A few hundred years or so ago, on the eighteenth of August 1587, Virginia Dare was born. Her birth dawned a new age, the first to come of many born of immigrants in this westward land. And yet— she vanished altogether, along with the unexplained disappearance of the Lost Roanoke Colony, a story, perhaps, for another time. But where facts end legend so often begins. And the legend of Virginia Dare is one that endures long after she vanished from the scene.
Virginia Dare’s fate is clouded in story, mystery for those lacking imagination. For the spirited lumberjack, teller of oft-told tales and champion of the Southern logging camps, is apt to say that Virginia Dare not only survived the fall of Roanoke but was brought up somewhere abouts, nobody knows quite well where, deep among the virgin dogwood and loblolly pine forests. Virginia Dare, with the remnants of the colony, were accepted with open arms by a Croatoan tribe living in the woods of Panawicke. There, not only did they live but flourish. Naturally, it came to pass that Virginia Dare reached maturity, blossoming into a beautiful young maiden, and coveted was she by a number of suitors. Among these was he whose name is lost to time, the son of Manteo. Manteo (son) was noted for his courage, for his daring, and eagerly sought some grand, some might would think it impossible, undertaking with what he might could prove his devotion to his beloved Virginia. And so, the cycle of courtship ensued. That is until one day, Virginia
