The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book I
Chapter 10: Wicked Deeds
Adahy observed the marooned crew from a distance. The men sat around a campfire talking irritably. They were thoroughly weary and discouraged. Though ill-tempered, the crewmen were much too exhausted from the day's rowing to start physical fights with each other. Their misery pleased Adahy, as it would make his task easier and less risky.
Adahy was ready to wait for them all to fall asleep but the demon blade dampened his enthusiasm by pointing out that the sea conditions were not ideal for the ritual yet. There was not enough wind. While he hated having to wait, which only allowed John Rolfe and his woman to get farther away, he had no choice. Adahy soon returned to his well-hidden dinghy and curled up by Kelele's side, using the few short hours to sleep.
OCTOBER 1, 1613
He rose before dawn, coming to observe the crew from a distance as the men departed in their rafts. He waited until they disappeared on the horizon to follow in his boat with the dog panting over the bow. The wind picked up at dawn, whipping Kelele's ears around.
Knowing the ritual could only be performed on a windy night frustrated Adahy. What if the nights remained calm for the next month? The Blood Draw would be well out of reach by then. With any luck, some wind would come along soon. Adahy stalked the crew all day, staying a good distance behind to prevent them from spotting him.
…
"She keeps him on a really tight leash," Nicole whispered. "I mean, they're always together. I think she suspects that I know her secret. The way she flaunts him like that."
Jacqueline shook her head. "You haven't done a very good job of looking ignorant, but I don't think that it's too late. Why don't you talk to Pocahontas and strike up a friendship? If she trusts you, she won't suspect you have your eye on her gentleman," she returned.
"He's not her gentleman! He's not even her kind," Nicole snapped. She had a thoughtful look on her face as she considered what to do. "I just want to see if I can free him from her mind control somehow. I need to talk to him alone. Can you distract her?"
Jacqueline raised her brows. "I don't know her language. How could I distract her?"
"Get Louise to translate but don't clue her into the plan," Nicole instructed. "She cannot be trusted since she didn't seem to believe me when I told her the woman was a witch."
Jacqueline concurred, "Okay, I'll try. I hope you know what you're doing, Nicole. Witches can be dangerous. If she really is one, the crew might be in real trouble and not know it."
"If talking reason to him doesn't work, I know something else that almost certainly will," Nicole murmured. "We're going to do this after dinner. I want you to talk to Pocahontas anywhere that is away from the captain's quarters. You can do it in her cabin, on lower deck, or even in the brig for all I care. Just don't come near John's cabin."
Though apprehensive, Jacqueline nodded her agreement.
"I need to get back to work. Go see if anything is needed up on deck," Nicole advised.
The girls blew out their candles and trudged out of the hold, heading upstairs. Nicole returned to her own small cabin and Jacqueline headed for the helm to relieve John Rolfe from steering duty. The sun leaned in the sky past midday. Lunches had been eaten an hour prior. When Jacqueline found Rolfe, he was chatting with Pocahontas.
"I just want to be there already. I'm utterly tired of being on a boat," the exasperated Englishman griped to his nodding female companion. "I swear, Pocahontas. Once we get to Virginia, I am never setting foot on a ship again if I can help it!" He paused when he saw Jacqueline and kindly tipped his hat to her. "Bonjour, mademoiselle," he greeted.
The diplomat stepped aside and allowed her to take the wheel as she greeted him with a nod. "Monsieur Rolfe, I was wondering if Princess Pocahontas would like to hear some stories tonight after dinner. I could get Louise to translate for us," Jacqueline offered, glancing thoughtfully at the Powhatan woman. "She looks like someone who would love listening to a good story," she offered with a smile that only appeared natural.
John Rolfe beamed. "I'm sure we'd both love to listen to your stories, mademoiselle, and I certainly don't mind translating," he returned, causing Jacqueline to look hesitant.
"Right, I'm sure you wouldn't. But if for whatever reason you aren't available, Louise could take your place naturally. I mean, who knows? Something could come up."
John Rolfe shrugged. "I suppose." He translated Jacqueline's offer to Pocahontas.
The Powhatan woman's eyes lit up. "I'd love to! Tell her we can even exchange stories if she'd like. Storytelling is one of my favorite things to do with my people."
John Rolfe translated for Jacqueline. The French girl nodded and flashed Pocahontas an innocent-looking smile. "Tell her I'll meet her in the berthing quarters after supper then."
"She'll meet us in the berthing quarters after supper, love," John Rolfe told Pocahontas. "Should be a good time. Who knows? Maybe we'll get to hear stories from France."
Pocahontas rubbed her chin. "Have you been to France, John?"
John Rolfe grinned. "Yes, that's where I learned to speak the language. Mum and Dad sent me to school in France for two years when I was younger. King James has always given me the occasional diplomatic mission to Paris too. Keeping an alliance between two nations as large as ours is not easy. It requires a great deal of diplomacy."
Jacqueline seemed to zone out as the couple went back to conversing in English, focusing her attention on the skyline ahead. John Rolfe pointed down the stairs to Pocahontas. "Let's move to lower deck. I need to check on a few things," he suggested. Pocahontas rose from the seat she was occupying. She grabbed her crutches and handed them to Rolfe, making her way down the stairs with the help of the banister and his free hand. "Nice and easy, love," he murmured, returning the crutches once they reached the deck. "How's the ankle feeling today? Are you able to rotate it at all?"
"I haven't started trying to rotate it yet. But the swelling has gone down," Pocahontas spoke, taking her crutches to move to the railing. "Maddie rewrapped it this morning. It feels more stable, but it still hurts to put pressure on it." She winced and sighed as she settled in place to watch the scenery go by. It was really nothing but blue waves and bluer horizon. After all she had been through, she had grown sick of staring at the ocean. But she would always enjoy the feeling of the wind in her hair, no matter its length.
John Rolfe gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Good, good! Be right back, my dear." He went to check on some lines to see that they were pulled tight enough, shouted up something in French to Simone at the riggings, and then returned to Pocahontas's side. "So you want to know more about my time in France?" he inquired. "I was last there two years ago."
Pocahontas thought for a moment. "Actually, there's something else I want to know more about. We can save the tales of France for tonight with Jacqueline," she proposed.
John Rolfe leaned on the railing to Pocahontas's left, getting comfortable. "Alright, what do you want to know?" he asked as Meeko and Flit appeared from below deck. The latter zipped over to perch on Pocahontas's shoulder, looking slightly sleepy. Meeko clambered up Rolfe's body to reach his broad shoulder—a perfect perch for the larger animal. "Ow, ow, ouch! Meeko, easy with the claws!" Rolfe fussed. Meeko just cooed at him as he reached his lofty destination. Very alert, the animal sniffed around and peered down to see if he could spot any fish in the water. When he saw the waves sloshing against the hull of the ship, his face turned green and he wilted over the Englishman's shoulder like a rag doll. Rolfe laughed nervously, holding Meeko in place to prevent him from slipping off and falling into the ocean. "I don't think your friend grasps the difference between tree bark and human flesh. He reminds me of a cat I once owned."
Pocahontas giggled. "I know he doesn't, but I've gotten used to the scratches. It helps if you wear hide like I do," she pointed out, reaching over to scratch Meeko behind the ears. "How many times have I told you not to look at the water, Meeko?" she gently chided. The animal could not even muster a coo in response. Pocahontas just shook her head and turned her attention back to John Rolfe. "John, I've been wanting to ask you this for a while. I remember that you first told me about Sarah after we left the London port but you didn't offer any details. I want to know more about her. I would've asked before, but I felt like I didn't know you well enough and I'd be invading your privacy."
John Rolfe raised a brow at the unexpected question. "You mean my late wife?" he inquired, receiving a quick nod from Pocahontas. Rolfe glanced down into the water and pursed his lips, recalling to mind the memories he had of the happiest time in his life before he had met Pocahontas. He closed his eyes for a few moments and breathed in deeply. When he opened them again, he addressed Pocahontas with a smile. "Sarah was an extraordinary young lady. You two would've been great friends had you ever the chance to meet." He paused and breathed out a sigh. "She always kept a very open mind, even more so than myself. And she absolutely loathed bear-baiting."
