THE
PILGRIMS
OF
NEW ENGLAND:
A TALE OF
THE EARLY AMERICAN SETTLERS.
BY
MRS. J. B. WEBB,
AUTHOR OF “NAOMI,” “JULAMERK,” ETC.
PREFACE
In the following story, an attempt has been made to illustrate the
manners and habits of the earliest Puritan settlers in New England, and
the trials and difficulties to which they were subjected during the
first years of their residence in their adopted country. All the
principal incidents that are woven into the narrative are strictly
historical, and are derived from authentic sources, which give an
impartial picture both of the virtues and the failings of these
remarkable emigrants. Unhappily, some of these incidents prove but too
clearly, how soon many of these exiles 'for conscience sake' forgot to
practice those principles of religious liberty and toleration, for the
preservation and enjoyment of which they had themselves abandoned home
and kindred, and the church of their forefathers; and they tend to
lessen the feelings of respect and admiration with which their piety,
and their disinterested spirit, must necessarily inspire us. We cannot
but regret to find how early, in many of the Puritan communities, that
piety became tinged with fanaticism, and that free spirit degenerated
into bigotry and intolerance in their treatment of others, who had an
equal claim with themselves to a freedom of private judgement, and to
the adoption or rejection of any peculiar forms or mode of discipline.
It is hoped, that a story founded on the history of these admirable,
but sometimes misguided, men, may prove interesting to many who have
hitherto been but slightly acquainted with the fate of their self-
exiled countrymen; and may tend to remove the prejudice with which, in
many minds, they are regarded: for, while we remember their errors and
infirmities, we should also remember that their faults were essentially
those of the age in which they lived, and the education they had
received; while their virtues were derived from the pure faith that
they possessed, and which was dearer to them than aught on earth
beside.
KING’S PYON HOUSE,
HEREFORD
THE
PILGRIMS OF NEW ENGLAND.
CHAPTER I.
‘The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-hound coast:
And the woods against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches tost.
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er,
When a hand of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.’ HEMANS.
It was, indeed, a ‘stern and rock-bound coast’ beneath which the
gallant little Mayflower furled her tattered sails, and dropped her
anchor, on the evening of the eleventh of November, in the year 1620.
The shores of New England had been, for several days, dimly descried by
her passengers, through the gloomy mists that hung over the dreary and
uncultivated tract of land towards which their prow was turned; but the
heavy sea that dashed against the rocks, the ignorance of the captain
and his crew with regard to the nature of the coast, and the crazy
state of the deeply-laden vessel, had hitherto prevented their making
the land. At length the ship was safely moored in a small inlet,
beyond the reach of the foaming breakers; and the Pilgrim Fathers
hastened to leave the vessel in which they had so long been imprisoned,
and, with their families, to set foot on the land that was henceforth
to be their home. Cold, indeed, was the welcome which they received
from their adopted country; and cheerless was the view that met their
gaze, as they landed on a massy rock of granite, at the foot of a
precipitous cliff, and looked along the barren, inhospitable shore, and
over the dark waters which they had so lately crossed.
But hope was strong in the hearts of these exiles; and the faith that
had led them to seek these untrodden shores, had not deserted them
during their long and tempestuous voyage; and they looked upward
through the gloom and dreariness that surrounded them, and fixed their
trusting eyes on Him who had guided them in safety over the great deep,
and brought them at length to a resting-place. Their first act was to
kneel down on the cold rock, and offer up their prayers and praises to
that God for whose sake they had given up country, and friends, and
home, and to whose service they now dedicated themselves and their
children: and strikingly grand must have been that act of worship. The
manly voices of the sturdy Pilgrims rose in deep and solemn unison,
followed by those of the women and children, and resounded along the
silent coast, while the heavy urges of the receding tide kept up a
hoarse and monotonous accompaniment. Then arose a hymn of
thanksgiving--and the rocks and the neighboring hills re-echoed the
exulting strain, that seemed to drown the voices of the wind and the
waves, and to rise unmixed to heaven. It was the triumph of faith--the
holy and heartfelt expression of undying trust and confidence in God!
Surely, at that time, the Pilgrims were meet objects for the admiring
gaze of men and angels! But they were not always so.
