CHAPTER VI.
THE FIRST ENCOUNTER.
So thoroughly were the bolder spirits among the Pilgrims impressed withthe necessity of haste in finding an abiding place that by afternoon ofthe next day the pinnace was victualed and fitted for a voyage of tendays or more, and the adventurers ready to embark. To the twelve menpreviously named, all of whom were signers of the Constitution alreadydrawn up to quell symptoms of insubordination on the part of Hopkins andothers, were added Clarke and Coppin, acting as pilots, with the rank ofmaster's mate, three sailors, and the master gunner, who, uninvited,thrust himself into the company in hopes of making something by traffic,or, as he phrased it, _trucking_ with the Indians.
But hasten as they might many things delayed them, some of them asimportant as the death of Jasper More, an orphan in charge of theCarvers, and the birth of a son to Mistress White, whom his father andDoctor Fuller whimsically named Peregrine, latest of the Pilgrims, andfirst of native born American white men. When at last the shallop leftthe Mayflower's side it was in teeth of such bad weather as left theformer expedition far in the shade, for not only was the northeast windmore bitter, but the temperature so low that the spray froze upon therigging and the men's jerkins, turning them into coats of mail almostimpossible to bend.
It was soon found impossible for Master English to lay his proposedcourse, and finally the Pilgrims resolved to land and encamp for thenight, partly for the sake of the greedy gunner, who had turned sodeadly sick that it was feared he would die, and for Edward Tilley, wholay in the bottom of the boat in a dead swoon, while his brother Johncrouched beside him covered with John Howland's coat, which he declaredwas but an impediment to him in rowing.
"They should never have come. Had I guessed their unfitness I would havehindered it, but now alack it is too late, and I fear they have come totheir death," said Carver in Bradford's ear, and indeed it was so. Thebrothers, never divided in body or soul since their birth, had as oneman given their substance, their strength, their faith, to the commoncause, and now were giving their lives as simply and as willingly asheroes ever will go to their death, so giving life to many.
The second night found them only as far as what we now call Eastham, andagain building a "randevous" and gathering firewood, a difficult task atany time in this vicinity, for the trees were lofty and the underbrushannually burned away by the Indians to facilitate hunting. But it wasfinally done, as all things will be when such men set about them, thefire was built, the supper eaten, the prayer said, and the psalm sung,its rude melody rising from that wilderness to the wintry sky with theassurance of Daniel's song in the den of lions. Then all slept exceptEdward Dotey, to whom was committed the first watch, to last while threeinches of the slow-match attached to his piece were consuming.
Striding up and down his appointed beat the young man hummed again theevening psalm, mildly anathematized the cold, peered into the blacknessof the forest, and glanced enviously at his comrades sound asleep aboutthe fire.
"'T is all but burned," muttered he stooping to examine the match, andthrusting a fallen log back into the fire with his boot. But in thatvery instant upon the intense stillness of the night burst suddenly adiscordant clamor, a confusion of horrible and unknown sounds, unlike,in simple Edward Dotey's mind, to anything possible this side of hell.Undaunted even thus, he answered the assault with a yell of quiveringdefiance, fired his matchlock into the air, and shouted at the top ofhis voice,--
"Arm! arm! arm! The fiend is upon us!"
All sprang to their feet alert and ready, and two or three pieces wereshot off, but no foe appeared, and no reply was made to their shouts ofdefiance.
Dotey, questioned by Standish, was fain to confess he had seen nothing,and Coppin averred that he had more than once heard similar sounds uponthe coast of Newfoundland, and that they were commonly thought to be thevoices of sirens or mermaids who haunted lonely shores.
"If naught more imminent than mermaids is upon us I'll e'en go back tosleep," said Winslow in good-natured derision, while Standish, lightinghis slow-match, said pleasantly to Dotey,--
"Lay thee down, man, and sleep. If thy fiend comes again I'll giveaccount of him."
A few grim jests, a little laughter, and the camp was again quiet, untilStandish, sure that no enemy could be at hand, resigned his watch toHowland, and he to English, until at five o'clock William Bradfordaroused his comrades, reminding them that on account of the tide theymust embark within the hour, and had still to breakfast.
A wintry fog, piercing in its chill, had closed down upon the camp,covering everything with a half-frozen rime, dropping sullenly like rainfrom such things as came near the fire, and stiffening into ice in theshade.
