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

by Paul Clayton

  The girl appeared frightened and shook her head. Maggie heard a footfall and stood. The two women who had been watching and discussing her with such relish earlier, came around a hut and approached her. The girl snatched her hand out of Maggie’s and ran away. Maggie’s heart pounded. “What do you want?” she demanded. The women squawked loudly and incomprehensibly, pushing Maggie into the hut.

  The hut was full of baskets and bundles of strange-looking roots and grasses hanging about. A thin tendril of smoke rose from a heap of gray ashes in the middle of the dirt floor. Maggie turned to leave and the women seized her by the arms. She struggled, tears forming in her eyes, when another woman came out of the shadows. Taller than the others, she was serene, almost regal. She came closer. Staring at Maggie, she spoke softly to the others without taking her eyes off Maggie.

  “Let me go,” cried Maggie. She looked around. No sounds of the English people reached her ears.

  The tall woman stepped before her. Maggie struggled to break free but the others held her too tightly. The woman ran her hand along Maggie’s hair. She touched her face, rubbing her skin gently, as if testing it. Maggie’s heart was pounding as the horrid stories she had heard of cannibalism among the Indians came back to her. “Let me go!” she demanded, but the women paid her no heed.

  Someone entered the hut. Manteo stared at her, his face a blank.

  “Help,” cried Maggie, “they won’t release me.”

  Manteo spoke sharply to the women and they released Maggie’s arms. “Be no afraid,” he said, “they no hurt you.”

  The tall woman stepped back from Maggie to stand with the others. All of them continued to stare at her intently.

  “What do they want?” said Maggie.

  Manteo laughed brusquely. “They only show you to their Weronsqua, their leader. Your hair, it amuses them, your… ” Manteo pointed to his own face. “Your spots… my mother, she say your face trying to turn brown, like ours.”

  Maggie heard voices outside. Governor White, Master Dare, Elizabeth, Lionel and two soldiers came in and her fear left her.

  “Oh, here you are,” said Governor White, “visiting with the women.”

  Maggie felt a glow of relief at the sight of Governor White and the others. She went over to stand with them. “They are very much interested in my freckles,” she said.

  John White smiled. “As well they should be. They are a marvel. Did they frighten you?”

  “No,” Maggie lied.

  “I see you met Manteo’s mother.”

  Maggie nodded.

  Manteo and his mother talked animatedly, their voices rising in volume.

  “Manteo,” John White called out, “do not upset your mother. We need her help in dealing with the other tribes.”

  Manteo nodded, but continued arguing with his mother.

  Maggie turned to Ananias. “Why did they return all their things?”

  Dare’s brow furrowed. “Because their old men told them to.”

  “But why?” said Maggie.

  Lionel’s eyes found Maggie’s and he shook his head. “We learned what happened to the soldiers that were left here by Governor Lane.”

  “Aye?”

  Governor White frowned. “The Roanokes ran them off. Those they didn’t kill.”

  “But what has that to do with the Croatoan people?” said Maggie. “I thought they were friendly toward English people.”

  “Do they need a reason?” said Elizabeth, looking suspiciously at Manteo’s mother and her attendants.”

  “These people have always been friendly,” said Governor White calmly, “and they are not under Powhatan’s sway. But Lane’s soldiers treated them badly on several occasions, taking their food and abusing them when they resisted. It will take some time to win them over again.”

  Manteo’s mother’s voice rang out in anger and she quickly walked out of the hut, followed by her women attendants.

  “Manteo,” said John White, “go after her and see if she will allow us to sit in council with her and her advisors.”

  Manteo’s face was angry but he nodded obediently. He looked briefly at the others, then walked out. Governor White turned to Dare, Lionel and the soldiers. “Let us go.”

  As they walked back to the village common, Elizabeth came up to Maggie, taking her arm. “What happened in there?”

  Maggie looked back at the hut. “Well, we had a long, long talk. But I understood not one word of it.

  Elizabeth laughed. “I should think not.”

