the sunbeams were playing hide and seek with the ripples around the prows of three small vessels lying at anchor in the harbor of portsmouth. their decks were crowded with the colonists going to seek a home on the soil of virginia. on the wharf all was bustle and confusion. the songs of the sailors loading the vessels with the goods of the voyagers mingled with the whip and snap of the sails as they were given to the breeze.

at last the creaking of the capstan as the anchors were hoisted on board sounded the warning note of departure. leading the diminutive fleet was the good ship admiral, having as her master simon ferdinando. closely in her wake followed a pinnace and a flyboat, and from the masthead of all three fluttered the english flag. they were not to leave england, however, until they had stopped at two of her ports on their way out.

10

for eight days they tarried at the isle of wight, and two more in the harbor of plymouth. as they sailed out of this quaint old harbor the balmy air of may wafted the fragrant farewell of the hawthorn blossoms even to the water’s edge.

“how hard it is to bid farewell to home and friends and turn my face to this unknown land,” said eleanor dare to herself as she stood on the deck of the admiral. “there is a strange fear welling up in my heart as if some unknown shadow were falling upon us.

“but i must not even breathe such a thought to my husband, it would dampen the hope of home and fortune which is buoying him up. i must rather cheer and encourage him; i must hide the heart sickness, and leave our future in the hands of god.”

fainter and fainter grew the outlines of old england’s shores, until only the dim bluffs of cornwall, like a mirage, lay on the horizon. as eleanor dare strained her eyes to catch the last glimpse before the curve of the earth hid them from view, her husband drew her to him.

“dear heart, turn your eyes to the west, to home and happiness. see how the sun11 is making a pathway of light for our ship. is it not a good omen?”

she smiled up into his face bravely and was rewarded by a look of love and reverence.

“you know, my husband, that my home is in your heart.”

skirting southward for seven days the little fleet came into the bay of portugal, where they took on a supply of fresh water for the long journey to the west indies. ferdinando, the master of the admiral, gave secret orders to the captains of his ship and the pinnace to set sail at the coming of night. no such commands reached the little flyboat. basely deserting her, the admiral turned his prows to the southwest.

for two long months the frail ships tossed on the troubled waters of the atlantic. only the sullen swish of the waves and the scream of the seagull broke in on eleanor dare’s reveries.

fragrant june was waning, when she saw the waving palms and orange groves of santa cruz rising beyond the foam-capped billows. just before the ships reached this island of gorgeous bloom from the lookout at the masthead rang the cry, “sail ho!” and, ploughing her way through12 the choppy sea, there came the courageous little flyboat. for, undaunted by ignorance of the trackless waste and by the base desertion of the admiral in command, she had pluckily followed her consort.

no sooner had they landed than the merry laughter and joyous shouts of the little children filled the air as they chased the crimson and gold butterflies sipping honey from the orchids which hung from the tall fern trees. no cares or longing troubled their light hearts, but their parents were eager to reach their new home, so the sails were again spread.

july had numbered twenty-two days when the vessels came in sight of a long fringe of islands guarded by dangerous reefs. the white foam of the breakers tossed high in the air and the moan of the surf filled the children with fear.

down rattled the anchor of the admiral, and the sails were close-furled, as the pinnace came alongside to take the colony through the dangerous entry to roanoke island. safely passing through the hungry mouth of trinity harbor, they glided into the quiet waters of the occam.

would the fifteen men left by sir richard13 greenville come to meet them? a loud halloo brought back no answering hail.

“we must search for them,” said governor white. “perhaps they are farther inland.”

as the pinnace grounded her nose the anglican priest stepped on the land, bearing aloft the sign of redemption. around his feet were grouped the children, their tiny hands clasped together, and guarded by a circle of kneeling men and women. deep and fervent was the thanksgiving prayer, and clear and sweet came the chant of the amen.

rising from their knees they eagerly explored the land around them. a living landscape, vivid and beautiful, lay spread before their eyes. great yellow pines like the masts of ships towered above them. cedars, the rivals of lebanon, mingled their branches with the live oak, tulip, and walnut trees, while closer to mother earth clung the sassafras and witch hazel. scuppernong grapes flung their vines, loaded with ripening fruit, from limb to limb of the copper beeches and bathed their trailing branches in the briny waters of the occam.

dotted all around were the log cabins left by the previous settlers. melon vines14 with luscious fruits festooned the windows and carpeted the floors, and in their open doors stood the startled deer poised for flight. the gardens were overgrown in weeds and fences were broken down. the little children ran hither and thither chasing the “lazy lawrence” as it danced in the sun, and over all hung the languorous air of july, steeped in the fragrance of blossoming jasmine and magnolia.

