answered the other, "but now I'm sure of it. I can almost see the
breakers on the shore. Do you know, Priscilla, that that's where you
and I are to live and that we may never see England again?" Her hand
tightened on her friend's and her dark eyes turned towards her.
"Our home!" murmured Priscilla softly. "It looks bleak enough from
here. I hope we find it pleasant country inland."
All over the _Mayflower_ men and women were pointing out the shore
to one another and calling it their home. They had come from England to
find a land where they might worship God in their own way, and had
sailed over the wide and stormy Western sea to found a new colony in
this new and almost unknown land.
Columbus had had great faith when he held his course to the west in
spite of the protests of all his men, but these simple Pilgrims had no
less faith when they started out to make a new home in an unexplored
continent where other settlers had already met with famine, pestilence,
and savage redmen. They were a brave, deeply religious people, ready to
stand the hardships that lay in wait for them, confident that God was
with them and that they were doing what was right for them to do. This
was the spirit that had given them courage to face many difficulties,
for already they had met with troubles that would have daunted less
determined people. They had had two ships when they had sailed from
Southampton on the fifth of August, 1620, but at the very outset the
smaller vessel, the _Speedwell_, had sprung a leak, and had to put
back to port. A second time the two ships had started, but again the
_Speedwell_ proved unseaworthy, and they had returned to Plymouth.
This time there were disputes among the officers and some of the men
had left, but the _Mayflower_ had sailed at last on September sixth
with one hundred and two on board. Then they had met with bad weather,
so that instead of reaching the new world in the autumn as they had
planned, it was already November before they sighted the shore of
America. It took brave, persevering spirits to face the odds that
stood in front of them.
Presently a young man came up to the two girls. "We're farther north
than we thought to land," said he. "The Dutch settlements lie to the
south. But they've decided to try this place now we're here, and by
night some may set foot on shore."
"Do you think we can go in the first boat, John?" asked Mary Chilton
eagerly.
John Alden shook his head. "Only a few of the men are to land with
Miles Standish. They're to explore and come back to report. There may
be Indians settled about here."
"I wish I were a man," sighed Mary.
"There'll be plenty for girls to do once we're ashore," answered John.
"We've waited a month," put in Priscilla. "I guess we can wait a few
days more to land."
John Alden moved away to examine his matchlock gun for the hundredth
time, and the two girls, who were close friends, tried to wait as
patiently as they could while the _Mayflower_ drew in towards shore.
They went down to the cabin for their simple dinner and then returned
on deck. Now the land stretched before them in a clear line, a low,
barren shore that looked of little promise. The chill November day made
the country seem most inhospitable, and many on board were already
homesick for the green fields and flowering meadows of England. Mary
Chilton and Priscilla Mullins moved about among the women and children,
cheering them with their own hopefulness.
By nightfall the _Mayflower_ had rounded a point of the coast and
come into a small land-locked harbor, where it seemed as if a thousand
vessels might find safe anchorage. Here the shores appeared more
promising, and many eager eyes strained through the dusk to see what
the site of their future home might be like. It was too dark to send
explorers ashore, so the _Mayflower_ dropped anchor, and the Pilgrims
prepared to go to bed. Before they slept they gathered in the cabin and
with bent heads listened to John Carver give thanks to God that they
had been brought safely across the sea and in sight of their promised
land.
Next day Priscilla and Mary watched Captain Miles Standish and a score
of men lower the shallop and set out towards shore. John Alden smiled
up at the girls as they hung over the rail, and they waved their
kerchiefs to him and to the ruddy-faced Captain Standish who stood up
in the bow to direct the shallop's course. Then they had to wait as
patiently as they could to learn what the explorers might report.
Standish's party spent two days exploring the land about the harbor,
which formed the tip of what we now call Cape Cod. They found that the
land was fertile, as was shown by the fact that the Indians had cleared
much of the ground for planting and had left a magazine of corn. They
caught a distant glimpse of a few Indians, but the latter fled as soon
as they saw Captain Standish's men.
