THE COLONISTS OF COLE'S HILL.
The next day both Carver and Bradford were forced to succumb under the
epidemic already raging among the colonists, and in another fortnight
the hospital and Common house were crowded to their utmost capacity with
the beds of the ill and dying. The terrible colds taken in the various
explorations, the vile food and bad air of the brig, with the want of
ordinary comforts on shore, were at last bearing their fruit in a
combination of scurvy, rheumatism, and typhoid fever of a malignant
type. On board ship matters were even worse than on shore, and Jones,
who would willingly have abandoned the settlers as soon as they were
debarked, found himself, perforce, a sharer in their distress through
the illness and death of his crew, and the danger of running short of
provisions.
The day came at length when of all the company, numbering a hundred and
one when they landed, only seven remained able either to nurse the sick
or bury the dead, and hour by hour, as these met about their complicated
duties, they studied each others faces, in terror of seeing the fatal
signs that yet one more was stricken down, and the annihilation of the
settlement one step farther advanced.
Of these seven, two were Elder Brewster and Myles Standish, and well did
they prove themselves fit to be rulers among the people, for they
became servants of all, without hesitation and without affectation,
nursing, cooking, dressing loathsome wounds, and ministering in all
those homely ways repugnant to refined senses, and especially, perhaps,
to the dignity of man. The doctor also kept on foot, although terribly
worn with sleeplessness, fatigue, and rheumatism; Peter Browne, none the
worse for his day and night in the woods, with Francis Eaton to help
him, took charge of digging the graves and burying the dead, already in
their silent colony along the brow of Cole's Hill, almost equaling their
yet suffering comrades. The two remaining sound ones were Stephen
Hopkins and Helen Billington, who, as the only female nurse, was called
upon to attend the sick women, so far as she could; this, of course,
gave but little time for each patient, and one night the doctor
hurriedly said to Standish,--
"Captain, wilt have an eye to-night to those two beds in the corner?
'T is Priscilla Molines and Desire Minter, both shrewdly burned with
fever, and needing medicine and care lest they should fall to raving
before morning. I'd not ask thee, knowing all thou hast on hand, but
goodwife Billington must not quit"--
"Nay, nay, what needs so many words," interrupted Standish. "Give me
their medicine and directions, I can care for them well enow and for
Bradford whose huckle-bone[4] giveth him sore distress to-night."
[4] Hip-bone.
"I doubt me if he wins through," said the Doctor softly; "and White and
Molines will never see the morning, and Mistress Winslow is going
fast--well, I leave the maids and Bradford to thee."
"Ay, I'll do my best," replied Standish briefly.
And so it came to pass that Priscilla Molines, moaning in her feverish
unrest, felt a moist linen laid upon her brow and a cup held to her
parched lips.
"Petite maman!" murmured she, and with those moistened lips kissed the
hand that held the cup.
Standish sadly smiled a little, and passed on to the next bed where lay
Desire Minter, not so ill, but far more requiring than Priscilla.
"Here is thy draught, child," said the nurse kindly, as he raised her
head and put the cup to her lips. Swallowing it eagerly, she lifted her
jealous eyes and with a smile half cunning, half pathetic, whispered,--
"I love thee too, but I think it not maidenly to kiss thee till I'm
asked."
"Nay, girl, thou 'rt dreaming or wild," said the Captain soothingly.
"She, poor maid, is distraught, and took me for her mother. She loves me
not, nor dost thou, nor do I ask any woman's love."
"Nay, then, thou 'rt mocking me. Thou dost love her, and she loves thee,
for I've heard her say as much; but still I know one that loves thee
better."
"If thou were not so ill, Desire, I'd find it in my heart to say--but
there, sleep poor child, sleep! Thou knowst not what thou sayst."
And Standish turned impatiently away to Bradford who suffered
excruciatingly that night with inflammatory rheumatism in the hip-joint.
The next morning Priscilla awaking refreshed, and for the moment quite
herself, found her neighbor weeping passionately, yet from time to time
regarding her in so peculiar a fashion that she said softly,--
"What is it, Desire? Art thou in sore pain?"
"It ill fits thee to pity me when it is thou that hast done me such
despite," whimpered Desire sullenly.
"I! what dost thou mean?"
"Why, I have ever liked our Captain since first I saw him, and now his
wife is dead and buried, why should he not marry me as well as another?"
"Why not, if it pleaseth him? I forbid not the banns," replied
Priscilla, the dim wraith of her old smile passing across her face.
