The sun was just rising, on a frosty morning in February, when the sentinels on guard at Jamestown challenged a company of Indians who were seen defiling through the woods; and were answered by the shout "wingapoh," on their part, and "friends" in a voice they knew. These were the Indians sent by Powhatan to conduct Captain Smith to Jamestown. Doubtless his heart swelled with grateful emotion at the sight of the humble huts of the little town which meant home to him. He was joyfully welcomed[38] back after his seven weeks' absence by all except Archer and two or three confederates. Archer, who had been illegally admitted into the Council, had now the audacity to indict Smith for the death of Robinson and Emry, who were slain by the Indians on the Chickahominy, claiming that he had led them into the snare which caused their death, and should be executed, according to Levitical law.

The little town proved no city of refuge to the weary captain. True, he had friends, but his enemies were stronger than his friends. The turbulent, selfish, and ignoble were often in the majority in the colony, and nothing short of the interposition of Providence could have prevented their being in the ascendant as well. The miracle of its enduring life lies in the fact that a mere handful of men were enabled, through superhuman courage and patience, to overcome obstacles, the most tremendous that ever confronted a company of adventurers.

In vain Captain Smith explained that Robinson and Emry had fallen victims to their own imprudence, and neglect of his express orders. In vain was he sustained by George Percy, Robert Hunt, and other true men. His story was not believed by the men who had been his enemies from the hour he left the shores of England; and now, on the day of his return, he was tried and sentenced to be hanged the next day.

But the Divine Power that had guided him through so many difficulties did not forsake him now in his extremity. Early in the night, as he lay closely guarded, he heard shouts and signals all along the line of sentinels. They had descried, in the moonlight, a ghostly sail on the river, and Newport, the long overdue Newport, was coming in with the tide.

Probably Newport's first inquiry was for Wingfield, his second for John Smith. Learning of their imprisonment, he indignantly released them both,—Smith from the hands of the guard, and Wingfield from the pinnace, where he was still in duress.

Smith now bethought himself of his promise to send guns and a grindstone to Powhatan. His guides, with Powhatan's trusty servant, Rawhunt, were still in the fort, without doubt amazed at the turn things had taken. Smith now appeared, and conducting them to a spot where two demi-culverins and a millstone were lying, gave them permission to carry them home to their king. Of course such a formidable present could not be borne on the men's shoulders. To give them an idea of the power of the guns, a cannon was charged with stones and fired at the boughs of a tree. As the icicle-laden branches came crashing down, the "savages took to their heels," but presently returning, the captain loaded them with gifts for Powhatan, his wives and children, and sent them on their way. Doubtless Pocahontas had not forgotten to entrust to Rawhunt the two little baskets for white beads to make her a chain.

Thoughtful men among the first settlers must have regarded Newport's addition to their number with dismay. There were a few "labourers," a great many "gentlemen." A jeweller, a perfumer, two refiners, two goldsmiths, and a pipe-maker were sent out to help subdue the wilderness! There was not one soldier to aid in protecting the colony against an army of savages. But there were six tailors! These professors of the fine arts were evidently intended for the service of the "gentlemen."

Newport had brought stirring news, and we can imagine the eagerness with which the homesick exiles listened. He had left England with two vessels, but the Phoenix, well equipped with men and supplies, had been separated from his ship in a storm, and he had reason to fear she was lost. He could report the disappointment of the London Company at the failure of the gold test, and their discontent that no immediate return of value seemed likely to reward and reimburse them for all they had adventured. Surely Newport had tarried in Virginia long enough to bring home some treasure, some news of Raleigh's lost colony, or some hope of finding the South Sea! His Majesty's subjects in the rich new land had evidently been remiss. Of course, letters were received by Percy, Master Hunt, and the "better class." Percy learned that his noble brother, the Duke of Northumberland, was still with Sir Walter Raleigh, confined in the Tower, and that London's learned and scientific men flocked thither to be entertained by them. Will Shakespeare had written a new play, "King Lear," and although the distinguished prisoners were not allowed to join the ardent crowds at the Globe and Blackfriars, they could read and enjoy the great master as well perhaps in their comfortable apartments in the Tower, as in the "dingy pit under the smoking flambeaux." John Smith was especially interested, as his own "fatal tragedies," he once complained, "had been acted on the stage."

