silent for a moment. Then his eyes twinkled and he began another
story. "One day as we was skirtin' the shores of Martha's Vineyard,"
he said, "we were followed by a shark. Now, there 's nothing a sailor
hates worse than a shark; and for good reasons. They 're the pirates
of the deep; that 's what they are. They 'll follow a vessel for days,
snapping up whatever the cook throws out, and hoping somebody 'll
fall overboard to give 'em a full meal. Well, sir, there was a sailor
aboard on that voyage that had a special grudge against sharks. He 'd
been all but et up by one once, and he allowed this was his chance to
get even; so he let out a hook baited with a whole pound of salt pork,
and the shark gobbled it down instanter, hook and all. They hauled him
up the ship's side, and then that sailor let himself down over the
rails by a rope, and cut a hole in the shark's gullet, or whatever
they call the pouch the critter carries his supplies in, and took out
the pork. Then he dropped him back in the water and threw the pork in
after him. Well, sir, believe it or not, that shark sighted the pork
bobbing round in the water; so he swallowed it again. Of course it
dropped right out through the hole in his gullet, and, by jolly! as
long as we could see him that shark was continuing to swallow that
piece of pork over and over again. I don't know as I ever see any
animal get more pleasure out of his rations than that shark got out
of that pound of pork. I believe in bein' kind to dumb critters," he
finished, "and I reckon the shark is about the dumbdest there is.
Anyhow that one surely did die happy." Here the Captain solemnly
winked his eye.
"What became of the sailor?" asked Dan.
"That sailor was me," admitted the Captain. "That 's what became of
him, and served him right, too."
They slept that night on the deck of the sloop, and before light the
next morning Dan was awakened by the groaning of the chain as the
anchor was hauled up, and the flapping of the sails as Timothy hoisted
them to catch a stiff breeze which was blowing from the northeast.
The second day passed like the first. The weather was fine, the winds
favorable, and that evening they rounded Duxbury Point and entered
Plymouth Bay just as the sun sank behind the hills back of the town.
"Here 's the spot where the Mayflower dropped anchor," said the
Captain, as the sloop approached a strip of sandy beach stretching
like a long finger into the water. "I generally bring the Lucy Ann to
at the same place. She can't go out again till high tide to-morrow,
for the harbor is shallow and we 'd likely run aground; so ye 'll have
the whole morning to spend with your relations, and that 's more than
I 'd want to spend with some of mine, I 'm telling ye," and he roared
with laughter. "Relations is like victuals," he went on. "Some agrees
with ye, and some don't."
"Our relations are the Bradfords," said Goodman Pepperell with
dignity.
"And a better man than the Governor never trod shoe-leather," said the
Captain heartily. "He and Captain Standish and Mr. Brewster and Edward
Winslow--why, those four men have piloted this town through more
squalls than would overtake most places in a hundred years! If
anything could kill 'em they would have been under ground years ago.
They 've had starvation and Indians and the plague followin' after 'em
like a school of sharks ever since they dropped anchor here well nigh
on to twenty years ago, and whatever happens they just thank the
Lord as if 't was a special blessing and go right along! By jolly!"
declared the Captain, blowing his nose violently, "they nigh about
beat old Job for patience! 'Though He slay me, yet will I trust in
Him,' says old Job, but his troubles was all over after a bit, and he
got rewarded with another full set of wives and children and worldly
goods, so he could see plain as print that righteousness paid. But
these men,--their reward for trouble is just more trouble, fer 's I
can see. They surely do beat all for piety."
"'Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth,'" quoted the Goodman.
"The Lord must be mighty partial to Plymouth, then," answered the
Captain as he brought the sloop gently round the point, "for she
's been shown enough favor to spile her, according to my way of
thinkin'."
[Illustration]
It was too late to go ashore that night, and from the deck Dan watched
the stars come out over the little village, not dreaming that it held
in its humble keeping the brave spirit of a great nation that was to
be.
When Daniel opened his eyes next morning, his father and the Captain
were already stowing various packages in the small boat, and from the
tiny forecastle came an appetizing smell of frying fish.
