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

by Paul Clayton

  “Good sir,” she called, “come inside now.”

  The man muttered something incomprehensible, then laughed.

  Mary turned to the men. “Quickly. He’s out of his head. Get him up to a bed and cover him well. I will tend to him later.”

  John White’s fevered brain ticked and clattered like a thousand discordant machines in a clocksmith’s shop. In his dream he was being thrown about in a violently rocking carriage as it raced through a stormy night. His little Eleanor was with that woman. He could hear the shrew’s screams and threats over the noise of the storm. Lightning flashed and he had a vision of little Eleanor cowering in the corner, her head bowed, her little shoulders shaking. He stuck his head out in the wind and rain, calling to the driver to hurry. They must get to her quickly. The thick-eared woman was unbalanced enough to hurt her -- and beyond the palisade Powhatan and his savages threatened.

  White heard the whip crack and felt the carriage pick up speed. It took a turn in the road and he felt the wheels rise up. They spun through the air and he was thrown violently against the door. Rain poured in as the horse whinnied and ran off. White heard nothing from the driver, just the whirring of the spinning carriage wheel above. He stood painfully. Wind-whipped rain struck his face as he looked about. The wheel, half its spokes missing, went round and round, clicking and whirring. Lightning shattered the sky. White called out for help but heard only the sound of the spinning wheel.

  Mary Moyle carried the soup bowl up the stairs. Young Katie passed her, coming down.

  “How is he faring?” asked Mary.

  “Better. His fever’s broke and he’s on the mend.”

  Mary turned at the top of the stairs and went down the hall, entering the room quietly. White lay with the covers up to his neck, his eyes closed. He opened them as she approached.

  “What day is it?” he said.

  “Lord’s Day. You’ve been unconscious for two days now.”

  White sat up worriedly and looked around. “Where is Sir Walter? I must speak with him.”

  Mary nodded sternly. “Eat the soup I’ve made for you. Then you may speak with him in the garden.”

  White took the bowl from her, the aroma suddenly stirring his hunger. He spooned some down as the woman opened the window.

  “The storm has long passed and the sun is shining. I suppose a little air will do you good now.”

  White looked up from his soup to speak to the woman but she had gone. He hurriedly drank down the rest of the soup, delighting in the warmth it imparted to his bones. He got out of bed and took his clothes from the chair, dressing quickly.

  In the kitchen, a serving boy pointed White to the door. He went out and spotted Sir Walter on his knees digging in the garden. He approached.

  “They told me you were awake,” Sir Walter said without turning around.

  “I have come to speak with you about Roanoke,” said White.

  “What about it?” Sir Walter said.

  “For the love of God, sir, we have people over there.” White’s voice rose angrily. Two soldiers with pikes hurried around the wall and approached.

  Sir Walter turned to White and stood. He clutched something that appeared to be a brown river rock as big as his fist. The two soldiers walked over and took up position on either side of White.

  “The return is not there, Governor,” said Sir Walter. “The Company is not getting their return.”

  “To hell with the Company,” said White. He advanced on Raleigh and the two soldiers stepped before him. “My daughter is over there!” White shouted. “My granddaughter!” White’s face was red and his breathing was ragged. The soldiers pushed him backward toward the gate. White realized it was madness to talk to the great gentleman thus, but he could not stop himself. The two soldiers continued to push him backward roughly.

  “Wait,” said Sir Walter. “Leave him.”

  The soldiers backed off a bit and White stared at Sir Walter in amazement. Sir Walter held up the thing he had in his hand. “This will change the world.”

  White looked closely and realized it was a root of some kind. Had Raleigh gone mad? Had the whole world gone mad?

  “‘Tis a potato,” said Sir Walter, “from America. What you do not harvest, you may leave in the ground for a time. See? I have only just now dug this one up and it has kept. ‘Tis ideally suited to the people here, lazy as they are, for it requires almost no labor.”

  White stared wordlessly at Raleigh as the two soldiers hovered close by.

  Sir Walter laughed. “You simply throw it down, cover it with a little dirt and it grows! Amazing, eh?”

