The Landing of the Pilgrims Page 5

  He and a half-dozen others still had strength enough to feed the thin soup to the sick, to cheer the wasted forms in the crude beds, to hew wood and carry water so that Plymouth might live.

  Bradford from his sick bed had watched the stocky man of war, day and night on his rounds, tending the sick with a woman’s tenderness. Years later, rugged old Governor Bradford remembered and wrote tribute in his blunt prose.

  There was but 6 or 7 sound persons, so to their great comendations be it spoken, spared no pains, night or day, but with abundance of toyle and hazard of their owne health, fetched them woode, made them fires, drest them meat, made their beads, washed their lothsome cloaths, cloathed and uncloathed them; in a word did all ye homly and necessarie offices for them which dainty & quesie stomacks can not endure to hear named; & all this willingly and cherfully, without any grudging in ye least, shewing herein their true love unto their friends & brethern. A rare example and worthy to be remembered. Tow of these 7 were Mr. William Brewster, ther Reverend Elder and Miles Standish ther Captein and military commander, unto whom myself & many others, were much holden in our low & sicke condition.

  Death had come aboard the Mayflower. One by one the sickness took the riotous crew who brutally ignored their comrades dying miserably in their bunks. To these men who had cursed and tormented them, the women aboard the ship brought what care and comfort they could with a Christlike compassion.

  In the fires and ice of that first winter, their spirits were steel-tempered to build a nation of men and women who would never turn back in quest of freedom and justice and brotherhood.

  Lost in the Forest

  (January 1621)

  To those city dwellers from Leyden who for years had lived sheltered indoor lives, this rugged existence on the bleak New England hillside was utterly new and strange. Around and enclosing them stretched the mysterious forest. As they wandered into it in search of food or wood, unforeseen adventures suddenly beset them. Terrifying situations for which they were utterly unprepared overtook them.

  To men who had spent drab and colorless years at the looms of Leyden, each day in this strange world brought dangers, violent actions, and sudden challenges.

  One day at noon four thatch cutters stopped work and got out their biscuits and cheese for dinner. After they had finished their simple meal, Peter Browne and John Goodman decided to walk in the woods toward the lakes with their two dogs.

  When Peter and John did not return, their companions searched the woods calling and hallooing, but no trace of the men or dogs was to be found. Maybe Peter and John had walked into an Indian ambush. The two searchers hurried back to the Plantation with the news. All that afternoon a search party scoured the woods, but found no trace of the two men. Next day a dozen musketeers ranged as far as they dared into the forest, but they had no success.

  The truth of the matter was that Peter and John had walked deep into the forest. Their two dogs, a little spaniel and a mastiff, had run ahead, sniffing among the leaves. Suddenly the dogs made a dash through the thicket toward the lake shore, and a great buck leaped lightly up and away. The chase was on. Peter and John ran excitedly after the dogs. This was a rare chance for venison for hungry Plymouth.

  The deer had vanished as if it had been on wings, but the dogs went rushing noisily through the brush. After an hour’s chase the two men became winded, and called back their animals. As Peter and John tramped back among the bare tree trunks, they became bewildered and called and called until they were hoarse. They were lost; even the dogs could not pick up their trail back. As the early winter twilight came on, it began to rain. The men were exhausted and very hungry. Soon the wind blew cold and snow began to fall. Utterly confused, they staggered on. Through the darkness a long and dismal howl rose and then another. It seemed to follow them.

  “It must be lions,” said Peter, who knew very little about animals.

  The two men found a tree that they could easily climb. Very near them another long howl wavered through the night.

  “It is a lion,” said John, who knew even less about zoology.

  The spaniel whimpered and the mastiff strained at her leash as the hair on her neck bristled, but the men held her back. When “the lions” came, Peter and John planned to let her go while they themselves took to the tree. All that night they paced up and down in the snow and freezing cold, numb and unspeakably miserable.