"Why not? Because thou hast bewitched him, thou naughty sprite, and thou
knowest it."
"What dost thou mean, Desire? Speak out and done with it, for thou
weariest me sore," exclaimed Priscilla impatiently, while the fever
began to streak her pallid cheek and flame in her great eyes.
"Why, I saw you two kissing last night, and I suppose you're promised to
each other," muttered the other sulkily, and Priscilla, rising on her
elbow, fixed on her a glance beneath which the coward quailed, yet
sullenly murmured,--
"Well, you did!"
"Desire Minter, thou art lying, and thou knowest it, or else thy wits
are distraught, or mine."
"Ah, 't is well to try to edge out of it by brow-beating me, but thou
canst not. I saw you two kissing. When he first came in he went and
stood beside thy bed and looked down at it, biting at his beard, as is
his wont when he is moved; and then he fell upon his knees, whispering
something, and kissed the pillow, over and over, and when he stood up he
drew his hand across his eyes, and all for love of thee. So now, then!"
"Is that true, Desire? Can it be true that he cares for me in that
fashion?" asked Priscilla falling back bewildered, for she knew no more
than did Desire that hers was the bed where Rose Standish had breathed
her last sigh, and her husband had looked his last on her sweet face.
"Certes, 't is true, and thou knowest it better than I, for when, later
on, he came to give thee a drink and wet thy forehead and lips, thou
didst give him back his kiss right tenderly, and mutter something of
'love' and 'darling.'"
"I kissed Myles Standish!" cried Priscilla wildly.
"Ay, kissed the hand that held the cup, and when he came to me I told
him I had seen it all, and that I knew before that thou lovedst him."
"Thou saidst I loved him!"
"Ay, and he said he loved thee not, nor any woman, but 't was a blind,
for such a weary sigh as he fetched, and turned to look again at thee."
"I kissed him, and thou saidst I loved him, and he said he loved me
not!" cried Priscilla blindly; and then with a wild cry she burst into a
delirious laugh, ending in a shriek that brought Doctor Fuller from the
next room.
"What is this! what is toward!" demanded he glancing from Priscilla to
Desire, who replied in her sullen tones,--
"I know not, except that Captain Standish and Priscilla are sweethearts,
and I told her I saw them kissing last night, and haply she is shamed as
well she may be."
"And well mayst thou be doubly shamed," replied the doctor sternly, "to
torment her into frenzy with thy jealous fancies, and she already at
death's door. Thou sawest naught, whatever thou mayst have dreamed; and
mark me now, Desire Minter, I forbid thee to speak one word more, good
or bad, to Priscilla Molines while thou stayest here; and if thou
heedest not, I'll put thee in another house and leave thee to shift for
thyself."
Thoroughly cowed, the mischief maker promised obedience, and the doctor
turned to the delirious girl, whom he finally quieted to a moaning
sleep, in which he left her, muttering to himself as he went,--
"Not a month since his wife died in that bed--well--'t is no concern of
mine."
And so it came about that the idea of love between Priscilla and
Standish was planted in four active minds, and in time bore strange and
bitter fruit.
And so the gloomy days crept on, and the sufferers and the mourners of
the village which lay half-built beneath the hill passed on to take up
their dwelling in the village upon the bluff, where, silent pilgrims,
they lay, row upon row, hands meekly folded, lips close set, and eyes
forever shut, but yet attaining all that they sought in this their
pilgrimage, freedom from tyranny even of time and circumstance, freedom
to worship God in spirit and in truth.
When a conqueror or a tyrant decimates his captives or his subjects, the
world cries out in horror of such disregard of life, but in this
instance God spared one half His people from the sorrows and the
hardships they had come forth to seek, and gave them at once the reward,
for which their brethren still must toil. Of the hundred and one men,
women, and children, who followed Gideon to the battle, but fifty were
chosen to achieve the final conquest.
Among those who survived for a little time was John Goodman, who, after
lying for weeks at death's door, came slowly back for a while, and in
the early spring crept out in the sunshine with the faithful Pike at
his heels. Trying his strength from day to day, he at last hobbled down
to the brook and across, but was no sooner beyond hail of the village
than two great gray wolves, stealing from a thicket, sprang upon the
dog, who, not so venturesome as Nero, ran to take refuge between her
master's still tender feet, causing them not a little pain.
