So welcome had been the sight of the ship, so blessed the prospect of being able to set out once more, that the Weisers and their friends had no fault to find with the meager provision which had been made for them. They trooped joyfully aboard, disposing themselves and their goods as well as they could. It was true that what seemed to be a large space shrank amazingly as the passengers found places for the bundles and boxes which remained in their possession in spite of all their misfortunes, but of lack of space they made light. Thus crowded together they would not suffer so dreadfully from the cold as they had in the open tents of Blackheath. Besides, the journey would soon be over. Those who had misgivings as the shores of England dropped out of sight, smiled to see Conrad and Peter gazing longingly from the boat's prow toward the west.

In comparison with the journey down the Rhine the journey across the Atlantic is dull to most travelers. There are no interesting waitings at landings, there are no towering castles, there are no flowery meadows. But to the children on the ship Lyon there was no moment without its entertainment. There was, to begin with, the never-ending motion of the sea; there was, for the first few days, the almost hourly sight of a distant sail. Presently they began to watch for the spouting of whales and for the dipping and soaring of creatures which were half bird, half fish.

The voyage began in a long and unusual calm, so that the older folk could sit comfortably on the deck in the sunshine and the children could scamper about at their games. The captain and the crew were kind and patient, as they needed to be to answer the numberless questions about the ship and her rudder and her white sails and the wide sea upon which she traveled. The mate had crossed the Atlantic Ocean four times and had been many times to Marseilles: to the shivering girls and the delighted boys he told a hundred tales of storms, of waves covering the ship, of rigging locked in ice, of flights from pirates and of battles with the French.

"Shall we meet storms like that?" they asked, terrified, yet eager.

"I've crossed when the sea was like a raging lion," answered the mate, to please the boys; "and when she was like a smooth pond," he added, to please the girls.

Presently the mate rigged up a fishing-line with which the boys took turns. Peter Zenger added an edible dolphin to the ship's food—that was the first catch. Then, Conrad, feeling a powerful tug at his line, was convinced that he had caught a whale, and screamed for help.

"It will pull me over," he called. "Come quickly!"

The sailor who came to his aid laughed.

"You could have let go!"

When they hauled in the catch it proved to be a shark, at whose enormous mouth and hideous teeth the girls screamed. Thereafter they scarcely looked over the side of the ship.

Among themselves the older folk reviewed again and again their persecutions, their griefs, and their hopes. To the younger men and women John Conrad talked long and earnestly.

"If all that we hear is true, children, this new land will be the finest land in the world. There are fertile fields; there are great forests and rivers, such as we know nothing of; there are rich ores. Above all, there are young, eager hearts. I believe that there will also be new governments, which will, please God, be different from the old. In this new country every man should have a fair chance. I am growing old, I shall not have much to do with the affairs of the new country, but my children may. Let them remember their own history and be always on the side of the oppressed. You may be divided from one another. Our new friends may forsake us. You will have griefs and sorrows like the rest of mankind. You must learn to find companionship in yourselves and help from above. You must learn to be independent of others, even of those who love you and whom you love."

Daily Conrad and Peter practiced on their flute and drum. There were, as they had hoped, other instruments on the ship and a band was organized which played many lively tunes. Sometimes the boys were allowed to help with the furling of a sail or the giving out of the supply of food and water. They were shown by the friendly mate the ship's store of arms and ammunition, a store which seemed to their inexperienced eyes sufficient to meet a whole fleet of pirates.

"If they would but come!" sighed Conrad and Peter to themselves.

Presently John Conrad's watchful eyes saw a new expression in the eyes of his oldest daughter. She sat often by herself, and when she joined the general company one of the young men, Baer by name, was certain to put himself as soon as possible by her side. John Conrad sighed, scolded his son Conrad and Peter Zenger for their constant punning on the young man's name, and then took his own medicine.

"They must leave me one by one," said he to himself. "Magdalena will doubtless soon be showing the same signs. Thank God, they can start together in a land of peace and plenty!"

Through January all went well with the pilgrims. Then Peter Zenger's father succumbed to the disease with which he had been afflicted. The end was sudden to no one but Peter, who would not be comforted. To him John Conrad talked when the solemn burial was completed.

"You believe in God and Heaven, dear child. Your father was worn and weary and he is at rest until the last day. You are young with life before you. You have your new country; to it you must devote yourself, heart and soul. The good God closes all gates sometimes so that we may see the more plainly the one through which He means we should go."

