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Standish of Standish, a novel by Jane Goodwin Austin |
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Chapter 28. Philip De La Noye |
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_ CHAPTER XXVIII. PHILIP DE LA NOYE "'T is a year agone to-day since we in the Mayflower sighted land in this place," said Bradford to Standish, as the two stood beside the gun just fired for sunset when all obligatory labor ended in the village. "Ay, is it so? Well, it hath been a year of note in more ways than one, and the next is like to be as adventurous. Ha! Look you there, Bradford! Dost see that Indian runner breasting the hill. Some great news, surely,--come, let us go to meet him." "Squanto is before us. See him leap the brook"-- But Standish was already half way down the hill, and presently in the open space already spoken of as the Town Square he and two or three of the other leaders met the runner, who escorted by Squanto came panting up the hill from the brook, and after the usual salutations informed the governor that he was sent from Aspinet, sachem of the Nausets, to inform the white men that a vessel had been watched feeling her way through the shoals around Cape Cod, and was now laying her course apparently for Plymouth. Not knowing whether this might be good or bad news, the sachem had felt it a friendly act to convey it to his new allies with the greatest possible dispatch. "And he did well, and both he and thou shall see that we are not ungrateful," replied Bradford courteously. "Tisquantum, take this man to the Common house, and see that he is suitably refreshed. And now, brethren, what meaneth this? Is it indeed good news or bad?" "Bad," replied Standish promptly. "For well do we know that no relief was to be sent us until our friends the traders had seen the first fruits of their Adventure, and as we perforce sent home the Mayflower empty, I for one expect to hear no more from Cheapside unless it be a rating." "There hath not been time for the Mayflower to go and return, were our friends never so willing to aid us," suggested the elder pacifically. "Then what think you, men?" persisted Bradford. "Allerton, Winslow, Warren, what say ye all?" "We know that the French are at war with England," suggested Winslow. "And this may be a privateer coming to harry the settlement." "In that case it were well to hide whatever we have of value and retreat to the woods with the women and children," said Allerton turning pale. "And leave our housen, and the Fort and its armament, and our boats!" exclaimed Standish contemptuously. "Nay, Governor, my counsel is that we at once arm ourselves, train what guns we can upon the offing, and if these indeed be buccaneers, French, Spanish, or Turks, receive them with a volley that shall leave little work for a second one. The women and children may retreat to the woods, and he who has any pots, or cups, or pans of value may bury them an' he chooses. My best treasures are Gideon and my snaphance, and I cannot spare them so long as I live to wield them." "That's the chat that suits me, neighbor," declared Hopkins in his usual rough, hearty fashion, while Allerton, an unwonted tinge of color upon his sallow cheek, hastened to avow himself as ready for fighting as any man since fighting was decided to be the best policy. And now Standish assumed control of the occasion and showed himself in his most becoming attitude. His quick eyes and ready hands were everywhere, and the somewhat sharp and terse military orders that sometimes had seemed a thought arbitrary now carried assurance in their tone, and strengthened the hearts of some and supported the determination of others, who left to themselves would have scattered like sheep without a leader. "Let each man arm and harness himself and report for inspection in the Town Square," was the first order, and while it was obeyed the Captain climbed the hill carrying the "perspective glass" made by Galileo himself during his exile in Holland, and brought to the new world by Governor Carver, whose widow bequeathed it to the colony as one of its chief treasures. He was followed by William Trevor, one of the seamen hired by the colony for a year, a fellow of quick eyesight and undaunted courage. The Captain silently and carefully adjusted his lenses, and then handed the glass to Trevor. "Now you, Bill, clap your eye to that and get it on yon headland, Farther Manomet, d' ye see?" "Ay, Captain, I have it, and can count the squirrels on the tree tops." "Canst tell a ship's topmast from a squirrel if one should heave in sight?" "Mayhap I could, master." "Well, then, watch for it, and so soon as any