The ship moves out from the wharf, the wind shakes the flag—their English flag—above them, token of their regained nationality. A volly of shot from shore and three guns fired from the ship echo over the watchers waving to each other as long as individuals may be distinguished, and longer. How eagerly the imagination pictures the scene. The Speedwell on that fair summer morning, sails into the unseen fog of disappointment and failure that shall prove her name a sad mistake. But for all on board of her “the fire of their faith lights the sea and the shore.”
So they leave forever, Holland, that refuge which for twelve years had sheltered them, that school wherein they have been shaped and prepared for the great enterprise before them. Their own country’s flag above them, their own little vessel to carry them once more to England, if only for a farewell. Thus the spirits of sadness and expectation attend them and of gratitude and hope.
The summer breezes blowing from England’s shores came out to meet the little ship and caressed the hair and cheeks of that group of England’s daughters who stood, drawing their long cloaks about them, on the deck of the Speedwell as it entered Southampton water. Once more, as so often in their dreams these past years, they behold their native land. An interlude of vision. Only two of them will ever return; for the rest it will remain a dream, a memory—for “Memory draws from delight ere it dies an essence that breathes of it many a year.”
An animated day this proves to be, with greetings from old friends and new acquaintances who have come in the ship from London to join them. The ship! They view it riding at anchor. Of its name or history few of them care. Yet what other ship has held more truly the form of fate for its passengers and of epoch for the world! But they could not know and it seemed then only their guide to cross the sea, their means of accomplishing the only way out of their difficulties.
A company of shrewd business men, as profiteering a syndicate as ever crushed the individual, had happened on this ship at the time they needed one of its size and accommodations for the enterprise they were planning to undertake in sending a homeless, well-nigh friendless, but dauntless company of men and women to colonize in America, chiefly on the money of these same people but supplemented by some of their own, and many directions, conditions and restrictions for their endeavors to which they had reluctantly to agree. King nor country cared, the merchants, their nominal backers, cared less than nothing for the personal success or good fortune of these voyagers, except only where advancement of their own selfish interests or claims for territorial advantage accrued and might be returned.
These two boat loads of pioneers regarded thus with indifference, may be viewed for a moment in contrast to that subsequent fleet of English ships carrying English passengers on whom all England from Crown to Commons looked with interest and in whom hope and pride were centered—the ships bearing colonists under the leadership of John Winthrop, to the same shores, ten years later, saluted by royal guns as they sailed away as voyagers whose adventure would reflect honor and renown to the kingdom, whose loss would be a disaster to the nation, while if either or both of these two unimportant ships with all on board had sunk at sea, as so nearly happened, the incident would not have seemed worth recording for a paragraph of history by the country, who treated these loving children with contempt and disdain. Nevertheless these brave pilgrims prepared the way for all others who later sought homes on the far shores of their intent and gave them aid and comfort by personal contact as well as by their example of unfaltering purpose. For their recompense to the merchants commercially interested in their adventure, the account shows them more than over-paid, at length. For their advantage to the country they left forever, since it did not understand them and did not want them, in long, long years from that day, perhaps the arrival of the first contingent of American destroyers in British waters, in the spring of 1917, to give a certain aid and comfort to England, may be accounted a return.
But thoughts like these were not in their minds as they are in ours. The ship from London, by name, Mayflower, was before them—an actuality, while for us it is a vision.
This vessel was twice the size of the little Speedwell and bore a popular and one of the oldest names for British ships. A predecessor of the name had in 1415 borne the flower of knighthood to France, to fight at Agincourt. Another had been flagship of the Duke of Gloucester. This Mayflower had already a noteworthy career, the equal, of any, as a warship. She had been a member of Queen Elizabeth’s fleet, contributed to it by a city guild, and took a brilliant and prominent part in the fights of the Spanish Armada to the final, desperate and victorious one. Nevertheless in spite of this, her name would not have gilded a page in history, but on the day she sailed from London for Southampton, equipped for a long voyage across the sea, destiny began to weave for her the wreath of fame. Not a large ship—120 or more tons—and about 82 feet long, but what other is greater? Which more inspiring to poets and artists? The true and accepted model of the Mayflower is on exhibition at the National Museum in Washington, this was made by Capt. J. W. Collins, an expert in naval architecture, by order of the United States Government.
At Southampton the companies of each ship mingled on shore and on shipboard while the vessels were being made ready for departure. The allotments to the respective ships, the designation of quarters in the ships, were necessarily made chiefly with regard to the needs and comfort of the women and children. The number of each was increased by the wife and family of Stephen Hopkins and of John Billington, also by four children named More. These children, three boys and a girl, were protegees of Mr. Weston, one of the merchants interested, and, having no apparent connection with any one of the company; just what reason he had for sending them on this voyage seems likely to remain an unanswered question. The loving natures of Mary Brewster, Katherine Carver and Elizabeth Winslow accepted them as their special charges, and Jasper was thereafter considered with the numerous and varied family of the Carvers, Ellen, with the Winslows, while Richard and his other brother, increased the Brewster’s number of boys. For only a short time were these children to know these new and kind friends. Another unexpected addition to their numbers was in the person of the young man of Southampton, John Alden by name, who joined their company, as cooper, for the sake of the voyage and adventure—but who remained as one of them for the sake of the love and admiration he gained for some in particular. Their business affairs being concluded, the Speedwell and Mayflower sailed from the harbor, but soon the Speedwell was found in a dangerous condition from leaks,—though she had been thoroughly overhauled after her trip from Holland. It was decided to put into the nearby port of Dartmouth, where a stay was made of ten days, at much cost to the pilgrims both in time and money. However, after this set-back, the ships sailed again and all had hopes of comfortable progress. Land’s End was behind them about a hundred leagues on the 23rd of August, when the Captain of the Speedwell again proclaimed that disaster to his ship was imminent. There was nothing else to do but turn both ships back to the nearest port. Plymouth welcomed them and kind-hearted people there tried to comfort and cheer the disappointed passengers. For some, these several returns to England began to affect their spirits as a portent or warning, but to others they but served to make stronger the desire to carry out their plans, in spite of discouragement, in spite of the charm of England’s summer days beside the sea, in spite of the bright and friendly town through whose massive gateways they had to pass to visit the busy streets and get their last glimpses of gay shops—sights which they realized they would never again see when they had emigrated to the new and lonely land. This acid test lasted fourteen days.