"Here ye be," said the Captain cheerily to Dan, "bright as a new
shilling and ready to eat I 'll be bound. As soon as we 've had a bite
we 'll go ashore. I 've got to row clear over to Duxbury after I do my
errands in Plymouth, but I 'll hunt ye up when I get back. Nobody can
get lost in this town without he goes out of it! I could spot ye from
the deck most anywhere on the map. Then, my lad, if your father says
the word, I 'll bring ye back to the Lucy Ann while he goes across the
neck. Ye 'll get a taste of mackerel-fishing if ye come along o' me.
Ye can make yourself handy on deck and keep a quarter of your own
catch for yourself if you 're lively. A tub of salt fish would be a
tidy present to your mother when you get back home."
"Oh, I want to go with you," cried Daniel, remembering with terror
what was expected of him in the way of manners should he be invited to
stay at the Governor's. He looked questioningly at his father, but was
answered only by a grave smile, and he knew better than to plead.
"Here, now," cried the Captain, as Timothy appeared with a big
trencher of smoking fish and corn bread, "tie up to the dock and stow
away some of this cargo in your insides."
Neither Daniel nor his father needed a second invitation, for the keen
salt air had given them the appetite of wolves, and the breakfast was
soon disposed of according to directions. Then the two followed the
Captain over the side and into the boat, which had been lowered and
was now bobbing about on the choppy waves of the bay. When they were
settled and the boat was properly trimmed, the Captain rowed toward a
small stream of clear water which flowed down from the hills back of
the town, and landed them at the foot of the one little street of the
village. The Captain drew the boat well up on the shore and stowed
letters and parcels in various places about his person, and the three
started up the hill together. They had not gone far, when a childish
voice shouted, "There 's Captain Sanders," and immediately every child
within hearing came tumbling down the hill till they swarmed about him
like flies about a honey-pot.
[Illustration]
"Pirates!" cried the Captain, holding up his hands in mock terror.
"I surrender. Come aboard and seize the cargo!" He held open the
capacious pocket which hung from his belt, and immediately half a
dozen small hands plunged into it and came out laden with raisins.
"Here, now, divide fairly," shouted the Captain. "No pigs!" and with
children clinging to his hands and coat-tails he made a slow progress
up the hill, Daniel and his father following closely in his wake.
As they were nearing the Common House, two more children caught sight
of him and came racing to meet him. The Captain dived into his
pocket for more raisins and found it empty, but he was equal to the
emergency. "Here, you, Mercy and Joseph Bradford," he cried, "I 've
brought you something I have n't brought to any one else. I 've
brought you a new cousin." The other children had been so absorbed in
their old friend they had scarcely noticed the strangers hitherto, but
now they turned to gaze curiously at Daniel and his father. Joseph and
Mercy were both a little younger than Daniel, and all three were shy,
but no one could stay shy long when the Captain was about, and soon
they were walking along together in the friendliest manner.
"Where 's thy father, young man?" said the Captain, speaking to
Joseph. "I have a letter for him, and I have brought a relation for
him too."
"I wish you would bring me a cousin," said one little girl enviously.
"Well, now," roared the Captain, "think of that! I have a few
relations of my own left over that I 'd be proper glad to parcel out
amongst ye if I 'd only known ye was short, but I have n't got 'em
with me."
"Father 's in there," said Joseph, pointing to the Common House. "They
're having a meeting. Elder Brewster 's there, too, and Mr. Winslow
and Captain Standish and Governor Prence." It was evident that some
matter of importance was being discussed, for a little knot of women
had gathered before the door as if waiting for some decision to be
announced.
They had almost reached the group, when suddenly from the north there
came a low roaring noise, and the earth beneath their feet shook and
trembled so violently that many of the children were thrown to the
ground, while the bundles Goodman Pepperell was carrying for the
Captain flew in every direction. Those who kept their feet at all
reeled and staggered in a strange, wild dance, and every child in the
group screamed with all his might. The women screamed, too, calling
frantically to the children, and the men came pouring out of the door
of the Common House, trying to steady themselves as they were flung
first one way, then another by the heaving ground. It lasted but a few
dreadful moments, and the Captain was the first to recover his speech.
"There, now," said he, a little breathlessly, "ain't it lucky I had my
sea legs on! 'T wa'n't anything but an earthquake, anyway."
The instant they could stay on their feet, the children ran to their
mothers, who were also running to them, and in less time than it takes
to tell it the whole village was gathered before the Common House. As
Daniel, with the Captain and his father, joined the stricken company,
Governor Bradford was speaking. He had been Governor of the Colony for
so long that in time of sudden stress the people still turned to him
for counsel though Mr. Prence was really the Governor.
