John Barth - The Sot-Weed Factor

"Father FitzMaurice was delighted, I feel certain, at the numbers of the heathen that he would quite reasonably assume had ne'er seen a Christian man before. Picture him handing 'round trinkets with his left hand and blessing their recipients with his right, and all the while, so Tacomon remembered, babbling in a tongue no man among them kenned. They loaded furs into his boat until at length he saw they took him for a trader, whereupon he gave each one a crucifix and doubtless tried to explain, by signs, the Passion of Our Savior.

"Anon this Tacomon, when he had scrutinized the crucifix, gave commands to one of his Wisoes, at the same time pointing to the cross. The man ran once more to the town and came back with a small wooden box, at sight of which all the salvages fell prostrate on the beach. Would not Father FitzMaurice guess the box contained some pagan relic sacred to the tribe? I see him rehearsing in his mind the pretty ceremony of casting their idol to the ground, as did Moses on descending from Mount Sinai, and wondering how much holy water 'twould want to baptize the lot.

"But alas for him, his trials were not yet done; the fact of the matter was, his virgin town had been deflowered years before by some trader passing through — and what was worse, by an arrant heretic Virginian! Tacomon fetched no Golden Calf from the box, but a leathern Bible, which was fronted with a woodcut of the Crucifixion. Just opposite (for I saw the book myself) the dedication ran: To the Most High and Mighty Prince James. . that the Church of England shall reap good fruit thereby. .! The King held the book aloft for all to see, whereon with one accord the assembled Indians sang by rote the Anglican Te Deum:

We praise thee, O God, we knowledge

thee to be Lord.

All the earth doth worship thee,

the father everlasting. .

The poor father must have come near swooning; in any case he snatched two or three crucifixes from Tacomon and his cawcawaassoughs, leaped into his boat, and did not pause to cross himself till he was out of arrowshot. As for the Indians, when they saw him shake his fist at them they took it for a fare-thee-well, which they returned with a reprise of their hymn."

"Luckless wretch!" laughed Ebenezer, and even Burlingame could not but smile and remark that the way of the saint is hard.

"When I had learnt this much of his misfortunes," said the priest, "I could not rest till I discovered his end. I made enquiries up and down the Province, but especially in lower Dorchester County, for I guessed that when his first try failed he would row farther south in search of heathen. For a long time my efforts bore no fruit. Then not many years past an Indian was brought to trial in Cambridge court on charges of killing an entire family of white folk, and, happening to have some business in the area, I took it upon myself to shrive the poor man of his sins. He would none of my services and was hanged anon, but in our bootless colloquy I learned, as't were by accident, the fate of Father Fitz-Maurice.

"The name of the salvage was Charley Mattassin. He was from a warlike band of Nanticokes that in time long past had crossed into the marshes of Dorchester and are said to live there yet in fierce seclusion. This Charley was in fact the Tayac's son, and for all he had run off with an English whore, that later was among the souls he murthered, he bore surpassing hatred for the English, which sentiment he owned was learnt from his father the Tayac. He contemned me in especial, when I went to him with holy water and crucifix to baptize and shrive him: he spat upon my cassock and declared his people had once burned a man like me upon a cross! I then enquired, Did he mean an Englishman? For I had heard of no such deed. And he replied, in essence, 'twas not merely an Englishman but a black-robed priest with crucifix and breviary, such as I, who with all his magic water could not cool the fire that burnt him. And what was yet more curious, this priest was Charley's own grandfather, so he declared, and was burnt by Charley's father."

"Out on't, this is incredible!" Ebenezer cried.

The priest agreed. "When I had heard it I put by my holy errand and implored him to tell me more. I shall answer for the Indian's soul to God, but i'faith, a good tale's worth a guilty conscience, is't not? Moreover, I can but think God sent me thither to hear't, for when 'twas done I knew the full and tragic tale of Father FitzMaurice. .

"When that sainted wight left Castlehaven, who knows how long he drifted south, or how many were his vain sallies ashore? What force save miracle could keep his craft afloat for hours and days in the lusty Chesapeake, and wash him at last to the wild rogue Nanticokes? As Charley told me, that had the tale by rote from the Tayac his father, some threescore autumns past a fearsome hurricane swept the marsh and washed a strange boat into the Indian town. In the boat, swooned dead away, was a black-frocked Englishman, haply the first they had laid eyes upon, and sundry brass-bound chests."

"Then in sooth 'twas no man else than Father FitzMaurice!"

"So said my heart on hearing it," replied the priest, "yet 'twas so wondrous a coincidence I scarce durst believe it. Howbeit, my informant's next words cleared all doubt: there was an old belief among his tribe, he said, that white-skinned men are treacherous as water-vipers, and should be massacred on sight. Yet so unusual was the aspect of this visitor, and so strangely was he brought into their midst, some feared he was an evil spirit bent on working mischief among them; and they feared this the more strongly inasmuch as his cassock looked like the black storm cloud, and on the transom of his boat was drawn the image of a bird!

"Anon they overcame their fear, inasmuch as the man seemed helpless, and whilst he lay still a-swoon they fetched him to a lodge and tethered his ankles with rawhide thongs. Then they broke open his chests and decked themselves with beads and crucifixes. When the prisoner awoke he knelt for a while with lowered head and then addressed them in a tongue they knew naught of. While the elders of the town held council on what to do with him, the younger men gave him food and stood about to watch his antics, which they thought supremely funny. He caught sight of the crucifixes from his chest and for some hours repeated a ritual of gesticulation, which though not a single salvage understood, it so pleased 'em that they practiced the gestures in turn, and passed them on to succeeding generations. E'en Charley Mattassin could recall them, that had learnt them from his father, and for aught I know his tribe performs 'em yet down in the Dorset marshes. Here was the first, as 'twas shown to me — see what you make of't."

Moving out from the table, Father Smith pointed to himself and then in quick succession plucked at his cassock, held up his crucifix, crossed himself, dropped to his knees in simulated prayer, jumped up, and stretched out his arms and raised his eyes in imitation of Christ on the cross.

"Methinks he meant to show he was a priest," said Burlingame.

"Aye!" the Laureate agreed excitedly. " 'Sheart, 'tis like a voice from the grave!"

"Yet not by half so clever as this next," the priest said.

"How's that? The salvages recalled e'en more?"

Father Smith nodded proudly. "That first was mere identification, but this: 'tis no less than Christian doctrine, done in signs! First came this — " He held up three fingers, which Ebenezer correctly interpreted as symbolizing the Holy Trinity.

"Then this — " After indicating the first of three, the priest stood on tiptoe and pointed skywards with his right hand, grasping with his left the area of his genitalia.

"Dear me!" laughed Burlingame. "I fear 'tis the Father in Heav'n!"