I am not sure of what smells worse, the dirt floor that seems to have a hundred year build up of criminal feces, and cheap Caribbean rum or the old man in the corner. To help with the smell and the pounding head ache given by the British soldiers, I tried to find a tranquil space moving around the twelve by twelve British brig. With twenty other misfits it seems no matter where I go someone has staken claim to their part of the iron house. Suddenly a group of red coats (Name given to British troops in the Americas) approach the large iron door. Many of my fellow traders, bums, and the few odd characters became uncomfortable as they open the door. Without saying a word the soldiers grabbed a shady lad from the corner and walked him out. I have seen the poorly dressed man the day before at the Ye Old Man which is the most popular pub in England. I believe his name was Gustafe a well know hobo who seems to have a daily membership to the Liverpool harbour jail. As other prisoners left, more room became available allowing me to lie down; of course it was a good idea to look first. It did not take long for me to start recapping the past months as I fell in and out of consciousness. I had just arrived yesterday aboard the Royal trading ship Halsewell in Liverpool Harbour. Unlike most trading ships the Halsewell was owned by the East India trading company. The Royal crown had used my disruptive behavior against me and forced me to help guide the captain. While I had little experience in navigating ships the size of the Halsewell, I had sailed many of Carracks. We had been gone 6 months or so making the long travel to Africa and Virginia colony. With our return to Liverpool Harbour, the pubs overflowed with stories, and lies. One such story seemed to rise above the others concerning ships leaving the Harbor going south to pick up men of color to work in the new world. While I had just finished such a trip I would eventually discovered that slaves were first brought to Virginia in 1619. I found it a priority to keep my mouth shut not letting acquaintances know that I had just made such a travel. This made many traders nervous knowing that if one man was willing to trade another, what could be next.

Dirty Sam, Dirty Sam Roberts wake up! I felt a jab to my shoulder and thought I was reliving the beating received by the British soldiers the night before. Of course it was not my fault. A few so called pirates were trying not to pay the agreed price for some bags of sugar cane I had smuggled in from the Caribbean. Well their hair was so greasy, when I set it on fire it burned like large candles. That is of course until the red coats arrived. When I finally realized that someone was trying to wake me up I attempted to clear the fog from my head. One of the more coherent individuals was poking me in the shoulder with his hook. I asked him why he was waking me up. He said the soldiers were yelling my name. I looked at the large iron door where six red coats were standing and staring at me. Sam Roberts get over here. I slowly rose to my feet and approached the door. I recognized one of the six as the one who hit me in the head with the butt of his gun. He looked away quickly. Three soldiers walked in front and three behind routinely hitting me and telling me to hurry up. We approached the main doors of what seemed to be the courtroom. As we entered there was a judge sitting directly in the front of the room. As I approached, the soldiers that were in front slid to the sides so the judge had a great look at me. Are you Sam Roberts? Yes I answered. Have I ever seen you here before? No I said. Sam Roberts, I have asked around about you. You just returned from a trip in support of our king and queen. Your actions upon your return have shown a great deal of disrespect to the royal crown. It is my decision that you will pay ten pounds and are ordered to leave the city of Liverpool. If you are ever arrested in this town again, the Royal Court will place you in prison for the rest of your life. I quickly paid the court and was escorted out and left to decide my future.   

