Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Settlers, A Tale of Virginia, by William H G Kingston.

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A book of moderate length, six and a half hours to read aloud, in which
we meet several persons well known to our history books, such as the
Indian Princess, Pocahontas.  Lots of activity.  Dated in Jacobean
times.

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THE SETTLERS, A TALE OF VIRGINIA, BY WILLIAM H G KINGSTON.



CHAPTER ONE.

The abode of Captain Amyas Layton overlooked the whole of Plymouth
Sound.  It stood on the eastern side near its northern end, on the
wood-covered heights which rise above that magnificent estuary.  From
the windows could be seen the town of Plymouth, with its inner harbour,
on which floated many a stout bark of varied rig and size; some engaged
in the coasting trade, others just arrived from foreign voyages, and
others destined to carry the flag of England to far-off lands.  In front
of the house had been set up a tall flagstaff, which the captain was
wont on high days and holidays to deck with gay banners, or at other
times to employ in making signals to vessels in the Sound.  The grounds
were surrounded by a moat with a drawbridge, above which was a gateway
adorned with curiously carved images once serving as the figure-heads of
two Spanish galleys.  The house itself, constructed chiefly of a
framework of massive timber, filled in with stone or brick, had no
pretensions to architectural beauty, albeit its wide, projecting eaves,
its large chimneys, and latticed windows, with its neat, well-kept
garden full of gay flowers, gave it a picturesque and quaint appearance.
Above the low wall on the inner side of the moat, was planted a battery
of brass cannon, elaborately ornamented, and evidently also taken from
the Spaniards; though they were placed there as trophies of victories
won rather than for use.  In truth, the old seaman's dwelling, full as
it was of many other warlike engines, had no pretensions to the
character of a fortress; it had been his fancy to gather within its
walls the spoils of many a hard-fought fight to remind him of days gone
by, especially when he had sailed out of Plymouth Sound in his stout
bark in company with the gallant Lord Howard, Drake, Frobisher, Hawkins,
and other brave seamen whose names are known to fame, to make fierce
onslaught on the vaunting Spaniards, as their proud Armada swept up the
Channel.  The porch at the front entrance was adorned with Spanish
handiwork--a portion of the stern-gallery of the huge _Saint Nicholas_;
while at each corner of the building were fixed other parts of that
mighty galleon, or of some other ship of the many which had been, by
God's good providence, delivered into the hands of those whom the
haughty Spaniards came vainly threatening to enslave.

The house contained a good-sized dining-hall.  At one end was a broad
fireplace, and mantelpiece supported by richly carved figures, also
taken from the stern-gallery of a Spanish bark.  Above it appeared the
model of the _Golden Lion_, the captain's own ship.  The walls were
adorned with breastplates and morions, swords and matchlocks, huge
pistols, with other weapons of curious form, and three banners captured
from the foe, regarded by the captain as the chiefest of his trophies.
Here, too, were also bows and arrows, spears and clubs, and various
implements, remembrances of the last voyage he had made to America.

The captain was walking to and fro in the shade.  In his hand was a long
pipe with a huge bowl, from which he ever and anon sucked up a mouthful
of smoke, which, as he again puffed it out, rose in light wreaths above
his head.  Sometimes, as he sent them forth slowly, now from one side of
his mouth, now from the other, as a ship fires her broadsides at her
foes, he would stop and gaze at the vanishing vapour, his thoughts
apparently wandering to distant times and regions far away, now taking a
glance down the Sound to watch for any tall ship which might be coming
up from the westward, now looking along the road.

His countenance, though that of a man still hale and hearty, showed
signs of many a hard fight with human foes and fierce storms, as far as
it could be distinguished amid the curling locks which hung down from
beneath the low-crowned hat adorned by a single feather, and the bushy
beard and long mustachios still but slightly grizzled.  His doublet and
cloak were richly embroidered, though the gold lace was somewhat
tarnished; his breeches, fastened at the knee, were of ample
proportions, while boots of buskin form encased his feet.  A man of war
from his youth, though enjoying his ease, he even now wore girded to his
side his trusty sword without which he was never known to stir outside
his door.

At length he stopped; as his eye glanced along the road leading from
Plymouth.  "Marry, who can those be coming up the hill?" he said to
himself.  "They seem to be making for this--a well-grown youth and a
youngster--by their habits and appearance they are I judge of gentle
birth."  As he spoke, the captain advanced towards the gateway to give
the young strangers a welcome, should it be their purpose to pay him a
visit.  The elder was of a tall and graceful figure, with delicate
features, a slight moustache appearing on his lip; his habit, that of a
gallant of the day, though modest and free from extravagance.

The younger was of a stronger build; his countenance exhibiting a bold
and daring spirit, full of life and animation, and not wanting in
good-humour.

"Whom seek you, young sirs?" asked the old seaman, as the youths drew
near.

"One Captain Amyas Layton, an please you, sir," answered the elder of
the two.  "We were told in Plymouth town, where we arrived last night on
horseback from Dartmouth, that we should find his residence in this
direction; and if I mistake not, we stand even now before him."

"You are right in your conjectures, young sirs," answered Captain
Layton; "I am the man you seek, and whoever you are and whatever your
object, believing it to be an honest one, I give you greeting.  Enter,
for after your walk this warm summer's day you need rest and
refreshment; the first you may take at once--the second you shall have
as soon as my daughter Cicely returns from Plymouth, whither she has
gone a-marketing, with our servant Barnaby, on our old nag Sampson,
which I called after a Spanish carvel I sank out yonder--but of that
anon.  Come in."

The captain, without waiting to make further inquiries of the strangers,
led the way into the hall, where he bade them take their seats in two
carved oak chairs on either side of the fireplace--albeit the warmth of
the day permitted not a fire to be burning there.  The young men,
removing their beavers, obeyed him.

"Though more substantial fare be wanting, I can serve you with a stoup
of Canary, young sirs; and your walk, judging by my own taste, will
render such acceptable," said the captain.  Assuring him that they were
in no way fatigued, they declined the wine on the plea of the early
hour, and their not having been in the habit of drinking aught except a
glass of ale at dinner or supper.

"A prudent custom for those not advanced in life," he observed; "and
now, young sirs, to what cause am I indebted for this visit?"

"We have a long story to narrate, kind sir," answered the elder youth,
"and we would first, tell you our names, and whence we come; which, in
your hospitable kindness, you have not yet inquired.  We are the sons of
your old shipmate Captain Vaughan Audley, who, it has been supposed for
the last ten years or more, perished among those who formed the first
settlement in Virginia, planted by the brave Sir Walter Raleigh.  For
that long period our dear mother, notwithstanding the reports which
reached her, has never altogether abandoned the hope that he might be
alive; and though compelled to assume widow's weeds, she has remained
faithful to his memory and refused again to wed."

"A true wife and honest woman, such as I delight to honour," observed
the captain; "but alack!  I received too certain news of my old
comrade's death to make me doubt that he had passed away to that better
land where we all hope to meet."

"Truly, our mother, notwithstanding her expressions to the contrary, had
begun to believe the same," answered the young man; "when about ten days
gone by, there came to the gate of our house near Dartmouth, where we
have lived since our father's departure, a seaman somewhat advanced in
life, whose pallid face spoke of sickness, and his tattered garments of
poverty long suffered.  His name, he told us, was Richard Batten.  He
had wandered, he said, over all parts of the known globe; but though his
pockets had been often filled with Spanish gold, they had again been
quickly emptied through his own folly, and the greed of pretended
friends; gambling, drinking, and other similar pursuits being his bane.
He now begged a crust and a draught of beer, or even of water, with
leave to lie down in an outhouse that he might rest his weary limbs.  We
listened to his sad tale, and being sure that he spoke the truth,
invited him into the house and placed before him a hearty meal, to
which, however, he seemed scarcely able to do justice, so far gone was
he with sickness.  Still the little he ate revived him, and he talked on
with my brother Gilbert here--a ready listener.  At first he spoke only
of voyages made long ago, but at length he told him of one he had lately
performed across the Atlantic in a ship to obtain sassafras, and trade
with the natives of Virginia.  The name immediately aroused Gilbert's
attention, who called me to listen to what the seaman was saying.  He
had sailed in April from Milford Haven, on board the _Speedwell_,
Captain Martin Pring, a ship of about fifty tons, the year after our
present King James came to the throne, and in company with her went the
_Discoverer_, bark of the same size, commanded by Captain Brown.  They
were victualled for eight months, and laden with all sorts of apparel,
gewgaws and baubles proper to trade with the inhabitants of the country
whither they were going.  Arriving off the coast of Virginia in June,
they entered a great gulf, where they found people on both sides, with
whom they had much intercourse.  Here they were engaged in loading their
bark with sassafras, much to their satisfaction.

"Batten, however, while searching for sassafras, having wandered away
from his companions, thinking to return, got yet farther from them, and
at length, overcome with fatigue, fell asleep.  On awaking he found that
it was night.  When daylight returned, clouds covered the sky, and,
still thinking to get back to the ship, he went on all day, but again
failed to see the great river in which she rode.

"Having his gun and ammunition, he was able to shoot some birds and
animals, and with the fruits he found growing on the trees he sustained
life.  Thus for three days more he wandered up and down, till he at
length reached the river; when to his dismay, he could nowhere see the
ship.  Having no doubt that she had sailed, he now set off along the
shore, hoping to overtake her in case she had brought up at any other
place.  He was pushing on bravely, when he saw before him a large party
of Indians; to fight with them was useless--he held out his hand, which
the chief took, and showed by signs that he would be his friend.  He
tried to inquire for the ship, but the Indians made him understand that
she had gone away and that it was best for him to remain with them.  He
thought so likewise, and agreed to live with them, and to hunt and fish
as they did.

"After some time they set off up the country, where larger game was to
be found.  Having husbanded his powder, as long as that lasted he was
able to shoot several deer; but when that was gone, and he could no
longer help the Indians, they treated him with less kindness than at
first.  This made him resolve to try and escape; he had got some
distance from their camp, when he encountered another party of Indians,
of a different tribe to those with whom he had been living.  They
carried him off a long way through the woods, till they reached their
camp, when he was taken before their chief.  A council was held, as he
supposed, to decide whether he was to live or to be put to death.  He
was fully expecting to die, when a person whom he had not before seen
appeared, and addressed him.  On looking up at the stranger's face,
greatly to his surprise he saw that he was a white man.  Batten inquired
whom he was.

"`A heart-broken exile--one who can feel for you,' was the answer; `but
fear not for your life--for that I will plead, as I have interest with
the chief, though for years I have been kept a prisoner without hope of
escape.'

"Who think you, Captain Layton, was the stranger who now spoke to
Batten?  He was no other than our father, Captain Vaughan Audley, who
sailed with Sir Richard Grenville, Mr Dane, and Mr Cavendish on board
the _Roebuck_ with many other ships in company.  When Sir Richard
returned to England, our father had remained with upwards of a hundred
men with Governor Dane at Roanoke, where they fixed their abode and
built a fort.  The Indians, who had hitherto been friendly, formed,
however, a league against them.  They were expecting assistance from
England, when one night the fort was stormed; most of the people were
put to the sword, but the life of our father was preserved by a chief
whom he had befriended when, on a former occasion, that chief had fallen
into the hands of the English.  The chief, carrying him to his canoe,
concealed him from his companions and conveyed him far away up the
river.  Here landing, he concealed him in his own wigwam, where he was
cured of his hurts; but our father had not from that time seen a white
face till he met with Batten.

"Batten's life, as our father promised, was saved; though the Indians
showed otherwise but little regard for him, and this made him wish to
escape should he have the opportunity.  He told his purpose to our
father, and promised, should he succeed, to carry home the intelligence
to his friends of his being alive.  Some time afterwards, Batten said,
he managed to escape from the Indians, when he made his way towards the
seashore.  Lying hid in a thick bush for fear of being discovered by the
natives, he one day caught sight of a party of Englishmen advancing at
no great distance off.  Delighted at the thoughts of meeting his
countrymen, he was about to rush out of his place of concealment, when
he saw a large body of Indians coming towards them.  He waited to see
the result, when to his horror the Indians drew their bows, and before
the strangers were aware of their danger, every man among them was
pierced by an arrow.  Some fell dead; others drew their swords; but with
terrific war-whoops the Indians, setting on them, killed the whole with
their tomahawks.

"Batten gave up all hopes of saving his life, but, wishing to put off
the fatal moment, he remained concealed till near nightfall, when the
Indians cutting off the scalps of the slain, went away inland, singing a
song of triumph.  He now stole out of his hiding-place, and ran on all
night, intending to build a raft and make his way along the coast, when
just at day-break, as he reached the shore, great was his joy to
discover an English boat with two men in her.  He rushed towards them,
and gave an account of the way he had seen the Englishmen murdered.  No
sooner did they hear this than they shoved off from the shore and pulled
with all their might down the river.  For several days they continued
toiling, till they reached their bark, the _Sally Rose_ which lay some
way down towards its mouth; but the master, on hearing that the pilot
and all the officers had been killed, forthwith weighed anchor, and,
setting sail, stood for England.  The _Sally Rose_ sprang a leak, and
scarcely could she be kept afloat till, coming up Channel, they entered
the port of Dartmouth.  Here landing, Batten was making his way without
a groat in his pocket to London, when Providence directed him to our
door.

"On hearing this strange narrative, I sent Gilbert to fetch our mother
and sister Lettice, who listened to it with breathless interest; and
getting such answers as we could from the seaman to the questions put to
him, we were all convinced that he had given us a faithful account, and
that our father was really alive.  We now earnestly consulted with him
what to do; not forgetting to seek for guidance from on high as to the
best means for recovering our father.  Gilbert was for setting out
forthwith, taking Batten as his companion, and getting on board the
first ship sailing for America; but even had our mother agreed to
Gilbert's proposal, it was impracticable, as the old sailor was becoming
worse and worse.  We sent for the apothecary, and did all we could to
restore his waning strength; but all was in vain, and before the next
day was over he had breathed his last.

"We were now much troubled, for the means on which we had depended for
discovering our father had thus been lost.  We had no one with whom to
consult; we talked and talked, but could come to no conclusion.  `We
will pray to God for guidance,' said our mother, `we will now, my
children, go to rest; and to-morrow morning we will meet, with the hope
that light will be afforded us to direct our course.'

"Her first words the following morning when she entered the parlour
were: `Praise be to God--he has not left me any longer in doubt what to
do--I have bethought me of Captain Amyas Layton, who resides not far
from Plymouth.  He and your father have often been shipmates, and he is
among the oldest of his friends, and will give you sound advice on the
subject.  I would wish you to set out forthwith for Plymouth, and to
place the whole matter before him.  Tell him that I will expend all my
means towards fitting out a ship to send to Virginia with trustworthy
persons to search for your father.  It may be, though, for the love
Captain Layton bore him, that he will afford further means if necessary
for the purpose.'"

"That will I right gladly," exclaimed the captain, starting up, and
taking three or four paces between the chairs in which the young
brothers were sitting--first looking at one and then at the other; "you
two are Audleys--I recognise your father's features in both your
countenances.  There are few men whose memory I hold in greater love or
esteem, and I will not say that to recover him I would hazard half my
fortune, for the whole of it I would gladly give to bring him back, and
old as I am, will sail forth myself in command of a ship to Virginia
should a younger man of sufficient experience be wanting.  You, young
sir, I perceive by your dress and looks, have not been to sea; or you
would be the proper person to sail in search of the missing one."

"No, sir," answered Vaughan, "but I have been for some time a student at
Cambridge, where I have diligently studied mathematics, and being well
acquainted with the mode by which ships are navigated, although I am
ignorant of the duties of a seaman, I might, with the aid of a sailing
master, be able without difficulty to reach the country of which Batten
told us.  Gilbert has already made two voyages to the Thames, and one as
far as the Firth of Forth, so that he is not altogether ignorant of sea
affairs, and lacks not willingness for the purpose."

"So I should judge," observed the captain, casting an approving look at
Gilbert; "I like your spirit, young man; and you may trust to me that I
will do all I can to forward your views.  Had my son Roger been at home,
the matter might quickly have been arranged; but he has long been gone
on a voyage to the East Indies with Sir Edward Michaelbourn, on board
the _Tiger_, a stout ship, in which Captain John Davis sailed as pilot.
There went also a pinnace named the _Tiger's Whelp_.  I would the good
ship were back again, for Roger is my only son, and his sister Cicely
begins to fret about him."

"Gladly would I serve under your son, should he before long return and
be willing to sail for Virginia," replied Vaughan.

"Would you be as willing to serve under me, young sir?" asked the
captain, glancing from under his shaggy eyebrows at Vaughan; "for
verily, should not Roger soon come back, I should be greatly inclined to
fit out a stout ship, and take Cicely on board and all my household
goods, and to settle down in the New World.  Cicely has her brother's
spirit, and will be well pleased to engage in such a venture; as I will
promise her to leave directions for Roger to join us should he return
after we have sailed."

"I could desire nothing better, Captain Layton," answered the young man;
"our mother will indeed rejoice to hear that you have been so ready to
comply with her request.  What you propose far surpasses her
expectations."

Captain Amyas Layton had been a man of action all his life, and age had
not quenched his ardour.  While pacing up and down, his thoughts were
rapidly at work; every now and then he addressed his young guests,
evidently turning over in his mind the various plans which suggested
themselves.

"My old shipmate Captain George Weymouth is now in England," he said, "I
will write to learn his opinion.  I have another friend, Captain
Bartholomew Gosnell.  I know not if he has again sailed since his last
voyage to America; if not, I will find him out.  He will, to a
certainty, have useful information to give us."

Thus the captain ran over the names of various brave commanders, who had
at different times visited the shores of North America.  He counted much
also, he said, on Captain John Davis, who had sailed along those coasts;
though he had gained his chief renown in the northern seas, amid the
ice-mountains which float there throughout the year--his name having
been given to those straits through which he passed into that region of
cold.  Vaughan and Gilbert had been listening attentively to all he
said, desiring to report the same to their mother and Lettice, when the
sound of a horse's hoofs were heard in the paved yard by the side of the
house.

"Here comes Cicely with Barnaby, and we shall ere long have dinner, for
which I doubt not, my young friends, you will be ready," observed the
captain.

Gilbert acknowledged that his appetite was becoming somewhat keen; but
Vaughan made no remark.  He was of an age to watch with some interest
for the appearance of Mistress Cicely Layton, though of her existence he
had not heard till her father mentioned her.

He had not long to wait before a side-door opened, and a young damsel
with straw hat on head and riding-habit fitting closely to a graceful
form, entered the hall.  She turned a surprised glance at the strangers,
and then gave an inquiring one at her father, who forthwith made known
their guests to her as the sons of an old friend; on which she put forth
her hand and frankly welcomed them.  The colour of her cheek heightened
slightly as Vaughan, with the accustomed gallantry of the day, pressed
her hand to his lips, and especially as his eyes met hers with a glance
of admiration in them which her beauty had inspired.  Truly, Cicely
Layton was a maiden formed in nature's most perfect mould--at least, so
thought Vaughan Audley.  Gilbert also considered her a very sweet girl,
though not equal in all respects to his sister Lettice, who was fairer
and somewhat taller and more graceful; but then Gilbert always declared
that Lettice was perfection itself.

Having delivered certain messages she had brought from Plymouth for her
father, Cicely addressed a few remarks to the young gentlemen; then,
saying that she must go to prepare for serving up the dinner, which, as
it was near noon, ought soon to be on the table, she dropped a courtesy
and left the room.  Each time the door opened, Vaughan turned his eyes
in that direction, expecting to see Mistress Cicely enter; but first
came a waiting-maid to spread a damask table-cloth of snowy whiteness,
and then came Barnaby Toplight with knives and forks; then Becky came
back with plates.  "This must be she," thought Vaughan; but no--it was
Barnaby again with a huge covered dish, followed by Becky with other
viands.

At length the door again opened, and Mistress Cicely tripped in, her
riding-dress laid aside.  She was habited in silken attire, her rich
tresses falling back from her fair brow, her neck surrounded by a lace
ruff of wondrous whiteness.  The captain having said grace, desired his
guests to fall to on the viands placed before them; though Vaughan
seemed often to forget to eat, while conversing with Mistress Cicely;
Gilbert meantime finding ample subject for conversation with her father.

Dinner occupied no great length of time, though the captain insisted on
his friends sitting with him to share a bottle of Canary, which he
ordered Barnaby to bring from the cellar, that they might drink success
to their proposed voyage to Virginia.  The young men then rose, offering
to return to Plymouth, but their host would on no account hear of it,
declaring that they must remain till he could see certain friends in
Plymouth with whom he desired to consult about their projected voyage.
They without hesitation accepted his proffered hospitality; possibly the
satisfaction the elder felt in Mistress Cicely's company might have
assisted in deciding him to remain, instead of returning home.  Indeed,
he considered it would be better to wait, that he might carry some
certain information to his mother as to the progress made in the matter.

In the evening Mistress Cicely invited him to stroll forth into the
neighbouring woods, beneath whose shade the sea-breeze which rippled the
surface of the Sound might be fully enjoyed.  Their conversation need
not be repeated; for Cicely talked much of her gallant brother, and was
sure that Master Audley would be well pleased to make his acquaintance
when he should return from the East Indies.  "Though, alack!  I know not
when that will be," she added, with a sigh.

The captain and Gilbert followed, talking on various interesting
subjects.  The captain was highly pleased with Gilbert, who reminded him
greatly of his father.

"I knew him when he was no older than you are," observed the former.  "A
right gallant youth he was.  Already he had been in two or more battles,
and had made two voyages to the Spanish main.  He married young, and I
thought would have given up the ocean; but, like many others, was
tempted to go forth in search of fortune, intending, I believe, that
your mother should follow when he had founded a home for her in the
Western World."

"I have heard my mother say, sir," said Gilbert, "that my father was but
twenty-five when he sailed for Virginia, leaving me an infant, and my
brother and sister still small children; so that even my brother has no
recollection of his appearance."

The captain had led Gilbert to a knoll, a favourite resort, whence he
could gaze over the Sound far away across its southern entrance.  He
pulled out his pipe and tobacco-pouch from his capacious pocket, and
began, as was his wont, to smoke right lustily, giving utterance with
deliberation, at intervals, as becomes a man thus employed, to various
remarks touching the matter in hand.  He soon found that Gilbert, young
as he was, possessed a fair amount of nautical knowledge, and was not
ignorant of the higher branch of navigation, which he had studied while
at home, with the assistance of his brother Vaughan.

"You will make a brave seaman, my lad, if Heaven wills that your life is
preserved," observed Captain Layton; "all you want is experience, and on
the ocean alone can you obtain that."

"Had it not been for the unwillingness of my mother to part with me, I
should have gone ere this on a long voyage," answered Gilbert.  "It was
not without difficulty that she would consent to my making the short
trips of which I have told you; though now that I have a sacred duty to
perform, she will allow me to go.  As we were unable to obtain the exact
position of the region where Batten met our father, we must expect to
encounter no small amount of difficulty and labour before we discover
him."

"We must search for the crew of the vessel in which Batten returned, for
they may be able to give us the information we require," observed the
captain; and he further explained how he proposed setting about making
the search.

While he had been speaking, Gilbert's eye had been turned towards the
south-west.  "Look there, sir!" he exclaimed, suddenly; "I have been for
some time watching a ship running in for the Sound, and I lately caught
sight of a smaller one following her."

"I see them, my lad; they are standing boldly on, as if they well knew
the port," said the captain.  "I fear lest my hopes may mock me, but
this is about the time I have been expecting my son, who sailed with
John Davis for India, to return, unless any unexpected accident should
have delayed them.  Those two ships are, as far as I can judge at this
distance, the size of the _Tiger_ and the _Tiger's Whelp_."

Still the captain sat on, yet doubting whether he was right.  The ships
rapidly approached, for the wind was fresh and fair.  Now they came
gliding up the Sound, the larger leading some way ahead of the smaller.
The captain, as he watched them, gave expression to his hopes and
doubts.

"See! see! sir," exclaimed Gilbert, whose eyes were unusually sharp;
"there is a flag at the mainmast-head of the tall ship.  On it I discern
the figure of a tiger, and if I mistake not, the smaller bears one of
the same description."

"Then there can be no doubt about the matter," exclaimed Captain Layton.
"We will at once return home.  Go find your brother and my daughter;
tell them the news, and bid them forthwith join us."

While the captain walked on to the house, Gilbert went, as he was
directed, in search of Vaughan and Cicely.  They, too, had been seated
on a bank some way further on, watching the ships, but neither had
suspected what they were.  Indeed, so absorbed were they in their own
conversation, that they had not even observed Gilbert's approach.
Cicely started when she heard his voice, and on receiving the
intelligence he brought, rose quickly, and, accompanied by the brothers,
hastened homewards.

"The news seems almost too good to be true; but, alack!" she added, with
a sigh, as if the thought had just struck her, "suppose he is not on
board--what a blow will it be to my poor father!  Roger is his only son;
and he has ever looked forward with pride to the thought of his becoming
a great navigator like Sir Francis Drake or Sir Thomas Cavendish."

Vaughan endeavoured to reassure her.

"My fears are foolish and wrong," said Cicely; "but if you knew how we
love him, and how worthy he is of our love, you would understand my
anxious fears as to his safety."

"I can understand them, and sympathise with you fully," said Vaughan.
His reply seemed to please her.

On reaching the house, they found that the captain had already gone down
to the beach, where his boat lay; and, his anxiety not allowing him to
wait for the young men, he had rowed off to the headmost ship, which had
now come to an anchor, the crew being busily engaged in furling sails.
Poor Cicely had thus a still longer time to wait till her anxiety was
relieved, or till she might learn the worst.  She insisted on going down
to the beach, to which Vaughan and Gilbert accompanied her.  At length
the captain's skiff was seen to leave the side of the ship.  He had gone
by himself, but now they discovered, when the skiff got nearer the
shore, another person, who stood up and waved a handkerchief.  Cicely
clasped her hands, then cried out with joy, "It is Roger! it is Roger!"
and presently, the boat reaching the shore, Roger leaped out, and his
sister was clasped in his arms.

Releasing herself, she introduced him to Vaughan and Gilbert, of whom he
had already heard from his father, as well as the object of their visit.
"And so, young sirs, you have work cut out for me, I understand, and
intend not to let the grass grow under my feet," he exclaimed, in a
hearty tone.  "All I can say is that I am ready to follow my father's
wishes in the matter."

"I am truly thankful to you, sir," replied Vaughan, as he and Roger
shook hands; and looking in each other's faces, they both thought, "we
shall be friends."  Vaughan admired Roger's bold and manly countenance,
possessing, as it did, a frank and amiable expression; his well-knit
frame showing him to be the possessor of great strength; while Roger
thought Vaughan a noble young fellow, of gentle breeding.

The young men having assisted in securing the skiff, the party returned
to the house, where Roger gave them a brief account of his voyage, for
the captain was eager to know how it had fared with him.

They had, however, matter of more pressing importance to talk about, and
before they retired to rest that night, their plans for the future had
been discussed, and some which were afterwards carried out had been
determined on.



CHAPTER TWO.

Vaughan and Gilbert consented to remain with their friends another day,
on condition that Roger Layton would accompany them to their home, in
order to explain more fully than they could do the plans he and his
father proposed.  In truth, Vaughan was not sorry for the opportunity
afforded him of enjoying more of Cicely's society, and he knew Mistress
Audley did not expect their speedy return.  Roger undertook afterwards
to proceed to London to search for the _Sally Rose_, a bark of fifty
tons, in which Batten had returned home, and which Vaughan had learnt
had gone round to the Thames.

The more Captain Layton talked over the matter, the more his ancient
ardour revived.  "Cicely, girl, wilt thou go with me?" he exclaimed.  "I
cannot leave thee behind; and yet I should fret if these young gallants
were away searching for my brave friend and I were to remain on shore,
like a weather-beaten old hulk, unfit for further service."

"Where you go, I will go, my father, as you wish it," answered Cicely;
"whether in Old England, or in New England across the ocean, there, if
you make your home, will I gladly abide with you."

"Well said, girl, well said," exclaimed the captain; "come, let me give
thee a buss for thy dutiful love--but I will not force thy
inclinations."

The next day the captain, mounted on his horse Sampson, set off for
Plymouth, the distance being too great for him to walk, in order to call
on some of his seafaring acquaintances, and to make inquiries regarding
vessels in the port of Plymouth and elsewhere, fit for a voyage to
America.  Roger and Gilbert accompanied him on foot, but Master Vaughan
pleaded that, as he knew naught of naval affairs, he could be of no
service, and would prefer remaining to study the captain's sea journals
and some books on navigation, with the prospect of afterwards taking a
stroll with Mistress Cicely when she should have completed her household
duties for the day.

"As you like it," said the captain; "Cicely will bring you the books,
and pens and paper, should you wish to take notes of what you read."

Cicely thought Vaughan's plan a very proper one, and it is possible that
she hastened through her household duties with even more than her usual
alacrity, active as she always was.

The captain, with his son and Gilbert, called on several persons,
including among them some shipbuilders and shipowners, from one of whom
they learnt that the _Rainbow_, a stout bark of a hundred tons burthen,
lay in the harbour, having a short time before returned from the only
voyage she had made to the Levant, her timbers and plankings sound, her
tacklings and sails in perfect order; moreover that, in two weeks or so,
she might be got ready for sea.  On going onboard, the captain and his
son were well pleased with the _Rainbow's_ appearance, though of opinion
that her tackling and sails required renewing, and that the necessary
repairs would take longer than her owner had stated.  The captain, as
has been said, was a man of action; having satisfied himself as to the
fitness of the vessel, on returning on shore he concluded the purchase,
with such deductions as were considered just by her owner, Master
Holdfast, who, knowing him to be a man of substance as well as a man of
honour, was content to abide his time with regard to payment.

The next day found Vaughan and Gilbert, accompanied by Roger Layton, on
their way to the neighbourhood of Dartmouth.  Lettice, who had been
anxiously waiting for their return, seeing them come over the hill in
the distance, hastened down to the gate to receive them.  After
bestowing on her an affectionate embrace, they introduced Roger as the
son of their friend Captain Layton, returned from the Indies, who was
ready to sail forth again in search of their father.  It is needless to
say that he received a warm welcome from Mistress Audley, as well as
from Lettice.  Roger had thought his sister Cicely was as near
perfection as a damsel could reach, but he could not help acknowledging
that Lettice Audley was her superior.

Mistress Audley was anxious to hear Captain Layton's opinion and what
plans he proposed.  "He is, indeed, a true, generous friend," she
exclaimed, when Roger told her that his father had actually purchased a
stout ship in which he was about to sail in the hopes of recovering her
husband.

"But the first thing we have to do is to ascertain, more exactly than we
now know, the part of the country to which he has been carried,"
observed Roger.  "I therefore propose setting off at once to London, to
learn, from those with whom the seaman Richard Batten returned, the
place where they received him on board; and then, with your leave,
Mistress Audley, I will come back here to make our final arrangements.
Do you yourself propose accompanying your sons? or will you remain here
with your daughter till we have concluded our search, and returned, as I
hope, successful?"

"I cannot so far restrain my anxiety as to remain at a distance while
others are engaged in the search, and if a way is opened out to us, my
daughter Lettice and I have resolved to proceed to Virginia," answered
Mistress Audley.

"You are a brave lady, truly," exclaimed Roger; "my sister Cicely
purposes going for the sake of being with our father, and it would be an
honour and satisfaction if you would take a passage on board his ship."

Mistress Audley expressed her gratitude, and said she would consult her
son Vaughan on the subject.

Roger Layton did not attempt to conceal the admiration he felt for
Lettice Audley, and he would gladly have remained another day could he
have found sufficient excuse.  Duty had, however, always been his
guiding star, and he accordingly the next morning at daybreak was ready
to depart.  He had taken leave of Mistress Audley and Lettice the night
before, but when the morning came Lettice was in the parlour to serve
him with breakfast, and he enjoyed some minutes of her society before
her brothers made their appearance.  They came down booted and spurred,
prepared to accompany him part of the way.  He promised not to spare his
good steed; but even so, he could not hope to be back much within a
fortnight, and soon after that time he expected that the _Rainbow_ would
be ready for sea, and he thus could not remain more than a day at
Mistress Audley's on his way to Plymouth.

In the evening Vaughan and Gilbert returned home.  As they reached the
gate, they were surprised to see two stout horses, held by a groom,
standing before it.  They inquired who had arrived.  "Your worships'
cousin, master Harry Rolfe and a stranger, a stout and comely gentleman,
who has the air and speech of a sea-captain--though he may be, judging
by his looks, some great lord," answered the groom.

"Poor Harry!  I thought after the unkind treatment as he called it which
he received from our sister, that he would not come back again to this
house--but I shall be glad to see him," observed Vaughan to his brother.

As they entered the parlour, they found their mother and Lettice with
the two gentlemen who had just arrived.  Their cousin, Harry Rolfe,
whose appearance was much in his favour, sprang from his seat to greet
them, and introduced his companion as Captain John Smith, "With whom, in
the company of many other right worshipful gentlemen, I am about to sail
for Virginia," he added.  "I could not quit England without coming to
bid you farewell: for it may be my lot, as it has been that of many
others, not to return."

Mistress Audley sighed as he spoke.  "Pardon me, kind aunt, for the
inadvertence of my expression," he exclaimed.

"You are thinking of our father," said Gilbert; "but we have had news
that he is still alive, and you will, I know, gladly join us in
searching for him."

