Part 8

So the Pilgrim Fathers, together with their wives, little ones, and men and maid servants, said farewell to Holland’s hospitable shore. Soon after, they sailed from England in the _Mayflower_, to found a settlement in the savage New World, under the rule of England.

They took with them the seeds of American Independence. They had left England so that they might have the freedom which was theirs by rights. They were come to America so that they might govern themselves, every man having a voice in the government of the new settlement as well as in the management of his own congregation. This principle of self-government, the Pilgrims embodied in the famous Mayflower Compact, an agreement which they drew up and signed the day they reached New England.

Meanwhile, far to the South of New England another Colony of Englishmen had planted and was fostering other seeds of American Independence.[3]

But let us see what became of William Bradford, since we are celebrating his birthday. We will let Cotton Mather tell it in his own quaint style:--

“The rest of his days were spent in the services and the temptations of that American wilderness. Here was Master Bradford, in the year 1621, unanimously chosen the Governor of the Plantation. The difficulties whereof were such that if he had not been a person of more than ordinary piety, wisdom, and courage, he must have sunk under them.” He served for thirty-seven years, “in every one of which he was chosen their Governor, except the three years wherein Master Winslow and the two years wherein Master Prince, at the choice of the people, took a turn with him.... But the crown of all was his holy, prayerful, watchful, and fruitful, walk with God.... He died May 9th, 1657, in the 69th year of his age, lamented by all the Colonies of New England as a common Blessing and Father to them all.”

THE SAVAGE NEW WORLD

It was November, 1620. The ocean swelled angrily. A cold wind was blowing, as day broke over the gray water. Sea-gulls swooped and wheeled around the good ship _Mayflower_, which, with tattered sails, was driving through the billows. For over two months she had been on her way from Plymouth, England, carrying the Pilgrims. And, now, while the dull day was breaking, suddenly a cry was heard:--

“Land Ho!”

The Pilgrims came crowding to the deck, fathers, mothers, children, men, and maid-servants. They looked eagerly toward the west. They saw the coast of the New World, as the ship rushed nearer, low with a white line of surf beating against its wooded shore.

It was a very new, strange, savage world awaiting them, full of unknown horrors and Indians. Yet the Pilgrims were not fearful. Had they not committed themselves to God’s will? And was not this to be their home, the land to which He was bringing them? So they fell on their knees, and blessed Him who had guided them safely through storm and stress.

The wide bay where they first anchored--Cape Cod Bay--was wooded to the water’s edge, with pines and oaks, with sassafras and juniper, with birch and holly, ash and walnut. Whales swam spouting around the ship, while flocks of wild fowl flew screaming overhead.

And when at last the Pilgrims went ashore in that uninhabited spot, how briskly the mothers and sisters rubbed and scrubbed, as they washed the Pilgrims’ clothes. For it had been a frightful two months’ voyage, with so many storms and so much sickness aboard, that little washing had been done. And the first thing the Pilgrim Mothers did, was to hold a great wash day.

And while the women washed, the carpenter repaired the ship’s shallop; for William Bradford and some of the others wished to explore the coast, in order to find a safe and pleasant spot for their settlement.

While the shallop was being got ready, the Pilgrims decided to send out a party by land, to see what the country was like.

And many thrilling adventures, the Pilgrim Fathers had before they discovered a site, and built Plymouth Town.

On their first adventure, they saw Indians in the distance. They walked through fields of corn-stubble which belonged to Indians. They found a white man’s kettle and the ruins of a cabin. They dug up a fine, great, new basket filled with corn, red, yellow, and blue. They took the corn with them, intending to search out the owner, and pay him well.

On the second adventure, they found empty Indian wigwams, more corn, and the grave of a man with yellow hair.

On the third adventure, they left their shallop, at night, to camp on shore. In the gray dusk of morning, a band of fierce Nauset Indians attacked them. A flight of brass-headed or claw-tipped arrows came flying across the Pilgrims’ barricade. The Pilgrims fired their guns, and the Nausets, whooping loudly, bounded away into the dusk. The Pilgrims pursued them for a short distance.

