by James Horn
Most settlers found little to ease the tedium. Meals followed the same dreary routine. Meat, either salt beef or pork, was served on Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, and stockfish (dried cod or ling) with some cheese and biscuits, washed down with beer or water, on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Once a week, to break the monotony, they received some bacon and peas.
Over meals and in their quarters the settlers probably spent long hours telling stories. John White would have described his experiences in the West Indies and on Roanoke Island and may have talked about his first voyage across the Atlantic ten years earlier, when he sailed with Martin Frobisher to the frozen land of Meta Incognita. Manteo would have described his peoples and other Indians of Roanoke as well as what he knew of the peoples of the Chesapeake, their customs, and their way of life. He and White endeavored to convey what America was like, how utterly different from anything the settlers had known in England—the beauty of the rivers and forests, the staggering abundance of wildlife, and the local peoples—a land that seemed to English eyes like a vast garden, an Eden.
Yet these stories, no matter how vivid, would have alleviated only to a small degree the discomforts of the long voyage. The settlers had to cope with seasickness, which left them nauseated and debilitated. There was also the chronic worry of attack from Spanish warships or pirates and the ever-present fear of foundering in a storm or falling seriously ill from one of many potential shipboard maladies. As the journey continued, they had to put up with deteriorating sanitary conditions, sour beer and water, and rotting food. Once they reached tropical latitudes, the heat would have made their living quarters even more oppressive, which must have been particularly hard on Eleanor Dare and Margery Harvey, both seven or eight months pregnant by mid-June.19
After about three weeks, one of the boys or a vigilant lookout in the Lion’s crow’s nest spotted a smudge on the horizon that turned out to be the island of Dominica. The sailors had been aware that they were approaching land for several days; there were small, telltale signs such as pieces of debris in the waves, increasing numbers of birds that followed in their wake, and a change in the wind that brought the faint but unmistakable sweet smell of land. A hum of anticipation likely coursed through the settlers and crew, who stood on deck straining to see the island as it grew closer, an emerald rising precipitously out of a dazzling blue sea. White knew it was Dominica—he had sketched the mountainous island two years before—and must have been relieved to see it again. Sailing between Dominica and Guadeloupe as the sun dropped below the horizon, White and the settlers could take heart from having safely reached the first of their destinations in American waters.
The two ships anchored off St. Croix (Virgin Islands) on June 22, and passengers and crew went ashore to spend a couple of days recovering from the voyage. For some settlers, their first encounter with a Caribbean island was not a happy one. Eager for fresh fruit, they ate some small fruits that looked like green apples, but turned out to be poisonous and burned their mouths and tongues so badly they could not speak. Many of the settlers also became sick from drinking contaminated water from a stagnant pond near the temporary shelters they constructed soon after landing. Even washing themselves in the water caused their faces to burn and swell, so that they were unable to see for nearly a week. That night the settlers had better luck and captured five large sea turtles, which provided a feast of fresh meat, a welcome relief after weeks of salt beef, dried fish, and moldy biscuits. On the second day White divided the men who were fit into three groups to search for water and any signs of human life. One of the groups found a spring in the mountains, from which they filled bottles of water. Another spotted some Indians and their settlement a few miles away, but did not make contact.
The following day they left St. Croix and moved on to a small island off the south coast of Puerto Rico before anchoring at “Muskitoes Baye,” the Mosquetal (Guayanilla Bay), where Ralph Lane had built a fortified settlement in 1585. They remained in the area for three days, again searching for fresh water, with little success; the amount of beer they drank in the course of their search, White commented testily, exceeded the small amount of water they eventually collected.20
After leaving the island on July 1 White learned of a serious setback. Two of the men, Darby Glavin and Dennis Carroll, both Irish and possibly Catholics, had deserted. White must have had little doubt that the men would quickly find their way to local Spanish authorities and tell them about the plan to establish a colony on Chesapeake Bay. To make matters worse, Glavin had been with Lane’s original expedition and would be able to describe the precise location of the English settlement on Roanoke Island. White realized that sooner or later the Spanish would send warships to the Chesapeake to search for them. The Irishmen’s desertion had greatly increased the possibility of a Spanish attack.21
Further problems arose over the next two weeks, as the ships made their way from the West Indies to the North Carolina coast. Relations between White and Fernandes began to break down. Their bickering was a continuation of arguments and accusations that had started early in the voyage, on the other side of the Atlantic. White had blamed his master pilot for losing contact with the flyboat in the Bay of Portugal. He believed that Fernandes had intentionally abandoned Spicer, stealing away in the night in the hope that the Englishman would fail to find his way to Virginia or would be captured by Spanish frigates.
Tensions between the two men increased in the West Indies. At Rojo Bay, Puerto Rico, Fernandes promised to take in salt, as the English had done in 1585. Accordingly, White assigned fifty men to go ashore, but then Fernandes protested, claiming that if the pinnace went into the bay, she might not be able to get back out until the following day, by which time a storm might arise and the two ships separated. While they argued, White alleged in his journal, Fernandes recklessly brought the Lion into shallow waters and began to swear “and tear God in pieces,” crying out that the pinnace was in great danger and they should bear up the helm hard. The mariners followed Fernandes’s orders, and the pinnace bore away from the bay. White commented ruefully, “we were disappointed of our salt.” Similarly, off both Puerto Rico and Hispaniola a few days later, when White looked for a place to land to purchase cattle and provisions and collect orange plants, pineapples, and plantains for cultivation in Virginia, Fernandes refused to cooperate, and the two ships sailed on.
