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Authors: Giles Milton
Big Chief Elizabeth: The Adventures and Fate of the First English Colonists in America (28 page)
BOOK: Big Chief Elizabeth: The Adventures and Fate of the First English Colonists in America
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Sir Walter was brought to trial in November 1603. He had no clear knowledge of the charges against him until they were read out in court, and since he was accused of treason, he was forbidden any representation. There was no cross-examination of the prosecution, no investigation of the evidence. Indeed, the court had already decided upon Ralegh’s guilt; it was merely a question of proving it in as short a time as possible.
Ralegh categorically denied the charges and launched into an impassioned defence of his own conduct. “Your words cannot condemn me,” he told the bullying attorney general. “My innocency is my defence.
Prove
against me any one thing of the many that you
have broke, and I will confess all.” He defended himself with considerable skill against a torrent of abuse, innuendo, and false witnesses, but nothing he could say was going to persuade the sham court of his innocence. Although no evidence was produced to substantiate the charges, the jury reached its verdict in minutes. Ralegh was found guilty of treason—a crime that had only one punishment: “You shall be drawn on a hurdle through the open streets to the place of your execution,” declared Lord Chief Justice Popham, “there to be hanged and cut down alive, and your body shall be opened, your heart and bowels plucked out, and your privy members cut off and thrown into the fire before your eyes. Then your head to be stricken off from your body and your body shall be divided into four quarters, to be disposed of at the king’s pleasure.” Popham paused for a moment before adding, “And God have mercy on your soul.”
Prove
against me any one thing of the many that you
have broke, and I will confess all.” He defended himself with considerable skill against a torrent of abuse, innuendo, and false witnesses, but nothing he could say was going to persuade the sham court of his innocence. Although no evidence was produced to substantiate the charges, the jury reached its verdict in minutes. Ralegh was found guilty of treason—a crime that had only one punishment: “You shall be drawn on a hurdle through the open streets to the place of your execution,” declared Lord Chief Justice Popham, “there to be hanged and cut down alive, and your body shall be opened, your heart and bowels plucked out, and your privy members cut off and thrown into the fire before your eyes. Then your head to be stricken off from your body and your body shall be divided into four quarters, to be disposed of at the king’s pleasure.” Popham paused for a moment before adding, “And God have mercy on your soul.”
The trial and verdict had a most unfortunate consequence for King James. For years, Ralegh had been an object of hatred and ridicule among the poor and needy. Now, those very same people took pity on the underdog and made him the man of the hour, celebrated as a champion of truth and justice. “Never was a man so hated and so popular in so short a time,” declared one, while a Scottish friend of King James’s warned that “when he saw Sir Walter Ralegh first, he was so led with the common hatred that he would have gone a hundred miles to see him hanged, [but] he would, ’ere they parted, have gone a thousand to save his life.” King James mulled over this unexpected development and, after fiddling with his codpiece, heeded the popular sentiment. Ralegh was granted a reprieve on the day of his execution and was sent back to the Tower—a convicted traitor stripped of his rights. “Name, blood, gentility or estate I have none,” he wrote in despair. He was living on borrowed time.
Life in the Tower proved surprisingly comfortable. Sir Walter had two servants to attend his needs and a third to bring him fresh ale. Bess moved in as well, along with their second son Wat
(Damerei had died in infancy), and Thomas Harriot was a regular visitor. Ralegh continued to harbour dreams of sending a new fleet to Virginia; shortly before his imprisonment, he had written a letter to Robert Cecil in which he predicted that “I shal yet live to see it an Inglishe nation.” Yet even he must have been dismayed to learn that the man who picked up his broken colonial baton was none other than Sir John Popham, the Lord Chief Justice, who had presided over his trial. Popham’s role was to act as chief organiser of the new enterprise—much like Sir Walter—but his motivations were not quite so noble as those of Ralegh and Harriot. He harboured no dreams of civilising the “savages” and spreading the gospel through a “barbarian” land. He had recently completed the draft of an act of Parliament which made banishment “into such parts beyond the seas” the punishment for vagrancy, and many courtiers muttered that his only interest in the new colony was as a human waste pit—a land that could be “stockt and planted out of all the gaoles of England.”
