The Settlers: A Tale of Virginia

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Then we will march in the direction from whence he came,” said Roger. “On, lads!” he exclaimed, having given his last orders to the crew to lie off the shore at anchor, and to allow no Indians on board under any pretext till his return. The forest was tolerably open, and the boat’s compass enabled them to keep the course they desired. No wigwams were seen, nor cultivated fields, nor did any natives make their appearance. Now and then a deer started from before them: Roger and Vaughan were too careful leaders to allow their men to chase the animals, lest the natives might take the opportunity of setting upon them while thus separated. “Better empty insides than cloven skulls, lads,” observed Roger; “ere long we shall have a deer crossing our path near enough to bring it down without the risk of being taken at a disadvantage.”

The men, seeing the wisdom of this, marched forward without complaint. Night coming on, they camped in the centre of a tolerably wide space of open ground, near which, at a little distance, ran a stream from whence they could obtain a supply of water, while the bushes which grew near it afforded them fuel. Here also they might hope to get a shot at some animal coming down to drink, which would give them fresh meat and enable them to husband their provisions. Vaughan had often carried a fowling-piece amid the woods and hills of Devonshire, and was the best shot of the party; he accordingly volunteered to watch for a deer, keeping near enough to the camp to obtain assistance if required. It wanted but half an hour to sunset, at which time animals were most likely to come down to drink. Oliver, also carrying a gun, went with him. But few trees or shrubs grew on the banks of the stream, which ran foaming and bubbling over a stony bed, with rocks on either side. As the time was short, they had at once to select a convenient shelter: the best they could find was between a rock and a thick bush, which overhung the stream. Here, leaning against the bank, they could command the opposite shore, which shelved gradually to the water, as it did also some way lower down.

Vaughan was beginning to get weary of waiting, when he saw a couple of deer moving amid the tall grass and brushwood which covered the country for some distance on the opposite side: Oliver saw them also. Recollecting the way Gilbert and Fenton had been entrapped, he thought it possible that the Indians might be attempting to play them a similar trick. The deer trotted forward, and the wind coming from them, they did not discover their enemies, and reaching the bank, began to drink. Vaughan and Oliver raised their pieces, and as the deer lifted up their long necks, they fired together and both fell dead. A shout of triumph raised by Oliver brought several from the camp to the spot, who dashing across the river, the deer were soon cut up, and several pieces of venison were quickly roasting before the fire.

Their success encouraged them to hope that they might obtain ample food, and be able to prosecute their search much further than they had intended. The sound of the shot, however, and their fires, might attract the natives to their neighbourhood; and a very vigilant watch was therefore kept during the night. Somewhat to their surprise, however, it passed away quietly, and the next morning they resumed their march. They were passing the borders of a thick wood, nearly knee-deep in grass, when Roger felt his foot strike against a hard substance which emitted a hollow sound, as it gave way before him. Stooping down, he rose with a human skull in his hand, white and clean. He and Vaughan examined it: the top showed a deep cleft. Others at the same time cried out that they were walking among bones.

“Some Indian battle has taken place here,” observed Roger.

“That is no Indian skull,” said Vaughan, “but that of a round-headed Englishman. The blow which killed him, it is clear, was inflicted by an Indian tomahawk.”

The men, who had been searching about, now brought up from among the grass several other skulls, each one giving the same indubitable evidence of the manner in which the owner had been slain.

“This must be the very place where Batten saw the crew of the Sally Rose slaughtered,” observed Vaughan. “It proves that we are on the right track, and should warn us to be cautious in our advance, lest the natives play us the same trick.”

Further search produced altogether ten skulls, the number, it was concluded, of the unfortunate party cut off. Their clothing and arms had evidently been carried away, the bodies alone being left as a feast for the vultures and armadillos. The incident was not encouraging; Roger, however, quickly revived the spirits of his party by remarking that all they had to do was to keep a watch on every side, and not to be cajoled by any tricks the Indians might attempt to play them.

Having already provisions for a couple of days, they pushed on bravely, and would have continued even longer than they had intended, had they not unexpectedly arrived on the banks of a broad river, to cross which without a boat would prove a difficult matter and a dangerous one, should Indians attempt to stop their landing on the opposite bank. They agreed therefore that their best course was to proceed up the river, and to borrow canoes, should they find them—as they had no doubt that it was the river at the mouth of which their ship lay, they could without difficulty return to her, provided they could find canoes of sufficient burden to carry them; and if not, they might descend the stream by a raft—no very hazardous undertaking to men such as they were.