The scallywags were brought out with their hands bound behind their person. They did not either one flinch upon the sight of the rope dangling from the oak. Their friends however were making the most frightening din which sounded far different from the shrieking I had become accustomed to.
Putnam Bonner ordered the two naturals upon the bench whence he then applied the noose to their necks.
As governor of Raleigh, I ordered the heathen to attention. I wanted this nasty business over with in a speedy manner, so I made my words quick, which Chief Manteo then translated. “Oh heathen of Roanoke. This be the consequence to those who thieve, pinch and pillage from Her Majesty’s colony. Let this be a warning to thee.”
I nodded to Putnam Bonner who then kicked away the bench from which the scoundrels were perched. We watched in silence for many minutes whilst strangulation slowly occurred. Those two heathen died the bravest death I ever saw with nay even a trickle nor drop of piss between them.
I ordered the bodies be left dangling indefinitely as warning to those who may think of committing evil acts against us. The heathen were strangely silent as they disappeared into the forest.
That was the last we saw of them. They no longer bring us food nor watch our curious manners.
Chief Manteo convinced me that revenge would be sure to follow and that we would need to be prepared for whence that day arrived. That the naturals knew of our habits and capabilities, our strengths and weaknesses. But in likely effect they would strike whence we were at our weakest, starved and cold by the winter’s bite.
As precaution, I ordered Putnam Bonner train each male above the age of twelve to be proficient in the use of firearms. I ordered each male be trained in the use of spontoons, the long shafted weapons, since we’d brought a number from England. I was told the colony had barely muskets nor spontoons for they had mostly disappeared from the workshop. In fact they numbered only three and two respectively and ammunition was woefully low. I demanded that he made do, “Improvise and do thy best, bloody man, our lives depend on it!”
A day later Tom Dodd returned to the fort. He demanded that in light of recent events and inevitable future increases in heathen hostilities that we reconvened the council. He wanted another vote on the subject of pressing forthwith towards the Chesapeake Bay. At sight of him, Burnham Redgar emerged and a fight almost ensued, “The people have spoken. Thou won’t be satisfied until thee get thy own way!”
Tom Dodd then said something which neither of us expected. “I saw a trio of English soldiers yesterday. That’s why I’m here. Thou see, I still wish to press forth towards Raleigh regardless.”
I was astonished and demanded that he divulge more information with regards to the soldiers and not to simply touch on the subject as though it was of little or no consequence.
He continued that he’d seen a trio of soldiers standing in the darkness of the forest. It was twilight but whilst out gathering kindling he could make out their white skin in the distance. They wore tattered brown tunics beneath dull chest plate armour. One of them donned a helmet which lay tilted on his head. He had called out to them, “Who go’eth there?” Yet no response had been returned. They merely stood, docile and stupid. His house was close by and so he’d returned the lumber to his dwellings. Whence he returned to the forest, the soldiers had gone and no amount of calling would bring them back.
I asked the pig-headed man why he’d not simply approached the soldiers whence he first had them in his sight. “My wife was cold and needed the kindling,” he said to my disgust.
Nevertheless, my spirits were rekindled. I knew that if the soldiers were close by, they would soon return home to the bosom of the fort.
I agreed with Tom Dodd that we would reconvene the council tonight. I then watched his smile dissipate as I told him, “but we’ll be discussing matters other than that of leaving for Raleigh.”
In retort, he told me that technically I was the Governor of Raleigh and that this was Roanoke and that I held no jurisdiction here. He was correct. I thought about hanging the man on a treason charge. But then I had a much better idea.
At the council meeting, we voted in favour of changing the name from Fort Roanoke, to Fort Raleigh. I shall forever remember the expression on Tom Dodd’s face.
