Pocahontas (2 page)

Six moons passed, and it happened just as Young Deer had said. When the Corn Moon came, the Espaniuk returned. They killed many of our people with their thunder sticks. Then, once again, they left our land and waters. From that day on, the people of Paspahegh held both fear and hatred for the Coatmen.

From then on, I am told, we kept a watchful eye. More than anyone else, my father saw that we must be ready for danger. He was then the werowance, the commander of our village, of Powhatan, the place at the head of the waterfall. His vision told him what must be done. All the different villages of our people had to band together to be strong for when our enemies returned from the sunrise. My fathers vision was strong. Some joined his great alliance willingly. Other villages only gave in after we made war upon them and defeated them. My father became Mamanatowic, Great Chief of all the villages, the Powhatan. All decisions for peace or war were now made through him and his council of advisers. So it was that word was quickly brought to him about the arrival of these new Tassantassuk.

Some prepared to fight, especially the Rappahannocks. Only three winters ago, a swan canoe like these three had come to our shore bearing Outsiders who called themselves Songleesuk Those Songleesuk visited my father. The Great Man of those Songleesuk, who was very tall, said he came to trade with us and wanted to be our friend. This pleased my father. Perhaps these new Coatmen were different. He gave them permission to trade with our villages. The new Coatmen then took their big ship up the Rappahannock River. The werowance of Rappahannock
made them welcome. But the Songleesuk did not continue to behave as guests should. They did something awful.

It is said that the strangers did that awful thing because a Rappahannock man picked up one of their tools as if to carry it away with him. It is hard to believe that. Why would anyone hurt another person for only picking up a tool? But perhaps it is so. One of the strange things about Coatmen is that many of them seem to value their possessions over friendship or human lives. For whatever reason, the tall Great Man of the Tassantassuk pointed his thunder stick and killed the man who had picked up the tool. Then the other Coatmen fired their thunder sticks, too. They killed the werowance of Rappahannock, burned the town, took some of the shocked villagers as captives, and sailed away. So it was that the Rappahannocks swore they would fight the Coatmen if they ever returned.

Many of our own people, though, hoped that these new Coatmen would finally be different. Perhaps they would be true friends. After all, some Tassantassuk had learned to live peacefully among us. Those Outsiders came to the outer shore five returnings of the leaves before I was born. They made a small village on the island Roanoak. Then their swan ship left them. They were abandoned so long by their own countrymen that they began to starve. All would have died without the help of our people. Finally, the surviving Coatmen took off their coats. Outsiders no longer, they joined us. Some of them came to five at Chesepiock. It is sad what happened to Chesepiock because of the prophecy. Because of the prophecy, my father used his power of life to wipe out that village.

As my father's favorite daughter, I sit close to his feet. Others fear him for his power, but I do not. His power, though, is greater than that of any other man. Our many villages trusted
my father so much that when they came together under his leadership, they gave him the power of life.

"Why is this so?" I asked my wise older brother, Naukaquawis. "Why does our father have the right to order another persons death?"

"In the days of our father's father," he explained, "whenever there was great wrong done to someone, that man or his relatives would seek revenge and injure or kill the one who had done wrong. Throw, I am ready."

Naukaquawis, who died into manhood six returnings of the leaves ago, knows many things. Although he is no longer a boy and thus does not play with me as he did when he was younger, we still talk together about things. Also, I help him when he practices with his bow and arrow. All of our men are great shots. A boy is given his first bow almost as soon as he can walk. It is the job of his mother to help him practice early every morning by tossing things up into the air for him to shoot at. To make it more interesting, that boy may be denied his morning meal if he misses too many times. Since our mother is no longer with us, I have taken on the task of making sure that Naukaquawis stays sharp as an arrow point now that he is a man. In return, he must always answer anything I ask him. I have at least one question for every arrow he shoots.

"What happened then?" I asked, tossing a ball of moss back and forth between my hands. Then, "
Hi-yah!
" I shouted, as I threw it high up into the air. It had not even reached the height of my throw before Naukaquawis's arrow pierced it.

