Disclaimer: Disney for the main characters ...

Thanks to all reviewers. PocahontasJohnSmithForever and Sunrise19, I am going to include the cornfield scene, of course, but I'm going to tantalise you some more first. This scene is mostly about Thomas's problems and Ratcliffe's style of leadership.

CHAPTER 12

Back at Jamestown, work on the defences went on, but more slowly than the day before. Everyone was weary, stiff and badly rested. There were one or two more cases of sickness. Everyone, also, was on edge as to the outcome of the embassy to the Indians, and yet relieved that it was taking place – without them. They felt that the real burden of the day's work was on other shoulders, and, in consequence, did not over-exert themselves. Governor Ratcliffe was shrewd enough not to force the pace, although he did make sure that work did not come to a stop.

The men in the embassy returned to camp, feeling uncomfortably as if they had avoided an ordeal only to save it up for later. For Thomas, however, it was the other way round. He had found it easy to set off on the trail in the bright morning light, after a night that had been quiet in spite of all their fears. The glow of importance he had felt at being chosen for the embassy, and at the prospect of being close to John Smith all day, had almost taken away the shame of his blunder in the battle of the day before. To have to turn back so soon, empty-handed, was to emerge from a glorious dream to an uncomfortable reality. He was thoroughly frightened of Governor Ratcliffe, of going anywhere near him or coming to his attention without the captain's protection. He knew that the governor would forget nothing to the disadvantage of those who displeased him. He knew there was something unpleasant in store; not what, or why, but certainly something. The fact that he was far from being the only man in camp in this position was no comfort.

The eight men lined up in front of Governor Ratcliffe while Sir Richard gave his report. The governor asked questions of several of them but did not speak to Thomas, although Thomas felt his eyes. Ratcliffe then had the whole camp called to order and, standing on the platform with Sir Richard Clovelly beside him, gave all the men a bald statement of what had happened.

'The village was deserted, you say, but was it empty?' he then asked. 'Had the Indians taken all their belongings?'

'No,' said Sir Richard. 'They'd left everything. There was a great deal of food, tools, firewood...'

'Food,' said Ratcliffe. 'Now listen to me. We cannot leave Captain Smith alone there; he is in far too much danger. I want thirty men to march to the village straight away and bring him back, if he is still alone there. And also to bring away as much food as they can carry. If the village is still deserted, it is just the opportunity we need to victual ourselves.'

'But, Sir John, forgive me,' said Richard Clovelly, 'Captain Smith gave express orders that no one was to leave camp until he got back.'

'Captain Smith's courage does him credit,' returned Ratcliffe, 'but in this case he has not had enough regard for his own safety. I have to answer for him, and for all of us. I must override his orders. Rest assured that I do not do so lightly. Now…'

'Sir John,' said Richard urgently, 'Captain Smith knew that you would fear for him, but he thought that to avoid war with the Indians was the most important thing of all, and he told me quite plainly ...'

'Thank you, Sir Richard,' said Ratcliffe, 'but my judgment is that we need not fear war with the Indians. They fled from us yesterday and have avoided us today, so clearly they cannot be strong enough to give us battle. It would be madness to waste this opportunity. With plenty of food and a few days to finish the defences, we will be impregnable. They will not be able to defeat us whatever they do, and they will be forced to accept our terms.'

There was a murmur of hopeful agreement from the listeners. Richard Clovelly shook his head unhappily, but even he seemed partly swayed by Ratcliffe's boldness. Thomas was swayed by it; although he felt sure that there must be a flaw in the argument somewhere, he could not at once point it out.

'Who will go?' mused Ratcliffe. 'Not you, Sir Richard ...'

'I'll gladly go, sir,' put in Richard.

'It is good of you, but I don't wish you to go into danger again so soon. Nor you, Thomas Rowe ...' (He thinks I'm no good, thought Thomas bitterly. Captain Smith picked me, but the governor won't.) 'Gates. Do you think you can guide a party back to the village?'

'Yes, sir. I know the way.'

Nick Gates sounded almost eager. It was noticeable, as Ratcliffe picked six out of the first ten men – all but Lon, Sir Richard, and Thomas – to return in their tracks, and told off twenty more to go with them, how much more willing they all seemed than they had done first thing in the morning. This was a raid, a plundering raid. They were far more at home with that than with the prospect of meeting the enemy face to face and asking for peace. A fierce good humour began to emanate from the group, and to spread to all the settlers.

