On the 6th of December the shallop was again sent out, with ten of their principal men, to sail round the bay and discover, if possible, a better place for a settlement. “The weather was still intensely cold, and the spray of the sea froze on them till their clothes looked as if they were glazed, and felt like coats of iron.” Reaching the bottom of the bay, they saw at night the smoke of Indian fires at four or five miles distance. The next day some of their number landed, travelled along the shore, and again found graves and deserted wigwams, but neither saw any natives nor yet any place that they liked. The next morning they rose betimes, and their prayers being ended, day dawning and the tide high, they heard “a great and strange cry,” the Indian war-whoop, which was followed by a flight of arrows; on the discharge of their muskets, however, the Indians fled, after which, returning thanks to God, they entered their shallop and pursued their course. In the afternoon a fearful tempest overtook them, which increased as the day wore on, and their pilot having mistaken his course, “they were nearly cast away, when the providence of God showed a fair sound before them, and though it was very dark and rained hard, they lay to, part went on shore, spite of danger from the savages, and after much difficulty kindled a fire.”
As the morning dawned, the place was found to be a small secure island. “And this being the last day of the week, they here dried their stuff, fixed their pieces, rested, and returned thanks to God for their many deliverances; and on the following day kept here their Christian sabbath.”
Early on Monday morning they landed, their faith fixed on the Rock of Ages, and crossed the rocky threshold of that great land which was to receive from them an imperishable impress. And long as America stands will its people regard the rock which then received their footsteps as the altar and bulwark of religion and liberty. Man is often unconscious of the sublimity of his actions; so was it now. God had guided the Pilgrims thither; their home was not to be in the milder climate of Virginia, where the affluent shores, laughing with the abundance of fruit and flowers, might welcome them in the glory of summer; they were carried northward, in the inclemency of winter, to an iron-bound coast; their landing was on a barren rock, and the very harvests of their future years were reaped from corn dug out of Indian graves. They were to be the forefathers of a race pure in life, steadfast in principle, sincere in religion; their human virtues were here called forth by their mutual sufferings; their courage and perseverance tested by the severest hardships; their faith in God assured by the overruling of his providence and the continuance of his mercies. Such and so high was the destination of the Pilgrims, who now marching inland, found divers corn-fields and running brooks, and who, eight days later, the Mayflower being safely harboured, still further examined the coast, again finding “neither wigwam, Indian, nor navigable river, but brooks of sweet, fresh water running into the sea, with choice land formerly possessed and planted.”
On the 20th, after still further examination, they decided to settle “on the mainland on a high ground facing the bay, where corn had been planted three or four years before, a sweet brook running under the hill, with many delicate springs.” Here they commenced building, frequently interrupted by storms of wind and rain, many of them “ill of grievous colds and the great and many hardships they had endured, and amid death and terror of the Indians. And here on the last day of the year, being Lord’s-Day, the Sabbath was kept for the first time in the place of their building, and the name of Plymouth given to the settlement, in grateful memory of the Christian friends they found at Plymouth in England the last time they left their native land.”
In March, it is recorded that “a south wind brought fine weather, and that the birds sang in the woods most pleasantly;” but the sun shone and the birds sang above many graves. Of the forty-one who signed the “solemn compact” before-mentioned on board the Mayflower, twenty alone survived; the living were scarcely sufficient to bury the dead; the hale to attend to the sick. Among those who died thus early, were some of the most distinguished men; the excellent John Carver, whom they had by mutual consent appointed to be their governor, had on his first landing lost a son, and soon after the Mayflower took her departure for England, he himself was carried off suddenly, and his wife, broken-hearted, did not long survive.
