Ranteo laughed too, as he answered, “The poor nemarough wandered like a lost deer back and forth, and was full of fear. He would speak with me, but he could not, and for the great Werowance Manteo’s love, who did good to all such, Ranteo gave the stranger half his fire and half his food, and would bring him to Iosco.”
Nantiquas interrupted, “The Owaissa is not safe on Powhatan’s land. The boys and men wait yonder. You must go on. You must go to Croatoan. Is it not so, Iosco?”
“But how about the Werowance at Ritanoe? Must we not go there, Nantiquas?” Virginia asked.
Nantiquas laughed. “Owaissa would not have come by this trail had she been journeying to Ritanoe. Powhatan’s braves have that trail to-night. Owaissa was on her way to her own people, to the camp of the pale-faces, but it is safer for her on the way to Croatoan. There she can join her people without danger from Powhatan.”
A slight noise in the darkness startled them. Iosco drew a deerskin over the fire and stepped on it till the light was gone. Nantiquas led the way, and they followed; they had gone only a short distance when they came to the men and boys, all that was left of the Roanoke colony, seven souls. Two small skiffs were waiting, a moment more and all was ready.
Owaissa clasped Nantiquas’s hand. “You have been very good, dear Nantiquas. You will come to us some day, won’t you?” Her voice faltered, and she sobbed as she had not done in all the scenes of pain or danger. “He has been so good; he has saved us all,” she said, turning to the Englishman, who, raising his hand, gave his blessing to the young Indian prince.
One more grasp of Owaissa’s hand, then the skiffs were moving down the Youghianund flu, leaving Nantiquas alone on the shore. The first rays of the sun glistened on the waving hair in the boat, and on a little silky curl in the Indian’s brown hand, as he caressed it tenderly. The mists cleared away, and a faint gleam of color tinged the sky like the reflection of a rainbow. He saw it, and muttered to himself, as the skiffs passed out of sight, “Nantiquas will never tell your secret to the whites, Iosco, lest they carry her off from you.” And then looking towards the bright bow of color, he added, “True, there are many flowers do die on earth.”
Powhatan had condemned all the whites to die because he was afraid they might tell the secrets of his people to the white tribe who had now settled near his own lands. If they knew all, they would be dangerous enemies. So Nantiquas had sent word to Iosco not to let any of the whites attempt to go to Jamestown, for there were spies watching for them all the way, with orders to capture them. A reward was offered for every white scalp from Croatoan or Ritanoe, or wherever the seven whites had escaped to.
The old places were slowly coming nearer and nearer, and the great throb of happiness that leaps into one’s heart as he is coming home, filled Virginia’s heart with thankfulness and love.
“O Iosco, I am so glad I did not go right to my own people; I would never have seen Croatoan again. I am sure there is not another place in the whole world so beautiful. I love it, every spot of its ground. Are you glad we are all to be together again for a while?”