Captain Smith on this made inquiries regarding the subject of which they
were speaking, and such information as they possessed was given him.  He
listened attentively, and promised to use all the means in his power in
searching for Captain Audley.  His words greatly raised Mistress
Audley's spirits; for he was evidently a man who would carry out
whatever he purposed.  Already advancing towards middle life, he
possessed an eagle eye, a determined expression of countenance, and a
strongly-knit figure capable of enduring fatigue and hardship.

Harry Rolfe further informed his relations that he and Captain Smith
were on their way to join their ship, the _Hector_, at Plymouth, into
which port she and several others were to put before proceeding on their
voyage.  The countenance of Harry Rolfe brightened as he heard that his
relatives purposed proceeding to Virginia; but Lettice turning away her
head as he expressed his pleasure at the thoughts of their coming, he
looked disappointed and grieved.  Mistress Audley, as in courtesy bound,
invited her visitors to remain to supper; but they excused themselves on
the plea that they must hasten on in case their ship should arrive at
Plymouth, and expected to sleep some ten miles further on their road.
Taking their leave, therefore, they proceeded on their journey.

Mistress Audley was naturally agitated with many doubts and fears as to
the propriety of proceeding.  She herself was ready to encounter any
dangers or hardships for the purpose of encouraging the search for her
husband, and for the sake of sooner meeting him, but she doubted whether
it was right to expose her young daughter Lettice to such risk; while
her eldest son, though without him she could not proceed, would be drawn
away from his studies at Cambridge and from the career he had chosen;
but her children were unanimous in their desire to go to Virginia, and
Lettice declared that even without such a motive she would willingly
undertake the voyage.

She had a near neighbour, Captain Massey White, once Governor so called
of Virginia, though there had been few men to govern, and those very
ungovernable.  He was now advanced in life and broken in health.  Him
she consulted: he spoke cautiously.  If the new adventurers acted wisely
they might succeed.  The country was of exceeding richness, and the
natives, though savage, might be won over.  He could not advise a wife
against seeking her husband, though many dangers must be encountered.
To him the subject brought sad recollection.  His only daughter and her
husband, Ananias Dane, with their infant, a little girl, had been
slaughtered with many others by the Indians, their only other child,
their son Oliver, happily escaping, having been left with his grandame
in England when they went to the colony.  Oliver Dane, a boy of spirit
and intelligence some years younger than Gilbert, was a frequent visitor
at the house of Mistress Audley and a great favourite of hers.  She
pitied him also, for his grandfather could but ill manage him or afford
him the amusements suited to his age.  He, like many boys of those days,
was longing to go to sea--to visit strange countries, and to engage in
the adventures of which he often heard from the mariners he met with in
Dartmouth.  The result of her conversation with Captain White
strengthened the resolution of Mistress Audley to proceed to Virginia.
When young Dane heard of it, he was mad to go also.  He begged Vaughan,
who had a great liking for the lad, to take him.  He had no need to ask
Gilbert, who declared that they would not leave him behind.

Mistress Audley and Lettice were pleased at the thoughts of having him
with them.

Strange to say, the old man was willing to part with him.  He must ere
long go into the world to seek his fortune, and he could not be placed
under better superintendence than that of Vaughan Audley, for whom he
had a high esteem, and who would afford him instruction and watch over
his interests.  It was thus settled, to the great delight of Oliver
Dane, after much more had been said than need be repeated, that he
should accompany Mistress Audley and her family to Virginia.

Such of their goods as they considered likely to be of use, were packed
up in fitting packages for stowage on board ship, and such other
arrangements for the disposal of their property as were deemed necessary
were made with the help of a trustworthy lawyer at Dartmouth.  Seeing
that the task was new to all of them, it was only just accomplished when
Roger Layton arrived from London, accompanied by two men, Ben Tarbox and
Nicholas Flowers by name, who had belonged to the _Sally Rose_, in which
Richard Batten had escaped from Virginia.  They were both willing to
return to the country, and gave so circumstantial an account of the part
they had visited, and were so certain that they could find their way to
it again, that Roger had no doubt about the matter.  Vaughan, who
examined them much as a lawyer would a witness, was well satisfied on
that score, but not so in other respects with one of the men, Nicholas
Flowers, whom he set down in his mind from the first as an arrant rogue.
Of Ben Tarbox Vaughan formed a better opinion, that he was an honest
fellow, with a fair amount of wits.

Roger brought also a letter from Sir George Summers, to whom he had been
introduced in London, and who had known and esteemed Captain Audley,
offering to give a passage to Mistress Audley and her family on board
the _Sea Venture_, which ship was about to sail from the Thames, and to
come round to Plymouth, where she was to be joined by seven others, so
the letter stated, though their names were not mentioned.  Sir George
was most kind and pressing; for the regard he bore her husband, he
assured Mistress Audley that she should be put to no expense, and as the
ship was large and well-found, she might hope to have a prosperous
voyage, with fewer discomforts than are the lot generally of those who
tempt the dangers of the sea.

"For Sir George's offer we should indeed be thankful," observed Mistress
Audley, when she came to the end of the letter; "it seems like the
guiding of Providence, and we are in duty bound not to refuse it."

To this Roger could raise no objection, though he confessed that he was
disappointed at not having Mistress Audley and her daughter as
passengers on board the _Rainbow_.  They would, however, sail in
company, and in calm weather he might hope to pay them a visit, and at
all events they would meet at the end of their voyage.  Roger found a
letter waiting him from his father, stating that the _Rainbow_ was
nearly ready for sea, and advising that Mistress Audley and her family
should come round by water from Dartmouth, as the easiest means of
transporting their goods.  Roger was glad of this opportunity of
remaining longer in the company of Mistress Lettice, and of offering
that assistance which his experience enabled him to give.  He at once
hastened to Dartmouth, where he engaged a pinnace with eight rowers, the
master of which undertook, the sea being calm, to carry them to Plymouth
between sunrise and sunset.

There were many tears shed by those on whom Mistress Audley and Lettice
had bestowed kindness, as they set out from the home they were leaving,
probably for ever, mounted on pillions; the pack-horses with their goods
following in a long line.  Mistress Audley rode behind Vaughan, and
Lettice sat on the horse with her younger brother, beside whom rode
Roger Layton, while Oliver Dane on his grandfather's nag--seldom now
bestrode by the old man--trotted up now to one party, now to the other,
but found Vaughan more ready to talk than was Roger, who had ears only
for what Mistress Lettice might please to say.  Thus they proceeded till
they reached Dartmouth, close to which lay the pinnace Roger had hired.
The goods were placed on board that evening, that they might sail
without hindrance at dawn on the following morning.

The calm harbour lay in deepest shade, although the summits of the rocks
on the western side were already tinged with the rays of the rising sun,
as the pinnace, propelled by eight stout rowers, glided out towards the
blue sea, rippled over by a gentle breeze from the eastward.  The
pinnace coasted along the rocky shore till the long, low point of the
Start was rounded, when, altering her course, she steered for Plymouth
Sound, keeping well inside that fearful rock, the Eddystone, on which
many a bark has left her shattered ribs.  Roger talked much to Lettice
as he sat by her side.  He told her of the voyages he had made, of his
last ship, when their brave pilot, that renowned navigator, John Davis,
with many of his followers, was treacherously slain by the crew of a
Chinese ship they had captured,--Roger himself, with a few fighting
desperately, having alone regained their boat as the Chinaman, bursting
into flame, blew up, all on board perishing.  Lettice gasped for breath
as she listened to the tale; then Roger changed the subject and told her
of the wonderful islands of the East, with their spice-groves and
fragrant flowers; of the curious tea-plant; of the rich dresses of the
natives; of the beautiful carved work and ornaments of all sorts which
he had brought home.

"I have had them placed in my father's house, and they will please you
to look at, Mistress Lettice," he observed; "for it may be some days
before the fleet sails, and as my father could not bring himself to part
with his house, it will afford you a home while you remain at Plymouth."

Gilbert and Oliver Dane were interested listeners to Roger's tales,
though the descriptions of battles fought and hair-breadth escapes
produced a very different effect in them; while she trembled and turned
pale, they only longed to have been with Roger, and looked forward to
the opportunity some day of imitating him.

Both wind and tide had favoured the voyagers, and before sunset the
pinnace lay at anchor directly in front of Captain Layton's house.  The
captain had seen them coming, and with Cicely beside him was on the
shore to welcome them.  With becoming gallantry he pressed Mistress
Audley's hand to his lips, while he bestowed a kiss on Lettice's fair
brow, telling her how glad he was to greet her father's daughter.
Cicely then took her hand, and led her towards the house, while the
captain assisted Mistress Audley up the steep ascent.

The captain having well calculated the time they would arrive, a
handsome repast was already laid in the hall, to which the superior
officers of the _Rainbow_, and some of those of gentle birth intending
to go passengers by her, were invited.  Three of the other vessels
destined to form the fleet had arrived, but the admiral's ship, the _Sea
Venture_, had not yet come round from the Thames.  The time was spent by
the young people with much satisfaction to themselves, and so well
pleased was Mistress Audley with Cicely that when Vaughan told her that
he wished to make her his wife, she did not object to his pledging his
troth, though she warned him that the present was not a time to take
upon himself the cares of a wife and family, and that all his thoughts
must be employed in the sacred duty in which he was engaged.

At length a tall ship was seen sailing up the harbour with gay flags
flying from the mastheads.  The other vessels as she approached saluted
her with their guns; the captain, who was on the watch, pronounced her
to be the _Sea Venture_, the ship of the good admiral, Sir George
Summers, commanded by Captain Newport, with Sir Thomas Gates, the new
Governor of Virginia, on board.  Soon after she dropped anchor the
admiral's barge was seen leaving the ship, and Captain Layton went down
to beg that he would remain at his house till the fleet was ready to
sail.  Sir George, whose shipmate he had formerly been, was well pleased
to accept his offer; Mistress Audley had thus an early opportunity of
thanking the admiral for his generous offer.

"The thanks are due from me, Mistress Audley, that you condescend to
take passage with your family on board my ship," he answered, with
proper gallantry.

Mistress Audley told Sir George of Captain Layton's desire that she
should sail on board his ship.  "I will not act the hypocrite, and say
that I am sorry to deprive him of the pleasure," answered Sir George,
"and having gained your promise to sail on board my ship, I intend to
keep you to it."

Sir George was accompanied by several cabin boys, one of whom he brought
on shore, and introduced as the son of his old friend, that brave
sea-captain and good knight, Sir Edward Fenton, lately deceased.  Ned
Fenton, who was now going for his first voyage, and Gilbert soon became
fast friends, and were well pleased to find that they were to continue
together.  The remainder of the passengers of the fleet now arrived,
most of whom were gentlemen of good family, though of broken fortunes--a
class ill fitted for the work before them; while the remainder were
artisans far more likely to succeed than the former in a new colony.

At length the whole of the fleet to which the _Rainbow_ was joined
gathered in the Sound, and a brave appearance they presented as seen
from the windows of the captain's house, their flags flying and their
sails hanging in the brails ready to sheet home as soon as the admiral
should give the signal to weigh anchor.  The wind, however, continued
blowing from the westward, and eager as they were to depart, the admiral
knew that it would be useless to proceed to sea when no progress could
be made towards their destination.

Gilbert and Oliver spent most of their time on board the _Sea Venture_,
to which, through the kindness of Sir George Summers, they had been
appointed as officers, that they might receive wages from the company;
but Vaughan, who had no fancy for a sea-life, found ample occupation on
shore in attending on Mistress Cicely, while she had no objection to be
so attended.  She consenting to his proposal of marriage, he had spoken
to her father.  "I would not desire a more worthy son-in-law," answered
the captain; "but she and you are young, and can afford to wait till we
have founded our new settlement, and have houses to dwell in, and lands
we can call our own to cultivate.  You may deem me unkind; but I were
more unkind to grant your request, judging as I do what is best for you
both.  A sea voyage, even though you are in different ships, will not
cool your love, and if, as I am sure will be the case, some months hence
you are of the same mind, your mother and, as I hope, your father also
agreeing thereto, I will no longer prohibit your marriage."

Thus Vaughan and Cicely, as many other young people have had to do, had
to wait patiently, looking forward with hope to the future.



CHAPTER THREE.

At length a gun was fired from the admiral's ship,--the signal for the
fleet to weigh anchor.  It was at once repeated by a whole salvo from
Captain.  Layton's battery, discharged according to the captain's
directions by Barnaby, who had been left as guardian of the house and
property, the owner deeming it possible that he might some day return to
his own home.  The wind had veered round to the north-east, and blew a
fresh breeze, which it was hoped would speedily waft them across the
ocean.  The _Sea Venture_ took the lead, the _Rainbow_ following close
astern, and the other vessels in their different order of sailing.  Thus
the fleet glided on.  The blue Lizard, growing dimmer and dimmer; sank
beneath the ocean; the Land's End was lost to sight, and the fleet,
guided by the wondrous compass, sped onward, chasing the sun in its
course.  For several days the wind continued fair, the ocean calm, and
all on board looked forward to a speedy termination of their voyage.
Audley watched with interest the _Rainbow_ as she kept her course,
sometimes drawing close enough to enable him to see Mistress Cicely on
her deck.  It is possible that her young mate might have done his best,
by pressing on sail, to keep her there, in order that he himself might
have the satisfaction of seeing Mistress Lettice, with her mother and
other ladies seated on the high poop of the admiral's ship, under an
awning spread to shelter them; for the wind being light and aft, the sun
beat down with no slight force, and few would willingly have remained
long exposed to its burning rays.  The sea, just crisped over with
wavelets, glittered brightly, and ever and anon huge fish rose to the
surface and gambolled round the ships, wondering what strange monsters
had come to invade their watery domain.  Gilbert, Oliver, and Fenton
were in the mean time busying themselves about their duties.  Gilbert
had undertaken to instruct his younger companions in such nautical
knowledge as he possessed: Ned was an apt pupil, and he hoped to do no
discredit to the name of his honoured father.

"I had expected on coming to sea to meet the huge waves towering as high
as the mastheads, and strong winds, and thunder and lightning; but the
life we lead in this calm weather is so pleasant and easy that I should
soon grow weary of it," observed Fenton.

"Wait a bit," answered Gilbert; "my experience is not very great, but I
can tell you that the ocean is not always in its present humour, and
that we may have another account to give before we reach the shores of
Virginia."

Still the fine weather continued; and at length so completely did the
wind fall that the ships lay rolling their sides slowly to and fro,
their tall masts reflected in the mirror-like ocean, it being necessary
even for the boats to be lowered to keep them apart.  The opportunity
was taken by many to visit each other's ships.  Vaughan went with his
brother on board the _Rainbow_, and Mistress Cicely welcomed him in a
way which made him wish that he might continue the voyage with her; but
he remembered that his mother and sister were on board the _Sea
Venture_, and that duty required him to be with them, that, should any
mishap occur, he might be at his post to protect them as far as he had
the power.  Roger Layton received a similar welcome from Lettice;
although he had not spoken to her, she was perfectly well acquainted
with the state of his heart, and knowing that he was equally well
acquainted with hers, she remained satisfied that God would order all
for the best.  Mistress Audley was well pleased with the young sailor;
she had discerned his good qualities, and the wealth he would inherit
from his father was sufficient for the position in life she desired for
her daughter.  There is an old saying that "the course of true love
never did run smooth;" in this instance it seemed, however, that the
proverb was not to prove a correct one.

As darkness was coming on, the admiral ordered the boats to return to
their respective ships, and the lights in the lanterns on the stern of
the _Sea Venture_ were kindled for the guidance of the fleet at night.
Towards morning there was a change in the weather.  Dark clouds were
chasing each other rapidly across the sky; the sea, of a leaden hue,
tossed and tumbled with foaming crests; the seamen were busy aloft
furling sails, and the ships, which had hitherto kept close together,
now, for safety's sake, separated widely.  The wind whistled in the
shrouds; the waves dashed against the lofty sides of the _Sea Venture_,
whose fortunes we must now follow.  Still the stout ship kept her
course, under reduced canvas.

"I told you, Ned, that it was not always calm and sunshine," observed
Gilbert, while he and his friends clung to the weather-bulwarks as the
ship plunged into the heavy seas.  "I wonder how the other ships are
faring?  Let us climb into the main-rigging and see."

Fenton, Oliver, and he did as proposed, and holding on to the shrouds
they gazed over the storm-tossed ocean.  Every instant the wind was
increasing in strength, and the waves in height, amid which the other
ships were seen tossing and tumbling, thrown, as it were from sea to
sea, with but a small amount of canvas to steady them, and even then it
seemed as much as they could bear.

"I wonder which is the _Rainbow_," continued Gilbert; "Vaughan and
Lettice will be watching her with no small anxiety.  See, there they
stand on the poop-deck, straining their eyes towards the ship they
suppose to be her: truly, I should grieve were any misfortune to happen
to those on board."

"So should I," said Fenton; "but it is a hard matter to make out which
is the _Rainbow_, though I thought that I could distinguish her from the
rest."

Every moment the gale increased, and the seas rose higher and higher;
six strong men were at the helm, but even then with difficulty could the
ship be steered.  The sails were closely furled, with the exception of a
small foretopsail, and away the stout ship flew--now dipping into one
sea, the foaming crest of which came rushing over the deck, now rising
to the summit of another.  Still Lettice, with her brother's arm round
her waist to secure her, stood on the poop; her face was pale, though
not with alarm for herself or those with her so much as for the
_Rainbow_, for she naturally thought "if such is the buffeting our large
ship is receiving, what must be the condition of so small a bark as the
_Rainbow_," towards which ship her and her brother's eyes were cast, as
they supposed.  Those who could have distinguished one ship from the
other were busy in attending to their respective duties.

Gilbert and his messmates still kept their post; they, too, were
watching, as they believed, the _Rainbow_, which was endeavouring, as it
seemed, to set more canvas, to bear up for the Admiral.  Now she
appeared sinking into the deep trough of the sea, now tossed up
helplessly to the summit of another, again to descend, when her hull
could scarcely be distinguished amid the masses of foam which danced
madly round her.  As she lay deep down in the watery valley a huge sea
rolled over her deck, and she did not rise again on the other side.  A
cry escaped from the three lads: "She's gone! she's gone!"--echoed by
many on deck.

Lettice, with straining eyes, gazed at the spot where the ship had been.
Vaughan, his heart torn with anguish, endeavoured to support her, but
could ill restrain his own feelings, believing as he did that Cicely had
perished.  The admiral had seen what had occurred, and with gentle force
conveyed her to the cabin, where she could receive from her mother that
comfort she needed so much; while the governor with friendly sympathy,
taking Vaughan's arm, endeavoured to calm his agitation and prevent him
from madly leaping into the sea.

"Oh, steer the ship to their assistance!  We must go and help them,"
shouted Vaughan, not knowing what he said.

"The attempt were vain," said the captain; "long ere we could reach the
spot where yonder ship has gone down, all who were on board her will
have perished;" and he made a sign to the governor, and others standing
round to carry the young man below.  They succeeded, Vaughan moving like
one in a dream.  The admiral assured Lettice and her brother that it was
possible the ship they had seen go down was not the _Rainbow_, for
though small compared to their own ship, she was a stout, well-built
bark, and might contend successfully with even a worse storm than was
then blowing; adding that one of the vessels seen in the distance bore a
great resemblance to her; indeed, by every means in his power, he
endeavoured to restore their spirits.  He was compelled, however, soon
to leave them, to attend to the navigation of the ship.  He and Captain
Newport held an earnest consultation, for the fierce storm, instead of
giving signs of abating, was hourly gaining strength.

The wind, which first came from the north-east, now shifted suddenly
round, greatly increasing the height of the seas, and fearfully
straining the labouring vessel.

Night coming on, the other ships were lost to sight; no one could tell
in what direction they had gone.  Those who were inclined to look at
matters in the darkest light believed that they had foundered.  Not for
a moment did the brave admiral leave the deck.  Now, the rain pouring
down, all was pitchy darkness; and then suddenly a vivid flash of
lightning showed the whole deck, and the pallid faces of the crew--for
even the stoutest-hearted looked pale; and well they might, for the
raging seas threatened every instant to engulf them.  Few men surrounded
by such horrors can face death unappalled.

Thus that dreadful night passed on.  But matters had not come to the
worst; the admiral sat on the deck, conning the ship, endeavouring with
all the nautical skill he possessed, in which no man surpassed him, to
keep her before the wind.  The carpenter, who had been below to sound
the well, rushed up, a flash of lightning exhibiting his countenance
pale as death.  "We've sprung a fearful leak, sir," he exclaimed; "it's
my belief that the oakum is washed out of the seams, for already the
water is rising above the ballast."

"Then hasten with your crew, search out where the worst leaks exist, and
strive to stop them," said the admiral, calmly; "man the pumps, and let
others be told off with buckets to bale out the water.  We must not give
way to despair; often have men been in a worse condition on board ship,
and by persevering efforts have preserved their lives."

The determined way in which the admiral spoke somewhat restored the
confidence of the crew; some with lanterns in their hands crept into the
wings on either side of the ship, close to the ribs, searching every
corner, and listening attentively to discover the place where the water
entered.  Others, like galley-slaves, stripped to the waist, went to the
pumps, and worked away with that desperate energy which men exhibit when
they believe that their lives depend on the efforts they are making.
Several of the leaks were found, but still the water came rushing in on
all sides.  The carpenter again reported that it was still rising, and,
from the quantities of bread brought up, that the chief leak must be in
the bread-room.  Here he once more made search, but failed to discover
the spot at which the water entered.  The officers of all ranks exerting
themselves to the utmost, the men followed their example, while the
passengers offered to labour with them.  Vaughan Audley found the task
he, with others, had undertaken, a great relief to his grief and
anxiety; with Gilbert and young Fenton, he was working now away at the
pumps; now he was standing one of the line formed to pass the buckets up
from below.  Even the women desired to take their share in the work.
All on board were divided into three parties--while one party laboured
at the pumps, or passed up the buckets for an hour at a time, the
others, exhausted by their exertions, lay down to rest.  An officer
stood ready to give the signal as soon as the time arrived for the
working party to be relieved.

Daylight at length returned, but showed no improvement in the weather;
the wind blew as furiously as ever.  Not for a moment had the brave
admiral left his post.  Just before noon a prodigious sea came rolling
towards the ship, and, breaking over her bow, washed fore and aft,
filling her from the hatches up to the spar-deck.  For some time it
appeared impossible that she could shake herself clear of the mass of
water, which, as it rushed aft, dashed the men from the helm, forcing
the tiller out of their hands, and tossed them helplessly from side to
side.  It seemed a wonder that none were carried overboard or received
mortal injury.  The admiral, too, was thrown from his seat and, as were
several officers round him, cast with his face on the deck.  Still,
while endeavouring to recover himself, he shouted to others of the crew,
who flew to the helm and prevented the ship from broaching to.  Though
she was running at the time under bare poles at the rate of scarcely
less than eight knots an hour, for a moment the violence of the shock
stopped her way, and many thinking that she had struck on a rock,
shouted out, "We are lost! we are lost!"

"Not yet, my brave fellows," cried the admiral; "while there is life
there is hope!  The ship is still swimming: all hands to their
stations."

Another voice was heard clear and clarion-toned amid the howling of the
storm, as the voices of God's ministers should sound at all
times:--"Turn to Him who calmed the tempest on the sea of Galilee.  Why
are ye affrighted, oh ye of little faith?  Trust to Him all powerful to
save, not your frail bodies only from the perils of the deep, but your
immortal souls from just condemnation.  Turn ye, turn ye! why will ye
die?  He calls to you; He beseeches you.  Trust to Him! trust to Him!"

He who spoke was the good chaplain, Master Hunt, who had been
ceaselessly supporting the sorely-tried ones below with words of comfort
from the book of life, and who had now come on deck to perform his duty
to the fainting crew.

The men, thus encouraged, returned to their duty, and worked away with
the same vigour as before.  Even during this fearful time neither
Vaughan nor Gilbert had quitted the pump at which they were labouring.
Though Vaughan, believing that Cicely was lost, cared little for life,
yet he thought of his mother and sister, and felt that it was his duty
at all events to labour for their sakes.

"Don't give way brother," cried Gilbert, "our mother has often said that
God watches over us, and if it is His good will He can preserve us even
now.  The carpenter has just stopped another leak, and I heard him say
that he hoped the rest might be got at.  We may be thankful that we have
strength to work."

"Spell, oh!" was soon after this cried, and a fresh party hurrying from
the cabins and from the more sheltered spots where they had thrown
themselves down to rest, came to relieve those who had been working for
the last hour.  Thus two days went by, but the storm abated not; no land
was in sight; few indeed on board knew whither they were driving; all
they could do was to labour on, and then to lie down in order to gain
fresh strength for renewed labours.  Sometimes the wind came from the
north; then shifted to the north-east, often in an instant veering two
or three points, and almost half round the compass.  The brave admiral
did his best to steer west by south, but that was no easy matter.  In
spite of all on board, as the water was still increasing, he gave orders
to lighten the ship by throwing overboard numerous casks of beer, oil,
cider and wine, which to those who loved their liquor was sadly trying;
but just then life to them was dearer than aught else.  The hold being
filled, scarcely any fresh water or beer could be got at, nor could a
fire be lighted in the cook-room to dress their meat.  Thus, thirsty and
famished, the crew had to toil from day to day, while such refreshment
as sleep could have afforded was well-nigh denied them.

All this time three pumps were kept working, and not for a moment did
they cease baling out with their buckets, barricoes, and kettles.
Still, notwithstanding their utmost exertions, the ship had now ten feet
of water in her hold, and had they for a single watch ceased to pump,
she must have foundered.  At length the admiral gave the order to heave
overboard the guns; it was a desperate remedy, for should the ship
survive the gale and an enemy be met with, she must helplessly yield; a
greater trial to her brave crew than any they had encountered.  One
after one, the tackles cast off, the guns were sent plunging into the
ocean.  Relieved of their weight, the ship floated somewhat more
buoyantly.

"We have done our best," exclaimed the brave admiral.  "One more
resource remains to us, we must cut away the masts."

All knew that this was indeed a desperate remedy, for the huge ship
would thus float a mere log on the water, waiting if, by God's good
providence, some other vessel might bear down to their relief.  But of
that there was little prospect; still their lives might thus be
prolonged a few short hours, and true men know that it is their duty to
struggle to the last, and trust to God for their preservation.

All this time no observation had been taken, for neither was the sun to
be seen by day, nor the stars by night.  Gilbert and Fenton, with young
Oliver, had after their exertions turned in for a short time: even the
howling of the tempest, the dashing of the waves, and the terrible
condition of the shattered ship did not prevent them from sleeping.
Summoned by the boatswain's hoarse cry, they again hastened on deck to
attend to their duty.  The admiral was there, and as they were standing
near him, they saw him gaze up at the main-mast head.

"Gilbert, Gilbert, what can that be?" exclaimed Oliver.

Gilbert looked in the direction his messmate pointed, and there he saw a
small round light, like a faint tremulous star, streaming along and
sparkling brightly, now bursting into a blaze, now resuming its round
form; sometimes running up and down the shrouds, now along the main-yard
to the very end, there remaining for an instant, and then returning as
if about to settle on the mast-head, then again descending once more to
perform the same journey as before.  The eyes of all on deck were
directed towards it; some exclaimed that it was the demon of the storm
come to warn them that their minutes were numbered.

"My friends," cried the admiral, "if it were an evil spirit it would not
come to warn men to prepare for death.  To my mind it is of the same
nature as the lightning, but harmless.  Several times before have I seen
it, and on each occasion the storm has shortly after broken.  If sent
for any purpose, it is to encourage us to persevere, and to assure us
that ere long the wind will abate, and we shall gain the mastery over
our ship.  To the pumps, my friends, to the pumps! and keep the buckets
moving."

The admiral's brave words restored new life to the well-nigh exhausted
crew; once more the pumps were worked vigorously, and the buckets were
passed rapidly from below.  At dawn the admiral himself was seen
ascending the rigging.  For a few minutes he remained at the masthead;
then he waved his hat, and shouted, "Land! land!"  At that joyful cry
many who had fallen asleep in the cabins or other sheltered parts of the
ship, overcome with fatigue, were aroused, and hurrying on deck, gazed
anxiously towards the shore on which they hoped to find that safety
denied to them by the ocean.  Again they went to the pumps, and once
more set to work to bale with buckets, barricoes, and kettles,
endeavouring to keep the ship afloat till a place of safety should be
reached.

The admiral remained still longer watching the distant shore, towards
which he ordered the ship to be steered.  As she approached, numerous
small islands were seen ahead: the sight revived the spirits of all on
board.  The leadsman was ordered to sound as the ship ran on; first
thirteen fathoms of water were found, then seven.  Some spoke of
anchoring, but the admiral, though he would gladly have saved the ship,
knew full well that she would not float many hours longer.  Again he
ascended the mast, and looking out saw a spot between two high rocks,
towards which he ordered the helmsman to steer.  The foresail only was
set, to prevent the ship from striking with too great force.  The
passengers and crew were collected on deck; still to the last the pumps
were kept going, and the buckets were worked, lest she might founder
even before she could reach the shore.  It was now known that they had
arrived at the stormy Bermoothes, or as some call them the "Devil's
Islands," owing to the fearful storms which rage round them, and the
numerous dangers they present to navigators.

Islands, many hundreds in number, extended three or four leagues on
either side of the one towards which the ship's course was directed.
Trees could now be discerned on it waving to and fro in the wind: but as
the ship sped on the force of the waves decreased, and as she gradually
got under the shelter of the islands, the water became sufficiently
smooth to encourage the hope that she would not go to pieces when she
should strike the shore.  But then the crew asked each other "were they
about to be thrown on a desolate island, where neither food nor water
could be found?"

The admiral had descried two high rocks at a short distance apart, near
which the water seemed smoother than at any other part.  He now directed
the course of the ship towards it; not a moment was to be lost, for the
water was rapidly rising higher and higher in the hold.  He warned those
on deck to beware, lest the ship striking suddenly, the masts might fall
and crush those below them.  Vaughan on this led Mistress Audley and his
sister back into the cabin, but Gilbert declared that as an officer he
must run the risk of whatever might happen.  All waited with suspense
for the expected shock; the minutes seemed hours; every instant the
objects on shore became more and more distinct--the rocks, the beach,
the trees beyond, and here and there gentle slopes; but no mountains, or
even hills worthy of the name.

Vaughan endeavoured to encourage his mother and Lettice, as well as the
other ladies and children.  Presently there came a grating sound, but
the ship glided on till she finally stopped, and then there came a
shout, "We are safe! we are safe!"  Vaughan, on rushing on deck found
that the ship had glided on to a sandbank, while the shore of an island
appeared little more than half a mile away, offering an easy landing to
the storm-tossed voyagers.  Thanksgivings arose from many a heart on
board for their preservation; but others, it must be owned, thought only
how they might most quickly get on shore.

The admiral forthwith ordered the boats to be lowered, directing Captain
Newport to summon those by name who were to go in them.  The governor,
as was right, went in the first, with all the women and children.  As no
signs of natives had been seen, it was not feared that opposition would
be met with; nevertheless, the smaller boats were sent first to pilot
the way.  Vaughan and two other gentlemen passengers were requested to
accompany the governor, in order to assist in taking care of the ladies.
They were watched with some anxiety as they took their departure.

The passage to the shore was accomplished without difficulty, and the
boats entered a beautiful little bay, with a sandy beach, where the
passengers easily landed.  "Let us return thanks to Heaven for our
preservation," exclaimed the good chaplain, as they stepped on shore;
when all kneeling down, led by one who prayed not only with the lips but
with his whole heart, they lifted up their voices to Him to whose mighty
arm they gratefully acknowledged their preservation alone was due.  The
boats being immediately sent back to the ship, in a few trips the whole
of those on board were landed.  As there was still sufficient daylight,
the boats were then again despatched to bring away provisions, as well
as the carpenter's tools and other articles of the greatest necessity,
including some sails for tents, that the ladies and the governor and the
other older persons might have shelter for the night.  The rest, by
cutting down branches, made huts for themselves, with beds of leaves;
and thus, as soon as supper had been taken--the first quiet meal they
had enjoyed since the storm began--the whole of the worn-out crew and
passengers lay down to sleep, with the exception of those told off to
keep watch.  Probably, ere many minutes were over, the weary sentries
also closed their eyes.  But a God of mercy watched over the shipwrecked
company, and no harm befell them.

The next morning being calm and beautiful, the boats were sent off to
bring more provisions and other articles which could be saved from the
wreck.  Thus they were employed all day, while those who remained on
shore, when not unloading the boats, were engaged in erecting huts.  A
day of toil was succeeded by another night of rest; all worked willingly
under the able directions of the governor, the admiral, and Captain
Newport.  To assist in the more rapid landing of the cargo, a raft was
constructed, and in a short time everything the ship contained was taken
out of her.  This being done, she was completely unrigged, when the
sails and ropes and spars were landed.  They then proceeded to pull the
ship herself to pieces for the purpose of building another vessel in
which to continue the voyage to Virginia, should no assistance be sent
from thence in the mean time to them.  It was a task of great labour,
but the admiral setting the example, and working himself as hard as any
of the men, the others were fain to labour also.  Gilbert, young Dane,
and Fenton acted as his assistants, and were proud of the praises he
bestowed upon them for their diligence and perseverance.  Vaughan worked
as hard on shore, assisting the governor, who superintended the erection
of the storehouse, and the huts in which all might find shelter; and in
a short time a village sprang up.

