Soldier Rigdale: How He Sailed in the Mayflower and How He Served Miles Standish

by Beulah Marie Dix

  CHAPTER XIX

  FALLEN AMONG FRIENDS

  AT last the shallop had put off from the Nauset shore. The babel ofclamorous Indians sank down, and, in its stead, sounded the thud ofmuskets laid by and the clatter of sweeps fitting to the rowlocks.Sharp English commands Miles heard too, but still he did not raise hishead, till some one lifted him to his feet.

  All about him gleamed the hard whiteness of moonlight, under which theidle sail looked vast and ghostly and the faces of the men around himseemed unfamiliar. But he heard Captain Standish's voice: "Come, Miles,clamber forward with you. Your sister is fair sick for the sight ofyou."

  He saw it was the Captain who had lifted him up, and he caught the armthat held him. "I'm sorry, sir, oh, I'm mighty sorry; I won't fightanother duel nor run away," he whispered huskily.

  "Don't cry, my man," the Captain spoke hurriedly. "It's well over andyou're safe with us now. Here, Gilbert Winslow, help him forward; and,Stephen Hopkins, draw you nearer; I've a word to say."

  Dumbly obedient, Miles clambered forward over the thwarts. YoungGilbert Winslow, one of the rowers, put out a hand to steady him, and,to the boy's thinking, grasped his arm roughly. They need not beginpunishing him at once, he reflected miserably; he was sorry for allhe had done, but when he tried to tell them so, even the Captain hadthought him whimpering because he had been afraid.

  Then for a moment he forgot his wretchedness, as he reached the forwardthwart where Alden sat, and from beside him heard Dolly's voicepipe up. Miles slipped upon the reeling bottom of the shallop, and,stumbling closer to his sister, put his arms about her. "You're here,Dolly?" he asked, in a whisper, half afraid to let his voice sound out."You're safe, you and Trug?"

  Such a ragged, tousled Dolly as she was, half hidden in the folds ofAlden's cloak, and almost too weary even to talk. She was quite safe,though, she found energy to tell him, and Trug was there behind her,tied in the peak of the bow. He was sore with his bruises, but GoodmanCooke said he would live, for all that. The Indians of Manomet had doneneither of them further hurt, but had sent them to the Sachem Iyanough,who was a good man and had delivered them to the English that verymorning. So it was all well, but for the poppet.

  "Did they take it from you?" questioned Miles, mindful of his ownexperience with the whittle.

  "N--no," answered Dolly, beginning to sniffle. "I--I did give her toa little maid at Manomet. Because she ground the corn and fetchedwood all day, and she had no poppet. I gave it to her, and--and thebad old Chief, he took her away from the little maid--he did tear herup and make red cloth of her--and he tied her in his hair, my poppetPriscilla." Dolly curled herself up against Alden's arm and weptwearily.

  "Very like Priscilla Mullins can make you another," the young mansuggested kindly, though his face, in the moonlight, looked amused.

  "'Twould not be she," wailed Dolly, provoked at such stupidity, andwent on to cry as only a very tired little girl can cry.

  But Miles, quite tearless, leaned back against Alden's knees, and,without daring to look at the men about him, gazed up into the shimmerysky. All the time, though, he was conscious that yonder in the sternsat Master Stephen Hopkins, and he thought of him and tormented himselfwith wondering what punishment he would inflict till he felt it almosta relief, when at last his guardian came striding across the rowers'seats toward him.

  He came, indeed, but to help Alden unfurl the sail, for they were nowwell out from shore, and the breeze, though of the faintest, was worthcalling to their aid. But when that task was done, Master Hopkins sethimself down on the thwart by Alden, and presently spoke to Miles, whostarted guiltily, for all nothing worse was said than, "Take my cloakhere, Miles Rigdale, and wrap it about you."

  It was chilly, now they were out on the open bay, as Miles, in historn shirt, knew, but, without looking at the speaker, he shrank away,muttering: "I wish it not. I am not cold, sir."

  "Take the cloak as I bid you," Master Hopkins repeated, in as stern avoice as if it were a dose of poison he were pressing upon Miles. "Letme have no more of this sullenness."

  He spoke so sharply and loudly that every one must hear; Miles thoughtto feel the indignant eyes of the company turn toward him. "I--I wantto go up in the bow beside Trug," he whispered Alden, and, eager to putas much space as possible between himself and Master Hopkins, clamberedover the thwart into the peak. There he crouched close to the batteredold dog, who licked his hands, and lay so covered by the cloak that hecould see only the blank moon rolling through the blue-black sky.

  But, though he did not look on his companions, he could hear theirvoices distinctly. Alden it was who spoke first: "We are not headingfor home the quickest way, are we, sir? We follow the shore--"

  "'Tis that the Captain holds it best that we stand in to land and getfresh water," Hopkins made answer. "After that we are to hasten ourshortest way unto Plymouth. For there's ill news astir at Nauset."