Setting aside a deliberate attempt to sabotage the expedition for unknown reasons, there is only one explanation for Fernandes’s behavior: He was reluctant to waste time on the islands gathering plants or salt when he could be patrolling offshore waters in search of booty. The Lion was well armed, carrying between a dozen and two dozen cannon, ranging from demiculverins and sakers (ship-smashing guns that could throw shot weighing five to ten pounds across a couple of thousand yards), to an array of smaller weapons such as fowlers and robinets. It is likely that Ralegh had planned a privateering expedition to take place after White’s colonists were deposited safely in the Chesapeake Bay, which would cover the costs of the venture (approximately £6,000) and perhaps make a profit. But Fernandes and his men were eager to seize every opportunity for plundering Spanish shipping in the West Indies. Even a couple of modest prizes would be sufficient to give the pilot and mariners handsome dividends beyond their contract wages. From this standpoint, it is not surprising that Fernandes was much more interested in looting other ships than in transporting passengers and carrying cargo.22
White was enraged by Fernandes’s behavior, but there was little he could do about it. He did not have authority over the mariners and was dependent on his pilot to guide the settlers to their destination. As relations between settlers and mariners deteriorated, mishaps continued. On reaching the American mainland, Fernandes mistook the latitude, and finding himself too far south, proceeded north along the coast, where in mid-July he almost wrecked the two ships on reefs near Cape Fear (Cape Lookout). Only Captain Stafford’s vigilance in the pinnace saved them from
calamity, “such was the carelessness, and ignorance of our Master,” White complained.
Far worse was to follow. Off the Outer Banks in the third week of July, White’s plans were thrown into complete disarray. According to the account that White later presented to Ralegh, Fernandes betrayed him and the settlers. Anchored off Hatarask, White had decided to make contact with the garrison left by Grenville on Roanoke Island as soon as possible. He set off for the island in the pinnace, accompanied by forty of his best men. As the pinnace pulled away, someone on the Lion called to the sailors, telling them not to bring any of the planters back, but to leave them there. Only White and two or three others were to be returned. The man who called to them, whom White mysteriously described as a gentleman who was to go back to England with Fernandes, explained that the mariners of the pinnace and the Lion had been persuaded by Fernandes to leave the settlers on Roanoke Island because “the Summer was far spent.” In other words, the pilot and his men had decided not to take White and the settlers to the Chesapeake Bay.
Why would Fernandes and the sailors seemingly turn against White and the settlers when they were so close to their destination? There could be no doubt what Ralegh expected of the expedition’s leaders on reaching Roanoke Island. Following his master’s instructions, White was to learn about the state of affairs in the area from the men in the garrison and return to the ships. Fernandes would then pilot the fleet to the Chesapeake Bay, where the settlers would plant their “seate and forte.”
The refusal of Fernandes and his men to take the settlers any farther was nothing less than an act of mutiny. Fernandes and the unnamed gentleman were flouting not only White’s authority but also Ralegh’s. And yet, surprisingly, White apparently did little to challenge them. Informed by sailors of the decision to leave the settlers on the island, he merely remarked (describing his own response in the third person), that “it booted [suited] not the Governor to contend with them, but [he] passed to Roanoke, and . . . went aland.”
In White’s telling, the incident makes little sense. If Fernandes and his men had decided to mutiny, it seems unlikely that they would have chosen to take White back with them to England, where he would surely have testified about their gross insubordination. It also seems unlikely that White would have accepted the dramatic change of plan without putting up an argument.23
But Fernandes may not actually have betrayed White. Perhaps the two men were in agreement about the change of plan. (In this scenario, White’s later account to Ralegh was simply a means of placing blame for the failures of the voyage on Fernandes.) The phrase, “the Summer was far spent,” used by the gentleman on the Lion, can be interpreted in two ways. Fernandes and his men had had no luck capturing prizes on the outward voyage, but if they helped the settlers establish themselves on Roanoke Island, spent a few weeks provisioning their ship, and put to sea by mid-August, they might yet have an opportunity to plunder a straggler from the New Spain or Panama treasure fleets. Taking the settlers to the Chesapeake, on the other hand, would diminish their hopes of plunder. Fernandes had probably never sailed as far as the bay and might have been concerned that if the weather turned against him he would be delayed too long to allow him to reach the Azores in time to capture a prize.
Because a fort and houses already existed on Roanoke Island, Fernandes may have reasoned, why not make use of them for the time being before moving on to the Chesapeake at some later date, when White and the settlers were ready? He could leave the pinnace—which was ideal for sailing the sounds, inshore waters, and along major rivers—so that the settlers could transport themselves, their provisions, and equipment after the Lion departed.
