Oriana shuddered at what she saw to be her father's meaning. Once she would have felt as he did and have believed that their god could be propitiated by blood and agony. But now she knew that all such cruel sacrifices were worse than vain; and deeply she regretted her own inability to bring her countrymen, and especially her own beloved father, to a knowledge of the Gospel of mercy and peace; and thus save them from imbruing their hands in the blood of their fellow men, and thinking that they did good service to the Great Spirit.
She hurried back to her companions, and, weeping, told them of her partial success. It was all, and more than all, that Jyanough expected; and he immediately went to meet Tisquantum at the lodge of the Cree Sachem, Chingook, where he found the war party and their prisoners assembled. After a few words to Jyanough, Tisquantum commenced a long speech to his brother Sachem, in which he dilated on the friendship that subsisted between them, and the joy that he had felt in exercising his skill for the benefit of the brave and hospitable Crees. He then spoke of Terah's perilous condition, and his fears that even his powers had been baffled by the spirit of evil; and that the Pince would yet be taken from them, unless some offering could be found more precious than all that were now piled before his dwelling, and only waited for the auspicious moment to be wrapped inflame, us a sacrifice to the offended deity who had brought the pestilence. 'And have we not such an offering here?' he added, pointing to the captive warrior, who stood, with head erect, awaiting the sentence that he knew would be pronounced. 'Have we not here a victim, sent by Mahneto himself, at the very moment when Terah's life seems hanging on a breath? Lead him, then, to the sacred pile; and as his soul goes forth, the soul of Terah shall revive.
This speech was received with acclamations by the Crees; and already the warriors were hurrying away their captive, while his wife followed, as if mechanically, to share her husband's fate. Bat here Tisquantum interposed, and, in his daughter's name, requested the life of the woman and her child. His request was readily granted by Chingook; for of what value was a squaw in the eyes of these Indian braves?
The daughter of our friend and benefactor shall be denied nothing that she asks,' replied the Cree Chief. 'Take the woman to Oriana's lodge, and let her be her slave.'
Jyanough approached to lead away the unhappy woman but she turned on him a look of despairing misery, and, laying her band on her husband's arm, said quickly, 'I will see my Lincoya die, and then I will follow you where you will, for Mailah has no home.'
Jyanough did not oppose her, for his heart was touched by her sorrow and her fortitude; and the captive warrior turned his head, and bent on her sad countenance one look of tenderness and approbation, that told how deeply he was sensible of her devotion.
He did not speak—perchance he could not trust his voice in that trying moment—but he followed his guards, and his eye was again steadfast, and his step was firm.
Henrich and Oriana waited anxiously for the return of Jyanough: but he came not; and they almost feared that Tisquantum's request had been too coldly urged to prove successful. It was a calm autumnal day; and as the sun rose high in the heavens, his beams were shrouded by heavy thunder clouds, while a low and distant murmur foretold an approaching storm, and added to the gloom that weighed heavily on Oriana's spirit. All the sin and degradation of the faith of her countrymen seemed to strike upon her mind with a force hitherto unknown, and to bow her down in shame and sadness. Even to Henrich—to her loved Christian friend and teacher—she could not now utter her feelings; and when, to divert her thoughts, and remove her from the village where he knew so cruel a scene would soon be enacted, he led her towards the forest, she followed him silently. They seated themselves beneath an overshadowing tree; and, for some time, no sound broke the oppressive silence save the soft rustling of the leaves, that seemed to be moved by the spirits of the air-for no wind was stirring.
Presently a shriek—one single cry of agony—arose from the village: and all was still again.
'It was a woman's voice!' exclaimed Oriana, in a tone of deep suffering. 'O, Henrich! they murder the helpless and the innocent; and my father consents to the deed!'
Henrich did not reply; he had no comfort to offer. But they both gazed towards the village, as if hoping to discover, through the impervious wood that surrounded it, some indications of what was going on in those 'habitations of cruelty.
Soon a dense cloud of smoke rose high in the still at; and flames shot up above the intervening trees. And then burst forth a mingled din of wild unearthly sounds, that told of sated vengeance, and malignant joy, and demoniac worship. Fiercely the war cry of the Crees rang in the air, while above it rose the shrill sound of clashing spears and tomahawks; and Oriana knew that the savages were dancing round a death- fire, and calling on Mahneto to accept their bloody offering.
But now the threatening storm broke suddenly on that dark place of the earth; and it seemed to Oriana's troubled spirit that the wrath of heaven was poured upon her benighted race. Peal after peal resounded in quick succession, and reverberated from the distant kills; while flashes of forked lightning followed one another rapidly, and dispelled, for a moment, the unnatural darkness. The young Indian clung trembling and terrified to her companion, and hid her face on his shoulder, to shut out the fearful scene, while Henrich spoke to her words of comfort and encouragement, and at length succeeded in calming her agitation. The rain poured down in torrents but so dense was the foliage that hung over Oriana and her companion that it could not penetrate their place of refuge; and they remained awaiting its cessation, and watching the curling smoke, that seemed to die away as the falling torrent extinguished the fire. But as it disappeared, another cloud arose near the same spot; and wider and fiercer flames sprang up, that defied the rain, and continued to burn with more and more strength. Whence could they arise? Surely the wigwams were on fire!
Henrich communicated this fear to Oriana, and they arose and hurried together towards the village, where an appalling scene met their eyes. In front of Terah's dwelling were the smoldering remains of the sacrificial fire, on which—still upheld by the stake to which he had been bound—the burnt and, blackened form of a man was visible; while close by the ashes lay a woman, so motionless that she seemed as totally deprived of life as the wretched victim himself, and a child was reclining on her shoulder, whose faint wailing cry showed that it yet lived and suffered.
None heeded the melancholy group; for the warriors, whose wild songs and frantic dances had been interrupted by the sudden violence of the storm, were all now engaged in fruitless efforts to extinguish the flames that were rapidly consuming the lodge of Terah. The lightning had struck it, and ignited its roof of reeds; and so rapidly had the whole dwelling become a prey to the dreadful element, that even the removal of the dying sage had been despaired of. But Jyanough, who had been a silent spectator of all the previous scene of cruelty, was not to be daunted by the smoke and flame that burst through the entrance, and drove from the chamber of death all the attendants of the sufferer. Boldly he rushed into Terah's dwelling; and, just as Henrich and Oriana entered the open space in front of it, they beheld him issuing forth, blackened with smoke and scorched with fire, and bending beneath the weight of his uncle's corpse.
Yes; Terah was already a corpse! All the charms and incantations of the Powows bad failed to banish the disease that was sent to summon him away. All the treasure that had been destroyed, and the precious life- blood that had been spilled to propitiate false deities, could not for one moment arrest the fiat of the true 'Master of life,' or detain the spirit which was recalled by Him who gave it' That spirit had passed away amidst the noise of the tempest; and when Henrich sprang forward, and assisted his friend to lay the body gently on the earth, they saw that the spark of life had fled!
All further attempts at extinguishing the fire were now abandoned; and the Crees gathered round their departed friend to condole with Jyanough, who was his nearest relative, and to commence that dismal howling by which they express their grief on such occasions. All the property of the dead man was already consumed; but the best mats and skins that Jyanoughs wigwam contained were brought to wrap the corpse in; and when the site of his former dwelling could be cleared of ashes and rubbish, a grave was speedily dug in the center of it, and the, body laid by the simple sepulchre, around which the friends of the venerated Pince seated themselves, and howled, and wept, and detailed the virtues and the wisdom of the dead.