  "What might that be?"

  "They tell us the Narragansetts, that fierce tribe to southward, haverisen and spoiled some of Massasoit's men and taken the King himselfprisoner."

  There was an instant's silence, during which Miles listenedstrainingly, then Alden spoke in a different, slow tone: "And afterthey have dealt with Massasoit, should they attack Plymouth because itis allied to him--"

  "The pick of our fighting men are here in the shallop," Hopkinsanswered deliberately.

  Miles felt something press against his legs as he lay, heard a sleepywhimper from Dolly. "Let your sister rest by you, Miles," spoke Alden,bending over him. "I'm going to aid at the sweeps."

  "And you, Miles," added Master Hopkins, "were best give your thought topraying unto God that your mad prank may not prove the means of drawingthe men from Plymouth at her greatest need."

  Once more there was silence, save for the steady creak, creak of theoars against the thole-pins, and now and again the flap of the listlesssail. Miles lay quite still and stared at the round moon, yet didnot see it, for before his eyes loomed only the unguarded cottages ofPlymouth, white under the moonbeams, and, crawling toward them from theblack pine hills, the slinking forms of the Narragansett warriors. Evenwhen he shut his eyes and, at last, for sheer exhaustion, slumbered,he saw in his dreams the sleepy little settlement, all unconscious ofthe danger crowding close upon it, and the horror of this that his ownfolly had made possible startled him into wakefulness again.

  He saw the mast sway blackly against the dull heavens, whence the moonhad dropped, and, with something of comfort in their mere presence,heard the men grumbling inaudibly, as they tugged at the sweeps. A deadchill was in the morning wind, so gladly he huddled the cloak moreclosely about him and drowsed once more. But the same vision of leapingsavages and blazing cottages burned before his eyes, till, with a halfstifled cry, he started up, as through his dreams rang an Indian whoop.

  All about him yellow sunshine rippled on the water; English voicessounded cheerily, and with them mingled the clatter of Indian tongues.So much of his dream was true, yet it could be no attack upon theshallop, for Dolly, quite unconcerned, sat gazing down at him from thenearest thwart.

  "You are to get up," she greeted him gayly. "We are at Cummaquid toeat breakfast with Sachem Iyanough; the Captain and some of the menhave gone ashore unto him, and they have sent us roast fish hither, andthere is clean bread from home. And you are to rise and eat with us,Master Hopkins says."

  At that name Miles, still half dazed with sleepiness, sprang to hisfeet. Near at hand, across the noisy blue water, gleamed the greenshores of Cummaquid, where he could see a swarm of dusky figures, andin their midst the glitter of the armored Englishmen. But nothing ofthe shore or even of the folk about him was quite real, save the voiceof Master Hopkins; Miles did not look at his face.

  Creeping into the stern sheets, as he was bidden, he choked down thefood that was given him, good bread and fish, that seemed to him galland ashes. For the men about him spoke anxiously of the need of gettingspeedily to Plymouth, till Miles, heavy with the sense of
guilt,scarcely dared stir or breathe, or even think. Only when Master Hopkinsrose from beside him did he venture so much as to shift his position;then he swung about stealthily and leaned his head upon one arm thatrested on the gunwale. He let one hand droop into the water, and,watching the ripples slip between his fingers, thought only of theirflow and fall.

  So he was still sitting, in what looked a sullen fit, when a goodcapful of wind came ruffling it along the water, and the Captain andhis squad splashed noisily from the shore. Miles heard about him theclatter of their embarkation, the creak of the hoisted sail, the briskvoices of the men, and he longed to slip back to his old place inthe bow, away from them, but he durst not venture it. He stared downinto the blue water, that now began to press more swiftly through hishand, and, when he lifted his eyes, the green shore was fading in thedistance.

  With a creak of the cordage, the shallop came about on a fresh tack,so only dazzling water that made his eyes ache now lay before Miles.Through the rents in his shirt he felt the sun hot on his bareshoulders, and involuntarily he made a restless movement. "What'samiss, Miles?" spoke the Captain's quick voice. Miles did not answer,but, feeling rebuked, sat silent, and studied the grain of the wood inthe seat on which he perched.

  But the Captain, sitting next him, began to ask him questions in acurt, matter-of-fact tone, as to what Indian villages he had entered,and whether he had noted signs of warlike preparation, to all of whichMiles answered hesitatingly, a little frightened, because the men abouthim silenced their talk to hark to him.

  Once he glanced sidewise at Standish, but the latter's brows werepuckered and his eyes preoccupied, so Miles, not knowing whether he wasworried about the savages or angry with him, looked again at his shoes.But when the Captain relapsed into grave silence, his fear grew greaterthan his shame before rebuke; so at last he plucked the Captain'ssleeve and whispered him: "Is there any chance, sir,--maybe shall wecome to Plymouth ere the Indians kill all the people?"