White may have been thinking along similar lines. After ten weeks on board ship, the prospect of setting up temporary quarters on Roanoke Island, having fresh food and water, and exploring the country was probably appealing to settlers weary of the sea. And it is possible that White had already made up his mind to wait at Roanoke (another rendezvous point for the fleet) for Captain Edward Spicer and the rest of the settlers to arrive in the flyboat. Back on the Isle of Wight in May, White may have agreed with Carey that his privateers should call in at Roanoke Island to relieve Grenville’s men before sailing on to the Chesapeake. If so, he might have calculated Carey’s ships would reach the island within the next month and be able help with the transportation of the settlers to the bay. White had not given up the plan to plant a colony to the north, but had merely decided to delay implementing it.24
That same evening, July 22, at sunset, White and his men landed on Roanoke Island at the place (possibly near Shallowbag Bay) where the small garrison of fifteen men had been left a year earlier by Grenville. There was no one there, only the bleached bones of one of the men, who White supposed had been killed by the Indians “long before.” The following day he and some of the settlers marched to the north end of the island to Lane’s fort. There they found the earthwork and palisade thrown down but the houses within and around still standing, uninhabited and “overgrown with Melons [gourds, squash] of many sorts, and Deer within them, feeding.” This was good news—at least the houses would provide some shelter for the colonists—but there was still no sign of Grenville’s men, and White concluded there was now probably little chance of finding any of them on the island. To discover what had happened they would have to wait until they visited Manteo’s people on Croatoan.
Over the next few days the settlers and crew began unloading their gear and supplies from the ships—the pinnace sailing to and fro between the Lion and the island. They began repairing the houses left by Lane and prepared the ground for “newe Cottages,” small single-unit dwellings, for the families. For John White, the sound of hammering and sawing, and the busy activity around the site, may have brought back fond memories of when Lane’s fort was first built, a time when the potential of the region had only been glimpsed. Two years later, he (like Ralegh) was convinced of the untapped riches that Virginia offered and was now determined to succeed in establishing a permanent colony for the glory of God, his queen, and his master.
White’s determination was reinforced when he received the best news in more than two months: on July 25 the flyboat arrived off Hatarask with the settlers safe and sound “to the great joye, and comfort of the whole company.” Remarkably, of the 118 settlers who had left Plymouth, only two were lost: Glavin and Carroll, who had deserted in Puerto Rico.
By the end of July all the settlers were healthy and making good progress establishing their temporary quarters. To be sure, the settlement was not where it was meant to be. But White was confident they would be able to make their way to the Chesapeake Bay soon, perhaps later in the summer with the assistance of Carey’s ships, should they call in at Hatarask. Even wintering on Roanoke Island would not be a major setback if they could find sufficient provisions to see them through to early spring. With Spicer’s arrival, little short of a miracle considering he had never before sailed to Virginia, the settlers had survived the hazards of an Atlantic voyage and were together at last—poised to make the final leg of the journey to the Chesapeake Bay to found the City of Ralegh.25
5
THE BROKEN PROMISE
My lost delights, now clean from sight of land,
Have left me all alone in unknown ways,
My mind to woe, my life in fortune’s hand;
Of all which past, the sorrow only stays.
—SIR WALTER RALEGH
THREE DAYS AFTER the flyboat arrived, George Howe stripped off his clothes by a small creek a couple of miles from the fort. He intended to catch some crabs, and taking a forked stick he gingerly waded into the water. The peace and quiet of the hot summer’s day was a welcome respite from the noisy clatter at the settlement, where the colonists were rebuilding the houses and sorting out their gear. As he paused in his search for crabs and looked around at the beautiful countryside, he may have understood why John White had become captivated by Virginia. What a contrast the virgin expanse of land and wa
ter of Roanoke Island, populated only by wild creatures, offered to the stench and dirt of London’s crowded streets, Howe’s last memory of England.
Hidden in tall reeds nearby, a handful of Secotan warriors watched. They had learned of the settlers’ return a few days before and had crossed over the sound from their town on the mainland to find out what the newcomers were doing. Coming upon the unarmed man in the creek, they decided the opportunity to avenge the killing of their people by the English the previous year was too good to miss. After making sure the man was alone, they struck.
Sixteen arrows riddled Howe’s body, and he fell screaming into the water. In an instant the warriors were upon him, beating his head to a pulp with their war clubs, quickly silencing his cries. Then they were gone, heading back to the mainland, leaving the scene as undisturbed as they had found it save only for the bloody corpse floating gently in the water and a cloud of flies buzzing greedily around.1
News of Howe’s killing was probably brought back to the settlement the same day by a search party sent to look for him. His death would have come as a profound shock to White and the colonists. They had endured a long voyage and the perils of the Atlantic together, and yet within a few days of arriving on Roanoke Island Howe had been brutally murdered by unknown Indians, apparently without provocation or cause. As the horror sank in, the settlers’ view of the island must have shifted dramatically. No longer a place of innocent beauty, it had suddenly taken on an altogether different character, in which appalling violence lay hidden in the forest or by the water’s edge. They could no longer assume they were safe outside the confines of the settlement and might not even be secure within if the Indians mounted an attack in force.