THE LORDS OF THE SOIL
SAMOSET proved as good as his word. The very next morning, for all it
was Sunday, back he came, and with him five other tall Indians, who
were even more wonderful fellows than he, for they were clad in skins
of deer or of wildcat, and had dressed their hair with feathers, and
painted their faces in black streaks. To divert their English hosts,
they sang and danced, which Master Hopkins called a violation of the
sanctity of the day, but Miles privately thought most edifying.
He was even better pleased when that night, at the departure of his
comrades, Samoset was ill or feigned to be, so, spite of Mistress
Hopkins, he must be sheltered in her husband's house. Thus for three
days Miles dwelt under the same roof with a live Indian, and ate at
the same board, till he came to have not the least tremor at sight of
a copper-colored face. Indeed, he neglected every task he was set, to
dog the Indian guest about the street and make shy efforts at talk with
him, and he was heartily grieved when at last, on Wednesday, Samoset
went away into the forest.
"No doubt he'll come again, the mistress always makes him so welcome,"
Ned Lister consoled Miles, "and each time he goes, for his further
encouragement, they give him a present. This morning they gave him
a hat and shoes and stockings, and a shirt and a loin cloth. I take
it, 'tis because I am what Master Hopkins calls a son of Belial that
it makes me to laugh, when I think of Sagamore Samoset in an English
headpiece with a flapping brim."
"I'm mighty sorry he went," sighed Miles, uncomforted. "I was learning
the Indian words, so I could talk to him presently, like Captain
Standish. 'Cossaquot,' that means _bow_; and 'et chossucke' is _a
knife_; and 'petuckquanocke' is _bread_; and--"
Ned yawned suggestively, and fell to work again. He and Miles that
afternoon were busied in the spaded garden patch at the north end of
the dooryard, where they were pressing the seeds into the soft earth.
The sun was hot, and, as Miles worked, he smeared his warm face with
his fingers, till Ned assured him he was all streaked brown, like an
Indian.
But though it was hot and dirty labor, it was far manlier than to be
ever dandling a baby; so Miles toiled on earnestly, spite of Ned's
indolent example, and did not pause even to stretch his cramped legs
or straighten his aching back till mid-afternoon. Then he started up
at a noise of people hurrying through the street, the sound of a quick
footstep, the rattle of the house-door.
"'Tis Master Hopkins has taken his musket and gone forth," spoke Ned,
who was lounging farther down the garden. "Somewhat's afoot." Away he
went to look into the matter, and Miles ran stiffly after.
Out in the street the men and boys, and even one or two girls, were
hastening toward the bluff above the spring. As they went, a confused
talking spread among them, from which Miles learned that yonder, on the
great wooded hill across the brook, Indians had been seen,--Indians who
brandished their bows and whetted their arrows in defiance. Captain
Standish and Master Hopkins and two men from the _Mayflower_ had gone
down to cross the brook and parley with them. Look, yonder they went
now!
From where the company had halted, high up beyond Goodman Cooke's
cottage, Miles could see the bright river and the hill opposite, thick
with unleaved woods. Up its base wound slowly the little band of
Englishmen, now half-screened, now wholly visible; but Miles looked
from them, higher up the slope, where the bare branches were agitated,
as if something moved among them. "'Tis the savages!" said one; but,
strain his eyes as he would, Miles saw through the bushes only the
sad-colored English doublets.
Yet, with an anxiety he scarcely comprehended, the men lingered on the
bluff, watching and discussing in grave tones, till the Captain and
his followers came toilsomely up the path from the spring. They had
seen naught; the savages had not suffered them draw nigh them, Captain
Standish explained, so briefly that he seemed curt, while his puckered
brows still were bent on the slope whence the Indians had sent their
defiance.
Slowly the little group of curious and troubled people scattered, some
of the weightier ones to speak with the Governor and the Captain,
others to simpler tasks. Miles went back to his garden, but the
sunlight had now left that corner of the yard. The great hill, where
stood the guns, looked black against the sky, and there seemed in all
out-of-doors a menace that made him glad at dusk to get within the
house. Throughout supper the men kept from speaking of the savages with
an elaborateness that made their silence the more suspicious, and the
unspoken anxiety wrought on Miles till at bedtime he smuggled Trug into
the chamber and made the dog lie near him.
