Captain John Smith and Pocahontas Page #2

Save the Indians the trouble.

Not if we labor fast. Go on, man.

And the rest of you, a ditch below

the river bank, and dig as you hope to live.

Follow me.

Don't listen to the loudmouth cockerel, lad.

It'll be your death.

He who does not dig, gets no shelter.

- Come on.

- Lads, listen to me.

He gives orders as if he'd been chartered

by the King himself.

We'll see for how long.

If John Rolfe could reach the ships

in time to give the message...

we still had a chance.

But at this moment, the odds were long

against Jamestown surviving.

The signal. Take cover.

John.

- It was an able piece of work, John Rolfe.

- The sight of you and the men lifts a load.

- I was afraid the work too well done.

- At least half our company is safe.

It's small enough.

Great credit lying in a hole

when there's fighting afoot.

I have memory of you

at the very bottom of the hole.

Come, lads.

There's work aplenty for all.

- How go the tally, John?

- Not so good, Captain.

We were short enough before the attack.

And now, between Indians

and the ship's cannon...

most of what we did have is gone.

Now here's a list I made:

Of dried fish, 200 pounds, of salt...

By whose orders

do you assume this authority?

By whose order do you question it?

I'm a gentleman,

born to a higher rank than any here.

That is of concern only to you

and your mother, not me.

It's a matter I also intend to settle

between us, here and now.

Men.

I suggest we put this matter to a vote.

I have a candidate.

He saved our skins.

And he'd be a man who would tweak

the devil's own tail, if need be.

- Capt. John Smith!

- Aye!

You fools, this job calls for a gentleman,

not an adventurer.

As for me, I look into a man's heart.

Not whether he was born

between silken sheets.

Capt. Smith has my hand.

- Aye, and mine.

- With mine added to the number.

You're daft, all of you.

Mr. Wingfield's quality born.

He'll lead you well.

True words, every one of them.

What say you, Captain?

I can tell you better

when the votes are counted, Charlie.

All right, then let's put it to a vote.

Who speaks up for Mr. Wingfield?

- I do.

- And me.

Now, who speaks up for Capt. John Smith?

- Hurray!

- Capt. John Smith!

Have you more to say, Mr. Wingfield?

Aye, at my own time and choice.

My thanks to you, friends.

But I warn you fair,

it is no life of ease I promise.

You will not be picking up those golden

nuggets you dreamed of in England...

as gladsome Indian maids

sing lullabies of love in your ears.

No.

You will scratch for food and tighten

your belt as you dodge Indian arrows.

Well, enough talk. To work.

And the first to test your muscles,

a stockade for protection.

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