Serpent Never Sleeps

  We climbed the steep ladder to the sterncastle, to the gilded door of the Great Cabin, and went into a paneled room of carved beams and Persian rugs. Admiral Somers sat at a desk under the stern window, where he had a view of the eight ships sailing along behind us. He was stout and pink-cheeked, and he spoke briskly.

  "When last did you see His Majesty?" he asked me.

  "Less than two weeks ago, sir, at Foxcroft where I live."

  "I trust he was in good health."

  "Excellent health, sir. And he's very active in hunting."

  Admiral Somers appraised me with a glance. I was wearing my best dress—a trim, white ruff with a sky-blue skirt open down the front to reveal a crocus-colored petticoat. It was a pretty dress. Anthony liked it and had complimented me on it.

  "Where do you sleep, young lady?" he asked.

  "Below in the rear," I replied, then stopped. Tired of lubberly talk, Anthony had told me that what I called the front of the ship was not the front, but the bow, and the rear was not the rear, but the stern. I corrected myself, which pleased the admiral, and said, "Below in the stern, sir, next to the rudder."

  "Are you comfortable there?"

  "No, sir. I am very uncomfortable. I am also worried. I have another friend, one besides King James. His name is Anthony Foxcroft and he has disappeared. I haven't seen him since yesterday evening. Where could he be?"

  The admiral stiffened in his chair. "He's locked away. The king has sent for him. Something about a murder."

  "It wasn't a murder," I said. "I was there and saw it."

  "Saw what?"

  I took my time and told him exactly what I had seen, how the quarrel had begun and how it had ended. "It was Robert Carr's fault," I said. "And I am sure that the king didn't send for Anthony. Rather, it was Carr who sent for him—Robert Carr, his present favorite."

  The admiral looked at the carved figures on the ceiling, at the ships in our wake, everywhere but at me.

  "Anthony hasn't been seen since yesterday," I said. "Where is he? I must know, sir."

  The admiral pointed to a small door in the paneled wall. It led, I discovered later, to a cubbyhole near the rudder, reached by the Great Cabin.

  Admiral Somers smiled. "I have a surprise for you," he said, and he called an aide who showed me a cabin in an adjoining passageway.

  "Do you like your new quarters?" he asked when I came back. "It's small but well appointed."

  "Oh, yes. Very much."

  The next morning I found my way through the small door Admiral Somers had pointed out to the cubbyhole near the rudder, where Anthony was locked behind a door with a small iron grill. It was too high for me to see through, and the noise of the rudder and the swishing seas was so loud that I had to shout Anthony's name three times before he heard me.

  "I've talked to Admiral Somers," I shouted to him.

  "What did he say?" Anthony shouted back.

  "Nothing. But I'll talk to him again."

  "Do. 'Tis an awful place they have here. I can barely turn around."

  "I'll talk to Admiral Somers today."

  "Good."

  And that was all we said to each other.

  I talked to Admiral Somers that day, but he was pleasantly evasive, more concerned about me than he was about Anthony. Once more he asked if I liked my cabin.

  "Oh, yes, very much, sir," I replied, as I had the day before when he had asked me the same question.

  And I did like it. It had a hammock, two leather buckets, and a small window. Besides, it was high above the commotion below—squealing pigs, neighing horses, and the incessant chatter of more than a hundred settlers cooped up like so many chickens.

  I saw many things from my window during those bitter times when I was allowed to see Anthony only a few minutes of each day. Out of Falmouth, seas began to run. The captain of our ship, Christopher Newport, was forced to cut the rope fastened to the Virginia, the pinnace we were towing. I watched her turn about in the towering waves and head back to England.

  Days later, early in the morning, I heard the gun-ports clang open, and I saw through the window two strange ships on the horizon. Word came from Captain Newport that they were Spanish privateers. If they sailed toward us, the ship's bell would ring three times, a signal for all the women to gather below decks. But the bells didn't ring. The privateers had compared their strength to ours.

