MASSASOIT.
1621
Advance of spring.--Sudden appearance of an Indian.--Samoset.--Effects
of a plague.--Samoset is hospitably treated and likes his
quarters.--Stealing of Indians.--The chief of the Wampanoags.--Departure
of Samoset.--Return of the Indians.--Presents to the
Indians.--Appearance of savages.--Planting.--Squantum.--His
captivity.--His benefactors.--Approach of Massasoit.--Caution of the
Indians.--Conference with Massasoit.--The Pilgrims leave a
hostage.--Visit of Massasoit.--His reception.--Royal interview.--The
first glass of spirits.--Appearance of the warriors.--A friendly
alliance.--Death of Governor Carver.--Mission to Massasoit.--Trouble
from the Indians.--The journey.--Appearance of the country.--Hospitality
of the natives.--Poverty of the natives.--The fishing-party.--Opposition
to crossing the river.--Assistance from the Indians.--Scarcity of
food.--Character of the Indians.--Massasoit absent.--Mount
Hope.--Reflections on the past.--Reflections inspired by the
scene.--Character of our forefathers.--Return of Massasoit.--Royal
ceremonies.--Gifts to the king.--Want of food.--Night in a
palace.--Amusements.--Arrival of fish.--Motives for departure.--Graphic
narrative.--Stormy journey.--Result of the mission.--Child lost.--News
of the safety of the child.--Endeavors for his rescue.--Cummaquids.--An
aged Indian.--Iyanough.--Caution.--Recovery of the lost boy.--Presents
to Aspinet.--The Wampanoags.--Power of Massasoit.
March "came in like a lion," cold, wet, and stormy; but toward the
middle of the month the weather changed, and a warm sun and soft
southern breezes gave indication of an early spring. The 16th of the
month was a remarkably pleasant day, and the colonists who were able
to bear arms had assembled at their rendezvous to complete their
military organization for the working days of spring and summer. While
thus engaged they saw, to their great surprise, a solitary Indian
approaching. Boldly, and without the slightest appearance of
hesitancy, he strode along, entered the street of their little
village, and directed his steps toward the group at the rendezvous. He
was a man of majestic stature, and entirely naked, with the exception
of a leathern belt about his loins, to which there was suspended a
fringe about nine inches in length. In his hand he held a bow and two
arrows.
[Illustration: SAMOSET, THE INDIAN VISITOR.]
The Indian, with remarkable self-confidence and freedom of gait,
advanced toward the astonished group, and in perfectly intelligible
English addressed them with the words, "Welcome, Englishmen." From
this man the eager colonists soon learned the following facts. His
name was Samoset. He was one of the chiefs of a tribe residing near
the island of Monhegan, which is at the mouth of Penobscot Bay. With a
great wind, he said that it was but a day's sail from Plymouth, though
it required a journey of five days by land. Fishing vessels from
England had occasionally visited that region, and he had, by
intercourse with them, acquired sufficient broken English to be able
to communicate his ideas. He also informed the Pilgrims that, four
years before their arrival, a terrible plague had desolated the coast,
and that the tribe occupying the region upon which they were settled
had been utterly annihilated. The dead had been left unburied to be
devoured by wolves. Thus the way had been prepared for the Pilgrims to
settle upon land which no man claimed, and thus had Providence gone
before them to shield them from the attacks of a savage foe.
Samoset was disposed to make himself quite at home. He wished to enter
the houses, and called freely for beer and for food. To make him a
little more presentable to their families, the Pilgrims put a large
horseman's coat upon him, and then led him into their houses, and
treated him with great hospitality. The savage seemed well satisfied
with his new friends, and manifested no disposition to leave quarters
so comfortable and entertainment so abundant. Night came, and he still
remained, and would take no hints to go. The colonists could not
rudely turn him out of doors, and they were very apprehensive of
treachery, should they allow him to continue with them for the night.
But all their gentle efforts to get rid of him were in vain--he
_would_ stay. They therefore made arrangements for him in Stephen
Hopkins's house, and carefully, though concealing their movements from
him, watched him all night.
