"I saw great guns down there," he said.
"What? guns?" was the general cry.
"Yes, great guns, as from some ship."
"Guns!" The despondency of the crew at once changed to ardent enthusiasm. Had they at length hit upon the spot for which they had so long sought in vain? The Indian was told to dive again, and see what could be found.
He did so. When he came up, their eyes were ready to start from their heads, for he bore with him an object of infinite promise to their wealth-craving souls. It was a lump of silver,--a "sow," they called it,--worth some two or three hundred pounds in money.
The search was over! The spot was found! Fortune lay within their reach! Marking the spot with a buoy, they rowed back to the ship, on which the captain had remained. Here they, disposed to have some sport, declared with long faces that the affair had better come to an end. They were wasting time and labor; the sea had no treasure to yield.
"If we were wise, captain," said the leading speaker, "we'd pull up stakes and sail back for merry old England. There's nothing but failure here. As much work done in digging and drudging at home would bring tenfold more profit."
Phips listened in silence to him and the others, looking from face to face.
"Our disappointments have been many," he replied, in a calm and resolute tone. "Yet I do not despair. I am determined to wait patiently on God's providence. We will find the treasure-ship yet, my lads. Do not lose courage."
Turning his gaze to one side as he spoke, he started violently, and then asked, in a tone so constrained that it seemed the voice of agony,--
"Why, what is this? Whence comes this?"
He had caught sight of the sow of silver, which they had cunningly laid a little out of direct vision.
"It is silver, Captain Phips," said the spokesman. "We did but jest with you. That came from the bottom of the sea. All is well; we have found the treasure-ship."
"Then, thanks be to God, we are made!" cried the captain, clasping his hands in fervent thankfulness.
There was no longer any lack of energy in the labor. All hands went to work with a hearty good-ill. Curiosity to learn what the sea had to yield wrought upon them as much as desire for reward. Up came the silver, sow after sow. In a short time they had brought up no less than thirty-two tons of this precious metal, with six tons besides that were raised and appropriated by a Captain Adderly, of Providence, whom Phips had engaged to help him, and who took this means of helping himself. His crew was small, but his diligence great.
The silver was not all in sows. Much of it was coined, and this coined silver was, in many cases, covered with a crust, several inches thick, of limestone-like material. It came out in great lumps, the crust needing to be broken with iron tools, when out would tumble whole bushels of rusty pieces of eight, Nor was the treasure confined to silver. There came up gold in large quantities, and also pearls and other precious stones. The Spaniards had gleaned actively in those days of old, when the treasures of Peru were theirs for the taking; and the ocean, its secret hiding-place once found, yielded generously. In short, the treasure recovered is said to have been worth nearly three hundred thousand pounds sterling. They did not exhaust the deposit. Their provisions failed, and they had to leave before the work was completed.
Others who came after them were well paid for their labor.
The treasure on board, Captain Phips had new trouble. The men, seeing "such vast litters of silver sows and pigs come on board," were not content with ordinary sailors' pay. They might even be tempted to seize the ship and take its rich lading for themselves. Phips was in great apprehension. He had not forgotten the conduct of his former crew. He did his utmost to gain the friendship of his men, and promised them a handsome reward for their services, even if he had to give them all his own share.
England was reached in safety, and the kingdom electrified by the story of Captain Phips's success. The romantic incidents of the narrative attracted universal attention.
Phips was the hero of the hour. Some of his enemies, it is true, did their utmost to make him a wronged hero. They diligently sought to persuade James II., then on the throne, to seize the whole treasure as the appanage of the crown, and not be content with the tithe to which his prerogative entitled him. James II. was tyrannical but not unjust. He refused to rob the mariners. "Captain Phips," he said, "he saw to be a person of that honesty, ability, and fidelity that he should not want his countenance."