After watching the contemptible little man stalk out from our gathering, it was time to vote on the real business of the day. Should I return to England in order to requisition Sir Walter for fresh supplies? I personally put both sides of the argument to the council. We needed food to get us through the winter. We needed grain, oats and corn. We needed livestock and horses. We needed tools and secure locking devices. But most of all, we needed soldiers. If I departed on the next ship then I could feasibly return within a three to four month period. However, Fort Raleigh would be leaderless throughout this period. How would the colonists cope without myself to lead, guide and advise?
The council voted six to zero in favour of myself departing with haste. I was a little taken aback, yet here I am, now sailing on the Golden Hind with Sir Francis Drake who happened to be passing by merely ten days after our council meeting.
Following the events of the last few weeks, I had not been able to enjoy much time with my beautiful new granddaughter who goes by the name of Virginia. She’s a pretty little thing with big blue eyes and we named her after our virgin queen. I hope to be returned to Fort Raleigh with the utmost of speed in order to be with her. I pray God that the heathens keep their distance until my return.
30th August 1587
My name is Ananias Dare and I’m Acting Governor for Fort Raleigh. I was handed the title by the council, prior to my father-in-law departing for England. Unlike John, I shall not be wasting my time prancing about the island searching for obscure plants that look exactly like English plants except for a slight difference in leaf shade before sketching them. The amount of time he would spend in his study, applying shading to sea oats which really were identical to English sea oats used to drive me insane. Are there not more important things with which to occupy one’s time?
No sooner had John left, thence heathen aggression escalated. Burnham Redgar made the journey along with a brace of labourers to the dwelling of Tom Dodd, in order to make peace with the wretched man. The house is located in the middle of the forest, quite isolated from the colony. They banged on the door for several minutes, only no answer had been forthcoming. Finally they decided to enter and at once found the reason why he’d not answered the door, for Tom Dodd was pinned to the wall with a spontoon through his belly. His lifeless hands were clutched to the spear whilst his head sagged towards his chest. His poor dear wife was found in another room and I shall not go into the gory details of how she was found. Upon the gruesome discovery, they immediately brought Mr and Mrs Dodd to the fort perimeter whence we found an isolated little spot for their burial just before the forest edge.
I immediately made an enquiry upon the progress of our lacklustre musketry training. To my chagrin, I discovered that only three colonists had been trained in the use of firearms, yet merely “through the motions.” The tall soldier by the name of Putnam Bonner explained that there simply was not enough ammunition to waste on drilling and training carpenters to shoot like soldiers. However, I was promised that spontoon training had been adequate.
I summoned the colony to the thoroughfare, where I was not meaning to alarm everybody, I did demand that sentries now be kept on the watchtowers at all times. I also stated that the next person who left the fort without ensuring it was barred would be placed in stocks. It was at that moment whence I looked towards the Pritchard household. I was dismayed to see Harry Pritchard, a young man of twenty being carried out, dead. I was told he died of general sickness. I ordered him buried in a plot adjacent to the Dodds.
The next day Burnham Redgar took five men on a scouting trip. I told him this was not the time to be gallivanting around the island like Marco Polo, that now was the time the colony needed every available man for fig
hting the heathen whence they inevitably attacked. He retorted that it was for that precise reason he was venturing forth to locate his brother and the rest of the soldiers who were believed to be either lost, hiding or absconding in the forest. I demanded that the council put it to a vote that very evening. He responded with words too obscene to write in these records where those of polite society would be most interested in reading. He then turned tail and left and neither did my threats of treason nor punishment change his mind.
If that wasn’t enough, Sir Francis Drake has kindly informed the colonists that we are now at war with the Spanish and that could we “please not yield to their aggression.” He requested that we shore up our defences and was kind enough to list his suggestions which included building a stone wall complete with gate and wall tower, a ditch along the front of the wall which we should fill with water and as an optional extra, we should build a pre wall also complete with towers. I stood there flabbergasted whilst he chewed on a blade of grass before casually sauntering back to his ship, no doubt filled to the brim with looted Spanish gold. I don’t like that man!