It was on the shore of Cape Cod Bay that the new settlers had landed,
in the inlet now called New Plymouth Harbor: but this was not the place
of their original destination. They had intended to steer for the
mouth of Hudson's River, and to have fixed their habitation in that
less exposed and inhospitable district. But the Dutch had already
conceived the project, which they afterwards accomplished, of settling
in that part of the new continent; and it is supposed that the captain
of the Mayflower was bribed by them to convey the English emigrants
further to the north; so that the first American land which they beheld
was Cape Cod. They found that the place where they had landed was
beyond the precincts of the territory which had been granted to them;
and even beyond that of the Company from which they derived their right
of colonization; and after exploring hastily the neighboring coast, and
finding it dreary and unpromising, they again embarked, and insisted on
the captain's conveying them to the district which they had first
desired to reach. They sailed to the south, and many days were lost in
endeavoring to find a more convenient spot for their settlement: but it
was in vain. The shoals and the breakers with which the coast was
lined, presented obstacles that were insurmountable at that advanced,
and unusually inclement, season; and, weary and disheartened, they
returned to the place of their first landing. There they fixed their
abode, and there they founded the infant city of New Plymouth. It was a
desolate situation, and one that subjected the new settlers to many
trials and privations; for the nearest English settlements then
established were upwards of five hundred miles distant. Winter having
set in with more than common severity, they felt that no more time
could be wasted in seeking for a better spot, on which to build their
first American habitations. Sickness also had begun to show itself
among the little band of men, women, and children who were all
unaccustomed to the hardships and confinement of a long voyage; and it
was necessary to disembark with all possible speed, and erect huts to
shelter them from the daily increasing inclemency of the weather. For
this purpose, the forests of oak, pine, juniper, and sassafras, that
had grown undisturbed for centuries along the coast, furnished them
with abundant materials; and the woods soon echoed to the unaccustomed
sound of the hatchet and the saw, at which all the men, of every rank
and condition, labored unremittingly, while the women and children
gathered up the great muscles, and other shell-fish, which abounded on
the shore, and collected dry wood for firing.
But before we follow the settlers in the detail of their sufferings and
trials, and of their ultimate success and prosperity, it will be
needful to go back a few years, and consider the motives that led these
brave men to expose themselves and their families to such severe
hardships, and to abandon their home and their kindred. A brief glance
at their previous history will suffice for this purpose.
It is well known that the Puritans were greatly dissatisfied with the
state of the Church in England at the time when James the First
ascended the throne of this country. From him they hoped for protection
and encouragement; but in this expectation they were grievously
disappointed. The conference at Hampton Court proved how little
sympathy he entertained for their party; and the convocation which was
held soon after utterly all their hopes. Already a considerable number
of these dissenters had joined themselves into what they called a
_'Church Estate,_ pledged to walk in God's ways,' and to renounce the
evil passions of the world. They had protested against the episcopal
form of church government, and declared their approval of the
discipline and the forms adopted by the Church of Geneva, and also of
that established in the Netherlands. In order to enjoy the liberty in
ecclesiastical matters which they so greatly desired, they made up
their minds to retire to Amsterdam, under their excellent and respected
pastor, John Robinson; and this project was effected by the greater
number of their party; though some were discovered before they could
embark, and were detained and imprisoned, and treated with much
severity. Ultimately, however, they all escaped, and remained
unmolested at Amsterdam and the Hague, until the year 16O8, when they
removed to Leyden with their pastor, where they resided for eleven
years, and were joined by many others who fled from England during the
early part of the reign of James.
These men now felt that their only hope of enjoying perfect religious
liberty, and of establishing a church according to their own dearly-
loved principles, lay in a voluntary exile. Their English prejudices
made them shrink from continuing to dwell among the Dutch, who had
hitherto given them a hospitable asylum; for they feared that, by
frequent intermarriages, they should eventually lose their nationality;
and they resolved to seek a new home, where they might found an English
colony, and, while they followed that mode of worship which was alone
consistent with their views and principles; might still be subjects of
the English crown, and keep up an intercourse with the friends they
dearly loved, and the land where their forefathers had lived and died.
