Twelve-year-old Edward is not going to America by choice. In fact, he hates the idea! What's a kid to do without friends and his dog? The answer comes soon enough. On board the Mayflower, Edward meets a new friend. Together he and Andrew spy on a sailor who would like to get rid of all Pilgrims. They discover a stow-away with a dog. Stolen food and a threatened duel add to the excitement. Danger lurks. Storms beat against the Mayflower and threaten the voyage. Sickness strikes and Edward, who wants to be a man, must find ways to help his family.

The Reluctant Pilgrim

The Boy, The Ship, and The SeaBy Donna-Vee Scott

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2010 Donna-Vee Scott
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-5208-9

Contents

Chapter One—The Plan.................................1Chapter Two—Lost!....................................13Chapter Three—The Journey Begins.....................19Chapter Four—A Discovery.............................28Chapter Five—Sickness Strikes!.......................32Chapter Six—More Troubles............................37Chapter Seven—Caught!................................43Chapter Eight—Adjustment.............................53Chapter Nine—More Storms.............................62Chapter Ten—Stealth for Health.......................72Chapter Eleven—A Deep Sadness........................81Chapter Twelve—Land At Last..........................87

Chapter One

The Plan

Twelve-year-old Edward lifted the ax high above his head and brought it down with a thud. His arms were thin, but his anger gave him added strength. The ax cut into the huge log, splitting it into two nearly equal parts.

The upsetting scene played over and over again in his mind: that morning, the family had been eating their usual breakfast of porridge and biscuits. In fact, everything had seemed normal, except for the silence that had covered the family like a thick blanket. Generally, conversation was as much a part of mealtime as eating. At breakfast, plans were always laid out for the day, and supper always brought a discussion of the day's activities.

That morning, though, there had been no talk, only stony silence—that is, until something that made Edward even more uncomfortable happened: Father shattered the quiet with an announcement that hit Edward like a sucker punch to his belly, making him feel suddenly nauseated.

"We are going to America. This time we will succeed, I am sure of it." Father spoke as calmly as if he were announcing the day of the week.

Edward could not believe his ears. Had his father lost his mind? Hadn't the previous delays been a sign that they should stay in England? How many tries should one family make?

"Why, Father, why?" Edward asked when he finally found his voice. "It doesn't make sense to—"

His father cut him off sharply. "Are you questioning God's will? It is God who wants us to go!" Father frowned, his thick eyebrows meeting at the top of his nose. He glared at his son.

Edward recoiled at the answer. He had heard it before; Father used that pat answer to defend all their moves, even the one that had taken them to Holland a few years back and again when they returned to England.

Edward turned to his mother. Surely she, too, was tired of moving, but with one glance at her, all of his hopes vanished. He had expected a frown; she was smiling! He had expected tears; there were none, and so he choked back his own. Arguing against one parent was difficult. Arguing against both of them was impossible.

With that thought, he finished chopping wood and piled it neatly next to the door of the small, timber-framed house—his home. Wiping his hands on his breeches, Edward dug his elbows into his thighs and placed his chin in his hands. More thoughts raced through his head.

For one thing, the Speedwell, which had brought them back to England twice because of leaks, was no longer seaworthy. This very fact presented another problem to add to his growing list: with everyone aboard the Mayflower, there would be no room for extras—certainly not a small dog whose chief ambition in life was to play.

He had just started to think about Dash's future when the little Yorkshire Terrier ran past, barking the most vicious bark he could without a single glance at Edward. Only one thing mattered more in Dash's world than Edward, and that was a rabbit. If Dash had his way, the family would be feasting on rabbit stew this very night!

Dash had entered Edward's life upon the family's return to England. Both Mother and Father had agreed that Edward needed a friend to replace the friends he had left behind in Holland. Though no one would ever replace Edward's friend Jan, the boy with round blue eyes and curly blond hair, Dash very quickly had found his own place in Edward's heart. As for Dash himself, he was happy to have found a new home, a new love, and even a new name that seemed to suit this little dog who went through life on the run.

Just then Dash appeared around the corner, his tail between his legs. Rabbit stew would not be on the menu that night.

Instead, supper consisted chiefly of bread and cheese, the usual fare for the family. There was one addition to the evening meal, though—one that soured Edward's stomach like nothing else. The object of his pain was further discussion of the "adventure," as Father liked to call it.

With each bite he took, Father made an additional comment. Edward tried his best to focus on his food. Only when Mother said something did he force himself to listen.

"It is an escape, Edward—an escape to freedom ... religious freedom," Mother said quietly. "As Pilgrims, we can never be free in England. Making a new home in America is your father's will for his family." Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "and God's."

There it was again: God's will. Edward would have liked to insert his own will into this decision. But another word had caught his attention. To escape anything meant excitement, and Edward was always up for that. He enjoyed making up stories in which the hero escaped danger and harm. Even his favorite Bible stories were of heroes like Joseph and Daniel, who found themselves in deep trouble but, with God's help, escaped certain death.

