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[Illustration]


THE DAUGHTER OF VIRGINIA DARE

by

MARY VIRGINIA WALL


[Illustration]






New York and Washington
The Neale Publishing Company
1908

Copyright, 1908, by
Mary Virginia Wall



                                 TO
                         MY MOTHER, VIRGINIA
                                 AND
                       MY GRANDMOTHER, ENGLAND




                    THE DAUGHTER OF VIRGINIA DARE




                               PRELUDE


The sunbeams were playing hide and seek with the ripples around
the prows of three small vessels lying at anchor in the harbor of
Portsmouth. Their decks were crowded with the colonists going to
seek a home on the soil of Virginia. On the wharf all was bustle and
confusion. The songs of the sailors loading the vessels with the
goods of the voyagers mingled with the whip and snap of the sails as
they were given to the breeze.

At last the creaking of the capstan as the anchors were hoisted on
board sounded the warning note of departure. Leading the diminutive
fleet was the good ship _Admiral_, having as her master Simon
Ferdinando. Closely in her wake followed a pinnace and a flyboat, and
from the masthead of all three fluttered the English flag. They were
not to leave England, however, until they had stopped at two of her
ports on their way out.

For eight days they tarried at the Isle of Wight, and two more in
the harbor of Plymouth. As they sailed out of this quaint old harbor
the balmy air of May wafted the fragrant farewell of the hawthorn
blossoms even to the water’s edge.

“How hard it is to bid farewell to home and friends and turn my face
to this unknown land,” said Eleanor Dare to herself as she stood on
the deck of the _Admiral_. “There is a strange fear welling up in my
heart as if some unknown shadow were falling upon us.

“But I must not even breathe such a thought to my husband, it would
dampen the hope of home and fortune which is buoying him up. I must
rather cheer and encourage him; I must hide the heart sickness, and
leave our future in the hands of God.”

Fainter and fainter grew the outlines of old England’s shores, until
only the dim bluffs of Cornwall, like a mirage, lay on the horizon.
As Eleanor Dare strained her eyes to catch the last glimpse before
the curve of the earth hid them from view, her husband drew her to
him.

“Dear heart, turn your eyes to the west, to home and happiness. See
how the sun is making a pathway of light for our ship. Is it not a
good omen?”

She smiled up into his face bravely and was rewarded by a look of
love and reverence.

“You know, my husband, that my home is in your heart.”

Skirting southward for seven days the little fleet came into the Bay
of Portugal, where they took on a supply of fresh water for the long
journey to the West Indies. Ferdinando, the master of the _Admiral_,
gave secret orders to the captains of his ship and the pinnace to
set sail at the coming of night. No such commands reached the little
flyboat. Basely deserting her, the Admiral turned his prows to the
southwest.

For two long months the frail ships tossed on the troubled waters of
the Atlantic. Only the sullen swish of the waves and the scream of
the seagull broke in on Eleanor Dare’s reveries.

Fragrant June was waning, when she saw the waving palms and orange
groves of Santa Cruz rising beyond the foam-capped billows. Just
before the ships reached this island of gorgeous bloom from the
lookout at the masthead rang the cry, “Sail ho!” and, ploughing
her way through the choppy sea, there came the courageous little
flyboat. For, undaunted by ignorance of the trackless waste and
by the base desertion of the admiral in command, she had pluckily
followed her consort.

No sooner had they landed than the merry laughter and joyous shouts
of the little children filled the air as they chased the crimson and
gold butterflies sipping honey from the orchids which hung from the
tall fern trees. No cares or longing troubled their light hearts, but
their parents were eager to reach their new home, so the sails were
again spread.

                  *       *       *       *       *

July had numbered twenty-two days when the vessels came in sight of a
long fringe of islands guarded by dangerous reefs. The white foam of
the breakers tossed high in the air and the moan of the surf filled
the children with fear.

Down rattled the anchor of the _Admiral_, and the sails were
close-furled, as the pinnace came alongside to take the colony
through the dangerous entry to Roanoke Island. Safely passing through
the hungry mouth of Trinity harbor, they glided into the quiet waters
of the Occam.

Would the fifteen men left by Sir Richard Greenville come to meet
them? A loud halloo brought back no answering hail.

“We must search for them,” said Governor White. “Perhaps they are
farther inland.”

As the pinnace grounded her nose the Anglican priest stepped on the
land, bearing aloft the Sign of Redemption. Around his feet were
grouped the children, their tiny hands clasped together, and guarded
by a circle of kneeling men and women. Deep and fervent was the
thanksgiving prayer, and clear and sweet came the chant of the amen.

Rising from their knees they eagerly explored the land around them.
A living landscape, vivid and beautiful, lay spread before their
eyes. Great yellow pines like the masts of ships towered above them.
Cedars, the rivals of Lebanon, mingled their branches with the live
oak, tulip, and walnut trees, while closer to mother earth clung the
sassafras and witch hazel. Scuppernong grapes flung their vines,
loaded with ripening fruit, from limb to limb of the copper beeches
and bathed their trailing branches in the briny waters of the Occam.