"Think ye not that the finger of the Lord would direct us by this
visitation?" he said to the white-faced group. "We were met together
in council because some of our number wish to go away from Plymouth to
find broader pastures for their cattle, even as Jacob separated from
Esau with all his flocks and herds. In this I see a sign of God's
displeasure at our removals one from another."
John Howland now found his voice. "Nay, but," he said, "shall we limit
the bounty of the Lord and say, 'Only here shall He prosper us'?"
"What say the Scriptures to him who was not content with abundance,
but must tear down his barns to build bigger?" answered the Governor.
"'This night thy soul shall be required of thee.'"
There was no reply, and the pale faces grew a shade paler as a second
rumble was heard in the distance, the earth again began to tremble,
and a mighty wave, rolling in from the sea, crashed against the shore.
Above the noise of the waters rose the voice of Governor Bradford. "He
looketh upon the earth and it trembleth. He toucheth the hills and
they smoke. The Lord is merciful and gracious. He will not always
chide, neither will He keep his anger forever. He hath not dealt with
us after our sins."
Seeing how frightened the people were, the Captain broke the silence
which fell upon the trembling group after the Governor's words. "Lord
love ye!" he cried heartily. "This wa'n't no earthquake to speak of.
'T wa'n't scarcely equal to an ague chill down in the tropics! They
would n't have no respect for it down there. 'T would n't more than
give 'em an appetite for their victuals."
His laugh which followed cheered many hearts, and was echoed in faint
smiles on the pale faces of the colonists. Governor Bradford himself
smiled and, turning to the Captain, held out his hand. "Thou art ever
a tonic, Thomas," he said, "and there is always a welcome for thee in
Plymouth and for thy friends, too," he added, turning to the Goodman.
"Though thou knowest him not, he is haply more thy friend than mine,"
said the Captain, pushing the Goodman and Daniel forward to shake
hands with the Governor, "He is married to Mistress Bradford's niece
and his name is Pepperell."
"Josiah Pepperell, of Cambridge?" said the Governor's lady, coming
forward to welcome him.
"At your service, madam," answered the Goodman, bowing low, "and this
is my son Daniel."
Daniel bowed in a manner to make his mother proud of him if she could
have seen him, and then Mercy and Joseph swarmed up, bringing their
older brother William, a lad of fifteen, to meet his new cousin, and
the four children ran away together, all their tongues wagging briskly
about the exciting event of the day. The earthquake had now completely
passed, and the people, roused from their terror, hastened to their
homes to repair such damage as had been done and to continue the
tasks which it had interrupted. Meanwhile the Captain distributed his
letters and parcels, leaving the Governor to become acquainted with
his new relative, learn his errand, and help him on his journey, while
his wife hastened home to prepare a dinner for company.
It was a wonderful dinner that she set before them. There were
succotash and baked codfish, a good brown loaf, and pies made of
blueberries gathered and dried the summer before. Oh, if only Daniel's
mother could have been there to see his table manners on that
occasion! He sat up as straight as a ramrod, said "please" and "thank
you," ate in the most genteel manner possible, even managing blueberry
pie without disaster, and was altogether such an example of behavior
that Mistress Bradford said before the meal was half over, "Thou
'lt leave the lad with us, Cousin Pepperell, whilst thou art on thy
journey?"
"I fear to trouble thee," said the Goodman. "And the Captain hath a
purpose to take him to Provincetown and meet me here on my return."
"The land is mayhap safer than the sea should another earthquake visit
us," said the Governor gravely, "and he will more than earn his keep
if he will but help William with the corn and other tasks. Like
thyself we are in sad need of more hands."
Daniel looked eagerly at his father, for he already greatly admired
his cousin William and longed to stay with him. Moreover, the
earthquake had somewhat modified his appetite for adventure.
"His eyes plead," said the Goodman, "and I know it would please his
mother. So by your leave he may stay."
A whoop of joy from the three young Bradfords was promptly suppressed
by their mother. "For shame!" she said. "Thy cousin Daniel will think
thou hast learned thy manners from the savages. Thou shouldst take a
lesson from his behavior."
