"Ancestor worship" became very popular during Victorian and Edwardian times. It was to this era that we owe most our myths about the Pilgrims, including the iconic painting of Pilgrims walking to meeting with buckles on their hats and shoes, and all clad in black, none of which was accurate The story of Plymouth Rock actually dated back only to the Revolutionary War period and was never substantiated by any period text.For nearly twelve years "brave little Holland" had given shelter to the true men and women who, in 1607—8, were driven out of England by the persecution of the bishops because they would worship God in their own way.
After many trials and dangers they came together at Amsterdam in 1608, and formed a little "Independent" church, with Richard Clifton, their old pastor among the Nottingham hills, for their minister, and John Robinson, their teacher, as his assistant.
Governor Bradford tells us, in his "Historic," that "when they had lived at Amsterdam about a year they removed to Leyden, a fair and beautiful city and of a sweet situation," on the "Old Rhine." Clifton was growing old and did not go with them, and Robinson became their pastor.
For eleven years—nearly the whole time of "the famous truce" which came between the bloody wars of Holland and Spain—they lived here, married, children were born to them, and here some of them died.
Most of them had been farmers in England, but here "they fell to such trades & imployments as they best could, valewing peace & their spirituall comforte above any other riches whatsoever, and at length they came to raise a competente and comfortable living, but with hard and continuall labor."
But about 1617 these good, brave people of Pastor Robinson's flock became very anxious as to their circumstances and future,—especially for their children,—and at length came sadly to realize that they must again seek a new home. Their numbers had much increased, they could not hope to work so hard as they grew older, while war with the Spaniard was coming, and would surely make matters harder for them. But the chief reasons which made them anxious to find another and better home were the hardships which their children had to bear and the temptations to which they were exposed. Besides this, they were patriotic and full of love of their God, their simple worship, and their religious liberty.
As Englishmen, though their king and his bishops had treated them cruelly, they still loved the laws, customs, speech and flag of their native land. As they could not enjoy these in their own country, or longer endure their hard conditions in Holland, they determined to find a home—even though in a wild country beyond the wild ocean—where they might worship God as they chose, "plant religion," live as Englishmen, and reap a fair reward for their labors. It was very hard to decide where to go, but at last they made up their minds in favor of the "northern parts of Virginia" in the "New World" across the Atlantic. They found friends to help them both in England and in Holland, and they helped themselves; but even then, owing to enemies, false friends, and many difficulties, it was far from easy to get away, and they had sore trials and disappointments.
And now "the younger and stronger part" of Pastor Robinson's flock, with Captain Miles Standish and his wife Rose and a few others, were to go from Leyden, in charge of Elder Brewster and Deacon Carver, and some were to join them in England, leaving the pastor and the rest to come afterward.
It was a busy time in the Klock Steeg, or Bell Alley, where most of the Pilgrims lived, all the spring and early summer of 1620, when they were getting ready for America. Deacon Carver and Robert Cushman, two of their chief men, were in England, fitting out a hired ship—the Mayflower. But the Leyden leaders had bought in Holland a smaller ship, the Speedwell, and were refitting her for the voyage, an English "pilot," or ship's mate (Master Reynolds), having come over to take charge. (Bradford spells the word "pilott." He was in reality a mate, or "master's mate," as Bradford also calls him—the executive navigating officer next in rank to the master. The term "pilott" had not to the same extent the meaning it has now of an expert guide into harbors and along coasts. It meant, rather, a "deck" or "watch" officer, capable of steering and navigating a ship. He was on board the Mayflower practically what the mate of a sailing-ship would be to-day.) Thirty-six men, fifteen women, sixteen boys, four girls, and a baby boy—seventy-two in all, besides sailors—made up the Leyden part of the Pilgrim company. Of these, six went no farther than Plymouth, Old England, though three of them afterward joined the others in New England. Of the fifteen women, fourteen were wives of colonists and one was a lady's-maid. The thirty-six men of Leyden included all who became Pilgrim leaders, except three.
