Cate of the Lost Colony

by Lisa Klein

  He frowned and his eyes flashed. But the storm on his brow was evidently not the one Fernandes feared.

  “Thus we are obliged to stay at Fort Ralegh—”

  Roger Bailey interrupted him. “What happened to Grenville’s men? Did the savages get them?” He pointed to Manteo standing in the pinnace. “He must know. He is one of them.”

  I admired the way Manteo stood erect, not even glancing at the accusing finger.

  “We have women and children with us,” said Ambrose Vickers. “We can’t stay here if we’re likely to be attacked.”

  His words caused murmuring among the others and White raised his hand to silence it.

  “There is still a fort. We will reinforce it and build up the existing houses.” He paused, then said with emphasis, “And because of Manteo, we have friends among the Indians.”

  I did not understand why the men were angry with the governor and not with Fernandes, who stood before the cabin door as if he owned everything inside. I wondered if he would have dared to treat Ralegh as he treated White.

  Vickers, too, noticed the pilot. “Wasn’t he ordered to take us to Chesapeake? And now he refuses. That’s mutiny!” he shouted to his fellows.

  John White stepped so close to Vickers their noses were almost touching. “The weapons are on this ship and my soldiers are in the pinnace. Shall you fight Fernandes and his seamen for control of the ship? Shall we begin this venture with bloodshed?” His voice was low and tight. “Not while I govern here.”

  Vickers seemed to consider his choices. His shoulders slumped. “Governor, I am at your service,” he said. But his tone was sullen.

  “Men, to your tasks,” said White. “Unlade this ship.”

  The slow business of transporting goods to the island commenced. Bailey oversaw the rebuilding of the shallop, a large rowboat with a mast and sails that had been stored in pieces in the hold. The pinnace and the shallop sailed back and forth over several days. Fernandes watched the operation in silence from the forecastle deck.

  The women and children were the last to leave the ship. We climbed down into the shallop, which Ananias guided through the inlet and along the leeward side of the barrier islands. There in the shallows were thousands of sleek cranes with long necks and thin legs. As we passed by, they rose as one into the air. The flapping of their wings sounded like sails unfurling in a gale. Jane sat on one side of me and Eleanor on the other, our elbows linked, as the shallop entered the wide bay. We were all silent with expectation, even little Edmund, and Betty’s lips moved as if she was praying. The island of the Roanoke loomed larger as we drew near. Its shore was dark and dense with trees, their roots like fingers planted in the water. I peered into the swampy thickets and wondered what man or beast could survive there. I wondered if Grenville’s men had been killed by Indians and thrown into the black water or attacked and carried off by the Spanish.

  Ananias sailed around the island to a more hospitable landing point, where the pinnace was lashed to some trees. A path had been cleared from the sandy shore to the fort. The site was already a hive of noisy activity, with men cutting down trees and milling the timber by hand. Others were repairing the palisade, a tall fence made from roughly hewed planks. From a forge erected in a clearing came a rhythmic clanging. A grinning Georgie Howe walked by, carrying a cask on his shoulder. Perhaps his mind was weak, but his body was strong and his temperament always sanguine.

  But where was Fort Ralegh? I expected to see a high stone wall and a tower within. The soldiers were shoveling sandy dirt into wheelbarrows and dumping it on a high mound. To my dismay, I realized the fort was no more than an irregular earthen wall. Most of it had slid into the ditch around it, and the soldiers were shoring it up again. Inside the fort was a single building, the armory. I watched as three soldiers heaved a gun from its carriage onto a wooden platform built atop the earthworks. I was not reassured. Every city had its defenses; even peaceful London was surrounded by a wall. But here the houses were located outside the fort, and new ones were being built outside the palisade. If the Spanish attacked, or the Indians who were not Manteo’s friends, we would be at their mercy unless we were fortunate enough to be inside the fort.

