Chapter Text
*
HMS Britannia, the Atlantic Ocean
*
They set sail from Portsmouth aboard the HMS Britannia at the first fair wind. Sir Arthur determined that it would be prudent to ensure the girl's safety by accompanying her on the voyage himself: while he trusted his manservant with his life, Warrick's status was woefully low should an officer take a liking to the girl and attempt to claim her for his own. Sir Arthur was a sensible man, and he would not risk his investment's safety at the final hurdle. No: he would bring the girl to the Roanoke settlement himself, and see her firmly settled with an appropriate protector before departing. After careful consideration, he took only Warrick and the girl along. There was some thought to perhaps bringing some extra soldiers, but this seemed excessive and foolish. The Britannia had plenty of armed crewmen on board, and they would simply have to do.
The first leg of the voyage was uneventful, almost charmingly so. The winds were fair, and sped them on their journey, keeping the deckhands busy and out of Sir Arthur's hair. He took to reading in his cabin, or strolling on the deck, watching the horizon and thinking on what they were likely to find at the end of their voyage. A thriving settlement, hopefully; a deserted few ruins and some bones, perhaps. Likely as now, it would be something 'twixt the two, and this he could deal with.
It was as they were passing the halfway point that disaster struck. He was taking a promenade along the deck, talking amiably with Johnson, the first mate - the captain was frequently indisposed - when the ship's boy came running up to him breathlessly, beseeching him to come below decks, for his young charge had fallen ill.
Ill! This grave possibility was not something that had previously occurred to Sir Arthur. He hurried to Warrick's cabin, where Lucille was settled, the ship's physick sharp on his heels.
"What manner of devilry is this!" The cabin was in disarray; the girl bundled in blankets and bedlinens, only a mop of blonde hair visible from the top.
Warrick looked ashen. "She is fevered to the touch, sir, and cannot keep anything down. I thought that I'd best -"
"You did good, lad," the physick interrupted. He pressed a hand to the girl's forehead - where he found it amidst the bedding Sir Arthur was not sure - and frowned. "Aye, she is with an ague. Likely as not, she is not used to ship's rations, and has caught a chill from the sea wind from her weakness. A ship is no place for a wee one," he informed Sir Arthur with some spirit, as if it was Sir Arthur's fault that the dratted thing was sickly!
"Will she live?" Sir Arthur demanded. Warrick paled even further.
The physick prodded the invisible flesh some more, eliciting a squeak of protest from the girl. He smiled at this; evidently showing some spirit was a good sign. "She's a strong 'un, yes. I gather she wasn't ailing ashore?"
"No, sir," Warrick supplied, "she was exceeding healthy."
"Ah." The physick hum-med and ah-ed for a while yet, while Sir Arthur shifted anxiously from foot to foot, and the girl's squeaks grew ever sharper. At the last, she emerged, pink-faced, from beneath the bedding.
"Don't poke me!"
The physick laughed. "She will be fine, Sir Arthur, don't fret. All she needs is some good strong broth, and she will regain her feet." He stood, and patted Lucille on the head. She scowled up at him. "Oh - and you may think to feed her some lemons, sir," he added as an afterthought. "I understand there are some preserved on board. They are not normally needed for sailors, them being used to such a life, but for a growing child, it would be a good thing." He bowed and left.
Sir Arthur rounded on Warrick, who was anxiously trying to bundle Lucille back into her blankets. Sweating a fever out was all well and good, but was the boy perhaps deficient in some way to not pay attention to obvious instructions? "Don't just stand there, Warrick, you malcontent! Get the girl some lemon!"
*
It turned out that getting preserved lemon into a girl who really did not wish to eat any was something of a challenge. Warrick bore it admirably, however, and Sir Arthur only heard of the difficulty from the first mate, who found the sight of a grown man struggling with a wee girl's tantrum somewhat amusing. Still, it did the trick, and Lucille got better, bit by bit.
Sir Arthur was relieved. He did not care for the child personally - she was, after all, not his own issue, and no link was required between them - but it would have been a disaster if she had perished on the journey. He was yet more glad that he had decided to come on board the Britannia, as goodness only knew what sort of mischief might have happened had he not been around.
They were nearly at their destination, however, and Lucille prospered. Still unsteady on her feet, she was able to accompany Warrick on promenades along the deck, oblivious to the anxious looks the sailors cast her way. Sir Arthur trusted that this was due to Lucille's age, rather than her sex; he would not be amused to find such foolish superstitions aboard one of Her Majesty's ships.
