With the welcome day the north-west wind went down, and the sun added its warmth to the fire. They were pleased to find themselves upon an island, and they used that Saturday to dry out their soaked belongings and prepare their muskets, while taking a good look at the harbor. On a rock upon this Clarke's Island, are the words inscribed from their record, "On the Sabboth day wee rested." And with grateful joy they held their customary service, in the shelter of the boulder. Monday they sounded the harbor, as Bradford relates, and found it fit for shipping. Then they landed, bringing the boat by a large rock, whence they could more conveniently step ashore. The place proved uninhabited, but with desirable clearings, showing signs of rather recent occupancy. Marching about, they discovered the various natural advantages, including a number of brooks. They were satisfied that the location would be suitable for settlement. So passed December 21, our Forefathers' Day. It was good news which this advance party brought back to the Mayflower, and they all prepared to come to Plymouth, as they called it, because it had already been so named by Captain John Smith a few years before; and thus they also remembered the old Plymouth where they last beheld England, and were kindly entertained. Sad intelligence, however, awaited William Bradford. His wife Dorothy May, doubtless oppressed with loneliness in his absence, perhaps pensively and by herself looking for his return at the high stern's rail near the ladies' cabins, in weariness and weakness might easily have fallen asleep as in a rolling cradle, especially if seeking the relief of the salt ozone after nausea. In such case losing her balance, she fell overboard and was drowned, probably the stern's height making the water's concussion sufficient to produce instantaneous unconsciousness. On Christmas Day in our reckoning, the fifteenth in theirs, the Mayflower set sail for Plymouth, but contrary winds beat her back to her old anchorage. Next day, Saturday, the attempt was successful, barely; for within half an hour after arrival an adverse gale sprang up outside. But the sickle-shaped harbor held them safely. The long voyage was ended at last, a few days before the second decade of the seventeenth century closed. It went out in a cold rain-storm, with the life of another Pilgrim, for mortality had already commenced. Furious winds and driving rain, again deep snow followed by bitter cold, with consequent increase of sickness, hindered the colonists in their efforts to build log houses there in the dead of winter.