Shining the light on history
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To Vince Flynn,
this book’s Guardian Angel
This cutaway view shows passengers and crew as they would have been packed into the Mayflower for the 1620 crossing.
KEY TO DRAWING:
1. Poop deck
2. Half deck
3. Upper deck
4. Forecastle
5. Main deck where most of the Pilgrims were housed
6. Crew’s quarters
7. Large hold
8. Special cabins
9. Helmsman with the whipstaff controlling the tiller
10. Tiller room
11. Captain’s cabin
12. Beak
13. Bowsprit
14. Foremast
15. Mainmast
16. Mizzen mast
A Note from the Author
We live in the greatest country on earth, the United States of America. But what makes it so great? Why do some call the United States a miracle? How did we become such a tremendous country in such a short period of time? After all, the United States is less than 250 years old!
I want to try to help you understand what “American Exceptionalism” and greatness is all about. It does not mean that we Americans are better than anyone else. It does not mean that there is something uniquely different about us as human beings compared to other people in the world. It does not mean that we as a country have never faced problems of our own.
American Exceptionalism and greatness means that America is special because it is different from all other countries in history. It is a land built on true freedom and individual liberty and it defends both around the world. The role of the United States is to encourage individuals to be the best that they can be, to try to improve their lives, reach their goals, and make their dreams come true. In most parts of the world, dreams never become more than dreams. In the United States, they come true every day. There are so many stories of Americans who started with very little, yet dreamed big, worked very hard, and became extremely successful.
The sad reality is that since the beginning of time, most citizens of the world have not been free. For hundreds and thousands of years, many people in other civilizations and countries were servants to their kings, leaders, and government. It didn’t matter how hard these people worked to improve their lives, because their lives were not their own. They often feared for their lives and could not get out from under a ruling class no matter how hard they tried. Many of these people lived and continue to live in extreme poverty, with no clean water, limited food, and none of the luxuries that we often take for granted. Many citizens in the world were punished, sometimes severely, for having their own ideas, beliefs, and hopes for a better future.
The United States of America is unique because it is the exception to all this. Our country is the first country ever to be founded on the principle that all human beings are created as free people. The Founders of this phenomenal country believed all people were born to be free as individuals. And so, they established a government and leadership that recognized and established this for the first time ever in the world! America is a place where the individual person serves himself and his family, not the king, or ruling class, or government. America is a place where you can think, believe, and express yourself as you want. You can dream as big as you can and nothing is holding you back.
This book on the Pilgrims is part of the great tale of how the United States of America came to be. The Pilgrims came to our shores more than a century and a half before our country was established in 1776, but their reasons for coming to the “New World” helped to sow the seeds of our nation. The story of the Pilgrims and their arrival in the “New World” has been taught for hundreds of years and in that time the story has been tweaked and changed by people to the point that it is often misunderstood. I want you to know the real story. What really happened, who the Pilgrims really were, and what they did when they arrived.
Let me introduce you to my good buddy Rush Revere! Together, we are going to rush, rush, rush into history and the story of the Pilgrims!
Prologue
The sea was wide, cold, and blustery. The large wooden ship rocked hard against the rolling waves. I’d been on the Mayflower for only thirty minutes but already my head was leaning over the side just in case I had to “feed the fish.” Water splashed up from the side of the hull and then rained down upon the deck.
“You there!” a voice shouted from nearby.
I turned around to see a sailor staring and pointing in my direction. He was a couple of inches taller than me. His shoulders were broad and his beard was black and scraggly with a thin scar above his cheek.
“That’s right. I’m talking to you. Get your landlubber legs over here and below deck!”
Couldn’t this sailor see that I was in no position to move, let alone walk across the ship when the deck felt like a washing machine with the spin cycle on extra high?
No, of course not. For starters, washing machines didn’t exist in the year 1620. I turned back toward the sea as another wave of nausea swelled inside me.
Maybe my decision to teleport aboard the Mayflower and journey with the Pilgrims hadn’t been such a good idea after all. In fact, maybe now would be a good time to time-jump back to modern-day America and get some seasickness pills.
Yes, that’s it. I could get the pills, stabilize my motion sickness, and then return before the ship reached the New World.
Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm and spun me around. I nearly jumped into the water when the large sailor shouted directly into my face!
“The whole lot of you makes me sick!” he said. “We should throw all you Saints overboard. What’s your name!?”
Saints? This was not my first encounter with someone from the past. Although I was feeling extremely queasy, I tipped my hat and introduced myself while trying not to fall over. “I’m not a Saint or a Separatist. I’m Rush Revere,” I said. “I’m a history teacher from the twenty-first century. I’ve come to—”
“The twenty-first century! Blimey! You’re mad! The whole lot of you! You think I care if you make it to New England?” The sailor laughed as he pushed his face into mine and said, “I don’t. In fact, I’d rather feed you to the sharks and be done with you.”
