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twg_000012924100 | pat Pike, who scenting disaster in the air had returned whimpering to her master's side. "If we could but find some deserted hut of the salvages, or some of their stored grain, or even the venison we disdained the other day," suggested Browne. "We've seen no trace of such a thing to-day," replied Goodman disconsolately. "Come on, then, and let | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924101 | us look while daylight lingers. Mayhap the dogs will lead us out if we put them to it. Hi, Nero! Home boy, home! Seek!" Nero whimpered intelligently and trotted on for a mile or so, but with none of that appearance of conviction which sometimes gives to an animal's proceedings the force of an inspiration. Browne, who knew his dog | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924102 | well, felt the discouragement of his movement, and finally stopped abruptly. "Nay, he knows no home in this wilderness and feels no call to one place more than another. 'T is past praying for, John; we must e'en make up our minds to sleep here. Suppose that we lie down in the lee of these nut-bushes, call the dogs to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924103 | curl up beside us, and try to keep life going till morning; no doubt we shall find the way out then, or at least somewhat to eat." "My blood is like ice already," murmured Goodman burying his hands in the spaniel's curly hair. "If we had but flint and steel to make a fire it were something!" exclaimed Browne. "What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924104 | Jack-o'-Bedlams we were to set off thus unprovided. Catch me so again!" "But we came out to cut thatch, not to chase deer and get lost in the woods," suggested Goodman trying to laugh, though his teeth chattered like castanets. "It will never do for thee to lie down as chilled as thou art," exclaimed Browne anxiously. "I promised thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924105 | old mother I'd have an eye to thee, and lo it is I that have led thee into this mischance! What shall I do for thee? I have it, lad! Sith it is too dark and rough to walk farther I'll try a fall with thee; there's naught warms a man's blood like a good wrestling match. Come on, then!" | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924106 | "I'm no match for thee, Peter, but here goes!" replied Goodman struggling to his feet, and the two men joined there in the darkness and the wilderness in what might truly be called a "joust of courtesy," moved only by mutual love and good will, for the event proved Goodman's modesty well founded, and it was only a few moments | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924107 | before Browne, raising his slender opponent in his arms, set him down sharply two or three times upon his feet, saying,-- "I'll not throw thee, for that might prove small kindness. Art warmer?" But before Goodman could answer a snarling cry broke from the thicket close at hand, and was answered by another and another voice until the air seemed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924108 | filled with the cries of howling fiends. Nero started to his feet, his eyes glowing, the hair bristling stiffly upon his neck, and with a fierce growl of defiance would have sprung forward had not his master seized him by the collar exclaiming,-- "Nay, fool! wouldst rush on thy destruction!" "'T is the salvages!" stammered Goodman staring about him in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924109 | the darkness. "Nay, 't is lions," replied Browne. "Hopkins saith they swarm about here. We must climb a tree, John. Here is a stout one; up with thee, man, as fast as may be!" "But thou, Peter?" asked John clambering into the oak his friend pointed out. "I cannot leave Nero. He'll be gone to the lion so soon as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924110 | I quit my hold of his collar, and I'll not lose him but in sorer need than this. Here, take thou the spaniel and hold her to thee for warmth." "Nay, I'll not be safe and thou in danger," replied the young man springing down; "and, moreover, it is deadly cold perching in a tree." "Well, then, we'll both stand | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924111 | on our guard here, and if the lions come we'll e'en up in the tree hand over hand and leave the poor beasts to their fate. Stamp thy feet on the ground and walk a few paces up and down, John. I fear me thou 'lt swound with the cold like poor Tilley." "I could not well be colder and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924112 | live," replied Goodman faintly, as he tried to follow his friend's injunction. The night crept on, with frost and snow and icy rain and heavy darkness, and still the wolves prowled howling around their prey, and the good dog held them at bay with savage growls and deep-throated yelps of defiance, and his master, caring more for the humble friend | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924113 | he had reared and brought over seas from his English home than for his own safety, held him all night by the collar, and the spaniel whimpered with cold and terror in her master's arms, and he, poor lad, suffered all the anguish of death as his feet and legs chilled and stiffened and froze like ice. A night not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924114 | to be numbered in those men's lives by hours but years, a night of exhaustion, terror, and agony, a night hopeless of morning save