Pocahontas perked up. "She sounds great! What did she look like?"
"Her eyes were blue like your necklace and her soft wavy hair was the color of white gold, falling in natural ringlets about her shoulders. It was utterly stunning when she wore her off-the-shoulder evening gowns. She was a petite woman though, which might be why…" John Rolfe detailed, his words dwindling at the end when his features contorted in anguish before he could stop them. Meeko and Flit were startled by his mood change.
"John?" Pocahontas murmured, wanting to reach out and touch his shoulder.
The Englishman gritted his teeth, angry about being subjected to the same old emotions yet again. He forced them back with every ounce of his willpower and shook his head clear. The grieving period was long over and there was no excuse for dwelling on the past at this point. He tried to look collected and straightened up his clothes a bit before attempting to speak again. "It is not something I like to recollect," he admitted as Meeko crawled down into his arms affectionately. John Rolfe willingly cradled the animal and stroked him as Meeko cooed up at him sadly. Rolfe uttered a small chuckle in response to the raccoon's sympathetic expression. "You're so sweet, Meeko."
Pocahontas bowed her head, feeling guilty for making someone remember something so painful. "I'm sorry," she began. "You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to."
"No, it's not that," John Rolfe countered, turning sideways to lean his lower back against the railing as he held Meeko. "I don't mind sharing. The part I mind is having to think about it. But… Oh, it's ridiculous! I should be over it by now. It's been three years."
Flit gave a squeak of dissent and Pocahontas let out a tense breath. "I mourned John Smith's supposed death for over five years," she confessed, turning so she could lightly brush John Rolfe's hand with her fingers as he scratched Meeko behind the ears. The raccoon slumped in the Englishman's embrace until his discerning nose identified a highly alluring scent. Moments later, Lorraine appeared on deck with a batch of fresh-baked cookies and a big smile. She went to offer some to Jacqueline and the other working girls. The raccoon hopped down to the deck in hurried pursuit.
Only slightly startled at the animal's departure, John Rolfe raised a brow in concern for his lady friend. "That long? Are you serious?! And in all that time you never received a single letter from him?" he asked in a tone of disbelief. He did not mean to be critical of the brave captain that had helped him save Pocahontas from the Tower of London but he found the revelation hard to comprehend. "If only Sarah was secretly alive somewhere," he lamented, shaking his head sadly. "But that's impossible. I saw her die. I saw her body go into the ground. Short of a divine resurrection, there is no possible way she could be alive again. Plus, I know for a fact she would write to me if she could."
"He said he must've started a thousand letters," Pocahontas uttered, staring at the deck.
John Rolfe reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "I know, love. I was there. I heard everything and I remember the sadness in your eyes."
"I wish I knew why he couldn't finish one," Pocahontas said softly, ruminating. She copied John Rolfe's pose and leaned her back against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest. "Sometimes I wonder if he really loved me as much as I thought he did."
John Rolfe raised both brows. "He could just be the type of fellow with his head in the clouds, you know? Some people can feel love very deeply but they lack the skills to maintain that love, to nurture it. As an unfortunate side effect, it can make their loved ones feel unloved and degrade their relationships over time. I admit I have known many men just like that. They always seem to yearn for something with every ounce of their being and constantly be in search of it, never to find it. I feel terrible for them. To me, that all seems like a hellish existence. A living nightmare," he expressed.
Pocahontas's eyes lit up, side-glancing at John Rolfe. "You know what? You're right! He did seem the way you just described at times. I remember," she recounted, biting her bottom lip in recollection, "we were sitting under a sycamore tree a few days after we had met. I asked John Smith if he planned to go back home since there was no gold to be found in my homeland. I wanted him to stay. But he said to me, 'Well, it's not like I have much of a home to go back to. I've never really belonged anywhere.' That got me to wondering, what of his friends and family? Could he have been an orphan?"
John Rolfe shook his head. "He was not an orphan. I have definitely heard that he has family in England but I don't know how he gets on with them. He could be the odd one out among his brethren, for all I know. You know how some people are born into families that they don't really fit into? That could easily be John Smith's situation. Of course, that's just a theory of mine. We can't know for sure unless we ask him. I suppose you could write him a letter when we get back to Virginia. Perhaps now you'll get one back."
Pocahontas smiled sweetly. "But he's off to see exotic new places on his own ship. I just hope he finds what he's looking for. He may have caused me much pain but I would never wish ill on him." She paused and tentatively poked her fingers together. "Will you tell me what happened to Sarah, John?" she suddenly asked, changing the subject.
John Rolfe sighed and nodded. "It was all my fault," he explained. "She died in child labor and I was the one responsible for her condition. It was my child that killed her."
Pocahontas raised a brow in surprise at the new information. She wanted to inquire about the state of the babe, but she felt more duty-bound to see to John Rolfe's state of mind first. "That doesn't make it your fault. You couldn't have possibly foreseen that, John."
John Rolfe slumped his shoulders. "On the contrary, I could have had I not been so naive. What I thought was, 'Oh, God designed women so perfectly. They were made to carry babies. Of course, she'll be perfectly fine!' But she wasn't. She was such a small woman and my father's family is rather known for having big heavy newborns."
"It's still not your fault," Pocahontas insisted. "Did Sarah want a child?"
John Rolfe nodded. "Yes, she insisted on it. It was I who failed to challenge her."
That was all Pocahontas needed to know as far as she was concerned. "If a woman wants a baby and her husband won't give her one, the marriage is doomed from the start."
"I'd rather our marriage had failed than she had died like that," he countered.
Pocahontas frowned. "Do you think she'd want you to blame yourself?"
John Rolfe growled. "But how can I not?!" he blurted, starting to pace. "She wanted me to be there to comfort her, despite the midwife's protestations. It was a full night and then the next day. She suffered greatly but made no progress. I had to watch as her screams grew weary and her skin sallow. There was so much blood. The fact that the human body even contained so much blood was mind-boggling to me. It was everywhere, over the linen and soaking down through the thick mattress. Pooling on the floor. I am never going to be able to forget what I saw!" he exclaimed with great fervor, holding his head.
A memory flashed through Pocahontas's mind. When she was twelve, she had come in to help her mother during the birth of two younger fraternal twin brothers. There had been a great deal of blood and her mother had nearly died. But, in the end, the Great Spirit had seen fit to grant the noble woman a few more years. "Yeah. I know what you mean, John. Human bodies do contain a ridiculous amount of blood. I know that you were a bit too preoccupied to notice at the time but, when you beheaded one of the pirates during our escape from the ship, it was like a blood fountain. Even in the dark, I could see that it was spurting everywhere. The mysteries of life and death, they really do boggle the mind."
John Rolfe stopped pacing and shuddered. "Please, don't remind me of such things."
Pocahontas frowned. "I'm sorry, John. But, remember, you did what you had to do," she said. "Nothing more, nothing less. My father will be proud and I'm sure yours will too."
John Rolfe huffed. "I know. It's just…" he began weakly, "I had never taken a life before. I killed several men that day. God willing, I'll never have to do such a thing ever again."
Pocahontas moved away from the railing and faced him, placing her hands upon his shoulders for balance. She pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'm sorry you were forced to do something like that. I have to admit that I too cringe whenever I remember how I cut that man's hand off. It didn't bother me at the time but the memory does bother me."
John Rolfe moved his hands to Pocahontas's hips to help her keep balanced. They were wider than Sarah's had been. Pocahontas truly was a robust woman compared to almost every lady of English descent he knew. If anyone could survive bearing him a child, it was her. "I'm sorry you had to do that, love. He caught me totally by surprise."
