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

by Paul Clayton

  “Maggie, would you bare your breasts? I would love to paint you thus.”

  “M’Lord, surely this gown is pretty enough?”

  “Not as pretty as you, girl.”

  Maggie’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “M’Lord, I could never…”

  White laughed. “Maggie, many high-born ladies in London have been painted thus. I know because I have painted a few myself. Although none so fair as you.”

  Maggie shook her head nervously. “What if someone should see me? What would they think?”

  White smiled at her fear. “No one will know, girl. Just you and I.”

  Maggie began crying softly. “I cannot, m’Lord.”

  White smiled sadly and put down his brush. “Forget I asked, child. You can go now. I will clean up myself.”

  Maggie went behind the screen to change.

  July 17, 1587. Roanoke

  Three weeks of good sailing brought the little fleet to the barrier islands of Virginia. The Lion anchored off Hatarask to pick up the men left on Roanoke by Sir Richard Grenville. The day dawned fresh and warm as Ananias Dare and Governor White leaned on the rail and stared at the green jewel of Roanoke Island, visible beyond the sandy expanse of Hatarask. Sir Robert came up and joined them at the rail. Just below, a dozen or so soldiers were climbing into the longboats to be rowed ashore

  “‘Tis quite different from Santa Cruz,” said Ananias.

  “Aye,” said White.

  “How much more sailing to Chesapeake?” Sir Robert asked.

  “Two, three days,” said White, “depending on the winds.”

  “Is it like this?” said Sir Robert, as a cool breeze washed over them.

  “Very much so,” said White, “and there is a huge, deep water bay. Soon we will begin building our city there.”

  White turned to his son-in-law. “You will be a busy man, Ananias, making your bricks and tiles.”

  The thought pleased Ananias. He and Eleanor and their child would have a good life in this place, his father-in-law had assured them. And now as he looked out upon the garden-like beauty of this New World, he believed it with his whole heart. “Aye,” he said. “I look forward to it.”

  A dull thud came from the hull beneath them, followed by a command. “Push off.” Oars dipping rhythmically into the sea, the two longboats moved away from the ship and toward the channel. The soldiers were unusually quiet as they sat facing forward, their breastplate and comb morion helmets gleaming brightly in the morning light. Ananias and the other two men watched their progress.

  “And so it begins,” said Sir Robert.

  “Aye,” said John White, as the two boatloads of soldiers drew closer to the channel. “Those soldiers will be the bricks in our new city’s walls.”

  Ananias smiled at his father-in-law’s reference to his trade.

  John White went on, “We, and the Assistants, and Captain Stafford and his officers are the timbers. But the most important building material is discipline and loyalty.”

  “And faith in God,” said Ananias.

  “Aye,” said John White, “faith, discipline, order, loyalty… that is the mortar which will hold it all together.”

  Sir Robert looked at Ananias and smiled a fatherly smile. “Well put, eh?”

  “Aye,” said Ananias, “in words dear to my own heart.” He turned to his father-in-law. “I go to Eleanor now. Godspeed.”

  Chapter 9

  John White and Sir Robert climbed down the side of the ship and stepped into the shallop for the trip to Roanoke. Twenty-three feet long, with oars, mast and sail, the shallop had been towed behind the Hound. The shallop’s shallow draft would permit it to enter the channel and sail without danger in the shallow sounds and bays between the barrier islands and the mainland.

  Sir Robert took a seat and White remained standing in the gently rocking boat to get a better look at the island. “I wonder where are William Morton and his fifteen men,” White said.

  “They might be inland,” said Sir Robert, “trading with the savages.”

  “Aye,” said White hopefully. “That would explain why they did not greet our arrival yesterday. White had ordered a signaling barrage after the ships anchored, but there had been no response.

  As the shallop drew to within sight of the breakers foaming on either side of the channel, the helmsman ordered the sailors to ship their oars. White and Sir Robert stood and watched the churning brown water.

  “It boils like soup,” said Sir Robert.

  “Aye,” said White, without commenting further. He knew well the dangers of the channels between the barrier islands. He had seen one of Governor Lane’s boats capsize there with the loss of all aboard.

