Chapter II: Discoveries Continued

Florida had remained unoccupied, and almost disregarded, for several years, when Pamphilo de Narvaez obtained permission from the emperor Charles V. to effect its conquest; accordingly he landed on the coast in April, 1528, with three hundred men, and, erecting a standard, took possession for Spain. Fired by the successes of Cortes, they advanced up the country, hoping to find a second wealthy empire; but swamps and forests met them everywhere, and hosts of ambushed savages attacked them. Still intimations of a country northward abounding in gold, which they continued to receive from captives whom they had taken, and now employed as guides, lured them on. But they found nothing save a village of wigwams; though the guides still persisted that still farther north lay a region full of gold. Unwilling to adventure further to the north, they directed their course again southward, and reached the sea after a journey of probably 800 miles, their numbers being then greatly diminished. They constructed five boats, but of so frail a description that only desperate men would have ventured their lives in them; and Narvaez and most of his companions perished. Four of the survivors reached Mexico in the course of seven years, after a series of wonderful adventures and hardships, having travelled through Louisiana, Texas, and Northern Mexico, passing on from one tribe of Indians to another, and frequently as slaves. A marvellous story of wild adventure was theirs; and, like an earlier Robinson-Crusoe history, calculated to allure others into the same path.

The most remarkable of the followers of these men, and the believers of their story, was Ferdinand de Soto, a Spanish nobleman, and courtier of Charles V., by whom he was appointed governor of Cuba. De Soto had been a favourite companion of Pizarro in the conquest of Peru, and had distinguished himself in the storming of Cusco. Believing all the wonders which were related of the golden regions of Florida, he resolved to fit out an expedition at his own cost, and conquer these lands which were believed to be more beautiful and richer than those of Mexico and Peru. His own enthusiasm excited that of others; hundreds of young men of birth and fortune enlisted in this enterprise. Property of all kinds, vineyards, houses, valuables, were all sold to purchase arms, horses, and equipments for this undertaking. From the multitudes who offered themselves for this expedition of conquest and discovery, its leader selected six hundred young men, all adventurous and ambitious as himself.

The landing of this proud and gallant company on the shores of the new world was a splendid spectacle. Their banners floated in the soft breezes of Florida; the golden sun of Florida reflected itself in their armour; and thus they galloped onward, “very gallant,” says the old chronicle, “silk upon silk,” along the sea-shore of that region which they believed to be full of gold and great cities, and the destined conquerors of which they esteemed themselves to be.

Ferdinand de Soto, who, like Cortes, wished to remove all possibility of a retreat, either for himself or his companions, sent back all his vessels to Cuba, where he had left his young wife as governor during his absence. It was in the month of May, 1539, when they set out; taking with them weapons of all kinds, work-tools and an iron-forge, as well as chains and bloodhounds for the subjection of their captives. They also took with them a singular accompaniment for so gallant an army, a drove of three hundred swine, which were intended to stock the country when the commander should have selected his seat of government; and these swine were driven with the expedition through nearly the whole of its route.

They advanced onward through a wilderness day after day, and week after week, amid continual skirmishes with the natives, and ever, as they went, mass was performed by priests with all the pomp of Catholic ceremonial; and cruelties were practised on their captives, whilst they amused themselves by gaming. Thus they wandered onward through uncultivated regions for upwards of five months, and then established themselves in winter-quarters. In twelve months they had advanced to the ocean—to the very spot whence Narvaez had embarked; they had found plenty of maize, but no gold, and no cities but only small Indian villages. Next spring they broke up their winter camp, and set out for a remote country, of which they had heard, lying to the north-east, abounding in gold and silver, and the ruler of which was a woman.