Jyanough was expected to act the part of chief mourner in these ceremonies; and the real affection he had entertained for his uncle induced him to comply, and to remain all that day, and all the following night, at the grate. But he refused to cover his face with soot—as is customary on such occasions of domestic sorrow—or to join the Powows in their frantic cries and exorcisms, to drive off the Weettakos from sucking the dead man's blood. The presence of Henrich seemed to annoy and irritate these priests of Satan; and he was glad to retire from a scene so repugnant to his better feelings, and to return to Oriana, by whose care and direction the unhappy Mailah and her infant had been promptly removed from the place of death and desolation, and conveyed to her own apartment in Tisquantums lodge.
Her kind efforts had restored the poor young widow to consciousness; and she now sat on the floor, with her child on her knee, listening with a calmness that almost seemed apathy, to the words of comfort that were uttered by the gentle Squaw-Sachem.
Mailah was very young. Scarcely sixteen summers had passed over her head; and yet—such is Indian life—she had already been a wife and a mother; and now, alas! she was a widow. Her grief had been passionate at the last, and had burst forth in that one wild cry that had startled Orianas ear in the forest. But that was over now, and she seemed resigned to her hard fate, and willing to endure it. Perhaps this was for her infant's sake; and, perhaps, her sensibilities were blunted by the life she had led, in common with the rest of her race and sex—a life in which the best feelings and sympathies of our nature are almost unknown. It was not until Oriana led her to speak of her past life, and the home of her youth—now desolate and in ruins—that tears of natural grief flowed from her eyes. Then she seemed roused to a full sense of all she had lost, end broke out into mournful lamentations for her murdered Lincoya, whose noble qualities and high lineage she eloquently extolled; while she sadly contrasted her present lonely and desolate position with her happiness as the squaw of so distinguished a warrior, and so successful a hunter.
Oriana said all she could to console her; and assured her of her protection and friendship, and of a home in her lodge when they returned to their own country, where she should live as her sister, and bring up her little Lincoya to emulate his father's courage and virtues: and, ere long, the simple young savage again grew calm, said lifted up her soft black eyes, and smiled gratefully at her new friend and benefactor. She said she bad no wish to return to her own tribe, for all her family and friends had been destroyed in the recent massacre; and the village where she had spent such happy days was reduced to ashes. She, therefore, was well content to remain with the youthful Squaw-Sachem, to whose intercession she knew she owed her own life and that of her child, and in whose service she professed her willingness to live and die.
Her manner and appearance greatly interested Henrich, for they were marked by much greater refinement than he had seen in any of the Indian females, except Oriana. This was to be accounted for by her noble birth; for in those days the Indian chieftains prided themselves on the purity and nobility of their lineage; and no member of a Sachem's family was allowed to marry one of an inferior race. A certain air of dignity generally distinguished the privileged class, even among the females; although their lives were not exempt from much of hardship and servitude, and they were regarded as altogether the inferiors of their lords and masters.
To Oriana the arrival of the young mother and her playful child was a source of much pleasure and comfort; for she had begun to feel the want of female society, and the women who accompanied Tisquantum's party, and assisted her in the domestic duties of the family, were no companions to her. In Mailah she saw that she could find a friend; and her kindness and sympathy soon attached the lonely young squaw to her, and even restored her to cheerfulness and activity. It was only when she visited the grave in which Henrich and Jyanough had laid the murdered Lincoya, and decked it with flowers and green boughs, that the widow seemed to feel the greatness of her affliction. Then she would weep bitterly, and, with passionate gestures, lament her brave warrior. But, at other times, she was fully occupied with the care of her little Lincoya, or in assisting Oriana in the light household duties that devolved upon her. And her sweet voice was often heard singing to the child, which generally hung at her back, nestled in its soft bed of moss.
The noble courser broke away.And bounded o'er the plain?The desert echoed to his tread,As high he toss'd his graceful head,And shook his flowing name.
King of the Western deserts! ThouArt still untam'd and free!Ne'er shall that crest he forced to bowBeneath the yoke of drudgery low:But still in freedom shalt thou roamThe boundless fields that form thy homeThy native Prairie!' ANON.
The camp of the Indian hunters looked cheerful and picturesque, as Oriana and Mailah approached it one evening on their return from a ramble in the forest, where they had been to seek the wild fruits that now abounded there, and paused at the skirt of the wood, to admire the scene before them. The proposed hunting-ground had been reached the preceding day, and already the temporary huts were completed, and the tents of the Sachem pitched beneath a grove of lofty oaks and walnuts, free from underwood, and on the border of a clear and rippling stream. The Nausett and Pequodee hunters had purchased a considerable number of horses from their Cree friends; and, therefore, the journey from Chingook's village to the prairie, in which the encampment now stood, had been performed with much ease and expedition; and the hardy animals were so little fatigued by their march through the forest, that several of the younger Indians had mounted again the morning after their arrival, and gone off on a reconnoitering expedition, to discover what prospect there was of finding much game in that neighborhood.
Henrich—proud and happy in the possession of a spirited horse, with which Tisquantum had presented him—insisted on being one of the party; end he was accompanied, also, by Jyanough, who had left his native village, now rendered sad and gloomy in his eyes, to follow his white friend, and share his society at least for a time. This arrangement gave Henrich the greatest satisfaction for the young Cree was the only Indian of his own sex in whom he had been able to find a companion, or who had peculiarly attached himself to the stranger: and the more he saw of Jyanough the more he found in him to win his esteem and friendship.
Oriana and Mailah seated themselves on the luxuriant grass to rest; and the young Indian mother removed her child from the strange cradle in which she always carried it, and laid it on her knees; and then, after gazing at it for a few moments, she began to sing a wild, sweet song, to hush it to sleep. In a soft, monotonous cadence, she sang the sad story of its little life—its birth—its captivity—and the death of its murdered father, whom she exhorted it to imitate, and live to equal in courage and in skill. And thus she sang:
'Child of the slain Lincoya, sleep In peace! Thy mother wakes to guard thee. But where is he whose smile once fell on thee as sunshine—thy father, Lincoya? He is gone to the far distant hunting-grounds and there, again, he casts the spear; and there he draws the unerring bow; and there he quaffs the cup of immortality, with the spirits of the good and brave. O Lincoya! thy voice was to me as a sweet song, or as the summer breeze among the tall cypress trees—why didst thou leave me? Thy step was swift and graceful as the roe upon the mountains—why didst thou leave me? But I will follow thee, my warrior, The death-bird has called me, and I come to thee! Thy child shall live; for Mahneto has given him friends and a home. He shall grow up like thee, and Oriana shill be o mother to him when I am gone: and the blue-eyed stranger, whom she loves as I loved thee, shall guide his hand in war, and in the chase. Lincoya! I come to thee!
Oriana listened to the mournful chant of the young widow with much interest and sympathy; but when she spoke of her love for her white brother, in terms so new and strange, she almost felt offended. She did not, however, remark on her friend's allusion to herself, but turned the discourse to Mailah's sad prophecy of her own early death, which she knew could only be grounded on one of the wild superstitions of her race.
'Why do you talk of dying, Mailah?' she asked. 'You are young and strong; and you may again be happy. Why do you say you will leave your child, and go to the land of spirits?'