  White moved his lips but could not find his voice. Raleigh had gone mad and all was lost now.

  Raleigh laid the root in a hole and placed some earth over it. He looked at White. “John Watts had been readying a fleet of three ships for privateering in the Caribbean. Then the Privy Council rescinded his license. Did you know that?”

  “Nay, m’Lord,” croaked White, barely able to get the words out.

  Sir Walter frowned. “Reports of increased shipbuilding by the Spaniards have been coming in. And the Council’s stay against shipping was reinstated.”

  White forced words out. “My people, m’Lord, my daughter…”

  Sir Walter ignored him. “However, if Watts was also resupplying Virginia and carrying fresh colonists there, I believe I could get the stay lifted. Are you ready to go back?”

  White swallowed, still incapable of speech. He nodded

  Sir Walter frowned. “Then you had better hurry home and await word from John Watts. May God grant you fair winds to Virginia!”

  Sir Walter turned away, resuming his gardening. He did not look up and White walked away, flanked by the two soldiers.

  ***

  Lionel shivered in the chill air of the darkened garden. This night Sir Robert and Ananias would climb the ladder to the fighting platform and lower a rope. Manteo, the good savage, would then attach a basket of dried meat and herbs to be hauled up. Lionel’s part was to alert them if any soldiers wandered down from the big house. It was dangerous, for even though the captain and his soldiers got their meat in their raids and ate in the forests, bringing none back to the fort, they were a vile and brutish lot and would certainly punish the gentlemen for this. The cutpurses Lionel had known in London were gentlemen by comparison to the captain and his men.

  So far tonight, however, the soldiers were quiet. A bit of light caught Lionel’s eye as the cottage door opened. Sir Robert and Ananias exited. Sir Robert had a length of rope coiled and slung over his shoulder.

  “Lionel,” said Sir Robert, “how are our friends behaving tonight?”

  “Good, methinks. A few are hanging about the big house, but they have been quiet.”

  “How long have they been there?”

  “As long as I have been standing out here.”

  A sharp howl of laughter echoed from the big house.

  “Perhaps I spoke too soon,” said Lionel.

  “No doubt they are discussing the guard schedule,” said Sir Robert.

  Ananias laughed nervously.

  They listened a few moments longer and Sir Robert said, “Well, Ananias, it will not get much darker. Let us go now. Lionel, keep a sharp eye.”

  “Aye.” As Lionel watched the two men disappear into the darkness, he wondered what Manteo would give them. More meat, he hoped. Peenay, as he now lovingly called his wife, needed it badly. She was growing too weak. They all were. He shook his head. These gentlemen, despite their breeding and supposed, intelligence, were sorely incompetent. And that could mean their doom.

  Robert led the way along the common under the dim starlight. They turned in toward the palisade wall at the gap between the Bane cottage and the cottages the soldiers had deserted since moving en masse into the big house. Robert whistled softly and Francis Smith, the gray-headed servant to widow Bane opened the Bane cottage door. He nodded surreptitiously and Robert started up the ladder against the palisa
de that led to the fighting platform. Ananias followed.

  Robert pulled himself up onto the ledge and waited until Ananias came up and squatted next to him.

  “Keep low,” said Robert, “or you will silhouette against the sky.”

  “Aye.”

  Robert began lowering the rope over the outside of the palisade wall. When he had let it all out he waited, holding it in his hands like a fishing line. “Ananias,” he said softly, “do you think the soldiers have made more boose?”

  “Aye. They must have a secret cache of corn that they stole from the savages.”

  “I believe so,” said Robert.

  Ananias nervously watched the blackness of the compound.

  “How fares Maid Maggie?” said Robert softly.

  “The same,” said Ananias. “She is absolutely convinced that ‘twas a young Captain Stafford who killed her father so long ago.”

  Robert felt a tug on the rope and began pulling it up hand over hand. “‘Tis not out of the realm of possibility,” he said softly.

  “What did he say?”