His breath smelled foul, like rotten fish. I gagged and suddenly I vomited as the boat lurched to the side and sent me facefirst into the unsuspecting sailor. We tumbled to the deck and I rolled up against the railing. I sat up, realizing that I felt a great deal better. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same thing about Stinky Fish Breath. He was covered from head to toe in my regurgitated lunch.
“Argh! You puked all over me! You piece of scum! I’ll throw you overboard!” He scrambled to his feet and charged at me like a bull targeting a matador.
My horse, Liberty, was aboard the Mayflower, somewhere. “Liberty!” I yelled, stumbling backward. “I could use a little help over here!”
* * *
Now look, I know what you’re thinking. What’s a horse doing on the deck of the Mayflower in the middle of a storm-tossed sea? Good question. The truth is, my L
iberty is no ordinary horse.
The ship rocked back and forth as water surged again over its bow and crashed down on the deck as if a large waterfall had been turned on and off. The sailor was only a few feet away and closing fast. I scanned the length of the Mayflower, searching high and low. Another rush of water nearly swept me off my feet. I looked down to see a large fish flopping around. The boat rocked again and the fish slid right between the legs of the sailor.
Not a bad idea, I thought. Right before the sailor grabbed me, I dove headfirst through his legs. For a split second, I thought I was through and beyond his grasp. The sailor’s beefy hand grabbed my leg, then my coat, then hoisted me up by my collar.
“I hope you can swim!” yelled Fish Breath.
From over his shoulder I finally spotted what I had been searching for.
“And I hope you can fly!” Liberty replied to him.
Oh, yes, Liberty can talk. I told you he wasn’t an ordinary horse. Before the man could even turn around to see who had spoken, Liberty kicked his hind legs and sent the sailor sailing high into the air and then he fell into a web of nets.
“Perfect shot!” Liberty said.
“You appeared in the nick of time,” I said, starting to feel sick again.
“Leaping to the Mayflower in the middle of a storm wasn’t my idea!” Liberty said, speaking very fast. “Yes, I can leap to different times in American history, but I’m not a weatherman. And horses don’t like boats. There’s an awful lot of water surrounding us and this constant rocking back and forth, back and forth—it’s making me hungry.” Liberty turned his neck from side to side as if searching for the nearest feedbag. “Do you know where we can get some food around here?”
I slipped onto Liberty’s saddle and said, “Please, let’s not talk about food. Right now I need you to open the time portal.”
“Back to the future?” Liberty grinned.
“Yes! Back to modern-day America, please. Just try not to leap us into a tornado!”
Liberty started galloping and yelled, “Rush, rush, rushing from history!”
A swirling circle of gold and purple appeared on the deck of the Mayflower. As it grew bigger, Liberty bolted for the center and jumped through.
We were back in modern-day America.
Chapter 1
The school bell rang and a few more students rushed into the classroom followed by Principal Sherman. The principal of Manchester Middle School was not a small man. If the door frame were any smaller, the principal would have to duck his head and twist his way into the classroom. I stood outside in the hallway as the door closed but watched and heard what was happening through the door’s small window.
“Attention, everyone, please take your seats,” said the principal with authority. He stood at the front of the classroom, hands at his sides, while his eyes scanned the desks and chairs. “I have an important announcement.”
The room went silent. It was apparent that Principal Sherman did not tolerate disrespect. “I have some unfortunate news,” he said. “Your teacher, Ms. Borrington, needed some extra time away from the academy to help care for a sick family member. In the meantime, I feel very fortunate to have found such a qualified replacement. You know that at Manchester Middle School we have the smartest and most educated teachers. It is my pleasure to introduce you to your substitute, Mr. Revere.”
As if on cue, I opened the door to the classroom and walked in. As Principal Sherman prattled on about the importance of giving me their whole attention, I walked over to the chalkboard and grabbed a piece of chalk. In the upper left corner I wrote my name.
R-U-S-H R-E-V-E-R-E.
Principal Sherman then turned to me and said, “Mr. Revere, the students of Manchester’s honors history class are now in your charge. I kno-o-o-o-ow,” he said, turning to the class and then back to me, “they will give you their utmost respect.” While he walked past me on his way to the door he lowered his head and whispered, “If the boy in the back row with the red baseball cap gives you any trouble, please send him to my office.” Without another word, he opened the door and disappeared.
As I turned to the students, I noticed a hand in the air from a girl with blond hair and two perfectly placed pink bows. Before I had a chance to even call on her she asked, “Your first name is ‘Rush’? That’s weird. And why are you dressed like . . . that?!” she said.
I could tell that this student was all business. If there were a pecking order in this class, she would probably be at the top of the food chain. I looked at my seating chart and replied, “Thank you, Elizabeth. Do you go by Liz?”
