Riverbreeze: Part 3 (47 page)

“God, I hope so, but I wouldn’t count on it yet.” Robert said, attempting to stand. He wanted to see for himself. All he had to do was get over to the window, a monumental feat.

It was then that they heard the back door open. Panic, quick and sharp, filled all of them.

Why didn’t we lock the door?
Robert thought.

“Where did he come from?” Dolnick cried. His reaction was to maneuver himself closer to the open window frame so he could get a better look outside.

Robert was closest to the doorway into the hall. He automatically dropped to the floor, knocking the bench over. Grabbing his buttock in sheer agony, he collapsed behind the bench, gritting his teeth and trying not to moan out loud. Meanwhile Jamie and Nathan, each with a pistol, turned towards the doorway, frozen in time. They each had one shot and then it would be hand to hand, or knife to tomahawk, or pot or kettle or tankard or whatever they could grab to war club.

God save us
, Robert thought.

But there were no footsteps—well, Indian moccasins didn’t make any sound anyway—and no one charged into the hallway or the kitchen.

Seconds ticked by, a minute, two minutes, while everyone held their breaths.

“What the hell?” Dolnick exclaimed. “Your Indian…Owas whatever…He’s…”

“What? He’s what?” Robert demanded, pushing himself up.

Nathan rushed back to the window while Jamie dashed into the hallway, leaping over the bench on the way.

Nathan let out cry of shock. Jamie cried out as well.

“What is he doing?” Robert shouted, dragging himself into the hall.

He stopped short when he saw Jamie holding Owasewas’ shell necklace in his hand, his face pale and drawn. Slowly he looked outside—did he want to see this?
No
… In an instant, guilt and sorrow washed over Robert as he and Jamie exchanged a look of regret. “I should have kept my big mouth shut.” He whispered.

“He is truly our friend.” Jamie whispered back, no recrimination in his voice.

“Mawchick chammay
.” Robert breathed as the first tear rolled down his cheek.Somehow, Owasewas had managed to open the door, drag himself outside and prop himself up using Robert’s cane, which was always left in the corner closest to the back door. From that position he started to shout to his fellow people in his native language. From deep inside of him, his rich voice echoed over the land, calling out to the remaining warriors.

Robert had no idea what he was saying, but it was clear what he was doing, sacrificing himself. With an outstretched arm Owasewas started to chant something, a confession maybe or one of their holy songs or it could have been curses, for all Robert knew.

Slowly, tortuously, Owasewas tottered further away from the house, dragging one foot, then the other. Blood streaked his bare legs and bare back. His hair came loose from its knot and hung limply over his shoulder. He was a bent and broken figure, on the verge of collapse, but his voice continued to ring out, clear as a bell.

“Owasewas!” Robert yelled in anguish. “Come back. I’m sorry I said those things. Jamie, go get him.”

Jamie turned sharply and glared at him. “Are you mad? Do you realize you would be sending me to my death? You go.”

“I’m sorry, Jamie.” Robert whispered, realizing the truth, hating himself.

It happened quite fast then.

“Forgive me. Do not forget me.” Owasewas called back in English.

Streams of arrows came flying from both sides of the house and from behind the garden fence. They struck Owasewas’ body without mercy, penetrating deeply into back, arms, legs, neck, heart, lungs, guts. For several seconds, his body jerked and jerked and jerked. He appeared to be suspended in the air, his back arched, his shoulders and head thrown back, his mouth open wide in a silent scream.

Then it was over. He fell, face down, already dead.

Before he even hit the ground, Dolnick shot at the Indian in the garden, catching him in the arm. Jamie rushed back into the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Robert shouted.

“Out the side to catch that Indian.” Jamie yelled back. Robert heard his booted feet pounding on the wooden floor as he raced through the kitchen and out the side door. Without hesitation, Jamie shot the Indian on that side of the house in the back. The Indian screamed, and turned to fight, but Nathan had followed Jamie and with a scream of his own, shot the warrior in the chest. He went down, dead as a doornail.

As much as Robert wanted to stop time and mourn Owasewas, he feared there were more Indians outside, including Pannoowau, so he forced himself to move quickly to close the door. And he was correct to be afraid. From around the right side of the house, a warrior, tall and fierce—he knew it! It was Pannoowau—suddenly appeared and charged into the hall. With a war cry he flew at Robert, his hatchet whistling down with the intention of cleaving Robert’s skull in two. But instinctive self-preservation took over and Robert rolled away just in time. The hatchet buried itself in the wood floor mere inches from his ear.

Dolnick appeared in the doorway and using the bench to support the long musket barrel shot the Indian point blank, missing Robert by a hair’s breadth. The Indian jerked, grunted one last time and slumped over Robert, expelling his final, fetid breath too close to Robert’s face. Repulsed and frantic, he shoved at the heavy, limp body and rolled away.

“Thank you, Nick.” He gasped, laying his head down.
That was too close, too close
, he thought as he caught his breath and allowed his heartbeat to slow.

Dear God, he was weary, so very, very weary. He had no idea what had happened to the Indian in the garden and he hadn’t kept count so he didn’t know if more were coming. He should feel something about that: fear, apprehension, worry, anger, but in his weakened condition, he didn’t even know if he had any strength left to lift his head, and besides, Dolnick had finally shut the door and locked it.

“Are you all right, sir?” He asked Robert.

