Chapter 2

How naturally the scene rises before us. The young mother, her heart thrilling with the mysteries of love and life, and elated with the joy of motherhood, alert to the dangers of the new land, and suspicious of the strange people among whom her blue-eyed treasure must live, yet yielding cheerfully to the busy smiling English women who had crossed the ocean with her, and now with womanly intuition ministered to her needs. We can picture them making tidy the confused household, and stilling the cries of the infant as they prepare her to receive the sign of the cross. We can almost picture them deliberating over a choice from among their limited supply of vessels of one worthy to become the receptacle of the water to be used. It was on the Sabbath-Day, and the dedication to God of the wee creature who had so newly come among them was a fitting observance of the day. The solemn words of the ritual of the English Church, never before spoken in that primeval forest, must have awakened mysterious vibrations which linger yet and give to Roanoak Island that atmosphere of perpetual repose which envelops it. There must have come to those who witnessed the scene that holy Sabbath-Day, just as it comes now to those who view it from afar, a deep realization that the God of the English and the Great Spirit of the Indian are one and the same, then, now, and evermore. The One God to whom in baptism Virginia Dare was brought and in whose name Manteo the savage was signed with the cross and given the promise of salvation, and who remains the God of the millions of English-speaking people who now worship in the land which was then and there dedicated to the service of Christ.

The mist of oblivion fades before the light of Truth, and Virginia Dare will be a shining jewel in the Chaplet of Memories which some day Christian America will place upon the tomb of the Past.

PREFACE

A familiar knowledge of the history of one's own country increases patriotism and stimulates valor. For this reason the study of written records called history should be supplemented by research into myths, folk-lore, and legends. While the value of history lies ever in its truth, it must yet bear the ideals of the people who participated in the events narrated. Tradition was the mother of all history, and was necessarily robed in the superstitions of the era of which the tradition tells. History writers, jealously guarding the truth, have striven to banish all traditions which seemed colored by fancy or even freighted with a moral lesson. These exiled traditions, bearing the seed-germs of truth, cannot die, but, like wandering spirits, float down the centuries enveloped in the mists of superstition, until finally, embodied in romance or song, they assume a permanent form called legend and become the heritage of a people. Legends are the satellites of history because they have their origin in the same events, and the history of all countries is interspersed with them.

The legend of The White Doe is probably the oldest and possibly the least known of all the legends which relate to the history of the United States. It is a genuine American legend, and the facts from which it had its origin form the first chapter in the history of English colonization in North America. Those facts are found in the repeated attempts of Sir Walter Raleigh to establish an English colony in the New World. The Spaniards were in Florida, the French were in Nova Scotia, but England had gained no possessions in North America when Raleigh began his efforts. This fact assumes more importance when we remember that civilization has made the greatest progress in those parts of America where the English became dominant. In South America, dominated by the Spaniards, civilization has made no strides, while in the United States a new nation has arisen whose ultimate destiny none may limit or foretell. As the gates of a new century open and disclose almost unlimited fields for human progress, this new nation, with an enthusiasm and courage born of success, has taken her place to lead in the eternal forward search for better opportunities and higher life for the human race. All this grand destiny, all this ripening opportunity, like a harvest from a few seeds, is traced back, event after event, to the early struggles of those who braved the dangers of sea and forest in the attempts to colonize America. Those pioneer efforts, so generously promoted by Sir Walter Raleigh, though only partially successful, were the stepping-stones which later led to the better-known settlement of Jamestown, in Virginia. A brief _résumé_ of those stepping-stones will make them familiar to all.

In 1584 Queen Elizabeth made a grant to Raleigh for all the land from Nova Scotia to Florida, which was called Virginia, in honor of the Virgin Queen, as Elizabeth was called.

The first expedition sent out under this grant was in the same year, 1584, and was entirely at the expense of Sir Walter Raleigh, as were all of the expeditions up to 1590. It was solely for the purpose of exploration, and was under the command of Amadas and Barlowe, who, after coasting along the Atlantic shores, entered Pamlico Sound and landed on the island of Roanoak, on the coast of the present State of North Carolina. They made the acquaintance of the tribes there resident, explored the country on the coast, and returned to England to bear enthusiastic testimony to the delightsomeness of the country. They took with them back to England two native Indian chiefs, Manteo and Wanchese, who returned to America on a subsequent voyage, as the official records tell.

The following year, 1585, a colony of one hundred and seven men landed on this same island of Roanoak. They came organized to occupy and possess the land granted to Raleigh, and to secure such benefits therefrom as in those days were deemed valuable. They remained one year, exploring the country and trying to establish relations with the Indians. They built houses, planted crops, and looked forward to the arrival of more men and food, which had been promised from England. But no ships came, provisions grew scarce, and before the crops they had planted were mature enough to harvest, Sir Francis Drake, the great sea-rover of that day, appeared off the island with a fleet of vessels.

