Alas! for them, their day is o'er,
Their fires are out from shore to shore,
No more for them the wild deer bounds--
The plough is on their hunting grounds.
SPRAGUE.
When Arundel awoke the next morning, he found that the Indian, who had
coiled himself upon the floor and there passed the night, was nowhere
to be seen. It was, indeed, no wonder, since the rays of the sun had,
for more than an hour, been striving to penetrate the oiled paper,
which served instead of window glass; and no sooner did the young man
realize the lateness of the hour than he sprang from his couch,
thinking all the while what Waqua would say to his dilatoriness. After
making a hasty toilette, he descended the stairs, and, crossing the
public room to the door, looked out upon the street. There was quite a
number of persons passing backward and forward, many of whom were
dressed in the accoutrements of soldiers, and at these he stood gazing
awhile and looking round, if perchance he might discover anything of
the Indian. But, as he did not appear, the young man turned back to
await his coming.
Hour after hour passed away, but Waqua returned not; and Arundel began
to fear that his companion had taken some offence, either at himself,
or at what had occurred the evening previous. He ransacked his memory,
for the purpose of discovering if he had said or done anything to
which exception could be taken, or had omitted any courtesy or
attention; but he could find nothing to reproach himself with. He was
unable to believe that Waqua would steal away without formally taking
leave, on account of any slight or impertinence from another, after
the command of himself he had exhibited following the violence of
Spikeman; and, finally, tried to avoid thinking of the subject,
expecting that the truant would turn up at some time during the day,
and explain his absence.
Meanwhile, it was understood that the expected deputation of the
Taranteens had arrived, and been received at the house of the
Governor. Armed men had been constantly coming into town; their wives
and children, in some instances, accompanying them; until the
settlement had become a scene of gay and animated confusion. The place
fixed upon for the reception of the ambassadors (there being no
building sufficiently large to contain the number present, and who
were anxious to witness the ceremony) was an elevation near the
village, commanding a view of the buildings, of the green rolling bay,
and of the ships tossing on its waves. Here, under the shade of a
patriarchal elm, spreading like an umbrella its immense and gracefully
drooping branches over a wide extent of green turf, Winthrop was to
give public audience to the dusky delegates.
The hour for the reception had nearly arrived, when Arundel strolled
to the place appointed. He found it covered with a crowd of five or
six hundred persons, including the women and children. The number of
armed men might have been two-thirds of the whole. The women were
gossipping together, and the children amusing themselves in sports
becoming their age, while the soldiers were ranged in double files,
extending from a large chair or kind of throne placed near the body of
the tree, thus forming a lane, only by passing through which could
access be had to it. The spot where the chair was placed was covered
to some little distance around with scarlet cloth--the chair itself as
representative of majesty, with cloth of gold--and on either side
stood grimly a culverin or small cannon, capable of carrying a ball of
seventeen or eighteen pounds in weight--silent, but eloquent orators,
to convince of the ability of him who might occupy the seat to enforce
his words. Other chairs, to the number of perhaps twenty, were ranged
in a semi-circle on either side of the seat intended for Winthrop;
while against the body of the tree were leaned partisans and halberds;
and it was hung about on nails driven in for the occasion, with
shining corslets, and swords, and daggers.
Arundel had barely time to run his eyes over the preparations, when a
salvo of cannon announced that the Governor was starting from his
house, and presently appeared the procession, preceded by martial
music. First came the musicians, whose number it must be confessed was
not very large; next followed twenty stout men bearing halberds or
staves of about five feet in length, finished off at the end with a
steel head in the shape of an axe; immediately after these marched the
Governor, attended by his Council of Assistants, all wearing swords at
their sides, and several "ministers;" after whom followed the
Taranteen embassy, consisting of about a dozen noble looking Indians
of various ages, from thirty to seventy; and the whole was closed by
two or three hundred men, completely armed with both the offensive and
defensive arms of the period. The steeple-crowned hats, the slashed
sleeves, the red stockings, russet boots, and rosettes on the shoes,
made a combination which, if it would be quaint and grotesque in our
eyes, was striking to those who witnessed it.
As the procession came nearer, Arundel could see among those in the
immediate neighborhood of Winthrop, the Knight of the Golden Melice,
conspicuous for the richness of his habiliments, adopted either to
heighten the general effect of the ceremonial, or to increase his
authority with the Indians, over some tribes of whom it was known that
he possessed considerable influence. The Knight, indeed, well
understood how much manner and external adornment affect not only the
savage but the civilized man. A perfect master of the former, he was
uniformly courteous. No frown ever deformed his face, nor even wrinkle
ruffled its placid surface, on which was stamped the expression of a
sweet and confiding nature; and, when circumstances required, he knew
how to resort to the latter with an effect which seldom failed of
achieving its purpose.
