Problems in Plymouth

by Marianne Hering

  The Pilgrims prepared for the feast. The men brought out wooden planks. They laid the planks on sawhorses. These would be the tables.

  There was so much food, the planks bent in the middle.

  Nine Pilgrim women were there—four adults and five teenage girls. They cooked the meats and vegetables. Beth helped them. There were plates of wild onions, wild berries, carrots, cabbages, and pumpkins.

  Chief Yellow Feather led his tribe. The natives came out of the woods and walked to the tables. The chief wore special beads. His headdress was colorful and tall.

  Most of the natives brought their own food—deer, pheasant, and turkey. There were more Native Americans than anyone in Plymouth expected.

  Patrick and Beth stayed near Captain Standish and Governor Bradford.

  “We’re vastly outnumbered,” Captain Standish said to the governor.

  Governor Bradford smiled and said, “Be at peace, Captain. If only for one day.”

  Beth looked at Patrick. He was also watching nervously.

  “Captain,” Patrick called out to Standish.

  “Yes, lad?” the captain answered.

  “Is someone guarding the storehouse?” Patrick asked.

  Captain Standish nodded. “I wouldn’t leave it unattended,” he said. “Francis Billington is watching it.” The captain walked off toward the tables.

  “Why are you worried about that?” Beth asked Patrick.

  “Hugh has a musket, but he needs powder. And he’ll need flint and bullets,” Patrick said. “He’ll have to sneak those out of the storeroom. Then he’ll come looking for us.”

  Beth looked around. There wasn’t a sad face in the whole crowd. She was sorry that Hugh might spoil it.

  Soon everyone was settled at the long tables or on the grass. Governor Bradford stood up and quieted the group down.

  Governor Bradford asked everyone to bow their heads in prayer.

  Squanto listened to what the governor said. Then he repeated the words to the natives in their own language.

  Some of the natives prayed with the Pilgrims. Other natives looked confused.

  “Our God in heaven,” the governor prayed, “we thank You for a bountiful harvest. For food and friendships, we thank You. For this new land. For the chance to worship You freely as our Lord and our God. Bless us as we live together in service to You. Amen.”

  Beth helped serve Native Americans and Pilgrims at their tables. She placed food on their wooden plates.

  Everyone shared one bowl for drinking.

  It had four handles. Beth beamed as she moved around from table to table. She served men, women, and children. But she didn’t feel like a servant. She felt as if she was a part of something special.

  Later Beth sat down and ate. But she said, “No, thank you,” when someone passed her the eel.

  Patrick nibbled at his food, but he kept glancing toward the storehouse.

  After the meal, every person had something fun to do. The Pilgrims held a military parade. The Native Americans danced. The children had running and jumping contests. The men moved to an empty field and held target practice. The native warriors shot their bows and arrows.

  Then the Plymouth men stood up to shoot their muskets.

  The guns banged like big firecrackers. Beth winced each time they went off. Blam! Blam! Blam!

  Patrick looked worried again. “If these men loaded their guns,” he said, “then they had to dig up the powder kegs.”

  “So?” Beth asked.

  “Did they bury them again?” Patrick asked.

  “How am I supposed to know?” Beth said.

  More men fired their muskets.

  Patrick pointed. “That’s the Billington family. All of them,” he said.

  “So?” Beth asked again.

  “So who is watching the storehouse?” Patrick asked. He stood up.

  Blam! Blam! Blam! the guns sounded.

  And then: Blam!

  Beth noticed something strange about the last shot. “Patrick,” she said. “Did you hear that?”

  “It was a gunshot,” Patrick said. “But it came from the storehouse.” He dashed away.

  Beth groaned and chased after him.

  Whit’s End

  Patrick and Beth stepped out of the Imagination Station. They were back in the workshop at Whit’s End.

  Mr. Whittaker smiled at them. “Welcome back!”

  The cousins hugged him.

  “Mission accomplished!” Beth said.

  “Hugh is where he belongs,” Patrick said to Mr. Whittaker. “Here’s your ring.”

  Mr. Whittaker took the ring. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll keep it safe.”

  The cousins went into the changing rooms. They put on their normal clothes.

  “Tell me about your adventure,” Mr. Whittaker said when they came back.

  The cousins talked for an hour. They told Mr. Whittaker about everything that had happened.

  When they finished, Mr. Whittaker said, “I hope you understand how hard it was for the Pilgrims. They went through a lot so they could worship freely as Christians.”

  Beth nodded. She said, “I think they learned a lot about getting along with the Native Americans too.”

  “The Pilgrims were honest and trustworthy,” Mr. Whittaker said. “Those values come from the Bible.”

  Mr. Whittaker reached over and pushed a button on the side of the Imagination Station. The machine’s hum faded away. The lights went dim and then turned off.

  “That was quite an adventure,” Mr. Whittaker said. “Thank you for all your help.”

  “That’s it?” Patrick asked. “We can’t have any more?”

  “I thought you’d be tired after everything you’ve done,” Mr. Whittaker said.

  “Tired!” said Beth. “We’re ready to go again.”

  Mr. Whittaker chuckled. “Come back tomorrow,” he said. “And we’ll see what we can come up with.”

  “See you tomorrow!” the cousins said, along with their goodbyes.

  Patrick and Beth left Whit’s End and walked in the summer sunlight. Each wondered what kind of adventure they would have next.

  Hugh Again

  Patrick and Beth ran as fast as they could.