Poor Daniel squirmed on his stool and thought if he must be an example
every moment of his stay he would almost choose being swallowed up by
a tidal wave at sea after all. The matter had been settled, however,
and that very afternoon the Goodman set off on a hired horse, with his
musket across his saddle-bow, and a head full of instructions from
the Governor about the dangers of the road, and houses where he might
spend the nights.
There was a queer lump in Daniel's throat as he caught the last
glimpse of his father's sturdy back as it disappeared down the forest
trail, and that night, when he went to bed with William in the loft of
the Governor's log house, he thought long and tenderly of his mother
and Nancy. If he had only had a magic mirror such as Beauty had in the
palace of the Beast, he might have looked into it and seen them going
patiently about their daily tasks with nothing to break the monotonous
routine of work except a visit from Gran'ther Wattles, who came to see
if Nancy knew her catechism. The earthquake had been felt there so
very slightly that they did not even know there had been one, until
the Captain stopped on his return voyage the next week to bring them
word of the safe journey to Plymouth.
IV
A FOREST TRAIL
To Daniel the days of his stay in Plymouth passed quickly. He hoed
corn with his cousin William and pulled weeds in the garden with
Joseph and Mercy, and in the short hours allowed them for play there
was always the sea. They ran races on the sand when the tide was out
and were never tired of searching for the curious things washed ashore
by the waves. One day they gathered driftwood and made a fire on the
shore, hung a kettle over it and cooked their own dinner of lobsters
fresh from the water. Another day William and Daniel went together
in a rowboat nearly to Duxbury, and caught a splendid codfish that
weighed ten pounds. On another wonderful day John Howland took the
two boys hunting with him. It was the first time Daniel had ever been
allowed to carry a gun quite like a man, and he was the proudest lad
in all Plymouth that night when the three hunters returned bringing
with them two fine wild turkeys, and a hare which Daniel had shot. He
loved the grave, wise, kindly Governor and his brave wife, and grew to
know, by sight at least, most of the other people of the town.
More than ten days passed in this way, and they were beginning to
wonder why the Goodman did not return. The Captain had come back from
Provincetown and had been obliged to go on to Boston without waiting
for him, and there was no knowing when the Lucy Ann would appear again
in Plymouth Harbor. Then one day, as Dan and William were working in
the corn-field, they saw a tired horse with two people on his back
come out of the woods. Daniel took a long look at the riders, then,
throwing down his hoe and shouting, "It 's Father!" tore off at top
speed to meet him. William picked up his hoe and followed at a slower
pace. When he reached the group, Dan was up behind his father on the
pillion with his arms about him, and standing before them on the
ground was a black boy about William's own size and age. He had only a
little ragged clothing on, and what he had seemed to make him uneasy,
perhaps because he had been used to none at all in his native home far
across the sea. His eyes were rolling wildly from one face to another,
and it was plain that he was in a great state of fear.
"He is but a savage as yet," said Goodman Pepperell. "He was doubtless
roughly handled on the voyage and hath naught but fear and hatred in
his heart. It will take some time to make a Christian of him! Thou
must help in the task, Daniel, for thou art near his age and can
better reach his darkened mind. As yet he understands but one thing.
He can eat like a Christian, or rather like two of them! We must tame
him with food and kindness."
"What is his name?" asked Daniel, still gazing at the boy with popping
eyes, for never before had he seen a skin so dark.
[Illustration]
"Call him Zeb," said his father.
"Come, Zeb," said William, taking the boy gently by the arm, and
looking compassionately into the black face. "Food!" He shouted the
word at him as if he were deaf, but poor Zeb, completely bewildered
by these strange, meaningless sounds, only shrank away from him and
looked about as if seeking a way of escape.
Daniel immediately sprang from the pillion and seized Zeb's other arm.
"Yes, Zeb, _food_--_good_," he howled, pointing down his own throat
and rubbing his stomach with an ecstatic expression. It is probable
that poor Zeb understood from this pantomime that he was about to be
eaten alive, for he made a furious effort to get away. The boys held
firmly to his arms, smiling and nodding at him in a manner meant to
be reassuring, but which only convinced the poor black that they
were pleased with the tenderness of his flesh and were enjoying
the prospect of a cannibal feast. With the slave boy between them,
"hanging back and digging in his claws like a cat being pulled by
the tail," as Dan told his mother afterward, they made slow progress
toward the village.
