On the Saturday the feast was closed by a state dinner whose composition taxed Priscilla as head cook to the limit of her resources, and with flushed cheek and knitted brow she moved about among her willing assitants with all the importance of a Bechamel, a Felix, themaître-d'hôtelof Cardinal Fesch with his two turbots, or luckless Vatel who fell upon his sword and died because he had no turbot at all; or even, rising in the grandeur of the comparison, we may liken her to Domitian, who, weary of persecuting Christians, one day called the Roman Senate together to decide with him upon the sauce with which another historic turbot should be dressed.
Some late arrivals among the Indians had that morning brought in several large baskets of the delicious oysters for which Wareham is still famous, and although it was an unfamiliar delicacy to her, Priscilla, remembering a tradition brought from Ostend to Leyden by some travelers, compounded these with biscuit-crumbs, spices, and wine, and was looking about for an iron pan wherein to bake them, when Elizabeth Tilley brought forward some great clam and scallop shells which John Howland had presented to her, just as now a young man might offer a unique Sèvres tea-set to the lady of his love.
"Wouldn't it do to fill these with thy oyster compote, and so set them in the ashes to roast?" inquired she. "Being many they can be laid at every man's place at table."
"Why, 't is a noble idea, child," exclaimed Priscilla eagerly. "'T will be a novelty, and will set off the board famously. Say you not so, John?"
"Ay," returned Alden, who was busily opening the oysters at her side. "And more by token there is a magnificence in the idea that thou hast not thought on; for as at a great man's table the silver dishes each bear the crest of his arms, so we being Pilgrims and thusprivileged to wear the scallop shell in our hats, do rather choose to display it upon our board."
"Ah, John, thou hast an excellent wit—insomethings," replied Priscilla with a half sigh which set the young fellow wondering for an hour.
By noon the long tables were spread, and still the sweet warm air of the "Indian Summer" made the out-of-door feast not only possible but charming, for the gauzy veil upon the distant forest, and the marine horizon, and the curves of Captain's Hill, seemed to shut in this little scene from all the world of turmoil and danger and fatigue, while the thick yellow sunshine filtered through with just warmth enough for comfort, and the sighing southerly breeze brought wafts of perfume from the forest, and bore away, as it wandered northward, the peals of laughter, the merry yet discreet songs, and the multitudinous hum of blithe voices, Saxon and savage, male and female, adult and childish, that filled the dreamy air.
The oysters in their scallop shells were a singular success, and so were the mighty venison pasties, and the savory stew compounded of all that flies the air, and all that flies the hunter in Plymouth woods, no longer flying now but swimming in a glorious broth cunningly seasoned by Priscilla's anxious hand, and thick bestead with dumplings of barley flour, light, toothsome, and satisfying. Beside these were roasts of various kinds, and thin cakes of bread or manchets, and bowls of salad set off with wreaths of autumn leaves laid around them, and great baskets of grapes, white and purple, and of the native plum, so delicious when fully ripe in its three colors of black, white, and red. With these were plentiful flagons of ale, for already the housewives had laiddown the first brewing of the native brand, and had moreover learned of the Indians to concoct a beverage akin to what is now called root beer, well flavored with sassafras, of which the Pilgrims had been glad to find good store since it brought a great price in the English market.
It was during the last half hour of this feast that Desire Minter, who with the other girls served the tables where the men sat at meat, placed a little silver cup at Captain Standish's right hand saying,—
"Priscilla sends you some shrub, kind sir, of her own composition, and prays you drink her health."
"Why, then, 't is kind of her who hath been most unkind of late," returned Myles, upon whose seasoned brain the constant potations of three days had wrought to lull suspicion and reserve, and taking the cup he tossed off its contents at a draught, and rising bowed toward Priscilla who was flitting in and out among the tables. She returned the salute with a little air of surprise, and Myles reseating himself turned to question Desire again, but she had departed carrying the cup with her.
"Nay, then, I'll be toyed with no longer," muttered the Captain angrily, and although he bore his part in the closing ceremonies with which the governor bade a cordial and even affectionate farewell to the king, the prince, their nobles, and their following, there was a glint in his eye and a set to his lips that would have told one who knew him well that the spirit of the man was roused and not lightly to be laid to rest again.
The last pniese had made his uncouth obeisance and departed, and busy hands were removing all signs of the late commotion in haste that the setting sun should find the village ready for its Sunday rest and peace, when Myles Standish suddenly presented himself before Priscilla Molines as she came up from the spring with a pile of wooden trenchers in her hands.
"Mistress Molines a word with you," began he with an unconscious imperiousness that at once aroused the girl's rebellious spirit.
"Nay, Captain, I am not of your train band, and your business must await my pleasure and convenience. Now, I am over busy."