But the cream of Newport's news was the London gossip. What story could he tell of the court? Was peace concluded with Spain? Was the Guy Fawkes conspiracy forgotten? How did the new King promise, and what nobleman was now in power? The answer to the latter was interesting. A young Scotchman had broken one of his legs at a tilting in the King's presence, and had, with this unfair starting, won more than halfway in the race to royal favour. In one hour he had found all that is meant by the magic word "favourite." He was poor, even beyond the limits of Scotch poverty, but he was straight-limbed, well-favoured, strong-shouldered, and smooth-faced, "with some sort of cunning and show of modesty." The King adored him, loaded him with jewels and fair raiment, and conferred upon him the honour of knighthood. People predicted (and truly) that Sir Robert Carr would rise to be a peer of the realm. The highest dignitaries, Cecil, Suffolk, and all, vied with each other which should most engage his favour. When Lady Raleigh on her knees begged her king not to take her captive husband's estate from her children, he replied, "I maun have the land! I maun have it for Carr!"

As to the King, he was continuing to lead his life of indolence and ease, hunting much of the time, and lying in bed the greater part of the day when he had no amusement on hand. His subjects could but rarely gain access to him. They lay in wait for him whenever he stirred abroad, and thrust their "sifflications" into his unwilling hands, to be stuffed unread into convenient pockets. He went so far as to say he would rather return to Scotland than be chained to the Council table. He dressed in fantastic colours and wore a horn instead of a sword at his side. His queen, however, covered her plain person with jewels and behaved with no more personal dignity than her husband. They were both extravagant beyond precedent, squandering great sums upon their favourites and their own pleasures, and always in want of money. Of course the king was cordially hated by all except his sycophants and men like himself. His perpetual refrain was, "I am the King! My subjects must honour and fear me." "Your Queen Elizabeth," said Lord Howard, writing to Harrington, "did talk of her subjects' love and affection, and in good truth she aimed well: our King talketh of his subjects' fear and subjection, and herein I think he doth well too—as long as it holdeth good"—all of which seemed a fantastic fairy tale to his Majesty's starving exiles in Virginia. Some of them, George Percy for example, felt the pressure of "sorrow's crown of sorrow, remembering happier things," but there were others, always present in the colony, and little better than cutthroats, who exulted in the royal example, and who revelled in the license and freedom of the remote province, safe from swift chastisement at the strong hands of the English law. For these, strong hands, cruel hands, were sent out later. At present, however, the coming of Captain Newport was the occasion of feasting, trading with the sailors, and a general relaxation from all labour.

Powhatan soon heard of Newport's arrival, and sent a present, with an invitation to Werowocomoco. Newport returned his courtesy with presents, and began to prepare the pinnace to visit him.

He was accompanied by Captain Smith and Master Scrivener, "a very wise, understanding gentleman, newly arrived and admitted to the Counsell," and thirty or forty chosen men for their guard. But when they reached the point on York River nearest the residence of Powhatan, a wholesome fear of that potentate seized Newport. Would the savage king keep faith? How about ambuscades, arrows, and tomahawks? What was the meaning of the traplike contrivances over the small streams that must be crossed before audience could be had of the monarch? Newport shook his head, and finally Smith, who feared nothing, dead or living, volunteered, with twenty men, to go ahead and "encounter the worst that can happen." To this Newport gladly consented, and while he remained beyond range of arrow-shot in the pinnace with half the escort, Smith set out with his "twenty shot, armed in Jacks"—i.e. quilted jackets then in use which afforded partial protection against Indian arrows. A novel way this, to accept a house-party invitation to a palace!

Powhatan received Smith with a great show of rejoicing and state. He had much to say to his former captive. "Where is your father [Newport], and where are the guns and grindstone you promised?" Satisfactory answers being ready for these questions, he proceeded to promise Smith corn, wives, and land, provided the twenty men then present would lay their arms at his feet, as did his subjects. "I told him," said the Captain, "that was a ceremonie our enemies desired, but never our friends," so that request, which was to be made perpetually afterwards, was waived for the present.

