The Pilgrims of New England - Mrs. J. B. Webb
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As soon as a tolerable shelter had been obtained, by the erection of a
sufficient number of log-huts, to contain the families of the settlers,
it was resolved that a party of men should go on an exploring
expedition, and endeavor to ascertain the nature and resources of the
coast on which they had landed; and, also, whether it was inhabited by
any tribes of native Indians. Hitherto they had seen no human beings,
and they had remained undisturbed possessors of the soil. But they
could hardly expect that this state of things would long continue; and
they were anxious, if possible, to discover the native inhabitants and
natural possessors of the country, and to establish friendly relations
with them.
Sixteen of the Pilgrims volunteered for this expedition, headed by
Rodolph Maitland, whose military experience, and superior intelligence,
well fitted him to be the leader of the party. The rest of the men
remained to protect their families, and to complete the village; which
already presented a very respectable appearance, and promised to afford
a tolerably comfortable residence to the new settlers, until they
should have leisure and means to erect dwellings more in accordance
with their previous habits of life.
The government of the little colony was unanimously confided to John
Carver, who was elected President for one year; but he did not live
long to exercise his authority, or to enjoy the confidence reposed in
him by his fellow-settlers. During the short period, however, that he
was spared to them, he exerted himself successfully to promote the
welfare of the community, and to preserve peace and unanimity among the
members of which it was composed; and before the departure of the
exploring party, he called on all the Pilgrim Fathers to sign a
covenant, which had been drawn up during the voyage, and which
contained a statement of the peculiar religious principles of the
congregation, and also of the mode of civil government that they proposed
to establish in the colony. This government was not to be independent
of the mother country, for the Pilgrims regarded themselves as still
being the subjects of King James; and the patent which they had
procured to enable them to settle in New England was granted by the
Company to whom the king had assigned the right of colonizing that part
of North America. They, therefore, intended to be governed mainly by
English laws, and to keep up a constant and intimate connection with
their English brethren. It may be well here to mention that their plan
of civil government consisted in the election of a governor or
president by general vote, and of seven counselors to assist him; the
only privilege granted to the president being that his vote counted
double. This state of things continued for eighteen years, after which
time the growth of the colony rendered a change expedient, and each new
town that was founded sent delegates to a general court. It would,
however, be useless here to follow the political changes of these early
settlers, as it is only with their first form of government that our
story is concerned.
According to the habitual custom of the Pilgrims, the Sabbath which
preceded the sending forth this band of spies to search the land, was
observed with the utmost solemnity; for no press of occupations--no
necessity for haste--ever induced them to neglect this duty. For the
liberty of practicing their own mode of worship, they had sought these
shores; and, having been permitted safely to reach them, they used that
liberty, and were never unmindful of their religious privileges. Every
Sabbath was a day of sacred rest; and every undertaking was sanctified
by prayer; sometimes even, as we shall have occasion to observe, when
the undertaking was such as could hardly be supposed to deserve the
blessing of God. Still, there is every reason to believe that their
piety, as a body, was sincere; and while we condemn the sternness and
severity into which they were too frequently betrayed, we must yield
our heartfelt approbation to the self-denying resolution and
unflinching faith that were their governing principle and their ever-
actuating motive. Well have these principles and motives been
described by a late well-known poet, and well may we conclude this
introductory chapter with the last verse of that exquisite song, with
the first of which we commenced it:
'What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith's pure shrine.
Aye--call it holy ground
The soil where first they trod!
They have left unstain'd what there they found--
Freedom to worship God!'
CHIAPTER II.
'In much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, In distresses... As
having nothing, and yet possessing all things.'--2 COR. vi, 4, 10.
'Is it not much that I may worship Him,
With naught my spirit's breathings to control,
And feel His presence in the vast, and dim,
And whispering woods, where dying thunders roll
From the far cat'racts?' HEMANS.
With some anxiety the settlers saw the exploring party set out on their
hazardous enterprise. The season was far advanced, and drifting
snowstorms gave warning of the inclement winter that was rapidly
setting in. Still it was deemed necessary to make some investigation
into the nature of the country, and to endeavor to obtain, if possible,
a supply of provisions before the increasing severity of the weather
should render it impracticable to do so. But, above all, it was
desirable to ascertain what native tribes dwelt in the vicinity of the
settlement, and to use every means to establish friendly relations with
them; not only because such a course would be most in accordance with
the principles of the Gospel which the emigrants professed to hold and
to practice, but also because, in the present state of the infant
colony, they were altogether unprepared to resist any attack that might
be made on them by a large body of Indians.