"Nay, then, if I spoke amiss I crave your pardon, mistress, and had we more time I would beat my brains for some of the flowery phrases I used to hear among the court gallants who came to learn war in Flanders. But I also have business almost as weighty as thine and as little able to brook delay. So I pray you of your courtesy to set down your platters on this clean sod, and listen patiently to me for a matter of five minutes."
"I am listening, sir."
"Nay, put down the platters or let me put them down."
"There then, and glad am I"—
"Of what, mistress?"
"That I'm not often under thy orders, sir."
"Ah! But we'll waste no time in skirmishing, fair enemy. Tell me rather what didst mean by the loving-cup thou sendst me? May I take it sooth and truly as relenting on thy part?"
"I send you a loving-cup, sir!" exclaimed the girl, her eyes flashing, and her color rising.
"Yes. Call it by what name you will; I mean the cup Desire Minter brought me from thee, with a message that I should drink thy health."
"Loth were I to think, Captain Standish, that you would willfully insult a maid with none to defend her, and so I will charitably suppose that you have been forced to drink too many healths to guard well thine own. Good e'en, sir."
"Now by the God that made us both, wench, I'll have an end of this. Nay, not one step dost thou stir until you or I are laid in a lie."
"A lie, Captain Standish!"
"Mayhap my own lie. I say that Desire Minter brought me a silver cup of some sweet posset, such as you have made for our sick folk time and again, and bade me from you quaff it to your health."
"And that is God's truth, say you, sir?"
"Mistress Molines, my word has not often been doubted, and you force me to remind you that I come not of mechanical"—
"Nay, nay, stop there, an' it please you, sir! We'll unwind this coil before we snarl another. Fear not that my base mechanical blood shall ever sully your noble strain; but mean though I be, my habit is a tolerably truthful one, and I tell you once and for all thatI sent you no cup, I made you no posset, I desired no health drunk by you."
"Nay, then, what hath this girl Desire wrought? And truth to tell Priscilla, I fear me 't is poison, for a shrewd pain seizeth me ever and anon, and a strange heaviness is in my head."
"And there's a sultry color on your cheek—nay, then, we'll see the surgeon"—
"And thou 'lt forgive whatever I have said amiss, Priscilla, for mayhap I'll trouble thee no more. Like enough she hath revenged herself"—
"For your scorn of her love," interposed Priscilla vivaciously. "Like enough, like enough. Come to the house, Captain, and let us take counsel with the dear mother. She still knows best."
"Go thou, Priscilla. It hardly beseems a man and a soldier to seek redress for a wench's love scratch at the hands of an old woman—nay, nay, fire not up afresh! No one can honor Mistress Brewster more than I do, but tell me, is she a man or is she young? Sooth now, Priscilla!"
"And still in thy masterful mood thou 'lt have the last word, doughty Captain. But go you home, then, and bid John Alden make a fire and heat a good kettle of water, and I'll away to the mother who will deal with Desire in short measure."
"'T is good counsel and I'll follow it, for in sober sadness I feel strangely amiss." And the soldier, who now was as livid as he had been flushed, strode away up the hill, while Priscilla picking up the trenchers fled like a lapwing into the house where she found Desire seated sullenly in a corner, while the elder, his wife, and the governor were gathered together near the fire cozilydiscussing the events of the day. Standing before them and restraining her natural vivacity that it might not discredit the importance of her story, Priscilla in brief and pungent phrases told the story of the loving draught, and as Desire rose and stole toward the door laid a hand upon her arm that effectually detained her until the elder sternly said,—
"Remain you here, Desire Minter, until this report is sifted."
"Were it not well to send at once for our good physician, that he may know what hath been done before he sees the captain?" suggested Bradford mildly, and the elder assenting, Priscilla was dispatched for doctor Fuller, who arrived within the minute, and listened with profound attention, while Mistress Brewster, to whom alone the girl would reply, extracted from her a most startling story.
"The captain first of all asked me to wife, and if he had not been wiled away from me by artful"—
"Nay, nay, Desire, thou 'rt not to say such things as that," interposed the dame with gentle severity, and Bradford added in much the same tone,—
"'T was thine own idle fancy, girl, that set thee on such a notion. The captain hath averred to me as Christian man that he never made proffer to thee nor wished so to do since first he set eyes on thee."
"He did then," muttered Desire sullenly, and Mistress Brewster interposed.
"Leaving that aside, tell us, Desire, what didst thou give the captain to drink, and why didst say that Priscilla sent it?"
"Marry, because she hath bewitched him, and I wot well he would take it from her without gainsaying."
"But what was it thou gavest him?"
"'T was—there was a wench here with the savages, and Squanto told me she was a wise woman and knew how to work spells"—
"Well then, go on, Desire."
"And so I went with her pulling herbs in the fields and swamps, and with one word English and one of jabber, we knew each other's meaning, and I gave her the buckle of my belt which was broke and none here could mend it."
