The Pilgrims of New England - Mrs. J. B. Webb
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From Coubitant, Squanto also received some intelligence, which, in the
minds both of the superstitious interpreter and his heathen informant,
was of vital importance to the settlers, and calculated to inspire them
with dread. This was the awful fact that, a short time previous,
several of the neighboring tribes had met in the adjacent forest, and
that the Powows of the whole district had passed three days and nights
in cursing the strangers, and uttering against them the most horrible
imprecations. The effect of this diabolical proceeding, in causing the
defeat of their foes, Coubitant did not do not; and, in spite of his
veneration for the English, and his conviction that their deities were
more powerful than the Indian demons, Squanto was filled with
apprehensions on their account. He communicated the circumstance to
Rodolph, and was surprised and almost offended at the smile of
indifference and contempt with which the Christian listened to him. But
he found it impossible to make him attach any importance to what seemed
to him so serious a calamity; and, by degrees, his own fears subsided
and his mind was reassured by the arguments and the cool composure of
Maitland.
Rodolph and his companions lay down to rest for the night in the Indian
hut, across the entrance of which Squanto placed several strong boughs,
and spread a cloak of deer-skin over them. This was done ostensibly for
the purpose of keeping out the cold night wind, but really to serve as
a screen from the prying eyes of Coubitant, whose intentions he much
mistrusted, and also as an obstacle to any attempt he might possibly
make to violate the laws of honor and hospitality, by a secret attack
on the person of the ambassador. Whether the savage actually meditated
any such act of treachery, was not known; but if he approached the hut
with a murderous purpose, he was probably deterred more by the fierce
growlings of Fingal--who lay at the entrance, but scarcely slept that
night--than by the barrier of boughs and deerskin.
Several times were the party awakened by the trusty watch-dog's angry
bark; and once, when Rodolph hastened to the entrance, and drew aside
the curtain, he thought he could descry more than one retreating figure
in the uncertain darkness. The continued uneasiness of Fingal prevented
his master from again giving way to sleep until after day had dawned,
when his faithful guard became tranquil, and he likewise sought the
repose which he greatly needed before recommencing his fatiguing
journey.
Ere he set out on his homeward way, Rodolph again repaired, with
Squanto, to the presence of the Chief; to demand his message to the
British Governor; and he was informed by Cundincus, that he had already
dispatched a messenger to restore the dreaded packet, and to deprecate
the wrath of the pale-faced Chieftain. This was all the ambassador
could desire; and, taking a courteous leave of the Sachem, he and his
attendants resumed their journey without further delay.
For a considerable distance their path lay through the forest; and the
underwood was so close and thick that the road consisted of a narrow
track, scarcely wider than would admit of two persons passing one
another along it, and only calculated for travelling in 'Indian file,'
which is so much practiced by the natives. In this manner our party
proceeded, Rodolph leading the way, and his attendants following
singly; while Fingal, who seemed rejoiced to have left the village,
bounded along at his master's side, ever and anon leaping up to express
his joy by licking his face and hands.
'Down, Fingal!' said his master, kindly patting his favorite's head,
and stroking his thick shaggy mane. 'Down, my good fellow; your joy is
too boisterous for this narrow, thorny path. You shall expend your
superfluous strength and spirits on the plain yonder; for I think I
detect some game scudding across the green meadow before us.'
Rodolph paused to adjust his gun; and the sagacious dog ceased his wild
demonstrations, end paused also until the task was completed. Then as
his master rose to proceed, he once more sprang up to his shoulder, end
his intelligent eyes asked leave to dash through the covert, and drive
out the expected game.
But why did that bound of pleasure change instantaneously into a
convulsion of agony? and why did the noble creature fall by his
master's side and look so earnestly up into his face? Surely, in the
midst of his own death struggle, he sought to tell him, with that mute
eloquence of love, that danger was near. Rodolph knew that it was so;
but no danger could then have compelled him to leave his dying friend--
the friend whose life was now ebbing away as a sacrifice for his own.
Yes! the shaft that had pierced through the neck of Fingal was designed
for Rodolph's breast; and he who cast it deemed that it had found its
intended mark, when, through the bushes, he saw the white man's form
bend quickly and suddenly to the ground. Then Coubitant fled
exultingly, and his savage heart beat high with joy and triumph.
