At her right hand walked an English interpreter, at her left her
son, a youth of twenty.
When Queen Pamunky reached the table she stood still looking at
the members coldly and gravely, and only at their urgent request
did she sit down. Beside her, as they had entered the room, stood
her son and interpreter on either hand.
When she was seated the chairman asked her how many men she would
send to help them against the enemy Indians. All those present were
quite sure that she understood English, but she would not speak
to the chairman direct, and answered him through her interpreter,
bidding him speak to her son.
The young Indian chieftain however also refused to reply. So again
the Queen was urged to say how many men she could send.
For some minutes she sat still, as if in deep thought. Then in a
shrill high voice full of passionate fervour, and trembling as if
with tears, she spoke in her own tongue, and ever and anon amid the
tragic torrent of sound the words "Tatapatamoi chepiack, Tatapatamoi
chepiack" could be heard.
Few present understood her. But one of the members did, and shook
his head sadly.
"What she says is too true, to our shame be it said," he sighed. "My
father was general in that battle of which she speaks. Tatapatamoi
was her husband, and he led a hundred men against our enemies,
and was there slain with most of his company.
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