The recent discovery of the vast continent of America, in several parts
of which the British had already begun to form colonies, opened to them
a field of enterprise, as well as a quiet refuge from persecution and
controversy; and thither the Puritans turned their eyes. Nor were they
the first who had taken advantage of the unoccupied wastes of the New
World, and sought in them an asylum from intolerant oppression. Already
a numerous band of French Huguenots had retired thither, under the
conduct of their celebrated Calvinistic leader, De Monts, who was
invested with the government of the district lying between Montreal and
Philadelphia, by a patent from his sovereign, Henry the Fourth. No
traces of this colony now remain, while those planted by the English
Puritans have taken root in the American soil, and flourished so
greatly, that a few years ago their descendants were found to amount to
4,000,000: so remarkably has the blessing of God, at least in temporal
matters, been bestowed on an enterprise which was, doubtless,
undertaken in dependence on His protection; and was carried out with
that fortitude and resolution which are the results of sincere piety
struggling with deep adversity.[*]
[Footnote: For this account of the cause which led to the emigration of
the Puritans, and the manner in which they effected it, the authoress
is chiefly indebted to Marden’s ‘History of the Puritans,’ and Talvi’s
‘History of the Colonization of America.’]
The idea of retiring to the shores of America was first suggested to
his followers by their pastor, John Robinson, whose influence over his
flock was almost unexampled. This influence was derived from the purity
of his life, and the holy consistency of his conduct. He was possessed
of a gentle temper; and the strictness of his religious principles was
united with a spirit of toleration towards others, which was too little
felt or practiced in those days, and which was not, as is too often the
case, changed into bitterness by the sufferings that he had himself
experienced. Well had it been for those who professed to be guided by
his example and advice, and who left the shores of Europe with the
sanction of his counsel and his blessing, if they had carried with them
the truly Christian spirit of their respected minister, and had
suffered that spirit to guide them in the formation, and during the
growth, of their infant church in America! But, as we shall presently
see, this was not the case: the mercy and toleration which the Puritan
exiles had vainly asked at the hands of their brethren at home, they
denied to others who differed from them; and, consequently, while they
have so greatly prospered in the things of this world, in religion they
have evidently declined.
Emigration being resolved on, the first step that was taken by the
Puritans, was an application to King James for an assurance of
protection and toleration in the new home which they desired to seek;
but this was more than the wary king would guarantee to them. All that
they could obtain was a vague promise, that so long as they conducted
themselves peaceably, they should not be molested; and, relying on this
promise, they immediately commenced a negotiation with the Virginian
Company, for the possession of a tract of land within the limits of the
patent which had been granted to them for colonizing that part of
America. This was easily obtained; for the Society had hitherto only
been able to occupy a few isolated spots of their extensive territory,
and, therefore, were willing to encourage fresh settlers.
The congregation over which Robinson presided, amounted, at the time of
their intended emigration, to upwards of three hundred in number; but
their resources were inadequate to the expense of moving all together,
and it was therefore arranged that only a part of the flock should sail
at first, under the guidance of William Brewster; while the rest should
remain at Leyden, under the care of their pastor, and wait for the
report of their friends before they followed them to their chosen place
of exile.
The names of the vessels which were engaged to convey the Pilgrims from
the shores of Europe, were the Mayflower and the Speedwell--names still
cherished by heir descendants. When they were ready for sea, the whole
congregation assembled themselves together, and observed a solemn fast,
which concluded with prayer; and Robinson preached to them from Ezra
viii, 21: 'Then I proclaimed a fast there, at the river of Ahava, that
we might afflict ourselves before our God, to seek of him a right way
for us, and for our little ones, and for all our substance.' He
afterwards addressed them in a deeply impressive speech, in which he
earnestly deprecated all party spirit and bigotry, and exhorted them to
be guided only by the pure doctrines of God's Word.
'I charge you,' said this truly Christian and evangelical minister,
'that you follow me no further than you have seen me follow the Lord
Jesus Christ. The Lord has more truth yet to break forth out of his
Holy Word. I cannot sufficiently bewail the condition of the reformed
churches, which are come to a period in religion, and will go, at
present, no further than the instruments of their reformation. Luther
and Calvin were great and shining lights in their times, yet they
penetrated not into the whole counsel of God. The Lutherans cannot be
drawn to go beyond what Luther saw; and the Calvinists, you see, stick
fast where they were left by that great man of God.[*] I beseech you,
remember it--'tis an article of your church covenant--that you shall be
ready to receive whatever truth shall be made known to you from the
Word of God.’
[Footnote: See ‘Remarks on the Dangers of the Church,' by Rev. Edward
Bickersteth.]