When the procession reached the files extending from the throne, the
soldiery composing them presented arms, and the musicians stepping on
one side, the Governor, preceded by his halbadiers, and accompanied by
the Knight, his Council, and the Indians, walked between, and seated
himself on the chair of State, while those who were with him occupied
the other seats, and the halbadiers posted themselves around.
As Winthrop took his place, the ranks in front were further opened,
and the two culverins belched out with fire and smoke a loud and
sudden welcome. So near were the Indians to the guns, and so
unexpected to them was the discharge, that some of the younger sprung
to their feet, as if to repel an attack, dropping again into their
places with abashed looks, as their eyes met the reproving glances of
their elders.
Arundel, at this moment, felt a hand upon his shoulder, and turning
round, beheld Waqua. He was instantly struck with the changed
appearance of the Indian. Instead of the few dashes of paint of the
day before, exactly one-half of those portions of his face and person,
which were visible, beginning at the top of the forehead, and
descending down the middle of the nose, was painted with bright
vermillion, the other half remaining of its natural color; his hair
was gathered carefully up into a knot on the top of his head, and bore
a single eagle's feather, and in addition to the light tomahawk which
he had worn before, a heavier one was hanging at his girdle.
"Welcome, my brother, exclaimed Arundel, I did not know but that I had
lost thee. Where hast thou been, and what means the change in thy
appearance?"
"The great white chief invited Waqua to listen to his talk with the
Taranteens, (may the wolf crunch their bones,) and Waqua is here. He
has painted himself according to the custom of his tribe. This
(touching the paint) is for my enemies, and this (in like manner
touching the unpainted portion) is for my friends."
Arundel remembering the strong expressions of dislike towards the
Taranteens which fell from the Indian the day before, and connecting
them with his present preparation, felt some apprehension for what
might happen from his boldly uttered aversion, and determined to keep
close by him, in order to restrain him from imprudences, and to
protect him, if need should arise, from danger. He took care,
therefore, during the rest of the day, to carry Waqua with him
wherever he moved, or to follow the Indian, when the latter's
curiosity tempted him into different parts of the assemblage.
It was seldom, if ever, that the Puritans undertook anything of
importance, either of a private or public character, without invoking
the blessing and guidance of a superior power. There was good policy
as well as piety in the practice; for by admitting the ministers into
their councils, and giving them conspicuous parts to perform therein,
the magistrates secured their good will and powerful influence with
the people; and, indeed, it may well be imagined, that this spiritual
aid in a theocratical commonwealth was a part of the system. On the
present occasion, the whole assembly rose at a signal from Winthrop,
and Mr. Eliot, afterwards known as the Indian Apostle, asked for a
blessing. The prayer was like the man himself, earnest and simple, and
listened to with a fixed attention, that indicated the religious
reverence of the hardy men who were gathered around. The Taranteens
themselves, following the example of the others, stood up and fastened
their dyes intently on the speaker, as if, though not understanding a
word he uttered, they expected to gather some meaning from the motion
of his lips.
When the prayer was ended, Gov. Winthrop rose, and requesting Mr.
Eliot (who was sufficiently familiar with the Algonquin language to
make himself understood in it) to interpret, he commenced an oration
to the ambassadors, each sentence, as it was spoken, being translated
by Mr. Eliot.
Confining himself to such ideas as he thought would be most
appreciable by the rude intellects of the forest children, he began by
expressing his pleasure at the visit, and at the pacific spirit which
was manifested by his red brethren. He spoke of the happiness of
himself and of his people in being able to succor the storm-tossed
Taranteens, and of their readiness to extend kindness to the whole
nation. He pointed out the reciprocal advantages which would result
from the establishment of trade between them, each parting with what
he valued less for what he desired more. He dwelt upon the vast power
of his own nation, living beyond the sea, toward the rising sun, and
riding in safety at pleasure over the mighty waves, in great canoes
with wings, some of which were in sight. He adverted to the pestilence
which had swept the land just previous to the coming of the whites,
hinting that it was the breath of the great Spirit which destroyed the
inhabitants, to make room for his more favored people. He concluded by
saying, that they were all children of the same parent, who was most
pleased at seeing them living together in harmony.
It was impossible to judge, from the countenances or manner of the
Indians, how they were affected by the speech,--only the gutteral
"ugh," responding from time to time to the translation of Mr. Eliot.
This was designed as a sign of attention, or of approval, or the
contrary, but it was difficult to the English to determine in any case
which. In fact, like skilful diplomatists, the ambassadors preserved
their dignity, and concealed their feelings.
When the Governor had resumed his seat, one of the oldest Indians,
after a considerable pause, rose, and stepping forward a few feet, so
as to separate himself from all around, turned his face to Winthrop,
and began a speech in return. It was pronounced with great
deliberation, and rendered into English by the interpreter, as the
orator proceeded.