"A generous gift, truly," interposed the elder, but his wife beseeching silence with a gesture asked,—
"And what gave she thee, Desire?"
"Some herbs, mother."
"And what were the herbs to do?"
"She said steep them well, and give the broth to any man I fancied, and it would turn his fancy on me."
"A love philtre!Vade retrograde Sathanas!" exclaimed the elder half rising from his chair, but here the doctor eagerly interposed,—
"What like was the herb, girl? Hast any of it in store for a second dose?"
"Mayhap—a little," muttered Desire twisting and turning, but seeing no means of escape.
"Go and fetch it," commanded the elder. "And Priscilla do thou go too and see that the wretched creature doth not make way with it."
"And sith John Howland is after a sort betrothed to the poor bemused child, I think it well to summon him, that he may advise with us as to the sequela of this folly. I will call him to the Council." And Bradford followed the two girls from the room.
"If she hath murdered the captain, she shall die thedeath," exclaimed the elder striding about the room, and pausing before the great chair where his pale and fragile wife sat looking up at him with beseeching eyes.
"Nay, William, she is hardly older than our own dear girls, and it would ill become us who still carry our own lives in our hands to deprive a poor silly maid of hers."
"So the best road out of the maze is to cure the captain," remarked Doctor Fuller dryly. "After that we'll marry the girl to John Howland, and trust him to keep her quiet. Here they come."
And in at the open door came the governor and Howland, Desire and Priscilla, who carried in her hand a little box full of half-dried leaves, which she presented to the doctor, who solemnly pulling from his pocket a pair of clumsy iron-bowed spectacles put them astride his nose, and taking the herbs to the window carefully examined them, while all the rest stood anxiously around staring with all their might.
"Hm! Hah! Yes, well yes, I see, I see!" murmured the botanist, and then turning to Bradford he fixed him with a meditative gaze over the tops of his barnacles and said,—
"You know something of botany, Governor. Say you not that this is thePlatanthera Satyrion, the herb supposed to give vigor to the hearts of those wild men whom the mythologists celebrate?"
"Is it? I should have taken it for the iris whose flower I have noted in these swamps."
"'T is akin, ay, distant kin, but with the difference that maketh one harmless, and 't other deadly. I will take it to Sister Winslow's house and examine it with my books, but still I can aver at once that 't is Platanthera; and if it is also Satyrion I will promise that itshall prove only nauseous and distasteful to our good Captain, and by no means deadly. I will go to see him."
"And John Howland," said the Governor turning toward the young man who stood looking with aversion at the figure of Desire, who with her head in her apron wept loud and angrily, "it seemeth to me that since this maid is betrothed to you, and is manifestly unfit to guide herself, that it is best for you to marry her here, and now, and after that train her into more discretion than she naturally showeth."
"May it please you, Master Bradford, and you, Elder," replied Howland coldly, "it seemeth to me that a woman who shows so little modesty in the pursuit of one man is scarce fit wife for another. I did indeed promise my late dear mistress whose ward this girl was, that I would care for her, and if need be take her to wife; but sure am I that if that godly and discreet matron could know of all this, she would hold me free of my bonds, the rather that I have never looked upon her with that tenderness that God putteth in our hearts toward those"—
"Nay, then, if it comes to that," interposed Desire, snatching away her apron and showing a swollen and tear-stained face, "I hate and despise thee, John Howland, and always have and always will; and if I took thee for my bachelor at all it was only in hope that 't would give a jealous twinge to the heart of a better man, and if at the last I failed of him thou wouldst be better than none; but I've changed my mind, and now I'll none of thee, not if ne'er another man"—
"Peace, shameless wench!" thundered the elder, striking the table with his hand. "Profane not theears of a decent matron with such talk. John Howland, it is my rede that thou art free of thy pledge to marry this woman. What say you, Governor?"
"I agree with you, Elder Brewster, that since both man and maid desire to render back their troth that they should be permitted so to do; and I further suggest that by the first occasion presenting, Desire Minter be sent back to her friends in England, who will, as Mistress Carver told me, be content to receive her."
"Amen!" ejaculated John Howland with such unction that Bradford gravely smiled as he followed him from the room, and murmured under his breath,—"He will wed Elizabeth Tilley, an' I'm not mistaken."
"'T is a year agone to-day since we in the Mayflower sighted land in this place," said Bradford to Standish, as the two stood beside the gun just fired for sunset when all obligatory labor ended in the village.
"Ay, is it so? Well, it hath been a year of note in more ways than one, and the next is like to be as adventurous. Ha! Look you there, Bradford! Dost see that Indian runner breasting the hill. Some great news, surely,—come, let us go to meet him."
