No. LX.
"The action in which Sir Richard met with his death is so extraordinary that it well merits recital: its object was to surprise the Spanish fleet when it rendezvoused at the Azores, on its return from America. For this purpose, Lord Thomas Howard sailed from England with six of the queen's ships, six victualers, and some pinnaces, Sir Richard Grenville being vice admiral in the Revenge. Having set out in the spring, 1591, they waited six months at Flores in expectation of their prize. Philip, however, obtaining intelligence of their design, dispatched Don Alphonso Barcau with fifty-three ships of war to act as convoy. So secure had the English become by protracted delay, that this armament was bearing down upon them before they had the least suspicion of its approach. Most of the crews were on shore, providing water, ballast, and other necessaries, and many were disabled by sickness. To hurry on board, weigh anchor, and leave the place with the utmost speed, was their only safety; and Grenville, upon whom the charge of the details at this pressing crisis was imposed, was the last upon the spot, superintending the embarkation, and receiving his men on board, of whom ninety were on the sick-list, and only one hundred able for duty. Thus detained, he found it impossible to recover the wind, and there was no alternative but either to cut his mainsail, tack about, and fly with all speed, or remain and fight it out single handed. It was to this desperate resolution that he adhered. 'From the greatness of his spirit,' says Raleigh, 'he utterly refused to turn from the enemy, protesting he would rather die than be guilty of such dishonor to himself, his country, and her majesty's ship.' His design was to force the squadron of Seville, which was on his weather bow, to give way; and such was the impetuosity of his attack, that it was on the point of being successful. Divers of the Spaniards, springing their loof, as the sailors of those times termed it, fell under his lee; when the San Philip, a galleon of 1500 tons, gained the wind, and coming down on the Revenge, becalmed her sails so completely that she could neither make way nor obey the helm. The enemy carried three tier of guns on each side, and discharged eight foreright from her chase, besides those of her stern ports. At the moment Sir Richard was thus entangled, four other galleons loofed up and boarded him, two on his larboard and two on his starboard. The close fight began at three in the afternoon, and continued, with some slight intermission, for fifteen hours, during which time, Grenville, unsupported, sustained the reiterated attacks of fifteen Spanish ships, the rest not being able to engage in close fire. The unwieldy San Philip, having received a broadside from the lower tier of the Revenge, shifted with all speed, and avoided the repetition of such a salute; but still, as one was beaten off, another supplied the vacant space. Two galleons were sunk, and two others so handled as to lie complete wrecks upon the water; yet it was evident no human power could save Sir Richard's vessel. Although wounded in the beginning of the action, its brave commander refused, for eight hours, to leave the upper deck. He was then shot through the body, and as his wound was dressing he received another musket ball, and saw the surgeon slain at his side. Such was the state of things during the night; but the darkness concealed the full extent of the calamity. As the day broke, a melancholy spectacle presented itself. 'Now,' says Raleigh, 'was to be seen nothing but the naked hull of a ship, and that almost a skeleton, having received eight hundred shot of great artillery, and some under water; her deck covered with the limbs and carcasses of forty valiant men, the rest all wounded, and painted with their own blood; her masts beat overboard; all her tackle cut asunder; her upper works raised and level with the water, and she herself incapable of receiving any direction or motion except that given her by the heaving billows.' At this moment Grenville proposed to sink the vessel, and trust to the mercy of God rather than fall into the hands of the Spaniards—a resolution in which he was joined by the master gunner and a part of the crew; but the rest refused to consent, and compelled their captain to surrender. Faint with the loss of blood, and, like his ship, shattered with repeated wounds, this brave man soon after expired, with these remarkable words: 'Here die I, Richard Grenville, with a joyful and quiet mind, for that I have ended my life as a true soldier ought to do, fighting for his country, queen, religion, and honor.'"—Report of the Truth of the Fight about the Isles of the Azores, 4to, 1501, quoted in Tytler's "Life of Raleigh."
