The Mayflower Bride

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  As he ran up to the main deck, William spotted Master Jones at the main mast. A giant crack ran down the post into the deck of the ship.

  “Get me the carpenter!” Jones yelled into the wind. Sailors ran in every direction.

  Rain splattered William’s face and dripped down his chin. “Sir! Might I be of assistance? I’m a carpenter.”

  “Aye. I remember you, Lytton. We will need every hand and mind that can help.” The master waved his hand. “Follow me.”

  William walked with several of the crew into the steerage room that housed the whipstaff. The tiny room couldn’t hold many, but at least they were out of the rain and wind and would be able to hear each other.

  Master Jones cleared his throat and held a hand up in the air. “Men, we need to determine the extent of the damage down into the ship from the crack that is in the main mast, and then we need to know how to fix it. We’re already too far into the voyage to turn back, if we could even make it. We are low on supplies and rations and too many are sick.”

  “Sir.” John Clarke—the ship’s pilot—spoke up. “The crack goes down into the gun deck, but not into the cargo hold. It’s created a good-sized leak.”

  “Can we stop the leak?” Jones stood with his hands behind his back.

  “If we can fix the crack.” Clarke nodded.

  “How is she under water?” The master looked to Coppin.

  “She’s holding firm, sir.”

  “Good.”

  The faces around William showed fear, uncertainty, and questions. Even the master of the ship seemed concerned with their great problem. But what were they to do? Then it hit him. “Master Jones?”

  “Yes, Mr. Lytton.”

  “I recall seeing a great house jack being loaded onto the ship.”

  “House jack?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s like a great iron screw to help raise up beams and such when building houses.”

  The master’s eyebrows raised. “Go on.”

  “If we were to use it to raise the beam into place, we could secure the mast with another post.” William could see it in his mind but wasn’t sure the captain of their ship would understand. After all, he was a skilled carpenter on land. Not at sea.

  The ship’s carpenter and John Alden joined them in the steerage room. “What needs to be done?” John’s voice was always one of action.

  Jones nodded to his carpenter. “Mr. Lytton here thinks that if we use the machinery he called a house jack, we could hoist the beam into position and brace it. Do you think it can be done?”

  The smaller man nodded and drops of water splashed around him. “Aye, sir.”

  “Then you two get to work on the plan. The rest of the men will do whatever needs to be done to help. Once the mast is repaired, I’ll need the carpenters to caulk everything they can and stop the leaking.”

  William followed the ship’s carpenter out of the room. “Do you think it will work?”

  “We better pray for a miracle, because if it doesn’t work, we’ll all be on the bottom of the sea by morning.”

  The Mayflower groaned and creaked with each plunge into the swells. William had lost count of how many times he’d been thrown to the deck by the crashing waves. But they had to fix the main mast, or all their hopes were lost.

  John Alden worked next to him as they cranked the house jack to lift the beam back into position.

  Master Jones yelled above the raging storm, “We need more hands on those supports!”

  It didn’t help that with every wave another man fell down. If they could keep everyone upright at the same time, they might make some progress.

  “Lord, we could use some divine assistance.” John’s voice as he prayed and worked next to William had lost its usual confidence.

  Dripping wet and weary from their efforts, the men stayed at it. No one wanted to go down with a ship.

  “Heave!” Coppin yelled. “Just a few more inches.”

  Grunts and moans echoed around him as they worked to correct the beam. The house jack was working. Now if they could just get it back together and secure the supports in place.

  Thunk! The beam snapped back into place.

  “Secure the supports!” Master Jones eyed the men from his perch atop the poop deck.

  Water sprayed over William’s shoulder as another large wave shook the boat and rolled it larboard.

  William held his support in place as John secured it.

  “Get those women below deck now!” Jones sounded angry.

  Women? What women? Looking over his shoulder while he held the support, William spotted Dorothy’s and Mary Elizabeth’s heads peeking out the opening of the companionway. Worry etched their faces as rain pelted them from above. He shook his head. Why weren’t they going below?