But Rodolph thought not of him, or of his malice. He only saw his
faithful dog expiring at his side, and knew that he had no power to aid
him. It was evident that the arrow was poisoned, for the wound,
otherwise, appeared too slight to be mortal; and the foam that gathered
on Fingal's jaws, and the convulsive struggle that shook his form,
showed too plainly that his sufferings would soon be over. The
companions of Rodolph urged him to join them in instant flight; for
they felt the peril of their present situation, where the surrounding
thicket gave such ample opportunity to their lurking foes to take a
deadly aim, while, at the same time, it prevented them from either
discovering or pursuing their assailants. But all their arguments, and
all their entreaties, were unavailing so long as Fingal continued to
lick his master's caressing hand, and to reply to his well-known voice,
by looks of intelligent affection.
Soon, however, his head sank powerless on Rodolph's knee, and the
bright glance of his eye faded away, and life and motion ceased. Was it
unmanly in his master to brush a tear from his eye, as he rose from the
ground, and turned away one moment from the lifeless form of his
favorite?
'I will not leave him here,' he said. 'The savages shall not mangle his
body, as they would gladly have mangled mine. His death has saved my
life; and all that remains of him shall be carried to a place of
safety, and buried beyond the reach of those who slew him.'
'Yes,' replied Squanto readily--for he desired the removal of the dog
from that spot, for other reasons beside the gratification of
Maitland's feelings--' Yes; we will carry him away, and hide him from
Coubitant's eyes. Doubtless he will return here, as soon as all is
quiet, to see the success of his murderous attempt; and when he finds
the path thus stained with blood, he will be satisfied, and pursue us
no further than to see whether we bury our dead companion in the
forest, or bear him to his home. We must, therefore, carry Fingal all
the way to New Plymouth, lest he should follow on our trail, and
discover that he has only slain a dog.'
Rodolph's English companions concurred in this view, and willingly lent
their aid to convey the body of Fingal from the place of his death. A
couple of poles were cut hastily, and a rude light litter was formed;
for Squanto wished that Coubitant should find traces of such
preparations, as they would help to convince him that they had thus
borne away the wounded or dead form of the ambassador.
'Now,' said he, when all was ready, 'not another moment must be lost.
Even now the keen eye of the foe may be upon us, and our stratagem may
be in vain. Two of you must bear the litter, and must carefully place
your feet in the same spot, so as to form but one track; and lead our
pursuers to believe that only three men have passed along. And there,
throw that bloody handkerchief on the path, and Coubitant will take it
as a trophy of success. 'Stay,' he exclaimed, as Rodolph and one of his
friends were about to raise the lifeless form of Fingal from the ground
'stay one moment, and I will completely deceive that deceiver.'
He smiled as he spoke, for he felt it a pleasure and a triumph to
outwit the wily Coubitant. Then, while the body of the dog was
supported, he carefully pressed his feet on the soft path, so as to
leave a distinct impression, and convince any who should examine the
trail that it was not the dog who had been wounded. This cunning device
he practiced again and again until they had passed through the wood,
and entered the grassy meadow, where such precautions were no longer
needed. Then the party quickened their steps, and paused not again
until they had struck deeply into the forest that succeeded to the
undulating reach of meadowland.
The way seemed long to Rodolph. He desired to reach his cherished home;
and yet he dreaded to return and sadden the heart of his little Edith
with the story of Fingal's death, and the sight of the inanimate form
of her last and much-loved playfellow. Had it not been for this
catastrophe, he would have kept from his wife and child the knowledge
of the cruel attempt that had been made on his life as such knowledge
could only distress them, and cause them needless anxiety and alarm in
future. But the death of Fingal must be accounted for; and, let the
consequence be what it might, it must be accounted for truly, and
without prevarication. Therefore it was that Rodolph dreaded meeting
those whose presence was the joy and the sunlight of his life.
