The Birth of the Nation, Jamestown, 1607

by Sara Agnes Rice Pryor

The little town proved no city of refuge to the weary captain. True, he had friends, but his enemies were stronger than his friends. The turbulent, selfish, and ignoble were often in the majority in the colony, and nothing short of the interposition of Providence could have prevented their being in the ascendant as well. The miracle of its enduring life lies in the fact that a mere handful of men were enabled, through superhuman courage and patience, to overcome obstacles, the most tremendous that ever confronted a company of adventurers.

In vain Captain Smith explained that Robinson and Emry had fallen victims to their own imprudence, and neglect of his express orders. In vain was he sustained by George Percy, Robert Hunt, and other true men. His story was not believed by the men who had been his enemies from the hour he left the shores of England; and now, on the day of his return, he was tried and sentenced to be hanged the next day.

But the Divine Power that had guided him through so many difficulties did not forsake him now in his extremity. Early in the night, as he lay closely guarded, he heard shouts and signals all along the line of sentinels. They had descried, in the moonlight, a ghostly sail on the river, and Newport, the long overdue Newport, was coming in with the tide.

Probably Newport's first inquiry was for Wingfield, his second for John Smith. Learning of their imprisonment, he indignantly released them both,—Smith from the hands of the guard, and Wingfield from the pinnace, where he was still in duress.

Smith now bethought himself of his promise to send guns and a grindstone to Powhatan. His guides, with Powhatan's trusty servant, Rawhunt, were still in the fort, without doubt amazed at the turn things had taken. Smith now appeared, and conducting them to a spot where two demi-culverins and a millstone were lying, gave them permission to carry them home to their king. Of course such a formidable present could not be borne on the men's shoulders. To give them an idea of the power of the guns, a cannon was charged with stones and fired at the boughs of a tree. As the icicle-laden branches came crashing down, the "savages took to their heels," but presently returning, the captain loaded them with gifts for Powhatan, his wives and children, and sent them on their way. Doubtless Pocahontas had not forgotten to entrust to Rawhunt the two little baskets for white beads to make her a chain.

Thoughtful men among the first settlers must have regarded Newport's addition to their number with dismay. There were a few "labourers," a great many "gentlemen." A jeweller, a perfumer, two refiners, two goldsmiths, and a pipe-maker were sent out to help subdue the wilderness! There was not one soldier to aid in protecting the colony against an army of savages. But there were six tailors! These professors of the fine arts were evidently intended for the service of the "gentlemen."

Newport had brought stirring news, and we can imagine the eagerness with which the homesick exiles listened. He had left England with two vessels, but the Phœnix, well equipped with men and supplies, had been separated from his ship in a storm, and he had reason to fear she was lost. He could report the disappointment of the London Company at the failure of the gold test, and their discontent that no immediate return of value seemed likely to reward and reimburse them for all they had adventured. Surely Newport had tarried in Virginia long enough to bring home some treasure, some news of Raleigh's lost colony, or some hope of finding the South Sea! His Majesty's subjects in the rich new land had evidently been remiss. Of course, letters were received by Percy, Master Hunt, and the "better class." Percy learned that his noble brother, the Duke of Northumberland, was still with Sir Walter Raleigh, confined in the Tower, and that London's learned and scientific men flocked thither to be entertained by them. Will Shakespeare had written a new play, "King Lear," and although the distinguished prisoners were not allowed to join the ardent crowds at the Globe and Blackfriars, they could read and enjoy the great master as well perhaps in their comfortable apartments in the Tower, as in the "dingy pit under the smoking flambeaux." John Smith was especially interested, as his own "fatal tragedies," he once complained, "had been acted on the stage."

But the cream of Newport's news was the London gossip. What story could he tell of the court? Was peace concluded with Spain? Was the Guy Fawkes conspiracy forgotten? How did the new King promise, and what nobleman was now in power? The answer to the latter was interesting. A young Scotchman had broken one of his legs at a tilting in the King's presence, and had, with this unfair starting, won more than halfway in the race to royal favour. In one hour he had found all that is meant by the magic word "favourite." He was poor, even beyond the limits of Scotch poverty, but he was straight-limbed, well-favoured, strong-shouldered, and smooth-faced, "with some sort of cunning and show of modesty." The King adored him, loaded him with jewels and fair raiment, and conferred upon him the honour of knighthood. People predicted (and truly) that Sir Robert Carr would rise to be a peer of the realm. The highest dignitaries, Cecil, Suffolk, and all, vied with each other which should most engage his favour. When Lady Raleigh on her knees begged her king not to take her captive husband's estate from her children, he replied, "I maun have the land! I maun have it for Carr!"