Pocahontas shook her head and smiled. "I'm just glad I got there in time." Flit flew up from Pocahontas's shoulder and chirped happily at John Rolfe. Pocahontas and Rolfe leaned in for a kiss but pulled apart abruptly when they heard a girl clear her throat.
John Rolfe, Pocahontas, and Flit turned to find a grinning Nicole holding up an English flag. Rolfe's eyes widened. "How did you finish it so quickly? I'm very impressed!" he lauded, leaning Pocahontas against the railing so he could take hold of the flag.
"I didn't make it at all!" Nicole admitted. "I found it. It must've been the flag the pirates used to trick unsuspecting ships into thinking it was safe to approach the Blood Draw."
Pocahontas picked up her crutches and examined the flag along with John Rolfe. "That reminds me," she suddenly said. "Have you scraped the paint off of the ship yet, John?"
"Oh, I nearly forgot!" John Rolfe replied. "Thanks for reminding me. I'll get right to it." He returned the flag to Nicole. "Put it up on the pole. I need to go scrape off the ship's old paint," Rolfe told her in French, heading down to the hold to collect some supplies.
John Rolfe finished scraping the paint off the ship's sides by nightfall. He decided that painting the new title would have to wait until Jamestown. They needed to focus their energies on getting home. He used the rope and pulley system to raise up the platform he was seated on for the job. Reaching the railing, he climbed over in time for supper.
…
By sundown, Adahy had noticed a flickering light in the sparse woods up ahead. He brought the dinghy into shore. The wind had calmed at the day's end but Adahy came to the conclusion that he must be prepared for the ritual anytime the opportunity might arise. He snuck over and found the pirates' encampment before dark had fallen completely. Once asleep, the crewmen would all be sitting ducks. Adahy decided to collect all the other supplies for the ritual first. Then he would be back to collect the human element in the dead of night. The demon blade had insisted that he waste no time in this endeavor. There was a short list of things Adahy would need for the grand summoning.
For one, the heart of a ravenous sea creature. That one he thought would be the hardest item to procure. However, he was almost ecstatic when after a few minutes of beach exploration he came upon a dead beached hammerhead shark about a mile north of the pirate crew. It was only just beginning to rot. Adahy flipped out the demon blade and cut into the carcass. All he had was moonlight to see, but his knowledge of butchering prey helped him to quickly find the heart. He used the blade to slice through the blood vessels adhering it to the body and yanked it out of the chest cavity. Blood only oozed a little from the severed veins and arteries. He shook it out and dropped it into the small burlap sack hanging from his waistband. He would have to dig in the sand for what he sought next—a large seashell abandoned by its last invertebrate resident. Adahy would also need a raft other than his own cock boat, as he needed the dinghy to travel.
Fortunately, Adahy would not have to build one. The pirates had done the work for him. They had foolishly left their makeshift rafts unattended on the beach and out of view of the camp, giving Adahy the perfect opportunity to steal one. He snatched the biggest one he could find and dragged it down into the water, floating it a mile up the coast so he could do the ritual in secret without alerting the crew. He felt more determined as the wind picked up again, despite the darkness. Upon the raft, he built up a tall stack of dry driftwood, palm fronds, and other kindling for a bonfire. The chore took about five hours with his one hand. Another hour was required to collect all the supplies for the ritual, save the human sacrifices. That was his final task. By the time he got back to the pirates' encampment, the fire was out and the crewmen were fast asleep. It was perfect. Conditions were ripe for the ritual to take place. The copper-skinned man slit the throats of five members of the crew—Jack Foul, Quicksilver Owen, Raw Garret, Sticky Fingers Phil, and Rattle John being his least favorite among them. He dragged the corpses down to the beach and loaded them into his dinghy. Kelele began to sniff at them curiously.
Adahy pushed the boat out into the dark water. Sunrise would be in only a couple of hours and the ritual needed to be completed under the veil of darkness. He would have to hurry. Once he reached the location where he had left the raft, he set the corpses on the wood pile and lit it on fire with the dagger. It did not take long for the whipping wind to make the dry stuff burst into flame. The foul scent of burning flesh filled the air but the wind picked up and blew it north. The demon blade dictated the proper chant to Adahy as he slowly pushed the burning raft out into the deep dark water. Just as the current took hold of the raft, Adahy withdrew to the shore and followed along on foot. He reached the final words of the chant and pulled the shark heart out of the burlap sack, expertly tossing it onto the burning raft which had drifted nearly thirty feet away by that time.
The moment the item hit it, an angry red whirlwind erupted from the top of the bonfire and reached outward and inland toward Adahy. "You have summoned the Storm Demon of Mahalkrak," it announced in a series of hellish voices mixed into one. Kelele yelped and ran into the forest to hide from the behemoth. A terrifying face appeared in the fiery vortex and glared out at Adahy. "What have you to offer me?"
Give him the seashell first, instructed the blade. Then the handful of sand, followed by the drinking skin filled with briny saltwater, the driftwood, and the live oyster.
Adahy did as told, throwing the items into the vortex. The storm demon devoured them. With the offerings from the sea, it began to grow. The being spewed massive storm clouds into the sky above, obscuring the moon and stars. The face roared, "Now is time for your ultimate sacrifice. You will give to me your firstborn male child."
Adahy gasped at the revelation. "What? But I have no children!" he cried. Fear filled his heart, thinking the spell would not work. "Is there something else I can offer?" he asked.
"No! You pledge to me your firstborn son when you have one. That is my demand," the being ordained. "Pledge him to me now and I will happily do your bidding."
Pledge it! urged the demon blade. I command you.
"Wait but… What if I never have a son? You will get nothing?" Adahy probed further, suppressing a hopeful look. This might be easier than expected. His tribe was dead and he had no plans to ever procreate. He did not even like children. Maybe he would spawn a bastard son from a prostitute and not even be there to see the boy or care what happened.
"You will. And when you do, he will be mine," the storm demon returned.
Adahy's eyes widened. "How do you know?"
"Enough questions! Give me your pledge now or I will return to my own realm!"
Make your pledge or I will end you! threatened the blade.
Adahy's heart shuddered anxiously. Could he really agree to this condition? What were the chances he would regret it later? He feared the answer. The blade gave him a painful jolt in warning. "Okay, okay!" he cried, trying to appease them. "I accept the proposition and pledge to you my firstborn son if and when he is ever born. You have my word!"
Lightning and thunder erupted in masses from the clouds and the winds roared. "I am at your command. What do you wish of me?" replied the storm demon in submission.
"Travel north along the coast, find the Blood Draw, and run it into the beach so it may be stuck on land where I will come upon it!" Adahy called out over the storm winds.
Rain fell heavily from the thundering sky and the ocean waves grew large and violent. "It will be done!" declared the beast. The whirlwind face evaporated as the storm rapidly blew itself northward. Adahy watched the thunder and lightning disappear on the north horizon, leaving a much calmer sea and crystal clear sky in its wake. A soft breeze blew.
I am pleased with you, spoke the blade. Now, we will get what we need and you will have a chance to redeem yourself. With any luck, we'll find the ship in the next couple of weeks and all the innocents on board will be mine! it triumphantly decreed.
The Copichican grinned evilly, once again drawn into the demon blade's dark mindset. Who cared about a future son? He had no use for one anyway. There were no Copichican women left anywhere in the world, as far as he knew, so any heir of Adahy's would be a disgusting hybrid regardless. "Excellent," the copper-skinned man murmured. He called Kelele back from the forest and jumped into the dinghy with the canine, letting the strong current carry them northward in the devastating wake of the storm demon.
…
It had required some additional plotting and preparations but Nicole and Jacqueline had come up with a better plan for separating Pocahontas and John Rolfe at the end of the evening meal. The two whispered among themselves at the dinner table as the rest of the crew chattered excitedly in several different conversations. The captain of the ship and his dark lady friend were likewise thoroughly engaged as they talked and laughed about all the things they were planning to do once they got to Virginia. Pocahontas had high hopes that they would not be too late for the Powhatan harvest festival. It had always been her absolute favorite event of the year and she had never missed it before.