Well, they would be rid of her soon, with any luck. He did not look forward to a similar return voyage should the colony prove deserted. No; he was quite anxious to settle the girl and be gone, his part in this fulfilled. Before him, the horizon stretched out endlessly across the sea, promising nothing but more clouds and waves and seawater washed across the deck. Would they never reach land? He was beginning to despair of it.
*
Sir Arthur was reading when the knock on the cabin door came. He carefully closed the book and stowed it to one side. The cabin was small, but neat and compact, and provided that he took care of his belongings when the steward or the ship's boy were unavailable, it was a pleasant enough space. At any rate, it had served for the many months of the outbound voyage, and it would hopefully continue to do so when they eventually ventured back to England's green hills. "Yes?"
His manservant entered timidly, holding the squirming girl firmly by the hand: after Lucille's sickness, Sir Arthur had given strict instructions that she was not to be left unattended for even a minute, lest she be overcome by the vapours or some such and find herself overboard. Warrick had taken these words to heart, not in the least bit eager to find his life forfeit for want of a little attention over so manageable a young charge. "The first mate informs me that we have sighted land, Sir Arthur."
"The correct land, I trust? I wager that we are in no shape to sport with the Spanish."
Warrick gave him the thinnest of smiles. By Jove, the boy had been in a wretched mood this voyage! "No sir. It is the correct land. By all accounts, we have found the very spot of the Roanoke colony, not an hour's journey away from here. We will begin disembarking later on in the day, and - the Captain's regards, and will you be disembarking with the first group?"
And will the girl accompany you, was his unspoken question. Now there was a genuine conundrum. On the one hand, Sir Arthur was eager to finally deliver the wretched child to her new caregivers, and see to it that she was safely installed in a strongly protected home on the colony. It would thus be expedient to bring the girl along when they disembarked. On the other hand, prudence dictated that he should ensure that the area was indeed secure before risking the hide of his valuable charge. There was no sense in sending the girl to land if the land itself had been compromised! "I will go ashore alone. You will remain here with the girl," he decided at last. "Keep her out of sight and well-fed. I will send for you if I judge it appropriate."
"Yessir," Warrick said, and took that as his dismissal. He exited without further ado, taking the silent - yet still squirming - Lucille with him, presumably to ensure that she was safely stowed away below-deck.
Sir Arthur took the opportunity to pack a few key essentials for his short trip ashore. In truth, he did not anticipate any problems, as doubtless the first mate would have noticed plumes of smoke or similar signs of destruction rising from the encampment, which indicated that it would be safe to approach, at least for the time being. That said, it would probably be a sound idea to be prepared for the worst. He thought on it some more, and then tucked his never-used pistol into his waistband, beside his sword. The gentlefolk ashore could not be a match to his skill as a swordsman, no doubt, yet wild beasts would be best dealt with swiftly and decisively - and from as far away as possible.
God have mercy, he'd be glad to be back on English soil again, and able to lock away this odious contraption! In truth, it made him feel almost lawless, to walk about armed with such a barbaric weapon. No better than a common brigand, really, and that was an unpalatable thought. He banished it swiftly: what could not be helped must be endured 'til it passed.
After a time, there came a second knock on the door, and a man's gruff voice, "Sir Arthur! Are you prepared?"
He opened the door to the first mate and regarded the man thoughtfully. "I believe so, Master Johnson." He gestured towards his dress, and towards the small bag lying on his bunk. "I trust that these will be sufficient?"
The first mate laughed. "Aye, sir. Shall we to land, then?"
And so they did, and the less said of it, the better. The seas had been deceptively mild during their voyage, with a favoured wind to bring them to the New World in such a swift manner. Closer to shore, however, the waves were taller than Sir Arthur had expected, and the winds whipped at them all, 'til he was forced to clutch the side of the longboat for balance.
"Not long now, sir," Johnson said reassuringly.
Sir Arthur glared at him balefully, but did not answer. Johnson was a good man - solid and dependable, and not itching to rise above his station, like some ships' officers - and he did not wish to alienate him, given their long voyage home.
They landed on a relatively rocky beach; too rocky a beach to moor a boat upon, Sir Arthur would have thought, but he was no judge of such matters. Two able seamen leapt from the boat as they approached the shore and moored it 'twixt some likely boulders, keeping the longboat sheltered from casual glances. "We do not wish to be spotted by any hostiles," Johnson explained, and gestured towards another two of their party to scout ahead.
