About six weeks after their marriage, Susanna Winslow bade her husband the first of the many farewells she would experience in the coming days, because of his frequent journeys in the cause of the colony. He was now to seek the great Indian chief, Massasoit, with whom the treaty had been made, a few months before, and the governor had selected him and Stephen Hopkins for this necessary visit. The walk through the woods was long and tiresome and consumed more than a week, but the object of their journey was accomplished. Susanna Winslow and Elizabeth Hopkins, awaiting in some natural anxiety at home for their return, or news of them, must have been somewhat startled the day the governor sent them the message he had just received by an Indian runner, that their husbands were nearly starving and struggling homeward, exhausted. These two wives hastily despatched food by the Indian, to meet them at a certain place, and had an abundant supper in readiness on the rainy evening of their return.
Soon after this, the upsetting occurrence of a lost child came upon them, and Eleanor Billington had the sympathy of the mothers because one of her boys had been too venturesome in the woods and strayed away. He was found by the Indians miles from Plymouth and word being brought of this, the governor sent a boat to the place of the Indian encampment which brought the boy back, no worse for his adventure, so this excitement passed. Expeditions among the Indians became necessary, both of forceful and peaceful intent, which made recurring anxiety for the women, until the men had safely returned.
At the close of the summer, once again sorrow filled their hearts, as one more of their number went from the friends who loved her. It was the only happiness left for Katherine Carver to follow her husband out of this world, which no longer contained anything of interest to her and the future no hope strong enough to relieve her broken heart. So, lovely and lamented, she was laid to rest on the hill by the shore, where so many others of their brave and fair were sleeping. This left but two of the married women who had left Leyden together: Mary Brewster and Susanna Winslow. But the number of the girls remained complete.
The first anniversary of their sailing from old Plymouth, came and went. The survivors of that day’s company on the ship must have observed it with many thoughts. These September days were busy ones, indeed, as preparations to meet the coming winter began. Their Spring planting had been successful in all except peas, and their harvest of corn was abundant. The wild grapes were made into wine, the corn pounded into meal, each household a veritable hive of workers; while the wear and tear on their clothes must be repaired and new garments made, or purchased when strictly necessary, from the supply stored in the Common House.
But an interval occurred in this routine and it may be introduced to us by a picture of the living-room in the Brewster house, by candle light, which contains all the women of the colony in earnest discussion. This conclave is caused by the recent suggestion of the governor that in view of the fact of their successful harvest, and renewed health, a period of recreation should be planned and enjoyed by all; games, feasting, mirth and frolic, a combination of festivities of both England and Holland with which they were familiar, and not only were preparations to be for themselves but for guests—Chief Massasoit and many of his warriors were to be invited, with no doubt at all of their acceptance. Many of the men had been hunting that day to provide the game, and the results were enough to last a week. It was not questions of what to provide, but how much of everything would be needed, and which of them would prepare and roast the wild turkeys, who boil the fish, who make sauces and side dishes or cook vegetables, who bake, who make the salads, and all the other necessary plans for cooks who are hostesses, and hostesses who are cooks. The problem has a familiar appearance to many of us in our own day. Favorite receipts were compared, and whoever excelled in a certain thing was to have charge of that supply. All were good cooks so it was a case of friendly emulation and rivalry in this novel experience, with which each housekeeper retired that night, after they had talked and planned to their satisfaction. More than a hundred to be provided for over a three day period, and eleven women and young girls to see it through; even the littlest girls, Remember and Mary Allerton and Damaris Hopkins had to help, and of course the men did their share in keeping the great fires burning and dressing the game, and the boys in carrying water from the brook. Every iron kettle, every long and short legged pot and pan, every wooden bowl and leathern bottle, every pewter dish, with hooks, spits and trivets were in use; wooden cups or gourds to drink from, and knives and napkins. The only forks were the long-handled iron ones for cooking purposes, their use for the table was not known, their service was supplied by napkins and spoons.
The Indians arrived and encamped around the street, thoughtfully bringing a large supply of venison to add to the bill of fare. The cooks and waitresses in whitest of linen caps, kerchiefs and aprons, with short woolen skirts and buckled shoes, had many steps to take to serve the banqueters seated at the great tables erected in front of the houses; and when the men were having their contests of shooting or games, they cleared away or looked on at the entertainment as they could. They and the children, in sampling the products of their cooking or taking a mouthful, now and then, were kept from being hungry in the midst of plenty by being too busy to eat.
The long shadows of the third day saw the end of the event. And was the first American “block party” a success? We may say that it was. And were the women tired? We will agree to that also. But the men were pleased, the children happy, and one recovers quickly from the fatigue of gratifying achievement. Thus was their public thanksgiving celebrated, by order of the governor.
On a November day some weeks later, household tasks were going as usual; many of the men were gathering the last of the harvest, others getting in the winter’s supply of wood. We may see Mistress Brewster in her kitchen distilling herbs and witch-hazel for domestic medicines, as was the custom of each housewife, that Dr. Fuller’s supply might not be too freely drained. She has the help and company of Mary Chilton this afternoon—both unconscious of any special interest that the day may bring to them especially, before its close, yet the unexpected was as often happening then as now. Priscilla and Elizabeth had taken Desire Minter on a search for more sassafras, hoping to entertain and amuse the listless girl, who, since Mrs. Carver’s death, seemed to grow each day more unhappy. The two Marys are talking of the return voyage of the Mayflower—how long it might have been or how short—and if their friends in England and Holland had received the many letters and messages taken back by the Captain. Suddenly they are startled by the sound of the gun from the fort! Another shot! They are in the street now and likewise every woman and child—it is the signal for assembly—and the men may be seen hurrying from the woods and fields. The Governor accompanied by the Captain and an Indian runner are rapidly descending the hill from the fort, both looking especially determined. The news is soon in possession of all. A ship has entered Cape Cod harbor—seen by the Indians and word brought at once to Plymouth! Surprise and suspense were but some of the feelings this news aroused. They had been seven months without sight or sound of the world beyond their little settlement and its woodland neighbors. It would have to be Spring before a friendly ship could be expected to find them (for newcomers could not live in comfort or be of use till then) and as England and France were on far from friendly terms, this might be a ship of the latter nationality, seeking them with hostile intent. But preparedness was ever their daily thought and ability to cope with any emergency. Thus the Captain’s little army of defense, twenty men, was soon marshalled and ready—none without a gun in hand—to protect their women, children and homes to the last man.
Mary Brewster sees her husband in the front rank, of course. He can fight as ardently as pray, if necessary, and while wishing that an enemy might be converted and enjoy life, if that were impossible, then no question of who should fire first. The Captain had no weaklings in his command, even the boys and younger men were heroes with such leaders. Their eyes sharpened by expectancy and uncertainty, soon discern the stranger’s sails, even as the lookout from the fort calls out the fact that it is in view. Intently they wait and watch, when, behold, before their astonished eyes, the flag of England is flung out in greeting! Relief and amazement run a race in their minds. The ship is smaller than the Speedwell. The first boat puts out, making straight for the men drawn up on the seashore. In their incredulity they can scarce recognize, can scarce believe, what they see: Robert Cushman grasping the hands of Brewster and Bradford; John Winslow seizing his brother Gilbert’s shoulders: Jonathan Brewster being sprung upon by his brothers, from the ranks, and then Thomas Prence just behind him.