Vytal left them with a grave, almost indifferent bow to Eleanor, and, boarding the pinnace, was about to return to Ferdinando’s ship in quest of St. Magil; but he felt a hand on his arm drawing him gently backward, and, turning, he saw Manteo, the Indian, who drew him aside beyond a bend in the shore. “My brother, he hath gone.”
CHAPTER IX
“From forth her ashes shall advance her head,
And flourish once again that erst was dead.”
—Marlowe, in Dido, Queen of Carthage.
Vytal frowned and bit his lip. “When did he go, and whither?”
“When, I can say, for I have heard. It was yesterday, the day after the great ship and our father, the governor, came to Roanoke, before we ourselves arrived. But whither I know not, save that it was toward the great forest of the South.”
“Alone?”