| OCR Text |
Show Page 89 nigh on to three more years." With those bitter words he handed me the fish and left me. We put the herring out to dry, for Twig had caught a large turtle, which we roasted in live coals and opened at the table. It was delicious meat, yet as I sat at the board, pulling away small pieces and putting them into my mouth, I did not enjoy the meal. I saw only the slumped shoulders of John Clark as he walked away from me. I tasted only the bitter bile of remorse upon my tongue. ******************** July, 1620 Twig and I visited Rose today. I fear it was a mistake. ******************** The spring breezes had long since ceased to blow and the heavy air hung stagnant over Martin's Hundred. Hot as it was, I leaned into the smoke of the fire to escape the biting flies of summer. Making soap ashes was not a pleasing way to spend a Sunday, but I still nourished my dream of buying land even as the burning elm wood nourished the flame. |