Samoset was quite an intelligent man, and professed to be well
acquainted with all the tribes who peopled the New England coasts. He
said that the tribe inhabiting the end of the peninsula of Cape Cod
were called Nausites, and that they were exceedingly exasperated
against the whites, because, a few years before, one Captain Hunt,
from England, while trading with the Indians on the Cape, had
inveigled twenty-seven men on board, and then had fastened them below
and set sail. These poor creatures, thus infamously kidnapped, were
carried to Spain, and sold as slaves for one hundred dollars each. It
was in consequence of this outrage that the Pilgrims were so fiercely
attacked at _The First Encounter_. Samoset had heard from his brethren
of the forest all the incidents of this conflict.
He also informed his eager listeners that at two days' journey from
them, upon the margin of waters now called Bristol Bay, there was a
very powerful tribe, the Wampanoags, who exerted a sort of supremacy
over all the other tribes of the region. Massasoit was the sovereign
of this dominant people, and by his intelligence and energy he kept
the adjacent tribes in a state of vassalage. Not far from his
territories there was another powerful tribe, the Narragansets, who,
in their strength, were sometimes disposed to question his authority.
All this information interested the colonists, and they were anxious,
if possible, to open friendly relations with Massasoit.
Early the next morning, which was Saturday, March 17th, Samoset left,
having received as a present a knife, a bracelet, and a ring. He
promised soon to return again, and to bring some other Indians with
him. The next morning was the Sabbath. It was warm, serene, and
beautiful. Dreary winter had passed, and genial spring was smiling
around them. As the colonists were assembling for their Sabbath
devotions, Samoset again presented himself, with five tall Indians in
his train. They were all dressed in skins, fitting closely to the
body, and most of them had a panther's skin and other furs for sale.
According to the arrangement which the Pilgrims had made with Samoset,
they all left their bows and arrows about a quarter of a mile distant
from the town, as the Pilgrims did not deem it safe to admit armed
savages into their dwellings. The tools which had been left in the
woods, and which the Indians had taken, were also all brought back by
these men. The colonists received these natives as kindly as possible,
and entertained them hospitably, but declined entering into any
traffic, as it was the Sabbath. They told the Indians, however, that
if they would come on any other day, they would purchase not only the
furs they now had with them, but any others which they might bring.
Upon this, all retired excepting Samoset. He, saying that he was sick,
insisted upon remaining. The rest soon disappeared in the forest,
having promised to return again the next day. Monday and Tuesday
passed, and the colonists looked in vain for the Indians. On Wednesday
morning, having made Samoset a present of a hat, a pair of shoes, some
stockings, and a piece of cloth to wind around his loins, they sent
him to search out his companions, and ascertain why they did not
return according to their promise. The Indians who first left had all,
upon their departure, received presents from the Pilgrims, so anxious
were our forefathers to establish friendly relations with the natives
of this New World.
During the first days of the week the colonists were very busy
breaking up their ground and planting their seed. On Wednesday
afternoon, Samoset having left, they again assembled to attend to
their military organization. While thus employed, several savages
appeared on the summit of a hill but a short distance opposite them,
twanging their bow-strings and exhibiting gestures of defiance.
Captain Standish took one man with him, and with two others following
at a distance as a re-enforcement in case of any difficulty, went to
meet them. The savages continued their hostile gesticulation until
Captain Standish drew quite near, and then they precipitately fled.
The next day it was again warm and beautiful, and the little village
of the colonists presented an aspect of industry, peace, and
prosperity. About noon Samoset returned, with one single stranger
accompanying him. This Indian's name was _Squantum_. He had been of
the party seized by Weymouth or by Hunt--the authorities are not clear
upon that point--and had been carried to Spain and there sold as a
slave. After some years of bondage he succeeded in escaping to
England. Mr. John Slaney, a merchant of London, chanced to meet the
poor fugitive, protected him, and treated him with the greatest
kindness, and finally secured him a passage back to his native land,
from whence he had been so ruthlessly stolen. This Indian, forgetting
the outrage of the knave who had kidnapped him, and remembering only
the great kindness which he had received from his benefactor and from
the people generally in London, in generous requital now attached
himself cordially to the Pilgrims, and became their firm friend. His
residence in England had rendered him quite familiar with the English
language, and he proved invaluable not only as an interpreter, but
also in instructing them respecting the modes of obtaining a support
in the wilderness.
