JOHN ROLFE
To John Rolfe and to all who observed closely the Lady Rebecca--as she
was now called--it seemed as if the little Indian maiden had put on a
new womanly dignity since her baptism. And to John Rolfe in special she
grew more lovely every day. He spent much time with her, strolling all
over Jamestown island and even the mainland. In the woods she taught him
as much as he taught her in the town: to observe the habits of the wild
animals and to find his way through a trackless forest. Often they would
go in a boat to catch fish or to dig for oysters in the Indian fashion.
At times Rolfe was very happy, and at other moments perplexed and cast
down. It was joy for him to be in the company of one who made him feel
how splendid a thing was life and how full of interest and beauty the
woods, fields and river. Yet when the thought of marriage came to him he
remembered the difficulties in the way. First, she was, though called a
princess, only the child of a cruel savage chief and one accustomed to
savage ways. Why should he, an English gentleman, choose her instead of
a woman of his own race brought up in the manner of his people?
Then, even if he were willing, it was unlikely that Powhatan would
consent to let his daughter wed a white man or the Governor on his side
allow it. So he pondered; but no matter what the obstacles in his way,
he came back again and again to his determination to win Pocahontas's
love and to marry her. Now that she had become a Christian, there was
one less barrier between them.
Rolfe believed that his feelings for Pocahontas had gone unnoticed by
anyone, but Mistress Lettice, who had grown very fond of the Indian
maiden confided to her especial care, was far from blind in anything
that concerned her charge. Moreover, she had heard enough of the
discussions which went on in the Council to know that such a marriage
would be approved, since it would secure to the Colony the valuable
friendship of Powhatan. But she was also aware of an obstacle which
might prevent its coming to pass. This knowledge of hers she was
determined to share.
One day she invited certain members of the Council to her house to drink
a cask of sack her brother in London had sent her by the last ship. She
had baked cake, also, and so excellent was its taste after the weariness
of plain baker's bread, that many of her guests sighed at the
remembrance of their womanless households; and those who had wives
behind in England determined to send for them without further delay.
"But what I have to say, your Worships," she continued when she had
ceased serving and had settled down in a highbacked chair to rest, "is
that the Lady Rebecca will never wed another while she harboureth the
thought of Captain Smith's return."
"What! did he teach her to love him?" exclaimed one who would gladly
have listened to any ill of Smith.
"Nay, if ye should even question her thus she would not know how to
reply. She thinketh and speaketh of him constantly and in her thoughts
he standeth midway between a god and an elder brother, even as she doth
call him. All the knowledge she acquireth is learned because she
believeth he would wish it and will be glad to know that she is no
longer the ignorant child of the woods as he first saw her. She wished
even to delay her baptism because she expecteth him by every ship, and
this I know full well--she will marry no man until she hath speech with
Captain Smith or," here she paused significantly, "she believeth him to
be dead."
She paused again to let her words sink in. Mistress Lettice wished no
harm to Pocahontas. Indeed she loved her dearly and desired above all
things to see her happy. And she believed that Rolfe as her husband
would make her happy. Smith, if not indeed dead, was not likely to
return to Jamestown, and therefore he might better be dead as far as
Pocahontas was concerned, she thought. The worthy dame had picked her
audience, which was composed chiefly of men who were well known to be
enemies of Smith, who would not hold back from a slight untruth when
they felt sure that it would help to secure safety from Indian attacks,
which were proving so disastrous to their small community.
"We are mightily amazed at thy words. Mistress Lettice," said one of
her guests at last; "and in truth it hath taken thy woman's eyes to see
what was going on under our very noses and thy woman's tongue to show us
the importance of Master Rolfe's courtship to the welfare of the Colony.
If so small a thing as what thou hast suggested is all that stands
between us and the confirmation of this marriage, why, that is as easily
disposed of as this flagon of thy brother's sack which I drink to thy
health."
He put the emptied cup upon the table and the company rose to go, now
that both business and pleasure were finished. They did not need much
talk about what they intended to do.
As they were bidding Mistress Lettice farewell, with many compliments on
her housewifery and her zeal for the settlement, Pocahontas appeared at
the door. She had been, as Mistress Lettice well knew, away with Rolfe,
showing him how her people planted tobacco, since he had become much
interested in this weed--being the first in the Colony to grow it--and
had expressed what seemed to his neighbors ridiculous hopes of future
wealth to be derived from the sale of tobacco in England.
Pocahontas looked about her with eagerness, and while the men doffed
their hats, she asked:
"What hath happened, sirs, that so many come to visit us at one time? It
is like our councils when the old chiefs debate about the council
fires."
