White Seed: The Untold Story of the Lost Colony of Roanoke

by Paul Clayton

  “But how will they make their way to the nether world from beneath the sea?” said Towaye.

  “Christian people go not to the same nether world as Croatoan heathens. They go to a better place called Heaven. I will have you speak with the parson. He will tell you how it is.”

  Towaye scoffed angrily. “He will not tell me anything, for I will not go near him.”

  Manteo and Towaye watched as the English tied the second white shrouded body up tightly. The parson knelt at the dead man’s side and prayed. The others folded their hands and bowed their heads, joining him. The soldiers threw the bundle over the side. When the splash reached their ears, the English people got to their feet and started back down into the belly of the ship.

  “They are through for the day,” said Manteo.

  “Perhaps,” said Towaye, “perhaps we are all through.”

  Manteo smiled. Something made him look up at the enormous, lifeless shapes of the sails. It seemed as if the larger of them had bowed out slightly. For a moment Manteo was not sure if he had seen this or if it was the hot air playing tricks on his eyes. He watched as the sail suddenly bulged out like the belly of a gentleman and a spar creaked woodenly. The English people stopped in their tracks and looked up. All the sails filled and the ship began moving forward, groaning as if in pain.

  Manteo smiled. Over in the crowd of English, the parson fell to his knees and looked skyward, his lips moving in prayer.

  “I told you they were sacrificing to their wind god,” said Towaye. “He has accepted their sacrifice and now he will blow the ship to Roanoke.”

  Chapter 7

  June 22, 1587. Santa Cruz Island, in the Caribbean Sea

  The stink aboard the Lion threatened to sicken John White as he climbed the stairs to the deck. Coming out into the sun, White breathed the perfume of tropical flowers and the sweet scent of earth deep into his lungs. He could taste the earth on his tongue as he carefully climbed down into the longboat riding the swells alongside the Lion. Sirs Robert Harvey and George Howe helped him to his seat. White glanced briefly at the longboat’s passengers, then stared off at the green expanse of Santa Cruz Island. After weeks of being assaulted by rolling, mountainous gray waves, then more of baking upon becalmed blue-glass seas, it had seemed as if they’d never see land again. Now, the bright green trees and mud brown cliffs held his eyes compellingly, a salve to his soul.

  White nodded to the oarsmen and the longboat moved away from the Lion. After a while White looked back at the ship. Manteo and Towaye stood at the rail, watching them. The two Indians had refused to leave the ship. White could understand Towaye’s refusal. He had never been completely civilized in England and still expected the worst from the English at every turn. But Manteo’s refusal had surprised White. When pressed, both Indians had maintained a stoic, stony silence, but White suspected they feared being abandoned on this island so very far from either their native Virginia or England.

  White turned away from the ship and looked at the others in the boat. Young Maggie, her older woman friend, and a dozen other men, women and children, talked excitedly, cheered by the sight of the island. They would be the first to go ashore, but the others would soon follow. White had made the crossing from England to Virginia four times already, and he thought sadly how this one, with women and children aboard, had been the most hellish. Fortunately only one of the women had died on the crossing, but twelve men had succumbed. After they were established at Chesapeake he would write Raleigh requesting more families for the colony. There were far too many unattached men among them and that caused him worry. Many, ‘twas said, had been let out of prison by Raleigh to fill out the ranks. True or not, they certainly acted the dregs of English society, and it would take a strong hand indeed to control them.

  Fernandes’ eyes met White’s and the Portuguese glowered and looked away. White’s anger at the man for his abandonment of the Hound and the Comet off of Portugal returned briefly, but he put it aside for the moment. Fruit and game had to be collected, and water found, to make up for the supplies they had wasted while lying becalmed. White had decided to wait a month on the island for the other two ships. They carried most of the colony’s supplies and the Hound towed the sturdy shallop that would stay with them when the ships returned to England. When they were finally settled White would send a letter back to Raleigh containing his account of the swaggering Portuguese navigator’s egregious conduct, and his wish that he be punished severely.