Powhatan then called his guest's attention to certain embellishments he had made in his grounds since Smith's last visit. A long line had been stretched between two trees, and upon it, waving in the crisp air, were the bloody scalps of an entire tribe—the people of Piankatank, his nearest neighbours and subjects. How they had displeased their emperor does not appear. Numbers of their women were at work in the royal kitchen and gardens, and hapless little children, destined to lives of slavery, were scattered about among them. Great ostentation was made of these to Smith, and afterwards to Captain Newport.

The emperor then walked about his ground with Captain Smith, and down to a bend in the river where lay his fleet of canoes—a fleet in which the savage king felt as much pride as did our President in a recent review of our magnificent North Atlantic squadron.

But while indulging in this affable and amiable conversation, a fanfare of trumpets arrested Powhatan's attention, and he saw in the distance Newport—who seems to have found means to strengthen his nerves—with his escort, making their way inland; whereupon Powhatan hastily retreated to prepare the reception ceremonies.

These repeated, in every particular, the tableau we have already described: the pose on the dais, the embroidered pillow, the robes and chains, the two seats of honour for the two beauties, the wives and their attendants all in full dress, beads, pearls, paint, and girdles—and without doubt Pocahontas, Matichanna, and Cleopatre. His "chiefest men" also sat in the arbour-house, and forty platters of bread, or more, were in two rows before the door, while five hundred people stood without as a guard. Beyond, the mute but eloquent scalps waved ominously in the air as it was rent by a mighty shout of welcome.

Powhatan feasted his guests at an abundant dinner of venison, wild fowl, dried persimmons, nuts, and bread. Mats were laid in order and each guest sat upon his own small square mat of woven grasses. Indian civilization had not yet demanded a table. Women, before the feast, handed wooden finger-bowls and feather napkins. Each guest had his portion in a wooden platter, gravely laying the platter beside him when empty. From gourds or wooden bowls they drank the not unpleasant liquid prepared with crushed walnut-meats and water. There were no knives or forks, but for that matter neither were there forks in Queen Elizabeth's time. She, and all her court, used nature's first implement, and found it perfectly convenient and satisfactory. The dinner knife of the Indian was simply a sharpened reed. Before eating, each Indian solemnly uttered a few words and cast a morsel of food into the fire. After the meal finger-bowls were again offered with the bunch of feathers. Not for one moment did the guests abate their vigilance! Matches were kept burning to touch off the powder in their pieces at a moment's notice. Powhatan once argued that the arms must always be left behind, because these "smoking[39] things made his women sick!"

Newport had brought his host a suit of crimson cloth, a white greyhound, and a hat. He now presented him with a boy named Thomas Savage, whom Newport called his son, for whom Powhatan gave "Namontacke his trustie servant and one of a shrewd and subtill capacitie." Purchas remarks in a marginal note, "The exchange of a Christian for a Savage,"—refraining from the suggestive pun (a favourite species of English wit at the time) as being beneath his dignity. The gift, however, was really a loan, and not understood to mean permanent possession.

Namontack, the savage of a shrewd and subtle capacity, was intended by Powhatan to accompany Newport to England, and bring reliable information thence of the strength of the country. The poor little Christian boy was to live in constant companionship with these "devils" that he might learn their language and serve the colony as interpreter.

Captain Smith, after three or four days spent in feasting and dancing, and a little traffic in toys, at last proposed trade on a larger basis. But Powhatan demurred. "It is not agreeable to my greatness," he said to Newport, "to traffic for trifles in this peddling manner. You, too, I esteem a great werowance.[40] Therefore lay me down all your commodities together. What I like I will take, and in recompense give you what I think their fitting value."

