This last muttered ejaculation was elicited by observing that
as the meal drew near its close, several of the party produced
from their pouches certain round flasks, of comfortable dimensions,
which they passed about among each other, occasionally
diluting their potations with draughts of water, with which one
of the iron head-pieces had been filled from a spring near the
house. Morton was briefly invited to partake of this refreshment,
and not to appear singular, and to avoid exciting suspicion,
he complied, although he prudently refrained from doing more
than moisten his lips. Pipes and tobacco were now produced,
and upon the whole the party began to assume, in the eyes of
Morton, a more favorable aspect. The silence was at last broken
by the elderly person who had held forth before supper, and
who, after Standish, seemed the most considerable person of the
party.

“What thinkest thou, brother Standish, of the result of Isaac
Allerton's recent voyage to England?” said he. “I have had
small opportunity to confer with him since his late return, but
methinks two hundred pounds at thirty per cent. is no such
mighty negotiation.”

“Truly I am, as thou well knowest,” answered Standish,
somewhat testily, — for he had, himself, not many years before,
been sent upon a financial mission to England, the result of
which, as the honest soldier was but little skilled in money matters,
was the procurement of one hundred and fifty pounds, for the
use of the colonies, at the moderate interest of fifty per cent. —
“truly I am, as hath been sufficiently proven, but a child in mercantile
matters, nor, if the truth were known, do I care to increase
my skill, seeing that my profession and natural temper do
but slightly fit me for such pursuits. I was born and bred a
soldier, Master Neegoose, and am perhaps better fitted to deal
with a bear or a Pokanoket savage than a money-changer, whom
I take to be a more dangerous animal than either. As for Isaac

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

Allerton, truly I believe that what man could accomplish, he hath
done. Thou well knowest, that early after our arrival at New
Plymouth he accompanied me, alone, and of his own free will,
to the abode of Massassoit, and I will say that it required no small
amount of bravery on the part of one like Master Allerton, not
bred to arms, thus voluntarily to venture, as it were, into the
lion's mouth, for nothing was known, at that moment, of the
temper and disposition of the red-skins.”

“Most true, brother Standish,” answered Neegoose, “I entertain
no doubt of Master Isaac's courage, but even as thou hast
thyself but just observed, other qualifications may be necessary
to bring about a negotiation of lucre to a hopeful termination—”

“Well, well, Master Neegoose,” interrupted Standish, who
was not much more of a logician than a financier, and who had
no inclination to pursue the topic — “the negotiations of Master
Allerton have doubtless been as successful as my own, and I
have small cause to cavil at his proceedings. As for me, so far
as concerneth my own agency in England, the colony would
have suffered but little loss, had the Turkish corsair, which ran
away with the ship which accompanied my own, even taken
possession of my unworthy person also, or had the plague, which
devoured forty thousand wretches in London during the year of
my visit, even swallowed me likewise. So I say again, far be it
from me to censure too severely the course of Isaac Allerton.”

“Ah, brother Standish,” answered Master Neegoose, “we
well know the dangers both of flood and field, which threatened
thee during thy voyage, and at London. Well do I remember
the lamentations which were loud upon our tongues, when we
heard of the fearful pestilence walking by noon-day, to which
thy valuable life was exposed. Truly, most thankful were we to
the Lord at thy escape, and most devoutly did we sing praises
to the God of Jacob that he did deliver our blessed

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

turtle-dove from the multitude of dangers which compassed him
around.”

The small but truculent Miles Standish certainly bore little
resemblance to a turtle-dove, but this happening to be the
only scriptural quotation which the worthy Neegoose had on
hand at the moment, he was obliged to content himself therewith.
Having found, moreover, that his worthy captain was
not particularly inclined to discuss and criticise the result of
Master Allerton's embassy, which was at the moment the latest
topic of interest at New Plymouth, he proceeded to discourse
somewhat at length upon the probability of the same gentleman's
being able to procure a patent from the company in England,
for the territory which the colony then occupied without permission
of the owners.

“I am no lawyer,” answered Standish, after listening to a
long and somewhat confused harangue upon this topic, from
the worthy, but somewhat prosy Abraham Neegoose, “but I
will venture to pronounce this opinion, that neither Master
Allerton, nor any other agent of the colony, is likely to find a
patent for our territory, unless he carry a golden key with him,
to unlock the cabinet where they keep such matters in England.
Small difficulty hath been found by Sir Henry Rosewell, Sir
Richard Saltonstall, and other wealthy and influential knights
and gentlemen of the Massachusetts colony, in procuring their
patent, and the first ships are even now upon the way. But
we of New Plymouth are weak and poor, and must even bide
patiently for a season.”

“Aye,” answered Master Neegoose, “we are as yet but a
handful of corn in the earth upon the top of a mountain, but the
fruit thereof shall shake Lebanon. Still it may be that we shall
be overshadowed by the new colonists who are speeding hither.
'T is a pleasant country the Massachusetts, and I could wish
we had ourselves been seated there.”

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

The comforting fluid had during this conversation been circulating
decorously, but freely, and Morton, observing that the
rigidity of the company had somewhat thawed, drew nearer, and
appeared attentive to the conversation, by which he was apparently
much edified. Thankfully accepting the flask which was
again handed to him by one of the company, he raised it to his
lips, and bowing politely to brother Neegoose, he remarked, —

“Hunc scyphum tibi propino, which in the vernacular,”
added he, upon observing the grim stare with which that respectable
individual received this outlandish address, “is, I
drink to your very good health, worthy Master Neegoose, and a
pleasant ending to an acquaintance so auspiciously begun.”

“Firstly,” answered the worthy corporal Neegoose, for such
was his rank in the little army of Plymouth, “firstly, I do hold
the drinking of healths to be a profane and unnecessary invocation;
secondly, I entertain doubts whether it be lawful for an
unregenerate man even to pray in company with the elect, and
I feel a conviction that it is unlawful for him to drink in their
company; thirdly, thy whole character and proceedings are distasteful
to me, and that thou mayest be sure I have small cause
to affect thy society, know that the worthy and pious Faint-not
Mellows, whom upon a recent occasion thou diddest so sorely
maltreat, is brother unto my wife, and this being the case, thou
mayest suppose that I, even I, am somewhat inclined to resent
his wrongs.”

“Whew — ” whistled Morton to himself, at this agreeable
piece of information, “I have indeed treed the wrong
bear, and had I possessed the smallest suspicion of thy distinguished
matrimonial relationship, I would have seen thee
damned ere I meddled with thy most grisly saintship. Master
Neegoose,” continued he aloud, “touching the third head of
thy discourse, and waiving the two preceding as likely to lead
us into longer argument than may be desirable at this time and

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

tide, I would even beg leave to inform thee that the worthy and
pious Faint-not Mellowes, as you very properly term him, hath
received no injury at hands of mine. True he was somewhat
disconcerted at the rude gambols of certain waggish retainers of
mine, but they meant no mischief, and I have checked and
corrected them therefor, and they repent. This leads me once
more respectfully to inquire,” continued he, turning abruptly to
Captain Standish, who, without paying much heed to the conversation
between the prisoner and the corporal, was solacing
himself with a quiet pipe of tobacco in a corner of the room,
“why I have been tied thus by the loins like a monkey, and
forcibly haled hither like a colt to a fair, in manner and form
altogether derogatory to my dignity, and prejudicial to my comfort?
In short, of what crime, or misdemeanor, am I accused,
and by what authority am I thus deprived of my liberty?”