soon the bright blades of the axes made flashes in the sun, and down came the pine, filling the air with the perfume of its crushed needles. many another cabin was added to the “city of raleigh.”

meanwhile, a party headed by governor white had searched the island for the missing men. far in the heart of the forest they came upon their bleaching skeletons, and they decently interred them.

eleanor dare chose the cedar cabin, which lane had used, as a home for herself and her husband, and she occupied herself busily in transforming its interior into a restful abiding-place; in one corner was a mahogany chest with shining brass handles; over the wide fireplace hung a bit of landscape of her girlhood’s home; and the pewter plates upon the dresser reflected the dancing flames leaping up the chimney.15 in the center of the room stood a table of english oak.

one evening the table was spread for the evening meal, and now and then eleanor dare paused at the window to watch the swaying of the wonderful gray moss draping the mighty live-oaks.

as she bent over the fire stirring the contents of a copper kettle hanging on the crane, her husband entered and gently chided her for too much exertion.

“come rest beside me on the settle, dear heart, and let us talk of the future. soon your tender hands will have new duties to perform,” and sitting side by side they talked together as the twilight shadows fell.

in the hush of the august morn, just as the mocking-birds chanted “the creation,” a tiny babe—a babe with eleanor’s eyes—nestled in the hollow of eleanor dare’s arm. her husband bending over her mingled his kisses with the magnificat breathing on her lips, and soon came the women of the colony to inquire after mother and child and offer their congratulations to the happy father.

little children, peeping in at the door of16 the cabin, shyly laid their offering of red clover and honeysuckle upon the sill. many were the questions they asked of the smiling father of the new-born babe.

“is it a boy or a girl,” asked ambrose viccars.

“i’m glad it is a girl,” said tiny robert ellis. “there will be somebody to play with me. can she talk and eat? how soon will she be able to play puss in corner?”

seven days had the little babe lain on her mother’s breast, and on the eighth day she was to be christened. the sunday sun shed its gorgeous rays over the simple church, where the priest, clad in surplice and stole, awaited her coming. with the babe went manteo of the croatans, the faithful friend of the english, for he too was to receive baptism as sir walter raleigh had commanded.

hither had come the men of the colony clad in brightly hued doublet and hose, their wives and sisters wearing gowns with long pointed stomachers and high standing ruffs. near the door was winginia and his catawbas, their long scalp-locks decorated with the feathers of the eagle. grouped around the white-robed pastor stood governor white, roger bailey and joyce archer, sponsors for manteo.17 behind them was ananias dare holding his little daughter.

rising from his knees with the consecrated drops still glistening on his brow, manteo turned to dare and said:

“i too am a follower of the god of the english. the totem of his tribe is tattooed on my brow. let me hold the little pale face to be received into the tribe.”

“joyfully will i give her into your keeping,” replied her father. “she shall be as your daughter,” and he placed the babe in his arms.

then came the sonorous voice of the priest:

“virginia, i baptize thee in the name of the father and of the son and of the holy ghost. we receive this child into the congregation of christ’s flock, and do sign her with the sign of the cross, in token that hereafter she shall not be ashamed to own christ crucified, and manfully to fight under his banner against sin, the world, and the devil, and to continue christ’s faithful soldier and servant unto her life’s end. amen.”

then reverently he gave her back into the indian’s keeping.

forth stalked manteo into the sunlight with the little virginia held close in his18 arms, and went straightway to the bedside of eleanor dare.

“i have brought you the little papoose. the great spirit has bound us together, and dear shall she be to manteo as the ruddy drops of his heart.”

but all was not well with the “city of raleigh.” food and supplies which the country did not as yet produce were needed. some one must go back to the mother country for them. when it came to selecting a proper person no one wished to go. one and all they urged governor white to go as the one most fitting to represent their needs, to take the task upon himself. he too was unwilling to leave.

“men will say that with fair words i have enticed you to this land, and now in your need desert you and leave you to face the enmity of the indians.”

but the pleadings of the colony finally prevailed, and with a heavy heart he consented to go.

