CHAPTER XXXI.
A POT OF BROTH.
Yes, a Pot of Broth, and one more classic than any black broth eversupped by Spartan; more pregnant of Fate than the hell-broth compoundedby Macbeth's witches; broth in which was brewed the destiny of a greatnation, broth but for whose brewing I certainly, and you, if you be ofPilgrim strain, had never been, for in its seething liquid was dissolveda wide-spread and most powerful conspiracy that in its fruition wouldhave left Plymouth Rock a funeral monument in a field of blood.
Hardly an hour after the pinnace had landed its passengers at the Rock,and the Pamet, sullenly declining farther hospitality, had proceeded onhis way to meet Obtakiest and report his ill success, when Winslow withJohn Hampden and Hobomok entered the village from the north, sore spentwith travel and scanty food, but laden with matter of the profoundestinterest. A Council of the chiefs, including nearly all of the Mayflowermen, was immediately called together in the Common house, now usedaltogether for these assemblages and for divine worship, and firstStandish and then Winslow were called upon for their reports.
The captain's was given with military brevity.
"I have brought a hundred bushels of corn and all the men I carriedaway. The savages are no doubt disaffected, and a notoriousblood-thirsty rascal called Wituwamat, a Neponset, brought Canacum aknife wherewith to kill some one, and I fancy 't is myself; but thoughhe impudently delivered both knife and message in my presence, he sowrapped up his meaning in new and strange phrases, that I could make butlittle of it. Perhaps Master Winslow can read my riddle as well as tellhis own story."
"Methinks I can, Captain," replied Winslow pleasantly; and then insmooth and polished phrase bearing such resemblance to Standish's roughand brief utterances as a rapier doth to a battle-axe, the future GrandCommissioner narrated how he had found Massasoit as it seemed alreadydying, for he could neither see, nor swallow either medicine or food.
The sachem's wigwam was so crowded with visitors that the white mencould scarcely edge their way in, and around the bed circled the powahsat their incantations, "making," said Winslow, "such a hellish noise asdistempered us that were well, and was therefore unlike to ease him thatwas sick."
This ended, and about half the guests persuaded to withdraw, the dyingchief was with difficulty made to understand who were his visitors, andfeebly groping with his hand he faintly murmured,--
"_Winsnow, keen Winsnow?_" (Is it you Winsnow?) To which Winslow gentlyreplied, grasping the cold hand,--
"It is Winslow who is come to see you, sachem."
"I shall never see thee again, Winsnow," muttered the dying man, andthose standing by explained that the sight had left his eyes some hoursbefore.
But Winslow, after patiently repeating over and over the message ofsympathy and friendship delivered him by the governor, produced a littlepot of what he calls a confection of many comfortable conserves, andwith the point of his knife inserted a portion between the sick man'steeth.
"It will kill him! He cannot swallow," declared the favorite wife, whostood chafing her lord's hands; but presently as the conserve, preparedby Doctor Fuller and of rare virtue, melted, it trickled down thepatient's throat, who presently whispered, "More!" and Winslow wellpleased administered several doses. Then, finding the mouth whosemuscles had now relaxed, foul with fever, this courtly and haughtygentleman, this necessity of the Lord Protector of England, this GrandCommissioner of the future, with his own hands performed a nurse'sloathly work, and ceased not until the sachem, refreshed, relieved,rescued from death, was able to ask for drink, when Hampden preparedsome of the confection with water, and Winslow administered it. Allnight this work went on, and when morning broke, the sick man could seeand hear and swallow as well as ever he could, and his appetitereturning he demanded broth such as he had tasted at Plymouth.
Now that especial broth was a delicious compound of Priscilla'scompounding, and Winslow knew no more of its recipe than you or I do,nor were any materials such as should go to the making of white man'sbroth at hand. Worst of all, Winslow had never taken note or share inculinary labors, for Susanna was a notable housewife and had both menand maids at her command; but a willing mind is a powerful teacher, andnot only Winslow the man, was full of Christian charity, but Winslow thestatesman desired intensely that Massasoit should remain sachem of thePokanokets, instead of making way for Corbitant, who had once declaredhis enmity to the white men, and had only been put down by the stronghand.
So Winslow leaving his patient for a moment went into the fresh air,both to revive himself and to write a hasty note, begging Doctor Fullerto send not only some medicine suited to the case, but a pair ofchickens, and a recipe for making them into broth, with such othermaterial as might be needed.
Fifty miles of forest lay between Sowams and Plymouth, but a swiftrunner was dispatched at once with the missive, and the promise of arich reward if he hastened his return; then Winslow turned to hisfellow-statesman who stood looking on with an amused smile.
"Master Hampden, know you how to make broth?" demanded he.
"I have no teaching but mother wit," replied Hampden. "And you arericher in that than I."
"Nay then--here Pibayo, is that thy name?"
"Ahhe," replied the squaw modestly.
"Thou hast corn in store?"
"Ahhe," again replied the woman, and Winslow making the most of hislittle stock of Indian words directed her to bruise some of the maize inher stone mortar, and meantime calling for one of the egg-shaped earthenstew-pans used by the natives, he half filled it with water, and settledit into the hot ashes of the open air fire. The maize ready, he winnowedit in his hands, blowing away the husks and chaff, and poured the restinto the boiling water.
