Chapter VIII

Departure from Southampton, and Delay of both Ships at Dartmouth and Plymouth: August and September, 1620.

Having thus put to sea, they had not gone far when Mr. Reynolds, the captain of the smaller ship, complained that he found her so leaky that he dare not go further till she was mended. So the captain of the bigger ship, Mr. Jones, being consulted with, they both resolved to put into Dartmouth and have her mended, which accordingly was done, at great expense and loss of time and a fair wind. She was here thoroughly searched from stem to stern, some leaks were found and mended, and it was then believed that she might proceed without danger. So with good hope they put to sea again, thinking they would go comfortably on, not looking for any more hindrances of this kind. But after they had gone 100 leagues beyond Land’s End holding together all the while, the captain of the small ship again complained that she was so leaky that he must bear up or sink at sea, for they could scarcely keep her afloat by pumping. So they consulted again, and both ships resolved to bear up again and put into Plymouth, which accordingly was done. No special leak could be found, but it was judged to be the general weakness of the ship, and that she would not prove equal to the voyage. Upon which it was resolved to dismiss her, and part of the company, and proceed with the other ship; which, though it caused great discouragement, was put into execution. So after they had taken out such provisions as the other ship could well stow, and decided what persons to send back, they made another sad parting, the one ship going back to London, and the other proceeding on her voyage. Those that went back were mostly such as were willing to do so, either from discontent or fear of the ill success of the voyage, seeing they had met with so many crosses and the year was so far spent. Others, owing to their weakness and having many young children, were thought least useful and most unfit to bear the brunt of this arduous adventure; to which work of God and the judgment of their brethren they were contented to submit. And thus, like Gideon’s army, this small number was divided, as if the Lord thought these few too many for the great work He had to do.

It was afterwards found that the leakiness of the ship was partly caused by being overmasted and too much pressed with sail; for after she was sold and put into trim she made many voyages, to the profit of her owners. But it was partly due to the cunning and deceit of the captain and his crew, who had been hired to stay a whole year at the Settlement, and now, fearing want of victuals, they plotted this stratagem to free themselves, as was afterwards confessed by some of them. Yet in order to encourage the captain the majority of those who had come from Leyden had been put aboard this ship, to content him. But so strong was self-love that he forgot all duty and former kindnesses, and dealt thus falsely with them, though he pretended otherwise.

Amongst those who returned was Mr. Cushman and his family, whose heart and courage had failed them before. He was assistant to Mr. Martin, who was governor in the bigger ship. I insert here a passionate letter he wrote to a friend in London from Dartmouth, whilst the ship lay there mending, which, besides the expression of his own fears, shows how the providence of God was working for their good beyond man’s expectations, and other things concerning their condition in these straits. And though it discloses some infirmities in him (as who under temptation is free), he afterwards continued to be a special instrument for their good, and performed the offices of a loving friend and faithful brother to them, and was a partaker of much comfort with them.

_Robert Cushman at Dartmouth to Edward Southworth, at Heanage
House, Duke’s Place, London._

Loving Friend,

My most kind remembrances to you and your wife, with loving E. M.,
etc., whom in this world I never look to see again. For beside the
imminent dangers of this voyage, which are no less than deadly, an
infirmity has seized me which will not in all likelihood leave me
till death. What to call it I know not; but it is, as it were, a
bundle of lead crushing my heart more and more these fourteen days,
so that though I perform the actions of a living man I am but as
dead; but the will of God be done.