through the exceeding mercy of God. The gray light broke at last, however, and with it the wolves grew mute and slunk away, Nero quieted into obedience, and Browne carefully straightening his own stiffened joints and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924115 | rising to his feet looked into his comrade's face and shook his head. "John, hearken to me, lad! We're in a sore strait but we're not dead, and daylight hath broken. Hold up thy face to the sky, man, and say 'I WILL win through this, so help me God!' and having said it, stick to it, even as Nero | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924116 | would have stuck to yon lion's throat until he was clawed away in shreds. Come, try it, my lad, try it!" Catching something of his friend's heroic spirit the poor fellow did as he was bidden, but followed the brave resolve with a piteous look into the other's face while he said,-- "My feet are froze, Peter; there is no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924117 | feeling nor power in them. But lead on, and I will follow if I must crawl." "Tarry a bit till I see"-- And not pausing to finish his sentence Browne set himself to climb the tree beneath which they had passed the night. His cramped limbs and benumbed fingers made this no easy task and more than once he was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924118 | near losing his grasp and finishing the story by a headlong fall to the frozen earth, but this danger was passed also, and presently hastening down he said,-- "Well, heavy though the clouds be I can see that east is that-a-way, and not far from us rises a high hill. Come, then, lean on me; pass thy arm around my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924119 | shoulders this fashion and I will help thee on. Then I will leave thee at the foot of the hill and myself climb it, and if need be some tree upon its summit. From that I shall surely catch sight of the sea, and knowing that we know all we need." Goodman silently laid his arm around the stalwart shoulders | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924120 | presented to him, but found himself too weak and spent for other reply, and Browne, passing an arm around his waist, looked anxiously into his face, saying,-- "Courage, lad, courage!" "Ay, I WILL, by God's help!" murmured the poor lad as with agony inexpressible he forced his stiffened limbs to follow one after the other. The hill, more distant than | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924121 | Browne had supposed, was only reached after two hours of agonizing effort, and at the foot Goodman sank speechless and exhausted, his eyes closed, his parted lips white and drawn. Browne looked at him despairingly, and calling the dogs made one crouch at either side close to the heart and lungs of the prostrate body, and then hastened on up | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924122 | the hill muttering,-- "'T is best kindness to leave him." Half an hour later he came crashing down again through underbrush and fallen branches shouting,-- "Courage, John; courage, man! From the top of the biggest tree on this hill I've seen not only the sea, but our own harbor, and the old brig rocking away as peacefully as may be. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924123 | Think of the good friends and the good Hollands gin and the good fires aboard of her. Come, rouse up, lad! Once more pluck up thy courage and remember thy resolve! 'T is but another hour or so and we are there!" And yet the good fellow knew that not one but many hours lay before them, and that it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924124 | was for him to find strength and endurance for both. Once more his cheery voice and assured courage conveyed power for another effort to the half-dead lad he almost carried in his arms, and so, with frequent pauses for rest and encouragement, the day wore past, until at last on the brow of Watson's Hill, Browne, his own strength all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924125 | but spent, cried tremulously,-- "Now God be praised! here is the harbor at our feet, yonder is the Mayflower, below is the village, and but a few moments more will bring thee, John, to a bed and Surgeon Fuller's care, and me to a fire and some boiling schnapps." "God indeed be praised!" murmured Goodman rousing himself for the final | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924126 | effort; and so it came to pass that just at sunset the two crossed the brook and came hobbling down The Street amid a clamorous and joyful crowd of friends who lifted Goodman from his feet, nor paused until they brought them both into the house where abode Carver and also Fuller, the shrewd and crabbed physician and philanthropist. Here | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924127 | Goodman was laid upon a bed, his shoes cut from his feet, and in a few moments the governor on one side and the doctor on the other were vigorously rubbing the frozen limbs with alcohol. "Shall I lose my feet, Doctor?" asked the patient feebly. "Lose them!" cried the doctor indignantly. "Nay! what use would a footless man be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924128 | to the Adventurers who sent thee out? 