The Bet

“Let me go! I’m just a kid!” I yelled.

          “What are you doing here? Who are you with?” asked the lead Indian. He was taller than the others and probably in his late twenties. His white eyes appeared to float in the darkness that was his painted face.

          “My name is Zammie. I’m just looking for my cousin.”

          “This village is abandoned. It’s a cursed place. No one should be here.”

          “Cursed? What do you mean?”

          “Put him with the other.” The Indian who had tied my wrists pushed me along towards the edge of the village where another Indian was being held with his hands tied behind his back. The village had been built along a series of small grassy hills with a small river running along one side of it. The sandy shoreline of what looked like the ocean was less than a quarter mile away explaining why I could hear the breaking of waves.

          The Indians tied a leather leash around my neck and began pulling me along like a dog. The other captured Indian was pulled with a leash as well. We left the village and began walking further inland towards a thick forest of green pine trees.

“Where are they taking us?” I asked the other captive. He ignored me.

“What’s your name?” I asked him. He still ignored me. “My name is Zammie.” The man was thin and athletic-looking like the other Indians, but he looked a little older than the leader who captured me. It was obvious these guys were in good shape because they were lean and muscular and they showed no signs of being tired even after we had been walking for several hours. After climbing more hills and fording a couple shallow rivers I was beginning to feel the strain.

“When do you think we’ll stop to rest?” I asked him. He still ignored me. “Do you even understand what I’m saying?” On my previous time trips I had learned that although it sounded to me as if I was speaking English, the words I spoke were understood by whomever I was addressing. I’m sure this Indian could understand me. “Are you mute? Can you not talk? We’ve been walking for hours and you haven’t said one word to me.”

The Indians that were pulling us along looked back at us, murmured something to each other and began laughing. I noticed the captive looking at me and trying to hold back a grin as well.

“They have a bet on how long you will last,” said the other captive.

“Finally! You speak,” I said. “What do you mean, ‘how long I will last’?”

“The one holding your leash thinks you will fall before we make camp. The other bets you won’t.”

“What? Why do you think I’ll fall?” I asked the Indian holding onto me. 

“Because you are frail,” said the other captive. “You may dress like a Patuxet but you are not one. And your hair is too short. Not like the hair of someone your age should be.”

--from Time Trip #3: 

Witness to the First Thanksgiving

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

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A Visitor to Plymouth

Once we entered March the weather began to make a real turn for the better. The temperature lifted and more birds began to flock to the area filling the void with their delicate singing. Unfortunately by this time, only 50 of the original 102 passengers were still alive.

On March 16^th, during a military training exercise led by Capt. Standish, everyone stopped when they noticed a solitary Indian again standing atop the hill that was a quarter mile away.

“I’m not going this time,” said Stephen Hopkins. The blood-curdling yelps he heard the last time he went out to the hill were still ringing in his ears.

He wouldn’t have to go. After a short wait, the Indian began making his way towards the village. We all crowded around on top of Fort Hill so we could watch his every step. The alarm bell was rung and the women and children slowly made their way into the rendezvous. Since it was just a single Indian there wasn’t as much immediacy this time around. Soon the Indian crossed the larger hill on the other side of the brook before wading chest-deep through the water. This was no simple task because the water was quite cold and this Indian wore almost no clothing. After crossing the brook, the Indian, a healthy, strong looking man nearly six feet tall, entered into the village. Still walking in long, confident strides, he made his way towards the rendezvous. He appeared to be heading straight for the entrance.

“What are we gonna do?” asked John Billington.

“Are we going to stop him?” asked Edward Winslow.

Capt. Standish walked down from the hill and approached the Indian. Edward Winslow followed close behind him in support.

“Halt!” said Capt. Standish. He held up his hand like a traffic cop and the Indian stopped walking. He had a pleasant smile on his face that no one quite knew how to interpret. “Kyla! Please speak with this man.”