At last they were off, and on Friday, July 21 (31)1 they said good-by to the grand old city that had been so long their home. Going aboard the canal-boats near the pastor's house, they floated down to Delfshaven, where their own little vessel, the Speedwell, lay waiting for them. At Delfshaven they made their last sad partings from their friends, and Saturday, July 22 (or August i, as we should call it), hoisted the flag of their native land, sailed down the river Maas, and Sunday morning were out upon the German Ocean, under way, with a fair wind, for the English port of Southampton, where they were to join the other colonists.
For three fine days they sailed down the North Sea, through Dover Straits, into the English Channel, and the fourth morning found them anchored in Southampton port. Here they found the Mayflower from London lying at anchor, with some of their own people—the Cushmans and Deacon Carver—and some forty other Pilgrim colonists who were going with them. Among these our Leyden young people were no doubt very glad to find eight more boys and six girls of all ages, two of them being Henry Sampson and Humility Cooper, little cousins of their own Edward Tilley, who was to take them with him.
For ten days the two ships lay in this port. Trying days for the elders indeed they were. Mr. Weston, their former friend (who had arranged with the merchants to help them, but was now turned traitor), came to see them, was very harsh, and went away angry. The passengers and cargoes had to be divided anew between the ships, thirty persons going to the Speedwell and ninety to the Mayflower. Then the pinnace sprung a leak and had to be reladen. To pay their "port charges" they were forced to sell most of their butter. And there were many sad and anxious hearts. But great times those ten days were for the larger boys and girls who were allowed to go ashore on the West Quay (at which the ships lay), and to whom every day was full of new sights, both aboard the vessels and ashore. "Governors" were chosen for the ships; a young cooper—John Alden—was found, to go over, do their work, and come back, if he wished, on the Mayflower; and all was at last ready. They said what they thought were their last farewells to England, and down the Solent, out by the lovely Isle of Wight, into the broad Channel, both ships sailed slowly, "outward bound."
But twice more the leaky Speedwell and her cowardly master made both ships seek harbor—first at Dartmouth, where they lay ten days while the pinnace was overhauled and repaired, and again at Plymouth, after they had sailed "about 100 leagues beyond Land's End." At Plymouth it was decided that the Speedwell should give up the voyage and transfer most of her passengers and lading to the Mayflower, which would then make her belated way over the ocean alone.
Some twenty passengers—the Cushmans, the Blossoms, and others—went back to London in the pinnace, and after a weary stay of nine days, on Wednesday, September 6 (16), the lone Pilgrim ship at last "shook off the land" and, with a fair wind, laid her course for "the northern coasts of Virginia."
One hundred and two passengers sailed from Plymouth on the Mayflower. They had been so constantly stirred up, in so many ways, since leaving Leyden or London, that they were glad to settle themselves at last for their long voyage. After the two ships' companies were united, Carver became Governor (in place of Mr. Martin, the treasurer, who made many enemies), and though the vessel was badly crowded, and of course many were seasick, things were soon in order, and with the fine weather which lasted till they were half-way over the sea all were soon used to the ship life.
But who were the passengers? Of the seventy- six who came from Leyden six went back, leaving seventy, and there were but thirty-two left of those who joined at Southampton. Of these thirty-two, nine were men, four young men, five women (wives), eight were boys, and six girls. So there were, in all, forty-four men (including the hired seamen and servants of full age), nineteen women, twenty-nine young men, boys, and male (minor) servants, and ten girls of all ages.
The master of the Pilgrim ship was Thomas Jones, "a rough sea-dog" who had been a pirate, but was a good navigator and had sailed one or more voyages to "Virginia" (as all North America was then called). The first mate (or "pilot") was John Clarke, a quiet man and good officer, who had also been to "Virginia"; the second mate (or "pilot") being Robert Coppin, an "over-smart" young man who had made one voyage to the New England coast. Besides these were the "ship's merchant," or supercargo, Mr. Williamson, a fine man, who had doubtless also been in some parts of "Virginia," as he seems to have known the Indian "lingo," and lastly, the ship's surgeon, Giles Heale, of whom we know very little.
