unscrupulous as Captain Argall, and for a copper kettle promised to deliver Pocahontas into the Captain's hands—in fact, to bring her aboard his vessel on the following day.
Having taken his wife into his confidence, Japazaws told her in the presence of Pocahontas that the white Captain had invited her to visit his ship. She retorted that she would like to accept, but would not go unless Pocahontas would go too. Japazaws pretended to be very angry at this:—
"I wish you to go," he exclaimed; "if you do not accept I will beat you until you do."
But the squaw was firm.
"I will not go without Pocahontas," she declared.
Pocahontas was very kind-hearted, as the chief and his wife knew, so at once she said:
"Stop beating her; I will do as she wishes!"
Captain Argall gave them a cordial greeting and had a lavish feast prepared in their honor, and while they were talking together he asked Pocahontas if she would not like to see the gun-room. She assented, entirely unsuspicious of any treachery, and was horrified when she heard the door fastened behind her, and knew that for some reason she was a prisoner. Terror-stricken—brave girl though she was—she pounded violently on the door and cried as she had never cried before in all her care-free life, begging "Let me out!" but in vain. She could hear Japazaws and his wife weeping even more violently than she on the other side of the door, and begging for her release, but it was only a pretense. The door remained locked, and as soon as the couple were given the copper kettle and a few trinkets, they left the ship contentedly. After that there was an ominous silence on the vessel, except for the sobbing of the Indian girl, who was still more frightened as she felt the motion of the ship and knew they were getting under way.
But as they sailed down the river to Jamestown, the captain unlocked the door and the girl was allowed to come out of her prison. She faced him with a passionate question:
"What wrong have I done that I should be so treated—I who have been always the loyal friend of the English?"
So noble was she in her youth and innocence, that the captain was horrified at the deed he had done and could do no less than tell her the truth. He assured her that she had done no wrong, that he well knew that she was the white man's friend, and that no harm should befall her, but that it was necessary to take firm measures to secure provisions for the starving colonists. Hearing this, she was less frightened and became quiet, if not in spirit, at least in manner, giving no cause for trouble as they entered the harbor. But her heart was filled with sadness when she again saw that fort to which she had so often gone with aid for her vanished friend whose name now never passed her lips.
Indian girls mature rapidly, and the maiden who had first attracted Captain Smith's attention was no less lovely now, but she was in the full flower of womanliness and her charm and dignity of carriage compelled respect from all.
Powhatan was in his Place of Council when a messenger from Jamestown demanded audience with him and gave his message in quick, jerky sentences:
"Your daughter Pocahontas has been taken captive by the Englishmen," he said. "She will be held until you send back to Jamestown all the guns, tools, and men stolen from them by your warriors."
The old chief, terrified, grief-stricken, and in a dilemma, knew not what to say, for though he loved his daughter, he was determined to keep the firearms taken from the English. For a long time he was deep in thought. Finally he replied:
"The white men will not harm my child, who was their very good friend. They know my wrath will fall on them if they harm a hair of her head. Let her remain with them until I shall have made my decision."
Not another word would he say, but strode out from the Council Hall and was lost in the forest.
Three months went by without the Englishmen receiving a word from him, and Pocahontas meanwhile became their inspiration and joy, giving no sign that she feared her captors or objected to her captivity. Then Powhatan sent seven white men who had been held by the Indians to the settlement, carrying a gun which had been spoiled for use. Their leader brought this message from the Indian Emperor:
"If you will send back my daughter I will send you five hundred bushels of corn and be your friend forever. I have no more guns to return, as the remainder have been lost."
Prompt was the retort:
"Tell your Chief that his daughter will not be restored to him until our demand has been complied with. We do not believe that the guns have been lost."
The runner took back the message, and again nothing more was heard from Powhatan for several months, during which time the colonists became so deeply attached to the young captive that they dreaded to think of the settlement without her cheery presence. Especially did John Rolfe, a young widower, who was by report "an English gentleman of approved behavior and honest carriage," feel a special interest in the charming young savage; in fact he fell in love with her, but felt that he must convert her to the Christian religion before asking her to become his wife. So he devoted much time to instructing her in the doctrines of the white man's faith. Pocahontas accepted the new religion eagerly, and little did John Rolfe guess that to her it was the religion of Captain John Smith—a new tie binding her to the man who she believed had gone forever beyond her sight, but who would be forever dearest to her loyal heart, untutored girl of the forest though she was. It is doubtful, too, whether John Rolfe would ever have made any headway in her affection had she not believed her beloved Captain to be dead. However that may have been, she became a convert to Christianity, and John Rolfe asked her to marry him.
When almost a year had gone by with no word from Powhatan, the colonists were very angry and decided to force the issue. A party in command of Sir Thomas Dale, who had come from England to be the leader of the Jamestown settlement, sailed for Werewocomoco, taking Pocahontas with them, hoping that when Powhatan heard of the presence of his dearest daughter at his very door he would relent and yield to their demands.
But Powhatan was not at Werewocomoco. Anticipating just such a visit, he was in a safe retreat, and his warriors who thronged to the river bank to meet the white men at once attacked them, and there was lively skirmishing until two brothers of Pocahontas heard of her arrival. Hurrying to the river bank, they quelled the turmoil and hastily paddled out to the ship, where they were soon standing beside their sister, seeing with joy that despite her captivity she was well and happy, with the same merry light in her black eyes as she had in her forest days. Their feeling deepened into awe when with downcast eyes and flushed cheeks she told them of John Rolfe's love for her and of her attachment for him. Their sister girl of the forest, kin of the red men—going to marry an Englishman from that marvelous land across the sea, of which one of their tribe who had visited it had brought back the report: "Count the stars in the sky, the leaves on the trees, and the sand upon the seashore—such is the number of the people of England!" Pocahontas, their little sister, going to marry an Englishman!—the stalwart Indian boys could scarcely believe the tale, and on leaving the ship they hurried to their father's forest retreat to tell their wondrous tale. The old Chief listened with inscrutable reserve, but his eyes gleamed with exultation and in his heart he rejoiced. His daughter, child of an Indian Werowance, to become wife of a white man—the two races to be united? Surely this would be a greater advantage than all the firearms that could be bought or stolen!
But if he expected that the breach between the white men and the red would be at once healed, he was mistaken. Although Pocahontas greeted her brothers so cordially, she would have nothing to do with her father or any of his braves, and when Powhatan desired to see her she sent back the imperious message:
"Tell him if he had loved his daughter he would not have valued her less than old swords, pieces, and axes; wherefore will I still dwell with the Englishmen who love me!"
And back to Jamestown she presently sailed with those men of the race to which she had been loyal even in her captivity.
That Powhatan did not resent her refusal to see him after his long silence, but probably admired her for her determination, was soon shown. Ten days after the party reached Jamestown an Indian warrior, Opachisco,