Becoming Americans (6 page)

      "Isn't this a pretty dress? I have a new one for church tomorrow."

      "What's wrong with her?" Edward asked his companion. "What would you do with a duster? Or a fan?"

      "I can make a turkey-wing broom. They're the best thing for sweeping off the hearth!" She was grinning up at Richard.

      "That sounds good," Richard said. "I think I'd like a little broom." His chest was swelling like a turkey cock's.

      "What in God's name do you want with a broom?" Edward asked.

      "I'll not be refusing the graciousness of our hosts' offers," Richard said.

      Edward was confused and looked from the silly little girl to his friend. Rum does different things to different people, he thought.

      But, rum did the same to both of them that day and, soon after eating— before they'd even smoked a pipe—both boys were asleep.

      Richard was the first awake, before the sun was up. There was no movement outside; the chickens were still quiet. He lay motionless in the bed, listening to Edward's breathing and an occasional snore from Old Ned, across the room.

      He hadn't known, back home, that life could be so good. The openness, the aromatic trees, the air, the food. The excitement and adventure of everything new. The freedom. The possibilities!

      There were times he missed his friends in Bristol. There were times he missed his Uncle Edward and his cousins, even. But he could make a life here that would be impossible for him in Bristol. Even a servant, here, could become rich. Old Ned had told them how Mister Ware had made his fortune on his own after coming to Virginia as an indentured servant over twenty years ago. Now, he was a wealthy and respected man whose sons were in school at Oxford. His daughter's wedding had cost two thousand pounds of tobacco! That very idea was staggering to Richard.

      The little girl—Anne Biggs was her name, he'd been told—was the child of Mister Ware's daughter. Her mother had died at Anne's birth, and the child traveled back and forth from her father's plantation in Lower Norfolk County—the southeastern part of Virginia, Richard had learned—to her grandfather's plantation, here on the Piankatank. Richard felt sorry for her when he heard of that. He'd never known his mother, either. He knew well what it was like to be passed around.

      The girl liked him. He knew that and he wondered, why? She seemed to like him more than she did Edward. True, he was taller than Edward was, and he filled out his shirt more than Edward did, but he was just big for his age. His friend was catching up fast, and Edward would have a big head start on him in property and position. But, for now, Richard at least was taller, and he figured, probably he was better-looking, too.

      Anne was a pretty little girl. She
was
just a little girl, but she wouldn't always be. He'd be smart to let her keep on liking him. You never know, he thought, one day….

      Richard slowly got out of bed so as not to awaken Edward. He picked up his shoes and sneaked out of the house. He ran to the edge of the woods and relieved himself, then walked to the river and jumped in. He still had blood underneath his fingernails from the deer he'd killed the week before, and he knew his body smelled. It never used to occur to him that he smelled bad, but in the last year, as changes had taken place all over him, that had changed too. He stripped off his stockings and breeches and his shirt and stepped into the river. It was much colder than he'd expected. He wondered if it weren't dangerous to get his whole body wet, but it was a chance he'd have to take. He couldn't wear the new suit with blood under his nails and his body stinking like a wet dog. He held his breath and grabbed his nose before ducking under the water completely. Then he shook his head and rubbed his hair in the water in case there was blood in it. He scrubbed his body with his hands and when he saw that they were clean, he climbed back up on the bank.

      He stood there shuddering, trying to dry himself with his shirt, but finally gave up and stepped back into his stockings and breeches to run back to the house.

      As Edward and the men stirred in their final minutes of sleep, Richard fed the fire and sat. He was glad Harper had warned them about going to church. Richard brought the new suit of clothes his Uncle Edward bought for him.

      He warmed himself and ran his fingers through his hair, hoping it would dry before they all woke up with questions. The dark hair fell in damp ringlets to his shoulders. He had in his possession a blond curl, clipped from his head when he was a child. He'd asked about that once, wondering how it could be so, since he could only remember having dark hair. It was in his family, he was told. They all started out as blond, tow-headed children whose hair darkened as they aged.

