Cate of the Lost Colony Read online

  Manteo looked down. Perhaps he did not like to be reminded of that day. Then he blushed, if that is possible for one with such tawny skin.

  “Ladi-cate, there is a legend of the hunter Algon—”

  Jones interrupted. “Enough of this formal parley. Cate, ask him in plain English if he knows who attacked us and killed Ananias.”

  I had risen halfway from my chair, sensing that Manteo was about to disclose a deep truth I wanted to hear. But at Jones’s words I sat down again. Could they hear the catch in my voice as I asked Manteo what he knew about these enemies?

  “They are allies of Wanchese who will not accept me as their weroance.” He paused, then spoke to all of us. “When spring comes they will return. There are enough of them to take this fort.”

  I heard the sharp intake of breath and a muttered oath from Ambrose.

  “We must strengthen the palisade without delay,” said Graham. “And train every able-bodied person to handle a musket.”

  “My people can help you,” Manteo said.

  “Can you teach the men to use bows and arrows? The women, too?” Ambrose paced back and forth. “We will trade anything for weapons.”

  “You misunderstand,” Manteo said.

  Ambrose and Graham ignored him, caught up in their planning.

  “How then can your people help us?” I asked Manteo.

  He leaned toward me, his dark eyes wide and intense.

  “You must come and live with me. With us.”

  My heart was pounding. The edges of my sight grew blurred, until Manteo’s face was all I could see. The air in the armory was heavy with heat from the fire and thick with the smells of roasted fish and game and the bear grease from the Indians’ bodies. What did Manteo mean?

  “You, Moon Maiden, and the others. You would all be safer,” he was saying.

  Feeling dazed, I said, “How can we leave here? This has become our home, despite our troubles here.” I realized he had called me “Moon Maiden” again.

  “I must not ignore a message from the god Ahone. Ladi-cate, your destiny as a people lies with us. You must persuade the others.”

  Astonished and confused though I was, I did not for a moment consider Manteo deceitful or his mind unsound. I trusted him. Indeed, there was no one in all of Virginia I trusted more. His gaze was direct and intent upon me. His words fell on my ears like rays of moonlight on a field at midnight. I felt reckless with new hope. Our English God and His deputy, Elizabeth, had seemingly forgotten us, but Manteo and his god had not. Sir Walter’s ships could not make it across the ocean to relieve us, but Manteo had managed to reach us in waist-deep snow to offer us the means to survive.

  When Ambrose and Jones had silenced the hubbub, I stood up so I could be seen and heard by all and relayed Manteo’s offer. A clamor of voices, mocking laughter, and cries of “Live among savages? Never!” greeted my words.

  Then Betty spoke up in a loud, clear voice. “I have lived among them and they are God’s creatures, just as we are.”

  “Silence!” roared Ambrose, pressing his hands against his head. But the uproar continued, with voices insisting a supply ship would come, Bailey would return for us, or we could find our own way to Chesapeake.

  Manteo sat with his hands on his knees, staring straight ahead. His men looked tense as the colonists argued. He stood up and everyone fell quiet.

  “My people will accept you as brothers and sisters, our equals,” he said.

  “That would be to debase ourselves,” muttered Ambrose.

  This made my temper rise. “I am already kin to many Roanoke, for I was adopted by them,” I said. “How does that debase me?”

  “Nay, rather to live among Indians would be a betrayal of our country and our race,” said Jones, looking troubled.

  Graham pounded his fist on the table. “Our countrymen have betrayed us! The very ones with whom we shared the voyage and the labor of building this colony. Our best revenge is to stay alive however we can.”

  Alice Chapman spoke in a trembling voice. “I have lost my husband. Am I now to lose all my household goods, even my clothes, and dress in animal skins like Eve after the Fall?”

  Alice’s plea awakened my sympathy. I had once imagined Virginia to be a paradise and hoped for riches, not the poverty and misery in which we now found ourselves. Moved to speak, I demanded that the others listen.