"Squanto is before us. See him leap the brook"—
But Standish was already half way down the hill, and presently in the open space already spoken of as the Town Square he and two or three of the other leaders met the runner, who escorted by Squanto came panting up the hill from the brook, and after the usual salutations informed the governor that he was sent from Aspinet, sachem of the Nausets, to inform the white men that a vessel had been watched feeling her way through the shoals around Cape Cod, and was now laying her course apparently for Plymouth. Not knowing whether this might be good or bad news, the sachem had felt it a friendly act to convey it to his new allies with the greatest possible dispatch.
"And he did well, and both he and thou shall see that we are not ungrateful," replied Bradford courteously. "Tisquantum, take this man to the Common house, and see that he is suitably refreshed. And now, brethren, what meaneth this? Is it indeed good news or bad?"
"Bad," replied Standish promptly. "For well do we know that no relief was to be sent us until our friends the traders had seen the first fruits of their Adventure, and as we perforce sent home the Mayflower empty, I for one expect to hear no more from Cheapside unless it be a rating."
"There hath not been time for the Mayflower to go and return, were our friends never so willing to aid us," suggested the elder pacifically.
"Then what think you, men?" persisted Bradford. "Allerton, Winslow, Warren, what say ye all?"
"We know that the French are at war with England," suggested Winslow. "And this may be a privateer coming to harry the settlement."
"In that case it were well to hide whatever we have of value and retreat to the woods with the women and children," said Allerton turning pale.
"And leave our housen, and the Fort and its armament, and our boats!" exclaimed Standish contemptuously. "Nay, Governor, my counsel is that we at once arm ourselves, train what guns we can upon the offing, and if these indeed be buccaneers, French, Spanish, or Turks, receive them with a volley that shall leave little work for a second one. The women and children may retreat to the woods, and he who has any pots, or cups, or pans of value may bury them an' he chooses. My best treasures are Gideon and my snaphance, and I cannot spare them so long as I live to wield them."
"That's the chat that suits me, neighbor," declaredHopkins in his usual rough, hearty fashion, while Allerton, an unwonted tinge of color upon his sallow cheek, hastened to avow himself as ready for fighting as any man since fighting was decided to be the best policy.
And now Standish assumed control of the occasion and showed himself in his most becoming attitude. His quick eyes and ready hands were everywhere, and the somewhat sharp and terse military orders that sometimes had seemed a thought arbitrary now carried assurance in their tone, and strengthened the hearts of some and supported the determination of others, who left to themselves would have scattered like sheep without a leader.
"Let each man arm and harness himself and report for inspection in the Town Square," was the first order, and while it was obeyed the Captain climbed the hill carrying the "perspective glass" made by Galileo himself during his exile in Holland, and brought to the new world by Governor Carver, whose widow bequeathed it to the colony as one of its chief treasures.
He was followed by William Trevor, one of the seamen hired by the colony for a year, a fellow of quick eyesight and undaunted courage. The Captain silently and carefully adjusted his lenses, and then handed the glass to Trevor.
"Now you, Bill, clap your eye to that and get it on yon headland, Farther Manomet, d' ye see?"
"Ay, Captain, I have it, and can count the squirrels on the tree tops."
"Canst tell a ship's topmast from a squirrel if one should heave in sight?"
"Mayhap I could, master."
"Well, then, watch for it, and so soon as any craft ofany color, be it one of your squirrels on a chip, an Indian in a canoe, or a French man-of-war, send this boy Cooke tumbling down the hill to bring the news. Now, man, show thy discretion and thy wit."
"Ay, ay, Captain, you may trust Bill Trevor for a keen lookout. When I sailed aboard a whaler"—
But already the Captain was out of hearing, and presently was inspecting his little army, mustered in the Town Square, each man armed and armored.
Drawn up in two ranks the twenty men presented a striking array, for in the forefront stood the governor, the elder, the surgeon, Winslow, Allerton, Warren, Hopkins, Howland, Alden, and Peter Browne, ancestor of John Brown of Ossawatomie; while the file closers, if not men of equal note in affairs, were each one a sturdy and determined Englishman, ready to fight till the death and never guess that he could be conquered.
The inspection over, the train band was dismissed with orders to stand ready to reassemble at a moment's warning, and meantime to make such dispositions of private property as seemed good to each man.
Hardly was this order obeyed when from the Fort came Trevor's sonorous hail,—
"Sail ho!" and presently young Cooke came pelting down the hill reporting with a military salute to the captain.
"Trevor saith, sir, that a ship of not over sixty ton is drawing around Manomet, and that she flieth no colors as yet."
"Ha! Let us see then, let us see!" cried the captain, and two minutes later was at the top of the hill, glass in hand.
"Hm! Square rigged, slender built—what say you, Trevor, is she a Frenchman?"
"More like a Dutchman to my mind, sir."
