Dear Americans of the 21st century,
Greetings. I am William Bradford of the Separatists, commonly called the Pilgrims by you Americans of the future. Our story begins in England in 1606 when I was but an orphan boy of sixteen, being raised by my uncle in a church of Separatists.
Why were we called Separatists? Because we had separated from the Church of England, which had separated some sixty-five years earlier from the Catholic Church in order to satisfy the carnal desires of then King Henry the Eighth. The Church of England held to a form of godliness, but denied His power. Much like the Pharisees of old, its ministers gave lip-service to God, but in truth worshipped money and the praises of men. Many of us within the church found it impossible to know, worship, and serve our Lord Jesus Christ within such settings—and so we separated ourselves and formed our own churches.
At first the Church of England ministers laughed at us. We had no income from the royal treasury, no official recognition, and no church buildings. They thought we could not survive without them. But survive we did, as our humble churches began to attract more and more converts who wanted to know our Lord Jesus Christ in a personal way. Many people began to leave the established church to join us. The mocking Church of England ministers became alarmed and took steps to stop us. They used their influence with the king and parliament to pass laws requiring all ministers to be licensed by the state in order to preach. To obtain such licenses, our ministers were required to swear allegiance to the Church of England. When they refused and preached anyway, armed soldiers came and threw them into prison where they were tortured. Some were banished from England and some were even put to death. We began to meet in private homes, but the soldiers relentlessly pursued us.
Though we loved our king and our native England, we loved God more and our leaders began to look for another land that would allow us to worship Him in freedom. At that time Holland was the most religiously tolerant country in Europe. And so, in 1608 we left England to settle in the Dutch city of Leyden.
True indeed, the Dutch left us alone to worship as we pleased. But as Englishmen, we were only able to obtain the most menial, low paying jobs. Then too, we found our children growing accustomed to the worldly ways of the Dutch and learning their language to the detriment of our own.
As the years passed, I grew into full manhood and was judged by my fellow Separatists to be counted among the leaders of our band. Along with Pastor John Robinson, Elder William Brewster and others, we began looking for another place to settle. Returning to England was impossible, for in 1618 our king had declared that all Puritans and Separatists refusing to conform to Church of England authority were no longer welcome in England. By 1619 we knew that neither staying in Holland nor resettling in England was an option. Where could we go to find full religious freedom? Where could we go to set up our own government based upon Christian principles?
As we prayed to our God and cried out for wisdom, the New World came increasingly upon our hearts. And so, in the middle of September, 1620 one hundred and two of us crowded onto a ship called the Mayflower and set out for our new home across the great ocean.
There was a young sailor aboard the ship who took an extreme dislike to us. He called us “land lubbing, psalm singing puke-stockings” and said that he could hardly wait to begin throwing our bodies overboard so he could make merry with our belongings. This went on for a number of days until he suddenly took ill with a violent fever and shortly after died, becoming himself the first to be cast overboard. Rightly judging it to be the hand of God, the other sailors began to treat us with more respect.
Only days out of England the storms came up and the mountainous North Atlantic seas forced us below decks. There we stayed crowded together for five long weeks, cold and wet in foul air and miserably seasick.
One of our number, John Howland decided he could stand the crowded stench no longer. Against orders he went topside to get some fresh air and was almost immediately swept overboard. At the last instant he reached out his arms and by God’s grace caught hold of some rope netting hanging over the side of the ship. One of the sailors spotted him and the crew managed to pull him back aboard. He was sick for several days afterwards and never disobeyed our orders again.
The storms were fearsome and we began to despair of ever setting our feet on dry land again. A party of us went to the ship’s captain, Christopher Jones, to voice our concerns. He informed us that the Mayflower had seen worse and survived. He was pretty sure she would weather this tempest too. Thus assured, we returned to our place below decks.
But then an ominous crack appeared in the cross beam that supported the main mast. It began to sag dangerously. Were it to snap completely, the ship would quickly crumple and sink beneath the waves, taking us all, saints and sinners alike, to a watery grave. What would become of our vision to set up a city on a hill—a beacon to shine to the whole world, showing that it was possible for men to live in freedom and harmony through the power of Jesus Christ?
Captain Jones himself inspected the damage. From the worried look on his face we knew that the problem was serious.
We did the only thing we knew to do. We cried out to the God of heaven above. While we prayed, William Brewster remembered the great iron screw of his printing press. We located the press and placed it below the beam. Then we turned the screw to raise its top until it came in contact with the sagging beam. We continued cranking until it lifted the beam back to its proper position. Now even the sailors joined us in thanksgiving to our God.
