by Paul Clayton
Neither White nor Maggie said anything.
Captain Stafford looked down at Maggie while speaking to White. “The maid will surely miss yer stories, Governor.”
“Not for long,” said White, “for I shall soon return with more.”
“Of course,” said Captain Stafford. “Are yeh sure yeh need not my assistance? I could have my men bury the chests.”
“Ananias and Sir Robert’s man, Lionel, will see to it,” said White.
“Very well, sir.” Captain Stafford bowed slightly to Maggie. He walked off toward the main gate.
When he was out of earshot, Maggie said to White, “You care not for the captain, do you?”
“Nay. Nor do I trust him. He has an overabundance of fiery choler and it makes him dangerous. ‘Tis, perhaps, something that old age will temper. If he reaches an old age.
Maggie, let us walk.”
The sun had sunk close to the horizon as Maggie and Governor White walked toward the rear of the fort. White turned to Maggie, his brow etched with worry lines. “Maggie, stay well away from Stafford. He is every bit as cruel as the savages he despises.”
Maggie nodded as they came to the palisade wall.
“Shall we watch the sun set?” asked White.
“Aye, m’Lord.” They climbed the stairs and looked out over the western woods. Dim light suffused the clouds as the day’s heat dissipated.
Maggie smiled sadly. “I will miss you, m’Lord.”
White smiled. “You would not have to if you accompanied me.” Maggie looked at him in mild shock. White went on, “I need someone to cook and care for me, and Eleanor has now regained her strength.”
Maggie looked down at her feet. Nothing could get her on a ship bound for England. Never. “I am sorry, m’Lord. I cannot.”
“Very well,” said White. “Maggie, Ananias is a good man. I sent the first two of Eleanor’s suitors packing. But when I first laid eyes on Ananias I knew that he was right for Eleanor. Stay close to him and Eleanor and you will be safe here until I return.”
“Aye, m’Lord.”
White laughed bravely but she knew he still fancied her and his heart, too, was heavy. She felt a great conflict within. Despite his years, he was still a handsome man, strong and good. But he had become more like the father she had never known and that was why she could not see him as a suitor. Her own father had been slain right before her eyes when she was but a five-year-old child. It was during the Uprising, of course, and she remembered none of it. She had been told the stories much later by Uncle Seamus.
They watched the sun dip below the trees, turning the clouds a glowing coral pink.
“Maggie, when I am in England, I shall watch this sun set and think of you and Eleanor, Ananias and the others. Will you do the same for me here?”
“Aye, m’Lord. But I pray that I shan’t have to for long.”
A half-dozen drummers and as many pipers provided the music as Captain Stafford’s soldiers marched across the common in solid ranks. It was the most orderly display of soldiering Maggie or any other of the common people had seen since arriving on the island and she watched the spectacle raptly with Elizabeth, Lionel and Humphrey. The sun glared off the soldiers’ polished morion helmets and into Maggie’s eyes. Dust rose from the marchers’ feet, filling the air and gritting between her teeth. This day, two tiny babes, the Dares’ Virginia, and the Harveys’ John, and Manteo the savage, were to be baptized. Manteo was also to be appointed as Lord of Roanoke and Dasamankpeuc. There would be a bountiful meal afterward, and music and dancing. This ceremony should have occasioned joy in Maggie’s heart, but instead it saddened her. In less than two weeks’ time John White would leave for England and she would miss him grievously.
The soldiers’ forward movement ceased but they continued to march in place, their feet beating out a cadence as their clenched hands rose and fell. Elizabeth smiled at the sight. Maggie tried, but could not smile. As Governor, John White could offer her protection no one else in the colony could, but not if he were away in England. After he had offered to take her with him she had tried to convince herself to go. But thoughts of the horrid man that had tracked her and Thomas Shande to Honnin rushed in to shatter her warm reveries. Just last night she had dreamt of him. Faceless, he called her a harlot, screaming that he would kill her. Not being able to tell the governor the truth of what had happened in London, she had instead told him that she had run away from a household to escape the amorous attention of the master. John White had believed her and had laughed, telling her that if she returned with him she’d have nothing to worry about. But she had been firm in her refusal. As dangerous as this place was, she feared England worse.
