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All right, people: I guess the reason I didn't get many reviews for Chapter 12 was that it wasn't very clear where it was going: no Pocahontas and no John Smith. In this chapter at least you'll get John Smith back, and Pocahontas will follow in the next ...

Disclaimer: the usual.

CHAPTER 13

The men slouched into camp and lined up looking as if they were trying to hide behind John Smith. All the others gathered round, too angry and disappointed to trust themselves to say a word. Things had gone badly wrong, and any word that was said might make the disaster indelible. John Smith waited grimly for Governor Ratcliffe to meet him. When he did, they stood silent, staring at each other, for some moments. It was hard to say which of them was angrier. They both seemed about to speak, but checked themselves, remembering what hung upon their not quarrelling outright, especially in front of the men. Eventually Ratcliffe dismissed all the men curtly and motioned John Smith to come to his tent.

They sat opposite each other and waited for the servant to take himself off. John opened his mouth to speak again, but then deliberately waited. Ratcliffe burst out:

'Damn it, Smith – to come back with nothing – what were you thinking of? What happened?'

John, enraged as he had been, was suddenly at a loss for words. Ratcliffe's view

of the matter was so far from his that he did not know where to begin. He said stiffly at length:

'I couldn't believe that you would overturn my orders so quickly, sir. In the morning I was to treat with the Indians as I thought best. I thought it best to wait for them alone, and certainly not to ransack their village. That would have been sheer ...' Sheer madness, he thought, and bit back the word. He was still choked by the disbelief he had felt on waking to see his own men swarming around him, shouting to each other, overturning trestles, sweeping dried fish and heads of corn into their sacks. There they were, thirty of them, acting like a conquering army, with who knew how many Indian warriors close at hand. When he finally got them to stop, he dared not make them stay to set things in order again. He could only make them empty out their sacks, leaving the food in mixed-up heaps on the ground, and then march them out of the village as fast as they could go, bringing up the rear himself to urge them on. He was still tingling with the expectation of an ambush. How could Ratcliffe wantonly risk his men's lives like this, and then accuse him, John Smith, of acting foolishly? Let him explain himself now, John said to himself. I've said enough.

'So,' said Ratcliffe, breathing audibly, 'there was no emergency and no mistake: you deliberately disregarded my orders?'

Fury shot through John like a lightning bolt. 'Yes,' he said, looking straight in Ratcliffe's face. 'After you had deliberately disregarded mine, though I was in command in the place of danger. I believed that to obey your orders might kill us all, and so I disobeyed them.'

And what are you going to do about it? he thought, still facing the governor down. Charge me with mutiny? Take away my command? You can't and you know it. Heaven knows what your game is, but you still need me to play it. ... And so it seemed Governor Ratcliffe thought, for he was silent for a few moments, still staring at John. Then he began again, but the wind had dropped a notch. What had been dangerous anger was now bluster.

'I was told,' he said, 'that you were a man who knew how to seize an opportunity. You went there on an embassy. There was no opportunity of an embassy, clearly. But there was an opportunity to get food. When the only reason we wanted to treat with the Indians was so as to be able to feed ourselves, whyever did you neglect it?'

John stared at him. 'We need to get food,' he said, slowly and carefully, 'not only for the next week or two, but for the next few months at least. We might win one battle, but we won't last long if every man's hand is against us. They will soon find out that we aren't made of steel, if they don't know it already. We wouldn't stand a chance.'

'That is how things seemed yesterday,' said Ratcliffe. 'But today ... they fled from us, Smith, they are afraid of us. We had a chance to catch them on the wrong foot. It was different. If we won a battle, it would be different again. If we won one battle, we could win another. You're a soldier; I thought you understood these things.'

John was silent for a few moments. He saw Ratcliffe's point. He still believed Ratcliffe was wrong. The governor had not seen, as he himself had, the signs of strength and warlike discipline in the Indians; he was overconfident and arrogant and would lead the settlers to disaster if he were not curbed. But none of this was the real sticking point now. It was the girl he had met. She was the real reason, and a reason he could never admit, why, even if he were convinced that an all-out attack would best serve the interests of the English, he did not want to lead one. He was in trouble, and worse trouble was to come.