'The death-bird[*] called to me last night, as I sat at the open door of the hut, and looked at the moon, and thought how its soft light was guiding my Lincoya on long, long, journey, to the everlasting hunting fields of his fathers. Cheepai-Peethees called me twice from the tree that hung over the lodge; but when I called to it again, and whistled clearly, it made no answer. I heard it the day before the Crees destroyed our village. It called my husband then, and would not answer him; and in two days he was slain. The death-bird is never mistaken.
[Footnote: A small owl calledCheepai-Peethees,or thedeath-bird,which the Indians attach the superstition here alluded to, and believe, if it does not answer to their whistle, it denotes their speedy death.]
O, Mailah!' replied the young Christian squaw, 'say not so. Surely it is not thus that the great Mahneto calls His children to come to Him. Once I believed all these Indian stories; but now I know that they are false and vain. I know that our lives, and all things that befall us, are in the hands of the wise and good God—the Mahneto of the Christians and of the red men too. And now I have no fear of any of those strange sounds that used to make me sad, and terrify me with thoughts of coming evil. I most teach you to believe as I do now: or, rather, mywhite brothershall teach you; for he knows the words of Mahneto himself. See, Mailah! There my brother comes—let us go to meet him.'
A flush of joy mounted to the clear olive cheek of Oriana as she said these words, and she sprang to her feet with the lightness of a fawn. Mailah rose more gently, and replacing her infant in the pouch, slung it over her shoulder, and followed her friend, softly whispering in her ear, The white stranger is your Lincoya.'
The Indian beauty smiled, and blushed more deeply: but she did not bound across the glade to meet Henrich as she had purposed doing. She drew her slender figure to its full height, and stood still; and as Henrich galloped across the green meadow, and alighted, full of animation, to tell her of his success in his first essay at hunting the elk, he wondered why she greeted him so coldly.
The fact was that Oriana was beginning to find that the blue-eyed stranger possessed even more interest in her eyes than she had ever felt for her own dark brother, Tekon; and when Mailah had openly alluded to this sentiment—which she thought unknown to all but herself—her natural and instinctive delicacy was wounded. But the feeling quickly wore away; and as Henrich and Jyanough detailed the exciting sports of the day, she forgot all but the pleasure of listening to his voice, and gazing at his fine countenance and bright sweet smile. She was happy; and she though not of the future.
And Henrich was happy, too. He had now found companions whom he could love; and the life of the Indian hunters was all that he had ever pictured to himself of freedom and adventure. The beauty of the scenery—the clearness of the sky—and the glow of health and excitement that animated his whole frame when he joined in the chase with his savage friends, were all so entirely different to the life he had led in damp and foggy Holland, that it was no wonder he enjoyed it, and that his youthful spirits enabled him to subdue the oft-recurring grief that he felt at each remembrance of his family and his home. Hope was strong in his breast; and he trusted once again to meet all whom he loved so dearly: and the present was so bright and inspiring that he could not desire to change it yet.
For many weeks the camp remained pitched in the same lovely situation; and the time of the hunters was fully occupied in the discovery and pursuit of the various wild animals that abounded in the uncultivated, but richly verdant, prairie. Of these, the elk and the buffalo were the most common victims to the spears and arrows of the Indians; and every evening large quantities of meat were brought into the camp, and given to the care of the squaws to dry and cure for winter consumption. These larger animals were too heavy to be transported whole to the huts; end therefore the hunters always skinned them and cut off the flesh where they fell, and left the carcasses to the wolves and the birds of prey that were ever ready at hand. But the smaller animals, and the wild turkeys and other birds, that were killed in great numbers, were brought in and thrown down by the blazing camp fires, that lighted up the glade every night, and were speedily prepared and cooked for the supper of the hungry hunters.
As the leader of the expedition, Tisquantum was always presented with the choicest of the game; and it was Oriana's task to superintend the curing of the elk and buffalo meat, and the cooking that was required for her father's lodge. In all these household cares she was greatly assisted by Mailah, who was both active and skilful in all the duties of an Indian squaw: and eager also to evince her gratitude for the kindness and protection that were afforded to herself and her child by the Nausett Chief, by doing all that she could to lighten Oriana's labors. Time and occupation did not fail to have their usual effect on one so young, and naturally so light-hearted as Mailah; and animated cheerfulness took the place of the mournful expression that had hitherto so frequently sat on her countenance. She did not forget Lincoya; but she forgot the call of the death-bird: and when she sang her child to sleep, it was no longer with the same sad cadence as at first. Sorrow could not strike very deep, or abide very long in the heart of a being so gay, and with a mind and feelings so utterly uncultivated as those of the young Stone Indian. Neither could she live so much in the society of the white stranger, and his two chosen companions, without imbibing something of their intelligence, and becoming sensible of their superiority of mind to all others with whom she had ever associated: and she grew more and more attached to them, and learnt to regret less the friends and companions among whom her youth had been spent.
She was a high-spirited and courageous creature: she would have followed her husband unhesitatingly to death, had she been called on to do so; or she would have died to save him, if her life could have availed to purchase his. But now that he was gone, and she could not even weep over his grave, and deck it with flowers and gifts, her lively spirit rose again, and led her to seek amusement and occupation in everything within her reach.
The accounts which Henrich and Jyanough continually gave to her and Oriana of their exciting adventures in the prairie, had aroused in both of them a strong desire to be spectators of the sport; and they sought and obtained Tisquantum's permission to accompany the hunters one morning to the buffalo ground that lay nearest to the camp, and there to witness the pursuit and capture of some of those magnificent animals.
A short ride through the forest brought the party out upon a vast and glorious prairie, on which the rich autumnal sun was shining in all his strength. On a rising ground that partially overlooked the plain, Oriana and her companion took up their position, beneath the shade of a grove of pines; and they watched the hunters as they examined the foot- prints on the dewy turf, or followed the tracks of the elks and buffaloes through the long prairie-grass, in order to make their arrangements for enclosing the game and driving the animals into an open and central situation.
In the course of this examination, the recent tracks of a number of wild horses were discovered, and fresh excitement was felt by the whole party, for all were desirous to attempt the capture of these most valuable animals; and they resolved, on this occasion, to make them the chief objects of their pursuit. A ring was, therefore, formed by the numerous company of horsemen, enclosing a very large space of the beautiful park-like ground, which was studded with trees, either single or in groups; while underneath them, in the distance, could be seen many buffaloes lying down or grazing. The scene had the appearance of a wide extent of finely-cultivated pasture, ornamented with timber of every kind; end it forcibly recalled to Henrich's memory the fields and the cattle that had surrounded his European home. But the size of the trees, the extent of the natural meadow, and, above all, the wild aspect of the red hunters with their spears, and bows, and tomahawks, soon destroyed the fancied resemblance; while the eagerness and excitement of the novel sport banished all the sad recollections to which it had given rise. A desire also to distinguish himself in the presence of Oriana, and show her that a pale-face could equal her own dark race in courage and dexterity, inspired him with peculiar ardor; and he galloped to the station appointed him by Tisquantum, with a heart that bounded with pride and pleasure.
The hunters were each provided with a long coil of grass rope, with a noose at the end—now called alariatorlasso—used by the Indians for casting over the horns of the elks and buffaloes, or the necks of the wild horses, that they desired to capture. These they carried in such a manner as to be ready to throw them off in an instant to their whole length, if necessary; but much practice is required to do this with precision, and Henrich did not yet hope for success in the difficult art. His only chance of capturing a wild courser lay in his skill in casting the spear, which might enable him to pierce the animal through the upper part of the neck, and thus produce a temporary insensibility, during which time he might be secured without any permanent injury. This also requires great precision and address; but Henrich had become an adept in the use of the light lance, and he felt sanguine of success if the opportunity should he afforded him.
