“He died last year.”
“My condolences,” said the captain. “Your grandfather and I had many adventures together. I was a young salt. He took me under his wing. Come. Dine with me tonight.”
That night at Yarmouth Castle, during a sumptuous meal of veal and beef, Captain Burleigh regaled Drew with stories of himself and Drew’s grandfather; some Drew had heard before, others he hadn’t.
Drew learned that Burleigh had been taken prisoner at sea and was detained in Spain for three years. In 1610, he and his three sons accompanied Sir Thomas Roe on a voyage to Guiana.
When the subject swung around to Drew, without going into detail, he explained how he had no desire to be a country gentleman like his father. He said nothing of Bishop Laud or Edenford. Either Captain Burleigh had not heard of Drew’s reception with the king or chose not to bring it up. Either way, Drew was glad.
“Well, son, If you’re anything like your grandfather, you’ll find your life on the sea,” the captain said. “Plenty of adventure on the sea, what with the Dunkirks.
“Blasted privateers! They raid our merchant ships and then scurry for their port in Flanders. If I had my way, we’d send a fleet of ships and steal the city away from the blasted Spanish. What with their continuous raids in the channel, we have every right. But then, who listens to an old sea dog like me?
“If fighting’s not in your blood, there’s always the merchant ships—trade in the Caribbean, slaving in Africa, transporting people to the new colonies in America … which reminds me! I’ve been invited to have breakfast with Captain Milbourne aboard his ship tomorrow. Milbourne is a fine sailor. He was under my command in Guiana. Come with me, boy! If you like it, I’ll get you signed onto his crew! If not, what have you lost? At least you get breakfast.”
Talking with Captain Burleigh brought to Drew’s mind a thousand fond memories of his grandfather and adventurous tales of the sea. Sitting down to breakfast with a couple of sea captains sounded like a grand idea.
Who knew? Maybe he’d find what he was looking for at sea.
A low mist sat on the bay like a blanket, as the skiff bearing Captain Burleigh and Drew bobbed toward the anchored ship. The air was dense and salty. Captain Burleigh sat erect, his back stiff as a board, as befitting a man of his position. There was no smile on his face, but Drew knew inside his blood was rushing at the opportunity to be on the sea again, even if the ship was in harbor.
Captain Peter Milbourne was a short man with a full brown beard. He was stern and unsmiling until his eyes met those of his former captain; then he brightened and his cheeks folded nicely in a grin. The two captains shook hands, and Captain Burleigh introduced Drew as the grandson of Admiral Amos Morgan. Captain Milbourne was dutifully impressed and welcomed Drew aboard.
The captain of the ship escorted his two guests across the deck to the great cabin where they would dine. Drew turned to follow his host’s lead, and there, coming up the steps from below deck, was Nell Matthews.
Chapter 23
Seated at Captain Milbourne’s breakfast table were Drew; Captain Burleigh; Lady Arbella and her husband, Mr. Johnson; and John Winthrop. To Drew’s surprise, he was aboard the Arbella, named after Lady Arbella, daughter of the earl of Lincoln and one of the ship’s most important passengers. The ship had sailed as scheduled on March 29, but unfavorable winds kept it from going any farther than Yarmouth.
Conversation was pleasant and varied, ranging from prospects of the wind shifting to the need for additional provisions since they were so long in port, to an occasional sea story featuring Captains Milbourne and Burleigh.
Attention turned to Drew when Captain Burleigh told the breakfast group how the young man had stopped a runaway horse on the wharf. It was then that Captain Burleigh suggested Drew might be interested in a life at sea.
“So you want to become a tar?” Capt. Milbourne said. “I’ve always thought I’d live and die at sea, but it now appears God has other plans.”
Captain Burleigh expressed surprised. “Last night you hadn’t decided. What persuaded you to become a colonist?”
The direction of the conversation piqued Winthrop’s interest. Drew was uncertain has to whether Winthrop recognized him from the secret meeting in Edenford, but the newly appointed governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony hadn’t said anything during the breakfast. He seemed preoccupied. Now that they were talking about the colonies, he showed greater interest.
