Soldier Rigdale: How He Sailed in the Mayflower and How He Served Miles Standish

by Beulah Marie Dix

Miles shook his head and pressed the bag tighter beneath his arm; he could feel the cat's soft body writhing and struggling within. They brought him over to the gangway ladder, and, holding by one hand, he scrambled down it. How black the line of bulwarks looked against the lantern light, as the ship heaved upward! There he half slipped, when he felt some one catch him round the body, and he was dropped down on the stern seat of the little boat. Dolly pressed close to him, and, putting his arm round her, he held tight to her and to Solomon. They had turned the lantern now so the light flashed into the boat, and he realized it was Lister who sat upon the forward thwart, and the other man, who was standing up to push them off from the ship's side, was the sailor, Will Trevor.

At last they were clear, out on the wide, rough water, and, with a motion of spitting on his hands, Trevor dropped into his seat and gripped his oar. As the boat swung round, Miles had sight of the black bulk of the Mayflower, with a lantern gleaming on her high quarter-deck and another just receding from her gangway. Then, as the boat headed for the shore, he could see the ship only by turning his head, and that was too great an effort to make.

The thole-pins creaked, and the water slapped against the prow. The waves were running high, and, as the little boat leaped them, she seemed to throb through her frame. The oars and the sea that wrestled together made the only sound, for the rain that dropped steadily was a quiet rain, and the men who rowed for the most part kept silent. Once, to be sure, Trevor growled: "How're we heading, Ned?"

Miles noted dully how Lister rested on his oar and turned his face landward. "I can just make out a light," he answered. "Pest on this rain! More to larboard we must run."

For another space they tugged at the oars in silence, while Miles stared unheedingly into the dark, till suddenly Trevor called, "Hey, lad, what's wrong wi' thy bag?"

Solomon's struggles had loosed the fastenings, Miles found; he thrust the animal back and tied the strings again, slowly and stiffly, for his hands were cold and sore too, where they had been scratched.

"What sort o' luggage be ye travelling with?" Trevor asked, between strokes, in a tone that was so amused that Miles felt an angry shock: what right had the sailor to find any merriment in life, while Dolly was sobbing so? Next moment the anger passed, and instead, Miles wondered that Dolly should cry, for it was not true, whatever they had said; his father would surely come forth from the Common House to meet them, and he would look just as Miles had seen him on that last day.

Yonder beneath the black bluff shone a light. Miles could see it now, and he stared unthinkingly, till it grew larger and brighter, and then a sudden jar almost threw him from his seat. "I'll hold her steady," spoke Trevor. "Do thou get out the younkers, Ned."