'March all together,' Ratcliffe ordered the party. 'Send scouts ahead when you get near the village, and find out whether the Indians are there. If they are, then go no further; come straight back. It may be that Captain Smith will be able to treat with them peacefully, and if so, we should do as he said and wait until tomorrow evening before we attack. Above all, don't get surrounded; retreat if they come after you, and fire your muskets in the air. That should be enough to drive them back. Shoot to kill only in the last resort. But if the Indians are not there, and Captain Smith is – then leave guards posted around the village and carry away all the food you can. Tell Captain Smith those are my orders, and you will have to answer to me if they are not carried out.'

'And what if they let us take the food, and then ambush us while we're coming back loaded?' asked Sir Richard Clovelly drily.

'You are not going, Sir Richard,' said Ratcliffe. 'But, men, you can surely guess the answer. Drop everything, shoot, and run. But I don't think that will happen.'

Everyone watched while the raiding party ate and drank, took weapons, bundles of sacks and carrying poles, and set off with shouts and salutes. When they had gone, the camp felt a great deal emptier; Thomas had a sense of foreboding about the expedition, and felt more afraid than ever of falling foul of Ratcliffe. Trying his best to give no cause for complaint, he reported to the master carpenter and was given the job of digging latrines.

He went to fetch a shovel from a pile of tools and lumber in a corner of the camp. Beside it, and partly shut in by it, was a hen-run where the few remaining chickens had been put to forage. The coops were piled at one end, covered with sacking. As Thomas passed he was surprised to see someone come out from under it, as if from behind a curtain. It was one of the other young boys, Harry Dean, the one who had nearly lost his master's money at cards on the voyage. When he saw Thomas he started, and quickly moved away from the coops.

'They didn't send you back, then?' he called challengingly to Thomas.

Harry made slighting remarks to Thomas whenever he could. Thomas at once recognised this for one and his temper flared up. 'They didn't send you the first time,' he retorted.

'Yes, well, I'm not Captain Smith's darling, am I?'

'Bet you wish you were,' answered Thomas quickly, but not before he had blushed and even stammered for a moment. He was furious, and disconcerted. A man like Captain Smith wouldn't have favourites. And he, Thomas, wouldn't be the man to curry favour. Or would he?

'Bet you wish you were,' mimicked Harry. 'You think everyone wants to be like you? Little pet!'

'I'd rather that than be like you,' said Thomas, enraged. 'I wouldn't trust you any further than I could spit, and I'm surprised your master does.'

'Who do you think you're talking to?' demanded Harry, stepping up to Thomas with his fists clenched. But he stopped short as they both heard a sound from his coat pocket: a slight but distinctive scraping sound. Harry quickly and gently put a hand to his pocket, which was bulging.

'What have you got in there?' asked Thomas.

'Mind your own business,' replied Harry and pushed him away with the flat of his hand. Thomas recovered his balance and confronted him again.

'You've pinched some eggs, haven't you?'

'What if I have?' hissed Harry. 'You wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not if you knew what was good for you?' He grabbed Thomas by the coat.

'You're a fool. It's not worth it,' whispered Thomas urgently. 'You'll get found out. You don't know what the governor's like.'

'I'm not going to argue with you, you pious little tyke. I didn't pinch any eggs. You go away and shovel muck and next time you fall overboard, make sure you drown. All right?'

He let go of Thomas and took a step away. Thomas stepped in front of him. 'Go and put them back. You'll only get into trouble.'

Harry pushed him away furiously. 'Stow it, girly,' he hissed. 'You wouldn't know, would you? That while you were gone Governor Ratcliffe ate one of those chickens? Him, and Reverend Brown, and Mate Dawkins, and no one else. And Master Hales said to me that if Governor Ratcliffe could eat chicken, he didn't see why he shouldn't eat eggs. Do you understand now?'

'You mean he told you to – ?'

Just then Governor Ratcliffe's servant, Wiggins, came round the corner of the tent. Thomas saw him first and broke off short. Both boys took a step apart and tried to look unconcerned, but their efforts were wasted.

'You boys,' said Wiggins conversationally. `Please come with me; Governor Ratcliffe wants to see you both.'

