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Technical and BJblio«r«phic Notn / Notts tKhniques et bibhugraphiques

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CopTriehl 190., bv H»

"He was one of a lean body and visage as if
h.s eager soul, biting for anger at the cloj "of Ms
body, desired to fret a passage through it."

Thomas Fuller

Foreword

No epoch in American history is more essentially
romantic than that in which, for a few years, less
than one hundred colonists from England lived on
the island of Roanoke, off the coast of old Virginia
Nevertheless, although the history of our continent!
from the landing of Columbus lo the end of the Span-
ish-American war, has been exhaustively exploited
in fiction, the pages dated 1587-1598 seem to have
been left unturned. Yet the life of the Roanoke
colony contained not only adventure, hazard, and
privation in a far greater degree than the maturer
settlements of later years, but also an underlying
emblematical element, and in its end an insoluble
nddle. In being thus both mystical and mysterious.
it paramountly inspires romance.

The mystery has filled many pages of history, but
always as an enigma without solution. The fate of
the colony is utterly unknown, historians of necessity
relegating it to the limbo of oblivion.

Bancroft, for one, concludes his account of the
colonization thus:

The conjecture has been hazarded [bv Law.son and others]
that the deserted colony, neglecte<l bv their own countrymen
were hospitably adopted into the tribe of Hatteras Indians and
became amalp.mated with the sons of the forest. This was the
tradition of tlio natives at a later dav. and was thought to be con-
firmed by the (ihy.sical character of the tribe in which tlie Eng-
lish and the Indian race seemed to have been blended. Raleigh
• V

Foreword

V-Tginia, he yet se:^, a W, own I ''f""^" "f colonizing

rseo,x;ie°.'''''''"^'-"-p-

suffered at the hal*:-:; ht^ .-'^y/ ''^f En^««h
beje^e has not ye'r;^^^,^'" ^ "'' "'^'^^ '

rigidly suppress^ ?T ""'^ customs" also are
u-se i-era^of the colon.S^™i^ i°J'j, 'll''"^'^' ^°

p~d, .ut the co„c;;.r:;ct^.^rrst;

W. F. P.

heir tx-
onizinjr
, at five
n vain :
fate or

s that
iglish
le en-
plain
ich 1

;ader

els—
the

con-
are

1, to

iieen
my

Soob 1

John Vytal

A Tale of the Lost Colony

CHAPTER I

"... framed of Hner mould man common men."

—Marlowe, in The yew of Malta.

It is not to yesterday that we would take you now,
but to a day before innumerable yesterdays, across
the dead sea of Time to a haven mutable yet immor-
tal. For the Elizabethan era is essentially of the
quick, although its dead have lain entombed for cen-
turies. The world of that renascent period, alight
with the spontaneous fire of intellectual and passion-
ate life, shines through the space of ages as though
then, for the first time, it had been cast off from a
pregnant sun.

Overcoming the remoteness of the epoch by an ap-
preciation of this vivid reahty, we pause at the out-
set near the great south gate of London Bridge as
it stood three centuries ago.

On a certain April afternoon the massive stones
and harsh outlines served to heighten by con-
trast the effect of lithe grace and nonchalance ap-
parent in the figure of a young man, who, leaning
lightly against the barbacan, presented a memorable
3

John Vytal

picture of Idleness and ease. Yet a fleeting expres-
sion m the youthful face belied the indolence of atti-
lude.^^ tor in more ways than one " Kind Kyt Mar-
lowe resembled the spring-tide, whose tokens of
approach he intuitively recognized. His eyes, usu-
ally sof and slumberous with the light of dreams

win u^''"" •"''""'' ''""''''"' '■'*«' black diamond.s.'
vvitn all his careless incontinence, he posse.-sed a
latent power, a deep, indeterminable force, jiortend-
ing broad hot days and nights of storm.

His face, mobile dark and passionate, showed an
almost alarming inten.sity. His brow, lofty but not
massive, was surmounted by silken hair so black
as to appear almost i.urple in the sunlight. He wore
no beard, a small mustache adding to the refinement
of his features save for the fulness of his lips, which
t could not hide. Taken as a whole, his face was
the face of a man who had no common destiny • of a
man who w^uld drain the cup and leave no dregs, be
the draught 1. e-ehxir or poison; of a man, in ihort
who might a 1 but transcend his humanity by the
fulness of life within him, or be suffocated and
overwhelmed by the very superabundance of that
1a w ' u ,""■•: ■"'°™° seeming to be born with
a double share of vitality, a portion far greater than
was meant for man ; and when this vitality, matur-
ing, begins its re-creation, threatening all feebler
torms with a new revolutionary condition, then the
error is apparently discovered and the entire share
of life recalled.

Christopher Marlowe was one of these men but
as he leaned against the Southwark Gate, that after-
noon in early life, looking up the High Street through
he gathering du.sk, his eyes showed little more than
the cheeriul glow of a wood-fire, the mere hint of an
unrcstrainable flame underlying their expression
4

■f,

A Tale of the Lost Colony

Soon, however, the poet's reverie was broken. The
afternoon's bear-baiting being over, and Southwark's
amphitheatre empty of its throngs, a number of the
earliest to leave were now upon the High Street,
known then as Long Southwark. Seeing them ap-
proaching him on their way to London, Marlowe
turned and walked in the same direction.

At the sign of " The Three '^Ubles " books and
broadsides were for sale. It was this small, an-
tiquated den on London Bridge that the author
sought with the unconscious step of one who fol-
lows a familiar way.

He had but just entered the low-studded, gloomy
shop, and greeted Paul Merfin, its owner, when the
scabbard of a sword clanked on the threshold, and a
man of great stature, accoutred as a soldier, dark-
ened the doorway. With no prelude of salutation,
the new-comer demanded of Merfin, in a voice of anx-
iety, "Tell me, hast seen—?" Then for the first
time he became aware of Marlowe's presence, and,
lowering his heavy tones to a whisper, finished his
query in the bookseller's ear.

" Nay, " was Merfin 's answer, " I have seen nothing
of him."

The soldier's face grew yet more uneasy. "Ill
fortune!" he exclaimed; "it is always so," and he
would have left the shop had not Marlowe detained
him.

"Stay," said the poet, "I could not but hear your
question, for your whisper, sir, being no gentler than
a March wind, nips the ear whether we will or no.
So you, I take it, are that giant, Hugh Rouse, who
follows the Wolf. Of you twain I have heard much,
and wondered if the tales from the South were true
that told of so great a courage. I have seen the man,
show me now the master."

John Vytal

"Would, sir, that I could, but I know not where
the master is. And who. may I ask, are you, that
show so deep an interest?"

" Not one to be feared," returned Marlowe, smiling ;
"an idle poet who has sung of braver men than his
eyes have yet beheld, and would see a man still braver
than the song — Ky t Marlowe, at your service, good
ray Rouse," and so saying, the poet, with a hand
through the big soldier's arm, led the way from the
shop out to the High Street of Southwark. "Had
you not another comrade in the wars, a vagabond
of most preposterous paunch and waddling legs?
I have heard that he, too, follows milord, the Wolf."

" There is such an one," sa^d Rouse, " but, alack I
he also is missing. I pray you, though, call not our
leader ' Wolf ' again; none save fools and his enemies
so name him."

" But I have heard that he is ferocious as a wolf,
lean and very gii,y. The sobriquet is not ill-fitting. "

" Nay," said the soldier, " in truth it fits most aptly
in description of his looks, for though he is but five-
and-thirty, his head and beard are grizzled, that be-
fore were black as night."

" 'Tis not strange," observed the poet, leading
hid new acquaintance toward a favorite hostelry ;
" campaigning in the South ages many a rnan before
his time."

"Ay, but that is not all."

"What more, then?"

"It is briefly told," answered the soldier. "His
father was sent by her Majesty, our queen, with mes-
sages to Henry of Navarre, in whose army we two
fought side by side. The envoy and his wife, who
were passing through Paris — "

"What I" interrupted the poet, "were they his par-
ents? I had forgot the story. It was t) night

A Tale of the Lost Colony

when Papists murdered Huguenots, the night of St.
Bartholomew. An Enghshman and his wife were
slain ere their son, who had come from the South ;o
warn them, could intervene. He saw his mo ler
struck down, saw the sword and the bared breasi in
the glare of a dozen torches, and saw his father killed,
too, after a brief struggle. Then the youth, who had
cut his way nearer to the scene, found himself beset
on all sides by a bristling thicket of .sleel that no man
could divide. He fell. The Catholics laughed and
left him for dead across the bodies of his parents.
But the lad was not so easily undone. He rose,
despite a wound beneath the heart, and, dripping
blood, carried the two dead forms to the Seine, where,
in Ihe shadow of the Pont Neuf, he weighted his bur-
dens with stones and buried then\ beyond the reach
of desecration. The tale came to me as come so
many legends of the wars from nameless narrators.
That youth, then, is — "

"John Vytal," concluded the soldier, gravely.
" He had fought before then at Jamac and Moncon-
tour ; but now he warred against the Catholics with
redoubled fury. 'Twas through him, I tell you, came
the victorious peace of Beaulieu and Bergerac, and
thefallofCahors."

"Find me this man!" The words burst from the
young poet in a voice of eager, impetuous command.
"I must see him!"

" He was to have been at the ' Tabard ' two hours
since," returned the soldier, despondently, " but came
not."

"Then let us return thither and wait for him a
year, if need be. He will come at last, 'tis sure."

The narrow way on the bridge near by was now
choked with its evening throngs, and, as day-
hght began to fade, a babble of many tongues rose
7

John Vytal

and fell in the streets of Southwark, with which
the creaking song of tavern signs, uswing in the
ever" ' breeze, blent an invitation to innumerable
strajiK'-fs from the bear-fight.

" Eh, now," said Rouse to one of these who joined
him, "do you honor the ' Spurre,' Tom Watkins, or
the ' King's Head '?"

"Nay, neither, Hugh; they lack that mustinesa
and age which make the inn. For this there's none
like the 'Tabard,' that being a most ancient hostel.
D'ye know what ' Tabard ' is?"
" Nay, poorly; some kind o' garment, I've heard."
" It is, Hugh ; a jacket with no sleeves, sht down
from the armpits and winged on the shoulders.
Thou 'It see it on the tavern sign. Only the heralds
wear the things to-day, and ciU 'em coat»-of-arms in
service. Now, d'ye see, it's meet that I, a breeches-
maker, should mind me of other attire as well, and
not go breast-bare about the town . So, Hugh Rouse,
I make my breeches by day, and I put on my tabard
by night, thank the Lord, and I'm a well-arrayed
coxcomb, ye'U allow. But here we are ; get you in."
The speaker, a thin fellow of middle age and height,
laughed over this oft-repeated joke till his sallow face
looked like a tangle of his own leathern thongs,
showing all its premature wrinkles, and his brat
shoulders shook convulsively; yet theie was no
sound in the laughter save a kind of whispered crackle
like the tearing of stiff paper.

On entering the inn, Marlowe and the soWier
sought an obscure comer, but Thomas Watkins, the
breaches-maker, being a character of no small popu-
larity among the worthies of the borough, and one
who had the commiseration of many, for good and
sufficient reasons, seeing the tap-room already well
filled, remarked thereon to the host, after his usual
8

A Tale of the Lost Colony

manner of forced joviality. "Mow now, have I nl-
lowcU myself to be forestulleil and lx.'alcn in our race
from the gardens to your spigot?" I le .sur\i'yed the
tables.with their dice-boxes, cards, and foaming cups,
feigning an astonished air. Several of the giie.sts
looked up at him, liiughing, with a certain indulgent,
almost pitying, amu.sement. Simon (Iroat, liie tav-
crn-kec|)er, smilcxl, too, in fat gotKl-hunior.

"'Tis not often so," he returned; "you know the
saying, Thomas, that the breeches j-ou make your-
self are unusual easy for quick runniii»; to the tavern,
and uncommon broad and thick in the seat, that you
may ^.t on our ale-bench by the hour with small wear
to them." The crowd laughed yet more heartily at
this, though many had heard tiie same stock jest
before. "But now, to tell truth, Tom, yc're the
very first from the gardens." lie lowered hi.s voice.
"These be soldiers, as you see. Some .Trrived at
Portsmouth from the Low Countries la.st month, and
already must .sally forth again, most madly, me-
thinks, on the perilous Virginia voyage."

The breeche.s-mpker glanced about him for the
first time with a close attention to the room's occu-
pants. For the most part they were unknown to him,
.several wejiring the unmi.stakable air of fighting men.
' 'it his scrutiny was suddenly interrupted by the
entrance of others more familiar in appearance.
Leading the new arrivals into the tap-room came a
short, nervous man, very thin both of body and voice.
.48 he saw Watkins, his face, which had been eager,
.showed disappointment. "Faugh!" he ejaculated,
tiuning to Groat ; " Tom's told you. "

The host looked as surprised as a very bland, cor-
pulent iierson can " Nay, Peter, what's he told me?"

The expression of Peter Sharp, needle-maker by
trade, news-monger by preference, grew eager again.

III

John Vytal

"That's like Tom/' he declared. "Some observ-,

1 w. r ^ J^" '"'■"^'^ '" his fellow-guests with

were none of ye there," he asked, "to see a most

astoundmg bear-baiting?" s<-e a most

The soldiers looked up with interest from their

fCn au:nt°"%'"i^''"^^ '" ParticularThowe^^
a Ketn attention to the speaker. "Alack I" whiv
pered Rouse, "I knew he'd do it." But his cl
panion, all ears for what was coming, made a caufous"
gesture commanding silence, and s^^id nothing

1 his IS how It happened," began the needle-
maker, now sure of an attentive audience " fIt^

thoufrrr'^ "?"^"' '''' S«™^«t bear, as I
thought that ever entered ringl-came badlv off
The wards must needs grab evefy dog-tail and pu!i

h m tut^Harrvt V""" ^^k^™ ''^''^ ^-'""""""
oL\Thh!ra'a^Srn7^^^^^

2^ wCr vjr;°^ ^'t^^^- -t wit&';h":

trn wmp, till tue blood runs * WhcrpTf rfr>„.„ •
fromaseatneartheringamanwewS^lZ

A Tale of the Lost Colony

travel-stained, and says that they should stop their
'wanton sport.' And following him into the ring
junijjs a clownish fellow of low stature and round
paunch, hke a stage jester in appearance. They both
carried arms, the first a rapier, the mountebank a
broadsword half his own length. We thought, then,
it was all arranged, some new-conceived buffoonery
to finish the baiting. Quick as can be, the two, with
drawn swords, went forward and untied the bear,
about whose back a lash still whistled. 'Tie him up, '
says the tall man, pointing to one of the floggers.
And suddenly 'twas done before we knew it. There
stood Sir Knight of the Whip tied to the post in place
of King Lud, and writhing most horribly, while the
ix)t-bellied little clown danced about him, plying the
self-same lash for dear life. In the mean time the
other— of high station, I take it, dcsi^'e his weather-
worn garb— calmly unblinds the bear and turns him
toward the sight at the whipping-post. The wards
stood speechless, for Master Long-man held his rapier
ready, and a pistol stuck out at his belt."

The needle-maker paused for breath, and. having
a certain dramatic instinct, called for a flagon of ale,
m order to postpone his climax. The other inmates
of the tavern now listened to the nervous little story-
teller with keen interest and some excitemeni The
pair in a comer waited breathlessly for the end. From
time to time as the narrative had proceeded the bigger
of the two could scarcely suppress his agitation, but,
being restrained by Marlowe, he managed to voice
the alarm he felt by no more than some occasional
smothered ejaculation, such a.s, " I knew he'd do iti"
or, "In troth, he was ever thusl"

" But the most astonishing incident is yet to come, ' '
resumed Peter Sharp, wiping the ale-foam from his
hps. " No sooner did King Lud see what was going
li

John Vytal

cEhi^'r/:,:;-'''ed slowly toward the
put a great paw on each o^f^l .'Jf °" ^'' ^'""^ ^^S^.
and lotked at him "^3^0. f f ""^"'^ -^^^^dL
Whereat the mountebank d'n:^''*^ ^l^ ^' ""^^ '^"■
to his sui«rior oflicer as r ZT^ ^fu'^^P ^"^ «P«ke
Sir Soldier, draww'out If V^' "*''"' '° ^- Then
the Master of 'he strts w£ ''"'" ^"'^ *"^"'"g '«
"ito the ring in ErS, '.^ ^l ?T "°^ '^""'ing
the purse ml h,f h^nds l^'.^f <?* ""'^ '''^''^"^^
made a comical ^w toaU th. ,1 *''" ''""' ^'^''^i"'=^
as who should sav 'I Hon '^T'" ^''"""'^ '^^ ^ng,
and, leading Ki^^Lud hTt'^X^^^' ^'""^«1 y°« '
out of the afe„a'.%t' L'^etrallt"'^ ^^^'^^'^
that. It had been part of ' h^ To T ''"' "'°'''^ sure

not believe that Z anl ' °""''""'- 2"' ^ <^°"W
who had been flog;:drBruinTf '"^'^ "^ ^■'"
wards, were feigned Mnr. ?'''"' ^""^ '^^ the

left, he says to us Jl -Sir""' "'^'" ^^' *^» "«"
watch such sr«r"as thes;^ ye yourselves men and
with the other dogs ' WhP.. ^^^°"' ''^""^'s
from the ring siowt uZT'^?, ^ *~' ^^'ked
despatch by him ami sM.h "'^^^".done with such

that they Lfold u u Uerir Th"'l'^ '■^ ^'^^^^"''
cality, no man in nllTh. r ' ^hmkmg ,t a comi-

few bdow us in tt rinrt"" '""^ ''"^"'^"' ^"^ the

wildered by the sudden''; ^'^ *'^''"«^d '"'"d be-

anns, stoj dumfouf d^ 'T?"'""'^\""'^ '^'^'^ "f

they might have regaiStb? '''"" ■*'^""' ^ '^ink,

the twain to iail h?d"S;tSroVtl,esL*r^",'
vised agamst pursuit beino- "it, °' 'he Sports ad-

for King L„d and not unfafnitf. ^- fu ' '''" ^'^"■♦«1
The needlc-raakpr r • 1 u '"^'^ '"^ Purchaser."

while a but oTconveril'l "^"^ '^"^ '^^"'^- ^^-P-
look of unspeakable rlru ^^''" ^'^"^ ^im, A

thesoldiera^nd thtpoeTlfth^elo^r ^^ '''' '^^ "^
12

A Tale of the Lost Colony

Toward this pair the eyes of a group across the
room were frequently directed. Among the latter
^TthatT '^"" """^ .-ticular/noticcable
tearing h , self not ungracefully, and wearing a
nding-c oak thrown off over one shoulder above an
mconsp,cuous doublet of dark red satin, whkh t"
gether with his silken hose and velvet. Weathered
hat, revealed the civilian. The man nearest to hn

t.t. Magil, by profession, unmistakably a soldier
He, too, was of medium height and aristocratic car-
nage, though with a face rendered exceedingly fll

As the needle-maker concluded his tale this man
smiled knowingly, and the smile had more of m"an"
.ng m It than of mirth or pleasantness. "Th"re"s
but one he said, that all might hear him-"but

John_" ' '"''"' "'^ '"^"'^^^' '« n°"e other than

But the sentence died on his tongue, half spoken
For Hugh Rouse, who until now had taken n'Tpart
m the general conversation, came forward from h,"
comer like a great mastiff from its kennel

Aay Sir Walter," l,e objected, " I pray you make
no mention of the man's name; it will do no good ''
For an instant the other's brow clouded, but
controlling himself with ease, he returned, su^vdv :
Oh, an you, as the man's frien<l. desire it, I Iceep
sdence Ne'er-the-less, fool. I call him, name or no
name, thus to interrupt a bear-baiting ''

Little satisfied with this forbearance, Huo-h whose
honest face had been for the moment almost threat^
13

John Vytal

ening, reluctantly resumed his seat in the comer
near Marlowe. "Ah, Hugh Rouse," observed the
latter, in an undertone, "your name neatly fits its
owner. But you did well."

In the mean time. Sir Walter St. Magil, whose re-
marks had been so unceremoniously interrupted by
Rouse, was talking in a low voice with his young
companion. "The man," he said, so low that none
but the immediate listener could hear him, " is Vytal
—John Vytal. We've fought together in the Low
Countries, but—" and here his voice sank to a whis-
per, while he glanced furtively about him, " he's not
one of our men."

"Nay, I supposed not," rejoined the young man,
in a careless voice, contrasting strongly with his
elder's caution ; " therefore, why consult this fellow's
pleasure?"

" Because we might but stir up mischief by oppos-
ing the brawling giant. Well I know him, for he is
Vytal's follower. As I live, the man has but few
friends, j-et those few would die for him."

"Some day the opportunity may be iheirs," ob-
served the other, smiling almost boyishly.
^^ "Yes," assented St. Magil, in a grimmer tone,
" but now we must have patience. For the moment
let us guard Vytal's name as carefully as we con-
ceal your own. Which reminds me— I'd almost for-
got — what name dost go by now?"

" 'Tis ' Frazer '; but give heed ! That tale of bear-
flogging has set these louts at odds."

He sjjoke truth, for Peter Sharp, the needle-maker,
now not over-steady, thanks to the never-idle tapster,
was indulging in an argument with Watkins, the
breeches-maker, concerning his favorite entertain-
ment. Entering witli tlieni into the discussion, though
with less volubility and heat, were Samuel Gorm, a

A Tale of the Lost Colony

bear-ward, and Alleyn, a young actor of plays and
interludes. It was not, however, until Peter expressed
the astonishing opinion that " none save a fool would
enter a play-house, whereas, every man worthy of the
name was at one time or another to be seen in the
Pans Gardens," that Hugh Rouse rushed into the
argument in his customary reckless manner.

' Hast been," he asked, vehemently, " to the ' Cur-
ten ' and seen Master Alleyn, here, go through his act-
ing? 'Sdein! The smell of powder, the sight of
a musketoon, the glisten of pikes— and what not^—
oh, they befool me finely 1" The soldier turned to
Marlowe, his broad face red with enthusiasm to the
roots of his flaxen hair. "It befools me finely," he
repeated. " I remember real rage and blows. Hand
goes to hilt instinctively. Now, in this new inven-
tion writ by you. Master Marlowe, there is good
cause for excitation." He paused, and, draining
his cup, glanced at the actor. " I' faith, Alleyn, when
you trod on Bajazeth's neck to mount his throne,
I stood there, too. When you caged the caitiff I
baited him betwixt the bars. When ye fought with
him,Icried,'Couragiol Bravo! Tam!jurlainel Well
tlu-ust!' and when you conquered, ' Thank God!' says
I, 'twas most brave work. There's no blade in Spain
or England can send a knave so quick to hell. ' And
that was but a play called 'Tamburlaine,' Master
Alleyn, all conceived by Marlowe and thee— a pen
and a sword together."

Hearing Rouse thus expatiate on the wonders of the
drama, the youthful civilian, then known as Frazer
seemed to catch the somewhat turbulent manner of
the soldier, and retorted with a sneer of mingled pat-
ronage and amusement : " Ay, mv good Pike-trailer
you may be thus easily gulled, being of so hot a nat-
ure, but we, the less fiery, see through the play-actor's
15

wv^TT

-i'V

€ --^i.

John V'ytal

pretensions." To this Rouse maue no response,
havinfi, in truth, an unready wit, and a tongue that,
as he occasionally realized, was quick enough to em-
broil him in controv crsy, but slow to rescue him there-
from with the preservation of an honorable peace.
Marlowe, on the other hand, was naturally far less
clumsy in wordy wars, and stood willing to espouse
his new friend's cause in an argument which he, as
playwright, was so well fitted to maintain.

"How noxy," said he to Frazer, "would not a sol-
dier be the first to cry out against mere mimicry of
that he holds most noble?"

"Indeed, Master Poet," returned Frazer, with an
expression less haughty, but none the less amused,
as he turned to his new opponent, " I know not, being
unfamiliar with men-at-arms; yet I still maintain
that the contest being real, as in a bear-fight, the ex-
citement to the majority is greater. The play is but
an imitation, and many actors, with all deference to
you. Master Alleyn, no more than strutting mimics.
I've seen stage kings, upon their exits from the inn-
yards of their mighty conquests, go home as sham-
bling hovellers. I've seen mock heroes, who erst-
while have trailed their pikes and rung their rowels
to the tune of Spanish oaths, go white as death at
sight of ixiniard drawn in earnest. But bear-baiting
is real. The bear's a bear, the dog a dog. They
know none other rcMe than this— to fight to kill, and
not for plaudits. Roar, growl, slobber, grasp of
shaggy arms, clinch of naked teeth— by all the gods,
these things are real ! Here, Jack Tapster, another
flagon to the bear!"

For a moment there was silence following the out-
burst of enthusiasm. This young Frazer had not a
little dash of the reckless, roystering sort, causing
the audience to forget his sinister companion, look-
i6

A Tale of the Lost Colony

ing on askance with thai eye which lay half behind
his nose as thouKh m an effort to hide itself from those
who might be capable of reading its real expression

bv v.hTr'"f "'^'•T"'' ^"^ ^'^°"S'y influenced
bj , hat they deeined an eloquent description of their
favorite sport. But Marlowe was one of the few who
saw deeper.

"Even so/' said he, with a sudden outburst of
young conceit "There's more than battle in my

nlv™ P l"'i Vri" '°^"' P^^^"tage, death in the
play. Each day I fed most miserable when Zenoc-
rate expires. A bear dies-that is but the death of
a bear. Zenocrate's death is a queen's demise-a
scene-a picture-call it what you will-'tis art, and
in bear-baiting, I tell you, there is no art "

,«;h ^T '^^'''7I''>'^T'^ ^°"^^' "excellent well
said. I cannot find words as thou canst "

" Art'" exclaimed Frazer, " art ! Is that a paint-
brush in thy dainty scabbard. Sir Poet^"' And
again he laughed with a curiously boyish merri-
ment.

"Ay/' returned Marlowe, "and its crimson color
grows dim. The paint-brush would fain find a pal-
ette to mix on and daub afresh. Master Princox "

"A palate I" ejaculated Frazer, laughing with
genume mirth ; " that sheath must hold an axe then
It s by the palate wine goes to the stomach, and an
axe, so I ve heard, to the block."

"Ha but thy wit," rejoined Marlowe, '"wol out '
as Geoffrey Chaucer said. Nay, though, perhaps
It IS because you watch fearfully the doings near
block and gallows that you know so well their
manners. Wit-foh! It is easy to play the game
of words as Tarlton does. I call it but juggling
phrase.s,and robbing language of its meaning, as
a vagabond juggles stolen coin."

B Ijr

lift

John Vytal

"Ay, juggles phrases," echoed Rouse, with ad-
miration.

" But we'll see a nobler conjury , ' ' pursued Marlowe,
upon whose hot blood the insolent bearing of Frazer
was having its effect. "The artist's brush shall
paint the juggler's tongue a deeper red — the — " The
iwet's threat, however, uttered while he rose and drew
his sword, was interrupted by Simon Groat, the host,
who came forward with hands uplifted in expostu-
lation.

"GogsnounsI" he exclaimed. "Not so, my wor-
shipful guests. Take ye the ' Tabard ' for a tilt-yard?
Nay, nay — I pray you — here, tapster, a quietus for
all — ojjen the ale-tap wide. Free flagons, gentles,
an it please you to wait and drain them. You'll
find more sjKice without — down by the bridge-house
there is room for — "

And now Sir Walter St. Magil, the apparent ad-
viser of young Frazer, lent his aid to Simon Groat
in calming the turbulent disputants. " Ay, Master
Frazer," said he, "respect thine host — the quarrel's
idle, gentlemen, if you'll permit me."

"But the swords," declared Marlowe, "shall not
be."

"Nay," cried Frazer, in whose veins the Canary
wine ran riotous. " Your artist's brush would fain
liaint — "

"Fooll" roared Rouse, "you'll pay high for the
picture," and so saying the big fellow pushed aside
tables and chairs, while Marlowe stood on guard with
rapier drawn. But at this instant, in a window be-
hind Frazer, yet plainly visible to Rouse and Mar-
lowe, the face of a man appeared.

" Fools all I" he said, in a voice that clipped words
and shot them from him like bullets. " Sots ! Ye're
the tears ! Why this babble of plays, when you only
i8

A Tale of the Lost Colony

enact a Iv^r-baiting yourselves, and that poorly?
'Twere nobler to be a bear or bull-dog than an ass."
Whereat, as suddenly as it had come, the face of the
siJeakcr disaj^x-'ared from the tai>-r()om window.

iMarlowe and Rouse turned one to another in the
silence of astonishment. And the name on the lips
of both men, although they gave it not even a whis-
pered utterance, was " Vytal."

mm'^

CHAPTER II

"Our swords shall play the orator for us."

— Mahlowe, in Tamburlaine.

It would be diflicult ndcxjuatcly to describe the
expressions of amazement, in face and gesture, of
those who had had this fearless effrontery thrown at
them. Its effect on Marlowe and Rouse was instan-
taneous. Both went Ijiick immediately to the table
they had quittetl, refraining from any further show
of fight. The youth called Frazer was the first to
speak.

" Who's the in.solent fellow?"

"If I .should fetch him," observed St. Magil, as
no answer was forthcoming, "you would see a most
extraordinary man." He went to the window. "Nay,
he's gone. 'Tis always thus— up and down front
hell's mouth like the devil in the play. But I can
describe that face as though even now it was here
before me, and, mark you, I saw it not when its
mouth defied us at the window. He is well called
the Wolf."

"Nay," interposed the poet, "save because manv
fear him. I drink to the man !" and Marlowe tumetl
to Rouse.

" To the man I follow!" said the good Hugh, sim-
ply; and they drank. Bi-t the cups of Frazer and
St. Magil for once stood untouched upon the table.

Before the conversation had gone further the tajv
room door opened, admitting a short, stout woman of
20

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

middle age and rubicund visage. CJlaricing quickly
about froni otie ti) another, her eyes at length rested
on ThoMias Watkins, who, having had his usually
riroininent place in the tavern gossip usur|)ed by
those of higher degree, aiji holding no small meas-
ure of ale within him, sat fast asleep and snoring.
The sight of the breeche.s-raaker in this |x)sition >»,
enrag:ed the new-comer that she awoke him bv the
stiirthng method of boxing his ears soundly, and
commanding him to follow her without delay. With
a iKiined air, yet much alacrity, the |X)or Icalher-
seller obeyed his orders. It was, indeed, his life-long
obedience to his wife's decrees that won him the
pity of his fellow-men.

"There's a customer at the shop, Tom Sot," de-
clared the shrew, leading her husband to the bridge
" who wants you. And lucky we are if he be honest]
for I must needs leave him there to guard it while
I come here and get you. Hut Sloth's your name,
and always will be. Had ever woman such a lazy
clod to de|)end on?"

Thus she railed at the now miserable Watkins
until they came to their shop at the sign of " The
Roebuck," on London Bridge. Finding it empty,
the breeches -maker, with much alarm, kmked up
and down the street through the gathering darkness.
The narrow way on the bridge was almost deserted
.save for a watchman slowly ajjproaching from the
London end with horn-sided lanthorn, and halberd
in hand, who cried out monotonously his song of
the familiar burden :

"Lantliorn and a whole candle-light I
Hang out your lights! Heart"

And just across the I .dge stood another man near
the parai>ct, his tall frame sharply defined against

John Vytal

the sky. It wns to hi-n that Watkins went in the
h<)I)c of obUuning information conccminK his de-
liartcd customer.

"Can you tell me, sir, did any man just leave my
shop at the sign of ' The Roebuck ' there?"
" '} "!''" '"'''" '■'-'I'''"* 'he stranger. " I am he "
And you were left to guard it, sir, in Ca.nmer
W.jtk.ns s absence," complained the breeches-maker
1 have guards! it. 'Twas but five minutes ago
that I came out, and I've kept a clo.sc eye upon your
doorway through every one of those five minutes I
tell you, Thomas, the time that has jmssed since I
went out of your shop with a new pair of breeches
is much longer."

The leather-seller kx.kctl up )a>enly into the speak-
er s face Sidt and bread!" he exclaimed; "'tis
Master Vytiil !"

"Yes Tom, or Captain Vytal, as you will, being
now a fighting man from the Low Countries. "

' Oh, sir, your presence brings me pleasure and
c. nsolation, I may say. How the times have changed
m these few years— within, sir, and without ' Have
you heard about Queen Mary, how we have been
dehverc^d from her r-lot.s these two months i^ist in a
^''^7: "^y ^^y- fof'^'ble way? Have you heard—?"
Ay Tom, all that, and more, too, on the road
from the coast. But one thing I have not heard—
how long will it take you to make me a pair of
breeches?

"But a short time. Captain Vytal. I was ever
liandy and quick with work for you."

" And so, Tom, I have come back to you "
K "i^^'^if' '^"'•a'a'^kl-the old days cannot come-
back. There are many, many changes since the
good old times. The world, it seems to me, grows
petty." *>

A Tale of the Lost Colony

"What! call you it jx-'tty when a queen comes to
the block?"

" Nay, but look yon, Captain Vytal. " He pointed to
the top of the Southwark Cate. " See those heads
spiked above us. They be thirty in number, yet all
are but the psites of seminary priests who ha\e en-
tered EnKland against the statute. Mow this old
bridge has had much nobler heads u|K)n it, crowning
the traitor's gate. The head of Sir William Wallace
looked down on the river long ago, and later the
Earl of Northumberland's. Some I have scx-n— Sir
Thomas iMore's, the Bishop of Rochester's—"

"Dy I leaven I" broke in Vytal, "you are in no
plea.sant mood, Tom, on seeing me. "

"'Tis not you, captain. 'Tis "— his voice sank
lower— "she," and he i)ointcd toward his shop.
" Have you a wife yourself?"

" Nay, Tom, nor never shiill have. "

" 'Tis well. The thousand new statutes that are
imixjsed ujwn us by her Majesty, the queen — God
preserve her!— since you left, are not one whit so
hard to bear as them her majesty — God jireserve
»««•' — Gammer Watkins, ini|x).ses."

"There are two sides to every difference, Tom.
Now, a little less at the ' Tabard '—but tell me, do
the citizens grow uneasy beneath these numerous
decrees?"

"Nay; many are but slight annoyances seldom
put in force. The wearing of a rapier longer than
three feet is forbidden by law; the wearing of a wom-
an's rufT too large is prohibited by laic. And our
caps should be of cheaiK;r stuff than velvet by law,
and we must not blow ujion horns or whistles in Ihe
streets by /aio-'uds prt>cious, there is no end to U.
I3ut there is no statute agiiinst the flogging of blind-
ed bears, captain— I had almost forgot this after-
23

»K;:3mBf

John Vytal

hThr """^ufl^^ "l'""; ^ ^^^ " "°*' for When they
had brought King Lud to such a i«ss I could not sU
there, but went to the bear-house in the gard "n t

Sri' Thf ^ '"' .°" ^^'^^^^°" '^^ closer^uarrers:
Yet I might have known it was you when Peter

Sharp described the adventure."

I ,y^'^//u"fu'^'^- "^''" ^°"y y°« «o soon forgot

want . '^'Tk" *'l" '"^""^ ''^^«-- But come
X want a pair of breeches. I go again abroad, bu
westward now, to the new country "

They walked across to the shop. "I fear " said
Watkms, his voice sinking to a whimper, " >ou shou d

CSu°V^- ^'''•^'^ ^^^-^^ -" -' -•^i^

;;Now, Thomas, whathas that todo with breeches?"
Nothing, indeed," returned the leather -.seller

a;Vi^t:;.-? ''"^'^- "«'^' ^"' -- — ^'S:

They were but just within the shop when the needle-
maker came hurrying to the bridge excitedly with
young Frazer, Marlowe, Alleyn the actor, "i'lorni

tlCiiTi^:"' '"^ '''''- «'• ''^>^^' ^'-'y

'They seek the jackanapes who dared to curse
the,„ from the window," .said Peter Sharp. "Tis

l^ouso hath started out in search, and they, being no
more threatened by the giant, are bent on scouring

vvc hirned.' The needle-maker looked keenly at
Watkms behind whom \VtaI, unknowingly, stood
concealed by the shadows of the shop

he, but tis not to the town he's gone; he hath

started out toward Lanilx-th " b - '= nam

" Toward Lambeth !" cried young Frazer, who by

^r¥¥^^^rJ'W^^mim^\ MF-

A Tale of the Lo' t Colony

now stood face to face with W tkns. 'f!, for Lam-
beth then; but first let us si..f and invi /the bear-
wards thither. Tis in part ihe.r .ife.h' to end the
quarrel.

tiere, perhaps, the danger would have been averted
had not a new quarrel arisen of far more serious con-
sequence, and, indeed, so fraught with import that,
although but mcidental, we recognize it as one of
those contentions in which the very Fates themselves
seeming to join, brawl like shrews until their thread
IS snarled and the whole fabric of a human life be-
comes a hopeless tangle.

As Watkins closed the door of his shop, Sir Walter
St. Magil turned back toward the 'Tabard' in ugly
mood. The wine, which at first had exhilarated him
being now soured by his disapproval of Frazer's
rashness, only added to his ill-humor. Young Fra-
zer, on the other hand, who walked beside him, had
grown merrier and even less cautious thcin before
Now that the Cauciry wine had fired his brain
other considerations were cast aside, all policy for-
gotten. The air of refinement and courtliness which
being so well assumed, had previously seemed genu-
ine, left him suddenly. He became but an ill-bred
roysterer, singing, as he started back, various catches
ot ribald songs, while Gorm, the bear-ward, arm-in-
ann with Peter Sharp, followed not over-steadily and
several other tipplers, who, from their windows in
the bridge houses, had seen the gathering before
Watkms's leather-shop, hurried out to bring up the
rear with a chorus of vulgar jesting.

At the Southwark Gate Peter Sharp, the needle-
maker, who by now was leading the motley throng
with an apish dance, having caught the spirit of hi-
larity, came to a stand-still and turned to the bear-
ward, who was shambling after him as steadily as his
25

f I

John Vytal

baitcr, didst cC si ^ V""' J""^' Bruin-

.x>inted ahead ohhnlT''''^^^ ^'^'^"" ««
the gateway on he HiihS^T^ ^''^ approaching
who was evidently S^^Je^vS/' "?/'"'! ''^ " ""^^
with a ruff, mdeedi" ^^''^^^ ^ ^ wench

sJpc'^fliHlJ^'ttr'^ r r- -''^- 'he

revellers were carrX "^ I ""'""fu' "^ '^'"h"^"-"' 'he

the needle-n,al^r's rude 1 *^' '^""' ^"'' bearing

t..nidly; then WddiStr1™?o"ll ^^^ ^f '^'^
toward a side str-etu^th^r, '""'her, turned

escaping n.sult b; tl^^!" ^ ^ ^ s tt"" "'
from the nearest water-gate Thames

rec'Ie^ F^e^"' "'^^■"^ ^ «--h, I should say," cor-

cla7d1h:"litTr ^""^^-'--^ attire," de-

iniportance, " L £ 's T."'"'"^ ■" f" ""^ °ffi"«'
b'lt the dntv ; ,,^^^f the queen's decree. It is

ti-ettlatdil^plSs^S'" "'/."'^'^'^" '"'"'P
>^h.le I fetch s Ws ' n >■ ^ ^^ '''^'^'" her, Gorm,
demands." Where^^"''.,^"' '''\"^'"S «^ the law
back quickly, andTrm with '"'''''°"' ^'"^^ '^^
geredforward tomte;«pt't;:f J.,^ '^"^"^ °^^'>' ^'^S'

passt^^^burrhi'^ „^^„^^,f -^ T''' '^-^

ing the bear-ward aside "aklh„M'"'l'' "'''°' P"^h-
and, t„king a lanthirn fr ™,'''^ ^'^^ ^ arm,

ers, held .t^befo f J^fa 7 Z iW "j.*^ '^-^'""''-

^"t::rr:i^^--4s;'

-himfull^mtHrS^oXrhe-fe;^^^^^^^
20

A Tale of the Lost Colony

groaning, and the weapon was with difficulty with-
drawn.

"Nay, now. Sir Walter," said Frazer, laughing as
though nothing had happened, "this is no wench
and ruff, but rather a flower, I should say, whose
outer petals, drooping, form a collarette alx)ut its bud-
dmg centre. It is, indeed, well to cut the petals I
shall keep them as a token;" and, leaning forward
he would have kissed the girl full uixm the lips, but
she stei.ijed back quickly, with her face Ijehind her
upraised arm, and tried to elude his grasp. "Is
there not one gentleman ?" she cried ; and then, in an-
swer, a voice above all the laughter said, sharply
\es one." It was Vytal. A few strides had
brought him from the breeches-maker's shop to the
gateway, only the lodge of the bridge jiorter stand-
ing between "The Roebuck "and Long Southwark
The girl now stood immediately beneath the great
stone arch of the gate, her eyes flashing in the lan-
thorn-light. For one instant Vytal looked at her
and the light fell on his face, too. "My God!" he
whispered; "it is you, come to me at last!" But
whatever expression his face wore then, it meant
only one thing to the crowd who watched it, par-
ticularly to the bear-ward, who had been suddenly
sobered by the adventure, and to the needle-maker
who had returned, long shears in hand.

" Tis the very knave we seek ! " e.xclaimed the two
m a voice of astonishment. "Yes," added Gorra'
'and now for the reckoning." So saying, he ran
heavily away toward the river and along its bank
to the Paris Garden.

"Ay, 'fore Gad!" ejaculated Frazer; "but there
are other debts to pay."

"One moment," said the soldier; whereupon, lead-
ing the girl by the hand, he took her back to Wat-
27

John Vytal

kins's leather-shop, and uithout another word ush-
ered her across the threshold. Standing tht-n be' ore
the dcx.rway by whieh she had entereat Vytal dev

.-M. Aldgil, who saw with annoyance that a irrav..
'luarrel was now inevtable, eanie for,vard w^th ease-

oo, and sober, he apjK^ared, as we have said a ce '

£r;:-ith tr'ir'^' "^'^ "'"^ ai„,ostt,^.?^;

icice, ^th Its beardless chm and compressed lii,^
showed valor and determination, to whu.h the j^''
amused, patronizm^- look of his eyes addid a er
tarn bantermg expression

. The crowd, whose numbers were steadily increas
.ng stood concentrated to one side near he Sou^
wark Gate,gumg the combatants as wide a ber"h as

mgs. bt. Magd held the on-lookers back his own
.apier drawn m case of interference. Bu a ' e
ent there seemed to be small chance of thi.rfor I gh
Rouse was beyond ear -shot, and Watkins wh
alone m the cro.d espoused the captain's [-ausc
could do naught but argue his case in the deaf ears
of the by-st.mders. The leather-.,eller' salbw f^ce

ability of \ ytal s sword-arm, he had seen the hastv
depar ure of Gorm, and knew its meaning Unfort
unately Alleyn, who might have been of assSn-e
jn caseof need, had left at the first sign, of ted blood
bemg a peaceable man by nature. We shmdd men'
.on however in addition to Watkins, as excep ions
to the general ill-feeling, two men who watched the
scene with a partial interest. These werrMerffn u
book-seller, and Marlowe, who m:^ Z7:s^'^^':i^:,
under the sign of " The Three Bibles " The ^^
.K>et was looking at Vytal with e^t aflaine 13
28

A Tale of the Lost Colony

denly the great martial heroism of his dramas had
become coriX)rate and vivid in this man. It did not
occur to him to interfere, as, breathless, he watched
'he fight. The conclusion of the contest was fore-
gone in his mind, and only the dramatic element
intensely absorbing.

"Now, couragiol my brave world-reformer!" cried
Frazer. "I will show you that civilians are not all
dullards at the art of fence. But before we cross I'd
have you remember that I could send you before a
justice an I would. There's a statute against ruffs
that are too big, and, in troth, still another against
rapiers over-long. Now yours. Master Vytal, is one
of these."

At this the excited Peter Sharp, who must needs
have his say when the occasion offered, cried out from
his position in the front rank of the audience : " Nay,
'tis a mere bodkin, and I should know, being needle-
maker; but you will prove it, I doubt not."

"Dolt!" rejoined Frazer, turning to Peter and the
rest, "I meant that not so literally. Mark you,
all rapiers are too long, an they play against the
queen'j decrees, be they bodkins or the length of
quarter -staffs." And, looking at St. Magil, he
smiled.

"Now, meddler," resumed Frazer, turning back to
Vytal, who maintained his guard in silence, " I'll
teach you the stoccata, as 'tis done before the queen.
The ctoccata — 'tis thus!" Whereat the youth, with
a quick wrist, thrust .skilfully. But his blade was
parried with apparent ease. " 'Slid!" he exclaimed,
betraying himself yet more the braggart, as he real-
ized the dexterity of Vytal, nevertheless a brave
braggart, which is an uncommo'.i combination.
"Body o' Csesar! but you kno.v the special rules!
Now this, for instance, the imbroccata/' and he thrust
29

John Vytal

again more viciously in ticrm T?,... , ■

the rapiers crossed -Tnl 1 ^'"^^ ^'^^'cral ramutes

.lea JuancinLTtLShrr^S' ^S\£t^
^--ut no, for at this instant the ranier of St Mo„-i

risk that. consWenng the incrSse If hT" """'?^ '"
tage greater than t.fe add." oT o Sd ""'"-/-"-

But It was then that several new-comers led hv

drawn and curses ^t,S^h^£:^t;:;tr::^
30

A Tale of the Lost Colony

tention was evident. One the people recognized as
him who had been flogged instead of the blinded bear
he had been flogging. Their onrush against the
.soldier, however, was delayed for an instant by the
sight of the furious fight before them. On seeing
them, Vytal's face grew graver. "CursI" he mut-
tered, and then, in a voice just loud enough to rise
above the clash of steel, " Watkins, seek Rouse I— the
'TabardI'"

At this, the breeches- maker, upbraiding himself
for his demented negligence, strove to break through
the throng, but could not. In desiiair, he groaned
aloud. Just then, however, Vytal found Frazer's
hilt with his rapier - point, and, maintaining his
guard for the instant with dagger alone, threw the
weapon high in air, and across the street, where it
fell, ringing, .-.t the feet of Christopher Marlowe.
And Vytal's voice rose above the clamor of in-
vective in a short, sharp cry: "Hugh! Rogerl To
me!" For the bear- wards from the garden were now
opposing his rapier with their heavy blades. Yet he
still held the door, rendering entrance to the breeches-
maker's shop and to the girl within it as difiicult as
ever. He heard a voice from across the threshold
imploring him to save himself, if he could, by leaving
the shoi)-door— and that low voice, coming to him
from behind the barrier, then again from an upper
window, where the girl watched with wonder his
gallant defence of her, only nerved his arm t.- the
more strenuous endeavor.

We have said that the rapier of which Vytal had
deprived Frazer fell at the feet of Marlowe. It came
like ati invitation to him— almost a conunand. Sim-
ilarly inspiration had come more than once to fire his
genius and kindle the flame that irradiated his poetry,
but here for the first time inspiration shone to show
31

John Vytai

hnii nnotlicr outlet for his ardor; the lustre of mere
I-ortrayal ,.ale<l M,„v the forked liuhtniiiK „f those
swords at \v,)rk, wlule his thoughts, at lirst sUL'L'est-
MiK some future depiction .,f the seene, ^ave wav'to
hot nnindse. His blood ran ri,.louslv in his veins
and as he lea|«l forward to Vytal's side with Krazcr's
rapier ready, all his art was the art of fence, all his
spirit the spirit of action.

But his opiy)rtune aid, though imniLxliately aiv
preciable in holding back the soldier's assailants
was soon diverted by the latter to another course '
Quick!" said Vytal, in a low voice. "Go you
in by the door behind us. U,>-'' his words came
disjointedly, being broken by some extra - hazard-
ous thrust or parry demanding unusual attention—
up, there— through the shop— ah, they almost had
you— control his point another minute— take her with
,Vou through the |X)rter'.s kxige-it can be done-
quick !-and then whither she will-to some place-

"t^''"'? fr:*'"^ y,'-™"nber the place-meet me at the
la bard later.

"Meet you!" ejaculated Marlowe, still with eves
on every movement of the adversaries "No inan
could hold out singly— against— this army. I came
to save your life— not for some intrigue "

"An you call it that," returned Vytal, who was
now pressed closer than ever by St. Magil Frazer
and the cursing bear-wards, " 'twere better— to fieht
against me! Could you defend the door, I'd go my-
self-quick!-the game fails us- Save her-'tis
what I fight for— see— ah, they have us; we're lost
an you tarry longer-quick— quick, into the shot>-"
and with that, Vytal, assuming a more aggressive
ineth.xl than hitherto, so drove back his opponents
by the sheer determination and boldness of his at-
tack, that Marlowe, finding space to retreat, and beinir
32 *■

A Tale of the Lost Colony

persuaded by the other's vehemence, pushed the shop-
door open behind him, and, with his rapier still in
play, stepped back across the threshold. Once with-
in till shop he closed the door, to which Vytal fell
back again slowly, and, maintaining his old (Msition,
made further ingress for the mome t impossible.

But the odds were now almost ho|ielessly against
the soldier. Frazer had borrowed a broadsword, and,
together with St. Magil and 'hrcc of the bear-wards,
who out of six alone reinaint ! linwounded, sought
to break through Vytal's wonderful defence. Fort-
unately only St. Magil and his companion were dex-
terous swordsmen. It was the numliers, not the skill,
of his additional opponents that Vytal feared. But
Frazer's broadsword, although somewhat unwieldy
in an unaccustomed hand, by its mere weight had
nearly outdone the light rai)ier opposini; it. The
soldier, therefore, sought to keep this heavy blade en-
tirely on the defensive, realizing that if once Frazer
were allowed to swing it freely it would doubtless
strike through the cleverest rapier parry that could
possibly seek to avert its downward cleavage.

Few contests have shown a shrewder scientific skill
in fencing than Vytal now pitted against the superior
force of his antagonists. Thrusting viciously at
Frazer, he appeared to neglect as own guard, .save
where he opposed his poniard against St. Magil's
rapier. By this feint he accomplished a well-con-
ceived end, rendering Frazer's great sword merely a
defensive weapon, and exposing his breast invitingly
to the foremost of the unsuspecting bear-wards, who
lunged toward the opening so recklessly as to neg-
lect his own defence. In that instant Vytal's rapier,
like lightning, turned aside from its feigned attack
on Frazer and pierced the bear-ward's breast.

As the mortally wounded man fell back, moraen-
C 33

1 :t,'

John Vytal

tarily hindering the onslaught of his friends, the voice
of (,ammer Watkins reached Vytal from within the
shop. l-.o,.!!' she cried to hira, "you fight for
naught. The bird ha' flown already with another—
ha, the coxcomb robs you of your game—"

But it was for this that Vytal waited. His plan
concerning the girl's safety being now successfully
executed eft him free to -..ct entirely for himself. He
.saw the fo ly of attempting to hold out longer against
so great odds, with no hope of an actual victory. His
strength, although not yet seriously impaired, must
inevitably sooner or later be exhausted, whereas his
opponents could harbor their own by alternately fall-
ing back to rest and regain their breath while others
in turn kept him occupied.
With this realization, v> tal set his back against

Ik w'u l^f,'"^ '° °^'- '' ^n'J enter the shop, but
the latch held it against him. He dared not o-U to
Gammer Watkins for fear of betraying his plan of
escajje to his adversaries, and so, to their amazement
with not a trace of warning he fiung the poniard from
his lelt hand into the face of St. Magil, and. darting
that hand behind him, lifted the latch. Instantly
he was within the shop, followed by Gorm Frazer
and a.s many of the throng as could make their way
w,th a headlong rush after him. They were now like
hounds lusting for the blood of a stag at bay except
irig two among the foremost to enter, whether thev
would or not-namely, the terrified breeches-makar
and the watchman, who, lanthom in hand, had wit-
nessed the contest with a gaping interest instead of
seeking to end it as the law demanded.

From the shop's entrance straight to its rear wall

ran a dark passage, at the end of which a window

opened high above the Thames. Beside this passage

a narrow stairway led to one or two upper chambers

A Talc of the Lost Colony

Mounting quickly to a step midway on the staircase.
the brecches-inaker was followed by many others,
who, eager to gain view of so desiHirate a conflict and
to see the final harrying of the prey, pulled one an-
other down from the coveted vantage-ixiint, t-ampling
on the weaker oiies that fell. The watchman, gath-
erinii up his l<mg gown, liad succeedc-d in arriving
at the breeches- milker's side, thanks to his oflicial
su|>t'jii)rity, and now, as he held his lanthorn out at
arm's-length over the i)as;iage, the dim light through
its h(.rn screens fell ujwn Vytal and others in the hall-
way, who, licideJ by Gorm and Frazer, weie press-
ing their game with redoubled fury. The staircase
groaned and creaked beneath its trampling burden,
the house seeming to echo the clash and whisjier of
steel, while now and again a bitter oath rang out
above the varied clamor. For the rage of Vytal 's
enemies only increased as it became evident that the
number of those ca[iable of direct attack was nec-
essarily limited by the narrow passage.

Thus he still remained unscathed.

Assuming again the defensive until he had fallen
back to a spot immediately beneath the watchman's
overhanging light, he suddenly struck upward with
his rapier, and, knocking the lanthorn from its hold-
er's grasp, brought to the shop utter darkness save
for a glimmer of starlight that shone faintly through
the rear window.

Then, after the first bewildering moment of gloom,
when hoarse cries for lights drowned softer sounds,
and the staircase voiced its strain with new groans
under the stampede, and each swordsman mistook
his neighbor for the enemy, with the result of blun-
dering wounds in the black p;issage— after that mo-
ment of havoc there came a lull, a loud volley of oaths,
and the breech&s-maker's laugh was heard crackling
35

John Vytal: A Talc of the Lost Colony
like dry wood amid the roar of an anjrrv flame P„r

onemstant even the patch of skyframSfyThecil
ment was obscured, and those looking toward^ht
wmdow saw it filled by a dark form thSt c^^^anj
went as a cloud across the moon "

iJo'^'i^zi"^"^ "^ »'"' "^^ '->-• ^- -t

Sooblf

CHAPTER I

"What star shines yonder in the east?
The loadstar of my Ufe,"

—Marlowe, in The yew of Malta.

" The 8th we weighed anchor at Plymouth, and
departed thence for Virginia."

With this terse statement of fact an old-time trav-
eller is content to record the beginning of a memo-
rable voyage.

It was on the 8th of May, 1587, that two ships
—one known as the Admiral, of a hundred and
twenty tons, the other a fly-boat— set sail westward
from the coast of England. There was also a pin-
nace of small burden carried on board the larger
vessel, and ready to be manned for the navigation
of shallow waters; but this, like a child in arms,
was a thing of promise rather than present ability.

The aim of the voyage is briefly outUned : to es-
tablish an English colony in Virginia, where previ-
ous attempts at settlement had resulted in desertion
and no success; to find lifteen men who had been
left the year before to hold the territory for Eng-
land; to plant crops; to produce and manufacture
commodities for export; to extend commerce and
dominions; to demand the lion's share between pos-
sessions of France and Spain— the great central
portion of a continent; and thus in all ways first
and last to uphold the supremacy and majesty of
England and the queen.

^•n

John Vytal

an?CowS=^' ^"^ '^'" provisioned at Portsmouth
and Cowes, where many of the colonists embarked
Manteo"!ndT^ the notable ones two Indians!
Manteo and Towaye by name, who, several years
before had been brought to England from Roanoke
th^i n- ^'''^°^- ^* Portsmouth, among others
three soldiers came aboard, booted and spurred as
though romajecent journey in the saddle; t"e one
shm tall and bronzed by the sun ; another no shorter
but broad and heavy in proportion; the third laugh:

he had stS ""T '"'■ 'V' "^^ ^ '^'-S^ b"ff"-.
m^.rl^l I ."^ '"u°'^ '" ^'^ ''°"'''et' «"d leading
much to the astomshment of the passengers a bt^fl

ofa chL7o;t''r"" ^.if'l'-^^-t' fnd folw^^
on a Cham of bondage with remarkable fidelity

ff,;"lw "T'".*-- "^"^ °^ ^'^^^ «°Wiers stood alone on
the Admtralsh^gh stern, a motionless figure c"ea„"

se"i f^t'".'V'^' '*'^^- "'^ ^y^^' Wue hke The deep
sea looked back toward the receding coast-line S
on^the d.sso.vmg land with a resigned fat^h?^ ani

With the sun. westward, the two ships went down

STm^ '^""°"; '^^^'"^ EnglandrmemoT?
behmd-a memory, yet very real, while the haven
far ahead somewhere beneath the crimson sk"'
seemed but a dream that could not shapT°tself-a
dream a picture, bright, alluring, undetailed l^e
the golden painting of the sun. T^U and crS a a
naked fir;^ree the man stood on the top deck^hr the
stern-sl.ll stood when night came and there was
not even a melting horizon to hold his gaz^rtdl
stood as though to turn would be to wakeWe"
from a vision beside which all thines act,!n ^ I
seem unreal. But at last he turnerrLdSy and
drawing his cloak about him, glanced off towardTh '
darkening west; then, with a word to one and 1^!
40

A Tale of the Lost Colony

other as he passed his fellow-voyagers, he sought
the ship's master to discuss plans for the mainten-
ance and general welfare of the colony.

As he was about to enter the main cabin a soldier
accosted hira. " The die is cast, captain. "

"Yes, Rouse; we have done well in starting. May
ill fortune throw no better."

^^ "Nay," observed the Saxon giant, in low tones.
" But already I mistrust this Simon Ferdinando, the
master of our ship,"

"He is but a subordinate. We have the governor
and his twelve assistants to depend on."
"Ay, captain, and you."
"I am one of the twelve."

"God be praised!" said Hugh, fervently. "But
there's mischief in Simon. I always misUke these
small men."

" You forget our Roger Prat, no higher than your
belt ; and yet, Hugh Rouse, even you have no greater
fideUty."