(Damerei had died in infancy), and Thomas Harriot was a regular visitor. Ralegh continued to harbour dreams of sending a new fleet to Virginia; shortly before his imprisonment, he had written a letter to Robert Cecil in which he predicted that “I shal yet live to see it an Inglishe nation.” Yet even he must have been dismayed to learn that the man who picked up his broken colonial baton was none other than Sir John Popham, the Lord Chief Justice, who had presided over his trial. Popham’s role was to act as chief organiser of the new enterprise—much like Sir Walter—but his motivations were not quite so noble as those of Ralegh and Harriot. He harboured no dreams of civilising the “savages” and spreading the gospel through a “barbarian” land. He had recently completed the draft of an act of Parliament which made banishment “into such parts beyond the seas” the punishment for vagrancy, and many courtiers muttered that his only interest in the new colony was as a human waste pit—a land that could be “stockt and planted out of all the gaoles of England.”
Popham’s plans took some time to formulate. It was not until the spring of 1606 that this “huge, heavie and ugly man” declared himself “affectionately bent to the plantation of Virginia” and began to summon “gentlemen merchants &c unto him.” Royal involvement was to be minimal, for King James did not care one jot for the land of the Virgin Queen. On one of the few occasions he brought up the subject of Virginia, it was to ask Lord Southampton if it was true that the skies there were filled with flying squirrels. Southampton confirmed James’s query, later confiding to a friend that “you know so well how he is affected to these toys.”
The new project for Virginia was rooted in the triumphs and failures of the past. To those involved, it represented the last great Elizabethan adventure—a burst of energy and enthusiasm that belonged to a waning age. The commanders, colonists, and sailors were fired by the same dynamic recklessness that had fuelled the likes of Grenville and Lane; even the maps and charts they loaded into their ships were those prepared by Ralegh’s men two decades earlier.
Even the new Virginia Company, set up to establish “a colonie of sondrie of our people into that parte of America,” was dominated by Ralegh’s men. One of the leading grantees was none other than his old friend Richard Hakluyt, whose monumental anthology of exploration,
The Principall Navigations
, had helped reawaken enthusiasm for the New World. It contained all of the journals and diaries from the Roanoke enterprise, including those of Ralph Lane, John White, and Thomas Harriot, as well as ships’ logs, letters, and charters concerning America. It was priceless information for the new organisation, for it gathered together everything that was known about “the great and ample country of Virginia.”
Even the new Virginia Company, set up to establish “a colonie of sondrie of our people into that parte of America,” was dominated by Ralegh’s men. One of the leading grantees was none other than his old friend Richard Hakluyt, whose monumental anthology of exploration,
The Principall Navigations
, had helped reawaken enthusiasm for the New World. It contained all of the journals and diaries from the Roanoke enterprise, including those of Ralph Lane, John White, and Thomas Harriot, as well as ships’ logs, letters, and charters concerning America. It was priceless information for the new organisation, for it gathered together everything that was known about “the great and ample country of Virginia.”
When Ralegh had sent his colonists to sea in 1585, he had been aided by Queen Elizabeth I, who loaned him a ship, weaponry, and gunpowder. King James showed no inclination to follow suit, and the Virginia Company was therefore obliged to cut costs by acquiring older and cheaper equipment when it came to assemble an expedition. The armour, swords, and bucklers were Elizabethan castoffs, obsolete military equipment that was little use in the set piece battles now common in Europe. The tents and textiles supplied to the new colonists were faded and worn and had cloth seals marked with the late queen’s insignia. Even the coined money belonged to the Elizabethan age: the shillings, sixpences, and halfgroats carried by the settlers all bore the portrait of the late queen.