  On the thirty-first day, under a scorching sun, word came that plague had broken out in the Lion and the Blessing, two of the ships sailing in our wake. I saw bodies, wrapped in canvas, dropped into the sea. Rumor was that thirty-two had died during the hot weather, nearly half of them women and children.

  The weather grew mild, the waves glassy as they followed us along. We were now well past the bulge of Africa and the Canary Islands, on the same route Christopher Columbus had taken more than a hundred years before, under the same sun and stars, driven by the same gentle winds.

  It was the first time since we left Falmouth that the settlers were happy. Evenings they gathered on the main deck (the waist, as it was called), sang songs of home, and danced to flutes and drums. One night John Fitzhugh, Carr's man, recited a love poem he had written. I had avoided him throughout the voyage, and I did then as he received the plaudits of the crowd and came lumbering up—he was the size of a stump—to receive mine.

  The mild weather did not last. Captain Newport changed course and we sailed north by west. The winds were confused, now blowing from the south, now from the east, at times not blowing at all. The sun was hot, but at night we saw no stars in the heavens. The sailors went about the deck, closing the open hatches, battening them down with canvas to keep out running waves. We were told by Captain Newport to see that all our possessions were well fastened.

  The Reverend Bucke preached sermons every morning and night. On the twenty-third of July, after a starless night, the wind dying to a whisper, he preached at noon. Standing against the mizzenmast with everyone gathered around him, he mopped his brow and offered the following prayer:

  O Eternal God, who alone spreadest out the heavens and rulest the raging of the sea, we commend to Thy almighty protection Thy servants for whose preservation on the great deep our prayers are desired. Guard them, we beseech Thee, from the dangers of the sea and conduct them in safety to their haven in the New World.

  With fearful thoughts people gazed at the yellow sky, at the sea, which was smooth as a woodland pond, at the sails hanging limp in the quiet air. But every one of us, I do believe, welcomed a change in the weather, even a storm.

  After sixty long days under a scorching sun, the drinking water turned brackish. The sea biscuits, one of our staple foods, had gathered weevils. Half of the turnips, another of our staples, shriveled, and the rest went rotten. The whole ship stank. Noisome privies, rancid food, smoke from the rushlights, the smell of unwashed bodies, all combined in one powerful stench that clogged the nostrils and assailed the stomach.

  In the silence that followed the Reverend Richard Bucke's prayer, I climbed the ladder and spoke to Admiral Somers.

  "When the storm comes," I said, "please do not forget that Anthony Foxcroft is locked away in a cubbyhole."

  "The safest place," the admiral said. "The very best. Foxcroft will be the last to drown."

  This was gallows humor. The admiral couldn't be serious, but still it angered me. "King James is a friend of Countess Diana," I said. "He would never arrest her son for something that wasn't his fault. It's Robert Carr's arrogance, as I have said before and say again. 'Tis silly to keep Anthony confined. Where would he go if you unlocked him? Would he leave the ship and walk away?"

  "You might speak to Governor Gates," the admiral said to be rid of me. Sir Thomas Gates was the appointed governor of Virginia. He had quarters in the sterncastle. He kept to himself and I had seen him only from a distance.

  "I am in command of the fleet," the admiral continued, "but once we reach Virginia, which we shall do quite soon, the governor is in charge. Talk to
him, Miss Lynn."

  "I shall, at once." But the words were scarcely spoken when a shrieking wind fell upon the ship. I was thrown to the deck and lay there half-stunned. Yet I had enough wits about me to close my hand, to clench it tight upon the king's ring, lest it be ripped from my finger. The sterncastle door flew open, and a woman took hold of my hand and dragged me to safety. She noticed the ring.

  "How did you come by it?" she asked. "Did you steal it in the dark of the moon?"

  "'Tis a gift from the king."

  "Unlikely, yet the king is a generous man. My mistress owned such a ring. She found it an antidote for the dangers of this world. I trust that you have found it such."

  "I have."

  "And will continue to do so, though the ship sinks and everyone drowns, save you?"

  I did not answer. In the light from a lamp swinging in gimbals, I saw a tall, bleak-looking woman of middle age with stringy hair and a long, thin nose that nearly met her chin—a child's version of a witch.

