John Rolfe was not beholden to the Company for bringing him here, and he carried his own weight in all general endeavors, as well as in his personal projects. He was a far cry from the pampered aristocrats whose idling and futile digging for fool gold had annoyed Captain John Smith. He hailed from the sturdy British farming class, which could come through a Bermuda ship-wreck or a Jamestown disaster in that time, as well as they could a Dunkirk or a "blitz" in the twentieth century. Having arrived with Gates in a prudently salvaged ship, he left with Gates when the Jamestown outpost seemed untenable. He also returned with Gates at Delaware's reinforcement. He, for one, determined to make a go of it, although after his wife's death he was the loneliest of all the bachelor colonists. He sublimated his grief in hard work, and soon in a shrewd project which was to be of value to the colony as well as to his personal fortunes. He knew instinctively the wisdom of the dying farmer who told his sons that they could dig for their heritage and treasure in the lands on which they lived. If others had heeded such a fable, they would have warmed on the trail of wealth for the colony. In Rolfe's case this was not merely profitable production of the land, but of the specific and prime crop for Virginia--tobacco. He put his finger on the business pulse of the new world. Here was the pot of gold at the foot of Columbus's rainbow; here was the gold for which the laziest colonists had wasted time prospecting elsewhere. For most of the next two centuries tobacco would be virtually coin of the realm. With it a man would pay the preacher, buy a wife, set her up in fine style, and then be taxed according to the degree of that style, paying in tobacco. Rolfe was the first tobacconist. In 1610 an excellent plant was imported from Trinidad. Later, another from Venezuela was transported here, and cross-breeding was tried. He had seeds from Bermuda, and he was willing to learn from Indians about what they knew of the soil, and its cultivation. Like a good cook he savored his own product. He sensed that the Indians had none of the earnest industry of his own thrifty family who made the most of every tended acre in England, for they craved only so-so tobacco for their own pipes. This "apooke" was harsh, and English smokers preferred the West Indies product. He was going to improve it until England clamored for its import. Tobacco was a better crop than corn, a more valuable export than mica, lumber, iron, pitch, tar, walnut or cedar. It was more profitable than the mulberry trees which were supposed to produce silk. Rats ate the silk worms, and neither foreign teachers nor statutes could make the silk business succeed. The Glass House never satisfied investors. Yes, tobacco was the thing, and he was keenly on its scent. Within two years he and his neighbors were sending their product to England.