Dreamless slumber—a plunging and rising of the boat—liquid fire!
The unfortunate Captain, screaming with pain, threw himself into the water. His horrified men could scarcely master his struggles as they pulled him aboard and rapidly rowed for home. No doctor skilled in burns was there to tend him; only the clumsy fingers of men applied the soothing oil and lint to his burnt body.
The news of his accident was carried by lurking Indians to Powhatan and came to the ears of Pocahontas. Her “father” hurt—wounded! The words beat upon her dazed brain like the strokes of a lash.
She must go to him. Let Powhatan kill if he would. Speeding under cover of night, with soothing ointments known to her tribe, she came to Jamestown.
“My father, my father! Pocahontas wants her father.”
Tenderly and gently Mr. Hunt led her to the bedside of John Smith.
“Has my little child come to see her father?” said the sick President. “He has missed his little one. She has not come to see him lately.”
“Powhatan not let Pocahontas come. She has herbs to make her father well.”
Turning to Mr. Hunt she said, “You ask Great Spirit to make Pocahontas’s father well, Pocahontas give many gifts in return.”
“I have already done so, my child. The Great Spirit does not need to be bought with gifts. He loves your father more than even you do.”