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Authors: Giles Milton
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White was delighted to be a grandfather and clearly felt that the events of the previous week represented a turning point in the colony’s fortunes. In his journal he suddenly becomes more optimistic and looks to the future with a degree of breezy confidence. “By this time our shippes had unlanded the goods and victuals of the planters,” he writes, “[and] the planters also prepared their letters and tokens to send backe into England.”
White was at a loss to explain why Fernandez was still anchored two miles offshore and had not set sail for the Caribbean. The illtempered navigator had refused to take the settlers to Chesapeake Bay on the grounds that it would give him less time to track down Spanish galleons, yet he had remained at anchor for almost four weeks and showed no sign of setting sail. White could only conclude that Fernandez was taking a perverse delight in torturing the colonists with the constant sight of his vessel, while at the same time refusing to allow them to come on board. Even when a sudden squall forced him out to sea, Fernandez was not gone for long. After six days of riding out the storm, he reappeared off the coastline of the Outer Banks.
Those six days had unsettled the colonists, for they had grown used to the sight of his vessel. A wave of collective panic now passed through their ranks and caused them to reevaluate their position. Although the arrival of their flyboat had been a source of joy, she
was found to be weakened by storms and carrying a disappointingly meagre quantity of victuals. This had not unduly troubled White, for he knew that supply ships were on the way, but it suddenly dawned on the settlers that these vessels were due to head directly to Chesapeake Bay. If they did not also call at Roanoke—and there was no reason why they should—then the colony would surely starve to death.
was found to be weakened by storms and carrying a disappointingly meagre quantity of victuals. This had not unduly troubled White, for he knew that supply ships were on the way, but it suddenly dawned on the settlers that these vessels were due to head directly to Chesapeake Bay. If they did not also call at Roanoke—and there was no reason why they should—then the colony would surely starve to death.
The
Lion
’s reappearance convinced the settlers that they should send an urgent message back to England, alerting Ralegh to the unexpected changes of plan. It was decided that at least two of the assistants should sail back to England; but selecting which two should make the voyage was not easy, since no one wished to spend another few months at sea. It was only after “much perswading of the governour” that Christopher Cooper agreed to sail alone, and the settlers went to their beds relieved that at least one of their number would be heading to England. But their good cheer was not to last for long: Cooper passed a fretful night, during which, “through the perswasion of divers of his familiar friendes, he changed his minde, so that now the matter stoode as at the first.” They were back to square one.
Lion
’s reappearance convinced the settlers that they should send an urgent message back to England, alerting Ralegh to the unexpected changes of plan. It was decided that at least two of the assistants should sail back to England; but selecting which two should make the voyage was not easy, since no one wished to spend another few months at sea. It was only after “much perswading of the governour” that Christopher Cooper agreed to sail alone, and the settlers went to their beds relieved that at least one of their number would be heading to England. But their good cheer was not to last for long: Cooper passed a fretful night, during which, “through the perswasion of divers of his familiar friendes, he changed his minde, so that now the matter stoode as at the first.” They were back to square one.
A tense situation was made worse by the fact that Fernandez suddenly announced that he was about to set sail and that if the colonists did not choose a messenger promptly, he would miss the boat. White’s weak leadership once again became evident. His inability to make a decision forced the colonists to take the initiative. They approached their governor and “with one voice requested him to returne himselfe into England, for the better and sooner obtaining of supplies and other necessaries for them.”
It was an extraordinary request that caught White completely off his guard. The colonists pandered to his vanity, arguing that only he had the necessary stature to be taken seriously by Sir Walter; but the real explanation for their decision lay in their deep dissatisfaction with their governor. White had proved a poor leader whose indecision had landed them in their terrible predicament. The settlers were
so disillusioned by his incompetence that—astonishingly—they felt their chances of survival to be greater without him at the helm.
so disillusioned by his incompetence that—astonishingly—they felt their chances of survival to be greater without him at the helm.
