The one person neither Sarah nor John liked on first sight was a very short man named Myles Standish. He stood with his wife, Rose, and wore a sword to remind people he was a professional soldier and had fought many wars in Europe. He had flaming red hair and a face to match.
“He looks mean,” John whispered.
“I know. I don’t want to be around him,” Sarah agreed.
“We don’t have to worry until we reach the New World,” John told her. “He’ll be on the Mayflower, and we’ll be on the Speedwell.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “At least we will be if they ever get the leaks in our ship fixed.”
A few hours later, more bad news reached the travelers. Thomas Weston, the man who had arranged financing, arrived with a new contract that included harsher rules. The group from Holland refused to sign it. Would this be the end of their dream?
CHAPTER 7
Discouraging Days
How dare Thomas Weston bring such a contract?” John demanded of Father. Father’s eyes shot sparks the same way his son’s often did when he was angry. “The sponsors have added two unbearable terms. They are ordering us to work for them seven days a week, but we must have two days to do our own work, or we cannot survive.” He spread his hands wide. “The second demand is even worse. They want the homes we build to become company property!”
“Are they mad?” Mother cried. “We owned our homes even in Scrooby and Leiden. We’ll be no better than slaves if our leaders agree to abide by the new rules!”
“We cannot and shall not agree to their demands,” Father replied.
His prediction came true. The leaders flatly refused to even consider signing away the freedom they had struggled so hard to find and hoped to enjoy in the New World.
With his usual ability to be on the spot when anything important took place, John smuggled himself into the meeting with Thomas Weston where the amended contract was to be signed.
“We shall not labor seven days for the company. Our homes must be our own,” the leaders stubbornly insisted.
Weston grew furious. He angrily reminded them of how hard he’d worked to get the money they needed for the voyage.
It did nothing to change the men’s minds. At last Weston shouted, “You may look to stand on your own legs!” Although the businessmen remained financially responsible for the expedition, Weston got even with the Pilgrims for not signing the new contract. He refused to pay the port fees still owing on the Mayflower and left for London immediately.
“What shall we do?” the travelers asked. “If the bill is not paid, we will be in trouble with the authorities. King James may cancel our land grant in the New World and take back his permission for us to go.”
John shuddered at the thought. They must go or be homeless. “We don’t have any money,” someone pointed out. “How can we pay what we don’t have?”
After much discussion, the people agreed to sell enough of the precious tubs of butter they had brought in their provisions to meet the debt. John slipped away from the meeting and told Sarah all about it. “We will have to go without butter because of Thomas Weston,” he said glumly.
“I ‘spect we’ll have to go without a lot of things,” Sarah said. Her freckled face looked solemn. “Father and Mother said Jesus probably didn’t have butter when He was a pilgrim either, so we shouldn’t complain.”
John felt ashamed. “They’re right.” He cheered up and tweaked one of her braids. “The good news is, we’re sailing as soon as the Speedwell’s seams are recaulked. Hooray!” He turned a handspring.
At last they sailed. How the passengers celebrated! Not just because at long last they were on their way to America. Oh, no, they had another and far more wonderful reason.
William Brewster, still wanted as a prisoner by the English officials, was on the Speedwell.
Not even keen-eyed John Smythe knew how or when their favorite elder had come aboard. Somehow he had sneaked past the very persons looking for him and hidden himself. Once on the seas, he would be safe, at least for a time.
The celebration ended all too soon. Weather in the English Channel was so stormy, the Speedwell began to leak again. Pounding waves and high winds sent the ship reeling until the passengers wondered if she could ever right herself. The captain signaled the Mayflower, and the two ships sailed into Dartmouth, the nearest port, for repairs. Skilled carpenters spent ten days working on the Speedwell and said she was safe for the voyage.
During all this time, Elder Brewster was forced to remain in hiding. If he was discovered on English shores, he would be sent to a dungeon or maybe even hanged. Every man, woman, and child on board feared for his safety.
