Part 6 (2/2)
”Oh, Prissy, dear Prissy!” Constance laughed at this piteous appeal. ”Just as though you did not find John Alden most likeable when we were sailing and no one had yet died! And just as though you had to explain liking him! As though we did not all hold him dear and long to keep him with 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 me that!”
”So happy I must cry,” sobbed Priscilla, but drying her eyes nevertheless. ”Do you suppose those savages see me?”
”I am sure of it,” declared Constance. ”Likely they will refuse to make a treaty with white men whose women act so strangely! My father is going to be as glad of your treaty with Priscilla as of the savage chief's treaty, an it be made, Master Alden.”
”What is it? What's to do, dear John Alden?” clamoured Damaris, who never spoke to John without the caressing epithet.
The young man swung her to his shoulder, and kissed the soil-stained hand which the child laid against his cheek.
”I shall marry Priscilla and stay in Plymouth, not go back to England at all! 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 road nearest to where the girls and John Alden were working.
”We must go to greet them lest they find us remiss. We do not know the workings 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 fearful enjoyment of the wonderful sight.
”Welcome!” said John Alden, coming across the undergrowth to where the savages awaited him. ”If you come in friends.h.i.+p, as I see you do, welcome, my brothers.”
”Welcome,” said an Indian, stepping somewhat in advance. ”We come in friends.h.i.+p. I am Squanto who know your race. I have been in England; I have seen the king. I am bring you friends.h.i.+p. This is Ma.s.sasoit, the great chief. You are not the great white chief. He is old a little. Take us there.”
”Gladly will I take you to our governor, who is, as you say, much older than I, and to our war chief, Myles Standish, and to the elders of our nation,” said John Alden. ”Follow me. You are most welcome, Ma.s.sasoit, and Squanto, who can speak our tongue.”
The singular company, the girls in their deep bonnets to shade them from the sun, the Indians in their paint and gay nodding feathers, the children divided between keen enjoyment of the novelty and equally keen fear of what might happen next, with John Alden the only white man, came down into Plymouth settlement, not yet so built up as to suggest the name.
Governor Carver was busied with William Bradford over the records of the colony, from which they were making extracts to dispatch to England in the near sailing of the Mayflower. John Alden turned to Elizabeth Tilley.
”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 for her lack of manners, but instantly forgiven when she cried: ”John Alden and we who were working in the field are bringing Your Excellency the Indian chief Ma.s.sasoit, and Squanto, who talks to us in English wonderful to hear, when you look at his feathers and painted face! And John Alden sent me on to tell you. And, there are other Indians with them. And, oh, Governor Carver, shall I tell the women in the community house to cook meat for their dinner, or shall it be just our common dinner of porridge with, maybe, a smoked herring to sharpen us? For this the governor should order, should not he?”
Governor Carver and William Bradford smiled. As a rule the younger members of the community over which these elder, grave men were set, feared them too much to say anything at which they could smile, but the greatness of this occasion swept Elizabeth beyond herself.
”I think, Mistress Elizabeth Tilley, that the matrons will not need the governor's counsel as to the feeding of our guests,” said Governor Carver kindly. ”Tell Constantia Hopkins to bid her father hither at his earliest convenience. I shall ask him to make the treaty with Ma.s.sasoit, together with Edward Winslow, if it be question of a treaty, as I hope.”
Elizabeth sped back and met the approaching guests. She dropped a frightened curtsy, not knowing the etiquette of meeting a band of friendly savages. But as they paid no attention to her, her manners did not matter, and realizing this with relief she joined Constance at the rear of the procession and delivered her message.
”Porridge indeed!” exclaimed Mistress Hopkins when Elizabeth Tilley repeated to her the governor's comment on her own suggestion as to the dinner for the Indian guests. ”Porridge is well enough for us, but we will set the savages down to no such fare, but to our best, lest they fall to and eat us all some night in the dark of the moon, when we are asleep and unprotected! Little I thought I should be cooking for wild red men in an American forest when I learned to make sausage in my father's house! But learn I did, and to make it fit for the king, so it should please the savages, though what they like is beyond my knowledge. Sausage shall they have, and whether or no they will take to griddle cakes I dare not say, but it's my opinion that men are men, civilized or wild, and never a man did I see that was not as keen set on griddle cakes as a fox on a chicken roost. It will be our part to feed these savages well, for, as I say, men are men, wild or English, and if you would have a man deal well by you make your terms after he hath well eaten. Thus may your father and Elder Brewster get a good treaty from these painted creatures. Get out the flour, Constantia, and stir up the batter. Humility and Elizabeth, fetch the jar of griddle fat. Priscilla Mullins, what aileth thee? Art sleep-walking? Call a boy to fetch wood for the hearth, and fill the kettle. Are you John-a-Dreams, and is this the time for dreaming?”
”It's John-dream at least, is it not, Prissy?” whispered Constance, pinching the girl lightly as she pa.s.sed her on her way to do her share of her step-mother's bidding.