He reached his home, and silently entered his blooming garden; and,
with Squanto's assistance, laid the body of Fingal, now cold and stiff,
beneath the venerable tree that shaded Edith's bower. Then he entered
his dwelling, and found its inmates busily employed at their usual
domestic occupations, and overjoyed at his sudden and unexpected
arrival. But, in spite of his own pleasure, a shade of sadness and
anxiety was on his brow, which he could not hide from the quick eye of
Helen; and she eagerly inquired the cause.
Sadly Rodolph told his story; and joy and deep gratitude for the
preservation of her beloved husband so filled and engrossed the heart
of Helen, as, for a time, to overpower every feeling of regret for the
loss of the faithful animal, who seemed to have been providentially
directed to accompany his master, and save his life at the sacrifice of
his own.
But Edith keenly felt the loss she had sustained. She was thankful--
very thankful--that her father had been restored to their home in
safety; but she did not the less deplore the death of her dear
companion: and, unable to restrain her tears, she hurried from the
house, and ran to hide her grief in her lonely bower. For some time her
parents did not perceive her absence, for they were occupied with their
own feelings of pious gratitude; but presently Rodolph remarked that
she had left the room, and remembered where he had deposited the body
of her favorite. He rose, and went towards the spot, accompanied by
Helen; and tears of sorrowful sympathy arose in the eyes of both, as
they beheld the desolate child lying on the ground by Fingal's side,
with her arms around his neck, and her long waving hair hanging over
his inanimate face, that had never before met her gaze without an
answering look of intelligence and affection.
Gently they raised her, and spoke to her words of love and comfort; but
she long refused to be comforted. And though, at length, she became
calm and resigned, and never was heard to utter one murmur at this
fresh stroke of sorrow, yet her pensive sadness became more confirmed,
and plainly showed that she mourned for Fingal, not only as her lost
companion, but also as a connecting link between her own heart and the
memory of her lamented brother. Poor Edith! her early life was one of
trial and disappointment; but 'it was good for her to be afflicted.'
CHAPTER XIV.
'O Christian warriors! wherefore did you thus
Forget the precepts of your Lord and Chief,
And lend yourselves to deeds of guilt and blood!
Did ye not know--or, knowing, did not heed--
Those solemn words of His, when death was nigh,
And He bequeathed a _legacy of "peace"_
To His disciples? "They that take the sword
Shall perish with the sword." O, well it were
If ye who left your native land, and sought
A desert for the liberty of faith,
Had acted more according to that faith,
And sought to win the souls you rashly sent
To meet their God and yours!' ANON.
Yes, well, indeed, lied it been if the settlers had been able and
willing to preserve, unbroken, the friendly relations with the Indians,
which, after the first natural distrust felt by the natives towards the
white strangers had subsided, they were, in several instances, able to
establish. But such was not the case. They received many provocations
from the natives, even from those who professed to be most friendly
towards them, and also from the settlers who followed them from the
mother-country; and they did not always meet these provocations in the
truly Christian spirit which, it must be allowed, generally pervaded
their councils, and actuated their public and private proceedings with
the wild tribes by whom they were surrounded.
Even Masasoyt--their friend and ally--was about this time nearly
estranged from them, and on the point of joining the Narragansetts in a
project for their destruction. This change in his sentiments was the
result of the machinations of Coubitant, assisted by the foolish
pretensions and love of interference which rendered Squanto almost as
dangerous as he was useful to his employers. His boasting tales about
the power of the English settlers to imprison and to let loose the
desolating plague at their will and pleasure, had been told to the
Sagamore of the Wampanoges, as well as to Coubitant and Miantonomo; and
suspicions had arisen in the breast of Masasoyt, which he vainly strove
to infuse into his more enlightened and trustworthy son, Mooanam.
Nothing that his father could say had any effect in weakening the
friendship entertained by the young Sachem, and his brother Quadequina,
towards the emigrants; and it was owing to this steady friendship that
they were made acquainted with the altered feelings of the Sagamore in
time to prevent their ripening into open hostility.