No one was anxious to be the first to answer, but since some reply was
necessary, the councilor who had testified to Mistress Lettice's insight
said slowly and solemnly:
"We have come. Princess, to condole with thee at the death of thy
friend, Captain John Smith."
"Dead!" cried Pocahontas. "He is dead?"
And the men, who wished not to burden their consciences with a spoken
lie, all nodded assent. They thought to see the girl burst into tears or
run away, as they had more than once seen her do when she was
displeased; but instead she stood still, her face as motionless as a
statue's. They were glad to slip away with muttered words of sympathy.
Nor when they were gone did Mistress Lettice's curious and affectionate
eyes witness any sign of sorrow.
"I own myself wrong," she said that night to her husband; "she careth
naught for the Captain. I wept all day last Michaelmas when my old dog
died."
But Mistress Lettice did not hear the door unlatched that night, nor the
moccasined feet of Pocahontas as they sped through the street down to a
quiet spot on the river bank whither she often went. The maiden's heart
was so full that under a roof she felt it would burst. And until dawn
she stood on the shore, her face turned eastward towards the sea across
which he had sailed away, bewailing her "Brother" in the manner of her
people, now calling to Okee to guide him to the happy hunting grounds,
and now praying God to bear his soul to the Christian heaven.
* * * * *
John Rolfe found nothing amiss with Pocahontas when he saw her next day,
nor did any of the conspirators tell him of the false news that they had
communicated to Lady Rebecca or their interest in his wooing.
And his wooing was very gentle and wonderful to Pocahontas. No Indian
lover, she knew, ever won his squaw in this way. She listened to his
words with amazement when he told her that he wanted her to be his wife,
to make a home for him in this new land. When she gave him her word she
felt much as if she were the very heroine of one of the tales she had
listened to so often about the lodge fire, a deer perhaps that was to be
magically transformed into human shape, or a bird on whom the spirits
had bestowed speech--so immeasurably superior did the English still
appear to her.
It was some weeks later that Sir Thomas Dale, grown impatient for a
settlement of their differences with Powhatan, decided to go to
Werowocomoco and take Pocahontas with him to act as peacemaker. With
them, on Argall's ship, went John Rolfe and Master Sparkes and one
hundred and fifty men.
When they tried to land at a village near Werowocomoco the Indians were
very arrogant and opposed their passage. In return the English fired
upon them and when the terrified savages ran into the forest to escape
the white men's weapons, the victors burned all the lodges of the town
and wantonly spoiled the corn stacked up in a storehouse.
Pocahontas, who was sorrowful at the enmity between those she loved,
besought Sir Thomas:
"Let me go among my people. They will harken to me and I will hasten to
my father, and when he beholdeth me once more he will deny me nothing.
And it is a long time since I have looked upon his face," she pleaded.
But Sir Thomas refused. He was not minded to lose this valuable hostage;
even though Pocahontas might be eager to return, he was sure that the
old chieftain would never let her leave him.
"Prithee, then," she suggested sadly, "send messengers in my name,
saying that ye will abstain from further fighting for a night and day.
If the messengers bear this feather of mine," here she took a white
eagle's feather from her headband, "they may pass in safety where they
will." As they were leaving she charged them: "And beg of my father to
send my brothers to see me, since I may not go to them."
Now that she was so near home again she was homesick for the sight of
some member of her family that she had not seen for many moons. Her
father would not come, she felt sure, because he would not wish to treat
with the white men in person. She waited anxiously, her eyes and ears
strained for the sound of the messengers returning.
An hour or so later she beheld in the distance two tall figures
approaching, and she sprang ashore from the boat, crying:
"Nautauquas! Catanaugh!" as her two brothers hurried to meet her.
"Is it indeed our little Matoaka?" asked Nautauquas, "and unharmed and
well?"
He looked at her critically, as if seeking to discover some great change
in her.
"We feared we knew not what evil medicine they might have used against
thee, little Snow Feather. How have they dealt with thee in thy
captivity?"
"But fear no longer," cried Catanaugh, whose glance was fixed upon the
canoe of the palefaces; "we shall rescue thee now if we have to kill
every one of them yonder to get thee free."
"Nay, my brothers," said Pocahontas, laying her hand gently on his
sinewy arm, "they are my friends, and they have treated me well. Look!
am I wasted with starvation or broken with torture? Harm them not. I am
come to plead with our father to make peace with them. It is as if yon
tree should plead with the sky and the earth not to quarrel, since both
are dear to it. The English are a great nation. Let us be friends with
them."