  The Mayflower rocked hard to steerboard, and William’s feet flew out from under him. Water rushed over his head and body as he was washed to the bulwark.

  Grasping for anything he could get his hands on, William felt panic rise up in his throat. It couldn’t end this way. He wasn’t ready.

  “Help!” The cry was drowned by water filling his mouth.

  But the waves were too strong and too tall, the ship was almost on its side as it heaved up onto another swell. When it came down, he’d be tossed overboard.

  Lord, please save the ship and her passengers …

  William closed his eyes as the seconds stretched, and he tried to grab for a hold. When he opened them, he was tossed upside down and then bounced off the bulwark and over the side.

  “William!” Mary’s scream was filled with anguish, and he could do nothing to comfort her.

  This was the end.

  CHAPTER 13

  No!” Mary Elizabeth choked on the word. Tears blurred her already watery vision. Turning into Dorothy’s arms, she wanted to jump into the water and save him. Why William? Why, Lord?

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Thunder rumbled above their heads.

  She sobbed into her friend’s shoulder.

  Dorothy gasped. “Mary Elizabeth. Look.” Her friend grabbed her shoulders and made her turn.

  As the ship shifted and rolled to lean to the other side, John Alden hung over the bulwark at his waist, his legs kicking in the air. Mr. Coppin jumped to grab John’s legs and then sat on the deck and pulled.

  Could it be?

  “I’ve got him!” John’s shout could be heard from the other side of the bulwark.

  Mary Elizabeth let out the breath she’d been holding. Was it true?

  Several other men went to assist in the efforts, and John was pulled up so only his arms hung over the ship.

  He grimaced as they all strained to pull until a booted leg appeared grasped in John’s hand. Within seconds, a sputtering William Lytton lay on the deck of the ship. He reached up for John’s hand and nodded.

  Mary Elizabeth couldn’t wait any longer. She climbed up the rest of the steps and half ran, half slipped her way to William. “Are you hurt?”

  The smile that stretched across his face melted her heart. He reached up a finger to touch her cheek. “I couldn’t be better.”

  His brilliant blue eyes bore into hers. She wanted to relish his touch on her face for all her days.

  “Get below deck. Now!” Master Jones’s command was not to be disobeyed.

  Nodding, she raced back to the companionway and looked back at William. Oh, how she loved that smile …

  Mary Elizabeth woke with a start. The stench below deck reminded her that she was no longer watching William be rescued. But he was alive, and she would be forever grateful.

  She sat up and scooted next to her father. When she touched his brow, it felt warm. But as she was still chilled from her adventure top deck, Mary Elizabeth couldn’t gauge if he was too warm. One thing was certain—he’d gotten weaker and slept almost around the clock. What could she do for him?

  As the waves continued to toss the Mayflower about and thunder cracked and sounded like cannons above
them, Mary Elizabeth prayed. For Father’s health. For the men working on the main mast. Were they done? For William and John. For the seas to calm and for the leaks to be stopped. And most fervently—that their journey would be over soon.

  They all desperately needed to see land. To smell fresh air, and to be dry and warm. No water seeping in through the gun ports. No dark and smelly confined quarters.

  After this journey, she would never complain about her circumstances ever again. She would be joyful and praise the Lord.

  Father’s favorite song from the psalter they used in church back home came to mind. As she sang softly to her father, the words ministered to her own burdened heart:

  All people that on earth do dwell,

  Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice.

  Him serve with fear, His praise forth tell;

  Come ye before Him and rejoice.

  The Lord, ye know, is God indeed;

  Without our aid He did us make,

  We are His flock, He doth us feed,

  And for His sheep He doth us take.

  O enter then His gates with praise;

  Approach with joy His courts unto;

  Praise, laud, and bless His Name always,

  For it is seemly so to do.

  For why? The Lord our God is good;

  His mercy is forever sure;

  His truth at all times firmly stood,

  And shall from age to age endure.

