Peace and plenty at the settlement—Smith sets out to discover the source of the Chickahominy—He falls into an ambush and has a running fight with two hundred warriors—Walks into a swamp and is forced to surrender—Opechancanough the chief of the Pamaunkes—Smith is put to a test of courage—He figures in a triumphal procession—Has suspicions that he is being fattened for the table—He sends a timely warning to Jamestown and diverts a projected attack by the Indians—Smith is dealt with by the medicine men—A strange, wild ceremony enacted by hideously painted and bedecked creatures.

The close of the year 1607 found the settlement in good circumstances. The store was well stocked with maize, peas and beans, smoked venison and fish, dried fruits and nuts. Warm coats and coverings had been made from fur and feathers and a large quantity of wood had been cut and stacked for fuel. There did not appear to be any danger of hardship in Jamestown during the ensuing winter, although such a careless and incompetent lot as our settlers were apt to create trouble for themselves out of the most favorable conditions. There were only three persons in authority—Ratcliffe, Martin and Smith. The first was a man of mean ability and doubtful integrity. Martin, honest and well-meaning, was a constant invalid and incapable of any degree of activity. Smith was by this time recognized by all as the true leader of the colony and the only man in it who could secure obedience and maintain discipline. When he was in Jamestown, order prevailed and work progressed. When he left, the settlers scarcely pretended to heed the orders of the other members of the Council. Indeed, Percy and Scrivener, who were known to be in full accord with Smith, had greater influence with the rank and file than Ratcliffe or Martin. In fact the north-country nobleman and the Londoner played the part of faithful watchdogs during the Captain’s absence, and it was arranged that one at least of them should always remain at Jamestown when Smith went abroad.

As we know, inaction was positively abhorrent to our hero and, the settlement being now thoroughly quiet and quite prepared for the winter, he determined on an expedition designed to trace the Chickahominy to its source. Exploration was one of the chief duties of the colonists and Smith, as he tells us, hoped that he might soon discover “some matters of worth to encourage adventurers in England.” The Indians along the river had been so friendly during his foraging trip the month before that he felt safe in making the present journey, but his military training and natural prudence would not permit him to relax his usual precautions. But there was one important feature of Indian tactics with which the American colonists had not become familiar. They had yet to learn how large bodies of redskins would watch a settlement, or track a party on the move, for days and weeks without allowing their presence to be known. Ever since their landing, the settlers had been under the sleepless eye of spies lying hidden in grass or behind trees, and from the moment Captain Smith left Jamestown his progress had been flanked by a body of savages moving stealthily through the woods.

The barge proceeded fifty miles up the river without incident, but presently the stream became too shallow to admit of its going farther. A canoe was secured from a village in the vicinity, with two Indians to paddle it. In this Smith decided to push on to the head of the river, taking with him two of his men. The remainder he left in the barge, instructing them not to go on shore and to keep a sharp lookout until his return. Twenty miles onward the canoe travelled when an obstruction of fallen trees brought the party to a halt. It seemed probable that the source of the stream could be but a few miles beyond and Smith determined to seek it on foot accompanied by one of the Indians. The other and the two Englishmen he left in the canoe, cautioning them to keep their matches burning, and at the first sign of danger to fire an alarm.

Smith had hardly gone a mile through the forest when he was suddenly startled by a shrill war-whoop. He could see no one and he had not been warned of danger by his men as agreed. He concluded, therefore, that they had been surprised and killed with the connivance of the guide. Even as the thought flashed through his mind he grappled with the Indian beside him and wrenched the bow from his grasp. It was done in an instant, and as quickly he bound an arm of the savage to his own with one of his garters. He had not completed the act when an arrow half spent struck him on the thigh and a moment later he discerned two dusky figures drawing their bows upon him. These disappeared at the discharge of his pistol, and he was congratulating himself on having routed them so easily when two hundred warriors, hideous in paint and feathers, rose from the ground in front of him. At their head was Opechancanough, the chief of the Pamaunkes.

The situation would have suggested surrender to the ordinary man. There could be no use in Smith’s contending against such numbers and to retreat to the river would be no less futile, since his men in the canoe must have been captured. It was not, however, in our hero’s nature to give up until absolutely obliged to do so. He could see no possibility of escape but he proposed to make it as difficult as possible for the savages to capture him. With this thought he placed the guide before him as a shield and prepared, with a pistol in each hand, to meet an onrush of the warriors. But they had no mind to rush upon those fearful fire-spitting machines and kept off, discharging their arrows from a distance that rendered them harmless. Seeing this, Smith began to retire, keeping his face towards the enemy and holding his human buckler in place. The Indians responded to this movement by cautiously advancing and at the same time they sought to induce the Englishman to lay down his arms, promising to spare his life in case he should do so. Smith positively declined the proposition, insisting that he would retain his weapons but promising not to make further use of them if he should be permitted to depart in peace; otherwise he would use them and kill some of his assailants without delay. The Indians continuing to advance upon him, Smith let go both his pistols at them and took advantage of the hesitation that followed to retreat more rapidly.

Of course this combat was of the most hopeless character and our hero must ultimately have been shot to death had not an accident suddenly put an end to his opposition. Still stepping backward and dragging his captive with him he presently walks into a deep morass and reaches the end of his journey in more than one sense, for it is in this swamp that the Chickahominy rises and he has fulfilled his undertaking to find the head of the river. It was at once clear to the dauntless explorer that he must yield, and that quickly, for he and his Indian were fast sinking in the icy ooze of the bog. He threw his pistols away in token of surrender and his savage adversaries rushed up and extricated him from his perilous situation.