  The voice was not Ananias’s or Robert’s and both men froze. Several soldiers were evidently standing around below in the blackness. Why had Smith not warned them? Robert wondered angrily. The plan had been for Smith to knock loudly on the Bane cottage door if he saw anyone approaching.

  “We’ll teach ‘em a lesson they’ll never forget,” another anonymous voice answered.

  Robert guessed by the pauses in their conversation that they were passing a bottle back and forth.

  “Aye, burn them out.”

  “Demon savages.”

  Robert stared at Ananias’s frozen form. Ananias’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “What was that?” one of the voices below said.

  “I dunno.”

  Robert heard their trod as they walked off. He resumed pulling up the rope and its load. Finishing, he lay the skin bag down and untied it. Waiting a few minutes more, he nodded silently at Ananias. They started down the ladder. At the bottom, Francis Smith approached them.

  “What happened?” whispered Robert.

  “A soldier saw me in the garden. I was speaking to him when the other two approached from the gate. I could not knock or call out.”

  Robert nodded. “Of course. Better get back inside.”

  Robert and Ananias hurried down the common and into the Dares’ garden. Robert knocked softly and Lionel Fisher let them in.

  Eleanor Dare stood at the hearth, stirring a pot. A pine knot torch burned in the iron sconce.

  “God be praised,” said Eleanor. “Did you get it?”

  “Aye.” Robert put the skin bag down. He took out the pemmican and gave it to Eleanor. Another smaller skin bag contained tobacco. Robert sat and took out his pipe, packing it.

  “I need a smoke after that.” He looked at Lionel. “Two besotted soldiers wandered into the darkness below us to have a chat.”

  “I’faith?” said Lionel.

  “Aye. Where is Parson Lambert?”

  “He is with Sir Charles,” said Lionel. “His fever has worsened.”

  Robert nodded as he held a lighted rush to his pipe.

  “I am going back to the cottage, Master,” said Lionel.

  “Aye,” said Robert as he puffed out a cloud of blue smoke, “please tell Margary I will be back by nine of the clock.”

  Ananias lit his pipe from the pine knot torch and sat.

  Eleanor put the spoon down and sat at the table. Wiping her hands on her skirts, her face grew grim. She glanced up at the loft where Maggie was reading softly to Virginia from Aesop’s, then she turned to Robert. “Robert, Maggie has said that ‘twas the captain who killed her father when she was a child.”

  “Aye. Ananias told me earlier.” Robert expelled a stream of smoke, staring after it. He looked up at the loft. “Maid Maggie, could you be mistaken? ‘Twas a long time ago.”

  “Nay, sir,” Maggie’s voice floated down. “I am not.”

  “How old were you when your father was killed?”

  “Six, maybe a little older.”

  Robert nodded thoughtfully. “The captain served in Ireland around that time.”

  “Aye,” said Ananias.

  “His finger is missing,” Maggie called down to them. “He is the one.”

  Robert said nothing. He already knew the man was a dangerous brute. He needed no further proof.

  “Husband,” Eleanor said in a somber voice, “we must leave here.”

  “Aye,” said Ananias tiredly.

  A knock came at the door and Ananias went to it.

  Parson Lambert entered and shook his head. “Charles Colpepper has passed away. Will you join me in a prayer for him?”

  Robert frowned grimly but inside he was pleased. The gentleman’s passing signaled the turning of a tide. With the exception of Mortimer, the Devon gentlemen were all gone now. And Mortimer was an unstable man, an unreliable ally for Stafford. Stafford’s support was all gone. He would never concede that, of course, and would continue to bully Reed and Mattingly. But Robert could perhaps help them stand up to Stafford. He must make them see that their only chance now was to break ranks with the captain and join with him.

  Maggie came down the stairs to stand beside Eleanor. Robert and the other men got to their feet and bowed their heads for the prayer.

  “Dear God,” Parson Lambert prayed sadly, “we beseech thee to welcome thy humble servant, Charles Colpepper.” Lambert intoned the prayer for the dead. Then, “Dear God, deliver us from the trials and tribulations of life in this troubled place. Just as Moses delivered the Israelites from the desert, please deliver us from this wilderness to a new land of milk and honey. Our father, who art in heaven …”

  “Amen,” they said in chorus when he had finished.

