The Mayflower Bride Read online

  Dorothy stopped a few feet ahead of her and laid flat on her stomach, peeking over the edge of the rafters. Placing a finger over her lips, she waved to Mary Elizabeth.

  As Mary Elizabeth reached the lookout spot, voices from the room below became clearer.

  Pastor John Robinson spoke to a room full of their congregation’s elders. “It’s clear that the time has come. With the patent from the Virginia Company for a colony, and with the investments of the Merchants and Adventurers, I believe a small contingent can go on ahead and begin the settlement. Within a few years, we should have our whole congregation there and our debts to the investors for the trip paid in full.”

  Murmurs resounded throughout the room.

  “Can these Strangers be trusted?” A voice from the back put words to Mary Elizabeth’s own thoughts. She’d grown up with the stories of how their congregation had fled England and King James’ religious persecution. The first attempt had been thwarted by a ship’s captain who swindled all the passengers and turned them in to the King’s sheriffs. When they tried again, a number of families were separated for a year as one ship deserted them, leaving many behind.

  But that hadn’t deterred them. Eventually, they’d all made it to Holland.

  Labeled as Separatists because they wanted to separate themselves from the Church of England—which didn’t exactly please the King since he was the “head” of the church—everyone outside of their small group became known as Strangers. Their longing not to abide by the church produced persecution they endured and that was almost as bad as when Bloody Mary reigned.

  It was no wonder several folks voiced their concerns about trust this evening.

  Twelve years had passed, and here they were again. Discussing a way to leave. This time, not so much to flee persecution, but to secure a better future. The memories of dishonest people, though, were still fresh to all who remembered. No one wanted to go through those atrocities again. They’d lost everything.

  Pastor Robinson spoke in a soothing tone. “While no man is without sin, I do believe we can trust them. The investment is sound, and the contracts are binding. We all know the worries that have arisen. It’s getting harder to make a living, and our children are being influenced too much by the culture around them. Sin and evil abound. If we stay, we risk losing the future generations to a dangerous course.”

  Nods accompanied many affirmations.

  Mary Elizabeth tuned out the conversation. How would they even survive? Stories of tragedy abounded for those who had ventured across the ocean. And to start a whole new colony? There wouldn’t be stores or supplies or…anything.

  A shiver raced up her spine. Even though they were often looked down upon by the Dutch because they were outsiders and resolved to live out their faith in ways that went against the norm, she’d felt at home in Leyden. To be honest, it was the only home she remembered. But her people had worked menial jobs and longer hours to support their families, and times were getting tougher.

  A poke to her shoulder made her look at Dorothy.

  Her friend’s face lit up in an exuberant smile. She raised her eyebrows. “Can you imagine the adventure?” The words floated toward Mary Elizabeth in a soft whisper.

  “What?” Had she missed something important?

  Their pastor’s voice echoed through the room. “It’s decided then. We have chosen the first group to go.”

  As they waited for the room to clear, Dorothy filled her in on the families who would venture to the New World. Dorothy’s family—which made her even more animated than usual as she talked with her hands—and the Chapmans, Mary Elizabeth’s family, were part of the group.

  Mary Elizabeth went numb. She didn’t register anything more that Dorothy said. Even as they walked home, her heart couldn’t make any sense out of the jumble of words.

  Dorothy must have recognized something was wrong and followed Mary Elizabeth home. “Mary Elizabeth. What is going on in that head of yours?”

  Lifting the latch to the door of her home, Mary Elizabeth clamped her mouth shut.

  “Don’t shut me out. Aren’t you excited about all this?”

  She turned and stared at her friend’s eyes. Eyes that sparkled with excitement and joy. Why couldn’t she feel that way?

  Dorothy’s warm hand reached out and covered her own. “Come. Let’s get some tea and discuss what you’re thinking. My parents aren’t expecting me home—I told them I was staying over with you—and as long as I am there to milk Polly in the morning and feed the chickens, I should be able to stay as long as you need me.”

  All Mary Elizabeth could manage was a nod. They entered the door to the small rooms she called home. Familiar smells greeted her. Running a hand over a chair her father had carved, she let the feel of it seep into her soul. How could they leave all of this behind?

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, causing Mary Elizabeth to jump and put a hand to her chest. “Father.” Releasing a sigh, she looked down at the floor. He didn’t know where she had gone—did he?

  “I need you to stay with David.” His face was alight with anticipation. “I have much to discuss with the elders.”

  “Is there anything I need to know?”

  “Not yet, my dear. But soon. Very soon.” He kissed her cheek and strode out the door.

  Dorothy pulled out a chair and pointed to it. “Sit. It’s time to destroy this fear and doubt that I see etched all over your face.”

  Tears sprung to Mary Elizabeth’s eyes. They burned as they overflowed and ran down her cheeks.

  Dorothy stayed up with Mary Elizabeth in the kitchen, talking about the meeting until daylight crept in through the windows. While Dorothy’s voice held excitement and wonder, Mary Elizabeth felt only worry and fear. Her friend quoted scripture and hugged her. Told her it would all be all right. God was in control. This was a good thing.