With the death of Zenger the character of the journey changed. As the calm of the early part of January had been extraordinary, so now were the storms. There appeared one morning along the western horizon a low bank of clouds which the children took at first, in wild enthusiasm, for land. As the clouds rose higher and higher, the color of the sea changed to a strange oily gray, and suddenly the ship began to rock as though the waves were rising like the clouds. Now a great wind whistled in the rigging with a sound different from any which the passengers had heard.

"What is it, father?" cried Sabina. "I am afraid."

The Germans looked at one another ominously.

For many days there was no sitting about the deck. No passenger was allowed, indeed, to leave the hold of the ship. The vessel, which had come to seem as solid as the earth, was tossed about like a cork. Again and again waves covered it, again and again with sails closely furled it fought for its life. The coverings of the hatchways were burst open and the sea rushed in. Giving themselves up many times for lost, the passengers tried to be as brave as they could. Those who could keep on their feet did all that lay in their power for their companions, and through the intolerable hours they prayed. When, once or twice during the storm, the captain visited them, they took courage from him.

"Conrad shall still catch a whale," said he in a voice which was cheerful through all its weary hoarseness. "And Peter shall play his drum, and the young maidens shall smile upon the young men."

Finally the long storm died away. The passengers were startled to realize that the Lyon shook and quivered no longer, that silence had succeeded the dreadful creaking in the timbers and the fearful whistling in the rigging, and that as the storm abated they had each one fallen asleep.

Now followed many days of cold, bright weather. Again the travelers sought the deck and the sunshine. Peter Zenger was able to remind Conrad one day, with a weak little smile, of the advice given by the book of directions.

"It would have taken a pretty lively swing to prepare us for such a shaking," said he.

In a day or two Peter lifted his drum and the band returned to its practicing. At first they played solemn tunes; then, with returning color to their cheeks, came fresh cheerfulness and courage. Even the older folk joined cheerfully in "Susy, dear Susy." The sailors mended the sails, the girls took out their knitting, and the children played about on the deck.

But the whole-hearted gayety of the early journey did not return. The great storm had taken fearful toll, and there were already twenty passengers less than there had been at the beginning. The crowding of the ship had become a serious menace to health. There were a few sick persons at whom the captain looked more anxiously than he had looked at the angry clouds or the tempestuous sea. Not the least of the dangers of the long journey were various diseases, contagious and deadly, which, once started, could scarcely be checked.

Now another terrible peril threatened the ship Lyon. The supply of food brought by the passengers was entirely exhausted, and that furnished by the ship was small in quantity and hardly edible. The drinking-water had become foul, and through a leak in one of the wooden casks a large quantity had been lost. Passengers and crew watched the sky for a cloud.

When at last the cloud appeared, it was accompanied again by the terrible wind and the heaving sea of the great storm. Again the passengers spent a week in the hold while the ship battled with a tempest which broke the rudder. Their respect for the captain and the stanch vessel which carried them grew to admiration and then to awe.

"It is no wonder they call the ship 'she,'" said Conrad feebly. "One would think it was alive. It is well named 'Lyon,' for it fights for us like a lion."

Again the passengers returned to the deck, more weak and miserable than before. The supply of water gathered in the storm sank lower and lower in the cask, the rations of salt pork and sea biscuit became daily smaller. Finally a day dawned when the supply of water was gone and the supply of food so low that starvation and death were imminent. John Conrad went about from group to group telling of the glories of the heavenly country to which their passage seemed now but the matter of a short time.

Then came help. A faint speck appeared upon the horizon. The children, when they saw it, flew to the captain, who, they discovered, had been watching it for an hour. It grew larger and larger, not into the shape of a rain cloud, but into the shape of a vessel. Young Conrad guessed the nature of the hope in the captain's eager eyes.

"Might they have food and water for us?" The captain shook his head.

"We cannot tell. They may be as badly off as we are."

The ship came closer and closer, flying, they saw joyfully, the pennant of England. The passengers grew silent and eyes burned and hearts almost ceased to beat. Presently they were able to hear a shout across the smooth sea. It was surely a friendly hail, and still the ship came nearer and nearer. Then the travelers heard, almost unbelieving, the blessed words:—

"We have potatoes and ground beans and dried venison from Her Majesty's colony. Do you wish to buy?"

"Yes," shouted the captain: "all you have."

"We have water, also. Do you need any?"