      It was another of God's mysteries how the body changed. There was dark hair appearing now above his lip and on his chin. He had hair beneath his arms and it was growing around his privates. Anne wouldn't always be a little girl, just like he wasn't a little boy anymore. He wondered if she liked his blue eyes. He wondered what color her eyes were.

      Edward had sat up in the bed and was staring at him.

      "What's wrong with you?" Edward asked him.

      "I got cold, so I put some wood on the coals to get the fire going," Richard said.

      "You look different," Edward said.

      "That's a strange thing to say," Richard said, pretending to be offended.

      "What have you been doing?" Edward was sure something was up.

      "I took a piss and got some wood! That troubles you?" Richard took the offensive. Did getting clean make him look so different?

      Edward lay back down.

      "I think I'm sick," he said.

      "Forget that. We've got to go to church. But, more important, it's Halloween!"

      "Halloween!" Edward echoed him, and sat up in bed. "What are we going to do?"

      "I don't know," Richard said, "but it should be big. Who knows when we'll be back? We return to Pine Haven tomorrow."

      "Something big." Edward started thinking.

      Richard opened the small chest, which held the change of clothes Harper had told them to bring.

      "Go throw some water on your face, we've got to dress for church," he said to Edward.

      Edward groaned, but got out of bed and followed the suggestion. Old Ned and the two other men were awake.

      "You boys missed a fine Saturday night, I tell you," Old Ned said.

      "We'll not miss this night, I warrant," Richard said. He felt foolish for drinking so much rum in the hot afternoon that he'd missed a good night's revelry.

      "Aye, it's All Hallows Eve. We'll catch the Devil by his tail tonight, we will!"

      Old Ned was then up and about. He hurried the men down to the river in order to ready Mister Ware's shallop for the short sail to church.

      Richard was glad to be alone in the cabin. He lifted the lid of the chest and pulled out the suit that he'd placed on top of Edward's.

      The blue wool was soft and luxurious.

      He held the doublet in front of him. It was so short it looked like a child's. It wouldn't reach his navel. It was the latest fashion. A row of small, round buttons ran from the tiny skirt that ringed the bottom of the doublet, to the high, close neck. There were small ribbon-loops inside the shoulder holes for attaching sleeves, but Richard hadn't wanted sleeves. He held up the shirt. That was why he hadn't wanted sleeves.

      The shirt was of the finest, whitest linen Uncle Edward could find. Wide, lace cuffs matched the edging of the square linen collar that would fall to his shoulders and across the top buttons of his doublet. He'd leave the lower five unbuttoned to let the shirt billow out between the doublet and breeches. He lay the falling band collar on top of the doublet. That would go on last.

      He hurried now. He wanted to be dressed before the others returned. He slipped the new shirt on top of the long, colorless under-shirt he wore. He pulled the breeches from the chest and held them out for a quick look before stepping into them. All around the waist were ribbon loops that hung like a coarse, silken fringe. The breeches were gathered into dozens of pleats at the waistband and flared out at the knees like a full skirt. The cream-colored lining fell to the knees an inch below the hem, like a petticoat. Clumps of ribbons fell by the side of the knees.

      He pulled his embroidered stocking to the knees and rolled them over his garters of matching ribbons. He put on his leather shoes with the high heels and the shoe roses on top that were made of more blue-ribbon loops.

      Richard was tying the falling band around his neck when Edward came back into the cabin. Edward stood in the doorway, his mouth agape.

      "You didn't tell me," was all that Edward could say.

      "Tell you what?" Richard tried to sound surprised by his friend's reaction.

      "You didn't tell me," Edward said.

      "Will they let you?" he finally asked. Then he became excited by his friend's daring to dress in clothes so far above his station.

      "The old folks—and the minister! —They're going to have fits when they see you! You look like a duke! I wager Mister Ware's sons don't have a suit between them that will match it!" He walked up to Richard and touched the fine wool.

      "Where did you get it?" he finally asked.