Talk of a new colonising expedition spread like wildfire through the back streets of London, and preparations for the voyage gathered apace. By learning from the mistakes of Ralegh’s abortive colony, the new organisation was able to assemble the proper tools and victuals with lightning speed. Hakluyt’s presence in the Virginia Company proved especially useful, for it was he who had prepared the lists of workmen, tools, and goods that were considered necessary for the first Roanoke project in 1585. The dockside at Wapping was soon alive with the bustle of supplies being packed, bottled, and prepared for loading.
Even the fleet was assembled without too much difficulty. The
Virginia merchants hired three ships—the 120-ton
Susan Constant
, the smaller
Godspeed
, and the diminutive
Discovery
. The only threat to the speedy progress came when the crew of the Susan Constant, who had been “tiplinge and drinkinge” for much of the day, lost control of their ship and allowed her to slam into another vessel.
Virginia merchants hired three ships—the 120-ton
Susan Constant
, the smaller
Godspeed
, and the diminutive
Discovery
. The only threat to the speedy progress came when the crew of the Susan Constant, who had been “tiplinge and drinkinge” for much of the day, lost control of their ship and allowed her to slam into another vessel.
With everything going more or less according to plan, the Virginia grantees began casting about for a suitable commander to lead their expedition. Mindful of the disasters that had afflicted the Roanoke voyages, they plumped for the solidly dependable Christopher Newport, a swashbuckling, one-armed Elizabethan adventurer who had accompanied John White’s Roanoke rescue mission in 1590 and was one of the most experienced seamen of the golden age. He was known as “Captain Newport of the one hand,” but his disability did not deter him from launching himself into his new employment with gusto. He was given “sole charge and command” until the expedition reached Virginia: then, and only then, he would open the sealed packet that named the president and council of the new colony.
There were some 104 settlers on the three ships, of whom half were “gentlemen” and the rest labourers. There were no women in this first fleet, and the lack of farmers or husbandmen suggests that no one had learned the painful lessons from Roanoke. It would not be long before the colonists were bemoaning the fact that they lacked “some skillfull man to husband, sett, plant and dresse vynes, sugar-canes, olives, rapes, hemp, flax, lycoris, pruyns …”
The fleet sailed from London shortly before Christmas 1606 and made speedy progress towards the Caribbean. From here it followed the now familiar route along the Virginian coastline. The fleet’s destination was Chesapeake Bay—Hakluyt had seen to that—and the first priority of the settlers was to establish a fortified village in a strategic location. There was to be no search for John White’s lost colonists in the early months, for it would require all their effort to establish themselves on foreign soil, but they had not been forgotten. Many in London were curious about their fate, and there was much
discussion as to whether they could have survived almost twenty years in the wilderness without a single supply ship from England. Few gave any credence to White’s suggestion that all the colonists had moved themselves to Croatoan. The consensus was that the majority had relocated their settlement to somewhere close to the southern shores of Chesapeake Bay, which, as all who had studied the Roanoke enterprise knew, was fertile, friendly, and “not to be excelled by any other whatsoever.”
discussion as to whether they could have survived almost twenty years in the wilderness without a single supply ship from England. Few gave any credence to White’s suggestion that all the colonists had moved themselves to Croatoan. The consensus was that the majority had relocated their settlement to somewhere close to the southern shores of Chesapeake Bay, which, as all who had studied the Roanoke enterprise knew, was fertile, friendly, and “not to be excelled by any other whatsoever.”
No one was keener to learn whether the lost colonists were still alive than the merchants of the Virginia Company, who were only too aware that they would be a source of invaluable information about the land and its “savages.” But they also knew that the first priority of the new settlers—and the reason why they had set sail—was to establish themselves in Virginia and build dwellings and storehouses. The search for White’s men and women was likely to be a large-scale undertaking, for more than sixty miles of land separated Chesapeake Bay from the northern end of Pamlico Sound, almost all of it uncharted forest inhabited by bears and “wolfish dogges.” To search such a huge expanse of wilderness would require a considerable number of heavily armed colonists, especially if they were going to be marching through potentially hostile territory. It was a task that would have to be carried out at the earliest opportunity, that was certain, but not in the first days of the colony.