The ladies were not idle, doing their best to fit up their own houses
and those of their friends.  Under other circumstances Lettice and
Vaughan would have been contented and happy; but the dreadful thought
that the _Rainbow_ had been lost, in spite of the assurances of the
admiral, constantly occurred to them.  Mistress Audley did her best to
comfort her daughter, but the rose left Lettice's cheek, though she
sought for strength to support her sorrow, whence strength alone can be
obtained.



CHAPTER FOUR.

The shipwrecked party were now settled in safety on the island.  They
had reason to be thankful that they had escaped the fearful perils of
the sea; but they had no wish to remain where they were: Virginia was
their destination, and thither they desired to proceed.  They looked
anxiously for the arrival of one of the ships of the squadron, which
they hoped might be sent to search for them.  No ship, however, made her
appearance, and the indefatigable admiral accordingly set to work to
improve the long-boat by raising the sides, and decking her over, and
also by fitting her with masts and sails and oars.

In the mean time the officers turned their attention to the procuring of
food for the settlement.  Several seines had been brought in the ship; a
sandy beach, free from rocks, afforded a favourable place for drawing
them, though, as yet, they knew not what fish the sea would supply.  The
two small boats were brought round to the spot, and the seine was cast.
With no slight eagerness, the greater number of the colonists stood on
the shore, watching the success of the undertaking.  The officers, as
well as the men, assisted in drawing the net; as it approached the
shore, the fins and tails of innumerable fish were seen splashing above
the surface.  Shouts of satisfaction rose from the spectators: the
seamen, led by the admiral himself, rushed in, regardless of a wetting,
to seize the fish, which were endeavouring to escape over the net, and
fifty men or more were now floundering about, each grasping one or more
of the struggling creatures.  In their eagerness, several toppled over
on their noses, and had to be picked up by their companions to be saved
from drowning.  Some came triumphantly to land, dragging huge fish, many
pounds in weight, by the gills; several received severe bites from the
sharp teeth of the fish, into whose mouths they had incautiously thrust
their hands.  Not a few scampered out, declaring that there were sharks
or other monsters among the shoal, which had attacked their legs.  Among
the most eager were Gilbert, Fenton, and Oliver Dane.  The three youths
on all occasions bore each other company, and after each of them had
secured a fish large enough to feed a dozen hungry men or more, Fenton
and Oliver were seen coming out with an enormous one held fast by the
gills, which, in consequence of its vehement struggles, they could with
difficulty land.  On the net being at length hauled up, enough fish were
secured to feed the party for several days, besides those which had
first been taken.  Among them were numerous lobsters, crabs, and
crawfish, which, it was conjectured, were the creatures the seamen had
declared had bitten their legs.  Here was an additional reason for
thankfulness, for while the sea so plentifully supplied food, there need
be no fear of hunger.  In the holes of the rocks, salt in abundance was
also found, with which the fish could be preserved, so as to afford
provision at times when the tempestuous weather might prevent the seine
being drawn.  Still, fish alone would not be sufficient to feed the
people, and parties were therefore sent out to search for such other
food as nature might have provided.  Vaughan with his brother, young
Dane, and Fenton, honest Ben Tarbox, and two other men, formed one of
the parties; the admiral, Captain Newport, and two of the lieutenants,
leading others.

They had examined, as far as their eyes could serve them, the
surrounding islands, but could see no smoke nor other signs of
inhabitants; nor did they discover the slightest trace of wild beasts.
From the masses of white foam which they saw breaking over the rocks in
all directions, they rightly judged that reefs and shoals abounded, and
that no ship could approach the group, except on the side on which they
had providentially been cast.

Vaughan and Gilbert wished their mother and sister good-bye, promising
to be back soon: they felt confident that they would be in no danger,
while the governor remained to keep the rough seamen in order.  As they
walked along, great numbers of small birds, of various species, were met
with.  Oliver happened to be whistling while stopping to look about him,
when, greatly to his surprise and that of his companions, a flock of
small birds came down and alighted on the branches close to their heads.

"Stop," said Vaughan; "we must not frighten them, and see what they will
do."

Oliver continued to whistle, holding out his hand, when half a dozen of
the birds or more hopped off the branches and perched on his arm,
looking up into his face, as if wondering whence the notes they heard
proceeded.  The rest of the party, imitating his example, and whistling
loudly, several other flights of birds came round them, resting, without
the slightest appearance of fear, on their heads and shoulders.

"'Twere a pity to abuse the confidence of the little feathered
innocents," observed Vaughan, "though I fear much, before long, they
will find out the treachery of man, and have to rue their simplicity."

"An it please you, sir, it is very likely, if we grow hungry," remarked
Ben Tarbox; "but I for one wouldn't hurt them now, though I might be
pretty sharp set."

"Keep to your resolve, my friend, and persuade your mates to be equally
humane," said Vaughan.

As they moved on, the birds flew away to the surrounding trees, but
followed them wherever they went.  They had not got far, when Fenton,
who was a little ahead, cried out, "A bear! a bear!" and immediately
fired.

"I missed him," he exclaimed, as Vaughan and Gilbert joined him.

"I doubt much whether the animal you saw was a bear," said Vaughan, as
they got up to the spot, examining the ground where Fenton declared he
had seen the creature.  "Observe these berries, and the way the soil has
been turned up: a bear would have climbed the tree from which they have
fallen; whereas, it is evident that an animal with a long snout has been
feeding here.  That tree is the palmetto, which, I have heard from those
who have been in the West Indies, yields a cabbage most delicious to
eat; these berries are also sweet and wholesome.  By taking the trouble
to climb to the summit, we may procure an ample supply of vegetables;
and see! there are many other trees of the same species.  As we shall
have no difficulty in finding them again, we will go on in search of the
animal you saw; and, should our guns not prove faithless, we may hope to
find some meat for dinner."

They now proceeded more cautiously, when, coming to the edge of an open
glade, they saw before them a herd of thirty or more swine feeding at a
short distance.  Creeping along under shelter of the bushes, they got
close enough to fire.  Vaughan selected one animal, Gilbert and Fenton
aimed at two others.  Firing together, three hogs fell dead on the
ground.  Here was a prize worth obtaining; Tarbox and the other men, who
understood cutting up a pig, were soon busily engaged in the operation,
while the gentlemen continued their search farther on.  Great was their
delight to discover pear-trees bearing ripe fruit, and at a little
distance a grove of mulberry-trees, some with white, others with red
fruit.

"In what a curious way the leaves are rolled round," observed Gilbert,
examining them; "why, each contains a little conical ball, I verily
believe, of silk."

"Yes, indeed, they are silk-worms," said Vaughan; "there are enough here
to supply the looms of France for many a day; and if we can collect, and
can manage to unwind them, we may send home a quantity certain to yield
a rich return.  We will carry back a supply of the fruit, which will be
welcomed by our mother and sister."

Gilbert and his companions quickly wove a couple of baskets of some long
grass which grew near, and filled them with mulberries and a few cocoons
of the silk-worms to exhibit to their friends.  They did not forget also
to stuff their pockets full of pears.  Well pleased with the result of
their excursion, they returned to the settlement.

The admiral, who set an example of activity to all the rest, undertook
an expedition to visit the neighbouring islands, giving leave to Gilbert
and Fenton to accompany him.  As they pulled along, they saw a number of
birds flying towards a small island.  On landing, they discovered a vast
number of eggs, the size of hens' eggs, which had been laid upon the
sand, the heat of which apparently assisted to hatch them.  The birds
were so tame that they allowed the men to come among them without
moving, so that they could be knocked down with sticks.  In a short time
a thousand birds were caught, and as many eggs, so that the boat was
loaded almost to her gunwale.  Here was a further supply of welcome
food, adding to the variety of that already obtained.  One night, the
boats returning from an expedition, the crews landed on an island to
cook their supper, when, greatly to their surprise, they found
themselves surrounded by birds which perched on their heads and arms, so
as to almost cover them, many flying directly into the fire.
Notwithstanding the shouts and laughter of the men, the birds came in
still greater numbers, apparently attracted as much by the noise as the
light, while they answered the shouts by a curious hooting; from which
reason, and from their blindness, the men called them sea-owls.  After
this, the boats were frequently sent over, and by simply waving, a
firebrand, sea-fowls invariably collected round them, so that they in a
short time could kill as many with their sticks as would fill the boats.

Not far off from the settlement was a sandy beach.  Gilbert and his
ever-constant companions were one evening returning homewards, when they
caught sight of a creature crawling out of the sea.  They hid themselves
to watch what it would do; another and another followed, when, making
their way up to a dry part of the beach, they were seen to stir up the
sand, and to remain for some time at the spot.  Vast numbers of others
followed, and continued coming, till darkness prevented their being
distinguished.  Although neither of the lads had seen turtles, they
guessed what they were, and, rushing out of their hiding-place, were
quickly in their midst, endeavouring to catch some of them; but the
creatures bit at their legs, and they, not knowing the art of turning
them on their backs, were dragged along by those they caught hold of
till they were nearly carried into the water.  At length they gave up
the attempt.

On their arrival at the settlement, they told what they had seen, when
they were heartily laughed at for not having turned over the turtles.
The next morning many of the men went out, and returned laden with
turtles' eggs, which they had found in the sand.  The following evening
the turtles were not allowed much quiet, for the men, having armed
themselves with long sticks, hid in the surrounding bushes, and as soon
as the turtles had crawled on to the beach they set upon them, and
before the frightened creatures could escape, some two score or more
were turned on their backs, and in that condition were dragged to the
settlement.  It was on a Saturday night, and the next Sabbath morning
good Master Hunt, the chaplain, failed not to remark on the kindness of
Providence in thus supplying them so abundantly with wholesome food.
The service being over, all the cooks, with many assistants, making up
the greater part of the inhabitants, were busy in dressing the turtle,
some making soup, others stews--indeed, of every mess there was far more
than the men, albeit large eaters with voracious appetites, could
consume.

Thus the settlement was amply supplied by Providence with all that
people could desire.  In truth, it might have proved a perfect paradise,
had not, alas! the evil dispositions of the men broken out to render it
like other spots of this sinful earth.

The admiral finding that no ship arrived from Virginia, despatched the
long-boat under the command of Henry Raven, the master's mate, to that
settlement, a distance, as he calculated of a hundred and forty leagues.
He promised, should he arrive safely at his destination, to return
immediately with a large vessel, capable of carrying all the party.
Many prayers were uttered for his safe arrival and return, as he sailed
away.  Vaughan did not fail to write to Captain Layton, as he also did
to Cicely; but, as he wrote, he stopped often and groaned in spirit.
Was she for whom these lines were intended still alive to read them?
"God is good; God is merciful; He orders all things for the best; His
will be done," he said calmly.  Then he wrote on: he told of his deep
anxiety, his agonising fears; but he spoke also of his hopes, of his
trust in One all-powerful to save, of his eager desire ere long to reach
Virginia.  Lettice likewise wrote to her, giving many messages to Roger,
to whom she would fain herself have written, had the so-doing been
allowable.  What she said need not be repeated.  It may be supposed that
the long separation the young people were doomed to endure was trying in
the extreme.  Mistress Audley also felt great disappointment at being
thus prevented from instituting the search for her husband, though she
confided in Captain Layton that he would use all the means in his power
to discover his friend, had he, as she prayed, escaped shipwreck; and as
she, with others, looked out day by day for the arrival of the expected
ship from Virginia, she could not help believing that her husband would
be on board.  She, like the rest, was doomed to disappointment.  Two
moons went by and no ship appeared.  Had Master Raven arrived, he would
surely have returned by this time, and fears were entertained that he
and his companions must have been lost.

The keel of a pinnace had already been laid in Gates's Bay, the name
bestowed on the harbour on the shore of which the settlement was
situated.  Some progress had been made with her, when Sir George Summers
proposed going over to the chief island, where there was an abundance of
timber, and taking with him two carpenters and a party of men in order
to build another vessel, it being evident that the first would not
contain the whole of the shipwrecked company.  The governor willingly
agreed to the proposal, and Sir George and his followers set off.  The
settlement was thus deprived of many of the most trustworthy men.

Of many events which, occurred on the island after this period we omit
the account.  Evil-disposed persons among the passengers and crew,
forgetful of their merciful deliverance and of the supply of provisions
afforded by their bountiful God to them, disregarding the exhortations
of the chaplain, Master Hunt, to live peaceable lives, formed
conspiracies against the governor and admiral with the intent of
compassing their deaths.  Happily, from want of union, these plots were
discovered, but order was not restored until their ringleader had been
seized and shot--a warning to the rest.

This state of things caused much alarm and anxiety to Mistress Audley
and Lettice.  Months passed by, the long-boat did not return.  Had she
arrived at the colony, they felt sure that, should the _Rainbow_ have
escaped, Captain Layton would have forthwith sailed in quest of them.
Thus, to their minds it was clear that either the _Rainbow_ or the
long-boat had been lost.  Happily for Mistress Layton and her children,
they trusted in One mighty to save, who orders all for the best, and
they could bow their heads in submission to His will, and say from their
hearts, "Thy will be done."

While the admiral and his party were working away on the main island at
the vessel he had undertaken to build, the governor and the carpenters
who remained at Gates's Bay laboured on at the pinnace.  Already great
progress had been made with her; oakum sufficient to caulk her was
formed from old cables and ropes.  One barrel of tar and another of
pitch had also been saved.  This however was not sufficient, and
Vaughan, who had much scientific knowledge, invented a mixture composed
of lime made of whelk shells and a hard white stone burned in a kiln,
slaked with fresh water and tempered with tortoise-oil, with which she
was payed over.  She was built chiefly of cedar cut in the island, her
beams and timbers being of oak saved from the wreck, and the planks of
her bow of the same timber.  She measured forty feet in the keel, and
was nineteen feet broad; thus being of about eighty tons burden.  She
was named the _Deliverance_, as it was hoped that she would deliver the
party from their present situation and carry them to the country to
which they were bound.

The _Deliverance_ was now launched, and found to sit well on the water.
Shortly afterwards the pinnace built by Sir George Summers was seen
coming round into the bay.  She was smaller than the _Deliverance_,
measuring nine-and-twenty feet in the keel, fifteen and a half in the
beam, and drawing six feet water.  Her name was the _Patience_, and
truly with patience had she been built, the admiral having used such
timber alone as he could cut in the forest, the only iron about her
being a single bolt in the keelson.  As no pitch or tar could be
procured, she was payed over with a mixture of lime and oil, as was the
_Deliverance_.  All hands were now employed in fitting out the vessels
and getting the stores on board.  At dawn on the 10th of May the admiral
and captain put off in their long-boats to set buoys in the channel
through which the vessels would have to pass, for the distance from the
rocks to the shoals on the other side was often not more than three
times the length of the ship.

A cross had been made by order of the governor of the wood of the wreck,
having within it a coin with the king's head.  This cross was fixed to a
great cedar tree in memory of their deliverance.  To the tree was also
nailed a copper plate with a fitting inscription.

About nine in the morning, the wind being fair, the whole of the company
went on board.  The _Patience_ led the way, with the admiral and those
who had built her on board.  The _Deliverance_, in which Mistress Audley
and her family were passengers, followed.

While all were in high spirits at finding themselves once more at sea, a
severe blow was felt; the ship quivered from stem to stern, and a cry
was raised, "We are on shore! we are on shore!"  But the captain
ordering the helm to be put up to larboard, and the starboard
head-braces hauled aft and the after-sails clewed up, she glided on,
carrying away a portion of the soft rock on which she had struck.  The
well was sounded, but no leak was discovered, though for some time it
was feared that, after the many months' labour bestowed on the ship,
they might have to return.  For two days the vessels were threading the
narrow channels amid those dangerous rocks, feeling, as it were, every
inch of their way, with the dread each instant of striking.

Happily the weather remained calm, but even thus the time was one of
great anxiety to all on board.  At length, to their infinite joy, the
captain announced that they were clear of all danger.  The ship and
pinnace shaped a course west and north to Virginia.  Seven days after
leaving the islands the colour of the water was seen to have changed,
and branches of trees and other objects from the shore floated by.
Sounding the next day, the ship was found to be in nineteen and a half
fathoms of water.  Lettice and Vaughan had remained late on deck, their
hearts filled with anxiety, for on the morrow they might know whether
those they loved were among the living or dead.  Each tried to encourage
the other, and as they stood watching the bright stars overhead and the
calm ocean suffused with the silvery light of the moon, or gazing
towards the land which they hoped ere long to see, they became sensible
of a delicious odour of fruit and flowers wafted by the night breeze
from the shore.  The sails flapped against the masts, the vessel was
taken aback, but the yards being braced round she stood on once more.

"To your cabin, Mistress Lettice, to your cabin," said Captain Newport,
"we will, in God's good providence, take you in safely to-morrow; and
now go to rest and dream of those you hope to meet, and the beautiful
land to be your future home.  Come, Master Audley, urge your sister to
take my good advice."

Vaughan, knowing that the captain was right, led Lettice to the cabin.



CHAPTER FIVE.

"Land! land!" was shouted from the masthead just before the sun rose
above the horizon, and Vaughan and Gilbert, with many others who hurried
on deck, soon saw, just emerging from the ocean to the westward, two
blue hummocks.  In a short time the land was discerned, stretching away
to the northward.  The captain at once recognised the hummocks as
landmarks to the southward of Chesapeake Bay, towards the mouth of which
magnificent estuary the ship was now steered.  The day was far advanced
when they entered between two capes, since known as Cape Charles on the
north and Cape Henry on the south of the bay, about twelve miles apart.
Their destined harbour was still far away, and it was not till nearly
two days more had passed that, early in the morning a small fort was
seen about two miles south of Cape Comfort, at the entrance of James
River.  A gun was fired, and the English flag flying from the fort
showed them that it was garrisoned by their friends.  Captain Newport
therefore sent a boat on shore to inform the commandant who they were.

While the vessels came to an anchor those on board eagerly looked out
for the return of the boat, when they hoped that their many doubts and
fears would be brought to an end.  At length she came, bringing a
stranger seated in the stern-sheets.  The eyes of all on board were
directed towards him.  As the boat approached, he stood up and waved his
hat, gazing eagerly at the ship.

"It is Roger Layton," shouted Gilbert, whose vision was one of the
keenest of all on board.

"Yes, yes! it is he! it is he!" echoed Lettice, forgetting the presence
of bystanders.  The _boat came alongside_, and Roger sprang on deck; he,
too, at first seemed not to recollect that there were others besides
Lettice lookers-on, and, advancing towards her, he took her hand and
pressed it to his lips, afterwards greeting Mistress Audley in the same
manner.

"My father and sister are well," he answered to Audley's eager queries,
as they warmly shook hands.  He was quickly, however, plied with eager
questions by many others, to which he could but briefly reply.  The
fleet had arrived safely, the ketch _Susan_ excepted, which had
foundered during the gale.  The smaller vessels had gone up the river as
far as James Town, where a settlement had been formed, and the larger,
including the _Rainbow_, lay at anchor in Hampton Roads, whence he had
come over to visit the commander of the fort.  No great progress had
been made in the settlement, for the commanders had disputed among
themselves; the only true man among them being Captain Smith, who was
the life and soul of the enterprise.

"And my husband, Captain Audley, have you gained any tidings of him?"
asked Mistress Audley, in a trembling voice.

"Alas!  Mistress Audley, we have not," answered Roger; "as yet we have
had a hard matter to hold our own, surrounded as we have been by
savages, whose friendship is doubtful.  Notwithstanding this, our brave
friend Captain Smith, Rolfe, and I, have made excursions in all
directions, and, whenever we could, have communicated with the Indians,
making inquiries for a white man residing among them.  Even now, Captain
Smith is away up the country, and he promised me that he would continue
his inquiries.  I, indeed, should have accompanied him, but my father is
disheartened with the way affairs have been carried on, and poor Cicely
is so much out of health that we were on the point of sailing for
England.  I trust that your arrival will cause him to change his plan,
and you may depend on it that I will use my influence to induce him to
do so."

"Of course you must," exclaimed Gilbert, "why, I have been looking
forward to all sorts of adventures with you, and Vaughan there will
greatly object to your going."

"Indeed shall I," said Vaughan, "and I propose, with your leave, going
on shore with you, and proceeding overland to where the _Rainbow_ is
lying, concluding, as I do, that we shall get there sooner than the
ship."

"You are right, and I shall be glad of your company," said Roger; "it
will be the best proof to Cicely that you are not fathoms deep below the
ocean, as she has been inclined of late to believe."

"What, has the long-boat with Master Raven not arrived?" asked Vaughan.

"We have had no tidings of her," answered Roger; "it is too likely that
all on board have perished."

After much more information had been exchanged, Roger, with Vaughan
Audley, returned on shore.  Others would have done so, but the captain
hoped to sail in the evening, and it was the object of all to reach
James Town as soon as possible.  Lettice was unwilling so soon again to
part with Roger, but now, knowing that he was safe, her spirits revived,
and the colour once more returned to her cheeks.

The wind proving favourable, the _Deliverance_ and _Patience_ got under
way, and proceeded round to Cape Comfort, where they came to an anchor
in the roads, not far from where the _Rainbow_ and two other ships lay
moored.  Scarcely had their sails been furled than the wind, which had
for some time been increasing, began to blow a perfect hurricane; the
thunder roared, the lightning flashed, and the rain came down in
torrents.  Truly, they had reason to be thankful that they were in a
safe harbour instead of being out on the stormy ocean.  So fiercely did
the hurricane rage that no boats could venture to pass between the
ships.  It was hoped that Vaughan and Roger had already safely reached
the ship, but even of that they were uncertain.  Hour after hour the
storm raged on; the surface of the harbour was broken into foaming
waves, which rolled hissing by.  The tall trees on shore bent before the
blast; huge boughs were seen torn off and whirled far away through the
air.

All night long the hurricane continued.  Towards morning it broke.  When
daylight returned, the clouds disappearing, the sun shone forth,
brightly sparkling on the tiny wavelets, which now danced merrily on the
bosom of the harbour.  Early in the morning Gilbert, accompanied by
Fenton, pulled on board the _Rainbow_.  As he stepped on deck, Captain
Layton, who was standing near the gangway, started on seeing him; for a
minute or more it seemed that he could not believe his senses.

"Who are you, young man?" he exclaimed, scanning his features.  Gilbert
briefly told him who he was, and what had occurred.

"Heaven be praised!" exclaimed the captain; "I fully believed that you
and all on board the _Sea Venture_ had perished, or I should long ere
this have gone in search of you.  The news that your brother has escaped
will restore life to my daughter Cicely, who has been mourning him as
lost.  I will at once go below and break the intelligence to her, or it
may reach her too suddenly.  Can I tell her that your brother is well?"

"I believe so," answered Gilbert.  "He but yesterday landed with your
son, and I expected to have found them on board the _Rainbow_.  Why they
have not arrived I cannot tell, as they were to have set off immediately
from Fort Algernon."

"Possibly they may have been detained by the storm, but I would rather
they had been here," observed the captain.  "The state of the whole
country is unsatisfactory, for the natives are often hostile, and it is
dangerous for a small party to move far from the settlement, although it
was understood that the Indians in this neighbourhood were friendly.
However, we will not anticipate evil, but hope for the best."

While the captain was below, Gilbert and Fenton talked over the
non-appearance of Vaughan and Roger, and agreed, should they not soon
arrive, to set off in search of them with as many men as they could
obtain.  After some time the captain summoned them into the cabin.
Cecily had been weeping tears of joy; she was anxious to make inquiries
about Mistress Audley and Lettice.  After they had replied to her many
questions, the captain proposed visiting the _Deliverance_.  Lettice and
Cicely were delighted to meet each other, but their happiness would have
been greater had Vaughan and Roger been present.  They had already begun
to feel anxious at their not having arrived on board.  Captain Layton
tried to conceal from them his own apprehensions, but he expressed them
to the admiral and governor, who, at his request, agreed to furnish him
with a party of men to go in search of them should they not soon appear.
Gilbert, Fenton, and Oliver Dane obtained permission to join the
expedition.

The party amounted to nearly a score, and with their firearms, provided
they acted with due caution, had no need to fear any number of hostile
Indians.  Captain Layton's intention was to proceed to the fort, and
should Roger and Vaughan have left it, follow their trail with the aid
of a friendly Indian who was, he said, living there with the white men.

The country was in most parts open, but at times they had to proceed by
a narrow path cut through the dense forest, where hostile natives might
have attacked them to great advantage, as they could not have been seen
till close upon them, and thus their firearms would avail them but
little.  Oliver Dane kept near the captain, who remained at the head of
the main body, while Gilbert and Fenton went on some little way ahead
with Ben Tarbox and another man, peering into the forest at every step
to discover whether it harboured a foe.  They had got within nearly a
mile of the fort when Gilbert, who was looking through some bushes on
the right, beyond which the forest opened out somewhat, caught sight of
a figure moving rapidly in the direction of the fort.  He signed to his
companions to remain concealed while he more carefully surveyed the
stranger, whom he soon knew, by his dress of skins and the feathers
which adorned his head, to be an Indian.  Gilbert watched, supposing
that others would follow, but the Indian was apparently alone.  He was
doubting whether he should advance or allow the Indian to proceed on his
way, when the keen eye of the latter caught sight of his face amid the
foliage.  Gilbert now observed that, instead of a bow and quiver of
arrows, he carried a musket in his hand.  He knew, therefore, that he
must have intercourse with the English, and was probably a friend.
Signing to his companions to remain quiet, he advanced beyond the
shelter of the bushes, and made a sign that he wished to speak with him.
The stranger, showing no signs of fear, immediately came forward and
inquired who he was and whither he was bound.  Gilbert at once replied,
that he and his companions were searching for two Englishmen who had
come from the fort and were on their way to the ships in the roads.

"Then we are engaged on the same errand," said the Indian.  "Know me as
Miantomah, a friend of the pale-faces.  I was in the fort when the ships
arrived, and a young stranger came on shore.  He and another officer
immediately set off to the harbour.  They had gone some few hours when
one of my people, who had been out scouting, brought word that the
Monacans, who are at enmity with the pale-faces, were out on a war-path,
and would too probably fall in with the trail of our friends and pursue
and scalp them.  I at once offered to follow and warn them of their
danger, and to lead them by a path round by the shore which the Monacans
were not likely to approach.  I hoped to have come upon them at their
encampment, but they travelled more rapidly than I had expected; and
while still on their track, night overtook me.  Next day, at dawn, I
pushed forward; but when I reached the spot where I calculated they must
have encamped, to my dismay, I came upon the trail of the Monacans, who
must, knew, have espied them.  I went on, however, desirous of learning
what had happened.  I soon afterwards came upon the Monacan camp, and
beyond it I found the trail of the two pale-faces.  Could they by rapid
travelling still have kept ahead?  I feared not.

"Going on, I reached their camp; and now I learnt what had befallen
them.  They were still asleep on the beds they had formed of leaves,
with their camp fire at their feet, when the Monacans had pounced on
them before they could rise to defend themselves.  There were no signs
even of a struggle,--no blood was spilt; thus I hoped that their lives
had been spared.  I immediately followed the trail of the Monacans and
their captives, which turned away to the west.  I had not gone far when
a fearful storm began to rage, and I knew well that those I was
following would seek for some place where they might obtain shelter from
the rain, which came down in torrents, and from the boughs of the trees
falling around, torn off by the wind.  I, nevertheless, pushed on; but
the rain and wind had obliterated their trail, and I could only guess
the direction they had taken.  Before me, at some distance, was a rocky
region in which several caverns existed, where the Monacans, should they
be acquainted with them, would, I knew, fly for shelter.  It was now
necessary for me to advance with the greatest caution, lest I should be
discovered by my foes, from whom I guessed that I could be at no great
distance.  I was compelled, for the sake of concealing myself, to travel
through the forest; but I kept to those parts where the trees were of
less height and the branches smaller, thus not being so likely to be
torn off by the wind.  The Monacans had, as I expected they would,
escaped from the forest, and continued through the more open country,
and I at length caught sight of them as they were making towards one of
the caverns I have spoken of.  I watched them till they took shelter
within it, and then, crouching down under the trunk of a fallen tree
which afforded me some slight protection from the tempest, I remained
till nightfall.  I knew that they would kindle a fire at the mouth of
the cavern, the light from which would guide me to it; I was not
disappointed, and, creeping cautiously along under shelter of the rocks,
I got near enough to hear their voices.  Close to the mouth of the
cavern was another, with a small entrance, penetrating deeply into the
hill, and communicating with the large cavern.  I did not hesitate to
enter, hoping to have an opportunity of speaking to the two palefaces,
and, perhaps, even of rescuing them.  I waited till I supposed that all
the Monacans were asleep; then, groping my way, reached the end of the
cavern, and found myself, as I expected, at the inner end of the large
one.

"The Monacans had, I suspected, placed their prisoners at the inner end
for greater security.  The cavern was in perfect darkness, for the light
of the fire at the entrance did not extend thus far, though it enabled
me to see the people sleeping round it.  The noise of the tempest, the
crashing of rocks as they rolled down the hillside, the huge boughs torn
off from the trees, and the ceaseless rattling of the thunder, drowned
all other sounds, and I had no fear of being heard.  Cautiously I crept
forward, with my head bent to the ground, till I found myself close to a
man, as I knew by his loud breathing.  I felt his dress, and I thus knew
that he was one of the prisoners.  I put my mouth to his ear and
whispered till I awoke him.  He was the young sea-captain whom I knew.
I told him that I had come to set him at liberty.  He replied that he
could not go without his friend, whose foot was hurt so that he could
not escape by flight.  That mattered not, I replied, as I could conceal
him till the Monacans had got tired of looking for him.

"Without loss of time, I released my friend, and we quickly set his
companion at liberty.  Helping him along between us, we crawled up to
the hole by which I had entered.  The Monacans, not suspecting what was
going on, slept soundly.  We crawled through the hole into the further
end of the small cavern; here I believed that we were safe, as the
darkness would prevent the Monacans from discovering our trail; and not
aware, as I concluded, of the existence of the hole, they would be
unable to guess by what means their prisoners had escaped."

Miantomah had got thus far in his narrative when Captain Layton and the
rest of the party came up, and the Indian had to repeat what he had
said, which, as he spoke in broken English, took some time.  Gilbert,
meantime, was very impatient to hear what farther had happened to his
brother and Roger.

"And when you got into the end of the cavern, what did you do?" he asked
at last.  "Are they there still?"

"I found that the young stranger, though unable to walk, could limp
along with the assistance of his friend and me," continued Miantomah; "I
knew of another cavern a short distance off, higher up the hill; if we
could reach it, while the rain continued to pour down as it was still
doing, we should be safe.  I persuaded him to make the attempt.  By
remaining where we were we should too probably be caught, like burrowing
animals in a hole, as the Monacans were not likely to go away without
thoroughly searching both the caverns.  The young man resting on our
arms, we set out; the influence of the tempest, as before, prevented the
sound of our footsteps reaching our enemies.  At length we reached the
mouth of the cavern, the position of which I well knew.  Thick bushes
grew in front of it, so that no strangers were likely to find us, but in
case any of the enemy might pass by, I led my companions higher up the
hill and then down close to the rock inside of the shrubs.  Here we
might be secure, though our enemies would not fail to search for us.
There was but one way to draw them off the scent; I undertook to adopt
it.  I would get to a distance and let them see me, when they would to a
certainty follow in my trail.  Being fleet of foot, I knew that I could
keep ahead of them.  I waited till nearly daylight, when I knew they
would discover the escape of their prisoners.

"Then descending the hill, I took my post at a distance from the cavern,
where I could be seen by the Monacans as they issued forth.  I was soon
seen as I knew by their gestures, and uttering a loud shout and waving
my gun over my head, I darted off.  Being fast of foot, I knew that they
could not overtake me; and they probably thought that my object was to
lead them into an ambush of the palefaces, for in a short time their
cries no longer resounded through the forest, and I felt confident that
they had turned back.  I was even now on my way to the fort to obtain
assistance, but if you will accompany me much time will be saved and we
may the sooner reach your friends."

The meaning of this address being fully understood, Captain Layton at
once agreed to Miantomah's proposal.  Notwithstanding the long run he
had had, he did not beg for a moment's rest, but led the way at a speed
which taxed the strength of all the party.  Gilbert especially was
anxious to go to the rescue of his brother and Roger, for
notwithstanding the assurances of the Indian, he could not help fearing
that they were in the most perilous position.  Should the Monacans
discover them, they would in all probability instantly put them to
death.

"They know what they are about," observed Fenton, "and depend upon it
they will not allow themselves to be taken."

"Had they their arms they might defend themselves," observed Gilbert,
"but of those the Indians are sure to have deprived them."

They asked Miantomah: he laughed.  "I forgot to say that I secured both
their weapons as well as their powder-flasks, and should their
ammunition last, they would be able, from the mouth of the cavern, to
keep at bay any number of assailants."

The party pushed on, stopping but a brief time to refresh themselves,
till at the close of the day their guide told them that in a couple of
hours more they might arrive at the caverns.  Their leader's intention
was accordingly to set off before daybreak, so as to reach the
neighbourhood of the caverns soon after dawn, when the Indians, if still
there, would be taking their morning meal.  There was still much cause
for anxiety, for should they suspect the trick that had been played
them, and cunning as they were they were very likely to do so, they
would certainly search every place in the neighbourhood in which the
escaped captives were likely to have taken refuge; for they well knew
that Vaughan Audley was unable to walk, and that his companions could
not have carried him far on their backs.  A strict watch was kept by
Captain Layton during the night, lest the natives might discover them
and attempt an attack.  The night however passed over quietly, and at
the hour proposed, Miantomah, rousing up the party, led the way towards
the hills.  The birds were saluting the early dawn with their tuneful
notes, when, just as the hills came in sight amid the trees, a shot was
heard, followed by another.

