CHAPTER II
“Here, man, rip up this panting breast of mine,
And take my heart in rescue of my friends.”
—Marlowe, in Edward the Second.
On the fourth night after the ships’ arrival, the colonists and Hatteras Indians, all of whom, at Vytal’s command, had come from Croatan, congressed near the fortress of Roanoke. In the centre of the square a camp-fire of great logs and dried branches roared and crackled cheerfully, while encircling the blaze sat red men and white, some half prone in sleep, others upright and talking. Somewhat apart from the main gathering, and just beyond range of the firelight, were Vytal and Manteo, while, midway between them and a number of sleeping soldiers, sat Virginia Dare and her Indian comrade. Not far away lay Hugh Rouse, sprawled near the outer border of embers, and snoring loudly, while next to him sat Roger Prat, blinking at the fire. In the fortress most of the women and children, under Dyonis Harvie’s protection, were slumbering peacefully, while Dyonis himself sat yawning in the doorway. Each of the three entrances to the town was guarded by one or more pickets, well armed. At the northern gateway, which led to Vytal’s cabin, a single sentry stood alert; at the southern and nearest, by which Eleanor had made egress that night when Frazer and Towaye had captured her, another soldier kept careful watch; at the main portal on the eastern side two sentinels paced to and fro with muskets loaded. Furthermore, a body of twelve arquebusiers lay far below on the beach, to make sure that from the Spanish ships no landing was attempted.
To trade at night, or leave the town without Vytal’s permission, was forbidden. And perhaps only one person at Roanoke rebelled inwardly against the latter restriction. This was Virginia Dare, whose nature demanded absolute freedom. “Oh, tell me, Dark Eye,” she said, as the silence and bondage became unbearable, “why are we compelled to remain here like prisoners?”
“It is the will of our father, the Wolf,” replied the Indian. “He seeks to protect his children.”
She made an impatient gesture. “Come, Dark Eye, let us ask Roger Prat if we may not go down to the sea for another shell and for my father. Dost know he strangely disappeared to-day and has not been seen again?”
“Thy father disappeared?” exclaimed the Indian.
“Yes, within the forest. But come!” and together they joined the soldier. “Goodman Prat, I pray you give us liberty. Not all the armies of the world can find us an we hide. There are caves, ravines, arbors—”
“Yes,” interposed Prat, dreamily, “arbors, grape-arbors.”
“Come,” she persisted, “take us past the centronel.”
With a jerk of his head, as though awaking from reverie, Roger looked up at her. “Nay, White Doe, it is impossible. Will you not sit here and comfort me? I am depressed.”
Poutingly, she granted his request, and, patting the grass beside her, indicated an adjacent seat for the Indian. “How now, Roger?” said she. “Why so glum and owlish? Is ’t because your friend King Lud is absent?”
For a moment Prat surveyed her in silence, rolling his eyes, until at length, “Nay,” he replied, “I am well accustomed to his Majesty’s peregrinations. Oftentimes for a whole week he roves, and never a sight of him. ’Tis but three days now since he went a-nutting. Nay, nay, ’tis not o’ the bear I think—not o’ the bear.”
“Of what, then?”
But, giving no answer, he only blinked and blinked at the fire, so mournfully that many, noticing his look, long remembered it.
Vytal watched him silently.
“He hath even forgot,” observed Manteo, “to smoke his pipe of uppowac.”
The soldier made no response, but asked, finally: “Art sleepy, Manteo?”
“Nay, most wakeful.”
“I, too, am so; but sith for two nights no sleep hath come to me, ’tis essential that I rest. Do you keep watch, and, if aught occurs beyond the ordinary, arouse me instantly.” Whereupon, stretching himself at full length, Vytal folded his arms across his eyes.
Nearly all were now lying asleep, and the fire burned very low. Only Virginia Dare, Dark Eye, and Roger Prat seemed wide-awake.
The low tread of the sentinel at the nearest gate told them that safety was assured. The stillness of the town, profound and all-pervading, was broken at rare intervals only by the screech of an owl or the low murmur of voices, while the dreary monotone of the distant surf seemed as it were to accompany the dirge of silence.