"Fool! Again without a weapon!" exclaimed John apostrophizing himself,
and picking up a good-sized stone he threw it, with a shout, at the
foremost wolf, who retreated snarling to the bushes. Stumbling back
toward the village as fast as he could, Goodman came presently to a pile
of stout palings cut for fencing, and arming himself with one cast an
anxious look behind. It was time, for the wolves, recovering courage as
he retreated, were in full pursuit, with glaring eyes and lolling
tongues.
Ordering Pike to crouch behind him, the young fellow stood at bay,
hooting, shouting, and waving his stave in a semicircle, within whose
sweep the creatures were not anxious to intrude. Weary at length of
trying to surprise the fortress by a flank movement, yet reluctant to
abandon the hope of seizing Pike, the wolves finally seated themselves
upon their haunches at a little distance and seemed to consult, grinning
and snapping their teeth from time to time at the spaniel, who cowered
almost into the ground, whimpering piteously, while her master leaned
upon his paling and laughed aloud, an insult to which the wolves
responded by throwing back their heads and uttering howls like those of
a dog baying the moon. Then suddenly leaping into the bushes they
disappeared as quickly as they came, leaving Goodman, still chuckling,
to resume his path to the village.
"We'll have a merry tale for Peter Browne this evening, won't we, Pike!"
But while the brave young fellow climbed the little hill from the brook
to The Street, this smiling expression gave place to one of
consternation, as he beheld a column of smoke and flame issuing from the
roof of the house set apart as hospital, and heard a terrified shout
of,--
"Fire! Fire!"
"Fire! Fire!" echoed Goodman running toward the spot as fast as his
tender feet would allow.
Sounder men were before him, however, and when he arrived a ladder was
placed against the side of the burning house, and Alden, with Billington
at his heels, was about to mount it, when Brewster exclaiming,--
"Here's no place for sick men," pushed both aside, ran up the ladder,
and tearing the blazing thatch from the roof flung it down in handfuls
so rapidly and effectually that in five minutes the threatened
conflagration was subdued to smoking embers and a few fugitive flames
here and there, where already the fire had fastened upon the poles laid
to support the thatch. Some buckets of water passed up by the little
crowd below soon extinguished these, and then the Elder, peeping down
through the damaged roof into the room below, cried cheerily,--
"All is safe, friends, and no great harm done."
"God be praised!" exclaimed Bradford's voice from within, and Brewster
softly said, "Amen!" as he descended the ladder less easily than he had
mounted it. At the foot he encountered Doctor Fuller, who with Standish
had just been to Cole's Hill arranging for another line of graves.
"Let me see your hands, Elder," demanded the physician in his usual dry
fashion.
"No need,'t is naught. Go look after your sick folk," replied the Elder
trying to push past, but Fuller caught him by the sleeve, exclaiming
sharply,--
"A man whose hands are needed for others as oft as thine are, has no
right to let them become useless, and 't is not in reason but they are
burned."
"You're right, Fuller, and I'm but a froward child," said Brewster, a
sudden smile replacing the frown of pain upon his face, and obediently
opening out his burned and bleeding palms. "Come to the Common house, so
as not to fright my wife within there, and do them up with some of your
wonderful balsam."
"And were it not for thought of your work, you would not have let me see
them," said Fuller glancing from under his penthouse brows with a look
of cynical admiration.
"One cannot give thought to every pin-prick with such deadly sickness on
all sides," replied Brewster simply. "Best go into the hospital and see
if thy poor dying folk have taken any harm of the fright before thou
lookest after me."
"The Captain has gone into the sick-house. I'll hold on to you,"
returned the Doctor curtly, and Brewster yielded with his ever gracious
smile.
That evening as the Elder with his bandaged hands, Carver, gaunt and
pale from an attack of fever, Standish, Winslow, John Howland, and
Doctor Fuller sat at supper in the Common house, Master Jones, followed
by a sailor heavily laden, presented himself at the door.
"Good e'en, Masters, and how are your sick folk?" demanded he, in a
would-be cordial voice.
"Thanks for your courtesy, Master Jones," replied the governor with
grave politeness. "They are doing reasonably well, except some few who
do not seem like to mend in this world."
"And Master Bradford? Sure he is not going to die?" pursued Jones in a
voice of strange anxiety, as he sank into the great arm-chair Carver had
proffered him.
"He is as low as a man can be and live," broke in the doctor gruffly, as
he fixed Jones with a glance of angry reproach, beneath which even that
rough companion quailed.
"He sent aboard yesterday begging a can of beer," blurted he, his brown
face reddening a little.
"Yes," replied the governor sternly, "and you made answer that though it
were your own father needing it, you would not stint yourself."
