Roanoke (The Keepers of the Ring) (15 page)

Lane took a step back and motioned to his servant. The boy, an Irish lad of thirteen, dropped the unloaded musket and fumbled with the heavy arquebus tucked into his belt. Pemisapan
’s dark eyes shifted from Lane’s outstretched hand to the gun, and after a moment of hesitation, the chief wheeled and flew toward the woods. Lane’s Irish boy, the weapon now in hand, cocked the governor’s gun and fired at the Indian’s back. Pemisapan flinched; his back flowed with blood, but still he ran.

Two of Lane
’s soldiers roared in frustrated fury and sprinted after Pemisapan. Lane watched them go and frowned. “I fear we will lose those two today,” he muttered to no one in particular. “This savage Pemisapan’s barbaric warfare holds the advantage in the woods.”

“The result will be as God wills, but I wish we had not resorted to bloodshed,” Thomas Hariot answered, frowning at the bloody scene before him as he leaned upon his musket. Hariot possessed one of the most scientific and mathematical minds of all Europe, and as always, White noted, he offered a rational opinion. “For
‘tis possible,” Hariot went on, glancing to White for support, “that Pemisapan did not conspire to wound us, but merely strove to protect his own people.”

Lane cut Hariot short with a harsh glance. “There was a conspiracy against us, I can assure you,” he insisted, his index finger forcefully punctuating his words in the air. “The Indian boy we hold hostage told me of the plot against us.”

Hariot did not answer, but glanced again at White as if to ask
how do you reason with the unreasonable?
White knew he ought to say something, but he was less skilled than Hariot in dealing with people. As long as Ralph Lane was governor, there was no proper way to protest the bloodshed they had wrought.

He turned from Hariot
’s gaze and looked around. Several Indian women clutched their frightened children and cried softly, others knelt by the bodies of their warriors and tore handfuls of hair from their heads. One group of Indians stood unmolested in a knot, but stared at the scene around them with bewilderment and a vague sense of shame in their eyes.

Croatoans
. Manteo’s friends, probably, and therefore allies. But how long would they be friendly if they knew we are capable of such harshness?

One tall brave among the Croatoans looked familiar, and after a moment White remembered that the warrior was the son of a chief from Manteo
’s village. The warrior lived in the village where White and Hariot had dwelt for some weeks to learn the language. They had spent weeks among the savages, searching out native plants and medicinal herbs, and they had come away from the experience with a profound respect for the Indian culture and simple way of life. The Indians, White knew, understood vengeance and war. They did not understand conspiracy, for each tribe looked after its own affairs.

White walked toward the Indian, raising his hand to show that he intended no harm. “Governor Lane wishes you to go in peace,” he said, nodding gravely to the warrior. “You are Manteo
’s people; you are our friends. We wish you no harm.”

The brave turned and spoke to the others grouped behind him. White waited while the men of the group conferred.

“I fear some of our company have showed themselves too fierce.” White jumped at the low voice in his ear, then turned to see Thomas Hariot by his side. Hariot had learned well the Indian techniques of soundless movement.

“What if they ask the reason for this?” White asked, keeping his eyes to the ground. “How can I explain that Lane fears a conspiracy?”

Hariot stroked his beard as he studied the conferring Croatoans. “Our governor’s foretelling of an uprising may be but a self-fulfilling prophecy. We have slain some people, in some towns, for offenses that we might have easily borne. Perhaps this is the worst we have done so far. Verily I tell you, John, we may yet see the villages banding together to rise against us.”

“Let us pray
‘tis the worst we shall ever do,” White answered, glancing at the dead and dying around him. He lowered his voice: “For if those in the interior of this land hear and believe that Englishmen cannot be trusted—”

“Hallo, Governor!” A joyful cry echoed from the woods, and White recognized the Irish accent of Edward Nugent, one of the governor
’s servants. “Look at what we have brought ye!”

The man with Nugent held something aloft as the men entered the clearing, and John White felt his gorge rise. From the man
’s hand dangled Pemisapan’s severed head.

A forceful slap on the back jolted White back into the present. “Begging your pardon, governor—” Roger Bailie stood beside him, his wispy blonde hair blowing in the breeze.

White blinked, remembering when and where he was, and managed a weak smile. “What is it, Roger?”

“I
’d like to be in the landing party,” Roger said, pointing to the arquebus tucked into his belt. “I’m ready for anything that might come against us.”

After his recent thoughts, the sight of a gun in mild Bailie
’s belt was too much to bear. “I need you to remain behind, my friend,” White said, placing his hand upon his friend’s shoulder. “I trust no one else to look after my niece and my daughter. You’ll do it, won’t you?”

Frowning slightly, Roger Bailie agreed.

fourteen

J
ocelyn found the coastline of Virginia largely disappointing. The long, sandy coast of the barrier islands stretched uneventfully until it disappeared into the horizon. Much of the land had been cleared by fire or washed clean by tides, and she saw little of the wild forest she had expected. Inwardly, she rejoiced that this was not the place where they would settle permanently.

Determination lay in the jut of her uncle
’s chin as he marched across the deck and commanded forty of the planters to go ashore. They would seek out the holding party left by Grenville, he explained to the men assembled on the deck, and learn from them about the state of the country. He was curious to learn about relations with the Indians, particularly since Ralph Lane’s men had left soon after an English attack that killed the high chief Pemisapan.

“After that, gentlemen, we will return to the ship and sail on to the intended site of our City of Raleigh. I have written orders from Sir Walter to accomplish our goals in haste.”

The men cheered and a few women wiped the corners of their eyes with handkerchiefs, but Jocelyn kept her eyes glued upon the tall figure of her husband. Thomas had volunteered to go ashore with the other men, and for a moment an irrational fear seized her. What if savages waited even now on Roanoke Island? What if this day should prove her to be a widow without ever knowing what it was to be a wife?