White refused to countenance the idea of abandoning his colony, citing many “sufficient causes” as to why he could not sail. Principal among these was that “some enemies to him”—whom he does not name—would spread rumours that he had never had any intention of settling in America. “[They] would not spare to slander falsely both him and the action,” he said, “by saying that he went to Virginia but politikely … to leade so many into a countrey in which he never meant to stay himselfe, and there to leave them behind him.”
This argument did not cut much ice with the settlers, who claimed that his only concern was that his possessions would be stolen in his absence. White admitted as much in his diary, revealing that he was concerned that “his stuffe and goods might be both spoiled and most of it pilfered away.” He added that he would “be either forced to provide himselfe of all such things againe, or els at his comming againe to Virginia, finde himselfe utterly unfurnished.”
Time was ticking and still he refused to sail for England. The colonists were by now determined to rid themselves of White. On the following morning, they “beganne to renewe their requests to the governour againe.” Aware that his possessions were the sticking point, they promised “to make him their bonde, under all their handes and seales, for the safe preserving of all his goods for him at his returne to Virginia.” They added that “if any part thereto were spoiled, or lost, they would see it restored to him or his assignes, whensoever the same should be missed and demanded.” Their final offer proved the clincher: “a testimonie, under their handes and seales,” which guaranteed the safety of his personal possessions, and stated that White was sailing “much against his will” and “through our importunacie.”
Only now did the governor agree to set sail, leaving his daughter and granddaughter to an uncertain fate. He had no idea whether he would ever see them again, nor could he be sure that Ralegh would allow him to resume his post of governor when he learned of all the
mishaps and disasters. It was, after all, a difficult train of events to explain to Sir Walter, and this latest development was the hardest of all. White’s mutinous men were telling their leader—in no uncertain terms—that he was no longer welcome on Roanoke.
mishaps and disasters. It was, after all, a difficult train of events to explain to Sir Walter, and this latest development was the hardest of all. White’s mutinous men were telling their leader—in no uncertain terms—that he was no longer welcome on Roanoke.
It is possible that he was so deluded by the trappings of power that he failed to realise he was being evicted by the colonists; but more likely, given the tone of his journal, he realised his leadership had been a disaster. With a heavy heart, he bid his farewells, vowing to return as soon as possible with the desperately needed provisions. It was a sorry moment. At a critical juncture in the fortunes of the colony—and with hostile forces gathering apace—White had voluntarily abnegated his responsibilities. Roanoke was about to enter its darkest days, and it was to do so without the steadying hand of a governor.
He makes no mention in his journal of what must have been an emotional parting with his daughter, nor does he spare any thought for his baby granddaughter, Virginia, just nine days old. Even more surprising, he neglects to say whom he was putting in charge of the colony during his absence, and he further muddies the waters by stating that while he was in England, the colonists “intended to remove fifty miles further up into the maine.”
This throwaway line—so characteristic of White—lacked any coherent sense. He can only have meant that the settlers had expressed their intention of moving to Chesapeake Bay, yet this would have removed the whole point of his going to England. It would also have been a tricky operation with only three or four boats at their disposal. But the governor clearly expected them to move, for he gave them precise instructions on what to do when they left the island, telling them to carve letters into a tree revealing where they had gone. “[I made] a secret token agreed betweene them and me,” he wrote, “to write or carve on the trees or posts of the dores the name of the place where they should be seated.”
He added that if they were leaving Roanoke of their own will, they were to write only their destination, but “if they should happen
to be distressed in any of those places, that then they should carve over the letters or name a crosse, t, in this forme.”
to be distressed in any of those places, that then they should carve over the letters or name a crosse, t, in this forme.”
White was never a master of clarity; on the eve of his departure from Roanoke, his journal became even more confused than usual. He was tired, depressed, and emotionally drained; yet he would surely have paid more attention to detail had he known that these few scraps of information were to be remembered and examined for years to come—the only clues in a mystery that was to haunt England’s New World adventurers for almost two decades.