"Now what?"
"Now we wait, until they make contact with the colony." Johnson seemed pensive, and Sir Arthur knew that he himself must have been wearing a similar expression. The previous attempt at setting down roots in this colony had resulted in a dispirited group demanding to return home, and fifteen loyal soldiers holed up in a cellar, their bones picked clean. Goodness only knew what the two scouts might find - rumours indicated that the demons, whatever they might have been, had moved on from these parts, but supposing they had returned? Supposing they were waiting to see what meal or titbit England would send them in the form of carpenters and churchmen? He was suddenly glad that he'd kept the child aboard. Wretched and abnormal she might be, but he had no wish to answer for her being gobbled up by some foreign monster. If the colony was gone, well, he had done his duty in securing the girl and bringing her this far. It could not be helped.
After such thoughts, he felt that he could be forgiven for being so thoroughly startled when the two seamen returned: unharmed, and escorted by three colonists, properly attired and not the least bit devoured.
"We found the settlement, sir," one of the men said unnecessarily, and gestured the newcomers towards Johnson.
"You must be Master Johnson," one of the newcomers said, and bowed slightly in greeting. "I am Ananias Dare. I am in charge of this settlement." He was a handsome man; though dark from the sun, he was able-bodied and well-favoured in looks. His clothes, though several years out of the current fashion, were still in good repair, and he, too, carried a sword at his side: a gentleman.
"Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir," Johnson said perfunctorily, and bowed towards Master Dare, turning mid-bow to gesture in Sir Arthur's direction. "May I present Sir Arthur Allen, Sir Walter Raleigh's representative."
"Sir Arthur, a pleasure," Master Dare bowed to him in turn, and gestured back towards the inland; presumably towards the settlement. "Might we begin the walk back whilst we converse? The sun will be high, soon, and will make the walk difficult." At the party's nods of acquiescence, they set off at a gentle pace, mindful of allowing the two dignitaries time and adequate space to interact before their official arrival at the camp.
"You appear to be in good health, sir," Sir Arthur said by way of greeting. "I trust that the country air agrees with you?"
"Indeed, yes. I find that it fills the mind and body with good humour to be doing my Queen's work in this land, and in such challenging surroundings."
In other words, Sir Arthur understood, it had been a difficult year, but they had survived, and there was no more to be said of it. "And your family is keeping well, I hope? The girl prospers?" Oddly, he was vaguely interested in the child. The birth of Virginia Dare, the first child of the colonies, had been greeted with delight back in court, and he looked forward to seeing her for himself. Thinking on it, she was of the same age as the Blessed girl - was she not? - and perhaps this was an opportunity to be taken. It would do them both good to be made friends, perhaps, and thus offer protection to one while she was helpless, and protection for the other in all times after.
He was so busy thinking on this sudden and marvellous accidental thought that he almost missed the tightening of Master Dare's face. "The girl lives, Sir Arthur, but that is all that can be said for her." He sighed. "In truth, it has been... a difficult year."
Oh. "Indeed," Sir Arthur said, and kept his counsel to himself for the duration of the walk. He would see for himself the state of the Dare household soon enough.
*
The Roanoke colony
*
It was an odd community, to be sure. Perhaps slightly larger than a hamlet, yet still decidedly rustic in character, in that the air smelled relatively fresh, instead of being loaded with the stench of gathered human life. "We put the waste outside of the community boundaries," Dare was saying. "It keeps the air smelling sweet, and it helps keeps a great number of the larger predators away."
Sir Arthur regarded the exposed houses doubtfully. "Do you have such a large number of predators?" He asked. "It was my understanding that the demons who preyed on the former outpost were the major threat."
Dare sighed. "And so it was when we first arrived, 'til a few months later, a little after the first dwellings were completed, when a bright light was observed in the far-away hills. A few of the men wanted to investigate; being forbidden from doing so, they disobeyed and left in the dead of night, and were not heard from again."
"Demons?" Sir Arthur hazarded. They had reached the door of a dwelling marginally larger than the rest; Sir Arthur took it to be Dare's residence.
"Please, do come inside - I do not know, in truth. All that was left in their place was an increase in the oddness of the creatures who approached our encampment."
