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

by Paul Clayton

  Lionel quickly forgot his weariness when he saw Humphrey. The boy stood and Lionel poured water over his head and then more into his mouth. Lionel smiled at Maggie as he and Humphrey sat down beside her and her friend, Elizabeth. Lionel took out his white clay pipe. As he packed it full of tobacco with his thumb, he said to the two women, “Two Irish lads in the other group ran away.”

  “God a mercy!” said Maggie. “Was Thomas one of them?”

  “I know not,” said Lionel.

  Paulina came over and knelt before Lionel expectantly. “Did you find any food?”

  At the mention of food, Lionel’s hunger returned. “No, nothing,” he said. He looked at the gentle blue of the sea, the white sand. It was the Garden of Eden, except that there was no food for them to eat.

  Paulina looked worriedly out to sea. “My boy be gettin’ too thin. Methinks… Her voice drifted off.

  Lionel thought that perhaps he should try and cheer them. “We heard the report of a musket. Perhaps one of the other groups has had some luck and caught game.”

  “Perhaps they have shot a savage,” said Maggie. She looked darkly at the jungle behind them.

  “More likely they shot one of the runaways,” said Lionel. He thought that if they had shot the knave, Thomas, they’d all be better off for it. The boy had a black heart.

  Paulina turned to Lionel, a hungry look in her eyes. “What about all the fruits? She pointed toward the jungle. “They say the trees are full of little green apples. We could eat our fill of them.”

  “I already asked the Sergeant about them,” said Lionel. “He said they are not apples and that we must wait until the Governor returns and identifies them.”

  “Why must we wait?” said Paulina plaintively.

  “Because we must,” said Lionel. What a base-born girl, he thought. She would be a challenge for her new master.

  Lionel lay back on the sand. “Governor White has spent much time in these parts,” he said. “He has much knowledge of New World fruits. Those back there could be poisonous.”

  Elizabeth laughed loudly. “More likely he does not want people wandering off into the jungle and into the arms of cannibals.”

  Lionel saw Maggie and the others looking back at the dark of the jungle. They appeared frightened. “Nay,” he said. “The island is uninhabited.”

  “Nay, sir,” said Elizabeth, “there be cannibals. Why else do yeh think Raleigh’s pet savages refused to leave the ship? They know there be cannibals here. They can sense ‘em.”

  “Come now, Elizabeth,” chided Lionel. “They have been civilized. They simply wish to remain on the ship.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “They know, sir. They know. The more methinks of it, I should have stayed aboard ship too.”

  “Aye,” said Lionel, sitting up, “you should have. Then I could have gotten a little sleep.”

  The rest of the common folk laughed and Elizabeth cackled along with them.

  “Here comes the other party,” said Paulina.

  Maggie recognized Thomas among those marching up the beach. She was surprised at the disappointment she felt. She had believed at some deep place within her that he had been killed.

  “I hope they have killed a stag,” said Paulina. “We can roast it tonight, right here on the beach.”

  “They have no stag,” said Lionel. “There will be no meat tonight.”

  “Meat would go good with some of them sea biscuits,” said Elizabeth, not hearing him, “add a little flavor, it would.”

  When the men drew closer Maggie and the others saw they were indeed, empty-handed. The men came over and sat in the sand tiredly. Thomas ignored Lionel, sitting down on the other side of Maggie. He leaned close to her. “Have you eaten?”

  She shook her head.

  “No one has eaten,” said Lionel.

  Thomas ignored him as he nodded toward the jungle behind them. “Has anybody eaten any of those fruits back there?”

  “Nay,” said Maggie. “We must wait for Governor White to return and identify them.”

  “Yeh have become quite taken with our Governor now, haven’t yeh, Maggie?” said Thomas.

  Maggie said nothing and Lionel scoffed as Thomas headed for the tree line.

  Paulina brought her sleeping boy over and handed him to Maggie. “Keep an eye on him for me, Maggie. I’m going with him.”

  Maggie looked at the dark green mass of jungle and thought of the stories she had heard. “Paulina, ‘tis not safe.”

