A Place in His Heart (16 page)

“Yay, let's go, Joseph.” Ben took off at a run.

“It was my idea, Benjamin, wait.” Jay took off as well.

“I'm sorry for their manners, Miss Terry. We do work on that, but 'tis best, it seems, for Barney to correct them.”

“Yes, he tells me it has been difficult since their mother died.”

Mary shifted. “You have spoken of such things with him?”

“Oh, only a bit, to be sure. He's a wonderful man, is he not?” Her smile evoked a dreaminess that riled Mary.

“Of course I find him to be wonderful. He is my husband. 'Tis something you should remember, perhaps.”

Miss Terry tossed her head. Without a reply, she flounced away.

Rain pattered and wind gusted along the deck. Mary readjusted the makeshift tent that protected the fire. She should put out the fire, but perhaps 'twas just a gust and not a storm.

Before the sun set, the scouting party came into view. Most of the passengers crowded the deck to watch with anticipation. Those who were too ill remained below.

Mary scanned the small group, looking for Barney. Several men carried butchered deer on poles, which they eased to the ground. Others carried armloads of dry wood—a difficult find even in the endless forest, considering the rain that had fallen earlier in the day.

She turned her attention to the men approaching in the shallop. There he was. Even from the distance she could see he sat with reed baskets brimming with the biggest red strawberries she had ever seen and fat corn still in the husks. Her stomach clenched at the sight of food and reminded her how long it had been since they had partaken of fresh food
.

Barney gave her a big wave when their eyes met.

She waved back. “Jay, Ben, wave to your father.”

Ben cupped his hands around his mouth. “May we come down, Father?” He looked as if he might jump over the rail any moment. His shout was carried away by the wind, lost on the
vastness of the ocean and forest, which came together as one on the rugged coast.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Nay, Ben. He cannot hear you. We must wait.”

The three met the scouting party as they came up over the side of the ship. Barney looked so happy, so exhausted. He cradled a berry-laden basket roughly woven of reeds. “Come, let us go to the cabin. I will tell you all about the day. The stories we have heard are indeed true.” His breathing was hard. “We had to take great care to mark the trails we chose. There are many. Some would be deer trails but others surely are made by man. They must belong to Indians living nearby. We did not see any, but they most likely saw us. We have gifts to give them when we do make an encounter.”

“Do you think they are friendly, Father?” Ben's face looked more excited than afraid.

“Mostly, but we have to be careful. We do not need to look for trouble. Some accounts of the Indians to the south have been unfavorable, but for the most part 'tis an internal war between tribes. Nothing for us to fear, I do not think. And like I said, they are to the south.”

They entered the cabin and he brought his family to kneel with him as he offered a blessing to the Lord.

He passed the strawberries to Mary. She held the basket out to Jay and Ben and allowed them to pick several berries first. She then selected a large, bright red berry for herself. She bit into the soft flesh and let the juice dribble on her chin in sheer delight as she closed her eyes. “I have never tasted anything so perfectly wondrous. So sweet, 'tis almost like licking a loaf of sugar. I could eat these every day for the rest of my life.”

Jay nudged her arm and pressed a rag into her hand.

“Nay, Jay. I shall forget my manners for a time.” She proceeded to wipe her chin with her fingers and relished licking the last few sweet droplets.

Barney passed the basket around again. “We found fields of corn, cultivated by Indians, we think, but yet abandoned.”

She set the basket on the table. “How do you know they were abandoned?”

“Most of it was going to waste. Corn rotting on the stalk, plants trampled by what must be elk or deer. We found no evidence of humans nearby. Does not mean they are not out there. Now come, we must put on boots and bring blankets as well. Jeremy told me we are to be on the first shallop to go ashore. Mary, fill your apron with whatever from our stores you might need for our feast. More corn and venison await us on the beach. We will eat well tonight.”

She watched anxiously as Jay and Ben climbed over the side of the ship into the waiting arms of crew aboard the shallop. This was far different from when they boarded
The Swallow
at the port in London. But the promise of solid ground gave Mary the courage to follow them over the side and into the little boat that awaited her. Barney was right behind her.

The shallop made three trips from ship to shore to bring everyone who was able. Weapons and provisions accompanied each run and additional trips brought the remainder of their supplies.

A roaring fire beckoned from the shore, and Mary laughed like a child as she lifted her skirt and splashed the last few feet to the small beach. She dropped to her hands and knees, scooped the sandy soil and held it to her face, breathing in the moist earthiness. They had made it. They were here. Praise be to God. Barney picked her up and swung her about.

Jay and Ben attempted to run up and down the shore, only
to discover their sea legs would not permit it. They expected the ground to sway like the decks of the ship.

“Boys, come here. Your father wants to say a prayer with us.”

Joined in a circle, heads bowed, Barnabas gave thanks for a safe journey, for their health and the abundant food on the shores of this new land. As the waves gently washed the beach with a rhythmic slap, Barney's deep baritone rose above with a hymn.

Mary listened in awe as, one by one, all who were on shore joined in and the strains flowed through the men rowing back to the ship until the music reached those still on board
The Swallow
. As the chain of voices linked, the notes blended in unison, a choir before the Lord.