“Yes, sir,” I ran down the hill and looked up at the Indian. He was several inches taller than the Pilgrim men, and he looked to be in very good shape. The only clothing he wore was a soaked breechclout around his waist. He had straight black hair like mine except it was short in the front and on the right side and long in the back. A couple thin strands of his hair were neatly braided. He carried a bow in one hand that reminded me of the Arjuna statue. There were two arrows in his other hand. I noticed that one arrow had a head on it and the other did not. I was about to ask him what his name and purpose was when he raised his arms in a manner of greeting and said something that shocked everyone.

“Welcome, Englishmen!”

--from Time Trip #3: 

Witness to the First Thanksgiving

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

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The Two Arrows

“Samoset. Why were you holding those two arrows yesterday? One of them didn’t even have a head on it.”

 “Yes. The arrows are a symbol.”

“A symbol of what?”

“One arrow has a point, and one does not. One arrow means war, one means peace. We hope the English choose wisely.”

Time Trip Adventure 3: 

Witness to the First Thanksgiving

Now available for Kindle at Amazon.com! 

An entertaining and informative 
full-length novel 
for only 99 cents!

Learn about the history surrounding one of our most treasured holidays through the eyes of Zammie and Kyla as they travel back in time in search of what actually unfolded when the English Separatists first met a small group of Wampanoag Indians.

Experience both the suffering and the joy of the fledgling Plymouth settlement as the surviving families work themselves to near extinction in order to build their new home.

Spend time in a Native village deep within the forests west of Cape Cod where hunting is a way of life and peaceful relations must be developed with neighboring tribes in order to secure continued growth.

Let Zammie and Kyla be your guide as you'll journey with them through both the familiar and the unknown. 

Think you know everything about the First Thanksgiving?

Think again.  

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

Available at Amazon.com!  

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

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A Shawnee Folk Tale

“I will tell you the story of the Thunder Spirit,” said one of the old Indian men sitting next to the fire. It was a chilly evening, probably in October, but I wasn’t sure. It had become difficult to keep track of the English calendar. The moon was full and shining brightly overhead, and the wind bristled through the tree tops causing the few leaves that were left to dance and sway. 

The old man’s hair was long and gray. The skin of his face appeared to have a million wrinkles. His eyes looked closed even when he was looking around. The children listened intently, their faces glowing orange in the light of the fire.

“This story was first told to me by an old Shawnee woman when I was younger than you children here.”

The old man cleared his throat and began. “Long ago there was a woman who lived alone in her village. She was young and beautiful. She combed her long, thick hair every day with eagle oil, and her body had grown healthy with venison. She carried her own heavy chopped wood to her home. This helped build her strength. Her skin was soft like corn silk. But she was too beautiful to have just any man. So she lived alone, admiring her own beauty.

“Then one day she met a man. This man had followed her from the river back to her home. This man was like no one she had ever known before. He had piercing, brown eyes. His long hair, longer than hers, blew behind him as he walked beside her like smoke drifting in the wind. He carried the chopped wood for her. He carried the water baskets from the corn fields for her. The feathers tied in his hair seemed to float with each step he took. His powerful voice swallowed her whole as he spoke. ‘Maiden, let me help you with your labor,” he said. ‘Allow me to invite you to my home to meet my family.’ 

“So she followed him. She was too nervous to look into his eyes. All she could do was smile. He walked beside her to his family wetu. He introduced her to his two sisters, and they politely asked her to stay with them. The woman stayed with his family. They appreciated her and enjoyed her company. She accepted this powerful man as her husband and became a member of their family. 

“Her man would go out hunting during the day while the women worked tirelessly in the fields. He brought home plenty of deer and bear. He was the best hunter in the village. And the women showed great skill at growing corn, so there was always plenty of corn bread and corn stew. Life was happy in the village. 

“Then one day, the man came back later than usual. His hands were cut and covered in blood, and his hair was tangled in knots. ‘The hunt today was difficult,’ he said. ‘The deer I found was quick. I shot but only wounded it. I prayed and followed it, but the deer ran to the sacred stream and ate the plants to heal its wound. Then it rolled in the sacred mud and the wound disappeared. I knew then that I was not to kill this one.’

