Chapter 16

And, Douglass, more I tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of pride,-- Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near, * * * * I tell thee thou'rt defied.

MARMION.

Three weeks followed after the events recorded, without the occurrence of anything deserving special mention. The life of the colonists went on as usual, in erecting new tenements, in cultivating their farms, and in such other occupations as their situation made necessary. But little was seen of the Knight in the settlement, it being understood that he was amusing himself as usual in the sports of the forest. He did occasionally, however, make his appearance in the village, in the prosperity of which he manifested an interest. Notwithstanding the slighting manner in which he had spoken of Arundel, and the displeasure of Spikeman at the favor which he showed the young man, his conduct toward him remained unchanged. As before, Arundel was frequently at Sir Christopher's place, and often accompanied him on short expeditions, though never on distant excursions, which required several days.

The interest of the young man in the Knight increased daily. Sir Christopher's manners were so gracious, his temper so sweet and equable, and the sentiments he expressed so noble, that it was impossible an ingenuous youth should escape their fascination. Yet did Arundei fancy that the attachment which he felt was hardly returned. It might be a mere fancy springing from a jealous sensitiveness, which is disappointed if it be not paid in the full measure of its own coin. Perhaps the inexperienced youth was unreasonable in expecting from his senior, schooled to greater caution by intercourse with the world, the demonstrativeness which characterized his own conduct. Be it as it may, upon more acquaintance, the Knight seemed to his young friend to resemble nothing so much as a polished rapier, which, while it shines to the eye, is cold to the touch. Of the pale lady Geraldine he saw little. He had noticed accidentally a circumstance in reference to her, for which he was unable to account. Having arrived late one afternoon at the residence of the Knight, he found, upon inquiring after him, that he had been absent several days, and was not expected to return for two or three more. Arundel then asked to see the lady, but was answered that she was confined sick to her room and unable to receive any one. Late as it was, for the sun was setting, he was preparing to return to the settlement, when he heard sounding from the edge of the forest the Knight's hunting horn. He stepped to the outer door, and beheld Sir Christopher advancing with the lady.

The former was habited in his usual hunting gear, while the dress of the lady Geraldine consisted of an over-coat of dark cloth, falling just below the knee, fitting tightly about the chest, and rising high into the neck. On her feet were moccasins, of the natural russet shade of the leather, laced up the calf of the leg, so that they nearly reached the skirt, and on her head she wore a black leather cap, ornamented with an ostrich's feather, beneath the protection of which her hair fell down in plaits upon her back. The dress was a mixture of the civilized and of the savage, and as she approached, with a little color in her cheeks, occasioned by the exercise, Arundel thought that she looked even beautiful. Her manner appeared to him to betray confusion, but there was no embarrassment on the part of the Knight. He welcomed his visitor with his customary politeness, merely inquiring how long it was since he had arrived, adding, that his cousin had been persuaded to accompany him on a hunting expedition, for the sake of her health, which would account for the disorder of his house. The two were accompanied by several natives, among whom was the little girl; but their hunt it would seem had been unsuccessful, for they had not much game. A falsehood had been told by the domestic, evidently to conceal the absence of the lady, which Arundel could explain only on the supposition that it was designed to mislead others and not himself, and was said to him only because the servant was unable to discriminate.

In spite of the vigilance of Spikeman, Arundel, aided by the cunning of Prudence, and the connivance of the Assistant's wife, had two or three times seen Eveline; and the lovers, with protestations of eternal fidelity, encouraged each other to look forward to happier days. Philip Joy too, though in disobedience to the orders of the Knight, who had strictly commanded him not to put foot upon the soil under the jurisdiction of Winthrop, continued to keep up a communication with his mistress. Pretty Prudence, like a beleaguered city hard bested, kept the enemy Spikeman at bay; nor did he, with all his parallels and circumvallations, make any progress. Not so, however, thought the Assistant, (for what man cannot the cunning of a coquette deceive?) who every once in a while fancied the fortress was about to capitulate. Whenever he began to despair, a few sweet smiles, or a word of encouragement, were sufficient to re-kindle hope; for though the girl hated him, she yet took a mischievous pleasure in practising her caprices on him, and keeping him dangling at her apron strings.

