Part 12

As we know, inaction was positively abhorrent to our hero and, the settlement being now thoroughly quiet and quite prepared for the winter, he determined on an expedition designed to trace the Chickahominy to its source. Exploration was one of the chief duties of the colonists and Smith, as he tells us, hoped that he might soon discover “some matters of worth to encourage adventurers in England.” The Indians along the river had been so friendly during his foraging trip the month before that he felt safe in making the present journey, but his military training and natural prudence would not permit him to relax his usual precautions. But there was one important feature of Indian tactics with which the American colonists had not become familiar. They had yet to learn how large bodies of redskins would watch a settlement, or track a party on the move, for days and weeks without allowing their presence to be known. Ever since their landing, the settlers had been under the sleepless eye of spies lying hidden in grass or behind trees, and from the moment Captain Smith left Jamestown his progress had been flanked by a body of savages moving stealthily through the woods.

The barge proceeded fifty miles up the river without incident, but presently the stream became too shallow to admit of its going farther. A canoe was secured from a village in the vicinity, with two Indians to paddle it. In this Smith decided to push on to the head of the river, taking with him two of his men. The remainder he left in the barge, instructing them not to go on shore and to keep a sharp lookout until his return. Twenty miles onward the canoe travelled when an obstruction of fallen trees brought the party to a halt. It seemed probable that the source of the stream could be but a few miles beyond and Smith determined to seek it on foot accompanied by one of the Indians. The other and the two Englishmen he left in the canoe, cautioning them to keep their matches burning, and at the first sign of danger to fire an alarm.

Smith had hardly gone a mile through the forest when he was suddenly startled by a shrill war-whoop. He could see no one and he had not been warned of danger by his men as agreed. He concluded, therefore, that they had been surprised and killed with the connivance of the guide. Even as the thought flashed through his mind he grappled with the Indian beside him and wrenched the bow from his grasp. It was done in an instant, and as quickly he bound an arm of the savage to his own with one of his garters. He had not completed the act when an arrow half spent struck him on the thigh and a moment later he discerned two dusky figures drawing their bows upon him. These disappeared at the discharge of his pistol, and he was congratulating himself on having routed them so easily when two hundred warriors, hideous in paint and feathers, rose from the ground in front of him. At their head was Opechancanough, the chief of the Pamaunkes.

The situation would have suggested surrender to the ordinary man. There could be no use in Smith’s contending against such numbers and to retreat to the river would be no less futile, since his men in the canoe must have been captured. It was not, however, in our hero’s nature to give up until absolutely obliged to do so. He could see no possibility of escape but he proposed to make it as difficult as possible for the savages to capture him. With this thought he placed the guide before him as a shield and prepared, with a pistol in each hand, to meet an onrush of the warriors. But they had no mind to rush upon those fearful fire-spitting machines and kept off, discharging their arrows from a distance that rendered them harmless. Seeing this, Smith began to retire, keeping his face towards the enemy and holding his human buckler in place. The Indians responded to this movement by cautiously advancing and at the same time they sought to induce the Englishman to lay down his arms, promising to spare his life in case he should do so. Smith positively declined the proposition, insisting that he would retain his weapons but promising not to make further use of them if he should be permitted to depart in peace; otherwise he would use them and kill some of his assailants without delay. The Indians continuing to advance upon him, Smith let go both his pistols at them and took advantage of the hesitation that followed to retreat more rapidly.

Of course this combat was of the most hopeless character and our hero must ultimately have been shot to death had not an accident suddenly put an end to his opposition. Still stepping backward and dragging his captive with him he presently walks into a deep morass and reaches the end of his journey in more than one sense, for it is in this swamp that the Chickahominy rises and he has fulfilled his undertaking to find the head of the river. It was at once clear to the dauntless explorer that he must yield, and that quickly, for he and his Indian were fast sinking in the icy ooze of the bog. He threw his pistols away in token of surrender and his savage adversaries rushed up and extricated him from his perilous situation.

It was with feelings of curiosity and interest on either side that Captain John Smith, the leader of the colonists, and Opechancanough, the chief of the Pamaunkes, confronted each other. Both men of noble bearing and fearless character, they must have been mutually impressed at the first encounter. The chief’s erect and well-knit frame towered above the forms of his attendant warriors and, together with the dignity and intelligence of his countenance, marked him as a superior being. In later years he played an important part in colonial history and met a shameful death by assassination whilst a captive in the hands of the authorities of Virginia.

