Chapter 3

There was no minister in our company to object, so I wedded Abeque in the Croatoan fashion without requiring her to undergo baptism first. My reasoning was that God would surely prefer any child we conceived to not be a bastard than that we delay for the arrival of a parson from England on a ship that we were losing hope would ever come. After the wedding, we hurried to build a house where I would live with my new bride and her brother. I had learned enough of the language to understand that Hurritt took no interest in women himself and would attach himself to my household rather than marry. I was quite happy with the arrangement, and divided my attentions among them equally, which begot no jealousy in either partner.

It was the happiest winter I had ever spent, and in April, Abeque informed me that her monthly flow had stopped and she was with child. Around the same time, the weather grew warm enough that I could forsake moccasins and go barefoot in the trousers Abeque had made me, and in the sultry humidity of late June I began going as naked as the savages. Hurritt and I made many visits to Roanoke to gather crabs, always under the watchful eyes of the Secotan, and when not so engaged we went into the forest to hunt deer. We would need to dry plenty of venison ahead of the coming winter, when I anticipated welcoming an additional mouth into the household.

The baby came in January, on what must have been the coldest day of the year. I christened him Walter in honor of our plantation’s namesake, and Abeque gave him the Croatoan name Kitchi, which means brave. Shortly after his birth, Abeque informed me that we could not lie together until he was weaned, so that she did not have two babes at the breast at the same time, although we continued to pleasure one another with our hands and mouths, and I lay with Hurritt as often or oftener than before.

In the next year, Alsoomse died of a fever which struck both our village and the neighboring kingdoms. The mortality was so great that there were now scarcely more savages than English in the village, and it was agreed that Abeque and I should rule over it jointly in Alsoomse’s place, with a promise being made to Manteo that we would support him in making good his claim over Roanoke if Governor White ever returned, a prospect which was now looking quite dim.

It was with great surprise that I fetched up on Roanoke Island one sultry August day to hear an old English song that I had not heard since departing London three years prior drifting through the trees. Nervous for fear of some Spanish ruse, Hurritt and I crept across the island, to find none other than Captain Dare standing in the remains of our former settlement. We hailed him from the tree line and ran out to greet him.