I was about ready to retire for the month following recent events, yet life allows little time for such recourse. Every day my dear wife Eleanor complains there’s no theatre in the fort. Back in London she used to drag me to the theatre often and it was the lack of such endeavours in the new world which was a major draw for my coming here. I remember with pain, one such occasion I was coerced into attending a play by some William Shodspeare or somebody about two young lovers that made me want to wretch. Eleanor had insisted we stayed behind to meet the young Shodspeare and to attain his autograph. I had told her he would never amount to anything and that it was past my supper time. Whence we arrived home, I tucked in to a hearty beef stew made by Henderson himself. What I would not give for one of Henderson’s stews out here in Raleigh. The truth is, I miss many things about England and I dare say I wished I’d never embarked upon this endeavour. I have temporary governorship of over a hundred souls and have not one clue of what I’m doing, although thus far I seem to have faked it. My trade is tiling. I tile roofs. I stop the rain from soaking homes and I prevent heat from escaping the same. Now here I am in charge of a bloody colony on the other side of the world. There are great reasons the last attempt to colonise this place failed. What makes anybody assume this attempt will be different? We are a small band of English, thousands of miles from the nearest civilisation and we’re surrounded by hundreds, maybe thousands of spear wielding savages hell bent on our annihilation. But what can I do? I can’t run and I can’t give up. I have a new born child.
20th September1587
I have spent considerable time standing on the watchtowers, looking out to sea. I stare in the direction of England, home. I miss England, I miss London. I miss the filth, the pickpockets, the crime, the hookers begging for business, I miss the stench of horse manure, I miss watching the upper classes batting peasants aside with their canes, I even miss the rotten slimy Thames filled to the brim with the faeces of a city. I miss England so much I would even be willing to attend the theatre.
Every day or so I think I see a ship on the horizon, but then it disappears and I wonder if it was my imagination. If the Spanish were to arrive, what would be the outcome? What could they possibly loot from us?
God speed John, we really need thee back here. We need food. Just yesterday we sustained our first death through malnutrition. It was a small child, a boy and friend of little Hastings. His tiny body was placed in a plot near the others. We need tools. The cold season appears to have started early and we need to complete our building work. We had the first death from hypothermia within the last week, though it was actually one of our wealthy council members who even had a firm roof over his head. There also appears to be a fever spreading throughout the colony. To my knowledge, the fever has now claimed four lives and it cares not for age, sex nor occupation. We decided against giving headstones to our fallen. We cannot risk allowing the heathen knowing how weak we truly are, for if they knew, they would doubtless strike. Death is now so frequent that we have taken to attending to the burials at night in case there are scouts watching us.
The food situation has become serious. We have not been able to yield anything from our crops. A result of arriving in July, not to mention the abominable marshes nearby. We also suspect the heathen of pulling up a patch of pumpkins that were dying anyway. We survive primarily on mushrooms found around the marshlands, which unfortunately hold very little nutrition. From time to time we’re able to bag a rabbit and whence that happens, arguments and even fighting ensues with regards to who should bounty on it. One of our fishing nets had been taken by the naturals which left us with only one other. Wanchese lost the other net whence he and little Hastings ventured out on the pinnace. The native foolishly allowed the boy to hold the net which was then tugged from his hand by a large trout.
Luckily, we haven’t seen much from the naturals recently. They did send us a bundle of arrows wrapped in a rattlesnake skin. I asked Chief Manteo as to its meaning and he informed me it was a warning of what was to come. I gathered the council together and after much debate, we decided we had no choice other than to make a similar demonstration of strength and intent. We returned the skin to the heathen filled with powder and shot. The truth is we don’t have those kinds of resources to be wasting on sending messages to the enemy. But with God on our side, they’ll understand fully that we are ready and capable of fighting them, even if that may not be true.