"So far well," remarked he gayly to Hampden; "but what next? I rememberin the garden of our home at Droitwich there was a gay plot of goldenbloom that my mother called broth marigolds, but we shall hardly come bysuch in this wilderness."
"Methinks there are turnips in broth," ventured Hampden.
"And there are turnips in Plymouth, but that is not here," retortedWinslow. "Come, let us see what herbs Dame Nature will afford."
A little search and some questioning showed the herbalists a goodly bushof sassafras, and Winslow, who with the rest of his generation ascribedalmost magical virtues to this plant, enthusiastically tugged up severalof its roots, and cleansing them in the brook, sliced them thinly intohis broth. Finally he added a handful of strawberry leaves, the onlygreen thing to be found, and leaving the mess to stew for a while, hestrained it through his handkerchief, and presented it to his patientwho eagerly drank a pint of it.
Perhaps there really is magic in sassafras, perhaps the child of naturethrove upon this strictly Pre-Raphaelitish composition, perhaps Indiangruel with strawberry leaves in it and strained through a pockethandkerchief is the disguise under which the Elixir Vitae masqueradesamong us; certain it is that beneath its benign influence the sachem ofthe Pokanokets revived so rapidly that when, twenty-four hours from hisdeparture, the runner arrived with the chickens and the physic, hismaster frankly threw the physic to the dogs, and handed over the fowlsto Pibayo, bidding her guard them carefully, feed them well, and orderthem to lay eggs and provide chickens for future illnesses.
So this was the fateful broth of which we spoke but now, and its resultswere immediate, for although Massasoit himself said nothing morethan,--
"Now I perceive that the English are my friends and love me, and while Ilive I will never forget this kindness that they have showed me," he ina private conclave with some of his most trusted pnieses solemnlycharged Hobomok with a message for Winslow, only to be delivered howeveras upon their return they came within sight of Plymouth. This message,to hear which the Council had been convened, was to the effect that theNeponsets had fully determined to fall upon the Weymouth settlers andcut them off root and branch so soon as two of them, who wereship-carpenters, had completed some boats they were now building to theorder of the Indians.
The for
ty braves of the Neponset tribe were fully equal to this task,and if the Plymouth Colony would remain neutral they had no desire toinjure them; but knowing full well that they would not, and havingmoreover a superstitious dread of Standish's prowess and abilities, theyhad arranged with all the tribes lying near Plymouth to join with them,and on an appointed day to massacre the entire colony.
"Ay, ay," interrupted Standish at this point of Winslow's narrative."Now do I comprehend some of the figures and parables of Wituwamat'simpudent speech, what time he delivered the knife to Canacum. The bloodyhound--well, brother, get on with thy narrative."
So Winslow told how Massasoit had been urged again and again to join theconspiracy, but never would, although his pride had been indeed sorewounded by a lying story of how the governor and captain and Winslow,his especial friend, having been told of his desperate illness, carednaught for it, not even enough to send Hobomok his own pniese to inquirefor him; and now, being undeceived, he would himself have killed theliar, whose name was Pecksuot, but on second thought left him to thewhite men whom he earnestly charged to take the matter into their ownhands, and with no warning, no parley, to go and kill Pecksuot,Wituwamat, Obtakiest, and several other ringleaders of the conspiracy,for, as he assured them most earnestly and solemnly, unless these menwere promptly and effectually dealt with, both the Weymouth colony andthemselves would be overwhelmed and massacred without mercy. Finally,the sachem added that he as Sagamore of the Pokanokets, and as it wereregent of the Massachusetts, had authority to order the punishment ofthese rebels to his expressed commands for peace, and he hereby did so.
"And very sensible and good the sachem's counsel seemeth in my ears,"remarked Standish complacently.
"Nay, Captain," replied the Elder sternly. "Men's lives are not solightly to be dealt withal. We came among these salvages to convert themto the knowledge of God, not to slaughter them."
"Meseemeth, Elder," returned Standish impatiently, "it is a question ofour lives or theirs. I should be loth to see your gray hairs dabbled inblood, and Mistress Brewster carried into captivity to drudge as theslave of a squaw."
The elder turned even paler than his wont and covered his eyes with hishand, but murmured,--
"God His will be done."
"Ay, so say I," replied the captain more gently. "But as I read HolyWrit the chosen folk were often punished for sparing their foes, butnever for laying roundly on. 'Go and smite me Amalek and spare not,' isone of many orders, and if the commander-in-chief obeyed not he wascashiered without so much as a court-martial."
Several eager voices rose in reply, but Bradford lightly tapping thetable around which the Council was gathered said decisively,--
"These matters are too large, brethren, to be thus discussed. Let eachone declare his mind soberly and briefly, and without controversy.To-morrow is the day appointed for our town meeting and annual electionof officers, and I will then lay the case before the whole, and alsowill rehearse our own conclusions. Then, the voice of the majority shalldecide the matter."
And so began the reign of "the people" in America, for this was thefirst great question to be decided since the coming of the Fortune hadso enlarged the colony that the Council was no longer composed of thewhole, as it was when the treaty with Massasoit was concluded.
Standish of Standish: A Story of the Pilgrims Page 32