Smith, whose presence of mind never deserted him, immediately addressed himself to the task of diverting the chieftain’s mind from the recent unpleasant circumstances and with that end in view produced his pocket compass and presented it to the savage. The Pamaunke was readily attracted by the mystery of the twinkling needle which lay in sight but beyond touch, and when our hero showed how it pointed persistently to the north, the wonder of the savage increased. Having thus excited the interest of his captors, Smith went on to hold their attention with a more detailed explanation of the uses of the instrument. He described, in simple language and with the aid of signs, the shape and movement of the earth and the relative positions of sun, moon and stars. This strange astronomical lecture, delivered in the depths of the forest, at length wearied the auditors and they prepared to set out on the return journey, for they had no thought of killing the captive at that time. He was a man of too much importance to be slain off-hand and without learning the pleasure of the great Powhatan in the matter. They did, however, tie him to a tree and make a pretence of drawing their bows upon him but, as the paleface met the threatened death without so much as blinking, the savages derived little satisfaction from the amusement. Before taking the march, Smith was given food and led to a fire, beside which lay the body of Emery, one of the men he had left in the canoe, stuck full of arrows.

The return of Opechancanough to the settlement of the Pamaunkes was in the nature of a triumphal procession. As the band approached a village they gave vent to their piercing war-whoop and entered it chanting their song of victory. In the midst of the procession walked the Chief with Smith’s weapons borne before him and the captive, guarded by eight picked warriors, following. A ceremonial dance took place before the party dispersed to their various lodgings for the night. The captive was well treated and had an excellent opportunity to study the natives and their habits, for Opechancanough carried his prize on a circuit of many villages before finally bringing him to the capital of Powhatan. Nor did the peril of his situation prevent our hero from exercising his usual keen powers of observation, for he has left us a minute account of his strange experiences during these weeks of captive wandering.

Every morning bread and venison were brought to the Englishman in sufficient quantity to have satisfied ten men. His captors never by any chance ate with him and, remembering the reluctance of Eastern peoples to partake of food with those whom they designed to harm, this fact excited his apprehensions. These Indians were not cannibals but he had not that consoling knowledge, and the insistent manner in which they pressed meat upon him raised a disagreeable suspicion that they were fattening him for the table. The thought of death--even with torture--he could endure calmly, but the idea of being eaten afterwards caused him to shudder with horror. We can not help thinking, however, that the sinewy captain might have visited his enemies with a posthumous revenge had they recklessly subjected him to such a fate and themselves to such grave hazard of acute indigestion.

But the captive’s concern for the settlement at Jamestown outweighed all other considerations. He surmised with reason, that having him in their power, the Indians would endeavor to overcome the colonists, whose natural incapacity to take care of themselves would be enhanced by the belief that their leader was dead. He was racking his brain to devise some means of communicating with them, when chance threw an opportunity to him. It seems that in the encounter preceding his surrender to Opechancanough Smith had seriously wounded one of the Indians. He was now called upon to cure his victim and replied that he might be able to do so if in possession of certain medicine which could be obtained from Jamestown. The Chief agreed that two messengers should bear a letter to the settlement, although he could not believe that a few lines scrawled upon paper would convey any meaning, much less elicit the desired response.

The messengers journeyed to the fort with all speed, and as they were not permitted to approach closely, left the note in a conspicuous place and there received the reply. Of course Smith took the opportunity to warn the settlers of the projected attack, and prayed them to be constantly on their guard. He also suggested that some show of strength, as a salvo from the big guns, might have a salutary effect upon the messengers. The latter, after they had received the medicine requested, and turned homewards, were treated to such a thunderous discharge of cannon and musketry that they ran for miles in terror of their lives and arrived at the village well-nigh scared out of their wits. Their account of this terrible experience decided the Indians not to attempt a descent upon Jamestown and their respect increased for a man who could convey his thoughts and wishes by means of such a mysterious medium as a letter appeared to them to be.

Although the Indians had Smith unarmed and completely in their power, they were not at all satisfied of his inability to harm them, and the question seems to have caused them considerable anxiety. The medicine men of the tribe undertook by incantations and other species of deviltry to ascertain whether the captive’s intentions towards them were good or otherwise. Smith was led in the morning to a large house in the centre of which a fire burned. Here he was left alone, and presently to him entered a hideous creature making unearthly noises in his throat to the accompaniment of a rattle, whilst he danced about the astonished Englishman in grotesque antics. This merry-andrew’s head was decorated with dangling snake-skins and his body painted in a variety of colors. After a while he was joined by three brother-priests who set up a discordant chorus of shrieks and yells, whirling and skipping about the house the while. They were painted half in black and half in red with great white rings round their eyes. Shortly these were joined by three more medicine men equally fantastic in appearance and actions. The ceremony was maintained by these seven throughout the day, much to the disgust of Smith, who soon found it tiresome and uninteresting and particularly so as it involved an absolute fast from dawn to sundown. In the evening women placed great mounds of food upon the mats of the house and invited Smith to eat, but the priests refrained from doing so until he had finished.