Squantum brought the welcome intelligence that his sovereign chief,
the great Massasoit, had heard of the arrival of the Pilgrims, and was
approaching, with a retinue of sixty warriors, to pay them a friendly
visit. With characteristic dignity and caution, the Indian chief had
encamped upon a neighboring hill, and had sent Squantum as his
messenger to inform the white men of his arrival, and to conduct the
preliminaries for an interview. Massasoit was well acquainted with the
conduct of the unprincipled English seamen who had skirted the coast,
committing all manner of outrages, and he was too wary to place
himself in the power of strangers respecting whom he entertained such
well-grounded suspicions. He therefore established himself upon a
hill, where he could not be taken by surprise, and where, in case of
an attack, he could easily, if necessary, retreat.
The Pilgrims also, overawed by their lonely position, and by the
mysterious terrors of the wilderness and of the savage, deemed it
imprudent, when such a band of armed warriors were in their vicinity,
to send any of their feeble force from behind the intrenchments which
they had reared. After several messages, through their interpreter,
had passed to and fro, Massasoit, who, though unlettered, was a man of
reflection and of sagacity, proposed that the English should send one
of their number to his encampment to communicate to him their designs
in settling upon lands which had belonged to one of his vassal tribes.
One of the colonists, Edward Winslow, consented to go upon this
embassy. He took as a present for the barbarian monarch two knives and
a copper chain, with a jewel attached to it. Massasoit received him
with dignity, yet with courtesy. Mr. Winslow, through Squantum as his
interpreter, addressed the chieftain, surrounded by his warriors, in
the sincere words of peace and friendship. The Pilgrims of the
Mayflower were good men. They wished to do right, and to establish
amicable relations with the Indians.
[Illustration: MASSASOIT AND HIS WARRIORS.]
Massasoit listened in silence and very attentively to the speech of
Mr. Winslow. At its close he expressed his approval, and, after a
short conference with his councilors, decided to accept Governor
Carver's invitation to visit him, if Mr. Winslow would remain in
the Indian encampment as a hostage during his absence. This
arrangement being assented to, Massasoit set out, with twenty of his
warriors, for the settlement of the Pilgrims. In token of peace, they
left all their weapons behind. In Indian file, and in perfect silence,
the savages advanced until they reached a small brook near the log
huts of the colonists. Here they were met by Captain Miles Standish
with a military array of six men. A salute of six muskets was fired in
honor of the regal visit. Advancing a little farther, Governor Carver
met them with his reserve of military pomp, and the monarch of the
Wampanoags and his chieftains were escorted with the music of the drum
and fife to a log hut decorated with such embellishments as the
occasion could furnish. Two or three cushions, covered with a green
rug, were spread as a seat for the king and the governor in this
formal and most important interview. Governor Carver took the hand of
Massasoit and kissed it. The Indian chieftain immediately imitated his
example, and returned the salute. The governor then, in accordance
with mistaken views of hospitality, presented his guest with a goblet
of ardent spirits. The noble Indian, whose throat had never yet been
tainted by this curse, took a draught which caused his eyes almost to
burst from their sockets, and drove the sweat gushing from every pore.
With the instinctive imperturbability of his race, he soon recovered
from the shock, and a long, friendly, and very satisfactory conference
was held.
Massasoit was a man of mark, mild, genial, affectionate, yet bold,
cautious, and commanding. He was in the prime of life, of majestic
stature, and of great gravity of countenance and manners. His face was
painted red, after the manner of the warriors of his tribe. His glossy
raven hair, well oiled, was cut short in front, but hung thick and
long behind. He and his companions were picturesquely dressed in skins
and with plumes of brilliant colors.
As evening approached, Massasoit withdrew with his followers to his
encampment upon the hill. The treachery of Hunt and such men had made
him suspicious, and he was not willing to leave himself for the night
in the power of the white men. He accordingly arranged his encampment
to guard against surprise, and, sentinels being established, the rest
of the party threw themselves upon their hemlock boughs, with their
bows and arrows in their hands, and were soon fast asleep. The
Pilgrims also kept a vigilant watch that night, for neither party had
full confidence in the other. The next morning Captain Standish, with
another man, ventured into the camp of the Indians. They were received
with great kindness, and gradually confidence was strengthened between
the two parties, and the most friendly relations were established.