  Dawn came and the howling ceased. They marched on through the snow. All morning they dragged on. That afternoon, after they crossed a five-mile plain that had been burnt off by the Indians, they came to a hill. From its top they caught a gleam of light on water. It was Plymouth Harbor! They could make out the island and the long fish-hook peninsula. They staggered into the Plantation half-frozen and exhausted, but still alive.

  A week later John Goodman hobbled out for a walk on his lame feet, with the little spaniel for a companion. Two gray wolves leaped from a thicket and ran for the spaniel. The little dog dashed back to safety between John Goodman’s legs.

  As the wolves circled, John heaved a log that struck one brute, and the wolves ran off. In a few minutes they were back. John brandished a sharp stake he had found. The wolves drew off and sat on their haunches grinning hungrily at the trembling spaniel. John himself was terribly shaky in the knees, but he stood his ground and dared the wolves to come on. After a while they slunk off over the snow and disappeared in the woods.

  The Plantation was a little island of safety in the threatening wilderness. Outside its palisade lay the vast unknown, the threatening forest, the wolves, the lurking Indians, the daily battle with cold and hunger and danger. But bright or dim, the light of faith and courage burned steadily and unfailingly through the short gray days and long winter nights in the seven houses clustered on the hillside by Plymouth Harbor.

  How the Spring Came and How Samoset Came out of the Forest

  (March 1621)

  Spring comes slowly to New England, but the March sun rose higher in the south and filled the land with brightness. The sick rose from their beds, grew stronger daily, and set about their labors. Fifty-one survivors were slowly coming back to life.

  Little birds broke into song among the new leaves, the skunk cabbage and the jack-in-the-pulpit sprang greenly by the brook and the sound of spring thunder was heard. Women and children planted seeds in Plymouth gardens.

  On such a spring day, a hunter came with news. While he had been crouching in the bushes by the creekside to bag a brace of ducks, twelve Indians had passed by toward Plymouth. In the woods he had heard many more. Miles Standish and Francis Cooke had left their tools in the forest. When they returned, their axes were gone. They could see Indian smoke signals and, silhouetted against the sky on a hilltop, two Indians signaled to them to come. When Standish and Cooke crossed the brook and laid down their muskets in a sign of peace, the Indians disappeared.

  Captain Jones brought their five cannons ashore, three heavy pieces and two little “basses.” These were hauled lustily up the mount and stationed on the unfinished gun platform. The people of Plymouth felt a lot safer as they looked toward the Indian smoke signals rising behind Watson Hill.

  On March 26, 1621, the Plymouth Assembly was in morning session at the common house. Miles Standish had just been made officially their military commander.

  Suddenly the door to the assembly room was pushed open and a tall Indian boldly entered. Everyone jumped up. “Welcome, English,” he said. “Me Samoset.” Then he added coolly, “Me want beer.”

  For the first time the amazed Englishmen were looking at an American Indian face to face. They gave him a glass of brandy, cheese and crackers, and some roast duck. The room was now crowded with neighbors wanting to see the Indian.

  All afternoon Samoset answered questions in English—such as it was. He said that the English had settled on the lands of the Patuxet Indians; and that this tribe had been wiped out by the plague four years before.

  Samoset disclosed that the Indians who had
attacked the exploring expedition at The First Encounter were the Nausites. Eight months before, this tribe had killed three Englishmen in a fight with Sir Fernando Gorges’ party. The Nausites hated the English because a shipmaster named Hunt had kidnaped a number of their people under pretext of bartering with them. Hunt had then sold them into slavery in Spain.

  Samoset himself had learned English from the fishermen who came each year to fish off the banks, and he knew their captains by name. He told the names, numbers, and chief’s of neighboring tribes. The Elders were suspicious of Samoset as an overnight guest. However, he did not want to leave, so he was lodged at Stephen Hopkins’ house where he slept peacefully on the bare floor.

