A white, silent world, shimmering under the brilliance of a full
moon riding high in the lighted heavens. The gnarled boughs of
twisted trees cast their inky shadows in fantastic tracery over its
glistening surface.
Seated around a roaring fire were some ten or twelve men, wrapped in
their long cloaks and vainly endeavoring to warm their aching limbs.
Among them was a newcomer, Adam Clotworthy, a rollicking blade whom
no misfortune seemed to chill. His great round body, covered with a
quilted doublet of scarlet cloth, rocked from side to side on legs
so short there seemed no room for joints at the knees. Stubby black
hair shot out around a face in which sly humor and common sense were
blended together by an expression of human kindness. A brown eye and
a blue eye, never looking in the same direction, stood sentinel on
either side of a huge nose that had a trick of working at the end
when he talked.
Coming now to the side of Kendall, he poked him in the ribs with his
elbow.
“Draw up your long shanks a bit and give a man room to sit down.”
With a muttered growl Kendall made room as Adam desired. Gathering
his cloak closely around him, Adam squashed down upon the ground like
a ripe tomato, from under which two huge boots stuck out straight in
front. His legs had disappeared under his mountain of flesh.
Captain Smith could not forbear joining in the shout of laughter that
burst involuntarily from the rest of the company.
Not in the least disconcerted by their laughter, Adam squirmed
around until he had made himself comfortable, and proceeded to open
conversation with the grim and scowling men around him.
“By my faith, Martin, you look like a mourner at a funeral! Take
heart, man; perhaps the ‘Injun’ lady you told me about will step over
to-morrow with a bushel or two of corn and a brace of wild turkeys.
Gad, I can smell ’em roasting now.”
“Quit your talk about food, or I will break every bone in your body;
that is, all that haven’t turned to grease,” said Kendall with a
scowl.
Misery again settled upon the faces of the men as they unconsciously
licked their cracked lips at the mention of the savory turkeys.
“Jealousy, man; pure jealousy is your disease,” returned Adam with a
sly wink of his brown eye. “If you had more flesh on that skeleton of
yours you would not be looking through blue spectacles, and we would
not be compelled to study anatomy all the time.
“I’ll tell you a tale about a real fat man I saw once. It happened
down at the ‘Three Swans’ just at Christmas time. I stopped there for
dinner, and I tell you it was worth eating. First there was a roast
pig—”
“Didn’t I tell you to quit talking about food!” bellowed Kendall.
“Marry, man, but you are hard to please. Whoever heard of a tavern
without food of some kind, even if it were only a posset of ale,
with a roasted apple bobbing around in it as it simmers beside the
fireplace. As I was saying—”
Crack, snap! silence. Crack, snap! again.
Hastily jumping to their feet, with their muskets ready for action,
the frightened men peered into the shadows. A low, gasping sob
floated out to them.
“’Tis Pocahontas,” said Captain Smith, and hastened into the shadows.
He soon came into the light, half supporting her almost frozen body
as she stumbled into the firelight. Her short deer skirt, soaked
with water, clanked its frozen folds together as she walked, and her
long black hair was matted with ice. Forgotten were cold and hunger
as the men quickly threw their cloaks upon the ground to make her a
seat, while George Percy wrapped his around her. Captain Smith seated
himself beside her, and as he gently chafed her hands, spoke soothing
words in an endeavor to check her hysterical sobs.
“My little child, my doe, your father is with you. All is well. See,
your friends are all around you. There now, my little one, do not
speak until you are warm.”
Gradually the puckering lips smoothed themselves into a trembling
smile as he wiped the tears away. For a moment Pocahontas forgot her
errand in the delight of being with him; but with remembrance fear
came rushing back, and springing to her feet she gasped out:
“Before another moon Powhatan will be upon you! Already men are on
their way bearing gifts. Do not be deceived. Two hundred warriors are
behind them armed with the scalping-knife. Pocahontas has traveled
many miles through the snow and waded streams to bring her father
warning.”
“O my little child, you have risked your life again!” cried Captain
Smith as he folded her in his embrace.
“Pocahontas loves the pale face better than life,” she answered,
cuddling down into his arms. “Joy sings in her heart when she dreams
she is a maiden of your people and the daughter of her pale face
father.”
The faces of the sternest men worked as they leaned on their muskets
and listened to the recital of her brave deed.
“Faith,” said Adam, “I haven’t had so much salt water in my eye since
old Father Neptune ploughed up his farm, coming over.”
Running their hands into their capacious pockets, the men brought
forth bells and beads and offered them to her in token of gratitude.
She shook her head, and great tears welled up, splashing down upon
the presents lying in her lap.
“Pocahontas dare not take them, although she likes them much.
Powhatan will kill her if he learns she has given warning.”
“I have something she will take,” said Adam, drawing forth a small
mirror. “I have yet to see the maiden who would not look at herself
every chance she got.” So saying, he rocked himself forward and
started to lay it in her lap.
Catching sight of him for the first time, she gave a shriek and
buried her face in Smith’s breast.
“Okee, Okee!” she wailed.
“Now whatever do you make of that?” exclaimed the astonished Adam.
“Who in the devil is Okee?”
“That’s just what he is, the devil,” said Kendall, laughing grimly.
“Truly a fine compliment from a primitive Eve to an ardent Adam.”
“No, no, my child. No Okee,” said Captain Smith, smoothing her hair.
“He is a good kind friend and likes Pocahontas.”
“Likes,” sniffed the discomfited Adam, “I never got as far as liking.
She didn’t give me time.”
Reluctantly putting aside Captain Smith’s enfolding arms, she rose to
her feet.
“Pocahontas must go. Already the moon is seeking her bed.”
“You must not go by yourself, my child,” remonstrated Smith. “If
Powhatan’s men meet you, they will take you to him and he will kill
you.”
“Pocahontas is content. Has she not saved her father and the pale
faces? Also she must go alone.”
One moment she smiled upon them, and the next she had gone.