Cate of the Lost Colony (18 page)

Part III

Chapter 29

From the Papers of Sir Walter Ralegh

Memorandum

15 March 1588. Two items pertaining to my Roanoke colony: In Cornwall my fleet of six small ships, commanded by Grenville, prepares to slip through the embargo and sail for the island with supplies. Second, Thomas Harriot’s report on Virginia is newly published, rebuking the malcontents who have spread their lies and praising the marvelous commodities of the land. I would expect a surge of investors and adventurers were a war with Spain not imminent.

29 March 1588. My plans are foiled. The queen’s Privy Council has ordered Grenville to join my ships to Sir Francis Drake’s fleet for the defense of the coast. Drake does not need those ships. It must be Walsingham who conspires against me. But now is not the time to defy the council, with the Spanish Armada preparing to invade.

2 April 1588. I have tried to question Simon Fernandes about the events of last July and August, but he will not satisfy me. And John White’s sense of honor prevents him from speaking ill of his assistants. His only ambition is to see his family again, while that of every other man in England is to rip out the heart of Spain in battle.

How then shall I weigh the charges in Catherine’s letter? When I distinguish myself in this pending battle, I shall defy Walsingham and petition Her Majesty to permit me to sail for Virginia. There I will mete out justice and rescue my colonists. This must earn my lady’s gratitude and, I dare hope, her love.

15 April 1588. I appealed to Her Majesty to hold back two of my ships because of defects that made them unsuitable for her war fleet. She gave me leave to send them to Virginia, saying none of her subjects should perish through her inaction. (By her response, I
know
it was Walsingham who stayed my ships.)

But my canny mistress again prevents my going, appointing me to her Council of War. It is a golden opportunity to shape her policy toward Spain. In my judgment we ought to take to the seas and attack the Armada, not sit like ducks and wait for the fox to attack us, which is Walsingham’s strategy.

22 April 1588. Today the
Brave
and the
Roe
sailed from Bideford with John White and eleven passengers, including four women. I advised them to follow a direct northern route, despite the risk of contrary winds, to reduce their chances of encountering the Spanish.

15 May 1588. The pope has excommunicated our queen yet again and calls upon her subjects to depose her. The astrologists predict an apocalypse of storms, fires, and sinking ships. If only they could declare who will prevail and spare us the descriptions that serve no purpose but to terrify.

25 May 1588. The
Brave
and the
Roe
limped back to port after being attacked and boarded by the French. What irony, when all the fear is of war with Spain. Twenty-three were killed and White injured in the head and shot in the buttocks. He is swathed in bandages from head to foot but swears he will sail again once his injuries are healed.

25 July 1588. A great battle is imminent. On the 19
th
the Armada was sighted and skirmishes reported. Now the Spanish war fleet nears Calais to join the Duke of Parma’s army and then invade our shores. Her Majesty’s navy follows with my own
Ark Ralegh
as the flagship: a wonder at 1,100 tons, 100 feet from keel to keel, with four masts and three banks of guns.

30 July 1588. In Calais harbor our fire-ships packed with wood and pitch sailed among Spain’s galleons like nimble dogs baiting slow-moving bears. Winds fanned the flames, crippling the great ships and destroying their formation. It was a glorious rout, the godly David victorious over the wicked Goliath! Not a single English vessel was lost, and what remains of the mighty Armada flees northward, attempting to return to Spain by going around Scotland.

20 August 1588. Providence continues to assist our victory, raising winds that wreck the Spanish ships off Scotland and Ireland. The threat of Spain lifts like the fog. Our Elizabeth is justly celebrated as the greatest prince in Christendom. Ballads are sung all over London, and her speech to the troops at Tilbury camp repeated on every man’s tongue. She said:

“I am resolved to live or die amongst you all, to lay down for my God and for my kingdom and for my people, my honor and my blood even in the dust. I know that I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king.”

I wish I had been there! According to reports, she was dressed all in white, armed like an Amazon empress, and rode among the troops on a white gelding.

I repent ever thinking ill of this virtuous virgin or resenting my duty toward her. It is the grace of God that gives her such courage and through her moves England to victory. May I live long enough to show her my regard, my grateful love.

