Powhatan looked him down cooly. "If your king has sent me presents, I also am a king and this is my land. Eight days will I stay here to receive them. Your father is to come to me, not I to him, nor yet to your fort. Neither will I bite at such bait. As for the Monacans, I can revenge my own injuries." There was no course left for Newport and Smith but to trudge twelve miles over land, while they sent the cumbersome presents by water. First they proffered the red suit and cloak which Powhatan tried on grudgingly. He knew that he could strut, even in incongruous rigging. His row of women admired him, putting him in an amiable mood. "What is this ewer and basin for?" "Ablutions, Majesty." His hands were quite clean, but he rinsed them to show that he could use such fixings. If a European peddler had been opening his bag, the chief could not have looked more dubious about purchases. At last they approached with the crown. "Please kneel, sire." Indeed he would not an inch, not so much as a notch on a stick. Stiff as a stalk he stood, but every inch a ruler, defiant in the passing wind. Smith had already observed that he had never seen such majesty in any creature. "It is customary for our monarchs to kneel. They are in a great church. A man of God anoints them." "Your O'Kee?" "His minister. It is not at all humiliating." "Captain Smith's God?" "Not mine alone. All believers, sire." "I am not a believer." "Will you kneel, sire?" "A king kneels to none." They must grin and bear it, so did both. As Smith described it: "At last by leaning hard on his shoulders he a little stooped, and Newport put the crown on his head." It was awry, and more so as a pistol shot succeeded by a volley from the ship, made Powhatan spring up in an unkingly panic. "What is that?" "A salute of honor to a king just crowned or born." "I don't like it. I was born before any of you, if not crowned," he muttered grumpily, settling back on his throne. As a last disdainful thrust, he handed over his discarded cloak and moccasins. "Perhaps your king might like these." His eyes added: "To show how we dress up over here." Smith caught it. On April tenth, 1608 Newport took away the mighty fallen Wingfield and the rebuked Archer. Ten days later Captain Nelson arrived with one hundred and two colonists and sufficient provisions for those on hand as well as for his own passengers. On his return trip he took off John Martin, a veteran colonist, who had cooled lately to Smith's blustering personality. Smith got his punishment from nature as well as from people. In June he was bitten by a stingray fish while he was spearing it. He was so beside himself with pain that he jumped into the water to cool his agony. His companions were pessimistically preparing his grave without reckoning on his vitality. In a short while he had recovered not only his nerve but even his appetite, and by supper time he was eating that very fish and chuckling about it.