American Dream Read online

  Daylight came slowly that Friday morning, sixty-six days after the gallant ship had sailed from England. What would the new day bring? Would they really see land, or would Captain Jones’s cautious predictions prove to be a false alarm? Sarah and her family roused to a long-awaited call from the lookout, the call even John had begun to think might never come. “Land, ho!” the lookout bellowed.

  Scrambling from every corner of the ship, the passengers raced to the top deck. They peered over the ocean to the western horizon. A low, dim mass showed dark in the chilly November morning. People rubbed their eyes to make sure the thin hump was real.

  They sailed closer. A bleak and sandy shore with a few trees appeared.

  “Land!” Sarah screamed.

  “Land!” a hundred throats echoed her grateful cry.

  Elder Brewster’s voice rose above the rest. “Praise be to Almighty God! We have reached the New World!”

  After her first glimpse of America, Sarah looked away and let her gaze travel over her fellow passengers. Father and Mother stood silently, not cheering like many of the others. John’s eyes gleamed, but he kept silent. Tears streamed down worn faces. All turned toward the dim outline that meant the end of their journey. Men as well as women wept and were not ashamed. Many fell on their knees and blessed the God of heaven who had brought them safely to their new home.

  Sarah’s tender heart filled with sympathy for frail Dorothy Bradford, who lay in her husband’s arms, too weak to stand. Stephen and Elizabeth Hopkins were nearby—Oceanus in his mother’s arms, their other three children pressed close to their sides. Myles Standish touched his sword. Was he thinking of possible trouble with the Indians? Sarah pulled her shawl closer and shuddered.

  Even the Billington boys stood motionless. Sarah grinned. The strong clutch of John Billington’s hands on his sons’ shoulders showed he had taken to heart Captain Jones’s orders concerning Francis and John Jr.

  “We are here,” John Alden said.

  Sarah smiled when Priscilla Mullins raised her head and repeated, “Yes. We are here.” A crystal tear slid from one eye,

  and the look she gave the young cooper said far more than words.

  Sarah turned her face back toward land. Bitter disappointment shot through her. Where were the fertile fields in which crops so miraculously grew? Where were the forests that held deer and wild boar for the taking? Most of all, where were the buildings, the homes of those who had come before and sent back such glowing reports?

  A little distance away, Klaus leaned against the rail. Now that the Mayflower no longer pitched and rolled, Sarah dared go over to him. “Are you glad we are here?” she asked.

  “Aye, lass.” For once, Klaus made no attempt to scowl and act unfriendly. “I be thinkin’ ‘tis been a hard journey.” His face settled into its usual frown.

  Sarah realized how much she was going to miss the crusty seaman. “I suppose you’ll be going back soon. To England, I mean. Father said the Mayflower would sail back as soon as she was loaded with cargo.”

  Klaus snorted. “An’ where’ll we be gettin’ cargo?”

  Sarah’s eyes widened. “Why, from the Virginia colonists, of course.”

  John’s voice cut in. “This isn’t Virginia, Sarah.” He sounded strange.

  “Where are we, then?” She strained her eyes again, hoping against hope to discover all the wonderful things the New World was supposed to have. Her spirits dropped even farther. Not a ray of light came from shore. No ships lay between them and the land toward which they sailed. No activity hinted there were signs of life in the lonely stretch of earth ahead.

  “New England,” Klaus grunted. “The winds o’ fate blew us off course.”

  “That’s right,” John said. “Shoals and winds have forced us away from the Virginia Colony where we agreed to settle.”

  “Oh, dear!” Sarah had counted on warm greetings, perhaps a feast, from those already in the New World. Surely they would be glad to see new settlers, even those who planned to start their own colony. “Now what will we do?”

  Captain Jones, John Carver, and others were already discussing the issue. “We have a fine day ahead of us. The wind is slight and from the northeast,” Captain Jones said. “We must tack about and sail southward. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” the leaders answered. At the captain’s command, the Mayflower turned and started south. Within a few hours, she reached Pollock Rip, below Monomoy Island, known for heavy breakers and dangerous shoals. Captain Jones eyed it with alarm. Did he dare try to navigate the churning sea, now that the wind had died down?

