Cate of the Lost Colony

by Lisa Klein

  On the 25th of May the Hopewell and John Evangelist came to Cape Tiburon, where we expected to meet the Santo Domingo fleet laden with riches for Spain. We rescued two Spanish castaways from a shore scattered with the bones of others who had perished there. Though we pressed them they had no knowledge of the fleet. The John Evangelist sighted a frigate and easily took her; she carries hides, ginger, copper pans, and cassava.

  On the 2nd of July we made contact with the Moonlight and her escort ship. With the prizes taken, our fleet of ships now totals eight. The same day we sighted fourteen ships of the Santo Domingo fleet and gave chase, losing them in the darkness. In the morning, finding them near again, the Hopewell poured shot in the starboard side of the rearmost ship until its captain raised the flag of surrender. Newport, in the Little John, continued to chase the Spanish fleet.

  With Cooke I boarded our prize, the 300-ton El Buen Jesus of Seville. Spent two days rummaging through her cargo and fitting her to sail with us. Sweet is the pride of such a conquest. How England is magnified when her enemy is brought low!

  Returned to the Hopewell and John White’s demands that we sail at once for Roanoke. I reminded him our share of the profits and pirated goods would provide the means to relieve the colonists. I urged him not to anger Capt. Cooke, in whom I discerned a reluctance to abandon this lucrative business, despite his agreement to take us to Virginia.

  Close upon our success with the El Buen Jesus, came misfortune as Capt. Newport lost 24 men and his own right arm in a desperate battle. The ship he captured was so damaged that it sank before it was unladen, taking with it thirteen casks of silver. Thus defeated, injured, and with a scant force of seamen, Newport and the Little John returned to England.

  For six days we drifted, becalmed, the sun unbearably hot. The Spanish castaways pestered us to such an extreme that we left them on Cuba. A week later we sighted the cape of Florida to our west, and on the 30th of July bore out to sea to catch the swifter current for Virginia.

  Now my mind is alive with anticipation of a prize soon to be my own. What good to me is a galleon stuffed with plunder? Let it sink to the bottom of the sea! The treasure I seek cannot be bought, sold, or bargained for.

  Poem

  To seek new worlds of gold, for glory

  And for praise I once aspired;

  But now my care is all love’s story

  Her favor, the wealth that I desire.

  And so I prove that love, though severed far,

  Means more to me than a thousand ships of war.

  I touch my ear, where now hangs a silver ring taken from a Spaniard. In my pocket is the handkerchief the queen gave me. I will give them to her and say, “Catherine, I have come at last.”

  But will I still know her? Will she remember me?

  From the 1st of August the weather turned foul, with rain, thunder, and waterspouts breaking over the ship. We kept to sea because of the risk of being wrecked upon the shoals.

  On the 16th the Hopewell, Moonlight, and El Buen Jesus anchored near Hatorask, and on the 17th the captains, John White, and I set out in the longboats. Then, a tragedy! The NE wind, blowing in gales, gathered at the inlet, buffeting Capt. Spicer’s boat ahead of us. As the steersman struggled to hold his course, a mighty wave overturned the boat and cast her sailors into the perilous waters. Four of the men swam to safety but the other seven, including the brave Capt. Spicer, perished.

  The loss brought White to tears, for Spicer had been his loyal companion through many setbacks. Also, five of those who perished had kin at Roanoke, whom they intended to join.

  After witnessing the deadly mishap, the seamen in Cooke’s boat were of one mind: not to go any farther but to return to the ship. White and I cajoled, even threatened them, and Cooke, though shaken, stood by us. Thus we prevented a small mutiny, recovered Spicer’s boat and the surviving men, and proceeded to the island.

  As darkness had fallen, we dropped a grapnel to anchor us near the shore. Cooke sounded a trumpet and we sang English songs loudly but heard no reply. We spent a long, dismal night in our boats, haunted by the loss of our shipmates and pondering what had befallen the colonists that they did not respond to our noise. It was profoundly unsettling to be within hailing distance of Virginia’s shores and yet to feel she was as remote and unpeopled as the farthest antipodes of the earth. I did not sleep a wink all the night.