"On! on!" cried the Indian guide.  "Our friends have been discovered, as
I feared, and are defending themselves; but, though they may hold out
for some time, their ammunition must soon be expended, when the Monacans
will, to a certainty, not spare their lives."

These remarks were not required to hasten the steps of the party.
Gilbert, incited by love for his brother, dashed on at the top of his
speed, followed by Fenton, Oliver Dane, and Ben Tarbox; even the Indian
could scarcely keep up with them.  The sound of shots continued to reach
their ears; it encouraged them, showing that their friends were still
holding out.  In a short time they could hear even the shouts and cries
of the Indians, as they climbed the hill, endeavouring to reach the
mouth of the cavern; but, as yet, their approach had not been
discovered.  Miantomah now signed to them to keep to the left, and to
crouch down as he was doing, following one after the other so that they
might get close to their enemies before they were seen.  His advice was
followed, and the whole party were within gunshot before the Monacans
were aware of their approach.  For some seconds no shots were heard from
the cavern, towards the mouth of which the Indians were seen shooting
clouds of arrows, and then making their way up the hill as if they no
longer expected resistance.  On this, Miantomah, raising a loud
war-whoop, signed to the English to fire.  He was obeyed: as the smoke
cleared off, several Indians were seen stretched on the ground, while
the rest went rushing down the hill.  Gilbert and several others were
about to follow them, when Captain Layton shouted--"Keep together, my
men, and reload, for the savages are more numerous than we are; and
should they get among us with their tomahawks our firearms will be of no
avail."

It was fortunate that this order was given, for the natives, incited on
by one who appeared to be their chief, quickly rallied, and observing
the small number opposed to them, drew their bows and sent a flight of
arrows among them, which slightly wounded two men.  They were then about
to dash forward to meet the pale faces, uttering loud war-whoops, and
flourishing their tomahawks, when Captain Layton ordered his men to fire
and quickly to reload, directing several to aim at the chief.  A loud
shout reached their ears; the Indians were still rushing on, when his
tomahawk was seen to fall from their leader's hand, and the next
instant, while still in advance of his men, he came heavily to the
ground.  His followers were still advancing, when another volley was
fired into their midst, which brought several down and put the rest
hastily to flight, at a rate which would have rendered pursuit
fruitless.  Miantomah was about to rush on, Indian-like, to take the
scalp of the fallen chief, when Captain Layton shouted to him to desist,
and dashed forward in time to stop his uplifted knife.

"Let us show mercy to our enemies," he exclaimed, as he stooped over the
chief, who, resting on his arm, looked defiantly at those who surrounded
him.  In the mean time Gilbert, who was looking towards the cavern,
caught sight of Roger Layton, who trampling aside the bushes, appeared
at the entrance.  Roger beckoned to him eagerly, and with several others
he hurried up the hill.

"You have arrived opportunely," he exclaimed, "for Vaughan is sorely
wounded, and I am but in little better plight."

Gilbert, making his way through the bushes, saw his brother lying at the
mouth of the cavern with his musket by his side, the blood flowing from
a wound caused by an arrow in his side, but which he had with much
courage extracted, while Roger showed the places in his dress where two
others had passed, one through his arm and another in his leg; a large
number also sticking in the ground around them.  Gilbert, with the
assistance of Ben Tarbox, quickly bound up his brother's wound, Fenton
and Oliver attending to Roger.  More men being summoned to their
assistance, their two wounded friends were borne down the hill.

Captain Layton had attended to the wounds of the Indian chief, which his
experience told him were not likely to prove mortal.  He deemed it
important, however, to get at once surgical assistance; and as Roger
informed him that that could not be obtained at the fort, he determined,
though the distance was greater, to return forthwith to the ships.
Litters were accordingly formed for the conveyance of the wounded men,
and the party immediately set off, under the guidance of the friendly
Indian.  As they advanced, a vigilant watch was kept in case the
defeated Indians should venture to follow and attempt the recovery of
their chief.  No natives, however, were seen; yet it was possible that
they might be near at hand, keeping themselves carefully concealed.

"This country may be a very fine one, and supply a fellow with as much
tobacco as he can want to smoke," observed Ben Tarbox; "but to my mind
it isn't the pleasantest to travel in, when a man doesn't know when he
goes to sleep whether he will get up again, not to say without his
nightcap, but without the scalp on the top of his head."

From the judicious precautions taken by their leader, the party escaped
attack, and arrived safely at the harbour.  Vaughan and Roger were
carried on board the _Rainbow_, which afforded more accommodation than
the other ships, and here, by Captain Layton's invitation, Mistress
Audley and Lettice removed, that they might assist Cicely in taking care
of the wounded men.  The captured chief was also carried on board the
_Rainbow_, for want of room in the other ships.  He was here carefully
tended by the surgeon and by Mistress Audley, Lettice and Cicely also
paid him frequent visits; he thus quickly recovered, and seemed grateful
for the care bestowed on him.  His name, he said, was Canochet, chief of
the Monacans; he had formed a wrong opinion of the pale-faces, believing
that they were cruel tyrants, instead of kind and humane people, as he
had found them.  To Mistress Audley especially he seemed greatly
attached, and he declared that he would willingly give up his life for
sake of doing her a service.

Miantomah having performed his duty, returned to Port Algernon,
promising ere long to visit his new friends at James Town.  The arrival
of Mistress Audley induced Captain Layton to change his intention of
returning to England, and the _Rainbow_, accompanied by the
_Perseverance_ and _Patience_, proceeded up to James Town, situated
about fifty miles from the mouth of the river.

The settlers had expected to see a well laid-out town, with broad
streets and good-sized houses, instead of which rows of huts alone were
visible, with here and there a cottage of somewhat larger size; the
whole surrounded by stockades.  It was situated on the borders of the
river, which here made a sharp angle, another stream running in on one
side.  Thus the land on which it stood was almost an island, and
consequently protected from any sudden attack by foes not possessed of
boats or canoes.

The owner of one of the larger cottages was willing to dispose of it to
Mistress Audley; and Captain Layton having concluded the arrangement for
her, she and her family took up their abode there.  It faced the river,
with a garden reaching to the water in front.  On each side there was a
broad verandah, affording shelter from the hot rays of the sun.
Mistress Audley, as might be expected, invited Cicely to reside at the
cottage, while Captain Layton and Roger were engaged in building a house
near at hand; they, in the mean time, living on board the ship.  The
unfriendly disposition of the natives compelled the settlers thus to
concentrate themselves in a town, instead of forming farms scattered
over the country some distance from each other, by which means corn and
other productions might, in that fertile region, have quickly been
obtained.  As it was, they had to depend on the chase, and on such
provisions as they could purchase from the natives, who, though at first
willing enough to part with food in exchange for the articles brought by
the English, had of late brought in but a scanty supply.  The state of
the settlement also was in other respects unsatisfactory; the chief
persons in authority had quarrelled with each other, and Captain Smith,
the only man who had exhibited wisdom and energy, had lately started on
an exploring expedition up the country, in the hopes of forming friendly
relations with the chiefs and some of the more powerful tribes to the
northward.  It was hoped, however, that Sir Thomas Gates, aided by the
energetic admiral, would bring things into better order.

The spirits of those who left England with bright hopes of soon becoming
possessors of magnificent estates in the New World were thus at a low
ebb, and had they not either embarked all their property in the
enterprise or come out because they possessed none in England, the
greater number of the settlers would ere this have returned.  Vaughan
and Roger had completely recovered from their hurts, and even the chief
Canochet, though so severely wounded, was almost well again.  He had
been offered his liberty, but he replied that after having been so
mercifully treated by the English he would not leave them till he had
learned more of their language and religion.  In this he was especially
instructed by good Master Hunt, the chaplain, who had ever proved
himself a friend to the Indians, and to his own countrymen, whose
unseemly disputes he had been instrumental in settling.

Vaughan and Gilbert, having seen their mother established in her new
home, were eager to set out in search of their father.  She, however,
knowing the dangers to which they would be exposed, was very unwilling
to let them go until they had become somewhat acquainted with the
language of the natives and the nature of the country.  The two seamen,
Tarbox and Flowers declared their belief that the spot where they had
taken Batten on board was less than fifty miles to the north of the
entrance to James River, and that consequently the place where he had
met Captain Audley could not be much farther off than that distance from
James Town.  Captain Layton, however, who examined the men, was somewhat
doubtful of the accuracy of their statements; still, although the
distance might really be very much greater, he hoped in time by means of
friendly Indians to hear if a white man was living with any of the
tribes in that direction.  At present no one in the settlement possessed
a sufficient knowledge of the interior of the country to lead a party,
especially among savages who would probably prove hostile.  Roger and
Gilbert wished to set out by themselves, but Captain Layton positively
forbade his son going, and Mistress Audley, by his advice, put the same
prohibition on Gilbert.  They had therefore to restrain their
impatience; Mistress Audley praying that God in His good providence
would in time point out the way by which their object might be attained.



CHAPTER SIX.

Some time had elapsed since Canochet had left his new friends, promising
that the war-hatchet should be for ever buried between his tribe and the
English.  The settlers had begun to grow corn and tobacco, as well as to
form gardens in which vegetables of all descriptions were produced.  The
surrounding natives visited them occasionally, but exhibited much want
of confidence, which it was the object of the governor to overcome.  He
issued strict orders that all the Indians appearing among them should be
treated with courtesy and kindness, and any chiefs coming to James Town
were invariably sent away with presents and assurances of the good-will
of the colonists.  Still it was a hard matter to do away with the
ill-feeling which existed in consequence of the hostile meetings which
had previously occurred between the colonists and the Indians, in which
many on both sides had been slain.  At this juncture, one evening, as
the settlers were returning to their dwellings, the labours of the day
being over, the sentry posted on the look-out tower at one of the
corners of the stockade, gave notice that an Indian in hot haste was
approaching the town.  As he came near he was recognised as an Indian
named Pomaunkee, who had frequently been at the settlement, and who
appeared to have a friendly feeling for the whites, although many
disputes had occurred between them and his people, in which several, of
the latter had been killed.

He brought, he said, disastrous intelligence.  Captain Smith and his
followers had been attacked by a large body of Indians, who had murdered
all but the captain, who having been overcome after a desperate
struggle, had been carried captive to Powhattan, their chief.  He also,
probably, Pomaunkee declared, would be put to death, unless Powhattan
would agree to receive a ransom for him.

The news, which was generally believed, created much dismay and
excitement among the colonists.  Pomaunkee was conducted to the
governor, who examined him by means of an interpreter to satisfy himself
of the truth of his report.  The Indian, however, persisted in his
statement, and at length the governor was convinced of its correctness.
Those attached to Captain Smith expressed a desire to send out a party
to rescue him, and all were ready to pay any ransom demanded.  Among his
warmest friends was Master Rolfe, Lettice Audley's old admirer.  He had
been prevented by an attack of illness from accompanying him, and was
now most eager to set off; Vaughan, Gilbert, and Roger begged that they
also might go.  It was an opportunity not to be lost.  Neither Captain
Layton nor Mistress Audley could withhold their consent.  As they were
getting ready, Fenton and Oliver Dane came and offered their services;
they were aware of the risk, but they could endure fatigue as well as
older men, and such danger as was to be encountered they did not dread.
Gilbert was very glad to find that they were to go.  As the two seamen,
Tarbox and Flowers, were supposed to have some acquaintance with the
natives, they were also selected to form part of the expedition which
was placed under Master Rolfe's command.  Pomaunkee offered to act as
guide; and though the governor somewhat doubted his fidelity, his
services were accepted.

The party, thoroughly armed and confident in their numbers, set off in
high spirits, glad to have escaped at length from the daily routine of
the settlement.  Mistress Audley, Lettice, and Cicely could not see them
depart without feeling much anxiety.  Captain Layton would gladly have
accompanied them, but a long tramp on shore did not suit his legs, he
observed; and he had moreover to look after the ship and to be ready to
protect Cicely and Mistress Audley and Lettice.  The expedition had been
kept as secret as possible, that the natives might not hear of it and
give information to the neighbouring tribes.

Roger, Fenton, and Oliver had been up for some time, eager to set off,
and at early dawn the whole party filed out of the town, taking a course
to the north-west.  They proceeded rapidly, as it was important to
escape the observation of any of the natives visiting the town who might
carry information of their approach to Powhattan.  As far as they could
discover, they were observed by no one, and several miles were
accomplished without a native being met with.  The country through which
they passed was in some parts open and level, in others covered by dense
forests, many of the trees being totally strange to them.  They had to
cross numerous limpid streams, so that they were in no want of water.
Several deer started from their coverts in the forest and bounded away
over the plain, sorely tempting the travellers to follow them; but
Master Rolfe, like a wise leader, forbade his men to separate in chase,
lest the natives might take occasion to attack them.  Gilbert and Fenton
generally marched together and brought up the rear; it was the post of
danger, but they were both known to be active and intelligent, and would
keep as bright a look-out as any of the party.  As they marched on, they
held converse together.

"What think you of our guide, Pomaunkee?" asked Gilbert; "I watched him
when we halted for dinner, and it struck me that I had seldom seen a
less attractive countenance, or one more expressive of cunning.  I
expressed my opinion to my brother Vaughan, but he replied that Master
Rolfe has perfect confidence in the man, having had frequent intercourse
with him."

"I agree with you," answered Fenton.  "I too watched him when he did not
observe me; and it will be well to keep a look-out on him, though we
must take care not to let him discover that he is suspected."

Evening was now approaching, when Rolfe, who had a soldier's eye, was
looking out for a fit place for encamping.  At a little distance he
espied a rocky knoll rising out of the plain, with a stream flowing
round its base on all sides.  He at once saw that it would be a good
spot for camping and might serve at some future time for the
establishment of a fort.  Pomaunkee, however, to whom he pointed it out,
urged that they should continue on a mile or two farther, observing that
the forest would afford greater shelter and warmth during the night, and
that he would conduct then to a more fitting spot on the bank of a
river.

"I am very sure that your proposal, Rolfe, is the best," observed
Gilbert, who overheard the Indian's remark; "we shall be the better for
a cooler air at night, and moreover free from mosquitos on the top of
the knoll.  Allow Fenton and me to explore it, and we will quickly bring
you word whether it is likely to prove as suitable for encamping as you
suppose."

Rolfe having consented to this, Gilbert and Fenton set off.  They
quickly came to the conclusion that a better place for camping at night
in an enemy's country could not be found, as, with proper vigilance,
they were not likely to be surprised; and, if attacked, could easily
defend themselves against vastly superior numbers, especially if they
had time to erect stockades at the more assailable points.  The river,
which flowed round three sides, was too deep to be forded; while rough
rocks, a dozen or more feet in perpendicular height, formed the greater
portion of the remaining side.  They hurried back with this information,
and, encountering Vaughan, who had come to meet them, persuaded him to
induce Rolfe to act as he proposed, in opposition to the Indian's
suggestions.  Pomaunkee could scarcely conceal his annoyance; he,
however, being unable to offer any further reason for proceeding, was
compelled to follow the commander.  Preparations for camping were soon
made: some brushwood at the foot of the knoll was cut down to supply
fuel.  Gilbert, whose suspicions of Pomaunkee were increased by the
opposition he had offered to the selection of the place, suggested that
some stout stakes should be cut, and fixed on the side of the hill where
the slope, being less abrupt than in other places, might be more easily
mounted.

While these arrangements were being made, Gilbert and Fenton, who had
been, according to their intention, watching Pomaunkee, saw him descend
the hill and go in the direction of the forest.  In a short time they
lost sight of him among the trees.

"We ought not to have allowed him to go," observed Gilbert; "and even
now I would advise Rolfe to send some men after him to bring him back,
in case he may purpose to desert us altogether."

"The sooner we do so, then, the better," said Fenton; and together they
went to Rolfe, who was at the time on the other side of the hill, and
told him what they had observed.

"The Indian, I know, is faithful," he answered; "and I cannot suppose
that he has any intention of playing us false."

Vaughan, however, agreed with Gilbert, and at length persuaded Rolfe to
send Tarbox and Flowers, with two other men, to follow the Indian and to
bring him back, should it appear that he was deserting them.  Meantime,
the fires were lighted, pots were put on to boil, huts formed with
boughs were set up to serve as a shelter from the night air, and all
other arrangements for the night encampment were made.  It was nearly
dark when Tarbox and the other men with him returned, stating that they
had once caught sight of Pomaunkee in the distance, but before they
could get up to him he had disappeared, and that after having searched
in vain, they had judged it time to return.

"His disappearance without telling me of his intention, looks
suspicious," observed Rolfe, "and I thank you, Gilbert and Fenton, for
the warning you gave me.  He may intend treachery, or he may simply have
grown weary of guiding us, and, Indian fashion, have gone off without
thinking it necessary to tell us of his intention.  In either case, we
will strengthen the camp as far as time will allow."

"For my part, I am glad to be rid of him," observed Gilbert; "and, aided
by our compass, we can find our way without his guidance."

Supper was over; the watch was set, the officers were seated round their
camp-fire, discussing how they should proceed on reaching Powhattan's
village on the morrow, when the sentry gave notice that an Indian was
approaching from the side of the forest.

"After all, we have wronged Pomaunkee, and he is returning," observed
Rolfe.

"Not so certain of that," remarked Vaughan, who had now begun to
entertain the same opinion of the Indian as his brother; "he may have
been absent on an errand not tending to our advantage, and it will be
well, if we do not hold him in durance, that we watch him even more
narrowly than before."

"Let us, at all events, learn what he has to say for himself," observed
Gilbert, rising, Vaughan and Fenton accompanied him.  The Indian
ascended the hill, and the sentry, believing him to be their guide,
allowed him to pass without challenge.  As he got within the ruddy glare
of the fire, instead of the forbidding countenance of Pomaunkee, the far
more pleasant features of the Monacan chief, Canochet, were brought into
view.  Vaughan and Gilbert greeted him warmly.

"I am thankful that I have arrived in time to warn you of intended
treachery," said the chief.  "He who undertook to be your guide, has
formed a plot for your destruction.  I gained a knowledge of his
intentions, and instantly followed on your trail to warn you.  On
passing through the forest, I found that you had come hither, and was
following you when I caught sight of the traitor.  I tracked him,
unseen, till I found he had joined a large body of his tribe, who are
lying in ambush about a mile from this.  On discovering them, I had no
doubt that he intended to betray you into their hands.  As I thought
that even now he might hope to attack you unawares, I hastened to bring
you warning, that you might be prepared, should he attempt to surprise
you.  I myself would remain, but my single arm could not avail you much,
and I should render you more aid by returning to my people, who, though
they are still at a distance, I may yet bring up in time to assist you."

Rolfe, on hearing this, thanking Canochet for the warning he had given,
begged him to hasten on his tribe, though he doubted not that he could
hold out against any number of savages Pomaunkee might collect to attack
him.

"You call them savages," observed Canochet; "but remember, except that
they do not possess firearms, they are as brave and warlike as you are;
and as they know the country and are full of cunning, they are not to be
despised.  Take my advice: do not be tempted to quit your present
position till I return with my people.  Depend on it, it will be their
endeavour to draw you away, so that they may attack you when you are
encamping in the forest or open ground."

"Your advice seems good, my friend," answered Rolfe; "but suppose you
are delayed?  We shall starve here, unless we can procure food."

"Trust to my return before that time arrives," answered Canochet; "I
will endeavour to supply your wants.  I must no longer delay, as every
moment is precious.  It is my belief that you will be attacked this
night, so be on the watch.  However hard pressed by numbers, do not
yield."

"You may depend on our holding out to the last," answered Rolfe; and the
Indian, without further remark, descended the hill, making his way down
among the rocks, so that, had any one been watching at a distance, he
could not have been discovered.  Almost before he had reached the bottom
of the hill he had disappeared, and even Gilbert's keen eyes could not
detect him as he rapidly penetrated into the forest.

"If Canochet has spoken the truth, we have had a narrow escape,"
observed Vaughan.  "We shall do well to take his advice and to remain
here, whether we are attacked or not, till his return."

To the wisdom of this, Rolfe and Roger Layton agreed, eager as they were
to hasten to the rescue of Captain Smith.  Having completed their
fortifications as far as their materials would permit, six of their
party were told off to keep watch, while the rest lay down to sleep.

Roger took command of the first watch, for he suspected that the Indians
would attack them during the early part of the night.  On going round to
the sentries, he found them standing upright, their figures clearly
discernible against the sky to any one approaching on the plain below.
Pointing out to them the danger to which they thus exposed themselves,
he directed them to crouch down, so that an enemy might have no mark at
which to aim.

"I fear, sir, that some of our fellows may be apt to fall asleep,"
observed Ben Tarbox, who was one of those in the first watch.

"Do not trouble yourselves about that," answered Roger; "I will take
good care that they keep awake.  If any one of you catch sight of a
moving object, do not fire till you hail, and then, if you get no
answer, take good aim, and do not throw a shot away."

The men promised obedience.  There was little chance, while Roger Layton
was on watch, of the fort being surprised.  The first watch went by
without the slightest sound being heard, or an object seen outside the
camp.  The second was drawing to a close, when Ben Tarbox exclaimed:
"Who goes there?  Stand up like a man, or I'll fire at you!"  His shout
caused all the sleepers to raise their heads.  The shot which followed
made them seize their weapons and start to their feet!  Scarcely had the
sound of the shot died away, when the most terrific cries and shrieks
rent the night air, followed by a flight of arrows which whistled over
the heads of the garrison as they hurried to the stockades, and a
hundred dark forms showed themselves endeavouring to make their way amid
the rocks up the hill.

"Let each of you take good aim," cried Roger, "and load and fire as fast
as you can."

The order was obeyed; the officers, who had also firearms, setting the
example.  The Indians, who had expected to surprise the white-faces,
found themselves exposed to a blaze of fire from the whole side of the
hill, up which they were attempting to climb.  Still, urged on by their
leaders, they mounted higher and higher, in spite of the many who fell,
till they reached the stockades.  Some of the more daring, attempting to
hack at the English with their tomahawks, were pierced with pikes and
swords wielded by the stout aims of Rolfe, Roger Layton, the Audleys,
and Fenton; while their men kept firing away as rapidly as they could
reload their weapons.  The Indians fought bravely, but unprepared for so
determined a resistance, they at length gave way, and retreated, one
driving back the other down the hill.  Some were hurled over the rocks
by the victorious garrison, who, led by Roger, sprang out beyond the
stockades, and in another minute not a living Indian remained on the
hill.

"Hurrah, lads! we've beaten them!" shouted Ben Tarbox, giving a hearty
hurrah, such as he would have raised on seeing the flag of an enemy come
down in a battle at sea.

"Let no one go beyond the stockades," cried Rolfe, "we know not what
trick they may play us; let us not lose the advantage we have gained."

He spoke in good time, for Roger and Gilbert were on the point of
rushing down the hill in pursuit of the flying enemy.  The wild uproar
which had lately reigned suddenly ceased; not a sound was heard--even if
any of the wounded Indians lived, they did not give vent to their
sufferings by uttering a single groan; and, as far as the garrison could
discover, the whole body of their foes had retreated to a distance.  The
young leaders of the English, aware of the cunning of the Indians, were
not to be deceived; every man continued at his post, watching all sides
of the hill beneath them on which the attack had been made, as well as
the others round which the river flowed.  Gilbert and Fenton had gone to
a rock overhanging the stream, a few bushes growing amid the crevices of
which afforded them shelter.  Thence they could look down into the dark
water almost directly below them.  Their muskets rested on the rock, so
as to command the passage; the only sound heard was the occasional cry
of some night-bird, which came from the neighbouring forest.  Harry
Rolfe, Vaughan, and Roger continued moving round the hill, to be sure
that the sentries were keeping a vigilant watch.  They knew that the
enemy they had to deal with was not to be despised.  Although there was
no moon, the stars shone down from a cloudless sky, casting a faint
light over the plain.  Two hours had gone by; the third was drawing on;
Gilbert and Fenton occasionally exchanged a few words in a low whisper,
to assist in keeping each other awake.  At length Gilbert was looking
out directly ahead of him, when he caught sight, amid the tall grass, of
an object slowly approaching.  It seemed at that distance like a huge
serpent making its way towards the river; now it stopped, and the grass
almost hid it from view; now it advanced, getting nearer and nearer the
river.  Gilbert, afraid to speak, touched Fenton's arm, and pointed it
out to him.

"Is it a panther?" asked Fenton.

"No," answered Gilbert; "that is the head of a band of Indians; I can
trace them following one after the other.  Wait till their leader
reaches the bank; I will aim at him, and you take the second.  Their
intention is to swim across and attack us unawares; if they persevere,
we will raise a shout which will quickly bring our comrades to oppose
them."

Whether or not Gilbert's voice reached the keen ears of the Indians it
was difficult to say.  The dark line remained perfectly quiet, and he
almost fancied that he must have been mistaken.  At length, however, it
again moved on, and he could distinguish the form of an Indian crawling
along the ground, followed closely by another advancing in the same
manner.  The first reached the bank, when, without even raising himself,
he glided down it, and, sinking noiselessly into the water, began to
swim across.  The next followed in the same manner.

"Now," whispered Gilbert; and aiming at the swimmer, he fired.  Fenton
did the same.  A cry rang through the night air: it was the death-shriek
of the second Indian.  The first disappeared, and Gilbert concluded that
he had sunk, shot through the head, beneath the surface.  Rolfe, with
Vaughan and Roger, came hurrying to the spot, followed by several other
men.  Gilbert, pointing to the opposite bank, exclaimed, "There they
are!"  A volley was fired.  Whether or not any of the Indians were hit,
it was impossible to say; probably, finding themselves discovered, they
had dispersed on all sides, and crouching down beneath the grass, fled
to a distance.

"We have foiled them again!" exclaimed Gilbert, exultingly; "they will
not venture another night attack, I've a notion."

"We must not trust to that," observed Rolfe; "they are as persevering as
they are cunning, and, though defeated half a dozen times, they may hope
to succeed on the seventh.  That was but a small party who have just now
retreated, and it may be that the main body are watching their
opportunity to attack us on the other side."

"I believe that you are right," said Vaughan; "we must make up our minds
to keep on the watch till daylight, for even now the enemy may be
lurking round us, though we cannot see them."

Vaughan, while speaking, was standing up on the higher part of the
knoll, whence he could view the plain on every side.

"If there should be any Indians near, you are affording them a good
mark, brother," exclaimed Gilbert.  Just as he spoke an arrow whistled
through the air close to Vaughan's head and flew completely over the
knoll.  It was evidently shot by a person at the base, close down to the
river.

"I thought that I had killed the Indian," exclaimed Gilbert, "but he
must have found his way to the shore.  If we are quick about it, we
shall take him prisoner--who will follow me?"

"I will! and I will!" cried Fenton and Tarbox, leaping down the hill.

"Stay, stay," exclaimed Rolfe, "there may be others lurking near."

Gilbert and his companions did not hear him, and in an instant had
reached the bank of the river at the spot from whence they supposed the
Indian had shot his arrow.  They searched around, however, on every
side, but could find no one.  Rolfe, still fearing for their safety,
again more peremptorily summoned them back.  They returned much
disappointed at not having made the capture they expected.  It was
scarcely possible, they thought, that the Indian could have crossed the
river, and if so, he must still be lurking concealed beneath a rock or
bush on the side of the hill, and might at any moment appear among them,
and strike a blow in revenge for those whom they had killed.  To escape
this fate, Rolfe ordered the men to stand with their swords drawn and
their eyes on every side.  Thus a single Indian had the power of keeping
the whole camp awake and wearing out their strength.

It still wanted nearly an hour to dawn, and before that time they might
be engaged in a more desperate conflict than the first.  They could only
hope that Canochet would soon arrive to their relief.  They would not
fear to encounter ten times as many as themselves in the open ground
during the day, but it would be madness to attempt to march through the
country when they would be certain to be attacked at night by
overwhelming numbers.  With grateful hearts they welcomed the appearance
of the dawn, which as it rapidly increased exposed to their view the
surrounding country and the hill-side, on which lay the bodies of four
Indians, who had been shot dead during the attack.  On the opposite side
of the river they discovered the body of the native shot by Fenton; none
of the bodies, however, as far as could be judged from their costume,
appeared to be those of chiefs.

As soon as it was broad daylight, Rolfe allowed Gilbert and those who
had accompanied him at night to continue their search for the Indian who
had shot his arrow at Vaughan.  He could nowhere, however, be found, and
they concluded therefore that he must have floated down the river, and
landed at some distance from the hill.  Not wishing to allow the dead
bodies of the Indians to remain near them, they were dragged to the bank
and allowed to float down with the current.

As their provisions were running short, they anxiously looked out for
the arrival of Canochet, who, they hoped, would ere this have come to
their assistance.  Something, they concluded, therefore, had detained
him.  The fire was now lighted, and they cooked their morning meal.

"Should the chief not soon appear, I propose that we set out without
waiting for him," said Roger; "not finding us at the fort, he will
follow in our trail, and after the lessons we have given the Indians,
they are not likely again to attack us."

Rolfe and Vaughan, however, thought it would be more prudent to remain
where they were.

"Provided we had food, I should agree with you," answered Roger, "but
starvation is a tough foe to fight against, and for my part I would
rather face a whole host of Indians."

Still, as Canochet might certainly be expected in the course of the day,
Rolfe was not moved from his purpose.  The party did not fail to keep a
bright look-out from their hill; chafing, however, at the delay to which
they were subjected.  Gilbert and Fenton especially, with most of the
men, were eager to go on.  Their last piece of venison was consumed, and
they were growing very hungry.  As the two young men were seated
together on the top of a rock whence they could look out round them on
every side, Fenton exclaimed, "See, see, Gilbert! yonder is a deer--she
just showed her head from behind that thicket on the borders of the
forest--there is some sweet grass there probably on which she is
browsing.  If we could steal up from to leeward, we might get close
enough to shoot her before she discovers us."

Gilbert looked in the direction Fenton pointed, and he too seeing the
deer, agreed that the opportunity of obtaining a supply of venison was
not to be lost.  Slipping down from the rock, they made their way round
the base of the hill till they reached a spot directly to leeward of the
thicket near which they had seen the deer browsing.  From thence they
advanced cautiously amid the high rocks and bushes till they got close
to the forest, believing every instant that they should see the animal
before them.

"She must have gone round to the other side," observed Fenton; and they
crawled on further.  On looking back, Roger observed that they were
almost out of sight of the hill.  Still, eager to get the deer, they
went further on, when they again caught sight of the head and shoulders
of the animal, grazing not where they expected, but a considerable
distance off in the forest.  They might hit the creature, but should
they miss, it would certainly be lost to them; they therefore determined
to get nearer.  At last, Gilbert was rising to his feet to fire, when he
heard Fenton utter a cry; bitterly had they cause to regret their folly
in having quitted the shelter of the fort.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

Tarbox and Flowers had been on the watch on the side of the hill looking
towards that part of the forest where the seeming deer had appeared, and
had observed the young officers making their way in that direction.
Remembering the proverb, that "too many cooks spoil the broth," they
were afraid that were they to go also, the deer would escape, and they
might lose their share of the venison.  They waited, therefore, with
much eagerness, for the return of the sportsmen.  When, however, time
went by and they did not appear, Tarbox, calling to Roger Layton, told
him what had happened.

"Can you nowhere see them?" asked Roger.

"No, sir; maybe the deer has led them a long chase," answered Tarbox.

"The Indians may be lurking about," observed Roger to Vaughan, who just
then joined him.  Vaughan naturally felt anxious, and at once proposed
taking half a dozen men and going in search of the two lads.  Roger
insisted on accompanying him.  Rolfe charged them to be cautious, for,
knowing the guile of the Indians, he feared greatly that Gilbert and
Fenton had fallen into their hands, and that they themselves also would
run a great risk of being surprised.

"We will keep our eyes about us," said Roger, springing down the hill to
the side of Vaughan, who, with six volunteers, had already reached the
bottom.  They hurried on, keeping their firearms ready for immediate
use; for, though they still hoped that Gilbert and Fenton had really
gone in chase of a deer, they knew that at any moment they might fall in
with the Indians.  On reaching the forest they advanced more cautiously
than at first, every now and then stopping and shouting out to Gilbert
and Fenton; but no reply coming, they pushed on still further.

"The lads would scarcely have been so foolish as to have chased the deer
further than this," said Roger.  "I very much fear that the Indians have
caught them."

"I fear the same," answered Vaughan, with a sigh, as if unwilling to
acknowledge the truth; "but if so, would they not have slain them at
once rather than have carried them off prisoners?"

"We will, at all events, make a further search through the forest," said
Roger.  "We must not give up all hopes of finding them."

Though aware that they were acting imprudently, they could not resist
the temptation of going on farther, the whole party looking out among
the trees; but nothing could they discover to enlighten them on the
subject.  They were about to turn back, when Ben Tarbox, who was a
little way off on the extreme right of the line, shouted that he saw a
deer feeding at some distance ahead, and, holding his gun ready to fire,
he ran on in the direction he pointed.  Presently the report of his gun
was heard, and the rest of the party hurrying up, saw the deer, which,
strange to say, had not moved.  On reaching it, great was their surprise
to find only the head of the animal supported by a stick in the ground,
with the skin of the back fastened to it.

"Why, this is the very deer we caught sight of," exclaimed Tarbox; "it
shows pretty clearly the sort of trick the Indians have played the young
gentlemen, and tells too truly what has happened to them; though why
their decoy was left behind is more than I can say."