"How so?" He was waved inside the main reception room, where a bondswoman was waiting with a ready flagon of the local brew. "Thank you, no; I'll take water."
Dare smiled tightly as he seated his guest and himself. "Thunder lizards, Sir Arthur! Creatures not mentioned in the Bible nor any civilised text! As if from the depths of Gehenna they came, and trampled our crops, and attacked our people. We would surely have perished that first winter, had we not made contact with the local Indian tribe."
This was an oddity. By all accounts, the previous settlement had not made contact with any of the local savages. How had this one managed it, in such a short space of time? "Indeed," was what he said instead, and took the flagon of water from the bondswoman with a curt nod. "How did they assist you?"
Dare waved a hand towards the open window, from whence the sight of bundles of tightly-bound hay was evident. "They brought us gifts of food during the winter and the Starving Time, 'til we could plant our own crops again. Moreover, they showed us how to protect the crops from the marauding creatures who would damage them. It is a curious thing, Sir Arthur," here he frowned thoughtfully, "but they say that they had also not encountered the thunder lizards before. The wildcats, the bears and the man-like demons - yes, these they knew of, and gave us many herbs to protect the camp. The thunder lizards?" He sighed. "The thunder lizards are new, and worrisome to them."
Sir Arthur sat in silence for a time, thinking. This was not good news; not in the least. That the colony had made peaceful contact with the local savages was fortuitous, yes, yet that it should have done so in such circumstances was not to be borne. They were not forging an alliance out of choice; they had been pressed into it by circumstances and a worsening in their surroundings. The previous colony had disbanded after but a twoyear; this one had lasted barely that long. Was this recounting of their woes a precursor to a demand for sanctuary, and return voyage? If so, all of Sir Walter's dreams were as ashes, and their investment in this place was thrown to the wind. Moreover, the months spent coddling the Blessed child, and the trouble of purchasing her to boot, had been expensive. Would Sir Walter recoup the costs incurred? It was unlikely. They would all end up out of pocket, and the East India Trading Company would be free to take over the entirety of the New World, and exploit it to their fullest extent.
And yet... if this New World was as accursed as it was proving to be, perhaps it was for the best to let them have the damned enterprise, and watch them burn their own fingers upon it.
"Am I to take it that you believe this colony is not viable any longer, Master Dare?" He inquired at last.
Dare, to his credit, looked offended at the very thought, though there was something... something Sir Arthur could not quite put his finger on. "Certainly not, sir! I have not given my family's blood to simply walk away now!"
What an odd thing to say, Sir Arthur thought. "I beg your pardon."
The bondswoman was back. "Master Dare, sir," she said timidly. "Lady Virginia is asking for you."
Dare nodded in response. "Thank you, Anna. I shall be to see her directly."
She bobbed a curtsey and left.
Dare slanted Sir Arthur a look. "Would you like to meet the first child of the colonies, Sir Arthur?"
Yes. He would.
*
This was not what he had expected. The girl was indeed Lucille's age, but instead of possessing Lucille's clear pale skin and sparkling eyes, she was clearly ailing. Her blonde hair was as straw about her face, and her cheeks were hollow. Sir Arthur would not credit Master Dare as the sort of man to starve his only child - and the first child of the colonies, no less - and thus took this, too, as further evidence of the girl's ailing health.
Dare knelt by her side and whispered platitudes in her ear, tucking her lank hair behind her ears. After a time, he gestured for Sir Arthur to step closer.
He did so, bringing his kerchief to his face to ward off any foul air that might bring the illness across. "I am Sir Arthur Allen, sent on behalf of Sir Walter Raleigh, and the Queen's directive. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mistress Dare."
The girl smiled faintly. "Yes, sir." And, just like that, her eyes closed.
Sir Arthur looked at Master Dare in alarm. "Is she -"
"Merely asleep. She is tired." He gestured towards the door, and they left quietly. Master Dare closed the door with a soft 'click'. "She is always tired."
"Her mother must be anxious," Sir Arthur said, at a loss as to what condolences to offer for a child clearly dying though not yet perished.
Dare didn't look at him. "Her mother passed away but a month ago, from the same ailment. Virginia has been bed-ridden for close to four months; the physicks say that she will follow her mother in perhaps a week; maybe two. "
Sir Arthur said nothing. It would be inappropriate, after all, to express too much of an interest in another man's troubles. Still, he thought, here was an opportunity; a fortuitous happening indeed...
*
end part ii