“By the authority of the Governor and Company of New Plymouth,”
answered Standish, drily, without taking his pipe from
his mouth.

“I know no such governor nor any such company,” returned
the prisoner.

“Thou art likely soon to become better acquainted with
them,” answered the captain, “as I purpose to present thee to
them within four and twenty hours.”

“Aye,” persisted Morton, “but the Governor and Company
of New Plymouth have neither patent for the land which they
themselves wrongfully occupy, nor royal charter for exercising
jurisdiction in any part of New England, or any other portion
of the universe. How dare they then intermeddle with a
peaceful settler, far removed from their plantation, and forcibly
deprive him of his liberty?”

“I am no pettifogger,” answered Standish, “and meddle not
with matters not pertaining to my profession. If thou art
inclined to argument, my life for it, thou shalt hear reasoning

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

enow from the worthy magistrates themselves, therefore I
counsel thee not to waste thy wisdom and thy wit upon me,
but to reserve them till they be wanted.”

“And I counsel thee,” continued Morton, somewhat nettled
at the cool and contemptuous manner of his captor, “and I
counsel thee to think twice ere thou carriest out, to its consummation,
the foul conspiracy in which thou art engaged.”

“And I tell thee, Master Mischief-maker,” answered Standish,
“that I have seized thy body, because to that effect were the
company's orders. If they had ordered me to bring thy head
simply, I should have brought thy head, by which proceeding I
should have been spared much trouble, besides the necessity of
listening to thy tedious and irrelevant discourse.”

“Here's an arbitrary giant,” muttered Morton to himself,
“here's a most hot-headed and hyperbolical Hop-of-my-thumb.
A man's argument against his own kidnapping is tedious and
irrelevant forsooth, and I suppose if the tiny little devil had his
knife at my weasand, it would be an impertinent pleonasm upon
my part to strike it away.”

“Master Standish,” continued he aloud, in a very lofty and
dignified tone, “it is by no means my intention to quarrel
personally with you. I do not purpose to undervalue your
strength, your valor, nor even your geometrical height. I am
aware that the renowned Wittewamutt, who derided the smallness
of your stature, was himself made a head shorter for his
insolence. I am aware that you brought home the savage
chieftain's head in your breeches pocket, as a keepsake for
those gentle employers of yours at New Plymouth. I am, however,
well aware also of the motives of this violent assault upon
my personal liberty.”

“Then why, in the name of Satan,” answered the doughty
little hero testily, dashing his pipe upon the earth as he spoke,
“then why, in the name of the foul fiend, hast thou asked me

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

so many questions about it? Being so wise thyself, methinks
thou mightest have spared me the din of thy discourse. How
much longer, I pray thee, will that damnable tongue of thine be
wagging?”

Corporal Neegoose, and the rest of the company looked some-somewhat
shocked at the irreverent expressions used by Miles
Standish in the first ebullition of his wrath. Being, however,
not altogether unused to such demonstrations upon the part of
their commander, who was not famous either for moderation of
temper, or for puritanic daintiness of language, they looked
composedly on, as the choleric soldier strode up and down the
small apartment, with his long sword clanking after him at every
step, and vented his indignation in a few abrupt sentences.

“How long am I to be pestered with thy insolence?” said he.
“Is it not enough that I must be troubled with thy entertainment
and transportation to Plymouth, but thou must weary mine ears
also with thy endless prating? How long, I demand again, wilt
thou continue to wag that accursed tongue of thine?”

“In sooth,” answered the imperturbable Morton, who rather
enjoyed the ill humor of his antagonist, — “in sooth if I wag
my tongue, Master Standish, 'tis because I have nothing else
to wag. Stood we foot to foott together upon the outside of
this dungeon where thou now holdest me cribbed and pent, and
were I equipped with a blade as trusty as thine own, perhaps
thou mightest find me apt to wag other weapons than my
tongue.”

At this magnificent effusion of heroism on the part of Morton
who would, perhaps, have been somewhat disconcerted at being
taken at his word, the wrath of the hot-tempered Standish
became quite incontrollable.

“By heaven!” he shouted, as he turned upon his prisoner, like
a tiger, “by heaven! I can hold no longer. This insolence
shall be forthwith dealt with. Though the servant of the pious

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

and peaceable pilgrims, I am, perhaps, more of a soldier than a
saint, and since thou demandest it, insolent braggart, thou shalt
be indeed put to the proof.”

As he uttered these words in a voice of thunder, still raging
up and down the little room, he made a sudden dart at the pile
of arms upon the centre of the floor, apparently with the intention
of ferreting out a sword for the express behoof of the Lord
of Merry-Mount.

That worthy looked a little uncomfortable, as he saw the
effect produced by his last sarcasm, but was soon relieved from
what might have proved an embarrassing position, by the worthy
Neegoose, who now thought it necessary to interfere, to prevent
this singular scene from being continued any farther.

“What ails thee? valiant brother Standish,” said he advancing
with great solemnity of voice and manner, and endeavoring
to calm the impetuosity of Standish, who was pacing about with
great vehemence — “`What ails ye, ye mountains, that ye skip
like rams, and ye little hills, like lambs?' Why art thou so
sorely vexed at the idle and vain buffoonery of him who is little
better than as one of the wicked. Bethink thee of thy own
position, of thine own character, and the dignity of the grave
and reverend magistrates. Forego thy rash intention, and let
not the child of Belial gain advantage over us. I pray thee
conduct thyself rather like a calm and skilful commander than
as a hot-brained man of wrath.”

“Truly, Master Neegoose, I believe thou art right,” answered
Standish, whose wrath was beginning to cool again, almost as
suddenly as it had waxed hot, as he reflected upon the absurdity
of his proceeding, and upon the advantage which he should give
his prisoner, by thus yielding to the dictates of his angry temper.
“Truly, thou art right, and I am an ass, a peppery, uncomfortable
blockhead, thus to be flouted of my humor by the taunts
of a worthless vagabond.” Thus rebuking himself as testily as

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

he had but just now abused his prisoner, the worthy champion
of Plymouth seated himself, by a violent effort, plump upon the
floor again, and lighting a fresh pipe, began to puff so furiously,
that his head was soon enveloped in smoke, and the tempest of
his wrath seemed for a time obscured and overcome by the
clouds compelled from his pipe.

“Well, well,” said Morton, taking up the thread of his discourse,
when he saw that this sudden storm had subsided, and
that the only danger at present to be apprehended from indulging
his license of speech, was merely that the dialogue would prove
a soliloquy — “well, as I before had the honor to observe, I
know well the motives of this assault upon me. The plantation
of Merry-Mount is a trifle too flourishing; the beaver trade is a
trifle too successful. Ye of New Plymouth were but bears' whelps
once, and I feared ye not; but ye have grown to be bears
now, (and very gruff and uncomfortable bears ye are too,) and
would eat up all the cakes and honey-combs to be found in
Canaan. I know the cause of your high-handed proceedings,
and I promise ye the star-chamber shall hear of it before I have
done with ye —.”

