From the spot where the ships lay, they had as much sea to cross as between Dover and Calais, the waves being high, and the current strong. They at length entered a stream, which Raleigh called the River of the Red Cross, and where they noted Indians in a canoe and on the banks. Their interpreters, Ferdinando and his brother, went ashore to fetch fruit, and drink with the natives, when they were seized by the chief with the intention of putting them to death, because “they had brought a strange nation into their territory to spoil and destroy them.” Ferdinando and his brother managed to escape, the former running into the woods, and the latter reaching the mouth of the creek where the barge was staying, when he cried out that his brother was slain. On hearing this, “we set hands,” says Raleigh, “on one of them that was next us, a very old man, and brought him into the barge, assuring him that if we had not our pilot again we would presently cut off his head.” The old man called to his tribe to save Ferdinando, but they hunted him through the forest, with shouts that made the whole neighbourhood resound. At length he reached the water, and climbing out on an overhanging tree, dropped down and swam to the barge, half dead with fear. The old Indian was retained as pilot.