Roanoke

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by Lee Miller


  John White and the Colonists

  July 1587. The fifteen soldiers are gone. A bleaching skeleton, all that remains. John White understands that his colony is in danger; and all the while, anchored off Hatorask are the ships that could have taken them to the Chesapeake Bay and away from all this. Before Fernandez’s sabotage. Before he delivered them to their deaths. For that is exactly the colonists’ sentence.

  White’s first order of business, as we have seen, was to provide for the families’ immediate comfort, ordering the houses to be repaired and others built. While this was progressing, George Howe was killed. Catching crabs, separated from the others.

  It is now possible to understand White’s account more fully. Circumstances that did not make sense before are clear. July 30. White does the only thing he can do. Twenty colonists are ferried to Croatoan by Captain Stafford, Lane’s former officer, along with Manteo, who had his mother and many of his kindred dwelling in that island.5 Croatoan, the place where Manteo was born. They come to ask the fate of the fifteen soldiers, but they have also come — bless John White! — especially to learn the disposition of the people of the country towards us, and to renew our old friendship with them.

  The reunion does not begin smoothly. At our first landing, said White, they seemed as though they would fight with us. The envoys, startled, reach for their guns. Seeing this, the people turned their backs, and fled. Croatoan is John White’s last hope. As they disappear from view, his spirit sinks in despair. It was not supposed to happen this way! On every side, misfortune. But wait! All is not lost: for Manteo called to them in their own language. Stopping, turning, the people of Croatoan stare in disbelief. These English clothes of his. And then recognition. All at once, they threw away their bows and arrows, and some of them came unto us, embracing and entertaining us friendly. The relief is overwhelming.

  But scars are visible. Perhaps the presence of Stafford causes unease. Stafford, who led his men to Croatoan the previous year to plunder stores of food. Lane’s orders. Despite the friendly embraces and signs of acceptance, the Croatoans desired us not to gather or spill any of their corn, for that they had but little.

  We answered them, assures White, that neither their corn, nor any other thing of theirs should be diminished by any of us. Though the colonists’ own supplies are not sufficient, our coming was only to renew the old love that was between us, and them, at the first, and to live with them as brethren and friends.

  The First Roanoke Expedition

  White had been there at the first. In 1584, a more innocent time. Captains Amadas and Barlowe had led the voyage of exploration onto this coast which smelt so sweetly … as if we had been in the midst of some delicate garden, abounding with all kind of odoriferous flowers. Ashore, the company had scrambled through woods of richly scented loblolly and live oak, where wild muscadine clung to the branches in such profusion, indeed so full of grapes, as the very beating and surge of the sea overflowed them, declared an amazed Barlowe … as were incredible to be written.6

  Clambering to the top of a sand hill, the men whooped in exultation, firing off a volley of shot. Under the bank or hill whereon we stood, we beheld the valleys replenished with goodly cedar trees, and having discharged our harquebushot, such a flock of cranes (the most part white) arose under us, with such a cry redoubled by many echoes, as if an army of men had shouted all together.7

  The Secotan came forward boldly, never making any show of fear or doubt. Granganimeo, arriving in grand state, was accompanied by forty or fifty men, very handsome and goodly people, and in their behaviour as mannerly and civil as any of Europe. As the Englishmen approached, he never moved from his place … nor never mistrusted any harm to be offered from us but, sitting still, he beckoned us to come and sit by him, which we performed Now he is dead.

  How different it was then. A year after Lane’s carnage, White humbles himself at the outskirts of Croatoan and earnestly pleads that he has come neither to fight nor seize their goods, but to live as brethren and friends: which answer seemed to please them well, and they requested us to walk up to their town.

  Croatoan

  White follows his hosts into Croatoan, guiding his small party into a world so familiar, so rich with memories. A world the colonists have seen only through his eyes and the vividness of his brush. The fact that they can be welcomed into this community, after all that has passed, is an astounding tribute to the generosity of Croatoan. They offered White friendship, and there feasted us after their manner.

