“Fire, fire!” The cry rang out over the settlement.
Scurrying figures hastened from all directions to the storehouse from
whence volumes of flame leaped in frenzy. The wild wind swept the
licking tongues over to the fort, and explosions of gunpowder shook
the ground, scattering the sparks in every direction. In two hours’
time every cabin lay a smouldering mass of spluttering flames and
charred embers. Poor, unfortunate colony! Was the relentless hand
of fate crushing them out with resistless power? Those who make no
effort to take their part in the world’s work she ever pushes to the
wall. Perhaps they were but reaping as they had sown.
“Lose not your courage, my men!” pleaded Chaplain Hunt. “God has not
deserted us. It is but a testing sent to purify our hearts. Go to
work and rebuild your cabins immediately and He will yet smile upon
your efforts.”
What a noble heart lay enshrined in the body of this Ambassador of
God. With nothing left but the clothes he wore, and his dearly loved
books but blackened ashes, he could yet trust his Maker, and await
with loving faith the fulfilment of His promises.
His words of encouragement found no responsive echo in their hearts.
They gave themselves up to despair, and their utmost efforts resulted
only in the digging of holes in the ground and covering them with
pine boughs as a sleeping-place.
A year has passed by, and here they are in the bleak month of January
without food or shelter. Nothing gained and all lost since they set
sail from England.
The food brought over by Newport’s ships, together with two hundred
bushels of corn which he and Captain Smith had gotten from Powhatan,
have all gone to feed the flames. A little meal doled out from the
ship’s store is all they have.