Men and women worked side by side to feed the fires and prepare the meat. Supper would be a banquet of fire-roasted venison, pheasant, and rabbit. Corn nestled whole in the coals and fresh berries bulged from their baskets. Everyone gathered; only the sickest did not come ashore.

“Mary, I will bring back some of the food to the ship. Some on board will not be able to eat much, they are too ill. But we can make a broth from the meat and bones. Would you gather a meal together before we sup? I'll ready the boat.”

“Barney, may I go with you? I should like to help where I can. And it would be good to see Goodwife Jennings again and her babe.”

“Nay, not in your condition. You need to gather your strength. I understand you want to be of service, but you must take care of yourself first. Wrap up the provisions, and I shall take them.”

She set to work and sent Jay and Ben to deliver the baskets to their father.

She lowered herself to the ground near the fire and clasped her arms around her knees. The voyage had been rife with starvation, illness, and death, and with the storm much longer than planned. But those who survived were safe for now, and while they landed far north of Boston, Jeremy thought they were very close to the port settlement of Winnacunnet. Hopefully, that was a good thing. She peered into the dark forest that edged the beach. Her shoulders shuddered and she looked quickly out to the shallop. Barney promised he would not tarry. She watched the men who stood guard with their muskets. How could she feel so alone with so many around her? God was with her too. She would never be alone.

Women huddled around the fires scattered across the beach, many with young children or babes in their arms. They nodded their recognition to Mary, but their pain and exhaustion were evident. There would be much to do as they settled in to their camp, but she would not forget her pledge to Jeremy to create a place where women felt they could gather and unleash their emotions. They all shared one thing in common: they'd survived crossing the ocean. They could not give up hope now.

She gazed at the flames dancing through the logs. Papa and Lizzie, what would they be doing right now? Would her sister be mixing her dough, the children tucked warm in their beds? Zeke reading from the Bible? Would Papa be sitting next to his fire, his belly already full, and Cook bidding him goodbye for the night? How she missed them and longed for a home where she could be safe and warm. And loved.

Barnabas gave a full report as to how those on board fared and their appreciation for the feast he brought to them. He didn't
want to share with Mary that Goodwife Jennings's babe had died. She'd been present for the baby's birth and she would want to leave the fire and go back to the ship. Mary looked fragile and she needed this time near the fire with some good food.

He watched his wife help the boys fill their bowls. She was a good mother to his children. She had learned much over the years. Pride in her accomplishments filled him. God had been good.

An old familiar ache settled over him. Leaving England should have lessened the pain. But Ann was the one who shared his dream of coming to the New World. How he loved her, and nothing, not even an ocean, would change that.

“Barney?” Mary laid her hand on his arm, but he sat still with no response.

He watched Joseph and Benjamin as they ate. Joseph was in a rare mood, with contentment on his face. Benjamin chattered to no one in particular. He was thankful the boys were so healthy after such a long trip.

He studied Mary and rubbed her dry, weathered hand. She looked too thin. It would not be good for the babe. He rose to cut off another slab of meat and picked up a juicy ear of corn, roasted golden. He sat down next to her and offered the food. “Here, my sweet. Eat some more. Eat well now, we do not know what tomorrow will bring. Not a good thing for you in your condition.”

“Barney, I am about to burst. I cannot eat another bite.”

She was embarrassed, he could tell, but he plunged on. “You're not just eating for yourself now. You must think of the little one.”

“Little one?” Joseph looked from his father to Mary.

Mary's cheeks flushed. “You must not speak like that in front of the children. May we discuss this later?”

“Only if you will eat.” He thrust the plate to her. He looked to his sons. “Your mother is not ready to share this with you. We will give her the time she needs.”

Benjamin looked at his stepmother, wonder in his eyes. “Are you going to have a baby?”

“Barney.” She put her hand on his arm, this time with gentle pressure. “There might not be anything to share. 'Tis not right to bring up such a thing in front of them.”

Barnabas looked into the glow of the fire as he warmed his hands. “You are with child, are you not?”

“I only had the seasickness most everyone had. There is no babe.” She looked from Barnabas to Joseph and Benjamin, her eyes the same soft gray as her simple gown. “I'm sorry, Barney, I know this is not what you want to hear.”

His eyes scanned her belly. “You seemed much sicker than anyone else. I thought you were with child.” He rubbed his forehead with stiff fingers, then gently took her hands. “My apologies. God will give us a child. I cannot imagine not having a houseful someday.” He rubbed her hands, smiled his encouragement. “We are serving God. He will bless us.”

She returned his smile with strength in her eyes. “I pray 'tis true. I pray He blesses us in that way. Whilst I wait for the blessing, I intend to work beside you.”

Later, Jeremy insisted they remain in the cabin that night. He intended to sleep under the stars—close to the fires, musket beside him. Mary and the boys, exhausted from the excitement of the day, settled into their small bed and soon slumbered. Barnabas could not. He sat for long hours on the edge, head buried in his hands as he prayed. His back ached.