Such was the state of things, when one morning a canoe was seen entering the harbor of Boston, containing a couple of Indians. They paddled directly up to the wharf, where several persons were standing, looking on, while others were engaged in various employments connected with commerce, and sedately stepping on shore, one of them hauled the canoe upon the beach, beyond the rising of the tide. This being done, they advanced in the direction of the group of white men. The one who was evidently the leader, as well from his walking first, (the other stepping in his track,) as well as from the superior richness of his dress, which was the skin of a moose loosely disposed over his shoulders as a robe, and that of a deer divested of its hair, beautifully tanned, and painted in bright colors, for a breech cloth, with the feathers of some bird in his scalp lock; while the garments of his follower were merely deer skins dressed with the hair; pronounced, as soon as they came within about a rod of the white men, the single word "Taranteen," and then both stopped. So similar were the dress and general appearance of the Indian tribes to one another, that the eye alone would have been insufficient to detect a difference; but the utterance of the word indicated at once to which one the new comers belonged, and their desire to have it immediately understood. Various questions were now asked by the curious, who thronged around the savages, but no answer was returned save the word Taranteen, and some words that sounded like an attempt at French.

The gallant Captain Sparhawk, who, to judge from the part he took in the conversation, and the emphasis wherewith he expressed his opinions, was the principal personage present, having exhausted his stock of Spanish, and German, and French phrases which he had picked up in his trading voyages, as well as sundry uncouth sounds it was his pleasure to call Indian, in a vain attempt to make himself understood, at last decided that the only proper course was to take them before the Governor. At the mention of Winthrop's name, the Indian's face was lighted up with a look of intelligence, and he made a motion With his head as though he knew for whom it was intended.

"Do ye see now, my hearties," cried the gratified Captain, "the ignorant beggar understands me after all. I mistrusted, from the beginning, that he was only playing 'possum, as they say down in Virginny. For look ye, ye lubbers, it would be strange if a man who has been buen' camarada with the Spaniard, and guter Gesell with the Dutchman, and parleywood with Mounseer, and made the weight of his ship in gold for his owners, out of these here salvages, shouldn't be able to speak their gibberish. It's not so hard after all, do ye see, when one gets the weather guage of it. But here, some o' ye, gallivant the red skins up to the Governor, (a good enough fellow in his way, I dare say, if he were not so d----d hard on drinking healths,) with my compliments, with the compliments of Capt. Sparhawk, (do ye hear?) and let him know how they drifted ashore. And hark ye, if he should be inclined to a little agreeable conversation with the tanned hides, just let him send me an invitation, and I shall be happy to officiate as interpreter. Heave ahead, Bill Pantry, and take command of the squad. You've been long enough under my command to know how to do the honors in a gentlemanly way."

Accordingly Bill Pantry, in obedience to the Orders of his Captain, which seemed to the bystanders the most sensible suggestion, took possession of the Indians, and escorted them to the Governor's house.

It so happened, by an accident, that the invaluable services of Capt. Sparhawk, as a linguist, were not needed on the occasion, for upon the strangers being announced by one of the soldiers on guard at the door, the Knight of the Golden Melice was found to be with Winthrop.

As the Indians entered the room, Winthrop rose, and with great urbanity, offered his hand to him who appeared to be the principal. To his astonishment, however, the Taranteen extended not his own.

"How is this?" exclaimed Winthrop. "Is this intentional discourtesy, or are ye ignorant of the customs of the English?"

Hereupon the principal Indian uttered a sentence or two, unintelligible to Winthrop.

"Thou dost understand the language of the Taranteens, Sir Christopher," he said. "May it please you, who are so happily here, to explain his meaning?"

"He says," replied the Knight, "that he has been sent as a messenger by his nation, and that he hopes you will respect his character."

"Surely," said Winthrop. "How could he imagine the contrary? Who can impeach our faith?"

"You forget," said the Knight, "what suspicions must have been engendered by the unhappy termination of the late embassy."

"It will be difficult to persuade me," said Winthrop, "that it was other than a broil, wherein our people had no part. I cannot be deceived," continued he, waving his hand, observing that Sir Christopher was about to reply, "by the cunning stratagem resorted to, for the purpose of averting suspicion. But a truce with this. Say to him he is as safe as his child, if he has one, in his wigwam. What says he now?" he inquired, after the Knight had interpreted his words, and the Indian replied.