He heard Ratcliffe begin to speak again in a more persuasive tone, as if he thought that he could best win John over if they put the past behind them. 'Perhaps we can still do it. You have made me look foolish by countermanding my orders, and the men are disappointed at having no food, but ...'

I like that, thought John. Who led the men to expect food when there was no reason for it?

'...if they have some definite action to prepare for, then their spirits will recover,' Ratcliffe was saying. 'We can send scouts this evening to find out if the Indians have returned. If not, then perhaps we can do tomorrow what we should have done today.'

'We should certainly find that out,' said John, playing for time by avoiding the main issue. 'But if anyone goes, let it be me. I don't want to risk any of the others getting caught.'

'And what if you were to get caught, Captain Smith?'

'I wouldn't,' said John. 'But even if I did, they wouldn't harm me. You see, I would know what to do, Governor.'

Ratcliffe gave him a look that was not exactly angry, but ugly – a look of hatred, John thought, and it startled him. 'I think you are too reliant on your own good fortune, Smith,' he said. 'I had to risk those thirty men today to be sure of getting you out. What if the Indians had taken you prisoner, brought you here and tortured you in front of us? What should we have done then? You are very popular among the men, Smith; don't underestimate yourself.'

'I'm not worth thirty of them,' said John, nonplussed. What a ridiculous thing to imagine, his mind said quickly. He can't really think for one moment that it might have happened; he's only covering up for his own foolishness in sending them all into danger.

'I think you're worth thirty of them,' said Ratcliffe dispassionately. 'Some of them probably think you're worth the whole hundred and ten. Keep it in mind, Smith.'

John made an impatient gesture. He felt clearly, but could not put it into words just then, that his whole value to the company was his ability to be reckless. The ordinary soldiering, the training and captaining, could just as well be done by someone else. If he, John Smith, went on taking risks, of course he might be killed, but if he didn't, he might as well not be there. He didn't expect the others to risk anything for him. Of course they liked him, but no more than they liked themselves. To suggest that they might throw up the whole enterprise to save him was idiotic.

'Anyway,' continued Ratcliffe, 'to return to the question of the raid tomorrow...'

John drew breath. 'No, Governor Ratcliffe, there must be no raid tomorrow,' he said.

'What, Captain Smith?'

'I accept what you said, Governor, about sudden actions being likely to succeed, but I believe that things here are not as you understand them. No, please hear me out, Governor. They – the Indians – did not withdraw today for fear of us. They didn't flee. I sat in their village half the day and I know what I saw. They have a stockade half built round the place already. There can't possibly be less than two hundred men there, to do as much as they have done already with stone tools – which is all they have. They haven't given up. My belief is that they were testing us by leaving their village unguarded.'

'No, Smith, that must be a fancy. No one ever ...'

'Sir John, I'm sure of it. If we rob and destroy it, then they will make up their minds that we are enemies. God knows what they will think even now, with the food scattered everywhere, but at least we took nothing. If we had, then, you may be sure, we wouldn't have seen them again until some day at dawn a thousand or so of them burst through our half-built walls, set fire to our tents, and slaughtered us.'

'But the cannon ...'

'They have cover from the trees until close to the camp. They know the terrain. Even if they dare not attack, they can harass and starve us out. They are used to war and they obey their leaders. There is only one way we can survive here, and that is to gain their good will.'

John ended, satisfied that he had said what he believed to be true. Ratcliffe seemed to be affected by his forcefulness, at least to the extent of sitting still and thinking. After a minute he asked:

'I wanted to ask discreetly, not in front of the men, Captain Smith: was there any sign of gold there?'

A little surprised, John answered, 'No, Governor. There were ornaments made of shells, pottery, but no gold or metal of any sort.'