Though many arrows had fallen around them, none of the Pilgrims were hurt. They gave thanks to God for their deliverance; and, after naming the spot The _Place of the First Encounter_, they sailed away in their shallop to explore the coast near by.

Then, at last, they discovered a beautiful site for their town, situated on a fine harbour. They returned to the _Mayflower_, with the good news. And a few days before Christmas, the _Mayflower_ anchored in the harbour, and the Pilgrim folk landed on Plymouth Rock.

On Christmas day, they began to build Plymouth Town.

WELCOME, ENGLISHMEN!

“Welcome!”

That cry--just one English word--sounded through the street of Plymouth, and startled the Pilgrims. They caught up their muskets and ran from the houses.

A tall naked savage, his lank hair clinging to his shoulders, was stalking along the street, holding a bow and arrows.

“Welcome!” he shouted.

The Pilgrims returned his greeting.

He was Samoset, Chief of Pemaquid, he told them. He had journeyed from very far off. He had learned English among the Englishmen who sometimes came to fish off the coast of his country.

The Pilgrims, glad to talk with a friendly Indian, invited him to eat with them. Then, as the wind was rising, they wrapped a warm coat around his naked body. They gave him biscuit with butter, and cheese, and a piece of cooked duck; all of which he seemed to relish hugely.

And in answer to their questions Samoset told them many things about that country. As for the Nauset Indians, who had attacked them so fiercely at The Place of the First Encounter, he said that these Nausets hated all white men because a certain Englishman, one Captain Hunt, a short time before the Pilgrims landed, had cruelly deceived the Nauset Indians, kidnapping twenty of them, and selling them to other white men.

All this and much more, Samoset told the Pilgrims. He stayed with them that night. The next day they sent him away with a gift of a knife, a ring, and a bracelet. He went off promising that he would come soon again and bring other Indians to trade with them.

But the Pilgrims were troubled, for they had not found the owners of the buried corn.

LOST! LOST! A BOY!

There were children on the _Mayflower_--Oceanus Hopkins who was born at sea, Peregrine White who gave his first baby-cry soon after the _Mayflower_ reached the New World, Francis Billington who almost blew up the _Mayflower_, while trying to make fireworks, and John Billington.

John was a mischievous youngster, and so lively that the Pilgrim Fathers had to keep a stern eye upon him. But in spite of their watching, he got lost. For one day, soon after the Pilgrims were settled in Plymouth, he slipped out of the town, and into the woods that stretched farther than eye could see from the top of the highest tree.

That night when John did not come home, the Plymouth folk were worried. Where was the boy? they asked. How had he managed to slip from the town without being seen? Had he strayed into the woods? Had a savage caught him and carried him off?

Governor Bradford sent a party to look for him. They scoured the woods about, but there was no John.

Five days went by,--five anxious days for the Plymouth folk. And John had not returned when a message came from the friendly Indian, King Massasoit, saying that the Nausets had the lad. The Nauset Indians were the same fierce savages who had attacked the Pilgrims at The Place of the First Encounter.

A shallop was launched and victualed; and the next morning ten of the Pilgrims, with Tisquantum, their Indian interpreter, set sail for Nauset.

It was a dangerous trip. At first the day was calm and bright, then came on a storm of wind with thunder and lightning, that lashed the little ship; while a waterspout almost broke over her. “But GOD be praised!” says the _Pilgrim Chronicle_, which tells about _the lost boy_, “GOD be praised! it dured not long, and we put in that night for harbour at a place called Cummaquid, where we had some hope to find the boy.”

But they didn’t find him there. “The Nausets have got him,” said the friendly Cummaquid Indians, when they came down the next morning to catch lobsters. And they invited the Pilgrims to come ashore and eat with them. So six of them landed, hoping to learn something more about John.

Iyanough, the handsome young Cummaquid Chief, welcomed them heartily. He made a feast of venison and maize cakes. And after they had eaten, he offered to go with them to help rescue John. So the Pilgrims put out to sea again, taking Iyanough and two of his braves. They made the best speed possible, for they were anxious to find what had happened to the boy.

