Chapter 32

"This monument shall utter of the past It hath no tongue; and yet Demosthenes, Or Roman Tully, never stirred the breasts Of gaping citizens with subtler speech, Than shall this pile of stones the wayfarers. Who pass this way."

ANONYMOUS.

While with rapid steps through the tempestuous night the retiring party were seeking the forest, one of them, the only one in the dress of the whites, and who for that reason had not ventured into the cabin of the jailer, but had kept watch on the outside, approaching Sassacus, said:

"Let the feet of the chief be swift, for many warriors will be after him with the morning light."

"My brother!" said the delighted Sagamore, recognizing the voice of Arundel. "Let not my brother be afraid. The forest loves Sassacus, and tells him all its secrets."

"Yet remain not here, my friend, my Sassacus, nor be troubled about Neebin. I will take care of her, and she shall be restored to thee."

"Sassacus trusts his young white brother," said the Indian, "He hears Neebin singing by the river of the Pequots."

"We part here, and perhaps forever," said Arundel. "Farewell, Sagamore. A nobler heart than thine never beat in savage or Christian bosom. I will never forget you."

He wrung the hand of the chief, and, turning, was instantly lost in the darkness.

The occasion permitted no further words, and, as the two separated, it was with a glow of pleasure on the part of each. Arundel reflected with satisfaction on the success of his enterprise, and the Sagamore's enjoyment of his recovered freedom was heightened by the thought that he had been remembered by one who had so much attracted him. The young man succeeded in reaching his quarters without being discovered, and we now leave him, to accompany those with whom he had been associated.

So well had their measures been taken, and with such good fortune executed, that they were already deep in the woods before the settlement was aroused by the alarm given by the sentinel.

"They may make as much noise as they choose, for their own pleasure," said Philip, laughing, as the report of the culverins, which startled the colonists from their sleep, were heard; "but it is only a useless pother, and a vain rubbing of drowsy eyes. I should like to see how valiant Captain Endicott will look, when he finds that the bird has flown."

"In thy present habiliments of a savage?" said the Knight.

"Nay," answered the soldier. "I care not to be seen naked, and stained up like an Aberginian. I was half ashamed of myself, especially before the lady, though there was not much light."

"It were well," said the Knight, "to cast our slough before we chance to be seen by Indians, notwithstanding they may be friendly. We must retire deep, too, into the forest, for I mistake much the character of Winthrop and his council, if desperate means be not adopted to avenge the doings of this night."

This indeed appeared to be the opinion of all, to judge from the haste with which they pushed steadily on, resting not until they had reached the wigwam of the chief whereto Spikeman had been taken. Here, the first care of the white men was to wash off the paint from their persons, not without a half-jesting objection from the Sagamore.

"The two friends of Sassacus," he said, "have Indian hearts; why should they not keep their Indian skins? Let them come with me, and they shall become great sachems over the tribes that listen to the voice of the little salt lake."

Philip, who was in high spirits at the success of their enterprise, and whose philosophy enabled him always to enjoy the present moment, was ready with an answer.

"A tempting offer," he said; "and, by the head of King Charles, (his favorite oath), better, I trow, than this hand-to-mouth life we have lately been leading. Plenty of bear's meat and venison, and no prisons, Sagamore! Verily, thy words are pleasant."

"The deer shall come to lick the hands of my brothers, and the bear offer his steaks, and they will be as free as the wind on the tops of the hills. They shall also have many squaws, and young wives shall smile on them when the old are wrinkled and cross."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Philip. "I misdoubt whether that would suit all round. But, Sagamore, if I should ever have the luck to get a nice white squaw, I will ask her opinion; and if she fancies the plan of my having half a dozen wives, I will consider it."

"A truce to this trifling," said Sir Christopher. "It is all sport with thee, Philip, but dost not remark it begins to be earnest with the chief?"

"He is quick-witted enough to understand," answered Joy. "Why, Sir Christopher, these salvages laugh so seldom, that they ought to be encouraged when they begin. I fear me that the long faces of the folk at the settlement are catching, and that the poor Indians are more than half spoiled already. Now, according to my judgment, it is a human privilege to laugh. Some say, to be sure, that dogs and horses laugh, but I never heard anything that amounted to more than a snicker, and that I suppose they caught from being with people."

"Sassacus," said the Knight, "this is no longer any place for thee. The white men are at this moment seeking me, and will soon be also on thy track, and show no mercy. The voices of thy tribe are shouting thy name through the forest, and calling thee home. Here and now we part."

"Sassacus is troubled," replied the Sagamore, "about his little sister. How shall he answer his mother, when she asks after Neebin?"

