Everyone in the crowd turned to the man with the braid.
Oh, no! thought Jack. He knew Squanto wouldn’t remember them.
“These children say they sailed with Captain John Smith,” Governor Bradford said to Squanto. “Does thou remember two wee babes named Jack and Annie?”
Squanto moved closer to Jack and Annie. He looked carefully at their faces. Jack held his breath. His heart pounded.
Squanto turned to the governor.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I remember.”
Annie grinned. “Good day, Squanto!” she said.
“Good day, Annie,” said Squanto. He smiled at her and Jack.
Jack was too surprised to speak. Why did Squanto say he remembers us? he wondered. Is he mistaking us for two other kids?
Captain Standish looked surprised, too. But Governor Bradford smiled warmly.
“ ’Tis a wonder,” he said. “We welcome all the small folk sent to us. Children are a gift from God—no matter where they come from.”
That’s a nice way of looking at things, Jack thought.
Just then, a boy ran up. “Chief Massasoit is here with ninety men!” he shouted.
The boy pointed to a long line of men walking down a path near a cornfield.
Chief Massasoit walked ahead of the others. His face was painted red. He wore a fur robe and white beads.
Governor Bradford, Captain Standish, and Squanto went to meet the visitors.
“Mercy!” a Pilgrim woman whispered.
All the Pilgrims looked worried.
“Art thou afraid?” Annie asked.
“Oh, no,” said Priscilla. “We invited Chief Massasoit and his men to our harvest feast. But we did not expect so many. We have not prepared enough food.”
Governor Bradford and Squanto spoke to the chief. Then Squanto led a number of men into the woods. And the governor walked back to the Pilgrims.
“The Wampanoag men will hunt more deer,” he said. “But we must also bring more food to the table. Priscilla, please tell the young folk what they must do.”
The grown-ups went back to the village as the Pilgrim kids gathered around Priscilla. She told some to carry water or set up tables. She told others to gather vegetables or hunt small animals.
Once the kids were given their jobs, they rushed off to do them. Finally only Jack, Annie, and a small girl holding a big basket were left.
“Jack, would thou like to go fowling with the boys?” Priscilla asked him. She pointed to a group of boys who had just headed off with the dog.
Jack stared at her in panic. What does she mean? he wondered.
“What’s ‘fowling’?” Annie asked.
“Thou does not know?” said the little girl. “ ’Tis hunting water birds, of course.”
“Jack doesn’t know how to do that,” said Annie.
“ ’Tis true? How does thou eat and live?” the little girl asked curiously.
“We, uh … ” Jack froze.
“We catch—fish!” said Annie.
We do? thought Jack.
“Ah, good!” said Priscilla. “Then I bid thee bring back as many eels and clams as thou can. We have near one hundred fifty mouths to feed.” Priscilla took the basket from the small girl and gave it to Annie.
“We will see thee later!” Priscilla said, waving. “Mary and I must go help with the cooking.”
“Um … ?” said Jack.
But before he could ask any questions, Priscilla and the little girl started back to the village.
Jack looked at Annie.
“We can’t stay here,” he said.
“What?” she said. “We can’t go home now. The Pilgrims need us to help them.”
“But we don’t know how to do anything!” Jack said. “And Squanto is going to figure out he doesn’t really know us. And—”
“Don’t worry so much,” said Annie. “We help Mom and Dad make our Thanksgiving dinner every year, don’t we? We can help the Pilgrims. But we’d better hurry!”
Clutching the big basket, she started running toward the bay. Jack sighed, then ran after her.
At the rocky shore, they stopped and looked around. Little waves rolled onto the short stretch of sand. The salty air felt clean and fresh. Seagulls swooped over the water.
“I wonder where the eels are?” said Annie. “And the clams?”
“I’ll look in the book,” said Jack.
He pulled out their book and looked up eels in the index. He turned to the right page and read aloud:
Squanto showed the Pilgrims a way to catch eels. He showed them how to push the eels out of the wet sand with their bare feet, then grab them with their hands.
