Free Roanoke (The Keepers of the Ring) by Angela Hunt, Angela Elwell Hunt

and supplies were brought on board. Audrey’s hand held hers again, but this time Audrey pulled Jocelyn through the crowd and down a companionway to the lower passenger deck. Jocelyn sat for some time without speaking, then lay down and watered the straw mattress beneath her with futile tears.
     
     
    “My father died alone, Uncle. You did wrong to bring me here.” She had come to his small cabin for a private confrontation.
    “No, child, you are wrong,” John White whispered, correcting his niece even as he silently admired her courage in confronting him. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, and he envied her the freedom of tears. He had no time for grief and no privacy in which to vent it, though he had lost a dear brother and friend.
    “Your father wanted you to come with me; he had been planning this for some time. If he had been well, he would have joined us on the journey himself, for he desired nothing more than to explore the New World . . .”
    His mind wandered off into a happy memory of a discussion he and his brother had once shared, and only when Jocelyn cleared her throat did his thoughts return to her. “But I would not have you unhappy, dear girl,” he said, reaching out to clasp her hand in his. “If we can find you a position, mayhap as a governess for a noble family, you may remain in England. But we have not much time.”
    “No.” Her response surprised him, and he lifted his brows in a questioning glance.
    She took a step toward him as though being closer would help him understand. “I do not doubt my father’s wisdom, I only regret that I was not with him at the end. He died alone, Uncle John, and I pray God will forgive me for allowing that to happen.”
    “You are not at fault, Jocelyn. Robert wanted you to go.”
    She shrugged gently. “Since he wanted me to be here with you, I will trust his judgment.” She took a deep breath and gave him a wavering smile. “I will go with you and Eleanor to this City of Raleigh. England holds nothing for me, not anymore. You, Eleanor, and Audrey are my family now.”
    He patted her hand in pleased surprise, and smiled as he recalled his first plan for his niece. Though Thomas Colman had apparently made no progress in the eight days since they first embarked, mayhap he could fare better in the weeks ahead as they crossed the western ocean .
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Seven
     
     
    S tanding alone at the bulwark of the Lion, Jocelyn watched the docks and chimneys of Portsmouth retreat into the horizon as the ship turned its bow to follow the sun. The aquamarine water of the English Channel rippled gently toward the shoreline, and though sea shanties echoed behind her as the seamen worked the sails, Jocelyn clothed herself in silence as she said goodbye to her father, her childhood home, and memories too painful to recall.
    “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion,” she quoted, recalling one of her father’s favorite psalms. “For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us the songs of Zion.”
    The wind caressed her face as she watched sparks of light reflect off the deep blue of the water, and a tear slipped from the corner of her eye as she remembered the touch of her father ’s hand on her cheek. “How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?” she went on, choking on the words as if a hand lay at her throat. “If I forget thee, father, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth . . .”
    A sudden breeze and dip of the ship sent a cool splash of spray into the air and across her face. She did not move, welcoming the tears of the sea to join her own as she lifted her heart in prayer:
    “To you, my Father God, I give these priceless memories. All I am, every dream I have ever known, came from the man who lies buried beyond these