On November ninth we heard the call “land ho” and there was great rejoicing. On the voyage over we had lost but one of our number. Young William Button had refused to drink lemon juice because he hated the sour taste. And so, he took to scurvy and died.
Before going ashore, we drew up and signed what is known as the Mayflower Compact. “Having undertaken, for the glory of God and the advancement of the Christian faith…a voyage to plant the first colony in the northern parts of Virginia, we do solemnly pledge ourselves to one another in a body of civil politic for the better ordering and preservation of our colony, to which we all pledge submission and obedience.”
We thanked God for safely bringing us across the vast and furious ocean to set our feet again on firm and stable earth, our proper element. But alas, the summer was gone and winter was upon us. We had no friends to welcome us and refresh our weather-beaten bodies. We had no houses or towns to shelter us. The whole country before us was filled with woods and thickets and represented a wild and savage hue. To our backs was the mighty ocean from which we had passed. What could now sustain us but the Spirit of God and His grace?
We found a harbor which we called Plimoth and there began to set up our colony. During that time my dear wife Dorothy somehow fell over the side of the ship and was drowned. Though her loss grieved me deeply, I could not afford to wallow in self-pity. As a leader, the welfare of the colony had to occupy my attention. And so, in our weakened condition we began to build the shelters that would have to sustain us through the cruel oncoming winter.
The month of December claimed six of our party. We were locked in a life and death struggle with Satan himself, for the light of the Gospel of Christ had landed in darkened territory.
The icy grip of winter came full force in January claiming another eight lives. By then nearly everyone was sick. In February the death rate reached its highest point and only five men remained able bodied, among whom were Captain Miles Standish and our pastor William Brewster. They chopped wood, washed our loathsome clothes, spoon fed us, and buried our dead.
At long last the winter began to lessen its grip. When it was over, we had lost forty-seven of our number and scarce more than fifty remained. Thirteen of our eighteen wives had died. Yet in all this we lifted our hands to heaven in gratefulness and continued to hold regular Sunday worship services, where Pastor William Brewster taught us the word of God.
One day in the middle of March an Indian walked into our encampment. “Welcome,” he said to us. We were astonished that he could speak English. He introduced himself as Samoset and told us that he had a friend named Tisquantum, who spoke even better English than himself.
Six days later he returned with Tisquantum, whom we began to call Squanto. Squanto’s story is an amazing saga. Perhaps I will tell it to you next year. But for now, I will only say that Squanto decided to stay with us and teach us how to live in this strange new world. He showed us how to catch eels, which we found fat and sweet to the taste. He showed us a better way to catch fish. He showed us how best to plant corn, using some of the fish we had caught to fertilize the ground around where we planted our seeds. He taught us how to stalk deer, to plant pumpkins among the corn, and how to refine maple syrup. He showed us the best herbs with which to treat sicknesses.
Our little colony began to prosper, but not without another great setback. Governor John Carver suddenly took ill and lost consciousness. Three days later he died and I was elected governor in his place.
With the month of May came our first wedding in the new world. Edward Winslow had lost his wife during the winter and Susanna White had lost her husband. It was my honor to join them in holy matrimony. During that time, we also concluded a treaty of friendship with Chief Massasoit and the nearby Wampanoag Indians, which was to last for fifty years.
We pilgrims were overflowing with gratitude to our God. Not only had we survived the harsh winter, but by God’s grace and Squanto’s help we found ourselves running over with abundance in food by the end of the summer. And so, I felt led of God to proclaim a day of Thanksgiving to be held in October. We invited Chief Massasoit. He arrived on the appointed day accompanied by ninety braves.
I must confess that I was a little nervous to see all those extra mouths to feed, for we had abundance, but we weren’t that abundant. But my fears were soon allayed. Massasoit ordered his braves to hunt for food and they brought back five dressed dear and twelve wild turkeys.
We had a bounteous feast with the Indians, who stayed with us for three days. Between meals we engaged in foot races and wrestling matches with our Wampanoag friends. Captain Standish much impressed them by leading our men in an exhibition of military drill.
Our colony survived and prospered and we became the root of the great nation that was to become the United States of America. May you Americans of the future never forget to thank our God for all of His goodness toward you. May God bless America and may He bless the world through her. And may the Thanksgiving feast which you will enjoy cause you to be thankful to God from whom all blessings flow.
In Christian love and sincerity, William Bradford.
