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

by Beulah Marie Dix

Without warning, other than a small catching of the breath, Miles sprang to his feet and struck the speaker in the face. Francis, thoroughly surprised, hit back, and, clenching, they pitched over among the crackling sticks. Miles fell uppermost, and, hardly realizing how or why, he was pommelling Francis lustily, when a mighty hand heaved him up by the scruff of the neck. "You must not strike a man when he is already worsted," spoke the voice of long-legged John Alden.

Miles stood biting his lips that twitched. "'A' shall not say—" he began, and there his voice broke. "Oh, I wish he could flog me again!"

Alden stared a moment, then, with sudden understanding, swung round upon the whimpering Francis and rated him mightily, while Miles, glad not to be noticed, caught up his bundle of wood and stumbled away toward the settlement.

Yet this was the last outward showing of the boy's grief. Little by little, as the busy days came, he found himself fitting into his new life, and at length even taking a certain zest in it. For he was now man of the family, and the cares he felt called on to shoulder did not a little to distract him from any sorry broodings. He must work with his full strength, wherever they sent him and whoever bade him; he must keep flibbertigibbet Dolly out of mischief; above all, he must run after his mother, as she went about to nurse the many sick of the settlement, and see to it that she did not catch cold or come to any harm.

The greatest and most important labor, however, he did in the earlier days of his loss, when he went to fetch his father's goods from the Mayflower. Others might have said the work was done by Ned Lister, for Master Hopkins, who had promised Goodman Rigdale to look to his family, so far as he was able, sent him about this task; but Miles, who was sure he was the leader and Ned only the assistant, felt the whole expedition a tribute to his own new-come manliness.

They went out in the shallop to the Mayflower on a morning so bright and open that it scarcely recalled to Miles his coming from the ship. Once aboard, to be sure, the half-homesick pang laid hold on him, when he scrambled down to the little cabin that had sheltered him so long; but there was so much to do he soon cast it off. The bedding must be tied up securely, and the pots and platters loaded into the biggest kettle; and Ned, who had a coughing fit and said he didn't feel very well, let Miles do it all. He recovered, however, in time to help drag the stuff to the deck, and to get up from the orlop a small chest of Goodman Rigdale's; and he was also selfish enough to take charge himself of the loud, manly labor of transferring the goods to the shallop.

Somewhat disappointed, Miles clambered down again to the cabin to fetch the box with Dolly's Indian basket, and, when he came back, the shallop was so near ready to push off that he had only time to drop into the bow beside Lister. Glancing round the great sail toward the stern, where such other passengers as were going from the ship were placed, he caught sight of Captain Standish, who sat stiffly, with one arm about the muffled figure of a woman. "Yon is Mistress Standish, is it not?" Miles questioned Lister, very softly.

His companion nodded. "Set to come ashore, poor lass!" he answered, in the same low tone. "'Tis the last trip she'll ever make in the shallop." This Ned spoke sympathetically; then had no further leisure to talk for settling himself comfortably with his back against Goodman Rigdale's bedding.

Miles moved a little to give Ned room, but, without heeding him, continued to gaze at Captain Standish and Mistress Rose. He could not see her face for the hood about her head and the cloak drawn up above her chin, but he marked the listless droop of her whole body; and he noted, too, how the Captain sat with his eyes looking straight out and his mouth hard. Miles wondered if what Lister said of Mistress Standish were true, and, what with wondering and watching, was taken by surprise and nearly overset when the shallop bumped up to the landing place.

For a moment he lingered by the boat, feigning to busy himself with unlading the kettle, while he watched Mistress Standish. The Captain and Alden, who was waiting at the landing, helped her from the boat, and half carried her away between them up the hill. The Captain's face was still so grave and stern, that Miles was a trifle frightened, and very sorry; he wished he were a man like John Alden, so he could have spoken to the Captain and helped Mistress Standish.