CHAPTER V.

A TIMELY ARRIVAL

Through the stillness of the summer night rolled the sound of the cannon that had been fired in front of Jamestown, many miles down the river. The report, which was not repeated, sent a thrill of alarm through Captain Smith and his friends, for to them it could have but one meaning: it had been discharged because of an attack upon the settlement by Indians.

The boom, as it traveled up the broad stream, carried the same tidings to the son and daughter of Powhatan, who were drawing near the large boat in response to the invitation of him who was returning from his visit of state to the dusky Emperor. Nantaquas plied his paddle with renewed vigor, but instantly sheared away, and instead of keeping on as he had started, made with all speed for the northern shore. It was natural to think that the white men on the larger boat would undergo an instant change of feelings when the alarming sound fell upon their ears. Indeed, the youth expected a volley from the boat, but nothing of the kind was in the mind of Captain Smith, who did not interfere while the canoe and its occupants rapidly passed from sight.

Smith walked hurriedly to the stern, where the others had gathered about the steersman.

“The settlement has been attacked,” said the captain in his quick, crisp manner. “Listen!”

All stood silent and motionless for several minutes. The _Sarah Constant_ had three such pieces on board, fitted for good service, and Smith repeated that if it was necessary to discharge one of them, the urgency was equally great for the firing of the remainder. Be that as it may, the straining ears heard no second report, though the listening was long, and was repeated at intervals for a couple of hours later.

Naturally, the certainty that there was grave trouble at Jamestown intensified the impatience of Smith and his friends to reach the place as soon as they could. If _their_ help was not needed, he knew _his_ was, and he could not get there too quickly; but the fates were against him for the time. The wind, which had been dying out ever since sunset, now wholly ceased, and the rising tide began to carry them back towards the Indian capital. The anchor was dropped, and thus the craft lay at rest, as it must remain for several hours, awaiting the turn of the tide or perchance a rising of the wind. Two men were placed on guard, and Smith and the others lay down to get such sleep as might come to them.

The calm lasted throughout the night, and when daylight came the surface of the James was as smooth as a summer millpond. The tide had turned, but moved so sluggishly that Captain Smith told his skipper to let the anchor remain for a few hours, all agreeing that the weather signs foretold a change at or before that time. They partook sparingly of the coarse bread which they had brought with them, adding several mouthfuls of cold fowl that the Captain had shot a few miles below the spot on their upward voyage.

His next words caused surprise. He intended to go to the southern shore with two of the men, to inquire into the signal fire that had first caught his eye the night before. He hoped to learn something of the trouble at Jamestown, though his chief hope was that he might find the way to obtain a quantity of corn, of which his countrymen stood in sore need. From what Smith had been told, he knew that a small Indian village was not far inland. There was reason to hope that through barter, or possibly, as a last resort, the display of force, the owners could be made to part with a goodly supply of food.

A number of gaudy trinkets, beads, ribbons, fanciful little knives and gewgaws were bundled up and put in the small boat, the three men took their places, with the Captain at the stern, while each of the others began to swing the oars in the fashion that has been common since time immemorial. They were old hands, and rowed in unison, while the craft headed toward the point which the Captain had pointed out before starting. In the hope that some of the warriors would show themselves, he keenly studied the shore, both above and below; but if there were any red men in the neighborhood, they took care that none should see them.

When the boat touched land the three stepped out, the two who had used the oars drawing the boat up the bank, and then awaited the orders of Captain Smith.

Each man had a knife, a musket, and ammunition. The guns were of what is known as the snaphaunce pattern, which took the place of the clumsy firelock during the previous century. The weapons were the old style flintlocks, heavy and cumbersome, but useful in the hands of those familiar with them.

It was but natural on the part of Captain John Smith to feel certain of his superiority in every respect over any and all of his associates. This included even marksmanship and skill in the use of fire arms. It was a common practice with him when engaging in a hunt to go away from his companions. If asked for his reason, he replied that their presence prevented his success; he could do much better when alone. As for them, it did not matter, since they could never hope to be his equal.

So it was that at the present time he told his friends to move off together, following the course of the stream, and never wandering so far in the woods that they could not easily make their way back to the water. If they met any Indians or made any important discovery they were to halloo at the top of their voices, and he would make haste to them and take charge of things. As for him, he would decide every question as it came up. It becomes necessary for us to give our attention to the two men, while we leave the doughty Captain for a time to himself.

The only sign of the recent presence of others on the spot was the heap of ashes left by the signal fire. This had been kindled within a few feet of the stream, where there was no vegetation to hide the rays. The trinkets which all hoped could be used for barter were left in the boat. Thus it will be seen that Smith did not mean that either he or his friends should go far from the spot.

It was not strange that the name of one of the couple was also Smith, for we know that the name is the most common among civilized people. I know a city of my own country in which I read in the directory exactly one hundred and five plain “John Smiths,” and I doubt not that there are plenty of them in Great Britain. In the present instance, the Smith who had helped row the boat was no relation of the Captain. His companion was a cousin, remembered as Jack Bertram.

These two moved up-stream—that is, toward the village of Powhatan. There was no reason to believe they would come upon anything of importance by keeping near the river, where the walking was easy, so they pushed inland for a number of rods, and then took a course parallel with the James. The timber was dense, and the undergrowth so matted that it was hard to force a passage. Smith took the lead, thus making the work less for Bertram, who kept close behind him.

When they had pushed their way for a brief distance, Smith stopped.

“What good can come of this? Since no one has been over the land ahead of us, we cannot overtake anyone.”

