Big Chief Elizabeth: The Adventures and Fate of the First English Colonists in America (5 page)
Read Big Chief Elizabeth: The Adventures and Fate of the First English Colonists in America Online
Authors: Giles Milton
BOOK: Big Chief Elizabeth: The Adventures and Fate of the First English Colonists in America
10.49Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Visitors were staggered by Walter’s extravagance. “I have harde it credibly reported that Master Rawley hath spent within this halfe yeere above 3,000
l,
” wrote one shocked courtier. “He is very soumptous in his aparell … [and] all the vessell with which he is served at his table is silver with his owne armes on the same.” Ralegh’s newfound status had also encouraged him to hire servants, and once again he saw no reason to compromise. “He hath attendinge on hym at lest 30 men who[se] lyveryes are chargable, of which number half be gentillmen, very brave felloes, divers havinge cheynes of gold.”
l,
” wrote one shocked courtier. “He is very soumptous in his aparell … [and] all the vessell with which he is served at his table is silver with his owne armes on the same.” Ralegh’s newfound status had also encouraged him to hire servants, and once again he saw no reason to compromise. “He hath attendinge on hym at lest 30 men who[se] lyveryes are chargable, of which number half be gentillmen, very brave felloes, divers havinge cheynes of gold.”
After all the gifts that had already been bestowed upon young Walter, the transferral of Sir Humfrey Gilbert’s American grant into
his name passed unnoticed by the courtiers and diarists. But to Walter himself, it was the most welcome present of all, for he had already vowed to go down in history as the man who established the first English colony in America. Durham House had provided him with the ideal building from which he could plan and execute this bold adventure.
his name passed unnoticed by the courtiers and diarists. But to Walter himself, it was the most welcome present of all, for he had already vowed to go down in history as the man who established the first English colony in America. Durham House had provided him with the ideal building from which he could plan and execute this bold adventure.
Ralegh spent much of his time in his private study at the top of one of the towers, from where he could watch the Thames wherries and lightermen. It was here that he kept his library and his sea charts, and it was from this room that he would sift through the details of his enterprise. “I remember well his study,” wrote John Aubrey, who visited the palace some ninety years later, “which was a little turret that looked into and over the Thames and had the prospect which is pleasant, perhaps, as any in the world.” There was a well-beaten path to this room. Scientists and artists, metallurgists, draughtsmen, and botanists—anyone, in fact, who might have knowledge to contribute—were summoned to Ralegh’s study. Jews from Prague and mineral experts from Holland: all were welcome at Durham House, and there were often as many as forty experts living under the one roof.
On one particularly wet afternoon in late 1584, Ralegh had left his tower early and adjourned to the hall where his household had gathered to dine. Most of the men knew each other well—Michael Butler, Laurence Keymes, Philip Amadas, and Arthur Barlowe were old friends—but there was one figure missing from the familiar crowd. Thomas Harriot, a friend of Ralegh’s since their Oxford days, had yet to be drawn downstairs. He was still in his chamber, lost in his thoughts, idling away the rainy twilight hours.
Harriot was a young man, still in his early twenties, yet he was already on intimate terms with the highest echelons of Elizabethan society—no small achievement for someone of such humble background that no record exists of his parentage. That he should find himself in this position was due to his algebraic gift. He was a mathematical
conjurer, a wizard, who was also blessed with an imagination that spawned such side shoots that he had already solved some of the most impenetrable scientific conundrums of his day.
conjurer, a wizard, who was also blessed with an imagination that spawned such side shoots that he had already solved some of the most impenetrable scientific conundrums of his day.
Ralegh invested a fortune in turning Durham House into the nerve centre of his American enterprise. “I have harde it credibly reported that Master Rawley hath spent within this halfe yeere above 3,000
l
,” wrote a courtier
l
,” wrote a courtier
Harriot was the antithesis of Ralegh in looks, dress, and temperament. If the surviving portrait of him is to be believed, he cared little for his appearance. He had a high forehead and thin hair and had allowed his wispy beard to grow to a point, accentuating his elfish chin. His skin was sallow and his face gaunt, yet his bold nose and almond eyes rescued him from ugliness. He had long extolled the virtues of a sober, monkish diet; he abhorred the debauched habits of his contemporaries at Oxford, who spent so much of their time engaged in wassailing that the university had been forced to clamp down on their antics with a series of draconian decrees. Even dress had been subjected to restrictions, and louche student bachelors were forbidden to wear jerkins “of blew, green, redd, white, or any
other lite coller.” Such decrees had made no difference to Thomas Harriot. He bought an ankle-length black robe on the day he arrived in Oxford, and wore it until the day of his death.
other lite coller.” Such decrees had made no difference to Thomas Harriot. He bought an ankle-length black robe on the day he arrived in Oxford, and wore it until the day of his death.
