New Year’s Day, 1607. The god of winter, holding high carnival in
the vaulted heavens, snatched the icy stalactites from his frozen
caverns, and crushing them in his iron grasp, hurled them down upon
the shivering voyagers vainly trying to make headway against the
storm. His bellowing laugh swayed the writhing trees until they
clashed their branches together in unbridled fury. Countless millions
of snowy flowers whirled and rioted in the icy blast.
Huddled in the cabins of the _Susan Constant_, the _God-speed_, and
the _Discovery_ were one hundred and eight cavaliers of fortune.
Not yet out of sight of the spires of home, discontent was already
lifting its hydra-head in search of food.
“What fools we were ever to have listened to that conniving Smith,”
murmured Kendall, addressing Martin standing near. “He is already
hatching plots for making himself King of Virginia. Watch him seated
yonder studying the map of Amadas and Barlow. See how he is knitting
his brows and gazing far in the distance as he sees in imagination
his kingdom in his power. I tell you, he is dangerous. Yesterday I
saw him talking with that sanctimonious parson Hunt. Doubtless his
reverence does not stand very well with the Higher Powers, or there
would be an abatement of this cursed storm.”
George Maria Wingfield, strolling from one port-hole to another,
dreaming of the vast wealth which he intended to store up in this new
land, overheard the speech of Kendall and stored it up for future
use. He determined, as soon as they were well out to sea, that he
would stir up the men against Smith and see what would come of it.
His malignant nature could not bear to hear of the success of another.
Up on the deck Bartholomew Gosnold paced back and forth, unheeding
the hail driving against his weather-beaten countenance. As he swept
the vast rolling billows with his glass, he muttered to himself,
“Why couldn’t they heed my advice, and pursue the track which I have
discovered, instead of following the old route of Columbus?”
In the cabin of the _Susan Constant_ sat John Laydon, a young
carpenter, with his head buried in his hands. In mind he was back
again in a rustic cottage in Devonshire. Roses clambered over it in
summer and the hawthorn blossoms whitened the hedges enclosing it—a
casket holding the jewel of his heart’s desire, pretty Anne Burras.
The dainty maiden has kept his honest heart in a state of constant
turmoil with her coquettish wiles. He was never sure of her, and even
now knew not whether she had returned his love.
Suddenly he clinched his brawny hands, and a deep scowl ploughed his
forehead as he thought of that caitiff Wingfield, whose pretentious
home lay only a short distance from Anne’s. Many a time John had
caught sight of him riding down the lane and stopping at the gate of
the cottage to whisper flattering words into the shell-like ears of
Anne, and his honeyed words had dazzled her and perhaps touched her
heart.
When the day’s work was done, John had gone to see her, and as they
sat upon the porch with the moonlight filtering through the meshes of
the vines he had remonstrated with her.
“Anne, you know that he is a gentleman, and will mate with one his
equal in station. He is only trifling with you to pass the time.
Better listen to an honest man’s love, who has your dearest interest
at heart.”
Anne tossed her head, and with the wisdom inherited from Eve avoided
giving a decided answer.
Perhaps if John returned with wealth from that distant land, she
might listen to his suit—mind you, perhaps.
“You cannot be a fine lady, Anne. It was an unfortunate day when
you took service with Mistress Forrest, for although she has been a
kind mistress, your head has been turned by the compliments of the
gentlemen who resort to her house. You dream of fine clothes, a coach
to ride in, and a maid to wait upon you; but I tell you, only grief
will come of it.”
But no pleadings of her suitor had had any effect on the pretty
maiden, and, sore at heart, he had left her to seek his fortune in
the New World. What was his surprise to see Wingfield among the
passengers when he went on board the ship.
“Ha, it is you, Laydon. Pity you could not bring the pretty Anne
along,” said Wingfield with a sneer.
With a fierce scowl, Laydon flung a hot reply.