Vaughan and Roger knew that Ben was right; the only question now was,
whether they should try to overtake the Indians and endeavour to rescue
their friends, if still alive, from their hands.  Vaughan soon came to
the conclusion that they could not hope to do so, and, with a sad heart,
acknowledged that they must at once return to the camp.

"We shall have to fight our way to it, then," exclaimed Roger; "see
there!"--and he pointed in the direction from whence they had come,
where, amid the trees, appeared a large body of savages.  As soon as the
Indians found that they were discovered, they set up a fearful
war-whoop, their cries and shouts echoing through the forest; while,
drawing their bows, they shot a flight of arrows, by which, happily, no
one was wounded.

"Reserve your fire," exclaimed Roger, "till we get near enough to make
sure of our men: their shouting and shrieking will do us no harm."

Again the savages uttered a war-whoop, and seemed about to rush forward
to attack the small party of whites with their tomahawks, when their
shouts were replied to from the opposite part of the forest.

"Was that an echo, or are those the voices of another party of Indians?"
exclaimed Vaughan; "if so, between the two we shall have a hard fight of
it to make our way back to the camp."

Another war-whoop sounded from behind them, and looking in the direction
from whence it came, they could distinguish a still larger party than
that in front coming quickly towards them.

"Keep together, lads, and we'll cut our way through those between us and
the camp," exclaimed Roger; "and if the others follow, we must turn
round and keep them at bay till we can get the assistance of our
friends."

Drawing their swords, Roger and Vaughan led the way towards their foes.
Greatly to their surprise, the Indians, instead of stopping to receive
their charge, turned round and fled away through the forest to the
westward; while, from the opposite side, the other party was seen
advancing rapidly.  Roger and Vaughan, determining either to defeat them
or to sell their lives dearly, ordered their men to be ready to fire
when they should give the word.  As they were about to do so, they saw a
tall Indian whom, even at that distance, they knew by his dress to be a
chief, advance some way ahead of the rest, holding up in his hand a
branch which he waved to and fro.

"Stay," exclaimed Roger, rushing before the men.  "Do not fire--they are
friends."

As the Indian advanced they recognised Canochet, whom they now hurried
forward to greet.  In a few words they explained what had occurred, and
entreated him to give chase to their late opponents, whom they could not
doubt had carried off Gilbert and Fenton.  On looking round, however,
they found that the whole band, whom they had just before seen at the
end of the forest, had disappeared.  Canochet immediately waving to his
men, ordered them to advance in pursuit of the foe, and no sooner had he
uttered the word of command than a hundred warriors, bow in hand, were
rushing through the forest at a rate with which the party of English
found it a hard matter to keep up.  Every instant they expected to come
in sight of their flying foe, but on reaching the border of the forest,
not an Indian was to be seen.  Canochet, with some of his men, sagacious
braves, searched in vain for the trail of the enemy; it was evident that
they had turned off either to one side or the other, and that they had
missed it, while eagerly pushing forward in pursuit.  He was of opinion
that they had made for the stream, and having followed it up where the
shallow water allowed them to wade, they had crossed to the opposite
side and made their way to the northward.

The question whether they had got hold of Gilbert and Fenton still
remained unsettled till Canochet heard of the discovery of the deer's
head, when he had no longer any doubt about the matter.

"The youths were deceived by the seeming deer, and have been entrapped
by their foes--an Indian would have been too wise to be caught by so
simple a trick," remarked the Monacan chief.

"They were indeed foolish," observed Vaughan, with a sigh; "but have
their captors put them to death, think you?"

Canochet considered an instant: "Revenge is sweet," he observed; "but an
Indian can be moved by other motives.  They may have deemed it prudent
to preserve their lives, either to exhibit them to their tribe as
trophies of victory, or to exchange them for any of their own people who
may be captured--though I must not conceal from you that the women and
relatives of those who have been slain will certainly demand their
death.  It is believed, however, that our great chief Powhattan, from
having preserved the life of Captain Smith, is favourable to the
English; and they may dread his vengeance more than that of the whites,
should they injure their young captives."

This information afforded but doubtful comfort to Vaughan and Roger;
they would be ready, they said, to pay any amount of ransom for their
friends, if Canochet could manage to communicate with their captors.  He
promised to do so, and at once sent off a party to discover their trail
and to follow them up; though he acknowledged that he had no great hopes
that they would be overtaken.  In the mean time, he and the rest of his
band, accompanied by Vaughan and Roger, proceeded to the camp.  They had
now still more reason than ever to hasten their visit to Powhattan, in
the hopes that he might assist in the recovery of the captives should
their lives have been spared.

Rolfe ordered his men to get into marching order, and, accompanied by
the Monacan chief, they proceeded on their journey.  The day was already
far spent, so that they had gone but a short distance before it was
necessary to camp, in order that the hunters might go out in search of
game.  There was no slight danger to the huntsmen, for Pomaunkee's
people might possibly have followed them, and be on the watch to cut off
any one leaving the camp.  Hunger, however, overcame their fears, and
the huntsmen returned in safety with three deer, sufficient to afford
food both to the English and natives.  The fires had already been
lighted, and the cooks at once set to work to roast the joints of
venison, on spits formed of wood, supported on forked sticks; while the
rest of the Indians squatted round with eager eyes, watching the
process.

The Indians, confiding in their numbers, seemed to consider that no
attack would be made on them, but Rolfe, after the experience he had
gained of the treachery of the natives, deemed it prudent to place
sentries round his part of the camp.  He advised Canochet to do the
same.  "We are not so careless as you suppose," answered the chief; "we
have men on the watch, but we deem it unwise to allow them to stand up
so that they may afford a mark to the enemy.  We conceal our watchmen
from the foe approaching the camp, so that he never knows when he may be
discovered; we have men on guard outside your sentries, so that if it
pleases you, they may lie down and rest."

After hearing this, Rolfe and the other leaders slept far more soundly
than they otherwise would have done.  The night passed away without
interruption, and the next morning they proceeded on their way.  Vaughan
anxiously inquired of Canochet when he expected the return of his
people.  He had directed them, he said, merely to follow the trail to
ascertain the direction the enemy had taken, and to gain as much other
information as they could pick up.  It was not, however, till late the
next day that the party overtook the main body of the Monacans.  They
had discovered a trail which led towards the north, and that two white
men were with the party, they were from the first certain.  That this
was the case was confirmed by a slip of paper which had been found
fastened to a tree by a thorn.  It contained but a few words, signed by
Gilbert; Vaughan eagerly took it.  "We are both alive, but our captors
glance at us unpleasantly.  We will try to escape; follow if you can,
and help us."

Vaughan explained the meaning of the words to Canochet.  "Wonderful!" he
exclaimed; "can so small a piece of white material with a few faint
strokes on it say so much?"

He promised to follow the Indians, as Gilbert had desired; Vaughan
wished to set out at once with him, but he recommended that he should
first communicate with Powhattan, and get his assistance.  Vaughan,
though still very anxious, was somewhat relieved, and agreed to follow
the chief's advice.

Towards the evening, as they were proceeding along the banks of a broad
stream which fell in a succession of cascades over its rocky bed,
Canochet informed them that they were approaching the abode of the great
chief.  He had sent on before, as in duty bound, to announce their
coming.  Rolfe and Vaughan, accompanied by Canochet, were marching ahead
of their party, the English following them, and the Indians at a little
distance behind; they had just turned an angle of the river, beneath the
shade of some lofty trees which stretched their branches far over the
water, when they saw standing before them a man of tall stature and
dignified mien, clothed in rich skins handsomely ornamented, a plate of
gold hanging on his breast, and an ornament of the same precious metal
on his head.  By his side was a young girl who could scarcely, from her
appearance have seen seventeen summers.  The pure blood which coursed
through her veins and mantled on her cheeks gave a peculiarly rich hue
to her skin, while her features were of exquisite form; her eyes large,
and of a lustrous blackness.  On her head she wore a circlet of
feathers; her raven locks, parted at her brow, hung down in long plaits
behind her slender waist.  Altogether, Rolfe thought he had never seen
so beautiful a creature.  Though Vaughan could not fail to admire her,
the blue eyes and fair face of Mistress Cicely were more to his taste.
Fortunately for Rolfe, he had no difficult diplomatic duty to perform,
or he might perchance have been tempted to yield too easily, won by the
bewitching graces of the lovely savage.

The chief received the strangers with dignity as they advanced towards
him.  He had heard of their coming, he said, and gave them welcome.  His
wish was to be on friendly terms with them, and the people of their
nation, one of whom, a great chief he seemed and full of wisdom, was
even now his guest.  Rolfe, who already spoke the native tongue with
considerable fluency, replied, in suitable language, that he was
grateful to the chief for the words he had let fall; that his guest was
indeed a man of renown--his more than father and friend--and that it was
with the object of visiting him, as well as to pay his respects to the
mighty Powhattan, that he and his followers had made the journey into
his country.  The English had come, he added, with no hostile
intentions: the land was large enough for the natives and themselves;
and their desire was to live on friendly terms with all around them.  He
invited Powhattan to come to the town they had built and to judge for
himself.

The Indian seemed well pleased with this address.  "And now," he said,
"come with me to my home; such entertainment as I can give is prepared,
and my wish is that when you go hence you may say that Powhattan has
treated you in princelike fashion."

Rolfe now made further inquiries about Captain Smith.  The chief replied
that he was in safe keeping, though he acknowledged that he had not
hitherto thought fit to allow him to go abroad.

"In other words, he keeps him a strict prisoner," observed Vaughan; "we
must insist on his being forthwith set at liberty, or he may think fit
to detain him when we wish to take our departure."

"I will not fail to follow your advice," answered Rolfe, who then
turning to the chief, remarked that his heart yearned to see his
honoured friend, and that he begged he might without delay be brought
into his presence.

"My daughter, Pocahontas, shall conduct you," said the chief, after some
consideration.  As they proceeded on, he spoke a few words to his
daughter.  "He is in her charge," he remarked, "for as she preserved his
life, she demanded that he should be placed under her protection."

"I could not desire a better guide," answered Rolfe, bowing to the
chiefs daughter.  They had now arrived before a village composed of
houses of a more substantial character than those of the Indian villages
hitherto seen.  While the chief proceeded towards the largest, in the
centre of the village, Pocahontas, taking Rolfe's hand in obedience to
her father's command, led him towards a hut on one side, before which,
hatchet in hand, was a sentry.  Meantime Canochet drew up his warriors
on the open space in front of the chief's house, while Vaughan ordered
his men to halt also near the same spot, in the neighbourhood of which a
number of women were congregating with baskets full of provisions.

Each moment that Rolfe was in the company of the Indian maiden, he was
more and more struck by her beauty, her graceful carriage, and modest
manners and intelligence.

"You are the second paleface only I have seen," she observed, artlessly;
"your brave chief was the first.  I saw the gallant way in which, when
attacked by my countrymen, he defended himself, seizing one of our most
noted warriors and holding him before himself as a shield; till slipping
on the moist soil he fell, with numbers surrounding him.  Before he
could recover himself he was overwhelmed and bound, and led captive to
my father.  I felt horror at the thought that so brave a man should be
put to death, and such as would have been his fate had I not at the
moment our braves were about to strike, thrown myself before him and
prayed my father to spare his life."

"Bless you, lady, for the merciful act," exclaimed Rolfe, gazing at the
young girl with greater admiration even than before, "my friend must
bless you too, and my countrymen, when they hear what you have done,
will endeavour to show their gratitude."

"They can best show it by remaining at peace with my people," answered
the maiden, looking up in his face, though, as her eyes met his glance
of admiration, she turned them again to the ground.  She opened the door
of the hut; Captain Smith, who was seated on a mat on the floor, started
up, and on seeing Rolfe, sprang forward to meet him.

"I was sure that, should you hear of my captivity, you would not rest
till you had made every possible effort to rescue me," said the captain;
"were it not for this fair lady, your efforts would, however, have been
useless."  He took the hand of Pocahontas and raised it to his lips.
She smiled at the act of courtesy, so unlike any to which she had been
accustomed.

"She has already told me that she was the means of saving your life,"
observed Rolfe, "and I have been endeavouring to tell her how grateful I
and all those who esteem you feel to her.  She has now come to set you
at liberty, and the chief will raise no objection to your returning with
us.  Whether he gives us leave or not, we have determined to carry you
off.  I will try to induce him to accompany us; it will be of much
importance to get him to visit James Town, where he can see our houses,
and ships, and great guns, and other things wondrous to him.  It will
give him a proper notion of our power, and the means we possess of
defeating our enemies should they attack us."

Rolfe, as they walked through the village, explained to Pocahontas their
purpose, and by his descriptions of the wonders possessed by the English
he raised an ardent desire in her mind to go and see them.  The banquet
provided by Powhattan need not be described: it was somewhat of a
barbarous kind, though the viands were not to be despised.  Contrary to
the Indian custom, Pocahontas was present, seated on a mat near her
father, with Rolfe next her; while Captain Smith and Vaughan sat on the
other side.  Vaughan being unable himself to converse with the chief,
got Rolfe to tell him of the loss of their two companions, and to beg
that he would use his power to recover them.

"They must be far away by this time to the northeast, and though those
who have captured them own my sovereignty, they are wont at times to act
independently of me.  However, I will take steps to recover your
friends."  Such was the substance of the answer given by Powhattan.
Vaughan then reminding Rolfe of his main object in coming to the
country, begged him to inquire of the chief whether he knew of any
Englishman held captive for many years by his nation.  Powhattan replied
that rumours had reached him of palefaces having been seen in different
parts of the country, but that none of them having been brought before
him, he could not at present give his guests any exact information on
the subject; but he would on that point also, he promised, make
inquiries.  He seemed pleased at the confidence they showed him, when
they expressed their readiness to occupy a part of his dwelling,
separated from their men.  After the fatigues they had gone through,
they slept soundly.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

Although the object of their expedition had been gained, Vaughan's heart
felt sad as he thought of returning to James Town without his brother.
Powhattan had expressed his intention of accompanying the party, with
his daughter, to visit the English governor; no longer, therefore, were
difficulties or dangers to be apprehended, as no foes would dare to
attack the powerful chief; while his hunters would bring in an ample
supply of game.  Had Gilbert and Fenton not been missing, he would still
have felt that his great object--the discovery of his father--seemed no
nearer than before; for neither from Powhattan nor Canochet had he been
able to obtain any information about him.  Canochet gave him hopes that
Gilbert and Fenton were still alive, and would be recovered; but till
the appearance of the party sent in pursuit of their supposed captors
nothing certain could be known.

The chief having made up his mind to visit the English, was eager to set
off; he was attended by fifty of his braves, dressed in their gayest
costume; he marching, however, on foot, while his daughter was conveyed
in a litter, cushioned with skins, and canopied with boughs to shield
her from the hot rays of the sun.  Very different was her lot from that
of the other women of the tribe, who were, the Englishmen observed with
no little disgust, compelled to labour hard from morning till night,
while their lords and masters lolled in the shade and smoked their
pipes.

While Captain Smith marched in front with the chief, Harry Rolfe often
found himself by the side of Pocahontas, with whom in her own language
he managed to converse.  He told her of the wonders of the ocean, of the
mode by which the ships found their way across it, of England, of its
great cities, its magnificent palaces, its superb temples, its armies of
horse and foot, with their guns, dealing death and destruction among
their foes, and capable of battering down strong walls.  The Indian
maiden listened with wondering ears; for some time she spoke not, at
length she sighed.  Rolfe inquired what grieved her.

"That I can never hope to see the wonders you speak of.  Till now, I
thought my father the most powerful king on earth, and you have shown me
that our people are but children compared to those existing beyond the
mighty ocean."

To the latter remark Rolfe made, no reply, as he did not wish further to
wound the maiden's vanity.  "Would you desire to visit those distant
lands and see the wonders I have been describing?" he asked.

"I cannot leave my father and my people," she answered.  "But go on--
tell me more about your country--I will try to bring the scenes you
describe so well before my eyes."

Rolfe continued, as desired; and the Indian girl seemed never weary of
listening to him.  Thus, whatever others might have done, he found the
journey too speedily brought to an end.  The governor received the
Indian chief in a becoming manner, with all the pomp he could assume.
Banners were flying, music playing, and guns firing.  The sound of the
artillery especially seemed to affect the chief; and when he saw a shot
fired across the river strike a tree and tear off a large branch, he
lifted up his hands in wonder, and exclaimed, "Who can stand against a
people so armed?"

Vaughan had hastened home with a sad heart to break the intelligence of
Gilbert's loss to his mother.  At her house he found Captain Layton, who
had already heard through the forethought of Roger what had occurred.

"Do not be cast down, Mistress Audley," he said, after Vaughan had given
her the account; "we have certain notice from Gilbert himself that the
Indians did not kill him and Fenton when they were first seized; and the
savages well know that it will be more to their interest to preserve
their lives than to take them; and as they tell me that the great chief
who has just come to the settlement has no small power among the people
of this country, we may trust to his being able to recover them before
long.  I have much hope, also, that with his assistance we may at length
find your husband.  I had determined, on the return of my son, to sail
along the shore of the Chesapeake, and to make inquiries among all the
natives I can meet with.  Should Powhattan not be able to help us as we
hoped, I shall forthwith carry out my plan.  My two seamen have now come
back; I will question them afresh.  And now that they have seen more of
the country, they may be able to say whether it was here or elsewhere
they met with the poor wretch Batten: would that he had lived--he would
have helped us more than they have done, or are likely to do."

While Mistress Audley's spirits were somewhat revived by Captain
Layton's assurances, she received a message from the governor,
requesting her to act the hostess to the Indian princess just arrived
with her father.  This she could not refuse; and Lettice and Cicely were
well pleased with the thoughts of having the Indian maiden under their
care.  Accordingly word was sent to the governor that they were willing
to receive her as their guest.  In a short time Pocahontas arrived,
still seated on her litter, with Harry Rolfe by her side.  Mistress
Audley, with Lettice and Cicely, went forth to meet her, and taking her
hand as the bearers placed the litter on the ground, helped her to rise,
and led her into the house, followed by Harry Rolfe, who seemed
unwilling to give up the charge of the damsel even to them.  The
beautiful young savage, for such, in the presence of the English matron
and the two young maidens, she truly seemed, cast looks of admiration at
their fair features, and their dresses, which appeared to her of
wondrous texture.  Although they could exchange but a few words with
her, they were able with the assistance of Harry Rolfe to answer her
questions; and in a short time she appeared perfectly at home with them.

At length she asked whether they were Harry's sisters, and hearing that
they were not so was silent, looking up first to one, and then to the
other, and then towards Harry himself; and it could be easily seen that
her brain was busy though her tongue was silent.  A hut had been
prepared for the chief, suitable to his wants, though bearing little
resemblance to a royal palace.  He came the next day to see his
daughter, and appeared to be so well pleased with the treatment she
received, that he intimated to the governor his intention of leaving her
for a while with her new friends.  His proposal was gladly accepted, as
it proved his good feelings towards the English, and the confidence he
placed in them.  Captain Layton and Vaughan, with the assistance of
Harry Rolfe, had a long talk with him.  Regarding Captain Audley he
promised to make inquiries among the tribes of his nation.  While they
were speaking, the head of the party sent out to follow the trail of the
Indians who had carried off Gilbert and Fenton arrived.  He and his
people had traced them, he said, far to the north, when they found
themselves in the country of a hostile tribe, from among whom they had
great difficulty in escaping.  On hearing this, Powhattan was
exceedingly wroth, and threatened to punish the Annaboles, the tribe
spoken of, who owed him, he affirmed, allegiance.  Rolfe, however,
entreated that he would employ mild measures, lest the Annaboles might
retaliate on their two prisoners.  This information was on the whole
unsatisfactory.  Gilbert and Fenton might, it was hoped, be still alive,
but that they had been carried to a distance was certain, and their
recovery would be difficult, as Powhattan, notwithstanding his boasted
power, could, it was clear, afford them no assistance.

"It seems to me, Vaughan, that we must trust to our own strong arms and
mother-wit to recover the two lads," observed Captain Layton, when they
had parted from the chief.  "What say you, Roger?"

"I hold to your opinion, father; if we could get together some thirty
trusty fellows, and the means of carrying our provisions, we would march
from one end of the country to the other, and compel those knavish
Indians at the point of our swords to deliver up their prisoners,"
answered Roger; "we might then, perchance, fall in also with Captain
Audley, if he is, as I trust, still in the land of the living."

"Those `ifs' and `ans' are stubborn things," observed the captain.

"We might, however, manage to carry provisions on our shoulders for a
week or more," said Roger, "and thus be enabled to march for three or
four days inland from the shore, and back again without the need of
hunting, provided we could keep in the open country, and not get
entangled among forests or rocky defiles where our foes might pick us
off without our being able to reach them."

"I know not whether we should gain much by that, unless we could manage
to surprise an Indian village, and capture some of their chief men to
hold as hostages till they agreed to give up their captives.  These
Indians are very different to the cowardly tribes we have been wont to
meet with on the Spanish Main, as experience should already have taught
you," observed the captain: "still, with discipline and determination we
shall be able, I doubt not, to tackle them.  I like your proposal,
however, and as soon as we can get a crew together, we will sail up the
Chesapeake and try what we can do."

Vaughan, grieved by the long, though unavoidable, delay which had
already occurred, was willing to take part in any plan his friends
proposed, and they accordingly at once set to work to collect a crew for
the expedition.  They had, however, except the promise of good pay, no
inducements to offer.  Had they proposed an expedition to the Spanish
Main they would speedily have collected as many men as they required;
but as only hard knocks were to be expected, without the chance of
prize-money, those who would have had no objection to the two combined
hung back.  The captain at length, in despair, promised that if men
would come forward, and they should succeed in their enterprise, he
would take a cruise in search of Spaniards, and that the prizes taken
should be divided equally among all hands.  This offer was likely enough
to have succeeded, when a party who had been out hunting returned full
of excitement, with the news that they had discovered a vein of gold, or
as some said a mine, at a stream some six miles distant from James Town.
The news spread like wildfire through the settlement, and every one was
eager to be off with spades and pickaxes to gather up the golden
treasure.  The seamen who had engaged to serve on board the _Rainbow_
were among the first to be off; those who were labouring in the fields
left their ploughs; the few who had opened shops closed their doors and
set out, for there were no buyers of their wares.

The governor and admiral, and a few other officers, remained at their
posts.  Captain Layton, in very vexation of spirit, refused to go even
to look at the mines, declaring that "all is not gold that glitters;"
and it might be, after all, this seeming gold was no better than dross;
or that if gold it was, it would stay there till he had time to go and
fetch it.  Roger and Vaughan were of his opinion; indeed, neither would
have left those they were bound to protect, were it to prove as rich as
the mines of Peru and Mexico.  Some days had passed away, when some of
the explorers came dropping in, their backs heavily laden with sacks
full, as they said, of gold-dust.

"Mixed with not a little dross, I guess," observed Captain Layton, who
met Ben Tarbox staggering along under as heavy a load as he had ever
attempted to carry in his life.  "Let us see, let us see thy precious
gold-dust," he exclaimed.  Ben, letting the sack drop on the ground,
produced a handful.  The evening sun was shining brightly, and the dust
undoubtedly glittered.

"I have seen stuff like that before," observed Roger, who just then came
up, "and what do you think it was worth, lads?--not the pains of moving
from where it lay."

"They say it be gold," exclaimed Ben, looking somewhat aghast; "gold
glitters, and so does this."

"There the resemblance ends, my lad," observed Captain Layton.  "If no
better gold is to be got out of the mine up there than thy sack
contains, the settlers have lost many a day's work, and the colony is so
much the poorer; though, from all accounts, it is not seldom they have
thrown away their time before."

"Then what can I do with this sackful of stuff?" exclaimed Ben, who,
having unbounded confidence in his captain, fully believed what he said.

"Sell it to the first fool who will buy it of thee for what he thinks it
is worth," answered the captain, laughing.  "Make thy bargain when the
sun shines, though, or he may chance to set a low value on it."

Ben, it was supposed, followed his captain's advice, for the next day at
noon he appeared on board the _Rainbow_ without his sack, but chinking
some Spanish pesos in his pocket.

Captain Layton, as did the governor, the admiral, and Master Hunt, the
chaplain, warned those who returned of the utter worthlessness of the
stuff they had brought, but they were not believed; and the idea got
abroad that their object was to appropriate it, and thus to gain the
benefit of their labours.  Most of them, therefore, as soon as they had
deposited their treasure in such places of security as they could find,
set off for a fresh supply; while the boldest speculator proposed to
charter two or three of the remaining ships, and send them home loaded
with the precious dust.

The first addressed himself to Captain Layton, offering him a cargo for
the _Rainbow_.

"There are two reasons against accepting your proposal, good sir,"
answered the captain; "the first is that I have other occupation for my
ship, and the second is that I have no wish to become the laughing-stock
of people at home, should I arrive with a shipload of dust not worth
carting on shore."

Thereat Master Jarvis turned away, highly indignant, remarking, "Fools
know not their own interest."  The captain smiled, but replied not,
recollecting that to answer an angry man is but adding oil to the fire.
Master Jarvis was more successful with the captains of two other ships,
which, as fast as the toiling settlers could bring in their sacks of
dust, took them on board, the vessels being filled up with sassafras and
other woods, and a few small packages of tobacco, all deemed, however,
but of little value compared to the glittering dirt, as Captain Layton
called it.  There was no lack of volunteers to man the ships, as all
were promised shares in the proceeds of the cargoes.  Not till they had
sailed could Captain Layton obtain a crew for the _Rainbow_.  He
summoned the remaining mariners in the settlement, who, already grown
weary of tobacco-planting and digging, and their backs aching with the
sacks of dust they had brought from the mine, were ready for any fresh
adventure proposed to them.

"Lads," he said, "there are two things I have set myself to do: first,
to look for the honourable gentleman who has been held captive for many
years by the Indians; as also for his son and young Master Fenton; and
when we have found them, to go in search of two or more Spanish ships,
which will put more gold into the pockets of each one of us than will
all the dust you have just sent home."

It might be that the remarks of the governor and admiral, and more
especially those of Captain Smith, had by this time begun to open the
eyes of the settlers as to the real value of the said dust.  One thing
was certain, that had they devoted their labours to the production of
corn instead of to the digging and carrying of the glittering soil, they
would not have been so hard-pressed as they now were.  Those who had
come from the Bermudas recollected the ample supply of provisions those
islands afforded.  The good admiral, Sir George Summers, offered, though
now sixty years of age, to sail in the _Patience_, the stout pinnace he
had built, and to bring back a supply for the benefit of the colony.  He
asked but for a score of men to accompany him; a few faithful hearts
obeyed his call, and with the hopes of finding their wants speedily
relieved, the colonists saw that true knight sail away on his hazardous
voyage.  Alas! they were to see him no more; overcome by the hard toil
he had so long endured for the good of others, he had not long arrived
when he yielded up his brave spirit at those islands, which were,
rightly, for many years called after his name.

The appeal made by Captain Layton was not in vain.  Ben Tarbox was the
first volunteer, and others followed his lead.  "And what, Senor
Nicholas, are you not going to join us?" asked Ben of his old messmate
Flowers, who winced, Ben observed, whenever thus addressed.  "Art not to
be tempted by the prospect of fighting the Dons, man, and pocketing some
of their gold?  Thou canst speak their lingo, for I have heard thee talk
it in thy sleep."

"I have had enough of fighting in my time, and have come out here to end
my days in peace," answered Flowers.

"Thou wouldst end them with a better conscience by repenting of thy
misdeeds and doing a worthy act to prove thy sincerity," answered Ben.
His arguments, however, could not move his former messmate, who refused
to the last to accompany him.  Vaughan was doubtful whether he ought to
stay for the protection of his mother and sister and Cicely, seeing that
Captain Layton was going away, or to accompany him in search of his
father and brother; but the governor and Captain Smith promised to
defend them whatever might happen, and even Mistress Audley urged him to
go.  Captain Layton could ill spare one good man and true, for with all
his exertions he had been able to collect barely a sufficient number of
followers for his object; and Vaughan, though brought up at college, had
a strong arm and a stout heart, and he might, should the first part of
the enterprise prove successful, return to the settlement without the
necessity of sailing forth again to fight the Spaniards.

Thus the _Rainbow_ sailed down the river, under the command of Captain
Layton, with Roger and Vaughan as his lieutenants; and young Andrew
Dane, who had begged hard to be allowed to go.

In the mean time, the Indian princess, as the settlers called her, was
rapidly learning English and becoming accustomed to English ways and
manners; but the period during which her father had promised to allow
her to remain was drawing to a close, when he had said he would return
to take her back to her home.  Harry Rolfe was a frequent visitor at the
house, as also was Captain Smith, who owing his life to her, could not
fail to regard her with gratitude, if with no other feeling; but she was
in age compared to him a mere child, and might have been his daughter.
Still, when he came to the house, Mrs Audley had some doubts as to the
sentiments he entertained towards the Indian girl; nor could she
discover how Pocahontas regarded him.  Still, it did not become her to
speak to him on the subject; but when the story became known of the way
Pocahontas had saved the life of the brave captain, it was generally
reported that he would certainly, should Powhattan permit it, make her
his wife, and Harry Rolfe often heard the matter discussed.  The
governor was naturally well pleased at the thoughts of such an event
taking place, as it would, he hoped, secure the friendship of Powhattan,
and the active support of his tribe.  Harry Rolfe had at first been
struck by the unusual beauty of the Indian girl, and had become deeply
enamoured.  How matters would have gone had Lettice regarded him with
that affection he once sought, it is hard to say; but his cousin, though
she received him in a friendly manner, treated him, it was evident, with
indifference, and at length he was fain to acknowledge that his
happiness depended on making the Indian girl his wife.  Could he,
however, hope to win her, should his commander, the bravest and wisest
man in the settlement as all acknowledged, regard her with affection; if
so, he might yield to him who had the prior claim, and he would go on
board the first ship sailing, to make war on the Spaniards, or would
engage in any desperate enterprise afoot.

It happened that day that Pocahontas, who, though an Indian princess,
had the fancies and foibles of many of her sex, had taken it into her
head that she would be dressed as her companions.  Cicely's gown was too
short and somewhat too wide; and Lettice, willing to please her, dressed
her in the best she possessed; putting on her a hat with feathers in it.
Scarcely had the three damsels appeared in the parlour, when who should
arrive but Captain Smith, Mistress Audley coming in directly afterwards.
He gazed with more astonishment than admiration at the young Indian,
for the costume, though becoming enough to the fair complexion of
Lettice, sat but ill on the Indian girl, accustomed to the free play of
her limbs; its colour harmonising worse with her dark skin.  Forgetting
the progress Pocahontas had made in English, he said with slight caution
to Mistress Audley, in his blunt fashion, "You will spoil the little
savage, Madam, if she is thus allowed to be made ridiculous by being
habited in the dress of a civilised dame.  I owe her a debt of gratitude
for saving my life; but that does not blind me to her faults, and the
sooner she is sent back to her father the better for her, I opine."

"My daughter simply wished to please her, and it is but a harmless
freak," answered Mistress Audley, "though I acknowledge that her Indian
costume becomes her best."

Pocahontas, who had understood something of what was said, casting an
angry look at the captain, burst into tears--then, taking the hand of
Lettice, she rushed out of the room.

"I had no intention of offending her," said Captain Smith, "but her
manner proves that if she stays much longer here she will be spoilt."

"Heaven forbid!" said Mistress Audley; "our great wish is not only to
instruct her in English manners, but to teach her the simple truths of
the Gospel, that she may assist in imparting them to her benighted
countrymen, and for that purpose I would fain keep her here as long as
her father will allow her to stay.  Master Hunt is assisting us in the
work, which God's grace alone can accomplish, we being but weak
instruments in His hands."

"That alters the case," observed the captain.  "If you have any hope of
success by all means keep her with you, but let her not indulge the
fancy that a silk dress will enable her to become like an English maiden
of high degree."

Mistress Audley promised to follow the captain's advice.  Cicely put in
a word in favour of their guest.

"Well," observed the captain, "I leave it with you, kind ladies, to make
my peace with her;" and before Pocahontas returned he had taken his
departure.  Soon afterwards Harry Rolfe appeared; the agitation of her
feelings had brought the colour into the face of the Indian girl, who he
thought looked more lovely than ever, habited as she now was in her
native costume.  His eye showed this, if his words did not, and she
understood him.

"You would not laugh at me," she said, in her artless way, "if I were to
dress as your countrywomen; and such I wish to become;" and Rolfe told
her honestly that in his eyes she would be lovely however habited.  She
showed her satisfaction in a way he could not mistake; he left the house
convinced that her heart was his.  Soon afterwards, meeting Captain
Smith, he frankly told him of his love for the Indian maiden, adding,
"But should you, my dear friend, entertain thoughts of her, I am
resolved to quit the country and seek my fortune elsewhere."

"Stay and be happy with her," was the answer, "if wedding with one who
is half a savage can make you so."

Whereat Master Rolfe, thanking the captain from his heart, assured him
that so rapid was the progress she had made that ere many weeks were
over she would be fit company for the proudest dames in England, and
much more of the same nature; at which the captain smiled, and patting
him on the back, assured him that it mattered not, provided Mistress
Audley and her fair daughter, who were the proudest dames in Virginia,
were content to treat her as their friend.

