POWHATAN'S CORONATION
The trees grew so close together that it was difficult for the
Englishmen to distinguish in the shadows they cast the figures whirling
between the trunks. Half naked they were: here a mass of something
painted red; there flashed a white arm, of a whiteness such as nature
never dyed, and there issued shoulders of a brilliant blue, as they
advanced dancing and shrieking.
"All their war paint on!" ejaculated Captain Waldo.
And in that moment John Smith lost his faith in the friendship Powhatan
had sworn to him, and he drew his sword, ready to pierce the first
oncomer.
Then he looked again ... and hastily thrust his sword back into its
scabbard, shouting to his comrades who had also drawn their blades,
"Hold!"
For there before him, the first of the dancers who had run out of the
forest, advanced Pocahontas! On her head she wore branching antlers, an
otter skin at her waist and one across her arm, a quiver at her back,
and she carried a bow and arrow in her hand. In a flash she realized
what the Englishmen were thinking--that they were caught in an ambush.
"My Brother!" she cried out in a tone that rang with disappointment,
"didst thou too doubt me? Tell them, thy companions, that I lay my life
in their hands if any harm was intended."
Seldom in his life had John Smith felt so at a loss as to what he should
reply. He hurriedly explained to the others that Pocahontas was
evidently intending to do them special honour in welcoming them with
some kind of sylvan masque. Then facing her, he cried:
"Forgive us, Matoaka, and be not angry that we mistook thy kindness.
See, we seat ourselves here upon the ground and we beseech thee that
thou and thy maidens will continue thy songs and thy dancing, which will
greatly divert us."
Pocahontas's disappointment vanished at once and she sped back with her
comrades to the woods, where they repeated their masque, this time to
the amusement of the Englishmen, who were somewhat ashamed to think that
they had been so frightened by a troop of girls. All of the dancers were
horned like their leader and the upper parts of their bodies and their
arms were painted red, white or blue. There was a fire blazing in the
centre of the field and around this they formed a ring, dancing and
singing a song which, while unlike anything Smith's companions had ever
heard, affected their pulses like drumbeats. Some of the words they sang
Smith was able to catch words of welcome, songs of young maidens in
which they told of the joys of childhood and of the days when
sweet-hearts would seek them and when they would follow some brave to
his wigwam.
Pocahontas, he thought, was as graceful as a young roe; her feet were as
quick as the flames of the fire, and every now and then, from the very
exuberance of her happiness, she shot an arrow over their heads into the
trees beyond. Smith could not help wondering what kind of a husband she
would follow home some day.
The masque lasted an hour; all the different motions were symbolic, as
Smith had learned all Indian dances were, and much of it he was able to
comprehend. In any case he would have enjoyed the masque, knowing that
Pocahontas had performed it to honour her father's guests. When it was
over, suddenly as they had come, the maidens vanished into the dark
forest.
The Englishmen were not left alone, however, for during the dancing a
number of braves and squaws had come to look on at the ceremony and even
more at the audience. Now Nautauquas came forward and greeted Smith.
"My father hath just returned. He hurried back when he learned that ye
were to visit him. He hath had the guest lodge prepared and awaits your
coming there."
Powhatan greeted them when they entered the lodge, which Smith
recognized at once as the one where his life had been in such jeopardy.
"Tell them they are welcome, thy comrades," he said to Smith, "and thou,
my son, art always as one of mine own people."
They seated themselves on the mats spread for them, and the usual
feasting began, the Englishmen doing more than justice to the Indian
dishes.
"'Tis a strange beast and of a rare flavor withal, this raccoon," said
Waldo, "and methinks the King at Westminster hath no better trencher
meat. Hath the old savage asked of thee yet our errand, Smith?"
"An Indian never asks the errand of his guest," he replied; "but now we
have eaten it is not meet that I delay longer to tell him."
He rose to his feet and began to speak. Pocahontas, who had stood at the
entrance looking in, now entered and sat down at her father's feet.
"Ruler of many tribes, Werowance of the Powhatans, Wahunsunakuk, we have
come to bring the greetings sent thee from across the sea by our own
great werowance, James. With the English, the Spaniards, the French and
other great peoples beyond the seas, their greatest chief who rules many
tribes is called a 'king.' He is mightier than all other werowances,
hath always much riches and honour, and when the time comes that, by the
death of an old king or by conquest, a new king takes his place, he is
crowned. They put a circlet upon his head and in his hand they place a
staff of honour and upon his shoulders they throw royal robes, so that
all who see shall know that this is the King and that all must do him
fealty. Our own King James, who hath heard of thee, and of the many
tribes that are subject to thee, hath desired that thou, too, shouldst
be crowned as another king, his friend, so that the English may know
that he calls thee 'brother,' and that thine own people shall hold thee
in yet greater awe."
Powhatan manifested no sign of interest in these words; but from the
eager look on Pocahontas's face Smith was aware that his Indian speech
had at least been comprehended.
"Therefore," Smith continued, "it is planned to hold thy coronation at
Jamestown upon as near a day as thou shalt see fit to appoint. Our King
hath sent presents for thee which await thy coming to us."
