Mistress Bradstreet (14 page)

The idea that it was correct to weep and sigh upon departure was shared by most Puritan emigrants. For example, Thomas Shepard reported that he spent a good deal of time loudly “lamenting the loss of our native country.”
²⁶
Visible grief helped prove the point of the Puritans’ self-sacrifice. Not that their tears were a ploy, but if they cried loudly and publicly enough, their virtue could be more easily established by all who witnessed their sadness. For Anne it must have been a relief to have a sanctioned time and place to vent her sorrow at leaving England.

Even Dudley, Winthrop, and the other leaders of the company who attempted to comfort their wives and daughters could not refrain from tears. Winthrop was heartbroken to be leaving his wife and small children behind and sobbed at the thought of never seeing them again.
²⁷

When the sailors began to hoist the sails and haul up the anchor, notch by notch, the passengers barely noticed. It was not until the entry planks were thrown aboard and stacked onto the top deck, the great flap of the canvas began to fill with wind, and the shouts of the men drowned out their cries that Anne, her friends, and family realized what was happening. At last the
Arbella,
closely followed by her three companion vessels, was off, charting a course through Southampton Water, the river that emptied out into The Solent, and then unfurling her sails when she reached the wide channel that led to the open sea. In a matter of hours they arrived at the Isle of Wight. It was Easter Sunday, March 27, 1630, and their pilgrimage had begun.

Chapter Eight

The Crossing

He that is to sail into a far country, although the ship, cabin, and provision be all convenient and comfortable for him, yet he hath no desire to make that his place of residence.

—
ANNE BRADSTREET
,
“Meditation 53”

T
HE NEXT DAY SEEMED
to bode well for the beginning of this momentous voyage to America. The wind was from the north, and the four ships enjoyed a brisk sail to Yarmouth with the lines stretched tight and the spray kicking up a fine white trail behind them. As they neared the town, Dudley and the others were surprised to catch sight of a weary-looking ship, the
Plantation,
at anchor after limping home from Virginia. The safe return of this vessel seemed like yet another good omen for their own journey, and immediately they lowered their sails, came to a rest, and “saluted” the other ship by firing a shot from their cannon. The
Plantation
returned the signal, and to the great excitement of Anne and her family, the vessel’s captain, a Mr. Graves, rowed over to the
Arbella
and stayed to talk for most of the afternoon.
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It was the first opportunity many of the Puritan leaders had had to meet and ask questions of a man who had been to America, and so they listened avidly to his reports of the weather, the conditions in the southern colonies, and the gales he encountered on the Atlantic. Anne did not get to hear him firsthand, but it was reassuring for all the passengers to see that after braving the Atlantic in both directions, the veteran captain seemed not only unscathed but eager to sail for the New World again. While Dudley, Winthrop, Simon, and Captain Milbourne crowded around Mr. Graves in the roundhouse, however, the winds were beginning to shift to the southwest, a bad sign.

That night the weather continued to spiral downward, and when Anne woke the next morning, the wind was still to the west. At first the sky glittered clear and bright, but as the day drew on, clouds began to crowd overhead. Wisely, Captain Milbourne steered the great ship closer to Yarmouth for shelter, and soon Anne and her sisters could see the famous castle that loomed square, squat, and gray up on the cliffs, a last reminder of everything they were leaving behind. Built by Henry VIII, this structure bared its teeth at the Catholic world and was armed with three huge cannons. All too soon there would be no more evidence of England’s glorious history, and many of the passengers peered mournfully over the ship’s sides at this last evidence of civilization.

During the afternoon and evening, the weather continued to worsen, and so Captain Milbourne ordered the sailors to batten down any loose boards and ropes and sailed the ship even nearer to shore. The other three ships in their party followed suit. Anne and the other women were uneasy. Although no one, except perhaps Winthrop and Dudley, was looking forward to an Atlantic crossing, delay frayed people’s nerves, particularly after the tremendous effort of preparation.