  I regarded the settlement, too, with dismay. The dozen cottages built by Grenville’s men had fallen into decay. Their doors sagged and the rush roofs were collapsing. Weeds grew waist high and melon plants with their thick, wide leaves twined like snakes through the windows. Ananias was already repairing the largest cottage to house the governor and his family. It had two rooms, one with a wooden bedstead, the other with a hearth and a rustic table. I wondered where I would sleep.

  Eleanor, undeterred by the disorder, was already scrubbing the grimed hearth. She grunted and sweated with the effort.

  I was not meant to be anyone’s servant in Virginia. But watching Eleanor working in her condition made me ashamed, so I took a broom and began to sweep. Beneath the dried leaves and twigs there was no floor. I stared at the packed dirt in dismay.

  “We have mats somewhere,” Eleanor said, wiping her brow on her sleeve. “But not enough for both rooms.”

  “I will find some rushes to strew on the ground,” I offered, thinking of the tall grasses I had seen near the shore.

  I set out on a narrow path that led toward the shore beyond the landing place. It was hot and still in the woods, and my shift and bodice clung to my body. Even my legs were damp with sweat. The clangor of the settlement grew faint, until all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing and the insects buzzing around my face. I wondered why I did not see the exotic creatures and plants John White had painted in such detail, the red fruits hanging in clusters of leaves, the yellow and black butterflies. The countryside around Wiltshire was more beautiful than what I could see of this island. The queen’s garden had flowers of every hue and was not so full of insects. I brushed past brambly shrubs that snagged my skirt. If I walked long enough, perhaps I would come to the Eden I had imagined.

  I had gone far from the settlement when it occurred to me that I should not have ventured out alone. I began to wonder about the savages. If they were friendly, as White claimed, why had they not greeted us when we landed? Could they be hiding and watching me even now? I turned in a circle, smiling and holding my palms upward in a gesture of innocence. For some reason it made me feel safer. Then I heard a whispering that rose and fell. I froze until I realized it was the waves lapping the shore. The sound recalled to me my task, and I made for a patch of rushes near the water. I had not thought to bring a knife to cut the rushes or a cord to bind them. The sharp grasses cut my hands, so I wrapped them in my petticoat and pulled at the rushes until I had more than I could carry. Then I took off my sand-filled shoes, hiked up my skirts, and waded into the water, crouching to bathe my raw and aching hands.

  The inlet was so still, the water so clear, I could see fish large and small darting in the lee of the rocks, an entire colony beneath the water’s surface. One was greenish in color, with fins as elaborate as a lace ruff. I was about to reach into the water and grasp it, when I beheld out of the corner of my eye a sharpened stick resting against a log, the point stuck in the stream bed. It seemed Providence meant for me to catch a fish that day.

  Careful not to stir up the water, I took a few steps closer and reached for the stick. That is when I saw, behind the log, the figure of a man. His legs were in the water, the rest of him lying on his back over a rock. His chest was bristling with arrows, and his bloody head had been staved in.

  Chapter 21

  I, Manteo, Try to Keep the Peace

  I heard the woman’s voice, faint and far away. I thought of Ahsoo, the maiden who sang so beautifully that the river became alive with leaping fish. They labored so hard to reach the music, even swimming against the stream, that many died on the journey.

  I ran toward the sound, leaping like one of those fish. The woman was not singing but screaming. I readied my bow.

  An English maiden with dark hair stood
in the stream. She held a fish spear like a weapon. Her eyes were wide with terror. When she saw me she lowered the spear, but the fear did not leave her eyes. I recognized her as the maid who had fallen into me on the ship, the one who had served the English weroance. And I saw the dead man in the water.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked. She shook her head. Seeing her tremble, I wanted to touch her, to reassure her. But I only said, “You are safe now.”

  The soldiers were just behind me. The one named Grem picked up the maiden and carried her until she could walk by herself. They also took the body back to the fort.

  The dead man was George-howe, one of John-white’s councilors. His head was beaten in with a club. Sixteen arrows stuck in his chest. I recognized the bone points and feathering on the arrows.

  “This is the work of Wingina’s warriors,” I said to John-white.

  “A year later, and they seek revenge?”

  I nodded. Did he think the Roanoke would forget the killing of their weroance?

