ancholy face, set
between a lace collar and thick, dark hair.

A Queen and a Cardinal--Mary Tudor and Reginald Pole--had stood sponsors
for the father of Edward-Maria Wingfield. This man, of an ancient and
honorable stock, was older than most of his fellow adventurers to
Virginia. He had fought in Ireland, fought in the Low Countries, had
been a prisoner of war. Now he was presently to become "the first
president of the first council in the first English colony in America."
And then, miseries increasing and wretched men being quick to impute
evil, it was to be held with other assertions against him that he was of
a Catholic family, that he traveled without a Bible, and probably
meant to betray Virginia to the Spaniard. He was to be deposed from his
presidency, return to England, and there write a vindication. "I never
turned my face from daunger, or hidd my handes from labour; so watchful
a sentinel stood myself to myself." With John Smith he had a bitter
quarrel.

Upon the Discovery is one who signed himself "John Radclyffe, comenly
called," and who is named in the London Company's list as "Captain John
Sicklemore, alias Ratcliffe." He will have a short and stormy Virginian
life, and in two years be done to death by Indians. John Smith quarreled
with him also. "A poor counterfeited Imposture!" said Smith. Gabriel
Archer is a lawyer, and first secretary or recorder of the colony.
Short, too, is his life. His name lives in Archer's Hope on the James
River in Virginia. John Smith will have none of him! George Kendall's
life is more nearly spun than Ratcliffe's or Archer's. He will be shot
for treason and rebellion. Robert Hunt is the chaplain. Besides those
whom the time dubbed "gentlemen," there are upon the three ships
English sailors, English laborers, six carpenters, two bricklayers,
a blacksmith, a tailor, a barber, a drummer, other craftsmen, and
nondescripts. Up and down and to and fro they pass in their narrow
quarters, microscopic upon the bosom of the ocean.

John Smith looms large among them. John Smith has a mantle of marvelous
adventure. It seems that he began to make it when he was a boy, and for
many years worked upon it steadily until it was stiff as cloth of gold
and voluminous as a puffed-out summer cloud. Some think that much of it
was such stuff as dreams are made of. Probably some breadths were the
fabric of vision. Still it seems certain that he did have some kind
of an extraordinary coat or mantl