Tis true, but his breadth is considerable. Cleave
him in twain downward, as he's ofttimes said, then
stand his paunch on the top of his head, and Roger
Prat would be as tall as any of us. 'Tis merely the
manner of measurement."

"In all things," said Vytal, with a fleeting smile,
and wishing to see this Ferdinando, the Admiral's
master, in order to judge of the man for himself, he
entered the main cabin.

With Ferdinando he found John White, the gov-
ernor appointed by Sir Waltei Raleigh, at whose ex-
pense the voyage had been undertaken. The gov-
ernor, whom Vytal had met but once before, was a
man of medium stature and engaging personality.
His expression, frank and open, promised well for
sincere government, but his chin, only partly hidden
41

John Vytal

S.^ T"^ beard lacked strong determination. Fer-

T^°-Tc ^l"""""" ^^' t° ^hom Vytal was now

introduced for the first time, so shifted Ms eyTwWte

talkmg, much as a general moves an army^S

to conceal the true position, that candor l^'^o Zt

m the.r expression; while his low forehead and c^e

brows bespoke more cunning than ability. He w^s

moreover, undoubtedly of Latin blood; fhereforrTn

he judgment of Englishmen, given rather to s raLv

than open courage. Nevertheless, his reputation Is

a navigator had not yet suffered. Tha? he reli^

much on this was made evident by his first conversa^

tion with Vytal. In answer to the latter's quest"^s

concerning matters that bore directly on the mTnaere^

^"Vl *»>?,«".•« fl^t' Ferdinando rephrf^Skc^

Sir Walter Rakigh has wisely left the WnkgeS

"What then," asked Vytal, "if you object not to
the mquiry of one who studies tlit he Lay duly
prachse, what, then, are the main rules we "^

To this the master made no answer, but, with an
air of indulgent patronage, handed Vyta severa"
sheets of paper well filled with writing. The solder
glanced over them, and read among others the fol-
lowing orders: "That every evening the fly- boat
come up and speak with the Admiral, at seven of the
clock, or between that and eight; and shall receive
the order of her course as Master Ferdinando shall
direct. If to any man in the fleet there happen anv
mischance, they shall presently shoot off two pi^^
?wo iSts." " ^ ''^ "•^•^' '^° P'«=^ ^"l »how

When Vytal had read these and many similar ar-

A Tale of the Lost Colony

tides he turned slowly to Ferdinando. " A careful
system. Is it all from your own knowledge?'

"From whose else, think you?"

" I make no conjecture, but only ask if it be yours
and yours alone."

" It is," replied Simon, and turning to John White,
the governor, who had said little, he added, " Your
assistant, worshipful sir, seemingly hath doubt of
my word." White turned to Vytal questioningly.

"Nay," obser.fid the soldier, "I would show no
doubt whatever," ana so saying he left the cabin.

Similar conversations followed on subsequent even-
ings, Ferdinando boasting much of his seamanship;
and once the governor went out with Vytal from the
room of state. ".You mistrust our ship's master.
Captain Vytal, although you would show it not on
considering the expedience of harmony Wherefore
this lack of faith?"

"Because the orders and articles are framed ex-
actly upon the plan of those issued by Frobisher in
1578, when he sought a northwest passage, and b •
Sir Humphrey Gilbert in 1583, changed, of course,
to suit our smaller fleet. The worthy Ferdinando
has effected a wise combination ; he has done well —
and lied in doing it."

The governor looked up into Vytal's dark face for
the first time, searchingly. "How came you to
know?" he queried.

" I remember things."

"But where — "

" I forget other things," was Vytal's answer. " An
you'll permit me I'll leave you. There's a man's
face under that light" — he was walking toward it
now alone — "a familiar face," he repeated to him-
self, and the next minute exclaimed in amazement,
" 'Tis the man who fought beside me on the bridge I"
43

John Vytal

"Ay," said the poet, smiling, " 'tis Kyt Marlowe *
at your service in reality."

_ Vytal scrutinized him keenly, Christopher return-
ing the gaze with a look of admiration that increased
as his eyes fell once more on the so-called bodkin
at the soldiers side. " Voxx are readier with that
nnpleraent than with your tongue," he observed,

^^ "The most important questions," returned Vytal

.T-^%t "'"•' ^ "P[^'^^ ^y^^'°''- «n impatient
eye. i here was an abrupt cogency and gravity of
manner about the soldier that sometimes piqued his
fellows into an attempted show of indifference by lev-
ity and freedom of utterance. They made as though
\* they would assert their independence and disavow

an allegiance that was demanded only by the man's
strong, compelling personality, and seldom or never
by a word. He was masterful, and they, recognizing
the silent mastery, must for pride's sake rebel before
succumbing to its power. Marlowe, with all his ad-
miration, bom of the soldier's far-famed prowess and
imperious will, proved no exception to this rule

I marvel," he observed, with a slight irony and
danng banter, that so dominant a nature is readily

fu Hl^ ,.? ^^ ""^'"'''^ "^"ty °^ women's faces. Even
the Wolf s eyes may play the—"

"What?"

" The sheep's. " It was a bold taunt, and the poet
was surprised at his own effrontery. But like a child
he saw the fire as a plaything.

"Explain." The word came from Vytal quieUy
and with no impatience. •' i j-

,oni^life*"J'/''^r ""''T "° ■■^"^"^ '«"d of Marlowe's per-
sona life and dwelhng.place at this time, I have felt justified
m attributing h.s generally acknowledged absence f rom W
doij to a Virginia voyage.

A Tale of the Lost Colony

" Oh, there have been other beguiling faces, so I've
heard. A tale is told — " he hesitated.

"Of whom?"

"Of you."

"AVhatisit?"

" A tale vaguely hinting at a court amour. 'Tis
said the queen would have knighted a certain cap-
tain for deeds of valor in the south; but at the mo-
ment of her promising the spurs, she found him all
unheedful of her words, found him, in fact, with eyes
gazing off entranced at a girlish face in the presence
chamber, the face of her Majesty's youngest lady-
in-waiting. To those who saw our Queen Elizabeth
then and read her face, the issue was seemingly plain-
er than day, blacker than night.

"'Nay, Captain Vytal,' said the queen, her lip
curling with that smile of hers which is silent des-
tiny itself — 'nay, she is not for you ; nor yet is knight-
hood either. Our boons are not lightly thrown away,
so lightly to be received.' And then, says the tale,
she paused with a frown, to cast about for an alter-
native to the benefit .she would, a moment before,
have conferred most graciously. From her dark
expression the courtiers supposed that ignominy
would take the place of compliment in the soldier's
cup. But at this instant her Majesty's favorite.
Sir Walter Raleigh, 'Knight of the Cloak,' made
bold to intervene on his friend's behalf. ' An I may
venture,' he said, in a low voice, ' to argue the case
before so unerring a judge, I would assert from my
own experience that this man's first sudden sight of
a divine radiance has dazzled and blinded him, so
that perforce he must seek a lesser brilliancy to ac-
custom his eyes to the perfect vision. The moth,
despairing of a star, falls to the level of a candle.'
Then her Majesty turned to Sir Walter with a chang-
45

John Vytal

ing, kinder look. And before she could glance again
at the captain to seek for an acquiescence to the flat-
tery (which, I believe, would have been sought in
yain, for the soldier is said to be desperate true), be-
fore she could harbor a second resentful thought,
the knight spoke again. ' There is an augury about
this Captain Vytal,' he declared, 'a prophecy sung
at his birth by a roving gypsy maid. " lie shall be."
said she, "a queen's defender— the brother of a king."
I pray your Majesty leave him free to prove the truth
of this prediction. Then, is but one queen to whom
it can refer, for there is one queen only under heaven
worthy of the name. Of the king I know not, but it
may be that the king, too, is our most gracious sov-
ereign, Elizabeth, for while in beauty and grace she
is a queen, in majesty and regal strength no monarch
is more kingly. "A queen's defender— the brother
of a king. " It has all the presumption of a prophet's
words. For the latter condition is impossible ; none
can ever rise so high as to be honored by your Maj-
esty with the name of brother '—Sir Walter's voice
sank almost to a whisper— 'indeed,' he added, dar-
ingly, ' none would choose the name. But— aqueen's
defender — that means more.'

" Her Majesty turned to the soldier. 'Would you
be your queen's defender to the end?' she demanded,
sternly, but now without menace in her voice.
"'To the death.'

'"Appoint him,' she said to Raleigh, 'where you
will. The spurs are yet to be won by the defence. ' "
Marlowe paused, his story finished. " And thus,
you see," he added, as Vytal made no rejoinder, "I
was right in saying that more than one fair face had
hazarded your welfare."
" No, you were wrong. "

The poet's dark eyes opened wide with a query,
46

A Talc of the Lost Colony

but he said nothing in words, for the feeling of pique
had already passed with his airy rebellion against
the other's trenchant monosyllables.

"The face in court," avowed Vytal, as though
half to himself, " and the face in the Southwark Gate-
way, belong to one and the same woman. I ask you
outright wherefore you met me not at the ' Tabard
Inn ' ? Whither went the maid?"

" Now there," replied Marlowe, his eyes cast down,
" / must play the silent part. In truth, I know not."

"Know not?"

" Nay, for when we had come safely from the por-
ter's lodge, she demanded that I should take her tu
a barge, that she might go thereby to London. We
had no more than set foot within the boat, and I was
questioning her as to the directions I should give the
waterman, when another wherry came beside us,
seemingly just arrived from across the river, and a
man in that, scrutinizing us, slowly sp"ke to her.
Then, thanking me, and bidding me thank you for
that which she said was beyond all payment, she
entered the wherry with the other, and was quickly
conveyed toward London."

For several minutes Vytal was silent ; then at last
he asked, quietly, "Did the man call her by name?"

" By the name of Eleanor."

" And she said no more of me?"

"Yes, much, as we went toward the river; much
concerning your gallantry; and from the barge
wherein she sat, beside her new-found friend, she
cried back to me that with all speed they would send
you aid to the bridge. 'Tis evident the assistance
came."

Vytal made no denial. The method of his escape
was but a trifling detail of the past. He shrugged his
shoulders. " 'Tis well I strive not only for reward."
47

John Vytal

'Was it not reward," asked the nnpf "♦„ i~i

hath poetry's perfect motion, and to « LtSe
>n the rhythm as in the breast of a sleepinV Z_
was that not recompense?" ^'^eping sea-

"Yes."

reward?" ^^'" 'P'"^"" '' "»* invaluable

"Yes, "said Vytal

held h.s eyes fixed on the poet's face, across wS

^shidowrt^""'"^ '^" uncertainly, intenstf^
a shadow that came not only from outward causes
And the spell possessing Vytal, portended «,menm
condit.on-<hang^tidings-he could not telTwhlT
his a?m ^ ^^^f^!' ^' '^ ^y ^ ™P»ke, caught

Jghrjthe K;ttVLS" "Lr"'^ i!!4

The soldier followed his gaze. "Therel" Th^

word came in a vague toneof wonder, as from a sill
er at the gates of a dream; and wi'th no co^^

A Tale of the Lost Colony

no reproach, no question, Vytal went away to be
alone. '

For many minutes after he had gone, Marlowe
stood looking mto the shrouds, but at last, as though
their shadows palled .,n his buoyant sr.iril, he wan-
dered along the deck, singing to himsnlf a song of
genume good cheer. And soon, to his delight the
not«, of a musical instrument, coming from .some-
where amidshi[«, half accompanied his tune. Eairer-
ly he sought the player, and came on a scene that
pleased him. For there against the bulwark sat a
stout vagabond cross-legged on the deck, strumming
mernly on a cittern, as though rapidity of movement
were the sole desire of his heart. The in.strument,
not unhke a lute, but wir^strung, and therefore more
metaUic in sound, rested somewhat awkwardly on
his knee, .or his stomach, being large, kept it "from
a natural position. The player's fat hand, never-
theless, with a plectrum between the thumb and fore-
hnger, jigged across the strings, his round head
n^'"^ I""^ ^^^ *hile and his pop-eyes rolling
Tis beyond doubt that Roger Prat," .said Mar
lowe to himself, "Vytal's vagabond follower, and
avenger of King Lud, the bear "

fn^f^t "°""'l .^'^ ^^"'''"S figure were many
forms, dark uncertain, confused in outline, and above
the forms faces-faces vaguely lighted by an over-
hanging lanthom, and varied in expression, yet all
rough coarse uncouthly jubilant with wine and song
In the middle of this half-circle a woman sat pre-

ir^ fj ^'"u"''7^^"""g g'^^*""; ^^' red lips
were parted wichmgly. She was singing low a
popular catch, in which "heigh-ho," "sing hey "
and "wdladay." as frequent refrains, were the only
intelligible phrases. ■'

^ 49

John Vytal: A Talc of the Lost Colony

On seeing Marlowe she rose, even the refrains be-
cominK inarticulate in the laughter of her greeting.

"Why, 'tis Kytl"»heciied— " Kind Kyt, the jioctl"
whereat, tnuch to the amusement of her admiring
audience, she stepped lightly toward him and, throw-
ing her head back, asked outright, " Saw you ever
so comely a youth?" then, with a coquettish, Ixm-
tering took at the cittern-player, " (Jood-night, Roger
Hrat, I'm going," and she led Marlowe away into
the darkness.

"Gyll! " he exclaimed, "Gyll Croyden! Is't really
thee? How camest thou to leave thy Bankside realm,
thy conquest of rakes'and gallants?"

She laughed anew at this and shrugged her shoul-
ders. "How camest thou, Kyt Marlowe, to leave
thy Blackfriars, and thy conquest of play-house folk,
for the wild Virginia voyage?"

The poet laughed as carelessly as herself. " Be-
cause 'tis wild," he answered. "Indeed, I know no
other reason."

"It is my own, "she said. "I grew stale in Lon-
don."

" Not thy voice, Gyll. Methinks 'tis all for that I
like thee."

She pouted, then smiled contentedly. "Come,
Kyt, away into the bow. I'll sing to thee alone."

And in another part of the ship Vytal was recall-
ing one of the rules of sailing, " That every evening
the fly-boat come up and s|)eak with the Admi'ui,
at seven of the clock, or between that and ^ight;
and shall receive the order of her course as Master
Ferdinando shall direct."

"To-morrow at seven of the clock," he repeated,
"or between that and eight."

CHAPTER II

"ti.'J^'^V' I*"'''' ""'•"• '""'• ''"'*«> ""• 'kill
Than when .he Rave eternal chaos form."

—Marlowe, in Tamburlaint.

ALTHOUGH on the second night there came but
httle wmd he Admiral's master found it necessary
to strike both to,«a.Ls in order that the less sjnx^y
fly-boa m.gh come up for his orders, as the rule de-
manded. But even with this decrease of canvas the
sun had set arjd darkness fallen before the two sk ,«
lay side by SKle. At last, however, being lashed tv
gether with hawsers, so that men mighf ,>ass fro^
one to the other without difficulty, they drifted S
to beam-two wa.fs of the sea, seeking each other^
compan.o„sh,p on the bed of the dark ocean hke
children afraid of the night. But that night, at least
was kind to them, though only the lightest brTele
favored their progress. T\e sea lay !moo h as a
mountain-guarded lake, save where thT^^o slow
moving stems disturbed its surface, awakening r^^
PCS that rose, mmgled. and dispersed, to seek thei^
sleep again astern. And the ripples played with the
waiting beams of stars, played and slumbelSand
layed again, but beyond the circleof this night-time
dalliance all was rest. Here the ripples were as sm^le.
on the face of the waters, and the gleams were the
gleams of laughing eyes; but there far out the sea
s^pt, with none of this frivolous elfinry to br^ S

John Vytal

Yet even now, up over the ocean, as a woman who
rises from her bed and seeks her mirror to see if sleep
has enhanced her beauty, the moon rose from behind
a long, low hill of clouds, rose flushed as from a pas-
sionate hour, and paled slowly among the stars.

From the Admiral's deck a young man watched
her. "It is Elizabeth," he said, "leaving Leicester
for her people's sake. Roseate love gives place to
silver sovereignty. The woman is sacrificed that
we may gain a queen. Tis well that Mistress Dare
owes no such costly relinquishment to the state. Few
compel the love of men like Vytal — and yet — and
yet I would have — "

But a laugh at the poet's side interrupted him,
and a girl of comely figure thrust her arm through
his own. "Moper,"said she. "Come now; Roger
Prat hath brought his bear to show us, and there
will be no end of merrymaking. We have I know
not what aboard — two morris-dancers, hobby-horses,
and the like conceits of May- time."

"By Heaven, Gylll" exclaimed Christopher, "one
might think our governor was Lord of Misrule and
the whole voyage but a Whitsun jollification. Where-
fore these ateurdities?"

"To entertain the savage people," * quoth Gyll,
leading him off tyrannically. "On my word, Kyt,
'tis so ! We would win thern by fair means, you
see."

"And you me by the same pleasantries," returned
Marlowe, more lightly, as her mood captured him.
" Mistress Croyden, thou'rt a savage thyself, a sweet
savage, Gyll, and they're all for winning thee, I sup-
pose."

She smiled complacently, with a full conscious-

•Seo Hakluyt's Voyages.
52

A Tale of the Lost Colony

ness of the charm that made her popular, and Mar-
lowe laughed at the expression of childlike vanity.

Then for an instant his brow clouded, his flattery
became more lavish and exaggerated.

A tall, unmistakable figure had passed them in
the darkness, like the person of a dream, and Vytal,
having gone to the fly-boat, was even now in eager
search.

The vessel, a small but cumbrous thing of the
Dutch galliot type, with mountainous stem and
stolid bow, offered little encouragement to the seeker.
For its lights only revealed vague faces, while its
masts and shadows, decks and tunings, seemed to
form an agglomeration of dark hiding-places in which
any one might ail-unwittingly stand concealed. But
for the moon, now sailing high, recognition would
have been impossible.

The soldier, moreover, customarily so direct of
method, felt a certain embarrassment and helpless-
ness in this unprecedented adventure. Having un-
til now avoided women with a real indifference, his
present want of practice gave him the awkward feel-
ing of a raw recruit. He was momentarily at a
loss as to the best manner of procedure. Since he
knew none aboard the vessel of whom he could in-
quire concerning Eleanor Dare, the chance of his
meeting her, without special purpose, seemed slight.
He considered the expedience of accosting at randoni
some stranger, who might perhaps at least know
the girl by sight. Weighing this plan in his mind,
he approached a company of the voyagers, who, gath-
ered in a circle about the mainmast, were kneeling
devoutly, while an Oxford preacher read the evening
prayer. It was in harmony with the tranquil even-
mg— the picture of those forty or fifty men and wom-
en beneath a dim lanthom, that, declining the shnd-
53

John Vytal

ows beyond its scope, lit up here and there a fa^e
reverent with suppHcation. And to the earn^t „ et"
in the pastor's voice, the restless waterfrom stem
to.^stern added a mystical whisper of 'rknof::

ih^*' 1^"^*?' *^ ^ P^^y" ^"^ the general welfare of
the colony drew to a close, Vytal, who had been sta^^d
mg on the outskirts of the circle, his h^d tewed a i"
bared, ra.sed his eyes to the preacher. Then from
he mm.ster's uplifted gaze and hands outstra h3
m bened.ct.on, his glance wandered to the back

fZlf>t '"''P'^"' fi^"^'^^' ^^^^^ faces as they
rose at the conclus.on of the service, were distinr.ll
v.s.ble. Soldiers were there, and gentlemen^S
mers, planters, and cooks, musiciLs, caro^nters

circle, a 1 ttle knot of women and children. Toward
these Vytal turned his gaze. They seemed workers
of a spell-co-workers with the murmurous sea, and
the^vague shadows, .n subduing and softening the

Vytal started and instinctively stepped forward
The whole scene had dissolved now, salX o^prt
dom.nant figure. Seemingly as though merdy to
fomi a background for her, these men and women
knelt there; as though to shine upon her alo^ he
anthorn ^^d been hung above her head; as though
the shad.,vs, danng not to cro.ss her, were there t
obscure all other faces that hers migAt be the bettc
seen; as though to her the sea whispered for It
alone could understand
in wf4es°^ '""t'onless, watching her with hunger

Her beauty, of that rare kind which disarms criti-
cism even while suggesting it, was not a^ash to
startle fleetingly the observer, but a subtle charm
54

A Tale of the Lost Colony

with all those deeply suggestive qualities of form
andfeature which weave themselves into the very
heart of memory. Hers was no brilliant contrast
ot color m hair and brows and cheeks, but rather a
perfect harmony. The light brown of her hair blent
with her hazel eyes and with the fine straight lines
above them. Her color came and went with each
change of expression, like the transitory flush of
earliest morning; but generally her face was of a
clear cream tint, which died away softly in the russet
hair.

The worshippers were now separating, and she
by the side of a thin, weak-looking man, who, from
Marlowe s aescription, was probably her brother
came near to Vytal.

He stepped back into a dense shadow, tumine
half away. *

"Nay," he heard her say, coldly, "you know I
would be alone oftentimes at evening. Sohtude and
reverie are indispensable to some natures, and mine
IS one of these. I shall be safe, and if need be you can
fmd me when you will up there in the stem." With
that she left her companion. But at first Vytal
could not bring himself to follow her. She had ex-
pressed a wish: it was his law. Yet, as the min-
utes went by, seeming hours, he began to grow fear-
ful lest some harm should befall the girl, and so set
out m quest of her.

There, on the top deck, that she might have no
roof above her head, but only the sky, she stood lean-

^L?T il^" ^""^Zt'^ '*"'* gazing down into the
water far below. This bulwark, although much
Wer and navrower than those of the Spanish type
which on galleys were sometimes three or four fU
Uuck, waUing in the lofty stems like castle ramparts
was. as may be imagined, no unstable s. port for
S5

John Vytal

so light a burden. Nevertheless, Vytal, considering
the possibility of a sudden wave causing the ship
to lurch violently, and wanting this or any other
excuse, no matter how preposterous, to render justi-
fiable his intrusion on her desired solitude, stepped
to the girl's side.

She turned slowly toward him, and, stroking back
a lock of hair from her forehead, looked up into his
face. " And so you are truly here in fle-sh and fell,"
she said, with a certain wonder, yet no surprise, as
though her thoughts had noi been interrupted, but
rather realized, by the actual appearance of their sub-
ject. It was as if she had known, with no need of
ordinary information to give her knowledge. And
strangely enough her lack of surprise brought Vy-
tal no astonishment, but only a slight perplexity
and gladness. He had dimly surmised that she
would know, but could not explain the reason of her
intuition. And yet, while wanting words, he only
gazed ai her, a look of regret crossed his face.

"You seem not overjoyed. Mistress Dare."

To this .she made no answer, but withdrew her
eyes, and he saw their long lashes almost touch her
cheeks as she looked down once more into the water.
"I implore your pardon," he said, a low note of pain
in his never-faltering voice. " But I had not deemed
your reverie so sacred. 'Twas a man's rough error,"
and he turned away.

"Stay. In going you are guilty of the only error.
I would not have you leave nie with the word ' ingrate '
on your lips. Nay, make no denial. I must, L.
truth have seemed ungrateful. " She fully believed
— and perhaps there was vanity in the supposition
— that he had followed her, that even the ocean's
breadth had not deterred him, and the belief deprived
her somewhat of her perfect self-command. She was
56

A Tale of the Lost Colony

looking up at him now, her hazel eyes wide open, help-
less in expression and for the moment like a child's.
"I have not yet said 'I thank you.'" He made a
deprecatory gesture. " No," she persisted, with a
glance more free. ''Oh, why are brave men ever
thus, turning away when we would offer them our
feeble words of gratitude, while they who merit not
a smile of recompense bow low, and wait, and wait,
for unearned thanks? Yet what can I say? That
you are a knight worthy of the name? That I have
never seen a nobler play of arms? That you saved
my — honor? And then, after all this, am I to re-
peat ' I thank you, I thank you,' as I would to some
fop stooping for my fan."

" Faith," he returned, " 'tis the duty of some to
pick up fans; 'tis but the duty of others to — "

"Defend a fashionable ruff," she concluded, smil-
ing, "against lawful shears. Yes, I suppose you
would put it that way. 'Twas such a little thing —
so trivial— a rapier against scissors! Oh, perhaps
I am wrong " — her tone grew bantering to cover her
recognition of a certain grim power in the man. " It
may be you boast by the mere belittlement of your
action. The most arrant braggadocio lies often in
a mock-modest 'It was naught,' a self-depreciative
silence. Thank you, then, sir, for the timely pres-
ervation of my ruff." And she laughed, as the rip-
ples under the bow were laughing, with a fairy mu-
sic. Yet a tone of sadness, deep as the sea, under-
lay the feigned amusement in her voice.
"The ruff was a flower's calyx," he said.
" Nay, now, that ill-fits you, sir. I had not thought
to find flattery from such an one." She raised her
eyebrows with unaccustomed archness, as though
by look to maintain her usually perfect dignity,
which her words, vhether she would or no, seemed
hi

John Vytal

bent on frittering away. "Why, 'twas far better
put by the villain who insulted me: 'A bud's outer
petals fallen,' or some such pretty speech. And
you but steal his—"

"Nay, madam, you know well it was—"

"Oh, original, then— 'tis little better. So readily
conceived a metaphor has doubtless been made a
hundred times concerning ruffs. You pay the best
compliments with your sword. No, no; be not so
crestfallen. We are but newly met, that's ail. You
do not understand-^forgive me. Master— how now
have I not yet learned your name?"

"'Tis John Vytal."

"John Vytal," she repeated, slowly. "It were
easy to play on the name and show its meaning, but
to them who ve seen you I doubt not it needs no in-
terpretation." He would have questioned her then
but she hastened back to the first subject "One
thing piques my curiosity— the manner of your es-
cape Were the retainers of Sir Walter Raleigh so
speedy to bring you succor?"

"No, I saw them not. Once you had gone I stayed
no longer.

"Stayed no longer?" She opened her large eyes
very wide m surprise.

;;Nay."

" You speak as though you could have left at will "
The will was there, madam."

"But the way-the way?" she demanded, impa-
tiently. "^

"And the way, too."

"Your brevity is badinage," she declared, with
an imperious toss of her head.

1^ Your badinage cruelty," he returned.

"Oh, you are not all silence and swordsmanship "

she laughed, with a trace of the persistent raillery

58 ^

A Tale of the Lost Colony

in her voice. "But I have asked you concerning
your way of escai*."

"From the cruelty?"

"No." The word came impatiently, as though
she were wholly unaccustomed to resistance. " I
see you parry in more ways than one." And her
fingers played about the hood-clasp beneath her
chin.

"Less hopefully in one way than another. Mis-
tress Dare."

At this her manner, curiously changing, became
graver, the assumed archness and petulance for the
moment leaving her. "You speak of cruelty," she
said, in a very low voice, again uming to gaze
down at the sea, "and of hope. Sometimes, Cai)-
tain Vytal, they are synonymous;" and then, be-
fore he could make rejoinder, she added, quickly,
"I pray you tell rae of the escape?"

" 'Twas through a window overlooking the
Thames," he an.swered, in bewilderment. "And I
swam ashore."

"Ah, I see. I thought perhaps you had followed
us through the porter's lodge."

"No; the way was blocked."

"Tell rae," she asked, "was it your plan, our
reaching safety as we did, or Master Marlowe's?"

"Neither his nor mine."

"Neither! Whose, then?"

" At least, in a way, neither. You see, I remem-
bered the story of the porter's lodge. In 1554 Wyatt
gained that building by mounting to the leads of an
adjoining house, and thus made his way onto the
bridge. Hence I knew there must be passageway
to the Bankside."

"And you remembered even while your sword
demanded so much attention? "
59

John Vytal

"It came to ray mind."

She smiled with a kind of wonder in her eve. „r,A
then a hint of irony. "Of course the pUn w^ not
yours-.t was clearly Wyatt's "

"Another rebel's," observed' Vytal for the fir«.

srxf ,.""" "" "•« ""' • ^°' •"

"Rebel? How mean you rebel?"

mi^^'worS"''"' " ^^^ ""^ ^^'^ ^ •- «t «J<1«
"For instance, to rebel against bear-baitincr "

trdlV^' /'~? «' *^™ sire;a^r^'.I
heard of that, and recognized the rebel from descripl

"Readily, madam, I doubt not. They caUed me
a^lo^g, lean wolf, a grizzled terror, with^Susu™?

.And very truly," he averred,

■■?„£,"' , Jr„:r* ■ ""tadictory opu™."

'You wound me. Mistress Dare "
" A A 1° '""'''' vanity?" she queried.

unco^oiSbir-s;: ^j^c:^^ t
srmT;:in.^'"^'^°^ ^'^ -- ^-^ ^^

VytS"" '"''"''""^ '' "^ ^°"^ °^« «^king. Master

an'gL''' ' thai one"'^''*;!,' ""' If'^"^'^' '" « '<">^ -^--t
angry, that one with such a face, such a voice

60 '

A Tale of the Lost Colony

could be so unkind," and once more he started as if
to go.

But she put out her hand with a detaining gesture.
Her manner again grew serious, more hke the deep,
far-reaching, silent sea than its near-by surface,
flurried by the ship.

"Oh, forgive me again I It seems as though I
must ever ask forgiveness from you — from you to
whom 1 owe so much. Believe me, there is a wom-
an's heart beneath all this— I have not said that to
any man— 'tis my reward to you— and the woman's
heart knows pity— that, too, is a reward— make
what you can of it." She was speaking tremulously
now. "Only— remember— that hope is cruel— that
a httle pain may avert a deeper suffering— this was
my intention— believe me, I pray thee believe, John
Vytal— I am deeply grateful underneath the mask.
Fate brought us together in a moment. And then
you followed — followed, I suppose—" she hesitat-
ed, her breast heaving and tears gathering in her
eyes.

"No," declared Vytal, anxious in his bewilderment
to console her as best he might, and looking down
at her for the first time as at a child. "No, I knew
not you were coming. I believed that I was saying
farewell."

The tears lingered on her lashes without falling.
An unreadable expression came into her face, wheth-
er entirely of relief, as Vytal thought, or with a slight
trace of regret and shame, deep-hidden, she herself
could not have told.

"I thought you had found out," she almost whis-
pered at last.

" Nay, I had no chance to seek you. I was pledged
to come. Otherwise I would have sought till—"

"Stay," she exclaimed, imperatively, "you must
6r

JoJin Vytal

not speak sol"— and then, in lower tones— "but if
of my coming you had no knowledge, is it not vet
more the work of Fate?" 8 - «=> u noi yet

"Or of God,"

"Nay, God is good." There was naught in her
voice now save sadness blent with doubt "Per-
haps I misread a face-perhaps a name is but a
name, and stands for nothing— perhaps— Oh sir
IS It wrong lo speak only in riddles? What have
we said? What has led us to so strange a conv^!
sation in so short a time? Come, let us talk of the
voyage, the sea, the all-pervading night. The night
conceals so much, being merciful, but when the day
comes all this mercy and mystery will go-these
ocean whispers, this unutterable darkness, the stars
the moon even the scent of the salt will be understood.'
We shall say 'tis healthful, invigorating, and no
more; but tonight it is the subtle odor of some sea-
forest m a world below, or of flowers in a coral glade
Tomorrow the ship will be of wood and iron, whereas
tonight-who comprehends this long, slow-moving
^adow and those silver, moonlit wings above that
bear it forward to some far haven of dreams? To-
night we are spellbound; in the morning, if the
wind still sleeps, we shall call the spell a calm " She
paus«l, arid, leaning back against the bulwark, still
looked up into the mist of shrouds. The moonlight
ensilvering each listless sail, fell full ujwn her face'
giving the unshed tears an Orient lustre, and the
cheeks a pallor of unreality. Under the edge of her
hood the moonbeams strove to make their way but
could not, and so the gentle but less timid breeze
brought down a strand of her hair to turn it paler
and more ethereal, till it, too, was no, more than a
moon-spun thread. Her little hands were clasped
together and her lips just parted, as though she were
62

A Tale of the Lost Colony

about to answer some voice that she alone could
hear.

"You are a spirit," said Vytal.

And then— then she laughed, and the laugh, al-
though fraught with sadness, transformed her in-
stantly. She became a child with it, a sweet, lov-
able, beautiful child — all reality, innocence, and
health. The laughter in her liiw converted these
fastnesses of expression to its playground, and, romp-
ing, chased away all visionary looks. Her cheeks,
dimpling, lost their i)allor in a blush. One hand
smoothed back the straying lock, the other drew her
ho(xl yet lower, while her hazel eyes looking up from
under it seemed to jiossess the magic brown of a
russet-bedded brook with sunlight playing beneath
its surface— and the sunlight was this wonderful
transforming laughter.

" You are a child," he declared, with more of pas-
sion in his voice and less of silent wonder. 1 he tone
startled her; the grave look came back into her face,
and she stepped from the moonlight into the shadow
of a sail.

"Nay," he said, w^ith an incomprehensible sad-
ness in his voice. "Now you are a woman. The
sky and the sea are no more changeable."

"A woman," she whispered, compressing her lips
and turning white, as though nerving herself for a
strenuous effort of will — " a woman, and— and — but
no, wait, sleep, dream, and dreams will bring you
happiness — look you, the sky seems clear — the sea
is tranquil. Yet come!"

With a hand on his arm she drew him across the
deck into the dense shadow of the rigging. "See,
it is but a step from light to darkness, and then-
look— the sky!"

He followed the direction of her gaze, and saw
63

John Vytal: A Talc ofthc Lost Colony
again the long ridge of cloud, from behind which the

ng low he k,ssed the fingers, and then! holdingS,
n h.s firm grasp, looked down into her ^yes as thoS
to read the.r meaning if he could. But stiH maZ^
no answer in any way, she trembled. His m^e b^
wdderment and uncomprehending pain wc^e Worn
ing unendurable to her. ^°"''

/i„«nv' iTf/'^'i. '* »*^^ •'•"'^^'" «he whispered,
d^^f^; [ '" ''""""' """''y^' I cannot see Urn

the storm ourselves; >t comes whate'er we do then
perchance"-she was forcing a show of ch«^?u£
into her manner-" perchance, after all, you mav^t
mmd so much. Good-night, oh. good-nQ^Cd
before he could realize it her hand was w thdrawn

CHAPTER III

"Such reasotu make white hh U
And dark night day."

-Marlowb, in Edmird t,u- ^. ,.n.'

ui ine room ot stale, he saw beneath a hangine lamn
of tahan workmanship a face that so start^Si hZ
as to command his whole interest anfatSS U
was the face of Sir Walter St. Magil SZki
agam. to prove his first glance corrl:t, andthenS

worrrde"'h"„'''"'''"iT-^"^--"^' «"''h-S

ad«,uate darkneJ, ,rom''al%?:a^frerti^
whole cabin and hear the sentences of his kte an-
agon.st, he waited; for an oath from F^rd^ando

M grberfelfthtc^ "r"°"'"^ .esturetoTst:
v^Stion! '* importance of their con-

dylar! S:\^^" ^'"^ "^"i^ "^ ^ sailing-master."

fore him on the table; " I mLr ?h^e t^Si^
05

John Vytal

strongly." At this St. Magil's face, scarred upon the
left cheek, from the dagger which Vytal had flung
at him, and blighted yet more evilly by the indrawn
eye, grew scornful and supercilious.

"Ob, an you are so faint-hearted," he returned,
" we must bide our time. 'Twill matter little in the
end to us, but to you, now," and he leaned forward
across the table impressively, "it will matter more.
'Twere well, though, to discuss the thing in Span-
ish; even the arras hath ears."

" Matter to me. Sir Walter — how so?" queried the
master, confonuing with the other's suggestion re-
garding their speech. But Vytal fortunately un-
derstood the foreign tongue, thanks to many a cam-
paign against the Spaniards.

St. Magil hesitated and looked away '•'■th a cal-
culating air, then, smiling, replied lightly, "Well,
say to the tune of a thousand crowns."

Ferdinando's small eyes glistened like a rat's.
"On your word. Sir Walter?"

"On my word, Simon, a thousand crowns if the
boat arrives not in Virginia." There was emphasis
on the condition.

"'Tis done, then."

" At an exorbitant price," added St. Magil. " But
we pay it willingly. 'To-night, then " — his voice sank
so low as to be almost inaudible to Vytal at the open
window — "to-night, then, we leave them behind.
The fly-boat's pilot, another of my beneficiaries, will
play havoc with her steerage -gear. This is their
chart, which I procured. The plan has been well
arranged. 'Tis for you to clap on sail and leave
them."

"Mary save me!" exclaimed Ferdinando, shud-
dering. "I fear they will perish."

"Nay, good Simon, this Bay of Portugal holds
66

A Talc of the Lost Colony

many ships, some of which will doubtless succor the
Hy-Doat.

"Or, being Spaniards, sink her!"

iu"^^\^^"^ '^ ^^*- '='^"'=^' I a"°w. I have told
the pilot, in case of attack, to surrender, proclaim

Sh " ""^ ^^^"'' ^"^ ^ ^^"^ ^^^ ^^*- f'"™

"And so," whispered Ferdinando, "deliver them
to a bondage worse than death."

St. Magil shrugged his shoulders. "It is but a
choice of evils, " he avowed. " In Virginia they would
fare yet worse. With them to strengthen it the col-
ony would resist our men from St. Augustine, where-
as now 1 look for a quick surrender. There will be
no light.

"We lead our countrymen into a trap. Sir Walter
trOd forgive us!"

"Our countrymen!" ejaculated St. Magil "I
took you for a Spaniard, Ferdinando."

" By parentage only, " responded the master " But
you are an English knight."

"Ay English," allowed St. Magil, gnawing his
mustache with a row of yellow teeth, "and I would
save the English from their worst enemies. I mean
not Spaniards, but themselves." He rose from the
table, and, stretching his arms abroad, yawned aloud
A thousand crowns," muttered Ferdinando, "or
say five hundred, the other half being laid aside for
masses for my soul."

St. Magil laughed sleepily. "It might pay," he
drawled to turn priest, if all else failed," with which
he leaned for^vard on the table, being in truth over-
come by fatigue, and, with his face between his out-
stretched arms, was soon breathing heavily
Ferdinando left the cabin.

Vytal, eluding him, entered it. The room was a.
67

John Vytal

long one, considering the si^e of the ship. Its walls
hung wiih arras, creaked occasionaUy - the ve^l
pitched and rolled, but the creaking, muffled by ihe
heavy hangings, sounded ghost y and added to the
gtoom which the wavering lamp m no way d»s,^lled^
Vytal stood over St. Magil, h.s lank, stern figure
seeming like the form of Death in Death s own room,
ms da?k, oUve cheeks were pallid and drawn, h.s
hand tensely gripping the hilt of his rap.^. the so.
called "bodkin." And his eyes, cast down on the
sleeper, held disdain mingled with their fury.

But Vytal only gazed and ga^ed at the treacher-
ous soldier beneath h.m, until at last, withdrawing
his gaunt hand from the rapier-hilt, he held it with
o,x;n palm above the other's shoulder, as though, by
awakening his enemy, to throw away his own ad-
vantage that both might meet on even terms, but
his eye fell on the crude chart which Ferdinando
had been examining. Silently he folded it and con-
cealed it inside the breast of his doublet. Then as
if with an actual physical effort, he turned and left

the apartment. . , . ■ i

Thefly-boat, now cast off from the Admiral, slovr-
Iv fell astern, until her light seemed no more than a
will-o'-the-wisp and she a shadow piloted thereby in
whimsical manner. The sea fretted under a stifl-
ening breeze, and not a star shone. The Admtral,
although careening drunkenly, made good progress,
for obedient to shouted commands of Ferdinando, hei
crew were flinging aloft an unwonted spread of sail.
On deck Vytal met Hugh Rouse, whom he ques-
tioned tersely concerning the whereabouts of Koger

'^^ He is in the forecastle, captain, with King Lud,

*^'" Fetch him, Hurh. Quick!" And the giant,
68

^^kM'.Tai

■5?

4ImI

ir .

A Tale of the Lost Colony

with darkening brow, hastened forward. In a mo-
ment he had returned with his companion.

"Give full heed," commanded Vytal, glancing
sharply about to make sure he was unheard by others
"There is a plot afoct to desert the fly-boat. That
plot at all hazards must not be disclosed. We should
lose by immediate accusation, as we know not who
are loyal. My plan is this: I shall jump into the
sea; you two then give outcry as if a man by acci-
dent had fallen overboard. Ferdinando will of ne-
cessity heave to. In the mean time, as though dis-
tracted, fire a piece and blow on trumpets, as the sail
mg rule demands. Thus the fly-boat will have time
to come up to us, and then— but leave that to me."
He turned to one and the other to make certain of
their comprehension, and found it. They were ac-
customed, these two men, to their captain's succinct
commands in moments of emergency. But Roger
Prat stepped forward with an expression indicative
of disobedience. "Nay, captain," he said, with a
broad grin, "I am the hogshead and will float; 'tis
better so. Under your favor, I go myself. The out-
cry being thine, will have more effect." And before
Vytal could hinder him, the short, grotesque fellow
winking and wagging his head at Rouse, flung him-
self, with a loud cry, into the sea.

In three minutes the ship was in an uproar Men
ran hither and thither, fore and aft, in a confusion
of useless endeavor. The women, startled by the
commotion, gathered for the most part amidships
near the main-mast, while others, among whom were
the first to learn the cause of the excitement, sought
the high, castellated stem, from which they might
look off with straining eyes, intent on catching sight
of Roger Prat, who had already gained . videspread
popularity. Hugh Rouse, at a word irom Vytal
6j

John Vytal

went quickly to the master's mate, then at the helm,
and informed him of the occurrence. Without hes-
itation, the mate and his assistants put the helm hard
down, throwing the vessel into the wind. For an
instant she stood poised, a breathless creature, her
sails flapping, and then, minding her rudder still fur-
ther, started back over her course. In the mean
time, Rouse, who had hurried forward, gained the
poop, and, waving a torch he had procured from
one of the sailors, shouted with the full power of his
lusty lungs to the crew of the fly-boat.

" Fool," cried a voice behind him, " there is no need
of that !" Turning, he saw St. Magil peering out
across the water.

But the two ships were now rapidly approaching
each other. Seeing this. Rouse desisted and turned
to St. Magil with an agitated air, concealing sus-
picion fairly well, considering his honest, open coun-
tenance and utter incapacity for strategy. In this
the darkness aided him. " I know not what to do,"
he declared. " It is my friend who hath fallen over-
board." He held the torch high for an instant, so
that its fitful glare fell upon St. Magil's face, and
then, instinctively realizing that it might betray the
look of hate and distrust in his own eyes, he flung
it far out into the water. There was this about Hugh
Rouse which is rare in men of slow wit : he recog-
nized his disadvantage. " I thought. Sir Walter, that
you were in London."

"So I was," returned the sinister knight, "a few
days ago," and, suppressing an oath — for the fly-
boat, ha- -ng been alarmed by a flourish of trumpets,
was now within hailing distance — he hurried away
to seek Simon Ferdinando,

But Vytal had forestalled him. Immediately after
Prat's prompt action, he lumself had gone quickly
70

A Tale of the Lost Colony

to the master. "The unfortunate man," he said,
"is one of my followers. With your permission!
Ferdinando, I go to his rescue myself. The least
we can do is to lower the shii)'.s Ixjat. "

Simon, evading hi.s glance, looked hesitatingly
at the choppy sea. " I mislila- risking several lives,"
he .nuttered, as though to hiiiLsclf, with feigned pru-
dence, "for one man."

^^ "I will go, then, alone," avowed Vytal, quietly,
"or with one other. Here, Rouse," and he turned
to his lieutenant, who had joined him. "We go to
Roger's assistance." But still he looked at Ferdi-
nando, as if deferring to the master by awaiting his
assent. Simon, finding no plausible e.xcu.se for fur-
ther delay, and fearing to arouse the other's sus-
picions, made a pretence of ready acquiescence
amounting almost to eagerness.

As Vytal turned away he found himself face to
face with Marlowe. " I go with vou, ' ' said the poet

Vytal nodded. "Quick, then!" And in another
instant they had started out in the small boat upon
their errand of rescue.

The sea, running igher and higher, tossed about
the stanch ht(' ■ c. .t like a cockle- shell, but the
brawny arms o ' j three rowers, holding her stem
to the waves, managed to urge her slowlv forivard.
The fly-boat now lay alongside the Admiral, almost
within rope-throw, and both vessels hung as close
as could be in the wind, their bowsprits bobbing tip-
sily, their canvas half empty and rattling.

The rowers strained their eyes and hallooed loudly,
but there was no sight of the missing man nor any-
sound in answer save the flap, flap of the great
square sails, the rush of the wind, the crash of the
spray from broken foam-crests, and shouts from the
swaying decks.

Ill';

John Vytal

The rowers, now under the Admiral's stem, were
pointing the nose of their sea-toy toward the fly-boat.
" Roger hath perished," said Hugh, hoarsely. " God
save his brave soul I"

And then, in weird contrast to the grave words,
there came to the ears of the three men a laugh and
an incoherent call out of tht lear darkness. It was
as though the blade of Hugh's oar had spoken. In
amazement the men ceased rowing and gazed toward
the black stem, from whose invisible water-hne the
sound had undoubtedly come. All steerage of the
cock-boat being momentarily neglected, she swung
round until a wave, catching her abeam, with all
but disastrous results, washed her yet nearer to the
grim hull. "Have a care!" cried the voice; "hold
offi" And the rowers saw a dark thing bobbing up
and down close to the ship. In another moment a
man, grasping the end of a long rope in his hand,
was clambering, with the aid of his comrades, into
the small boat. " Did ye not see," he said, immedi-
ately assisting at one of the oars, " that I grabbed a
hawser as I jumped? 'Twas made fast, thank the
Lord, somewhere amidshirw, and here have I been
dangling out behind as comfortable as can be—"
but his words belied him, for, even with the asser-
tion on his lips, his last remaining strength failed
suddenly, and the inimitable Roger Prat fell back
senseless.

"To the fly-boat— quick!" said Vytal.

The cockle-shell was now but a dancing shadow,
only a little darker than the sea to those who looked
down on it from the Admiral's stern far above. Yet
in the eyes of one man, at lea.':' hat riotous Wack
spot was a thing by all means t' jt avoided. " Simon,
it is the solution of our probk , ■ i That man you say
is John Vytal, and, I ad(' :..c most cursed mischief-
72

A Tale of the Lost Colony

maker under heaven. Had I known they were com-
ing, he and his slavish crew, we might have been
driven to no such pass. " The speaker lowered hi.
voice and went on as he had begun, in the Spanish
language. " But the chance is ours-yours^^

"Howinme?" The question issued with a shiver-
ing sound from the other's teeth.

S* M^' ^^tM• ""•" ''^""'"^"d crowns," returned
bt Magil, still loaning over the bulwark to gaze down
like an evil buzzard on the bobbing shadow beneath
him, and another thousand-and, if it must be
yet another thousand. " He turned, smiling, to no«
the effect of his offer. "All this if you iLve that
insignificant cock-boat behind us, and it comes not
sale to \ irginia. f

"It is impossible."
"Wherefore?"

"Captain Vytal is one of the governor's assistants.
The desertion will he reported, and I, Sir Walter
answerable to the lords of her Majesty's most hon-
orable privy council."

„,3°^' honorable idiots!" exclaimed the other
Tis easily explained. They are lost-we have
waited— we cannot find them— where are they? I
see no sign whatever of the boat," and, smilingyet
more blandly, he turned his back to the bulwark
.- ^^ f ■"' ^''^'^^ ^^ that— just turn your back "
Before God, I will not!" and Simon started away
as if he would end the matter there and then

" '^'T£"'1."° •?''K™"y ■" forsaking the fly-boat "
sneered St. Magil.

"Nay, for that at least can live But this pfav-
thing must surely perish if deserted in so rough a
sea. ^

"No, Simon, it will gain the flv-boat "
Ferdinando returned to the bulwark and looked
7i

John Vytal: A Tale oftlu Lost Colony

down once more at the object of their discussion.
He could see it battling now against great odds, for
the shadow made no headway in any direction and
both ships were slowly leaving it in their wake.

"Keep your purse. I'll not play the assassin for
you or any other man," .> id again the master would
have left. But he heard a nnick step behind him, and
turned suddenly. A slenu .-'wm crossed his sight,
and he felt himself pres.S', d ..^ck against the bulwark.
The menacing glimmei eemed to get into his eyes
and into his soul, bringing terror to both.

" For two thousand, then," he .said, hoarsely, " 'tis
done."

"Thank you, ray good Simon. Thank you, and
all this for turning your back."

There was a double meaning in the words, and Fer-
dinando shuddered at thought of it.

"We will go now and give orders to the mate,"
said St. Magi\—" together."

CHAPTER IV

"Whose eyes being turned to steel
Will sooner sparkle fire
Than shed a tear."

—Marlowe, in Edward th€ Second.

Eleanor Dare stood alone near the bulwark
of the fly-boat, her thoughts shapeless, until at last
a dark object, also without fonn, rose and fell on the
water within range of her unseeing vision. Slow-
ly her consciousness grew more acute, and the thinjj
became real to her. Slowly it took shape and be-
came a boat, a ship's cock-boat, contending with all
its little bravery against the waves. She heard,
with an increasing heed to them, the shouts of men
from the deck of the Admiral, and noticed for the
first time that the governor's ship, having stood back
upon her course, was now abreast of the fly-boat. But
soon her eyes, with a renewed attention to the real-
ities of her surroundings, saw the Admiral stand
away again to the westward. She perceived with
surprise that, considering the gale, the larger vessel
carried an unwarrantable spread of canvas; and
realized, not without alarm, that the fly-boat, if thus
outsailed for many hours, must soon be left astern
far beyond the regulation distance. And as to the
.small boat: was its present plight merely the un-
fortunate result of an attempt to bring some message
from one ship to the other, or was it the outcome
of a fell design on the part of Ferdinando? This
last su»picion in Eleanor's mind was not without
75

iil

John Vytal

foundation, for she had already entertained misgiT-
ings.

Suddenly a yet graver fear came to her. For the
fly-boat's pilot, who at first had luffed his vessel up
into the wind, imitating the example of the Admiral's
master, now sent her plunging ahead again, paying
no heed to the rowers, who struggled vainly in the
fly-boat's wake. Realizing this, Eleanor, at last
fully aware of the smaU boat's predicament, and
alive to the demands of the moment, hurried aft to
remonstrate with the helmsman. She was not cer-
tain that the pilot's intentions were treacherous, nor
that the cock-boat had been seen. Furthermore,
being ignorant of the rowers' identities, she sup^
posed them to be but mariners of the Admiral's crew.
But they were men elevated for the moment to a
position of supreme importance by mortal danger, the
leveller of all degrees.

With good policy, on her way aft, Eleanor gave
the alarm to all she passed, and thus brought many
with her to the pilot. The latter, a burly seaman,
whose unkempt red haii and beard swathed his pock-
marked face like a flaming rag, showed much as-
tonishment at seeing a number of his passengers,
led by a woman, excitedly running toward him, as
fast as might be, considering the lurch and reel of
the clumsy ship.

'"There is a small boat as'em of us," said Eleanor,
arriving first at the helm. " Ferdinando must have
forgotten her. There hath been some m-stake."

The pilot turned, with a grunt of incredulity, and
glanced off in the direction of her outstretched hand.
"I see naught," he returned, gruffly. " 'Tis an il-
lusion of the sight."

But at that instant a voice came after them over
the water from the darkness far astern. They heard
76

A Tale of the Lost Colony

but a feeble note, an inarticulate sound, yet the voice
of Hui(h Rouse, stentorian and resonant, had flung
out the incoherent cry from his great lungs in full
power, to beat its way against the wind. With con-
stantly failing strength it overtook the ship and died
a mere whis)x:r on eager ears. But there could be
no mistake ; a score of men had heard. For an in-
stant the pilot hesitated and glanced at the little
comjiany furtively under his fiery beetle-brows. Then,
with a hoar.se command to his crew, he shoved the
helm hard down, and once more turned the fly-boat
into a stupid, tentative thing, hanging in the wind,
drowsily expectant and jKjised in awkward fashion,
like a fat woman on tiptoe looking for her child.

And the child went to her slowly with faltering
steps. Tumbling over the ridges of water and picking
herself up again, nothing daunted, the cock-boat
came finally into view. In a few minutes the rowers
were on the ship's deck. Vytal, whose sinews were
of steel, and Hugh Rouse, a great rock of hardihood,
showed small fatigue, but Roger Prat, who had just
recovered consciousness, leaned heavily against the
bulwark, striving to force a jest through chattering
teeth, while the water still dripped from his clothes.

Marlowe stood afmrt, seemingly all - forgetful of
his exertion, his dark eyes intent on the face of
Eleanor Dare.

Many torches, now, in the hands of inquisitive voy-
agers, were throwing lurid streaks of flame across the
gloom. Their light fell full upon Eleanor, revealing
to the poet a realization of his dream. In all the rich
colors of his limitless fancy he had pictured her often
to himself since the night of their flight from London
Bridge. The picture now was corjmrate, and Fancy
inadequate before the Real. The many proffers of
assistance, the come and go of hasty figures, the
77

; . <}'

f II

MfOOCOPY DESOIUTION TEST CHAUT

(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 21

^ APPLIED IIVVIGE In

^r" 1653 Eo,l Uo:n St..el

— ^ FJochesler, Ne* York U609 USA

'■^— ("5) 483 - OJOO - Phone

^S '''6) 388 - 5989 -Fax

John Vytal

^^lc^n,notiona„dcur.„s.ty.ere,osttoMar-

a,.;ili:hedtraS !ZT"'T '''' ^'^-^>"^''- ^e
As though •nv^i;"r;f''''"T '^^ """■^■. '^««--d low.
ana ..L ^'^S---,^;^

com" '" "' ''"'"^^ ^^^'^ ■' '"J I -' "-'" you I Height

guidance of ours epTndtn 'If^'"^''^ '" "«

ourselves yet who w^,n ^"""^""S "'"'. we blame

rx>selessa„dMse7'' """'^'' "'^ ''^^^^^ «« P"-

thfsteSoT.XTo"; '' '"'' ''"*.'°°'^'='' °ff —

and the 'S''"7tfuT"^3re'"VTr^^^^^
half to herself, "that we sh.l' h-fv. '''"' "^ ''^"s"''
plain against the teLe "rtl? T f'^T ''? '*^'"-
thought a storm menfced o.I"alate Ih'^'',/
t.s a hazardous voyage at best. I wonder fh^^ "' '
who we,e not forced to come, shou.rcott Jotry

, ijuiLL. 'iy, madam, tis force anH (>,,. I, j

7°

-1 «u" ■^i;*tfabi; «BSi

A Tale of the Lost Colony

ftckless pleasure crossing his face; "with glitterine
danger so woven through the warp and woof of future
days as to scxluce a man's best wisdom and seem a
golden lL>ece. We court the danger for the dan-
ger s sake His words came as an urdertone to
her thoughts, disturbing, but not breaking, abstrac-
lon, until suddenly, as if with an impulse, he ques-
tioned her. "I would fain ask you. Mistress Dare
concerning your <lep:irture that nighc froni South-
wark, and your friend in the barge, a man-" he
broke off, for he had put the question with no need
of further inquiry.

iC^^""^ 'LT''''^ answered," she replied, never-
heless, with hesitancy. "You see, I durst not re-
turn to I ambeth through the borough, and thus ex-
^v'f."il ''^n'" '" ''^"Ser, although I knew that

my father would entertain misgivings and gra^•e
fears for my safety. When you know him better
you will recognize his deep solicitude for every per-
^XV ' ^"'^ '"""'' '""''•"' **"■'"' ^"' •''" '^'"^Sh-

"Know him better!" exclaimed Marlowe, in sur-
prise. But I have never seen him. "

"Indeed, you must have met him. My father is
the governor of this colony-Governor John White "
. ". ,1^°"'" '^J^'^ulated the poet, in bewilder-
ment, "are Mistress Dare."

"Being the wife," she declared, with an almost
imperceptible tremor m her voice, "of Master Ana-
mas Dare, one of my father's twelve assistants It
was he who came in the barge that night on his w^ay

plight, decided to retrace his way with me to London "
A wife! and then Marlowe said a strange thing,

hL i r\^'"?, '' •"-"'""'' '^""Sht that rushed U,
him on the heeis of his first shock. " It will kill him "

V-

John Vytal

He was speaking of another man even in that mo-
ment— thinking and speaking of another man I'or
the intensity of that otlier, the naked soul, the doni-
mant will the inexorable fatality were compelling
by sheer force, the homage of his immediate circle
It was simiily the irresistible i»wer of a great char-
acter at work. And there is no human influence so
near omniscience.

She paid no heed to his low exclamation, but, with
a few irrelevancies, left him.

lie had but little time to seek thf .eaning of her
abrupt departure, for at this moment Vytal joined
^"l^'^i^'^'fy'l'-'^i'^d the facts regarding the plot
of St. Magil. The ,«et showed more surprise on
hearing of St. Magil's presence than on ha\ing his
instinctive suspicions verified concerning Ferdinan-
do s treachery.
"Dost thou know the extent of this treason?" he

"Nay, therein lies the rub. The pilot is doubtless
far from clean-handed, and, for aught we know, sev-
eral others among us, in greater or less degree, con-
spire to work our ruin."

HT '^,?'" '^^^'^'^^'^ Marlowe, thoughtfully, "in St
Magil s words, as you o'erheard them, I seem to hear
the whisper of a wide conspiracy in which even the
Spaniards of St. Augustine will play their part But
tell me, would not decisive action here and now de-
teat them more surely than cautious measures?"
I think not," rephed the soldier, turning in the

,f?i'°" "' approaching footsteps. " Who comes ?"