'H'm,' grunted Ratcliffe and sat brooding. After a moment he murmured, 'Perhaps the metals here are too difficult of extraction for the natives. The sooner we can explore, the better ...'

John waited. After another minute Ratcliffe said:

'You said, Captain Smith: attack us, harass us, starve us out. But there is a way to prevent that. Of course that might come to pass if we merely raided and then tried to carry on with our business as if the Indians were not there. But if we attacked first, and succeeded in killing many of them – as well as seizing or destroying their food, and perhaps taking some hostages ourselves – they would not be in a position to attack again very soon. We would gain ourselves a breathing space to strengthen our defences. Then we could seek out other settlements and destroy them too. We could conquer a kingdom in no time. In the end they would come looking for terms, and we could set what terms we chose. A petty raid breeds anger, but a real victory breeds respect. The vital thing is to get that first victory, to attack before they are really prepared. As a soldier, would you not agree, Smith?'

'As a soldier, yes,' said John, bracing himself for another effort, afraid of being cornered. 'But we didn't come as an army; we didn't come to conquer a kingdom. We are a hundred and ten, men and boys ...' (he felt Ratcliffe give him a sudden hard glance), 'not soldiers, just farmers and traders, with as much training and weaponry as is prudent to defend ourselves. If we had wanted to take Virginia by arms, we should have had to come with a very different force.'

'Improvise,' said Ratcliffe. 'I was told you were good at that.'

'Up to a point, Governor,' said John and shut his mouth.

'Very well, then,' said Ratcliffe after a short silence, 'I understand that your advice, as our leader in arms, is to do nothing – to survive on what food we've got, keep to camp, and hope to win over the Indians to friendship some time in the future – whenever they may deign to meet us?'

'Precisely, Governor,' said John smoothly. 'And to that end, next time I try to meet them I shall go alone, or maybe with just one attendant, someone like Thomas Rowe. I believe it may have been a mistake to take ten men this morning; it may have looked like insolence. Anything is worth while just to meet them face to face. Once we do that, once they know we are men, everything else will follow.'

'Exactly the opposite is true, as far as I can see,' said Ratcliffe testily. 'The longer they went on believing we are gods or demons, the better it would suit us.'

`Well, we do not know what they think us,' said John rather hastily, 'but the fact is, Sir John, that yesterday we were agreed on the need for the embassy. You expressed regret to me that our men had come to blows with the Indians. I do not see that what has happened today is reason enough to change our aims so completely. We have been here for two days – two days only. How much should we expect to have achieved in that time?'

He wondered if what he had said would make Ratcliffe flare up again, but Ratcliffe stayed calm. 'We must start as we mean to go on,' he said. 'Anyone who waits a day will wait a month. Need I say it? Every day we wait is another day for our men to go hungry. Four sick today ... only this afternoon I had to have up a young fellow, Dean, for stealing eggs. Every day we wait is another day for the Indians to call more of their rabble together and plan to attack us. If your embassy didn't work today, what hope that it ever will?'

This is the moment, thought John. I mustn't weaken now, of all times. 'Nothing else will work,' he said. 'An attack would be the death of us all – even if the Indians returned to their village and waited for it, which I don't suppose they will. Give me three days to find them and arrange a parley. I am sure that it can be done. If I fail, then we can talk of this again.'

'If you fail, then we may all be dead,' returned Ratcliffe bleakly.

'But I don't intend to fail,' said John.

It had come into his mind that he could look for the girl he had met, and try to arrange a parley through her good offices. He guessed that she was a person who might be listened to.

'We will all stay in camp tomorrow,' he said, 'to reassure the Indians, and let their blood cool. They may even come to us.' It's time I spent a day here to put heart into the men, he thought, and to keep a check on Ratcliffe. Every time I'm away he commits some new piece of folly. 'Then the next day I shall go to the village. If they are not there, I shall look further afield, alone. If I don't find them, then they are sure to find me.'