The congregation then repaired to the house of their pastor, and
partook of a farewell repast together; after which they proceeded to
Delft Harbor, and there the Pilgrims embarked. Again their minister
offered up fervent prayer in behalf of this portion of his flock who
were about to encounter the dangers of a long voyage, and to seek a
home in an almost unknown land--and then in deep silence they parted.
'No cheers or noisy acclamations resounded along the shore, for such
demonstrations were little in accordance with the usual serious habits
of the Puritans, and still less so with the feelings of sadness which
now oppressed their hearts. But a volley of small shot, and three
pieces of ordnance,' writes Winslow, one of the emigrants, 'announced
to those on shore the hearty courage and affectionate adieus of those
on board; and so, lifting up our hands to one another, and our hearts
to the Lord, we departed.'
Thus the Pilgrims set sail, with mingled feelings of hope for the
future, and regret for what they left behind; and greatly would their
sorrow have been increased, had they known that they would never again
behold on earth the countenance of their much-loved pastor. They fully
anticipated his following them, with the rest of their brethren, as
soon as they should have found a suitable place of settlement for the
whole congregation. But poverty and other obstacles detained him in
Europe, and he terminated his useful and exemplary life at Leyden.
The emigrants had not proceeded far on their voyage, when it was
discovered that the Mayflower, commanded by Captain Jones, was in need
of some repairs; and the two vessels put into Dartmouth--not to sail
together again. The captain of the Speedwell declared that he was
afraid to encounter the voyage; and from this, or some other motive, he
positively refused to proceed any further. Several of the passengers
also, had already begun to feel disheartened, and they returned with
him to London, and abandoned the enterprise altogether. Doubtless, the
Pilgrims bad no cause to lament the departure of these faint-hearted
comrades; but it occasioned them much present inconvenience, for, not
being able to procure another vessel to convey the remainder of the
passengers who had embarked in the Speedwell, they were all obliged to
be crowded into the Mayflower, which sailed again on the sixth of
September, 1620, with considerably upwards of a hundred men, women, and
children on her narrow decks, in addition to her own crew of seamen.
After a very tedious and tempestuous voyage, they came in sight of the
American shores on the eighth of November; and, as we have already
seen, they landed three days afterwards in Cape Cod Bay, and eventually
founded the city of New Plymouth at the place of their disembarkation.
A portion of the granite rock on which the Pilgrim Fathers first set
foot has since been removed from the coast, and placed in front of'
‘The Pilgrim's Hall,' enclosed in an iron railing; and the anniversary
of their landing, afterwards called Forefather's-day, has ever since
been observed by their descendants as a day of solemn festivity, in
remembrance of the mercy of Providence, which led them safely through
so many difficulties and dangers; and permitted them to find a new
home, and a new country, and to bring their enterprise to such a
prosperous issue.
It is with the first period of their establishment on the uncultivated
shores of North America that our story commences; and it is connected
with the sufferings and privations which were so patiently endured, and
the difficulties which were so resolutely overcome, by these devoted
men, before they had taken root in their new settlement, or gathered
around themselves and their families the comforts which they had
abandoned in their own land for conscience sake. Many trials awaited
them ere prosperity became their portion, and ere they could feel
either rest or security in the wild regions where they had sought a
refuge: and these trials will be brought more distinctly to our minds,
if we view them in connection with some of the individuals of the
expedition, and follow the fortunes of one family more particularly.
This family we will call by the name of Maitland, and endeavor in their
somewhat imaginary history, to describe the mode of life, and some of
the joys and sorrows--the difficulties and successes--of the Pilgrim
Fathers.
Owing to the many delays which the emigrants had experienced, a severe
winter had set in before they landed, and had fixed a spot for their
permanent abode; and they found themselves exposed to the inclemency of
a North climate, with no other shelter than a few tents, besides that
which the vessel continued to afford. In haste they felled the trees of
the neighboring forests; and in haste they constructed the village of
log huts which was to be their present abode, and which, ultimately,
grew into the flourishing and wealthy city of New Plymouth. In the
erection of this hamlet, no head was so fertile in plans and
expedients, and no arms were so strong to execute them, as those of
Rodolph Maitland, the head of the family in whom we are specially
interested. He was a younger member of a very respectable family in
the North of England, and had passed his youth and early manhood in the
service of his country as a soldier. This profession, however, became
distasteful to him when the religious dissensions which troubled the
land called on him, at times, to obey his commander in carrying out
schemes of oppression which were contrary both to his feelings and his
principles. His marriage with Helen Seatown, the daughter of a
nonconforming minister, increased his repugnance to bearing arms, which
might be turned against the party to which he was now so closely
connected; and he threw up his commission, and soon afterwards
accompanied his father-in-law to Holland, and joined the congregation
of the respected Robinson at Leyden.