  To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

  The God whom Heaven and earth adore,

  From men and from the angel host

  Be praise and glory evermore.

  The drippy, leaky ship couldn’t take away that God’s mercy was forever sure. The winds and the rain couldn’t deny that His truth would endure. No matter if the mast was fixed or not. Nor if the ship even sank.

  God’s truth would endure.

  The words that the apostle Paul wrote to the church in Philippi came to her, and she said the words aloud. “I speak not because of want: for I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. And I can be abased, & I can abund: every where in all things I am instructed both to be full, & to be hungry, & to abund, & to have want. I am able to do all things through the help of Christ, which strengtheneth me.”

  The depth of the words struck her heart. She could be content in whatever circumstances she faced…because she had the help of Christ. What a powerful thought.

  Bolstered by the words of scripture and the song, Mary Elizabeth leaned over her father and kissed his forehead. She looked at little David and smiled. Everything would be all right because God was good, and she would rejoice. No matter what happened.

  As she stood to go check on the others, Mary Elizabeth realized how much she’d changed over the past few weeks. The tragedy of losing Mother had almost broken her. Or so she thought. But she’d needed to learn how to give it over to God the Father. She needed to know that His strength and peace were always with her. For so long, she’d thought of herself as timid and afraid. Never courageous. But now, somehow, her thinking had changed.

  Reaching the companionway, Mary Elizabeth had to slosh through an inch or so of water. As she looked up through the opening to the deck above, rain poured down on her and on the men working so hard on the ship.

  William was one.

  She crept back up the steps. Just to see his face again. Watching the men, well—if she were honest—watching William, made Mary Elizabeth all too aware of his masculinity. Moving away from the opening, she knew her mind needed guarding above all else. What would Father say if he knew she’d been watching William not out of curiosity or worry, but with appreciation and attraction?

  Yet after his harrowing fall and rescue, Mary Elizabeth’s heart knew the truth. She cared for him. Far more than she’d admitted to herself.

  She shook her head and went to check on Mrs. Hopkins and the new baby. Best to keep her mind on other things. If only Mother were still alive, she could talk to her about the struggle.

  Dorothy was holding the baby when Mary Elizabeth reached the Hopkinses’ quarters. “Oh, Mary Elizabeth. Isn’t he just the most gorgeous baby?”

  She nodded. “He is.” Kneeling down beside her friend, Mary Elizabeth watched the little fingers move. They were so tiny. What a miracle.

  “Would you like to hold him?” Mrs. Hopkins tilted her head and smiled.

  Mary Elizabeth loved babies and ached to hold the little guy again. “I’d love to.”

  Dorothy leaned toward her in slow, gentle movements. As she placed the tiny bundle in Mary Elizabeth’s arms, Oceanus opened his eyes and looked up.

  “Oh my …” Mary Elizabeth breathed.

  Little Oceanus studied her face for a moment and then closed his eyes again.

  “Mary Elizabeth, you have the touch.” Mrs. Hopkins shifted on her bed. The woman grimaced as she moved.

  Swaying back and forth with the baby, Mary Elizabeth let the rolling of the ship guide her rhythm. “Are you feeling all right, Mrs. Hopkins?”

  “A bit sorer than the last one, but that’s to be expected when giving birth in the middle of a storm.”

  Dorothy stood. “Perhaps some food sounds good?”

  The woman sighed. “That sounds lovely, thank you.”

  “You’ll need to build up your strength. Especially after the seasickness.” Mary Elizabeth stared down at the wee one as she spoke to his mother. “This little one will need his strength too. He has lots of growing to do.” The soft fuzz on top of his head reminded her of velvet.

  “Here we are.” Dorothy’s singsong voice made the baby squirm. “I’ve got some dried meat and cheese.”

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth Hopkins sighed. “Won’t it be nice to cook something different once we reach the new land?”

