This episode made it evident that Powhatan had determined upon desperate measures, and it also satisfied Smith that he could no longer look for any immunity on account of his membership in the tribe. The next morning Powhatan, his plot having failed, returned to the town and sent a messenger to Smith with a strip of wampum in token of peace. He was exceedingly sorry that some of his people had rashly taken advantage of his temporary absence on the business of the captain’s supplies to attack their brother chief. The culprits, fearing his wrath, had taken to the woods, but on their return they should be severely punished. Tomorrow Powhatan would load the ship of the English Werowance with corn and he hoped that they would part good friends. To all of this Smith contented himself by replying that he should be ready to receive the corn when it arrived and to pay a fair price for it in any commodity but weapons.
Smith thought it hardly possible that Powhatan would venture another attack now that the pinnace with reinforcements was close at hand, and he might have been taken by surprise but for a timely warning. As he lay in his wigwam late that night, thinking over the many weighty affairs depending upon his disposition, he heard his name called softly as out of the ground. At length he realized that some one was whispering under the edge of the wigwam. Going out cautiously, he found Pocahontas awaiting him. She had come at the risk of her life to warn him, for she declared that if her father learned that she had betrayed his secret, he would kill her with his own hand. In agitated whispers, broken by her tears, she informed her adopted brother that it had been arranged to delay the loading on the following day, so that Smith would be unexpectedly compelled to spend another night on shore. That after dark, a feast would be borne to him by eight men who would wait upon him and the two gentlemen who usually supped with him. That, at a favorable opportunity, the attendant Indians would seize the arms of the Englishmen and give a signal to the band of warriors by whom the wigwam would be surrounded. Having told her story, the Indian maiden vanished silently into the night.
Smith of course laid his plans to circumvent his astute adoptive father, but he made no effort to expedite the loading which was delayed as he had been led to expect, so that night fell before it had been completed. Smith, Doctor Russell and George Percy sat down to supper as usual that night, just as eight unarmed, but stalwart, Indians, who looked little like waiters, came to the wigwam laden with viands which Powhatan begged his dear son and friends to accept. They were pleased to do so, and proceeded to attack the bountiful supply of good things without delay. But, to the dismay of the waiters, the Englishmen did not lay aside their arms. On the contrary, each of them had four pistols in his belt and a fifth cocked and primed by his side upon the ground. Furthermore, they lined themselves with their backs against the side of the wigwam, so that they constantly faced their anxious attendants who had thus no chance to spring upon them unawares. The Indians were plainly nonplussed and disconcerted. The feasters, whilst eating leisurely, enjoyed to the full the discomfiture of their intended captors. Smith vowed that it was the goodliest entertainment he had had since landing in Virginia. When our adventurers had filled their stomachs, they quietly levelled their pistols at the waiters and signed to them to keep silence and to lie down. They then bound each with cord, allowing them sufficient freedom of the legs to hobble. Pushing two of these before him as a shield, Smith threw back the skin flap and stood in the entrance of the wigwam.
“Warriors of the Powhatans!” he cried, addressing the concealed savages, to whom he knew that the light of the fire at his back made him plainly visible. “Warriors of the Powhatans! The English sleep like the village dog, with one eye cocked, but you think to find us snoring like old women when you steal upon us in the night. We also have learned something of the ambuscade since coming among you. What ho, my men!”
An answering shout ran along in the rear of the line of lurking savages, conveying to them the uncomfortable announcement that they had lain shadowed by a band of English.
“Back to your wigwams, valiants!” continued Smith derisively, “and dream of conquests that ye are not fit to achieve. If there be one among you bold enough to essay a single combat let him come out with his club and I with my bare hands will meet him. No? Then away with you! Your brother assassins will I hold in surety of a peaceful night’s slumber.” With that he re-entered the wigwam, pulling his bound Indians after him.
The pinnace was loaded without hitch the next morning. Indeed, the Indians, who appeared to be much depressed, had no greater desire than to see the strangers depart. When all was ready, Smith handed to them a liberal recompense for the provisions they had supplied, although their repeated treacheries would have fully justified him, one would think, in refusing payment. The barges were yet empty and Smith determined to go on to Pamaunke, the seat of his old enemy Opechancanough, and see if he could not induce that chief to complete the supply.
The expedition had no sooner left Werowocomico, than two of the renegade Dutchmen journeyed with all haste to Jamestown. There they purported to deliver a message from the President, and by means of this ruse secured a number of weapons, tools, and other useful articles, besides persuading six of their countrymen to desert the colony and, like themselves, throw in their lot with the Indians.