"He asks where are the four companions of Pieskaret."

"Tell him I know not, but suppose they have either returned to their homes, or been destroyed by hostile Indians."

When this was explained, the stately savage sadly smiled, and shook his head. He then spoke again.

"He says," answered the Knight, to the look of Winthrop, "that it is not the custom of Taranteen ambassadors to run away, and that they know how to protect themselves from the Aberginians."

"I protest," said Winthrop, "that, however different my own opinion, I do half believe that these blinded savages in fact imagine their tribes-men were murdered by the whites. To be deplored is it that such an opinion should get footing among them, staining as it doth our good name and pregnant with many possible evils. Assure him, Sir Christopher, of my grief at what has happened; of my sincere desire to discover how Pieskaret lost his life; of what has become of his missing people; and of my readiness, if it can be shown that an Englishman has in anywise connection therewith, to render to the Taranteens perfect satisfaction."

The Indian listened to all this with the deepest attention as it was explained to him, and then replied:

"Pieskaret is gone, and his kindred will see him no more The eyes of his wife are swollen with weeping, and his children, like little birds in the nest, open their mouths for food; but Pieskaret comes not to fill them. His feet were like those of a deer, and his voice like the shouting of the great salt lake on the rocks. Woe is me, for I shall see my brother no more. But he is glad on the happy hunting grounds of brave warriors. It is well with him: we know where he is, but we know not where are our brothers who were with Pieskaret. We know that the English love slaves, and we fear that they have made slaves of our brothers. We will turn away our eyes from the widow of Pieskaret and his little children, and will stop our ears so that we cannot hear their crying, and forget the fate of Pieskaret, if the white chief will return our brothers."

"Alas! unhappy that I am," said Winthrop, "that this new suspicion should fill the minds of the savages. Assure him, upon my faith as a Christian--upon my honor as a gentleman--make the asseveration as solemn as thou canst--that he suspects us falsely."

But the grave chief abandoned not the idea. With eyes searching the countenance of the Governor, he said:

"The Taranteens will give many belts of wampompeag and will heap up their canoes with skins for Owanux, as a ransom for their tribes-men."

"Tell him," said Winthrop, "that, overlooking the insult of doubting my word, if they were to give me belts of wampompeag extending from here to the sun, and skins to cover the ground from Shawmut to his country, I could not restore his tribes-men, for I know nought of them."

"When my brothers came to visit the white chief, they placed themselves in his keeping and feared not the darkness, for they knew that he was very powerful. They slept like a pappoose on its mother's bosom."

"I understand," replied Winthrop, "thou wouldst make me responsible in particular for the misfortune of thy friends; but my conscience reproaches me not If they are dead, it is probably in consequence of their own default; and, I repeat, I believe not that an Englishman had a hand in their destruction."

Here the Taranteen, who acted as spokesman, turning to his companion, uttered a sentence; whereupon the other, feeling in the folds of his deer skin robe, produced a pipe, the bowl of which was made of a reddish clay, into which was inserted, for a stem, a reed beautifully ornamented with black and white shells, and bright colored feathers of various birds. This the orator received from the hands of his follower, and again addressed the Governor:

"The Taranteens are a great nation, and they love peace. It pleases them to see the smoke as it ascends from the calumet. It is more beautiful to their eyes than the white summer clouds which protect them from the heat of the sun. They would be glad to smoke with Owanux, but they cannot do it now, because should they attempt it, the blood of Pieskaret would put out the fire and the groans of his four brothers would agitate us so that the pipe would fall from our hands. I want the white chief to strengthen our hands, so that we can hold the calumet firmly, and perhaps that will satisfy Pieskaret too."

"I understand him," said Winthrop, after the Knight had interpreted, "but let him proceed."