Dotted all around were the log cabins left by the previous settlers.
Melon vines with luscious fruits festooned the windows and carpeted
the floors, and in their open doors stood the startled deer poised
for flight. The gardens were overgrown in weeds and fences were
broken down. The little children ran hither and thither chasing
the “Lazy Lawrence” as it danced in the sun, and over all hung the
languorous air of July, steeped in the fragrance of blossoming jasmine
and magnolia.

Soon the bright blades of the axes made flashes in the sun, and
down came the pine, filling the air with the perfume of its crushed
needles. Many another cabin was added to the “City of Raleigh.”

Meanwhile, a party headed by Governor White had searched the island
for the missing men. Far in the heart of the forest they came upon
their bleaching skeletons, and they decently interred them.

Eleanor Dare chose the cedar cabin, which Lane had used, as a home
for herself and her husband, and she occupied herself busily in
transforming its interior into a restful abiding-place; in one corner
was a mahogany chest with shining brass handles; over the wide
fireplace hung a bit of landscape of her girlhood’s home; and the
pewter plates upon the dresser reflected the dancing flames leaping
up the chimney. In the center of the room stood a table of English
oak.

One evening the table was spread for the evening meal, and now and
then Eleanor Dare paused at the window to watch the swaying of the
wonderful gray moss draping the mighty live-oaks.

As she bent over the fire stirring the contents of a copper kettle
hanging on the crane, her husband entered and gently chided her for
too much exertion.

“Come rest beside me on the settle, dear heart, and let us talk of
the future. Soon your tender hands will have new duties to perform,”
and sitting side by side they talked together as the twilight shadows
fell.

                  *       *       *       *       *

In the hush of the August morn, just as the mocking-birds chanted
“The Creation,” a tiny babe—a babe with Eleanor’s eyes—nestled in the
hollow of Eleanor Dare’s arm. Her husband bending over her mingled
his kisses with the Magnificat breathing on her lips, and soon came
the women of the colony to inquire after mother and child and offer
their congratulations to the happy father.

Little children, peeping in at the door of the cabin, shyly laid
their offering of red clover and honeysuckle upon the sill. Many were
the questions they asked of the smiling father of the new-born babe.

“Is it a boy or a girl,” asked Ambrose Viccars.

“I’m glad it is a girl,” said tiny Robert Ellis. “There will be
somebody to play with me. Can she talk and eat? How soon will she be
able to play Puss in Corner?”

Seven days had the little babe lain on her mother’s breast, and on
the eighth day she was to be christened. The Sunday sun shed its
gorgeous rays over the simple church, where the priest, clad in
surplice and stole, awaited her coming. With the babe went Manteo of
the Croatans, the faithful friend of the English, for he too was to
receive baptism as Sir Walter Raleigh had commanded.

Hither had come the men of the colony clad in brightly hued doublet
and hose, their wives and sisters wearing gowns with long pointed
stomachers and high standing ruffs. Near the door was Winginia and
his Catawbas, their long scalp-locks decorated with the feathers
of the eagle. Grouped around the white-robed pastor stood Governor
White, Roger Bailey and Joyce Archer, sponsors for Manteo. Behind
them was Ananias Dare holding his little daughter.

Rising from his knees with the consecrated drops still glistening on
his brow, Manteo turned to Dare and said:

“I too am a follower of the God of the English. The totem of His
tribe is tattooed on my brow. Let me hold the little pale face to be
received into the tribe.”

“Joyfully will I give her into your keeping,” replied her father.
“She shall be as your daughter,” and he placed the babe in his arms.

Then came the sonorous voice of the priest:

“Virginia, I baptize thee in the name of the Father and of the Son
and of the Holy Ghost. We receive this child into the congregation of
Christ’s flock, and do sign her with the sign of the cross, in token
that hereafter she shall not be ashamed to own Christ crucified, and
manfully to fight under His banner against sin, the world, and the
devil, and to continue Christ’s faithful soldier and servant unto her
life’s end. Amen.”

Then reverently he gave her back into the Indian’s keeping.

Forth stalked Manteo into the sunlight with the little Virginia held
close in his arms, and went straightway to the bedside of Eleanor
Dare.

“I have brought you the little papoose. The Great Spirit has bound us
together, and dear shall she be to Manteo as the ruddy drops of his
heart.”

                  *       *       *       *       *

But all was not well with the “City of Raleigh.” Food and supplies
which the country did not as yet produce were needed. Some one must
go back to the mother country for them. When it came to selecting a
proper person no one wished to go. One and all they urged Governor
White to go as the one most fitting to represent their needs, to take
the task upon himself. He too was unwilling to leave.

“Men will say that with fair words I have enticed you to this land,
and now in your need desert you and leave you to face the enmity of
the Indians.”

But the pleadings of the colony finally prevailed, and with a heavy
heart he consented to go.

