Cate of the Lost Colony (10 page)

Chapter 16

From the Papers of Sir Walter Ralegh

Memorandum

13 March 1587. C.A. was a very foolish maid not to destroy those letters and then to defy Her Majesty. I know where I must worship and how to pray for mercy, and thus was spared the Tower. Then, to my surprise, she gave me Babington’s estates, which even I expected Walsingham to receive. He falls while I rise; such is the way of this world. The income will permit me to send more colonists to Virginia.

The bigger prize, the captaincy of her guard, seems to me more punishment than reward. It keeps me at the queen’s side like a dog on a chain. The other night she called upon me to scratch her back, saying she had an itch that could not be satisfied. What could be more humiliating? Yet this would be a most desirable office were my C.A. nearby. Think how easily we might meet, even pass the night together.

Ah, my mistress knows exactly what she does. She keeps C.A. locked up to punish me.

25 March. Today I have been so altered in my thinking I hardly know myself anymore.

The maid called Emme has been continually frowning at me, and I was determined to know the reason. So, passing her in the hall, I asked if her lovely forehead pained her.

“’Tis the sight of you that pains me,” she said. Then she drew me into the empty wardrobe, where she began to denounce me as a rank opportunist and a villain. “My friend languishes in the Tower while you proudly prance around here in your new livery,” she said, with a disdainful eye toward my suit.

I defended myself, saying Lady Catherine’s indiscretion had caused the queen to be embarrassed, and once Her Majesty’s mood recovered, she would no doubt return.

“And how long will that be, for one who is innocent? The indiscretion was all yours, Sir Walter Ralegh,” she said, scorning my very name. “My friend loved you truly, but you only feigned your love in verses.”

I admit she startled me. “She loved me, you say? But she refused my kisses. We barely touched one another.”

“An honorable man considers the lack of looseness to be a virtue in a woman,” Emme said coldly.

I thought I knew the marks of love in a woman: the desiring looks, the coy refusals followed by the revelation of a bit of the breast. Now I am not sure. Catherine is not like any woman I know.

“Sir Walter, right now you should be at the queen’s feet, begging her mercy on Catherine’s behalf. I am forbidden to speak about her, but you are so close to Her Majesty’s heart you could ask her for anything.” Every word of hers rebuked me most harshly.

I thought of the estates and other favors that could yet be withdrawn, putting the Virginia expedition at risk, if I displeased my queen now. As I hesitated Emme struck again.

“Do you know Catherine stood before the queen and proclaimed her love for you? Was that not brave? Had you a similar courage, you might be a man worthy of her love. But you are not.”

She pushed me out of the wardrobe and into the hallway, where I stood as if paralyzed.

Now I cannot sleep. I see my Catherine resolute before the queen, defying her with her words. Like a fool expecting the king to see truth in his antics. I did not know the maid possessed such greatness of mind.

What could she gain by her defiance? Nothing. She lost everything rather than deny her love for me. I must adore her for it, though she despise me. Indeed I despise myself. I threw her into the lion’s den while I sat at a fine table feeding my self-regard. I deserve to be flayed alive.

I swear, never again will I, Sir Walter Ralegh, be such a damnable villain in matters of love, but behave with the highest honor.

Poem

That pearl I careless cast away

Now o’er my heart asserts her sway,

And I am vowed, at any cost

To revive her trust, that I have lost.

10 April 1587. All my good intentions come to naught before my canny, heartless queen. I meant to deal honorably in the matter of C.A. but was forced into the path of deceit.

I asked if Her Majesty was prepared to forgive the poor maid, who was young and inexperienced and had no one to protect her.

“She had me. That would have been enough for any young lady in the kingdom,” she retorted. “Do you dare plead for her?” Her words carried a tone of threat.

“I do, for she does not deserve her misfortune.” Remembering Emme’s accusations, I added, “I confess I misled her with my affections.”

“How could you affect her? She is low and base. Did I show you too little love?” she asked, now petulant.

“I have repented of my infidelity to you, my sovereign mistress,” I said, trying to sound humble. “Not you, but I, loved too little.” The flattering words were like chalk in my mouth.

But she smiled and I went on with my calculated lies, saying I desired to be free of the maid’s charms and only a great distance between us would keep me from temptation. She seemed to take my bait.