So Harry Rolfe went back and asked Pocahontas in plain language to
become his bride, to which she willingly consented, telling him to let
her settle the matter with her father.  Harry Rolfe looked forward with
no little anxiety to the arrival of the king, who came at length,
attended by fifty warriors; at which the prudent governor, not knowing
how many might be behind, got all the men in the settlement under arms,
as if to do him honour, but secretly keeping a strict watch on his
movements.  He was convinced, however, that the king's intentions were
honest, the more so when, after visiting his daughter, he announced that
she had his full permission to marry the English chief, Harry Rolfe.  As
Master Hunt, after consulting with the governor, was willing to perform
the ceremony, the marriage took place before Powhattan quitted James
Town, much to the satisfaction of all the colonists.  The long harangue
delivered by Powhattan need not be repeated, nor need the replies of the
governor, Captain Smith, and the happy bridegroom.  He, being no
sluggard, had built a house for himself, to which he at once took his
bride.  Flags were hoisted, guns were fired, and the bell of the church
(hung to the bough of a tree, as there was no steeple yet built) rang
right merrily, and the people shouted till they were hoarse, believing
that from henceforth war with the Indians was at an end, and that they
might go on and prosper in the land.



CHAPTER NINE.

The _Rainbow_ was some time making her way down the river, and we may be
sure that Lettice and Cicely watched her till her white canvas was no
longer to be seen amid the tall trees which lined its banks; and that
Vaughan's eyes, at all events, as he stood on the poop, gazed back till
their figures faded from sight.  Roger was too much engaged in the
navigation of the ship to take more now and again than a hurried look
astern: he knew his duty too well to neglect it, even for that; for
there were shoals to be avoided, and sails to be trimmed to catch the
fickle wind.

Hampton Roads were not reached till dark, when the _Rainbow_ had to
bring up till the following morning.  A bright look-out was kept during
the night lest any Spaniard or other stranger might enter the harbour,
and, finding a solitary ship, venture to attack her.  At dawn, anchor
was weighed, and the breeze being fair, Old Comfort Point was rounded,
and the _Rainbow_ steered northward up the broad Chesapeake.  The lead
was kept going, for Captain Layton desired to keep as close to the shore
as prudence would permit; while Vaughan noted down each point and bay,
and the mouth of every stream and inlet they passed.

"Dost know the look of this coast, Ben?" asked Roger, as he saw Tarbox
gazing eagerly at the shore.

"Ay, marry do I, sir," answered the old sailor; "for we sailed up and
down it for many a league in the _Sally Rose_, and I thought when I came
to see it again I should not forget it."

"But you said the same when we sailed up James River," remarked Roger.

"And it is my belief that I once went up that also, with brave Sir
Richard Grenville in his pinnace; but I was somewhat mazed about the
matter, and when Nicholas Flowers, who had been with me in the _Sally
Rose_, said he knew the place, I thought I must know it too; but now I
come to see this coast, I find out that I was then wrong and am now
right," answered Ben.

"You hav'n't got Nicholas by your elbow now to prompt you, so keep a
sharp look-out, and be sure that you are right this time," said Roger.

"Ay, that I will, sir," answered Ben; "and every league we make good,
the more sure I am that I am right."

"I believe that honest Ben is not mistaken, and that we may have a
better hope of success than ever before," said Roger to Vaughan, when he
joined him on the poop.  The ship continued running on all day; but the
wind was light, and her progress, consequently, slow.  Towards evening
she brought up in a deep bay, in which Ben declared the _Sally Rose_ had
come to an anchor on her downward passage.  The next morning she
continued her course, and had run on with a brisk breeze for some hours,
when Ben shouted out--"That's the bay, sir, where Dick Sponson and I,
when we had Batten with us, found the _Sally Rose_, after he had escaped
from the Indians; it is three days' pull, in a heavy boat with the wind
against us, to the northward of this, where we took Batten on board.  I
should know the place again almost as well as I know Dartmouth harbour.
It was about six miles inland of that where our shipmates were killed.
If we sail on at the rate we are now going, we shall reach it before
noon to-morrow, always provided the wind don't head us."

This information was, at all events, satisfactory, and Ben was so
positive that Roger could not but believe him.  Ben added, that, to his
belief, a short distance farther on there was a river, up which the
long-boat might pull for many a league, and that he calculated it would
take them into the very heart of the country where Batten, according to
his account, had been.  As they sailed on, Ben, every now and then,
exclaimed--"I mind that point, for we were becalmed off it for the best
part of a day."--"Yes, that hill is just where I thought to find
one."--"We pulled up yonder stream to get a fresh store of water, and
had to pull down it again pretty quickly, with only half our casks full,
by reason of a party of Indians."

Thus he ran on, recognising all the main features of the shore.  The
ship, however, did not reach the bay he had expected, and, accordingly,
had to stand off the shore and bring up at night in a more open position
than would have been chosen; but, as the weather was calm, that mattered
not.  Early the next morning, however, the bay he had indicated was
reached, and some time before dark the ship came off the very spot where
Batten had been taken on board.  He knew it by the easy landing the
shore afforded, and by two tall trees which leant over one towards the
other as if affording mutual support.  The spot for which Audley and
Captain Layton and his son had been so eagerly looking was at length
reached; as, however, it did not afford a secure anchorage, they
determined to stand on in hopes of finding the mouth of the river into
which they intended to run and bring up.  It proved to be not more than
a couple of leagues to the northward.  Roger having gone ahead in the
skiff to sound, piloted the ship to an anchorage just inside the mouth,
where she could lie secure from any storms which might blow without, and
at the same time too far from the shore to be assailed from thence by
any hostile Indians; while her guns would enable her to defend herself
against any attack which might be made in canoes, should the natives
prove hostile.  It being now nearly dark, nothing could be done on shore
till the next morning.  The night was perfectly calm; the stars
glittering overhead were reflected on the mirrorlike surface of the
water.  The forest extending down to the shores of the deep bay in which
the ship lay formed a dark wall round her, from which, ever and anon,
came strange sounds; but no human voices were heard to denote that the
country was inhabited.  Still, a strict watch was wisely kept, for the
silence which reigned was no proof that the savages were at a distance.

Meantime, preparations were made for the proposed expedition; the
captain would willingly have led it, but Roger persuaded him to remain
on board and look after the ship.  "Half a dozen men, with you to
command them, will be of more avail than a score without you," he
observed; "we may thus take twenty with us and leave enough in charge of
the boat."

To this the captain at length assented, knowing well that he could not
move as fast, nor endure as much fatigue as his younger companions.  At
dawn the boat shoved off, each man carrying provisions for a week's
march, with a further supply in the boat, to be ready should they
exhaust their stock before they could return to her.  Twenty men,
besides the two leaders and Oliver Dane, were to form the expedition.
The rest were to remain in the boat.  Quitting the river, Ben Tarbox
piloted them to the very spot where he and his companion had received
Batten on board their boat.

"That is the direction from whence we saw him coming," he said, pointing
to the north-west; "and by his account he had been making, as far as he
could judge, pretty straight for the shore, as he had the sun, when it
rose, directly in his eyes, and he thus knew that he was holding on to
the eastward."

"Then we will march in the direction from whence he came," said Roger.
"On, lads!" he exclaimed, having given his last orders to the crew to
lie off the shore at anchor, and to allow no Indians on board under any
pretext till his return.  The forest was tolerably open, and the boat's
compass enabled them to keep the course they desired.  No wigwams were
seen, nor cultivated fields, nor did any natives make their appearance.
Now and then a deer started from before them: Roger and Vaughan were too
careful leaders to allow their men to chase the animals, lest the
natives might take the opportunity of setting upon them while thus
separated.  "Better empty insides than cloven skulls, lads," observed
Roger; "ere long we shall have a deer crossing our path near enough to
bring it down without the risk of being taken at a disadvantage."

The men, seeing the wisdom of this, marched forward without complaint.
Night coming on, they camped in the centre of a tolerably wide space of
open ground, near which, at a little distance, ran a stream from whence
they could obtain a supply of water, while the bushes which grew near it
afforded them fuel.  Here also they might hope to get a shot at some
animal coming down to drink, which would give them fresh meat and enable
them to husband their provisions.  Vaughan had often carried a
fowling-piece amid the woods and hills of Devonshire, and was the best
shot of the party; he accordingly volunteered to watch for a deer,
keeping near enough to the camp to obtain assistance if required.  It
wanted but half an hour to sunset, at which time animals were most
likely to come down to drink.  Oliver, also carrying a gun, went with
him.  But few trees or shrubs grew on the banks of the stream, which ran
foaming and bubbling over a stony bed, with rocks on either side.  As
the time was short, they had at once to select a convenient shelter: the
best they could find was between a rock and a thick bush, which overhung
the stream.  Here, leaning against the bank, they could command the
opposite shore, which shelved gradually to the water, as it did also
some way lower down.

Vaughan was beginning to get weary of waiting, when he saw a couple of
deer moving amid the tall grass and brushwood which covered the country
for some distance on the opposite side: Oliver saw them also.
Recollecting the way Gilbert and Fenton had been entrapped, he thought
it possible that the Indians might be attempting to play them a similar
trick.  The deer trotted forward, and the wind coming from them, they
did not discover their enemies, and reaching the bank, began to drink.
Vaughan and Oliver raised their pieces, and as the deer lifted up their
long necks, they fired together and both fell dead.  A shout of triumph
raised by Oliver brought several from the camp to the spot, who dashing
across the river, the deer were soon cut up, and several pieces of
venison were quickly roasting before the fire.

Their success encouraged them to hope that they might obtain ample food,
and be able to prosecute their search much further than they had
intended.  The sound of the shot, however, and their fires, might
attract the natives to their neighbourhood; and a very vigilant watch
was therefore kept during the night.  Somewhat to their surprise,
however, it passed away quietly, and the next morning they resumed their
march.  They were passing the borders of a thick wood, nearly knee-deep
in grass, when Roger felt his foot strike against a hard substance which
emitted a hollow sound, as it gave way before him.  Stooping down, he
rose with a human skull in his hand, white and clean.  He and Vaughan
examined it: the top showed a deep cleft.  Others at the same time cried
out that they were walking among bones.

"Some Indian battle has taken place here," observed Roger.

"That is no Indian skull," said Vaughan, "but that of a round-headed
Englishman.  The blow which killed him, it is clear, was inflicted by an
Indian tomahawk."

The men, who had been searching about, now brought up from among the
grass several other skulls, each one giving the same indubitable
evidence of the manner in which the owner had been slain.

"This must be the very place where Batten saw the crew of the _Sally
Rose_ slaughtered," observed Vaughan.  "It proves that we are on the
right track, and should warn us to be cautious in our advance, lest the
natives play us the same trick."

Further search produced altogether ten skulls, the number, it was
concluded, of the unfortunate party cut off.  Their clothing and arms
had evidently been carried away, the bodies alone being left as a feast
for the vultures and armadillos.  The incident was not encouraging;
Roger, however, quickly revived the spirits of his party by remarking
that all they had to do was to keep a watch on every side, and not to be
cajoled by any tricks the Indians might attempt to play them.

Having already provisions for a couple of days, they pushed on bravely,
and would have continued even longer than they had intended, had they
not unexpectedly arrived on the banks of a broad river, to cross which
without a boat would prove a difficult matter and a dangerous one,
should Indians attempt to stop their landing on the opposite bank.  They
agreed therefore that their best course was to proceed up the river, and
to borrow canoes, should they find them--as they had no doubt that it
was the river at the mouth of which their ship lay, they could without
difficulty return to her, provided they could find canoes of sufficient
burden to carry them; and if not, they might descend the stream by a
raft--no very hazardous undertaking to men such as they were.

It was high time to meet with Indians, and they hoped soon to do so,
provided they could establish friendly relations with them, for by their
means only could they obtain the information they required.  They
therefore marched on merrily, and having the river on their right, they
had now only one side to guard.  As the land was level and not thickly
timbered, they could keep close to the water.  As Batten had not spoken
about a river, they concluded that he had not been carried to the north
of the stream along which they were making their way, and that therefore
they must be in the neighbourhood of the district in which he had been
held captive.  As they had cooked the remainder of their venison at
their last halting-place, they judged it wise not to light a fire lest
they might attract Indians to their camp at night, who might at all
events disturb their rest.  Thus Roger and Vaughan thought they might
probably have passed Indian villages without being discovered.  They
came to two or three small streams, through which they waded, though the
water was above their waists, while Ben Tarbox carried Oliver on his
shoulders.

At length, however, another stream was reached too broad and deep to be
crossed in this fashion; a ford might exist, they thought, further up,
and they accordingly were proceeding along the bank when Roger's eye
fell upon a canoe hauled up on the shore some way ahead.  This would
afford them the means of crossing, they hoped; but on reaching her it
was found that she was formed of birch bark, that her side was battered
in, and that she was indeed little better than a sieve.  She was of no
avail, therefore, for their purpose.

The existence of a canoe in that place went to show that the natives
were not far off; still Roger and Vaughan determined to cross, as they
were unwilling to get farther from the main stream.  They set to work,
therefore, to cut down a number of small trees to form a raft.  While
they were thus engaged, Vaughan with his usual companion, Oliver Dane,
proceeded a little higher up along the bank in search of game, Roger
cautioning them not to go far.  In a short time Oliver came back, saying
that he had caught sight of an Indian in a canoe, spearing fish amid
some rapids which ran across the stream; but as the fisher had not seen
him, they might easily go back without being discovered.

"If we can avoid alarming him, and get him to come to us, which he may
do, by seeing only two persons, it may prove a favourable opportunity
for obtaining information," observed Vaughan; "we must proceed
cautiously, however, and I will keep out of sight while you make signs
to the fisher."

They accordingly crept along behind some thick bushes which effectually
concealed them from the person in the canoe.  At length they reached the
spot, whence Vaughan could see the fisher.  "Why," he whispered to
Oliver, "that is a young girl; but though hot dress is that of an
Indian, she appears to me, at this distance fairer than even the
Princess Pocahontas--a graceful young damsel, too.  See, she has struck
another fish, and is hauling it in.  Do you, Oliver, go and show
yourself on the bank; sing as you have been wont to do on board, and
beckon to her; it will calm any alarm she might be inclined to feel, and
she will come more readily than were she to see me."

Oliver did as he was bid.  The girl just then caught sight of him, and
as she did so, she laid down her lance and seizing a paddle, with a
couple of strokes sent her canoe out of the rapids into the smoother
water below them; then, lifting a bow with an arrow, drew it to the
head.  Just then Oliver, having found his voice, began to sing the first
air which came into his head.  The maiden stood balancing herself in her
frail bark, motionless as a statue, listening with eager ears to the
notes which reached her, then, slowly withdrawing her arrow, let it fall
with her bow into the canoe.  Oliver sang on, observing the effect of
his music, and beckoned as he had been directed.  She quickly understood
him and sinking into her seat, with rapid strokes she urged the canoe
towards the bank, her countenance turned with an eager and wondering
gaze at his face.  She came on till the bow of the canoe almost touched
the shore; then, standing up, she beckoned him to come down to her from
the top of the bank, when with another stroke of her paddle she brought
the canoe close to him.

"Who are you? whence do you come?" she asked eagerly.  Oliver knew
enough of the Indian language to understand her, though scarcely enough
to reply.  He pointed therefore down the river, intimating that he came
thus far in a big ship, though he said nothing of his companions.  She
appeared to comprehend him, looking up all the time eagerly as before in
his face; then she put out her hand close to his as if comparing the
colour; hers indeed was the lightest of the two.  Next she pointed to
her face, which though sunburnt, was not so dark as his.  Her
countenance showed the thoughts which were passing rapidly through her
mind.  At last she inquired his object in coming thither.  He told her
that it was to seek for some friends, white people, who were supposed to
be in that part of the country.  She stood with her finger on her brow
for a minute or more, as if meditating what to do; then, having made up
her mind, she took his hand and signed to him to step into the canoe and
sit down.  Oliver was a brave lad, and without hesitation he complied.
No sooner was he on board than with one stroke of her paddle she sent
the canoe away from the bank, directing its head up the stream towards
the rapids down which she had descended.  As she got near them she
handed him another paddle, and intimated to him that he was to use it in
ascending the rapids.  He had frequently paddled about in James River in
Indian canoes, and was therefore able to obey her.  On seeing this, she
uttered an expression of approbation.  Vaughan, who had watched these
proceedings with much interest, saw his young companion, and the Indian
girl paddle on till they had reached smooth water above the rapids, when
they darted away at a rate which quickly took them out of sight.

"He is a brave fellow to go thus unhesitatingly, and I trust that no
harm will befall him; he probably was afraid of frightening the young
damsel or he would have called to me, to ask my advice."  Such was the
tenour of his thoughts, as he made his way back to where he had left the
rest of the party.  Roger was highly pleased when he heard of Oliver's
courage in going thus alone with the Indian girl, and agreed with
Vaughan as to the motive which induced him to accompany her.

"One thing is certain," he observed, "that it will be useless for us to
continue making the raft, as we must either wait Oliver's return here,
or follow him up along the stream to the place to which the girl has
conveyed him."

Vaughan agreeing that this was the best thing to do, the men were
ordered to get into marching order.  After passing the spot near the
rapids where the Indian girl had taken Oliver into her canoe, the ground
became very rough, a high and rugged ridge making their progress, laden
as they were, exceedingly difficult.  Still, they felt bound to follow
Oliver, for the maiden's friends might not be disposed to treat the lad
as kindly as she might, supposing him to be alone and unprotected--
whereas the appearance of an armed band such as theirs was might overawe
them, and show them that it was their interest to be on friendly terms
with their visitors.  Vaughan and Roger leading the way, the men
scrambled over the rocks after them, keeping as close as they could
above the river, that, should the canoe return with Oliver, they might
not fail to see her.

Having at length surmounted the ridge, they found themselves looking
down into a broad and pleasant valley, watered by another small rivulet,
by the side of which appeared an Indian village and a considerable
number of people moving about, while a group, in the midst of which they
distinguished Oliver and the young girl, was collected in front of the
largest wigwam.  The principal figure was an old Indian, who by his
dress, and the ornaments on his head, they knew must be a chief.  The
girl was apparently endeavouring to explain to the old chief how she had
found the young paleface.

"They see us," cried Roger, as he and Vaughan with their men appeared on
the top of the ridge; "keep your weapons lowered, lads, we must do
nothing to alarm them.  Stay here, and I will go down and make friends
with the old chief--that fair damsel will, I doubt not, be on our side--
they will be less likely to be alarmed by seeing one person approach
alone."

As he was speaking, many of the Indians ran into their wigwams, and
brought forth their bows and arrows, and other weapons.  Those about the
chief, however, remained perfectly quiet, merely turning their eyes in
the direction of the strangers.  Roger therefore advanced without any
anxiety towards the chief, who stood waiting his arrival.  Going up to
the old man he took him by the hand, and explained in the choicest
language he could command the object of his, and his companions' visit
to that part of the country.  The chief replied that he had gathered as
much from what the girl had told him, and that he had heard some days
before of the appearance of the white-faces on their shore.  Roger
expressed his surprise at this, when the Indian remarked that they had
been seen on landing, and that their progress had been watched day after
day, but as they had done no harm they had been allowed to proceed.
"Our people are not fools," observed the old chief, "and we knew well
that the further you proceeded into the country the more easily we could
destroy you if we deemed it necessary."

Roger knew by this that the precautions he had taken had not been
useless.  His object being to win over the chief, he did not boast of
his power to resist the attack; the well-armed party on the top of the
hill would produce more effect, he knew, than anything he could say.  He
now turned to Oliver and his companion.  On looking at the maiden, he
had no doubt, from the form of her features and her fair complexion,
that she was of English parentage, though not a word of English had she
uttered.  His curiosity to know how she was thus living among the
Indians was very great; on this point, however, she could give him no
information.  She had lived always with them, and she believed that the
old chief was her grandfather; from the latter, therefore, only could he
hope to obtain an answer to his questions.  The old chief was, however,
evidently not disposed to reply to him; the maiden was one of their
tribe, and such she must always be, he answered at length; so Roger saw
that it would be wise not to press the matter just then.  He
accordingly, feeling satisfied with what the chief had said, asked if he
knew aught of a white man who had long been in that region, or of two
youths who had lately been brought thither.

"Wise men do not reply till they have time to consider the object of the
questions put to them," answered the chief; "if you come as friends, as
friends we will receive you, and give you the best our country affords.
You may invite your companions down into the valley, they need fear no
danger."

"It is not our habit to fear danger," answered Roger, "but we have
confidence in your friendship; when danger is threatened, we know how to
defend ourselves."  Having made this remark, which had its due effect,
he hastened back to Vaughan, and after a short consultation, they agreed
to accept the chiefs invitation, but to keep a strict watch, in case of
treachery.



CHAPTER TEN.

Oliver and the young girl were, in the mean time, eagerly endeavouring
to understand each other.  They had left the group and were seated
together on the bank of the stream.  Some new ideas had evidently come
into her mind; it seemed to flash upon her that she was of the same race
as the young paleface by her side.  She had never known a father, she
said, or mother, and the squaw who had more especially tended on her in
her childhood had as tawny a skin as the rest of her tribe.  Now and
then she talked with Oliver, but oftener sat with her finger on her
brow, lost in thought.  After some time she began to understand his
questions better than at first.  She replied that she would try to find
out what he wanted to know and tell him.  Oliver felt himself every
instant becoming more and more interested; he could not help thinking,
as he watched her varying countenance, that she must be of his own race.
Perhaps her name would assist him to discover the truth.  He asked,
looking up in her face, what she was called.  "Manita," she answered,
"does it sound pleasant in your ears?"

"Very pleasant indeed," he replied, repeating it, "I shall remember it
as long as I live."

The old chief received the adventurers in a friendly manner, and to
prove his good intentions, said that he would direct his people to build
wigwams for them on any spot they might choose.  Roger replied that as
he and his people were fond of water, they should prefer encamping on
the bank of the river, where the rivulet ran into it; his true motive
being that they should thus have only two sides to defend should they by
any chance be attacked; while they might also, by building rafts,
descend the stream into the main river and thus regain their ship.

The whole of the population at once set to work to supply the wants of
the white strangers, the men even being condescending enough to assist,
though the women were chiefly employed in bringing the materials for the
huts and putting them up.  The Englishmen, however, as soon as they saw
their mode of proceeding, greatly lightened their labours.  The rest of
the men went out hunting, and before evening returned with a plentiful
supply of game.  In a wonderfully short time a village had sprung up,
affording ample accommodation in fine summer weather.

After the Indians had left them, the young girl came fearlessly into
their midst, bringing the fish she had caught as her present to Oliver
and the two officers, for she at once distinguished them from the rest
of the men.  She had then a further talk with Oliver; she inquired
whether he would be willing to accompany her in her canoe up the stream,
and as they would have a long way to go, he must assist in paddling, but
no one else must accompany them, nor must the Indians or his own friends
know where they had gone.  There might be some danger, she confessed,
though it was not such as to make her hesitate if she could serve her
new friends.

Oliver, who liked the notion of the danger, replied that he would
willingly go.

She advised him to sleep soundly and to be awake two hours before dawn,
when he would find her with the canoe at the mouth of the stream,
beneath a high bank, from which he could easily step on board without
being seen.  "I will tell you more when we are away," she added, "but if
any one is awake and asks where you are going, you can let them
understand that you are about to fish in the stream, and my people will
not be surprised, as it is my chief occupation.  I have no pleasure in
working with the squaws, who have little love for me, because I am the
favourite of my grandfather, who allows me to do what I like."

Such, in substance, was what the young girl said to Oliver.  He promised
faithfully to obey her injunctions, and to be ready to accompany her at
the time she had fixed on.  He had some difficulty in going to sleep for
thinking of the expedition he was to make on the morrow, but he at
length succeeded in dropping off.  After sleeping for some time he
opened his eyes, and feeling broad awake, crept out of the hut, thinking
that it was time to set out; but as he could see the sentries at their
posts--for Roger judged it wise to place men on the watch lest the
Indians might play them false--he waited till the one next him had moved
to the end of his beat, and then keeping under the shade of the huts,
stole down towards the river's bank.  Moving on cautiously, he soon
reached the spot at which the girl had told him to wait for her.
Sitting down, he gazed at the stream which rippled by in front of him,
ere it joined the broad river on his right.  The murmuring of the water
as it sounded in his ears soon had the not unusual effect of sending him
off again to sleep.  He awoke with a start on hearing a gentle voice
calling to him.  Rubbing his eyes as he looked round, he saw the shadowy
form of the maiden standing up in her canoe, just below his feet.
Forgetting its frail structure, he was about to leap into it, when she,
observing his intention, exclaimed in a louder voice than she would
otherwise have used--

"Stay, stay, or you will break through the canoe, and put a stop to our
expedition."

Oliver, taking her hand, which she extended to him, stepped carefully
into the canoe, and seated himself at her bidding.  As he did so, she
turned the canoe away from the bank, and the next instant they were in
the broader river.

"We will first steer down the stream," she whispered, "and then cross to
the opposite side, lest any one should have seen us.  Take the paddle
you will find at your feet."

Oliver looked towards the shore, but could see no one, and felt
therefore satisfied that they were not watched.

"It is well," observed Manita; "we may therefore the sooner proceed up
the stream."

In another minute they were paddling away, Manita dexterously steering
the canoe.  Having got so far from the village that their voices could
not be heard, Oliver inquired the object of the expedition.

"You wish to gain news of a white man who has been long in this
country?" answered Manita; "when I heard what you said, I recollected
that two moons ago I had gone on an expedition up this river with two
other girls somewhat older than myself.  They took me with them to steer
while they paddled.  Their object was to run away from those they did
not love, and to hide in the forest till they could return with safety.
The river, though not very wide, continues on far, far away; and we
paddled on all day; and not till night did we come to the end of our
voyage.  They secured the canoe beneath an overhanging tree, whose
boughs afforded us shelter while we slept.  At daylight, leaping out of
the canoe, with their basket of provisions, and telling me to take it
back, but not to say where they had gone, they ran off into the forest.
This I had no fancy for doing--not that I should have been punished--but
I liked not to be deceived, and wished to know what they were about.  I
accordingly, instead of doing as they had bid me, followed their trail;
though I kept at such a distance that they could not hear or see me
should they look back.  On they went, till I began to grow weary and
hungry; they stopped to eat, but I had forgotten to bring provisions
with me, not supposing that they would go so far.  I lay concealed close
to them, till I heard them get up and go on again; then I knew that they
must be intending to go much further.  Fortunately they had left some
fruit and a piece of corn-cake, which had slipped out of one of their
baskets.  I ate it as I went along, afraid of getting far behind them.

"Leaving the forest, they went over hills and down valleys, and up other
hills; and I had great difficulty in concealing myself--indeed, had they
not hurried on without looking back, they must have discovered me.  They
now entered another forest; they were getting farther and farther from
me, and I was becoming more and more weary.  I was still trying to
overtake them, when I felt a sharp pain in my foot--a thorn had pierced
it, and sinking to the ground, I knew not what happened.  How long I had
thus lain I could not tell, when opening my eyes I saw a tall man,
dressed in skins, but his face was fairer than that of any Indian I had
ever beheld; his hair light and long; and on his head he wore a covering
of straw.  He cast a kind look at me, but I saw that he was as much
astonished as I was at seeing him.  Stooping down, he spoke some words
which I did not understand; he then addressed me in Indian, and asked me
who I was, and whence I had come.  I told him at once that I was the
grand-daughter of Oncagua, and that I was following some girls of the
tribe who had run away, begging him to tell me if he knew where they
were gone.  He replied that they were safe with those by whom they would
be better treated than they were by their own people.  My foot paining
me while he was speaking, I groaned, and he stooped down and pulled out
the thorn, when he bound up the wound with some leaves, fastening them
on with the fibres of a tree; then, seeing that I could not walk, he
took me up in his arms and carried me to a dwelling larger than any I
had ever before seen.  It was on the borders of the forest, surrounded
by a garden and corn-field; close to it, at a little distance was a
large Indian village.

"He asked me if I would be content to remain there till the wound in my
foot was healed.  I felt sure that he would treat me kindly, though I
wanted to go back to Oncagua, who would be mourning for me.

"To this the white man did not object, though he said that he should
have wished me to remain with him.  He watched over me with the greatest
care, and in three days my foot was well; and though I did not learn
that which I wanted to know--what had become of my companions--I wished
to go back to my grandfather.  I told the strange white man this, and he
would not stop me, he said, though he was loth to part with me.  I, too,
was grieved to part with him, for he had been very kind, and told me
wonderful things about the great God who rules the world, and One who
was punished instead of man, that man's sins might be forgiven, and that
he might be made friends with God, and go to live with him in the sky.
And he told me much more, but I could not understand it.

"When he found how much I wished to go back he said that he would go
with me as far as the river, where I had left my canoe; that he should
like to see me safely to my grandfather, but that he was bound by an
oath to the chief with whom he lived not to go beyond the river, and
that he could not break that oath, though it cost him so much.  He had
not allowed any of the people in the village to see me all this time, as
he was afraid that they might prevent my going away.  He set off with
me, therefore, very early in the morning, and as I knew the way I had
come from the place where he found me, I was able to lead him directly
to the canoe.  He was very sad at parting from me, and sighed much, and
made me promise that I would come back to him again if I could.  I found
the canoe safe, as no one had passed that way.  He asked me if I was not
afraid of remaining by myself, but with a laugh I told him no; that I
had often been out in the forest alone; that I would sleep in the canoe
that night, and be away by dawn in the morning.  Still he seemed very
sorry to let me go, as he wanted to tell me more of the wonderful things
about which he had spoken, and the happy country of spirits to which
good men go.  He said, therefore, that he would not leave me till he had
seen me begin my voyage.  We lighted a fire, therefore, and cooked some
birds which we had shot as we came along, and then when it was time to
go to sleep, while I lay down in my canoe, he climbed up into a tree
above me, and lay down among the thick branches, so that he could watch
me.

"It was just daylight when I heard his voice telling me that it would be
time for me to begin my voyage, after I had had some more food.  He then
kneeling down, prayed to his God to take care of me, and blessed me; and
then kissing my brow, helped to force the canoe out into the stream.  As
I turned my head several times I saw him still standing on the bank
watching me, till I could see him no longer.  As the current was with
me, I got back early in the day, before my grandfather and the other men
who had gone out hunting had come back.  None of the squaws dared to ask
where I had been, nor whether any other girls had accompanied me; so I
went into my grandfather's hut, and waited till he had come back.

"When he appeared, he was too glad to see me to be angry; indeed, he
never has been angry with me since I can remember, but has looked upon
me as above every one else in the tribe, so that I can come and go as I
like.  I would not say where I had been all that day, but the next I
told him of my long voyage up the river, how I had hurt my foot in the
woods, and had been helped by the strange white man.  On hearing this,
he replied that the white man must be a wicked magician; that it was he
probably who had enticed the other girls away; and that, perhaps, if I
went back, he would kill and eat me.  I knew that this was not true, or
why had he not done so at first, had he wished it?

"Since then, I have been longing to go back to see the white man; but I
found that a watch was kept on me.  When I heard you, however, inquiring
for a white man, I at once thought that the stranger I had seen must be
the one you were in search of, and I resolved to help you to find him,
being assured that he is no magician."

"I have great hopes that he is the very man we are in search of,"
exclaimed Oliver, after Manita had finished her narrative, which took
much longer time to give than it has to describe, seeing that she had to
repeat it in a variety of ways before she was satisfied that her
listener understood what she said.  She had brought a good supply of
provisions, and as Oliver hinted that he was getting very hungry,
somewhere about noon she guided the canoe towards the bank, where they
rested for awhile, and ate their food.  They then paddled on again with
renewed vigour.  Manita complimented Oliver on the way in which he
handled his paddle, and remarked that they were getting on much faster
than when she had gone up before.  It was thus some time before evening
when she announced that they had arrived at the spot where she had
before landed.  Having run the canoe close to the bank under a tree,
they secured it, and stepped on shore.

"We will take some provisions with us this time," she observed, "for
though I may kill some birds with my arrows, it will delay us to do so."

They set off at once, and made good progress before sunset, when, at
Oliver's suggestion, they both climbed up into a tree, in which he
formed a sort of platform, where she could sleep securely; he afterwards
making another for himself.  They set off again at dawn, and Oliver,
helping Manita over the rough hills, to which he, a Devonshire lad, was
well accustomed, they made good progress.  At last the clearing Manita
had described was reached, and they saw before them the white man
standing in front of his dwelling.

"There he is!" exclaimed Manita.  "Oh, I am so glad to see him!" and she
bounded on ahead of Oliver.  The recluse, for such he seemed, welcomed
Manita affectionately, but his gaze was turned towards Oliver.  "Who are
you, young sir?" he exclaimed, looking from one to the other of his
visitors.

"Oliver Dane, sir, from near Dartmouth, in Devonshire," he answered.

The recluse appeared greatly agitated.  "Speak, speak: with whom came
you? when did you reach this distant land?" he asked.

"I arrived here five days since, sir," replied Oliver, "in the
_Rainbow_, commanded by Captain Layton, with Master Roger Layton, Master
Vaughan Audley, and a company of twenty men."

"Vaughan Audley!" exclaimed the recluse; "is he with you?"

"He is with the rest of the party, thirty miles or more away down the
river," answered Oliver.

"And Mistress Audley, and her daughter Lettice--can you give me tidings
of them?" continued the recluse, before Oliver had finished his reply.

"I left; Mistress Audley and Lettice at James Town a week since,"
answered Oliver; "but, alack!  Gilbert and young Fenton were carried off
by the Indians, and we have come up in search of them, as we have of
Captain Audley; and, if I mistake not, sir, you are that very
gentleman."

"I am indeed so; I believed that I was long ago supposed to be dead,"
answered Captain Audley; "or that search would have been made for me."