The tide was out when they reached Nauset, and the water was so shallow that they had to anchor at a distance from land. Iyanough, his braves, and Tisquantum, went ashore to find Aspinet the Nauset Chief. They hoped to persuade him to give up John, if he was still alive.

Meanwhile, crowds of Nauset Indians came running down to the beach. They waded out from shore; and soon they were swarming around the shallop. The Pilgrims stood guard to keep them from boarding her, for they remembered all too well, how these same savages had attacked them with showers of brass-headed arrows.

Finally, they allowed two of the Indians to climb into the shallop. And what was the Pilgrims’ delight when they found that one of the two was part owner of the corn dug up at Cornhill. They welcomed him gladly. They told him that they wished to pay for the corn. They asked him to come to Plymouth for the payment. He promised that he would.

By this time the sun was setting, but Iyanough had not returned with news of John. This made the Pilgrims all the more anxious.

After sunset, they saw a long train of Nauset Indians come winding down to the beach. At their head, walked their haughty Chief Aspinet. He drew near to the edge of the beach. Some of his warriors stood guard with their bows and arrows ready to shoot. The others laid down their weapons and followed Aspinet into the water. They began to wade out toward the shallop. And whom should the Pilgrims see sitting on the shoulders of a big Indian, but John himself, covered with strings of beads! He had been visiting in the Nauset village, where his new friend the big Indian had feasted and entertained him in his wigwam.

And while the Indian was giving John over to the Pilgrims, Aspinet announced that he and his people wished to make peace with the white men. So the Pilgrims made peace with him, and presented him with a strong English knife. They gave another one to the big Indian in return for his kindness to John. Aspinet and his warriors then went back friendly and satisfied, to their village.

So the lost boy was found.

And so the buried corn was paid for at last.

THE RATTLESNAKE CHALLENGE

It was just before Christmas, when a strange Brave came into Plymouth town, carrying a bundle of new arrows wrapped in a rattlesnake-skin.

He asked for Tisquantum. When they told him that Tisquantum was away, he smiled and seemed glad. He laid down the skin, and turned to run out of the town.

But Governor Bradford did not like his looks nor his queer gift, so ordered Captain Standish to seize him. The Captain laid hold of him, and locked him up for the night. At first the poor Indian shook so with fear that he could not speak. Then as they questioned him gently, he grew calmer. And when they promised to set him free if he would tell who had sent him, he confessed to being a messenger from Canonicus, the great Chieftain of the Naragansett Indians, a People powerful and many thousands strong.

Governor Bradford, in the morning, set him free, bidding him go back to Canonicus and tell him that if he would not live at peace with the white men, as their other Indian neighbours did, the white men would show him their wrath.

The messenger listened quietly. He refused all offers of food, but thanked the Pilgrims for their kindness. Then he sped away to his master.

When Tisquantum came back, they asked him what the rattlesnake-skin meant.

To send a rattlesnake-skin meant an enemy, he said. It was the same as sending a challenge.

In answer, Governor Bradford stuffed the skin full of powder, and sent it back by an Indian runner to Canonicus.

The runner delivered it with such terrifying words of defiance, that Canonicus would not even touch it for fear of the powder and shot, nor would he let the rattlesnake-skin stay overnight in his village. The runner refused to take it back to Plymouth. Canonicus then gave it to one of his own Indians, who had it posted from place to place, until at last it was returned to Governor Bradford--_unopened_!

THE GREAT DROUGHT

How the Pilgrims’ little farms did flourish! Rye, barley, maize, oats, beans, and peas grew and thrived; also parsnips, carrots, turnips, onions, melons, radishes, and beets. In the gardens, were fragrant herbs. Refreshing watercresses grew wild in the meadows; while fruit ripened on the trees, which the Pilgrims had found already growing in the land.

But early during the third Summer, destruction threatened those little farms. There was a great drought. For many weeks, scarcely a drop of rain fell.

The corn, oats, rye, and barley, drooped their yellowing blades. The beans stopped running, and lay parched and shrivelling. The other vegetables were turning yellow. Unless rain should fall soon, the Pilgrims knew that they and their little children must starve when Winter came.