“Cease, vain man, from thy idle and frivolous discourse,”
said Corporal Neegoose, who, observing that the commander of
the party only silently puffed at his pipe with redoubled fury
during the continuance of Morton's disjointed abjuration,
thought it necessary to interpose to check the current of the
prisoner's invective. “Let me assure thee, once for all, that
thy conspiracies are all discovered, and it shall go hard but that
the dissolute nest, which thou with vain-glorious folly dost denominate
thy palace at Merry-Mount, shall be soon levelled to
the ground. Crushed shall it be, even like a nest of hornets,
and its idle and licentious brood of tenants scattered to the
angry winds of heaven. `Moab is my washpot, over Edom will
I cast out my shoe, saith the Lord.' I tell thee, Merry-Mount,

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

which should be rather termed Mount Dagon, shall be destroyed,
it and all that therein dwells. Aye, thou Master of
Misrule, even so hath it been ordained.”

“You have spoken,” Corporal Neegoose, answered Morton,
“but whether wisely or not, let the night-owl, whom I hear
screeching just now, decide. As I find, however, that my conversation
is so little relished, I will even address myself to sleep,
and have accordingly the honor to wish rosy dreams and peaceful
slumbers to ye all.”

No one seemed inclined to oppose this resolution on the part
of the prisoner, which, as the night was already well advanced,
seemed on the contrary a very reasonable one. It was arranged
by the commander that Morton should be placed for greater
security in the inner room, and that Corporal Neegoose should
occupy a part of the old bedstead with him, provided the prisoner
should choose to avail himself of that luxurious piece of
furniture.

The Lord of Merry-Mount accordingly took up his quarters in
the interior apartment accompanied by the worthy corporal. The
others, including the valiant captain, disposed themselves according
to their pleasure upon the floor of the outer room, one
of the party stretching himself for additional security across the
outer door.

It was not long before a general concert of discordant and
inharmonious sounds announced that the whole party were fast
asleep, all save the prisoner, who, in his own language, describing
the occurrence afterwards, was as wakeful as the geese
of the capitol. He had, upon first lying down, affected great
drowsiness, and had taken pains to fall very soundly asleep, in
appearance, before the senses of the corporal were steeped in
forgetfulness; so that the simple-minded functionary, who was
especially charged with the safe-keeping of the prisoner, was
completely disarmed of all suspicion, and resigned himself

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

tranquilly to his slumbers almost as soon in reality as Morton had
done in appearance.

Morton lay very quietly for nearly an hour. The night was
already far advanced, and as the days were at the longest, it was
not safe to delay his attempt at escape too long. Much to his
surprise, the weather, so far as he could judge from the faint
glimmering at the window in the other room, seemed tolerably
clear. What had become of the storm which had worn so
threatening an aspect in the afternoon, and which had been so
alarming to the nerves of the subterranean philosopher of
Wessaguscus, did not distinctly appear. Morton had lain there,
reflecting upon a thousand different topics, listening to the discordant
variety of nasal melody which proceeded from the outer
room, and endeavoring to detect the particular organ of the
heroic Standish amid the general concert, till it seemed to him
that he had been lying there since the creation, or at least since
the discovery of America, and he became at last so nervous and
impatient that he felt the moment was come when he must absolutely
arise and make the experiment, or else remain there the
whole night through.

A peal of distant thunder now suddenly broke through the
external silence and confirmed him in his intention. The storm
was, after all, coming on, and a sharp squall, with thunder and
lightning, would be sure to make such a pother about the crazy
tenement that the party would be awakened and kept watchful
for the remainder of the night. He determined to arise, but
there were two difficulties which presented themselves at the
outset. In the first place, the dreaming corporal, in the unconscious
expansiveness of sleep, had wound his arms around Morton's
neck, and it would be difficult to loosen his hold without
awaking him. In the second place, if he was even fortunate
enough to extricate himself successfully from this iron embrace,
he had to make his way in the dark across the floor of the outer

[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

room, which was, to a certain extent, paved with the upturned
faces of his captors. Of course he dared not strike a light, and
to make his way to the door, which, moreover, he knew to be
barricaded with the body of one of the party, without awakening
any one, seemed a very difficult task.

“Truly,” muttered he to himself, “Master Corporal Neegoose,
I could find it in my heart to dispense with these
clinging arms of thine, which, however endearing they may
be to the worthy good wife Neegoose, if such an enviable
female exists, are, just now, most particularly in the way
of your humble servant. By thy leave, then, most evangelical
of corporals,” continued he in an inaudible monotone, as
he daintily and dexterously untwisted the hard knot in which
the corporal had tied his bony arms about his neck, without
awakening him, “by thy permission, I will even leave thee
to thy chaste and solitary slumbers.” Muttering thus, he
groped his way stealthily from the bed as far as the entrance to
the other room, when he paused for a moment upon the threshold,
deliberating how he should proceed. It was so dark that
he could only guide himself by the ear, and he was particularly
anxious not to plant his foot upon the face of the sleeping Standish,
feeling well assured that if that fiery hero should be awakened,
he would, if necessary, stop his further progress with a brace
of bullets, without the smallest hesitation. While he was thus
taking counsel with himself, and wondering how he should be
able to make his way to the outer door without having a more
definite notion of the condition of the floor than he at that moment
possessed, the scene was suddenly illuminated by a flash of
lightning.

Morton readily took advantage of the circumstance and rapidly
examined the appearance of the apartment. The single
glance was almost sufficient to dash his hopes to the earth. The
ground was covered with the prostrate forms of his captors, all of

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

them, however, wrapped in deep slumber, while the redoubtable
leader of the expedition had established himself in a sitting posture
against the door, flanked upon either side by a grim and
substantial man-at-arms. As for the solitary window, it was so
very small, besides being at such a distance from the ground,
that there was not the slightest possibility of retreat in that
direction.

“By Jupiter, these be stubborn impediments,” muttered the
Lord of Merry-Mount, to himself, as he stood in a contemplative
and somewhat discomfited mood upon the threshold of the outer
apartment. “Though this crazy old shell of a fort be not so
strong as London Tower, yet it will do, after all, to hold in
durance vile even as eminent a state criminal as the Prince of
Passanogessit. Truly do I seem like a very reckless old rat who
has allowed himself to be caught in a mouldy trap, but one
which will hold him tightly in spite of his grimaces. I could
take it as a particular and personal favor, now, if the earth
would but open and swallow me up at once.”

There appearing to be no immediate signs of any such catastrophe,
Morton was obliged to bethink himself of some other
means of relief. As the storm was evidently coming on apace,
and as it was likely that the sleepers would soon be startled by
the crash of the elements, he thought he might as well relinquish
his efforts at escape, for the present at least, and he accordingly
was about returning to the embraces of Corporal Neegoose, when
another and still more vivid flash of lightning afforded him
another opportunity of examining the scene of action. At the
instant when the room was thus illuminated, his eyes happened
to be turned towards the ceiling, in which, as will be remembered,
a considerable rent had been made by the falling of the
chimney. He had already rejected the idea of escape through
that aperture, which, although it was larger than the window,

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

and in fact of sufficient dimensions to admit of the passage of
his body with some little compression, was at so hopeless a
height from the floor, as to be altogether out of his reach. At
the moment when the lightning illuminated the gloom around
him, his eyes were accidentally fixed upon the ceiling. Was he
deceived by a too sanguine imagination, or did he really at that
instant behold a means of unexpected and easy escape? Either
a phantom of his brain was deluding his senses, or else he had
seen a rope dangling from the roof, and reaching nearly to the
floor. The flash was past, however, in the same instant, and all
was darkness again.