Not until early September could the expedition set out again. The weather was calm, and passengers prayed for more good weather. They passed Land’s End, the last part of England they could see, and sailed on.
“This is more like it,” John told Sarah, watching the sun set in a fiery splash on the ocean horizon. “America, get ready. We’re on our way!”
Their joy didn’t last long. Three hundred miles westward, the Speedwell‘s leaking worsened and could not be stopped. The captain said they simply could not go on. They returned to Plymouth, accompanied by the Mayflower. There, the Speedwell was pronounced unfit for ocean travel.
“What will we do?” Mother asked.
“Go on the Mayflower,” Father replied.
John and Sarah stared at each other. How long ago it seemed since John had longed to sail on the larger ship. Now it would happen. He could hardly wait! Then a disturbing thought entered his mind. “I heard the captain say she isn’t built for so many people,” he said.
“We have no choice,” Father sternly told them. “It is already mid-September.” Worry clouded his face. “If we had gone when we were supposed to, there would have been time to plant and harvest some winter crops. Instead, we’ve spent seven weeks on board ship so far, longer than the crossing itself should be.
“We’ve been forced to live in miserable conditions, cold and hungry and thirsty. Our food and fresh water supply have run low. People are sick. The crew is threatening to walk off. They say the emigrants interfere with their work, and in truth, some of them do.”
“William, I have never seen you so discouraged.” Mother placed her hand on Father’s arm. Her forehead wrinkled with concern.
“I know. These are discouraging days.” He sighed, his face troubled. “Decisions must be made. Now. Some of our people are turning back. Abigail, shall we go back to Leiden with them? Only about thirty of our group plan to continue.”
“John and Sarah?” Mother turned to them.
John spoke first. “What you say is true, Father. There will be little or no chance of harvest in the New World. Yet suppose we stay? If we remain in England, Elder Brewster will be thrown into the dungeon, perhaps hanged for treason. So will others—perhaps even you.” He fought the fear that rose inside him. “Life was not easy in Holland, and it isn’t safe there anymore. I believe we should go on, but I will abide by whatever you and Mother decide.”
“Sarah?”
She looked thin and small in her plain dress. Lack of proper food had left its mark on her childish face. John desperately wished he had money to buy Sarah all she needed. He saw her struggle with the question. Her green eyes changed expressions a dozen times before she said, “I miss Leiden and Gretchen and our home.” She looked down at her fingers.
John held his breath, waiting for her to continue. Father and Mother would decide, but he wanted his sister to be happy.
“I miss them,” Sarah repeated in a low voice. “But there isn’t any home to go back to. We sold our house and most of our things. We have to go on. As long as we have each other …”
“That’s right, Sarah. I’m proud of you. And you, too, John.” Mother drew herself up to her full height, looking far taller than she really was. “William, for better or worse, we sail with the Mayflower.”
Father bowed his head and thanked God
for his family, but not before John saw the look in his face and the shine of tears in his eyes.
Strangely enough, once those who’d decided to continue the journey moved to their cramped quarters aboard the Mayflower, their hopes rose.
Slowly, then with gathering speed, the Mayflower sailed away from England. John and Sarah watched England grow smaller and smaller, until it became only a speck in the distance. Even though they had never lived in England, their parents’ stories had sunk deep into their hearts. John couldn’t hold in his feelings when he saw slow tears spill from his parents’ eyes.
“Good-bye, King James, you miserable wretch,” he cried, loud enough so only Mother, Father, and Sarah could hear. Such talk was treason, and some of the London Strangers loyally followed the king and the Church of England. “I hope God punishes you for persecuting us just because we want to worship God in our own way!” He shook his fist at the retreating English shore.
“John!” Sarah’s horrified gasp made him realize what he’d done.
“That is quite enough.” Father’s arms shot out. His hands fastened on John’s shoulders, and he sternly looked at his son. “Never call down God’s punishment on anyone. It is a terrible thing to do.”
