Standish of Standish: A Story of the Pilgrims
Page 3
CHAPTER II.
THE LAUNCH OF THE PINNACE.
"Mary! Mary Chilton! Maid Mary mine!" called Priscilla Molines in herclear bird-voice, as she ran down the steps leading to the principalcabin. "Come on deck and see the launch of the pinnace! The carpenterscall her fit for use if not finished, and the men have gone ashore tolaunch her. Where art thou, poppet!"
"Here," replied a gentler and sweeter voice, as Mary Chilton cameforward, a long gray stocking dangling from her hands, and stood in aslant ray of sunshine which lighted her golden hair to a glory, andshowed the pure tints of her May-bloom face and clear blue eyes; alovely English face in its first fresh rapture of morning beauty.
"Right merrily will I come, Priscilla, if there be aught to see,"continued she, throwing down the stocking which she was knitting for herfather. "Truly my eyes ache with staring at nothingness."
"Well, there's a trifle this side of nothingness on the beach at thisminute," retorted Priscilla, pinching her friend's ear. "Men call itGilbert Winslow."
"Hush, hush, Priscilla!" whispered Mary, with a scared look toward hermother's cabin. "If anybody heard such folly! And Mistress White alreadytells my mother that we two are over-light in our carriage andconversation."
"Mistress White"--began Priscilla sharply, but ended the exclamationwith a saucy laugh and said instead, "Yes, truly as thou sayest, my May,mine eyes ache with gazing upon nothingness and my tongue aches withspeaking naught but wisdom. It is out of nature for young maids to be asstaid as their elders, and methinks I do not care to be. Let us be youngwhile we have youth, say I."
She looked perilously pretty as she arched her brows and pouted her ripelips, and Mary looked at her in loving admiration, while she answeredsagely,--
"You and yours are French, Priscilla, and I am all English like myforbears; so thou mayst well be lighter natured than I--I mean no harm,dear."
"No harm is done, dear mother in Israel," replied Priscilla halfmockingly, and seizing Mary's hand she led her on deck, where many ofthe women and children were collected, watching the preparations onshore for the launch of the pinnace, which, much strained by bad stowagebetween decks, had needed about a fortnight's work done upon her beforeshe was fit for service.
"They only wait for her to set forth on a second exploration," saidPriscilla confidentially; "and a little bird sang in my ear that theywould go to-morrow."
"What little bird?" asked Mary curiously; but before Priscilla couldreply another voice interposed; it was that of Bridget Tilley, who hadcome on deck to seek her daughter Elizabeth, and now sharply inquired,--
"Another expedition, say you? And my goodman scarce brought back fromdeath's door, whither the first jaunt led him! Nay, now, 't is notright, 't is all one as murder, to hale dying men out of their beds andinto that wilderness. No blessing will follow such work, and I'll cryupon the governor or the captain or the elder to stop it!"
"What is it, Mistress Tilley? Any wrong that I can help set right?"asked a sweet voice, and Bridget turned toward the speaker with asomewhat more subdued manner, lowering her voice as she said,--
"Thank you kindly, Mistress Standish, and God be praised that you can beon deck; but my matter is this," and again she poured out her anxietiesand her fears, until Rose Standish, a fair white rose now, and tremblingin the shrewd autumn air so soon to scatter her petals and bear the purefragrance of her life down through the centuries, until men to-day loveher whom they never knew, leaned wearily against the bulkhead andsaid,--
"Rest easy, dear dame. Thou 'rt all in the right, and it behooves us toprotect our lords from their own rash courage, just as it befits theircourage to protect us against salvages and wild beasts. I will whisperin my husband's ear that Master Tilley is all unfit to carry out his ownbrave impulses, and I will conspire with Mistress Carver and MistressBradford, and, above all, with our dear mother, the elder's wife, thateach shall make petition to her lord to see that no sick or overborneman be allowed to adventure himself on the expedition. Will that satisfythee, dame?"
"Right well, and you are all one with the saints we used to honor,though we do know better now."
"'T is the most comfortable promise I've heard in many a day, dearMistress Standish," cried Priscilla vivaciously. "And well do I believethat the whispers of the wives are more weighty than the shouts of thehusbands. I've never proved it myself, being but a maid; yet I have erenow marked how the prancing of the noblest steed is full deftly checkedby a silken rein."
"It were well if a rein were put upon thy tongue, girl," severelyinterposed a comely matron sitting near. "Thou 'rt over forward for thyyears, Priscilla. Shamefastness and meekness become a maid, and whenthou knowest more thou 'lt say less."
"Thanks, Mistress White, I will try to profit by your discourse,"replied Priscilla demurely; but her tone did not satisfy the matron, whosharply rejoined,--
"See that thou do, Mistress Malapert, or I'll ask the elder to deal withthee. Here he is now."
And, in fact, Elder Brewster, who had caught the tone of MistressWhite's voice, drew near to the group, saying pleasantly, "A goodlysight yonder, is it not? And how well our strong fellows set theirshoulders to the toil! What shall we call the pinnace when she islaunched, Mistress White?"
"Methinks Discretion would be a good name, Elder," replied the lady witha glance at the two girls. "Surely, we have room for it in our company."
"Truth, my daughter, and yet to my mind Charity is a sweeter name, andone more likely to float us over troubled waters." And the elder'spleasant smile disarmed his words of all sting. "Priscilla," continuedhe, turning to the girl, "I hear that thy father keeps his bed to-day,and thy mother is but poorly."
