CHAPTER IX
Seedtime of the First Spring
Giles Hopkins and John and Francis Billington slept in the new house,now nearly finished, on Leyden Street. Therefore it happened thatStephen Hopkins did not see his son until the morning after the recoveryof the papers.
"Well, Giles," said his father, with a smile that Giles took to bemocking, but in which the father's hidden gratification really strove toescape, "so you played a man's part with the _Mayflower_ captain, at thesame time proving yourself? I am glad to get my papers, boy, and gladthat you have shown that you had no share in their loss, but only intheir return. Henceforth be somewhat less insolent when appearances areagainst you; still better take care that appearances, facts as well, arein your favour."
"Appearances are in the eye of the on-looker," said Giles, drawinghimself up and flushing angrily, though, had he but seen it, love andpride in him shone in his father's eyes, though his tone and words werecareless, gruff indeed.
"If Dame Eliza is to be the glass through which you view me, then itmatters not what course I follow, for you will not see it straight. Nordo I care to act to the end that you may not suspect me of being fit forhanging. A gentleman's honour needs no proving, or else is proved by hissword. And whatever you think of me, I can never defend myself thusagainst my father. A father may insult his son with impunity."
"But a boy may not speak insultingly to his father with impunity, MasterGiles Hopkins," said Stephen Hopkins, advancing close to the lad withhis quick temper afire. "One word more of such nature as I just heardand I will have you publicly flogged, as you richly deserve, and as ourcommunity would applaud."
Giles bowed, his face as angry as his father's, and passed on cuttingthe young sprouts along the road with a stick he carried. And thus thetwo burning hearts which loved each other--too similar to makeallowances for each other when the way was open to theirreconciliation--were further estranged than before.
In the meantime Constance, Priscilla, and the younger girls, werestarting out, tools in hand, baskets swinging on their arms, to preparethe first garden of the colony.
"Thank--I mean I rejoice that we are not sent to work amid the graves onthe hillside," said Priscilla, altering her form of expression toconform with the prescribed sobriety.
"Oh, that is to be planted with the Indian corn, you know," saidConstance. "It grows high, and will hide our graves. Why think of that,Prissy? I want to be happy." She began to hum a quaint air of her ownmaking. She had by inheritance the gift of music, as the kindred gift oflove and taste for all beauty, a gift that should never find expressionin her new surroundings.
Presently she found words for her small tune and sang them, swinging herbasket in time with her singing and also swinging Humility Cooper's handas she walked, not without some danger of dropping into a sort of dancestep.
This is what she sang:
Over seas lies England; Still we find this wing-land; Birds and bees and butterflies flit about us here. Eastward lies our Mother, Loved as is no other, Yet here flowers blossom with the springing year.
We will plant a garden, Eve-like, as the warden Of the hope of men unborn, future of the race; Tears that we were weeping, Watering our keeping, Till we make the New World joy's own dwelling place.
Priscilla Mullins stopped short and looked with amazement on her youngercompanion.
"Did you make that song, Constance?" she demanded, being used to therhyming which Constance made to entertain the little ones.
"It made itself, Pris," laughed Constance.
"Well, I'm no judge of songs, and as to rhyming I could match cat andrat if it was put to me to do, but no more. Yet it seemeth me that is apretty song, with exactly the truth for its burden, and it trippeth assweetly as the robin whistles. Do you know, Constance, it seems to me torun more into smooth cadences than the Metrical Psalms themselves!"Priscilla dropped her voice as she said this, as if she hoped to beunheard by the vengeance which might swoop down on her.
Constance's laugh rang out merrily, quite unafraid.
"Oh, dear Prissy, the Metrical Version was not meant to run in smoothcadences!" she cried. "Do you see why we should not sing as the robinwhistles, being young and God's creatures, surely not less than thebirds? Priscilla Mullins, there is John Alden awaiting us in the veryspot where we are to work! How did he happen there, when no other man isabout?"
"He spoke to me of helping us with the first heavy turning of the soil,"said Priscilla, exceedingly red and uncomfortable, but constrained to betruthful. "Oh, Constance, never look at me like that! Can I help it thatMaster Alden is so considerate of us?"
"Sure-ly not!" declared Constance emphatically. "What about hisreturning home, Pris? He was hired but as cooper for the voyage, andwould return. Will he go, think you?"
"He seems not fully decided. He said somewhat to me of staying." PoorPriscilla looked more than miserable as she said this, yet was forced tolaugh.
"I will speak to my father and Captain Standish to get them to offer himwork a-plenty this summer, so mayhap they can persuade him to let the_Mayflower_ sail without him--next week she goes. Or perhaps you couldbring arguments to bear upon him, Priscilla! He never seemsstiff-necked, nor unbiddable." Constance said this with a great effectof innocence, as if a new thought had struck her, and Priscilla hadbarely time to murmur:
"Thou art a sad tease, Constance," before they came up with John Alden,who looked as embarrassed as Priscilla when he met Constance's dancingeyes.