  The oarsmen pulled powerfully and the longboat drew closer to the island. White stood and raised his hand, signaling a pause. The oarsmen used their oars to keep the boat pointed to shore. White searched the white sand beach for signs of Captain Stafford and his men. Earlier, at dawn, two boatloads of soldiers had been landed to secure the landing area and search out the jungle heights. Now the sun was directly overhead; time for their rendezvous.

  Sir Robert stood and joined White in his scrutiny of the island. The tall, dignified-looking gentleman’s brow furrowed. “There,” he said, “by that big tree.”

  Squinting in the bright sunlight, White spotted a dozen soldiers standing near the tree line. One of them held the leads of Captain Stafford’s three mastiffs. Captain Stafford could be seen waving his jaunty felt cap with its bright red feather, signaling that all was safe.

  “It seems,” said Sir Robert, “that they have found no evidence of Spaniards.”

  “Aye,” said White, “but we must still be on our guard. There could be savages.”

  “What tribe?” said Sir Robert.

  “Tainos, perhaps,” said White. “But Caribs are still to be found in these islands. Unrepentant cannibals, they are also fierce fighters.”

  “Caribs? Tainos?” laughed Fernandes disdainfully. “There are no savages here, Senor White. I have already told you the island is uninhabited.”

  White ignored the prideful navigator, watching instead as Captain Stafford and his men waded into the surf to meet them.

  “Remember,” White said to the anxious-looking common people, “stay together. No wandering off alone.”

  Fernandes laughed contemptuously. “Caribs…

  White glared at him. “Take us in.”

  The oarsmen dug their oars into the gentle, blue swells and the longboat moved toward the shore. Soon White and the other men were waist deep in the warm water, helping the women and children out onto the sand. Several women sank to their knees, crying in relief. Others laughed with joy and the children raced and played happily in the warm water and sand. Parson Lambert knelt and led everyone in the Lord’s Prayer.

  White got to his feet and motioned to Captain Stafford. The Captain came over a little too slowly, White thought. His assistant brought the excited dogs along. White knew that Captain Stafford did not like taking orders from him, especially after having served the first governor of Virginia, Governor Lane, as second in command, while White had served as the recording artist. White thought with disgust of Stafford’s taking of Wingina’s head. ‘Twas his and Lane’s heavy handedness that had forced Raleigh to abandon Roanoke as a site for the colony. All their work there had been in vain, because, doubtless, the local Indians were still enraged.

  “Leave a group of your men here,” White said to the captain, “and have them begin preparing shelters up past the tide line. And send a party out for water.” White pointed to the common men. “Use some of these lads. Send another gang out to hunt up some game. You and the rest come with Sirs Robert Harvey, George Howe and I.” White indicated the rise of the island. “I would like to climb to explore the highlands.”

  Whatever disdain Captain Stafford may have felt for John White, an artist, raised up to the status of a gentleman by Sir Walter, he tactfully kept to himself. “Very well, Governor,” he said.

  Stafford turned to his men, issuing orders. They moved into the jungle, the mastiffs barking noisily in savage celebration of the earthy smells. Deep quiet replaced the crash and sigh of the surf. Under the thick canopy of
leaves, White, Harvey and Howe plodded wordlessly along a jungle trail in the middle of a file of soldiers. The heat was overwhelming and the climb steep. Their breathing was loud and labored and the soldiers swung their swords at leaves and vines raising a click and clatter. Not far away, one of the mastiffs howled. A musket boomed and White and the others crouched down. “Savages!” someone exclaimed. The soldiers passed the warning down the line as they stared out into the foliage, searching for movement.

  White turned to Harvey and Howe. “Let us go to the front and see.” They hurried at a crouch past the grim-faced soldiers. White spotted Captain Stafford’s jaunty red-feathered cap off to the side of the trail. The mastiffs barked threateningly as Captain Stafford and two of his soldiers looked down at something. White pushed past them. Four Indians squatted on the ground, three women and an old man. They regarded the dogs with terror. The women were small of build, naked but for wrap-around skirts and the man wore a loincloth. White-haired, with his skin creased and browned by the tropical sun, he looked ancient as did one of the women, also white-haired, with brown skin and long, pendulous breasts. The two other women were young, one barely out of girlhood.