At the end of April, some four months after setting sail, the sailors and colonists awoke to a wonderful sight: “faire meddowes and goodly trees,” wrote one, “with such fresh waters running through the woods as I was almost ravished at the first sight thereof.” This came as no surprise, for Harriot himself had waxed lyrical about these shores during his winter visit in 1586. He had also written of the friendliness of the Indians in these parts, and the settlers eagerly rowed ashore in the expectation of a warm welcome. Many on board had read the journals of Lane and White—skillfully edited by Hakluyt—and had swallowed the fiction of the jovial savage. They soon
discovered that these particular natives wanted neither friendship nor trinkets or beads. “There came the savages, creeping upon all foure, from the hills like beares, with their bowes in their mouthes, charged us very desperately in the faces.” The English landing party was stunned by the ferocity of the attack and was very nearly driven into the water by the hail of arrows. It was only when the Indians had “felt the sharpnesse of our shot” that they slunk back into the forest. It quickly dawned on the colonists that their arrival in the New World was not going to be greeted with quite the welcome that Harriot had led them to expect. It was some years before they learned that his
A Briefe and True Report
had not exaggerated the friendliness of the Chesapeake Indians, and that this unprovoked ambush had a strange and sinister explanation.
discovered that these particular natives wanted neither friendship nor trinkets or beads. “There came the savages, creeping upon all foure, from the hills like beares, with their bowes in their mouthes, charged us very desperately in the faces.” The English landing party was stunned by the ferocity of the attack and was very nearly driven into the water by the hail of arrows. It was only when the Indians had “felt the sharpnesse of our shot” that they slunk back into the forest. It quickly dawned on the colonists that their arrival in the New World was not going to be greeted with quite the welcome that Harriot had led them to expect. It was some years before they learned that his
A Briefe and True Report
had not exaggerated the friendliness of the Chesapeake Indians, and that this unprovoked ambush had a strange and sinister explanation.
Captain Newport now announced that the time had come to open the sealed packet containing the names of the president and council. There was considerable excitement as he unfurled the document, for there were many hopefuls among the fifty or so gentlemen, but most were disappointed. Instead of a thirteen-man council, Newport’s list contained only seven names, and many of the obvious choices were missing. The appointment of Edward Maria Wingfield to the presidency was begrudgingly accepted, since he had helped to establish the Virginia Company, but most of his seven deputies were virtual unknowns. The only person of any talent on the council was Captain John Smith, an adventurer whose flamboyant exploits had already raised many an eyebrow in London. He bragged of having been a pirate and mercenary, and even claimed to have slaughtered several of the Ottoman sultan’s wrestlers in hand-to-hand combat. He was eventually captured and sold as a slave, and it was only when he murdered his Turkish captor with a threshing bat that he managed to escape back to England.
Smith was a colourful man in almost every respect. His large head was crowned with a shock of red hair, and his face was so covered in beard and whiskers that he looked more like an animal than
a man. Every inch the Elizabethan adventurer, he was destined to tower over his gentlemen colleagues.
a man. Every inch the Elizabethan adventurer, he was destined to tower over his gentlemen colleagues.
Once Newport had named the council, he turned his attentions to the second of his orders from London: to find a site for England’s new colony in “the strongest, most wholesome and fertile place.” After weeks of exploration and reconnoitring, he announced that he had selected the perfect spot—a low-lying island in the James River, a site that bore an uncanny resemblance to Roanoke. Unfortunately, Newport lacked the military eye of Ralph Lane; his island stronghold soon revealed itself to be a potential death trap. It could easily be attacked from the river, the marshy soil was far from “wholesome,” and the surrounding swamps were a perfect breeding ground for malarial mosquitoes. Worse still, the settlers were obliged to use the river as their water source, drawing water from a site just a few feet away from their sewage outfall.
BOOK: Big Chief Elizabeth: The Adventures and Fate of the First English Colonists in America
11.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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