And, Douglass, more I tell thee here,
Even in thy pitch of pride,--
Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near,
* * * *
I tell thee thou'rt defied.
MARMION.
Three weeks followed after the events recorded, without the occurrence
of anything deserving special mention. The life of the colonists went
on as usual, in erecting new tenements, in cultivating their farms,
and in such other occupations as their situation made necessary. But
little was seen of the Knight in the settlement, it being understood
that he was amusing himself as usual in the sports of the forest. He
did occasionally, however, make his appearance in the village, in the
prosperity of which he manifested an interest. Notwithstanding the
slighting manner in which he had spoken of Arundel, and the
displeasure of Spikeman at the favor which he showed the young man,
his conduct toward him remained unchanged. As before, Arundel was
frequently at Sir Christopher's place, and often accompanied him on
short expeditions, though never on distant excursions, which required
several days.
The interest of the young man in the Knight increased daily. Sir
Christopher's manners were so gracious, his temper so sweet and
equable, and the sentiments he expressed so noble, that it was
impossible an ingenuous youth should escape their fascination. Yet did
Arundei fancy that the attachment which he felt was hardly returned.
It might be a mere fancy springing from a jealous sensitiveness, which
is disappointed if it be not paid in the full measure of its own coin.
Perhaps the inexperienced youth was unreasonable in expecting from his
senior, schooled to greater caution by intercourse with the world, the
demonstrativeness which characterized his own conduct. Be it as it
may, upon more acquaintance, the Knight seemed to his young friend to
resemble nothing so much as a polished rapier, which, while it shines
to the eye, is cold to the touch. Of the pale lady Geraldine he saw
little. He had noticed accidentally a circumstance in reference to
her, for which he was unable to account. Having arrived late one
afternoon at the residence of the Knight, he found, upon inquiring
after him, that he had been absent several days, and was not expected
to return for two or three more. Arundel then asked to see the lady,
but was answered that she was confined sick to her room and unable to
receive any one. Late as it was, for the sun was setting, he was
preparing to return to the settlement, when he heard sounding from the
edge of the forest the Knight's hunting horn. He stepped to the outer
door, and beheld Sir Christopher advancing with the lady.
The former was habited in his usual hunting gear, while the dress of
the lady Geraldine consisted of an over-coat of dark cloth, falling
just below the knee, fitting tightly about the chest, and rising high
into the neck. On her feet were moccasins, of the natural russet shade
of the leather, laced up the calf of the leg, so that they nearly
reached the skirt, and on her head she wore a black leather cap,
ornamented with an ostrich's feather, beneath the protection of which
her hair fell down in plaits upon her back. The dress was a mixture of
the civilized and of the savage, and as she approached, with a little
color in her cheeks, occasioned by the exercise, Arundel thought that
she looked even beautiful. Her manner appeared to him to betray
confusion, but there was no embarrassment on the part of the Knight.
He welcomed his visitor with his customary politeness, merely
inquiring how long it was since he had arrived, adding, that his
cousin had been persuaded to accompany him on a hunting expedition,
for the sake of her health, which would account for the disorder of
his house. The two were accompanied by several natives, among whom was
the little girl; but their hunt it would seem had been unsuccessful,
for they had not much game. A falsehood had been told by the domestic,
evidently to conceal the absence of the lady, which Arundel could
explain only on the supposition that it was designed to mislead others
and not himself, and was said to him only because the servant was
unable to discriminate.
In spite of the vigilance of Spikeman, Arundel, aided by the cunning
of Prudence, and the connivance of the Assistant's wife, had two or
three times seen Eveline; and the lovers, with protestations of
eternal fidelity, encouraged each other to look forward to happier
days. Philip Joy too, though in disobedience to the orders of the
Knight, who had strictly commanded him not to put foot upon the soil
under the jurisdiction of Winthrop, continued to keep up a
communication with his mistress. Pretty Prudence, like a beleaguered
city hard bested, kept the enemy Spikeman at bay; nor did he, with all
his parallels and circumvallations, make any progress. Not so,
however, thought the Assistant, (for what man cannot the cunning of a
coquette deceive?) who every once in a while fancied the fortress was
about to capitulate. Whenever he began to despair, a few sweet smiles,
or a word of encouragement, were sufficient to re-kindle hope; for
though the girl hated him, she yet took a mischievous pleasure in
practising her caprices on him, and keeping him dangling at her apron
strings.
