It seemed like a warm day by comparison to the harsh winter that had killed 45 of the 102
of them. The settlers, by now a bedraggled
bunch were out and about in their small compound on the sheltered side of a hook-shaped cape that jutted into the Atlantic Ocean. They called
the place, somewhat grandly, New
Plymouth. They were religious dissenters, and the sailors and tradesmen they employed.
We call them the Pilgrims.
They called themselves the
Company. That day they were paying
particular attention to the professional
soldier among them. Native tribes were moving in the
vicinity and at least some seemed hostile.
The soldier, Miles Standish,
was trying to organize a militia force.
Sometime that morning, March 16,
1621, a native man startled the
settlers by casually strolling from the woods into the clearing of the
village. He wore only a loin cloth and was very lightly armed with a bow and arrow which he did not display
threateningly. The frightened,
agitated settlers accosted him. Then he spoke, astonishing them all.
He greeted them in broken, but clearly understandable English! “Welcome,
Englishmen! My name is Samoset.”
He did not come from the local tribes, but was visiting among
them. He was a Sagamore—local
chieftain of an Algonquian people from
what is now Maine. He had met and learned English from fishermen who plied waters of Monhegan
Island twelve miles off the
coast. The fishermen traded with
the natives on the island. They took
Samoset whether as a slave, hostage, or visitor, with them
to England but allowed him to return to his people on the next
voyage to the rich fishery.
Samoset was dwelling that season with the distantly related Wampanoag
led by the Sachem—the local language variant of Sagamore—Massasoit. His extended
presence among these people was indicative of the web of social and trade relations that connected tribes
and clans over great distances.
In 1622, William Bradford described the meeting:
Friday the 16th a fair warm day
towards; this morning we determined to conclude of the military orders, which
we had begun to consider of before but were interrupted by the savages, as we
mentioned formerly; and whilst we were busied hereabout, we were interrupted
again, for there presented himself a savage, which caused an alarum. He very
boldly came all alone and along the houses straight to the rendezvous, where we
intercepted him, not suffering him to go in, as undoubtedly he would, out of
his boldness. He saluted us in English, and bade us welcome, for he had learned
some broken English among the Englishmen that came to fish at Monchiggon, and
knew by name the most of the captains, nigers, and masters that usually came.
He was a man free in speech, so far as he could express his mind, and of a
seemly carriage. We questioned him of many things; he was the first savage we
could meet withal. He said he was not of these parts, but of Morattiggon, and
one of the sagamores or lords thereof, and had been eight months in these
parts, it lying hence a day's sail with a great wind, and five days by land. He
discoursed of the whole country, and of every province, and of their sagamores,
and their number of men, and strength. The wind being to rise a little, we cast
a horseman's coat about him, for he was stark naked, only a leather about his
waist, with a fringe about a span long, or little more; he had a bow and two
arrows, the one headed, and the other unheaded. He was a tall straight man, the
hair of his head black, long behind, only short before, none on his face at
all; he asked some beer, but we gave him strong water and biscuit, and butter,
and cheese, and pudding, and a piece of mallard, all which he liked well, and
had been acquainted with such amongst the English. He told us the place where
we now live is called Patuxet, and that about four years ago all the
inhabitants died of an extraordinary plague, and there is neither man, woman,
nor child remaining, as indeed we have found none, so as there is none to hinder
our possession, or to lay claim unto it. All the afternoon we spent in
communication with him; we would gladly have been rid of him at night, but he
was not willing to go this night. Then we thought to carry him on shipboard,
wherewith he was well content, and went into the shallop, but the wind was high
and the water scant, that it could not return back. We lodged him that night at
Stephen Hopkins’ house, and watched him.
The next day he went away back to the
Massasoits, from whence he said he came, who are our next bordering neighbors.
They are sixty strong, as he saith. The Nausets are as near southeast of them,
and are a hundred strong, and those were they of whom our people were
encountered, as before related. They are much incensed and provoked against the
English, and about eight months ago slew three Englishmen, and two more hardly
escaped by flight to Monchiggon; they were Sir Ferdinando Gorges his men, as
this savage told us, as he did likewise of the huggery, that is, fight, that
our discoverers had with the Nausets, and of our tools that were taken out of
the woods, which we willed him should be brought again, otherwise, we would
right ourselves. These people are ill affected towards the English, by reason
of one Hunt, a master of a ship, who deceived the people, and got them under
color of trucking with them, twenty out of this very place where we inhabit,
and seven men from Nauset, and carried them away, and sold them for slaves like
a wretched man (for twenty pound a man) that cares not what mischief he doth
for his profit.
Saturday, in the morning we dismissed
the savage, and gave him a knife, a bracelet, and a ring; he promised within a
night or two to come again, and to bring with him some of the Massasoits, our
neighbors, with such beavers' skins as they had to truck with us.
There you have it. Although somewhat peevishly annoyed Samoset’s brief visit provided the settlers with
a world of intelligence about the disposition, numbers, and mood of the
tribes in their immediate area, information that they may only have gained at
great cost of lives and peril, especially because it allowed them to differentiate between “friendly” and hostile natives.
Even better, true to his word, a few
days later Samoset returned bringing
with him a delegation including Squanto,
who spoke even better English. Squanto,
a Pawtuxet had been kidnapped
with others by a lieutenant of John
Smith, and taken to Spain in
1614 to be sold as a slave in Spain. Instead he was given refuge by Spanish Friars
who instructed him in Christianity and
allowed him to go to England in search of passage back to his home. Squanto lived for some years in London and learned excellent English
before securing passage back home in 1619.
Squanto
discovered that his village, the very one occupying
the site of New Plymouth, was
virtually wiped out by a plague, possibly small pox. He was now living
with his kinsmen in Massasoit’s
band. Despite his bitter experience,
he was not totally hostile to the English, although suspicious of
them. Perhaps, having seen London, he
was keenly aware of how plentiful they were and how resistance
to them might be futile.
At any rate Squanto and Samoset helped open up talks, mostly centered on
trading for furs, with the settlers.
When he could ascertain that the talks were friendly, Massasoit himself
finally entered the village. The two
sides concluded a treaty of peace and trade and pledged a military
alliance against tribes hostile to one or both.
Samoset soon returned to his people in Maine. In 1624 Captain
Christopher Levett, a Yorkshire fisherman entertained Samoset and members of his band on
his boat. After that the man who made
first contact with the strangers on the shore, faded into the mists of history.
Squanto, out of attachment to the
place of his former village and at the behest of Massasoit, who did not fully
trust the English, remained at the village and lived there, famously imparting
his life saving advice on farming techniques suitable for the stony soil and sharing secret fishing spots and oyster shoals. He also
served as a guide and an envoy to surrounding tribes.
The next year he was taken captive
by a Wampanoag band under the Sachem Corbitant and had to be rescued by an armed party led by
Captain Standish. In 1622 he fell ill of fever while on a mission from the settlers and died in a Nauset village near present-day Chatham.
In his dying words, he wished his English friends well, bequeathed them his few possessions, and expressed hope that
their God would have mercy on them. William Bradford reported, “His death was a
great loss.”
The peace that
the two English speaking natives helped secure lasted for 50 years until the
bloody King Philip’s War in 1675
when Massasoit’s son rose up against the repeated
land grabs of the burgeoning settler colonies of Plymouth and Massachusetts Bay. Losses were heavy and atrocities were
committed by all sides, but
ultimately the friendly tribe that had saved the people we call the Pilgrims
was virtually wiped out.
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