CHAPTER XVI
THE HOUSE OF BONDAGE
IT does not become an Englishman to make a weak showing before uncladsavages; so presently Miles swallowed the sob that was fighting away up his throat, mastered the other shaky signs of his terror, andput his whole attention to keeping pace with his captors. They werenow well in among the trees, where the undergrowth, after the Indiancustom, had been thinned by fire, so between the great blackened trunksopened wide vistas, as in an English park.
To Miles each open glade looked like every other one, but the Indiansfound amid the trees a distinct trail along which they hastened, singlefile, with the tall warrior who bore Dolly in the lead. Miles keptpersistently at his heels, though the breath was short in his throat,and his whole body reeked with perspiration. The sun, all unobscuredand yellow, was climbing steadily upward, and, by the fact that itshone on the left hand, he knew that they were going southward ever,southward into the hostile country.
About mid-morning they descended a sandy slope, where pine trees grew,to a brook with a white bottom. Miles gathered his strength, and,making a little spurt ahead, flung himself down by the stream to drink;he felt cooler for the draught, but, when he dragged himself to hisfeet, he found that, after his little rest, his tired legs ached themore unbearably, so he made no objection when the Indian with the club,lifting him unceremoniously to his back, carried him dry-shod throughthe brook.
Even on the other side, Miles made no struggle to get down; it would beuseless, he judged, and then he was too worn out to tramp farther atsuch speed. He settled himself comfortably against his bearer's nakedshoulders, and offered not half so much protest as Trug, who, trottingat the Indian's side, now and again looked to his master and whinedanxiously.
As soon as he was a bit rested, Miles began to take closer note ofthe country through which they were passing,--a country of spicy pinethickets and of white dust, that powdered beneath the feet of theIndians. From his lofty perch he could pluck tufts of glossy pineneedles as they brushed under the lower branches of the trees, and,hungry as he was, he did not find them ill to chew. Presently he triedto converse with his Indian. "Tonokete naum?" he questioned. "Whithergo you?"
The savage answered in a pithy phrase, of which Miles made out onlythe word Ma-no-met. That, he had a vague remembrance of hearing the mensay, was a place somewhere to the southward; but, at least, it was notNauset, where the Indians who had fought the English lived. In quitea cheerful tone, Miles called out to Dolly their destination, and,with something of his former confidence, set himself to watch for thetown; he could not help imagining it would be a row of log cabins in aclearing, just like Plymouth.
But, for what to him seemed long hours, he saw no sign of a house, justthe monotonous sheen of the pine trees where the sun struck upon them,and the dust that burst whitely through its sprinkling of pine needles.Now and again, through the branches, he caught the glimmer of sunnywater, where some little pond lay; and once, when the trail led downinto a hollow, sand gave place to the clogging mire of a bog, and thescrub pines yielded to cedars.
The slope beyond, with its pines thickening in again, was like all therest of the wood, so like that Miles had suffered his eyes to closeagainst the weary glare and the hot dust, when a sudden note of shrillcalling made him fling up his head. They were just breasting the ridgethat had been before them, and the trees, dwindling down, gave a sightof what lay at the farther side.
Unbroken sunlight, Miles was first aware of,--sunlight dazzling fromthe hot sky, beating upward from blue water, glaring on green pinesthat spread away beyond; and then, as the dissonant calls that made hiswhole body quiver drew his eyes to the right, he saw in the stretch ofmeadow-land between the creek and the ridge a squalid group of unkemptbark wigwams. The smoke that curled upward from their cone-like summitsseemed to waver in the heat, and for an instant Miles blinked stupidlyat the smoke, because he dared not look lower where he must see thevaried company of coppery people who were flocking noisily forth fromtheir shelters.
Of a sudden, as if starting from a bad dream, he writhed out of hiscaptor's hold and dropped to his feet in the sand. The Indian's grasptightened instantly on his arm; but in any case, whatever they meant todo to him, even to kill him, it was better to walk into Manomet thanto be carried thither like a little child. Where there might be otherlads, too, it went through Miles's head, even in the midst of his sickfear.
