 | CHAPTER V. The wept of Wish-ton-Wish |  |
5. CHAPTER V.
“Are you so brave? I'll have you talked with anon.”
Coriolanus.
The axe and the brand had been early and effectually
used, immediately around the dwelling of
the Heathcotes. A double object had been gained
by removing most of the vestiges of the forest from
the vicinity of the buildings: the necessary improvements
were executed with greater facility,
and, a consideration of no small importance, the
cover, which the American savage is known to seek
in his attacks, was thrown to a distance that greatly
diminished the danger of a surprise.
Favored by the advantage which had been obtained
by this foresight, and by the brilliancy of a
night that soon emulated the brightness of day,
the duty of Eben Dudley and of his associate on the
watch was rendered easy of accomplishment. Indeed,
so secure did they become towards morning, chiefly
on account of the capture of the Indian lad, that
more than once, eyes, that should have been differently
employed, yielded to the drowsiness of the
hour and to habit, or were only opened at intervals
that left their owners in some doubt as to the passage
of the intermediate time. But no sooner did the
signs of day approach, than, agreeably to their instructions,
the watchers sought their beds, and for
an hour or two, they slept soundly and without fear.
When his father had closed the prayers of the
family, communicated as many of the incidents of
the past night as in his judgment seemed necessary.
His discretion limited the narrative to the capture
of the native youth, and to the manner in which he
had ordered the watch for the security of the family.
On the subject of his own excursion to the forest
and all connected therewith, he was guardedly
silent.
It is unnecessary to relate the manner in which
this startling information was received. The cold
and reserved brow of the Puritan became still more
thoughtful; the young men looked grave, but resolute;
the maidens of the household grew pale, shuddered,
and whispered hurriedly together; while the
little Ruth, and a female child of nearly her own
age, named Martha, clung close to the side of the
mistress of the family, who, having nothing new to
learn, had taught herself to assume the appearance
of a resolution she was far from feeling.
The first visitation which befell the listeners
after their eager ears had drunk in the intelligence.
Content so briefly imparted, was a renewal of the
spiritual strivings of his father in the form of prayer.
A particular petition was put up in quest of light
on their future proceedings, for mercy on all men,
for a better mind to those who wandered through
the wilderness seeking victims of their wrath, for
the gifts of grace on the heathen, and finally for
victory over all their carnal enemies, let them come
whence or in what aspect they might.
Fortified by these additional exercises, old Mark
next made himself the master of all the signs and
evidences of the approach of danger, by a more
rigid and minute inquiry into the visible circumstances
of the arrest of the young savage. Content
received a merited and grateful reward for his prudence,
in the approbation of one whom he still continued
less than that with which he had leaned on his
father's wisdom in the days of his childhood.
“Thou hast done well and wisely,” said his father;
“but more remaineth to be performed by thy
wisdom and fortitude. We have had tidings that
the heathen near the Providence Plantations are
unquiet, and that they are lending their minds to
wicked counsellors. We are not to sleep in too
much security, because a forest journey of a few
days lies between their villages and our own clearing.
Bring forth the captive; I will question him
on the matter of this visit.”
Until now, so much did the fears of all turn towards
the enemies who were believed to be lurking
near, that little thought had been bestowed on the
prisoner in the block-house. Content, who well
knew the invincible resolution, no less than the art
of an Indian, had forborne to question him when
taken; for he believed the time to be better suited
to vigilant action, than to interrogatories that the
character of the boy was likely to render perfectly
useless. He now proceeded, however, with an
interest that began to quicken as circumstances
rendered its indulgence less unsuitable, to seek his
captive, in order to bring him before the searching
ordeal of his father's authority.
The key of the lower door of the block-house
hung where it had been deposited; the ladder was
replaced, and Content mounted quietly to the
apartment where he had placed his captive. The
room was the lowest of three that the building
contained, all being above that which might be
termed its basement. The latter, having no aperture
but its door, was a dark, hexagonal space, partly
filled with such articles as might be needed in the
event of an alarm, and which, at the same time,
were frequently required for the purposes of domestic
well, so fitted and protected by a wall of stone, as
to admit of water being drawn into the rooms
above. The door itself was of massive hewn timber.
