Soldier Rigdale: How He Sailed in the Mayflower and How He Served Miles Standish by Beulah Marie Dix
CHAPTER XXII
THE BEARER OF TIDINGS
CAPTAIN STANDISH must have spoken to Master Hopkins of other matterthan wounded Indians, for, to his surprise, Miles got no whippingnext morning. "Since the Captain needed you, I cannot punish you foryour delay," Master Hopkins said curtly, a remission which would haveoverwhelmed Miles, if it had not been surpassed by the joyous factof Mistress Hopkins's bringing out an old suit of his father's thatafternoon and starting to make him new clothes.
In duty bound Miles went forth, and, seeking Priscilla, thanked herawkwardly that she had spoken for him to the Captain. He wasn't seekingFrancis Billington, he would have declared, but somehow he sauntered tothe shore, where Francis was likely to be, and, true enough, there hewas, paddling in the water by the landing rock.
Miles halted on the beach and resumed the talk where it had stoppedat their last meeting. "Hm," he sniffed at his old enemy, "I take it,Captain Standish has other things to do than gossip about me to yourfather. You lied to me, Francis Billington, when you said he called methe worst boy in Plymouth, and I'm going to thrash you for that lie."
"I was but jesting," vowed Francis.
Miles, with his aggressive fists, smote the boy and rolled him in thesand. "I'm jesting too, now," he said grimly.
Francis fled howling home, and Miles, with his shoulders well back,swung away to the corn-field. "I _had_ to beat Francis," he assuredhimself, "but now I'll not fight nor run from labor any more, but bearme well, because I am to go live with the Captain soon."
But Miles's "soon" proved, after all, a long, and, in some ways, acheerless time. There were many days still to spend in his guardian'shouse, where Mistress Hopkins scolded at his carelessness, where MasterHopkins bade him work when he had thought to win an hour's playtime,and where more than once, sorry to tell, Master Miles himself strayedwantonly into mischief and was sternly but justly punished therefor.
Nevertheless, now that he had a big, pleasant hope to live forward to,he found it easier to bear what was not to his liking in the present.After all, when he tried, it was not so difficult as he had thought todo Master Hopkins's bidding, Miles told himself, and never realizedhow much easier it was for him to perform his tasks, while Ned Lister,still sulky and subdued from his public punishment, was workingfiercely and would not pause to idle with him.
Thus in little, dull labors and the large pleasure of looking forward,the muggy August days panted out their course and the Septembertwilights shortened. A long, secure time of peace it was for thesettlement, in which there fell but one incident,--an expedition whichten of the Plymouth men undertook far up the coast to the Bay of theMassachusetts, where they traded for skins and made a league with theIndians. Ned, who was one of the company,--because, Giles Hopkins toldMiles, laughingly, he was held too much of a firebrand to be leftbehind,--came home with something of his old braggart manner, and toldbig stories that set young Rigdale wild with envy. Why could not he bea man at once, a full-sized man with a musket, and go with the Captainto trade or fight with the savages?
But presently there was manly work in which Miles shared, for with therare October days came the time of harvesting, when, as in the weeks ofplanting, every man and boy in the colony must bear a part. It was goodweather to work, though, with nothing of the sickly heat of the Aprildays, but a bracing air nerved every muscle, and the sky was deep andclear.
Miles liked the stir and freshness of trudging to the fields, one ofthe whole company, in the awakening cool hours of the morning. His taskat first was to follow after the reapers in the barley field and gatherthe heavy stalks of the bearded grain into sheaves. Then after thebarley, as the days grew shorter, they harvested the corn, a toilsomelabor, that soon became irksome to Miles, whose part was to sit all dayunder cover, amidst the stiff stalks and rustling leaves, and husk theears till his arms ached and his fingers were sore. By and by, when thecorn was dried, he foresaw he should have to help shell the kernelsfrom all those ears, and he sighed a little, as he watched the pilerise high.
