by Wendy Lawton
Mary’s mother had insisted that the Weaver always directed the entire undertaking—now Mary could begin to see the pattern, and she knew her mother had the right of it.
When the time came for the Mayflower to make the trip back across the Atlantic, Captain Jones asked each person if they wanted to return to the safety of England. Mary thought of her family—Isabella, Ingle, and Christian—back in Holland. She still missed them. But as she looked ’round the room at the faces here—Constance, Elizabeth, Elder Brewster, Squanto, and her little band of children—she knew. Nay, she would not join Captain Jones; she would stay in Plymouth.
Not a single Pilgrim boarded the ship to sail back to England.
New life sprang up all around them. Now that the crops were in, the first wedding of the colonies would take place. Edward Winslow, who lost his wife in the sickness, and Susannah White, who lost her husband, announced that they planned to be married.
The trip to Corn Hill to return the borrowed seed took place soon after harvest. Everyone continued to work hard. Before long eleven houses lined the street. Each house had a good-sized garden space plotted out. Mary often sat with her children to dig in the warm loamy soil with clamshell scoops.
“Mary?” Remember sat in the garden with Mary. “Is this dirt so very different from the dirt in Leyden?”
“I cannot say, Remember.” How could Mary have forgotten her pouch of soil she carried all the way from Delft? “Next time we come to dig in the garden, I will bring soil from Holland and we will see.”
Harvest was plentiful, and they were able to add to the daily food ration for each family. When everything had been gathered together, the company looked over their blessings and decreed a celebration “after a more special manner,” the governor said, “to rejoice together.”
The children bubbled with excitement. “We will have a time of thanksgiving, Mary,” Bartholomew said as Mary and the children played near the springhouse. “We will eat and play games and—”
“We shall pray as well, Bartholomew.” Remember liked to correct her older brother.
“My mother and Priscilla and Dorothy and Desire have been cooking and cooking and cooking. Only other thing they been doing is making us stay out of the house,” Resolved complained.
“That’s because ’twill be such a feast, and ’tis likely to go on for days,” Mary said. “The Great Massasoit brings ninety guests with him. Did you see them leave to hunt deer to bring to the feast?”
Elizabeth walked over with Humility. “Do you know what we shall be eating?” She shook her head in wonder. “I just took Peregrine home and saw what they are preparing. Besides the venison, we shall have roast duck, roast goose, clams, fish, succulent eels, white bread, corn bread, leeks, watercress and other salad herbs, and dried berries. Can you believe it, Mary?”
“’N’ plums,” Humility added.
“That is true, wee girl, wild plums as well.” Elizabeth gave the tiny girl a kiss.
“Shall we scrub faces, wash hands, and go over to help spread the tables for the first meal, Mary?” Elizabeth asked.
“Scrub faces?” shrieked Bartholomew. “That will ruin the day for a certainty!”
“Elizabeth, can you take the children? I’d like to go home and get one of Mother’s tablecloths from the dower chest. ’Twould almost be like having Mother present at the feast. I shall be there presently.”
She ran home after washing her own face and hands. Opening the chest, she took out Mother’s linen tablecloth, smoothing her hands over the texture of the weaving. Aye, Mother, I have made a beginning to understand about the Weaver. Not everything, but some of it.
She looked at the bundles, still crammed in beside the chest. Heavenly Father, ’tis time. ’Tis time to thank You for Your provision. ’Tis time to acknowledge that You directed my path all the way home. That gnawing, aching longing for home—for a place to belong—that longing is gone. I still miss Mother and Father. I think I always shall. Mary dropped to her knee right there by the chest. Perhaps it matters not where I am, but that my home is in You. Father, I thank Thee. Amen.
As she leaned forward on the chest to push herself up, she saw the oilcloth bundle tucked into the pile. How could she have forgotten Isabella’s gift? She tied her pouch around her waist, put the tablecloth over her arm, and took Isabella’s gift.
The first meal of the harvest feast passed almost too quickly. The plentiful food, the table filled with friends both old and new, the children running, and the prayers of thanksgiving—it was all too good to be over so soon. Mary was glad this was only the first day of many.
Constance, carrying a sleeping Samuel, said, “This shall be one of those unforgettable memories, will it not?”
“Indeed,” whispered Mary, afraid to wake the sleeping infant. “Can you come with me? I need to find Elizabeth.”
They found Elizabeth and gathered their children.
“Mary wants to show us something!” said Little Mary.
“This is a gift my sister gave to me more than a year ago in Holland. I decided then to wait to open it until I was finally home.” Mary’s throat felt tight. “All this time I thought home was a place, but this afternoon I understand that God had indeed guided me home—home to Him, though it took me most of my life to realize it.”
“Open it, Mary,” Bartholomew said excitedly. “We want to see your present.”
Mary slowly untied the knots, remembering the terrible storm that they had weathered along the way. She took the oilcloth off and gave it to Constance. “Keep this to remind you of the storm we weathered.” Mary laughed. “’Twill be a grandmother memory.”
She unwrapped the linen wrapping and when she saw the contents, her eyes filled with tears. Isabella could not have given her a gift more dear.
“’Tis nothing but some old shriveled onions,” Resolved said with scorn and disappointment in his voice.
“Nay, my little friend, ’tis much more than that. Come with me.” Mary led the group over to the garden plot. Their clamshells were still poked in their most recent diggings.
Mary dug three holes in the raised bed. She opened her leather pouch and took out the hankie filled with soil. “Remember asked me if our Plymouth dirt was any different from our Holland soil. In all the sorrowing of the winter I forgot about these handfuls of dirt.” Mary untied the hankie. “This is dirt from Holland mixed with soil from up by the fort.” She put some of the soil into each of the holes she had made in the ground.