  I let the English see my anger at George-howe’s killing, so they would know I was blameless. Instead they blamed John-white, because he had told them the native peoples were friendly. They looked at him with one question in their eyes: Can you keep us safe?

  It was my idea to ask Weyawinga what she knew about the fifteen lost men and the killing of George-howe. So I guided John-white and twenty men to Croatoan, a two-day trip by boat. My breast was filled with gladness to be returning home. The English would see how my kin would welcome me. My people would see that John-white and his men respected me. Look how far they have come to understand our ways and live among us, I would say. And my people would be proud to be allies with the English and receive their powerful gifts.

  But as the shallop came near the shore, war cries rolled toward us on the wind.

  “We are betrayed! It is Manteo’s doing,” Bay-lee shouted. The men fired their muskets in alarm, and John-white shouted for them to stop.

  I stood in the bow of the shallop and called to my kinsmen, “It is I, Manteo! We come in peace.” I leapt into the water, putting myself before the muskets. My grief was great that they distrusted me.

  But the English lowered their weapons. Hearing my voice, my kinsmen came out from their hiding places and welcomed me with smiles and embraces. When all the men had come ashore, they led us to the village.

  Weyawinga, my mother, greeted me as a fellow weroance, then embraced me as her son. Yet I could see that my English clothes dismayed her, so I removed my shoes and put on a deerskin.

  “We must feed the English with great ceremony, to gain their trust,” I said to her.

  A feast of squashes and nuts and venison was prepared. We smoked uppowoc until the men were content.

  I translated between the tongues as John-white asked Weyawinga about the missing soldiers. She said they had been attacked by warriors from Dasemunkepeuc and Secotan.

  “Are you certain?” John-white asked. “They are not allies of one another. And the Secotan chief and his wife received us warmly and allowed me to draw them and their village.”

  There was no mistake, my mother insisted. “The peoples who once fought each other conceived a hatred for Ralf-lane and his warriors that has drawn them together for their protection.” She also said Wanchese now led the Roanoke.

  John-white thought for a moment, then said to Weyawinga, “You must take this message to all the peoples of Ossomocomuck: in ten days, we will receive them at Fort Ralegh and assure them of our peaceful intentions. If they accept our friendship, we will forgive the wrongs of the past.”

  My mother agreed to this, and I left with the English. John-white was pleased at the success of our visit. But Bay-lee said he did not want all the strange chiefs to come to their island.

  The day of the meeting came and passed into night, and none of the weroances of Ossomocomuck came to the fort. Only Weyawinga sent a councilor. It disturbed me that no one else had come. Why did they not show themselves?

  “The Indians are not interested in peace,” said Ana-nias the brickmaker. “Indian” was their term for all the native peoples together. “Therefore it is time for war.”

  “Let us wait. Our time is not their time,” said John-white.

  “While we wait, hoping for peace, they are readying for war,” the brickmaker argued.

  Bay-lee said, “Indians cannot be trusted. You heard Weyawinga say they have united against us. We must destroy them.”

  I knew the governor did not want a war, but he was not strong enough to prevent one. His councilors wanted to show their strength and repay George-howe’s killing. It was Bay-lee’s plan to attack Dasemunkepeuc, Wingina’s village. He and John-white and I would go with twenty soldiers. So on a moonless night, the silent pinnace crossed the sound. I hoped I could persuade Wanchese to surrender and thus prevent a war. A smoking fire showed us the village. The soldiers attacked just before dawn and the surprised villagers fled into the woods. One warrior turned to fight and Bay-lee shot him. I ran up to him, expecting to see Wanchese.

  But the warrior bleeding from his back and gasping for air was not Wanchese. He was one of my kinsmen, a Croatoan.

  “Call back your soldiers!” I shouted to John-white.

  Then I demanded of the injured warrior, “Have the Croatoan turned against the white men? Are you an ally of Wanchese?”

  His eyes rolled up in his head and he was still.