Knowing the dangers of that coast, he did not attempt to come to the island, but sent in to learn of the welfare of the colony, and offered to supply their immediate needs. They asked, among other things, that their sick and weak men be taken back to England, that food for those who remained be given them, and for a vessel in which they might return home if they so desired, all of which Drake granted. But a dreadful storm arose, which lasted three days and drove the promised vessel out to sea, with a goodly number of the colonists and the promised food on board. Seeing thus a part of their number and their food gone, the remaining colonists became homesick and panic-stricken and begged Drake to take them _all_ to England, which he did. Thus ended the first attempt at English colonization in North America.

Fifteen days after their departure Sir Richard Grenville arrived with three vessels, bringing the promised supplies, but found the men gone. Wishing to hold the country for England until another colony could arrive, he left fifteen men on the island with provisions for two years, and he returned to England. Those fifteen men are supposed to have been murdered and captured by the Indians, as the next colony found only some bones, a ruined fort, and empty houses in which deer were feeding.

The leaving of those fifteen men is considered the second attempt at colonization, and is recognized as a failure. But all success is built only by persistent repetition of effort, and so, in 1587, another colony came from England to this same island of Roanoak. Among those colonists were seventeen women and nine children, thus proving the intention of making permanent homes, and the hope of establishing family ties which should for all time unite England and North America. A few days after the arrival of this colony at Roanoak, Virginia Dare was born,--she being the first child born of English parents on the soil of North America,--and because she was the first child born in Virginia she was called Virginia. Her mother, Eleanor Dare, was the daughter of John White, the governor of the colony, and the wife of one of the assistant governors.

The Sunday following her birth she was baptized, this being another fact of official record.

By Sir Walter Raleigh's command the rite of baptism had been administered, a few days earlier, to Manteo, an Indian chief, who had visited England with a returning expedition, as previously mentioned. This baptism of the adult Indian and of the white infant were the first Christian sacraments administered in North America, and are worthy of commemoration.

The colonists soon found that to make possible and permanent their home in a new land many things were needed more than they had provided. So at their urgent request their leader, Governor White, grandfather of Virginia Dare, consented to return to England to secure the needed supplies, with which he was to return to them the following year. When White reached England he found war going on with Spain, and England threatened with an invasion by the famous Spanish Armada. His queen needed and demanded his services, and not until 1590--three years later--did he succeed in returning to America. When at last he came the colonists had disappeared, and the only clue to their fate was the word "Croatoan," which he found carved on a tree; it having been agreed between them that if they changed their place of abode in his absence they would carve on a tree the name of the place to which they had gone.

The arrival of those colonists, the birth and baptism of Virginia Dare, the return of White to England, the disappearance of the colony, and the finding of the word Croatoan, these facts form the record of that colony, the disappearance of which is a mystery which history has not solved.

But tradition illumines many periods of the past which history leaves in darkness, and tradition tells how this colony found among friendly Indians a refuge from the dangers of Roanoak Island, and how this infant grew into fair maidenhood, and was changed by the sorcery of a rejected lover into _a white doe_, which roamed the lonely island and bore a charmed life, and how finally true love triumphed over magic and restored her to human form,--only to result in the death of the maiden from a silver arrow shot by a cruel chieftain.

This tradition of a white doe and a silver arrow has survived through three centuries, and not only lingers where the events occurred, but some portions of it are found wherever in our land forests abound and deer abide. From Maine to Florida lumbermen are everywhere familiar with an old superstition that to see a white doe is an evil omen. In some localities lumbermen will quit work if a white deer is seen. That such a creature as a white deer really exists is demonstrated by their capture and exhibition in menageries, and to-day the rude hunters of the Alleghany Mountains believe that only a silver arrow will kill a white deer.

The disappearance of this colony has been truly called "the tragedy of American colonization," and around it has hung a pathetic interest which ever leads to renewed investigation, in the hope of solving the mystery. From recent search into the subject by students of history a chain of evidence has been woven from which it has come to be believed that the lost colony, hopeless of succor from England, and deprived of all other human associations, became a part of a tribe of friendly Croatoan Indians, shared their wanderings, and intermarried with them, and that their descendants are to be found to-day among the Croatoan Indians of Robeson County, North Carolina.

(Those who desire to investigate this supposed solution of the mystery can easily secure the facts and the conclusions formed by those who have made a careful study of the subject.)

Of course, it can never be known _certainly_ whether Virginia Dare was or was not of that number, but the full tradition of her life among the Indians is embodied in the legend of The White Doe.

