The Landing of the Pilgrims (9 page)

Those left behind stood in silent little groups at the water’s edge, their gaze fixed on the bright speck of sail fading on the horizon. At this moment their hearts were in old England in the sweet springtime.

As the
Mayflower
disappeared, they turned back to the rugged New England hillside. Each one knew that a greater gulf than the Atlantic separated them forever from the past.

All through that spring, both men and women worked daily in the fields and woods from dawn to dusk. Even their Governor Carver did the same hard labor as the rest. On a warm April day, while working in the fields, he was taken suddenly ill and lost consciousness. In a few days he died.

The colonists met and chose William Bradford for Governor. Bradford bravely took up the task and did his work well. For nearly thirty-five years he served as Governor of New Plymouth. On his shoulders now rested the success of the colony. He made the rules, administered justice, divided the common store of provisions, and each year allotted
shares of the common land to each of the families. He also supervised the Indian trade and dealt with strangers according to their deserts. Because Bradford was still weak from the first sickness, Mr. Allerton was chosen as his assistant.

(July 1621)

Mrs. Hopkins was bending over the open fireplace. She was extracting a corn pudding from the pot that hung over the fire. This New England dish, which she herself had invented, was made of Indian corn and deer fat, with whatever seasoning happened to be at hand.

An uneasy feeling caused her to look round suddenly. “Wahoooo!” she yelled, dropping the pudding in the ashes. In the room stood a tall, half-naked Indian making the peace sign. Behind him was a black-eyed woman and two very naked little boys. The Indian grinned, making friendly gestures.

“Lord, I never can get used to ’em,” Mrs. Hopkins said, shaking her head, but making a kindly sign toward her visitors. “The way they creep up on you without making a sound! It’s
enough to scare the life out of a body. Thank the Lord they don’t mean no harm.”

The Indians were examining everything in the room. Mrs. Hopkins rescued the corn pudding from the ashes. “Here, taste this and begone,” she said, as she distributed slices of the pudding to her visitors and shooed them laughingly out of the door. “I’ve no time to waste this morning.”

Little by little, the people of Plymouth were getting used to such visits. Singly or in groups, Indian visitors came out of the forest. Sometimes a dozen at a time came with their women, children, and dogs. They arrived at all hours of the day to sit and talk, to trade, to smoke and eat. The English had little food or time to spare, and the Indians expected to be fed and entertained. These amiable visitors often interrupted work or wasted time, and sometimes became pests and nuisances.

Squanto alone always made himself useful. In fact he had become necessary in many different ways. Above all, he was “the tongue of the English.” He became their official interpreter and lived in Plymouth.

When the planting was finished, Governor Bradford and his Council decided that it would be in the interests of peace and good business to return Massasoit’s visits. Winslow was appointed as their ambassador to the great Chief. He would take with him Squanto as a guide and interpreter and John Hopkins, who was a very good shot.
They would of course take along a present worthy of the great Chief.

“A scarlet coat trimmed in lace is a vanity,” observed the Governor, as he took the cotton hunting coat from the oaken chest and handed it to Winslow. “But methinks it will delight the heart of our new friend, Chief Massasoit. Remind him of our deep love and of our desire that he bring many more of the skins of the beaver to trade for mirrors and iron kettles. Explain kindly how we wish that his people would come less often to visit us, but assure him that
his
royal person will be always welcome. Beseech him that he search out those from whom we took their corn, that we may restore the same to them in full measure.”

They started at sunrise, marching steadily through the green woods in single file, behind the silent Squanto. In the middle of the afternoon they sighted the smoke of a campfire and came upon a band of Indians in an open corn field. Squanto said they were a tribe called Namasheucks.

These Indians invited the English to eat with them. The hungry white men feasted on large helpings of corn bread and shad roe. This last novelty was the most delicious Indian food they had yet tasted.

Suddenly the Indians pointed excitedly to where a flock of crows was alighting in their field of young corn.

“They want you to shoot at the crows which are
damaging their crops,” Squanto explained.

Obligingly, Hopkins rested the heavy musket on the firing staff and took aim.

“Make sure you bring down a black thief,” whispered Winslow.

The next second the shot resounded across the clearing, and the crows rose cawing with a great flapping of wings. The Indians ran and picked up a dead crow, amazed at the magic powers of the white hunter.

Squanto urged that the party push on while it was still light. After an eight-mile march, they came upon a fair river, where there were Indians catching fish. They had made a fine catch of bass. That night, the English and Indians feasted on fish fresh from the river. Then they slept under the stars, for the Indians had built no lodges there.

When Squanto and the Englishmen started off the next morning, six tall braves accompanied them. During the long hot day’s march, the Indians carried the Englishmen’s guns and baggage for them and took them over streams on their backs. The English admired the many kinds of fine trees as they marched through the forests. In places they crossed rough outcroppings of rock.

Once or twice the party met an Indian and his family and stopped to trade trinkets for food.

