POCAHONTAS DEFIES POWHATAN
"Princess, Pocahontas!" cried Claw-of-the-Eagle, as he pointed excitedly
to the outskirts of the village, "look, yonder come thy uncle and his
men bringing the white prisoner with them."
Pocahontas, who a few moments before had jumped down from the grapevine
swing, where she had been idling, to peep into Claw-of-the-Eagle's pouch
at the luck his hunting had brought him, now started off running after
the son of old Wansutis, who was speeding towards the gathering crowd.
Never in all her life had she desired anything as much as she now
desired to gain a sight of this stranger.
"What doth he look like?" she called out, panting, to the boy ahead; but
her own swiftness answered the question, for she was soon abreast of the
procession. There, walking behind her uncle, unbound and apparently
unconcerned, she beheld the white man. Her eyes devoured every detail of
his appearance. She was almost disappointed to find that he had only
one head and two eyes like all the rest of her world. But his
beardedness, so unknown among her people, his youth, which showed itself
more in his figure and in his step than in his weatherworn features, his
cloth jerkin and his leather boots, but above all, the strange hue of
his face and hands offered enough novelty to satisfy her.
Smith noticed the Indian maiden, already in her thirteenth year, tall
above the average. In his wanderings through the Pamunkey villages he
had seen many young girls and squaws, but none of them had seemed to him
so well built or with such clean-cut features as this damsel who gazed
at him so fixedly. When Opechanchanough, catching sight of her, made a
gesture of recognition, Smith knew that she must have some special claim
to distinction, since it was unusual, he had observed, for a chief to
notice anyone about him while occupied in what might be called official
duty. He felt sure too that he had now come to the end of his
journeyings. In the other towns through which he had travelled he had
heard men speak of Werowocomoco and of the great werowance who held sway
there, the dreaded ruler over thirty tribes. This large village he knew
must be the seat of the head of the Powhatan Confederacy and he was
about to be led before him. What would happen then, he wondered, as he
walked calmly through the crowd who eyed him curiously.
And this, too, was what Pocahontas was thinking: what would her father
do with this man? Would his strange medicine, which those who had
ventured to Jamestown had much discussed, assist him in his peril? She
had listened to much talk lately about the necessity of getting rid of
all the white faces who had dared come and build them houses on land
which had belonged to her people since the beginning of the world. Here
was the first chance her father had had to deal with the interlopers.
She determined to see and hear all that should take place, so she
hurried ahead to the ceremonial lodge, where she was sure to find her
father, and entered it unchallenged by the guards.
Once inside, she realized that the stranger's coming had been expected;
probably Opechanchanough had sent runners ahead whom she had not chanced
to see. All the chiefs were gathered there waiting and there also sat
the Queen of Appamatuck, the ruler of an allied tribe. She noticed that
her father, in the centre of a raised platform at the other end of the
lodge, had on his costliest robe of raccoon skin, the one she had
embroidered for him. All the chiefs were painted, as were the squaws,
their shoulders and faces streaked with the precious pocone red. She
regretted that she had not had time to put on her new white buckskin
skirt and her finest white bead necklace, since this was such a gala
occasion. On the other side of Powhatan sat one of his squaws, and her
brothers and her uncles Opitchapan and Catanaugh squatted directly
before him. She herself stood against the wall nearest to the mother of
her sister Cleopatra. She wished she had tried to bring in
Claw-of-the-Eagle with her. How interested he would have been; but it
was not likely that he would manage to get past the guards now, since
there were so many of his elders who must be excluded for lack of room.
While she was still looking around to see who the lucky spectators
were, the entrance to the lodge was darkened and a great shouting went
up from all the braves as Opechanchanough strode in, followed by his
prisoner.
Powhatan sat in silence until Smith stood directly before him, and then
he spoke:
"We have waited many days and nights to behold thee, wayfarer from
across the sea."
Smith, looking up at him, saw a finely built man of about sixty years,
with grizzled hair and an air of command. He smiled to himself at the
strangeness of his fancy's play, but the air of this savage chieftain,
this inborn dignity of one conscious of his power, he had seen in but
one other person--Good Queen Bess!
"I too have listened to many voices which have told of thy might, great
chief," he answered, speaking the unfamiliar words slowly and
distinctly.
Then in the pause that followed the Queen of Appamatuck came forward and
held out to Smith a bowl of water for him to wash his hands in.
Pocahontas leaned eagerly forward to see whether the water would not
wash off some paint from his hands, leaving them the color of her own,
for might it not be, she had questioned Claw-of-the-Eagle, that these
strangers were only _painted_ white? But even after Smith had wiped his
fingers upon the turkey feathers the Queen handed to him, they remained
the same tint as his face.