"I said it, and I don't deny it," retorted Jones with a feeble attempt
at bluster. "But any man has a right to change his mind if he find
cause, and I've changed mine as you will see, for I've brought not a
can, but a runlet of beer for Bradford, and any others who crave it and
are like to die wanting it; and when that is gone if Master Carver will
send on board asking it for the sick folk, he shall have it though I be
forced to drink water myself on the voyage home. I'll have no dead men
haunting me and bringing a plague upon the ship."
"Truly we are greatly beholden to you, Master Jones," began Carver in
great surprise, but the mariner raised his hand and continued,--
"Nay, hear me out, for that's not all. I went ashore to-day and shot
five geese, and here they are, all of them, not one spared, though I
could have well fancied a bit of goose to my supper, but I brought all
to you, and more than that, even, for here is the better half of a buck
we found in the wood ready shot to our hand. The Indians had cut off his
horns and carried them away, and doubtless were gone for help to carry
the carcase home when we came upon it; haply they saw us coming and made
a run for it; at all odds they had left him as he fell, and Sir Wolf was
already tearing at his throat so busily that he knew not friends were
nigh, until a bullet through his head heralded our coming. So here are
the haunches for you, and I content myself with the poorer parts."
Taking the articles named from a bag which the sailor had at his
direction laid upon the floor, Jones ranged them in an imposing line in
the centre of the room, and resuming his chair looked at his hosts still
in that conciliatory and half timid manner so utterly new to them and
foreign to his usual demeanor.
"We are, indeed, deeply beholden to you, Master Jones," said Carver at
length in his grave and courteous tones. "But if I may freely speak my
thought, and if I read my brethren's minds aright, we cannot but muse
curiously upon this sudden and marvelous change in your dealings with
us, and would fain know its meaning."
"Feeling certain that Master Jones is not one to give something for
nothing, and so in common prudence wishing to know at the outset what
price he expects for bearing himself in Christian charity, as he seemeth
desirous to do," suggested Standish with more candor than diplomacy.
"Thou 'rt ever ready with thy gibes on better men than thyself, art
not?" exclaimed Jones turning angrily upon him. For reply Standish
leaned back in his chair, pulled at his red beard, and laughed
contemptuously; but Winslow hastily interposed with a voice like oil
upon the waves.
"Our captain will still have his jest upon all of us, Master Jones, but
in truth as the governor hath said, we cannot but admire at this
wonderful generosity on thy part, and fain would know whence it
ariseth."
"Why, sure 't is not far to seek," replied Jones with a hideous grimace
intended for a conciliatory smile; "we have ever been good friends, have
we not, and you all wish me well, as I do all of you. Certes, none of
you would try to bring evil upon our heads, lest it fall upon your own
instead, for still those who wish ill to others fall upon ill luck
themselves. Is it not so, Elder?"
"Art speaking of Christian doctrine, or of heathen superstition, Master
Jones?" inquired the Elder fixing his mild, yet penetrating eyes upon
the seaman, who slunk beneath their gaze.
"Nay, then!" blustered he rising to his feet, "I came hither when I
would fain have stayed in my own cabin aboard, and I came not to chop
logic nor to be put to the question like a malefactor, but to bring help
to my sick neighbors, who, to be sure, cried out for it lustily enough
before they got it, but now pick and question at my good meat and drink
as if 't were like to poison them. Well, that's an end on 't, and you
can take it or leave it, as you will. Good e'en to you."
"Nay, nay, Master Jones," interposed Carver hastily, as the angry man
made toward the door. "Let us not part thus, especially in view of thy
great kindness toward us, for which, in good sooth, we are more
grateful than we have yet expressed. Let pass the over curious queries
we have ventured, and sit up at the table for a little meat and drink,
such as it may be. Here is some broiled fish, and here some clams"--
"I care not for eating, having finished mine own supper but now,"
grumbled Jones sinking back into Carver's arm-chair; "still if you'll
broach yon runlet of beer I'll taste a mug on 't, for my throat is as
dry as a chimbley."
"The beer is for our sick folk who crave it as they gather their
strength," said Carver pleasantly; "but we have here a case of strong
waters of our own, if that will serve thy turn."
"Why, ay, 't will serve my turn better than t' other," replied Jones
drawing his hairy hand across his mouth with an agreeable smile, as he
added,--
"I did but ask for the beer, thinking you who are well needed the
spirits for yourselves."
