Free The Landing of the Pilgrims by James Daugherty Page A

they must labor, and watch by night against hunger and danger. Each day for a year, their tired eyes had watched the naked horizon and never a sail had come to bring them the promised supplies. Had they been utterly forgotten? Was there still an England?
    Suddenly a cannon shot signaled the workers in from the woods and clearings. A sail on the horizon! Soon an English ship had anchored in the harbor. All Plymouth was at the water’s edge to greet the men who stepped from the longboat. Their friend, Mr. Cushman, had come in the ship
Fortune
, bringing thirty-five lusty young men. Some were members of the Leyden Church; all were good workers for the fields, and soldiers for defense. They were given welcome and then eager attention as they told news of home and friends.
    Mr. Cushman delivered his letters to the Governor. It appeared that the
Fortune
had brought no supplies, not so much as a barrel of flour. The letter from the merchant Adventurers was full of reproaches. The
Mayflower
had been sent back empty to England. The company would lose money.
    “I know your weakness was the cause of it, and I believe more weakness of judgemente, than weakness of hands,” said the letter. The
Fortune
must bring back a profitable cargo or the Adventurers might not invest further in Plymouth Plantation. A new contract was enclosed for the signatures of the colonists. In it they practically bound themselves to slavery to the Adventurers for seven years. Reluctantly they signed it.
    In two weeks the
Fortune
sailed for England with a cargo of clapboard and two hogsheads of beaverskins. This fur was unknown in England and had been first brought to Plymouth by Squanto.
    As the
Fortune’s
sails faded on the horizon, the colonists turned back to their labor. It seemed that the
Fortune
was a name that mocked their hopes of supply and comfort from England.

Of the Strange Message from Canonicus and Their Bold Reply

    An Indian runner had brought the strange token and departed as silently as he had come. The snake skin with its black and brown patterns lay on the table like an evil thing. The light glistened on its shining scales and six arrows protruded from its gaping mouth. The thing had some meaning that boded no good. It had been sent to the Pilgrims by Canonicus, Chief of the Narragansetts.
    At once Bradford sent for Squanto, Winslow, Brewster, Allerton, and Standish. Squanto told them that the snake skin meant that Canonicus planned war upon them. It was a message of defiance. The Elders debated whether to ask for peace or answer in kind.
    Brewster contended they should send a message saying, “We would wish to have peace but if you want war, we are ready.”
    “Perhaps he will better understand this,” said Bradford, snatching the arrows from the rattlesnake skin and filling it with powder and shot.
    When the rattlesnake skin was returned to Canonicus he refused to accept or even touch it. He ordered it out of his sight, out of the village, out of his domain.
    “It is the terrible medicine with which the English destroy our people and take from us the lands of our fathers,” cried the terrified chieftain.
    The snake skin was refused by one awed chieftain after another until it was finally returned to Plymouth.

Thanksgiving, 1621

    In the spring rain and summer sun, the green stalks of the Indian corn grew tall. The firm ears became full and heavy, two and three on each stalk. The corn silk turned brown on the end of each ear and every tall stalk waved its feathery tassels like an Indian chief. Under Squanto’s guidance, the Pilgrims hoed and tended the corn hills through the hot summer days. Health and strength came back to the invalids and no one was sick.
    The Bay teemed with shad, cod, mackerel, and herring. Squanto showed the Pilgrims how to take lobsters and eels. He led them to where oyster and clam beds were most abundant. When the summer was done, the hard golden ears of corn were reaped and stored.
    Now there was time to