After a weary circuit of the Indian villages Smith is brought to Werowocomico—He is received by Powhatan in the “King’s House”—The chiefs in council decide to put him to death—He is bound and laid out, preparatory to being killed—Pocahontas intervenes at the critical moment—Powhatan’s dilemma and Opechancanough’s determination—“The Council has decreed the death of the paleface”—“I, Pocahontas, daughter of our King, claim this man for my brother”—The Indian maiden prevails—Smith is reprieved and formally adopted into the tribe—They wish him to remain with them and lead them against his own people.

One morning, shortly after the episode of the medicine men, Captain Smith learned, to his great relief, that commands had been received for his removal at once to the capital. He had no idea what, if any fate had been determined upon for him, but he was heartily tired of the weary wanderings and suspense of the past weeks and ready to face the worst rather than prolong the uncertainty. Werowocomico, the principal seat of the “Emperor” Powhatan, was short of a day’s journey distant, and Opechancanough, with his illustrious prisoner, reached the town as the early winter night was setting in. The capital of the Werowance consisted of about thirty large wigwams, or “houses,” as the earlier writers called them, and a number of smaller ones. These for the nonce were reinforced by the tepees, or tents, of the many Indians who had come in from distant villages for the occasion which was no ordinary one. The large wigwams were made in the form of the rounded tops of the wagons called “prairie schooners,” which in the days before railroads were used upon the continent of North America for long-distance travel. These wagon tops were sometimes taken off and placed upon the ground to serve as tents, when the occupants would be lying in a contrivance exactly like the ancient wigwam in shape. The latter was commonly big enough to contain a whole family and sometimes harbored an entire band of fifty or sixty natives. In that case it had two rows of apartments running along the sides and a common hall in the middle. The structure was composed of a framework of boughs covered with the bark of trees or with skins—sometimes a combination of both.

Smith’s captors approached the capital in triumphal fashion, chanting their song of victory and flourishing their weapons in exultant pride. The town was prepared to give them the reception usually accorded to victorious warriors returning from battle. Great fires burned at frequent points illuming the scene with a garish light in which the bedaubed and bedizened savages looked doubly hideous. Chiefs and people were attired in all their fantastic finery and even the children made some show of tawdry ornament. The women had prepared food with even more than ordinary profusion and had laid the mats in anticipation of the prospective feasting. A double line of fully armed and foully painted warriors—“grim courtiers,” Smith calls them—formed an avenue to the “King’s house” along which the captive passed into the presence of the great Werowance, whilst the spectators “stood wondering at him as he had been a monster.”

At the farther end of the wigwam, upon a platform, before which a large fire blazed, reclined the aged but still vigorous chieftain, upon a heap of furs. On either side of him stood the principal chiefs and medicine men of the tribe, whilst the women of his family grouped themselves behind. Two dense walls of warriors lined along the sides of the wigwam leaving a space in the centre which was covered by a mat. Upon this Smith took his stand and calmly surveyed the scene which was not without an element of rude beauty. A loud shout had greeted his entrance. In the profound silence that followed, two women—“the Queen of Appamatuck and another”—came forward with food which they placed before him and signed to him to eat. Our hero’s appetite and his curiosity never failed him under any circumstances. He had a habit of living in the present moment and not concerning himself unduly about the uncertain future. So, in this crisis, when the ordinary man would have been too much preoccupied with the thought of his fate to attend to the needs of his stomach, Smith addressed himself in leisurely fashion to the pile of food and at the same time studied the details of his surroundings with a retentive eye. Meanwhile, the savages stood silent and stock still as statues until he had finished.

When at length our hero rose refreshed and ready to face his fate, Powhatan also stood up and beckoned to him to approach the royal dais. Powhatan was arrayed in his state robe of raccoon skins. A band of pearls encircled his brow and a tuft of eagle’s feathers surmounted his head. Smith was impressed by the dignity and forcefulness of the old chief who addressed him in a deep bass voice.