'And if they kill you?'

'They won't.'

'Very well then, Smith,' said Ratcliffe grudgingly, 'we will try your plan. Three days. But in the meantime, tomorrow particularly, I want you to train the men for an attack, and accustom them to the thought of it. They must not feel we are cowering here helpless.'

John nodded dubiously. He could not find fault with this. 'Yes, Governor.'

'And now,' said Ratcliffe, 'let us go out and show ourselves to the men. We have no supper for them, but we have a plan. That is better than nothing. After this, you go and eat. I think that fellow Macquarie caught a passably big fish. And then we must meet with Clovelly and Dawkins and the others and put it to them, before we tell the whole company at the muster.'

Christopher will agree with me on principle, thought John, and Sir Richard will agree with whoever he thinks is winning the argument. It should be all right, as long as Sir John Ratcliffe stands by what he has just said.

He and Ratcliffe threaded their way among the fence-posts, examining the work with a show of comradeship. Then they walked round and down to the water's edge where the boats lay moored. Here they were alone; a man who had been fishing was gutting his catch out of earshot.

'What's been going on here?' asked John, noticing how muddy and trampled the ground was at the water's edge.

'That boy who stole the eggs, Dean,' said Ratcliffe, 'I got the men to make fun of him and I suppose they pelted him with mud a little. Mate Dawkins stopped them before they got too rough.'

'I see,' said John. He did not want to hear much more about Governor Ratcliffe's punishments.

'Of course,' said Ratcliffe abruptly, 'regarding the Indians, even if we get this friendship and good will we are seeking for, it can only last for a short time. You must know that sooner or later they will be unwilling to give us what we want, and we will have to take it by force. The possibilities of this land are too great to leave it in the hands of a few hunters in skins. Whatever bond we make with them, we'll be playing for time: in a word, cheating them. Surely you see that, Smith?'

'Yes,' said John slowly, watching the distant fisherman.

'And so, it will be more honest, as well as sparing ill-will and suffering, if we defeat them by arms as quickly and completely as possible. And make no distinction of age and sex in doing so. They are all savages alike. They are all in our way.'

'I am not thinking of sparing the savages,' said John angrily. Liar, he thought. And you're protesting too much. 'I am thinking of the good of our men and what they can do. We are not strong enough to conquer the Indians I have seen and we have no choice but to play for time, as you say. And if you are suggesting killing women and children, I will say nothing of the rights and wrongs of it but only of what it would do to our men. When I've seen that done the company that did it has had to be broken up. No commander will trust a body of men who have done such things. We cannot do that here. Whatever happens next year, when new men have come to get fat on the work we do, just now we have to keep our hands clean. As best we can.'

'They're only savages,' demurred Ratcliffe.

'It makes little difference,' snapped John.

Ratcliffe arched his eyebrows. 'I am not proposing any action at this moment. I am only asking you to keep a clear mind about the ends of what we are doing, aside from the means. You must not get soft-hearted, Captain Smith.'

'No,' said John. 'I understand perfectly that we are here in the interests of our King and country. May I have your leave now, Governor?'

'Yes, Captain Smith. Be at my tent in an hour to meet with Sir Richard and the others. And, Smith ...'

'Yes, sir.'

Ratcliffe lowered his voice and spoke with emphasis. 'I am in command of this expedition. Do not forget it. Never disobey my orders again. If you do so, there may be consequences for others as well as yourself. Do you understand me?'

John was taken by surprise. Even as he quickly, and angrily, reasoned this away as an idle threat, it made his skin crawl.

'No, sir, I do not,' he said. 'If you mean that you intend to punish the men who came to fetch me today, then all I can say is that it is unjust. What choice had they?'

'That is my business, Captain Smith. Now: you have leave to go.'

John took a breath to say some more, but decided against it. With a very perfunctory bow, he turned on his heel and went.