Our pinnace will not cease leaking, else I think we had been half
way to Virginia. Our voyage hither has been as full of crosses as
ourselves have been of crookedness. We put in here to trim her, and
I think if we had stayed at sea but three or four hours more she
would have sunk. And though she was twice trimmed at Southampton
she is still as open and leaky as a sieve. We lay at Southampton
seven days, in fair weather, waiting for her; and now we lie here
waiting for her in as fair a wind as can blow, and so have done
these four days, and are likely to lie four more, and by that time
the wind may have turned as it did at Southampton. Our victuals
will be half eaten up, I think, before we leave the coast of
England, and if our voyage last long we shall not have a month’s
victuals when we arrive. Nearly £700 has been spent in Southampton,
upon what I know not. Mr. Martin says he neither can nor will give
any account of it; and if he is called upon for accounts he cries
out that we are ungrateful for his pains and care, and that we are
suspicious of him. Also he insults our poor people, and treats them
with scorn and contempt, as if they were not good enough to wipe
his shoes. It would break your heart to hear the mourning of our
poor people. They complain to me, and alas! I can do nothing for
them. If I speak to him he flies in my face as mutinous, and says
no complaints shall be heard or received but by himself, and they
are forward, waspish, and discontented people. There are others
who would gladly lose all they have put in, or make satisfaction
for what they have had, if they might only depart; but he will
not listen to them or allow them to go ashore lest they should run
away. The sailors, too, are so annoyed at his ignorant boldness, in
meddling with things he knows nothing of, that some threaten to do
him mischief. He makes himself a laughing stock.

As for Mr. Weston, unless grace is with him he will hate us
ten times more than ever he loved us, for not confirming the
conditions. Now that they have met some reverses they begin to see
the truth, and say Mr. Robinson was at fault to tell them never to
consent to those conditions, or put me in office. But he and they
will rue it too late. Four or five of the chief of them from Leyden
came resolved never to go on those conditions. Mr. Martin said he
never received any money on those conditions, and that he was not
beholden to the merchants for a pin; that they were blood-suckers,
and I know not what. Simple man, he indeed never made any
conditions with the merchants, nor ever spoke with them. But did
all that money fly to Southampton, or was it his own? Who would go
and lay out money so rashly and lavishly as he did, and never know
how he comes by it or on what conditions? Secondly, I told him of
the alterations long ago, and he was content; but now he domineers,
and says I betrayed them into the hands of slave-drivers; he is
not beholden to them; he can fit out two ships himself for a
voyage—when he has only £50 worth of shares in the venture, and if
he gave in his accounts he would not have a penny left, as I am
persuaded.

Friend, if ever we establish a colony, God works a miracle;
especially considering how scanty our provisions will be and most
of all how disunited we are among ourselves, and devoid of good
leaders. Violence will break all. Where is the meek and humble
spirit of Moses and of Nehemiah, who re-edified the walls of
Jerusalem and the state of Israel? Is not the sound of Rehoboam’s
bragging daily among us here? Have not the philosophers and all
wise men observed, that even in settled commonwealths violent
governors bring either themselves or people or both to ruin? How
much more in the building of commonwealths, when the mortar is
scarcely hardened which is to bind the walls. If I were to write
you everything that foreruns our ruin, I should overcharge my weak
head and grieve your tender heart; only this,—prepare for evil
tidings of us every day. But pray for us instantly. It may be the
Lord may yet be entreated.

I see not how in reason we can escape the gasping of hunger-starved
persons; but God can do much, and His will be done. It is better
for me to die now than to bear it. Poor William King and I strive
who shall first be meat for the fishes; but we look for a glorious
resurrection, knowing Christ Jesus after the flesh no more; but,
looking unto the joy that is before us, we will endure all these
things and account them light in comparison of the joy we hope for.
Remember me in all love to our friends, as if I named them, whose
prayers I desire earnestly, and wish again to see, but not till I
can look them in the face with more comfort. The Lord give us that
true comfort which none can take from us. I desired to send a brief
account of our condition to some friend. I doubt not but you will
know when to speak a word in season. What I have written is true,
and much more which I have foreborne to mention. I write it as upon
my life and my last confession in England. What you deem well to
mention at once, you may speak of; and what is best to conceal,
conceal. Excuse my weak manner, for my head is weak and my body is
feeble. The Lord make me strong in Him, and keep both you and yours.

Your loving friend,
ROBERT CUSHMAN.
_Dartmouth, Aug. 17th, 1620._

These being his fears at Dartmouth, they must needs be much stronger when he arrived at Plymouth.