Page 43 of Dark Tides
“Did you come up the common way?”
“Round the long way: out east to the forest, and then back along the riverbank.”
Ned opened the door and listened intently. He heard his dog settling down, turning round and round in his kennel and lying down, the call of hunting owls, and the noises of the forest at nighttime, familiar to him now after many nights alone. Beyond his door the voice of the river chattered softly in the darkness, there was no splash of an oar. Any white man following the two exiles around the margins of the town would have brushed against shrubs and low swinging branches, disturbed roosting birds, broken twigs, scattered stones on the path under heavy boots. Only an Indian could move in silencethrough the grasslands, brush, and swamp. Ned closed the door and the shutters so that there was no crack for any spy.
“We won’t stay,” William said.
“You can…”
“No, we’re going to live off the land for the summer. We’re tired of battening on old comrades.”
“It’s not battening,” Ned objected. “It’s what any of us would do for the other.”
“Aye, I know,” William agreed. “But this season we can live off our own, in the open, like free men, not like hibernating mice.”
“Where’ll you go?” Ned asked. “Stay near, and I can bring you some blankets and ale and the like. There’s a Norwottuck village just upriver, I know them—they’d shelter you.”
“I wouldn’t feel safe among them,” Edward ruled. “We’re going south to the coast, near where we were before. Can you take us back there for the summer? And bring us back here for the winter?”
“Aye,” Ned said. “I’ll have to get someone to mind the ferry.”
“Won’t people ask where you’ve gone?” William queried.
“Some of them’ll probably guess,” Ned said. “But if the ferry’s manned and I tell everyone I’m going hunting and gathering herbs for a few days, nobody’ll say anything. I’ll come with you for a day’s march, and I’ll hand you on to a native guide who can show you the rest of the way.”
Edward and William exchanged a glance. “I haven’t come this far to be beheaded by a savage and have my scalp sent to England for the reward,” Edward said sourly.
“Nay, you’ll be safe enough with a guide. They’ve got nothing against those of us that live modest and farm a few acres. It’s the others that have turned them sour: them that can’t be satisfied with a hundred acres, them that foul the rivers, them that run hogs through the cornfields. They who insult them, and get them into debt and then say the debt must be paid in land. But they won’t hurt two men traveling in peace.”
Neither man looked wholly reassured. “But will they know there’s a reward on our heads?” Edward asked.
“They know everything! But they’d think it dishonorable to betraya guest for money,” Ned assured him. “But you—in return—” He broke off, trying to find the words to explain. “When you meet them—you have to treat them like equals,” he said awkwardly. “Not like servants. They’re proud—proud as a cavalier lord in their own way—they have their own ideas as to how things should be, they have their own masters and ministers. They have their own God and their own prayers. And more than anything, they hate to be disrespected.”
William clapped him on the back. “You’re a good man, Ned! You’ve a kind word for everyone, even savages. We’ll leave in the morning, yes?”
Ned nodded. “As soon as I’ve got someone to man my ferry. You can sleep in my bed,” he offered. “It’ll be a while before you have a bed again. I’ll roll up before the fire.”
Before he slept Ned took a sheet of rough paper and with his homemade quill pen and a little jar of ink made from crushed soot and an addled egg yolk, scratched a note for his sister, Alinor, and pinned it with one of his new shingle nails to his rough table, for anyone to find in case he did not come home from his hunting trip.
IF YOU FIND THIS ANDI, NEDFERRYMAN, HAVE NOT RETURNED FROM THE FOREST PLEASE TO SEND IT TOMRS. ALINORREEKIE/ REEKIEWHARF/ SAVOURYDOCK/ SOUTHWARKVILLAGE/ LONDON.
SISTERALINOR
GOD BLESS YOU. IAM WRITING THIS IN CASE OF MISCHANCE BEFOREIGO INTO THE WOODS HUNTING WITH MY DOG. IF IT SHOULD GO AMISS FOR ME THEN SOMEONE WILL HAVE FOUND IT AND SENT IT TO YOU. THIS IS FAREWELL ANDGOD BLESS YOU, SISTER.
YOU SHOULD COLLECT MY GOODS. IHAVE SOME BEASTS THAT SHOULD BE SOLD AND THE VALUE SENT TO YOU. IWOULD THINK ABOUT £10. MY LAND AND CABIN WOULD BE WORTH ABOUT £40.YOU COULD ASK THE MINISTER ATHADLEYMR. JOHNRUSSELL TO FORWARD YOU THE VALUE. TELL HIM PELTS OR GOODS NOT WAMPUM.
OR YOU COULD KEEP THE HOUSE AND FERRY ANDJOHNNIE MIGHT DO WORSE THAN TO COME HERE HIMSELF IF HE’S NOT TOO GRAND TO KEEP A FERRY. IT’S NO HARDER THAN MAKING A LIVING ONFOULMIRE, AND SOMETIMES, WHEN THE MIST COMES OFF THE RIVER AND ALL THE BIRDS ARE FLYING LOW, ITHINK IT IS VERY LIKE OUR OLD HOME. SOMETIMES THE RIVER COMES OVER ITS BANKS INTO THE SWAMP AND THE ONLY WAY THROUGH IS THE LITTLE PATHS THAT THE SAVAGES KNOW—THATIAM LEARNING. ISEEFOULMIRE AGAIN EVERY DAWN HERE.
IDON’T REGRET COMING HERE THOUGHIWAS DRIVEN BY YOUR SHAME AND THE DEFEAT OF MY CAUSE. ISTILL THINK THAT HIS LORDSHIP WAS NOT FIT TO JUDGE YOU AND NO MAN IS FIT TO RULE ME. ILIKE THIS LAND WITHOUT KINGS OR RULERS BUT MEN WHO WALK QUIETLY IN HIDDEN WAYS.
GOD BLESS YOU, SISTER—AND IFIDON’T RETURN KNOW THAT YOU WERE ALWAYS LOVED BY YOUR BROTHER—
NEDFERRYMAN
JUNE 1670, LONDON
Johnnie walked around to Sarah’s workshop in the early morning, breakfasting on a warm roll that he bought from a passing baker’s boy, so that he could see his sister before work started.