Chapter 30

Serpents in Paradise

A
s a poem may beautify a plain mistress or feign love, so can a flowing discourse beautify a harsh wilderness. If Virginia had ever been the paradise described by the writers Barlowe and Harriot or the one painted by John White, it had fallen from grace in an astonishingly short while.

Did the
Lion
bring the serpent that corrupted the garden, or was it living here before we arrived? Did Harriot and White ignore it in their eagerness to promote the virtues of the land? Were they, with all their knowledge, as innocent as I was? For I believed my efforts to aid the Croatoan women would benefit us all. I hoped a desire for the common good would prevail over the cruelty and self-interest of men like Roger Bailey. Finally, to my grief, I believed Manteo’s authority was enough to check the serpent Wanchese and his minions.

After killing George Howe in August, Wanchese did not strike until the following spring. One morning the fishing weirs were discovered pulled up from the riverbed and broken apart. Two weeks later the armory was raided and four muskets taken, along with bandoliers and gunpowder. The guards swore they had not been drunk or asleep, so they were only flogged. We could not afford to lose any more men by hanging. I wondered if Tameoc was one of the thieves. Graham had not revealed his theft of the sword. Of course the assistants suspected Wanchese, and the evidence that he was nearby made everyone alert and nervous.

But Wanchese was not the only serpent on Roanoke Island. In our very own settlement was a nest of them, stirring up discord and dividing us against ourselves.

Roger Bailey had decreed that the entire colony would move to Chesapeake. He sent Christopher Cooper and forty men to find a location for a settlement and begin planting. Ananias objected—as John White had—that the separation would make both parties vulnerable, but Bailey ignored him. So Cooper sailed in the pinnace, taking Manteo with him to smooth relations with the Indians. Ambrose Vickers was also in the party, for he was in favor of the move to Chesapeake.

While his father was absent, tragedy befell young Edmund Vickers. Playing outside the palisade, he stepped on an iron caltrops laid there to deter the Indians. The spike penetrated his foot, which became swollen, then gangrenous. His fever raged, red streaks shot up his leg, and the surgeon decided the entire limb had to be cut off. Alice and I were there to assist him when Betty, learning of his decision, began to rave and pray incessantly.

“Be silent, Mistress Vickers, for your own good,” the surgeon admonished her.

“Hush, Mama!” the boy pleaded. His eyes were wide with pain and alarm.

“Leave her be; she is distressed,” I said out of pity for her and the boy.

“But she is calling out to the saints!” the surgeon said.

“See if there are some spirits in the house. That may quiet her,” Alice said.

I went to the cupboard and threw it open. There, nestled among some empty jars were candle stubs, a cross with a figure nailed to it, and a small statue of a woman in a blue robe.

Alice was looking over my shoulder. “The Virgin!” she whispered.

“Oh blessed Mary, Saint Joseph, and holy John the baptizer, save my son,” cried Betty. “Afflict me instead, for I have done wrong by living among the ungodly—” Her words dissolved into tears and she dropped her head to her son’s chest.

Thus it was revealed that Betty Vickers was a papist.

The surgeon, a man without prejudice, cut the boy’s leg off out of mercy, but Edmund died in the night.

The next morning Bailey had every cupboard, trunk, and bedstead in the village searched. The yield was two Latin psalters, a set of rosary beads, another statue, and two brass crosses, all found among the possessions of Ambrose Vickers and his kin. Ambrose and his nephew had gone to Chesapeake, but the grieving Betty and her brother were brought forth and shackled.

“We have sheltered papists in our bosom, and therefore we do not prosper,” shouted John Chapman angrily. His hair, which had turned white in the last year, flew about his head.

Murmuring rose and then the cries began. “Flog them!” “No, hang them!”

Seeing Betty in chains horrified me. I couldn’t speak up, for I didn’t even know what to say. It was one thing to object to the torture of a simpleton, another to defend an admitted papist. It was Ananias who demanded that judgment be postponed until Cooper’s party returned, so Ambrose and his nephew could be questioned, too. Betty and her brother were put under guard. Little Edmund was buried at the base of a tree far removed from the cemetery where George Howe and all those who died in the winter had been laid to rest.