  “We will turn back,” he decided. “Nightfall must not catch us here.”

  “Good thing,” John whispered to Sarah. “Klaus says this must be one of the most dangerous areas on the whole coast.”

  The Mayflower finally pulled free of the rip. She slowly sailed north, following the low and wooded shoreline. Before dawn on Saturday, she had reached Cape Cod. The sun rose. The ocean calmed, and the ship sailed into the wonderful, open Provincetown harbor Edward Winslow described as “large enough for a thousand sails to ride in safety.”

  John and Sarah quietly watched the sails lower. They heard the splash of the anchors drop. The journey had ended. Yet it had taken a terrible toll. Every person showed the strain of hunger and sickness. Even the children had aged in the two endless months at sea.

  Behind them lay persecution. Behind lay their friends and loved ones. Were they even at this moment anxiously wondering what had happened to the Mayflower and her passengers? Praying, perhaps, that the same God who watched over those in Holland and England might continue His loving care to the Pilgrims?

  Ahead lay—what? Winter, cruel and harsh. Fierce storms, too intense for the Pilgrims to search the unknown coast. No friends to welcome them. No towns, houses, or inns to provide comfort. They must continue living on the Mayflower until some kind of shelter could be built, and that shelter must be built immediately.

  The ship needed to start back to England as soon as possible. Captain Jones must make sure they carried enough food and drink for those on board, but he could decide to leave at any time. If he did, those remaining in America would be stranded—on their own until another ship arrived.

  “Who knows when that might be?” many asked.

  “The New World is hideous and empty,” Sarah cried. She gazed into the wilderness, wondering about the people and beasts that lived there. Would they attack the colonists who tried to take over their land?

  “Summer being done, all things stand upon them with a weather-beaten face,” William Bradford murmured. “The whole country, full of woods and thickets, represents a wild and savage hue.”

  Sarah didn’t understand everything he said, but the part about the New World greeting them with a weather-beaten face sank into her mind.

  She turned away from the forbidding coast, fancying that it shouted, “Go home, Pilgrims. Go home, Strangers. You don’t belong here.”

  Did John sense how she felt? Perhaps. His rough hand squeezed hers. “It isn’t home yet, Sarah, but it will be.”

  “I just feel like we don’t belong anywhere.” She sighed. “Not in Holland or England or on the Mayflower or here.”

  “I know, but at least we crossed the ocean safely.” He ran one hand through his brown hair until it stood straight up and waved in the breeze. “Don’t you think God can take care of us on land as well as at sea? He brought us through some pretty terrible storms!”

  William Bradford said much the same thing in a meeting of the Pilgrims and any others who chose to attend. “We shall be sustained by the Spirit of God and His grace,” he told the assembled group. “Let us give thanks.”

  One by one, the Pilgrim leaders prayed. Many voices rose loud and strong, John Carver’s and William Brewster’s among them. Some spoke in hushed tones, as if the men could not believe they had actually defied wind and wave and come safely into harbor.

  “Now that we have thanked God, what shall we
do first?” someone asked.

  “Wash our clothing!”

  The reply brought a storm of laughter, but everyone agreed. Long weeks of wearing the same clothing with no way to keep clean had made the living quarters stink. Everyone looked forward eagerly to when they could go ashore and scrub away the dirt and stench of travel.

  Just before dusk that evening, Sarah stole away from the other children who were amusing themselves at a game. She needed to think. Besides, she was tired, so tired her bones hurt. “My heart hurts, too,” she whispered.

  “Are you all right, Sarah?” John came up to where she stood huddled in her warm cloak, gazing at the unfriendly land that would be their new home.

  Instead of answering him directly, she said, “Nothing is like we thought it would be, is it?” She hated the little tremble in her voice but couldn’t seem to keep it from coming out along with her question.