Nevertheless it was not long before John Alden and Priscilla Mullinswere working together at a little distance apart from the rest, leavingConstance to dig and rake in company with Humility Cooper, ElizabethTilley, and the little girls. Thus at work they saw approaching from theend of the road that was lost in the woods beyond a small but imposingprocession of tall figures, wrapped in gaudy colored blankets, theirheads surmounted with banded feathers which streamed down their backs,softly waving in the light breeze.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear, Connie, they are savages!" whispered Damarislooking about as if wishing that a hole had been dug big enough to hideher instead of the small peas which she was planting.
"But they are friendly savages, small sister," said Constance. "See,they carry no bows and arrows. Do you know, girls, I believe this is thegreat chief Massasoit, of whom Samoset spoke, promising us his visitsoon, and that with him may be Squanto, the Indian who speaks English!Don't you think we may be allowed to postpone the rest of the work tosee the great conference which will take place if this is Massasoit?"
"Indeed, Constance, my back calls me to cease louder than any savage,"said Humility, her hand on her waist, twisting her small body from sideto side. "I have been wishing we might dare stop, but I couldn't bringmyself to say so."
"You have not recovered strength for this bending and straining work, mydear," said Constance in her grandmotherly way. "Priscilla, Priscilla!John Alden, see!" she called, and the distant pair faced her with avisible start.
She pointed to the savages, and Priscilla and John hastened to her,thinking her afraid.
"Do you suppose it may be Massasoit and Squanto?" Constance asked atonce.
"Let us hope so," said John Alden, looking with eager interest at theIndians. "We hope to make a treaty with Massasoit."
"Before you sail?" inquired Constance, guilelessly.
"Why, I am decided to cast my lot in with the colony, sweet Constance,"said John, trying, but failing, to keep from looking at Priscilla.
"Pris?" cried Constance, and waited.
Priscilla threw her arms around Constance and hid her face, crying onher shoulder.
"My people are all dead, Connie, and I alone survive of us all on the_Mayflower_! Even my brother Joseph died; you know it, Connie! Do youblame me?" she sobbed.
"Oh, Prissy, dear Prissy!" Constance laughed at this piteous appeal."Just as though you did not find John Alden most likeable when we weresailing and no one had yet died! And just a
s though you had to explainliking him! As though we did not all hold him dear and long to keep himwith us! John Alden, I never, never would sit quiet under such insult!You funny Priscilla! What are you crying for? Aren't you happy? tell methat!"
"So happy I must cry," sobbed Priscilla, but drying her eyesnevertheless. "Do you suppose those savages see me?"
"I am sure of it," declared Constance. "Likely they will refuse to makea treaty with white men whose women act so strangely! My father is goingto be as glad of your treaty with Priscilla as of the savage chief'streaty, an it be made, Master Alden."
"What is it? What's to do, dear John Alden?" clamoured Damaris, whonever spoke to John without the caressing epithet.
The young man swung her to his shoulder, and kissed the soil-stainedhand which the child laid against his cheek.
"I shall marry Priscilla and stay in Plymouth, not go back to England atall! Does that please you, little maid?" he cried, gaily.
Damaris scowled at him, weighing the case.
"If you like me best," she said doubtfully.
"Of a certainty!" affirmed John Alden, for once disregarding scruples."Could I swing up Priscilla on my shoulder like this, I ask you? Why,she's not even a little girl!"
And confiding little Damaris was satisfied.
By this time the band of savages had advanced to the point of the roadnearest to where the girls and John Alden were working.
"We must go to greet them lest they find us remiss. We do not know theworkings of their minds," said John Alden, striding down toward them,followed by the somewhat timorous group of grown and little girls,Damaris clinging to him, with one hand on Constance, in fearfulenjoyment of the wonderful sight.
"Welcome!" said John Alden, coming across the undergrowth to where thesavages awaited him. "If you come in friendship, as I see you do,welcome, my brothers."
"Welcome," said an Indian, stepping somewhat in advance. "We come infriendship. I am Squanto who know your race. I have been in England; Ihave seen the king. I am bring you friendship. This is Massasoit, thegreat chief. You are not the great white chief. He is old a little. Takeus there."
"Gladly will I take you to our governor, who is, as you say, much olderthan I, and to our war chief, Myles Standish, and to the elders of ournation," said John Alden. "Follow me. You are most welcome, Massasoit,and Squanto, who can speak our tongue."
The singular company, the girls in their deep bonnets to shade them fromthe sun, the Indians in their paint and gay nodding feathers, thechildren divided between keen enjoyment of the novelty and equally keenfear of what might happen next, with John Alden the only white man, camedown into Plymouth settlement, not yet so built up as to suggest thename.
Governor Carver was busied with William Bradford over the records of thecolony, from which they were making extracts to dispatch to England inthe near sailing of the _Mayflower_. John Alden turned to ElizabethTilley.