"Ah, then were we all right, and with a goodly new store of schnapps to comfort our souls, but my mind misdoubts me. Now let us see if we can train this saker to command the offing. Boy, run down the hill and fetch Billington and Master Hopkins. 'T will do no harm, and may—ay, this minion will sweep the Rock like a new broom. Here, Billington, come on man and lend me thy bull's neck and shoulders. I would shift the carriage of this saker. Ho, Hopkins, give us a little help here. There yeo-ho, men! Again, now then—yeo-ho! Now we have it, now! There, settle her in place, that's it, there! Now then, Trevor, how about the Frenchman?"
"She is laying her course for this harbor, Captain. You may see her without the glass well enow, for she's going about to fetch Beach Point."
"Is tide high enow to carry her over Brown's Islands, as Champlain calleth the outer flats?" asked Hopkins, who by fits liked to appear erudite.
"Ay, 't is full water at noon to-day," replied Trevor, his eye glued to the glass.
"Now then, now then, here she is making straight into the harbor," exclaimed Standish excitedly, and plunging down the hill followed by the rest, he made signal to Bart Allerton standing expectant at his own door to sound the "assembly" upon the trumpet which he had learned to manage with great precision.
Ten minutes later the whole array of fighting men stood steady in their ranks, with the larger boys hanging in the rear, each carrying a spare gun, or some other weapon, and all eyes fixed upon the point where the stranger would appear as she beat her way into the harbor.
Suddenly the captain waved his hand above his head, glancing up at the Fort where, under the folds of the British standard, stood Trevor, linstock in hand. Another moment, and out from the hoarse throat of the saker roared a defiant peal echoing grandly from hill to hill, startling the savages who covertly watched the arrival of new foes or new friends as the case might be, and rolling ominously across the waters of the harbor to demand the name of the intruder.
"They be busy with their ancient-staff," reported Trevor presently, as he resumed the spy-glass. "There goes the bunting—ha—ay—run boy, and tell the captain 't is the red cross of Merrie England; 't is the home colors, boy!"
But already the eager eyes in the Town Square had recognized the flag, and Standish lapsing from the martinet into the exile waved Gideon above his head shouting,—
"'T is our own flag, men; 't is the red cross of Old England! Three cheers boys, three cheers for the dear old flag! Now then!"
And the glad shout arose, and again and again, not only from the bearded throats of men, but in the shrill treble of boys, and the dainty voices of girls, who just out of sight watched as women do, when life and honor hang in the balance.
"Oh Mary, Mary maid, why art thou crying! Silly wench"—
"Nay, but thou 'rt crying thyself, Priscilla! Nay, now thou 'rt laughing!"
"To think how John Alden turned white as any maid when the good news came!" sobbed Priscilla running in to fling her arms around Dame Brewster, whosat with folded hands and rapt face praying to the God of battles.
"Oh mother, mother, they all are safe, and 't is an English ship. Belike, Fear and Patience and their brother are aboard."
"Nay, dear maid, nay, be not so carried away. If indeed God sendeth my children"—
But the mere thought of such joy was too much for the self-control the poor mother so struggled for, and when the elder hastened into the house he found his wife weeping for joy upon Priscilla's heaving breast.
"Nay then, wife, nay then, doest thou well?—and yet mine own eyes might but too easily rain with gratitude. Dame, wife I say, nay then—let us pray that in all things His will be done."
And in less than an hour Mary Brewster was sobbing afresh in the stalwart embrace of her eldest son Jonathan, a young fellow of five-and-thirty, who full of health and courage was come to be the staff of her old age, and to bring news of the fair sisters who would come anon.
For this was the Fortune, a little ship of fifty-five tons, dispatched by the Adventurers in London to carry over some of the colonists disappointed of a passage in the Mayflower, but principally to convey Robert Cushman, who came pledged to obtain the consent of the Pilgrims to a contract more favorable to their English friends than that they were disposed to undertake. With him came his son Thomas, a boy of fourteen, whom his father upon his hasty return in the Fortune left behind under charge of the governor, to whom he subsequently wrote, "I pray you care for my son as for your own;" and so well did Bradford train the boy soon orphaned andleft entirely to his charge, that Thomas Cushman became successor of William Brewster as Ruling Elder of the Pilgrim Church, and now lies on Burying Hill beneath a goodly monument erected by his numerous descendants.
But little on that bleak November day recked the boy of future honors or proud posterities, for he and his friend Thomas Prence, future governor of the colony, but then a merry youth of nineteen, were hand and glove with a gay company of lads and young men who had accepted the adventure of Pilgrimage as they would have sailed with Drake, or Hawkins, or Captain Cooke,—any leader who promised novelty, excitement, and the chance of hard knocks and treasure.
