Perils Intensify

At this season of the year, heavy weather on the Atlantic was inevitable. Finally it came, the cold breath of the Arctic, tearing down the long reach of white-capped sea. "All hands, all hands," roared the boatswain's mate. Into the shrouds went the shivering seamen, while others heaved on the groaning, squealing yards. Aboard the old square-riggers, sails were furled by hoisting, never an easy job, and worse now with the wind tearing at them. Then came the job of lashing them, sixty feet above the careening ocean.

The masts swayed crazily against the lowering sky, and the bow lifted hesitantly over first one swell and then a second, and finally a third gave her no chance to come up and she plowed into the heart of the onrushing mountain of water, which came thundering over the forecastle. Now sea after sea broke over the old ship, sending her reeling first to the port and then to the starboard. Belowdeck the passengers huddled together praying for God's help. To make matters worse, the pounding seas opened all the seams in the Mayflower's upper works, and with every wave, freezing water cascaded down upon the hapless passengers. The weary ship plunged down, down into immense hollows of water, fighting her way up the other side, while the foaming ocean stormed over every inch of her decks.

At such times even sailors prayed.But still the wind thundered and the ocean smashed at their ship. Another monstrous wave boome down, and with the crash of a cannon shot, a main beam amidship cracked and buckled. Pandemonium now, both from men and weather. Water gushed through new openings, and the terrified passengers huddled against the ship's sides to escape it. Would their makeshift repairs hold? Should they turn back now, halfway over, or go forward?All eyes turned to Captain Christopher Jones. The mates had given their opinions, but they did not really count. It was the captain who must decide -- and their lives hung in the balance between his courage and his prudence. True, wind and weather would be more favorable on a run back to England. But the old ship was still solid under the water, and that was what counted. He had seen her through bad weather before. She was a solid, dependable old girl, and he was ready to swear by her for a few more years, at least. A deep sigh of relief ran through the listening passengers.

Then a new crisis. Cries of pain from the Great Cabin. Elizabeth Hopkins was in labor. Neither she nor her husband ever expected to have their child during an Atlantic gale. By every sane calculation, they should have been in the New World by now.Childbirth was dangerous enough, but in a damp, foul cabin, without heat or warm water -- no, it was better not to think about what might happen. William Brewster suggested they join in prayers for Elizabeth, and the Leyden exiles and the London strangers knelt together while the quiet, steady voice of the ruling elder led them in asking help for her. Then Mary Brewster came out of the cabin holding a small bundle in her arms, a lusty yowling baby boy. Stephen Hopkins promptly named the new arrival Oceanus.

The birth cheered everyone. Even the sailors regarded it as a good omen, and vowed that land could not be far away now. But the Atlantic was not through with them yet. As the tenth week at sea drew to a close, William Butten, a husky twenty-two-year-old, took to his bunk complaining of a terrible weakness. One moment he was pouring sweat, unable to tolerate a blanket over him, the next he was shivering with a tremendous chill. Then came agonizing pain, stabbing lances of fire in his arms and legs, and a terrible, nameless fear. It was the first case of scurvvy, soon complicated by pneumonia. The trapped voyagers sat in the darkness listening to his rasping struggle for life. William Brrewster led them in prayers once more. But this time the Atlantic would not be denied. Before morning Butten was dead.

It was a time for prayer and pleading. This death would be the first of many if they did not get off the Mayflower soon. Belowdeck there were ominous signs of trouble.Men were complaining of swollen legs; one or two women were in their bunks with WilliamButten's chills and torpor. The young men and boys were particularly bad. Perhaps they, as well as Butten, had been careless of their diets, disliking the lemon juiceand dried fruit recommended by shipboard veterans as an antidote to scurvy.

Excerpts from the book by Thomas J. Fleming

ONE SMALL CANDLE

The Pilgrims' First Year In America