craft of any color, be it one of your squirrels on a chip, an Indian in a canoe, or a French man-of-war, send this boy Cooke tumbling down the hill to bring the news. Now, man, show thy discretion and thy wit." "Ay, ay, Captain, you may trust Bill Trevor for a keen lookout. When I sailed aboard a whaler"-- But already the Captain was out of hearing, and presently was inspecting his little army, mustered in the Town Square, each man armed and armored. Drawn up in two ranks the twenty men presented a striking array, for in the forefront stood the governor, the elder, the surgeon, Winslow, Allerton, Warren, Hopkins, Howland, Alden, and Peter Browne, ancestor of John Brown of Ossawatomie; while the file closers, if not men of equal note in affairs, were each one a sturdy and determined Englishman, ready to fight till the death and never guess that he could be conquered. The inspection over, the train band was dismissed with orders to stand ready to reassemble at a moment's warning, and meantime to make such dispositions of private property as seemed good to each man. Hardly was this order obeyed when from the Fort came Trevor's sonorous hail,-- "Sail ho!" and presently young Cooke came pelting down the hill reporting with a military salute to the captain. "Trevor saith, sir, that a ship of not over sixty ton is drawing around Manomet, and that she flieth no colors as yet." "Ha! Let us see then, let us see!" cried the captain, and two minutes later was at the top of the hill, glass in hand. "Hm! Square rigged, slender built--what say you, Trevor, is she a Frenchman?" "More like a Dutchman to my mind, sir." "Ah, then were we all right, and with a goodly new store of schnapps to comfort our souls, but my mind misdoubts me. Now let us see if we can train this saker to command the offing. Boy, run down the hill and fetch Billington and Master Hopkins. 'T will do no harm, and may--ay, this minion will sweep the Rock like a new broom. Here, Billington, come on man and lend me thy bull's neck and shoulders. I would shift the carriage of this saker. Ho, Hopkins, give us a little help here. There yeo-ho, men! Again, now then--yeo-ho! Now we have it, now! There, settle her in place, that's it, there! Now then, Trevor, how about the Frenchman?" "She is laying her course for this harbor, Captain. You may see her without the glass well enow, for she's going about to fetch Beach Point." "Is tide high enow to carry her over Brown's Islands, as Champlain calleth the outer flats?" asked Hopkins, who by fits liked to appear erudite. "Ay, 't is full water at noon to-day," replied Trevor, his eye glued to the glass. "Now then, now then, here she is making straight into the harbor," exclaimed Standish excitedly, and plunging down the hill followed by the rest, he made signal to Bart Allerton standing expectant at his own door to sound the "assembly" upon the trumpet which he had learned to manage with great precision. Ten minutes later the whole array of fighting men stood steady in their ranks, with the larger boys hanging in the rear, each carrying a spare gun, or some other weapon, and all eyes fixed upon the point where the stranger would appear as she beat her way into the harbor. Suddenly the captain waved his hand above his head, glancing up at the Fort where, under the folds of the British standard, stood Trevor, linstock in hand. Another moment, and out from the hoarse throat of the saker roared a defiant peal echoing grandly from hill to hill, startling the savages who covertly watched the arrival of new foes or new friends as the case might be, and rolling ominously across the waters of the harbor to demand the name of the intruder. "They be busy with their ancient-staff," reported Trevor presently, as he resumed the spy-glass. "There goes the bunting--ha--ay--run boy, and tell the captain 't is the red cross of Merrie England; 't is the home colors, boy!" But already the eager eyes in the Town Square had recognized the flag, and Standish lapsing from the martinet into the exile waved Gideon above his head shouting,-- "'T is our own flag, men; 't is the red cross of Old England! Three cheers boys, three cheers for the dear old flag! Now then!" And the glad shout arose, and again and again, not only from the bearded throats of men, but in the shrill treble of boys, and the dainty voices of girls, who just out of sight watched as women do, when life and honor hang in the balance. "Oh Mary, Mary maid, why art thou crying! Silly wench"-- "Nay, but thou 'rt crying thyself, Priscilla! Nay, now thou 'rt laughing!" "To think how John Alden turned white as any maid when the good news came!" sobbed Priscilla running in to fling her arms around Dame Brewster, who sat with folded hands and rapt face praying to the God of battles. "Oh mother, mother, they all are safe, and 't is an English ship. Belike, Fear and Patience and their brother are aboard." "Nay, dear maid, nay, be not so carried away. If indeed God sendeth my children"-- But the mere thought of such joy was too much for the self-control the poor mother so struggled for, and when the elder hastened into the house he found his wife weeping for joy upon Priscilla's heaving breast. "Nay then, wife, nay then, doest thou well?