So little responsible for their own welfare were many of these younkers that, although fairly fitted out for the voyage, they had while weather-bound in the British Channel gone ashore at Old Plymouth and "brushed away" even their cloaks and extra doublets, in some cases their very bedding and such cooking utensils as passengers were then expected to provide themselves with. So far from bringing fresh supplies of food to the colony, these runagates had devoured perforce the provisions that should have victualed the Fortune on her return voyage, and the colonists were forced for humanity's sake, to supply her out of their own scanty stock.
Among these young fellows was a slight, dark-eyed lad of about nineteen, who so soon as he had landed asked for the Demoiselle Molines.
"Priscilla Molines? Dost thou know her then?" inquired Alden who heard the question, although addressed to Billington, who only grinned at the lad's French accent and made no reply.
"Certainly, yes. My sister is of her closest friends."
"Ay? Is thy name De la Noye?"
"Truly!" exclaimed the boy, his face lighting vivaciously. "I am Philip de la Noye."
"Hm, and your brother Jacques—is he in the company, or coming in the next ship?" asked Alden grimly; but at that moment Priscilla coming swiftly forward, held out both hands to the new-comer exclaiming joyously in French,—
"Philip, dear lad! Glad am I to seethee."
"She will have news now from her lover," muttered Alden bitterly, but just then the captain hailed,—
"Here Jack, put thy long legs and brawny thews to service in bringing some of these budgets up the hill. Here's a poor soul with three little children tugging at her skirts and she a widow, and fit to be put to bed herself."
"I'll help her up the hill, Captain," interposed Peter Browne hastily, and as he carefully aided the Widow Ford to climb the steep ascent some sprite might have whispered in his ear that this was his own future wife. That night was born Martha Ford, who should from similarity of history have married Peregrine White, but who instead wedded William Nelson.
Not until the last bale or packet unloaded from the Fortune had been disposed of in the Common storehouse, or in some one of the houses all hospitably thrown open to the new-comers, did John Alden cease his labors or exchange more than a brief word with those about him, until at last Bradford cheerily declared labor over for the day and added,—
"Come friends to my house, and hear what Master Cushman will have to tell us of affairs in the old home.Come Alden, and reward thy labors with a good flagon of beer."
Muttering some reply, the young man followed the rest up Leyden Street, but as they reached the governor's house, a somewhat larger and more important cabin than the rest, he passed quickly on and up the hill. Pausing but a moment at the Fort, he struck down the steep southerly side to the brook, and having performed his simple toilet strode moodily on toward the forest, but had only gone a few rods when a familiar voice called his name, and turning he saw Priscilla with Mary Chilton and the young Frenchman, to whom they seemed to be showing the brook and its springs of "delicate water."
Very reluctantly Alden turned and moved toward them.
"Did you speak, Mistress Mary?" inquired he as the party approached.
"I—I," stammered Mary blushing vividly.
"It was I who bade her do so," interposed Priscilla with an impatient glance at the English girl whose honesty had spoiled her little finesse. "We thought you looked but dull, and I would fain bring my new-arrived friend Philip De la Noye to your acquaintance."
The two men exchanged salutations, Philip with the ready grace of a Latin, John with that distinguishing a Saxon, especially if displeased.
"We are strolling about a bit before making ready for supper," added Priscilla. "Philip is curious as to our manner of life in these wilds."
"'T is but ill suited to slender folk," replied Alden glancing superciliously at the slight stripling, who, for his part, surveyed with a sort of amused wonder the thews and stature of the young giant striding sullenly at Priscilla's other hand.
"Nay, we do not pack diamonds in bales like hay," retorted Priscilla stingingly, and then turning to Philip she inquired eagerly,—
"And Jacques and Guillaume are well, quite, quite well, are they?"
"Yes, and Marie and Jeanne," replied Philip placidly.
"And have you news from friends at home, Mary?" asked John decidedly moving to her side.
"Nay, there are none left there of my nearest kin," replied the girl sadly. "We came all of us together, and only I am left."
"Nay, Mary, so fair and so good a maid as thou, will never stay long without friends. Thou wouldst never flout an honest fellow's love and draw him on, and turn him back, and use him worse than a baby doth its puppet. The man who loves thee will never rue it."
So meaning were his glances and his tone, that for a moment the simple maid stood aghast. Could it be that Alden's constancy had given out, and he was now ready to woo her instead of her friend; but in another moment the truth dawned upon her, and with more diplomacy than she often showed Mary smiled and shook her head.
"I know not, for love and sweethearts have not come my way yet. 'T is Priscilla whom all men seek, and she in merry mood listeth to all and still keepeth her own mind secret. She is well content to-night, for this lad hath brought news of his brother's marriage."
"What, the fellow they call Jacques?" demanded John glancing eagerly toward the other couple now walking some paces in advance.
"Ay, and Guillaume is betrothed, and Jeanne. They are dear friends of our Priscilla."
"But—but—nay, then, maid Mary, have compassion on a poor stupid oaf who is no match for her or you or any woman in subtlety and fence, and yet loveth yon maid as it is not well for man to love aught but his Maker. Tell me, doth she care aught for me?"