She rolled her eyes and nearly grunted, “No, unlike some people, I have a real name. It’s Elizabeth.”
“It’s a lovely name, if you like four syllables” I said, winking. “If you must know, my real name is Rusty. But when I was your age, my favorite class was history. In fact, I found myself rushing to history class every day I had it. I would rush from my home, rush down the street, rush through the school until I was sitting at my desk. Eventually, my teacher started calling me ‘Rush’ and it stuck.”
Two girls leaned over and whispered to each other. One pointed at my pants and giggled. Ah, yes, my clothing! Certainly, my colonial shirt with a waistcoat and an outer coat over it, as well as knickers, stockings, and a three-cornered hat, was enough to make me look like I was ready to go trick-or-treating.
“You’re probably wondering about my clothing,” I said. “Can anyone guess who I’m dressed as?”
A couple of students raised their hands and I pointed to each one.
“George Washington?” said the first.
“Good guess, but no. However, I am dressed as someone who fought in the same revolutionary war as George Washington and they assuredly knew each other.”
“Are you Thomas Jefferson?” asked another student.
“No, however, another good guess. Mr. Jefferson lived during the same time, but I don’t think he could ride on a horse fast enough as if he was flying from city to city.”
Then the boy with the red baseball cap raised his hand. He was smirking at me, the kind of look you give with the intent of hitting the bull’s-eye on a dunking machine. Reluctantly, I pointed to him.
“Then you must be Peter Pan,” he said.
The students burst out laughing, and now I understood the warning from Principal Sherman.
I quickly glanced at the seating chart and then replied, “Mr. Thomas White, is it?”
“I go by Tommy,” he said. “And I think Tinker Bell just flew out the window so you might want to go catch her.”
Again, the class laughed. I smiled politely and waited until the room was quiet again. Tommy appeared to be gathering up his history book and backpack.
“Are you planning to go somewhere, Tommy?” I asked.
“Aren’t you sending me to the principal’s office?” he asked matter-of-factly.
This time I laughed. I could see that the entire class looked confused. Apparently, Mrs. Borrington did not tolerate the silly antics from a class clown. “Absolutely not! If I did, you would miss the most exciting history lesson of your life!”
“Um, for the record, history is not exciting,” Tommy said. “Seriously, I have to stay?”
“Well, I hope you choose to stay,” I said. “I love your imagination, Tommy. That’s exactly the kind of mind I want all of you to have as we discover history together, discover the stories of the exceptional people who made us who we are today. I dress like this to help your imaginations. For as long as I can remember, my boyhood idol has been the famous American patriot Paul Revere. He was a silversmith. He took part in the Boston Tea Party. He developed a system of lanterns to warn the minutemen of a British invasion. And, of course, the event that he’s most famous for is his midnight ride in April of 1775.”
Tommy eased back into his chair. I could tell he wasn’t convinced that history was exciting, yet. But I could see a hint of curiosity on his face.
“Imagine th
at it’s midnight,” I said. “It’s very dark outside. You hear the hoot of an owl and, perhaps, see bats fly through the air under a full moon. You’re on a secret mission to ride as fast as you can to warn the colonists that the British are coming! Raise your hand if you’re up for the challenge!”
Several of the students raised their hands, mostly boys, including Tommy. However, I saw one girl in the back of the class who raised her hand, too, but then quickly dropped it. Hmm, I had noticed this girl earlier. She didn’t laugh when the rest of the class laughed. She looked very comfortable sitting in the very last row in the corner. Her dark hair had a blue feather clipped in it. She wore jeans with a hole in one knee, but I could tell it wasn’t a fashion statement. I looked at the seating chart and noticed the girl’s name, Freedom. What an unusual name. Personally, I couldn’t help but be a fan!
“Ah, I see we have several brave souls who are ready to ride like Paul Revere. However, in order for you to ride, you’re going to need a horse.” I paused. Nothing happened. This time, a little louder, I repeated every word slowly: “I said, we’re going to need a horse!” I glanced at the door. I paused, again. Still nothing happened.
The students looked at me very confused.
I sighed. “We’re supposed to have a special guest join us, but it appears he’s running late. Excuse me while I go and see if he’s lost.” I walked toward the door, opened it, and glanced down the hallway. Nothing. I walked down the hall toward the front doors of the school and passed by the door to the teacher’s bathroom. I paused, considering my options. I heard the toilet flush and then I heard what sounded like the clomping of horse hooves. I rolled my eyes and pushed the door open. Sure enough, there stood my horse, Liberty, admiring himself in the mirror.
“Liberty!” I shouted.
Startled, Liberty bumped into one of the bathroom stalls and knocked the door halfway off its hinges.
Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrims: Time-Travel Adventures with Exceptional Americans Page 1