"Have they bewitched thee, Matoaka?" asked Catanaugh sternly. "Hast thou
forgot thy father's lodge now that thou hast dwelt among these
strangers?"
"Nay, Brother, but...."
Nautauquas was quick to notice Pocahontas's confusion and the blush that
stole over her soft dark cheek.
"I think," he said, smiling at her, "that our little Sister hath a story
to tell us. Let us sit here beneath the trees, as we so often sat when
we were wearied hunting, and listen to her words."
It was not easy at first for Pocahontas to explain how it had come
about. But as she sat there on the warm brown pine needles, snuggled
closely against Nautauquas's shoulder, she found courage to tell of the
strong, fine Englishman who had taught her so much, and how one day he
had asked her to become his squaw after the manner of the white people.
She told them also how Sir Thomas Dale, the Governor, had willingly
given his consent.
"Believe ye not," she concluded, looking eagerly first at one and then
the other of her brothers, "that our father will make peace for my sake
with the nation to which my brave belongeth?"
Catanaugh said nothing, but Nautauquas laid his hand on his sister's arm
and looked her in the eyes searchingly:
"Art thou happy?"
"Yea, Brother, very happy. He is dear to me because I know him and
because I know him not. Thou surely hast not forgotten how Matoaka ever
longed for what lay unknown beyond her."
"Hath thy manitou spoken?" questioned Nautauquas again.
"The God of the Christians is my god now," she answered.
"So should it be," said Nautauquas, although Catanaugh scowled; "a woman
must worship the spirits to which her brave prayeth. Then all is well
with thee?"
"All if my father will but make peace. I would I might go to see him.
Doth he love me still?" she asked wistfully.
"He saith," answered Nautauquas, "that he loveth thee as his life and,
though he hath many children, that he delighteth in none so much as in
thee."
Pocahontas sighed half sadly, half happily. "Bear to him my loving
greetings. Brother," she said, "and say to him that Matoaka's thoughts
go to him each day, even as the tide cometh up the river from the sea."
"He hath agreed," said Catanaugh, "to a truce until taquitock (fall of
the leaf) if the English will send important hostages to him, whom he
may hold as they hold thee."
"And Cleopatra and our other sisters and old Wansutis, how is it with
them all, and...." and Pocahontas strung the names of most of the
inhabitants of Werowocomoco together in her enquiries. She listened to
all the news they had to tell her of the great deeds accomplished by the
young braves and the wise speeches made by the old chiefs in council, of
the harvest dances, of the losses on the warpath, and of old Wansutis,
who had grown more strange and more silent since Claw-of-the-Eagle's
death. Then Pocahontas told them of the manner of his going; and
Catanaugh's eyes flashed as he heard of the three palefaces his friend
had slain.
They had not noticed how long they had sat there chatting until they saw
Sir Thomas himself coming down from the ship, accompanied by Rolfe and
Master Sparkes.
"These two, Princess," he said, "will be the hostages we send to thy
father; and thy brothers will remain with us."
The two Indians looked at the white men keenly. From the glance their
sister gave Rolfe they knew he must be her affianced husband. And Rolfe
looked with the same curiosity at his future brothers-in-law. They were
tall like their father, strong and well-built, men such as other men
liked to look at, no matter what their color might be. But it was
Nautauquas in particular that pleased him. He recalled that John Smith
had said of him that he was "the most manliest, comliest, boldest spirit
I ever saw in a savage."
After they had conversed for a little, Rolfe and Sparkes, accompanied by
certain Indians to whom Nautauquas confided them, set out on their way
to Werowocomoco. They did not fear that harm would come to them, but
they begrudged the time they must spend away from the colony. On their
arrival Powhatan, who was still angry with the English, refused to see
them, so Opechanchanough entertained them and promised to intercede
with his brother for them. Nautauquas's messenger had brought him the
news of Rolfe's relation to his niece.
In the meantime the truce was extended until the autumn and the
Englishmen were sent back to Jamestown. Nautauquas and Catanaugh had
enjoyed their time on the island among the palefaces, Catanaugh being
interested only in the fort and its guns and in the ship, and
Nautauquas, not only in these, but in talking as well as he could with
the colonists. He and Pocahontas again went hunting together on the
mainland, for the Governor allowed them full liberty to come and go as
they pleased, feeling sure that Nautauquas would keep his word not to
leave Jamestown until the Powhatan sent back Rolfe and Sparkes.
And the day that these returned the two braves set off to join their
father at Orapaks.
[Illustration: Decorative]