Chapter 2

Such a thing was unheard of. It was against the law of the settlers to trade firearms or ammunition with the Indians. How it had been done, or by whom, was a matter that must be looked into at once. The people of the Upper Plantation had seen nothing of the cook, though that was of small moment now.

Edward Hilton felt it was of utmost importance to return at once with Roger and Nonowit to the Lower Plantation.

On arriving there, a leader from Naumkeag was found who had brought the same disastrous word that the Indians were armed. He had received a message to the same effect from Weesagascusatt. It threatened serious danger for the colonists. Just at dusk a messenger from Winnisimmet arrived at Piscataqua with the same rumor. By candle light that night a conference of grave importance was held. The Naumkeag leader reported that a man named Morton had opened his settlement at Mount Wollaston, Mass. to all discontented servants and lawless people. He had changed the name to Merrie Mount and there he allowed reckless, dissolute living. Upon hearing of the loss of the cook, he suggested that he might be found among the merrymakers.

Worst of all, Morton had established a trade of firearms with the Indians in order to obtain a greater number of furs. With guns in such skilled and treacherous hands, the white settlers stood in great danger.

The discussion that night resulted in an agreement to send letters, pleading for help, to Plymouth, which, though it stood in less danger, was a colony stronger than all the rest together. It was also near enough for an approach to Morton at Merrie Mount.

Roger was asked to carry the letters. With Nonowit as his guide, he started out on the following day. It was an adventurous trip, partly by land and partly by sea, for the man from Naumkeag was returning by water and carried the two along with him.

When well underway by boat, a darkened sky and wild wind drove the small vessel to the Isle of Shoals for shelter, where they found at anchor "The Whale," an English ship soon to cross the ocean. The hurricane was of short duration, and the messengers continued their journey.

Traveling afoot from Naumkeag, they soon noticed fresh footprints on the path, which suggested that someone was not far ahead of them. They continued with increased haste and added caution. Nonowit suddenly gave the signal for silence when, not far from the path, they saw through the thicket the broad shoulders of a white man eating by his camp fire. They remained silent until he turned and the jolly face of John was visible. He was doubtless on his way to Merrie Mount but allowed them to think he was merely off for a change. On learning what had happened and the message they carried, John allied himself to the two and begged to continue with them.

After a rough journey, the three arrived at Plymouth and delivered the letters, which were most carefully considered by the men of that colony. Realizing the serious danger such a center as Merrie Mount could be to all the settlements, it was decided to send a note of warning to Morton. He, however, treated it with scorn and in the same spirit rejected a second appeal. Then, with stern determination to take the man by force, Captain Miles Standish started with his company of soldiers. He returned with Morton, who was sent as a prisoner to England on "The Whale," the very ship the travelers had found about to sail from the Isles of Shoals. The various colonies shared the expense.

Roger, Nonowit, and John finally arrived home, triumphant with the news of success. But the wrong Morton had already done the settlers was never rectified, for the Indians had learned the value and power of a gun and never again were content without firearms.

STRAWBERRY BANK.

"Couldn't he find one anywhere, Mother?" asked Samuel.

"Why didn't he keep on looking?" persisted Richard, as the two boys braced themselves for the lurch of the vessel which was tossing on a choppy sea. Mrs. Chadborn steadied herself and continued the story they so loved.

"It was almost thirty years ago that Martin Pring sailed up the river to which we are now going. He searched the forests on either bank for a certain tree which he believed had the power to give people health and happiness. He found the deserted camp fires of the Indians, but, even though no savages disturbed his hunt, he sailed away disappointed because he could not find a sassafras tree."

"I believe I could find one there," boasted Richard, with a secret determination to do so, "for I know how they look."

This was in the early summer of 1631. It was a happy day when they landed on the New England shore close by the Mason Manor House, which had been built eight years before. Then it was the only one for many miles. Now some eighty men and women of many trades had come to settle about it and to build another which they would call the Great House.