  The helmsman stood, and with another sailor, stepped the mast and hoisted sail. Beneath sunny skies, a strong, landward wind drove the little shallop forward briskly, providing optimum control to the helmsman.

  They soon passed swiftly through the channel and into the calmer waters of the sound. White called to one of Stafford’s men in the prow. “Fire your musket to signal Captain Stafford.”

  The soldier stood and leveled his long musket, aiming at the empty waters of the sound. The musket erupted, sending up a distant plume of water, which the wind immediately whisked away.

  Shortly afterward the shallop ground upon the sandy beach of Roanoke Island. Captain Stafford and his soldiers came out of the trees to meet them. White worriedly looked around at the familiar beaches and forest of the island. He had given orders that no colonists were to be landed. He and the soldiers would simply pick up the men that Sir Richard Grenville had left here, and then they would be on their way north to Chesapeake.

  White led Stafford and the others along the now-overgrown path through the woods. When they came out of the woods, White could see that things were not right. He called a halt and the men looked around, listening quietly. The two small cottages that Governor Lane had originally built just outside the palisaded walls of the fort were run down and seemingly deserted. And Fort Raleigh was ghostly quiet. A dozen or so of the timber uprights of the palisade had fallen down and the gates hung open.

  White motioned to Captain Stafford. “Let us go in.”

  “On yer guard, men,” Stafford called out as the soldiers advanced slowly through the gates. Inside the fort, no smoke or smell of fires greeted them; no laundry moved in the breeze; no laughter or rough, soldierly cursing reached their ears.

  Governor White held up his hand and the column halted. He frowned, looking round in puzzlement. He turned to Captain Stafford, “You take half the men and I’ll take the other half. We will make a thorough search of the perimeter and meet in the middle of the back wall.”

  Stafford nodded silently and took his men off.

  White and Sir Robert led the remaining soldiers off in the opposite direction. At the seaward side of the fort they climbed the gentle slope of the earthworks. They came upon eight guns overturned and rusting. Five of them were still loaded with shot.

  As White looked out at the green thickness of the forest, Sir Robert came up to stand beside him. “They could have made their way to Chesapeake,” he said.

  White nodded absently, thinking of another grim possibility as he recalled the fury of Governor Lane’s attack on the Roanokes.

  Sir Robert rolled one of the guns over with his foot. “I suppose they could not carry these overland.”

  “Aye,” said White. “Without powder they’re good for naught but boat anchors.”

  “Look,” called a soldier.

  One of Stafford’s men ran across the flat, weed-filled expanse of the fort’s common. He stopped before the timber house, which had served as Governor Lane’s headquarters in the first colony and waved to them. White, Sir Robert, and the others hurried over. Just behind the big house Captain Stafford’s men stood in a rough circle. Inside, Stafford knelt as he examined something. White and Sir Robert pushed through the men. A skeleton lay in the supine, stretching out its bony fingers as if reachin
g in vain for something, perhaps a weapon. It was naked except for the tattered remnants of a shirt of faded blue indigo. The skull was smashed as if a giant’s boot had been laid down upon it. White and Sir Robert knelt beside Captain Stafford, who was examining the corpse.

  “An Englishman?” asked Sir Robert.

  “Aye,” said White.

  “Why the mutilation?” asked Sir Robert. “Why did they smash his head like that?”

  “It is a second murder,” said White.

  “I do not understand,” said Sir Robert.

  White went on. “The savages believe that after they’ve killed their enemies, smashing the skull like that will keep them out of their afterworld. Without a head, and the thinking that goes on inside it, the dead cannot make their way from this world to the next.”

  Captain Stafford scoffed. “Cursed heathens!” He got to his feet.

  White stood. “Later we will have the men give him a decent burial. Let us leave the fort and take a look at the outer cottages.”

  White sensed the tenseness of the soldiers as they left the security of the fort. There was no talking or joking as they walked across the field toward the cottages and the forests beyond. The cottages were small and A-shaped, made of wattle and daub with thatched roofs. Each had a little fenced in yard and garden. The sight of them was eerie, making the Englishmen feel as if, in the blinking of an eye they had been transported back to some abandoned farming shire north or west of London.

