American Dream Read online

  “I want to hear every single thing that happened,” Rebekah told Will. “But first, we have some news for you. While you were gone, we had a visitor.”

  Will, who had wearily dropped to a pallet on the floor, sat up straight. His eyes opened wide enough to satisfy even Rebekah. “A visitor? Don’t tell me an Indian came when we didn’t see any!” Disappointment spread over his face.

  Rebekah laughed. “I didn’t say it was an Indian.”

  “There’s no other ship in the harbor, and we’re miles from any other white people.” Will looked puzzled. “Who else could it be? Did he come in a canoe?”

  “No.” Rebekah giggled again. For once she had news before Will. It was fun to keep him guessing.

  “Then he must have walked,” Will figured out. “Is he still here?”

  “He’s still here, but he didn’t walk.” Rebekah burst into laughter. So did Mother.

  “Go ahead and tell him,” Mother finally said.

  “Susanna White had her baby,” Rebekah explained. “The first white child born in New England. Susanna and William named their new son Peregrine.”

  “Peregrine! I thought the Hopkins family had already chosen the worst possible name when they called their son Oceanus,” Will protested.

  “Peregrine means pilgrim or wanderer,” Mother put in.

  Will grinned. “You were right, Rebekah. He isn’t an Indian. He didn’t come in a canoe, he didn’t walk, and he’s still here. Now will you listen to what happened to us?”

  “Of course.” She scooted closer to Will, propped her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, and prepared to hear Will’s and Father’s adventures.

  An hour later, Will finally finished his exciting stories of everything that had happened on the trip. Rebekah solemnly said, “I want to see the New World, but I don’t want to be so thirsty I don’t know what to do like you were. Or have to fight my way out of thorn thickets. You and Father will be in danger whenever you go on one of those expeditions.”

  “God will protect us,” Will told her.

  Rebekah shook her head. “Not if you do foolish things. You’d better stay close to Father.”

  “I have to.” Will made an awful face. “Captain Standish will have my hide if I don’t. So will Jake.” He grinned. “That is, if Father doesn’t get to me first!”

  Rebekah wasn’t satisfied with the answer but didn’t want to nag. She touched a torn place on her brother’s jacket. “Tomorrow when it’s lighter, I’ll mend that for you.”

  “Thank you.” Will yawned. “I don’t know when the next scouting party is going out. I hope I get to go along.”

  “Don’t plan on it,” Father warned. “I heard Captain Jones say he planned to lead the next party. I suspect it will be after the shallop is ready. Captain Jones wants to explore the river we saw close to where we found the corn. The river’s mouth is swampy, but it’s wide enough for the shallop.”

  “Do you think Captain Standish might speak a good word for me?” Will asked. Rebekah noticed how round and anxious his eyes looked.

  “Perhaps.” Father’s brown eyes twinkled. He yawned. “It’s been a long trip. Time to say good night.”

  Rebekah lay wide-eyed and sleepless long after her family fell asleep. When she did close her eyes, visions of Indian graves, Indian corn, and angry Indians ran through her head.

  “Lord,” she prayed, “You know I wish Will would be happy just to stay here with me. He isn’t, though. He will be terribly disappointed if he can’t go again. Please keep him safe, and help me to be brave.”

  Comforted at last, Rebekah fell into a deep and restful sleep.

  Ten days later, the shallop was repaired enough for use, although more work needed to be done on it. Thirty men climbed aboard, but not Will. Captain Jones chose those he wanted and scoffed at the idea a mere lad could be useful to him. “Stay here and protect the ship,” Jones said.

  Rebekah knew he was mocking her brother. She was glad Will was wise enough to realize that showing disappointment or arguing with the captain would merely strengthen the older man’s opinion that Will was too young to go.

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Will put on as cheerful a grin as he could and saluted. The surprise in Captain Jones’s face made Rebekah proud of her brother.

  “Good fer ye, lad,” Jake hissed before ambling down the deck in the rolling sailor’s walk the crew used in order to stay upright during storms.