Mooanam communicated to the President the doubts and suspicions that
had taken possession of his father's mind, and advised him immediately
to send the faithful and devoted Hobomak to Packanokick, to endeavor to
remove the evil impression, and restore his confidence in the Pilgrim
Fathers. He also convinced both Bradford and his council that the
conspiracy which Squanto had represented as already formed, and only
waiting the concurrence of Masasoyt to be carried into deadly effect,
was as yet in its infancy, and might, by judicious management, be
altogether broken up. The Pokanokit interpreter had greatly
exaggerated, in his report to the Governor, all that he had heard from
Coubitant while at the Narragansett village; and had persuaded him, in
spite of the opinion expressed by Rodolph, to believe not only that he
and his people had been cursed by the Powows, but also that the tribes
to which these satanic conjurors belonged were uniting for the common
purpose of attacking and destroying the British settlement.
All this was done by Squanto, with no serious intention of injuring his
new friends, but from a vain desire to make himself important, and show
the extent of his knowledge and sagacity. His vanity was, however, very
near proving fatal to him: for when the trusty Hobomak had explained to
the Sagamore the real motives and intentions of the settlers towards
the natives, and had convinced him that all the strange and mysterious
stories that Squanto delighted to tell were either pure inventions or
gross exaggerations, a second change was effected in the old Chief's
feelings, and he sent to demand that the faithless interpreter should
be immediately delivered up to him.
The Governor was extremely reluctant to comply with this demand, as he
well knew how cruel and how summary were the judgements of the native
Chiefs; and he, as well as the whole of the colony, felt a regard for
Squanto, notwithstanding his folly and his errors. Nevertheless, the
Pokanokit was a subject of the Sagamore, who had made an express
stipulation in his treaty with the settlers that any of his people, who
might take up their abode in the colony, should be given up to him
whenever he required it; and therefore Bradford felt himself compelled
to abandon Squanto to his fate.
The messengers who accompanied Hobomak on his return to New Plymouth
were loaded with a quantity of valuable beaver-skins, which they laid
in a pile at the Governor's feet, as a bribe to induce him to comply
with Masasoyt's demand. These the Governor rejected with indignant
scorn, observing that no man's life could be purchased from the
English; and that if he resigned the interpreter into the power of his
native sovereign, it was only because truth and justice required it,
and not from any base motives either of fear or advantage.
Then the messengers approached the wretched man, who stood calmly
awaiting the decision of the Governor; and he saw one of them draw from
his belt the knife that Masasoyt had commanded him to plunge into the
culprit's heart. But Squanto did not tremble. All the native
fortitude, so characteristic of his race, was manifested in this awful
moment; and the bystanders felt a respect for the Pokanokit that he had
never before inspired.
Gladly would each individual have interposed to save him; and
breathlessly they watched the movements of the President, whose signal
was to fix the moment of Squanto's death. Bradford hesitated: the word
trembled on his lips, when suddenly looking towards the sea from the
summit of 'the Burying Hill,' on which the assembly stood, he espied a
shallop bounding over the waves, and advancing directly towards the
shore beneath.
He made this a pretext--certainly, not a very well grounded one--for
delaying the execution of Squanto's sentence; and declared that he
would not give the fatal signal until he had ascertained the object and
the contents of the approaching vessel. This faltering on the part of
the Governor excited great wrath in the messengers of Masasoyt; and,
without any farther parley, they took up their beaver skins, and
departed to their home. Squanto's forfeited life was thus
providentially spared; and the conduct of Bradford was, through
Mooanam's good offices, overlooked b the Sagamore. But that life was
not greatly prolonged. Very soon after this event he was seized with
I virulent fever, while on a short journey with the Governor, and, in
spite of all the care and attention that were bestowed on him, he died,
much regretted by the whole colony.
The boat, whose seasonable approach had been the means of arresting the
fatal stroke, was found to have been sent from some English fishing
vessels, many of which now constantly frequented the shores of New
England. It conveyed to the colony an addition of several able-bodied
men, who were joyfully welcomed by the settlers, as laborers were just
then much wanted, both in the fields and in the increasing town. These
men were sent out by an English merchant named Weston, who had long
endeavored to encourage the colonization of New England; but from very
different motives to those which had actuated the Pilgrim Fathers, and
led them to forsake the comforts of a European home for the toils and
uncertainties of an American wilderness. A desire for profit appears to
have been the ruling principle in Weston's mind. He was, therefore,
very indifferent as to the moral character of the men whom he sent out
to join the emigrants, and was only solicitous to secure a quick return
of the money that he had expended: and, finding that the prospect of
gain from a connection with the New Plymouthers was doubtful and tardy,
he had resolved to found a colony himself.