“The paleface has abused the hospitality of Powhatan and requited his kindness with treachery,” said the chieftain in slow and solemn tones. “The paleface and his brethren came to Powhatan’s country when the summer was young and begged for food and land that they might live. My people would have slain them but I commanded that grain be given to the palefaces and that they be allowed to live in peace in the village which they had made. Was this not enough? Did not Powhatan thus prove his friendship and good will to the strangers in his land?”

We know that all this was a mixture of falsehood and sophistry. As such Smith recognized it, of course, but, as he did not wish to arouse the chief’s anger by contradicting him, he decided to keep silence and an immovable countenance. After a pause, during which he endeavored without success to read the effect of his words in the prisoner’s face, Powhatan continued:

“Powhatan’s people have given the palefaces abundance of food—venison and fowls and corn. They have furnished them with warm furs. They have shown them the springs of the forest. They have taught them to trap the beasts and to net the fish. And the palefaces, scorning the kindness of Powhatan and his people, turn their fire-machines upon them and slay them. You—their werowance—they send to spy out the land of Powhatan so that they may make war upon his villages in the night time. Now my people cry for your blood. What shall I say to them? How shall I again deny my warriors whose brothers you yourself have slain?”

“The Powhatan mistakes the purpose of myself and my people,” replied Smith. “It is our wish and intent to treat our red brothers with justice and friendliness. If we have killed some it hath been in defence of our own lives. Our fire-machines have spoken only when the bow was drawn against us. It is not in our minds to make war upon the great Powhatan nor yet to rob him of his lands. Whatsoever we ask at his hands we are ready to pay for. If the great Werowance allows the clamor of his warriors for my life to override his own good judgment, so be it. But I would warn Powhatan and his chiefs that my death will be the signal for relentless war against their people, for I am the subject of a mighty king whose rule extends over lands many times greater than those of Powhatan, whose soldiers are as numerous as the stars in the heavens and whose ships sail the seas in every direction. He will surely avenge my death with a bitter vengeance.”

Smith had no idea of committing himself to an argument and wisely contented himself with a brief statement of the facts, adding a threat that he hoped might give the savages pause. It was clear from Powhatan’s remarks that he was determined to place the prisoner in the wrong, and contradiction could have no good effect. Finding that his captive had nothing more to say, the Werowance sent him to a nearby wigwam with instructions that he should be made comfortable and allowed to rest. Meanwhile, the chiefs went into council over his fate.

Smith’s words had made a strong impression upon Powhatan, who was the most sagacious Indian of his tribe. He was altogether averse to putting the prisoner to death because he was forced in his mind to acknowledge the white men as superior beings with whom it would be dangerous to evoke a war. Doubtless they would soon send another chief to replace Smith and more would be gained by holding him for ransom than by killing him. But Powhatan’s wise conclusions were not shared by the other members of the council. With hardly an exception they were in favor of Smith’s death by the usual torturous methods. One of the chiefs was a brother of the man who had died as the result of a pistol wound inflicted by Smith in the skirmish preceding his capture. He was implacable in the demand for the usual satisfaction of a life for a life, and was warmly supported by Opechancanough who, to the day of his death at their hands, maintained an unappeasable hatred for the whole race of white men. Now Opechancanough was, after the great Werowance, the most influential chief in the tribe, and rather than incur his displeasure and that of the others, Powhatan yielded against his better judgment. He did this, however, only after having expressed his opinion to the contrary, and the real respect which he felt for Smith led him to stipulate that the captive should not be put to the torture but should be executed by the more humane and speedy means employed by the savages with members of their own tribe.

This conclusion of the council having been reached, Smith was brought again into the king’s house and informed of it. He bowed with courage and dignity to the decision which he felt that it would be futile to protest against and calmly held out his arms to the warriors who came forward to bind him. Whilst these tightly bound his hands to his sides and tied his feet together, others rolled into the centre of the wigwam a large stone. When this had been placed, the prisoner was required to kneel and lay his head upon it. This he did with the serene self-possession that had not been shaken in the least during this trying ordeal. At the same time he silently commended his spirit to his Maker, believing that the next moment would be his last on earth. The executioners stood, one on either side, their clubs poised ready for the signal to dash out his brains.

