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goldvermilion87) wrote2010-10-03 06:44 pm
Plymouth or Jamestown?
I cannot tell you how much that went to my head...
Well, I can tell you: It went so much to my head, that I thought it would win a national story competition. The competition was to write a story about the first thanksgiving. That's why we had to write the story at all.
I was young and innocent then. I didn't realize just how politically incorrect it was. It didn't stand a chance. *sigh*
I did get to feel a little bit famous for a day or so, though. I even fantasized about it being turned into a play that would be put on in the Thanksgiving Day program. Needless to say, that never happened. Hey, a girl can dream!
I should note that the title was my mom's idea. I have never seen the TV show that it alludes to.
Truth or Consequences
“Francis Billington! Get over here right now!” shouted his mother.
“Coming Mother,” called back the young scamp. He immediately turned the opposite direction and followed a young Indian boy that he had been talking to before he was so loudly interrupted. As soon as he was out of hearing distance even of his mother’s loud voice they both stopped.
“What happened next, Running-Deer?” Francis asked. Running-Deer evidently was telling a very exiting story.
“I hit bear with my knife and he fall down dead at my feet. I show my father, King Massasoit. He make me great warrior. Then I think ‘Now I warrior, I need learn white man’s language so he trade with me’ I ask Squanto if he teach. He say yes. Now me very happy. You trade very loud thing for bear tooth and two arrow?”
“Sure” said Francis, and he handed over a little wooden whistle for the articles that the Indian held in his hand.
“I’d better get going or Mother will be very angry. Bye! I’ll see you soon.”
“I be here tomorrow at sunrise. Try to come,” and Running-Deer started off to his village. Francis, with a look of mischief in his eye hid the arrows and the bear tooth and ran home.
When Francis got home he was greeted with a stern, “Get over here right now young man!” from his mother.
“Yes?” he purred innocently.
“You know why you’re in trouble so get that look off your face. Tell me right now why you didn’t come when I called you!”
“An Indian boy, Running-Deer tied me up and carried me away. He told me that if I didn’t give him my whistle he would kill me.” Francis lied.
“Nonsense” his mother yelled angrily “Stop making up such stories”
“But it’s true!” he whimpered. “Look anywhere. Running-Deer’s got it”
For a second, Mistress Billington hesitated, then she looked in Francis’ pockets and everywhere that she thought the small boy might hide his little wooden whistle. When she didn’t find it she looked alarmed. An Indian, threatening her boy? How dreadful!
“I must talk to Governor Bradford,” she announced and then hurried out the door.
At the governor’s house she rushed in without even knocking “My son has been threatened by one of those savage redskins!” she cried.
“Wait a minute,” the governor said quietly, “sit down and tell me the details”
Mistress Billington sat down and repeated Francis story ending with her search for the whistle in Francis clothing.
“How do you know he is telling the truth, Mistress Billington?” Governor Bradford inquired imperturbably. “You know as well as I that Francis is a great liar,”
Mistress Billington answered “Francis may be a liar but he isn’t very smart. It would take him a long time to think up such a believable story and there is no way he could hide the whistle so well. He could have destroyed the whistle or threw it into the sea, but the whistle is his greatest treasure. Why would he get rid of it just to get out of a spanking?
“I perfectly comprehend what you are saying, Mistress Billington, but Francis never stops to think of the consequences before he does anything. He probably got rid of it and is now at home regretting what he did. Go home and tell him that if he tells the truth about his whistle he will be punished in no other way than that he won’t get his whistle back unless he makes himself a new one. If he insists that he is telling the truth come to me and we will think about it some more.
Mistress Billington agreed that it would be a good idea and started walking home.
Meanwhile, Francis was at home thinking with delight over the consequences of his deed. He had done it for no other reason to make mischief. He wished that he would be there to see Running-Deer squirm as his father reprimanded him, maybe in front of the whole tribe. Then, perhaps, Francis would get Running-Deer’s prized bow for his own. He giggled just thinking about how the stoic Indian’s face would blanche as he heard his father’s stern reprimand.
As Francis heard his mother’s footsteps near the door of their little house he ran up to the loft and pretended that he had been crying the whole time. When his mother told him to come down he excused himself by saying that he felt too sick. This only made her feel more certain that he had been hurt by his Indian friend. “Who wouldn’t after his life had been threatened?” she reasoned.
Francis’ brother John was supposed to be working with the harvesters that day. Only John had went, as Francis was needed to help his mother in the kitchen. Francis’ father was spending the day in the stocks for Sabbath-breaking the day before. Master Billings and his son, John came in just about the same time.
“Time for dinner Francis.” Mistress Billington called.
“What’s he doing in the loft this time of day?” Master Billington growled. Being in the stocks all day never put him in a good mood.
The most terrible thing has happened, I believe, but before I know for sure, I must ask Francis a question. “Francis, dear, what really happened to your whistle? If you tell the truth I won’t punish you at all.”
“I already told you, Mother.”
“Yes, I believe you. I was just checking. Making an accusation like that is a serious thing, you know.”
Then Mistress Billington told the whole story to her husband and other son.
