John Smith and Thomas readied a cadre of the men for a rescue mission, Ben and Lon gathered explosives and rifles from the armory, and Wiggins gave Governor Ratcliffe head in the Command Tent.
Mr Endon had been captured last night while on guard duty, and his wide-eyed watch-partner, Lyle Wort, was heard to say that he neither heard nor saw any foul play, but even so he'd roused the others when it was clear Endon was missing.
As the men prepared themselves and rushed about the encampment to fulfill their tasks, Thomas took Smith aside.
'I have a bad feeling about this, Jon. Does any of this make sense to you? I don't think-'
'I know. Trust me, Tom, I have a plan. It will be dangerous, I won't lie to you, but if we can manage it, the Indians will be in total disarray and demoralized.'
Thomas frowned, the doubt clear on his face. 'We have few enough options, I'll admit it. Have you run your plan by the Governoy, by any chance?'
Yes.
Meanwhile...
Ratcliffe's eyes near bulged out of his head as his crisis approached. He sat at his velvet chair, slumped, trousers around his ankles and his massive belly protruding. Wiggins was on his knees, cupping the balls and his lips carefully wrapped over his long foul teeth as he sucked his governor's cock.
'My seed is like unto gold,' hissed Ratcliffe, muscles tightening and veins standing out in his forehead and neck, 'be honored that I part with it so readily for you, Wiggins!' Not moments later, Ratcliffe's mouth drooped open impossibly wide, and his eyes almost popped out of his skull, and he gave a frighteningly loud gasp as he sprayed into the Wiggins scurvy mouth. The smaller man retched and reddened, then vomited half of it onto the governor's genitals, and being promptly ordered to do so, Wiggins lapped it back up with his tongue, Ratcliffe's big paw gripping him hard by the hair. Even so, the little fellow puked it right back up, dripping down the huge hairy legs. Then Ratcliffe vomited himself, a hot torrent of bile and broth with bits of asparagus, landing on Wiggsin's head and upper torso and befouling the lavish carpet.
Not three miles away, Chief Powhatan conferred with his prurient captains and Kokoum, his curvaceous and callipygous daughter Pocahontas behind him. They chattered and howled, they gestured to the unconscious captive Endon, and all about the village they shrieked and supplicated the spirits to accept the impending sacrifice. The tribe gathered wood and placed it in a great heap in the center of the village, with a stake to affix Endon to, and very soon they planned to overwhelm Endon with fire. None of them, however, knew anything of the enterprise Jonh Smith was going to effect.
That very night, Smith and his hand-picked party departed, armed but only lightly-armored. They brought two Mastiffs with them, brindle and savage-tempered. Thoomas was among them, as were Ben and Lon. The Scotsmen were the most skilled trackers in the camp. As they set off, Lyle Wort went off into the woods the other way and hanged himself with his belt, for he disagreed with the unwatchful life.
'There's gold beneath us, dear Wiggins,' said John Ratcliffe in this moment. 'What's more, you're going to help me dig it up, before the others return.' He retrieved two spades from his trunk, and tossing one to his bonnie steward, he started digging.
I won't say much about the trek to the village, or the excitement or stealth, but they soon arrived. An Indian stood guard, unsuspecting, not ten feet in front of Smith, spear in hand. Ben and Lon crept up behind him, silent as tigers, and sprang upon the hapless man, bearing him down and breaking his neck before he could so much as cry out.
When all was said and done, the Englishmen raced back to the camp with their captive Pocahontas securely tied, cleave-gagged, and blindfolded, Indians hooting and darting about in the village, Endon freed, and the dogs tearing out Kokoum's throat.
By then, Ratcliffe and exhausted Wiggins had excavated deep, and they found obsidian from ages past, and Ratcliffe wondered.
'Wiggins, inspect it.' And he did, bending over and gasping at the sight.
'Now, my sweet, you must drink from the cup of bitterness!' bellowed Ratcliffe, and he brought his spade down with ferocious strength and cleaved Wiggins' skull near in half. Blood and brains spattered the ground, and Ratcliffe dropped the spade and snatched up the obsidian.
Powhatan managed to restore something resembling order, and on the morrow they would negotiate with the Englishmen, and Pocahontas was kept securely tied and cleave-gagged ultra-tightly, the settlers celebrated their victory among themselves, Wort and Wiggins and John Ratcliffe were given burials, and John Smith was appointed Governor.
The ned.