CHAPTER XXV.
NOVA ANGLIA.
Good fortune and fair weather smiled upon the two travellers during theremainder of their journey, and not another notable adventure befellthem before they rode from the forest during the fall of day, and sawthe fenced fields of the Lincolnshire farmers stretching before themdown the Atlantic slope. Melancholy stumps of trees dotted theprospect as far as the eye could travel; beyond, the thatched or woodenroofs of small houses glowed in the strong light; and from the fardistance came the inspiring wash of the sea.
Von Donck reined in his pony and fell from the saddle. "Dost now feelat home?" he cried.
Somewhat sadly Geoffrey shook his head. He was indeed grievouslydisappointed to find New England so different from the old. He hadhoped to see neat hedgerows, compact farms, and sloping meadows, suchas he might have looked on in his native county of Berks. He had hopedto see a wain creaking over the fields, to hear the crack of a whip andthe carter's cheery song. He saw nothing but poverty, smallbeginnings, and the signs of a hard struggle for existence. Some menwere working in the distance. He could see the quick flash of theiraxes and hear the solemn blows as steel bit the wood. Between drearylines of fencing, jagged stubs, patches of corn, showing yellow hereand there, springing from every cultivated foot of ground; beyond, someacres of burnt ground, and those cold wooden houses with their enormouschimneys, so altogether unlike the warm brickwork of Old England homes.
"This is not Virginia?" he asked.
"Virginia lies five hundred miles to the south, very far beyondHudson's River," replied Von Donck. "'Tis a fairer province than this,and better settled, because older. Be not downcast, boy. Here thoughtis free, and here a man may reap the full reward of his labours. Youshall find no tax, nor persecution, nor kingly oppression in this land.Here the people rule for the people; and here you may worship God afteryour own inclining, and dwell in peace all the days of your life."
"It is a barren land," protested Viner.
"What would you look for in the new world? That island of yours wasonce a land of forest and swamp. The first man was put into the gardento till it. Labour shall conquer here as elsewhere. Mark you therichness of the soil and the purity of the air. Here you shall fear nopestilence, and if your hands be not afraid to work you shall raise twocrops of corn in one season. Gold and silver there are none; but hewho owns an ox and has no corn may exchange with him who has corn butwants for meat. In our settlement we use strings of wampum forcurrency. A shell from the beach becomes gold when it shall buy a manthat which he lacks."
The comrades drew back into the forest and waited for evening, becauseGeoffrey would not advance alone, and Von Donck dared not risk his lifeamong the Puritans, who were at war with the people of New Netherlands.They partook of their last meal together, and when the shadow of nightgrew heavy upon the fields, Pieter rose and shook himself.
"We have now come to the parting of our ways," he muttered. "You areamong your people. We will together cross yonder fields, and then youshall wish me God-speed. The town of Boston lies upon your right hand.I shall beat inland at the base of Connecticut, until I reach the bankof Hudson's River, and there I am upon my own territory where no manshall lead me. I shall ride beside the river until I come to thelittle city of the Manhattoes, where William Kieft rules. San Nicolas!How old Will the Testy shall stare and blow at his pipe when he seesPieter von Donck on the steps of his bowerie!"
They set out upon the last stage along a trail between the whisperingcorn. Von Donck had grown suddenly silent. He plucked at the pantherskin, snorting occasionally, and casting side glances at his companion,who rode close to his side, intent upon the prospect of low houses andbroken bush. When Geoffrey at length leaned over with a warning topoint out the figure of a man, who was proceeding down a side path witha dog at his heels, the old Dutchman replied by touching the shouldernearest him and saying:
"Dost feel the smart of that wound yet?"
"It is nothing," Geoffrey answered. "See you not that man advancing?"
"The marks shall remain," went on Pieter solemnly. "The scar will bethere to remind you of a good friend in New Amsterdam. My lad, I shallseek to hear of you. Each time I look on this skin I shall breathe awish for the happiness of the boy who saved my life in the crystalhills. When you come to make your home in Virginia, send to Pieter vonDonck at the hostel by San Nicolas, and if he be alive, and not growntoo fat to walk, he will come out to meet you. Will not forget the oldrogue who tricked the French?"