When Fernandez learned that he would have to spend several more months in the company of White, he brusquely informed the governor that he intended to depart before midday, giving him “halfe a daies respite to prepare himselfe for the same.” The only good news for White was that he managed to secure himself passage on the flyboat rather than the
Lion.
This small craft was captained by his friend, Edward Spicer, who was sure to whisk him back to England in as short a time as possible.
Lion.
This small craft was captained by his friend, Edward Spicer, who was sure to whisk him back to England in as short a time as possible.
Misfortune struck the flyboat as it prepared to set sail. The vessel’s anchor was raised by a capstan, a vertical drum which gathered up the cable as the twelve mariners pushed on its horizontal bars. The strain was tremendous, for the anchor was snagged on the rocky seabed, and there was a sickening crack when it was finally freed. One of the capstan’s great bars had snapped, flinging several of the seamen to the deck. The sudden loss of equilibrium and tension caused the drum to spin wildly out of control, its bars smashing into the sailors.
To White, who had just stepped aboard, the accident was a dreadful sight. “Twelve of the men … were throwen from the copestone,” he wrote. The bars “came so fast about upon them, that the other two barres thereof stroke and hurt most of them so sore that some of them never recovered it.” Several had broken bones while others were shaken and bruised. It was some time before enough of the men were sufficiently recovered to make a second attempt.
Once again they were “throwen downe and hurt,” and at this point the crew gave up: they were “so bruised and hurt” that they decided to “cut their cable and lose their anker.” White adds, with characteristic understatement, that it was an “infortunate beginning.”
Once again they were “throwen downe and hurt,” and at this point the crew gave up: they were “so bruised and hurt” that they decided to “cut their cable and lose their anker.” White adds, with characteristic understatement, that it was an “infortunate beginning.”
White set sail with an injured and dispirited crew, but these experienced seadogs managed to shadow the
Lion
for a month. As soon as they sighted the Azores, Fernandez announced that he was going in search of booty, much to the dismay of White and his men. They were dangerously short of supplies, physically debilitated, and still nursing the appalling wounds inflicted by the broken capstan. Of the fifteen crew, only five “were able to stande to their labour”—a very small number to man the watches and sail the boat. They begged Fernandez to reconsider, but he refused. After transferring the settlers’ letters into the flyboat, the men swung their vessel north-eastwards for England.
Lion
for a month. As soon as they sighted the Azores, Fernandez announced that he was going in search of booty, much to the dismay of White and his men. They were dangerously short of supplies, physically debilitated, and still nursing the appalling wounds inflicted by the broken capstan. Of the fifteen crew, only five “were able to stande to their labour”—a very small number to man the watches and sail the boat. They begged Fernandez to reconsider, but he refused. After transferring the settlers’ letters into the flyboat, the men swung their vessel north-eastwards for England.
“We hoped by the helpe of God to arrive shortly,” wrote White. But after twenty days of “scarse and variable windes,” there arose “a storme at the north-east.” This broke the spirits of the exhausted men, whose fresh water supply was “by leaking [barrels] almost consumed.” They were soaked to the bones by sea spray, and every lurch of the boat sent them crashing into timbers, reopening their wounds. More galling was the fact that the wind was blowing from the northeast, pushing them further and further from English shores. “For six dayes [the wind] ceased not to blowe so exceeding that we were driven further in those six days then wee could recover in thirteene daies.” They soon found themselves in desperate straits. With their food finished, the scurvy-ridden men quickly began to starve. Ten of the crew were already suffering; now, “others of our saylers began to fall very sicke, and two of them dyed.” These unfortunate souls were wrapped in canvas sheeting and dropped overboard. The storm showed no signs of abating. It “continued so close that our master sometimes in foure daies together could see neither sunne nor starre.” Nor could he see land, much to the men’s discomfort,
since they had only “stinking water, dregges of beere and lees of wine which remained … but three gallons, and therefore now we expected nothing but by famyne to perish at sea.”
since they had only “stinking water, dregges of beere and lees of wine which remained … but three gallons, and therefore now we expected nothing but by famyne to perish at sea.”