  Next morning, after giving Samoset a knife, a bracelet, and a ring, the Elders bade him farewell. They rejoiced that at last they had made an intelligent and valuable friend, and that great good must come of it.

  Of the Visit of That Great Chief, Massasoit, and of the Lasting Peace and Friendship That Was Made Between Them

  Next day (March 28th) was the Lord’s Day in Plymouth. That afternoon Samoset strode down the Street with five tall Indians behind him. They wore deerskin cloaks and leggings of the same material. In their black hair were eagle feathers and fox tails and their faces were painted black. They had left their bows and arrows outside the palisade. With them they brought the tools that Miles Standish had left in the forest. The braves ate very heartily of what the Elders provided and in return danced and sang for the amazed Pilgrims.

  The Indians had come to barter, but Mr. Brewster explained that it was not the Pilgrims’ custom on the Lord’s Day. If the Indians would come again, with many beaver skins, the Plymouth folk would be glad to trade. So they gave the Indians bright trinkets and sent them back to the forest with an armed escort.

  March 31st was a special day in the Plantation because the storm-damaged shallop was repaired and Captain Jones brought to land the last boatload of passengers from the Mayflower. It had been just three months since the first Pilgrims had landed.

  A few days later Samoset again appeared at the door of the meeting house. He brought with him his friend Tisquantum, or Squanto. He was the last of the Patuxets and spoke English. He had been taken captive by Hunt and sold in Spain. Later, Squanto had lived in England and had finally come home to the tragic scene where the last of his people had perished.

  After introducing Squanto, Samoset announced that the great Chief Massasoit and his brother Quadequina, with sixty warriors, were waiting on a nearby hilltop to council with the English.

  Edward Winslow was sent with presents of food and brandy to greet them. He told the Chief that King James saluted Massasoit as his friend and ally, and that Governor Carver wished to make peace and to barter with the great Chief, his neighbor. Winslow invited him to come to their Plantation.

  Captain Standish and a guard of musketeers met Chief Massasoit and his twenty braves at the town brook and escorted him to an unfinished house. Here Massasoit was seated in state on a green rug and colored cushions. Governor Carver now came to meet him followed by a drummer and trumpeter playing bravely. The rest of the Plymouth musketeers completed the parade.

  The Chief was a superb figure of a man. His grave countenance was painted vermilion and his scalp lock decorated with feathers. The bodies of his warriors were painted with ceremonial decorations in black, red, white, and yellow.

  Carver solemnly bent to kiss the Indian Chief’s hand. When they all sat down, Massasoit was presented with a mug of brandy. As the fiery liquid went down the Chief’s throat, he shuddered and later broke into a sweat.

  Point by point Samoset translated for Massasoit the seven articles of the peace treaty and mutual alliance. The words danced dizzily through the fumes of the Dutch brandy in the Chief’s befuddled brain.

  In effect the treaty stated that:

  There should be no aggression against each other.

  Indians who damaged the English were to be turned over for punishment.

  Stolen goods were to be returned. This was to apply to both Indians and English.

  Each party would help the other in case either was attacked.

  Massasoit should notify neighboring tribes of the defense pact and invite them to join.

  Each party when visiting the other would leave his weapons behind.

  Under these conditions King James would esteem Massasoit his friend and ally.

  After Massasoit had somewhat shakily put his mark to the treaty, there was good-humored visiting. The Chief was much impressed with the Governor’s trumpet and his warriors tried in vain to make it speak. On the Chief’s departure, Governor Carver in person escorted him to the brook.

  During the meeting, Winslow had remained with the Indians on the hill as a hostage. In like manner, the English had kept half a dozen braves.

  Quadequina, the Chief’s brother, now came down to Plymouth to be entertained. That night the English kept close watch just to see if the peace would really stick. But as the days passed and their woodsmen and hunters came back unharmed from the forest, they were certain that the Chief would keep faith. This treaty stood unbroken for fifty years.

