THE COLONIAL ROUTINE.
“Still to ourselves in every place consigned,
Our own felicity we make or find;
With silent course, which no loud storms annoy,
Glides the smooth current of domestic joy.”
GOLDSMITH’S _Traveller._
Now, as their second wilderness winter began to benumb the fingers
and chill the blood of the Pilgrim colonists, they were necessarily
shut out from many of the employments of the spring, the summer,
and the autumn. They were busied chiefly in fishing, hunting, the
collection of fuel, hewing timber, and exploring expeditions, varying
this routine by occasional traffic with Indian trappers.[332]
Devoutly thankful were the forefathers for God’s mercy and protection
in the past, and with tranquil faith they set their faces towards
the future. So full was their devotion, that it constantly cropped
out, even setting its impress upon the seal of the commonwealth,
which represented four men in the midst of a wilderness, each resting
on one knee, and raising his clasped hands towards heaven in the
attitude of prayer.[333]
With the Pilgrims, faith was the spur of labor; and this active
enterprise eased and conquered all obstacles. Still, causes for
solicitude and trials infinite constantly arose. The lean condition
of their larder was a care urgent for the passing time and weighty
in the future; and to this a new source of anxiety was added. In the
depth of winter, a report was bruited that active hostilities might
momentarily be looked for, fomented by the restless enmity of the
Narragansetts.[334]
That the Narragansetts were inimical they soon learned. One day one
of the warriors of that tribe entered Plymouth, and announced himself
to be a messenger from his renowned sagamore Canonicus. He asked for
Squanto, but seemed pleased when told that he was absent. He said he
had a package for Squanto. This consisted of a bundle of new arrows,
wrapped in a rattlesnake’s skin. It was enigmatical to the English;
but, suspicious that it could not be the Indian olive-branch, and
might mean mischief, Standish detained the messenger as he was about
to quit the settlement, and determined to hold him until Squanto’s
return should solve the riddle.[335]
At first the savage was frightened; but after a little, seeing
that his captors meant him no harm, he became quite friendly, and
began to chat. The Pilgrims learned from him, that an envoy whom
they had despatched to negotiate a peace with the Narragansetts, in
the preceding summer, had played Judas, and betrayed his trust.
Withholding from Canonicus the presents which the colonists had
sent him as tokens of amity, he had used his influence to kindle a
war. The imprisoned runner said Canonicus would not have uttered
sinister threats, had he thought the English friendly to him. When he
returned, and informed the Narragansetts of the real sentiments of
the pale-faces, firm peace would come.[336]
Somewhat affected by these representations, Bradford concluded to
release the Indian; previous to which, however, he bade the envoy
inform Canonicus that the pale-faces had heard of his threats, and
were offended; that they desired to live in amity with their red
brothers; yet if any warlike demonstrations were made, they would be
prepared to meet them.[337]
Then the governor urged the savage to take some food; but he was too
anxious to quit the dangerous vicinage to remain a moment after his
liberation; so, after expressing his gratitude, he immediately set
out, in the midst of a driving storm, to find his way through the
white, shivering December woods to his wigwam and his people.[338]
When Squanto came in, the settlers at once crowded about him, and
showing him the sphynx-like Indian package, asked him to spell the
riddle. With a laugh and a shrug, he explained that it expressed
enmity, and was the red man’s declaration of war. The settlers were
startled; all adjourned to the fort; and here, after deliberation,
it was resolved to meet menace by menace. They thought, rightly,
that a determined attitude would in their case be safest; and though
Bradford had no anxiety to pit his fifty-odd men against the five
thousand warriors whom Canonicus could muster, he was bold and
defiant in appearance.[339]
The governor filled the rattlesnake-skin with powder and bullets, and
despatched it to the Narragansetts by a special messenger, with this
word: “If we were supplied with ships, we would save the Narragansett
sagamore the trouble of coming so far to meet us by sailing to him in
his own dominions. As it is, if he will come to the colony, he will
find us ready to receive him.”[340]
When Canonicus heard this message, he was profoundly impressed
with the courage of his pale-face neighbors; and when the skin was
tendered him, he refused to receive it; but the Pilgrim envoy would
not take it back; so it was passed from hand to hand among the
Narragansetts, till finally, pushed from the forest by superstitious
fear, it reached the Plymouth settlement _unopened_.[341]
Though this prompt action cowed the Narragansetts for a time, the
rumor of intended hostilities continued to vex the colonists through
the winter. “This made them the more careful to look to themselves;
so they agreed to enclose their dwellings with a strong pale, with
flankers in convenient spots, and gates to shut, which were every
night locked, and a watch kept; when need required, there was also
warding through the day. The company, by the advice of Standish and
the governor, was divided into four squadrons; and every man had his
position assigned him, to which he was to repair in case of sudden
alarm. If there should be a cry of fire, a squad was appointed for a
guard, with muskets, whilst others quenched the flames. All this was
accomplished very cheerfully; and to prevent Indian treachery, the
whole town was impaled round by the beginning of March, while every
family had a pretty garden-spot secured.”[342]
The Pilgrims were regularly drilled by Standish, who had learned
the science of war in Flanders. On these occasions, part of the
exercises consisted in a general rush, each man to his station, and
a simultaneous discharge of musketry. After this, the men escorted
their officers to their cabins, fired a salute in their honor, and
then dispersed. This may be considered “the first general muster
in New England.” It was the germ of the present militia system of
thirty-six states.[343]
This diligent training ere long moulded the Pilgrims into a finely
disciplined company; and they were quite proud of their proficiency
in arms. Thus
“Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish, the captain
of Plymouth:
‘Look at these arms,’ he said, ‘the warlike weapons that hang here,
Burnished, and bright, and clean, as if for parade or inspection.