At last the winds changed, bringing fairer weather, and for almost a month the men drifted slowly northwards, too debilitated to man the vessel. They had given up all hope of surviving the voyage and hoped only for a quick and painless death. But on October 16, 1587, White noticed a low grey smudge on the horizon that grew more distinct as the morning progressed. He had sighted land. “We knew not what land it was,” but it caused enough interest for a few of the men to bestir themselves and hoist a sail. For the rest of the day, the land grew nearer. “About sunne set, we put into a harbour where we found a hulke of Dublin and a pynesse of [South]ampton.” This pinnace made contact with White’s men and informed them that “we were in Smewicke in the west parts of Ireland.”
White and Edward Spicer struggled ashore “to take order of the new victualling of our flye boate for England,” but this Irish wilderness outpost had little to offer in the way of food. It took four days to acquire a few provisions, by which time “the boatswane, the steward and the boatswane’s mate [had] dyed.”
Worse was to follow. Five days later, “the master’s mate and two of our chiefe saylers were brought sicke.” White no longer had a crew for his flyboat, so he “skipped himselfe in a ship called the
Monkie
.” After a few more days at sea, at long last he stepped ashore at Southampton, exhausted and sick but relieved that his mission was finally coming to an end.
Monkie
.” After a few more days at sea, at long last he stepped ashore at Southampton, exhausted and sick but relieved that his mission was finally coming to an end.
All he now needed to do was find Sir Walter Ralegh.
Sounding a Trumpet
John White landed at Southampton to be greeted with some extremely bad news. Just two weeks earlier, in October 1587, Queen Elizabeth had issued a general “stay of shipping” that forbade any vessel from setting sail without special licence. This order extended to warships, privateers, and even supply vessels carrying mattocks and seeds to America.
The reasons for such a ban were clear, even to those who had never seen the sea. King Philip II had determined to invade England, and was assembling a mighty armada which—if rumour proved true—was of such strength that it was already being called
invencible.
“There was spread throughout all England,” wrote White, “such report of the wonderfull preparation and invincible fleetes made by the King of Spain, joyned with the power of the Pope, for the invading of England.” The queen had decreed that all available ships would be needed for the defence of her kingdom.
invencible.
“There was spread throughout all England,” wrote White, “such report of the wonderfull preparation and invincible fleetes made by the King of Spain, joyned with the power of the Pope, for the invading of England.” The queen had decreed that all available ships would be needed for the defence of her kingdom.
Soon after arriving in England, White met with Ralegh and broke the news that he had landed his men on Roanoke Island rather than Chesapeake Bay. Ralegh must have been furious. He curtly informed White that the first supply vessel had already left for Chesapeake Bay and that it was most unlikely to call at Roanoke. But he also realised that the settlers on Roanoke were in considerable
danger, and offered to dispatch a second ship “with all such necessaries as he understood they stood in neede of.” Moreover, he declared his intention of sending a huge fleet under the command of Sir Richard Grenville, carrying many more supplies and a few more settlers. It was to be “a good supply of shiping” and would be laden “with sufficient of all thinges needefull.”
danger, and offered to dispatch a second ship “with all such necessaries as he understood they stood in neede of.” Moreover, he declared his intention of sending a huge fleet under the command of Sir Richard Grenville, carrying many more supplies and a few more settlers. It was to be “a good supply of shiping” and would be laden “with sufficient of all thinges needefull.”
When White asked how, exactly, Ralegh proposed to obtain permission to sail, Sir Walter haughtily informed him that he had always considered his own projects to fall outside the purview of the government. Although he fully supported the queen’s ban on sailings because of the Spanish Armada threat, and even wrote to his half-brother stressing the importance of ensuring that no vessels left the West Country, he added in a postscript that his own ships, “to whom I have geven leve, you may latt them steale away.”