  “This New World is nothing like what we expected. We cannot control the misfortunes that have occurred here,” I began. “Perhaps it is time for us to abandon our belief that we are superior in every regard, that we were meant to rule and not to submit.” My eyes were glistening with tears, and I could see nothing clearly save the truth I was trying to express. “Maybe nothing is more fitting than for us, newcomers in this land, to live in common with its native inhabitants. By fellowship we may end the strife between us, so all may prosper and none seek to destroy another. One day we may even restore the Eden we sought in coming here.”

  I had never spoken out at such length, yet no one interrupted me. I paused to gather the threads of my thoughts to a conclusion. “So let us accept Manteo’s hospitality. Let us all go and remain together. It will not be the end of our troubles. It will be difficult for some of us to adapt. But it is our best hope.”

  Our best hope. I blinked away tears until I could make out little Virginia sitting on one of the tables. I knew what Eleanor would choose, if only for the sake of her daughter. When she saw me looking at her, Virginia clambered down and toddled over to me. She gurgled with laughter as if it were a game to walk with no one holding her strings. I picked her up and said, “I have made my decision. We will go to Croatoan and make our future there.”

  I closed my eyes and buried my face in Virginia’s hair. I heard the voices around me. Of course no one was surprised that Cate Archer would choose to live with the savages.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard Alice say, “My baby and I have no one but you and Virginia. Take us with you.”

  Then Georgie’s aunt pushed back her stool from the foot of the table. “We will come, too,” she announced. “I won’t let the Indians kill Georgie like they did his father.”

  Ambrose exploded, stamping his feet. “I won’t have any of it! I will stay here and live and die an Englishman.”

  “Then you’ll do it alone,” said Betty sharply. “I nearly perished at the hand of an Englishman, but the Indians who were our enemies saved me. I would rather live among them than die among Christians, I swear to Jesus.”

  Ambrose gasped as his wife stepped to my side and held on to my arm for dear life.

  “Look at those shrews,” came a man’s scornful voice. “What’s wrong with you men, letting your wives rule you?”

  “The women are right and you know it,” said Graham. “Face the truth. There is no relief on the way. We are too few to defend ourselves. I’m for casting our lot with Manteo. Let’s take what we need and leave here.”

  Then Jones, the farmer, expressed his own doubts. “We can’t remake this island in the image of England. The soil is nothing but sand. I consent to leave also.”

  In the end even Ambrose Vickers relented, for he had lost his wife once and could not bear to lose her again.

  In the month between our decision and our departure, I had occasion to reflect on Manteo’s offer and to wonder about the wisdom of it. How could he be sure his people would welcome us? Would we not strain their own scarce resources? And could our planters expect any better success with the soil on Croatoan, an island similar to Roanoke, though larger? Was Manteo not concerned that our enemies might choose to attack us at Croatoan, thus endangering his people? Finally, I wondered if it was wise for us to abandon the fort. Though it had always struck me as insubstantial, it was better than nothing at all.

  To prepare for our departure, I packed the contents of John White’s household in two trunks, choosing only the most useful and valuable items. I buried White’s papers in a locked trunk because I knew how much he value
d them, but I put aside Harriot’s book of Algonkian and my own papers. Meanwhile the men pulled down several of the houses and stacked up the planks and hardware to take to Croatoan along with their tools. They gathered all the remaining weapons and armor and dismantled two guns from the fort. Ambrose finished building a shallop. As soon as the snow melted Manteo sent three twenty-foot canoes, and we filled these and the shallop with all our useful goods. On the second of March, in the year of our Lord 1589, we trod for the last time the path leading from the fort to the sandy shore with the solemnity of a congregation leaving a church after a funeral.

  The canoes were poised for departure when I remembered another promise made before John White left us. He had said to Ananias: If you should leave this island, carve on a tree or doorpost the name of your destination. I jumped from the shallop, getting wet all the way to my waist, and called to Ambrose to bring one of his carving tools. I found a tree near the shore that would be visible to anyone landing and explained why he must carve “Croatoan” into the trunk.

