ard the bay. But as the council at the Governor's was breaking up,
and as Wynne and I were hurrying off to make our choice of the craft at
the landing, there came a great noise from the watchers upon the bank,
and a cry that boats were coming down the stream.

It was so, and there were in them white men, nearly all of whom had
their wounds to show, and cowering women and children. One boat had come
from the plantation at Paspahegh, and two from Martin-Brandon; they held
all that were left of the people.... A woman had in her lap the body
of a child, and would not let us take it from her; another, with a
half-severed arm, crouched above a man who lay in his blood in the
bottom of the boat.

Thus began that strange procession that lasted throughout the afternoon
and night and into the next day, when a sloop came down from Henricus
with the news that the English were in force there to stand their
ground, although their loss had been heavy. Hour after hour they came
as fast as sail and oar could bring them, the panic-stricken folk, whose
homes were burned, whose kindred were slain, who had themselves escaped
as by a miracle. Many were sorely wounded, so that they died when we
lifted them from the boats; others had slighter hurts. Each boatload
had the same tale to tell of treachery, surprise, and fiendish butchery.
Wherever it had been possible the English had made a desperate defense,
in the face of which the savages gave way and finally retired to the
forest. Contrary to their wont, the Indians took few prisoners, but for
the most part slew outright those whom they seized, wreaking their
spite upon the senseless corpses. A man too good for this world, George
Thorpe, who would think no evil, was killed and his body mutilated by
those whom he had taught and loved. And Nathaniel Powel was dead, and
four others of the Council, besides many more of name and note. There
were many women slain and little children.

From the stronger hundreds came tidings of the number lost, and that the
survivors would hold the homes that were left, for the time at least.
The Indians had withdrawn; it remained to be seen if they were satisfied
with the havoc they had wrought. Would his Honor send by boat--there
could be no traveling through the woods--news of how others had fared,
and also powder and shot?

Before the dawning we had heard from all save the remoter settlements.
The blow had been struck, and the hurt was deep. But it was not bey