After entering into a formal alliance, offensive and defensive, the
conference terminated to the satisfaction of all parties, and the
tawny warriors again disappeared in the pathless wilderness. They
returned to Mount Hope, then called Pokanoket, the seat of Massasoit,
about forty miles from Plymouth.
The ravages of death had now dwindled the colony down to fifty men,
women, and children. But health was restored with the returning sun
and the cheering breezes of spring. Thirty acres of land were planted,
and Squantum proved himself a true and valuable friend, teaching them
how to cultivate Indian corn, and how to take the various kinds of
fish.
In June Governor Carver died, greatly beloved and revered by the
colony. Mr. William Bradford was chosen as his successor, and by
annual election was continued governor for many years. Early in July
Governor Bradford sent a deputation from Plymouth, with Squantum as
their interpreter, to return the visit of Massasoit. There were
several quite important objects to be obtained by this mission. It was
a matter of moment to ascertain the strength of Massasoit, the number
of his warriors, and the state in which he lived. They wished also, by
a formal visit, to pay him marked attention, and to renew their
friendly correspondence. There was another subject of delicacy and of
difficulty which it had become absolutely necessary to bring forward.
Lazy, vagabond Indians had for some time been increasingly in the
habit of crowding the little village of the colonists and eating out
their substance. They would come with their wives and their children,
and loiter around day after day, without any delicacy whatever,
clamoring for food, and devouring every thing which was set before
them like famished wolves. The Pilgrims, anxious to maintain friendly
relations with Massasoit, were reluctant to drive away his subjects by
violence, but the longer continuance of such hospitality could not be
endured.
The governor sent to the Indian king, as a present, a gaudy horseman's
coat. It was made of red cotton trimmed with showy lace. At 10
o'clock in the morning of the second of July, the two ambassadors, Mr.
Winslow and Mr. Hopkins, with Squantum as guide and interpreter, set
forward on their journey. It was a warm and sunny day, and with
cheerful spirits the party threaded the picturesque trails of the
Indians through the forest. These trails were paths through the
wilderness through which the Indians had passed for uncounted
centuries. They were distinctly marked, and almost as renowned as the
paved roads of the Old World, which once reverberated beneath the
tramp of the legions of the Caesars. Here generation after generation
of the moccasined savage, with silent tread, threaded his way,
delighting in the gloom which no ray of the sun could penetrate, in
the silence interrupted only by the cry of the wild beast in his lair,
and awed by the marvelous beauty of lakes and streams, framed in
mountains and fringed with forests, where water-fowl of every variety
of note and plumage floated buoyant upon the wave, and pierced the air
with monotonous and melancholy song. Ten or twelve Indians--men,
women, and children--followed them, annoying them not a little with
their intrusiveness and their greedy grasp of food. The embassy
traveled about fifteen miles to a small Indian village upon a branch
of Taunton River. Here they arrived about three o'clock in the
afternoon. The natives called the place Namaschet. It was within the
limits of the present town of Middleborough. The Indians received the
colonists with great hospitality, offering them the richest viands
which they could furnish--heavy bread made of corn, and the spawn of
shad, which they ate from wooden spoons. These glimpses of poverty and
wretchedness sadly detract from the romantic ideas we have been wont
to cherish of the free life of the children of the forest. The savages
were exceedingly delighted with the skill which their guests displayed
in shooting crows in their corn-fields.
As Squantum told them that it was more than a day's travel from there
to Pokanoket or Mount Hope, they resumed their journey, and went about
eight miles farther, till they came, about sunset, to another stream,
where they found a party of natives fishing. They were here cheered
with the aspect of quite a fruitful region. The ground on both sides
of the river was cleared, and had formerly waved with corn-fields. The
place had evidently once been densely populated, but the plague of
which we have spoken swept, it is said, every individual into the
grave. A few wandering Indians had now come to the deserted fields to
fish, and were lazily sleeping in the open air, without constructing
for themselves any shelter. These miserable natives had no food but
fish and a few roasted acorns, and they devoured greedily the stores
which the colonists brought with them. The night was mild and serene,
and was passed without much discomfort in the unsheltered fields.
