Chapter 4

Shocks and Surprises

As soon as the Mayflower dropped anchor in Plymouth harbor, the Pilgrim leaders began mapping the main street of their village. They set land aside for a Common House and other public needs, and outlined plots of suitable size for each family.

Then people drew lots for first choice of plot, second choice, and all the way through the list. Drawing lots was their way of asking God to decide because, for them, no one person or group had the authority to make those decisions. The Pilgrims wanted New Plymouth to have opportunities for all—whether the settler was a Cambridge man like William Brewster, or someone like John Billington, who did not even share their faith. It was a new world, and they turned away from the class privileges that were part of everyday life in England.

During the long months at sea there had been nothing to do. Now dozens of tasks must be done as quickly as possible. Equipment and tools had to be unloaded from the ship. Trees had to be cut down and, because the settlers did not know about log cabins, sawed into lumber to build their houses. Reeds for roofing had to be gathered.

The men also needed to go hunting and fishing to add to the food supply. Most of the Pilgrims were not very skilled at these tasks; they didn’t even have the right kind of fishhooks.

Women and children helped by collecting wood and tending fires, and by cooking whatever food was available. Captain Standish made sure a sentry was standing guard on Lookout Hill every hour of the day and night. The possibility of attack was always in the minds of the Pilgrims.

But it was not the natives who attacked. It was a more deadly enemy: disease.

After five months of poor food and crowded living conditions, the Pilgrims—especially the women—were easy victims of a killer disease they called “the sickness.”

Dec./Jan. 1621

Six people died in December and eight more in January. So that no one outside the village would know how many had died and how few were left, the survivors buried the bodies at night, in the path between the landing and the village.

February 1621

In February the situation grew worse. Seventeen men, women, and children died during the month. But the remaining Pilgrims didn’t give up; they were willing to do whatever needed to be done for the good of the settlement. Even William Bradford, though second in command to Brewster, claimed no special privileges. After doing hard physical labor from dawn to dark, he shared the unpleasant task of nursing sick and dying men. He also took his turn at sentry duty.

Already the Common House was completed and in use as a hospital and storage place. Two or three family homes were occupied, and others were making good progress.

Such commitment so impressed Master Jones that he remained at Plymouth harbor even after the repairs to the Mayflower were completed. His decision was a happy surprise to the Pilgrims but a shock to the sailors, who were eager to start home because there were no natives around for them to trade and socialize with. The furious sailors threatened to mutiny.

Master Jones paid no attention; he was more concerned about the settlers’ needs than the crew’s demands. He knew that people still living on board would have no shelter from the bitter weather if the Mayflower left. He was also worried about their lack of food. Several times Jones took a couple of sailors with him and went hunting. They brought back wild ducks and geese, seals, and deer. The sailors wanted to keep all the meat for themselves, but Jones divided it with the colonists. What a change in the gruff captain!

Then one day just as the sun was setting, the settlers were shocked by loud, weird cries coming from the woods beyond Lookout Hill. What they heard was not a battle cry. It sounded like men shouting to cheer each other on. Brewster and Bradford were eager to use this chance to make friendly contact with their unknown neighbors. Standish wanted to fire a cannon shot, just to scare the shouters, but those weapons were still on the ship.

Elder Brewster spoke up. “It is almost dark. I suggest we wait and see what the natives do next.”

Standish ordered four men to stand guard around the Common House, slow-matches burning, ready to shoot if necessary. The rest of the men went inside, holding their muskets and expecting a call to action.

In the village and on the Mayflower, the women too were looking and listening anxiously through the long night.

But nothing happened!

Dawn came, as peaceful as ever. The Pilgrims went back to work, but they were even more watchful than usual.

That morning Captain Standish had a talk with Master Jones. Later Jones called his crew together. “Men, you are eager to set sail,” he said. “Earlier I asked you to help the settlers hoist their cannons out of the hold and take them up the hill and onto the platform prepared for them. You objected, saying that is not the job for which you are paid. Today I am telling you that I will never order the anchors raised as long as those cannons are on board. When they are gone, I will give orders to prepare the ship for sailing.”

He turned sharply and left them.