“Fair and softly,” said he to himself, as he stood pondering
for a moment in the same position which he had retained since
he left his couch, “fair and softly; yonder slender and waving
line, which the lightning hath revealed to me, looked very like a
good honest hempen rope, but it may after all be but the counterfeit
presentiment, the phantasma of a rope. If it should prove
but an airy picture, a fanciful figment of my heated brai, why
truly I fear 't will be of foul augury. A rope, the ghost of a
rope, faugh, this savors too strongly of a certain leafless tree
which bears human fruit. Why, precisely at this moment,
should the fantastic vision of a rope's end present itself? They
lie in their throats, these slanderous Puritans, who seek again to
crush me to the earth with their accusation of foul crimes in
England, of which they know me innocent. They would send
me home, would they, again to be badgered and worried by a
pack of yelling curs? I know the mouths of the blood-thirsty
hell-hounds are slavering at the thought that they are sending
me home to a gibbet. But they lie in their throats, and —.”

As Morton muttered these exclamations with more earnestness
and passion than was usual with him, there came another flash
of lightning, which again revealed to him the appearance of the
mysterious rope. Moving almost as quickly as the flash, and

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

dexterously avoiding, as he dashed forward, the upturned faces
and prostrate forms of his captors, his hand had already securely
clutched the rope before the darkness had again enveloped him.
Giving it a desperate pull with all his might, to ascertain whether
it was a real, substantial cord, capable of sustaining his weight
and assisting him in his escape, or only a spiritual noose to entangle
him in some new and indefinite embarrassment, he soon
decided that it was indeed as honest and material a rope's end
as was ever twisted. Without more ado, and waiting for no
more illumination of any kind, he climbed rapidly and with uncommon
agility to the roof, coiled himself through the narrow
aperture like a serpent, and then crouched for a moment till
another flash should show him the proper means of descending,
without breaking limbs or neck. While he was thus hesitating,
he heard a low, hoarse voice directly below him.

“Hist, hist, Master Morton,” said the voice, “knowest
thou me not?”

“Faith,” answered Morton, “he must have good eyes that
knoweth his oldest friend in such a pitchy atmosphere as this.
Still, if I mistake not, thou shouldst be my subterranean philosopher
of Wessaguscus, he who smelleth the thunder when it is
brewing, even in the bowels of the earth.”

“Thou diddest me a kindness once,” said the voice.

“Exactly so,” answered Morton. “I could have sworn it
was thou. By Jupiter Diespiter, thou hast requited it a thousand-fold,
and if I reward not thy grateful heart, if fortune do but
extricate me from my present dilemma, I wish I might be choked
in the very rope which thy disinterested benevolence hath furnished
me with. Verily, I have not found such gratitude, no,
not in Israel. But, how shall I get down to thee, my fine fellow?”

“Feel for the hickory bough, Master Morton, it will bear thy
weight.”

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

So instructed, Morton groped cautiously about, moving very
gingerly along the crazy roof of the edifice, which, having
been originally constructed for a fort, was unfortunately of a
much greater elevation than most of the rude dwellings of that
day. Feeling that a broken leg or a dislocated ankle would
hardly expedite him in his nocturnal march, Morton conducted
himself so warily, that it was long before he found, at the extremity
of the building, a long hickory branch, extending almost
to the roof-tree. Grasping it, as soon as it was found, and
trusting implicitly to the counsels of his enigmatical friend,
he swung himself boldly out into the darkness. The branch
yielded gently with his weight, and he felt himself descending
till he knew he must be very near the ground. When the branch
would bend no more, he relinquished his hold, and dropped
easily upon the ground.

As soon as he found himself fairly out of his prison, he cast a
rapid and anxious glance around him. The darkness was not
so intense as it had first appeared, or else there was something
of the extraordinary and preternatural light returning, which
had so strongly arrested his attention upon the previous evening.
At any rate, the outlines of the landscape, the dusky
figure of the dismantled fort, the dim and portentous forms of
the gigantic trees, were visible, and he even fancied that he saw
the faint and shadowy appearance of his mysterious friend
creeping stealthily out from beneath the shadow of the hickory.

“Hillo, hillo, sweet philosopher,” said he in a shrill whisper,
“is that thine own worthy self, which I behold stealing from the
bushes?”

“I am glad you have escaped from the mighty man of wrath,”
said the other, creeping close up to him; “pray Heaven, the
plague be not let loose for this.”

“Poh, poh, a fico for the plague,” answered Morton, gaily;
“and now listen to me, my good fellow. If I do not warmly

[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

urge thee to accompany me this night to our poor palace of
Merry-Mount, 't is because I am somewhat out of suits with
fortune, myself, just now, and because my patronage would be
like to prove but a small blessing, seeing that although I have,
by thy most opportune assistance, eluded the grasp of my
pursuers this night, I may yet momentarily expect that the
attack will be renewed upon me, even in my stronghold. Thou
wilt return to thy subterranean receptacle, that is to say, thou
wilt burrow in thy hole again this night, I suppose.”

“I shall go back to my den,” answered the other, shuddering,
“but alas! Abamoko is fearful, my flesh will be torn with red-hot
pincers. Did not I tell you that I smelt the thunder
coming?”

“Well, no matter about Abamoko and his pincers just now,”
replied Morton; “I must be off, and that speedily, but before I go,
let me say thus much. These matters will blow over ere long,
at least I hope so, and then, if thou wilt but accept my offer, I
promise thee a place of honor and profit at Merry-Mount, to be
followed up by still more substantial favor, when certain projects,
which the wise ones wot of, shall have ripened into fulfilment.
In the mean time, and as an earnest of my good intentions, take
this, my fine fellow. We have not yet discovered a gold mine at
Passanogessit, nor hast thou, with all thy thunder-smelling propensities,
discovered the philosopher's stone, or I am mistaken.
Therefore, take these few poor pieces, and come to me when the
storm is over. Good-night my good fellow, I have a longer
tramp before me than thou hast, and the nights be short.”

So saying, Morton slipped a few pieces of money, the only
ones which he had with him, into his companion's hand. The
philosopher received them mechanically, and stood stock-still
for an instant. Suddenly, as he jingled the pieces, a thought
seemed to electrify him. He uttered a shrill laugh, jumped
high into the air, and clapped his hands in a paroxysm of

[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

delight, quite extraordinary and wholly unwarranted by the circumstances.

“Ho, ho, ho,” he cried; “ho, ho, ho, solid silver! crosses of
solid silver. No more digging, no more pinching, no more hot
irons. Ho, ho, ho! a fig for Abamoko!”