Yet at heart he knew that, like all the others in the settlement, hewas glad for the great heap of yellow ears. It had been a fruitfulharvest; the pease, to be sure, had withered in the blossom, but theincrease of corn and barley was so great that there was no fear lestthe colony go hungry that winter. Men's faces were soberly elate, andeven Master Hopkins relaxed his customary sternness.
But Mistress Hopkins had a mighty grievance, for Governor Bradford,after the harvest all was garnered, set apart a week as a time ofspecial rejoicing. "That means in a community of men, even of the mostgodly, a week of feasting," she lamented. "And who is it shall preparethe food but we ten poor women and maids of the colony?"
To Miles, however, a week of feasting sounded pleasant; he only wishedhe were Ned Lister, for the Governor sent him and three of the othermen fowling to get provisions for the merrymaking. In a day the fourkilled near enough to last the company a week,--a great, feathery heapof woodcocks, pigeons, quails, and plump wild turkeys. Miles shared inthe work of plucking the birds, and, for the rest, he fetched wood,armful by armful, for the great fires that blazed out-of-doors, andhe ran dares with the other boys, who should go farthest in among theblazing brands, till Goodwife Billington bore down upon them, and,chancing to collar her own son, cuffed him mercilessly.
He tugged buckets of water, too, for the endless boilings and stewings,till his back ached, but he minded it little, for this was holidaytime. The October air was crisp; there was plenty to eat,--meat,and bread of the fresh corn meal; and, all the time, the zest ofstrangeness was added to the jubilation by the coming of hordes ofIndians to share the English cheer.
The third day Massasoit presented himself, with ninety hungry warriors,whereat not only Mistress Hopkins but cheerful Priscilla Mullins wasin despair. But his Majesty did his part in supplying provisions, fornext morning some of his men went into the forest and returned withfive fat deer, which he bestowed, as seemed to Miles most fitting,on the Captain and the Governor. They were, however, roasted for thebehoof of the whole company, and on the last day of the feast, afterthe Captain had drilled his little troop before the King to do himhonor, the Plymouth people and their guests ate of good venison.
The tables were spread in the fields, and Miles held it a notabledistinction that he and Giles were bidden by the Captain wait at theone where he sat, with Massasoit and the Governor and others of thechiefs of the red men and white. Miles carried the platters of meatthither, with all the decorum of which he was master, and hoped thatStandish might throw a word to him, so his happiness was final when,on his last trip to the table, the Captain called him to his side. Hewas sitting at the left hand of the Governor, where the light from theafternoon sun struck athwart his face, and over opposite him sat KingMassasoit, greasy as ever, but now monarch-like in a great robe ofskins.
It was to him that Standish spoke, in words of the Indian tongue ofwhich Miles caught only one or two. But the Captain answered hisquestioning look: "His Majesty was pleased to crave a sight of you,Miles. Truth, you put him to stir enough last July. It was he who, whenhe got tidings from Manomet, despatched the order thither that no hurtshould be done you, and sent us word where to seek you."
"Did he do so much, sir?" Miles asked, and, gazing at the stolidIndian, made him a grateful bow. "I should like to tell him 'thankyou,'" he added. "If Squanto would say it for me,--or you."
Then he tramped back again to the fire to take his own share of thefeast, a large turkey leg which Constance had saved for him, and,whether it were overmuch turkey or overmuch labor, he was too tiredeven to rise and witness the departure of the Indians after theboard was cleared, for all he knew the musketeers would fire them aparting volley. 'Twas toilsome work, this merrymaking, he agreed withPriscilla, and, going weary and cross to bed, he was glad to awake tothe Sabbath quiet of the little village, and, on the ensuing morning,drop once more into the ordered round of duties.
There was naught to do in the following days but to make read
Together he and Constance and Giles opened, in the search, the littlechest that had been Goodman Rigdale's; it gave Miles a dull pang toturn over the clothes his father and mother had worn, but somehow allthat sorrow seemed to have fallen very long ago. "Yet 'tis not a yearsince we sailed into the harbor," he said softly.