Edward looked at his four-year-old sister, Elizabeth. She was oblivious to everything but her food and her rag doll—an old doll that was now more rag than doll, for Mother had made her even before Edward's birth. ("Just in case the baby is a girl," Mother had said.)

He watched as Elizabeth took one bite and then offered a pretend bite to the doll. "Here, Mary," she would say, placing the spoon against the doll's yarn mouth. "This is for you." Giggling, she would then empty the spoon into her own rosy mouth.

For an instant, Edward wished he could tune out his surroundings, as his sister did. Oh, to be young again, he thought, but quickly changed his mind. No, I wouldn't want to be little again. If I had my way, I'd be a man. Maybe then they would listen to me, to my reasons for wanting to stay in England. Unfortunately, manhood would not come to Edward for almost another year. Thirteen was the magic number, and Edward could not wait.

Suddenly Edward realized his father was speaking to him. "I'm sorry, Father, what did you say?" He tried to maintain a steady voice. To show anger at this point was useless.

Father tried again. "We will be very limited in space, so you can take only one thing other than your clothes with you. It will be a long journey, so choose wisely. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," Edward said, and though his father smiled at him, he could not smile back.

"Elizabeth, you, too, must choose something," Father said, tousling the blond curls of the child sitting next to him. With these final words, Father stood abruptly and left, giving no chance for arguments and protests.

Edward gave an audible sigh of relief. At least the day was ending better than it started: family prayers had been forgotten.

After a restless sleep, Edward woke up tired and reluctant to join the family for breakfast. His father scowled as Edward approached the table; Elizabeth and Mother were seated in their usual places, waiting. As Edward took his seat on the wooden bench across from Elizabeth, his father said abruptly, "Let's pray!" In unison, all four heads bowed, but Edward could not help sneaking a peek, first at his parents and then at his sister.

"O Lord," his father prayed, "we thank you especially for this food you have so generously provided. Today we also thank you in advance for the freedom we will enjoy in the new land, America. Thank you for guiding us there. Bless this family, and may our will always be in line with your own. In your glorious name we pray. Amen."

No one spoke another word for several minutes. Usually it was Father who started every table conversation, and at this particular moment, he preferred silence.

Edward was just finishing his porridge when Father finally spoke. "Well, children, did you give much thought to what we talked about yesterday?"

It was Elizabeth who spoke first. "Yes, Father," she said, her wide grin showing the deep dimples on each cheek. "Mary's going with me!" She lifted the doll so that she could look straight into Mary's button eyes.

"Why am I not surprised?" Father said with a chuckle. "I'm sure there will be plenty of room for Mary, and she won't even eat too much." He laughed again before turning to Edward.

"Well, son," he said, "what is it you wish to take along?"

Edward squirmed on the bench. Suddenly his mouth felt dry, and he cleared his throat before speaking. "I've decided to take Dash!" he said as brightly as he could.

Mother let out a gasp, and Father shook his head—slowly at first but more rapidly with every passing second. Edward simply sat there, wishing for approval but knowing he would find none. Without a word being said, he knew his plan was doomed.

"I'm afraid not!" Father's tone was harsh. "We have to take enough food for the entire voyage. Your mother will bake several loaves of bread, but when they are gone, we'll have no more until we reach America."

These words caught Elizabeth's attention. She loved her bread, and upon hearing there would be a shortage, she voiced her objection. "No, Father," she said quite confidently, "Mother will have enough bread for us. She always does."

"Not this time," was Father's quick reply. "You see, Mother will not be able to bake on the Mayflower."

"Why?" the little girl asked.

"Because, dear child," Father explained, "there can be no baking on board the Mayflower."

"But why?" the little girl asked.

"Because if there were a fire on board, the ship and everyone and everything in it would be in danger."

Father continued, "We'll have a little dried fruit and some smoked meat, but chances are we'll all be just a little hungry on the voyage." Turning to Edward, he added, "There is no way we would have enough food for Dash. I am sure one of your friends will be glad to have him. He's a handsome pup." With that he petted the little terrier, who was lying on the bench beside Edward.

Edward knew this was the time to behave like a man, but he just could not stop the tear that coursed its way down his freckled cheek. He brushed it away as quickly as he brushed away his father's words. He would take Dash along. He would. He did not like disobeying his parents, but this time it was disobey or lose Dash. To him the choice was obvious.

In the days that followed, Edward's thoughts focused on his dog and how to get him on board. For one thing, he could pester his father until Father finally relented and changed his mind. He quickly threw that idea aside, for he knew his father would never put up with such nonsense. Instead, his father would have some strong words for his son, followed by a whipping. Edward would not take that risk.

At one point, he thought of going to the captain of the Mayflower and asking him to adopt the pup on the voyage. It was another idea he discarded, for the captain would have enough problems of his own. He did not need the added burden of a dog.

He thought of many ways to hide the dog; for one reason or another, he ruled out each one. He was getting desperate. Time was running out!

