THE PILGRIM FATHERS

So they left that goodly and pleasant city which had been their resting place near twelve years.

But they knew they were Pilgrims, and looked not much on these things; but lift up their eyes to the Heavens, their dearest country, and quieted their spirits.

Governor William Bradford

THE FATHER OF THE NEW ENGLAND COLONIES

William Bradford’s birthday, we celebrate on the anniversary of the landing of the Pilgrims on Plymouth Rock. We do not know the exact date of his birth.

He was just an ordinary boy living in a small English village. He was brought up by relatives, for his father and mother had died when he was a child. They had left him a small fortune, so he was not in want.

When about twelve years old, he began to read the Bible. It interested him so much, that when older he attended the meetings of some neighbours who were studying the Bible and worshipping God in their own little Assembly. Separatists, they were called, for they had separated from the Established Church of England.

In those days, it was a crime in England for any one to hold or attend religious meetings of Separatists. The Bible printed in the English tongue, had long been forbidden reading, but in William Bradford’s days, it was beginning to be read quite widely, specially by Separatists.

These poor people’s Assemblies were watched by spies and informers. Separatists were arrested and imprisoned, while some were executed. Others fled into Holland—brave liberty-loving Holland—where there was no persecution for religion’s sake.

William Bradford became a Separatist. When about eighteen years old, he, too, fled into Holland, where he might serve his Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, in full liberty of conscience.

For ten years or more he lived in Holland. He was a member of an English Separatist Church in Leyden, under the gentle rule of its beloved pastor, John Robinson.

The Separatists believed that every man in the church-congregation should have a voice in its management; thus they elected their pastor.

The time came when a part of Pastor Robinson’s congregation decided to emigrate and seek a home in the New World. The leaders of this little band of Pilgrims—the Pilgrim Fathers, we call them—were William Bradford, John Carver, and Edward Winslow. With them went William Brewster, who was to be their pastor in the New World. Miles Standish, also, went with them, and became the Captain of their small army, which defended them against the Indians.

So the Pilgrim Fathers, together with their wives, little ones, and men and maid servants, said farewell to Holland’s hospitable shore. Soon after, they sailed from England in the Mayflower, to found a settlement in the savage New World, under the rule of England.

They took with them the seeds of American Independence. They had left England so that they might have the freedom which was theirs by rights. They were come to America so that they might govern themselves, every man having a voice in the government of the new settlement as well as in the management of his own congregation. This principle of self-government, the Pilgrims embodied in the famous Mayflower Compact, an agreement which they drew up and signed the day they reached New England.

Meanwhile, far to the South of New England another Colony of Englishmen had planted and was fostering other seeds of American Independence.[3]

But let us see what became of William Bradford, since we are celebrating his birthday. We will let Cotton Mather tell it in his own quaint style:—

“The rest of his days were spent in the services and the temptations of that American wilderness. Here was Master Bradford, in the year 1621, unanimously chosen the Governor of the Plantation. The difficulties whereof were such that if he had not been a person of more than ordinary piety, wisdom, and courage, he must have sunk under them.” He served for thirty-seven years, “in every one of which he was chosen their Governor, except the three years wherein Master Winslow and the two years wherein Master Prince, at the choice of the people, took a turn with him.... But the crown of all was his holy, prayerful, watchful, and fruitful, walk with God.... He died May 9th, 1657, in the 69th year of his age, lamented by all the Colonies of New England as a common Blessing and Father to them all.”

THE SAVAGE NEW WORLD

It was November, 1620. The ocean swelled angrily. A cold wind was blowing, as day broke over the gray water. Sea-gulls swooped and wheeled around the good ship Mayflower, which, with tattered sails, was driving through the billows. For over two months she had been on her way from Plymouth, England, carrying the Pilgrims. And, now, while the dull day was breaking, suddenly a cry was heard:—

“Land Ho!”

The Pilgrims came crowding to the deck, fathers, mothers, children, men, and maid-servants. They looked eagerly toward the west. They saw the coast of the New World, as the ship rushed nearer, low with a white line of surf beating against its wooded shore.

It was a very new, strange, savage world awaiting them, full of unknown horrors and Indians. Yet the Pilgrims were not fearful. Had they not committed themselves to God’s will? And was not this to be their home, the land to which He was bringing them? So they fell on their knees, and blessed Him who had guided them safely through storm and stress.

The wide bay where they first anchored—Cape Cod Bay—was wooded to the water’s edge, with pines and oaks, with sassafras and juniper, with birch and holly, ash and walnut. Whales swam spouting around the ship, while flocks of wild fowl flew screaming overhead.

And when at last the Pilgrims went ashore in that uninhabited spot, how briskly the mothers and sisters rubbed and scrubbed, as they washed the Pilgrims’ clothes. For it had been a frightful two months’ voyage, with so many storms and so much sickness aboard, that little washing had been done. And the first thing the Pilgrim Mothers did, was to hold a great wash day.