Next morning, in the clear sunlight, Miles's courage revived mightily,
but his elders still looked sober. None the less, whether Indians
threatened or no, the work of the colony must be done: all the morning
men and boys trudged about their tasks, though none went far afield;
and after the noon meal the men gathered once more at the Common House,
to consider the public business which the first coming of Samoset had
broken off.
Oceanus was ailing that afternoon and needed his mother, so Miles
had to mind Damaris for a dreary hour. As he sat with her upon the
doorstone, he spied a noiseless little group of some five Indians
passing down the street, and, alert at once, he begged leave to run see
what might happen; but Mistress Hopkins, all a-tremble herself, forbade
him venture out while those bloodthirsty wretches were abroad, and even
made him come in and shut the door fast.
But speedily there sounded a rattling knock to which the mistress
must open, and in came the men of the household, so hurriedly that
straightway the living room was in confusion. For the great Sagamore
Massasoit, with his brother Quadequina and sixty warriors, was at hand,
just across the brook. One of the Indians, Squanto, who could speak
English, had gone back to bid him enter the settlement, and the men of
the colony must get under arms to receive him; perhaps even to defend
themselves, Master Hopkins let a word fall.
There followed a great throwing-on of buff-jackets and buckling of
sword-belts, while Giles, newly appointed drummer to the colony,
rattled over the pots and kettles in a meaningless search for his
drumsticks, which some one had surely moved from the place where he
left them. Oceanus wailed, Damaris, indignant at being neglected,
screamed aloud, Trug barked, and Mistress Hopkins scolded, but somehow,
in the midst of the hurly-burly, the three men equipped themselves and
tramped away; and right at their heels went Giles, with the drumsticks
which Constance had found.
But the door closed behind them and shut Miles, a soldier in name only,
in with the women and children for another tedious hour. Damaris found
little rest in his arms those minutes, while he ran from the western
window, whence he could see a bit of the street and the path to the
spring, to the eastern window, whence, far down the street, he beheld
the men gathered in martial line, all in armor, which glimmered bravely
in the afternoon sun.
He was still gazing down the street when Constance, who had ventured
to the other window, called to him in a terrified voice: "Miles! Oh,
Miles! Come hither. 'Tis Indians indeed. Hundreds of them!"
With no wish to see further, the girl drew away from the western
window, and Miles thrust eagerly into her place. Yes, there were
Indians indeed, swarms of them, it seemed at first sight, so he
flinched back a little from the casement. For they were filing past
the house, and that brought them so near that Miles could see even
the grotesque figures in which their faces were painted. But soon he
perceived English musketeers marshalling them, and he saw, too, that
the savages were unarmed. Their mission must be peaceful, he judged;
so, eager and unafraid, he stared at them, and was sorry when the last
one disappeared down the street.
Just then, as he turned from the window, sounded the tap, tap of a
drum. "It is the Governor and the rest of the men with drum and trumpet
marching up the street," spoke Constance from the eastern casement.
"They have led the savages into the unfinished cottage by the Common
House, and now they are going in to them."
Miles, at her side, squirmed with impatience. "There's Jack yonder
beneath the cottage window," he exclaimed, "and Francis and Joe. And
there's such a deal to see. And I'm sure they are all good, harmless
Indians." He gave a glance toward the bedroom, where he could hear
Mistress Hopkins lulling Oceanus, then whispered Constance: "Won't you
mind Damaris? I'll tell you all about it when I come back."
"I see not why you wish to go forth at such a time, but I'll do 't
for you. Run quick, ere stepmother stop you," answered kind-hearted
Constance; and away sped Miles.
Still, he was too late to share in the main excitement, for when he
came into the yard of the unfinished house, he found the door fast shut
and all the great folk, white or copper-colored, gone within. Only two
musketeers remained outside to keep watch, and Edward Dotey, who was
one of them, proved so unsympathetic as to cuff Francis Billington when
he tried to get a peep in at the window. Much discouraged, for where
saucy Francis failed to go there was no hope for the others, the small
boys of the colony gathered in a patient little group in the dooryard
to talk of these great happenings.
"Master Winslow has gone out amongst the Indians," said Jack, "and
they're holding him as hostage for their old King. 'Twas right valiant
of him--"
"Pooh! The Captain would 'a' gone just as quick," Miles retorted
jealously. "There's naught to be afraid of, anyway. I would I were
Giles Hopkins, and stood there in the house with the savages."