With this highly intelligible ebullition of triumph and gratitude,
which was certainly not justified by the magnitude of the
present which he received, the wild man again sprang high in
the air, and then dashed off at full speed into the darkness.
The shrill wizard laugh was wafted fitfully back from the gloom
which had suddenly, as it were, ingulphed him, and was caught
up by the echoing hills and reverberated through the mirky and
savage silence, till it seemed to Morton as if a thousand invisible
demons of the wilderness were mocking him in the darkness.
Suddenly there was a stir in the fort. Morton, who had only
advanced a few rods in the opposite direction from that in which
his mysterious friend had disappeared, crouched under a tree,
and strained his eyes anxiously through the darkness. There
was a confused and noisy trampling in the house. Suddenly a
light was struck. At the same instant, a gun was discharged at
a little distance from the house, then another, and another.
Then through the light, which streamed from the solitary
window, Morton could distinctly perceive the forms of his late
captors issuing from the house, and rushing madly with many
confused and angry cries, in the direction of the fugitive. He
had evidently been heard and seen in his moment of triumph,
and had as plainly been mistaken for Morton himself. Shot
after shot was fired, but without success, for, after the last
discharge had died upon his ear, he still heard, above all other
sounds, the ringing, wizard laugh, sounding more and more
faintly in the distance, and repeated by the echoes in still more
ghostlike and fantastic tones — Ho, ho, ho!

p285-290 CHAPTER III. THE HURRICANE.

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

This accidental diversion in Morton's favor was fortunate.
The pursuers, having started off in the darkness upon a wrong
scent, would hardly discover their mistake in time to molest him
during the next few hours. He accordingly hoped to gain sufficient
time to enable him to reach Merry-Mount and fortify himself
there, before the enemy should besiege his stronghold. He
was at that moment some eight or ten miles distant from his
home, because it was necessary for him to go considerably about,
to cross the head of the Monatoquit River, which separated the
plantation of Wessaguscus from that of Passanogessit. He stood
upon the edge of the plain, and was just starting upon his tramp
through the forest, when his attention was arrested by the extraordinary
appearance of the atmosphere.

We have already noticed the singular illumination of the
heavens a little after sunset. This remarkable brilliancy had
now returned at the dead of night, and a large portion of the
upper sky was covered with yellowish vapor, which emitted a
wild and sickly glare, contrasting strangely with the pitchy
darkness which had for the last hour or two enveloped the
scene. The thunder still rolled, and the lightning flashed at
intervals, but not a drop of rain fell from the clouds, and it
seemed as if the parched and arid earth had absorbed so much
of the fierce sunshine which had prevailed for many days, that it
repelled and dissipated the gathering moisture in the clouds.

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

Whether the storm had spent its fury in other directions, or
whether it was still brooding and impending in the distance,
seemed doubtful; but there was something in the calm and lurid
atmosphere, something nameless and indefinable, which inspired
sensations of awe. It was so death-like a calm, that not a single
leaf quivered upon the poplars. The crackling of a dried twig,
under Morton's foot, sounded like the report of a fire-arm. He
still stood upon the plain which we have described, upon which
grew here and there several gigantic oaks and chestnuts, and
had advanced nearly to the edge of the forest which surrounded
the clearing. He had paused, bewildered by the extraordinary
light which had so suddenly returned. He was at first inclined
to believe that the woods had taken fire, but there was neither
smoke nor any other indication of such an event. Moreover, the
total disappearance of the phenomenon for some hours, with its
sudden and startling recurrence, both forbade the idea of a conflagration.
Suddenly the breathless silence was broken by a
distant, rushing sound, as if the air were swept by myriads of
invisible wings. The volume of sound increased fearfully every
second, and now the forest roared as if the ocean had burst its
bounds, and were sweeping over the land. The unnatural light
glared still more fitfully upon the scene, and as the hardy Morton
looked with terrified eyes around, he saw the mighty wood
fluttering, writhing and tossing its myriad arms madly for a
moment. In that single moment, ten thousand trees were
whirled from their roots, and dashed to the earth, before his eyes.
There was a short, wild crash, as these forest giants, which had
braved the storms of centuries, fell before the furious blast, and
at the next instant, the whole forest bent flat to the earth, like a
field of waving grass, as the hurricane careered over it in its
majesty. The thunder-cloud, which had so long delayed its
coming, now sailed up from its resting-place with fearful velocity,
obscuring with its black wings the preternatural glare, and then

[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

descended with sudden swoop upon the earth. The rain fell in
floods, the inky blackness of the air was pierced incessantly by
the arrowy lightning. The thunder crashed above and around in
one unbroken roar. No breathless interval between the flash and
the bolt, whispered of any slight removal of the dreadful artillery
of heaven. The rattling thunder rode upon the lightning's
wings. Peal followed flash, and flash succeeded peal, in ceaseless
and fearful succession.

At the instant of the hurricane, Morton had thrown himself
flat upon the earth. As he prostrated himself, he saw a solitary
and gigantic chestnut tree, which stood near him upon the plain,
flying through the air like a feather, its ponderous trunk snapped
like a last year's reed. The next instant a thunderbolt shivered
a mighty oak which stood by itself within ten yards of him, and
during the breathless moments which succeeded, as he lay with
his face upon the ground, the rain pouring like a cataract, it
seemed as if the earth must be powerless to absorb the thunder-bolts,
which fell incessantly around him.

How long he lay in this condition, he knew not. The moments
seemed ages, in that fearful convulsion of the elements;
but the summer tempest was soon over. The hurricane was brief
as it had been terrific, and it was soon extinguished, as it were,
by the floods of rain, which were still falling.

In half an hour, the violence of the storm had abated. The
lightning still glared, and the thunder rolled in the distance,
but the clouds were broken, and a star or two glimmered faintly
through the rifts of the tempest. Morton aroused himself at last
from his recumbent position, and looked ruefully around. The
storm had subsided, but the night was dark, and his journey was
likely to be obstructed by the multitudes of fallen trees.

“Well, well,” said he to himself, “the elemental pother is
over, and, as far as I can judge, am I neither blown into the sea,

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

nor blasted by lightning, nor ignobly drowned in a puddle, which
seemed latterly most like to be my fate.


`Jupiter Diespiter!
Igni corusco nubila dividens!'
Ah Flaccus, Flaccus! what boots it that I strive to soothe my
ear with the limpid gurgling of thy verse, when the howling
hurricane and the wrathful Shrimp, both raging through the
gloomy forests, have filled my soul with discord? Farewell, Flaccus,
for the present, and farewell, ye bowers of Wessaguscus!”
With this the undaunted Morton set forth resolutely upon his
journey. The atmosphere grew lighter as he advanced, and
revealed to him the ravages of the tempest. Vast trunks of prostrate
trees, upturned roots, and ponderous, broken, interwoven
branches, obstructed his passage at every step. Still on he toiled
manfully and patiently. In an hour and a half he had emerged
from the forest, and found himself engaged in passing a vast and
gloomy swamp. The earth quaked beneath his feet as he struggled
on, springing from one tufted hammock to another, and in
danger every moment of being swallowed up in the black, yielding
ooze, whose treacherous nature had been aggravated by the
deluge of rain which had been falling. Still, with the adroitness
and knowledge of woodcraft which he possessed, he was
enabled to escape from this, as well as from the other dangers
which beset his course. He reached the sources of the Monatoquit.
As he had anticipated, the slender stream was swollen
into a torrent, but he found, to his gratification, that a large tree
had been torn up by its roots in the whirlwind, and thrown
directly across the boiling flood. Across this natural bridge he
nimbly made his way, and again dashed into the forest. On he
sped, the distant lightning ever and anon flashing across and
illuminating his path, and assisting him in threading his difficult
passage through the tangled and tempest-riven woods. Day was

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

already faintly glimmering in the east, as the exhausted Morton
at last reached the outer barricade of Merry-Mount. The gate
was heavily and carefully barred; but the faithful Bootefish,
attentive to his master's signal, although, of course, as drunk as
usual, hastened to admit him. Morton ordered him to make all
secure against an impending attack, and to awaken him in two
hours. He then plunged into the palace, threw himself, all
smoking and reeking as he was, upon a bear-skin, and fell instantly
into a profound slumber.

p285-295 CHAPTER IV. THE SIEGE OF MERRY-MOUNT.