The string of horsemen slowly and warily drew in towards the open spot that was intended to be the scene of their operations, and of which Oriana and Mailah had a good view from their safe and elevated position; and soon a troop of wild horses were disturbed by one of the hunters, and burst forth from a thick grove of trees that had previously concealed them. They rushed madly over the plain, mingling with the affrighted buffaloes and American deer, that had not hitherto perceived the stealthy approach of their foes. At every point where they attempted to escape from the enclosure they were met by a mounted huntsman, and were driven back, with shouts and cries, towards the center. All other game was now forgotten; and each hunter singled out, for his own object of pursuit, the steed that pleased him best, and of which he thought he could most easily gain possession. But one there was—the leader of the troop—on which many eyes were fixed with eager desire. He was a noble creature, of perfect form and proportions; and as he pranced before his companions, with neck erect, and throwing his head from side to side, as if to reconnoiter his assailants—while his mane and tail floated in the breeze, and his glossy coal-black skin gave back the rays of the morning sun—he looked like the King of the Prairie, going forth in the pride of perfect freedom.
The ring grew smaller and smaller; and every hand was steady, and every eye was fixed for the moment of trial: and soon the headlong pursuit commenced. At the first scattering of the wild troop, several of the younger and more feeble horses were secured; and some of the hunters, who despaired of nobler game, contented themselves with capturing or slaying either elks or buffaloes. But the finest horses escaped the first assault, and broke through the circling ring into the boundless meadow, where they were followed at mad speed by the hunters, poising their spears, and swinging their nooses round their heads, ready for a cast. Henrich and Jyanough, and several others of the best mounted Indians, had joined in the chase of the black leader, and dashed furiously after him over the plain. The horse that the English boy rode was strong and fleet, and the light weight of his rider enabled him to keep with the foremost of the red hunters' steeds, and, at length, to come almost alongside the noble courser. The spear was poised in Henrich's hand, and was just about to fly, when suddenly his horse fell to the ground, and rolled over on the turf, leaving his rider prostrate, but uninjured, except being stunned for a moment by the shock.
When he opened his eyes, and sprang to his feet, he saw the king of the desert galloping up a rising ground, over which he quickly disappeared, still hotly pursued by Coubitant and several of the hunters. Jyanough and the rest of his companions, had dismounted to assist their fallen friend, and to form conjectures as to the probable cause of the unlucky accident. For some time none could be perceived; but on carefully examining his horse, Henrich at length discovered a small wound in the hind leg, and found that the creature was lame. How, or by whom, the wound had been given, he could not even surmise; for in the eagerness of the chase he had not observed that Coubitant rode close behind him: and that he had passed him at full speed the moment his horse stumbled and fell. But Jyanough had remarked it; and from what he had already seen of the wily Indian, he felt convinced that, prompted by malicious jealousy, he had thus sought to deprive his rival of his hoped-for success, and, perhaps, even to inflict on him some grievous personal injury.
The young Indian had, however, the good sense to conceal his suspicions from Henrich at present, and to allow him to regard the whole affair as accidental; but he determined to keep a strict watch over the conduct of Coubitant for the future, and, if possible, to guard his friend from all his evil machinations.
Soon the Nausett and the rest of the hunters returned from their fruitless chase, and reported the escape of the noble wild coursers and when Jyanough heard the regrets that Coubitant expressed for the accident that had befallen Henrich, and the condolences he offered on his having thus missed the object which otherwise his skill most surely have attained, he could scarcely contain his indignation at such hypocrisy, or refrain from opening the eyes of the unsuspicious young Englishman.
They all returned together, at a slow pace, to the main body of the hunters, for Henrich's horse was too lame to be mounted; and, as soon as the adventure was made known, much sympathy and interest were shown for the disappointment of the pale-face, in which Oriana's countenance and manner showed she partook so warmly, that Coubitant turned aside to conceal his anger and vexation, and heartily wished that his well-aimed blow had not only deprived Henrich of the glory of that day's hunting, but had also put a stop for ever to the success for which he both hated and envied him.
The sport continued, after this interruption, as actively as before, but neither Henrich nor his horse could take any further share in it; and he remained with Oriana and Mailah, enjoying the beauty of the scenery, and gathering flowers and fruit for his companions, and for the little. Lincoya, who, freed from the restraint of his moss-lined bed, now rolled on the turf with Rodolph, and played with the gentle and intelligent animal.
How happy was Oriana that day! She was proud of the gallant bearing of her 'white brother' among the red warriors of her own wild race, and she had exulted at the praises which she had heard bestowed on his address as a hunter, and his shill in horsemanship, by Tisquantum and the elder Indians; and now, though she regretted his accident, and the disappointment which it had caused him, she did not suspect that it had been effected by the malice of a deadly enemy, and she rejoiced that it had given her the pleasure of his society for the rest of the day—a pleasure which she had but seldom enjoyed since their arrival in the prairie.
At the close of the day the game was collected, and, after due preparation, was carried back to the camp, where the squaws had already lighted the evening fires, and made every necessary arrangement for cooking the expected supper. Around these fires the hunters sat in groups, and discussed the events of the day, among which the accident that had befallen the pale-face excited much interest and conjecture. Jyanough listened to the probable and improbable causes that were assigned by all the speakers, especially by Coubitant, to account for so strange a circumstance; but he held his peace, for in his inmost soul he was only more and more convinced that the subtle and dark- brewed savage was the perpetrator of the malicious deed.
In this suspicion, he was the more strongly confirmed by an event that occurred a few days afterwards. It had been discovered that the stream that ran so gently by the side of the encampment fell, at some distance to the west, into a river of considerable size and depth, which then ran on over a descending and rocky bed, forming alternately smooth broad sheets of water and noisy broken falls, until it precipitated itself over a sudden precipice of great depth, and fell dashing and foaming into the basin which its continual fall had worn in the rocks below. The distant roar of this cataract had frequently been heard in the camp, when the wind came from that direction, and when the stillness of the night—broken only by the occasional howl of wild beasts seeking their prey, or the melancholy cry of the goat-sucker[*] succeeded to the sounds of labor or idleness that generally kept the temporary village alive by day. But, hitherto, no one had had leisure or inclination to leave the excitement and novelty of hunting to explore the river, or ascertain its capabilities for fishing.
[Footnote: This mournful sound is believed by the Indians to be the moaning of the departed spirits of women who have committed infanticide; and who are, consequently, excluded by Mahneto from the happy mountains which are the abode of the blessed.]
Now, however, Coubitant brought in a report one evening that the great stream abounded in fish; and proposed in to Henrich that, as he was for the present unable to join in the more active business of the chase, he should assist him in forming a light canoe, in which they could go out and spear the game that lay beneath the clear blue water in the smooth reaches of the river.
To this proposal Henrich readily assented; for the sport was one of which he had beard his Indian friends speak with great pleasure, and he greatly wished to enjoy it. The canoe was immediately commenced; and as it merely consisted of the trunk of a straight tulip-tree, hollowed out by means of fire, and shaped with a hatchet, it was completed in a couple of days.
