CONCLUSION.
THE six months' imprisonment to which Master Drayton the hatter had
been condemned came to an end at last, but not before his health had
become so greatly impaired by the close confinement and impure air of
the prison that the doctor greatly feared he would never be strong
again, more especially as he would now be known as a Quaker, and
consequently watched and harassed by the authorities upon the smallest
provocation.
The thought of this and the sight of her husband's pale worn face soon
overcame Dame Drayton's reluctance to give up her home and friends in
England, and join the band of Quakers who were soon to sail for New
Jersey in His Majesty's plantations of America.
This year 1677 was likely to be one of blessed memory in the history of
the Society of Friends, for Sir William Penn had carried into practical
effect the dream of Master Drayton, and had spent a portion of his
wealth in the purchase of land upon which his poor persecuted friends
could settle, and worship God according to the dictates of their
conscience, none daring to make them afraid.
Bessie's father had been despatched with a party of convicts to the
older settlement of Massachusetts; but as Quakers were persecuted
almost as bitterly at Boston as in London, an agent had been sent by
Sir William to buy the prisoner at the auction of the convicts, which
would take place as soon as the vessel arrived.
Westland was a more robust man than his friend the hatter, and, thanks
to the care of Friends outside the prison, he had not suffered so
severely as the London tradesman.
The lax rules of the prison had given Westland an opportunity of
preaching the gospel to the prisoners confined with him, and though
many mocked and jeered at his warnings, a few were impressed with the
earnestness of his faith; and this was so great a comfort to his ardent
soul that he forgot the discomfort of his surroundings in the joy of
knowing he had been the means of awakening some souls from the night
and sleep of sin, to seek the Saviour who could give to them a new and
better life.
As it had been decreed that his wife must remain in Bridewell until he
could earn the money to pay her passage to the plantations, it was at
first feared that she would have to remain in prison for a much longer
time than her husband; but although Sir William Penn was known to be an
obstinate Quaker, many about the Court who had known his father were
willing to do him a favour, in the hope of drawing him back to what
they deemed was his rightful position in society; and by the interest
of some of these it was at last arranged that Bessie's mother should be
released when the party of Friends were ready to sail from Gravesend.
Bessie was allowed to go and see her father just before he was taken
from Newgate; and now to hear at last that her mother would be released
to go with them to the new strange home across the seas was almost too
much joy for the poor girl.
"We shall see her, Dorothy! we shall see her! thee and me; and we shall
not be afraid of people knowing we are Quakers. Verily, God hath been
good in giving us such a friend as Sir William Penn, who is indeed our
champion and protector."
But Audrey was by no means so delighted as Bessie over the impending
change. The two girls had learned to know and love each other by this
time, for each had been drawn to the other by the mutual helpfulness
that had kept business and household going during the long illness of
Dame Drayton and the imprisonment of her husband.
It had seemed impossible at first that pretty, fashionable Audrey Lowe,
whose father lived by ministering at a steeple-house, and the stern,
uncompromising Bessie Westland could ever be friends, in the closest
sense of that word. But circumstances had thrown them so closely
together the last few months, that they had learned to look below
the surface they each so much disliked in the other, and there they
could recognise the true spirit of Christ Jesus, who came not to be
ministered unto, but to minister.
In spite of her mother's chafings and warnings lest their fashionable
friends should find out that they were related to Quakers, Audrey Lowe
insisted upon spending the greater part of her time at Soper Lane
during her aunt's illness; so that the girls were necessarily thrown
together a good deal, and thus had learned to know and appreciate the
selflessness each displayed in working for Dame Drayton and her family.
When at last the day of parting came, it was not such an unmingled joy
to Bessie as she had anticipated, for her heart clung to this friend,
who was so like and yet so unlike herself in all externals of character
and surroundings.
"I shall never be able to say a word against steeple-houses and the
people who go there, after knowing thee, Audrey," she said, the last
evening they spent together.
They were sitting on a box in the keeping-room, waiting for the waggon
to come and fetch the last of their goods to the wherry, which would
carry them to the schooner chartered by Sir William Penn to convey them
to their new home. The girls sat hand in hand, their hearts too full to
say much, until Bessie spoke about the steeple-houses.
"I am glad," said Audrey in a whisper, "for I never liked to hear thee
speak of what I loved and reverenced with such contempt. I cannot
understand how thee can do it, when it is God's house of prayer."
But this was treading on dangerous ground, and had been the most thorny
subject of discussion between the two girls; so Audrey hastened to add—
"I have learned to understand what a real Quaker is from knowing thee,
Bessie; and I shall always try to help them if I can, and they need my
help."
"Ah, and I fear there will be many poor Friends left behind here in
London who will need all the help man can give them," answered Bessie.
"For we cannot all go in this ship to another land; and Friend William
Penn says it would not be good for us or for England to carry all the
Quakers away. We have had our share of the battle, and fought for the
truth and for liberty of conscience, as God strengthened us to do. Now
He will strengthen others to take our places, while we go to plant the
truth in other lands. Although Friend William Penn hath been imprisoned
for the truth again and again, he will not come with us now, but stay
and fight the battle of religious liberty here; for it can only grow
and become strong through fighting and struggling—hard as it may be for
us who suffer."