  “Get the dogs out of here,” said White.

  Stafford’s handler wrestled the dogs away and back down the trail.

  Fernandes came up beside White to stare down at the Indians.

  White turned to him. “No Indians on the island, eh?”

  Fernandes scowled.

  Captain Stafford turned to White. “They come from a village at the other end of the island. They indicated that there are twenty people living there, and that they only come for the summer.”

  White nodded.

  “They have probably come over to harvest turtle eggs,” said Fernandes, “‘tis not a permanent settlement, I am sure.”

  White said nothing.

  “We should go and see how many there really are,” said Stafford. “Especially now that they know we are on the island.”

  “Tomorrow,” said White.

  “But they could be lying, there might be . . .”

  “Tomorrow, Captain,” said White. “Wait until tomorrow when we have more men and arms ashore.”

  Stafford nodded almost imperceptibly.

  “Send a runner back to tell those on the beach what has happened,” White continued, “so they know that we are all right. You and your men will continue on with me to the top. After I make my sketches we will go back down.”

  Stafford did not look at White. “Aye, Governor.”

  White and the others reached the top of the island in a little over an hour, coming out of the jungle into a little clearing near a cliff. The beach stretched away in both directions and the Lion sat placidly at anchor about a league out. White moved closer to the gently rounded cliff with the two gentlemen, Harvey and Howe. They scanned the horizon. Nothing but blue sea and sky with an occasional wisp of cloud was visible.

  Fernandes came up behind them. “This is a great lookout, Senor White,” he said. “You will want to station a man up here round the clock to spot any passing Spanish prizes.”

  “Prizes, Master Fernandes?” said Sir Robert, pinning the navigator with his piercing eyes. “Surely you are not thinking of running off after prizes and leaving us to wait for you on this island?”

  “I have letters of reprisal to take three ships,” said Fernandes.

  White turned to him. “Aye. After my people and I are put ashore at Chesapeake and not before!”

  Fernandes glared at White. “Of course, Señor,” he said, turning on his heels.

  White watched one of the longboats as it made its way across the blue water toward the beach.

  “Can you trust him?” said Sir Robert.

  “Of course not,” said White. “That is why I have already instructed Captain Stafford to watch him.”

  “And can you trust Captain Stafford?” said Sir George.

  “What do you mean?” said White.

  “Take a look,” said Sir George, turning slightly. White and Harvey turned to see Captain Stafford and Fernandes talking quietly at the trailhead. Upon seeing them, Fernandes walked away sullenly.

  The sight of the two men conversing quietly did indeed bother White, but he did not want to appear to be threatened by it. “Captain Stafford’s orders come directly from Raleigh,” he said, “so there is no need to worry.”

  “Aye,” said Sir Robert. “Captain Stafford is a good lad. He knows his place.”

  Sir George frowned. “Very well. I shall have to do the worrying for the both of you, for something is going on between these two men. I am sure of it.” He turned back to look at the sea.

  ***

  Maggie could still feel the rolling movement of the ship in her sleep as she lay on the sandy beach. She heard calm, unworried voices and sweet laughter. Footsteps crunched close by. The sounds slowly coaxed her out of her deep sleep. She opened her eyes, knowing that she was on land, and that comforted her after so many days of incessant movement and the occasional terrors of the sea. She placed both hands on the sand and thrilled in the solid feel of it as she pushed herself up to sit. Still in a stupor, she stared at the gentle white combers racing toward them across the blue sea. She was in the shade of a large palm. Overhead the palm fronds made a clacking clatter as they moved in a breeze. A small creek ran out of a nearby marsh, but its water was salty and foul tasting. Elizabeth and her man, Ol’ Jack, lay sleeping together on one side of Maggie, Humphrey next to them, his ball clutched to him. The rest of the women and children from the ship sat in clusters about them. Eleanor Dare and her attentive husband, Ananias sat about twenty feet away with the gentlefolk.

