The Mayflower Bride

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  William didn’t even want to think about the number who’d died.

  If truth be told, the only thing that kept him going was his newfound faith. If he hadn’t found the Lord on the journey over, William would’ve wanted to quit and head back with the crew to England.

  But Master Jones wasn’t even sure when he could leave. There weren’t enough places to house the people who would be staying, and a good portion of his crew had fallen sick.

  The times continued to oppress them.

  Was this what it was like for the early believers? The past few days had given William lots of time to read God’s Word, and he found that there were so many different passages that spoke on suffering for the sake of Christ and how to rejoice in the midst of suffering. Since it was addressed so much, he could only assume that there was a good reason.

  There’d obviously been a lot of persecution—William knew of it from the bits of history that Paul had taught him—and he’d been learning of the persecution so many had suffered from the Church of England. From Bloody Mary to King James, differing beliefs could put lives on the line.

  Last night while the winds howled around them, Elder Brewster talked about when their congregation had first fled England. It took years and several tries to get everyone together. They’d been betrayed, robbed, and imprisoned.

  All for their faith.

  While William had joined the journey to the New World for a fresh start and what he hoped would be a grand adventure, it had turned into so much more than that. He’d found life. And he’d found Mary Elizabeth.

  But the price had been high. For everyone.

  The thought of losing Mary Elizabeth and David struck his heart. It was a good thing he hadn’t learned of their sickness until they were on the mend. Who knew what he would have done to get back to them and help. The doubts of his past plagued him on a daily basis, and he felt battle weary from the attacks.

  But prayer was a beautiful thing. As soon as he laid his burdens down at the heavenly Father’s feet, he knew he’d done the right thing.

  His thoughts returned to the colony. And his journal. Would they be able to recover from such hardship? At this point, it would be a miracle if they survived, and they hadn’t even thought about how to repay the company. The Mayflower would need to return to England, and even after all this time, the colonists had nothing to send back to put into the company’s coffers. In fact, they needed more help—which would put them into greater debt.

  John Carver had a heavy burden to bear—to be sure. As elected governor of their group, he was the leader and the one ultimately responsible for the decisions made.

  The Compact they’d signed would ensure that the people would have their say. That’s why votes had been cast about the settlement location and also about the layout of the town. But they still needed a strong leader.

  In the glow of the firelight, William flipped through the pages of the Bible Elder Brewster let him borrow. The book of Acts fascinated him. Reading about the early church and how they cared for one another. Whether rich or poor, station or no station, they pulled all their monies together to clothe each other and feed everyone.

  No wonder the Saints wanted to be separate from the Church of England. It had gotten away from what scripture demonstrated a church should do.

  It was full of rituals and readings and ceremonies. While people’s hearts might be in the right place, they were following man-made rules and mandates rather than scripture.

  Paul had taken him to church the whole seven years he’d lived in the older man’s care. But Paul seemed to believe very much like the Separatists—that scripture was the final authority. But they’d gone to the church in London, anyway. When William was younger, he’d asked a lot about the rituals they seemed to go through because he’d been bored. Paul’s response was that it wasn’t right to forsake the fellowship of the brethren. There would never be a perfect church because it was filled with imperfect people.

  William never understood that until he read Hebrews, chapter ten: “And let us consider one another, to provoke unto love, & to good works, Not forsaking the fellowship that we have among our selves, as the manner of some is: but let us exhort one another, & that so much the more because ye see that the day draweth near.”

  Paul had been raised in the church of England, and even though later in life he disagreed with some of the practices, he still found the fellowship he needed there. It might not have been what he wanted in a church, but he had remained faithful.

  The difference between Paul’s faith and the Saints’ wasn’t great—if there was any at all. But now William began to understand why Paul had urged him to go with the Separatists.

  “He wanted to go himself but couldn’t.” As he said the words aloud, a moment of comprehension struck him.

  William remembered a conversation he’d had with Paul before he died. At the time, he hadn’t understood it at all …

  “If only I’d had the courage to do it long ago, things would be different. Maybe I could help you more. But I stayed in my comfortable place—even though the Lord prodded me on.”

  “You’ve helped me more than you will ever know. There’s nothing for you to regret.”

  “Oh, but there is, my boy. I can’t let you make the same mistake. It’s time for you to make the most of your life. Throw off the past and follow God. The Separatists have done it right.”

  A rush of emotion filled his chest as he remembered the dear man’s words. At the time, William was still too hardened and bitter to understand. But now he did.

  The man had loved him like a son and wanted him to serve the Lord.

  As all the events of the past few months filled his memories, William knew one thing to be true.

  God was in control. He had directed their steps thus far. William would trust Him the rest of the way. No matter the cost.

  Hunting for fowl was not Peter’s choice of labor, but it was better than chopping and trimming logs or gathering thatch.

  And they all needed food. He felt like he could eat an entire goose himself.