They now advanced to the north-east, made a long and arduous journey, and arrived indeed at the territory of the queen, of whose wealth they had conceived such extravagant hopes; but the gold proved to be copper, and the silver thin plates of mica. Still de Soto advancing with a perseverance worthy of a better cause, came to the spring-heads of vast rivers, and thus reached the Highlands of Georgia, where he fell in with the peaceable and gentle Cherokee Indians. This was the second year of his wanderings. Some of de Soto’s companions wished to settle down here in the midst of a beautiful region, and enjoy the riches of an abundant soil. But no,—de Soto would not listen to such a scheme: he had promised a second Peru and Mexico to Spain, and he would not desist from his wanderings till they were found. He was a resolute man, of few words, and his followers yielded themselves to his commands.

Again he heard of gold still further north, and despatched two horsemen, with Indian guides, to visit the country; and once more they returned with copper; gold there was none. They wandered still further, advancing into Alabama, where was a large Indian town, Mavilla, afterwards Mobile. The Indians rose in arms; a battle ensued; the Spanish cavalry were victors: it was the bloodiest battle ever known in Indian warfare. The Indians fought for nine hours, and several thousands were slaughtered; the town was burned to ashes, and numbers of Indians perished in the flames. The Spaniards also lost many of their number, together with horses and the whole of their baggage. Their situation was terrible in the extreme; food they had none, nor medicines for the wounded—all were lost. Fortunately for them, however, the spirit of the Indians was so completely broken, that they could no longer molest them. Spanish ships, from Cuba, now awaited them with supplies in Pensacola Bay, near Mavilla. But, fearing that his disheartened soldiers might leave him, and as he had no tidings of gold and great glory to send home, and was too proud to send any other, he turned away from the sea-coast, and again advanced inland.

Winter overtook them in the northern parts of Mississippi, with severe frost and snow, and they established themselves in an Indian village, which the inhabitants had deserted at their approach, and in the fields of which the maize still remained uncut. The Indians returned in the depth of winter and in the dead of night, and set fire to the village. All that had been saved from the fires of Mavilla was now destroyed; they lost all their beloved swine, many of their horses, and all their clothes. Their sufferings were intense. De Soto ordered the chains to be taken from the captives, and new weapons to be forged. Clothed in skins and mats of ivy-leaves, he still advanced further west in search of the land of gold. For seven days they wandered on through wildernesses of forest and morass, and reached the Indian settlements in the vicinity of the Mississippi. De Soto was the first European who beheld that mighty river. He saw it then as the familiar trader on its banks beholds it now, rolling its immense mass of waters through a rich alluvial soil, more than a mile broad, and carrying trees and timber down its turbid flood.

In May, 1541, the Spaniards, having constructed boats, crossed the river, and proceeded westward into Arkansas. The natives, regarding them with reverence, and believing them to be the children of the sun, brought their blind to them, that they might receive sight. “Pray only to God who dwells in heaven,” replied de Soto, “and He will give you what you need.”

De Soto proceeded onward in the direction of the north-west, and reached the mountains of the White River, two hundred miles from the Mississippi; but there were neither gold nor precious stones in these mountains. They took up their third winter-quarters among peaceful Indians, who pursued agriculture rather than war; and the young cavaliers found their pastime in practising cruelties on the natives. In the spring, de Soto descended the White River, and became entangled in the midst of dismal swamps; Indian settlements there were none; the whole country was apparently interminable morass, forest, and cane brake. De Soto received in gloomy silence this report from scouts whom he had sent forward. Horses and men lay dying around him; and, to add still more to his distress, hostile Indians were coming up on all sides. His ambitious pride was now changed into deep melancholy, and his health gave way under the pressure of disappointed hope. Of his gallant company, three hundred alone remained.

Feeling the approach of death, he summoned his people round him, and named his successor. The following day he died. “His soldiers,” says Bancroft, “pronounced his eulogy by sorrowing for his loss. The priests chanted over his body the first requiem that was ever heard by the waters of the Mississippi.” His body was wrapped in a mantle, and, in the dead of night, his soldiers bore him to the middle of the Mississippi, and silently sunk his body in the river.

