Of the Company
By Auryn Rei Evroren
Part 4
We dug for days. Again, 'we' as a general term. I spent most of my time helping to build the fort. During that time, I discovered the most amazing thing. How I never saw it before, working in the forge, I'll never know. What I discovered, the other settlers told me, was rhythm. It was in the thunder, during the storm at sea, and again in the hammering of nails and pegs as we constructed our fort. Every beat was like power to me, a power that brought together the gracefulness of music and dance to meet the force of sheer brute strength. It was perfect for me. It gave me something to do while I wasn't speaking much to Thomas.
By then, I had many more friends than Thomas alone. I was the quiet shadow who followed Ben and Lon, and they mentored me in the ways of people in general. Ben and I shared witty comments, and Lon told me more urban legends than I ever wanted to know. Besides them there was Edward, my bailing companion from the ship. It turned out that he was a master whittler, and could make nearly anything out of a stick of wood, with only his belt-knife. He taught me a few tricks, and even made an elegant little wooden raccoon, "to remember the New World by", should I ever go home. I knew it was to remember him, and he knew that I knew it, but it remained a secret between us two. Edward was the only one who heard anything about my resentment for Thomas, and he sympathized like no one I've ever met.
With those three- Ben, Lon, and Edward –I had all that I needed.
The days passed slowly, but at least they were filled with interest. For about a week, we met no Indians, but we finished the fort. By this I was saddened- there was no rhythm in digging. Even more unfortunately, digging was a tedious, boring task, which meant there was plenty of time for Thomas and I to talk to each other.
"You've been so distant with me lately," Thomas observed after nearly an entire day of silence from me. "You talk with the other men- I've heard you making jokes with them, all the time! But you won't talk to me." I sighed, pausing from my digging to rest on the handle of my shovel. "You hardly talk to me either," I told my best friend, a hint of a reprimand in my voice. "I haven't been able to get two words out of you for the past two weeks without hearing about that blasted John Smith." I inhaled sharply- I hadn't meant to say that part. I looked away as Thomas' eyes widened in shock. "W-what do you mean, Andrew?" he asked me.
"I meant what I said." My voice suddenly went cold, and even slightly angry. "Thomas, we agreed we were coming here to get rich, and to have an adventure, together. But ever since we set foot on the Constant, you've been trailing after John Smith like he's some sort of hero. Are you even a friend to me anymore, Thomas?"
My little speech had left him with nothing to say. Thomas did not meet my eyes, choosing instead to gaze down into his partially-dug hole. That gave me all the answer I needed. I glanced over my shoulder, looking around. "Henry!" I called, catching my friend's attention. "Take over, will you?" He nodded, a question in his eyes, until I shook my head. No answers now, unless Thomas was the one to give them. I handed Henry my shovel, and strode off toward the tent that Thomas and I shared. As I walked, I took deep breaths, trying not to let my heart become overburdened with anger. I had never been an angry person- folk used to compliment me on my levelheadedness –and I wasn't planning to become one then.
"Are you going to just walk away from him?" I heard an incredulous, heavily-accented voice ask me. I turned around in surprise to see Ben, a dark shape looming from the sinking, reddening sun. I swallowed, and nodded. "I can't talk to him right now." Ben sighed and shook his head. "Then you're being an idiot, running away," he said. "Face him like a man, Andrew!" I stepped away from Ben, and I'm sure an absolutely aghast look crossed my face. "You're a bloody coward, Andrew!" Ben called after me as I ran away from him.
I went outside the walls of the fort to calm down. First Thomas, tempting me to be angry with him, and then Ben, encouraging me to do so? I thought the whole world was against me for a moment there. I needed a place to pour all of my negative energy before it swallowed me whole. Searching desperately, I drew my knife and found a large stick, then sat with my back against the fort wall and began whittling, hoping that the frictional carving of the blade against the wood would satisfy me. However, I was disappointed to find that my frustration only made the work more difficult. When I couldn't stand it a moment longer, I took the stick I'd been working on and threw it with all of my strength at the nearest tree.
The sound it made when it hit reminded me of my interest in rhythm. It satisfied me like nothing ever had before. I decided that I needed a continuous rhythm, something I could do over and over again without stopping.
Through the woods drifted the sound of heavy drumming…the Indians were drumming. It sounded almost happy, as if something wonderful had happened. I listened to it for a moment, almost begging the sound to suffice, and for the moment, it did. The anger built up in my heart slowly began to dissipate, and the tightness in my shoulders loosened. The sound went on and on, cutting through the air, cutting through the fog of hurt surrounding me, calming me more than anything ever had.
I headed back into the fort, sheathing the knife that lay forgotten in my hand, absentmindedly tapping on its hilt. Immediately, knowing what I wanted to do, I sought out my friend Lon, and asked him what I could do to be one of the company's drummers.