  The pouch’s strap tightened around Patrick’s neck. He pulled it out of his shirt so he could breathe. The pouch thudded against his chest as he ran.

  Beth’s braids bounced as she sprinted.

  The storehouse door stood open.

  “Someone’s in there,” Patrick whispered.

  Then the door opened wider. Hugh stood with a musket pointed at them. “This was easy. Come in,” he said.

  Patrick felt foolish. His mind raced with ways to escape.

  The cousins stepped into the building.

  “Farther in,” Hugh said.

  The cousins moved toward the middle of the building. Barrels were stacked to the ceiling. One had a hole in it. Some kind of liquid trickled out.

  Baskets, bolts of cloth, powder horns, and animal skins were scattered about. The room had the smell of gunpowder.

  “Give me the ring,” Hugh said with a sneer.

  Patrick looked at the pouch.

  “Hand it over,” Hugh said. He raised the musket so it was level with Patrick’s chest.

  Patrick lifted the leather strap over his head. The pouch felt heavy. I wonder what’s in it, Patrick thought. I hope it’s nothing Hugh can use to hurt us.

  “Don’t give it to him,” Beth said.

  Patrick nodded at the musket. “I have to,” he said.

  “Open it up,” Hugh said.

  Patrick fumbled with the lace around the top of the pouch. It took a minute, but he finally got it open. He saw the glint of gold. He tossed the pouch to Hugh.

  Hugh smiled greedily.

  Beth frowned. “I hope you wind up in dinosaur times. And then get chased by a T. rex,” she said.

  “A what?” Hugh asked.

  “Never mind,” said Beth.

 
; Hugh used one hand to hold the musket. He used the other hand to turn the pouch upside down. Out dropped a ring.

  That’s Albert’s ring, Patrick thought. Then he got an idea on why Mr. Whittaker put it in the pouch.

  “Ha!” Hugh said. His eyes were bright. He held the ring in one hand. A smile stretched across his face. He waved the musket.

  “Imagine what a weapon like this will mean in my time,” he said, “I will have more power than the king.”

  “A gun doesn’t give you power,” Beth said. “Real power comes from something you’ll never understand.”

  Hugh didn’t seem to be listening. He moved to another barrel and lifted the lid. He picked up a handful of musket balls. “These will do.”

  He took the pouch and filled it with musket balls. The pouch bulged.

  Beth looked at Patrick.

  He was watching Hugh carefully.

  Hugh took a few steps away from the cousins. He gathered the powder horn, the pouch, and the musket close to him. Then he held up the ring.

  “Now for the magic chariot,” Hugh said.

  “We have to stop him,” Beth whispered.

  “Wait,” said Patrick.

  “Wait for what?” Beth asked.

  “You chatter like a couple of squirrels,” Hugh said. He held up the ring and slipped it on his finger.

  The Cave

  Hugh pushed the ring all the way onto his ring finger.

  The Imagination Station appeared. Hugh jumped inside.

  “No!” Beth shouted. She leaped at the machine. But it was too late.

  There was a flash of light. The Imagination Station disappeared.

  Beth looked at Patrick. Disappointment filled her eyes.

  But Patrick was smiling. He reached into his pocket.

  He held up Mr. Whittaker’s ring. “Let’s go to England in 1450,” he said. “That’s where

  Mr. Whittaker sent Hugh.”

  “But how?” Beth asked.

  “Hugh put on Albert’s ring,”

  Patrick said. “And it took Hugh back to Albert’s time.”

  Beth laughed and took hold of Patrick’s arm.

  In one quick move, Patrick slipped the ring on his finger.

  There was a flash of light.

  Suddenly, everything went black.

  Beth heard the familiar whoosh of the door and the whir of the machine.

  Then there was silence.

  Beth didn’t know why it was still dark. She was sure they weren’t in the Imagination Station anymore.

  She felt a jolt. The two of them tumbled to the ground. It was as if the Imagination Station had tossed them out.

  She heard Hugh groan.

  “Where am I?” Hugh asked.

  Sir Andrew the knight and James the squire came into view. They stood looking at Hugh. They looked amazed.

  Beth knew they were back in the cave. It was the place where Hugh had grabbed the ring and escaped into time.

  Hugh jumped to his feet. “No!” he said.

  Beth and Patrick stood.

  Hugh searched around him. “Where is my musket?” he asked.

  Sir Andrew lifted a sword.

  Hugh looked as if he might run for it.

  “Stay where you are, coward!” Sir Andrew shouted. He came closer with the blade.

  Hugh lifted up his hands in surrender. He sneered.

  “To the castle,” Sir Andrew said.

  Hugh glared at Beth and Patrick with a nasty scowl. He moved slowly toward the mouth of the cave.

  “Well done, Patrick and Beth,” Sir Andrew said before they left the cave.

  Patrick turned to James. “Will Hugh be put in Lord Darkthorn’s tower?” he asked.

  “Yes,” James said. “Lord Darkthorn himself will deal with the villain.”

  “Were you waiting here all this time?” Patrick asked James.

  James looked puzzled. “You were gone only a few minutes. We had gone back to the secret room. Then we heard Hugh groan.”

  Patrick and Beth looked at each other. Only a few minutes, Beth thought.

  Patrick looked down at the ring on his finger. It seemed to glow.

  There was a hum behind them. The Imagination Station came into view.

  “Time to go,” Patrick said.

  “It was nice meeting you,” Beth said to James.

  James bowed. “It was an honor.”

  The cousins climbed inside the Imagination Station.

  Beth pushed the red button.