Singular to say, this was once more the month of May, four years from the time of his setting forth; “the spring burst forth gloriously over the Mississippi,” says a writer on this subject, “but de Soto rose up no more to meet it.” “The discoverer of the Mississippi,” concludes Bancroft, “slept beneath its waters. For four years he had wandered to and fro over a great portion of the continent in search of gold, but he found nothing so remarkable as his place of burial.”

The successor whom de Soto had appointed now attempted to lead back the remnant of the party by the way of Mexico; but, after several months’ wanderings and adventures among the hostile tribes of the western prairies, they retraced their steps to the Mississippi, on the banks of which they passed the winter. Here they constructed boats, which were ready for their embarkation in the month of July, and on the 20th of September, 1543, they arrived, half naked and famished with hunger, at a Spanish settlement near the mouth of the river Panuco, in Mexico.

Such was the discovery of the Mississippi.

The next adventurer on this ill-fated field was Louis Cancello, a priest of the Dominican order, anxious to convert the nations: his scheme, however, fared no better than those of others; the missionary priests were looked upon with suspicion, and Cancello and two of his companions fell martyrs to their zeal.

A spell seemed to rest upon these shores; nevertheless the name of Florida, as if it were full of good omen, was conferred upon the whole extent of American territory, not only on the portion of Florida proper on the Mexican gulf, but northward to Canada itself, all of which vast territory was claimed by Spain; still not a fort was erected on its shores, not a single colony was established; and when at length a permanent settlement of the Spaniards was effected in Florida, it was only by means of jealous and bloody bigotry.

But this will lead us back to France and French affairs. The good Coligny, admiral of France, who had long been seeking an asylum for the persecuted Huguenots in America, and who indulged the hope of establishing a French protestant empire in that country, obtained, after long perseverance, a commission from the king to that purpose, and in 1562 a squadron sailed for Florida, under command of John Ribault, of Dieppe, a brave man and a true protestant, accompanied by some of the best young French nobility, together with experienced troops. Arriving on the coast in the month of May, 1562, he discovered St. John’s River, which he named the river of May; the shores were covered with groves of mulberries, and the whole scenery was of a pleasing character. He sailed northward, giving French names to the rivers and prominent points of the shore, until he reached Port Royal entrance, near the southern boundary of Carolina, and here he resolved to found the colony. A fort was erected, and called Fort Charles, or the Carolina, in honour of Charles IX. of France, and this name, given a century before the English took possession, became the adopted name of the country.

The site of the infant colony delighted its founders; its harbour was capable of containing a whole navy; immense oaks, the growth of centuries, groves of pine, abounding with game, and flowers whose perfume filled the air, rendered the country beautiful. Ribault left twenty-six men to keep possession, and returned to France for fresh emigrants and supplies; but in the meantime civil war had begun to rage in that country, and the reinforcements for which Ribault had come were not to be had. The condition of the colonists became desperate; dissensions broke out among them; and the following spring they embarked in a hastily-constructed brigantine for their native land. Their provisions, however, were insufficient for the voyage, and they must have perished of famine had they not fallen in with an English vessel, which received them on board.

Again, two years later, Coligny renewed his endeavours for the colonisation of Florida, and three ships were sent out under the command of Laudonniere. Emigrants offered abundantly, for the fame of the climate of Florida had awoke general enthusiasm; life there, it was said, was extended to twice its usual limits, besides which, it was still believed that a golden realm lay hidden in its interior, and Coligny, who wished to obtain accurate knowledge of the country, engaged a painter called De Morgues to accompany the expedition, that he might make coloured drawings of all scenes and objects which interested him.

The misfortunes of the late colonists of Port Royal deterred the present from going thither; and after a little search they discovered so beautiful a situation, that the most delightful anticipations were excited. The Huguenots thanked God in hymns of praise for a glorious home of peace, as they believed, in the wilderness. The natives received them with the utmost kindness, rival tribes vying which should show them most distinction. Again the new colony received the name of Carolina.

