"Where is he now?" she asked. "I wish to go to him."
Nautauquas looked at her earnestly as if he would question her, but did
not. "They say he is on his way to Jamestown and should reach there on
the morrow."
As Pocahontas and Nautauquas returned at sunset to Werowocomoco, the
girl stopped at Wansutis's lodge.
"Thou comest for healing herbs for thy white man," exclaimed the old
woman before Pocahontas had spoken a word. "I have them here ready for
thee," and she thrust a bundle into the astonished maiden's hands.
"But," continued the hag, "though they would cure any of our people,
they will not have power with the white man's malady save he have faith
in them."
Then she went back into the gloom of her lodge and Pocahontas walked
away in silence.
It was not Pocahontas whom Wansutis wished to aid, but the white
Captain. The old woman had never spoken to him, or of him to others; but
she had listened eagerly to all the tales told of his powers. She was
sure that he possessed magic knowledge beyond that of her own people,
and she waited for the day when she might persuade him to impart some of
his medicine to herself. The fact that he was now injured and in danger
did not change her opinion. Some medicine was better for certain
troubles than for others. Perhaps her herbs in this case would be
stronger than his own magic.
Before the night was over Pocahontas had started on her way to
Jamestown. She went alone, since somehow she did not wish to chatter
with a companion. The thunder storms had cooled the air and softened the
earth. It was still early in the morning when she reached the town, now
grown to be a settlement of fifty houses. On the wharf she saw men
hurrying back and forth to the ship, fastened by stout hawsers to the
posts, bearing bundles of bear and fox skins, such as she had seen them
purchase from her people, and boxes and trunks up to the deck. One of
the latter looked to her strangely like one she had seen in Smith's
house, of Cordova leather with a richly wrought iron lock. "Doubtless,"
she thought, "he is sending it back filled with gifts for the king he
speaks so much of."
She hastened towards his house and before she reached it she saw that
his bed had been carried outside the door and that he lay upon it,
propped up by pillows. She recognized, too, the doctor in the man who
was just leaving him. Now in her eagerness she ran the rest of the way
and Smith, catching sight of her, waved his hand feebly.
"Alas! my Brother," she cried as she took his hand in hers, and saw how
thin it had grown, "alas! how hast thou harmed thyself?"
"Thou hast heard, Matoaka?" he answered, smiling bravely in spite of the
pain, "and art come, as thou hast ever come to Jamestown, to bring aid
and comfort."
"I have herbs here for thy wound," she replied, taking them out of her
pouch. "They will heal it speedily. They are great medicine."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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