COLORS OF THE WIND
Chapter Eleven
Atlantic Ocean
Spring, 1607
Rose looked around to see if
anyone was watching, then whispered, “A real party?”
Jack nodded. “Yes, with dancing,
wine, and…real conversation.”
She masked a smile. “You mean, you
didn’t find the talk at dinner to your liking?”
Jack hesitated, hoping he hadn’t
offended her. “Erm…I would prefer to withhold judgment on the ‘savages’ until
we actually meet them. If you go expecting trouble, you’re sure to find it.”
Rose smiled, surprising him. “I
must agree. None of us have ever met the people of Virginia. While it’s wise to
be prepared, we must also not assume they are going to harm us. They have never
met us before, either…we may be a great shock to them.”
Jack nodded. “I’ve traveled quite
a ways, and what I learned was that people hardly ever match the expectations
formed for them beforehand. Who would have thought that fine nobles would be so
bloodthirsty?”
Rose raised an eyebrow at him,
her expression clearly saying that this was nothing new to her. Her face
softened after a moment, however, as she remembered that he hadn’t spent much
time around the nobility.
“That is true,” she replied after
a moment. “Mother always told me that commoners were uneducated and
untrustworthy, and while some certainly do fit that description, there are many
who do not…and there are some nobles who do.”
She glanced around the room, but
no one was left but a greasy young nobleman who had abandoned civility and was
drinking the last of a flask of wine straight from the pouch. He was so deep in
his cups that she doubted he would notice if she stripped off her clothing and
danced about the room naked.
“So,” she asked, “where is this
‘real party’?”
Jack grinned, offering her an arm
and leading her toward the bow.
*****
Rose heard the music, voices, and
stomping feet long before they reached the area where the common men relaxed in
the evenings. Only a few candles were lit, their flames flickering in the stiff
sea breeze in spite of being set in semi-protected spots, but her ears
identified the sounds of a lute and a violin, both instruments she had enjoyed
listening to in England. There was a rhythmic, metallic pounding sound from
near the railing, and when she squinted her eyes in the darkness, she thought she
recognized the tub she had attempted to wash her clothing in. She had heard the
music before from within her room, and even seen the faint glow of the candles
and the shadows of the men moving about, but had never had an opportunity to
join in the merriment before.
A number of men were dancing,
either alone or with each other, but the music and the sound of bare feet
stomping on the wooden deck came to a halt as Jack brought Rose into the faint
candlelight. Men gawked at her, some with resentment and more than a few with
interest. Several men pounded Jack on the back as though congratulating him.
“She wanted to see what the rest
of us do at the end of the day,” he explained.
There were a few whistles and
ribald remarks. Rose stood stiffly, staring coolly at the men who gawked at
her, most of whom had seen no more than brief glimpses of the two women on
board the ship—the only women any of them had seen in the six weeks since the
ship had left England.
Jack tightened his hold on Rose’s
arm, causing a few of the men to glance at them speculatively. He looked at
her, asking silently if she wanted to stay. She looked uncertain for a moment,
then straightened her back and raised her chin. She knew what some of the men
were thinking, but if any tried to touch her wrongly, they would soon learn
that she knew a thing or two about defending herself—any young noblewoman who
slipped away from her servants on the streets of London needed to know how to
take care of herself.
“Why is everyone staring at me?”
she asked. “I am no different from anyone else here, and I wish to hear more of
that lovely music. Perhaps someone could even show me your dances…I think they
are quite different from what I know.”
The men continued to stare at her
for a moment. Finally, Fabrizio, who had teased Jack incessantly about his
interest in Rose, came to her rescue.
He clapped his hands at the three
musicians. “What the lady said! Come on, bastardos!” He blushed slightly as
Rose gave him a shocked look. She didn’t speak Italian, but the word he had
used was close enough to the matching English term that she knew what it meant.
Then, taking a deep breath, he went ahead boldly. “Ah…perhaps I could have ’a
the first dance?”
Jack started to protest, glaring
at him, but stopped when Rose smiled and curtsied. “Of course, good sir. I
would be happy to dance with you.” She gave Jack an apologetic look as Fabrizio
swept her into an Italian peasant dance, both of them laughing at her mistakes.
As the evening wore on, Rose was
much in demand as a dance partner. Although some men would have liked to go
much farther than a simple dance, many were happy just to be that close to her.
Rose was pretty, energetic, and a good dancer, even if she didn’t know the
steps to most of the peasant dances. She was a quick learner, though, and soon
knew the basics of several of the dances…especially the ones that she was asked
to dance more than once.