Many of the emigrants, however, who had come out in this expedition were dissolute adventurers; their excesses turned the hearts of the Indians against them: the supplies were wasted, and famine threatened them. Under pretence of desiring to escape from famine, some of their number were permitted to embark for New Spain, but no sooner was this liberty granted than they commenced a series of piracies against the Spaniards. Before long their vessel was taken. Theirs was the first aggression in the New World, and soon brought down its punishment. The pirate vessel being seized, most of its men were sold as slaves, and such as escaped to Carolina were condemned to death by Laudonniere. Meantime the famine had become extreme; for three months there seemed no prospect but death for the little colony, and they must have perished had not Sir John Hawkins, the famous slave-merchant, who was just returning from the West Indies, whither he had conveyed a cargo of unfortunate Africans, relieved their wants, and even furnished them with a vessel, in which they were about to return to France, when Ribault arrived with fresh emigrants, abundant supplies, implements of husbandry, and domestic animals of all kinds. New life was infused into the colony; God was thanked fervently, and protestantism, it was hoped, had now found a safe and fixed abode in the beautiful Florida.

In the meantime news reached Spain that a company of French protestants had established themselves in the Spanish territory. Spain at home was inveterate against France, Catholicism against protestantism; and Pedro Melendez de Avilès, a soldier long accustomed to scenes of blood, a bigoted catholic, a naval commander, who, having often been employed against pirates, was accustomed to acts of summary vengeance, and who had been appointed to the government of Florida on condition that he subdued it in three years, introduced at least four Jesuit priests, and imported five hundred negro slaves for the cultivation of the sugar-cane, which it was intended to introduce, was now hastily despatched to his office, with the strict injunction to extirpate all heretics. The fury in Spain against the heretic-settlers in Florida waxed hot; between two and three thousand persons, soldiers, sailors, priests, Jesuits, etc., engaged in the expedition. Melendez, who considered that “celerity was the secret of success,” lost no time in any of his movements. Early in September he came in sight of Florida, and discovering some French ships, gave them chase, but could not overtake them. A few days later he reached a beautiful bay and river, and as it happened to be the day of St. Augustine, he gave that name to both. Soon after which, sailing northward, he discovered the French ships at anchor.

The French demanded his name, and the purport of his voyage. “I am Melendez of Spain,” replied he, “sent with strict orders from my king to gibbet and behead all the protestants in these regions. The Frenchman, who is a catholic, will I spare; every heretic shall die!”

The French ships not being prepared to fight, cut their cables and fled, and the Spaniards, unable to overtake them, returned to the harbour of St. Augustine. Here they took solemn possession of the continent in the name of the bigoted Philip II., whom they proclaimed king of all North America, and having performed mass, laid the foundations of St. Augustine, the oldest town, by forty years, of any in America.

In a few days the French put out to sea, with the intention of attacking the Spaniards within the harbour; but a furious storm overtook them, which lasted for more than two weeks, and wrecked every vessel; the Spaniards in the meantime lying in harbour comparatively safe. Melendez now marched his troops across the country, and suddenly made an attack upon the defenceless French settlement, putting to death all whom he could seize, men, women, and children, the aged and the sick; some few escaping, fled to the woods and afterwards took shelter on board the only two ships which had been spared by the tempest. The Spaniards, enraged that even a remnant had escaped, insulted and mangled the corpses of the dead. After these scenes of horror were completed, mass was performed, and the site of a church was selected on the very ground yet crimson and sodden with the blood of the inoffensive inhabitants.

The few who had escaped to the ships were in the utmost want of every necessary of life, worn out by fatigue, and destitute both of food and water. Melendez, who was aware of their wretched condition, promised them mercy if they would surrender themselves into his hands. Being men of truth themselves, they believed his words and capitulated. As they stepped on shore, however, their hands were at once tied behind them, and they were marched as prisoners into St. Augustine. A signal was given; and to the sound of drums and trumpets they were all massacred, with the exception of a few catholics and a few mechanics, who were reserved for slaves; and over their mangled remains was placed the inscription, “This is done not as unto Frenchmen, but as unto heretics.” Nine hundred true men, worshippers of God according to their protestant faith, are supposed to have perished on those shores, victims of bigotry.