'T were but a knave's trick for thee to shed thy feet first thing, and I'll see to it thou dost not." "And that's a comfortable saying, Master Fuller," said Browne standing anxiously by. "Thou here, Peter Browne!" exclaimed the doctor glancing up under his shaggy brows. "What art doing here, blockhead? Get | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924129 | thee into bed beside a good fire, and bid Hopkins mix thee a posset such as he would have for himself. Be off, I say!" . THE COLONISTS OF COLE'S HILL. The next day both Carver and Bradford were forced to succumb under the epidemic already raging among the colonists, and in another fortnight the hospital and Common house were | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924130 | crowded to their utmost capacity with the beds of the ill and dying. The terrible colds taken in the various explorations, the vile food and bad air of the brig, with the want of ordinary comforts on shore, were at last bearing their fruit in a combination of scurvy, rheumatism, and typhoid fever of a malignant type. On board ship | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924131 | matters were even worse than on shore, and Jones, who would willingly have abandoned the settlers as soon as they were debarked, found himself, perforce, a sharer in their distress through the illness and death of his crew, and the danger of running short of provisions. The day came at length when of all the company, numbering a hundred and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924132 | one when they landed, only seven remained able either to nurse the sick or bury the dead, and hour by hour, as these met about their complicated duties, they studied each others faces, in terror of seeing the fatal signs that yet one more was stricken down, and the annihilation of the settlement one step farther advanced. Of these seven, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924133 | two were Elder Brewster and Myles Standish, and well did they prove themselves fit to be rulers among the people, for they became servants of all, without hesitation and without affectation, nursing, cooking, dressing loathsome wounds, and ministering in all those homely ways repugnant to refined senses, and especially, perhaps, to the dignity of man. The doctor also kept on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924134 | foot, although terribly worn with sleeplessness, fatigue, and rheumatism; Peter Browne, none the worse for his day and night in the woods, with Francis Eaton to help him, took charge of digging the graves and burying the dead, already in their silent colony along the brow of Cole's Hill, almost equaling their yet suffering comrades. The two remaining sound ones | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924135 | were Stephen Hopkins and Helen Billington, who, as the only female nurse, was called upon to attend the sick women, so far as she could; this, of course, gave but little time for each patient, and one night the doctor hurriedly said to Standish,-- "Captain, wilt have an eye to-night to those two beds in the corner? 'T is Priscilla | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924136 | Molines and Desire Minter, both shrewdly burned with fever, and needing medicine and care lest they should fall to raving before morning. I'd not ask thee, knowing all thou hast on hand, but goodwife Billington must not quit"-- "Nay, nay, what needs so many words," interrupted Standish. "Give me their medicine and directions, I can care for them well enow | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924137 | and for Bradford whose huckle-bone[] giveth him sore distress to-night." [] Hip-bone. "I doubt me if he wins through," said the Doctor softly; "and White and Molines will never see the morning, and Mistress Winslow is going fast--well, I leave the maids and Bradford to thee." "Ay, I'll do my best," replied Standish briefly. And so it came to pass | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924138 | that Priscilla Molines, moaning in her feverish unrest, felt a moist linen laid upon her brow and a cup held to her parched lips. "Petite maman!" murmured she, and with those moistened lips kissed the hand that held the cup. Standish sadly smiled a little, and passed on to the next bed where lay Desire Minter, not so ill, but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924139 | far more requiring than Priscilla. "Here is thy draught, child," said the nurse kindly, as he raised her head and put the cup to her lips. Swallowing it eagerly, she lifted her jealous eyes and with a smile half cunning, half pathetic, whispered,-- "I love thee too, but I think it not maidenly to kiss thee till I'm asked." "Nay, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924140 | girl, thou 'rt dreaming or wild," said the Captain soothingly. "She, poor maid, is distraught, and took me for her mother. She loves me not, nor dost thou, nor do I ask any woman's love." "Nay, then, thou 'rt mocking me. Thou dost love her, and she loves thee, for I've heard her say as much; but still I know | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924141 | one that loves thee better." "If thou were not so ill, Desire, I'd find it in my heart to say--but there, sleep poor child, sleep! Thou knowst not what thou sayst." And Standish turned impatiently away to Bradford who suffered excruciatingly that night with inflammatory rheumatism in the hip-joint. The next morning Priscilla awaking refreshed, and for the moment quite | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924142 | herself, found her neighbor weeping passionately, yet from time to time regarding her in so peculiar a fashion that she said softly,-- "What is it, Desire? Art thou in sore pain?" "It ill fits thee to pity me when it