Such was the state of things, when one morning a canoe was seen
entering the harbor of Boston, containing a couple of Indians. They
paddled directly up to the wharf, where several persons were standing,
looking on, while others were engaged in various employments connected
with commerce, and sedately stepping on shore, one of them hauled the
canoe upon the beach, beyond the rising of the tide. This being done,
they advanced in the direction of the group of white men. The one who
was evidently the leader, as well from his walking first, (the other
stepping in his track,) as well as from the superior richness of his
dress, which was the skin of a moose loosely disposed over his
shoulders as a robe, and that of a deer divested of its hair,
beautifully tanned, and painted in bright colors, for a breech cloth,
with the feathers of some bird in his scalp lock; while the garments
of his follower were merely deer skins dressed with the hair;
pronounced, as soon as they came within about a rod of the white men,
the single word "Taranteen," and then both stopped. So similar were
the dress and general appearance of the Indian tribes to one another,
that the eye alone would have been insufficient to detect a
difference; but the utterance of the word indicated at once to which
one the new comers belonged, and their desire to have it immediately
understood. Various questions were now asked by the curious, who
thronged around the savages, but no answer was returned save the word
Taranteen, and some words that sounded like an attempt at French.
The gallant Captain Sparhawk, who, to judge from the part he took in
the conversation, and the emphasis wherewith he expressed his
opinions, was the principal personage present, having exhausted his
stock of Spanish, and German, and French phrases which he had picked
up in his trading voyages, as well as sundry uncouth sounds it was his
pleasure to call Indian, in a vain attempt to make himself understood,
at last decided that the only proper course was to take them before
the Governor. At the mention of Winthrop's name, the Indian's face was
lighted up with a look of intelligence, and he made a motion With his
head as though he knew for whom it was intended.
"Do ye see now, my hearties," cried the gratified Captain, "the
ignorant beggar understands me after all. I mistrusted, from the
beginning, that he was only playing 'possum, as they say down in
Virginny. For look ye, ye lubbers, it would be strange if a man who
has been buen' camarada with the Spaniard, and guter Gesell with the
Dutchman, and parleywood with Mounseer, and made the weight of his
ship in gold for his owners, out of these here salvages, shouldn't be
able to speak their gibberish. It's not so hard after all, do ye see,
when one gets the weather guage of it. But here, some o' ye, gallivant
the red skins up to the Governor, (a good enough fellow in his way, I
dare say, if he were not so d----d hard on drinking healths,) with my
compliments, with the compliments of Capt. Sparhawk, (do ye hear?) and
let him know how they drifted ashore. And hark ye, if he should be
inclined to a little agreeable conversation with the tanned hides,
just let him send me an invitation, and I shall be happy to officiate
as interpreter. Heave ahead, Bill Pantry, and take command of the
squad. You've been long enough under my command to know how to do the
honors in a gentlemanly way."
Accordingly Bill Pantry, in obedience to the Orders of his Captain,
which seemed to the bystanders the most sensible suggestion, took
possession of the Indians, and escorted them to the Governor's house.
It so happened, by an accident, that the invaluable services of Capt.
Sparhawk, as a linguist, were not needed on the occasion, for upon the
strangers being announced by one of the soldiers on guard at the door,
the Knight of the Golden Melice was found to be with Winthrop.
As the Indians entered the room, Winthrop rose, and with great
urbanity, offered his hand to him who appeared to be the principal. To
his astonishment, however, the Taranteen extended not his own.
"How is this?" exclaimed Winthrop. "Is this intentional discourtesy,
or are ye ignorant of the customs of the English?"
Hereupon the principal Indian uttered a sentence or two,
unintelligible to Winthrop.
"Thou dost understand the language of the Taranteens, Sir
Christopher," he said. "May it please you, who are so happily here, to
explain his meaning?"
"He says," replied the Knight, "that he has been sent as a messenger
by his nation, and that he hopes you will respect his character."
"Surely," said Winthrop. "How could he imagine the contrary? Who can
impeach our faith?"
"You forget," said the Knight, "what suspicions must have been
engendered by the unhappy termination of the late embassy."
"It will be difficult to persuade me," said Winthrop, "that it was
other than a broil, wherein our people had no part. I cannot be
deceived," continued he, waving his hand, observing that Sir
Christopher was about to reply, "by the cunning stratagem resorted to,
for the purpose of averting suspicion. But a truce with this. Say to
him he is as safe as his child, if he has one, in his wigwam. What
says he now?" he inquired, after the Knight had interpreted his words,
and the Indian replied.
