Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrims: Time-Travel Adventures with Exceptional Americans

by Rush Limbaugh

  A young teenage boy who was standing nearby raised his hand and said, “I haven’t seen a duck, but I have seen a seagull. Or at least I think it was a seagull. I’m not sure because I didn’t see it float very long before a giant shark three times the size of the Mayflower jumped out of the water and ate the whole thing in one gulp.”

  “It’s true,” said a second boy, about the same age as the first. They looked like brothers. “I saw the same shark. In fact, I saw it following the Mayflower just a few minutes ago.”

  The young children stood there looking horrified, their eyes nearly as big as their opened mouths.

  “D-d-did you really see such a shark?” a little girl finally asked.

  “No, he did not!” said a man coming from behind the two teenage boys. Although it was dark, I could tell that he was shorter than William but probably close to the same age, maybe a little older. He looked like a strong man with broad shoulders. His red beard and mustache were neatly trimmed and he wore fine clothing, with a sword hanging from his side. I could see Tommy’s eyes fixed on the sword.

  He grabbed the ears of both of the teenage boys and forced them to their knees. He spoke with authority and while twisting their ears he said, “I warned you Billington boys. I told you I wouldn’t put up with your nonsense. You will now tell these children the truth.”

  Painfully, the boys spoke as fast as they could. “We didn’t see a shark.” “Ouch, or a seagull.” “We’re sorry for scaring you.” “Ow, it was just a fib.” “We were just teasing you.” “That really hurts, it won’t happen again. . . .”

  “Thank you, Captain Standish, that will be enough,” said William Bradford.

  Like two fish being released in a shallow pool, the boys darted for the other side of the darkened ship.

  “Let me introduce you to Captain Myles Standish,” said William. “Captain Standish was with us in Holland. He will be handling our colony’s military matters in America.”

  Tommy leaned close to me and whispered, “I’m glad he’s not our substitute teacher. He doesn’t mess around. My friend’s dad was in the military, and let’s just say no one wanted to get on his bad side. Captain Standish seems stricter than Principal Sherman.”

  We exchanged introductions and Tommy immediately asked, “Will you teach me how to fight with a sword?”

  “I’d be delighted,” said Myles, “but ear-twisting can also be very effective.” He winked and smiled while messing up Tommy’s hair. “When the weather gets better I can teach you the art of swordfighting on the upper deck.”

  William asked Myles, “Have you seen Elder Brewster?”

  “I believe he’s returned to the captain’s cabin to—”

  Before Myles could finish his sentence a loud bell started to ring. “Ding, ding. Ding, ding. Ding, ding.” Through the open hatch we heard someone shout, “Man overboard!”

  As we hurried to follow William and Myles back to the hatch and up the ladder, I noticed several families calling out for sons and daughters, husbands and wives. Like a hen rushing to gather her chicks, fathers and mothers were frantically searching for their own children, hoping whoever went overboard wasn’t one of their own.

  We rushed up the ladder, through the hatch, and onto the upper deck. It was like we landed on a different planet. Although it was much brighter and the air much fresher, the wind was howling through the ropes and rigging, and giant waves looked like they could smother the Mayflower at any moment. We were drenched from the water spraying in every direction. We scrambled toward several sailors shouting and pointing at something in the water.

  “He fell over the ship’s railing right there!” a sailor shouted.

  An older man was barking orders to the crew and I assumed he must be the captain of the Mayflower. He was wearing a long coat with a stocking cap similar to what the sailors were wearing.

  William called to the older man, “Captain Jones, look over there!” He pointed to a rope attached to the upper sail. “It looks like it’s dragging something.”

  The captain looked doubtful but in a split second yelled at the crew, “Get that topsail halyard out of the water!”

  I studied the end of the rope that was lost in the waves behind us. For a few seconds, I saw something that looked like a body lift up out of the water and then become consumed again by another wave.

