The Princess Pocahontas Part 13

To John Smith there was something ghostly about this excursion by night, through an unknown country, with unknown men. He could not help wondering whether he had understood correctly all that Powhatan had said, or whether he dared believe he had meant what he said, or if he had not planned to kill him in the wilderness away from any voice to speak in his favor. Even though the werowance himself were acting in good faith, might not others of the chiefs have plotted to put an end to the white man whose coming and whose staying were so beyond their fathoming? In spite of these thoughts he went on apparently as unconcernedly as though he were strolling along the king's highway near his Lincolnshire home.

The call of some animal, a wildcat perhaps, brought the little company to a hurried standstill, and a whispered consultation. The sound might really come from some beast, Smith knew; on the other hand, it might be either a signal made by foes of the Powhatans or the call of another party of their tribe about to join them. In the latter case it boded ill for him. He clasped a stone knife he had managed to secrete at Werowocomoco. He could not overhear what the Indians were saying, but they were evidently arguing. Then when they seemed to have come to some decision, they started on once more.

Though the forest was so sombre. Smith's eyes had grown more accustomed to the blackness and he began to distinguish between the various shades of darkness. Once or twice he thought he saw to the side of them another figure, moving or halting as they halted, but when he looked fixedly he could distinguish nothing but the trunk of some great tree.

On and on they went, mocked at by owls and whippoorwills, crossing streams over log bridges, wading through others when the cold water splashed at a misstep up in his face. At last the blackness turned to grey, in which he could make out the fingers of his hand. Dawn was near.

Why, thought the Englishman, did they delay striking so long? If they meant to kill him, he hoped it might be done quickly. The phantom figure which had accompanied them after the halt following the wildcat call must soon act. Even a brave man must wish such a night as this to end.

Then the world ahead of him seemed to grow wider and lighter. The trees had larger s.p.a.ces between them and the figures of the Indians were like a blurred drawing. Was it a star shining before them, that light that grew brighter and brighter?

"Jamestown!" he cried out in his own tongue. "Jamestown! Yon is Jamestown! G.o.d be praised!"

The Indians gathered about him and began to question him eagerly. Would he give presents to them all; would they have the guns to carry back with them?

As they stood in a little knot, each individual of which was growing more distinct, a young man ran up behind them.

"Claw-of-the-Eagle!" they exclaimed.

The boy put into the hands of the astonished Smith a necklace of white sh.e.l.ls he remembered to have seen Pocahontas wear.

"Princess Pocahontas sends greetings," he said, "and bids thee farewell for to-day now that she hath seen thee safe again among thy people." His own scowl belied the kindliness of the message.

So John Smith knew that Pocahontas had accompanied him through the forest and that if death had been near him that night, it was she who had averted it from him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Decorative]

CHAPTER XI

POCAHONTAS VISITS JAMESTOWN

"We have brought the white werowance safely back to his tribe again,"

said Copotone, one of the guides, as they approached the causeway leading to Jamestown Island.

"Of a surety," remarked Smith, "since thus it was that Powhatan commanded."

It was his policy--a policy which did credit to the head of one who, in spite of his knowledge of the world, was still so young--never to show any suspicion of Indian good-faith.

"Now that we have led thee thither," continued Copotone, who on his side had no intention of betraying any secrets of the past night, "wilt thou not fulfil thy promise and give to us the guns and grindstone?"

"Ye shall take to your master whatever ye can carry," answered Smith, whose heart was beating fast at the sight of the huts and fort before him, the outlines of which grew more distinct each moment with the brightening day. He had answered the hail of the sentry who, when he had convinced himself that his ears and eyes did not betray him, ran out and clasped the hands of one he had never thought to behold alive again.

"Captain!" he exclaimed, "but it is indeed a happy day that bringeth thee back to us, not but that some of them yonder," and he pointed significantly towards the government house, "will think otherwise."

The Indians in the meantime were looking about them with eager curiosity as they strode through the palisades into the fort. It was but a poor affair, judged by European military standards, and absolutely worthless if it should have to withstand a siege by artillery. But to the savages it was an imposing fortress, the very laws of its construction unknown to them, even the mortar between the logs, a substance of which they had no comprehension. Over the bastion as they emerged on the other side they beheld the English flag floating. This they took to be some kind of an Okee, in which opinion Smith's action confirmed them, for taking off his hat, he waved it in delight towards the symbol of all that was now doubly dear to him.

But it was the guns which claimed the chief attention of the savage visitors. There were four of them, all pointing towards the forest, iron culverins with the Tudor Rose and E.R. (Elizabeth Regina) moulded above their breeches.

