Arriving at Jamestown, the exploring party came upon a scene of utter
confusion, misery, and fright. As they hastily landed they were met
by Chaplain Hunt, whose sad face foreboded evil tidings.
“Your prophecy has come true, Smith. Want of proper vigilance and
the lack of a fort have been our undoing. Last night while all
were asleep we were surprised by the Indians and many of our men
are dead. Fear has taken hold of the others to such an extent they
seem paralyzed, and will not stir to provide protection. All are
determined to leave with Captain Newport for home. I hope that your
coming will restore their courage.”
“Why does not Wingfield compel the men to go to work?” inquired Smith.
Mr. Hunt shrugged his shoulders, and with a gesture of helplessness
replied:
“Wingfield, I am sorry to say, thinks only of himself. He has no
feeling of responsibility or pity for his men. I know you for a man
of courage and a Christian. My only hope lies in you.
“I can do so little. Every move or suggestion I make is looked upon
with suspicion and jealousy. God knows I have no selfish end in view,
and I can only trust Him and wait.”
The coming of Captain Smith, with his courage and perseverance,
insensibly restored the spirits of the colonists. After he had talked
to them and urged them not to abandon the settlement they consented
to try a while longer, but no sooner was order restored than
Wingfield and his satellites set to work to breed envy and suspicion
of the brave soldier.
One morning after daily prayer had been said, the Rev. Mr. Hunt spoke
to the assembled men about their jealousy and suspicion of Captain
Smith.
“My friends,” said he, “we have come across to this land together,
here to found a home for ourselves and be a help to the benighted
savage. Let us put aside envy and backbiting, and trust one another.
Each one of us has a duty to perform in planting the English nation
upon this soil, and let us not forget the great end we have in view,
of bringing these poor savages to love and serve their Maker. Let
us treat them with forbearance and patience, making no retaliation
for the wrong done us. We must bear in mind that Ralph Lane’s men,
in killing a poor savage for the loss of a paltry silver cup, first
taught the Indian hatred for the white man. Before that time all was
peace and love between them. They listened gladly to the story of the
Heavenly Father’s love, and even stroked their bodies with the Word
of God, thinking in their simple way that mere contact would bring a
blessing. But I must speak to you of one other thing.
“There is one among you, courageous and God-fearing, who has your
interest alone at heart. In return for all his kindness you have
given him pain and heartache. Is this the spirit of a Christian?
Can we teach brotherly love to the savage when we lack it among
ourselves? Is it honest and manly treatment? I speak to you as man to
man. Look into your hearts and see if you have done as you would be
done by, and then repenting of your lack of charity, extend the hand
of comradeship to him.”
As they quietly listened to the words of the priest, over many faces
stole a look of shame and repentance; but some still sat with unmoved
countenances, among them Wingfield and his particular friends.
Captain Newport now made ready to return to England with his
shipload of clapboards hewn from the virgin forests surrounding
the settlement. The pinnace was to be left behind for exploring
expeditions as had been commanded by the London Company.
On the voyage to Virginia much of the food supply had been spoilt and
what was left was recklessly squandered. As long as the returning
ships stayed the sailors exchanged the food, which they had for the
voyage back to England, for tobacco and other possessions of the
settlers.
After they left it became necessary to place each man on an allowance
of food. A half pint of wheat and barley boiled in water served as
a day’s allowance. President Wingfield, however, had taken care to
provide beef, oatmeal, and sack for his private use.
He now saw fit to issue orders for the building of the long-needed
fort, and the men were put to work cutting down palisades and bearing
them to the appointed place. Few of them could be prevailed upon to
work in their weakened condition, and of those who did many died from
exhaustion.
The provisions of Wingfield were now nearly spent, and as he had no
intention of sharing the lot of the colonists, he and his friends
plotted to seize the pinnace and sail for the mother country.
One day John Laydon, returning from work on the fort, overheard
the conspirators talking together behind a clump of bushes, and he
immediately reported the matter to the Chaplain.
Hastily seeking out Captain Smith, Mr. Hunt repeated the story told
him by Laydon.
“What shall we do, Smith? At all costs such an outrage must be
prevented.”
“After evening prayer, when all of the men are together, I will
disclose the plot,” replied the Captain.
When the clock struck four the idle and the industrious alike
assembled under the stretched sail. There were the unsuspecting and
the plotters sitting side by side, and as the priest looked upon
them he could not keep the tremor out of his voice as he thought of
the helplessness of some and the treachery of the others. When the
last words of the blessing had been said, Captain Smith arose and
told them of the plot. As he pictured the selfishness of Wingfield,
his cruel treatment, and worst of all his intention of seizing the
pinnace, the anger of the men rose to white heat.
“He shall not be President any longer!” cried one. Immediately the
cry was taken up by the others, and Wingfield cringed in fear of
his life. A vote was then taken to elect a new President. Surely
Captain Smith would be chosen; but no, the seed of suspicion sown by
Wingfield had taken root. The colonists were not yet ready to trust
Captain Smith. Ratcliffe, the accomplice of Wingfield, was elected in
his stead.