"Standing close to them," she said, "is like being downwind from one of the black-and-white-striped ones."
She would not allow them to sit near her.
When I first heard this, I found it hard to believe that men could smell that badly.
"Do they not bathe every day as we do?" I asked Rawhunt.
Rawhunt shook his head. "Amonute," he said, "listen, listen. In this way, at least, these new Tassantassuk are like the Espaniuk They seem to fear, yes, fear the touch of water on their bodies. They never wash themselves or remove their heavy coats." Rawhunt laughed. "Perhaps, perhaps it is because they have such love for all the little crawling things that live in the fur on their faces and on their bodies. They do not want to disturb their tiny chums by bathing. I see you shake your head, but what I say is true. It is true. I met some of them when I was younger. Long ago, long ago as it was, I still remember how badly they smelled. Indeed, if you are downwind, it is always easy to tell when a Tassantassa is coming your way. Waugh, you can smell him long before you can see him. Long before you can see him. Long before."
Opechancanough, who is my father's younger brother, has also had dealings with Tassantassuk. One of his closest friends was killed by a party of Coatmen led by a very tall man. Another of his friends was wounded by the small stones thrown by a thunder stick and now walks with a limp.
"Those Coatmen," Opechancanough said, "attacked them for no reason." He mistrusts all of these newcomers.
"Hunh," he said to me when I asked if it was true that Coatmen had an unpleasant odor. "Hear what I tell you, my niece. They are foul-smelling ones, it is true. But the things they do are worse than their smell. We should drive all of them away from our lands and waters."
***
In fact, it was my uncle, Opechancanough, who told me how the attack on the Tassantassuk came about. In only a few handfuls of days the Coatmen had upset and insulted many people. They had angered so many people that villages that had been fighting one another for a generation decided to join together in the attack. Men from the Chiskiacks, the Appamattucks, the Paspaheghs, the Quiyoughcahannocks, and the Wyanocks all took part. They thought that their attack would succeed quickly. They believed that they would kill a few of the Coatmen and discourage the rest so much that they would get into their big swan canoes and go away. They chose a time when the Coatmen who seemed to be the best fighters were away from their camp.
The Tassantassuk turned out to be better fighters than our men had expected. A few of the Coatmen tried to hide, especially one fat Coatman whose beard was so large that an arrow stuck in it. But others stood and faced our warriors bravely. Even when they were wounded, they kept fighting. Their thunder sticks were bad, but our men learned that they could drop to the ground and avoid being hit, as one does when an arrow is fired. Our men were close to victory when the swan boats themselves roared thunder, and our fighters had to retreat. Even though they were beaten, they did not run. They sang and shouted defiance as they backed away. They carried with them all those who had been struck by the Coatmen's weapons.
Twelve men were badly injured. Seven others were killed. One of them, though he had recently gone to live among his friends at Appamattuck, came from our great town. His mother and sisters are still here. His body had been brought to them at dawn by his companions. It was the voices of those who loved him that I heard weeping and crying. Their faces blackened the dark color of grief, they wailed for the loss of their beloved one.
Wearing his finest jewelry, necklaces, and earrings of shells and copper, wrapped in deerskins, he would be placed on his burial scaffold before Kefgawes, the Great Sun, reached the middle of the sky. His face would never be seen again, not even in the faces of his children. He had died so young that he had not yet fathered a child. So the women of his family cried and cried.
Hearing them cry, I wondered again why it was that men had to fight one another. I do not like war. Wars are like those Four Wind Giants. They only seek to eat the people.
10. JOHN SMITH: The Fort
Captain Newport, having always his eyes and ears open to the proceedings of the colony, 3 or 4 days before his departure, asked the president how he thought himself settled in the government—whose answer was that no disturbance could endanger him of the colony but it must be wrought either by Captain Gosnoll or Master Archer. For the one was strong with friends and followers, and could if he would; and the other was troubled with an ambitious spirit, and would if he could. The Captain gave them both knowledge of this the president's opinion, and moved them with many entreaties to be mindful of their duties to His Majesty and the colony.