Walter had been quick to spot Harriot’s genius and soon managed to enlist him in the cause of American colonisation. There were many hurdles to be overcome, not least of which was the challenge presented by the long ocean voyage. Few English mariners possessed sufficient skill to sail safely across the Atlantic, and Ralegh believed that navigation would never be reliable until “the aid of the mathematical sciences were enlisted.” Harriot, an expert in applied mathematics, was clearly the right man to train his captains. Ralegh offered him “a most liberal salary” if he would give instruction on the theory and practice of navigation. Harriot launched himself into this task with enthusiasm, and soon had his first breakthrough, solving the perennial problem of determining compass variation by a single observation of the sun. The solution was complex, innovative, and extremely important. First, he taught Ralegh’s navigators to use their compass to obtain a reading for the apparent direction of the sun at sunrise. He then instructed them to compare this with a theoretical reading for the latitude of the ship, which they could find in Harriot’s own tables of the sun’s declination at different positions of the globe. When these two figures were placed in a mathematical formula—also devised by Harriot—the mariners could calculate the variation of the compass. This in turn enabled Ralegh’s mariners to determine their true direction of sailing with considerable accuracy.
Harriot was given a small chamber underneath the eaves of Durham House. Soon after moving in, he erected a huge
radius astronomicus
—a primitive telescope—on the roof above his room, enabling him to take the most accurate celestial observations of his day. Even in his brief moments of relaxation, when the London drizzle brought to a halt his rooftop experiments, Harriot was unable to tear himself away from his beloved mathematics. On one wet afternoon he was listening to the rain beating on the roof with monotonous regularity when he found himself calculating how much water would enter his room were it not for the lead sheets over his head. “Over my chamber at Durham House,” he recorded, “the measured levell square (accountinge half the thickness of the wall which casteth in the rayne) … is 268¾ foote square.” He did not have a clock to help him solve his puzzle, so he used his pulse, assuming that each beat represented a second. By measuring the cubic volume gushing from the downspout, he was able to calculate that his room would collect eight and a half inches of water in every twenty-four-hour period.
radius astronomicus
—a primitive telescope—on the roof above his room, enabling him to take the most accurate celestial observations of his day. Even in his brief moments of relaxation, when the London drizzle brought to a halt his rooftop experiments, Harriot was unable to tear himself away from his beloved mathematics. On one wet afternoon he was listening to the rain beating on the roof with monotonous regularity when he found himself calculating how much water would enter his room were it not for the lead sheets over his head. “Over my chamber at Durham House,” he recorded, “the measured levell square (accountinge half the thickness of the wall which casteth in the rayne) … is 268¾ foote square.” He did not have a clock to help him solve his puzzle, so he used his pulse, assuming that each beat represented a second. By measuring the cubic volume gushing from the downspout, he was able to calculate that his room would collect eight and a half inches of water in every twenty-four-hour period.
Thomas Harriot had a towering intellect and was destined to become the leading light in Ralegh’s colonial enterprise
While Harriot taught Walter’s mariners how to sail across the Atlantic, Ralegh devoted his time to reading everything he could about America. He was particularly fascinated by the paint-daubed savages, and keen to ensure that his own colonists did not behave with the same murderous efficiency as had Spain’s New World governors. Terrible tales of the conquistadors had leaked back to Europe in dribs and drabs, and it was not until 1583 that a sensational new book,
The Spanishe Colonie,
blew the whistle on exactly how the native Americans were being wiped off the face of the earth. The author, Bartolomé de Las Casas, had written his account to correct the misdeeds of Spain’s governors, but he also shed considerable light on the sort of natives that Ralegh’s colonists were likely to meet. Far from depicting them as savages, as had Davy Ingrams, he had been charmed by the innocence of their lives. “[They are] very simple,” he wrote, “without suteltie or craft, without malice, very obedient and very faithfull.” They lived such frugal lives that he would have happily compared them with “the holy fathers of the desert,” were it not for the fact that they insisted on exposing their “shamefast partes”—a lack of modesty that even the sympathetic friar was unable to condone.
The Spanishe Colonie,
blew the whistle on exactly how the native Americans were being wiped off the face of the earth. The author, Bartolomé de Las Casas, had written his account to correct the misdeeds of Spain’s governors, but he also shed considerable light on the sort of natives that Ralegh’s colonists were likely to meet. Far from depicting them as savages, as had Davy Ingrams, he had been charmed by the innocence of their lives. “[They are] very simple,” he wrote, “without suteltie or craft, without malice, very obedient and very faithfull.” They lived such frugal lives that he would have happily compared them with “the holy fathers of the desert,” were it not for the fact that they insisted on exposing their “shamefast partes”—a lack of modesty that even the sympathetic friar was unable to condone.
