Seated at Captain Milbourne’s breakfast table were Drew; Captain Burleigh; Lady Arbella and her husband, Mr. Johnson; and John Winthrop. To Drew’s surprise, he was aboard the Arbella, named after Lady Arbella, daughter of the earl of Lincoln and one of the ship’s most important passengers. The ship had sailed as scheduled on March 29, but unfavorable winds kept it from going any farther than Yarmouth.
Conversation was pleasant and varied, ranging from prospects of the wind shifting to the need for additional provisions since they were so long in port, to an occasional sea story featuring Captains Milbourne and Burleigh.
Attention turned to Drew when Captain Burleigh told the breakfast group how the young man had stopped a runaway horse on the wharf. It was then that Captain Burleigh suggested Drew might be interested in a life at sea.
“So you want to become a tar?” Capt. Milbourne said. “I’ve always thought I’d live and die at sea, but it now appears God has other plans.”
Captain Burleigh expressed surprised. “Last night you hadn’t decided. What persuaded you to become a colonist?”
The direction of the conversation piqued Winthrop’s interest. Drew was uncertain has to whether Winthrop recognized him from the secret meeting in Edenford, but the newly appointed governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony hadn’t said anything during the breakfast. He seemed preoccupied. Now that they were talking about the colonies, he showed greater interest.
“Perhaps your future lies in the colonies as well, Master Morgan,” Winthrop said.
Milbourne seized on the idea. “We already have a full complement of seamen, fifty-two to be exact,” he said. “But there’s always a place on my ship for the grandson of Amos Morgan. As for the settlement, you’ll have to take that up with Winthrop. Once on land, he’s in charge.”
As the breakfast broke up, Drew watched as the captains said their goodbyes. The other guests had already departed.
“Before I take my leave, Burleigh said, “I fear I have unfortunate news.”
He spoke in a low voice.
Should Drew leave? He looked for some sort of signal from either captain. There was none.
“From the navy,” Burleigh continued. “Reports are, the Dunkirkers have ten sails in the channel, preying on English ships. They boarded the Warwick fourteen days ago. She came alone out of the Downs and has not been heard of since. She was a pretty ship too—eighty ton, only ten pieces of ordnance.”
“The captain?” Milbourne asked.
“Mason.”
“Good man.”
Milbourne thanked his friend for the report.
“Watch the horizon and stick together,” Burleigh advised.
Drew accompanied Captain Burleigh to Yarmouth Castle to collect his things. As their skiff pulled away from the ship, Captain Milbourne gave the old seaman a four-shot out of the forecastle for a farewell.
When Drew returned to the Arbella a few hours later, he was taken directly to the captain’s cabin.
An unsmiling Captain Milbourne greeted him.
In Drew’s absence, Winthrop had spoken to the captain advising him of Drew’s past activities, the ones culminating in Christopher Matthews’ execution. Apparently a young woman had approached Winthrop and voiced her objection to Drew being on board.
“Morgan, I make it a point not to ask my men about their past,” the captain said. “Most of them have a past they’d rather forget. I don’t care about politics and religion and Puritans and cavaliers. All I care about is this ship.”
He stared hard at Drew, studying him like he would a weather chart, looking for squalls and ill winds.
Finally, he said, “Out of respect for your grandfather, if Winthrop has no objections, I’ll sign you on for the crossing. You’ll find him in his cabin; then, come tell me what he says.”
John Winthrop was writing in his journal when Drew knocked. Master Winthrop listened intently as Drew described the events in Edenford that led to Christopher Matthews’ death.
Winthrop said, “David Cooper told me how it was your plan that made good their escape.”
“Is his family on board the Arbella too?”
“They’re on the Talbot,” Winthrop said. “When the decision was made to flee Edenford, Cooper was concerned for the safety of Matthews’ daughters, and rightly so. He sent them to me. They’re the only residents of Edenford aboard this ship.”
Drew’s heart was racing at the thought of being so close to Nell and Jenny again.
“What can I do to convince you that I’m sincere in my desire to join you in your expedition?” Drew asked.
Winthrop ran a thin finger down his long, straight nose as he pondered the question. He seemed to be wavering.
Speak up, or be quiet? Drew couldn’t decide. Was it better to press his point, or would he ruin his chances if it appeared he was trying too hard?