The squared logs of the upper stories projected a
little beyond the stone-work of the basement, the
second tier of the timbers containing a few loops,
out of which missiles might be discharged downwards,
on any assailants that approached nearer
than should be deemed safe for the security of the
basement. As has been stated, the two principal
stories were perforated with long narrow slits
through the timber, which answered the double
purposes of windows and loop-holes. Though the
apartments were so evidently arranged for defence,
the plain domestic furniture they contained was
suited to the wants of the family, should they be
driven to the building for refuge. There was also
an apartment in the roof, or attic, as already mentioned;
but it scarcely entered into the more important
uses of the block-house. Still the advantage
which it received from its elevation was not overlooked.
A small cannon, of a kind once known and
much used under the name of grasshoppers, had
been raised to the place, and time had been, when
it was rightly considered as of the last importance
to the safety of the inmates of the dwelling. For
some years its muzzle had been seen, by all the
straggling aborigines who visited the valley, frowning
through one of those openings which were now
converted into glazed windows; and there is reason
to think, that the reputation which the little piece
of ordnance thus silently obtained, had a powerful
agency in so long preserving unmolested the peace
of the valley.
The word unmolested is perhaps too strong.
More than one alarm had in fact occurred, though
no positive acts of violence had ever been committed
as his own. On only one occasion, however, did
matters proceed so far that the veteran had been
induced to take his post in this warlike attic; where,
there is little doubt, had occasion further offered
for his services, he would have made a suitable
display of his knowledge in the science of gunnery.
But the simple history of the Wish-Ton-Wish had
furnished another evidence of a political truth,
which cannot be too often presented to the attention
of our countrymen; we mean that the best preservative
of peace is preparation for war. In the case
before us, the hostile attitude assumed by old Mark
and his dependants had effected all that was desirable,
without proceeding to the extremity of shedding
blood. Such peaceful triumphs were far more in
accordance with the present principles of the
Puritan, than it would have been with the reckless
temper which had governed his youth. In the
quaint and fanatical humor of the times, he had
held a family thanksgiving around the instrument
of their security, and from that moment the room
itself became a favorite resorting-place for the old
soldier. Thither he often mounted, even in the
hours of deep night, to indulge in those secret
spiritual exercises which formed the chiefest
solace, and seemingly, indeed, the great employment
of his life. In consequence of this habit, the
attic of the block-house came in time to be considered
sacred to the uses of the master of the
valley. The care and thought of Content had
gradually supplied it with many conveniences that
might contribute to the personal comfort of his
father, while the spirit was engaged in these mental
conflicts. At length, the old man was known to use
the mattress, that among other things it now contained,
and to pass the time between the setting
and rising of the sun in its solitude. The aperture
had been glazed; and no article of comfort, which
was once caused to mount the difficult ladder that
led to the chamber, was ever seen to descend.
There was something in the austere sanctity of
old Mark Heathcote, that was favorable to the practices
of an anchorite. The youths of the dwelling
regarded his unbending brow, and the undisturbed
gravity of the eye it shadowed, with a respect akin
to awe. Had the genuine benevolence of his character
been less tried, or had he mingled in active
life at a later period, it might readily have been
his fate to have shared in the persecution which
his countrymen heaped on those who were believed
to deal with influences it is thought impious to exercise.
Under actual circumstances, however, the
sentiment went no farther than a deep and universal
reverence, that left its object, and the neglected
little piece of artillery, to the quiet possession of
an apartment, to invade which would have been
deemed an act bordering on sacrilege.
The business of Content, on the occasion which
caused his present visit to the edifice whose history
and description we have thought it expedient thus
to give at some length, led him no farther than to
the lowest of its more military apartments. On
raising the trap, for the first time a feeling of doubt
came over him, as to the propriety of having left
the boy so long unsolaced by words of kindness, on
by deed of charity. It was appeased by observing
that his concern was awakened in behalf of one
whose spirit was quite equal to sustain greater
trials.
The young Indian stood before one of the loops,
looking out upon that distant forest in which he
had so lately roamed at liberty, with a gaze too
riveted to turn aside even at the interruption occasioned
by the presence of his captor.
“Come from thy prison, child,” said Content, in
the tones of mildness; “whatever may have been
thy motive in lurking around this dwelling, thou art
human, and must know human wants; come forth,
and receive food; none here will harm thee.”
The language of commiseration is universal.
Though the words of the speaker were evidently
unintelligible to him for whose ears they were intended,
their import was conveyed in the kindness
of the accents. The eyes of the boy turned slowly
from the view of the woods, and he looked his captor
long and steadily in the face. Content now indeed
discovered that he had spoken in a language
that was unknown to his captive, and he endeavored
by gestures of kindness to invite the lad to follow.
He was silently and quietly obeyed. On
reaching the court, however, the prudence of a
border proprietor in some degree overcame his
feelings of compassion.