When the meal was drawing to a close, Jacqueline leaned over to Charlotte and whispered in her ear, "Monsieur Rolfe mentioned to me that he wanted someone to fetch the harp from his personal quarters after dinner. Would you mind, my friend?"
Charlotte smiled. "I'd be happy to! Should I go now?"
Jacqueline nodded her head and Charlotte hopped up and left. Jacqueline scooted over into Charlotte's seat, right next to Louise. Pocahontas, in turn, was on Louise's other side. Jacqueline leaned over and whispered into Louise's ear just low enough that John Rolfe could not hear, "Could you whisper to Pocahontas that I have something I want to show her in the berthing quarters? Girls only! You can come too to translate, Lou-Lou."
A curious expression crossed Louise's face and she nodded. Pocahontas and John Rolfe were chatting in English about Powhatan harvest traditions. Rolfe was highly engaged. Just as Nicole saw Louise nod her head, the scheming blonde leaned over to Lorraine and whispered, "Monsieur Rolfe seems interested in autumn cuisine. You had a garden back in St. Augustine. Why don't you tell him about it? I'm sure he would be interested."
Pocahontas was talking fast and distractedly until Louise tapped her. "Huh?" she uttered, turning curiously to Louise. Lorraine simultaneously tapped on John Rolfe's shoulder. He sucked in a breath and pivoted toward her. Louise leaned forward to whisper something in Pocahontas's ear as Lorraine began talking Rolfe's off about her gardening skills.
Just then, Charlotte burst onto the deck with an aghast look on her face. "Monsieur Rolfe, you must see this! I don't even know how to describe it. It's just bizarre. Come quick!"
John Rolfe jumped up from his seat at Charlotte's intrusion, causing Lorraine to lose his attention. Pocahontas nearly turned her attention to the outburst as well but Jacqueline grabbed her hand and started talking loudly to distract her, pulling her along to encourage her to follow. She handed Pocahontas her crutches and led her and Louise down below.
Meanwhile, John Rolfe hurried after Charlotte. Nicole followed swiftly. He burst into his cabin to find Charlotte pointing to his bedspread. He nearly gagged when he caught sight of it. A dead fish had been gutted on his clean white sheets. Its blood had been used to paint a circular insignia in the linen and its organs lay where the lines met. The English diplomat gaped at the sight, shocked into immediate silence. "Monsieur Rolfe, d-do you know how this could have gotten here?" Charlotte stuttered out, very disturbed.
John Rolfe shook his head. There was a knock on the door, making Rolfe and Charlotte nearly jump out of their skins. They turned to see Nicole poke her head in the door. "Is everything alright? Charlotte, you got me worried when you…" she began, glancing over at the bedsheets. She shrieked at the sight. "When did that happen?!" she wailed.
The Englishman drew his brows together angrily. "I haven't a clue when it happened but it's disgusting," John Rolfe replied. "Is this someone's idea of a prank? Unbelievable!" he griped, throwing his hands up in the air. Then he gasped and brought a finger to his lip. "Oh dear, I do hope there isn't a pirate stowed away on the ship somewhere!" he fretted.
"I don't know, monsieur. That seems unlikely," Charlotte answered. "I think it's more plausible that one of the girls has a bad sense of humor. But one would have to be pretty ungrateful to prank you of all people. You saved all our lives!" she proclaimed as Nicole slunk into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Charlotte looked apologetically at the Englishman. "I am sorry, Monsieur Rolfe. This was a shameful act. I have no idea who would have done such a thing." She shook her head and went to collect the linens from the bed. "I will dispose of this mess for you. I am not so squeamish as some."
Just as Charlotte reached for the bedsheets, Nicole rushed forward and slapped her hand away. "No! You mustn't touch it! Don't you even know what this is?" Nicole scolded.
Charlotte squealed in alarm and shrunk behind John Rolfe, holding her slapped hand. She peered back at Nicole with a startled look on her face. "Wh-what are you talking about?!"
Nicole did not respond as her eyes focused again on the alleged 'prank.' As she gazed down at the fish blood insignia, her eyes dilated. She backed away, making the sign of the cross over her chest. Then she clasped her hands together and uttered a prayer.
John Rolfe stepped forward. "You know who did this?" he interrogated Nicole. "Tell me at once and I'll be sure the prankster spends a day in the brig!" he demanded, furious.
"Monsieur Rolfe," Nicole spoke, sighing. "You don't know what this is either, do you?" The inquiry sounded condescending as if Nicole deemed him dangerously ignorant.
John Rolfe blinked. His eyes darted to the deceased chum again, trying to figure out what it was that the French girl was implying. "It's a fish, of course. A dead one," he said.
Nicole slapped her forehead. "Monsieur, you and I need to have a talk," she glanced at Charlotte, "alone, if you please. Speak of this to no one, Charlotte. This is a matter of grave concern. The last thing we want to do is to cause a panic among the crew."
Charlotte nodded timidly. She took the hint and skedaddled, closing the door behind her. John Rolfe stomped his foot on the floor in anger and pointed furiously to the bed. "I demand to know what you think this is straightaway and, furthermore, if you have any suspicions regarding who is responsible!" he charged, peering again at the guts. Nausea rose in his throat and the Englishman brought a handkerchief to his mouth. "Ugh…"
Nicole bit her lip, glancing at the bed and back to John Rolfe. She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the skin between them. "Monsieur, are you telling me that you don't know witchcraft when you see it? Is it not obvious what this is? It's a witch's insignia!"
John Rolfe stood there agape for a moment before he rapidly shook his head. "What? No! Witchcraft…? That's insane!" the diplomat insisted, tripping over his words.
"When was the last time you were in your cabin, monsieur?" Nicole inquired, ignoring his protestations. "I know you are skeptical but I am afraid these things are very real. The Bible mentions them. I fear that your disbelief puts you in very real danger, John," Nicole warned. Taking a cautious step forward, she placed a hand lightly on his broad chest.
John Rolfe furrowed his brows. He did not recall giving her leave to call him by his given name but he pushed her lack of etiquette to the back of his mind. There were far greater concerns at present. While he was skeptical about the witchcraft allegation, he did take a moment to consider the possibility. After all, Pocahontas had very recently brought him to awareness of the presence of demons on the earth. Maybe Nicole was right. "I-I…"
"It's alright," Nicole told him reassuringly. "Whoever the witch is, we will weed her out from the rest of the crew. None of the true Christian women aboard this vessel would ever want anything bad to happen to you, I guarantee that to be the case. You rescued us." Nicole pushed against him lightly until he took a step back. She used her free hand to pull her cross necklace out from under her collar. Holding the item in her fist, she brought it to her heart. Before John Rolfe could even open his mouth, she asked again, "When was the last time you were in your cabin? This is important. Please, try to remember."
John Rolfe swallowed. He glanced up and to the side, trying to recollect the day's busy events. "It was this morning, I believe. I've been pretty tied up with the crew all day."
Nicole drew back from him and started to pace the length of the cabin. The Englishman relaxed a bit when there was more distance between the two of them. Nicole appeared to be deep in thought. "Well, I was down below working on the girls' outfits for most of the day. I still have a few left to finish, in fact. But doesn't Geneviève Isaacs come in to make your bed each morning after you leave, monsieur?" she thoughtfully inquired.
John Rolfe nodded. "Yes but she seems like such a sweet girl."
Nicole shook her head. "I'm not saying it was her, per se," she added as she paced. "I didn't know her well back in St. Augustine but she was always in church on Sunday. So was her sister." She turned back to peer at the 'cursed' bed, sniffing the air. "Hm."
"Hm what?" John Rolfe inquired.
Nicole nodded toward the fish. "There is not a strong smell. This fish has to be relatively fresh. If it had been there all day, it would definitely stink by now," she soon determined, "especially given this warm weather." Nicole stopped dead in her tracks.