  A few days later Squanto created a sensation by bringing to Plymouth a mess of fat eels, which he had procured by treading them out of the mud with his feet. This trick he willingly taught the younger members of the colony, who soon became his friends and admirers. Squanto led them to the best fishing grounds and clam beds, showed them how to plant a fat herring in each corn hill to make the stalks grow tall and bear full golden ears, how to make snares and traps, where the deer herds browsed, and where the fat turkeys fed among the berry bushes.

  Part 3

  New England Adventure

  (1621-1623)

  The Return of the Mayflower

  (March–April 1621)

  Through the winter, the weather-beaten Mayflower had served as a base while the Pilgrims worked ashore on their houses and shelters. When the common house burned, the ship was a refuge for the homeless. In the first sickness, it had served as a hospital. In case of Indian attack, they looked to it for safety.

  Now April was at hand and the surviving sailors were strong enough to work the ship on her long voyage back to England. With the Mayflower gone, the little settlement would be left without this island of safety, this last link to home.

  A cannon shot from the ship sounded across the Harbor. It was the signal for the ship’s departure. Fifty-one gaunt men, women, and children crowded to the shore where the ship’s longboat waited. Captain Jones said the wind and tide were right. The hour had come to sail. For the last time, he offered to take aboard any who wished to return. No one answered. For many months, the Captain had lived with these people and had learned the stuff they were made of. He was not surprised. He put their letters and packages in his leather bag. Bidding them all farewell, he returned to the ship.

  Those left behind stood in silent little groups at the water’s edge, their gaze fixed on the bright speck of sail fading on the horizon. At this moment their hearts were in old England in the sweet springtime.

  As the Mayflower disappeared, they turned back to the rugged New England hillside. Each one knew that a greater gulf than the Atlantic separated them forever from the past.

  All through that spring, both men and women worked daily in the fields and woods from dawn to dusk. Even their Governor Carver did the same hard labor as the rest. On a warm April day, while working in the fields, he was taken suddenly ill and lost consciousness. In a few days he died.

  The colonists met and chose William Bradford for Governor. Bradford bravely took up the task and did his work well. For nearly thirty-five years he served as Governor of New Plymouth. On his shoulders now rested the success of the colony. He made the rules, administered justice, divided the common store of provisions, and each year allotted shares of the common land to each of the families. He also supervised the Indian trade and dealt with strangers according to their deserts. Because Bradford was
still weak from the first sickness, Mr. Allerton was chosen as his assistant.

  How Mr. Winslow Brought a Scarlet Coat to Massasoit and of Their Strange Entertainment by That Great Sagamore

  (July 1621)

  Mrs. Hopkins was bending over the open fireplace. She was extracting a corn pudding from the pot that hung over the fire. This New England dish, which she herself had invented, was made of Indian corn and deer fat, with whatever seasoning happened to be at hand.

  An uneasy feeling caused her to look round suddenly. “Wahoooo!” she yelled, dropping the pudding in the ashes. In the room stood a tall, half-naked Indian making the peace sign. Behind him was a black-eyed woman and two very naked little boys. The Indian grinned, making friendly gestures.

  “Lord, I never can get used to ’em,” Mrs. Hopkins said, shaking her head, but making a kindly sign toward her visitors. “The way they creep up on you without making a sound! It’s enough to scare the life out of a body. Thank the Lord they don’t mean no harm.”

  The Indians were examining everything in the room. Mrs. Hopkins rescued the corn pudding from the ashes. “Here, taste this and begone,” she said, as she distributed slices of the pudding to her visitors and shooed them laughingly out of the door. “I’ve no time to waste this morning.”

  Little by little, the people of Plymouth were getting used to such visits. Singly or in groups, Indian visitors came out of the forest. Sometimes a dozen at a time came with their women, children, and dogs. They arrived at all hours of the day to sit and talk, to trade, to smoke and eat. The English had little food or time to spare, and the Indians expected to be fed and entertained. These amiable visitors often interrupted work or wasted time, and sometimes became pests and nuisances.