“I wish you could come with us,” she whispered to Gretchen.
“I do, too,” Gretchen confided. “But we have lots of time to spend together before you leave, and I’m planning a surprise for you before you go.”
“Surprise? What surprise?” Sarah asked.
“You’ll find out when it’s time,” Gretchen teased and then went to the pump to wash her hands before she left for home.
Just after Gretchen had left, John rushed home with a book, its cover worn from being passed hand to hand.
“Look at this book!” he shouted.
“You do not need to shout for us to hear you,” his mother gently reproved. “Now what is your latest treasure, and where did you get it?”
“It’s a copy of Captain John Smith’s report on the New World, A Description of New England,” John answered eagerly, but in a softer tone. “I met John Carver in the street, and he asked me to bring it home. Everyone who’s going to the New World is getting a chance to read it, so we’ll know what to expect.”
That evening after dinner, the Smythe family eagerly studied Captain Smith’s glowing descriptions of the New World. Captain Smith was not only a former governor of the colony of Jamestown, Virginia, but he was also an explorer. He had sailed the New England coast and mapped its harbors.
“America is wonderful,” the captain promised. “A land where those willing to work can prosper. I urge people to leave their homes across the water and settle in this untouched, unspoiled country.”
As they read each page, Father and John grew more enthusiastic about their trip. “You’ve heard what the explorers and fishermen say,” Father added at one point. “They describe great forests filled with nut and fruit trees, deer, and wild boar. The soil is fertile, and they say there are so many fish along the coast, a man can drop a net and come up with a great haul! Some even say a fortune could be made from the fur trade.”
Mother said little, but the next day, she and Sarah spent even more time sorting and packing. Sarah at last accepted that they were leaving and began saying good-bye to the land of her birth, spending every spare moment with Gretchen.
Days later, word came of a great tragedy. Father came home with the sad news. “One hundred and thirty of our countrymen have perished making the crossing,” he told his family. “The Atlantic Ocean is dangerous, but it is not the sea that took them. They died from hunger, sickness, and lack of water.”
He dropped his head into his hands. “Sometimes I wonder if our brothers and sisters who choose to remain in Holland are right.”
John sprang to his feet. His eyes flashed. “No, Father!” His young voice rang in the quiet room. Mother shot him a warning look, and he quickly returned to his chair.
“Father, I apologize for speaking to you so abruptly,” John quickly said.
“Your apology is accepted,” Father said, lifting his head and looking at his son. “But I think you have something to say. Tell me what is on your heart.”
“I was just thinking,” John said, “did not God open a way by causing the wealthy merchants to give us money for the trip? Did not our own John Carver and Robert Cushman go to King James himself and get a grant of land in the New World?”
“The king did not issue approval,” Father reminded him. “He only said he would not stand in our way or trouble us if we conducted ourselves peacefully.”
Speaking earnestly, John leaned forward. “It is not as though we were going to America to grow rich, although our leaders say we are bound to be better off there than we are here. We are going because we need a place where we can worship God and read the Bible for ourselves. What if Moses had let tales of the wilderness fill his heart with fear? What if he had not followed God’s leading but had told his people to stay in Egypt and obey the pharaoh?”
John saw his father’s shoulders straighten and some of the old fire come back to his troubled face.
“You are right, son,” Father said. “Elder Bradford says when we sail from Holland, we will become pilgrims, people who go on a long, long journey. We are pilgrims for the Lord, not for what we think we might gain.” He took a deep breath. “Even Jesus became a pilgrim when He left His home and traveled to those who needed to hear His message.”
A new thought struck John. “Jesus died for everyone. The Indians in America have a right to hear about Him, don’t they? How can they hear if Christians don’t go tell them?”
“Gretchen says the Indians are savages.” Sarah’s eyes rounded with fear. “She told me they steal children. She says we will have to go naked and be hungry and maybe get scalped.”
“How does she know?” John demanded. “She hasn’t been to America, has she? Do you think Gretchen is wiser than our leaders?”
“Children, children.” Mother held up a hand. “Remember our family rule. Each may speak freely, but we do not argue. Besides, both of you are right! We cannot help but fear the unknown, yet the same God who saw us safely to Holland can and will go with us to America.”
“Why did He not save the people who died crossing the ocean?” Sarah asked.
“Come here, child.” Father held out both arms, and Sarah ran to him. He held her close and said, “We cannot always know why God does or does not do things the way we think He should. We can only trust Him. Sarah, you know that even if something should happen, we have Jesus’ promise that we will go where He is and live with Him. Can we ask for more?”
She shook her head and wiped away tears with the back of her hand.
“There. Now run along and help your mother with the packing. John is right. We cannot turn back.” His brown eyes so like his son’s twinkled. “Abigail, I fancy this son of ours may one day become a preacher! He has certainly given us something to consider this day.”
John couldn’t help grinning, even though he knew his face, neck, and ears must be bright red. “I only spoke what I believe to be true.”