She took the “onions” out of the linen. “And these are lily bulbs. Come spring, the Madonna lilies that sprout will fair take your breath away.”
“Lilies? Oh, Mary.” Elizabeth knew how much flowers meant to Mary.
“Isabella remembered.” Mary had to stop for a minute. “Long ago, in Leyden, I prayed that I would one day have a garden with plenty of room in which to tuck flowers. I told the Lord that then I would know I was home.” Mary spread her arms wide. “Cramped into a tiny house in Leyden ’twas naught but a dream, but look! Look what we have spread before us.”
Mary gave the linen scrap to Elizabeth. “Keep this piece of linen, Elizabeth. It came from Leyden. You were right about God’s providence.” She folded the piece and gave it to her friend with a smile. “I shall tell you later about the Weaver.”
She put the bulbs into the ground and firmed the soil over the top. “In the sadness I forgot all about beauty and flowers. And all this time this gift sat among my bundles, waiting to remind me that I was almost home.”
The story of the Pilgrims’ journey to America is the story of God’s providence. Mary Chilton, Constance Hopkins, and Elizabeth Tilley were all actual passengers on the Mayflower. While we don’t have a record of what they actually said to each other, all the events in the book are true—right down to Francis Billington nearly blowing up the Mayflower.
Up until recent years, Mary Chilton’s family was always listed with the Strangers—those who were not part of the Separatist movement. Thanks
to recent researchers, records were found to prove that they were, indeed, Saints. The rock-throwing incident in Leyden really happened—the magistrate’s record of it helped place the Chiltons in Leyden. Another important discovery was the excommunication of Mary’s mother in Sandwich.
The treaty that Squanto helped forge between Massasoit and the Plymouth Colony lasted for decades, and the Pilgrims and the Native Americans lived together in peace and friendship.
Mary’s friend Fear Brewster stepped off the Anne in Plymouth Harbor in 1623. Mary’s sister Isabella and her family eventually came to America as well. The colony blended in a number of ways over the years. Mary grew up to marry John Winslow, who came to the colony on the Fortune, arriving just a few weeks after that first Thanksgiving. He was the brother of Edward Winslow, so Susannah White Winslow became Mary’s sister-in-law. Mary and John eventually had ten children of their own.
The “General Sickness” that took so many lives that first winter is thought to have been a combination of scurvy—a disease caused by the lack of vitamin C—and pneumonia. All the children who were orphaned that winter were welcomed into other families. Mary probably lived with the Standish or Alden families until she moved into the Winslow family when she eventually married.
The reason the study of the Pilgrims in America still intrigues us all these years later is that, as Americans, it is our story—a story of courage, faith, and perseverance against all odds.
Apothecary chest. A place where medicines were kept.
Barbaric. Cruel and primitive.
Bard. Singer-storyteller.
Bark-rigged. Rigged with three or more masts.
Baste; basting. To make long running stitches in fabric. Used to temporarily hold fabric together while permanent stitching is applied.
Belaying pin. A post on the deck of a ship used for tying sails and other things down.
Boathook. A pole with a hook on the end.
Bosun. The shortened word for boatswain, the person in charge of rigging and anchors, among other things, on a ship.
Brackish. Salty.
Brazier. A small coal or wood stove used for cooking, similar to modern grills.
Breeches. Short baggy pants that fastened under the knee.
Brocade. A type of fabric.
Cached. Stored in a hidden location for future use.
Chamber pot. A pot kept near the bed for nighttime bathroom use.
Coif. A head covering for girls and women made of white linen that covered the hair.
Confinement. The time of childbirth.
Cooper. Barrel maker.
Corselet. Hammered metal armor used to protect the body from arrows.
Dear. In this context, it meant that something was special, rare, or expensive and difficult to replace.
Dissenter. A person who did not agree with and follow the rules of the official Church of England.
Doublet. A jacket worn over a shirt that was sometimes padded or quilted.
Dower chest. A wooden chest in which girls would collect items that they would use for their own home once they were married. After marriage, the dower chest would be used for storage.
Dray. Wagon.
Excommunication. Banished from the official church, in this case, the Church of England.
Fortnight. Two weeks.
Halyard. A rope that is rigged to raise a sail.
Heel; heeled. Tip or lean.
Interfacing. An interlining between the lining and the outer fabric that shapes the garment.
Jurisdiction. The area that government authorities are in charge of and have control over.
Klompen. The Dutch word for wooden shoes.
Leading strings. Strips of fabric sewn to the child’s clothing at the shoulders that were used to help children learn to walk. Also used to control children’s movements.
Lief. Rather.
List. Tip or lean.
Magistrate. A government official.
Mevrow. The Dutch title for married women.
Mewling. Crying like a baby.
Mind. In this case, obey.
Minding. In this case, baby-sitting.
Mizzenmast. The third mast on a ship.
Mynheer. The Dutch title for men.
Nappies. Diapers.
Nicked. Stole.
Patent. An official document that gave permission to settle on certain land.
Pin poppet. A cloth organizer for straight pins.
Poppet. A term of endearment for children, in this case used for dolls.
Privy. An outhouse.
Quay. Wharf.
Ruffs. Large fancy ruffled fabric or lace worn around the neck.
Scurvy. An illness caused by the lack of vitamin C.
Separatists. Those wanting to remain separate from the Church of England because of theological disagreements.
Sticking plaster. A powder, when mixed with water, which made a plaster that was used to close wounds.
Sweetbag. A bag in which sewing supplies were kept.
Topsail. An upper sail.
Trencher. A flat piece of wood used as a plate.
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