* * *

It was Friday, just four days before they were to sail. Edward's mood was as dark as the rainy day. He decided to make one person happy.

"Elizabeth," he called, "how about a game of All Hid here in the house?"

"Okay," came the quick reply. Elizabeth loved playing with her big brother.

Elizabeth hid first. As Edward counted, he knew his sister was crawling under their parents' bed. It was where she usually hid, but for a while, Edward pretended that he could not find her.

Elizabeth got impatient and called out, "Edward, I'm here!"

When it was Edward's turn, he crawled under the table, covering himself with a blanket. Dash sat beside the table and barked loudly.

As she pulled the blanket away, revealing a smiling Edward, Elizabeth pouted. "Dash found you. I didn't. If Dash is going to play, I'm going to quit."

Before Edward could argue with her, Mother entered the house carrying a vessel of cold milk. She placed the vessel on the table and skimmed the cream off the top. Next she poured the cream into the churn and called Edward. "Time to make some butter, son. You keep churning until the job is done. I have a lot of other things to do." With that Mother sat down and began to sew.

Edward didn't mind in the least. He was glad the game had ended so abruptly. The smell of fresh bread filled the house, and he could scarcely wait to bite into a slice that was generously covered with fresh butter.

As he worked, Edward watched his mother sew. How quickly the needle moved in and out of the material!

"What are you making now, Mother?" he asked.

"Nothing for you this time," Mother answered with a smile. "You have your two new breeches, and now it's a dress for Elizabeth."

"Oh, Mother," Elizabeth exclaimed, "it's beautiful!" She gently touched the blue fabric.

Edward glanced from his mother's quick fingers to the large basket at her feet. Slowly, a new plan took shape.

Yes, he was sure this plan would work!

Travel day, a day that Edward had hoped would never come, dawned dark and gray. Crawling out from under his blanket, Edward stood on his mattress and looked out the small window of the room he shared with Elizabeth. A light mist was falling, typical of English weather. While Edward found himself wondering about weather in the new land, he felt something soft at his ankle and realized Dash, too, had started his day.

"We're going on a trip today," Edward said, lifting Dash and burying his face in the warm fur.

He went over the plan once more. Edward could think of no other workable plan to keep Dash with the family. Father would expect him to take Dash to his friend's house shortly after breakfast. Instead he would take Dash into the woods and tie him there. Later, when Mother and Father attended their prayer meeting, he would bring the dog back and hide him in Mother's sewing basket.

Breakfast was a solemn affair. There was no porridge, only small portions of bread that had begun to mold. No one spoke a word. No one smiled. They just sat there, looking at their bread. Edward looked at Elizabeth. She was poking her fingers into the bread as she clung to her doll. Even the doll, Mary, looked sad today. Father finally took a bite and chewed it with his mouth open. He always ate like that, and today Edward found it particularly annoying.

When Father had finished and excused himself, Mother spoke for the first time. "Edward," she said, "you better eat something. You'll need your strength."

"I'm not hungry today," Edward answered, adding to himself, I may never be hungry again—not if my plan doesn't work! As he studied his mother's face, he knew that she, too, was struggling with this final breakfast at home.

Home, Edward thought. I wonder where the next one will be ... and for how long.

"I need to take Dash for a walk," Edward said quietly. Getting up from the bench, he called to Dash and left the house.

Woods surrounded their house, and Edward soon felt quite alone—alone except for Dash. He would not be going to his friend's house, as his mother supposed; he had said good-bye to Brian the day before. This day was for him and Dash together—as far as he was concerned, anyway.

Sitting on the stump of an old tree, Edward petted Dash. "Oh, Dash." He sighed. "I'm going to have to leave you here, but I'll come back as soon as I can. Do you understand?" Dash barked and wagged his tail.

Leaning down, Edward idly picked up a stick and threw it. Dash bolted off to fetch it. Seconds later he returned, tail wagging, stick in his mouth. Edward wanted to keep playing, but he knew time was running out; in fact, life as he knew it was passing from him. "I'll throw it once more," he said, "and then I have to go." His eyes filled with tears as he picked up the stick and rubbed his fingers along the teeth marks. He threw the stick hard.

This time, when Dash came back, Edward picked up his little pet and gave him one last hug. Taking the rope, he carefully placed it around the dog's neck, making sure it was tight enough that Dash could not slip away but loose enough that there was no danger of choking the poor, unsuspecting animal.

"Sorry, Dash, but I have to do this. It's the only way we can stay together."

Edward wrapped the other end of the rope around a large oak and repeated his promise to Dash. "I'll come for you soon!" he said.

Dash began to bark as Edward turned his back on his dog and headed for home. The barks seemed to shatter the quiet woods, but all too soon, they faded. As Edward ran for home, he had one thought, one prayer: that Dash would forgive him.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Reluctant Pilgrimby Donna-Vee Scott Copyright © 2010 by Donna-Vee Scott. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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