Father slowly said, “That is what God expects us to do.” He gave John a warning look. “We also need to remember one thing: Sometimes our beliefs may be wrong. It is important to study the Bible and pray. That way we can separate man’s ways from God’s.”
“Yes, sir.” John liked it when Father spoke to him man to man. He carefully tucked the bit of advice away for a future time when he would need it.
Preparations for the voyage went steadily forward, although the number of people who agreed to sail continued to drop. It took time for the Smythes and their friends to gather what they needed to take with them. When John’s father got home from work, he and John carefully collected the outdoor equipment they’d need for building their new home, hunting, and growing food.
“If I were around next winter,” John told his friend Hans one afternoon, “I’d be sure to skate faster than you on the frozen canals. Look at how much bigger my muscles have gotten from carrying and packing all these things.”
“That’s impressive,” Hans agreed. “What are you taking?”
“Well, so far we’ve crated up axes and saws as well as lanterns and shovels. Then there are the nails, spades, and chisels, as well as the hammers.”
“It’s hard to imagine living in a place where you can’t simply buy food and cloth and other things you need,” Hans said.
“It’s even harder actually packing all those things that we’ll need,” John said, ruefully rubbing a sore arm.
That evening when John and Father began packing again, Hans came over. “My parents said I could help you pack if you could use the help,” he offered.
“Gratefully accepted,” Father said, shaking Hans’s hand. “Tonight we’re tackling more of our tools—vises, pitchforks, and planes—and if we have time, we’ll start packing some cart wheels.”
“What else will you be taking?” Hans asked.
“Well, we’ll need the cart, plough, and wheelbarrow for farming and transporting things. Our larger group is taking some canoes for exploring the rivers and streams. And the women and girls are busy getting all the po
ts, dishes, medicines,
and clothing—to say nothing of looms and food—together. Sarah and her mother have been working for weeks to make sure we have enough food and clothing to survive. They’ve even packed a spit for cooking over a fire and a mortar for grinding grain.”
“Won’t the ship be providing food for the journey?” Hans asked.
“Yes, but because we’re leaving in the summer, we’ll need enough food for a year once we get to Virginia. We won’t be able to plant seed until the spring or harvest crops until next fall.”
“Let’s hope you have a good harvest,” Hans said.
“God will provide,” Father answered, and they went to work.
After a couple hours of hard work, Father and the boys decided it was time to go in the house and have something to eat and drink. They found Sarah and Mother going over a stack of labeled provisions.
“I think we’re ready for some rest, too,” Mother greeted them.
“How is the work progressing?” Father asked.
“Well, we have most of the dried goods taken care of. There are thirty-two bushels of meal and eight bushels each of dried peas and oatmeal for the four of us.”
Hans’s eyes widened.
“Fresh fruit won’t last long,” Mother continued to explain, “so we’re packing dried prunes, raisins, and currants. We should be able to get sugar and molasses in the New World from the West Indies, but we’re packing as many spices as we can afford.”
“I never thought of how much food one family could eat in a year,” Hans said, unable to restrain himself.
“And that doesn’t include the oil and vinegar we’ll take to season and preserve food,” Sarah added.
“Are you taking any lemon juice?” Hans asked. “I’ve heard that’s the only thing they know of that can keep you from getting scurvy.”
“You’re right,” Mother said.
“You mean we’ll have to drink that sour stuff?” John protested, his face twisting up at the thought.
“Better to drink a little sour lemon juice than to have bleeding gums and become very sick,” Father replied.
“I suppose,” John said, “but I can’t say I’m excited about the thought.”
“That’s probably the only thing about this trip you aren’t excited about,” teased Hans. “Thank you for the food, Mistress Smythe. It’s getting late, so I’d better run home now.”
“Thank you for your help,” Father said.
After the family had said good-bye to Hans and were preparing for evening prayers, John thought about the upcoming voyage.
“We will have a good time on board ship,” he said to Sarah. “Even if our friends won’t be going, there will be older children on board. Love and Wrasling Brewster are going, although their parents are leaving the rest of their children behind. Bartholomew, Remember, and Mary Collins are also going. So is Resolved White and ever so many more—”
He broke off. “Sarah, more than half of the forty-one people who will sail from Leiden are children! Isn’t that exciting?”
“Yes, it is,” Sarah cautiously agreed. “You didn’t say anything about Elder Bradford’s son John. Isn’t he going?”
“I don’t know,” John admitted, although he hated to confess that there was anything about the voyage that he didn’t know. Sometimes Sarah teased him and called him the town crier, after the officers who went through English villages crying out the news to the people.
“Only in your case,” she had said, “you carry the news to our family.”
Each day brought the Smythes and their friends closer to departure. Each day saw those who refused to leave Holland sharpen their criticism of those who would sail.
One day, John was returning from the wharf when he came upon a group of people surrounding William Bradford. Curious about what was happening, John quietly stood on the edge of the group and listened.
“Why?” tearful members pleaded. “Do you think God wants loved ones separated for years, perhaps forever? Give up this mad scheme. You are weak in the faith to feel you must run away. War with the Spaniards may never come. Even if it does, God can care for His people. If you trust Him as He commands, why do you cross an ocean that may swallow you alive?”