To add to the misery of it all, a ship laden with supplies, which had been sent from England, was missing. Nothing had been heard of her for months. And now, during the great drought, the wreck of a ship was cast on shore.

In sorrow and anxiety, the Pilgrims met together for a day of public fasting and prayer.

We will let Edward Winslow himself, tell what happened:--

“But, Oh! the mercy of our God! who was as ready to hear as we to ask!

“For though in the morning when we assembled together, the heavens were as clear and the drought as like to continue as ever it was, yet our Exercise (public worship) continuing some eight or nine hours, before our departure the weather was overcast, the clouds gathered together on all sides.

“And on the next morning distilled such soft, sweet, and moderate showers of rain continuing some fourteen days and mixed with such seasonable weather, as it was hard to say whether our withered corn or drooping affections were most quickened or revived.

“Such was the bounty and goodness of our God!

“So that having these many signs of God’s favour, and acceptation, we thought it would be great ingratitude if secretly we should smoother up the same or content ourselves with private thanksgiving, for that which by private prayer could not be obtained.

“And therefore another Solemn Day was set apart and appointed for that end. Wherein we returned glory, honour, and praise, with all thankfulness to our good God which dealt so graciously with us.”

_Governor Edward Winslow_ (_Condensed_)

_The story of “The First Harvest Home in Plymouth” may be found in “Good Stories for Great Holidays.”_

JANUARY 7

GENERAL ISRAEL PUTNAM

“OLD PUT”

The picturesque wolf-slayer, a brave and sterling Patriot.

JOHN FISKE

There was a generosity and buoyancy about the brave old man, that made him a favourite throughout the Army; especially with the younger officers, who spoke of him familiarly and fondly as “Old Put.”

WASHINGTON IRVING

General ISRAEL PUTNAM was born in Massachusetts, January 7, 1718

Moved to Connecticut, 1740

Left his plough to fight at Bunker Hill, 1775

He died, May 29, 1790.

SEEING BOSTON

It was before the War for Independence. A country boy in rough homespun clothes was walking along the streets of Boston. He was staring at the shop signs and windows. It was his first visit to the big city. He had never seen such interesting things before. The boy was Israel Putnam, the son of a farmer.

A city boy, much bigger than Putnam, saw him wandering about staring curiously at everything. He thought that it would be safe to bully such a raw-looking boy. Stepping up to Putnam, he began to make fun of his coarse clothes and his awkward walk.

Putnam stood it as long as he could, for though he was known as a fighter at home, he never provoked a quarrel. But now, as he saw a crowd gathering which seemed to enjoy his humiliation, his blood rose. He turned on the big boy, and gave him such a drubbing that the crowd cheered with delight. The boy slunk off, and Putnam walked away and had no more annoyance.

That was the kind of boy--and man too--Israel Putnam was; slow to anger; but when once roused by injustice, nothing could hold him back.

THE FIGHT WITH THE WOLF

Israel Putnam grew older, married, and went to live in Connecticut. He had a stock farm.

One winter, wolves began to kill his animals. There was a she-wolf, particularly fierce and ravenous, who had lost the toes of one foot. She attacked and devoured animals for miles around.

During a single night Putnam lost seventy fine sheep and goats, besides having many lambs and kids badly torn. In the morning he found around the fold the tracks of the she-wolf’s toeless foot.

Putnam and some of his neighbours traced her to a cave about five miles away. Then they returned home.

The next morning they started out with dogs, guns, and brimstone. The dogs chased the wolf into her cave, but came running out again torn and yelping. Putnam and the men built a fire in the cave-entrance. They threw on brimstone which gave out choking fumes. They threw on straw which made a thick smoke. But there were no signs of the wolf. All was quiet in the cave.

It grew to be nearly ten o’clock at night. Putnam tried once more to make his dog enter the cave, but he would not stir. Putnam, then, asked his negro man to go in and shoot the beast. But the black man, shivering with fright, refused to crawl in.

Putnam grew angry. In spite of all that his neighbours could say, he threw off his coat and lighted a torch. Then, tying a rope around his legs, he gave the end to his friends, saying when he signaled to pull him out.