"Indeed, sir, they are both in evil case," replied Priscilla sadly."Neither of them has stomach for such food as is at hand, and so theyweaken daily. John Alden shot some little birds yesterday, and I madebroth of them, but, saving that, my mother has taken no meat for days."
"I will go and visit them," said the elder, and forgetting the launch hehad come up to see, he went at once.
"See! See! There she goes!" cried Elizabeth Tilley, as the great boatslid gracefully down her ways to the water, dipped her bows deeply, andfinding her level rode upon an even keel.
"There she goes!" echoed Constance Hopkins and Remember Allerton, whowith Elizabeth Tilley constituted what may be called the rosebuddivision of the Pilgrim girls, all glowing in the freshness of earlyyouth, all comely, strong, and vivacious. Priscilla Molines and MaryChilton with Desire Minter, a distant relative and charge of GovernorCarver's, made another little group of older girls, and then came theyoung matrons of whom there were many, while Mistress Brewster in thedignity of middle life was the recognized head and guide of all.
"Yes, there she goes," cried Priscilla, clapping her hands and dancingupon her slender feet. "And Mary," continued she, dropping her voice toa whisper, "it was Captain Standish who gave that last mighty shove"--
"Nay, it was John Alden," interrupted Mary innocently.
"I tell thee, girl, it was the captain. John Alden is ever at his elbowand striving to imitate him, but our captain is still the leader, and Ido honour a man who can think as well as do, and act as well as talk. Oftalkers we have enow, the dear knows; Master Winslow and Master Allertoncan so argue that they would force you to swear black was white and themoon a good Dutch cheese an they chose, and they can lay out workmarvelously well for others to carry out, but I mark that their ownhands abide in their pockets for the most part. Then there are plenty ofstrong arms with no head-pieces, like John Alden and your good friendGilbert Winslow and John Howland and"--
"Nay, nay, Priscilla, thou shalt not wrong good men so," interruptedMary, her fair face coloring a little. "The leaders aye must lead, andthe younger and simpler aye must follow in every community, and I marknot that those you flout for speaking so well fail of their share in thelabor, nor do I think John Alden or the rest would do well to thrusttheir advice upon their betters. At all rates, yon boat had not sliddown s
o merrily if John Alden had not put his shoulder to the work."
"Yea, put his shoulder where the captain laid his hand," retortedPriscilla with her mocking laugh, and then putting her arm around Mary'sshoulders, she added affectionately,--
"What a wise little woman thou art, ever looking at both sides of thematter while I see but one! And in truth, perhaps, it is better thatthere be these varied excellences, so that all comers may be suited,just as thou art fond of porridge while I would liefer have soup."
"And art a rare hand at compounding it," replied Mary admiringly. "HowDesire Minter smacked her lips over the dish thou gavest her the otherday."
"That poor Desiree, as my gossip Jeanne De la Noye used to call her! Ilike well to give her some tasty bit, for it makes her so happy at solittle trouble to myself, since I am ever cooking."
"Dost thou really like cooking, Priscilla; or dost thou do it becausethou ought, as I do?" asked Mary, who hated the culinary art, and yetwas called upon to practice it, as were all young women of the day.
"Oh, I love it," replied Priscilla, with enthusiasm. "My mother and mygrandmother and all my aunts were notable cooks, and in the good olddays in France before I was born, they say my grandmother's pates andconserves and ragouts were famous all through Lyons, where mygrandfather and his father before him were great silk manufacturers withplenty of men and maids and money at their command."
"Ah, Priscilla, thou 'rt hankering after the flesh-pots again! RememberLot's wife!" and Mary laughed, but gently stole a hand into that ofPriscilla, who pressed it tenderly as she replied,--
"Lot's wife spoiled all her cookery with salt, and I'll at least distillnone from mine own eyes. How shall I make Robert Cartier know that Iwant him to come aboard and help me with my father's supper?"
"Beckon to John Alden to send him," retorted Mary promptly. Priscillaturned and fixed her long dark eyes in mock bewilderment upon theother's face.
"And why is it easier to beckon to John Alden than to Robert Cartier,thou foolish girl?" asked she.
"Because Robert is only thy father's servant, and John is thine own andever waiting thy command," replied Mary demurely, and Priscilla's richcolor mounted to her brow as she laughingly retorted,--
"Now, maid Mary, that quip was more like me than thee, and I'll havenone of it. 'T is for thee to carry the honey-bag to mollify the stingsmy naughty tongue must aye inflict. I would I were not so waspish, Marymine!"
"Thou 'rt naught but what is dear and lovely, and I care for thee beyondany man that ever walked, saving my father," cried Mary, pressing closeto her friend's side.
"Then will I be jealous of Master Chilton," murmured Priscilla, theteasing mood again rising to the surface. "For I'll have no rival in thyheart, save only Gilbert Winslow, whom I hope not to oust."
"See, there is John Alden steadfastly regarding us," cried Mary, alittle annoyed. "Point thy finger at Robert as he stands staring at theboat, and then beckon. My word for it, John will read the signalaright."
"Why, then, so be it, and if Dame White sees me I'll swear 'twas thee,Mary," and Priscilla half proudly, half shyly made the signal, which wasat once understood and acted upon by Alden, who, truth to tell, seldomlost sight of Priscilla when in her company. Cartier receiving themessage waded after a boat just leaving the beach, and came aboarddripping wet, an imprudence so common among the younger men of thePilgrims on that flat coast as to become a serious factor in theterrible mortality which was to sweep off half their number within a fewmonths.