Phips was certainly honest,--so much so, indeed, that little of the treasure came to him. His promises to his men were carefully kept; his employers were paid the last penny of their dues; in the end, out of the whole, there remained to himself less than sixteen thousand pounds. The Duke of Albemarle, moved by admiration for his honesty, gave him, as a present from his wife, a gold cup of the value of nearly one thousand pounds. As for the king, he was so pleased with the whole conduct of the adventurer, and perhaps so charmed by Phips's silvery speech, that he conferred on him the honor of knighthood, and the plain Kennebec boy became Sir William Phips, and a member of the aristocracy of England.
Every one acknowledged that the discoverer owed his success to merit, not to luck. He was evidently a man of the highest capacity, and might, had he chosen, have filled high places and gained great honors in England. But America was his native land, and he was not to be kept from its shores.
He became such a favorite at court, that one day, when King James was particularly gracious to him, and asked him what favor he desired, he replied that he asked nothing for himself, but hoped that the king would restore to his native province its lost liberties, by returning the charter of which it had been deprived.
"Anything but that!" exclaimed James, who had no idea of restoring liberty to mother-land or colony.
He appointed Phips, however, high sheriff of New England, and the adventurer returned home as a man of power and station. On his way there he visited the silver-ship again, and succeeded in adding something of value to his fortune.
Then, sailing to Boston, he rejoined his wife after a five years' absence, and, to complete the realization of his predictions, immediately began to build himself a "fair brick house in Green Lane."
We have finished our story, which was to tell how the sheep-boy of the Kennebec rose to be high sheriff of New England, with the privilege of writing "Sir" before his name. His after-life was little less memorable than the part of it told, but we have no space left to tell it in.
King James was soon driven from the throne, and King William took his place, but Sir William Phips retained his power and influence. In 1690 he led an army against Port Royal in Acadia, took it, and came back to receive the plaudits of the Bostonians. He next attempted to conquer all Canada from the French, attacked Quebec with a strong force, but was repulsed, largely in consequence of a storm that scattered his ships. The Bostonians had now no plaudits for him. The expedition had cost New England about forty thousand pounds, and there was not a penny in the treasury. The difficulty was overcome by the issue of treasury-notes, an expedient which was not adopted in England till five years afterwards.
Charles Montagu, the alleged inventor of exchequer bills doubtless owed his idea to the sharp-witted Bostonians.
The beginning of 1692 found Sir William again in England, whence he came back to his native land as captain-general and governor-in-chief of the colony of Massachusetts. From sheep-boy he had risen to the title of "Your Excellency."
Phips was governor of Massachusetts during the witchcraft delusion. The part he took in it was not a very active one; but when, in 1693, he found that grand juries were beginning to throw out indictments, and petit juries to return verdicts of "Not guilty," he ended the whole mad business by emptying the prisons, then containing about one hundred and fifty persons committed, while over two hundred more were accused. In 1693 Governor Phips led an expedition against the Indians of Maine, and forced them to conclude a treaty of peace. In 1694 he went to England, to answer certain accusations against his conduct as governor, and here was taken suddenly sick, and died February 18, 1695.
The noble house of Phips, thus instituted, has steadily grown in rank and dignity since that date, bearing successively the titles of baron, viscount, earl, until finally, in 1838, a Phips attained the rank of marquis of Normandy. It is a remarkable development from the life of that poor boy, one of a family of twenty-six, whose early life was spent in tending sheep in the wilderness of Maine.
THE STORY OF THE REGICIDES.
The years 1675 and 1676 were years of terrible experience for New England. The most dreadful of all the Indian outbreaks of that region--that known as King Philip's War--was raging, and hundreds of the inhabitants fell victims to the ruthless rage of their savage foes. Whole villages perished, their inhabitants being slain on the spot, or carried away captive for the more cruel fate of Indian vengeance. The province was in a state of terror, for none knew at what moment the terrible war-whoop might sound, and the murderous enemy be upon them with tomahawk and brand.
Everywhere the whites were on the alert. The farmer went to his fields with his musket as an indispensable companion.
