The women of the Mayflower and women of Plymouth colony

by Ethel J. R. C. Noyes

After a few days, their own shallop being repaired, another and larger party went away for discovery. Another safe return and tales of interest followed this. And news of importance awaited them, also—for they found the White family rejoicing in the arrival of a son and brother; Dr. Fuller and Mr. and Mrs. Edward Fuller in a new nephew, and Samuel in a cousin, in the little Pilgrim. Probably Oceanus Hopkins looked at his future playmate with interest, not unmixed with surprise that he was no longer the new baby of the Mayflower.

Before the next attempt to find the place most desirable for their permanent location, another event, far less cheerful, drew attention to the Whites. A young man in their employ, Edward Thompson, died, and thus became the first of the Mayflower passengers to be buried in American soil.

The following day, one of the Billington boys in search of diversion, finding a loaded gun in the cabin and a barrel of gunpowder, promptly shot it off then and there; his pleasure was short-lived, but those who were ill or much startled by the noise, probably did not care what happened to him. The jeopardy in which he placed the ship and every soul on board was doubtless beyond his comprehension. The restlessness of the small boys in those cramped quarters was one of the trials the mothers had to bear. Our sympathy is for both.

On the 16th of December, reckoning by the calendar as we know it, the third and, as it proved to be, the final and successful attempt at finding the place for their settlement was made. But while much happened to the exploring party, in the seven days of its absence, and while the thoughts of those left on the ship followed them, at all times, hearts were heaviest there, and gloom as great as that surrounding the storm-tossed shallop settled on the Mayflower. The moments were tense to the family of James Chilton, whose illness daily became more acute, and hope of his recovery faded in the hearts of his loving wife and daughter. Into the loving sympathy of their friends and their own deep sorrow, there entered a shock and excitement of stunning effect, when it was discovered that Dorothy Bradford was missing. Someone had seen her on deck—we see her, too—standing, in the sunset, wrapped in her long cape, looking over the water, alone.

We recall her as, years past, we saw her on another winter afternoon, in Amsterdam, standing with Patience Brewster on the banks of the canal, gay with skaters—the elder’s daughter, then, now the wife of one of the principal men of this company.

One who kept a record of those days wrote: “At anchor in Cape Cod harbor. This day Mistress Dorothy Bradford, wife of Master Bradford, who is away with the exploring party, to the westward, fell overboard and was drowned.” A woman of the Mayflower whose experience of the New World was destined to be brief—and never of Plymouth Colony—the one appointed to lead the way into a New Country for many of the women who sorrowed that night for her sudden going. That no further comment or record was made of this tragedy seems remarkable. Out of the silence conjectures arise, as will in such conditions, without form or foundation in truth as far as can ever be known.

Mr. Chilton died the next day—the first head of a family to be taken. The illness which was gradually affecting many of the company, grew out of the colds and run down condition they had reached. It seems like grip or influenza of our modern knowledge, with other complications; its fatality was appalling. Mary Chilton and her mother had need of the uplifting sympathy and companionship of such friends as Mary Brewster and Susanna White in the dark hours of their sorrow. Theirs was the first test of faith. The little family of three had expected to face the new life together, with whatsoever pleasure or privation it might bring, and to have the one taken for whom and with whom the other two had willingly ventured, strong in their love and determination to bear their part in the work which needed women’s hands to secure even a semblance of home, was crushing indeed. Yet these women, already proven brave, would now be braver still and rejoice in the safe return in the shallop of the other husbands and fathers who brought the good news of a satisfactory place to establish their settlement.

The enthusiasm of these men at the happy ending of their uncomfortable and dangerous journey was soon lessened by knowledge of the grievous and unexpected events which had happened while they were away.

We think it was Elder Brewster who gave the sad explanation to William Bradford as to why Dorothy was not with the cluster of women and girls who crowded so eagerly at the ship’s rail to catch first glimpse of their men as the discoverers returned. These men had lately seen and touched a rock, for them a stepping-stone, that day of exploration, to solid ground—they saw it not as the gateway of a mighty nation; a rock which had wandered to that place from far away; a traveller, a pilgrim who had waited long to welcome these pilgrims. They returned now to the rock of their community, William Brewster, keystone of the arch of their high aspirations, molder and guardian of the firm principles that other rock so fitly typified.

One more storm and struggle for the Mayflower on weighing anchor again, one more disappointing return to a harbor which she desired to leave, but after all a calm day’s sail across the bay and rest in that quiet harbor guarded by the lonely rock. Her work nobly performed, her name immortal, she had reached the goal.