“Bring hither yon tether,” he said to Whittal
Ring, who at the moment was passing towards the
stables; “here is one wild as the most untamed of
thy colts. Man is of our nature and of our spirit,
let him be of what color it may have pleased Providence
to stamp his features; but he who would
have a young savage in his keeping on the morrow,
must look sharply to his limbs to-day.”
The lad submitted quietly, until a turn of the
rope was passed around one of his arms; but when
Content was fain to complete the work by bringing
the other limb into the same state of subjection,
the boy glided from his grasp, and cast the fetters
from him in disdain. This act of decided resistance
was, however, followed by no effort to escape. The
moment his person was released from a confinement
which he probably considered as implying distrust
of his ability to endure pain with the fortitude of
a warrior, the lad turned quietly and proudly to his
were alike glowing, seemed to defy the ful
ness of his anger.
“Be it so,” resumed the equal-minded Content
“if thou likest not the bonds, which, notwithstanding
the pride of man, are often healthful to the body
keep then the use of thy limbs, and see that they
do no mischief. Whittal, look thou to the postern
and remember it is forbidden to go afield, until my
father hath had this heathen under examination
The cub is seldom found far from the cunning of
the aged bear.”
He then made a sign to the boy to follow, and
proceeded to the apartment where his father, surrounded
by most of the family, awaited their coming.
Uncompromising domestic discipline was one
of the striking characteristics of the sway of the
Puritans. That austerity of manner which was
thought to mark a sense of a fallen and probationary
state, was early taught; for, among a people who
deemed all mirth a sinful levity, the practice of
self-command would readily come to be esteemed
the basis of virtue. But, whatever might have
been the peculiar merit of Mark Heathcote and his
household in this particular, it was likely to be exceeded
by the exhibition of the same quality in the
youth who had so strangely become their captive
We have already said, that this child of the woods
might have seen some fifteen years. Though he had
shot upwards like a vigorous and thrifty plant, and
with the freedom of a thriving sapling in his native
forests, rearing its branches towards the light, his
stature had not yet reached that of man. In height,
form, and attitudes, he was a model of active, natural,
and graceful boyhood. But, while his limbs
were so fair in their proportions, they were scarcely
muscular; still, every movement exhibited a freedom
and ease which announced the grace of childhood,
which creeps into our air as the factitious feelings
of later life begin to assert their influence. The
smooth, rounded trunk of the mountain ash is not
more upright and free from blemish, than was the
figure of the boy, who moved into the curious circle
that opened for his entrance and closed against his
retreat, with the steadiness of one who came to
bestow instead of appearing to receive judgment.
“I will question him,” said old Mark Heathcote,
attentively regarding the keen and settled eye that
met his long, stern gaze as steadily as a less intelligent
creature of the woods would return the look
of man. “I will question him; and perchance fear
will wring from his lips a confession of the evil that
he and his have meditated against me and mine.”
“I think he is ignorant of our forms of speech,”
returned Content; “for the words of neither kindness
nor anger will force him to a change of feature”
“It is then meet that we commence by asking
him, who hath the secret to open all hearts, to be
our assistant.” The Puritan then raised his voice
in a short and exceedingly particular petition, in
which he implored the Ruler of the Universe to
interpret his meaning, in the forthcoming examination,
in a manner that, had his request been granted,
would have savored not a little of the miraculous.
With this preparation, he proceeded directly
to his task. But neither questions, signs, nor prayer,
produced the slightest visible effect. The boy gazed
at the rigid and austere countenance of his interrogator,
while the words were issuing from his
lips; but, the instant they ceased, his searching and
quick eye rolled over the different curious faces by
which he was hemmed in, as if he trusted more to
the sense of sight than that of hearing, for the information
he naturally sought concerning his future
gesture or sound that should betray either the purport
of his questionable visit, his own personal appellation,
or that of his tribe.
“I have been among the red skins of the Providence
Plantations,” Eben Dudley at length ventured
to observe; “and their language, though but a
crooked and irrational jargon, is not unknown to
me. With the leave of all present,” he continued,
regarding the Puritan in a manner to betray that
this general term meant him alone, “with the leave
of all present, I will put it to the younker in such
a fashion that he will be glad to answer.”
Receiving a look of assent, the borderer uttered
certain uncouth and guttural sounds, which, notwithstanding
they entirely failed of their effect, he
stoutly maintained were the ordinary terms of salutation
among the people to whom the prisoner was
supposed to belong.