"Oh, Bessie, I cannot bear to think there should be all this fighting
about it," said Audrey, in a pained tone.
"It hurts thee only to think of it," said Bessie, "and therefore God
hath not called thee to this work, but to be a comforter of those who
suffer, and help to make them strong and gentle. Thou art tender and
loving and pitiful. I thought scornfully of these things once; but
since I have known thee, I have learned to see that God hath work for
all in His world. For it is His world, Audrey, in spite of the sin and
pain and trouble that wicked people make in it. Now I want to fight
this wickedness, and so does my father. But it may be God hath other
methods, only I have not learned them. But I am glad—oh, so glad!—that
God hath called my mother and father, and all of us, out of the fight
for a little while—or, at least, this sort of fighting," added Bessie.
"The fight can never be over, while we have our own sin and selfishness
to struggle against," said Audrey quickly.
"I know. I have learned that since I have been here," replied Bessie.
"There was not time to think of much besides the other sort of fighting
before. We needed all our courage to be faithful and true, and preach
the gospel to every creature, as the Lord Jesus commanded; but since I
have been here, dwelling in safety and comfort, such as I never knew
before, I have learned there is another battle to fight, and other
victories to be won, and I have been trying to do this as well."
"I know, Bessie," whispered Audrey, "I know it has not been easy for
you to do just the everyday work that was so important to aunt and
uncle. You are Brave Bessie Westland—the bravest girl I ever knew,
especially in what you have done for aunt and all of us here."
They were interrupted at this point, for the box on which they were
seated was wanted, and there was no further opportunity of talking.
At daybreak they were going by water to Limehouse Hole, where a
wherry was to be in readiness to convey them to Gravesend. The whole
party who were going were Quakers, many of them in broken health
from imprisonment in unwholesome gaols. Some were bringing all their
household goods, as Master Drayton was doing; while others, like
Bessie's mother, possessed but the few rags they wore when leaving
prison. Most of them came from London and its neighbourhood; but a few
were brought from neighbouring gaols, the authorities giving them up to
save, the expense of transporting them as slaves to the plantations.
Audrey and her mother bade the Draytons farewell the night before they
started. It was hard for the sisters to part after this short reunion,
for they too had begun to understand each other better than they had
done before, and whatever their differences of opinion might be, they
were heartily at one in desiring that religious liberty should be the
right of everybody, whatever name they might be called by; for, as Dame
Lowe remarked, there were more silent martyrs in any cause than the
world dreamed of; and, as Audrey added, there were not many like Brave
Bessie Westland.
So the tears of parting had all been shed when the sun rose the next
morning, and if they were not all as happy as Bessie herself and her
two sisters, it was a calm and hopeful party of men and women who went
on board the wherry at Limehouse Hole, and though most of them were
being forcibly driven from their native land, they could yet look
forward to the new home they were going to make in the unknown world
beyond the seas. To many of the more timid of the company, seated among
the baskets and bundles on board the wherry, the voyage, with its
unknown perils, was the most fearful part of the trial, and if they
could not have rested upon the arm of their Father in heaven, they
would scarcely have braved its dangers even to escape persecution. But
almost all among them had a nearer and dearer self in husband, wife,
or children, to think of, and for their sakes the timid became brave,
for the time at least, so that when the schooner was reached, where the
prisoners had been already placed under the care of the captain, the
party of Friends in the wherry were able to meet them with cheerful,
hopeful words and greetings.
To Bessie and her sisters it was a moment of great joy, although a
second look at the dear mother showed that the months spent in prison
had left cruel marks upon her. The hair, so dark when she went away,
was now quite white, they saw, as they looked more closely under the
hood that covered her head. She was better clothed than most of those
who had been brought from different gaols, for Dame Lowe and Audrey
had made her a homely but useful outfit for the voyage, and some of
the things had been taken by Friends to the prison the day before. For
this thoughtful kindness Dame Westland was deeply grateful, since the
rags she had been wearing would have been a pain and grief to Bessie,
she knew, and to be able to meet her children decently clad was a great
comfort.
Truly the passengers going on this voyage were of all sorts and
conditions of men; but they were linked in the bonds of love to God,
and the truth declared by the Lord Jesus Christ, and for this they
had all suffered in mind, body, or estate, some being beggared, some
maimed, some broken in health and hope alike, but all brave, true
friends and brethren, ready to help each other and bear each other's
burdens.
By the help of the same benefactor, under the guidance of God, they had
been brought together to make a new home in a new country, and they
resolved that, so far as it was possible, religious as well as civil
liberty, should be the charter of the new homestead they were going to
set up in New Jersey. It was to be a home and refuge for the persecuted
Society of Friends. Sir William Penn had bought it, and they were to
establish the faith of God upon it.
Later, perhaps, if the persecution of their people in England did not
cease, he would endeavour to secure a larger territory in liquidation
of a debt owing by the king, for money advanced by his father the
admiral. Whether these larger plans would ever come to anything, the
present band of pilgrims did not know; but, of course, it would largely
depend upon the success of this venture, so every man and woman of the
party felt that it would depend upon them whether or not this larger
refuge could be founded, and all with one accord, who had heard the
story, resolved to follow the example of Brave Bessie Westland.
[Illustration]
MORRISON AND GIBB, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.