The drumming came to an end and the soldiers stopped as one. Respectful silence hung in the air, punctuated by the occasional cough. The dust cloud drifted away and Ananias and Eleanor Dare ascended the platform that had been built for the occasion. Eleanor carried little Virginia, who wore a tiny gown with many bows and lacy flourishes, every bit as gilded and pretty as the Queen’s own Princess would wear. Next, Sir Robert and Margary Harvey carried their tiny babe up onto the platform. Finally, Manteo and John White mounted the platform and took their places beside the others. John White was to sponsor Manteo.
Elizabeth tapped Maggie on the arm. “Look up there!” Elizabeth pointed to the top of the ramparts where a bunch of large crows perched on the timber uprights. Maggie counted them -- thirteen. They seemed to be watching the proceedings with interest.
“Thirteen of them does not bode well, Maggie,” said Elizabeth. “If yeh had any sense at all yeh would go to England with the Governor.”
Maggie said nothing as she returned her gaze to the Dares and their baby. Elizabeth did go on a lot with her stories and Maggie had learned to take them with a grain of salt.
The drummer played a roll. At the crescendo the soldiers fired a volley and the crows squawked and took wing. Parson Lambert and the gentlemen took the stage next. The Devon gentlemen were a sight in their polished armor breastplate and helmets, their sword hilts gleaming with spit and polish. Every head in the crowd craned to get a good look at them. Parson Lambert began the Christening, but his thin voice did not carry far and Maggie only caught portions of his prayer in the hot air. She watched as Eleanor held the baby, the sunlight glinting off the baptismal water the parson streamed over little Virginia’s head. Then the Harvey child was held out for the parson to christen. Manteo’s turn came. The Croatoan was a splendid sight in his gentleman’s clothes, his long hair adorned with a single red feather. Governor White’s voice floated out over the crowd, “I present Manteo to receive the sacrament of Baptism.”
Maggie strained to hear.
“Do you desire to be baptized?” Parson Lambert asked Manteo.
“I do.”
Maggie caught bits of the ceremony. She made the responses along with the others and watched Manteo bow as Parson Lambert poured the water over his head. Afterward, Manteo knelt and White’s voice floated through the air. “I hereby appoint the Indian, Manteo, Christian citizen of the new City of Raleigh, to be the Lord of Roanoke and Dasamankpeuc and all the people thereof.”
White hung a silver chain with a brass medallion around Manteo’s neck.
Manteo got to his feet and turned to the crowd. The drums rolled again, followed by a volley. Maggie watched in fascination as Manteo walked proudly past. She saw that his medallion had a sailing ship stamped upon it.
Ananias and Eleanor made their way over to Maggie, Eleanor holding little Virginia in her arms.
“Look at that sky.”
Maggie turned. Ananias was pointing seaward. Maggie saw a black smear against the distant blue. “Thank God we’re not aboard ship anymore,” said Lionel, “with that weather coming.” As Maggie stared at the threatening sky, a sudden gust of wind whipped her hair backward. Several sailors hurried up to Governor White as he came off the platform. They talked with haste, Governor White looking over in their direction. Whe
n the sailors hurried off, Governor White came over.
“Eleanor, Ananias,” he said, “I must go now.”
Eleanor was aghast. “You were not to leave for another two weeks?”
“The masters must put to sea immediately. Otherwise the ships will be dashed onto the shore and destroyed. They can not even wait for all their sailors to be rounded up.”
Eleanor shook her head worriedly as Ananias put his arm round her in comfort.
Maggie watched as John White embraced his daughter. Eleanor held Virginia out to him and he held the child in his arms, kissing her on the head.
Overcome by the speed of events, Maggie hurried to the gate. She stopped outside with the others there and stared at the approaching storm. A short while later Governor White and three sailors approached. “Wait for me ahead,” he told the men, and then he came and stood beside Maggie.
“Maggie girl, are you sure you will not come with me?”