Early in the morning the journey was resumed, the colonists following
down the stream, now called Fall River, toward Narraganset Bay. Six of
the savages accompanied them a few miles, until they came to a shallow
place, where, by divesting themselves of their clothing, they were
able to wade through the river. Upon the opposite bank there were two
Indians who seemed, with valor which astonished the colonists, to
oppose their passage. They ran down to the margin of the stream,
brandished their weapons, and made all the threatening gestures in
their power. They were, however, appeased by friendly signs, and at
last permitted the passage of the river without resort to violence.
Here, after refreshing themselves, they continued their journey,
following down the western bank of the stream. The country on both
sides of the river had been cleared, and in former years had been
planted with corn-fields, but was now quite depopulated. Several
Indians still accompanied them, treating them with the most remarkable
kindness. It was a cloudless day, and intensely hot. The Indians
insisted upon carrying the superfluous clothing of their newly-found
friends. As they were continually coming to brooks, often quite wide
and deep, running into the river, the Indians eagerly took the
Pilgrims upon their shoulders and carried them through.
[Illustration: THE PALACE OF MASSASOIT.]
During the whole of the day, after crossing the river, they met with but
two Indians on their route, so effectually had the plague swept off the
inhabitants. But the evidence was abundant that the region had formerly
been quite populous with a people very poor and uncultivated. Their
living had been manifestly nothing but fish and corn pounded into coarse
meal. Game must have been so scarce in the woods, and with such
difficulty taken with bows and arrows, that they could very seldom have
been regaled with meat. A more wretched and monotonous existence than
theirs can hardly be conceived. Entirely devoid of mental culture, there
was no range for thought. Their huts were miserable abodes, barely
endurable in pleasant weather, but comfortless in the extreme when the
wind filled them with smoke, or the rain dripped through the branches.
Men, women, children, and dogs slept together at night in the one
littered room, devoured by fleas. The native Indian was a degraded,
joyless savage, occasionally developing kind feelings and noble
instincts, but generally vicious, treacherous, and cruel.
The latter part of the afternoon they arrived at Pokanoket. Much to
their disappointment, they found that Massasoit, uninformed of their
intended visit, was absent on a hunting excursion. As he was, however,
not far from home, runners were immediately dispatched to recall him.
The chieftain had selected his residence with that peculiar taste for
picturesque beauty which characterized the more noble of the Indians.
The hillock which the English subsequently named Mount Hope was a
graceful mound about two hundred feet high, commanding an extensive
and remarkably beautiful view of wide, sweeping forests and indented
bays.
This celebrated mound is about four miles from the city of Fall River.
From its summit the eye now ranges over Providence, Bristol, Warren,
Fall River, and many other minor towns. The whole wide-spread
landscape is embellished with gardens, orchards, cultivated fields,
and thriving villages. Gigantic steamers plow the waves, and the sails
of a commerce which girdles the globe whitens the beautiful bay.
But, as the tourist sits upon the solitary summit, he forgets the
present in memory of the past. Neither the pyramids of Egypt nor the
Coliseum of the Eternal City are draped with a more sublime antiquity.
Here, during generations which no man can number, the sons of the
forest gathered around their council-fires, and struggled, as human
hearts, whether savage or civilized, must ever struggle, against
"life's stormy doom."
Here, long centuries ago, were the joys of the bridal, and the anguish
which gathers around the freshly-opened grave. Beneath the moon, which
then, as now, silvered this mound, "the Indian lover wooed his dusky
maid." Upon the beach, barbaric childhood reveled, and their red limbs
were bathed in the crystal waves.
Here, in ages long since passed away, the war-whoop resounded through
the forest. The shriek of mothers and maidens pierced the skies as
they fell cleft by the tomahawk; and all the horrid clangor of war,
with "its terror, conflagration, tears, and blood," imbittered ten
thousand fold the ever bitter lot of humanity.