--and yet mine own eyes might but too easily rain with gratitude. Dame, wife I say, nay then--let us pray that in all things His will be done." And in less than an hour Mary Brewster was sobbing afresh in the stalwart embrace of her eldest son Jonathan, a young fellow of five-and-thirty, who full of health and courage was come to be the staff of her old age, and to bring news of the fair sisters who would come anon. For this was the Fortune, a little ship of fifty-five tons, dispatched by the Adventurers in London to carry over some of the colonists disappointed of a passage in the Mayflower, but principally to convey Robert Cushman, who came pledged to obtain the consent of the Pilgrims to a contract more favorable to their English friends than that they were disposed to undertake. With him came his son Thomas, a boy of fourteen, whom his father upon his hasty return in the Fortune left behind under charge of the governor, to whom he subsequently wrote, "I pray you care for my son as for your own;" and so well did Bradford train the boy soon orphaned and left entirely to his charge, that Thomas Cushman became successor of William Brewster as Ruling Elder of the Pilgrim Church, and now lies on Burying Hill beneath a goodly monument erected by his numerous descendants. But little on that bleak November day recked the boy of future honors or proud posterities, for he and his friend Thomas Prence, future governor of the colony, but then a merry youth of nineteen, were hand and glove with a gay company of lads and young men who had accepted the adventure of Pilgrimage as they would have sailed with Drake, or Hawkins, or Captain Cooke,--any leader who promised novelty, excitement, and the chance of hard knocks and treasure. So little responsible for their own welfare were many of these younkers that, although fairly fitted out for the voyage, they had while weather-bound in the British Channel gone ashore at Old Plymouth and "brushed away" even their cloaks and extra doublets, in some cases their very bedding and such cooking utensils as passengers were then expected to provide themselves with. So far from bringing fresh supplies of food to the colony, these runagates had devoured perforce the provisions that should have victualed the Fortune on her return voyage, and the colonists were forced for humanity's sake, to supply her out of their own scanty stock. Among these young fellows was a slight, dark-eyed lad of about nineteen, who so soon as he had landed asked for the Demoiselle Molines. "Priscilla Molines? Dost thou know her then?" inquired Alden who heard the question, although addressed to Billington, who only grinned at the lad's French accent and made no reply. "Certainly, yes. My sister is of her closest friends." "Ay? Is thy name De la Noye?" "Truly!" exclaimed the boy, his face lighting vivaciously. "I am Philip de la Noye." "Hm, and your brother Jacques--is he in the company, or coming in the next ship?" asked Alden grimly; but at that moment Priscilla coming swiftly forward, held out both hands to the new-comer exclaiming joyously in French,-- "Philip, dear lad! Glad am I to see thee." "She will have news now from her lover," muttered Alden bitterly, but just then the captain hailed,-- "Here Jack, put thy long legs and brawny thews to service in bringing some of these budgets up the hill. Here's a poor soul with three little children tugging at her skirts and she a widow, and fit to be put to bed herself." "I'll help her up the hill, Captain," interposed Peter Browne hastily, and as he carefully aided the Widow Ford to climb the steep ascent some sprite might have whispered in his ear that this was his own future wife. That night was born Martha Ford, who should from similarity of history have married Peregrine White, but who instead wedded William Nelson. Not until the last bale or packet unloaded from the Fortune had been disposed of in the Common storehouse, or in some one of the houses all hospitably thrown open to the new-comers, did John Alden cease his labors or exchange more than a brief word with those about him, until at last Bradford cheerily declared labor over