At the command of Nautauquas, the slaves began to bring in food for the
feast which preceded any discussion of moment. An enemy, be he the
bitterest of an individual or of the tribe, must never be denied
hospitality. Baskets and gourds there were filled with sturgeon,
turkey, venison, maize bread, berries and roots of various kinds, and
earthern cups of pawcohiccora milk made from walnuts. Powhatan had
motioned Smith to be seated on a mat beside the fire, and taking the
first piece of venison, the werowance threw it into the flames as the
customary sacrifice to Okee. Then he was served again, and after him
each dish was offered to the prisoner.
There was little talk while the feasting continued. Pocahontas, who did
not eat, lost no motion of the stranger's.
"At least," she thought, "he lives by food as we do." And she watched to
see whether he would entangle his meat in his beard.
At last every one had eaten his fill and the dogs snarled and fought
over the scraps until they were driven from the lodge. Then Powhatan
began to question his prisoner.
"Art thou a king?"
"Nay, lord," replied the Englishman when he had comprehended the
question; "I but serve one who ruleth over many thousand braves."
"Why didst thou leave him?"
Smith was about to answer that they sought new land to increase his
sovereign's dominions, but he realized that this was not a favorable
moment for such a statement.
"We set forth to humble the enemies of our king, the Spaniards," he
replied, and in this he was not telling an untruth, because the
colonization in Virginia had for one of its aims the destruction of
Spanish settlements in the New World.
"And why did ye come ashore on my land and build yourselves lodges on my
island?"
"Because we were weary of much buffeting by the waves and in need of
fresh food."
For a moment at least Powhatan seemed content with this explanation. His
curiosity in regard to the habits of these strangers was almost as keen
as that of his daughter.
"Tell me of thy ways," he commanded. "Why dost thou wear such garments?
Why hast thou hair upon thy mouth? Worship ye an Okee? How mighty are
thy medicine-men? And how canst thou build such great canoes with
wings?"
Smith endeavored to satisfy him. He dilated upon the power of King
James, though in his mind that sovereign could not be compared for regal
dignity to this savage; the bravery of the colonists, the wonder of
silken garments and jewels worn by the men and women of his land. And
remembering his duty as a Christian, he tried to explain the mysteries
of the Christian faith to this heathen, but he found his vocabulary
unequal to this demand. He could see that he was making an impression on
his listeners; the greater their awe for his powers, the more chance
that they might be afraid to injure him. Opechanchanough spoke to his
brother, telling him of the watch and compass. Powhatan seized them
eagerly, turned them over and over and held them to his ear, listening
while Smith explained their use.
"I would fain know of those strange reeds ye carry that bear death
within them," commanded the werowance again. "By what magic are ye
served? Could not one of our shamans or our braves make it obey him
also?"
[Illustration: "LET US BE FRIENDS AND ALLIES, OH POWHATAN"]
Smith was aware that the Indians' fear of the white man's guns was the
colony's greatest protection. So he answered:
"If my lord will come to Jamestown, as we call the island, since we
know not by what name ye call it, he himself shall see guns as much
greater than this one at my side," and he pointed to his pistol, "as
thou art greater than lesser werowances."
This answer moved Powhatan strangely. He spoke rapidly, in words Smith
could not understand, to some of the chiefs before him. Then turning to
Smith again, and speaking in a tone no longer curious but cold and
stern, he asked:
"How soon will ye set forth in your canoes again for your own land?"
The question Smith had dreaded must now be answered. There was danger in
what he must say, yet perchance there was also the hope of soothing the
fears of the savages. At all events, a lie were useless even if he had
been able to tell one.
"The land is wide, oh mighty king, this land of thine, and a fair land
with food enough and space aplenty for many tribes. Bethink thee of
thine enemies who dwell to the north and west of thee who envy thy corn
fields and thy hunting grounds. Will it not advantage thee when we, to
whom thou wilt present, or perchance if it please thee better, _sell_ a
little island and a few fields on the mainland, shall join with thee and
thy braves on the warpath against thy foes, and when we destroy them for
thee with our guns? Let us be friends and allies, oh Powhatan. I will
speak frankly, as it behooveth one to speak to a great chief, this land
pleaseth us and we would gladly abide in it."
