“Whoso shrinks or falters now,Whoso to the yoke would bowBrand the craven on his brow.Take your land of sun and bloom;Only leave to freedom roomFor her plough, and forge, and loom.”Whittier.
“Whoso shrinks or falters now,Whoso to the yoke would bowBrand the craven on his brow.Take your land of sun and bloom;Only leave to freedom roomFor her plough, and forge, and loom.”Whittier.
“Whoso shrinks or falters now,
Whoso to the yoke would bow
Brand the craven on his brow.
Take your land of sun and bloom;
Only leave to freedom room
For her plough, and forge, and loom.”
Whittier.
At Southampton the Pilgrims made no lengthened stay, pausing but to perfect some necessary final arrangements.[123]A fortnight later, on the 5th of August, 1620, the “Speedwell” and the “Mayflower” weighed anchor, and hoisting sail, set out in company for America. The English soil had scarcely dipped below the horizon, when the “Speedwell” made signals of distress; she was found to leak badly. After consultation, the voyagers wore ship, and put into Dartmouth harbor for repairs. Here the Pilgrims passed eight days, “to their great charge, and loss of time and a fair wind.”[124]
On the 21st of August, a fresh start was made. This time a hundred leagues of sea were passed, and the vessels were just rounding Land’s End, when lo, the “Speedwell” again bore up underpretence of unseaworthiness. Once more the shores of England were regained, and anchor was dropped in Plymouth harbor. The captain of the recusant ship, backed by his company, was dismayed at the dangers of the enterprise, and gave out that the “Speedwell” was too weak for the voyage. “Upon this,” says Bradford, “it was resolved to dismiss her and part of the company, and to proceed with the ‘Mayflower.’ This, though it was grievous and caused great discouragement, was put into execution. So after they had taken out such provision as the ‘Mayflower’ could stow, and concluded both what number and what persons to send back, they had another sad parting, the one ship going back to London, and the other preparing for the voyage. Those that returned were such as, for the most part, were willing to do so, either out of discontent or some fear conceived of the ill-success of a voyage pressed against so many crosses, and in a year-time so far spent. Others, in regard to their own weakness and the charge of many young children, were thought least useful, and most unfit to bear the brunt of this hard adventure; unto which work of God and judgment of their brethren they were content to submit. And thus, like Gideon’s army, this small number was divided, as if the Lord thought even these few too many for the great work he had to do.”[125]
But though Cushman wrote, “Our voyage thus far hath been as full of crosses as ourselves ofcrookedness,”[126]no dangers could appal the dauntless; and “having thus winnowed their numbers, the little band, not of resolute men only, but wives, some far gone in pregnancy, children, infants, a floating village, yet in all but one hundred souls, went on board the single ship, which was hired only to carry them across the Atlantic; and on the 6th of September, 1620, thirteen years after the first colonization of Virginia, two months before the concession of the grand charter of Plymouth, without any warrant from the sovereign of England, without any useful charter from a corporate body, the Pilgrims in the ‘Mayflower’ set sail for the New World, where the past could offer no favorable auguries.”[127]
But these Christian heroes of a grander venture than that classic voyage which Virgil has sung of old Æneas,
“Trojæ qui primus ab orisItaliam, fato profugus, Lavinaque venitLitora,”[128]
“Trojæ qui primus ab orisItaliam, fato profugus, Lavinaque venitLitora,”[128]
“Trojæ qui primus ab oris
Italiam, fato profugus, Lavinaque venit
Litora,”[128]
unawed by the abounding perils of the sea and land, unchilled by the desertion of their comrades, kept on their solitary way, and “bated no jot of heart or hope.”
The “Mayflower” was a small vessel, yet smaller ones had repeatedly explored the ocean. “Columbus’ ‘ships’ were from fifteen to thirty-two tons burden, and without decks. Frobisher had traversed the watery waste with a vessel of twenty-fivetons, and Pring had coasted along the shores of New England in a bark of fifty tons. Those were manned by hardy seamen, to whom the tempest was a play-fellow; but these men and women and children knew nothing of the sea; they only knew that ships sailed, and too often did not return; they had seen the sea, even along the coasts of England and Holland, lashed into fury. To trust themselves upon it on an uncertain voyage to a wilderness harbor” was no gala undertaking; yet serenely they accepted the situation, thankful to God for civil rights and untrammelled liberty to hymn his praises.
“The voyage of the pioneer ship,” says Elliot, “was long, tempestuous, and monotonous, as what sea-voyage is not? yet, with a firm purpose, she opened a way through the buffeting ocean towards the setting sun. Already its rays came to them a little shorn; the autumn solstice was at hand, and winter not far away. In religious exercises, in hopeful conversation, the exiles passed the weary days. These were varied by storms, and once by a great danger. In the straining of the ship, a strong timber threatened to break. Then, among the lumber which they had brought, a large ‘iron screw was found, and the ship was saved.’ Their faces were turned westward, but who can wonder that a lingering look was cast behind, and that pleasant memories for a moment dimmed their recent sufferings and present hopes? Men, women, and children suffered the ‘sickness of the sea,’ that sicknesswhich is inexorable, which weakens the knees, burdens the heart, and paralyzes the brain. The sailors laughed and scoffed; but to them it seemed that death was nigh. Yet it was not; one only of the whole number, William Butten, died during the voyage; and one was born to take his place, a son of Stephen Hopkins, named Oceanus, the son of the sea.