“That sounds fun!” said Annie. She put down her basket and pulled off her shoes and stockings. She held up her long skirt with one hand. Then she walked over the rocks to the edge of the water.
Jack put the research book into his bag. He pulled off his shoes and stockings and joined Annie.
They dug their bare feet into the wet sand.
“I don’t feel anything,” said Jack.
“Let’s wade into the water,” said Annie.
Together they stepped forward.
“Brrr!” said Annie.
“No kidding!” said Jack with a shiver.
He kept squishing the muddy sand with his toes. He felt pebbles and shells. Then he felt something soft.
“Hey, I think I found one,” he said.
Annie splashed over to him. “Where?”
“Stand back,” he said. “Here.”
Jack squished harder with his feet. The soft thing moved! Jack squished more. An eel slithered through the water.
Jack grabbed it with both hands!
“AHH!” he yelled.
The eel was long and skinny like a snake. It felt slimy and icky! It twisted and squirmed. Annie laughed as Jack tried to hold on to it.
The eel wiggled out of Jack’s hands and fell against Annie.
“Yikes!” she yelled, jumping away and bumping into Jack.
With more screams, they both tumbled into the cold water.
They scrambled up and splashed back to shore. Annie was still laughing.
“Poor eel!” she said, trying to catch her breath. “We scared him half to death!”
“Him?” said Jack.
“F-forget eels,” said Annie, her teeth chattering. “What about c-clams?”
Jack was wet and cold. But he took out the book again and looked up clams. He turned to the right page and read aloud:
Squanto taught the Pilgrims how to dig for quahog (KO-hog) clams. Quahog clams are hard-shell clams. They can live for sixty years or more. The oldest have been known to live for almost 100 years. They—
“Oh, forget it,” Annie broke in.
“What?” said Jack.
“We can’t catch them,” she said. “They live to be so old. We can’t just end their lives.”
Jack sighed. He sat down on a rock. Annie sat next to him. Their clothes were soaking wet. Their feet were caked with muddy sand. Their basket was empty.
“What other things do Pilgrim kids do to help?” said Annie.
Jack opened the book again. He looked up Pilgrim children. He read aloud:
Pilgrim children worked very hard. They built fences and cared for animals. They planted, harvested, and ground corn. They picked pumpkins, peas, and beans. They guarded the fields. They fished and hunted. They carried water. They collected nuts. They cooked and cleaned. They did everything they were told. They never complained about being tired.
“Oh, man, I feel tired just reading this,” said Jack, closing the book. “We make lousy Pilgrim children.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Annie. “Maybe we could do something like … like keep an eye on the turkey and tell them when it’s ready. That’s how I help Mom every year.”
“Annie, Thanksgiving in Frog Creek is a whole different story from Thanksgiving with the Pilgrims,” said Jack.
“Annie! Jack!” a v
oice called.
Jack quickly put away their book. Then they turned around.
Priscilla was standing on a rock. She held a pumpkin and carried a basket filled with yellow squash and red corn.
“I was looking for you,” she said.
“Good day, Priscilla!” said Annie.
“Good day,” said Priscilla. She walked to them. “Did thou fill the basket with eels and clams?”
“Not really,” said Jack.
“The eel didn’t want to get caught,” said Annie. “And the clams live to be so old! We didn’t think it was right to take their lives.”
Priscilla laughed. Her sad eyes sparkled.
“What strange children,” she said. “But you both look wet and cold. Would you like to come to my house and warm up by the fire?”
“Yes!” said Jack and Annie.
They washed off their feet and pulled on their shoes and stockings. Jack picked up his bag. Annie picked up their empty basket.
“Would thou like to put some of my corn and squash in thy basket?” said Priscilla.
“Oh, thanks!” said Annie. She took some corn and squash from Priscilla’s basket.
“And perhaps thou would like to carry the pumpkin?” Priscilla said to Jack.
“Sure!” said Jack.
