| Chapter IX
Urgent explorations for a place to settle
Colonists' expeditions, marked by
severe storms and
an Indian assault, lead at length to the choice
of Plymouth as their permanent home.
At
last in a "good harbor and brought safe to land," said Bradford,
the Pilgrims "fell upon their knees and blessed the God of
Heaven who had brought them over the vast and furious ocean,
and delivered them from all the perils and miseries thereof,
again to set their feet on the firm and stable earth, their
proper element."
The longboat was put over the side of the Mayflower and a
landing party of 15 or 16 armed men headed for shore. But
the boat could not get to the beach and the men, weighted
down with their armor and carrying axes to use in replenishing
the ships exhausted wood supply, were forced "to wade a bowshot
or two on going aland"--at least knee-deep in cold November
seawater.
They were pleased with the large size of the harbor and with
the wooded shore. "There was the greatest store of fowl that
ever we saw" and whales were "playing hard by us."
The group climbed the highland where now the Pilgrim Monument
towers, and saw the other, ocean side of the Cape, which reminded
them of the dunes of Holland. Before returning that night
to the Mayflower they "laded their boat with juniper,"
a chore that must have involved a lot of wading, for the sweet-smelling
supply lasted the whole time the Mayflower was moored
in this harbor.
They were deeply anxious to meet any inhabitants--potential
future neighbors--but saw neither Indians nor any sign of
Indian habitation.
The next day, a Sunday, was the Lord's Day to the Pilgrims
and they observed it in their customary devout fashion despite
the time pressures upon them.
Ever since they had dropped anchor, Master Jones and the crew
had been urging that "with speed they should look out a place."
Jones did not want to leave until his passengers were out
of danger, but he had to keep a share of the diminishing food
supply for his return trip.
The following day, the Pilgrims went ashore "to refresh themselves
and our women to wash, as they had great need." Thus did Monday
as washday become a longtime New England tradition. While
the women scrubbed, the men fetched ashore the sections of
the shallop, which was "bruised and battered...much opened
with the people's lying in her."
The carpenters went to work to reassemble the craft on the
beach. As with the Mayflower, no plan of the shallop
exists. From its use in exploration and the number of passengers
that would sail in the craft, it appears that the shallop--with
a single mast, mainsail and jib--was between 20 and 30 feet
long, with a beam of 7 to 9 feet.
When it seemed that repair might take five or six days--actually,
it would take much longer--some of the Pilgrims, "impatient
of delay," desired to explore the shore despite the fact that
without the shallop they would have to carry provisions on
their backs.
Under solicitous instructions "to be out but two days," 16
volunteers--"with every man his musket, sword and corslet
(armor for the upper body)"--were put ashore on Nov. 15 and
set off under their military leader, short, stout-hearted
Myles Standish.
This was to be the first of three exploratory expeditions
undertaken by the Pilgrims before, more than a month later--after
many hardships, deadly exposure to the elements, Indian attack,
tragic deaths and the near wreck of the shallop in a storm--the
Mayflower would sail west across Cape Cod Bay and
anchor in the harbor of the final choice for their plantation.
Standish and his men had gone about a mile along the beach
when they spotted five or six men and a dog. At first they
thought these might be Jones and some of his crew, who were
also ashore. When they realized that they were seeing Indians,
they sought eagerly to meet with them. But the Indians, far
fleeter than the armor-clad Pilgrims, ran away.
After more miles of following footprints on sand and trails
in woods, to no avail, the group prepared a lodging for the
night--gathering wood, making a fire and posting three sentinels.
Next day, still within the future town on Truro, they resumed
their trailing. They had brought only biscuits, Holland cheese
and a little bottle of aqua vitae (liquor), and soon, having
no water or beer, they were "sore athirst." Presently, in
midmorning, they spotted a deer and came upon springs of fresh
water. Here, they "drunk our first New England water with
as much delight as ever we drunk drink in all our lives."
Thinking then of the folks on the Mayflower, they
headed for the beach and made a fire to signal back that all
was well.
On the first coming into the harbor, Jones had spotted to
the southeastward what appeared to be a river opening in the
mainland. The Pilgrims struck out southward to find it. En
route, they came upon none of the inhabitants they were hoping
to meet but found evidence aplenty that this was Indian terrain.
Near present Pond Village, they saw acres where the Indians
had formerly planted corn and found Indian graves. They also
discovered planks where a house had been, and a large metal
kettle.