“Perhaps your future lies in the colonies as well, Master Morgan,” Winthrop said.
Milbourne seized on the idea. “We already have a full complement of seamen, fifty-two to be exact,” he said. “But there’s always a place on my ship for the grandson of Amos Morgan. As for the settlement, you’ll have to take that up with Winthrop. Once on land, he’s in charge.”
As the breakfast broke up, Drew watched as the captains said their goodbyes. The other guests had already departed.
“Before I take my leave, Burleigh said, “I fear I have unfortunate news.”
He spoke in a low voice.
Should Drew leave? He looked for some sort of signal from either captain. There was none.
“From the navy,” Burleigh continued. “Reports are, the Dunkirkers have ten sails in the channel, preying on English ships. They boarded the Warwick fourteen days ago. She came alone out of the Downs and has not been heard of since. She was a pretty ship too—eighty ton, only ten pieces of ordnance.”
“The captain?” Milbourne asked.
“Mason.”
“Good man.”
Milbourne thanked his friend for the report.
“Watch the horizon and stick together,” Burleigh advised.
Drew accompanied Captain Burleigh to Yarmouth Castle to collect his things. As their skiff pulled away from the ship, Captain Milbourne gave the old seaman a four-shot out of the forecastle for a farewell.
When Drew returned to the Arbella a few hours later, he was taken directly to the captain’s cabin.
An unsmiling Captain Milbourne greeted him.
In Drew’s absence, Winthrop had spoken to the captain advising him of Drew’s past activities, the ones culminating in Christopher Matthews’ execution. Apparently a young woman had approached Winthrop and voiced her objection to Drew being on board.
“Morgan, I make it a point not to ask my men about their past,” the captain said. “Most of them have a past they’d rather forget. I don’t care about politics and religion and Puritans and cavaliers. All I care about is this ship.”
He stared hard at Drew, studying him like he would a weather chart, looking for squalls and ill winds.
Finally, he said, “Out of respect for your grandfather, if Winthrop has no objections, I’ll sign you on for the crossing. You’ll find him in his cabin; then, come tell me what he says.”
John Winthrop was writing in his journal when Drew knocked. Master Winthrop listened intently as Drew described the events in Edenford that led to Christopher Matthews’ death.
Winthrop said, “David Cooper told me how it was your plan that made good their escape.”
“Is his family on board the Arbella too?”
“They’re on the Talbot,” Winthrop said. “When the decision was made to flee Edenford, Cooper was concerned for the safety of Matthews’ daughters, and rightly so. He sent them to me. They’re the only residents of Edenford aboard this ship.”
Drew’s heart was racing at the thought of being so close to Nell and Jenny again.
“What can I do to convince you that I’m sincere in my desire to join you in your expedition?” Drew asked.
Winthrop ran a thin finger down his long, straight nose as he pondered the question. He seemed to be wavering.
Speak up, or be quiet? Drew couldn’t decide. Was it better to press his point, or would he ruin his chances if it appeared he was trying too hard?
“One of the last sermons Christopher Matthews preached in Edenford,” Drew blurted, “was of the time Moses lead the people of
Israel to the edge of the Promised Land. This was shortly before you arrived. I believe he had already decided to lead the town to the New World. But, like Moses, his task was to take them to the edge of the Promised Land, not to enter it himself. When he commissioned me to complete his work, at first I thought it was to simply to fulfill his task. But Moses remained behind alone, didn’t he? I believe now he intended me to enter the Promised Land with the faithful.”
Winthrop mulled this for a time.
“When I was a boy,” he said, leaning back in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes, “I had little interest in religion. I was full of wickedness. At about age twelve I read some religious books and grew concerned about my wickedness. Afterward I wasn’t as bad as before, but I was still wicked. In my middle teens when I was at Cambridge University, I became quite ill. I was far from home, isolated from everyone, and I turned to God. But that lasted only until I got better. Then, at age eighteen, not long after I got married, I came under the influence of Rev. Ezekiel Culverwell. Now there was a man of God, a great Puritan preacher. He was suspended for a time for not wearing a surplice.
