Read Online Chesapeake by James A. Michener - Free Book Online

when braves march forth to battle, it is obligatory that there be victory songs.
    And yet, even though he knew the fraudulence of such behavior, when the villagers timidly returned and saw to their delight that this time their goods had not been carried off, they began to chant Scar-chin’s composition and to believe it. With appealing modesty Pentaquod stood silent, allowing Scar-chin to lead the applause. If the village had been saved, Pentaquod reasoned, it was because of my actions, and I will accept the credit. It was that night when the older men began thinking of him as a possible werowance.
    But when word next reached the tribe that Susquehannocks were moving south, even though Pentaquod assured the villagers that he knew certain tricks which might fend them off—provided he could find nine brave men who would not run away—the old werowance brusquely countermanded his proposal. ‘The only sensible thing to do is run into the marshes. We have been doing this for many years, and in all that time we have enjoyed a good life, with plenty of food and enough marsh grass to weave again the sides of our burned wigwams. Let the enemy have his triumph, if he needs it. Our security is in the marshes.’
    The strange aspect of this policy was that it in no way diminished the self-respect of the villagers, and it certainly did not diminish Pentaquod; he had proved his valor against the Nanticokes, and Scar-chin had composed the epic. Pentaquod was a true hero, and he did not have to repeat his heroics endlessly to retain his reputation. As he fled with the others into the safety of the southern marshes, every man believed thatif Pentaquod had wanted to oppose the Susquehannocks, he could have done so. Instead he preferred safeguarding his pregnant wife, and this, deemed the villagers, was much more sensible.
    As they crossed the river, and hid their canoes, and straggled through the rushes that lined the southern shore, Pentaquod heard two tribal tales that fascinated him, and he kept asking the older men numerous questions: ‘You say that to the east, where you go in summer, there is a river much greater than the ones I know?’ ‘The water is much saltier?’ ‘The birds are different and no man has ever seen the opposite shore?’ ‘And it is there, all the time, and a canoe cannot cross it?’ ‘What do you mean, waves coming to the shore so high they knock down a man?’
    He was so excited by their descriptions, and so willing to believe because all agreed, that he wanted to set out immediately to see this marvelous thing, but the werowance said, ‘We will be going there in the summer, to escape the mosquitoes.’ So he waited.
    The other story was incredible, much weightier than the tale of the big river, for it contained disturbing implications. He first caught rumor of it from Scar-chin, who said casually, ‘Maybe when the Great Canoe returns, it will chastise the Susquehannocks.’
    ‘What Great Canoe?’
    ‘The one that came many winters ago.’
    ‘It came where?’
    ‘Near the island.’
    ‘How big was it?’
    ‘I didn’t see it, but Orapak did, and so did Ponasque.’
    He had gone immediately to Ponasque, a very old man now, to ask directly, ‘Did you see the Great Canoe?’
    ‘I did,’ the old man said as they huddled in the marshes.
    ‘How big was it?’
    ‘Twenty canoes, forty, piled one on the other. It rose high in the air.’
    ‘How many paddlers?’
    ‘None.’
    This was the most ominous statement Pentaquod had ever heard, a Great Canoe moving without paddles. He contemplated this for some time, then asked the old man, ‘You saw this thing, yourself, not some great story recited at night?’
    ‘I saw it, beyond the island.’
    ‘What did you think of it?’
    The old man’s eyes grew misty as he recalled that stupendous day when his world changed. ‘We were very afraid. All of us, even Orapak. We could not explain what we had seen, but we had seen it. The fear has never left us, but