When the explorers returned to the _Mayflower_ and made their report
the leaders of the Pilgrims were in two minds as to whether to settle
on this shore or to seek another site farther to the west. Those who
wanted to settle here spoke of the good harbor for ships, the fact that
the Indians had already tilled the soil, and the chances that they
might find good whale fishing off the coast. They added that they were
tired with the long sea voyage and unfit to go further, and that with
winter almost at hand exploration would be very difficult. But the
others objected that it would be unwise to settle permanently without
having looked a little farther to the west, and the larger number of
the leaders agreed with this view. Therefore on the next day the
shallop was sent out again with eighteen men on board to explore more
of the coast. Eight men stayed on the shallop while the rest landed and
went along the shore. Their journey lasted three days, and on the third
morning the land party had just started to eat breakfast by their
camp-fire when suddenly they heard a series of wild war-cries, and a
shower of arrows struck all about them. At the same time Indians in
ambush on the beach sent their arrows at the men in the small boat.
Captain Standish and his men seized their muskets and in a moment more
the Indians were flying before the fire that leaped from the muzzles.
Not one of the Pilgrims was wounded, and soon they were on their way
along the shore again, this time more careful to keep a watch for the
hidden redmen. Presently they embarked in the shallop and sailed across
the bay, reaching a place nearly opposite the point of Cape Cod. Here
they found fertile land, a good supply of water, and a protected
harbor. It seemed the ideal spot for which they had been looking, and
they decided to make their new home here. The Indian name of this
place, Accomac, had already been changed to Plymouth, which it happened
was also the name of the English seaport from which the Pilgrims had
finally set sail.
The people on board the _Mayflower_ eagerly hailed the returning
explorers. They were growing impatient at being kept on the ship when
the land stretched invitingly before them. Priscilla and Mary, with the
rest, heard Captain Standish tell of the place he had discovered, and
shortly afterward they themselves saw it from the vessel's deck. Now
all was excitement. The different families made ready to leave the ship
which had been their home for nearly seven weeks and set up their
household goods on shore. In the first boat load went Priscilla and
Mary Chilton, and Mary was the first woman to set foot on Plymouth
soil. The two girls looked about them, at the long beach, the cleared
corn land, and the high hill beyond with its commanding view over the
wide bay. Priscilla turned to her father. "How strange that this should
be our home!" said she. "And yet I feel almost a love for it already."
"I pray you may, my daughter," he answered, "for it is like to be the
only home any of us are henceforth to know."
If it had taken courage to face the perils of the sea it took scarcely
less to face those of the new land. It was already December and growing
more and more cold with each day. Their store of provisions was almost
gone, and there could be no harvest here until spring. Some of the
women and children were sick, and none knew how the Indians might look
upon their coming. But the little band of Pilgrims set to work with
stout hearts, determined to carry out the purpose on which they had
started. They chose John Carver Governor and Miles Standish Captain of
their troops, and set to work to build log houses for the winter's
shelter.
Priscilla was strong and she helped her father in his work during that
long hard winter. There was plenty for all to do, but many had not the
strength to accomplish what was needed. There was a great deal of
illness and very little good food. The weather made it almost
impossible for the men to hunt or to find wild fruits, and they had
neglected to bring fishing-tackle with them. Their provisions were eked
out with shellfish, but it was hard to gather these in the cold water.
Other colonies in the new world had already been forced to give up
their homes in fear of starvation, but this band held on, although half
their number died, and at one time there were only seven who were not
sick. Fortunately the Indians gave them little trouble. One day one of
them walked into the village and spent the night there, showing
friendliness, although Captain Standish watched him closely, having
little faith in his pretensions. A day or two later he returned
bringing five others, and then there came another named Tis quantum,
who had once been taken as a prisoner to London, and who understood
something of the strange white people and their ways. With his aid a
treaty was made with Massasoit, the chief of the Indians in that part
of the country, and each side agreed to live in harmony and concord
with the other. Many of the Indians already had a superstitious fear of
the men from across the sea, not only on account of their wonderful
"fire-tubes" but for another reason. Some Indians had a few years
before captured a French trading-ship, and killed all the crew but
five, whom they kept as prisoners. One of these had warned the redmen
that the God of the white people would not let these wrongs go without
some punishment, and very soon afterward pestilence had broken out on
the coast and killed many of the Indians who lived there. Those who
survived recalled the Frenchman's words and believed that pestilence
was a weapon like the "fire-tube" which the white men kept in their
camps to use against their enemies. Therefore they were very careful
how they treated these new arrivals who had settled at Accomac.
