"This I will do," said the Governor, and forthwith dispatched a messenger to the Sachem's residence, who arrived only to find that everything was in its accustomed condition of peace and tranquility. He consequently told Massasoit of the reports circulated against him, which enraged the good Sachem tremendously and caused him to utter many uncomplimentary remarks about Squanto, whom—it was understood—had instigated the action of the Indian out of a spirit of malicious mischief. "Let me but catch this Squanto," shouted Massasoit, "and I will teach him not to meddle with my own private affairs. But go tell the Governor of Plymouth," he continued, "that I am glad to hear that he himself has not believed the idle talk of this lying Indian. Tell him that, if any conspiracy against him ever does take place, I myself will be the first to send him word of it." And with these declarations of strict friendship and integrity ringing in his ears, the messenger returned to Plymouth and quickly quieted the fears of the waiting Colonists.
Squanto died in November on an expedition fitted out by Governor Bradford for obtaining corn from the Indians, and so perished the last aboriginal of the Plymouth soil. He had been serviceable to the English, but quite anxious to have credit for that fact among his own countrymen, and on one occasion amused himself by telling his own people that the whites kept the plague pent up in their cellars, and that they intended to make war upon various tribes. This was done in order that they would employ him to mediate between them and the English for a certain sum, and, of course, when so hired, he always succeeded in settling the difficulty.
As for Massasoit, his friendship for the English continued, for no attacks were made upon the settlement during the entire winter. Early in the spring of that year (1623), a runner came in from his settlement bearing the news that the great Sachem lay dangerously ill at Sowams, and begged that someone who had medical knowledge would come to his assistance: a fact which showed that he put great faith in the superior intellect and attainments of the English. So Edward Winslow was sent to visit him, as a token of the friendship of the Colonists, and he was accompanied by another English gentleman—a Mr. John Hampden—who had some knowledge of medicine—who brought with him some cordials and other alcoholic beverages.
The two Englishmen had gone but a short journey, when an Indian met them who had tears in his eyes. "Massasoit is dead," said he. "The great chief has gone to the happy hunting grounds." At this, the Indian guide named Hobbammak, whom they had with them as guide and interpreter, began to wail a death song. "O Great Sachem, O Great Heart, with many have I been acquainted," he cried, "but none ever equaled him. His like, oh, Master Winslow, you shall never see again, for he was not false, bloody, and unpeaceable like other Indians, but kind, easily appeased when angry, and most reasonable in his requirements. He was a wise Sachem, not ashamed to ask advice, and governed better with mild measures than other chiefs did with severe ones. I fear, now that he is dead, that you have not one faithful friend left in the wigwams of the red men."
"Time presses, Hobbammak," said Winslow. "Leave off wringing your hands and your loud lamentations. We must trudge along, and hasten to the tepee of Massasoit, for he may not now be dead and these stories may be false."
So saying, they hastened on through the forest and soon came to a village of a sub-chief called Corbetant, who was not at home. But his squaw came running to meet the white men, crying: "Hasten, hasten, Massasoit is not yet dead, but if you run quickly you will arrive in time to breathe a prayer over his body."
The two Englishmen redoubled their speed, and soon arrived at Massasoit's village, where they found the great Sachem's house so full of his followers that they could scarcely get inside. The Indians were making a "fiendish noise," while about the prostrate body of the chief were six or eight women who chafed his arms, legs, and thighs to keep the heat in them. But—seeing Winslow and Hampden in the doorway—one of them cried out, "The English have come, O chief. Here are two of the white men!"
Massasoit endeavored to look in their direction, but his sight was wholly gone and he could see nothing.
"Who has come?" said he.
"Winsnow has come," said one of the Indians, who called the Englishman by the name he was known by among the Wampanoags.