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders. This
breastplate—
Well I remember the day—once saved my life in a skirmish.
There in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish Arcabucero.
Had it not been of shear-steel, the forgotten bones of Miles
Standish
Would at this moment be mould in their grave in the Flemish
morasses.
Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer, planted
High on the roof of the church—a preacher who speaks to the purpose,
Steady, straight forward, and strong, with irresistible logic;
Orthodox, flashing conviction right into the hearts of the heathen.
Now we are ready, I think, for an assault of the Indians.
Let them come, if they like, and the sooner they try it the better.
Let them come, if they like, be it sagamore, sachem, or pow-wow,
Aspinet, Samoset, Corbitant, Squanto, or Tokamahamon.’”[344]
When, in the preceding summer, the Pilgrims had visited Massachusetts
bay, they had promised the tribes in that vicinity to come again
in the next spring and renew a trade with them. Now, in the latter
part of March, Standish and his friends commenced preparations
for this voyage. Rumors, constantly renewed, still foreboded an
outbreak against the peace and safety of the little commonwealth; and
though the winter had been spent without the yell of the war-whoop,
Bradford’s fast friend, Habbamak, strongly advised against the
expedition of Standish, since he feared that the northeastern
tribes were in close league with the Narragansetts, and anxious to
precipitate a war.[345]
Finally the colonists concluded to undertake the expedition, but to
do so with extreme caution.[346] Accordingly, Standish embarked.
He had not sailed far, ere he was becalmed. Suddenly he heard a
cannon-shot, the signal of danger. Instantly putting about, he bade
his men row with their utmost strength and skill. Soon Plymouth was
reached, and Standish learned that, just as he had sailed, an Indian,
one of Squanto’s family, had brought word that the Narragansetts,
with Corbitant and Massasoit, were marching on the settlement.[347]
Habbamak was confident that, even if this tale were true, Massasoit
was not on the war-path; so confident, that he sent his squaw,
under pretence of some message, to spy out the facts in the great
sagamore’s village.[348]
Meantime watch was kept through the night, and the whole settlement
rested on its arms.[349]
Nothing came of it all; not an Indian appeared; and when Habbamak’s
wife returned, she said that she found Massasoit at home and
quiet.[350] “After this,” says Bradford, “the traders proceeded on
their voyage, and had a good traffic; returning in safety, blessed by
God.”[351]
From various circumstances, the settlers began to suspect that
Squanto “sought his own ends and played his own game” in his
relations with them. He was the most travelled and learned of the
Indians, and with the spirit of braggadocio and the love of great
stories common to his race, and also to his white prototypes, he
was fond of working on the fears of his more ignorant and credulous
brothers of the wood, by boasting of his influence with the
pale-faces, by reciting wild and terror-striking stories of the
magical power of the English, and by offering to insure the peace and
security of all who bought his services.[352]
In this way Squanto drove quite a trade, the patent for his truth
being his knowledge and singular European adventures.
“These English,” he would say to a wondering and superstitious group
of Indians, “are a wise and powerful people. Diseases are at their
command. They have now buried under their storehouse the plague. They
can send it forth to any place or upon any people they please, and
sweep them all away, though they went not a step from home.”[353]
“Ugh! ugh!” would be the responses of the gaping believers. Many
was the skin, many the piece of wampum, given Squanto to purchase
his powerful intercession on their behalf, to lay the plague of the
pale-face magicians.