Later Constance went to summon the guests to the community house for their dinner. They came majestically, escorted by the governor, Elder Brewster, William Bradford, Stephen Hopkins, the weighty men of the colony, with Captain Standish in advance, representing the power of might. What the Indians thought of these Englishmen no one could tell; certainly they were not less appreciative of the counsel of the wise than of the force of arms, having reliance on their own part upon their medicine men and soothsayers.
What they thought of the white women's cooking was soon perfectly apparent. It kept the women busy to serve them with cakes, to hold the glowing coals on the hearth at the right degree to keep the griddle heated to the point of perfect browning, never pa.s.sing it to the burning point. The Indians devoured the cakes like a band of hungry boys, and Mistress Hopkins's boasted sausage was never better appreciated on an English farm table than here.
The young girls served the guests, which the Indians accepted as the natural thing, being used to taking the first place with squaws, both young and old.
The homebrewed beer which had come across seas in casks abundantly, also met with ultimate approval, though at first taste two or three of the Indians nearly betrayed aversion to its bitterness. There were ”strong waters” too, made riper by long tossing in the Mayflower's hold, which needed no persuading of the Indians' palates.
After the guests had dined Giles, John, Francis, and the other older boys, came trooping to the community house for their dinner.
When they discovered that Squanto spoke English fairly well they were agog 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. Ma.s.sasoit and his other companions returned with the white men to the conclave house, which was the governor's and Elder Brewster's home.
”I go but wish I might stay a little hour,” said Squanto. He won Mistress Eliza's heart, with Mistress White's, by his evident friendliness and desire to stay with them.
After this Damaris and the children could not fear him, and thus at his first introduction, Squanto, who was to become the friend and reliance of the colony, became what is even more, the friend of the little children.
CHAPTER X.
Treaties.
The girls of the plantation were gathered together in Stephen Hopkins's house. The logs on the hearth were ash-strewn to check their burning yet to hold them ready to burn when the hour for preparing supper was come and the ashes raked away.
Dame Eliza Hopkins had betaken herself to William Bradford's house, the baby, Ocea.n.u.s, seated astride her hip in her favourite manner of carrying him; she protested that she could not endure the gabble of the girls, but in truth she greatly desired to discuss with Mistress Bradford, of whom she stood somewhat in awe, the events portending. She was secretly elated with her husband's coming honour, and wanted to convey to Mistress Bradford that, as between their two spouses, Stephen Hopkins was the better man.
Constance, sitting beside the smothered hearth fire, might be considered, since it was at her father's hearthstone the girls were gathered, as the hostess of the occasion, but the gathering was for work, not formalities, and, in any case, Constance was too preoccupied with her task to pay attention to aught else.
Only the older girls were bidden, but little Damaris was there by right of tenancy. She sat at Constance's feet, wors.h.i.+pping her, as she turned and twisted their father's coat, skilfully furbis.h.i.+ng it with new b.u.t.tons and new binding.
”May Mr. Hopkins wear velvet, Constance?” asked Humility Cooper, suddenly; she too had been watching Constance work. ”Did not Elder Brewster exhort us to utmost plainness of clothing, as becomes the saints, who set more store upon heavenly raiment than earthly splendour?”
Constance looked up laughingly, pus.h.i.+ng out of her eyes her waving locks which had strayed from her cap; she used the back of the hand that held her needle, pulled at great length through a b.u.t.ton which she was fastening upon her father's worn velvet coat.
”Oh, Humility, splendour?” she laughed. ”When I am trying hard to make this old coat pa.s.sing decent? Isn't it necessary for us all to wear what we have, w.i.l.l.y-nilly, since nothing else is obtainable, garments not yet growing on New World bushes? I do believe that some of the brethren discussed Stephen Hopkins's velvet coat, and decided for it, since it stood for economy. It stood for more; till a s.h.i.+p brings supplies from home, it's this, or no coat for my father. But since he has been selected, with Mr. Edward Winslow, to make the treaty with Ma.s.sasoit, he should be clad suitably to his office, were there choice between velvet and homespun.”
”What does he make to treat Ma.s.s o' suet, Constance? What is Ma.s.s o' suet; pudding, Constance?” asked Damaris, anxiously, knitting her brow.
Constance's laugh rang out, good to hear. She leaned forward impetuously and s.n.a.t.c.hed off her little sister's decorous cap, rumpled her sleek fair hair with both hands pressing her head, and kissed her. Priscilla Mullins laughed with Constance, looking sympathetically at her, but some of the other girls looked a trifle shocked at this demonstration.
”Ma.s.sasoit is a great Indian chief, small la.s.s; he is coming in a day or so, and Father and Mr. Winslow will make a treaty with him; that means that Ma.s.sasoit will promise to be our friend and to protect us from other Indian tribes, he and his Indians, while we shall promise to be true friends to him. It is a great good to our colony, and we are proud, you and I--and I think your mother, too”--Constance glanced with amus.e.m.e.nt at Priscilla--”that our father is chosen for the colony's representative.”
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