is thou that hast done me such despite," whimpered Desire sullenly. "I! what dost thou mean?" "Why, I have ever | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924143 | liked our Captain since first I saw him, and now his wife is dead and buried, why should he not marry me as well as another?" "Why not, if it pleaseth him? I forbid not the banns," replied Priscilla, the dim wraith of her old smile passing across her face. "Why not? Because thou hast bewitched him, thou naughty sprite, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924144 | and thou knowest it." "What dost thou mean, Desire? Speak out and done with it, for thou weariest me sore," exclaimed Priscilla impatiently, while the fever began to streak her pallid cheek and flame in her great eyes. "Why, I saw you two kissing last night, and I suppose you're promised to each other," muttered the other sulkily, and Priscilla, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924145 | rising on her elbow, fixed on her a glance beneath which the coward quailed, yet sullenly murmured,-- "Well, you did!" "Desire Minter, thou art lying, and thou knowest it, or else thy wits are distraught, or mine." "Ah, 't is well to try to edge out of it by brow-beating me, but thou canst not. I saw you two kissing. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924146 | When he first came in he went and stood beside thy bed and looked down at it, biting at his beard, as is his wont when he is moved; and then he fell upon his knees, whispering something, and kissed the pillow, over and over, and when he stood up he drew his hand across his eyes, and all for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924147 | love of thee. So now, then!" "Is that true, Desire? Can it be true that he cares for me in that fashion?" asked Priscilla falling back bewildered, for she knew no more than did Desire that hers was the bed where Rose Standish had breathed her last sigh, and her husband had looked his last on her sweet face. "Certes, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924148 | 't is true, and thou knowest it better than I, for when, later on, he came to give thee a drink and wet thy forehead and lips, thou didst give him back his kiss right tenderly, and mutter something of 'love' and 'darling.'" "I kissed Myles Standish!" cried Priscilla wildly. "Ay, kissed the hand that held the cup, and when | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924149 | he came to me I told him I had seen it all, and that I knew before that thou lovedst him." "Thou saidst I loved him!" "Ay, and he said he loved thee not, nor any woman, but 't was a blind, for such a weary sigh as he fetched, and turned to look again at thee." "I kissed him, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924150 | and thou saidst I loved him, and he said he loved me not!" cried Priscilla blindly; and then with a wild cry she burst into a delirious laugh, ending in a shriek that brought Doctor Fuller from the next room. "What is this! what is toward!" demanded he glancing from Priscilla to Desire, who replied in her sullen tones,-- "I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924151 | know not, except that Captain Standish and Priscilla are sweethearts, and I told her I saw them kissing last night, and haply she is shamed as well she may be." "And well mayst thou be doubly shamed," replied the doctor sternly, "to torment her into frenzy with thy jealous fancies, and she already at death's door. Thou sawest naught, whatever | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924152 | thou mayst have dreamed; and mark me now, Desire Minter, I forbid thee to speak one word more, good or bad, to Priscilla Molines while thou stayest here; and if thou heedest not, I'll put thee in another house and leave thee to shift for thyself." Thoroughly cowed, the mischief maker promised obedience, and the doctor turned to the delirious | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924153 | girl, whom he finally quieted to a moaning sleep, in which he left her, muttering to himself as he went,-- "Not a month since his wife died in that bed--well--'t is no concern of mine." And so it came about that the idea of love between Priscilla and Standish was planted in four active minds, and in time bore strange | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924154 | and bitter fruit. And so the gloomy days crept on, and the sufferers and the mourners of the village which lay half-built beneath the hill passed on to take up their dwelling in the village upon the bluff, where, silent pilgrims, they lay, row upon row, hands meekly folded, lips close set, and eyes forever shut, but yet attaining all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924155 | that they sought in this their pilgrimage, freedom from tyranny even of time and circumstance, freedom to worship God in spirit and in truth. When a conqueror or a tyrant decimates his captives or his subjects, the world cries out in horror of such disregard of life, but in this instance God spared one half His people from the sorrows | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924156 | and the hardships they had come forth to seek, and gave them at once the reward, for which their brethren still must toil. Of the hundred and one men, women, and children, who followed Gideon to the battle, but fifty were chosen to achieve the final conquest. Among those who survived for a little time was John Goodman, who, after | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924157 | lying for weeks at