  At daybreak on the 18th we finally came ashore. Struggling to walk in the soft mounds of sand, we found a disused and overgrown path leading to the ruins of an earthen fort. The palisade around it was broken down in many places. Some of the houses had been taken apart and nothing remained but the foundations. Iron bars, leaden crocks, and other heavy things had been tossed about and were half buried by weeds. John White found his trunks broken into and all his maps and papers rotted, the covers torn from his books and ruined by rain. His armor was also rusted.

  “How could they do this to me?” he lamented. “I befriended them, and they destroyed everything I valued!”

  I had never heard him speak against the savages before. But I suspect his anger was also for his countrymen.

  “They cannot all be dead,” he went on. (I knew he meant his family.) “Where did everyone go?”

  Seeing no sign of a slaughter, I wondered aloud if they had removed to Chesapeake as planned. Then White seemed to recall something.

  “We must look for a sign that will reveal their destination,” he said and we divided into parties for that purpose. Soon I spotted a tree carved with the letters C, R, and O. When John White came and beheld this, he grew bright with hope.

  “They must have gone to Croatoan,” he said. “With Manteo, certainly. And they were in no distress, for if they had been, Ananias would have made the mark of a cross.”

  Capt. Cooke offered his opinion. “He did not finish the letters. Perhaps they were being attacked and he had no time.”

  White sighed and leaned against the tree. He looked old and weak.

  “We have our clue and now must follow the thread,” I said bravely, to keep up his courage. “It leads us to Croatoan, to search for them there.”

  But I, too, was beginning to fear a calamity had taken place and neither of us would find those we had come to seek.

  Chapter 40

  A Decision Is Made

  It had been almost a year since Graham and Mika’s wedding. Since then we had lived, for the most part, peaceably among the Croatoan. There was one crisis during the winter, when a hunting party of Indians and Englishmen had gone to the mainland. Five of our men, discontented by the lack of marriageable women, had gone away on their own, stealing all the game. The theft of the meat left the Croatoan feeling betrayed, with some calling for us to be expelled from their village. Eventually Manteo succeeded in calming them.

  This incident had damaged Graham’s reputation among his new brothers, and he released his humiliation upon us. “Do you not understand what is at stake here?” he demanded. “What would become of us if the Croatoan turned against us?”

  We were twelve men, seven women, and six children remaining. No one defended the thieves. Like Graham, we were ashamed of them.

  “Anyone who is not satisfied must leave now,” he said. “If you stay only to wreck our relationship with Weyawinga’s people, no mercy will be shown you.”

  No one left. No one even stirred as if to leave. By an unspoken agreement, we had cast our lot with the Indians.

  Jane and Tameoc now lived on Croatoan Island and she and Mika and I were the closest of friends. Alice was learning the Indians’ healing arts and could identify every edible and medicinal plant on the island. Takiwa had taken a husband and Betty was expecting another baby. Ambrose had built a lathe out of a sapling and rope and spent hours turning out stools and tables and other useful implements. Jones tilled his field and benefitted from the advice of Takiwa’s husband, his neighbor. For the first time in three years, rainfall had been plentiful and we could expect an abundant harvest.


  I had my own house in the village. On the outside it resembled a loaf of bread and on the inside, with its poles bent overhead, an arbor. On the walls hung storage baskets I had made myself. I could raise the mats to allow fresh air to flow through, and the bed I shared with Virginia was more soft and warm than any mattress I had ever slept on. Alice and her little son were also part of my household. We cooked our meals outdoors on a common hearth lined with bricks.

  Weyawinga had appointed Graham and Jones to her council, and they and Manteo often asked my advice on matters that concerned the general welfare. From time to time I would catch Manteo regarding me with a look of satisfaction that puzzled me. Whenever I was near him, I remembered what it had been like to dance with him and my face would become flushed. I thought of his fingers touching my lips and my insides seemed to melt like wax.