In amazement, Maggie considered going with the Governor. John White was old enough to be her father, but, she realized suddenly, she now knew she could be happy with such a good, kindly man. Why had she not seen this before? Then the specter of that awful man who had chased her and Thomas across half of England came to her. If she returned he would find her; she knew it, and John White would not be able to help her. She had heard that very fact in her pursuer’s braying voice.
Maggie shook her head and cast her eyes downward. “I cannot, m’Lord. But I shall pray every day for your speedy return.”
Governor White smiled kindly. “And a speedy return it shall be, I swear it.”
After the Governor and the sailors had disappeared into the woods, Maggie felt terribly alone. She looked up at the sky. The storm was approaching quickly, turning the northern sky dark. She ran toward the woods and followed the trail to the beach. White and the others were gone, their boats just specks on the water. The air grew still and cold. Above, the storm was a black, solid thing now. Errant gusts of wind whipped past her like the advance horsemen of an attacking army. She heard an eerie, mournful wail, and the stories she had heard as a child about the Banshee came to her now. She searched the blackness on the horizon, half expecting to see a skeletal hand beckoning from the storm clouds. She had made a terrible mistake. She should have gone with the kindly Governor and become his wife. She called his name and a hand grabbed her from behind. Thomas shouted over the wind, “Worry not. I will protect you now.”
She threw his hand off. “I belong to the governor now,” she lied. “He has promised to marry me upon his return.”
Thomas laughed. “Ha! He will never return.”
Maggie raged at him, tears filling her eyes, “Away with you, knave!”
Maggie saw Elizabeth coming down the trail. Her friend paused and stood off a ways. Thomas snarled at Maggie and walked off.
Elizabeth came up and put her fat, comforting arm around Maggie. They stood together against the onslaught of the wind as it pushed at them and flapped their garments. “Come on back now, Maggie. We must go inside the fort.”
A bone-cold loneliness enveloped Maggie as tears filled her eyes. They turned and began walking slowly as the wind whipped at their backs.
Manteo left the fort and entered the trees. He ran along the trail through the woods. A few minutes later he was running down the soft sand and into the surf. Governor White’s boat was gone. Manteo searched the sound, hoping to see it as it made its way to the ship. Wind-driven spray burned into his eyes and he was forced to turn away. His heart was heavy at White’s hasty departure and he felt again as he did when he was a child and his father’s lifeless body was carried into the village. Reluctantly he started back up the beach. He crouched down and his head was filled with the noise and fury of the gathering storm. Something caught his eye.
A flock of little birds flew low to the ground at ankle height as they fought the wind. They would fly a short distance then disappear into the grass to rest. Then one would go on ahead and the others follow. He watched their tortured progress, realizing that the ships would also have as mean a time of it.
Further up the beach four men watched the storm’s assault on the ships. Two had climbed up into a tree. Towaye clung tightly to a thick branch. Although he could not see that well -- a bough of broad leaves whipped wildly in his face -- he dared not take his hands from the branch for fear of being blown away. Above him, Wanchese peered out at the stormy sea, oblivious to the flying debris.
“Are the ships gone?” Towaye shouted up to him.
“All but one,” said Wanchese. “I think the wind will blow it onto the beach.”
Towaye looked down at the two braves at the base of the tree. Big Dog beckoned him to come down, signaling that someone was approaching. Towaye reached up and slapped Wanchese on the leg. “Someone comes, we must go.”
“Not yet,” said Wanchese. “If the wind delivers the English to us I will dispatch them myself.” He took his axe from his belt and gripped it firmly.
Towaye glanced below to see Big Dog signaling that the danger had passed. Towaye looked back up at Wanchese, admiring his courage. A sudden surge of wind pushed Towaye backward and he wrapped both arms tightly around the trunk.