"The Taranteens," he said, "are a great nation, who having heard that
a people of the same color, but speaking a different language from
their friends the French, had taken possession of the country of the
Aberginians, had sent him and his companions, that with their own eyes
they might see, and with their own ears might hear, if what had been
told them was the truth. Besides, they desired to return thanks for
the kindness shown to their countrymen, which they would not forget.
Let this belt," said the orator, taking a piece of wampompeag from
the hands of one of his companions, and laying it on the ground,
"preserve my words. It is very pleasant," he continued, "to plant the
tree of peace. May the sapling which we shall plant to-day become a
bigger tree than the great elm under which we are assembled, and may
we, for many seasons, dance together in its shade. The Taranteens are
a great people; they have many warriors, and big canoes, and are so
strong, that when they talk of peace, it is not so much for themselves
as for the sake of others; and as my white brother hath said, hath not
the Great Spirit made all men, and doth he not love to see them
playing like children in the grass?
"Now let my white brothers open wide their ears, for I am going to say
a thing which much concerns them and us. We have heard that our white
brothers are very fond of land, and that if we make friends with them
they will try to steal away our land. We care not if they take all the
land of the Aberginians, but they must not think to have any part of
our hunting grounds. We want them all for the game to run in. These
two black belts preserve my words.
"But the Taranteens are a great people, and know how to defend
themselves, and if Owanux attempt to dispossess them, there will be
talk of taking scalps. These three red belts preserve my words.
"My brothers, Owanux will recollect that if the Great Spirit was
offended with the Aberginians, and breathed a hot breath upon them and
so they died, he smiles upon the Taranteens and increases their
number, and makes sharp the points of their arrows, and directs their
tomahawks, and subdues all the tribes around unto them. These two
belts preserve my words.
"As for trade, the Taranteens enjoy already a good trade with their
friends and allies the French; but if they have anything which their
brothers Owanux want, they will not refuse to exchange with them. This
one belt preserve my words."
Having thus spoken, and been greeted from time to time with an
ejaculation from his companions, the old warrior resumed his seat,
amid a shower of "ughs."
He was replied to, at the request of Winthrop, by Eliot himself, who
gladly seized the opportunity to disabuse the Indians of any
prejudices that might have tainted their minds, and to open them for
the reception of that Christianity which he had so much at heart.
"It was on account of the wickedness of the Aberginians," he said,
"that they were swept off from the face of the land, and it was not
merely for the purpose of trade that Owanux or the English had been
sent by the Great Spirit to take their places. If the English became
wicked, they, also, would be destroyed in like manner, and so would
all who should imitate them. But the English were sent to the Indians
with a message which was not painted on bark or handed down with
pieces of wam-pom-peag, but put into a book whence it spoke always the
same words, and they were those which the Great Spirit himself had
spoken with his own voice. The message was to make them better and
happier; and, he hoped, that they would allow him, at another time, to
tell it to them. He heard with great pleasure, and so did the
Governor, how much they loved peace. The English loved peace too, and
would water the young tree they should plant that day, and fence it
round, so that no bear or other wild animal should trample upon it
while it was small. The Great Spirit said in the wise book which He
had given to the English, that He loved peace; and contained many
things, besides, which it would be useful and pleasant for the Indians
to know. The book was called Good Tidings; and he hoped that it would
rejoice the hearts of his Indian friends."
When Eliot had ended, another Indian arose, and said: "That their
friends, the long robes, among the French, had also books, and he had
seen them; but he had never seen a book which could speak the Indian
language. He thought if the Great Spirit had a message in a book for
them, it would be in the Indian language, and that the Great Spirit
would teach the Indians how to read it. He hoped his white brothers
would not be offended if he said, that he should doubt whether the
Great Spirit had a message for them in a book, until he saw the book
itself and heard it talk Indian. That was all he had to say."
It was then that Eliot formed the resolution, by God's grace, to
translate the Bible into the language of the Indians, a work to which
he devoted so many years of his life, and which, in connection with
his unwearied labor of love among the natives, conferred upon him the
honorable and well-merited title of "The Apostle of the Indians."
Various speeches were made after this, on both sides, of which it is
necessary for our purpose to record only one. This was made by one of
the youngest and finest looking of the Taranteens. His roving eyes, in
wandering over the assemblage, had detected the figure of Waqua; and,
as they fell on him, they lighted up with an ominous gleam. He
directed the attention of the Indian next to him, a young man like
himself, to the discovery, who seemed in like manner disturbed. The
two fastened their eyes full on Waqua, but their gaze was returned by
him with a look as bold and stern as theirs. At the first opportunity,
the one who had first observed Waqua rose and spoke.
"Pieskaret," he said, "is a young man, but this is not the first time
his nation has thought him worthy to speak in her councils, and the
winds have blown his name through the forests of Canada, and many days
travel along the margin of the great salt lake. When the deer and the
Aberginians hear it, they fly, though they are afar off."