_ 1 IS 1, captain, a wet dog, at your service."
Uet you below, Roger, for wannth, and a change
of gan,:enls. *=

"'Tis impossible, sir; such as I find adequate at-
tire most difficult to borrow. Hast never seen me in
80

A Tale of the Lost Colony

a nuxlcratf cl.mUcf' The si^lu, tlicy sav, is worthy
ot a stajre play, Mom.vcr, tlio ,.,i,v wan.uli of in-
tc-Tost now hcs in the ovon of Shcol, whcTun, -lis ,ny
ardent hope, Master Pilot will soon be roasting by
your coniinaiul. '

Vytal smiled. "Justice demands patience," I,e
said. Do you, then, seek Hugh, bidding him l'o
jmionK the marmers with eyes and ears awalce And
ldvewi.se make investiKation for your.self. I'-md an
you can the limits .,f the plot, map out .t.s course,
survey the held. H„iik proofs. 'Tis better so "

Justice! muttered Ro^er U> himself, starting
away- Us always justice!" J„ining Rouse, he
thrust his hand Ihrouuh the bi^ .soldiers arm "A
stoup of hquor, lluKh, will loose my tonKue, and fit
It well for questions. 'Tis to be all questions now
and never an answer from our lips. Bi^ lout, think'st
thou It IS m thee to hint a query and induce reply with
never a trace of eaKerness? \ay, but follow me
lung Lud s Lord Chancellor-IIea\ en preserve his
forsaken iMajesty-ay, sirrah, follow me, and praise
good fortune for the chance. Be mute. Keep tongue
tetwcen teeth, and thy great paw well wilhm a league
o sword-hilt. And so the garrulous Prat ran on
alter his usual important manner, until they had
gained the forecastle.

In the mean time Vytal and Marlowe, near the
main-mast, were striving, by discussion and induc-
tion, to obtain a more comprehensive grasp of the
situation. The .soldier had long suspected St Alagil
ot treasonable intrigues, the nature of which how-
ever, was undiscoverable. In the Low Countrv
camps for the last three years there had been rumors
of treachery, with which Sir Walter's name had been
vaguely associated. Some had o,x;nlv pronounced
him a spy in the pay of Philip of Spain, while others
F 8l

!i#^'

John Vytal

had as (irmly declared him loyal to Henry and Eliza-
beth.

"\Vc are his match at least in sword-play," ob-
served Marlowe, finally. " 'Twas proved conclusive-
ly U|)on the bridfre."

"We are his match," returned Vytal, with a quiet
confidence, "in all things."

"I trust we may i)rove this, too," said the poet,
regardin;,' his companion with marked admiration.

"We shall."

It was now nearly midnight, and the wind left a
long, rolling sea, in which the lly-lx)at lay wearily,
like a landsman in a hammock, uncomfortably asleep.
The decks were deserted save for the burly figure of
the iiilot at the helm, the two shadows near the main-
mast, and a ghost-like sailor here and th -re on watch.
The Admiral's dim light had gone down over the
horizon.

"Desolation," muttered Marlowe. "All ae.sola-
tion. It seems as though the God — if God there
be — were slee])ing."

'' There is a God," said Vytal, simply.

The poet smiled sceptically, and would have re-
joined at some length, but a cloaked figure came to
them out of the darkness. It was Eleanor Dare.
Marlowe started back as though struck without
warning, and turned to Vytal with a jealous look.
But the glance of enmity passed as quickly as it
came, leaving only decj) affection and sympathy in
the poet's face. Instinctively he made as though to
withdraw, and they, to his regret, offered no remon-
.strance. "You will find me." he said, "with the
steersman. It may be well to watch him closely."
And he left them.

"Captain Vytal," began Eleanor, "you must act
with all speed. Indeed, I know not but lliat even
82

A Tale of" the Lost Colony

now I am i,^ late," DespUo her ominous words,
.she was speaking coldly, with a calmness almos
mec-hanica , VVe are m the hands of traitors i^aid
by bi)am. '

"f know it well. Mistress Dare."

"You know it?"

" Ves ; " and he told her very briefly the facts will,
in his knowledge.

fMli'fnlT'" {^"'hat St. Magil withheld the
f. II truth from lerdinando. There is a conspiracy
aloot to land us on the coast of Portugal IJefore
morning some twenty men in Sir Walter's pay will
come ufx^n the deck and oven.ower the mariners now
here. 1 te 1 you, m order that j-ou may summon as
many soldiers hither from below, and .save us "
1 thank you," he said, "but it cannot be "
Cannot be I"
"Nay, for we know not who is loyal. My men
and r must meet the knaves alone "

r llu}^"""^ rf"''- ^"'^'W"^^ It is the second time
1 place your life in ix;ril."

"On the contrary, the .second time you make it
worth the living. But how came tliis knowledge
to your ears? ^

She hesitated only for an instant, and then an-
.swered him with an icy chill in her tone, "From
my husband."

"Your husband!" There was no tremor in the
voice, but only a harsh finality, like the sound of

lifetime seemed to drag itself ponderously by, there
was utter silence. ^

"Take me to Master Dare," said Vytal, at last
mechanically. '■ We shall do well to confer together
concerning the matter." ^

She looked up at him with wonder and surprise
S,5

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

" You would see him?" she asked, as though her ears
had deceived her; then, with a new bitterntss: "I
fear you will gain but little by the interview. My
husband is" — her voice sank lower, with a nt)te of
deep shame in it, the shame of a great pride woundeti
— " is not himself." Then, turning, she led the wa.\-
down to a large cabin in which the captain and the
k'overnor's assistants were accustomed to hold con-
ference jxTtaining to the colony and voyage. "He
is there," and she left Vytal at the cabin door.

CHAPTER V

'. . . hath wronijed your country and himself,
And we must seek to right it as we may."

—Marlowe, in Edward the Second.

Entering immediately, Vytal found the room
empty save for one man who sat before a Iohr table
in a peculiar posture and apparently half asleep. A
silver flagon stood before him, its brim covered by
two almost feminine hands, whose fingers were in-
tertwined and palms held downward, as though to
conceal or guard the contents of the cup. His head
was bent forward until one cheek rested on the bjtck
of his clasped hands, while the other showed a central
flush on a background of white, delicate skin. The
man's eyes were not closed, but maintained their
watch on the door with an evident effort, ff)r the lids
blinked drowsily as though soon they must succumb
to sleep. The light of a three-branched candela-
brum, flickering across the table, showed a face nat-
urally fair, but marred by dissipation. The hair,
light brown and of fine texture, hung down over a
narrow forehead, and half concealed a well-formed
ear. The eyes, always first to suffer from inebriety,
showed but a trace of their lost brilliancy when the
effort to keep awake was strongest. There was an
aspect so pitiable in the man's whole attitude that
Vytal, his face softening, shrank back as though
to proceed no further with his interview. But over-
coming the first shock occasioned by .so weak and
85

! I

John Vytal

forlorn n ix-rsonality, the soldier wait fnrw.-.nl with
Knm deter „in;.ti..n. " Is this .Master Ananias Dare'"
he demanded.

"Yes," came the answer, falteriiiKly, "Master
Uare, at yonr serMce, " and the slim fellow, .■ittempt-
;;iK to r.se, swayed and fell hack anain into his chair

RouKh sea, he nn.ttercd "(;reat waves-mad
boat.

V.vtal <lrew a chair to the table, and movinc th-
candelabrum to one side, .sat down opjM.site the
drinlver. ' I come to inquire concerning a nl„t „f
which you have knowledtje. "

„ rP^if.'^'"'' "^ "''•'* ""^■•'^I'^'>^'"1 statement was curious
riot cxclauned. Ananias-", ,l„tl"a,id he lanrhai
a th.ck, uncomfortable LuikIi. ".\„w I know the
lx)at IS certauily mad. Who said 'plot '? Oh who
said plof?" His voi,:c, wailins, sank almost to a
whisper. I cannot Ixlievc it. I really cannot be-
lieve such extraornary statements. Have a cup o'
wme; 'tis wmc belies our fears. 1 thank thee cood
wme-I thank thee for .so great a courage. Oh
whosaid plot'?" and, lurching forward, he pushed
a great silver tcuikard towanl Vytal.

" 'Tis wine," returned the .soldier,' fixing his gaze
on the pitiful assistant, as though to force the words
home with look as well as voice, "'tis wine brings
danger. Another cup now, and mayhap you are
fatally undone. " He wished to play upon the other'.s
cowardice and turn, if he could, one weakness into
.strength to withstand another. The time was short
in which to elicit the desired information, and the
task not easy.

" Danger ! there's no danger to me !" declared Ana-
mas, unexpectedly. "Oh nay; how strange-danger
-none whatever! 'Tis not for this I drink so deep •
tis my wife— induces the condition!" His head fell
86

i it

A Tale of the Lost Colony

forward again to his liaiids, Ihiit v«\- cdvltoI an
empty cup. Quickly Vytal hid the hai. 'ull tankard
beneath the table.

" "I'is .she," said Ananias, again looking up sleej)-
ily, " my cousin, my peculiar \v:le. Why did 1 inurry
her — oh, why?"

Vytal 's face grew tense, the veins on his forehead
big like thongs.

"She IS different," ,)uisucd Dare— "so different!
'Twas the queen did it. 1 sued .so lung, so very
long, while Mistress Eleanor Wliite would have
none of me. And then, or.e day, coming to me hke
a child— yes, like u child," he repeated, weeping re-
morsefully, "she said; 'If thou'lt rest onteut with
friendship for a time, (lerchance in the coming diys
I'll learn to love thee, cousin, but now I cannot. My
father alone is in my heart.' Thiit was after the
queen had talked with her in private, and iKfore she
knew of my love for these big tlagons —mad Uagons ! ' '
He grasped the cup between his hands as though to
caress or crush it. " And I was .so wild of love and
jealousy that I said, 'Yes; I swear to be no more
than friend.' " He was retrospecting as if to hunself,
and paying no heed to the listener, whose struggle
for tne mastery of his own emotion had turned him
for the time to stone.

" I was so wild of jealousy, for there was my Lord
of Essex courting her— Oh, this boat— this boat—
'tis, in troth, mad— its reel gets 1 to my head - Ah,
why did she marry me? 'Twas because the quc.-n
promised that her father should come to \'irginia a id
be governor — her beloved father— instead of going to
the Tower for some trivial offence. And she was kind
to me, yet so cold that I durst not even touch her hand
— but then I grew more bra\e with wine. Her little
hand was mine despite remonstrance, the wine im-
87

John V'ytal

■•TJ.C plot I come t^ ■"?'""■'■ "^'^'"« '"'" >--'<
pallid a,s ,lcath. '' ''"'■'' '" "'^- l-'W*-'.

to her Hum y,u 1 „ , ""'■""^■"' ' ■'" "■' "-0

I care „-hen mL « ^' ,„ ^' „ ^^^ ^' ' -'-• -''V do
morse came into hiv .. ' ' "'^ '"■'"dim re-

eves "\\-h, ' "•' "«•"" "'"^ ""o his uaterv

'-><•''■ U hat mean you''' she -isL-,.,! ' K. """-'^J
geroiis?' 'Oh il„. ,.,r . 11 '■ "> "'ore elan-

said r ■ If ' '"' "■'" ™'i "« '"to Portugal '

■'•ami, ilott-comica And ther,.'ll Iw. , ','"«'"'

on deck lx.fore the daun to do^^ '^:.'^^''-'"'y ""■•"
traor'naryl'" "■ ^'^^ '"°st ex-

sweaV!]r.V''1 '^'"""^ ^«^'" to his feet "Wilt

t":;et"'^tr.veS:'i'2;;r""'"^^-'h«fi-'

Aay."
^How do you know it, then'"

"A"<iu-.l, not inform u^on your oath. Then you

«m»"«¥:«^'^'

Do you know that?"

A Tale of the Lost Colony

jeo|«,nl your own safety, Master Dare Silence now
IS eul|);il)le, treasonable."

"Oh no, no— what a mad tx.at-n.lhni; alx.ut so
—I, treasonable, how stranKe! Then III .swear an
yon will, 'twas the pilot."
" V'ou'll swear?"
"Most cerliiinly, I'll swear."
" Where are the I wen ty men?
"Nay, how should I know?"
"Did you not overhear the pilot tjivo directions?
I hmk you they are in the lorecastle?"
" N'o. not there-— not by any means there "
" In the hold, then, hidinj,'?"

"Ay, that's it. In the hold. Down in the irk
hold— oh, 'tis most uiicomfort;ible in the hold- ,iiat
a mad Iwat— rockintr so -always r.ockinf. 'Sdein'
Where '.s the tankard?" Kisiiii; unsteadilv, he lookal
about on the table in stupid suri)r'',se, then, sinking
biick again, mi.s.sed hi.s chair and fell heavily to the
fl(K)r. "Ah, 'tis here, the wine— such brave wine'"
and, crawling forward on his hands .md knees he
sat down half under the table, holding the tankard
to his lips. "Such courageous wine!"

Vytal went to the cabin door, "tleu-en guard
her," he prayed, and hastened to the stern Here
he found the pilot and Marlowe. With a gesture,
he drew the [niet aside, and in a few words made
known the truth.

"Tis against great odds," observed Marlowe his
eyes lighting u|), "that we fight again together."

"Nay," declared Vytal, "there shall be no fight.
Wherefore desecrate a rapier with so niggardly a
foe?"

Marlowe smiled. " The bodkin would fain stitch
only satin doublets," he remarked. "How, then,
will you defeat these hirelings'"

John Vytal

o™ Wl, so ■„ ,he ta,chinbo",L"hoM ,rC

«am the firsi man whose head apuears Lh if kl
he«l no, ,he warning, „n him IkSS^' ?£" a„

come but sinelv 'Tis WifJ^V, „ " ^"

stand them afl '' """ y"""" P°^'"^ ^^ '^"h-

• r°^ "" ''ETi'^' captain, well witWn it • but the wnrk
IS tame. They stand no chance "

t^II n'^'lT' "° "°°dshed if you can help it And

tell Hugh the same. At the sound of the whist"e

then, some time before daybreak " wnistle,

"Thank you " and Roger went his way

"i^ Wv. ' ^'i^^"^ ^'°"^" asked Marlowe.

him°!^r riiiTthT t: i^'^rnd^"*^^ -''- ' ^-
^■es of both foip-pS; ..htt 1- T,:::ij^i

be seen beneath the ship's lanthom. He waTwa"k
ing on t.ptoe, which gave him a grotesquTanpir
ance. and the end of his long scabterd was jusfvTs "
ble as he held ,t out behind him to prevent iU chap^

mar&the"L"? !'" t""' "^ I-"''- ^-^^'

m^JtSlnsiCl''^^^'- ^"'^^'^^ -ted for many
90

A Tale of the Lost Colony

I 'i^Mu"!,u''''^ ^"'■'''" ^"Sgested Christopher, at
last that the men are in their places. ' '

Vytal turned to him with a look of resentment
or more accurately, an expression of wounded pride.'
You know them not."

"Yea, well. But plans miscarry."

,u"^ u'f } ^T ''"°"' "°' ^^^ '"'^";" "''th which, as
though to deride the other then and therewith proof
of his absolute reliance, Vytal whistled the short note
shriller and louder than before. Even as it died away
there came a deep oath from the stem and a sound
as of metal clanking on the deck. In another second
there was a pistol-shot, then a desi,erate silence. " Let
us hasten cried Marlowe, " to their assistance I"

Nay, let us rather go and question the prisoner "
.u u!T^*'""" "^ confidence was fully repaid by
the sight that met their eyes. For there on the deck
near the helm, flat on his back, lay the bulky pilot'
so bound with a rope winding from head to foot that
he could not move so much as a finger in remon-
s rance^ As Vytal and Marlowe arrived on the scene
Hugh Rouse, smiling broadly, held a light over the
prone figure as though to exhibit his handiwork
A ceroon of rubbish," he said. "Shall we cast
him into the sea?
"Nay, let him lie here."

Vytal turned to the pilot's substitute at the helm

"'r '^i??""' *'''''='■ ^t the rt-quest of Roger Prat'

?ul ■ S"^"<^d, taking the lanthorn from Rouse

and holding it high, so that the rays fell athwart

the new steersman s face.

"Ay, loyal; the fly-boat's mate, sir, at your ser-

"What proof?"

"None, save this," and leaning forward he whis-
pered the name "Raleigh" in Vytal 's ear.
91

John Vytal

"Your own name?"
"Dyonis Harvie."

"He speaks truth," exclaimed Vytal, in an aside
to Marlovye. " Sir Walter Raleigh made mention of
the man." Then turning to the mate again: "To
Roanoke we go. Here is a copy of Ferdinando's
chart. You are master now. See you pilot us safe
and sound to the good port we started for. Heed no
contradictory orders. I am Captain John Vytal an
you need proof of my authority."

Harvie's honest face lighted up on hearing this,
his sunburned brow clearing with relief. " Sir Wal-
ter Raleigh bade nie seek you, captain, in case of
need. 'Tis well you come thus timely."

Vytal turned back to the prisoner. "Have you
aught ready in extenuation?"

The pilot's eyes opened slowly while he looked up
for an instant at his interrogator with sullen hate in
every lineament of his mottled face. Then his eyes,
blinking in the light, closed again, and his lips
tightened to lock in reply.

Vytal turned away indifferently. "And now to
Roger at the hatches ; but do you, Hugh, stay here
and guard the ])ilot," whereupon he led the way
toward the hold.

" 'Tis strange," observed the poet, " that we heard
no sound from Roger Prat." But Vytal, making
no reply, went forward, without so much as quick-
ening his pace.

Coming to the hatches, however, they found no
one, only a deep murmur of voices greeting them
ftom below.

"Ah," said Marlowe, who could not suppress a
small show of triumph on finding the other's sur-
passing confidence seemingly misplaced, "I said
'twould be well to make .sure your orders were ful-
92

A Tale of the Lost Colony

filled." And then, as the gravity of the situation
grew more apparent to him: "Forgive me; 'tis ill
timed. I fear the good fellow has come to harm.'^

But Vytal only laughed a short, easy laugh. " I
repeat once more, you know not the man. Throw
open the hatch. On guard I"

With only the delay of a second in which to un-
sheath his sword, Marlowe obeyed; and the dull
murmur of voices grew louder as it rose unimpeded
to the two above. But no one appeared in the hatch-
way.

"They lie in wait to entrap us," opined the poet,
and then, with a hand on Vytal's arm ; " Stay, 1 pray
youl It means certain death!" For the soldier
had stepped forward as though to descend.

Vytal smiled. "That night on the bridge you
counted not the cost. Your impetuosity, methought,
was gallant as could be. I go alone, then."

"Nay, nay, I stand beside you. Know you not
that Kyt Marlowe is two men— a dreaming idler and
a firebrand as well? Cast the firebrand before you,
an you will. 'Twill burn a path for you, I warrant,"
and with that the poet, now all impulse, leaped
toward the hatchway, brandishing his sword. But
this time Vytal's was the restraining hand.

"No; I but tried you. We are none of us to be
caught'in a stupid snare, if sna. e it be. " And bend-
ing over the hold, to Marlowe's astonishment, he
called for Roger Prat. Then, to the poet's still great-
er amazement, Roger's head appeared in the oi)en-
ing, and a fat finger beckoned Vytal still closer to
the hatch. „

"All's well, but show no mistrust of them; and

then aloud, that the men below might hear him, " Ay,

Captain Vytal, 'tis Roger and many others at your

sen'ice, eager for the frav:" whereat, looking back

Il I

John Vytal

with pikes and bearing £0^''''^ ^'''- «nneU
on their ar.„s. There wenf,^"'" ^'''^^'''' targets
and pistols. '^^"- "lanners, too, with dirks

" We are ready, you spo " „k
cov^t wink. "Ready anXea^tTT'f '^°^'=^' "''h a
^ Brave men all " saW V^. , '''-*"'' '^e ship "

cnptwithalooko'fg a ?tudr'^,™r't^ '^'^ ™"-
't -s too lalc. The rank ^ ■ ' ^^^"^ ^O"- But

^ho pilot a captive, ?oVh!m°" r "''"''^''^ "'"'^^"-"^
out m no small me;sure V 'T'^ '^^^ ^ "leted
[o fight, but your Se J."" ^"^ '"^^ '^e chance
be forgotten.'- '"'' "^''^^^ m^, shall not sZ,

caS;;;^;\t rst^ i '^; 'a^t words that
Twill be well," resumed V* Ae deck confusedly
■ ''to 'eaveyour'armsheS,^''c^''T^'°°^^«'P«l'
tempt to surprise us Perch". "^ ''"°'h" ^^11 at^

'he alarm, and so your weat"'/ ^°" "l'^''' "<" ^ear
would be lost to US. H^re we ; ' ^^'^ ^^^^ ^O".
hands of those who hasten fi'f'! ^7u ^^'"^ *° 'he
hid you good-night." ^' '° '^e defence. I

dowrthtTm's''^ n wks"tL"f r'.''^^"^"-- ^-d

o prove their good fai^ and Rn '' 'p^"'" ""^^ ^ad
to vindicate his own p^'sSn ^K ^'f ' ^^ '^ough
scabbard with much",^ ^ ,' .""buckled his great
rest. Then thrmen tn"ed 'ul " f^" '"^'''' ^-
dispersed sheepishly, Rogerlor",*"*^ ''^'^'^ «"d
■ng w,th them to the fSstle "'"'" ^'^ '■^'^' g°-

knowly '„t:;t J^^'^'- '"-"^ 'o Marlowe, "you

Bu- 1 do not understand-" began the poet
94

A Tale of the Lost Colony

"Nay, not the details. Nor I. He will explain
later ; see, he returns even now to do it," and Roger
Prat stood once more before them. He was holding
his sides and shaking with silent laughter, after the
repressing of which he told an extraordinary tale.

" I heard the whistle," he said, " and stood on guard.
Ma.ster Pilot, being bound, I now supjxjse, by Hugh,
could give no outcry save one of much profanity!
But then a pistol-shot rang out, and I started forward
a pace with some alarm. No doubt it grazed Hugh's
elephantine ear. A stimulus— a mere stimulus ! But
as I started forward— and for that step, captain, you
should put me in irons, I do assure you— as I started
forward carelessly, the hatch was flung open, and,
before I could turn, I was ^-.ized from behind. I
thought Roger Prat was then no longer Roger Prat,
but Jonah ready for the whale. Yet I struggled'
and being, as you know, of some bulk and weight!
succeeded in pushing my captor backward to the
hatch. The next instant one of us tripped, and I
found myself bounding downward along the ladder,
at the bottom of which, thank Heaven, I lay down
co: 'ortably on the man who had fallen behind me.
For him 'twas a less desirable descent." And again
Prat shook convulsively with laughter, his elbows
out and hands pressed close against his sides.
"And then," he resumed, with an air of bravado, "I
overcame the score."
"Overcame the score!" exclaimed Marlowe.
" With wits. Master Poet. ' 'Slid !' cried I. ' Why
treat a comrade thus? In the name of Sir Walter,
'tis most unreasonable.' 'Which mean ye?' they
cried. ' There are two Sir Walters I ' 'Sir Walter St.
Magil, of course,' said I. ' Here I come from the Ad-
miral to give ye aid, and find myself hurled headlong
to the nether world. The pilot's killed, the plan
95

John Vytal

arm Th TT ''" '''' '''^'-' '" <^^'^°^^"= 'h^^ yard-
arm There .s fcrly men concealed on the orlop deck
;"v^.l,„g us unUiudly/ At this 'twas all I c ,k c i
olook mournful and keep fro.n lauj^hing ,X^h

he. tisT" '^^ '^l' '— ^t-c'k and babble i
thtir fears to one another, 'fhen 1 hunt' niv ht-Hl
as .f .n thought. ■ 1 have it! ' crie^ I 7t las ■ ^^^
play the part of bra^e defenders. There' or I- tru
n.c for I gamed hi.s confidence at St M "■« s^i'
Seshon. .'T.sCaptainJohn^■ytaUhede•d• own*-"
£ "i;'f'Tf""' '"' ^"'- '^'"'' ''"«'^'rd words. Vet

elbw ' rt^ 7'' ""^ ""^''^-^•■» 'A ready-wittol
leiiow, 1 heard one ,s v am] ' 'Ti^ ^ „u • "'"v^u

^ another gull. Thu';rhey alL t S rh.t

twenty brave souls, Captam \ y,al, Aew recrS

Hang them, I say. Hang the lot a sunri.se except

nly 'd"?e„r T '"""T- 7'^ '^'■' "- ' '-'"«'-
he galW P "''^ '' •'^"'^'^ '"'• '^'^ ^"d cheats

or that L ^r^''" "" ^°' "'^'-"''' f°--Ki^'= >"^'
aJ.inl ?f' /^■"'* a comical proceeding.'' 4nd

ly so h:t at°l TT""""* '"''"' '""'' -hausting
Lderl, t ^' '?'"'-'f°'- ^•'^'■y mirth, he sat down on

aul the poet, is hkc to an intru.sive flea It n -aL
in'tVraughte?'""^ °' "''' "^''""^' ^^^ "^'^■- -

u^fShH^-tf-^^irarr

stern of a sohtary ship bound hke a bale o'cToth and
propped against the bulwark under tho eyeo a ^fw
who yawned sle.pily, and, stretching a L.r o1 IZl
arms abroad, s,x,ke now and then in m^osv if b^s
to a robust seaman on duty at the helm Tn a ™r
96

A Tale of the Lost Colony

pulent soldier shaking like an earthquake and sit

nex a face of sensitive poetic features not made fo^
humor, but now submitting to it as thm, Jh i
protest yet very heartily; fnj lastly, he Si "£n
.gure of an evident leader, who stood near th^ others
but seenungly aloof in thought beine for ,1, '
son, htUe moved by the galf of 3' " '""" ""-
The dawning light of the next day showed a nir.
ure widely different in conception. ^

CHAPTER VI

" Die life, fly soul, tongue curse thy fill, and die t"
—Marlowe, in The Jew of Malta.

The trial of the pilot for the instigation of mutiny-
was conducted in the fly-boat's main cabin with strict
secrecy, in order that faint-hearted ones might be
spared the disheartening anxiety which a knowledge
of the conspiracy would have brought to them. The
ship's commander. Captain Pjmp by name, who had
ai)pea.ed greatly flurried and genuinely amazed on
hearing Vytal's story, presided at the inquiry. Be-
•side him at the long table sat Vytal on the one
hand and Ananias Dare, now sober but forlorn, on
the other.

The pilot, brought in by Hugh Rouse, came stol-
idly, without a struggle, and during the trial faced
his judges with defiance, turning now and then an
expectant look on Ananifis Dare. For, preceding
this investigation, the assistant had gone to the deck
at sunrise and held a conversation in whispers with
the guilty man, telling Hugh, who would have ques-
tioned his authority, that he but sought to elicit fur-
ther information from the captive. What he had
actually said was this : " An j'ou betray me, we're
both lost. Make no accusation at the trial. Even
though I testify against you, I will save you in the
end."

But the pilot's eyes gazed at him with little trust-
fulness. "You swear it?"
98

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

" I swear it. "

"So te it then. But at the last an you fail me.
Master bot, look to your own salvation."

The trial i)roceeded in a perfunctory manner, and
would have been but a routine affair save for the
increasniR nervousness of Ananias, who concealed
the cause by holding both hands to his head as though
only the niRhfs intemi)erance had unstrung him ■
anil by the sudden appearance of Roger Prat who'
with the captan.'s [lermission, held a whisiK-rc-d con-
ference with Vytal. "I pr^^y you, captain, make
no charge agamst the others. I hn ve charmed them
with a flute and tabor. They are hot against the
pilot, being but hirelings, and, like shccj), easily led
\V e can count our force the richer by a score ' I have
saved your necks,' said I, 'and have talked with Cai>-
tain Vytal. An we opixjse him we surely dangle
from the yard-arm. Welladay, welladay, I know
what I know,' and I sang them a song, then played
at dice, and lost three angels a-purpose, then drank
and warmed their chicken hearts. In another week
they will be ready to die for us," and, making a gri-
mace at the sullen pilot, as who should say, " Be more
cheerful, sir," Roger swaggered from the cabin.

On the testimony of Vytal, who told of St. Magil's
conversation with Ferdinando concerning his bribe
to the pilot, and on the oath of Ananias Dare, who
testified to having heard the defendant plotting with
&t Magil, the culprit was speedily condemned The
pale face of Dare, the faltering voice, the nervous
etiort with which he forced himself to stand erect while
bearing witness, were readily set down to his bibu-
lous tendencies, already well known to the fly-boat's
captain.

In a grandiose manner Captain Pomp arose and
drew himself up to his full height.
99

John Vytal

"Incarcerate the prisoner," he said to Rouse, "in
the hold. At midnight I shall send for him. Our
sentence is that he shall be hanged at the yard-arm
until dead." Whereupon, with an important air,
not devoid of true dignity, he bowed to Vytal.

" It is well," said the soldier. And the three judges
fded slowly from the room.

At the hour of midnight, when the voyagers were
.sleeping in their cabins, a sailor appeared in the
hatchway of the hold, and soon the pilot stood be-
neath the main-mast, guarded by two dusky figures
with drawn swords. A third approached him grave-
ly. It was the Oxford preacher, offering consolation.
But his offices were undesircd. The pilot greeted
him with a low curse, then laughed scornfully.

Vytal, who had come hither, realized the stubborn
nature of the condemned man, and drew the pastor
aside.

The moon, now full, had risen high, eclipsing with
her brilliancy a host of stars. The sea lay glassy,
a pool of shining mercury, its currents gliding on in
silence, faster than the ship herself. The stillness
was profound, broken only by the far-off cry of an
unseen gull.

The night was a night for serenades of love, for
lutes, for ardent whispers, for anything but work
like this.

The noose was thrown over the pilot's head care-
lessly, as though the sailor were casting a quoit upon
a peg. The captive opened his lips as though to
speak, but the rope was tight-drawn, and the effort
ended in a gulp, vainly. Suddenly there was a gut-
tural, inarticulate cry, a choking sound, and a bulky
form went up half-way to the yard-r m. In that in-
stant, hurrying, uncertain footsteps scraped along the
deck, and Ananias Dare reeled into the icnt circle.

100

A Tale of the Lost Colony

He gesticulated and moved his arms, striving to pcint
steadily at the swaying figure in the moonhght. But
he uttered only a gibberish of broken, unm- fining
syllables, and then, lurching to the bulwar. . went
deathly sick in unrestrainable nausea.

The figure above, still rocking slightly from the
upward swing, held out a thick forefinger and point-
ed to the new-comer, while a smile, ghastly in the
moonshine, and triumphant even in the last agony,
crossed its bestial face.

Vytal turned and looked at Ananias, who was now
but a mumbling, terror-stricken heap upon the deck.
Vytal had looked at the man before, but now for the
first time seemed to gaze into him.

"Ugh!" muttered Roger Prat, shuddering. "Good-
man Thong did his work well but the pilot has done
his duty even better."

The sun, several hours later, peering through the
grayness, saw a heavy thing, limp and motionless,
depending from the yard-arm of a lonely ship. It
was a man of revolting countenance, black from
strangulation, and pitted with the marks of a disease,
Over the brow a shock of coarse red hair hung in
strands like streaks of fire, and from the chin a ruddy
beard flared across the chest. On one of the broad
shoulders sat a great white gull, its beak buried in
the flame.

But soon a sailor appeared on deck, whistling cheer-
ily in the morning watch. He cut the thing down,
and, grumbling over its weighty bulk, casi, it head-
long into vhe sea.

tii I

CHAPTER Vn

•What shall I call thee? brother?"

-Marlowe, in Tamburlaint.

The voyage of the (ly-hoat proceeded thencefor-
ward more uneventfully. The men who had been
planning insubordination, now that their ringleader
litd tieen so suinmorily disposed of. changed their
front and avowed themselves gen 'inely the followers
of N'ytal and the captain. For this transition Roger
Prat, winning them with his humor and g<M)d-fellow-
ship, was largely res])onsibIe, and after his own hum-
bly boastful manner took no care to concejil the fact
from Rouse, whom he loved in a railing, mocking
fashion.

Vytal and Marlowe were much together, the dull
days affording them the chance for many conversa-
tions, by the aid of which their intimacy grew and
deer)ened into a strong friendship. There was that
in the poet which appealed to Vytal — the facility of
e.\pression, the fervor and the impetuosity, all of
which his own nature had lost in the grim realities
of war and privation. Also, there was sometimes a
profundity in Marlowe's thought which touched his
silent depths.

Neither of the two saw Eleanor Dare agai.i while
on the voyage, save for an occasional glimpse of her,
when, with her maid-servant, who was the wife of
Dyonis Harvie, she came upon the deck for a breath
of air.

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

AniiiiiaH apjiroached the two men now and then
with whis|K'rc(l protestations of his innocence, that
jjrew more calm and earnest in his sober moments.
I'inally, h()we\er, he vaguely confessed a sliyhl com-
plicity, to Vytal only, anil fulluweJ the acknowledt;-
ment with a convincing assurance that at heart he
had ever Ix'en loyal to his father-in-law, (lovernor
White, anil to Sir Walter Kalei«h. Vytal, hiding
his contemirt, received this assertion with a promise
to leave the matter as it stixxl so long as there were
no signs of further cul|)ability, and gave the assist-
ant his hai\il with a strong elTort. lie then instruct-
ed his men to |)reserve a like secrecy.

For many weeks the .ship pursued her solitary
cour.se williout once sighting the Admiral. It was
feared by many that Ferd'nando's vessel had met
some misfortune, Mid foul play was suggested by
but a few of the most su.spicious voyagtTS.

Only one incident in all these weeks seems worthy
of record.

Vytal was standing alone at mid-day, dowr on the
orlop deck, examining the ship's cables and spare
rigging, when a light footstep, almost inaudible,
approached him from behind. Turning, he saiv the
Indian, Manteo, who, it will be remembered, was
returning to Virginia after a stay of .several years
in Kngland. He held a finger to his lips and looked
about him cautiously. " We are betrayed," he said,
in a low voice, " by the son of a warlike country.
Ferdinando leaves his children to perish. The great
ship seeks us not, but would make her way to my
land alone."

Vytal scrutinized the impassive face for the first

time with a deep interest. He had seen the Indian's

tall figure, now and again, standing silently aloof in

the bow, his dark eyes always gazing off to the west-

103

John Vytal

ward. But until now he had not seen those eyes
alert and troubled, the supple form prescient with
meaning.
"What bring? you this suspicion, Manteo?"
"I know it as birds know that winter comes, as
vultures that a warrior is dead."

There was a marked similarity in the bearing of
the two men. They were both tall, dignified, and
slow to speak, both evidently perceptive, strong, and
masterful, both almost childlike in their direct sim-
plicity. Perhaps each realized the likeness, for into
the eyes of both there came a look of understanding
that gave promise of a bond between them stronger
than the stout cables the one had been examining,
stronger even than the other's ties of blood.

"My brother," said Manteo, at length, "you, too,
know the truth, but in a different way. I came to
thy country as Master Barlow's interpreter, many
moons ago. I return to my people, but I have learned
among thine to interpret more than words. Thus,
and by my own heart, I know that we are left be-
hind. I have spoken."
" You have spoken no lie."
"I am Manteo, and lie not."
"My brother," rejoined Vytal, "listen." And he
told the chief the tale succinctly, omitting only the
complicity of Ananias Dare. " An you learn more,"
he said, in conclusion, "you will tell me, I trust, and
none other."

"Only to thee have I spoken, or shall speak. For
thou art a chief, as I am, among men."

There remains no more to be told concerning life
on the fly-' ,.at. As to the voyage of the Admiral, it
IS recorded on accessible pages of history. An ex-
cerpt from these may not be inadmissible as a rec-
ord of bare fact. In the journal of John White, the
104

A Tale of the Lost Colony

colony's governor, we find the following true descrip-
tion of the voyage :

MAY.
The sixteenth, Simon Ferdinando, Master of our Admiral,
lewdly forsook our fly-boat, leaving her distressed in the bay

of Portugal.

JUNE.

The nineteenth we fell with Dominica, and the same evening
we sailed between it and Guadaloupe.

The twenty-eighth we weighed anchor at Cottea and presently
came to St. John's in Mosquito's Bay, where we spent three
days unprofitable in taking in fresh water, spending in the
mean time more beer than the quantity of water came unto.

JULY.

About the sixteenth of July we fell with the main of Virginia,
which Simon Ferdinando took to be the Island of Croatani
where we came to anchor and rode there two or three days :
but finding himself deceived, he weighec", and bore along the
coast.

The two-and-twentieth of July we arrived safe at Hatar-
ask. . . .

The twenty -fifth our fly-boat and the rest of our planters
arrived all safe at Hatarask, to the great joy and comfort of
the whole company : but the Master of our ^dmtro/— Ferdinando
—grieved greatly at their safe-coming: for he purposely left
them in the bay of Portugal, and stole away from them in the
night, hoping that the Master thereof . . . would hardly find
the place, or else being left in so dangerous a place as that
was, by means of so many men-of-war, as at tht time were
abroad, they should surely be taken or slain, but God disap-
pointed his wicked pretences.

Here the account of the days at sea ends. Thus
the fly-boat, thanks to the watchfulness and care of
Dyonis Harvie, came at last to her haven.

CHAPTER VIII

" Triumph, my mates, our travels are at end."

—Marlowe, in Did \ Queen of Carthage.

The landing and unlading of the fly-boat was
a task requiring much exertion. But now that the
dangers of the ocean' were past, every man, woman,
and child of the little colony lent aid with a hearty
will. They were in high spirits. The mid-day sun
shone down in summer warmth, the skies were blue
and cloudless. The island of Roanoke, emerald
green in all its summer verdure, seemed a veritable
land of promise. A number of the most youthful
colonists ran along the shore to prove their freedom
from the confines of the deck — ran, calling to one
another, and sang for sheer happiness. Others,
more devout, gathered about the preacher, who of-
fered a prayer of thanksgiving. Some, with whom
labor was at all times paramount, went busily to and
fro in the small boats and the pinnace, which had
again been manned, conveying the cargo from ship
to shore. The main body, who had arrived earlier
on the Admiral, came down with tears of joy in wel-
come, and a babble of questions concerning the fly-
boat's voyage. The scene was varied. Here stood
Hugh Rouse with a great bag of salt on his broad
shoulders ; here Roger Prat, arm - in - arm with his
newly regained friend, the bear, and pointing at
Rouse with some remark to King Lud of raillery;
here Marlowe, the poet, surveying with eager eyes the
1 06

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

luxuriant foliage farther inland and listening with
enthralment to the songs of forest birds ; there Gyll
Croyden running toward him joyously, with a fresh-
plucked nosegay of unknown, fragrant flowers in
her hand ; here Ananias Dare overlooking a couple
of sailors who rolled a cask of wine across the beach ;
there Simon Ferdinando, important with a hundred
directions, and furtive as ht glanced toward Vytal;
here Gove lor White, for a moment leaving the man-
agement to his assistants, and here, too, beside him,
his daughter Eleanor, her face jiale as if with illness,
her long cloak still about her. She was clasping his
arm with both hands, as though to make sure of no
renewed separation. "Father, 1 thank God we are
once more together. The days were very long, and
almost unendurable."

But there was no rejoinder, for John Vytal stood
before them, with a question of evident importance
on his lips. " Where is Sir Walter St. Magil?"

"In truth I know not," and the governor's kindlv
face turned to the men at work near by. " He hatii
gone out to the Admiral, perhaps."

Vytal left them with a grave, almost indifferent bow
to Eleanor, and, boarding the pinnace, was about to
return to Ferdinando 's ship in quest of St. Magil;
but he felt a hand on his arm drawing him gently
teckward, and, turning, he saw Manteo, the Indian,
who drew him aside beyond a bend in the shore.
"My brother, he hath gone."

ll I

h ■

CHAPTER IX

' a'To'"*^*" ''" "^^^ ^''^" advance her head
And flourish once again that erst was dead "

—Marlowe, in Dido, Queen of Carthage.

Vytal frowned and bit his lip. "When did he
go, and whither?"

"When, I can say, for I have heard. It was yes-
terday, the day after the great ship and our father,
the governor, came to Roanoke, before we ourselves
arrived But whither I know not, save that it was
toward the great forest of the South "
"Alone?"

The Indian's brow clouded. "Nay, I grieve that
he went with Towaye, my kinsman, who came from
England on the Admiral. I await thy word to fol-
low the trail by which Towaye, for some unknown
purpose, guides thine enemy."

" I thank you, but I am glad that he is gone He
has no knowledge of the fly-boat's arrival, and thus
will miscalculate our strength. He is bound, an I
mistake not, for the Smnish city of St. Augustine,
is It not accessible from here by land^"

" ^' uC "''1'^"'^ ^^"'■'^- " *"■• «'=" "f ^ kindred race
came hither that way at the beginning of the world
and were slam as foes. But the trail hides itself as
he trail a dead man follows. It runs through an end-
ess forest, our forefathers have said, and over the
face of angry waters. The white man must be brave
though evd, and my kinsman hut one of many guides
to8

JohnVytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

For passing through Secotan, fivc-and-twenty leagues
to the southward, they must go, with many wind-
ings, as serpents go, to the land of Casicola, lord of
ten thousand. Also they must pass the Weroanccs,
Dicassa, and Toupee Kyn, of whom our men know
nothing save the sound of their names, which comes
like an echo without meaning. And they will come
to La Grande Copal, where there are stars in the earth
j'our people call jewels, and buy with cloth."

Vytal's face grew more troubled as the Indian pro-
ceeded. "It is impossible that he has gone so far."

"Yes, but there may be yet another way. The
river called Waterin* is a trail itself, leading perhaps
to the Spanish towns."

Vytal seemed but half satisfied. "Are you sure
he has left the island?"

"No, but I will see."

"Go, then, Manteo."

"I return not," said the Indian, "until I know,"
and in a minute he was lost in the adjacent woods.

For a week the foremost con.sideration in Vytal's
mind, after the cargo had been landed, was to ascer-
tain, if po.ssible, the whereabouts of the fifteen men
who, being the stoutest spirits of an earlier colony,
had been left the year before to hold the territoiy
for England. The inadequacy of this arrangement,
by which a garrison that wouk not have sufficed to
defend a small fortress was left to guard a boundless
acquisition, is perhaps unparalleled in history. But
to many of the newly arrived colonists the utter futil-
ity of the plan was not apparent. They had not yet
experienced the desperate hardships of an infant
settlement, nor realized the extent and latent ferocity

• It was a common belief of the time that a river ran all the
way from Virginia to Florida.

109

John Vytal

i^ ^^""^f ^"'^^ "^'^^ °^-"-^a" the continent Fur-

wmch fifteen men had been appointed to hold was bv

"en whT haTnT"' H. ^'--tl^^'-' - 'he nS o^
r,f^ '^"° H P'"y«l 'heir games of life against odds

bu7fhrt ^r ^^ ' ^°'' ""'=' ^'^" f^"- f"-"-" sanguine
but the kndly, impractical governor, although he

in \ain, still held out hope of ultimate success

I doubt not we shall find them yet," he said one
evening o Vytal, "on some adja.e^t inland''

The soldier shook h.s head. " Let us go once a<rain
and inspect the site of their settlement " ^

It IS a most dismal scene, ' ' declared the governor
Se"^ " Bur^ '" '-^ ^^'^ -"-"^ inward^fronUhe
ftable." ""^ """ '^" '°°" '"^^'^ ^^^ place halv

a IS PhI"""'^''!'!!!'^ ^ ^°'" •^hind them; " 'tis

^Av M <"' ,?V^' 'P"^'^'^^ J°'"«l them.

Ay, Master Marlowe," returned the governor

glancing at the new-comer with a look of fndul "e„;

admiration. "But Eden is forsook " """'gent

W.-i'^ *^! "''' f*°''^'" "hserved the poet, "of an en-
forced exodus but wherein lay the fatal sin v Are

?ut des^Them"'"^'"^^^ '""^ ^^^^ '" ^ ^^-'«
h^^A r^^'T '"°''^ a* him askance. "I have

The ,!^r ,' ""■' ^ '•'"''-'' P"°P'"' ^"d "««! God. "
the poet made no answer. The unouesfinn,-,,,,

faith of men like Vytal and the gover^or-the fa h

ctu'^tm aTr ""1-" '"'^ ''""" '""^ -"* he TatS-
caused him at times to covet their deep simnlicitv

agam,he would rail againstreligion,and'va£wS;
1 10

A Tale oi' the Lost Colony

vain eagerness through the mazes of a complex Pan-
theism. But at last, poetry, pure anu undefiled by
sophistries, would return to him with her quieting,
magical touch, and restore the sunshine to his world.
"Dreamed you ever of such verdure?" he said, at
length. " Nature is prodigal here, a spendthrift in
a far country."

They were now on an eminence dominating the
bay and sea. Vytal stood still and looked inland,
then turned and faced the water. He spoke no word,
but only gazed off to the distant shore. At last,
catching sight of the bu.sy group beneath him, he
turned again and rejoined the others. "He knows
it all," thought Marlowe, "even better than I, yet
.says nothing."

The road, overgrown with weeds and scarcely
visible in places, led them at last to a number of huts
in a wide clearing at the north end of the island. Here
a scene of decay and desolation met their eyes. The
sun, now setting, shot long, slanting rays across the
oval, as though to exhibit every detail of the pict-
ure in one merciless moment and then be gone.
" 'Tis an impious revelation," said Marlowe, glanc-
ing about drearily at the numerous deserted huts.
" Look at that hovel ; 'tis but the corpse of a house.
And that I Its windows leer like the eye-holes of a
skull. And this one, the least decayed. It stands to
prove itself a home, with the mere memory of pro-
tection. How vacantly they stare at us, like melan-
choly madmen! Come, let us begone." He would
have started back, but seeing that Vytal and the gov-
ernor had not yet finished their more practical in-
vestigation, followed them in silence.

Most of the hovels had been torn down to within
about eight feet of the ground. The small boards
which had served to barricade their wmdows were
HI

'Wi^VTig

John Vytal

scattered about like the fallen slabs of graves while
here and there a door, evidently unhinged by vio-
lence, lay flat against the earth, as though, if raised
It would reveal the entrance to a subterranean vault'
1 he roofs, which were but the ceilings of the first
stones, yawned wide to the sky, save where a few
mouldering, worm-pitted rafters deepened the inner
gloom. Melons grew about walls and thresholds
m rotting profusion, while a hoard of parasitic weeds
and wild grape-vines ran in and out between the logs
bome of the cabins, having fared yet worse, were now
but black heaps of charred timber, half covered with
long green tendril-', as if the fingers of Nature were
stnving to drag them back to life. And near the mid-
dle of the clearing a large pile of logs, rafters, bricks
and stone blocks showed that a fortress had been
razed to the ground.

The three men walked on with few words, until
Vytal, standmg at the margin of the oval, called
Marlowe s attention to a narrow pathway almost con-
cealed by shrubs and fallen leaves. It led through
the dense forest. Impulsively, Marlowe started to
follow It but the governor would have restrained
him. Have a care. Sir Poet; mayhap this is an
Indian trad, and leads to danger I"

"No," called Marlowe, who, unheeding the other's
protest, had hastened along the path to a distance
of several rods. "Come."

They followed him and, to their surprise, came
presently out on a second clearing, much smaller
than he first. Here a cabin, entirely unobservable
Irom the main opening, stood more boldly than all
the rest despite its isolation. It was entirely en-
circled by trees, save on the western side, where a
broad breach in the line of foliage admitted a flood
of relentless sunlight.

112

Tm-

^^yjf

A Talc of the Lost Colony

The three men started forward eagerly, for this
house might even then have contained a tenant. Its
door was closed, its windows barred. The roof had
not entirely fallen, for a willow's branches .swept
across it with a thousand restless whispers, as though
to a being within. But here, too, lank weeds clawed
the walls, and melons rotted before the threshold.

Vytal tried the dooi . It resist<xl his strong press-
ure. But Marlowe, raising to the level of his .shoul-
der a large stone, not unlike a cannon-ball in shajie
and size, flung it against the oaken barrier. It
crashed through a decayed board and fell inside, first
with a dull thud, and then, as it rolled, a crackling
sound hke the snapping of dry twigs. Vytal looked
through the aperture, but could distinguish nothing
for the gloom, and Marlowe peered in with no better
success. " It holds all the shadows of the forest in
its heart," he said, thrusting a hand through the
hole. "There is a bar of iron across the doorway."
He dislodged the metal nxl, and letting it fall, pulled
open the door, whose rusty hinges creaked remon-
strance as he entered.

Vytal and the governor, following him, found
them.selves standing on hard, cold earth, to which
the stone and iron bar had fallen.

A sudden gust of wind slammed the door behind
them. Vytal stepped back to reopen it and admit
light into the gloomy interior, but the last rays of
sunshine crept now almost horizontally through a
rift in the western wall. "They desecrate a tomb,"
said Marlowe, "by revealing its contents. Look!"
He pointed to a number of white streaks in a corner
on the earth. The sunbeams frolicked across them.
"They are the bones of a fellow-creature," ex-
claimed the governor, leaving the cabin with hor-

ror.

113

John Vytal

He spoke truth. In the corner lay a man's bones,
the skull, the body's frame, the limbs, all close to-
gether, but separate.

"There are two skulls!" ejaculated Marlowe

"No; one is but the stone you threw." Vytal
was not mistaken, for the stone had rolled among
the white streaks, snapping some and crushing
others to a powder that shone like phosphorus in
the sunlight.

The two men turned away from the ghastly sight
in silence, to survey the room. An old musket stootl
against the wall, its barrel poked through the nar-
row chink, peering out at the forest. A rusty pike
lay near by, its long, wooden staff stretched out from
the white finger-bones of its dead iwssessor.

The cabin was devoid of furniture save for a rough-
hewn table and an upturned stool, about the legs of
which tbe long sinews of a plant, having entered
stealtliily from without through numerous knot-
holes, had twined themselves tenaciously.

But there were few weeds growing within the hovel,
for the earth, like adamant, offered no fertility even
to the rankest vegetation.

Suddenly the sunlight left the room, and a chill-
ing miasma .seemed to fill it. Marlowe shuddered.
"Let us leave this grave. Its gloom gets into my
brain. One man outlived his mates and dwelt alone
in this vast country, daring to fight single-handed
against Destiny— and this is the result— a few porous
sticks bleached by the frivolous sunbeams, a de-
lusive glow suggesting the divine spark— and ob-
livion I" So saying, the poet, wrapping his cloak
closer about him, withdrew to the open air, where
the governor, also dolefully affected, awaited him.

Vytal came out slowly. "He is accustomed to
scenes of death," said the governor to Marlowe.
1X4

■c:»i„«La --

A Tale of the Lost Colony

"Death, with all its grim carnality, has grown fa-
miliar in the years of war."

" Yes, but the glwm of the story is in his heart,
beside which the shadows of the room are as iioth-
mg. He feels these things down deep, but is ever
silent."

They stood on the edge of the glade waiting for
the subject of their conversation, who was walking
slowly around the cabin. "He looks for further
traces of the lost men," remarked the governor.

"No, it is for some other reason." Marlowe was
not mistaken, Vytal's close inspection of the hut's
vicinage being from a widely different motive. Care-
fully he examined the glade's border on all sides.
To the west he found a wide, natural avenue in the
forest that lost itself in the purple distance; to the
north, a dense jungle seemingly impas.sable for man
or beast ; to the east, a double file of oaks and elms,
growing with some regularity on the brow of a low
cliff, their trunks surrounded by a tangle of under-
brush that rose to the height of several feet and fell
away again, to ramble through long grass in all
directions. Being tall enough to look over this
wild hedge-row, Vytal could catch a glimpse of the
sound beneath him, and, from a vantage-point where
a dead oak-branch left the view unobscured, he could
just distinguish the two shi[)s riding at anchor, with-
in musket-range of his [xjsition.

Turning then to the .south side of the clearing,
he came to a strip of woods, perhafis fifty yards in
width, which seiwrated the hut from the deserted
settlement. Evidently satisfied by his observations,
he rejoined his comjanions.

"With your permission," he said to Governor
White, "I make this my dwelling-place."
The governor r ipo-tnl.^itod, being astonished at
115

John Vytal

the voluntary choice of so dismal and isc*ated a hab-
itation, but Marlowe undcrHttxjd.

" I prefer it to any other," said the soldier. " Have
you not yet sus])ected that we ate hkely to nu.it en-
emies here on Fioanoke?"

" \ay, the chance is slight. Manteo and Towaje
have assured me of their iieople'.s friendliness."

Vytal hesitated before he siwke again, but finally
concluding that the time had come for his disclosure,
made known the main facts tersely and without a
word of incriminating testimony against the gov-
ernor's son-in-law, Ananias Dare.

(Jovernor White received the information in mute
astonishment at first, seeming loath to believe that
any of his followers had planned so base a conspiracy.
But he had been aware before now of Ferdinando's
untrustworthy character, and although the master
had explained away his desertion of the fly-boat by
as.sertitig that its pilot knew the course, and had re-
quested him not to shorten sail unnecessarily, the
governor's first mistrust returned to him now with
full force. "We must apprehend this Ferdinando,
and bring him to justice."

" Nay, with your permission, I will leave him at
large, yet watch him carefully. Men of his mould
defeat themselves. By close surveillance we shall
di.scover any mischief he may seek to brew among
us. An open punishment would affright the fellows
who, being but tools, were on the verge of mutiny.
These men now are loyal enough, and, if well treat-
ed, will fight for us. Otherwise they might desert."

The governor's kindly face was now more grieved
than angry. " I had not thought there was so cai-
tiff a knave as Simon among our people. Think
you Sir Walter St. Magil will return with a force to
menace our little colony?"
Il6

A Tale of the Lost Colony

"That is wcUnigh certain, for St. Ma«il plays
into the hand.s of Philip, King of S|>iiiii. The
SiKiniurd.s would extend their posscssionM north-
ward, and have found a friend to aid thcin. This
inan, believing he has decreased our nuiiilivrs by
ime-half, has gone to inform his pfilron's subjects
lliat we stupidly wait here to be killed."

" Whither has he gone?"

"Thai I cannot tell. At first I thought to St.
Augustine, but the journey by land is very difTicirlt.
The Spaniards await hira, for all I know, in a cainp
not half so far."

The governor, deeply troubled, cast about for the
best method of procedure. " Would it not be well to
pursue St. Magil, and overtake him if possible before
he reaches his destination? I have heard that Ind-
ians are as quick and sure as hounds in a pursuit."

"No. It is best to drill each planter in the use
of arms: then, when our homes nre built, to fortify
the town as best we may, and wait."

" But we shall suffer heavy loss, even though suc-
cessful in the end."

" Not so much as if we run into a snare with no
provision for defence. And we shall teach them a
lesson."

" But at how great a cost to us? You, Captain
V'ytal, have not a child to consider. I have. She
is a woman, brave, 'tis true, and stout of heart, but
now not strong in body. You know my daughter.
Mistress Eleanor Dare?"

"Yes."

"I should go down to my grave broken-hearted
were harm to come to her."

"I understand."

"No, you cannot, you who talk of wars as pas-
times, j'ou who have no child to guard."
"7

H^i':?,

JohnVytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

"I understand," repeated Vytal, breathing heav-
ily, and Marlowe, to relieve the tension, declared
fervently, "We will defend the women to the last
man."

Vytal turned to him as though he would have
asked a question, but looked away again in silence.

They were now ncaring the workers on the Ijcach,
who made ready to return for the night to their call-
ins in the fly-boat and Admiral, where they were to
sleep until the town had been rebuilt. Seeing the
governor stop to speak with one of the as.sist^ints,
Marlowe turned to his taciturn friend. " Atay I
share that hermit's hut with you?"

" 1 would share it with no other," and Vytal looked
down at the poet as ;it a younger brother. Mar-
lowe's face brightened, lie started ahead with a
buoyant step. "Now we shall li\'e together, a pair
of biirbarians, heavily armed against the world and
waiting to see which must be the last man." lie
would h.'ve run on further in his reckless manner,
but there came no res[)onse to the outburst of defiant
enthusiasm. Turning to ascertain the reason, he
was surprised to find that his companion, who had
dropped behind him, was at this moment entering
the woods in company with Manteo, the Indian.

" My brother, a tongue of smoke licks the sky far
to the southward; yet the forest burns not; the
smoke is from the shore."

" You think it is the camjj of white men?"

"I do ; for did I not sec a ship asleep at anchor
and the gleam of armor under a hill?"

A look of intense satisfaction crossed Vytal's face.
"They are come," he said.

CHAPTER X

' As had you seen her ^'twould have moved your heart,
ThouKh countermined with walls of brass, to love.
Or at the least to pity."

— MAHLOWE, in The yew of Malta.

On the third night following Mantco's return,
Vj'tal and Marlowe were together in the secluded
hut of their choosing. The cabin contained but one
room, scantily furnished by two pallets of straw, a
roughhewn table, a couple of chairs, and other bare
necessities of a home's interior.

The weather was foul, the sky lowering. Occa-
sionally a gleam of distant lightning shot through
chinks in the hovel wall, straight across Vytal's
face, as, deep in thought, he sat beside the table. A
tempestuous wind, shrieking like a shrew in heated
brawl, seemed bent on extinguishing a cresset which
had been thrust between the logs, but succeeded only
in causing the light to flare uncertainly, as though
the torch were being brandished aloft by an unseen
hand.

As the gale increased, Marlowe, who had been
half reclining on his pallet in a dark corner, rose
and peered out through the hole in the door which
he had made with the skull-like stone. The aper-
ture, jagged and splintered at the edges, had pur-
posely been left uncovered, as the hut's original win-
dows were still barred.

" r faith, 'tis a murky night," said Marlowe, striv-
ing to determine the outlines of trees against the sky.
119

John Vytal

"This wind's a very nightmare to the woods." He
turned slowly and sat down at the table. " 'Tis well
that most of the colonists have built and occupied
their homes. Troth, I pity them who sleep aboard
the ships at anchor."

Vytal inclined his head, and Christopher smiled
comprehendingly. Eleanor, at least, was safe and
unharassed — hence Vytal's unconcern. Mistress
Dare, of whom lately they had seen nothing, was
housed in the governor's new-built dwelling, beyond
the strip of woodland whose high outline Marlowe
had just found indeterminate between this cabin and
the town.