  Today had not been a productive day, though. He missed every bird he’d shot at. If he could just kill one, he’d build a fire and roast it up. Forget about sharing with the rest of the men.

  Several deer passed by his hiding spot. Venison had never been popular in England, and he had no idea what to do with it, but the thought of a big steak sure made his mouth water. None of the men had experience hunting the game, but maybe he could show them all by snagging one.

  Crouching down into the grass, Peter took aim. A twig snapped under his elbow, and the deer skittered off into the trees.

  This whole trip had been a waste of time. It was miserable, they were almost out of beer, and he’d been sick twice. More people died each week, and he determined he wasn’t going to be one of them. He had no desire to work his fingers to the bone and live in some tiny thatched hut. That might be good enough for the others, but not for him.

  No way was he going to stay here unless the company paid him a lot of money. And right now the job belonged to someone else.

  Something he needed to change. And soon.

  Wednesday, 28 February 1620/1

  Twenty-five people were dead. Just in the past two months. William thrust his pick into the ground on the small hill they were using as their burial ground. He’d almost spent as much time burying people as he had building the small buildings the rest would soon live in. The thought made him shake his head.

  As he’d spent more time with the elders and men of the Separatist congregation, he’d come to find that memorizing scripture was a vital part of faith. That way he could keep it on his mind and heart just like Psalm 119:11 read.

  The verse he’d memorized this morning was from 2 Corinthians. Chapter four, verse nine. He said the words aloud to banish the discouraging thoughts as he dug another grave. “ ‘We are persecuted, but not forsaken; cast downe, but we perish not.’ ”

  Many of the men ha
d shared the same verse with him—they probably all needed the encouragement and reminder.

  Their flesh might perish. They might all die and the little colony return to dust. But their souls wouldn’t. Eternity in heaven looked better each day.

  The physical labor kept his mind focused on the work ahead. They needed to get everyone off the ship and living in suitable housing. The cramped quarters for all these months had to breed the disease in some way that had infected all the people. It was the only thing that made sense to him.

  He was just thankful that Mary was again healthy and recovered. All the time she’d spent with the sick made him worry.

  Had it really only been two days since he’d seen her last? Ever since they’d anchored off Cape Cod, laundry had been done on Mondays, since that was their first opportunity. The tradition continued all these weeks, and now he wished that Monday was closer. Or maybe there was another reason he could give for going to see her.

  The thought made him smile. Several of the other men teased him about the upcoming wedding. It was good to have the camaraderie and a topic that brought smiles and laughter rather than tears and sadness.

  But would he make a good husband? A good father? He’d never had any real example other than Paul. And the Leyden men had been good to him, but he realized that he didn’t know the first thing about being a husband or a father.

  Maybe that was the next subject he should broach with Mr. Bradford and the elders. Before he said his vows, he should probably study what a Godly husband looked like and if there was any way he could be one.

  CHAPTER 28

  Monday, 12 March 1620/1

  Spring was just around the corner. The thought brought a smile to Mary Elizabeth’s face. They all needed a smile after the past few months. Even though she didn’t have a house finished yet, she was anxious to be able to start the garden. The lettuce and peas could go in, and that thought thrilled her. Something fresh instead of hard tack, dried meat, and dried vegetables. They enjoyed the occasional fish and fowl if the men had time to hunt or fish, but with so few healthy, the majority of them worked on the construction of the town.

  Because Master Jones had made it clear that the Mayflower would leave. And soon.

  If half of the crew weren’t sick, he would’ve left already.

  Everyone who was able had come to shore this morning. The ladies had to do mounds of laundry, and the men were working on the houses.

  She’d had a brief moment with William when they’d first made it to shore. He had prayed with her, which made her heart soar. Her dreams of a Godly husband to be the head of their household were coming true.

  Perhaps she’d get the opportunity to see him again when they broke for the meal. That was enough encouragement to see her through the grueling hours of scrubbing clothes.

  David ran up to her side. “Mr. Carver said I can help stack wood again. Is that all right with you, Mary Elizabeth?”

  Anything was better to a young boy than helping with laundry. “As long as you aren’t the one wielding the ax, you have my permission.”

  He took off running down the beach. The cold temperature didn’t seem to bother him one bit. Mary Elizabeth laughed and went back to her scrubbing.

  A couple of the other ladies chattered about what they planned to plant in their gardens. A few children played on the beach. But what caught Mary Elizabeth’s eye was the sight of two girls sitting on a rock together. They didn’t seem to be talking. They just sat.

  Setting down the skirt she’d been scrubbing, Mary Elizabeth headed over to the two and realized it was Elizabeth Tilley and Mary Chilton. No wonder they were sitting together in silence. They’d both been orphaned this winter.

  “Good day, Elizabeth, Mary.” She nodded at them.

  “Good day, Miss Chapman.” Miss Tilley threw a small shell into the water.

  The other girl didn’t speak.

  Maybe she should try another tactic. “Would either of you know how to fish?”