  "I fear that the ship is doomed," she said. "What a tragedy that will be. The admiral of the fleet and the new governor of Virginia, both these splendid men chosen to look after us in the New World, both are here, cooped up in the Sea Venture. It is a bad beginning, something tells me."

  With her long white fingers, she made a sign and raised her eyes to heaven.

  "When were you born?" she asked.

  "The twenty-third day of May in the year 1593."

  "Which makes you a Gemini. Born at what hour?"

  "I don't know."

  "Probably at dusk, under the evening star. What's your name, young miss?"

  "Serena Lynn."

  "Poetic. Mine is Emma Swinton, which isn't such. I would not have selected it had I been asked. Names can rule your life."

  The ship pitched to the fury of a south wind, but the lamp rested steady in its gimbals.

  "You have recovered from your blow?" Emma Swinton asked.

  "Almost, thank you."

  "Is there something I can do for you?" she said at the door, ducking her head to keep from striking the oaken beams. "Are you comfortable here? Do you want for anything? I am on my way to read the stars for Governor Gates, who is a true believer in the science. I can say a word or two in your behalf." She looked down at me with a motherly eye.

  I sat up straight in my bunk and grasped her hand. "Say to him that Anthony Foxcroft is not guilty of murder. 'Tis an awful mistake to hold him in durance."

  "More than a mistake," Emma Swinton said. "It is most heartbreaking for you."

  NINE

  Tumult increased through the day, and day became a starless night, as if Jonas himself were flying through Tarshish. Lightning flashed, then night became day again.

  Through my window I saw nothing but raging water. The Virginia had turned back to England days before, and the ships that had followed us so faithfully all the way from Plymouth were gone.

  At dawn word came that sometime in the night the ship had begun to leak. Water stood knee-deep in the bilge. Alarms sounded and the ship's roster was divided into three shifts and sent below to work at the pumps. Even Mistress Horton, her maid, and some of the common women were assigned shifts.

  Anthony was still locked away. Before I took my turn at the pumps, I hurried down to see him.

  The bars were so close together that I couldn't reach through them. The air was so befouled that I could scarcely breathe. The shrieking of the wind, the pounding of the waves, the banging of the rudder as it swung back and forth, made it impossible to hear.

  I shouted that I was doing my best to free him. He shouted something back and made a gesture that I could not understand. Was it indifference or the opposite? I smiled and he smiled back. The alarm sounded again. I sent him a kiss and tore myself away.

  Most of the men and half of the women were below by now. Only a group of gentlemen, who had never worked a day in their lives, stayed on deck. Admiral Somers coaxed them below by going down himself and taking a pump handle.

  We took turns working at the three pumps, pumping one hour at a time, resting an hour, thousands of strokes in each watch. The rest of the company filled kettles, carried them aloft, and dumped the water into the sea.

  Before noon the pump I was using clogged up. Water had broken into the stores, and sea biscuits were floating around the hold. A handful had been sucked up by the pump.

  While it was being cleaned, I was given the task of gathering baskets of the soggy biscuits. The two other pumps got clogged and had to be taken apart; yet during the day we rid the ship of more than thirty tons of water.

  It was not enough. The sea still poured in.

  That night our watch was sent below again. My hands were blistered and bleeding from handling the pump, so I was given a rushlight and told to search out the leak.

  Twenty of us—Mistress Horton's maid, three girls I had never seen, the boatswain, coopers, and carpenters—waded in water up to our knees, up to our necks when the ship rolled, moving from bow to stern, peering at every plank we could reach, stumbling along in the darkness lit only by our candles, while the three pumps clattered and the waves pounded the ship like a drum.

  We searched until noon and found neither holes nor split planks, but only a seam, no longer than my arm, where the caulking was pushed in.

  The carpenters set to work on it. For some reason they were out of oakum and had to use substitutes—strips of dried beef, pieces of bedding, and torn dresses. But everything they stuffed in the crack came out.