  Earlier, Thomas, Lionel and about twenty other men had been divided up into two groups and sent off with a contingent of soldiers to look for water and game. Ol’ Jack, despite Elizabeth’s ministrations, was still too weak to work and had been allowed to remain behind with the women.

  The shade and cool sea breezes soothed Maggie. The sand was warm and comfortable. She would have been completely happy if not for the burning hunger and thirst now reawakening in her belly. She tried to ignore it. After all, most of their ordeal was over. The Governor had told her that they had only another two weeks sailing up the coast before they would arrive at Chesapeake Bay.

  Maggie overheard Eleanor ask, “Husband, when will they bring the victuals from the ship?”

  Ananias shook his head worriedly as he looked at the sea. “They should have put out a boat by now.”

  Maggie looked at Eleanor’s girth as she sat, legs spread, in the sand. Eleanor was only one year older than she, but their relative stations in life made a huge gulf between them. Luckily Eleanor was a kind sort. Despite the child she carried, and all the attendant pain and discomfort, she had never been cross or mean to Maggie.

  Eleanor noticed Maggie watching her and smiled, then winced at a pain her baby evidently caused her. The baby would not be long in coming.

  Nearby, Paulina, a big-boned, heavyset serving girl, cradled her sleeping two-year-old boy on her ample lap. Maggie had heard from the other women that Paulina knew not the boy’s father, and that she was again with child, although she did not yet show. ‘Twas also put about that she had two girls back in England that she had left behind with her mother. Maggie thought of what had earlier happened on the ship and vowed never to let herself be in that position. ‘Twas after the ship had anchored. Eleanor had gone up on deck to take the breeze and Maggie was alone cleaning when Governor White came in. Closing the door behind him, he had acted surprised not to find Eleanor there. Maggie suspected, however, that he knew she would not be. Governor White then began going through one of his chests, looking for something. Maggie continued working with her back to him.

  The hairs on her neck rose and she felt a tension in the room. He called her, and when she turned he gave her such a look of longing that it frightened her.

  “You have a great natural beauty,” he said.

  “Than
k you, m’Lord,” she had said.

  He appraised her with a quick glance. “I would like to paint you some time.”

  Maggie’s heart began pounding and she’d felt trapped like a rat. She knew she had nothing to fear from the Governor, but she could not still her heart. ‘Twas the cooper’s attack on her that caused her such feelings now, she realized, but that knowledge did not allay her discomfort. At that moment a bunch of sailors passed by outside singing a drunken ditty and she took advantage of the diversion they caused to make an excuse and slip out of the cabin.

  “Pease porridge and biscuits,” said Paulina to no one in particular, bringing Maggie out of her reverie, “as sick as I am of pease porridge and biscuits, I’d eat my weight in it now.”

  Elizabeth awoke. She caressed Ol’ Jack’s head, and then looked out to sea. “Pease porridge and biscuits sounds good to me too, girl,” she said. She got wearily to her feet. “I’ll go ask Goliath.”

  Maggie watched her walk across the hot sand toward the Sergeant. He was a giant of a man, broad shouldered, standing close to seven foot in height. One of the gentlemen had taken to calling him Goliath and that was what everyone now called him. He turned heads wherever he appeared and the children followed him at a distance. A lush gray beard covered his big face and he wore a comb helmet. The sight of him standing commandingly on the sunny beach, his halberd planted in the sand beside him, reassured Maggie. Now that they were finally ashore, the stories of savages and cannibals she had heard on the ship had returned to worry her.

  The exchange between Elizabeth and Goliath took place too far away for Maggie and the others to hear. Elizabeth walked back shaking her head. “The big ox knows not a thing.”

  Maggie spotted men walking up the beach. Four of them carried two hogsheads suspended from poles. Maggie recognized one of the men as Lionel. Two soldiers brought up the rear.

  “Water!” shouted Elizabeth. “They have brought water!”

  People crowded around the men as they sat the hogsheads down in the shade. A soldier opened one and quickly poured out the cool water into the outstretched cupped hands of the people. Afterwards, the people sat back down in the shade.