Big Chief Elizabeth: The Adventures and Fate of the First English Colonists in America (23 page)

BOOK: Big Chief Elizabeth: The Adventures and Fate of the First English Colonists in America
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The governor’s first task was to rally his men. Morale was extremely low, for there were few soldiers to defend the colony’s women and children, and the dilapidated state of the village on Roanoke was a constant reminder of the precariousness of their position. With uncharacteristic decisiveness, White issued an order that “every man should be imploied for the repairing of those houses, which we found standing, and also to make other new cottages for such as shoulde neede.”
The construction work was not as difficult as it sounded. Elizabethan houses were built around a cagelike framework of timber that was held in place by stout uprights called “studding posts.” In England, builders used shaped wood, but it was perfectly possible to use the same method of construction using roughly hewn tree trunks. White’s men threw themselves into their work with energy and within a couple of days the skeletal village was once again taking shape.
On July 25, White was astonished to see a largish craft heading towards the island. As it drew nearer, he realised it was the flyboat which had been last sighted in the Bay of Portugal. It contained “the rest of our planters, arrived [and] all safe … to the great joye and
comfort of the whole companie.” Ever since it had been “lewdly” forsaken, White had been nervous about his lack of supplies. Now, at last, his settlers had enough food to stave off starvation.
Three days after this joyous reunion, George Howe, one of White’s assistants, set off to hunt for crabs in the shallows of Pamlico Sound. There were now many more mouths to feed, and Howe believed it would raise the colonists’ spirits if he could collect enough crabs for a hearty feast. It was a warm day and he stripped off his hose and breeches and waded “almost naked” through the water. Without a thought for his safety, he plucked crabs and oysters from the mud, unaware that he was being watched and tracked by sixteen pairs of eyes.
These Indian huntsmen had set out to stalk deer in the “high reedes,” but they quickly abandoned their search when they spied this human quarry. They bided their time, “secretly hidden” in the overgrown reed beds, and were pleased to see that Howe was “wading in the water alone, almost naked, without any weapon save only a small forked stick [for] catching crabs.”
The Englishman was in very real danger, for he had “strayed two miles from his companie” and was now a sitting target, unarmed, alone, and defenceless. Suddenly, a crackle in the reed beds caused him to spin around. He was shocked by what he saw: the Indian warriors always made a terrifying sight, and these paint-daubed hunters had already raised their bows and taken aim. A split second later, their piercing arrows had hit their target, biting deep into Howe’s flesh. “They gave him sixteene wounds with their arrowes: and after they had slaine him with their wooden swordes, beat his head in peeces and fled over the water to the maine.” His battered and mutilated corpse was discovered later in the day by a group of settlers. This was a devastating blow to their morale as well as a graphic reminder that they were all in deadly peril.
Characteristically, White’s immediate reaction was to do nothing. He had no idea who had perpetrated the attack and knew that to do battle with the wrong tribe would only add to his woes. He sought
advice from the men of Croatoan, Manteo’s tribe, who had so far accepted the English presence on Roanoke with an outward show of friendship.
White repeated his reassurance that “neither their corne, nor any other thing of theirs, should be diminished by any of us.” He informed them that supply ships were already under way and added that “our comming was onely to renew the olde love that was betweene us and them at the first, and to live with them as brethren and friendes.” This “old love” was not exactly reciprocated by the Indians, who had suffered at the hands of Ralph Lane’s soldiers after being mistakenly identified as supporters of Wingina. They complained that “divers of them were hurt the yeere before”; to stress their anger, “they shewed us one [of the wounded] which at that very instant laye lame, and had lien of that hurt ever since.” Their proposed solution was sensible and was quickly adopted: that they be given “some token or badge” so that White’s men “might know them to be our friendes when we met them anywhere out of the towne or island.” Henceforth, there would be no chance of these Indians’ being attacked by mistake.
White’s men spent the night on Croatoan Island. As soon as it was light, the governor summoned a “conference” to ask the village elders if they would help him to organise a gathering of all the tribes on Pamlico Sound. White intended to address this gathering in person, to inform the assembled Indians of his peaceful intentions. He wished to tell them “that if they would accept our friendship, we would willingly receave them againe, and that all unfriendly dealings past on both partes should be utterly forgiven and forgotten.”
White’s proposal was accepted by the elders, who “answered that they would gladly doe the best they could.” They were given a week to arrange the conference. After White had said his farewells, he spent the intervening days transferring the last of the supplies from ship to shore. Once this was completed, there was nothing to do but wait.
The big day—August 8—arrived at last. White had “expected the
coming” of the tribesmen at some point during the morning, but noon came and went without any sign of life on the shallow sound. His anxieties increased when he learned that the various chieftains had neglected “to send their answers by the men of Croatoan,” and was further alarmed when told that George Howe had been killed by the remnants of Wingina’s tribe, who were still living in the settlement just across the water.
White now concluded that the time for conciliation was over. The majority of Indians were evidently not interested in his peace overtures. “He thought to differre the revenging thereof no longer,” and planned a surprise attack that would wipe out the most hostile tribesmen once and for all. “Whereffore the same night, about midnight, he passed over the water, accompanied with Captaine Stafford and 24 men.” They were also accompanied by Manteo, “whome wee tooke with us to be our guide to the place where these savages dwelt.”
