Praying only for a safe arrival in Jamestown before long, they looked only that far ahead. John Rolfe did not anticipate that his wife would die soon. Sir George Somers did not foresee that he would come to an inglorious end on this very island many months hence from eating a surfeit of pig; and Sir Thomas Gates, the first absolute Governor of Virginia, did not know that his desperate decision on arrival at Jamestown would nearly end the colony, making it disappear in the mysterious trail of Roanoke Island, Elizabeth Island and St. George's Fort.
Resolutely these sanguine refugees saw that boats were built out of salvaged timbers from the wrecked ship, along with fresh and strong cedar from the Islands, and they put faith if not wind into the sails of the aptly named Patience and Deliverance.
The forlorn colonists at Jamestown could scarcely believe their eyes as the stalwart ships came up the river with their castaways a May morning in 1610. The sixty survivors on the shore were too weak to fall in with any brave plans at this point, for plague, starvation and Indian enmity had had their will of them.
Gates landed with high hopes and high orders. He intended to establish a colony at a higher and healthier spot. He was going to keep looking for the Roanoke colonists, and yes, for gold, too, until the tottering ruin of Jamestown appalled him. People had gnawed on molded bread, eaten rats and snakes, and perhaps corpses. Listening to their tales of woe, he promised to take them away, for his food would only sustain them all for sixteen days here. Palisades were torn down, ports opened, gates ripped from their hinges, the church ruined—and it would have been bitterly deserted if it had been habitable. Gates declared martial law. The survivors with their pitiful possessions and small arms were gotten on board to the militant beating of drums. He saw that the heavier cannon were buried, and he was himself the last to board the ship, being afraid that the sullen colonists would set fire to what remained. He considered himself a good housekeeper, leaving his premises tidy for any who should come after, never dreaming that that would be of all people—himself.
He had sent the pinnace Virginia to pick up the guard at Point Comfort. After making six miles, they stopped for the night at Hog Island. In the morning they had travelled but eight more miles when they were baffled at sight of the white sails of the Virginia, which was heading toward them with an important message which reversed the course of western history. Lord Delaware was on his way with one hundred and fifty men to their rescue, and they must go meekly back to await his orders. They met this news with bad grace, but followed the directions.
Gates had his company duly standing in arms, and William Strachey, then Secretary of State, let his colors fall at his lordship's feet, as Delaware entered from the river that Sunday afternoon, falling on his knees to pray silently, on the threshold of the fort at the south gate. He passed on to the church where the Reverend Richard Buck preached.
Delaware was a man who got things done on week days as well as on Sundays, although he fastidiously kept to his quarters on the ship after a look about at rotting Jamestown. He got houses mended, having rails put on leaking roofs, and Indian mats hung over drafty huts. He dealt with the Indians with short shrift, and he sent to seek gold once again. Not since John Smith's day had such an efficient leader hustled lazier men.
The chapel was made the most exalted place of worship yet seen over here. Pews, pulpit, and chancel were built of pungent cedar, and the deeper fragrance of fresh flowers cheered the colonists. The Communion table was built of walnut. Fifty men in bright red livery sat on either side of Delaware, or behind him, as he attended services. Two preachers took turns for two services on Sundays and for another on Thursday. Two bells in the west end of the chapel called all to prayer daily at ten and at four. Everybody and everything seemed on the mend but his lordship himself.
He did not have the stamina to endure this unhealthy climate. The flux, cramp, gout, scurvy and general debility sickened him so that he fled to the Island of Nevis for the cure, wanting to prescribe for himself in as modern and salubrious a manner as he had for the ailing colony. His cure was due to be sunshine, hot baths, balmy climate, oranges and lemons, a far cry from any at poor Jamestown, but winds and waves swept him to London sooner than he had planned.
He was briefly succeeded by Sir Thomas Dale, a grim disciplinarian. Dale was disgusted with the carefree bowling in the streets. He would have been more so a few years back had he seen the naked Pocahontas turning cart-wheels in these streets while the serving boys whirled in her trail, never quite keeping up with her—nor would he have liked the tall tobacco growing rampant in these streets, a few years hence at a time when food crops were needed. Dale believed in all work and no play—never mind dull boys. Houses, the storehouse, and the church needed repairs. Besides he ordered new buildings: a stable, a munition house, a powder house, fishhouse, a barn, a smith's forge, a clean well, and a wharf for landing goods.