"Then," Naukaquawis continued, not even bothering to take another arrow from the quiver on his back, "the relatives of that person who had been punished would themselves seek revenge. It went back and forth like this so much that there was
always fighting between not only different families but also their villages."

"So what could be done to stop this?" I said. "
Yah-hey!
" I cried, throwing the second ball of moss as hard as I could over his head and to his left.

With a motion so fast that his hand blurred like a bird's wing, Naukaquawis whipped an arrow from his quiver, nocked it to his bow, spun, and let loose his shot. This time he hit the ball of moss as it was descending.

"When the power to judge and punish wrongdoing was taken out of the hands of individuals and given to our father," he continued, "that fighting ended."

"Why is that so?" I asked. Then I lifted up my hand as if to throw the ball of moss in it. "You will get no breakfast at all if you miss this one," I said. Then I hurled the second moss ball, which I'd concealed in my other hand.

My brother was not fooled. He did not even look toward the target as he let his arrow go. It struck the target and pinned it to the trunk of a mulberry. Then he made a face at me, squinting his eyes and thrusting out his lips.

I made one back, sticking out my tongue, and he laughed. But it did not stop him from giving his answer. "Now we have peace between our villages because all complaints are brought to the Mamanatowic before any fighting takes place. Our father makes his decision, with the quiet counsel of his advisers."

"Like Rawhunt?" I asked.

"Unh-hunh, and others, both women and men. With the help of his council, our father judges who is right or wrong and what punishment must be given."

My brother slung his bow over his shoulder and held out his hand in a gathering motion. We were done with target
practice—and questions—for that day. It was now time to retrieve the arrows he had shot.

But he was not done with his words about my fathers justice. "Those who do great wrong," Naukaquawis said as he pulled the arrow from the trunk of the mulberry, "such as willfully killing another person, those wrongdoers may even be put to death by our father's orders."

I grew silent at that. I do not like the thought of people being put to death. I do not like the stern, sad look that giving such commands brings to my father's face. But I know how to make him laugh. All I have to do is dance, or stand upon my hands, or sing to him. Then his stern face breaks into a smile. I know how much he appreciates the fact that I can always bring him laughter. He likes to have me by his side.

So I was there on that day in the season before the leaves returned in his great bark-covered longhouse. He waited, sitting in great dignity upon his bench covered with woven mats and padded with leather pillows that were beautifully decorated with shells. I listened with excitement as my father, Powhatan, the Mamanatowic, received the message about the coming of three swan canoes.

My father nodded calmly.

"We will not attack them," he said. "I will keep my eyes upon these Tassantassuk in their swan ships. We do not know yet if they are friends or not, but we are ready. We are ready for peace ... or war."

In the year 1606
^*
Captain Newport, with three ships, discovered the Bay of Chessiopeock in the height of thirty-seven degrees of northerly latitude, and landed a hundred persons of sundry qualities and arts in a river falling into it; and left them under the government of a president and council, according to the authority derived from and limited by his Majesty's letters patents.

—
FROM
A T
RUE
& S
INCERE
D
ECLARATION
BY THE
C
OUNCIL OF
V
IRGINIA

DECEMBER
19
TH
, 1606–
MARCH
1
ST
, 1607

M
Y NAME, DEAR READER
, is John Smith. I am, indeed, that same Captain John Smith, Gentleman, of whom others have lately spoken. I take pen to paper to give answer to certain questions that have arisen about my enterprize in fair Virginia, how our plantation there did come to be, our relation with the naturals of that land, the weak judgement in danger and less in peace of certain of those who were called our leaders, how I did provide for others neglecting for myself, &tc., &tc.

First, one might ask, why did it take so long? It might well be thought a country as fair as Virginia is, and a people so tractable, would long ere this have been quietly possessed to the satisfaction of the adventurers and the eternizing of the memory of those that effected it. But because all the world do see a defailment, this following treatise of mine shall give satisfaction to all readers how the business hath been carried. Then, no doubt, they will easily understand and find answer to their question how it came to pass there was no better speed and success in these proceedings.