  Father echoed the words. “Taking disappointment like a man is important,” he told Will. “Each time we do this, it makes us stronger for the next time.” He glanced at the sky. “It may be well you were left behind, son. I don’t like the looks of those clouds.”

  Father’s fears proved correct. The scouting party ran into terrible weather. The shallop had to turn back. Some of the Pilgrims refused to do so. They waded through icy, waist-deep water to get to shore. Up hills and down valleys through six inches of snow they went. The wind blew. It snowed all that day and night. When they finally returned to the ship, many of them were so sick that they never recovered.

  When the weather improved, the scouting party tried again and found a few deserted wigwams, built of bent sapling trees with the ends stuck in the ground. Thick mats covered the wigwams both inside and out. A mat also covered the wide hole used as a chimney. Another mat made a low door. Even more mats served as beds.

  The scouting party found wooden bowls, earthenware pots, many baskets, deer feet and heads, eagle claws, and other curious things.

  At Corn Hill, where they had first discovered the corn, they dug in the frozen earth and discovered more corn to eat as well as some beans. Again, the settlers vowed to pay the Indians for what they took. They triumphantly carried their treasures back to the Mayflower.

  “This is a real find,” the leaders told the people when they returned to the ship. “Indian corn is well known by the explorers from the Caribbean and the Carolinas, as well as here. It gives two harvests a year and makes into good bread. We are fortunate, indeed, to have found it.”

  Rebekah wasn’t sure how she felt about the corn. They needed the food desperately, but if they took the Indians’ corn, what would the brown-skinned people do for food? She put the worry out of her mind when the scouts reported they’d seen a plentiful supply of game: deer, partridges, wild geese, and ducks. Will would be happy to go hunting with the men, and the fresh meat would be a welcome addition to their diet. And it would be their own food, fairly earned, not stolen.

  Edward Winslow described seeing whales in the bay. “One lay above water. We thought she was dead. One of the men shot, to see if she would stir. His musket flew into pieces, both stock and barrel! Thanks be to God, no one was hurt, although many stood nearby. The whale gave a sniff and swam away.”

  Rebekah was glad the whale had not been hurt. But Captain Jones and others more experienced in fishing decided they would try whaling the next winter. They could make three thousand to four thousand pounds in whale oil, a fortune indeed!

  To Will’s delight, as soon as the shallop was completely repaired, another expedition set out. This time Captain Standish was in charge. He took the same group that had gone with him on his earlier expedition. Will waved good-bye to Mother and Rebekah, then huddled between Father and Jake. Later he told Rebekah that the cold was so intense that the spray froze on their coats. Two men fainted from the cold.

  While Will and Father were away, Rebekah kept busy helping Mother and the other women. They were still sleeping at night on the Mayflower and spending most of their time during the day there, too, and Rebekah was heartily sick of the cramped quarters. She longed for the day when their family could once more live alone in their own home, rather than sharing every moment with many other families. She yearned for the freedom to run and run, without tripping over the belongings and stretched-out legs of the others in their group. Once more, she could not keep herself from envying Will and the freedom he had simply because he was a boy.

  One night she l
ay awake, listening to the familiar sounds of snores, fussy babies, and soft murmurings all around her in the crowded sleeping quarters. The air was thick with the odor of many unwashed bodies, but Rebekah barely noticed, being used to breathing the heavy air. But she was tired of listening to so many other families settling down for the night. Two women were arguing nearby, their whispers hissing like angry wasps. Someone else was crying softly, long shuddering sobs that Rebekah knew belonged to a grown woman rather than a child.

  The sound made her uneasy, and she held her hands over her ears, trying to shut out the noise. If only she could fall asleep so that she could wake up and it would be morning, time to get up and go up on the deck in the fresh air.

  “Hush now, Dorothy.” Rebekah recognized her mother’s voice, speaking softly to William Bradford’s wife. Rebekah took her hands away from her ears so that she could hear better. “I know it’s hard to be so far from your little son,” Mother was saying, “but you must trust him to our Lord. God is with your son across the ocean in Holland, just as He is here with us in this new world. In God, you and your son are not separated at all. Think of it like that.”

