American Dream

by Colleen L. Reece

  Rebekah thought of Holland where a small boy waited for a mother who would never come back to him. Her eyes stung. Please, God, Rebekah silently prayed, take care of William Bradford and his son. Keep little John safe. She wondered if Dorothy Bradford would be able to see her son from heaven.

  “Will?” Rebekah asked quietly. “How can people who don’t believe in God stand it when someone they care about dies?”

  “I don’t know.” Her brother stared out into the growing darkness. “We feel sad enough even though we know we will see them again in heaven.” He fiercely added, “It will be a lot better place than this! Just think of it, Rebekah. God and Jesus will be there, and no one will ever get sick or die again. Or be hungry. Or sad.”

  Rebekah pulled her cloak closer around her. “If Father or Mother die, how will we find them when we go to heaven?”

  “Don’t worry about it. They aren’t going to die for a long, long time,” Will told her.

  “They’re lots older than we are, so they probably will die first,” Rebekah said.

  “I never thought much about it.” Will paused. “I guess Jesus will make sure we find each other. It’s like Mother and Father are always saying: We just have to trust Him. No matter what happens—even if we die—we’ll be all right.”

  He shrugged, as though he were trying to shake such serious thoughts off his shoulders. “It’s getting dark, and we have to go below,” he said, changing the subject.

  “I wonder how long it will be until we set sail.”

  That Friday, four days after the return of the explorers, the ship hauled up its anchor and sailed into the bay. Neither Will nor Rebekah looked back at Provincetown Harbor. The spot held too much sadness. Strong headwinds slowed the Mayflower’s progress. It took until Saturday to cover roughly thirty miles across the bay. The ship anchored about a mile and a half from shore because the water was shallow.

  A foot of snow lay on the ground. Women shivered and stood close to their husbands and children. Children stared round-eyed. “We shall continue to live on board ship until we build shelters,” Governor Carver announced. “It will be necessary to take people and cargo ashore in the smaller boats.”

  Captain Jones looked sour. Jake had told Will and Rebekah that Jones wanted to get the Pilgrims off his ship as soon as possible. “Tired of yer company, he is, and wants to save his vittles,” Jake said.

  Now the children exchanged delighted glances. Their friend Jake would remain with them, at least for a time.

  The Sabbath passed in the usual manner, with prayers, psalms, and songs of praise. On Monday a band of armed men marched away to explore. Will wasn’t included this time, but he and Rebekah listened eagerly to their report when they returned.

  “It’s a good land,” one said. “The soil looks promising. Great sections are already cleared. There are signs that huge cornfields once existed, although they don’t appear to have been planted for at least a year. It looks like the Indians just up and abandoned them for no reason at all.”

  Rebekah couldn’t help asking, “Why would they do that?” She was glad when her father repeated her question loud enough for everyone to hear.

  A puzzled look crossed the speaker’s face, and he rubbed his bearded chin. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Another man eagerly put in, “We discovered berry bushes, timber, clay, and gravel. There is a high hill well suited to the building of a fort. From it, we can see the harbor and the country all around. It’s ideal for defense, with a place for our cannon. We also found a clear, running stream of good water.”

  Governor Carver looked around the assembly. “What more can we ask for than already-cleared land, sweet water, and a fine view of the surrounding area?” He hesitated and spread his arms wide. “We are ill prepared to meet the many challenges of this land. Yet we have all that is needed.”

  His voice rang out, and he counted on his fingers. “First, we have faith: in Almighty God and in ourselves. Second, we have courage. Did we not cross an ocean known for claiming ships and passengers? Third, we have good sense. Fourth, we have determination. Here, by the grace of God, we will build our colony, our home—and we shall call it New Plymouth.”

  Mighty cheers rose from the company, Will’s and Rebekah’s among them.

  Governor Carver immediately ordered twenty of the strongest men to go ashore in the shallop and begin cutting wood. When a wild storm blew in, Rebekah knew that this time Will wasn’t at all disappointed that he had to stay on ship. The anchored Mayflower tossed violently. The waves were so high the shallop could not get back. Those in the woodcutting party found themselves marooned and miserable for a few days.