As spring advanced and the general sickness abated, the hardships of want had yet to be encountered. In the autumn of the following year their numbers were increased by fresh emigrants, who came unprovided with supplies, and the colony for six months had to subsist on half allowance. “I have seen men,” says Winslow, “stagger by reason of faintness for want of food.” In the next July we hear that their number was about one hundred persons, all in health, “that is to say, free from sickness, though not weakness;” they had nearly sixty acres of corn planted, besides well-furnished gardens. Unfortunately, however, a number of emigrants who stayed some time with them, proved to be “an unruly company, who exceedingly wasted and stole their corn, and secretly reviled them,” and their crop proving scanty, a famine would have ensued but for “an unexpected Providence” which sent a ship into their harbour, from which they bought knives and beads, and thus were able to trade with the Indians for corn and beaver. Nor were their sufferings from want of short duration. In the third year of their settlement, their want of food was so great that they “knew not at night where to find a bit in the morning,” and for three or four months together had neither bread nor corn, and having but one boat left, six or seven of their company took it by turns to go out and fish, never returning without a supply, though they might remain five or six days out; and when the supply was short, the remainder dug shell-fish from the sands for sustenance. And thus they lived through the summer, now and then getting a deer from the woods, and in the winter helping out with fowl and ground-nuts. In the midst of this season of want arrived a ship from England, bringing out many of their old friends and various of the wives and children of those who already were here, “and the best dish,” writes the simple chronicler, “that we could present them with, was a lobster or piece of fish, without bread or anything else but a cup of fair water.” When these passengers, says he, “saw our poor and low condition, they were dismayed and full of sadness,” adding that the “long continuance of our spare diet, and our labours abroad, had somewhat abated the freshness of our complexion.” Yet through all their sufferings, their faith in the providence of God never failed them.
At the risk of prolonging this portion of our history too far, we must be allowed to make two further extracts from their chronicle. Spite of their hopes of a good harvest from the promising appearance of their sixty acres of corn-land in May, by the month of July the corn had withered in the blade and stalk; “their hopes were overthrown, and their joy turned into mourning, besides which a ship, which was expected with supplies from England, after long waiting for, was a wreck far out at sea.” The most courageous were now disheartened, and by public authority, a day was appointed for humiliation and prayer, and the seeking of the Lord in their distress. And a speedy answer, say they, “was given, to our own and the Indians’ admiration. For though in the former part of the day it was very close and hot, without a cloud or sign of rain, yet towards evening, before the exercise was over, clouds gathered, and the next morning distilled such soft and gentle showers as gave cause of joy and praise to God. Softly fell the rain, without wind or violence for fourteen days, and the corn and other fruits revived so as was wonderful to see, and the Indians were astonished to behold; and there was a joyful prospect of abundant harvest.”
Similar in spirit to this is the record in the “Charlestown Chronicle,” seven years later. “Now, as the winter came on, provisions began to be very scarce, and the people were necessitated to live upon shell-fish, and ground-nuts, and acorns, and these got with much difficulty in the winter time. Upon which people were very much tried and discouraged, especially when they heard that the governor himself had the last batch of bread in the oven; and it was believed that the ship sent to Ireland for provisions was cast away or taken by pirates. But God, who delights to appear in great straits, did work marvellously at this time; for before the very day appointed to seek the Lord by prayer and fasting in the month of February, the ship came in laden with provisions.” Mather relates of this incident, “that Winthrop, the governor, was distributing the last handful of meal to a poor man, distressed by the wolf at the door, when at that instant they espied a ship at the mouth of the harbour, laden with provisions for all. Upon which occasion the day of fast was changed, and ordered to be kept as a day of thanksgiving.” It is in beautiful commemoration of some such remarkable incident as this that Thanksgiving Day is still held annually throughout the New England States.
The system of common property, which had at first been established in the colony, not being found to work well, was discontinued; and in the spring of 1624, a little land was apportioned to each settler, which was soon well cultivated; for “now even women and children worked in the field;” corn, therefore, so far from being scarce, formed, in a short time, a profitable article of commerce with the Indians, who bartering their beaver and other skins with the colonists for corn, furnished them with the means of lucrative traffic with the mother-country.
The spot to which Divine Providence guided the Pilgrims had, as if in preparation for them, been depopulated by pestilence only a few years before; the land had the advantage of former cultivation, and there were no inhabitants to dispute with them possession. The distant smoke of their fires, and occasional hostile demonstrations, indicated that Indians were in the vicinity; and in order to be prepared for whatever danger might occur, the settlers very soon assumed a military organisation; Miles Standish, one of the bravest of their company, being appointed their captain. The Indians, however, were by no means hostilely disposed.