It was August 5, 1620, already late in the year for a voyage to the New World. It would have been far better to have left in the late spring, when the Atlantic winds were more favorable, and arrived in time to build houses and explore the country in mild summer weather. Even so, with a good crossing they could still arrive by earlyOctober, and have some kind of shelter before the worst of winter came.
But not even this mild share of good fortune was to be theirs. Two ships, the Mayflower and the Speedwell, set out to cross the ocean, but twice, they were forced to turnback to make repairs on the leaky Speedwell. At length, it was determined she was altogether unseaworthy, and the Mayflower began the voyage for the third time, alone.By now it was September 6, and they could look forward to arriving on a savage coastat the beginning of winter. With the delays, they had already consumed all the provisions they had calculated for the voyage. Now they were eating food that they might need to stay alive after they landed.
A "fine small gale" sent theMayflower bounding out upon the North Atlantic at a six-or seven-knot pace. A welcome gift, but it had its dark side. Almost everyone promptly became seasick. With sanitation facilities limited to buckets and 102 passengers, including some 34 children aboard, life belowdeck must have been anything but pleasant.To add to the bedlam, there were two dogs aboard, a husky mastiff and a small spaniel.
Even without the minor irritations created by dogs and children, the pasengers and the crew were poorly matched. The average sailor of 1620 was an illiterate, profane brawler with nothing but contempt for landlubbers. They took special pleasure in bawling oaths and profanities at the top of their lungs. One sailor, described byWilliam Bradford as a "proud and very profane young man, of a lusty able body, which made him the more haughty," was particularly nasty. "He would always be condemning the poor people in their sickness, and cursing them daily with grievous execrations, and did not let to tell them that he hoped to help to cast half of them overboard before they came to their journey's end, and make merry with what they had."They were at sea a little more than two weeks, when this proud and profane young man was inexplicably stricken with a sudden disease. In the space of a few days, he died "in a desperate manner," raving and cursing to his last breath. The other sailors were more than a little appalled by the sudden demise of their champion, and for the rest of the voyage no one in the crew was inclined to taunt or torment thepassengers with such uninhibited malice.
If their food was typical of other sailing ships, there were always a multitude of insects burrowing through it -- little brown grubs, weavils, and maggots. Rats, too, were certain to be prevalent, and they would also leave their unpleasant deposits in the food. The range of food available was not wide. The only way to preservemeat was to salt it or to pickle it in brine. Beef, pork, and fish, thus treated, were on the menu, along with biscuits made of wheat flour and dried pea flour. Mush, oatmeal, and pease pudding were also occasionally available. They may have had pease soup or a lobscouse, a thick stew containing chunks of salt meat. Soup was always welcome because it gave the diners something to soften their biscuits in -- after a few weeks they became as hard as cannon balls. For a treat, there may have been burgoo, oatmeal sweetened with molasses, or doughboys, dumplings of wet flour boiled in pork fat, or best of all, pplum duff, a suet pudding containing raisins or prunes.
All of this was washed down with quantities of beer. No one in 1620 would drink water except as a last desperate recource. The best medical opinion held that it was injurious to health and often fatal. Aboard ship, water was carried in charred casks. For the first few weeks at sea, it would stink so foully that no one could gag down a mouthful. But after another week or two it cleared and became relatively odorless, though somewhat slimy.
Excerpts from the book by Thomas J. Flemming
ONE SMALL CANDLE
The Pilgrims' First Year In America
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