Soldier Rigdale: How He Sailed in the Mayflower and How He Served Miles Standish

by Beulah Marie Dix

The third day Massasoit presented himself, with ninety hungry warriors, whereat not only Mistress Hopkins but cheerful Priscilla Mullins was in despair. But his Majesty did his part in supplying provisions, for next morning some of his men went into the forest and returned with five fat deer, which he bestowed, as seemed to Miles most fitting, on the Captain and the Governor. They were, however, roasted for the behoof of the whole company, and on the last day of the feast, after the Captain had drilled his little troop before the King to do him honor, the Plymouth people and their guests ate of good venison.

The tables were spread in the fields, and Miles held it a notable distinction that he and Giles were bidden by the Captain wait at the one where he sat, with Massasoit and the Governor and others of the chiefs of the red men and white. Miles carried the platters of meat thither, with all the decorum of which he was master, and hoped that Standish might throw a word to him, so his happiness was final when, on his last trip to the table, the Captain called him to his side. He was sitting at the left hand of the Governor, where the light from the afternoon sun struck athwart his face, and over opposite him sat King Massasoit, greasy as ever, but now monarch-like in a great robe of skins.

It was to him that Standish spoke, in words of the Indian tongue of which Miles caught only one or two. But the Captain answered his questioning look: "His Majesty was pleased to crave a sight of you, Miles. Truth, you put him to stir enough last July. It was he who, when he got tidings from Manomet, despatched the order thither that no hurt should be done you, and sent us word where to seek you."

"Did he do so much, sir?" Miles asked, and, gazing at the stolid Indian, made him a grateful bow. "I should like to tell him 'thank you,'" he added. "If Squanto would say it for me,—or you."

Then he tramped back again to the fire to take his own share of the feast, a large turkey leg which Constance had saved for him, and, whether it were overmuch turkey or overmuch labor, he was too tired even to rise and witness the departure of the Indians after the board was cleared, for all he knew the musketeers would fire them a parting volley. 'Twas toilsome work, this merrymaking, he agreed with Priscilla, and, going weary and cross to bed, he was glad to awake to the Sabbath quiet of the little village, and, on the ensuing morning, drop once more into the ordered round of duties.

There was naught to do in the following days but to make ready against the coming winter, by mending the cottages till every crevice was secure, and fetching good supply of firewood from the distant hills. A hint of wintry weather now was in the chill air and the lead-colored sky, so, one November afternoon, Miles spent hours in hunting for his mittens that had gone astray.

Together he and Constance and Giles opened, in the search, the little chest that had been Goodman Rigdale's; it gave Miles a dull pang to turn over the clothes his father and mother had worn, but somehow all that sorrow seemed to have fallen very long ago. "Yet 'tis not a year since we sailed into the harbor," he said softly.

"Just a year to-morrow since we sighted Cape Cod," answered Giles, and Constance changed Miles's thoughts by adding: "The other ship with our fresh supply should come now very speedily; in about a month I heard father say we might look for her. I hope there'll be cattle come in her; 'tis hard for the babies to have not a drop of milk."

"And no butter," sighed Miles, thinking of himself. "And if they bring oxen, 'twill be easier ploughing, come spring; and there'll be more men to fight—"

"There'll be two more next spring, in any case," Giles interrupted. "Captain Standish says that then Bart Allerton and I shall have muskets of our own and be enrolled in his company."