Just as they slid into their new anchorage, the storm broke over their heads, and an awful sight greeted those passengers who still braved the pelting rain on the deck. The skeletal outline of a great ship loomed high and bony against the horizon. This Dutch vessel, which at one thousand tons was more than three times the size of their own, had come to grief attempting to thread its way through the treacherous rocky passage that was the next leg of the
Arbella
’s journey.

The Needles stood almost one hundred feet in the air and were visible from the harbor at Yarmouth. Formed out of chalky sediment, they were astonishingly white, like glaciers, and steepled up to viciously pointed tips. What was worse was what you could not see: Beneath the water hid a treacherous comb of teeth that routinely sliced open the hulls of big and small vessels alike. The tides were fierce here, and if the wind dropped, all hope was lost, since the current could suck even the largest ship onto the jagged rocks.
²

As the winds grew stronger and their own ship was thrown up and down on the waves, Anne must have prayed that they would escape the Dutch ship’s fate, or worse. Meanwhile, the Puritan leaders were concerned with the portent of the storm. Was God on their side or not? With this first taste of their frailty, it was hard to imagine that they would survive their ocean passage, although in actuality the voyage was far safer than it seemed. Only one ship, the
Angel Gabriel,
would come to grief during the 198 recorded crossings in the 1630s.
³

Anne had little choice but to join the other women. It was her duty to help her mother and fourteen-year-old Patience oversee the younger girls, particularly twelve-year-old Sarah, who had never been as compliant as little Mercy, only ten. When left to her own devices, Sarah would probably have enjoyed poking her head into parts of the ship that gently raised, pious young girls should have shunned. For the next three days, storm fronts tore in and out of southern England, throwing the miserable passengers down if they attempted to walk or stand, pitching them to and fro in their rudimentary quarters, and drenching all aboard, especially the ill-tempered sailors, who swore bitterly while they thundered up and down the ladders, making sure all was fast.

Conditions down below were terrible, a foul and fetid world. Passengers from all walks of life were forced together. Sleeping hammocks hung in every available nook and cranny. The passengers were separated from their belongings, since their chests and trunks were stored in the bowels of the ship. Only wealthy individuals were allowed to have a small box of personal possessions, such as food and warm, dry clothes; poor people did without such conveniences. The stench was already nauseating, as the passengers, unused to the bucking of the ship, suffered immediately from the miseries of “spewing”—their term for vomiting—and it was impossible to wash away the heaps of human waste during a storm. People lived in danger of breaking a limb or suffering severe contusions thanks to the tossing of the ship. Like most of the women, Anne likely became, as one traveler said, “seasick and mazy and light in head, and so could scarce go out without falling.”
⁴
Even the most resolute had to admit that to begin a voyage this way tested everyone’s commitment to the expedition.

In desperation, the leaders called for a penitential fast, not that most of the passengers felt like eating. While the others prayed, sang psalms, and called out for forgiveness from their Lord, some of the devout caught hold of two of the sailors who had “prized a rundlet of strong water [rum], and stole some of it.” This kind of sinful behavior was shocking, but here also lay some hope. Perhaps it was this crime that had brought the wrath of God down on their heads; if so, the violent punishment of the men’s misdeeds might right things with the Lord. Immediately, Winthrop and Dudley decreed that the offending men be “laid . . . in bolts all the night” and in the morning be “openly whipped, and both kept with bread and water that day.”
⁵
After the men had been punished, no one was surprised to see that the weather promptly changed for the better. God had clearly taken the storms away once they had cleansed the ship of crime.

Even though the sky had brightened, the sea continued to heave, and the passengers still had to cling to each other and the sides of the ship to keep their balance. It took four days before the water had quieted enough to walk and stand safely on deck, and the sailors used this time to repair the broken timbers and ripped sails. Dudley, Winthrop, Isaac Johnson, and the other leaders of the expedition spent these extra hours composing a letter that announced their intentions to the rest of England. Undeterred by the fact that most of their fellow countrymen were largely unaware of their departure, these Puritans felt that their exodus warranted the attention of all posterity.