There was much to interest Samuel and Richard in the salt works and the flakes where fish were dried, and in the fort which was built on the hillock between the Manor-house and the ocean.

But a few days after landing, Richard, much troubled, hunted for Samuel, whom he found fishing from the rocks.

"Sam, Mother's almost sick. Father says the voyage has tired her. He thinks she's homesick, too. What can we do about it?"

Samuel dropped his pole and sighed, "I wish we could find a sassafras tree."

"We will," cried Richard, jumping to his feet. "Father will let us go with him to the place where they are working on the Great House. It is several miles away, but we can hunt the woods there and camp with the men until they come back."

Mr. Chadborn readily consented, not knowing what plan the boys had in mind. But he warned them not to stray far, for, once lost, they were at the mercy of the Indians and the wild beasts.

They made a long search always keeping within the sound of hammers.

"I'll keep the path while you examine that tree off there," they constantly agreed, but never did they find one of the right kind. For two days they searched diligently, glad to get back to the cornmeal cakes and pea-porridge, and at night, quite as disappointed as Pring and doubtless more tired, they fell upon the bed of boughs their father had laid for them.

On the third morning Mr. Chadborn told them to keep within call, for they were to return to the Manor that day.

Samuel thought quite seriously, while Richard lay on the ground discouraged.

"What is it, Sam?" cried Richard, catching a gleam in his brother's eye, and ready always to grasp at a suggestion.

"Let's make baskets out of bark from a birch tree and fill them with these strawberries for Mother."

They went to work with much energy, surprised to find how abundantly the berries grew along the banks, and returned to the Manor so full of the account of that strawberry patch that their disappointment was almost forgotten.

"Oh, Mother, see what we have found! The bank was covered with berries, even after we had picked all these!"

"Why, boys, it is just like the home-land! Surely Captain John Smith had described this Place well for Prince Charles to name it New England. Already I feel better, for this land is not so strange since home things grow here."

The boys found that even the sassafras could not have given her more pleasure. They went to bed that night before dark, contented with their search and anxious to return to the strawberry field.

For twenty years the land about the Great House was called Strawberry Bank. Though that was almost three hundred years ago and the name was afterward changed to Portsmouth, there are now many people in New England, and some outside, who know just what spot is meant when they hear of Strawberry Bank.

THE BOYS' CATCH.

"Get off that boat! We can't be bothered by boys on this trip!"

Edward Godfrie, who had charge of the fisheries at Mason Manor, shouted with stern authority.

It was scarcely daybreak on a May morning in 1632. Six great shallops lay at anchor off the rocks. Five fishing boats were in readiness, while several skiffs were conveying fishermen and equipment for the day's work.

Godfrie's own boy, Hugh, and James Williams, regretfully climbed ashore.

"Leave that seine behind!" was the next order to the boatmen. The stretch of net was pitched out upon the rocks.

Every available worker at the Manor was ready to cast a line or haul a net on this trip, for the biggest catch possible was to be made that day. The Warwick, an English trading vessel of the Laconia Company, had already gone up the Piscataqua River and on her return would take a cargo of fish back to England. No later catch could be sufficiently salted and dried.

"To feed eighty people every day," grumbled Godfrie, "and keep a cargo on hand, can't be done even in these waters."

There had been little planting on this shore; so the fish already prepared for market had been eaten by the hungry settlers because of the delayed arrival of the Warwick with food supplies. Perhaps this accounts for Godfrie's irritation and anxiety for a good catch. When the last boat had started, he stepped into a skiff, picked up the oars, and pulled for the fishing fleet.

Four forlorn boys, for Samuel and Richard Chadborn had joined the others, stood on the shore and watched the sails against the pink of the morning sky. The glorious air and strong salt breeze made the land seem unbearable to them. They wandered to the flakes and on to the salt works. Francis Williams, James's father, manufactured the salt.

"Get away from there, boys," he shouted, as they appeared. "A big catch comes in tonight, and we need every grain!"