This performance was repeated on the two successive days, but we are not told what conclusion was reached by all the fuss.

XVII.

POCAHONTAS TO THE RESCUE

After a weary circuit of the Indian villages Smith is brought to Werowocomico--He is received by Powhatan in the “King’s House”--The chiefs in council decide to put him to death--He is bound and laid out, preparatory to being killed--Pocahontas intervenes at the critical moment--Powhatan’s dilemma and Opechancanough’s determination--“The Council has decreed the death of the paleface”--“I, Pocahontas, daughter of our King, claim this man for my brother”--The Indian maiden prevails--Smith is reprieved and formally adopted into the tribe--They wish him to remain with them and lead them against his own people.

One morning, shortly after the episode of the medicine men, Captain Smith learned, to his great relief, that commands had been received for his removal at once to the capital. He had no idea what, if any fate had been determined upon for him, but he was heartily tired of the weary wanderings and suspense of the past weeks and ready to face the worst rather than prolong the uncertainty. Werowocomico, the principal seat of the “Emperor” Powhatan, was short of a day’s journey distant, and Opechancanough, with his illustrious prisoner, reached the town as the early winter night was setting in. The capital of the Werowance consisted of about thirty large wigwams, or “houses,” as the earlier writers called them, and a number of smaller ones. These for the nonce were reinforced by the tepees, or tents, of the many Indians who had come in from distant villages for the occasion which was no ordinary one. The large wigwams were made in the form of the rounded tops of the wagons called “prairie schooners,” which in the days before railroads were used upon the continent of North America for long-distance travel. These wagon tops were sometimes taken off and placed upon the ground to serve as tents, when the occupants would be lying in a contrivance exactly like the ancient wigwam in shape. The latter was commonly big enough to contain a whole family and sometimes harbored an entire band of fifty or sixty natives. In that case it had two rows of apartments running along the sides and a common hall in the middle. The structure was composed of a framework of boughs covered with the bark of trees or with skins--sometimes a combination of both.

Smith’s captors approached the capital in triumphal fashion, chanting their song of victory and flourishing their weapons in exultant pride. The town was prepared to give them the reception usually accorded to victorious warriors returning from battle. Great fires burned at frequent points illuming the scene with a garish light in which the bedaubed and bedizened savages looked doubly hideous. Chiefs and people were attired in all their fantastic finery and even the children made some show of tawdry ornament. The women had prepared food with even more than ordinary profusion and had laid the mats in anticipation of the prospective feasting. A double line of fully armed and foully painted warriors--“grim courtiers,” Smith calls them--formed an avenue to the “King’s house” along which the captive passed into the presence of the great Werowance, whilst the spectators “stood wondering at him as he had been a monster.”

At the farther end of the wigwam, upon a platform, before which a large fire blazed, reclined the aged but still vigorous chieftain, upon a heap of furs. On either side of him stood the principal chiefs and medicine men of the tribe, whilst the women of his family grouped themselves behind. Two dense walls of warriors lined along the sides of the wigwam leaving a space in the centre which was covered by a mat. Upon this Smith took his stand and calmly surveyed the scene which was not without an element of rude beauty. A loud shout had greeted his entrance. In the profound silence that followed, two women--“the Queen of Appamatuck and another”--came forward with food which they placed before him and signed to him to eat. Our hero’s appetite and his curiosity never failed him under any circumstances. He had a habit of living in the present moment and not concerning himself unduly about the uncertain future. So, in this crisis, when the ordinary man would have been too much preoccupied with the thought of his fate to attend to the needs of his stomach, Smith addressed himself in leisurely fashion to the pile of food and at the same time studied the details of his surroundings with a retentive eye. Meanwhile, the savages stood silent and stock still as statues until he had finished.

When at length our hero rose refreshed and ready to face his fate, Powhatan also stood up and beckoned to him to approach the royal dais. Powhatan was arrayed in his state robe of raccoon skins. A band of pearls encircled his brow and a tuft of eagle’s feathers surmounted his head. Smith was impressed by the dignity and forcefulness of the old chief who addressed him in a deep bass voice.

“The paleface has abused the hospitality of Powhatan and requited his kindness with treachery,” said the chieftain in slow and solemn tones. “The paleface and his brethren came to Powhatan’s country when the summer was young and begged for food and land that they might live. My people would have slain them but I commanded that grain be given to the palefaces and that they be allowed to live in peace in the village which they had made. Was this not enough? Did not Powhatan thus prove his friendship and good will to the strangers in his land?”