"'Tis dangerous to rouse the lion;
Deadly to cross the tiger's path;
But the most terrible of terrors
Is man himself in his wild wrath."
In the midst of this attractive scene, perhaps nothing is more
conspicuous than the spires of the churches--those churches of a pure
Christianity to which New England is indebted for all her intelligence
and prosperity. It was upon the Bible that our forefathers laid the
foundations of the institutions of this New World; and, though they
made some mistakes, for they were but mortal, still they were sincere,
conscientious Christian men, and their Christianity has been the
legacy from which their children have derived the greatest benefits.
Two hundred years ago, our fathers, from the summit of Mount Hope,
looked upon a dreary wilderness through which a few naked savages
roamed. How different the spectacle which now meets the eye of the
tourist!
Massasoit, informed by his runners of the guests who had so
unexpectedly arrived, immediately returned. Mr. Winslow and Mr.
Hopkins, wishing to honor the Indian king, fired a salute, each one
discharging his gun as Massasoit approached. The king, who had heard
the report of fire-arms before, was highly gratified; but the women
and children were struck with exceeding terror, and, like affrighted
deer, leaped from their wigwams and fled into the woods. Squantum
pursued them, and, by assurances that no harm was to be feared, at
length induced them cautiously to return.
There was then an interchange of sundry ceremonies of state to render
the occasion imposing. The scarlet coat, with its gaudy embroidery of
lace, was placed upon Massasoit, and a chain of copper beads was
thrown around his neck. He seemed much pleased with these showy
trappings, and his naked followers were exceedingly delighted in
seeing their chieftain thus decorated. A motley group now gathered
around the Indian king and the English embassy. Massasoit then made a
long speech, to which the natives seemed to listen with great
interest, occasionally responding with applause. It was now night. The
two envoys were weary with travel, and were hungry, for they had
consumed all their food, not doubting that they should find abundance
at the table of the sovereign of all these realms. But, to their
surprise, Massasoit was entirely destitute, not having even a mouthful
to offer them. Supperless they went to bed. In the following language
they describe their accommodations for the night:
"Late it grew, but victuals he offered none, so we desired to
go to rest. He laid us on the bed with himself and his wife,
they at the one end and we at the other, it being only planks
laid a foot from the ground, and a thin mat upon them. Two
more of his chief men, for want of room, pressed by and upon
us, so that we were worse weary of our lodging than of our
journey."
The next day there was gathered at Mount Hope quite a concourse of the
adjoining Indians, subordinate chiefs and common people. They engaged
in various games of strength and agility, with skins for prizes. The
English also fired at a mark, amazing the Indians with the accuracy of
their shot. It was now noon, and the English, who had slept without
supper, had as yet received no breakfast. At one o'clock two large
fishes were brought in, which had been speared in the bay. They were
hastily broiled upon coals, and forty hungry men eagerly devoured
them.
The afternoon passed slowly and tediously away, and again the Pilgrims
went supperless to bed. Again they passed a sleepless night, being
kept awake by vermin, hunger, and the noise of the savages. Friday
morning they rose before the sun, resolved immediately to commence
their journey home. Massasoit was very importunate to have them remain
longer with him.
"But we determined," they write in their graphic narrative,
"to keep the Sabbath at home, and feared that we should
either be light-headed for want of sleep, for what with bad
lodgings, the savages' barbarous singing (for they use to
sing themselves asleep), lice, and fleas within doors, and
musketoes without, we could hardly sleep all the time of our
being there; we much fearing that if we should stay any
longer we should not be able to recover home for want of
strength; so that on the Friday morning before the sunrising
we took our leave and departed, Massasoit being both grieved
and ashamed that he could no better entertain us."
Their journey home was a very weary one. They would, perhaps, have
perished from hunger had they not obtained from the Indians whom they
met a little parched corn, which was considered a very great delicacy,
a squirrel, and a shad. Friday night, as they were asleep in the open
air, a tempest of thunder and lightning arose, with floods of rain.
Their fire was speedily extinguished, and they were soaked to the
skin. Saturday night, just as the twilight was passing away into
darkness, they reached their homes in a storm of rain, wet, weary,
hungry, and sore.