“He returned to the hunting field and prayed for the spirits to help him find another deer. The next deer that came across the field was an old stag. It was huge and powerful. It stared at the man without fear, straight into his soul. He knew that this stag would be the one killed. It was a fine deer with large horns of great honor and a sleekness of spirit.  Suddenly, it leapt over the hedge and was gone. The man chased after it quickly, and soon found the tracks leading over the edge of a high cliff. But the man did not notice the cliff and fell over. His body was badly bruised, hands cut, legs ripped as he freed himself from the bush of thorns that broke his fall.

“He returned home and lay down on his bedroll with his head on his beautiful woman's lap. She stroked his hair, feeling the weariness of his spirit. He soon fell into a deep sleep. The woman then noticed that his body was changing . . . transforming. His breathing slowed. Unbelievably, while still sleeping, he gradually turned into a gigantic snake. The beautiful woman felt the hair she was stroking shrink to slimy, dark gray scales that covered his head. His long, forked tongue flicked out between his lips like a wriggling fish attempting to escape. His weight was too much for her. She carefully crawled out from under his massive, fanged head and ran outside. She ran straight into the man’s mother. She saw her fearful expression and told her ‘We are Serpent-People. We are good and wish you well. My son truly loves you; but if you feel that you can no longer stay here, then you should run away. But go quickly, for if my son wakes and knows that you have run from him, he will try to find you and make you return. So go now. And do not look back!’ 

“The beautiful woman ran. Her strong legs moved quickly at first, but then as she thought about her good man, and the kindness he showed her, she slowed down. She was confused. Her mind fought with her heart. She sat down to rest. She was tired and decided to close her eyes and pray. She had a dream. She dreamt that her vanity was what brought her into this problem and that her wisdom would get her home. She awoke in a thunderstorm. Rain was pouring down upon her.

“Thunder Spirit called out to her, and the deep, rolling voice was more than she could bear. She jumped up with her hands over her ears. The great voice echoed across the land.”

The old Indian man stood up at this point and jumped towards the smaller children and yelled, “RUN!”  This caused the children to flinch in fear and laughter while he told the story.

 "’Run now! The Snake-Man is behind you! He will catch you! And swallow you whole!’ The woman ran with all of her strength. The fear of her soul was pounding in her head. She heard the terrible rustling of the serpent-man slithering after her.  She ran until she had crossed the mountains, and soon she came to a lake near her old home; the snake-man still slithering after her, gaining with each step she took. There, standing by the lake, was another strong warrior holding a spear. She grabbed the spear from the warrior and threw it at the serpent. The spear pierced the snake’s body. All at once a roaring black cloud surrounded the woman. She looked back at the giant serpent and saw that he had turned back into the man she had fallen in love with, only now he had been mortally wounded. The spear was plunged deep into his chest.

     

     “The woman ran to him. ‘What have you done?’ he asked her. ‘Why kill me when you know how I love you?’ The woman had no answer. She was mortified. She had killed the only man she had ever loved. When she returned home and saw her reflection in the pond she realized that her beauty had left her. Her skin grew as wrinkled as mine, her hair as white as mine. She now warns other young people to look into the heart for beauty. For the day the serpent was pierced, her heart was pierced as well.”

--from Time Trip #3: 

Witness to the First Thanksgiving

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

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The Hunting Trip

          The first day of our hunting trip was a beautiful day to be outdoors. White, puffy clouds decorated the sky. The chirping and chattering of birds could be heard coming from all directions. The forest was filled with endless pine trees, ash, and maples. The abundance of green leaves and pine needles made it difficult for me to see too deep into the woods. I began to wonder how I would be able to shoot any arrows accurately in this thick environment.

          “These woods haven’t been cleared for years,” said Tisquantum. “The people who used to do the burning have all passed away from the plague.”

          “What do you mean, burning?” I asked.

          “They’ll burn part of the forest each season to keep it from growing too thick. If one part is burned one season, it will be left to regrow the following season while another part is burned.”