death's door, came slowly back for a while, and in the early spring crept out in the sunshine with the faithful Pike at his heels. Trying his strength from day to day, he at last hobbled down to the brook and across, but was no sooner beyond hail of the village than two great gray wolves, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924158 | stealing from a thicket, sprang upon the dog, who, not so venturesome as Nero, ran to take refuge between her master's still tender feet, causing them not a little pain. "Fool! Again without a weapon!" exclaimed John apostrophizing himself, and picking up a good-sized stone he threw it, with a shout, at the foremost wolf, who retreated snarling to the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924159 | bushes. Stumbling back toward the village as fast as he could, Goodman came presently to a pile of stout palings cut for fencing, and arming himself with one cast an anxious look behind. It was time, for the wolves, recovering courage as he retreated, were in full pursuit, with glaring eyes and lolling tongues. Ordering Pike to crouch behind him, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924160 | the young fellow stood at bay, hooting, shouting, and waving his stave in a semicircle, within whose sweep the creatures were not anxious to intrude. Weary at length of trying to surprise the fortress by a flank movement, yet reluctant to abandon the hope of seizing Pike, the wolves finally seated themselves upon their haunches at a little distance and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924161 | seemed to consult, grinning and snapping their teeth from time to time at the spaniel, who cowered almost into the ground, whimpering piteously, while her master leaned upon his paling and laughed aloud, an insult to which the wolves responded by throwing back their heads and uttering howls like those of a dog baying the moon. Then suddenly leaping into | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924162 | the bushes they disappeared as quickly as they came, leaving Goodman, still chuckling, to resume his path to the village. "We'll have a merry tale for Peter Browne this evening, won't we, Pike!" But while the brave young fellow climbed the little hill from the brook to The Street, this smiling expression gave place to one of consternation, as he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924163 | beheld a column of smoke and flame issuing from the roof of the house set apart as hospital, and heard a terrified shout of,-- "Fire! Fire!" "Fire! Fire!" echoed Goodman running toward the spot as fast as his tender feet would allow. Sounder men were before him, however, and when he arrived a ladder was placed against the side of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924164 | the burning house, and Alden, with Billington at his heels, was about to mount it, when Brewster exclaiming,-- "Here's no place for sick men," pushed both aside, ran up the ladder, and tearing the blazing thatch from the roof flung it down in handfuls so rapidly and effectually that in five minutes the threatened conflagration was subdued to smoking embers | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924165 | and a few fugitive flames here and there, where already the fire had fastened upon the poles laid to support the thatch. Some buckets of water passed up by the little crowd below soon extinguished these, and then the Elder, peeping down through the damaged roof into the room below, cried cheerily,-- "All is safe, friends, and no great harm | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924166 | done." "God be praised!" exclaimed Bradford's voice from within, and Brewster softly said, "Amen!" as he descended the ladder less easily than he had mounted it. At the foot he encountered Doctor Fuller, who with Standish had just been to Cole's Hill arranging for another line of graves. "Let me see your hands, Elder," demanded the physician in his usual | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924167 | dry fashion. "No need,'t is naught. Go look after your sick folk," replied the Elder trying to push past, but Fuller caught him by the sleeve, exclaiming sharply,-- "A man whose hands are needed for others as oft as thine are, has no right to let them become useless, and 't is not in reason but they are burned." "You're | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924168 | right, Fuller, and I'm but a froward child," said Brewster, a sudden smile replacing the frown of pain upon his face, and obediently opening out his burned and bleeding palms. "Come to the Common house, so as not to fright my wife within there, and do them up with some of your wonderful balsam." "And were it not for thought | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924169 | of your work, you would not have let me see them," said Fuller glancing from under his penthouse brows with a look of cynical admiration. "One cannot give thought to every pin-prick with such deadly sickness on all sides," replied Brewster simply. "Best go into the hospital and see if thy poor dying folk have taken any harm of the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924170 | fright before thou lookest after me." "The Captain has gone into the sick-house. I'll hold on to you," returned the Doctor curtly, and Brewster yielded with his ever gracious smile. That evening as the Elder with his bandaged hands, Carver, gaunt and pale from an attack of fever, Standish, Winslow, John Howland, and Doctor Fuller sat at supper