But Gyll Croyden was still on board the Admiral.
Marlowe remembered this, and his thoughts pictured
vividly the two women in contrast — one, as he sup-
posed, all content and comfort; the other at the mer-
cj' of every wind and wave that crossed her life.

Listlessly he toyed with a sheet of paper on the
table, and, picking up a pen, dipped it in an ink-
hom at his side.

"Comparisons are odious," he wrote, slowly, little
dreaming that the words, bom of that fleeting con-
trast in his mind, were to become proverbial the world
over. But, on raising his eyes to Vytal's face, he
found in the deep expression none of the odiousness
of comparison, for in his friend's thoughts there was
only one woman to be considered.

Again the poet smiled, as one who half gladly, yet
half sadly, understands, and once more his reflec-
tions shaped themselves in words. He wrote, ceire-
lessly, "Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?"
and, letting fall the pen, handed the paper to Vytal.
The soldier read and re-read, but made no response
whatever, for, even as his eyes were raised from the
writing, his look changed suddenly, and Marlowe,

120

'EM'-W-^^^m.

A Tale of the Lost Colony

with astonishment, saw him gazing transfixedly
toward the battered door.

As a dream comes in the night-time to recall the
thoughts of day, so a face, seemingly visionary, ap-
peared now to the two men. The jagged edge of the
door's orifice framed it uncertainly, but the rresset's,
light fell across the features in vivid revelation.

Vytal's lips parted as though he would have
spoken, but it was Marlowe who voiced the name.
"Eleanor — Mistress Dare!"
And now slowly, yet before the two could recover
from amaze, the door was opened, and, like a white
dove from the heart of the gale, Eleanor came within
the cabin.

The door slammed, and then all was quiet, both
men sitting spellbound, for a single glance had told
them that she was walking in her sleep. Her eyes
were open, but evidently unseeing, with that vaguely
transcendental look of the somnambulist; and she
was clad only in a white simar of silk. Her rus-
set hair, with which the wind had rioted, hung in
profuse disorder about her shoulders and beneath
her throat, where now it rose and fell more gently
with the undulation of her breast. Her hands,
clasped before her, added an effect of rest to the blind
bewilderment of her all-unconscious pose.

For a moment she stood mutely facing them and
looking, as it were, through them to a limitless be-
yond.

Vytal rose. "Mistress Dare, I pray you—" but
as the name Dare seemed to be borne in upon her mind
she cried out terrifiedly, and, swaying, would have
fallen, had he not supported her and led her to his
pallet of straw.

As his hand touched hers, Vytal started. "She
hath a fever," he said to Marlowe. "Do you seek

121

John Vytal

the chirurgeon. He sleeps on the Admiral to-night
— also her tire-woman, Margery Harvic, at the gov-
ernor's house."

Hastily Marlowe started out, and the two were left
alone.

In silence, Vytal covered Eleanor with his cloak,
then, kneeling beside her with all of a man's tender
concern and helplessness, held her hand.

Her mind was wandering now, and she spoke
brokenly. The torchlight revealed her expression
to him, and every look betokened change of siibject
in her thoughts, or, rather, change of subconscious
impression, for the words never forsook a central
theme, around which her mind seemed to revolve in
desperate fascination.

Occasionally a glimmer of the distant lightning
fell across the listener's face, showing it tense and
deep-cut with the lines of a new resignation.

"Oh, I am but a child," he heard her say, as her
speech grew more coherent. ' I pray thee, father,
take me not to London . . . 'twill ne'er be the same
to me as this . . . these vagrant flowers . . . they
grow not thus in the streets of towns." Her voice
was tremulous with tears. "Is't true, father, that
the queen . . . hath sent for thee ... oh, then,
thou'lt go ... I prove no hinderance . . . thou 'It
go, and I'll play at happiness in London . . .
'Tis best." She paused and tossed feverishly on
the narrow pallet; but at length, as Vytal's firm
grasp seemed to comfort her, she lay quite still
and spoke again. Several years had apparently
elapsed in the life she was re-living. " Alack, I knew
we'd find no content in London . . . What is't wor-
ries thee so, my father?" Suddenly a second cry
escaped her. "What sayest thou? Her Majesty
would have me married! . . . and 'tis the only way
122

A Tale of the Lost Colony

. . . nay, nay . . . Will she not spare thee, father?
Thou hast done naught amiss . . . 'Tis most un-
just . . . Ah, nay, in troth, I cannot . . . yet 'tis
all for thee ... for thee . . . then tell her Majesty
1 will."

Her look changed, and she smiled sadly, as though
resigned, a second ])erson seeming to enter in uixm
her dream. " Ananias, it shall be as you desire . . .
If thou 'It rest content with friendship for a time, per-
chance in the coming days I'll learn to love thee,
cousin, but now I cannot . . . My father alone is
in my heart."

She broke off abruptly and grasped V^ytal's hand,
as though upon that grasp depended her salvation
from a fate far worse than death. Evidently behind
all the foremost people of her delirium a dominant
personality influenced her mind — the same person-
ality, perhaps, whose thrall had in some strange way
drawn her to the cabin. And now she fell to .sobbing,
sobbing in anguish, and her helplessly childlike ex-
pression tortured Vytal's soul. "Oh, Ananias, I
knew not of this great weakness ... I reck'd not
against thy love of wine . . . God pity me ..."

Then for long she lay moaning and whispering
inarticulately, Vytal kneeling beside her, scarcely
more conscious than herself. The wind, subsidmg,
wailed about the cabin, leaving the torchlight steadier
within. The damp earth, as yet unfloored, lent to
the room a torablike chill, and leaves rustled across
the rafters.

Eleanor, turning restlessly, gazed into a dark cor-
ner, as if yet another figure hf.d defined itself amid
all the complexity of fevered ihought. " Margery,
I must tell thee," she said, with the impassivity of
one who has i\o interest in life. "I am with child."

Then again all was silent save for the low moan
1^3

John Vytal

and whisper of the wind as it died slowly in the
forest.

Vytal rose and went to the door, acutely realizing
that to remain longer beside the bed and hear these
words of a brcahing heart was not only to torture
himself, but to profane the soul that, all unknowing,
gave them utterance. " John Vytal, I love thee . . .
thee only . . . always."

He trembled then mechanically opened the door,
I)assed out, and, closing it again, stood out.side before
it, fixed and rigid like a sentinel on duty. Only in-
coherent phrases came to him now, inarticulate and
meaningless in language, yet fraught with so ter-
rible a significance that he strove to force ujwn his
mind a condition utterly devoid of thought.

But with Vytal this was ever impossible, and so
at the last, with a great mental effort, he clutched at
the consideration of c/utward and practical necessity.
Would Marlowe never return with aid? He listened
desperately for footsteps. Every slight rustle, every
sound of wind and wood that came instead, filled his
ears and brain, until all the world and existence
seemed but a medley of sounds, trivial, but wonder-
fully important ; low, but always audible and intent-
ly to be heeded in the night.

When at last he heard a footfall he realized dimly
that this was not what he had exi>ected; it was not
from the woods, but from within the hut.

Slowly the door opened, and Eleanor stood looking
into his face. Her eyes, though bewildered, were
calm and recognizing, while her whole expression
seemed indicative of consciousness regained. The
somnambulism and delirium, not unnatural to one
in her condition, had left her very feeble in body
but mentally aroused. As Vytal realized this, the
demands of the moment became paramount to him,
124

k^^itj^jm^U ^im-i

A Tale of the Lost Colony

luthargy being broken to meet her
' I pray you rest

his own terrible
needs.

"Mistress Dare," he said, cahnly,
here longer. I have sent for aid. "

For a moment she made no resixjnsc, but stood
looking about her at the room's interior. The torch-
light fell across a sheet of pn\KT on the table. First
a single written sentence met her eye :

" Comfxirisons are odious."

She shivered and would have turned away, but
there was more writing, which seemed to sixiak to
her, though she was not sensible of reading the lines,
even to herself :

" Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?"

She looked from the table out into the darkness,
and then at Vytal. "Oh, sir, tell me how came I
hither— thus— at night I" She clasped his cloak
tightly about her, leaning against the door-post for
support.

"You have been stricken, madam, with a fever.
I pray you rest."

At this a new apprehension came into her eyes.
" Oh, John Vytal, have I spoken in feverish way?
Tell me, tell me—"

A quick denial sprang to his lips. He believed
that deception then would have been no lie, but to the
man who had ever fought for truth, to the simple,
direct nature, even that deception was impossible.

" You spoke, madam ; yet, believe me, your words
I shall withhold forever, even from myself."

Long they stood in silence, conveying no thought
one to the other, by word, or look, or slightest gest-
ure, their spirits, at the end of that silent lifetime,
seeming to meet and become one; yet even in the
instant of their acute conception of the union they
stood apart, as if densring the bond.
1-5

JohnVytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

r^nally he saw her tremble, and a keen realization

"tV, T7' I'fPf" ™"' ""^'"'^ "" thoughts of self.

Ihank God, he said, "our colony hath need of

us^ There s work to do-not for me only, but for

,Jj!r''"'^'''' T""^ •'™' '"'^""'"g her head in
v<.Kue assent and with a strenuous effort started

cloture " "" '"''''"■'' ^^^ ^""'"^ °f *^'= ■"^'" ^"-

He could not foliow, knowing that her silence

.rayed h.m to withhold assistance, yet every instinct

fought against his self-control '-■■y mstnict

''I will send the chirurgeon," he said, "to your

father's house." ^

CHAPTER XI

'Now will I show myself
To have more of tlie serpent than the dove;
That is— more knave than fool."

—Marlowe, in The Jew of Malta.

Even the sanguine governor had by now given
tip all hope of finding any survivor of the fifteen men
who had been left to hold the territory for England.
The supiJosition became general that these unfort-
unates had been massacred by a tribe of hostile
savages, known through Manteo as Winginas.
The colonists were much surprised, nevertheless,
when, on a day early ,.i August, their suspicions
were seemingly verified in an unexpected way.

In the afternoon Vytal .sought Rouse at the for-
tress, which had been rebuilt.
"Where is Roger?"

" I know not, " replied Hugh. " He is mad in this
new country, more addle-pated than before. An
hour ago I saw him leading King Lud away into
the woods, and, following hira. Mistress Gyll Croy-
den, after whom he runs nowadays as the bear runs
after him. They went, I think, to speed some friend-
ly Indians on their homeward way. But he is mad
with his pipe and tabor, his cittern and King Lud.
I fear in his wagging head there is no sense left. "

Vytal smiled. He knew men. "Come, we will
go m search ol them. I must see Roger without
delay."

Tl.ey started out together on the trail the Indians
127

.1 !;

John Vytal

had takon, Vytal tclljiij; briefly of St. Magil's ap-
proach, and RoLisc listening %vith more of satisfac-
tion than alarm. At length, after a long walk, they
heard the familiar not. s of a flute gone wild, and push-
ing forward to an oi)ening in the wo(xls that bordered
on the water, came within view of a scene that is well-
nigh indescribijble.

There, in the middle of the glade, sat Roger Prat
on bis tabor, i)iping for dear life, while Gyll Croyden
flashed in and out amid the shadows in a dance even
more fast and furious than the tune. But this was
not all; for there, in lirUcrous c(mtrast, stood King
Lud, the bear, facing iicr from across the sward, erect
on his hind-legs and curveting clumsily about. His
ro.se snilTed the air; his fore-paws dangled idly on
his shaggy breast; but the bijndy hind-legs danced
with an awkward alacrity, while he shambled hither
and thither as though on a red-hot iron. Again and
again he revolved slowly in a cumbrous, rotary jump,
maintaining his equilibrium with the utmost effort
of ponderous energy. And still the flutist played
his rollicking tune, the romp of the notes accompany-
ing occasional outbursts of musical laughter and
warbled catches from Mistress Croyden 's lips.

Mistress Croyden herself was undeniably the life
and key-note of the extravagant orgie, dancing, and
dancing as only impulse led her, in utter abandon and
unrestrainable liberty of motion, until her little feet
sped to no tune, but outstripped Prat's endeavors —
madly, riotously leaped, tripped, pirouetted, glided,
and were never still. She whirled first, then ran for-
ward as though on wings, then, bending low in mock
courtesy to her bulky partner, receded as if to vanish
in the air. Her curls, tumbling about her shoul-
ders, shone like gold in the sun's last rays; her
velvet cap had fallen to the ground as though it,
128

A Talc of the Lost Colony

been thrown wildly to the

with decorum, had
winds.

She had not seen Vytal and Rouse, who held back
withm the wood, but the sight of a long row of dusky
faces lookmK at her wonderingly fro,„ the water's
margin seemcxl only to increase the madness of her
dance The Indians stood near their canoes, si)cl|.
bound be ore dciuirtinR. Indeed, they could not de-
part until this preterhuman apparition, with its
phantom bear and spirit of a woman, had dissolved
as It surely must, like a dream.

Suddenly, obeying some new whim, Roger slack-
ened the speed of his Pan-like music and subdued
the strains to a more pensive melody. In perfect
accord with the change, Gyll Croyden fell to a slower
motion, a dance no more definite, but only less ec-
centnc and vivacious. With a sensuous, mystical
step she seemed to sway and flow into the heart of
a new song that her bird's voice lilted .softlv, and
she looked no longer at the bear. As if resenting
this new mdilTerence. King Lud fell to his natural
position with a growl, and, returning to Roger, sat
di-sconsolate at the player's side. Then Gyll sank
dowri breathless near him and used the shaggv
shoulder as a cushion for support, her curls shining
against the rough background of his coat, her song
dying in a laugh. ^

She had no fear of the brute, for through all those
days when his master had been unexpectedly absent
iV^^w^ f :^^ ^""^ ""^^ ^'°"'= had venturcfl to
roln V f ^"'^' '^"^''^"'^ ^"d scolding him info a
wat-nH r'T*^ ^"'^ ^'^"'''"^^- As the pipe, with a
wailing /?na/« became silent.Vytal and Rousestepped
mto the opening.

Instantly Rogw Prat, a somewhat sheepish treoid-
ity in his bulging eyes, jumped up from the tabor,
^ 129

John Vytal

and, thrusting the pii>c with an obvious attempt at
conccahnont into his boU, bowed low before them.
"Thus," he ventured, waving his fat hand at the
dark figures on the water's edge—" thus we tame the
redskins."

"And a king," added Gyll Croyden, stroking the
bear's nose with dehcate fingers. She was looking
down at King Lud, for somehow her laughing eyes
|)er.sisted in avoiding the face of Vytal. Yet they
were l)y no means bashful

Rouse looked down at Prac. "Vagabond," he
muttered, under his heavy mustache, " Bubble-wit I"

But Roger only turned on the big soldier a glance
of mimic scorn and commiseration, mumbling some
retort, in which " Ox" and " Blunderbuss" were alone
intelligible.

These courtesies were quickly interrupted by Vjrtal,
who sjxjke a word or two in low tones to Prat Im-
mediately that worthy was transformed. His hand
came forward from the flute to his sword-hilt. The
merriment died out of his face, while a look almost
stern and forbidding, yet, curiously enough, not at
all incongruous, crossed his stubby features.

The Indians, one by one, withdrew to their canoes
and vanished into the deepening darkness. The
three soldiers and Gyll Croyden, turning their backs
to the water, started homeward. But suddenly they
heard a light, grating sound behind them on the shore,
and a voice, calling to them in pure English, caused
them to turn about again with extreme surprise.

A man.wearing a rusty steel corselet and bonnet,
a sword, and shabby leathern breeches, was dragging
a canoe onto the beach. Having drawn the prow
with an evident effort to security among the weeds
and tall grasses that lined the glade, he came stag-
gering forward to the amaicd onlookers, and crying
130

--«.-. -^-r

A Talc of the Lost Colony

fell apparently lifeless at

aloud, "At last! at last!
their feet.

Quickly, with a woman's eternal instinct, Cyll
troydcii ran to tlic water, t<H)k off h.-r neckerchief,
wette.1 It, an.1 returnctl to the i)rone figure with ready
aid. Urawintf „|| hi.s heavy head«ear. she theli
()athe< tlie mair.-s tciii|.los, and bidding l>rat brini;
he helnict to hor, fijlc.,! with water, presently da.shetl
tlie c.xjlmi; li<iuid iti her patieiif.s face. '■ l-,H)r Ix.vl"
shecxclaime.!, for the face, despite its full beard an '
loiiK mu.stache, was very y()un^.

Perhaiis half an hour ela|)sed before signs of re-
turning consciousness rcwardetl her efforts. Then
slowly a iKur of blue eyes ..,K.-nal and lof)ked into
hers, after which, [liiinfully, the forlorn soldier stoixl
U|X)n his feet.

A volley of questions rose to the lips of Gyll and
Koger; but \'ytal, who had stood watching the mys-
terious stranger in silence, di.sappointed their curi-
osity.

^^ "It grows dark," he said, addressing the youth
An you, sir, can walk, we had best hasten to the
town.

The other, seeming to have regained his strength
with surprising suddenness, declared, " If it be not

n^l' '^'''" accompany you with little aid."
The darkness matters not, " averred Prat " See
I have brought a lanthorn." And, so saying, he
lighted the sheltered candle with flint and steel
Handing the lanthorn to Gyll, who, like a will-o'-the^
wisp, led the way into the forest, he then lent assist-
ance to House in supporting the stranger. For sev-
eral minutes they followal the trail without speak-
ing; but soon their ragged charge broke the silence.
He spoke as though to himr..lf, in a voice suggestive
of vague remmiscence. P- ly his words became
'3'-

John Vytal

more audible, the broken phrases more coherent.
" A year," he said—" a year in hell!" And then, in
a clear, low tone, "There were fifteen men of us,
just fifteen men, all damned save one."

"My God I" ejaculated Rouse, halting suddenly;
and Roger, coming likewise to a stand-still, stood
surveying the youthful, bearded face, with mouth
agape in mute amazement.

Vytal turned, bu^, fearing to break the spell of mem-
ory, said nothing. And Gyll Croyden, who had half
caught the meaning of the words, returned to the
group with her lanthorn. Holding the light high,
so that its dim rays fell athwart the stranger's face,
she, too, gazed into the boyish blue eyes with wonder
and impatience. As the features were thus illumi-
nated, Vytal's expression changed. In a voice that
surprised its hearers by an unaccustomed vague-
ness of tone, which matched in uncertainty the
youth's, own accents, he demanded, slowly, " Your
name, sir; first, your name."

The blue eyes met Vytal's look squarely, but,
blending with their candor, a peculiar, veiled expres-
sion suggested to the keen observer an incongruous
amusement.

" Ralph Contempt."

"Ralph Contempt!" echoed Roger, in an under-
tone. " It hath the sound of a stage conceit. "

The stranger turned to him, smiling feebly. " You
speak as though I had christened myself. Believe
me, it is a miracle that I remember the name at all."
His phrases became wandering again, and he passed
a hand across his forehead. "Fifteen men," he
laughed aloud. "Fifteen to guard the po-ssessions
of their gracious queen. Fifteen soldiers . . . very
brave, I assure you . . . fifteen in the middle of hell
, . , but so brave, mark you, that a horde of r£un-
132

A Tale of the Lost Colony

pant devils with firebrands and a myriad whistling
arrows, hesatated, really hesitated, irvery fear bf
fore them. A thousand red demons . . and oh
what a song the weapons sang! It laughs in my
T '^/!!."r-^ "" ""'"«• ^'th a look that oZ

gayety. Fourteen men damned, dead and damned
. . .worse yet, one man alive to be played with
oh, twas a merry game in hell! A game of pall-
mall, a new kind of badminton . . . iintedde^ls

cock rh.\^KK '^" '^' !?^' '^' ^"' the shuttle:
cock the hobby-horse, caU it what you will-that
crawhrig thing in the centre, scorched and lore

^^S"l^^^tT'' ?! ^°y'" "^ d^^^ himself up
to his fuU height and looked from one to another
laughing. With the exception of Vytal, the li fen:
ers could not but avert their glance-Hugh Rouse
touchmg his brow significantly; Prat, with a grave
nod, concurring m the verdict. Gyll Croyden turned
away with tears m her eyes, and retraced her steS
on the homeward trail. It was not until she hid
forgetful y left them in darkness, her £ht buti

t7 Tv^f "Ti'^" ^^?' '^^' *he other! followed
her. Vytal walked on alone in deep thought the
unfortunate bringing up the rear with laggfng s ep
tetvveen Prat and Rouse, who maintained fgLmv
silence. Occasionally the youth would laughTd
seemmg to recall some incident of a tem'ble comfei
and captivity would travesty the sam^wi h thTt
consistency of dementia.

rivi'^at '^1' h" r* 'J'"'"^ ^hen the little party ar-
rived at Its destination. A sentry, guarding the
JMin entrance of the palisade, whi h^by now had
b^ncomplet«l, peered through a chink'^^n the ujv

word, for the sentry's ears alone. Instantly they
133

John Vytal

were admitted, the guardian of the town's security
glancing curiously at the unknown figure of Ralph
Contempt.

" In the morning," whispered Prat, " you shall hear
all." And turning to Vytal, he asked: "Whither,
captain, shall we conduct the man? To a pallet in
the fortress near our own?"

"Nay, he will perhaps fare better with me;" then,
to the subject of thoir discussion, "I trust. Master
Contempt, you will accept the hospitality of myself
and one other for d day or two at least."

The youth bowed courteously. "1 thank you,"
he said, and, with that laugh which seemed to deride
Fate itself, or, perhaps more subtly, the listeners, he
added, " 'Tis desirable to be a guest now and then,
instead of a plaything."

He went with V^tal to the secluded house beyond
the enclosure. In the main room they found Mar-
lowe sitting at a table, his arms thrown out over
the rough pine top, his head resting on them in an
attitude of sleep. A candle, .sadly in need of snuf-
fers, flickered across a page of manuscript that lay
crumpled in his hands.

On hearing Vytal enter, the poet awoke slowly;
but, seeing the face behind his friend, as it came
within the candle-light, he rose from his chair with
an exclamation of surprise.

" The sole survivor," announced Vytal, " of our fif-
teen men."

"WhatI"

"But a plaything," added Ralph, with a depreca-
tory wave of his hand. " A mere babery for naked
red-boys."

Marlowe took up the candle and held it nearer the
speaker's face. Then, witli less surprise and more
commiseration, "Forgive me," he said, "for my un-

A Tale of the Lost Colony

mannerly welcome, but for the moment your features
^^m^ '° '"^' "^ "*°"^'' ^ ^'^ ^"=" ^^''"^ in

The new-comer returned his gaze with a dazed ex-
pression. I om a dream."

r J^^ '^^ ^^T^ ""^ ^y'^' meaningly. " He needs
rest, let hira sleep on my bed 1 will make a couch
of grasses for myself. "

When finally they heard the regular breathing of
their guest, who lay comfortably on Marlowe's ed,
Vytal told of the meeting on the shore and of Ralph
Contempt's broken narrative.

"Poor devil I " mused the poet. " He whose bones
we found scattered here was far more fortunate "
...J ™"Sht I knew this man's face," said Vytal

Tis strange that you, too, should have imagined
a recogmtion. ^

rJ' K.7' ".J^^* ''"' ^^^ ^y^ ^^^ ^^^^ familiar.
Doubtless there are many like them of Saxon blue
blighted by the undue levity of a disordered brain
The fellow, most like, has been a wild thing, httle
better than a beast. Saw you ever such a growth
of hair on head and chin?"

"No, it ill becomes the youthful face-the face-"

"^u r" ^""^ ^^" ^Sain to thinking.
sleeT^" " p;!' u^°^ ^"'°^'' '°°'^'"S over to the
V^A w '^"'^ ^^ ^^* •' '^^o^e the man left
Ws dS.'^ '^'"' ^^^"^ ^ y"^^ «S° to meet

W^thJfreS'.-'^"""' ''^^^ ""' ^'^^^ -

CHAPTER Xn

That, like a fox in midst of harvest time,
Doth prey upon my flocks of passengers."

—Marlowe, in Tamburlaine.

By noon on the following day the whole colony
had heard the tale of a desjierate fight on this peace-
ful island, of an unimaginable, hving death amid
savage captors, and of a miraculous deliverance.

"He fought ten, single-handed, and so escaped,"
said one of the planters, joining a number of his com-
panions, who were hastening toward Vytal's house.

"He was half roasted," declared another, shud-
dermg, "and prodded with stones red hot."

"His house," asserted a third, "was burned to
cmders while he defended it within this very clear-
ing."

Throughout the whole morning small parties, thus
discussing the subject, sought to gain a view of the
man who filled their thoughts. Inquisitively they
came and, looking in at the doorway of the cabin,
surveyed the youth, who sat just across the threshold!
mumbling to himself and bowing to them with a
pitiable smile of welcome. Then, silently, they would
return to their various labors, awe-struck and un-
ea.sy.

But at mid-day there was a larger gathering at
Vytal's door. Ralph Contempt stood in the centre
of the circle, describing rapidly his misadventures
with a new grasp of detail and some continuity of in-
cident. His mental powers had evidently been re-
ii6

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

freshed bj' sleep and sustenance; his memory now
offered a more vivid and coherent depiction of the
fight, bondage, and escape. His hsteners, men and
women, stood enthralled and terrified, the cold lin-
gers of fear insidiously touching their njrves and
heart-strings to play the shivering discord of alarm.
Perhaps no instrument was more perfectly attuned
to the notes of apprehension than the heart of An-
anias Dare. He stood near the speaker, with an ill-
disguised attempt to suppress the terror that, like
an east wmd, froze his marrow with an actual chill.
He was entirely sober, and, therefore, completely un-
manned. His face, pallid and tense, was yet beau-
tiful, its terror strangely heightening the effect of
beauty as though by a magic but despicable art.
For the expression, emasculated by fright, was re-
membered long after by those who had read the re-
flection of its fear in their own hearts. The shallow-
est eye can express the deepest apprehension; the
nature devoid of capacity for all other intense emiy-
tion, may yet be keenly and desperately subject to
the power of fear. The study of cowardice .eveals
peculiar inconsistencies. For instance, here stood
Ananias, a man of insignificant psychal stature, sur-
passing all his fellows in the height of his alarm.
His eyes, often but vague films beneath the fumes of
wine, were now clarified and made brilliant by the
horror of their gaze.

And here, too, listening to the narrative of Ralph
Contempt, stood Simon Ferdinando, a coward of an-
other sort, with eyes more furtive and less intense,
who seemed already to consider the question of es-
cape, while the other only remained paralyzed by the
menace of a danger that might at any time repeat
itself. But Dare bore unmistakable traces even now
of gentle birth and a lost manhood, whereas Ferdi-
1.37

•J

'$1

John Vytal

h^t ^h^'^iu"^ ""'■>" * '"Khtened mt looking
for IS hole. The one inspired contempt and pilv
the other contempt alone. ^ ^'

And the man who called himself Contempt wore
an expression as he talked according well with the
appellation. Directing his words and gestures toward
these two^ not pointedly, but in a subtle manner he
so worked upon them and all the others that, whei'
his repeated story of the massacre was told and he
l«used br^hless, a low, moaning sigh fell from
many lips, like the wail of a night wind Then sud"
denly Ferdinando cried out: "To the ships" To
the ships I Must we„too, perish thus? Navr Hi>i
vmc^e rose to a high pitch. " To the ships and Eng-

;;Ay, ay," came hoarsely from the terrified grouo
. Ay away from this accursed country," said Anl
anias Dare who at last had found voice to speak
But a new look, more pitiable than all the weakness
ot his hrst expression, crossed his face " Yet stay i "
K'rf^'.f ^'*°"^'' ^'^^ ^ ^'^^^ effort' some latent
™g i£f '""'" "memory of a dead courage, assert-

RalphContempt turned to the others as if he had not
heard. A huge devil," he resumed, "brained mv
-sole surviving comrade with an axe of stone, whereat
dragging me by the hair, for I was bound by leathern
thongs, he rolled me among the burning timbers of
my own house. Next, another savage—" But he
was mterrupted by a second shrill cry from Ferdi-
nando :

"Even now the Indians may be on their wav
evennowit may be toolatel"

faiiiS'-trrate"'"^^"'^^' "^^ ^'^"^-^^^^ ~g'=
"To the ships!"

1.^8

A Tale of the Lost Colony

It was the voice not of one man but of all, while
panic-stricken they turned and, with a rush, made
for the main enclosure of the town. Only the youth,
who had caused the stampede, delayed, and he, smil-
ing, started to re-enter the hut. But on the thresh-
old he paused and looked back again. For he
heard a new voice rising above the clamor of his
retreating audience, a voice that he recognized in-
stantly. Seeing the men and women hanging back
before Vytal himself, who liad met them at the nar-
row opening in the palisade, he returned to the group
leisurely, his eyes on the tall figure and stern face in
the gateway.

" How now?" demanded the soldier, quietl> . " What
means this panic?" Not one gave answer. " Wliut
means it?" The words came more sharply than be-
fore. But still there was no response, each being
ready to cast on his fellow the onus of explanation.
And still they all hung back, their eyes cast down.

Vytal looked at one and another with an infinite
scorn, omitting only the forlorn Ananias in his search-
ing gaze; for a brief glance at the governor's
son-in-law had shown him a figure of despicable
shame.

"No man enters the town until the truth is told."
And, drawing his rapier, he waited.

"The bodkin I" muttered Ferdinando, who, draw-
ing back to the outskirts of the group, sought to hide
himself from view. At that moment Ralph Con-
tempt went to Simon and spoke a low word in the
sailing-master's ear. Hearing it, Ferdinando started
with an exclamation of surprise, and then, in evident
relief, maintained silence, obedient to the other's
mute command. On this the youth, sauntering
unconcernedly toward Vytal, spoke that all might
hear him:

■V

John Vytal

„3" "^^ °^^Z =^" fin^l his tongue, mine must
needs confess itself guilty. "

His manner became wandering, and he passed a
hand across his brow. "The tongue is an unruly
member . . very mischievous . . . so mischievous
that sometimes the painted devils put cinders on it
and the cinders sizzle to hiss its prayers "

Vy^l scrutinized th speaker, first keenly then
mth that look of bewilderment which not until late-
ly had been seen m the soldier's face

U^Ju^^" '"^" '?' * ^"""^ massacre," added

land " """"^ ^' "^^ *°"''* '■^*"™ *° Ens-

Vytal's expression went darker yet "Fools!" Hp

exclaimed, and then with less severity, as a grieved
bok came into his eyes, "I had not thought to fini
men turned to sheep— »tc» /"
He emphasized the last word as though to convey

ts full meanmg to their hearts. His face, resolute
learl^s, but more sorrowing now than scornful im-
parted some of Its own courage to those about him
Anamas Dare, for one, seemed to have lost much of
his ear. Vytal alone had the power to fortify his
famt heart. In the soldier's presence he was a dif-
ferent man.

"I strove to stop them," he said, "but the effort
was vam " Yet still Vytal withheld his Wk from
the assistant, for this weakling, all unknowing, was
the one man the mere sight of whom could cut him
to the quick.

" You will return to your dut3r_5 ,7 /" It was not
a question but a quiet, doubtless command He
fi^''^^' T ^^^ gateway. One after another
they filed past him, each more eager than his pre-
decessor to hurry beyond the paling and the captain's
View. Ananias Dare and Ferdinando brought up
140

A Tale of the Lost Colony

the rear of this ignominious procession, the one slow-
ly, the other scurrying like a rat.

Within the enclosure they all separated silently,
each seeming to desire a temiwrary solitude in the
pursuit of his work.

"They would defend the town most gallantly
against attack," observed Ralph, dryly.

"They will," returned Vytai, emphasizing the
change of tense. "But your story is told. They
have heard enough. You will strive to forbear here-
after."

The youth smiled. "Forbearance is my chief
virtue," and he went away, leaving his host alone
in the cabin.

As he walked tlirough the woods he came to a nar-
row creek that ran inland from the sea ; and, follow-
ing this toward the shore, he chanced on a sight that
caused him to stop and smile with genuine light-
hearted boyishness. For there, in the middle of the
shallow stream, her back toward him, stood Mistress
Gyll Croyden, bending low over the water. In one
hand she held a forked stick which now and again
she darted viciously into the muddy bed of the inlet,
while with her other hand she held her skirts above
the knee.

"Is it possible," called the youth "that even a
crab is so heartless as to run away? Now, were
1 the crab — "but her expression, as she turned,
brought another peal of laughter from his lijis.
"Yes." he said, "you are caught instead of the
shell-fish."

At this the smile which had been rising to the
surface of her eyes, whether she would or no, cul-
minated in a laugh as merry as his own. She waded
to the bank. " My patient is come to life at the wrong
moment ; but sit you down, pretty boy, and talk to
141

John Vytal

me. Well?" she said, dangling a pair of white
feet in the sluggish stream—" Well?"

"What is the meaning of your expectancy?" he
inquire*!, stretching himself at full length on the
mossy ground. " You wait, 1 suppose, for a seemly
expression of gratitude. Thank you, then," and,
taking her hand, he kissed it lazily. But she was
ixiuting. " Oh, I am wrong. What is it, then? Ah,
1 see. You wait to be told of your beauty, and how
the sight of a maid crabbing is beyond description.
Methinks there's another will tell thee that, and more
besides. I saw the mountebank to-day ogling thee
with eyes distraught and bulging."

Gyll laughed. " 'Tis Roger Prat. He hath no
thought o' me. He's all for the bear and Vytal."

"Ah, well," said Ralph, "thou'rt not so wondrous
comely. I tell thee, wench, for all thy prettiness,
there's one outshines thee as the moon a will-o'-the-
wisp. Nay, look not angry. 'Tis the governor's
daughter. Mistress Dare. I've seen her at her win-
dow thrice this very day. My heart goes wild of
love for so fair a face, so unobtainable a damsel."

At this Gyll made a wry face. "Pah! she loses
her beauty quickly. When we set out from Eng-
land she was fairer far than now. I saw her go
aboard at Pljrmouth."

"Ay," laughed Ralph, "she was younger, but her
face lacked its present fire in the London days."

" WhatI" cried Gyll, "you saw her there?"

"Nay, nay," he return quickly, "'tis a delusion
of my addled brain."

She looked down at his incongruous beard, and
then into the youthful eyes indulgently. "Poor
boyi"

"Poor boy!" he echoed. "You call me nothing
but 'poor boy.'"

142

A Talc of the Lost Colony

" Nay, nay, your Majesty," she contradicted, mock-
ing his assumed haughtiness. " When have I said
such a thing before?"

"Was it not when I — " But Ralph hesitated.
"Oh no, perhaps not," he added, quickly, and ram-
bled back to the praise of her apjiearance.

"If your Majesty will [xirmit me," she said, com-
placently, " I will pull on my stockings."

To this he made a strange rejoinder. "Mistress
Crcyden, you are a prophetess, a sibyl who reads
the future."

She looked at him questioningly, with a kind con-
cern, believing him again bereft of reason. " Be-
cause I predict the donning of my hose? Is it, then,
so easy to be a prophetess?" She picked up a i>uir
of red stockings and wound them about her lingers.

"Consider that the premonition an you will," he
replied, knowingly. " 'Tis perhaps as fruitful."
He seemed to delight for the moment in propound-
ing, by voice and look, an enigma. But in the next
instant he meandered on after his usual manner,
with flattery and idle jests.

In the evening, Gyll, meeting Marlowe in the town,
pronounced Master Ralph Contempt hopeles,sly in-
sane. "Or," she added, "a knavish actor, who de-
mands more sympathy than he merits, for he heard
me say ' poor boy ' when we thought him lifeless in a
swoon. But he is a ' poor boy ' for a' that. Think
of the tortures I"

Following this, three days went by without incident,
and still Hugh Rouse and Roger Prat, stationed at
the southern end of the island as outposts, gave no
warning.

Vytal changed. His taciturnity, which had in-
creased of late, was broken more often as the danger

John Vytal

became imminent. His im|fa.ssive face, in which only
Marlowe could read the quietude of self-reatraint,
grew eager with the anticiiwtion of an actual, tan-
gible conflict between right and wrong. Here was
a condition all-absorbing, and. above all, a condition
the soldier could meet face to face with comprehen-
sion. He could coiw with this, at Icjist. The spirit
of action, always ready to as.-iert itself in him, but
sometimes of necessity re|)re.ssed, finally had become
paramount again, once more to resume full sway.
His step became lighter, his deej) blue eyes less cold!
and many, noting the alteration, wondered, only
the veteran soldiers and the [xict dimly understand-
mg their leader's change.

"My brother, they approach." It was the Indian
who, having again reconnoitred, vouchsafed this
mformation on the fourth day after the advent of
Ralph Contempt.

Late in the evening, Vytal started homeward toseek
Marlowe. The night was dark and still, as though
Fate, with finger to lips, had set a seal of silence on
the world, which the distant surf and a slow rainfall
on the sea of leaves intensified monotonously. But
a new sound suddenly broke the stillness. A cry
a smgle cry— plaintive, feeble, and unutterably dole-
ful—then & silence even deeper than before. Vytal,
pausing near the palisade, looked up at the dwelling
of John White. A rabbit, startled by the sound of
the cry, darted across his pathway into the woods.
An owl. high above him, answered the voice with a
wailing screc-ch. A deer, that had been watching his
approach beyond the gate, ran away timidly through
the forest. He remembered all this long af tei ward—
the white flash of the rabbit, the owl's response, the
rustling of leaves as the deer withdrew.
He waited. Again the cry, louder, but none the
144

A Tale of the Lost Colony

Ics^ pitiful and lonely. The mu«l«, „f hi., face grew
ten.se, the v«n., bJK like whipcords. He tum^
as though to lean against the ,«li„g. but then a^
and stood motionle.s.s like stone "upfwrt,

a flood of l,Kht ell acrass the ,»thway fro,,, wi.htn'
I shone ,n a pool „ rain at hi., feet, and played alx ,a
n '•"wn face w,th profane curiosity. Anania,
Dare s ood ,n the ,l<K,rway looking at him. H, t s"^"
denly the assistant lurched back, and, -snatch nga
silver cup from the table behind him. brought i out
with reeling, sj.lashing footsteps, to Vytal '

Dnnk" he mumbled, thickly. "Drink e,Hxl
|ny captam, to the health of my first-born chiidf ^
oast, s,r, to my daughter-a dee,, to;,st, a very dew
oast-to the firstEngli.shchild-the first marky^!!:
s.tnotagreathonor?-the first Bngli.sh child b.^m
''^ /'"\'P^^-^or\d.wide A,nerica!" He st<Kxl a^
unheedful of the rain, bareheaded and Ilf Ss^

r rtV:„r ^' "' ""^ """"'^ '«' -'-•>' ^^^

ih^^t °"Z^ *''• '"P '° ^y^^^- "'« hand shook and
the troubled wine overflowed the brim. "Drink"
he repeated, laughing hilariously. "Such a toast
such a child! You've heard her voce alreadv
Damn it I Drink! Will y.u'" ""^^y-

JZnVT^"^ Vytal'sface went livid with a fury
no man had ever .seen there until now. He clinched
And '■ '*«;"«'l^hitintothepalms. " Desecrator"'
And m another minute he was groping his way

the path his step became firm and regular on the
hard earth as though he were marching, th.^ diS
away slowly m the woods.

^ 145

CHAPTER XIII

■ I

'With hair that gilds the water as it glides
And ...
One like Actseon peeping through the grove."

— Marlowe, in Edward the Second.

Weeks passed, and still the Spanish, for some
unaccountable reason, delayed their invasion.

At noon on the last day of August, Vytal, accom-
panied by Manteo, started southward on a short
reconnoissance. Before going, he left strict injunc-
tions with Marlowe to admit none to the fortress save
those who knew the countersign. He had left the
poet, who was now well skilled in military methods,
to maintain a watchful guard in the absence of Hugh
Rouse and Roger Prat. Furthermore, he gave Dy-
onis Harvie positive orders to preserve a similar cau-
tion respecting the Admiral and fly-boat, of which
the worthy mate was now temporarily in command.

On receiving this instruction, the .seaman scratched
his head in perplexity. " There is one who pesters
me," he said, "with importunate demands to come
aboard, and as he is but a harmless lunatic— poor
f50ull — who says he longs to be on the deck of an
EngUsh ship, and to imagine himself homeward
bound, perhaps you will not refuse him."

" You spe£ik of Master Ralph Contempt?"

"Yes."

"Even to him make no exception. Admit one,
admit all. Only the few who know our sign must
learn the condition of these vessels."
146

John Vytal: A Tale ofthe Lost Colony

back to the shore. H^lf^'efMar 0^^*^' ""^
mittan'e^toTifortls'fo^^'' "T" "^ ^^^^ ^1-
rades' Hvra." *^P°"^ ^^^^ <=«" avenge his com-

ample is nmlS to m^i . "° '^'"P"°"- The ex-
VyLlioined^ltrrw --y;'' with which

more of intlW than Ws fri n^ "^1,1^"- -^«

was walking alone on the shore H * f^'r'' ^^'^
impulsively to join h«- W "^^ ^^--^ed forward

Contempt/whomTe £ left atXTn^T"^ "^f ^^^
fortress, he returned 7^ If .f ^"'""ance of the

howeve;, no tng^awa^TeJ'w '^'l^"'^- ^'^''■
idly, first on one foStthpn^*u?J: ^^'•"'S stood
tively into the stddevL"f' °*''^'l°"king plain-
youth, his ience eSr, ° J";,^"^ '^'''^'^' the
an apparenfaiSessnes^ H ^' M^^"dered, with
water'redgeheSSiin; T *° '^' "^' ^t the

Polepushi^gtt£o"?4telo1h"t^'°"^
once more acco<!t«in,, ^=>"anout to the yldwtm/,

proved oMurateteSS''"'- ^^' ^« ^he mate
and then to the southw^ T'"' '°°^'"S off now
ly to land. ^""thward as he went back leisure-

Ile^'S the Werl^dT^r*""^" ^--«1 him.
town. Once ShL sheltt"o'f\f %"' '^•^'"'^ 'he
tened by a circuX, r. ♦ .u ^^^ ^°'^^- he has-
trable unde^irowthto a t Y^J^'' ^'"'°^* ™P«"«-
about a mile^ote t^h^thf Se'^^Sre^-i
147

John Vytal

stream, secluded from the sight of any one not on ite
inimed ate margin, met his view. It was the con-
ZSon of the inlet in which Mistress Croyden had

To SuSise, a canoeof birch-barU a single ^d^
die in the bottom, floated idly, nosmg the bank, and
Srther on, to his yet greater astonishment a sn^U
heap of clo'thing lay on the sprawhng ^00^°*-^'?^
tree He examined the apparel, and found a woman s
n „ undergarments, a long frock kxrtle, and ncWy
garnished stomacher. Fearing tto^t «fn« ' ""^ Pl^^
had befallen the wearer, he glanced about hmi, not

without alarm. The spot, ""^^y «^"f «^'X
only approached by the inlet, or with m"<^hdifficulty
as he had approached it, by the woods, offered ade-
quate concealment for deeds of violence.

But suddenly he heard a splashing sound from the
near distance, and the expression of his eyes as th^y
looked through the foliage to a bend m the stream
s^mffifty yards farther inland, changed instantly.
FoT the was Mistress Croyden, all unheedf ul o his
proximity, disporting herself to her heart's content
CsUver rippl^ of the water forming an adequate
covering for all save her head, which glistened m
the sunlight, a pond-lily of white and gold

Ralph hurriS forward along the border of the
woods'lmt.l he came within easy speakmg d.stance o
the bather. A curtain of leaves hung before him, but
th oug- he interstices he could ^eete plainly as
she melted like a water-nymph mto the bosom of the
sfream His eyes shone ; his Ups parted as though
he wld have called to her, but hesitating, with a
new consideration in which she was evidently not
the foremost subject, he returned silently to the oak
about which the clothes were .scattered. Stooping- he
picked up all the garments, and, re-entermg the forest,
148

A Tale of the Lost Colony

hid them beneath the underbrush far within its shade.
Then, with a smile almost mischievous in his boyish
enjo5Tnent of the proceeding, he made his way hastily
to the town. On coming to the fortress he hallooed
loudly and called to Marlowe as if in impatience and
alarm.

The poet, who had reheved the sentinel, and was
seated, reading, near the door, came out hurriedly.
But before he could inquire concerning the other's
clamor, Ralph, trembling with a well-assumed ex-
citement, pointed wildly in quite the opposite direction
from which he had come, and seemed to strive the
while vainly for utterance. Marlowe, catching much
of his excitement, nevertheless bade him compose
himself and speak. In this the youth finally suc-
ceeded.

" They have taken her," he said, lowering his voice
that no chance passer-by might hear; "they have
taken her as they took me, by the hair of the head.
Oh, she will be a plaything — it is very sad."

The vagueness of the announcement only added
to Marlowe's disquiet. " Who? Where?"

" Oh, they have dragged her off. I .saw them, the
red devils, at the northeast end of the island. The
game is to be played again." The words seemed
fraught with an under-meaning, but to the excited
listener there was no change. " The game is to be
played," repeated Ralph, now in a dreary monotone,
"with Gyll Croyden."

"Gyll Croyden— Gyll!" And the impetuous poet,
beside himself with alarm, not stopping to hear an-
other word, rushed away. When he had pa.ssed
through the north gate of the palisade, Ralph Con-
tempt, who had watched his headlong pursuit, turned,
with an amused look, and entered the fortress. In
its main apartment, a long mess-room that served
149

John Vytal

also as an armory, he found a small company of sol-
diers, who sat about in groups playing at cards and
"tables."* Believing that Marlowe had admitted
him, they made no remonstrance, and soon he was
throwing dice and jesting with the merriest, his
eyes roving now and then over the massive oaken
walls and stacked muskets.

But as there was no great show of weapons here,
he grew listless and unheedful of the game. The
heavier pieces, if such there were, must be elsewhere.

Laying down his dice-cup with a yawn, he saun-
tered into the hallway, closinj; the mess-room door
behind him. But here he started back quickly, a.s
though to return to the armory, for some one who
had just entered the fort was approaching him with
light footsteps. Recognizing the tread as a wom-
an's, however, he went forward more easily and met
the new-comer in the middle of the hall. The light,
coining from the door behind, threw out her figure
in relief, but failed to reveal her face. In the next
instant, though, when his eyes had become accus-
tomed to tne glare of the entrance, he started back
more suddenly but less perceptibly than before.
Then, quickly regaining his composture, he bowed
low as to a woman and a stranger.

As the Ught from the doorway fell full upon his
face, it became the other's turn to show surprise.
Instinctively she recoiled, a world of meaning mem-
ory in her hazel eyes. But he gave no sign of notice.

" 'Tis Mistress Eleanor Dare, I think," he said,
with a courtly deference. " She hath been well de-
scribed by all. These colonists laud her to the skies.
Moreover, I have watched her many times from be-
neath her window."

* Backgammon.

ISO

A Tale of the Lost Colony

"Your name, sir?" The voice contained no recoe-

""^ ?V^P"'"'°" "°'^' ''"t "nly a natural inquiry.

- ^alph Contempt, yours to be commanded "
Ah, Master Ralph Contempt, of whom I have
heard much lately. The sole survivor of that brave
company which perished."

"Madam," he returned, in a lower tone of double
meanmg, I, too, may perish."

" Why, sir, what mean you? Are you not safe and
sound among your countrymen?" There was an
accusatory stress on the last word, but he only an-
swered with a shrug of his shoulders, and reassumed
ms old, wandering manner.

f r,^r r"J' 'r-u ^^ ^^J^' ''^euely, "a dream, as
I am? But oh, how different! Your eyes fire mv
bram, madam. Women have offered to die for me—"
he was running on now with a wild impetuosity-

'iV^ ^^^r^"^^ *° ™'=^' °"^ ** 'east for whom I my.
self would die. -^

She turned to him with a look of intense hatred and
repugnance but it died suddenly; and, smiling, so
that he might see the smile, whereas the scorn had
been concealed she retreated slowly toward the door
He hesitated for a moment, seeming to be drawn
wo ways, then followed her. Once outside the fori
t^s she sat down upon a rusty caliver which had
been found among the debris of the first settlement-
sat down and waited, fearing doubtfully that her
magnetism mighi not avail to bring him even to so
short a distance from the secrets of the fort. But the
chape of his scabbard grated on the threshold and
in a minute he stood bending over her with ardent
eyes, yet evidently against his will. Youthful in-
soucmnce. which, warring with a certain haughti-

had left hnn a supphant before her, yet a suppliant
151

John Vytal

who would, she felt, as a last resort, throw supplica-
tion to the winds.

" Since the description," he said, " I have dreamed
of you often."

The square before the fortress was now deserted,
a large crowd having followed Marlowe in his ex-
cited quest, for, despite her unpleasant notoriety,
Gyll Croyden was by no means unpopular in the col-
ony. The women might shake their heads and,
justly enough, gossip as they would, but the men
had been glad now to take up arms and go in search
of her. And with many it was but the spirit of com-
radeship that inspired them.

" My queen ! " The two words came in a low whis-
per, nevertheless with all the colossal self-assurance
by which the youth, now known as Ralph Contempt,
was long remembered.

The effrontery almost caused Eleanor to lose her
hold on him. She rose from the cannon as though,
in all the majesty of her pure womanhood, to smite
and cast him from her with a mere glance from the
very eyes that held him spellbound. But she real-
ized instinctively that this man must at all costs be
kept her prisoner until the return of Vytal. She
felt sure that he had come as a spy from the Spanish
ranks, and that, if he were allowed to rejoin them,
it must mean disaster. She did not know how far
he had unravelled Vytal's plan, or how deeply he had
penetrated the secrets of the ships and fortress. The
welfare of the whole colony, however, seemed at stake,
and she must play for it against a keen, resourceful
opponent. This realization, quick-bom and vivid,
though formless, caused her to sink down once more
breathlessly to the caliver. And then a deeper shade
of trouble crossed her face. It was the look of a
peuitcni who seeks forgiveness before some invisible
152

A Tale of the Lost Colony

tribunal, with the justifying excuse of unblemished
innocence. She knew that in her heart the judge's
name was Vytal, and that to him alone she was
answering: "It is for our colony— o«r colony."
Her mind kept reiieating this, feverishly, for thus
she always spoke of the settlement to herself. That
night, long months ago, when she had led Vytal to
Ananias, and had fought against her shame in order
to reveal her husband's condition— for had not her
duty to the colony demanded instant action?— that
night saw the beginning of her sacrifice.

But the word " sacrifice " was not now in her mind.
It is rarely those who name a crisis that live up to
its demands. The details of the moment must be
paramount ; the troubling, peri)lexing flux of thought
on thought, act on act, seeming chaotic in their on-
rush, must blind a person to the perfect whole.
"MyqueenI"

She raised her eyes and looked into his own. He
grasped her hand. For an instant, as a last resort,
she thought of alarming the soldiers, the dull mur-
mur of whose voices reached her from within. But
recognizing the folly of an outcry— for he could read-
ily have escaped within the forest— she forbore to
give alarm, and only sat there, her head drooping,
for the moment seeming to yield. To voice her en-
couragement was impossible. While she could force
herself to remain impassive, by look and gesture
drawing on herself his sudden, passionate avowal,
she could by no means bring a word of answer to her
hps. Fortunately, he seemed content for the mo-
ment with his own reckless wooing, and so she mere-
ly listened and met his eyes— met his eyes without
remonstrance— that was all, and yet to her it meant
that her heart was guilty of a lie.
At length he would have had her go with him "for
153

John Vytal

a walk," he said, " within the silent forest of dreams."
But to this she could not bring herself, even though
it would have beguiled him from the fort and vessels.

" Nay," she replied, " we are alone here."

"But I have dreamed of you," he jiersisted, "as
walking beside mc, your hand in mine, through a
vista of green and gold. And I dreamed that we
stood on the brink of a silver stream — stood, oh, so
long — until at last I carried you across. Yet, be-
fore that, I had called you queen — Queen of England
— was it not strange? But you broke my heart by
refusing to call me king. Come."

She laughed, with desperate coquetry. " And for
a whimsical dream must we lose ourselves in the
gloomy forest?"

He grew restless. "To the shore, then. Per-
chance the river should have been the sea. I did not
read the dream aright. It must, indeed, have meant
the sea, else wherefore the King and Queen of Eng-
land?"

"No," she answered, forcing a pout to her lips.
"The sound of the surf oppresses me. Have you
not more faith in the music of your voice? I had
not supposed you lacked self-confidence."

"Until now nor had I supposed so." He kissed
her hand, which was cold and lifeless. " But no>'- — "

"You do not realize," she interposed, striving
strenuously to fight down the meaning regret in her
voice, "how much I have given you." At this he
seized her hand again, to cover it with kisses, and,
growing more bold, bent do;,n to kiss her lips; but
she recoiled quickly, and, eluding him, stepped back
until the cannon lay between them. Then she forced
herself to laugh.

He vaulted over the caliver. "Even this great
piece," he cried, "although it were ready primed,
154

A Talc of the Lost Colony

could scarce deter me," and, seizing both of her
hands, he leaned down to rejieat his lirst attempt.
But she hung her head, and his li|)s only brushed
the velvet of her cap. Then, raising her eyes to his,
by sheer force of will she dominated his desire, held
it in check, yet kindled it the more.

"Stay," she objected, calmly, "you Httle com-
prehend the ways of women; they must be wooed
before they can be won."

He started back with an impatient gesture. " They
can wait, then, to be wooed," and, turning, he would
have re-entered the fortress.

Had she lost him? Must the humiliation of it all
be bitterly deepened by failure? No. She felt her
woman's power, her tingling wit and intuitive diplo-
macy rise quickly to meet the crisis. " I pray you,
do not go. Master Contempt. Have I been so very
unkind?"

He turned back smiling, his self-conceit actually
leading him to believe that his own little ruse of ap-
parent indifference had worked success.

A bold, flashing plan came to her. She would
play upon the man's two conflicting desires at one
and the same time. A double spell must shackle
him.

"I have it," she suggested, in a yielding voice.
" Let us row out to the Admiral, and pretend we have
left this dangerous land for good and all. "

His eyes sparkled. Fortune had showered him
with favors. He felt less compunction now in mak-
ing love. She little knew, he thought, how oppor-
tunely her suggestion came. He even feigned re-
luctance for the moment, to hide the eagerness of his
steps.

"They walked to the shore.

"I have not been on board my father's ship," she
155

iM;

John Vytal

told him, "since we landed in the fly-boat. You
have heard, no doubt, ( f our mishaps?"

"Yes, I've heard." There was a twinkle in hi.s
eye. " But one thing 1 know not, and that is the
countersign. I fear Dyonis Harvie will forbid me
the ship."

She laughed. " Nay, he is my tire-woman's hus-
band. You shall see."

In a few minutes they were under the Admiral's
side, and in one more she had mounted to the deck.
"It is against Captain Vytal's orders," expostu-
lated the mate, as Ralph followed her. "Under
your favor. Master Contempt must stay behind."

But the youth was already beside them. "Nay,
Dyonis," remonstrated Eleanor. "You forget 'tis
the governor's daughter who brings him."

"I ask your pardon. Mistress Dare; but 'tis not
that I forget too easily ; it is that I remember well a
positive command." And he made as though to
assist the subject of their talk down into the barge
again.

"How now?" she demanded, imperiously. "Are
any save my father's orders superior to mine own?
I had not looked to find my maid-servant's husband
so disloyal."

At this the poor seaman wavered on the horns of a
dilemma. Against Mistress Dare, of all the colony,
he could not persist further, for she was regarded
already as a kind of queen in the little settlement,
who had shown kindness to the very humblest in
sickness and distress, and was above all others most
readily obeyed.

Harvie scratched his head. "You will explain,
I pray, to Captain Vytal."
"I will explain."

The mate walked away mumbling to himself.
156

A Tale of the Lost Colony

Whereat, turning with a laugh of feigned delight
and mischief, Eleanor led her companion to the room
of state. " It is here, " she said, " that the king should
hold his court. And, besides, I am anxious to in-
spect the chamber in which my poor father used to
sit, head in hands, hoping against hope for my safe
arrival." She paused. " Furthermore, there is wine
within of a rare vintage."

"Wine," he said, eagerly — ' ;,folden wine. We
shall drink to our realm, to the England I pictured
in my dreams. But no, first, first to our love. "

She felt hi.s breath hot against her cheek. " And
to solitude," she added, with an under-meaning in
her thoughts. Then, daringly, for the game at nuv
ments carried her away, "To an immemorial ca|v
tivity in the room of state."

He had, however, thrown caution to the winds,
being, as he believed, at the very threshold of a
double goal. Nevertheless, as they entered the long
apartment, he assumed his old, pitiable air. " It is
cruel," he said, " to mention captivity to one ".irho,
having but just escaped .so fell a slavery, is again
in direst bondage."

"It was thoughtless," she allowed, with subtle
truth, "and reprehensible to talk of \ictory when
as_j'et we have neither of us won."

He strove to encircle her waist with his arm, but
once more, as if with natural coquetry, she eluded
him. "Not yet won?" he whispered, passionately.
"It is won; it shall be won — and by me."

"Nay, sir, not so fast. You forget the wine; it
is there." She pointed to a heavy sideboard of black
oak near the wall, at the same time taking a silver
flagon from the table.
"Ah, the golden wine!"

He went to the sideboard, and, kneeling with his
157

John Vytal

back toward her, thrust ii hand across the shelf of a
lower cupboard. FindinR a dusty bottle in the cor-
ner, he withdrew it. " Tis as old," he said, clasing
the d(K)rs and surveying the film of cobwebs, "as
old as our love is new. Come, dearest—" but, on
turning, he broke off suddenly.

The flash of a white ruff, the soft whisper of slip-
Iiers iicruss a rug, and he was alone — a prisoner.

But then— even then, as the key grated in the lock
—he laughed like a boy who has been caught in a
game of blind-man's-buff or hide-and-seek. Even
in the first moment of his plight, amusement and
an uncontrollable sense of the ludicrous sparkled in
his blue eyes. Impulsively knocking off the bottle's
neck against the sideboard, he picked up a silver
cup which had rolled to his feet from the cabin door
and filled it to the brim.