“Not even when they deserve it?”
The hint of a smile came to Father’s lips but disappeared so quickly John wondered if it had been there at all. “Nay, lad. God deals with all of us in His own time, in His own way.”
“I didn’t mean to say it out loud,” John explained. “The words just came.”
“It’s just as bad to think wicked things as to speak them,” Mother quietly said. “Remember the Scripture, ‘For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he.’ John, you must learn to hold that tongue of yours! It will get you into trouble again and again.” She shook her head. “Soon you will be a man. I fear for you. If you do not put away childish habits and learn to control your temper, how can you be a witness for the Master?” She sadly shook her head.
John bit his lip. He hated himself when he did something wrong and made Mother look like that. He glanced at Sarah. She stood with arms crossed and a worried expression on her face much like Mother’s, except it also held sympathy. John knew how tenderhearted she was. Sarah hurt as much as John when Father or Mother had to correct or punish him. She had also kept him out of trouble many times by not telling their parents of his mischief—including the incident with Klaus. Dr. Fuller also had remained silent after getting John’s promise that he would be more careful of what he said and did in the future.
Now John had failed again. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll try to do better.”
“You are forgiven.” Father’s hold on John tightened before his strong arms fell to his sides. The twinkle John thought he had seen a moment before returned and grew. “I confess, there have been times when I have felt the same way about King James and his men!”
“You?” John rocked back on his heels. His mouth dropped open.
“Aye. Then I remember that we are to forgive our enemies as our Father in heaven forgives us.” He smiled at the children,
took Mother’s arm, and led her away, leaving John and Sarah to stare after them in wonder.
Shocked by Father’s confession, John unthinkingly leaned against the ship’s rail. He failed to hear heavy steps pounding down the deck until Sarah gave a small warning cry of alarm. John turned, straight into two powerful, hairy arms!
CHAPTER 8
Pilgrims, Strangers, and Sailors
How many times d’ you gotta be told to stay away from that rail?” the sailor hissed. He yanked John back from the rail with such force the boy spun across the deck and landed on a pile of coiled rope! John lay still for a moment, unhurt but stunned by the unexpected attack. Sarah ran to him on flying feet. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Good intentions to stay out of trouble vanished. John leaped up, brushed his sister aside, and sprang to face the cowardly attacker who had jumped him from behind. The next instant, astonishment filled him. “Why, it’s—” His jaw dropped.
Sarah had recovered her wits enough to join her brother. “Mr. Klaus, whatever are you doing on the Mayflower?” she asked, pleasure lighting up her face.
Klaus grimly folded his arms across his brawny chest and continued to glower. “My name ain’t Mister an’ ‘tis a good thing fer you that I be aboard,” he sourly stated. “What’d I tell you about leanin’ on that rail?”
“I forgot.” John’s delight at seeing the sailor again overcame fear.
Klaus rudely snorted. “Better not be fergettin’ when I’m around. I ain’t fishin’ no more brats outta the drink, y’ hear me?” He scowled even more.
“How did you get here?” John persisted. “Sarah and I looked for you before the Speedwell left for London. William Bradford said it would be sold and go back to being a cargo ship, instead of trying to carry passengers.”
“Aye,” Klaus grunted. He heaved his wide shoulders into a shrug. “I’ve sailed the seven seas but ain’t seen the New World. All the jaw-flappin’ about it gave me a hankerin’ t’ see wi’ my own eyes.” He raised a shaggy eyebrow. “Got released from the Speedwell an’ signed on this’un.” Klaus threw out his chest with pride. “Ain’t no better sailor on board. Cap’n was glad t’ get me.”
A gleam in his eyes showed how proud Klaus was of being a good sailor. John also suspected he and Sarah had something to do with the big seaman’s decision to change ships.
He wisely held his tongue. Such a remark would surely bring back the scowl Klaus usually wore that had slipped away during their conversation.