“One of the last sermons Christopher Matthews preached in Edenford,” Drew blurted, “was of the time Moses lead the people of Israel to the edge of the Promised Land. This was shortly before you arrived. I believe he had already decided to lead the town to the New World. But, like Moses, his task was to take them to the edge of the Promised Land, not to enter it himself. When he commissioned me to complete his work, at first I thought it was to simply to fulfill his task. But Moses remained behind alone, didn’t he? I believe now he intended me to enter the Promised Land with the faithful.”
Winthrop mulled this for a time.
“When I was a boy,” he said, leaning back in his chair, a faraway look in his eyes, “I had little interest in religion. I was full of wickedness. At about age twelve I read some religious books and grew concerned about my wickedness. Afterward I wasn’t as bad as before, but I was still wicked. In my middle teens when I was at Cambridge University, I became quite ill. I was far from home, isolated from everyone, and I turned to God. But that lasted only until I got better. Then, at age eighteen, not long after I got married, I came under the influence of Rev. Ezekiel Culverwell. Now there was a man of God, a great Puritan preacher. He was suspended for a time for not wearing a surplice.
“Then I read the writing of William Perkins, which unsettled me. He convinced me that reprobates could do as much as I had done for God. His writings taught me that I had no occasion at all to consider myself saved. For a long time I remained very devout, but still very uncomfortable with my faith.”
Winthrop closed his eyes and, for a moment, retreated to that time.
“Finally,” he said, “at age thirty, I began to have a greater understanding of my complete unworthiness. My education, my family wealth, my relationships were nothing. I was plunged to the depth of despair. And from this depth I was lifted up. And every promise I thought upon held forth Christ unto me, saying, ‘I am thy salvation.’ At that moment, a new man quickened in me.”
An aura of holiness filled the cabin as Winthrop spoke openly about private thoughts and feelings. This was not casual conversation between two men; nor was it a meeting of minds; the flame of one man’s spirit quickened another man’s spirit, and both were strangely warmed by the exchange.
“For me,” Winthrop said, “it was Ezekiel Culverwell. For you, Christopher Matthews. And by God’s grace through the ministry of these two men, we have been brought to this time and place. Who am I to stand in the way of a man who is seeking God’s will for his life?”
The captain received the news of Winthrop’s decision without expression.
“It will be a long voyage,” he said. “If we get along well together, it will be a pleasant voyage; if we don’t, this ship can be hell afloat. Your responsibilities are simple: Obey your orders and do your duty. That’s all I’ve got to say. Go below to the seamen’s quarters and report to Mr. Prudden.”
The following day the Reverend John Cotton, a friend of Winthrop, came aboard the Arbella to preach a sermon to the colonists. The sermon, God’s Promise to His Plantation, was based on 2 Samuel 7:10: “Also I will appoint a place for my people Israel, and will plant it, that they may dwell in a place of their own, and move no more.”
Cotton emphasized the parallel between the Puritans and God’s chosen people, claiming that it was God’s will that they should inhabit the New World.
He asked the question, “But how shall I know whether God has appointed me such a place?”
Answering his own question, he said, “When there be evils to be avoided that may warrant removal: First, when some grievous sins overspread a country that threaten desolation. Second, if men be overburdened with debts and miseries. Third, in case of persecution.
“This may teach us all where we do now dwell or where after we may dwell. Be sure you look at every place appointed to you, from the hand of God … but we must discern how God appoints us this place. There is poor comfort in sitting down in any place that you cannot say, ‘This place is appointed me of God.’ Can you say that God spied out this place for you, and there has settled you above all hindrances? Did you find that God made room for you either by lawful descent, or purchase, or gift, or other warrantable right? Why, then, this is the place God has appointed for you. Here He has made room for you.”
While Drew did his best to listen to the sermon, the view of Nell and Jenny Matthews on the far side of the deck distracted him mightily. Jenny would glance at him occasionally. Nell never did. In fact, during the entire sermon Nell seldom looked up at all. She didn’t appear to be feeling well.
Following the sermon Drew made his way through the worshippers to where Nell and Jenny had been sitting. Before he was able to reach them, two women assisted Nell below deck. When she saw Drew coming, Jenny stayed on deck. She threw her arms around him.
“Oh Drew, thank God you’re safe!” she cried. “I would have told you we were leaving Edenford if given the chance. But Nell and Mr. Cooper kept it from me until the moment we were leaving. In truth, I never would have left Edenford without saying goodbye.”
“I know,” he said. “You were the only one who believed in me. I’ll never forget that.”
“I still believe in you, Master Morgan,” she said, lowering her eyes.
They became aware that they were attracting stares. Reluctantly, they released each other and stood a respectable distance apart.
