The Mayflower and the Pilgrims' New World* (20 page)

It was a bold, risky, and outrageous plan. By playing the English against the Pokanokets, he was trying to revive his family's fortunes. For squanto, it had all been about honor, “which he loved as his life,” Winslow wrote, “and preferred before his peace.” In just a year, squanto had gone from being Massasoit's prisoner to being one of his chief rivals. But his ambitions, it now seemed, had gotten the better of him.

Under the terms of the treaty drawn up the previous year, Bradford was required to turn squanto over to Massasoit for punishment. But Bradford could not bear the thought of being without his interpreter.

His attachment to squanto appears to have gone well beyond the need for an Indian who could speak both languages. squanto had become part of the Plymouth community about the same time that Bradford had become governor, and Bradford was willing to risk the anger of the supreme sachem of the Pokanokets if it meant keeping squanto as his interpreter.

In May, Massasoit appeared at Plymouth and was “much offended and enraged” against squanto. He said that the traitor must die. Bradford attempted to calm down the sachem, but not long after he returned to Pokanoket, Massasoit sent a messenger insisting that squanto be put to death immediately. While acknowledging that squanto deserved to die, Bradford stubbornly insisted that his interpreter was vital to the plantation and therefore could not be executed. Within a day of leaving for Pokanoket, Massasoit's messenger was back again, this time with several warriors. They had brought their sachem's knife and had been instructed to return to Pokanoket with squanto's head and hands. They even offered to pay off the governor with some furs.

Bradford refused the payment, but did agree to send for squanto. The interpreter bravely appeared before Bradford and the Pokanokets, and insisted that none of this was his fault. It was Hobbamock who was “the author and worker of his overthrow.” In the end, though, squanto knew he had no choice but to accept whatever the governor thought was right.

Bradford seemed ready to turn him over to Massasoit's men when a boat appeared off the Gurnet. The Governor said he would not surrender squanto until he could determine who was on the boat. If it was French, they might be on the verge of attack.

But Massasoit's men refused to wait. “[B]eing mad with rage,” Winslow reported, “and impatient at delay, they departed in great heat.” squanto had lived to see another day.

◆◆◆ The boat was a shallop from an English ship hired by Thomas Weston, the London Adventurer. Weston had pledged his undying loyalty to the Pilgrim cause in an earlier letter, but in the months ahead, Bradford learned that all those promises were “but wind.” Not only had Weston abandoned them, he was now their competitor. Weston had secured a patent for his own settlement and had the nerve to expect the Pilgrims to host his sixty or so settlers as their leaders searched for a settlement site. He communicated this information in a series of “tedious and impertinent” letters that Bradford hid from everyone but his most trusted friends.

Even though Weston had betrayed them, Bradford felt that he still should offer the men the requested hospitality. The settlement had been on half rations before the addition of all these men; now it was on the edge of starvation.

As if this wasn't bad enough, Bradford learned that the
Fortune,
the ship they had loaded with clapboards in the fall, had been captured by the French just before the ship arrived in England. They had lost everything. The voyage that was to have cut their debt in half had put them even deeper in the hole. “I pray you be not discouraged,” wrote Robert Cushman, the Pilgrim who had negotiated the original agreement with the Adventurers, “but gather up yourself, to go through these difficulties cheerfully and with courage in that place wherein God hath set you, until the day of refreshing come.”

Then they received a different sort of letter. To the northeast, off the coast of modern Maine, the codfishing season was in full swing. Between three hundred and four hundred vessels were gathered off that rocky coast, and a master of one of the ships had written the Pilgrims with some disturbing news from Jamestown, Virginia. That spring, the Indians had killed 347 English colonists—more than four times the total population of Plymouth. “Happy is he,” the codfisherman wrote, “whom other men's harms doth make to beware.”

At this point, the Pilgrims' relations with the Indians were at a new low. Thanks to squanto's betrayal and Bradford's reluctance to punish his interpreter, they could no longer count on the support of their former allies the Pokanokets. Recognizing that the English were newly vulnerable, the Massachusetts and Narragansetts were said to be planning an assault on Plymouth.

Bradford decided that the wall was not enough. If they should become the victims of a Jamestown-like attack, they needed a heavily reinforced structure that was large enough for all of them. They needed a fort. If it were built atop the hill overlooking the town, it might very well save their lives. Even though food supplies were still low, the Pilgrims launched into the work. It was hoped that the mere presence of this strong, well-defended structure would be enough to discourage future Indian attacks.

But as the work progressed, many of the settlers began to lose their enthusiasm for the project. Given the uncertainty of the Indian threat, they found it hard to spend so much time and effort on another defensive measure—especially given their lack of food. What amazed Edward Winslow during the summer and fall of 1622 was how “reasonable men [will be led] to reason against their own safety.”

If they were to have any hope of completing the fort, they needed more food. Even though they lived on the edge of one of the world's great fishing grounds, the Pilgrims had no skills or equipment to catch fish, so Winslow headed out in the shallop on an emergency mission to visit the fishermen of Maine, where he succeeded in securing some desperately needed food.