The story did not make much of an impression on Master Billington He didn’t really care what was happening in his family. John seemed horrified, but the boys winked at each other when no one was looking.
The next day, as soon as her work was done, Mistress Billington hurried over to Governor Bradford’s house.
Good day, Mistress Billington,” he said politely. Then he looked a little worried. “Does Francis stick to his story?” he asked.
“Yes, but please don’t call it a story, I know for sure that it isn’t a story. He was still so sick from fright that he could hardly eat, and he is always hungry.”
“I am afraid we will have to talk to Chief Massasoit about the matter. I just hope that he takes it well. You know, of course, that Running-Deer is his favorite son?”
“Well I don’t care really how he takes it. I want to find out the truth.”
“We had better go now. We will bring Captain Standish with us for safety, and Edward Winslow as interpreter.”
The little party set out on foot to the camp of Chief Massasoit. The old chief seemed very pleased to see them all. He ordered food be set forth and sat down to talk with him. When he heard the news they had to bring his rare smile disappeared.
“Do you think Running-Deer would really do this to your son?” Winslow translated. The tone in Massasoit’s voice seemed very hurt.
“We do not wish to believe it, but there seems to be no other thing to believe.” Bradford replied as Winslow quickly interpreted every word that was said. “As the young Billington boy is well-known for lying any evidence of the innocence of your son would be accepted, but, if we don’t find any we will have to tell you that he is guilty and ask you to punish him as your law demands.
The great chief sadly led them to the teepee of his son. When questioned, Running-Deer hesitated to answer that he had the whistle. He was really afraid to tell because he thought the white men would take the whistle back. All around him, including his father thought he wanted to hide the ‘truth’ about his threatening Francis. When the whistle was found in his possession all thought that he was guilty. He then told them why he really had it, but no one, not even his own father would believe him.
“We are very sorry that this has happened” Bradford said gently. He saw how pained the old chief was. “We will not hold it against you, though we do ask that you punish him for his deed. We hope that you will still join us next week for our thanksgiving feast.” And with that the small band of pilgrims left, all feeling deeply for Massasoit’s grief and shame at his most beloved son’s misdeed.
When Francis found out at home, he waited impatiently for the sight of an Indian messenger coming with Running-Deer’s bow and arrows or something else like that. When the Indian messenger did come, Francis felt quite differently. The message was as follows: The day before the Pilgrim’s thanksgiving feast, Running-Deer was to be executed.
He almost made a scream of fright, but he caught himself in time and made a dash for the woods.
Upon hearing the message, Governor Bradford went to Massasoit’s village to plead for the life of Running-Deer. It was no use. The Indian law demanded his life. Massasoit was too proud to let his son’s misdemeanor go unpunished.
Once Francis got into the woods, he ran straight for the spot where he had hid the bear tooth and arrows. At the spot he hesitated.
“I didn’t do it on purpose to kill Running-Deer, so it isn’t my fault,” he reasoned
“Yes it is! Yes it is!” screamed his conscience.
“But if I tell I might get killed instead,” he argued.
“If you don’t his blood will be on your head then,” conscience answered.
“It’s Massasoit’s fault, not mine. If he wants to kill his son, let him.” And with that Francis smothered his conscience and left the forest.
The day before the thanksgiving feast the town was not as happy as one might expect. Everyone was quiet. One boy in particular seemed downcast. Francis had kept his conscience down successfully for the last five days. It was becoming hard work, though. He still walked dutifully on with his mother and Governor Bradford toward the place of execution.
There they met Massasoit, grim and stony-faced. He was not going to show any sign that he regretted his son’s death. Massasoit signaled. In what seemed like hours to Francis, Running-Deer was brought out. When he saw Francis, he gave him a pained look. It was getting too much for Francis to bear. The chief’s son was laid down with his head on a rock. Massasoit began to raise his hand. Francis screamed!
“STOP! STOP! You can’t do it! He didn’t do anything! I lied! We really made a fair trade. Kill me instead of Running-Deer. I am the murderer.”
Everyone looked in surprise at the boy. Squanto, who was also a spectator of the execution, interpreted all that the boy had said.
Massasoit looked at the boy with tears in his eyes. “Are you telling the truth?”
“I am. I’m very sorry, truly I am.”
“You are heartily forgiven my son,” the great chief said and they embraced.
Francis Billington gave back Running-Deer’s bear tooth and the arrow. He also spent all his spare time whittling a whistle with a better tone. He even carved a picture of a young deer sprinting across the meadows on it.
The next day, thanksgiving was a joyful one. The Pilgrims were thankful for the bountiful crops the Lord had provided for them. They and the Indians were thankful that they could live peacefully together. There were two people in the crowd that were especially thankful. One, Francis Billington was thankful that God gave him the courage to admit that he lied, even though he would not be able to participate in the festivities. (That was to be his punishment.) He was also thankful that he had found a good friend in Running-Deer. The other person who was especially thankful was Running-Deer. He was thankful that he would not be killed and was found innocent. He was thankful that he was given the grace to forgive Francis.
From then on the two boys were good friends. Whenever one or the other heard a whistle he was reminded of that first Thanksgiving and was reminded of the consequences of falsehood.
The End