“keep strict watch and ward while i am gone. i do not like the sullen look of winginia and his catawbas. it is but a few weeks since george howe’s mangled body was found some two miles distant.19 winginia took his life in revenge of the cruel treatment of ralph lane’s men. if you abandon this settlement, as we have purposed doing, carve the name of your destination upon a tree or post. if danger threatens, place a cross above the name.”

he kissed his daughter, and taking the little virginia in his arms, gave the child his blessing.

standing on the beach with her baby at her breast, eleanor dare waved a last farewell to the father whom she was never to see again.

after a voyage beset with one accident after another, governor white arrived in england, only to find himself caught in the maelstrom of war.

under her sovereign majesty elizabeth, england was rising to a position where she would soon be a formidable rival to the countries of europe. her ships had penetrated to the white sea of northern russia; the dusky tribes of guinea traveled many miles through the tropical forests of the soudan to sell their ivory and gold to the trading vessels of england. antwerp and bruges merchants settled in london, thereby transferring much of the trade of india and the far east from flanders to england;20 and sir francis drake had circumnavigated the globe.

not only had commercial enterprise filled the coffers of elizabeth, but the untilled recesses of men’s minds were beginning to flower again.

sir philip sidney had enriched the world with his arcadia, and immortal sonnets. edmund spenser was fighting out the battle between good and evil in his faerie queen, and francis bacon was delving into the secrets of nature.

behind the fame of commercial enterprise and the glory of the literary renaissance loomed the struggle with philip of spain. he was burning with the desire to crush the power of elizabeth and to revenge the death of mary queen of scots. already the spanish armada was hovering off the coasts of england.

sir walter raleigh tried ineffectually to obtain ships for governor white, and even succeeded in fitting out two which were later seized and impressed into service. every bark and pinnace was needed to keep philip and the inquisition out of england. no one had time to remember the colonists shut away in virginia, for all were watching sir francis drake and sir walter raleigh scuttle the spanish galleons.

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about a month after governor white sailed away a wasting sickness broke out among the colonists in virginia. the fields lay untilled and the corn and vegetables withered up under the hot breath of the sun. no drop of water fell to cool the parched earth; daily the store of food dwindled away.

gaunt starvation stalked through the island, and in his footsteps crept winginia and his catawbas.

at length eleanor dare’s husband fell ill and lay dying.

“o dear heart, my soul is filled with anguish when i think of leaving you and the child,” he moaned. “who will protect my defenceless ones? look again from the window. is there no sail in sight? nothing? and my strength is ebbing fast. put the little one beside me that i may kiss her.”

“my husband, let us put our trust in god, and help me say, ‘though he slay me, yet i will trust him.’ it will be but a little while before virginia and i will join you. there is no ending to our love. can you hear me, dear one?” then came a cry:

“o my father, the light has gone out of his eyes and his lips are dumb!”

sinking beside his body, she swooned22 away, while the wonder-filled eyes of baby virginia gazed long and gravely on the pallid face of her dead father.

regaining consciousness, eleanor feebly raised herself and tried to perform the last duties for her dead. through the long night that followed she watched by his side. lovingly and gently she talked to him of the happy past, caressed his cold face, and smoothed back the hair lying upon his brow.

“no priest is left, dear, to bless you as you go on your long journey, but you shall not lack. faithful in life, i shall be faithful in death. the pitying father will give me strength for this last duty. soon we shall be together again, even as we now are in spirit.”

on the following day the body of her husband was laid to rest and eleanor, with unearthly calm, read the burial service.

day after day passed and few were left to answer the roll call. only one hope lay between the colonists and starvation. perhaps the croatans, their faithful friends, had some corn left and would share it with them. manteo would go and ask for food.

as the sickly sun sank to rest on the fourth day after manteo’s departure, the colonists crawled to the beach and turned 23 their faces to the south to watch for his coming.

presently his canoe rounded a bend in the stream. fear gripped their hearts as they watched his bowed form. every now and then his paddle churned the water into foam, and then relapsed into idleness. as his canoe touched the beach they saw that it was empty.

stepping on the shore he paused before them. then fell an awful silence as they looked upon his face. in that face christianity and primeval passion were waging deadly warfare. the zigzag lightning shot from his eyes, and his voice was as the muttering thunder dying away in the distance. finally he spoke:

“listen, o brother of the rising sun,

to the woeful tale of manteo.

down the sparkling waters of the occam

leaped the bounding canoe;

all night the paddles made music

on this side and on that;

joy sang in the breast of the ‘real man’

as he thought of the corn for the pale face.

the smiling island of croatan

beckoned him onward and onward;

nearer and nearer came manteo

to the home of his tribe and his father.

why curled not the serpent of smoke

up from the wigwam of bark?

