John Barth - The Sot-Weed Factor

Billy bristled. "Do you think your wretched militia is a match for Quassapelagh and Drepacca? By summer the Governor's scalp will hang from my father's ridgepole!"

"Please, sir, hear me out! If Drepacca makes his treaty with Monsieur Casteene and the Naked Indians, the English will be harried out of America, and 'twill be no chore to drive the French out after them; I grant that. But 'tis not the English case I plead: 'tis the case of humankind, of Civilization versus the Abyss of salvagery. Only think, sir: what you've acquired in less than a fortnight wanted two thousand years and more a-building; 'tis a most sweet liquor, is't not? Yet the mash whence man distilled it is two dozen centuries of toil and misery! What, will you drink your fill and throw away the flask, when your people hath such thirst? I grant the English have used you ill, but to drive them out is to drive yourself back into darkness."

Billy did not reply.

"All well, here is my plan," Ebenezer said resignedly. "Whilst I was in your father's town I marked a great rivalry betwixt Quassapelagh and Drepacca; they regard Chicamec as no more than a valuable figurehead, as't were, and vie with each other to dominate the triumvirate. But the fact is, neither hath the whole requirement of an emperor, do you think? Quassapelagh hath the loyalty of the Indians, but for all his virtues he falls short in cleverness and diplomacy; Drepacca is a brilliant fellow, but as yet hath little strength. ."

"Thou'rt a shrewd observer," Billy admitted. " 'Tis well for them the Tayac Chicamec is old, for he hath both wit and numbers in his favor."

"Precisely!" the poet exclaimed. "But he is old, and there's our opportunity! Thou'rt his son, and heir to both his genius and his influence; if he should abdicate in your favor, 'twould be no chore for you to play Quassapelagh and Drepacca against each other. Thou'rt the only one of the three who can rule alone. And i'faith, Billy, what blessing you could bring to your people! The power to make war would still be yours, and in the plain and public face of't any governor in his senses will put an end to oppressing you; violence will give way to honest negotiation, and our two peoples may borrow each the best of the other's culture — "

"Why do you not apply to your good friend Burlingame instead?" Billy interrupted. "Belike your sister could hit on some subtle means of persuading him."

"Ah, dear Billy!" Anna cried. "I've had no chance yet to explain — "

"Apply to Burlingame I shall," Ebenezer broke in, "but not to go to Chicamec. In the first place he is English by nurture and appearance, a stranger to your people, and ne'er could win their trust; in the second, he is close to Governor Nicholson and hath great influence in the provinces; he can do your cause more good in Anne Arundel Town than on Bloodsworth Island." He searched his mind desperately for additional arguments. " 'Sheart, Billy, 'tis not as if you must live there forever! When your position is secure there'll be no need for your people to hide; you can rule just as well from here and live as you live now. As for Anna, she hath declared already — "

"Enough," Billy commanded, and rose from the bench. "The house belongs to Harvey Russecks, not to me; and the woman, as I gather, belongs to my brother."

"Go to!" pleaded Anna. "I shan't leave you!"

"Then follow me to the town of Chicamec," Billy said coldly. "The Ahatchwhoop women will tear you to pieces." He made a bow to Ebenezer. "I congratulate you, sir, on achieving both of your objectives: your sister now understands that she is no Indian, and I that I am no Englishman. I shall go back to Bloodsworth Island in a very few days."

Anna burst into tears. "Nay, if thou'rt English no more, then you must own me for thy lawful wife!"

"On that point, Miss Cooke, the code of the Ahatchwhoops is quite clear: the Tayac may take as many outland concubines as he pleases, but the blood of his wife should be untainted. Good night."

Ebenezer entreated him not to leave, but Billy (who now demanded that they call him Cohunkowprets) was adamant. " 'Tis near dawn now, and we've yet to sleep," he said. "I shall spend today putting my friend's property in order; tomorrow we'll return to Church Creek and thence to Bloodsworth Island."

Forbidding Anna to follow him, he left the cabin, whereupon Anna fell into a fit of weeping and cursing her inadvertence. Ebenezer's own feelings were mixed: on the one hand he was genuinely sorry that Billy's pride had been so injured, and concerned lest his stratagem misfire on that account; overbalancing these considerations, however, were his joy at finding and in a sense rescuing his sister, as well as succeeding, so it appeared, in his mission to save the lives of his companions. It was no easy matter to calm Anna's distress, but he was assisted by their mutual fatigue; after what seemed like hours of soothing talk he put an end to her tears, and when the first grey light appeared she was asleep on the bench.

Throughout the afternoon and evening both Ebenezer and his sister did their best to regain Billy's friendship, but though his bitterness seemed to have passed, he held steadfastly to his position and virtually ignored their presence as he worked about the cabin. His taciturnity was not the only change in Billy: overnight, as it were, he had discarded his mufti and become an Indian again. His English clothes he had exchanged for matchcoat and buckskin breeches (just as Anna, when she awoke, had exchanged her ragged shift for a proper English costume); his movements were those of a woodsman rather than a planter; even his skin seemed magically to have darkened, as Anna's had quite literally lightened under her diligent scouring. It was a difficult day, and Ebenezer welcomed the coming of nightfall, when Billy again retired to the barn and he and Anna talked for hours between their separate pallets in the dark, much as they had done in childhood. Next morning Billy closed the cabin and outbuildings, hitched up the team, and drove them silently to Church Creek. He would not enter the little settlement himself, but stopped a quarter of a mile from the inn.

"I'll wait here for one hour by the sun," he announced — the first words he'd spoken in two days. "Stay with your sister and send your companion to me if you want the hostages to live."

In vain Ebenezer protested that he had promised Chicamec to return in person; that Anna would be perfectly safe with Mrs. Russecks if the miller was not entirely recovered; that to send McEvoy in his place would make him look and feel a coward.

"One minute of your hour is spent," Billy observed, and turned away; to Anna's farewell he made no reply at all.

It was Ebenezer's intention to approach the village with caution, lest Harry Russecks be up and about his business, but upon reaching the inn he saw McEvoy and a considerable number of others gathered in plain sight in the nearby churchyard. Anna drew a scarf about her face to avoid being recognized as the Church Creek Virgin, and they went over to the gathering.

"Eben!" McEvoy cried upon recognizing him. "Dear Christ, but it's good to see ye back! I feared the salvage had done ye to death for stealing his bride!" He noticed Anna and went pale. "Is't you, Joan?" he whispered.

Ebenezer smiled. " 'Twas a more eventful journey than I'd supposed, John: his bride was not Joan Toast but my sister Anna, who is his bride no longer."

"What in Heav'n!"

"There's no time to explain now." Ebenezer glanced at the activity around the church door. "Since thou'rt not in hiding, I gather that Sir Harry is still bedridden."