"You remembered me,' he reflected, sipping the
wine with a too-apparent relish as though acting to
himself. " You remembered me. That is one point
gained."

In the meanwhile, Eleanor Dare, on the deck,
was graciously explaining to Dyonis her apparent
unreasonableness and breach of discipline. "You
will guard the door until relieved." And so saying,
she returned in her barge to the shore.

Early in the evening, Vytal, re-entering the town,
was surprised to find her evidently awaiting him at
the fort.

"The man," she exclaimed, breathlessly, without
any prelude of greeting, " the man you fought with
on the bridge is here!"
"Frazer?"

"Yes, Frazer, known lately as Ralph Contempt."
A sharp, sudden comprehension, all the keener
for having been so long deferred, sprang into the sol-
158

A Tale of the Lost Colony

dier's face. " 'Twas to set him aland that the S|)an.
i»h vcsael anchored to the southward. I knew the
boy's eyf.«i. 'Twas his heavy beard deceived me."
She smiled. "A woman knows from the heart,"
she said, "while a man's head aches with i>er..Iex-
ity. And, besides, whereas he oidy fought wi ,i > ,n,
me he in.sulted. " Her cheeks flushed, her lv re
vealing the pure hiitred and anger they hnt : , ^^L'
been forced t<i mask with smiles.

The look fired Vytal'sbkxxl. But,follm i. lisf.-sl
silent fury, an expression which had n nr v. ■ l.^ .1
in his eyes changed them to those of a a »riil. .i u.l
mal, and he .seemed for the moment almo. ( .,«> .liitii
The thought had cut him cruelly that his -.vorsl en-
emies on earth were a mere careless stripling vj ;i
shallow drunkard, with not even the boy's bravery
to conmend him as a foe. There are a few men who
regret the lack of noble power in an enemy as deeply
as the many deplore its non-existence in a friend
"Where is he?"

"I have imprisoned him in the Admiral "
"You I"

"Yes." Her look had a strange penitence in it
and no triumph. He dimly understood the reason,
Md an expression of pain crossed his own features.
But there was not a trace of condemnation in the aeep-
set eyes, his faith being perfect. " Yes," she added,
m a whisper, as though half to herself, " 'twas for
our colony I led him on. But oh, if by any chance
he should escape — "
"It would matter little," broke in Vytal
"How so?"

"He has failed. You have frustrated his plan to
estimate our strength. Even were he to return, he
could impart naught of value to the others. But
stay, in what room have you impri.sniied him?"
159

i<ir

John Vytal

" In the main cabin."

" That is well. Ilis knowledge of the fortress would
avail them nothing. St. Magil, I doubt not, knows
the force and number of our arms. 'Tis mainly my
new arrangement of the ships that holds the key to
our defence. Thus, Mi.stress Dare, even should he
escape, which he nuist not, you have accomplished
thiit which I had not supposed within a woman's
range to compass. I thank you — deeply."

Her face brightened for the instant, but, as he
walked away, she returned to her home sadly, as
though even the skilful winning of her first play
had brought only an ephemeral gladness.

Vytal had but just crossed the square when Mar-
lowe, having entered the town from the north, joined
him. The poet was dishevelled from his hasty
pursuit through the forest and extremely agitated.
"Gyll Croyden has been captured by the IndiansI"

"Who told you that?"

"Our guest."

" And so you went in search of her?"

" Most naturally, for though she and I are naught
save comrades, comrades we shall be to the end."

Vytal studied his face. " Our guest's name, Kyt,
is Frazer."

"Frazerl" The ixiet started. "We are tricked.
Tricked by a boy! Forgive me. You must leave
another to defend the fortress," and Marlowe, draw-
ing his sword, held it out to the soldier. " Leave me
the pen only, for I am not worthy of this."

But Vytal laid a hand on his shoulder kindly.
"I was befooled myself."

" Let us go to him," suggested Christopher.

" Nay, I have just sent Hugh Rouse, who returned
with me from his picket duty. He will bring the fel-
low to the fort."

i6o

A Tale of the Lost Col

on^

th.^? "f "'^'^ '" ^^^ ^"""'■y' then. I long to see
that bantenng actor pleading for our merfv H^
would pay excellent well up^n the MagTwkh Ss
tales of torture and feigned idiocy "

did^not'S*"'' ""'^ '°"^' ^""^ ^"» ""gl* R-e
The cause oif this delay is briefly told

the captive heard voices approaching the cabin d^r
At this he rose from the table, and with an air ^U

Sf'tS Ih: '^ °' '^l^^'^ PurposV^onTeatl'
mmself behind the arras with which the walls were

Once more the key grated in its lock and Frazer

ine tnrrahold, vhile their eyes were probably accus-
toming hemselves to the darkness, neither of these
XpT t ttl '"* 'r " V^^ Prison'ili^rd'one

"He hides. Do you, Dyonis, guard the door "
Harvie obeyed, while Rouse, growing m^e and
more amazed, searched the cabin without success
He might have searched until the crack of d^r^ and
come no nearer to a trace of the cunning quat?

For, even on their first entrance midway into the
room when Rouse had supposed that H^r^^ heW
he door, and Harvie that the captive must cer

less, innocent piece of tapestry in darkness
^ i6i

John Vytal : A Tale of the Lost Colony

And, suppressing a laugh. Master Ralph lowered
himself into Hugh's canoe, to paddle away under
the cover of evening.

After propelling the light craft silently for several
minutes, he listened. An oath rang out in deep bass
from the Admiral's deck. Hearing this, he turned
the prow of his canoe toward a narrow inlet, and en-
tered on a winding forest stream. The moon, just
rising above the trees, ensilvered his course with a
radiance that found itself reflected yet more brightly
in his youthful eyes.

On and on he paddled with silent speed, until,
coming to an atrupt bend in the stream, he saw an-
other canoe on the opposite shore. Looking about
him, he appeared to hesitate; but suddenly a golden
thing, round like a second moon, appeared over the
edge of the lonely craft.

"You will find them," he called, "on a direct line
with your canoe, back in the brushwood. Farewell,
Gyll, and thank you."

"Thank you!" came the answer, in exasperation,
after him. " Here have I b^en starving, fearing to
move! Villanous — " but he was beyond earshot
now, as, running the prow of his boat onto a shelving
bank in the distance, he plunged straightway into
the forest.

if: I I

CHAPTER XIV

"Their bl«K. and you« ,hal, seal .,,«e treacheries I"
-MARLOWE, in £d«„,d,;,/5"J^

whigreJoTn-s^f The:''°'^%^"'' ""^^ «--
on the brow of a W cliff f™ T' '^""«^ ^' f"" '^"^'h
ter. It was nfght Zi T',"^ T ^"°^^ '^' «■«-
lay seemingly lleXhlt^:^''\ ^"^^ ''^-■-

mmusketrnrcarn^^Xtr-' -^>or wV

n^gSttt^^TaX" arMaf^'^r^'-'''^^^'' -
even now." The eSnt InJ^ ^ Contemptuous

his vituperative omZniontth"'" ""' '"""'y^'
had I been there " RoTr^r. ,!^ ''-J^'^"" "^ow,
ing my heels at fh . . Persisted, "mstead of cool-

I ^en'^there in pat'of?"'"' "V'^f'^ '^"«-<'' h"d
would have beent^ "'ooUr ""' ^"^'^^ ^^"^'^^

thySlplgnamt^wasM'^ """= -- °^
to you and ejr s.re, likl^S:!?, ^^^^^ "^-

:'|oy^-^tritr:P?htii"^-'.'l, -k .aughter.
indeed! And think vnwf.,' ^^ok bttle more.

■(Ml

'I", i

John Vytal

without so much as spanking the child? I can see
him smiling now, as he floated off m the canoe
Why, 'twas in the self -same craft you brought 1
Now, that was considerate of thee, gull."
"Leave off, Roger."
"Wherefore?"

" Think you I like to remember the escape? 1 here
was a note almost pitiful in the gruff voice, a pathet-
ic growl that sounded like a moan. "An I were a
wench. Prat, I'd weep for sheer vexation."

Roger curiously eyed him, and, strangely enough,
the idea of this giant weeping failed to touch his
bubbling sense of the ludicrous. With an unprec-
edented consideration of Hugh's feelmgs, he changed
the subject.

Five miles to the southward another couple held
converse. They stood on the deck of a Spanish ves-
sel—by name the Madre de Dios— apart from a com-
pany of soldiers. .. „ ., ..V,

" The man we sent to await him, said one, nas
returned alone. Yet our esteemed prince was to
have left Roanoke this morning."

" Then what think you, St. Magil?" asked the other,
who was evidently a Spanish officer of no mean rank.
"I fear his wayward highness has come to harm,
and is a prisoner in their fort._ Shall we not push
forward without further delay?"

" By all means let us hasten to the attack. To-
waye, the Indian who guided me from Roanoke,
has gone with provisions to meet his highness near
the town."

In the main cabin of an English ship still a third
couple conversed with as much import in their words

as the second.

164

>mmMi^

A Tale of the Lost Colony

"There is yet no sign?"
"Not yet. Captain Vytal."
"They will carry no lights, Dyonis."
"Nay, sir, I look for a black shadow, and listen
tor t.ie npple under its bow. "

As though the hand of Death we:c on them the
ships and the town lay still. Only a single circle
of light, like a watchful eye with a dark iris, shone
through an aperture in the fortress wall. The cen-
tral disk was a cannon's muzzle.

On the ramparts of the fort a man stood alone
lookmg out across the water. It was Christopher
Marlowe, alert, restless, and impatient.

Below him, in the armory, a small gatherinp of
women and soldiers, under the immediate command
of Captain Pomp, sat about in groups, waiting In
one comer, apart from the rest, Eleanor Dare and
her father talked in low tones, while Margery Harvie
on a bench beside them crooned a lullaby to an -n-
fant that lay sleeping ; her lap.

From time to in. mother woman, who sat at a
table across the r< ,n, even now jesting with several
soldiers, looked at the central figure of this group
with an expression in which resentment and admi-
ration were curiously blended. Gyll Croyden had
frequently looked at Eleanor thus, and always as
though from a distance greater than the actual
space which lay between them.

Suddenly the child, who had been christened Vir-
gmia, in honor of England's possession, awoke cry-
ing feebly, and Eleanor, with much concern, t(^k"it
in hCT arms. Her expression, as she looked down
into the little face, suggested varied emotions. There
was a mother's love in her eyes, a deep maternal de-
votion; but, mingled with this, another, less obvious
l6e

WI^ri^EJ^^mfyJT^:

!^ >;

John Vytal

expression seemed to betray some depth of feeling
at odds with the first, and possibly stronger, though
more subtle and indefinable.

She turned to her father. " Must we wait forever
here? It seems an eternity, and I glow fearful lest—"
The kindly governor interrupted her. "Nay,
there is naught to fear, mi- little one. They will
doubtless attack the ships at first, thinking us all
unwatchful, or vigilant only in the town. It is for
that reason, you know, that Captain Vytal, seeking
to repulse and overwhelm them at the first onset,
has manned the Admiral and concealed over seventy
men below. Of a surety the enemy will attack this
vessel first, as it lies to the south and is the larger
prize. Yet, mark you, they will be utterly unable
thus to cut off our last means of retreat. "

But his attempt to reassure her failed. "I fear
many will be killed," sh'; said, half to herself, and
he saw that her eyes were moist with unshed tears.
" Let us pray it may not be so, Eleanor. Our iieo-
ple seem to have caught Vytal's unflinching cour-
age; moreover, the men, well armed and galliated,
will find our foe all unprejiared for so sudden a re-
sistance."

To this a new voice, gentle but masculine, made
rejoinder, and the Oxford preacher stood beside them.
"You have said 'Let us pray'; with your Excel-
lency's permission 1 will do so," In a moment the
whole company were on their knees, while the preacher
mvoked the aid of the God of battles in simple words.
The infant in its mother's lap was crying more
pitifully now than heretofore. And, without warn-
ing, as the soldiers rcsunict' ;ir games again and
Gyll Croyden her iKibble, a • onvulsion seized it, dis-
torting the dimmutive (<^ Mi.es cruelly. _
Eleanor, rising, roc.eu it to and fro in her arms.
l66

smi^mm

A Tale of the Lost Colony

The mother's love was now unquestionably predom-
inant. Handing the child to Margery Harvie, she
spoke a few words to her father : " There is an herb
which Manteo has shown me; boiled in water, it
will restore her at once. 1 must get it."

"Nay, but—"

" Oh, there is no danger. It grows but just behind
the palisade. I go myself, for 1 alone can tind it."

" 1 will go with you."

"No, stay here. Your presence is needed to en-
courage them. 1 will take two soldiers, if you .so de-
sire," and she beckoned to a couple of fighting-men
who .sat near by. "Bring a lanthorn, concealed as
best you can beneath your cloak."

She led the way to a rear entrance. As the sol-
diers unbarred the open door, a woman's voice ad-
dressed her. "I go with you an I may. Two
women are safer than one alone, " It was Gyll Croy-
den.

Eleanor turned and looked into her face for an in-
stant, then accepted her offer. "1 thank you."

In another minute they were hastening silently to
the palisade in single file, one of their guardians lead-
ing, the other bringing up the rear. With difiSculty
they groped their way to the southern entrance of
the town, and, after a word to the sentry stationed
there, passed out. Soon Eleanor, by the aid of the
soldier's lanthorn, was plucking leaves from a bush
that grew not over a furlong from the town.

They started to return, but paused, breathless,
hearing a rustle of leaves behind them.

Then, suddenly, a low whir, as of a bird's wing,
and the rearmost soldier fell on his face, dead. A
long, slender arrow, the like of which thpy had never
seen, quivered between his shoulder-blades, a shin}-
raering reed in the lanthorn light.
167

John Vytal

They broke into a run.

Again the whispei' of Death, and their second es-
cort, struck in the hip, staggered and fell to his knees.
At this Gyll Croyden, crying aloud for help, started
forward again, but Ele. or had stopped to succor
the wounded man.

In that moment the tv ■ >men heard a quick
step behind them, and, be ir , they could turn about,
their arms were seized a 1 pinioned at their backs.
A silken kerchief fell like a thick veil over Eleanor's
eyes and tightened, but not so suddenly as to shut
out the sight of a short, half-naked Indian, who was
engaged in blindfolding Gyll Croyden. Then a
voice, evidently from the man who had bandaged
her own eyes, spoke in a low tone, and she recog-
nized the accents with dismay.

They were Frazer's. "To the ravine, Towaye,
and await me there." His voice sank to a whisper,
yet not too low for Eleanor's quick ears. " Remem-
ber, no harm to them an you value life."

By now the wounded guardsman, having dragged
himself toward Ralph, wildly drew his sword ; then,
painfully struggling to his knees, thrust in blind
desperation, but only succeeded in pricking Frazer's
arm.

The youth turned, and, overestimating his oppo-
nent'.s strength, despatched the kneeling soldier with
no compunction nor instinctive mercy. He was a
man who would demand little quarter, and who, for
all his boyish fribbling, gave less.

" Quick, Towaye ! ' ' But once more Gyll cried out,
though Eleanor stood impassive by her side. The
youth frowned. "Gag them," and he hurried to
Eleanor. " My love, " he whispered, " the king wins. "

On the water a dense shadow moved slowly toward
ifiS

'.•##:

(■UjX7lf''||''

■'.<til

til i'

A Tale of the Lost Colony

Roanoke Like Destiny it glided forward, silent
inexorable, black.

Without resistance, it came closer and yet closer
to Its quarry, until at last the shadow met a shadow
like lUelf, as cloud meete cloud. And as from clouds,
a gu tural oath of thunder burst suddenly forth in
fury to smite and profane the ear of night

The shadow was a panther of the sea, stealing on

a p-ey seemingly tranqv" and asleep-a wild beast

of the desert coming to claim by the law of might an

oasis in the waste.

The crucial moment, so long awaited, had come

Isllnd" ^^'^ ^^"^^ alive and fought for Roanoke

''Captain Vytal, they are herel"

"flow near, Dyoni.s?"

"So near that in another instant they will bpard

"To arms, then!"

"Ay," and a whisper ran from mouth to mouth
a.ong the deck. There was a low click as of pistol-
.nggers cocking, and fifty dark shadows, which had
lain prone behind the bulwark, rose, each to one knee

The shiixs lay breast to breast, feelirg each other's
sides. And suddenly the glare of a hundred new-lit
torches lUumincil the Spanish deck; but the Ad-
miral s bulwark .shielded her ambush from the light

Without warning, a line of steel corselets and mo
non.s flashing in the radiance, started forward from
he Madre de Dws, started, rolled on, and rose to the
bulwark as a silvor wave rises in the moonlight su-
'*[?' ''""'^"*' invincible, vaunting itself before the
sable shore^ .And like m<K,n-r.ys playing acros.s
the crest, a hundred .swords flashed high.

If:

John Vytal

The silver surf, crashing, broke. Hidden rocks
had awaited it in darkness. Baffled, it lashed them,
rose, fell, dispersed, concentrated— a wild seeUie of
tormented fury.

The wave was foam: there was momentarily no
concertion, no detail. Chaos rose above order, an-
archy above method, chagrined amazement above
victorious triumph.

The surprise was complete. At both ends the
Spanish line wavered. Here the counter-attack be-
gan more suddenly than in the centre.

Vytal at one end, Dyonis Harvie at the other, turned
both flanks of the enemy. It was a manauvre that
gave the lie to chaos. Method lurked in the seeming
madness. The Spanish cannoneers, having heard
the sounds of a hand-to-hand conflict, at the first
surprise rushed to their comrades' aid. The cul-
verins and minions, nosing the Admiral's hull, were
for a moment deserted. The impulse had been fore-
seen; hence the flank movement.

Vytal's first tactic, bold and open, succeeded. Fort-
unately, the Madre de Dios was not a man-of-war,
but only a Biscayan carack, transformed temporarily
and diverted from her commerce between St. Augus-
tine and Spain. Thus her ports were few, and the
guns below deck, being inconsiderable in number,
were easily seized to prevent bombardment. A score
of English, pursued by f'.ie now witting gunners,
gained the command of tli'^se pieces. In an instant
the guns were spiked, their silence maintained with
iron gags, their deep throats choking.

Harvie, with his men, defended them. Vytal re-
turned to the bulwark. The Spnnish canrioneers,
finding recapture impossible, likewise joined the main
body.

Then for a time mere carnal bloodshed followed.
170

A Tale of the Lost Colony

The steel sea had Ieai)ed back upon iUelf. The
Span'':,h aggressors became defenders on their own
decks. The ranks of both sides were broken. Each
man fought for himself.

Here it was sword against sword; there pike and
pike. Here pistols and arquebuses, mouthing each
other, thundered spitefully at closest range; there
a piece of brass ordnance on deck shone in the torch-
glare, itself a flame that belched flame and shot out
clankmg chain-shot, gobbets of iron or missiles like
dumb-bells — twin deaths. Here it was hand-to-
hand, men glutting the lust of their inljorn hatred
by sheer brute force, weafxjnless; there a crimson
poniard gleamed dully for a second, ana a figure
lurched backward to the slippery deck. Here, whir-
ring, a garish firebrand fell to an upturned face and
burned away the look of anguish; there a sword
bled a shadow.

But strategy worked in silence and darkness. The
first tactic of Vytal was answered by St. Magil. A
man made his way to the bow of the Madre de Dios
shielding a torch. The wind favored his project '
There was a flash of light across the strip of water
from prow to prow, a tongue of flame in the air and
the firebrand fell flaring to a mat on the Admiral's
beak-head. The man, cowering, watched it, safe
in the knowledge that his vessel lay immediatcK-
to windward of the foe. Gradually the unnoticed
fire spread to the bowsprit's mat, and thence to the
false stem of wood. At the same moment a number
of chains and ropes were flung out like the tentacles
of a polypus from the Spanish yards to the rigginK
of the Admiral. At the ends of these groping finger.s
irons like talons grappled wHh halyards and naked
spars.
The ships were locked in a death-grip.

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John Vytal

With a sudden, concerted rush, as though the
ilames encouraged it to advance, the sea of shining
morions and corselets rose once more, surged for-
ward, broke over the Admiral's buhvark, undulating,
clashing, roaring, as the receding line of English
fell back before it inch bj' inch.

The Admiral's deck was now a heaving sea of
molten silver.

But the eyes of St. Magil, looking across to it from
the outer shade of the Madre de Bias's bow, suddenly
grew grave and lost their triumph. The wind had
changed. Fate intervened. Vytal was backed by
the elements. The insidious fire, of Sir Walter's
own kindling, had recoiled. The Admiral carried
no sails, the Madre de Dios many. The fire returned
to feed itself. Leaving behind it a burning skeleton
superstructure, from which small spars fell flaming
on the combatants amid a maze of ropes that glowed
like fuses over all, it glided back, a venomous snake,
to the Spanish vessel, or, rather, like a hundred
snakes, for the very grapple-ropes by which St.
Magil had bound his enemy were golden serpents
now writhing to the shrouds.

Suddenly a tongue of fire, licking the Spanish
bowsprit and spritsail yards, lolled listlessly for an
instant, as though satiated and fatigued, then shot
up all the more greedily to the f oretop.

And now a wavering sheet of flame rose and swayed
like an immense golden flag, as though the fire itself
had flung to the breeze a royal emblem of destruction.
But at the instant, when only the bowsi)rit and
spritsail yard had as yet succumbed, St. Magil had
hastened amidshijjs. Here he commanded the few
Spaniards who had not yet forced their way to the
English vessel to cut the grapples and cast off im-
mediately. But the intertwining fingers that he him-
172

A Tale of the Lost Colony

self had stretched out to enfold the prey held tena-
ciously. Snarled inextricably, they lay across from
ship to ship, high and low, a hojK'less tangle of fet-
ters.

When finally the sheet of flame unsi.read itself
aloft, St. Magil desisted. His men would have rushc-d
then to the Admiral, iirefcrring the cha.ncc of battle
to a furnace death; but he controlled with desperate
power.

" Cut away the bowsprit and foretoji-Kallant-mast ! "
The men, following him, ran to the forecastle. " The
foretop-gallant-niast is too hi^h. ft burns!"

" The foretoi)-rnast, then, quick ! and cut the hal-
yards!"

A sudden descending flare, as if the heavens had
opened to envelop the striving seamen, and the flag
of flame lay roaring at their feet. The fire had
struck its colors. They grasped the burning canvas
and flung it overboard.

"To the attack!" And St. Magil, at last draw-
ing his sword for open fight, led them in the main
contest.

Two score Englishmen, in double file, stood side by
.•;ide on the Admiral's deck repelling a superior force
that strove to exterminate them. The front line
fought with swords ; the rear with pistols and mu.s-
ketoons, whose barrels looked out between friendly
shoulders before them. Thus the swordsmen , ranged
alternately with the musketeers, were slightly in ad-
vance, and must needs bear the brunt of the on-
slaught.

In this file Vytal held a central position. T3cside
him, either by accident or purpose, stood Ananias
Dare, and beyond the assistant, Dyonis Harvie, who
had been recalled. In a line at their feet lay their
fallen comrades and opponents, forming, in the final
173

John Vytal

throes of death, a ghastly rampart across which the
hving fought.

Again and again the onrush and repulse. The
double fde was a wall of stone.

St. Magil himself, springing into the middle breach
of his foremost rank, armed with a broadsword, made
bold to attack the man whom he held res|ionsible for
the unflinching resistance. Vytal, who now carried
a heavy blade himself, met his chief antagonist with
stern, almost busines.s-like precision, as he had en-
countered all the unknown soldiers 'hat had come
before.

Suddenly St. Magil turned aside U, Ananias Dare
and thrust viciously, The stroke threatened death.
Vytal parried it. For many minutes, that seemed
years, he had been defending two men at once. St.
Magil fell back to the rear ranks with a lifeless arm.
A Spanish officer of high rank took his place and,
with a rallying cry, led his men once more against
the battered English wall.

Steel in torment clashed and rang on shields that
thwarted its desire. Leaden bullets, like driven sleet,
shot from both sides, buried themselves with a monot-
onous thud in heavy cotton targets. Every man
but one had only himself to guard. Save with Vy-
tal, there was no trust but the cause and the indi-
vidual.

The Spaniards persisted. They had been held
at the last assault, but not repelled. They were
on the brink of victory, eight score against less than
four ; the issue could not be doubtful.

Ananias Dare, although brave with a slight ex-
cess of wine and the knowledge that Vytal stood be-
side him, wavered. St. Magil's thrust had shat-
tered i.is puny courage. He gave way and fell back
to the lir.e of musketeers, Vytal and Dyonis Har\'ie
174

A Tale of the Lost Colony

closed in before him. But the disastrous effect of
even one man's retreat was not so easily averted.
His sword had proved of little service, but the influ-
ence of each man on all had been incalculable. A
single bolt in the j)recise mechanism had broken. The
machme shook, grated, and threatened to fall in pieces.
The line tottered. Ananias, perceiving with ter-
ror the result of his cowardice, sought to retrieve
hmiself by rallying his fellows with a cry. But de-
spair rose above encouragement in the call. His
eyes, wild and horror-struck, looked over Ilarvie's
shoidder at the force that must surely in another in-
stant overrun him. He was thinking only of him-
self then, not of the cause nor of his countrymen.
His headpiece had fallen off, revealing a dishevelled
mass of silken hair, wet with the sweat of fear. His
hps dripped foam. The end, he believed, had come.
Yet Vytal, with a sharp word, delayed it. The
voice, deep and resonant with desperate command,
reawakened hope and energy. The attackers neither
gave way nor succeeded in advancing.

Had Vytal lost? It seemed to him impossible.
He had never known the word save once, in youth,
when a rigid cordon of steel like this had encircled
him in the streets of Paris. The memory of that mas-
sacre, in which his parents had been murdered by
Catholics, like these, redoubled his fury. He flung
himself against the line of bristling swords that, im-
passable as a vast cheval-de-frise, checked him at
every quarter. The knowledge that he held another
life in trust — a detestable life — nevertheless, must
he not preserve it ?— quickened his every fibre for a
new attempt. But above and beneath all a woman's
name seemed to reverberate through his whole being
like the war-cry of a soul.

He thrust, thrust, and thrust again. The swords
I7.i

John Vytal

met, slithered, and the Spanish oHicer fell groaning
on the rampart of dead.

The enemy's line gave way. The English started
forward. But St. Magil, nursing his wounded arm
in the rear, met the emergency with a new tactic.
Hoarsely he bade a dozen men to stand upon the bul-
wark, each with a torch in hand. The mancEUvre
favored him. The English fell back al)ace. A line
of wavering light blinded their eyes. The firebrands'
dazzling glare rendered their thrusts and lorries far
wilder and more uncertain than before. Vytal's
face, illuminated vividly by the maddening light,
grew doubly tense and desjierate. Wounded in the
left arm by the slash of a cutlass, his corselet dented
in many places, his eyes haggard and lips white,
his grizzled brow and close-cut beard clotted with
sweat and blood, he nevertheless stood there still,
a grim, unconquerable Death. He fell to his knee,
and fought so; then, staggering, rose again and
towered indomitable. Still the word "lose" had no
meaning for him s.r.e when applied to an enemy.
And even now, on the very verge of defeat, his rage
and iron will thus applied it in the turmoil of his
deuths to St. Magil.

Dyonis Harvie fell beside him wounded in the
ttiToat. Vytal turned to a musketeer who had stepped
forward in the opening. "Mark the torch- bearers I "
and then, louder — "The torch-bearers I "

A few shots rang out with new purpose amid the
havoc, and three Spaniards lurched backward from
the bulwark, flinging toward the English with a
last derision the sputtering cressets as they fell. St.
Magil turned to the men nearest him. "Replace
theml" And three soldiers, leaping to the bulwark,
reinforced the lurid line of flambeaus which had
worked so much di.saster.

176

A Tale of the Lost Colony

The ammunition of the English marksmen had
given out. Vytal noted the silence. "Your cut-
lasses! Stand close to me! We are Englishmen
There! . . . Good I . . . ll„ld fa.st I . . . Death
IS not defeat, surrender is ! . . . We . win
dying!" " ' ' ' '

,t-"'f ^'-^V"'^ 'he place of bullets, his voice of
the steel blades wliich were now but streaks of crin
son on the deck.
"Dying!"

But no; suddenly from the near shore, on which
a httle knot of women stood wringing their hands in
grief a canoe shot out toward the Madre de Dios
It held one man. Then a second craft glidcxl swiftly
from the land as though in pursuit, and this too
was propelled by a single paddle. Next, yet a third
boat and a fourth— but the.se were barges— joined
m what seemed a chase, and each containol ten sol-
diers from the fort.

In a moment the foremost craft had gained the
Spanish vessel, and Frazer was climbing up a rope
to the top deck. Marlowe, from the second canoe,
followed close upon his heels, livid with fury Frazer
turned to cut the rope, but, finding himself too late
rushed through a network of burning stays and spans
to the scene of the last stand. In a second he was
lost m the mme. Marlowe, once on the deck for-
bore to pursue him farther, and turned to Captain
Pomp, who, with twenty soldiens, was scaling the
vessels side from the barges. "Not a word, any
of you, concerning Mistress Dare. Are your anns
ready?"
"Ay."

They advanced rapidly, Marlowe and Captain
Pomp leading through a whirl of smoke— all but one
who broke away, and, creeping into the darkness'
M 177

If ill iii

John Vytal

gained the forecastle. Then, swinijinR himself like
a monkey across to the Ad)niral's oow, this deserter
disapiK-'arcd in the Eiighsh hokl. It was Fcrdinando,
who had Ix-en left by Vytal under the surveillance
of the tjuard, and who, in the confusion, had been
carelessly pemiitted to join tlie |)arty of rescue.

Marlowe attacked the enemy's rear. A hoarse
cheer rose from Vytal's company. The Spaniards
had been hemmed in, but Frazer sixike hurriedly to
St. Magil. "Their fort is utterly deserted. Send
a score to land. We shall win the town. "

At a whis|)ered command twenty men from the end
of the S|)anish line wheeled, and, cutting their way
l)ast Marlowe, scrambled down into the barges. The
l)oet could not bring himself to order a pursuit. The
sight of his friend fighting there, grimly, against
.so great odds, deterred him. lie must save Vytal.

Two barges glided out from the Madre de Dios
across the golden water which, reflecting the flaming
tracery of the rigging, lay between them and land.
But suddenly from the brow of a low cliff there came
a roar of thunder, and an iron ball struck the fore-
most barge.

The Spaniards in the second turned back to the
ship, others swimming in their wake. " We have
underestimated their force," .said one; "the whole
cliff is fortified." And, as if to empl i.size his words,
a second ball splashed in the water at his side.

It was for this that Prat and Rouse had \.aited,
each, through the long moments, commanding the
other's patience. They could not fire at the carack,
fearing to hit friends, but the course of a separate
landing-force had been purposely covered by their
cidverin. Here Vytal had stationed them for the
final defence; here, apart from all their fellows, two
men held no mean portion of a continent.
178

A Tale of the Lost Colony
SeeiiiR the Spaniards retumitiit, IVazcr s.„urhf

I'hey strove t„ olx-y, but could not. Their friends

re reat,n« ■„ disorder, fell bacU lx..fore the co " i

tack o Xytal and .Marlowe. .\Lnu-, who t '

Sers weh "" '"'"""^ "■' '''-^- ''^^■'^■■^■'^ — '•- -",.
no outlet to the sea. Others, more fortunate now
stampaled l«ck over theSpanisli bulwark an fV.rZl
a comiKict phalanx for defence

thcTJrnnf-s 'r'^ '"'"f- '^^^ '^■■'^'''^h. refornung
their ranks, were on the ,K,nU of advancing with a
rush I. razer, however, had foreseen the i.ssuJ

Cut the grapples!" The rope.s, now severcxl by he
held in few places. -^ '

In a monient the Madrede Dios Ix-f-an to fall awav

a rat from the .W„umZ'., forward hatches and sprang

ship. Vytal saw the man. "Who is that?" And
some one answered, " Ferdinando "

the hlT"-" l'""'*',"'- "'^^^ ^"^^ 'he powder in
the^hold-a dozen kegs of Benjamin! Is it possible

But Vytal wrounded though he was and blinded

hll TL' Y t'^^^ ^''^'"^ 'he hatches, "vi^
jus sword he fought the last foe-a long, slow-bu „-
ng fuse, whose spark shone like a glow wonn in the
darkness. Severing the slow-match with aTtroke o
bs weapon, he ground his heel into the spark and
a™ \^"^ sharply to make sure of n'o'furtS
at rw ■ u ■■ "'^Sf n>ng the deck, he looked first
at Dyonis Harvie, who was being lowered bvCantain
Pomp mto a cock-boat, and next out acrl, the Sr
179

■ I

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

with haggard but victorious eyes. "It is well," he
siiid, it) a low voice, for he could just distinguish the
Mudre de Dios, like a beaten hound, dragging her-
self awyy into the gloom.

Suddenly, as if life had ended with the necessity
for action, he fell back senseless into Marlowe's arms.

CHAPTER XV

"Ah. life and soul, .still hover in his breast
And leave my body senseless as the earth. '

— Mahlowe. in Tamburlaine.

"DEAREST, the king win.s." When Frazer had
.sixjkcn these words, ]mor to the meeting of the ,shii<s
Eleanor Dare and Gyll Croyden were led away iut,'>
the fore.st by Tow.iye, the Indian. They gave no
outcry, Kich having acros.s her mouth a bandaKe
of ,si k, nor was resistance possible, their hands bein.'
irmly tied behind them. Yet Cyll, at last, would
have thrown herself u,K,n the ground and refu.sed
IH.sitive y to walk farther had she not feared a worse
fate at the hands of their escort. Moreover, she heard
Lleanor s footsteps rustling just ahaid without ces-
sation, and her heart took courage of the example.
Finally, after they had followed a narrow trail
seemingly for miles, Towayc, who brought up tne
rear of the single file, halted. Then, unblinding
their eyes and unshackling their wrists, probably
by another s command, he k.de them be seated on
the trunk of a fallen elm to rest themselves Each
was but a shadow to the other, .so deep lay the dark-
ness in the forest. But the si idows were net long
rnotioiiless, for presently, with a word, Towayt told
them to rise, and, bindi.ig their hands now before
them, yet leaving their eyes unbandaged, pushed
them once more ahead of him on the trail. Thus they
walked for an hour in silence until commanded to
l8l

~E-r.

John Vytal

turn aside, at which, after entering a small clearing,
llicy were mice more iKTmilted to lialt

A|.|«.rentlj hey had now reached their destina-
"". f..r Ihe ndian, strikiu^ two stones, one against
"<.lher. set hre to a heap of ,lry leaves, ..„ whi^h he
threw an ar.nful of brushw.xKl. As the jjlade was
ilhnmnated ihe women glance.! aU.ut them ,|uicklv,
for they were not 1o„k .dlowed to remain in theomMi-
"iK Leadn.i; them to the clearing s mar«m, near
a deep n.vme, Powaye drew as,de a lianwinK curtam
ol Kra|)e-vmes and motionc-d tliem itito a natural ar-
>.r whose walls and roof were formed by an inex-
tricable tanKle of tou^h tendrils, which ren.lered the
s ro.iKhold as impervious as though it had Ix-en en-
closed by stone The curtain, drawn kick and twist-
ed like a iK.rt.ere, left o|K..n a narrow, brambly cn-
rance, through which the near lire cast its glare to
hght up the interior. Large clusters of grar^s hung
in profusion on every side and car,x;ted the earth
their rich fragrance filling the air as they were trod
under foot by the two who entered

The Indian, and doubtless Frazer, too, had been
here earlier in the day, for just within sco,)e of the
firchght was the carcass of a young deer, while on
the ground a pannier of various provisions lay be-
side he arbor's entrance. Furthermore, a long rid-
ing-cloak had been sjiread out like a rug in the nat-
ural cell.

"Master Frazer is most thoughtful of our com-
fort, observed Gyll, seating herself thereon, with a
laugh, but Eleanor, sinking down, fatigued and
despairing, made no answer. Meanwhile their cai>-
tor was methodically cutting from the deer a steak
which he presently held over the fire on the prongs
of a grsen crotch. Soon the meat sizzled and grew
black, whereupon, turning to his captives, the Indian
182

A Tale of the L

ost C'dIi

[

held It ()ut, an.1, with a ucsturc, bade Ihcni cat (;vll
lauKhcd. " Arc wc t.. devour it wli„lc, T..wayc''

riie Indian, wh,,. llianks to his .s„j.>i,rn in Knuiand
undcr.st.«Kl Ihcir laiiKuaKC, considered the .incslmn'
or a minute; then, evidently .su.s|)ectinK that (All
thus sought to obtain a wea|i.in, .smiUxl craftilv laid
down the meat, and procealed lo cut it u|, w.'ih a
kmle of I- razers re.seinblint,' a Tolalo ixnuanl Next
takiiiK the pieces in his lingers, he piled ihc-m „„ a
IJCwter plate which he drew from the pannier, and
offered his quests the savory dish with a c'runt of
hospitality.

Again Cyll laiiichcd. " Hut our hands arc tied "

fowaye shrug^re,; his shoul.lers, and, squattinir

on the pound, held his wrists lo^ether, then raisul

me dark lingers to his lips. "This way " he said

prisoners cat." And now. turning away, . • busic^i

himself in prqaring his own meal of vcni.' ..

Oyll, with a wry face, stood uix)n her feet and
reaching to the low r(K)f, pluckc-d a bunch of grancs—
necessarily with both hands at ■.nct--which she of-
fered to Llcanor. Then, having prov ided herself with
another cluster, she sat down again and bit off the
grapes one by one, with evident relish. Eleanor
however, only looked out listlessly to the crackling
hre, her hands clas|)ed, her fingers intertwined with
feverish strength. Tears fell slowly on the forgot-
ten fruit in her lap, causing it to shine like a clus-
ter of inestimable rubies in the firelight Her face
even now like a child's, but very spiritual for all its
witchery, was more sad than fearful, more given over
to an expression of deep distress and hoi)cle.ssness
than to terror and apprehension. Iter hazel eyes
moist and lustrous, seemed to have gained a new
depth, which for the first time reached to her very
soul. Their look was a prayer. " My little one, mv
183

I , I

i 1

John Vytal

little Virginia," ageiin and again she repeated in-
wardly, half to herself and half to a Higher Power—
"My Uttle Virginia." Like the dull sia-ge of heavy,
monotonous surf, her thoughts beat upon her brain,
now in comprehending supplication, now in mere
unconscious repetition, imti' suddenly the despair
of her eyes became less passive and more intense.
Another name sprang into the ceaseless, unuttera-
ble murmur and all but escaped her pale lips — " John
Vytal."

Gyll Croyden lay, with elbows on the ground and
chin in hand, watching ) .er. The two faces presented
a striking contrast, Eleanor's as we have seen it,
Gyll's an almost indescribable paradox, so suggestive
was it of contradictory emotions. The whole expres-
sion showed, first, that she had utterly forgotten her
plight and surroundings. Eleanor's face absorbed
her thoughts, thoughts which were, apparently, at
odds. In her unaccustomed silence there was con-
sideration of her companion's feelings ; in her eyes
an unmistakable admiration and kind of wonder;
while about the corners of her mouth a look of iron-
ical amusement played unforbidden. Adding an
expression more serious — if the word is permissible
in connection with so gay a face — her brows were
contracted defiantly. And, stranger than all, a keen
observer would have noted an unwonted sadness,
very subtle, that lay neither in this feature nor in
that, but rather, as it were, behind them all.

At last, however, the defiance assumed sway ; the
consideration was forgotten. "Kyt says all men
love thee," she observed, critically; "now, where-
fore, 1 wonder?" and, as Eleanor turned to her in si-
lent surprise, " Wherefore do they love thee? Thou
hast no merry jest of good comradeship, nor yet those
subtler, intoxicating ways to madden a man and en-
184

A Tale of the Lost Colony

slave him. See ! hast ever looked at men like this?"
She tossed her curls back and smiled roguishly,
with a full consciousness of her beauty. "Or this?"
She leaned forward, arms outstretched languorously,
lips slightly parted, lashes drooping, as though to
veil and soften the light of her eyes. And the eyes
were now shimmering, alluring, full of a mystic,
though physical, enthralment.
Eleanor drew back, with a tremor of repulsion.
" Oh, you recoil, " said Gyll, laughing, with a some-
what hollow mirth; then, mockingly: "And why
should you hold aloof? 'Tis better to be a woman
than a statue — and not so wonderful a statue, after
all. Believe me, 'tis the mere poetry of the thing
entrances addle-pated Kyt— the mere delusion. 'Tis
the rhythm wherewith he describes you to himself.
He writes of you in plays, he calls you so-and-so
in this and that. 'Tis all fancy. There is no real
you. Indeed, I doubt if you are more than a dream
to any man. Now, I am an actual, vivid desire."
And so she prattled on until, at last pausing, as the
firehght grew dimmer, she stretched out her arms
and buried her head in them on Frazer's cloak.

Eleanor's eyes, cast down on the graceful figure,
grew more tender. "I am .so sorry for j'ou," she
said, " iX)or— " but Gyll had .sprung to her feet.

"Sorry? Sorry?" she demanded, with railing
sarcasm. " Your sympathies. Mistress Dare, would
better be directed toward yourself. Sorry ! Oh—
and poor ! Hast never seen my wardrobe — the rich
broidered stomacher, the rare silk and sarsanet, the
fine linen of my smocks, the gold -fringed roun-
dels, drawn out with cypress, the silken .simar lined
with furs? Methinks the governor's lofty daughter
herself has no such raiment. And then the ear-rings
of silver and pearl, the necklaces — oh, jx)or ! An
185

i t;

'li

John Vytal

this be poverty, I rest content to be a pauper. Poor,
indeed! Poor!" and she laughed as at an absurdity!
Eleanor could not comprehend the tone. She never
knew whether Gyll had wilfully misinterpreted the
adjective, or whether its true meaning had sunk down
into the woman's heart and only hardened it the more.
"I pray you keep silent," she said, in a low voice;
" incontinent laughter and vanity seem little suited
to our condition."

Gyll responded with a grimace that was bync means
pretty, and puckered up the comers of her mouth,
which had never been made for sarcasm. Never-
theless she obeyed with silence, as gradually the pres-
ent circumstances were borne in upon her again, re-
called, no doubt, by Eleanor's words. She looked down
at Towaye, who sat near the entrance, busily occu-
pied in extracting the marrow from a shank of veni-
son. Then her eyes fell to the pannier behind him,
and particularly uiwn one of the objects it contained.
She lay down again upon the ground, and, gazing
up at the gnarled and braided branches of the ar-
bor's roof, appeared to have forgotten her outburst.
At last, with a seeming purpose wholly foreign to her
usual manner, she whispered a suggestion in Elea-
nor's ear, concluding with, "It is at least a chance."
" Yes, but, failing, the result would be terrible, un-
imaginable. Besides, he is too cautious."
Gyll shook her head knowingly. "Wait and see."
Then, seating herself near the gras.sy threshold of
the arbor, she spoke in a louder tone, still address-
ing Eleanor. "Master Frazer i.^ well provided. I
see that his friends have sent him wine from the ship.
A bottle's neck looks temptingly out of the pannier.
Wine, wine ! 'twas for gods that grapes were grown.
Hast ever felt the thrill, the pleasant effects of the
jolden liquid?" She paused, listening. Towaye
I86

A Tale of the Lost Colony

was no longer gnawing his marrow-bone. "Ven-
ison and wine ! 'Tis the dinner of iiings ; and, be-
sides, when one dies of thirst as we do—" her voice
fell lower, but purposely not too low for the jailer's
ears. "Wait. I can reach it. "

She moved nearer to the entrance, intentionally
rustling leaves and grasses as she did so. Her ban-
daged hands reached out. But the Indian's dusky
arm, with quick stealth, forestalled her. It was for
this that she had hojied. Greedily, yet half fearfully,
Towaye seized the bottle. She saw him turn it about
in his fingers for an instant, inspecting it from neck
to bottom much as a child surveys a new toy, won-
derful and strange beyond comprehension. And,
as a child, he seemed half in fear becau.se of the mys-
tery. To avoid temirtation, he turned about toward
the arbor, and Gyll noticed the awe underlying his
desire. Presently he spoke. "In England Manteo
said, 'Drink not. There is an evil sjiell in wine.
The sunlight therein is angry at being imprisoned
and not free as on the water. Behold how it afTects
the English, turning them to madmen. Learn, and
drink not. ' These were the words of Manteo. He is
a wise counsellor."

^^ Gyll laughed. "Wise, I doubt not," said she,
" but deceived. Wine is rather the cure for niadnes.s
— the madness of thirst, suffering, cdd, and all that
tortures men. I pray you give it to us."

Seeming reassured by her words, and yet more by
her apparent desire to drink the mysterious liquid
herself, Towaye grunted a refusal. " It is not for
women," he said, cunningly. "It is for men."

She bit her lip to refrain from smiling, and drew
back beyond the circle of firelight.

Taking Frazer's poniard in his right hand and still
holding the bottle in his left, Towaye hesitated. Yet
187

John Vytal

suddenly an inborn passion, until to-daylatent in him,
but cotnmon to all the human race, predominated.
His mouth watered; he must taste the forbidden
fruit. The women heard a little crash, and the glass
neck fell off under a blow from the poniard's blade.
Frazer's own weapon, left as a precaution with the
Indian, had turned against him.

Towaye drank, and drank again. Gyll peered
out and saw his head fall back slowly as, gradually
inverting the bottle until it stood bottom up, he drain-
ed its contents to the dregs.

At this moment Gyll Croyden did an unaccountable
thing. Raising her bound hands to the crown of her
head, she suri)rised Eleanor by untying a short scar-
let ribbon tlua confined her hair, and instantly a ra-
diant cascade of gold rippled and rioted downward,
completely enveloping her. "Watch now a piece
of play-acting. Twould delight Kyt's heart."

Towaye rose and entered the arbor. His features
were distinctly visible, for the fire, being on the ground
partly to one side of the opening, cast its gleam up
even to the roof of grapes and obliquely athwart the
intruder's face. His hands, now empty, were half
outstretched, palms forward, fingers bent as though
to grasp something.

Eleanor drew back with a cry of terror. For a mo-
ment the dark form, naked save for an apron of deer-
skin, stood motionless. Then, with a guttural mon-
osyllable in his own tongue, Towaye started forward.
Slowly Gyll arose and faced him. The fire, with a
final high flare, lit up her hair. The long tresses, fall-
ing in ripples below her knees and completely veiling
her face, shone like a flood of sunlight. But for the
minute his savage eyes and heavy steps were directed
to Eleanor.

Gyll spoke, and the Indian stopped short to look at

\wm:

A Tale of the Lost Colony

her. "Towaye," she said, in a voice that sounded
far away behind the golden curtain of her hair," hark I
You stand before the Daughter of the Sun. Advance
no farther, or the fire that inflames your brain shpll
bum your body also." She paused. Her knowl-
edge of Indian theology was hopelessly scant and
indefinite. She had heard that somewhere, in some
part of this vast America, there was a people who
worshipped the sun. Might not a like heliolatry be
induced here, even though the Hatteras tribe ac-
knowledged no such deity? "I, the Daughter of
the Sun, command you! Leave me I" She thrust
her hands through the shining locks and held them
aloft as though to weave a spell. "See, Towaye.
Even now the spell of the Sun enthralls thee. Thy
legs tremble and waver." She swayed slightly to
and fro to increase his ow.; unsteadiness. "Thy
brain whirls as the flame of a camp-fire. Thy
thoughts clutch at dreams. In an instant thou shalt
be consumed."

The Indian groaned and staggered backward.
Her voice came lower. " Leave me, Towayel The
Daughter of the Sun hath spoken!"

He stepped back, until his knees weakened suddenly
and he sank moaning to the ground. His head lay
against the viny side of the natural doorway; his
gleaming body stretched acro.ss the threshold. Long
the heavy lids blinked with a great eff'ort to keep
awal-- ;; but the mind, utterly unaccustomed to the
fumes of wine, succumbed at last. He fell a.sleep.

Gy!l pulled her skirts above the knee, and, beck-
oning to her companion, would have stepped over the
prone figure had not Eleanor detained her. "It
cannot last. We shall lose ourselves in the woods
and he will readily overtake us. Then — "

"Ay, you are right," said Gyll. "I had not
189

John Vytal

thought of that; 'twould indeed be madness." And
the two women, once more seating themselves in a
corner, surveyed the human barrier before them.

As the firelight waned, Gyll lay on her back again,
looking up at the tracery of interlaced grape-vines
which were now but vague arabesques on the leafy
ceiling. The Indian's head rested on a similar vine,
which formed a pendent arc, a shadowy crescent, be-
neath his neck. With a sidelong glance at the re-
cumbent figure, and particularly at the head's post-
ure, Gyll saw that the low -hanging vine on which
the cranium rested was about three inches thick and
very strong ; moreover, it was braided like a woman's
hair. "Like a wo; ,an's hair." Several times her
thoughts repeated th..- simile, and grew more daring
with the repetition. She whispered to Eleanor, and
then, a second time lifting her skirts well above the
knee, stepped over Towaye and out of the arbor. Her
tread was wonderfully light and soundle-ss. Near
the fire she stooped and picked up something from the
ground that lay near a birch bow and a bundle of
flint-headed arrows. Eleanor saw her bending figure,
the petticoats still raised to prevent their rustling on
the leaves, the red silk hose, the golden cataract of
hair, and remembered that picture always.

Gyll returned. Frazei s noniard was in her hand.
Once within the arbor she appeared to hesitate as with
a new purpose, and lifted her weapon as though to
strike the swarthy breast, but could not. Her poi.sed
arm seemed paralyzed. Eleanor, who uttered a low
whisper of horrified remonstrance, need not have done
so. The impulse was there, but the masculine nerve
and implacability were lacking. She resumed her
first purpose. Cutting the silken band about her fel-
low-pri.soner's wrists, she requested Eleanor to re-
spond in kind. Their hands were at last free. Gyll
190

f 'I

• irl

'■^'/T'mtt:^:

A Tale of the Lost Colony

hesitated, turning the bandages about in her fingers.
" Nay," she said at last, " he could easily tear them."
For a moment she smoothed out her tresses on her
knee, passing a palm over them caressingly. Tears
fell and mingled with the gold Her bosom was heav-
ing. Catching up the long strand in a mass, she
held ii to her lips and kissed it passionately. But
then her weeping ceased with a little gulp of determi-
nation, and she held out the curling ends to Eleanor.
"Hold them thus," and she raised the poniard
quickly to her head. In an inst;mt the tumbling
cascade had become a river of gold on the ground,
glimmering in the light of the outer embers. With
deft fingers Gyll twisted the locks tightly, but left
both ends loose as they had fallen. Then she iiasscd
the coil over the Indian's head until it reached his
throat. Next she twined it above and beneath the
stout, depending branch that formed his pillow. At
the nape of his neck she braided the loose strands
firmly together, while in and out amid the tresses
she intertwined the galloon of ribbon which had |)re-
viously decked her head. Finally she made fast this
strange bond with a hard knot in the ribbon whose
scarlet ends were at last boimd high above him to an
overhanging vine. Then, with a signal to Eleanor,
who was now lost in the excitement of the moment,
being not a whit behind the other in courage, (lyll
stepped across the barrier, and, with the poniard and
birch bow in her hands, led the way to the glade's
entrance.

In a moment they had regained the trail. Here
they paused, listening, undecided whether to hide in
the dense jungle or to follow the jiathway. Towaye,
however, only snored in sleep. He had moved slight-
ly on feeling the ringlets touch his throat, but the
wine still possessed him.

191

:^''?.^W^-

John Vytal

Night and day met. The intermediate hour of
dawn brought a dim gray hght to the tree-toi)s. Like
a silver-green ocean the high surface of birch and
willow foliage, stirred by the whisper of a morning
breeze, murmured resiwnse from its distant border
where the surf of leaves broke slowly into spray.

The sun rose and fathomed the forest obliquely
where it could. By the slant of its rays the women
gained some knowledge of their position, and, keep-
ing the sun on their right, followed the trail in a
northerly direction. For an hour they went on with-
out stopping or turning to look behind.

But at last they came to a sudden halt, hearing a
step even lighter than their own just beyond a bend
in the trail ahead of them. Drawing to one side be-
hind a wild hedge -row in the forest, they waited,
breathless. The low rustle ceased. The person ap-
proaching them had evidently come to a stand-still.
Then, t'urough the brambles, they saw a figure, dusky
and bare save for a girdle of deerskin. The head
was hidden by an oak ■ branch. Gyll's lips ceime
close to Eleanor's ear. " 'Tis Towayel"

"No; he is too tall."

The man stepped forward a pace and stood like a
stag, hstening. Eleanor grasped Gyll's arm, com-
peUing silence, while Gyll herself nervously tightened
her hold on the dagger's handle.

Again the Indian advanced, and now turned toward
them. Seeing his face, the two women rose to their
feet behind the wall of briars. " Manteo!"

An hour later the cressets of the fortress armory
cast their glare across many grave and apprehensive
faces whose concern was heightened by an enforced
silence.

"Say nothing of Mistress Dare; he will consider
192

A Tale of the Lost Colony

it his duty to go in search of her, and must not." The
words were Marlowe's.

Out in the hallway, Governor White, pale and hag-
gard, was giving orders to a small company of sol-
diers, who, though worn out with fatigue, were re-
arming themselves as though for a second combat.
" To the south ! my good men, hasten I We must
pursue. Even now, perchance, we are too late. But
stay . . . Who comes? . . . No . . . there is no need
. . . Ah, my daughter Eleanor, 5'ou are here!"

Thus, at the very moment of the governor's out-
starting, which, to his despair, had been so long de-
layed by the battle, Eleanor returned.

"My father!" Her eyes were moist with tears,
her hands caressed him, but even now she could not
wait. The armory's door stcnxl open. "Virginia
little Virginia," she said in the old, half-mechanicai
way, yet still very anxiously.
" She is asleep and well. "

"And—" But she could not voice the question
of her heart.

The governor smiled in his kindly, unknowing
way. "Yes; Ananias, too, is safe. Yet a terrible
battle bath been fought. "

She stood for an instant mute and motionless, the
dread anguish of uncertainty in her eyes. Then
she hurried into the armory.

Here the first sight that met her searching glance
was her child sleeping in Margery Harvie's arms
She bent over and kissed it on the forehead— once ;
then turned to a group of men who stood in a comer
encircling a central, recumbent figure that was rest-
ing on a bare settle of oak.

A low moan rose in her heart, and whether or not
it escaped her lips she never knew.
On the settle lay John Vytal, prostrate and uncon-
. N 193

John Vytal

■••

Scious, his left arm extended to the floor, to which
his half-sheathed sword had fallen, the belt having
been unbuckled that his corselet might be unloosed.
Ills fingers tenaciously grasped the scabbard. The
right hand lay across his breast, which had been
bared that a chirurgeon, who st(xxl near by might
listen to the heart-beats. Under the head of the
wounded man a folded cloak had been placed as
a pillow, and his morion, having been removed re-
vealed a great black and gray flecked mane of hair,
bni.shed back to cool his forehead. The brow itself,
streaked with crimson, showed a deep line from tem-
ple to temple where the helmet had cut into it. The
face, as though chiselled in bronze, was still stem
and relentless, save for a grim, triumphant look of
victory that shone in the sharp feature i like the cres-
set-light across his .sword.

Marlowe stood erect, watching him, until suddenly
a voice, inarticulate, low, and questioning, seemed to
break the spell ihat bound them all to the depths of
anxious silence.

Marlowe turned. "Thank God!" he said "you
are saved. Speak to him." And, with all the re-
lief m the poet's voice, there was a note of pain; for
he had read her eyes.
"Captain Vytal."

The soldier stirred as though in an abyss of sleep
his breast heaving slightly.

"John Vytal." The name was spoken in a low
voice, yet, far away in the world that sound and sight
fathom not by utterance or gaze, but only by their
meaning, one spirit was calling to another.
The captain opened his eyes slowly.
"Thanks be to Heaven!" And Marlowe turned to
bleanoi . " Your salvation is his as "'»11. "
Vytal's lips parted. "Salvation? Wb-it mean
194

A Talc of the Lost Colony

you by salvation ?•• He forced himself t„ sit upriKht
and his voice rose harsh as a night wind. "Has
Mistress Dare been nigh to danger?"

Neither Marlowe nor Eleanor made ans-, r. but
t-yll Croyden, who now had joined the group, ieiJied
laughing: "Ay that have we both. MaslJr Kalnli
Contempt and Towaye snared us cunningly, but a
wcmch s wit outdid them, and, alas! a wench's hair "

bhe stroked her close<ut curls dolefully

Vytal staggered to his feet, and, facing Marlowe

questioned him like a judge of the Inquisitrn!

VVherefore didst thou not make this known to me^'

The poet met his gaze unflinchingly. " I thought-"
1 nought! The word was re|)eated in a frigid,

thmk._ The daughter of our (fovemor was in jeop-

" Y^ captain, and our colony also. I deemed it
advisable not to pit one duty against another. On
coming ashore after the battle I would have told you
but you had swooned. " '

Vytal looked at him in silence; then, finally sink-
mg down again to a sitting posture, " You were right
cobny." "''"" •""' Eleanor's-" Twas for'^ou;

splnt.^^^ ^°" '^'*'" "'** ^^- ""^°"' «''^"gth is
But he sat bolt-upright and made as if to rebuckle
his sword-belt in a dazed, automatic way. "Nay
madam; it is unimpaired."