  “I cannot.” The words sounded more like a moan, as though Dorothy Bradford were in pain. “My little son. My baby …” Her voice dissolved into sobs. “I should never have left him.”

  “Little John will be safe there in Holland, Dorothy,” Mother answered quietly. “You know that’s what you and William decided. Think of how hard the voyage was. So many of us fell ill, including you yourself. You know it’s hardest on the children. And now with winter coming, we know hard times may lie ahead, as well. Your little boy is safe and warm and well fed, and you shall see him again by and by, when you and William have built a good home here.”

  “I should never have come to this terrible place,” Dorothy choked out.

  “But you are here now, Dorothy, and William needs you by his side.”

  “I am no use to William,” Dorothy sobbed. “I am too ill. I will never be well again.”

  “Of course you shall be well. You are already far better than you were.”

  But Rebekah could tell that Dorothy Bradford was crying too hard to listen to the reason in her mother’s voice. “I cannot bear it,” she wept. “I cannot bear to live without him. I will never see him again. I hate this place. I shall die here, I know, and never see my little John again.”

  “Hush, Dorothy.” Mother’s voice was gentle but firm. “You must have faith. You will make yourself more ill if you continue crying like this. Our men need us to be strong.”

  “I cannot be strong,” Dorothy Bradford wailed.

  “Rely on God,” Rebekah’s mother replied, “and He will be your strength.”

  But Dorothy Bradford would not listen. She was still crying when Rebekah finally fell asleep.

  The next day, the early morning hush was split by the sound of a scream. Rebekah sprang up from her mattress, her heart pounding. “What is it?”

  Mother pushed the hair back from her face as she scrambled to her feet. “I don’t know. I’ll go see.”

  She disappeared up the ladder to the upper deck. Rebekah waited, her blanket clutched around her against the morning chill, her heart pounding with a terrible foreboding.

  From the deck above, she heard the sounds of agitated voices. A man shouted something. Rebekah thought she heard the word “overboard,” and then there was the thump-thump-thump of running feet, followed by a splash. Rebekah dropped the blanket and yanked on her skirt and waistcoat. Not bothering with her stockings, she ran barefoot up the ladder.

  Mother and several other women were leaning over the ship railing. “What happened?” Rebekah asked.

  Her mother glanced at her, but she seemed to barely see Rebekah. “A woman has fallen overboard,” she said, her voice trembling. Her face was very white.

  The women huddled together, waiting while one of the sailors climbed back on board the Mayflower, the limp and dripping body of a woman clutched in his arms. As he threw his leg over the railing, Rebekah saw it was Jake. His face was grim as he gently laid the woman down on the deck.

  “Oh, Dorothy,” Mother whispered.

  Rebekah stared down at the pale, quiet face of Dorothy Bradford. She looked more peaceful than Rebekah had ever seen her since they left Holland.

  She was too quiet, though. With a gasp of fear, Rebekah looked up at her mother’s face. The look in Mother’s eyes told Rebekah the truth.

  Dorothy Bradford was dead.

  CHAPTER 4

  More Trouble

  All day, Rebekah huddled in her spot between the chicken coops. No one called her name, bidding her to do some chore. An awful hush hung over the Mayflower. Even the sailors went about their business quietly. The sound of weeping floated up from the sleeping quarters below. Rebekah had cried, too, but now she had no more tears left to cry.

  She watched the hens shift their silly heads from side to side. Their soft, gossipy voices comforted her a little, but her heart felt heavy and strange inside her. She kept remembering the conversation she had overheard the night before between her mother and Dorothy Bradford. Dorothy had been right: She would never see her son again. Why had God let her die?

  The question went around and around inside her mind, until at last, tired from lack of sleep, her head slipped sideways against the chicken coop. With a shuddering sigh, she slid into a shallow sleep.

  “I wonder where our womenfolk are.” The sound of Father’s puzzled voice made Rebekah raise her head.