—FROM A DISCOURSE OF VIRGINIA,
BY EDWARD MARIA WINGFIELD
MAY 26TH–JUNE 22ND, 1607
MANY NOW WERE the assaults and ambuscadoes of the salvages. We labored hard pallisadoing our fort which was built upon the western end of our point of land. Of his own accord, our worthy Captain Newport ordered his seamen to aid us. It was well that we set to work, for that Friday the salvages gave on again. This time, though, they came with more fear, daring not to come within musket range. Above forty arrows fell into and about the fort. They hurt not any of us, but finding one of our poor dogs, did kill him.
A quiet day followed. Then, upon Sunday, the first and thirtieth of May, they again came lurking in the thickets and tall grass. I had urged that we clear the land about the fort, but my words, as usual, had gone unheeded by the wisdom of the council. Eustace Clovell, a gentleman, was straggling unarmed outside the fort. The hidden salvages pierced him with six arrows in no more time than it does take to draw a breath. Wherewith Clovell came running into the fort.
"Arm, arm!" he cried loudly, those arrows sticking out of him and quivering as he ran.
The salvages stayed not, but ran away. Master Clovell himself departed after eight days of suffering from his grievous wounds.
On the very day of Clovell's death, two salvages came and presented themselves unarmed.
"Wingapo," they shouted.
I perceived them to be emissaries come from those kings with whom we had perfect league. But one of our gentlemen shot at them. As is their custom, the salvages fell down and then leaped up and ran away. Yet as they departed through the woods we heard them still crying "wingapo withstanding.
Meanwhile, the building of our fort continued. Trenches were dug two feet deep. In them, heavy logs were placed side by side, strengthened by crosspieces, making a wall that rose high above our heads. Thus would we be well hidden from the spying eyes of any enemies. The shape of our fort was triangle-wise. The longest side, a full four hundred feet in length, lay upon the river, where our three ships were closely tied. Two hundred feet long were each of the other walls, with three bulwarks, like a half-moon, at every corner. In each bulwark were four or five pieces of mounted artillery. Truly we would make ourselves sufficently strong against any assault of the salvages.
What toil we had with so small a power to guard our work adays, watch all night, resist our enemies, and effect our business to relade the ships, cut down trees, and prepare the ground to plant our corn. We had but six weeks to spend in this manner. Captain Newport, who was hired only for our transportation, was to return with the ships.
Yet even in the midst of this toil and danger, much was the mischief that daily sprang from the ignorant yet ambitious spirits who hated John Smith. But the good doctrine and exhortation of our preacher Master Hunt reconciled them. For that, upon the tenth of June, I was released from confinement. Although some on that very day did yet protest and urge my punishment, I was set free without check.
Left hand upon the hilt of my sword, I stood forth before Master Hunt and the assembled company. Placing my right hand upon the Bible held out to me, I firmly spoke the words of the oath.
"I shall faithfully and truly declare my mind and opinion according to my heart and conscience in all things..."
As I spoke, my eyes sought those of the gentleman Wingfield. The brave Wing
field did not dare to meet them, but stared instead at the ground. The words of a piece of poetry then shaped themselves in my mind. I wrote them down that evening when there was pause between the work of labor and guard.
Good men did ne'er their country's ruin bring
But when evil men shall injuries begin,
Not caring to corrupt and violate
The judgement seat for their own lucre's sake,
Then look, that country cannot long have peace,
Though for the present it have rest and ease.
Our men by their disorderly straggling were often hurt, when the salvages by the nimbleness of their heels well escaped. On the thirteenth of June, two of our mariners, Master John Collson and Master Mathew Fytch, foolishly went by themselves outside the wall. Eight salvages lay in wait among the weeds and tall grass. They shot Master Fytch dangerously in the breast and so ran away.