Not much that is good can be said of Master Jones, and his record is wholly bad. He inspired confidence only in his skill as a seaman and sportsman. The Pilgrim leaders evidently made little talk with him, and we may be sure that the young folks feared him. He died a pirate. Clarke was modest and faithful, one in whom all seem to have had confidence. Coppin was not, as a certain author has portrayed him, "old," "saintly," or even a "pilot" (in the sense of a guide), and he was but the third officer of the Pilgrim ship, and of very little account, though he came very near wrecking the Colony by his blunders on the shallop's first visit to Plymouth harbor.
If our young folks of to-day could see the old Mayflower they would think her a queer sort of ship, with her high, three-decked stern, high forecastle, stumpy masts, big lateen sail, toy cannon, bowsprit sails, funny anchors, etc. She was no less queer inside, for her main deck after-house was divided up into little cabins for the women and girls, set around a central cabin, or saloon; the deck-house above was taken up by the officers' quarters; while in the "between-decks" were the little cabins and bunks of the men and boys who were passengers, and their crude appliances for fire and cooking.
The high, tilting, pitching poop-deck at the stern was no place to play shovel-board or ring-toss, as one does to-day on an ocean liner, or, in fact, for any one to be without good sea-legs. The deck-space in the "waist," or middle, of the ship was apt to be very wet and unsafe because of the breaking seas, and in very rough weather there were above decks no places where even the men and larger boys could safely stay.
John Howland, one of the Leyden young men, proved this. "Coming above the gratings [i.e., upon the high after-deck] he was, by a sudden seel [roll] of the ship," tossed overboard, and would surely have drowned if he had not caught hold of a rope trailing alongside, and, though he was buried deep under the waves, held on, and by means of the rope and a boat-hook was drawn into the ship. Though he was ill after this escape, he lived many years to tell the story to his grandchildren, and became a prominent man in the Pilgrim Colony.
The Pilgrim leaders very wisely bought a large sail-boat, or shallop, for fishing, and to take them from place to place; but when they tried to put it aboard the Mayflower it was so large they had to cut it down to stow it between decks. They got it in, and as the men and boys could not stand or lie about the decks in stormy weather, they lay in the shallop. It must, in fact, have been a favorite lounging-place during the voyage, for Bradford says that the shallop "was much opened [i.e., her seams were opened] with the people lying in her."
In the beautiful weather which they had for weeks under the harvest moon, after they left the land, many of the passengers could walk or lie about the decks at times; could sometimes cook (no very easy matter at sea in those days); could chat with old friends or new acquaintances; and could give the little ones, now and then, a whiff on deck of the fresh air and a sight of the big ship and the sea.
A sharp change of weather came all too soon, and heavy gales, wild seas, and severe storms followed the fine days and nights. "The ship was shrewdly [roughly] shaken and her upper works made very leaky. One of the main [deck] beams in the midships was bowed and cracked and [there was] some fear that the ship could not perform the voyage." Clearly there was great anxiety and alarm and some danger. Fortunately a passenger had brought a jack-screw aboard, by which the bent deck-beam was forced up into its place, so that a post was set under it, the leaky decks were calked, and the danger and discomfort lessened. The jack-screw has become historic and is sometimes said to have saved the ship and Colony; but a few wedges would have done as well.
In late October, after the fine weather had come again, a son was born to Mistress Elizabeth Hopkins, the wife of Master Stephen Hopkins. This boy was named Oceanus in commemoration of his having been born at sea.
A few days after the birth of the first child to the colonists, the first death occurred among them —though one of the crew had died before. William Butten, Dr. Fuller's servant-assistant, who had come with him from Leyden,— and was no doubt known to all the Mayflower boys and girls as "Billy Butten,"—died and was buried in the sea. Although they were now nearing land and were full of joy and hope at thought of it, there can be no doubt that as Elder Brewster offered prayer, and the shrouded form slid into the dark waters, there were many saddened hearts among those who had known the poor boy in the old Dutch city.