White was relieved that supplies would soon be on their way to his daughter and granddaughter, but he was to find, not for the first time, that luck would fail him in his hour of need. The supply vessel did not sail—perhaps for fear of Spanish attack—and Sir Richard Grenville’s fleet of seven or eight ships was delayed by contrary winds. By spring 1588 it was “in a reddinesse” to sail for America when a breathless messenger arrived at Bideford with some unwelcome news. Ralegh had been overruled by the queen. Grenville was “strayghtly charged and commanded in Her Majesties’ name, and upon his alleadgeance, to forbeare to go [on] his intended voyage.” He was to join Sir Francis Drake in Plymouth, where preparations were under way for the defence of England.
There was only one crumb of comfort in the news: Grenville was given some leeway over what he did with his smaller vessels and was told that any that Sir Francis did not need, “he might dispose of and employ in his intended voyage.” Drake had no use for Grenville’s two pinnaces, which were so small that a single cannonshot could have sunk them. These were now loaned to White—under the command of Captain Arthur Facy—so that he could dash to the relief of his colonists.
They were not the ideal craft in which to sail across the Atlantic. The
Brave
was just thirty tons, while the Roe was even smaller, and there was scarcely enough room for the “fifteen planters and all their provisions.” But there was no alternative, and White clambered aboard with a growing feeling that he had been born under an “unlucky star.”
Brave
was just thirty tons, while the Roe was even smaller, and there was scarcely enough room for the “fifteen planters and all their provisions.” But there was no alternative, and White clambered aboard with a growing feeling that he had been born under an “unlucky star.”
He was absolutely right, for less than a week after leaving England, in April, the
Brave
suffered a devastating attack from a French pirate ship. Captain Facy’s men were no strangers to marine warfare, but they soon found themselves outgunned by their attackers. Within minutes, grappling irons enabled a large troop of fighters to board the English vessel. This was the turning point in the battle; the French pirates “playd extreemely upon us with their shot,” and White, much to his embarrassment, was struck “in the side of the buttoke.” Even in an age that glorified battle scars, a black-and-blue bottom was not a wound to boast about.
Brave
suffered a devastating attack from a French pirate ship. Captain Facy’s men were no strangers to marine warfare, but they soon found themselves outgunned by their attackers. Within minutes, grappling irons enabled a large troop of fighters to board the English vessel. This was the turning point in the battle; the French pirates “playd extreemely upon us with their shot,” and White, much to his embarrassment, was struck “in the side of the buttoke.” Even in an age that glorified battle scars, a black-and-blue bottom was not a wound to boast about.
When the men could fight no more, they capitulated to their attackers and managed to talk themselves out of being put to the sword. The French were rather less magnanimous when it came to claiming their booty. They seized all the supplies that had been intended for the colonist on Roanoke; so much, indeed, that they sank their two pinnaces through overloading. “They robbed us of all our victuals, powder, weapons and provision,” recorded a distressed White, “saving a smal quantity of biskuit to serve us scarce for England.” He added that their sorry plight was God’s way of “justly punishing our … evil disposed mariners,” and concludes, with more than a hint of bitterness, “we were of force constraned to breake of[f] our voyage intended for the reliefe of our colony left the yere before in Virginia.” The
Brave
returned to England, followed soon after by the Roe, which had also failed to make it to America.
Brave
returned to England, followed soon after by the Roe, which had also failed to make it to America.
White was now extremely anxious about the safety of the Roanoke colonists, and feared that nine months without any supplies would have left them “not a little distressed.” But he was at a loss to know what to do next. His hands were tied, for the country
was now on a war footing with Spain, and Ralegh was far too busy to concern himself with his American colony. England itself was under threat.
was now on a war footing with Spain, and Ralegh was far too busy to concern himself with his American colony. England itself was under threat.