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why came not his brethren to greet him

as he stepped on the sandy shore?

the leaping fire of fear

burnt to ashes on his lips.

there the moccasin of winginia

had left its picture in the sand.

in the heart of the sheltered island

lay the speechless lips of his people.

no more will the shout of the croatans

rock the somber leaves of the cedars.

only manteo is left as an echo

of all their greatness and glory.”

no moan from the colonists answered the lament of manteo. they had drunk to the dregs of the cup of sorrow. eyes in which the light of hope had been frozen into stony despair gazed out upon the eastern horizon, but no sail broke the blank expanse of water.

night had put on her robe of black velvet and the stars had embroidered it in arabesques of silver, when eleanor dare laid her head on her pillow and drew virginia to her breast.

soon the hamlet was hushed in sleep; only the booming waves and the step of the starving sentinel broke the stillness. exhausted, he finally sank to the ground and sleep overpowered him.

then long shadows flitted from tree to25 tree, and on the breath of the night rose the death-cry of the catawbas. bearded men fell like corn before the sickle and the agonized cry of the women was crushed in their throats. flames from the burning cabins threw the ghastly scene into bold relief.

eleanor’s cabin was untouched as yet by the flames. in its door stood manteo, fighting for her life and that of the child, when swift as a swallow came the arrow of winginia and sucked the lifeblood from his loyal heart.

“spare the squaw and her papoose,” said winginia. “they shall be slaves in memory of the wrong done us in the past. we will take them to croatan, our conquered island. bind the squaw to the live oak yonder and place the papoose upon her lap. we will sleep until the daylight comes.”

through the rest of the night eleanor dare worked desperately, and succeeded finally in loosening the thongs enough to free one hand and slightly twist her body.

in the cold gray of the morning she took a knife from her pocket, and low down on the trunk of the oak carved the word “croatoan” in roman letters. just as26 she raised her hand to add the cross, winginia stood over her.

“hold thy hand, thou pale-face squaw! darest thou call down the anger of okee upon us?” and he sank his tomahawk into her brain.

then rose the wail of the only english being upon american soil, the cry of the little virginia. the echoes took up the sound and sent it reverberating from the flowery banks of roanoke to the ice-bound shores of nova scotia, and from the rounded tops of the appalachians to the beetling crags of the rockies.

“thou too shall follow thy kindred,” said winginia, and again the tomahawk was raised aloft.

a smile broke through the april tears upon the baby’s cheek as she held out her wasted arms to him. slowly the tomahawk sank to the ground. the angel of god stayed the hand of the destroyer. bending, he lifted the baby from the ground.

soon the scooped paddles sent the canoes swiftly down to croatan. only the waves were left to chant a requiem over the “city of the dead.”

three years had passed when governor27 white came again to roanoke to seek his daughter and her child. as the boat neared the shore he saw a column of smoke rising above the trees on the north end of the island, some distance away from the settlement of the colonists. his heart beat joyfully as he pictured the meeting with his loved ones.

quickly landing, he made for the place where he had seen the smoke, but no one was there. a few smoldering embers (left by some indians who had fled on hearing the booming of the cannon on the admiral) sputtered and fumed.

“sound a signal blast upon the trumpet,” said white to his men.

over the stillness rang out the clarion notes, but no answering shout came back.

“eleanor!” called her father in pleading accents. “el-e-a-nor!” answered the hills in melancholy reiteration.

“as we tramp down to the settlement we will sing some of the old english songs. perhaps they will reach their hearts.”

weary and footsore they continued their search, raising their voices at intervals in some sweet old english song they had sung in childhood.

at length they arrived at the “city of28 raleigh.” nature, abhorring disfigurement, had brought down sand from the mainland and covered the charred remains of the colonists, and had painted the ground in great purple violets and crimson poppies, whose roots sucked sustenance from the noble and brave ones sleeping below.

hunting for some clew, the despairing father came upon the name which his daughter had carved upon the oak. standing in the violets above her, he deciphered the word “croatoan” low down upon its trunk.

