* Op. cit., vol. 1, p. 127.


Christopher Newport was gone; no ships--the last refuges, the last
possibilities for hometurning, should the earth grow too hard and the sky
too black--rode upon the river before the fort. Here was the summer heat. A
heavy breath rose from immemorial marshes, from the ancient floor of the
forest. When clouds gathered and storms burst, they amazed the heart with
their fearful thunderings and lightnings. The colonists had no well, but
drank from the river, and at neither high nor low tide found the water
wholesome. While the ships were here they had help of ship stores, but now
they must subsist upon the grain that they had in the storehouse, now scant
and poor enough. They might fish and hunt, but against such resources stood
fever and inexperience and weakness, and in the woods the lurking savages.
The heat grew greater, the water worse, the food less. Sickness began. Work
became toil. Men pined from homesickness, then, coming together, quarreled
with a weak violence, then dropped away again into corners and sat
listlessly with hanging heads.

"The sixth of August there died John Asbie of the bloodie Flixe. The ninth
day died George Flowre of the swelling. The tenth day died William Bruster
gentleman, of a wound given by the Savages .... The fourteenth day Jerome
Alikock, Ancient, died of a wound, the same day Francis Mid-winter, Edward
Moris, Corporall, died suddenly. The fifteenth day their died Edward Browne
and Stephen Galthrope. The sixteenth day their died Thomas Gower gentleman.
The seventeenth day their died Thomas Mounslie. The eighteenth day theer
died Robert Pennington and John Martine gentlemen. The nineteenth day died
Drue Piggase gentleman.

"The two and twentieth day of August there died Captain Bartholomew Gosnold