Part 14

"This is the Deuce of a cold place for a colony," they said. "Home to Merrie England!"

Gilbert was forced to yield to their angry demands, and re-embarked.

"Don't sail in that rattle-trap of a Squirrel," said his officers to him. "She'll founder!"

But Sir Humphrey had that obstinacy which characterized General Braddock.

"No: I will not forsake the little company, going homeward," said he. "I'll stick to my ship."

He stuck--and--when they hailed him one stormy night, he said:

"Be of good cheer, my friends: we are as near to Heaven by sea as by land!"

That night the Squirrel was sailing a little in advance of the other ships, and, as those on board the Golden Hind watched the frail barque, they saw her lurch, heave, and then sink from view. Thus the soul of brave Raleigh's kinsman found a watery grave. He had paid for his obstinacy with his life.

Raleigh was overwhelmed with grief when he learned of the death of his heroic half-brother.

"I'll yet found my Colony," said he. "And I'll go myself."

This pleased the jealous courtiers more than ever, for they would now have him out of the way for all time.

With his ample wealth, the indefatigable adventurer found no difficulty in fitting out an expedition, and, in the year after the death of Sir Humphrey Gilbert, he sent forth two vessels to explore the coast of the Carolinas.

"I'm going to stay at home and face my enemies!" said the gay blade. "Again good luck and God Speed!"

They had a fortunate voyage, and, when they returned, the Captains told of the beautiful harbors, fine rivers, magnificent forests and abundance of game. The Queen was delighted, and at once named the fair country for herself, with characteristic egotism. That men might know that this fruitful land was explored in the time of the Virgin Queen, it was called "Virginia." Raleigh was wild with delight.

And the jealous courtiers looked dejected and sad.

A fleet of seven vessels--with one hundred colonists--was now sent to Virginia, under the command of one Grenville, who was eager to become suddenly rich: a disease as common now as in those venturous days. No sooner had the people landed, than they began to treat the savages with such harshness and rapacity--that they had to gain their own food, as the natives would have nothing to do with them. Dissensions tore the little community into shreds. So they were only too glad to return with the gallant old sea-dog, Sir Francis Drake, when he happened that way, with a large amount of booty which he had just taken from the Spaniards in the southern seas.

Another expedition was sent over by Raleigh; and yet another. They were failures. But there was one, single thing which was not a failure. This was the discovery of a herb called "Yppowoc," or tobacco, the leaves of which--when dried--were smoked by the natives in long pipes.

Curious Sir Walter had a jeweller in London make him a silver pipe, after the fashion of those used by the native Virginians. In this he began to smoke the tobacco, and soon grew to like it very much; so much, indeed, that he was scarcely ever without this comforter, when enjoying the quiet of his home.

One day he was sitting cosily by his fire with his Long Nine in his mouth, and the smoke was curling gracefully over his head. Just as he was puffing out a particularly thick cloud, one of his servants happened to enter the room with a tankard of ale, for the luncheon table.

"Ye Gods!" cried he. "My Master's on fire!"

Swash!!

Over Sir Walter's head went the ale, and the frightened lackey dashed down the steps.

"H-e-l-p! H-e-l-p!" cried he. "My Master is burning up! H-e-l-p!"

But Sir Walter did not burn up this time. Instead he near split his gallant sides with laughing.

Now, Boys, don't smile! 'Tis said that good old Queen Bess tried, herself, to smoke a Long Nine. But--hush--"she became so dizzy and ill from the effects that she never ventured upon the experiment again!" (Keep this quiet! Very quiet! Will you!)

On one occasion she was watching Sir Walter blowing circles of smoke over his head, and said to him--

"Zounds! (or something stronger) Sir Walter! You are a witty man; but I will wager that you cannot tell me the weight of the smoke which comes from your pipe!"

"I can, indeed," was the confident reply of the gallant courtier. "Watch me closely!"