  Manteo hurried along to catch up with his mother. “Wait,” he called to her but she would not stop. He ran until he was alongside of her. She stopped. “Leave us,” she said to her attendants. The women went away and Manteo faced his mother. The sun had already set over the trees and the air was beginning to cool. He saw age in her face for the first time. Many fine lines etched her skin, but her smoke-gray eyes were still strong and confident. He had come all the way from England and she was as close to him as the hands at the ends of his own arms, yet she still seemed an ocean away.

  “John White wants to sit before the Council.”

  “He can sit with us,” said Tookemay.

  “We need you to speak for us,” said Manteo

  “I will do what I can.”

  Tookemay said nothing further and Manteo felt as if a veil had been draped between them. He could not bridge the gulf between them. In frustration, he hefted the musket up to show her.

  Tookemay looked at it, the hint of a smile on her lips, but she would not touch it.

  “The great man himself, Raleigh, gave it to me. It is the best. German!”

  Sadness came into his mother’s eyes. “You were too young, Manteo,” she said. “I know that now.”

  “What, mother?”

  “I should never have listened to the Council when they chose you to be sent away with the English.”

  “But you did listen, Mother. And you chose well.”

  She shook her head. “No. You had not yet formed. You were not yet of the people.”

  Manteo struggled for something to say, but it was as if a demon gripped his throat. He could find no words. As Tookemay looked at his clothes, he tried to read what was in her eyes.

  “You were too young,” she said, “and now it is too late. The damage has been done.” She turned and walked toward the Council House.

  Manteo struggled for his voice as she walked away from him, but it would not come. She was gone. He stood still, looking at the earth at his feet. “Mother,” he finally said, “I …” He turned and walked away.

  Maggie and Elizabeth walked through the village. A mob of children of both sexes trailed them, hanging back a safe distance. In one of the longhouses that Maggie and Elizabeth passed, Parson Lambert was baptizing a Croatoan. Others sat and watched with interest. Maggie and Elizabeth stopped and the parson nodded silently to them. Maggie noticed an older woman rubbing a bible back and forth over her knee as she sat. She pointed her out to Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth frowned. “What in heaven is she doing?” she said aloud. Several of the Croatoans looked over. The woman stopped her rubbing, looking at them in confusion. Parson Lambert frowned disapprovingly. “Manteo has told them that with the bible they can cure their ills. I’m afraid they have taken his words literally.”

  Maggie and Elizabeth continued to watch. After a few moments the woman again began rubbing her knee with the black volume and Elizabeth burst into laughter.

  “Enough, enough,” said Parson Lambert sternly. “Aye, they are childlike in their ignorance. But their faith is also childlike and heartfelt, unlike some others’. Now leave us.”

  Maggie’s face reddened as they walked off. They came to the village common. The Croatoans had started a bonfire in the center and spread woven mats of reeds around it. About a dozen women busied themselves cooking at large, bubbling pots and several dozen more sat near the fire, singing songs and shaking gourds, making a rhythmic, rattling music. Lionel, Ol’ Jack, Slade the car
penter, and other common men and soldiers sat together. Maggie and Elizabeth sat down beside them and watched the Croatoans with interest.

  Before too long, Governor White, Ananias Dare, Parson Lambert, Manteo, and the soldiers arrived and joined them. Maggie turned to Governor White. “M’Lord,” she said, “will Tookemay be joining us?”

  Governor White shook his head. “I know not. She is still arguing our case before their council.”

  Maggie said nothing, looking around at the growing dark.

  “They want some kind of identifying badge,” White went on.

  “Why?” said Maggie.

  “They have been so poorly treated that they want to make sure they are not mistaken for other, unfriendly tribes.”

  “‘Tis not an unreasonable request, methinks,” said Ananias.

  White nodded.

  “Where will we stay tonight?” said Maggie.

  Governor White laughed. “Manteo will show us where we will sleep. In one of the communal houses, no doubt. Worry not, girl. These people will not harm us.”