  At nightfall the wind died away. The Reverend Bucke prayed and everyone felt better, thinking that the storm had come to an end. But soon after the ship's bell had rung for the midnight watch, as I lay awake in pain from my blistered hands, I heard scurrying footsteps.

  I got up and went down the passage to the sterncastle. Sailors were on deck furling all the sails they had run up at dusk except a small one in the bow, which was used to steady the ship. I wondered that they were taking in the sails, for there was no wind and the sea was calm.

  I was aware of a light on the mainmast, on its very tip where no light could possibly be. It looked like a small, trembling star.

  Someone on the deck below called out, "St. Elmo's fire."

  "St. Elmo?" I called back. "Who is that?"

  "All I know about is the fire. If you see fire like that it means a storm's coming."

  "The storm has come already."

  "A bigger storm will come, maybe a hurricane."

  While we talked, the star sparkling in the masthead became two stars.

  "If the lights move down the rigging, it means fair weather," the man said. "If they go up, it means foul weather."

  As we talked, the two stars flew to the foremast and sat there, giving off a spectral glow. Then they flew from mast to mast, then hovered above us like two frightened birds.

  "A bad sign," the man said. "I have seen it before. I am the only one saved from the bark Louisa. Dad and I were homeward bound when we hit a noisome gale. We saw the fire playing about the rigging just like that. My dad said, 'If we get out of here, I don't want you sailing in the bark again.' When I got back to Plymouth I took my pay and left. My father signed because he was the mate. And she went down the very next time, with all hands. So I am the only man preserved from the Louisa."

  The man disappeared. As I went back along the passageway, I had trouble walking. The ship had taken on more water, though the pumps were still being manned.

  Just before dawn I was awakened by a cannon shot. The ship was no longer sailing. She was being driven by the wind, from one side, then to the other, to the north, to the east, to the west. At times it seemed as if she were moving in circles, yet always with a dangerous slant.

  To put the ship on an even keel, Captain Newport gave orders to clear out everything on her starboard side. Sailors brought up hogsheads of oil, barrels of vinegar, trunks and chests belonging to the settlers, and threw them into the sea. Mistress Horton lost two trunks and three
chests. Since my cabin was at the center of the ship I lost none of my few possessions.

  All through that day waves swept over the bow, flooding the deck, crashing against the heavy doors of the sterncastle. The long arm of the steering rudder, which in calm weather was managed by one man, now required the strength of six.

  For fear of being swept away, the settlers huddled below. Captain Newport sent me down to help the women with children. He had ordered all the pumps stopped, since they were useless. There was meat, but no fire in the cookroom to prepare it. Water stood deep in the bilge, high above the ballast. Swarms of rats swam about, trying to flee the hold.

  Toward evening, one of the women went out of her head. "We're going to drown," she screamed. "So let us close the hatches and give ourselves to God."

  "Yes, to merciful God," another woman screamed.

  "Amen," a man said, and started for the ladder.

  I edged past him, climbed on deck, and made my way to the sterncastle. Admiral Somers and Sir Thomas Gates were arguing. They were always arguing about something: Who was in charge of the ship, the admiral of the fleet or the governor of Virginia? Where were we in the endless sea? How many days from land? From Jamestown? From anywhere?

  Captain Newport was on watch. He had watched night and day since the storm struck up, though now there was little to watch. He was busy talking to a sailor. I waited.

  "We are lighter to starboard with half the cargo gone," he said.

  "Not light enough. We should cut the top mast and heave it over," the sailor replied.

  "Let's wait for the night. The seas may moderate," Captain Newport said.

  Admiral Somers spoke up. "If night ever comes."

  "Poor talk," Sir Thomas Gates said. "We've not sailed this far to give up now."

  "We're not giving up," the admiral said. "It's the ship that's giving up. She was never built to fight a hurricane. She's a made-over fishing smack. She used to fish for flounder in peaceful waters, off Calais."

  At this moment a heavy wave lifted us high. The windows streamed with water and some of it dropped from the ceiling onto the admiral's sugar-loaf hat. He removed the hat, took a handkerchief from his sleeve, and brushed off the water. Water dropped on his bald head.