◆
A nineteenth-century drawing of how the fort might have looked.

◆◆◆ By fall, the fort was nearing completion, and Weston's men had left Plymouth to settle at Wessagussett, about twenty-two miles to the north. Taking their cue from the Pilgrims, the men at Wessagussett immediately began building a fort of their own. It was then decided the two settlements should band together in search of provisions and take Wessagussett's thirty-ton vessel, the
Swan,
on a trading voyage to the south of Cape Cod.

Miles standish was to lead the expedition, but in November, the normally healthy captain was struck by a bad fever. so William Bradford decided to go instead, with squanto as his guide and interpreter. since May, squanto had done his best to win back the confidence of both Bradford and Massasoit. Winslow claimed that by the time the
Swan
departed from Plymouth, squanto had secured a “peace” with the Pokanoket sachem. It is difficult to imagine how squanto could have regained Massasoit's trust, but squanto, at least, believed that all was once again right. It was now safe for him to leave Plymouth.

In order to sail to the south of Cape Cod, they had to get through the same shoals that had almost wrecked the
Mayflower
two years before. Once again, they were quickly surrounded by breaking waves. The
Swan
's master “saw no hope of passage.” They headed for shore where squanto said they might spend the night. Using the shallop to scout ahead of them, they followed a narrow and crooked channel and soon had the
Swan
safely anchored in the harbor of modern Chatham, known then as Manamoyick.

That evening Bradford and squanto went ashore to speak with the local Indians. Only after the Manamoyicks had hidden away most of their goods and provisions were they willing to entertain the two in their wigwams. It took some convincing, but eventually they agreed to trade. Over the next few days, with squanto's help, Bradford secured some corn and beans.

Just before they were about to leave for a second attempt at crossing the breakers, squanto suddenly fell ill. Bradford described it as an “Indian fever, bleeding much at the nose (which the Indians take for a symptom of death).” Within a few days, squanto—the Indian whom Bradford valued so highly that he had put the entire plantation at risk rather than see him killed—was dead.

Bradford claimed squanto asked him “to pray for him that he might go to the Englishmen's God in Heaven; and bequeathed sundry of his things to sundry of his English friends as remembrances of his love.” For Bradford, it was yet another terrible loss. With Dorothy, Governor Carver, and now squanto dead, he once again had to regroup and find a way to continue on.

Bradford assumed that his trusted interpreter had died of natural causes. But he may have been the victim of a plot masterminded by Massasoit. Although difficult to document, there were several suspected poisonings of high-ranking Indians in New England during the seventeenth century. That squanto, who had survived the infectious streets of London, should suddenly die from disease on Cape Cod is highly unlikely. Massasoit may have finally gotten his revenge on squanto.

Without squanto to guide them, the Pilgrims now turned to Hobbamock as their guide—a warrior loyal to both Massasoit and Miles standish. But it remained to be seen whether Massasoit still held squanto's betrayal against the Pilgrims. A year ago, there had been trust and friendship between Plymouth and the Pokanokets. Now there was uncertainty and lingering bitterness. In the months ahead, a brutal darkness would fall across New England.

NINE

PLYMOUTH BY THE
winter of 1623 was a place of exceptional discipline, a community where shared religious beliefs and family ties had united the Leideners from the start, and where two years of strong leadership on the part of William Bradford had convinced even the strangers that it was in their best interests to work together. some twenty miles to the north, at Wessagussett, an entirely different community had come into being.

Wessagussett was more like early Jamestown—a group of unattached men with relatively little in common. In the beginning, they worked together to build a fort. But once that was completed, they were unprepared to face the hard New England winter. suffering from a deadly combination of hunger and despair, the colonists seemed unable to adapt to the demands of the New World.

Wessagussett was also right beside a settlement of Massachusett Indians. Not only was the threat of attack greater, but there was also a powerful form of temptation. The Indians possessed corn that they were saving for the spring.

In February, John sanders, the settlement's leader, wrote to Governor Bradford, asking if it was right to steal some of the Indians' corn, especially if they promised to reimburse them once they'd grown their own corn in the summer. This was, of course, almost exactly what the Pilgrims had done two years before, but Bradford urged them to leave the corn alone, “for it might so exasperate the Indians ... [that] all of us might smart for it.”

About this time, Miles standish traveled to Manomet, just fifteen miles to the south of Plymouth, to pick up some of the corn Bradford had bought during his trading voyage with squanto. standish was being entertained by sachem Canacum when two Massachusett Indians arrived with word from sachem Obtakiest at Wessagussett.

One of the Indians was a warrior of immense pride named Wituwamat, who bragged of having once killed several French sailors. Wituwamat possessed an ornately carved knife that he had taken from one of his victims. soon after his arrival, he presented the knife to Canacum and began “a long speech in an audacious manner.” Without the assistance of an interpreter, standish was not sure what Wituwamat was saying, but he did know that once the Indian had completed his speech, he—not standish—became Canacum's favored guest and Wituwamat's “entertainment much exceeded the captain's.”