Then he ceased and looked to Powhatan for an answer. The werowance
thought a moment in silence, then he spoke:
"If your king hath sent me presents, I also am a king, and this is my
land; eight days I will stay to receive them. Your Father is to come to
me, not I to him, nor yet to your fort."
He spoke with so kingly a dignity that the Englishmen did not seek to
dissuade him. They promised to do as he wished and to persuade Newport,
whom he called their "father," to go to Werowocomoco, which might be
considered as Powhatan's capital. Then they departed for Jamestown,
after having thanked Powhatan and Pocahontas for their entertainment.
Pocahontas awaited their return with eagerness. She talked the matter
over with Nautauquas. Perhaps, she said, there was some strange medicine
in this ceremony which would make their father invulnerable and
perchance safe even from death itself.
"I have more faith in the white men's guns than in their medicine,"
declared Claw-of-the-Eagle. "Ever since one of those fat housebuilders
whom they call Dutchmen let me try to fire off one of them, I know now
that they are not worked by magic. If we could manage to get enough of
them we should be ten times as strong as their starving company and
could destroy all of them before another shipload of newcomers arrived."
"Nay," cried Pocahontas, "not as long as our brother, the captain,
lives. Thou couldst not even face his eyes when he is angry."
She did not imagine that she was stating an actual fact.
Claw-of-the-Eagle had never been able to look Smith in the eye since he
crawled away from the lodge where he had meant to kill the white man. It
was only Smith himself who awed him so; but he dreamed that some day he
might be able to deal a blow in the dark when those terrible eyes could
not stop him. In the meantime he felt equal to meeting the other
palefaces day or night.
"But," asked Nautauquas slowly and gravely, as if weighing the matter,
"why should we wish to destroy these white men? I once had different
thoughts, and I have gone alone into the forest and fasted and prayed to
Okee that I might know whether to greet them as foe or friend. In some
way the white tribes that live across the great waters have found their
way westward. Many have come, the rumor is, to the south of us, men of
different race and different tongue from these on the island. These
others are cruel to the Indians among whom they have settled and have
destroyed many villages and made captive their braves and squaws. Now I
have talked with our father, Wahunsunakuk, of what I now speak, since we
can no longer hope to hide our trail again to these wanderers from the
rising sun, that it is better to make friends of these who have come and
who seem well-disposed towards us, and to have them for allies rather
than enemies."
In spite of himself, Claw-of-the-Eagle was impressed with this
reasoning.
"Dost thou then like these paleface strangers and their ways?" he asked.
"There is much about them I do not understand," replied Nautauquas; "how
they can wear so many garments; why they build them houses that let in
no air; why they come here when they have villages beyond the seas; yet
I know that they are brave and that their medicine is mighty."
Pocahontas spoke little. She had never told anyone how much interest she
found in all that concerned the white men and their ways.
It was some days later that Smith, Captain Newport and fifty men started
to march to Werowocomoco for the coronation of Powhatan. The presents
which the King and the governors of the Colony in London had chosen for
him were sent by boat up the river. When the company of Englishmen in
their farthingale-breeches, slashed sleeves and white ruffs, their
swords and buckles glistening, accompanied by a few soldiers bearing
halberds and long muskets, arrived, the entire population of the village
and those of other villages for leagues about were awaiting them. Braves
and squaws had decked themselves out also in their choicest
finery--necklaces and beads and embroidered robes.
It was a wonderful picture that the dark surrounding forest looked
upon--the group of gaily colored Indians facing the more soberly dressed
Europeans. Round them circled children, pushing, peering between their
elders that they might miss nothing. And through it all, running from
one group to the other, welcoming, explaining, smiling and laughing,
flitted the white-clad Pocahontas.
After their greeting, when Powhatan and Captain Newport eyed each other
appraisingly, the gifts were brought into the field where Pocahontas had
danced her masque and spread out before the curious gaze of the savages.
Pocahontas, in her white doeskin skirt and wearing many strings of white
and blue beads, went about among her new friends, and laid her hand into
that of Captain Newport, as Smith had told her was the manner in which
the English greeted one another. Some of the chieftains scowled at the
sight and did not relish the friendliness shown by her to the strangers.
Several even remonstrated with Powhatan who, however, would not restrain
her. After a few words with Smith, she rejoined Cleopatra and others of
her sisters at one side of the field.
"What is yon curious thing, Pocahontas?" they questioned of her superior
knowledge, as the wrappings were taken off a bedstead that Captain
Newport by means of signs presented solemnly to Powhatan.
"That," she answered, having had a glimpse of such furniture at
Jamestown, "that is a couch on which they sleep."
"Is it more comfortable than our mats?" asked Cleopatra. "I should fear
to fall out of it into the fire."
Plainly Powhatan, too, was at a loss to know what to do with it. The
next gifts, a basin and ewer, met with more enthusiasm. The squaws were
particularly interested in them when Pocahontas told them that they were
made of a substance which would not break as did their own vessels of
sun-baked pottery. But it was the red mantle of soft English cloth, in
shape like to the one, he was told. King James had worn at his
coronation at Westminster, that made Powhatan's grim features relax a
little with pleasure. Captain Newport placed it on the werowance's
shoulders and held a mirror that he might behold himself thus handsomely
apparelled.