  “As you say, m’Lord,” said Maggie. She looked at the violet sky as the singing grew in intensity. It sounded to her ears not unlike the mournful wail of a stiff wind moaning down a chimney. It gave her a chill and she unconsciously moved closer to Governor White and the others.

  Chapter 12

  The day before, Towaye had watched from the gate as Manteo and the others left for Croatoan. Sad and angry that he had not been allowed to go, he had remained at the gate for most of the day, awaiting their return. Then the soldiers had locked him up in here. They had laughed, saying that they were afraid he would run away. Now Towaye felt as if the little hut he was locked in had grown smaller. The air was hot and he could not get enough of it. Through the small opening in the hut, he watched the English building the bigger, box-like gaol where they could keep up to ten or so of those who incurred their wrath. It would be very bad to end up inside that thing, Towaye thought. It had a timber floor through which he could never dig as he had done here for the past night. He frowned darkly. It was better to be knocked on the head and killed quickly than to be kept penned up like a dog to be fattened.

  As he watched the Englishmen lower a long log into place, he knew that he would find himself locked in there one day, for he could never accept the English as Manteo did. English people remained a mystery to him. With the exception of a few soldiers, they had never beaten or insulted him. Most of them treated him kindly. He thought of Parson Lambert and his stories of their god. But English ways were strange, their language perverse, their food foul-tasting and poorly cooked. He could never be one of them.

  Towaye watched the giant redheaded Sergeant call the men over and they disappeared around the other side of the big house. Towaye knew he must go soon. He would get no second chance. He wanted to see Manteo before he left, but that could not be. Quickly removing the English coat with which he had covered the hole, he crawled through and out. The earth smelled good and clean as he rubbed it from his face. Looking around quickly, he ran up the earthen bulwark and lowered himself over the wall, holding tightly to the edges of the sawn timbers. He silently mouthed his war cry and let go. A delicious freedom filled him as he fell through the air.

  Landing and tumbling, he jumped to his feet and ran for the cover of the forest. He looked over his shoulder and saw a lone soldier watching him in open-mouthed astonishment. He heard a shout. Two more soldiers appeared at the wall. A ring of smoke blossomed from one of the muskets and a musket ball whizzed over his head like an angry hornet. He ran furiously for the forest, entering its delicious, dark coolness. He pulled the scratchy English shirt off of him as he ran through the trees, tossing it away. He left the breeches on. Later, on the other side, he would make a breechclout out of them. He came out of the forest and ran down the beach. The sound stretched before him. It was a long swim, but he could do it. And with the little wind canoe gone to Croatoan, they could not come after him. He paused only for a moment for they would surely be chasing him. Again he shouted out his war cry and ran into the water, plunging forward. He swam furiously at first, then settled into rhythmic, powerful strokes. He was well out of range when they reached the beach and began firing.

  Exhausted, he crawled up onto the beach of the mainland and staggered into the trees. He wanted to run on, but collapsed on the mossy forest floor. After a few moments he sensed a presence and looked up. Wanchese’s broad brow furrowed slightly as he watched him with another two braves.

  “It is little Towaye,” said Wanchese, “back from the land of the Coat-Wearing People.”

  ***

  It was nigh near the end of the day when Towaye stood before the great Mamanatowick, Powhatan for his report. Powhatan was talking quietly with one of his wives. It took all Towaye’s strength to stay on his feet. They had run all day, but he dared not stumble. All his life he had heard of the Mamanatowick’s absolute power and his terrible anger. When it came to punishment, his was more swift and terrible than the English.

  Powhatan fixed his eyes on Towaye, making him flinch. Powhatan smiled. “It has been a long time since I sent you to Roanoke to be captured by the English. Now you have finally returned to us. It is good. I thought the English had killed you.”

  Towaye smiled “No, Grandfather, I was captured as you wished, and taken to the land of the English.”

  “Did you count their warriors, their big guns and ships?”