          “And now there aren’t enough people to do this?”

          “Not yet. And the forest can grow back quickly. Sometimes faster than a village can grow back.”

          
          “Eat no fish today,” Quadequina told me the day before we left, “for tomorrow we hunt.”

          “Why no fish?” I asked.

          “The deer can smell your breath,” he said. I thought he was joking, but he was dead serious. A few other men joined our hunting party, and none of them ate fish or smoked tobacco the day before we left. We woke up early on hunting day, and I took a bath in one of the cold creeks nearby. It was cold as ice, but it sharpened my senses. Our hunting party included Quadequina and Tisquantum, three other Pokanoket men, and Oguina. I found out that it actually wasn’t that rare for women to sometimes join a hunting party. If larger animals were killed, the women would help skin and butcher the beast on the spot and then help haul it back to the village.

          After our baths, we rubbed some musky-smelling leaves and flowers on our arms and legs and put on our breech-clouts. Wearing little clothing made us more sensitive to our surroundings and more apt to pay attention to rustling twigs or crunching leaves. We drank plenty of water, but ate just a small breakfast of maize and deer jerky.

          “Be always on the alert,” said Tisquantum. “Look for the deer in every object you see. A hundred deer will see you before you see one. When you find that one, you must act first.”

          We were blessed by the village shaman, and off we went, heading west into the trees. There was no speaking once we were far out from the village. I wore green and black face paint and had my hair and skin slicked with fresh oil to keep off the mosquitoes. We tracked quietly through the woods in a spread out rectangle formation. We used voiceless signals for communication such as sign language and low whistles. I was taught to walk with precision. Every step was checked. Every moving branch or spot of color in the forest was studied patiently, no matter how far off in the distance it was. We hunted up wind so the animals ahead couldn’t smell us while also trying to keep between the animals and the sun so we had the best light.
 

      Tisquantum told me earlier about some of the different methods the Pokanoket used to capture deer. It wasn’t always possible to simply track one down and shoot it with arrows. Ingenuity was often required. Sometimes the Indians would cover their heads with grass or reeds and then crawl up on a deer in the open until they were within fifteen or even ten yards, and then rise up to a kneeling position quickly and fire their arrows or throw a spear. Sometimes a group of Indians would encircle the deer from various directions, herding it towards a river or lake to trap it where it might be captured in a net or shot down.

          I started out that first trip with small targets. I tried hitting a squirrel. Then a bird. No success on either, but I was getting closer. We made camp on the first night in an open field and slept under the stars. We had a small fire pit where Quadequina roasted the squirrels that he and Oguina had killed. We unstrung our bows at night to keep the shape of both the bow and the sinew firm. The sinew had to constantly be checked for stretching because it was apt to loosen if it became wet or too hot. Checking our arrows each night was also a must because over the course of a day’s hike the feathers or heads might become unsettled or loose. While we attended to our gear, Tisquantum quietly told us stories about the amazing things he had seen in Europe, but I was so exhausted I fell asleep before he was finished.  

--from Time Trip #3: 

Witness to the First Thanksgiving

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

Available at Amazon.com!  

Fending off Wolves

Sometime later I was awoken by falling rain drops. They were big, fat ones that fell through the trees and landed on my forehead. I must have been asleep for a couple hours because the rest of the village had grown quiet. The only noise I could hear was the pattering of the rain hitting the ground and the huts. The pattering sound was quickly escalating in intensity and soon the rain had turned into a solid downpour.

My small campfire was extinguished. I ran over to take shelter under one of the maple trees when I heard what sounded like a child’s scream coming from deep within the forest. I listened for it again, but the rain was covering nearly every other noise. The forest was spooky dark, and the rain clouds had blacked out all light from the moon and stars.

Then I heard it again: a small child’s cry. I stood up and began slowly walking into the woods towards where I believed the cry had come from. If Kyla had been here she probably would have been warning me that it was a ghost. I didn’t believe in such nonsense. It sounded like a child crying for help and I wanted to make sure no one was in trouble.