Upon the following day, the two salvages who had been driven off six days before again presented themselves unarmed and far beyond the range of our muskets. This time, recognizing one of them as a salvage who had shown kindness, I made sure that no shot was fired. They came in and certified to us who were friends and who foes, saying that the kings of Pamaunkee, Aratahec, Youghtamong, and Matapoll would aid us in making peace with our contracted enemies. Before they left, they counseled us to cut down the long weeds round about our fort. At that I permitted myself a smile.
***
The fifteenth of June we had built and finished our fort. By the nineteenth, our ships were well laden with a great stock of shakes cut from the oaks and other trees. Such wood is of great value in trade, though we thought that the ore we had loaded was worth far more. The stone glittered with what certain of our company assured us was truly veins rich with gold. Little did we know then that our false gold was but antimony and those rocks worth no more than the weight of ballast. The true treasure of Virginia would never be in gold and silver, but in a simpler trade that only wise men would perceive.
The following day, June twentieth, all received the communion. Our church was a simple one. We hung an awning made from an old sail to three or four trees to shadow us from the sun. Our walls were rails of wood, our seats unhewed trees, our pulpit a bar of wood nailed to two neighboring trees. Rough though our cathedral was, surely God did most mercifully hear us—till the continued inundations of mistaking directions, factions, and numbers of unprovided libertines near consumed us all, as the Israelites in the wilderness.
The day following, the salvages voluntarily desire peace; and Captain Newport returned for England with news, leaving in Virginia the first planters, one hundred who knew not what sufferings lay ahead.
11. POCAHONTAS: The Touch of a Woman's Hands
After Great Hare drove the Four Wind Giants away, he made the waters and in those waters placed the fish. Thus there would be food in the waters for the people. Great Hare made the plants of the earth, and on the earth he placed a Great Deer. Great Deer fed upon those plants as Great Hare intended.
The Four Wind Giants were still angry because Great Hare had not allowed them to eat the first people. Now what Great Hare had made caused them to be even more jealous. So those Four Wind Giants came flying from their homes in the four directions. They made spears from sharp poles. They hunted the Great Deer and killed it with their spears. They cut it into pieces and ate it, leaving only the hairs of the deer scattered upon the ground. Then the Four Winds once more went away.
Great Hare saw what the Four Wind Giants had done. He gathered up all of the hairs of the Great Deer. Then Great Hare began to chant and sing. As he sang and chanted, he scattered the hairs of Great Deer on the earth. Each hair, when it struck the earth, turned into a deer and ran away into the forest. So it is that there are many deer to this day.
NEPINOUGH
TIME OF CORN RIPENING
EARLY JUNE 1607
I HAVE BEEN TOLD that there are not as many deer now in our land as there were when my father was my age. Uttomatomakkin has said that it may be that the deer are not pleased because we do not treat them with enough respect. So the leaders of the deer people have urged them to move away from our lands. It is the sort of thing that a priest would say.
Rawhunt thinks there are fewer deer just because there are more of our people here than there were when my father was a child. Rawhunt says that even though those sicknesses that seem to follow the Tassantassuk have spread through our land twice during his life, killing many people, still our people have survived, survived and grown in number, like the hairs of the deer scattered upon the earth. If a man would be a real man, he must be a good hunter, and so our men kill many deer each year.
I have watched the hunters bring the skins in tribute to my father. As the Great Chief, my father has a right to eight of every ten deerskins. He never takes that many, for if he did so it would make the people too poor and it would be hard for families to clothe themselves. But the men must bring those skins and lay them before him so that he can choose to take as many as he wishes. It reminds everyone of his power and of how strongly our alliance is bound together. If any village behaves badly, my father may increase the number of skins he takes to punish its people.
***
That story of Great Hare had come to me and made me go so deep into my thoughts that I forgot what I was supposed to do. It is that way when you are in the Moon Lodge, for it is a place that is meant to allow you to go deep into your thoughts.