"He asks where are the four companions of Pieskaret."
"Tell him I know not, but suppose they have either returned to their
homes, or been destroyed by hostile Indians."
When this was explained, the stately savage sadly smiled, and shook
his head. He then spoke again.
"He says," answered the Knight, to the look of Winthrop, "that it is
not the custom of Taranteen ambassadors to run away, and that they
know how to protect themselves from the Aberginians."
"I protest," said Winthrop, "that, however different my own opinion, I
do half believe that these blinded savages in fact imagine their
tribes-men were murdered by the whites. To be deplored is it that such
an opinion should get footing among them, staining as it doth our good
name and pregnant with many possible evils. Assure him, Sir
Christopher, of my grief at what has happened; of my sincere desire to
discover how Pieskaret lost his life; of what has become of his
missing people; and of my readiness, if it can be shown that an
Englishman has in anywise connection therewith, to render to the
Taranteens perfect satisfaction."
The Indian listened to all this with the deepest attention as it was
explained to him, and then replied:
"Pieskaret is gone, and his kindred will see him no more The eyes of
his wife are swollen with weeping, and his children, like little birds
in the nest, open their mouths for food; but Pieskaret comes not to
fill them. His feet were like those of a deer, and his voice like the
shouting of the great salt lake on the rocks. Woe is me, for I shall
see my brother no more. But he is glad on the happy hunting grounds of
brave warriors. It is well with him: we know where he is, but we know
not where are our brothers who were with Pieskaret. We know that the
English love slaves, and we fear that they have made slaves of our
brothers. We will turn away our eyes from the widow of Pieskaret and
his little children, and will stop our ears so that we cannot hear
their crying, and forget the fate of Pieskaret, if the white chief
will return our brothers."
"Alas! unhappy that I am," said Winthrop, "that this new suspicion
should fill the minds of the savages. Assure him, upon my faith as a
Christian--upon my honor as a gentleman--make the asseveration as
solemn as thou canst--that he suspects us falsely."
But the grave chief abandoned not the idea. With eyes searching the
countenance of the Governor, he said:
"The Taranteens will give many belts of wampompeag and will heap up
their canoes with skins for Owanux, as a ransom for their tribes-men."
"Tell him," said Winthrop, "that, overlooking the insult of doubting
my word, if they were to give me belts of wampompeag extending from
here to the sun, and skins to cover the ground from Shawmut to his
country, I could not restore his tribes-men, for I know nought of
them."
"When my brothers came to visit the white chief, they placed
themselves in his keeping and feared not the darkness, for they knew
that he was very powerful. They slept like a pappoose on its mother's
bosom."
"I understand," replied Winthrop, "thou wouldst make me responsible in
particular for the misfortune of thy friends; but my conscience
reproaches me not If they are dead, it is probably in consequence of
their own default; and, I repeat, I believe not that an Englishman had
a hand in their destruction."
Here the Taranteen, who acted as spokesman, turning to his companion,
uttered a sentence; whereupon the other, feeling in the folds of his
deer skin robe, produced a pipe, the bowl of which was made of a
reddish clay, into which was inserted, for a stem, a reed beautifully
ornamented with black and white shells, and bright colored feathers of
various birds. This the orator received from the hands of his
follower, and again addressed the Governor:
"The Taranteens are a great nation, and they love peace. It pleases
them to see the smoke as it ascends from the calumet. It is more
beautiful to their eyes than the white summer clouds which protect
them from the heat of the sun. They would be glad to smoke with
Owanux, but they cannot do it now, because should they attempt it, the
blood of Pieskaret would put out the fire and the groans of his four
brothers would agitate us so that the pipe would fall from our hands.
I want the white chief to strengthen our hands, so that we can hold
the calumet firmly, and perhaps that will satisfy Pieskaret too."
"I understand him," said Winthrop, after the Knight had interpreted,
"but let him proceed."