The moving of the cannons began that day, with the crew and colonists working together. The hard, slow job took several days. Then the captain fulfilled his promise and ordered a complete overhaul and inspection of all the ship’s gear. After being idle for three months, some of the sails and ropes and pulleys needed care and repair.

When the Pilgrims realized that the ship would be leaving before long, they took time to write letters home. Brewster and Bradford and Edward Winslow wrote detailed reports and suggestions to Robert Cushman, their business agent, and other friends. These would go on the ship when it sailed. (Much of what we know today of the early life of the Pilgrims comes from these letters and journals.)

About this time Captain Standish’s house was finished. Rose Standish had died, so he asked John Alden to share the house with him.

“Thank you, sir!” the young carpenter answered. “I’ll sure be glad to live in a house again, and on shore! I’ll help you take care of it, too.”

March 1621

Several families escaped the sickness unscathed during the hard winter months. During December, January, and February no one died in the Brewster, Mullins, Hopkins, and Billington families. Then in March William Mullins fell sick and died, followed by his wife and small son.

In his journal Bradford wrote: “Of the some 100 persons who came on the Mayflower, scarce 50 remain. And of these, in the time of greatest distress, there was but some six or seven healthy persons.”1

The Brewsters welcomed Priscilla Mullins into their family and home. She was worn out by nursing her parents and little brother, and numbed by her loss. Now John Alden was able to see her more frequently and to help comfort her. They made plans to marry.

Elizabeth Tilley was another young girl who had lost both parents to the sickness. Governor and Mrs. Carver took her into their home. Everyone was cared for in Plymouth.

Signs of spring were beginning to appear, marking the end of the terrible winter. Soon it would be time for the settlers to sow wheat, oats, and barley. They had brought barrels of these grains for planting, but with all the delays they had been forced to eat most of these supplies. They still had the corn they had found on Cape Cod, but they had no idea how to plant or cook it. They might yet go hungry—or starve to death.

Captain Standish feared that with the improving weather would come the natives who had lived in the village. He thought they might return to claim their lands. Knowing how unprotected the community was, he gathered the few healthy men in the Common House. He said to them, “It is important now for you to learn military orders. That means: what to do if we are attacked. We are few; each man must know his responsibilities.”

While they were studying and learning those rules, the thing they had most feared happened.

A shot rang out from Lookout Hill. As the men rushed to the street the sentry screamed: “Indians! Indians coming!”

Captain Standish barked an order and the men formed a line. Soon they saw one lone native. The smiling man carried no weapons.

Pointing at himself, the man said, “Samoset! Samoset!”

Then he waved at the settlers. “Ingliss?” he asked. “Ingliss? Samoset . . . know . . . Ingliss . . . sailors.”

His openness took the settlers by surprise. While Carver and Brewster tried to talk with him, Standish and the other men kept looking suspiciously in all directions. This fellow could be a decoy, they thought.

They could hardly understand a word Samoset said, but when he pretended to drink from a bottle, they understood what he wanted. They gave him “strong water and biscuits, and cheese, and pudding, with a piece of duck, all of which he liked well.”2 When he had finished eating, the conversation continued.

The still-wary settlers learned that Samoset was from a northern Algonquin tribe living on the Pemaquid River. He was visiting the Wampanoags, and he seemed to want to make friends. However, they could hardly understand him because most of his English words were those used in trading. After a while Samoset gave up and prepared to leave. Then he said, “Samoset go Massassoit. Squanto spik mush Ingliss.”

The Pilgrims had no idea what Samoset was trying to tell them. As he left the village, several men, still holding muskets, walked with him as far as the thick woods.

A few days later, with work going on as usual in the village, another shot from Lookout Hill alerted the people.

Once more the women called the children indoors; the men dropped their tools and grabbed guns, lighting the slow-matches as quickly as they could.

A tall, thin native came into view carrying a bow and some arrows. It was not Samoset but an older man with a serious, sad face.

Someone suggested shooting him. Standish growled, “Hold your fire! He has done us no harm.” His cool-headed command may well have kept Plymouth Colony from coming to a quick, bloody end.

The warrior held up one arm in solemn salute.

“Welcome, brothers,” he said. “Samoset say you needs help. Me, Squanto. I helps you?”

Mouths dropped open and muskets were lowered.

