Smith pays a visit to Opechancanough and declines to walk into a trap—“Drop your arms on the instant or your Chief’s life is forfeit”—Smith affords the Pamaunkes an object lesson and reads them a lecture—A messenger with sad news from Jamestown—Smith loses an old friend and a faithful ally—The Indians set a trap for the White Werowance and fall into it themselves—Smith loads his boats and returns to Jamestown—He finds the settlement in a condition of anarchy and threatened with starvation—And promptly proceeds to restore law and order—The colonists are given to understand that “he that will not work shall not eat.”

At Pamaunke, Opechancanough resorted to the same species of dalliance and subterfuge that Powhatan had practised so ineffectually. He claimed to have but a few bushels of corn to spare and set the price up so high that Smith laughed in his face. This fencing was carried on for several days, the real object being to permit the return of a number of warriors who happened to be absent from the village, likely enough being part of the reinforcements that Powhatan had summoned from his under-chiefs. When these had arrived, Opechancanough promised to have a more satisfactory quantity of supplies for the English captain on the following day. Smith, accompanied by sixteen men, accordingly went up to a large house at the time appointed, prepared to negotiate the exchange. Opechancanough received the party with the appearance of utmost cordiality and declared that he had at great pains collected a large quantity of provisions for his guests. In token of his friendship to Smith he had prepared for him a personal present contained in a heap of baskets stacked up outside the wigwam. The Chief invited his white brother to step out and inspect the gift. Smith went to the door and looked around. His quick eye, sharpened by suspicion, detected a score or more of arrow heads projecting from over the top of a fallen tree at about twenty yards distance. The bows were drawn ready to let fly at him as soon as he appeared in the open.

Smith turned to the treacherous chief and in no uncertain terms taxed him with his perfidy. He asked him if he were not ashamed to stoop to such dirty tricks, so ill-becoming a man and a brave. He professed himself willing to believe that Opechancanough possessed the courage that repute gave him credit for and proposed to afford him an opportunity to prove it. Let them two, suggested Smith, go upon a barren island in the middle of the river and settle their difference whilst yet their people had not come to blows. Each should take the goods about which they experienced so much difficulty in coming to an understanding and the victor would be entitled to the whole. In this way might they reach a conclusion like honorable gentlemen and avoid much needless trouble. This proposal was not at all to the liking of the Indian, who desired nothing so little as to harm his brother the Werowance of the English, whose groundless suspicions deeply pained him.

“Opechancanough!” replied Smith to these lying protestations, “it is not meet that we should waste time in idle badinage, for whether your words be spoken in jest or mere deceit they do not serve to further my purpose. Your plenty is well beknown to me and a reasonable part of it I must have and am willing to pay you therefor a reasonable compensation. When last I visited Pamaunke you promised to provide me with all the provisions I might ask when I should come again. Now I claim the fulfillment of that promise, nor will I abide any refusal though it be couched in honeyed words. Here are my wares. Take you your choice of them. The rest I will barter with your people on fair terms.”

Smith had hardly completed this politic and not unreasonable speech, when Doctor Russell, who had been left with the boats, hastily entered the house, and going to Smith’s side warned him that the place was surrounded by hundreds of armed warriors, who were evidently only awaiting a signal to make an attack. Smith looked at Opechancanough who was evidently disconcerted by Russell’s appearance and the whispered conference that followed. There was no doubt whatever in the Captain’s mind about the Indian chieftain’s evil intentions. To parley farther would be worse than useless. To sally forth in the face of the awaiting bowmen would surely be to lose some of his men. Decisive action was necessary and that without an instant’s delay. Smith’s mind was quickly made up and his design executed with equal celerity.

On one side of the wigwam were grouped the Englishmen. On the other Opechancanough stood in the midst of forty of his tallest warriors, himself towering above them all. Whilst Smith had carried on his hurried conversation with the doctor, the Pamaunke engaged in excited debate with his braves. Smith watched his formidable adversary like a hawk and at a favorable opportunity bounded into the midst of the surrounding warriors and, before a hand could be raised, had the Chief fast by the scalp-lock and a pistol presented at his breast. Not an Indian dared interfere as Smith dragged his captive to the other side of the house whilst he cried to Percy and West to guard the doors.