***

Captain Bartholomew Gosnoll was one of the first movers of our plantation. For many years he solicited his friends for help, but found small assistance. At last he prevailed with some gentlemen as myself, Master Edward Maria Wingfield, Master Robert Hunt, and diverse others. We then waited a year upon his projects. It was only with our great charge and industry that certain of the nobility, gentry, and merchants spoke in our favor. More than five hundred pounds of my own estate was invested in this pursuit. So at last, on April 10th, 1606, His Majesty King James I affixed his seal to letters patent granting our London Company the right to settle in Virginia.

Now, near another year was spent to effect this. By this time three ships were provided. None of them were over large. The French man-of-war on which I, John Smith, did sail from North Africa to the Canaries (where I engaged in battle two Spanish warships) was twice the size of our flag ship. In point of fact, every one of the ships on which our hopeful company sailed to the new land was smaller, even that ill-favored vessel upon which I once took passage from Marseilles.

Long shall I remember how when a Mediterranean storm
came upon us, the rabble of pilgrims of diverse nations going to Rome cursed both myself and our dread Sovereign Queen Elizabeth. Saying they should never have fair weather as long as I was among them, they then threw me overboard. Yet, God did provide for John Smith. As has so often been the case, foul fortune brought me fair. I swam to a small isle, where I was rescued by the good Captain la Roche of San Malo. Joining his company, we met with an argosy of Venice. When they fired upon us, we gave them back a broadside and bloodily fought until they yielded. As reward for my part in the taking of that ship, I was given five hundred chicqueenes and a little box made of gold worth near as much more and was set well financed down upon the coast of Italy. But, interesting as that tale of my adventure may be and though my readers may surely wish to hear more of my telling of it, there is no time for that now. I must, perforce, return to the matter of Virginia.

Our flag ship was the
Susan Constant,
seventy feet in length, one hundred and twenty tons. Its captain was Christofer Newport. Though he had lost one arm in battle with the Spanish, Captain Newport had crossed the Atlantic several times. The
Godspeed,
forty feet long and forty tons, was captained by Bartholomew Gosnoll himself. The third of our ships, the
Discovery,
was but a pinnace of twenty tons, scarce thirty feet long. Captain John Ratliffe—or so he called himself at that time—held its command.

The names of them that were the first planters are these following:

COUNCEL

Master Edward Maria Wingfield
Captain Bartholomew Gosnoll
Captain John Smith
Captain John Ratliffe
Captain John Martin
Captain George Kendall

GENTLEMEN

Master Robert Hunt, preacher
Master George Percie
Anthony Gosnoll
George Flower
Captain Gabriell Archer
Robert Fenton
Robert Ford
William Bruster
Jehu Robinson
Thomas Wotton, chirugeon
& thirty-nine other gentlemen

CARPENTERS

William Laxon
Edward Pising
Thomas Emry
Robert Small

Anas Todkill
John Capper
James Read, blacksmith
Jonas Profit, sailor
Thomas Cowper, barber
John Herd, bricklayer
William Garret, bricklayer
Edward Brinto, mason
William Love, tailor
Nicholas Scot, drummer
William Wilkinson, chirugeon

LABORERS

John Laydon
William Cassen
George Cassen
Thomas Cassen
William Rodes
& seven others

BOYS

Samuell Collier
Nathaniell Pecock
James Brumfield
Richard Mutton

—with divers others to the number of 105.

On the 19th of December, 1606, we set sail from Black-wall. We had expected the crossing to take but ten weeks. However, from the start, our voyage was not easy. Unprosperous winds kept us long in the sight of England in the Downs off the east coast of Kent. Master Hunt, our preacher, was so weak and sick that few expected his recovery. Yet, though he was but twenty miles from his habitation, he preferred the service of God in so good a voyage. With the water of patience and his godly exhortations, he quenched the flames of envy and dissension. Six full weeks passed before we finally were able to leave the Downs and set out at last across the uncertain ocean.