The Landing of the Pilgrims (10 page)

Captain Standish suddenly realized that these were the same Indians who had attacked them at the place of the First Encounter.

“Stand ready to fire,” he ordered. Then, turning to Squanto, the Captain went on: “Squanto, tell them that only the Indians whose corn we have taken may come aboard.”

Squanto explained to the two tall warriors who came aboard that the English wished to pay them for their corn. They would bring them the corn or the Indians could come to Patuxet (Plymouth) for it. The braves said they would like to come to Patuxet.

More Indians surrounded the shallop. Aspinet with fifty unarmed warriors had now joined them and behind him were fifty more waiting with their arrows on their bow strings. At this moment John Billington, Junior, arrived on the scene, perched triumphantly on the shoulders of a huge Indian. He was decked in feathers and necklaces of wampum and was having a wonderful time.

The boy was restored to his father. The Indian who had taken charge of him while he was a captive among them was given a knife. A few trinkets to Aspinet restored peace.

Sitting about the campfire, the boy told of his adventures among the Indians. He had had a good
time with the Indian children and was well treated. He would be the hero of the hour in Plymouth when they returned. No wonder he was so pleased with himself!

Squanto returned to camp from the Nausets with alarming news. He had heard that the terrible Narragansetts were on the war path. Massasoit had been captured and some of his people killed. Plymouth was in danger, with only twenty-two men to defend her. Standish decided to return to the threatened settlement at once, for it was a forty-eight-hour journey by sea. The wind was contrary but they started back without further delay. After a rough voyage they came to Plymouth at last and found all things well.

An Indian named Hobomok came running in from the woods with more alarming news. He and Squanto had gone in search of their Chief, Massasoit. They learned that he had been betrayed by one of his sachems, named Corbitant. This Indian was stirring up Massasoit’s own people in revolt against him, and was speaking against the English.

Corbitant had taken Hobomok and Squanto prisoner, but Hobomok had managed to escape. The last he had seen of Squanto, he was being threatened by Corbitant with his knife. Corbitant had said that if Squanto were dead, the English would lose their tongue. Hobomok was sure that by this time Squanto had been killed.

Captain Standish determined this insolence
must be punished at once. If Squanto were dead, he must be avenged. At the head of his army of ten musketeers, Standish started out for Corbitant’s village.

All day Standish and his men marched in the rain. At nightfall, Hobomok said they were approaching the Indian village. They halted for supper, left their heavy knapsacks behind, and advanced stealthily through the darkness.

Pressing on, they surrounded the village. Standish burst into Corbitant’s lodge with his drawn sword, shouting, “Let no one move till we have taken Corbitant.”

Several Indians who attempted escape were wounded in the scuffle. The soldiers fired their muskets. The whole town was in an uproar. The Indian women surrounded Hobomok and hung on his neck, seeking protection and calling him “towam,” or friend. Seeing that the women were being spared, the Indian boys began crying out that they were girls.

Captain Standish was told that Squanto was still alive. He ordered the campfires to be lighted and the lodges searched. Hobomok climbed atop a lodge and began calling for Squanto. He suddenly appeared in the circle of firelight. All the Indians then were disarmed.

In the morning it was found that Corbitant and his warriors were not there. The Indians were told that the English intended to destroy only Corbitant
and would punish any who should attack Squanto or Massasoit.

The party then marched home with Squanto. Several friendly Indians followed with the baggage. Three wounded Indians were brought back with them for treatment.

“So that, by God’s good Providence, we safely returned home, the morrow night after we set forth.”

It had been a wild night of shouting and drawn swords and the gleam of armor against the darkness of the forest. Fortunately no one had been seriously hurt. Although Corbitant had not been captured or punished, the power of the fiery little Captain and his army had struck terror into the hearts of the Indians.

(November 1621)

It was almost a year to a day from the time that the
Mayflower
had anchored in Cape Cod Bay. Seven houses stood on the hillside overlooking Plymouth Harbor and more were being built. The common storehouse was full of corn. The Pilgrims had fought starvation and won. No Indian attacks had been made on them from the threatening forests. By God’s grace the savages were their friends.

For all this there was a price. Half of their company lay in unmarked graves. Each day they must labor, and watch by night against hunger and danger. Each day for a year, their tired eyes had watched the naked horizon and never a sail had come to bring them the promised supplies. Had they been utterly forgotten? Was there still an England?

Suddenly a cannon shot signaled the workers in from the woods and clearings. A sail on the horizon! Soon an English ship had anchored in the harbor. All Plymouth was at the water’s edge to greet the men who stepped from the longboat. Their friend, Mr. Cushman, had come in the ship
Fortune
, bringing thirty-five lusty young men. Some were members of the Leyden Church; all were good workers for the fields, and soldiers for defense. They were given welcome and then eager attention as they told news of home and friends.