“Drop your arms on the instant or your Chief’s life is forfeit!” cried Smith to the amazed warriors. They obeyed with little hesitation and the Englishmen gathered up their weapons.

Still with his fingers entwined in Opechancanough’s hair, Captain Smith drew him out of the house and into the presence of the warriors waiting in ambush. Some of his men carried out the seized weapons and threw them in a heap before the captain and his captive, whilst the disarmed braves were made to form a group behind them. This humiliating spectacle had an instantaneous effect upon the spectators. Overcome with shame and apprehension they bowed their heads in despair and allowed their weapons to drop from their hands.

“Pamaunkes!” said Smith, addressing them in stern tones. “You have gone about to compass my death. What have I done that you should meet my honorable offices with such foul treachery? I promised you my friendship as your Chief promised his to me. In what manner hath he kept that promise? But, despite your presumption, I am willing to overlook that which is passed and take you again into my favor. Now, mark me well! for I speak you in all earnestness! If you repeat your treacheries or shoot but one arrow to the hurt of any of my people, then will I surely visit the Pamaunkes with a bitter vengeance. I am not now powerless, half drowned and frozen, as when you captured me. Yet for your good usage and sparing of me then, am I kindly disposed towards you. In all friendliness I came to barter with you and you undertook to freight my ship. That shall you do, receiving therefor a proper recompense.”

The Indians expressed their willingness to abide by these conditions and declared that every soul in the band should be immediately engaged in the task of loading the vessel, leaving the matter of payment to be decided by the English Werowance later.

“So be it!” said Smith. “Your Chief and brethren are free. They may take their weapons and go. But beware! For if again you play me false I shall show no such mercy upon you.”

The band now set to work to load the barges with all possible speed, for, like the men of Werowocomico after trying conclusions with our Captain, they were only too anxious to have the English begone. They were just at the point of departure when there arrived a tattered and footsore white man, pinched with hunger and cold. He had reached the extremity of his endurance when he staggered into the camp of his people at Pamaunke. This brave fellow was Master Richard Wyffin, one of the gentlemen adventurers who had arrived with Captain Nelson in the Phoenix. After being fed and warmed, he told his story to Smith. It appeared that some two weeks previous Scrivener, the acting President, together with Captain Waldo and Anthony Gosnold, newly appointed members of the Council, and eight men, had left the settlement on a visit to Hog Island, where the colonists kept some swine that had been imported from the West Indies. A sudden storm overtook the party and capsized their boat. All were drowned and their bodies some days later were recovered by Indians. Wyffin, at the grave hazard of his life, had set out alone to carry the sad tidings to the President. After wandering out of his way for several days, the messenger reached Werowocomico, where he expected to find Smith. Here he would have fallen a prey to the vengeance of Powhatan’s warriors had not Pocahontas hidden him and, when opportunity served, set him upon the road to Pamaunke. Smith was much affected by the news of the death of Scrivener, for whom he had a strong regard and whose value to the colony he fully appreciated.

During the loading of the barges Smith had had a heart to heart talk with Opechancanough. That chief, now thoroughly subdued in spirit and persuaded that frankness might better serve his interests than deception, gave the Englishman a fairly truthful account of the actual state of affairs. From this and his own observation, Smith reached the conclusion that the stores of Pamaunke could not well stand the strain of freighting both his barges. He decided, therefore, to be satisfied with one barge load, determining to return to Werowocomico for the second. This he felt quite justified in doing, for it was well known to him that Powhatan’s garners were always overflowing, for the great Werowance exacted a heavy tribute from the minor chiefs of the tribe. Moreover, Smith was willing to punish his adoptive father as the author of all the trouble that had befallen the expedition. Accordingly, after leaving Pamaunke, the boats turned their prows upstream and started back to Werowocomico.

Towards evening the expedition, turning a bend in the river, came suddenly upon a place where a number of people were assembled on the bank, evidently awaiting their coming. They were men and women, quite unarmed, and each bearing a basket of corn. Smith chuckled when he beheld the palpable trap.

“Surely they take us for barn-yard fowls and think that we will run to a handful of grain held out in a sieve. The grain we will take but in no such simple fashion.”