“I know him to be a Narragansett,” continued
Eben, reddening with vexation at his defeat, and
throwing a glance of no peculiar amity at the youth
who had so palpably refuted his claim to skill in
the Indian tongues; “you see he hath the shells of
the sea-side worked into the bordering of his moccasons;
and besides this sign, which is certain as
that night hath its stars, he beareth the look of a
chief that was slain by the Pequods, at the wish of
us Christians, after an affair in which, whether it was
well done or ill done, I did some part of the work
myself.”
“And how call you that chief?” demanded Mark.
“Why, he had various names, according to the
business he was on. To some he was known as the
Leaping Panther, for he was a man of an extraordinary
jump; and others again used to style him
Pepperage, since there was a saying that neither
bullet nor sword could enter his body; though that
his real name, according to the uses and sounds of
his own people, was My Anthony Mow.”
“My Anthony Mow!”
“Yes; My, meaning that he was their chief; Anthony,
being the given name; and Mow, that of the
breed of which he came;” rejoined Eben with confidence,
satisfied that he had finally produced a sufficiently
sonorous appellative and a perfectly lucid
etymology. But criticism was diverted from its aim
by the action of the prisoner, as these equivocal
sounds struck his ear. Ruth recoiled, and clasped
her little namesake closer to her side, when she saw
the dazzling brightness of his glowing eyes, and the
sudden and expressive dilation of his nostrils. For a
moment, his lips were compressed with more than
the usual force of Indian gravity, and then they
slightly severed. A low, soft, and as even the startled
matron was obliged to confess, a plaintive sound
issued from between them, repeating mournfully—
“Miantonimoh!”
The word was uttered with a distinct, but deeply
guttural enuciation.
“The child mourneth for its parent,” exclaimed
the sensitive mother. “The hand that slew the
warrior may have done an evil deed!”
“I see the evident and foreordering will of a wise
Providence in this,” said Mark Heathcote with solemnity.
“The youth hath been deprived of one who
might have enticed him still deeper into the bonds
of the heathen, and hither hath he been led in order
to be placed upon the straight and narrow path.
He shall become a dweller among mine, and we will
strive against the evil of his mind until instruction
shall prevail. Let him be fed and nurtured, equally
with the things of life and the things of the world;
for who knoweth that which is designed in his behalf?”
If there were more of faith than of rational conclusion
in this opinion of the old Puritan, there was
no external evidence to contradict it. While the examination
of the boy was going on in the dwelling,
a keen scrutiny had taken place in the out-buildings,
and in the adjacent fields. Those engaged in this
duty soon returned, to say that not the smallest trace
of an ambush was visible about the place; and as
the captive himself had no weapons of hostility,
even Ruth began to hope that the mysterious conceptions
of her father on the subject were not entirely
delusive. The captive was now fed, and old
Mark was on the point of making a proper beginning
in the task he had so gladly assumed, by an
up-offering of thanks, when Whittal Ring broke
rudely into the room, and disturbed the solemnity
of his preparations, by a sudden and boisterous outcry.
“Away with scythe and sickle,” shouted the witling;
“it's many a day since the fields of Wish-Ton-Wish
have been trodden down by horsemen in buff
jerkins, or ambushed by creeping Wampanoags.”
“There is danger at hand!” exclaimed the sensitive
Ruth. “Husband, the warning was timely.”
“Here are truly some riding from the forest, and
drawing nigh to the dwelling; but as they are seemingly
men of our kind and faith, we have need rather
of rejoicing than terror. They bear the air of messengers
from the River.”
Mark Heathcote listened with surprise, and perhaps
with a momentary uneasiness; but all emotion
passed away on the instant, for one so disciplined in
mind rarely permitted any outward exposure of his
secret thoughts. The Puritan calmly issued an order
to replace the prisoner in the block-house, assigning
the upper of the two principal floors for his keeping;
and then he prepared himself to receive guests
that were little wont to disturb the quiet of his secluded
the necessary mandates, when the tramp of horses
was heard in the court, and he was summoned to
the door to greet his unknown visiters.
“We have reached Wish-Ton-Wish, and the
dwelling of Captain Mark Heathcote,” said one,
who appeared, by his air and better attire, to be the
principal of four that composed the party.
“By the favor of Providence; I call myself the
unworthy owner of this place of refuge.”
“Then a subject so loyal, and a man who hath so
long proved himself faithful in the wilderness, will
not turn from his door the agents of his Anointed
Master.”