It was with feelings of curiosity and interest on either side that Captain John Smith, the leader of the colonists, and Opechancanough, the chief of the Pamaunkes, confronted each other. Both men of noble bearing and fearless character, they must have been mutually impressed at the first encounter. The chief’s erect and well-knit frame towered above the forms of his attendant warriors and, together with the dignity and intelligence of his countenance, marked him as a superior being. In later years he played an important part in colonial history and met a shameful death by assassination whilst a captive in the hands of the authorities of Virginia.

Smith, whose presence of mind never deserted him, immediately addressed himself to the task of diverting the chieftain’s mind from the recent unpleasant circumstances and with that end in view produced his pocket compass and presented it to the savage. The Pamaunke was readily attracted by the mystery of the twinkling needle which lay in sight but beyond touch, and when our hero showed how it pointed persistently to the north, the wonder of the savage increased. Having thus excited the interest of his captors, Smith went on to hold their attention with a more detailed explanation of the uses of the instrument. He described, in simple language and with the aid of signs, the shape and movement of the earth and the relative positions of sun, moon and stars. This strange astronomical lecture, delivered in the depths of the forest, at length wearied the auditors and they prepared to set out on the return journey, for they had no thought of killing the captive at that time. He was a man of too much importance to be slain off-hand and without learning the pleasure of the great Powhatan in the matter. They did, however, tie him to a tree and make a pretence of drawing their bows upon him but, as the paleface met the threatened death without so much as blinking, the savages derived little satisfaction from the amusement. Before taking the march, Smith was given food and led to a fire, beside which lay the body of Emery, one of the men he had left in the canoe, stuck full of arrows.

The return of Opechancanough to the settlement of the Pamaunkes was in the nature of a triumphal procession. As the band approached a village they gave vent to their piercing war-whoop and entered it chanting their song of victory. In the midst of the procession walked the Chief with Smith’s weapons borne before him and the captive, guarded by eight picked warriors, following. A ceremonial dance took place before the party dispersed to their various lodgings for the night. The captive was well treated and had an excellent opportunity to study the natives and their habits, for Opechancanough carried his prize on a circuit of many villages before finally bringing him to the capital of Powhatan. Nor did the peril of his situation prevent our hero from exercising his usual keen powers of observation, for he has left us a minute account of his strange experiences during these weeks of captive wandering.

Every morning bread and venison were brought to the Englishman in sufficient quantity to have satisfied ten men. His captors never by any chance ate with him and, remembering the reluctance of Eastern peoples to partake of food with those whom they designed to harm, this fact excited his apprehensions. These Indians were not cannibals but he had not that consoling knowledge, and the insistent manner in which they pressed meat upon him raised a disagreeable suspicion that they were fattening him for the table. The thought of death—even with torture—he could endure calmly, but the idea of being eaten afterwards caused him to shudder with horror. We can not help thinking, however, that the sinewy captain might have visited his enemies with a posthumous revenge had they recklessly subjected him to such a fate and themselves to such grave hazard of acute indigestion.

But the captive’s concern for the settlement at Jamestown outweighed all other considerations. He surmised with reason, that having him in their power, the Indians would endeavor to overcome the colonists, whose natural incapacity to take care of themselves would be enhanced by the belief that their leader was dead. He was racking his brain to devise some means of communicating with them, when chance threw an opportunity to him. It seems that in the encounter preceding his surrender to Opechancanough Smith had seriously wounded one of the Indians. He was now called upon to cure his victim and replied that he might be able to do so if in possession of certain medicine which could be obtained from Jamestown. The Chief agreed that two messengers should bear a letter to the settlement, although he could not believe that a few lines scrawled upon paper would convey any meaning, much less elicit the desired response.

The messengers journeyed to the fort with all speed, and as they were not permitted to approach closely, left the note in a conspicuous place and there received the reply. Of course Smith took the opportunity to warn the settlers of the projected attack, and prayed them to be constantly on their guard. He also suggested that some show of strength, as a salvo from the big guns, might have a salutary effect upon the messengers. The latter, after they had received the medicine requested, and turned homewards, were treated to such a thunderous discharge of cannon and musketry that they ran for miles in terror of their lives and arrived at the village well-nigh scared out of their wits. Their account of this terrible experience decided the Indians not to attempt a descent upon Jamestown and their respect increased for a man who could convey his thoughts and wishes by means of such a mysterious medium as a letter appeared to them to be.

Although the Indians had Smith unarmed and completely in their power, they were not at all satisfied of his inability to harm them, and the question seems to have caused them considerable anxiety. The medicine men of the tribe undertook by incantations and other species of deviltry to ascertain whether the captive’s intentions towards them were good or otherwise. Smith was led in the morning to a large house in the centre of which a fire burned. Here he was left alone, and presently to him entered a hideous creature making unearthly noises in his throat to the accompaniment of a rattle, whilst he danced about the astonished Englishman in grotesque antics. This merry-andrew’s head was decorated with dangling snake-skins and his body painted in a variety of colors. After a while he was joined by three brother-priests who set up a discordant chorus of shrieks and yells, whirling and skipping about the house the while. They were painted half in black and half in red with great white rings round their eyes. Shortly these were joined by three more medicine men equally fantastic in appearance and actions. The ceremony was maintained by these seven throughout the day, much to the disgust of Smith, who soon found it tiresome and uninteresting and particularly so as it involved an absolute fast from dawn to sundown. In the evening women placed great mounds of food upon the mats of the house and invited Smith to eat, but the priests refrained from doing so until he had finished.

This performance was repeated on the two successive days, but we are not told what conclusion was reached by all the fuss.