“Is Nell ill?” Drew asked.
“Ever since we left Edenford,” Jenny replied. “At first we thought it was from anxiety and lack of sleep, but now we don’t know. She hardly has any strength and spends most days in bed.”
“I’ll pray for her,” Drew said.
Jenny stood opposite him and beamed.
“Did I say something wrong?” Drew asked.
“No. It’s just so good to hear you speak like that…like Poppa,” she said. “You’ve changed since we first met you. You’re more confident, more mature.” She blushed. “It’s attractive.”
At six o’clock in the morning on April 8, the wind rose from the east and north. A hoarse boatswain called—
“Aaaaalllll haaaannnds! Up anchor, ahoy!”
His cry sent the entire crew into motion. Sails were loosed, the yards braced, and the anchor was heaved up from the depths of the harbor.
The captain walked the deck, barking orders, many of them unintelligible to Drew; others he heard clearly but had no idea how to respond. Not so with the other sailors. For them, the captain’s orders were immediately executed at a furious pace with a strange mixture of counter-cries. In a few minutes the Arbella was under way. Drew could hear the noise of the water as the vessel leaned in response to the early morning breeze and headed for the narrow part of the channel called the Needles.
Because the wind was light, not all the ships were able to make it through the passage before the tide changed. While the Arbella was one of the ships that made it out, soon after the wind died and the ship was becalmed three or four leagues from the Needles. That was ten o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t until ten o’clock at night that the wind stirred again from the north, this time a good gale. The ship weighed anchor again and sailed through the night.
By daylight they lay off the coast of Portland.
“Aaaaalllll haaaandddss! Prepare for battle!”
Eight sails bobbed in the distance off the stern of the ship. Supposing they were Dunkirkers, the captain ordered the gun room and gun decks to be cleared. All the hammocks were taken down, the ordnance loaded, and the powder chests made ready. Since this was where the landsmen were quartered, they were moved in with the seamen temporarily.
Twenty-five men, including Drew, were armed with muskets.
With a steady wind from the north, the eight unidentified ships proceeded toward the Arbella. They were closing the gap between the ships. By now the captain was convinced they were Dunkirkers.
The captain ordered a ball of wildfire fastened to an arrow out of a crossbow shot off the port side. A test. He’d never used wildfire before. It burned in the water a good time. Should it become necessary, it would make a good weapon.
The women and children were removed to the lower deck to keep them out of danger. Once preparations were complete, the men on the upper deck went to prayer.
It was encouraging to see how cheerful this made the company. No one showed fear, though they were fully aware of the danger, which was significant.
The least of the Dunkirkers’ ships were reported to carry thirty brass pieces. The men of the Arbella were putting their trust in the Lord of Hosts.
That, and the courage of the captain, gave the colonists peace and calm.
At about one o’clock, the pursuing ships had closed to within a league of the Arbella. To show he was not afraid of them, Captain Milbourne tacked the ship about to face them. Should they choose to attack, he thought it best to settle the issue before night overtook them.
Drew and the other men with muskets lined the sides of the ship and prepared to open fire.
Then, as the pursuing ships came into range, they were identified as friends, not Dunkirkers at all. One ship was Dutch, another French, and three of them were English. All were bound for Canada and Newfoundland.
When they drew near, the ships saluted one another. To everyone’s relief, fear and danger turned into mirth and entertainment.
The next day they passed the Isles of Scilly and sailed into the open sea.
Drew descended the steps to the seamen’s quarters. Now that they were out of the channel, sailing took on a whole new feel, and he began to experience the discomforts of a seaman’s life.
He was exhausted. The day began early with a stiff gale north by west. The heavy sea beat against the bow of the ship with the sound and force of a blacksmith’s hammer. Waves flew over the deck, drenching Drew and the other sailors. The topsail halyards had been let go and the great sails filled out; the wind whistled through the rigging; loose ropes flew about; men shouted orders and screamed replies as the Arbella plowed its way through the sea to the New World. Behind them followed the Talbot, the Ambrose, and the Jewel. Drew was beginning to realize that a sailor’s life was not nearly as romantic as his grandfather had made it seem.
His legs were still unsteady. One sailor told him it would take at least three days before he got his sea legs. Drew entered the steerage where he would bunk and found it filled with coils of rigging, spare sails, old junk, and ship stores that had not been put away. Everything had fallen together from the rolling of the ship. Drew’s clothes, Bible, and minimal personal belongings were in there somewhere, probably at the bottom. Drew thought of the old sailor’s adage, “Everything on top, nothing at hand.”