"I fear me our pieces will hang fire after this soaking," remarkedCarver examining his matchlock.
"It were well to try them before there is need," said Winslow firing hisinto the thicket behind the camp. His example was followed by several,until Standish good-humoredly cried,--
"Enough, enough, friends! Save powder and shot for the enemy if there beone. Such grapes grow not on these vines."
"Well, since the pieces are ready, and the twilight breaks, it were wellfor some of us to carry them and the other armor down to the boat, whilethe rest set out the breakfast," suggested Hopkins, always anxious to bestirring.
"Nay, 't is but poor soldiership to part from our arms even for so briefa space," said Winslow. "There be other matters, cloaks and haversacks,and such like, that can be carried, but the arms and armor should abidewith them who wear them."
"Master Winslow may do as seemeth good in his own eyes, but my armorgoeth now," retorted Hopkins in a belligerent tone. And loading himselfwith his breastplate, steel cap, matchlock, and bullet pouch, he strodeobstinately away to the boat, lying some three or four hundred yardsdistant, waiting for the tide to float her.
Standish watched him disapprovingly, and, turning to Carver, he inquiredsignificantly,--
"What saith our governor?"
"Let each man do as seemeth good to himself," replied Carver placably."'T is of no great import."
"My snaphance goes nowhere out of reach of my right hand," announcedStandish somewhat sharply, for the want of discipline grieved him, andBradford, Winslow, and Howland silently indorsed both his action and hisfeeling. The courteous Carver said nothing, and did nothing, but asailor seeing the governor's armor lying together, carried it down tothe boat, thinking to do him a service.
Reaching the shore, Hopkins found the boat surrounded by a few inches ofwater, and, not caring to wade out to her, laid his load upon the shore,to wait until she fairly floated,--an example followed by the rest, someof whom strolled back to the camp, while others stood talking to thosewho had slept on board, until a summons to breakfast quickened theirmotions; but just as the laggards entered the randevous the samehorrible noise that had so startled Edward Dotey burst forth again,while one of the sailors yet lingering by the shore came rushing up,shouting like a madman,--
"Salvages! Indians! They are men!" and, as if to prove his words, ashower of arrows came rattling into the randevous, one of themtransfixing the lump of boiled beef laid ready for breakfast.
"Why didn't you bring up your pieces again, ye fools!" cried Standishangrily. "Run, now, and recover them before the enemy seizes them, whilewe men of wit cover your course."
Not waiting to dispute the style of this command, the unarmed menhastened to obey it, while Standish, taking position at the openentrance of the barricade, fired his shaphance in the direction wherethe sailor pointed; Bradford followed suit; but as Winslow and Howlandstepped forward Standish held up his hand,--
"Hold your fire, men, until we see the foe, and Bradford load again withall speed! We must hold the randevous at all odds, for here is half ourstuff, and our lives depend upon not losing it. Hasten ye laggards! RunTilley! Run men!"
"He is spent!" cried John Howland, throwing down his piece and dashingout into the open, where he seized John Tilley round the waist and halfc
arried, half dragged him into the inclosure.
"They will seize the shallop!" cried Carver, and springing on thebarricade, heedless of his own exposure, he shouted to those in theboat,--
"Ho, Warren! English! Coppin! Are you safe and on your watch?"
"Ay, well! All is well!" cried the rough voices of the seamen, andWarren's manly tones added, "Be of good courage, brethren!"
"And quit yourselves like men," muttered Standish, his snaphance at hisshoulder, his eager eyes scanning the covert.
Three shots from the pinnace rang bravely through the wood, and thencame a hail,--
"Ho, comrades, bring us a light! We have no fire to set off our pieces!"
"Their matches are not alight!" exclaimed Howland, and snatching a brandfrom the camp-fire he again dashed out, down the wooded slope, andsplashing mid-leg deep through the freezing brine, he gave the brandinto Warren's hand, then rushed back as he came, the arrows whistlingaround his head and two sticking in his heavy frieze jerkin.
"Well done, John! well done!" cried Carver clapping the young man on theshoulder as, breathless and glowing, he stooped to pick up hismatchlock. "The sight of such valor will daunten the Indians more than awhole flight of bullets."
And in fact there was for a moment a lull in the enemy's movements, butrather of rage than dismay, for the savage outcry burst forth the nextmoment with more ferocity than ever, and as it died away a single voiceshouted in a tone of command some words, to which the rest responded bysuch a yell as later on curdled the blood of the hapless settlers atDeerfield and other places.
