White Seed: The Untold Story of the Lost Colony of Roanoke Page 12

  ***

  Maggie was bone weary from the trip as she made the rounds of the cottages, collecting the children for their lessons. Although the Croatoans had proved friendly, she felt more secure now that they were back within the timber walls of the fort. The children’s innocent exuberance cheered her. Little four-year-old William Lambert and Mary Bane walked directly behind her, followed by Paulina’s boy, Phillip, who was big for his three years. The Condewell twins, Jane and Joan, came next. Six years of age, each one pretty as a princess, and dressed every bit as fancy. Red-haired, eight-year-old, Sarah Hill followed the twins. Although her gentleman father had a limited means, and her plain dress showed it, Sarah carried herself like a queen. She was followed by Thomas Reed, six, and Charles Colpepper Junior, seven, who, Maggie noticed, played at tripping one another as they walked along the common. Maggie could not help smiling at their boyish play, but kept her face forward so the boys could not see. She would have to separate them when she assigned them their places in the big house, which would serve, not only as Sabbath meeting house, but also as the colony’s school. Thirteen year-old George Howe Junior, his lute over his shoulder, brought up the rear. Maggie was glad of George’s presence. His father had raised him to be a proper gentleman and he had a civilizing effect on the younger boys.

  Thomas Reed let loose a high pitched giggle, then squelched it as Maggie turned to him. Well, she thought, smiling on the inside -- most of the boys.

  They came to the big house and went inside. Maggie had the children stand in line as she and George Junior. carried the benches that would serve as chairs and desks for the children, lining them up neatly. Finishing, she led the children in saying the Lord’s Prayer. She then had George Jr. play a tune for the children on his lute. The music had more a calming effect on the children than the prayer, and again, Maggie felt relieved at being back at the fort, and joy at being entrusted to help Parson Lambert and the others in the education of the children.

  Maggie brought forward the hornbook, placing it on its wooden stand where all the children could see it. As she faced the children and waited for them to stop their fidgeting, she felt a great sense of appreciation. The Croatoans had promised to help them. They had this fort for security. God was protecting them in his own mysterious way. She knew she had made the right decision in coming here and she said a silent prayer of thanks. Picking up her knitting needle, she pointed to the hornbook.

  “Now Charles, can you tell us what this word is?”

  ***

  Ananias entered the big house with his father-in-law. The Assistants had arranged themselves around the table as they always did. All the Devonians sat on one side -- Sirs Abraham Bane, Charles Colpepper, Phillip Mattingly, James Duncan, Mortimer Reed and Anthony Stewartson, and, on the other side -- Parson Lambert and Sirs Robert Harvey and George Howe. Ananias took the chair next to Robert as Governor White sat at the head of the table. Captain Stafford sat apart at the foot of the table to indicate his special position as military commander.

  Ananias looked around at the others briefly. The gentlemen and the captain displayed every variation of beard and mustache in style. John White’s blue eyes and beardless face made stark contrast with them.

  These meetings always made Ananias nervous. He felt he did not belong with these men, but it was his duty to be here. He joined the others as they began filling their white clay pipes. Food stocks might be low, but fortunately the Croatoans had plenty of tobacco to trade them. Soon the air was blue with fragrant tobacco smoke. Governor White was first to speak.

  “Gentlemen, the Croatoan savages under Tookemay have pledged their loyalty to us, but they would like something in return.”

  Ananias marveled at Abraham Bane’s huge bulk. A tall, portly man, he had a broad, balding head tapering down to a well-trimmed pointed beard, giving his face a triangular cast. Sir Abraham was obviously the Devon gentlemen’s leader. “Pray tell what would that be,” he said with a smile, “hawks bells and colored glass beads?”

  Ananias laughed with the others. Like most Englishmen, he had heard that the savages were poor traders, not knowing the value to things.

  “More likely Chinese porcelains, French wines and Venetian glass,” said Sir Phillip Mattingly. The diminutive gentleman laughed at his own joke with a high-pitched giggle. Used to a leisurely gentleman’s life, Sir Phillip was rotund and soft looking, with a full beard, sensual lips and large, moist brown eyes.

