

E-text prepared by Melissa McDaniel, Robert Tonsing, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images
generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org)



Note: Images of the original pages are available through
      Internet Archive. See
      https://archive.org/details/daughterofvirgin00wall


Transcriber’s note:

      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).





[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