  One day, as Rebekah and Mother were mending clothes with the other women, Mary Allerton gasped.

  Mother gave her a knowing look. “Is it time?” she asked. “Aye,” said Mary.

  “Quick, Rebekah,” Mother instructed. “Clear out a corner for us in the sleeping quarters. Tell anyone who asks that it’s time for Mary’s baby to be born. Then get a bucket of water and some clean rags.” Without waiting for an answer, Mother quickly turned to one of the other women, asking her to help get Mary safely down the ship’s ladder.

  Rebekah hurried to obey Mother. As soon as the other passengers understood what was happening, they created a private corner for Mary. One of the men went off to let Isaac Allerton know his wife was about to give birth.

  When Rebekah returned with the water and rags, she could see that Mother was worried. Something wasn’t right. Rebekah stood beside Mary and wiped the young woman’s face with a cool cloth. The birth seemed to be taking forever.

  Finally, a beautiful baby was born—but it never opened its eyes or took a breath.

  As Mary hugged her lifeless baby and cried, Rebekah quietly stroked Mary’s back, trying to comfort her. Everyone had been looking forward to the birth of another baby. But instead of feeling joy, they were now full of sorrow.

  Soon, Christmas Day came. The Pilgrims considered Christmas a pagan holiday and did not celebrate it, but the others on ship had a small feast. They invited the Pilgrims to join them.

  Knowing the weather would soon become even colder, people worked harder than ever. Some cut trees. Others split the logs. The first thing to be built was a twenty-foot-square “common house” to store tools and house the workmen, as well as serve as a shelter for the sick and a church.

  Rebekah again felt as though all she did was work, work, work. From before daylight until long after dark, there were jobs to be done. Will was as busy as she was. Everyone needed food and shelter. Muscles that had gotten little exercise during the months on the Mayflower quickly grew sore from the hard work.

  “At least everyone being so busy keeps them from arguing and quarreling with each other,” Rebekah whispered to Will one night.

  He moved his sore shoulders and yawned. “That’s ‘cause if everyone doesn’t work together, none of us will survive,” he told her. “There are a few who complain about our leaders. They say they were better off under the king of England’s rule than starving in America.”

  He sighed and patted his growling stomach. “I know we need to finish the common house, but how I wish some of us could go hunting or fishing! We’ll have to wait until next year for ripe berries and fruit and nuts, but scouts say there’s a lot of seafood and waterfowl.” He licked his lips. “I’d give anything for the leg of a roasted duck.”

  “So would I.” Rebekah shifted position and rubbed her aching back. “I am tired, tired, tired. Sometimes I think if I have to carry another bucket of water for cooking, bathing, or washing clothes, I’ll scream! I won’t, though. Mother stays so cheerful and always has such a sweet smile, I can’t complain to her. Just to you.”

  “That’s good.” Will yawned again, opening his mouth so wide Rebekah wondered if he’d dislocated his jaw. “Father and Mother are working even harder than we are. Besides, what good would complaining do? The work still has to be done.”

  “It ne
ver ends.” Rebekah drooped against her brother’s shoulder. “When Mother and I aren’t cooking and washing and mending clothing for our own family, we help those who are too sick from scurvy and pneumonia to take care of their families. There’s no time to spin and weave cloth for more clothing.”

  She put a rough hand to her mouth to nurse a sore finger. “Ow! Making torches from pine logs leaves my hands full of splinters. We have to have something to see by, though. I can hardly wait for spring, so we can dip wicks into melted fat and make candles. We’re also running low on soap.” She made a face. “I hate making soap. It’s so hot stirring the lye and fat in the big kettles over the fire.”

  “Poor Rebekah. I’m tired, too.”

  Rebekah looked at the dark circles under her brother’s eyes and knew he was speaking the truth. If only they didn’t have to work so hard! Yet if everyone didn’t do all that they could, their small group would never survive the winter.