I stepped through the woods, reaching out to the trees to guide my way. My eyes were somewhat adjusted to the darkness. I could at least make out shapes and silhouettes. I heard the cry again, this time followed by a command to go away. It was a young child’s voice, probably one of the five or six-year-old kids from the village.

I climbed up a small hill that was covered in mud, and when I reached the top I could see the child standing in the tall grass on the other side holding a tree branch above his head like a baseball bat.

“Go away!” he said again.

In the darkness it was difficult to tell, but there appeared to be a few shapes slowly moving towards the boy. Animals of some sort. I grabbed a stick from the ground next to me and threw it at one of the moving shapes. The animal flinched and looked back at me. I could tell now that it was a small pack of wolves: their ears high and pointy, their mouths scrunched up into snarls. There were four of them that I could count and they had surrounded the young boy from several directions.

I felt along the ground for something else to throw and I found a couple rocks about the size of eggs. I picked them up and threw one at the lead wolf like I was pitching little league. I think I hit it in the face because it yelped and jumped back.

I knew that animals could sense fear so I did all I could to express nothing but courage. Don’t be a coward now, Zammie. I also knew that wolves rarely attacked people, but that was during modern times. Maybe 400 years in the past things were different.

“Get outta here!” I yelled with every ounce of strength I could muster. I threw the second stone and hit the lead wolf again. This time they scattered and ran back into the forest.

I ran over to the little boy. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“No. But mother!” He pointed towards another person who was lying in the grass. I ran over to see it was the boy’s young mother. She had received a vicious bite wound above her right knee and she was bleeding badly. She also had bite wounds on her arms below the elbow. She had probably received those while trying to fend off the wolves.

I touched her neck to feel for a pulse and she opened her eyes.

“You’re alive!” Silly thing for me to say, but I wasn’t sure at first. “Can you walk?”

She tried to move her leg and she winced in pain. “My ankle.”

I looked down at her ankle and saw that it was swollen up like a baked potato. “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’re gonna get you home.”

--Fending off Wolves

from Time Trip #3: Witness to the First Thanksgiving

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

Available at Amazon.com!  

Now, Zammie! Shoot it now!

Tisquantum made a signal to me step back behind the large oak I was next to and prepare to shoot. Then he silently signaled to the other Indians to move to the far side of the deer. To do this, the three men crawled on their bellies like lizards. They moved slowly and deftly through the trees while the deer continued to feed in the open meadow. The sweat was dripping down the sides of my head and into my headband as I patiently waited. I breathed slowly, careful not to move a muscle. If I did anything to scare those deer off now I would lose all face before the others.

Once they had positioned themselves on the opposite side of the deer from me, Tisquantum and the other hunters jumped to their feet and began whooping and running towards the deer. Both deer looked to flee but they were surrounded on three sides so they began sprinting into the trees in the only direction available to them. Straight towards me.

I quickly realized what was happening. I readied my bow and kept hidden behind the oak. I peered around the tree and saw both deer bounding in my direction.

I gathered my nerve, stepped out from the tree, and took aim at the closest deer. It was the large buck. Man, it was a magnificent animal in motion, darting through the trees like a fish through water. Strong and powerful.

It was barely ten yards away. It saw me and changed its direction. 

Now, Zammie! Shoot it now!

I released the arrow and it zipped through the dangling tree leaves in a straight line. It found its target and landed flush into the upper neck of the deer. The animal’s legs buckled and it made a weird bleating sound that broke my heart before crashing headfirst into the ground. The female had also changed direction, and in an instant she had vanished into the forest.

Tisquantum and the other Indians swooped through the trees like lightning strikes and finished off the buck with a short spear before it had a chance to recover and run away. It was a huge animal, and every part of it would be used by the Natives: the meat and the innards to eat, the bladder was used as a pouch, the fur and skin for clothing, the antlers and hooves for decorative apparel, the sinews for sewing and bow strings, and even the bones would be used to create tools or toys.

