Captain John Smith

by C. H. Forbes-Lindsay

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.