The Pilgrims of New England, Mrs. J. B. Webb [best books to read in your 20s TXT] 📗

lived but to obtain vengeance--vengeance that you, Tisquantum, who were bound to wreak it on the slayer of your son, refused to take. A mighty vengeance was in my soul; and to possess it, I would have sacrificed the whole tribe. Now do to me as I would have done to Henrich.' And he glared on his hated rival with the eye of a beast of prey. Tisquantum regarded him calmly, and gravely continued his examination.

'And you have also drawn some of my people into rebel lion, and persuaded them to consent to the murder of their Chief. One of them has already shed his life-blood in punishment of his sin; and the rest will bear the marks of shame to their graves. All this is your work.'

'If more of your people had the courage to join me in resisting the pretensions of the proud stranger, you and Henrich would now have been lying dead at my feet. You would never again have been obeyed as Sachems by the Nausetts. But they loved their slavery--and let them keep it. My soul is free. You may send it forth in agony, if you will: for I am in your power, and I ask no mercy from those to whom I would have shown none. Do your worst. Coubitant's heart is strong; and I shall soon be with the spirits of my fathers, where no white men can enter.

The wrath of Tisquantum was stirred by the taunts and the bold defiance of his prisoner; and he resolved to execute on him a sentence that should strike terror into any others of the tribe who might have harbored thoughts of rebellion.

'The death that you intended should be my portion, and that of all my family, shall be your own!' he exclaimed. The torments of fire shall put a stop to your boasting. My children,' he added--turning to the warriors who stood around him--' I call on you to do justice on this villain. Form a pile of wood here on the river's brink; end when his body is consumed, his ashes shall he cast on the stream, and go to tell, in other lands, how Tisquantum punishes treachery.'

A smile of scorn curled the lip of Coubitant, but he spoke not; and no quivering feature betrayed any inward fear of the approaching agony.

'Hear me yet, Coubitant,' resumed the old Chieftain; and, as he spoke, the strokes of his warriors' hatchets among the neighboring trees fell on the victim's ear, but did not seem to move him. 'Hear me yet, and answer me. Was it by your arts that Salon's soul was turned away from his lawful Chief, and filled with thoughts of murder? Was he true to me and mine until you returned to put evil thoughts into his heart? or had pride and jealousy already crept in there, which you have only fostered?'

'Salon hugged his chains till I showed him that they were unworthy of a true-born Indian. The smooth tongue of the pale-face had beguiled him, till I told him that it would lead him to ruin and subjection. Yes: I taught Salon to long for freedom for himself, and freedom for his race. And now he will die for it, as a red man ought to die. Let the same pile consume us both!'

'No!' interrupted Henrich, eagerly. 'His guilt is far less than yours, and mercy may be extended to him. By every law of God and man your life, Coubitant, is forfeited; and justice requires that you should die. But I would desire your death to be speedy, and I would spare you all needless agony. My father,' he continued, addressing Tisquantum, 'let my request be heard in favor of Salon, that he may live to become our trusty friend again; and since Coubitant must die, let it be by the quick stroke of the knife, and not in the lingering horrors of the stake.'

'Cease to urge me, my son,' replied the Chief, in a tone of firm determination, that forbad all hope of success. 'I have said that Coubitant shall die the death he intended for us; and his funeral pile shall light up this spot ere I retire to my lodge. Salon, also, shall die: but, as he was deceived by the greater villain, he shall die a warriors death.'

The Sachem rose from his seat, and took a spear that leaned against the trunk of the tree beside him.

'Now meet the stroke like a man!' he cried; and gathering his somewhat failing strength, he bore with all his force against the naked breast of Salon. The life-blood gushed forth, and he fell a corpse upon the earth.

'Now drive in the stake, and heap the pile!' exclaimed the aged Chieftain in a clear, loud voice of command, as he withdrew the bloody lance, and waved it high above his head. He was excited by the scene he was enacting, and the feelings of his race were aroused within him with a violence that had been long unknown to him. He felt the joy that savage natures feel in revenging themselves on their foes; and he forgot the influence that Henrich's example and precepts of forbearance had so lung exerted over his conduct, though they had not yet succeeded in changing his heart.

'Heap the pile high!' he cried; 'and let the flames bring back the light of day, and show me the death struggles of him who would have slain me, and all I love on earth. Drag the wretch forward, and bind him strongly. The searching flames may yet have power to conquer his calm indifference.'