Most providentially, they later spotted recently heaped mounds
of sand and, after digging, uncovered a cache vital to their
future: baskets of Indian corn, and a few dozen ears of different
colors. It was, said Bradford, "a very goodly sight, having
never seen any such before." After agreeing that they would
recompense the owners--which indeed they would one day do--they
filled their pockets with the precious seed corn and also
took the kettle, which the two men carried away on a staff.
The rest of the corn they reburied.
On nearing the river, now called after the local Pamet tribe,
they saw the remainder of an old palisade, or fort--the handiwork
of Europeans, as seemed true as well of the planked house
and the kettle. As for the Pamet River, they felt that they
had insufficient time to explore it and decided to leave that
until after the restoration of the shallop. They made a note
of two canoes, one on either bank, and then headed back.
That night, a very rainy one, they spent by the pond after
raising a barricade, making a fire and posting three sentinels.
To save time in the morning, the explorers sank the kettle
in the pond and took off through the woods--where they got
lost and had to puzzle their way out.
On nearing the Mayflower the group shot off muskets
and the longboat shoved off to fetch them. Carver and Jones
and many others came ashore to greet them with relief and
delight; for, said Bradford, the Pilgrims "were marvelously
glad and their hearts encouraged" by what Standish and his
volunteers called "Our First Discovery."
There was, though, an ominous aspect to their explorations.
Bradford observed that they could neither go to nor come from
the shore except at high water. "Oftentimes they waded to
the middle of the thigh," he said. Some made the trip of necessity,
some for the pleasure of getting to stand on firm land. "But,"
said Bradford, "it brought to most, if not to all, coughs
and colds, the weather proving suddenly cold and stormy, which
afterwards turned to the scurvy, whereof many died."
Although the carpenters estimated it would take two additional
days to completely repair the shallop, the Pilgrims decided
to shove off Nov. 27 for further explorations of the Pamet
River area.
"Our Second Discovery," as the Pilgrims called it, would cover
four difficult days. Twenty-four men were picked to go--a
number increased to thirty-four when Jones expressed a wish
to go, too, and brought nine of his crew. In gratitude for
his kindness, Jones was chosen leader.
They used both the shallop and the longboat. Confronted with
"rough weather and cross winds," they were soon forced to
seek the nearest shore, and then to wade above the knees to
get to it.
Some of the men, worried about the loss of time, marched an
additional six or seven miles. "It blowed and did snow all
that day and night, and froze withal." Thinking back days
later on their frigid experience, they noted: "Some of our
people that are dead took the original of their death here."
Next day the group sailed to the mouth of the Pamet River.
Understandably, they called it "Cold Harbour." They decided
it was navigable only by boats, not ships. After they had
plodded up steep hills and down into valleys through six inches
of snow, their wearied captain felt that they should rest.
Some wanted to explore further, but they made camp for the
night "under a few pine trees."
They had eaten little that day, and dined "with soldiers'
stomachs" when they bagged three fat geese and six ducks.
By morning the explorers decided the land was too hilly and
the harbor too shallow for a settlement, and they went looking
for the place they had cached the rest of the corn. This was
on a hill near the shore overlooking Cold Harbour. They named
it "Corn Hill," still its name. They had to dig with cutlesses
and short swords a foot into the frozen ground; and they thanked
God that they had made the first exploratory trip, for the
ground was now hidden by snow and hard-frozen.
Bradford, in his history, emphasized what "a special Providence
of God" that first corn discovery had been: "They got seed
to plant them corn the next year, or else they might have
starved, for they had none nor any likelihood to get any till
the season had been past, as the sequel did manifest."
They dug in other places and, in all, got about ten bushels
of corn, two or three baskets of wheat and a bag of beans.
Then weather-wise Master Jones saw that the sky portended
foul weather and wished to go back aboard ship. So they sent
back all the corn and "our weakest people and some that were
sick." This left 18 who hoped to find Indians, with whom they
were eager to trade--or, as they expressed it, to truck.
NEXT DAY THE EXPLORERS
FOLLOWED TRAILS into the woods, but found no Indians. On the
way back they came upon graves, especially one that was "much
bigger and longer than any we had yet seen." They made an
astonishing discovery on opening it: Besides the bones of
a child, they found those of a man whose "skull had fine yellow
hair still on it."
They tried to guess the mystery surely surrounding burial.
From seagoing artifacts in the grave, they concluded that
the blonde corpse was most likely that of one of a group of
French sailors killed by Nauset Indians after their ship was
wrecked on Cape Cod in 1616-1617.
In the late afternoon, they discovered two Indian houses--arbor-like
lodges with roofs made from saplings that had been curved
and then covered with mats. Still, they found no Indians.
[rounded summer dwellings. One can be seen at Plimoth Plantation.]
