A Sample of
The Great American Story
Our company to the New World was comprised of more than just our thirty-seven Separatist brethren. The Strangers amongst us included folk who sought a new beginning, craved adventure, or undertook this venture for financial reasons; founding a new colony could prove to be a most lucrative enterprise. Regardless, ’tis a hard thing to leave one’s entire life behind and plunge into the unknown. It hath caused much agony of soul, and many a tear hath been shed in the realization that fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, may ne’er be seen again.
Dilemma
(Master Peter Browne)
I stand a man undecided,
My conscience pulled to and fro,
I needs must quiet my spirit
That I might have a certainty which way to go;
Should I stay where my roots are strong and deep,
Where generations who made me now sleep?
Or gather the courage and faith to fly,
Not knowing the where, nor understanding the why.
Ah! Guide me, Almighty Lord,
By Thy Spirit, and by Thy Word!
Shine a light upon the path
Thou hast chosen
That I might press forward, undeterred.
May I not falter, nor cringe, nor make a mistake,
Though my mind protesteth and my flesh doth quake!
Help me gather the courage and faith to fly,
Knowing Thou shalt be there, and
Thou knowest why.
’Tis truly a mystery how one man may view life and contemplate a relocation, whilst his brother may view the exact situation so very differently. Alas, I cannot offer help or guidance, for each man must find the reasoning in his own soul.
One Man’s Life
(Master Richard Britteridge)
To leave this beauteous land
Where generations before me
Have known blessing,
Doth cause deep soul sadness,
For the roots of family
And familiarity go so deep.
And yet, e’en paradise
Is not so sweet
If one cannot keep
Body and soul together.
If there be no way for betterment
(Which there is not),
Then I see this venture
To the New World, as heaven-sent.
And though I have made up my mind,
Each step forward
Doth leave a dragging step behind,
Of memories too many to number
Great complexity of sweet and sad,
Laughter and pain;
This tormented heart can scarce contain
The heaviness of leaving
All that has been loving and good
In one man’s life.
Forward,
On!
Capricious mind,
Do as thou art bidden;
Forward,
To the New World
To begin afresh
This man’s life.
Pack up and leave ... again? Thou jesteth not! And yet, what choice have we? Whilst ’tis virtually unfathomable to leave home behind — parents and siblings, wives and children — God willing, they shall follow us later. Yea, many of us have the determination and commitment to see this journey through, yet for others this decision to leave proveth unfathomable, and my good wife doth agonize over our leaving.
Thine Own and Always True Love
(In Memory of Master Degory Priest)
Thou art serious
To leave thine home?
To leave us alone
Whilst thou shalt
Journey forth
To the New World?
Naught is there!
’Tis empty of civilization
’Tis said!
And thou wouldst leave
Our hearth and bed
To venture into wilderness?
I know, I know,
Thou hast heard ‘the Word;’
Thou art led to go;
Very well,
Go then, my husband,
Across the sea.
But know this:
With the freshening wind
I shall follow thee,
For whither thou art,
There I shall be:
Thine own and always
True love.
Have I not said Master Bradford is a fine and capable man? He doth write so well of our adventure. Of us he said, “They knew they were pilgrims, and looked not much on those things, but lifted up their eyes to the heavens, their dearest country, and quieted their spirits.”
We Shall Arrive
(Elder William Brewster)
My Brethren,
’Tis time to leave this goodly place
Which hath given us the grace
To worship God as our conscience guides;
Now let us lift our eyes to the heavens —
Our dearest home —
And quiet our spirits;
Yea, the sea may billow and foam,
Great difficulties we may bear;
Yet, we shall pass every test,
For in the sufficiency of God we shall rest.
So, Mr. Jones, let us sail with the tide,
Certain that Providence shall be our guide,
And we shall arrive
At the place to begin: Virginia!
Remaining
While more stalwart souls can sail away,
I’m tethered here with feet of clay —
No bold, adventurous stirrings in my loins.
So, take thine leave, if thou must go;
I’ll watch the sky, for sure, I know
A westward wind shall bring thee back again.
And thou shalt find me waiting here
With open arms, never fear;
If thou must go, I know thou shalt return.
Thine place beside the hearth I’ll keep,
Keep thine stool and place to sleep —
Thy wandering shall be o’er someday,
While I bide here with feet of clay.
Autumn 1620
With our original departure date in July, then suffering setbacks, our actual date of departure being delayed until September sixth, the Year of our Lord 1620, we knew ’twould be a long voyage, and difficult. We did not, however, anticipate as long a crossing as we endured. This epic voyage proving arduous enough for adults, ’twas e’en more onerous for the children. (In memory of Mistress Katherine Carver)
... And Wait
(Young Master Bartholomew Allerton)
My tummy doth ache;
My face is hot;
It stinketh down here!