The French government did not trouble itself about these things; the Huguenots and the French nation, however, resented them keenly. A bold soldier of Gascony, Dominic de Gourgues, a man whose life had been a series of adventures and hardships, sold his property to acquire the means of avenging the wrongs of his fellow-countrymen and believers. With one hundred and fifty men and three ships he embarked for Florida; they were but a handful against the Spanish power, but their object was not conquest—it was retributive justice, if not revenge. Like Melendez he came suddenly; and surprising two Spanish forts on St. John’s river, took them at once, together with a still larger fort on the spot where the unfortunate French settlement had stood. He executed summary justice, hung his prisoners on the trees, with this inscription, “I do this not as unto Spaniards or mariners, but as unto traitors, robbers, and murderers.” And the Indians, who had been ill-used both by the French and the Spaniards, looked on well pleased to see their enemies preying one on another.

Dominic de Gourgues, having avenged his countrymen, again disappeared with his ships, and France disavowing all cognisance of the circumstance, relinquished any claim to Florida; and Spain remained in possession. The Spanish dominion in America was magnificent. Cuba was the centre of the West Indian possessions. “From the remotest south-eastern cape of the Carribean,” says the historian. “along the whole shore, to the Cape of Florida, and beyond it, all was hers. The Gulf of Mexico lay embosomed within her territories.”

About the time when the impetuous Dominic de Gourgues returned to France from his swoop of vengeance in Florida, Sir Walter Raleigh, one of the most gallant spirits of the age, suddenly left his studies at Oxford to take part with the Huguenots in their struggles against the catholics. From his protestant friends he heard of the massacre which De Gourgues had avenged, and from that brave man himself, and his associates, learnt much also of the country where these scenes had occurred. The imagination of Raleigh was inflamed; on his return to England he found the same spirit afloat; a few of the unfortunate Huguenots had escaped to England, and their tale of wrong had interested even Queen Elizabeth herself. Hawkins, too, the slaver, who had relieved the famishing settlement, had much to tell of the wonderful regions where these things had been done; so had De Morgues, the landscape painter, who had fortunately escaped with, many sketches of its scenery. The leading minds of England were turned to Florida.

From the time of Cabot, England had never wholly given up her intercourse with the New World. English mariners, as well as French, frequented the fisheries of Newfoundland. Henry VIII. declared that he considered the discovery of the North “to be his charge and duty;” and Hakluyt records a wild sea-voyage, conducted by a man named Hore, in which marvellous things are told far outdoing those of the Ancient Mariner. The search for the north-western passage still continued; the fleets of Willoughby and Chancellor set sail. In the north their ships parted company. The fate of Willoughby was an early tragedy in those mournful and fatal seas. After a winter of great hardship, the vessels which went in search of him the following spring found him dead in his cabin, his journal open before him, containing a record of the ship’s sufferings to the very day of his death, and with his faithful crew lying dead around him. Chancellor, on the contrary, was driven in a north-eastern direction, and reached the harbour of Archangel, and thus the Russian nation, like another New World, emerged, as it were, into being. Joint-stock companies, for the discovery of unknown lands, were first formed in 1555. The marriage of Mary with Philip of Spain brought the magnificent discoveries and productions of that country into a closer proximity with England, and a desire to emulate the successes of Spain in the New World was excited.