“Sure?” said Priscilla.
“I mean, indeed,” said Jack. He felt relieved. Now they wouldn’t have to go back empty-handed.
Jack wrapped his arms around the heavy pumpkin. Annie carried the basket. They followed Priscilla back to the village.
The Pilgrims and Wampanoag were gathering in a wide dirt street. Women were baking bread in an outdoor oven. Some boys were setting wooden planks on barrels to make tables. Mary, the little girl, was carrying a bucket of water.
Squanto sat smoking a pipe with Chief Massasoit, Governor Bradford, and Captain Standish.
Jack hoped Mary wouldn’t ask him about the clams and eels. He hoped Squanto wouldn’t ask him about Captain John Smith. He hoped the governor and the captain wouldn’t ask him about home. Jack hid his face behind the fat pumpkin.
Priscilla opened the door to a small house. Then she led Jack and Annie into a dark, smoky room. The only light came from one window and a fire.
“Sit by the hearth,” said Priscilla, “so your clothes can dry.”
“Where’s the hearth?” Annie asked, looking around.
Priscilla laughed again, shaking her head. “There, where the fire lies,” she said.
Jack put down the pumpkin and his bag. Annie put down her basket. The hearth was so large, Jack could have stood in it. He and Annie got as close as they could to the warm, crackling fire.
Several pots hung over the fire. Near the pots, a turkey was roasting on an iron rod.
“The Thanksgiving turkey,” whispered Annie.
“Cool,” said Jack. The very first Thanksgiving turkey, he thought.
“Would thou please stir the corn pudding whilst thou art drying?” asked Priscilla. She pointed to one of the pots.
“Indeed,” said Jack.
Priscilla took a wooden spoon out of a jug of water near the hearth. She gave it to Jack. He put it into the thick, bubbly pudding and stirred.
“I must gather nuts,” said Priscilla. “Whilst I am gone, move the roots close to the ashes and stir herbs into the seafood chowder.”
“Indeed,” said Annie.
After Priscilla left, Annie looked at Jack.
“What are ‘roots’ and ‘herbs’?” she asked.
“Look in the book,” said Jack.
Annie took the research book from Jack’s bag. She looked up roots and read aloud:
The Pilgrims called certain vegetables roots. These vegetables, such as carrots and turnips, grow under the ground.
“Ah!” said Jack. He picked up some carrots and turnips near the hearth and moved them close to the hot ashes.
Next, Annie looked up herbs. She read aloud:
The Pilgrims called leafy vegetables that grow above the ground herbs. They made salads with herbs. They used dried herbs to flavor soups and seafood chowders.
Jack saw some dried plants hanging from the rafters.
“Those must be the herbs,” he said.
Annie broke off a leaf and sniffed it.
“Mmm, that smells good,” she said. She leaned close to one of the pots. “And that must be the seafood chowder. It smells like the ocean.”
She crumbled the leaf into the chowder. She took another spoon from the jug of water. She and Jack both stirred pots.
“Good work!” Priscilla said as she stepped back into the room.
Jack smiled. The fire had made him hot and sweaty. The smoke burned his eyes. But he didn’t mind. Finally he felt useful.
Priscilla put some walnuts close to the fire.
“Squanto taught us which nuts are good to eat,” she said.
“Squanto taught thee a lot,” said Annie.
“He saved our lives,” Priscilla said quietly. “Last winter we were cold and hungry. Half our people died.”
Annie gasped. “How?” she said.
“Sickness,” said Priscilla. “Fever took my mother, my father, and my brother.” Her eyes were bright with tears.
No one spoke. The sound of the crackling fire filled the room. Then Annie put her arm around Priscilla.
“We’re so sorry,” said Annie.
“Yes, we are,” said Jack.
“Thank you,” Priscilla said with a sad smile. “ ’Twas a terrible winter. But we never gave up hope. And now, God be praised, we have had a good harvest, and we have peace with our neighbors.”
