CHAPTER IV
WITH THE MASHPEES
Amos was so frequently in his boat that no one gave any especialattention when they saw him push off from shore and row steadily in thedirection of Truro. He was not missed at home until supper time; then,as the little family gathered around the table, Mrs. Cary said:
"'Tis time Amos was here. He's not often late for his supper."
"He won't be here for supper," announced Amanda; "he's gone to findAnne!"
"My soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Cary; "gone to find Anne, indeed. Whatpossesses the children of this settlement is more than I can answer. Andyou, Amanda! Here you are all smiles and twinkles, as if you thought ita great thing for your brother to start off like this."
"He's gone by boat, I vow," said Mr. Cary.
"Yes, he means to row to Truro, and catch up with Anne. And he said totell you he'd be back, or get you news of him in some way, bySaturday," and Amanda nodded smilingly, as if she were quite sure thather father and mother would be quite satisfied with Amos now that shehad given them his message.
"Amos shall have his way in one thing," said Mr. Cary. "As soon as he isback, aye, if he comes Saturday or not, I'll put him aboard the firstcraft that can get out of harbor, and the farther her port the better. Ayear on shipboard is what the boy needs."
"You wouldn't send the boy with a strange captain?" Mrs. Cary questionedanxiously.
"Indeed I will. So long as he's on board a ship we shall know where heis," declared Amos's father. "We can do nothing now but wait. Find Anne,indeed! who knows where to look for the poor child?"
"Amos knows," said Amanda.
But Mr. and Mrs. Cary shook their heads. They did not feel much anxietyas to Amos's safety, for the boys of the settlement were used todepending on themselves, and many boys no older than Amos Cary or JimmieStarkweather had made a voyage to the West Indies, or to some farsouthern port; but they were displeased that he should have started offwithout permission.
Saturday came, but Amos did not appear, but toward evening a Truro manbrought Mr. Cary word that Amos had been in Truro, and had started forBrewster that morning.
"He's a sailor, that boy!" declared the Truro man admiringly. "Hehoisted that square foot of sail-cloth, and went out of harbor atsunrise with a fair wind. He said he had 'business in Brewster,'" andthe Truro man laughed good-naturedly. "But he's a smart boy," he added.
Mr. Cary made no answer, but his stern face softened a little at thepraise of Amos. Nevertheless he was firmly resolved that Amos should besent on a long voyage. "The harder master he has the better," thoughtthe father. "I'm too easy with him."
When Amos hoisted his "square foot of sail" and headed for Wellfleet, hesaw a canoe some distance ahead of him.
"Two squaws paddling and one doing nothing," thought the boy. "Wonderwhere they're bound?" But it was no unusual sight to see Indian canoesin those waters, and Amos did not think much about it. But his coursebrought him nearer and nearer to the graceful craft, and all at once henoticed that the figure sitting in the canoe was a little white girl.At that very moment Anne turned her face toward him.
"Amos!" she exclaimed, springing to her feet.
There was an angry exclamation from the squaw, a yell from Nakanit, andin an instant the girls and woman were in the water. Anne's jump hadupset the delicately balanced craft. The baskets bobbed and floated onthe water. Anne's bundle was not to be seen, while Anne herself,clutching at the slippery side of the canoe called "Amos! Amos!" in aterrified voice.
But it was no new experience for either the squaw or Nakanit. In amoment Anne felt a strong grasp on her shoulder. "Keep quiet," commandedthe squaw. "Let go the canoe." As Anne obeyed she saw Nakanit closebeside her, and, while the squaw kept her firm grasp on Anne's shoulder,the girl righted the canoe, and easily and surely regained her place init. The squaw lifted Anne in, and quickly followed her. Amos had broughthis boat as near as possible and now rescued the baskets and floatingpaddles, and handed them to Nakanit.
The squaw scowled at Anne, and when the girl bewailed her lost bundlemuttered angrily.
"Want to get in my boat, Anne?" asked the boy.
Before Anne could answer the squaw with a strong sweep of her paddle hadsent the canoe some distance from the boat, while Nakanit called backsome word to Amos, evidently of warning not to follow them. But Anneturned her head and called "Amos! Amos!" For the scowling faces of hercompanions frightened her, and she wished herself safely in Amos's boat.