  But what would become of them? Too many of their group were elderly and would have to stay behind, and the elders made it clear that only so many could make the journey. That meant only a small fraction of all the people she’d known the whole of her seventeen years would venture across the vast ocean to the unknown land of the New World.

  “Mary Elizabeth?” Dorothy placed her hand over Mary Elizabeth’s cold one. “Mary Elizabeth, have you heard anything I’ve said?”

  All she could manage was a nod. “I just need some time.”

  “All right. I’d better get back home. The chores won’t get done by themselves.” Her cheery voice did nothing to soothe Mary Elizabeth’s nerves.

  She doubted anything could.

  “Mary Elizabeth, may I go play with Jonathan?” Her little brother pleaded the same thing almost every day.

  And she always said the same thing in response: “Have you finished your chores?”

  He nodded and smiled.

  She tousled his hair and handed him his cap. “Be home in an hour.”

  “I will.”

  Brushing her hands on her apron, she watched him run down the street. He wouldn’t be a little boy much longer, but oh, how she adored him.

  “Mary Elizabeth,” Father called from the stairs, “I need you to sit down with me for a moment.”

  “Of course.” The flutters of her heart couldn’t be stopped, knowing all too well what he would say. She eased herself into a chair across the table from him.

  “We’ve been chosen to go to the New World. Actually, I volunteered.” The smile that lit his face was one she hadn’t seen since before her mother died. “It will be good to have a fresh start and finally have land to call our own.” His gaze went to the window as the smile disappeared. “And there are too many sad memories here.”

  He turned back to face her and shook his head. “Forgive me.” The smile returned. “The journey is soon. It’s all very exciting, but we have much to prepare and I need your help.”

  Odd how the body worked. She remembered forcing herself to nod, trying to look like she was interested in what he had to say, and
tamping down all the fear and frustration inside. But she didn’t really hear a word after that. So many emotions erupted inside her that she didn’t know how to contain them. Before she knew it, Father stood, kissed her cheek, and walked out the door.

  A sob choked its way to the surface. Without thinking, she stood and raced out the door.

  Mary Elizabeth’s heart pounded as her feet thudded against the ground. Running for all she was worth, she didn’t care that it was unseemly for a young woman her age to run. How could Papa be so willing to volunteer?

  She reached the edge of the cemetery and slowed down. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she opened the gate, walked through, and quietly shut it behind her. There always seemed to be a hushed reverence in this small plot of graves surrounded by trees.

  Mary Elizabeth walked through a few rows and stopped in front of her mother’s grave. The fresh flowers she’d left yesterday were already wilting.

  Just like her heart.

  She fell to her knees in the grass and sobbed harder. “Mother, I don’t know what to do! Father has agreed for us to go to the New World ….” She couldn’t even finish her thoughts.

  This place—this hallowed ground—had been her sanctuary in the year since her mother had died. When she had no words to express her thoughts, she came here. And her heart spilled out.

  How could she leave behind her mother?

  Oh, she knew that her mother no longer resided in the body buried beneath the place where she knelt, but it still felt wrong.

  It meant she’d have no refuge. No place to come and hash out her thoughts and questions.

  Mother had been the only one to truly understand her. Dorothy was a dear friend, but she couldn’t fill the hole left by the woman who’d given Mary Elizabeth life. The one who’d kissed her head good night every evening and sung her awake every morning. No matter how scared Mary Elizabeth had been about trying something new, her mother had always been there to encourage her and tell her she could do it.

  Could she do this?

  No. It wasn’t possible.

  But the elders had decided. Father had readily agreed.

  The reality of the situation sank into her stomach like a rock.

  Leaning back on her heels, she cried like she had when her mother had died. “Mother…I can’t do this. I can’t.”

  CHAPTER 1

  Saturday, 22 July 1620

  Delfthaven, Holland

  Gentle waves rocked the Speedwell as the vessel left behind the only home Mary Elizabeth remembered. Salty air stung her nose, and the breeze tugged at wisps of her hair—threatening to loosen them from under her confining cornet.

  Standing as close to the stern of the ship as she could without bothering the crew on the poop deck, Mary Elizabeth inhaled deeply. If only the crisp air could clear her mind like it cleared her lungs. Breathing out a prayer for courage, she clung to the bulwark. Courage had never been her strength. The past few weeks had confirmed that indeed it was all happening. And here she stood. On a ship.

  Could she do this? Truly?

  She’d armed herself with her prized possessions: her mother’s red cape draped comfortingly around her shoulders; treasured receipts from generations prior sat safely tucked into the pockets tied around her waist; and the memory of the woman who loved her and modeled what it meant to be a godly wife and mother resided, always and forever, in her heart. Reaching her hand behind her apron, she slipped it through the slit in her skirt and found the string of pockets tied around her waist. The one with the receipts hung in the middle. She ran her fingers over the edges of the worn papers. Grandmother’s savory egg-and-spinach pie receipt, a boiled pudding receipt from her mother, and her favorite—Mother’s rye-and-barley bread—were among them.

  If only mother were still alive. Maybe this journey wouldn’t be so difficult.