  “I guess not.” John shoved his hands in the pockets of his rough coat. “Of course, this isn’t Virginia, but maybe it will be even better.” He cocked his head to one side and whistled a lively tune.

  “How can it be?” Sarah wanted to know. “For one thing, there’s no one here to tell us what to do. If we had landed in Virginia—”

  “I wish we had. At least there are other people there,” Sarah protested. “And food. I’m not the only one who is worried. I heard Father tell Mother he didn’t know how we could survive. It’s far too late to plant and harvest any crops.”

  “Thanks to the Speedwell that didn’t!” John laughed. Sarah knew he was trying to cheer her up and managed a weak smile. “I know. It didn’t speed well at all.” She glanced over her shoulder, facing east.

  “We won’t starve,” John promised, although how he could say such a thing, Sarah didn’t know. “Now, what else is bothering you, little sister?”

  “Klaus is going to leave us, and I don’t want him to go.”

  “Not as soon as we might think,” John whispered mysteriously. “There is a chance the Mayflower won’t be able to return to England until spring.”

  “Did Captain Jones say so?” Sarah demanded.

  “No, but Klaus told me the year is getting on so fast it may be too dangerous for the ship to start back. It was a stormy enough crossing, and the weather is getting worse and the gales heavier all the time.” John sighed, and his usually laughing mouth set in a straight line. “I wish Klaus would stay here. One or two of the crew have agreed to stay and help with the building, but he just laughed and said he was no landlubber. Oh well. No sense worrying about it until it happens. Anything else bothering you?”

  “Yes!” A lump rose to Sarah’s throat, making it hard for words to get past. “Being hungry and frightened is bad enough, but … but, John, it just isn’t fair!”

  CHAPTER 15

  Spying Again!

  John Smythe stared at his sister. “Fair? What isn’t fair?” “William Butten,” Sarah said in a small voice. Her freckles stood out more clearly than ever, and her green eyes blinked back tears. “Why did he have to die before he even saw the New World? He was so close!”

  “It makes me sad, too.” John felt the same way he had when Dr. Fuller’s young servant had been lowered into the waves. He stared at the shore. “Elder Brewster says we should give thanks that others of us didn’t die. Many crossings lose a lot more than one crew member and one passenger. The storms we went through could have torn the Mayflower apart.”

  “I am thankful.” Sarah dashed away tears with the back of her hand. “I just wish it hadn’t happened.”

  John continued to gaze at the wooded area ahead of them. “So do I, but it doesn’t help to look back. We’re going to be plenty busy getting settled before winter gets any worse.” He leaned on the ship’s rail, then jerked back. “Even with the ship anchored in calm waters, Klaus still keeps an eye on me,” John complained. “He has a way of mysteriously appearing just when I’m thinking about doing something!”

  “Good for him,” spunky Sarah said. “You need someone who can read your mind and stop you from getting into trouble before it happens.”

  The corners of John’s mouth turned down. “I thought you said I’m better than when we left Holland.”

  “You are, but that doesn’t mean you’re perfect,” she teased.

  “What good does it do to try and be good if people just keep thinking you haven’t changed?” He knew he wasn’t being fair, but he didn’t care. It hurt to think Sarah couldn’t see how hard he was trying to be the boy Father and Mother and God wanted. Well, all he could do was work harder.

  John’s good intentions flew away on the breeze all too soon. It began when the leaders called a meeting in the crowded main room to discuss plans. When the men began to gather, John boldly marched in with them.

  “What are you doing here?” someone sneered.

  John folded his arms across his chest and drew himself to his full height. “I am very close to being a man. I have a right to be here,” he haughtily told them. He then showed the irresistible smile that often got him what he wanted.

  This time it didn’t work. Loud laughter echoed through the crowd, especially from some of the London Strangers. John saw a sympathetic look on John Alden’s face, but Myles Standish and others just scowled. In spite of all John’s protests, he was ordered away from the meeting.

  Anger filled his heart. How dare they treat him like a child? John flexed his wiry arm and proudly noted a swelling muscle.

