Captain John Smith and Pocahontas Page #3

Come on, lads, to work.

John. Have a word with you?

Aye. Might as well.

I can't build this stockade by myself.

Have you worked out the rations?

The matter is even worse than I thought.

It'll have to be half-rations for all.

I doubt if even such a measure as that

will see us into the winter.

Then half-rations it'll be,

and quarter-rations if needful.

Perhaps wrinkled bellies

will move some of these gentlemen...

to hunt and scratch for their victuals.

Face it, Captain. Their hearts aren't in it.

These so-called gentlemen of quality

expect their inferiors to feed them.

Ten minutes after you announce half-rations

they'll all be Wingfield's men.

Piling out to the ships

to abandon the colony.

Then we must see to it they have no choice

in the matter.

By what means?

You'll discover in the morning.

In the meantime,

keep your inventory of the food to yourself.

Aye.

Capt. Smith!

Mr. Wingfield! Everybody up!

The ships, they're not there! Get up!

The ships! They're gone!

The ships are gone!

They've abandoned us.

- The ships, they're gone.

- Mutiny.

'Tis none of any.

- Look for yourself, they're gone.

- Aye, gone, by my order.

Those ships were our only hope.

And now he's doomed us to starve...

if the Indians don't save us the suffering

with their arrows.

- It'll mean our end.

- They were our only road to safety.

And as long as you had that thought

to depend on...

you had no thought

of depending upon yourselves.

Well, now you must,

if you mean to stay alive...

until the ship returns before winter

with new supplies.

And just what do we do

if the Indians swoop down upon us again?

We don't have ship's cannon to protect us.

I'm going to make our peace

with their great chief, Powhatan.

That old heathen has sworn the death

of every man here.

We can't spare men for a dangerous

expedition into the wilderness.

It would leave us at the mercy

of the first attack.

I take no fighters.

I ask only two volunteers.

Hark the wind he blows.

And who'd be daft enough...

to go with him to have his head planted

on an Indian stake?

Me!

My father said I'd live to be hung.

So why should I fear an Indian arrow?

- Good lad, Charles.

- I'm with you, Captain.

I'm beginning to think I'll find the red

man's company less a stink in my nostrils...

than some closer I could name.

Well, as you went along with this boaster

as he lived...

go with him as he dies.

And good riddance to all three of you.

Prepare yourselves, lads. We leave at once.

It's cursed hot, Captain.

There's a smell of water in the air.

It's the taste that interests me more.

There's no point in wandering aimlessly

through wilderness.

What do you suggest? As for me,

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