In he went, headfirst, holding the lighted torch before him. Stooping, he groped his way into the body of the cave. The torch made a dim circle of light; all the rest of the den was in terrifying darkness. Silence like death was around him.

He cautiously proceeded onward to an ascent. As he was slowly climbing it on hands and knees, he discovered the glaring eyeballs of the she-wolf just in front of him. Startled at the sight of the flaming torch, she gnashed her teeth and gave a sullen growl.

Putnam kicked the rope, and his friends, who were listening with painful anxiety and who heard the growling of the beast, pulled him out so quickly that his shirt was stripped over his head and his body was badly cut.

After he had adjusted his clothes, he loaded his gun with buckshot. Then holding the torch in one hand and the gun in the other, he entered again. This time the wolf assumed a still more fierce and terrible aspect, howling, rolling her eyes, and snapping her teeth. Then she dropped her head between her legs making ready to spring.

At this moment Putnam raised his gun and fired.

Stunned by the noise and suffocated with smoke, he felt himself being jerked backward out of the cave. His friends had heard the shot, and were pulling the rope.

He rested a few moments in the fresh air, while letting the smoke dissipate. Then in he went a third time.

The wolf lay stretched on the floor as if asleep. He put the torch to her nose to make sure that she was dead. Then he took her by the ears and kicked the rope.

His friends, with loud cheers, drew him out, and the wolf with him.

FROM PLOUGH TO CAMP

Israel Putnam did not stay on his farm. When the French and Indian War broke out, he enlisted. He served as major. He had many thrilling escapes from Indians. Once he was captured and tortured by savages, but was rescued by the French.

After many years’ service, he resigned and went back to his farm. When the news of the Battle of Lexington reached him, he was ploughing. He left his plough in the field, and unyoked his team. Then, in his old farm-clothes, he sprang on a horse and galloped off to Governor Trumbull for orders.

“Go,” said the Governor, “to the seat of action.”

“But my clothes, Governor!” exclaimed Putnam.

“Oh, never mind your clothes,” answered he, “your military experience will be of service to your countrymen.”

“But my men, Governor! What shall I do about my men?”

“Oh, never mind your men,” said he, “I’ll send your men after you.”

So without waiting to change his soiled farm-clothes, Putnam put spurs to his horse and in a single day rode all the way to Cambridge.

He attended a council of war held by the Americans, returned to Connecticut, raised a regiment, and went back to Cambridge in time to take part in the Battle of Bunker Hill. There on Prospect Hill he unfurled the new Banner of Connecticut, which, as a cannon fired a salute, was seen to rise and unroll itself to the wind.

When Washington, appointed by Congress to be Commander-in-Chief, arrived at Cambridge, and saw the redoubts that had been cast up by Putnam and his men, he said to Putnam:--

“You seem, General, to have the faculty of infusing your own spirit into all the workmen you employ.”

Washington had brought with him a commission from Congress, making Israel Putnam a Major-General.

HE MADE WASHINGTON LAUGH

General Putnam once had the honour of making Washington laugh heartily.

It was during the Siege of Boston.

There was a traitor in camp. No one knew who he was. A strange woman--a spy--had delivered a letter, intended for him, to the wrong person. It was laid before Washington. It was in cipher. Washington ordered the woman to be arrested, but she was gone.

Not long after, as Washington was standing in the upper window at Headquarters, he saw the oddest sight.

It was stout “Old Put” himself, in all his regimentals, mounted on his horse, proudly cantering up to Headquarters. Behind him, seated on his saddle-bow and hanging on like grim death, was a very fat woman. “Old Put” had captured the spy.

Washington burst into a hearty laugh. He hurried to the top of the stairs, just as “Old Put” escorted the fat woman into the hall. Washington, as gravely as he could, called down, in his severest tones, that unless she confessed _everything_, a halter was waiting for her.

She confessed immediately, and the traitor in camp was found.

A GENEROUS FOE

Israel Putnam was brave, bluff, and honest, and he was also compassionate.

During the French and Indian War, the enemy’s wounded lay dying and neglected on one of the battle-fields.