Here he continued to reside until the resolution to emigrate was formed
by the Puritan refugees, when he was among the first to embrace the
proposition of the pastor, and to lend all the aid which his
comparative wealth, and the influence of his connections in England,
enabled him to offer in furtherance of the enterprise. His father-in-
law had died soon after his arrival at Leyden; but his amiable and
devoted wife was most willing to follow him in his voluntary exile, and
to take her children to the New World, where she hoped to bring them up
in the same principles of pure evangelical religion which she had
learnt from her own parents, and which were dearer to her than home or
friends or aught on earth besides.
At the time when the Pilgrims reached America, the Maitland’s family
consisted of two sons, Henrich and Ludovico; the elder of whom was
sixteen years of age, and the younger about seven; and one little girl
between ten and eleven, named Edith. In the thoughtful seriousness of
his eldest boy, which was united with great intelligence and spirit,
and a manly resolution beyond his years, Rodolph saw his own character
again depicted; and Helen proudly hoped that her Henrich would one day
manifest all those qualities of mind and person by which his father had
first won her admiration and love, and by which he had since gained the
esteem and affection of all who were in any way connected with him.
Henrich was now old enough to understand, and almost to appreciate, the
motives which had induced his parents and their companions to become
exiles from home: and his young heart exulted in the resolution that
freed him from the cold formality of Dutch manners, and opened to his
adventurous spirit a prospect of liberty and enterprise, far better
suited to his inclination and character. Religious freedom he desired,
because he had been taught that it was his rightful privilege, and that
the want of it had occasioned those troubles which first drove his
parents and friends from their native land. But personal freedom he
yearned for with his whole soul; and the wild shores of New England,
and the depths of the unexplored forests that now met his eager gaze,
filled his ardent mind with anticipations of adventurous joys hitherto
unknown to him. These anticipations were destined to be fulfilled, ere
long, in a manner which he neither foresaw nor desired.
His brother Ludovico was a playful child, too young to share all the
feelings of the earnest Henrich, who always acted as his guide and
protector during their sports and rambles; but in the gentle little
Edith he found a kindred spirit, and a heart that could sympathize in
all his joys and sorrows. Young as she was, Edith felt the influence of
her brother's character; and she looked up to him with feelings of
devoted love and admiring pride. She was his constant companion, and
his ever-ready assistant in all his difficulties. This had been very
much the case during their residence in Holland; but on their arrival
in New England, Edith was left still more to her brother's guidance.
Their parents were necessarily too much occupied with the cares end
anxieties which their new situation brought upon them, to devote much
time to their children; and when the light labors in which Henrich and
Edith were able to render any assistance were over, they and Ludovico
amused themselves by wandering along the shore in search of shells and
seaweed; or else they followed the wood-cutters into the forest, to
seek for such flowering plants as still were to be found in the more
sheltered spots, and to transplant them to the garden that was to
surround and embellish their rude dwelling.
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.
These hours were not unimproved by Henrich. His character was formed,
and his principles were fixed, and his mind and spirit grew strong and
ripe beyond his years. Never were these hours of peaceful happiness
forgotten; and often amid the strange and stirring scenes which it was
his lot in after-life to witness and to share, did he bless the over-
ruling providence of God, which had laid him on a bed of pain and
weakness, that he might learn lessons of piety and of usefulness, which
otherwise he would never have acquired.
It was while they were thus happily engaged one afternoon, when Henrich
was slowly recovering his strength, that the elder and his young
audience were startled by wild and discordant sounds, mingled with
cries of fear, which proceeded from the outskirts of the straggling
village, and seemed to be approaching. Henrich raised himself on his
bed, and a look of terror overspread his countenance, as he exclaimed:
'It is the war cry of the savages! O! I know it well! Go, Mr.
Brewster, fly! save my mother. I will follow you.'
And the brave boy tried to leap from the couch, and reach his father's
sword, which hung against the wooden walls of his chamber. But it was
in vain; the wounded leg refused to bear his weight, and he was forced
to relinquish his design. Brewster, however, snatched the sword, and
drawing it, rushed from the hut, leaving Edith and Ludovico clinging
with trembling hands around their brother.