“They may be coming from the other way,” said his companion, less discouraged because he was not doing such hard work in the way of traveling.

“Little promise of that. I do not understand what Captain Smith hopes to learn or do by this groping through the woods. If we knew the way to the Indian village we should go there, and, if they would not give us corn, take it from them. Ah! I did not look for this.”

That which caused this exclamation was the sight of a well-marked trail leading over the course they were following. Both stopped to study it more closely.

“It has been made by animals coming to the river to drink,” said Bertram. “It can be of no help to us though it may be used also by persons.”

Smith walked for a few paces, scanning the path, which soon turned to the left, leaning farther inland. At the same time the ground sloped gently upward, showing they were drawing near an elevation. Suddenly the leader halted. Glancing up, Bertram saw the reason for it, and then was as much astonished as his companion.

Standing in the trail, wonderingly staring at the couple, was the girl whom they had seen when the ships were sailing up the James River weeks before on their way to found the colony of Jamestown. There was no mistaking her. She had the same rich robe about her shoulders, and the same white plume curling over her mass of black hair that fell over her pretty shoulders. She carried her long bow in one hand, and the top of her quiver of arrows peeped from behind the left shoulder. Her hands and moccasins were small, the latter ornamented with colored beads.

She caught sight of the white men before they saw her. She must have been coming over the path, when she observed the figures and stopped in amazement. On her comely face the emotion of astonishment was quickly followed by that of pleasure.

“It is Pocahontas,” whispered Bertram, at the rear of his friend; “we saw nothing of her yesterday at the lodge of the old chief, because she was absent. I wonder what she is doing here alone?”

“Her friends can’t be far off. But I say, Jack, this is a godsend.”

“What do you mean?”

“You will see.”

The girl did not wait after observing that she was seen by the strangers. She knew where these men had come from, and, shifting her bow to her left hand as she walked, she came smilingly forward. She had noticed the strange custom of the pale-faces when they met of clasping their hands. Without pause she reached out her hand to Smith who was in front, and said to him in broken words:

“How do? how do? Me friend; _you_ friend.”

Smith took the dainty palm, warmly pressed it, and then gave way to Bertram, as he stepped up beside him and did the same. Pocahontas tried to say something more, but she knew so little of the English language that neither caught her meaning. It was amusing to note her sparkling eyes and charming smile as she saw that too many of her words were spoken in her own tongue for the men to understand them. Laughing in her childish way, she gave up the effort, and stood looking inquiringly into the bronzed faces before her, as if asking them to help her out of her trouble.

“Jack,” said Smith in a low voice, “the Indians have attacked Jamestown; we don’t know how many of our people they have killed; we need food; let’s take this daughter of the old chief and hold her as a hostage. We will give him the choice of letting us have all the corn we want, or of having his pet daughter put to death.”

“I hardly know what to say to that; it may work the other way.”

“It can’t; Powhatan loves her so much that he will do anything to keep harm from coming to her.”

Smith did not wait to argue further, but, taking a quick step toward the smiling girl, grasped her upper arm. In answer to her questioning look, he said:

“Go with us; we take to Jamestown; won’t hurt.”

The smiles gave way to an expression of alarm. She held back.

“No. no, no. Me no go; Powhatan feel bad—much bad.”

“You _must_ go!” said Smith, tightening his grip. “We not hurt you.”

Bertram stood silent throughout the brief minutes. While he hardly liked the scheme that had been sprung so suddenly upon him, he thought it might turn out well, and therefore, he did not interfere.

And then Pocahontas, child that she was, began crying and striving to wrench her arm free from the iron fingers that had closed around it. She drew back so strongly that her feet slid forward beside each other. Had not Smith used much strength she would have got away from him. Impatient over her resistance, he next tried to scare her into submission. Scowling at her, he said in savage tones.

“Stop! Come with me, or I kill!”

This, it need not be said, was an idle threat, for the man had no thought of anything of the kind, though he was ready to use more violence to subdue the girl. Probably he would have struck her, for he was a quick-tempered man, and was fast losing his patience. Pocahontas would not stop her resistance, but as she found her moccasins sliding over the slippery leaves she struggled harder than ever, with the tears streaming down her cheeks. She begged and prayed but all her words were in her own tongue. In her panic she could not stop to try to put them in the language of which she had only slight knowledge.

Captain John Smith had gone but a little way down stream, when he decided that he had taken the wrong course. He turned about and followed after his companions, coming upon them at the crisis of the struggle between his namesake and the young daughter of Powhatan. He paused only an instant, when he angrily cried out:

“What is the meaning of this?”

The other Smith merely glanced around at his leader, and kept dragging the captive along the trail. It was Bertram who hastily said:

“She is the daughter of Powhatan. We are going to take her to Jamestown, to hold her as a hostage, and make the chief give us what corn——”

Without waiting for anything further, the Captain sprang forward, calling angrily:

“Let go! Release her!”

Before the amazed fellow could comply, he was grasped by the back of the collar. Captain Smith shifted his gun to his right hand, so as to leave the other free. The fingers were as those of a giant, and the scared Englishman let go of the sobbing prisoner. As he did so the Captain gave a kick with his goodly right foot, which lifted his namesake clear off the ground, and sent him tumbling on his face, his peaked hat falling off, and his gun flying several yards away.

“I would do right to kill you!” called the leader, his face aflame as he glared down on the fellow, who began climbing shame-facedly to his feet. “Among all the Indians in Virginia there is not one so good a friend of the English as that little girl.”

As he spoke he pointed towards the spot where she stood a minute before, but she was not there. She had taken instant advantage of her release, and fled beyond sight.