To this replied a hurrah from every throat on the ship Lyon.

"Thank God! Thank God!" cried the poor Germans.

In a short time the water casks were aboard and with them bags of vegetables and meat. For several hours the ship stood near and the sailors coming aboard the Lyon showed the Germans how to roast the potatoes in an open fire on the deck. Never had food tasted so good and water so delicious. It was a happy promise from the new country.

But the ship which brought this welcome freight brought also bad news. The freebooters along the coast were unusually active. The captain of the Lyon must look well to his guns. Everywhere in the ports of the new country one heard of ships boarded, of treasure taken, and of crew and passengers murdered The more closely the vessel approached the shores of America, the greater was the danger.

The Germans looked at one another with despair.

"We have suffered as much as we can bear!" cried some one.

"We have no treasures," said John Conrad to the captain. "Why should any one molest people so poor as we are?"

"My ship would be a treasure for them," answered the captain. "For that they would murder every soul on board."

Daily the passengers were assembled and drilled. The crew was only sufficient to sail the ship; for its defense the passengers would have to be depended upon. They were instructed in the firing of the cannon and informed about the methods of pirates in attacking a vessel.

"I have stood them off before," said the captain, uneasily, to John Conrad. "But I have always had more powder than I have now and a few trained gunners. If they are once aboard, we shall have to fight like tigers for our lives. They give no quarter."

Now sabers and pistols were laid ready so that there might be no confusion when the pirate ship was sighted. The women and children eyed the weapons fearfully; the men tried to laugh at their alarm. No one but the very youngest of the children slept the night through.

But no pirate ship appeared. The air grew softer and warmer; all began to breathe more freely and to look ahead, not for the ship of the dread enemy, but for the land. Eyes of passengers and crew were weary of the sea.

"They are afraid of our cross dogs," said Conrad, half wishing, as the danger faded, for a battle.

"Perhaps some brave captain has swept them from the sea," said Peter. "That would be a work I should like. I should board their ships as they have boarded others and then I should give no quarter."

At last, after the captain had declared the danger past, and had jokingly bidden the boys keep constant eyes upon the west for the promised land, the sailor on watch gave a loud cry:—

"Ship, ahoy!"

At once the passengers crowded to the prow of the boat. The approaching ship was a tiny speck, visible only to the sharpest eyes. For a long time it seemed to remain stationary; then they realized that it was steadily approaching. Children began to cry and mothers to hold them closer and closer.

"It is coming very fast, is it not?" said Conrad to the captain.

"Pretty fast."

"It is not necessarily a pirate ship," said John Conrad. "It may be a friendly ship."

"I believe it brings us good water and more food," said Sabina.

"I am sure that I can see the English flag," said George Frederick.

But the passengers were not allowed to linger long at the prow speculating about the strange vessel. Suddenly hopes were dashed and all speculations and prophecies interrupted by a sharp order from the captain. Women and children were to go below and each man was to take his place at once at the post assigned him. The ammunition—a perilously small store—was divided. Conrad and Peter Zenger were the youngest passengers who were allowed to stay on deck. They had been included in the drills, but for them there was now neither gun nor powder. They were given orders to keep out of the way of the crew and the older men. If any of the defenders fell, they might take their places. The two boys crouched down close to the mast, not venturing to go below to put away the drum and flute upon which they had been playing when the alarm was given.

Nearer and nearer came the strange ship. It was not so large as the Lyon, and it responded far more quickly to its helm. In the quickening breeze from the west it advanced with great speed. It floated no pennant—the wish of the Germans had been father to the thought.

Now a sailor in the masthead of the Lyon sent out a friendly hail. There was no answer. Again the sailor shouted. Still there was no reply. The crew of the Lyon could see now plainly armed men upon the deck of the stranger. The captain spoke in a whisper to the mate.

"We have powder for two rounds. Not enough to keep them off for five minutes. We—"

The stranger seemed actually to leap ahead, and the captain's eyes flashed. He raised his hands before his mouth like a trumpet.

"Fire!"

The two cannon which pointed toward the strange ship spit out a long streak of flame, and the Lyon trembled with a terrific detonation.

When the smoke cleared away, it was plainly to be seen that the pirates were not frightened by the warning shots. The balls had fallen short, and the pirate ship sailed on, as though to take quick advantage of the time required to reload the cannon. It was now so near that the evil faces could be clearly discerned upon its deck.