"Neebin is in no danger," said the Knight; "and though she were, thy remaining could do no good. But I will stay, and if artifice can avail--for force we have none--Neebin shall be restored to her mother."

"My brother speaks well," said the Sagamore, having thus secured another guardian for the sister whom he tenderly loved. "He shall stay, but Sassacus will return to the river of the Pequots, and will speak a loud word in the ears of his tribe, and they shall fill their quivers with arrows, and sharpen their tomahawks, and many will come back with him to ask for Neebin. Sassacus will go alone, and will leave Towanquattick."

"Leave not the Paniese behind," said the Knight. "That were only to expose him to unnecessary danger."

But the chief was not be diverted from his purpose. To every objection he replied: "A great chief takes not back the word he has spoken. Were he to do so, what would become of the respect of his people?"

Yet, notwithstanding the peremptory tone wherewith he had announced his determination, very soft was the voice, and gentle the manner of the Sagamore, as he addressed his follower:

"Towanquattick," he said, "is my friend, and will watch over the little Pequot bird that has strayed into the trap of Owanux."

"Towanquattick will watch," was the answer.

"Stay to teach the little bird to fly away, or until I return with my warriors. Sassacus goes now like a brook just starting from the ground; but he will come back like a mighty river when angry 'Hpoon pours its swollen waters into the salt lake. Sassacus hath said."

The words were pronounced with a dignity and gravity that impressed those who heard them, and seemed to communicate some of the daring of the speaker; but the wiser Knight saw the rashness of their import, and determined to convince the Sagamore of the impolicy of the course proposed. Taking him for that purpose on one side, that the chief might speak uninfluenced by the presence of his follower, he represented to him the superior strength of the English, and the impossibility of prevailing in any contest until a complete union was established among the tribes.

"Behold!" he said: "these strangers are as one man, and across the salt lake come in ships from time to time fresh forces. They are clad in armor thy arrows' cannot pierce, and wield the thunder and the lightning. What have the Pequots to oppose, but naked bodies and uncertain arrows?"

"Owanux are few, and the Indians many," replied the Sagamore. "Sassacus will bury the tomahawk with the Narraghansetts, and exchange wampompeag with the Taranteens, and they unite against the strangers. The eyes of Sassacus are opened. There can be no peace with Owanux."

"Good!" answered the Knight, whose apprehensions, lest plans which he cherished might be defeated by the precipitancy of the chief, were quieted by the answer, knowing that the pacification of the tribes among themselves was no easy matter, and would require time. "Good! the eyes of the Sagamore are sharp. He is wise when he says that he will do nothing until he has made friends with the Narraghansetts and the Taranteens. Farewell, then, and be that the compact between us."

The chief now turned away, and, calling Towanquattick, the two began to dig a hole in the ground with pointed sticks. The white men, looked on in silence, rightly judging it to be some ceremony, and waiting for its explanation. After a cavity of a foot in depth, and about the same diameter was dug, the Indians ceased their labor, and the chief answered the wondering eyes of his friends.

"This hole," he said, "shall tell all Indians who see it of the captivity of Sassacus, and of the white men, his deliverers."

"I never heard before of a hole talking," said Joy.

"It will talk," said the chief. "When Sassacus passes by with his Paniese he will tell them that here was a great parting, and Towanquattick will do so also, and they shall tell it it to their children, and so the tale shall run, as the waters of a spring follow one another until they become a lake. So the hole shall speak, long after I have departed with my friends for the happy hunting grounds. Hole!" he added, addressing it as if it were capable of understanding what he said, "Sassacus is sad because he leaves Neebin behind, but say thou not that. Say to all who behold thee, that Soog-u-gest and Sassacus were friends; say that when Owanux put Sassacus into a box, Soog-u-gest and two other white men, and Towanquattick, let him out; say that Soog-u-gest and the other white men, and Towanquattick, remain to watch that no harm shall happen to Neebin, whom Owanux have made a prisoner; and say that Sassacus has gone after his warriors. This is enough for thee, O hole, to remember. Forget not lest thou be ashamed."

While the Pequot chief was speaking, the Paniese paid the strictest attention, evidently striving to fasten the speech in his memory. It was a custom common among the natives, though witnessed by the Knight and Joy for the first time, whereby, on the same principle that more civilized communities erect monuments to perpetuate the memory of events, the Indians transmitted to posterity matters of interest. The hole was usually dug either by the side of some traveled path or on the spot where the event desired to be commemorated took place. They who passed by naturally inquired into its meaning, and the facts, known to few at first, became of public notoriety.

When the ceremony was completed, the Sagamore of the Pequots, as if unwilling by further words to confuse the record, turned away in silence, and took his solitary way through the forest, to seek the seat of his tribe.