The breeze had now died away, and Amos was soon left some distancebehind. Anne did not dare turn her head to see if he were following thecanoe, which was now moving ahead rapidly as the Indians swiftly wieldedtheir paddles.
"Go to Brewster," announced the squaw after a little silence.
Anne, huddled up in her wet clothes, frightened and unhappy, nodded herhead in answer. Then, remembering that the squaw had bidden her to sitstill, and that her jump had upset the canoe, she ventured to say: "I'msorry I jumped."
The squaw's scowl disappeared, and she gave a grunt of approval, andthen, evidently, repeated Anne's words to Nakanit, for the Indian girlsmiled and nodded. Anne began to realize that they were really kind andgood-natured, and that she had no reason to be afraid.
"I was surprised to see Amos," she continued.
The squaw nodded again, and repeated, "Go to Brewster."
Anne could now hear the sound of the oars, and knew that Amos was rowingtoward them. The paddles began to move more swiftly, and the sound ofthe oars grew more indistinct. Anne realized that Amos could not keep upwith the canoe. But she was sure that he would follow them, and it madeher feel less uneasy.
"Amos is a good boy," she explained to the squaw, but there was noresponse. "I'd like to tell him that you've been good to me," continuedAnne.
At this the squaw, with a word to Nakanit, held her paddle motionless,and very soon Amos was close beside them.
"Tell him," commanded the squaw.
So Anne told her little story of adventure, and said, "And they aregoing to take me right to Rose Freeman in Brewster. Nakanit's mothertalks English."
Amos listened in amazement. "I told Amanda you'd started for Brewster,"he responded, "and I sent word to father that I was going there, so Imight as well go. I've got things to eat. Amanda's sorry," he added,looking rather shamed as he spoke his sister's name.
The squaw now dipped her paddle again, and the canoe and boat movedforward. Anne began to think about her lost bundle, and to remember howneatly Rose Freeman dressed. "She will be ashamed of me," thought thegirl, looking down at her wet and faded skirt and bare feet.
"Say, don't we stop anywhere for dinner?" asked Amos. "It's getting hotwork rowing all this time."
The squaw looked at the boy sharply, and then turned the canoe towardthe shore. They landed on a beach, close by the mouth of a stream ofclear water. A little way from the beach they found shade under abranching oak-tree.
"I'll build a fire," suggested Amos, "and I'll get some clams; shall I?"and he turned toward the squaw.
She nodded, and seemed rather surprised when she saw that the boyunderstood her own way of getting fire, and when he asked for a basketand soon returned with it well filled with clams, which he roasted inthe hot sand under the coals, she evidently began to think well of him.Amos shared his bread and a piece of cold beef which he had brought fromhome with his companions, and, with a quantity of blueberries thatNakanit had gathered while Amos roasted the clams, they all had enoughto eat, and Amos said everything tasted better than if eaten in thehouse, at which the squaw nodded and smiled.
Anne found a chance to whisper to Amos: "Don't tell her I ran away."
"All right, but I fear she knows it," replied the boy.
It was in the early evening when the canoe, closely followed by Amos'srowboat, left Wellfleet harbor behind them and headed for Brewster. Thesquaw had decided that it would be easier to go on than to wait foranother day, and Anne and Amos were glad to go on as soon as possible.
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bsp; At first Amos had wondered why the squaw had promised to take Anne toBrewster, and had decided that probably the Indians were bound in thatdirection when they fell in with Anne. This was really one reason, butit was Anne's mention of the name of Freeman that had made the squawwilling to do the girl a service. For the Freemans of Brewster had beengood friends to the Mashpee Indians, and the squaw felt bound to helpany friend of theirs.
She had questioned Amos sharply as to his reason for following Anne, andAmos had told her the truth: that his sister had not treated Annefairly, so that Anne had been punished, and had run away. "So, ofcourse," added the boy, "I had to come after her and be sure that shewas all right."