Maitland led his party inland at first, and for two days they saw no
traces or human inhabitants; but on the afternoon of the third day, as
they were looking about for a convenient spot on which to encamp for
the night, some large and apparently artificial mounds of earth were
observed, scattered over an open glade in the forest. At the first
glance, they appeared like dwelling places; and, knowing something of
the habits of the Indians, Rodolph and two of his companions approached
them warily, fearing to surprise and irritate the inhabitants. But
after making a circuit, and ascertaining that these supposed huts had
no doorways, they went up to them, and found them to be solid mounds,
at the foot of which neatly plaited baskets, filled with ears of maize,
were placed. These were eagerly seized upon; and a further search being
made, several warlike and agricultural implements were discovered
buried beneath the surface of the earth. It was evident that these
mounds were native graves, and that they had recently been visited by
the tribe to which they belonged, who most probably resided in the
neighborhood. Therefore, to avoid exciting their displeasure and
jealousy, Rodolph caused all the weapons and other tools to be restored
to their places; and, in exchange for the corn, which was too much
needed to be left behind, he put into the baskets several strings of
beads, and other trifles, with which he was provided for the purpose of
barter, or as presents to the natives.
It did not appear either safe or desirable to remain near a spot so
sacred to the Indians; the party therefore moved further into the depth
of the forest, where they erected their tents, which consisted merely
of blankets supported on poles; and, lighting large fires, they slept
by turns, while half their number kept a vigilant watch. Their rest
was, however, undisturbed, either by lurking Indians or by prowling
beasts of prey; and at day-break they resumed their march, in the hope
of discovering the native camp. But their search was in vain; and
Rodolph determined to leave the forest, and return to the settlement
along the shore, hoping there to find some traces of the natives.
Before he and his comrades left the shelter of the wood, they fired
their muskets at the small game which abounded in every direction,
partly with a view to supply themselves with food, and partly to
attract the notice of any straggling Indians who might be wandering
near, and who would conduct them to their wigwams. But the echoes were
the only sounds that answered their reports, and it was clear that no
native camp was within hearing.
The place where Maitland and his little band reached the coast was
nearly twenty leagues from the settlement, towards the north, and has
since been known by the name of Angoum. Here they found two empty
huts, containing all the curiously-worked utensils used by the Indians
of that district--bowls, trays, and dishes, formed of calabashes and
carved wood or bark; and beautiful baskets constructed of crabshells,
ingeniously wrought together, with well-woven mats of grass and
bulrushes, dyed of various brilliant colors. The inhabitants had
probably gone on a fishing expedition, and would return in a few days,
as they had left behind them a considerable quantity of dried acorns,
which, at that period, formed a common article of food with these
children of the forest.
Rodolph suffered nothing to be taken from the huts, but proceeded along
the coast in a southerly direction and, at length, he perceived two
canoes at a considerable distance from the shore, containing several
Indians, who took no notice of the signals they made, but rowed rapidly
away on an opposite course. Finding it useless to linger any longer in
this part of the bay, Maitland led his party back to the settlement at
New Plymouth, taking accurate observations of the line of coast, and
communicated to President Carver all the information that he had been
able to collect. This was not very satisfactory; and the governor
resolved to send out a second party, well armed, who should proceed in
the shallop to the southern part of Cape Cod Bay. This expedition was
placed under the command of Captain Standish, who was regarded as the
military chief of the settlers; and Maitland again formed one of the
number. On this occasion he obtained permission to take Henrich with
him, as he wished the boy to become early inured to the hardships and
privations which it would probably be his lot to bear for many years,
and also to acquire habits of courage and vigilance that might be of
service to him hereafter. Henrich was delighted with this arrangement,
which gratified his desire for adventure, and also proved that his
father now placed some confidence in him, and no longer regarded him as
a mere child. His astonishment was great when first he beheld the
whales, those huge and fearful-looking monsters of the ocean, lifting
their gigantic heads above the waves, and lashing the surface to foam
with their powerful tails; or ejecting vast spouts of water like
fountains, from their upraised heads. These, and many other strange
objects, attracted his attention as the boat moved down the bay; but
all were forgotten in the absorbing interest with which he regarded,
for the first time, the wild red men that met his view as the boat
neared the shore, at a spot about eight leagues from New Plymouth,
called by the Pilgrims _Thievish Harbor._ Several of these savages, in
their strange attire of skins, and feathers, and woven grasses, showed
themselves among the rocks that stood above the landing-place; but,
regardless of the peaceful signs that were made to them by Captain
Standish and his crew, they hastily retreated and when the party
disembarked, not an Indian was to be seen. With much circumspection,
the captain advanced at the head of his resolute band, who all held
their muskets ready for action, if self-defense should compel them to
use them; but with a positive order from their commander to refrain
from any act of hostility so long as it was possible to do so.