Oliver then told him all he knew respecting the report brought home by
Batten.  "But how comes it that my son did not accompany Manita?"
inquired Captain Audley.

"She will tell you why she would only bring me," answered Oliver.
Manita's reply seemed to satisfy him; he then made many eager inquiries
about Gilbert, as to whom and by whom he had been carried off.  Oliver
gave him all the information in his power.  So interested had he been,
that he had forgotten to invite the young travellers into his house; he
now, however, did so, and placed before them an ample meal.  Manita
seemed somewhat puzzled how to behave, but looking at Oliver she
imitated him very well.  Their host frequently gazed at the young
people, as he plied Oliver further with questions.

"When will you come with us, sir?" asked Oliver, after waiting for some
time; "Manita is, I know, in a hurry to get back, and all will be ready
to welcome you when you arrive."

"Alas!  I cannot go thus far unless one who holds my pledge is ready to
set me free," answered Captain Audley.  "He may be willing to do so, or
fear of the white man's power may induce him to release me."

"I suppose, sir, you would not object to be carried off by force, if the
Indians will not by fair means let you go free?" said Oliver.

"As to that I shall make no answer, lad," replied Captain Audley; "I
wish by fair means alone to gain my liberty.  I have, though, another
motive for remaining: to search, with the aid of my Indian friends, for
my boy Gilbert and his companions, who have been brought, you say, by
their captors to this part of the country.  I will therefore bid you
return and invite the party to come up here.  Their presence will, I
hope, have its effect."

The recluse, or Captain Audley, for such it appeared that he was,
continued looking at his young guests; suddenly turning to Oliver, he
asked whether he had heard that he had a sister born some short time
before the settlement was destroyed.

"Yes," answered Oliver, "my mother had a little daughter named Virginia,
the first child born in the settlement, who was, my grandfather
supposed, murdered with her and my father on that cruel day."

"It may have been so," remarked Captain Audley, "but she may have
escaped; and the thought occurred to me when I first saw this little
damsel; for a child of white parents she undoubtedly is, though brought
up with Indian ways and manners; and when I saw you and her together and
heard your name, judging by your age, and on examining your
countenances, which strongly resemble each other, I at once became
impressed with the idea, that she was no other than Virginia Dane, and
therefore your sister.  There was no other child in the settlement so
young as she must have been when it was attacked, and none so likely to
have had its life spared."

Oliver looked upon Manita with still greater interest than before, and
giving her a kiss, told her what the white man had said, and asked her
whether she would wish to be his sister.

"Yes, yes," she answered, with a look of pleasure; "and you will come
and live at our village, and go out fishing and hunting with me, and
become some day chief of our tribe."

Oliver tried to explain that it was much more fitting that she should
come and live among the English.  At first she did not understand this,
and doubted whether her grandfather would allow her to go.  Oliver had
then to explain that the old chief was not her grandfather; possibly,
that he or his followers had murdered their parents, though for some
reason he had saved her life.  This seemed to make her waver; she
promised Oliver that she would consider the matter.

"You are too weary to return at once, my young guests," observed Captain
Audley.  "While you rest, I will go to the village that you see yonder
and seek out the chief Wamsutah.  I may be able to win him over to
assist in our object.  I trust by means of the influence I possess over
his mind, to induce him to aid in the recovery of my son Gilbert and his
companion.  He possesses more power than any chief of the neighbouring
tribes, Powhattan excepted; and should he learn where they are to be
found, he will not fail to obtain their release."

Saying this, Captain Audley took his departure, leaving Oliver and
Manita in his dwelling.  A considerable time passed, however, before he
returned.  Manita, overcome with fatigue, had fallen asleep in a corner
of the room, wrapped up in her cloak.  Oliver was too anxious to close
his eyes.  As he watched the features of the young girl, he felt more
and more convinced that the surmise of Captain Audley was correct, and
he thought of the happiness it would be to restore her to civilised
life, and of the blessing she might prove to their aged grandfather,
whom she might tend with a watchful care far better than he was able to
bestow.  At last he too dropped off asleep.  He was awakened by the
return of their host.

"Have you succeeded, sir?" he asked, eagerly.

"I have news of the two lads, who are many hours' journey from this, in
the hands of a tribe, alas! at enmity with Wamsutah and his people.  I
cannot hope, consequently, to communicate with them without much
difficulty, and must wait an opportunity, which I pray God to afford me.
I would have you, therefore, after resting here tonight, hasten back to
your people; tell my son Vaughan how I long to embrace him, but that
stern necessity compels me to remain here awhile, till the chief permits
me to depart with honour, and I can bring back the two missing ones.  I
do not advise Vaughan and Master Layton to come up here, lest they
should create suspicion in the minds of the Indians.  Let them be on
their guard against treachery, which this people look upon more as a
virtue than a crime; and if they can obtain canoes from the chief
Oncagua, or can contrive to build them, let them by all means return
down the river, which they will find navigable to the mouth.  They would
thus avoid many dangers through which they before unconsciously passed,
and regain the ship far more speedily than by land."

Oliver promised to deliver the messages he had received from Captain
Audley, who the next morning told him that he had provided two Indian
lads, his pupils, in whom he could implicitly trust to escort him and
Manita to the canoe.  Setting off, they safely reached it, and anxious
to arrive at the village before night, at once paddled briskly down the
stream.  It was dark, however, before they neared their destination, and
Manita proposed that they should land at the English village.  As they
approached they were hailed by Ben Tarbox from the bank, to whom Oliver
replied.

"Thankful to hear your voice, Master Dane," said Ben, as he helped them
out of the canoe, which he drew up on the bank.  "We thought you were
lost, and the old chief has been in a great taking about his
granddaughter, accusing us of spiriting her away, and well-nigh creating
a breach of the peace."

"We have not been on a fool's errand, Ben," answered Oliver.  "I want to
speak to our commander without delay, wherever he is."

"He and Master Audley are on foot, for we don't know at what moment the
natives may take it into their fickle heads to attack us," answered Ben.
"Here they come."

Oliver, followed by Manita, hastened to meet Vaughan and Roger, and as
fast he could pour out his words, he told them of his adventure.
Vaughan, prompted by filial affection, was eager to set off to meet his
father, but Oliver reminded him of the advice he had brought that the
party should remain at their present post, and Roger also giving his
opinion to the same effect, he agreed to wait further tidings.  They
might, however, be compelled to move for want of provisions, though
their present stock would enable them to remain some days longer, but a
small portion having been exhausted.  They had hopes, too, that when
Oncagua should discover that Manita was safe, his confidence would be
restored, and that he would be as ready as at first to supply them with
food.  Both Vaughan and Roger agreed that the likeness between Manita
and Oliver was very great, and they had little doubt that she was really
Captain White's grandchild.  Oliver declared that he had no doubt about
the matter, and already felt towards her as a brother for a sister.  She
by this time fully comprehended that she was of the white man's race,
and when Vaughan asked her if she would go back to Oncagua, she burst
into tears.

No, she replied; she would remain with her new brother.  The chief was
generally kind, but he might keep her prisoner or send her off further
away, when she could not return to her brother.

There might be truth in what the maiden said; and though they hoped, by
her means, to restore a good understanding between themselves and
Oncagua, they would not deliver her up into his power.  It was agreed,
therefore, that she should remain in the village during the night.

Oliver begged that he might go the next morning to the chief, and tell
him how matters had fallen out.

"A brave thought," exclaimed Vaughan.  "You shall go, and when the chief
sees you he will be convinced that you speak the truth."

Next morning Oliver set out, with his sword by his side, which, young as
he was, he knew how to use; but without other arms.  The Indians gazed
at him as he walked fearlessly on till he reached the wigwam of the
chief, who had just come forth.  In the best language he could command
he delivered his message, and then told him that he was the brother of
her whom he had so long nourished and protected, and that he came to
thank him for the kindness he had shown her; that she was now with her
own people, who heartily desired to be the friends of Oncagua and his
tribe.

The chief gazed at the bold youth with astonishment.  "Does she remain
willingly with them, or do they keep her as a prisoner?" he asked.

"It is of her own free will that she remains," answered Oliver.

The chief sighed; "It is true that her parents were palefaces," he said,
"but the heart of Oncagua yearns towards her, and he has ever regarded
her as his child."

"But our grandfather has no other descendants than us two, and his heart
will be made glad when he hears that the daughter of his only child is
alive," replied Oliver; "it may be that Oncagua remembers the chief of
the palefaces when they first settled at Roanoke, Massey White."

"He was my friend, my brother," answered the old chief; "it was for his
sake, in return for the kindness he did me, that I saved his grandchild,
and would have saved her mother had I possessed the means of carrying
her off.  Though I shall grieve to lose the maiden, yet willingly will I
send her to him to cheer his declining years.  Bring her to me; she need
not fear that I will detain her; but I will gaze at her once again
before you take her away with you to your distant home.  For her sake
you and your companions may rest assured that Oncagua will remain, as he
has ever been, a friend to the palefaces."

Highly satisfied with the result of his embassy, Oliver hastened back to
the camp.  After due consultation Vaughan and Roger agreed to allow
Virginia, if she was so minded, to accompany Oliver to the chief; should
they not do so, it might show want of confidence, and Oliver declared
that he would die fighting for her sooner than allow her to be carried
off.  She at first hesitated, but when Oliver told her what the chief
had said, she consented to accompany him.  Holding each other fast by
the hand they set out, no one even addressing them till they reached the
chief's wigwam.  Oncagua stood at the entrance waiting for them; he
gazed with a fond look at the young girl for some minutes without
speaking.

"Do you leave me willingly?" he asked at length, in a tone of grief.
She burst into tears.  "Had I not found my white brother, I would have
remained with you, and tended you in sickness and old age," she said,
"but now I desire to go where he goes, and to dwell with those of my own
colour."

"Go, my child, go, the Great Spirit will have it so--and when you are
far away, Oncagua will dream that you are happy with those of your own
kindred and race."  As he spoke, he entered his wigwam; quickly
returning with a small package carefully done up in opossum skin.  "Take
this with you," he said, "it contains the clothes you wore and the chain
you bore round your neck as an infant; it will prove to your grandfather
that you are indeed his daughter's child."  Taking the maiden in his
arms, he pressed her to his heart, and then placing her hand in that of
Oliver, told him to hasten back to his friends, as if he doubted his own
resolution to give her up.  The rest of the people, who had collected
from all sides, gazed on the paleface maiden and her brother, with
glances of admiration and awe, regarding them as beings of a superior
nature to themselves.

Vaughan and Roger were on the watch to welcome them back; they both felt
that they could not sufficiently thank the young maiden for the service
she had done them, and they wished to express to Oliver their sense of
his courage and boldness.

"I have done nothing that I should be thanked," said Virginia, for by
her rightful name they now called her; "I heard that you were in search
of a white man, and knowing where one was to be found, I took my brother
to him."

The object of their expedition, however, was not yet accomplished; they
knew that Captain Audley was alive, but he and their two friends were
still a long way off, and it might be a hard matter to reach them.  Two
days passed by, and they were becoming impatient, for as their stock of
provisions was now growing short, they must depend on the Indians for
their supply, and should they refuse it, they would be entirely in their
power.  Virginia and Oliver offered to make another expedition up the
river to communicate with Captain Audley, but Vaughan considered himself
bound to abide by his father's commands.  Roger proposed that they
should instead borrow the maiden's canoe, which still lay on the bank,
and send down to the ship.  Oliver at once offered to go, and suggested
that Ben Tarbox, who knew well how to handle a canoe, should be asked to
accompany him.

"Of course I will," answered Ben, "if it was six times as far.  We'll
find our way down easily enough, and if the navigation is clear, we'll
come back in the long-boat, and bring a good store of provision and
arms, and a couple of swivels in the bows in case we fall in with any
Indians likely to give us a taste of their arrows."

It was of course necessary to consult Virginia about taking her canoe.
On hearing that Oliver was going, she insisted on going also; she
understood better than any one else how to manage the canoe, and she was
eager to see the big ship and the good captain who had known her father.
So determined was she that Vaughan and Roger had to yield, believing
that with so careful a man as Tarbox she would not be exposed to more
danger than by remaining with them.  As soon as the arrangement was
made, she hastened to the canoe, which she examined thoroughly, covering
the seams afresh with a gummy substance, a lump of which she produced
from the bow.  She also found a third paddle, which, she observed, would
be for the sailor's use.  As the day was far spent, it was necessary to
wait till the next morning.  Virginia was up before daybreak, and
summoning Oliver and Ben, announced that it was time to start, that they
might not be seen by the Indians, who might perchance wish to stop them.
Vaughan and Roger with some of the men, came down to see them off.
Ben, who sat in the bow, had his musket by his side; Oliver paddled next
to him, and Virginia, who seemed to consider herself as captain of the
craft, sat in the stern and steered.  Their friends uttering a prayer
for their safety, they pushed off from the bank, and commenced their
voyage.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The young maiden steered the canoe in a way which excited Ben's warmest
admiration.  The roar of the rapids was soon heard ahead; not a moment
did she hesitate; onward sped the canoe, straight as an arrow.  Moving
her paddle now on one side, now on the other, she guided it down the
steep descent, the water bubbling and foaming, the tops of the dark
rocks appearing on either side, against which had the frail fabric
struck it must have been dashed to pieces.  Even Ben held in his breath
till they were once more in smooth water.

"Paddle on! paddle on!" she cried; and Oliver repeated the order to Ben,
who understood not her language.  A wall of trees rose on either bank,
above which the blue sky appeared, tinged with the light of morning,
though the stream down which the canoe sped her way still lay in deepest
gloom.  Every rock and sand-bank was well known to Virginia, who steered
steadily onward.  Gradually the stream widened, and the current ran with
less force.  Hitherto, scarcely a word had been uttered, except when the
young pilot directed her crew to cease paddling or to paddle on.

"How shall we be able to get up in the longboat?" asked Oliver, who
thought that he might at length venture to speak; "nearly as much water
is required as a man could wade through."

Virginia understood his explanation.  "There is another passage to the
left, where the water is deep, though the current is rapid, and strong
men can drag up such a canoe as you describe," she answered.

"Our men will not be prevented from coming up on that account, then," he
remarked, satisfied that the undertaking might be accomplished.

Sooner than he expected the canoe entered the broad river, at the mouth
of which he hoped to find the ship at anchor.  The sun had now risen,
his bright rays glancing across the placid water, which shone like a
sheet of burnished gold.  Virginia gazed at it with astonishment.  "I
can be your pilot no longer," she said, "for I have been here twice only
before--the first time the water was dark and troubled, and I thought
that I had reached the mighty lake across which the canoes of the
palefaces, as I had heard, sail from their own lands.  I came again,
when seeing the opposite bank, I knew that I was in another river, but
feared to venture far lest I should be unable to return against the
current."

"Continue to steer, I pray you," said Oliver, "Ben will act as pilot to
tell you which way to go, for neither of us can manage the canoe as you
do; all we have to do is to keep near to the shore on our right, and we
cannot miss our way."

Virginia seemed well pleased at the confidence placed in her, and Oliver
and Ben paddled on right merrily.  Though the river was so broad, there
still might be shoals and rocks or sunken trees; and Virginia kept her
gaze ahead, to be ready to avoid them or any other dangers.  The current
having less strength than in the smaller stream, the canoe did not make
as rapid way as at first; still, as they looked at the trees on the
right, they saw that they were going at a speed with which no ordinary
boat could compete.

As midday drew on, Oliver proposed landing to take their meal, but to
this Virginia objected, as there might be inhabitants on the shore, who
might come suddenly upon them before they had time to embark.  They
therefore took such food as they required, allowing the canoe meantime
to float down.  Virginia had not failed to look out for any canoe which
might dart out upon them, for, taught by experience, she knew that they
were more likely to contain foes than friends.  None, however, appeared.

The sun was already sinking astern when Ben announced that he recognised
the mouth of the river, and as they rounded a point, he shouted,
"Hurrah! there's the ship all right--we shall soon be aboard and
astonish them not a little."

They were hailed as they approached by the sentry on the forecastle, who
seeing the maiden in her Indian dress, knew not what to expect.  Ben's
reply assured him who they were, and Captain Layton and the rest of the
crew quickly gathered at the side to help Virginia upon deck.  She
hesitated for a moment; the huge ship astonished her, surpassing all her
imaginings.  On hearing from Oliver who she was, the captain endeavoured
by every sign he could make to show his satisfaction.  "Tell her," he
said to Oliver, "that I knew her father, a brave Christian man, and she
shall be to me as a daughter, so that she shall never regret the Indian
friends she has left."

He kissed her brow as he spoke, and she seemed at once to understand
him.  He then led her down into the cabin, round which she looked with a
gaze of astonishment at the numberless articles, so strange to her eyes.
"Tell her we cannot yet turn her into an English girl, for Cicely has
left none of her clothes on board, and they would not fit her slim
figure if she had," said Captain Layton, "but in the mean time she must
learn English, and when we get back to James Town we will rig her out
properly, and she will soon be able to talk her native tongue--though I
don't suppose she ever spoke much of it in early life."

The captain had, however, but little time just then to attend to
Virginia, as Oliver had further to explain the condition of the party,
and to beg that the long-boat might be sent up to their assistance.  As
she, however, had been waiting all this time for the return of the
party, it was necessary to send for her, and she could not arrive till
nightfall.  Oliver and Ben volunteered to go for her at once; though
they had been paddling all day, a few hours more work would do them no
harm.  Virginia wanted to accompany them when she heard they were going,
but this the captain would not allow.  Though, she seemed very unhappy
at parting from her brother, Oliver soothed her by assuring her that he
would soon be back; and slipping into the canoe, he and Ben set off.

"Well, I never was at sea in a craft like this before, its planking not
much thicker than a sheet of paper," said Ben, as they paddled on;
"however, provided the water keeps out, it matters little whether the
planking is three inches or the tenth of an inch thick."

They paddled on and on, keeping as close into the beach as they could
venture; Ben observing, it would not do to run the risk of touching a
rock or sandbank either.  The tide, on which they had not calculated,
was against them, as was a light breeze, so that they were longer than
they expected in reaching the bay where they had landed.  It was then
growing dusk, and as they looked towards the shore, they saw several
figures running down.  A musket-ball came whistling not far from their
ears; on this Ben shouted pretty lustily.  They paddled on as fast as
they could to the boat; she lay, contrary to orders, close to the beach.

"Pretty fellows you are, to shoot at your friends," exclaimed Ben.

"We took you for natives," answered one of the men, "and thought it
might be that you were coming to carry off the boat."

"If you had been where you ought to have been--on board her--they would
have found that a hard job," replied Ben.

"We were only stretching our legs, Master Tarbox, while we looked out
for the rest.  What has become of them?" asked the man.

"You'll have to stretch your arms now, mates," said Ben; "and I'll tell
you all about that as we go along."

The long-boat was quickly shoved off, and the canoe being fastened
astern, Oliver took the helm, and the crew gave way with a will, glad
enough to return to the ship.  Ben then told them that they would have a
much longer pull on the morrow, and as he hoped attain the object of
their expedition.  Such a trip, in spite of the hard work they would
have to go through, not free from danger though it might be, was exactly
to their tastes.

They reached the ship two hours after dark.  The captain had been
getting ready provisions and ammunition so that they might start at dawn
of day.  Virginia, surmising their intentions, crept out of the cabin,
and was on the watch, intending to go also.  Oliver had no little
difficulty in persuading her to remain, and not till he told her that
the great chief who commanded the big canoe would not allow her to go
did she consent to remain.  A light breeze blowing up the river, the
long-boat, with the canoe astern, sped merrily on her voyage.  Oliver
had taken care to obtain from his sister, as far as he could understand
her language, an exact description of the channel by which the rapids
might be avoided.  With a strong current against them, heavy also as the
boat was, they made much slower progress during the second part.  They
were still some way from the rapids when night overtook them.  Oliver
and Ben agreed that it would be impossible to attempt the channel unless
in broad daylight; they therefore secured their boat to the bank under a
wide-spreading tree.

Oliver, young as he was, knew the importance of being on their guard
against surprise.  Accordingly he and Ben searched round to ascertain
whether any Indians were lurking in the neighbourhood; he also stationed
a sentry on shore with orders to keep his ears open, that he might give
timely notice of the approach of a foe.  The night passed off, however,
without interruption.

"Now, lads, we must get up these rapids before the hot sun comes down to
make the toil harder to bear," cried Ben, rousing the men up.  "For the
next three or four miles the water is deep and free from rocks, as I
noted when we came down, and we may get along it in the twilight."

Ben was right, and, with the early light, the rapids came in sight
ahead; then, steering to the right, they found the channel Virginia had
described.  The depth at the entrance was sufficient to float the boat,
but it was too narrow to allow the oars to be worked.  The only way,
therefore, by which they could hope to get on was to land and tow the
boat up against the current.  This was no easy matter, as in many places
the stems and roots of the trees came close down to the water's edge,
while the wide branches formed a thick canopy overhead.  Still,
sometimes pulling, at others wading, and at others landing and towing on
the boat, they hoped by perseverance to succeed.  While thus engaged
they knew that, should any hostile natives attack them, they must be
taken at a woeful disadvantage.  The arms therefore were placed in the
boat, so that each one might seize his weapon in an instant, while two
men proceeded as scouts through the forest on the right to give warning
should a foe approach.  Thus, after an hour's toil they emerged into the
broad stream, some way above the rapids, when they were able once more
to take to their oars.

Oliver judged that Virginia had avoided this passage when they
descended, as the darkness in which it must have been plunged at that
time would have prevented her from seeing the way, while the danger to
her slight canoe from the roots projecting into the water and the sunken
logs would have been far greater than that from the rocks of the rapids.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

We must now go back to the moment when Gilbert and Fenton, anxious to
obtain some venison for themselves and their hungry companions, were
creeping along in the hopes of getting a shot at the deer they had seen
from the fort.  Having at length, as they supposed, got close enough to
the deer to make sure of it, Gilbert was on the point of firing when,
hearing Fenton cry out, he looked round and saw his friend, to his
dismay, in the hands of several Indians; while others, springing
forward, seized his arms before he could even point his gun towards
them.

It was useless, they knew, to plead for mercy; the Indians, indeed,
threatened them by signs with instant death should they cry out.

They were hurried on at a rapid rate till they reached a ford across the
stream, which ran as they supposed by their camp.  On and on they went,
six only of their captors remaining with them, while the main body
returned into the forest.

"They cannot go on for ever," observed Gilbert, "and as they must camp
at some time or other, we must then look out for an opportunity to
escape.  It would be a shame to our manhood were we to allow ourselves
to be held captive by six Indians."

"I am ready for any plan you may propose," answered Fenton, "but it will
be no easy matter to get free without weapons and with our arms secured
behind our backs."

"If they leave us together to-night, I will try what my teeth can do,"
answered Gilbert, "in casting loose the bonds which bind your hands, and
you can then render the same good service to me."

"I pray that we may have the chance," remarked Fenton, "though, when our
arms are free, how we are to escape from the lynx-eyed natives I know
not."

"That must be as opportunity offers," said Gilbert.

The possibility of escaping kept up their spirits, and they moved along
with apparent willingness in the direction the Indians wished them to
go.  They had thus made considerable progress before nightfall, when the
Indians halted in a small open space in the midst of a thick wood, where
they lighted a fire and prepared, as it seemed, to pass the night there.
Much to Gilbert and Fenton's disappointment, however, the cunning
natives placed them apart, one on each side of the fire, though they
gave them to eat some of the venison and dried fish which they carried
in their wallets.

"We must put a good face on the matter, and not let them suspect our
intentions," observed Gilbert.  "Let us sing them a merry stave.  It
will make them fancy we are thoughtless about the future, and they will
deem it less necessary to watch us closely.  No matter the words,
provided the tune is such as to take their fancy."

Thereon they struck up an air which they had often sung on board ship.
The Indians nodded their heads approvingly.  Next morning two of the
Indians went out hunting, and on their return with a small deer, shared
the flesh with their prisoners.  After this they travelled on as before,
and continued moving to the northward for two more days.  Every mile
they went they felt that their chance of escape was lessening, still,
like brave lads, they did not give way to despair.  They tried to learn
from the Indians what had become of their party; they understood that
they were on a war-path, but would ere long overtake them.

"To-night or never we must make our attempt to escape, Ned," said
Gilbert.  "I have heard tell of the cruel tricks of these Indians, who
only spare the lives of their prisoners at first, that they may carry
them to their villages to show them to their squaws, before they put
them to death with the most cruel tortures.  Such may be the lot they
intend for us, and such an ending is not to my taste any more than it is
to yours, I am sure."

"That it is not," said Fenton; "and if we can once free our arms and get
hold of our weapons, we may, at all events, have a brave tussle for
life."

Another night came.  Gilbert lay down some way farther off from the fire
than usual, and Fenton, pretending to stumble as he passed, threw
himself down by his side.  Their guards, taking no notice of this,
allowed them to remain where they were, while they set themselves to
cooking part of a deer they had shot during the day.  The Indians, who
had been ranging two at a time over the country in search of game, were
more tired than usual, and after gorging themselves with venison, lay
down to sleep, one only remaining on guard to keep up the fire.  He,
too, after piling on more wood, which, being green, did not blaze up,
sat down, and in a short time Gilbert saw him stretch himself at his
length, a loud snore announcing that he, also, had gone to sleep.
Gilbert had been gradually getting his head closer and closer to
Fenton's arms; he now in eager haste began to gnaw away at the leathern
thongs which bound them.  The task was not an easy one, and such as a
sailor only, accustomed to all sorts of knots, could have accomplished.
It was done at length, when, lifting up his head, he observed that the
Indians were still fast asleep.  Fenton on this, slowly rolling round,
with his hands at liberty, quickly cast off Gilbert's bonds.  To get
hold of their weapons was their next task.  Fortunately, their fire-arms
and ammunition-belts had been carried by the Indians who lay nearest to
them; they marked this while the fire was still blazing, and therefore
knew where to find them.  While Fenton crawled towards one, Gilbert in
the same way approached the other,--now stooping, now moving a few
inches, till he felt his hands on his weapon.  Fenton eagerly grasping
his sword, rose to his feet, and drawing it from its scabbard, pointing
Gilbert to do the same, made as if he would kill the sleeping Indians.
Gilbert lifted up his hand to implore him to desist just as his weapon
was about to descend, scarcely able to refrain from crying out.  Fenton
obeyed him.  He then signed to him that they must next, if possible,
possess themselves of the Indians' bows.  The attempt was a daring one,
but they so lay that they could be lifted without disturbing their
owners.  Though they could not carry them off, the fire would render
them useless.  And now, seeing how soundly the Indians slept, they
lifted them one after the other, and drove their ends among the burning
embers.  The Indians' tomahawks were in their belts, or they would have
treated them in the same manner.  Any further delay would be dangerous:
stooping down so that, should either of the Indians awake, there might
be less chance of their being seen, they made their way into the forest.
Should they keep to the south they might meet their approaching foes.
They therefore turned to the east, hoping thus either to make their way
to the sea or to reach the village of some friendly tribe.  Every
instant they expected to be pursued; but as they stopped to listen no
sound reached their ears, and they continued their course, guided by the
stars, of which they could occasionally catch sight amid the openings in
the trees.  Should they once get to a distance, they had hopes that the
Indians would not discover their trail till the morning, which would
give them a long start.  After going some distance they gained the open
country, across which they could make their way without difficulty.
Their spirits raised with the feeling of regained liberty, and the
thoughts of escaping the cruel death or galling captivity which would
have been their lot, they sped on.

Daylight at length broke; the rising sun now served them as a guide, and
they were pushing on with his rays in their eyes, faint from their
exertions, when they saw before them a broad river, on the opposite side
of which, with a wood beyond, appeared an Indian village, hitherto
unperceived.  Descending the hill full in view of the village, they must
they knew be seen.  Making a virtue of necessity, Gilbert proposed that
they should at once boldly enter the village and demand the hospitality
of its inhabitants.  A canoe lay on the bank: stepping into it, they
paddled across to a landing-place, near which already a number of women
and children and a few men were collected, wondering who the paleface
strangers could be.  Gilbert stepped boldly on shore, followed by
Fenton.

"We have come as friends," he shouted, "and our wish is to be at peace
with you, and with all the children of this country.  Conduct us to your
chief."

The bold bearing of the two youths and their good looks produced a
favourable effect on the gentler portion of the inhabitants, who crowded
round them, eager to examine them more nearly; whereat Gilbert and his
companion smiled and offered their hands, making every sign they could
think of to show their friendly feelings.  At this the women looked well
pleased, and inquired whether they were hungry.

"Indeed we are, fair dames," answered Fenton, making signs, "and
thankful should we be for any food you can bring us."

On this several of the younger women hurried to their wigwams and soon
returned with a supply of fish and plantains and several fruits, which
they placed on the grass in a shady spot under a tree before the
strangers, who set to with a good will, nodding right and left in
acknowledgment to their entertainers.  They had just finished when they
saw an old Indian, whom they knew by his dress to be a chief,
accompanied by several councillors, approaching them.  They rose and
advanced to meet him, Gilbert, who spoke the Indian language better than
his companion, shouting out that they were glad to see so renowned a
chief, whose friendship they desired to make.  The chief, who it
appeared had heard rumours of the fresh arrival of the English in the
country, supposing that they were to be followed by a large army,
treated them accordingly with much courtesy and respect, and assured
them that everything in his village was at their disposal, and that it
would be his pride to entertain them as long as they remained.

Thus far they believed that they were safe.  They, however, had fears
that the Indians from whom they had escaped might follow on their trail,
and come to demand them.  They therefore proposed, after resting, to set
out again, hoping in course of time to reach the sea.  The old chief,
however, though he made them welcome, had no intention of letting them
depart.  When the next day they expressed a wish to continue their
journey, he made the excuse that enemies were abroad who might take
their lives, and as they were his guests that the blame would rest with
him.  They had expected before this the arrival of the Indians from whom
they had escaped; but as another day passed by and they did not appear,
they guessed truly that the tribes were at enmity, and that their
captors had not dared to pursue them.  It was, however, probable that
they might be lurking in the neighbourhood, in the hopes of overtaking
them should they venture from the village; they therefore, with less
unwillingness than they would otherwise have felt, consented to remain,
hoping every day that the chief would send an escort with them to the
coast, which they supposed was at no great distance.  When, however,
they made the request to him, he observed that it was many days' journey
off, and that the inhabitants were enemies, who would attack his people
should he send them.  Thus day after day, and week after week went by;
and so strictly watched were they that they could find no opportunity of
escaping.  They were treated all the time, however, by the women as
kindly as at first; and the chiefs two daughters gave them to
understand, that, if they would promise to remain, they should become
their husbands and leaders of the tribe.  Neither Gilbert nor Fenton,
however, desired this honour, though they were too wise directly to
refuse the proposal.

Their captivity being light, they were tolerably happy, and would have
been more so had they been able to let their friends know that they were
safe.  At last, the chief confided to them the cause of their detention:
a tribe, between whom and his people an hereditary feud had existed, had
of late years always proved victorious, the reason being, as he
observed, that they had a white man dwelling among them, who, although
he did not himself fight, always directed their counsels; and now, as he
had got two white men, he hoped to beat his enemies, especially if they
accompanied him to battle, which he had made up his mind that they
should do.  On receiving this announcement, Gilbert and Fenton consulted
together as to how they should act.  Gilbert declared he had no wish to
fight any Indians who had not molested him.  As to that, Fenton thought
that there was no great harm, and that it was their duty to help those
who had befriended them.  "If the Indians go out to fight, and we are
compelled to accompany them, we may as well help them to gain the
victory, and bring the war sooner to a conclusion," he answered.  His
reasoning, however, did not satisfy Gilbert.

"Have you considered who the white man possibly is of whom the chief
speaks?" he asked.  "My idea is, that, if he has been among them for
several years, he must be my father; and, if so, I would never consent
to fight against his friends, though he himself were not in the battle."

"I should say, on the contrary," said Fenton.  "Supposing the white man
spoken of is your father, they must have detained him against his will,
and therefore, if we can conquer them, we shall be doing him good
service by setting him free."

The next day there was a great stir in the village, and warriors from
all directions came flocking in, adorned with war-paint and feathers.
The chief made them a long harangue, and informed them that his white
sons were going forth with their lightning-makers to assist them in
fighting their foes, and that victory was certain.  As Gilbert still
hesitated, the chief told him very plainly that go he must or take the
consequences; so, Fenton having agreed to help the chief, he resolved to
make the best of a bad matter.  He and Fenton also intended to try and
learn the whereabouts of the white man and to protect him, whoever he
was, from their friends.

The whole force which had been marshalled overnight set forth some hours
before daylight--not marching like an English army, shoulder to
shoulder, but following each other in several lines, each headed by a
warrior of renown, like so many snakes stealing along the grass.
Gilbert and Fenton followed in the march, one behind the other.  Thus
they proceeded across the country; the lines never interfering with, but
always keeping in sight of, each other.  At night they encamped round
several fires, a strong guard keeping watch over those who slept.  They
hoped, before the evening of the next day, to reach the territory of
their enemies.  The following evening, after a short rest in a thick
forest, where no fires were lighted which might betray them, they again
set forward, expecting ere long to come upon a village, which they hoped
to take by surprise and put all the inhabitants to death.

"I will not assist them in so horrible a butchery," said Gilbert; "but
perchance while they are engaged in it we may find an opportunity of
escaping and letting the white man know the danger he and his friends
are in."