“When do your ships sail for Virginia?”

“At the end of this month, God and Your Majesty willing.” Then I pretended to be startled. “Nay, I see the drift of your thoughts! That would be too cruel. I’ve heard the maid has a fear of wild animals. I pray you, send her to Ireland instead.”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “Ireland is too near. I have decided to send her to Virginia.”

That had been my intention all along, for I knew how Catherine longed to see the New World. I feigned dismay to hide my delight. But then she played her trump card on top of mine.

“As for you, my Warter, find someone to govern the colonists in your stead. I cannot permit you to go to Virginia. Ever.” She smiled with satisfaction. “It is too far from me.”

I had lost the game.

21 April 1587

To Capt. John White,

The voyage will proceed, although I am prevented by a will higher than my own from governing Virginia with my own hand. Therefore I designate you as my lieutenant governor with authority over matters of law, military discipline, and the ordering of civil society.

Your first duty will be to relieve the fifteen men left by Grenville to safeguard the fort. Second, remove everything of use and value from the settlement and depart for Chesapeake, where the land is open and fruitful, the bay more easily navigable for trade. There you will establish a permanent settlement and name it “Ralegh.” Supply ships will be dispatched to that region.

Manteo is to be installed as Lord of the Croatoan and Roanoke. His loyalty and judgment give me confidence he can govern his fellow savages and persuade them to peaceful relations with us.

For you and your assistants, Simon Fernandes, Ananias Dare, et al, I have had coats of arms devised, making you gentlemen, that all may know the colony will be governed by men of good standing.

I also entrust to you one Catherine Archer, who, through no fault of her own, has displeased Her Majesty. She is a maid most virtuous and dear to my heart, besides possessing a rare wit for a woman. Enclosed are the wardship papers and the monies to support her for as long as she shall need your protection. I desire that she be a free woman of sufficient means, servant to no man or woman, until she shall choose a husband of her own liking.

Yours,

Sir W.R.

P.S. Please hand the enclosed letter to the Lady Catherine
before you sail
.

To the Lady Catherine Archer

My dear,

To convince you of my truth, I will be plain. I have erred, not in loving you, but in failing to recognize and hence defend my feelings for you. My wrong has been shown to me by your true friend, the Lady Emme.

Sorrow consumes me at the thought of your suffering. Her Majesty punishes me with a daily bondage which is inescapable at present. But I have dealt for your freedom in terms I pray will bring you happiness. The queen thinks your exile a harsh penalty (to both of us). I think it may satisfy the curious part of you that hungers for adventure.

As for the part that used to regard me, I dare not presume it remains unchanged. I have proved myself unworthy of you. And yet if you deign to love me still, I would swim the seas to join you and be the truest man in all of Virginia.

If you cannot forgive me, I wish you to find a worthy husband among the brave men seeking their fortunes in Virginia. John White has been entrusted with the means to enable you to live comfortably there.

Send me a reply before the
Lion
sails. Until then I will live in hope.

Your penitent servant,

Walter Ralegh

Chapter 17

The Lion Sails

I
stood on the wharf on a morning in late April, ready to begin a new life. I shaded my eyes against the sun. After so many weeks in the Tower, the light seemed painfully bright, the noises sharp and loud. The air smelled of fish and tar, wet ropes, and the promise of adventure. Before me was a freshly painted ship with three masts so tall I had to crane my neck to see the tops.

“She’s called the
Lion,
” said the guard who had brought me from the Tower. The sight of the ships made him talkative. “By the look of ’er she’ll carry about 120 tuns.” To my questioning look he replied, “A tun is a hogshead that’ll hold 252 gallons of wine. She’s a merchant ship, but ye will see the gunports there ’tween the decks, four on each side. She’s got two anchors and a spare; just don’t lose ’em all.” He laughed and went on. “A Spanish galleon be much greater, but not so swift or steady; should ye meet one on the high seas it’ll be like a bear that’s tied to the stake, with the hound nipping and tearing at it until he brings her down.”

He glanced at me. I must have looked pale. “Don’t mean to frighten ye, lady. I’m saying the
Lion
here be like the dog that can run from the bear.”

I gulped at the thought of being attacked by Spanish ships. “Doesn’t the bear sometimes kill the dog?” I said.