All were now anxiously watching for signs of land, and three days later, on the morning of Friday, November 10 (20), at daybreak, the lookout at the masthead gave the welcome cry of "Land, ho!" They made it out to be "Cape Cod," as named by the navigator Gosnold, and laid down on the chart of Captain John Smith—of Pocahontas fame—as "Cape James."
But they were not yet where they meant to land, so they "squared away" around the cape for the mouth of "Hudson's River," little dreaming of the plot to be sprung upon them, or how soon they would turn back. Not long after noon the ship was in the midst of dangerous "rips and shoals" off the easterly shore of the cape, and, after much (apparent) trouble, got out of them before dark. The wind shifted to "dead ahead," and Master Jones declared it impossible to go on, and that he should go back to Cape Cod harbor.
We know now that he had been hired and ordered by his employers, Thomas Weston and Sir Ferdinando Gorges, and by the Earl of Warwick, whose evil work he had long done, to land his passengers somewhere north of the forty-first parallel of north latitude. They would then be within the territory of the Council of Affairs for New England, controlled by the wily Gorges, who had long wanted these Pilgrim colonists and plotted and manceuvered to get them upon his domain. This was Master Jones's chance, and he was quick to seize it, and so steal the Pilgrim Colony for his masters from the London Virginia Company, who were the colonists' friends and patrons.
So round again the good ship went for the harbor of Cape Cod. All night under "short sail" she worked slowly back to the "sighting" point. And now another trouble arose; for as soon as it was determined to go about and land farther north, Stephen Hopkins, John Billington, and others of the colonists who joined in England, began to whisper that if they settled on territory not covered by their "patente," neither Governor Carver nor any other would have authority over them, and that "when they came ashore they would use their own libertie."
To meet this difficulty the Leyden leaders and others drew up that famous "[Mayflower] Compact" by which the first "civill body politick" was organized in America, and "government by consent of the governed" was first set up. A little beginning for such mighty results!
Saturday morning, November 11 (21), found them just north of the cape, with only the harbor to reach. Bradford says: "This day before we came to harbor ... it was thought good there should be an association and agreement, that we should combine together in one body, and to submit to such government and governors, as we should by common consent make and choose." So while the ship was slowly "beating" into harbor the "Compact" was made and signed, Carver was "confirmed" as Governor, and the peace and good order of the Pilgrim Colony were made secure.
They sounded their way carefully into the harbor, and, circling round it, let go their anchors, three quarters of a mile from shore, under the wooded point (now Long Point, Provincetown harbor) separating the harbor from the sea—sixty-seven days from Plymouth, ninety-nine from Southampton, one hundred and twenty-nine from London.
To get out the long-boat and set ashore "a party of fifteen or sixteen men in armor, and some to fetch wood, having none left, landing them on the long point toward the sea," was the work of an hour. The party returned at night, having seen no person or habitation, but with the boat loaded with juniper wood (savin), and fires were soon lighted between decks.
Their first Sunday in New England, we may be sure, was a quiet, grateful, and restful one; but they were up betimes on Monday, got out their shallop, and set the carpenters to work on her. The women went ashore to wash their clothes in the fresh water of a near-by beach pond; but the water was shallow where they landed, and the men had to wade ashore from the boats and carry the women, bundles, and kettles. A very merry time they no doubt had, that first morning ashore in the New World, and a sight it was at which to have snapped a kodak; but, alas! many colds were taken that day, from which some never recovered.
"Some sickness began to fall among them," Bradford tells us, but with soldierly steadiness they closed ranks where one or another dropped out, and bravely sent out two expeditions to spy out the land and find a fit place for them to inhabit. They saw a few Indians at a distance, found their habitations, graves, and concealed corn, a few deer, wild fowl and sassafras in plenty, and good water, but no good place for a home. The weather changed suddenly,—was cold and stormy; the ground froze, and Master Jones became surly and domineering.
Monday, November 27 (December 7 according to our reckoning), a son was born to Mistress Susanna White, wife of Master William White. He was named Peregrine, and he was the first white child born in New England, and the last survivor of all the Pilgrim company.
Numbers of "whales" (probably blackfish or grampuses) frequently played about the ships in the harbor, "and one lying within half a musket shot, two of the planters shot at her." But the musket of one blew in pieces, stock and barrel; yet none were hurt—nor was the whale.
