Dangerous Dreams: A Novel Read Online Free

minute it takes you to reload and prime that matchlock musket, and we don’t have enough men for volley fire. So be certain of a kill before you pull a trigger. You must teach this to your men, Lieutenant. Oh, I also suggest you place an archer or two, and perhaps a pikeman, in every contingent to diversify and balance your lethality.” My God, he thought with an invisible shudder, how desperately ill prepared we are. He imagined the starving, terrified colonists cowering behind the burning palisades, hundreds of screaming Savages shooting arrows into them, people crying, shouting, dying, blood all around; then the end: survivors bludgeoned to death by stone clubs, dismembered, brains and body parts scattered on the ground, women raped, taken captive to be wed and bred to uncivilized Savages. A wave of nausea rose to his throat. But if . . .
if
I can persuade Fernandez to take us north . . . then . . .
    “Yes, Sir,” said Waters.
    “Very well, Lieutenant. Before it’s completely dark, we must collect firewood and water. See to it then post a guard of at least six men around the inside of what remains of the palisades . . . and ensure they have a clear field of view and fire.”
    “But, Sir. My men aren’t laborers. They’re soldiers. The colonists can—”
    “Lieutenant Waters,” White looked sternly into his eyes, “I’m not sending unseasoned colonists into harm’s way. Not this night. You and your men are armed and trained for this.” He leaned his head closer to the Lieutenant’s. “You know what’s happened here, the dead soldier, the arrows. But these people know nothing, and they’re dangerously unprepared for this situation. You must—”
    “Sir, I protest.”
    “Those are my orders, Lieutenant. Carry them out. You must do your duty.”
    Waters stared uncertainly, reluctantly into White’s eyes for a long moment, knew he’d gone too far. Damned civilians. No business giving orders to men of arms. They’ll make a mess of it. Naïve fool . . . yet, my orders are to protect the colony . . . and the governor
is
the colony. “Yes, Sir.”
    He turned, spoke to his two sergeants who stood twenty feet away watching the exchange. “Myllet, Smith, take four men each. Myllet, your group will gather enough firewood to get us through the night. ’Tis warm, and there’s little to cook, so we only need enough to provide light. Smith, take your men and some buckets. Bring enough water to get us to sunrise. There’s a stream over there.” He pointed to other side of the village. “The one we saw earlier.” His voice faded to a whisper. “Near where we buried the dead man. Be wary. I believe there
are
Savages about . . . and, men, ’tis not I who directs you to do manual labor for civilians. The governor believes the circumstances warrant it. And we must obey him. So move out quickly.”
    As the grousing soldiers left the village, Emily Colman and her father had already started gathering firewood from around the cottage they and the Howes were sharing. The elder George Howe used his eating knife to scrape fog-dampened bark from a pile of dead sticks, then laid them one at a time in the shape of a cone next to a pile of fuzzy, dry tinder from the inside edge of several large pieces of bark.
    Young George said, “Father, I have my tinder box. Do you want it?”
    “Nay, Son. This dry bark will work. Save the good tinder for a wet day.” With a rapid scraping motion, Howe repeatedly chipped his knife across the piece of flint in his left hand, generated a stream of sparks that shot into the tinder, soon produced a glowing ember. He picked up the tinder ball, blew it gently into a flame, then laid it on the ground, placed the cone of kindling on top. “Wood gatherers, prithee deliver some larger wood to grow this flame. Looks like the fog will be with us all night, and we may need its warmth.”
    Emily and her father laid several larger pieces of wood on the fire. Colman said, “That should hold us