There were no berths and there was no light, except that which managed to filter through the hatch. He would be allowed four hours of sleep and then would be called for his first watch. Drew fell onto a sail and closed his eyes. From sheer exhaustion, he expected to be asleep instantly, but he wasn’t. Just as he began to drift off, the initial symptoms of seasickness woke him rudely. For four hours he fought the alternating waves of slumber and nausea, as the ship rolled from side to side and the smells of the unsettled bilge water filled the steerage. Twice he ran to the deck and leaned over the leeward side to empty himself.
It was a wet, cold, exhausted sailor who gladly took his first watch on deck. At least the air was fresh, but the sloshing of his stomach made the waves seem calm in comparison.
He wasn’t alone in his suffering. Seasickness put the entire party out of sorts, so much so that there were no sermons on the first Sunday.
The next day was fair weather and those who were sick and groaning in their cabins were brought on deck. A rope was stretched from the steerage to the mainmast, and they were made to stand holding on to the rope. The warmth of the sun and the fresh air revived them so that most were soon feeling well and merry.
One of Drew’s chores was to slush the mainmast. He climbed the mast and sloshed a generous coating of grease from a bucket while rocking back and forth in extreme arcs to the movement of the ship.
From his vantage point high above the deck he watched as Jenny brought Nell on deck and led her to the rope. She shuffled slowly, her right arm bent across her waist. She leaned heavily on Jenny. Her hand was unable to keep a grip on the rope; it would rest on top of it, then fall off. Jenny would place the hand on the rope again, and a moment later it would fall off.
While the others smiled and told each other how much better they were feeling, Jenny led an weak Nell back to the women’s cabin.
“No!” Captain Milbourne shouted in response to Drew’s third request to see Nell. “It would invite trouble, and I’ll not have it on my ship! Good heavens, man, she’s the one who didn’t want you on this ship in the first place!”
“I only want to pray for her,” Drew said.
“God can hear your prayers from the steerage,” said the captain. Seeing the disappointment in Drew’s face, he said, “Look, lad, take my advice. There are plenty of women on board. There are more in the colonies. Why make yourself miserable over the one woman who doesn’t want you? Let her go. Someone else will come along.”
The call for the change in watch could be heard on deck.
“That’s me,” Drew said. “Thank you, sir, for your advice.”
Drew emerged on deck. The sea was calm and there was a light breeze, barely enough to drive the ship. They had made little headway that day. It was eleven o’clock at night, and three other sailors were sharing his watch topside. One stood alone near the bow of the ship; the other two were at the stern.
Drew walked to the starboard side and looked north. The sky was dark and clear—the stars shone brightly, as did the moon, which was much smaller than he had ever seen it in England. The wind was brisk, as it had been the entire journey; everyone wore winter clothing.
“Good evening, sir.”
The voice startled Drew.
He swung in the direction of the soft voice.
Jenny.
She giggled, pleased that she had startled him
“Jenny! What are you doing up here?”
She pulled the shawl she was wearing tighter around her shoulders.
“I was going to tell you I couldn’t sleep, but that’s not the truth.”
Drew’s response was a puzzled look.
“In truth, I asked one of the sailors when you stood watch. It was the only way we could be alone.”
He looked at her soft features, highlighted by the gentle glow of the moon. The lesser lights of the sky reflected in her blue eyes. The corners of her mouth turned upward slightly, creating shallow dimples.
Maybe it was the loneliness he’d been feeling. Maybe it was the fact that she accepted him when others doubted. Standing before him was a woman who didn’t reject him, who plotted to be alone with him.
He felt an urge to take her in his arms and smother her with the love he had been holding in for months, holding for someone who wanted nothing to do with him. Only with great effort was he able to restrain himself.
He looked down at his feet. He had to. If he looked at her any longer, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
“I’m glad you came,” he said. “How’s Nell?”
Her sister’s invisible presence stood between them. Jenny tried not to let it bother her, but it did. Her lower lip protruded. She turned toward the sea and leaned against the railing.
“Every day she’s worse,” Jenny said. “I’m really worried about her.”
She blinked back tears as she looked out over the moonlit swells.
For Nell or from disappointment?
“I was thirteen when Momma died,” she said. “Nell’s symptoms are similar. She’s just wasting away, she has no energy, she barely breathes, and sometimes doesn’t recognize me. Drew, I’m scared.”
Drew put his arm around her. She turned and moved into him, burying her head against his chest.
