At noon, they climbed aboard the shallop, hoisted its sails, and, beneath a hot, early summer sun, began their slow progress upstream.
By the first night they had managed 18 miles, reaching a ‘low meadow point’ on the south side of the river. There they met the Weyanock people, who claimed to be hostile towards the Paspahegh. The following morning, they set off early, managing 16 miles before breakfast. Stopping at an islet created by a large loop in the river, they found ‘many turkeys and great store of young birds like blackbirds, whereof we took divers which we break our fast withal’.
A canoe carrying eight Indians appeared on the river, and the English hailed them with one of the first words they had learned: ‘wingapoh’, which they understood to mean ‘good fellow’. The Indians approached, and ‘in conference by signs’, the English asked them for guidance on the river’s course. One of the Indians, apparently the leader of the group, stepped forward and offered to help. Archer was unable to discover his name, so dubbed him the ‘Kind Consort’.
Using his toe, the Kind Consort started to draw a map in the sand of the river bank. Archer stopped him, offering him a pen and paper, and showing how he could use it. Immediately understanding what he had to do, the Kind Consort began to draw, laying out for the delighted English ‘the whole river from the [Chesapeake] Bay to the end of it, so far as passage was for boats’. He indicated that, upstream of ‘Turkey Isle’, as Archer had dubbed their current location, lay another islet, and beyond that, a series of waterfalls, marking the end of the navigable river. A day’s march beyond the falls, the river divided in two, both branches coming from the mountains. This was the land of two other ‘kingdoms’. ‘Then, a great distance off,’ stood the mountains of ‘Quirank’, which, he whispered, had rocks containing veins of caquassan, understood to be the Indian word for red earth, which might signify the presence of copper or even gold. Furthermore, the Kind Consort confirmed that just beyond these mountains lay ‘that which we expected’, as Archer coyly put it in his journal, referring to the saltwater lake.
Anxious to proceed, Newport declined offers of hospitality from the Kind Consort, and sailed on. However, the Indian ‘with two women and another fellow of his own consort’ was anxious to track the English, and continued to follow them in the canoe, proffering dried oysters from a basket as they went. Eventually, the English found they could no longer resist, and, rendezvousing at a ‘point’ on the river bank, ‘bartered with them for most of their victuals’.
Two miles further up lay the first signs of the rockier world ahead, the shore being ‘full of great cobblestones and higher land’. Once again, the Kind Consort appeared, this time offering ‘sweet nuts like acorns (a very good fruit), wheat, beans, and mulberries sod [soaked] together’. Newport bought what he could, after which the Indian disappeared.
The following day, a further 5 miles on, the English landed, and ‘found our kind comrades [the Indians] again’, who escorted them to a town on the north bank of the river called Arrohateck. There they received their most opulent welcome yet. A feeling spread among the English that, as they proceeded west, they were closing in on the centre of Indian power.
‘King Arrohateck’, as Archer named the town’s weroance, honoured Newport by laying a reed mat across his shoulders and placing a crown of ‘deer’s hair dyed red’ upon his head. He offered the visitors ‘mulberries, sod wheat and beans, and he caused his women to make cakes for us’. He also volunteered some of his men as guides for the journey into the interior.
It was from King Arrohateck that the English first discovered that there was a ‘great king’, a supreme ruler or mamanatowick to whom all the chiefs around the river paid homage and tribute. His name was Powhatan. ‘Now as we sat merry banqueting with them, seeing their dances and taking tobacco,’ the chief’s warriors suddenly got to their feet, and formed a guard of honour for another guest, whom they welcomed with a ‘long shout’. This, the English thought, must be the mamanatowick Powhatan himself. It was in fact his son Parahunt, known as ‘Tanxpowhatan’ or ‘Little Powhatan’, the confusion arising because the town he ruled was also called Powhatan, perhaps because it was the mamanatowick’s birthplace.16
Noting that King Arrohateck had remained seated, the English guests did likewise, ‘our captain in the middest’. However, acknowledging the status of the new arrival, Newport offered ‘gifts of divers sorts, as penny knives, shears, bells, beads, glass toys, etc., more amply than before’. In gratitude for the generosity, ‘King Powhatan’ offered provisions and guides to escort the English to his town, further upriver. ‘Thus parting from “Arrohateck’s joy”,’ wrote Archer, brimming with optimism, ‘we found the people on either side the river stand in clusters all along, still proffering us victuals.’
A further 10 miles upstream, the river narrowed. On the northern bank rose the most striking landmark they had yet seen: a tall mound in the midst of fields full of wheat, beans, tobacco and other crops, intermingled. On top of the mound there was a collection of houses, which for the English had the appearance of the Indian capital. Archer called it ‘Powhatan’s Tower’.
They landed, and walked up to the town, where they found the Powhatan and Arrohateck chiefs waiting for them. The English noticed that they now sat apart from their own people. The only other person with them was a man who appeared to be a counsellor, who sat beside Parahunt. Once again, food was offered, ‘but our best entertainment was [the] friendly welcome’. There followed a discussion by ‘words and signs’ during which King Powhatan explained that all the ‘kingdoms’ on the north bank of the rivers were cheisc, which the English understood to mean ‘all one with him’ or ‘under him’. But the Chesapeake people, who lived on the southerly shore of the bay, were the enemy ‘generally to all these kingdoms’. Archer showed the chief the scars on his hands, barely healed, which had been inflicted by these Indians when the English first landed, and ‘for which we vowed revenge, after their manner pointing to the sun’.
Parahunt now placed his own gown upon Newport’s shoulders, which the English understood to mean he was offering a ‘league of friendship’. Putting his hand on his heart, he said to Newport, ‘Wingapoh chemuze,’ Archer taking this to be the kindest of all salutations in the Indian language.
It was now late, and the English said they needed to return to their ship. They were sent on their way with six of Parahunt’s men, and the English left behind one of their own as a gesture of trust. Rather than return directly to the shallop, they rowed 3 miles up the river, where they found what the Indians had warned them of: a great cataract that was clearly impassable. Even this far inland, the river was still tidal, rising 4 foot between high and low tide, and suitable for vessels with a draft less than 6 foot. But beyond, the only way forward was on foot.
‘Having viewed this place between content and grief,’ Archer concluded, ‘we left it for this night, determining the next day to fit ourselves for a march by land.’
The guides who were with them were sent home, except one, called Navirans, who asked if he could sleep on board the shallop with the English. Newport agreed, a gesture of faith rewarded with the safe return of the Englishman left at Powhatan’s Tower, ‘who coming told us of his entertainment, how they had prepared mats for him to lie on, gave him store of victuals, and made as much [of] him as could be’. A close relationship developed between Navirans and the English, particularly with Archer. The Indian ‘had learned me so much of the language,’ Archer wrote, ‘and was so excellently ingenious in signing out his meaning, that I could make him understand me, and perceive him also well-nigh in anything’.
The following day, Whitsunday,