  Maggie went up the stairs as Eleanor went back to the hearth. Ananias grabbed a plank leaning against the door. He used it to span two chairs and made a bench, urging the men to sit. Eleanor put down a cup of sassafras tea before each man and went up the stairs to Maggie and Virginia.

  Another knock came at the door and the men looked at each other suspiciously. Ananias went to the door and Manteo entered. He sat at the table.

  “Thank you for your gifts,” said Robert.

  Manteo nodded slightly. “Captain Stafford and his men return,” he said.

  Ananias sipped his tea noisily. “He will be enraged over the deaths of his soldiers.”

  “Aye,” said Lambert.

  Robert turned to Manteo. “Manteo, how many men does the captain have guarding the shallop these days?”

  “Four.”

  “Four?” Robert’s brows furrowed. “I am afraid he gives us more credit than is due.”

  “No,” said Manteo. “Soldiers find tracks of Roanoke people in the mud. That is why.”

  “Whatever the reason, Robert,” said Ananias, “stealing the shallop now is too dangerous.”

  “I have another plan,” said Parson Lambert.

  The other men looked at him.

  “Instead of just two men going off, we could evacuate everyone to Manteo’s village at Croatoan.”

  “But we would still have to steal the shallop to get them there,” said Robert.

  “Aye,” said Ananias.

  “Nay,” said Parson Lambert. “If Manteo’s people would help us, four of their canoes could carry everyone.”

  Manteo nodded. “Croatoan people will help.”

  Ananias rubbed his forehead tiredly. “‘Tis still too dangerous. We would have to move over twenty-five people, women and children, cold, sickly babes? All without making a sound?”

  “Aye,” said Robert, “‘tis better that two of us take the shallop.”

  “Ananias,” Eleanor called down hopefully, “we could make a fusion to quiet the children.”

  “It does sound rather difficult,” said Parson Lambert, “but I think …”

  Manteo held up his hand for silence. “Listen …”

&nb
sp; The muted sounds of running feet and voices could be heard outside. Robert and Ananias went to the door and opened it. The flicker of firelight was visible on the common. A musket boomed.

  Robert looked up at the sky. “Fire arrows! The savages are attacking!”

  Ananias called up to the loft. “Eleanor, Maggie. Quickly! Get Virginia and go into the garden.”

  The men rushed out of the cottage, making their way to the common where the water barrels and wetted hides were kept to douse fires. They passed a solitary fire arrow burning harmlessly in the dirt. Ananias heard a shout from the ramparts. A jet of light and smoke issued from a musket, illuminating the shabby form of a soldier. Another cannon boomed and Ananias heard a metallic scrape as the men began reloading. A commotion came from the gate.

  “Look!” said Robert.

  Some soldiers hurried through the gates dragging an unconscious man. His feet made two tracks in the dirt.

  “A savage,” said Robert.

  As they drew closer Ananias saw that he was right. The soldiers quickly dragged their prisoner past and dropped him in front of the gaol. Captain Stafford ran over to look at the man. “Lock him inside,” he ordered.

  “Another fire arrow!” someone shouted.

  Ananias saw the bright point of light arcing down at them. He crouched instinctively as it landed harmlessly in the dirt. Up on the ramparts another musket boomed thunderously.

  “That’s enough,” Captain Stafford called in the darkness, “they want ye to shoot, fools. Don’t ye understand? Yer wastin’ our powder!”

  Ananias turned to Robert’s dark form. “I am going back to Eleanor.” As he ran off he heard Stafford shouting orders to his soldiers.

  Maggie crouched in the dark behind the big house with the others. Half a dozen children cried in terror but she could do nothing to comfort them. Maggie marveled at the fact that Virginia was not one of them. Two shadowy figures came around the building and a child screamed in fright. Maggie mouthed a prayer as she noticed the long hair of the first. She breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the familiar friendly features of Manteo. Ananias was beside him.

  “Eleanor,” Ananias called, “‘tis safe now. Come back to the cottage.”