Other boys there were, certainly, squaws and warriors too, allthronging jabbering round him, so that, with a poor hope that he atleast might prove friendly, Miles clung tight to the hand of the Indianwho had carried him. Wolfish yelp of dogs, shrill, frightened cries ofchildren, clatter of the curious squaws,--all deafened and bewilderedhim. Close about him he beheld crowding figures,--bare bodies thatgleamed in the sunlight, swarthy, grim faces, eyes alert withcuriosity,--and, overarching them all, the hot, blue sky that blindedhim.
Along with their Indian masters ran dogs, prick-eared, fox-like curs,one of which suddenly darted upon Trug. Above the chatter of thecurious folk Miles heard the currish yelp, the answering snarl; but erehe could cry out or move, the old civilized mastiff caught the savagecur by the scruff, and, shaking the life out of his mangy body, flunghim on the sand.
Miles let go the Indian's hand, and cast himself upon his dog, whilehis mind rushed back to a dreadful day in England, when Trug had slaina farmer's tike, whose owner had threatened to brain "the curst brute";people did not like to have your dog kill their dog, Miles rememberedwith terror; so, catching Trug by the collar, he buffeted his head,a punishment which the old fellow, with his tushes still gleaming,endured meekly.
The Indians, who had been pressing round him, had shrunk back a little,Miles perceived, as he paused for breath; they could not be used to bigmastiffs. "The dog will not worry you," he addressed the company in apropitiating voice. "That is, he won't worry you unless you harm Dollyand me."
They could not understand his words, he realized, but they couldunderstand gestures, so with a bold front he gripped Trug's collar,and urged the old dog, still grumbling, along with him. He walkedbravely too, with his chin high and his neck stiff, for all there wasa fluttering sensation up and down his legs. He was not afraid, heassured himself, while he pressed his hand upon Trug's warm neck forcomfort, and fixed his eyes on the tall warrior striding before him whostill bore Dolly.
Suddenly Miles perceived the press about him to give way a little, andout from amidst the people an old man came gravely toward him. He wasa tall old man, with a wrinkly face, and his dress was squalid andscanty as that of the others, but by the many beads of white bone thathung on his bare breast, Miles judged him to be the chief of Manomet,Canacum. So he made his most civil bow, though he could not keep hisknees from trembling a bit; but he looked up courageously into the oldIndian's face, and, as he did not speak first, at length politely badehim "Cowompaum sin."
He could not understand--indeed, apprehensive as he was, he scarcelyhad the wit to try to understand--what was said to him in reply, but heknew the old man took him by the hand, so in tremulous obedience hewent whither he was led.
The blue sky was all blurred out, as he passed through the opening ofone of the black wigwams; an intolerable smoky odor half choked him;and his eyes were blinded with the dimness all about him. But out ofthe dusk he heard Dolly call his name, and, stumbling toward the sound,he put his arms about his sister.
As he grew more accustomed to the dim light, he saw the old Chief,squatting on a mat at the back of the wigwam, and saw the shadowygesture that bade him sit beside him. Almost cheerfully, since heheld Dolly's hand in his, Miles obeyed; and for the moment, as Trugstretched himself at his feet, and Dolly snuggled close to his side,felt secure and whispered his sister not to fear.
There was no time to say more, for, amidst the confusion of folk thatcrowded the dusky wigwam, he now made out two squaws, who drew near,and, with their curious eyes fixed on him, set before him food--a kindof bread of the pounded maize and ears of young corn
roasted.
It did not need the Chief's gesture to bid Miles fall to; he mightbe more than a little frightened, but he was also very hungry, forit was near eight-and-forty hours since he had tasted heartier foodthan raspberries. He now ate with such good will that nothing wasleft of the victuals but the corn-cobs, and he persuaded Dolly to eattoo, though it was hard work to coax the child to lift her head fromhis shoulder. "I do not like to look on the Indians," she murmuredtearfully, between two hungry mouthfuls of corn. "I would they did notso stare at us."
