John Smith and the Jamestown Colony: Chickahominy and Opechancanough

At the approach of winter the rivers of Virginia abounded with wild-fowl, and the English now were well supplied with bread, peas, persimmons, fish, and game. But this plenty did not last long, for what Smith carefully provided the colonists carelessly wasted. The idlers at Jamestown, including some of the council, now began to mutter complaints against Smith for not having discovered the source of the Chickahominy, it being supposed that the South Sea, or Pacific Ocean, lay not far distant, and that a communication with it would be found by some river running from the northwest. The Chickahominy flowed in that direction, and hence the solicitude of these Jamestown cosmographers to trace that river to its head. To allay this dissatisfaction of the council, Smith made another voyage up that river, and proceeded until it became necessary, in order to pass, to cut away a large tree which had fallen across the stream. When at last the barge could advance no farther, he returned eight miles and moored her in a wide bay out of danger, and leaving orders to his men not to venture on shore until his return, accompanied by two of his men and two Indian guides, and leaving seven men in the barge, he went still higher up in a canoe to the distance of twenty miles. In a short time after he had parted from the barge the men left in her went ashore, and one of them, George Cassen, was surprised and killed. Smith, in the meanwhile, not suspecting this disaster, reached the marshy ground towards the head of the river, "the slashes," and went out with his gun to provide food for the party, and took with him one of the Indians. During his excursion his two men, Robinson and Emry, were slain, and he himself was attacked by a numerous party of Indians, two of whom he killed with a pistol. He protected himself from their arrows by making a shield of his guide, binding him fast by the arm with one of his garters. Many arrows pierced his clothes, and some slightly wounded him. Endeavoring to reach the canoe, and walking backward with his eye still fixed on his pursuers, he sunk to his waist in an oozy creek, and his savage with him. Nevertheless the Indians were afraid to approach until, being now half dead with cold, he threw away his arms, when they drew him forth, and led him to the fire where his two companions were lying dead. Here the Indians chafed his benumbed limbs, and, having restored the vital heat, Smith inquired for their chief, and they pointed him to Opechancanough, the great chief of Pamunkey. Smith presented him a mariner's compass: the vibrations of the mysterious needle astonished the untutored sons of the forest. In a short time they bound the prisoner to a tree, and were about to shoot him to death, when Opechancanough holding up the compass, they all laid down their bows and arrows. Then marching in Indian file they led the captive, guarded by fifteen men, about six miles, to Orapakes, a hunting town in the upper part of the Chickahominy swamp, and about twelve miles northeast from the falls of James River [Richmond]. At this town, consisting of thirty or forty houses, built like arbors and covered with mats, the women and children came forth to meet them, staring in amazement at Smith. Opechancanough and his followers performed their military exercises, and joined in the war-dance. Smith was confined in a long house under a guard, and an enormous quantity of bread and venison was set before him, as if to fatten him for sacrifice, or because they supposed that a superior being required a proportionately larger supply of food. An Indian who had received some toys from Smith at Jamestown now, in return, brought him a warm garment of fur,--a pleasing instance of gratitude, a sentiment often found even in the breast of a savage. Another Indian, whose son had been mortally wounded by Smith, made an attempt to kill him in revenge, and was only prevented by the interposition of his guards.

Smith then sent a written message to Jamestown, and received a reply, the Indians being astonished on perceiving that "paper could talk." The captive was next taken to Pamaunkee, the residence of the chief.

Here, for three days, they engaged in their horrid orgies and incantations, with a view to divine their prisoner's secret designs, whether friendly or hostile. They also showed him a bag of gunpowder, which they were reserving till the next spring, when they intended to sow it in the ground, as they were desirous of propagating so useful an article.