for the day and added,-- "Come friends to my house, and hear what Master Cushman will have to tell us of affairs in the old home. Come Alden, and reward thy labors with a good flagon of beer." Muttering some reply, the young man followed the rest up Leyden Street, but as they reached the governor's house, a somewhat larger and more important cabin than the rest, he passed quickly on and up the hill. Pausing but a moment at the Fort, he struck down the steep southerly side to the brook, and having performed his simple toilet strode moodily on toward the forest, but had only gone a few rods when a familiar voice called his name, and turning he saw Priscilla with Mary Chilton and the young Frenchman, to whom they seemed to be showing the brook and its springs of "delicate water." Very reluctantly Alden turned and moved toward them. "Did you speak, Mistress Mary?" inquired he as the party approached. "I--I," stammered Mary blushing vividly. "It was I who bade her do so," interposed Priscilla with an impatient glance at the English girl whose honesty had spoiled her little finesse. "We thought you looked but dull, and I would fain bring my new-arrived friend Philip De la Noye to your acquaintance." The two men exchanged salutations, Philip with the ready grace of a Latin, John with that distinguishing a Saxon, especially if displeased. "We are strolling about a bit before making ready for supper," added Priscilla. "Philip is curious as to our manner of life in these wilds." "'T is but ill suited to slender folk," replied Alden glancing superciliously at the slight stripling, who, for his part, surveyed with a sort of amused wonder the thews and stature of the young giant striding sullenly at Priscilla's other hand. "Nay, we do not pack diamonds in bales like hay," retorted Priscilla stingingly, and then turning to Philip she inquired eagerly,-- "And Jacques and Guillaume are well, quite, quite well, are they?" "Yes, and Marie and Jeanne," replied Philip placidly. "And have you news from friends at home, Mary?" asked John decidedly moving to her side. "Nay, there are none left there of my nearest kin," replied the girl sadly. "We came all of us together, and only I am left." "Nay, Mary, so fair and so good a maid as thou, will never stay long without friends. Thou wouldst never flout an honest fellow's love and draw him on, and turn him back, and use him worse than a baby doth its puppet. The man who loves thee will never rue it." So meaning were his glances and his tone, that for a moment the simple maid stood aghast. Could it be that Alden's constancy had given out, and he was now ready to woo her instead of her friend; but in another moment the truth dawned upon her, and with more diplomacy than she often showed Mary smiled and shook her head. "I know not, for love and sweethearts have not come my way yet. 'T is Priscilla whom all men seek, and she in merry mood listeth to all and still keepeth her own mind secret. She is well content to-night, for this lad hath brought news of his brother's marriage." "What, the fellow they call Jacques?" demanded John glancing eagerly toward the other couple now walking some paces in advance. "Ay, and Guillaume is betrothed, and Jeanne. They are dear friends of our Priscilla." "But--but--nay, then, maid Mary, have compassion on a poor stupid oaf who is no match for her or you or any woman in subtlety and fence, and yet loveth yon maid as it is not well for man to love aught but his Maker. Tell me, doth she care aught for me?" "Nay, John, that is a question none but she should answer, but yet I may tell thee thus much. The news she hath to-day may embolden thee to ask again." "Good wench, true friend!" exclaimed Alden, his whole face lighting with a new hope. "And now as we turn toward home, if thou wouldst but engage yon boy's attention, and let me essay while hope is strong and courage fresh, I will put my fate once more to the touch and know if joy and I are henceforth partners, or the coldest of strangers." "Ah, lad, thou lovest her overmuch," replied Mary, letting her placid blue eyes rest upon him half curiously, half enviously. "No man will ever care for me like that, for I have not the skill to hide my mind as Priscilla hath. But I'll help thee, John, for I do believe thou 'lt make the dear maid happy if she will but stay in one mind long enough to wed thee." And in a few moments when the setting sun warned Priscilla that it was time to turn homeward, and the two parties came together, Mary showed Philip De la Noye the strawberry plants of which he had asked, and so detained him for a moment, while John walking on with Priscilla impatiently began,-- "Wilt answer me one little