It had been agreed with the colonists that, if anything went wrong and they should find it best to look for a new site, they should remove to a spot fifty miles inland among the friendly Indians, and should carve upon a tree the name of the place to which they were going. In case misfortune befell them, a cross was also to be carved above the name of their destination.
When, after a five weeks' voyage, Admiral White's vessels approached the shore of Hatteras, they anchored some miles out, for safety, and sent a boat in to the shallow Sound. Guy was in the bow of the boat which steered for Roanoke Island. The crew, when they had come near enough, blew trumpet-blasts as a signal of their approach, and sang songs of home—old English glees and madrigals—that had often echoed in the fields, the groves, the farmhouses of Surrey and Kent. Attracted by the sound the colonists, they hoped, would make their appearance the sooner. But how strangely these familiar strains fell upon the ear in the primeval solitude of those lonely waters, on that lovely April day! So strangely, indeed, that one might almost fancy the colonists did not recognize them anymore, and hence failed to respond. Yet the trumpets continued to ring out on the air, and the gay songs were trolled cheerily, as the boat drew near the landing-place.
It may be imagined what an eager lookout Guy kept up at the bow. Ho believed every moment that, at the next, he should see Gertrude emerging from the woods and waving her hand to him. Still, not a sign of life had been given when he stepped ashore.
The little party began to be oppressed by forebodings. They set out through the forest, eagerly searching for some token of their countrymen's presence; but no voice answered their calls, except those of unaccustomed birds and astonished squirrels; and no trail was found upon the light brown soil, other than the marks of an Indian moccasin or the curious dottings made by the feet of furtive animals.
At last, however, the seekers came to a tree which confronted them with three rudely carved letters cut upon its side.
C. R. O.
That was all. There was no indication of the cross, the symbol of distress. The men burst into exclamations of delight; yet Guy, though his heart bounded high with reviving hope, suffered a terrible suspense. The sturdy tree had, as it were, found a voice and spoken; but it had uttered only one vague, baffling syllable. Of what use was that feeble clew? Still he pressed on, having no idea which way to turn, but guided by some inspiration; and presently, shouting to his companions, he pointed to another conspicuous tree which bore upon its blazed trunk the full name of the colony's new abiding-place. The letters missing from the first inscription had doubtless been worn away by storms. The word engraved upon the fibre of the second tree was "Croatan."
The friends of the colonists did not know precisely where Croatan lay; and though Guy urged an immediate exploration, the rest thought it impracticable. The distance from the ships threatened danger of being separated from the expedition by some accident, and left alone without supplies. So, having read the brief message of the departed colonists, the boat party returned to the little squadron and reported.
A storm arose; anchors were lost; the supply of fresh water had run low; and a council called by the Admiral decided that prudence required taking a southerly course to find some safer harbor; advising also that an attempt should be made to capture some Spanish vessels and return with the booty and provisions to find the lost colony. In vain Guy pleaded, with anguish in every word, that at least one of the ships should cruise near the coast off which they now lay and await the first favorable moment for prosecuting the search. The Admiral and his captains were inexorable; and the southern course was taken.
None of the vessels ever went back to the aid of the English at Croatan.