JOHN Smith was well worth rescue by Pocahontas for this country's sake, if not for her own. Americans halt before his statue—however tarnished and battered the brass. Still, he was no model lad in his lively day. He was the bold exception to the rules of the school at Louth, England, which he recommended for the other—and duller fellow. A duller fellow would have dug in the lush Lincolnshire countryside forever and a day.
His tenant-farmer father, George Smith, had relished the life, whether he was sitting as juror solemnly, or playing at bowls or horses right jollily. He died early, leaving his family comfortable feather beds and goodly pewter plates and candlesticks. His widow married too hastily to suit her sensitive son John, who now tucked away his memory of her, and deserted home, having already bolted his desk. Now that he was a free young man, his place as an apprentice did not detain him, for the call of salt and hemp in the port of Lynn had already lured him.
At this reckless point Lord Willoughby, his father's protector, stood him in good stead. The noble was touched by lowly George Smith's bequest of a two-year old mare. George could not have done better indirectly by his son John. It was as if he mounted him on a dashing steed, champing to be off for heroic travel. Willoughby lifted the fatherless young John Smith into a knightly sphere which was rare for a lad of his station. Besides being gratified by his friend's affection, he was mindful of John's resourceful and entertaining companionship for his own two gentler lads.
He invited him to "Grimothorpe," a rugged castle with a stone tower and twelve chimneys. Willoughby had fought with Sir Phillip Sydney and he, like Sydney, had ballads written about himself. John enjoyed his hospitality before setting out with the boys' tutors, servants and horses on a Continental journey. They went from northwestern to southeastern France, stopping at Orleans and at Turenne. After six weeks with the party, John continued on his own to Paris, Holland and Edinburgh.
Returning to his home-town John, feeling "glutted with too much company" took to the woods, where he studied the art of combat. After incredible exploits, he returned to London as a seasoned hero of twenty-four years, and was listed as "gent."
He was not ready to settle down yet by any manner of means and he pricked up his ears at the clarion call of the West. Agriculture and industry were bogging down and limiting commerce in England, and many wanted a new livelihood.
The old world's clutch on western shores had failed. The Roanoke Colony had filed valorously into oblivion to the South after Sir Walter Raleigh had tried three times to establish a permanent settlement. Attempts in the North at Elizabeth's Island and at St. George's Fort had been equally unsuccessful. It was recalled now that Hakluyt had advised Raleigh in 1586 that the present Virginian coast would be the most favorable point for colonization. But Raleigh himself was now a prisoner in the Tower of London, pacing back and forth on the narrow battlement which was assigned to him for exercise. Queen Elizabeth I herself, as a young prisoner there, had had but little more range—but she had reigned long, and had been dead for three years, and the colony which Raleigh had named Virginia for the Virgin Queen had disappeared.
Yet the men who now induced her successor, King James, to incorporate two Virginia companies had been associated with Raleigh. That John Smith should be included in their councils indicated how far he had gotten. Since he was a veteran traveller, his betters had deigned to include him in their enterprise, and he was to sail with the group sent by the company for South Virginia.
Three ships were being loaded. Smith would be on the Susan Constant, of one hundred tons, under Christopher Newport, which carried seventy-one passengers, and which flew the red cross of England at her masthead. The Godspeed, of forty tons was under Captain Gosnold, a veteran colonist, and the Discovery, of twenty tons, under Captain John Ratcliffe. All three ships were rigged alike, having three masts, with square sails on the fore and mainmasts. The weather detained them until February, although they got off to a false start just before Christmas when they were clamped in the Downs until New Year's Day.
A third of the passengers were gentlemen, and therefore overbearing. They resented Smith's assurance and soon had him in chains, accusing him of exciting mutiny and trying to make himself king of Virginia. The trip was as stormy without as within, and six weeks of each other's discordant company seemed too, too much.
At long last, at dawn on the twenty-sixth day of April, they spied land.
Some of them ventured ashore to the envy of Smith, who was still in chains. All day long they found the calm as deceptive as it was enticing, for as they returned to the ship in the late afternoon, savages crept toward them on all fours like bears with their bows in their mouths. Gabriel Archer got wounded in both hands and a sailor more seriously.
The colonists crowded on the Susan Constant that night, and opened the secret box which named the seven leaders. While each hoped to have his name among the elect, none was so confident as Smith, although he was not allowed to take his appointed place when his name was read out. He would bide his time, knowing that he would soon be free to make their maps with his feet as well as with his hands.
On the twenty-seventh of April they put together the shallop, which had been brought from England in pieces, so that Newport and a group could explore further. Their findings were delightful. Oysters covered the ground as thick as stones and large and tender to the taste. Soon they pounced upon strawberries too.