"Pocahontas," Green Reed called from the other side of the Moon Lodge, "I am still waiting for you to bring me that deerskin to place over my lap."
I carefully chose a soft, smoke-tanned skin from the pile and brought it back to my elder mother.
I am not old enough to have my own moon time yet, but on this day I was being honored by those women who invited me to help them. They need such help, for when a woman spends her time in the Moon House each month—usually during those days and nights when Grandmother Moon is largest in the sky—that woman does no work herself. She does not cook or tan skins, she does not gather useful plants from the forest, or hoe in the gardens, or do any of the many, many things women must do so that the people can live well. At this time others must do the work, and she comes to stay here with her moon sisters in the special house at the edge of the village. She has nothing to do other than relax, and think, and talk. The younger women who do not yet have their moons bring food for her and do whatever small chores she asks them to do, whether it is to comb her hair or keep the fires burning.
I usually do much talking—some say too much. In the Moon Lodge, though, I mostly listen. So many things are always talked about by the women in the Moon Lodge. This day, many of those things had to do with the Coatmen.
Many of the things talked about in the Moon House become advice to reach the ears of Powhatan. It is true that my father is the Great Chief of our alliance, but his power does not just come from himself. It comes from his making the right decisions for the good of the people. It comes from the support and the advice of the women. Whenever he calls the people together in council, there are always women sitting beside him and behind him. We women often say that we know what a man will do long before he does it. After all, we are the ones who make up his mind for him.
"Are the Coatmen truly men?" Pemminawsqua motioned to me with her chin as she asked her question of the other women, who were gathered beside her in a circle.
I hurried over to hand her the scratching stick that she pointed at with her lips. When a woman is in her moon, she does not even scratch herself with her hands, but uses a special stick. Pemminawsqua is a very good-looking woman. Her arms and legs are round, her hips broad. She has four children and is a very good mother. I think my own birth mother would now look like her if she had lived. Pemminawsqua's face is also attractively round, round as Grandmother Moon, and it shines with health, smooth and lovely as the silk grass she is named for. She has a low, pleasant voice, and it seems as if she is close to a laugh wh
enever she speaks.
"I ask this," Pemminawsqua continued, "because they do not do the things that men are supposed to do."
"Or if they do them, they do them very poorly," Wighsakan agreed. "They are very poor hunters, they do not know how to find their way through the forest without becoming lost, and many of them seem to be cowards."
"This is true," Green Reed said. The way she said it meant she wanted to hear what the other, younger women had to say.
"They also do the things that women do," Atamasku, a thin woman with a high voice, said quickly. Of all the women who were in the Moon Lodge, Atamasku was the one who seemed the least relaxed. She is named for the lily that hides beneath the grass, but she is more like the hummingbird, who always wants to be in motion. "They are trying to plant corn and grow it," Atamasku said, patting her hands on her lap. "But the earth is not listening to them," she added, shaking not just her head, but her shoulders as well. "No. Nothing they have planted is growing well. Everyone knows the earth prefers the touch of a woman's hands."
"Ah," Pemminawsqua said in her soft voice. "But they have no women among them."
"Is it no wonder then that they are crazy?" Wighsakan said. "Who else but women can do what women do?" She smiled broadly and nodded to Pemminawsqua. "Truly, sister, the Coatmen do not even do the things that men do."
Everyone laughed for a long time because of what Wighsakan said.
Then, after a time of pleasant silence, the conversation turned to our own gardens. Although the women joked about the inability of the Coatmen to grow their crops, this had not been a good year for planting for our own crops. The dryness and the rains had come at the wrong times. Each year we plant four different crops of corn, two that usually ripen at the start of the summer, two more that come in the fall. This year our first harvest would be very small. If not for the many different kinds of food that we gather from the lands and waters, it could be hard for us when the crops do not grow well.
Pocahontas Page 6