  Mary Elizabeth stifled a laugh. “Yes. I don’t even care what we have, as long as it is something different.”

  “When we first set out”—Dorothy sat back down—“I didn’t know if I could handle any more fish after weeks of it. But now I would love to eat it again.”

  Mary Elizabeth laughed at her friend’s dramatic expression. “I agree. The men haven’t been able to fish in these storms, but I’ll take fresh fish over dried meat every day.”

  Mrs. Hopkins nodded as she chewed the dried food.

  A new thought struck Mary Elizabeth. “We sound a lot like the Israelites, don’t we? The Lord provided manna for them, yet they asked for something else.”

  The ladies laughed together. And Oceanus woke up with a cry.

  “I believe someone is hungry as well.” Mrs. Hopkins reached for her son.

  “We’ll be back to check on you later.” Rising up, Mary Elizabeth smiled down. “Dorothy or I will make sure the children are fed.”

  “Thank you.”

  As she and Dorothy made their way toward another family, William and another man came down the steps.

  “Good day, Mr. Lytton.” Dorothy tugged on Mary Elizabeth’s arm.

  “Good day, ladies.” He smiled at Mary Elizabeth.

  “I’m so thankful you’re safe.” Mary Elizabeth couldn’t keep the words inside. “I was so worried when I saw you go over.”

  “Well, I’m a bit bruised from the tumble and soaked through to my bones, but God spared me, and for that, I am grateful.” He stared into her eyes.

  She stared back, unwilling to break the connection.

  Dorothy cleared her throat.

  “Yes, well. We have the mast secured, and now we must caulk as much as we can to seal off the leaks.” William looked at Dorothy.

  “That sounds like a big job.” Her friend continued the conversation and poked her elbow into Mary Elizabeth’s side.

  She stopped staring and looked to her feet. What could she do with these feelings? When William went over the side, she thought her heart would wrench in two. This was all so new, and she didn’t understand it. “It is a large task, and we must get to it.” The other man with William ducked and headed towa
rd the bow.

  William nodded to them. “I’d better get to work, as well.” He turned toward the stern.

  The thought of the strong, tarry scent of the oakum cords they would need to stuff into the cracks didn’t sound appealing. But then again, that smell would be better than the stench of sickness. Dorothy pinched Mary Elizabeth’s arm.

  “Ow. What was that for?” Mary Elizabeth watched William work his way to the back of the gun deck.

  “You were staring. What’s going on?” Hands on her hips, Dorothy squinted her eyes.

  Mary Elizabeth wasn’t sure what to say. “I…well …”

  “I noticed the way he smiled at you. Mary Elizabeth, you can talk to me.”

  “Hush your words, Dorothy. I don’t need everyone listening in.” Mary Elizabeth grabbed her friend’s elbow and walked over to the companionway. They’d get wet, but at least there weren’t as many listening ears. She took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about William a lot.”

  “Aye. And …?”

  “I realized a little bit ago that I’ve been…well …”

  “Go on ….”

  “Appreciative of his looks.” There she said it.

  Dorothy put a hand to her mouth. When she uncovered it again, a small smile at the corner of her mouth appeared. “Mary Elizabeth, I already guessed that you liked the man. I think it’s a bit more than an appreciation for his looks. You nearly clawed your way across the deck when he went over. I think you need to be honest.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. Her friend was correct. “It’s difficult for me. I don’t…well, I haven’t felt this way before.” What was she trying to say? And what would Dorothy think?

  “It’s plain to see that you care for him, Mary Elizabeth.” Dorothy touched her arm. “And I’m happy for you.”

  “But don’t you understand?” She lowered her voice to the barest of whispers. “I can’t be unequally yoked. He’s a Stranger. And it’s not pure to have such thoughts.”

  “What kind of thoughts are we talking about?” Dorothy’s smile turned into a frown.

  “Just that. He’s very handsome. And masculine…and strong. He’s also smart and caring. He appears to be a very good carpenter and a hard worker.”