On Wednesday, December 6 (16), the third exploring party got away in the shallop, to try to find a harbor recommended by young Coppin, the second mate. Captain Standish was in command, and with him were Governor Carver, Bradford, Winslow, Warren, Hopkins, the brothers Tilley, Rowland, Dotey, two of the colonists' seamen, Alderton and English, the mates Clarke and Coppin, the master gunner, and three of the sailors—eighteen in all, most of them the leaders. If disaster befell this party it would surely end the undertaking—and they narrowly escaped it.
The day after their departure Master Bradford's wife fell overboard and was drowned, and the day following Master Chilton died, and was buried ashore.
On Wednesday, December 13 (23), the third exploring party returned to meet sorrowful news, but bearing good tidings. They had a short but fierce encounter with Indians (Nausets), and met a severe gale with snow later the same day, in which they were very near being cast away in making a harbor which Master Coppin thought he knew, but about which he was mistaken. They—and the Colony—were saved by the quick sense and pluck of Thomas English, master of the shallop, and landed on an island which they named for Master Clarke, the first mate, and spent two days there.
On Monday, December 11 (21), which we now call "Forefathers' Day," they examined and sounded the harbor, landed on a rock upon the shore (the now famous "Plymouth Rock"), found a good town-site, and agreed upon it as the place for settlement—the colonists approving the same upon their report.
On Friday, December 15 (25), the ship weighed anchor to go to the place agreed upon (which is called "Plimoth" by Captain John Smith upon his chart of 1616) after lying in Cape Cod harbor five weeks and losing four of her company. The shallop piloted them across the bay, but when within six miles, the wind coming northwest, they could not get into the harbor, and were forced to go back to their old anchorage. This would have been Christmas day according to our present reckoning, but was ten days earlier by theirs. But to them Christmas was an offense, as a holy day of the Church of England which the Pilgrims had left, and it was many years before they would in the least honor it. When Christmas day, as they knew it, arrived, ten days later, three more had died, and sorrow and sickness filled the ship; those who could, worked hard all day on their first log-house, and so far were they from merrymaking that they began that day to drink water instead of beer, though Master Jones gave some at night to those on board. There was no "Christmas" on the Mayflower!
The next day, December 16 (26), the wind again being fair, ship and shallop took final departure from Cape Cod, this time made Plymouth harbor safely, and the shallop piloted the ship to the anchorage she had sounded out for her the Monday before. A little before dark the weary but immortal Mayflower let go her anchors just within a long spur of beach a mile and a half from the landing rock—one hundred and two days from Plymouth to Plymouth, one hundred and fifty-five from London. The Pilgrim voyage was over. "Freedom's ark had reached her Ararat."
The next day was the Sabbath. Goodwin says: "It was devoted to worship and rest; yet curious eyes must have been peering over that ship's rail much of the day." But wild and beautiful nature was all those eyes could discover. The old village of the Patuxets which once stood on the westerly shore had been without hut or inhabitant since the terrible plague of 1612-15 had swept the red man away. The good Massasoit dwelt forty miles away, at Pokanoket. Not an Indian did the Pilgrims see till the last of January, nor one to talk with till Samoset came, in the middle of March. It was March 22 before he brought Massasoit.
By the extinction of the Patuxets they were practically
Monarchs of all they surveyed, their right there was none to dispute;On the morrow they began to lay the foundations of the Pilgrim Republic, with Liberty for their corner-stone.
From the center around to the sea they were lords of the fowl and the brute.
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1 Owing to a difference in the methods of reckoning time used by England and other nations between the years 1582 and 1752,—when all became practically alike,—it was common to make use of "double-dating." In so doing, the terms "Old Style" and "New Style" were used, and to make the dates of the former and the latter correspond, ten days are added to all dates of the period between 1582 and 1700, eleven days to those between 1700 and 1800, and twelve days to those between 1800 and 1900. December 11, 1620, Old Style, would be by our present reckoning December 21, 1620 ("Forefathers' Day").
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