"If the white chief will deliver to us the murderers of Pieskaret, and
release our brothers from slavery," said the Taranteen, slowly and
impressively, "it is well, and we will smoke with Owanux and forget
what has happened; but if he will not,"--and here his voice sounded
like the growl of a bear, as, putting his hand into his bosom, he took
out a small package and handed it to Winthrop,--"we speak to the
white chief thus:"
The Governor received the package, and saw that it consisted of a
tomahawk in the centre, around which were placed several small arrows
tipped with a red dye, and tied together with the stuffed skin of a
rattle-snake, the rattles of which sounded as he took the ominous
present into his hand. He waited composedly until the Knight had
explained the words, though he comprehended at once the meaning of the
savage, and then answered:
"If the Taranteens are a great nation, they are a nation of fools,
else why do they not listen to my words? I tell thee a white English
chief cannot lie; the Great Spirit will not permit a Christian chief
to lie. In vain have I asserted our innocence in this matter; in vain
have I expressed sorrow, and humiliated myself to thy reproaches. But
the English know how to treat those who, faithless themselves, believe
not in the faith of others. Behold!"
Winthrop drew his rapier, and cut the snake skin so that the tomahawk
and arrows fell apart. Placing the skin upon a table, he next took up
the arrows, and, breaking several at a time, let the pieces drop at
his feet. Then seizing the tomahawk, he dashed it with such violence
on the hearth of the fire-place, that the handle flew off and the
stone head was broken. Lastly, taking down from a nail in the wall
whereon they hung, a powder-horn and pouch of bullets, he filled the
skin with powder and ball, and held it out to the Taranteen.
"Return now to thy people," he said, looking at the Indian with a
stern aspect, "and tell them what thou hast seen and heard. Tell them
that, though the English love peace, they fear not war. Tell them that
we have never wronged the Taranteens by word or deed, nor is it our
intention now to punish them for their injurious suspicions. But tell
them, also that, as I have broken their arrows and dashed their
war-axe, in pieces, so will I serve them, if the north-wind brings to
my ears a whisper of evil designs from them. And as I have stuffed the
snake skin with powder and ball, so will I fill their bodies with the
same. Return."
As Winthrop uttered these words with a firm voice and imposing
manner--words so explained by his actions that they needed no
interpretation--he was confronted by the Taranteen with a dignity
equal to his own. The demeanor of the savage was as calm as if he were
smoking a pipe in his wigwam. He quietly followed every motion with
his eyes, listened with all attention, as if he understood what was
said, and, when Winthrop had concluded, took the loaded skin and
handed it to his follower. The inferior Indian shrunk as he received
the portentous powder and shot in their strange envelope, but whatever
apprehensions he felt, he succeeded in conquering them, taking care
however to hold the missive at a little distance from his person.
"Tender now our hospitality," said Winthrop to the Knight, "so long as
they remain among us."
"But the Taranteens showed no disposition to accept the offer.
Something was growled by the principal one, which Sir Christopher
interpreted to intimate a desire to depart.
"Be it so," replied Winthrop. "Moulton," he added, calling a soldier,
"take with you Gamlyn, and escort these savages with all civility to
their canoes. And should they desire anything to promote the comfort
of their return, let it be furnished and placed to my account."
The orders of the Governor were explained to the Indians by the
Knight, and they left the room in the care of the soldiers.
"Sir Christopher," said Winthrop, on their departure, "this is a
miserable coil. Now will these misguided savages, instigated I doubt
not by the emissaries of Rome, soon be yelling upon our borders, and
seeking to imbrue their hands in our blood. Were we dealing only with
the natives, there might be some hope of soothing their ferocity and
averting an outbreak of their insane rage; but nothing can be done
with the Jesuit--more subtle than the serpent, more fell than the
Hyrcanian tiger."
"Have the disciples of Loyola penetrated to this fierce tribe?"
inquired Sir Christopher.
"Art thou ignorant that the cunning father Le Jeune, the daring
Brebeuf, and I know not what instigators of mischief besides, are said
to be among them? Pity is it truly that so much learning and so great
zeal should be expended in so bad a cause."
"It was known before I left England that these men had made some
little progress among the natives in Southern America, where gold and
silver abound; but who would have looked for them in these colder and
comparatively inhospitable regions? May there not be some error in
this matter, and our fears of the dreaded Order have converted
interested and malignant traders into members of the so-styled Company
of Jesus?"
"It may be so, for our information is not so accurate as I wish; but
this we do know, that a strange activity hath of late manifested
itself in the movements of these foul conspirators, against
uncorrupted Christianity the world over; and only a short time since
was it that godly Mr. Eliot discovered, on the neck of a squaw, one of
their brass idols made into the image of the Crucified, which, in
righteous indignation, he took away from the woman. Deluded and
deluding, alas, if they have found their way into this land!"