A week later, eight men of the original forty-one straggled back to the island in a leaky shallop. Manteo was with them. Their tale was a disturbing one. They had reached Chesapeake without incident and begun their work. Then the eight men had gone upriver in the shallop to explore, and when they returned a week later, the pinnace was gone. Five bodies were found dead on the shore and in the camp. Christopher Cooper was one of the dead. Everything useful had been taken from the camp.

Bailey drew his conclusion at once. “It was the Indians. You have betrayed us,” he said, confronting Manteo.

“Musket shot killed them,” Manteo said, staying calm. “Their own betrayed them.”

Griffen Jones, a Welshman and a farmer who was the leader of the eight explorers, nodded. “Manteo is right. There were malcontents among us. While we were exploring, they must have decided to chance a return to England. They shot the ones who tried to resist. And they didn’t stay to bury their bodies,” he said, his mouth tense with anger.

“But they had no provisions for a sea crossing,” said Ananias in disbelief.

“With luck they could make the Azores in a few weeks’ time and find passage on another ship,” said Bailey. He clenched his fists as if to keep the rest of his power from slipping through his fingers.

“Who planned this? I want to know who betrayed us,” said Ananias. “Now we’ve lost thirty-two men and the pinnace to boot!”

Thirty-two men. With those who had already died, I counted forty-five lost, almost half of our original number. Now there were barely enough men to defend the fort. On the other hand, there were fewer mouths to be fed if the next winter should prove harsh.

And then John Chapman suggested the conspiracy. “It was the papists who plotted this. Ambrose and his nephew are on that pinnace. They were in league with that Irish seaman and Fernandes from the beginning. Now they’ve sailed off to rendezvous with the Spanish.” His face grew red and he tottered, making me wonder if he was drunk. “Mark my words, one morning we’ll wake up to find ourselves murdered by the Spanish.”

At this I stifled a laugh, drawing suspicious looks. Well, if people were going to stare at me, they might as well hear me.

“Mark instead what nonsense Master Chapman speaks, ” I said. “How could Vickers or anyone have planned a rendezvous with Spain a year ago, not knowing the circumstances in which we would find ourselves now?”

Some looked away abashed, while a few nodded. Bailey and his allies regarded me with hostility.

“Moreover, being a papist does not make a traitor of a man—or a woman,” I added in Betty’s defense.

“But what if they
are
guilty?” someone shouted.

“Now is the time to find out,” Bailey said, heading for the armory where Betty and her brother were being held.

Silently I berated myself for speaking out. Why could I not learn to hold my tongue? Now Betty would be judged by the four assistants who remained: Bailey, two lazy gentlemen who did his bidding, and Ananias.

Everyone crowded into the armory as Betty and her brother were brought forward. Betty’s eyes were wide with dread and her lips moved in prayer. Bailey questioned her first, perhaps thinking she would confess easily. But she shook her head when asked to reveal the details of her husband’s plot. Bailey held up a pair of iron pliers. Still she confessed nothing. He placed her fingers in the pliers and pressed. She gritted her teeth, and he pressed harder. I saw Ananias cringe. I stared at Betty’s brother, willing him to confess in her stead, but his eyes were tightly closed. There was a crack of bone and Betty screamed the names of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Jane Pierce, far gone with Bailey’s child, fainted. Alice and I carried her out and laid her on a bench. My own stomach was churning. I wished with all my being that Roger Bailey would be struck dead.

Georgie Howe stood by the door of the armory, rocking back and forth, fear in his eyes.

“Papa’s in the ground. Georgie is cold,” he said, although there was sweat on his forehead.

“Cate is cold, too, Georgie,” I said.

After Roger Bailey broke three of Betty’s fingers, her brother shouted out what everyone waited to hear: that he and Ambrose had conspired with Fernandes to betray the location of Fort Ralegh to the Spanish. I was certain he lied, except in swearing that Betty was innocent. Still, Bailey decreed that they would be taken to the mainland, rowed upriver in the shallop, and left to fend for themselves. It was a sentence of death, more cruel even than hanging. The punishment stunned everyone, and Bailey had to carry it out himself to ensure that it was done.

I simmered with rage against Bailey and all the assistants. A sense of my own guilt and helplessness plagued me. Every one of us, I felt, had been complicit in making the Vickers family scapegoats for our fears. The only innocent one was little Virginia, who smelled of milk and sweetness, her happy smile belying the suffering all around her.