John Rolfe almost panicked. "What? What is it?!"
Nicole turned and stared at him with her eyes widened in revelation. "I just remembered something! I was below deck for most of the day but… do you remember after I showed you the English flag I had found? Mademoiselle Pocahontas, the Indian princess, she said something to you and then you went to scratch the paint off of the sides of the ship."
John Rolfe nodded. "Yes, of course."
Nicole peered down and pursed her lips. "I had gone to raise the new flag to the top of the pole. I remember looking at the helm…" She stopped for a moment, looking hesitant.
"Yes?"
Nicole gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "I remember it now! I saw Pocahontas and her pets go into your cabin. I didn't think anything of it at the time. To be honest, I'm surprised I even remembered that at all! You don't think…" she uttered, tapering off.
John Rolfe raised a brow. "You saw Pocahontas enter my quarters? Then I ought to go ask her about it. Perhaps she saw something on her way out that might shed light on this mystery," he proposed, scratching his chin. He turned to leave. "She's probably below exchanging stories with Jacqueline. I'll go find her. You wait here, mademoiselle."
Nicole ran over and jumped in front of him, blocking his retreat. "Wait, please! I'm afraid you might endanger yourself if you approach that woman," she warned, backing up and pressing herself against the cabin door. John Rolfe was baffled by the girl's strange behavior. "I know you think you love her but something about her just isn't right. She's the only non-Christian person aboard this ship. We must be careful! John, please consider the evidence," she insisted, gingerly reaching behind her and locking the door.
John Rolfe froze solid and stayed that way for an extended time. Just as Nicole started to get nervous, he knitted his brows in anger. "You… you would dare to insinuate that my beloved is, is, is… a witch!" he charged indignantly. "How dare you, girl! And what would you know of her religion or lack thereof? You've never spoken to her about it! You can't, you don't speak a common language!" He paused as Nicole shrunk away from him, the rage gradually falling from his demeanor. John Rolfe eyed the girl suspiciously as she cowered against the door frame. "And how do you proclaim to know so very much about witchcraft while implying you are not the witch in question?" he rapidly interrogated.
There were unshed tears in Nicole's eyes. "I am not a witch! I'm a pious Christian just like you, baptized at birth. The Bible warns us of witchcraft and its association with the devil. I only know what it looks like because a kind priest in St. Augustine lent me a book on the warning signs of witchcraft. He believed I was a potential target, you see. It was because, well," she hesitantly explained, "he said it was because I was the prettiest girl in town." She blushed fiercely and shrugged, peering down at her feet. John Rolfe looked at her like she was nuts. "I-I don't really see it but I, um, did go ahead and read the book to strengthen my religious defenses and my faith," she prattled, tensely avoiding his gaze as she twirled a lock of golden hair around her pointer finger absentmindedly.
John Rolfe crinkled his face in puzzlement. "How does beauty make one a target for witches? I would think devil-worshippers are more concerned about turning souls away from the straight and narrow regardless of fleshly appearance. It is not that part of us that endures," he pointed out. "It is our souls that Satan wishes to corrupt."
Nicole fervently shook her head. "It's not that simple! The Bible doesn't go into great detail about every single thing because there is so much information to cover about Creation and God knows we humans are of limited mind. But witchcraft is an observable phenomenon. Some Christian witnesses have sought to warn others about what they saw, so books have been written on the matter. For example, you might be surprised to learn that some witches are far older than they look! I learned that from the priest's book. They have dark magical spells that can extract the youth and beauty of virgins to bestow upon themselves. That's how they hide their ugliness from all of Christendom!"
John Rolfe's eyes rolled back in his head and he slapped his forehead, exasperated. "Oh, sweet merciful heavens!" he declared. "You really are a basket case, aren't you?"
Nicole scowled at him. "Open your eyes and see the truth, John! You're under a love spell. Every soul on this ship knows something is up except you. Just look at her," she spat in disgust. "Your fairytale princess is old. She's nearly a decade past her prime. I mean, she might even be twenty-five or more. You think she's still a virgin at that age? Of course not! You deserve a true maiden, someone who is pure. Someone like, well…" She paused and stomped her foot hard on the floorboards. "Not like her!"
John Rolfe stared at her with boredom written all over his face, not even caring to dignify her asinine claim with a reply. "Please leave my cabin," he said in a monotone voice.
Nicole grimaced. Then her face fell and she burst into tears. "Please, John, listen to me. I-I love you! I'll give you my whole self—heart, mind, body, and soul. You don't need that woman, that witch," she implored as she pushed past him, much to his confusion. She tore the nasty sheets off the bed and plopped down. Leaning backward in a seductive pose, she placed her palms behind her on the bare mattress. "I am yours for the taking. Pledge your love to me before God and you can take me right here, right now! Have your way with me. I will be your humble servant, your willing slave!" she declared.
"Get off my bed!" John Rolfe shouted, stomping loud enough for others to hear. He was so hopping mad that he grated his teeth, his nostrils flaring. The golden-haired girl went slack-jawed in disbelief at the emphatic rejection. "You've soiled it enough for one day."
This is a powerful spell, Nicole thought. She was sure no rational man would refuse such an offer coming from her and she furrowed her brows. "I'm not the witch, John."
"I don't think you're a witch, I think you're a moron!" John Rolfe roared, raising his voice much louder than he had in years. He took her firmly by the bicep—not hard enough to hurt her, though she was surely startled—and pulled her up off the bed. Then he gave her a firm shove in the direction of the door. "Spoiled brat, get out! Leave me!"
"But John?!" Nicole cried, turning back to him.
"Get out before I do something I'll regret!" John Rolfe blared. He desperately needed a moment alone to pacify himself or he feared he would scare the other ladies on the ship with his fierce anger. In his genteel upbringing, his father had always been very earnest about teaching him and his siblings the importance of treating others well. Part of which meant a man had to control his temper in the presence of women and children because a full-grown man's rage could be very frightening to such comparably fragile individuals.
Nicole narrowed her eyes, convinced he was bluffing. "You wouldn't hurt a woman!"
John Rolfe's face was crimson. Sure, his parents had taught him the appropriate response to nearly every tense social situation imaginable but, unfortunately, they had overlooked the very situation Rolfe now found himself in. Instead of retreating, Nicole took a step closer as if to challenge him. He brought his hands to his vein-pulsing head, feeling like it would explode. It took every last ounce of his strength not to raise a hand to her. What to do, what to do? Finally, he roared in anger and pointed lividly to the filthy sheets on the floor. "Clean up this mess you've made and someone will be up to escort you to the brig shortly. You're lucky I don't believe in whipping!" he spat, shoving past her.
"No!" Nicole cried. She could not go to the brig. The shame would be too great for her if everyone learned of what she had done. Instinct suddenly took over and she snatched an empty wine bottle off the Englishman's desk, swiftly pursuing him. John Rolfe had just begun to turn his head at the sound of rapid footsteps when she brought the item crashing down over the back of his cranium. The glass bottle shattered on impact.
John Rolfe slumped against the door, shards of glass cascading around him, and then rolled sideways onto the floor with a thump. A few seconds passed and he remained motionless. Seeing what she had done, Nicole went catatonic. Fear pulsed through every vein in her body. If he was dead, her life was over. She would be executed when they arrived in Jamestown. And that was only assuming the girls on the ship did not tear her to shreds first. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" she whispered repeatedly, crouching over him.
In a panic, Nicole began ransacking the cabin for a broom and dustpan. She had to clean the floor before attempting to move him. The last thing he needed was more injuries. It did not take long to find what she needed in the small supply closet by the head of the bed. She swept up the shattered glass on and around John Rolfe's body, trying to get every last shard that she could see in the dim light. It was a frustrating chore. Once the floor was tidied, she covered the bed with fresh linens and tossed the spoiled ones out one of the port side windows. Nicole returned to Rolfe's side in order to check his breathing, heaving a huge sigh of relief when she discovered that it was shallow but present.