So there I was standing on the brick steps outside the Royal Court. Just the day before the future looked brighter for Dirty Same. If I had only learned from the past about trading with pirates, I have never met an honest one. So what was I to do? My mother had taught me not to be a quitter and the key to success was to be educated. . Mum as I called her, against my father’s wishes had taught me how to read and write, keep track of my finances; she might have failed with that one, treat the ladies with respect, and to speak with intelligence. These attributes gave me an advantage among traders. I had made most of my profits buying and selling odd items like exotic birds, some cursed more than pirates, spices, and sugar cane. While the profits from these goods had not made me rich, I knew my ability to sail straight, sell anything, and talk among Royalty would allow me to achieve my goals of riches. I decided to take inventory of what I had left. My trusty leather boats, which had carried me at sea for months, were still in great shape. My brown wool pants known as bulbous had started to lose their flare. They had been torn and restitched many time, but I had chosen these pants for the reputation of being relentless and tough such as the Vikings who started the fashion. As I pulled my pockets out I found pieces of straw, rolled wool, and some other foreign maters left over from jail. I searched and searched my pockets knowing there had to be some money, but no matter how hard I searched, no money was found. The shirt I was wearing had not been washed in about a month. It had a distinct salt smell from being at sea. It had now taken on a new fragrance, the smell of old, sort of, like your grandmother’s house had taken over my nose. It still was an impressive shirt, with white and gold ruffles showing the value of my existence. Covering it was my father’s leather Jerkin, which my mother had given to me when I left home. I think she wanted me to wear it so I would get homesick and return. That had been over ten years ago. My hat, which could be compared to a Thrum, stood proud sticking up an impressive twelve inches from the top of my head. A Native American medicine man had made it during my last visit to the Virginia Colony. I had just shot a prickly animal known as a porky pine. I thought this to be an unusual material to make into a hat that is the reason why it had to be mine. The Medicine man thought it was crazy for wanting such a hat, but agreed to make it if he was paid with rum. Of course, it was always a good idea to make sure you knew where you put it before sitting down. After checking myself head to toe and realizing all of my worldly possessions were with me, it was time to decide; what was I to do. I had no money or trade items. I had just traveled to and from the new world, maybe there were more opportunities. When I was in the Virginia Colony there were many things I did like. Its Government was governed by a representative assembly know as the House of Burgesses which could be the Representative Government allowing me to expand my trading ventures. When I was a child my father would tell me about the problems with our Government. He said that there was too much control with too few of people. He said our Government goes back many of years to the ancient Romans who once controlled our lands from A.D. 43 to 410. My father would talk for hours covering the problems plaguing England’s government. Would Virginia be the place to start?

Ideas raced through my mind on the endless possibilities in front of me. Could I make the right choice. I started to consider the negatives to staying in England. The economy in England during the 17^th was lowering to a dismal level. Crime had increased, it was no longer safe to walk in some alleys, and Civil war had broken out starting in 1642. The country had been divided between King Charles I and his supporters against the Parliament led by Oliver Cromwell. As my man Cromwell gained more power the Royalist or Charles I, supporters came under more and more pressure leading to the persecution of many men. The end came when Charles I was beheaded a few years ago in 1649. If I decided to go to Virginia, which is named after a dog of women Elizabeth I, many of Charles I followers in England the Cavaliers or Royalist had escaped to Virginia Colony and started to lead the Government. This might lead to many of the same restriction we have seen in London. While I am not a practicing religious man, I did know a Holy man who wanted to go to Virginia and practice his own religion. I have heard he is doing well.

I decided to start walking down the black cobbled street towards the harbor, my eyes had begun to turn back to normal, and the calmness of morning filled the air. It was a peaceful time. As I walked, I thought about the wealth I could gain by going to the Americas. But where would I go. How would I pay for my journey, what would I eat, and knowing of the long tedious journey could I stay healthy enough to find a job when I arrived. As I got closer to the harbor, the tall boats seemed to grow out of the water like giants. The streets became busier, and men slept along the side of the streets sleeping off the night before. I could see many men loading and unloading ships. I soon started to feel at home with the smell of salt water and the creaking of wood. A man was yelling orders for this to go there and this to go here. I approached the man and asked what was all of the yelling. He said can’t you see, we are preparing ships to go to the new world. My mind began to race. It was if I was boarding one of the ships. I asked the man if he knew what part of the new world they were going to. The man, who was a rough looking creature, stared at me as if I was speaking a foreign language. He had a huge wart directly between his eyes. It was as if he was a Cyclops except three eyes instead of one. Names of colonies blurred my thought; I had to make a decision.