  Paulina had already started toward the jungle. Elizabeth and several other women and men got to their feet and followed.

  “Knotty-pated fools,” said Lionel.

  “They cannot help themselves,” said Maggie, watching them walk towards the jungle. “Their hunger has clouded their reason.”

  The giant sergeant named Goliath approached. “Hold,” he commanded. They ignored him, continuing toward the jungle. “The Captain will hear of this!” he shouted after them.

  Maggie, Lionel, and Humphrey remained sitting in the sand. Ol’ Jack, Paulina’s boy, and a woman with a newborn babe slept nearby.

  Maggie grabbed a handful of warm sand and let it run from her fingers. She looked back at the jungle. Its thickness had swallowed the others up completely and their disappearance made her uncomfortable. She felt the need to take her mind off the others and she turned to Lionel. “I have been thinking of our escape in London and our journey across the Devon countryside. We would probably be rotting in prison now if not for you. We owe you much.”

  Lionel shrugged.

  “How did you ever become engaged in the trade?” Maggie asked.

  Lionel shrugged again. “I wanted to eat. ‘Twas either that or starve in the streets.”

  “But you are not the meaner sort. You have a gentleman’s bearing. I’ve worked in gentlemen’s houses and I know.”

  “I was once a player in the theater,” Lionel said.

  “Which one?” said Maggie.

  “The Black Bull.”

  “I’ve heard of it,” enthused Maggie. “Thomas and I talked of going there one day, before all that other business happened.”

  Lionel looked at Maggie. “Aye. We have all had various business happen to us, haven’t we?”

  “Aye,” said Maggie sadly. She picked up another handful of sand and let it pass through her fingers. “Why did you leave the acting world?”

  “I fell in love with the wrong lady, it turned out.”

  Maggie looked back at the jungle. There was still no sight nor sound of the others. “How could any lady you loved be wrong?”

  “She belonged to another, a merchant.” Lionel scowled. “He was away most of the time. But when he was around he treated her most grievously.”

  “So your love was unrequited?”

  “No. It was a true love, and fruitful. But her husband knew that the thing growing in her belly was not his, and he beat her.” Lionel grimaced at the memory.

  “You must have suffered greatly,” Maggie said.

  Lionel shook his head. “Nay, it is Humphrey who has suffered the most. And that Jackanapes husband when I finally caught him alone.”

  Maggie heard a shout. “What was that?”

  She and Lionel looked back toward the jungle. A woman was staggering toward them, clutching her throat.

  “‘Tis Elizabeth!” cried Maggie. She and Lionel got to their feet and ran to her. Elizabeth collapsed on the sand, spitting and coughing. She was unable to speak.

  “Get Goliath,” said Lionel. “I’ll go see about the others.” Lionel ran toward the jungle.

  Maggie called the giant sergeant, waving at him excitedly. As the big man lumbered up, Maggie knelt at Elizabeth’s side. Unable to speak, Elizabeth pointed to the hogshead of water. Maggie dipped the water out and Elizabeth managed to get some down before lapsing back into a fit of coughing.

  Goliath leaned down to them. “What has happened?”

  “I know not,” said Maggie, “she cannot speak.”
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  Goliath frowned as he looked at the dark jungle. “Here come more.”

  Thomas and another man staggered out of the trees. Thomas collapsed next to Maggie, wrenching the ladle out of her hand. He poured water in his open mouth, most of it running down his small chin and onto his shirtfront.

  Lionel hurried back to them.

  “What happened?” asked Goliath.

  Lionel shook his head. “Whatever they ate has poisoned them. Their tongues have swollen and they cannot swallow.”

  Others came out of the jungle, coughing and choking. Lionel pointed at the sea. A longboat neared the surf. It caught a wave and glided up onto the sand, sailors and soldiers jumping out.

  Elizabeth moaned, grabbing her stomach. Thomas suddenly grabbed his gut, a look of alarm on his face. He got to his feet and rushed back toward the trees. Several more men and women came out of the jungle, lying down in the sand to retch. A Lieutenant and several sailors came up. The Lieutenant looked around and addressed Goliath. “What happened?”