  As White and the others drew close to the nearest cottage, they heard a dull, wooden whack of sound. They stopped, the soldiers quietly kneeling to aim their muskets. White and Sir Robert looked about suspiciously. White pointed out a wooden shutter moving slightly in the breeze. It slapped shut woodenly, then swung open. The men got slowly to their feet. White called to Stafford. “You and I will go inside with six of the men. Leave the rest on guard outside.”

  Stafford nodded and gave the men their orders. He went to the head of the little column and they silently entered the first cottage. The parlor was bare of any furniture and weeds and vines pushed up from the dirt floor halfway to the high ceiling. Only the plastered walls had withstood the assault by nature.

  Stafford shook his head as the soldiers looked about, their faces tense. “It does not look as if Morton and his men are off exploring the next shire.”

  “Indeed,” said White, “no one has been in here for some time.”

  A slight rustling sound came from the next room. The six soldiers pointed their muskets at the darkened doorway. Stafford put his finger to his lips. He pulled his sword and crept forward, White and the soldiers following him.

  ***

  Aboard the Lion, Eleanor Dare was attempting to rest. The baby had been kicking her all morning, as if in anticipation of their soon arriving at Chesapeake. A loud knock came upon the door. Maggie rushed to open it. A hideous-looking, bearded sailor, his teeth broken and blackened, stared in at Eleanor, setting her heart to racing. The man spoke to her directly, ignoring Maggie.

  “Get yer things packed up now,” he said. “Yer going ashore.”

  Ananias heard and came over to stand at the door. Eleanor got to her feet and stood behind him.

  “We are not to disembark until we reach Chesapeake,” said Ananias. “That was Governor White’s orders.”

  The sailor’s face quivered with indecision as he looked from Ananias to Eleanor. He scowled at Ananias. “Get yer things up on deck or leave them behind for me and me boys.”

  “Upon whose orders?” demanded Ananias.

  “Master Fernandes’ orders,” snarled the man. He hurried off.

  Eleanor recalled what Ananias had told her about what had happened in this place just before the English soldiers had evacuated. She took Ananias’s arm worriedly. “Husband, can this be right?”

  Ananias shook his head. “I know not.”

  Eleanor spotted Margary Harvey coming down the passageway. Lionel Fisher, whose passage had been paid for by the Harveys, and who was indentured to them, followed along behind her, carrying her trunk.

  “My Lady,” Eleanor exclaimed.

  “God give you, dear girl,” said Margary Harvey.

  Eleanor’s head suddenly filled with thoughts of savages and fighting and she had to sit to calm herself.

  “My Lady,” Ananias said, “They have told you also?”

  Margary Harvey paused and nodded. “We only heard just now. You all had better come.” She hurried off.

  “Aye,” said Ananias. He turned to Maggie. “Maggie, see to the packing, please. And pack only those things which the two of you can easily carry. I will come back for the heavier things. But first I must go and find Sir George and see what this is all about.”

  As Maggie turned to her task, Ananias knelt to Eleanor. “Worry not, love. There must be a good explanation for this. I will see you on the above-decks.”

  Ananias came up on deck to a great bustle of movement and noise. The shouts of sailors and the creaking of winches assailed his ears as bundles and boxes were hurriedly lowered down into waiting longboats. Families already stood about in groups, their bags clutched tightly beside them. Ananias spotted Sir George Howe and his son standing at the rail and went over to them.

  Sir George turned as Ananias came up.

  “We were not supposed to disembark here,” said Ananias.

  Sir George nodded. “Indeed. That is what I thought. But Fernandes said that he has since received word from Governor White to have all come ashore for a rest before going on to Chesapeake.”

  “Ah!” said Ananias with relief, “so, a rest it is. For how long?”

  “Only a few days.”

  Ananias looked at the distant shore. His father-in-law’s tale of what had last happened here made him loath to take Eleanor ashore. But, he reasoned, if Governor White had given the order, then he must have assured himself of their safety. Ananias turned and went back down to help Eleanor and Maggie with their things.

