The Indians whom they found here were called Almouchiquois, and differed in many respects from any which they had seen before, from the Sourequois of Nova Scotia and the Etechemins of the northern part of Maine and New Brunswick. They spoke a different language, and, unlike their neighbors on the east, did not subsist mainly by the chase, but upon the products of the soil, supplemented by fish, which were plentiful and of excellent quality, and which they took with facility about the mouth of the river. De Monts and Champlain made an excursion upon the shore, where their eyes were refreshed by fields of waving corn, and gardens of squashes, beans, and pumpkins, which were then bursting into flower. [43] Here they saw in cultivation the rank narcotic petun, or tobacco, [44] just beginning to spread out its broad velvet leaves to the sun, the sole luxury of savage life. The forests were thinly wooded, but were nevertheless rich in primitive oak, in lofty ash and elm, and in the more humble and sturdy beech. As on Richmond's Island so here, along the bank of the river they found grapes in luxurious growth, from which the sailors busied themselves in making verjuice, a delicious beverage in the meridian heats of a July sun. The natives were gentle and amiable, graceful in figure, agile in movement, and exhibited unusual taste, dressing their hair in a variety of twists and braids, intertwined with ornamental feathers.
Champlain observed their method of cultivating Indian corn, which the experience of two hundred and seventy-five years has in no essential point improved or even changed. They planted three or four seeds in hills three feet apart, and heaped the earth about them, and kept the soil clear of weeds. Such is the method of the successful New England farmer to-day. The experience of the savage had taught him how many individuals of the rank plant could occupy prolifically a given area, how the soil must be gathered about the roots to sustain the heavy stock, and that there must be no rival near it to draw away the nutriment on which the voracious plant feeds and grows. Civilization has invented implements to facilitate the processes of culture, but the observation of the savage had led him to a knowledge of all that is absolutely necessary to ensure a prolific harvest.
After lingering two days at Saco, our explorers proceeded on their voyage. When they had advanced not more than twenty miles, driven by a fierce wind, they were forced to cast anchor near the salt marshes of Wells. Having been driven by Cape Porpoise, on the subsidence of the wind, they returned to it, reconnoitred its harbor and adjacent islands, together with Little River, a few miles still further to the east. The shores were lined all along with nut-trees and grape-vines. The islands about Cape Porpoise were matted all over with wild currants, so that the eye could scarcely discern any thing else. Attracted doubtless by this fruit, clouds of wild pigeons had assembled there, and were having a midsummer's festival, fearless of the treacherous snare or the hunter's deadly aim. Large numbers of them were taken, which added a coveted luxury to the not over-stocked larder of the little French barque.
On the 15th of July, De Monts and his party left Cape Porpoise, keeping in and following closely the sinuosities of the shore. They saw no savages during the day, nor any evidences of any, except a rising smoke, which they approached, but found to be a lone beacon, without any surroundings of human life. Those who had kindled the fire had doubtless concealed themselves, or had fled in dismay. Possibly they had never seen a ship under sail. The fishermen who frequented our northern coast rarely came into these waters, and the little craft of our voyagers, moving without oars or any apparent human aid, seemed doubtless to them a monster gliding upon the wings of the wind. At the setting of the sun, they were near the flat and sandy coast, now known as Wallace's Sands. They fought in vain for a roadstead where they might anchor safely for the night. When they were opposite to Little Boar's Head, with the Isles of Shoals directly east of them, and the reflected rays of the sun were still throwing their light upon the waters, they saw in the distance the dim outline of Cape Anne, whither they directed their course, and, before morning, came to anchor near its eastern extremity, in sixteen fathoms of water. Near them were the three well-known islands at the apex of the cape, covered with forest-trees, and the woodless cluster of rocks, now called the Savages, a little further from the shore.
The next morning five or six Indians timidly approached them in a canoe, and then retired and set up a dance on the shore, as a token of friendly greeting. Armed with crayon and drawing-paper, Champlain was despatched to seek from the natives some important geographical information. Dispensing knives and biscuit as a friendly invitation, the savages gathered about him, assured by their gifts, when he proceeded to impart to them their first lesson in topographical drawing. He pictured to them the bay on the north side of Cape Anne, which he had just traversed, and signifying to them that he desired to know the course of the shore on the south, they immediately gave him an example of their apt scholarship by drawing with the same crayon an accurate outline of Massachusetts Bay, and finished up Champlain's own sketch by introducing the Merrimac River, which, not having been seen, owing to the presence of Plum Island, which stretches like a curtain before its mouth, he had omitted to portray. The intelligent natives volunteered a bit of history. By placing six pebbles at equal distances, they intimated that Massachusetts Bay was occupied by six tribes, and governed by as many chiefs. [45] He learned from them, likewise, that the inhabitants of this region subsisted by agriculture, as did those at the mouth of the Saco, and that they were very numerous.