She would need to get him onto the bed to examine his head under candlelight. The young blonde quickly discovered that this would be no simple feat. John Rolfe was considerably bigger and heavier than she was. She had to drag him away from the door by his left arm. When she finally had him prone on the floor, she hooked her elbows beneath his underarms and heaved him up with all her might. She had to drag him toward the bed that way. Fortunately for her, it was less than three feet off the floor. She used all of her strength to haul him up but then found herself losing her balance and falling back. The unconscious Englishman fell heavily on top of her on the now-clean bedspread. Pinned beneath his body, she squirmed and wriggled as she tried to breathe under the weight. "This is not how I pictured our first time, John," she croaked.
It took a full minute for Nicole to maneuver him off of her. With his legs hanging off the side of the bed, it took another five minutes of pushing and pulling to get him in the right position. Finally, she had him on his back along the length of the mattress with his head on the pillow. She wiped the sweat off her brow and heaved another huge sigh of relief. "Thank… the Lord… Christ that's… over," she huffed and puffed, fanning herself.
Once Nicole had regained her composure, she lit more candles so she could get a look at his head. She placed a hand under his neck and gently lifted it up, gasping when she saw blood on the pillow. "Oh no, no, no, no, no, no!" she cried, rushing to find bandages somewhere in the back of the cabin. Nicole eventually came upon the former captain's medical supply and grabbed all the bandages she could find, wrapping John Rolfe's head tightly to stop the bleeding. She took the opportunity to remove the pillowcase and replace it with a fresh one, disposing of the bloodied one the same way as before. In case he died in the night, it was imperative that she destroy all evidence of her misdeeds.
Nicole waited a good thirty minutes before removing the bandages. She dabbed John Rolfe's head with rum to clean the cut and remove the dried blood. Again, she checked his breathing—still shallow but present. When she finished, she felt much relieved. Sitting on the side of the bed, she cupped Rolfe's face with one of her hands and sighed. "Sleep now, my love. When you awaken, the spell shall be broken," she crooned, pressing a kiss to his lips. She pulled back and rested lightly on his chest, watching his face as he slept. Eventually, she rose to her feet, blew out the candles, and left.
…
The Powhatan princess was down in the berthing quarters exchanging girly conversation and stories with Louise and Jacqueline when she started to miss John Rolfe's presence. Once the thought had occurred to her, she also found herself missing Meeko, Percy, and Flit. It was unusual for them to be absent for so long. The animals normally kept her company at night before following her to bed. She recalled not having seen them since some time before sunset. When Charlotte came into the room in her nightshirt, the girl looked slightly troubled but ready for sleep. Pocahontas quickly waved her over. "Ask Charlotte if she has seen John, Meeko, Percy, or Flit recently? I haven't seen them for a while," Pocahontas said to Louise. The brunette nodded and translated.
Charlotte shook her head. "I haven't seen the animals but I can go check on Monsieur Rolfe for her," she offered. "Perhaps the animals are with him at the moment?"
"I'm sure he'll show up when he is free. It sounded like he had an important matter to attend to earlier. And I last saw the animals in the galley," Jacqueline interjected. "I'm sure the masked one is still stuffing himself. He'll show up when he runs out of room.
Louise translated the other girls' words for Pocahontas. "Yes, please check on him! That is very kind of you, Charlotte," she replied, giving the brown-eyed girl a smile and nod. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you also check the galley to see if Meeko, Percy, and Flit are still there? I just want to make sure that they're alright." Once Louise translated back, Charlotte returned Pocahontas's smile and grabbed a lantern.
Jacqueline grabbed Charlotte's wrist. "Wait!" she objected, catching everyone off-guard. She grinned nervously. "I… um. You look so tired, Charlotte. Why not let me go check?"
Louise frowned. "But you were in the middle of a story!"
"Well, I…" Jacqueline began clumsily.
Charlotte smiled and patted her friend's hand. "I'm fine. At least I didn't have to scrape the paint off of the ship," she replied, pulling away. She was gone before Jacqueline had time to protest further. A sheen of sweat appeared on the girl's forehead.
"You alright, Jacqueline?" Louise inquired.
Jacqueline simpered. "Oh... yes, I'm alright. Charlotte's often too kind and shy to refuse favors and I thought she looked tired. That's all. Guess I was wrong," she blurted.
…
When Charlotte emerged up top, she ran into Nicole. "Oh, hello! Have you and Monsieur Rolfe solved the problem, Nicole? Is everything alright?" she worriedly inquired.
"For now, yes. We came up with a plan. There is nothing to worry about tonight, so off to bed with you," Nicole ordained, trying to shoo the shorter blonde back downstairs.
Charlotte looked relieved but resisted the gesture. "Thank goodness! Oh but wait—one more thing. Is our captain still in his cabin? The princess is asking after him," she added.
Nicole gritted her teeth at the word 'princess' but donned a forced smile nonetheless. "Yes, he is. I changed his sheets for him and he retired. He was exhausted after our talk and told me he does not wish to be disturbed," she said, pushing past Charlotte.
Charlotte nodded. "I understand. I'll leave him be. Were the animals with him?"
Nicole stopped dead in her tracks and glanced back at Charlotte. "Animals?" she uttered, raising a brow. Realization suddenly dawned. "Oh, yes, the animals! Yes, they were with him. They decided to sleep with him tonight. Now, I'm off to bed. Goodnight, my friend! I hope you sleep well tonight. Wish the others goodnight for me as well!"
Charlotte tilted her head as Nicole left and then shrugged. She returned to the berthing quarters, approached the girls, and told them all the news. Jacqueline let out a silent sigh of relief, which nobody noticed, and Louise translated for Pocahontas.
"That's strange," Pocahontas remarked, mindlessly toying with her necklace. "He always helps me to bed. Oh but I'm glad she found Meeko and the others. I was worried."
"Monsieur Rolfe was probably just really tired after doing all that work," Jacqueline said, wiping sweat from her brow. "It looked exhausting! I'm sure everything's alright."
Louise translated Jacqueline's words and Pocahontas shrugged, yawning. "I suppose so. I better get to bed myself," she declared, reaching both arms upwards into a big stretch.
"I'll help you," Louise offered. She saw Pocahontas to her cabin and then retired herself.
…
OCTOBER 2, 1613
Captain Flame's crew rose at dawn to find five of their men missing. Spike-Eyes, the dog Françoise, and a few other men were sent to search. As the sky lightened, the bosun identified what looked like blood on the sand in several places around the camp and trails leading down to the beach where it looked like bodies had been dragged. When the bosun made this known to Flame, the captain called back the crew and they followed the trails down to the water where they disappeared into the surf. "What on earth?!" Captain Flame blared, stumped and furious all at the same time. "Did some predatory merfolk come on land to take 'em? I always thought such things were but myth," he blared.
"Do merfolk wear boots when they come on land?" Patch Fiddick inquired, pointing out the prints in the sand that accompanied the trails. "Them's look like bootprints."
The men stared at the scene in confusion. Before long, another tidbit of evidence came to light. "Captain, one of our rafts is missing!" Spike-Eyes shouted from the beach, waving to get the crew's attention. Flame sprinted over as fast as he could and found another trail where the vessel had been dragged to the water. There were more matching bootprints.
"Perhaps vicious sea dwellers had nothing to do with it," Flame considered, scratching his chin. "Hurry, men! If we set off now, we just might catch up to the perpetrator."
The men packed up their supplies. Due to the loss of five individuals, the crew managed to crowd onto the remaining rafts and did not have to waste time building another. The captain was immensely frustrated but he was too entrenched in the mystery of the missing men to lash out. The bosun thought it was very unsettling to see Captain Flame brooding darkly at the front end of a raft as the other men rowed along behind him.
