Miscellaneous

March 30, 1610

Dear Mother,

I’m ever so sorry I ran from home. I had it in my mind that the

New World would be better. How wrong I was. Mother, it has been dreadful!

Where was my head when I thought this would benefit me, Mother? I was only fourteen! A terribly foolish boy with no sense of right and wrong. We were all hopeful, yet had no right to be if we knew what fate would be thrust upon us.

Oh, Mother! We took to the first river we saw for we were so desperate to land. And there we settled. We built our little town (which was to be named Jamestown for our king) and tried to establish a life. But oh how different surviving is from living! And in a few months, Mother, we were already grasping life by only our fingertips.

People would fall suddenly ill and no one knew why. I had quite a fever myself. Most that fell sick would die. But not us younger ones. And oh how quickly our food ran out! And none of the men are willing to farm more to sustain us. We tried to trade with the Indians, but those savages wouldn’t aid us!

But then, Mother, appeared John Smith - a god, a savior. The silver lining. He created a friendly relationship with the savages and everything seemed alright for a while. But soon our hero was sent back to England for he suffered an injury. And as if he were the only strand keeping us together, everything fell apart again.

Winter was approaching and we didn’t have sufficient food to last us through it. We sent thirty-six men with Francis West to barter with the Indians. They never returned, Mother. We fear the savages killed them.

The winter was absolutely horrendous. We ate roots, weeds, rats, leather - whatever we could find. And soon even those things weren’t options. Oh Mother, I never knew human flesh tasted so good. We would bury the dead, but soon enough the bodies would be dug up again and eaten. Mother, I cringe at our miscreance, our desperate intentions. And not only that, but the savages would attack us at random and without warning. The other three boys here, my three friends, died in just this way. I never got to tell them how much they meant to me. I cried for days, Mother. The last words I said to them were “You’re all idiots -  the three of you.” For they had asked me if I wanted to get out of the town into the forest. The Indians were just outside the gates. And I saw them go, Mother. James, Richard, and Nathaniel - gone. The arrows through their bodies… I can’t think of it.

But recently, Mother, ships have arrived and saved us. I have made new friends, though they will never be like James, Nathaniel, and Richard. And a man, John Rolfe, married the Indian princess Pocahontas. We are all well now. There is peace.

I miss you terribly and I always will, Mother. Perhaps I will come back to England one day. Or you can visit here. I promise there is no more danger. Until next time, Mother. I love you.

Your son,

Samuell Collier