Las Casas also warned of the dangers of colonising a land peopled with such “simple” folk. He recounted in graphic detail the methods by which these tribesmen had been systematically slaughtered by the Spanish. His descriptions are written with such grisly relish that it is hard not to conclude that he took a voyeuristic pleasure in
watching the butchery. He showed an unhealthy interest in torture by fire, and admitted that he had looked on as many an innocent victim was burned alive. On one occasion, he “sawe four or five of the principall lordes roasted and broyled uppon these gradeirons … they cryed out pitiously, which thing troubled the captayne that hee could not then sleepe; he commaunded to strangle them.” But the hangman refused to dispatch them so quickly. He filled their mouths with bullets “to the ende that they should not crie, [then] put [them] to the fire until they were softly rosted after his desire.” The Spaniards later refined their cruelty, choosing to roast only a part of their victim so as to cause maximum suffering. With one Indian, they “bent his feete agaynst the fyre untill that the very marrowe sprange out and trylled downe the soules of his feete.”
watching the butchery. He showed an unhealthy interest in torture by fire, and admitted that he had looked on as many an innocent victim was burned alive. On one occasion, he “sawe four or five of the principall lordes roasted and broyled uppon these gradeirons … they cryed out pitiously, which thing troubled the captayne that hee could not then sleepe; he commaunded to strangle them.” But the hangman refused to dispatch them so quickly. He filled their mouths with bullets “to the ende that they should not crie, [then] put [them] to the fire until they were softly rosted after his desire.” The Spaniards later refined their cruelty, choosing to roast only a part of their victim so as to cause maximum suffering. With one Indian, they “bent his feete agaynst the fyre untill that the very marrowe sprange out and trylled downe the soules of his feete.”
Las Casas wrote his account in 1542, yet it was not until 1583—when anti-Spanish feeling was running high in England—that it was finally translated. Much of it is exaggerated, but the English publishers did not care a jot. They knew they had laid their hands on dynamite: their preface virtually admitted that they were printing it because it contained all the necessary ingredients—violence, torture, and adventure—to make it an Elizabethan best-seller.
Ralegh, a more discerning reader than most, found himself fascinated by its detailing of the first encounters between the New World and the Old. He later admitted his debt to Las Casas for setting him thinking about the issue that was to become the greatest problem of colonisation—the treatment and status of the native peoples of America.
He had long been aware that to send colonists across the Atlantic without knowing a great deal more about the country would be both dangerous and foolhardy, but it was only when he sat down with his old friend and colonial enthusiast, Richard Hakluyt, that he was struck by an ingenious idea. Hakluyt had in his possession the account of Richard Hore’s disastrous 1536 expedition to America, and had also been gathering information about one of the earliest French forays across the Atlantic. Both of these voyages had stumbled
upon the same plan for discovering more about America, but whereas Hore had failed miserably, the French party had achieved a certain success. They had set sail with the intention of capturing a native American who, “having once atchieved the French tongue … mighte declare more substantially their minde and knowledge.” The hostage they selected was none other than the local “king,” a deliberate choice since it was believed that he would be “best infourmed of such partes as were somewhat remote from his owne countrey.” He proved stubbornly reluctant to play ball and had to be coaxed aboard the French vessel by devious means. He was invited onto the ship, “being required thither to a banquet,” but instead of being offered fine food and wines, he found himself “traiterously caryed away into France, where hee lived foure yeeres … and then dyed.” Whether the French learned anything of use from their captive is not recorded, but Walter quickly realised that here, in a nutshell, was the only surefire way to discover more about America. He immediately decided to send a small reconnaissance vessel across the ocean with orders to bring back a native American—one who could be taught to speak English.
upon the same plan for discovering more about America, but whereas Hore had failed miserably, the French party had achieved a certain success. They had set sail with the intention of capturing a native American who, “having once atchieved the French tongue … mighte declare more substantially their minde and knowledge.” The hostage they selected was none other than the local “king,” a deliberate choice since it was believed that he would be “best infourmed of such partes as were somewhat remote from his owne countrey.” He proved stubbornly reluctant to play ball and had to be coaxed aboard the French vessel by devious means. He was invited onto the ship, “being required thither to a banquet,” but instead of being offered fine food and wines, he found himself “traiterously caryed away into France, where hee lived foure yeeres … and then dyed.” Whether the French learned anything of use from their captive is not recorded, but Walter quickly realised that here, in a nutshell, was the only surefire way to discover more about America. He immediately decided to send a small reconnaissance vessel across the ocean with orders to bring back a native American—one who could be taught to speak English.
It was preferable that this Indian should be accompanied by other members of his tribe, and imperative that he come dressed in his native attire. Ralegh was a tireless publicist who was only too aware of the value of a tattooed Indian wandering through the Elizabethan court. Such an exotic creature was guaranteed to please the queen, and was also certain to help him raise money for his projected colony.
Other books
Dragon Stones (Book One in the Dragon Stone Saga) by Kristian Alva
Looking Good Dead by Peter James
Summer Rain (Lightning Strikes Book 3) by Barbara Freethy
Wild Darkness (A Bound By Magick Novel) by Dane, Lauren
All the Lovely Bad Ones by Mary Downing Hahn
Under Siege! by Andrea Warren
Behind the Palace Doors by Michael Farquhar
Forever (Time for Love Book 1) by Charles, Miranda P.
El Reino de los Muertos by Nick Drake
Big Guns Out of Uniform by Nicole Camden