"Aha! There is a leader, there!" growled Standish, his eyes glitteringand his strong teeth clenched. "Let him show himself!"
As if in answer to the wish a stalwart figure leaped from behind a largetree to the shelter of a smaller one, about half a gunshot from thecamp.
"That's your man, Captain!" exclaimed Howland, who stood next him.
"Ay, leave him to me!" growled Standish. "Ha!" for an arrow well andstrongly aimed hit squarely above his heart, and rebounded from the coatof mail Rose had insisted upon his putting on.
"For thee, wife!" murmured the captain, and fired.
Bark and splinters flew from the tree where the crown of the warrior'shead had showed for an instant, but a shriek of derisive laughter toldthat no further harm was done. Standish, with a grim smile, reloadedhis snaphance, while two more arrows vigorously flew, one piercing theright sleeve of his doublet, the other aimed at his face, which heavoided by moving his head. Then for one instant a dusky arm was seenreaching over the shoulder for another arrow, and in that instant thesnaphance rang cheerily out, the arm fell with a convulsive movement,and a piercing cry rang through the wood, followed by the pattering ofmany moccasoned feet, as dusky shadows slipped from tree to tree, andwere lost in the dim recesses of the forest.
"They are routed! They fly!" cried Howland firing his piece into arustling thicket.
"Yes, that last cry was the retreat," said Standish half regretfullyplucking the arrow from his sleeve. "The chief finds his courage cooledby a broken elbow. I doubt me if ever he speed arrow again."
"Body o' me!" continued he examining the shaft in his hand. "See you,John, 't is pointed with naught but a bird's talon, curiously bound onwith its own sinews. To be scratched to death by a fowl were but a poorending for a man that has fought Alva!"
"Pursue them, Captain, pursue and terrify, but kill not, if you can helpit," ordered Carver eagerly. "Let the heathen know that they are butmen, and that the Lord of Hosts is on our side."
"Forward then, men! At the double-quick! Run!" and, waving his sword,Standish rushed after the flying savages, followed by all but Carver,English, and the sailors who stayed to guard the randevous and thepinnace. But even as he ran Myles muttered, perhaps to the swordGideon,--
"Beshrew me if I see how I am to hurl yon text in the heathen's teeth,sith we have no common tongue, and they will not stop for parley! A goodman, and a gentle, but no soldier, is our governor!"
As might have been expected, the Pilgrims, in their heavy clothing andarmor, proved no match for the Indians in a foot-race, and afterpursuing them for about a quarter of a mile Standish called a halt, andordered his men to raise a shout of mingled triumph and defiance,followed by a volley of three, each three reloading as the next fired.
The victory thus asserted, and the foe offering no response, the littlearmy retired in good order upon the randevous, where they only tarriedlong enough to pick up the rest of their possessions and make a sheaf ofarrows, pointed not only with eagle's claws, but with the tips of deer'shorns and bits of brass and iron gathered from the various Europeanvessels touching for provisions or traffic at these shores.
It was indeed to the treachery of one of these commanders that thepresent attack of the savages was due. Thomas Hunt, visiting theseshores in 1614 to procure a cargo of dried fish for Spain, recompensedthe kindness and hospitality of the savages by cajoling four-and-twentyof them on board his ship and carrying them as slaves to Malaga, wherehe sold several, the rest being claimed for purposes of conversion bythe Franciscan Friars of those parts.
One of these captives, named Tisquantum, or Squanto, escaped from Hunt,and remained for a while in England, where he was kindly treated andlearned the language with something of the mode of life. He was broughtback to Cape Cod as an interpreter by an adventurer named Dermer, andfinally returned to his own people, who were so enraged by his story ofHunt's treachery and cruelty, that they resolved by way of revenge tosacrifice the first white men who fell into their hands, and had theyproved themselves better men than the Pilgrims would have inflicted notonly death, but the most cruel torments upon them.
The goods and weapons on hoard, Carver, by a word, gathered the menaround him upon the sands, and in a few fervent and hearty wordsreturned thanks to the God of battles for His aid and protection,invoking at the same time protection and counsel for the farther dangersof the exploration. Then embarking with all speed the shallop was pushedoff and flew merrily on before the strong east wind.
Standish of Standish: A Story of the Pilgrims Page 7