Captain Smith, who was acting as interpreter between the traders, at once detected Powhatan's cunning, and implored Newport to be chary of his goods. But Newport, wishing to express a lordly indifference to commercial interests, offered his entire outfit of mirrors, copper, bells, hatchets, cloth, and received in return something less than four bushels of corn! Newport was astounded. He had expected to freight his pinnace! He lost his temper and quarrelled with Captain Smith, in consequence probably of the reproaches of the latter. But the captain contrived to display some blue beads, simply as objects of interest, and not for barter, seeing "they could be worn only by royalty." Powhatan fell neatly into the trap, and bought them for two or three hundred bushels of corn! Blue beads rose in value. Opechancanough was allowed to buy a few, but "none durst weare any of them but their greate kings, their wives and children."

The outwitted Newport retired in chagrin to his pinnace. Before he sailed, Powhatan sent a feast of bread and venison, and Nantauquas to beg Captain Smith to visit him again, but to leave his sword and pistol behind. "But these," said Smith, significantly, "are requests made by our enemies, never by our friends."

The next morning there was a parting interview, with promises from Powhatan to help avenge Newport's son (slain as reported by Smith) by an invasion of the Monacans. After a good deal of insincere palaver, the English proceeded on their homeward way, first making a short visit to the arch-enemy, Opechancanough, at his urgent solicitation.

Powhatan sent thither for the party to return to him, but upon receiving their respectful regrets, he sent again, this time by little Pocahontas. With her, they returned for another short visit to Werowocomoco: more courtesies, more protestations of friendship, and the loan of another Indian (probably Machumps) with instructions to report the strength and wealth of the white man's country.

And now a new disaster awaited our unhappy colonists. I like the temperate, homely words of the old writers,—Anas Todkill, William Phetiplace, and others—and I shall again borrow them. "Wee returned to the Fort where this new supply being lodged with the rest, accidentally fired the quarters; and so the Towne, which being but thatched with Reeds, the fire was so fierce as it burnt our Pallizadoes, though ten or twelve yards distant, with all our Arms, Bedding, Apparell, and much private provision. Good Master Hunt, our Preacher, lost all his Librarie, and all that hee had (but the clothes on his backe), yet none ever saw him repine at his losse. Upon any alarme he would be as readie for defence as any; and till he could speake he never ceased to his utmost to animate us constantly to persist: whose soule questionlesse is with God."

Newport remained fourteen weeks at Jamestown. He should have left in fourteen days. Thus his crew again consumed supplies which had been provided for the colony. But a "small stream of water issuing from a bank near Jamestown was found to deposit in its channel a glittering sediment which resembled golden ore. The depositation of this yellow stuff was supposed to indicate the presence of a gold mine," and presto! all the little world except Captain Smith "went crazy!" The axe was left in the tree, the spade in the corn-hill. There was no more thought of tilling or planting or building. "There was no talke, no hope, no worke, but digge Gold, wash Gold, refine Gold, load Gold; such a bruit of Gold as one mad fellow desired to bee buried in the sand least they should by their Art make Gold of his bones. Little neede there was and lesse reason the shippe should staye, their wages run on, our victuall consumed,"[41] &c. Purchas, whose quaint marginal notes bring back our "Pilgrim's Progress" days (he antedated Bunyan, however), says in the note opposite this page, "Certaine shining yellow sand (I saw it!) with great promises of gold, like the promises yeelding sandy performances."

Captain Smith set his face like a flint against this gold-fever, which seemed likely to rival Frobisher's experiments and failures in 1577, and declared he was not enamoured of the golden promise, nor could he bear to "see necessary business neglected to fraught such a drunken ship with so much gilded dirt." "Till then," continue our historians (Anas Todkill et al.), "we never accounted Captaine Newport a refiner, who being fit to set saile for England, and we not having any use for Parliaments, Playes, Petitions, Admirals, Recorders, Interpreters, Chronologers, Courts of Plea, nor Justices of Peace, sent Master Wingfield and Captaine Archer with him for England, to seeke some place of better imployment."

Newport carried with him twenty turkeys, a present from Powhatan, who received in return twenty swords, the beginning of his acquisition of the arms he so coveted. Newport could hardly have done a more unwise thing. His foolish prodigality prevented all profitable traffic with the Indians thereafter, and he put into their hands the weapons destined to reach the hearts of his own countrymen.