And while the women washed, the carpenter repaired the ship’s shallop; for William Bradford and some of the others wished to explore the coast, in order to find a safe and pleasant spot for their settlement.

While the shallop was being got ready, the Pilgrims decided to send out a party by land, to see what the country was like.

And many thrilling adventures, the Pilgrim Fathers had before they discovered a site, and built Plymouth Town.

On their first adventure, they saw Indians in the distance. They walked through fields of corn-stubble which belonged to Indians. They found a white man’s kettle and the ruins of a cabin. They dug up a fine, great, new basket filled with corn, red, yellow, and blue. They took the corn with them, intending to search out the owner, and pay him well.

On the second adventure, they found empty Indian wigwams, more corn, and the grave of a man with yellow hair.

On the third adventure, they left their shallop, at night, to camp on shore. In the gray dusk of morning, a band of fierce Nauset Indians attacked them. A flight of brass-headed or claw-tipped arrows came flying across the Pilgrims’ barricade. The Pilgrims fired their guns, and the Nausets, whooping loudly, bounded away into the dusk. The Pilgrims pursued them for a short distance.

Though many arrows had fallen around them, none of the Pilgrims were hurt. They gave thanks to God for their deliverance; and, after naming the spot The Place of the First Encounter, they sailed away in their shallop to explore the coast near by.

Then, at last, they discovered a beautiful site for their town, situated on a fine harbour. They returned to the Mayflower, with the good news. And a few days before Christmas, the Mayflower anchored in the harbour, and the Pilgrim folk landed on Plymouth Rock.

On Christmas day, they began to build Plymouth Town.

WELCOME, ENGLISHMEN!

“Welcome!”

That cry—just one English word—sounded through the street of Plymouth, and startled the Pilgrims. They caught up their muskets and ran from the houses.

A tall naked savage, his lank hair clinging to his shoulders, was stalking along the street, holding a bow and arrows.

“Welcome!” he shouted.

The Pilgrims returned his greeting.

He was Samoset, Chief of Pemaquid, he told them. He had journeyed from very far off. He had learned English among the Englishmen who sometimes came to fish off the coast of his country.

The Pilgrims, glad to talk with a friendly Indian, invited him to eat with them. Then, as the wind was rising, they wrapped a warm coat around his naked body. They gave him biscuit with butter, and cheese, and a piece of cooked duck; all of which he seemed to relish hugely.

And in answer to their questions Samoset told them many things about that country. As for the Nauset Indians, who had attacked them so fiercely at The Place of the First Encounter, he said that these Nausets hated all white men because a certain Englishman, one Captain Hunt, a short time before the Pilgrims landed, had cruelly deceived the Nauset Indians, kidnapping twenty of them, and selling them to other white men.

All this and much more, Samoset told the Pilgrims. He stayed with them that night. The next day they sent him away with a gift of a knife, a ring, and a bracelet. He went off promising that he would come soon again and bring other Indians to trade with them.

But the Pilgrims were troubled, for they had not found the owners of the buried corn.

LOST! LOST! A BOY!

There were children on the Mayflower—Oceanus Hopkins who was born at sea, Peregrine White who gave his first baby-cry soon after the Mayflower reached the New World, Francis Billington who almost blew up the Mayflower, while trying to make fireworks, and John Billington.

John was a mischievous youngster, and so lively that the Pilgrim Fathers had to keep a stern eye upon him. But in spite of their watching, he got lost. For one day, soon after the Pilgrims were settled in Plymouth, he slipped out of the town, and into the woods that stretched farther than eye could see from the top of the highest tree.

That night when John did not come home, the Plymouth folk were worried. Where was the boy? they asked. How had he managed to slip from the town without being seen? Had he strayed into the woods? Had a savage caught him and carried him off?

Governor Bradford sent a party to look for him. They scoured the woods about, but there was no John.

Five days went by,—five anxious days for the Plymouth folk. And John had not returned when a message came from the friendly Indian, King Massasoit, saying that the Nausets had the lad. The Nauset Indians were the same fierce savages who had attacked the Pilgrims at The Place of the First Encounter.

A shallop was launched and victualed; and the next morning ten of the Pilgrims, with Tisquantum, their Indian interpreter, set sail for Nauset.

It was a dangerous trip. At first the day was calm and bright, then came on a storm of wind with thunder and lightning, that lashed the little ship; while a waterspout almost broke over her. “But GOD be praised!” says the Pilgrim Chronicle, which tells about the lost boy, “GOD be praised! it dured not long, and we put in that night for harbour at a place called Cummaquid, where we had some hope to find the boy.”

But they didn’t find him there. “The Nausets have got him,” said the friendly Cummaquid Indians, when they came down the next morning to catch lobsters. And they invited the Pilgrims to come ashore and eat with them. So six of them landed, hoping to learn something more about John.