It was widely believed that Spanish crack troops would attempt a landing in the West Country, capture a port, and create a beachhead. Since this was Ralegh’s territory—he was still vice admiral of the West Country—he was one of the “noble and experienced captains” appointed to advise on how Devon and Cornwall could best “withstand an invasion pretended [intended] by the King of Spain.” His advisors were all close friends, and when he was summoned to attend the council of war, he found himself surrounded by the very men who had led his 1585 expedition to Virginia. Sir Richard Grenville was present, as was Ralph Lane, and each of these men was able to draw on his experience in America to second-guess the Spanish strategy. “To invade by sea upon a perilous coast,” wrote Ralegh later, “being neither in possession of any port, nor succoured by any party, may better fit a prince presuming on his fortune than enriched by understanding.”
Ralegh threw himself into his work with customary enthusiasm. From his headquarters in Plymouth, he issued orders, inspected fortifications, and helped to muster troops. But his activities were not confined to land defences. He also helped to assemble the English fleet, lending several of his privateering vessels to do battle with the Armada. None was more impressive than the mighty
Ark Royal
, the most advanced warship of her day, which Sir Walter had had built two years earlier. Now she was to lead the defence of the realm, commanded by Admiral Lord Howard of Effingham himself. “I thinke her the odd [best] ship in the world for all conditions,” the admiral wrote, “and truly, I think there can be no great ship make me change and go out of her.”
Ark Royal
, the most advanced warship of her day, which Sir Walter had had built two years earlier. Now she was to lead the defence of the realm, commanded by Admiral Lord Howard of Effingham himself. “I thinke her the odd [best] ship in the world for all conditions,” the admiral wrote, “and truly, I think there can be no great ship make me change and go out of her.”
The Spanish Armada, an astonishing array of 130 frigates and galleons, was sighted off the southwest coast of England at 3 p.m. on Friday, July 19. It was the greatest fleet that had ever approached the shores of Great Britain. Within minutes, the first of Ralegh’s beacons
was roaring into flame, sending a message of impending danger swiftly along the south coast. News quickly reached the queen at Richmond; then the message flashed inland, carrying the news to Nottingham, Derby, and York. All night, the inhabitants of Plymouth battled against a swift southwesterly to get their ships out of the harbour. By dawn, most of the fleet had been warped to sea and were ready to challenge the great Armada.
was roaring into flame, sending a message of impending danger swiftly along the south coast. News quickly reached the queen at Richmond; then the message flashed inland, carrying the news to Nottingham, Derby, and York. All night, the inhabitants of Plymouth battled against a swift southwesterly to get their ships out of the harbour. By dawn, most of the fleet had been warped to sea and were ready to challenge the great Armada.
It soon became apparent that the Spanish had no intention of landing in the West Country. The fleet continued eastwards, up the Channel, followed by English vessels dancing around their tail. “We pluck their feathers little by little,” wrote the Lord High Admiral with relish. With no further danger to the West Country, Ralegh was able to join the fleet, stepping aboard his old flagship in time to witness victory. The English fleet closed on the Spanish ships in the Strait of Dover; in the mayhem that followed, the battered Armada was “chased out of the sight of England.” Dozens of ships were sunk, many more were later wrecked on the wild shores of Scotland, and only half of the fleet ever made it back to Spain. Ralegh’s account of the battle was withering in its attack on the Spanish commanders and their strategy. “With all which so great and terrible an ostentation, they did not in all their sailing round England, so much as sink or take one ship, bark, pinnace, or cock-boat of ours; or ever burnt so much as one sheepcote of this land.”
The queen was overjoyed. To celebrate her victory, she commissioned a special engraving that depicted her in majesterial pose, standing between two columns. These represented the Pillars of Hercules—those chunks of rock that marked the limits of Rome’s western empire—and they signalled that England’s historic victory stretched far beyond the fringes of Europe. Her Royal Highness,
Weroanza
Elizabeth, now saw herself as the unchallenged ruler in the New World. She was, according to the inscription, “Queen … of England, France, Ireland and Virginia.”