For this purpose he had, some time previously, obtained a grant of a
portion of land in Massachusetts, and sent over sixty men to cultivate
it, in two ships, which he placed under the command of his brother-in-
law. The arrival of this fresh band of emigrants had proved a fruitful
source of trouble and annoyance to the first settlers, for they were
chiefly idle and profligate vagabonds, who had no settled occupation at
home, and no characters to sustain. Weston himself described them in a
letter to Bradford, as 'tolerably rude and profane.' And a friend of
the Pilgrims wrote from England to warn them against having any
connection with the new colony: and recommended them to have it
distinctly explained to the Indians, that they were a new and
independent society, for whose conduct and good faith they could in no
way be responsible.
Notwithstanding all these warnings, and the very unprepossessing
appearance of the new emigrants, the Plymouthers had shown more
kindness and hospitality than they had prudence and caution: and had
received their countrymen into their own settlement on their arrival in
America. They had even permitted on half of their number to reside at
New Plymouth during the whole summer, while the strongest and
healthiest had proceeded to Massachusetts to fix on a spot for their
settlement, and prepare habitations. They had decided on a place called
Wessagussett,[*] a little to the south of Boston; and thither they were
afterwards followed by their companions from New Plymouth. The long
residence of these men among the pious and high-minded Pilgrims had
not, however, made any salutary impression on their minds: and all the
kindness and hospitality they had received were most ungratefully
forgotten.
[Footnote: New Weymouth]
In various ways the new colony vexed and annoyed the men of Plymouth;
but in no way more seriously than by their conduct towards the natives,
which was so different to the just and upright dealings of the
Pilgrims, that the Indians began to lose their confidence in the white
men, and to suspect deceit and imposition where hitherto they had only
found truth and justice. Weston's colony was, indeed, scarcely settled
at Wessagussett, before complaints were sent by the Indians to their
friends at Plymouth, of the repeated depredations that were committed
by the new settlers, who were continually carrying off their stores of
corn, and other property: and these accusations were by no means
surprising to Bradford and his council, as they had already detected
them in many acts of theft during their stay at New Plymouth.
The harvest of this year was poor and scanty; and the great accession
to their numbers, caused by the visit of Weston's settlers, had
entirely consumed the stores of the Plymouthers, and reduced them again
to actual want. Joyfully, therefore, they hailed the arrival of two
ships from the mother country, laden with knives, beads, and various
other articles, that would be acceptable to the Indians in the way of
barter, and enable the settlers to purchase from them the necessary
supply of provisions, for which they had hitherto been compelled to pay
very dear in skins and furs. Meanwhile, the colony of Wessagussett was
in a still worse condition. They had quickly consumed all the food with
which the generous Plymouthers had supplied them, and had then stolen
everything on which they could lay their hands. They had also sold
almost all their clothes and bedding, and even their weapons; and were
brought to such extreme necessity that they did not refuse to do the
meanest services for the Indians who dwelt near their settlement, in
return for such means of subsistence as the red men were able to
furnish them with. For this condescension--so unlike the dignified yet
kind deportment of the Plymouthers--the natives despised them, and
treated them with contempt, and even violence. Thus early was the
British name brought into disrepute with the Indians, when men bearing
that name came among them for mere purposes of speculation and profit,
and ware not governed by the Christian principles of humanity and
justice that distinguished the earliest settlers in New England from
all those who followed them. Nor did the evil consequences of their ill
conduct rest with themselves. They fell also on the peaceably-disposed
colony of Plymouth, and were the means of involving them in hostilities
with the natives, which had hitherto been warded off by the kind and
judicious management of the Governor and his assistants.
The general state of peace which had, up to this period, been
maintained with the Indians, was greatly to be attributed to the bold
and decisive measures that were always adopted by Miles Standish, the
military chief of the little community, and the leader of every warlike
expedition. He well knew how to impress the natives with a due respect,
for he never tolerated the slightest injury or insult, and yet he never
permitted his men to be guilty of any act of injustice or oppression
towards the red men.