Henrich's fears proved but too true. No sooner had the elder traversed
the enclosure that surrounded Maitland's dwelling, than he beheld
Helen, and several of the other women who had gone out to assist their
husbands in the lighter parts of their agricultural labors, flying in
terror and confusion to their huts, while the men were engaged in close
combat with a party of native Indians. The same war-cry which had rung
on their ears in the first encounter told Rodolph and his comrades that
these savages were of the same tribe, and probably the same individuals
from whom they had escaped with such difficulty on that occasion. They
were right; for it was indeed a band of the Nausetts, who, headed by
their Chief, had come to seek revenge for the loss they had sustained
at their former meeting. The warrior whom Rodolph's musket had laid
low was Tekoa, the only son of the Nausett chief; and he was resolved
that the white man's blood should flow, to expiate the deed. He knew
that the son of the stranger who had slain his young warrior had been
wounded, and, as he hoped, mortally; but that did not suffice for his
revenge, and he had either suddenly attacked the settlement, in the
hope of securing either Rudolph himself or some of his comrades, that
he might shed the white man's blood on the grave of his son, and tear
off their scalps as trophies of victory.
The settlers who now contended with the savages were but few in number,
for many of the men lay sick, and many had died; and they were mostly
unarmed, except with their agricultural implements. Rudolph and a few
others had short swords, or dirks, attached to their girdles, and with
these they dealt blows that told with deadly effect on the half-naked
bodies of their foes; and the good broad-sword that Brewster quickly
placed in Maitland's hand, was not long in discomfiting several of the
Indians, who had singled him out, at the command of their Chief, as the
special object of their attack. Meanwhile, many of the women, and such
of the invalids as had power to rise, had again left the huts, and
borne to their husbands and friends the arms which had been left in
their dwellings; and in spite of the arrows and darts of the Indians,
by which several of them were wounded, they continued to load the guns
for the combatants while the conflict lasted. Happily this was not
long. The _fire-breathing_ muskets struck terror into the ignorant
savages; and when two or three of their number had fallen, they turned
to fly; first, however, catching up the bodies of their comrades, which
they carried off to ensure their honorable burial, and to save them
from the indignities which they supposed the pale-faces would heap on
the dead.
In vain their Chief endeavored to rally them, and compel them to
return to the conflict. In vain he waved his battle-axe on high, and
shouted his war-whoop, Woach! woach! ha, ha, hach, woach!' A panic had
seized his followers, and they fled precipitately into the forest from
they had issued, so suddenly and so fiercely, to the attack. One
warrior stood alone by the Chief. He was young and handsome, but his
countenance was dark and sinister and an expression of cunning was
strongly marked in his glittering deep-set eyes and overhanging brows.
He saw that it was hopeless to contend any longer with the powerful
strangers, and, by words and actions, he was evidently persuading the
Chief to retire. The settlers had ceased to fire the moment that their
enemies fled; and there was a deep silence, while every eye was fixed
on the striking figure of the enraged Chief, whose every feature was
distorted by excited passions. He stood with his tomahawk uplifted,
and his tall and muscular figure in an attitude of command and
defiance; while, in a loud and distinct voice, he uttered a vow of
vengeance, the words of which were unintelligible to the settlers,
though the meaning could easily be guessed from his looks and gestures.
Then he hung his battle-axe to his gaudy belt, and pointing his hand at
Rodolph, he retired slowly and majestically like a lion discomfited but
not subdued, to seek his people and to upbraid them with their
cowardice.
This attack of the Indians effectually destroyed all feelings of
security in the minds of the settlers. Henceforth they were obliged,
like the Jews of old, to go to their labor every man with his sword
girded to his side, and continually to hold themselves in readiness for
a sudden assault. The pestilence continued to rage, and the scarcity of
food increased to such a degree, that for several weeks no bread was to
be been in the settlement. The governor, Mr. Carver, exerted himself
with zeal and benevolence to lesser the misery of his people; but with
so little effect, that when the spring at length set in, and the
captain of the Mayflower prepared to return to England, the little band
of settlers was found to be reduced to one half the original number;
and these were weakened by illness, and by want of proper nourishment.
But great as were their difficulties and sufferings, their faith and
resolution never failed; and when the Mayflower again set sail for
England, not one of the fifty emigrants who remained expressed a desire
to return.