The women of the Mayflower and women of Plymouth colony

by Ethel J. R. C. Noyes

The storm increases and all doubt not that their end is approaching, since the ship is giving way, but this crisis passes, by the energies of the captain and crew and the aid of an iron screw, or jack, which was brought by a passenger from Leyden. That screw was the instrument which saved the Mayflower, and we know not the owner—whose name seems of more interest to us than it did to them to whom the screw was the thing.

Another day brings a blow to Doctor Fuller and to all, since one of their own company is summoned by death, the young assistant to the doctor, William Button. Many begin to show the effects of the dreary weeks on the ship and look worn, weary and ill.

At last, at last, in a November dawn, land is in sight! A day spent in running southward looking for a favorable harbor, but none appearing, they turn about and return to the point of land first seen, and by nightfall are safely riding at anchor.

With the episode immediately following, the women had no actual connection, yet to some we know it was of interest, as their husbands signed the document drawn up in the cabin, and because of it Katherine Carver was made the “first lady” of the little group of friends, since her husband was then duly elected governor of this colonial company. More love, more respect, they could not give her as their governor’s wife than they had always given her as just one of themselves—tested and trained as all had been together in the years of friendship amid all the shades of mutual experience.

The next day new life and animation was evident among all on board the Mayflower. Hope flung aside the grey veils that had almost enveloped her for many weeks and stood in the radiant garments of expectancy—they would not recognize the vagueness, the emptiness of her background. They had been brought across the sea in safety—they were about to disembark on the solid ground of their new country. Ambition stirred the weakest to prove the wisdom of their choice.

In the cabin of the Mayflower, next day, their Elder led them in prayer and hymns of thankfulness. Around were those who had listened to him in the old hall at Scrooby Manor, and others who, since then, had made his way their way through life. We may easily picture, again, Mary, his devoted wife, seated in the old chair (which, at least, we may see actually), her gentle, anxious face silhouetted against the grim old cabin walls of the Mayflower, as lovely to her friends who looked at her that day, as when its fairness had as a background her old home in the stately manor in England. All who were able were at this service, on what, for them, was Expectation Sunday, (though some were too weak and ill to leave their berths), and afterwards, walked on the decks looking at the new, mysterious land before them—recognizing various familiar trees, growing almost to the water’s edge, and accepting the attention of the surprised but welcoming sea-gulls. The little pool, across a stretch of nearby beach, partly surrounded by juniper trees, attracted the eyes of the women with delight at prospect, if tomorrow was fair, for a grand and general wash day, with plenty of water, instead of the restricted supply that had had to suffice them for more than a hundred days’ effort at cleanliness.

The cold, foggy morning of the 23rd of November witnessed much energy among the company on the ship, riding at anchor in its lonely harbor. Small boats brought many of the women ashore with kettles and big bundles,—the first time that they set foot on the soil of their new country—and Monday wash day was established. The men who were not employed repairing the small boat, or shallop, which had been stored in the hold of the Mayflower, and which they wished to use for exploration as soon as possible, cut the fragrant cedars or junipers about the pool, made cheerful, pungent fires, and swung the kettles for the boiling water. Some, no doubt, looked on it as quite a picnic, with lunch served by the fire, and the whole thing a change from the life of the past weeks.

The dusk saw the footprints of many English women marking for the first time that sea-washed shore, and the ashes of the first fires of civilized life, (with women as an important half of that life), mingling with the sands. The women went “home” to the ship, with contentment in their minds, but wet, cold and tired. Small wonder that colds became evident next day—with little vitality left to resist them. Misery had plenty of company.

Another day and the anxious wives whose husbands made up the first exploring party watched them row away in the ship’s long boat, land and march along the shore, out of sight, under the watchful lead of Captain Myles Standish.

Through the two days and nights of their absence, knowing not what dangers or disasters might befall them, we can never doubt that the secret prayers of Rose Standish unceasingly appealed for the safe return of her husband and the husbands of the other women, her dear friends, for whom he was responsible. And not her’s only we know were answered, when, on the third morning, the welcome sound of guns from shore, signaling the long boat, relieved the tension on the ship. What rejoicing, interest and even amusement was the result of their safe arrival, with curious trophies of their first land journey and descriptions of what they had seen and done.