Having taken his wife into his confidence, Japazaws told her in the presence of Pocahontas that the white Captain had invited her to visit his ship. She retorted that she would like to accept, but would not go unless Pocahontas would go too. Japazaws pretended to be very angry at this:--
"I wish you to go," he exclaimed; "if you do not accept I will beat you until you do."
"I will not go without Pocahontas," she declared.
Pocahontas was very kind-hearted, as the chief and his wife knew, so at once she said:
"Stop beating her; I will do as she wishes!"
Captain Argall gave them a cordial greeting and had a lavish feast prepared in their honor, and while they were talking together he asked Pocahontas if she would not like to see the gun-room. She assented, entirely unsuspicious of any treachery, and was horrified when she heard the door fastened behind her, and knew that for some reason she was a prisoner. Terror-stricken,--brave girl though she was,--she pounded violently on the door and cried as she had never cried before in all her care-free life, begging "Let me out!" but in vain. She could hear Japazaws and his wife weeping even more violently than she on the other side of the door, and begging for her release, but it was only a pretense. The door remained locked, and as soon as the couple were given the copper kettle and a few trinkets, they left the ship contentedly. After that there was an ominous silence on the vessel, except for the sobbing of the Indian girl, who was still more frightened as she felt the motion of the ship and knew they were getting under way.
But as they sailed down the river to Jamestown, the captain unlocked the door and the girl was allowed to come out of her prison. She faced him with a passionate question:
"What wrong have I done that I should be so treated--I who have been always the loyal friend of the English?"
So noble was she in her youth and innocence, that the captain was horrified at the deed he had done and could do no less than tell her the truth. He assured her that she had done no wrong, that he well knew that she was the white man's friend, and that no harm should befall her, but that it was necessary to take firm measures to secure provisions for the starving colonists. Hearing this, she was less frightened and became quiet, if not in spirit, at least in manner, giving no cause for trouble as they entered the harbor. But her heart was filled with sadness when she again saw that fort to which she had so often gone with aid for her vanished friend whose name now never passed her lips.