I am not sure of what smells worse, the dirt floor that seems to have a hundred year build up of criminal feces, and cheap Caribbean rum or the old man in the corner. To help with the smell and the pounding head ache given by the British soldiers, I tried to find a tranquil space moving around the twelve by twelve British brig. With twenty other misfits it seems no matter where I go someone has staken claim to their part of the iron house. Suddenly a group of red coats (Name given to British troops in the Americas) approach the large iron door. Many of my fellow traders, bums, and the few odd characters became uncomfortable as they open the door. Without saying a word the soldiers grabbed a shady lad from the corner and walked him out. I have seen the poorly dressed man the day before at the Ye Old Man which is the most popular pub in England. I believe his name was Gustafe a well know hobo who seems to have a daily membership to the Liverpool harbour jail. As other prisoners left, more room became available allowing me to lie down; of course it was a good idea to look first. It did not take long for me to start recapping the past months as I fell in and out of consciousness. I had just arrived yesterday aboard the Royal trading ship Halsewell in Liverpool Harbour. Unlike most trading ships the Halsewell was owned by the East India trading company. The Royal crown had used my disruptive behavior against me and forced me to help guide the captain. While I had little experience in navigating ships the size of the Halsewell, I had sailed many of Carracks. We had been gone 6 months or so making the long travel to Africa and Virginia colony. With our return to Liverpool Harbour, the pubs overflowed with stories, and lies. One such story seemed to rise above the others concerning ships leaving the Harbor going south to pick up men of color to work in the new world. While I had just finished such a trip I would eventually discovered that slaves were first brought to Virginia in 1619. I found it a priority to keep my mouth shut not letting acquaintances know that I had just made such a travel. This made many traders nervous knowing that if one man was willing to trade another, what could be next.

Dirty Sam, Dirty Sam Roberts wake up! I felt a jab to my shoulder and thought I was reliving the beating received by the British soldiers the night before. Of course it was not my fault. A few so called pirates were trying not to pay the agreed price for some bags of sugar cane I had smuggled in from the Caribbean. Well their hair was so greasy, when I set it on fire it burned like large candles. That is of course until the red coats arrived. When I finally realized that someone was trying to wake me up I attempted to clear the fog from my head. One of the more coherent individuals was poking me in the shoulder with his hook. I asked him why he was waking me up. He said the soldiers were yelling my name. I looked at the large iron door where six red coats were standing and staring at me. Sam Roberts get over here. I slowly rose to my feet and approached the door. I recognized one of the six as the one who hit me in the head with the butt of his gun. He looked away quickly. Three soldiers walked in front and three behind routinely hitting me and telling me to hurry up. We approached the main doors of what seemed to be the courtroom. As we entered there was a judge sitting directly in the front of the room. As I approached, the soldiers that were in front slid to the sides so the judge had a great look at me. Are you Sam Roberts? Yes I answered. Have I ever seen you here before? No I said. Sam Roberts, I have asked around about you. You just returned from a trip in support of our king and queen. Your actions upon your return have shown a great deal of disrespect to the royal crown. It is my decision that you will pay ten pounds and are ordered to leave the city of Liverpool. If you are ever arrested in this town again, the Royal Court will place you in prison for the rest of your life. I quickly paid the court and was escorted out and left to decide my future.   