The document they created is known to us as “A Humble Request.” The emigrants wanted to defend their actions against the criticism of those Puritans who had chosen to stay in England and to right any rumors that might “misreport [their] intentions.” For example, unlike the Pilgrims, Dudley and his friends declared that, far from abandoning the Anglican Church and rebelling against the king, it was their “honor to call the Church of England, from whence we rise, our dear mother.” Their leave-taking, they proclaimed, was not therefore a joyous occasion but instead one that occasioned “much sadness of heart and many tears in our eyes.”
⁶

Such sacrifice surely required the sympathy, if not the admiration, of those who were left behind. Of course, this was where the missive was not so humble. It was painful to leave and had cost most of the emigrants their fortunes, but the hardships they expected to endure and had already undergone were forging them into better Christians. In fact, all humility aside, Anne’s father and his friends felt they held a sort of righteous supremacy over the stay-at-homes in England. That afternoon they sent their letter ashore, where it would be copied and passed around from town to town, inspiring other like-minded men and women to join them in the New World.

Naturally, Anne and the other ladies did not get to participate in the heady experience of writing this document. Instead, shaken by the storm, and with Yarmouth so tantalizingly close, Anne, Arbella, and the other gentlewomen “went on shore,” as Winthrop reported, “to refresh” themselves.
⁷
Safely on the soil of Yarmouth, surrounded by the green hills and rocky outcroppings of the island, they found the steadiness of the land a pleasure after the first few days on the vessel. The daffodils were in their full-belled glory, the apple and pear trees were about to blossom, and tucked here and there in the rocky crevices, the women could find tiny lavender forget-me-nots. It was too picturesque to seem real, and all the more poignant because they would soon be leaving it behind. The seamen had finished repairing the damage done to the
Arbella
from the storm and had declared the ship ready to make passage past The Needles, out of the English Channel, and into the vast Atlantic.

About six the next morning, “the wind being E and N and fair weather,” the
Arbella
“weighed anchor and set sail.” This time, the passengers hoped, there would be no more delays.
⁸
It was April 8 and the perfect time of year to be setting forth for America. The next day “a merry gale” brought the travelers as far as Portland, and as the Isle of Wight slipped away from view, the passengers began to settle into their new life aboard ship. When they emerged from the channel, however, their tentative feelings of comfort proved to be premature. Eight strange vessels suddenly loomed on the horizon. No one recognized their sails. Perhaps these were Spanish Catholics or ruthless Turkish pirates. The captain sent messengers off in longboats to alert the others in their fleet to the threat, while the crew scurried to prepare the
Arbella
for an attack. The “powder-chests and fireworks” were “made ready” and “the hammocks were taken down.” Twenty-five of the “landsmen” were “appointed for muskets,” and when it became clear that the menacing ships were advancing, Dudley, Winthrop, and the captain decided to turn and face their enemies. It was time, they declared, “to fight.”
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As Anne and the other women watched, the sailors ripped down the makeshift cabins that the Puritans had constructed on the decks and cleared everything out of the way that could burn or trip up a soldier during battle. Soon even the ladies joined in the effort, and Winthrop reported that “out of every ship were thrown such bed matters as were subject to take fire.”
¹⁰
For Anne and her sisters, it was probably difficult to part with the bolsters and spare blankets they had brought to protect against the cold and damp, but fling them overboard they did, the linens and canvas ballooning into the air and then sinking irretrievably.

In the midst of this flurry, the captain “for an experiment” decided to shoot “a ball of wild-fire fastened to an arrow out of a cross bow which burnt in the water a good time.” Everyone hoped that the approaching strangers would take note of their firepower and their courage. The little fleet might be half the size of the pirates’, but they were ready to defend themselves. Undeterred by Milbourne’s show of force, however, the strange ships skated steadily forward. It seemed clear that the invaders were intent on engaging them in battle. The sailors stood ready at the sails, the men nervously shouldered their firearms, and the women were sent below. Arbella, Anne, and Dorothy said prayers and tried not to give way to weeping and desperation. Their brave example must have inspired the others, for Winthrop commented that “not a woman or child . . . showed fear.”
¹¹