This command could not, however, be long obeyed; for as the party
proceeded through the rocks and stunted trees that lined the coast,
they came in sight of a burial ground, similar to that which had been
discovered in the first expedition, except that, in this case, the
mounds of earth were enclosed by a strong palisade of upright poles,
bound together firmly at the top. Through the interstices of these
poles, Standish and his men saw the glittering eyes of the savages
watching their approach; and before they could decide whether to
advance or retreat, a shower of arrows was discharged, several of which
took effect, though not mortally. This wanton aggression roused the
spirit of the sturdy Englishmen, and regardless of the efforts which
Captain Standish made to restrain them, a volley of musket balls
instantly replied to the challenge of the red men; and the wild cries
that arose from the cemetery plainly told that they had not sped in
vain. Even Rodolph Maitland was surprised out of his usual calm
resolution and presence of mind; for he saw his son fall bleeding to
the ground, pierced through the leg by an arrow, and almost
involuntarily he fired off his musket at an Indian whose body was more
exposed than the rest, and whose greater profusion of ornament showed
him to be one of their chief warriors. Rodolph saw him fall from the
palisades on which he had climbed to take a better aim at the white
men; and instantly a gate was opened in the enclosure, and, with a
hideous yell, the savages rushed forth, brandishing their spears and
battle-axes, and shouting their war-cry, 'Woach! woach! ha, ha, hach,
woach!' Their number appeared to be about thirty men; and Standish knew
that his party, several of whom were already slightly wounded, could
not resist the fury of their attack. He therefore gave the word for an
instant retreat to the boat, as the only means of safety. His gallant
band would gladly have pressed on, and met the savages in close combat;
but they had promised to obey their leader, and reluctantly they
followed him to the shore.
The path by which they had emerged on the burial-place was narrow and
winding, and they were soon hidden from the sight of the Indians; but
they heard their wild whoop among the rocks and bushes, and knew that
they were in eager pursuit. Maitland had caught up his wounded boy in
his arms, and now bore him rapidly forward; but the weight of his
burden, and the roughness of the way, retarded his steps and, powerful
as he was, he could not keep up with his comrades, who were unconscious
that he had fallen behind them. He thought of his wife--of Henrich's
mother--and he pat forth his utmost strength. Still the war cry came
nearer and nearer; and Henrich, who had hitherto uttered no sound of
pain, or word of complaint exclaimed wildly--
'Father! I see them! There--there--they have entered the thicket, and
one has climbed the rock, and will soon overtake us. O, father, fly!
for his battle-axe is lifted up, and his eyes glare terribly'
Maitland's heart beat furiously. He could not pause, or turn, to look
at the coming foe; but his quick and ready mind was active in devising
some means of saving the life of his child.
'Load my gun, Henrich!' he exclaimed. 'I cannot long continue this
speed. Be steady, and be quick: our lives depend upon it!'
The gallant boy instantly obeyed the difficult command; and the instant
it was done, Rodolph dropped on one knee, supported his bleeding son on
the other, and taking a deliberate aim at the Indian, who was preparing
to leap from the rock into the path behind them, he fired. The upraised
arms of the savage fell powerless--the heavy axe dropped from his
hand--and, falling forward over the rock, he lay expiring in the narrow
pathway. The feathery coronets of several of his comrades were seen
above the bushes at some distance: and again the father raised his son,
who now hung fainting in his arms, and hurried, with renewed speed,
towards the shore. As he neared it, he met two of his companions who,
having reached the boat, had missed him and Henrich, and hastened back
to secure their retreat. It was a seasonable reinforcement, for
Rodolph's strength was failing him. He gave his boy into the arms of
one of his friends, and loading his gun, he stood with the other, to
defend the passage to the shore. The savages came on; and the white men
fired, and retreated, loading as they fell back, and again firing;
until their pursuers, either wounded or disheartened, came to a stand
still, and contented themselves with yelling their discordant war-cry,
and shooting arrows, which happily missed their aim.