Before long, they happened upon another discover that only raised more questions. The thick mangroves and palm trees along the shoreline appeared to have been torn apart as if by some massive storm. The foliage was shredded. Dozens of trees had crashed to the beach. The devastation continued as they rowed along with no end in sight. Meanwhile, the men whispered among themselves. Rumors of angry spirits and treachery abounded.
The Florida sun was approaching midday when the crew came upon something that caught their attention. It appeared to be a burnt out pile of sticks lying on the beach at first. At Flame's command, the rafts paddled to shore to investigate. The bosun was the first to identify it as the missing raft. It took some digging, but charred human remains were found among the debris. Flame addressed the crew. "My good fellows, methinks it was blood-thirsty savages responsible. It is not unheard of for savages to wear boots of their own making. Resourceful little devils, they are," he declared. "From now on, someone will have to stay awake whilst the others sleep at night. We can prevent this from happening to the rest of us if we're watchful." The crewmen again whispered among themselves fearfully as Flame ordered them back into the rafts.
The Irishman grew concerned about the nature of some of the rumors as they continued their journey. However, he was too worried about other concerns to give them his full consideration. The crew was running out of food and he doubted hunting alone would provide enough for all the men. Some other solution had to be found and Flame spent the next few hours considering the problem. The only possible answer he could come up with was to raid a village. But how much time would that take away from the pursuit?
With any luck, they might find evidence of natives as they traveled north. Captain Flame went about the duty of observing the shores with his telescope as the rafts rowed along, observing the bright blue skyline over the land for any evidence of fire or smoke signals.
…
Contrary to the girls' expectations, John Rolfe did not appear bright and early the next morning. Madeleine was the first to wake and rouse everyone from slumber. When Nicole opened her eyes, she scrambled out of bed and ran up to the deck. Several girls were already up and about, unfurling the sails and raising the anchor. The blonde's eyes zipped to the door of Pocahontas's cabin. Louise was there already, knocking. "Good morning, princess," she softly greeted, cracking the door open to poke her head in.
Nicole panicked. Then Jacqueline appeared on deck, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The girl yawned and stretched. Nicole dashed over to her and hurriedly whispered, "Take the helm at once and, if Pocahontas tries to go to John Rolfe's cabin, distract her!"
Jacqueline jumped. "I-is everything okay?" she sputtered. Nicole grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her up the stairs to the helm. To Nicole's relief, no one was there yet.
"Has anyone seen Monsieur Rolfe? Has he not risen yet?!" Denise called out in curiosity.
Nicole deposited Jacqueline at the wheel and flashed a flustered smile to the crew. "I'll check on him!" she announced. "I'm sure he's just tired from the work he did yesterday. Go ahead and continue preparing the ship, ladies! Jacqueline can steer the first shift."
Denise and the others nodded to Nicole, soon returning to their duties. Nicole turned her attention to John Rolfe's cabin. After tiptoeing inside, she shut the door behind her and locked it. Delighted with how well her plan was going, she turned her attention to the man lying on the bed in the exact same position she had left him in the night before.
Nicole first checked his breathing, finding it still shallow but present. She sighed in relief and sat on the bedside, twirling his auburn fringe around one of her fingers playfully. The blonde nipped her bottom lip. "Time to wake up and greet the new day," she said, shaking him gently. No response. She frowned and shook him harder. Not even an eyelid flutter. A spike of fear in her heart told her he might be in a coma. Oh no! she thought.
She jumped up and rushed to the captain's desk, scouring it for something. When she opened the bottom right drawer, she found a full flask of water. She sprinkled some on John Rolfe's face, crossing her fingers that the ploy would work. Again, nothing. She squeezed her eyes shut in anguish and shook her head. No! she insisted. He's fine. A strong man can take a hit from a woman. He's a strong man, I know he is! She sighed in frustration and dumped the contents of the flask over the diplomat's head.
John Rolfe shot up from the bed with a loud yelp, sneezing and coughing out some of the water. He brought a hand to his injured head, squeezing his eyes tight in pain. Hearing him moan in agony, Nicole frowned. "What's wrong, dear? Are you sick?" she inquired, pressing the back of her hand to his wet forehead. "Oh my, you're hot!" she lied.
"I… I don'…" John Rolfe began, hacking up some more of the water that had dribbled into his windpipe. "Wh-where ab I?" he sputtered. He shivered from the wetness and pushed his legs over the side of the bed, resting his feet on the floor as he tried to get up.
"No, sir! If you're sick, you should be resting," Nicole commanded, pushing him back. The diplomat grimaced and started feeling around his head, wincing when he came upon the injured spot. Nicole pulled his hand away. "No, no. You must try to relax. I'll get you some soup and something cool to drink. That should help revive you," she offered.
John Rolfe coughed again and sneezed. Nicole left and returned with a tray bearing a bowl of broth and a mug of water, having dodged the crew's questions along the way. When she got back, Rolfe was sitting up and feeling around the back of his head. "What did I tell you about sitting up? Lie down now. You'll hurt yourself," she decreed. Nicole set the tray on the desk and pulled his hands away from his head, pushing him down.
But John Rolfe resisted. "No! It hurs wit' my head on the pillow. Where's Madeleine? I need a doctor… or… Where is Pocahonnas?" he grated, making little sense to himself.
Nicole sighed at his stubbornness. "What do you remember?" she inquired, moving the tray to his lap to prevent him from rising. "Here, try to drink some water."
"Rememmer?" John Rolfe clumsily repeated, peering up through squinting eyes. The blinding sunlight from a nearby hatch window was pure torture to his fragile senses.
Nicole brought the mug to his lips. "Yes, what do you remember about Madeleine… and Pocahontas?" Then she dared to venture further, "Who do you love, John?"
"Who do I…?" John Rolfe mumbled, totally disoriented. His eyes barely half-lidded, the very flustered Englishman knitted his brows in irritation. "Stop aski'g me thin's! It makes my head hurt!" he snapped, pushing the mug away from his face. He removed the tray as well from his lap and put it down on the bed beside him. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he leaned heavily on the wall for support as he groped around for the cabin door.
"What did I tell you about getting up?" Nicole objected, slamming the mug down on the writing desk in anger. "And mind your manners!" She took him by the arm but he turned and pushed her away with enough strength to send her stumbling backward.
"You mine your damn manners!" John Rolfe hoarsely roared. "I'b in pain! Where are Pocahonnas and Mad'leine? I need theb." His floundering hand found the doorknob and tried to turn it, finding it locked. He groped for the lock and unlocked the door before throwing it open. Rolfe cried out in agony as the sunlight hit full force. A hand rose to cover his eyes. Clinging to the wall and then the railing, he staggered out onto the deck.
Marie-Claude had taken over the helm at that point and she gasped at the sight of him. "Monsieur Rolfe, are you okay?!" she exclaimed in alarm, reaching out toward him.
The unbalanced man tripped over his own feet, falling heavily to his knees. He cried out in pain, "Help! I need help!" The Englishman clambered for the stairs leading down to the lower deck. When he found them, he started to scoot down one step at a time on his rump. "Need… Pocahonnas," he slurred nonsensically. "Where is she?"
While Marie-Claude could not leave the helm, she whistled loudly to get Madeleine's attention. "Maddie, we need you! Something is wrong with our captain! He is hurt!"
Pocahontas was chatting with Jacqueline and Louise on lower deck when all three of them overheard the ruckus. Pocahontas glanced up and spotted him, unable to believe her eyes at first. "John?" the Powhatan princess uttered, shocked at the sight of him. She knew something had to be wrong if he was crawling down the stairs. John Rolfe had nearly reached the bottom step by the time she made it halfway to him with her crutches.
"I need Pocahonnas!" John Rolfe yelled out. He groped around and then collapsed on the bottom step of the helm's left stairwell, holding his head from the excruciating pain.