“In the arena, you mean? The queen loves the sport, don’t she. Bearbaiting.” The guard launched into this new topic while I studied the smaller ship moored beside the
Lion.
Three gunports faced me. I wondered how many guns were mounted on the Spanish merchant ships.

“Would the Spanish attack a ship carrying only men and food and building supplies?” I asked.

In reply, the guard pointed to the soldiers standing on the quay wearing helmets, brass gorgets over their leather jerkins, and swords at their belts.

“Them will protect ye. There be dangers on land even if ye escape those at sea, that’s for certain.”

I turned away to watch the ships being loaded. With seeming ease, workers slung great bundles and firkins on their shoulders or backs, treading the narrow planks that led from the wharf to to the ships’ decks. Men shouted to one another, and cargo thumped and banged the decks as it was lowered into the hold. Two men struggled to push a cannon onto the
Lion.
A soldier lent a hand while the others leaned against a barrel and watched. The boarding planks threatened to break under the weight. A cart carrying a blacksmith’s forge nearly crashed to the quay before it was brought under control.

I saw my fellow voyagers gathering. Some wore woolen cloaks and the plain garb of tradesmen and carried their possessions in bundles. Others were dressed like gentlemen fresh from court. My attention was drawn to a wide-shouldered young man who carried himself like an eager child. He smiled at me and I saw he was simple-minded. I returned the smile, thinking he was an unusual sort of colonist. An older man I took to be his father put a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

I wondered what these men would think of me. Would I be accepted among them, and on what terms? I watched servants carry bedding, pots and pans, and even furniture on board. I had few possessions and no money. Would I have to work as a servant to earn my livelihood?

“Get yourself aboard now, lady,” said the guard. “They’ll be weighing anchor before the tide turns.”

But I hesitated, suddenly unwilling to leave the country where I had lived my entire life. Though I had no one who desired me to stay, it pained me to go away. The prospect of being the only woman in a colony of men—and a servant to boot—also filled me with misgiving. How could Elizabeth, who had treated me like a daughter, consign me to a future so uncertain, even unsafe? I lingered on the wharf, growing ever more reluctant to board the ship. And then I saw a woman and a young boy going up the plank. Another woman followed on the arm of her husband. Her belly was round with an unborn babe. Apparently Sir Walter had decided to plant a colony that could grow and flourish. I would not be the lone woman after all.

“I’d give my eyeteeth to be young again,” said the guard, watching the colonists board. “Think of the fortunes they’ll make.” He summoned a shipman to carry my trunk, and I boarded the
Lion
without looking back.

From the ship’s deck, which was not so wide as it appeared from the wharf, I looked over the expanse of the city. I was glad to be freed from the grim, gray Tower and hopeful as the church spires that rose above the thatched roofs. Whitehall Palace, where I had lived for four years, was invisible beyond the bend in the river. The barges and wherries plying the Thames looked small and insubstantial.

“Get below! Move on! My ship is no place for women.”

The voice belonged to a man with face and hands as brown and creased as shoe leather. He wore a black doublet with Spanish lace at the neck and sleeves.

“Simon Fernandes, be careful how you speak around the ladies,” said the man with the large-bellied wife. He took the scowling pilot’s hand. “Ananias Dare, Governor White’s son-in-law,” he said. The two men measured each other with their looks.

And then I saw behind the pilot a tall, familiar figure. He was dressed in a well-cut doublet and hose and soft leather shoes. His hair was bound at the nape of his neck and his skin was as tawny as that of Fernandes. It was Manteo. I had but a moment to wonder whether Ralegh was also on board, when Ananias Dare took my arm to guide me belowdecks. My unwieldy skirts tangled in the ladder and I pitched forward, landing in a scene of utter confusion. The between deck was piled waist high with cargo, leaving only the narrowest of walkways. The passengers spread their mattresses, blankets, and belongings atop the cargo, marking their spaces for the journey. Dare’s wife had claimed a desirable spot near an open gunport that provided light and fresh air. The mother and her young son were hanging a cloth from the beams to curtain their sleeping pallet. The berths fore and aft were reserved for the ship’s officers and the gentlemen of the colony. Near the stern, a rough-looking seaman—an Irishman, judging by his accent—and a soldier were arguing, the soldier saying he refused to lie next to a papist.