  “They will want the usual useless truk,” said Sir Mortimer Reed in annoyance. The hair in the center of Sir Mortimer’s head had receded, leaving two black tufts on either side, which he combed back, giving him a horned appearance. “Give them their truk and be done with it.”

  “Aye,” said Captain Stafford with a smile, as the gentlemen laughed again.

  Ananias’s face reddened as he realized that neither Sir Robert nor Sir George had laughed, nor had Governor White.

  “Aye,” said White, “they want truk and such. But they also want a badge that will distinguish them from the other tribes in the area.”

  “Why indulge the savages with a badge?” said Sir Abraham. He glared at Ananias for agreement. Ananias looked away nervously. He could not take their side against his own father-in-law.

  “Aye,” said Captain Stafford, “if you indulge one pack of them, the others will want similar things.”

  “They have suffered much at English hands already,” said Parson Lambert in a soft, tentative voice. “This would be a means of making amends.” Ananias thought kindly of the parson since he obviously shared his own feeling of being a fish out of water at these meetings

  Captain Stafford glared at the little parson and Ananias noticed how the parson wilted under the look. “Amends?” scoffed Stafford. “Nonsense! We should not indulge them. If they obey, then they will suffer no harm from us.”

  Sir George spoke in a calm, resolute voice. “I say we do it. It will give them confidence in our pledges of friendship.”

  The gentleman-soldier’s tone counterbalanced Stafford’s intimidating bellow and gave Ananias courage. “I agree,” he said. “It costs us little.”

  Sir Abraham scowled. “Enough, then.” He turned to Governor White. “Agreed. Give them their badges.”

  “Aye!” barked Captain Stafford. “Give them their badges and be done with it.”

  Governor White nodded. “I have already promised them.”

  Captain Stafford guffawed. “And yet you waste our time in discussion?”

  Sir Abraham turned to Governor White. “What sort of badge did you have in mind, Governor?”

  “Something simple,” said White, “a stamped brass plate they could wear around their necks.”

  “Why not work up a coat of arms for them, too,” sneered Sir Mortimer.

  “Aye,” said Sir Phillip, already beginning to giggle, “a wooden club and an ear of corn on a field of green.”

  Ananias’s face reddened at the barb, knowing that it was partly aimed at him and his father-in-law, for they had been elevated to gentleman’s status by Sir Walter for this plantation venture. Raleigh had even had coats of arms commissioned for them.

  Governor White ignored Sirs Mortimer and Phillip and turned to Ananias. “Talk to the blacksmith. See that he starts on it tomorrow.”

  Ananias nodded.

  “There is one other matter that I wish to discuss,” said White.

  The others waited for White to go on.

  “In Manteo’s village of Croatoan,” said White, “the people catch many fish with traps which they construct in the shallows of the river. I wish to have Manteo supervise the building of such a fish weir here also.”

  “Aye,” said Sir Abraham tiredly, “‘tis agreed.” The other gentlemen’s silence signaled their agreement.

  “Now,” declared Captain Stafford, “a vastly more pressing problem than badges for savages requires yer attention.”

  “What is that?” said White.

  “Our grain shortage.”
>
  Sir Robert had been on the verge of falling asleep all through the meeting after spending a sleepless night. Margary was in a great deal of pain and they had thought the baby was coming early. Fortunately, that had not happened. Now the words “grain shortage” brought him full awake. “Shortage?” he exclaimed, “Only yesterday I was informed by the ships’ force that every hogshead had been accounted for and that they are all locked up in the storehouse.”

  “Nonetheless,” said Captain Stafford, “we face a severe shortage.”

  White frowned. “Then what is the problem, Captain? We have no time for guessing games.”

  “Aye,” said Captain Stafford, “‘tis better I show yeh.” He got to his feet. “Gentlemen, if ye will follow me to the storehouse, please.”

  A few moments later Sir Robert stood in the gloom of the storehouse with the others. Several soldiers held pine knot torches aloft. Rows of barrels, stacked two high, ran from one end of the room to the other. Stafford turned to a soldier standing nearby and pointed. “Open that one!”