We know that all this was a mixture of falsehood and sophistry. As such Smith recognized it, of course, but, as he did not wish to arouse the chief’s anger by contradicting him, he decided to keep silence and an immovable countenance. After a pause, during which he endeavored without success to read the effect of his words in the prisoner’s face, Powhatan continued:

“Powhatan’s people have given the palefaces abundance of food--venison and fowls and corn. They have furnished them with warm furs. They have shown them the springs of the forest. They have taught them to trap the beasts and to net the fish. And the palefaces, scorning the kindness of Powhatan and his people, turn their fire-machines upon them and slay them. You--their werowance--they send to spy out the land of Powhatan so that they may make war upon his villages in the night time. Now my people cry for your blood. What shall I say to them? How shall I again deny my warriors whose brothers you yourself have slain?”

“The Powhatan mistakes the purpose of myself and my people,” replied Smith. “It is our wish and intent to treat our red brothers with justice and friendliness. If we have killed some it hath been in defence of our own lives. Our fire-machines have spoken only when the bow was drawn against us. It is not in our minds to make war upon the great Powhatan nor yet to rob him of his lands. Whatsoever we ask at his hands we are ready to pay for. If the great Werowance allows the clamor of his warriors for my life to override his own good judgment, so be it. But I would warn Powhatan and his chiefs that my death will be the signal for relentless war against their people, for I am the subject of a mighty king whose rule extends over lands many times greater than those of Powhatan, whose soldiers are as numerous as the stars in the heavens and whose ships sail the seas in every direction. He will surely avenge my death with a bitter vengeance.”

Smith had no idea of committing himself to an argument and wisely contented himself with a brief statement of the facts, adding a threat that he hoped might give the savages pause. It was clear from Powhatan’s remarks that he was determined to place the prisoner in the wrong, and contradiction could have no good effect. Finding that his captive had nothing more to say, the Werowance sent him to a nearby wigwam with instructions that he should be made comfortable and allowed to rest. Meanwhile, the chiefs went into council over his fate.

Smith’s words had made a strong impression upon Powhatan, who was the most sagacious Indian of his tribe. He was altogether averse to putting the prisoner to death because he was forced in his mind to acknowledge the white men as superior beings with whom it would be dangerous to evoke a war. Doubtless they would soon send another chief to replace Smith and more would be gained by holding him for ransom than by killing him. But Powhatan’s wise conclusions were not shared by the other members of the council. With hardly an exception they were in favor of Smith’s death by the usual torturous methods. One of the chiefs was a brother of the man who had died as the result of a pistol wound inflicted by Smith in the skirmish preceding his capture. He was implacable in the demand for the usual satisfaction of a life for a life, and was warmly supported by Opechancanough who, to the day of his death at their hands, maintained an unappeasable hatred for the whole race of white men. Now Opechancanough was, after the great Werowance, the most influential chief in the tribe, and rather than incur his displeasure and that of the others, Powhatan yielded against his better judgment. He did this, however, only after having expressed his opinion to the contrary, and the real respect which he felt for Smith led him to stipulate that the captive should not be put to the torture but should be executed by the more humane and speedy means employed by the savages with members of their own tribe.

This conclusion of the council having been reached, Smith was brought again into the king’s house and informed of it. He bowed with courage and dignity to the decision which he felt that it would be futile to protest against and calmly held out his arms to the warriors who came forward to bind him. Whilst these tightly bound his hands to his sides and tied his feet together, others rolled into the centre of the wigwam a large stone. When this had been placed, the prisoner was required to kneel and lay his head upon it. This he did with the serene self-possession that had not been shaken in the least during this trying ordeal. At the same time he silently commended his spirit to his Maker, believing that the next moment would be his last on earth. The executioners stood, one on either side, their clubs poised ready for the signal to dash out his brains.

Powhatan was in the act of raising his hand in the fatal gesture that would have stamped our hero’s doom, when a young girl, as graceful as a doe and not less agile, burst through the throng that surrounded the Werowance and sprang to the prisoner’s side. Waving back the executioners with the haughty dignity derived from a long line of noble ancestors, she drew her slim and supple figure to its full height and faced the group of chieftains with head erect and flashing eyes.

“Pardon, Powhatan! Pardon, my father!” she cried in a rich voice quivering with emotion. “Pocahontas craves the life of the captive, and claims the right to adopt him as a brother according to the immemorial custom of our tribe.”