Log cabins were scattered about the estate for those who did not live in the Hall. Horses, cows, pigs, sheep, and goats had their sheds or wandered about at will. However, there was no interest in them for the boys, who sauntered back to the shore from which the boats had started.

"There are two skiffs left," suggested Hugh. "Let's go fishing for ourselves!"

"Yes!" exclaimed Sam, with a new idea. "And why not take that net and stretch it across the narrows in the little harbor? I saw the men do that one day."

It was a thought that aroused them all, perhaps because it required both daring and pluck. The net was a weighty one for their muscles, although they were stout, strong fellows for their years.

James's father felt relieved as he saw them start. At least the flakes and the salt would be unmolested. However, his attitude changed at sundown when the boys had not returned.

The fishing fleet brought back a set of disappointed men, for the catch had not been what was hoped for by many pounds. Godfrie's grumbling could be heard before he landed, nor was it lessened when he reached shore to find that his boy, with the others, was missing.

The sun set and the moon rose, yet nothing had been seen of the boys. An hour later the distant splash of oars on the quiet waters and excited boy voices brought all the Manor folk to the shore. The approach was so slow that there was great fear that some one had been hurt. Yet there was an elated tone as the voices came nearer. When they were within shouting distance there came a call for help.

A half-dozen strong men jumped into their skiffs and pulled with speed. In a half-hour's time two great boat-loads of fish were pulled ashore. The boys had stretched their net at low water across a narrow part of the stream. As the tide rushed in, it brought fish in a school of unusual size, which, caught by the current, had entered the little harbor instead of the main river.

This catch made up for the loss in the day's fishing. Men and boys set to work in the moonlight to clean the fish. They then spread them on the flakes for salting and drying.

Godfrie started a good cargo to the English markets, and each of the four boys carried the title of Captain for weeks to come.

THE FOREST GARDEN.

It was the spring of 1633. Richard and Samuel had watched the distant horizon for many days. At last came the shout, "A sail! A sail!"

Later, the Warwick dropped anchor. The boys soon climbed aboard, and there they found Rebecca Gibbons, an English girl, who had started with her mother to join her father, Ambrose Gibbons, who was helping establish the New Hampshire Colony for the Mason grant. John Mason had given the name because of his home in Hampshire, England.

"Then you are going on to Newichewannock," explained Richard. "Your father has built a house there for you. At the falls they have a saw-mill. It is the only one in New England."

Samuel, who had gone ashore, then returned with a package, which he tucked into Rebecca's hands with a whisper. She secretly hid this strange parcel as the vessel started.

The Warwick left its passengers and supplies at the Great House on Strawberry Bank, and continued up the winding Piscataqua, which seemed endlessly long to Rebecca. At last a final turn brought to sight the new home, and, best of all, her father, followed by his four helpers, hurrying down to the shore.

The house was a substantial one. There were also a barn, other small buildings, and a fine well, all surrounded by a palisade which protected the family from wild animals and hostile Indians.

The saw-mill kept a busy hum on the logs, making boards for immediate use. Many were also to be shipped to England on the returning vessel. Ambrose Gibbons and his men spent their time otherwise: in search for useful ores or minerals, or trading for furs to be sent back to the Laconia Company, who, in turn, kept the colonists supplied from English stores. Perhaps for these reasons the gardens were quite neglected, and so Rebecca's strange little parcel proved a double treasure.

Her spinning done with the spirit of a true pioneer, Rebecca explored the surrounding woods and soon knew them quite as well as the nooks and corners of her own dooryard. In one spot there grew a thick undergrowth, through which she crept and discovered a small clearing so closely shut in that it would never have been suspected.

"This is the spot for my secret," she declared and began to pull the grass by the roots. The next day she returned with spade and rake, and her mysterious package. It was to be a buried treasure, for here she opened her bundle and planted in various holes the kernels of yellow Indian corn which Samuel had given her.

"There!" she exclaimed, as she patted the loose earth. "This is to be my own secret, till I am quite ready to tell. Then I will surprise them."