  Had he not been one of the few who remained well for most of the journey? Only the worst storms had laid him low, and then only for a short time.

  “I can’t bear to miss what they say,” he told Sarah. “I won’t, either.” Hot color flew to his cheeks. “I’m going to find a place to hide so I can see and hear what goes on. Come with me, Sarah. You need to know about our future, too.”

  His sister shook her head until her dark brown braids flopped up and down. “John Smythe, don’t you remember the last time I spied with you? Father and Mother were disappointed in us. I felt terrible.”

  “This is different,” he tried to explain. “I went into the meeting openly and honestly. Is it my fault the men wouldn’t let me stay?”

  “That doesn’t excuse your spying,” Sarah flared up. She put her hands on her hips the way she did when most upset with him. “Think what will happen if those same men catch you listening!”

  “Father won’t let them do anything to me, although he might!” John said. “Besides, I’m not going to get caught. Neither will you. Please, Sarah?”

  To his amazement, Sarah flatly refused. Sneaking admiration crept into John’s heart, along with a little feeling of regret. Way down inside, he had to admit how much he’d always liked being able to lead Sarah—even when it was into little paths of temptation! John quickly pushed away the thought and pleaded with her again to join him. Sarah only shook her head and stood her ground.

  “If you haven’t learned anything on the voyage, I have,”

  she told him. “I can’t stop you from spying, but I don’t have to join in. Remember what Father said the other time? Brothers’ keepers shouldn’t go along with other people when they do things that are wrong.” She stuck her freckled nose in the air and marched off.

  For a moment John was tempted to give up his spying idea. Then he thought of the rumors about all the exciting things to be discussed. No! He had to be there, to learn for himself what lay ahead.

  “Curiosity can’t be a sin,” he told himself. “Otherwise God wouldn’t have made me always wanting to know why.”

  Perhaps not, but sneaking into a meeting where you aren’t wanted and shouldn’t be is wrong, his conscience argued.

  John let out a great breath of air and half turned to follow his sister. The sound of angry voices stopped him in his tracks. Forgetting all about his conscience, he tiptoed toward the meeting room. The door stood open. The men gathered there were so intent on their argument that no one saw John slide inside.

  A qui
ck survey of the crowded room showed a pile of torn sails in the corner, waiting to be mended. A single quick dive put John under them. He held his breath and waited, but no one came to challenge him. Heart pounding like waves against the Mayflower’s hull, the boy lifted a sail. To his disappointment, all he could see was the backs of men waving their arms as they argued.

  John dropped the sail. At least he could hear. He bit his lip when laughter bubbled up and almost out. He hadn’t really needed to sneak in and hide. The men’s voices were loud enough to be heard halfway back to England!

  Snug under the sails, John listened hard. He burned with anger when William Brewster, William Bradford, John Carver, and others spoke of the sponsors’ demands. “You remember how they demanded ownership of the homes we build?” they said. “And how we must work for them seven days every week, with no time to attend to our own needs?”

  A rumble of agreement went through the assembly. “I remember how we sold tubs of our precious butter to pay the port fees,” someone called out. John thought it was Myles Standish.

  The arguing went on. “We aren’t at our grant and have no legal right here.”

  “We owe nothing to King James! This is the New World, America, a free country. We shall go where we please and do as we choose!”

  “Nay,” a strong voice protested. “That leads to lawlessness. We must have laws and obey them. We must also stay together. There are few enough of us, God knows. Even with His help, it will take all of us working together to make it through the winter.” Someone cheered.

  A voice John recognized as belonging to one of the Strangers disagreed. “We who are not of your faith know what will happen. You Pilgrims will take over and force us to obey whatever you decide.”

  “We shall never do that!” Elder Brewster’s clear tones brought a hush to the noisy crowd. “Did we not come to America to get away from the absolute rule of a king? We must make laws and choose the leaders who rule this new land in the same way we choose our church leaders. Every man who is the head of a household shall vote, in order to have a say in the government. What affects one affects our common good.”