It
was a terrible temptation. Yet not one yielded to it. With tears
streaming down their faces, the Pilgrims knelt upon the shore and
saw the Mayflower go, following her with prayers and blessings until
she was out of sight. Then they went back to their daily labours.
Only when they looked out to sea the harbour seemed very empty with
no friendly little vessel lying there.
Meanwhile among all the miseries of the winter there had been one
bright spot. The Pilgrims had made friends with the Indians. They
had often noticed with fear Redmen skulking about at the forest's
edge, watching them. Once or twice when they had left tools lying
about they had been stolen. But whenever they tried to get speech
with the Indians they fled away.
What was their surprise then when one morning an Indian walked
boldly into the camp and spoke to them in broken English!
He told them that his name was Samoset, and that he was the
Englishmen's friend. He also said he could tell them of another
Indian called Squanto who could speak better English than he could.
This Squanto had been stolen away from his home by a wicked captain
who intended to sell him as a slave to Spain. But he had escaped
to England, and later by the help of Englishmen had been brought
back to his home. All his tribe however had meantime been swept
away by a plague, and now only he remained.
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