Women and children came close and listened too. Sorrow gripped their hearts as they heard Squanto’s story of being stolen from his village. When he told about coming home with Master Dermer and finding his family and tribe dead and the village in ruins, tears were in many eyes.

Squanto went on. “When I hear white mens in Patuxet dying I no care. Samoset tell me, “Families—women and babies! If Squanto no help, all die. Samoset talk long and wise to Chief Massassoit. Chief gave me free to come see.”

Squanto’s face softened as he looked at the children gathered around. “I like see little ones in my village again! I stay? I helps you?”

“Oh, please stay!” someone cried out. The tall brave was surrounded by welcoming smiles.

Squanto had found a new tribe. And when Stephen and Elizabeth Hopkins and their children took him into their home and hearts, he also had a new family to love. He felt needed and honored.

Finding food was the community’s greatest immediate need. One of the first things Squanto did was to show Giles Hopkins and other boys how to go barefoot into the mud flats at low tide and squash out eels, grabbing them and stuffing them into bags.

“This is easy! And fun!” they shouted.

It was also good meat, and plenty of it.

The waters were full of fish. Squanto introduced the settlers to the many ways of catching different kinds of fish in rivers and the sea.

“No go hungry,” he told them, shaking his head. “Plenty fish.”

One person who watched with special interest what Squanto was doing for the colony was Master Jones. He smiled. The settlers were in good hands. It would be all right for him to leave. He gave orders for casks to be filled with fresh water and other supplies loaded onto the ship.

When the Mayflower was ready, Jones had another surprise for the settlers.

“Friends,” he said, “there are empty living quarters on the Mayflower. Any of you who would like to go with me are welcome to do so. I will not charge you a single penny!”

What an easy way to escape from all the dangers, difficulties, and uncertainty of life in the New World! But not one Pilgrim, not one Adventurer accepted Jones’ kind offer.

Instead they asked him, “How long will it take for you to get to England?”

Jones shrugged. “That depends on the weather and the ship. Maybe six weeks, two months. Maybe more.”

The Pilgrims hated to see the ship leave. It had been their home, their center of activity, and their source of security for nearly eight months. And Jones, who at first had disliked the Separatists and criticized them, had undergone a complete change of heart. He’d stayed with them even when the crew rebelled, giving people shelter and providing food. They tried to express their appreciation and their fears for the ship’s safety.

He tried to encourage them. “Don’t worry, friends! I’m sure we’ll get safely to England. And as soon as I can settle my affairs, I’ll get on the next ship heading this way, and make my home here with all of you!”

What a surprise! He had become one of them.

Toward the end of March, on a clear day with a favoring wind, the anchors were hauled up and the Mayflower set sail. The whole company gathered on Lookout Hill to watch. Near the four Brewsters, John Alden stood beside Priscilla Mullins, quietly holding her hand so she would not feel alone.

Squanto was with the Hopkins family, adding his strength to them and to all the settlers.

On the hill a cannon fired a farewell salute. It was answered by one from the Mayflower.

Of the 102 people who had sailed from old Plymouth, forty-eight had died. That left twenty-five men, twenty-five children and teenagers, and four married women. Their thoughts were centered on the battered ship as it left the harbor and slowly disappeared.

They were worried, and no wonder. The Mayflower carried all their letters and reports. If the ship should run into trouble and go to the bottom of the Atlantic, no one in England, Holland, or northern Virginia would ever know what had happened to the settlers. People would think the Mayflower had sunk with all on board. Who would guess that fifty-four people were stranded in New England, hoping for help from home?

For the colony to grow and be permanent it would need more people. More animals were needed too—more cows, sheep, pigs, and chickens—as well as cloth for new clothes and leather for shoes.

If the Mayflower sank there would be no way the settlers could contact people at home. All they could do then would be to hope some English ship just happened to come into the harbor. They felt absolutely helpless.

Perhaps Elder Brewster was the only person whose faith in their settlement never wavered. When others were worried and doubtful, he said to them, “Look hard, and see them coming—two sails—three. Then mark you in how short a time there come fleets of sail to us, with kith and kin.”3

They looked, but saw no sails. They could only hope and pray.

1. William Bradford, Plymouth Plantation, pp. 61-63.

2. John C. Miller, The First Frontier, p. 35

3. Quoted by Ernest Gebler, The Plymouth Adventure, p. 366