  “It is love,” said Jane Pierce, noting my confusion. “I recognize all the signs.”

  I knew that Manteo, as the son of a weroance, was like a prince and would no doubt marry a princess from another village to secure an alliance. He was too great for me, just as Sir Walter had been. I denied to Jane that it was love I felt. It was only a kind of weakness that came over me from time to time.

  “I respect Manteo. I do not wish to be married to him, for I have decided no man will rule me.” Eleanor and I used to laugh when I said this.

  “I would not expect you, of all people, to be ashamed of loving an Indian,” Jane replied, seeming offended.

  But shame was not the matter. It was a deeper fear. What I knew of love was that it liked to fill me with longing, then leave me empty.

  The day the English ships appeared was one that otherwise followed the peaceful pattern of our new lives. Jane and I were tearing apart pemminaw grass to make a thread as fine as flax, while Jane and Tameoc’s baby slept in a basket. Georgie Howe kicked a ball to entertain Virginia, who was now three years old. I was glad she was growing into such a sturdy child. Even without her parents she was happy. Around midday Tameoc, who had gone out earlier to dig for oysters, ran into the village shouting for Manteo and waving his hands. I heard the words “great canoe.”

  Jane’s hand went to her throat. “No, it cannot be,” she whispered.

  Leaving Virginia with Georgie, I followed Manteo and the others to the top of a sandy knoll. As we stared at the sea, three vessels took on distinct shapes, resembling the tiny ships that dotted the maps in Sir Walter’s library.

  Why did the men not act? I wondered if we should start a brush fire, so the smoke would rise and signal the ships. I glanced at Tameoc, whose mouth was set in a grim line. Of course he did not want the ships to come and take Jane away.

  Graham finally broke the silence. “The biggest ship looks like a Spanish galleon. And the two smaller ones are English merchant vessels, I think.”

  “The English ships have taken the Spanish one!” Jones said in a tone of triumph. “Let us signal them.”

  “No!” I said. “What if the galleon has captured the others and now sails for Roanoke Island?” The arrival of the Spanish had been one of our greatest fears while we lived at Fort Ralegh. We were fortunate to have left there.

  “I cannot make out their flags without a glass,” said Graham, squinting. “But they are bound northward, not for this shore.”

  “We could sail the shallop up the sound and intercept the ships at Hatorask,” said Jones.

  “And make ourselves known to them?” said Graham. “That is hardly wise. Manteo, what do you think?”

  With a solemn, almost troubled look Manteo gazed out to sea, where the ships seemed all but motionless. Then he said, “It is a matter for the council to discuss.”

  Meeting without delay, Weyawinga and her advisers decided to spy on the ships and report if they were bound for Roanoke Island. Graham and Tameoc set out with eight men, paddling their canoe so swiftly it resembled a seabird skimming the water.

  When we left Roanoke Island, rescue had seemed impossible. Now with the appearance of the ships everything had changed. Three days of intense speculation followed while we awaited the canoe’s return. Hope alternated with uncertainty. Were the English or the Spanish in command of the ships? And if the latter, would they occupy the deserted fort or continue onward?

  Ambrose Vickers was convinced we were in danger. “The Spanish will force the English captains to take them to Roanoke Island, and they’ll know at once we came here.” He looked accusingly at me, for I was the one who had made him carve the letters in the tree. “For our safety we ought to go to the mainland and hide.”

  The soldiers were of the opinion that we could fight the Spanish with the help of the Croatoan.

  “And what if they are English ships come to our aid?” Alice Chapman asked. “Would we leave here and go with them? Cate, will you take Virginia back to England to live with her grandfather?”

  I did not want to face that terrible choice. “Let us wait until we know more,” I said.

  That night Mika came to my house and told me stories about Algon the hunter, the great Ahone, and Rabbit the trickster. She had a round belly; before the harvest time she would bear a child. Graham, if given the chance, would not go back to England, I knew. He had laid his love for Anne to rest and found a new one.