^>,.^^ ^'fi'^^his time a .solitary man, far to the .south-
ward, struck inland from the shore. It was Frazer

te r'"? '""T " '''''^' '" "•^-^ he believed was To
be the scene of a conquest which should retrieve it
On coming to the glade, however, and to the arbor
195

John Vytal

in which Eleanor and Gyll Croyden had been im-
prisoned, he stiMxl .still before the thrcMhold in mute
astonishment. There, near the aanes of a fire, hy
'!'• vc, basking in the sunlight, sound asleep.
Aiuaicdly the youth started forward and ixM;red into
the arbor. It was empty. A.ssuring hiiivtelf of this,
he stamped and sworo roundly, but, with a second
glance at the slumbering Indian, his expression
changed. A sen.se of humor a.ssertcl itself above
chagrin and even astonishment in the boyish eyes.
"How now?" he laughed. " Tis a court masque. L,o,
a golden necklace and bcribboncd peruke garnish
our Lucifer I" He shook Towaye none too gently
with his foot. The Indian, rolling over, rubbed his
eyes and strove to sit upright, but his bond held
him fast to the stout grape-vine. " I dreamed that
I tried once before," he ;jaid, in sleepy bewilder-
ment ; " but the Daughter of the Sun hath woven a
spell."

"Fool!" ejaculated Frazer.

"Nay, no fool. 'Twas she and the captive sun-
light which, escaping its bondage, entered my body
at her command and overpowered it."

Frazer 's eyes, falling on an empty bottle, brought
him comprehension, and his thoughts went back to
another bottle which but recently had worked his
own failure. The remembrance decreased his se-
verity. He unbraided the peruke, "like a barber,"
he said, and bade the Indian join him in pursuing
the women.

At this Sir Walter St. Magil, who had followed
him from the shore, entered the opening. " I have
come in search of you."

"Unbidden!" returned Frazer, hotly.

St. Magil smiled. " You will not remonstrate on
hearing the ciuse."

196

A Talc of the Lost Colony

" Nay, for I have not the time. No cause delays
rae."

"Whither go you, then?"

Frazer made no answer.

" Ah, for some liaison, I doubt not. Mark me, a
woman will work your downfall."

The youth laughed carelessly, and would have
gone away, but his friend detained him. " A ship
from Spain has joined the Atadre de Dios. We re-
turn across the seas. Philip will invade England."

Frazer started, trembled. His cheeks flushed, a
new light shone in the blue eyes. The whole ex-
p- ssion read : Ambition.

"Invade England I"

"Yes; with an armada so great that the issue
is foregone. Natural ly, your Highness "—the title
came half ironical, half serious — "will want to step
first on English soil, no more as Ralph Contempt or
Frazer."

"Nay, no more." The echo sounded drear../.

"Now," pursued St. Magil, "we have bigger fish
to fry than these of Virginia. Roanoke is but a min-
now, England a whale."

Frazer's lips parted, smiling. " I have had many
names," he said, "but the whale unplea.santly sug-
gests a new one— Jonah ! Now, a minnow—" but
he was only babbling words detached from thoughts,
all-expectant, bewildered, glad, eager, like a child ori
Christmas Eve.

"Your Highness," observed the other, "will make
a merry — "
"Hush, Sir Walter, you tempt Fortune."

CHAPTER XVI

" What, rebels, do j'ou shrink and sound retreat?"

— Marlowe, in Edward the Second.

We come now to a mile-stone in the road of Time,
a mere pebble it may seem to some, but to the colony
of Roanoke it marked a sudden turning in Life's
pathway.

Perhaps nothing is more unaccountably inconsist-
ent than the action of men under new and strange
conditions. As there is no precedent to predict the
iT~-.\xe, reason falls back upon itself, and fails; the
unexpected happens. Even keen perception and
an intimate knowledge of human nature confound
the rule with its exception, trying to solve the prob-
lem by its proofs, or to prove it by the solution.

The colonists of Roanoke had fought bravely for
their rights. Surely men like these could be abashed
by nothing. But to make war against a present,
actual enemy and against obscure, slow-moving
Destiny are different matters. Many are fitted for
one or the other contest, few for both.

On a morning early in September numerous plant-
ers and soldiers, led by Ananias Dare, stood before
the house ot Jovernor White. The governor himself
was in his doorway, listening sadly to their appeal.

"We have been so weakened in numbers," said

Ananias, " that there is but one chance left. " It is

true the Spanish ship has not reappeared, but who

shall say that a force far more powerful may not

193

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John Vytal; A Tale of the Lost Colony

at any time return against us? The Admiral and
fly-boat go back, as you know, to England, neces-
sarily in charge of Captain Pomp, who alone is lilted
to command them, and of several mariners. Tliis,
however, is not enough. Let us all return."

The governor looked from the face of his son-in-
law to the many others, and, with dismay, found
only agreement in their expressions. " What mean
you ?" he asked, helplessly. " Cannot all the planters
and chartered officers wait yet longer? Others will
come, I doubt not, from England without our seeking.
To return as the earlier settlers did will cast discredit
not only on us, but upon this great land of which a
part is now our country's." He paused, seeking
vainly for looks of acquiescence.

"Nay, we can return anon," said Ananias, "with
more husbandmen to superintend th'^ raising of our
crops ; with more soldiers to defend us, and artificers
to enlarge our town ; with additional supplies, of which
we are in so sore a need — " he broke off suddenly,
his wife appearing at an ojien window near the door.
The child was in her arms. There was a long silence,
but at last the governor sjwke again.

" Some must, of a surety, stay. This dominion is a
charge not to be forsaken utterly. Who, then, must
needs depart?"

Ananias hesitated, seeing the question repeated in
Eleanor's eyes. For a time, as the governor searched
their faces, no man gave answer, a few because the
plan really pained them, more merely realizing that
it would wound another. .Moreover, thcj' felt a cer-
tain shame bom of the prearranged suggestion. At
this moment Christopher Marlowe and P iger Prat,
having left Vytal in the fortress, joined the group,
curious to learn what was going forward.

At length Ananias summoned up his courage.
195

V^i

"ii'M

John Vytal

"We must go," he said, in a voice that strove to hide
eagerness beneath a tone suggesting sacrifice. " You
and Eleanor, I, and as many others as choose to ac-
company us."

The governor's kindly eyes grew moist. "I go?"
he asked, falteringly — "11" He questioned them
with a sorrowful look that embraced the whole gath-
ering; but the men nodded their heads gravely.
" Who, then, would remain to govern and foster you?
I should be the stigma and laughing-stock of Eng-
land. Our charter is in my name and in the names
of my twelve assistants. Who, I ask you, has the
right to become governor in my stead?"

To this the voice of all gave response, with one
accord : " John Vytal. "

" Yes," echoed Ananias. "John Vs^tal. He is best
fitted for it; you for the request at court. Your
influence, your — " but he was suddenly interrupted.

A clear, feminine voice spoke from the window,
and Eleanor handed her child to Margery Harvie,
who stood within the room. " It shall not be I Leave
our colony, our home? Leave that which we have
bought with so much blood and suffering? Desert
our sacred trust? Cancel by cowardice the debt we
owe to God and the queen? Oh, my friends, we came
not hither for this. 1 beseech you, 1 coimnand you,
consider, and fling not your honor thus away!" Her
eyes were flashing now, their first cold scorn of An-
anias lost in love for the people, yet in burning in-
dignation at their unforeseen demand. One hand
was on the sill, the other on the casement at her side.
Her cheeks, first pale with contempt for the spokes-
man, were flushed now with deep crimson ; her voice
was all the more eloquent of its tremor. "Can you
not look beyond the present? Can you not sec that,
as my father says, many more will follow us from

^^^^

:i«

■*'», 'ff.' ^*av ■'■ -iijlj *'■

A Tale of the Lost Colony

England? Sir Walter Raleigh hath promised that
new expeditions and increased numbers shall share
our home if we succeed. // tve succeed ! Can there
be an 'if ' before that word 'succeed'? Was there
an 'if in your hearts when you fought against
our Spanish foe? Nay, nay, m- brothers. Failure
must not be within our ken. Have you no care for
the great futu. :? Is it no joy to think that by our
own efforts a vast nation may build upon the corner-
stone we lay? Who knows? Are we not perchance
sowing that England and all the world may reap
some unimaginable benefit thereby? The land is
fair— you know better than I its bounteous offerings
and boundless scope— and, being fair, shall we then
desecrate it with the smirch of cowardice? Oh, my
friends, I pray you reconsider I" Her voice sank
lower in the final plea.

A dull murmur ran through the group, whether
of approbation or disapproval she could not tell.

Marlowe started. " It will kill Vytal, " he muttered,
as though to himself, and, on hearing this, the stout
soldier beside him looked bewildered.

" Kill Vytal !" repeated Roger. " Gad, man, what
mean you?" But now his eyes, rolling up to look at
Eleanor, showed that suddenly he had understood.

Then Roger Prat seized the thread of the Fates in
his own impulsive hand and wove it into a strange
pattern, whether for ill or good, none could tell.

Swaggering forward, he elbowed his way through
the crowd until he stood before the governor. Then
he spoke in a low voice. " It cpnnot be averted. I
have seen men thus bewitched on the eve of battle.
I have cursed, laughed, coaxed, scolded, all without
avail. And I, you know, have great influence, both
with sword and— and tabor, which is scarce less
to be considered. But retreat gets into their quak-

■h-tJ^&!^. r«jr>

IfT^ftF

-^-«ri

I l;i

John Vytal

ing hearts. The mischief is irreparable. There-
fore, under your favor, acting for Captain Vytal, I
will divide them as is my custom in a war — they
who would go and they who would remain. Thus
we can know men from chicken.s."

The governor, sighing, hesitated. "Must it be?"
he asked, half aloud.

"We shall see," said Prat, and White inclined his
head in ])ermission.

Roger turned and faced the gathering. "Divide
yourselves, my masters. His Excellency conuuands
that they who would desert — I mean return — stand
still, while they who would remain at Roanoke un-
der Captain Vytal come nearer."

The crowd wavered, only Marlowe and Dyonis
Ilarvie stepping forward.

"Ah," observed Prat, "a goodly throng! One,
two, and I make three ; then the captain, Hugh Rouse,
and King Lud make six. Body o' mel 'Tis in-
deed an invincible company left to defend the settle-
ment." He wagged his head, and, turning to the
governor, stood at salute between ChriL opher and
Dyonis. "We are ready, your Excellency."

There was something so pathetically appealing
in the humor which had marshalled three men as
though they were an army that the consciences of
many on-lookers smote them, until first one, then
another and another, went forward and stood beside
the military file. Before long some threescore were
elbow to elbow, back to breast, in a double line, not
unlike in formation and precision that which but a
few days before had so bravely defended the Admiral.

Prat stepped out from the ranks, and, wheeling,
faced the company. One hand was on his sword-
hilt, the other he waved aloft. "Thank you," he
9a'ul ; " I shall play to you my own new song called
?02

A Tale ot" the Lost Colony

' Roanoke' in reward for this, and you shall see King
Lud dance for very joy. Your consciences, more-
over, shall tickle you, which spitefully pricked be-
fore." Then, pushing his way through the double
file, he stood before the rear group, who, headed by
Ananias Dare, hung their heads in sullen silence.
"The rear-guard," said I-'rat, surveying them with
contemptuous irony, " hath also its uses. It makes
<jur front the more glorious by comparison; it in-
spires thankfulness in our hearts that we are not of
it. A lion, now, might not be half so proud had he
not a frightened hare to look uiwn." His manner
grew more serious. " You are determined to leave?"

"Yes, determined," replied Ananias, who like
most weak natures had his moments of fitful obsti-
nacy.

And the men, in concert, echoed, "Yes."

Once more Eleanor spoke. "There shall be no
strife," she said. " We cannot stay you. Go, then ;
but my father and I remain."

"Nay, nay," came from the voices not of those
who were to leave, but of the others who had elected
to cast in their lot with Vytal's. "Nay, the gov-
ernor must go to seek assistance, and return hither
for our salvation. That is sure."

Eleanor's voice broke. "My people, you hurt me
to the quick."

Prat, doffing his cap, turned to her. " It must be,"
he said, mournfully. "Oh, indeed, H must be I I
have collogued with them, I have 3st at dice, I
have harangued them, but all in vain." He went
forward, wheeled about again, and addressed the
group of volunteers. "Comrades, I have but one
suggestion." He cast a sidelong glance at Ananias.
" Master Dare must stay. We cannot spare the gov-
ernor's assistant." The men sinilcj grimly. "And,
203

.I'^r''

■IBPl

lW^

r't.

John Vytal

if I may say so. Mistress Dare should likewise remeiin
among us as a — a kind of hostage from his Excel-
lency, her father, to assure us that he will return with
aid."

This was the moment in which Roger meddled with
Fate.

The governor's benevolent face went a shade paler
as he looked at the corpulent soldier. " Then you,
too. Prat, are against us?" But Roger only wagged
his head and rolled his eyes as who should say,
" Interpret the action as you will, I, at least, feel no
compunction."

Eleanor scanned his face, a new flush mounting
to her cheeks. Her mind was in a turmoil. Great
forces strove one against another in her heart ; on
the one side her powerful filial devotion, which im-
pelled her to depart from England with her lather;
on the other her love for the colony, her unflinching
resolution to stand by it, her scorn for the husband
who sought only selfishly to escape; and, with all
these — but no ; she would not define that control even
to herself. Yet deep, vivid, merciless, a name in her
soul defined it whether she would or not.

She said nothing, but withdrew from the window
to caress her child. A tear fell on little Virginia's
forehead, and then soft fingers wiped it away as
though to obliterate the symbol of Sorrow's bap-
tism.

And now a low, broken murmur rose from with-
out.

" Yes, as a kind of hostage," said one.

"A token of good faith," added another. "And
she shall be as a queen unto us."

"Then, surely," observed a third, "his Excellency
will come back with succor."

"It is well."

204

tiT\*^i(S''«s;'

if^'K... . i-j^

A Tale of the Lost Colony

" And the brave Master Dare must share our fate."

"Hal That is best of all."

" Roger Prat speaks wisely. "

'Ay," echoed many, "your round head, Roger, is
not all whim."

He laughed and rejoined Marlowe. " Your mas-
ter will be angry," said the poet.

"Not in his heart. Master Christopher."

The gathering dispersed, casting amused glances
at Ananias, who, now pale, mortified, and desjierate,
entered the house for his only antidote against re-
morse and fear.

The governor made way for him on the threshold
and stood for some minutes watching the retreating
figures of his colonists. Then he, too, withdrew
slowly, and his step for the first time suggested in-
firmity, his face age.

On the following morning Vytal met Eleanor Dare
near the shore. " You are going?" he asked.

"No."

"Twould save you from many hardships."

" I count them blessings. Few women are allowed
to suffer in so good a cause. Their pain shows no
result."

" Nay, Mistress Dare, the effect lies too deep per-
chance for mortal eyes to see it. I was once wont to
consider women so many smocks and kirtles that
clothed the air, but lately mine eyes have read the
truth." His manner was in no way passionate, but
only deep with reverence and admiration. The pa.s-
sion lay iron-bound within him. Onlj' his eyes could
not utterly conceal its presence; and, l(K)king up to
them, she became once more a child. With all others
she was a woman, often imperious and always per-
fectly at ease, yet wit'li this man she was forever
205

«4 2K^2mS7*F»5=^^^?£SrsF

John Vytal

forced to assume the defensive, not against hint,
but herself. She looked up at him now for the first
time with a glance of analysis. Until to-day she
had never considered Vytal's character in detail.
Hitherto he had been a force, intangible, but dom-
inant, like the tide or wind. But now that emer-
gencies and crises had revealed her heart to her mind,
against all that mind's resistance, he, too, became
actual, and despite herself she knew him to be the
one man whom she could love. Yet the word " love "
was unutterable even in her depths. She called it
by no name, nor applied a word to his own devotion.
Only the thought came to her, as she met his look,
that this inexplicable, taciturn Fate bending over
her would become a child like herself beneath the
touch of a requited— but even then she interrupted
her thoughts with speech. " I could not have con-
sented to leave our colony, even if Roger Prat — "
she hesitated.

Vytal's manner grew more stem. "Roger Prat?
What has he to do with it?"

She looked troubled. "Oh, naught, beUeve me —
I think he — but no — I mean — "

"What?"

" He believed 'twas for the best, and so he demand-
ed that I — should stay."

Vytal grasped his sword-hilt. "Is 't possible he
dared to interfere? Do you mean 'twas Prat sug-
gested hostages? Can it be my own man who hath
exposed you to the hazard of remaining?"

" No, stay, Captain Vytal. Harm not the fellow.
Dost not—" But she broke f>ff suddenly, her head
drooping to hide the deep flush which had mounted
to her cheeks.

" 'Twas impertinence," declared Vytal, as though
to himself. " Nay, more, it was profanation to thwart
206

•„wm

A Tale of the Lost Colony

the will of Heaven, by which you would have been
saved from this cruel life."

She looked up at him again, a wistful doubt in her
eyes. "Then you— would have— me return?"

He drew himself to his full height in the old sol-
dierly way, as though facing an ordeal. " I would. "

" Wherefore?" The word came in a low whisper,
as though a woman's heart were smking with the
voice to endless silence.

" I consider jiour happiness, and not—" He paused
and turned to leave.

She spoke no detaining word, but only stood watch-
ing him as he walked away to the fortress, and her
eyes were no longer haunted by misgiving.

"Roger."

;;Ay."

"Hereafter ignore the dictates of impulse save in
matters of your calling. Obey my commands alone,
or seek another friend. "

" But, captain — "

"Stay, I ask no explanation nor apology The
thing is done."

At sunrise the whole colony, save the governor
and his daughter, b-ving assembled on the sl.ore,
was divided into two parties— those who were lading
cock-boats and barges with provisions prior to their
departure, and those who merely assisted in tlie
embarkation with a secondary interest, listless and
mutely sad.

Soon, like the pinions of two great sea-fowl, wide-
spread to bear them upward from a billow, the sails of
the fly-boat and Admiral, mounting from yard to
yard, held all eyes at gaze.

Prat^ watching them with a wry face, turned to
207

[

John Vytal

Marlowe, who stood beside him. "Damned por-
tentsl" he exclaimed.

"Nay, Roger, they are but vultures awaiting to
bear away the corpse of Courage." Prat eyed hira
with a kind of wonder. "Or," pursued the poet,
carelessly, " those sails are the flags of truce we wave
to Destiny. "

" Master Kyt," asked Roger, with a look of unprec-
edented embarrassment, " is 't a hard thing to write
poesy?"

Marlowe, still in abstraction, failed to note the pre-
posterous suggestion that underlay the query. He
made answer seemingly to himself. " 'Tis easy to
indite the 'Jigging Conceits of Rhyming Mother
Wits,' " he observed, quoting from the prelude to his
"Tamburlaine."* "It is within man's compass to
make a 'mighty line' or so; but to write poetry is
impossible."

" Nay, but you yourself. Master Christopher—"

"No, not I, nor any one can scan the lines en-
grailed by a golden pen on the scroll of sunset, or
echo the music of a breeze."

The soldier looked mournful, his chin sinking on
his chest until a triple fold submerged it. " I would
fain have invented a poem myself," he avowed, gloom-
ily. " And, indeed, have written a song of the men
of Roanoke. Lack-a-dayl 'tis but a jigging mother
of rhyme, 1 fear, and poorly done."

Marlowe surveyed him in silence for a moment,
then laughed gayly and turned away.

At the same moment a flutter of white scraps, hke
torn paper, fell to Roger's boots.

The gathering that lined the water's edge was now
divided in the centre, and Governor White walked

• This prelude was written in scorn of his predecessors, and
to herald his own conception of a loftier English drama.
208

A Tale of the Lost Colony

between the ranks, smiling to one and another on
either side to conceal the sadness of his farewell. As
he came half-way to the shore, Marlowe went forward
and stopped him. Holding out a heavy [lackct, the
poet spoke in a low voice. "I pray you see to
it that this is delivered to Edward Alleyn, an actor
of plays, who dwells in the Blackfriars, or, if he be
not readily found, then, I pray you, leave it at the
sign of ' The Three Bibles,' in charge of Paul Merlin,
a bookseller. It was from his shop that 1 joined
John Vytal in the fight for your daughter's honor. I
doubt not you will leave this there as my reward.
The packet contains certain stage conceits begun
in England and finished here."

" It shall be delivered," said the governor. " I am,
indeed, happy thus to be made a humble sharer in
the building of your fame."

The poet smiled. "Fame!" he said. "Tis not
for that I sing."

And now Governor White made his way to the
water, while many gathered sorrowfully around him
to place letters in his charge.

Eleanor went down to the nca hand-in-hand with
her father. Those who were to leave had already
boarded the two vessels, with the exception of a sailor
and Captain Pomp, who stood, befeathered hat in
hand, beside the governor's small-boat.

As John White was about to step over the gunwale
of this craft, Vytal approached him. "Since it must
be," .said the .soldier, "I have sought at least to ex-
onerate you from all slander in England and charges
of desertion. The Oxford preacher hath writ this,"
and he handed a scroll of paper to the governor. It
read as follows :

" May it please you. .er Majesty'.s subjects of England, we,
your friends and countrymen, tlie planters in Virginia, do by
O 209

John Vytal

yxr"

thexe let you and every (une| of you to understand that for the
present nnd apeedy supply of certain our known and apparent
lacks and needs, must requisite and necessary for the good
and happy planting of us, or any other in this land of Virginia,
we all of one mind and consent have most earnestly entreated
and incessantly rei|uested John White. Governor of the plant-
ers in VirKinia, to pans into CnRlnnd for the lictter itnd more
assured help, and setting forward of the foresaid supplies, and
knowing assuredly that he both can best and will labor and
take pains in that behalf for us all, and he not once but often
refusing it for our sakes, and for the honor and maintenance
of the action hath at last, thouf^h much against hi.^ will,
through our importunacy yielded to leave his government ond
all his goods amniig us, and himself in all our behalfs to pass
into England, of whose knowledge and fiilelity in handling
this matter, as all others, we do assure ourselves by these
presents, and will you to give all credit thereunto, the 2J of
August, 1587.'*

Eleanor had already said good-bye in private, bui
once more she kissed her father, firessed his hand,
whispered in his ear, and then, as he stepped into the
cuck-boat which awaited him, returned to her baby,
that lay crowing in its nurse's arms,

" Body o' me," said a voice near by. "The prow
hangs a-land. Dame C(x:k-boat refuse to be gone.
Hi, little Rouse, come help them."

The two joined their fellnw, who, under Captain
Pomp's directions, was .striving to launch the craft,
which had been nearly deserted by an ebb-tide.

"Whi.st!" said Roger in Hugh's ear, "we'll make
Master Dare give aid. "

Hugh looked at the assistant and saw a sorry pit:t-
ure. " 'Tis a ghost," he exclaimed, "not a man in
flesh and fell."

" The corpse of Courage," added Prat, after the
poet's manner.

• From the personal account of Governor White, in Hak-

iuyt's Vuya^s,

210

A Talc of the Lost Colony

The rarin they discussed seemed hkc a ithost in-
deed, thai would fade with the mist when the sun
rose higher. Ills face, iKilhd and hag^anl, was
turned toward the ccx;k-lxKit as to a last resort.

"He would leave," olxserved Rouse, while, side by
side with Rotjer, he pushed the governor's craft slow-
ly forv.- ird. For a moment the keel cea.sed jjratiiiu
on the shin(;le, and Prat turned to Ananias. "Oh,
Master Dare, I pray you nWu us aid I 'Tis a most
imconscionable task!" At which one or two others
near the cock- boat exchanged winks and covert
smiles. They showed no mercy. Dare, between
the two soldiers, was forced himself to cut the last
thread between danger and .safety.

The prow fell free, and finally the boat was floating.
Then the on-lookcrs saw Ananias st;igger, or, rather,
almost spring for'V,ir(I, havin;^, the, siip[K).s«l, lost
his balance as the craft shot out from l;..id. Hut
Hugh's immense hand, grasping his lielt, pulled
him backward to save him (the by-stimders believed)
from a ducking. Rouse and Prat walked away arm-
in-arm. "Well d<me, miilget; I had not thought
so dense a brain would fathom his intention."

Slowly the Admiral and fly-boat sailed away,
their hulls, bulwarks, and deck-houses vanishing
beyond the inlet from the ocean until only the shrouds
remained, and now the whole colony had left the
shore, save one woman. Long she Wcitchcd the sails
that, like white clouds, seemed to grow smaller, and
at last dis.solve entirely beneath the eastern sun.

Finally a naked horizon met Eleanor's eyes at the
edge of a brassy sea, and she turned back to the town.

CHAPTER XVII

' What we have done our heart-blood shall maintain."
—Marlowe, in Edward the Second.

" Thy words are swords. "

—Marlowe, in Tamburlaine.

To those who, long afterwards, recalled the months
and month.s that followed Governor White's depart-
ure there was no clear, consecutive reminiscence in
the mind'.s eye. Only one or two vivid scenes, en-
acted in those anxious days, graved themselves on
memory. All else was but a medley of hours and
seasons, and even years, quick-changing, confused,
monotono'is yet varied, listless yet portentous and
pregnant — the foetus of the Future in the Present's
womb. Hope burned brightly, waned, flared again,
flickered, and seemed to die. For even Hope can-
not live by Hope alone forever; only grief is self-
sustaining. And grief came to the colony of Roa-
noke. Pestilence, tempests and privations, famine,
drought, and mortality, all conspired in turn against
their one invincible enemy whose name is Courage.

A desperate, absorbing question haunted the faces
of men, v/omen, and children ; a question first asked
in words, next mutely from eye to eye, then not at
all. When? when? The word holds all the meaning
of existence, and the meaning is a question. Despair
is the death of Hope ; Resignation, the deep-cut grave.
Yet from the grave a ghost returns to whisper,
"Then."

212

wli

IT.-:-?- I*1L I'WiSr.tsP^llE.-

John Vytal: A Tale o^the Lost Colony

The ghost of Hope sti' haiintt;' H" inoke Island.

Surely some day the ..-s :,'rie<3 ',c( watchful eyes
would see a sail to the <;."<tv7; rd. First the set-
tlers said "To-morrow," then "Next month," and at
last, " Within a year John White will bring deliv-
erance."

But summers and winters passed until two whole
years had gone, and speculation was eschewed by
all as vain self-torture.

Crops failed; husbandry languished. Life at last
came to a low ebb. This may seem unaccountable
when one considers that about threescore able-bod-
ied men, with perhaps a dozen women and children,
were not castaways without shelter, but well-housed
settlers. Yet the fact remains undeniable; and the
cause is not far to seek. Hope had made the colo-
nists dependent on itself. They had looked for a
.sjieedy deliverance. Without this expectation their
industry, at the outset, after Governor White's de-
parture, would not have waned, but increased. Per-
ceiving no assistance possible from an outside source,
the little company, relying on its own endeavors,
would have striven to shape the future independently.
But that sail, ever in the mind's eye, allured them.
Save for two or three men who were, above all, self-
reliant, the colony, before now, would have perished.
Fortunately, one of these had learned to depreciate
the kindness of Destiny. In his mental vision there
was no sail to the eastward, nor ever would be unless
a ship actually appeared on the horizon. E xpcriencc,
head-master of this school-boy world, could boast of
at least one graduate on Roanoke.

"Manteo, the end is near. I have sought for over
two years to 'stablish ourselves firmly, .so that, even
were John White's absence indefinitely prolonged.
213

John Vytal

we might yet survive. But your land considers us
aliens. The end is near."

"Yes, my brother, for that reason I have come
hither from the island of Croatan. The Enghsh are
not aUens, but friends and brethren. Our crops shall
be their crops, our habitation theirs as well. My
name is Manteo, yet also Lord of Roanoke.* Ask
your neople to come and be my children on the isle
of Croatan. Here the tongue of the earth cleaves
to its mouth. All things die thirsting. The springs
of fresh water are spent and run not ; the dust chokes
their throats, and still no cloud appears. Even the
sky panteth. 1 say to you, come away."

" But, Manteo, wherefore? Is 't any better at your
abode?"

" It is ; for at Croatan the forest \. aters bring laugh-
ter from the heart of the world, and are never hushed.
The whis)ier of Roanoke's well-springs is lii>deep
and meaningless, while we of Croatan hear a spirit
singing, 'Come.' The song is to you, for we are
there aire: idy. I repeat it: 'Come.'"
" But your crops are needed for your kinsmen."
"Yes; ye are our kinsmen."
" So be it. On the morrow, then, thy lot is ours
as well."

At noon the colonists assembled near the fortress,
while John Vytal spoke to them. By the captain's
side stood Manteo, utterly irapiissive, and, next to
the Indian, Christopher Marlowe, seemingly wrappal
in a high abstract! m. In the foremost line of the
omall half-circle Hugh Rouse and Roger Prat were
intently listening; while from a knoll, apart from

• He had been created a peer by Raleigh's preferment, and
was the first to receive a title in .\inerica.
214

A Tale of the Lost Colony

the group, yet well within earshot, Eleanor Dare
watched the speaker. About the foot of the mound
a Uttle girl, apparently about three years old, played
with drooping wild -flowers. Like a butterfly just
from the cocoon, she flittered hither and thither, with
uncertain, hesitating motion, yet a grace .so light
and aerial that seemingly a thread of sunlight could
have bound her, since no breeze was there to ^.rry
her away. Though actual gossamer wings were
unaccountably lacking, a gossamer spirit was hers,
ethereal, as if bom of a maiden's dream. Yet, as the
wing of a butterfly winces if the flower it touches
droops, there was that in her which told vaguely of
sorrow, as though in the past, long before her earthly
life, her devotion for some one had been repelled
And now even these strange wild ferns and unnamed
blossoms of the field about her hung their heads and
turned away. Yet she was of them. Was the sad-
ness an inborn, unconscious memory, a dim result
arising from the fact that her father had been spurned,
and that of the contempt and repugnance in which
her mother had held him, long months before Vir-
ginia's birth, she was the offspring?

These were the thoughts and questions in the mind
of Marlowe as he turned to watch the child at play.
Her mystic sadness was not the effect of an infancy
amid hardship and affliction. He believed she would
never be touched by tangible sorrows. He pictured
her as grown to womanhood, yet never amenable to
ordinary grief. No; it was only that the maiden's
dream from which this child seemed sprung had end-
ed with an awakening from vague and roseate fancies
to a cold, remorseless fact. The soul of the child hud
no father ; she was not conceived of love. The world
holds many like her, beautiful and sound in body,
and in spirit beautiful but incomplete.
215

John Vytal

As the poet watched her playing about her mother's
feet, with all the babble and waywardness of blithe-
some elfinry, his thoughts grew more abstracted.
He no longer saw the sunny head, the peony lips,
and the little oval face, mirthful but very pale; he
no longer compared the features to Eleanor's, noting
the surface likeness, the difference underneath; he
no longer drew a distinction between the spiritual
deeps of the mother's eyes and the mystical pre-
scienf-e of the daughter's, which lay also beneath a
veil of hazel light.

He was think-ng of the little one as Virginia Dare,
the first-born white child of America. She became
a symbol to him who.se meaning he could but dimly
understand. He considered all the sacrifice by which
she had come into the world, the sacrifice and suffer-
ing in wuich she had been reared, but by no jwetic
hieromancy could he read her meaning. A fate-
spun thread of gold joining the East and West; a
mystery, a portent, a promise — all these she seemed
to Marlowe, yet in meaning so vague and futuritial
as to be beyond all interpretation not divine.

Suddenly, however, the i)oet's thoughts forsook
Virginia, both as the child of Eleanor and of Fate.
Vytal 's clear, short words had forced themselves into
his mind.

" Manteo hath asked us to make our abode with
him and his people at Croatan. In your name I
have answered, ' Yes. ' Here we wait and die, one by
one, of sickness, drought, and famine. My sword
hath been ever ready, and God grant may be always,
to lead you and defend our trust. But against dis-
ease and starvation not all the arms of Spain and
England could prevail. Yet, rather than desert this
realm forever, mark you, 'twere better to leave our
bones as centrontls of the town. If we cannot till
2l6

A Tale of the Lost Colony

the soil and wrest a livelihood therefrom, I say, let
us mingle with it our dust, that others, who come
after, may sow their seed therein and reap a harvest
of fidelity. Even then we should at least have
stayed and been of use to men. We must leave an
heritage behind us, a will and testament, written
perchance in blood, and ineffaceable. This is our
sacred duty. Yet there hath been talk among you
of building a vessel and taking to the sea. So soon
as you begin 1 shall end the labor with fire and the
thing you term a 'bodkin.' Call me tyrant an you
will ; I care not. Stab me at night, build your boats
— even then 1 care not. My will, at least, shall have
stood to the last for duty.

"I see your eyes gaping with surprise. 'Tis be-
cause my voice in this harangue sounds strange.
You consider me — deny it not — a silent wolf. Per-
haps I am so. But sometimes words are needed for
speakers of words. Otherwise I would have said,
'Come,' and led you, without further parley, to Croa-
tan. But you would not have understood ; you would
have murmured. Listen, then. We go to the island
of Croatan on the morrow and live with the Hatteras
tribe. Let those who are fearful bury deep their
most valued possessions; but all may bring with
them what they will. The vinteners, husbandmen,
and gardeners must take their implements, the artif-
icers their tools. You, Hugh Rouse, and you. Prat,
superintend the conveyance of our ordnance, half of
which shall be taken, and half left in the fort. You,
Dyonis, will make the barges ready and man the pin-
nace. You, Kyt Marlowe, carve the name Croatan
beside the main entrance to the town, high up on a
tree-trunk, in fair capitals, that, if the governor do
ever return, he may know of our whereabouts and
come to Croatan.

217

John Vytal

" My friends, the exodus is unavoidable. Yet we
still garrison a hemisphere."

He paused and scanned their faces, while for a
moment all looked up at him as though fearing to
break the spell which for the first time in their knowl-
edge had given him tongue. But presently several
men appeared on the threshold of a neighboring cab-
in, in which Gyll Croyden lived, and from which,
until now, peals of incongruous laughter and the rat-
tle of dice had proceeded at frequent intervals. Fore-
most in the doorway stood Ananias Dare, who, after
hesitating a minute, joined the larger gathering.
"What is afoot?" he asketl of those nearest to him.
" We shall be soon," laughed Prat, " for to-morrow
we leave Roanoke and join the Ilattcras Indians."
"God's pity! They will e.-iterminate us."
At this Manteo, who until now had remained im-
mobile as stone, started forward, but Vytal, with a
word, restrained him, and, turning to the assistant,
spoke in a low voice, so that Eleanor might not hear
his accusation. "Master Dare, you insult a ben-
efactor. Manteo is no murderer, but a generous
host. Bridle your tongue." The tone was author-
itative and coldly harsh, but the very cowardice of
Ananias, paradoxically enough, gave him moments
of obstinate courage. Many there are who fight des-
perately to retreat : fear is bold in its own interests.

" Who gave you command?" he queried. " 'Twas
I suggested to the governor that John Vytal should
assume control. My voice, therefore, deserves the
heed of all ; and 1 say build a ship. By all means
let us haste to England." He turned at the last
and addressed the women nearest to him, while the
hands of Prat and Rouse went impulsively to their
sword-hilts, and their glance hung on Vytal' s face,
asking permission to end the matter immediately
2l8

■ww^-W

A Tale of the Lost Colony

with summary decision. But the captain only scru-
tinized the group seari-ningly.

"Master Dare," ventured Roger, "harangues the
women. His words are not for us. Oh ho, g(M)d
dames, give ear. Ye're to man a shi]) — iconian a ship,
1 mean. Now, one sliall be Mistress Jack-Woman,
another Dame Captain, another SaiUng-Mislress.
In troth, 'tis a lusty crew."

Ananias turned on him angrily. "Sirrah, have
a care, else you shall feel the grip of a hand -lock
w'lhiii the hour."

But Roger resf)onded with a laugh. " Now, what's
a hand-lock. Master Assistant? You've so often
made mention of the thing as tefitting my exalted
station, that methinks 'tis time it were proven real."

He would have given his raillery free rein and run
on further, but Vytal interrupted hiiu. "Desist,
Roger ; your tongue runs ,-iot most unseemly. The
irons are real indeed, and here's a hand sha'I 'ock
them an you show not greater deference to su-
periors."

Ananias smiled at this with triumph, and resumed
liis appeal. "I ask you, my masters, is it not far
better to risk a thousand storms by sea than en-
counter death by torture or slow starvation? 1 doubt
not the Indian chieftain is well meaning, but so also
is Sir Walter Raleigh; yet to what a pass liath his
invitation brought us I The time is come to sa\e
ourselves." He hesitated, for at this moment his
daughter, the little Virginia, who had chased a hum-
ming-bird across the square, stopjxxl in ner flight
and looked up at him. When his eyes fell to hers
he winced perceptibly, and then his face, flushing
for an instant, seemed superlatively beautiful under
the recall of a lost masculinity. But suddenly his
glance wandered to Eleanor, who stood aloof watch-
219

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

ing hira, and the old, drawn, i)allid look reasserted
itself, whereat, slowly, he turned on his heel and,
with eyes shamefully cast down, re-entered the cabin
of Gyll Croyden.
" On the morrow," said Vytal, " we go to Croatan. "

CHAPTER XVlll

* Hia looks do measure heaven ami Jare the gods :
His fiery eyes are fixed upon the earth. "

— MAHLOWE, in Tamburlaine.

Oftentimes the necessity for mere physical ex-
ertion alleviates the dull pain of ;-ioi)olessness and
induces men to forget themselves. The renewed
activity may be long delayed and unsought, but when
at last it comes the change is everywhere apparent.
For months the colony had been subject to a kind
of lethargy, a spirit of retrospection and dark fore-
boding, which even the endeavors of Vytal and his
men could not dispel. 1? on the day of exodus
there was not even an attempt at prophecy. The
tangible present became paramount. Each man,
with a few exceptions, acted for himself, and thus
for all. Even selfishness, if it be positive, may re-
sult in a benefit widespread beyond its own intent.

The sun, rising slowly, seemed at last to pause
and balance itself on the edge of the flaming .sea,
like an oven's red-hot lid for a moment lifted from
its hole. The sky, papery, blue, and shallow — a
ceiling painted azure in clumsy imitation of the heav-
ens — seemed so low as to .shut out air. One might
almost have expected to see strips of the blue i)eel off
in places, cracked by the consuming heat. The
bosom of the sea lay motionless, as if the breath of
life had gone forcer; and the corpse of the earth
was carrion for the sun.

221

John Vytal

But the toilers persisted. The eniigration had be-
gun.

For hours and hours the boats proceeded on their
way until day was nearly gone, and at last, as if
Fate would deride th^ colony, a cloud, for which all
had iiraycd .so long, crept up over the horizon. A
1<)W, tnulllod roar came across the water, and, in the
distance, rain fell.

Ananias Dare, who, with Vytal, Marlowe, and
Manteo, stood in the bow of the pinnace, suggested
that all should immediately return. But Vytal re-
fused. "It would Ix; months," he afTirmed, "even
under the most favor.t'.le conditions, before our plant-
ers could replenish lb' : iorehouse."

At this moment a louder roar than hitherto pro-
claimed the cloud's approach, and a jjall of dark-
ness covered the sea. The effect was memorable.
A .second picture graved itself on observant minds.
To the east, stretching out interminably on one
side, lay the sea, chopping and black as ink. To
the west, the land, sun -clad, extended broad and
limitless. Hoi* and Despair, Life and Death, were
keeping tryst at the brink of ocean. But not for
long. Suddenly a jagged light gashed the heavens,
and, with a terrific detonation, a ball of fire fell to earth.
A great oak on the margin of the forest crashed and
lurched forward, its huge branches splashing in the
sea. The spray, as it fell, leaped up and wetted the
pinnace, a few cold drops sprinkling the face of Ana-
nias Dare. With a groan the assistant sank down,
cowering, to the deck. Again and again the light-
ning flashed on every side, jaggedly tearing the sky
as though against its weave. Yet, as the sea had
not responded with a burst of wrath, but only writhed
slowly, as if in pain too great for utterance, the barges
forged ahead with steady progress toward their goal.
222

A Talc of the Lost Colony

Fortunately, there was but little wind. Merely a
summer thunder- storm had broken over them, the
like of which they had never seen in England.

The rowers (xirsisted stublxirnly in their cum-
brous crafts, while Dyonis f^ripiKxl the pinnace's
helm with phlei^matic iK-rtinacity and looked only
toward Croiitan. Near Dyonis, in the stern, sat
Eleanor, her protc-cting arm and cloak around V'ir-
({inia, who, curiously enou(j;h, iKH-'red out at the storm
with not a trace of childish fear. Vytal, Marlowe,
and Manteo still stood in the Ijow, the former now
and ajjain calling orders to their steersman, while
Ananias, crouching, looked landward over the gun-
wale. Still the long line of boats pushed on like
a school of whales, Hugh Rouse and Prat bringing
up the rear with a barge-load of ordnance.

"There it goes, there it goes again," said Roger,
rowing for dear life. " 'Tis worse than a Siianish
bombardment. 1' faith, midget, I am tempted to
shoot back. What say you?" and his heavy pant-
ing drowned the .sound of a low chuckle.

" Madman, row!" roared Hugh, " row, an you want
not a watery grave this minute !"

"Watery?' said Prat. "Damnable fiery, I call
it. Our well-merited brimstone boils early." He
broke off, puffing, and looked over his shoulder down
into the bow with much difficulty, owing to the short-
ness of his neck. "O your Majesty, 'tis an un-
fortunate hap, yet I pray you, sire, rest easy." The
bear, crouching in the bow, poked his snout forward
under Roger's arm. " Hs is not forever setting me
to work," muttered Prat.

" Nay, nor me on edge by fleering raillery."

"On edge!" cried Roger. "'Tis timely spoke.
On edge, eh? Body o' me ! look sharp, matiikin!
'Tis the barge we set on edge; see there !"
223

John Vytal

His warning came just in time, for, owing to the
sudden shiflinK of the liear, a small stream of water
poured in over the gunwale. Rouse and Prat moved
quickly to the other side, and the barjje righted itself.
King Lud rolled over, growling angrily.

Then, as if to drown his voice, the thunder itself
growled in a (inal lit of rage and retreated, with low
nnitterings, toward the setting sun. At last a rsiy of
light shone faintly through a rift in the cloud and
a long shaft of gold glanceil obliquely to the earth,
beside which the now distant gleam of forkc^d and
unsymmetric lighttiing seemed like a sign of cha(xs
fading before the advance of order. The rain, which
for a few moments had fallen in torrents, ])assed on,
w-hile only a shower of sunsbot drojis, falling like
diadems from the woodland's crown, echoed the harsh
])atter of a moment l)efore.

"It is over," said Marlowe, and, turning, he looked
long at Eleanor, then went down into the stern and
spoke to her. A momentary flash like the lightning
shone in his eyes. "Thus would my love," he de-
clared, "consume its object."

She returned his glance meditatively. "Nay,
that is not love."

" 'T would, indeed, be mine." He gazed off to the
western sky in deep abstraction, adding slowly:
" Yet, 'tis not love 1 see before me ; it is death. Alas !
I like not the stealth of death as it creeps seemingly
nearer and very near." He paused, still looking
away toward the sun, which in another moment sank
behind the forest of the mainland. And Eleanor
made no answer, but instinctively turned to glance
at Gyll Croyden in the boat behind them. Then,
realizing that Marlowe was following her gaze, she
looked up at him again quickly. Tlie spirit of pre-
monition had suddenly left his eyes; the moment
224

A Tale of the Lost Colony

of transcendency hail imssed. lit- was .sinilinn nt
MiNtresN Croydcn.

But the htllc Virj;irua, pccrinK "P at Christopher
from under her mother's cloak, whisiicred, " Death,"
and again, with a bright smile, slowly, questioninnly,
"Death?" as though striving to grasp the meaning
of a new and pretty word.

The treble voice, however, was sudder.'y drowned
by a loud cheer from many throats, the sound of which
caused Virginia to look about like a white rabbit
from its hole and to [wut at the rude interruption of
her childish reverie. But soon she darted out from
the cloak and added her prattle to the prolonged
huzzah, for her bright eyes told her that once more
she could run about in chase of birds and quest of
flowers.

The colonists had arrived at Croatan.

■"-M m^.-K:

CHAPTER XIX

"Hark to a motion of eternal league."

—Marlowe, in Dido, Queen of Carthage.

In a week the English settlement had assumed an
aspect that hinted at permanent residence on the isl-
and of Croatan. The Indian town, with a population
of over one hundred, still offered shelter to the new-
comers, though a number of houses, after the white
man's fashion of building, were already nearing com-
pletion. The village, girdled by trees, occupied a
wide and natural opening. The sites of houses had
been chosen with a certain regularity and crude sym-
metry as to position, which gave the paths an almost
street-like appearance. The dwellings themselves
were varied according to the tastes of their builders
and the advantages of their surroundings, some
walled by strips of bark staked to the ground and
fastened together by thongs of hide; others, more
pretentious, being strengthened by numerous up-
right poles placed side by side in double lines and
bent over at the top, where they formed arched and
lofty roofs. The interior of the house which belonged
to Manteo and his mother was surprisingly spacious,
measuring almost twenty yards in length, and in
width as many feet.

One summer morning a child stood wonderingly

before the threshold of this dwelling, regarding in

silence another child in the doorway. The first was

Virginia, the second Manteo's son, a dark, supple

226

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

boy, whose unclad body shone like bronze in the
sunlight. Between the two, momentarily, there was
silence, each regarding the other with curious and
bashful eyes ; until at last Virginia, stepping eager-
ly forward to the Indian lad, held out her hand.
For a minute he looked down at the delicate fingers
and little palm with a bewildered expression, as
though at an object cleariy demanding his attention,
but in no way understood. Not a smile crossed his
dark face; the perplexity was very sober, and the
belief that she desired some gift embarrassed him, for
what had he to give? But suddenly, as if with an in-
tuitive impulse, he offered that which alone seemed
available— his hand. At this she laughed, and, turn-
ing her head, now this way, now that, inspected the
dusky present like a young bird and held it fast.

"The White Doe," said Manteo, who stood near
by with Vytal, "shall be as a bond between our
peoples."

I .1

CHAPTER XX

"... Adieu I
Since destiny doth call me from thy shore."

—Marlowe, in Dido, Quern of Carthatt.

At Croatan the springs ran freely, and the soil,
being naturally irrigated, bore sufficient crops for
all. This the English sowers learned gladly, after
inspecting the work of their uncivilized brethren with
admiration for the bountiful result, if not for the crude
and irksome methods of cultivation. Here men,
women, and children were alike tillers of the soil, and
although, with needless exertion, sticks were used
instead of ploughs and holes dug instead of furrows,
the wide fields beyond the town's encircling strip of
woodland showed an abundance of maize, or guinea
wheat ; beans, pease, and tobacco. About a third of
the forest was composed of walnut-trees, from which
the nuts were plucked by the natives, to be used as
seasoning in spoon-meat. Chestnuts, which strewed
the ground, were also gathered and made into a kind
of bread.

The recent rains appeared to have reawakened
nature ; for not only had all the crops of fruit and
vegetables been revivified, but animal Ufe as well.
Wild geese and turkeys, immense flocks of water-
fowl and penguins, swans, crows, and magpies, be-
ing affrighted now and then by some unaccustomed
sound, as a trumpet<all or accidental musket-shot,
would rise with a concerted flutter and whir like a
228

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

great wind above the forest. At these moments the
varied clamor of their cries would fill the air with
an alarum so loud as to seem almost human in tone
and power.

Beasts of the field, great and small, were also near
neighbors of the tribesmen. Black bear, deer, rab-
bits, opossums, wild hog, and foxes abounded on
every side. Thus all manner of palatable meat was
to be had for a single day's hunting.

In hfe and custom the English soon became half
Indian, the Indians half Englisa.

Yet, with all the outward sign of harmony, and
despite the genuine friendliness, a hope, deep do n
in the English hearts, strove to believe that this con-
dition was in no way final. The barrier of race was
too strong so soon to be removed. The Indians were
on their own soil, surrounded by their intimate kins-
men, and living much as they had always lived ; but
the English were in exile. Thoughts of England
haunting them at moments brought restless longings.
That which had been bom and bred in the bone must
die with it. As the grave is the only portal to a life
divine, so Death is the sole power by which a new
country is forced to yield itself in full before the in-
flux of aliens. The earthly land of promise is for
sons, not fathers. With the first generation it is a
trust, and only with the second a po.ssession.

Many of the colonists, despite their new-found com-
fort and prosperity, were yet unsatisfied. Their
hearts yearned for England. Gradually they went
from bad to worse. Their turbulence, vice, and in-
continence ran riot as never before. Only a few la-
bored steadily for the common good. On these the
others lived as parasites. Yet the minority averted
the colony's dissolution. Eleanor Dare, for one, by
a daily example of fortitude, a never-failing sjmipa-
«9

John Vytal

thy, a detailed attention to the little ills and troubles
of her fellows, served, through her influence upon the
women, to maintain the industry of the men. While,
however, it was she who thus gradually turned sor-
rowful resignation to contentment, it was Vytal who,
by personal and continual contact with the planters,
dominated their wills and held them fast to duty.

The control of these two superior spirits, one fem-
inine, the other masculine, and each the other's need,
formed an almost perfect diarchy, by which the col-
onists of Virginia were governed for many years.

The influence of a third dominant spirit is more
difficult to define, being that of Christopher Marlowe,
whose temperament, ever varying and mystical, was
understood by few.

As months passed the poet became again envel-
oped in abstraction, until at last his mind seemed to
be concentrated on some definite purpose, of which
the existence was made evident by an unusual taci-
turnity and set expression, while the purpose itself
remained a mystery.

It had become the custom of Marlowe to absent
himself daily from the town, and to pursue his soli-
tary way, morning after morning, to a northeastern
promontory that stretched out into the sea from an
adjacent island. On these walks he was always,
by apparent intention, alone. Standing on the shore,
with face turned northward and eyes intent on scan-
ning the wide horizon, his graceful figure was ever
.solitary, his reflections ever with no response save
from his inward self. Thus for months, without
the exception of a single day, he went to the promon-
tory, until his patience was rewarded by the sight of
that which he had so long awaited. An instinct, a
premonition, an inward certainty, call it what he
would, had told him that his determination must find
230

A Tale of the Lost Colony

an opportunity at last. Therefore, when the chance
to work his will finally offered itself, he regarded it
with small surprise. He called himself, not without
a certain vain though mournful loftiness, the agent
of Destiny ; hence, when Destiny came to claim self-
sacrifice at his hands, he met it with familiar greet-
ing.

Starting out to welcome that which he termed " In-
carnate Fa*<"," he made his way farther north, and
having finally, as he told himself, " bound the ParccC
with their own thread," returned to Croatan.

It was all a mystical thrall, dominant and positive,
yet vaguely transcendental, as it is here described.
The actual was resolved instantly to the poetical
in his mind, and in this, the beginning of the final
act of his life's drama, he became that astral dreamer
and etherealist whom a few, by the perceptive com-
prehension of his poetry, have recognized and un-
derstood.

On re-entering the town, Marlowe sought Eleanor
Dare. She was sitting near tlie threshold of h>..- door
with Virginia, who, slight, pale, and more visionary
than real, watched him with a curious eagerness
and joy as he approached ; for Christopher and the
Indian youth were, with the exception of her mother,
the sole favorites of her child heart. To her father
Virginia showed a peculiar devotio.i, but this was
often broken by moments of angry rebellion, while
u.sually with Eleanor, and always with Manteo's son,
she seemed perfectly in accord.

" Mistrpss Dare, 1 would siJeak to you now beyond
the town, where no interruption can break in upon
my sorrow."

Before Eleanor could reply, the child, looking up
into Marlowe's face, asked, half wistfully, " What
is sorrow?"

231

John Vytal

The poet gazed down at her and smoothed her hair.
"That is a secret," he answered, kindly.

"Whose secret?" she demanded, pouting. "My
mother's?"

"Yes."

"And yours?"

"Yes."

"And my father's?"

"Yes, perhaps."

"And Captain Vytal's?"

The poet inclined his head. "Ay, tndy, his as
well."

" And is it the dark boy's?"

"Nay, notj'et."

"Ah, then I am glad," said Virginia, with a sat-
isfied air, " for it would not be nice if he, too, had a
secret that 1 did not know. But please tell me
the secret about sorrow. Master Christopher." She
tripped over the long name, pronoimcing it with dif-
ficulty.

The poet smiled. "Sorrow is the secret of hap-
piness, little White Doe; and some day, when you
have lived perhaps a million years up near the sun
and are entirely happy, you will say, ' 'Tis all be-
cause I guessed the secret far down there.' "

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with pleas-
ure. "Tell me now," she pleaded; but seeing that
he had already forgotten, she turned and, with a pout,
ran off to seek her dusky playfellow. "Dark boy,"
she said, on finding him near by, " 1 am glad you do
not know the secrets 1 don't know."

For a moment Eleanor watched her as here and
there in the distance she flitted about the bronze
figure.

" I can in no way comprehend her. Master Mar-
lowe."

232

A Tale of the Lost Colony

" Nay, nor shall the day come in all the earthly
future when she shall understand herself. Thus
are some of us prescient with meaning, yet forever
enigmatical, save to— save to— shall 1 say God?"

"Yes, to God," repUed Eleanor, simply; and, ris-
ing, she walked with Marlowe into the fields beyond
the town.

For several minutes they went on in silence, she in
wonder waiting to hear what he would say, he mel-
ancholy and wrapped in meditation. At last they
came to the edge of a wide wheat-field, over which
the surface of the sunlit grain swayed and rippled
like a lake of pale and molten gold. As the poet
looked across it he smiled sadly, yet with a certain
light recklessness of manner that belied the former
seriousness of his look. " See," he said, " the .vheat
inclines eastward; the wind is from the west. I'd
have thee remember, Mistress Dare, that if in the
near future I am no more to be seen, there is no dee|>-
er reason in't than in this course the wind doth fol-
low. To America I came, for the wind blew hither
from the east The wind is changed, madam, and
so my way. 'Tis Fate ordains this brief farewell."

At these words Eleanor started perceptibly, her
eyes opening wide in amazement. "Farewell!" she
exclaimed. " sir, what mean you by ' farewell '?"

He took her hand and, bending low, kissed it rev-
erently. "1 cannot say, for, alas! many know the
present meaning, but none the hidden prophecy, of
that word ' farewell.'"
"Yet surely. Master Marlowe, you contemplate

no — "

" Nay," he rejoined, with a vague smile ; " I shackle

the Fates with their own thread for but a single day,

and not forever." Turning, he walked away on the

margin of the wheat-field that now, no longer golden,

233

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

swayed and whispered beneath an umbroua pall;
and Eleanor, seeming to be bound by the spell of
his mysticism, could only watch in silence his grace-
ful, receding figure while the tall wheat-blades bent
forward and touched him as he passed. When at last
he was about to disappear, she would have started
after him, but at tl s instant Virginia, flitting as
though from nowhere to her mother's side, called out
to him, "Come back I" He turned. "Please, Mas-
ter Kyt, come back and tell me the secret."

But Marlowe only shook his head, and, waving
his hand, went forward with light footsteps into the
woods.

CHAPTER XXI

"It lies not in our power to love or hate.
For will in us is overrul'd by fate."

— Marlowe, in Hero and Leandtr.

As the poet made his way through the forest he
came suddetily on a scene that caused him to jiause,
laugh, quicken his pace, and turn aside to another
trail, by which he reached the shore. Here, shrug-
ging his shoulders, he sat down on the sand, looking
back now and then as if waiting to be joined by some
one who occupied his thoughts. Whether or not this
person would come he could not be sure, since the
scene just witnessed had disclosed a new phase of the
situation in which he had placed himself.

In the clearing which he had just passed sat Gyll
Croyden looking up at Roger Prat, who stood before
her in an attitude of indecision and unaccustomed
solemnity, while the bear regarded them drowsily
from the overhanging branches of a tree. What
transpired between the man and woman Marlowe
could not definitely surmise, yet the result of their
conversation was to subvert completely his own
future.

" Now, I tell you," said Prat, after the sound of
footsteps had died away, " I am a peculiar person-
age." He sank his chin deep into its triple sub-
structure and surveyed her with perplexity. In his
hand he held an Indian pipe, whose wreaths of smoke
rose and cast a veil before his face, tlirough wliich
335

John Vytal

his troubled, protruding eyes looked out with ghost-
ly light. *

"A peculiar hobgoblin," corrected Gyll, laugh-
ing more from nervousness than mirth— "a dear
hobgoblin."

He eyed her reproachfully. " Oh, you may deride
me with unflattering names," he said, " but it makes
no difference. Mark you, until now there has been
one thing only which could make Roger Prat turn
on his heel and run for dear life. This was the sight
of a petticoat; but, alack! I am changed, most mis-
erably changed, and, by some [lerversity, ray new
courage seems cowardice as well. For I take it that
a r^Uy brave man nerves himself to retreat before
the bombardment of a wench's eyes. 'Tis the cow-
ard who succumbs."

Gyll ijoutcd. " Run away, then, and prove your-
self a soldier. But he shook his head with ponder-
ous gravity, and, curiously enough, the unprece-
dented soberness of his manner spread to her " Oh
you would stay. Now, I am glad of that. Sir Goblin ''
Tu- Tf?' ^^^ *'?°^ ^''""S him, with a hand on each
of his bulky shoulders. " I am glad, Roger, " she re-
peated, in a softer tone. " For dost know that, with all
ray gallants, with the raeraory of all those faces up-
turned and kisses thrown to my window on the Bank-
side, tis a common fighting man I would marry'— a
great, cumbersome roly-poly, a mountain, a heathen
image, call hira what you will, yet to me he hath so
ight a heart, so quaint way, so sturdy a courage
that methmks he hath already won me."

At this, either a recollection of her long-lost girl-
hood or a play of mere wanton coquetry— she herself
did not know which— caused her to cast down her
eyes, while the flush of her cheeks deepened vividly
For an mstant Prat seemed to sway, as though bis
236

A Tale of the Lost Colony

IcRs with an effort supported his corpulent body,
and the perplexity of his look increased. Instinc-
tively he thrust the piiw-stem between his teeth,
and, gazing up at King Lud, blew a cloud of smoke
into the branches. The bear looked down through
it, blinking and snifBng at his master, while for a
moment Roger himself was almost completely en-
veloped.