in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924171 | Common house, Master Jones, followed by a sailor heavily laden, presented himself at the door. "Good e'en, Masters, and how are your sick folk?" demanded he, in a would-be cordial voice. "Thanks for your courtesy, Master Jones," replied the governor with grave politeness. "They are doing reasonably well, except some few who do not seem like to mend in this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924172 | world." "And Master Bradford? Sure he is not going to die?" pursued Jones in a voice of strange anxiety, as he sank into the great arm-chair Carver had proffered him. "He is as low as a man can be and live," broke in the doctor gruffly, as he fixed Jones with a glance of angry reproach, beneath which even that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924173 | rough companion quailed. "He sent aboard yesterday begging a can of beer," blurted he, his brown face reddening a little. "Yes," replied the governor sternly, "and you made answer that though it were your own father needing it, you would not stint yourself." "I said it, and I don't deny it," retorted Jones with a feeble attempt at bluster. "But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924174 | any man has a right to change his mind if he find cause, and I've changed mine as you will see, for I've brought not a can, but a runlet of beer for Bradford, and any others who crave it and are like to die wanting it; and when that is gone if Master Carver will send on board asking | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924175 | it for the sick folk, he shall have it though I be forced to drink water myself on the voyage home. I'll have no dead men haunting me and bringing a plague upon the ship." "Truly we are greatly beholden to you, Master Jones," began Carver in great surprise, but the mariner raised his hand and continued,-- "Nay, hear me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924176 | out, for that's not all. I went ashore to-day and shot five geese, and here they are, all of them, not one spared, though I could have well fancied a bit of goose to my supper, but I brought all to you, and more than that, even, for here is the better half of a buck we found in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924177 | wood ready shot to our hand. The Indians had cut off his horns and carried them away, and doubtless were gone for help to carry the carcase home when we came upon it; haply they saw us coming and made a run for it; at all odds they had left him as he fell, and Sir Wolf was already tearing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924178 | at his throat so busily that he knew not friends were nigh, until a bullet through his head heralded our coming. So here are the haunches for you, and I content myself with the poorer parts." Taking the articles named from a bag which the sailor had at his direction laid upon the floor, Jones ranged them in an imposing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924179 | line in the centre of the room, and resuming his chair looked at his hosts still in that conciliatory and half timid manner so utterly new to them and foreign to his usual demeanor. "We are, indeed, deeply beholden to you, Master Jones," said Carver at length in his grave and courteous tones. "But if I may freely speak my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924180 | thought, and if I read my brethren's minds aright, we cannot but muse curiously upon this sudden and marvelous change in your dealings with us, and would fain know its meaning." "Feeling certain that Master Jones is not one to give something for nothing, and so in common prudence wishing to know at the outset what price he expects for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924181 | bearing himself in Christian charity, as he seemeth desirous to do," suggested Standish with more candor than diplomacy. "Thou 'rt ever ready with thy gibes on better men than thyself, art not?" exclaimed Jones turning angrily upon him. For reply Standish leaned back in his chair, pulled at his red beard, and laughed contemptuously; but Winslow hastily interposed with a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924182 | voice like oil upon the waves. "Our captain will still have his jest upon all of us, Master Jones, but in truth as the governor hath said, we cannot but admire at this wonderful generosity on thy part, and fain would know whence it ariseth." "Why, sure 't is not far to seek," replied Jones with a hideous grimace intended | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924183 | for a conciliatory smile; "we have ever been good friends, have we not, and you all wish me well, as I do all of you. Certes, none of you would try to bring evil upon our heads, lest it fall upon your own instead, for still those who wish ill to others fall upon ill luck themselves. Is it not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924184 | so, Elder?" "Art speaking of Christian doctrine, or of heathen superstition, Master Jones?" inquired the Elder fixing his mild, yet penetrating eyes upon the seaman, who slunk beneath their gaze. "Nay, then!" blustered he rising to his feet, "I came hither when I would fain have stayed in my own cabin aboard, and I came not to chop logic nor | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924185 | to be put to the question like a malefactor, but to bring help to my sick neighbors, who, to be sure, cried out for it lustily enough before they got it, but now pick and question at my good