Weroanza
Elizabeth, now saw herself as the unchallenged ruler in the New World. She was, according to the inscription, “Queen … of England, France, Ireland and Virginia.”
Queen Elizabeth revelled in her victory over the Spanish Armada. She had saved England from invasion, and now saw herself as the unchallenged ruler of the New World
Sir Walter had been too busy to meet with John White during the Armada campaign, and even after the danger had passed, he was in Ireland to counter any attack from the remnants of King Philip’s fleet. He did not return to London until March 1589, by which time
nineteen months had passed since there had been any contact with the Roanoke settlers. Only now did he have time to consider his next move. He was reluctant to send yet another fleet to Virginia, for the project was proving a drain even on his not inconsiderable resources. It cost about £2,000 to equip a medium-sized ship for a protracted voyage in American waters, and in the four years between 1584 and 1588 Sir Walter had sent no fewer than eighteen vessels across the ocean, for a total cost of perhaps £36,000. The supplies for these vessels added a further £10,000 to the bill, while the expense of keeping a colony in tools and victuals was reckoned at £10,000 a year. Although there were potential rich pickings to be had in the holds of Spanish treasure ships, not all of Ralegh’s captains returned home with silver and gold.
nineteen months had passed since there had been any contact with the Roanoke settlers. Only now did he have time to consider his next move. He was reluctant to send yet another fleet to Virginia, for the project was proving a drain even on his not inconsiderable resources. It cost about £2,000 to equip a medium-sized ship for a protracted voyage in American waters, and in the four years between 1584 and 1588 Sir Walter had sent no fewer than eighteen vessels across the ocean, for a total cost of perhaps £36,000. The supplies for these vessels added a further £10,000 to the bill, while the expense of keeping a colony in tools and victuals was reckoned at £10,000 a year. Although there were potential rich pickings to be had in the holds of Spanish treasure ships, not all of Ralegh’s captains returned home with silver and gold.
But while the colonisation of America was a considerable burden on the resources of one man—even a wealthy one—it was not beyond the means of a group of merchants. There were few who wished to join Ralegh in his enterprise, but he managed to strike an agreement with a group of London traders by giving them the right to trade with the “Citee of Ralegh,” exempt from tax, for seven years. Their side of the bargain was to inject the necessary capital to ensure the survival of the colony.
The agreement was signed with a flourish in March 1589, and White was heartened by the thought that he might, at long last, be reunited with his family. But the merchants showed no interest in organising a fleet, and spring slipped into summer without a single vessel being sent to America. It had slowly dawned on the merchants that the Citee of Ralegh—tax or no tax—had very little to offer.
Only one man vowed to send ships to the troubled colony. King Philip of Spain had grown increasingly exasperated by the threat that Ralegh’s men posed to Spanish shipping, and was alarmed by the vague rumours that the colony had been moved to Chesapeake Bay. When his advisors said that this proved the Roanoke experiment had been a failure, Philip’s response was testy. “The fact that
he [Ralegh] has changed its site is no indication of a decision to abandon it,” he said, “but rather to change its position.”
he [Ralegh] has changed its site is no indication of a decision to abandon it,” he said, “but rather to change its position.”
The king was so troubled by Ralegh’s colony that he continued to plan a search-and-destroy mission throughout the Armada campaign. When the sea war interrupted the flow of messages between El Escorial and the New World, the governor of Spain’s Florida outpost decided to equip a vessel to root out and slaughter all of the English colonists.
The commander of this mission, Vicente Gonzalez, was so convinced that Ralegh’s colonists had moved to Chesapeake Bay—even though he had no concrete information—that he sailed past the Outer Banks without even stopping. His search only began in earnest when his vessel entered the bay and began coasting the shoreline. His men delighted in the “very high land,” and all agreed that it was the perfect site for a colony. But although they conducted an exhaustive search, not a single lace-ruffed Englishman was sighted.
BOOK: Big Chief Elizabeth: The Adventures and Fate of the First English Colonists in America
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