Part 16 (2/2)
”Nay, nay, Master Jones,” interposed Carver hastily, as the angry man made toward the door. ”Let us not part thus, especially in view of thy great kindness toward us, for which, in good sooth, we are more grateful than we have yet expressed. Let pa.s.s the over curious queries we have ventured, and sit up at the table for a little meat and drink, such as it may be. Here is some broiled fish, and here some clams”--
”I care not for eating, having finished mine own supper but now,”
grumbled Jones sinking back into Carver's arm-chair; ”still if you'll broach yon runlet of beer I'll taste a mug on 't, for my throat is as dry as a chimbley.”
”The beer is for our sick folk who crave it as they gather their strength,” said Carver pleasantly; ”but we have here a case of strong waters of our own, if that will serve thy turn.”
”Why, ay, 't will serve my turn better than t' other,” replied Jones drawing his hairy hand across his mouth with an agreeable smile, as he added,--
”I did but ask for the beer, thinking you who are well needed the spirits for yourselves.”
”We can spare what we need for ourselves more lightly than what we need for others,” said Carver in that grand simplicity of nature which fails to perceive the magnificence of its own impulses. And from a shelf above his head the governor took a square bottle of spirits, while Howland poured water from a kettle over the fire into a pewter flagon, and produced a sugar bason from a chest in the corner of the room. These, with a smaller pewter cup, he placed before the seaman who eagerly mixed himself a stiff dram, drank it, and prepared another, which he sipped luxuriously, as leaning back in his chair he looked slowly around the circle of his entertainers, and finally burst forth,--
”The plain truth is, there are no folk like these in any lat.i.tude I've sailed, and a man must deal with them accordingly. 'T is what I told Clarke and Coppin before I came ash.o.r.e. What men but you would give another what you want yourselves, and lacking it may find yourselves in worse case than him you help? And 't is not all chat, for still I've marked it both afloat and ash.o.r.e, and the poor wretches you've left in the s.h.i.+p will pluck the morsel from their own lips to put it to another's.
”So it is, that with all your losses, a kind of good luck aye follows you, and I shall not marvel if, in the end, you build up your colony here, and see good days when I am--well, it matters not where--I doubt me if priests or parsons know. But they who flout you or do you a churlish turn find no good luck resting on them, but rather a curse,--yea, I've marked that too. 'T is better to be friends than foes with some folk.”
”'Timeo Daneos et dona ferentes,'” quoted Winslow in the ear of Elder Brewster, who sat watching the sailor curiously, and now suddenly said,--
”And so thy s.h.i.+pmen are very ill too, Master Jones!”
”Lo you, now! I said naught of it, and how well you knew. What dost mean, Elder?”
”Naught but friendly interest like thine own,” replied the Elder gently, yet never removing that steadfast gaze, beneath which Jones fidgeted impatiently, and finally cried in a sort of desperate surrender,--
”Well, then, as well you know already, 't is that matter brought me here to-night. My men have sickened daily, and everything hath gone awry, since we bundled you and your goods ash.o.r.e a month or so agone, when some of you were fain to tarry aboard, or at least leave your stuff there, and come and go.”
”But thou wast afeard we should drink thy beer by stealth. Nay, thou saidst it,” declared Standish disdainfully.
”Well, yes, I'll not go back of saying it,” retorted Jones half abashed and half defiant. ”For where else shall you find me men who will drink water if another man hath beer where they may get it?”
”We heard from our friends on board that scurvy had broken out among the s.h.i.+pmen,” said Carver motioning Standish to hold his peace.
”Scurvy, and fever, and rheumaticks, and flux, and the foul fiend knoweth what beside,” replied Jones desperately. ”Now Clarke hath still been warning me that you were so sib with the saints”--
”Nay, G.o.d forbid!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Brewster.
Jones looked at him in astonishment, then nodding his head as one who yields a point he cannot understand continued: ”Well, if not the saints, whosoever you have put in their room; but Clarke says you are e'en like the warlocks of olden time who called fire out of heaven on their enemies, and it came as oft as they called; and he says Master Brewster is like some Messire Moses who dealt all manner of ill to those who crossed him; and I marked, and so did Clarke, how yester morn when I denied Bradford the beer he craved, and answered the governor in so curst a humor, three men fell ill before night, and two, who were mending, died in torment. And Clarke said, and so it seemed most like to me, that 't was you had done it, and might yet do worse; and so I would fain be friends, and I come myself to bring the beer and the meat, and I'll promise to do as much again and again; nay, I'll swear it by the toe of St. Hubert, that my mother paid gold to kiss for me or ever I was born, yea, I'll swear it, if you masters will take off the curse, and promise to say ma.s.ses, nay, nay, to say sermons and make mention of me to the Lord.”
”Knowest thou what the Apostle Peter said to one Simon Magus when he would have bought the grace of G.o.d for gold?” demanded Brewster sternly.
”Nay, I never knew any of thy folk before,” replied Jones humbly; but Winslow consulting the pacific governor with his eyes smoothly interposed,--
”Surely we will pray for thee and for thy men, Master Jones, albeit our prayers have no more weight than those of any other sinful men, and our Elder hath neither the power nor the will to bring plagues upon our enemies. There is naught of art-magic in our practices, I do a.s.sure thee, master.”
”Well, I know not; but in all honesty I'd rather be friends than foes with men like you.”
”And friends we are most heartily,” said Carver. ”Our folk on board are still mending, are they not?”
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