"Just a year to-morrow since we sighted Cape Cod," answered Giles, andConstance changed Miles's thoughts by adding: "The other ship with ourfresh supply should come now very speedily; in about a month I heardfather say we might look for her. I hope there'll be cattle come inher; 'tis hard for the babies to have not a drop of milk."
"And no butter," sighed Miles, thinking of himself. "And if they bringoxen, 'twill be easier ploughing, come spring; and there'll be more mento fight--"
"There'll be two more next spring, in any case," Giles interrupted."Captain Standish says that then Bart Allerton and I shall have musketsof our own and be enrolled in his company."
In the days since the landing at Plymouth, Giles had grown aresponsible youth, but Miles, who had been so much with him that heheld himself near as old, was quite jealous at his last speech andwondered if no one would offer him a musket.
He took himself forth from the chamber into the living room, where NedLister, who was cleaning his fowling piece and was in a good temper, ashe usually was when he was busied over his weapons, let him meddle inthe work till his fingers were blacked. "I'm going northward to-morrowmorning, where Squanto tells me a flock of geese are astir," Ned spokefurther. "If Master Hopkins is willing, I'll take you with me, Miley;'tis months since we've gone about any labor together."
Disappointingly, Master Hopkins was not willing, for, when he came tohis supper, he had to report an evil rumor, which one of Miles's oldenemies, the Nauset Indians, had just brought to the town, that a greatship had been seen on their coast. It might be some English trader, orit might be a French ship of war, come to dispossess the colonists,just as the English had driven the French, at an earlier time, fromtheir northern settlements.
Still, even if 'twere a Frenchman, Ned argued, men must eat, and mustkill their food ere they could eat it, so, at the last, his master saidhe might go fowling, and even, if he did not roam too far, take Mileswith him.
Early next morning the two hunters set out in lively spirits, in spiteof the fact that the woods were sombre and the sky rough with cloudsthat looked, should they thrust a hand deep into them, as if they wouldstrike something hard and cold. Already there had been bitter frosts,and the thick fallen leaves, on the northward trail, rustled crisplybeneath the tread of the fowlers. Ned wore his red cap, which blazedout bravely under the dull trees, and his buff-jacket, too, which gavehim the martial look he liked. Miles had no such warlike equipments,but Ned generously suffered him to carry the fowling piece, so he feltquite like a soldier. "I do but wish the French would come upon usnow," he panted boastfully, as he shouldered the gun.
"There's small danger you'll find a Frenchman, unless you cross thewater to seek him," Ned answered. "I'll do it, so soon as my time'sout. Go into Bohemia and fight--" There he turned off into discourse onthe joys of a life where a man never fetched and carried, but handleda sword like a gentleman, which lasted them for a mile along the baretrail.
By then they came from among the leafless trees of the level land to athick piny growth at the base of a tall hill, that blocked off sight ofthe ocean. Ned was for climbing it out of hand, for, on the other side,by the shore, he thought to find the wild fowl, so up he scrambled,quite nimbly, since he had long legs and tramped unburdened, whileMiles toiled after with the fowling piece. A mighty steep hill, wherethe pine needles lay slippery, so Miles stumbled and near fell, and,when he came at last to the little barren stretch of the summit, wherethe lowering sky seemed to bend down to him, he could only drop flatand lie panting.
Ned cast himself down beside him, although he did not seem weary,and, half smiling at Miles's breathlessness, let his eyes at lastturn seaward. Lying back, Miles, too, looked out upon the gray water,beneath the hill, that far away to eastward merged into the gray sky,and then a sudden exclamation made him glance at his companion.
Ned was sitting erect with his hand shading his eyes, and the lines ofhis face were sharpened with a sudden tenseness. "What d'ye see?" Milesbegan carelessly, but the other, springing to his feet, spoke to him ina curt tone: "Jump you up, Miles. Look yonder, if you see aught in theoffing."