  The soldier pried the barrel open with the point of his sword and threw the top to the ground. Robert and the others crowded close. The barrel was less than half full of grain.

  “What happened?” Sir Phillip demanded of Captain Stafford.

  Stafford eyed the little gentleman coldly. “Nothing happened here, sir. We are the victims of an unscrupulous London purveyor.”

  Governor White looked around worriedly. He pointed to the barrels in the distance. “Open another.”

  Two soldiers pulled another barrel down and pried it open. Again they crowded around to find that it was only a third full. Captain Stafford opened another barrel and Sir Mortimer stuck his head in. “Less than half!” he shouted angrily. “They have cheated us.”

  Sir Robert thought of the child that would soon be born to his wife. And the Dares’ expected arrival. “They’ve done more than that,” he said, “they’ve put us at grave risk.”

  “Now there are two who will hang back in London,” said Governor White. “So help me, God, Fernandes and this greedy merchant shall hang.”

  Robert frowned. As much as he admired John White as a kindly man, an artist and devoted father, he was beginning to think that he had been a poor choice for governor. Hanging some merchant a year from now did nothing to change their situation.

  He said aloud to no one in particular, “But what do we do now about our shortage?”

  “We shall have to trade for grain with the Croatoan savages,” said Sir George.

  Sir Phillip sputtered shrilly. “But what if they have not enough?”

  “Then we shall take what we need from another tribe,” growled Captain Stafford.

  Governor White held up his hand to quiet the others. “We will discuss this further tomorrow when we know exactly where we stand.” The gentlemen continued to argue angrily as they filed out of the dim storehouse.

  Sir Robert remained with Governor White and George as the other gentlemen walked outside.

  White turned to Captain Stafford. “Have your men combine the contents of the barrels and take a complete inventory. Then, report back to me. We must know exactly how much grain we have.”

  “Aye, Governor.”

  White walked off.

  Sirs Robert and George watched the soldiers poke into more barrels. Captain Stafford turned to several of his men still standing about. “Ye heard the gentleman. We have work to do.”

  Sir Robert and Sir George exchanged looks at the inflection Stafford had given the word, ‘gentleman.’ They stepped closer.

  “Captain Stafford?” said Sir George.

  The big man turned to him.

  “Governor White is more a gentleman than most born to title. Please remember that.”

  Robert noticed the cunning in Captain Stafford’s smile. John White might be a disappointment as a leader, but so was this captain, and he needed to be taken down a peg.

  “Of course he is, sir,” said Stafford. “I meant no ill toward him.”

  Robert turned to Sir George, “I am sure Captain Stafford did not mean any offense.” Then, to remind Captain Stafford of his place he said to him, “Your father was stable master to Sir William Mackay, was he not?”

  The smile disappeared from Stafford’s face to be replaced by a red hue. “Aye, sir. That he was.”

  Robert smiled benignly as he turned to Sir George. “You could not find a more loyal fellow in all of Cornwall than Captain Stafford’s father.”

  Captain Stafford said nothing.

  “And,” said Robert, continuing to smile, “he made sure that young William kept those stables clean. Is that not true, William?”

  Captain Stafford’s voice was devoid of feeling as his face grew even redder. “Aye, sir,” he said. “‘Tis so.”

  “You see,” said Robert to Sir George, “the apple never falls far from the tree. I think we need have no doubts about Captain Stafford’s loyalty.”

  “Aye,” said Sir George, “well said.”

  “You may continue with your work now, Captain,” said Robert.

  As the captain bowed slightly, Robert noted the unmistakable spark of hatred in the man’s eyes.

  Chapter 13

  August 9, 1587. Roanoke

  It was late afternoon when Sir George Howe nodded to the soldier who was to protect him whilst he went crabbing. They walked down to where the shallop was pulled up onto the beach. There, Manteo and four soldiers stood waist-deep in the waters of the sound, driving wooden poles into the mud to make the colony’s fish trap. Sir George watched for a moment, then nodded at the soldier and they walked south along the beach. After they had gone a good distance, and Manteo and the others were out of sight, they came to a little stream that cut through the sand, forming a deep pool where it met the sea. Sir George stopped. He turned to the young soldier. “Well now, lad. This looks to be a good place.”