"If the white chief will deliver to us the murderers of Pieskaret, and release our brothers from slavery," said the Taranteen, slowly and impressively, "it is well, and we will smoke with Owanux and forget what has happened; but if he will not,"--and here his voice sounded like the growl of a bear, as, putting his hand into his bosom, he took out a small package and handed it to Winthrop,--"we speak to the white chief thus:"

The Governor received the package, and saw that it consisted of a tomahawk in the centre, around which were placed several small arrows tipped with a red dye, and tied together with the stuffed skin of a rattle-snake, the rattles of which sounded as he took the ominous present into his hand. He waited composedly until the Knight had explained the words, though he comprehended at once the meaning of the savage, and then answered:

"If the Taranteens are a great nation, they are a nation of fools, else why do they not listen to my words? I tell thee a white English chief cannot lie; the Great Spirit will not permit a Christian chief to lie. In vain have I asserted our innocence in this matter; in vain have I expressed sorrow, and humiliated myself to thy reproaches. But the English know how to treat those who, faithless themselves, believe not in the faith of others. Behold!"

Winthrop drew his rapier, and cut the snake skin so that the tomahawk and arrows fell apart. Placing the skin upon a table, he next took up the arrows, and, breaking several at a time, let the pieces drop at his feet. Then seizing the tomahawk, he dashed it with such violence on the hearth of the fire-place, that the handle flew off and the stone head was broken. Lastly, taking down from a nail in the wall whereon they hung, a powder-horn and pouch of bullets, he filled the skin with powder and ball, and held it out to the Taranteen.

"Return now to thy people," he said, looking at the Indian with a stern aspect, "and tell them what thou hast seen and heard. Tell them that, though the English love peace, they fear not war. Tell them that we have never wronged the Taranteens by word or deed, nor is it our intention now to punish them for their injurious suspicions. But tell them, also that, as I have broken their arrows and dashed their war-axe, in pieces, so will I serve them, if the north-wind brings to my ears a whisper of evil designs from them. And as I have stuffed the snake skin with powder and ball, so will I fill their bodies with the same. Return."

As Winthrop uttered these words with a firm voice and imposing manner--words so explained by his actions that they needed no interpretation--he was confronted by the Taranteen with a dignity equal to his own. The demeanor of the savage was as calm as if he were smoking a pipe in his wigwam. He quietly followed every motion with his eyes, listened with all attention, as if he understood what was said, and, when Winthrop had concluded, took the loaded skin and handed it to his follower. The inferior Indian shrunk as he received the portentous powder and shot in their strange envelope, but whatever apprehensions he felt, he succeeded in conquering them, taking care however to hold the missive at a little distance from his person.

"Tender now our hospitality," said Winthrop to the Knight, "so long as they remain among us."

"But the Taranteens showed no disposition to accept the offer. Something was growled by the principal one, which Sir Christopher interpreted to intimate a desire to depart.

"Be it so," replied Winthrop. "Moulton," he added, calling a soldier, "take with you Gamlyn, and escort these savages with all civility to their canoes. And should they desire anything to promote the comfort of their return, let it be furnished and placed to my account."

The orders of the Governor were explained to the Indians by the Knight, and they left the room in the care of the soldiers.

"Sir Christopher," said Winthrop, on their departure, "this is a miserable coil. Now will these misguided savages, instigated I doubt not by the emissaries of Rome, soon be yelling upon our borders, and seeking to imbrue their hands in our blood. Were we dealing only with the natives, there might be some hope of soothing their ferocity and averting an outbreak of their insane rage; but nothing can be done with the Jesuit--more subtle than the serpent, more fell than the Hyrcanian tiger."

"Have the disciples of Loyola penetrated to this fierce tribe?" inquired Sir Christopher.

"Art thou ignorant that the cunning father Le Jeune, the daring Brebeuf, and I know not what instigators of mischief besides, are said to be among them? Pity is it truly that so much learning and so great zeal should be expended in so bad a cause."

"It was known before I left England that these men had made some little progress among the natives in Southern America, where gold and silver abound; but who would have looked for them in these colder and comparatively inhospitable regions? May there not be some error in this matter, and our fears of the dreaded Order have converted interested and malignant traders into members of the so-styled Company of Jesus?"

"It may be so, for our information is not so accurate as I wish; but this we do know, that a strange activity hath of late manifested itself in the movements of these foul conspirators, against uncorrupted Christianity the world over; and only a short time since was it that godly Mr. Eliot discovered, on the neck of a squaw, one of their brass idols made into the image of the Crucified, which, in righteous indignation, he took away from the woman. Deluded and deluding, alas, if they have found their way into this land!"

