Opechancanough, the fierce and implacable enemy of the whites, was now nearly a hundred years old, and the commanding form, which had so often shone conspicuous in scenes of blood, was worn down by the fatigues of war, and bending under the weight of years. No longer able to walk, he was carried from place to place by his warriors in a litter. His body was emaciated, and he could only see when his eyelids were opened by his attendants. Sir William Berkley at length moving rapidly with a party of horse, surprised the superannuated chief at some distance from his residence, and he was carried a prisoner to Jamestown, and there kindly treated. He retained a spirit unconquered by decrepitude of body or reverse of fortune. Hearing one day footsteps in the room where he lay, he requested his eyelids to be raised, when, perceiving a crowd of persons attracted there by a curiosity to see the famous chief, he called for the governor, and upon his appearance, said to him: "Had it been my fortune to take Sir William Berkley prisoner, I would have disdained to make a show of him." He, however, had made a show of Captain Smith when he was a prisoner. About a fortnight after Opechancanough's capture, one of his guards, for some private revenge, basely shot him in the back. Languishing awhile of the wound, he died at Jamestown, and was probably buried there. His death brought about a peace with the Indian savages, which endured for many years without interruption. Sir William Berkley left Virginia for England in June, 1644, and returned in June, 1645, his place being filled during his absence by Richard Kemp. The spirit of freedom long gaining ground, like a smothered fire, began now to flame up and burst forth in England. Charles the First, incomparably superior to his father in manners, habits, and tastes--a model of kingly grace and dignity, yet was a more determined and dangerous enemy to the rights of the people. On the 19th of March, 1642, having escaped from insurgent London, he reached the ancient capital, York, and on the twenty-fifth day of August raised his standard, under inauspicious omens, at Nottingham. The royal forces under Prince Rupert suffered a disastrous defeat at Marston Moor, July 2d, 1644; and while Sir William Berkley was crossing the Atlantic, the king was overthrown at Naseby, on the 4th of June, 1645. In this eventful year, and so disastrous to the king, of whom the Berkleys were such staunch supporters, Gloucester, the chief city of the county where they resided, and which had been ravaged and plundered by Rupert, was now in the hands of the parliamentary forces, and Cromwell had been early in the year convoying ammunition thither.[204:A] A sad time for the visit of the loyal Berkley! During the troubles in England the correspondence of the colony was interrupted, supplies reduced, trade obstructed; and the planters looked forward with solicitude to the issue of such alarming events.