News of the return spread quickly, and a curious crowd of children
gathered to gaze at Zeb, for many of them had never seen a negro
before in their lives. Goodman Pepperell went at once to the
Governor's house, and when he learned that the Captain had come and
gone, he decided to push on to Boston at once by land. "'T is an
easier journey than the one I have just taken," he said. "There are
settlements along the way, and time passes. I have been gone now
longer than I thought. The farm work waits, and Susanna will fear for
our safety. I must start home as soon as I can return this horse to
the owner and secure another. I would even buy a good mare, for I
stand in need of one on my farm."
"At least thou must refresh thyself before starting," said the
Governor's wife cordially, and she set about getting dinner at once.
While his father went with the Governor to make arrangements for the
journey, Daniel and his cousins took charge of Zeb. With Mistress
Bradford's permission they built a fire on the shore and cooked dinner
there for themselves and the black boy, who was more of a show to them
than a whole circus with six clowns would be to us. As he watched the
boys lay the sticks and start the blaze, Zeb's eyes rolled more wildly
than ever. No doubt he thought that he himself was to be roasted over
the coals, and when at last he saw William lay a big fish on the fire
instead, his relief was so great that for the first time he showed a
row of gleaming teeth in a hopeful grin. Daniel brought him a huge
piece of it when the fish was cooked, and from that moment Zeb
regarded him as his friend.
It was early afternoon before all the preparations were completed and
the little caravan was ready to start on its perilous journey. There
were two horses, and John Howland, who knew the trail well and was
wise in woodcraft, was to go with them as far as Marshfield, where he
knew of a horse that was for sale. Half the town gathered to see them
off. John Howland mounted first, and Daniel was placed on the pillion
behind him. Then Zeb was made to get up behind the Goodman, and off
they started, followed by a volley of farewells and messages from the
group of Plymouth friends left behind.
For a little distance they followed the shore-line, then, plunging
into the woods, they were soon lost to view. The road was a mere
blazed trail through dense forests, and it was necessary to keep a
sharp lookout lest they lose their way and also because no traveler
was for a moment safe from possible attack by Indians. Hour after hour
they plodded patiently along, sometimes dismounting and walking for a
mile or so to stretch their legs and rest the horses. There was little
chance for talk, because the path was too narrow for them to go side
by side. The day was warm, and if it had not been for slapping the
mosquitoes which buzzed about them in swarms, Daniel would have fallen
asleep sitting in the saddle. In the late afternoon, as they came
out upon an open moor, Daniel was roused by hearing a suppressed
exclamation from John Howland and felt him reach for the pistol which
hung from his belt. His horse pricked up his ears and whinnied, and
the horse on which the Goodman and Zeb were riding answered with a
loud neigh. Daniel peered over John Howland's broad shoulder just in
time to see a large deer disappearing into a thicket of young birches
some distance ahead of them.
"Oh!" cried Daniel, pounding on John Howland's ribs in his excitement,
"let 's get him!"
"Not so fast, not so fast," said John in a low voice, pinning with his
elbow the hand that was battering his side. "Let be! Thou hast seen
but half. There was an Indian on the track of that deer. Should we
step in and take his quarry, he might be minded to empty his gun into
us instead! I saw him standing nigh the spot where the trail enters
the wood again yonder, and when he saw us he slipped like a shadow
into the underbrush."
He stopped his horse, the Goodman came alongside, and the two men
talked together in a low tone. "Shall we go on as if we had not seen
him?" asked the Goodman. John Howland considered.
"If we turn back, the savage will be persuaded we have seen him and
are afraid," he said. "We must e'en take our chance. It may be he hath
no evil intent, though the road be lonely and travelers few. Whatever
his purpose, it is safer to go on than to stand still," and,
tightening his rein, he boldly urged his horse across the open space.
Daniel's heart thumped so loudly against his ribs that it sounded to
his ears like a drum-beat as they crossed the clearing and entered the
forest on the other side. They had gone but a short distance into the
woods when they were startled by the report of a gun, and poor Zeb
fell off his horse and lay like one dead in the road. For a moment
they thought he had been shot, and the two men were about to spring to
his rescue, when Zeb scrambled to his feet and began to run like one
possessed.
"He is but scared to death. Haply he hath never heard a gun go off
before," said John Howland, and, sticking his spurs into his horse, he
gave chase.