Ned's hands turned Miles's head eastward, but, though the boy yieldedhimself obediently and gazed whither he was told, he saw only dullwater and brooding sky. Yet he was beginning to guess the meaning of itall, and, with the heart fluttering into his throat, he cried, "Ned,sure, you do not think--that French ship--"
But Lister, wheeling about, had reached in two strides a tall pinetree that spired from the summit of the hill, and, grasping its lowerbranches, swung himself upward from bough to bough. His cap showedvery red against the green of the pine needles, and Miles watched itgo bobbing toward the tree top, with a mind so suddenly dulled that hecould think of nothing else, till at last the young man, holding fastby one arm, swayed at the topmost point of the pine tree.
A long minute Ned clung there, staring seaward with his face sober,then headlong slipped and scrambled from the tree. "It's a sail, trueenough," he cried, and, as the words left his lips, came to the groundwith a crashing fall that made the branches sway.
Before Miles could reach his side, Ned sprang to his feet, stood amoment, took a single step, and then toppled over again across theroots of the pine, with his face working in a manner that frightenedhis companion. "Are you hurt? What is it, Ned?" he cried.
"Naught but my ankle," groaned Lister, struggling to a sitting posture."I've wrenched the cursed thing. Tut, tut, tut! Don't waste time hereby me. Run to Plymouth. Tell them the ship's in sight."
"The Frenchman?" gasped Miles.
"How can I tell, when 'tis four league off shore?" snapped Ned. "'Tisa ship, and that's enough. Run along with you, briskly!" Then, spiteof the pain, there came a sort of softening to his face. "You're notafeard to go back along the trail alone, Miley?"
"The breath came gripingly in his throat."]
"I've been in woods before now," cried the boy, indignantly. "But--butif I go, what will you do?"
"Sit here and take tobacco," Ned answered, in his swaggering tone, and,with his hand a little unsteady, drew his pipe from his pocket. "Giveme the fowling piece near to me, and now run your briskest, d'ye hear?Off with you, heavy-heels, unless you be afraid!"
The taunt more than all else sent Miles plunging headlong down thehill. The needles slipped beneath his shoes, and his knees jarred withthe steepness of the descent. Once he tripped, and, falling, rolledover and over, and rose up in fear lest he had hurt himself like Ned.But he could run well enough, he found, as he stumbled into the morelevel part of the trail. His briskest, and warn the Plymouth folk, Nedbade, and suddenly Miles's heart gave a great leap that he was to doso soldierly a part in the Captain's sight. He drew a big breath, and,bending his head, dashed down the trail.
The dry twigs snapped beneath his feet; a frightened quail, with astartling whir, flew across his path; the branches, as he rushed bythem, wavered and shook. Below him the ground reeled and the sky abovewas shot with black; the breath came gripingly in his throat, and apain like that of a piercing iron bored into his side.
Downhill, where the ground seemed not to be beneath him, and in thehollow splashed a brook. He felt the chill of the water over his ankleas he thrust his foot into it, and, stopping a moment, he plunged hishead, that ached to bursting, into the icy ripples, then, gasping,staggered up the opposite slope.
He was running heavily now, so it scarcely could be called
Within, they heard him, however. The door was flung open; he fellagainst Master Winslow; and yonder by the table he had sight of theGovernor and the Elder and Master Hopkins and the Captain himself,starting up from the conference he had interrupted. Miles reeledforward a step or two and caught Standish's arm. "Captain Standish," hegasped, "the ship--the French--we saw it from the hill--the French arein the offing."
Then his knees gave way and the room whirled round. A blackness wasabout him in which he heard faintly the questions and re-questions ofthe men, the clatter of the house-door, a calling in the street. Thenthunderously, subduing all other sound, he heard the crash of the greatgun upon the Fort Hill that called home from labor the men who shoulddefend their settlement.