But if the winter was hard and starvation stared them in the face and
sickness was rife in Plymouth the Pilgrims worked on, confident that
they were doing the will of God. This was the spirit of young as well
as of old, and the thought that must often have cheered Priscilla as
she looked from the door of the rude log-cabin over leagues of snow to
a lowering sky. But there were bright hours even in that first winter.
Sometimes Captain Standish or John Alden or others of the men would
bring logs of red cedar from the near-by forest to the Mullins cottage
and pile them on the hearth. Then they would have a great fire and all
the family would gather round it, and neighbors, seeing the smoke,
would come through the path cut in the deep snow to the Mullins door
and join in the warmth and the stories at the hearth. Many a day
Priscilla and Mary spent at the spinning-wheel, talking of old
play-mates in England while their feet kept the wheels going and the
carded wool piled up about them on the floor. At other times, when the
weather was clearer, they would go down to the beach and walk its
length until they came to a great rock. There they would sit and talk
of what they would do when summer came and the sea should be calm and
the woods full of wild flowers. Sometimes they would sing, for both
girls had good voices, sending the words of the old hymns of the
Pilgrims far out across the breakers. Slowly the winter passed and
Priscilla had her first taste of spring in New England.
Hope sprang up fresh in the hearts of these Pilgrims as they saw the
snows melt and the days grow longer. They began to build bigger and
stronger houses and to prepare the fields for crops. Whenever they
could be spared from home Priscilla and Mary and the few other girls in
the village went out to the woods. There the trees were putting forth
their buds, and one day they came upon a fragrant rose-colored flower
which they had never seen before and which they named the Mayflower.
Soon the woods were full of them, and the girls gathered armfuls to
take back to their log homes. Beyond the circle of green woods they
found many ponds and on their banks another white and red flower called
the azalea, and in the water were wide lily pads and still farther
beyond bushes of the soft snowy pink-hued laurel. In the evenings they
would climb to the hill back of Plymouth and, seated there, look over
the tiny gathering of houses to the open bay where the light high up in
the rigging of the _Mayflower_ shone like a planet low down in the
sky. There they would talk of England, and of how by this time the
hawthorne must be in bloom and the hedgerows all in blossom and the
small stone churches mantled in ivy and the lark singing as he soared
above the tower. But although they talked much about England, they were
already very fond of their new home, and when they heard that the
_Mayflower_ was to sail back to England they did not say that they
would like to sail on her.
The _Mayflower_ left in the early spring and at nearly the same time
John Carver, the first Governor, died. The settlers chose William
Bradford Governor in his place. Building and farming was now
progressing rapidly and the town began to take definite shape. It stood
on rising ground only a short distance from the beach. Two streets
crossed one another and where they met stood the Governor's house with
an open common in front of it. Four cannon were placed in the common,
one pointing down each of the four streets. A little above the town
they built a big house, which was used as a church, as a public
storehouse for provisions, and also as a fort. Here were more cannon,
and here the settlers gathered with their matchlocks whenever there was
an alarm of Indians. The settlers' dwelling-houses were simply big log
huts, each standing in its own enclosed piece of ground. Round the
whole settlement ran a heavy palisade, open in front towards the ocean,
but guarded on the other three sides by gates. Beyond the palisade lay
the farming land, divided into many small patches of corn fields. The
whole village was like one big family, all equally concerned in the
common lot.