"My father is in there too," spoke little Love Brewster, who had
attached himself to Miles, "but he is so good I do not think even an
Indian would hurt him. But there were very many of them, and if my
mother had come close to see, I am sure she would have been afraid.
Perhaps I were best go home and tell her there's no need to fear. You
come with me, pray you, Miles."
Young Rigdale had no wish to take his eyes from the door of the house,
but plainly the little boy was fearful enough to want his company up
the street, so he went with him, and at the Elder's cottage stayed a
moment to reassure the women grandly.
Dolly had no interest in Indians, since she found in the case of
Samoset that they did not carry about with them a store of pretty
baskets, such as the one her father had brought her; but Priscilla
Mullins was eager to know everything, and questioned Miles and listened
to him most flatteringly, till he offered: "If you wish to go forth and
view the Indians, Priscilla, I'll go and take care of you."
Whereat young Mistress Mullins laughed, and, slipping her hand under
his chin, kissed him for his courtesy, "like a baby."
Red and indignant, Miles flung out of the house; then forgot the
insult, as he saw Giles, with a platter in his hand, hurrying up the
street from Governor Carver's cottage. "What are you doing there?" he
called, running to intercept the elder lad.
"Fresh meat," panted Giles. "The Governor wished it for the King. I
had this bit of a goose from Mistress Carver, and now I've remembered a
mallard I saw stepmother set to boil."
It took him very few minutes to hurry into his father's house, and out
again with a second larger platter balanced in one hand, but, short as
the space was, Miles had laid a plan. Stepping up to Giles, he took
from him Mistress Carver's dish of meat. "Let me aid you," he proffered
innocently.
"So that's what you're scheming," laughed Giles; but he let Miles,
under that pretext, come at his side down the street, past the little
group of envious boys, up the doorstone of the unfinished cottage, and
so into the very council chamber.
The room was close and hazy with smoke from the pipes of tobacco that
the King and the chief of the English puffed at, but, spite of the
dimness, Miles speedily made out the shapes of the Indians. Black,
red, yellow, and white, their faces were partly or wholly smeared with
paint, and, through the wavering smoke-wreaths, their look was so grim
that for an instant he hesitated on the threshold.
But Giles went on, so he followed, across the room, between what
seemed endless rows of Indians in hairy skins who stood or squatted
on the floor, up to the table, where sat a tall, stalwart savage.
Imitating Giles, Miles set down his dish of meat before him, and, with
an agitated bow, drew back to the wall, where he wedged himself in
between Lister and young Hopkins. "That's the King, yonder at table,"
the latter whispered him softly.
He did not look at all as Miles thought a king should look, that savage
at the table. He wore a scant covering of skins,--a dress like that of
his followers, save that the King had also about his neck a great chain
of white bone beads. His face was painted a dark red; and face and head
alike were oiled so he looked greasy; he fed untidily with his fingers,
and sometimes, when he would give a morsel to one of his followers,
rent the meat with his hands.
But, for all he seemed so busy with feeding, his quick eyes were
darting about the smoky room,--now resting on the Governor, who
sat at table near him; now on the English musketeers who lined the
walls,--and, to Miles's thinking, the King looked on them timorously;
now on his own followers, who crowded silently about him. One of the
Indians, squatting on the floor, held in his hands the English trumpet,
on which he tried to blow, and, for a moment, the King paused to hark
with a child's wonder to his efforts, then once more began tearing
Mistress Hopkins's mallard.
When nothing but bones was left of the bird, Giles slipped the platters
from the table, and now the serious work of the conference seemed to
begin. Up from the floor behind the table, where they had sat, rose
two savages, who should interpret between Massasoit and the Governor;
the one was a stranger, probably that Squanto whom Master Hopkins had
mentioned; the other, Miles's old acquaintance, Samoset. A transformed
Samoset, however, with an English felt hat low on his brows and an
English shirt worn over his meagre native garments after the manner of
a carter's frock. Ned Lister, standing rigid and soldierly against the
wall, took Miles a sudden dig in the ribs, and winked at him with a
"Didn't I tell you as much" expression.