A week after Burnham Redgar had left us to go searching for elusive soldiers, he stumbled back into the fort using his spontoon as support. His appearance was gaunt. He was starving and thirsty. There was something missing about him, as if the light in his eyes had disappeared and his soul had been taken away. What’s more, he returned alone for there was no sign of the five men he travelled with.
Putnam Bonner and myself grabbed the man and took him home. We sat him down on a chair and fetched some water from the well. Eleanor prepared some mushroom broth but whence it arrived he had no such interest in it. I noticed a wound on his forearm which had the appearance of teeth. Whence I enquired upon the wound, he simply covered over it with his tunic. He shook somewhat and I assumed he was in the early stages of hypothermia, which I had already witnessed in the colony.
I asked him for the whereabouts of the other men whom he had so recklessly taken with him. “Dead,” he said and he would say no more. I promised myself on the spot that if this wretched fellow recovered from his ailments that I would see him hanged.
“Didst thou find thy brother? Didst thou find the soldiers?” I asked the man as he tightened his grip on the filthy blanket that enveloped his person.
“We found them,” he said after a long pause, “they were…”
I demanded the man spoke with clarity and in a form of English I could interpret. Yet all he did was stare at the blank wooden wall in front of him. Finally it was Putnam Bonner who made me realise I was wasting my time with the fool and that he was quite clearly demented.
Within minutes I was summoned by a loud commotion in the thoroughfare. Little Hastings had returned from the fields crying his eyes out. Once he finally composed himself, thanks to a stern talking to from his father, he confessed to poking the hanging corpses of the thieving naturals with a stick. Only, weeks after their deaths, he insisted they were still living. The child said he jabbed a stick at the crotch of one of the dead savages which had then reacted by wriggling around and making biting motions with its mouth. This then set the other savage off which began to wildly swing on the rope whilst making the same hideous biting motions.
George Oakwood gave the boy a thrashing in front of us all and sent him home to his mother.
It was Putnam Bonner who insisted we go take a look at the corpses, in case there was anything in what the boy had said. I thought this a waste of time and there were a million more important tasks to be done around the fort, yet the soldier had bee
n insistent. In order to put the matter to rest, I agreed and the three of us set off the short distance towards the solitary oak.
We saw the horror from a distance. The two savages were trying their utmost to shake themselves free from the noose around their necks. I felt a strange sickness in my stomach, yet due to the lack of sustenance I had taken over the last few days, I had no food with which to excrete from my gut. Similarly there was neither sick nor bile from either of my friends.
Whence we neared the savages it could be observed that they had a deep grey discolourment to their complexion, no longer were they red skinned like their tribal friends. Their bare legs up to the knees had been bitten through by wolves which left large areas of exposed bone. They had both bitten through their lips, gums and tongue, for this portion of their faces was missing, revealing jaw bone and teeth I would be sure to have nightmares over. Most alarmingly of all were their eyes which had been pecked out by vultures. Despite having had their own body weight drive the air and life from them, neither appeared to be in any evident pain. They bit down with their mouths as much as the rope pressing against their jaws would allow, seeming only to sense our presence in front of them. Despite these severe wounds, there was no blood to be seen, which I could not understand. If they were living then why had not the heart pumped sprays of blood through their deep gashes? If they were dead then how could they sense and react to our presence?
George Oakwood asked what strange creatures were these Croatan tribe and what sort of dark arts were they practicing in the forest? How could a small band of men, English though we were, conquer such a race?
I demanded that Putnam Bonner put these creatures out from their misery. He looked at one of the creatures, the one biting down with extreme force, clattering his teeth together in a way that made me blanch. He thrust his spontoon through its heart. The sharp point emerged through the other side of the torso. He held the thrust for a second, regained his balance, then pulled the weapon back through its chest. The wide base of the point tore through the torso, bringing a large chunk of what I thought to be heart, lung and rib with it. Through the wide gaping hole that was created, I could see children playing on the fort walls, yet the beast appeared not to be in pain from having its chest ripped apart.
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