Historical fiction; King Philip's War, 1675-1676 -- Fiction; War stories
"And when a man of a pale skin hath gone up in the fire, can he again
walk upon earth? Is the river between this clearing and the pleasant
fields of a Yengeese so narrow, that the just men can step across it when
they please?"
"This is the conceit of one wallowing in the slough of heathenish
abominations! Child of ignorance! know that the barriers which separate
heaven from earth are impassable; for what purified being could endure the
wickedness of the flesh?"
"This is a lie of the false Pale-faces," said the wily Philip; "it is told
that the Indian might not learn their cunning, and become stronger than a
Yengeese. My father, and those with him, were once burnt in this lodge,
and now he standeth here, ready to take the tomahawk!"
"To be angered at this blasphemy, would ill denote the pity that I feel,"
said Mark, more excited at the charge of necromancy, than he was willing
to own; "and yet to-suffer so fatal an error to spread among these deluded
victims of Satan, would be neglect of duty. Thou hast heard some legend of
thy wild people, man of the Wampanoags, which may heap double perdition on
thy soul, lest thou shouldst happily be rescued from the fangs of the
deceiver. It is true, that I and mine were in exceeding jeopardy in this
tower, and that to the eyes of men without we seemed melted with the heat
of the flames; but the Lord put it into our spirits to seek refuge whither
fire could not come. The well was made the instrument of our safety, for
the fulfilment of his own inscrutable designs."
Notwithstanding the long practised and exceeding subtlety of the
listeners, they heard this simple explanation of that which they had
deemed a miracle, with a wonder that could not readily be concealed.
Delight at the excellence of the artifice was evidently the first and
common emotion of them both; nor would they yield implicit faith, until
assured, beyond a doubt, that what they heard was true. The little iron
door, which had permitted access to the well, for the ordinary domestic
purposes of the family, was still there; and it was only after each had
cast a look down the deep shaft, that he appeared satisfied of the
practicability of the deed. Then a look of triumph gleamed in the swarthy
visage of Philip, while the features of his associate expressed equally
his satisfaction and his regret. They walked apart, musing on what they
had just seen and heard; and when they spoke, it was again in the language
of their people.
"My son hath a tongue that cannot lie," observed Metacom, in a soothing,
flattering accent. "What he hath seen, he tells; and what he tells, is
true. Conanchet is not a boy, but a chief whose wisdom is gray, while his
limbs are young. Now, why shall not his people take the scalps of these
Yengeese, that they may never go any more into holes in the earth, like
cunning foxes?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account