"Monsieur Casteene then fled to the Indians," Smith went on. "He lives among them, and hath taken to wife an Indian woman — "
"Two Indian women, Father Smith: 'tis a sin God will forgive, in return for the massacre of Schenectady."
"I had heard you were on Colonel Hermann's manor in Cecil County," said the priest. "Is't possible Colonel Hermann too is more than just Lord Baltimore's man?"
"With faith all things are possible; at least he denied my presence, and disclaimed any knowledge of the Naked Indians."
"Then thou'rt traitors, the pair of you!" cried Ebenezer. "Thou'rt a traitor," he said specifically to his companion, "and I took you to be my dear friend Burlingame! How much doth this discrepancy explain!"
The man with the knife laughed a brief, derisive laugh and held out his hand to Father Smith for the Journal. "Permettez-moi regarder ce livre merveilleux pour lequel j'ai risqué ma vie."
The priest gave it to him eagerly, whereupon, without hesitation, Burlingame struck him such a blow upon the back of his neck that he fell senseless to the floor.
"I had not thought him such a fool. Find rope to bind him with, Eben, and we shall see what have we here ere we retire."
25: Further Passages from Captain John Smith's Secret Historie of the Voiage Up the Bay of Chesapeake: Dorchester Discovered, and How the Captain First Set Foot Upon It
"Come, bind him up," Burlingame repeated, spreading the Journal open on the table. "Already he hath commenced to stir." But seeing that Ebenezer was still too disorganized to act, he fetched some rope himself and bound the priest's hands and feet. "At least help me lift him into a chair!"
Reviving, Father Smith winced and blinked, and then stared sullenly at the Journal. He found his voice before the poet did.
"Who are you, then — John Coode?"
Burlingame laughed. "Only Tim Mitchell, as I said at the outset, and a loyal friend of Baltimore, if not King Louis and the Pope. Thou'rt a stiff neck poorer for your lack of faith, my friend." To Ebenezer, whose turbulent features betrayed his lingering doubts, he explained further that rumors had been rife in Maryland since 1692 of the legendary Monsieur Casteene's presence near the Pennsylvania border. Colonel Augustine Hermann of Bohemia Manor in Cecil County had denied the presence of both Casteene and the so-called Stabbernowles, or "Naked Indians" of the north, but so great was the fear of general massacre at the hands of the French and the Indians — especially in the light of Maryland and Virginia's persistent refusal to aid the beleaguered Governor Fletcher of New York and the mutual distrust among all the provincial governments — that the rumors still persisted, and the most bizarre details of the Casteene legend, such as that of the scarified monogram on his chest, were widely believed. "I scratched those letters with my dirk this evening in Oxford," he concluded, displaying them again in the candlelight. "See how fresh they are? 'Twas a card I'd not have played in the light of day!"
Ebenezer sat weakly in a chair. "B'm'faith, how you alarmed me! I know you not from one hour to the next!"
"Nor should you try. Pour out a round of this admirable wine and reflect on what I told you at the inn some hours ago." He clapped the priest on the shoulder. " 'Tis an ungrateful guest that binds his host to a chair for the night, but there's naught for't. Besides, 'tis for that cause wherefore you'd die, and not by half so sore a martyrdom as gelding — n'est-ce pas?" He laughed at the priest's expression of disgust, and when the wine was poured, the guests commenced to read together the verso (which was in fact the original recto) of their prize:
Having receiv'd such cordiall use [so this fragment of the Historie began] at the hand of those Salvages at Accomack & those at the River of Wighcocomoco, we set out againe for the maine. .
"That is the town of Hicktopeake he refers to," Ebenezer volunteered, though in truth he was entertaining such a mixture of feelings towards his former tutor that he spoke only out of a sort of shyness. "The Laughing King of whom I told you. The other Indians I know naught of."
"There are two rivers called Wicomico in Maryland," Burlingame said thoughtfully. "One near St. Mary's County on the Western Shore and one below Dorchester County. Methinks 'tis the later he intends, if he coasted up the Bay from Accomac."
. .but for want of fresh water, in two daies had perforce to seeke out land, that we might replenishe our supplie. We found some Isles, all uninhabited & many in number, falling with a high land upon the maine.
"Haply 'twas the Calvert cliffs he chanced on," Ebenezer suggested, recalling his Island of the Seven Cities. "Let's read on."
Upon waving and going ashoar, we chanc'd on a pond of fresh water, but wch was surpassing warme. Howbeit, we were so verie thirstie, that maugre my counsell to the contrarie, to witt, that the water was doubtlesse fowle, naught wd doe but my companie must fille there barricoes withal, & drinke therefrom, till that there verie gutts did slushe about. This they learn'd to regrett, but of that, more anon.
From Wighcocomoco to this place, all the coast is but low broken Isles of Moras, a myle or two in breadth, & tenne or twelve in length, & foule and stinking by reason of the stagnant waters therein. Add to wch, the aire is beclowded with vile meskitoes, that sucke at a mans bloud, as though they had never eate before. It is forsooth no countrie, for any save the Salvage. .
"That picture doth apply to one place only," laughed Burlingame, who had read the passage aloud. "Do you know it, Father?"
And the priest, his historical curiosity aroused despite his circumstances, nodded stiffly: "The Dorset marches."
"Aye," Burlingame confirmed. "The Hooper Islands, Bloodsworth Island, and South Marsh. There is a morsel for your epic, Ebenezer: the first white man to set foot on Dorset County."
Ebenezer made perfunctory acknowledgment, but pointed out that as yet the Captain had not gone ashore and perhaps would pass the county by. He showed less petulance in his reply to the priest, who professed great interest in the document and chagrin at having been thitherto unaware of its existence, and for his sake read the remainder of it aloud.
"Being thus refresh'd, despite my warnings, in moving over to other Isles, we incounter'd the winde & waters so much increas'd with thunder, lightning, & raine, that for all my souldiers & my selfe reef'd & belay'd the sayles & lines, our mast & sayle went by the board. Such mightie waves overrack'd us in that smalle barge, that with great persuasions I induc'd our Gentlemen to occupie them selves with freeing out the water, in their halts, for that else we had fownder'd & sunke. We anchor'd, being not neare any place that promis'd safe harbour, and there we sat a miserable two daies, while the gusts did blowe, with little to nourish our selves withal, save the vile water in the barricoes.
"This same water, the wch my men had taken against my warning, prov'd to be foule indeed, for that upon slaking therewith there thirst, all the companie did growe wondrous grip'd of there bowells, and loose of there bladders, & took a weakness of there reins, so that they still had need of making water, & of voiding their severall bummes. Little my men did all the day long, & the night, while that we rode thus at anchor, but besmirch them selves. At length, the wether being warm, if squallie, I did order one & all to divest them selves of there breeches, the wch were beshitt past rescue, and cast them to the fishes. This they all did, but with much compleynt, most markedlie from my rivall Burlingame, who looses no opening to sowe the seedes of discontent & faction."