With night coming the group hastened aboard the shallop and
headed back to the Mayflower. They soon noted that "cold and
wet lodging had so tainted our people, for scarce any of us
were free from vehement coughs."
Aboard ship, there followed worried debate--lengthy despite
the pressure for a speedy decision--on where they should settle.
No place they had yet explored seemed to satisfy their desire
that the site chosen possesses a good water supply, ample
corn ground, a convenient harbor and good fishing, and that
it be "healthful, secure and defensible."
The discussion was presently joined by a crewman who had an
attractive suggestion. Robert Coppin, the ship's second mate
and its pilot, recalled on an earlier voyage he had seen a
"good harbor" near what he thought was another headland of
Cape Cod. It was "some eight leagues (about 24 miles) distant,"
he told them; and because an Indian there made off with a
harpoon during the trading, Coppin and his mates had called
the place "Thievish Harbor." [the second mate and pilot of the Mayflower actually had been to America and Plymouth one year before, another Divine set-up!]
The Pilgrims thereupon decided on a third trip of discovery,
which was not to go beyond "Thievish Harbor." It was now the
first full week in December. It would be one of the most momentous
of their voyage, with the weather, at times, brutal.
What Bradford would call the General Sickness now began to
take its toll. On Monday, Dec. 4, a young servant boy, Jasper
More, one of four More children who were among the orphans
brought by the Strangers and the Pilgrims, died.
The weather Dec. 5 was "too foul" for the shallop to leave.
During that day the Mayflower, as told in Mourt's Relation,
narrowly escaped destruction by gunpowder. One of the young
sons of the colony's worst troublemaker, John Billington of
London, found some gunpowder, and in his father's absence
made "squibs" (firecrackers). More seriously, he discharged
his father's fowling piece amid scattered gunpowder in the
cabin, "there being a little barrel of powder half full...and
yet, by God's mercy, no harm done."
The shallop set sail on Dec. 6. Among the eighteen volunteers
were ten of the foremost Pilgrims, including Carver, Bradford,
Winslow and Standish. Two of the Pilgrims' hired seamen were
also along, who had made two prior voyages to America, and
Coppin, to show the way to "Thievish Harbor."
The weather was "very cold and hard." It was some time before
they could even get clear of Long Point. "The water froze
on our clothes and made them many times like coats of iron."
After they got under the weather shore, however, the sailing
was better and the explorers went several leagues along the
coast. As they landed at present Eastham, they saw 10 to 12
Indians cutting up a stranded grampus two or three miles away.
The Pilgrims made a barricade and a fire, and set sentinels.
They could see the smoke of the Indians' fire that night a
few miles away.
The following day the company divided, some sailing along
the shore, others exploring by land. In the woods the land
contingent found more graves and former Indian dwellings,
but no Indians. They signaled the shallop as the sun began
to draw low. "Weary and faint, for we had eaten nothing all
that day," they prepared their camp--another barricade of
logs, stakes and thick pine boughs near the north bank where
the present Herring River enters the bay.
Just about midnight the explorers heard "a great and hideous
cry; and our sentinels called, 'Arm! Arm!'" They shot off
a couple of muskets and the noise ceased. "We concluded,"
they noted, "that it was a company of wolves and foxes."
The next day, Dec. 8 was to be one of their most exhausting
and dangerous. The weather was the worst of the week; and
that night the shallop would nearly be lost on the rocks,
which would have meant, as they phrased it, "the overthrow
of all."
As daybreak came they faced their first shock.
They started stirring about 5 a.m., held prayer, and began
preparing breakfast and moving things down to the shallop.
Some were concerned about moving down their armor and guns,
and four of the explorers kept theirs--fortunately. As the
others returned from the shallop to breakfast there was again,
as at midnight, "a great strange cry," and one of the company
came running in, yelling: "They are men! Indians! Indians!
Thereupon, "arrows came flyijng amongst us."
The four Pilgrims with arms manned the open side of the barricade.
Standish, who had a quick-firing snaphance, or flintlock,
fired, and so did another. The other two held fire to be sure
of their targets. The men at the shallop fired three of their
matchlocks (slow-firing guns).
The Indians, not "less than 30 or 40" in number, fled--after
some had come dangerously close to shoot their arrows. The
Pilgrims followed them for a quarter mile and fired a couple
of muskets, "that they might see we were not afraid."
None of the Pilgrims was injured. But for settlers eager to
meet and trade with their neighbors, the experience appeared
deeply dismaying. Bradford said he later learned that the
Indians believed that the Pilgrims were confreres who had
"come to revenge" the murder of the French sailors by the
Nausets.
