CHAPTER XXX THE PILGRIMS OF PLYMOUTH
Since being separated from Massasoit years before in Plymouth harbor, Tasquanto, whose name the English had shortened to "Squanto," had known nothing of the fate of his fellow-captive beyond that he had been sold as a slave in London. In the mean time he had been received into the household of Sir Ferdinando Gorges, Governor of Plymouth, who had large interests in the New World, and had been taught to speak English. Then he was sent on trading-vessels to act as interpreter between whites and Indians. In this capacity he had made several voyages to America, but always so closely guarded that never until now had he been allowed to set foot on his native shores.
Tasquanto was so overcome at finding in the great sachem Massasoit, concerning whom he had heard much, his own long-lost friend that for a few moments he was speechless with joyful amazement. When he had succeeded in partially expressing this, he related briefly how he happened to be in his present situation, and added that the cruel taskmaster from whom he had just escaped was the same Captain Dermer who had formerly betrayed them into slavery.
"I knew it when first I saw him this morning," replied Massasoit, grimly, "for his evil face has ever been pictured in my heart. For that reason have I spared his worthless life until I could consult with thee, my brother, as to how we may best deal with him."
"Did you, then, know me also?" asked Tasquanto.
"The moment I set eyes on thee. Those white dogs had been slain an hour sooner but for thy presence among them and a fear of doing thee harm. Now, what say you? Shall this man be delivered to the tormentors, or shall he be killed where he lies? It is certain that his punishment must be great, for he has earned all that may be given. Also I do not care that he should recognize me and spread the report that I was once his slave, for that would shame me in the eyes of my people. Thou, too, must ever keep secret the matter of my having crossed the salt waters."
"I will remember," replied Tasquanto. "As for this white man, I would crop his ears with the same brand of ownership that he has placed upon many an Indian captured and sold into slavery. Then would I let him sail away in his own ship as a warning to all other white men. Death he deserves, since he has treated many of our people to death and worse, but to him the shame of cropped ears will be even more bitter than death."
So favorably was Massasoit impressed with this idea that he ordered it carried out at once. Thus, half an hour later, the brutal Dermer, who had done so much to cause the name of Englishman to be hated in the New World, was set adrift in a canoe, minus both his ears, and allowed to depart to his own ship. It is recorded in history that he reached Virginia, where he soon afterwards died from wounds received at the hands of New England savages.
Having thus satisfactorily concluded one part of his undertaking, Massasoit next turned his attention to the rebel Narragansetts. Moving his entire force against their stronghold, he demanded that all goods received from the English should be delivered up, and also that Miantinomo should come to his camp, bringing a chief's belt in token of submission. Massasoit swore that, in case his demands were refused, he would not depart from that place until every rebel in the fort was destroyed. So mild were these terms in comparison with what had been expected that they were instantly accepted, and a cruel war between neighbors was averted.
With peace thus restored, the authority of Massasoit over the great territory, already named New England by Captain John Smith, was so firmly established that until the day of his death it was never again questioned.
But if one of his two chief causes for anxiety was thus removed, the other was looming ominously near. Some six months after Tasquanto's escape from his long captivity a little English ship, buffeted by winter gales of the North Atlantic, was slowly approaching the American coast. Although only of one hundred and fifty tons' burden, or about the size of a small coasting schooner of to-day, she carried one hundred passengers besides her crew and an immense quantity of freight.
For three months had her passengers—men, women, and children—been on board the overcrowded little craft, and they were sick for a sight of land. Their destination was the mouth of the Shatemuc or Hudson River, but their first landfall, made under a cold December sky, was the bluff headland, stretching far out to sea like a beckoning finger, that Gosnold, some twenty years earlier, had named the Cape of Cods. From here the ship was headed southward towards her destination, but soon became involved in a labyrinth of shoals covered with roaring breakers. Also she was beaten by adverse gales until her weary company hailed with joy her captain's decision to run back to the safe shelter of Cape Cod. Here, in what is now the harbor of Provincetown, the sea-worn strangers disembarked, so profoundly happy at finding themselves once more on land that the wooded wilderness seemed a paradise.
They had come to establish homes in the New World, and though disappointed at not gaining the more southerly latitude for which they had set out, they now determined to remain where they were, since it was too late in the season for further explorations. Still, they spent two weeks in examination of the country close at hand, and finally selected a site for settlement across the bay enclosed by Cape Cod. Here was a good harbor, plenty of fresh water, and much land already cleared of forest growth by its former Indian occupants.
They named this place "Plymouth" after the last English port from which they had sailed, and on Christmas day began the work of building houses.
During that winter half of these stout-hearted settlers died, so that in the early spring only fifty persons, enfeebled by the sickness from which but seven had wholly escaped, remained to make good their claim to the land they had thus seized.
During all this time the colonists had not encountered any of the native owners of the soil, though they had caught occasional glimpses of vanishing forms, and often saw signal-fires or smokes that denoted the presence of watchful observers.
In spite of these things they did not hesitate to appropriate Indian property wherever they found it. Thus, when they discovered hidden stores of corn and parched acorns, laid by for winter use, they promptly removed them to Plymouth. Also whenever they ran across an Indian lodge, they took from it everything that seemed to them of value. They even robbed Indian graves of their sacred relics, and these things were reported to Massasoit by his scouts.