"Nay, John, that is a question none but she should answer, but yet I may tell thee thus much. The news she hath to-day may embolden thee to ask again."
"Good wench, true friend!" exclaimed Alden, his whole face lighting with a new hope. "And now as we turn toward home, if thou wouldst but engage yon boy's attention, and let me essay while hope is strong and courage fresh, I will put my fate once more to the touch and know if joy and I are henceforth partners, or the coldest of strangers."
"Ah, lad, thou lovest her overmuch," replied Mary, letting her placid blue eyes rest upon him half curiously, half enviously. "No man will ever care for me like that, for I have not the skill to hide my mind as Priscilla hath. But I'll help thee, John, for I do believe thou 'lt make the dear maid happy if she will but stay in one mind long enough to wed thee."
And in a few moments when the setting sun warned Priscilla that it was time to turn homeward, and the two parties came together, Mary showed Philip De la Noye the strawberry plants of which he had asked, and so detained him for a moment, while John walking on with Priscilla impatiently began,—
"Wilt answer me one little question in good faith, mistress?"
"In good faith if at all, John."
"Then, what bond is there betwixt thee and this lad's brother Jacques?"
"None save good will and old acquaintance."
"But there was."
"Was there?"
"Nay now, Priscilla, I speak to thee in sober sadness, and I ask such reply as honest maid should give to honest man who woos her for his wife. If we fall to quips and cranks and wordy play, thou 'rt so far out of my reach that I know not if I ever come near thee, for I'm but a plain simple fellow, Priscilla, and I love thee more than I love aught else but God and the truth. Give me now a plain answer and have pity of my misery. Has aught of this lad's news changed thy will or thy intent toward me?"
And Priscilla moving slowly along beside her wooer shot a rapid sidelong glance at his white face, and for the first time in their acquaintance felt a thrill of respect akin to fear, sweep in his direction across her gay self-assertive nature.
"Yes, John, I will answer thee truly and soberly," replied she in a voice he had never heard from her before. "Philip De la Noye hath brought news that sets me free from a teasing obligation of which no man knows. Marie and Jeanne, his sisters, are my dear friends and gossips, and their brother Jacques would fain have been my bachelor in Leyden, but I was too young my father said to listen to such talk, and he cared not greatly for Jacques, who was to tell truth somewhat gay and debonair of temper, and no church member, no, not he. So when we parted from Leyden to come hither, and I went to bid good-by to my friends, James, as you call him in English, would fain have me promise to wed no man but him, and he would come hither so soon as he was his own master."
"And didst promise, Priscilla?"
"Well, nay and yea, John. I said I knew not what might meet me here, and—but at long and at last I promised to wait until the first ship had followed us, and if Jacques came in her I would—would listen to him again."
"And that was all thy promise, maiden?"
"Ay, and enough, for before we landed on yonder Rock, and 't was Mary Chilton and not thee, John, who first skipt ashore"—
"Oh, mind not that just now, Priscilla."
"Well, before I myself came ashore I knew that I cared not for Jacques De la Noye. Beside the deathbed of my mother, and again by that of my brother, I knew that life was darker and deeper than he could fathom."
"Ay, maid, and nobly didst thou bear that sorry load of woe and care."
Priscilla's color rose, and her dark eyes flashed a message of thanks, but without other reply she went steadily on,—
"And so soon as Philip saw me, he delivered himself of the news that Jacques, some three months since, was wed at Saint Peter's Church to Gertrude Bartholmei, a merry Flemish maid, who ever looked kindly on him, and now is welcome to him."
"Say you that honestly, Priscilla?"
"As honestly as thyself could speak, lad."
"And thou 'rt heart-whole?"
"Nay, I said not exactly that."
"What! Dost really care for the captain?"
"As I care for the governor and the doctor; no more, no less."
"Priscilla, wilt be my wife?"
"Nay then, John, why didst not ask that at first rather than at last? Thou 'rt too fond of quip and quirk and wordy warfare, John, too much given to fence and intrigue."
"I, Priscilla! Nay then, I'll not be turned aside again, try as thou wilt. Priscilla, wilt be my wife?"
"Nay then, I never could bear a cuckoo song all on two notes, and if thou 'rt bound to say that phrase over and over till 't is answered"—
"'T is just what I am bound to do. Priscilla, wilt be my wife?"
"Yes, John, I will, and now I hope thou 'rt content."
"Wait till I see thee alone this evening, and I'll tell thee how content. Oh, maiden"—
"I will wait in what patience I may until that threatened evening hour," interrupted Priscilla as restively as the young colt who, after long coquetting, at last feels the bridle slipped over his head. "Mary, an' thou hasten not there'll be little done toward supper at supper time. Desire is naught and less than naught now that she's going home, and Bessy Tilley thinketh only of John Howland, and the dear mother hath her son, so who is left but thee and me to do a hand's turn."
