The Pilgrims of New England - Mrs. J. B. Webb
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Onward she pressed in silence but her soul was pleading eloquently with
God. Soon Edith checked her suddenly, and exclaimed, as she stumbled
over something in the pathway, 'Oh mother, here are Henrich's tools;
and there I see Ludovico's basket full of moss! This is the spot to
which my brothers were coming; and yonder is the old tree, with the
white flowers hanging on it, that Henrich wished to plant by my bower.
It must have been here that the Indians seized him while he was at
work.'
That part of the wood was more light and open than the rest of their
way had been; and Helen hastily surveyed it, that she might be able to
guide the Wampanoges thither, and point out to them where to commence
the pursuit. Again she resumed her way; and, regardless of fatigue, she
never paused again until she reached the border of the quiet and lonely
lake, on which the rising moon was now shining in all her silvery
splendor. The huts of the friendly natives stood out, clear and dark,
on the level shore of the lake, and Helen and her weary child soon
reached them, and hastened to Mooanam's lodge. There they found the
Chief, and his interesting young wife and children, sitting on the
matted floor, listening with deep attention to the words of life and
salvation which Brewster was reading and interpreting to them from the
Holy Scriptures. The hurried entrance of Helen startled and alarmed
them; for her countenance plainly told them, that some calamity had
occasioned her unlooked-for appearance at such an unwonted time.
With breathless haste she told her sad errand, and Brewster quickly
explained her words to the Chief, Mooanam seized his arms, and rushed
from the lodge, calling, in a loud and commanding voice, on his people
to arm themselves and accompany him in the pursuit of the cruel and
vindictive Nausetts. All was hurry and excitement throughout the
village, and every swarthy warrior pressed forward, and desired to
share in the expedition to save their young English favorite. It was
necessary, however, to leave a strong party at the village, to guard it
from any act of treachery or violence on the part of their malicious
rivals, who, it was now evident, were still lurking in the
neighborhood; and, while Mooanam was selecting his party, and arranging
his plans, a clear shrill voice was heard from the margin of the lake,
crying, 'The canoes! the canoes! Quadequina is returning.'
'The canoes, the canoes!' resounded through the crowd; and Helen's
heart hounded with joy and gratitude. Rodolph was near; and all would
yet be well.
Little Nepea had led Edith to the shore while the warriors were
discussing their plans; and in a strange mixture of English and Indian
words, the children were conversing on the recent sad event. The quick
ear of the young savage had detected the splash of oars at the farther
side of the lake, and he instantly discovered the three canoes that
were leaving the opposite coast, and emerging from the deep shadow of
the overhanging trees. He had raised that joyful cry; and now all the
inhabitants of the village rushed down to the shore to welcome their
brethren, and to tell the startling news.
Nearest to the brink stood Helen and her little girl, closely attended
by Mooanam and the Squaw-Sachem Apannow, who shared her impatient
anxiety for the return of the embassy, that they might have the benefit
of Maitland's counsel, and also obtain an addition to their forces. The
elder, Brewster, was deeply moved at the misfortune that had befallen
his young friend, Henrich. But he knew that not a moment was to be
lost! and, while all others were crowding down to the lake side, he
busied him self in arranging the volunteers for the pursuit, and seeing
that his own musket was in a proper state for active service.
The canoes sped swiftly across the moonlit waters; and as they neared
the shore, Rodolph perceived the forms of his wife and daughter,
surrounded by the dark Indians, and ready to receive him. But he felt
only pleasure at this unexpected and welcome meeting. No feeling of
alarm crossed his breast, until he drew near enough to distinguish
Helen's countenance; and then he knew that she had come with evil
tidings. He sprang from the canoe, eager to hear the truth: but all
the firmness and courage which had so wonderfully sustained his wife
while she was obliged to act for herself, forsook her the moment she
felt herself supported by her Rodolph's arm; and faintly exclaiming, 'O
my son, my son!' she fainted; while little Edith burst into tears, and
sobbed out her brother's name.
'Tell me, in the name of heaven, what all this means!' exclaimed
Maitland, turning a look of eager inquiry on Mooanam, who stood with
characteristic silence and apparent composure, waiting the proper
moment to speak. 'Tell me,' cried the distracted father again, 'what
dire calamity has befallen my boy?'