Roanoke Island lay behind the strip of barrier islands, safely tucked away from the eyes of Spanish invaders, but the shallow waters surrounding it were no more than six feet deep. The
Lion
could not venture through the narrow inlet Fernandes pompously referred to as “Port Ferdinando,” so the smaller, more maneuverable pinnace moved into position abreast of the
Lion
to make the journey. Once the ships were joined by a gangplank, White’s valiant men marched resolutely aboard the pinnace, a musket on each shoulder. Thomas Colman alone carried no weapon, and Jocelyn was not sure if she found his conviction against weapons admirable or foolish. Her uncle admired and respected the savages, but even he carried a arquebus in his belt and an musket in his hand.

Once the landing party was aboard the pinnace, the women and remaining passengers crowded the leeward side of the ship and waved farewell as the sheets of the pinnace bellied taut and pulled the ship through the narrow inlet toward Roanoke. Suddenly the
Lion’s
bosun called to the seamen aboard the pinnace: “Captain Fernandes orders that these men not be brought back aboard ship. All are to be left on the island of Roanoke.”

From his place on the bridge, Fernandes
’ dark, hawkish face broke into a confirming smile while Jocelyn’s head spun. Left there! What could Fernandes be thinking? Forgetting her place, Jocelyn whirled and ran toward the captain’s bridge as the men on the pinnace jerked angry fists toward the captain of the
Lion.

“Master Fernandes, you are sorely mistaken!” she yelled up at the captain. She gathered her skirts to ascend to the bridge, and by the time she reached him, the pinnace was nearly out of sight.

“Do not worry, Mistress Colman,” Fernandes said, his eyes toward the pinnace in the west. “I will allow your uncle and mayhap your husband back aboard to supervise the collection of the other passengers. I assure you I am not interested in pirating your supplies and trunks of woolens.”

“But Sir Walter
’s charter specifically commands that our colony be established at Chesapeake!”

His reply seemed rehearsed: “
‘Tis late in the year, and the storm season approaches. ‘Tis risky for us to sail further north.”

“
‘Tis risky for us to remain here!” Jocelyn forced herself to lower her voice, for she knew things the other passengers did not. “My uncle has told me that Ralph Lane massacred an Indian chief before he left. The savages in this area were violated, and may not be friendly to us—”

Fernandes cut her off with a shrug. “Do you doubt the power of English sovereignty?” A stream of bitterness ran through his words. “Surely a handful of English could stand against a forest full of ignorant savages. Grenville
’s fifteen will no doubt be full of boasts.”

She lowered her voice further. “Sir, I will be surprised if Grenville
’s fifteen men still live. You must take us to Chesapeake.”

He looked at her then, and the derision and hatred in his eyes startled her. “Your uncle and people like you,” he said, his voice warped with malice, “have ordered me around long enough. I am the captain of this ship, and I refuse to carry you vainglorious English any further. You will disembark here, you will build here, and the devil take any of you who would rather drown in the sea.”

“You only want more time to chase Spanish treasure!”

He did not deny her accusation, but smiled, his neat row of teeth startlingly white against his dark moustache and beard. “You are too much like your uncle,” he said, moving toward the sanctity of his cabin. “Troublesome and stubborn.”

Jocelyn sputtered in helpless fury as the door to his cabin slammed shut, then she sank onto the wooden deck and raked her fingers through her hair. There was nothing she could do. Now she would have to find the courage to tell Eleanor and the others to gather their things. They would soon be moving to Roanoke Island, the spot her uncle expected to find littered with the bones of fifteen Englishmen.

fifteen

A
whirlwind of emotions stirred John White’s soul as the pinnace drew near Roanoke Island. Except for the horrible days following Lane’s attack on the Indians, Roanoke had been a happy place for him. He knew well the surrounding country; many of the neighboring savages were his friends. His eyes caressed the familiar strip of beach and thick stand of trees, and he wordlessly raised his arm and pointed the sailors toward the best beach for anchoring the boat.

Silence lay upon the island as the small ship approached; the absence of sound had almost a physical density.
The quiet lap of waves against the shore and the quickened breaths of his fellow travelers were muffled by the strangely thickened air. Nothing stirred on land or upon the ship until the bow of the pinnace struck hard in the sand and heavily booted feet jostled against the wooden deck.

Standing at the bow, White hesitated before turning to face the men behind him.
What would he tell them? Fernandes had openly defied his authority as governor by declaring that the colonists should remain on Roanoke Island, and White’s pride urged him to demand the planters be carried on to Chesapeake. But another voice in his head reminded him that Roanoke was
familiar
, it was near Manteo’s home, and much of the work involved in building houses and a fort had already been done.

His daughter
’s face, swollen and tired, flitted across his mind. Eleanor’s time was near, and would it not be better to have the first Virginian child born in a proper house, rather than aboard ship or in a hastily-constructed Chesapeake hut?

Whatever happened, he must not let his people think he had been cowed by that cursed Portuguese.
He composed his face into stern lines and turned to face his men. “Grenville left fifteen men here; we are to find them,” he announced, placing his hand on the arquebus in his belt. “But search no farther than this island. If you come upon any savage, stand with your weapon drawn, but do not fire unless his intentions are undoubtedly hostile.”

The men, sallow-faced and serious, nodded as one.

Summoning his courage, White led the men up the beach and down the trail that led to the remains of “the New Fort in Virginia,” built and named by Lane’s party. The earthworks had been partially razed down by the elements, but the star-shaped wooden fort and the wattle and daub houses outside the walls still stood. Two buildings within the fort, formerly used for storage, had been burned, but the blackened hulls remained.