“Keep strict watch and ward while I am gone. I do not like the sullen
look of Winginia and his Catawbas. It is but a few weeks since George
Howe’s mangled body was found some two miles distant. Winginia took
his life in revenge of the cruel treatment of Ralph Lane’s men. If
you abandon this settlement, as we have purposed doing, carve the
name of your destination upon a tree or post. If danger threatens,
place a cross above the name.”

He kissed his daughter, and taking the little Virginia in his arms,
gave the child his blessing.

Standing on the beach with her baby at her breast, Eleanor Dare waved
a last farewell to the father whom she was never to see again.

                  *       *       *       *       *

After a voyage beset with one accident after another, Governor White
arrived in England, only to find himself caught in the maelstrom of
war.

Under Her Sovereign Majesty Elizabeth, England was rising to a
position where she would soon be a formidable rival to the countries
of Europe. Her ships had penetrated to the White Sea of Northern
Russia; the dusky tribes of Guinea traveled many miles through the
tropical forests of the Soudan to sell their ivory and gold to the
trading vessels of England. Antwerp and Bruges merchants settled
in London, thereby transferring much of the trade of India and
the Far East from Flanders to England; and Sir Francis Drake had
circumnavigated the globe.

Not only had commercial enterprise filled the coffers of Elizabeth,
but the untilled recesses of men’s minds were beginning to flower
again.

Sir Philip Sidney had enriched the world with his Arcadia, and
immortal sonnets. Edmund Spenser was fighting out the battle between
good and evil in his Faerie Queen, and Francis Bacon was delving into
the secrets of nature.

Behind the fame of commercial enterprise and the glory of the
Literary Renaissance loomed the struggle with Philip of Spain. He
was burning with the desire to crush the power of Elizabeth and to
revenge the death of Mary Queen of Scots. Already the Spanish Armada
was hovering off the coasts of England.

Sir Walter Raleigh tried ineffectually to obtain ships for Governor
White, and even succeeded in fitting out two which were later seized
and impressed into service. Every bark and pinnace was needed to
keep Philip and the Inquisition out of England. No one had time to
remember the colonists shut away in Virginia, for all were watching
Sir Francis Drake and Sir Walter Raleigh scuttle the Spanish
galleons.

About a month after Governor White sailed away a wasting sickness
broke out among the colonists in Virginia. The fields lay untilled
and the corn and vegetables withered up under the hot breath of the
sun. No drop of water fell to cool the parched earth; daily the store
of food dwindled away.

Gaunt starvation stalked through the island, and in his footsteps
crept Winginia and his Catawbas.

At length Eleanor Dare’s husband fell ill and lay dying.

“O dear heart, my soul is filled with anguish when I think of leaving
you and the child,” he moaned. “Who will protect my defenceless ones?
Look again from the window. Is there no sail in sight? Nothing? And
my strength is ebbing fast. Put the little one beside me that I may
kiss her.”

“My husband, let us put our trust in God, and help me say, ‘Though He
slay me, yet I will trust him.’ It will be but a little while before
Virginia and I will join you. There is no ending to our love. Can you
hear me, dear one?” Then came a cry:

“O my Father, the light has gone out of his eyes and his lips are
dumb!”

Sinking beside his body, she swooned away, while the wonder-filled
eyes of baby Virginia gazed long and gravely on the pallid face of
her dead father.

Regaining consciousness, Eleanor feebly raised herself and tried to
perform the last duties for her dead. Through the long night that
followed she watched by his side. Lovingly and gently she talked to
him of the happy past, caressed his cold face, and smoothed back the
hair lying upon his brow.

“No priest is left, dear, to bless you as you go on your long
journey, but you shall not lack. Faithful in life, I shall be
faithful in death. The pitying Father will give me strength for this
last duty. Soon we shall be together again, even as we now are in
spirit.”

On the following day the body of her husband was laid to rest and
Eleanor, with unearthly calm, read the burial service.

                  *       *       *       *       *

Day after day passed and few were left to answer the roll call.
Only one hope lay between the colonists and starvation. Perhaps the
Croatans, their faithful friends, had some corn left and would share
it with them. Manteo would go and ask for food.

As the sickly sun sank to rest on the fourth day after Manteo’s
departure, the colonists crawled to the beach and turned their faces
to the south to watch for his coming.

Presently his canoe rounded a bend in the stream. Fear gripped their
hearts as they watched his bowed form. Every now and then his paddle
churned the water into foam, and then relapsed into idleness. As his
canoe touched the beach they saw that it was empty.

Stepping on the shore he paused before them. Then fell an awful
silence as they looked upon his face. In that face Christianity and
primeval passion were waging deadly warfare. The zigzag lightning
shot from his eyes, and his voice was as the muttering thunder dying
away in the distance. Finally he spoke:

    “Listen, O brother of the Rising Sun,
    To the woeful tale of Manteo.
    Down the sparkling waters of the Occam
    Leaped the bounding canoe;
    All night the paddles made music
    On this side and on that;
    Joy sang in the breast of the ‘real man’
    As he thought of the corn for the pale face.
    The smiling island of Croatan
    Beckoned him onward and onward;
    Nearer and nearer came Manteo
    To the home of his tribe and his father.
    Why