“Daily the Pilgrims turned their eyes westward, hoping for a sight of the new land. They had shaped their course for the Hudson river, of which the Dutch navigators had made favorable reports. As the voyage lengthened, their longings for the land increased. They had been tossed on the sea now sixty-five days, when, on the 9th of November, the long, low coast-line of the New World gladdened their eyes. They thanked God for the sight, and took courage. On the 11th of November they dropped anchor within Cape Cod. Sixty-seven days they had passed in the ship since their final departure from England, and one hundred and twelve since the embarkation at Delft Haven. They were weary, many were sick, and the scurvy had attacked some. They might well rejoice that they had reached these shores.”[129]
On their departure from Holland, Robinson had handed them a long and pregnant letter of instruction and advice. In this he counselled, among other things, the early formation of a body politic, and the inauguration of a civil government. “Asyou are not furnished with persons of special eminence above the rest to be chosen by you into office of government,” he added, “let your wisdom and godliness appear not only in choosing such persons as do entirely love and will to promote your common good, but also in yielding unto them all due honor and obedience in their lawful administrations.”[130]
In obedience to this sage counsel, the Pilgrims now, before landing, met to consider how their government should be constituted; and they formed themselves into a body politic by this formal, solemn, and voluntary compact:
“In the name of God, Amen; We whose names are underwritten, the loyal subjects of our dread sovereign King James, having undertaken, for the glory of God, and advancement of the Christian faith, and honor of our king and country, a voyage to plant the first colony in the northern parts of Virginia, do, by these presents, solemnly and mutually, in the presence of God and of one another, covenant and combine ourselves together into a civil body politic, for our better ordering and preservation, and furtherance of the ends aforesaid; and by virtue hereof, to enact, constitute, and frame such just and equal laws, ordinances, constitutions, and offices, from time to time, as shall be thought most convenient for the general good of the colony: unto which we promise all due submission and obedience.”[131]
“This instrument—under which John Carver was immediately and unanimously chosen governor for one year—was signed by the whole body of men, forty-one in number; who, with their families, constituted the one hundred, the whole colony, ‘the proper democracy’ that arrived in New England. This was the birth of popular constitutional liberty. The Middle Ages had been familiar with charters and constitutions; but they had been merely compacts for immunities, concessions of municipal privileges, or limitations of the sovereign power in favor of feudal institutions. In the cabin of the ‘Mayflower’ humanity recovered its rights, and instituted government on the basis of ‘equal laws’ for ‘the general good.’”[132]
Law and order provided for, the Pilgrims next proceeded to select the precise spot for their settlement. “The first Virginia colony,” remarks Bancroft, “sailing along the shores of North Carolina, was, by a favoring storm, driven into the magnificent bay of the Chesapeake. The Pilgrims, having chosen for their settlement the country near the Hudson, the best position on the whole coast, were conducted, through some miscalculation, to the most barren and inhospitable part of Massachusetts.”[133]
It was a mooted question whether to plant a colony on this frigid coast, or to hoist anchor anew and set sail for the Hudson. The captain of the “Mayflower”favored an immediate settlement;[134]and the voyagers, weary of the sea, and, perhaps, influenced by the fact that the winter began to breathe upon them, finally determined to send ashore a reconnoitering squad to sound the disposition of the natives, and to select a landing-spot.
In 1584, the settlers under Sir Walter Raleigh’s patent had named the entire southeastern coast of North America Virginia, after Queen Elizabeth; but in 1614 the name of New England began to be applied to the more northern portion of this immense extent of territory;[135]and thus it happened that here, on this wild coast, the Pilgrims had a dear home word still wrapped around them.
On the 13th of November, the exiles unshipped their shallop. It was found to want repairs. Sixteen or seventeen days must elapse ere it could be gotten ready for service, so the carpenter said. Impatient of delay, sixteen men, “with every man his musket, sword, and corslet,” went ashore, headed by stout Miles Standish, the military leader of the Pilgrims.[136]
“Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was alreadyFlaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.”[137]
“Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was alreadyFlaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.”[137]
“Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.”[137]
“On account of the danger,” the expedition “was rather permitted than approved.” But Standish and his comrades had braved peril too often to yield it obeisance. They found the shore inexpressibly bleak and barren. Winter had already set his icy kiss upon the streams. Nothing greeted their eyes but heavy sand, a few stunted pines, and some sweet woods, as junipers and sassafras. They made this record in their journal: “We found the greatest store of fowl that ever we saw.”[138]
Explorations were at once commenced. “They sent parties along the coast, and into the forests.” “About ten o’clock one morning,” says a member of the band, “we came into a deep valley, full of brush, woodgaile, and tiny grass, through which we found little paths or tracks, and then we saw a deer, and found springs of fresh water, of which we were heartily glad, and sat us down and drank our first New England water.”[139]Continuing their march, they were perplexed by the frequent forest cross-paths. Once they struck a track “well nigh ten feet broad,” which they thought might lead to some human habitation; but eventually they concluded that it was “only a path made to drive deer in when the Indians hunted.”
