Work Text:
Preface
The following first-hand account has been translated to be understood by modern readers, as the writings were believed to have been written in the late 16th century, mainly the 1580s or 1590s.
The story carried on from generation to generation along the coast of North Carolina (previously Virginia) goes that the original papers on which the alleged entries were written have long withered away. However, before they were gone, the entries were copied, carved onto wooden plates and stone. Finally, in the 18th century, they were printed on paper once again, with the title The Ship That Never Came, and that is how the story of Pilgrim Catherine and her Croatan lover was known nationally.
There is no physical evidence of the author and her Native American lover existing. Skeptics have accused the supposed descendants of Catherine Tree-Bird and her husband Tall Tree of having faked the carved wooden plates and stones. Even so, the writings of the supposed survivor of the “lost” Roanoke Colony has been cherished folklore for many, many years.
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The Ship That Never Came:
The Writings of Catherine Tree-Bird,
A Roanoke Colony Survivor.
Here be the story of how I came to wed a woodsman Indian
Of the Lands of what we call Virginia of the New World:
A long time after the English ship that had brought us
To this wretched Land, I came to not know the day or the month.
After another long time, not one of us on Roanoke
Came to know the year. A fear like a plague came over us.
We were distressed for we no longer knew when the day
Of the Sabbath arrived and passed, and we were distressed
At the thought of having been stranded. The men aboard
The English ship had promised to return shortly
With tools and livestock, and yet the winter of that year
Passed on to the spring. We feared a great storm sank the vessel
Beneath the sea, or had been invaded by a band of pirates.
We cried ‘O Lord help us’, and He gave unto us
The neighboring Indians, the Croatans, who nursed us
Through the bitter cold of that first winter and all the winters
To follow, for that English ship never came back for us.
Without these kind woodsmen, we surely would have perished,
For when we landed, we knew nothing of the beasts
And the flowers and the trees of the New World,
Of the rivers and the seas. We knew not what to gather.
We knew not how to garden the soil here.
The sun was much hotter than the English sun, and there were
More bothersome flies. When we were sick, the Indians
Nursed us with their flowers. When we had no houses,
They gave unto us their labors. We came to learn that the meat
Of the beasts also differed to the meats of home, as the fish
And deer and little land creatures were different as well.
Amongst the woodsmen that nursed us on Roanoke
Was the man that would become my husband.
I knew not his name.
When we no longer knew the days or months or years
Of our Lord, we came to tell the time as the Indians did,
Who did so in seasons, in the phases of the moon,
In the charted days of gardening, fishing, hunting, harvest,
And hibernation. After the second long time came to pass,
There came the decision to migrate and live amongst
The Indians on Croatoan. We were sailed across in canoes.
The English men and women were wary still of the woodsmen,
Though they be what God had sent. But the children,
Creatures free of prejudice, were full of glee and enjoyed
The boat rides further southwards. I too felt glee,
Though I was sweating through my dress and the flies
Were biting me. Come my turn to cross with one or two others,
I was in awe, as I was reminded of God’s beautiful work,
That this Land though wretched and hot and full of flies
Was also a sort of Promised Land. Though they did not dress
Or speak like us, I thought the Indians to be our kin
In this unseen part of God’s creation.
However, I am moody, and my glee was short lived.
Of our first days on Croatoan, I was torn, torn by wrath
And ungratefulness, of anger for my mother and father
Who I am to honor. I longed to be home, for a Land
Just as wretched as this but a wretchedness I had come
To miss like childhood days, for that is where my childhood
Days were, a Land of streets and buildings and foods abundant.
I spoke harshly to my mother and father and to my kin
The Indians. Though we had more meat and crops
Than on Roanoke, which had been made bare even of the sticks
That which made our first shelters, I ate not. Though the Indians
Gave unto us places in their homes until us Englishmen erected
Our very own, I rested not.
When our new home was complete, I had calmed much,
And yet still I ate and rested and prayed little. Slowly, like a flower
In the last days of winter and the first days of spring, I was healed
Of my grief. The eyes and laughter and games of the white
And brown children warmed my heart of frost.
One of the Indian children had an elder brother accompany them
In their play, and it be the man I saw on Roanoke
And the man I would wed. In our own time, we came to
Understand one another. A chart of pictures and words was made
To help us Englishmen and Indians speak to one another,
To make this white-and-brown-peopled village whole.
Through this chart, I was able to decipher that his name
Had something to do with a tree, like Tall Tree or Strong Tree.
A suitable name, as he was rooted and patient and firm.
It is wonderful that though we be white and brown,
People of two tongues and religions, our courtship was like
The courtships of home. We blushed from embarrassment
And gave unto each other gifts. Our first kiss was shaky
And secret and thrilling, as I was not permitted to do
Such a thing before marriage. The holding of the hand
Was also secret and thrilling.
There was fear in my heart of my English parents not accepting
An Indian into our family. Perhaps they saw the Indians
As neighbors and friends but not as possible sons-in-law.
So I prayed to God and in the end, my fears were all for naught.
In our own time, we came to be husband and wife.
To satisfy our people and their customs, there were two ceremonies.
As a wedding present, his mother gave unto me a dress
Of animal hide. I wore it for our Indian wedding dance,
As my white Christian clothes were not made for such movement
And merrymaking. I was quite embarrassed to dance in such a way
Before my mother and father, but my husband looked upon me
With so much adoration in his eyes as I did.
I continued the dance for him. Perhaps as a jest, Tall Tree’s friends
Called me his wife Tree Bird, and that is how I came to be
Catherine Tree-Bird.
So I say unto you my English-Indian-blooded children
And grandchildren: one may one day watch the horizon
For a ship that will never come, but do not despair,
For that is alright.
End