“We’re glad you’re going with us,” Sarah politely said.
Klaus reached out a calloused hand, as if to touch her hair, then snatched it back. The scowl returned. “Some’un’s gotta look atter the pair o’ you,” he muttered. “Ain’t gonna be me, though.” He wheeled and strode away without a backward glance.
“Well, I never!” Sarah indignantly said. “Why can’t he be friendly?” She tilted her freckled nose and said in an exact imitation of the newcomer to the Mayflower, “ ‘Some’un’s gotta look atter the pair o’ you. Ain’t gonna be me, though!’ Who asked him to look after us is what I want to know,” she added in her normal voice.
John cocked his head. His eyes sparkled. “I’m glad he’s here. Besides, remember what Dr. Fuller said. You just never know. I have a feeling that before we reach America, we may be mighty glad Klaus is on board.” He made a face. “At least we have one friend among the crew. Most of the sailors hate us.”
“You never did tell me why.” Sarah trotted down the deck to keep up with her brother’s longer stride. Her dark braids bounced.
“They don’t like our prayers and hymns,” John explained. “Also, some of the Pilgrims treat the sailors as if they are so ignorant they aren’t worth anything except to keep the ship going. I wouldn’t like to be treated that way.”
“Perhaps that’s why I overheard a sailor say he’d like to throw half of us into the sea,” Sarah said. “Klaus said that to you, too, but I don’t think he meant it.”
“I don’t, either.” Suddenly John felt gloriously happy. Having Klaus with them made everything that much better. “If he got mad and threw me in, I’ll wager he’d jump right in and fish me out, in spite of everything he says!”
“I do, too,” Sarah giggled.
John went back to the subject of the sailors. “Do you know what they call us? ‘Glib-gabbety puke stockings!’ Just because our people get seasick. Isn’t that awful?”
Sarah stopped and put her hands on her hips. “It’s terrible. What right do they have to call us names? The sailors curse and use bad language, even in front of our women!”
“Once they get us safely to the New World, they’ll load the Mayflower with cargo and sail back to England,” John told her. “I wish Klaus would stay with us, but he probably wouldn’t make a very good landlubber.”
Sarah gave a peal of laughter. “Landlubber! You’r
e beginning to sound like a sailor, John Smythe.” She danced around in front of him, grinning. “Avast, me hearties, ‘tis a sail I see.”
“If Mother hears you talking like that, she’ll wash your mouth out with soap,” John warned, but he couldn’t help laughing. It was good to see Sarah happy. Most of the time Mother kept Sarah close beside her, unwilling for her daughter to be around the rough sailors.
John and Sarah soon made friends with the other children aboard, not only with the older children from Leiden, but also with the servants and children of the Strangers. They had to make their own fun. Sometimes it was watching the sailors, making sure to keep out of their way. At other times, they played with the few dogs aboard or with the ship’s cat.
Sarah liked to read the books William Brewster had brought, even if they were grown-up books.
John didn’t. “Why spend time reading when there is so much to learn?” he demanded. He explored all of the ship he could without getting into trouble. Anything to keep out of the damp, unpleasant sleeping quarters that held most of the passengers!
Captain Christopher Jones had moved to a small cabin so that about twenty of the persons he considered most important could sleep in his quarters. A few slept in a small shallop that would be used to explore the rivers of the New World. The rest of the passengers were crammed into the space below the main deck. The room was dim and nearly airless. Everyone slept on the floor. John longed to sleep topside with the sailors, but he had to stay with his family.
People wore the same clothes day after day. They put on everything they owned to keep from freezing in their unheated quarters. With only the salty seawater to wash themselves in, it was impossible to keep clean. Soon the smell of unwashed bodies and unwashed clothes became overpowering. When people became sick, the smell grew even worse. Could anyone stand it for two long months? The Pilgrims gritted their teeth and held on. So did the Strangers.
American Dream Page 5