Smith's eyes twinkled as he snapped the cover on his
inkhorn.
"Why, 't is hard for an old rover like me to lie abed when there's man's
work to be done. You know, the London Company holds only the southern
division of the King's Patent for Virginia; the north's given to
Bristol, Exeter and Plymouth. And that's never been settled yet."
"There was a colony of Captain George Popham and Ralegh Gilbert went
out, five year ago," said Simons doubtfully. "They said they could not
endure the bitter climate."
"Sho," said Smith impatiently, one stubbed forefinger on the map, "'t is
in almost the same latitude as France. Maybe they chose the wrong place
for their plantation. Why, the French trade furs with the savages, all
up and down the Saint Laurence, and mind the cold no more than nothing
at all. The first thing we know, the Dutch will be out here finding a
road to the Indies."
Both men laughed. They had lost faith in that road to fortune.
"Anyhow Hudson didn't find it when they sent him to look for it the year
afore he died," said Simons, "or they'd be into it now. But what are you
scheming?"
"First make a voyage of exploration," said Smith. "I ha' talked with one
and another that told me they taken a draught of the coast, and I ha'
six or seven of the plots they drew, so different from one another and
out of proportion they do me as much good as so much waste paper--though
they cost me more," added the veteran grimly.
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