question in good faith, mistress?" "In good faith if at all, John." "Then, what bond is there betwixt thee and this lad's brother Jacques?" "None save good will and old acquaintance." "But there was." "Was there?" "Nay now, Priscilla, I speak to thee in sober sadness, and I ask such reply as honest maid should give to honest man who woos her for his wife. If we fall to quips and cranks and wordy play, thou 'rt so far out of my reach that I know not if I ever come near thee, for I'm but a plain simple fellow, Priscilla, and I love thee more than I love aught else but God and the truth. Give me now a plain answer and have pity of my misery. Has aught of this lad's news changed thy will or thy intent toward me?" And Priscilla moving slowly along beside her wooer shot a rapid sidelong glance at his white face, and for the first time in their acquaintance felt a thrill of respect akin to fear, sweep in his direction across her gay self-assertive nature. "Yes, John, I will answer thee truly and soberly," replied she in a voice he had never heard from her before. "Philip De la Noye hath brought news that sets me free from a teasing obligation of which no man knows. Marie and Jeanne, his sisters, are my dear friends and gossips, and their brother Jacques would fain have been my bachelor in Leyden, but I was too young my father said to listen to such talk, and he cared not greatly for Jacques, who was to tell truth somewhat gay and debonair of temper, and no church member, no, not he. So when we parted from Leyden to come hither, and I went to bid good-by to my friends, James, as you call him in English, would fain have me promise to wed no man but him, and he would come hither so soon as he was his own master." "And didst promise, Priscilla?" "Well, nay and yea, John. I said I knew not what might meet me here, and--but at long and at last I promised to wait until the first ship had followed us, and if Jacques came in her I would--would listen to him again." "And that was all thy promise, maiden?" "Ay, and enough, for before we landed on yonder Rock, and 't was Mary Chilton and not thee, John, who first skipt ashore"-- "Oh, mind not that just now, Priscilla." "Well, before I myself came ashore I knew that I cared not for Jacques De la Noye. Beside the deathbed of my mother, and again by that of my brother, I knew that life was darker and deeper than he could fathom." "Ay, maid, and nobly didst thou bear that sorry load of woe and care." Priscilla's color rose, and her dark eyes flashed a message of thanks, but without other reply she went steadily on,-- "And so soon as Philip saw me, he delivered himself of the news that Jacques, some three months since, was wed at Saint Peter's Church to Gertrude Bartholmei, a merry Flemish maid, who ever looked kindly on him, and now is welcome to him." "Say you that honestly, Priscilla?" "As honestly as thyself could speak, lad." "And thou 'rt heart-whole?" "Nay, I said not exactly that." "What! Dost really care for the captain?" "As I care for the governor and the doctor; no more, no less." "Priscilla, wilt be my wife?" "Nay then, John, why didst not ask that at first rather than at last? Thou 'rt too fond of quip and quirk and wordy warfare, John, too much given to fence and intrigue." "I, Priscilla! Nay then, I'll not be turned aside again, try as thou wilt. Priscilla, wilt be my wife?" "Nay then, I never could bear a cuckoo song all on two notes, and if thou 'rt bound to say that phrase over and over till 't is answered"-- "'T is just what I am bound to do. Priscilla, wilt be my wife?" "Yes, John, I will, and now I hope thou 'rt content." "Wait till I see thee alone this evening, and I'll tell thee how content. Oh, maiden"-- "I will wait in what patience I may until that threatened evening hour," interrupted Priscilla as restively as the young colt who, after long coquetting, at last feels the bridle slipped over his head. "Mary, an' thou hasten not there'll be little done toward supper at supper time. Desire is naught and less than naught now that she's going home, and Bessy Tilley thinketh only of John Howland, and the dear mother hath her son, so who is left but thee and me to do a hand's turn." "Here am I, Priscilla, and I'll help thee in any way thou 'lt say," suggested John Alden a little presuming upon his recent acceptance, and for his pains receiving a snub that made him wince again, for Priscilla coldly replied,-- "They say they came nigh bringing a Jack in the Fortune, but had no room for him; so thou mayst take his place, and fetch me a bucket of water from the spring. There's no mighty difference betwixt Jack and John." _ |
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