  “But John White is not returning,” he said, frowning.

  “Please, just do it. I’m fulfilling a promise.”

  Ambrose had finished the C, and beneath it an R, and then an O when Graham came down the path from the fort.

  “What are you doing, man?” he asked Ambrose. “Look, the canoes are pulling away. Come, Cate.”

  “But John White wanted us to leave a message,” I protested. “If we don’t, how will anyone know—”

  “Three letters are enough,” said Ambrose abruptly, wiping off his tool. I watched him board the shallop and thought with dismay that nothing John White wanted had come to pass.

  Graham took my chin and gently turned my face to his.

  “It’s no use, Cate,” he said. His eyes were soft with pity. “He is never coming. You must forget Ralegh, and I, Anne.”

  Chapter 38

  I, Manteo, Dance with the

  Moon Maiden

  And so, to fulfill Ahone’s will, I brought the twelve men, seven women, and six children to dwell on Croatoan. My mother welcomed them with due ceremony. Most of my people had never seen a person without black hair and tawny skin. I had to explain the strangers’ appearance and their way of dressing.

  “They are from a land beyond where the sun rises,” I said, pointing toward the sea once, twice, and a third time to indicate a great distance. “Therefore their skin and eyes are pale, and they must cover themselves so the sun will not harm them.”

  That summer the Englishmen’s bodies grew brown from the sun when their shirts turned to rags and fell from their backs. The women began to wear soft hides, and their arms and legs also darkened.

  “They are of our land now, and hence their skin becomes more like ours,” I said to explain the change.

  “But their hair does not darken, nor their eyes,” objected the suspicious ones.

  I related the dream I had received from Ahone. “As the black bear gave refuge to the hare, the strong must aid the weak.” If we fulfilled this duty, I said, Ahone would make our offspring great heroes. Because I was the son of Weyawinga, they believed I spoke truth. Thus their suspicion gave way to trust, and I began to hope when the English returned, as they must one day, they would know the goodwill of the Croatoan.

  The English, too, were suspicious when they first arrived in my village. They would not yield their armaments until we agreed two of their number and two of ours would guard them. They built four small houses from timber and dwelt six to a house. In that first planting season they worked their own fields. Then Ladi-cate and the medicine woman moved into one of our unused houses. They declared it warm and comfortable. With the two children they went about the village in a friendly manner. I was proud to see Ladi-cate speaking with my kin and showing them respect. The English and Croatoan children played together without regard for their differences. Over time they led their elders to trust one another, as a clever weroance brings about an alliance between unlike peoples.

  Grem was the first to take a Croatoan wife. When Tameoc visited with Jane-peers and his kinswomen, Mika and the soldier were full of joy to see each other. The joining ceremony took place during the season of ripening. Grem wore trousers, a jerkin made from hides, and feathers in his hair.

  I was glad of the marriage, for it would make the English and the Croatoan closer allies. Tameoc called Grem his brother. Our priests chanted their prayers and Ambrose-vickers read from his Bible. There were squash and wild turkeys roasted over the fires. Pies such as I had tasted in London. One of the soldiers played a tune on a pipe and Mika and Grem danced. Then all the English men and women. The steps were simple, with no leaping and crying out as is our custom.

  I watched Ladi-cate. Her hands touching as she smiled at Mika and Grem. Her skin, her eyes, and even her teeth shining as if the moon glowed within her. More than anything in the world, I desired to hold her hands and touch her lips. To dance with her as Grem danced with Mika. But how did one begin this English custom? I stood by gazing at her helplessly.