The men crossed the water long before dawn—“so earely that it was yet darke”—and landed close to Wingina’s old settlement, “the dwelling place of our enemie.” It was a tense moment. The men “very secretly conveyed our selves through the woods to that side, where we had their houses betweene us and the water.” In absolute silence, the troop crept towards the palisade that surrounded the village and soon “espied their fire, and some sitting about it.” These were the hostile survivors of Lane’s 1586 attack, and they had learned to hate the English.
White knew they were unlikely to surrender without a fight, and also realised that it would be to his advantage to seize the initiative. “We presently sette on them,” he writes; but scarcely had his men blasted their muskets than the Indians leaped back from the fire and “fledde into a place of thicke reedes growing fast by.” Although this provided good cover, White’s band was determined to flush them out and kill them. “Our men, perceaving them, shotte one of them through the bodie with a bullet, and therewith wee entred the
reedes, among which wee hoped to acquite their evill doing towards us.”
Many thought it strange that none of the Indians had yet fired back, for they were normally swift with their arrows. The reason for this soon became apparent. As White and his men crashed through the reed beds, they heard an urgent cry from Manteo, begging the English to halt their attack.
White held his fire to learn more, only to discover some horrific news. These were not Wingina’s tribe at all; he had mistakenly attacked a group of friendly Croatoans—the very men with whom he had feasted just a few days before. Their identity badges had not prevented the tragedy. A dejected White was now left with a lot of explaining. “We were deceaved,” he wrote, “for the savages were our friendes, and were come from Croatoan to gather the corne and fruite of that place because they understoode our enemies were fledde immediately after they had slaine George Howe.”
The attack had been swift but deadly. One Indian was seriously wounded, others were bleeding from shot wounds, and many were still shaking with fear, pleading for mercy from the men they recognised from their feast a few days earlier. The timing of the offensive had compounded the problem. “It was so darke,” wrote White, “[that] we knew not but that they were all men; and if that one of them, which was a
weroance
’s wife, had not had her childe at her backe, she had beene slaine in steede of a man.”
White found himself presiding over a disaster that threatened to turn his only Indian friends against him. His attack had failed in every respect, in striking contrast to Ralph Lane’s ambush the previous year. Lane’s trophy had been Wingina’s severed head. All White had achieved was a new hostility from a hitherto friendly tribe. As both sides came to terms with what had happened, the governor fell into despair and was forced to admit that the Indians “have paide deerely for it.”
Once the injured had dressed their wounds, the English and
Indians sat down to discuss what had gone wrong. Manteo explained that his kinsmen had rowed across to the abandoned settlement because the native villagers—George Howe’s murderers—had been so terrified of reprisals that they had sought refuge in the forest. “[They] had left all their corne, tabacco and pompions standing in such sorte that all had beene devoured of the birdes and deere if it had not beene gathered in time.” Manteo was clearly torn between defending the English and standing up for his old tribe, but he eventually realised that he was now so involved in the colony that his future lay with England. “Although the mistaking of these savages somewhat grieved Manteo,” writes White, “yet he imputed their harme to their owne follie, saying to them that if their weroances had kept their promise in comming to the governour at the day appointed, they had not knowen that mischance.” The governor added that he was indebted to Manteo, who had “behaved himselfe towards us as a most faithfull English man.”
The English desperately tried to make amends by working alongside the Indians, gathering the harvested crops that were stockpiled in the abandoned village. “Wee gathered all the corne, pease, pumpions and tabacco that we found ripe,” writes White, “and took Menatoan [a kinsman of Manteo], his wife, with the yong childe, and the other savages with us over the water to Roanoke.”
For the next three days, the English kept a low profile, planting crops and repairing their houses. But on Saturday, August 13, the settlers brushed down their doublets in preparation for an important and joyous ceremony. “Our savage, Manteo, by the commandment of Sir Walter Ralegh, was christened in Roanoke.” Henceforth, and “in reward of his faithful service,” he was to be known as Lord of Roanoke and Dasemunkepeuc, the village across the water. Since no one could spell this latter name, let alone pronounce it, he became known simply as Lord Manteo.
Manteo was now a governor in his own right, with semifeudal powers over the local Indians, as well as being the official representative of
Weroanza
Elizabeth of Virginia. For the time being, his
power was largely theoretical, for there were few Indians in the area and the English colonists remained under White’s command. But it was nevertheless a moment of celebration for the settlers. For the first time, England had forged an Indian in its own image, a tattooed and shaven-headed tribesman who was now so civilised that he would salute the flag of St. George. He spoke English, wore breeches and a doublet, and had even rejected his panoply of gods and devils. This was the very goal that Harriot had dreamed about when he wrote that “if means of good government bee used … [the Indians] may in short time be brought to civilitie and the imbracing of true religion.”
 
When John White realised the Indians had no interest in peace, he marched his men against a group occupying Wingina’s old settlement, unaware he was making a grave error
Five days after Manteo’s baptism, the English settlers had further cause for celebration. “Elenora, daughter to the governour and wife to Ananias Dare, one of the assistants, was delivered of a daughter in Roanoke.” This was very good news indeed. A high proportion of Elizabethan babies were stillborn, and two out of every three that survived birth were doomed to die in infancy. Many suffered from malnutrition in the womb, and a large number were born “crooked and misshapen.” Eleanor’s baby was in rude health, which filled the settlers with joy. She “was christened there the Sunday following, and because this childe was the first Christian borne in Virginia, she was named Virginia.”

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