He looked checked the watchmen on the stern. They were in animated discussion, oblivious to the fact that Drew was embracing a woman while on watch.
Jenny lifted her head.
Drew wiped tears from her cheeks.
She placed her hands on his forearms and raised herself slowly toward him. Tilting her head slightly, she brushed her lips against his, pulled away, then brushed against him again.
Drew’s fingers followed the curve of her head, caressing her long brown hair as he pulled her to him. Her lips were soft and hot with tears. Jenny’s arms encircled him as she stood on her toes and eagerly leaned into him.
“I love you,” she whispered between kisses. “From the moment I saw you, Drew Morgan, I knew I would always love you.”
A voice in Drew’s head told him to stop before it went any further, but he wasn’t listening. He desired Jenny. She was warm, full of life, and she loved him. She loved him!
I could bring myself to love her, couldn’t I? The captain’s right. What sense does it make to love with a woman who doesn’t love me? Why can’t I just accept the truth? Nell will never love me; Jenny does.
But it felt wrong.
Drew gently pulled away.
Jenny’s eyes remained closed and her head tilted upward, eager for more.
“I’m on watch,” he said. “If anyone sees us, I could get in trouble.”
She opened her eyes.
Drew held her hands in his. She was so beautiful.
I’m such a fool!
He said, “I asked the captain if I could go below and see Nell. He refused. I don’t know what good it would do, anyway. Unless seeing me would make her so mad her blood would boil and kill the disease.”
Jenny laughed.
“I could sneak you down right now. Everyone’s asleep.”
Drew shook his head. “Too risky. If I was caught away from my post, I could be sentenced to death.”
“When do you get off duty?”
“Four in the morning.”
“Come below. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“ You need your sleep.”
Jenny smiled her pixie smile.
“I won’t be sleeping tonight.”
“I’ll come as soon as I can.”
Drew was relieved of his watch promptly at four o’clock.
He stretched and walked sleepily toward the hatch, but instead of going to his bunk, he moved toward the women’s area.
Jenny was waiting for him. She took him by the hand. While he was waiting for his eyes to adjust she rose up on her toes and kissed him.
With a playful shrug and silent giggle, she pulled him by the hand across the room to the corner bunk. They had to choose their footing carefully—the cabin was crowded with sleeping women and children, many of them on the floor.
Jenny and Drew knelt beside Nell’s bed. Her cheeks were hollow, and a sheen of perspiration covered her face. She was motionless. Drew could barely detect her breathing. It hurt him to see her like this. She was so still and vulnerable. He couldn’t help but feel a measure of responsibility for her condition. If it weren’t for him, she would be sitting in front of the window on High Street, crafting lace for the insatiable Lord Chesterfield or applying her sharp wit and wisdom to paper, hoping to change the world. Instead, she lay before him dying.
“What are you doing in here?” the woman in the bunk who shared Nell’s corner was up on one elbow.
Her free hand pulled a blanket to her chin. Drew recognized her as the woman at the breakfast table, his first day aboard ship.
“I’m calling the captain!” she said.
“Please don’t, Lady Arbella!” Jenny pleaded. “He’s a friend. I brought him down here to pray for my sister.”
Lady Arbella studied Drew. She seemed to note that he was on his knees.
“You may call the captain if you wish,” Drew said, “but Jenny is telling the truth. I’ve come to pray for Nell.”
Lady Arbella didn’t soften. But she did concede.
“All right, then. Pray.”
Drew folded his hands, resting his arms against the side of the bed.
“Dear God,” he said, “I’ve not very experienced at praying to You, but please don’t hold my inexperience against me. We need Your help. I know I have no right to ask You for favors, especially when it comes to Nell. But I’m going to ask anyway, because there’s nothing else I can do. Dear Lord, please heal her. She lies here because of my sin, not hers. All her life she has served You. She has taught children about You. She has read the Bible and prayed and lived a holy life. She has risked her life trying to help her country see that it’s wandered away from Your ways. She doesn’t deserve to die. I do. If someone must have it, give me her disease. I’d gladly die so that she might live. Please let her live. Please. Amen.”
Drew lingered a few moments before raising his head.
“Dear God in heaven,” Lady Arbella prayed, “please answer this young man’s prayer and heal Nell Matthews.”
Drew looked at her. “Thank you,” he said.
He took one more long look at Nell before rising to his feet.
Carefully he picked his footsteps leading toward the hatch. What he didn’t see was a small hand partially covered by a blanket. When he stepped down, a child’s scream split the silence.