  The girls shook their heads.

  “What about hunt?”

  Elizabeth giggled. “Girls don’t hunt; only the boys do that.”

  “Oh, I guess you’re right.” Mary Elizabeth tapped her chin. “What about a game of bowls? Do you know how to play that?”

  The quiet Mary shrugged. But Miss Tilley nodded. And there—that was a spark in the girl’s eye. Progress!

  “Well, I happen to know where a set of bowls are. And if we get the washing done, I think we should all play.”

  “Oh, could we, Miss Chapman? It’s been ages since we’ve done anything fun.” Elizabeth jumped off the rock.

  “I’ll say we have a plan. But I need to get the laundry done first, agreed?”

  Mary followed her friend and nodded. At least that was something.

  The little group went to work on the clothes, and Mary Elizabeth realized the girls were only a few years younger than herself. If she remembered correctly, they were both thirteen. On the cusp of womanhood but still longing for the happiness of childhood. She couldn’t blame them—especially with their futures unknown. Prayerfully, the girls could stay together with one of the families. They were going to need each other’s friendship.

  Like hers with Dorothy.

  The thought of her dear friend made her heart clinch. It didn’t hurt as much as it had, but she had a feeling the ache would never truly go away.

  When they’d finished the wash, Mary Elizabeth went to the common house and pulled the bowls out of their trunk. They’d gradually moved a lot of the cargo to the shelter in hopes that they’d all be living in Plimouth soon.

  She walked back to the beach and began to play with the girls. It took her a while to find her footing—it had been far too long since she’d played. But the hour of laughter was well worth it.

  Making her way back to the common house, she looked forward to standing by a fire. Her toes had gotten quite cold.

  Then she’d have to check the laundry and see if there was any chance it was drying. Several times she’d had to bring frozen pieces of clothing back to the ship to warm them up so they could dry.

  A commotion by one of the new houses drew her attention.

  William stood with his hands on his hips. “That doesn’t belong to you, Peter.”

  Mary Elizabeth wasn’t sure what he was talking about, so she moved in closer.

  Most of the elders and men were now gathered around the two.

  Peter held a book up in the air and shouted. “This book proves that William Lytton is a spy.”

  Everyone started talking at once.

  Mr. Carver held up his hands. “Calm down, Peter. Exactly what are you trying to accuse Mr. Lytton of? Who would he be a spy for?”

  “The company.” Peter held up a little pouch and shook it. “And here’s the proof. He was paid to keep records on all of us.”

  William shook his head.

  Their governor spoke again. “Exactly why would they need a spy?”

  Peter glared at the crowd. “To ensure that we failed.”

  Gasps and murmurs filled the air.

  “That is not true.” William took a step forward.

  Peter opened the book and read. “The explorers stumbled upon mounds on their first trip and, after digging, discovered baskets of corn. Although it didn’t belong to them, the men took the corn for themselves.”

  This time Mr. Carver stepped closer to William. “Why would you write that, William?”

  William stood tall and lifted his chin. “Because it was true, sir. But that’s not the whole part. Of course it sounds negative when read in this manner.”

  Peter turned to another page and read, “The death toll rises. At this rate, there is nothing to show for the settlement except graves and debt. I fear the investors will be disappointed with our efforts.”

  “That’s enough, Peter.” Mr. Carver held out his hand. “Kindly hand me the book.”

  The young man stood there for a moment and looked at the faces around him
. “We can’t let him get away with this.” Handing the book to the governor, he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Surely you all can see that he’s been working against us—so that we’ll owe the precious investors more money.”

  Several others murmured their agreement.

  Mr. Carver went to the front of the group and held both his hands in the air. “I think we all understand why Peter is so upset, but we haven’t given William the chance to explain himself. Now please, quiet down so we can get to the truth of the matter.” He turned back to William. “Did the company hire you to spy on us?”

  “No, sir. But the company did hire me to keep accurate records.”

  Mary Elizabeth took a deep breath. What?

  “Exactly what kind of records?”

  “Everything. The work we did, the land we chose, the house we built, the timber we cut, fish we caught, everything for the settlement. Since the investors didn’t have a representative here, they asked me to be it.”

  Mr. Carver sighed. “When did they ask you to do this job?”

  “The day I was loading my things on the Mayflower, sir.”

  “So you had already planned to journey with us.”

  “Yes, sir.” William held out his hands in front of him. “It was a good job for me, a good opportunity—and it seemed like an honorable thing to do to make sure we were all good stewards of the investors’ money.”

  “I understand that, Mr. Lytton.” Mr. Carver took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “But what I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell any of us.”

  It was at that moment that William noticed her at the edge of the crowd.

  Oh, William. Her heart sank. Why hadn’t he said anything?

  William held her gaze as he spoke to the crowd. “I was one of the Strangers at the beginning. I didn’t know any of you, and you didn’t know me. I wanted to build trust so that you would know I was an honorable man in my dealings.”