  “A man!” I shouted. “He’s hanging on to the end of that rope.” I wasn’t 100 percent sure but I believed William Bradford’s suspicion was correct.

  “He’s caught in the rope. He’s already dead!” shouted a sailor. “Leave him for the sharks.”

  “I give the orders around here, sailor!” shouted Captain Jones. “Get that halyard out of the water! And that man still better be on the end of it or I wouldn’t want to be you!”

  Captain Jones’s voice was so loud and so threatening that the crew looked more afraid of the captain than they did of the storm. Within seconds they had the rope and began pulling with all their might. “Heave, heave, heave!” they shouted in unison.

  It felt like buckets of water were being thrown on us from every direction. The ship rocked again and again. It was almost impossible to stand up without holding on to something. I tried to keep my eye on the end of the rope that the sailors were hauling in, and hoped to spot the dangling body, but I slipped and slid across the width of the twenty-five-foot deck. It might have been fun if I were at a water park. As I looked back to where I was standing, I saw that William had joined the sailors and was pulling the rope as well. Tommy was on his hands and knees nearly twenty feet away. He was dangerously close to the railing and as he attempted to stand the boat suddenly lurched leeward. Helplessly, I saw Tommy slip and tip over the ship’s railing headfirst. I scrambled toward Tommy but realized I just wasn’t close enough to help him. Fortunately, Myles Standish was. He reached over and grabbed Tommy’s right leg in the nick of time. Just as Myles was slipping, I reached out and grabbed his arm as he continued to pull Tommy back onto the ship.

  “I’m taking the boy to the captain’s cabin! You should come, too!” shouted Myles.

  An artist’s rendering of William Brewster.

  An artist’s rendering of Myles Standish.

  “Thank you, Captain Standish!” I yelled, not fully realizing the gravity of what had just happened. “I’ll follow you in just a minute!” I wanted to witness the rescue of the man in the water.

  I yelled to Tommy, “Go with Captain Standish! I’ll be right behind you!”

  The sailors continued to heave and pull the rope in rhythm. The end of the rope was nearing the rudder. It reached the aft of the ship and then the hull. Without question, there was a man hanging on to the end of that rope with fierce desperation.

  “Grab a boat hook!” shouted Captain Jones. “Haul him up and snag him with the hook!”

  After several more minutes, the man was hauled back into the boat. He rolled to his side and coughed up seawater.

  “Take him to my cabin!” the captain ordered.

  Two sailors pulled the man to his feet. They helped him up the ladder to the quarterdeck and into the captain’s cabin.

  “He’s lucky to be alive,” I said as I patted William on the back.

  “Not luck,” William said. “It’s a miracle. Surely, this is a divine sign. We will ask Elder Brewster. Whenever there is doubt or fear among the passengers we can always turn to him for guidance and strength. He has great wisdom and spiritual strength.” As William opened the door to the captain’s cabin he turned back and said, “Elder Brewster always provides a sense of calm in troubled times. I’m eager for you to meet him.”

  “Did I hear my name? Am I needed?” asked a man dressed in a long blue robe. His high collar and stately appearance reminded me of someone of religious authority. He had kind eyes and his peppered hair was thin and receding. He was sitting across from Myles Standish and Tommy. They all stood and rushed over to us when they saw the sailors help the stumbling man to a bed.

  “Elder
Brewster,” said William. “John Howland fell overboard but was saved.”

  “If he had followed the rules and stayed below deck during a storm he wouldn’t look like a drowned rat,” said Myles.

  “You say he fell overboard?” asked Elder Brewster, sounding greatly concerned. “And yet he is back on the ship? Tell me what happened.”

  William explained all that had happened.

  “Extraordinary,” said Elder Brewster.

  John started coughing again. He breathed deeply as his eyes scanned the room. “I can’t believe . . . I’m alive. . . . Thank you for saving me.”

  “John, my dear boy, what were you doing on the upper deck during a tempest?” asked Elder Brewster.