Powhatan was in the act of raising his hand in the fatal gesture that would have stamped our hero’s doom, when a young girl, as graceful as a doe and not less agile, burst through the throng that surrounded the Werowance and sprang to the prisoner’s side. Waving back the executioners with the haughty dignity derived from a long line of noble ancestors, she drew her slim and supple figure to its full height and faced the group of chieftains with head erect and flashing eyes.

“Pardon, Powhatan! Pardon, my father!” she cried in a rich voice quivering with emotion. “Pocahontas craves the life of the captive, and claims the right to adopt him as a brother according to the immemorial custom of our tribe.”

Powhatan was in a quandary. Pocahontas was his favorite daughter, his pet, and the comfort of his old age. He had never denied her anything, nor ever thought to do so. He had a strong inclination to grant her request, but as he looked round the circle of angry faces and heard the subdued mutterings of his chiefs he hesitated to incur their discontent.

“The Council has decreed the death of the paleface. It can not be, my daughter,” he said. But there was an unusual trace of indecision in his voice.

“It must be, my father!” cried the girl, with spirit. “Is a princess, and your child, to be denied the right that every woman of our tribe enjoys? Any woman of the Powhatans may redeem a condemned prisoner by adopting him, and I—I, Pocahontas, daughter of our king, claim this man for my brother.”

Powhatan was deeply moved by the dignified and earnest plea of the girl and was about to accede to it when Opechancanough leaned forward and whispered in his ear. The words of the Chief of the Pamaunkes, whatever they were, seemed to be decisive, for Powhatan, with a gesture of mingled annoyance and regret, signed to the executioners to perform their task. The eyes of Pocahontas had been anxiously fixed upon her father during this pause in the proceedings and, as she saw his sign of submission to the argument of the Pamaunke, she threw herself upon the head of Smith and entwined her arms about his neck.

She had nothing further to say, realizing that words would have no effect, but, with the quick wit of a woman, she had advanced an argument which was unanswerable. The executioners dropped their clubs and looked perplexedly towards the Werowance. The assembled warriors gazed expectantly in the same direction. The affair had reached an impasse. None there dared lay a hand on the girl save the Powhatan, and he had no thought of doing so. He gazed at her with proud satisfaction for a few moments, whilst a presentiment took possession of his mind that this slip of a girl had unwittingly saved her tribe from a world of possible troubles.

“Let be!” he said with an air of weariness. “The paleface shall be adopted into the tribe to make hatchets for me and beads for his little sister.”

With that Smith was unbound and taken to a wigwam where they brought him food and left him to wonder at the marvellous workings of Providence and pass a peaceful night.

The next morning our hero was led to one of the larger houses which was divided in the middle by a partition. Smith was instructed to seat himself and to await events. Presently, from the other side of the screen came the most hideous howls and shrieks he had ever heard, but Smith had got beyond the point of being disturbed by anything that might occur. For half an hour or more the strange sounds continued, when Powhatan and his chiefs entered, accompanied by Smith’s old friends the noisy medicine men. He was informed that the ceremony which had just taken place was that of his adoption into the tribe and Powhatan formally addressed him as “son.” From this time Smith was treated with the utmost consideration and those who had been the most eager for his death, with the exception of the implacable Opechancanough who departed to his village in high dudgeon, now vied with each other in efforts to secure his good-will. Powhatan and Smith held many conferences together in which each learned a great deal from the other and grew to regard his erstwhile enemy with feelings of respect and friendship.

The savages had entertained the hope that after the adoption Smith would remain with them and they even thought to induce him to lead them against Jamestown. It is needless to say that he firmly declined to do either. Powhatan being at length convinced of Smith’s friendly intentions agrees to his return but, in satisfaction of his own desire as well as to appease the disappointment of his people, he exacts a ransom to consist of two of the largest guns in the fort and the biggest grindstone.