"Thou imp of Uprwwac," quoth CJyll, stepping
back with a grimace, "is this thy only resixmse
to my condescension?" and she made as though to
start away into the forest. But Roger, suddenly
all-forgetful of his dilemma, waddled after her.

"Nay, stay," he called, apprehensively; "stay,
and [lermit me to collect ray .scattered wits."

She turned and laughed with scornful badinage.
" Stay?" she echoed ; " and wherefore, pray? Merely
that you may blow tobacco fumes into my eyes and
blind them to the charm of your countenance?"

"Oh no," he remonstrated. "In troth, I blew
the smoke to hide the face of his wondering majesty
above. His red eyes and sniffing snout seemed to
condemn and scorn me. There, I'll smoke no more,"
and, knocking out the pipe's ashes, he restored it
quickly to his belt.

Seeming to be mollified by this, Gyll sat down
again on the grass, while the new softness of her ex-
pression returned. " Prithee, Roger, make up your
mind on that which troubles it, for if again I start,
I go, and there's the end."

He gazed at her for a moment with solemn eyes,
and now she smiled in an almo.st womanly way in-
stead of laughing wantonly. " Tell me, Gyll, dost
really— dost truly?—" but he broke off for want of a
word,

"Truly what?" she asked, in a low voice.
237

John Vytal

His chin sank into its undcrfolds nfjain, and he
twirled a jiair of globular thumbs tentatively. " Dost
truly have that feeling for me which the poet would
call 'love'?"

The question touched her sense of the ludicrous
keenly, yet his astonishing earnestness underlying
it must have reached a deeper sense, for still she
only smiled instead of laughing, and answered,
"Yes."

At this his rotund face grew brighter. "Come,
then, to the Oxford preacher, Ciyll, before we change
our minds ;" and, nothing loath, she rose quietly,

"Change our minds, Roger! I, for one, shall
ne'er do that."

"Nay," he said, "nay, I pray you, do not change.
Oh, that would be dire misfortune;" whereon, pick-
ing up the end of King Lud's chain, which dangled
from the tree, he tugged thereat until the beast, with
a good-humored growl, descended. For an instant
the sight of her animal friend brought the old, care-
less look to Gyll's face — there was .something so
droUy suggestive of Roger in the bear's bandy leg.s
and awkward gait. A fit of devil-may-care reck-
lessness seized her. The strain of even a mo-
ment's seriousness on such a nature being unendur-
able, breaks in the end, and, as when a supporting
rope is severed without warning the one who has
been held thereby falls suddenly, so the snapping
of a moral stay leaves one sprawling in abandon-
ment.

Gyll went to the extreme of flippancy. "Come,"
she said. " Look at King Lud. Let him give us his
blessing. Let him tie the knot with his great paws
upon our heads. I much mislike real parsons; we
will have none o' them. I'll bind myself to no man.
'Please one, please all,' as the song hath it— 'please
238

A Talc of the Lost Colony

one, please all.' " So saying, she was on Ihc imint of
profaning her troth by kneeling, with a lauKh, before
the bear, when a glance at Prat restrained her. The
soldier had started back with an oath. His eyes,
enraged an she had never seen theni, were lowering,
and his breath came quickly. With one hand he
ground the bear's chain until its links grated as if
they must break in the tight-clinched fist, while with
the other he sought his hip, and the fat \>a\m ignored
his flute and Uppowac pipe to cool itself on the metal
of his sword.

Gyll drew back in amaze. "How now, goblin,"
she asked, with not a little terror; "art gone wholly
mad?"

He said nothing, but slowly his expression al-
tered until a mingling of grief and cold re|)ulsion
told her of his inward change. " I would have risked
a wedding," he said, at last, and drawing the bear
to his side. " 1 would have made you honest wife,
and not ungladly, for I felt a kind o' love — ah, a deal
o' love— for you, Gyll ; but I'm a jjcculiar personage,
and not irreverent to men o' God and church -like
things, be 1 rake or no. Faith, ye're a most heart-
less jade, who'll ne'er be wife o' mine. Ye've shown
yourself. For that 1 tha- k thee;" whereat he turned
on his heel and, leading away King Lud, disappeared
in the forest.

For a moment Gyll stood listening, and once she
called, but only the clank, clank of the bear's chain,
growing fainter and more faint in the distance, an-
swered her unhappy cry. Finally, when the sound
had died, a flood of tears fell from her eyes, but quick-
ly she brushed them away, then, turning, walk;d
in the direction of the shore, and forced from her
tremulous lips a song, popular at the time in South-
wark:

239

John Vytal

"Be merry, friends, and take no thought;
For worldly cares now care ye naught.
For whoso doth, when all is fought.
Shall find that thought availeth not —
Be merry, friends."

Her voice sounded low, its lilt for once seeming
artificial. The friends she strove to cheer were her
own thoughts — new, discomforting thoughts — yet
perhaps more truly friends than all their predeces-
sors. She persisted, however, in drowning the inward
mutter of their realization with her voice's melody :

"To take our sorrows mournfully,
Augmenteth but our malady;
But taking sorrows merrily
Maketh them smaller, verily—
Be merry, friends."

Aiid now the notes of a flute came to her from afar,
half in accompaniment of her tune :

"Let the world slide, let the world go;
A fig for care and a fig for woe I
If I can't pay, why, I can owe;
And death makes equal the high and low^
Be merry, friends I"

The last words came in faltering tones that utter-
ly belied their meaning, while from the distance the
flute's music ended in that wild wail which now, more
than ever, denoted a finale.

In a few minutes Gyll joined Marlowe on the shore.
"Ah, you have come," he said, rising.

She laughed. "So it seems; but wherefore, Kyt,
did you so mysteriously arrange this meeting?"

He made an impatient gesture. " Wilt swear to say
nothing of my tidings to any in the town?"

"Yea, if it pleases your poetic soul thus to weave
mysteries, I make no remonstrance."
240

A Tale of' the Lost Colony

He scrutinized her silently until, at last, being
satisfied, he spoke again. "I leave for England,
Gyll, this very day."

Her eyes opened wide, and she stared at him as at
one demented. " Leave for England, Kytl Thou'rt
mad I"

"Nay," he returned, calmly. "Listen. For I
know not how many days and months I have scanned
the sea far to the northward. For an eternity I have
seen naught save gulls and waves, but at last a sail
hath come, as I knew it would. Nor is it surprising
that I waited expectantly, for while in England I
had heard that every year as many as five hundred
ships found their way to the great country which
Martm Frobisher explored. 'Tis called Newfound-
land, and off its banks myriads of f'sh are caught by
the men of Brittany, Normandy, and nearly all the
provinces of Prance. Was it not likely, therefore
that one of these fishing-vessels, returning with its
catch, should follow the coast of this continent until
It came to southern waters? Well, likely or not, the
thing hath happened. A Breton shallop lies to the
north and awaits me, for I builded a fire and sig-
nalled to it. Three mariners came ashore, and to
one who understood the French language, I ex-
plained that I was a castaway. Thus they think
me a shipwrecked sailor, and I have allayed their
curiosity. Otherwise, no doubt, they would have
come prying about Croatan. These men have prom-
ised to land me on the coast of France or Ireland "
He paused, seeming to question her with a look
but for answer she only threw an arm about his
neck.

"Oh, K3rt, art really going? I cannot believe 'tis
true."

"Ay, 'tis very truth."

241

John Vytal

She looked up into his dark eyes with a troubled
expression. "Tell me, dreamer, why do you de-
part so secretly, and why, indeed, at all?"

"Secretly " he answered, with renewed vagueness,
"because iri secret Destiny works; I for to-day am
Fate and keep these colonists to their duty as Vytal
and Mistress Dare have done. Were they to know
of the vessel's proximity, they would m a moment be
havoc-struck. Ananias would start an msurrection
and incite them to seize the_ shallop. This must
not be. 1 go alone, or with— "
She interrupted him. "Why, why do you go?
He raised himself to his full height. Because
a voice, calling me in whispers, so decrees. I
shall seek audience with the queen and Raleigh to
demand the forwarding of supplies and men to
Vireinia." He paused, a look of despondency cross-
ing his face. "But would I could foresee suc-
cras Alas! I cannot. Some godless curse resU
on this colony, whose spirit is in the very air we
breathe " He looked darkly into the distance, as
though the hitherto invisible had come within the
range of sight. Then, however, as he heard a sob
from the woman beside him, his expression changed.
The earnestness of the moment seemed to pall upon
him, and he laughed carelessly. , u », u

Unt- IE a silken kerchief from her neck, he held
it aloft so that it hung lightly on the breeze its soft
Ids fluttering toward the sea. "This >s. the tnie
reason," he said, inconsequently. The wmd blows

C3.stW3.rQ (( ikir

Her eyes were smiling now behind her tears. May
not I go thither also?" she asked breathlessly. I
cannot .stay behind, 'F.-uth, all the colony hath
tuS agaU me. The parson would have me
married or banished, were there chance of either fate.
242

A Tale of the Lost Colony

Besides— I'd be more comfortable in Southwark,"
she added, with a note of hardness in her ever-chang-
ing voice.

He pressed her hand pityingly. "As you like,
Gyll. 'Tis but natural you desire to return. Nei-
ther you nor I were made for this. Our parts were
writ to be played in London. I go aboard the shal-
lop within an hour, but it waits too far for you. To-
night we'll anchor to the southward. Do you slip
away and await me on the southern shore. What-
e'er you do, remember one thing : none must know
of our departure. Nay, postpone thy thanks, Gyll,
for here comes Vytal by appointment."

She turned, and, on seeing the soldier, who alone
of all men inspired her with awe, made her way
quickly to the town.

As Vytal joined Marlowe, they spoke at once of
that which paramountly filled their minds. "I am
ready to start," said Christopher. " The shallop lies
north of Hatarask."

"Then," returned Vytal, "let us go to it at once.
I will accompany you thither."

They walked along the shore. " We can speedily
reach the place," said Marlowe, who was oppressed
with the other's silence; "1 have left a canoe on the
northern beach."

Vytal incHned his head, as who should say, "I
supposed so."

The poet's eyes saddened. "Your muteness is
hard to brook."

" Nay, Kyt, I count it kind to both of us."

"Wherefore kind?"

" Because, when the heart is sick, words but pain
it more."

" You regret, then, my departure?"

" For my own sake, deeply. We have been friends. "
213

John Vytal

r'.=T—" ■ -.rim, i :

III;!' 11

" Av " said the poet, "friends. Friendships the
reality ; love but a pleasant dream. I look back over
the past five years and think of our conversations^. 1
recXtoo. those few hours when I talked with Mis-
tress Dare. The difference is plain. Man and man
enjoy the freer reverie. No personal distraction mans
!to elemental thought. They become unbiased
a^kers-on at life, unfettered by the stage directions.
To them the lover's star hath varied co-^"'^ ~
incs which far transcend its amorous spU. To them
aU nature shows her heart, and not the mere reflec-
Uon of their own. Ay, only ;.vith man and man is
meditation free - unless — ot course, unless — the
drlm Jlove hath' proven true." The last words
cam" in a voice of pain, which, however, passed
as he added, mechanically, "But come, here is the

ToUowing the poet, Vytal stepped into the craft
and with a single stroke of his paddle sent it far
out across the inlet. With long, slow sweeps he
propelled it on in silence wWle Mar owe, facing
him gazed at the sharp^ut features with a kmd of

worship in his eyes. ,r . ,, h=*V, nne

"Hath any yet known you, Vytal? Hath one
single man or woman probed your depths?

Vytal shrugged his shoulders for reply, then said
in a voice that sounded har.h even to himself. We
are come to your starting-pomt," and, as they land-
ed, " Where is the ship?"
"Five miles to the north." __

" Let us hasten, then, by the shore.
They walked for many minutes mutely, uiitil Vy-
tal sT«ke as though half to himself: "I wou^ Jia^ .
mad'- the sacrifice in your stead, but or these chd-
dren of Croatan, these helpless colonists, who are m

my charge.".

244

A Talc of the Lost Colony

The poet's eyes lighted up with their old fervor.
"I know it well, for partly I know you." His eyes
wandered. "Yet I cannot say that, were I you, I
would have left her even for friendship's sake. I
read you, I read myself — you as mighty pro.se, I, it
sometimes seems, as vainly garnished poetry. Mar-
lowe would whisper to her, 'My soul sings thine,'
but Vytal would say, 'I love thee.' Methinks in
these very words lie our inmost selves contrasted."
Turning again to look at his companion, he found
the dark face averted, but when at last he saw its
deep-graven, premature lines again, he found no
change in the expression.

"I trust you will make every effort," said Vj^al,
"to gain audience with the queen."

" Yes, I swear it, but I fear 'twill prove of no avail.
White hath not returned, nor shall I, nor shall any
man. Tell me, hast not felt that, with all thy power,
thou and these people are foredoomed?" But as he
received no answer, Marlowe became resigned to the
taciturnity of his friend. After all these years he
was forced to confess that even now, in what he be-
lieved to be the final parting, he could not touch his
comrade's depths, or even, touching them, elicit re-
sponse save the look and intense voice that told
him of Vjrtal's friendship. " Nevertheless, there is
but one man," he resumed at length, as though to
himself, " who of all merits your fear. I speak of—"
He broke off suddenly. " Hark! what was that?"

They stood still, intently listening.

A low "Whist I" reached their ears from the adja-
cent woods.

"Fob!" exclaimed Christopher. "Twas but the
hissing of a snake."

"Nay," said Vytal, "wait I"

The Words were no sooner spoken than the dusky
245

JohnVytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

figure of Manteo emerged from the forest, and the
Indian approached them with noiseless step. "My
brother, have a care. 1 waited that I might warn
thee. Two men, lying concealed to the northward,
curiously watch the ship at anchor. The one is
Towaye, the other your countryman who lumied
himself 'Ralph Contempt 1'"

I'll

CHAPTER XXn

"I, and the Catholic Philip, King of Spain,
Ere I shall want, will cause his Indians
To rip the golden bowels of America.'^

—Marlowe, in The Uasmne at Paris,

"Ralph Contempt!"

The name transformed them instantly. The old
perfervid recklessness rekindled fire in Marlowe's
eyes, while the lineaments of Vs^tal's face contracted
and grew sharper with rigid hate.

"Let one of us return," suggested the poet, "and
bring a force to help capture him. It cannot be that
he is alone with Towaye."

Vytal dissented. " We should lose time by going
to Croatan, and even the absence of one would jeopard
our chances. If we find we need assistance, Manteo
can seek it later. It is most probable that, alone or
not, Frjizer will strive either to board the shallop and
sail or to prevent you from doing so."

" How so ? He h£is no knowledge of my intention. "

"Be not so sure. The conjectures of Frazer are
as good as certainty. Doubtless he has already
guessed the meaning of the ship, for it would not lie
there idly waiting without reason. Quick 1 We must
meet the two and take them by ourselves. Lead us,
Manteo, that we may come upon them unobserved."

Without a word the Indian re-entered the woods,
and, corning to a trail that ran parallel with the coast-
line, made a sign to the others, bidding them .".void
dry brushwood on the pathway that their tread might
M7

John Vytal

be vinheard. For some time they followed him, cau-
tiously keeping on a strip of mossy earth which bor-
dered the trail and muffled their footsteps. It was
now high r.oon, and the sun shone in a clear sky.
March, just dying into April, had lost its harshness
at sight of spring and grown more tender, as a crabbed
parent grows tender with the child of his old age. The
air, bracing and clear, seemed to fill their lungs with
a breath of immortal life, while the sea's imtroubled
breast, just visible through rifts in the arras of blos-
soms, bespoke a joy too deep for surface emotion.

Finally, aa their guide turned with finger to lips,
Vytal and Marlowe halted. Through a low interstice
in the foliage a sight met their eyes which, although
expected, caused them to draw their weapons in-
stantly, for on the shore stood Towaye, with bow
in hand, facing their cover, and beside him Frazer,
lying on the beach, idly patting the sand into little
moulds, as a child builds toy castles. The beach,
sandy and shelving, rose gradually on either side,
imtil, terminating in two high ridges or bulwarks
of sand, it fell away again in long, flat sweeps to
the north and south. Thus Frazer and Towaye oc-
cupied a naturally fortified square, two sides of which
were formed by the sand-bauk and two by furest and
water. To reach them unobserved was therefore
impossible, and an open encounter must necessarily
ensue. As the odds favored the aggressors by three
to two, there appeared 'o be small hazard in boldly
forcing an issue. Unfortunately, however, Manteo
was unarmed save for a wooden truncheon, and
Vjrtal carried only his rapier. But Marlowe, ready
to defend himself against Breton mutineers or pirates
on the high seas, was better provided, his rapier
being suppli;mi;iilcd by a pistol and poniard. Ordi-
narily, with these weapons he would have found
248

A Talc of the Lost Colony

no difficulty in placing Towaye hen's de combat, but
the occasion demanded unusual strategy.

" Your dagger toManteo," whispered Vytal. " Cov-
er Towaye with the firearm. Nay, don't shoot from
here. You are too far for accuracy. If possible,
merely wound him. We must take the Indian alive
and force him to reveal Frazer's motives. Where is
the shallop?"

"Farther on beyond the headland."

"Good! Now at them!"

Side by side the three emerged quickly from the
woods. A sudden viiierish hiss from his ally caused
Frazer to turn instantly, and the enemies stood face
to face. Swiftly Towaye started to raise his bow,
but swifter still Marlowe's pistol sprang to a dead-
ly aim. Yet the poet, fearing to kill, withheld
his bullet. In the next instant he would have
changed his aim and fired, but the risk of raissiiig
his opponent altogether and receiving the arrow in
his own breast held him motionless. Thus between
these two there was temporarily a deadlock, while
both stood transfixedly waiting for the sUghtest error
of movement on the other's part.

Vytal, however, being in the first second unim-
peded, rushed toward his adversary with rapier drawn.

"Halt!" The peremptory cry came from Frazer
in a sharp note of menace,, as, guarding himself
with a rapier in one hand, he now raised with the
other a small curved horn to his lips. Keeping it
poised as though ready at an instant to sound an
alarum, he called threateningly: "Two hundred
Winginas lie within the forest waiting. A single
blast means death to each of you;" then, with a
laugh, " I pray you reconsider the expediency of at-
tacking me now."
Vytal stood still, controlling himself by a great
249

i'i

pill

1 'i ;!■,

. »

Mi;

John Vytal

effort. In his pi nee doubtless the poet and many
another would have rushed forward with rash im-
petuosity, but the campaigner's trained hand could
even compass that which to a brave soldier in the
heat of fight is the most difficult of tactics, namely,
the lowering of his sword.

The two men stood at gaze, Vytal fettered by the
realization that his own death would in all proba-
bility mean the decimation of the whole colony, and
Frazer by the rigid Fate before him.

For once the soldier hesitated. Instinct hinted
that threats of alarum were empty, but reason de-
manded caution. The pos.sibility that an overwhelm-
ing force lay near at hand in ambush was by no
means slight.

Suddenly Vytal uttered a low order to Manteo,
who thereupon, step by step, retreated almost imper-
ceptibly toward the woods.

"Haiti" Again the horn touched Frazer's lips.
"I forbid you," he said, "to arouse the settlers."
But Manteo only looked to Vytal for a sign.

"Remain," said the latter, calmly, and the dead-
lock was now complete.

"It is strange. Master Frazer," observed the poet,
still covering Towaye with his pistol, "that your
horn forbears so long. In troth, I begin to doubt
its efficacy."

Frazer laughed. "At any instant I am ready to
prove it. Sir Poet. 'Troth, 'tis only a feeling of kind-
ness that delays your doom, mingled perhaps with
a slight curiosity. Doom, say I? Yea, doom. This
colony will perish. Perchance you know not that
John White, your governor, hath come to the very
shore of Roanoke and departed.* His own men played

•See White's peisonal account of his failure in Hokluyt'a
Voyatea.

250

A Tale of the Lost Colony

mutineers. He could not seek you at Croatan. Ay,
on ray oath, 'fore God, a ship came and went
away. 'Tis common reiwrt in Ivngland. Roanoke
is deserted, say they; Virginia, a savage wilder-
ness."

dancing at Vytal, whose face had gone livid as
death, he laughed deri.sively. "Therefore I blame
you not. Sir Soldier," he added, with feigned con-
tempt, " for planning thi.s .secret desertion."

"Desertion I" cried Marlowe. "Fool! Think
you John Vytal would desert?" But his outburst
was suddenly interrupted by Vytal. " Look to your
lock I Have a care, Towaye ! an the arrow rises
another inch, you fall." Marlowe regained his aim,
yet his thoughts returned immediately to Frazer.
" Fool," he repeated. " 'Tis / who—"

"Hush!" said Vytal.

But the warning was too late, and Frazer laughed
once more. " Ay, hush now, an you will, for the se-
cret's out. 'Twas for this I mentioned Vytal. It
shall now be my duty— I may say my delight— to
detain you."

With an oath Marlowe started as though he would
have rushed upon the man who so daringly taunted
and harassed them. Bui a word from Vytal, more
sudden and apprehensive than before, again re-
strained him.

"Beware!"

Towaye's bowstring was already pulled, and in
the next second an arrow grazed Marlowe's cheek.
With a cry to Manteo the poet rushed forward. " We
have him now! Quick! Bind his arms!"

"Halt!" For the third time Frazer's lips seemed
to kiss affectionately the horn. "A move, a shot,
and, by God, I blow!"

The poet, mipotent with rage, stood still, and Man-
251

•i|

John Vytal

teo once more haughtily obeyed the order. Even
Vytal, in whose eyes a dangerous hght gleamed
cruelly, made no advance. A bold plan was quicklv
maturing in his mind. Tu hide it he exclaimed, a.s
though chagrined, "Cursed horn, it defeats us! I
can fight against swordsmen, not musicians."

Frazer started, seemingly with a new impulse.
" So be it, then. I fear not your little bodkin. Come,
we will decide the issue with our blades."

Vytal's plan, however, prohibited a duel. " Nay,
there is trickery in the suggestion. Besides, I do
not of a choice tilt with stage-jesters."

At this Frazer appeared to become enraged as they
had never seen him. " Stage- jester !" he cried,
hoarsely. "Dost know, sirrah, who it is you thu.s
address? Who am I?" The question came in a tone
of high fury, and, receiving no response, he answered
it himself, as if the assertion burst from him against
his will. "I am not Frazer, not Ralph Contempt,
but Arthur Dudley. Dost hear? Arthur Dudley,
the son of Elizabeth and Leicester!" His manner,
calming, became supercilious. "Gentlemen, you
see before you the heir apparent to the English
throne."

" Liar!" It was Marlowe who spoke, and then for
a moment there was silence, while Frazer's lip curled
scornfully.

"Oh, you doubt me, gentles. Yet I care not."
He took on a grandiose air, whether natural or as-
sumed, they could not tell. " I seek not to convince
such men as you. There is one even greater than
my mother who knows the truth. I speak of the
King of Spain!"*

• " The report of an English spy at Madrid to Lord Burleigh
certifies that about this period a young man calling himself
Arthur Dudley was then resident at the court of Spain, who

nil'
.V as

A Talc of the Lost Colony

He paused, as an actor pauses to heighten the ctTcct
of a sensation. But as Vytal only met his glance
with a cold stare, he resumed, nonchalantly: We
have tried once to invade England, on whose throne
Philip would have placed me, but we failed >ow
that was but a first attemirt. Murk you, U ■ tvul i»
not yet." He .stood erect, as if slnvmg t" m 1' -'
height with Vytals. "Perhaps you ■■ n.l.',
1 have come twice to America? On t i. ;h.ii i
satisfy your curiosity. It is becaiuvc v .- voulc
off this much of n»y beloved mother s .h.nw. ',v.-
amputate a limb, as it were, while witnuf;
the trunk. If all else fail, I shall ai a- . 1'
King of Virginia and St. Augustme. '

He said no more, but waited interested ., m
a -pectator of the play instead of an actor

iMXorably Vytal stq.i'cd forward bcndmg his
well-tempered weapon in both hands like a bow.

Frazer smiled. " Ah, do you seek to break it and
vow allegiance?" he inquired, with mock gracious-
ness, "or merely to prove it of Toledo make? In the
fom^er case, 1 create you Knight of the Bodkin; in
the latter, believe me, I know well 'tis a supple blade.

"Unluckily," returned Vytal, wholly disregardmg
his banter, " it is my duty to cross swords with you.
Whether or not you have been so bold as purposed
to bring it on yourself by this outrage, 1 cannot tell.
Vet this one thing 1 know: a man's duty and rev-
erence are ever to his liege sovereign In the name
of mv queen's honor I am compelled to fight. Sa\ e
for your scandalous insult 1 would have taken you
alive, but now — to it!"

had eiven it out that he was the ofFsprine of Queen EliT'.abeth
by the E^rl of Leicester."-Strickland', Lives o the Q»^'
EnZnd. See also Ellis's Utter,, Second Sene.s ; and Doctor
LinKiird'a translation from the Records of Stmanca.
253

John Vytal

"Stay I First, I pray you, bid the poet and Man-
teo make no further attack on Towaye, and ask them
toth to remain here. Only on this condition will I
throw aside the horn, trusting to your honor for fair
play."

Vytal inclined his head. "Manteo, stand by;
p.nd you, Kjf, control Towaye with your aim, but
shoot not unless he move."

At this Frazer appeared satisfied. "Towaye,
wait. I will end the discussion with their leader
first; later we can argue with the others." So
saying, he let fall his horn to the sand beside
him.

"I would to God," muttered Marlowe, "I had
killed him that day in the ' Tabard.' "

Frazer caught the tenor of the wish and smiled
again. " Sir Poet," he said, rolling back the ^1,-^ves
of his doublet, " then we di.srussed the baiting, of a
bear, and 1 waxed eloquent for the pastime. Again
we are in the same position, you disapproving from
mercy to the animal, I enthusiastic of very love for
the sport. But now 'tis not a bear I would fain see
pestered; 'tis better still— a wolf!" Whereupon, as
his arms were now bared to the elbows, he raised' his
rapier and saluted the soldier with an easy grace.
"I wait!"

The weapons crossed, slithered, separated, and
crossed again. Then Vytal lunged, and Frazer,
falling back apace, parried successfully, even as the
point touched his doublet. Next, in feigned alarm,
his arm, wavering, left the heart exposed, and Vy-
tal thrust again. But the stroke was answered with
lightning speed, and, save for an even swifter parry,
the response would have been final.

Now, with extreme caution, weapons apart, now
with seemingly rash bursts of daring, the two fenced
254

A Tale of the Lost Colony

for several minutes, the advantage appearing to
change with every move.

To Marlowe, even more than to the principals, the
moment was desperate. For, being forced to guard
Towaye, he could follow the contest only by the sound
of the rapiers, which, in rasping voice, told him that
Frazer had mastered the art of fence since their fight
on London Bridge. With astonishment and appre-
hension he wondered why the ring and slither were
so long continued, for his straining ears could not
explain that which a single glance, had he dared to
risk it, would have made evident.

Behind Frazer the water shone like a vast burning-
glass, while behind Vytal the forest was a soft back-
ground of shade. The glare almost blinded Vytal's
eyes; thi shadows rested Frazer's. And the latter
made the most of his advantage. With quick and
varied sidelong springs he used the reflected sun-
light as a second weapon, more baffling than the first.
Nevertheless, with brows contracted and lids lowered,
Vytal so screened his eyes when Frazer, with stcijs
aside, brought the glare into play, that he contrived
to gain despite the disadvantage.

Gradually his opponent fell back toward the wa-
ter's edge.

The weapons played faster and more furiously
than before, the sound of Frazer's quick -drawn
breath mingling itself with the hoarse whisper of
steel as the irresistible swordsman impelled him back-
ward inch by inch. Strangely enough, he had never
once made a move toward the horn, and now it lay
well beyond his reach.

Suddenly at the water's brink Vytal's rapier, dart-
ing forward, zigzagged about its foe like a flash of
forked lightning, and Frazer fell to one knee. At
this Vytal would have thrust it home, but his groat

John Vytal

height compelled him to lean so far forward that the
water, in which he now stood ankle -deep, cast up
its glare directly into his eyes, and for a second he
was subject to a retinal blur, while splotches of silver
obscured his vision. At this instant Frazer, spring-
ing to an erect fxjsition, lunged viciously, but the
thrust was parried with blind instinct, and Vytal's
half-closed eyes saw his adversary fall back, steadily
back, before him into the sea.

Now they stood up to their knees in water, Vytal
gaining, until even their scabbards were submerged.
Again and again the soldier had striven to turn his
foe, but never had he met so dexterous and strategic
an opposition. Yet there seemed to be no doubt as to
the issue, for at the last Frazer, merely endeavoring
to control the other's point, was content to recede
on the defensive. And soon Vytal foresaw that his
opponent, who, besides being many inches shorter
than himself, was also farther from the shore, would
in a moment be struggling in deep water, since
even uow he was forced to keep his sword-arm at
a high level for free play. Having no desire thus
to drown him, Vytal purposely fell back a pace, his
innate sense of justice forbidding him to avail him-
self of the advantage, though he had well earned
it, and even though his enemy, in the same po-
sition, would have profited thereby with no com-
punction.

Yet even as he fell back a mocking laugh escaped
from Frazer's lips, and Vytal, no longer generously
hesitating, thrust with fatal intent. Quicker still,
however, Frazer dived beneath the water, and the
soldier now looked out across a circle of shining
ripples that widened until they passed him and
reached the shore. And Frazer, with full -inflated
lungs, still remained below the surface.

A Tale of the Lost Colony

Impassively Vytal turned, and, regaining the
shore, amazed Marlowe by blowing on the horn.

"God's pityl why do you do that?" asked the poet,
still holding his pistol on a level with Towaye's heart.
" It means our massacre. "

"Nay," said the soldier, "he would have tried to
regain it were there allies near. His threat was hol-
low. I seek to arouse the town." He looked at the
two men before him as they stood facing each other,
the poet threatening, the Indian sullen, and added,
mercilessly, "Firel"

"To kill?"

VytsJ turned to Manteo. "He is your enemy,
my brother."

"To kill," said the chief, "for he is a traitor to the
men of his blood."

The poet shuddered. " Do you, then, avenge them,"
he said, handing the pistol to Manteo, and the lord
of Roanoke inclined his head. A pistol-shot rang
out. Towaye fell with a groan, mortally wounded.

A face rose to the surface of the water, invisible
behind a rock, and a pair of lips opened wide to ad-
mit air, then closed tightly and disappeared.

" Now, make haste, " said Vytal to Manteo. " Get
you over yonder ridge and intercept our enemy if
he lands there." Without a word the Indian sprang
to the sand-bank, and, clearing it, was lost to view.
Vytal turned to Marlowe. "Stay here. He is a
fox, and may retrace his course, supposing that we
have gone to the right and left in search of him. 1
guard the northern shore," and instantly Vytal dis-
appeared beyond the second bulwark.

"He is not a fox, but a fish," muttered Marlowe,
reloading his pistol. Almost before the words were
spoken a head appeared above the -^ irface of the
water. The poet raised his weapon and took aim.
R ^7

■i^ rjr^gr s.f'mMiti *>«k5»»t'

John Vytal

"Oh," exclaimed Frazer, unconcernedly, as he
waded inshore, "is this thy boasted poetry, to shoot
me like a dog?"

Marlowe impatiently drew a rapier, while Frazer
came to the beach.

"Once more," he said, "the crown prince must
fight with a commoner." Then, feigning to thrust
at Christopher, he suddenly swerved, and with his
left hand grasped the horn which he and Vytal in
turn had let fall near the water.

" This was the signal," he declared, still menacing
the poet with a flashing blade. " Not one blast, but
three!" And he blew thrice in rapid succession.

Instinctively Marlowe turned toward the forest,
expecting to see a horde of savages rush therefrom
upon him. But in that instant of error only a single
figure crossed his vision, fleet as Mercury, and, to his
deep mortification, even before he could change ra-
pier for pistol, he saw Frazer vanish in the woods.

In a fit of wild exasperation the poet started head-
long in pursuit ; but he had scarcely crossed the beach
when Vytal and Manteo, recalled by the horn's flour-
ish, reappeared from beyond the ridges.

"There, in there!" cried Christopher, and would
have rushed forward again had not the soldier re-
strained him.

" How long is it since he escaped you?"

"One minute. You heard the alarum. He fled
immediately."

Vytal turned to Manteo. " Will you follow him?"

"Yes."

" Hasten, then," and the chief, with noiseless tread
and eyes keenly perceptive of every telltale twig and
leaf, made his way into the forest. " He understanus
the stalking of game," observed Vytal. "It is best
so,"

258

A Tale of the Lost Colony

Marlowe's face douded dismally. "Ay 'tis best
so and 'tis best that I sail away. Twice this fellow
hath outwitted me with the simplest ttickery 1 am
not worthy to remain."

''Ah," said Vytal, with an even deeper note of
self-conyiction, " these things belong not to your call-
ing. We do not require carpentry of vintners nor
a crop of wheat from fighting-men. But to mine
they do belong, and, Christopher-" the voice sound-
ed harsh and unreal— "I have now failed at mine
own work— failed!"
He prodded the little sand-hills of Frazer's incon-

f.^S"^,"',,.!'"'''''"^ "'"•' ^^'^ I^int of his rapier
!• ai ed ! He seemed to be on the threshold of new
knowledge. A word hitherto utterly unknown and
unregarded was bein cut deep into the granite of
his character.

The poet watc .^ him, and saw the keen, unfath-
omable eyes for once cast down in self-reproach

Faded ! " The .soldier stra ightened him.seif and
looked about at the shore and water as at a new
world.

Now, suddenly, his eyes, flashing the old fire of
their indomitable resolve, met Marlowe's. "F.iiled
but m the end 1 shall succeed."
>u^. ^1^°""* sigh of relief escaped the poet's lips; not
that he had doubted, but that he had awaited, seem-
ingly an age, this reassertion of power ' Yes " he
said, "yours was not really failure. Can Fate be
thwartal? Nay; yet for a time little men, elated
and audacious m their puny grandeur, may break its
august decrees and laugh at the inevitable Vvtal
read yourself; interpret the cryptograms your sword
hath hewn; tran.slate your nature into words, and
even though you withhold the me-jning from u= all
you will have attained to the consummative'pinnacle
aS9

John Vytal

of manhood." The poet's fervid eyes, gazing at
his friend, became orators.

For a moment Vytal's face softened, while a fleet-
ing smile crossed it sadly. "1 must return now to
the town."

" And I," said Kyt, " to my birthland. You have
been a ' queen's defender.' This much of the g5T)sy's
prophecy has been fulfilled. I will tell her Majesty,
and, in gratitude, 1 doubt not, she will send hither
assistance to you all. Yet, Vytal, my soul is con-
sumed with fear for you and Mistress Dare."

Vytal shrugged his shoulders. " 1 have not yet
worthily defended her, but the day will come."

" Yes," returned the poet, " of a certainty the day
will come. Ne'ertheless, have a care, I pray you,
when again you meet this Frazer. His strategy is un-
surpassed, his cunning resourceful and never spent.
1 could feel happy even now, in leaving, were the actor
dead and his incongruous blue eyes closed, his lips
uncurled. Well, I tarry no longer. The moment
hath come for me to go. I pray you say nothing of
my departure. Let them think that I have been slain
by some wild beast, or if, by ill-luck, they see the sail,
let them believe 1 have deserted."

Vytal shook his head. " That 1 will not. When
you are gone I shall tell them of your sacrifice.
They must know the truth. A surreptitious leaving
and elopement shall not be their charge against

J'OU."

The poet's face grew troubled. "But they will
Uame you," he objected; " hey will kill you for your
share in the concealment ■■, ..ly plan."

" Let them try," retu- . d Vytal. " 1 care not ; now,
farewell."

"Fare=^ell." The two separateH ."bruptly, .and Mar-
lowe, with a light step, artificially careless, made
260

:>tji

-k- »i^JL:iii :

"TT

A Tale of the Lost Colony

his way to the headland beyond which lay the Breton
shallop awaiting him.

In the evening, under cover of darkness, a canoe,
propelled by one man, came stealthily to the southern
shore of Croatan, and went away ^ain with two
occupants. Later these two boarded a vessel that
hovered about near the mainland. The ship, the
canoe, the people were shadows — all wraiths of un-
reality. But suddenly, after the vessel had crept
away, far to the eastward, and the land was .seen no
more, a low, weird song arose at the first moment («'
light. It was from many voices, sailorly and strong,
but the tongue and the tune were strange save to Hx
stalwart singers.

"Ann eoriou to savet ; setu ar flik-ha-flok I
Krenvat ra ann avel ; mont a reomp kaer a-rog ;
Stegna reeur ar gweliou ; ann douar a bella ;
Va c'halon, siouaz d'in ; ne ra med huanada ..."

('The anchors are up; hark to the flik-flokl
The wind freshens; we speed on our course;
The sails blow full ; the land recedes ;
Alas I my heart voices only sigh* . . . ")

Handsome, dark faces, prescient with some mys-
tery of the sea, were revealed slowly as the gray light
spread. Umbrous eyes, that seemed sleeping, though
unclosed, and whose looks were dreams begetting
dreams, gazed out to the eastern line. For the san
had not yet risen.

"Ann eoriou zo savet; setu ar flik-ha-flok I
Krenvat ra ann avel ; mont a reomp kaer a-rog . . .

Then, as the sound of the men's deep voices died
away across the sea, a woman's voice ro.se higher,
in limpid, silvery tones, yet with words that seemed
incongruous in the still gray hour of dawn. For
the sun had not yet risen.
?6|

John Vyfil: A Talc of the Lost Colony

"Let the world slide, let the world go;
A fiff for care and a fig for woe;
If 1 can't pay, why, I can owe.
And death maken o~ual the high and low^
Be meiT'. -riends!"

But the truest singer
shrouded by the daybr
depths of slumber.

For the sun had not yet risen.

fhem all lay in the bow,
. mist, and silent in the

Thus Christopher Marlowe — an impression, a song,
a vivid but fleeting picture — passed from the life of
a new-world people.

•K^ir-. iT^

CHAPTER XXIII

'But who comes here?
How now ?"
- ..'ARLOWE, in Th* J«w of Malta.

"Master Christopher Marlowe hath dis-
appeared. " The assertion came from Ananias Dare,
who at noon joined a number of his fellows idling in
the town.

"Ay," said a gossip following him, "and Gyll
Croyden is nowhere to be found."

"Marlowe gone!" exclaimed one.

"Gyll Croyden missing!" ejaculated another.

"The poet and his love," insinuated the gossip.
The women exchanged glances ; the men were grave
with apprehension.

" By St. George, 'tis a strange hap," said a soldier.

"Some ill hath overtaken them as retribution,"
declared the Oxford preacher.

"Let us institute a search," suggested several
simultaneously. "We may fine' them."

"Nay, they've not been seen lor many hours."

" But we should try."

"Well, then, 'twill keep us fro' twiddling our
thumbs. Ho, Prat! Give us aid. 'Ods precious!
Where's the merry-andrew gone? Was she not hts
light o' love as well?"

"Ye.s," laughed the gossip, "but saw you not
Prat's look when 1 told you she had disapjxjared?
He and his bear have gorii' a-roaming in the forest,
poof ciowijf"

Tmrnf^

wS^^

John Vytal

Many shook their heads with indulgent pity

Come, let us go in search."

But Ananias Dare, who, being in the turmoil of a
struggle agamst himself, had said htUe, now stayed
them. They are not in jeopardy. We ourselves
have more to fear. Last night 1 saw a ship bear
away to the east. My masters, 1 doubt not they
have clandestmely deserted us. They have gone "
Deserted us I" The exclamation was not from
one only but all, and an angry muttering ran
through the company.

" These poets have no courage."

"She was afraid to stay. The parson bade her
marry.

" Wc are well rid of them."

"Ay, but 'tis an outrage."

Then a new-comer spoke in sharp, condemnatory
tones, not agamst the subjects of their talk, but
agamst their own contumely. It was Vytal " Yes
Christopher Marlowe hath gone," he said "for
your sake, not his own. A Breton shaUop came
from the north, and he, for a cause beyond your ken
hath taken passage therein. In England, he will
gam audience with the queen, and persuade her
Majesty to send us aid. The thing is done. Now
make the best of it."

Ananias started forward. "And you knew he
was going?"
"1 knew it."

"Yet you dared to withhold the knowledge from
us?

Vytal's lip curled. " '1 was no greaf daring, but
only kmdness. 1 held you to your trust, and so shall
till death." They started toward him, wrathful
notous. "Oh, you seek to end the matter now? I
am at your service. Here, Hugh, to my side I" The
264

• .*"1P

f.T^'

A~Jmm

A Tale of the Lost Colony

giant, hurling aside all who sought to oppose him,
obeyed, with broadsword drawn.

Ananias fell back from the front ranks swearing,
his retreat seeming to affect the others with a like
discretion.

" 1 have fought for you and by your side," said Vy-
tal, a new note of grief in his voice; " yet with death
you would repay me."

"Ay, he fought for us well," cried Rouse, fervent-
ly, and the words were echoed in embarrassed whis-
pers through the crowd.

Slowly tliey turned and left him.

For several hours a stout vagabond wandered
aimlessly through the wtxxls, now and then address-
ing an unresponsive companion. "She's gone; my
laughing Gyll is gone! Come, your Maje.sty, get
you into the barge; we'll go to Roanoke." The
heavy craft, bulky and awkward as its occupant.s,
moved on and on through the night until at last it
touched the southern shore of Roanoke. "Behold
that glade, your Majesty ; it is the very spot where
you danced with her while I piped, and the Indians
looked on with wonder. But, body o' me ! those
days are gone. King Lud, thou'lt dance no more."
And the vagabond clasped arms with his comrade.
" Those days are dead ; let 'em be forgot."

Thus together, hither and thither, round and
about, the strange pair wandered, until they came
to a ravine margined with a natural arbor of grapes
whose tangled vines clambered to the trees and lay
like sleeping snakes in a near-by opening. To these
the bear paid no attention, but sniiTed about the
trunks of trees for fruit of another kind. One of the
arbors, however, interested the soldier.

" It was here," he said, " that her wit right bravely
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John Vytal

saved her from Towaye, and she clipped the locks
o' her sunny head a- weeping. Lack -a -day, those
times are mine no longer. Let em be bygones, Roger
I 'rat, and think no more on 't, I do beseech you."

Suddenly he paused and leaned forward. A long
rope shone lustrous amid the tendrils of the arbor.
''Body o' me! 'tis the very strand!" and, extricating
It, he looked about to make sure that even the bear
had not discovered his secret. Then, as King Lud
disapiicared in the woods, he sat down for a moment
on the ground, and, gently laying the shining curls
acro.ss his knees, stroked them again and again,
murmuring inaudibly as they moved restlessly in
the breeze or caught in his clumsy fingers, while,
with a bewildered expression, he rolled his eyes!
At last he tlirust the golden braid into the bosom
of his doublet, and for once the new mournful-
ness of his round, red face was not absurd. But
presently he frowned and rose jerkily to his feet.
"Yes, that pygmy Rouse is right," he muttered.
"Ye're daft, Roger Prat— daft, indeed."

Thereafter, calling to the tear, he spent the day
in returning laboriously to Croatan, on whose shore
the animal, sufficiently tamed to rove at large, left
him, and, still with an unsatisfied appetite, loped off
into the forest.

In the evening Eleanor Dare sat in her dining-
room with Vytal. "Then he has actually gone?"

" Yes, on a Breton shallop. He waited for months,
hoping that the chance would come at last."

"But he never told me," said Eleanor.

"Nay, for perhaps the jwwer was not in him."

She looked deeply thoughtful. "Oh, I compre-
hend it all now, but then 1 considered the farewell
one of his vagaries. 1 thought he was bidding good-
2fifi

A Tale of the Lost Colony

bye to me only — you understand — yet now his words
come back to mc with double force. Captain Vytal,
we have lost a friend."

"Yes," said the soldier, "in truth a friend. It is
my duty, however, to tell you that we have regained
an enemy;" with which he told her briefly of their
meeting with Frazer, of the latter 's pretensions,
trickery, and escape. At mention of the duel's climax,
he coldly chid himself without forbearance as he
would have censured any other in his place. " There
will be a second attemiJted invasion," he said, "to
rejiel which we must harljor all our strength. In
some unaccountable way this fellow hath escape'd
Manteo, who but just now has returned, after a futile
search. Moreover, Mistress Dare — " But he paused
abruptly. He would say no more. From her and
from all he must withhold for always the conviction
that, by some terrible mischance, John White had
come to Roanoke again and gone.

For a moment her eyes questioned him, but, find-
ing no answer, she forbore to voice the query, and
quickly dismissed the subject as he willed. Her
eyes flashed. "We must, at all cost, defeat them,
and assert our rights so strongly as to preclude the
possibility of repeated threats."

"We shall."

" Oh, captain, 1 pray you give me work to do in
our defence. Idleness palls upon me in times like
these. Give me opportunity, if needs be, to suffer
for the common good."

He looked deep into her eyes. " You are one of the
few," he said, slowly, " who are worthy to suffer, and,
therefore, 'tis for you 1 fear."

To this she would have replied in all the bravery
of her hopeful womanhood, but suddenly her ex-
pression changed. "Who is that?" she whispered,
^1

r 3

John Vytal

gazing- at a near-by window ; and then, as a head
was thrust in at a casement, she laughed with evi-
dent relief, for the long nose of King Lud, who stood
without on his hind-legs, was sniffing the air of the
dining-hall.

In another second the animal had dropped to his
natural [wsture, and was for shambling off to Roger's
cabin, but Vytal's quick eyes had caught sight of a
whitish object suspended from the animal's neck.
Uttering a short call by which Prat was wont to sum-
mon his pet, Vytal opened the door, and saw King
Lud irresolutely awaiting him. With a warn-' ■:
gesture to Eleanor, bidding her remain in the hoi ,
he went out and stroked the bear's head; then, bend-
ing down, untied a thong of deerskin and took from
under the shaggy throat the object he had noticed.
Returning, he held it in the light, while his brow, con-
tracting, darkened. "It is the very horn," he said,
"of Frazer's using. But thore is more, too," and he
drew a crumpled scrap of paper from the muzzle of
the instrument. Spreading it out on the table, he
read the first words, whose letters, all small capitals,
were formed by innumerable perforated dots pricked
through the paper evidently by the sharp point of a
weapon.

"To Mistress Dare—"

Vytal looked up at Eleanor. " It is probably unfit
for your perusal; therefore, with your permission,
1 will read it first myself," and, as she inclined her
head, he did so.

" To Mistress Dare, — This promise writ with my poniard :
I will return anon, my love. The king lives, waiting for his
royal consort. It may be a day, it may be a year, or several
years, but in the end, I swear to you, that I will come and claim
mine own Yet, if at any time our friend, Captain Vytal, seeks
268

A Tale of the Lost Colony

crown Prince of Kn«land, yet your '-"^'^^tn buDLEV."

Vvtal tore the paper into shreds. "Once more,"
he sS "this nwuntetenk hath grossly .nsulte.1
mv qveen " Eleanor's cheeks flushed vivully.

r- a supreme effort he withdrew h,s eyes fn.n. the
cr—to ken of her love and stared fi-dy through
the casement into the outer darkness of n.ght.^ Our
queen," he added, in a low, metallic voice, I.hza-
beth."

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CHAPTER 1

"The restless course
That Time doth run with calm and silent foot.''
— Marlowe, in Doctor Faustus.

Ow the shore of Roanoke, under the eastern cliff,
a young Indian stood alone, listening. Tall and
straight as a spear, his dark form, undrai)ed, save
at the loins, suggested, in the moment of immobility,
a bronze statue, fresh from a master-hand. The at-
tentive poise, the keen, expectant eyes, the head
thrown back, implied in every muscle and outline a
mystery, for the whisper of whose voice he waited
breathless. But, as the desired sound was not forth-
coming, the spell broke suddenly. He moved, and the
all-unconscious pose was lost in activity. With light
steps that seemed to fall upon an ethereal roadway,
even less solid than the shifting sands, he went to a
copse of trees beneath the cliff and, bending forward,
scanned the long vines and grasses that ran wild be-
neath his feet. Through the canopy of green above
hira a host of sun-rays made their way, and, separating
into a myriad golden motes, played in and out amid
the maze of cedar-roots that met his eyes. A breeze,
laden with the fragrance of numberless shrubs and
vagrant flowers, stirred the straight black strands
of his hair, to which the sun lent a lustrous gloss like
the sheen of a raven's wing. Was it only the air,
fresh and warm with midsummer balm, that filled
him to the flood with ardent life? Was it merely the

s 273

John Vytal

: ''iii

sun that kindled thoso lights in his eyes, and only
the free (lux of animal siiirils thai iK)sses.sed him?
The eauerness i)f hisiiucst jjave answer, and even the
soiij^-birds, now in s.lence watching! him from hi^h
aljove, seemed to divine that here was no inlrudinn
fowler, no mere hawk more |K)werful than them-
selves.

Ajjain he paused, listening, and now the intent
look changed to an expression of a))prehension and
dismay. The statue of lloi)e was transformed to a
figure of Alarm ; the pleasure of seeking to the dis-
quietude of a search in vain.

Suddenly, however, from the branch of an oak-
tree, in the heart of whose shadow he stood, a voice
came down to him, blithe, mei.y, triumphant, and
the voice, for all its melody, was not a bira s. " Dark
Eye, the White Doe is here." He l<x)ked up, smiling,
and somewhat mortified, but not long, for in a min-
ute the maid, who had outwitted him in their game
of hide-and-seek, stood on the ground, her laughing
eyes and words bantering him without mercy. " Oh,
what availeth the speed and craft of Dark Eye when
the White Doe hides?"

" Virginia," he said, pronouncing the name with
difficulty, " thou art no white doe, but a spirit of the
woods."

As a description of her appearance his observation
was not amiss. The little Virginia Dare, a child
no longer, seemed rather a spirit than a maid. Yet
in the gentle curves of her form and the expressive
depth of her hazel eyes there was already a promise of
maturity. They were a pair of rovers, these two,
without guile, without one marring trace of worldly
comprehension, without that indefinable, but ever-
apparent, disingenuousness of face and voice that
comes when the fruit of knowledge has been tasted ;
274

A Tale of the Lost Colony

they wore (Iolt, rovLlliiit,' in their forest frcclmii, and
sea-nulls, li>vinLt the water. Sylvanites, harharians,
brother and sister, j,">iiii,' and eoiniti),' as Ihey wiMed,
they were always together, and, as yet, in ni. ly
consciims of themselves.

And the t;uardian anncl was ICleanor. To lier
the freedom of their companionshii) w.is a source of
lonstant joy. Had she not done well to leave their
ICden iuilx)unded by convention? Could she not
thus in a measure regain what she lurself had lost,
and allow Virginia the h.ii)|)iiie.ss which had Ikcu
withheld from her? "Yes," she answered, in ojie
of her reveries, "it is well." And from the day of
that first decision, X'ir^inia, always clad in white
draperies, loose and clinuin^, w'ut barefoot, hatless,
and unrestrained. The years of restriction were yet
ill the future.

hideetl, as the two now stood toj;ether on the shore
— primordial lx'int;s, all unblemished by a past —
that future, thomjh approaching, seemed far away.

"Come," said V^iririuia, after she had taunted him
sufliciently to |)lease her whim, " you so nearly found
nie that I will jjrant reward for the tedious quest."

She went to the b:ise of the clilT, while he, en -
chantt>d by her every motion, and striving; to iruess
the nature of the guerdon, followed her in silent won-
der. Near the cliff she paused and took a shell, i)iin!,
shallow, and tianslucent, from an old wampum-
I«nich that, in their childhood, he had i,'ivcn her.
\ext, she plucked from a vine that rambled down the
cliff -side a cluster of scrapes, jrreen as their own
leaves, and almost bursting. "There," .,he .said,
casting them on a strip of mossy ground; "now
wait," with which she trod ujxm the cluster with her
bare feet; then, as their luscious juice ran freely,
held them aloft, and the shell beneath, .so that into

John Vytal

it the sparkling' drops fell cmc by one until they over-
lluweil the brim.

And now, after touching; the neix.'nthe to her lips,
she held out the delicate chalice to him and bade him
drink.

As thounh participating in some manic that \v<iuld
presently enchant them both, he lasted, and would
h ne emptietl the shell delij.;htedly, but on a sudden
he started and, lettiiii; fall the fairy cup. |K)inted to
the .sea. With a cry of astonishment, Virginia and
her comrade ran to a wauling path which led to a
luLther vantage- |)oint, and in a moment they stood
u|)on a headland, side by side, he transfixed, she
trembling with excitement.

" 'Tis a ship," she said, breathlessly. " 1 can just
romemlx!r the white wings. In one of these .ships
my grandfather sailed away, and they say that 1
saw him go. In another went Master Kyt, but 1
saw not the wings that bore him from us. 1 won-
der if Master Kyt is returning? How many years
have i)assc-d since he departed?" She held up her
hand and countc-d them on her tapering fingers.
" 'Tis five—"

But for once the Indian was not heeding her.
"Look," he said, "there is not one ship only."

Turning again to face the sea, she saw two dis-
tinct white clouds, one in the middle distance, one
just surmounting the horizon.

"Come," suggested Virginia, "let us give the sig-
nal to our people who fish in the sound." So saying,
she led him along the palisade until they reached Vy-
tal's deserted hut, nerr which the old culverin still
remained on guard and ready-jirimed. " This is the
way," she commanded — " Captain V^ytal showed me,"
and, when he had obeyed her instructions, a deafen-
ing roar went seaward from the land. "Oh, 'tis a
276

A Talc of the Lost Coli

'">■

terrible sou id," criwl N'irniiiia, covermn lur cirs
with her hands; "but that is t'iii>ui,'h, and mm kl
lis Ko down to iiicct the iowtismeii as tluy laud and
tell them the tidings iK'fore tliey spy those wiin,'s
themselves." As she started away, lirst one, then
another inusket-shot, each fainter than the hist, an-
swered her signal from the soutli. With a loiii; sik -
cession of alarums, the tisliermen repealed the lirsl
starthng re|x)rt Ixick and l)iick even to Croalan.

By the time Virginia and the hidian reached the
northern shore several Ixirjjes were already within
sight.

Vytal, leading in a canoe, was the first to laml.

"Two ships are coming I" cried N'irginia. ' Wliere
is my mother?" Hut the soldier strode past l;er,
making no reply, his eyes ;ibla/.e with a light that
long ago had left them as though forever.

Hugh Rouse, stepping ashore from the next canoe,
Icanexl forward from his great height and sei/.e-d \'ir-
ginia by the arm as though to crush her with a single
grasp. "What were lho.se words of thine?" he de-
mande-d, with unprecedented fer(x;ity. "Speak them
again!"

" A ship is coming," she said, half fearfully ; " nay,
two." But the last words were unheard, and the
giant, turning to face the many approaching barges,
roared out, "A sail!"

"AsadI Asaill A sail I" was the wild cry wliich,
repeated again and again, with increasing frenzy,
went ringing from the foremost craft to the very last.
And, before long, the headland on the eastern coast
was overrun by mad men and women who, with tears
streaming from their eyes and kerchiefs frantically
waving, gave free vent to their overwhelming joy.
The floodgates of emotion, so long forced to wilii-
stand a mighty strain, had lx.eri .shuttered in nn in-
277

John Vytal

slant; and now the torrent, tempestuous, whirling,
wild, upleaping, uncontrollable, burst from their very
souls.

Salvation was at hand.

All believed so, and the belief possessed them ut-
terly, from those who stood at the edge of the headland
transfixedly gazing seaward, to those who shouted
with gladness, and the others who, standing yet far-
ther back, bowed their heads while the preacher voiced
their thanksgiving to God. In the foremost line,
silent and rigid, stood Vytal; in the last, Eleanor
Dare, with her daughter, praying. But soon Vir-
ginia, .slipping her hand from her mother's, lejoined
the Indian, to chide him laughingly for having let
fall the shell, which now lay in fragments far below.
For to these two alone the sails meant little, seeming
no more than the wings to which they had likened
them. To the White Doe and Dark Eye there was
no far-distant home ever calling for its own. Unlike
their English neighbors, these two were no foster-
children, but inheritors of the land by right of birth.
This was their country, this their home. Only hero
could their happiness mature, and seemingly only
apart from the colony could they live as their hearts
desired. For that uncertain, wavering shyness and
sign of an uncomprehended fear, which long ago
Marlowe had noticed, still softened Virginia's eyes
with a mystic veil. She was not beloved by the
settlers save as a pet bird whose grace and beauty
they admired. For she lacked the magnetism of her
mother, yet received, perhaps, more frequent praise.
There was still that difference between Eleanor and
Virginia which Marlowe had defined as the difference
between spirituality and mysticism. The one was in
all ways a solace, the other pretty to look upon, but
never restful, and this lack of restfulness, more than
278

A Tale of the Lost Colony

all else, explains her unpopularity in the settlement
of laborers.

To-day, feeling more restless than ever, "Look,"
she said, " Roger Prat shall pipe to us. " With which
she led her companion by the hand through the bab-
bling throng to Roger, who, arm-in-arm with his
bear, was swaggering here and there, discoursing
bombastically on the approaching ships, as though
he himself deserved thanks for the benefit.

"How now, Goodman Prat," inquired Virginia,
as they joined him ; " art going to leave thy flute si-
lent at such a time?"

He turned and, with head on one side, surveyed
her narr )wly "The pipe pipeth no more," he said,
"for the necessary wind hath gone out of my heart."

"Lungs," corrected Virginia, with a silvery laugh.

"Lungs," he assented, gravely; "but. White Doe,
see here!" He pointed to a small tabor that hung
by his side. " 1 have brought this drum wherewith
to celebrate. Hark to Roger's tattoo!" And, draw-
ing from his belt a pair of drum-sticks, he marched
about, with a rat-a-tat-tat-tat-too. "Sing, ho, the
taborin, little taborin," he cried, "merry taborin,"
and his sticks danced furiously on the drum. He
was thinking of England, and of the chance that he
might return to forgive Gyll Croyden.

