The welcome spring came at length, and “the birds sang in the woods
most pleasantly.” The health of the colony began somewhat to improve,
but there was still much suffering to endure. The summer passed not
unprosperously. They had taken possession of the deserted clearings of
the Indians, and had no difficulty in providing themselves with food.
But in the autumn came a ship with a new company of Pilgrims. This
was very encouraging; but unhappily the ship brought no provisions,
and the supplies of the colonists were not sufficient for this
unexpected addition. For six months there was only half allowance to
each. Such straits recurred frequently during the first two or three
years. Often the colonists knew not at night “where to have a bit in
the morning.” Once or twice the opportune arrival of a ship saved
them from famishing. They suffered much, but their cheerful trust in
Providence and in their own final triumph never wavered. They faced the
difficulties of their position with undaunted hearts. Slowly but surely
the little colony struck its roots and began to grow.
* * * * *
The years which followed the coming of the Pilgrims were years through
which good men in England found it bitter to live. Charles I. was upon
the throne; Laud was Archbishop of Canterbury. Bigotry as blind and
almost as cruel as England had ever seen thus sat in her high places.
Dissent from the Popish usages, which prevailed more and more in the
Church, was at the peril of life. A change was near. John Hampden was
farming his lands in Buckinghamshire. A greater than he--his cousin,
Oliver Cromwell--was leading his quiet rural life at Huntingdon, not
without many anxious and indignant thoughts about the evils of his
time. John Milton was peacefully writing his minor poems, and filling
his mind with the learning of the ancients. The Men had come, and the
Hour was at hand. But as yet King Charles and Archbishop Laud had it
all their own way. They fined and imprisoned every man who ventured
to think otherwise than they wished him to think: they slit his nose,
they cut off his ears, they gave him weary hours in the pillory. They
ordered that men should not leave the kingdom without the King’s
permission. Eight ships lay in the Thames, with their passengers on
board, when that order was given forth. The soldiers cleared the ships,
and the poor emigrants were driven back, in poverty and despair, to
endure the misery from which they were so eager to escape.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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