  For the colonists, the release of tension is profound. After weeks of uncertainty and betrayal, despair and abandonment, this friendship at last means they are not alone. Though the prospects are bleak, the future unaltered, contact with the people of Croatoan creates an illusion that all is not lost. For both sides, it is a much-needed respite from the turmoil, a friendship amid the pain. The way life might have been.

  Nevertheless, the past intrudes: the Croatoans desired us earnestly that there might be some token or badge given them of us, whereby we might know them to be our friends when we met them anywhere out of the town or island. They told us further, that for want of some such badge, divers of them were hurt the year before, being found out of the island by Lane’s soldiers.

  To illustrate their point, White’s company is led inside a house. Across the dimly lit room they discern one of Lane’s casualties. The victim reclines on a pallet, who at that very instant lay lame, and had lain of that hurt ever since: but they said, they knew our men mistook them, and hurt them by mistake. They quietly murmured, says White, that they held us excused. There will be no more talking this day.

  August i. A conference is held. The first concern is the disposition of the Secotan towns that have been injured by Lane, specifically the people of Secota, Aquascogoc, & Pomiock. White begs his hosts to mediate in order to restore peace; willing them of Croatoan, to certify the people of those towns, that if they would accept our friendship, we would willingly receive them again, and that all unfriendly dealings past on both parts should be utterly forgiven and forgotten. To this the chief men of Croatoan answered that they would gladly do the best they could.

  Peace talks are scheduled to take place within seven days, to which the leaders of the towns are to send answer that the friendship has been accepted. Meanwhile, we also understood of the men of Croatoan that our man, Master Howe, was slain by the remnant of Wingina’s men, dwelling then at Dasamongueponke. A remnant, all that is left. Wanchese, White is informed, is still alive among them. News is had, also, of the fifteen soldiers left at Roanoak the year before by Grenville, who were suddenly set upon by 3o of the men of Secota, Aquascogoc, and Dasamonqueponke. Two soldiers were killed. The others escaped by boat, and were last reported departing from an island near Hatorask. Never seen again. The colonists conclude their business, and the same day we departed friendly.

  That the people of Croatoan can do nothing to help White is likely. Wingina is dead. A chasm of bitterness exists that cannot now be bridged. No people in the world carry more respect to their King, nobility, and governours, Barlowe had noted, than these do. Wingina is greatly obeyed, and his brothers and children reverenced. And the English killed him. Nothing can be done now for John White. The people of Croatoan know that the colonists are already dead.

  The Love That Was Between Us

  August 8, 1587. The date for reestablishing peace with the Secotan has come and gone. White, having long expected the coming of the Wiroances of Pomeiok, Aquascoquos, Secota, and Dasamonguepeuke, is disappointed, seeing that the seven days were past… and no tidings of them heard.

  What follows is one of the most horrible and inexplicable occurrences in the sequence of events thus far. Just before dawn someone orders an attack on Dasamonquepeuc in revenge for the slaying of George Howe. Captain Stafford, White, and twenty-four colonists carry it out. The action stands in sharp contrast to White’s expressed sentiments — his desire to renew the old love that was between us and to live t
ogether as brethren and friends.

  August 9. In the morning, so early that it was yet dark, the men land near Dasamonquepeuc and fan out through the woods. In the center of the town a campfire is burning with some sitting about it, and we presently set on them. The miserable souls, White laments, herewith amazed, fled to a place of thick reeds… where our men perceiving them, shot one of them through the body with a bullet. Hotly pursuing them, the Englishmen abruptly stop. For we were deceived. These are not the residents of Dasamonquepeuc, but our friends, and were come from Croatoan. The colonists have done exactly what Manteo’s town most feared. Having failed to recognize their identifying badge, they shot them.