"It is not necessary to suppose the presence of any member of the
Company of Jesus, in order to account for the image on the neck of the
Indian woman. The French traders are Catholics, and one of them might
have given it to her."
"True; yet doth my jealous mind connect these men with every
perversion and corruption of Gospel truth. They are at this moment as
well the plotting mind as the executing arm of the rotten Church of
Rome. The spirit of Loyola would seem lately to have left Hades, to
animate his followers upon earth. Be sure, Sir Christopher, that where
error and mischief are, there is the Jesuit."
"It is ever a consolation," said the Knight, devoutly, "and in
especial in these troublous times, that the Founder of the Church hath
promised to be with her to the end of the world, and that the gates of
hell shall not prevail against her."
"If they have stolen among the innocent natives to intercept that
knowledge of divine truth which it is our purpose to impart, we will,
by God's grace, defeat their designs and bring to naught their
inventions. In this Christian work it may be my desire to engage your
services, Sir Christopher."
"It needs not that I should make protestations of zeal, or offers of
my poor self; yet do my feelings prompt me to say that my badge 'the
honey-bee,' is not more diligent in collecting his precious store than
I will be in such a cause."
"Then expect to have thy zeal and courage put to the test. Should I
request thee to visit the Taranteens in their own country, what would
be thy reply?"
The Knight paused, as if the question was of importance sufficient to
require consideration, so long, indeed, that Winthrop thought it
proper to resume.
"I know," he said, "that it is a service not unattended with danger;
yet did danger never frighten a noble soul, but doth ever act as an
incentive. There is no one save thyself well acquainted with the
tongue of these savages, (Mr. Eliot's knowledge thereof, I observe, is
imperfect, and he is in other respects but poorly qualified for the
enterprise), and who would be able to make the impression upon them
and obtain the information which I desire."
"Disclose more perfectly your wishes, right worshipful sir," said Sir
Christopher.
"I call thee to a danger which, possessed I thy marvellous skill in
languages, I myself would meet. I will unbosom myself. The thought of
a conflict with the Taranteens distresses me. It can result only in
ruin to them and injury to the budding prospects of our colony. Our
interest is peace. We want trade with the natives. We want their
confidence. Without the latter there can be no trade, neither can we
counteract the plots of our enemies, nor find opportunity to introduce
the Gospel among them. The mysterious calamity which befel the embassy
hath sadly shaken my expectations; but I am unwilling to abandon the
field. What means are in my power I will apply to restore a good
understanding. Moreover, I would be more fully assured of the truth or
falsehood of the reports that there are Jesuits among the Taranteens.
Where is the man more competent to take upon himself this important
trust--one which hath for its object to prevent effusion of blood--to
detect the traitorous plots of a wily and deadly foe, and to advance
the cause of unadulterated religion, than thyself?"
The Knight bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, but said
nothing.
"I seem to see the finger of God displayed," continued Winthrop. "For
this very purpose wert thou sent among us; yet, noble sir,
notwithstanding the importance of the object to be attained and the
honor to accrue to him who shall secure them for us, let me not urge
thee unreasonably. Seest thou imminent danger in the enterprise,
undertake it not. I pray thee, without regarding aught that I have
said, to act according to thy better judgment."
"It was through no apprehension of peril that I was silent," said the
Knight. "Danger and I have been too long acquainted to distrust one
another. I did but turn over in my mind the proper means to accomplish
your designs. I place myself at your disposal, and am only rejoiced
that (lamenting the occasion) I can be employed in any manner to
advance a good work."
"Heartily I thank thee, Sir Christopher, for the cheerful tender of
thy service, though it was only what was to be expected from a man of
thy chivalric temper. I will take this thing into further
consideration, and will shortly acquaint thee with my conclusion."
"And, meanwhile, I will prepare myself to fulfil the wishes of your
worship," answered the Knight, preparing to take leave.
"Commend me," said Winthrop, "to the friendly thoughts of Lady
Geraldine, with sincerest hopes that the peace which surpasseth
understanding may nestle into her heart to chase away her melancholy,
and may her steps be guided unto the true fold, where only safety is
to be found."
"With many thanks," returned the Knight, "I seek my hermitage in the
woods."