The light spears that were to pierce the fish were prepared, and long slender lines of twisted grass were fastened to their shafts for the purpose of drawing in their prey; and the following morning, when the hunters were ready to set out on their usual expedition, Coubitant desired Henrich to accompany him to the river side, where their little bark lay ready to receive them. Why, on hearing this proposal, did Jyanough still linger when all the rest of the hunters were mounted, and his own steed was pawing the ground, impatient of his master's delay? And why, after gazing a few moments at Coubitant's dark countenance, did he declare his wish to join the fishing party, and requested the Nausett to allow him to take a place in the canoe? Did he see treachery in that eye of fire? Jyanough could lend his horse to the pale-face, if he should happen to wish to hunt.
His request was, however, negatived decidedly by Coubitant; who assured him, with assumed courtesy, that he regretted the size of the boat was too small to admit of its carrying a third sportsman with safety; but invited him to join him in the same sport the following day, when, he added—with that smile that Oriana hated—Jyanough could lend his horse to the pale-face, if he should happen to wish to hunt.
The young Cree was baffled. He would gladly have pre vented his friend from accompanying Coubitant on the expedition; but be had no means of doing so, or even of putting him on his guard against any possible evil designs on the part of his companion. So he sprang upon his eager horse, and galloped after the hunters, hoping that his fears and suspicions were unfounded.
Oriana and Mailah, attended by their faithful companion Rodolph, walked down to the edge of the river, to see the fishermen embark in their frail vessel; and, for some time, they watched the sport with considerable interest, and admired the skill with which Coubitant pierced and brought up several large fish. These he attracted towards the canoe by means of some preparation that he scattered on the surface of the water; and when the fish appeared within reach of his spear, he darted it with unerring aim, and drew in his struggling victim with the line that was attached to it. Henrich was also provided with weapons; but as the sport was entirely new to him, he found it difficult to take a steady aim, and his success was slight.
Coubitant, however, had soon secured a considerable stock of fish, and he rowed to the shore, and requested Oriana and her companion to convey them to the Sachem's lodge; adding, in a careless tone, that it would not be worth their while to return to the river, as he was going to a reach at some distance down the stream, towards the head of the cataract, where he expected to show Henrich excellent sport.
The two young women returned to the camp; and, having committed the fine fish to the care of the inferior squaws, they agreed to go again towards the river, and take this opportunity of visiting the falls, which they much desired to see, and near which they should probably again meet the fishermen. They rambled through the wood, taking a direct course towards the cataract, the sound of whose waters soon became sufficiently audible to guide them in their unknown way. Sometimes they came in sight of the river; and again they saw the little canoe, either standing motionless on the smooth surface of the water where the stream was wide and unbroken, or else passing, under the skilful guidance of Coubitant, between the rocks that occasionally disturbed its course, and formed foaming rapids, down which the little bark darted with fearful velocity.
The last reach of the broad river was as calm and smooth as a lake. It seemed as if the collected mass of water, which had gathered there from many a broken and troubled stream, and had struggled through many windings and many difficulties, was reposing there, and gaining strength for its last great leap over the dark precipice. As Oriana and Mailah approached the verge of the scattered forest, and stood to gaze on the magnificent scene before them, they perceived the canoe descend a narrow rapid, and then take up a position below an elevated mass of rock, where the water was perfectly still, and where the fishermen could quietly pursue their occupation. They evidently did not perceive their female friends, and the roar of the cataract was now so loud as to prevent all possibility of their hearing their voices. For a short time Oriana and her friend watched their movements, and saw several fish captured; and then proceeded along the steep and rocky bank, in order to obtain a still better view of the waterfall.
It was a beautiful scene on which those two young Indians looked; and they felt its power and grandeur, and stood silent and motionless. The cataract was beneath them; and its roar came up like thunder from the dark deep basin into which its weight of waters fell, and threw up a cloud of foam and spray; and then it rushed away again, as if in gladness at its safe descent and free course, until the shining stream was hidden by the rocks and overhanging trees that marked its winding course. The natural platform on which Oriana and Mailah stood, commanded a view not only of the wild cataract and the lower stretch of the river, but also of the bold steep rocks on the opposite side, and the dark forest that stretched away to the distant mountains that bounded the horizon. It likewise enabled them to perceive the small canoe, lying motionless on the water, in the shadow of the projecting rock.
By and by the boat was rowed into the center of the river, and Coubitant appeared to be seeking for a good fishing spot, as he pointed in different directions, and once or twice darted his spear into the water, and drew it out again without any success. Meanwhile, the canoe floated slowly down the stream, but its motion gradually increased as it approached the fall; and Oriana gazed at it, expecting every moment that Coubitant, who had now taken the oar in his powerful grasp, would turn its course, and either draw towards the shore; or else row back again up the river, and land below the first rapids. To her surprise, and somewhat to her anxiety, he still continued, however, to allow the canoe to proceed; and she saw Henrich take a dart in his hand, and stand erect as if to strike at something beneath the surface, to which Coubitant pointed with the paddle. Another instant, and her white brother was in the water, and struggling to catch the side of the canoe! Breathlessly she gazed; and she distinctly saw the paddle which Coubitant held, extended towards the uplifted hand of Henrich. Still he did not grasp it! O! why was this? And then the boat, which bad already floated perilously near to the fall, was Suddenly turned, and she beheld Coubitant making violent efforts to overcome the force of the current, and row to the opposite and nearest shore. He was alone!
And where was Henrich? Where was the brave young stranger? Battling desperately with the rapid stream which was carrying him onward to destruction. He rose and sank, rose again, and the current bore him on with resistless force. For a moment, Oriana clasped her hands over her eyes, to shut out the dreadful sight; and then, as if inspired by a gleam of supernatural hope, she darted forward, calling Rodolph, and pointing to the stream. The intelligent creature had seen the form of Henrich in the water, and only waited his mistress's command to risk his life in the attempt to save him. But his sagacity taught him that it was useless to enter the river above the fall; and he bounded down the steep bank that led to its foot, and stood eager, and panting, on a point of rock that overhung the basin. Oriana was quickly on the same spot, followed by Mailah; but ere they reached it, the dog had plunged into the foaming waters, and now appeared, upholding the inanimate form of Henrich, and struggling fearfully to drag him from the whirlpool.
O, it was a sickening sight! and Oriana's heart stood still in the agony of suspense She could not aid her brother! She could not cope with that mad whirl of water! But she leaped down the steep rocks, and stood on the narrow ledge of shore below, to wait the moment for action. At length—after what appeared almost a hopeless conflict with the dashing waters—Rodolph appeared through the cloud of foam and slowly and feebly swam towards the shore, still supporting the lifeless burden that seemed almost to drag him beneath the surface.
Now was the time for the Indian girl to prove her skill and courage. Lightly she sprang into the water, and in a moment she was at Rodolphs side; and, with one arm sustaining the drooping head of Henrich, while, with the other, she dexterously swam back to the spot where Mailah stood ready to assist her. With much difficulty they lifted the senseless form of Henrich on the shore, and proceeded to adopt every means in their power to restore suspended animation; while Rodolph—the faithful devoted Rodolph—lay down panting and exhausted, but still keeping a watchful eye on him whom he had so daringly rescued. Long the two young Indians labored in silence, and almost in despair; for no color returned to those pallid lips, and no warmth was perceptible in the chilled and stiffened hands, that fell powerless by his side. Still they persevered: and no tear, no lamentation, betrayed the anguish that wrung the heart of Oriana, while she believed that all was in vain. But her soul was lifted up in prayer to the One True God, in whom she had been taught to put her trust by her beloved white brother: and in His mercy was her only hope.
