relentless fate came yet again and blindfolded the colonists with a veil of golden gauze.
on a frosty morning, as one of the men walked by a little stream, he saw a shining substance glistening in the sand. snatching up a handful, he ran as fast as possible to where george martin was standing.
“look, master martin; see if this be not gold?”
taking the earth into his hand, the refiner of precious metals examined the glistening mass carefully, turning it over and over in his hand.
“yes, it is gold,” said he.
“gold, gold!” yelled the man at the top of his voice.
at the magic word every man started into life, stumbling over one another in their efforts to secure spade and pickaxe and join the maddened crowd hastening to the stream. puffing and blowing like a seal, adam clotworthy waddled along, bringing up the rear, his spade dragging behind him.
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did unused muscles ache? let them. cracked and bleeding hands smarted under blisters. who cared? was not the precious metal lying in tons before their eyes?
“try and put a stop to this digging of fool’s gold,” begged captain smith of robert hunt.
“i can do nothing while this fever rages in their veins. if you look at their frenzied faces and bloodshot eyes you will see that my efforts would be useless. even newport has joined in the mad rush. his boat will soon be loaded, and after his departure we may be able to do something.”
the warm breath of spring was upon them before captain newport sailed down the stream with his valuable cargo. all of the gold diggers gathered on the beach to witness his departure. here and there the superstitious ones threw a few beads into the water for luck, as they had seen the indians do when starting on a voyage.
after the ships had drifted out of sight, captain smith began to urge the colonists to rebuild the fort and cabins.
“even if the cargo turns out to be gold, you cannot leave this country unless you receive a special passport from king james, and that no doubt will be long in coming. perhaps if you prove industrious,92 the company will in time give each of you a house, and land to till for your own gain. but until they see some fruit from you, nothing will be forthcoming for your benefit.”
this advice seemed reasonable, and as summer was now approaching and fish abounded in the stream, the colonists started to rebuild the fort and cabins.
john laydon, master carpenter and wood-carver, superintended the work, reserving for his especial care the erection of a commodious church to take the place of the old affair of rough logs and reed-thatched roof, the successor of the sail stretched between the elms.
choosing two fair and goodly cedars, he shaped them into an altar and carved upon the front a cross with a grape vine clinging to it, and the fragrant incense of the cedar swept upward with the prayers of the colonists when once a month they knelt to receive the holy communion.
the tilled fields began to show tender green shoots of corn and clinging bean against the rich dark loam. gradually order was emerging out of chaos under the energetic supervision of captain john smith, who set the example of industry by his own hard work.