“Then I read the writing of William Perkins, which unsettled me. He convinced me that reprobates could do as much as I had done for God. His writings taught me that I had no occasion at all to consider myself saved. For a long time I remained very devout, but still very uncomfortable with my faith.”
Winthrop closed his eyes and, for a moment, retreated to that time.
“Finally,” he said, “at age thirty, I began to have a greater understanding of my complete unworthiness. My education, my family wealth, my relationships were nothing. I was plunged to the depth of despair. And from this depth I was lifted up. And every promise I thought upon held forth Christ unto me, saying, ‘I am thy salvation.’ At that moment, a new man quickened in me.”
An aura of holiness filled the cabin as Winthrop spoke openly about private thoughts and feelings. This was not casual conversation between two men; nor was it a meeting of minds; the flame of one man’s spirit quickened another man’s spirit, and both were strangely warmed by the exchange.
“For me,” Winthrop said, “it was Ezekiel Culverwell. For you, Christopher Matthews. And by God’s grace through the ministry of these two men, we have been brought to this time and place. Who am I to stand in the way of a man who is seeking God’s will for his life?”
The captain received the news of Winthrop’s decision without expression.
“It will be a long voyage,” he said. “If we get along well together, it will be a pleasant voyage; if we don’t, this ship can be hell afloat. Your responsibilities are simple: Obey your orders and do your duty. That’s all I’ve got to say. Go below to the seamen’s quarters and report to Mr. Prudden.”
The following day the Reverend John Cotton, a friend of Winthrop, came aboard the Arbella to preach a sermon to the colonists. The sermon, God’s Promise to His Plantation, was based on 2 Samuel 7:10: “Also I will appoint a place for my people Israel, and will plant it, that they may dwell in a place of their own, and move no more.”
Cotton emphasized the parallel between the Puritans and God’s chosen people, claiming that it was God’s will that they should inhabit the New World.
He asked the question, “But how shall I know whether God has appointed me such a place?”
Answering his own question, he said, “When there be evils to be avoided that may warrant removal: First, when some grievous sins overspread a country that threaten desolation. Second, if men be overburdened with debts and miseries. Third, in case of persecution.
“This may teach us all where we do now dwell or where after we may dwell. Be sure you look at every place appointed to you, from the hand of God … but we must discern how God appoints us this place. There is poor comfort in sitting down in any place that you cannot say, ‘This place is appointed me of God.’ Can you say that God spied out this place for you, and there has settled you above all hindrances? Did you find that God made room for you either by lawful descent, or purchase, or gift, or other warrantable right? Why, then, this is the place God has appointed for you. Here He has made room for you.”
While Drew did his best to listen to the sermon, the view of Nell and Jenny Matthews on the far side of the deck distracted him mightily. Jenny would glance at him occasionally. Nell never did. In fact, during the entire sermon Nell seldom looked up at all. She didn’t appear to be feeling well.
Following the sermon Drew made his way through the worshippers to where Nell and Jenny had been sitting. Before he was able to reach them, two women assisted Nell below deck. When she saw Drew coming, Jenny stayed on deck. She threw her arms around him.
“Oh Drew, thank God you’re safe!” she cried. “I would have told you we were leaving Edenford if given the chance. But Nell and Mr. Cooper kept it from me until the moment we were leaving. In truth, I never would have left Edenford without saying goodbye.”
“I know,” he said. “You were the only one who believed in me. I’ll never forget that.”
“I still believe in you, Master Morgan,” she said, lowering her eyes.
They became aware that they were attracting stares. Reluctantly, they released each other and stood a respectable distance apart.
“Is Nell ill?” Drew asked.
“Ever since we left Edenford,” Jenny replied. “At first we thought it was from anxiety and lack of sleep, but now we don’t know. She hardly has any strength and spends most days in bed.”
