"They
were," said one of the old colonists who wrote of them, "ten times
more fit to spoil a Commonwealth than either to begin one or but
help to maintain one."
Now with all these "unruly gallants" poured into his little commonwealth
Smith found his position of President even more difficult than
before. Still, for a time, if he could not keep them altogether in
order he at least kept them in check.
Then one day by a terrible accident his rule was brought to a sudden
end. He was returning from an expedition up the James River when,
through some carelessness, a bag of gunpowder in his boat was
exploded. Smith was not killed by it, but he was sorely hurt. In
great pain, and no longer able to think and act for others, he was
carried back to Jamestown.
Here there was no doctor of any kind, and seeing himself then only
a useless hulk, and in danger of death, Smith gave up his post,
and leaving the colony, for which during two and a half years he
had worked and thought and fought so hard, he sailed homeward.
Many of the unruly sort were glad to see him go, but his old
companions with whom he had shared so many dangers and privations
were filled with grief. "He ever hated baseness, sloth, pride and
indignity," said one of them. "He never allowed more for himself
than for his soldiers with him. Upon no danger would he send them
where he would not lead them himself.
Pages:
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170