  Breathlessly, John replied, “I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I was sitting in my space down below in the tween deck. The passengers next to me were seasick and both threw up in their chamber pots. The stench was more than I could handle. I just needed some fresh air. I felt the walls of the ship’s hull closing in all around me, and down below it didn’t feel like the weather was a raging tempest. So I climbed the ladder as fast as I could, opened the hatch, and jumped out only to find that I had entered a terrible fury.”

  “Do not condemn yourself, John,” said Elder Brewster. “Your salvation from certain death is a miraculous sign. Everything happens for a reason. God has chosen to save you, which I believe means we are certain to make it to America.”

  William looked at me and nodded in agreement.

  The wind blew in as Captain Jones entered his cabin and removed his heavy coat. I guessed he was fifty years old. His hair and beard were gray. He wore a blue stocking cap like the other sailors but his clothing was cleaner and more distinguished. He said, “I’m sorry for my delay. How is the passenger?”

  “He’s alive,” said William.

  “He’s welcome to stay here until he fully recovers,” said Captain Jones.

  William approached the captain and said, “I want to personally thank you for acting quickly and ordering your men to do the same. It’s apparent your crew respects you.”

  Captain Jones laughed, “Ha, they respect me or fear me. Either way, it got the job done. But I warn you, there are sailors on this ship that would rather see all of the Puritans fed to the sharks.”

  “We are used to being bullied and threatened, Captain Jones,” William said.

  “Rest assured,” said Elder Brewster, “we will not retaliate. God will smite those who afflict the righteous, just as he saves those who are good and true.”

  I thought about the sailor who already threatened me, twice. I believed the warning from Captain Jones. But I wondered if the captain believed the words of Elder Brewster.

  As the captain talked to the other Pilgrim leaders, Tommy walked over to John’s bed and said, “Dude, I can’t believe you hung on to that rope. That was amazing! You’re like the seventeenth-century version of Chuck Norris.”

  John looked at Tommy, confused. “My name is John Howland. I know not anyone named Dude, but apparently you mistake me for some stranger by that name. And I know not of any Chuck Norris. But it sounded like a compliment, so thank you.”

  William introduced me to both Captain Christopher Jones and Elder William Brewster, the current religious leader of the Puritans. They invited Tommy and me to stay in the captain’s cabin until the storm blew over. While we waited, Captain Jones offered us some salted beef.

  “This is pretty good,” Tommy said, chewing. “It’s just like beef jerky.”

  “Jerky?” Myles questioned. “I’m not familiar with that word.”

  Still chewing, I butted in and said, “Oh, it’s an old family recipe.”

  As we finished our sticks of salted beef, I walked over to William and said, “I just wanted to say that I think you make a fine leader.”

  William said, “Thank you, Rush Revere. I’m not sure about being a fine leader. I just do what needs to be done.”

  “Even if it means risking your own life?” I asked.

  “I would risk my life to do the right thing every time. When I was a young boy I became very ill. I had to stay at home. I had time to read many books, especially the Bible. I promised God that I would try my best to make the right choice every time. I am far from being perfect. My wife will tell you that,” William said with a smile. “But I will do everything I can to help make our colony, our New World, our land of America a place where religious freedom comes first. If we can become a nation under God and put our trust in Him, I believe we shall prosper.”

  I pondered those words and realized how important they would be to our Founding Fathers.

  The ocean settled sooner than I expected. It was still drizzling outside but I realized it would be a good time to find Liberty, before the upper deck got too crowded. We thanked our guests and excused ourselves.

  “I hope Liberty is okay,” Tommy said.

  Route of the Mayflower, 1620.

  We walked across the quarterdeck, down the ladder, and to the door of the capstan room. We opened it and found Liberty wedged between a side wall and the wooden levers of the capstan, sleeping peacefully.

  “Liberty,” Tommy said.

  Nothing.

  “Liberty!” Tommy shouted.

  Still nothing.