The Indians now advanced more cautiously even than before, taking
advantage of all the shelter the country afforded till night came on,
when, after going some distance, a sign from the chief was passed from
line to line.  They halted in a thick wood, where they lay down, not a
word being uttered, Gilbert and Fenton following their example.  As they
thus lay in perfect silence, they heard human voices, the laughter of
young people, the barking of dogs, and other sounds, coming, evidently,
from the village to be attacked.  Soon the voices died away as the
inhabitants went to rest.  The night passed by, the Indians watching
eagerly for the signal to advance.  It was given about an hour before
dawn, when the band of warriors crept rapidly forward like tigers about
to spring on their prey.  Gilbert felt much inclined to fire off his
piece to give the doomed inhabitants the alarm, but he feared that he
and Fenton would lose their lives; and that the inhabitants, not having
time to collect for their defence, would still be put to death.  As they
approached, the lines separated till the entire village was surrounded,
when the silence of night was broken by a succession of fearful
war-whoops, and the warriors rushed forward to their work of
destruction.  At that moment, Gilbert plucking Fenton by the arm, they
bounded off, unperceived by the old chief or the rest with him, their
only aim being to escape from the scene of slaughter.  On they went at a
rate which would have made it difficult even for the Indians to overtake
them.  Day was breaking when they found themselves close to a river; as
they glanced for an instant back, they could see the flames ascending
from the burning village, round which the work of slaughter was going
forward.  As they could have done nothing to prevent it, it only incited
them to fresh exertions to escape from the power of the savages.
Happily the darkness would prevent their trail being followed, even
should their escape be discovered, which it was not likely to be for
some time, engaged as the Indians were; while, in the neighbourhood of
the village, it would probably be obliterated by the feet of the
inhabitants who might have attempted to escape.

By following the course of the river, they hoped to meet with a canoe,
of which they would not scruple to take possession.  If not, Gilbert
proposed that they should build a raft, to which they would rather trust
themselves, imperfectly constructed as it might be, than to the tender
mercies of the savages.

"For my part I would rather swim for it," cried Fenton.

"We might throw them off the scent by so doing," said Gilbert; "but then
we should lose our arms or damage our powder; let us keep that dry, and
be able to fight like men for our lives if need be."

"You are right, Gilbert," answered his companion; "you see we have clear
ground ahead, we may make play over it."

They bounded on across a wide meadow which skirted the river for some
distance, hoping that they might not be discovered till they had gained
the shelter of the forest beyond.  Never, probably, had they run so
fast; the hope of securing their liberty gave wings to their feet, while
as yet they felt able to continue their flight for many a mile more.
How many they had accomplished they were unable to calculate, but at
length they were compelled to stop for want of breath.  Throwing
themselves on the ground, they lay listening attentively for any sound
which might betoken the approach of pursuers, but except the notes of
the song-birds, and the harsher screams of the wild-fowl as they skimmed
along the banks, nothing could they hear, and after resting for a few
minutes they again, with renewed strength, sped onwards.  Still, as they
ran, they looked for a canoe, but none could they discover.

"We shall have to build a raft, after all," said Gilbert; "but no
matter, if it will float us we will manage to get down to the sea, and
then make our way along the shore till we reach the mouth of the James
River."

"Let us first get beyond the reach of our late friends," answered
Fenton: "it would not be safe to stop as yet, for, depend on it, they
will pursue us if they once discover our trail."

Gilbert agreeing with this, they sped on as before.  The country before
them was again partially open, here and there interspersed with clumps
of trees and copses, where the depth of soil allowed their growth.

They had just passed through a small wood when they saw before them a
tall figure proceeding in the same direction in which they were going,
but far more leisurely.  "Can it be an Indian?" exclaimed Fenton,
placing his hand on Gilbert's arm for a moment as they stopped to
observe him.

"He wears a dress of skins and mocassins; he has a quiver on his back,
and bow in his hand," observed Gilbert.

"Yes," replied Fenton, "but no Indian has his head covered with a hat
like that, and see, if I mistake not, he has a sword girded to his side,
such as an Indian never carries."

"Then let us overtake him," exclaimed Gilbert; "should he prove to be an
enemy, we are two to one, we need not fear him, although my hope is that
he is a friend."

"On, then," cried Fenton, and, setting off, they quickly gained on the
stranger.  Hearing their footsteps, he turned and faced them,
cautiously, as he did so, fixing an arrow in his bow.  The moment he saw
them, however, he withdrew it, letting the arrow fall to the ground, and
hastened with hurried strides towards them.  They now saw that he was
indeed a white man, with a flowing long beard, which made him appear
older than he really was.  He looked from one to the other with an
inquiring gaze.  Gilbert's heart bounded within him.

"Can it be?" exclaimed the stranger, as he stretched out his arms.  "Art
thou Gilbert Audley?"

"Yes, father, yes," exclaimed Gilbert, as he sprang forward, and the
next instant was clasped to the breast of Captain Audley.

"I had heard that thou wert far off, my boy," said Captain Audley, "and
little did I expect to see thee, and was even now on my way to obtain
the aid of some of our countrymen, who are not a day's voyage from this,
to rescue thee from the hands of those who held thee in bondage.  And
this is the son of my noble friend, Sir Edward Fenton," he continued,
stretching out his hand to Gilbert's companion.  A few words sufficed,
to explain how he knew all this.  Gilbert then told him of their escape
from the Indians, and of the probability of their being pursued.

"Then we must not tarry here longer," said Captain Audley, "though I
fear that my weary limbs will not carry me as fast over the ground as
your young ones have brought you along.  It were better for you to
hasten on rather than run the risk of being overtaken by the savages."

"No, no, father! having once found you, we will not desert you,"
exclaimed Gilbert.

"That we will not, sir," said Fenton, "though overtaken by a whole host
of pursuers, we shall be three to oppose them, while we may use a stout
tree as a fortress, behind which we may find shelter, and with fire-arms
in our hands, while our ammunition lasts we may keep at bay any number
who may come against us."

"We will rather strive to avoid them without shedding of blood," said
Captain Audley; "I have seen so much slaughter since I have dwelt among
these benighted savages that I pray I may live and die in peace, without
being compelled to draw another drop of blood from the veins of my
fellow-creatures--but on, lads, on, we must not longer waste the time
when relentless foes are following us, and sure I am that the savages
will not allow you to escape without an attempt to recover you."

Saying this, Captain Audley took his son's arm, and together they
hastened on in the direction they had before been proceeding.  Still, as
he had said, he found that he could not run at the speed at which they
had been going.  Both Gilbert and Fenton, however, endeavoured to assure
him that it was fast enough to enable them still to keep ahead of their
pursuers.  In this, however, they were wrong: scarcely had they
proceeded more than a league when Gilbert, striking his foot against a
root, stumbled, and as he recovered himself, turning his head he saw a
large band of Indians appearing above the brow of a slight hill they had
crossed half a mile or so back.  The cry he uttered made his companions
look in the same direction.

"We shall have to try your plan, Fenton," he said in a tone which lacked
not cheerfulness.  "Father, under your eye we shall fight with
confidence."

"We have time, at all events, to choose our ground," said Captain
Audley, looking round; "yonder tree by the river's bank will serve our
purpose, and at the last, should your ammunition fail, and my arrows all
be shot away, we may plunge into the stream and swim along it till we
gain the opposite bank, whence we can float down the current on a raft
till we meet our countrymen, encamped, as I hear, some leagues on--
though I know not their exact position."  This was said as they were
making their way towards a huge tree the roots of which projecting far
into the water, left the ground on the near side sufficiently smooth to
enable them to slip round it for the purpose of firing.  As they had
seen the Indians, they knew that they must themselves have been
discovered.  They had but little time to wait, for the savages with loud
cries were rapidly approaching, exhibiting on their spears the scalps
they had that morning taken from their unsuspecting foes, surprised in
the village.

Gilbert and Fenton quickly loaded and stood ready to fire directly an
arrow should be drawn against them.  The savages, however, having got
almost, within range of their pieces, halted, unwilling to expose
themselves to the deadly balls, of whose searching power they had so
much dread.  Gilbert, who lay sheltered by a high root, observed the
larger portion of them moving away to the left, evidently with the
intention of surrounding the tree which now afforded them shelter.

"The cunning redskins think they have us in a trap," he said; "but the
tree will still serve our purpose and those who approach will pay dear
for their boldness."

The Indians, however, still kept at a distance, though he caught sight
of them moving round the clumps of trees towards the east.  He and
Fenton stood ready with their pieces to pick off the first who should
venture near enough to be reached.  At length they appeared, advancing
under such shelter as the trees afforded, each Indian with an arrow in
his bow ready to shoot.

"Now," cried Gilbert, "my piece covers one of their chief men; have you
marked another?"

The Indians at that instant set up one of those fearful yells which they
use to intimidate their foes.  It was replied to by a cheer which could
come from none but British throats.

"Stay," cried Captain Audley, "we shall be saved without firing a shot:
here come our friends."

The Indians heard the cheer, and casting their eyes down the stream,
instantly sprang back to regain the shelter they had just quitted.  A
few shots were heard fired among the trees, which considerably hastened
their flight, though none were hit, and long before the boat pulling
against the current could reach the tree, every Indian on that side had
disappeared, while the rest were seen retreating at full speed towards
the hill over which they had come.  Captain Audley and his companions
now hastened on to meet the boat.  The first person who sprang on shore
was Vaughan, who knew him even before Gilbert had time to shout, "Here
is our father!"

They were all quickly on board, for though some proposed following the
Indians, Captain Audley urged them to spare those who could no longer
injure them, and might, he hoped, with proper treatment become their
friends.  Having greeted Roger and Oliver, and thanked them and their
followers for the exertions they had made to rescue him, he proposed
that they should forthwith descend the river and get speedily on board
the _Rainbow_.  He explained that Wamsutah had willingly released him on
his promise to send back a ransom.  Having stopped for a brief space of
time to bid farewell to Oncagua, promising him also a present to console
him for the loss of Virginia, they continued their voyage down the
river, the rapids, under Ben's pilotage, being passed in safety.

As may be supposed, they received a warm greeting from Captain Layton,
who declared that the satisfaction he felt at the recovery of his old
friend was the greatest he had ever enjoyed.  The _Rainbow_ was
immediately got under weigh, and without the loss of a single member of
her crew, and with the recovered ones on board, in addition to the young
maiden, she returned to James Town.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Words would fail to describe the meeting of Captain Audley with his wife
and daughter.  Mistress Audley, could tell her husband that she had been
buoyed up, not by false hopes, but by trusting One who orders all for
the best; and their hearts were lifted up in gratitude to Him Who had
seen fit to reunite them on earth; albeit, having the same blessed
faith, they had looked forward to a joyous meeting in Heaven.  Vaughan
soon after returned, and became the husband of Cicely; but Lettice had
to undergo another trial.  Captain Layton had to fulfil his promise to
his crew to go in search of a Spaniard, the object of his previous
adventure being accomplished.  He was not a man to swerve from his word,
although he would fain have remained at the settlement, and enjoyed that
rest which those advancing in life desire.  It happened one evening that
as Roger and Gilbert were walking along the banks of the river, they
caught sight of a small boat pulling rapidly down the stream, with two
men in her.  Directly afterwards they encountered Fenton.

"I have just seen that fellow Flowers shove off with another man," he
said, "and when I demanded where they were going, he would give me no
answer.  He has been holding correspondence with a strange Indian who
came up from the mouth of the river, and has since been trying to gain
over several of the ill-disposed in the settlement, for some object
which has not transpired."

"Then let us follow him," exclaimed Roger, "the _Rainbow's_ boat is near
at hand, and we may speedily overtake the traitor, if traitor he is."

They hastened on board the _Rainbow_, and wisely putting some provisions
and water into the boat, pulled away in chase of Flowers.  The skiff
possessed by the latter was a fast one, and though they pulled on all
night they failed to come up with her.  Sometimes they thought that they
must have passed her; if so, they hoped to meet her as she was coming
down at daylight.  Just as they were nearing Hampton Roads, they caught
sight of a stout ship standing out past Old Comfort Point, with the
skiff of which they were in search towing astern.  They immediately
redoubled their efforts; but before they could come up with her, the
breeze freshening, she stood away out to sea.

"That craft is a Spaniard, though she shows no colours," exclaimed
Roger.

"No doubt about it, sir," observed Ben Tarbox, who was pulling the
stroke oar, "and that accounts for why Master Nicholas was praising the
Spaniards.  To my mind he is half a Spaniard himself; I thought no good
would come of his beads and his crosses, his paters and aves."

"What; was he a Romanist, then?" asked Gilbert.

"As arrant a one as I ever set eyes on," replied Ben; "and, if he had
had his will, he would have liked to make us all Romanists too, and burn
us at the stake, as they did in Mary's time."

"He is welcome to his religion," said Roger, "but if he is playing false
to the settlement, he will have yet to repent it.  Lads, we must hasten
back on board the _Rainbow_, and go in chase of yonder Don.  If she has
any evil design, she will be hovering round the coast for some time to
come."

His proposal was received with a loud cheer, and the crew giving way,
the boat, aided by the flood-tide, pulled back to James Town.  The
_Rainbow_ was ready for sea, with the captain on board.  A short note to
Lettice, telling her that they had gone to catch the Don, and not
omitting such expressions of affection as his heart prompted, was all
Roger had time to write.  The breeze being fair, and the river now well
known, the _Rainbow_, under all sail, was soon rounding Old Comfort
Point.  She had not got far down the Chesapeake when a sail was seen
ahead, standing to the southward, which made Captain Layton and his crew
only the more eager to come up with her.  For all that night and the
next day the chase continued; but the _Rainbow_ kept the Don in sight,
and, ere evening closed in, ranged up on her quarter, firing a broadside
and receiving hers in return.

"We'll make short work of it, lads," cried the captain, ordering the
helm to be put to starboard, and running on board the Spaniard.
Grappling-irons secured her, and, led by Roger, the British crew were
quickly on her deck.  Among the Spaniards was seen Nicholas Flowers,
fighting desperately; but they could not long withstand British muscle
and valour, and, ere five minutes were over, the Spanish ensign was
hauled down, her crew cried for quarter, and the patache _Nuestra Senora
del Pilar de Saragossa_ became a prize to the _Rainbow_.

She was richly laden, with a large store of provisions on board; these,
with the best part of her lading, and all her arms and ammunition, were
transferred to the _Rainbow_.  The captain having no wish to detain the
survivors of her officers and crew, they were allowed to go on board,
with sufficient provisions to carry them back to their own country,
provided they were not captured by a Salle rover on their homeward
voyage.  The _Rainbow_ having seen _Nuestra Senora del Pilar de
Saragossa_ safe out of the harbour, with her teeth thus drawn, proceeded
up the river, carrying Master Nicholas Flowers and his companion, one
Dick Trunnion, who swore that he had been beguiled to undertake the
adventure by Nicholas, not knowing his object.  He, moreover, declared
that Master Nicholas was the very man who had piloted the Armada which
came so proudly to conquer England, dethrone the queen, and establish
the Holy Inquisition in the land; and that he had plotted to deliver up
the settlement to the Spaniards, who would speedily have committed all
the heretics who declined to conform to their faith to the flames.  On
their arrival at James Town, Master Nicholas was delivered over to the
authorities, and his guilt being proved, he was hanged on board a ship
in which Sir Thomas Gates shortly afterwards returned to England.  The
arms were claimed by the authorities; the rich lading of the prize was
divided among the crew of the _Rainbow_, the officers coming in for
their share.

"Lads," said Ben Tarbox, as the division of the spoil was being made,
"there is a young maiden whom we all know in the settlement, the
firstborn here, and the only one alive of our countrymen and
countrywomen who once dwelt in the land.  She is dowerless and
friendless, except her young brother and an old grandfather, who maybe
sleeps in his grave by this time.  I am ready to give half of my share,
and I invite those among us who have no kith or kin to give up such
portion of theirs as they may think fit; being very sure that it would
be thus better expended than it will be after the fashion many of us are
apt to get rid of our rhino.  Those who think with me hold up their
hands, and those who don't, keep theirs in their pockets."

Ben's appeal was liberally replied to, and no one refused to give a
handsome portion of his share to the fatherless orphan.

Meantime, Mistress Lettice had been labouring diligently to instruct the
uncultivated mind of Virginia, who rapidly improved under her tuition.
From no one, however, did she obtain so much instruction as from her
brother, who, during every moment he could spare from his duties,
devoted himself to teaching her.  Her astonishment at seeing the lovely
Pocahontas, dressed in the English fashion, and possessing far more
knowledge of English customs than herself, knew no bounds, and
instigated her to still greater exertions; so that, ere long, she
distanced the young bride in book-learning, if not in other
accomplishments.  Harry Rolfe, indeed, at length became persuaded that,
while his wife remained in the country, she would make but slow progress
in such accomplishments as he wished her to acquire, and resolved to
take her to England.  Mistress Audley warned him of the danger of
transplanting the flower of a southern region to a northern clime; but
he disregarded her admonitions, and sailed some months after his
marriage.  News then came of the admiration his young bride, the
beautiful savage, as she was called, excited at court; then, that she
had given birth to a son, and afterwards, that she and her husband were
about to return.  But, alas! by the next ship came the account of her
early death; though Harry brought back his boy to the land of his
adoption, regretting that he had ever left it.

Roger had for some time been rewarded with the hand of Lettice, but the
old captain, discontented, as many were, with the state of the colony,
proposed to return to his old home on the shore of Plymouth Sound, still
kept up by his faithful steward Barnaby Toplight.  Captain and Mistress
Audley, hearing of his intentions, the former especially longing to see
once more his native land, determined to accompany him.  Roger and
Lettice, though not weary of the colony, were unwilling to let him go
alone to a solitary home, and he gladly accepted their offer to return
with him.  Virginia had daily grown in their affections, and as they
felt sure that her presence would cheer the declining days of her
grandfather, they invited her and Oliver to accompany them, it being
settled that the latter should return after a time to Vaughan, should he
so wish.

The _Rainbow_ arrived safe in England; Oliver and his sister were
affectionately received by their grandfather.  From that day forward he
would scarcely part from Virginia, so completely did she entwine herself
round his heart.

"Ah!" she used to say, "I obeyed my Indian grandfather, Oncagua, from
fear; but I like to do what you tell me because I love you, and you are
so kind."

She little thought how firmly her image remained impressed on the stern
warrior's heart, of which he afterwards gave a strong proof.

Oliver and Virginia remained with the old man, who, however, worn out by
age and disappointment, died in their arms, tended dutifully by them to
the last.  Oliver had long desired to go back to the colony his sister
refusing to be separated from him, and her education being now
considerably advanced, they obtained the sanction of Mistress Audley to
return thither.  They sailed in the _Rainbow_, under the command of
Roger Layton.

While he was away, the old captain invited Mistress Audley and her
husband to stay with him and their daughter; a home they never
afterwards quitted, as Captain Layton dying, they lived on with Lettice
and Roger, who gave over the command of the ship to Fenton; for Gilbert
had settled with his brother in the colony.  Having established a home,
he persuaded Virginia, ere long, to become its mistress.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Some years passed away.  Powhattan was dead; the Indians appeared as
friendly as ever, but the tie which had bound them to the palefaces was
broken.

Several towns and villages had sprung up in various directions; some on
the banks of the river below James Town; others some way above it, in
the interior.  Among these was Williamsburg, which had been founded on
the spot where Rolfe and his party had been attacked by the Indians,
when by Canochet's timely warning they had been so providentially saved
from being cut off.  The whole face of this part of the country was now
completely changed; comfortable dwellings, orchards, gardens, and fields
covered the ground before occupied by the dark forest, while a bridge
was thrown over the stream, which was usefully employed in turning a
mill to grind the corn of the settlers.  Among the principal people in
the neighbourhood was Vaughan Audley, who resided on an estate about
three miles from the town, while Gilbert and his young wife had been for
some time established in a cottage close to Williamsburg.  Their old
friend Fenton never failed to pay them a visit when the _Rainbow_ came
to James Town to bring them news of their relatives at home, as also the
various necessaries they required from the old country.  They were, as
has been said, on the best of terms with the Indians, who came
frequently into the town, mixing freely with the settlers, often
bringing presents of deer and wild turkeys which they had shot, and fish
which they had caught in their streams, and those fruits which abounded
in their forests.  Even those who at one time had been looked upon as
enemies now took much pains to show the settlers that they wished to
live in amity with them.  Thus were lulled any suspicions the English
might have entertained of the natives, and they fondly hoped that they
were to retain peaceful possession of the country.

Virginia was seated with her husband one evening, when a dark form
appeared at the open door.  "Manita," said a voice, "one who held you to
his bosom when you were still a helpless infant comes to warn you and
him whom you love of a sudden and fearful danger.  Escape with me, and I
will protect you--remain, and your doom is sealed."

"Who are you, that we should thus trust you?" asked Gilbert.

"Oncagua," answered the Indian; "she once knew me; does she forget me
now?"

"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Virginia, starting up and grasping the Indian's
hands, which she placed on her head; "my ever kind protector; I should
indeed be ungrateful could I have forgotten you.  What my husband
desires, I will do."

"We thank you, chief," said Gilbert, "but we have friends here whom we
cannot desert; whatever may be the danger, we must remain and share it
with them."

The chief stood lost in thought.  "I understand you," he said, "you are
right.  I came to save her alone, but her friends must be my friends.
Tell them to be prepared for a sudden attack from the surrounding
tribes, or ere another sun has set not a paleface in the country will be
left alive.  I know no one I would entrust my message to, but have
journeyed night and day, across streams, and through forests, and over
hills to utter the warning.  Swear that you will follow my advice, or I
will stay and perish with you."

Virginia, knowing that Oncagua spoke the truth, entreated Gilbert to do
as he wished.  He no longer hesitated; and the old chief, taking another
fond look at Virginia, disappeared from the door-way.

Happily, Oliver Dane, who lived with Vaughan Audley, was expected that
evening to pay them a visit.  Anxiously they waited his arrival.
Virginia could not help fearing that the Indians might have attacked him
on the way, and Gilbert was equally alarmed for Vaughan and Cicely's
safety.

"I cannot leave you, dear one, alone," he said; "and yet there is not a
moment to be lost."

"Do not fear for me," she answered.  "Go and warn our neighbours,--
persuade them to put the town into a state of defence.  I will wait here
till Oliver arrives, and give him such directions as you may leave with
me."

Gilbert sat down with his hands on his brow, considering what steps it
would be necessary to take; for the lives of all the inhabitants of the
colony might depend upon his decision, should no one else have received
a warning of what was about to occur.  His plans were quickly formed; he
must immediately despatch to James Town and other places further off
bold and trusty messengers to induce the inhabitants to take proper
measures for their preservation; while he himself determined to collect
a body of friends, and to hasten as fast as their steeds could carry
them to the assistance of Vaughan, leaving Oliver for the protection of
Virginia.  It cost him much to decide thus, but he intended to try and
persuade Vaughan and Cicely to accompany him back to the town rather
than to attempt defending the house, which was ill-calculated to resist
a prolonged attack by the Indians.  It took him but a brief space of
time to arrive at this decision.  Hastily buckling on his sword, placing
his pistols in his belt, and taking down his gun from the wall, he stood
ready to set out.

At that instant Oliver, now grown into a fine young man, arrived.
Gilbert briefly told him of the warning brought by Oncagua, and
explained the measures he intended to take.

"Oh! let me accompany you to Vaughan's," exclaimed Virginia, when she
heard of his intention to go there.  "I shall be of assistance to Cicely
and her little ones, and I cannot bear the thoughts of being separated
from you at a time of such fearful peril."

"If she wishes it, I will place a pillion on my horse, and she can ride
behind me," said Oliver.  "I would far rather fight for my kind friends
than remain behind; and I doubt whether the peril to her will be greater
should she accompany us than should she remain behind."

To this Gilbert consented; and while Oliver went to prepare the steeds,
he sallied forth to find the principal persons, to whom it was necessary
to impart the information he had received.  Scarcely had he got ten
paces from the house when a voice, which he recognised as that of his
old friend Fenton, hailed him.

"You have, indeed, arrived most opportunely," he said, as he grasped
Fenton's hand; and then taking him by the arm, hurried him along with
him while he detailed what he had heard, and the proceedings he intended
to adopt.  "We want a man of courage and judgment to take command of the
town, and I can answer for it that you will do so.  People will obey
you," he added.

"In truth, I was on my way to tell you and Vaughan of a warning I myself
received this morning, on my arrival in the river, from our old friend
Canochet," answered Fenton.  "Scarcely had I dropped my anchor than he
came on board from the southern side and desired to see me privately in
the cabin.  He then told me that his tribe were friendly, but he had
just cause to doubt the Indians of Powhattan's country, and that
although he could not give me any definite information, he was very sure
a speedy outbreak was in contemplation.  He advised that I should induce
my friends to come on board the _Rainbow_, and to sail away immediately.
He quickly returned on shore, and I hastened to inform the Governor of
what I had heard.  Your messenger will, I trust, induce him to take more
determined measures for defending the town than he might otherwise have
thought necessary."

Captain Fenton's arrival was of great assistance to Gilbert in winning
his fellow-townsmen to a sense of their danger.  The chief magistrate
immediately sent round and summoned all the adult population of the
place to meet him without delay.  Letters were then despatched to James
Town and in other directions with the request that those who received
them would send on the warning to places further off.  Gilbert then
asked for volunteers to accompany him to the assistance of his brother.
Four only appeared,--indeed, the magistrate afforded no encouragement
for the men to go, wishing to keep them for the defence of the place.
Gilbert was in despair, when a grey-headed old man on a rough pony,
armed with a big gun, a cutlass, and a huge pair of pistols, came
clattering up to the council-house.

"What!" he exclaimed, when he heard Gilbert's last appeal; "are none of
you ready to go and help the daughter and son-in-law of my old
commander, Captain Amyas Layton?  And from what I hear, they and their
young children will be put to death unless a dozen or more true men are
ready to fight in their defence.  You all know me, Ben Tarbox,--some of
you knew my old captain, and have sailed with him, too,--I don't want to
weaken the defence of the town, but I ask for just a few stout hands who
will defend Master Audley's house; and when the Indians find that we can
keep them at bay, as I am sure we shall, they'll not think it worth
while to come and attack the town."

Ben's appeal was responded to by even more men than he required.  He
chose eight, which, with the four who had before volunteered, himself,
Gilbert, and Oliver, made fifteen, all well armed.  As they expected to
find four men at least with Audley, they would muster twenty--a number
sufficient, inside a log-built house, to withstand a whole host of
Indians.

A considerable portion of the night was spent before they were all ready
to set out.  Gilbert found Virginia and Oliver ready to mount, and
without loss of time they commenced their journey.  Those on foot were
hardy, active men, who could almost keep pace with their horses for the
distance they had to go.  Gilbert was vexed at the delay which had
occurred, lest in the mean time, eager to commence their work of
slaughter, the Indians might have attacked the house.  He and Oliver,
riding on either side of Virginia, accompanied by Ben and the rest of
the horsemen, pushed on, leaving the men on foot to follow as fast as
they could.  The horses' hoofs were scarcely heard on the soft ground.
They had got almost within sight of the house, when Gilbert caught sight
of the figure of an Indian running at full speed.  Another and another
started up.  It was evident they had been taken by surprise.  Gilbert
called to his companions, who dashed on; but the Indians turning into
the still uncleared forest on the right, were lost to sight.  Their
flight, and the hour they were on the road, showed that their intentions
were evil.

"They were probably waiting till the family should come out of the house
in the early morning to set upon them," observed Gilbert to Oliver.
"Thank Heaven we are in time to prevent their design."

Though anxious to place Virginia in safety, he was doubting whether,
with the enemy so close at hand, it was not his duty to wait for the
rest of the party on foot.

"No, no, Master Gilbert; you go on and get the young lady safe inside
the house, and I'll trot back and let our friends know that there are
Indians abroad, so that they may not be taken by surprise," cried Ben,
who, not waiting for an answer, set off at once; while Gilbert and the
rest of the horsemen galloped on, closely surrounding Virginia, till
they reached the front of Vaughan's house.  Gilbert's shouts quickly
awakened Vaughan, who, recognising his brother's voice, hastened down to
the door.  In a few words Gilbert explained the reason of their coming
to his brother, who having had no suspicions of the Indians, confessed
that he should have admitted them into the house without hesitation.
The appearance of the Indians in the neighbourhood decided him on
remaining to defend his house, instead of seeking for protection in the
town, as Gilbert had at first proposed.  The horses were immediately
taken round to the back of the house, and, as they would certainly be
killed if left in the stables, they were all brought inside and placed
in an unfurnished room.

"I am indeed grateful to you, my brave sister-in-law, for thus coming to
my help," exclaimed Cicely, as she embraced Virginia.

Vaughan and Gilbert, with the other gentlemen, and the labourers who had
slept in the house, immediately set to work to block up all the lower
windows and doors, only leaving sufficient loopholes for their muskets.
Every receptacle they possessed for holding water was also filled from
the well, both to afford them the means of quenching their thirst and to
enable them to extinguish any fire which might burst forth.  While they
were thus employed, Ben's voice was heard announcing the arrival of
himself and the party on foot, who were at once admitted at the back
entrance.  To prevent the Indians from finding shelter in the outhouses,
they were, under Ben's superintendence, quickly pulled down, the
materials enabling them still further to fortify the house.

Daylight found them still busily occupied.  The fact of their not being
as yet attacked convinced them that it was but a small party of Indians
they had surprised; probably they, however, would summon a larger body,
should they have determined to attack the house.  The garrison were
anxious to ascertain if their foes were near; but the stealthy way in
which the Indians are accustomed to approach an enemy made it dangerous
to send out scouts, who would almost to a certainty have been cut off.
Oliver and Gilbert, however, took post by turns on the roof, whence they
could obtain a view round on every side, and get sight of the Indians
should they draw near.

The morning passed away in perfect quiet; the hour indicated by Oncagua
was approaching,--Gilbert only hoped that other places were as well
prepared as they were.  Dinner had been partaken of, and most of the
men, who had been up all night, were lying down to obtain the rest they
needed, when Oliver, looking through a trap which opened on the roof,
exclaimed, "They are coming!"

The next instant the word was passed through the lower rooms,--the men
sprang to their feet, and each one hastened to his appointed post.  They
had not long to wait, for issuing from the border of the forest appeared
a large band of Indians adorned with war-paint and feathers.

"I only wish we had one of the _Rainbow's_ guns mounted on the roof, and
we'd pretty soon make those fellows put about ship," exclaimed Ben, when
he saw them.  It was almost impossible to count the Indians as they
spread out on either hand, but Gilbert calculated that there were at
least several hundreds of them.  Trusting to their numbers, they came on
fearlessly, uttering their dreadful war-whoops.

"Wait till I give the order to fire," cried Gilbert, who, at Vaughan's
request, had taken command.  "Let not a shot be thrown away, nor a word
be spoken."

The Indians came on, again and again uttering those terrific whoops, but
no reply was made.  They might have supposed that the house was
untenanted; still they advanced till they got within range of the
garrison's fire-arms.

"Go back whence you came, or advance at your peril," shouted Gilbert.

The Indians replied by a shower of arrows.

"Now fire, my lads," cried Gilbert, and all the men having collected on
one side, discharged a volley which brought well nigh a score of Indians
to the ground.  The rest wavered, though they did not fly.  Time was
thus afforded to the garrison to reload, and another volley almost as
destructive as the first was fired.  Many sprang back and gazed around
with looks of astonishment, supposing that the defenders of the house
were twice as numerous as was the case.  Still, urged on by their
chiefs, they discharged another flight of arrows, but, shot at random,
they caused no injury.  Gilbert again ordered his men to fire, but the
Indians, as they looked round and saw so many of their tribe struck down
on the ground, were seized with a panic, and as the bullets again flew
among them, they turned and fled.

Some of the party proposed mounting their horses and following them up,
but Gilbert advised that they should retain their advantageous post, as
it was probable that the Indians would rally and return to the attack.
They had, however, received a lesson not easily forgotten, and where
they had expected to overcome a few unprepared people, they had met with
a determined resistance.  Great reason had Gilbert to be thankful to
Oncagua for his timely warning.  A vigilant watch was kept during the
night, but no enemy appeared.

The next morning one of their party volunteered to set off to the town,
and in a short time he came back with the intelligence that it had been
assailed by the enemy, who had been driven back with great slaughter.
James Town in the same way had been preserved; but in a few days sad
news came from the remote ones, where, before the messengers arrived the
Indians had begun to put into execution the sanguinary plan they had
conceived for the destruction of all the palefaces in the country, and
several hundreds were massacred.  More ships arriving shortly afterwards
with fresh settlers, a fearful retribution overtook the Indians, and the
country which once they called their own knows them no more.

Gilbert, grateful to the old chief for the service he had rendered,
despatched Oliver Dane at the head of an expedition by water to invite
him to James Town, where he might be safe from the vengeance of his
countrymen, should they discover that he had warned the English of their
intended treachery.  Oliver returned in two weeks, bringing Oncagua with
him.  "The old chief has come, at your call," he said, "though my days
on earth are few; but ere I go, I would gain more of the wonderful
knowledge which changed my Manita into what I now see her; and that,
more than the fear of my foes, induced me to accept your invitation."

From that day forward Oncagua seldom went beyond the house and
surrounding garden.  He gained, however, knowledge he did not seek, for
Virginia, aided by Cicely, laboured diligently to instruct him in the
truths of the Gospel, and ere he was summoned from earth he could
exclaim with confidence "I know that my Redeemer liveth."

The trials and dangers through which our various friends had gone, had
taught them also an important lesson, to put their trust in their loving
Father, all mighty to save, and gratefully to acknowledge from their own
experience that whatsoever He orders is for the best.

THE END.