Mr. Cushman delivered his letters to the Governor. It appeared that the
Fortune
had brought no supplies, not so much as a barrel of flour. The letter from the merchant Adventurers was full of reproaches. The
Mayflower
had been sent back empty to England. The company would lose money.

“I know your weakness was the cause of it, and I believe more weakness of judgemente, than weakness of hands,” said the letter. The
Fortune
must bring back a profitable cargo or the Adventurers might not invest further in Plymouth Plantation. A new contract was enclosed for the signatures of the colonists. In it they practically bound themselves to slavery to the Adventurers for seven years. Reluctantly they signed it.

In two weeks the
Fortune
sailed for England with a cargo of clapboard and two hogsheads of beaver
skins. This fur was unknown in England and had been first brought to Plymouth by Squanto.

As the
Fortune’s
sails faded on the horizon, the colonists turned back to their labor. It seemed that the
Fortune
was a name that mocked their hopes of supply and comfort from England.

An Indian runner had brought the strange token and departed as silently as he had come. The snake skin with its black and brown patterns lay on the table like an evil thing. The light glistened on its shining scales and six arrows protruded from its gaping mouth. The thing had some meaning that boded no good. It had been sent to the Pilgrims by Canonicus, Chief of the Narragansetts.

At once Bradford sent for Squanto, Winslow, Brewster, Allerton, and Standish. Squanto told them that the snake skin meant that Canonicus planned war upon them. It was a message of defiance. The Elders debated whether to ask for peace or answer in kind.

Brewster contended they should send a message saying, “We would wish to have peace but if you want war, we are ready.”

“Perhaps he will better understand this,” said Bradford, snatching the arrows from the rattlesnake skin and filling it with powder and shot.

When the rattlesnake skin was returned to Canonicus he refused to accept or even touch it. He ordered it out of his sight, out of the village, out of his domain.

“It is the terrible medicine with which the English destroy our people and take from us the lands of our fathers,” cried the terrified chieftain.

The snake skin was refused by one awed chieftain after another until it was finally returned to Plymouth.

In the spring rain and summer sun, the green stalks of the Indian corn grew tall. The firm ears became full and heavy, two and three on each stalk. The corn silk turned brown on the end of each ear and every tall stalk waved its feathery tassels like an Indian chief. Under Squanto’s guidance, the Pilgrims hoed and tended the corn hills through the hot summer days. Health and strength came back to the invalids and no one was sick.

The Bay teemed with shad, cod, mackerel, and herring. Squanto showed the Pilgrims how to take lobsters and eels. He led them to where oyster and clam beds were most abundant. When the summer was done, the hard golden ears of corn were reaped and stored.

Now there was time to hunt in the forest. Flocks of fat wild turkeys trooped in the underbrush, and
along the streams and marshes huge flocks of geese and ducks prepared for their southward flight. The black bears ambled under the oak trees seeking acorns, and the deer browsed on the southern slopes among the birch and pine trees.

In a single day the hunters killed enough turkeys to last for a week. Gratefully they gathered on Sabbath days and sang praise to God for his goodness and mercy to the children of men.

Now the forests were turning to the autumn splendor of red and gold. It was a time for a celebration, for a feast of rejoicing, for a day of Thanksgiving.

The twelve women of New Plymouth began great preparations. From the kitchens came the savory smell of roasting geese and turkey. An abundance of corn bread and hasty pudding was being prepared. Stewed eels, boiled lobsters, and juicy clam stews simmered over the fires.

Before the feast, Squanto was sent with an invitation to Massasoit and his chiefs. On the appointed day, the Chief appeared with ninety tall warriors. For a moment there was consternation among the cooks. They were not prepared to feed ninety extra guests, but Massasoit took care of the difficulty by sending his hunters into the forest. They returned with five deer. The feast now became a barbecue with juicy cuts of roast venison for all.

There were shooting contests with bows and
guns. The Plymouth Musketeers under their Captain, Miles Standish, put on a drill with drums and trumpets. In return the Indians performed their tribal dances and chants for the amazed English. Everyone relaxed. There was laughter and clowning. The Indians were in no hurry to go home as long as the food held out, and the holiday-making carried on for three days. Squanto and Samoset translated long speeches of friendship and good will. White men and red would keep the peace as long as the sun shone and the grass grew.

There would be lean times and hard work aplenty in the days ahead, but it was a goodly country. Though the English still were strangers in it, this was for them the Promised Land.

After the Thanksgiving feast, Plymouth settled down to its second winter. Daily Governor Bradford parceled out to each one a ration of corn from the common store. Because there were thirty-five newcomers to feed, he had to cut the corn rations to half of what had been planned at harvest time. When snow came, the hunters found no game in the bare woods. Each day the Governor sent the axmen to the forest to cut wood for the fires that must be kept burning in Plymouth against the bitter cold.