The squaw understood, and evidently thought well of Amos for hisundertaking. Anne felt much happier to know that a friend was close athand, and that Amos on his return home would tell her Aunt MarthaStoddard that she was safely in Brewster. But the lost bundle troubledher a good deal. As she sat in the swiftly moving canoe and watched thesteady dip of the paddles she thought that the Indians had been verygood to her. "If I had my bundle now I would give Nakanit the cape andthe beads; indeed I would," she said to herself.
The midsummer moon shone down upon the beautiful harbor. Every woodedpoint or sloping field was plainly outlined in the clear water, andthere was the pleasant fragrance of pine and bayberry mingled with thesoft sea air. It was much pleasanter than journeying in the sun. Thesquaw and Nakanit began to sing, and although neither Anne nor Amosunderstood the words, they were both sure that the musical notes told ofbirds flying over moonlit water.
It was midnight when the squaw turned the canoe toward shore. It provedto be the mouth of a small inlet up which they went for some distance,Amos keeping close behind.
"Look, Anne!" he exclaimed as the Indians stopped paddling. "There is acamp-fire. I do believe it's the Mashpee village."
"Sshh," warned the squaw in a sharp voice. At the sound of the boy'svoice a number of dark figures appeared to spring up from the ground,and the squaw called out a word of greeting. A moment later she wastalking rapidly to several tall figures who came to meet her, evidentlytelling Anne's story and that of Amos.
Anne could distinguish the word "Freeman" in the squaw's talk.
Amos pulled his boat up on shore, and stood wondering what would happennext. He looked toward the wigwams and the smoldering camp-fires, andalmost forgave Amanda, because his journey was bringing him into theMashpee village.
One of the Indians gave him a little push, and pointed toward a wigwam.It was evident that the squaw was the only one who spoke English.
"Go with him," she said to Amos.
"All right," responded the boy; "here's your bundle, Anne," he said,holding it out toward her. "I fished it out of the water when you tippedover. Guess it isn't much wet."
Anne was almost too delighted to speak. She hugged the bundle in herarms and followed Nakanit up the path toward the village. This wasevidently the squaw's home, and her wigwam had many deerskins, blanketsand baskets.
Nakanit led Anne toward the back of the wigwam where lay a pile ofspruce boughs over which deerskins were thrown. In a few moments theIndian girl and Anne lay on this rude couch fast asleep.
When Anne awoke the next morning there was no one in the wigwam.Everything seemed very quiet. Anne's first thought was for her belovedbundle that she had carefully set down beside her bed. It was not there.The little girl slid to her feet, and began looking about the wigwam.There was no trace of it. Anne began to feel very unhappy. It had beenhard to make up her mind to give Nakanit her treasured corals and herpretty cape, but it was even harder to bear to have them disappear likethis. She threw herself back on the bed and began to cry bitterly. Shewished that Rose Freeman had never thought of asking her to come toBrewster, and that she was safe in Province Town with Aunt Martha.
She stopped crying suddenly, for she felt a hand smoothing her hair, andshe looked up to find Nakanit sitting beside her, and at her feet restedthe bundle. It was plain that the mischievous Indian girl had wished totease the little white girl, but had relented at the sight of her tears.
"Oh," exclaimed Anne, "I'm so glad!" and she began to unfasten thebundle, spreading out the blue cape and muslin dress, and laying"Martha Stoddard" down on the deerskins. Then she took up the string ofcoral beads and turning toward Nakanit fastened them around her neck. "Iwant to give you these for being good to me," she said. The Indian girlunderstood the gift if not the words, and was evidently delighted.Hearing a noise at the entrance they looked up to see the squaw smilingin at them. She had heard Anne's words, and now came toward the girls.Anne picked up her blue cape and held it out toward the squaw. "I wish Ihad something better to give you," she said.
The squaw took it eagerly, and with a grunt of satisfaction, and then,turning to Nakanit, began chattering rapidly. Nakanit ran toward a bigbasket in the corner and came back with several pairs of soft moccasins.Kneeling before Anne she tried them on her feet until a pair was foundthat fitted.
"Now go with Nakanit to the lake," said the squaw, and Anne followedNakanit out of the wigwam through the woods to a clear little lake wherethe girls bathed, braided their hair, and then came back to eat heartilyof the simple food the squaw gave them.