The lighted brand was ready, and the victim was led to the foot of the pile. A rope was passed around his arms, and the noose was about to be drawn tight, when, quick as lightning, the devoted victim saw that there was yet one chance for life. The river was rolling beneath his feet. Could he but reach it! His arms were snatched from those who held them with a sudden violence, for which they were unprepared; and, with one desperate bound, the prisoner gained the steep bank of the broad dark stream. Another moment, and a heavy plash was heard in the waters.

Darkness was gathering around the scene; and those who looked into the river could distinguish no human form on its surface.

'Fire the pile!' cried Tisquantum; and the flames burst up from the dry crackling wood, and threw a broad sheet of light on the dark stream below.

'He is there!' again shouted the infuriated Chieftain. 'I see the white foam that his rapid strokes leave behind him. Send your arrows after him, my brave warriors, and suffer him not to escape. Ha! will Mahneto let him thus avoid my vengeance?'

The bow-strings twanged, and the arrows flew over the water. Where did they fall? Not on Coubitant's struggling form; for he had heard the Sachem's command, and had dived deeply beneath the surface of the water, and changed his course down the stream. When he rose again, it was in a part of the river that the flames did not illuminate; and those who sought his life saw him no more.

'Surely he was wounded, and has sunk, never to rise again!' exclaimed Henrich. 'His doom has followed him!'

'Mahneto be praised!' cried Tisquantum; 'but I would I had seen him writhing in those flames!' And he turned and left the spot.

Coubitant gained the western shore of the river; and he smiled a strange and ominous smile, as he looked across the waters, and saw the forms of his enemies by the light of that fire which had been intended to consume his quivering flesh, and dismiss from earth his undaunted and cruel spirit.

'I will have vengeance yet!' ha muttered: and then he turned his steps towards the south, and paused not until he had traveled many miles down the river, when he lay down on its margin, and slept as soundly as if no guilt lay on his soul.


CHAPTER XVIII

'Out of small beginnings great things have arisen,...and as one small candle may light a thousand. So the light here kindled hath shone on many.' GOVERNOR BRADFORD'S JOURNAL.

Once more we must leave our Indian friends, and return to New Plymouth, and to comparatively civilized life, with all its cares and anxieties, from so many of which the wild tenants of the woods are free.

Cares and anxieties had, indeed, continued to be the portion of the Pilgrim Fathers and their families, though mingled with many blessings. Their numbers had considerably increased during the years that elapsed since last we took a view of their condition; and their town bad assumed a much more comfortable and imposing appearance. Many trading vessels had also visited the rising colony from the mother-country, and had brought out to the settlers useful supplies of clothing, and other articles of great value. Among these, none were more acceptable to the emigrants than the first specimens of horned cattle, consisting of three cows and a bull, that reached the settlement about the third year after its establishment. They were hailed with universal joy by all the inhabitants of New Plymouth, who seemed to feel as if the presence of such old accustomed objects, brought back to them a something of home that they had never felt before in the land of their exile. These precious cattle were a common possession of the whole colony, and were not divided until the year 1627, when their numbers had greatly increased, and when a regular division of the houses and lands also took place.

The trade of the colony had, likewise, been considerably augmented, both with the Indians and with the English, whose fishing vessels frequented the coast, and were the means of their carrying on a constant intercourse and traffic with their friends at home. One of these vessels brought out to the emigrants the sad intelligence of the death of their beloved pastor, John Robinson--he who had been honored and respected by every Puritan community, whether in Europe or America, and for whose arrival the Pilgrims had looked, with anxious hope, ever since the day of their sorrowful parting in Holland. 'Surely'--as a friend of Bradford's wrote to him from Leyden--our pastor would never have gone from hence, if prayers, tears or means of aid could have saved him.' The consternation of the settlers was great indeed. Year after year they had gone on, expecting and waiting for his coming to resume his official duties among them; and, therefore, they had never taken any measures to provide themselves with regular pastors, who might preach the gospel to them three times every Lord's day, according to their custom in Europe and also administer to them the sacrament, which, previous to their exile, all the grown-up members of the community had habitually received every Sunday.

The death of their spiritual leader and counselor had destroyed all their hopes of being again united to him on earth; and the blow fell heavily on all, and cast a gloom over the settlement that was not soon dispersed; but still the Pilgrims did not immediately proceed to choose another minister. The belief that the divine service could receive no part of its sanctity from either time, place, or person, but only from the Holy Spirit of God, which hallows it--was then, as it is now, a leading feature of the Independent and Presbyterian churches of America, and, therefore, the Puritans of New Plymouth did not feel it a necessity--although they deemed it a _privilege_--to enjoy the spiritual ministrations of ordained clergymen.

Hitherto the