"Welcome, my brother, exclaimed Arundel, I did not know but that I had lost thee. Where hast thou been, and what means the change in thy appearance?"
"The great white chief invited Waqua to listen to his talk with the Taranteens, (may the wolf crunch their bones,) and Waqua is here. He has painted himself according to the custom of his tribe. This (touching the paint) is for my enemies, and this (in like manner touching the unpainted portion) is for my friends."
Arundel remembering the strong expressions of dislike towards the Taranteens which fell from the Indian the day before, and connecting them with his present preparation, felt some apprehension for what might happen from his boldly uttered aversion, and determined to keep close by him, in order to restrain him from imprudences, and to protect him, if need should arise, from danger. He took care, therefore, during the rest of the day, to carry Waqua with him wherever he moved, or to follow the Indian, when the latter's curiosity tempted him into different parts of the assemblage.
It was seldom, if ever, that the Puritans undertook anything of importance, either of a private or public character, without invoking the blessing and guidance of a superior power. There was good policy as well as piety in the practice; for by admitting the ministers into their councils, and giving them conspicuous parts to perform therein, the magistrates secured their good will and powerful influence with the people; and, indeed, it may well be imagined, that this spiritual aid in a theocratical commonwealth was a part of the system. On the present occasion, the whole assembly rose at a signal from Winthrop, and Mr. Eliot, afterwards known as the Indian Apostle, asked for a blessing. The prayer was like the man himself, earnest and simple, and listened to with a fixed attention, that indicated the religious reverence of the hardy men who were gathered around. The Taranteens themselves, following the example of the others, stood up and fastened their dyes intently on the speaker, as if, though not understanding a word he uttered, they expected to gather some meaning from the motion of his lips.
When the prayer was ended, Gov. Winthrop rose, and requesting Mr. Eliot (who was sufficiently familiar with the Algonquin language to make himself understood in it) to interpret, he commenced an oration to the ambassadors, each sentence, as it was spoken, being translated by Mr. Eliot.
Confining himself to such ideas as he thought would be most appreciable by the rude intellects of the forest children, he began by expressing his pleasure at the visit, and at the pacific spirit which was manifested by his red brethren. He spoke of the happiness of himself and of his people in being able to succor the storm-tossed Taranteens, and of their readiness to extend kindness to the whole nation. He pointed out the reciprocal advantages which would result from the establishment of trade between them, each parting with what he valued less for what he desired more. He dwelt upon the vast power of his own nation, living beyond the sea, toward the rising sun, and riding in safety at pleasure over the mighty waves, in great canoes with wings, some of which were in sight. He adverted to the pestilence which had swept the land just previous to the coming of the whites, hinting that it was the breath of the great Spirit which destroyed the inhabitants, to make room for his more favored people. He concluded by saying, that they were all children of the same parent, who was most pleased at seeing them living together in harmony.
It was impossible to judge, from the countenances or manner of the Indians, how they were affected by the speech,—only the gutteral "ugh," responding from time to time to the translation of Mr. Eliot. This was designed as a sign of attention, or of approval, or the contrary, but it was difficult to the English to determine in any case which. In fact, like skilful diplomatists, the ambassadors preserved their dignity, and concealed their feelings.
When the Governor had resumed his seat, one of the oldest Indians, after a considerable pause, rose, and stepping forward a few feet, so as to separate himself from all around, turned his face to Winthrop, and began a speech in return. It was pronounced with great deliberation, and rendered into English by the interpreter, as the orator proceeded.
"The Taranteens," he said, "are a great nation, who having heard that a people of the same color, but speaking a different language from their friends the French, had taken possession of the country of the Aberginians, had sent him and his companions, that with their own eyes they might see, and with their own ears might hear, if what had been told them was the truth. Besides, they desired to return thanks for the kindness shown to their countrymen, which they would not forget. Let this belt," said the orator, taking a piece of wampompeag from the hands of one of his companions, and laying it on the ground, "preserve my words. It is very pleasant," he continued, "to plant the tree of peace. May the sapling which we shall plant to-day become a bigger tree than the great elm under which we are assembled, and may we, for many seasons, dance together in its shade. The Taranteens are a great people; they have many warriors, and big canoes, and are so strong, that when they talk of peace, it is not so much for themselves as for the sake of others; and as my white brother hath said, hath not the Great Spirit made all men, and doth he not love to see them playing like children in the grass?
"Now let my white brothers open wide their ears, for I am going to say a thing which much concerns them and us. We have heard that our white brothers are very fond of land, and that if we make friends with them they will try to steal away our land. We care not if they take all the land of the Aberginians, but they must not think to have any part of our hunting grounds. We want them all for the game to run in. These two black belts preserve my words.