'My heart is dark for you,' replied the Sachem, in a voice of perfect
calmness, though a tear glistened in his coal black eye, and his brow
was clouded by anxiety. 'My heart is very dark for you, and for your
young warrior--for, boy as he was, he was a brave at heart.'
Mooanam spoke in his native tongue, intermixed with English words and
phrases, which he had learned from Brewster and the other settlers; but
the father's heart comprehended all he said, and needed no interpreter.
'Is my son dead, then?' he exclaimed. 'Has accident or violence
quenched his young spirit?'
'Worse than dead,' slowly replied the Sachem; and he looked pityingly
at Helen, who now began to recover her senses. 'Leave your wife to the
care of the squaws,' he added, 'and come with me to the wise man
yonder, and he will tell you all.'
He led Rodolph to where Brewster was occupied in making preparations,
and soon the afflicted father was made acquainted with the fate of his
son. He felt indeed that death--a calm and peaceful death beneath his
own accustomed roof, and with those he dearly loved around him--would
have been a far happier lot for Henrich than that to which he now
feared he might be doomed--than that which, possibly, his darling boy
was at that moment enduring at the hands of his cruel and malignant
enemies.
The thought was maddening. But there was still a hope of saving him by
speed and resolution; and he urged the Sachem to depart instantly. One
moment he gave to visit and endeavor to cheer his wife, who now lay
powerless and weeping in Apannow's lodge; and then he joined the Chief,
who, with Brewster and a band of picked men, were ready to accompany
him. The pastor had already learnt from Edith all that she could tell
relative to the spot where her brother had been captured; and to that
spot the pursuing party hurried, and soon discovered the basket and the
tools that told where the boys had been so rudely interrupted in their
work. Quickly the trodden grass, and the broken branches of the thick
underwood, showed in what direction the boy had been dragged by his
captors; and on the track the Wampanoge warriors followed, like hounds
in the chase. But, alas! the Nausetts had had a fearful start of them;
and little hope existed in the breast of Mooanam that they could
overtake them, in time to avert the dreadful fate that he had feared
for Henrich.
The Sachem was himself an Indian, and he well knew the Indian desire
for retaliation and vengeance. He was, indeed, a man of a mild and
generous nature, and he belonged to a tribe less distinguished by
cruelty than the Nausetts. But still he felt that, according to the
savage code of the natives, blood must atone for blood, and he believed
that already the life of Henrich had probably been sacrificed in
expiation of his father's having slain the son of the Nausett Chief.
Still he led his warriors on, and neither paused nor spoke until the
party emerged from the thick wood, upon a little opening that was
lighted up brilliantly by the moon-beams. Here, where it was evident a
small temporary encampment had existed, and had only been very recently
and hastily removed, he stopped, and looked earnestly around. The poles
still stood erect which lied supported the tents of the Nausetts; the
fires were still burning; and many articles of domestic use lay
scattered about, which the hasty departure of the inhabitants had
probably prevented their removing.
Rudolph hurried through the camp in search of some sign of his son; and
his eager eye fell on the well-known tunic that Henrich was accustomed
to wear. He snatched it up hastily; and then, with a deep groan, let it
fall again upon the ground. The breast of the tunic was pierced through
in several places, and the whole dress was stained with blood--blood
that was newly shed.
Maitland pointed to this evidence of his son's death! and when the
Sachem had examined it, he set his teeth together, and drew in his
breath with an oppressed, hissing sound, as of severe pain.
'It is over, my friend,' he said, in a low deep voice to Rodolph--'it
is over; and we are too late. Naught now remains but to take revenge--
full, ample revenge. Let us follow the miscreants.'
Rudolph turned, and looked at him. He fixed on him such a searching
gaze--a gaze so full of gentle reproof and of deep settled grief-that
the warm-hearted Chief stood silent, and almost abashed before his
Christian friend.
'Is it thus you have learned of Brewster?' said the sorrowing father.
'Is it thus that you are taught in that book which the Great Spirit has
dictated? The Father of us all has declared, "vengeance is mine; I will
repay "; and since we are too late to save my son, we will not commit
deeds of blood which his now happy and ransomed spirit would abhor.'
Mooanam was silenced, but not convinced. Inwardly he vowed vengeance
against those who had dealt so cruelly with the unoffending boy;
though, under similar circumstances, he would probably have acted with
the same spirit. But the Chief bad allied himself with the white men.