"We can spare what we need for ourselves more lightly than what we need
for others," said Carver in that grand simplicity of nature which fails
to perceive the magnificence of its own impulses. And from a shelf above
his head the governor took a square bottle of spirits, while Howland
poured water from a kettle over the fire into a pewter flagon, and
produced a sugar bason from a chest in the corner of the room. These,
with a smaller pewter cup, he placed before the seaman who eagerly mixed
himself a stiff dram, drank it, and prepared another, which he sipped
luxuriously, as leaning back in his chair he looked slowly around the
circle of his entertainers, and finally burst forth,--
"The plain truth is, there are no folk like these in any latitude I've
sailed, and a man must deal with them accordingly. 'T is what I told
Clarke and Coppin before I came ashore. What men but you would give
another what you want yourselves, and lacking it may find yourselves in
worse case than him you help? And 't is not all chat, for still I've
marked it both afloat and ashore, and the poor wretches you've left in
the ship will pluck the morsel from their own lips to put it to
another's.
"So it is, that with all your losses, a kind of good luck aye follows
you, and I shall not marvel if, in the end, you build up your colony
here, and see good days when I am--well, it matters not where--I doubt
me if priests or parsons know. But they who flout you or do you a
churlish turn find no good luck resting on them, but rather a
curse,--yea, I've marked that too. 'T is better to be friends than foes
with some folk."
"'Timeo Daneos et dona ferentes,'" quoted Winslow in the ear of Elder
Brewster, who sat watching the sailor curiously, and now suddenly
said,--
"And so thy shipmen are very ill too, Master Jones!"
"Lo you, now! I said naught of it, and how well you knew. What dost
mean, Elder?"
"Naught but friendly interest like thine own," replied the Elder gently,
yet never removing that steadfast gaze, beneath which Jones fidgeted
impatiently, and finally cried in a sort of desperate surrender,--
"Well, then, as well you know already, 't is that matter brought me here
to-night. My men have sickened daily, and everything hath gone awry,
since we bundled you and your goods ashore a month or so agone, when
some of you were fain to tarry aboard, or at least leave your stuff
there, and come and go."
"But thou wast afeard we should drink thy beer by stealth. Nay, thou
saidst it," declared Standish disdainfully.
"Well, yes, I'll not go back of saying it," retorted Jones half abashed
and half defiant. "For where else shall you find me men who will drink
water if another man hath beer where they may get it?"
"We heard from our friends on board that scurvy had broken out among the
shipmen," said Carver motioning Standish to hold his peace.
"Scurvy, and fever, and rheumaticks, and flux, and the foul fiend
knoweth what beside," replied Jones desperately. "Now Clarke hath still
been warning me that you were so sib with the saints"--
"Nay, God forbid!" ejaculated Brewster.
Jones looked at him in astonishment, then nodding his head as one who
yields a point he cannot understand continued: "Well, if not the saints,
whosoever you have put in their room; but Clarke says you are e'en like
the warlocks of olden time who called fire out of heaven on their
enemies, and it came as oft as they called; and he says Master Brewster
is like some Messire Moses who dealt all manner of ill to those who
crossed him; and I marked, and so did Clarke, how yester morn when I
denied Bradford the beer he craved, and answered the governor in so
curst a humor, three men fell ill before night, and two, who were
mending, died in torment. And Clarke said, and so it seemed most like to
me, that 't was you had done it, and might yet do worse; and so I would
fain be friends, and I come myself to bring the beer and the meat, and
I'll promise to do as much again and again; nay, I'll swear it by the
toe of St. Hubert, that my mother paid gold to kiss for me or ever I
was born, yea, I'll swear it, if you masters will take off the curse,
and promise to say masses, nay, nay, to say sermons and make mention of
me to the Lord."
"Knowest thou what the Apostle Peter said to one Simon Magus when he
would have bought the grace of God for gold?" demanded Brewster sternly.
"Nay, I never knew any of thy folk before," replied Jones humbly; but
Winslow consulting the pacific governor with his eyes smoothly
interposed,--
"Surely we will pray for thee and for thy men, Master Jones, albeit our
prayers have no more weight than those of any other sinful men, and our
Elder hath neither the power nor the will to bring plagues upon our
enemies. There is naught of art-magic in our practices, I do assure
thee, master."
"Well, I know not; but in all honesty I'd rather be friends than foes
with men like you."
"And friends we are most heartily," said Carver. "Our folk on board are
still mending, are they not?"