  The movement of the ship and the shifting sight of the island made Eleanor light-headed as the sailors helped her down into the shallop. Ananias and Sir George took her arms and helped her make her way to the center, where she sat. Maggie climbed down next, as light and agile as a boy. She sat next to her friend, Elizabeth and Elizabeth’s man friend, Ol’ Jack. God’s sunshine shone down beautifully and Eleanor told herself that all would be well. Her father would not have ordered them ashore if there were any danger. Ananias took his seat beside her and she felt his quiet strength about her like a warm cloak.

  The people were in good spirits, happy to be finally getting off the ships, if only for a few days of rest. The two savages, Manteo and Towaye, were the last to climb down into the boat. They seated themselves in the prow and the ropes were released, the boat drifting away from the ship.

  The wind had died and six sailors pulled at the oars, their faces set with effort as the helmsman sang a ditty. The shallop moved slowly toward land, riding smoothly up and down the powerful swells. The little baby inside her seemed to be lulled by the movement of the waves and Eleanor was again at peace. God would protect and provide.

  The roar of the surf increased as they neared the breakers. Eleanor craned her head and saw with relief that there was a soldier standing on the low sandy island, a red pennant upon a pike planted in the sand beside him. Ananias turned to her and smiled. The helmsman turned the boat slightly, heading in. The sailors settled into a strong rhythm, driving the boat forward at a good clip. A wave rose up behind them and Eleanor felt a ticklish twinge in her belly as the baby thrilled to the ride. The wave raced past them and they seemed to slide backward. No one spoke.

  The helmsman called out. “Here it comes, boys. Now, pull! Pull strong and steady.”

  Maggie smiled bravely at her mistress, Eleanor, as a large wave rose up behind them. Like her mistress, she had heard only that morning that waters in the narrow channel opening were extremely turbulent, and several boats had been lost there in years past. The
hiss of the sea increased to a roar as the back of the boat tilted upward. The wave seemed to hoist them high on unseen shoulders as the oarsmen pulled their oars from the water. Maggie’s hair moved in the wind and her stomach was aflutter as they raced for the land. No one moved and all eyes were tense, everyone staring straight ahead. One wrong move by the oarsmen or the helmsman, Elizabeth had told her earlier, and the boat could flip, throwing them into the powerful surf to be sucked mercilessly to the bottom. Maggie’s heart throbbed in her chest. Manteo the savage suddenly and inexplicably got to his feet, the wind whipping his long hair about. Several people groaned in fear and a sailor reached out to grab him. The helmsman called out, “Leave him be.”

  Manteo climbed onto the prow, standing full like the figurehead on a ship as the boat raced for the beach like a thing possessed. Manteo threw back his head and screamed out a wild cry. The hair on Maggie’s neck stood on end, for it was not a savage war cry, but rather a triumphant cry of joy, Maggie realized. Perhaps the savage saw the wave as a huge, magnificent beast tethered to the boat, and he was urging it on. If he’d had a whip he would have lashed it.

  The boat began to vibrate with energy and Maggie’s pulse raced. Would they capsize? The bottom of the boat thumped as if all the poor souls who had ever drowned in the sea were now below, pounding on it in their rage. The boat shot between sharp-looking black rocks, through agitated seas that leapt and slapped at their sides, and sand-colored whirlpools that gurgled hungrily.

  The helmsman called softly, “Thomas, Brandon, pull a little now… ”

  The two men on the right shipped their oars and pulled.

  “Aye, that’s it lads.” The helmsman’s hand moved the tiller almost imperceptibly as Maggie held her breath. The soldier on the bar was suddenly visible, waving triumphantly as they passed safely into the channel. The oarsmen lay their oars back into the water as the helmsman got to his feet and bowed theatrically. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we have arrived. Welcome to Port Fernandes.”

  Maggie’s face was flushed with excitement and joy at having landed safely on the shore as Ananias and Sir George helped her and Eleanor out of the shallop. Maggie noted that Eleanor was sweating and pale from the excitement of the boat ride and slowly led her through the thick sand to a spot of shade beneath a pine tree. Again Maggie marveled at the girth of Eleanor’s belly. Surely the baby would come soon.