A Newfound Land (30 page)

Chapter 37

Jacob had never ridden so far before, and by the time they made their way into Providence, three days after setting out, all he could think of was the sore, chafing skin along the crease of his buttocks and down the insides of his thighs. For three days he’d listened to Mr Leslie and Da while they discussed the latest incidents of burning and pillaging, and he could hear in Da’s voice that he wasn’t happy about leaving his own home unprotected to go and protect elsewhere.

“It’s them that provoke the Indians that should handle it themselves,” Da said at one point. “I’ve had no problems with them; none at all.”

Thomas Leslie agreed, saying that the colonists were in flagrant breach of the treaty lines, and he could understand that the Nanticote and Powhatan settlements were irritated by this encroachment.

“In Virginia in particular,” Mr Leslie said, “it’s not that long ago since Berkeley fought them to submission and signed treaties with them that are now being trampled underfoot.”

“Long enough.” Da smiled. “About the time you and I were fighting for the Commonwealth.”

Jacob listened avidly. Rarely did Da talk about the four years he had served in the Horse, and then mainly to bewail the futility of war or to tell them harshly that war was not about glory and honour; it was about blood and pain and being hungry and cold and wishing desperately to be back home with your mam. Needless to say, none of his sons believed him, and in secret they played out long battle sequences between Roundheads and Royalists, with Ruth and Sarah being roped in to add to the numbers.

“When we were both young men.” Mr Leslie twitched at the ancient buff leather jacket that strained over his middle despite the extra panels in it.

“Did you both serve in the Horse?” Jacob asked.

“Aye, but not in the same regiment.” Da twisted in his saddle towards Mr Leslie. “Did you ever meet him? The Protector?”

“Not as such, no. I saw him at the battle of Naseby, and once I saw him in London. And you?”

Da hitched his shoulders. “Nay, but then why would a man such as Oliver Cromwell notice an eager farmer’s lad with his head and heart full of convictions but nothing much else?”

Mr Leslie smiled. “It was people like that who changed it all – at least for a while. It was all those that burnt with these new ideas of self-governance and equality that achieved a time when England was not ruled by a king but by free men.”

“A very short period, all in all,” Da said.

“A precedent.” Thomas Leslie nodded. “And one day that precedent will be followed by others.”

*

“Do you think he’s right, Da?” Jacob asked later. It was a relief to be walking, not riding, and he hurried as best as he could to keep up with Da through the narrow streets of Providence.

“Who?” Da shortened his stride.

“Mr Leslie. Is he right when he says you all set a...a precedent with the Commonwealth?”

“Shh!” Da looked about before returning his attention to Jacob. “These are things you don’t discuss openly and never with people you don’t know and trust.”

“Sorry,” Jacob mumbled, allowing his thick hair to come down like a curtain before his face.

“Aye,” Da said some moments later, “I think he is. And it will all start here.”

“Here?” Jacob surveyed the small, nondescript town around him.

Da smiled and straightened up to his full height. “Aye, here. I won’t see it, you won’t see it, but mayhap your children, or at least your grandchildren. This is the cradle, and it’s already being set in motion.” He laughed and ruffled Jacob’s hair. “That’s what happens. Most people you see here have come on account of convictions, lad. They have come determined to build a new life for themselves, free of persecution and ancient constraints... There is no turning back the flood, and this particular tide will build until it one day washes away all vestiges of the old.” He peeked down at Jacob. “You didn’t follow, did you?”

Jacob shook his head ruefully. “No, I don’t understand. Not yet.”

One look at Betty Hancock and Jacob understood why Mark so often would choose to spend time with Naomi instead of with him. The lass standing in front of him reminded him of a squirrel: bright brown eyes, bright brown hair that was so curly it stood like a fuzz around her head despite the tight braids, freckled skin that hued in browns and dusky pinks, and a wide, welcoming smile that broadened as she appraised him. Betty dropped Da a polite curtsey and went back to staring at Jacob.

“Come,” Betty said. “If you come with me to the kitchen, Mother will give you something to eat.” She sniffed. “She’s making pie. Do you like pie?”

Jacob assured her that he did and followed her out of the front room.