Once Squanto, being sent for by the governor, entered the house
accompanied by Habbamak and several other Indians. A hole had been
dug in the floor for the purpose of concealing certain articles,
and the ground was left in a broken state. Habbamak, glancing at it,
asked Squanto,
“What does that mean?”
“That,” retorted the wily sachem, “is the place where the plague is
buried that I told you about.”
Habbamak, to satisfy himself of the truth or falsity of this
statement, asked one of the settlers, shortly after, if this was so.
“No,” said the stern, truthful Puritan; “we have not the plague at
our command; but the God whom we worship has, and he can send it
forth to the destruction both of his enemies and ours.”[354]
Having learned these things, the Pilgrims spared no pains to
contradict Squanto’s misstatements; and so angered were the
neighboring tribes, all of whom he had repeatedly swindled and
misled, that Massasoit and Habbamak both strenuously insisted upon
putting him to death; for the American Indian forgave any thing
sooner than an attempt to cheat him; in which he was unlike civilized
communities, which often admire in proportion as they are cozened,
and frown on and resent nothing but a _clumsy_ cheat.
But Squanto, with all his faults, was too useful to the Pilgrims
to be surrendered to the cruel vengeance of his foes; so he was
saved from death, though not without difficulty, and at the risk of
estranging Massasoit.[355]
This made the rescued sachem “walk more squarely, and cleave
unto the English till he died.” There was great jealousy between
Squanto and Habbamak. Both were competitors for the good-will of
the Pilgrims; and of this emulation good use was made. The governor
seemed to countenance the one, and the captain the other, by which
_rûse_ the colonists got better intelligence, and kept the two scouts
more diligent.[356]
Towards the latter part of May, 1622, the scanty provisions of the
Pilgrims quite gave out. Actual hunger began to pinch. The wild fowl,
so plenty in the preceding season, were now grown shy of Plymouth,
and could not be found. Their hooks and seines for fishing were worn
out. It was yet hardly time to plant, as the frost still clutched the
soil in its icy hand; and even if it were, weary weeks must elapse
ere a crop could be reaped. The future looked black, yet even in this
strait they trusted in God, “knowing that he would not desert his
own.”[357]
While the Pilgrims were thus perplexed to know where their next
mouthful was to come from, they espied one day a shallop off their
harbor. It proved to be a boat from a ship sent by Thomas Weston to
fish off the coast of Maine. It contained six or seven passengers and
a parcel of home-letters.[358]
These emigrants, like those who came in the “Fortune,” were destitute
of provisions, and the colonists were requested by Weston to
provide for their necessities. Despite their own wants, “they took
compassion on the needy new-comers, and in this famine gave them as
good as any of their own.”[359]
The Pilgrims got cold comfort from their letter-bag. “Some of the
adventurers,” wrote Weston, “have sent you herewith some directions
for your furtherance in the common good. It seems to me that they are
like those St. James speaks of, that bade their brother eat and warm
himself, but gave him nothing; so they bid you make salt and uphold
the plantation, but send you no means wherewithal to do it. Soon I
purpose to send more people on my own account.”[360]
It seemed from other letters, that the company of
Merchant-adventurers was exhausting its energy in internal
bickerings. Nothing was said about forwarding the remainder of the
congregation at Leyden; nothing was promised for the future; a simple
command was sent, that the colonists should assent to the breakage
of the joint-stock contract, and despatch to them a paper to that
effect, ratified and certified.[361]
“All this,” says Bradford, “was cold comfort to fill their empty
bellies; and on the part of Mr. Weston, but a slender performance
of his late promise never to forsake the colony;[362] and as little
did it fill and warm cold and hungry men, as those the apostle
James spoke of, by Weston before mentioned. Well might it remind the
settlers of what the psalmist saith, ‘It is better to trust in the
Lord than to have confidence in man.’[363] And again, ‘Put not your
trust in princes’—much less in merchants—‘nor in the son of man; for
there is no help in them.’[364] ‘Blessed is he that hath the God of
Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God.’[365]
“These things seemed strange to the settlers. Seeing this
inconsistency and shuffling, it made them think there was some
mystery at bottom. Therefore the governor, fearing lest, in their
straits, this news should tend to disband and scatter the colony,
concealed these letters from the public, and only imparting them to
some trusty friends for advice, concluded for the present to keep all
quiet, and await the development of events.”[366]