While uttering these words, he had kept his eyes fastened on the face
of Waqua, as if to watch their effect; and he paused. But the features
of Waqua remained undisturbed, and he steadily returned the fiery
glances of the speaker.
"Pieskaret asks," resumed the Taranteen, "what have the Aberginians to
do with our treaties? Who invited one of them, or did he slink without
being whistled for between the legs of men into our midst?"
Again the speaker paused, but yet the calm Waqua moved not from his
place, nor did he betray emotion.
"The Aberginians," begun the Taranteen again, with a gesture of
contempt, "are cowards and dumb dogs: if spoken to, they dare not
reply, even with a whine: the Taranteens have put petticoats on them,
and there is nothing baser than themselves except their allies, the
Pequots."
The hitherto undisturbed mien of Waqua changed at these last words, as
by magic. With a clear, steady voice, while his stature seemed to
increase, he suddenly cried out:
"Pieskaret, if that be the name of the scolding squaw, is a liar. He
knows that when the Taranteens hear the steps of a Pequot they run
like wood-chucks to their holes. Sassacus says that they are old
women."
Of course, the whole of these speeches was unintelligible, except to
the interpreter, to whom no opportunity was given to translate them,
and to the Indians. Great surprise, therefore, was felt as the
Taranteens all sprung to their feet at the name of Sassacus, and
attempted to push through the dense circle that surrounded them. So
solid, however, was the mass, that this was a work of some difficulty;
even although the politeness of the angry warriors had restrained them
less than it did from jostling others out of the way; and, by the time
when the foremost Indian had reached the spot where Waqua or Sassacus
had stood, the Pequot had vanished. They returned, disappointed, to
their places, snorting the name of the redoubtable warrior who had
ventured from his distant river to intrude upon a council of his
enemies, and shaking their heads with resentment. When Mr. Eliot had
explained to the Governor and Assistants the cause of the excitement,
Winthrop endeavored to appease their indignation by expressions of
regret, and protestations that he was ignorant that the famous
head-sachem of the Pequots was among them; but his words were not
attended with much effect, and it seemed that the council was about to
be broken up, when Sir Christopher asked permission to speak to the
Indians. It was granted; and to the surprise of all the Knight began,
with great fluency, to address them in their own language. The tones
of his voice were as sweet as those of a bubbling spring, and they
seemed to fall with a soothing effect upon the irritated spirits of
the sons of the forest. What he said Eliot himself could not
understand, for the Knight spoke in the peculiar dialect of the
Taranteens, which varies considerably from the Algonquin tongue before
used. For, besides the general language which received from the French
the name of Algonquin, and was nearly universally spoken all along the
border of the Atlantic and far into the interior, the various tribes
had dialects of their own, intelligible indeed to a native familiar
with the parent speech, but strange to one who, like Eliot, had only
an imperfect knowledge of it. As the Knight proceeded, those whom he
addressed became more and more quiet; and when he ended, they
signified their satisfaction at what he had said by the usual, and now
unmistakable "ugh."
By this time, the last red rays of the setting sun were lighting up
the calm, green surface of Boston harbor, and the council shortly
broke up, to resume its sitting on the morrow. The procession was
formed again, and in the order in which they came, Winthrop, attended
by the Taranteens, was escorted to his house. As Arundel was
departing, he felt his arm grasped by some one, and turning round, he
beheld the Knight.
"Where is Waqua?" he inquired, in a low tone. "He was standing near
thee when he spoke."
"I know no better than thyself," answered the young man, "and would
gladly be informed. He vanished suddenly, and without warning."
"I know thee to be his friend, and how thou becamest so. Thou hast now
an opportunity to requite him in kind."
"Show me the way."
"Hie thee, then, to his wigwam, for there likeliest mayest thou find
him, and warn him against peril from these Taranteens, and, it may be,
from the Governor himself."
"Be pleased to explain more clearly, Sir Christopher."
"Waqua is Sassacus, the great head-sachem of the Pequots, between whom
and the Eastern Indians is perpetual hostility. He has given them
deadly cause of offence, and I fear that they mean to revenge
themselves, or that he may commit another imprudent act. It were
better that Sassacus should remove himself away for the present. But I
may not stay longer talking with thee. Adieu."
Arundel, satisfied of the friendship of the Knight to the Indian,
determined at once to follow his counsel. As, however, Sassacus had
undoubtedly sought the forest, he considered it most prudent to
retrace his steps to his lodging, to procure his gun before venturing
into its recesses, where, the prospect was, that he would have to pass
the night. This occasioned some delay, and it was not until the
twilight of the summer evening had faded, and stars were beginning to
twinkle in the sky, that he found himself on the verge of the woods.