When the stranger arrived.

The day began colourful, but cold, with crying birds in the sky, a sign of land being near. The sound sent our stranger from deep sleep to a slumbering wake. He woke in his bunk to find the day had dawned earlier than his rhythm had required him to. As he made his way to open-air, feelings of insecurity took hold as he saw the glowing and the land light up in the new light of day. He turned to find the captain at the helm of this virtuous vessel.

“Good morning captain!” cried the stranger. “Lucky to lay eyes on land are we now?”

“Ay, it be true, the land is near,” Captain Carter replied. The captain knew not how to feel about his single passenger. No sane person would put forth such payments for passage to the new world. Perhaps his quest for new wealth had led him here, had led him to be lured to riches not yet known. Yet, his claim was to help the people, not to find riches, for he requires nothing more than what is already his. 

When the moment came to vacate the vessel, Mr Rose, the single passenger of the merchant ship Horizon, greeted and thanked the captain for his hospitality. He knew they would never meet again.

That morning, like most mornings, Rosemary had found her way to the harbour. She simply loved watching the ships come in and observe the people they brought with them. She would always put on her most fancy dress to make a good impression, for that is what matter most, in the words of her father. For a moment though, she felt disappointed when she noticed only a few people leaving the vessel. The name clearly read ‘Horizon’ a name she was quite familiar with since it was the best merchant ship to ever visit their colony. Today, however, it did not bring with it the passengers she had been looking forward to seeing. Instead, there was one man who looked more interesting than all the previous travellers put together.

  The odd thing was though, that this man, this interesting looking man, asked none other than Rosemary to point him in the right direction. To where she lived, that is.

“Excuse me young miss?” said Mr Rose. “Would you perhaps be so kind as to show me the way to town?” He smiled at her when he spoke. A friendly smile for her to like as she trusted him immediately.

“Of course I can sir. But do you mind if I come along with you? You see, it is not far from here, but I see you have some sort of transport ready.”

“Ah yes, my transportation. They are mere horses, my dear, . . .?”

“My name is Rosemary, sir. You may call me Rose if you want, most people do,” she replied.

Mr Rose looked at her in delight and smiled even more. “That must be the most delightful coincidence I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. You see, my name is also Rose, Mr Rose that is. Don’t you just find that absolutely fascinating?” he inquired.

Rosemary smiled as she looked up to this strange man who had almost the same name as her. But then she went and said something that could have only been brought forth by the innocence and trust of a child. “I have never heard of a man named Rose before!” she said grinning generously.

To which Mr Rose replied in a way that threw her off a bit.

“What makes you think I am a man, my dear Rose?” he said with a stern face. But swiftly his countenance changed back into that friendly, odd-looking fellow, and they both strode off together. They rode horseback to town while Rosemary could not contain her curiosity and had to ask, even though she well knew how impolite it must have seemed.

“Mr Rose,” she began. “Perhaps it has not gone unnoticed to you, in fact, I can hardly believe that it has, but the people we have encountered so far have all been staring in awe. I do believe that might have something to do with your attire. Now, I would like to make clear that I find it absolutely appropriate, it’s just that I, like most people here, have never seen clothes in that colour.”

“Well, well, well, my dear Rose. How nice of you to notice, and how brave of you to address me on the matter.

“I apologise,” said Rosemary quickly. “I should not have judged you so openly for it, I am sorry.”

“Nonsense my dear friend, on the contrary. I adore how openly you speak of what is on your mind, and I am certain you are right about the people not having seen clothes such as these before. They were, after all, custom made by the personal tailor of a highly influential person. A wealthy man, living in one of the most beautiful regions of this world.”

“That sounds astonishingly wonderful, perhaps I might travel there one day.”

Mr Rose’s face turned stern once more. I am afraid not, sweet young one. If everything comes to pass as I wish, then you shall never travel there. . . .  I am sorry.”

This disheartened Rosemary, but she was sure he meant well. A man, or a person she had thought to be a man, dressed in such fine garments, fit for a king, could never have ill intentions.

As they reached the town, Rosemary thanked Mr Rose for the ride and bade him goodbye, for now. She made her way home and found that both her mother and father were not there yet. Mother must be off to the market, she thought. She helped herself to a small meal and started on her chores.

About an hour later, her mother returned with some fresh vegetables and meat for dinner.

“Rose, are you here? Rose!” she cried.

“Yes mother, I am here.”

“O thank heavens, I just heard some odd-looking man, a traveller had taken you with him. As soon as I heard I hurried home. I am so happy to see you’re all right, dear. Is it true what they said? Did you travel here on horseback with this oddly dressed stranger?”

“He is no stranger to me, mother. His name is Mr Rose, like me, and he is the friendliest man I ever met.”

“You know not to go with strangers, do you not? You never know what people will think of it.”

“Yes, mother.” Rosemary felt disconcerted by her mother’s reaction. Mr Rose had seemed so nice and he was incredibly well behaved. What harm could he have ever done her? She wondered silently.

No more than two days later, the town was quite well acquainted with Mr Rose and his intentions. Very much so that a town meeting was organised to discuss the matter, and to vote on whether to shoo him away from town or to adhere to his wishes. That evening the mayor, Mr Gotlieb, opened the meeting.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome, dear people! Please listen to the matter at hand,” he began. “Since last Tuesday our little town has been graced with the presence of a well-dressed stranger we have all come to know and adore. Though Mr Rose is not here right now, I do believe we must discuss him and the possibilities he has brought to our attention. Therefore, I will ask you all to please adhere to the following: we do not speak when someone else is speaking; when you have something to add to what is being discussed, please stand up and await your turn. Focus only on the matter at hand, so that we can all return to our business as swiftly as possible.”

