The Birth of the Nation, Jamestown, 1607

by Sara Agnes Rice Pryor

The voyage of the Virginia colonists began, as it ended, in a storm. One of their number, Thomas Studley, tells the story in quaint language:[11] "By unprosperous winds we were kept six weekes in the sight of England; all of which time, Maister Hunt our Preacher was so weak and sicke that few expected his recoverie. Yet although he were but 10 or 12 miles from his habitation (the time we were in the Downes), and notwithstanding the stormie weather, nor the scandalous imputations (of some few little better than Atheists, of the greatest ranke amongst us) suggested against him; all this could never force from him so much as a seeming desire to leave the businesse so many discontents did then arise; had he not, with the water of patience, and his godly exhortations (but chiefly by his true devoted examples) quenched those flames of envie and dissension."

By "the Atheist of greatest ranke" was meant, doubtless, George Percy, the Roman Catholic; but in the light of his subsequent career it is impossible to believe him guilty of "scandalous imputations" or "disastrous designs." We can imagine young Percy wrapped in his cloak and pacing the deck of the ship, his face perhaps turned northward where lay his forefathers' estates, crowned by Alnwick Castle, the princely home for many generations of the Percys, Earls of Northumberland, "for virtue and honour second to not any in the country." From Alnwick Castle had gone forth more than one Harry Hotspur to risk all and lose all in the Border wars, and later in the intestine wars of England. An Earl of Northumberland had taken arms in defence of the unhappy Queen of Scots and paid for his devotion on the scaffold. His brother Henry, Earl of Northumberland, father of George Percy, had been committed to the Tower, accused of conspiring to liberate Queen Mary, and had destroyed himself "to balk Elizabeth of the forfeiture of his lands." Decision between conflicting parties had often been forced upon these noble earls, and been met openly, bravely, and loyally, whether or no the cause had prospered.

Upon the accession of James to the throne, the fortunes of the family had seemed to revive. To George Percy's brother had been assigned the honour of announcing to him the death of Elizabeth. The present Earl of Northumberland (the eldest brother of George Percy) had rapidly risen in favour. Then the discovery of the fatal Gunpowder Plot—the treason of fanatic Catholics—had revealed a Percy among its most active ringleaders. Although a distant relative of the Earl, he was still a Percy; and all who bore the name suffered from unjust suspicion. The Earl of Northumberland was now a prisoner in the Tower, accused of no crime except a desire to be a leader of the detested Roman Catholics. George Percy could hope for no honour, no career, no home in England. Nor could he expect to find career, home, honour in the wilderness, but there he could at least hide his breaking heart!

That he was a brave, honourable gentleman we know from the testimony of those who laboured with him for the good of the colony. Without doubt he held himself aloof from his fellows on the voyage. He was on the deck on the night of the 12th of February, and perhaps turning his longing eyes toward his northern home, when he saw a blazing star,—which flashed out of the sky for a moment and was as suddenly hidden in darkness,—fit emblem of the fallen fortunes of his house. He simply records the fact in his calm "Discourse of the Plantation," adding "and presently came a storm."

The baleful "flames of envy and dissension" were not altogether quenched by good Master Hunt's "waters of patience." They broke out again and again during the long voyage of five months. John Smith appears to have angered his fellow-travellers in some way, and he was held in confinement during part of the voyage. It is even stated that when they arrived at the island of Mevis a gallows was erected for him, but "he could not be prevailed upon to use it." He was, by far, the ablest man among the first colonists. In the twenty-nine years of his life he had adventures enough for all the historical novels of a century. Perhaps he boasted of them too much, and thus excited "envy and dissension." Have they not filled nearly a thousand pages of a late story of his life? He could tell of selling his books and satchel when he was a boy to get money to run away from home; of startling events all along until he fought the Turks in Transylvania; of cutting off the heads, in combat, of three of them "to delight the Ladies who did long to see some court-like pastime"; of inventing wonderful fire-signals which were triumphantly successful in war; of beating out the brains of a Bashaw's head; of imprisonment and peril, in which lovely ladies succoured him. What wonder that all this, and more, told in a masterful way, should have aroused suspicion that he intended to seize the government of the colony, aided and abetted by conspirators already at hand in all three of the ships!

Evidently the voyage was not a dull one. It was diversified also by frequent storms—no light matter in the little rolling vessels. The path of the ships was not the one we now travel in six days. The mariner in the sixteenth century and the early days of the next knew but one path across the ocean—that sailed by Columbus. They turned their prows southward, "watered" at the Bahamas, and then sought the Gulf Stream to help them northward again.

Captain Newport's destination was Roanoke Island; part of his duty was to search for Raleigh's lost colony. Three days "out of his reckoning," his passengers, like Columbus's crew, grew discontented and discouraged, and wished to return homeward. At last they sighted the shores of Virginia, and a tempest blew them within the capes of Chesapeake Bay. Upon one of these they erected a cross, naming the cape "Henry" in honour of the Prince of Wales. The opposite point was named after the King's second son, the Duke of York, afterward Charles the First. Attempting to land here, they were met with a flight of arrows—a stern Virginia welcome—and two of their number were wounded. The new nation was born in a storm, its baptism was of blood, and the Furies relentlessly hovered over its cradle.

When the sealed box was opened, the appointed council was found to be Bartholomew Gosnold, Edward Maria Wingfield, Christopher Newport, John Ratcliffe, John Martin, George Kendall, and their prisoner John Smith. These were to elect their own President for one year. Later they elected Wingfield.[12] He and the Council were invested with the government; affairs of moment were to be examined by a jury, but determined by the Council. The first presidential election in the United States of America was held April 26, 1607.

Seventeen days were spent in quest of a place of settlement, sailing up and down the river, on the banks of which the Indians were clustered like swarming bees. Sundry adventures of small moment introduced them rather favourably to the Indians, who seemed, Percy thought, "as goodly men" as any he had "ever seen of savages, their prince bearing himself in a proud, modest fashion with great majesty." What they thought of the English had already been expressed in an unequivocal manner. They, however, offered no further violence.