meat and drink as if 't were like to poison them. Well, that's an end on 't, and you can take | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924186 | it or leave it, as you will. Good e'en to you." "Nay, nay, Master Jones," interposed Carver hastily, as the angry man made toward the door. "Let us not part thus, especially in view of thy great kindness toward us, for which, in good sooth, we are more grateful than we have yet expressed. Let pass the over curious queries | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924187 | we have ventured, and sit up at the table for a little meat and drink, such as it may be. Here is some broiled fish, and here some clams"-- "I care not for eating, having finished mine own supper but now," grumbled Jones sinking back into Carver's arm-chair; "still if you'll broach yon runlet of beer I'll taste a mug | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924188 | on 't, for my throat is as dry as a chimbley." "The beer is for our sick folk who crave it as they gather their strength," said Carver pleasantly; "but we have here a case of strong waters of our own, if that will serve thy turn." "Why, ay, 't will serve my turn better than t' other," replied Jones | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924189 | drawing his hairy hand across his mouth with an agreeable smile, as he added,-- "I did but ask for the beer, thinking you who are well needed the spirits for yourselves." "We can spare what we need for ourselves more lightly than what we need for others," said Carver in that grand simplicity of nature which fails to perceive the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924190 | magnificence of its own impulses. And from a shelf above his head the governor took a square bottle of spirits, while Howland poured water from a kettle over the fire into a pewter flagon, and produced a sugar bason from a chest in the corner of the room. These, with a smaller pewter cup, he placed before the seaman who | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924191 | eagerly mixed himself a stiff dram, drank it, and prepared another, which he sipped luxuriously, as leaning back in his chair he looked slowly around the circle of his entertainers, and finally burst forth,-- "The plain truth is, there are no folk like these in any latitude I've sailed, and a man must deal with them accordingly. 'T is what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924192 | I told Clarke and Coppin before I came ashore. What men but you would give another what you want yourselves, and lacking it may find yourselves in worse case than him you help? And 't is not all chat, for still I've marked it both afloat and ashore, and the poor wretches you've left in the ship will pluck the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924193 | morsel from their own lips to put it to another's. "So it is, that with all your losses, a kind of good luck aye follows you, and I shall not marvel if, in the end, you build up your colony here, and see good days when I am--well, it matters not where--I doubt me if priests or parsons know. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924194 | they who flout you or do you a churlish turn find no good luck resting on them, but rather a curse,--yea, I've marked that too. 'T is better to be friends than foes with some folk." "'Timeo Daneos et dona ferentes,'" quoted Winslow in the ear of Elder Brewster, who sat watching the sailor curiously, and now suddenly said,-- "And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924195 | so thy shipmen are very ill too, Master Jones!" "Lo you, now! I said naught of it, and how well you knew. What dost mean, Elder?" "Naught but friendly interest like thine own," replied the Elder gently, yet never removing that steadfast gaze, beneath which Jones fidgeted impatiently, and finally cried in a sort of desperate surrender,-- "Well, then, as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924196 | well you know already, 't is that matter brought me here to-night. My men have sickened daily, and everything hath gone awry, since we bundled you and your goods ashore a month or so agone, when some of you were fain to tarry aboard, or at least leave your stuff there, and come and go." "But thou wast afeard we | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924197 | should drink thy beer by stealth. Nay, thou saidst it," declared Standish disdainfully. "Well, yes, I'll not go back of saying it," retorted Jones half abashed and half defiant. "For where else shall you find me men who will drink water if another man hath beer where they may get it?" "We heard from our friends on board that scurvy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924198 | had broken out among the shipmen," said Carver motioning Standish to hold his peace. "Scurvy, and fever, and rheumaticks, and flux, and the foul fiend knoweth what beside," replied Jones desperately. "Now Clarke hath still been warning me that you were so sib with the saints"-- "Nay, God forbid!" ejaculated Brewster. Jones looked at him in astonishment, then nodding his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000012924199 | head as one who yields a point he cannot understand continued: "Well, if not the saints, whosoever you have put in their room; but Clarke says you are e'en like the warlocks of olden time who called fire out of heaven on their enemies, and it came as oft as they called; and he says Master Brewster is like some | 60 | gutenberg |
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