“There is one greater than any of earth, who hath
taught us to leave the latch free. I pray you to
alight, and to partake of that we can offer.”
With this courteous but quaint explanation, the
horsemen dismounted; and, giving their steeds into
the keeping of the laborers of the farm, they entered
the dwelling.
While the maidens of Ruth were preparing a repast
suited to the hour and to the quality of the
guests, Mark and his son had abundant opportunity
to examine the appearance of the strangers. They
were men who seemed to wear visages peculiarly
adapted to the characters of their entertainers,
being in truth so singularly demure and grave in
aspect, as to excite some suspicion of their being
newly-converted zealots to the mortifying customs
of the Colony. Notwithstanding their extraordinary
gravity, and contrary to the usages of those regions,
too, they bore about their persons certain evidence
of being used to the fashions of the other hemisphere.
The pistols attached to their saddle-bows,
and other accoutrements of a warlike aspect, would
perhaps have attracted no observation, had they not
been accompanied by a fashion in the doublet, the
with the mother country, than was usual among
the less sophisticated natives of those regions. None
traversed the forests without the means of defence;
but, on the other hand, few wore the hostile implements
with so much of a worldly air, or with so
many minor particularities of some recent caprice
in fashion. As they had however announced themselves
to be officers of the King, they, who of necessity
must be chiefly concerned in the object of
their visit, patiently awaited the pleasure of the
strangers, to learn why duty had called them so far
from all the more ordinary haunts of men: for, like
the native owners of the soil, the self-restrained religionists
appeared to reckon an indiscreet haste in
any thing, among the more unmanly weaknesses.
Nothing for the first half-hour of their visit escaped
the guarded lips of men evidently well skilled in their
present duty, which might lead to a clue of its purport.
The morning meal passed almost without
discourse, and one of the party had arisen with the
professed object of looking to their steeds, before he,
who seemed the chief, led the conversation to a
subject, that by its political bearing might, in some
degree, be supposed to have a remote connexion
with the principal object of his journey to that sequestered
valley.
“Have the tidings of the gracious boon that hath
lately flowed from the favor of the King, reached
this distant settlement?” asked the principal personage,
one that wore a far less military air than
a younger companion, who, by his confident mien,
appeared to be the second in authority.
“To what boon hath thy words import?” demanded
the Puritan, turning a glance of the eye
at his son and daughter, together with the others
in hearing, as if to admonish them to be prudent.
“I speak of the Royal Charter by which the
the Colony of New-Haven, are henceforth permitted
to unite in government; granting them liberty of
conscience, and great freedom of self-control.”
“Such a gift were worthy of a King! Hath
Charles done this?”
“That hath he, and much more that is fitting
in a kind and royal mind. The realm is finally freed
from the abuses of usurpers, and power now resteth
in the hands of a race long set apart for its privileges.”
“It is to be wished that practice shall render
them expert and sage in its uses,” rejoined Mark,
somewhat drily.
“It is a merry Prince! and one but little given
to the study and exercises of his martyred father;
but he hath great cunning in discourse, and few
around his dread person have keener wit or more
ready tongue.”
Mark bowed his head in silence, seemingly little
disposed to push the discussion of his earthly
master's qualities to a conclusion that might prove
offensive to so loyal an admirer. One inclining to
suspicion would have seen, or thought he saw,
certain equivocal glances from the stranger, while
he was thus lauding the vivacious qualities of the
restored monarch, which should denote a desire to
detect how far the eulogiums might be grateful to
his host. He acquiesced however in the wishes of
the Puritan, though whether understandingly, or
without design, it would have been difficult to say,
and submitted to change the discourse.
“It is likely, by thy presence, that tidings have
reached the Colonies from home,” said Content,
who understood, by the severe and reserved expression
of his father's features, that it was a
fitting time for him to interpose.
“There is one arrived in the Bay, within the
hath yet passed between the countries, except the
ship which maketh the annual voyage from Bristol
to Boston.”
“And he who hath arrived—doth he come in
authority?” demanded Mark; “or is he merely
another servant of the Lord, seeking to rear his
tabernacle in the wilderness?”
“Thou shalt know the nature of his errand,”
returned the stranger, casting a glance of malicious
intelligence obliquely towards his companions, at
the same time that he arose and placed in the hand
of his host a commission which evidently bore the
Seal of State. “It is expected that all aid will be
given to one bearing this warranty, by a subject
of a loyalty so approved as that of Captain Mark
Heathcote.”
| CHAPTER V. The wept of Wish-ton-Wish | |