He got some fish and ate, but the scene had taken away his appetite. He had won the argument, but it stuck in his throat that Ratcliffe had managed to send him away and keep the last word. He had judged that any more wrangling would be pointless, and as an honest soldier he did not want to undermine his commander's leadership. Ratcliffe had used this to make him look as if he were retreating with his tail between his legs. What a lot of cheap tricks he has, John thought. Cheap tricks and cheap threats. Is that all he knows how to do? Making it look as if I'm afraid of him!

And yet he was afraid of Ratcliffe. Not of anything Ratcliffe might do to him openly – what could he? – but afraid for all the others on the expedition, of what he could do to them by his spite and his misjudgements. More than that, he was afraid of the fact that he did not understand Ratcliffe; that whatever Ratcliffe hatched would be something that John could not foresee; that he would be in the thick of some piece of villainy, and responsible for it himself, before he knew what was happening.

But the meeting passed smoothly, with even Squire Hales, who was usually a great blocker and objector, seeming subdued. Then came the muster. Ratcliffe, to John's slight relief, said no more about measures against the men on the raiding party. The settlers seemed resigned and passively content for John Smith to take on the task of communicating with the natives alone. When the muster was over and the guards were being mounted, John took trouble to go about talking cheerfully to everyone, persuading them that the natives would be friendly once their first suspicions had been overcome. He still hoped that this might be true, but he felt self-conscious. Now that the full tension between his view of the settlers' position and Ratcliffe's had become clear, he felt as if Ratcliffe were watching his every step, ready to interpret anything he did without orders as disloyalty. He refused, for the moment, to think of what followed further from his disagreement with Ratcliffe. They had patched things over; he had three days to find the Indians, exert his charm on them, and get some results; perhaps after all the paths open to him, which had seemed to be diverging so alarmingly, could be brought back into one.

*****

Thomas was in the tent he shared with Lon, Ben and Nick. Only Ben was not there, being over at the hospital. A candle was lit, and Lon was greasing a snare he had made and intended to set overnight at the edge of the forest.

'I hope it works,' Nick said to him. 'I've a real hunger for flesh after seeing all that stuff we had to leave behind this afternoon.'

'Don't count on it,' answered Lon. 'It won't just have to work, we'll have to get to it first. Too many people like pinching food around here, eh, Thomas?'

Thomas sat silent on the edge of his bed, shoulders hunched.

'Oh, come on, Thomas,' said Lon. 'We know the right man got caught. The governor's a fair man else he'd have blamed you. You can be easy now.'

'Harry's not going to like me for it,' said Thomas drearily.

'That pipsqueak! We settled him good and proper this afternoon. You don't need to worry about him.'

'I'm more worried about the food,' said Nick. 'I could have shot Captain Smith this afternoon, for saying we had to leave it. Don't know what he thought he was about.'

'Why did you leave it, then?' asked Lon. 'Governor's orders were to take it.'

'Dunno,' said Nick. 'When we got there, we didn't see him right away, so we just started in on packing the food. Then I set eyes on him. Lying flat out, he was, with his head leant against the wall – I thought he was dead for a moment – looked as if he'd had his throat cut. But then he rolls over, gets up and bellows out ... he'd been asleep. Fast asleep, on his own in a place like that. He's a cool customer, you've got to give it to him.'

'Wish he was in charge,' said Lon.

'Quiet,' said Nick and looked warningly at the door. 'I don't know so much,' he went on in a low voice. 'The governor's a hard man to work for but I think we'll get what we came for quicker with him in the lead.'

Thomas made an impatient movement, but said nothing.

'Get our throats cut, you mean,' said Lon.

'Well, you think what you like, but you'd better not say it too loud,' said Nick. 'Have you finished with that thing? Let's go and set it, then. Coming, Thomas?'

'No, thanks,' said Thomas. 'I'm going to bed.'

After the men had gone he got out a pen and sharpened it, and then got ready to mix some ink, but abandoned the job and put everything away again. He couldn't summon the will to write anything. When Lon and Nick got back he was on his bed with his cloak over him.