"Are these the fire-tubes of which we have heard?" asked Copotone eagerly, longing to feel them, but not daring for fear of unknown magic.

"Aye," answered Smith, "art thou strong enough to carry one to Werowocomoco?"

The Indians looked them over appraisingly, wondering if they could drag them through the forest.

"Set the match to this one, d.i.c.kon," commanded Smith with a grim smile.

"It behooves us to frighten well this escort of mine, or they would be trying to carry off one of my iron pets here to a strange kennel."

d.i.c.kon took up a tinder-box that lay on the bench beside him, and in a moment under the fixed gaze of his audience struck a light and applied it to the flax at the breech. There was a flash, then a loud report, and the Indians, as if actually hit, fell to the ground, where they stayed until they gradually convinced themselves that they were unhurt.

"If ye had been in front instead of behind ye had been killed," Smith said solemnly, desiring to impress them with the terrors of the white man's magic.

The Indians got to their feet and, though they said nothing, and did not attempt to run, John Smith knew that they were more terrified than they had ever been in their lives.

"Come," he said, leading the way from the fort to the town. "Since ye find our guns too heavy and too noisy I will seek more suitable presents for Powhatan and for you."

The colonists, roused by the cannon shot, had run out from their doors to see what had happened. They could scarcely believe their eyes, and it was not until Smith called to them by name and questioned them in regard to the happenings at Jamestown since his departure, that they were convinced he was himself. All were thin and gaunt, and they peered hungrily at the baskets of food the Indians bore. Most of them greeted Smith with genuine pleasure; others there were who frowned at the sight of him, who barely nodded a welcome, who answered him surlily and who got together in twos and threes to talk quickly as he pa.s.sed on.

Smith led the way to the storehouse and bidding the Indians wait outside, he went within and persuaded the man in charge to permit him to take a number of articles. When he came out his arms were full of colored cloths and beads, steel knives and trinkets of many sorts. The Indians gave him their baskets to empty and he filled them with the presents, going back for iron pots and kettles of glistening bra.s.s.

These he bade them carry to Powhatan. To each of his guides he gave something for himself. Then speaking slowly, he said to Copotone:

"Kehaten Pokahontas patiaquagh niugh tanks manotyens neer mowmowchick rawrenock andowgh (bid Pocahontas bring hither two little baskets and I will give her white beads to make her a necklace)."

He would gladly have sent a message of thanks for her care of him that night, but he thought it best not to do so, since she might not wish it known that she had followed him.

"Pray her to come and see us soon," he added as he bade farewell to his guides whose eagerness to show their treasures at home was even greater than their curiosity to see further marvels.

After he had seen them safely outside of the palisades, Smith stopped to enquire by name for such men as had not come out to greet him.

"Oh! Ralph, he's dead and buried," they answered; and of another: "Christopher? He wore away from very weakness. And Robin went a sen'night ago with a quartain fever. This is no land for white men."

"But thou lookest hale and hearty. Captain," remarked one of the gentlemen, leaning against his door for support. "I'll wager the death thou didst face was not by starvation."

Then Smith learned in full the pitiful story of what the colony had suffered during his absence: lack of food and illness had carried off nearly half the colonists, and those that remained were weak and discouraged. Death had taken both of his enemies and of his friends, but some who had been opposed to him formerly had been brought to see during his absence how with his departure the life and courage of Jamestown had died down. Men there are--and most of them--who must ever be led by some one, and in Smith these adventurers had come to see a real leader of men.

While Smith stood questioning and heartening the downhearted, President Wingfield came out of his house on his way to the Government House.

Smith doffed his hat and made a brave bow to honour, if not the man, at least the office he represented.

"So thou art returned. Captain Smith," said the President, coldly.

"Methinks thou hast not fared so ill, better belike than most of us.

Hast thou brought the provisions thou didst promise? We have been awaiting them somewhat anxiously. But first tell me where thou hast left Robinson and Emery, for the lives of our comrades, however humble, are of more value to us than even the sorely needed victuals."

Now Smith was aware that President Wingfield knew, as every other man in the colony knew, that Robinson and Emery were dead; the others had already discussed their fate with him. Therefore he realized that the President had some policy in putting such a question to him thus in public.

"Thou must have heard, sir, that they are dead," he replied. "Poor lads!

Disobedience was the end of them. Had they but followed my commands they had returned alive to Jamestown many days ago; but they must needs land on the sh.o.r.e, instead of keeping in the stream as I bade them, and they were slain by the savages after I was captured."