The men of Plymouth were more fortunate in their dealings with the
Indians than those of Virginia had been. At the very start they had won
Massasoit, chief of the Pokanokets, to their side, and now they had a
chance to strengthen that tie. Word came to Governor Bradford that the
Indian chief was very ill and that his native doctors could do nothing
for him. The Governor sent Edward Winslow to the chief, and he, knowing
far more of medicine than the Indians did, was able to cure Massasoit
in a short time. The chief was very grateful and vowed that if ever the
men of Plymouth should need his aid he would come instantly with all
his braves to help them. But other chiefs were not so friendly, and
soon after Canonicus, chief of the Narragansetts, a tribe that was
always warring with the Pokanokets, took offense at the alliance
between his enemies and the white men. He sent a messenger to Governor
Bradford, carrying a bundle of arrows wrapped in a rattlesnake's skin.
An Indian who happened to be in Plymouth told the Governor that the
message meant hostility on the part of the Narragansetts. The Governor
threw away the bundle of arrows and sent the skin back filled with
powder and balls. This threat from the settlers frightened Canonicus
and he would not take the war-path against them. Realizing that they
were not to be dismayed, he sent other messengers to treat with them,
and arranged to trade with them in corn and furs.
So far Priscilla's life had been much like that of the other girls of
Plymouth, patient, enduring, brave, but with few adventures except such
as fell to the whole colony of Pilgrims. Now her life became more
dramatic. The valiant, vigilant captain of the colony, Miles Standish,
wanted her to be his wife.
Miles Standish was not by nature like the men who had crossed the sea
with him to find a home. He was a soldier first and foremost, a man who
had quarreled with his family in England and gone forth to seek his
fortune with his sword. He had been in many battles, he had married,
and at last, hearing of the Pilgrims' plans to sail for America he had
decided to throw in his lot with theirs. They had made him their
captain and he had proved himself a good one, and he had become one of
the leading men, and one of the most popular in Plymouth. But the
weather was too severe for his fair English wife Rose, and she had died
soon after they landed. A year later he found that he had lost his
adventurous soldier's heart to the pretty Priscilla Mullins.
Captain Standish knew that he was readier with sword and musket than
with the words to win a young girl's love. He was much perplexed as to
what he should do until he thought of his friend John Alden, who was
quick of wit, and ready of tongue and pen, and who had before now
written many a letter for the Captain. So he went to John Alden and
begged him in the name of their friendship to call upon Mr. Mullins and
ask him if he would give his daughter's hand to the Captain, and if he
agreed then to plead his cause with Priscilla.
John and Priscilla had been brought up together and were close friends,
and when the Captain made his request of John the youth discovered that
he himself was in love with Priscilla. But he felt in honor bound to do
what the Captain asked of him, and so, with a heavy heart he went to
the Mullins house. Priscilla's father listened while John asked if
Miles Standish might have his consent to marry his daughter, and at the
end willingly agreed. Then John went to the room where the girl sat at
her spinning-wheel, and even as he entered his foot faltered and he
turned very pale. With his eyes bent on the floor and his voice
hesitating he told her that he came from Captain Standish to ask if she
would marry him. Priscilla was astonished; the Captain was older than
she and had been so busy that she had seen little of him. John Alden
had been her comrade and she cared more for him than she had ever dared
admit to herself. He looked so pale and distressed as he stood there
before her that she wondered what might be the cause. Then the reason
flashed upon her. With downcast eyes and a voice that was only a
whisper she spoke to him. "Why don't you speak for yourself, John?" was
what he heard her say.
John wondered if he could have understood aright. Then she looked up at
him and he knew that it was him she loved and that she had no room for
Standish in her heart. So, still trembling, he asked her to marry him
instead of Standish, and she said she would. But even in his joy John
feared that he had proved a traitor to his friend.