  Once the common house was built, families built their own homes. Father built a simple thatched hut that looked like an Indian lodge. Some of the settlers made dugout caves in the hillside. Single men lived with families to cut down on the need for houses, and plot sizes were determined by family sizes. New

  Plymouth was laid out in the shape of a cross to make it easier to defend. A sturdy stockade surrounded it.

  Will and Rebekah soon learned how unforgiving their new home could be. Peter Browne and Will Goodman took their dogs when they went to collect reeds for thatching. They didn’t return that afternoon, so Myles Standish sent out a search party. No trace of the two men could be found.

  That night, everyone in New Plymouth wondered where the two men were. The next day, the men returned and told their story. Their dogs had scared up a deer. Eager to bring in fresh meat, the two men followed. They got lost in the woods. Noises like the howling of wolves terrified them, and they wandered all night in the forest. Will Goodman’s shoes had to be cut off his frostbitten feet. He died a few days later.

  When Rebekah learned what had happened, she tried to be brave. Yet her heart filled with fear every time Father or Will left New Plymouth. The only way she could bear their leaving was to remind herself how much God loved them. Rebekah tried to hide her worries, but she felt sure Will suspected her secret. He never said anything, but almost every time he returned, he brought her a pinecone, a curious shell, or a funny story. They made her feel a little better.

  But it was hard to be brave when so many in their company were falling sick … and many were dying. Sometimes, Rebekah wondered if this new world was trying to punish them for invading its shores. When she looked at the cold, rocky ground, she felt as though it were an enemy. Thoughts like that made her shiver. Her only comfort was to whisper a prayer, knowing that God understood her fears.

  Will never seemed to be afraid. He loved to go out with the men. All the strangeness, all the adventures, still excited him. But the day came that Captain Standish said Will had to stay behind when the men went out hunting. “It is growing too cold,” Captain Standish said, “and we do not know what dangers the weather will bring. Too many of you are sick, and we cannot risk losing more of our company. Only the strongest men can accompany me.”

  Rebekah was relieved. She did not like knowing both her brother and father were facing unknown dangers. She would sleep better if at least Will were home with her and Mother.

  But Will was furious. “I am not a child,” he said between his teeth. “I am as strong as any of those men.”

  Rebekah giggled. “No, you’re not, Will. You’re only a boy.”

  Will’s face grew red, and his eyes were bright with anger. Rebekah’s heart sank. She knew that look. It was the look Will always wore when he was filled with rebellion.

  Right before he got in trouble.

  CHAPTER 5

  Where Is Will?

  I’m going to follow the men,” Will told Rebekah when they were alone. “I’ll catch up with them, and then they’ll have to let me go along with them. I’ll show them I’m strong enough to be one of them.”

  “Don’t, Will,” Rebekah begged.

  But her brother would not listen. “Promise me you won’t tell Mother,” he said. “Not until I’m gone.”

  Reluctantly, Rebekah nodded. With a curious feeling of foreboding, she watched Will march away. She already regretted her promise not to tell Mother where he was headed.

  He’s been good, she tried to tell herself. This is the first time in ages he’s done something he knows he shouldn’t. She sighed. But I would feel better if I knew for sure that Will found the hunting party. Then even if he got in trouble, I’d know he was safe.

  Rebekah stared into space, deciding what to do. With Mother, Father, and Will busy around the new settlement, she was responsible for most of the home chores. She had more than enough work to get done that afternoon without worrying about Will. Suddenly, a smile crossed her face. She reached for her cloak that was hanging on a peg by the door and quickly stepped outside. With hurried steps, she headed toward the sentry.

  “Where be ye off to in such a hurry, little Miss Rebekah?” asked the guard.

  “I was wondering if you saw my brother, Will,” Rebekah said.

  “Aye, he left a few minutes ago to catch up with the hunting party. With those long legs of his, he’s probably with them right now. Did you need to get a message to him?”

  “Oh, no,” Rebekah said, a relieved smile crossing her face. “I just wasn’t sure if he had left yet. Thank you for your help.”