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

The only inhabitants of Merry-Mount, at that moment, were
Bootefish and the Canary Bird. The other retainers and vagabonds,
who composed its ordinary population, had gone up into
the interior of the country, to trade with the Indians, and to
supply themselves with beaver. As for Henry Maudsley, he had
some time before become disgusted with the ribaldry which prevailed
at the palace, and had abandoned entirely the temporary
residence which he had established there. Although, as we
shall have soon occasion to narrate, he still lingered in New
England; there had been for some time very little sympathy
or communication between him and the Lord of Merry-Mount.

Bootefish bustled about, during the brief slumber of his chief,
with a good deal of importance and alacrity, making prompt and
efficient provision for the approaching siege. There was a
goodly store of matchlocks, and plenty of ammunition in the
palace, which he now was busily employed in arranging, feebly
assisted by the Canary Bird, who seemed that morning to have
grown considerably more yellow of hue, at the same time that
he had lost a good deal of the blithe and chirping vivacity which
usually distinguished him.

There were three small apertures in the outward palisade,
which inclosed the buildings at Merry-Mount, which had been
intended for three murtherers or small cannon, which had never
been mounted, but which Bootefish knew to be lying somewhere
about the precincts. After considerable delay, he at last
was fortunate enough to find them, and, with great exertion,

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

succeeded, with the aid of Doryfall, in placing them in their
destined position.

The responsibility, which had been cast upon him, had for
the moment dissipated the drunkenness of the heroic chief butler,
and, as is usual with all truly great men, his genius seemed
to rise in proportion to the emergencies of his situation. He
never seemed more calm and self-collected than in this hour, so
big with the destinies of Merry-Mount.

“Here be twelve good snaphances, Master Canary Bird,” said
he, complacently, addressing his lieutenant, and not observing
the very rueful expression of the little man's face, “twelve snaphances,
three murtherers, and one hundred pounds of good dry
powder, besides a goodly heap of bullets of all sizes. By the
beard of my father, methinks 't is enough to blow these bloody
Puritans sky high; confusion upon the damnable croppies, Bernaby!
Here, pledge me the same.”

“Confusion to the croppies,” gasped Bernaby, after swallowing
eagerly a mighty draught of the potent liquid offered to him,
with the desperate intention of inflaming his courage, which was
growing rapidly torpid — “confusion to the croppies, Robin
Bootefish! Marry and amen.”

“Right, Bernaby! — but I wish thou wouldst get a little
color in those parchment cheeks of thine. Look at me, man!
Seest thou aught of the lily in my countenance?” cried the
worthy butler, turning full upon his companion a face like the
rising sun of midsummer.

“Truly, no, good Robin, and I could wish there were twenty
like thee at Merry-Mount. Alas! we be, after all, but three.
An' we had swashing Numps Rednape now, or Dick Shorthose,
or even Peter Cakebread, with his damnably ugly face, methinks
't would be more comforting. Besides, 't is a pity that we two
should gain all the glory of a triumph over Captain Standish. Is
it not so, Master Butler?”

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

“Fire and fagots, no!” roared Bootefish, “we two, led on
by the worthy Lord of Merry-Mount, are enough to toss an army
of psalm-singers into the sea. Humphrey Rednape be damned,
for a brawling, blustering bully; as for Peter Cakebread, I had
rather than forty shillings that he were here, that thine own
cowardice might be fairly scared out of thee, as thou witnessed
the scurvy shifts which the old baboon would be put to, to
escape the dangers which might beset him. But by the Lord!
while I am talking thus the moments are passing. 'T is time
to call the master.”

“Quite time, I should say, worthy Robin,” said the gay voice
of Morton, who suddenly joined them, looking as fresh and jovial
as ever, having found time, since arousing himself from his
brief slumber to exchange his soiled and way-worn habiliments,
and to array himself, as he said, in becoming costume to greet
the distinguished visitor whom he was expecting — “Quite time,
I assure thee, Robin, but, luckily, I do not depend upon the
larum of thy tongue, to tell me when to rise when danger is
nigh. I see thou hast completed thy preparations, for I have
already been the rounds, and I commend thee therefor. I do
not so highly commend thy present employment. 'T is not now
the `tempus dapibus.' The sun is half an hour high, and thou
must even defer the rest of thy potations, till we meet when all
is over to pour out our libations upon the altar of victory. For
the present, sobriety and decorum are most befitting.”

“And prithee, your worship, how knowest thou of the approach
of Captain Standish? How knowest thou whether he be
not even now at New Plymouth?” asked the butler.

“From the very best authority, worthy Master Robin,” answered
Morton, “I feel quite sure that Captain Miles Standish
hath already left New Plymouth, and is even now upon his way
to invade Thomas Morton of Merry-Mount.”

“And prithee, if I might ask, for there have been many idle

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

rumors floating about this expedition of late — prithee, who hath
told thee this?”

“No less a person, honest Robin, than the aforesaid Captain
Miles Standish himself,” answered Morton.

“Captain Miles Standish! echoed the honest butler, perfectly
astounded at this piece of intelligence, which his sovereign so
flippantly conveyed to him — Captain Miles Standish! — and
how, I pray thee, good Master, in the name of Satan, hast thou
happened in his company, and how —”

“And how in the name of Beelzebub have I happened out
of his company when once in it? thou wouldst say,” interrupted
Morton. “'T is a long story, and must be reserved in all
its details to some more quiet opportunity. Suffice for the
moment that the heroic Shrimp circumvented me by stratagem
at Wessaguscus.”

“And how, I prithee, didst thou so wittily circumvent him?”
cried Bootefish.

“I tell thee thou shalt know all in good time, Robin,” answered
Morton;” but let it suffice thee now, that I have reached
my palace in safety. But in faith, thou shouldst have seen them
butting their heads against each other in the dark, like drunken
rams, and outbellowing the thunder in their rage, when they
found their prisoner gone. As for the heroic Shrimp, trust me,
he tore his leather jerkin for spite, and Corporal Neegoose, even
the venerable Abraham, in whose bosom I had slept, would have
torn the very hair from his head for vexation, had it not been
too short to lay hold of.[1] But no more of this. To the look-out,
Bernaby, and tell me what thou seest.”

At this moment there was a loud knocking at the outer gate.
Bootefish, at a nod from his master, advanced to the palisades,
and reconnoitred the supposed enemy through a narrow lookout.

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

“'T is a red-skin,” said Bootefish, returning-to his master.

“A red-skin! then by my life 't is no enemy, I'll be sworn,”
exclaimed Morton. “To him again, Robin, and learn his
errand.”

Bootefish again advanced to the palisade, held a short parley
with the savage, which was inaudible to the others, and then,
after the lapse of a few minutes, returned to his sovereign.