"Run on, little maid, and tell the governor and elders whom we bring,"he said.
Elizabeth darted into the house, earning a frown from the governor forher lack of manners, but instantly forgiven when she cried:
"John Alden and we who were working in the field are bringing YourExcellency the Indian chief Massasoit, and Squanto, who talks to us inEnglish wonderful to hear, when you look at his feathers and paintedface! And John Alden sent me on to tell you. And, there are otherIndians with them. And, oh, Governor Carver, shall I tell the women inthe community house to cook meat for their dinner, or shall it be justour common dinner of porridge with, maybe, a smoked herring to sharpenus? For this the governor should order, should not he?"
Governor Carver and William Bradford smiled. As a rule the youngermembers of the community over which these elder, grave men were set,feared them too much to say anything at which they could smile, but thegreatness of this occasion swept Elizabeth beyond herself.
"I think, Mistress Elizabeth Tilley, that the matrons will not need thegovernor's counsel as to the feeding of our guests," said GovernorCarver kindly. "Tell Constantia Hopkins to bid her father hither at hisearliest convenience. I shall ask him to make the treaty with Massasoit,together with Edward Winslow, if it be question of a treaty, as I hope."
Elizabeth sped back and met the approaching guests. She dropped afrightened curtsy, not knowing the etiquette of meeting a band offriendly savages. But as they paid no attention to her, her manners didnot matter, and realizing this with relief she joined Constance at therear of the procession and delivered her message.
"Porridge indeed!" exclaimed Mistress Hopkins when Elizabeth Tilleyrepeated to her the governor's comment on her own suggestion as to thedinner for the Indian guests. "Porridge is well enough for us, but wewill set the savages down to no such fare, but to our best, lest theyfall to and eat us all some night in the dark of the moon, when we areasleep and unprotected! Little I thought I should be cooking for wildred men in an American forest when I learned to make sausage in myfather's house! But learn I did, and to make it fit for the king, so itshould please the savages, though what they like is beyond my knowledge.Sausage shall they have, and whether or no they will take to griddlecakes I dare not say, but it's my opinion that men are men, civilized orwild, and never a man did I see that was not as keen set on griddlecakes as a fox on a chicken roost. It will be our part to feed thesesavages well, for, as I say, men are men, wild or English, and if youwould have a man deal well by you make your terms after he hath welleaten. Thus may your father and Elder Brewster get a good treaty fromthese painted creatures. Get out the flour, Constantia, and stir up thebatter. Humility and Elizabeth, fetch the jar of griddle fat. PriscillaMullins, what aileth thee? Art sleep-walking? Call a boy to fetch woodfor the hearth, and fill the kettle. Are you John-a-Dreams, and is thisthe time for dreaming?"
"It's John-dream at least, is it not, Prissy?" whispered Constance,pinching the girl lightly as she passed her on her way to do her shareof her step-mother's bidding.
Later Constance went to summon the guests to the community house fortheir dinner. They came majestically, escorted by the governor, ElderBrewster, William Bradford, Stephen Hopkins, the weighty men of thecolony, with Captain Standish in advance, representing the power ofmight. What the Indians thought of these Englishmen no one could tell;certainly they were not less appreciative of the counsel of the wisethan of the force of arms, having reliance on their own part upon theirmedicine men and soothsayers.
What they thought of the white women's cooking was soon perfectlyapparent. It kept the women busy to serve them with cakes, to hold theglowing coals on the hearth at the right degree to keep the griddleheated to the point of perfect browning, never passing it to the burningpoint. The Indians devoured the cakes like a band of hungry boys, andMistress Hopkins's boasted sausage was never better appreciated on anEnglish farm table than here.
The young girls served the guests, which the Indians accepted as thenatural thing, being used to taking the first place with squaws, bothyoung and old.
The homebrewed beer which had come across seas in casks abundantly, alsomet with ultimate approval, though at first taste two or three of theIndians nearly betrayed aversion to its bitterness. There were "strongwaters" too, made riper by long tossing in the _Mayflower's_ hold, whichneeded no persuading of the Indians' palates.
After the guests had dined Giles, John, Francis, and the other olderboys, came trooping to the community house for their dinner.
When they discovered that Squanto spoke English fairly well they wereagog to hear from him the many things that he could tell them.
"Stay with us; they do not need you," they implored, but Squanto,mindful of his duties as interpreter, reluctantly left them presently.Massasoit and his other companions returned with the white men to theconclave house, which was the governor's and Elder Brewster's home.
"I go but wish I might stay a little hour," said Squanto. He wonMistress Eliza's heart, with Mistress White's, by his evidentfriendliness and desire to stay with them.
After this
Damaris and the children could not fear him, and thus at hisfirst introduction, Squanto, who was to become the friend and relianceof the colony, became what is even more, the friend of the littlechildren.
A Pilgrim Maid: A Story of Plymouth Colony in 1620 Page 11