  Even though their time in Holland had been full of difficult stretches, God had been good to Mary Elizabeth there. She’d had her family, her dear friend Dorothy, and plenty of work to keep her busy. Besides that, it was familiar. Safe.

  But no more. The land she knew had drifted out of her sight hours before. Never to be seen again.

  The Saints, as they preferred to call themselves, had left England twelve years before while under persecution from the King and the Church of England. When they left for Holland, they wished only to separate themselves from England’s church so they could study the scripture more and follow the state’s rules and taxations less. They believed only what the Bible told them, so they considered all the man-made rules and traditions of the Church of England to be wrong.

  She didn’t remember England. But Holland would remain forged in her mind for the rest of her days.

  Now it all seemed surreal. Listening in the rafters that night had been the beginning for her, but the group’s preparation had been going on for years.

  Correspondence to grant the Saints permission to start a colony in the New World had gone back and forth to England. And then John Carver and Robert Cushman were sent to London to negotiate an agreement.

  Finally, permission from the King had been granted. In fact, he seemed to bless the endeavor with his words, “as long as they went peaceably.”

  Memories of their departure from Leyden washed over her. The rest of the congregation that stayed behind and many of their Dutch neighbors had come to see them off. There had been shedding of tears aplenty. But when Pastor Robinson dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, Mary Elizabeth had lost control of her emotions, as well. As he prayed for the Lord’s blessing and commended the travelers on their journey, she wanted to gain strength from his words. But she’d only felt weaker and more inadequate.

  A spray of salt water hit her face and brought her back to the reality of where she stood. The planning was done. The packing was over. Goodbyes had been said. And now Holland had vanished from sight. She and the others on the ship would reach England soon, and after they met up with the Mayflower and her passengers—the other brave souls who would journey to the New World with the Separatists to establish a colony—they would be on their way.

  To what, she was unsure.

  Squinting, she gazed toward the horizon in the west. What would this New World hold? Papa had regaled her with stories of lush, fertile land. Land unclaimed by anyone else. Land supplying an abundance of food. Land that held no persecution for their faith.

  Her faith. It meant everything to her. And the thought of freedom to worship and learn and grow in God’s Word thrilled her beyond imagining. It was the one thing that helped her through the past weeks when she’d had to swallow the reality that yes, she was going to the New World. Dorothy helped her to focus on the positive, and Mary Elizabeth clung to the thought of her faith.

  Years ago, her father had spent almost a month of wages on a Bible so they could read it themselves. The first time she’d been allowed to hold the volume in her hands, she’d cried. She found it such a privilege to read the Bible, translated in its entirety to her own English language and printed in 1560, and understood why her people—the Saints—longed to separate themselves from England’s Church. Why didn’t everyone long to read the Word as she did? Why were they content to sit in church, pay homage to their country, and listen to passages read from the Book of Common Prayer and nothing else? Church was an obligation, a ceremony, a ritual to them. But followers of Christ were called to share the Gospel and be set apart. The difference in thinking didn’t make sense to Mary Elizabeth. Especially since so many had been persecuted for it.

  The New World held more than just release from persecution. Papa and the other men dreamed of working their own farms with land as far as the eye could see. In Holland, the hard labor they’d all put in for decades had given them nothing of their own.

  To think the New World could hold the answer to all their hopes and dreams.

  It sounded lovely.

  So why did her heart hesitate so? She’d shed enough tears to create a river the past few we
eks, and she’d finally told the Lord that enough was enough. The only way she could make it through was with His help. Her new recitation became I can do this.

  Papa’s excitement rubbed off on her younger brother, David, but most of the time she’d had to force a smile. No matter. It wasn’t her place to go against Papa, and his mind was made up. They’d been chosen.

  Her father had kept himself busy with the plans to go. So much so, she’d hardly seen him in a fortnight. His absence made their departure that much more difficult to bear.

  It made her feel…alone.

  And now she stood on a ship. Going.

  She felt lonelier than ever.

  She shook her head. She could do this. Her mind just needed to stay off these thoughts of loneliness and instead keep occupied.

  Papa was engaged in excited conversations with the other men, which would probably be the daily activity for him the entirety of their voyage. So she must find something to keep her mind occupied and off these thoughts of loneliness.

  She could do this.

  But the recited phrase couldn’t keep the questions from filling her thoughts: Would the New World be as beautiful as Holland? Would she make friends? Would she find a God-fearing husband?

  Or would the savages kill them all in their sleep?

  Another tiny shiver raced up her spine. Such thoughts were not appropriate. Papa would have a fit if he knew she’d listened to the sailors’ stories. He’d scolded David for repeating the derogatory name savages. But what if that’s what they were? Were they sailing into their own demise?

  “Mary Elizabeth!”

  Dorothy’s voice drifted across the deck of the ship, and Mary Elizabeth waved and smiled at her friend. She must not allow her foolish doubts to dull Dorothy’s enthusiasm for every aspect of this new life.

  “I had a feeling I would find you here. Fresh air is always your first choice.” Dorothy smiled and leaned on the bulwark as the ship listed to the right. “Your father is teaching David about Jamestown and the New World.”