The Indians knew all this weakness and forebore to assault the fort or hazard themselves in a war on those whom they were assured in a short time would of themselves perish, yet they killed all stragglers found beyond bounds. Every particle of food was devoured, and the miserable women and children begged from the savages, to receive insult and mortal wounds. Roots, acorns, and the skins of horses were boiled for food. At last dead Indians were dug up and devoured "by the baser sort." A horrible, ghastly tragedy froze the blood of the "better sort." A man killed his wife, and had devoured part of her body, when he was discovered. He was executed, but that only added horror to horror. This time marked one of two terrible epochs,--"the starving time" and the great massacre of 1622. Nearly five hundred persons had lately been landed at Jamestown, and six months afterward "there remained not past sixty men, _women and children_, most miserable and poor creatures." Of five hundred, more than four hundred had perished,--dead of starvation or brained by the Indian tomahawk. In May, 1607, the Englishmen had landed in what they termed "a Paradise." Over the moss-green earth "bespred with faire flowers" the branches of the stately trees threw lacelike shadows. Flowering vines hung from their boughs, brilliant birds darted among them, or swooped down to dip their blue and crimson wings in the clear rivulets. All was happiness, activity, and hope. Now, in May, 1610, the earth was trampled bare of all verdure, ragged stumps of the felled trees were rotting in the ground, noisome vapours rose from the neglected, filthy yards of a pestilence-smitten town. Men, women, and children, gaunt and wild-eyed from famine, perishing by inches slowly but surely, lay about the town, moaning and despairing. The last agony was near. They knew that without help they could not survive many hours. Long ago they had ceased to expect it. We can imagine the frantic joy when two vessels appeared on the river! These were the cedar ships we left Admiral Somers and Sir Thomas Gates building at Bermuda: the _Deliverance_ and the _Patience_! The Admiral and Sir Thomas cast anchor and at once went on shore. The scene that ensued baffles description. The two mariners looked upon wretchedness and desolation indescribable. The shipwrecked on sea looked into the eyes of the shipwrecked on land. Jamestown was in ruins, the town encumbered with filth. The torn-down palisades, the gates swinging to and fro on rusty hinges, the church ruined and unfrequented, the dismantled houses, the emaciated faces, the hollow hungry eyes, and voices hardly able to articulate the prayer to be "taken home to die,"--these were the piteous sights and sounds which greeted the commanders as they landed from their cedar ships. All hope of Virginia was over forever! Even the stout hearts that had borne storm and wreck in the _Sea Venture_ were appalled by the spectacle.