  With a nod of her head, she turned back to the small hut Father had built for their family. Removing her cloak, she quickly began catching up on her work.

  Rebekah and Will slept in a loft above the one main room where the family cooked and lived. Each night, the children climbed a ladder and slept on beds made from straw mattresses on the floor. Now Rebekah climbed up to the loft to shake the mattresses and smooth them out. She also tidied the sheets, blankets, and rugs they had brought from Holland. They never put the rugs on the earth floor. Instead, they kept them on the beds for added warmth.

  Scrambling down the ladder again, Rebekah shook out Father and Mother’s straw mattress. As soon as he had time, Father would make rope springs so they could have better beds, but Rebekah wished they could someday have featherbeds. The linen bags filled with goose feathers made soft mattresses in summer and warm coverlets in winter.

  “I should be thankful for what we have,” she told the warm room. Father had laid wooden boards across two wooden sawhorses for their table. At night, he put the boards against the wall to make room for the mattress. They had no chairs. Father always said, “When there is only one chair in a household, the man sits in it while his wife and children stand. I cannot be like them. Nay. Will and I shall make a bench, and we will all sit together. One day we shall have enough chairs for all.”

  A quick glance at the fireplace that provided light, warmth, and a place to cook showed it needed wood. The corners of Rebekah’s mouth turned down. It always needed wood. Sometimes she felt the fireplace was a greedy beast that sulked when she didn’t feed it enough.

  The thought made her laugh, a pleasant sound in the small room. How hard they had worked to gather their wood! She and Mother picked up fallen branches. Will and Father split and sawed. The whole family had carried the split wood to their home and built a great mound just outside the rough wooden door.

  After Rebekah had added wood to the fire, she straightened the everyday clothing hanging on wooden pegs on the wall. Their Sabbath clothing lay in a chest, along with extra bedclothes. Mother often warned them about being careful of their clothes. What they had brought with them would have to last for a long, long time.

  Rebekah was so involved in her work that she didn’t notice how late it was getting. A sharp gust of wind at the corner of the hut reminded her. She ran outside.

  An army of storm clouds played tag across the sky. Rebekah shivered from the cold. “At least Will had sense e
nough not to go off hunting by himself,” she whispered. “Surely the hunting party will start for home when they see the dark sky.” But in the deep woods, would the men notice how dark it was getting?

  Rebekah shook her head and went back inside. She stood by the fireplace to get warm and wondered if Father and Will would return before the storm hit. Memories of Will Goodman dying so soon after he got lost in the woods troubled Rebekah. But what could she do?

  “I can pray,” Rebekah told the crackling fire. She plopped down on her knees before the blazing fire.

  “Dear God, please be with Will and Father and the other men. Will did wrong to run after the hunting party, but You know how he gets sometimes. You understand him even better than I do.” Rebekah stayed on her knees for a long time, and when she got up, she felt better. Now if only Will and Father would come home soon!

  “We may have venison stew for supper,” Will had promised her before he left. Rebekah’s mouth watered. Yet as each minute passed, a cold knot of fear grew in the pit of her stomach. Three times she wrapped up in her cloak, went outdoors, and peered into the worsening storm. But she saw no sign of Will or the hunting party.

  Again and again, she wondered what to do. Another hour went by. Rebekah’s smile had long since vanished. She continued to wait for her father and brother, a prayer on her lips, fear in her heart.

  At last, Mother arrived, rosy-faced and chilled. “Ah, that is good, child!” She hung her wet cloak on the peg closest to the fireplace and held her hands out to warm them. Then she looked around the little room. “Where is Will?”

  Rebekah hesitated. She would not lie, but the faint hope that Will would come soon made her say, “I don’t know. He went out.” All true, she told herself.

  “Where can he be? I didn’t see him.” Mother looked worried.

  “Do you think Father will come home soon?” Rebekah ventured to ask. “I hate it when he is gone. Especially after what happened to Will Goodman.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “So many people have died since we left Holland….”