Thomas, his heart sinking, fell in with Wiggins at once. Harry, after glancing around for a moment, suddenly broke into a run in the opposite direction. Wiggins made a sign to the nearest workers at the palisade, two of whom began running to intercept Harry; he doubled back, tripped over a guy-rope and fell sprawling. There was a tell-tale crunch. When Harry got up, his coat was dripping. He looked down at it and seemed to think better of running any more.

'Well, there you are,' said one of the men who came up to take his arm. 'What a waste.' 'You blasted young thief,' said the other. 'Come on, now.' Wiggins and Thomas led the way towards the flagpole, Harry and his captors followed. Thomas could hear Harry behind him struggling and shouting, 'Leave go! It wasn't me, it was him! He made me carry them!' With a tight throat, Thomas realized Harry was quite likely to be believed. Squire Hales would stand up for him, and Ratcliffe would take any chance to punish Thomas. He had not expected it to be so soon, or over such a foolish matter.

The boys were made to stand on the platform, a few men sitting around the edge to keep them in place, while almost everyone in camp, drawn by the commotion, gathered round, talked and stared. Eventually Governor Ratcliffe appeared, magnificent and commanding. He climbed up next to the boys and held up his hand for quiet.

'We have here a case of stealing,' he said. 'Stealing food. Five eggs were found in the pocket of Harry Dean, who is now standing here. Is it not strange that while some of our company are risking their lives to bring us the food we need, others are stealing it from one another? By this evening we may all have plenty to eat. That may make this crime absurd. It does not make it any less serious. I hope to impress that upon all of you.'

He turned to Harry. 'Harry Dean, you were found with the eggs in your pocket. What have you got to say?'

Harry, after his breathing space, was able to put on a frank and easy manner. 'Well, sir,' he began, 'I was going to the tool pile to get a bucket when I saw Thomas Rowe coming out of the henhouse. I said, "What have you been doing, Thomas?" He said, "Quiet," he said, "I've got some eggs here and you can have half of them if you'll help me hide them." So I said we shouldn't steal them, 'cause they belonged to everyone, so then he said if I didn't keep quiet he'd say I stole them. So then I said I'd carry them for him because I had a bigger pocket, and he gave them to me and we were walking off. I was just waiting until he didn't suspect and then I was going to run off and give them back to the quartermaster. As God's my judge, sir, that's the truth. But then Mister Wiggins came along and spotted us both so I took fright. That's the truth, sir, whatever he tells you, and may I be judged rightly, sir.'

Thomas listened in disbelief. Why did I never learn to lie like that? he thought. If I could think as fast as he can, it'd be much more useful than telling the truth. A few ironical groans from the men standing closest were the only thing which gave him hope.

Ratcliffe exchanged glances with Wiggins and then turned to Thomas. 'Now you, Rowe.'

Should I agree to his story to save trouble? wondered Thomas momentarily, remembering how boys at school accused of a misdeed used to turn on one another and how shabby it made them look.

He swallowed and began, 'Harry took the eggs, sir. I was on my way to get a shovel and I saw him coming out from the henhouses. I guessed that he'd taken some eggs and I was trying to persuade him not to do it when Wiggins came and told us to come to you, sir. I never had the eggs. You know the rest ... sir.' He finished and stood miserably trying to avoid the eyes of the men standing below.

'That pious little liar,' shouted Harry. 'Listen to him. He makes himself out to be so holy but he'd rat on a friend to save his skin. The little ...'

'Be quiet,' said Ratcliffe sharply, as he stood considering. There was silence for about a minute, broken only by murmurs from the onlookers.

'Thomas Rowe,' went on Ratcliffe, 'what were you doing just before you went past the hen-run?'

Breathing a fraction more freely, Thomas said: 'I'd just been to see Master Dolley to get a job to do, sir.'

'Is Master Dolley here?' called Ratcliffe over the heads of the crowd. The carpenter shouldered his way to the front and stood at the foot of the platform.

'Did you give Thomas Rowe a job?' Ratcliffe asked.

Dour and tight-lipped, Dolley answered, 'Yes.'

'What was it?'

'Digging latrines, sir.' There was a laugh from the men standing nearest, and Harry sniggered.

'About how long ago was that?'

After a long pause, Dolley said, 'Maybe a quarter of an hour ago by the clock, sir.' After another pause he added, as if reluctantly, 'He's not the world's best worker; he'd hardly have had the time to find five eggs.'

'Thank you, Master Dolley,' said Ratcliffe smoothly. He turned to the other boy.

'And you, Harry Dean. What were you doing before you went to fetch the bucket?'

