The Landing of the Pilgrims (12 page)

During this voyage, Squanto was taken ill with an Indian fever. Within a few days he died, asking the Governor to pray for him, that he might go to the Englishmen’s God in heaven.

The corn was divided and the Weston colonists returned to Wessagussett. Captain Standish had now recovered and went along the Cape in the shallop, trading for corn in the bitter January weather. Through the long winter, he came and went, trading and treating with the sometimes treacherous Indians. Once he barely escaped an Indian plot on his life by “a notable insulting villain,” Witawamat, whose hands were stained with the blood of many a castaway English and Frenchman. The fearless Captain and his men came back in the weather-beaten shallop with corn enough to keep alive the families in the Plymouth
cabins. The flame of hope and faith was kept aglow through the lean winter days and nights.

One day, an Indian came with news that Massasoit was sick unto death. The Plymouth folk had not heard of the Chief since the quarrel over Squanto, but this was not the time to harbor ill will. After all, the great Chief had been and still was their faithful ally. Bradford appointed Winslow to visit the sick sachem. With him went Master John Hamden, a visiting gentleman from London who wanted to see the country. Hobomok was their guide.

On the way, they heard that the Chief was dead. When they reached Massasoit’s village, they found that the sachem was still alive. From his lodge came the chanting of the medicine men. Enough din to make a well man sick, thought Winslow. The lodge was crowded with sorrowing friends who believed their Chief as good as dead. Six squaws sat around the sick man, chafing his arms and legs.

Winslow saw at once that Massasoit was indeed at the point of death. He had lost his sight and his jaws were set. As the Englishman leaned over him, the dying man reached out a feeble hand and groaned, “Keen Winsnow? [Is this you, Winslow?]” for the Indians could not say “l.” And he added, “Oh, Winsnow, I shall never see you again.”

Winslow explained, through Hobomok, that the Governor had sent him to say how sorry he was to hear of his friend’s sickness. He had sent medicine and such things as he thought most likely to do him good. If Massasoit would take it, Winslow would give him the medicine at once.

Winslow had to force the concoction between the Indian’s clenched teeth with his knife. The sick man swallowed for the first time in two days. The Englishman then washed his mouth and scraped his furred and swollen tongue. In a few minutes the sick man asked for a drink and the amateur doctor poured more medicine down his throat. Within half an hour Massasoit opened his eyes.

Winslow leaned close to his face and smiled. “Massasoit will live,” he said. “Soon he will be restored to health and strength.”

In a few moments Massasoit was asleep for the first time in days. Winslow sent off a note to Surgeon Samuel Fuller asking for more physic and a couple of chickens with seasoning for a broth.

Among the Indians the news spread that the sachem had been restored to health. A miracle had been brought about by the white man’s medicine.

When the Chief awoke he was hungry. He asked Winslow to make him some soup of wild ducks such as he had tasted at Plymouth.

At once Winslow set to work to prepare a thin soup of corn meal flavored with strawberry leaves
and sassafras root. After eating this, the Chief was strong enough to sit up.

Massasoit’s confidence in Winslow was now boundless. He insisted that the Englishman visit every sick Indian in the village and give him the same treatment. It was an unfamiliar task for Winslow, but he did the best he knew how and went among the sick in the foul-smelling lodges. “With wonderment he blessed God for giving His blessing to such raw and ignorant means.”

After Winslow had seen all the other sick and ailing Indians, Massasoit wanted more broth. Winslow took his gun and soon came back with a fat duck. Presently the savory soup was ready. Winslow told Hobomok to skim the fat from the top, as it was entirely too rich for the weak stomach of the convalescent. But Massasoit would not permit it and quickly swallowed several helpings of the rich dish.

In an hour the sachem was again a very sick man. He was vomiting and, what was worse, bleeding severely from the nose. This, the Indians believed, was a sure sign of death. But presently the bleeding ceased and Massasoit slept as Winslow watched by his side. When he woke, Winslow bathed his face and urged his friend to take things slowly until he was stronger. He soon could sit up and receive visitors.

When the chickens were brought from Plymouth
the Chief decided he would not eat them. Instead he would keep them and start a poultry farm.

Massasoit’s Indian friends came from as far as a hundred miles to see the miracle. The Chief told them, “Now I see the English are my friends and love me; and whilst I live I will never forget this kindness they have showed me.”

On the night before the Englishmen were to return to Plymouth, Massasoit gave Hobomok a secret message for Winslow. Hobomok confided it to him as they marched homeward through the woods. The Indians were planning to attack and destroy the two English colonies. The Massachusetts, the Narragansetts, the Cape Cod Indians, and even those of the Isle of Capawack (Martha’s Vineyard) were in league to wipe out Weston’s colony because of their many crimes against the Indians. After this they would destroy Plymouth.

Massasoit had been pressed to join the others, but had not done so. He urged that Governor Bradford find and kill the conspirators at once. If the settlers waited until they were attacked, it would then be too late.