The Englishman could not read in the expressionless face of the
werowance what he was thinking of this proposition--the first attempt of
the colonists to explain their presence in the Indians' domain. But the
shouting from all sides of the lodge which followed showed him that the
other chiefs were strongly roused by his words. There was a long
consultation: Powhatan spoke first, then a priest of many years who was
listened to with great consideration, then one of the older squaws
expressed her opinion, which seemed to voice that of the braves as well.
Smith, knowing that his fate was being decided, tried to catch their
meaning, but they spoke so rapidly that he comprehended only a phrase
here and there. At last, however, Powhatan waved his hand for silence
and issued a command.
It was the death sentence. Every eye was turned upon Smith. Well, they
should see how an Englishman met death. He smiled as if they had brought
him good news. If only his death could save the colony, it had been
indeed a welcome message. Not that he did not love life, but he was one
of those souls to whom an ambition, a cause, a quest, is dearer than
life. And because of its very weakness, its dependence upon him, the
colony had come to be like a child he must protect.
Pocahontas, when she listened to her father's verdict, felt within her
heart the same queer faintness she had experienced when
Claw-of-the-Eagle was running the gauntlet. And seeing the Englishman
smile, she knew him to be a brave man, and somehow felt sorry for him.
She was sorry for herself also. He could have told her many new tales of
lands and people, far more interesting that those of Michabo, the Great
Hare. How eagerly she would have listened to him! Her father was a wise
leader and he did well to fear, as she had heard him tell his chiefs,
the presence in his land of these white men with their wonderful
medicine; but why must he kill this leader of them, why not keep him
always a prisoner?
She saw that the slaves had lost no time in obeying the command given
them--they were dragging in the two great stones that had not been used
for many moons. These were set in the open space before Powhatan and she
knew exactly what was to follow.
Was there any possible way of escape? John Smith asked himself. If there
had been but one loading in his pistol he would have fired at the
werowance and trusted to the confusion to rush through the crowd and out
of the lodge. But it was empty. No use struggling, he thought; he had
seen men who met death thus discourteously and he was not minded to be
one of them. So, when at a quick word from Powhatan two young braves
seized him, he made no resistance. They threw him down on the ground,
then lifted his head up on the stones, while another savage, a stone
hatchet in his hand, strode forward and took his stand beside him.
"Well," thought John Smith, "life is over; I have travelled many a mile
to come to this end. What will befall Jamestown? At least I didn't fail
them. I'm glad of that now."
He saw Powhatan lean forward and give a sign; then the red-painted face
of his executioner leered at him and he watched the tomahawk descending
and instinctively closed his eyes.
* * * * *
But it did _not_ descend. After what seemed an hour of suspense he
opened his eyes again to see why it delayed. The man who held it still
poised in the air was gazing impatiently towards the werowance, at
whose feet knelt the young girl Smith had noticed by the palisade. The
child was pleading for his life, he could see that. Were these savages
then acquainted with pity, and what cause had she to feel it for him?
But the werowance would not listen to her pleadings and ordered her
angrily away. His voice was terrifying and the other squaws, fearing his
rage might be vented on the child, tried to pull her up to the seat
beside them. Powhatan nodded to the executioner to obey his command.
With a bound Pocahontas flung herself down across Smith's body, got his
head in her arms and laid down her own head against his. The tomahawk
had stopped but a feather's breadth from her black hair, so close that
the Indian who held it could scarcely breathe for fear it might have
injured the daughter of The Powhatan.
For a moment it seemed to all the anxious onlookers as if the werowance,
furious at such disobedience, were about to order the blow to fall upon
both heads. There was silence, and those at the back of the lodge
crowded forward in order not to miss what was to come. Then Powhatan
spoke:
"Rise, Matoaka! and dare not to interfere with my justice!"
"Nay, father," cried Pocahontas, lifting her head while her arms still
lay protectingly about Smith's neck, "I claim this man from thee. Even
as Wansutis did adopt Claw-of-the-Eagle, so will I adopt this paleface
into our tribe."
Every one began to talk at once: "She desires a vain thing!"--"She hath
the right."--"If he live how shall we be safe?"--"Since first our
forefathers dwelt in this land hath this been permitted to our women!"
Powhatan spoke sternly:
"Dost thou claim him in earnestness, Matoaka?"
"Aye, my father. I claim him. Slay him not. Let him live amongst us and
he shall make thee hatchets, and bells and beads and copper things shall
he fashion for me. See, by this robe I wrought to remind thee of thy
love for me, I ask this of thee."
"So be it," answered The Powhatan.
Pocahontas rose to her feet and, taking Smith by the hand, raised him
up, dazed at his sudden deliverance and not understanding how it had
come about.
[Illustration: Decorative]