The result of this mission was, however, important. They renewed their
treaty of peace with Massasoit, and made arrangements that they were
to receive no Indians as guests unless Massasoit should send them with
a copper necklace, in token that they came from him.
In the autumn of this same year a boy from the colony got lost in the
woods. He wandered about for five days, living upon berries, and then
was found by some Indians in the forests of Cape Cod. Massasoit, as
soon as he heard of it, sent word that the boy was found. He was in
the hands of the same tribe who, in consequence of the villainies of
Hunt, had assailed the Pilgrims so fiercely at the First Encounter.
The savages treated the boy kindly, and had him at Nauset, which is
now the town of Eastham, near the extremity of the Cape. Governor
Bradford immediately sent ten men in a boat to rescue the boy.
They coasted along the first day very prosperously, notwithstanding a
thunder-shower in the afternoon, with violent wind and rain. At night
they put into Barnstable Bay, then called Cummaquid. Squantum and
another Indian were with them as friends and interpreters. They deemed
it prudent not to land, but anchored for the night in the middle of
the bay. The next morning they saw some savages gathering shell-fish
upon the shore. They sent their two interpreters with assurances of
friendship, and to inquire for the boy. The savages were very
courteous, informed them that the boy was farther down the Cape at
Nauset, and invited the whole party to come on shore and take some
refreshments. Six of the colonists ventured ashore, having first
received four of the natives to remain in their boat as hostages. The
chief of this small tribe, called the Cummaquids, was a young man of
about twenty-six years of age, and appeared to be a very remarkable
character. He was dignified and courteous in his demeanor, and
entertained his guests with a native politeness which surprised them
much.
While in this place an old Indian woman came to see them, whom they
judged to be a hundred years of age. As soon as she came into their
presence she was overwhelmed with emotion, and cried most
convulsively. Upon inquiring the reason, the Pilgrims were told that
her three sons were kidnapped by Captain Hunt. The young men had been
invited on board his ship to trade. He lured them below, seized and
bound them, and carried them to Spain, where he sold them as slaves.
The unhappy and desolate mother seemed quite heart-broken with grief.
The Pilgrims addressed to her words of sympathy, assured her that
Captain Hunt was a bad man, whom every good man in England condemned,
and gave her some presents.
They remained with this kind but deeply-wronged people until after
dinner. Then _Iyanough_ himself, the noble young chief of the tribe,
with two of his warriors, accompanied them on board the boat to assist
them in their search for the boy. A fair wind from the west filled
their sails, and late in the evening, when it was too dark to land,
they approached Nauset. Here was the hostile tribe whose prowess the
colonists had experienced in the First Encounter. The villain, Captain
Hunt, had stolen from them twenty men. It was consequently deemed
necessary to practice much caution. Iyanough and Squantum went on
shore there to conciliate the natives and to inform them of the object
of the mission. The next morning a great crowd of natives had
gathered, and were anxious to get into the boat. The English, however,
prudently, would allow but two to enter at a time. The day was passed
in parleying. About sunset a train of a hundred Indians appeared,
bringing the lost boy with them. One half remained at a little
distance, with their bows and arrows; the other half, unarmed, brought
the boy to the boat, and delivered him to his friends. The colonists
made valuable presents to _Aspinet_, the chief of the tribe, and also
paid abundantly for the corn which, it will be remembered, they took
from a deserted house when they were first coasting along the shore in
search of a place of settlement. They then spread their sails, and a
fair wind soon drove them fifty miles across the bay to their homes.
The Wampanoags do not appear to have constituted a very numerous
tribe, but, through the intellectual and military energy of their
chieftain, Massasoit, they had acquired great power. The present town
of Bristol, Rhode Island, was the region principally occupied by the
tribe; but Massasoit extended his sway over more than thirty tribes,
who inhabited Cape Cod and all the country extending between
Massachusetts and Narraganset Bays, reaching inland to where the head
branches of the Charles River and the Pawtucket River meet. It will be
seen at once, by reference to the map, how wide was the sway of this
Indian monarch, and how important it was for the infant colony to
cultivate friendly relations with a sovereign who could combine all
those tribes, and direct many thousand barbarian warriors to rush like
wolves upon the feeble settlement.