Outlying houses were guarded like fortresses. Even places of worship were converted into strongholds, and the people prayed with musket in hand, and, while listening to the exhortations of their pastors, kept keenly alive to the sounds without, for none could tell at what moment the foe might break in on their devotions.
In the frontier town of Hadley, Massachusetts, then on the northwestern edge of civilization, on a day in the summer of 1676, the people were thus all gathered at the meeting-house, engaged in divine service. It was a day of fasting and prayer, set aside to implore God's aid to relieve the land from the reign of terror which had come upon it. Yet the devout villagers, in their appeal for spiritual aid, did not forget the importance of temporal weapons. They had brought their muskets with them, and took part in the pious exercises with these carnal instruments of safety within easy reach of their hands.
Their caution was well advised. In the midst of their devotional exercises a powerful body of Indians made a sudden onslaught upon the village. They had crept up in their usual stealthy way, under cover of trees and bushes, and their wild yells as they assailed the outlying houses were the first intimation of their approach.
These alarming sounds reached the ears of the worshippers, and quickly brought their devotional services to an end. In an instant all thought of dependence upon the Almighty was replaced by the instinct of dependence upon themselves.
Grasping their weapons, they hurried out, to find themselves face to face with the armed and exultant savages, who now crowded the village street, and whose cries of triumph filled the air with discordant sounds.
The people were confused and frightened, huddled together with little show of order or discipline, and void of the spirit and energy necessary to meet their threatening foe.
The Indians were on all sides, completely surrounding them.
The suddenness of the alarm and the evidence of imminent peril robbed the villagers of their usual vigor and readiness, signs of panic were visible, and had the Indians attacked at that moment the people must have been hurled back in disorderly flight, to become in great part the victims of their foes.
It was a critical moment. Was Hadley to suffer the fate of other frontier towns, or would the recent prayers of pastor and people bring some divine interposition in their favor?
Yes; suddenly it seemed as if God indeed had come to their aid; for as they stood there in a state of nerveless dread a venerable stranger appeared in their midst, a tall, stately personage, with long white hair, and dressed in strange, old-fashioned garb, his countenance beaming with energy and decision.
"Quick," he cried, "into line and order at once! The Indians are about to charge upon you. Take heart, and prepare for them, or they will slaughter you like sheep."
With the air of one born to command, he hastily formed the band of villagers into military array, displaying such skill and ardor that their temporary fright vanished, to be succeeded by courage and confidence. Had not the Almighty sent this venerable stranger to their aid? Should they fear when led by God's messenger?
"Now, upon them!" cried their mysterious leader. "We must have the advantage of the assault!"
Putting himself at their head, he led them on with an ardor remarkable in one of his years. The savages, who had been swarming together preparatory to an attack, beheld with surprise this orderly rush forward of the villagers, and shrunk from their death-dealing and regular volleys. And the white-haired form who led their foes with such fearless audacity struck terror to their superstitious souls, filling them with dread and dismay.
The struggle that followed was short and decisive. Animated by the voice and example of their leader, the small band attacked their savage enemies with such vigor and show of discipline that in very few minutes the Indians were in full flight for the wilderness, leaving a considerable number of dead upon the ground. Of the villagers only two or three had fallen.
The grateful people, when the turmoil and confusion of the affray were over, turned to thank their venerable leader for his invaluable aid. To their surprise he was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished in the same mysterious manner as he had appeared. They looked at one another in bewilderment.
What did this strange event signify? Had God really sent one of his angels from heaven, in response to their prayers, to rescue them from destruction? Such was the conclusion to which some of the people came, while the most of them believed that there was some miracle concerned in their strange preservation.
This interesting story, which tradition has preserved in the form here given, has a no less interesting sequel. We know, what most of the villagers never knew, who their preserver was, and how it happened that he came so opportunely to their rescue. To complete our narrative we must go back years in time, to the date of 1649, the year of the execution of Charles I. of England.