“No.” Robert replied, closing his eyes. He knew his wounds were still seeping blood. He knew he needed to be stitched up and put to bed with several cups of Abigail’s various decoctions. But at the moment he didn’t care about any of that.

His best friend was dead. Owasewas, dear, dear Owasewas. He had sacrificed himself even after Robert had accused him of betrayal. He was a true friend, like Jamie had said, loyal, honorable, proud, kindhearted, forgiving. In the end, Robert wished he could have seen his face; he wished he could have taken everything he said back. He wished he could have turned time around and relived the entire moment over again from when Owasewas had first been struck. But once again, he had allowed his temper to rule, to impulsively speak hurtful words, to be overly quick to judge. When would he ever learn? How could he ever live with himself now? How would he ever recover from this piercing guilt and his aching heart?

It was all so overwhelming, dead Indians in his house and all around his yard; he and Jamie both wounded and the colony in a state of war. He didn’t know if his neighbors had been attacked and killed. He didn’t know how expansive the attacks were or if they were still ongoing up and down the river. All he knew, right now and here, was that his heart was broken; his body was broken, and he would never see his friend’s face again, alive and smiling, his black eyes glinting with mischief.
Oh Owasewas, I will never forget you.

He wept.

Chapter Fifty-three: An Unexpected Discovery

Between four and five hundred colonists were slain that April 18th, once again taken by surprise and killed by so-called friends. Many more were taken hostage to be held for ransom, unlike the first massacre of 1622. The majority of the attacks took place on the south side of the James River where the Weyanock and Nansemond tribes were located and along the upper reaches of the York River where Opecancanough maintained his settlement with his Powhatan and Pamunkey tribesman. Fewer attacks took place on the north side of the James River because most of the Indian settlements had already been eliminated from this area.

Unfortunately for the Bassetts, their household was one of the targeted few. For weeks afterward while he healed, Robert wondered if Owasewas had indeed led Matchitehew and Pannoowau and their war party to his plantation, not intentionally, but by chance. Maybe it was a coincidence that Owasewas and the warriors had arrived at the same time, but Robert didn’t think so. He believed Match and Pan had been watching Owasewas and had followed him to Riverbreeze. He knew he had angered the savages that day of Elizabeth’s rescue and they were no doubt intent on revenge. Even towards Owasewas since Owasewas had ruined their deal with Wesley to supply them with guns. It made perfect sense for them to take advantage of this opportunity; watch Owasewas to see if he would warn his English friends and then when he tried to slip away, follow him and attack…and then kill the traitor to their people. Yes, it made perfect sense.

At least Match and Pan and their party were dead now and bodies burned. No honorable biers for these treacherous savages.

Shortly after the initial assault, Governor Berkeley sent messengers to every outlying household instructing them to quickly come together in palisaded camps strong enough to resist more attacks, but the Bassetts didn’t comply.

“You’re on your own, then.” The messenger said after Robert told him they were staying. “Governor Berkeley says there will be no aid for families that do not obey his edicts.”

“I understand.” Robert replied, closing the door on the man’s face.

He didn’t feel the need to dislodge his entire household and withdraw to Jamestown. Besides, where would they stay? Where would everyone be housed, and how would everyone be fed? Scores of people crowded together in James Fort for who knew how long? This is what happened after the first massacre and there was sickness and hunger and despair because no one remained on their farms to grow crops and tend their animals. Robert wouldn’t let that happen to his family. While he and Jamie kept guard, the women planted and watered the kitchen garden; the servants sowed fields of corn and wheat, and transplanted tobacco seedlings when they were three inches high. Jamie pastured the animals, moving them around to different areas where the foliage grew most abundantly.

Fortunately there weren’t any more Indian assaults. The Weyanocks and a faction of the Nansemonds fled their homeland altogether, retreating far south from the colony; and Opecanchanough and his subjects withdrew without attempting any follow-up attacks.

In late June, however, Robert couldn’t ignore the governor’s summons to every man in the colony to report to William Claiborne who was chosen General and Chief Commander of the militia. On June 1st, Governor Berkeley had convened the Assembly to raise funds, draft troops and make other arrangements for a planned military counterattack. Berkeley also planned to return to England to implore the king for military hardware: arms, cannons, ammunition and black powder. At this assembly he also appointed Secretary Richard Kemp as Deputy Governor in his place.

Robert knew this was inevitable. This latest assault cemented the colonists’ thinking that all savages were treacherous, untrustworthy and ultimately, their irreconcilable enemies. The only solution was to abandon all forms of peace and familiarity with the Indian nation, and root out those who had participated in the shedding of English blood.

It was Captain Matthew Neale, dressed in full military garb, who brought the news.

“Good morning, Matthew, come in and have a cup of cider.” Robert said, welcoming Neale at the front door even though it was obvious this was not a social call.

“Good morning, Rob. I appreciate your invitation, but I’m afraid I cannot stay. I’m here on official business. I need to speak to you and Jamie.”

“All right.” He said. With a sudden sour taste in his mouth, he called for his brother.

When Jamie arrived and after greetings took place, Neale began,

“Gentlemen, by Governor Berkeley’s orders, you are to report to Commander Claiborne in Jamestown, tomorrow, the 19th of June. Each of you are required to bring one full pound of good powder and four pounds of bullets or shot of lead or pewter, one good fixed gun and some defensive coat or armor and head piece with a sword or cutlass. James Bassett, you are also ordered to bring two of your horses. And Governor Berkeley requires your women to also report to Jamestown to assist in the sewing of padded coats for the troops.”