Read Ebook: The New England Magazine Volume 1 No. 5 Bay State Monthly Volume 4 No. 5 May 1886 by Various

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We hope that you will have a joyful time, Meet hosts of friends, and sit at many a feast; And when, with all your wit and all your rhyme, You once are back in this your native clime, Don't ask to sail again off to the East For--well, for five times fifty years at least.

A ROMANCE OF KING PHILIP'S WAR.

BY FANNY BULLOCK WORKMAN.

Upon the tenth night after the meeting with the captain quiet reigned at the Indian camp, where all slumbered except Millicent, to whom, in her anxiety, sleep was denied. She sat meditating upon recent events, her bosom stirred with the hope of speedy deliverance, and fear lest untoward circumstances should prevent the captain from executing his plan for her rescue. After a time her attention was attracted by peculiar sounds breaking upon the stillness of the night. These, at first faint and distant, gradually grew nearer and louder, till, trembling, she recognized the yells of the savages, who were returning through the woods rejoicing over the atrocities they had committed. She aroused the women to prepare for the wanderers, who, bounding like deer through the forest, soon burst into the clearing and threw themselves on the ground in front of the wigwam, calling upon the women for food and drink. In order to help the squaws provide for their impatient lords Millicent offered to carry out some provisions. As she appeared the warriors greeted her with a shout, calling her Philip's pretty maid. She did not reply, but moved about silently among them, horrified at their revolting account of an attack upon a lone country-house, where, having murdered the inmates, they had possessed themselves of all of value in the house. Exultingly they told their tale of horror, their painted faces and blood-stained garments looking ghastly in the moonlight. One man threw an ornament, torn from the person of a white woman, to his squaw, who had brought his supper; and another, with a fiendish laugh, tossed a scalp to Millicent, calling out in coarse tones, "Here little white-skin, take that for a remembrance of your race."

With loathing she crept back to her tent, and, stopping her ears, tried to keep out the sound of their diabolical cries.

Toward morning the noise ceased, as they, weary with carousing, one after another, fell into a heavy slumber. Allured by the silence, Millicent slipped out into the forest to quiet her aching brow in the fresh morning air. What if the English should come now, when these warriors are all at home? Would they be prepared for the fierce resistance they would encounter, she murmured, and, lost in thought, gazed mournfully at the waters of the lake, cold and gray in the early daylight. Suddenly she was startled by the tall form of Ninigret appearing like a phantom at her side.

"I have come to join you in your morning walk, Millicent," he said, with meaning in his dark eyes, as he watched her narrowly.

"You need not have come; I prefer to be alone," she answered, drawing herself up haughtily.

"I know you do; but you are out early, and need a protector."

A look of disgust swept over her face as he spoke the word protector. As if comprehending the expression, he said, hurriedly:--

"Have you considered what I said to you? Have you had enough of this life, and are you ready to come with me?"

"No, never! I would rather die at the hands of the warriors up there"--but the words died on her lips, for, as she spoke, the sounds of fire-arms reached their ears, mingled with the war-cry of the half-aroused Indians. With an exclamation of joy Millicent started in the direction of the firing, but had advanced but a step before the lithe Indian had her in his grasp.

"You shall not escape me now. Resign yourself. The white men have found the camp, but they will not rescue you. Dare to utter a cry, and I will kill you," he added, brandishing a gleaming knife before her eyes.

Terrified at this menace she allowed herself to be dragged unresistingly into the forest.

Immediately after his interview with Millicent Captain Merwin returned to Boston to secure the force necessary to his purpose. This required some days, during which he found himself becoming very restless. The story of the fair captive had strongly excited his sympathy, and her sweet face had made a deep impression upon his imagination, and he longed, with an impatience he could hardly control, to be again by her side. He was also fearful lest harm should befall her during his absence.

All this gave him a stimulus to action, and caused him to use every endeavor to prepare for his undertaking. When everything was at last ready he departed with all possible despatch.

In the evening after leaving Boston, as the English approached Lake Quinsigamond, when more than a mile from the Indian head-quarters, they heard the shouting of the warriors above described.

Merwin commanded his men to conceal themselves in a thicket in the dense wood, whence they could observe the Indians as they passed. He found they considerably outnumbered his own force. As they evidently had no suspicion of the presence of an enemy, he determined to follow them cautiously, wait until weary with revelling they should fall asleep, and then surprise them after their own mode of warfare. He deployed his men, and held them in readiness. Toward day dawn, when the Indians had sunk into a profound slumber, he ordered the attack.

The English advanced stealthily, and were almost in the camp before they were discovered by the sentinel, who gave the alarm.

This came too late. The English rushed forward with cheers, and were among the surprised Indians before they were fairly awake. The latter hurriedly seized their weapons and made what resistance they could; but this was ineffectual. The struggle was sharp and brief. Many of the best warriors were soon killed, and the rest fled precipitately, following the women and children who escaped into the woods when the combat began.

Merwin, as soon as he saw that his men were fairly engaged with the Indians, called a few trusty fellows, and went in search of Millicent. Not finding her at the wigwam, he plunged into the wood, following luckily the path taken by Ninigret.

After dragging the girl ruthlessly with him, until she fainted with fright, Ninigret laid her on the ground for a moment, in order to arrange his weapons, so that he might bear her away in his arms. While doing this he espied Merwin advancing, and, taking hasty aim at him with his musket, fired. The ball missed its mark and struck one of Merwin's companions. As the Indian bounded off Merwin raised his rifle and fired in return, with deadly effect. Ninigret, leaping high in the air, fell dead, pierced through the heart. The English bore his body a short distance into the forest, and, leaving it to such a burial as nature might grant, hurried back to Millicent, who still lay in a swoon. They then carried her to the scene of battle and placed her in one of the wigwams lately occupied by the Indians.