Much has been written about the Indian princess Pocahontas, and much sentiment has clustered around her association with the Jamestown colony, while few have given thought to the young English girl whose birth, baptism, and mysterious disappearance link her forever with the earlier tragedies of the same era of history. It seems a strange coincidence that the Indian maiden Pocahontas, friend and companion of the _White_ Man, having adopted _his_ people as her own, should sleep in death on English soil, while the English maiden, Virginia Dare, friend and companion of the _Red_ Man, having adopted his people as _her_ own, should sleep in death on American soil,--the two maidens thus exchanging nationality, and linking in life and in death the two countries whose destinies seem most naturally to intermingle.

The scattered fragments of this legend have been carefully collected and woven into symmetry for preservation. Notes from authentic sources have been appended for the benefit of searchers into the historical basis of the poem, which is offered to the public with the hope that it may increase interest in the early history of our home land and strengthen the tie which binds England and the United States.

SALLIE SOUTHALL COTTEN.

CONTENTS

PAGE

FORGOTTEN FACTS AND FANCIES OF AMERICAN HISTORY i

PREFACE 5

PROLOGUE 19

THE SEEDS OF TRUTH 23

THE LEGEND OF THE WHITE DOE

I.--THE REFUGEES 31

II.--THE PALE-FACE MAIDEN 42

III.--SAVAGE SORCERY 46

IV.--THE COUNTER-CHARM 55

V.--THE HUNT 63

VI.--THE SILVER ARROW 72

APPENDIX 81

ILLUSTRATIONS

_1 "While within its bright'ning dimness, With the misty halo 'round her, Stood a beautiful white maiden"_ FRONTISPIECE

_2 A Scuppernong Vineyard, Roanoak Island_ _x_

_3 Old "Mother" Scuppernong Vine_ _xii_

_4 Among the Scuppernongs.--A Modern Vineyard_ _xiv_

_5 A "Virginia Dare" Vineyard_ _xvi_

_6 The Arrival of the Englishmen in Virginia_ _23_

_7 "The Fierce, Brawny Red Man is King of the Wold"_ _24_

_8 The Land-of-Wind-and-Water_ _32_

_9 Man-te-o, a Chiefe Lorde of Roanoak_ _34_

_10 "Then a New Canoe he fashioned"_ _52_

_11 The Magician of Po-mou-ik_ _58_

Frontispiece from an original drawing by May Louise Barrett.

Maps and remaining illustrations reproduced from Theodore de Bry's edition of "The True Pictures and Fashions of the People in that Parte of America now called Virginia," 1590.

PROLOGUE

In the tomb of vanished ages sleep th' ungarnered truths of Time, Where the pall of silence covers deeds of honor and of crime; Deeds of sacrifice and danger, which the careless earth forgets, There, in ever-deep'ning shadows, lie embalmed in mute regrets. Would-be-gleaners of the Present vainly grope amid this gloom; Flowers of Truth to be immortal must be gathered while they bloom, Else they pass into the Silence, man's neglect their only blight, And the Gleaner of the Ages stores them far from human sight. Yet a perfume, sweet and subtle, lingers where each flower grew, Rising from the shattered petals, bathed and freshened by the dew; And this perfume, in the twilight, forms a mist beneath the skies, Out of which, like airy phantoms, legends and traditions rise; For the Seeds of Truth are buried in a legend's inmost heart, To transplant them in the sunlight justifies the poet's art.

THE SEEDS OF TRUTH

ROANOAK, 1587

Shimmering waters, aweary of tossing, Hopeful of rest, ripple on to the shore; Dimpling with light, as they waver and quiver, Echoing faintly the ocean's wild roar. Locked in the arms of the tremulous waters Nestles an island, with beauty abloom, Where the warm kiss of an amorous summer Fills all the air with a languid perfume. Windward, the roar of the turbulent breakers Warns of the dangers of rock and of reef; Burdened with mem'ries of sorrowful shipwreck, They break on the sands in torrents of grief. Leeward, the forest, grown giant in greenness, Shelters a land where a fervid sun shines; Wild with the beauty of riotous nature, Thick with the tangles of fruit-laden vines.[A] From fragrant clusters, grown purple with ripeness, Rare, spicy odors float out to the sea,[B] Where the gray gulls flit with restless endeavor, Skimming the waves in their frolicsome glee.

Out from the shore stalks the stately white heron, Seeking his food from the deep without fear, Gracefully waving wide wings as he rises When the canoe of the Indian draws near. Through reedy brake and the tangled sea-grasses Wander the stag and the timid-eyed doe[C] Down to the water's edge, watchful and wary For arrows that fly from the red hunter's bow. Fearless Red Hunter! his birthright the forest, Lithe as the antelope, joyous and free. Trusting his bow for his food and his freedom, Wresting a tribute from forest and sea, No chilling forecast of doom in the future Daunts his brave spirit, by freedom made bold. Far o'er the wildwood he roams at his pleasure, The fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold.

