The Pilgrims of New England. Mrs. Webb-Peploe
a proper state for active service.
The canoes sped swiftly across the moonlit waters; and as they neared the shore, Rodolph perceived the forms of his wife and daughter, surrounded by the dark Indians, and ready to receive him. But he felt only pleasure at this unexpected and welcome meeting. No feeling of alarm crossed his breast, until he drew near enough to distinguish Helen's countenance; and then he knew that she had come with evil tidings. He sprang from the canoe, eager to hear the truth: but all the firmness and courage which had so wonderfully sustained his wife while she was obliged to act for herself, forsook her the moment she felt herself supported by her Rodolph's arm; and faintly exclaiming, 'O my son, my son!' she fainted; while little Edith burst into tears, and sobbed out her brother's name.
'Tell me, in the name of heaven, what all this means!' exclaimed Maitland, turning a look of eager inquiry on Mooanam, who stood with characteristic silence and apparent composure, waiting the proper moment to speak. 'Tell me,' cried the distracted father again, 'what dire calamity has befallen my boy?'
'My heart is dark for you,' replied the Sachem, in a voice of perfect calmness, though a tear glistened in his coal black eye, and his brow was clouded by anxiety. 'My heart is very dark for you, and for your young warrior—for, boy as he was, he was a brave at heart.'
Mooanam spoke in his native tongue, intermixed with English words and phrases, which he had learned from Brewster and the other settlers; but the father's heart comprehended all he said, and needed no interpreter.
'Is my son dead, then?' he exclaimed. 'Has accident or violence quenched his young spirit?'
'Worse than dead,' slowly replied the Sachem; and he looked pityingly at Helen, who now began to recover her senses. 'Leave your wife to the care of the squaws,' he added, 'and come with me to the wise man yonder, and he will tell you all.'
He led Rodolph to where Brewster was occupied in making preparations, and soon the afflicted father was made acquainted with the fate of his son. He felt indeed that death—a calm and peaceful death beneath his own accustomed roof, and with those he dearly loved around him—would have been a far happier lot for Henrich than that to which he now feared he might be doomed—than that which, possibly, his darling boy was at that moment enduring at the hands of his cruel and malignant enemies.
The thought was maddening. But there was still a hope of saving him by speed and resolution; and he urged the Sachem to depart instantly. One moment he gave to visit and endeavor to cheer his wife, who now lay powerless and weeping in Apannow's lodge; and then he joined the Chief, who, with Brewster and a band of picked men, were ready to accompany him. The pastor had already learnt from Edith all that she could tell relative to the spot where her brother had been captured; and to that spot the pursuing party hurried, and soon discovered the basket and the tools that told where the boys had been so rudely interrupted in their work. Quickly the trodden grass, and the broken branches of the thick underwood, showed in what direction the boy had been dragged by his captors; and on the track the Wampanoge warriors followed, like hounds in the chase. But, alas! the Nausetts had had a fearful start of them; and little hope existed in the breast of Mooanam that they could overtake them, in time to avert the dreadful fate that he had feared for Henrich.
The Sachem was himself an Indian, and he well knew the Indian desire for retaliation and vengeance. He was, indeed, a man of a mild and generous nature, and he belonged to a tribe less distinguished by cruelty than the Nausetts. But still he felt that, according to the savage code of the natives, blood must atone for blood, and he believed that already the life of Henrich had probably been sacrificed in expiation of his father's having slain the son of the Nausett Chief. Still he led his warriors on, and neither paused nor spoke until the party emerged from the thick wood, upon a little opening that was lighted up brilliantly by the moon-beams. Here, where it was evident a small temporary encampment had existed, and had only been very recently and hastily removed, he stopped, and looked earnestly around. The poles still stood erect which lied supported the tents of the Nausetts; the fires were still burning; and many articles of domestic use lay scattered about, which the hasty departure of the inhabitants had probably prevented their removing.
Rudolph hurried through the camp in search of some sign of his son; and his eager eye fell on the well-known tunic that Henrich was accustomed to wear. He snatched it up hastily; and then, with a deep groan, let it fall again upon the ground. The breast of the tunic was pierced through in several places, and the whole dress was stained with blood—blood that was newly shed.
Maitland pointed to this evidence of his son's death! and when the Sachem had examined it, he set his teeth together, and drew in his breath with an oppressed, hissing sound, as of severe pain.
'It is over, my friend,' he said, in a low deep voice to Rodolph—'it is over; and we are too late. Naught now remains but to take revenge—full, ample revenge. Let us follow the miscreants.'
Rudolph turned, and looked at him. He fixed on him such a searching gaze—a gaze so full of gentle reproof and of deep settled grief-that the warm-hearted Chief stood silent, and almost abashed before his Christian friend.
'Is it thus you have learned of Brewster?' said the sorrowing father. 'Is it thus that you are taught in that book which the Great Spirit has dictated? The Father of us all has declared, "vengeance is mine; I will repay "; and since we are too late to save my son, we will not commit deeds of blood which his now happy and ransomed spirit would abhor.'
Mooanam was silenced, but not convinced. Inwardly he vowed vengeance against those who had dealt so cruelly with the unoffending boy; though, under similar circumstances, he would probably have acted with the same spirit. But the Chief bad allied himself with the white men. He loved and reverenced them; and he was resolved to avenge the wrongs of Maitland, as if they had been his own.
Sadly and silently the party returned to the Indian village, where they arrived at the break of day. We will not attempt to describe the mother's anguish when she was made acquainted with the dreaded fate of her son; but Helen was a Christian, and while her heart was bowed down with crushing grief, her spirit strove to hush its rebellious questionings, and to submit itself to the will of God.
'It is the Lord,' she meekly exclaimed: let Him do what seemeth Him good!'
That morning she returned with her husband and Edith to the settlement; and they were accompanied by Brewster, whose pious exhortations and sympathizing kindness were invaluable to the bereaved and afflicted parents. The grief of Edith was less capable of being suppressed; and it broke out afresh when little Ludovico came to meet them, and inquired for his brother. From the child they learnt, that while he and Henrich were busily engaged in their several occupations in the wood, two Indians had suddenly rushed from the thick brushwood, and seized on his brother before he had time to fly. Ludovico was gathering moss at some distance, but he saw what passed, and uttered a cry that attracted the attention of the savages; and one of them east a spear at him with such violence, that, missing its intended mark, it stuck firmly in a tree close behind him. Seeing this, his noble and courageous brother called out to him to hide among the bushes, and make his way home as quickly as possible; and the Indians, eager to secure the prize they had so long been watching for, hurried away through the forest, dragging Henrich with them.
The murderous attempt made by these savages against the life of Ludovico proved but too clearly that the destruction of Rodolph's children was their object, and banished every hope that lingered in Helen's breast; and this conviction of their cruel intentions was still further confirmed by Janet's account of the look and gesture of the warrior who attended his Chief when the Nausetts first assailed the settlement. Rodolph had seen, and understood the action; and as he had also learnt through his Wampanoge friends that Tekoa, the son of the Nausett Chief, had fallen in the first encounter, he knew enough of Indian customs to be aware that he, as the slayer, was a marked object of their vengeance. He had, however, always concealed his suspicions from Helen; and the only effect they had produced on him was causing him, at that time, to prohibit his children from venturing unguarded into the wood, more strictly than he would otherwise have done.
CHAPTER V.