No. LXI.
"Pocahontas, before her marriage, was instructed in the principles of the Christian religion, which she cordially embraced, and was baptized by the name of Rebecca. Soon after, she set sail to visit England. As soon as Smith heard of her arrival, he sent a letter to the queen, recounting all her services to himself and to the nation, assuring her majesty that she had a great spirit, though a low stature, and earnestly soliciting her majesty's kindness and courtesy. Mrs. Rolfe was accordingly introduced, and well received at court. At first James fancied that Rolfe, in marrying her, might be advancing a claim to the crown of Virginia; however, by great pains, this idea was at last driven out of his brains. Mrs. Rolfe was for some time, as a novelty, the favorite object in the circles of fashion and nobility. On her introduction into these, she deported herself with a grace and propriety which, it is said, many ladies, bred with every advantage of education and society, could not equal. Purchas mentions meeting her at the table of his patron, Dr. King, bishop of London, where she was entertained 'with festival state and pomp,' beyond what, at his hospitable board, was shown to other ladies. She carried herself as the daughter of a king, and was respected as such. She was accompanied by Vitamokomakkin, an Indian chief and priest, who had married one of her sisters, and had been sent to attend her. Purchas saw him repeatedly 'sing and dance his diabolical measures.' He endeavored to persuade this chief to follow the example of his sister-in-law, and embrace Christianity, but found him 'a blasphemer of what he knew not, preferring his God to ours.' He insisted that their Okee, having taught them to plant, sow, and wear a cork twisted round their left ear, was entitled to their undivided homage. Powhatan had instructed him to bring back every information respecting England, and particularly to count the number of people, furnishing him for that purpose with a bundle of sticks, that he might make a notch for every man. Vitamokomakkin, the moment he landed at Plymouth, was appalled at the magnitude of the task before him; however, he continued notching most indefatigably all the way to London; but the instant that he entered Piccadilly, he threw away the sticks, and on returning, desired Powhatan to count the leaves on the trees, and the sand on the sea-shore. He also told Smith that he had special instructions to see the English god, their king, their queen, and their prince. Smith could do nothing for him as to the first particular; but he was taken to the levee, and saw the other three, when he complained bitterly that none of them had made him any present. As soon as Smith learned that Pocahontas was settled in a house at Brentford, which she had chosen in order to be out of the smoke of London, he hastened to wait upon her. His reception was very painful. The princess turned from him, hid her face, and for two hours could by no effort be induced to utter a word. A certain degree of mystery appears to hang on the origin of this deadly offense. Her actual reproaches, when she found her speech, rested on having heard nothing of him since he left Virginia, and on having been assured there that he was dead. Prevost has taken upon him to say that the breach of plighted love was the ground of this resentment, and that it was only on believing that death had dissolved the connection between them that she had been induced to marry another. I can not in any of the original writers meet with the least trace of this alleged vow, and should be sorry to find in Smith the false lover of the fair Pocahontas. It would not also have been much in unison with her applauded discretion to have resented a wrong of this nature in such a time and manner. I am persuaded that this love was a creation of the romantic brain of Prevost, and that the real ground of her displeasure was, that during the two years when she was so shamefully kept in durance, she had heard nothing of any intercession made in her favor by one whom she had laid under such deep obligation, and really the thing seems to require some explanation. It appears that when Smith at last was able to draw speech from the indignant fair one, he succeeded in satisfying her that there had been no such neglect as she apprehended, and she insisted on calling him by the name of father.
"It is said that Pocahontas departed from London with the most favorable impressions, and with every honor, her husband being appointed Secretary and Recorder General of Virginia. But Providence had not destined that she should ever revisit her native shore. As she went down to embark at Gravesend she was seized with illness, and died in a few days. Her end is described to have edified extremely all the spectators, and to have been full of Christian resignation and hope."—Murray's America. See Smith, in Pinkerton, vol. xiii., p. 120-123; Beverley; Prevost, Hist. Gen. des Voyages, vol. xiv., p. 471; Purchas, vol. iv., 1774.