Pocahontas's heart quickened. "John!" she screamed, quickening her pace. The young woman dropped both of her crutches simultaneously and hopped over on one foot. When she reached him, she sat down on the step beside him. "I'm right here. What in the world happened to you? Are you sick? Are you injured? What is wrong with your legs? Do you have a headache?" she interrogated in alarm. "Can you understand me, John?"
"My head hurts," John Rolfe said. "Is unbearable! How mush wine did I drink las' night?" He winced as Pocahontas took his head in her hands and gently started feeling around. Her touch was light as a feather but it still pained him. "It hurs!"
"Your hair is wet," Pocahontas noted, shaking her head as she withdrew her hands. "I only remember you having a glass of wine at dinner. You're not a heavy drinker," she replied, baffled by the state he was in. "And then someone told me you had gone to bed."
John Rolfe whimpered. "I don' remember going to bed."
Madeleine and Louise rushed over, the latter picking up Pocahontas's dropped crutches on the way. "What's happened?!" Louise spouted, handing the crutches to Pocahontas.
"John's head is hurt," Pocahontas told her. "Quick, help me get him back to his cabin. We can take better care of him there. Come, John. Lean on these two for support."
Pocahontas took her crutches and tossed them to upper deck. She crab-walked backward up the stairs, rising to her feet with the help of the banister, and recovered her crutches. Madeleine and Louise helped John Rolfe to his feet and accompanied him up the stairs to the captain's quarters. When they reached the bed, he doubled over from nausea. Louise kicked a bucket to him just in time. With his legs folded under him, he dry heaved into the bucket several times before anything came out. Pocahontas gasped and pulled his hair out of his face as he retched up nothing more than green bile into the empty pail.
Pocahontas turned her head away to spare the poor man his dignity. Still holding his hair, she clumsily lowered herself to sit next to the pillow. "Sit him down right here," she instructed, patting the spot to her left on the bed. They did so carefully. Madeleine moved to the desk to find a cloth. She returned and wiped John Rolfe's mouth as he muttered a weak thank you in French. Pocahontas brushed his wet cowlick aside and put a hand to his forehead. "He doesn't seem to have a fever. I wonder if…" she began, facing Rolfe. "Hey John, what's troubling you the most? Does your belly hurt?" she asked.
John Rolfe tried to shake his head but winced in pain. "N-no. Is my head. I feel like I've cracked my skull in twain," he slurred in a low voice, gulping. "Lord above, either make it stop or kill me now," he pleaded, bending forward as he held his head with his hands.
Pocahontas started gently feeling around his scalp again. When he yelped, she knew she had found the right spot. It was a massive throbbing lump on the back of his head. "Sorry, John! I'll try to be careful. It looks like you hit your head somehow. I need to inspect it." She pulled out his disheveled ponytail carefully and tried to maneuver the wet strands aside to reveal the lump. "Louise, bring that lantern closer. Thank you." Pocahontas squinted her eyes as she examined the injury and then gasped. "There's dried blood in his hair!" she declared, looking closer. "I see a cut. It's scabbed over, but it was definitely bleeding before," she added, pointing to the spot as Madeleine leaned in to take a peek. The area of scalp was black and blue. Madeleine thought she spotted something and squinted her eyes. She gingerly reached in with her long fingernails and plucked a tiny shard of green glass out that had been embedded in John Rolfe's bruised scalp.
The suffering man cried out. Pocahontas held onto him as all three ladies inspected the offending item. Louise's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's glass!" she blurted in French. She glanced over to Pocahontas and repeated what she had said in English.
The women looked at each other, baffled and alarmed. Pocahontas shook her head to clear out her thoughts and pulled a stool over to sit on, scooting off the bed. "Come, John. Lie down on your side so you don't put pressure on the bruise," she gently advised. She grabbed the pillow to fluff it up for him but found it to be wet. "What in the…? This pillow is wet like John's hair." She brought the pillow to her nose and sniffed the moist part. Something about the situation had made her concerned that John Rolfe had somehow managed to urinate on his own head, not that she knew how he could have possibly achieved such a feat. Fortunately, the pillow was odorless. She felt around the bedsheets, but they were dry. "I think it's just water. John, do you remember how you got wet?" Pocahontas inquired, lifting his face so she could look him in the eye.
"No, I don'," he weakly replied.
Pocahontas glanced at Madeleine and Louise. "Find him a dry pillow, please," she said politely, tossing the wet one to the desk to dry. "Actually, two would be best." Louise found the linens in the supply closet and handed over the requested items.
Pocahontas fluffed them and put them at the head of the bed. Madeleine said something in French, gesturing to her own head. Louise translated, "Maddie says Monsieur Rolfe might have a concussion. She has had some experience with concussed patients."
"So she knows how to treat it?" Pocahontas inquired hopefully, helping John Rolfe ease onto his side. He groaned in pain until he was settled. Then he relaxed. Louise nodded and Pocahontas let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness! I'll have to put her on duty watching over John. I…" She paused, glancing around the room. "Wait a minute. Where are Meeko, Percy, and Flit?" she uttered, rising on her good foot. She leaned on the wall, feeling panicked. "Meeko!" she called out. "Flit!" No response. The cabin was silent save for the four human occupants. "Charlotte told us they slept with John last night. If they had been here, they would've seen what happened to him and come to get me."
"Huh?" John Rolfe murmured, her words making little sense to him.
Pocahontas bit her lip in dread. "I must find them right away. Louise, tell Madeleine to stay with John and tend to his injury. I'll be back to check on things very soon, I promise. Come with me?" she asked. Louise nodded and told Madeleine, who gave her assent. Louise rose and held the door open for Pocahontas to limp out. Meanwhile, Madeleine took her place on the stool by John Rolfe's side. "Meeko? Flit?!" Pocahontas called out over the whole deck. Her eyes darted around frantically as she made her way down the stairs with Louise's help. Perhaps the animals were in the galley getting something to eat. The thought only soothed Pocahontas's acute anxiety a little. She started to head down to the lower level of the ship but was soon stopped by a smiling Jacqueline.
"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Pocahontas," the young girl greeted with a curtsy.
"Oh! Hello, my friend," Pocahontas replied. She shot a glance to Louise. "Can you ask Jacqueline if she's seen Meeko, Percy, and Flit?" she hurriedly requested.
Louise nodded and translated the inquiry for Jacqueline. The latter answered in French. Louise faced Pocahontas. "She says she saw them thirty minutes ago in the galley eating cookies but she passed by again just now and they had wandered off," she said.
Contrary to Jacqueline's intent, the information only increased Pocahontas's anxieties. "This is very strange!" she cried, bringing quivery fingers to her mouth. "They have never avoided me for so long before. What the spirits is happening on this ship?!"
"Pocahontas, I am sure there must be good reason," Louise speculated, placing a hand on her shoulder to help soothe her worries. "We will find them soon. Come, let's go look."
Pocahontas nodded fervently, gently pushing past Jacqueline. "Pardon me. I'm sorry," she politely uttered. Louise followed quickly as they descended into the belly of the ship.
Jacqueline peered down after them and bit her bottom lip in unease. She immediately went to search for Nicole. It was not long before Jacqueline found her friend at the wheel. Nicole had relieved Marie-Claude from steering duty so that she could guard the door to Rolfe's cabin. "Pocahontas and Louise are searching for the animals," Jacqueline quickly reported after clambering up the stairs to the helm. "What should we do?"
"What?!" Nicole spouted.
"I tried to lie about seeing them but the Indian is still concerned. Are they well-hidden?" Jacqueline inquired, tapping her heels. God forbid their plot should be discovered.
Nicole opened her mouth to reply just as a roll of ear-shattering thunder struck, conjuring a series of startled screams from the crewwomen on deck. The girls all stopped what they were doing and turned their attention south in apprehension. Very dark storm clouds were approaching them at a frightful speed. Just minutes ago, the sky had been clear and sunny as far as the eye could see. "Where is Captain John Rolfe?!" Lorraine cried in alarm, eyes darting around. "There is a great storm coming! What do we do?! It looks bad!"