Hannah Parker - a short story

Splintered pieces of an unseen wreck bobbed against the marshy shore while harsh winds blustered a shivering half dozen men. Each man seemingly stood his ground against the elements, albeit wrapped heavily in animal hides. Frozen beards and raw red faces grimaced with the ice and snow and yet each appeared bound with desire succeed as fur covered arms extend and retracted along with a gaffing pole, as they attempted to pull in the wood and partial boxes from the surf. Clouds of vapor spewed from each mouth though only muffled grunts and gasps could be heard.

So far, the winter of 1630 had been brutal. Many families had perished in an effort to settle the world. Nearby colonists were building a compound, both against the elements and the Native population. Because of the force of the weather, many families simply froze or starved as there was no escape from the new land.

Simeon Mason and a handful of others had established a foothold along the broad mouth of a river they called Piscataqua, a name told to them by one of the Indians who lived in the nearby wilderness. Others “would be” settlers attempted to join the men along the river, few survived or stayed. But for the handful of men, and the ones who managed to stay, survival would be minute by minute on the swampy area boarding where the river met the ocean.

Originally, the men had gathered to endeavor shoreline fishing. If successful their efforts would secure more food for the cold winter days. The debris began appearing at daybreak and the fishermen spent their morning casting lines and capturing parts of a shipwreck.

“Mason, get that big one over there.” A burley man covered in furs pointed toward a box floating near a small jetty.

The man called Mason eased his way onto the ice covered wooden platform, extended the gaff and gingerly pulled in the half sunken box. “It will take a day to dry the wood.”

“Who knows, it might be Spanish gold,” laughed the burley man.

“Do ye think the savages would take gold for some mash,” shouted one of the men.

“Aye, me think them savages have more gold than they know what to do with, but it has no value except to be pretty.” The burley man began stacking boards along the shoreline.

“What would the savages be doing in this storm?” One of the men approached from the water line pulling a long plank.

“Probably staying warm somewhere and planning how to cook a white man.” The burley man roared with laughter.

The man pulling the board stopped for a breath. “I hear they have traded with the colony, is that true Mason?”

Mason forced his frozen beard apart. “This I am sure. When last I met with church men there they mentioned same.” Then, he carefully edged his way back off of the outcropping and boat dock.

A gust of northern wind nearly blew Mason off of the platform. He balanced himself with his gaff. “Whoa, let’s get this wood into a dryer area, I have no mind to swim today.”

Another man took Mason’s gaff and pulled the box onto the shore.

“Thank ye brother,” said Mason. He and the other man picked up the box and began carrying it up the embankment.

For the next hour the men moved wood and boxes and any debris they could find;

most of the materials were carried to a series of tents. The camp was set up amid the shoreline brush, the theory being the brush would help buffer the wind. When the last of the debris was collected the group paused for a word of thanksgiving.

Mason began. “Merciful father, we of little service, we who sin, we who stand here in your presence to offer you thanks for the abundance you have provided. We have found wood for our fire, we have caught fish for our table, and even a rabbit for our stew, your generosity over whelms us Lord. Finally, father, we pray for the souls of the men sailing the ship. We pray they found safe portage, whether on land or in your arms. This we pray oh Lord.”

Six shivering voices answered, “Amen.”

A tall man wrapped like a mummy approached Mason. “The watchman said he thinks it was a Portuguese transport broke up in the storm last night, he thought he saw her flags in the evening. He said the men left the sinking ship in small boats going south, but they did not come into the river.”

“I pray they found secure bidding in the storm. If anyone in the colony saw them I am sure they were landed, but no person comes from there today.” Mason examined the wooden box.

“They must have followed the shoreline in their boats, and I hold that all were spared; no bodies have washed up today, but we will watch the shore.” The tall man pointed across the river.

Mason waved at the debris. “Save as much of the wood as you can.”

“Yeah, if we have to we will burn it; otherwise we will use it to build after the thaw. Most of this is nicely cut.” The burley man dropped an armload of lumber in the center of the camp. “Take the splinted pieces for the fire. But, save the flat.”

“Aye,” said the tall man, “much of the flat pieces contain an oil, they must be from the decks or maybe the cabins.”

Mason knocked off the side of the box he had retrieved then jumped back when water poured out. The tall man looked at the contents. “Looks like they were bringing dry goods, this is broad cloth, ruined now.”

“We’ll make some use of it. Take it to the store, perhaps it can be used after the thaw.” The burley man picked up the wet cloth and tossed it on a waiting hewn sleigh, at the same time a wax covered box tumbled onto the snow. “There are new families in the village now, we have more mouths to care for.” He seemed to glance the fallen box.

“Are there men among them?” Mason walked through the snow and picked up the smaller box.

“That I know not. I only heard of their arrival.” The burley man began pushing the sleigh further up the slope.

Mason picked up the small box and held it in the sunlight.

“What’s that Mason?” One of the men motioned toward the box.

“I don’t know friend.” Mason shook the box and it rattled slightly. “Sounds like it has papers in it. I’ll take it to my sister, maybe she can tell me what it is.”

“Give the box to the girl; I saw her picking up colored rocks last fall. She can put her collection in it.” The burley man laughed.

“Thank you friend, I believe I will.” Mason put the box in a large game bag he was carrying. Secure the tents, and then let’s move some of these boards and things up to the cabin. You men take some of that wood to the stores and some to your own home.”

The tall man stepped forward. “I’ll stay with the watchman and see what else comes in.”

“Good,” Mason saluted, “be with God, these are hard days, but we will see the sunshine soon.”