Iyanough, the handsome young Cummaquid Chief, welcomed them heartily. He made a feast of venison and maize cakes. And after they had eaten, he offered to go with them to help rescue John. So the Pilgrims put out to sea again, taking Iyanough and two of his braves. They made the best speed possible, for they were anxious to find what had happened to the boy.

The tide was out when they reached Nauset, and the water was so shallow that they had to anchor at a distance from land. Iyanough, his braves, and Tisquantum, went ashore to find Aspinet the Nauset Chief. They hoped to persuade him to give up John, if he was still alive.

Meanwhile, crowds of Nauset Indians came running down to the beach. They waded out from shore; and soon they were swarming around the shallop. The Pilgrims stood guard to keep them from boarding her, for they remembered all too well, how these same savages had attacked them with showers of brass-headed arrows.

Finally, they allowed two of the Indians to climb into the shallop. And what was the Pilgrims’ delight when they found that one of the two was part owner of the corn dug up at Cornhill. They welcomed him gladly. They told him that they wished to pay for the corn. They asked him to come to Plymouth for the payment. He promised that he would.

By this time the sun was setting, but Iyanough had not returned with news of John. This made the Pilgrims all the more anxious.

After sunset, they saw a long train of Nauset Indians come winding down to the beach. At their head, walked their haughty Chief Aspinet. He drew near to the edge of the beach. Some of his warriors stood guard with their bows and arrows ready to shoot. The others laid down their weapons and followed Aspinet into the water. They began to wade out toward the shallop. And whom should the Pilgrims see sitting on the shoulders of a big Indian, but John himself, covered with strings of beads! He had been visiting in the Nauset village, where his new friend the big Indian had feasted and entertained him in his wigwam.

And while the Indian was giving John over to the Pilgrims, Aspinet announced that he and his people wished to make peace with the white men. So the Pilgrims made peace with him, and presented him with a strong English knife. They gave another one to the big Indian in return for his kindness to John. Aspinet and his warriors then went back friendly and satisfied, to their village.

So the lost boy was found.

And so the buried corn was paid for at last.

THE RATTLESNAKE CHALLENGE

It was just before Christmas, when a strange Brave came into Plymouth town, carrying a bundle of new arrows wrapped in a rattlesnake-skin.

He asked for Tisquantum. When they told him that Tisquantum was away, he smiled and seemed glad. He laid down the skin, and turned to run out of the town.

But Governor Bradford did not like his looks nor his queer gift, so ordered Captain Standish to seize him. The Captain laid hold of him, and locked him up for the night. At first the poor Indian shook so with fear that he could not speak. Then as they questioned him gently, he grew calmer. And when they promised to set him free if he would tell who had sent him, he confessed to being a messenger from Canonicus, the great Chieftain of the Naragansett Indians, a People powerful and many thousands strong.

Governor Bradford, in the morning, set him free, bidding him go back to Canonicus and tell him that if he would not live at peace with the white men, as their other Indian neighbours did, the white men would show him their wrath.

The messenger listened quietly. He refused all offers of food, but thanked the Pilgrims for their kindness. Then he sped away to his master.

When Tisquantum came back, they asked him what the rattlesnake-skin meant.

To send a rattlesnake-skin meant an enemy, he said. It was the same as sending a challenge.

In answer, Governor Bradford stuffed the skin full of powder, and sent it back by an Indian runner to Canonicus.

The runner delivered it with such terrifying words of defiance, that Canonicus would not even touch it for fear of the powder and shot, nor would he let the rattlesnake-skin stay overnight in his village. The runner refused to take it back to Plymouth. Canonicus then gave it to one of his own Indians, who had it posted from place to place, until at last it was returned to Governor Bradford—unopened!

THE GREAT DROUGHT

How the Pilgrims’ little farms did flourish! Rye, barley, maize, oats, beans, and peas grew and thrived; also parsnips, carrots, turnips, onions, melons, radishes, and beets. In the gardens, were fragrant herbs. Refreshing watercresses grew wild in the meadows; while fruit ripened on the trees, which the Pilgrims had found already growing in the land.

But early during the third Summer, destruction threatened those little farms. There was a great drought. For many weeks, scarcely a drop of rain fell.

The corn, oats, rye, and barley, drooped their yellowing blades. The beans stopped running, and lay parched and shrivelling. The other vegetables were turning yellow. Unless rain should fall soon, the Pilgrims knew that they and their little children must starve when Winter came.

To add to the misery of it all, a ship laden with supplies, which had been sent from England, was missing. Nothing had been heard of her for months. And now, during the great drought, the wreck of a ship was cast on shore.

In sorrow and anxiety, the Pilgrims met together for a day of public fasting and prayer.

We will let Edward Winslow himself, tell what happened:—