"Manteo must go," he cried, "or he will forget that he is a warrior, and weep even as a woman. Farewell! May the Great Spirit, who dost watch alike over all, both pale and red skin, guide your footsteps and keep you safe from harm," and with a steady step, he glided over to his canoe and dropped into it.
His knife gleamed for an instant upon the line that bound the canoe to the vessel. Released, the little boat fell back, and the great ship rose upon the water and began her outward trip.
We stood at the rail, Margaret and I, and watched the boat with the motionless figure in it, until a turn in the island hid him from our view. And so we parted from that true soul forever, bearing with the stoicism of his race his grief at the separation.
A nobler type has there never been of a savage and barbarous race, whom its enemies have defamed and maligned. Hospitable, generous, warm-hearted and true, quick to anger, and when aroused never forgetting nor forgiving a foe, but at the same time never betraying a friend, nor forgetting a favor. Many foes of the race would do well to imitate its virtues, while with that knowledge that comes with superior advantages and opportunities they reject its failings. And of that untutored people, none there were who could boast of more of those qualities that go to make up a soldier and a gentleman, than he whom we left behind us that day—Manteo, a chieftain of Roanoke.
* * * * * * *
We were coming into London. After being long upon the brine, we had at last reached England. And now this bright December morning we sailed up the sparkling Thames, passing swiftly the craft that, bent on business or pleasure, thronged its waters. Rapidly we sailed by them one by one, and kept on our steady way to the harbor. Each familiar spot I saw seemed to greet me as an old friend, and with Margaret at my side, we laughed and jested, as we drew nearer and nearer to London and home.
Home—that gray old castle, where my forefathers had lived and died, was to be our home, for we had determined to stay in London only a few days. I had prevailed on Margaret not to put me off any longer, and to-morrow morning, with only a few near friends to witness it, we were to be married quietly in a little chapel, and then would journey on to Richmond Castle, where, with her dear presence to cheer me, I was to take up the duties and responsibilities of my position.
I would have much to do, for we had made many plans for the improvement of my estate, and for the well-being and advancement of the tenants. There together we would pass our days in peace and happiness. I had suffered much, sorrowed much in the past, and longed for the rest and quiet of the calm green country, where, surrounded by my friends, and far from the noise and turmoil of London, I could forget all, happy in the sweet sunshine of my lady's smiles.
We had turned the last bend of the river, and a great roar went up from the men, as like little children they shouted and cried. Many strong men, who had faced death unafraid, fell upon their knees, tears streaming from their bronzed faces, and thanked God that they had been spared to set foot on old England again. The culverins of our vessel screamed out a greeting, and from the shore the guns roared back a reply.
My lady had given a little cry of joy as we looked, for there in front of us lay the great city, the docks dotted with the crowd which had gathered to greet the vessel. Margaret laid her hand gently upon my arm. "Look!" she cried, and following her outstretched finger, I saw, at the very edge of the water, a little group shouting and screaming to us.