Geoffrey put out his hand and grasped the podgy fingers. "May I meet atraitor's end if I forget my friend," he answered. "Had it not beenfor you my dry body would now be swinging in the wind of the mountains.I wish you well, Pieter; I shall ever wish you well. Now ride! Youwould not have me fight for you against my own people."
"There is no English blood in him," snorted Von Donck. "A Dutchman, Isay, a Dutchman to the ends of his hair."
The dog was bounding towards the travellers, and the farmer put up hishand and hailed them.
"We are Englishmen," Geoffrey called back.
"Now, by the sack of San Nicolas, out upon you," shouted Von Donck. "Iam no Englishman. I am a Hollander, fellow, Hollander from head toheel."
"Ride!" exclaimed Geoffrey, smiting his comrade's mount. "God be withyou, Pieter."
"And you, boy."
Von Donck lashed his pony and the nimble animal bounded off to thewest, while Geoffrey dismounted, and, holding the savage dog at baywith his sword, advanced to meet the owner of the land.
"Do not fear, friend," he said, as they drew together. "I am no spy,but an Englishman from the north. He who rides yonder is a friendlyDutchman who has accompanied me upon the way. I pray you tell me is myLord Baltimore within the town?"
The settler, a tall man in a quaker hat and black cloak, which fellfrom his neck almost to the ground, regarded the speaker with cold,unfavouring eyes.
"You know little of this country, young sir, if you believe that LordBaltimore governs here," he replied at length. "You stand within theprovince of Massachusetts beside the town of Boston, and the lord youseek rules over the province of Maryland and that country to the westof the bay of Chesapeake."
Geoffrey's heart sank at this chill reception, and he lowered his eyesdespondently before the stern gaze of the Puritan as he answered:
"I come to pray for a ship and men to be sent against the French, whohold the north. He who sent me, charging me to deliver this ring inhis name to Lord Baltimore, believes that his countrymen and mine willnot fail to help us in the time of need."
"Put not your trust in Massachusetts," said the listener dourly. "Wehave much ado to defend ourselves against the Mohicans and the pinch offamine. We know not ourselves where to turn for aid, and your cry isours also. You have reached the valley of dry bones, young stranger."
"The dry bones stood up in an exceeding great army," returned Geoffreyboldly.
"Even so. If it be God's will, we also shall stand up. What is thename of him who sent you?"
"Sir Thomas Iden."
"Of county Kent?"
"The same."
"I have heard of that family as most loyal to the Crown. Arms, achevron between three close helmets, if my memory mistake not. I alsoam from the south, driven out, like many a better man, by the hand ofpersecution. Come now! I will lead you to the house of John Winthrop,our governor."
The town of Boston was then a mere village of distressful huts crowdedwithin a great palisade; the single street, which led to a quay ofclosely-packed logs covered by stones with earth atop, was rough groundover which the tyreless wheels of primitive carts jolted woefully. Thecandle-light from a few windows shed a dreary gleam across the way,where men closely muffled drifted along with a stern "Good-e'en."There was neither laughter nor tavern-singing nor play-acting in thatcheerless town, no throwing of dice nor rattle of cups. The Puritanmind was dominant; and the only sound of music that disturbed theunhappy sil
ence was the lugubrious droning of a psalm or sad-toned hymn.
A lamp flickered near the entry, and beside the watchman, who kept thelight burning at the gate, stretched a board; and upon the boardappeared in short black letters the notice:--
"No person within this province, professing to believe in Jesus Christ,shall be in any ways troubled, molested, or discountenanced for his orher religion, or in the free exercise thereof."
"See!" said the guide, without a smile. "Here we have liberty!"
At the entrance to a low house near the end of the street they stopped,and the guide knocked. After a long interval a shutter was pushed backand a voice demanded to know who it was that knocked.
"A stranger from the north to see the governor," said the guide.
The voice grumbled and lessened gradually, still grumbling, until itsounded more loudly and the door opened. An old man stood on thethreshold, a lighted candle in his hand, the thick grease running uponhis fingers. He looked from one to the other, and cried in a shrillvoice: "The governor is with his reverence. The stranger must wait."
"I am content to wait," said Geoffrey.
