From the right
appears a Norse galley, the armor-clad warriors and their leader
Thorwald making a fine picture as they disembark, carrying their
shields, spears, and battle axes. As the men draw near they see
the three canoes, and Thorwald forms three groups from his
company, who approach rapidly toward them. The approach so
frightens the Indians under two of the canoes that they rise up
and attempt to flee; whereupon the warriors after some fierce
fighting, kill them with their javelins.
The third boat is removed and reveals three Indians too
terrified to move. One escapes and one is captured; another,
feigning death, creeps slowly and painfully to the left, where
his every gesture reveals the agonies of a mortally wounded
warrior. The canoes are taken and borne aloft, on the shoulders
of the majestic Vikings, trophies of a foreign land and
victorious conflict.
No sooner do they pass on board the ship than a watcher in the
prow warns the rest of impending danger; for, swiftly and warily
approaching; the infuriated red men seem to be planning revenge
in a surprise attack. Like a wall of flashing steel the shields
go up around the deck while the gangplank is quickly drawn in.
Suddenly a shower of arrows fly toward the wall of shields,
hitting them with a thud but seemingly doing no harm. Presently
they flee in haste, thinking perhaps these are gods who cannot
be harmed. Slowly the shields are lowered and Thorwald is shown
to be in great distress. One sees he is in a death swoon, yet,
he raises an arm and points toward the Gurnet, then reels and
falls into the arms of his stalwart men. Once more that steel
wall goes up, and the mysterious strangers with their curious
ship move out on the sea, bearing their leader's body held high
on locked shields.
Next appear three men having an English flag with the words
"Martin Pring-Patuxet - 1603."
Here on the shore, with a band of men dressed in the costumes of
those early days, appears a right merry group of men listening
to one of their number who is playing on a gittern. As if
enamored of the melody the Indians gather around the musician.
One, who by his gesticulations, tells in actions more plainly
than words that he wishes to dance, offers this modern Orpheus a
peace-pipe. Others present various gifts until the English youth
steps out among them. They form a circle about him and try to
keep time to the music.
Suddenly a member who drops out receives a beating. Fiercer and
swifter becomes the dance until in the height of the wildest
part a number of dogs spring forward on their leashes, so
frightening the savages that they flee in terror. The player
seems to be amused yet startled at the incident and goes toward
the Indians laughing. Behind a French flag the lights reveal
three sailors. On the flag we see written: "Sieur De Champlain -
July 19, 1605."
As the lights shift, two Indians appear bearing a great number
of codfish which are being examined by Champlain and his men.
The Indians show the hooks and lines with which they catch these
fish. Noting some growing corn, Champlain tries to learn about
the strange plant. The Indians by signs show him that corn may
be raised and used as food. He barters for food and fish. Having
acquired a great variety of provender they move toward the shore
as the lights fade.
Next appear three men dressed in the Dutch mariner's uniform of
the time. The flag they carry bears the inscription: "Admiral
Blok - 1614."
A crowd of Dutchmen appear to be enjoying the evening. They are
watching a band of Indians who are dancing. One cannot tell
which they are enjoying most, the long-stemmed pipes they are
smoking or the weird dances of the redmen, whom they loudly
applaud.
Following this scene is the tableau of Captain John Smith in the
spring of 1614. Behind this group are seen three English sailors
holding a flag upon which is written "John Smith - Accomack -
1614."
Down by the water where streaks of foam top the dark waves and
the forms of two men loom dark and spectral, a boat is riding at
anchor. While the boulders beat the surf into white foam and the
branches of the elms wail and toss in the night wind, Smith and
four of his men are trading with the Indians; others of his men
are on guard against any treachery, while two of the men are
placing the skins which they have bought into hogsheads. There
are thirty or forty Indians when the bartering is at its height,
and Smith is seen making a bargain with an Indian for a bale of
beaver.
One of Smith's men, who notices a very fine skin an Indian is
wearing, lifts it to show it to Smith. The Indian resents this
act, and there seems to be resentment and fear among all the red
men. The Englishmen stiffen to attention, but Smith, who feared
neither man nor devil, goes among the Indians carrying a copper
kettle and a gorgeous blanket. He held out his blanket
persuasively and added several strings of beads. Then he draped
the blanket on himself. The Indian at last reluctantly yields
and takes off the skin, a beautiful black fox. The lights closed
in around a group of Indians decked in their new robes.
Our attention is turned toward the shore once more where three
English sailors hold a flag bearing the words: "Thomas Hunt -
Patuxet - 1615." Hunt enters stealthily at the right, and his
attention is concentrated upon a spot where his trained eye has
caught, a glimpse of something of greater interest than bird or
fish.
