Who were with grace and learning fully fraught.
Morton's New England's Memorial.
The ancient town of Plymouth has probably about as much resemblance to what it was two hundred years ago, as an ante-diluvian at a like age had to his boyhood. Were Governor Bradford, whose worth is more quaintly than poetically delineated in the above lines, Captain Miles Standish, Master Thomas Prince, or any other worthies of those days of peaked hats and falling bands to revisit the scenes of their pilgrim labors, I fancy that they would find it difficult at first to recognize them. By the eternal features, only, of nature, the sparkling waters of the bay, the waving line of its shore, and by the eminences not wholly levelled, would the site be identified, and the likeness traced. Only with memory, assisted by these marks, might they be able, as the moonbeams fell upon their pale faces, and they stroked their solemn beards, to exclaim—here stood our Plymouth.
As it presented itself that day to the eyes of Sir Christopher Gardiner, surrounded by his Indian escort, it seemed an inconsiderable village lying on the slope of a hill, dropping towards the sea. A broad street, some eight hundred yards long, led down the hill, and was crossed nearly in the middle by another, the ends of which were protected by gates made of solid planks—the fourth end, viz: that on the hay, being without any barricade. The houses were rude and small, constructed of hewn planks, and stood in areas, around which were thrown fences made also of plank, serving as very effectual stockades against any sudden attack, and bidding defiance to the simple enginery of the natives. Near the centre was the Governor's house (built in like manner), and in front of it, at the intersection of the streets, a square block, answering the purposes of a fort, and mounted with four patereros, or small cannon, commanded the streets and four points of entrance. On the top of the hill, a large square edifice with a flat roof, whereupon were placed six cannons, shooting balls of four or five pounds, dominated the surrounding country. The upper part of this building served for a fort, and the lower for public worship and meetings generally. On the whole, as against arrows and tomahawks, it was a very pretty fortified place, and would not have been found fault with by Vauban himself, could he have had the good fortune to behold it.
The Knight passed through one of the open gates, which were closed only at night, and proceeded straight to the residence of the Governor. Here he was delivered by the Indians to Bradford, who chid them for wounding Sir Christopher. They excused themselves on the ground of his resistance, declaring that the wound was trivial, and had merely numbed his arm for a moment. (Such, indeed, proved to be a fact, when, shortly afterwards, the broken piece of the arrow was cut out.) The Indians were dismissed with the promised presents, Quecheco being permitted to retain the coveted gun of the Knight as part of his reward. A moment's digression to record the fate of the savage, and we will return to Sir Christopher.
Proud was the Indian of his new acquisition, with its gold and silver ornaments, so far surpassing in beauty all other pieces he had seen, and affectionately he caressed it, calling it his week-su-buck otaw, (sweetheart,) and often repeating, gee-wawee-fee-yi-ee, i.e., you are welcome. He was alone in the forest, the others having departed in different directions, and was on his way to Boston, where he expected to get more of the powder and ball for which he had covenanted. It was the day after his treachery, and he had nearly accomplished his journey, only three or four miles remaining between him and his place of destination, when he heard a rustling in the bushes, and saw Towanquattick advancing. He had first been seen by the Pequot, who, recognizing him, came unsuspiciously forward. Instantly saw Quecheco the consequences of being found by Towanquattick in possession of the gun, with which the latter was familiar as the property of Sir Christopher, and this thought, combining with his hatred, made him suddenly raise the weapon and fire at the approaching Pequot. The forest rang with the report, and as Quecheco, unpractised in the use of fire-arms, having discharged the piece but a few times, recovered himself, he beheld Towanquattick fitting an arrow to his bow. Seizing the tomahawk out of his belt, Quecheco hurled it at the Pequot as the arrow whizzed from the string, but both weapons failed of their mark. Drawing his own tomahawk, the Pequot in turn threw it at his foe, who escaped by a sudden movement of the body.
The two Indians now stood regarding one another with looks of rage, and took the knives off their necks. Neither spoke a word. Each understood the other, and with flashing eyes watched to take an advantage. They were both powerful men, well matched in size and age, and equally armed, so that upon fortune and skill, more than upon brute strength, the result was likely to depend.
Presently, each grasping the knife in his right hand, and bending over, ready for a spring, they began, with eyes fixed on one another, to move round and round, watching for a favorable opportunity to make the fatal dart. Thus, occasionally increasing the rapidity of their movements, then relaxing their swiftness again, they moved in circles several times, but without drawing within striking distance. The thought occurred to both of throwing the knife, which, if skilfully done, might terminate the contest, but the consideration that if the stroke failed, the unsuccessful combatant would be left at the mercy of the other, deterred from the hazardous experiment. After various feints and stratagems foiled, by mutual cunning the two foes stopped, as if by agreement, to devise more effectual schemes of destruction. In this truce of a moment, the eyes of Quecheco fell upon a tomahawk lying near the feet of his opponent, and unobserved by him. His efforts were now directed to getting possession of the weapon, and he re-commenced the system of attack he had practised. It was no difficult thing, by a series of retreats and advances, and constant changes of position, to entice the Pequot, ignorant of the other's design, from the place whereon he stood, and presently the foot of Quecheco touched the missile. The movement of his foe's limbs in searching for the tomahawk had caught the notice of Towanquattick, and before it was touched by Quecheco's foot he had seen it. At the sight, throwing aside the caution he had practised, the Pequot sprung straight at his enemy, and, without seeking to protect himself, plunged his knife into the breast of Quecheco. The force of the blow threw the stooping savage upon his back, and before he could rise, the tomahawk, caught from the ground by the hand of the Pequot, crashed into the brain of the dying traitor. Drawing out, then, the knife, the Pequot, with a rapid turn that indicated a practised hand, passed it round the head of his foe, and tearing off the bloody trophy, hung it at his girdle. A little while the Pequot stood contemplating the body, and as his eyes wandered from the corpse to the gun, which lay on the ground, and back again to the corpse a ferocious gleam of gratified revenge, like the lurid gleam of fires at night, swept over his swarthy face. Picking up, then, the gun, the knives and tomahawks, and stripping the corpse of the articles containing the powder and bullets, the Indian started in search of Joy.
Meanwhile, the Knight had been entertained with all humanity and honor by the Governor of Plymouth; nor was other treatment to be expected from the learned and accomplished Bradford. In appearance he was somewhat less than fifty years of age, with a mild and thoughtful expression of countenance, which revealed to the close observer as much of the meditative student as of the man of action. A thorough receiver and admirer of the principles of the sect to which he belonged, it was the business of his life to illustrate them by his learning, and enforce them by his example.
That strange charm of manner for which the Knight of the Golden Melice was so distinguished, his persuasive voice and intellectual cultivation, failed not to exert their wonted fascination over one so likely to be influenced by exactly such qualities and acquirements as Bradford, and, indeed, nowhere were they calculated to exercise so great a power as in a country where they were uncommon.