There were perhaps forty people in the hold. They spoke to each other as kin and neighbors of long acquaintance. I was keenly aware of being the stranger among them. Clothed still like a lady, I must have looked quite out of place. I found a spot near the hatch that led to the ship’s hold and spread out my cloak, for I had not even a mattress to lie upon. I thought of Emme and all the nights we had slept next to each other. Would I ever see my friend again? Lying on my cloak, I waited for the tears to come, but my eyes remained dry. Not until the ship drifted from the dock and the current began to carry her down the Thames did the tears slip down my face, and I knew what I had hoped for was impossible: that Sir Walter would board the ship, declare his love, and sail with me to Virginia.

I wiped my tears and shook myself awake from this dream for the last time.

The
Lion
was en route to Portsmouth to pick up more passengers when the ship’s boy came below and, to my surprise, called out my name, saying the captain wanted to see me. Everyone’s eyes were on me as I followed the boy up the ladder. Compared to the lodging below, the captain’s cabin was spacious, containing a sleeping berth, a table covered with a carpet, two chairs, and an open chest of maps and charts. On the wall hung pieces of armor and instruments of navigation such as I had seen in Sir Walter’s library.

The captain had graying hair and a kindly demeanor. He introduced himself as John White and took my hand in his. I noticed the ink-stained fingers and realized he was the very painter Ralegh had sent on the first voyage.

“Sir, I have beheld with wonder your drawings of the New World, and they made me long to visit this paradise called Virginia,” I said.

Captain White smiled at the compliment and picked up a sketch on the table as if he wanted to show it to me, then put it down and broached his business instead.

“As the deputy governor of Virginia, I would consider it an honor if you would become a member of my household there,” he said. “Along with my daughter, Eleanor, and her husband, Ananias.”

“You require a servant, then?” I said. John White did not look like a harsh master. I could do far worse.

“No, you will not be a servant, but more like kin,” he said. Seeing my confusion, he continued, “I have been given a sum of money to cover your passage and establish you in the colony.”

“By Elizabeth?” I could hardly believe the queen had shown me both mercy and generosity.

“No, it was Walter Ralegh’s doing,” he replied. “He said he felt an obligation to you.” He turned and fumbled among the papers on his desk until he found a sealed letter. “He asked me to deliver this to you. I apologize for the delay. The ship’s business has consumed me.”

I left the cabin clutching the letter and stumbled into Manteo. My face met his doublet and I blushed as red as an apple, remembering the sight of his bare chest with its raised markings. He quickly righted me and withdrew, but not before our eyes met and he gave a nod of recognition. Without a word he passed into the cabin, and I sank down on a pile of sails. I realized I had crushed Sir Walter’s letter in my fist. I unfolded it, read it quickly, then leapt to my feet.

Send me a reply before the
Lion
sails,
he had written. It was too late; London was behind us. When we landed in Portsmouth I could dispatch a reply. But what would I write? I pored over the letter again. On the first reading, it had seemed plain and dutiful. Now I discerned a flame of feeling, more honest than passionate. Reading it a third time, I noted the self-regard in his complaints about his own suffering. Yet he signed himself as a humble penitent. I did not know what to think of it. Why had he waited until my very last moment in England to admit his wrong and attempt to know my mind? Was he afraid of my reply? Perhaps he did want me to find a husband in Virginia and thereby release him from any duty to love me.

My speculations seemed fruitless. I would never know what Sir Walter’s letter truly meant. And I was in such turmoil I did not even know my own mind. So I would not reply until I could write something truthful.

We docked at Portsmouth, where twenty or so farmers, laborers, and women waited with their belongings. Some were taken on the smaller flyboat and the rest boarded the already-crowded
Lion
. They received a sullen welcome, and out of pity I made room for one Jane Pierce, a single woman of about twenty-five. Like me, she had no family, but she had a mattress and kindly agreed to share it with me.

At Plymouth, the last port before the open seas, we took on casks of fresh water and lay at anchor for several days, waiting for favorable winds. I borrowed paper and ink from John White and ruined it all with striking out what I had written. If Sir Walter loved me, he could follow me to America. All he had to do was board one of his own ships. He had the means. But did he have the will to leave his estates, his honors, and his royal mistress—to exchange them all for love?

Only time would tell the answer.