  “Do not go away, my friend,” Mika said. “I dreamed of a canoe swallowed by the waves. You must not be on it. I want you to stay here.”

  When the men returned, Graham reported that the ships all flew the royal standard of Elizabeth and were sailing for Roanoke. Their purpose could only be to find us.

  Jones shook his head. “After three years? I can scarcely believe it.”

  “Think of the stores of food! The new cloth!” said Alice, smiling.

  “The armaments and tools and hardware,” said Ambrose, his fear gone.

  Jones wondered aloud what we had all been thinking, “Could it be John White at last?” Hopes, so long submerged, rose to the surface and broke like waves over us.

  Betty’s eyes shone. “Perhaps my cousin and his family have come at last. I wrote to them three years ago. Oh, to think of new people joining us!”

  The excitement began to distress Georgie, who rocked back and forth saying, “Is Papa coming back? Is my papa on the ship?”

  Graham, when he finally spoke, was harsh. “Do you think any of our countrymen would choose to live as we do now? Would they wear hides and moccasins, delve in the dirt and hunt with arrows, sleep on animal pelts, and eat roots?”

  He swept his arm in a wide arc encompassing our entire settlement within the Croatoan village. It was even more rustic than Roanoke had been. But it was now home.

  Ambrose stroked his chin gravely. “I think they will judge our failures, for we have not built a civil society or brought the true religion to the natives.”

  “Worse than that,” said Graham. “We have abandoned our posts at Fort Ralegh. They’ll say we’ve committed treason—killed the assistants so we could rule ourselves. We’ll be taken back to England and hanged,” he concluded darkly.

  “That is impossible!” Jones said. “We are innocent.”

  “No one will hang me,” said Georgie’s aunt. “Even so, I am too old to cross the seas again.”

  I had finally sorted out my own thoughts. “Even if we could return to England without penalty,” I said, “how would we live there? Did you not invest all of your livelihood in this enterprise? Do you want to go back empty-handed? Most of us have no kin left, for they came here with us.”

  I saw the sadness in their eyes as they thought about those who were lost, and the disappointment at their own failure to become rich. My words began to flow as if from a well within me.

  “We have nothing to take back, but everything if we stay here. We have one another and new kin among the Croatoan. Have we wanted for food or feared for our lives since we came here? Or given anyone cause to hate us?”

  “But what if the ships have brought enough supplies and settlers for an entire village?” said one
of the soldiers. “We could rebuild at Roanoke or go to Chesapeake and join Bailey.”

  “The soil at Roanoke is too thin. With more people to feed, we would only be hungry again,” said Jones.

  “At Chesapeake we face unknown dangers,” I said. “Even if Roger Bailey is by some chance still alive, nothing on earth could induce me to put myself under his governance.”

  “I agree. That tyrant has betrayed us more than once,” said Ambrose bitterly.

  “Weyawinga is a benevolent weroance, like our own Elizabeth,” said Graham. “Here we have a voice at her councils; we are partners in government. That will never happen in England. Why, even women are permitted to speak and give advice.”

  “Indeed, who can keep them quiet?” grumbled Ambrose, drawing laughter.

  “I did not favor coming to Croatoan Island, but now I deem it best to stay,” admitted Jones with a sigh. “For I doubt that the ships’ arrival, though we have long desired it, bodes well for us.”

  Slowly the tide was turning. One by one we came to see that our best chance of a secure and happy future lay with the Croatoan. Manteo and Weyawinga were brought in to hear our consensus. Weyawinga looked pleased.

  “If the English newcomers use force against us, will your warriors join us in battle?” Graham asked.

  “Yes,” Weyawinga said. “The white men shall not set their feet on this island if they offer harm to even one person here.”

  I was suddenly alarmed. I thought the question had been whether we desired to depart with the English. Now it was how far we would go to avoid being taken away by them. Of course our decision had consequences—possibly dangerous ones. But had we just determined to take up arms against the queen’s envoy?

  Whether such an act of rebellion succeeded or failed, it would end forever any possibility of our returning to England.