But Virginia, pouting, turned away. "That is
not music," she said to the Indian. " He is changed. "

Hers was the only frown that, until now, had
crossed a face that morning. Hilarity laid hold on
the jubilant throng, and turned all save the most
serious ones to children.

Musket - shots rang out in celebration; cheer on

cheer filled the air, until, growing hoarse with their

incessant huzzahs, planters, soldiers, traders, wives.

daughters, sons, and even lonely widows and or-

279

John Vytal

phans, still kept waving their arms to the distant
ships in silence. And still Roger, with King Lud
in his wake, went the round, now gesticulating in
the air with both of his drum-sticks, next pointing
with one to the sails, and again setting the pair ajig
on his tabor in clamorous acclaim.

Suddenly, however, catching sight of Vytal 's face,
he desisted and hastened to the captain's side. Vytal
spoke in a low voice that none but Prat and Hugh
Rouse might catch the tenor of his words. "An 1
mistake not, those ships are not our friends. " Roger
and Hugh turned, in dismay, to look once more across
the water.

Rouse, shading his eyes with a great banc', swore
roundly beneath his breath.

" Body o' met" exclaimed Prat, who for once could
say no more.

Vytal had spoken truly. For now that the ships
came slowly within range of the watchers' vision,
the fact became obvious to one and another on the
headland that these were not vessels of English build.

Gradually a desperate silence assumed sway over
the colonists, while they advanced anxiously to the
cliff's edge. " They are enemies," whispered one.

" Ay, 'fore Heaven, they are not of friendly counte-
nance."

Then a voice rose trembling in a high key, and
Ananias, terror-struck, covered his eyes. "Oh, my
God! the two are Spaniards from St. Augustine.
Look ! Look ! One is the Madre de DiosI"

Vytal turned quickly to the settlers. "Yes, they
are Spaniards," he said, harshly, "and one is the
Madre de Dios. She hath been defeated once; 'tis
for us to sink her now."

A low groan ran through the throng. Alarm had
stifled hope. But, as none gave answer, Vytal spoke
280

A Tale of the Lost Colony

again. "Let those who are afraid return and seek
safety at Croatan. 1 and my men will meet them."
"Yea," laughed Prat, "right gladly meet them."
But already half the number had deserted, and,
led by Ananias, were now stampeding toward their
barges on the southern shore. Only the fighting-
men and Eleanor remained on the headland. Sud-
denly an ejaculation from Prat caused Vytal to turn.
The foremost of the Spanish vessels stood tentatively
with flapping sails, as though undecided, and m
another moment a long, rakish-looking craft, pro-
pelled by several rowers, had left the ships, and was
making its way to the shore. In the prow an officer,
gaudily dressed, stood erect, waving aloft a pike,
from the blade of which a white flag floated lightly on
the breeze. Slowly the long-boat drew nearer, until
its stem swished on the sand. Then, stepping out,
the Spanish officer, wearing no visible arms, turned
to one and another with a lordly insolence, and finally
accosted Vytal in English. "1 am the admiral,"
he said, "of oui little fleet, and would speak with a
person in command."
"1," said Vytal, "govern the colony."
On hearing this the Spaniard started perceptibly
and scrutinized the bleak, impassive face with hc^gl.t-
ened interest. "May I inquire," he asked, with a
curious mingling of autocratic condescension and
true respect, "concerning your Excellency's name?"
"Tis the Wolf," replied Roger Prat, impulsively,
before Vytal could answer.

The admiral smiled. " Ah, the Wolf I 'tis well for
me 1 seek only an armistice at your hands— a short
and friendly truce. We are in sore straits. Having
but recently escaped wreckage, we are now like to die
of thirst and starvation. I have here the usual con-
ditions of an armistice, which I submit for your con-
281

John Vytal

sideration," and he handed Vytal a sheet of paper
which conveyed, in English, his proposal:

" I. That we be pennitted to buy victuals.

" II. That we be allowed to lie off the coast of Virginia wfthout
annoyance or molestation until our ships, which are in leaky
state, shall have been repaired.

" III. That we be granted the right to come ashore in small
bodies for the procuring of lumber and implements necessar>' in
this work of repair, and for supplies, all of which commodities,
including any others that may be offersd and desired, shall be
purchased at a just rate.

" IV. That we, on our part, shall come to land unarmed, your
soldiers to have the full privilege of searching us.

' V. That your right and title to Roanoke Island, and such
adjacent territory as you inhabit, shall in all ways be respected
by us."

Vytal, having read the document aloud, handed
it back to its author. "This hath been quickly
framed," he said, scanning narrowly the other's face;
"or else it was writ before you sighted Roanoke."

The Spaniard laughed uneasily. "I perceive,"
he said, " that his Excellency, the Wolf, hath eyes
which read a man's soul. Yet I myself indited
these proposals at seeing your company on the
headland. 'Twas in no way preconceived, and
that is truth."

"How many men do you command?" asked Vy-
tal, with slow deliberation.

"Threescore soldiers," was the quick response.

" 'Tis well, "said Vytal, "and we are trebly Etrong."

"Trebly!" ejaculated the admiral, unguardedly.

"Nay," observed Vytal, inwardly numbering the
Indians as allies. "Much more than trebly."

The Spaniard covered his surprise with a yawn.
"1 trust you will make haste," he said, "for while
you delay we starve."

"So be it," assented Vytal, curtly, and turned on
his heel.

282

A Tale of the Lost Colony

The admiral bowed and withdrew t(j his long-boat.
'"Tis our only chance," said Vytal to Eleanor.
"We must arm every man, red and white, that, in the
event of treachery, we may die fighting."

"Think you, then," she asked, anxiously,' their
force is so much the stronger?"

" Beyond doubt, madam, they far outnumber us.
His face grew tense, and for a moment almost desider-
ate. " If they gain knowledge of our weakness, we
are lost." .

He spoke hurriedly to Rouse. "Go mstantly to
Croatan. Ask Manteo to bring his tribesmen here
without delay. Say that 1 have sent you. Speak,
then, to our own people. Adjure them, m God's name,
to proceed hither within the hour. Make known the
conditions of the armistice. If fear still deters them,
and they suspect treachery on the part of oar enemies,
make no threat, but say that only within ■..as palisado
can we hope for safety. At Croatan they could not
possibly withstand invaders. Here the fortifica-
tions are ready built. Let the people bring all avail-
able provisions for a siege, yet mention not the word
'siege ' Say merely that until the Simnish depart
we remain here to trade with them." He turned to
Prat " Do vou, Roger, go with Hugh, and by your
wit compel them to obey. My whole trust is in you
both. Make haste!"

Without a word they started oft, the giant with
great strides, the vagabond with rolling gait, and
for once not gar ulous, but genuinely grave.

Vytcil returning to the headland, .six.ke to Dyonis
Harvie, who stood near by. " You, Dyonis, assume
command of the fortress, where the women and
children will look to you for their defence."

For many minutes Eleanor and Vytal stood in
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John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

silence, motionlcs. From far away came the so.md
of the surf droning on the beach, with which, from
beyond the screen of woods between them and the
town, a low hum of preparation was blent monot-
onously. At last they walked to the brow of the
cliff whereon stood the watchful culverin, and looked
down at the lengthening shadows on the shore

.u"'''.^f """^'^ "^ Spaniards and Englishmen were
gathered together here and there busy in trade

Eleano7 ''"^ ''"'^ *''" """^^ peacefully," observed

"Yes," said Vytal, "they traffic as friends."

CHAPTER 11

"Here, man, rip up this panting breast of mine.
And take my heart in rescue of my friends."

—MARLOWE, in Edmrd the Second.

On the fourth night after the ships' arrival, the
colonists and Hatteras Indians, all of whom, at Vy-
tal's command, had come from Croatan, congressed
near the fortress of Roanoke. In the centre of the
square a camp-fire of great logs and dried branches
roared and crackled cheerfully, while encircling the
blaze sat red men and white, some half prone in sleep,
others upright and talking. Somewhat apart from
the main gathering, and just beyond range of the
firehght, were Vytal and Manteo, while, midway
between them and a number of sleeping soldiers, sat
Virginia Dare and her Indian comrade. Not far
away lay Hugh Rouse, sprawled near the outer bor-
der of embers, and snoring loudly, while next to him
sat Roger Prat, blinking at the fire. In the fortress
most of the women and children, under Dyonis Har-
vie's protection, were slumbering peacefully, while
Dyonis himself sat yawning in the doorway. Each
of the three entrances to the town was guarded by
one or more pickets, well armed. At the northern
gateway, which led to Vytal's cabin, a single sentry
stood alert; at the southern and nearest, by which
Eleanor had made egress that night when Frazer
and Towaye had captured her, another soldier kept
careful watch; at the main portal on the eastern side

I; j

John Vytal

pT-rtt '^ '"u"^ '" ""^ ff" ^'"1 muskets loaded.

urthfr.nore a Ixxly of twelve arquebusiers lav far
U.-^ow on the beach, to make sure that from the Sfan-
i-sh ships no landrng was attempted.

fo trade at night, or leave the town without Vv-
tal s iH.Tmi.ssum, was forbidden. And perhaps only
one ,K..rson at Roanoke rebelled inwardly aga nst the
ktte, , t„,t Thi ^^^^ Virginia Dafe, whose

nature demanded absolute freedom. "Oh tell me
Uark Eye, she said, as the silence and bondage be^
came unbearable, "why are we com,«;lled to remain
here hke prisoners?"

"It is the will of our father, the Wolf," replied the
Indian. He seeks to protc>ct his children "

55he made an impatient gesture. "Come, Dark
Eye, let us ask Roger Prat if we may not go down to
the sea for another shell and for my father. C
know he strangely disappeared to-day and has not
been seen again?"
;;Thy father disappeared?" exclaimed the Indian.
Yes, withm the forest. But come I "and together
they jomed the soldier. "Goodman Prat 1 prav
you give us liberty. Not all the armies of the world

Xs-""' ^" ^' ^^'- '^''''' ^'' '=^^^' ^«^i"^

arboTr^' '"*^^^^ P'^*' dreamily, "arbors, grape-

^ J Come," she persisted, "take us past the centro-

With a jerk of his head, as though awakine from
revene, Rog r looked up at her. "Nay, Whh! C
It IS impossible. Will you not sit here and comfori
me? I am depressed."

Poutingly, she granted his request, and, patting

the grass beside her, indicated an adjacent seat for

the Indian. How now, Roger ?" said she " Whv

286 ^

A Tale of the Lost Colony

so glum and owlish? Is 't because your friend King
Lud is absent?"

For a moment Prat surveyed her in silence, rolling
his eyes, until at length, "Nay," he replied, "I am
well accustomed to his Majesty's peregrinations.
Oftentimes for a whole week he roves, and never a
sight of him. 'Tis but three days now since he went
a-nutting. Nay, nay, 'tis not o' the bear 1 think —
not o' the bear."

"Of what, then?"

But, giving no answer, he only blinked and blinked
at the fire, so mournfully that many, noticing his
look, long remembered it.

Vytal watched him silently.

"He hath even forgot," observed Manteo, "to
smoke his pipe of uppowac."

The soldier made no response, but asked, finally :
"Art sleepy, Manteo?"

"Nay, most wakeful."

" I, too, am so ; but sith for two nights no sleep
hath come to me, 'tis es.sential that 1 rest. Do you
keep watch, and, if aught occurs beyond the ordinary,
arouse me instantly." Whereupon, stretching him-
self at full length, Vytal folded his arms across his
eyes.

Nearly all were now Ij ing asleep, and the fire
biimed very low. Only Virginia Dare, Dark Eye,
and Roger Prat seemed wide-awake.

The low tread of the sentinel at the nearest gate
told them that safety was assured. The stillness of
the town, profound and all-pervading, was broken at
rare intervals only by the screech of an owl or the
low murmur of voices, while the dreary monotone
of the distant surf seemed as it were to accompany
the dirge of silence.

Suddenly, however, the sentry's voice, in a low
287

iil

John Vytal

challenge, caught the quick ear of Virginia, but, as
/rat turned apprehensively, she laughed aloud.
Then Roger himself shook with merriment. " Body
o' me I he hath challenged King Lud, and, I'll war-
rant, is now calling himself a fool. Behold hi.s
Majesty!" And, sure enough, there was the well-
known bulky form loping on all fours through the
entrance. As it came near the circle of firelight the
cumbrous shadow flattened out.

"He's not overjoyed to see you," laughed Vir-
ginia, and she would have gone forward to pat the
shaggy head, but Prat restrained her.

"Nay, wait. Tis a trick of his. He knows well
he hath been a deserter, and is full of shame. Look
you— his eyes are shut; the prankish monarch pre-
tends to be indifferently asleep. Now take no notice,
but out of the comer of your eye watch him. He al-
ways comes to me in the end, an 1 pay no attention to
his whimsicality."

Virginia, pleased at any diversion, cast a side-
long glance at the long snout which lay tranquilly
between the paws, more in the position of a dog's nose
than a bear's. " For once," she observed, " his Maj-
esty is not snifiSng at us."

"Tis his game." declared Prat. "Now watch,
and I'll turn my back impertinently."

For some time the huge pate lay motionless. " He's
really asleep," said Virginia.

"That may be," allowed Roger, "for I doubt not
his three days' roaming has wearied him considera-
bly. He's a cub no longer, and has, I'll swear, lum-
bago, like myself. Let him lie. But here's a great
brute who's slept too long. " And Roger poked Hugh
Rouse viciously with his foot. Yawning, the giant
rolled over, and surveyed them stupidly. "Num-
skull I" exclaimed Prat, "thank the Lord we look
288

A Tale of the Lost Colony

not to you for protection. I'd sooner trust Kintj Lud,
though for the moment even he's u-dreaming. "

Virginia, amused at his raillery, cast another
look behind her. "Nay," she whisjKired. "See, he
has crawled nearer."

"Oh, has he, indeed!" said Roger. "I'll give him
his deserts in time. Out first this dwartling here
must explain himself." He glanced down at Rouse.
" How now, sirrah? — think you we are safe at home in
England? Do your weighty dreams increase our
numbers, that are in reality so desperate small ? Think
you the Spanish force could not swallow us up as
thy great maw would engulf a herring? Poor fool,
sleep on in thy fond delusion," and, raising his brows
in feigned contemirt, Roger turned to the silent Ind-
ian and Virginia. "Now the lord chancellor shall
have the honor of punishing his renegade monarch
right merrily."

He rose, turned, and swaggered toward the ungain-
ly shadow.

As if the animal had readily divined his intention,
the great nose shifted now this way, now that, irres-
olutely. "Seel" cried Roger, "he creeps away like
a beaten hound," and Virginia saw the bowlder-like
shadow rolling off toward the palisade.

"Villain!" cried Prat, "come hither," with which
he ran forward wrathfuUy.

But just as he was about to cuff the upraised snout
with the palm of his hand, the awkward figure rose,
and a glistering light shone for an instant in the
fire-glare. With a groan Roger stumbled, and would
have fallen, but now a mass of dark fur was flung at
his feet, and a man, who had emerged from beneath
it, started, quick as a flash, toward the gateway.
Uttering a loud oath o, pain and anger, the soldier
sprang across the bearskin, and, although mortally
T 289

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

wimnded, contrived to gra.ip the stranger. Then,
with a great effort, for at each moment the blood
spurted from his breast, he threw his captive heavily
ti> the ground. Again aiul again his antagonist's
short blade flashed and buried itself in his ai.n; yet,
flinging hir ' bodily on the writhing form, Roger
held the spy a , risoner.

Even as he fell, a cry from Manteo awoke Vytal,
while the others, startled by the commotion, leaped
to their feet in wild confusion. Then, above the tur-
moil, rose Vytal's voice piercingly: '"Tis naught!"
For a single glance at the struggling pair and the
empty bearskin had told him that a spy was caught.

As the excited colonists gathered about the grai>-
pling couple, Roger rolled over in a swoon, and Vytal
looked down at the captive, who was in an instant
held firmly by Manteo and Rouse.

"It is Frazer," he said, calmly. "Bind him, and
take him to the fort."

" Nay," was (he prisoner's rejoinder, in a low, musi-
cal voice, " 'tis his Highness, the Crown Prince."

CHAPTER 111

"Oh, must thia day be period of my lifeTj

— Manlowb, in Edvnrd tht Sfcond.

As Vytal turned from Frazer his (ace changed.
The look of cold hate gave way to an even deeper ex-
pression of sadness, which, mellowing his bleak vis-
age as the sunset glow softens the outlines of a rock,
bes|x>ke tender "oncem and apprehension.

Around Roger a crowd had gathered, to the centre
of which Vytal gravely made his way.

The soldier lay prone and siK it, the bearskin,
which had been folded, forming a pdlow for his head.
He had evidently regained consciousness, yet from
his bared chest a stream of blood welled slowlj'. Fra-
zer's weapon had pierced a lung.

Beside him knelt Hugh Rouse, imploring him to
apeak. " Call rae names, Roger ; berate me an you
will for sleeping; but say 'tis no mortal wound."

A chirurgeon who stood near by shook his head.
" 'Tis, indeed, mortal," he declared.

And Roger's oyes rolling up to the chirurgeon's
face seem ' to rejieat, " Yes, mortal."

As the firelight was now oKscured by the crowd,
.several soldiers, snatching resinous branches from
the blaze, held them aloft to look once more upon their
comrade's face. Vytal bent over the dying man.
" Dost know me, Roger?"

Slowly the lips parted as the round head shifted
restlessly. "Yea, well; and always 1 shall know
2£'

John Vytal

you. Body o' me I not know Captain Vytal— I, Prat,
who have followed him through thick and thin ? 'Tis
impossible."

He raised his head and smiled at Rouse. " And
you, too, my dwarfish soul— how could I mistake that
shock o' flaxen hair?" He passed a hand over the
gic.it's head affectionately; then, rising with pain
to one elbow, turned again to Vytal.

"You have saved us," said the captain, "but at
what a cost!"

Prat made a deprecatory gesture. "Ay, thank
God! saved you," he replied; "yet have a care.
This Frazer hath heard me prating to Rouse anent
our weakness. You'll look to it, no doubt, he con-
veys not the information to that peacock, the Spanish
admiral. But, ah me, the young wild -slip hath
killed King Lud. My last pet is departed. Oh, why
did 1 not know his Majesty would never crawl away
like a whipped cur? In troth 'twas most unnatural.
Yet the darkness favored him — the darkness — i'
faith 'tis even darker now." With an effort, he put
a hand to his belt, and, drawing out the flute that
for so long had been silent, held it to his lips. But,
without sounding a single strain, he let it fall with
one of his old grimaces. " Nay," he muttered, " not
a note; ne'ertheless, when I'm gone, 'Be merry,
friends ; a fig for care and a fig for woe ; be merry,
friends.'" He sank back exhausted and closed his
eyes.

"He is dead," groaned Hugh.

But Roger, with a drawn smile, eyed him side-
ways. " Not dead by any means, poor dullard. No,
not yet dead."

At this his face briglilenod for a moment, and he
groped in the breast of his doublet near the wound.
Several fine threads of gold were woven round his
2q2

flP

A Tale of the Lost Colony

fingers, but no one saw them. " Take nothing from
me," he said; and then, withdrawing his hand,
smiled almost bitterly. " 'Tis just as well 1 die, for
my life, as the song saith, hath been lived to ' please
one and please all,' everlastingly 'please one and
please all, so pipeth the crow sitting upon a wall.'
Well- a -day, let the crow pipe on, but Roger pipeth
no longer."

His bulging eyes flashed suddenly in the cressets'
glare. "Nay, I'm no piper, but a fighting -man,"
whereupon, rising once more with a great effort to
one elbow, he drew his broadsword and for a moment
held it aloft. Then slowly, as the flame died out
of his eyes, he pointed with it toward the palisade.
"Bury me over there," he said, eagerly, "beyond
the town— over there in the glade. Captain Vytal,
near the western shore. 'Tis where she danced,
you'll remember, and King Lud cut capers before
the Indians. There I'll lie in peace, and th'nk o'
the old mirthfulness, and sometimes the sound of
your guns will come to remind me I'm a soldier."
He held out the heavy blade to Vytal. " Lay it un-
sheathed beside me, captain; also the flute and up-
powac pipe." Once again his head fell to the bear-
skin pillow. "You might shroud me," he added,
feebly, " with all that remains of poor King Lud."

"It shall be done as you require," said Vytal,
hoarsely.

And now there was silence save for the light rustle
through the forest of a new-come breeze, which fanned
the tearful cheeks of the watchers and set the many
torches flickering so that their light wavered un-
certainly across the dying man. Roger's eyes were
closed, yet once more his lips parted. '"Be merry,
friends,' " and, with an old, familiar smile, he died.

29.3

^7r=

iTST

John Vytal

When at last day dawned a striking scene was vis-
ible on the shore.

In the prow of his long-boat, not over twenty feet
from the beach, stood the SiKinish admiral, while
from the brink of the water Vytal spoke to him.

Farther up the strand twelve musketeers were
ranged in line with weapons aimed, not at the
long-boat's crew, but at a single figure that stood
against the cliff. This form, slight and graceful,
was nevertheless distinctly masculine in bearing.
With eyes blindfolded, mouth gagged, and hands fet-
tered behind his back, the man awaited his fate
calmly.

But the fate was yet unknown. The musketeers
stolidly awaited the last signal from their leader,
and the signal was delayed.

"You ijcrceive," said Vytal to the admiral, "that
your friend's life is in iramine.'-it danger. At a word
from me he falls, but at the word 1 desire from you
he hves and shall be saved."

The Spaniard bowed haughtily. "Name your
conditions," and with a swee[) of their oars the rowers
drew nearer to the shore. Vytal turned and glanced
upward at the headland, from which the colonists
were looking down in silent curiosity. Foremost of
all stood Eleanor Dare watching him.
^^ He faced about again to address the admiral.
" The condition is this : that you abandon to us the
Madre de Dios in exchange for the prisoner. Your
spy hath broken our truce. There are but two avail-
able indemnities— the one your ship, the other his
life as forfeit. I bid you choose."

An ironical smile crossed the Spaniard's face. " Do
you consider his life of so great value?" he asked,
banteringly.
"Nay," said V^ytal, "I but seek to estimate your
294

/m&

.■..■^■w ■■■

A Tale of the Lost Colony

own valuation. This fellow hath boasted of a royal
guardian — even the King of Spain."

The admiral bit his lip. " But how am 1 to make
certain that you act in good faith?"

Vytal turned sharply to the musketeers and raised
his hand, while his lips parted. The marksmen's
eyes came down closer to their aim, and t'ere was a
concerted click.

"Stay!" cried the Spaniard, in alarm. "I agree
to your proviso."

Vytal's hand fell, and the sharp-shooters stood at
rest. "To-night," said the soldier, "we shall be
ready to man your vessel."

Slowly the long-boat withdrew, and now Eleanor,
having come down from the headland, stood at Vy-
tal's side. Her face was flushed with excited hope
and admiration. " You have worked our salvation,
captain."

"Nay," he returned, harshly, "not yet"

^*-1E'^«^A"i8»- ""W

CHAPTER IV

"This fear is that which makes me tremble thus."

—Marlowe, in Edward the Second.

The stem discipline of that evening Wcis broken
by one of the colonists, who, having earlier entered
the town from the western wood, now reeled through
the streets, crazed by inebriety and fear. As the
gates were not yet closed, he was permitted once more
to leave the enclosure, which he did by the eastern
entrance. Beyond the palisade he paused for a
moment, swaying heavily, and gazed down at the
shore.

The moon, in its first quarter, was sinking behind
a film of gray clouds. A few traders, Spanish and
English, stood bargaining on the beach. The two
vessels, without lights, lay motionless at anchor.
A number of canoes were hauled up on the sand,
their birch-bark sides shining like silver in the mo. n-
light. The man, looking up and down the coast,
recognized Vytal's gaunt figure in the distance, and
he realized hazily that the soldier was inspecting the
coast-guard before returning to t'le town.

But the blear eyes wandered back to that line of
silver craft, and now, with uncertain gait, the lonely
man descended from the headland. Then, with a
wave of his hand to the contemptuous traders, he
stepped into one of the canoes, and, unsteadily seat-
ing himself, made his way along the coast with
wavering sweeps of his paddle.
296

John Vytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

On coming at last to that part of the beach where
Vytal was giving instructions to the arquebusiers, he
paused, and, keeping his canoe several paces from
shore, spoke quickly to the soldier. "1 am going,"
he said, pointing with his paddle to the eastward,
"away, anywhere, far away."

Vytal turned in surprise. " You're mad. "

The other smiled absently, and, waving his wood-
en blade, held it out toward the forest. "Yes, de-
lightfully mad. Devilish Winginas over there — saw
them my -vn self when 1 started to go away to
the mainla'id. Long line of red demons waiting
^<lemons stremely like those Ralph Contempt de-
scribed — all waiting to capture the town. You'd
better have a care and come away. I'm going away
— anywhere — any place whatever, out into the dark-
ness — through the inlet — over the sea — away from
it all, from all the danger and trouble, all the night-
mares and remorse. I've spent my life retreating,
now I'll retreat once more — once more. " The moon-
light, falling across his face, showed a look so de-
spairing, haunted, and yet drunkenly cheerful, that
for a moment Vytal stood transfixed, staring at him,
as at an apparition of the night. The bloodshot
eyes were wide open and wet with maudlin tears;
the hair was dishevelled and damp with the sweat
of terror. Yet even now there was a certain weird
'oeauty in the face, a peculiar and exquisite refine-
ment. But from behind the beauty a despicable soul
looked out of the eyes, so that even Vytal shuddered
as he saw their glance.

Courage stood face to face with naked Fear.

With a look of disgust, Vytal glanced aboui. for
another boat, but none was near them.

Slowly the canoe drifted from the shore, its occu-
pant bidding farewell to Vytal with a laugh that
297

John Vytal

died in a wail. "Return, or 1 shoot," said tlie sol-
dier, sternly.

But at this the paddle splashed frantically, and
the canoe, now whirling about, now darting out to
sea, went farther and farther from the land.

Vytal, for once, hesitated. To shoot was perhaps
to kill the man, while to refrain from shooting was
almost to countenance his suicide. As a compro-
mise between these two alternatives the soldier took
an arquebus from one of his men and fired in the air.

For a second the canoe paused in its outward
course, then shot far seaward, and the man wildly
waving his paddle, either in triumph or expostulation,
staggered to his feet. At this the frail craft so ca-
reened and trembled that before he could stand fully
erect a torrent of water rushed in across the gun-
wale, and Vytal, aghast on the shore, just distin-
guished his figure, as, with a piercing cry, he tot-
tered, fell sideways, and sank beneath the surface.

"He cannot swim," said one of the arquebusiers,
"any better than a gobbet of lead."

Hastily Vytal waded into the water, and, aUhough
there were no traces of the unfortunate drunkard,
would have struck out toward the upturned craft,
had not a deep voice at this instant restrained him.
Turning, he saw Hugh Rouse standing on the shore,
beckoning to him apprehensively.

"Captain, a force of Winginas attacks the west-
em palisado."

Vytal turned to one of the musketeers. "Bring
hither a canoe and search for his body. He is
drowned in the swift undertow;" then, with a last
searching glance across the silver water, Vytal re-
traced his steps to the beach.

"To the town, Hugh 1 1 follow immediately."
He turned to the arquebusiers. " It rests with you "
298

wr I -^^•^^^'^xrMM^am'mm ns- tauww t*--* f

A Tale of the Lost Colony

he said, "to hold the Spaniards back from land.
Ask no reinforcements. We cannot spare them.
Nor yet seek to retreat within the enclosure. You
will be refused admittance. Your post is here.
Knowing that some of you are the men who would
have mutinied on the fly -boat long ago, I give
you this opportunity to retrieve yourselves," and,
leaving them, he made his way si^eedily to the
town.

As he passal within the main portal it was closed
and barricaded. Rouse and a score of the ablest sol-
diers being left to defend it.

He stopped at the fortress, before which Dyonis
Harvie stood on guard, heavily armed. Eleanor
was in the doorway. Seeing Vytal, she came out
into the square and spoke to him. " Is it well?"

"An hour will show," he answered, quietly.

"Tnen you fear treachery?"

" No, 1 do not fear it. "

"But you suspect it?"

"Nay, madam, 1 am fully aware that a general
attack is intended. A force of Winginas already
threatens our western wall."

She hesitated, seeming loath to speak her mind,
yet compelled by a certain distrust to make known
her anxiety. '1 hope," she said, as though half to
herself, " that none of the colonists will seek to leave
by the Madre de Dios until the issue is certain." Her
voice faltered. " It is my duty to tell you that Ana-
nias plans — "

But Vytal shook his head gravely. "Mistress
Eleanor, Ananias Dare is dead!"

"Dead!" she gasped, in a vague, incredulous be-
wilderment. "DeadI"

"Yes; drowned."

A high flush of crimson came to her cheeks and
299

•*,!■* e-

■'

John Vytal

suffused itself quickly about her temples ; then as
suddenly died, leaving her wan and pallid.

Vytal, averting his face, while in silence .she re-
entered the fortress, went slowly to Dyonis Harvie.
"Is the prisoner well guarded?"

"Ay, most carefully— in a cell below the fort."

"Your main duties are to protect the women and
keep him there," with which Vytal turned quickly
away toward the western palisade.

Save for the light of the stars and of a wavering
flambeau here and there, the town was in darkness.
And but for the occasional reports of rauskets, a.«
the inland pickets fired into the forest at an unseen
foe, no unusual sound broke the silence of night.

Yet each minute of that night, winged or halt,
slow or quick-fleeting, was to every man big with
import and terrible endeavor. The very air that filled
their lungs seemed impregnated with suspense.

Here was no camp-fire and lounging throng in
the main square, but only gloom and solitude, for
the colony, broken up into small commands, stood
in alert attitudes, with straining eyes, at every en-
trance.

The armistice was apparently at an end, yet some
few consoled themselves with the fond delusion that
the Winginas' intermittent attack had not been in-
spired by the Spaniards. One or two of these sought
Manteo to question him concerning the numbers of his
hereditary foeraen, but Manteo was not in the town.
And, furthermore, not one of his tribe could be found
save a few of the women. The Hatteras Indians had
disappeared, men and boys, mysteriously.

"They have deserted us," said some of the colo-
nists, despairingly ; but the leaders knew that, by
Vytal's command, Manteo held his men in waiting
far within the western forest. Thus at a signal the
300

A Talc of the Lost Colony

friendly tribesmen could be called upon to fall on the
Winginas' rear and decimate them from an ambush.

Yet Vytal rightly conjectured that this attack of
the hostile savages was a Spanish feint to draw
off his soldiers from the coast ; and even now, as he
concentrated the pickets in a body to meet a concerted
mrush from the wixxls, a great clamor of arquebuses
and heavy pieces arose from the shore.

The S])aniards were landing. A general assault
had begun from land and sea. The sound of can-
nonading, continual and deafening, came from the
water, while from the wo<xls the whir and whistle
of arrows proclaimed a more insidious attempt.

Vytal returned to the main entrance. It was al-
ready besieged. The coast-guard had been over-
whelmed. Despite their first stubborn stand, they
had gone down like corn-stalks before a hurricane.
There was no resisting the stampede. But the gate-
way, defended by Rouse and his unflinching .score,
still remained a barrier. Through innumerable
loop-holes the defenders had thrust their fire-arms;
and now rn incessant.voUey of lead poured out trom
behind the p rlisade like a torrent of hail driven side-
ways by the wind. Still more effective, however,
were the culverins on two high flankers that s'retched
out on both sides of the entrance. These cumbrous
weaixjns, incessantly vomiting huge missiles, .so
enfiladed the aggressors that a sortie was deemed
expedient.

Rouse let the gate swing back quickly, and Vytal,
leading a dozen men, sought, bj' the .sheer vigor and
unexpectedness of his attack, to press the enemy
back over the cliff which they had scaled. This
seemed his only chance. By so bold a move he in-
tended to convey the impression that large numbers
within the town only awaited a signal to reinforce
301

John Vytal

lilm. For, although Frazor, disguised as the bear,
had overheard Prafs observation concerning the
colony s weakness, there had been, Vytal believed
no possible means of communication between hini
and the Spaniards.

The one chance, then, seemed to lie in the exag-
geration of Roanoke's forces, by manauvres imply-
ing fearlessness and strength.

As Vytal surprised the foremost body of attack-
ers by his sudden sortie, the flanker culverins nece.v
sarily became silent, whiie the men at the palisade
loop-holes likewise ceased from firing

Now on the headland there was a general mdl6c
and to distmguish Engli.shmen from S,),'iniards was
impossible Only the lofty figure of Vytal, towering
above all the combatants, kept the anxious watchers
from despair Sable forms, spirits of the night, met
and fell while, above all, coruscant swords and pike-
blades flashed in the calm light of stars; and here
and there a face anguished or triumphant, being
lighted up by fitful cressets, seemed not a human
countenance, but only, as it were, an expression,
bodiless, the mere look of a ghost haunted by reality
Suddenly, a new glare, high and lurid, broke the
gloom. The tree- trunks of the western palisade
v^ere now themselves flambeaus, ignited by stealthy
Winginas, who, having overcome the outposts, had
gained the town.

With a loud cry, Hugh Rouse warned Vytal
whereat he captain fell back to the main entrance!
Quick I _ '^^ «,«>d to Rouse. "Give the signal to
Manteo, and Hugh started toward the western wall
In another in.stant the savage enemy would have
been surrounded by Manteo's men, according to the
preconceived arrangement, but Rouse was unex-
pectedly delayed.

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A Tale of the Lost Colony

From the small gateway which led to Vytal's cabin
a soldier rushed out to meet him with drawn sword.
Even in the faint starlight there was no mistaking
that scarred face, with its indrawn eye and yellow
teeth, as the lijjs parted in a smile. The man was
Sir Walter St. Magil.

Without a word they met, and their swords crossed,
to kill, immediately. But Rouse, taken by surprise,
found himself on the defensive, and, before he could
swing his heavy weapon effectually, the other's |M)iiit
pried into his sword-hilt, which, hieing wet and sli]>-
pery from the moisture of his fingers, slid from his
grasp, and fell with a thud beside him.

Nothing daunted, the giant closed in, unarmed,
upon his antagonist with .so impetuous a rush that
St. Magil could not thrust again before a huge [wir of
arms encircled him completely. His own arms, be-
numbed by the sudden pressure, hung lifeless, while
at one side his sword dangled uselessly.

Their faces touched, their chests, thighs, and legs
were locked together as though with iron bonds.
And St. Magil's breath came in short, quick gasps,
hot on the other's mouth. But at last, gradually,
the herculean arms closed tighter and yet tighter
about their prey, until suddenly Rouse, hearing a
low, cracking sound, knew that his adversary's arms
and perhaps a rib or two were broken.

Then, and then only, Hugh released his grasp,
and, leaving St. Magil groaning on the ground,
rushed away to give Manteo the signal for a counter-
attack.

That moment's delay, however, was fatal. For
even now a great cry went up from the fortress, and
a large force of Spaniards who had effected a land-
ing far to the south su.roundr'' it on every side.
They had come through the souuiem gate, by which
303

riSB^PHl

John Vytal

vSrnTa'""^ "«" '««' K°- '■' »«»"=h of herb, 1

The fort became hke a thing alive. From it. m.

part, a volley of musket-baL rl.ned orthe «^

fni^l ? ""*■' "*"'' °"' venomously, and in t
middle of every streak a ball

The defenders, u.ider Dyonis Uarvie, were offerin
a b ave resistance. The Spaniards hung b^crb
hmda natural brea.stwork of hillocks. ^

t„7l, f"",. ""'^ "^ ••"""" ■"«"• unnoticed, crept cla.
to the fort s rear and from one .side surveyed the mu:
zle of a cu verm mquisitively. The gun rlred an

tt^aT^r^^ll^H^^iLri^^
s^s^jn^^upf^mthei/corS'L^uuK

But the man who had first crept forward was no
content with ofjen onslaught

In a few minutes the entire rear wall of the fort wa.
enveloped m flames that curled up over the rmnlrts
and Simon Ferdinando, the incendiary wa™[n!

t^S=ry^- H---^S.ml:rd=
The fortress no longer belonged to England.
Frazer glanced about the me.ss-room with a quick

rr orhifowr '' r. •^^^ ^''^^ -t^ a -arse
rJK^/I ," ai'quebusiers, who, bridling their

nba Id tongues half mockingly as he entered, awaU

enng in one corner. Before them lay the last of thX

Dvont^H ''^'"''"^' "f*^'^-^^ - mortally tound^d
Dyonis Harvie prone in the foremost line, his w^e
on her knees bes.de him, imploring him to live
304

A Talc of the Lost Colony

As Prazer looked at the women he bowed to two,
about whom the others were gathered in desiwir.
" The king is come. Mistress Dure, accordinK as he
promised years ago. He claims his queen."

He turned to the soldiers. " Bear these two to the
hovel in which Vytal lived. Do with the others as
you will. The town is ours."

'Tf^^HPn^Sfa

li'i:

CHAPTER V

'Some powers divine, or else infernal, mixed
Their angry seeds at thy conception."

—Marlowe, in Tamburlaine.

It was not long before Frazer stood alone with
Eleanor and Virginia Dare in Vytal's secluded cabin
beyond the palisade, and about the cabin a Spanish
guard.

The small room was fitfully lighted by a cresset
that had been thrust into a chink in the log wall. Op-
posite the door stood Eleanor, with Virginia at her
side, while before her, just within the room, Frazer
leaned easily against the door-post, talking in low
tones. In the mother's eyes there was a calm de-
termination, in the daughter's as little fear, but no
resolve.

"Then you object," said Frazer, languidly, "to
being crowned a queen?"

She made no answer. He turned his headpiece
about in hand, pouting like a young boy.

"I should have preferred your heart's love," he
declared, plaintively, " but that, p«Tchance, will come
later." His manner, changing, became forceful.
" Oh, beheve me, the end hath come. We have played
several games, you and I, but this is final ; and now,
by God! I win! D' you hear— I win! England will
never send you aid. This 1 know from St. Magil,
w^ho hath lattly been there. Marlowe, the poet, ne'er
e'en saw her Majesty to tell her of your plight. His
306

^^5J^

JohnVytal: A Tale of the Lost Colony

end came far too soon. 'Twas defem ing llic .lan c
of that trull, Gyll Croyden, he died in a )r;, wl ut Dej ' .-
ford — these poets will be rakes to tir \ery unci "
1 le paused, then spoke slower, with renewed empii^' is :
" Vytal is surrounded at the main entrance. At a
single word from me our force, which now holds the
fortress, will go to increase the overwhelming num-
bers that hem him in. Whether or not 1 give that
word rests entirely with you. Your beloved Arianias
is no more. Come, my beauty, I will make you my
wife. There! What more can you desire? Oh,
you smile ironically; you think we know not the
colony's weakness. Did 1 not hear the jovial I^rat
])roclaim it on the house-tops to hi.s friend the ox ?
You think I did not convey the information to St.
Magil. Pah! 'twas an easy signal. Well 1 knew
that if I came off alive Vytal would range his men
before me and offer to hold me as an hostage for our
ship. The signal was prearranged. Had you out-
numbered us, 1 was to sink down as if in fear before
the musketeers ; but were you weaker, I was to stand
erect. I stood erect. They knew then, as they know-
now, the hopeless condition of your colony. Your
colony. Mistress Dare!" He let the words sink deep
into her heart. "Your colony — are you going to
cause their complete annihilation by refusing to ac-
cept my hand?"

He smiled, and added carelessly : " Then there is
John Vytal."

For a moment her eyes flashed, while she drew her-
self up proudly, but at his last words her chin sank
on her breast and a flood of tears blinded her.

Virginia grasped her hand, and, bending forward,
fazed up into her face i^erplexedly. " O my mother,
will you not save the colony and Captain Vytal?"

Frazer nodded to Virginia a])provingly. " I doubt
307

'■c^mcswOf^v.

: imi'-^'z- ;«wi-

John Vytal

it not," he said, "for your mother is by no means
heartless."

Eleanor raised her head and gazed at him so ex-
pressxonlessly that he started perceptibly; all life,
all beauty, all consciousness, mental, spiritual, and
physical, seemed suddenly to have left her face.

She went forward to hira like one walking to death
111 sleep, and the only words that seemed, as it were, to
drip and continually drip relentlessly on her brain
were these: "The end, the end!"

He sprang forward and covered her hand with
burning kisses. "Thou'rt mine, Eleanor— mine at
last."

But suddenly he paused, startled. A low rustle,
or trampling sound, as of innumerable bare feet
rushing across the town, had caught his ear. And
the voice of Hugh Rouse, far away, called loudly:
" Quick, Manteo, this way I Thank God, we may vet
save Vytal I"

On this Eleanor drew back with a cry of gladness,
and Frazer hesitated. A Spanish soldier appeared
at the door. " Shall we reinforce them?"

"Nay, keep your men around this cabin." He
turned to Eleanor, snapping his lingers carelessly.
"Foh! a fico for the battle! You see I value your
love higher even than our cause, and whether you
will or not, I shall force it from you." With this he
started eagerly toward her, arms outstretched and
eyes brilliant.

But Eleanor, quick as lightning, drew from her
bosom a small poniard and held its point to her breast.
"Another step," she said, calmly, "and I stab my-
self."

He paused, in genuine amazement. His supreme
self-love had never dreamed of this— that a woman
would rather kill herself than become his wife "1
308

v^ ?;? 'T'"^^^"Sfflai»»

A Tale of the Lost Colony

no longer need to save others," added Eleanor, tri-
umphantly; "it is myself 1 save."

For a moment he stood abashed, the very picture
of chagrin ; but then the light of a new impulse leaped
into his eyes.

"Ay, but there shall be another," he cried, "de-
manding your sacrifice," with which, Ix-fore she had
divined his intent, he gras[)ed Virginia in his arms
and carried her to the doorway. "She is almost as
beautiful," he sneered, "and much younger."

" Stay!" and Eleanor, swaying as if she mu.st fall,
cried out again in anguish, "Stay, 1 implore you^
stay I"

He turned, laughing. "Nay, Mistress Dare;
"first throw away thy poniard."

With a strenuous effort to stand erect, she obeyed,
and the weapon fell at her feet. Evidently satisfied,
he now released his hold on Virginia, and, swagger-
ing forward, with an air of bravado, put an arm about
Eleanor's waist, while the daughter, utterly dazed,
stood six;cchless, watching him.

" My dear love," he murmured, caressingly, " re1x;l
not against fate. We shall he very happy as king
and queen. " It seemed as if there were a tone of real
tenderness in his voice, while gently he led her to the
door. But her own voice was silent as the grave, and
again her whole being seemed hopelessly inert.

Before passing out he bent over her, and, with Ijoth
arms, crushed her to him in a tense embrace. Then
he started back and his face went |)ale as death.

A loud clash of steel, a roar of many voices, a whirl-
wind seemingly, and Vytal stood facing them in the
doorway.

Like a flash Frazer drew his rapier, but Ukj late.

The soldier, infuriated beyond control, thrust deep
and deep again.

309

I't i

John Vytal

Frazer fell.

Vytal turned to Eleanor. "Come away, quick,
by the rear entrance. Manteo and Rouse have over-
come his guard. "

The wounded man groaned pitifully. " 1 pray you
send me a priest," he pleaded. "There is yet time
for a short shrift. Your heretic parson will do an
there's none other."

"1 have no messenger at hand," said Vytal, "and
cannot go myself."

At this moment, however, a slight dusky figure
stood in the doorway, to which Frazer motioned feebly.
It was Dark Eye.
"Send him," said Eleanor, mercifully.
" Nay, for he must guard Frazer. "
'But the man is dying."

"Nevertheless," said Vytal, bitterly, "he is not
yet dead."

" Then let Dark Eye bind his arms, though it seems
cruel."

Vytal assented, and in a moment the captive lay
bound hand and foot with thongs of hide from the
Indian's girdle.

Virginia came to her .-nother. "I will go with
Dark Eye."

Eleanor rested a hand on her daughter's head, and
turned to Vytal. " Is it safe?"
"Yes, with him.''

Together Virginia Dare and Dark Eye left the
room, only hesitating for a moment beyond the
threshold to turn and wave farewell. " Have no
fear," said Manteo's son. "The Winginas are put
to flight ; the Spaniards have left the town. Later
we meet you on the shore." The cresset flared
high; its radiance fell across those two slight
figures side by side in the near darkness.
310

A Tale of the Lost Colony

The old world and the new had plighted troth,
and here were the symbols of an everlasting union.

In another instant the picture had vanished—
White Doe and Dark Eye were hidden in the forest.

" Now come," said Vytal to Eleanor, and together
they left the cabin. " We have won," he declared ;
"yet lost completely."

She glanced up at him with -"Knewed apprehension,
questioningly. In silence he led her to the shore.
"See," he said, and she looked up to the headland.
A sheet of flame sprang heavenward from the town.
"And look!" Two shadows were receding slowly
southward. "Those are the enemy's vessels."

" Then we are exiles once again. "

The soldier inclined his head. " Yes, exiles. Eng-
land will never know of our existence; history will
account us futile in all our endeavors, and inexplica-
bly lost." His voice .sank lower. " Five Enghsh-
men remain alive besides myself."

A cry escaped her lips. " 'Tis impossible!"

"Nay, 'tis true."

" But why, then, do the Spaniards beat a retreat?"

"Because Manteo's force, though fatally delayed
by Hugh's encounter with St. Magil, arrived in time
to surprise theni, and because Frazer kept his guard
apart from the main attack."

She rested her hands on his arms and came very
close to him. The glare of the burning town illu-
minated his face, showing e.n expression that even
she had never pictured. The stern tensity was re-
lieved, the despotic tyranny of his mouth, the im-
perial crown of deep-cut lines on his brow, the por-
tentous fire of his eyes — all had been subdued
beneath the touch of love. Drawing her closer, he
kissed her forehead reverently.

The darknes-s of night had lost its meaning. The
311

John Vytal

merciless fire was seen no more save as they found
it reflected in each other's eyes.
They were one.

Yet it was all so essentially natural that they ex-
perienced no surprise nor wonder in the realization
of their unity. It seemed but the end of a primordial
beginning, the reversion to their souls of a pre-natal
heritage, which but for a season had been withheld
that by sorrow and suffering its perfection might be
assured.

For long they stood in silence, their very beings
seeming to co-blend, each the other's complement,
both a perfect whole.

At last E! \.nor srwkc, and he felt her tremble with
the words. "Let us never again speak the name
'Frazer' even within ourselves."

" Nay, never," he said. " 1 thank God he hath gone
from out our lives."

But Vytal 's thanksgiving was premature.
Frazer lived. In the cabin on the cliff above them
he lived and moved. Slowly, and with great pam,
he c ontrived, by working his way on knees and el-
bows, to reach the wall, high up in which the torch
still sputtered fitfully. Then, although a stream
of red had marked his passage across the room, he
placed his bound hands between the logs and, with a
strenuous exertion, raised himself until he stood un-
steadily upon his feet. And now it was not only
the cresset's light that flashed in his blue eyes. A
look of victory surmounted the expression of pain,
as, stretching out his arms, he held the wrists im-
mediately over the torch's flame. The fire scorched
and blistered his while skin, burning deep and slow-
ly. At the last his teeth, gnashing in agony, met
through his undcriip, but still he allowed the flame
to work its will. For the thongs that bound him,
312

A Tale of the Lost Colony

being damp with blood and perspiration, had not
yet been severed.

Finally, however, burning like fuses, they parted
slowly and fell to the floor. Then, K'nding forward,
he unbound his ankles, stifling a moan as his
scorched fingers untied the knots. Suddenly he
was free; and, hastening as best he might to a life-
less Spanish soldier who had been killed in guarding
him, he was in a moment not only liberated, but
armed as well with a musket ready primed.

Having thus provided himself, he once more fell
to his hands and knees and crawled, like some dying
animal, into the forest. With a superhuman stoicism
and determination, he descended by the winding path
that led from V'ytal's cabin to the shore, while a cir-
cuitous trail of bl(X)d marked his progress.

At the wooded margin of the beach he paused and,
leaning against a tree, staggered to his feet.

Two figures st(X>d before him, distinctly visible in
the light of the consuming flames.

But, as he raised hif weapon, one of the figures
moved.

Vytal had heard a rustle of leaves, yet the warn-
ing sound came all too late.

A short tongue of fire flashed beneath the branches,
almost simultaneously a musket-shot rang out, and
Eleanor fell prostrate on the sand.

A cry like the death-note of a soul rose from Vytal,
and then the soldier's face, in the first instant ter-
ribly anguished, was transformed to the face of wrath
incarnate. His eyes were blue flames.

He rushed to the strip of woods, with sword quiver-
ing.

But Frazer lay dead, his face, lighted softly by
the stars, showing no malevolence in its smile, more
than ever boyish, guileless, and amused.
313

CHAPTER VI

*My heart is as an anvil unto sorrow,
Wliicli beats upon it like the Cyclops' hammers.
And with the noise turns up my giddy brain."

—Marlowe, in Edward the Second.

" Thus shall my heart be still combined with tliine
Until our bodies turn to elements
And both our souls aspire celestial thrones."

— Marlowe, in Taniburlaine.

Vytal turned automatically and, with his old,
martial tread, crossed the sand to Eleanor. At her
side he knelt for a moment transfixedly in silence,
then sank down upon her and grasped her to him as
if in an effort to revivify her lifeless form by the sheer
might of his love and grief.

But now a dark shadow, seemingly no more tan-
gible than the shadow of Death, emerged from the
forest and stood over them.

"My brother, grieve not; perchance life is yet
within her." The Indian bent down and listened.
"1 hear no breath," said Manteo, at last, "nor heart-
beat. Her kirtle is stained with blood."

"Ay," said Vytal, "she hath left me."

The Indian pointed westward. " Come, my brother,
let us bear her to my people. They have gone to the
main, and your countrymen with them. There, far
from the sea and evil ships, they will live in peace.
Thy Spanish enemies all have retreated before my
men. Come, my brother, the voice of the forest calls
314

John Vytal : A Tale of the Lost Colony

you. There is lo other way. Did not the stiirs at
thy birth foretell that thou .shnuldst be a (}ueeii's
defender and the brother of a king? A queen's de-
fender thou hast been; the brother of a kii.g I be-
seech thee to be always. Am I not that king of the
prophecy? Is not the depth of the forest, solitary
and ever dark, the fitting home for one in whose soul
all happiness lies buried? My brother, come!"

Vytal returned his gaze in silence, neither grant-
ing nor denying the earnest plea.

" John Vytal, j'ou number but six Englishmen in
all. To remain is to murder thyself, e'en though
thine enemies, Ferdinando and St. Magil, have re-
treated hastily in a canoe to the Spanish vessel. On
the mainland we shall be safe, if ix\tan thee we can de-
pend. The man of God and Margery Harvie, the
White Doe and Dyonis, all have started thither under
the guardianship of thy servant, Hugh Rouse, who
believed you wholly safe with my people. Thus,
with thee, there arc but three warriors in all. Shall
the greatest of these not go, as he hath always gone,
to the place where he is most needed?"

"Ay," said Vytal, vaguely; "that is liere. Let
us defend the town I"

But Manteo pointed to the palisade, across which
the first dim light of dawn was slowly breaking. A
gray mist or dust was rising from the enclosure and
floating softly out to sea. "Those are the ashes
of your Roanoke settlement," said Maateo, "which
the breeze would bury far away. The fortress lies
smouldering, and much of the jialisade as well. All
is lifeless."

Vytal watched the gray veil unwind itself across
the headland. This, then, was a Ptting symbol of
the climax in which all the fortitude, patience, en-
deavor, exertion, prayer, and yearning of years had
315

John Vytal

culminated. Ashes! All gray ashes — the hope of
England and of himself.

I'inally he turned to Manteo, with a deeper con-
sciousness, and stooped to raise Eleanor in his arms.
Hut the Indian, who had watched her face intently,
restrained him. " Wait, my brother, there is yet hoiK.-.
1 will instantly seek two herbs in the forest. "Pis
l)ossible the oi.e will heal her wound, the other awake
her from sleep, " and, so saj'in^, he entered the wfM)ds.

Once more Vytal knelt beside her, while slowly
the dismal drone of the surf seemed to creep nearer,
until, entering his brain, it wore all thouKlit away.
To reason was imjxjssible, to strive for rea.son a tort-
ure that racked him through and through.

Yet at last, ai)|K;aring to have fi >scd somewhat
from his stu)X)r, he drew his rapi;ji, and, i)assing
his fingers over the blade, muttered: "The bodkin,
the little bodkin!" with which — worse, far worse,
more terrible than any cry or moan — a laugh, a
loud, harsh laugh, came from the broken heart of
the man who had rarely Ix-en heard to laugh before.

He let the rapier-hilt fall softly to the sand, yet
held the point in one hand, and with it touched the
artery of his wrist. He was conscious now of one
thing only — utter failure! He felt certain that Elea-
nor, with all his hopes, had left him. It was but
the natural result of his life-long battle against Fate.

"I am alone," he said.

For many minutes the rapier-point, moving im-
perceptibly, scratched his skin. Yet he made no
thrust, for the horribly incongruous hilarity of his
expression gradually died away, leaving his face
once more grave and unrelaxing.

Suddenly he rose and stood as if on guard, not
against himself, but another. At this he called aloud,
as though Rouse stood near. " Quick, seek Manteo
316

A Tale of the Lost Colony

and the tribesmen! Bid Dyonis protect his charges
to the end. See to it that Frazer is shackled heavily.
We win!" His eyes flashed. "Send to nie Roger
Prat and Marlowe. They are men. Ho! Marlowe,
come, come quickly to my aid! Is 't |K)ssible thou
hast forgot that night on the bridge when side by
side we fought to save her?" I le paused, thrust into
the darkness, then reeled and let fall his blade. "O
my God— 1 dream." And, sinking down once agani
beside Eleanor, he looked first into her iiallid face,
and then at the shroud of ashes that was borne out
lightly to be folded with the veil of the sea. Both
mists, gray and commingling on the water, seemed
the cerements of his dead ambition. I'"or not only
the sea had failed him, but the land as well. And
this was his only message to England— an ei)heineral
breeze, ash-laden, from the West he had come to win.

The cries of many birds, awakening, filled the air.
The stars, paling slowly, died. The breeze stirred
summer's heavj' foliage mournfully.

Vytal shut the light from his eyes, and from his
ears the sounds of morning. With head bowed he
then relived his life. And the moments when he had
been with Eleanor rose pre-eminent above all other
memories. He thought of the court, of how by his
glance toward her he had been deprived of knight-
hood. He recalled vividly the fight on London
Bridge, and once more saw her standing in the
Southwark gateway. He remembered their meet-
ing on the fly-boat, and first saw her praying in the
lanthom-light, then leaning on the bulwark, when
they two had been alone in a worid of mystery. At
the last she was bending over him as he lay in the
armory after the battle of the ships. Once again
her voice was calling, " John Vytal."
J17

:>^W

John Vytal

The rqietition of that fur-off tone seemed a living
ech" frinii his heart.

"John Vytal."

Me moved .slightly, and, a.s if in a waking sleep,
liH>ked down at Eleanor; then started, and, bending
elo.ser, strove for an answer to the dream.

In very truth her eyes were ojien.

"Eleanor."

"Yes, 1 live."

His hand swept across his forehead. "O God,
'tis a dream — again a dream."

Yet now another hand touched his brow, and, where
sight had failed, that single touch convinced him.

"1 am not alone," he .said.

She grasi)ed his hand feebly. " Nay, not alone.
1 think 'twas a trance All the grief, the sudden
hapi)iness, the terror, the joy, o'ercame me. Yet —
yet — 1 am .sore wounded." Her eyes closed; she
breathed with an effort. " Whence came the shot?"

" From Frazer, even as he died."

An expression, first of pain, then of absolute peace,
crossed her face; but she made no rejoinder, for
strength again had failed.

He brushed back a strand of hair from her fore-
head, stifling a deep moan. For once his very soul
seemed falling to an abyss of fear. Fatalism was
overcome by yearning, the power of endurance by
the acute agony of doubt. Uncertainty laid an icy
chill upon his spirit— the spirit of a child lost in the
universe. Essential grief stood face to face with
essential joy, each expecting, yet despairing of the
victory. And the result of this meeting seemed to
ravage the elements of being.

Once more Eleanor gazed up to his anguished face.

"Strength returns," she said, with a wan smile.

He trembled and turned toward the forest, con-
3i8

A Tale of the Lost Colony

Slimed by imimticnce of the soul. " Mantoo Ivith
none for hualins herbs," he said. O (iod, sjiare
her to me I"

Long he stiKxl with head bowed and eyes (taring
into her face ; loiiK he .stiMxl, a bleak rock of the .shore,
stern, rigid, fixe<l, striving to force u|K)n hiiii.self the
utter calm of self-surrender mid finalily.

Hut at the last she stretched out her arms and drew
him closer to her. "CchI is k'xkI. ' .she said. "In
my heart he tells me 1 shall live."

Yet even now, as the spirit of promi.se seemed to
be breathc-d into their souls, ICleanor, reading N'ytid's
face, realized that lieneath all his silent hoiie that
word "failure" had not been obliterated fmin his
great masculine heart. For the colony of Uoanoke
was no more.

" Dost not see," she asked, brokenly, " that success
is ours? ... Of a surety, never again will Span-
iards seek to land on this Virginia shore. " Her words
were scarcely audible. " Their leader is dead, their
lesson learned. . . . Future generations will find
here a perfect security . . . because we, the first,
have suffered . . . and yet won." She raised her-
self to one elbow, bravely subduing her faintness,
and pointed toward the headland. " Look. "

The two mists — the mist of ashes and of the ocean
— were gray no longer. The first flush of morning
suffused itself over sea and land.

Eleanor's eyes sought Vytal's, but now from the
light he turned and looked steadfastly at the broad,
deep forest of the west, with prophetic resignation in
his gaze, as at a world not wholly lost, yet only by
others to be won.

Her hand touched his gently.

" 1 am not alone," he said ; " nay, not alone."

THE END