No one knew better than Winslow how weak
were the two little towns on the ocean frontier. He and his party hurried on through the forest toward Plymouth. That evening they accepted an invitation from their old enemy Corbitant to spend the night at his lodge. It was a chance to get better acquainted with a powerful chief and perhaps pick up further news of what was afoot.

They spent a rare night in talk at Corbitant’s lodge.

How did two men alone dare come so far into the Indian’s country? asked Corbitant.

“ ‘Where there is true love, there is no fear,’ ” parried Winslow, quoting his Bible.

“Then why, when we come to Patuxet, do you stand guard and point your guns at us?” the Indians asked.

“On land and sea the English thus salute those they wish to honor,” said Winslow.

Corbitant shook his head and said he liked not such salutation.

“Why do you ask a blessing on your meals before you eat, and give thanks for the same?” the chief asked more seriously.

Winslow was now on the firm ground of Puritan doctrine as he explained,

Corbitant said that this was good, and that the Indians believed almost all the same things; and that the same power the Englishmen called God, they called Kietitan.

This caused Mr. Winslow to change his views about Indian godlessness. He now went on with growing fervor to explain about “God’s works of Creation and Preservation; of His laws and ordinances, especially of the Ten Commandments: all of which they hearkened unto with great attention; and liked well of.” Perhaps they excepted the Seventh Commandment, which Corbitant thought held a man down too strictly to one wife. “About which, we reasoned a good time.” Winslow always remembered that night as the most interesting he had ever spent among the Indians.

Hurrying on next day, they met Indians who said that Standish had gone to Massachusetts. On their arrival at Plymouth, they found Standish had returned, being providentially turned back by contrary winds.

At Plymouth, too, they learned that a messenger
had brought a letter from Sanders, the overseer at the Bay Colony. The people of the Colony had eaten their seed corn. They had traded everything, even their shirts, to the Indians for corn. Now the Indians refused to sell them any more. Sanders proposed attacking the Indians and taking their corn by force. Would Plymouth join them in making war? It had always been the policy of Plymouth never to attack the Indians but to stand on the defense. They sent word to Sanders, urging him not to attack the Indians.

After he had heard this news, Winslow told about the Indian conspiracy and Massasoit’s advice to seize the conspirators and thus break up the plot. Immediately all Plymouth was called to a meeting to decide what must be done. Plainly it would be dangerous this time to wait for the Indians to attack. So Bradford, Allerton, and Standish were appointed to determine what action to take. Standish was instructed to go to the Bay Colony with as many men as he chose and tell them of the plot. He was not to make trouble with the Indians, but seek out the conspirators and deal with them, especially their chief, that “bloody and bold villain” Witawamat, whose head he was expressly ordered to obtain.

Captain Standish picked eight of his best men. A greater number might excite the Indians’ suspicion. The shallop was made ready with arms and
provisions. Tomorrow she would set sail on her dangerous mission. Danger was the Captain’s business and he was never happier than when he was facing it. At last he would come to grips with the scheming Witawamat.

The company in the shallop made a forty-mile run along the coast in a fair breeze. Sheltered in a deep bay, they found the
Swan
at anchor. When they came alongside and hailed her, there was no answer. Climbing aboard, they found no one on the ship—not even a dog. Perhaps they had come too late. Had the Indians massacred the colony?

They fired off a musket and then another. The shot echoed across the water. After a while they heard a shout. On the wooded shore they could see a group of men. It was the master of the
Swan
and her crew.

“But why have you abandoned the ship?” the amazed Captain Standish asked the
Swan’
s Master.

“Oh, we get along very well with the Indians, practically lived among them,” the Master replied. “We have no need of either guns or swords.”

To this Captain Standish answered somewhat drily, “If there is no need, I am the gladder.”

Standish was then told that Sanders had gone on a voyage to the fishing fleet, seeking provisions. In the meantime the Captain would find Sanders’ lieutenants at the town nearby.

To the shiftless crew at Wessagussett, Standish explained the Indian plot and offered to take back to Plymouth anyone who wanted to go. All the men were ordered in at once from the outlying woods and camps.

That day an Indian came into the post from the forest with his furs to trade. When he returned to his tribe, he reported that he had seen in the Captain’s eyes that he was angry in his heart. This Englishman had discovered their secret.

Next day a tall Indian, who said his name was Pecksuot, came into the town and talked with Hobomok. “Tell the Captain we know but fear him not, neither will we shun him,” said Pecksuot. “But let him begin when he dares; he shall not take us unaware.”

The Captain was not accustomed to such talk from an Indian. More Indians came and there were more insulting speeches. The braves sat in the compound sharpening their knives in the Captain’s very face. He choked down his rage and said nothing.

One morning as Standish sat cleaning his musket, the door of his cabin opened softly. There
stood before him the powerful figure of Witawamat. Across his nose were painted three black stripes. His eyes glittered in his dark face and on his mouth was a faint smile. He lifted the knife that hung from a cord about his neck. Pointing to the handle, on which was crudely cut the face of a woman, he said with an insolent sneer, “I have another at home with which I have killed many French and English. On it is a man’s face. By and by these two shall marry.”