The Pilgrims retrieved their arrow-pierced coats from the
barricade and gathered 18 arrows that Master Jones would later
take back to England. They called the place "First Encounter
Beach," still its name.
Coppin's estimate of the distance to his "Thievish Harbor"
was more accurate than he realized, had the Pilgrims' shallop
gone directly westward across Cape Cod Bay. The exploratory
group, however, had been taking a route more than three times
longer, keeping close to the unexplored coast of the bay so
that they could spot any harbor. The wind was good as they
left First Encounter Beach. For many miles they found "neither
river nor creek." Then, after a couple of hours, the weather
changed to snow and rain and in the afternoon the wind increased,
"the seas began to be very rough...and the hinges of the rudder
broke."
Two sailors struggled to steer with oars. The seas "had grown
so great that we were much troubled and in great danger; and
night grew on."
Their crisis soon intensified.
"Master Coppin bade us be of good cheer; he saw the harbor."
His shipmates, said Bradford, crowded on what sail they could"
to get in while they could see. But herewith they broke their
mast in three pieces and their sail fell overboard in a very
grown sea, so as they had like to have been cast away. [ Object
lesson for you sailors, never put up more sail in heavy weather.]
Yet by God's mercy they recovered themselves, and having flood
(tide) with them, struck into the harbor."
Then came the worst moment: Coppin, perceiving that ahead
was "a cove full of breakers," cried out, "Lord be merciful
unto them for his eyes never saw that place before..."
Apparently, instead of heading into Plymouth Bay, they were
being swept, with the tide and wind behind them, toward a
beach between the Gurnet and Saquish Head.
DISASTER WAS SUDDENLY
AVERTED WHEN ONE of the mariners--Bradford described him only
as "a lusty sailor which steered"--yelled to those rowing:
"About with her or else they were all cast away; the which
they did with speed. So he bid them to be of good cheer and
row lustily, for there was a fair sound before them, and he
doubted not but they should find one place or other where
they might ride in safety. And though it was very dark and
rained sore, yet in the end they got under the lee of a small
island..."
They would actually not know until morning that they had found
safety on an island. The lusty sailor had brought them around
Saquish Head to a small island just to its north in future
Duxbury Bay. Miraculously, he had also averted the shallop's
being grounded on another hazard at the entrance to Plymouth
Bay, a shoal on which French Explorer Samuel de Champlain's
ship had grounded in 1605.
Mindful of what had happened to them that morning on First
Encounter Beach, some of the Pilgrims considered it best to
stay with the boat and keep watch. Others, also wet and cold,
went ashore and made a fire. And when, after midnight, the
wind shifted to the northwest "and it froze hard," the rest
joined them.
The morning brought a "fair sunshining day." Marching around
revealed they were on an island with "no inhabitants at all."
They named it for First Mate Clarke, who had been the first
to go ashore. [So the Mayflower’s first and second mates were onboard the shallop for this exploratory voyage.]
They proceeded comfortably to "dry their stuff, fix their
pieces (weapons) and rest themselves; and gave God thanks
for His mercies in their manifold deliverances." Thus they
spent Saturday; and on the following day, the Sabbath [their
Sabbath was Sunday], they rested.
Dec. 11, the next day, they explored Plymouth Bay and the
shore and decided that here was "the best they could find,
and the season and their present necessity made them glad
to accept it."
They had sounded the harbor and found it "fit for shipping,"
then "marched into the land and found divers cornfields, and
little running brooks, a place very good for situation."
This area had been the seat of the Patuxets, Squanto's people,
who were wiped out by the plague. It was the place, as Bradford
learned later, of which Capt. Thomas Dermer wrote to Sir Fernando
Gorges, "I would that the first plantation might here be seated."
The Pilgrim leaders sailed 25 miles directly eastward back
to the Mayflower and told the others of their exciting
discovery, which, said Bradford, "did much comfort their hearts."
[You cannot see Provincetown from Plymouth, it’s over the horizon. Their navigation was very sound.]
For Bradford himself, however, there was dreadful news. His
wife, Dorothy--whom he had married in Holland in 1613, which
she had just turned 16 years of age, and who was the mother
of their 5-year-old son, John, like other Pilgrim children
left behind with Rev. John Robinson--was dead.
Rev. Cotton Mather of the Puritans, in an early account of
Bradford's life, said Bradford's "dearest consort, accidently
falling overboard, was drowned in the harbor." This was on
Dec. 7--a week after the seventh anniversary of their marriage,
and just a day after Bradford had left the Mayflower
to join in the perilous but decisive Third Discovery that
led the Pilgrims to Plymouth.
|