*

“I hear you have yet a son,” William Hancock said to Matthew, motioning for him to sit. Matthew nodded and accepted the proffered mug of beer. “You’re fortunate in your wife.” There was a slight tinge of envy in Hancock’s tone. “What is it? Six sons?”

“And one grandson.”

“Ah, yes...” Hancock smiled into his beer. “I have three grandsons.” He looked towards the kitchen from where came the sound of girlish voices raised in a heated discussion. “Women,” he sighed. “I live surrounded by women. Like an isle in a sea of sirens.”

“And rarely do you complain about it,” Mrs Hancock said from the door, a loaded tray in her hands.

“I wouldn’t dare to,” William said, smiling at his wife. Pregnant, Matthew noted, and no doubt praying that this time it would be a lad, a son that lived beyond his first year, unlike all those wee laddies William had told him about last time they met.

“Esther is most devout,” William remarked once they were alone again. “She rises well before dawn to read her daily lessons and meditate upon the Holy Writ.”

“Ah,” Matthew said with mild approval, wondering if this specific characteristic would endear Esther to Alex or not.

“And she’s strict with the children when it comes to God and the Bible, but I’m assuming that is as you want it.”

“Aye.” Matthew studied the small room, noting it was clean and uncluttered. The food set before him was tasty, and Mrs Hancock looked neat, her grey skirts and bodice offset by a starched white collar, her hair decorously covered by a cap. Yes, this would be a good home for his son, and if it also led to him developing a fondness for the wee lass that was not so bad, was it?

“Do you think you’ll settle in with them?” Matthew asked Jacob once they were back on the street. Jacob nodded, telling him that Mrs Hancock reminded him in some aspects of Mama; and Betty: she was like he imagined Rachel would have been had she still been alive.

Matthew laughed. The lad was right: wee Betty had that air of bubbling energy that had accompanied Rachel from the moment she was delivered into his arms to the day she flew to his defence and met her death.

“Do you miss her?” Jacob asked.

“Aye I do, very much.” The child of his heart, the lass whom he had loved so intensely from the first time he saw her.

“Would you...” Jacob broke off, eyes stuck on the cobbles.

“I would,” Matthew said, “of course I would. Every one of you, I would miss as much had you been taken from me.”

It seemed to Jacob that every soul in town knew his father, their progress halted repeatedly as Da stopped to greet yet another acquaintance. Minister Walker hailed them on the dusty street, beamed down at Jacob, and launched himself into a long discussion with Da, leaving Jacob to stand bored by their side.

He scuffed at the ground, studying the people that moved around them. Most of them were adults, men in hats and coats, with a sprinkling of women and children. He smiled politely at the pretty lady coming their way and was surprised when she stopped and smiled back. Another person who knew his da and, from the way Da shone up, someone he liked, initiating a long conversation that had Jacob stamping his feet.

She was very pretty, the lady, a wafting fragrance of lilies of the valley clinging to her deep blue skirts. He took in her bodice, thinking that there was quite a lot of white skin visible, and studied what little he could see of her light hair under her hat. She put a hand on Da’s arm and Jacob didn’t like that at all, just as he didn’t like it that Da laughed a bit too loudly at something she said.

“Who was that?” he asked, once the lady had bid them both farewell.

“Mmm?” Da smiled in the direction of the lady’s back. “Oh. A friend,” he said, leading the way towards the little inn.

“Da?” Jacob tugged at his sleeve. “Will you take me there?” He pointed towards the harbour where two ships lay at anchor. Even from here, he could make out the smell that emanated from one of them, and when he looked up he saw that Da’s brows had pulled together into a dark line.

“Not today, lad, perhaps some other day, when yon accursed ship is gone.”

Jacob pouted. He wanted to see the ships up close, not the harbour as such, but he tagged after his father as he went on his way. He was on the verge of asking Da about why the ship was accursed, but a quick peek at Da’s face made him think better of it.

Jacob had never been to a service before. He sat at attention for the first half-hour, his eyes flying from congregation to minister and back to congregation, barely listening to the service as such. The next half-hour he amused himself by swinging his legs back and forth and counting the number of times the minister stopped to repeat what he had just said. After one and a half hour, he was so bored he began to fidget, only to have Da’s hand come down like a clamp on his leg. After that he sat very still, eyes straight ahead and ears shut. Poor Daniel; this was what he was going to do when he grew up – talk people to sleep on a Sunday.