"It is not necessary to suppose the presence of any member of the Company of Jesus, in order to account for the image on the neck of the Indian woman. The French traders are Catholics, and one of them might have given it to her."

"True; yet doth my jealous mind connect these men with every perversion and corruption of Gospel truth. They are at this moment as well the plotting mind as the executing arm of the rotten Church of Rome. The spirit of Loyola would seem lately to have left Hades, to animate his followers upon earth. Be sure, Sir Christopher, that where error and mischief are, there is the Jesuit."

"It is ever a consolation," said the Knight, devoutly, "and in especial in these troublous times, that the Founder of the Church hath promised to be with her to the end of the world, and that the gates of hell shall not prevail against her."

"If they have stolen among the innocent natives to intercept that knowledge of divine truth which it is our purpose to impart, we will, by God's grace, defeat their designs and bring to naught their inventions. In this Christian work it may be my desire to engage your services, Sir Christopher."

"It needs not that I should make protestations of zeal, or offers of my poor self; yet do my feelings prompt me to say that my badge 'the honey-bee,' is not more diligent in collecting his precious store than I will be in such a cause."

"Then expect to have thy zeal and courage put to the test. Should I request thee to visit the Taranteens in their own country, what would be thy reply?"

The Knight paused, as if the question was of importance sufficient to require consideration, so long, indeed, that Winthrop thought it proper to resume.

"I know," he said, "that it is a service not unattended with danger; yet did danger never frighten a noble soul, but doth ever act as an incentive. There is no one save thyself well acquainted with the tongue of these savages, (Mr. Eliot's knowledge thereof, I observe, is imperfect, and he is in other respects but poorly qualified for the enterprise), and who would be able to make the impression upon them and obtain the information which I desire."

"Disclose more perfectly your wishes, right worshipful sir," said Sir Christopher.

"I call thee to a danger which, possessed I thy marvellous skill in languages, I myself would meet. I will unbosom myself. The thought of a conflict with the Taranteens distresses me. It can result only in ruin to them and injury to the budding prospects of our colony. Our interest is peace. We want trade with the natives. We want their confidence. Without the latter there can be no trade, neither can we counteract the plots of our enemies, nor find opportunity to introduce the Gospel among them. The mysterious calamity which befel the embassy hath sadly shaken my expectations; but I am unwilling to abandon the field. What means are in my power I will apply to restore a good understanding. Moreover, I would be more fully assured of the truth or falsehood of the reports that there are Jesuits among the Taranteens. Where is the man more competent to take upon himself this important trust--one which hath for its object to prevent effusion of blood--to detect the traitorous plots of a wily and deadly foe, and to advance the cause of unadulterated religion, than thyself?"

The Knight bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, but said nothing.

"I seem to see the finger of God displayed," continued Winthrop. "For this very purpose wert thou sent among us; yet, noble sir, notwithstanding the importance of the object to be attained and the honor to accrue to him who shall secure them for us, let me not urge thee unreasonably. Seest thou imminent danger in the enterprise, undertake it not. I pray thee, without regarding aught that I have said, to act according to thy better judgment."

"It was through no apprehension of peril that I was silent," said the Knight. "Danger and I have been too long acquainted to distrust one another. I did but turn over in my mind the proper means to accomplish your designs. I place myself at your disposal, and am only rejoiced that (lamenting the occasion) I can be employed in any manner to advance a good work."

"Heartily I thank thee, Sir Christopher, for the cheerful tender of thy service, though it was only what was to be expected from a man of thy chivalric temper. I will take this thing into further consideration, and will shortly acquaint thee with my conclusion."

"And, meanwhile, I will prepare myself to fulfil the wishes of your worship," answered the Knight, preparing to take leave.

"Commend me," said Winthrop, "to the friendly thoughts of Lady Geraldine, with sincerest hopes that the peace which surpasseth understanding may nestle into her heart to chase away her melancholy, and may her steps be guided unto the true fold, where only safety is to be found."

"With many thanks," returned the Knight, "I seek my hermitage in the woods."