“'T is a red-skin from Wessaguscus,” said he, “and one
who wishes well to the Master of Merry-Mount. He hath been
informed by a white man, who sojourneth in that neighborhood,
that Captain Miles Standish is even now upon his way to Merry-Mount,
having set sail with his followers in his pinnace after the
tempest of last night had abated. Fortunately, the wind hath
been wondrous light, or the mighty man would have been here
before the friendly scout.”

“Admit the scout, Robin, he will be one more man-at-arms
for our feeble garrison,” said Morton.

“Truly your worship,” answered Bootefish, “he utterly declined
all invitation to that effect, although it was warmly
extended to him by your unworthy precentor. He had promised
to deliver the message sent by the white man of Wessaguscus,
and having accomplished his errand, he hath vanished into the
bushes.

“My life for it, this is another friendly office on the part of
my subterranean philosopher. But thou knowest not my gem of
sages,” said Morton, “the solitary subterranean of Wessaguscus,
who —”

“Sail, ho!” cried the Canary Bird from his perch.

“The devil!” ejaculated Morton, suddenly interrupting himself
and mounting with wonderful rapidity to the lookout, in
order to survey the scene for himself.

After straining his eyes for a few seconds into the clear blue
distance, he became convinced that the white sail which was

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

first visible upon the edge of the horizon could be nothing else
than the pinnace of Standish.

“Truly, the Philistines be upon us,” cried he to Bootefish,
“and the tug of war approacheth. Look again to the barricades
and see that the murtherers are in fit condition to do their duty.
We shall have warmer work than hath been often seen at Merry-Mount.”

“'T is all in readiness, your worship,” hiccupped the butler,
whom matutinal potations, added to the excitement of his preparations,
had now rendered magnificently drunk. “All is
in readiness to receive the damnable brawlers of New Plymouth.
Down with the profane despisers of our holy liturgy! Down
with the bloody separatists! All is ready for them, your honor.”

“All right, Robin,” said the sovereign, descending from his
watch-tower and setting himself busily to work to examine the
arms and ammunition of the little fortress; “all very right, but
I wish thou wert not always so cursedly drunk when thy sobriety
would be worth its weight in gold to thy master. What a
piece of ill luck it is, too, that my garrison should be so feeble
just at this moment —”

“We are enough, your worship,” roared Bootefish; “enough
and more than enough to swallow every one of the rascals. I
pledge myself, I, Robin Bootefish, precentor and clerk of Merry-Mount,
pledge myself to chop them all into mince-meat, and
stuff sausages with them for your worship's breakfast. Confusion
to the drunken Puritans, your honor, and —”

“Tush, Robin,” interrupted Morton. “I like thy spirit, but
I cannot commend this braggadocio of thine. And, by the way,
what hath become of your other man-at-arms, the stalwart Canary
Bird? Go seek him out, Robin, for 't is time to muster our garrison.”

“Certainly, certainly,” hiccupped the butler. “'T is proper
that the garrison should be mustered. But your worship should

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

know that this Canary Bird is a drunken knave, and what is
more, a scurvy coward. I will look for him, your worship, but
I pledge myself that I shall find him creeping into a rat-hole, or
the bung of an empty ale-butt, to escape the —”

“So saying, the valiant butler staggered off, and after an
absence of a few minutes, returned, leading along, by the ear,
the recreant Doryfall, who, as he had rightly conjectured, had
been found stowed away in the cellar among the empty casks.

“Here be the Canary Bird, your worship,” cried Bootefish,
“marvellously ill of the pip I assure ye, and ready to moult all
his feathers, white as well as yellow. Here, my good fellow,”
he continued, extending his flask to the trembling Canary Bird,
“take another drop. Why, thou lily-livered, ague-shaking
mountebank, what ails thee, then, that thou swallowest not thy
liquor?”

“'T is nothing,” murmured the unlucky Canary Bird, in a
feeble voice, and utterly unable to swallow the proffered libation.
“I have a slight touch of the lockjaw. My aunt was a martyr
to it.”

“Your worship sees,” said Bootefish, turning away from the
cowardly Canary Bird with an expression of profound disgust
upon his countenance, “your worship sees that there is no dependence
to be placed upon this creature. Put not your trust
in Canary Birds, saith the wise man. No matter, your worship,
we two are enough to carbanado all the Puritans of Plymouth.
I pledge myself, your worship —”

“Enough of thy pledges, honest Robin,” interrupted Morton,
“and do me the kindness to ascend once more to the lookout,
for I believe that our unfortunate friend here might as well
return to the cellarage; he is not even fit to serve as a warder.
Go to the lookout, and that instantly. Death and damnation!”
he continued, as the drunken butler, after pompously staggering
towards the ladder which led to the lookout, fairly rolled over

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

upon the ground, as he attempted to ascend. “By Jupiter
Diespiter! here is my garrison reduced to myself. Why,
Bootefish, thou drunken lobster, art thou really deserting me in
my utmost need? Why, thou miserable, pot valiant, human
hogshead, thou —”

“Fair and softly, fair and softly,” hiccupped the butler, as he
slowly assumed a sitting posture at the foot of the ladder. “Fair
and softly, your worship. Good words are due to the future
bishop of Massachusetts. Ceremony is a proper thing, even
from a sovereign to his subjects. I was born to be an usher, a
genteel usher. Your worship shall see the genteel ceremony
with which I will receive the bloody-minded Puritans. Down
with the accursed Brownists! Cherish piety — piety and ceremony.
A curse upon all Canary Birds, and a fig for Miles
Standish.” With these disjointed ejaculations, the heroic Bootefish
fell into a profound lethargy.

Morton, stepping lighly over his prostrate carcase, now hastily
ascended his watch-tower. As he reached the summit, he saw
that the pinnace of Miles Standish had already cast anchor
under the cliff, and that the party who had captured him the
night before were disembarking upon the beach.

“By the Lord,” cried he to Doryfall, who still stood the
image of mute dismay near the base of the tower — “by the
Lord, the invincible armada hath arrived at last. By Jupiter, the
odds are something heavy, nine to one as I count them, for of my
garrison of two, one is drunk with fear and the other with liquor.
O, thou heroic and most truculent of Puritan captains, am I to
fall into thy hands after all? O, Miles, Miles! thou lengthy
brevity, thou gigantic pigmy, thou confounder of dimensions!
O, thou, who art Miles in name, leagues in valor, and but a few
paltry inches in stature, why the plague could not the plague
have swallowed thee in England, when thou didst so manfully
brave its fury, and why, O why did it spare thee to plague me
here with thy fury, in New England?”

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

As Morton thus soliloquized, the invading party had all disembarked
upon the beach, where they remained stationary, and
seemed to be listening to the orders of their commander.

“There they are, every one of them. I can see them all —
the captain, the centurion, the corporal, Standish, Abraham
Neegoose, and all the rest of them. `Antimachumque, Helimumque,
Securiferumque, Pyracmon.' O, Miles! why could not
the ferocious Pecksuot have sent an arrow through thy jerkin?
So should I have been saved the trouble, and the whole of New
England the expense, of this tremendous invasion.”

Morton's soliloquy was now cut short. The party upon the
beach began to move, and the sovereign of Merry-Mount hastily
descended from his elevated position, to prepare for their reception.
He was now, unfortunately, in solitary grandeur, for the
Canary Bird had taken advantage of his master's temporary
abstraction to again effect his escape into some unknown hiding-place,
and the butler being in a hopelessly lethargic condition,
there was none left but himself to defend his castle.