"Here am I, Priscilla, and I'll help thee in any way thou 'lt say," suggested John Alden a little presuming upon his recent acceptance, and for his pains receiving a snub that made him wince again, for Priscilla coldly replied,—
"They say they came nigh bringing a Jack in the Fortune, but had no room for him; so thou mayst take his place, and fetch me a bucket of water from the spring. There's no mighty difference betwixt Jack and John."
And now began a new epoch in the life of the colony. The passengers of the Fortune, thirty-five in number, although nominally of the same belief and manners as the Mayflower Pilgrims, were in effect a new element which, in spite of the generous efforts of the new-comers, did not readily assimilate with the sober and restrained tone natural to men who had suffered and struggled and conquered at such terrible loss to themselves, as had the first comers.
A score of gay young fellows upon whom life sat so lightly that they cared not how they periled it, was no doubt a valuable acquisition to the fighting force of the colony, and almost upon the day of their arrival the Captain enrolled, divided, and began to train them, forming four companies of twelve men each, for some of the larger boys of the Mayflower were now enlisted, and this force of fifty men was at least once in every week led over to the Training Green across the brook, and there inspected, manœuvred, marched and counter-marched, disciplined in prompt obedience and rapid movement; until the birds of the air who watched from the neighboring forest should have carried a warning to their co-aborigines, the Narragansetts, the Neponsets, the Namaskets, and the Manomets, not yet convinced, spite of the late warning, that the white man was their Fate against which it was but bitter defeat to struggle.The training over, each company in turn escorted the captain to his own quarters, and fired a salute of honor as he dismissed them.
"'T is not for mine own glory, Will, as thou who knowest me will believe," said Standish, while the governor and he smoking a placid pipe on the evening of the first training, discussed the events of the day. "But in matters military even more than civil, it needs that one man should be at the head, and command the respectful observance as well as the obedience of those under his command. It is not Myles Standish whom the soldiers of Plymouth salute as he enters this poor hut, but the Captain of the Colony's forces."
"Ay, ay, Myles, I know thy humility," replied Bradford with his smile of gentle subtlety. The captain shot an inquiring glance out of his red-brown eyes, and in turn laughed a little uncomfortably.
"Nay now, thou 'rt laughing at me, Will. I claim no great meed of humility to be sure, and yet thou knowest lad, that if I could serve this emprise better by carrying a musket in the ranks"—
"Nay now, old friend, may not I smile at some jest between myself and my pipe, but thou must tack more meaning to it than Brewster says hung on Lord Burleigh's nod? And yet in sober sadness, Myles, 't is marvel to me how thou, born to a great name and to such observance as awaits the children of wealthy houses, and then, when hardly more than a boy, placed in authority such as appertaineth to an English army officer in time of war, how thou hast failed to become more arrogant and peremptory than thou art. And as for a musket in the ranks, what were that to such offices as not yet a year agone I saw thee fill around the beds ofthe sick and dying in our first great plague? When had we a tenderer nurse, a more patient watcher? What office was too loathly for thee, what tendence too tiring?"—
"Will, an' thou holdst not thy tongue I'll leave thee to thyself."
"Thou 'lt never be so rude in thine own house, Myles. Such manners would ill befit a Standish of Standish."
"Come now, Governor, do you disapprove of the salute, or of any other of my military ordonnances?"
"I disapprove of naught, old comrade, but of a certain want of patience beneath a friend's jest which I have sometimes marked, and haply it is I who am at fault to try thee so; but Myles, there's enow to make the governor of this colony sorry and sober, and thou shouldst not grudge him a moment of merriment even at thine own cost."
"Nor do I, as well thou knowest, Will. 'T is only that I am as ever a hot-headed fool and ill deserve a friend like thee. And now what thinkst thou of Master Cushman's errand, and the chidings of those London traders that we sent them not a cargo by the Mayflower? We who had much ado to dig the graves of half our company and to find food for the rest, to be rated like laggard servants because we laded not that old hulk with merchandise for their benefit."
"Ay, Master Weston's letter was somewhat hard to bear, albeit we should excuse much to his ignorance of our surroundings," said Bradford placably, although the color rose to his cheek at thought of the injustice he and his friends had suffered. "I have writ a reply," continued he, laying down his pipe and drawing a roll of paper from the pocket of his leathern jerkin, "andam fain to have your mind upon it, for I would not be over bitter, and yet was shrewdly wounded that John Carver lying in his honored grave should be so rudely attacked. Shall I read it?"
"Ay, an' thou wilt, though I'm more than half in mind to take passage by the Fortune, and give Master Weston and the rest a reply after mine own fashion."
"What, and leave the train band to its own destruction! But here you have my poor script:—