In the glow of the firelight, Priscilla was beautiful, Jack thought. Not only was she kind, but she was incredibly brave as well.
“Come,” she said. She wiped her eyes and stood up. “Something special is about to take place. Would thou like to watch?”
“Sure! I mean, indeed!” said Annie.
She and Jack jumped up and followed Priscilla outside.
Priscilla led Jack and Annie away from the village toward a large field. The Pilgrims and Wampanoag men had already gathered there.
Jack could hear the beat of a drum. But he couldn’t see what was going on.
“Make haste or we will miss it!” said Priscilla.
“Miss what?” asked Annie.
“Captain Standish is about to lead the men and boys,” said Priscilla. “They will exercise their arms.”
Why do they exercise their arms? Jack wondered. Will they expect me to join in?
As he hurried after Priscilla toward the crowd, Jack practiced. He stretched his arms out wide. He made circles in the air. Then he flapped his arms up and down.
Priscilla caught sight of him.
“What art thou doing, Jack?” she asked.
“Exercising my arms,” he said.
Priscilla smiled. Then she started to laugh. She laughed and laughed.
So did Jack, but he wasn’t sure why.
A loud BANG! came from the field.
Jack jumped. He stopped laughing.
A puff of smoke rose into the air. As the crowd parted, Jack saw the Pilgrim men and boys proudly holding up their long guns.
“What just happened?” said Annie.
“The men fired their muskets,” said Priscilla. “On special occasions they like to show off their arms.”
Oh! thought Jack. Now I get it! The long guns are muskets, which are also called arms. So “exercising arms” means firing muskets!
Jack blushed. Priscilla must think I’m an idiot, he thought.
But she just smiled at him fondly.
“I thank thee for making me laugh, Jack,” she said. “I have not laughed hard in a long time.”
Jack shrugged, as if he had meant to make her laugh.
“It is time now to serve our feast,” said Priscilla. “I must help with the bread.”
“What can we do?” asked Jack.
“Return to my home,” said Priscilla, “take
the turkey off the spit, put it on a platter, and bring it to a table.”
“Oh, great, we get to help with the turkey!” said Annie. “I always help with the turkey at home.”
“Good,” said Priscilla. “May thou feel my home is thy home today.”
Jack was excited, too. He and Annie were about to serve the first turkey at the first Thanksgiving! They ran back to the smoky house and rushed inside.
“Where’s the platter?” said Jack, looking around. He saw a flat wooden block. “That must be it.”
Annie picked up the wooden platter. “How do we get the turkey on it?” she asked.
They moved close to the fire and stared at the turkey roasting on the iron rod.
“That must be the spit,” said Jack. The spit sat on iron legs. It had a handle.
Jack pushed his glasses into place. “I’ll lift the spit,” he said. “Then we’ll push the turkey onto the platter.”
“Be careful,” said Annie.
Jack reached out and wrapped his fingers around the handle of the iron spit.
“OWW!” he shouted. The handle was super hot! He yanked his hand away and knocked the spit off its legs.
The turkey fell into the fire. The grease from the turkey sputtered and popped. The turkey burst into flame! The fire roared!
“AHH!” yelped Jack and Annie together. They jumped back from the hearth.
Jack grabbed the water pot on the floor. He threw the water into the fire. The fire sizzled and smoke billowed up. When the smoke cleared, the fire was out.
But the turkey was completely black.
Jack buried his face in his hands.
“I don’t believe it,” he said. “I just burned up the Pilgrims’ turkey!”
“Stay calm,” said Annie. “I’ll get Priscilla.”
“No, don’t tell Priscilla,” moaned Jack.
“We have to tell Priscilla,” said Annie.
She hurried out of the house.
Jack lifted his head and stared at the burned turkey.
“Oh, man,” he whispered unhappily. The Pilgrims had worked so hard to get their food. They had had such a terrible winter—especially Priscilla. And now he had ruined their first Thanksgiving!
Thanksgiving on Thursday Page 2