They were not over-civil, Miles thought, though, after all, theyscarcely stared at their white guests more rudely than Miles himselfhad gazed at Massasoit, when the latter visited Plymouth. He mightnot have minded their staring, if there had not been so many ofthem,--squatting and lying all through the wigwam, on the floor, oron the mats, or on a broad, shelf-like couch which ran all about thelodge,--and if the bolder ones had not been curious to feel of hisshirt,--his doublet was left behind on the beach where he had taken theclams,--and of his shoes, and of Dolly's gown, though no one cared toput a hand upon the bristling and growling Trug.
They chattered a wearisome deal too, till Miles's head ached with theclamor, the squaws very shrilly, and the men in guttural tones; the oldChief seemed to be questioning the Indians who had found the childrenon the beach, but presently he turned and addressed Miles.
The boy fixed his eyes on the speaker's face and tried to understand,but, while all things about him were so strange and ominous, it washard to keep his thoughts on the hasty sounds. He did make out thatthe Chief asked him whence he came, and, answering "Patuxet," hepointed whither he judged the Plymouth plantation lay. "I should liketo go back thither," he suggested, and endeavored, with signs and hisfew poor words of the Indian language, to explain that, if they tookDolly to the settlement, the people would give them knives and beads.He started to make the same arrangement for himself, but he judged ituseless; he doubted if Master Hopkins would think him worth buying back.
But, even in Dolly's case, no one made a movement to grant Miles'srequest, and though the old Chief spoke, for an Indian, at some lengthand in a civil tone, he did not mention Patuxet nor a return thither.Miles swallowed down a lump in his throat, and said bravely to Dollythat he guessed they'd have to spend the night with the savages, butthey seemed kindly intentioned.
Through the low opening that formed the door of the wigwam he could seenow that a long, gray shadow from the pine ridge lay upon the troddensand; the afternoon must be wearing to a close. Moment by moment hewatched the shadow stretch itself out, till all was shadow and athicker dimness filled the wigwam, and on the bit of sky, which hecould see through the smoke-hole in the roof, brooded a purplish shade.It was evening in earnest, and it should be supper time, Miles toldDolly; but Dolly, resting half-asleep against his arm, made no answer.
Miles himself, for all his apprehensions, was heavy with the wearinessof the last two days, so, whatever the morrow might have in store,he was glad when, one by one, the Indians slipped away like shadows,and he judged it bedtime. He and his sister were to sleep on thecouch-like structure by the wall, he interpreted the Chief's gestures,so willingly he bade Dolly and Trug lie down; then stretched himselfbeside them. A comfortable resting place it was, very springy and softwith skins; but, ere Miles could reassure Dolly and settle himself forthe night, Trug began to growl, and the great couch to groan, as whatseemed an endless family of Indians cast themselves down alongside them.
"I--I wish I were home in my own bed," Dolly protested, with a stifledsob.
Miles hushed her, in some alarm lest the savages might not approveof people who cried; but his Indian bedfellows never heeded Dolly'stears, for they were lulling themselves to sleep by singing in a high,monotonous strain that drowned every other noise. After the littlegirl was quieted, they still droned on, and, when they were at lastsilent, there sounded the notes of swarms of mosquitoes that torturedMiles, for all he was so tired, into semi-wakefulness.
A snatch of feverish slumber once and again, and then, of a sudden, hewas aware of the round moon peering in at him through the smoke-hole.That same light would now be whitening the quiet fields of Plymouth,and slipping through the little windows across the clean floor ofMaster Hopkins's living room; Miles remembered just how the patch oflight rested on the wall of his own chamber.
He sat up on his comfortless bed and hid his face against his knee."I wish I hadn't run away; I wish I were home--were home," he groanedaloud. But, save for the heavy snoring of the Chief of Manomet and hiswarriors, he got no answer.
Soldier Rigdale: How He Sailed in the Mayflower and How He Served Miles Standish Page 16