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<h1>17th of August, 1590. Roanoke Island.</h1>
White stared at the coastline of Roanoke Island from the deck of the ship that had brought him from England. It has been so long, he thought, but it still looks the same as when I left three years ago. Due to a lot of attacks from French pirates, and England's war with Spain, he had not been able to return to Roanoke for three years. He had looked forward to coming back, but he was also scared of what he might find. When he left, the supply of food and water was not stable, and the living conditions were hard. ''Let down the anchor,'' he heard the captain shout. When White finally set foot on the sandy ground of Roanoke's coast, he was immediately struck with fear; it was incredibly quiet. We walked further inland. <i>We passed toward the place where they were left in sundry houses, but we found the houses taken down, and the place very
strongly enclosed with a high pallisade of great trees, with cortynes and flankers very fortlike, and one of the chief trees or posts at the right side of the entrance had the bark taken off, and 5 feet from the ground in fair capital letters was graven</i> <br> <h1>CROATOAN</h1> <br> <i>The next morning it was agreed by the captain and myself, with the master and others, to weigh anchor, and go for the place at Croatoan.</i> White and his company never made it to Croatoan, due to losing some anchors and foul wheather. They had to change course to find fresh water, and afterwards returned to safety in Plymouth. On his way, he wondered where the colonists could have gone. Maybe they had tried to go back to England, but got lost at sea. Maybe they had joined a friendly native tribe, and continued to live there. Or maybe they all starved as a result of the drought. White spend the rest of his life wondering what had happened to the colonists, and blamed himself for not returning sooner.<br> <h1>THE END</h1>
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