So there I was standing on the brick steps outside the Royal Court. Just the day before the future looked brighter for Dirty Same. If I had only learned from the past about trading with pirates, I have never met an honest one. So what was I to do? My mother had taught me not to be a quitter and the key to success was to be educated. . Mum as I called her, against my father’s wishes had taught me how to read and write, keep track of my finances; she might have failed with that one, treat the ladies with respect, and to speak with intelligence. These attributes gave me an advantage among traders. I had made most of my profits buying and selling odd items like exotic birds, some cursed more than pirates, spices, and sugar cane. While the profits from these goods had not made me rich, I knew my ability to sail straight, sell anything, and talk among Royalty would allow me to achieve my goals of riches. I decided to take inventory of what I had left. My trusty leather boats, which had carried me at sea for months, were still in great shape. My brown wool pants known as bulbous had started to lose their flare. They had been torn and restitched many time, but I had chosen these pants for the reputation of being relentless and tough such as the Vikings who started the fashion. As I pulled my pockets out I found pieces of straw, rolled wool, and some other foreign maters left over from jail. I searched and searched my pockets knowing there had to be some money, but no matter how hard I searched, no money was found. The shirt I was wearing had not been washed in about a month. It had a distinct salt smell from being at sea. It had now taken on a new fragrance, the smell of old, sort of, like your grandmother’s house had taken over my nose. It still was an impressive shirt, with white and gold ruffles showing the value of my existence. Covering it was my father’s leather Jerkin, which my mother had given to me when I left home. I think she wanted me to wear it so I would get homesick and return. That had been over ten years ago. My hat, which could be compared to a Thrum, stood proud sticking up an impressive twelve inches from the top of my head. A Native American medicine man had made it during my last visit to the Virginia Colony. I had just shot a prickly animal known as a porky pine. I thought this to be an unusual material to make into a hat that is the reason why it had to be mine. The Medicine man thought it was crazy for wanting such a hat, but agreed to make it if he was paid with rum. Of course, it was always a good idea to make sure you knew where you put it before sitting down. After checking myself head to toe and realizing all of my worldly possessions were with me, it was time to decide; what was I to do. I had no money or trade items. I had just traveled to and from the new world, maybe there were more opportunities. When I was in the Virginia Colony there were many things I did like. Its Government was governed by a representative assembly know as the House of Burgesses which could be the Representative Government allowing me to expand my trading ventures. When I was a child my father would tell me about the problems with our Government. He said that there was too much control with too few of people. He said our Government goes back many of years to the ancient Romans who once controlled our lands from A.D. 43 to 410. My father would talk for hours covering the problems plaguing England’s government. Would Virginia be the place to start?

Ideas raced through my mind on the endless possibilities in front of me. Could I make the right choice. I started to consider the negatives to staying in England. The economy in England during the 17^th was lowering to a dismal level. Crime had increased, it was no longer safe to walk in some alleys, and Civil war had broken out starting in 1642. The country had been divided between King Charles I and his supporters against the Parliament led by Oliver Cromwell. As my man Cromwell gained more power the Royalist or Charles I, supporters came under more and more pressure leading to the persecution of many men. The end came when Charles I was beheaded a few years ago in 1649. If I decided to go to Virginia, which is named after a dog of women Elizabeth I, many of Charles I followers in England the Cavaliers or Royalist had escaped to Virginia Colony and started to lead the Government. This might lead to many of the same restriction we have seen in London. While I am not a practicing religious man, I did know a Holy man who wanted to go to Virginia and practice his own religion. I have heard he is doing well.

I decided to start walking down the black cobbled street towards the harbor, my eyes had begun to turn back to normal, and the calmness of morning filled the air. It was a peaceful time. As I walked, I thought about the wealth I could gain by going to the Americas. But where would I go. How would I pay for my journey, what would I eat, and knowing of the long tedious journey could I stay healthy enough to find a job when I arrived. As I got closer to the harbor, the tall boats seemed to grow out of the water like giants. The streets became busier, and men slept along the side of the streets sleeping off the night before. I could see many men loading and unloading ships. I soon started to feel at home with the smell of salt water and the creaking of wood. A man was yelling orders for this to go there and this to go here. I approached the man and asked what was all of the yelling. He said can’t you see, we are preparing ships to go to the new world. My mind began to race. It was if I was boarding one of the ships. I asked the man if he knew what part of the new world they were going to. The man, who was a rough looking creature, stared at me as if I was speaking a foreign language. He had a huge wart directly between his eyes. It was as if he was a Cyclops except three eyes instead of one. Names of colonies blurred my thought; I had to make a decision.