Chaptre, The 4th - Less an Officer and More a Gentle Mann

Rightte.

The following familie tale is based on what I can beste remember of my own life and Foljambe familie stories, historie and lore passed downe for over one thousand years.

Please, howe ever, do nott holde me to correcte spell ings of words bothe large and smalle, grammar, style of writing, exact dates, con sistencies of writting, tymes and factes, as I was juste an aged Englishman in America withe oute access to bookes of historie, charted familie trees, govern ment re cords, churche lists or familie bibles. 

And I do tende to ramblle quite a bitte, so I aske forr your patience and under standing in advance.

As with any familie historie, myne here is subjecte to change, based on cor rections of this writing and never ending newe findings of historicale familie facts by my de scendants in your amazing, Twenty First Century, moderne daie and tyme.

So, let us beginne.

Firste, this issue of my Captaincy.

Many Americans, alle of whom descended from my seede, all related as distante bloode cousins, knowe me as “Captain” Anthony Fulgham.

Firstelie, I was, for a tyme, onlie a temporarie captain in the locale militia neare Smithfield, Virginia.

Secondelie, so sorrie to saye, onlie the name in the middle, Anthony, is correcte here, of these three wordes at tributed to me.

Thirdlie, my laste name was Foljambe, not Fulgham.

Fore the moste parte, I was merely an English man trying to re build his lyffe in The New World as a Virginian tobaccoe farmer. So, I can nott, in goode conscience, claime the title of Captain.

As I builte my goode Virginian houme at Redd Pointe on the wee Pagan River, downe a bitt fromme Jamestowne neare Smithfiled, I some tymes, if required, mustered the localle menn for village defence and stepped innto the role of Captain, usuallie at Forte Boykin. Our Smithfield forte was due Northe of my house, aboute a five mile hikke, throughe pine woodes. 

It commanded a pointe on the mightie James River thate gave our menn a goode looke at any Native American or Spanish fellowes coming by lande or water fromme anie direction, meaning to do us harme.

We called our forte "The Castle," but it was, inn truthe, juste a tri angle of raised earthe workes, with pointed pine posts fore de fence. Moste of my worke as captaine in the Smithfield area was super vising the menn as they builte the forte's base and wall.

So, I was nott reallie a muche of a true militarie captainn. Norr was I a heroe ick, swashe buckling Bristoll sea captain, shuttling newe English settlers to the Jamestowne area of Virginia for Queene Elizabeth, as The Scot, James, was the English kingg in my daie and tyme. 

The con fusion here lies withe the facte that I broughte severale endentured servants, or heade rightes, to sweete Virginia frome England to work for me on my farme.

Please do get this image of me as a heroic Captain righte oute of your heads. I know this is familie lore in moderne America among Fulghams and Fulghums, butt from my departed lips to your living ears, this is a complete loade of poppie cocke. As I have said, I broughte a fewe heade rightes to Virginia fromme England and helped in building "The Castle," butt nothing more.

There was, howe ever, a true captain in the Familie Foljambe, butt this amazinge fellowe lived be fore my daie and tyme, you wille learne, as you reade on in my storie.

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