’Tis nasty and dark.
I should like sunshine
And fresh air!
I should like to run
Like the wind
Climb a tall tree
From a long limb swing,
Roll down a hill,
Hear birds sing.
But ’tis freezing on deck,
And slippery, too,
I am not allowed there;
I must quietly bide
In this awful place,
And I pray that Mummy
Will not see my face,
For I cannot help tears
That do burn and fall.
I shall simply turn
My face to the wall
And wait,
Blow my nose,
Wipe mine eyes,
And wait.
Thou Shouldst Be Afeared
(Young Master William Button)
Master Bradford hath said, “There was a proud and very profane young man, one of the sea-men, of a lusty, able body, which made him the more haughty; he would always be condemning the poor people in their sickness, and cursing them daily with grievous execrations, and did not let to tell them that he hoped to cast half of them overboard before they came to their journey’s end, and to make merry with what they had; and if he were by any gently reproved, he would curse and swear most bitterly ...”
Execration
Lilly livered landlubbers;
Away!
Not one of thee
Be any good!
So, stay ...
Keep below and foul not
Mayflower’s deck
With thy putrid puking
Lest,
One after another
I heave thy miserable carcasses
Into the deep,
Fathers, children, mothers!
What?
Thou shouldst be e’en afeared to sleep
For ere this voyage shall be o’er
In Davy Jones’ locker
Shall ye all rot;
Thine stinking, maggoted flesh,
Forgot,
So, let thy God save thee then,
Ye pious,
Psalm-singing saints,
Do ye ken?
And hearty shall I be
And hale,
Making merry with thy stuffs,
When thy half-witted faith
Shall fail!
Master Bradford hath concluded, “But it pleased God before they came half seas over, to smite this young man with grievous disease, of which he died in a desperate manner, and so was himself the first that was thrown overboard. Thus his curses light upon his own head; and it was an astonishment to all his fellows, for they noted it to be the just hand of God upon him.”
Below Decks
(Mistress Mary Allerton)
I said I would reserve judgement, and so I shall,
but I also reserve the right to tell the tale truly.
Clutching my expanding belly,
the babe within me becomes restless
and the children snuggle into my skirts for safety,
for comfort, for this is indeed a daunting beginning
to a new life in the New World.
Our quarters are deep in the belly of the ship,
dank, and low-ceilinged:
when I stand, my cap brushes the timbers above us.
The men must bend and stoop,
and quietly murmur of aching shoulders and backs.
‘Tis cold and dark and dank,
and privacy is accomplished with blankets and quilts
hung from beams, which do little
to quieten sounds or eliminate odors.
And though we do our best to be clean, still, we all smell.
The melody of retching and loosening bowels are constant companions
to the ceaseless rocking of the ship,
and with several sickening and too many troubled with
seasickness, the noxious stench of overflowing slop buckets
mingled with the fragrance of vomit now pervades our space.
We all of us crave fresh air, fresh food, and warm water
with which to bathe.
The crew doth not want us on deck
(they say there is danger,
which, I suppose there may be)
thus, there is no relief to the utter misery below decks.
If God be gracious to us, in years to come
we shall tell little ones standing by our knees
of this voyage we made for their betterment,
Yea, God is faithful.
And we endure: I know not how,
but surely, we shall endure.
Night Song
(Mistress Joan Tilley)
Mr. Tilley,
Kindly pull the quilt a little closer, dear,
For the cold seepeth in;
The hay beneath us now riddled with lumps
Doth little to comfort these aching bones,
Ah, thou art burning up, my dear, burning up.
While my own nose doth run and my feet feel froze,
The putrid fragrance in this ship
Causeth thine cough to worsen and
Thy belly to gripe most grievously;
Ah, my dear, let me hold thee close,
Hold thee close …
What have we done?
1654 - 1675
The Gloaming
(Mistress Susanna White Winslow)
Day now done, comes the evening,
The sky splashed with fuchsia and umber
While I drowsily daydream
And almost slumber
In a warm cocoon of peace.
The melody of evening breeze
Rustling through autumn leaves
Taketh me back, lo, many years
When innocence bloomed.
‘Come frolic! Come run!
Come laugh and be young!’
A tender maiden, beauteous and lithe,
Envisioned none other life
Than living and loving and growing old
As generations before time
Had lived and worked and run and strolled
O’er hills and dales,
The lanes and shires of England.
Once upon a time I romped as they,
‘Till the time we sailed away;
Strangers and Saints crammed to cross the sea
In that ship of destiny:
Mayflower.