My desire to escape the company of the other colonists made me decide to go to Dasemunkepeuc on that fateful day. Graham, as usual, accompanied me. Alice left her baby with Eleanor and joined us, saying she was weary of her husband’s talk of conspiracies. Jane Pierce was also glad to come. She had confessed to me she was afraid of Roger Bailey.

“He has called me a whore and denied the child is his,” she said, pulling up her sleeves to show me the bruises on her arms.

“You must not marry him,” I said. “All your days will be miserable.”

“But it would make me an outcast to have no father for my baby,” she said, touching her belly.

“I will be your friend,” I said, “if you promise not to be such a gossip.” Once she had asked me if I had a lover at the Indians’ village, to which I had responded with a cold stare.

We were in the rowboat when, to my surprise, Manteo appeared on the shore.

“I do not wish you to go to Dasemunkepeuc,” he said. “You may be in danger there.”

Jane glanced from Manteo to me and raised her eyebrows. I knew what she was thinking and I gave her a warning look.

“Lord Manteo,” I said. “At present we are in more danger from certain men here at Fort Ralegh.”

“
You do not understand. Some of the Croatoan have gone over to Wanchese
,” he said to me in his tongue.

“
Surely not our friends at Dasemunkepeuc,
” I said. “
They are too few to merit Wanchese’s interest.
”

Rather than argue, Manteo climbed into the boat. He picked up an oar and stood in the stern holding it like a staff. To show his displeasure, he refused to row. His back was to me. A deerskin hung down over his loins, and a leather thong held his bow and a case of arrows behind his shoulder. The muscles in his legs quivered, holding him in perfect balance.

I took a spare oar and, surprised by my own strength, helped Graham row the crowded little boat to Dasemunkepeuc. The village looked as peaceful as ever. Because of the warm day, the mats over the doors of Tameoc’s house were tied back. Jane exclaimed over everything from the houses to the frames for tanning hides, for this was her first visit to the village. A bowl of grain sat beside a quern as if someone had just been grinding it. Then Mika appeared at the door. If I had looked more closely at her eyes, I might have seen a warning there. But I was watching with some dismay the direction of Graham’s gaze, which had settled on Mika’s uncovered breasts.

Jane also noticed and began to giggle.

“Where is everyone?” Alice said.

And then events befell in a confused and rapid sequence.

Manteo shouted a warning and drew out his bow. Graham whirled around and aimed his musket. From the bushes warriors rushed forth with sharp cries. They were bedecked with feathers and paint and carried their muskets as if they were mattocks for breaking the ground. Graham fired but had no time to reload before they were upon him. Jane, Alice, and I fell to the ground in a huddle, too frightened even to cry out.

Manteo was soon disarmed by the leader of the attackers, a smaller Indian with a beaked nose and scars on his face. I recognized him from long ago, when he strode with Manteo into the queen’s banquet hall. It was the hated Wanchese. He and Manteo were arguing, speaking so rapidly I could not understand them.

“Manteo, you betrayed us!” cried Graham.

Manteo turned to him with a look of fierce denial. I did not want to believe he had led us into a trap. He had warned us, after all.
Some of the Croatoan have gone over to Wanchese.

Then I saw the sword Tameoc had stolen—in Wanchese’s hand. Tameoc himself stood beside the Roanoke chief. I thought he had promised John White he would not become Wanchese’s ally. Since then he had not only stolen the sword, but apparently the muskets now in the Roanoke warriors’ hands.

“Graham, don’t blame Manteo. It was Tameoc’s doing,” I said. “See the sword?” I suspected Tameoc had been forced to do Wanchese’s bidding, for he would not have given up the fine sword of his own will.

The warriors made us rise and they bound our hands. Alice began to weep.

“My son, my dear little boy, what will he do without his mother?”

“
Let her go. She has an infant to care for
,” Manteo said.

Wanchese hesitated, then motioned for Alice to be freed.

“
Take her back. And warn the English what their fate will be if they do not leave the island
,” Wanchese ordered Manteo.

“
If I return there, they will say I gave you these captives, and they will kill me
,” Manteo said. “
If I am dead, who will persuade the rest of the Croatoan to take your side?
”