“I’ll pray for her,” Drew said.
Jenny stood opposite him and beamed.
“Did I say something wrong?” Drew asked.
“No. It’s just so good to hear you speak like that…like Poppa,” she said. “You’ve changed since we first met you. You’re more confident, more mature.” She blushed. “It’s attractive.”
At six o’clock in the morning on April 8, the wind rose from the east and north. A hoarse boatswain called—
“Aaaaalllll haaaannnds! Up anchor, ahoy!”
His cry sent the entire crew into motion. Sails were loosed, the yards braced, and the anchor was heaved up from the depths of the harbor.
The captain walked the deck, barking orders, many of them unintelligible to Drew; others he heard clearly but had no idea how to respond. Not so with the other sailors. For them, the captain’s orders were immediately executed at a furious pace with a strange mixture of counter-cries. In a few minutes the Arbella was under way. Drew could hear the noise of the water as the vessel leaned in response to the early morning breeze and headed for the narrow part of the channel called the Needles.
Because the wind was light, not all the ships were able to make it through the passage before the tide changed. While the Arbella was one of the ships that made it out, soon after the wind died and the ship was becalmed three or four leagues from the Needles. That was ten o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t until ten o’clock at night that the wind stirred again from the north, this time a good gale. The ship weighed anchor again and sailed through the night.
By daylight they lay off the coast of Portland.
“Aaaaalllll haaaandddss! Prepare for battle!”
Eight sails bobbed in the distance off the stern of the ship. Supposing they were Dunkirkers, the captain ordered the gun room and gun decks to be cleared. All the hammocks were taken down, the ordnance loaded, and the powder chests made ready. Since this was where the landsmen were quartered, they were moved in with the seamen temporarily.
Twenty-five men, including Drew, were armed with muskets.
With a steady wind from the north, the eight unidentified ships proceeded toward the Arbella. They were closing the gap between the ships. By now the captain was convinced they were Dunkirkers.
The captain ordered a ball of wildfire fastened to an arrow out of a crossbow shot off the port side. A test. He’d never used wildfire before. It burned in the water a good time. Should it become necessary, it would make a good weapon.
The
women and children were removed to the lower deck to keep them out of danger. Once preparations were complete, the men on the upper deck went to prayer.
It was encouraging to see how cheerful this made the company. No one showed fear, though they were fully aware of the danger, which was significant.
The least of the Dunkirkers’ ships were reported to carry thirty brass pieces. The men of the Arbella were putting their trust in the Lord of Hosts.
That, and the courage of the captain, gave the colonists peace and calm.
At about one o’clock, the pursuing ships had closed to within a league of the Arbella. To show he was not afraid of them, Captain Milbourne tacked the ship about to face them. Should they choose to attack, he thought it best to settle the issue before night overtook them.
Drew and the other men with muskets lined the sides of the ship and prepared to open fire.
Then, as the pursuing ships came into range, they were identified as friends, not Dunkirkers at all. One ship was Dutch, another French, and three of them were English. All were bound for Canada and Newfoundland.
When they drew near, the ships saluted one another. To everyone’s relief, fear and danger turned into mirth and entertainment.
The next day they passed the Isles of Scilly and sailed into the open sea.
Drew descended the steps to the seamen’s quarters. Now that they were out of the channel, sailing took on a whole new feel, and he began to experience the discomforts of a seaman’s life.
He was exhausted. The day began early with a stiff gale north by west. The heavy sea beat against the bow of the ship with the sound and force of a blacksmith’s hammer. Waves flew over the deck, drenching Drew and the other sailors. The topsail halyards had been let go and the great sails filled out; the wind whistled through the rigging; loose ropes flew about; men shouted orders and screamed replies as the Arbella plowed its way through the sea to the New World. Behind them followed the Talbot, the Ambrose, and the Jewel. Drew was beginning to realize that a sailor’s life was not nearly as romantic as his grandfather had made it seem.
The Puritans (American Family Portrait #1) Page 37