“Oh ye of little faith,” William Bradford thundered. “Will you cling to homes where your children daily grow more like the Dutch? Even now they rebel at having to attend meeting. Look at those around you. Women wearing breeches. Families laughing and dancing on the Sabbath.”
He sternly looked around the circle of faces. “You quote Scripture to fit your purposes and forget the commandment given by the apostle Paul: ‘Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you.’ “
Bradford proudly flung his head up. “I turned my back on my family. I left England, the country I love. God gave me strength to do so, and He has kept the promise given in the next verse: ‘And [I] will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.’ Let the babble of those who follow the dictates of their conscience and remain in Holland cease. We also follow our conscience, and our Master.”
The ringing words sank deep in John Smythe’s heart. He shouted “Amen!” along with other supporters who stood nearby. John knew if he lived to be a white-haired, bent old man, he would never forget this moment when only the brave chose to sail.
CHAPTER 5
The Speedwell Doesn’t!
I am so glad they scrubbed down both ships,” Sarah Smythe confessed to her brother, John. She made a horrible face. “I can’t bear to think of the bugs and rats on ships!”
John heaved a bushel of oatmeal to one side of the great store of provisions, proud of being strong and able to do hard work. The New World needed men, not weak boys. “The Speedwell is being completely overhauled.”
He stopped and panted, wiping away the sweat from his face. The July day was warm and sunny. “She’s being repaired, too, and given taller masts and larger sails. Otherwise she could never keep up with the Mayflower. She should be ready to sail by the last day of this month.” He felt a pang of jealousy. “I wish we were going on the Mayflower, like the London Strangers. She’s three times bigger than the Speedwell and weighs one hundred eighty tons!”
He wrinkled his nose. “She smells better, too. The Mayflower is called a ‘sweet ship,’ because she doesn’t have bad smells like ships that carry fish.”
“Well, we can’t go on the Mayflower,” Sarah told him. “We could barely afford to buy the Speedwell, even with the money the English merchants lent us. It’s big enough to hold what few of us are going and most of the provisions. Don’t forget, the ship and crew are going to stay a year with us in America.”
“You’re right.” John grinned at her. “The Mayflower will stay just long enough for us to load it with cargo then sail back to England. The London emigrants are only renting it.”
“Why do we call them Strangers?”
John couldn’t help tormenting his sister. “You’re getting as curious as I am, always asking why.”
She smirked and repeated what he always told her. “How can I learn anything if I don’t ask questions?”
John joined in her laughter, glad to see the gloom of the last weeks lifting from her freckled face, at least for a time. “Remember what Father said? The London emigrants aren’t going to the New World for religious reasons, but to see if they can find a better life. It’s a good thing they are traveling with us, though. If there’s trouble, they’ll be there to help us. We’ll do the same for them. We’ll stay in sight of each other all the time, just in case.”
“What kind of trouble?” Sarah looked suspicious.
John thought as quickly as he could. “Uh, you know. Like if there’s a bad storm.”
Or pirate ships that rove the sea, attack cargo ships, and seize their goods, a little voice inside whispered. John wasn’t about to tell Sarah that! She was still frightened enough of the w
ild Atlantic Ocean they must cross, with its white-foam waves and mighty swells. The longer she went without hearing about pirates, the better. Anyway, they might not see a pirate the whole time they were sailing.
Five days. Four. Three. Two. The day before departure from Leiden arrived at last. Pastor John Robinson ordered a time of fasting and prayer. A solemn group gathered for the last time.
John tore his attention from the future long enough to realize how final this day was in the lives of everyone present. Unexpected pain poked red-hot needles into him. Why couldn’t they just go without saying any good-byes?
He looked around the room. One day he would again see some of those remaining in Holland, for they had promised to come on another crossing. Others, especially the old and sick members of his congregation, he would not meet again until they all reached heaven where there were no sad farewells.
A wave of love threatened to undo his courage and eagerness to sail. So did some of the prayers and Pastor Robinson’s farewell sermon.
John scrubbed at his stinging eyes and felt relieved when the meeting ended. In a short while, he and his family would take the first steps of the long journey that lay ahead.
“God, go with us,” John whispered. He turned to Sarah, at last knowing how she felt. Tears streamed from her green eyes. Her chin wobbled, but she held her head high. John had never been prouder of his younger sister. Already Leiden seemed part of the past.
That afternoon, John and Hans took one last walk together along the canal. They were unusually quiet. Jokes seemed out of place, and they were uncomfortable admitting what they felt.
Finally, as they turned up their street, Hans stopped and looked at John. “I’ll miss you, John,” he said, his eyes suspiciously moist. “I’ve never had a friend like you, and I don’t know that I ever will again. I don’t really understand why your family must leave, but I respect you for doing what you believe is right.”
“I’ll miss you, too, Hans,” John said. “And I’ll never forget you as long as I live. But don’t forget when you win all those canal races that the only reason you’re winning is because I’m not here to challenge you.”
American Dream Page 3