The spirit of Elizabeth seconded that of her people. The nation had now assumed a more determined and a prouder front in their resentment of the attempt of Spain to render them an appendage to the Spanish crown, and by the successful struggle of protestantism against catholicism. England strengthened her navy; frequented the bays and banks of Newfoundland; sent out adventurers to Russia and Africa; endeavoured to reach Persia by land, and enlarged her commerce with the East, whilst her privateers lay in wait at sea for the rich galleons of Spain. The study of geography was universally cultivated, and books of travels and adventures by land and sea were eagerly read. Frobisher, the boldest mariner who ever crossed the ocean, set forth to discover the long-sought-for north-western, passage, and Queen Elizabeth waved her hand to him in token of favour, as he sailed down the Thames. Frobisher, like all the rest of the world, hoped to find gold. If the Spaniards had found gold in the south, England was confident of finding gold in the north. Elizabeth entered enthusiastically into the scheme of planting a colony among the wealthy mines of the polar regions, where gold, it was said, lay on the surface of the ground. Frobisher was followed by a second fleet, But they found only frost and icebergs.

Whilst Frobisher and his ships were thus vainly endeavouring to discover an el Dorado in the north, Sir Francis Drake was acquiring immense wealth as a freebooter on the Spanish main, and winning great glory by circumnavigating the globe, after having explored the north-western coast of America, as far north as the forty-third degree. Sir Humphrey Gilbert, also, a man of sound judgment and deeply religious mind, obtained a charter from Queen Elizabeth, in 1578, for the more rational purposes of colonisation. He set sail with three vessels, accompanied by his step-brother, Sir Walter Raleigh; but a series of disasters befell them; the largest vessel was wrecked, and a hundred perished, among whom was Parmenius, a Hungarian scholar, who had gone out as historian of the expedition. On the homeward voyage they were overtaken by a great storm. “We are as near to heaven on sea as on land,” said Sir Humphrey Gilbert, sitting abaft with a book in his hand. And the same night his little vessel went down, and all on board perished.

The brave spirit of Sir Walter Raleigh was not discouraged, though he deeply deplored the loss of his noble step-brother. He resolved now to secure to England those glorious countries where the poor French protestants had suffered so deeply; and a patent was readily granted, constituting him Lord Proprietary, with almost unlimited powers, according to the Christian protestant faith, of all land which he might discover between the 33rd and 40th degrees of north latitude. Under this patent, Raleigh despatched, as avant-courier ships, two vessels under the command of Philip Armidas and Arthur Barlow. In the month of July they reached the coast of North America, having perceived while far out at sea the fragrance as of a delicious garden, from the odoriferous flowers of the shore. Finding, after some search, a convenient harbour, they landed, and offering thanks to God for their safe arrival, took formal possession in the name of the queen of England.

The spot on which they landed was the island of Wocoken. The shores of this part of America are peculiar, inasmuch as, during one portion of the year, they are exposed to furious tempests, against which the low flat shore affords no defence of harbourage; in the summer season, on the contrary, the sea and air are alike tranquil, the whole presenting the most paradisaical aspect, whilst the vegetation is calculated to strike the beholder with wonder and delight. The English strangers beheld the country under its most favourable circumstances; the grapes being so plentiful that the surge of the ocean, as it lazily rolled in upon the shore, dashed its spray upon the clusters. “The forests formed themselves into wonderfully beautiful bowers, frequented by multitudes of birds. It was like a garden of Eden, and the gentle, friendly inhabitants appeared in unison with the scene. On the island of Roanoke they were received by the wife of the king, and entertained with Arcadian hospitality.”

Charmed by all that they had seen, the English voyagers returned, after a very short stay, having laden their ships with cedar, to which were added skins and furs obtained from the Indians, and sassafras, which had been introduced from Florida by the Spaniards, and was in great repute as a panacea; besides all this they carried with them two natives of this western paradise, Manteo and Wanchese. So glowing were the descriptions which they gave of the country that Elizabeth, who regarded it as an honour to her reign that during it these glorious lands had been discovered, conferred upon them her favourite appellation of Virginia.