Morton now took one more hasty survey of his artillery and
ammunition, and then arming himself with a snaphance, he
stationed himself at one of the little apertures which had been
left in the palisade, and reconnoitred the enemy as they
advanced.

In a few minutes, the whole party, with their commander at
their head, had arrived within fifty yards of the palisade.

Morton now hesitated as to the course which he was to
pursue. If he had not been entirely alone, if only two or three
faithful followers had been at his side, it would have been
perfectly easy for him to have defended his castle against the
present invasion. It was now, however, evident that the
palisade was to be attacked upon two or three points at once,
for he already observed that three of the party were detailed in
an opposite direction. It would have been easy for him, as he

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

stood there at the embrasure, to have taken deliberate aim at
Standish, and have picked him off at the head of his company.
It would have been easy for him to have fired one raking shot
with the murtherer, which would have inflicted serious damage,
although the nature of the ground, and the clumsiness of his
field-pieces, rendered the result of such a cannonade very
doubtful. At all events, it was not likely that he could destroy
the whole of his assailants with his single arm, nor defend his
place against a desperate attack for any considerable length of
time. Had the Canary Bird but been a little less chicken-hearted,
or the butler a little more abstemious, it would have
been possible for him, perhaps, to have beaten off his assailants,
but alone as he was, the attempt seemed almost hopeless. His
palisades were weak and easily broken through, and it was
entirely out of his power to defend them at more than one point
at a time. Moreover, if his adversaries should become inflamed
by obstinate resistance upon his part, the terms of his final
surrender, — and to that under the circumstances he felt that he
must come at last, — would be more disadvantageous, particularly
if any of them should suffer loss of life or limb in the attack,
than perhaps might now be secured by diplomacy.

While Morton was thus holding council with himself, the
valiant Standish had advanced still nearer to the palisade. At
that moment the life of the Plymouth hero hung by a hair.
Morton covered him deliberately with his piece, the barrel of
which he thrust through the embrasure, and for an instant's
space, he was inclined to yield to the promptings of the busy
devil within him. After all, it would have been but an
act of self-defence. The invaders of his domicile were attacking
him without the slightest shadow of legitimate authority
derived from any source under heavens. The principles of
natural law, all authorized him to defend himself and his castle
by every means in his power. At the same time there was

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something in the manly bearing of Standish, that forcibly
appealed to the generous part of Morton's nature. Small was
the love which the Lord of Merry-Mount bore to the champion
of the Puritans, and still his soul revolted at the thought of
slaying the gallant soldier like a dog in a ditch. And yet he
had himself, within the last fifteen hours, suffered insult,
reproach, ignominy, at that gallant soldier's hands. He had
been treated like a base cur, bound, handcuffed, outraged,
degraded, and all this he felt without cause, and without right,
except the right of brutal violence. The man who had most
vilified, persecuted, and insulted him, by whom he had been
entrapped in the forest, caged, tormented, and, after his escape,
hunted down to his lair as if he had been a wolf, that man stood
now within a few yards of the muzzle of his gun. A motion of
his finger, and the vanquisher of Wittewamutt, the heroic
champion of the Puritans, the terror of all the savage tenants of
New England, was sent to his long account.

All these conflicting thoughts rushed rapidly through Morton's
brain. Generosity united with prudence finally triumphed over
the desire of vengeance. His character was more politic than
desperate; and as he reflected how infinitely complicated and
disastrous would be his relations with the settlers, should his
hands be stained with the blood of Standish, even if, as was
most unlikely, his grim companions in arms should leave his
death unrevenged a single hour, he relinquished his first and
deadly purpose.

During the infinitely small fragment of time, during which
his life had been thus rapidly but minutely weighed in the
balance of Morton's mind, Miles Standish had advanced very
near to the palisade, closely followed by Corporal Neegoose and
four of the men-at-arms.

“Thomas Morton,” he cried at last, “by authority of powers
committed to me by all the planters of New England combined,

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I summon thee presently to surrender thyself, without further
delay, into my hands.”

“Faith,” answered Morton from the embrasure, “the courtesy
I have so recently experienced at thy hands, when my evil
genius led me unwittingly into thy clutches, hath inspired me
with small relish for a further continuance of thy acquaintance.
Retire, Captain Standish, or I shall most assuredly do thee to
death where thou standest. `Verbum sapienti' — thou knowest
the proverb. Retire, or I will knock thee down like a moose.”

“Fire, if thou darest,” replied Standish, without blenching,
although the muzzle of Morton's matchlock still pointed full at
his breast; “fire, if thou darest, my death will avail thee nothing.
If thou wouldst have another murder upon thy guilty hands, do
as thou threatenest.”

“'T is a calumnious lie,” shouted Morton, stung by this insult
into renewed passion. “I marvel much, that a gentleman
and soldier, like thyself, Captain Standish, can stoop so low as
not only to wear the livery and obey the commands, but even to
repeat the falsehoods of these base-born curs. But I will not be
fretted out of my reason, and moreover —”

“Master Morton,” interrupted Standish, in a peremptory
tone, “this parley hath lasted till I am weary. In one word,
wilt thou surrender at discretion, or shall I use violence?
Choose, and that instantly, for I swear to thee by the God of
Jacob, that my orders shall be executed without a moment's
further delay.”

Morton was a prudent and politic man. During the interval
which had elapsed since the first arrival of the pinnace, sufficient
opportunity had been afforded him for reflection upon his position.
Even when giving way to an explosion of passion, his
reason was by no means clouded, but he had the wit to preserve
a method, even in his rage. He had been, throughout the whole
interview with Standish, collected, if not cool. He had

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reflected upon all the probable consequences of his action, even
while his matchlock pointed at the heart of Standish; he had
reflected, during the brief parley, upon his future prospects, even
while apparently yielding to a tempest of passion, and he had at
last arrived at the conclusion, that all the golden visions which
had solaced his exile, and to convert which into reality had been
the cherished object of years, must inevitably be dispelled, did
he not extricate himself skilfully from the dilemma in which he
found himself. He was sure, at all events, to fall into the hands
of his enemies, for to resist single-handed the present invasion,
was but fool-hardy. It was only the part of a desperate man to
sell his life dearly, and to defend himself to the last. His situation
was not yet desperate, but with the blood of Standish, or
that of any of his followers, upon his hands, it would be utterly
hopeless. On the other hand, if he surrendered himself into the
hands of Standish, the worst result which he anticipated was a
voyage to England. Under the present complication of circumstances,
he felt that more was to be gained than lost by such an
event. There was much in the recent history of his affairs that
might be handled by him with advantage, to circumvent the
projects of the new planters of New England. An immediate
interview with Sir Ferdinando Gorges would be of service at
the present juncture, in forwarding the enterprise of Sir Christopher
Gardiner, upon the success of which depended the fulfilment
of his own schemes.

Revolving these matters rapidly in his mind, and giving one
despairing glance at the motionless carcase of the chief butler,
he at last resolved to surrender. Within less than one minute
after Standish had uttered his last peremptory demand, Morton
called to him, through the embrasure, in a voice which had
resumed all its native gaiety, —

“As the result of the present parley, the garrison of this
fortress is disposed to capitulate. The general of the besieging
forces will please to propose his terms.”

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