“god be praised, they are alive!” he said joyfully. “doubtless they have gone with manteo to his home in croatan. on the morrow we will seek them there. my heart gives thanks, for no cross is carved above the name. now we must hasten to embark, for the clouds are banking up and foul weather will soon be upon us.”

all night the storm raged, tearing the anchors from their hold and beating the ships out to sea. having been unable to bring casks of fresh water aboard on account of the gale, and food supplies running low, the voyagers determined to make for the island of st. john, and when properly provisioned, come again to croatan.

after a perilous voyage they arrived at29 the island of st. george, where the disheartened sailors, wearied out by the loss of some of their men, and lacking food, refused to brave the perilous reefs around croatan again, and insisted on sailing for england. white’s pleadings were stubbornly resisted. he was forced to give in and they sailed for england.

meanwhile, what had become of little virginia whom winginia had taken captive?

carried to conquered croatan, she was placed in the keeping of the women. what a strange little one had been brought to them to mother! baby ringlets of sunny brown, skin like the petals of a lily formed a frame out of which looked eyes like pools of water on a cloudy day when the shadows drift over them. her appealing eyes and tender baby ways wound themselves around the heartstrings of the squaws, and they vied with each other in making dainty moccasins for her little pink feet. daily she was bathed in the cold waters of the sound and her body smeared in paints and ointment. outwardly she became an indian girl, the water lily of the catawbas.

every year, as winter came on, the30 catawbas journeyed back to dismonguepeuc, their home on the mainland west of the island of roanoke.

here and there flitted the virginia water lily, now watching the men burn out the poplar logs for canoes and bend the witch hazel branches into bows, now searching for flint stones to be sharpened into arrow heads. she talks with the birds of the forests and with the cranes by the water side. she knew the secret of the plants with healing in their leaves.

day by day her influence over the tribe grew stronger. did she possess some invisible power? her voice alone could soothe the savage outbursts of winginia’s wrath and cause him to spare the culprit.

it was written in the book of destiny that she should repay the debt of life she owed winginia.

he had fallen upon the tuscaroras, hoping to exterminate them as he had done the croatans, but this time the fortunes of war were against him. his warriors came back bringing their chief grievously wounded by a poisoned arrow. they laid him in his house of poles and bark, and the medicine men in all their hideous paint and feathers came to chant their incantations.

the tender heart of the virginia water31 lily ached to see the stoical winginia suffer. kneeling by his side, she bared the wound, and placing her soft lips upon it, sucked the poison out. soon health and strength returned to him.

day by day she roved the forest; but she loved best the springtime when the catawbas went to croatan for the herring fishing. her nimble fingers sharpened the poles that were to spear the gleaming herring, or fashioned the weirs of rushes to catch the fish.

for hours she would sit on the beach and gaze across the vast waste of waters. then a longing for something she could not understand caused her breast to heave and sink, but no distinct recollection of mother or father remained to her. sometimes a voice crooning a few notes of melody would float across her memory but it was gone in an instant.

twelve times she had seen the indian maidens hunt for the red ear among the corn. a blush mantled her cheek when she thought that at the next harvest she too would join in the search.

already the eyes of the bravest youth among the warriors had marked her for his own. many a time he had given her the seat next the fire when the icicles rattled32 on the branches of the trees, and she felt that she would gladly go to the wigwam of ensinore the swift one.

spring had come! the sap was rising in the veins of the trees and the blood of the indian answered the call. it was time to be on the warpath.

far away on the powhatan river the king of the powhatans and his warriors were stringing their bows, sharpening their arrows, and making their canoes ready for a raid upon winginia at his summer home on croatan.

“twenty warriors to each canoe,” was the command of powhatan.

at length all was ready. swiftly the canoes glided down the powhatan, out into the waters of the chesapeake, and then, skirting down the coast, fell upon the catawbas.

fiercely and long the warfare raged. finally the tribe of powhatan gained the day, and carried off the virginia water lily as a captive, over the dead body of ensinore.

many of powhatan’s warriors were worsted in their encounter with the catawbas, so they proceeded only as far as roanoke island, where they halted for rest.

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the breezes were soft from the ocean, there were many deer in the forest, and powhatan lingered there twelve months.

as he looked upon the virginia water lily she was fairer than all the maidens of his tribe and a fit mate for the grave and stately powhatan, then just in his manhood’s prime. but no entreaties or commands could win a smile from her, for the heart of the water lily lay in the grave of ensinore.

as the twelfth moon rounded out its last quarter the water lily folded up her petals and sank to sleep, leaving to powhatan a little daughter.

a grave was dug under an old and gnarled tree bearing the word “croatoan” carved upon its trunk, and virginia dare’s body rested beside the bones of her mother eleanor.

all the tenderness of powhatan’s nature had been lavished upon the unresponsive water lily, so the little daughter she had left him became dearer to him than all of his children.

“call her pocahontas,” he said. “she shall be as a bright stream between two hills. nations yet unborn and strangers to our tribe shall hail her as ‘the blessed pocahontas.’”