Nor was that hope in vain. The warm beams of the mid-day sun fell powerfully on that sheltered spot where the little group were gathered, and, combined with the continued friction that Oriana and Mailah employed, at length brought back the life-blood to Henrich's cheeks and lips, and his anxious nurses had the joy of perceiving that he breathed. A few minutes more, and he opened his deep blue eyes, and looked wildly around him, and spoke some English words that Oriana heard amid the din of the falling waters, and knew were of his home and his kindred. And then he uttered her own name, and attempted to rise, but fell back again into her arms, and smiled sweetly and gratefully when her eyes met his, and he saw that she was watching over him. There was joy—deep joy and gratitude—in those young hearts at that moment; but Henrich's weakness, and the noise of, the roaring cataract, prevented them from communicating their feelings in words, and Oriana forbore to ask any questions of Henrich relative to the cause of his perilous adventure.
After some time he seemed greatly to recover, and, rising from the ground, he slowly mounted the bank, supported by Oriana and her friend. But it was evident that he was quite unable to proceed on foot to the camp, and it was agreed that Mailah should return as quickly as possible and bring such assistance as she could procure from thence, while Henrich and Oriana should advance as far as his enfeebled state would admit of.
Mailah's light form soon disappeared in the wood, and it was not long ere she reached the camp, and hastened to the tent of Tisquantum, who, on that day, had not joined the hunting party. She told her story, in which the old Chief showed the deepest interest; and she observed a dark frown on his brow while she related the unsuccessful attempts of Coubitant to draw Henrich from the water with his paddle; but he made no remark.
The hunters were still absent, and few men remained in the camp. These were all engaged in felling wood and other laborious employments, and Tisquantum prepared to lead his own horse out to meet his adopted son. But, just as he and Mailah were leaving the camp for this purpose, Coubitant came rapidly up from the river's brink, and, hurrying towards them, began to relate, with expressions of grief and consternation, the sad fate which he believed to have befallen the young stranger, and the exertions that he had made to save his life, but which had, unhappily, proved unavailing to avert the calamity. The sorrow of the Nausett Indian seemed excessive; and Tisquantum probably considered it so, for he listened with perfect calmness to his recital, and then merely replied, 'Happily, the youth is safe. Mahneto has succored him, and I go to bring him back to the camp.'
Coubitant started: and he looked embarrassed for a moment, when he caught the penetrating eye of Mailah fixed on his countenance. But he quickly recovered his self-possession, and manifested such joy at the escape of the white stranger from a watery grave, that Mailah almost chid herself for her dreadful suspicions.
Coubitant accompanied her and the Sachem on their way through the forest, and when they met Henrich and Oriana, he again assumed such an appearance of pleasure, and so warmly congratulated the former on his miraculous deliverance, that the generous English youth strove to banish from his mind the fearful thoughts that had arisen there while he struggled for life close to the canoe, and wondered at the want of skill and strength displayed by his companion in his abortive attempts to save him. Oriana coldly received his greeting. She had long suspected that he regarded Henrich with hatred and jealousy; and her worst suspicions had that day received a strong confirmation. Still she resolved to conceal them—at least at present—from all but Jyanough, whose friendship for Henrich would, she knew, render him peculiarly alive to all that concerned his safety.
She had not long to wait, for the hunters soon returned; and she observed that, when Jyanough heard the story of the day's adventure, he cast a glance on Coubitant that made the conscious savage quail. But when she related to the young Cree all that she and Mailah had observed, he could restrain his feelings no longer, and plainly told her that he was convinced that Coubitant was the author of the calamity, and that it was not the first attempt he had made at Henrich's life.
They resolved that he should communicate all his suspicions to the Sachem the following morning, and urge him to take measures for the safety of his adopted son: but what was Jyanough's surprise, when he opened the subject to Tisquantum, at being informed that Coubitant had already left the camp with the Pequodees! Jyanough knew that it was their intention that morning, at day-break, to set off on their return to their own woods and plains, and he found that the wily Nausett had expressed a desire to accompany them, and join in the war that was going on between their tribe and some of their neighbors, in order to distinguish himself as a warrior. It was not the Sachem's intention to rejoin his tribe for a considerable time. He was fond of wandering, and proposed to travel towards the north when the hunting season should be over; and he also felt a reluctance to take his now greatly beloved captive back to that part of the country where it was possible he might gain intelligence of his friends, or, perhaps, even make his escape to them. He had, therefore, consented to Coubitant's request, and evidently felt an undefined satisfaction in his absence.
This being the case, and the departure of Coubitant having removed all present danger to Henrich from his malicious schemes, Jyanough forbore to express all he felt to the old Sachem; and he returned to Oriana with the pleasant intelligence that the enemy of her white brother had departed.
To the young Squaw-Sachem this news imparted infinite relief; and even Henrich could not regret it, although he found it difficult to believe that all the suspicions of his friends were well-founded. Still the events of the preceding day were quite sufficient to make him doubt more than ever the sincerity of Coubitant's professed regard; and he felt that he should be happier now that the dark-browed savage was gone. To his pleasant life of freedom we will now leave him, and return to New Plymouth, where many events—deeply interesting to the settlers—had occurred since his involuntary departure, and supposed death.
'There went a dirge through the forest's gloom.
An exile was borne to a lonely tomb,Brother;—so the chant was sungIn the slumberers native tongue—Friend and brother! not for theeShall the sound of weeping be. HEMANS.
Sadly and slowly the Pilgrim Fathers passed along the scattered village of log huts which was their home in their voluntary exile, and wound up the pathway that led towards the summit of the mount, afterwards called 'the Burying Hill,' on which they had constructed a rude fort or storehouse, and whither they were now bearing to his last earthly home the chief and the most respected of their community. The Governor Carver—he who had presided over their councils, and directed all their movements since the memorable day of their landing, and had been the friend, the physician, the comforter of his little flock, through all their trials and all their sufferings—had fallen a victim to disease and over-exertion, just as spring, with all its brighter hopes for the future, had set in.
It was but a few days after Henrich's capture that this heavy affliction befell the colony, and added greatly to the gloom which the loss of young Maitland had already cast over the whole village. The departure, also, of the vessel in which the Pilgrims had come out to America, occurred at the same time; and, although not one of the exiles desired to return to the land of their birth, and to abandon the enterprise on which they had entered so devotedly, yet it was a melancholy hour when they bade adieu to the captain and his crew, and saw the Mayflower sail away towards their still much-loved, country.
The scurvy and other diseasescombined with the hardships and privations to which they had been exposed during the winter and early spring—had fearfully reduced the number of the ship's company; and of those who remained, the greater part were weakened by illness, and dispirited by the loss of so many of their brave comrades, whose graves they had dug on the bleak shores of New England. The return of spring, and the supply of provisions that the settlers were able to obtain from the friendly Indians, had checked the progress of the fatal complaints that had so fearfully ravaged the colony during the severity of winter; and had restored the survivors of the ship's crew to comparative health and strength. The captain was, therefore, glad to seize the first opportunity of abandoning a shore which had presented to him so cheerless and melancholy an aspect, and of leaving the steadfast and devoted exiles to the fate which they had chosen, and which they were resolved to abide in faith and hope.
On the very day that the Mayflower set sail, and while its white sails could still be distinguished in the eastern horizon, the Governor—who took an active part in every occupation, and even every labor that engaged the settlers—was busily employed in sowing corn in the fields that were considered as the common property of the colony. In directing and superintending this work, he was greatly assisted by the skill and experience of Squanto, the native who, as we have already related, had been so treacherously carried off to England by Hunt, and had, on his return to America, sought out, and attached himself to, the settlers. By them he was greatly regarded, and his knowledge of the English language rendered his services of inestimable value in all their intercourse with the Indian tribes; while his acquaintance with the soil on which they had established themselves, and the native modes of cultivating grain and other vegetable produce, was of the greatest use to men who were only accustomed to European agriculture.