The home people were too much occupied with their own interests to give attention to Rebecca's play-time. The Newichewannock Indians, whose settlement was near by, were camping elsewhere for the summer, so that no one even guessed the garden, or knew how well it was growing.

Some struggling grape vines and a few vegetables had been planted within the palisade, but small attention had been given to them. In fact, so little gardening had been done that the Autumn brought anxious days. No English vessel had come in, nor had the grain from Virginia arrived in Boston, where it was to be ground at the wind-mill and sent on to Strawberry Bank.

The meal-chest at the Newichewannock home was almost empty, and except for fish and game the food supply was low. The situation became serious. Ambrose Gibbons started, one crisp fall morning, for the Bank, hoping to obtain food of some sort. He took one man with him, while the other three with their axes started for a distant point to fell trees, not returning until night.

Rebecca ran off for awhile that afternoon to inspect her garden, which was now filled with a surprising growth of ripening corn.

"It might be picked at once," she whispered to herself. "But I think I will leave it for a big surprise. Father may not be able to get us food."

Quite elated over her splendid crop, she hastened back to the house. She was surprised to find the gate of the palisade open and still more astonished to see a tall figure in the kitchen.

Her frightened mother was showing the empty meal-chest to a fierce looking Indian. Rebecca did not then know it was Rowls, the Sagamore of the Newichewannock Camp. He had returned ahead of his people with a small but hungry band of Indians.

"He has come for food, dearie, but I cannot make him understand that we have nothing."

Rowls straightened himself and by motions again ordered Mrs. Gibbons to get him food. At the same time he showed a fine beaver skin for exchange. Empty cupboards and barrels were opened, but the fierce creature believed the food was hidden and raised his knife as a threat. At this a sudden thought struck Rebecca. With energy she motioned for him to wait. Then she darted to her secret garden, where she tore the precious ears from the stalks until her arms were full. Fearing for her mother in the meantime, she flew back to the house to find that Rowls had patiently waited.

It was what he wanted. With a satisfied grunt, he took the corn and presented Rebecca with the most beautiful beaver skin she had ever seen. After the Sagamore had gone and the palisade gate was bolted, Rebecca explained her secret garden to her surprised mother.

She then for the first time realized the disappointment of not bringing in her own crop, should her father return without food. But just then a whistle was heard outside the gate, and Ambrose Gibbons was admitted, bowed over with a heavy sack of grain, for the Virginia supply had that morning reached Strawberry Bank.

Soon after these events a grist-mill was established at Newichewannock, and gardens became a matter of more careful consideration.

THE FUR TRADE

The winter had passed since Rebecca Gibbons had traded her corn crop for a beaver skin. That piece of fur had become a much-beloved treasure to Becky. It covered her rag dolls in the daytime and served her as a blanket many a cold night.

The winter had been a rough one, filled with severe hardships. In spite of their knowledge of New England winters, even the Indians in their encampment close at hand suffered. Hostile tribes had at times surrounded the house a hundred strong. Added to these troubles there was a great scarcity of provisions, so that a longing for warmer days was coupled with an anxious hope for the returning English vessel. Supplies of all kinds were sadly needed.

One cold raw day in May, Rebecca wandered into the woods to gather early spring flowers. She suddenly realized that, in spite of her usual care, she had strayed beyond the sound of the buzzing mill. Searching in vain for a familiar spot, she at last shouted for help. No sound was heard in reply. She dropped to the ground, frightened by the thought of the many awful things that might happen. Was that a shadow at her feet? She started suddenly to find standing behind her a silent Indian squaw, with a pappoose strapped to her back. Without a word the woman turned and Rebecca followed, for she had recognized a squaw of the neighboring camp. It was a long walk home. As they passed the Newichewannock Camp, four forlorn shivering little Indians who had been huddling over the dying coals caught her attention.