Along the rivers were the barren corn fields. These had been cultivated a few years before by a numerous tribe which had been wiped out by the
plague. Winslow and his men came upon their skulls and bones lying in the underbrush.

Late in the day the party came out on a river and Squanto pointed to where a village of round lodges straggled along the river bank.

“Here Massasoit and his people dwell,” said Squanto.

Curious Indians surrounded the newcomers. When it was discovered that Massasoit was not there, a messenger was sent to notify him of Winslow’s arrival.

Squanto urged that when Massasoit came, the English should fire their muskets in his honor. The Chief was considerably startled by the salute and most of his people vanished into the woods. He was vastly pleased, however, when his visitors put the scarlet coat on his shoulders and a copper chain about his neck. He strutted about the village before his admiring subjects.

When he tired of this, Massasoit made a solemn speech, saying he agreed to all that the English desired. He would give them new varieties of seed corn. He asked only that they destroy his enemies, the terrible Narragansetts.

After the speech, he explained that he could not offer supper to his English visitors as he had procured no food, but he invited them to sleep in his lodge. Then, for entertainment, the tribe sang and danced till late in the night, while the hungry white men slapped at the mosquitoes.

That night in the Chief’s lodge, they shared the hard board bed with Massasoit and his wife. Two more huge Indians crowded in beside them. The night was sultry and the lodge full of hungry fleas.

“We were worse weary of our lodging than of our journey,” said Winslow.

Next day, the village was crowded with curious braves, their women, children, and dogs. They came for their first look at white men. Massasoit proudly paraded in his red coat. The Indians begged the white men to shoot at a mark. Hopkins blazed away at a dead tree with a charge of birdshot. The braves were amazed and puzzled to find the tree full of holes.

Later, for supper, Massasoit brought in two large fish he had shot with his bow and arrows, but these did not go far among forty Indians. Their chief amusement was gambling and they wagered with one another for skins and knives.

The Englishmen spent another miserable night fighting fleas and mosquitoes in Massasoit’s lodge. Although the Chief begged them to stay, they left at dawn the next morning. They had eaten only a little fish in two nights and a day and had had hardly any sleep. They were glad to be returning to Plymouth.

(August 1621)

The Billingtons had been shuffled into the
Mayflower
company at London and were one of the profanest families in Plymouth. John Billington had refused to obey the orders of Captain Standish and had used some very bad language. As a punishment, he had been forced to spend a number of unpleasant hours on public display, with his neck and his heels tied together.

His two sons, John and Francis, were a wild and vagrant pair. Francis had gone into the gun room of the
Mayflower
as she lay in Provincetown Harbor, and had found a loaded musket, which he fired off. As there were powder barrels about and one was open, it was a miracle that the ship had not been blown out of the water. Later in Plymouth the boys had been strictly forbidden to go to the
woods. Of course, Francis took the very first opportunity to explore the forest.

From the top of a high hill, where he had climbed a tree, he caught a glimpse of shining waters in the west. When he returned, he reported he had seen the western ocean. He and one of the sailors went inland for three miles and found the “ocean” to be two large fresh-water lakes, out of which flowed the town brook. The lakes were full of fish and wild fowl. Folks said that Francis had made a valuable discovery. The lakes were called Billington’s Sea.

Again the Billingtons stirred up Plymouth. John Junior disappeared in the forest. It was rumored that he had been stolen by Indians. At first some people said that they felt sorry for the Indians, but after five days, the village was very alarmed. A lost child was everybody’s business and a search party was organized. Ten of the stoutest men went down the Cape in the shallop to search among the Indians. After a heavy storm, they put in for the night at Cummaguid Harbor (Barnstable Harbor).

The next morning the boat was left aground at low tide. Shoreward the searchers could see a party of Indians hunting for lobster. From them they learned, through Squanto, that John Junior was safe among the Indians at Nauset (Eastham). The braves invited them ashore to share their lobster breakfast, then took them to their chief
sachem whose name was Ivanough. He was the handsomest and most courteous Indian the Pilgrims had ever met.

As the Indians crowded around them, an old woman pushed forward to see the white men. She was so withered and wrinkled that they took her to be at least a hundred years old. She tottered forward and peered closely in their faces. Suddenly she burst into a loud wailing and began weeping bitterly.

After the hubbub had quieted somewhat, Squanto explained that the old woman had once had three sons. They had gone aboard Hunt’s trading vessel and had been carried off and sold in Spain, even as Squanto himself had been. Ever since, the mother had grieved, for she knew she would never see them again.

Captain Standish said, “Hunt is a bad man of whom the English are ashamed. We would not do such a thing for all the furs in the country.” He tried to comfort the poor woman with some trinkets, which seemed to please her.

There was now hope that they would soon find young Billington alive among the Indians. It was again low tide when they reached Nauset. Darkness prevented them from entering the harbor, so Squanto and Ivanough were sent with a message to Aspinet, Sachem of Nausets, saying that the English had come to seek the lost boy.

Soon a band of the Nauset Indians came down
to the shore and waded out to the grounded shallop. They urged the English to bring the boat ashore.