Chapter 17
On the Hound, White wondered if they’d get the ship to sea. He held tightly to the rail at the bow, shielding his eyes with his hand. The driving rain stung smartly, but he forced himself to watch. Behind him on the fo’castle, the clackity-clack of the capstan was audible over the roar of the wind. Twelve sailors pushed round and round, four to each of the capstan’s three bars, as they raised the anchor. The little Comet had gotten away long before and had disappeared from view. The Lion was still in sight, but she appeared to be out of danger now. White watched her with envy. Sails half-rigged, she grew smaller as the fierce winds pushed her safely to sea.
White heard a loud cracking sound above the roar of wind and felt a shudder run through the wooden members of the ship. A mechanical groan followed and the capstan became a whirling blur. Bodies lay in lifeless heaps on the deck like dumped baskets of washing. White watched stunned, as four of the bodies slowly came to life, the men attempting to get to their feet. The capstan stopped its wild spinning and White saw that one of the wooden bars had snapped, allowing the machine to spin around the other two, breaking and flinging sailors about like cloth dolls.
The captain rushed over as the ship was blown backward, the deck leaning dizzily. White realized they were in grave danger of being driven onto the shoals by the fierce wind. The captain waved at him frantically.
White staggered across the heaving deck and joined the captain at the capstan. Together with four sailors they attempted to turn it and raise the anchor. But without the other men it was impossible. White could feel the shuddering as the anchor dragged along the sea bottom, the ship moving closer to shore. The captain grimaced and rushed off. He returned a moment later with an axe and severed the hawser that tied to the anchor. The ship reared backward as the captain ran to the helmsman’s shack. White grabbed the rail to steady himself and prayed to God for deliverance. He knew the treachery of these waters under the best of conditions. If they had to abandon the ship in these seas they would surely drown.
White tried to prepare himself for that possibility. The ship was tossing wildly now and he became nauseous. He leaned over the rail and vomited. The sea seemed to reach upward for him and he realized that the captain had managed to turn the ship about. He lifted his head weakly and saw the shore slipping slowly past. The wind was pushing them parallel with the land. White was sure they had drifted too close to shore however, and dreaded the sickening wrench and splintering destruction that would come at any moment. Then, instead of running aground, the ship ran fast before the wind like a frightened horse, leaving the land behind. White realized that it could only have been the intervening hand of God that had saved them. He held tightly to the rail as he made his way to the stern. He searched the shore, hoping for a glimpse of the
fort but they were already too far away. He looked forward. The wind was like a rough hand at their back now, and he prayed that the storm would not dissipate. Let it blow fiercely until it had pushed them all the way to England. Then he could conclude his business and quickly return.
September 9, 1587. Roanoke
Under a lead-gray sky, a blustery wind drove the little shallop through the choppy waters of the sound. Sir Robert sat in the stern, his face wet with salt water spray, as he watched Mister Smedley and the soldiers assigned to help him slowly feed out the heavy fishing net. Above, the shroud lines seemed to thrum with excitement as the last of the net disappeared over the gunnels. A moment later the mast groaned as the unseen net billowed out below and behind the boat, slowing them like an invisible hand. Sir Robert had a spasm of shivering as a blast of air buffeted his wet clothes. He silently cursed the elements as he stared overboard into the dark green waters. He wondered how many fish they would catch. Plenty, he hoped, for there was no telling when White would return with their supplies.
Again the wind-whipped salty spray assaulted him and Robert suffered another spasm of shivering. A week earlier two men had wrestled a sturgeon, as long as a man is tall, to shore. Each family got a healthy cut, and Robert’s mouth watered at the memory of the fish’s thick meat-like flesh.
Robert felt a burning in his head. He now had the fever like so many of the others. Fortunately Margary and baby John were still healthy. He stared miserably into the water as he half listened to two of the soldiers talking about something they spied in the distance. The waters of the sound were full of fish, many of them coming close inshore, but the blasted savages kept wrecking their fish weirs in the dark of night. Despite putting guards out, no one had managed to catch them at it. And, of course, there was Howe’s cruel murder whilst he was catching crabs. And so Robert had managed to convince the Devonian Assistants to let him use the shallop to fish in the sound. And they had ordered Mister Smedley to construct a fishing net. It had taken him several weeks and had used up much of their precious rope, but hopefully all that work would now pay off.