'I was doing a job for Squire Hales, sir,' replied Harry, and for the first time Thomas could hear a breathless, pleading note in his voice.

'What job?'

'Setting his belongings in order in his tent, sir.'

'And had he sent you to fetch a bucket?'

'Yes, sir,' said Harry uneasily. 'To wash some of his gear, sir.'

Squire Hales was found not to be in the gathering, and someone was sent to fetch him. No one except Governor Ratcliffe seemed at ease with this further delay. Men pretended to be about to leave and carry on with their tasks, but no one actually went.

Ratcliffe was more deferential towards the squire, asking his pardon for bringing him into this unfortunate business, but laying weight nevertheless on the need for him to clarify one small matter: what had his servant Harry been doing for the last hour?

Hales was a smallish, wiry man with a sour expression. He looked from face to face of those on the platform, and then said loudly, 'I don't know what he has been doing. I gave him leave about half an hour before the embassy got back and as far as I know he was going to go fishing. If he has got into trouble I am very sorry for it.'

There was silence for a few moments. 'So there we have it,' said Ratcliffe. 'Harry Dean, your master gives the lie to your story, and that points to you as the thief. Have you anything to say?'

Harry, at last, was tongue-tied. Thomas looked at him sidelong. Relieved as he was, he did not like to be cleared in this way. He was quite sure that Harry had spoken the truth when he said that Squire Hales had told him to take the eggs.

There were a few catcalls from the audience. Ratcliffe was drawing in his breath impressively to speak again, when Thomas jumped in with both feet.

'Sir ... Governor Ratcliffe,' he said breathlessly, 'might I speak to you ... just to you ... for a moment? I mean, here?'

He barely dared to glance at Ratcliffe, who looked at him as one might at a worm, but motioned him to the far side of the platform, holding up his other hand for continued silence at the same time. Thomas kept his eyes fixed on the side of Ratcliffe's face. He could smell the perfume on his hair, and the slightly musty scent of his velvet coat.

'Sir, I don't think it was all Harry's fault,' he said quickly in an undertone. 'When I was telling him to put the eggs back, he said Master Hales had told him to take them. I'm just telling you, sir, you don't have to believe it, but I did.'

Ratcliffe did not move and after a moment Thomas stole another look at his face. Ratcliffe was staring at him stonily; his face seemed strangely lifeless, like a model made of putty, the veined eyes without expression. There was nothing especially frightening about the face itself. Then what made the man so frightening?

'If you expect to find favour with me,' said Ratcliffe, 'by bringing me tales like this, you are mistaken. When you are older – if you ever grow much older – then you will learn when you are lucky to get off with a whole skin, and not meddle. Now watch this, and take heed.'

He stepped to the front of the platform again and indicated Harry.

'Harry Dean,' he began resonantly, 'has stolen five eggs. I know what you men have been through. You know even better, of course. On the ship, you had nothing for weeks but biscuit and gruel. I saw how you all bore up, and yesterday when the fish and berries were brought in how you all took your share and no more. But it wasn't enough for young Master Dean. Is he the hardest worker, sick or starving? No, he is young and healthy, has light work and a master to stand for him. Yet he thought he deserved five eggs. Of course, no one will get them now, as they were broken and wasted.'

This brought a few angry shouts from the listeners. Thomas wondered how Ratcliffe had the effrontery to dwell on this side of the case with his belly full of fresh chicken, if what Harry had said was true. But clearly most of the men did not see it in that light. They were much more angry at one of their own rank presuming to take more. And Squire Hales, perhaps, had been angry at not being numbered in the highest rank when he thought he should be. Thomas glanced at Hales. His face wore its usual expression, but Thomas noticed that his hands were tightly clenched.

'We have sick men and injured men in the tent over there,' Ratcliffe was saying, `Matthew Lang, Tom Ryder, Will Kemp who was hurt yesterday. We need them to be well as soon as possible, and they need good food. Did Harry Dean think of that? Did he consider that a man in fever would be left to choke down maggoty gruel because he, Harry Dean, had a better right to five eggs?

'And then,' went on Ratcliffe, 'when his theft was discovered he really showed what he was made of. First he tried to pin the blame on a friend whose only offence was to try to stop him. Then he even tried to put the blame on his master.' Thomas started.

`What do you think of a friend and a servant like that, men? Is he the man you'd like to have with you in a tight place?'