Miles, on his good behavior, neither looked at him nor smiled, but
fixed his gaze on the men about the table. The sun had now shifted down
the sky, so a great bar of light thrust in at the western window. The
yellow brightness flecked across Elder Brewster's grizzled head, made
Governor Carver's stiff ruff even more dazzlingly white, and gleamed
back again from Captain Standish's steel corselet. It rested, too, on
the papers which Master William Bradford had laid on the table before
him, but Master Bradford's grave face, as he bent forward to write what
the Governor bade, was in shadow. The features of Massasoit, too, were
dark to see, but here and there, as the sunlight, bursting through
the smoke, wavered across the room, the painted face or coppery bare
shoulders of one of his followers stood out.
The two interpreters jerked out the gutturals of their outlandish
tongue, to which the King grunted assent, or now and again the Governor
spoke a measured word. But outside the window a bird was singing in a
high, purling strain; and Miles wondered if it were a fat, red-breasted
bird, and thought more on its song and on the motes that swam in the
sunlight, than on what the Governor was saying.
After all, he was glad when the conference broke up. He was tired of
standing stiffly, and the air of the room was heavy; and the Indians,
when they neither ate nor played with trumpets, but just sat stolid,
were a bit stupid. He scuffed softly but impatiently at the rear of the
train, as the company filed forth; the Governor and the King, side by
side, went first, and then, all in some semblance of order, the Indian
warriors and the English leaders and soldiery.
Outside, a guard of honor formed about the Governor and his guest, and
gave them fitting escort to the brook; but Miles remained behind and
roused the envy of his mates, with an account of what he had seen,
till, in fickle fashion, they forsook him at the coming of a second
guest, Quadequina, the brother of Massasoit, who, in his turn, would
have a taste of English hospitality. He could not, however, compare
in dignity and importance with Massasoit; he was just a tall, comely
young savage, who liked English biscuit and strong waters, but liked
the English muskets so little that his hosts good-naturedly laid
them aside. Massasoit was not cowardly like that, Miles assured his
comrades; Massasoit was every inch a king, and it was a mighty honor to
have been in the same room with him.
Quadequina had been but a short time gone, and the long shadows were
filling the river valley with a grayness, when back across the brook,
quite unruffled by his long detention, came Master Edward Winslow. His
fellow-colonists might be glad to see him, and he to return unscathed
to them, but he carried it laughingly. He was all sound, save that he
was uncommon hungry,--Miles, following admiringly, caught a scrap of
his speech to Captain Standish,--the Indians had tried to buy the armor
off his back and the sword from his side, and he knew not but he might
have sold them for a mess of pottage, only he saw no such savory viand
among the savages, nor anything, indeed, but groundnuts.
Now that Master Winslow was returned, the colonists released the
Indians whom they had held as hostages for him, and sent them away.
Save only Samoset and Squanto, no Indians were suffered to remain in
the settlement, but the rumor went that King Massasoit and all his
people had encamped for the night on the wooded hill across the brook,
so a strict watch was set.
"Do you think there will be fighting yet?" Miles questioned Giles, as
they walked home to supper. "Quadequina was afeard of our muskets. I
take it, we could beat those Indians."
"To be sure, there'll be no fighting," answered Giles, as he tucked his
drum under one arm in a professional way. "We've struck a truce with
the savages."
Later, at supper, Miles heard it all explained. This was a dolorous
meal, for the meat had been devoured by his Majesty, Massasoit, and
Mistress Hopkins was ill-tempered and rated Miles for running away that
afternoon, and, to add to her discomfort, Samoset came blandly to sup
with his old entertainers. "This has been an ill day such as I wish
never to see the like of again," fretted the poor woman.
"It is a happy day for our colony," said Master Hopkins gravely. "Do
you not realize, Elizabeth, that we have this afternoon made a peace
with our heathen neighbors that, by the will of Heaven, shall prove
lasting? King Massasoit has covenanted that none of his people shall do
us harm as we go abroad; and, if he be attacked, we shall aid in his
defense, or if other tribe of savages assail us, he shall do us the
like service. Yea, the hand of Providence has been with us this day.
Yesternight it was all menace; but to-night we can hope for peace."
Miles, in his place at table, looked at Samoset, very solemn in his
funny shirt and hat, and, blinking sleepily at the candle, took little
concern for the earnestness of Master Hopkins's words. He scarcely
realized that this was almost the second founding day of New Plymouth;
but he did know that he had stood within arm's reach of King Massasoit,
an exploit of which no other boy in the colony could boast; and, when
he went to bed, he dreamed all night of red and blue and green Indians.