      "Uncle Edward bought it for me before we left, telling me to be sure everyone knew he was sufficiently successful to afford it. He wants more planters to use him as their agent in England."

      "Father will…" Edward began.

      "I hope your father won't be too upset with me because, to tell the truth, I've nothing else to wear but the other dirty set of work clothes he gave me." Richard didn't want to anger Harper, but he was proud of the suit and he wanted to wear it.

      One of the men who lived in the cabin stepped inside and saw the boys.

      "I thought
you
were the young master!" he said to Edward.

      "I
am
the young master!" Edward said defensively.

      "Of course, he is," Richard said, grinning.

      Edward rode to the church aboard the shallop with his father and the Ware family. Richard rode in a long canoe that carried four other servants as well as the two men rowing. A procession of other canoes followed, bringing all of the plantation's workers who were not sick.

      The day would bring people from miles around for two days of preaching and playing. With All Saints' Day falling on a Monday this year, most planters in the area were taking advantage of the two holy days for an extra harvest celebration. It had been a good year and, with the relaxation of immigration laws, new labor was flowing into the country at an unprecedented rate. With the help of God, next year would be even better.

      Nearly two dozen canoes and shallops were floating by the riverbank or tied to the small pier in front of the church. The frame building was new, but temporary. It had been hastily built when times were not so good as now. The Lancaster parish was even looking for a second minister, Old Ned told Richard— Mister Ware was a member of the vestry—and they should be getting one, soon. Reverend Cole shared his ministry with the Chapel of Ease in the northern part of the county. There were only ten ministers for the fifty parishes in the colony, but Lancaster parish had no trouble in keeping a pastor in the pulpit. Word had reached England about the "sweet-scented parishes." Every minister was paid the same—four thousand pounds of tobacco in cask—but if you were the minister of a parish that grew the expensive, sweet-scented tobacco…. Soon they would build a fine brick church.

      Not everyone was happy about this clerical prosperity.

      "If it won't for the sweet-scented," Old Ned told him, "the people here would be allowed to sin in peace, like most everybody else in Virginia."

      Not only were there just ten ministers for the fifty parishes, their bishop, the Bishop of London, allowed them to use the old Book of Common Prayer instead of the new, official one issued under the Commonwealth. That was another surprise to Richard, because people were severely punished for using the Old Book in England. The Lord Protector's puritanical Church let the Virginians keep their Prayer Book, and was generally tolerant of their Anglican and Royalist leanings. In return, the colonists got little support from the Church of England— they lacked ministers and they had no local bishop to guide and nurture their spiritual welfare.

      "Thank God for small favors," Old Ned added. "The last thing we need is a bishop and a herd of priests. It's the men of God arguing with each other what's made England a land of orphans these fifteen years!"

      Richard knew that well enough.

      The wind was blowing cold today and he kept his full cloak wrapped around himself for warmth. He stepped onto the riverbank and wandered off from Old Ned and his friends. He saw Edward and Harper standing on the deck of Mister Ware's boat, being introduced to Ware's neighbors. He turned away so that he wouldn't be seen and have to confront Harper in his new clothes. Richard was uncomfortable about looking finer than his master's family. It would embarrass Harper if people knew.

      Richard walked to the other side of the church. Small groups had gathered, sheltered from the wind and warmed by bright sunlight. The sight was stunning to him. Silks and satins and jewelry glittered. Cloaks were discarded altogether, or rakishly thrown over one shoulder—"Like a ruffian," Uncle Edward used to say. Everyone was on display. It was much more colorful and gay than the church crowds Richard was used to in Bristol. Freed from the heavy oversight of severe church officials, Virginia congregations used the opportunity of gathering together to act their finest, most elegant and mannered. Many of the planters came from prosperous families in England. Most of them still viewed life in the colonies as a temporary thing, intending to remain here long enough to secure their fortunes, then to return home in style. Sundays were an occasion to remind themselves, and others, of their origin, of their place in society, their social standing.