'No!' yelled some of the men derisively. Others yelled, too, but without any words that Thomas could make out. They were crowding close around the platform now.

Ratcliffe lowered his voice slightly, making it confidentially mocking. 'What do you think we ought to do with Harry Dean? What do you think someone like him deserves?'

'Flog him!' shouted someone. 'Throw him to the Indians,' said someone else loudly, and another, 'Let him starve and see how he likes it.'

Ratcliffe pretended to lean forward to listen. 'Yes ... thank you. And now ... silence ... quiet, men. Thank you. Squire Hales. Harry is your servant. Do you have anything to say on his behalf? I assure you it will carry weight with us. Or, if you want to discipline him yourself…'

In a thin voice, Hales answered at once, 'I leave him to you, Governor Ratcliffe. I make no excuse for his disgraceful behaviour. I am sorry for it.'

'Very well, then,' said Ratcliffe. 'Now, listen to me. In the ordinary way, Harry would be flogged. But Squire Hales has handed him to us, and we ought to hand him back in fair condition. And another thing; we have only a hundred men, haven't we? We need every one fit and healthy, even Harry. In a real emergency even he may be useful. So I'm going to let Harry off lightly.' There were some groans from the men at the front, which changed to gleeful shouts and whistles at Ratcliffe's next words. 'In fact, I'm going to give him to you. Now, then,' he wagged his finger, 'gently, men. I don't want you to damage him. But I do want you to teach him a lesson. If I give you Harry now, men, can I count on you to leave him in one piece, but teach him a lesson he won't forget, so he won't think of stealing again?'

The question expected the answer 'Yes,' and got it.

'Very well,' Ratcliffe ended, 'that's settled ... Take him.'

The three or four men who lifted Harry bodily down from the platform and started to carry him off among a jostling, jeering crowd were known to Thomas by name, as they were to everyone else, but he had always left a safe distance between himself and them. Whatever could be said for them, he doubted if they had never taken anything that wasn't theirs. After the ringleaders came most of the men left in camp, nearly all of them grinning and buoyant with expectation. He stood and watched the mob heading past the tents down to the river shore, where they were out of sight.

Ratcliffe turned and Thomas thought for a moment that he was going to speak to him, but with hardly a glance at Thomas he descended from the platform and went over to Mate Dawkins, who had arrived late in the proceedings and stood looking on grimly. Ratcliffe said something to him; the mate nodded and followed the crowd, just as a great cheer went up. Thomas listened for Harry's voice, but could not hear it above the general hubbub.

'Hey! Thomas!' cried Lon, hurrying past. 'Come on, you're missing the fun!'

'I'm not going,' said Thomas.

'What? If he'd had his way it'd be you!'

Thomas waved him away, silently mouthing a curse. He suddenly felt too drained to stand any longer, and sat down, dangling his legs over the edge of the platform. Ratcliffe was gone; he was safe for the moment.

Only for the moment, though. Thank God he had escaped the treatment Harry was getting, but things were bad enough. He now had several serious enemies. Harry would bitterly resent the men who were humiliating him, Ratcliffe, and his master, who had left him to fry. But it would be Thomas on whom he worked it off. That was as clear as day. Then there was Squire Hales, who would surely suspect from Ratcliffe's words that Thomas had said something about his part in the matter. And Ratcliffe himself, who had, Thomas was sure, let it slip on purpose. And as if that were not enough, some of the men would certainly suspect that he had taken the eggs, or that he had been to blame for Harry getting caught. How Thomas had hoped to earn a good reputation in the settlement; and now it looked instead as if he was becoming a marked man, with a whole array of grudges against him.

He felt horribly conspicuous in the nearly deserted camp. He wanted to go on with his work, but felt too foolish. Nobody will notice if I'm not working, he thought bitterly; no one else is. So he went to his tent and sat there, hunched with his hands over his ears so as not to hear the noise.

It was nearly an hour before people started to come back and take up their work, talking in subdued voices. Thomas ventured out and found his shovel again. There was no sign of Harry.

'Well, that'll teach the little devil to steal, at any rate,' Thomas overheard one man saying.

'If you ask me, it was a lot of fuss about nothing,' said another, 'when we'll have plenty of food tonight anyway.'

'As to that, I'll believe it when I see it,' said the first.

The foraging party got back an hour later, with John Smith, and few were really surprised to see that they were coming back empty-handed.