Suddenly, however, the sentry’s voice, in a low challenge, caught the quick ear of Virginia, but, as Prat turned apprehensively, she laughed aloud. Then Roger himself shook with merriment. “Body o’ me! he hath challenged King Lud, and, I’ll warrant, is now calling himself a fool. Behold his Majesty!” And, sure enough, there was the well-known bulky form loping on all fours through the entrance. As it came near the circle of firelight the cumbrous shadow flattened out.
“He’s not overjoyed to see you,” laughed Virginia, and she would have gone forward to pat the shaggy head, but Prat restrained her.
“Nay, wait. ’Tis a trick of his. He knows well he hath been a deserter, and is full of shame. Look you—his eyes are shut; the prankish monarch pretends to be indifferently asleep. Now take no notice, but out of the corner of your eye watch him. He always comes to me in the end, an I pay no attention to his whimsicality.”
Virginia, pleased at any diversion, cast a sidelong glance at the long snout which lay tranquilly between the paws, more in the position of a dog’s nose than a bear’s. “For once,” she observed, “his Majesty is not sniffing at us.”
“’Tis his game,” declared Prat. “Now watch, and I’ll turn my back impertinently.”
For some time the huge pate lay motionless. “He’s really asleep,” said Virginia.
“That may be,” allowed Roger, “for I doubt not his three days’ roaming has wearied him considerably. He’s a cub no longer, and has, I’ll swear, lumbago, like myself. Let him lie. But here’s a great brute who’s slept too long.” And Roger poked Hugh Rouse viciously with his foot. Yawning, the giant rolled over, and surveyed them stupidly. “Numskull!” exclaimed Prat, “thank the Lord we look not to you for protection. I’d sooner trust King Lud, though for the moment even he’s a-dreaming.”
Virginia, amused at his raillery, cast another look behind her. “Nay,” she whispered. “See, he has crawled nearer.”
“Oh, has he, indeed!” said Roger. “I’ll give him his deserts in time. But first this dwarfling here must explain himself.” He glanced down at Rouse. “How now, sirrah?—think you we are safe at home in England? Do your weighty dreams increase our numbers, that are in reality so desperate small? Think you the Spanish force could not swallow us up as thy great maw would engulf a herring? Poor fool, sleep on in thy fond delusion,” and, raising his brows in feigned contempt, Roger turned to the silent Indian and Virginia. “Now the lord chancellor shall have the honor of punishing his renegade monarch right merrily.”
He rose, turned, and swaggered toward the ungainly shadow.
As if the animal had readily divined his intention, the great nose shifted now this way, now that, irresolutely. “See!” cried Roger, “he creeps away like a beaten hound,” and Virginia saw the bowlder-like shadow rolling off toward the palisade.
“Villain!” cried Prat, “come hither,” with which he ran forward wrathfully.
But just as he was about to cuff the upraised snout with the palm of his hand, the awkward figure rose, and a glistering light shone for an instant in the fire-glare. With a groan Roger stumbled, and would have fallen, but now a mass of dark fur was flung at his feet, and a man, who had emerged from beneath it, started, quick as a flash, toward the gateway. Uttering a loud oath of pain and anger, the soldier sprang across the bearskin, and, although mortally wounded, contrived to grasp the stranger. Then, with a great effort, for at each moment the blood spurted from his breast, he threw his captive heavily to the ground. Again and again his antagonist’s short blade flashed and buried itself in his arm; yet, flinging himself bodily on the writhing form, Roger held the spy a prisoner.
Even as he fell, a cry from Manteo awoke Vytal, while the others, startled by the commotion, leaped to their feet in wild confusion. Then, above the turmoil, rose Vytal’s voice piercingly: “’Tis naught!” For a single glance at the struggling pair and the empty bearskin had told him that a spy was caught.
As the excited colonists gathered about the grappling couple, Roger rolled over in a swoon, and Vytal looked down at the captive, who was in an instant held firmly by Manteo and Rouse.
“It is Frazer,” he said, calmly. “Bind him, and take him to the fort.”
“Nay,” was the prisoner’s rejoinder, in a low, musical voice, “’tis his Highness, the Crown Prince.”