No. LXII.
"The historians of Virginia have left some records respecting this unfortunate race, who have not even left behind a relic of their name or nation. A rude agriculture, devolved solely on the women; hunting, pursued with activity and skill, but rather as a pastime than a toil; strong attachment of the members of the little communities to each other, but deadly enmity against all their neighbors, and this manifesting itself in furious wars—these features belong to the Virginians, in common with almost every form of savage life. There are others which are more distinctive. Although a rude independence has been supposed to be, and in many cases is, the peculiar boast of the savage, yet, when a yoke of opinion and authority has once been established over his mind, he yields a submission more entire and more blind than is rendered to the most absolute of Eastern despots. Such a sway had the King of Virginia. 'When he listeth,' says Smith, 'his will is a law, and must be obeyed; not only as a king, but as half a god they esteem him. What he commandeth they dare not disobey in the least thing. It is strange to see with what great fear and adoration all this people do adore this Powhatan; at the least frown of his brow their greatest spirits will tremble with fear.' Powhatan (father of the celebrated Pocahontas; see Appendix, No. LXI.) had under him a number of chiefs, who ruled as supreme within their own circle; and they were so numerous, and covered so large an extent of territory, that Powhatan is often dignified by Europeans with the title of emperor.
"The priests and conjurers formed a separate order, and enjoyed that high influence which marks a certain advance in the social state. They possessed some knowledge of nature, and of the history and traditions of their country, superior, at least, to that of their ruder countrymen. Their temples were numerous, formed on a similar plan to those of Florida, and each served by one or more priests.
"Beverley was the man who made the most close inquiry into the Virginian mythology. He did not meet with all the success he wished, finding them excessively mysterious on the subject. Having got hold, however, of an intelligent Indian, and plied him heartily with strong cider, he at last got him to open his heart in some degree. As he declared his belief in a wise, perfect, and supremely beneficent being, who dwelt in the heavens, Beverley asked him how then he could confine his worship to the devil, a wicked, ugly, earthly being. The Indian said that they were secure as to the good being, who would shower down his blessings without asking any return; but that the evil spirit was perpetually busy and meddling, and would spoil all if court were not paid to him. Beverley, however, pressed upon him how he could think that an insensible log, 'a helpless thing, equipped with a burden of clouts,' could ever be a proper object of worship. The visage of the Indian now assumed a very marked and embarrassed expression. After a long pause, he began to utter, in broken sentences, 'It is the priests;' then, after another pause, 'It is the priests;' but 'a qualm crossed his conscience,' and he would say no more.
"Beverley had been so well informed upon this last point, in consequence of a favorable accident of which he had availed himself. While the whole town were assembled to deliberate upon some great state affair, he was ranging the woods, and stumbled upon their great temple. He resolved not to lose so favorable an occasion. After removing about fourteen logs, with which the door was barricadoed, he entered the mansion, which appeared at first to consist only of a large, empty, dark apartment, with a fire-place in the middle, and set round with posts, crowned with carved or painted heads. On closer observation, he at length discovered a recess, with mats hung before it, and involved in the deepest darkness. With some hesitation he ventured into this wondrous sanctuary, where he found the materials, which, on being put together, made up Okee, Kiwasee, or Mioceos, the mighty Indian idol. The main body consisted of a large plank, to whose edges were nailed half hoops, to represent the breast and belly. Long rolls of blue and red cotton cloth, variously twisted, made arms and legs, the latter of which were represented in a bent position. The reputation of the god was chiefly supported by the very dim religious light under which he was viewed, and which enabled also the conjurer to get behind him, and move his person in such a manner as might be favorable to the extension of his influence, while the priest in front, by the most awful menaces, deterred any from approaching so near as might lead to any revelation of the interior mysteries.