"Rigdale and Tinker are yet in bed, and their wives wait upon them, hand
and foot, though fitter to be in their own beds. And not only on them,
but now and again find time to run and give a drink or some such
tendance to our men lying groaning at the other side the bulkhead. You
mind that knave boatswain who still scoffed and swore at thy prayers,
Elder, and so grievously flouted the first who fell sick among you?"
Brewster nodded, and Standish bringing his clenched fist down upon the
table growled,--
"I mind him so well that I've promised him a skin full of broken bones
the first time I catch him ashore."
"Then thou 'lt be glad to know that he lies a-dying to-night," replied
Jones with horrible naïvété.
"Dying!"
"No question on 't; and this morning as he lay groaning in sore
distress, and calling upon one and another to wait on him, and none had
time or stomach for it, goodwife Rigdale came to the caboose for a
morsel of meat after her night's watch, and hearing him she cried,
'Alack, poor soul!' and hasted to him with the very cup she was just
putting to her own lips. The dog fastened to it, I promise you, and
drank every drop, then gazing up at her asked a bit too late,--
"'Hast any left for thyself?'
"She smiled on him with that white face she wears nowadays and said,--
"'Nay, but thou 'rt more than welcome.' Then says Master Boatswain, not
knowing that I heard him,--
"'Oh, if I was set to get over this, as well do I know I am not, I would
ask no better than to join your company and forswear all I have held
dear. For now do I see how true Christians carry themselves to each
other when they are in trouble, while we heathen let each other lie and
die like dogs.'
"So the poor wench, fit to drop as she was, knelt and began praying for
him, and I stole away."
"But do not those men care one for another in their sickness?" asked
Brewster indignantly.
"As yonder wolf tended upon the dying buck," replied Jones with a
careless laugh. "To drink his blood while it was warm was his chief
care, and my men part the gear of their dying messmates before their
eyes. Why, one of the quartermasters, Williams, thou knowest, would fain
have hired Bowman, the other quartermaster, to befriend him to the last,
and promised him all his goods if he should die, and money if he got
well; but the knave did but make him two messes of broth, and some kind
of posset to drink o' nights, and then left him, swearing all over the
ship that Williams was cozening him by living so long, and he would do
no more for him though he starved, and yet the poor soul lay a-dying
then."
"And Bowman had his goods?" demanded Howland sternly.
"Ay had he, or ever the breath was out of the body. Then there was
Cooper, who died cursing and swearing at his wife, and her spendthrift
ways, that wasted all his wage and still sent him to gather more. And
there was the gunner whose whole thought was that he must quit his gear,
and would have his chest stand where he could see it, and the key under
his pillow to the last; and when one of your men asked would he listen
to a bit of a prayer he bawled out with a curse, 'Nay, what profit was
there in prayers, or who would pay him for hearkening.'
"I tell you, masters, 't is the worst port ever I made, and albeit I'm
not a man of dainty or queasy stomach, it turns me sick to see and hear
such things, and know that I'm master of a crew bound for hell though we
called it Virginia."
"Mayhap if the Mayflower's crew had used more diligence in seeking to
land us in Virginia they had not themselves made the port thou speakest
of," said Standish bitterly, while Carver, sighing profoundly, pushed
back from the table in sign that the conference was ended, but said in a
voice of unfeigned friendliness,--
"Truly, Master Jones, thou needest and shall have our kindliest
sympathy, and our prayers, for this that you tell of is a fearful
condition, and a fatal for both body and soul, and well may you call
upon Almighty God for pardon and for mercy. If any of your men are fain
to come on shore we will receive them and give such tendance as we do to
our own, and right certain am I that those of our company yet on board
will do all that they are able for you. Forgetting the past, about which
we might justly murmur if we would, we are ready in your necessity to
reckon you as brothers, and to spend and to be spent in your service, as
God giveth ability.
"Will it please thee to tarry while we hold our evening devotions, and
join thy prayers to ours, that the Lord will have mercy upon all of us?"
"Yes, I'll tarry, though 't is not greatly in my way. Haply He might
take it amiss if I went," muttered Jones looking about him uneasily,
while Carver regarded his hopeless neophyte with divine compassion, and
Elder Brewster prayed long and fervently that not only the children
should be fed, but that the dogs might eat of the crumbs that fell from
the table, and that in the end even the sons of Belial might be forgiven
their blindness and hardness of heart, and receive even though
undeservingly the uncovenanted mercies of God.
Fortunately for his good intentions the object of many of these
petitions quite failed to comprehend them, and when the devotion was
over rose and went away far more gently than he had come.