Great Britain -- History -- James I, 1603-1625 -- Fiction; Witchcraft -- Fiction
THE slave-seekers, one hundred and fifty armed men, struck a flag into
the earth before the village and demanded a parley. Their leader or
captain was a tall, black-bearded person, fierce and fell of voice and
aspect. He came to the front and shouted to the Indians in a mixture
of Spanish and Indian words. Also he made friendly-seeming gestures.
“No harm meant—no harm meant! Friends—friends! Your kindred send you
messages—from a happy country—much happier than here where you live!
Let us come into your village and talk.—We have beads and scarlet
cloth—”
But the village kept silence. At Aderhold’s instigation, immediately
after the ship’s first visit, it had digged around itself a shallow
ditch and planted in part a stockade of sharpened stakes, in part a
tall and thorny hedge. Within this manner of wall were gathered some
four hundred souls, counting men, women, and children. Besides the
infants and the small boys and girls there were the old and infirm and
the sick. All were naked of other defence than this one barrier and
the frail, booth-like walls of their huts. They were armed only with
primitive weapons. The word “Spaniard” meant to them ogre and giant.
If they were not truly ogres and giants, the slave-seekers were yet
active, hardened, picked men, trained in cruelty, practised in wiles,
fired with lust of the golden price. When the village held silent, the
leader tried again with blandishments; when there came no answer but
the hot sunshine and the murmur of wood and sea, the company lifted its
flag and advanced with deliberation. From behind the wall came a flight
of spears and arrows. A Spaniard staggered and fell. Some savage arm,
more sinewy than most, had sent a spear full through his neck. There
arose a roar of anger. The men from the ships, the black-bearded one
at their head, rushed forward, came tilt against the stockade and the
thorn hedge.... They had not believed in the stoutness of any defence,
nor of these Indians’ hearts. But driven back, they must believe.
Carrying with them their wounded, they withdrew halfway to the sea and
held council.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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