Leaving Cape Anne on Saturday the 16th of July, De Monts entered Massachusetts Bay, sailed into Boston harbor, and anchored on the western side of Noddle's Island, now better known as East Boston. In passing into the bay, they observed large patches of cleared land, and many fields of waving corn both upon the islands and the mainland. The water and the islands, the open fields and lofty forest-trees, presented fine contrasts, and rendered the scenery attractive and beautiful. Here for the first time Champlain observed the log canoe. It was a clumsy though serviceable boat in still waters, nevertheless unstable and dangerous in unskilful hands. They saw, issuing into the bay, a large river, coming from the west, which they named River du Guast, in honor of Pierre du Guast, Sieur de Monts, the patentee of La Cadie, and the patron and director of this expedition. This was Charles River, seen, evidently just at its confluence with the Mystic. [46]
On Sunday, the 17th of July, 1605, they left Boston harbor, threading their way among the islands, passing leisurely along the south shore, rounding Point Allerton on the peninsula of Nantasket, gliding along near Cohasset and Scituate, and finally cast anchor at Brant Point, upon the southern borders of Marshfield. When they left the harbor of Boston, the islands and mainland were swarming with the native population. The Indians were, naturally enough, intensely interested in this visit of the little French barque. It may have been the first that had ever made its appearance in the bay. Its size was many times greater than any water-craft of their own. Spreading its white wings and gliding silently away without oarsmen, it filled them with surprise and admiration. The whole population was astir. The cornfields and fishing stations were deserted. Every canoe was manned, and a flotilla of their tiny craft came to attend, honor, and speed the parting guests, experiencing, doubtless, a sense of relief that they were going, and filled with a painful curiosity to know the meaning of this mysterious visit.
Having passed the night at Brant Point, they had not advanced more than two leagues along a sandy shore dotted with wigwams and gardens, when they were forced to enter a small harbor, to await a more favoring wind. The Indians flocked about them, greeted them with cordiality, and invited them to enter the little river which flows into the harbor, but this they were unable to do, as the tide was low and the depth insufficient. Champlain's attention was attracted by several canoes in the bay, which had just completed their morning's work in fishing for cod. The fish were taken with a primitive hook and line, apparently in a manner not very different from that of the present day. The line was made of a filament of bark stripped from the trunk of a tree; the hook was of wood, having a sharp bone, forming a barb, lashed to it with a cord of a grassy fibre, a kind of wild hemp, growing spontaneously in that region. Champlain landed, distributed trinkets among the natives, examined and sketched an outline of the place, which identifies it as Plymouth harbor, which captain John Smith visited in 1614, and where the May Flower, still six years later landed the first permanent colony planted upon New England soil.
After a day at Plymouth, the little bark weighed anchor, swept down Cape Cod, approaching near to the reefs of Billingsgate, describing a complete semicircle, and finally, with some difficulty, doubled the cape whose white sands they had seen in the distance glittering in the sunlight and which appropriately they named Cap Blanc. This cape, however, had been visited three years before by Bartholomew Gosnold, and named Cape Cod, which appellation it has retained to the present time. Passing down on the outside of the cape some distance, they came to anchor, sent explorers on the shore, who ascending on of the lofty sand-banks [47] which may still be seen there silently resisting the winds and waves, discovered further to the south, what is now known as Nauset harbor, entirely surrounded by Indian cabins. The next day, the 20th of July, 1605, they effected an entrance without much difficulty. The bay was spacious, being nine or ten miles in circumference. Along the borders, there were, here and there, cultivated patches, interspersed with dwellings of the natives. The wigwam was cone-shaped, heavily thatched with reeds, having an orifice at the apex for the emission of smoke. In the fields were growing Indian corn, Brazilian beans, pumpkins, radishes, and tobacco; and in the woods were oak and hickory and red cedar. During their stay in the harbor they encountered an easterly storm, which continued four days, so raw and chilling that they were glad to hug their winter cloaks about them on the 22d of July. The natives were friendly and cordial, and entered freely into conversation with Champlain; but, as the language of each party was not understood by the other, the information he obtained from them was mostly by signs, and consequently too general to be historically interesting or important.
The first and only act of hostility by the natives which De Monts and his party had thus far experienced in their explorations on the entire coast occurred in this harbor. Several of the men had gone ashore to obtain fresh water. Some of the Indians conceived an uncontrollable desire to capture the copper vessels which they saw in their hands. While one of the men was stooping to dip water from a spring, one of the savages darted upon him and snatched the coveted vessel from his hand. An encounter followed, and, amid showers of arrows and blows, the poor sailor was brutally murdered. The victorious Indian, fleet as the reindeer, escaped with his companions, bearing his prize with him into the depths of the forest. The natives on the shore, who had hitherto shown the greatest friendliness, soon came to De Monts, and by signs disowned any participation in the act, and assured him that the guilty parties belonged far in the interior. Whether this was the truth or a piece of adroit diplomacy, it was nevertheless accepted by De Monts, since punishment could only be administered at the risk of causing the innocent to suffer instead of the guilty.