  How did this happen? The attack flies in the face of the vastly different peace policy White had just initiated. Surely he knew the past could not be so easily forgotten, or corrected in a day! And that Howe’s death, though tragic, was a direct result of Lane’s sweeping reign of terror. Peace can hardly be accomplished by massacring a village. Nor is it likely that White, as Governor of a vulnerable and defenseless colony, would commit them and the Secotan to a never-ending spiral of murder and revenge. Even if he hoped to eliminate the remnant of Wingina’s men at Dasamonquepeuc, White had to have known that the towns of Pomeioc, Aquascogoc, and Secota would avenge them. An attack was suicide.9

  It is evident that there is more to the story. Fernandez maroons the colonists, but Stafford continues to ferry them to Croatoan and Dasamonquepeuc though not, significantly, to the Chesapeake Bay. It is Stafford who returns to England proclaiming the good news that they had arrived safely in their wished haven.10 We already suspect his involvement.

  Perhaps the sequence of events was different: George Howe is killed. Stafford, Lane’s former officer, argues for an attack as a continuance of last year’s policy.11 White, not wishing for an escalation of hostility and instead desiring peace, buys time to try his way first. Accordingly, Stafford conveys White’s delegation to Croatoan — and is present at the discussion about identifying badges.

  Nothing comes of White’s Croatoan conference. A week passes and nothing is heard from the Secotan towns. Under the circumstances, and owing to expected delays, White might reasonably have waited longer. After all, the leaders may not have come forward, but neither were there renewed hostilities. In time, White’s peaceful overtures might have smoothed things over.

  Instead, someone decides that the season of diplomacy is over. The time to defer the revenge having run out, a move is made against the remnant of Wingina’s men which were left alive. To finish the job. If Stafford were responsible, the act represents a final insurance against the colonists’ survival, negating White’s unanticipated peace efforts at Croatoan. How else could it have happened that the single fear the people of Croatoan had — to be fired on by mistake — was the very thing that occurred? That the one action calculated to alienate the colonists’ only friends at Croatoan was accomplished? We have no other explanation for so atrocious a crime. The colonists are stranded. The Spanish on Puerto Rico are notified of their presence. The Secotan are attacked. The colonists will not survive.

  No Turning Back

  There was no real hope for the colonists anyway. Fernandez prevented White from obtaining supplies in the Caribbean. They will get none from the Secotan. Ships scheduled for their resupply will bypass Roanoke and search for the colony along the Chesapeake Bay.12 Not finding it, they will give up. Nearing panic — we clearly see why — White is sent back to England for the better and sooner obtaining of supplies, and other necessaries. And to notify Raleigh of Fernandez’s betrayal. In the meantime, the colonists have no choice but to leave. They are prepared to remove from Roanoak 50 miles into the main. They are trying to survive.

  Our simple case of missing persons is far behind us, though where the colonists are must still be determined. We have established that a crime was committed: the expedition was sabotaged by someone who knew what had happened on Roanoke under Lane’s command. By someone who notified Spain via Darby Glande and ordered an attack on Dasamonquepeuc. What is now chillingly obvious is that the intended fate of the colonists was death. What we are investigating is a case of mass murder.

  Fernandez is clearly a suspect. However, in spite of the evidence stacked against him, we are left with a nagging problem: motive. Why would Fernandez deliberately sabotage a venture in which he had a part? Which would mean his death if he were convicted? And which implies a personal grudge against 117 people? There is no answer.

  What if, in fact, Fernandez had no motive? At one time, he had been a pirate and, by all accounts, one most notorious.13 Now he legally privateers. Men like Fernandez live by their wits, not by principles. Money is a strong incentive. If he actually had no vendetta against the colonists, and there is nothing to suggest that he did, we must entertain another possibility. Was he merely a hired gun? Fernandez may not be our killer after all.

