The street, when I went out into it, was very quiet. All windows and
doors were closed and barred. The yelling from the forest had ceased for
the moment, but I knew well that it would soon begin with doubled noise.
I hurried along the street to the palisade, where all the men of
Jamestown were gathered, armed and helmeted and breast-plated, waiting
for the foe in grim silence.
Through a loophole in the gate of the palisade I looked and saw the
sandy neck joining the town to the mainland, and the deep and dark woods
beyond, the fairy mantle giving invisibility to the foe. I drew back
from my loophole and held out my hand to a woman for a loaded musket. A
quick murmur like the drawing of a breath came from our line. The
governor, standing near me, cast an anxious glance along the stretch of
wooden stakes that were neither so high nor so thick as they should have
been.
"I am new to this warfare, Captain Percy," he said. "Do they think to
use those logs they carry as battering rams?"
"As scaling ladders, your honor," I replied. "It is possible that we may
have some sword play after all."
"We'll take your advice the next time we build a palisade, Ralph Percy,"
muttered West on my other side. Mounting the breastwork that we had
thrown up to shelter the women who were to load the muskets, he coolly
looked over the pales at the oncoming savages.
"Wait until they pass the blasted pine, men!" he cried. "Then give them
a hail of lead that will beat them back to the Pamunkey."
An arrow whistled by his ear; a second struck him on the shoulder but
pierced not his coat of mail. He came down from his dangerous post with
a laugh.
"If the leader could be picked off"--I said. "It's a long shot, but
there's no harm in trying."
As I spoke I raised my gun to my shoulder, but West leaned across Rolfe,
who stood between us, and plucked me by the sleeve.
"You've not looked at him closely," he said. "Look again."
I did as he told me, and lowered my musket. It was not for me to send
that Indian leader to his account. Rolfe's lips tightened and a sudden
pallor overspread his face. "Nantaquas?" he muttered in my ear, and I
nodded yes.
The volley that we fired full into the ranks of our foe was deadly, and
we looked to see them turn and flee, as they had fled so often before at
a hot volley. But this time they were led by one who had been trained in
English steadfastness. Broken for the moment by our fire, they rallied
and came on yelling, bearing logs, thick branches of trees, oars tied
together--anything by whose help they could hope to surmount the
palisade. We fired again, but they had planted their ladders. Before we
could snatch the loaded muskets from the women a dozen painted figures
appeared above the sharpened stakes. A moment, and they and a score
behind them had leaped down upon us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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