  Soon we understood our terrible mistake. Ana-nias captured a warrior named Tameoc, who said that Wanchese and the Roanoke who killed George-howe had left Dasemunkepeuc. Tameoc’s band of Croatoan, fifteen in number, had moved in to gather the corn and pumpkins left in the fields.

  “Why did you not recognize your own people sleeping around the fire?” said Tameoc, rebuking me angrily.

  My heart was cut with an arrow of grief, but I hid the wound. I would not show weakness before Tameoc or the English. But I said to John-white that we must offer hospitality to Tameoc’s kin if we wanted their forgiveness and friendship.

  So after the slain warrior was buried, Tameoc’s band came to Roanoke Island. John-white received them in his house. He gave them bright cloth and vessels of iron and copper. His daughter fed the men from her cooking pot and the women and children sat outside and ate. This pleased them because it was also their custom.

  The maiden who had discovered George-howe’s body lived at John-white’s house. I heard the governor call her Ladi-cate. Through the open door I watched her serve the women and children. All were silent, having no common language. Ladi-cate sat among them as they ate. Her eyes never strayed from their faces. Her hair, black as a raven’s wing, shone in the sun. I wondered what it would be like to touch it.

  During the feast I praised the fallen warrior to Tameoc, saying John-white regretted his death. I reminded Tameoc these were not the same English who killed Wingina, but they still planned to punish Wanchese for killing one of their own. Tameoc agreed not to become Wanchese’s ally. When the Croatoan left, I was satisfied I had brought peace.

  John-white was also pleased. He announced I would be made Lord of Roanoke and Dasemunkepeuc, with authority over all the native people. To be a weroance was a gift beyond my deserving. But I accepted it as the hero accepts everything that befalls him on his journey, the good as well as the bad. At first I wondered, How can I persuade the native peoples to trust the English when they will not trust each other? But I knew both parties needed me to make themselves understood. No one but I could be the maker of peace.

  Before I could become a lord, I had to be baptized. John-white explained this ceremony of water would be a sign of the English religion taking root among us. I agreed, for I had learned about their beliefs from Hare-yet and found many likenesses to my own. They believe in one chief god, who is the creator of the sun, moon, and stars. Like us, they believe that after death a man’s spirit either dwells with their god or in a fiery pit, which they call “hell” and we call “Popogusso.” They also petition their god in
order to to receive good things.

  So I let John-white lead me into the water and call upon the spirit to enter me. Afterward he laid on my shoulders a mantle trimmed in fur and beads and feathers.

  I had become a lord. A weroance. I waited for the montoac to fill me.

  Chapter 22

  A Birth

  For a long time I was haunted by the sight of George Howe’s body pierced with arrows, his head smashed like a melon. Almost harder to bear, however, was witnessing young Georgie’s grief. When he saw his father’s body, he tried to wake him up. When his father did not stir, Georgie began to howl. It was terrible to hear: the deep voice heaving and sobbing. Joan Mannering, his aunt, tried to soothe the giant boy. But his wordless lamenting went on until his father’s body was buried and Georgie could no longer see him. Then from time to time he would stop people and say, “My papa is in the ground, where the worms are. Do you think it is cold under there? Georgie is not cold.” But he shuddered anyway.

  “Your papa was a good man. And you are a good boy,” people would say, then hurry away to keep the innocent boy from seeing their own sadness, their own fear.

  George Howe had gone crabbing by himself the day he was killed. Immediately the governor forbade anyone to leave the settlement alone or unarmed, and the guard was doubled at the fort and around the palisade. Everyone said I was lucky to be alive myself. But I wasn’t frightened. I thought because I held no prejudice against the Indians, they would not harm me. Perhaps the shock of finding George Howe had only numbed me to danger and fear. Eleanor was more blunt; she said I was crazy.

  The raid on Dasemunkepeuc was carried out to end the threat from those who had killed George Howe. When White and his men returned, they brought several Indians to Fort Ralegh. Thinking they were captives, the soldiers rushed to seize them. All the women retreated into their houses to peer from the windows. I stood outside the governor’s house, too curious to think about hiding. I saw Jane Pierce also watching from her garden.