Although from what Nantaquas and Pocahontas had told it would seem that little was to be feared at present from these unwelcome visitors, the life of Powhatan was too precious to permit any unnecessary risk to be run. He ordered his son to go a little nearer, holding himself ready to make instant flight when told to do so. Thus edging up, they were able to see three or four tents on a small peninsula, jutting out from the northern shore. The white men from across the sea had already landed and begun the first lasting English settlement in the New World.

Nantaquas would have liked to visit the newcomers, now that his sister was not with him, but Powhatan would not allow it, and, at his command, he turned the head of the canoe up stream, before it had attracted notice, and paddled hurriedly from the place. As before, the chieftain did not speak, even after the boat had been run to land and drawn up the beach. He stepped out, and, with the majesty that was rarely or never absent, strode through the wilderness to his lodge or native "palace," with his son walking silently at the rear. Arrived there, he held a long council with his under chiefs and leading warriors. The plans for the destruction of the colony were fixed; but before he slept that night Pocahontas drew from him all that had been agreed upon, and she did not rest until he had given his promise to defer the fearful work. He would not pledge himself to do more than postpone his purpose, but such postponement was of the greatest importance to the welfare of the little colony.

CHAPTER IV.
A CALL OF STATE

The three small ships with their one hundred and five men sailed up the James River, until they had reached a point some fifty miles from its mouth, when their interest was drawn to a low peninsula, which put out from the northern shore. It was a bad site for a settlement, because it was half covered with water at high tide. Since those days it has become an island; but it looked so pleasing to the men who had been tossed on the stormy ocean for so many months, that it was taken as their new home. Anchor was dropped, the smaller boats began taking the emigrants and their belongings to shore, and there, on May 13th, 1607, was founded Jamestown, which, as I have already stated, was the first lasting settlement planted by the English in the New World.

Sad to say, nearly three quarters of a century later, when the colony was torn by civil strife, Jamestown was burned to the ground, and never rebuilt. All that remains are the ruins of an old church tower and a few mouldering tombstones. These are rapidly crumbling; the waves dash mournfully against the shore; the sea-fowl flit past; and ere many years come and go all traces of the famous town will have disappeared.

As the English went ashore they pitched their tents, but the season was so mild that they found it more agreeable to make their homes for the time under the verdant foliage of the trees while building their cabins. These were put up on the neck of the peninsula, and before long the place took on the appearance of a community. It is a pleasure to recall that these people were good churchmen, and from the hour of their landing gave strict attention to the duties of religion. The first place of public worship in America was a ragged tent. An awning was stretched among the trunks of trees, and a bar, fastened between two of these, served as a reading desk. At this Mr. Hunt read the Service morning and evening, preached twice each Sunday, and, at intervals of three months, celebrated the Holy Communion. When he was prevented through illness or other causes, Captain John Smith or some of his associates read the service.

As soon as the hurry of work was over, a structure was put up. Of course, it was of modest size and build, but when Lord Delaware arrived three years later, he records that this first religious edifice built by Englishmen in America was sixty feet long and twenty four feet wide.

It would seem that the best of beginnings had been made, for trees were felled, cabins built, and a church erected; but a woeful mistake lay in the character of the men themselves. Very few had the least fitness for pioneer work. When the box was opened in which King James had sealed the names of the first seven Councillors, all but two of those selected proved grossly unfit. These two were Bartholomew Gosnold and John Smith. Gosnold soon died, and Smith had not been freed from arrest on the charge of plotting against the colony. Edward Maria Wingfield was chosen first president, but he was lazy, self-indulgent, and seemed to be able to think of nothing except Smith and his plots for placing himself at the head of affairs. The other Councillors were no better than he, and the prospect of Jamestown was dark.

This sad unfitness was not confined to the rulers. More than half the men were ranked as "gentlemen," which in those times meant persons who did not do manual labor. The wild rumors of the abundance of gold in the New World drew them across the ocean. They believed that it would take only a short time to load the three vessels with the yellow metal, when they would return to England and live in luxury for the rest of their days. You naturally find that most of those who toiled for a living were jewelers and gold-refiners.