Croatoan

"A fictional account of a famous historical mystery."

The Merchant Royal was almost ready to retire. Captain Limbrey was nigh on 60; he was going to sail away to the New World and settle peacefully with his children and grandchildren, perhaps. But before he could, the crew had one last mission. One last mission, and then they could all go home in peace.

Captain Limbrey shared a special bond with his ship. She had served him faithfully for these past three years. Currently they were on their way back to England, after three long years trading with Spanish Merchants. En route they were asked to drop off a payment for some Spanish Soldiers just off the coast of Antwerp. The ship which was originally supposed to carry the payment had mysteriously caught fire in Cadiz. Captain Limbrey had grabbed this opportunity and had volunteered The Merchant Royal. It was a daunting task; the risk of being attacked by pirates was very high. The cargo they were carrying was a whopping 100,000 pounds of gold, 400 bars of Mexican Silver and hundreds of thousands in coins.

Captain Limbrey could almost feel the weight of the treasure on his shoulders. His mind made up all sorts of conspiracy theories. In one, his crew rebelled and decided to keep all the riches to themselves; only after they made the captain walk the plank of course. In another, more likely scenario, pirates attacked, and took all the gold for themselves. In another one, the boat sank purely from the weight of the treasure. The pressure was really getting to poor Captain Limbrey.

The captain had been drinking a little too much lately. His crew was worried about him. It was September 23^rd, 1841. A man by the name of Horace went up to him and offered to take over for a while. The captain was a little drunk, and Horace was worried they might be compromised.

The captain eyed Horace suspiciously, but after a while the thought of relief overcame the thought of his beloved ship being robbed. His apprehension completely died soon after the fourth glass of Scotch. The two began chatting animatedly. They talked of the treasure they carried; of the weather they were sailing in; of the small leakage problem from a few days ago; of going home; of settling down in the New World.

At this point, Captain Limbrey gave a long sigh.

“Horace, have you ever heard the story of the Lost Colony?” he asked.

Horace assumed that the man was going on one of his drunken ramblings, where he would speak of knowing about the treasures hidden and forgotten by man. “No, sir,” he replied. “What is that?”

“Ah, the Lost Colony. Never ceases to intrigue me. The greatest mystery this world has ever seen.”

Horace’s curiosity had been slightly aroused. He waited patiently for the captain to continue speaking.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to hear the story, Horace?” said the captain.

“Oh, well, why not,” said Horace, feigning nonchalance.

“Ok then, here goes...”

***

The year was 1587. Captain John White had spotted a piece of land beginning to appear at the horizon. They had finally arrived. It had been many long months since The Augustine had set sail. Long months ridden with disease, hunger, fatigue, stormy weather; it was as though the forces of nature were against them. And to add to that, John’s daughter, Eleanor was in her third trimester. He had had his concerns about bringing her on this voyage, but she had been adamant. She stubbornly refused to stay behind while her father settled down elsewhere.

John had set sail for the Roanoke Islands with the intention of establishing a new colony. It wasn’t that uncommon; quite a few Lords would take off to colonize some small country or another. What was special about this lad, you ask? He was going to be the first to sail to the Americas. Once his term had finished, he had packed up his bags and left with a crew of 45 and 114 other passengers, including his daughter. She had been four months pregnant at the time.

The crew anchored the ship and people started to descend on shore. Sooner than they realized, they had begun building huts and cooking meat over fires. For a few months, everything was fine. People were happy; they had built more permanent houses, started farming; a local tribe had even helped them understand the geography of the area. Eleanor gave birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl, Virginia; the first English child to ever be born in the Americas. John White was elected Governor by the colonists.

After a while, things started to go downhill. Trouble was stirring amidst the colonists. People would wind up dead and no one knew how or why. Crops had been burnt down. Women and children had gone missing. No one knew what was wrong. Rumours of supernatural beings began to float around. Trinkets of protection were being sold for quite exorbitant prices by tricksters and cheats. Danger was everywhere; or so they would make you believe. The colonists pleaded with Governor White to do something. White waved off all these rumours with nonchalance. He attributed everything to disease, accident, or just plain stupidity on the colonists’ part.

Around that time, a messenger arrived from London stating that war had broken out between Spain and England. Governor White had been ordered to return by the Queen. The colonists begged to return with him but he plainly refused. He wouldn’t even listen to his daughter’s pleas and warnings. He left behind the colonists, taking only the crew members he would need to sail back to England.

Three long years the war lasted. John had fought bravely, and was now ready to return to his daughter and grandchild in the Roanoke Islands. Nothing could have prepared him for what he would find when he got back.

He saw the same strip of land at the horizon as the Roanoke Islands came into view. Unsuspectingly, he waited as his men anchored The Augustine and dismounted the ship. He felt a shock beyond anything he had felt before in his life.

The colony was gone. Not a shred of it was left. No houses, no crops, no animals, nothing. It was as though none of it had ever existed. He walked over to the place where he had formerly lived with his daughter and grandchild. There seemed to be no sign that the house had ever been there. He wept and wept, wishing with all this might that he had just listened to his daughter. To this day, no one knows what happened.

One of the ship’s crew members suddenly called out from a distance. John followed the voice until he came to a group of his crew standing around a tree. There was one word carved across it.

***

“They were all gone? Just like that?” asked Horace.

“I’m afraid so,” said Captain Limbrey. “Not even the slightest trace of them was ever found.”

“Wow,” said Horace. This was very different from the captain’s usual stories. They both remained silent for some time.

“What was the word?” asked Horace finally. 

“Do not ask me that,” said Captain Limbrey. “That word is cursed. We shouldn’t speak of it with something so valuable on board.”

Horace was bursting with curiosity. He couldn’t control his emotions. “Write it down then,” he said.

The captain was hesitant, but his mind was currently unclear from the effect of the alcohol. He couldn’t find any rough parchment at that time.

Very unwisely, perhaps only because of the influence of the alcohol, he carved the word into the side of the ship.

***

The above story is a fictional account of real life happenings. For those who wish to know, The Merchant Royal sank on the very day mentioned in the story. Captain Limbrey and 50 of his men made it safely onto another ship which came to its rescue. However, the entire cargo of its ship, currently valued at more than 1 billion USD, went down along with 18 of the ship’s crew. The loss was devastating to the merchants of Antwerp and to Captain Limbrey as well. Needless to say, he had no happy retirement after this incident.

Many missions have been launched to locate the remains of this most valuable wreckage of all time, but to no avail. It is as though it had never existed. As recently as 2009, The Odyssey Marine exploration company were rumoured to have found it, but it was a false alarm. The whereabouts of this treasure remain one of mankind’s greatest mysteries.

As for The Lost Colony, every single fact mentioned in the story is 100% true.

Oh, and in case it wasn’t clear, the word was Croatoan.

Reviews

[Wez Hardyn]

I love a good historical mystery and you write very well. I'm confused about The Merchant Royal though - Wiki says it foundered in 1641, not 1841 as you have in your story - you just got the dates confused perhaps? I did like your idea about an accursed word - very cool spooky.