The maize and other grain were sown in the fields that had been richly manured with fish, to ensure an abundant crop;[*] and the laborers returned in a body to the village, led by their venerable and respected President; but no sooner had Carver re-entered his dwelling than he swooned away and never recovered his consciousness. In a few days he breathed his last, to the unutterable grief of his widow, and the deep regret of all the settlers, whose love and confidence he had won during his brief government, by his clear-sighted wisdom and his universal kindness.
[Footnote: It was the custom of the Indians to manure their fields withshadsorallezes,a small fish that comes up the rivers in vast numbers at the spawning season. About a thousand fish were used for every acre of land; and a single alleze was usually put into every corn-hill, when they buried their grain for winter consumption; probably as a charm to keep off the evil demons and hostile wandering spirits.]
As his funeral procession wound up the hill, tears might be seen on the cheek of many a sturdy Pilgrim; and sobs and lamentations broke forth from the women and children. After his remains were laid in their resting-place, a fervent prayer was offered up by Brewster (whose age and character caused him to be regarded as the pastor of the colony, although he had never been called to the ministry after the custom of the Puritans); and then a hymn was sung by the united voices of the whole congregation.
When this simple ceremony was over, and the grave of the departed President was closed, and laid level with the surrounding ground—in order to conceal it from the prowling Indians—the assembly repaired to the fort, or store-house, that stood on the summit of the hill, and which also served the purpose of a meeting-house or chapel. Its rude end unadorned simplicity suited, the peculiar ideas of the Puritans, who, in their zeal to escape from the elaborate ornaments and pompous ceremonial employed by the Papists, had rushed into the opposite extreme, and desired that both their place of worship, and their mode of performing it, should be divested of every external decoration and every prescribed form. The more their place of meeting for prayer resembled an ordinary habitation, the better they considered it suited to the sacred purpose; and they were, therefore, perfectly satisfied to possess no other church than the rude fort, built of logs and posts, and used indifferently as a granary for the public stores, and as a fortress for the defense of the colony from any incursions of the hostile tribes.
In this primitive chapel, Brewster was accustomed to lead the devotions of the Pilgrims and their families, every 'Lord's Day' morning and afternoon;[*] and also on any other occasion of their assembling together. But as they were in continual expectation of the arrival of the venerated John Robinson, to resume his office of regular pastor of the flock, they had not taken any measures to gratify their ardent desire of hearing the'blessed sermon'three times en every Lord's Day, from some holy man entirely devoted to the service of God. The addresses occasionally delivered to the congregation by Brewster, or by any other of the ruling elders who might preside at a meeting, were calleddiscoursesnot sermons; and the interpretation of certain portions of Scripture, which was sometimes undertaken by any member of the congregation who felt equal to it, was called'prophesying.'These were the only modes of spiritual instruction employed by the first settlers, until they procured clergymen from England, or appointed ministers from among their own elders; and these means were highly valued by the settlers, who had abandoned home, and kindred, and the comforts of civilized life, for no other motive than to secure to themselves the privilege of worshipping God according to their own ideas of what was good and profitable to their souls. The talents and the elevated piety of William Brewster rendered him both a very valuable teacher, and also, in the eyes of the Puritans, an efficient substitute for their expected pastor.
[Footnote: The Puritans never used the namesSundayorSabbath.They objected is the first as savoring of Paganism and to the second aspertaining to Judaism; and yet they enforced the observance of theChristians day of rest with almost Mosaic strictness.]
On the present mournful occasion he addressed the congregation, in a very impressive manner, on the heavy loss they had sustained in the death of their valued President; and exhorted them to remember and to imitate his piety, his charity, and his exemplary patience and self- denial, under the trying circumstances that had marked the period of his brief government. These circumstances had become less painful, it is true, since their friendly intercourse with the Wampanoges, and the genial change in the weather; but still the trials of the Pilgrims were by no means over, and their need of faith in the good providence of God, and of persevering resolution in the path which they had chosen for themselves, remained as great as ever.
Deeply was the less of their first President felt by the colony, for every individual mourned him as a private friend, as well as a wise end benevolent ruler. But the blow fell with more crushing power on her who had shared his checkered life of joy and sorrow for many years in Europe, and had accompanied him into exile, with the devoted feeling that his presence would make the wilderness a home. His sudden removal, and the cheerless blank that succeeded, were more than the strength of his afflicted widow could endure; and in six weeks she followed him the grave. From that time, it appeared as if the severity of the scourge that had ravaged the infant settlement was exhausted, for scarcely any more deaths occurred during that year; and many who had hitherto suffered from the effects of disease, regained their usual strength, and lived to a remarkably advanced age.
William Bradford was the individual selected by the community to fill the arduous and responsible office that had been held so few months by Carver; and the choice was a most judicious one, for he was a man well suited to be the leader of a colony exposed to the peculiar difficulties that surrounded the Puritan exiles. His uncommon sagacity and penetration of character, and his undaunted resolution in times of danger, caused him to be regarded as the very prop and support of the settlement; and his worth was so generally acknowledged, and so highly appreciated, that he continued to be annually elected Governor for twelve succeeding years: and never did he disappoint the confidence thus reposed in him. His treatment of the Indians was one point on which he showed both the correctness of his judgement, and the right feelings of his heart. He ever acted towards them with true Christian benevolence and equity; and, at the same, he preserved that authority and superiority over them which were necessary to the safety and well- being of the colony; and he also carefully kept from them those European weapons, the possession of which might render them dangerous to the settlers, and aggravate the frequent hostilities among their own rival tribes. Unhappily, a different course was afterwards pursued by the leaders of the colony of Massachusetts; and the evil con sequences of such short-sighted policy were soon but too apparent, and tended to involve not only the new settlers, but also the original colony of New Plymouth, in quarrels and disturbances with the natives. This however, did not occur for some time after the period of which we are now speaking; and, for the present, Bradford succeeded in maintaining the best possible relations with the already friendly Wampanoges.
William Bradford had been originally brought up as a husbandman; and although he had abandoned this calling to devote himself to the study of the Scriptures, and the writings of the Fathers—for which purpose he had acquired the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages—he still retained such a, know ledge of agriculture as proved extremely useful to him as the leader of a young colony, whose support was to be mainly derived from the land of which they had taken possession. He also spoke French and Dutch fluently; and the diary and letters that he has left to posterity show him to have been both a well informed and a truly pious man. When the Puritans left Amsterdam under their pastor, John Robinson, and settled at Leyden, Bradford was scarcely twenty years of age. He there learnt the art of dyeing silk, in order to support himself while he pursued his theological studies, and also performed the part of historian to the community of which he had become a member; and he remained with the congregation during all the years of their residence in Holland, and attached himself with the most affectionate reverence to their generally beloved and respected minister.
One of the first acts of his administration, as Governor of New Plymouth, was to send another embassy to Masasoyt, the Great Sagamore of the whole Wampanoge tribe, in order to strengthen and confirm his present amicable feelings towards the white men, by means of presents, and other marks of friendship. Squanto, as usual, accompanied the party as interpreter; and nothing could be more satisfactory than the interview proved to all parties, especially to the Indian Chief, who was made both proud and happy by the gift of a red military coat, adorned with silver lace. This he immediately put on, over the paint and other savage ornaments in which he was decorated for the state occasion; and he greatly diverted the members of the embassy by the increased air of dignity that he assumed, and the grandiloquous manner in which he began to extol his own power and glory.