Hearing a sound, he looked back, and saw the man who had brought him sofar already receding in the gloom of the street. The porter bade himenter, and when he had done so provided him with a seat, and there lefthim for a good hour, at the end of which time he reappeared in darknessand said shortly: "Come!"
The room into which Geoffrey was ushered contained all the marks ofextreme poverty. The light came from one great log glowing in the bigfireplace, for the night was chill with the breath of the sea and asharp north wind. Two figures occupied this comfortless room, one oneither side of the fire, the older man attired in the simple gown andbands of a minister of religion; the other, dark, with luminous eyesand white forehead, leaned forward, the long fingers of his right handtrifling with his wig. Both were well-known in their generation. Thelayman was John Winthrop; the minister Roger Williams.
"You are welcome to Boston, sir," said Winthrop, without rising, butmerely lifting his head in the firelight to scan the face of thevisitor. "Come you to our town by chance?"
"I come from the far north to seek aid," said Geoffrey, with a boyishpride which caused Williams to frown.
"_Terra incognita_ indeed," he murmured. "A cold land where Popery isrampant. How great is the distance, and how came you thence?"
Geoffrey told his story and delivered his message. The two men watchedhim intently, Winthrop always playing with his wig, Williams leaningout with hands clasped over a massive Bible held upon his knee. WhenGeoffrey had finished his tale, there was a moment of silence, brokenonly by the spitting of the fire. Then the Puritans looked across thehearth and smiled.
"The poor man is the helper of the poor," murmured Williams.
John Winthrop laughed bitterly.
"When a poor man begs of me he has my all, and that I give to our poorbrethren in the north. They have my prayers. Young man," he went on,rising and confronting the messenger, "you have nobly performed a nobleduty; but in coming to us you confront poverty indeed. Here night andday we struggle for existence. I myself have gone to rest, knowing nothow to face the morrow. We have our wives and little ones to feed andprotect, and these are our first charge. Daily the cry goes out to us:'We want.' Nightly we dread to hear the shout of 'Mohican invasion.'We fight, not for fame nor for honour among nations, but for a footholdupon this continent, where we are striving to plant a home for thefree, to the glory of God, and the shame of England who has cast usout. Young man, you have done your duty."
"And your help shall come from Heaven," murmured the divine deeply.
"I shall proceed to Lord Baltimore. To him I was sent," said Geoffrey.
"Go to him if you will, but the answer you shall there receive will bethat you have heard already," said Winthrop. "Virginia is in sorestraits, being unable to convey her tobacco crop to the Old World,since there are no English ships to cross the seas."
"Nevertheless I shall go," said Geoffrey.
John Winthrop bowed his head. "You shall sleep under my roof thisnight and accept what poor hospitality I have to offer. My friend andservant shall minister to your needs."
He made a slight movement of his hand to signify that the interview wasended, and the messenger retired, sorely depressed at the manner of hisreception. The old man who had opened the door gave him food anddrink, asking no question and imparting no information; but continuallydroning through his nose a hymn, or muttering in gloomy tones some sadportion of the Scriptures. He was one of the most zealous ofWinthrop's company, all of whom were Nonconformists, but notseparatists. Indeed, they esteemed it an honour to call themselvesmembers of the English Church, and openly admitted that they hademigrated in order that they might be divided from her corruptions, butnot from herself. For all his devotion, the old servant was not acheerful companion for a man who was already cast down in mind, andGeoffrey was glad to be rid of him and alone in a cold, bare room,which was as sad in all its details as the men who occupied the town.
It was long before sleep came to the traveller. He had become soaccustomed to the open air that the atmosphere of his room stifled him.When at last he succeeded in finding unconsciousness the boom of thesea shook the house and occupied his brain.
Morning came, and with it a heavy tramp of feet. A rough hand struckthe door, and the sleeper awakened with a start, to behold at his sidethree men, cloaked and stern, the foremost holding a scrap of paper, towhich was affixed a red official seal.
"Sir stranger, surrender yourself," he said.
"What means this?" exclaimed Geoffrey. "I am an Englishman in a colonyof the English."
"The charge against you is that of treason," replied the stern Puritan.
"Treason!" repeated the young man; and rose dumbfounded.
"It is suspected that you are a spy, in the employ of our enemies theDutch."