He loved and reverenced them; and he was resolved to avenge the wrongs
of Maitland, as if they had been his own.
Sadly and silently the party returned to the Indian village, where they
arrived at the break of day. We will not attempt to describe the
mother's anguish when she was made acquainted with the dreaded fate of
her son; but Helen was a Christian, and while her heart was bowed down
with crushing grief, her spirit strove to hush its rebellious
questionings, and to submit itself to the will of God.
'It is the Lord,' she meekly exclaimed: 'let Him do what seemeth Him
good!'
That morning she returned with her husband and Edith to the settlement;
and they were accompanied by Brewster, whose pious exhortations and
sympathizing kindness were invaluable to the bereaved and afflicted
parents. The grief of Edith was less capable of being suppressed; and
it broke out afresh when little Ludovico came to meet them, and
inquired for his brother. From the child they learnt, that while he and
Henrich were busily engaged in their several occupations in the wood,
two Indians had suddenly rushed from the thick brushwood, and seized on
his brother before he had time to fly. Ludovico was gathering moss at
some distance, but he saw what passed, and uttered a cry that attracted
the attention of the savages; and one of them east a spear at him with
such violence, that, missing its intended mark, it stuck firmly in a
tree close behind him. Seeing this, his noble and courageous brother
called out to him to hide among the bushes, and make his way home as
quickly as possible; and the Indians, eager to secure the prize they
had so long been watching for, hurried away through the forest,
dragging Henrich with them.
The murderous attempt made by these savages against the life of
Ludovico proved but too clearly that the destruction of Rodolph's
children was their object, and banished every hope that lingered in
Helen's breast; and this conviction of their cruel intentions was still
further confirmed by Janet's account of the look and gesture of the
warrior who attended his Chief when the Nausetts first assailed the
settlement. Rodolph had seen, and understood the action; and as he had
also learnt through his Wampanoge friends that Tekoa, the son of the
Nausett Chief, had fallen in the first encounter, he knew enough of
Indian customs to be aware that he, as the slayer, was a marked object
of their vengeance. He had, however, always concealed his suspicions
from Helen; and the only effect they had produced on him was causing
him, at that time, to prohibit his children from venturing unguarded
into the wood, more strictly than he would otherwise have done.
CHAPTER V.
'Surely the wrath of man shall praise thee: the remainder of wrath
shalt thou restrain.' PSA. lxxvi,10.
We will now, for a time, leave the settlement--where the sad news of
the capture and supposed death of Henrich had spread a general gloom
and consternation--and follow the subject of their pitying grief, from
the time that he was seized and made a prisoner in the hands of the
savages. They did not slay him; for the Lord had work and service in
store for the young missionary, and he suffered not a hair of his head
to be hurt.
Coubitant--for he was one of those whose patient vigilance had, at
length, been crowned by success--and his companion had hurried him at
their greatest speed through the wood, to the spot where their
temporary camp was pitched, and where several others of their tribe
awaited their return. A few minutes sufficed to remove the matting
that formed their tents, and to collect their arms and utensils; but
Coubitant well knew that the child who had escaped his cruelty would
soon alarm the settlers, and that an instant pursuit would follow. He
therefore, devised plan to deceive, and, perhaps altogether to check
the white men, at least for a time, by making them believe that the
death of the captive had already taken place. He would have instantly
gratified the feelings of his cruel and revengeful heart, and have shed
the innocent blood of Rodolph's son to atone for the death of his
friend, but that he feared to disappoint his Chief, who so earnestly
desired to imbrue his own hands in the blood of the slayer. He,
therefore, resolved on the stratagem we have described. He stripped off
the captive's tunic, and, after piercing it several times with his
dagger, he opened a vein in his own arm with the same weapon, and let
the hot blood flow freely over the torn vesture.
This done, he smiled a demon's smile, as he cast the tunic on the
ground, and thought with malignant pleasure of the anguish that its
discovery would occasion to his hated foe.