The whole party embarked safely, and were soon beyond the reach of the
missiles which the Indians continued to discharge; and Maitland had the
joy of seeing young Henrich speedily recover his senses, and his spirit
too. It was evident that the arrows used by the red men on this
occasion were not poisoned, and no great or permanent evil was likely
to arise from any of the wounds received; but a spirit of hostility had
been established between the settlers and the Nausett tribe, to which
their assailants belonged, and Rodolph was a marked man, and an object
of determined revenge, to all who had shared in the conflict. The spot
where it took place was named _the First Encounter,_ in memory of the
event, and long retained that name: and the consequences of this first
combat proved to be equally calamitous to the savages, and to their
more civilized foes, for many subsequent years.
The exploring party returned to their settlement as speedily as
possible, being anxious to obtain medical relief for the wounded.
Helen Maitland and her children were wandering on the shore when the
boat first came in sight; and for several evenings the desolate coast
had been her constant haunt, after the necessary labors of the day were
completed. It had been with much reluctance that she had consented to
her husband's wish of taking Henrich on the hazardous expedition; and
his being of the party had greatly increased the anxiety and uneasiness
which Rodolph's absence always caused her. As the days passed on, this
anxiety became greater; and visions of fatal encounters with the
savages beset her naturally timid mind. Daily therefore she left her
hut, and wrapped in the mantle of fur with which her husband had
provided her before he brought her to brave a North American winter,
she paced backwards and forwards on the beach, looking out over the
dark waters, and lifting her heart in prayer for the safe and speedy
return of the wanderers. Edith and Ludovico accompanied her but they
could not share her anxiety. They looked, indeed, with eagerness for
the expected boat which was to bring back their much-loved father and
brother; but they soon forgot the object of their search, and amused
themselves by climbing the rocks, and gathering the shells which the
wintry waves now cast up in abundance.
They were thus engaged when Edith happened to glance to the south and
saw the long desired coming round a little promontory that concealed it
from her mother as she walked below. In an instant the treasure of
shells and seaweed was forgotten, and little Edith was bounding down to
the beach, followed by Ludovico.
'The boat mother, the boat!' she eagerly exclaimed, as she pointed in
the direction in which it was approaching; and in another moment she
and her little brother were at Helen's side, and all hastening to the
landing-place--that very granite rock on which they had first
disembarked on the American shore. The boat came rear; and as soon as
the crew perceived Helen and the children on the rock, they raised a
hearty cheer to tell her that all was well. She saw her husband
standing on the prow, and her heart bounded with joy; but she looked
for Henrich, and she did not see him, and fear mingled with her joy. A
few more strokes of the oars, and the boat glided up to the rock, and
Rodolph leaped on shore, and embraced his wife and children.
'Heaven be praised! you are safe, my Rodolph,' exclaimed Helen. 'But
where is Henrich?--where is my boy?'
'He also is safe, Helen. His life is preserved; but he is wounded, and
unable to come from the boat to meet you. Bear up,' he added, seeing
that she trembled violently, while the tears flowed down her blanched
cheeks 'you need not fear: the brave boy is maimed, indeed, but I
trust not seriously injured. He is weak from loss of blood, and must
not be agitated; therefore meet him cheerfully, and then hasten to make
the arrangements for his comfort that your scanty means will permit.'
Helen dried her tears, and forced, a smile to greet her wounded child,
who was now being lifted from the bottom of the boat, and gently
carried on shore by two of the men. His pallid countenance, and blood-
stained garments, struck a chill to her heart; but she concealed her
grief, and silenced the sobs and exclamations of the warm-hearted
little Edith and her terrified brother; and then, having affectionately
welcomed the almost fainting boy, she hurried away with the children to
prepare for his reception in the comfortless log-hut.