Still they found no natives; and wearying of that path they took another, when, lo, they saw a mound “which looked like a grave, but was larger.” “Musing what it might be,” they finally determined to examine. “We found,” says the old chronicler,“first a mat, and under that a fair bow, and then another mat, and under that a board about three feet long, finely carved and painted; also between the mats we found bowls, trays, dishes, and such like trinkets. At length we came to a fair new mat, and under that two bundles—one bigger the other less. We opened the greater, and found in it a great quantity of fine and perfect red powder, and the bones and skull of a man. We opened the less bundle, and found the same powder in it, and the bones and head of a little child.
“Once, when examining one of these grave mounds, we found a little old basket full of fair Indian corn, and on digging farther, found a fine, great basket full of very fair corn of this year, with some thirty-six goodly ears of corn, which was a goodly sight; the basket was round and narrow at the top; it held about three or four bushels, which was as much as we could lift from the ground, and it was very handsomely and cunningly made.”[140]
This corn was carefully preserved for seed. “We took it,” says the conscientious narrator, “proposing, as soon as we could meet with any of the inhabitants of that place, to make them large satisfaction.”[141]And afterwards this corn was mentioned to Massasoit, the Indian king, when the exiles proffered it back to the owners, and on their refusal of it, paid them in “whatsoever they might rather choose.”[142]
This exploration was unsuccessful; as was also the first expedition in the shallop, which had been at length repaired. “Some of the people that died that winter took the origin of their death” in this second enterprise; “for it snowed and did blow all the day and night, and froze withal.” The men who were from time to time set on shore “were tired with marching up and down the steep hills and deep valleys, which lay half a foot thick with snow.”[143]
Checkered by these adventures, the days passed away, and meantime the winter deepened. Nothing had yet been done, the captain was impatient to be gone, and he threatened to set his passengers ashore at hap-hazard under the cheerless skies and bitter winds of drear December.[144]
Pushed to renewed exertion by these considerations, the dauntless Pilgrims once more launched their shallop, and quitting their loved ones in the ship, again essayed to find some proper site for a settlement. This time Carver, Bradford, Winslow, and Standish, accompanied by eight sailors, made the coasting voyage.[145]Infinite were the hardships which this little band, sailing in December, in an open boat, were compelled to undergo. “Some of them were like to have swooned with cold.” “The water, dashing in spray upon their clothes, froze, and made them like coats of iron.” For fifteen leagues they held on their cheerless course upon the winter sea. They had quitted the “Mayflower”on the 6th of December; two days later they landed. “Whereupon,” says the old chronicler, “we espied some Indians, very busy about some black thing; what it was we could not tell, till, afterwards, they saw us, and ran to and fro as if they had been carrying away something.” “It was the body of a grampus. Ere long a great cry was heard, and one of the company came running in, shouting ‘Indians! Indians!’ This was followed by a flight of arrows; but Captain Standish was ready, and quickly discharged his musket; and then another, and another, so that the Indians retreated, and, except for the fright, no harm was done.” “The cry of our enemies,” remarks the narrator, “was frightful. Their note was after this manner: ‘Woath wach haha hach woach,’ sounds which we may now utter with safety—if we can.”[146]This spot was afterwards known as “First Encounter.”[147]
No convenient harbor had yet been found. But “the pilot of the boat, who had been in these regions before, gave assurance of a good one which might be reached before night; and they followed his guidance. After some hours’ sailing, a storm of snow and rain began; the sea was swollen; the rudder broke; the boat had to be steered with oars. Every moment the storm increased; night was at hand; to reach harbor before dark, as much sail as possible was crowded on: then the mast broke into three pieces; the sail fell overboard. The pilot, in dismay, would have run the shallop on shore in acove full of breakers. ‘About with her,’ shouted a sailor, ‘or we are cast away!’ They got her about immediately, and, in passing over the surf, they entered a fair sound, and found shelter under the lee of a small rise of land. It was dark, and the rain beat furiously; yet the men were so wet, and cold, and weak, that they slighted the danger to be apprehended from the savages, and going ashore, after great difficulty kindled a fire. Morning, as it dawned, showed the place to be a small island without the entrance of a harbor. Time was precious; the season advancing; their companions were left off Cape Cod in suspense. Yet the day was required for rest and preparation. It was so spent. The following day was the ‘Christian Sabbath.’ Nothing marks the character of the Pilgrims more fully than that they kept it sacredly though every consideration demanded haste.”[148]
On Monday, the 11th[149]of December, 1620, the exploring shallop quitted the island Patmos, and, proceeding up the harbor, landed the Pilgrim scouting party, on that same immortal day, at Plymouth Rock. There, in one sense, New England was born; and, as the Forefathers stepped upon the rock-ribbed shore, it uttered its first baby-cry, a prayer and a thanksgiving to the Lord—an echo of the old Chaldean shepherds’ song, “Glory to God in the highest; on earth peace, good-will to men.”