After the service Da told Jacob to wait for him under the plane trees and settled down to a long debate with several of the men. There was an obvious agitation in the way they held themselves, and repeatedly they nodded in agreement with each other, listening attentively when Thomas Leslie or Da held forth. It made Jacob proud to see his da like this, surrounded by men who seemed to defer to his judgement, most of them forced to crane their heads back due to Da being that much taller than them. But it was boring to sit and wait, and it was hot despite being in the shade, so without really knowing how, Jacob wandered off in the direction of the glittering water.

He hesitated when he got closer to the port area, surprised to see so many women and men about on this day of rest. And the women! He gawked at them in admiration; he had never seen something as pretty as these painted girls before.

Finally, he reached the wharves, and up close the ships were huge, creaking in the wind. Just opposite to where he was standing were what looked like huge holding pens. For an instant, he supposed it might be for cattle and pigs and such, but then he saw people moving behind the fence and gaped. So many, and so black! The stench that wafted across the water from the enclosure made him back away, falling flat on his back when his foot caught on a pile of coiled ropes.

“What have we here?”

Jacob looked up to find himself surrounded by four men, their heads backlit by the sun. They reeked of beer and grime, three of them swaying unsteadily on their feet, while the shortest was leaning over Jacob, his hair standing like a messy haystack around his ratty face, made even more disconcerting by his drooping eyelid.

“Sirs.” Jacob scrambled to his feet. He didn’t like the look of them, of how they eyed him as if he were a juicy bone of meat and they starving dogs.

“They pay well for boys as comely as that,” the short man said to the others.

Jacob could barely breathe. How pay? He clenched his fist around his little knife.

“Too old. They like them younger than that,” one of the other men said.

“We could always cut him – that’d keep him downy cheeked for ever,” the fattest of the men suggested.

Cut him? You cut horses and pigs and even bull calves, but Jacob had never heard about cutting lads.

“Cut?” the man with the drooping eyelid snorted. “You know they don’t hold with that, infidel though they may be.”

“Still…” the fat man said.

“He’ll sell for a high price anyway,” the fourth man voiced. “They like ’em fair, don’t they?”

Jacob looked from one to the other, trying to see if they were jesting, but their expressions indicated they weren’t. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another man, a huge man in a curling hairpiece and a magnificent coat who was standing close enough that Jacob could see the scar that bisected the closest eyebrow.

One of the men, the fat one, made a grab for him, and Jacob backed away, slamming into the wooden wall behind him. The big, well-dressed man fiddled with his wig, clasped his hands behind his back and stared out at sea, but not before Jacob saw small eyes darting in his direction, eyes that were averted while a small smile played on his heavy face.

“Sir,” Jacob croaked, but his voice didn’t carry all that far – at least the large man seemed not to have heard. The short man laughed, fingering his drooping eyelid.

“Come here then, laddie,” he crooned. “Come here and we won’t hurt you.”

“We might,” his fat companion said, “but it’s quick.” He made a slashing motion with his hand and moved to block Jacob when he tried to sidle off. His comrades laughed.

“Come, come, little piggy,” the one with the drooping eyelid said. “You’ll squeal for sure if you don’t come along nicely.”

They had him trapped. The four men approached him from all sides, and Jacob had nowhere to go. His knees wobbled, wet warmth trickled down his legs, and Jacob was ashamed for being so unmanly, and at the same time incensed that these horrible men should talk about him as if he were an animal. He took a big breath, pulled his knife and ran, lowering his head like a small ram. He butted one man full in the stomach, stabbed another in the thigh hard enough to make him yelp, and there was the gap that Jacob needed, flying like a hare towards the edge of the wharf. Behind him, he could hear them cursing when they came after him. The water was dank and dark, making Jacob hesitate.

“Nowhere to run, laddie,” the short man said.

Jacob took a deep breath and dove in. He swam a long way under water before coming up for air. On land, the four men were already moving away, and Jacob made his way back slowly, looking for somewhere to clamber up.