Somewhere up its chequered reaches Smith left the shallop with men
to guard it, and, taking two of the party with two Indian guides, went on
in a canoe up a narrower way. Presently those left with the boat
incautiously go ashore and are attacked by Indians. One is taken, tortured,
and slain. The others get back to their boat and so away, down the
Chickahominy and into the now somewhat familiar James. But Smith with his
two men, Robinson and Emry, are now alone in the wilderness, up among
narrow waters, brown marshes, fallen and obstructing tree trunks. Now come
the men-hunting Indians - the King of Pamaunck, says Smith, with two hundred
bowmen. Robinson and Emry are shot full of arrows. Smith is wounded, but
with his musket deters the foe, killing several of the savages. His eyes
upon them, he steps backward, hoping he may beat them off till he shall
recover the shallop, but meets with the ill chance of a boggy and icy
stream into which he stumbles, and here is taken.
See him now before "Opechancanough, King of Pamaunck!" Savages and
procedures of the more civilized with savages have, the world over, a
family resemblance. Like many a man before him and after, Smith casts about
for a propitiatory wonder. He has with him, so fortunately, "a round ivory
double-compass dial." This, with a genial manner, he would present to
Opechancanough. The savages gaze, cannot touch through the glass the moving
needle, grunt their admiration. Smith proceeds, with gestures and what
Indian words he knows, to deliver a scientific lecture.
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