From the first appearance of the Mayflower on the stormy horizon he had known of all its movements. He had been relieved when it started southward, and was greatly disturbed by its return to Cape Cod. He was also much puzzled to account for the doings of its company, since evidently they were neither traders nor fishermen. Why had they brought women and children with them? Also why had they in the first place attempted to sail to the southward, if his country was the place they were seeking? He finally decided that they must be bound for the Virginia settlement of white men, and were only waiting until the winter storms were over before resuming their voyage to the country of Powhatan.
This decision eased Massasoit's mind, for, while he was determined that no whites should settle within his boundaries, he was also averse to unnecessary bloodshed. So he awaited patiently the departure that he believed the strangers would make with the coming of warmer weather. If they did not so depart, he knew that he could wipe them out of existence as easily as he could crush a worm that came in his path.
Thus forbearing to disturb them, he waited and watched, receiving almost daily reports from his scouts, who at all times lurked in the vicinity of the feeble settlement. He heard with grim satisfaction of their rapid decrease in numbers, and grew wroth at their violation of Indian graves and their appropriation of unguarded Indian property. Still he forbore to molest them, but as spring drew near he sent Samoset to learn how soon they intended to depart.
To his dismay this messenger brought back word that the English had no intention of ever again leaving the place where they had established themselves.
"Then must I remind them that I have no desire for their presence," quoth Massasoit, and at once he sent out runners to gather a large force of warriors in the vicinity of Plymouth. Accompanied by a body-guard of sixty men, the sachem himself hastened to the place of rendezvous and established a camp, from which he sent Tasquanto among the whites to learn in detail their strength and intentions.
With his ready command of English and his knowledge of white men's customs, gained by painful experience, Tasquanto or "Squanto," as he now called himself, found no difficulty in gaining all the information he desired from the strangers. He even learned their names and the relative rank held by their leading men.
When Tasquanto returned and reported these things, he mentioned one name that caused Massasoit to start and betray symptoms of great agitation.
"Art thou certain that one among them is so called?" he asked.
"I am certain," replied Tasquanto.
"Then go quickly and ask that man, as he values his own life and that of his people, to meet me alone by the big pine that looks down upon his lodges. I will be there unaccompanied. Stay! Take to him this belt that it may be to him a token of safe-conduct and true speaking."
With this Massasoit removed from his own person the great Belt of Seven Totems and handed it to Tasquanto. He also instructed the latter to withdraw beyond earshot when he had conducted the white man to the place of meeting.
Half an hour later Massasoit, with unpainted face and simply clad, stood alone at the foot of the great pine, looking down on the group of poor little huts that sheltered the feeble English remnant. Within a mile of the place were gathered five hundred warriors awaiting but a signal from him to utterly destroy the helpless settlement.
Then to him came an Englishman, young, sturdy, and heavily bearded. As he approached within a few paces he halted and examined the Indian curiously, for he had been told that he was to meet a sachem who was ruler of many tribes.
On the other hand, Massasoit gazed into the bearded face of the white man with an eagerness that was almost disconcerting. Then, as though satisfied with his scrutiny, he extended a hand, exclaiming as he did so,—
"Winslow! My frien' Winslow!"
For a moment the other hesitated, then his face lighted joyously as he grasped the proffered hand in both of his, crying,—
"Massasoit? They told me the name of the mighty chieftain was Massasoit, but never did I suspect that he was the friend whom I had found and lost in London."
For an hour the two, thus strangely brought together after years of distant wanderings, held converse with each other while the fate of the New World hung upon their words. When their conversation was finally ended, Winslow had promised never to reveal the fact that the proud sachem had once been bought and sold as a slave in England. He had also promised that the colony to which he belonged should never commit an act of aggression against the people of Massasoit, but that his friends should be their friends and his enemies their enemies.
On his part, and out of an abounding gratitude for the only friendship shown him at a time when he stood most in need of friends, Massasoit agreed that the poor little English settlement should be allowed to exist, and, moreover, promised to protect it from its enemies to the full extent of his power.
Then the two parted, the one to go back to his wondering warriors and dismiss them to their homes, the other to carry the glad news into Plymouth that the great Massasoit was ready to make a treaty of friendly alliance with his English neighbors.
So on the morrow Governor Carver, accompanied by Winslow, sturdy Myles Standish, and others of his principal men, met Massasoit. Then, after much feasting and an exchange of courtesies, they mutually signed a treaty of friendship that remained unbroken for upward of half a century from that memorable date.
Thus was the crumb of bread once cast upon troubled waters by Edward Winslow returned to him again with a thousand-fold of increase after many days.
Thus also did Nahma, son of Longfeather, now become Massasoit, wearer of the Belt of Seven Totems, make possible and establish forever the white man's settlement of New England.
* * * * * *
N. B. When the good ship Mayflower returned to England from that her most memorable voyage to the New World she bore in her cargo a packet of richest furs, together with many specimens of dainty beadwork, consigned to Lady Betty Effingham, who dwelt near to Bristol, England, with goodly wishes from her friend and humble servant, Massasoit.
Transcriber's Note:
Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.