The report brought by these heralds of discovery excited the utmost enthusiasm, and Raleigh, who was now knighted, made active preparations for a second expedition, which should consist of seven vessels, and take out one hundred and fifty colonists. Sir Ralph Lane was appointed governor of the colony, and Sir Richard Grenville, one of the bravest men of the age, took the command of the fleet. They set sail on the 9th of April, 1585, reckoning among their company many distinguished men—Cavendish, afterwards the circumnavigator, and Hariot, the inventor of the system of notation in modern algebra, being of the number. After some few disasters and narrowly escaping shipwreck on the coast of Florida, they reached Roanoke, where it was intended to found the colony. Manteo, one of the Indians who had accompanied the former party to England, and had now returned, being first sent on shore to announce their intention to the natives. Immediately afterwards a circumstance occurred which is to be regretted. Grenville, Lane, and others of the principal adventurers, made an excursion up the country, being everywhere well received by the natives. At one Indian town, however, a silver cup was stolen, and not being immediately restored, Grenville ordered the village to be set fire to, and the standing corn destroyed. This naturally incensed the natives.

The colonists, however, landed, and soon afterwards the ships returned to England; Grenville taking a rich Spanish prize by the way. Lane and his colonists explored the country, and Lane wrote home: “It is the goodliest soil under the cope of heaven; the most pleasing territory in the world; the continent is of a huge and unknown greatness, and very well peopled and towned, though savagely. The climate is so wholesome that we have none sick. If Virginia had but horses and kine and were inhabited by English, no realm in Christendom were comparable to it.” Hariot’s observations were directed to “the natural inhabitants,” and to the productions of the colony with reference to commerce; he observed the culture of tabacco, used it himself, and had great faith in its salutary qualities; he paid great attention to the maize and the potatoe, “which when boiled he found to be good eating.” He carefully studied the manners, customs, and faith of the Indians; exhibited to them his mathematical instruments, guns, clocks, etc., exciting in their minds the utmost respect and reverence for the English, as pupils and favourites of heaven. He exhibited the Bible to them wherever he went, and explained its truths, which affected them with profound regard and awe. The fire-arms which killed at a distance filled them with superstitious terror. Their wise men prophesied that “more of the English generation would yet come, who would kill theirs and take their places.”

In the meantime, the mass of the colonists, who were rabid for gold, listened to wonderful tales invented by artful Indians, who wished to be rid of these awe-inspiring strangers. The river Roanoke, they said, gushed forth from a rock near the Pacific Ocean, that a nation dwelt on its remote banks, skilful in refining gold, and that they occupied a city the walls of which glittered with pearls. Even sir Richard Lane was credulous enough to believe these tales, and ascended the river with a party in order to reach this golden region. They advanced onward, finding nothing, till they were reduced to the utmost extremity of famine. The Indians, disappointed by their return, resolved to cultivate no more corn, so that they might be driven from the country by want, and the English, divining their views, having invited the chief to a conference, fell upon him and slew him, with many of his followers. Lane was unfit for his office. This act of treachery exasperated the Indians to such a degree that they would no longer give him supplies. The colony was about to perish by famine, as the Indians desired, when Sir Francis Drake appeared outside the harbour with a fleet of twenty-three ships. He was on his way from the West Indies, and was now come to visit his friends. No visit could have been more opportune nor more welcome.

He supplied their wants; appropriated to them a vessel of seventy tons with pinnaces and small boats. All that they could need for sustenance or for the pursuit of discovery, he appointed for them. Strange however to say, a sudden storm came on; there was no security for the fleet but to weigh anchor and go out to sea; when the tempest was over, and Drake returned to the shore, he found all his preparations for the colony scattered as wrecks on the waves. The colonists were completely disheartened; and at their entreaties Drake received them on board his ships, and conveyed them back to England, after an absence of about twelve months, during which time they had accustomed themselves to the use of tobacco, which they now carried home with them.

They were gone; but scarcely had they left the shore, when a ship despatched by Raleigh, who had not forgotten them, arrived with all possible supplies, but which, finding the colony had vanished, set sail again homeward; and scarcely had it left the shore, when Sir Richard Grenville arrived with three ships, and he, too, after vainly searching about for the missing colony, departed, leaving fifteen men on Roanoke to keep possession for the English.