vernour and
Captain-General, Cavallier, and Knight of the Order of St. James."

ANNIE T. COLCOCK.

THE STORY OF MARGARET TUDOR

CHAPTER I.

San Augustin, this 29th of June, Anno Domini 1670.

It is now more than a month since our captivity began, and there seems
scant likelihood that it will come to a speedy close,--altho', being in
good health myself, and of an age when hope dies slowly, I despair not
of recovering both liberty and friends. Yet, in the event of our further
detention, of sickness or any other evil that may befall me--and there
is one threatening--I write these pages of true history, praying that
they may some time reach the hand of my guardian and uncle, Dr. William
Scrivener, if he be still alive and dwelling in these parts. Should they
chance, instead, to meet the eyes of some friendly-disposed person of
English blood and Protestant faith, to whom the name of William
Scrivener is unknown, I beseech him to deliver them to any person
sailing with the sloop _Three Brothers_, which did set out from the
Island of Barbadoes on the 2nd of November last,--being in the hire of
Sir Thomas Colleton, and bearing freight and passengers for these
shores.

If the sloop has suffered some misadventure (as I fear is not
unlikely,--either at the hands of the Spaniards, or else of the Indians
of these parts, who do show themselves most unfriendly to all
Englishmen, being set on to mischief by the Spanish friars), then I pray
that word may be forwarded to his Lordship, the Duke of Albemarle, and
others of the Lords Proprietors who did commission and furnish a fleet
of three vessels, to wit: the _Carolina_, the _Port Royal_, and the
_Albemarle_, which did weigh anchor at the Downs in August of last year,
and set forth to plant an English colony at Port Royal.

In particular would I implore that word might reach Lord Ashley, seeing
that his kinsman, Mr. John Rivers, is here detained a prisoner in sorry
state, laden with chains in the dungeon of the Castle--for which may God
forgive me, I being in some degree to blame; and yet, since it hath
pleased Heaven to grant me the fair face that wrought the mischief, I
hold myself the less guilty and grieve the more bitterly, inasmuch as I
love him with a maid's true love and would willingly give my life to
spare him hurt.

If it were so that I might give the true narrative of our present
plight, and how it