  "What set such a mad fancy in your head?" Standish asked, almostsharply. "There's not an Indian within six league of Plymouth. Don'tworry yourself for that, lad; you'll find the village as you left it,and all the women ready to weep over you."

  At these first comforting words he had received since he boarded theshallop, Miles plucked up heart and drew closer to Captain Standish.But speedily he took note of the anxiety that made the Captainforgetful of him, and, with a new sorrow, he told himself that to hishero he was no longer "Miles, my soldier," but a foolish boy, who,because he was little, must be spoken to gently, and not even letknow the full extent of the evil he had brought about. For, spite ofStandish's cheerful speech, he could see clearly enough that everyman in the craft was troubled and longing to reach the endangeredsettlement.

  But the wind blew lightly, in veering flaws, so the shallop must maketedious long tacks, while the hours rolled out. The heat began to gofrom the air, so Miles was glad to wrap himself in a spare cloak, asthe Captain ordered; and the sun, in the west, slipped behind grayclouds. The water darkened, and the twilight had fallen in earnest,when at last the shallop tacked in at the outer entrance of PlymouthHarbor.

  At first the thickly wooded beach point screened the shore, but, as thelittle craft rounded it, the dim hills across the harbor were visible,and there, on the greatest hill, too low for stars, Miles saw sparks oflight twinkle.

  It was as if the men in the shallop all drew breath again, and Mileshimself, forgetting his guilt and the punishment in store for him,cried joyfully: "They're safe!"

  But in a moment half the joy went from him, for, when Alden, inthe bow, fired his musket thrice, with startling reechoes, MasterHopkins told him grimly that the signal was to let the people yonderknow he had destroyed neither himself nor his sister by his sinfulfoolhardiness. Miles hung his head sorrily, and, for all CaptainStandish presently clapped him on the shoulder and bade him look howthe people flocked to the landing, did not glance up till, with asplash of oars in the quiet water, the shallop lay to, by the darkrock.

  In the thick twilight the faces of the people gathered thither couldnot be made out, but all the colony was there, Miles guessed by thebabel of voices, and, after they had lifted him ashore, he knew it wasPriscilla Mullins who hugged him undignifiedly, and he thought it wasMistress Brewster who cried when she spoke to him. But he had no timeto make certain, for just then Master Hopkins grasped him by the armand led him away up the hill to his house.

  Within the familiar living room a candle was alight, that set Milesblinking as he was brought in from the darkness, but he made outMistress Hopkins, with an anxious scowl on her brows, though, for allMiles's torn shirt, she did not scold one word, and he saw Constance,with her eyes red, and Giles, who had tramped in after him, and Doteyand Lister. "Then they didn't hang you?" Miles cried to the latter, tooweary to be civil.

  "Hang who?" asked Ned, pretty sheepishly, as his master's eyes wereupon him.

  "You said they were going to hang you--"

  "Not I, never," vowed Ned, with his face flushing, and, slouching offinto the bedroom, rattled the door to behind him.

  Miles followed him thither speedily,--he was not to be coddled bytwo soft-hearted women, Master Hopkins said,--and Giles and Doteycame too. They questioned him eagerly of his adventures, but Miles,unflattered even by such attention, would not speak of Indians or ofbirch canoes, just poured forth his woes in a weary voice upon theverge of tears: he would surely be soundly whipped, and Ned had saidthey would be hanged and they hadn't been, and if Ned hadn't said it,he wouldn't 'a' run away.

  "I am right sorry, for your sake, I was not dealt with lessmercifully," Lister said bitterly, and Miles, glancing up at him, waschecked in his lamentation; truly, Ned looked miserable, with hisface white and a noticeable limp in his gait, and Dotey, too, had onehand bandaged, but, most awe-inspiring of all, Miles noted, as Nedunfastened his shirt, a vivid red mark about the base of his neck."What was it they did to you, then?" he asked, but neither of theEdwards seemed eager to explain.

  "They just tied 'em neck and heels," Giles volunteered presently, ashe began undressing. "And before they'd kept them so an hour, theypromised amendment and--Hey, Ed Dotey, make Ned cease throwing shoes atme."

  With a wrangling word or two peace was restored, and the young men tookthemselves to rest; Miles noted that the ex-duellists drew the line atsharing one bed, for Ned Lister lay down beside him, while Giles andDotey slept together.

  How quiet and clean it seemed in the little chamber, Miles thought;and how blessed it was that the Indians had not fallen on Plymouth!Involuntarily he sighed for very peace and happiness, then lost allsense of comfort at the recollection of the morrow and the punishmentdeferred that yet would surely come. "Ned, O Ned," he began, and shookLister, who was lying with his head between his arms. "Tell me, Ned,how greatly does it hurt to be tied neck and heels?"

  "Um-m-m!" groaned the exasperated Lister. "Miley, if you say 'neck andheels' to me again, I'll wake up and thrash you."