CHAPTER IV

‘In your patience possess ye your souls.’ LUKE, xxi 19.

One evening, about the time that Helen began to expect the return of

the embassy from Packanokick, Henrich was unusually busy in the garden,

arranging the flower-beds, and beautifying Edith's bower, in which he

and his sister had planned a little fête to welcome their father home.

Their mother had learnt to feel, that while they were thus employed,

and within the precincts of their own domain, they were safe from every

danger. The Nausetts had not attempted any depredations for an unusual

length of time; and a feeling of security and peace had taken the place

of that constant watchfulness and anxiety, which had long proved so

harassing to the settlers. They began to flatter themselves that their

foes had retired from the neighborhood, and would no more return to

molest them, now that they knew the emigrants to be on such friendly

terms with their powerful rivals, the Wampanoges. But false was this

appearance of security; and vain was every hope that the Nausetts would

forego their designs of vengeance, or cease to devise schemes of

mischief against those by whom they thought themselves injured! They

did not, indeed, continue to attack the settlement openly, for they had

been taught to dread the British fire-arms and the British courage; but

they still continued to lurk in the neighboring forest, and to keep a

vigilant watch over all that took place at the settlement. Often were

the keen eyes of Coubitant and his most trusty followers fixed, with a

malignant gaze, on the dwelling of Rodolph and often were his

movements, and those of his family, carefully noted by these sagacious

savages, when no suspicion of their presence existed in the minds of

the settlers. They would climb by night to the summit of some lofty

tree that overlooked the village, and there remain all day unseen, to

obtain a knowledge of the habits and proceedings of their hated

enemies, and to devise plans for turning this knowledge to account.

The departure of the embassy to Packanokick was, consequently, well

known to Coubitant, and he resolved to take advantage of the absence of

so considerable a part of the British force, to execute, if possible,

his schemes of vengeance. What they were, and how he attempted their

accomplishment, will be presently seen.

Edith's bower looked gay with its spring blossoms and luxuriant

creepers, but Henrich was not quite satisfied with its appearance, and

he wished to place at its entrance a graceful climbing plant which he

had observed during his last walk to the Wampanoge village, and had

neglected to secure it on his return. It had been the desire of his

parents that he should not go into the forest which bordered their

grounds, except in the company of his father or some of his friends;

but the apparent departure of the Nausetts had caused this injunction

to be neglected of late, and he, and even his younger brother and

sister, had frequently strayed, unmolested, a short distance into the

wood, in search of flowers and fruits; and even Helen had ceased to

feel alarm.

'Edith,' said Henrich, on the evening of which we are speaking; 'I

think my father will return tonight, or tomorrow at the farthest; and I

must complete my task before he arrives. Your bower still requires a

few plants to adorn the entrance, and the seats of moss are scarcely

finished. Let us go into the wood, and procure what we want before the

sun sets, and our mother comes out to see what progress we have made.'

‘No, Henrich,' replied his sister; 'do not go this evening. I know not

why, but the wood looks dark and gloomy; there is no sunlight on the

path, and the shadows are so deep, that I could fancy every low bush

was a crouching Indian. I cannot go into the wood tonight.'

'You are timid, dear Edith. You never feared to go with me before; and

why should you fear this evening? See, the sun is still high in the

horizon, and the darkness is all in your own fancy. Come and see that

lovely creeper I told you of; and when you have admired it hanging from

the decayed trunk of the old tree that supports it, you shall help me

to remove it to your bower, where it will be the fairest flower that

grows, except the little fairy queen herself.'

Henrich caught his sister's hand, and kissing her playfully, attempted

to draw her from the bower. But she looked sad and anxious, and

replied--

'O, Henrich! do not ask me; my bower is fair enough, and I would not go

as far as that old tree tonight, for all the flowers that grow in the

forest. Stay with me, Henrich, dear. Our mother will join us soon, and

she will be alarmed if you are not here.'

The boy looked at his sister's pensive face with an affectionate smile:

but he was not to be diverted from his scheme.

‘Stay here, then, Edith,' he replied; 'and tell my mother that I shall

return in little more than ten minutes. Come, Ludovico,' he added,

calling his little brother, who was always ready to follow where

Henrich led. 'Come, Ludovico, you are not afraid of the shadows. Bring

your basket, and you shall gather moss while I dig up my creeper. When

Edith sees its drooping white flowers, she will forgive me for laughing

at her unusual fears.'

Edith said no more. She was sure that Henrich knew best; and she

silently watched him leave the garden, and enter the shade of the thick

forest, accompanied by her joyous little brother. Were her fears,

indeed, the mere creation of her own young fancy I or were they

occasioned by one of those strange and unaccountable presentiments

which have been felt so frequently as to justify the old proverb,

'Coming events cast their shadow, before them.’