Henrich gazed in trembling wonder at this act; and when Coubitant again
approached him to bind his hands, he believed that he was about to
plunge that blood-stained knife into his beating heart. He was young,
and life was new and precious to him; and for a moment he shrank back,
while the blood curdled in his veins. But, young as he was, he was also
a child of God; and he knew that all events are governed by His
Almighty power, and over-ruled by His wisdom and love. So he was
enabled to lift up his eyes and his trusting heart to heaven, and to
await his expected fate with calmness. Coubitant saw his firmness, and
he wondered and admired. He placed the dagger in his belt and hastily
tying the captive's hands behind his back, he motioned to his
companions to follow, and struck into a narrow and almost
undistinguishable path.
Forcing Henrich to go before him, while he held the rope of twisted
grass that bound his hands he followed close behind, and placed his
foot in each print that the prisoner made, so as to destroy the
impression of the boy's European shoe. The other Indians did the same;
as exactly did they tread in one another's steps, that, when all had
passed, it seemed as if only one solitary traveler had left his track
on the soft ground.
Thus, 'in Indian file,' they traversed a belt of wood, till they came
out on a dry and sun-burnt plain, where their steps left no impression.
Coubitant then advanced to the side of his prisoner, and, taking his
arm in his powerful grasp, he compelled him to advance, at an almost
breathless speed, across the plain. In the wood, on the other side, he
allowed a short pause, and gave Henrich some water from a bottle made
of a dried gourd, which hung about his neck; and thus they traveled on,
with slight refreshment and little rest, until the sun arose in all his
splendor, and displayed to Henrich's admiring gaze the wild and
magnificent woodland scenery through which he was travelling. Under
other circumstances, he would keenly have enjoyed the novelty and the
beauty of the objects that met his eyes, so different from the
luxuriant, but flat and monotonous fields, and gardens, and canals,
that he so well remembered in Holland. Here all was wild and varied;
and all was on a scale of grandeur that inspired him with a feeling of
awe and solemnity, heightened, no doubt, by the fearful uncertainty of
his fate, and the thought that, perhaps, this was the last time that he
should look upon these glorious hills, and ancient forests, and wide
rushing rivers--the handiworks, and the visible teachers of God's
power. Something of American scenery he had become acquainted with in
his rambles round the Indian village, but only enough to make him long
to see more; and had he now been travelling by the side of his father,
or his friend Brewster, the elastic morning air, and the splendid and
ever-varying views, would have made his young heart bound with joy and
health.
As it was, the silent beauty of nature was not without its influence on
the captive boy. He seemed to feel more strongly the presence and the
goodness of his heavenly Father; and his young spirit was cheered to
endure his present desolate situation, and strengthened to meet
whatever future trials might await him. He had learnt from Brewster to
make himself understood in the Wampanoge language, and he resolved to
try whether his Nausett guide would reply to his questions in that
tongue. He therefore besought him to tell him whither he was leading
him, and for what purpose. But Coubitant deigned him no reply. He
understood him--for the Nausett language was but another dialect of the
Wampanoge--but he did not choose to inform the boy of his destination
at present, and he preserved a profound silence, and an expression of
sullen gravity.
It was not until the evening of the fourth day that the party reached
the Nausett village, which, as we have already observed, was situate
near the site of the 'first encounter'; and to which Tisquantum, and
the greater part of his warriors had returned, when Coubitant and a few
picked associates were left to carry out his schemes of vengeance.
Henrich was instantly conducted to the lodge of the old Chief; and
brightly did Tisquantum's dark eyes glitter when he beheld the son of
his enemy in his power. He praised the skill and the perseverance by
which Coubitant had thus procured him the means of revenge; and, taking
off his own brilliant coronet of feathers, he placed it on the head of
the proud and successful warrior, as a distinguished mark of his
approbation.
Coubitant was highly gratified; but his desire for vengeance was
stronger than his vanity, and forgetting the honor that had been
conferred upon him, he entreated the Chief to allow him instantly to
drive his spear into the boy's heart, or else with his own weapon to
take the life of the slayer's child.
'Not yet!' replied Tisquantum--and Henrich comprehended the full
purport of his words--'not today, Coubitant. I would pour out the
blood of the white youth with pomp and ceremony, as an offering to the
spirit of my murdered son. Let the boy be fed and refreshed: tomorrow,
at break of day, he shall die. Go. I have said it.'
'And will the Sachem give him into my charge until the morning dawns?'
inquired Coubitant.