  Goliath glared angrily at the sick people. “They ate fruits from the trees up yonder. I told them to leave them alone, that there was food coming, but they would not wait.”

  The Lieutenant looked around at the coughing people.

  “There be more in the bushes with the flux,” said the Sergeant.

  The Lieutenant frowned. “Well, see to them.”

  Goliath turned to Elizabeth and the others. “Knavish riffraff! Ye got what ye deserve, if ye ask me.”

  The Lieutenant turned to his men. “Bring up hardtack and water for them. That will calm their bellies.”

  Maggie looked back at the dirty green of the jungle as the others coughed and groaned. Her heart went out to the poor people suffering around her. A breeze came off the sea, chilling her. The island was strange, a beautiful Eden, yet it held much danger and pain. Maggie wet her skirt with water from the hogshead and wiped her friend Elizabeth’s brow. She wondered what it would be like further north in Chesapeake. ‘Twas said to be a bit cooler and more like England. She hoped that for all their sakes they’d soon get there.

  Chapter 8

  After sketching for the better part of two hours, John White wiped his charcoal-blackened fingers on the grass and reached for his pipe. Sir George Howe sat beside him and Sir Robert Harvey slept on the grass in a nearby patch of shade. White heard coarse laughter. Fernandes was pulling a savage girl, one of the bunch they’d come across earlier, toward the bushes. The girl’s breasts were small and bud-like. White thought she could not have been more than twelve years of age. Captain Stafford and two of his soldiers looked on, smiling. Stafford held Fernandes’ leather bota of wine in his hand and he and his soldiers were red-faced from drinking.

  The girl jerked her hand away and turned, walking back the way they had come. “Ho ho!” called Stafford jovially. “She’ll have none of yeh, Senor. It’s that enormous codpiece that has frightened her off.”

  Fernandes ran round and blocked the girl’s path. He grabbed her hand again. “Come, little one,” he said.

  Realizing the man would not release her, the girl cursed him a torrent in her language. Stafford and the soldiers laughed heartily. She then looked over plaintively at White and the others.

  “Why do you not find one more willing,” said Sir George, “an older one.”

  “Her reluctance is a spice which will make this a most memorable repast,” said the wiry Portuguese. “Soon she will sing another tune. You will be able to hear it all the way out here. I promise.” Fernandes turned away and continued pulling the girl toward the bushes. The girl dug in her heels to no avail. She began crying.

  “I think you should take Sir George’s advice,” said White, “and find another.”

  Fernandes continued to pull the girl, ignoring her cries.

  White grew angry at the man’s impertinence and got to his feet. He grabbed Fernandes’ shoulder. “Release her!”

  Fernandes released the girl and she fell onto her buttocks. He turned to White, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Senor?”

  White’s pulse quickened. Grabbing the man had been a mistake, he realized. Fernandes was small, but he was an expert with his blade and everyone knew it. White, on the other hand, was a painter of birds, maps and miniatures, a member of the Painters and Stainers Guild of London, not a swordsman. And although he wore a fancy Spanish sword given him by Raleigh, it was more an indicator of his new rank, like an item of clothing, and he had had no gentlemanly training in swordsmanship to go along with it. Fernandes’ wolfish smile told White that he knew all of this and intended to take full advantage of it.

  White realized sadly that if Fernandes ran him through he would forever after swagger about and pose the hero. But he couldn’t back down now from the strutting peacock. He would have to play out his hand, come what may.

  “I said get back to your work,” said White.

  Fernandes’ eyes bore into White’s. White noticed something moving behind him. Sirs Robert Harvey and George Howe came into view. Sir George had his hand on the hilt of his sword. An ex-soldier, everyone knew his blade to be more than a fixture.

  Fernandes said nothing as he continued to stare at White and ponder his next move. Suddenly Captain Stafford interposed his muscled bulk between the two men. He winked at White and extended the bota of wine to Fernandes. “Senor Fernandes, methinks yeh need more wine.”