Drew froze as every woman in the cabin bolted up and glared at him.
The captain sentenced Drew to twenty lashes.
He was openly whipped, put in bolts for a night, and given nothing but bread and water. Lady Arbella had argued in his defense, but to no avail. It didn’t matter why he was in the women’s cabin. Drew Morgan had directly disobeyed the captain, and for that he had to be punished.
Drew had never known such physical pain before; his back was a mess of red-ribboned flesh. But the thing that hurt him even more was the realization that Nell’s condition wasn’t improving. The amount of time she was awake and responsive grew less every day. It seemed as if God had turned a deaf ear to his prayer.
On Tuesday, May 24, the captain steered the ship away from the wind, allowing the sails to luff so that the mizzen shrouds could be straightened. The Jewel and the Ambrose approached to inquire if anything was amiss. They were relieved to hear nothing was wrong.
Their maneuver gave the ships an opportunity to pass news back and forth. The company aboard the Jewel was in good health; but aboard the Ambrose two passengers had died.
The passengers that died had the same symptoms as Nell Matthews.
When the first sounding was made on May 31, there were two men in foul moods aboard the Arbella—Captain Peter Milbourne and Drew Morgan. The captain was irritated that the sounding had no ground. But that was just a prick that aggravated a deeper wound.
They had lost sight of the Talbot during the storm of April 21 and, despite several attempts, had not seen her since. The three remaining ships held course, but Captain Milbourne had left England with four ships and wanted to arrive with four. Drew shared his concern but for different reasons.
The Talbot carried the Cooper family and most of the Edenford residents. Why would God help them escape from Edenford only to lead them to a watery grave? Is that the way God rewarded those who were faithful to Him?
And what about Nell? Her illness continued to exact its toll from her. According to reports from Jenny, she was nothing more than skin wrapped around bones. Drew didn’t cease to pray for her, but his prayers were angry.
On Wednesday, June 2, the captain changed sails. He was sure they were near the northern coast, and knowing that the southern coast had dangerous shoals, he refitted the mainmast with a strong double mainsail. He didn’t want to risk having old sails rip as he approached the rocky coast.
On Thursday morning, June 3, the captain ordered another sounding. No ground. A heavy fog and thick rain enveloped the ships.
At two in the afternoon he ordered another sounding. Ground was struck at eighty fathoms. It was a fine gray sand. The captain changed tack and fired a piece of ordnance to give notice to the other ships.
Friday, June 4. About four in the morning the Arbella tacked again. The fog was so thick they couldn’t see more than a stone’s throw. The captain ordered a sounding every two hours, but they had no ground.
Saturday, June 5. The fog dispersed and a handsome gale came from northeast, bringing rain with it. That night the captain ordered a sounding every half watch, but had no ground.
Sunday, June 6. God answered the colonists’ prayers. Although it was still foggy and cold, a sounding was made at two o’clock in the afternoon. It had ground at eight fathoms. The mist began to break up, and they saw shore to the north, about five or six leagues off. The captain supposed it to be Cape Sable.
Monday, June 7. A sounding at four o’clock revealed ground at thirty fathoms. Being a calm day, the captain suggested they do some fishing. In less than two hours, they took aboard sixty-seven codfish, most of them over a yard-and-a-half long and a yard in circumference. It was a timely catch; the store of salt fish on board was spent. The hungry colonists feasted on fish.
Tuesday, June 8. The weather was still cold. By three in the afternoon, land was sighted again. It proved to be Mount Mansell. A pleasant sweet air met them from the shore, a refreshing wind that some likened to the smell of a garden. Like Noah’s ark, God sent the colonists a sign of His favor in the form of a wild pigeon that lit on the ship.
Wednesday, June 9. The mainland lay off the starboard side all day. It was a land of many hills.
Thursday, June 10. The ship lost sight of land, regained it, then lost it again. About four in the afternoon, land was sighted again off the starboard bow. It was a ridge of three hills called Three Turks’ Heads. Toward night, trees could be seen plainly.
Friday, June 11. Cape Ann was sighted. A ship was anchored near the Isles of Shoals. Five or six fishing shallops sailed along the coast.
Saturday, June 12. The Arbella was near port by four in the morning. The captain shot off two pieces of ordnance to signal their arrival. They passed through the narrow strait between Baker’s Isle and Little Isle and came to anchor.
At two o’clock in the afternoon, John Endecott, the governor of Salem, along with Mr. Skelton, the pastor, and Captain Levett, came aboard to welcome the colonists to Massachusetts Bay.