Dark days followed for the lovers. John had to give his message to the
Captain, and it was no easy telling. For days he carried with him the
feeling of treachery, and he spent many nights walking on the shore,
distrustful of himself and of the love that had come to him in such
fashion. Priscilla was scarcely happier, for the same thought was with
her, and she knew it was she who had put the words into John Alden's
mouth. Then came news that Captain Standish had been sent on an
expedition against the Indians, and both Priscilla and John feared that
in a moment of rashness over his disappointment he might expose himself
recklessly in battle, and so the colony lose its best guardian and
captain.
[Illustration: JOHN ALDEN AND PRISCILLA
_By Boughton_]
But Miles Standish was no coward and he set out on his expedition
determined to fight when he must but not to run into needless dangers.
A three days' march brought him to the Indian encampment, but it seemed
as peaceful as the town that he had left. Women were at work in the
fields and about the tents, but there were no braves in sight. After a
short détour he discovered them, their bodies covered with war paint,
seated about a fire, handing a smoking pipe from one to another. One of
them caught the glint of sun on the Captain's armor and spoke to the
others, and then two rose and came towards Standish. They spoke
peacefully, saying that they wanted to be friends with the white men,
and would like to trade skins and corn for knives and muskets and the
mysterious powder the white men used in their "fire-tubes." Standish
offered them blankets but refused to give them arms or powder. Then
their manner changed very quickly, and pointing to the knives at their
belts they began to tell the white men what they would do to their
settlement unless they would come to terms. In the meantime the wary
Captain had noted how the other Indians had left the fire and were
creeping up towards him on all sides, fixing arrows to their bowstrings
as they came, but pretending that they were only going back to their
tents. He waited, like a tiger ready to spring, while the chief worked
himself up into a passion with his threats. Suddenly the chief drew his
knife and raised it high, giving the war-cry. At the same instant
Standish sprang forward, and before the Indian's knife could fall he
had plunged his own into the redman's breast. The chief fell, and
instantly a storm of arrows swept about Standish and his men and the
braves leaped forward, crying their wild war-whoops. The white men
turned back to back, and, leveling their muskets, sent a deadly fire at
the advancing braves. The latter, always frightened at this mysterious
sight and sound, turned and fled, leaving their chief, Wattawamat, dead
in front of Standish. Then the Captain cut off the head of the Indian
and carried it back with him to Plymouth, where it was stuck on a pike
from the roof of the fort as a warning to other warring redmen. Such
acts were part of the customs of those times, and the elders of
Plymouth approved of the Captain's deed, but one elder, named John
Robinson, who was the religious leader of them all, cried out as he
passed the fort, "Oh, that he had converted some before he killed any!"
If Miles Standish had flared up in anger when John Alden first told him
the result of his suit of Priscilla that anger dropped as quickly as it
rose. The Captain had many other matters to think about, what with the
constant fear of attack from restless Indians, and he was away from
Plymouth almost as much as he was there. So the lovers lost the feeling
that they had not been fair to him, and let it be known through
Plymouth that they were to marry.
Meanwhile the Pilgrim village was prospering. Food was plentiful, for
the first harvest had been good, and the hunters had brought in deer
and the fishing-boats returned well-laden from the sea. Therefore the
Governor ordered a day of thanksgiving late in the autumn, and when
that day came the people went to the fortress-church on the hill and
gave thanks to God that He had allowed them to endure and prosper in
their new home. Later in the day they feasted, and never had Plymouth
seen such a plentiful repast. Word of the feast had been sent to some
of the neighboring Indians and ninety of them came and sat about the
board with the white men. That was the beginning of our Thanksgiving
Day.
John Alden was busy building a new house for his bride. He could build
better now than the settlers had been able to do when they faced that
first winter. He chose his ground with care, and built a substantial
home, covering the roof with rushes, and filling the latticed windows
with panes of oiled paper, which let the light come through but not the
wind or rain. He dug a well and planted an orchard at the rear of the
house, and when the place was finished it was one of the finest in
Plymouth. In the spring Priscilla and John were married, their wedding
being one of the earliest in the colony, and Priscilla being the first
of the girls who had sailed on the _Mayflower_ to change her name.