  Who, then, is behind him? And protecting him? Who in England would gain from the colonists’ destruction and would like to see them stopped? Perhaps someone working for Spain. But, then, would Fernandez be involved? He began his career in Spanish service, but that was before Spain invaded Portugal and forcibly annexed the Azores, his homeland. Fernandez is Protestant, has become an English citizen, and will soon take an English wife. He is reviled by the Spaniards as a traitor and heretic. He will join the English ranks to fight against the Armada. It is not likely that he is working for someone with Spanish sympathies, or for Spain itself.

  Moreover, it is curious that Spain never found the location of the colony.14 Although tipped off by Darby Glande, it is obvious that he was unable to steer them to it, to pinpoint its location along the miles and miles of unbroken coastline. Glande was not a navigator and did not have a pilot’s map to chart his course. For his pains, he was condemned to seven years as a galley slave. Perhaps the Spaniards thought he had deceived them. Evidently whoever kidnapped Darby Glande and released him on Puerto Rico intended the action as an insurance policy, a bait. Spain grabbed it, expending great effort to discover Roanoke. Yet they are ancillaries in this picture, not principal players. Spain is not the answer.

  Perhaps the colonists’ enemy was someone with a hatred of Separatists. If our theory regarding White’s colonists were correct, someone may have thought he would do a service to the Crown by eliminating them. Yet their removal from the realm effectively put an end to any political threat they posed. So why risk a criminal prosecution by killing them?

  The colony does not appear to have been much of a threat to anybody. What was once a grave concern to Spain must now be largely academic, with the invincible Armada in the offing and England expected to fall. If Separatists, the colonists are now quietly tucked away. No need to elevate them into martyrs. There appears no plausible motive for wanting them dead. And perhaps that is precisely right…. There is no motive. By focusing on White’s colony, we may have been looking in the wrong place entirely.

  What if the killer were not after the colonists at all? What if they were only incidental victims and the real quarry was the person who would be most hurt by their failure? The person who benefited from their settling America and confirming his patent? What if the target were Sir Walter Raleigh? We must be careful what we say! For were this true — if we so much as entertain this as a possibility — then we are stumbling into something far greater than we ever imagined, and we must be bold enough to see it through.

  14 RALEIGH’S RISE TO POWER

  But envious brains do nought (or light) esteem, Such stately steps as they cannot attain. For whoso reaps renown above the rest, With heaps of hate shall surely be oppressed.

  Walter Raleigh1

  Bold as a Lion

  Raleigh was born in 1552 at Hayes Barton, in Devon, the youngest of five sons.2 His father provided a comfortable country living, though the family name had once been greater. Raleigh attended Oxford and the Inns of Court. He was bright, ambitious, energetic, possessed of a sense of destiny and a heroic no
tion of valor. With his friends, he was boisterous, often in trouble for brawling and for playing practical jokes. He was a freethinker, inquisitive, with a wide range of interests and talents. He grew to be the quintessential Renaissance man.

  June 11, 1578. Fortunes change. Raleigh’s brother, Sir Humphrey Gilbert, is granted a patent by the Queen to discover and occupy North American lands not inhabited by Spain.3 Twenty-six-year-old Raleigh and his brother Carew captain a reconnaissance mission. Raleigh’s pilot is a Portuguese pirate, a thorough-paced scoundrel, named Simon Fernandez.

  Thomas Churchyard, a friend from the West Country, learns of the venture in his usual way, by sending his son into the vendors’ stalls of St. Paul’s churchyard to overhear the gossip. As the expedition sets sail, his poem championing the exploits of Gilbert and his reckless brothers is read before Elizabeth at an entertainment:

  This strange adieu of yours doth argue noble hearts;

  And in your breasts are noble gifts, and many noble parts …

  You might have walked the streets, as other gallants do,

  Yea kept the court and country both, in Paul’s have jetted too,

  If mind had not been drawn to things of greater weight,

  And had not hearts held up your heads another kind of height.

  Perhaps in idle days, you would set men awork,

 

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