  Then Ladi-cate’s eyes met mine. She understood what I wanted. She came up to me and reached for my hand. Drew me toward the other dancers. Stepped and skipped and clapped her hands. I did the same. She put one of my hands on her waist and held the other, teaching me how to move with her. She released my hands, retreated, and bowed. Then returned to me. Laughed, a sound like the song of a thrush. We said not a word to each other. There was no need. A shiver passed through me whenever I touched her. Like the shock of plunging into a river on a hot day, only a thousand times more pleasurable. When the dance was over I dared to touch the back of her head, wanting only to keep her near. Would she draw back? She remained as still as a bird in my hand. Her long hair brushed my forearm. The gods made me bold. I put my free hand to my lips, then reached out and touched her lips. She pressed them against my fingers. Her gray eyes did not leave my face.

  Algon never had such joy with his Moon Maiden as I did with my Ladi-cate that night. Then I released her, for I knew in my heart she would not run, but stay near me.

  Chapter 39

  From the Papers of Sir Walter Ralegh

  25 January 1590

  My dear brother Carew,

  Her Majesty has at last granted my wish and I am to sail for Virginia! But here is the irony of my good fortune: I must pretend misfortune. The world will believe I am hiding in Ireland, out of favor with Her Majesty yet again. Conceal my true whereabouts as you would a stolen treasure. For you know the envious (and now ailing) Walsingham strives to block my every enterprise.

  I expect to report the colonists thriving, the savages converted, and Virginia producing copper, pearls, and all manner of riches. That will silence every critic.

  Bid me good luck in this endeavor and destroy the evidence of this letter.

  Yours, W.R.

  7 February 1590

  To William Fitzwilliam, Lord Deputy of Ireland

  Having roused Her Majesty’s wrath yet again, I am retiring to a remote place until my offenses are forgiven or forgotten. In my absence I hereby authorize my cousin, Sir George Carew, to sign leases in my name and continue the renovation of Lismore Castle. Do not attempt to communicate with me, as I desire not to be found.

  W.R.

  10 February 1590

  To John White, Esq.

  I am at last in a position to respond to your many petitions regarding the relief of the Virginia colonists.

  Her Majesty has graciously released three of my ships for the voyage. The Hopewell at 150 tons will carry ordnance, equipment, and colonists, with the Little John and John Evangelist as escorts. The Caribbean waters are thick with Spanish pirates this year, so the risk is great. Capts. Christopher Newport and Abraham Cooke have been persuaded by the promise of gain to undertake the voyage. Such is the state of my financial affairs that privateering must be the means to provision the colony.

  Present yourself at Plymouth in four weeks’ time where you shall learn more.

/>   Yours, Sir W. Ralegh

  Narrative of a Voyage to Virginia.

  Departed Plymouth on the 20th of March, 1590. Fair and auspicious winds SSE. John White and I aboard the Hopewell with Captain Abraham Cooke.

  Just before sailing, Cooke announced he would carry no colonists, saying they would be endangered in the event of a sea battle. His refusal angered White, for several of the passengers were kin to those already in Virginia and had sold all their goods to join them. I settled the matter by putting them aboard the Moonlight captained by my loyal friend Edward Spicer. Our ships will rendezvous near Hispaniola in July and thence to Roanoke Island.

  White had his second shock when he saw me in ordinary gentlemen’s clothing and heard the reason for my disguise. (I have had to bring Cooke into my confidence as well, but no others.) I do miss my pearl earring, which I am wont to dally with when I am thinking.

  I anticipate a merry adventure once I overcome the customary seasickness.

  I have not been disappointed. On the 5th of April, in the Canary Islands, we chased a flyboat and took her along with a cargo of wine, cinnamon, and other goods. Then we passed on to Dominica, where the savages rowed their canoes out to our ships and we traded with them. At the isle of St. John we took on water, then captured a 10-ton frigate laden with hides and ginger.

  At the isle of Mona, on the 9th of May, one of the seamen ran away to the Spaniards, to whom he no doubt revealed our destination and its location. Hoping to root out the conspirators, we burned the Spaniards’ houses and chased them, but they hid from us in caves where we could not reach them without danger to ourselves. I don’t know if we killed the treacherous seaman.