  “Here, let me try,” I said. I opened Liberty’s saddlebag and pulled out an apple that we had picked in Holland. I waved it in front of Liberty’s nose.

  With his eyes still closed, Liberty wrapped his lips around the apple and chewed heartily. I grabbed several more apples and fed them to him one by one. He kept his eyes closed while he chewed and said, “I must have taken a nap. Ships always do that to me. The more the rocking the more tired I become. Did I miss anything?”

  “Nothing too important,” I said, still feeding him the apples. “But it’s time to jump forward to the end of the Mayflower voyage. There’s a new land to discover! There are Indians to befriend and a new colony to build. And a celebration to be had called Thanksgiving!”

  Liberty’s eyes popped open and said, “Thanksgiving! Pumpkin pie. Cranberries. Squash and green beans and carrots and corn and peas and those miniature pumpkins! Now you’re speaking my language! What are we waiting for?” With a burst of energy he walked out onto the open deck and vanished into thin air.

  “What we need now is a distraction so Liberty can create the time portal and we can jump through it,” I said. “Anyone have an idea?”

  “Whoa, is that a real whale?” Tommy said while pointing starboard, off the bow of the ship.

  “Very convincing, Tommy,” I said. “You’re a very good actor. Now we just have to convince everyone else on deck.”

  “I’m not kidding, look!” Tommy said.

  I turned around and, sure enough, a giant sperm whale nearly sixty feet long surfaced the water. And not just one, but several whales. An entire pod of sperm whales was just two hundred yards off the starboard bow. Sailors called to each other and pointed in the direction of the whales.

  “Quickly, now’s our chance. To the opposite side of the ship!” I whispered.

  The diversion worked. Liberty reappeared and we slipped onto his back. Liberty said, “Rush, rush, rushing to history!”

  I echoed his words with “November ninth, 1620, the Mayflower.” Nobody noticed as we jumped through the time portal.

  Chapter 5

  Darkness concealed our return to the Mayflower’s upper deck. However, the sun was close to rising and would soon stretch its rays across the eastern horizon. A light breeze drifted across our faces, reminding us that winter was just around the corner. We appeared to have landed on the ship we left from, except instead of September it was now November. It was still too dark to see much, but I was worried about the condition of the passengers and crew. I knew they lacked food and water. I knew they lacked good nutrition, particularly vitamin C, in their diet. Certainly, this would cause many to suffer from scurvy—a disease known to cause swollen and bleeding gums and ultimately, death. And,
most important, I knew they lacked hope. For days and weeks the Pilgrims hoped that they would find land. They hoped for an end to the miserable conditions they had to endure. Now, after suffering for two months, there was still no sign of dry ground. Even I could feel the grip of hopelessness trying to strangle me. I quickly turned to Liberty and Tommy in an effort to break the despair I was feeling.

  “Nice jumping, Liberty,” I said, scratching him behind the ear.

  “Aw, shucks! I bet you say that to all the magical horses who leap you across the Atlantic Ocean,” Liberty said, grinning.

  Tommy jumped off Liberty’s saddle and said, “Hey, if there are other horses like you, I want one!”

  Curious, I asked, “If you had a horse like Liberty, what exceptional event in American history would you visit first?”

  “Hmm,” Tommy thought, “that’s a tough one. Probably 1969, when Apollo 11 launched into space and Neil Armstrong became the first man to set foot on the moon. That would be awesome!”

  “Oh, I remember watching that on television,” said Liberty. “When he landed on the moon he said, ‘That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.’ Although, personally, I think a giant leap through time is more impressive.”

  “Wait, you mean that if you wanted to you could time-jump to the moon?” Tommy asked.

  “Well, if a cow can jump over the moon, certainly a horse can!” Liberty huffed.

  “All right, kids,” I intervened. “Let’s get back to business. It’s almost light enough now to see what’s happening on the ship. In fact, I think that’s Captain Jones and William Bradford up on the poop deck.”