It is currently May 16, 1655: Brent Donaldson
It has been hard to find a book, but I found myself wanting to write about current events regarding my coming to the New World. Sentimental, I know.
Ever sense I was taken from Bristol England as, what my sorry mates called me, a quite worthless individual of no talent whatsoever, I served for five years as a tobacco harvester in the New World. They worked us to death they did. By us I'm referring to myself alongside the other indentured servants on the farm. Me and this other Englander, John Sanders, got along very well, always telling each other to run off into the woods as to get away from the work. A year into our stay John and I made friends with one of the new Africans, Nouko. He added to our banter of escape.
It's funny. I distinctly remember one afternoon on that farm more than any other with ol' Nouko and John. We were all out in the fields, plucking tobacco in this dreadful heat, when we see two of our guys streaking off into the woods behind the farm shed followed our owner, Mr. River, trailing behind them with his two bloodhounds barking away. It was the most enjoyable sight I've ever witnessed, seeing Mr. River work for a change, sweating the fat off him as he chased his two prized laborers off between the trees. They were back later that evening, the two runaways. The punishments weren't as serious as I'd thought, for runaways, but the odd thing was that the two were given different punishments. The white guy got a few more years added onto his time at the farm while the African got to stay for life. I told them at least they weren't killed or something, however much that helped.
Looking back on it, it was a good thing that we never tried to run from the farm. In the end me, Nouko, and John had paid our debts and went free as the birds from that place. Now, I was surprised that they didn't give us necessities as promised, like clothing and provisions, but I was fine with it. I was soon looking for a place to live, not that it was really a great place to start a family. The stagnant river nearby was quite a dirty thing leading to poor sanitation in the colony, and the food shortages were scary. I actually almost died from the river water once, and got sick from it on many other occasions. After a few years in Jamestown I started a family, which I thought I would most never be able to do. Susan Donaldson is my wife to this day, and is, as I can say, very pretty. We had our first child in the summer of 1647 and our second late in the year of 1652. It's now summer again three years from then, and I am amazed at how fast little boys grow.
Ed, now being eight and the eldest, is always asking of the founding of Jamestown and why we are living so far from England. This is mainly why I'm writing this journal. But it's more probable that I'm doing so because Susan won't stop talking about the founding of Jamestown in 1607, and why Captain John Smith is so great a dictator. He is the man who helped us establish good native relations with the Powhatan and practically rescued the whole colony from starvation. However, Susan, when you're reading this, I hope you understand that I truly don't want to hear any more about recent history.