Rose occasionally caught a
glimpse of Jack’s face in the candlelight, looking annoyed…he had brought her
to the party, but now, it seemed, she was dancing with everyone but him.
Finally, at the end of a dance
and before anyone else could claim her, Jack pushed through the crowd and took
her arm. Several men who had been waiting to dance with her protested, but Jack
just gave them a proprietary look and led her over to where the dregs of a
barrel of wine were sitting, open to the night air. He found his cup and
polished it quickly with his sleeve, then filled it and handed it to her.
Rose looked at him gratefully.
She was thirsty, but she hadn’t known if there was anything to drink. She took
a quick sip of the wine, then grimaced, glancing at the nearly-empty barrel.
The wine was sour, nearly gone to vinegar. Still, it was wet, and she was
thirsty. Quickly, she gulped it down, then handed the cup back to Jack,
ignoring the remarks of a few of the men as they watched her drink.
“What?” she asked as he stared at
her. “Do you think a noblewoman cannot drink?”
Jack grinned, setting the cup
down, and pulled her into an open spot as the musicians began again, this time
playing the tune for an Irish jig. “Watch me,” he told her, demonstrating the
steps.
Rose watched him for a moment,
then joined in, lifting her skirts so she could more easily follow his moves. He
laughed, casting a quick glare at the men who were crowding close, admiring the
sight of Rose’s slim ankles, and increased the pace of the dance. Laughing,
Rose followed him, tossing her high-heeled slippers to Tommy Ryan, who was
standing nearby.
When the dance ended, Rose went
to retrieve the slippers from Tommy, her eyes lighting on the forbidden
cigarette he was smoking. Before he could say anything, she snatched it from
his mouth and took a long drag, blowing the smoke out slowly and trying not to
cough as she gave it back to him.
“I have something to show you,”
she announced to everyone present. A few men cheered. “Not that,” she informed
them coolly, then went to stand at the very point of the bow. Clearing her
throat, she launched into one of her favorite scenes from her favorite play.
JULIET
O
Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
ROMEO
[Aside]
Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
JULIET
'Tis
but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
ROMEO
I
take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
JULIET
What
man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
So stumblest on my counsel?
ROMEO
By a
name
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee;
Had I it written, I would tear the word.
JULIET
My
ears have not yet drunk a hundred words
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:
Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?
ROMEO
Neither,
fair saint, if either thee dislike.
JULIET
How
camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.
ROMEO
With
love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold love out,
And what love can do that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.
JULIET
If
they do see thee, they will murder thee.
ROMEO
Alack,
there lies more peril in thine eye
Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.
JULIET
I
would not for the world they saw thee here.
ROMEO
I
have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;
And but thou love me, let them find me here:
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.
JULIET
By
whose direction found'st thou out this place?
ROMEO
By
love, who first did prompt me to inquire;
He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.
JULIET
Thou
know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'
And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries
Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.
ROMEO
Lady,
by yonder blessed moon I swear
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--
JULIET
O,
swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.
ROMEO
What
shall I swear by?
JULIET
Do
not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.
She spoke both the woman’s role
and the man’s, reasoning to herself that if a man could play a woman’s part,
why could a woman not play a man’s? Even if it wasn’t on a real stage, even if
she would never be allowed on a real stage, she still had an audience and could
still enact a scene from her favorite play.
The men applauded when she
finished, some glancing at Jack and making ribald remarks, having noted that
Rose’s gaze strayed to Jack at the declarations of love.
Rose bowed, enjoying the applause
and wishing she really could go on the stage. She smiled at Fabrizio when he
shouted, “Bravo! Bravo! You should ‘a be on the stage!”
Several men turned from teasing
Jack to teasing Fabrizio.
“A woman cannot be on the stage,”
one commented.
“Yes,” added another. “’Tis hard
enough to make women know their places as it is. If they were to go on stage,
there would be no controlling them.”
“You think a woman’s place is
under your skinny body,” Jack told him, coming to Rose’s defense and drawing
laughter from most of the men within earshot.
“He’s never had a woman,” Tommy
added, bringing more laughter from the gathered men.
Rose, whose ears were not nearly
so innocent as her mother and betrothed believed, joined in the laughter. “And
Lady Rose will not be his first!” she exclaimed. Some of the men cheered, a few
raising their cups appreciatively.
“I would watch her on the stage
any day!” Fabrizio added.
“As would I,” Jack said, raising
his cup. “To Lady Rose!”
There was a chorus of cheers from
the men. “To Lady Rose!”
Rose continued to stand at the bow,
basking in the glow of appreciation.