Great Ralegh

by Hugh De Sélincourt

Within six months Ralegh obtained another charter from the Queen with larger powers. He and Adrian Gilbert and John Davies were incorporated under the new charter as "The College of the Fellowship for the Discovery of the North-west passage." That was the dream of the dead navigator. Ralegh always had a greater purpose in view, and the charter was later extended by clauses giving him powers to colonize. Directly these first steps were taken, a month after the charter's final signing, Ralegh despatched two captains, Philip Amadas and Arthur Barlow.

Captain John Smith gives an account of their voyage in his "History of Virginia." (John Smith it was who, profiting by initial failures, succeeded some years later in the fulfilment of the great scheme.) "The 27 of Aprill," he writes, "they set sail from the Thames, the tenth of May passed the Canaries, and the tenth of June the West Indies: which unneedful Southerly course (but then no better was knowne) occasioned them in that season much sicknesse." His interpolation—then no better was known—is significant. It throws a clear light on the difficulties with which these early colonizers were called upon to cope; they had not yet learned the best way even of reaching their destination.

However, on the 2nd of July the two captains arrived at Florida, "where they felt a most delicate sweete smell, though they saw no land, which ere long they espied, thinking it the Continent: an hundred and twenty miles they sailed not finding any harbour." That again is significant, taking into consideration the limited room on a sailing vessel for food and other necessaries. When they came to land, they had not yet the means of knowing anything about that land whatsoever. At length they discovered that they were upon an island, the island of Wokokon. It was fertile past all belief. Grapes grew in profusion right down to the water's edge, that the very surge of the sea sometimes over-flowed them. In the valleys tall cedars grew, and from the black cedars great cranes flew in white flocks, when the men discharged their muskets, "with such a cry as if an army of men had shouted together." The island was thickly wooded with other trees of excellent smell and quality; and in the woods there were conies and deere and fowle in incredible abundance. For three days none of the people were seen. On the third day, in a little boat, three of them appeared and showed no sign of fear. One of them stopped and conferred with the sailors, who gave him a shirt and a hat, meat and wine, which he liked. Then he went away; but soon returned with his boat quite full of fish, which he gave to the sailors. He had come from the mainland.

Next day the king's brother visited the ships, with forty or fifty men, "proper people and in their behaviour very civill." The king's brother's name was Granganamen. Soon after the king himself, Wingina, came. A mat was spread for him on the sea shore, and he sat down upon it. When the sailors came to him, he stroked his head and breast, and he stroked their heads and breasts, to express his love. He made a long speech, and divers toys, "which he kindly accepted," were presented to him. Especially a pewter pleased the king's fancy. He drilled a hole in it and hung it round his neck. It made him a capital breastplate, for which he was ready to give, and gave, twenty skin of deer, worth twenty crowns. He was so pleased with his bargain and treatment that a few days later he brought his wife and children on board. During all their stay in his kingdom, which was called Wingandacoa, King Wingina sent them almost every day a brace of bucks, conies, hares, fish and vegetables. The soil was fertile, as the woods were plentifully stocked with game—for the sailors put some peas in the ground, and in ten days they had grown to the height of fourteen inches.

They had, indeed, found the Land of Promise; and the people who inhabited the land were as friendly as their king. A party went on a little expedition to the island of Roanoak, which was distant some seven leagues. There the wife of the chief man, who was absent, welcomed them with much courtesy. She had their clothes taken off and washed; she had their feet bathed in warm water, while she herself attended to the preparation of food. While they were eating, warriors entered the room armed with bows and arrows. The sailors, fearful of treachery, grasped their muskets. There was no need for alarm, however. The woman saw their fear, and ordered the warriors immediately to snap their bows and arrows across their knees.

Hospitality could go no farther. The whole account of the land "luxuriant to the water's edge, and of their joyous reception by the Indians, makes the dreams of the pastoral poets seem true," as Professor Raleigh puts it. Indeed, the people were such as live after the manner of the Golden Age. Such, too, the Burmese were found to be some three hundred years later; they had the same childlike simplicity, the same earnest kindliness; they, too, were unspoiled and happy. The Indians were regarded as savages; they were not closely observed or sympathetically described by these stout-hearted adventurers, as the Burmese have been by Fielding Hall in his notable books. Their subsequent history bears out the resemblance. The Indians, simpler, more childish people—savages in fact—came into contact with a sterner younger civilization. Their history is known. The history of the subject Burmese is still in the making.

Captain Amadas and Captain Barlow returned in September. They brought with them two of the natives, many skins, and pearls as big as peas, which they duly delivered to Sir Walter Ralegh. He was overjoyed with the success of their voyage, and he obtained permission from the Queen to call his new land of Wingandacoa, Virginia, in her honour. He ordered a new seal of his arms to be cut, engraved with the legend, "Propria insignia Walteri Ralegh, militis, Domini et Gubernatoris Virginiae."

In the spring of the following year his colonizing fleet was ready. The command of the expedition was given to Sir Richard Grenville, the valiant, as John Smith calls him. The colony was to be under the management of Captain Ralph Lane. Sir Richard Grenville was not the man for the business, and the expedition would have had a very different result had Sir Philip Sidney undertaken its command, as it was intended that he should. Sir Richard was supreme as a fighter: his tactics were to hit first, and to hit hardest, and never to give way. He was indomitable, but more than sheer bravery was necessary for the undertaking, and more than sheer bravery Sir Richard Grenville did not possess.

The fleet of seven ships departed from Plymouth in April, and, without any serious mishap, they arrived on May 12 at the Bay of Moskito in the island of St. John's, where they cast anchor, and where in seven days they were joined amidst great rejoicing by Master Candish, captain of one of the ships which had been separated in a storm. The island of St. John was in possession of the Spaniards. It is probable that Sir Richard Grenville hated the Spaniards more than he loved the project of colonization; for in St. John he stayed till the end of May. He built a fort, and succeeded in capturing two Spanish frigates, one of which was well freighted with treasure, and having ransomed the Spaniards of account for good round sums, he went on his way to Isabella, on the north side of Hispaniola. Here again they delayed, hoping, as it would seem, for an opportunity to attack the Spaniards in possession; but the Spaniards, overawed, as the writer thinks, by their numbers, exhibited only the greatest courtesy. So they sailed on June 7, and eventually arrived a fortnight later at Wokokon, after having narrowly escaped complete shipwreck "on a breach called the Cape of Fear."