Tisquantum fixed his piercing eye on the savage, and read his
malevolent feelings; and he calmly answered, 'No: the victim shall
bleed because his father's blood flows in his veins. But he shall not
be tortured; for his was not the hand that deprived me of my son. The
boy shall remain in my own lodge, and sleep securely for this night
beneath the same roof that shelters my last remaining child--my lovely
Oriana.'
Had the Chief observed Henrich's changing countenance, he would have
perceived that all he said was understood by the intended sufferer. But
he marked him not, and the boy commanded himself, and kept silence,
determined to await Coubitant's departure before he made one effort to
move the Chief to pity. He had, however, no opportunity of trying the
effect of his earnest appeal; for Tisquantum ordered one of his
attendants to remove him at once to the inner division of the lodge,
and to secure him there for the night: and then, motioning Coubitant to
retire, and resuming his pipe, he proceeded to 'drink smoke,' as
composedly as if his evening repose had not been interrupted.
But, notwithstanding his outward composure, the Nausett chief was not
unmoved by the event that had just occurred. The sight of the son of
him whose hand had slain his young Tekoa brought back the image of his
brave young warrior, as he stood beside him at the fatal burial-ground,
full of youthful ardor, to combat the invaders of his land, and the
supposed enemies of his race. He recalled his daring look as he mounted
the palisade, and placed in his unerring bow the arrow that wounded the
English boy. And then he seemed to hear again the sharp report of the
white man's musket, and to behold once more the sudden fall of his son,
bleeding and expiring, to the ground.
Tisquantum thought on that hour of anguish, when his duties as a chief
and a warrior had forbidden all expression of his grief; and he thought
of his return to his lodge, where only Oriana remained to welcome him--
for the mother of his children, whom he had loved with unusual
affection, was dead--and tears gathered in the Sachem's eyes. Oriana
had deeply mourned her brother's death; for since she had lost her
mother, she had been permitted to enjoy much more of his society than
had previously been allowed her; and her father, also, had seemed to
transfer to her much of the love that be had borne towards his wife.
Now his daughter was his only domestic tie; and his chief object in
life was to give her in marriage to a warrior as brave as her young
brother, and who would supply to him the place of his departed son.
At present, this prospect was not immediate, for Oriana was only in her
fourteenth year; but the Sachem was resolved that she should be worthy
of the hand of the greatest warriors of her tribe, and he took pains to
have her instructed in every art that was considered valuable or
ornamental to an Indian female. Already she could perform the most
elaborate patterns in native embroidery on her father's pouches and
moccasins; and her own garments were also delicately and fancifully
adorned in the same manner, with feathers, and shells, and colored
grasses. Besides this accomplishment, her skill in Indian cookery was
very great; and she could also use a bow and arrows, or cast a light
javelin, or swim across a rapid river, with a grace and activity that
delighted her proud father.
Oriana, too, was gentle--as gentle as her mother, and her influence
over Tisquantum bade fair to equal that which his much-cherished and
deeply regretted wife had exercised over him. That influence had ever
been employed in the cause of mercy! and many an enemy, and many a
subject, had lived to bless the name of the Squaw-Sachem Oriana, when
she had quelled the wrath of the offended Chief, and turned aside his
intended vengeance.
It was to the inner apartment of his spacious lodge, where his daughter
and her attendants were busily engaged in their domestic occupations,
that Henrich bad been led. His arms were still tied behind his back,
and the end of the rope that bound them was secured to a post in the
wall. The Indian who, at his chief's command, conducted him thither,
briefly informed Oriana that he was a prisoner, and desired her women
to look to his security: and then he left the captive to his strange
and inquisitive jailers.
When Tisquantum had emptied his long pipe, he bethought himself of the
young captive's position, and proceeded to his daughter's apartment to
give orders for his hospitable entertainment that evening, and his safe
lodgment for the night--that night which he was resolved should be his
last. As he approached the thick curtain of deer-skins that hung over
the aperture between the two apartments, he thought he heard a strange
sweet voice speaking the Indian language with a foreign accent; and
hastily drawing aside the heavy drapery, he was astonished to see his
prisoner, and intended victim, liberated from the cord that had bound
him, and reclining on the furs and cushions that formed Oriana's usual
resting-place; while his gentle Indian child knelt beside him, and
offered him the food of which he was so much in need. Henrich was
gratefully thanking her; and as the Sachem entered, he heard him
exclaim in mournful accents--