The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book I

Chapter 4: Smoke and Ashes

The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book I

Chapter 4: Smoke and Ashes

Pocahontas took the supply pack from John Rolfe and pulled his shirt up to examine the wound. It appeared to be a relatively shallow gash along his ribcage, but it was difficult to see with the dense mangroves obscuring the moonlight. Flit came over to look as well, appearing very concerned. "I'm sure he'll be okay, Flit," she said. Meeko and Percy joined them and sniffed the gash in curiosity. Meeko cooed worriedly at Pocahontas. The Englishman's shirt was bloodstained, but he was not bleeding as much as before.

Pocahontas pulled off the remaining half of her sopping male shirt, wrung it out, and wrapped it tightly around Rolfe's injured torso. "Ouch," he murmured in a low tone.

"Sorry, John. I just want to stop the bleeding," Pocahontas spoke, applying a little more pressure. "It doesn't look too bad, but it's hard to tell without enough light."

"It's the salt, love. It burns like fire," John Rolfe expressed, hissing in pain. "I thought I was going to pass out when I first entered the water. Can't believe we made it this far. How did we get to land? Did the current carry us in?" he groaned, peering around.

Pocahontas paused, pursing her lips. "Not quite. Look, John, maybe we can find a freshwater river around here somewhere to wash out the salt so it'll stop hurting. It would be nice to get a bath too," she remarked, casually changing the subject.

"No kidding. I've actually got a skin of water in the supply pack so I'd like to wash it now. It's hurting pretty badly," he indicated, groping for the bag over his shoulder. He could not find it and immediately panicked. "Oh no! Did I lose it?" he cried.

"No," Pocahontas replied, giving him a shoulder pat. "I have it right here." She reached in the pack and found the skin of water. After she untied the binding around John Rolfe's torso, she used the water to rinse the wound. Rolfe hissed but seemed to relax a moment later when the stinging from the salt slowly subsided. "Better?" she inquired.

John Rolfe nodded sluggishly. After resting a bit, he unsteadily pushed himself off the sandy soil and into a sitting position with Pocahontas's assistance. "I can't... seriously believe we're alive," he breathed, laughing miserably. He glanced at the black waters and gritted his teeth in apprehension when he spotted three sharp gray fins.

Pocahontas saw them too and whispered a thanks to the spirits of the black-and-white whales. Not only had the majestic creatures rescued them from the pirates, but they had also rescued them from the sharks. The predatory fish had to have followed John Rolfe's blood trail in the water. Thankfully, the orcas had out-swam them to land.

"I don't know about you, but I think we can wait until morning to dry our clothes out. A fire in the daylight is less easily spotted. Thank goodness it's so warm here or we would have to worry about freezing to death," John Rolfe noted, shakily rising to his feet. The Englishman hit his head lightly on the branch of a mangrove, grunting.

Pocahontas suddenly gasped and John Rolfe glanced down at her. Her deep brown eyes filled to the brim with tears. "What is it, love?" Rolfe hurriedly inquired.

"My mother's necklace. It must still be on the ship! I'll never see it again," she cried. John Rolfe frowned at her and then produced said necklace from one of his deep trouser pockets. Pocahontas's eyes turned to saucers and she grabbed it. "But I thought..." she began, examining the treasured item closely to ensure she was not dreaming.

"I only hid it below the floorboards at first because I feared the pirates might search us. Later on, I retrieved it and kept it on my person. I've got the king's order too," John Rolfe explained, patting the long bulge on the side of his soaked trousers. He reached into the supply pack and produced the sopping wet map, frowning again. "Good thing the king's order is in a sealed container," he remarked. "Maybe this'll dry if I hang it on a branch," he speculated, draping the wet parchment gingerly over a mangrove bough.