  Towaye hesitated. “Yes, Grandfather, for a long time. But then I ran out of numbers for them, for there are too many.” Towaye waited for Powhatan’s response, fearing it.

  Powhatan’s eyes seemed to burn a hole through Towaye. Then he turned to Wanchese. “You will bring Towaye with you when you return to Dasamankpeuc. Now I have two who know the ways of the English well enough to report on them. We will feast now.”

  The old man turned to Towaye. “Sit close to me, Towaye, and tell me of your time in the lands of the English.”

  Towaye sat on a mat beside the Mamanatowick as the women rose to their feet to begin serving the food. He looked around at the people, his people, hearing the comforting tones of their language, seeing their dress, their fine, healthy features, their brown skin, and it was good.

  ***

  John White and the others walked wearily up the beach of Roanoke Island in the heat. The trip back up the sound in the shallop had worn everyone out. The winds had been contrary and they had been forced to beat back and forth all of the first day under a broiling sun. They’d made camp on the mainland, then spent the next morning covering the rest of the distance. Now, with the sun directly overhead, White looked forward to a brief rest in the coolness of the great house before he met with the Assistants.

  No one spoke as they trudged through the dappled light of the woods, their footfalls rustling softly on the leafy ground. From the distance came the rhythmic whack of an axe against a tree. Coming out onto the field fronting the fort, White saw several men at the top of the palisade, working to shore it up, George Howe and his young son among them. George spotted them, immediately sending his son off to tell the others they’d arrived. George came down and met them inside the gate. Maggie and the others continued on into the fort, leaving White and Manteo.

  “Welcome, John!” said George.

  White clasped Sir George’s hand in greeting. “How have you fared these last few days?”

  “All is well,” said Sir George. “Work is progressing.” Sir George looked at Manteo, who stood by White’s side attentively. “But I have some bad news for our friend, Manteo.”

  “What news?” said Manteo.

  “Towaye has run off. I’m afraid he has gone over to the Roanokes at their village at Dasamankpeuc.”

  Manteo frowned. “Towaye is no run away. Towaye gone hunting. I find Towaye.”

  Before White could say anything, Manteo ran off toward the main gate.

  “Fie upon it!” said White. “I should have taken Towaye with us.”


  Sir George shrugged. “He would have run off eventually, that one.” Sir George looked around and stepped closer to White. “In sooth, John, there is something more worrisome than that. I think that Abraham Bane and Raleigh’s other Devon gentlemen have been meeting in secret with Captain Stafford.”

  “Have you any proof?”

  “No. But a young soldier I trust has told me so. And I have seen with my own eyes Bane, Reed and Stewartson leaving the storehouse together, followed a short time later by Captain Stafford.”

  White frowned. “But that does not necessarily mean that they were in there plotting.”

  “Aye,” Sir George admitted, “but methinks it means that they bear watching closely.”

  White nodded. “Where is Captain Stafford now?”

  “He should be back soon. He has been out all day drilling his soldiers. My son went to inform the other members of the board that you are back. They eagerly await your report.

  Sir George smiled. “John, what happened at Croatoan?”

  “Much, George. I will tell you as we walk.”

  As they walked along the common White continued, “We have the Croatoans’ promise of help, but they do want something in return, some kind of badge. They had been treated badly by the men Governor Lane left here and they are afraid that we will mistake them for the Roanokes or another tribe.”

  Sir George nodded as they paused outside the big house. “Not an unreasonable request, John, given all that has happened.”

  “Aye,” said White. “I think I shall have Manteo help us to build a fish weir such as they have in the waters near his home village. With their weirs, they catch very many fish.”

  George Howe nodded. “Aye. A splendid idea. Speaking of such things, when first we arrived here, I had Manteo show me how to catch crabs in the Croatoan fashion. All that is required is a line, a fish head, and a basket. Would you like to join me after the meeting to catch some for dinner?”

  White was troubled but he managed a smile. “Some other time, my friend.”

  Sir George smiled. “No matter. I will catch enough for us all.”