* * * * *

Lo! in the offing the white sails are gleaming, Ships from afar to the land drawing nigh; Laden with men, strong and brave to meet danger, Stalwart of form, fair of skin, blue of eye. Boldly they land where the white man is alien; Women are with them, with hearts true and brave; Sadly they stand where their countrymen perished,[D] Seeking a home where _they_ found but a grave.

Friendly red hunters greet them with kindness, Tell the sad tale how their countrymen died,[E] Beg for a token of friendship and safety,[F] Promise in love and in peace to abide. Manteo's heart glows with friendly remembrance, He greets them as brothers and offers good cheer; No thrill of welcome is felt by Wanchese,[G] His heart is bitter with malice and fear. Envying men his superiors in wisdom, Fearing a race his superiors in skill; Sullen and silent he watches the strangers, Whom from the first he determines to kill.

Then the sign of the Cross, on the brow of the Indian,[H] Seals to the savage the promise of life; Sweet symbol of sacrifice, emblem of duty, Standard of Peace, though borne amidst strife: Draped with the sombre, stained banner of Conquest, Dark with the guilt of man's murder and greed, Yet bright with God's message of love and forgiveness Unto a universe welded to creed.

Gently the morning breeze tosses the tree-tops, Low ebbs the tide on the outlying sand; When a tiny white babe opens eyes to the sunlight,[I] Heaven's sweet pledge for the weal of the land. Babe of the Wilderness! tenderly cherished! Signed with the Cross on the next Sabbath Day; Brave English Mother! through danger and sorrow, For a nation of Christians thou leadest the way.

Back to the home-land, across the deep water, Goes the wise leader, their needs to abate;[J] Leaving with sorrow the babe and its mother In a strange land as a hostage to Fate. Many long months pass in busy home-making, Sweet English customs prevail on the isle; Anxious eyes watch for the ship in the offing, Saddened hearts droop, but the lips bravely smile.

Gone are the sweet dreamy days of the summer, In from the ocean the winter winds shriek; Dangers encompass and enemies threaten, Mother and child other refuge must seek. Mother and child, as in Bethlehem story, Flee from the hate of their blood-thirsty foes; Hopeless of help from their own land and people, They seek friendly tribes to find rest from their woes.

To the fair borders of Croatoan Island, Over the night-covered waters they flee; Seeking for safety with Manteo's people, Leaving the word "Croatoan" on a tree.[K] Name of the refuge in which they sought shelter, Only the name of a tribe, nothing more;[L] Sign whereby those who would seek them might follow To their new home on the Croatoan's shore.

Why did they leave the rude fort they had builded? Why did they seek far away a new home? O innocent babe! Roanoak's lost nestling! How shall we learn where thy footsteps did roam? 'Mid the rude tribes of the primeval forest, Bearing the signet of Christ on thy brow, Wert thou the teacher and guide of the savage? Who, of thy mission, can aught tell us now? Through the dim ages comes only the perfume, Left where the flowers of Truth fell to earth; With ne'er a gleaner to treasure the blossoms, Save the sweet petals of baptism and birth. Vainly we seek on Time's shore for thy footprints, Hid in a mist of pathos is thy fate; Yet of a life under savage enchantment Quaint Indian legends do strangely relate.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote A: See Appendix, Note _a_.]

[Footnote B: See Appendix, Note _b_.]

[Footnote C: See Appendix, Note _c_.]

[Footnote D: See Appendix, Note _d_.]

[Footnote E: See Appendix, Note _e_.]

[Footnote F: See Appendix, Note _e_.]

[Footnote G: Pronounced Wan-chess-e.]

[Footnote H: See Appendix, Note _f_.]

[Footnote I: See Appendix, Note _g_.]

[Footnote J: See Appendix, Note _h_.]

[Footnote K: See Appendix, Note _k_.]

[Footnote L: See Appendix, Note _k_.]

THE LEGEND OF THE WHITE DOE

I

THE REFUGEES

In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water, Loud the sea bemoaned its sameness; Dashing shoreward with impatience To explore the landward mysteries. On the sand the waves spread boldly, Vainly striving to reach higher; Then abashed by vain ambition, Glided to their ordained duty. There the pine-tree, tall and stately, Whispered low the ocean's murmur; Strove to soothe the restless waters With its lullaby of sighing. There the tall and dank sea-grasses, From the storm-tide gathered secrets Of the caverns filled with treasures, Milky pearls and tinted coral, Stores of amber and of jacinth, In the caves festooned with sea-weed, Where the Sea-King held his revels And the Naiads danced in beauty. In this Land-of-Wind-and-Water, Dowered with the sunshine's splendor, Juicy grapes grew in profusion, Draping all the trees with greenness, And the maize grew hard and yellow, With the sunshine in its kernels. Through the forest roamed the black bear, And the red deer boldly herded; Through the air flew birds of flavor, And the sea was full of fishes, Till the Red Man knew no hunger, And his wigwam hung with trophies.