The women of the Mayflower and women of Plymouth colony

by Ethel J. R. C. Noyes

Such confusion and laughter, such embraces and tears of joy as the women, realizing the situation, come running down the street to meet the crowd coming from the water’s edge.

And in another boat come two women, friends from Leyden, the widow Ford and her children and Mistress Basset. The relief of the newcomers was quite equal to that of the Plymouth people, but for a different reason. Not finding any signs of habitation in the first harbor of their search, they feared that all survivors had died or been killed by Indians, and as in their long voyage of four months they had consumed about all of their provisions, they feared starvation for themselves. All were in good health, with good appetites and spirits and as soon as their apprehension was dispelled, at sight of their friends and their plentiful supply of food, gaiety reigned. The problem of housing for these thirty-five newcomers was finally settled by nightfall, each housekeeper putting up with some crowding to take in several, and the Common House once more giving shelter. What welcome of friends and relatives, what interest at news from others, the ensuing hours saw; what joyful supper parties that evening!

Thus the isolation of Plymouth was broken. The sails of the Fortune had brought them once again the touch of the outside world.

By daylight, another young lady had joined the colony, and Martha Ford opened her eyes, on the first morning of her life, in Plymouth. Just why her mother should have come across the ocean at this time is not clear to us. She was a widow and evidently of some means to be able to bring all her children with her. We may suppose, without stretching the bounds of probability, that her husband had been preparing to bring his family to the new colony, and that, after his sudden death, she carried out the plans.

The Fortune remained two weeks, and lively weeks to get her well laden with the first exports of the colony, furs, lumber and sassafras making a rich invoice. Letters were written—letters of enthusiastic description; letters of encouragement to join the life of the New World; letters of advice, and letters replying to those received, for many words of sympathy had been sent in response to the dreary news brought back by the Mayflower. There was a particular letter from the governor (one of sympathy, also) to Mistress Alice Southworth, in London, since Robert Cushman brought the news of her recent widowhood.

Robert Cushman had come especially as emissary from the merchants who had underwritten the Pilgrims, and to see for himself in what condition they were, for report at home. He was so pleased with what he experienced, however, that he planned a permanent stay at a future day, and left his young son, who had accompanied him, with the governor.

So the Fortune was ready to sail, and by her departure, was to make one more break in the ranks of the women, since Desire Minter chose to go back in her, to her friends in England, under charge of Robert Cushman. Her health and spirits had so failed that it was considered the best thing for her; thus another blank was made in the life of Elizabeth Tilly, who had found in Desire a dear friend—and in whose heart she was never forgotten. Perhaps Desire already forsaw that her place would soon be taken and knew that she would leave little Elizabeth in good hands. As the Fortune sailed out of the harbor, we may see John Howland near Elizabeth with his protective look and ready, encouraging smile.

This little ship did not receive benefit from her name, for fortune proved unkind. A French man-of-war, lying near the coast of England, captured her and took all on board prisoners to a French island, where for more than a fortnight they were detained. However the ship and passengers were then released and reached England—but the valuable cargo and letters were spoils of war. So Alice Southworth never received the governor’s letter, but the fact of its having been sent was reported to her by her friend, Robert Cushman. Indeed the various items of news he brought were of interest to many.

But Desire, if she had only written of her experiences, or caused them to be written! Her experiences as a woman of the Mayflower, as a woman of Plymouth Colony, her experiences in leaving the latter for an English home—with her war adventure as an extra detail. What material she had and of what value for the world to read. She would have been a rival historian of Bradford and Winslow, for posterity. But of course such a thought never occurred to her. She was a woman—and a woman could not be independent in the society of that day, which was an exclusively masculine society and with a system by which feminine conduct was judged from a masculine point of view. About two hundred and fifty years elapsed before any other point of view was deemed possible. And Desire Minter was far from being the first of her sex to question. In due time word was brought to Plymouth that she had reached her friends, and, later on, that her brief, but not uneventful life was over. Somewhere English roses bloom o’er her grave; an interesting pilgrimage, if its location were known, as a remembrance of the first woman of the Mayflower and of Plymouth Colony to return to her early home.

Meanwhile, before Plymouth knew aught of what had happened to the Fortune, much happened there. While pleasure in the company of the newcomers lasted, supplies did not, and their bubble of joy was soon broken. The Fortune brought no food, and thirty-odd extra people, mostly men, to provide for, was a serious problem. So their second winter was a hard one to get through, with little to eat—half rations only—and resultant weakness (though fortunately no sickness) scarce enabled them to improve their condition. Nevertheless, owing to the threatening attitude of some of the distant Indians, a protecting wall of lumber was built around the town. The street ran from the rock to the battlement on the greater hill, but some houses were erected at a different angle which indicated another street for the near future—to be called the Highway—and the square came into view.