“Now what on earth can that be?” cried Adam. “Surely all the angels of Satan must be in that swamp.”
“We will reconnoiter,” said Smith.
“Have you gone daft, man? Do you want them to seize you by the hair and bear you off to toast on a pitchfork?”
“You should not be afraid of your familiar friends,” returned the Captain, his brown eyes twinkling. “Pocahontas said you were the chief of the terrible tribe. Who will go with me to reconnoiter?” he added.
“I will go,” spoke up Adam, “I might just as well be scalped there as here.”
“I thought you were afraid!” taunted a fellow voyager.
“I am safer with Smith than with you. He is worth all the rest of the colony put together.”
“Now listen to my instructions, men,” said the Captain. “If any danger threatens us, I will cry ‘Saint George,’ and do four of you fellows come to our aid, while the rest stand ready to push off the boat.”
Armed with their muskets and powder-horns, Captain Smith and Adam Clotworthy started on their perilous adventure through the dark swamp. Knowledge of danger was to Captain Smith like the scent of battle to the pawing war-horse. His spirits rose at every step. Not so the worthy Adam; his courage drained down to his toes as he stumbled along over deceitful hillocks showing dimly under the fitful light of the moon. Choosing an eminence covered with lush grass, he stepped upon it. Immediately it gave away and he slid down into a pool filled with black, slimy ooze.
“They have got me!” he wailed under his breath. “I can feel their icy claws upon my feet. Lord have mercy upon my sinful soul! Don’t let the devil have me! You know I am not fit to die. Only let me get out and I swear I will never utter another oath, and I will go to church regularly every day. Indeed I will!”