Rebecca was stirred by the misery of their cold and hunger, quite forgetting how near her own household were to this same misery. On reaching home, determined to show her thanks for this safe return, the little girl hunted out her fishing pole and started for the river. She hoped to make a catch for these hungry people. She reached the rocks and cast her line like a true fisherman.

"Captain Neal will feel mean enough when he gets here and finds us all starved to death," she murmured as she jerked her pole only to find her line had caught and broken. Finally, with the disappointment of no fish, she was turning toward the house when a white gleam on the water caught her eye. It was from the sail of the Pide-Cowe, the English vessel just rounding the bend.

Rebecca dashed home with the news. That afternoon cornmeal, salt, beef, butter, sweet oil, oatmeal, and candles were landed within the palisade. There were men's coats, waistcoats, and children's coats, stockings, blankets, rugs, flannel and cotton cloth, as well as fish hooks and lines, lead, hammers, pewter dishes, and iron kettles.

Indians, gay in fringes and beads, arrived on the scene with loads of fur: otter, mink, fox, and beaver for trade. Ragged squaws and shivering pappooses followed. Captain Neal and his sailors mingled with hearty good cheer among them, while the white settlers acted as tradesmen, happy in the relief which this vessel had brought them.

Rebecca was wild with excitement. She knew this meant food for everybody. Each box and barrel was turned and inspected by Miss Becky. She poked over the piles of clothing and tried on the children's coats and even the men's coats, anything in fact that struck her fancy. Some bright beaded things caught her eye. Pulling at the English shag, she drew from the bottom of a pile a queer little garment labeled "Pappoose coat." After searching and tugging, she produced five of different sizes. Then her eye fell on the group of timid little creatures still clinging to their mother.

Rebecca knew that at this trading all the furs would go to buy food. Her wise little head thought, "These coats would make them so comfortable!" Perched on a salt-cask close to the pile she was soon absorbed in her own plans, which were quickly completed. Jumping down she excitedly ran to explain them to her mother, who had been watching the trading from the doorway of their home. Becky stood on tip-toe, awaiting her mother's decision. After a moment's thought, it came. The child rushed indoors and soon returned with her still beautiful beaver-skin.

"Captain Neal," she cried, before she had fairly reached him. "How many of these pappoose coats will you trade for this beaver?"

"You may have all for such a skin as that," he exclaimed as he stroked the soft fur.

With the five coats in her own possession, proud little Becky begged her mother's help. Together they fitted them to the five smallest Indian children. Trading ceased for a moment, while all eyes turned to the funny sight of these wild little creatures in English clothing. The settlers and seamen laughed aloud, while even the stolid faces of the old warriors looked pleased.

COATS, SHIRTS, AND KETTLES.

During the winter of 1637-8, at least three feet of snow remained on the ground from November 4th until March 5th. Broken ice was still in the rivers, when in March a coaster started from Boston with Mrs. Wheelwright and her five children and also friends of hers with their children.

Little Thomas, quite as round as the small iron kettle which he carried under his plump arm, trudged up the plank to the deck.

"Mother, see what Tom has!" exclaimed Susan with some disgust.

"Never mind, child," came the tired reply. "That kettle was forgotten in packing, and, if it pleases him, do let him keep it."

There were children enough on board to make the party a merry one in spite of the sharp cold winds. The vessel turned northward, rounded the coast to the Piscataqua River, and pushed its way among the ice chunks even into Great Bay, not stopping until it came to the foot of the falls in Squamscot River.

The Rev. John Wheelwright and several of his followers had already spent the winter about Piscataqua. The rough cabins, now built for their families, were not so comfortable nor so well furnished as the home Rebecca Gibbons had found at Newichewannock.

The children were delighted with the wild woods. The month gave them some warm spring-like days, and they soon established a play camp for themselves not far from the cabins. Edward and Joseph built a wigwam pointed at the top like those of the Squamscot Indians who camped along the river.

"Look," cried Susan with delight as she rested three poles together at the top, "this will stand over our fire, and we can swing Tom's kettle from it."