The people seemed to agree with this, for his audience produced a soft murmur indicating agreement.

“Very well then, the matter is as follows. We all came here, to this New World to start a new life, to find fortune, friendship and unfaltering prosperity. Now I ask you: have we? Have we found what we sought? Is the life we live not fiendishly laborious? Though unsurprisingly straightforward, I will leave it to you to answer for yourselves,” said Mayor Gotlieb. He was a strong man, sturdy in his step and charismatic in his countenance. Some might even go as far as to say he would be easy to favour, follow and befriend, even if he was the mayor.

“Mr Rose, proper as he may seem,” continued the mayor, “has presented some of us, or rather the most influential of us, with what seems to be quite the lucrative opportunity. He has offered us an adventurous venture to seek new fortune elsewhere. I would like each one of you to have a clear voice in this, so speak up if you have any reason for wanting to follow this man, a man we know little of, to find our luck elsewhere.”

The first person to speak up was Nathan Richardson, Rosemary’s father.

“If I may have a word in, Mr Mayor?” Nathan asked politely. The mayor gave him a nod to go ahead.

“My daughter, Rosemary, was the first to speak to him,” he began. “She has not been able to keep him off her mind since then. I would almost suggest some sort of spell has been cast over her. I would also argue that this has happened to more people who have had close contact with this Mr Rose. Therefore, I suggest we find our own fortune by continuing the course that has been set out for us long ago: to make this new world a great new world.”

There came some agreement from the room, but others differed in opinion. Mrs Cavanagh, for one, had a different opinion. She broke the mayor’s rule and spoke before she was absolutely sure Mr Richardson had finished his account.

“Oh, my word! I have never heard such loose arguments against what might well be the best thing to ever come our way. Yes, we seek fortune, yes we seek our own luck by working hard and working together. But I will have all of you know, Mr Rose can lead us towards what we all seek without the backbreaking effort that will continue for generations to come. I say we follow him to where he will lead us.”

Mr Chapman stood up, asking the mayor for permission to put in his five cents right after Mrs Cavanagh had sat down.

“Dear friends, it is true Mr Rose has regaled us with talk of paradisial circumstances, but what is it precisely that we are persuaded to leave behind? Also, how much do we know of this man that gives us grounds for entertaining the promises he puts forth?”

Before Mr Chapman could finish his account, the door to the venue opened and Mrs Richardson came rushing in. With regard to no one, she spoke through her tears.

“He has taken her, Rosemary! He took her with him! She is gone!” she cried.

The room lit up like a lantern, not one remained seated as Mrs Richardson made way to the front of the room. Mr Richardson had just found his way to his wife when she fell to her knees in tears.

“What do you mean? Catherine, what do you mean with ‘he took Rosemary’?” Mr Richardson asked.

What the people at the meeting had not known was that Mr Rose had taken Rosemary, or rather, he had persuaded her to be the first to cross the bridge that he had created. She did not know, however, that there would be no return once the bridge was crossed.

Catherine continued as best she could. “He led her to some sort of bridge, that’s what they told me. The other children that were with them. You see, I couldn’t find her, and she’d been gone for a while. Then I found the others, out on the field. They told me he had led her across a bridge.”

“You are not making much sense, Catherine,” said the Mayor.

“Is it not clear to you all? Mr Richardson now spoke to all the town folk gathered in the great hall.  “This man has a plan for all of us, and I don’t think it is beneficial for us to follow him.”

“Perhaps it is best that we go and find your daughter. Catherine, show us the way to the bridge, please,” said Mayor Gotlieb. He was still keeping his composure, but deep inside he knew he was about to get exactly what he wanted.

When most of the township arrived at the field they had been led to by Catherine Richardson, they were stunned to find a bridge had been built there. The green patch of grass the children played on, now served as a walkway to the newly built bridge to what promised to be the next new world for them.

They were met by nonother than Mr Rose himself, he stood in sheer confidence as if he had orchestrated the entire thing. As he stood on the bridge, looking at the people he sought to follow him, he spoke some magical, persuasive words.

“Dear friends, welcome. How wonderful and splendid to see you all here at this moment. When I came here, I did so with only one objective: to find people who would be willing to impart on an adventure that would need them to leave behind all they had.

“None of us are leaving anything behind!” cried Catherine. “Where is my daughter, where is Rosemary!?”

“I do apologise for the apparent disappearance of your daughter, she is a wonderful child. But I assure you, she is perfectly fine. You shall see her again soon. In fact, why don’t I just guide you to her?”

“Take me to her now, right this instant!” Catherine stepped forward and Mr Rose reached out his hand to take hers. Her fear of the unknown conquered her distrust and she accepted Mr. rose’s hand to lead her to her daughter. As they crossed the bridge, they vanished behind a veil of fog. There was silence as the anticipation grew palpable. A minute passed, yet no one dared venture beyond the bridge without knowing what lay past the veil.

Moments later their question was answered as both Rosemary and Catherine came strolling over the bridge. They were dressed in the same type of garments Mr Rose had been dressed in when he first came to town. It was almost enough to convince the rest of the people to follow them across the bridge. But it was the mayor who convinced them all by saying that all who followed him would share equally in whatever lay beyond.

Whether people followed because of this statement, whether they believed it or not, all the people of Roanoke passed a bridge that day, leaving behind a one-word message, as they had been instructed by Mr Rose. Only those who truly believed in paradise would know what it meant and how to find their way. Carved on a single tree, standing in the field near the bridge was the word: croatoan.