Assisted by Janet--the faithful servant who had nursed her children,
and followed her from England to Holland, and from Holland to America--
she soon arranged a bed for their patient; and Henrich smiled
cheerfully, though languidly, when he found himself again beneath the
humble roof that was now his home, and surrounded by all whom he loved.
His wound proved to be a severe one--more so than his father had
imagined; and the loss of blood had been so considerable that he was
reduced to extreme weakness. Now it was that Helen felt the absence of
all the comforts, and even luxuries, to which she had been accustomed
from childhood, but of whose loss she had hitherto never complained.
Henrich's illness proved a very long and painful one; and
notwithstanding the kindness of all her friends, and the attentions
paid by the rest of the settlers to the young patient--who was a
general favorite--it was difficult to procure for him either the food
or the medical attendance that his case required: and frequently his
parents feared that a foreign grave would soon be all that would remain
to them of their dearly-loved child.
To add to their anxiety and distress, an epidemic disease, of which
some signs had appeared in the settlement before the exploring party
set out, now increased to a fearful degree. The stores which had been
brought out in the crowded Mayflower were nearly expended, except such
a stock as Captain Jones considered necessary for the voyage back to
England: and a great scarcity of bread began to be felt. The animals,
which they procured by the gun and the chase, were not sufficient to
supply the wants of the settlers, and famine--actual famine--stared
them in the face, and increased the violence of the pestilence. Many
sank beneath the accumulated evils of hardship, privation, and
sickness, and the number of the little settlement was sadly reduced
during the inclement months of January and February.
The constant care which was bestowed on Henrich at length proved
effectual in healing his wound, and partially restoring his strength;
and his parents had, eventually, the happiness of seeing that the a
anger was past, and their son was restored to them. They also had cause
to acknowledge, with gratitude, that the affliction had been blessed to
him as well as to themselves. The elders of the community, who acted as
the pastors of the infant colony, were unwearied in their attentions to
their weaker and more distressed brethren. They were, indeed, the
physicians both of their bodies and souls; and Henrich was not
neglected by them. The excellent and venerable William Brewster was the
intimate and valued friend of Rodolph Maitland and his wife. He had
been both their friend and adviser for many years of comparative peace
and prosperity; and now that he shared their troubles and adversities,
his ready sympathy, and active kindness, rendered him dearer to them
than ever.
Brewster was a man whose character and position in life naturally gave
him great influence with the Pilgrim Fathers. He had received a liberal
education, and possessed a far greater knowledge of the world than the
generality of his companions in exile, having been brought up as a
diplomatist under Davison, when he was Secretary of State to Queen
Elisabeth. He was devoted to the cause of religious liberty; and it was
he who had assisted his friend, John Robinson, in withdrawing his
congregation from the persecution that threatened them in England, to a
peaceful asylum in Holland. At the time of the emigration to America,
he was already in the decline of life; but his energies were in no
degree weakened, and his zeal for the glory of God, and the good of his
fellow Christians, was unabated.
He desired to spend all his remaining years in promoting the welfare of
the colony, and in proclaiming the Gospel to the heathen; and while he
was ever mindful of the wants, both spiritual and temporal, of the
flock ever whom he was appointed to preside, until their pastor
Robinson could join them, he never forgot the grand object of his
voluntary exile, or ceased to pray that the Lord would be pleased to
open 'a great door and effectual,' before him, and enable him to bring
many of the savage and ignorant natives into the fold of Christ. In
all these plans he was warmly seconded by Edward Winslow, but hitherto
no such opening had appeared and the sickness and distress which
prevailed in the settlement gave full occupation to them and to their
brother elders. During all the period of Henrich's tedious illness, not
a day passed in which Brewster did not visit the suffering boy to
cheer him, to soothe him, and, above all, to prepare him for that
better world to which he then believed he was surely hastening. To
these visits Henrich looked forward with delight; and often, when
domestic business called away his mother and Janet, the minister would
remain with him for hours, seated on a low stool by of his bed, and
read to him, or talk to him, in a strain so holy and yet so cheerful,
that Edith would leave her work and softly seat herself on Henrich's
couch, that she might catch his every word, while little Ludovico would
cease from his noisy sports, and creep up on the good man's knee, and
fix his large soft eyes on his sweet and noble countenance.