  Fernandes allowed himself a smile and took the leather bota from the captain. He took a long drink. Stafford smiled drunkenly at White. “He means yeh no harm, Governor. He just wants the company of a young wench after being cooped up on the ship for so long. Yeh know how that be, eh?”

  Stafford winked lecherously and White’s face reddened as he realized the captain was hinting that there was some equivalency between Fernandes’ behavior with the girl and his dealings with the maid, Maggie. “Nay,” said White, “I know not how that is.”

  “As yeh say, Governor.” Captain Stafford continued to smile, but his eyes grew hard. He turned back to Fernandes. “Senor, the Governor says that that little fish be too young. Ye’ll have to throw her back.”

  Fernandes bowed theatrically. “Of course. Whatever the Governor says.”

  The girl ran back with the other Indians and White walked back to his things with Sir Robert and Sir George.

  ***

  A week after the colonists landed on the island of Santa Cruz, the other two ships of the three-ship fleet appeared. After the newcomers had rested ashore for two days, Governor White and the Assistant Governors ordered all to board the ships and the fleet again began sailing north.

  Sir Robert Harvey’s thoughts were troubled as he made his way along the waist to Governor White’s cabin. The receding sight of the beautiful green of Santa Cruz Island could not lighten his mood for he could sense something brewing among the board of Assistants. After the awful treatment of his father, a loyal Englishman, he had a nose for such things. A difficult new venture such as this required a firm hand to set the course, but Governor White was off to a poor start. He had not attended the meeting they had had earlier in the week.

  Sir Robert went down the stairs and knocked at White’s door. He waited quietly, but heard nothing. He knocked again.

  White’s voice penetrated the door faintly. “Who is there?”

  “Robert Harvey.”

  “What is it?”

  “I am going to the Assistants’ meeting now. I thought I would stop off for you.”

  There was a pause and White said, “I’ll not be going today. Tell them that I am not well.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Sir Robert frowned deeply as he made his way to the great deck where he and the others were to meet. A division among the Assistants was becoming more distinct every day. Most of them, headed by Sir Abraham Bane, were Devon gentlemen, Devonians, and chosen by Sir Walter Raleigh himself. These had tightly aligned themselves with Captain Stafford and they voted in a block. The others, like h
imself, were from scattered towns and shires, and had only recently been recruited by Governor White. And now Sir Abraham and Captain Stafford used every occasion of White’s absence to try and expand their influence.

  Sir Robert entered the cabin. The Assistants smoked and talked amongst themselves around the long table. The bearish-looking Sir Abraham looked up expectantly.

  “Well,” he growled, “where is the Governor?”

  Sir Robert frowned. “He is not well, I’m afraid.”

  Sir Phillip Mattingly, the short, rotund, unmarried gentleman merchant from Bristol could not conceal his smile. “Well, he has that pretty young cook-maid to minister to him. Let us hope she will help him rise from his sick bed.”

  The others looked at their hands in embarrassed silence.

  “Enough,” barked Captain Stafford with irritation, “we should begin.”

  “Aye,” said Sir Abraham. “Senor Fernandes has a report to make.

  “Senor Fernandes, you may begin.”

  White stood at the easel in his cabin. The poor light was supplemented by two candelabra of five candles each. A few days earlier Martin Smythe, one of the gentlemen planters he himself had recruited, had died after a long struggle with fever. White had commandeered the gentleman’s cabin for his own use, thus giving Ananias and Eleanor more comfort and privacy.

  Now Maggie sat across the small cabin, wearing a dress borrowed for her from Eleanor. Maggie’s beautiful red hair spilled over the front of the gown, highlighting her light skin and freckles. She posed, reading a book on her lap. From outside came the occasional sound of men walking by. Shouts and noises from above filtered dully through the timbers of the ship. White daubed his brush in water as he looked at her.

  Maggie looked up from the book and smiled. “Are you through now, m’Lord?”

  White shook his head. “That depends on you,” he said. Maggie seemed to have grown even more beautiful than when she’d sat down this morning.

  Maggie’s smile disappeared as a blush suffused her face. “M’Lord?”