Then they proceeded to the crowning. Newport would have liked to have
some words of ritual read, even though the principal of the ceremony had
not been able to understand them; but the chaplain pointed out that
neither the law nor the Prayer-Book made any provision for the crowning
of a heathen, and that after all it was the act, not the words, which
would impress the savages.
The drummer beat a loud tattoo and the trumpeter blew a call that
startled the squaws and the children into shrieks; the braves were
quicker in hiding their astonishment. Then Smith and Newport walked
forward, Newport holding the crown. Smith said:
"Kneel, Wahunsunakuk, that we may crown thee."
But Powhatan, whose understanding of these strange proceedings was not
clear, though he comprehended Smith's words, continued to stand stiff
and straight as a pine tree.
"Kneel down, oh, Powhatan," urged Smith. "Mistake not, this act is a
kingly one; so do all the kings of Europe."
But Powhatan would not. To him the posture was one unfitting to the
dignity of a mighty werowance, ruler over thirty tribes and lord of
sixty villages. He would accept presents sent him, and he had no
objection to wearing a glittering ring upon his head if the white men
chose to give him one; but he would not kneel; that was going too far in
his acquiescence to strange ways. Such a position was for suppliants
and squaws and children.
Smith was uncertain what to do. The officers of the Colony in London had
laid great stress upon a proper crowning, believing, as he did not, that
it would impress the Indians as the symbol of an alliance between their
people and the English. He thought a moment, then whispered a word to
Newport. The two quickly laid their hands on Powhatan's shoulders and
pressed down gently but firmly, a pressure which bowed his knees
slightly. Then, before he had time to recover himself, Newport had
placed the crown upon his grizzled head.
According to orders, two soldiers, seeing that the ceremony was
accomplished, fired a salute with their muskets. Powhatan started
suddenly; Nautauquas raised his head like a deer scenting danger, and
some of the braves started to run towards the knot of white men. But the
calm demeanor of Smith showed them their error.
"We are quits," said Captain Waldo to Buckler; "the maids frightened us
with their masks and we have frightened their braves with our muskets."
Powhatan in the red robe and crown seated himself upon the mats that
were brought out to him, and Smith whispered to one of the gentlemen who
had accompanied him:
"In faith, Radcliffe, is he not more kingly looking than our royal
James?"
The idea of a coronation had seemed absurd to him, and he had believed
that the old chief would appear ridiculous decked out in mock finery,
but he admitted to himself that such was far from being the case.
Then the feast was brought on and the Englishmen again did full justice
to the Indian dishes. Pocahontas came and sat beside Smith.
"Welcome, little Sister," he said, "and how dost thou like thy father's
new robes?"
"He appeareth strange to me," she answered, "but he will not wear them
long. It is beautiful, that cloak, but he can paint his flesh as fine a
color with pocone, and it will not be so warm nor so heavy."
Smith laughed.
"Wouldst thou not like to try to wear clothes such as our women wear?
Perchance thou mayst try what they are like before long, for soon we
shall be seeing white squaws come over on the ships."
"Do white men have squaws, too?" asked Pocahontas in astonishment.
"For a surety. Didst thou think Englishmen could live forever without
wife or chick at their hearths?"
"And thou, my Brother," she queried eagerly, "will thy squaw and thy
children come soon?"
"I have none, Matoaka; my trails have led through so many dangers that I
have not taken a squaw."
"But a squaw would not fear danger if thou couldst take her with thee,
or if not, she would wait in thy lodge ready to welcome thee on thy
return. She would have soft skins ready for thy leggings, new mats for
thee to sleep upon; she would point out all the stores of dried venison
she had hung on her tent-pole while thou wert gone, and fresh sturgeon
would she cook for thee and prepare walnut-milk for thy thirst."
"'Tis a pretty picture thou drawest, Matoaka," he answered, yet he did
not laugh at it. "Often I feel lonely in my wigwam and I wonder if some
day I shall not bring a wife into it."
"There would be none who would refuse thee," answered the girl simply.
Smith did not take in the significance of her words, yet his thoughts
were of her. Suppose he should throw in his lot altogether with this new
country and take for wife this happy, free child of the aboriginal
forest? It was only a passing thought. He had not time to consider it
further, for Newport had risen and gave the signal for them to start on
the return march to Jamestown. He rose, too, and bade farewell to
Pocahontas.
During the feasting Powhatan had been thinking over what he meant to do.
Gravely he presented to Captain Newport a bundle of wheat ears for
spring planting; then with the utmost dignity, he handed him the
moccasins and the fur mantle he had laid aside when they placed his
coronation robe upon him. Newport received them in amazement, not
knowing what he was to do with them; but Smith made a speech of thanks
for him.
"What did the old savage mean?" asked Newport as they were on their
homeward way. "Was it because he wanted to give a present in return?"
"Methinks," answered Smith, "that Powhatan hath a sense of humor and
doth wish to show us that his coronation hath so increased his
importance that his cast-off garments have perforce won new value in our
eyes."
[Illustration: Decorative]