  “Why would they all be below deck in the middle of the day?” That was Will’s voice now. “Mother? Rebekah?”

  “Here.” Rebekah scrambled out from between the chicken coops and lifted her woebegone face to her brother. “Oh, Will, the awfulest thing has happened!”

  Will’s face turned white. “Not Mother!” The terror in his voice drove the fog from Rebekah’s mind.

  “No,” she reassured her brother. “It’s not Mother.”

  “I am fine, son.” Their mother’s muffled voice came from the hatchway.

  Father ran to put his arms around Mother. “What is it, Abigail?”

  Mother’s words fell as heavy as hailstones. “Dorothy Bradford has drowned.”

  “It can’t be true!” Will looked more astonished than distressed, and Rebekah knew he truly couldn’t believe what had happened.

  Rebekah remembered the way William Bradford had looked when he said good-bye to his young wife. She had seen the tenderness in his eyes, and the memory made her choke with fresh tears.

  “How did it happen?” asked Father.

  “A tragic accident.” Mother sounded as if she had wept so many tears there were no more left in her. “Apparently, she fell overboard when no one was around to hear her cries and save her.” She took a deep breath. “Will, stay here with your sister on deck and tell her about your journey. I wish to speak with your father below.”

  “Of course.” Will put his hand on Rebekah’s shoulder. He peered into her tearstained face and asked, “Why is Mother acting so strange? She isn’t like herself at all.”

  Rebekah looked down at the deck. She gulped and twisted her apron front into ugly wrinkled knots, but she could not find the words to answer her brother’s question.

  “What’s the big secret?” he demanded.

  She looked at him, afraid to put into words the awful thing she had heard earlier. “Promise you won’t tell?” she said at last. “Mother doesn’t know I heard her talking with some of the other women. I don’t believe it, anyway!”

  “Don’t believe what?” She could hear that Will’s patience was slipping, and for a moment she could not understand how he could sound so annoyed in the midst of such sorrow. Then she realized that he still did not truly believe that Dorothy Bradford could be dead.

  Rebekah stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “Some people are saying Dorothy Bradford’s drowning wasn’t an accident!”

  Will jerked back from his sister so qu
ickly she nearly lost her balance. “Rebekah Cunningham, what did you say?”

  “Shh!” She placed a finger over her lips and leaned close again. “Some of the people say Dorothy Bradford did not drown from an accident.”

  “You don’t mean somebody pushed her?” Will looked sick. “That’s impossible!”

  “No, but it’s just as bad.” Fresh tears came to Rebekah’s eyes. “They say she leaped into the sea, that she hates it here and went crazy because she won’t ever see her little son in Holland, and—”

  “It’s wicked gossip, and I don’t believe a word of it!” Will cried, keeping his voice low. “She was only twenty-three years old. I know she’s been sick, but so have a lot of others.”

  Rebekah’s stomach churned, and it felt like a heavy rock lay in the bottom of it.

  “Mother doesn’t think it’s true, does she?” Will asked.

  “Nay, son.” Father had come up to them so quietly that neither had heard him. “Neither do I. This is a sad thing, and the least said about it, the better. William Bradford will need all our friendship. Don’t mention his wife to him. He has already shown he prefers silence in the matter.” Father put an arm around each of them. “Mother and I are counting on you to be loyal.”

  “What if people talk to us about it?” Rebekah asked.

  “Simply tell them you have been asked not to speak of it.” He sighed and looked across the bay. “Only ninety-nine of our number will sail to our new home. God grant that we do not lose many more.”

  Long after Father went below, the children stayed on deck. Will quietly told Rebekah that there had been a storm and the explorers had seen some Indians. He quickly described the area where they would settle. Rebekah asked a few questions, and then they fell silent. Neither made any attempt to seek out friends, even Jake. They had known Dorothy Bradford since they were small. They still found it hard to believe the frail, white-faced woman had drowned.

  “It will be many months before the news travels across the ocean,” Will said at last.