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...