For a week Capt. Merwin and his men remained in the vicinity to intercept any band of Indians that might be passing westward. Merwin, although often away upon scouting expeditions, found ample time to improve his acquaintance with his rescued charge, in whom he was fast becoming deeply interested. It was the evening before their departure for Boston. The air was soft and laden with the fragrance of flowers; the lake, its surface unruffled by a ripple, lay spread like a great mirror, reflecting the lustre of the full moon. Two persons stood near the water's edge contemplating the beauty of the scene. The quiet harmony of nature seemed to possess their souls, and for a time neither spoke. Millicent was the first to break the silence.

"What serenity after the strife of last week!"

"It is, indeed, a contrast this night. Let us sit here awhile and enjoy its beauty," said Merwin; and, assisting Millicent to a seat upon the trunk of a fallen tree, he placed himself at her feet.

"How strange it all seems! Here I am in the forest, as I was a week ago, yet under such different circumstances,--free from my enemies and surrounded by only friends."

"And another week will change your surroundings entirely; and the new friends made now will, like the Indians, be present but in memory. You know to-morrow we are to leave here."

"I can hardly realize it. Ah, Captain Merwin! can it be that I shall so soon leave Wigwam Hill, the scene of my trying life of captivity, behind me?"

"Yes; by to-morrow at this time, I trust, you will be far from this spot where you have suffered so much. This beautiful lake will always recall unpleasant associations to your mind, I fear, while to mine it will recall some of the pleasantest hours of my life."

"No; I, too, shall have pleasant recollections of these shores. The memory of your noble kindness to me will not be effaced. But tell me, where do we go then?" Millicent asked, rather seriously.

"It cannot matter to you where I and my men go; but you I hope to take to your sister."

"To Martha, Captain Merwin? Is my dear sister then alive? Is there no doubt of it?"

"None."

"Is it possible? What happiness!" breathed Millicent, with tears in her eyes. "I cannot believe it. I cannot believe that I shall again see my dear sister, whom I have so long supposed dead. How did you know she was alive; and why have you not told me this before?"

"Because I wished to surprise you just before our departure. You will not deprive me of that last pleasure, would you?" asked the captain in a low voice, smiling faintly. "I made all possible inquiry when in Boston, and, just as about to depart with the troops, received accurate news of her whereabouts."

"I see; and so she is safe, and we shall meet before many days. Where is she, please?" asked Millicent, smiling divinely upon Merwin.

Drinking in the sweetness of the smile the captain gave her an account of her sister's fortune, and of her surroundings.

"The Stantons, with whom she is, are friends of mine," he observed, rather gloomily.

"Ah, indeed; then it will be a pleasant meeting all around!" and she clapped her hands with joy. Then, noticing the captain's gravity, she said, "Why are you so sad, Captain Merwin?"

"Oh, I don't know. I did not mean to be," and he tried to smile. "Yes, I think I do appear rather glum,--don't mind the word, it is so expressive of my feelings. You see, this last week has been so pleasant, we have become such good friends, and learned to know each other's tastes so well, and I have enjoyed so intensely giving you your freedom and sharing it with you, that the thought that it must all end, that I must take you back to interests which I can know nothing of and have no share in, is just a little hard to bear at present. You will think me selfish; forgive me, I did not mean to mention it, but you asked me."

She held out her hand to him and said, "You are my trusted friend, and will be my sister's when she knows what you have done for me; so do not say you will have no share in our interests."

"You are very kind," he replied, pressing her hand tightly in his, then dropping it suddenly.

"Captain Merwin," said Millicent, in turn looking grave, "the past year I have lived in an atmosphere of treachery and revenge; the minds of those with whom I have been associated were filled with anything but Christian thoughts. Unkindness and ill-feeling have found a fertile soil upon which to thrive in their hearts; but deep in my own I ever kept a spot green, where the plant of gratitude could again grow should the occasion offer. It did offer. The seeds were sown by a kind and generous hand; the plant grew quickly, and to-day it blossomed in full. Deeply grateful for what you have done for me, I beg you to accept its flowers." And, with tears in her eyes, she held toward him a small exquisitely selected bunch of fragrant white azalias.

Taking the blossoms tenderly he lifted them to his lips. "What a pretty idea! Who but you would have thought of rewarding a common deed of kindness so sweetly? I shall cherish these flowers, they are so like you. Did you really pick them for me?"

"Yes, and selected them out of many. It was all I had. If ever I can reward you better tell me, for I would willingly do you any favor to pay the debt of gratitude I owe you. I assure you I feel my obligation deeply," said Millicent, blushing.

"There is a reward you could give me now; but I scarcely dare ask it, for I know it to be more than I deserve." And the captain gazed at Millicent with a look that brought a bright blush to the young girl's cheek.

"Perhaps it is not," she replied, hesitatingly. "I don't think I understand you."

"Well, then, Millicent,--may I call you that?--the drawing-room term of Miss does not suit our simple life here." And, as she nodded assent, he continued, "Will you answer a question, even a hard one?"

"I will try."

"Tell me, then, if ever in the heart where the plant of gratitude grew another far sweeter flower has grown?"

"That of friendship do you mean?"

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