Edith sat on the mossy seat that Henrich had formed in her bower. It

looked towards the wood, and the commanding situation which it

occupied, on a rising ground towards the center of the garden, enabled

her to overlook the green fence that enclosed the grounds, and to watch

the receding forms of her brothers, until they were hidden from her

sight by the winding of the path through the underwood. Still she

gazed, and her heart grew sad; and tears, which she could not check,

rolled down her cheeks. Did she again fancy? and did her tearful eyes

now convert the bushes into the figures of two dark Indians, in the

costume of the dreaded Nausetts? Surely those were human forms that

moved so swiftly and so silently from the dark stem of a gigantic oak,

and crossing the forest path, were instantly again concealed. Edith

wiped her glistening eyes. She held her breath, and feared to move;

but the beating of her young heart was audible. No sound met her

listening ear--no movement again was detected by her straining eye--and

she began to think that her own fears had conjured up those terrible

forms.

But what was that distant cry that sounded from the wood in the

direction in which her brothers had gone? And why does she now behold

Ludovico running wildly, and alone, down the path, with terror depicted

in his countenance?

Edith flew to meet him; but ere she reached him, the dreadful truth was

made known to her by his agonized cry.

'O, my brother! my brother! they have taken him, Edith; they are

dragging him away! They will kill him!' he shrieked aloud, as he threw

himself into Edith's arms, almost choked with the violence of his

feelings, and the speed with which he had fled.

What could Edith do? She dared not leave him, to be carried off,

perhaps, by some other prowling savage, who might still be lingering

near; and she could not carry him home. Slowly she drew him on, while

every moment seemed an hour, that delayed her from giving the alarm,

and sending friends to the rescue of her darling brother.

‘O! why did he leave me?' she murmured. 'Why did he go, when I knew

that danger was near?'

As soon as she had brought the panting and terrified Ludovico within

the precincts of the garden, she left him, and ran towards the house,

calling loudly on her mother, who rushed out on hearing her voice of

terror, and was instantly made acquainted with the appalling fact that

had occurred. Who shall tell the agony of her feelings, or describe the

sufferings of that mother's heart, when she knew that her child was in

the power of the savage and relentless enemies of the white men? She

was, indeed, ignorant of the peculiar vengeance that they desired to

wreak on her husband and all his race; but the malevolent character of

the Nausetts had been sufficiently manifested in their repeated and

destructive attacks on the settlement, and their willful desecration of

the graves of the exiles, to awaken the most poignant fears in her

breast. Rodolph, too, was absent, and Brewster was still at the

Wampanoge village; and where should she seek for succor or for counsel!

Hastily calling Janet, who was the only domestic at home, she committed

Ludovico to her care; and taking Edith by the hand, she hurried from

the garden, scarcely knowing whither she bent her steps, but in the

vague hope of meeting some of the settlers returning from their labors

in the fields, and inducing them to go to the rescue of her boy.

Onward she fled along the skirts of the forest, towards the fields of

her husband's friend Winslow, who, she well knew, would aid her with

all his power: but she found him not, and no human being appeared in

sight to listen to her appeal for succor. The sun was setting, and all

had returned to the village. What then could Helen do? To retrace her

steps, and seek her friends and neighbors in their homes, would be to

lose precious moments, on which the life and liberty of her Henrich

might depend. To strike into the depths of the forest, and cross the

belt of wood that divided the settlement from Mooanam's encampment

would be the quickest plan, and probably the most effectual, as her

Wampanoge friends would know far better than the settlers how to follow

in the train of the fugitives, and how either to persuade or to compel

them to release their prisoners. Helen had never dared to enter the

wood, except under the protection of her husband, even in the broad

light of day; and now the gloom of evening was gathering around her,

and the path that led into the wood was obscured by the shadows of the

thick foliage above. Bat where were all her fears and apprehensions?

She was unconscious of such feelings now. The timid woman's heart was

nerved to the occasion, and no danger could now make her shrink.

She turned rapidly into the narrow path, and pursued her way with a

firmness and decision, of which, at any other time, when she was

trusting to the arm and guidance of Rodolph, she would have believed

herself incapable. She knew the direction in which the Indian village

lay, and the slanting rays of the declining sun occasionally penetrated

the thick wood, and cast bright streaks of light on the mossy ground,

and the boles of the giant trees around; but soon they faded away, and

a deep gloom overspread her path.

'Mother,' said the trembling little Edith, as she clung to Helen’s

hand, and exerted her utmost strength to keep up with her rapid steps;

'Mother, do you not fear to pass through this forest now? Shall we not

meet more of those dreadful savages who have taken away my brother? Oh,

Henrich! Henrich!' she cried--while tears burst afresh from her eyes at

the recollection of her brother's fate--'why did you venture into this

wood to seek plants for my bower?' and the child sobbed convulsively,

from mingled grief and fear.

‘Cease, Edith, cease!' replied the deeply distressed, but now firm and

courageous Helen: 'I fear nothing while I am seeking aid for Henrich.

God will protect us, my child!’ she added: and she raised her glistening

eyes to heaven, and gazed, hopefully and trustingly, on one bright star

that shone upon her between the summits of the lofty trees. Her heart

was strengthened by her pious confidence in her heavenly Father. She

remembered also that Edith looked to her for protection; and all

personal fears were absorbed by that generous and elevating feeling of

self-devotion, which is shared even by the lower and weaker animals

when their offspring are in danger. So Helen forgot herself, and felt

strong to guard her child, and strong to seek and obtain aid for him

whose peril was more real and urgent.

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.

The Pilgrims of New England A Tale of the Early American Settlers · 第 3 / 23 章