'Am I not,' he exclaimed, in a loud voice, 'Masasoyt, the great king? Am I not lord of all the people of the Lowsons; and of such and such places? And he enumerated nearly thirty uncouth Indian names of places over which he claimed sovereignty, his wild subjects uttering a yell of joy and exultation in answer to each word he uttered. The savage monarch then proceeded to ratify and augment the agreement into which he had already catered with Edward Winslow, and promised to guarantee to the English settlers an exclusive trade with his tribe; at the same time entreating them to prevent his powerful enemies, the Narragansetts, from carrying on a commercial intercourse with the French colonists.
Notwithstanding the boasted power of this 'Chief of chiefs,' the scarcity of provisions was so great in his village of Packanokick at the time of this embassy, that he was only able to offer his white friends one meal during their visit to him, which lasted a day and two nights; and this solitary display of regal hospitality consisted of two large fishes just caught in a neighboring lake, and which were divided amongst forty hungry persons. In spite of this temporary distress, he pressed the deputation to remain longer with him; but the object of their mission having been attained, they were glad to leave the residence of the Sagamore, which possessed far less of comfort and civilization than were to be found in the picturesque summer camp of his son and inferior Sachem, Mooanam.
This lovely spot continued to be much frequented by the settlers, between whom and their copper-colored neighbors a strong feeling of mutual regard became established; and this friendship proved a great advantage to both parties, in a social as well as a political point of view. The Wampanoges found the benefit of their alliance with the mighty English during the autumn of that year, when the dread which their name and power had inspired proved a safeguard to the friendly Indian tribe, and preserved them from a combined attack of several other tribes who had, by some mysterious means, been instigated to unite for their destruction.
The intelligence of this conspiracy reached the settlers when a party of them were on the peninsula of Cape Cod, whither they had gone to bring back a young English boy, named Francis Billington, who had lost himself in the forest some time previously, and, after having subsisted for several days on wild fruits and berries, had reached a camp of the Nausett Indians, hitherto so adverse to the Pilgrims. This seemed a good opportunity for endeavoring to establish more friendly relations with the tribe, and Bradford sent off ten men in the shallop to negotiate for the boy's restoration, and to offer gifts to the Nausetts, who, happily, were not so cruel and blood-thirsty a party as those who had kidnapped Henrich Maitland. The overtures of the settlers were well received, and they presented the Chief of the village with a pair of knives, and also returned to the natives a quantity of corn, more than equal to that which they had taken from the graves and huts that they had discovered on their first landing, and which belonged to the Nausetts. This act of justice gained for the settlers the esteem and confidence of the Indians; and as these original possessors of the soil did not dispute the title of the newcomers to the portion of the American soil on which they had established themselves, they considered henceforth that their claim was valid, and that they could stand before the natives on terms of equality.
The lost child was safely restored to Rodolph, who, as usual, shared the conduct of the expedition with Edward Winslow. The joy and gratitude of the boy's father, at being permitted to convey him home uninjured, may be better imagined than described; and while Maitland sympathized in his feelings, he could not help sadly contrasting the fate of his own lost Henrich with that of the more fortunate Francis Billington. But he believed that his son's earthly career had closed for ever; and both he and Helen had submitted to the bereavement with Christian piety and resignation, and had taught their wounded hearts to restrain every impulse to repine, and even to feel thankful that their beloved boy had been spared any protracted sufferings and trials, and had been permitted so speedily to enter into his rest. Had they known his actual late and condition, how much of painful anxiety would have mingled with the sorrow of separation, from which they were now exempt!
The restoration of the little wanderer having been effected, and a good understanding having been established with the Nausetts of Cape Cod, the negotiating party lost no time in returning to New Plymouth, and communicating to Governor Bradford the intelligence of the conspiracy against Masasoyt, to which allusion has already been made, and of which they had been informed by the Nausett Sachem. The news was startling to Bradford and to his council, who all felt the imperative necessity of using immediate efforts for the assistance of the friendly Wampanoges. They were impelled to this resolution, not only in consideration of the alliance that had been formed between themselves and the Sagamore Masasoyt, but also from a conviction that the safety and welfare of the infant colony depended essentially upon their possessing the friendship and the protection of some powerful tribe, like the Wampanoges, whose numbers and warlike character caused them to be both feared and respected by their weaker neighbors. It could only be by a combination of several tribes that any important defeat Of the Wampanoges could possibly be effected: and such a combination the Nausetts declared they knew to have been already formed; though by what means, and with what motive, remained at present a mystery.
The Indian interpreter, Squanto, was therefore sent off to Masasoyt's residence at Lowams, in order to ascertain the grounds of the quarrel, and to effect, if possible, a reconciliation, without the necessity of the Pilgrims having recourse to arms in defense of their allies. The interpreter was also accompanied by Hobomak, a subject of the Wampanoge chieftain's, who had lately left his own wigwams and settled among the English, and who had already attached himself to the white men with an uncommon degree of devotion. But ere the swarthy ambassadors reached the village of Packanokick, they were suddenly attacked by a small party of Narragansett warriors, who lay in ambush near their path through the forest, and were conveyed away captives to the presence of a fierce looking Indian, who appeared to be a man of power and authority, and who was evidently awaiting their arrival in a small temporary encampment at a little distance.
No sooner had Hobomak glanced at this dark chieftain, than he recognized Coubitant, the bitter foe of the settlers, and the captor of Henrich Maitland. Coubitant had originally been a subject of the Sachem Masasoyt; but some offence, either real or imaginary, had converted him from a friend into a bitter foe; and then it was that he had wandered towards the Spanish settlements, and obtained that prejudiced notion of Christianity to which we have formerly alluded. When tired of his wild roaming life, he had united himself to that portion of the Nausett tribe which was under the guidance of Tisquantum; and his attachment to the Sachem's son, Tekoa, had induced him to remain a member of the tribe during his life, and to devote himself to the object of revenging his death, after that event had occurred at the first encounter with the white settlers.
Hitherto that object had been frustrated by what appeared to him Tisquantum's incomprehensible partiality fur Henrich, which had so entirely prevented his wreaking his vengeance on the innocent son of the slayer. But his was not a revenge that could expire unsatiated, or change to friendship, and expend itself in acts of kindness, as that of Tisquantum had done. No: the thirst for blood remained as strong in the breast of Coubitant as it was on that very hour when he beheld his brother-in-arms fall, bleeding and dying, beneath the mysterious firearms of the white men; and he hoped still to pour forth the white man's blood, as an oblation to the spirit of his friend. Therefore it was that, when he found himself foiled in all his malicious schemes for Henrich's destruction, and also perceived that he was himself becoming an object of suspicion to Jyanough and to the Sachem, he had resolved on quitting the Nausetts, and returning with the Pequodees into the neighborhood of the English settlement. He hoped to stir up several smaller tribes to join with the Narragansetts, and to make war against the Wampanoges—the allies of the Pilgrims—and thus to deprive the hated whites of their aid and protection, and, possibly, also to engage the settlers in the quarrel, and then to find an opportunity of taking one or more of them captive, and slaking the desires of his vindictive spirit in the agonies that he would inflict on his victims. Truly, 'the dark places' of his heart were full of the habitations of cruelty.'