  Thomas nodded. As Sir George lowered his bait into the water, Thomas went up to stand in the shade cast by the trees. He was pleased that the Lieutenant had given him this duty. The rest of the soldiers were either marching and drilling in the hot sun or working at various tasks like those constructing the fish traps. Thomas watched the gentleman, smiling whenever he dropped a crab into his basket. This gentleman was tolerable. But Thomas held the rest of them in contempt. Although his life with the soldiers was harder than any servingman’s, he preferred it that way.

  Thomas turned every so often to peer into the forest, making sure all was safe from that quarter. He thought of Maggie. He seldom saw her, except at Sabbath services or a glimpse of her going off with one of the other servants to fetch water or work in the fields. He still wanted her badly, but she would have nothing to do with him. That hurt him deeply, but he took comfort in his growing acceptance by the captain and his soldiers. Perhaps as his stature rose in their eyes, so would it in hers. The Captain had already issued him a breastplate, helmet and a sword.

  Time passed and Thomas was startled to see a figure in the distance, in the direction of the shallop, waving at him. He waved back, then called to Sir George to tell him he was going to investigate, but the gentleman ignored him, being thoroughly engrossed with his crab catching. Thomas slowly walked down the beach to see what was wanted of him. He would return to the gentleman as soon as he determined that. As he drew closer he saw that the figure was none other than Captain Stafford, and he quickened his pace. ‘Twas not wise to keep the captain waiting.

  “What be yeh doin’ up there, lad?” Captain Stafford asked as Thomas came up.

  Thomas pointed back to where he had been. “The Lieutenant told me to keep an eye on the gentleman whilst he catched crabs.”

  “Well, come with me now.”

  Captain Stafford turned and began walking back toward Fort Raleigh. Thomas fell into step behind him. “What about the footprints, Captain?” said Thomas. “The Lieutenant said they found bare foot prints the other day along the creek bed.”

  Stafford did
not break his stride, nor did he turn round as he replied. “Old. Perhaps a fortnight old. The savages would not dare set foot on the island now that we be back.”

  Thomas cast a last look back at the distant speck that was Sir George, wondering how many crabs he would catch for his dinner.

  Sir George felt the heft of the sack hanging from his belt and guessed he now had over a dozen of the creatures, having lost count. He turned round and looked for the soldier, but didn’t see him. The sun had sunk low. Something moved in the trees. Sir George decided the soldier had gone in there to piss. He looked back at the sound and the barrier islands beyond. He thought of the Devonian gentlemen Assistants and their secret meetings with Captain Stafford. ‘Twas something he would have to get to the bottom of in time. Given the precariousness of their situation here, White needed the complete loyalty of his Assistants and his Captain. And any who would not give that would have to be put on the next ship back to England.

  Sir George looked down into the water and saw a dark form stealthily creeping toward his line and bait. He stood stock-still, breathing the fecund sea air deep into his lungs. He wondered if Manteo had collected the spice that he had promised him. Thrown into the boiling water with the crabs, Manteo claimed it would increase their flavor a hundred-fold.

  Sir George heard a noise behind. He was about to turn round when something slammed hard into his back and he throbbed with red-hot pain. He turned his head and saw the shaft of an arrow sticking out of him. Before he could cry out or move, several more slammed into him and he collapsed into the water.

  ***

  Wanchese, Big Dog, Bear Man and Towaye, came out of the tree line. They dragged the body up onto the sand. A wave broke over the body and thick blood oozed from the many wounds, coloring the wave froth a bright pink. No one spoke. The little waves collapsed with a slapping sound. Big Dog probed the body with his foot. He turned it over, the weight of it snapping off one of the arrows loudly.

  Wanchese waded out into the water and bent to pick something up. “Towaye’s arrow floats on the waters. He has been with the English too long, eh? He no longer knows how to hit his target?”