“A good catch,” said Quadequina. He had been looking at the face and antlers attempting to determine the age. The arrow had penetrated right through the neck and was beginning to poke out on the opposite side.

My adrenaline levels had never been higher. My hands were trembling with energy and I swear I couldn’t feel the ground as I walked. 

-- Hunting Trip

from Time Trip #3: Witness to the First Thanksgiving

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4
KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com! 

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

Available at Amazon.com!  

You Stink!

“Kyla!” Zammie yelled when he first saw me. It was him! He ran over and gave me a hug. He was wearing a tanned leather deer skin like a small poncho and he had animal grease smeared all over his arms and green and white lines painted on his face.  

“You stink!” he told me after our embrace. “When was the last time you took a bath?”

“Hey! You’re not so clean yourself.” I thought for a second how long it had been since I had bathed, and I realized that I hadn’t at all. I had gone months without a bath as had just about everyone else. I’m sure we all reeked something horrible. “Have you been with the Indians all this time? I thought I was never going to find you!”

“I’ve been with them for months! They’ve taught me how to hunt, how to shoot a bow and arrow. They taught me about all the different trees and animals around here. It’s been better than summer camp.”

“What is all this?” asked Captain Standish.

“Apparently that’s her long lost cousin,” said Mr. Winslow.

         “So she is an Indian!” said Captain Standish. “I knew it all along." 

-- "You stink!" 

from Time Trip #3: Witness to the First Thanksgiving 

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 4

KILLING FOR COUNTRY  

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

Available at Amazon.com!  

Tisquantum's Journey

All stills from the film Squanto: A Warrior's Tale

On our long walk from Patuxet, Tisquantum had told me about his experience of being kidnapped by an Englishman named Thomas Hunt about seven years earlier. He was going to be sold into slavery in Spain along with nearly twenty other Indians. After a brutal cross-Atlantic venture, Hunt succeeded in selling off several of the Indians in Spain until a collection of Catholic friars were able to use what local political powers they had to free the remaining Patuxet natives from Hunt’s control. The friars brought these last few Indians to a monastery near the Spanish city of Malaga so they could be taught the Catholic faith.

Eventually, Tisquantum was able to talk one of the friars into helping him escape the monastery to England where he began living with a man named John Slaney in London.  That was where he began learning the English language. John Slaney worked for the Newfoundland Company which had been managing a colony in Newfoundland since 1610. Newfoundland is an eastern part of modern day Canada, just north of Maine. Mr. Slaney employed Tisquantum as an interpreter and sent him to Newfoundland to work with a sea captain named John Mason who was also the governor of the Newfoundland colony. Apparently, there were a lot of men named John during this time. 

          While in Newfoundland, Tisquantum met another captain named Thomas Dermer.  This time, Capt. Dermer was the one to hire Tisquantum as an interpreter in hopes that he could also act as a peacemaker between the English and the enraged Patuxet and Nauset Indians.  These Natives were still sore over having members of their tribes stolen from them. Capt. Dermer and Tisquantum returned to England to finalize their plans and then sailed back to Patuxet with high hopes of establishing peaceful commerce with the local Indian population. Instead they found most of the people dead from a disease that had ravaged the area while Tisquantum was away. The lack of meaningful contacts in the Cape Cod area caused Capt. Dermer to move on, but Tisquantum was developing his own ideas of how the tribes should be organized during this era of rebuilding.

Massasoit wasn’t convinced of Tisquantum’s pro-English arguments yet, but over the next few days Tisquantum would continue to build his case. Eventually the chief began to give in to Tisquantum’s point of view, especially with regards to the growing imbalance of power the people of Sowams had to deal with. The rising tributes being demanded by Canonicus was becoming unbearable. Maybe the white, hairy-faced visitors from the east could be useful to them after all. They just had to find a group willing to trade with the Natives.

-- Tisquantum's Journey 

from Time Trip #3: Witness to the First Thanksgiving

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

Available at Amazon.com!

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

Available at Amazon.com!