“Leave her alone. Honest men do not trifle with simple maidens, and
if you ever do her a wrong, I will throttle you even if I hang for
it!”
Wingfield retorted with a contemptuous laugh.
Finally the storm lulled, and the voyagers, pursuing the old track
over which Eleanor Dare had sailed, came to the West Indies. There
they landed in the bright and fickle month of April, to rest their
sea-worn bodies and soothe their distraught tempers.
Down in the hold of the _God-speed_ lay a young prisoner manacled
in irons. Curly brown hair waved over his forehead, long mustachios
adorned his upper lip and eyes full of intelligence, together with
firmly closed lips, in the corners of which lurked a smile, marked
him as a man of strong character.
He had been miraculously preserved by Providence to be the connecting
link between the lost “City of Raleigh” and the future settlement at
Jamestown.
A coat of mail covered his body, fitting down snugly over his
Turk-like trousers which were met by huge French boots, with wide
overturning tops, settling in deep wrinkles around his ankles.
No premonition of the part he was to play in the coming drama of
Virginia came to him as he lay and listened to the men going
backward and forward to the tropical island.
Presently John Laydon came, bringing the prisoner a luscious orange
and soft yellow banana gathered on shore. Sitting down beside Captain
Smith, he peeled the tempting fruit and offered it to him.
“Thank you, Laydon; it was very kind of you to remember me. Now that
we are alone, I would like to ask you a question. What is the trouble
between you and Wingfield?”
His sympathetic tones unlocked the lips of the young carpenter. He
poured out the recital of his wrongs at the hand of Wingfield.
“Cheer up, Laydon; things may turn out better than you dream; but
keep a watchful eye upon Wingfield. If I read him truly, he is not
above doing you a mischief out of pure malice. It is owing to his
efforts that I am a prisoner. He and Kendall have filled the men’s
minds with suspicion and unkindness toward me.”
About the end of April the colonists started northward along the
coast of Florida, where the Spaniard was disputing the territory with
the Indian, and steered for the entry to Roanoke Island. But they
had not reckoned on the fidelity with which April pays her debts
to May, particularly on the sea. A fierce storm, accompanied by its
satellites of wind and rain, came rushing out of the Gulf of Mexico,
and sent the ships speeding past the “City of Raleigh” like helpless
birds scudding before the blast, into the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay.
There two capes stretched out long protecting arms to break the fury
of the sea, and give the frightened voyagers time to collect their
scattered senses.
“Let us call the capes Charles and Henry, after our sovereign’s
sons,” said Percy. “May they prove as protecting to their subjects
when they come to the throne. Yonder is a point of land, too, smiling
friendly welcome. Let us spend the night there.”
This proposition met with ready assent, and very soon their
camp-fires were burning brightly, the evening meal prepared and
speedily devoured by the hungry colonists, who had eaten little since
the storm arose.
“What a comfort it is to tread on dry land once more,” said Gosnold,
between mouthfuls of food.
“Aye, so it is,” replied Martin. “What says this worthy company to
calling this spot Point Comfort? Let’s put it to vote. All in favor
say ‘aye,’ those opposed ‘no.’ The ‘ayes’ have it.”
“Master Newport, read the sealed instructions for the government of
the colony which were entrusted to you. Let’s hear the conditions
under which we are now to live,” said George Percy.
Newport opened the sealed packet and proceeded to read the laws
of the London Company for the new settlement. He was constantly
interrupted by exclamations of astonishment.
“Captain Smith appointed a member of the council? Good! now he will
have to be released from imprisonment,” said Percy.
“He ought not to be allowed to have a hand in the affairs of the
colony; he is too scheming,” interjected Kendall.
“No house and land for each man, and all to work for the common
good!” exclaimed Laydon in a disappointed tone. The hope of winning
Anne seemed farther away than ever.
The newly appointed council conferred among themselves, rejected
Smith as a member, and appointed Wingfield president.