He had no doubt that a hundred or more stout bowmen lay hidden behind the innocent looking crowd which greeted him with eager offers to trade. Dissembling his suspicions, Smith declared that the day was too far spent for trading. He would lie-to for the night, he said, and in the morning would come ashore unarmed as they demanded.

When darkness had set in Smith picked twenty-five men and placed them under the commands of Percy and West. These officers were directed to take the force in one of the barges several miles farther up the river and there to land twenty of them. The remaining five were to bring back the boat that its absence might not excite the suspicions of the savages on the morrow. Percy and West were then to proceed through the forest with their men and dispose them before daylight in the rear of the Indian ambuscade. It was quite dark when the barge, with muffled oars, pulled upstream, but some hours later a clear moon arose, enabling the party to carry out its instructions to the letter.

The next morning, the unarmed Indians were on the bank as before with their baskets of corn, and Smith went ashore as he had promised with a squad of men, all of whom had left their weapons in the pinnace. No sooner had they set foot on land than the would-be traders scattered and fled into the surrounding forest, leaving their baskets upon the ground. At the same instant a band of warriors rose from the cover in which they had lain hidden and drew their bows upon the English.

“Stay your hands, Powhatans, and look to your backs!” cried Smith with extended forefinger.

The warriors glanced behind them to see Percy’s men drawn up with levelled muskets. Uttering a howl of dismay, they plunged into the thicket and disappeared. The baskets of corn were carried aboard the barges and the party continued its journey.

They found Werowocomico completely deserted. Powhatan had fled, taking his renegade Dutchmen and emptying his stores. However, thanks to the attempted ambuscade, Smith had now nearly as great a quantity of provisions as his boats could carry and he returned to the fort. The expedition had been absent six weeks. In that time its members had been exposed to much hardship and many dangers of which we have made no mention. They had relieved the settlement, during a period of great stringency, of the keep of forty-six men and now they returned with five hundred bushels of corn and two hundred pounds of meat. Furthermore, not a man was missing from the party. This was, indeed, an achievement to be proud of, but it was not of the kind to impress the proprietors at home. Had Smith come back with empty boats and the loss of some lives, so that he had learned some fanciful rumor of a gold mine in a mythical country, they would have been better pleased with him.

The President found the colony in a bad way. The food supply was almost exhausted and the settlers were within sight of starvation. The councilmen, who should never have all left Jamestown at the same time, had been drowned together. In the absence of all authority, discipline naturally disappeared and disaffection spread. This as we shall see later had developed into treason and conspiracy before the President’s arrival. There had been some attempted desertions and doubtless would have been more but for the contemplation of the fate of Scrivener and his companions. Work of all descriptions had entirely ceased and the men spent their days in loafing and quarrelling.

Smith took the situation in hand with his usual decision and firmness. He determined to check the demoralization at any cost but wisely decided to employ genial measures where they would avail. Calling the settlers together, he gave them a clear understanding of his attitude at the outset. Standing on the steps of the Council House, he addressed them in the following words, his tone and gesture carrying conviction to his hearers.

“Countrymen! The long experience of our late miseries should be sufficient to persuade everyone to correct his errors and determine to play the man. Think not, any of you, that my pains, nor the adventurers’ purse, will maintain you in idleness and sloth. I speak not thus to you all, for well I know that divers of you deserve both honor and reward, but the greater part must be more industrious or starve. It hath heretofore been the policy of the Council to treat alike the diligent and the idle, so that a man might work not at all yet was he assured of warm lodging and a full belly—at least as much of these comforts as was enjoyed by them that toiled for the betterment of the colony. Such a condition will not I maintain. You see that power now resteth wholly in myself. You must obey this now for a law, that he that will not work—except by sickness he is disabled—shall not eat. The labors of thirty or forty industrious men shall not be consumed to maintain a hundred and fifty idle loiterers. That there is disaffection among you I know. I hope that it will cease forthwith, but if not, I warn you that I shall hesitate not to take the life of any man who seeks to sow the seeds of treason in this His Majesty’s colony of Virginia. I would wish you, therefore, without contempt of my authority, to study to observe the orders that I here set down, for there are now no more Councillors to protect you and to curb my endeavors. He that offendeth, therefore, shall most assuredly meet due punishment.”