Past Stories

Mayflower Compact Narrative

Okay, so this story is shorter than the last but I do remember me feeling sad at the end of writing it.
We read the Mayflower Compact in 6th grade and were told to write a narrative about it. (We were given a lot of freedom with our writing assignments). Taking advantage of my knowledge of history, I had a lot of fun writing this.
If you do not know, the Mayflower Compact was signed by the pilgrims as the world's first written document proclaiming self-government.

WARNING: None, but it does mention death a little.

“I am not confident in this, Father.” I commented uncertainly. My father was sitting by our small fire in our almost completely built cabin. The smoke and ash from the fireplace stained the wooden wall with black streaks as it was being fueled by the gust of wind coming from the bellow compressed in my hands.

My father crossed his legs on the table in the middle of the tiny living room. His face turned from pondering to puzzled, “Whatever do you mean? It should be an honor for you to be asked to take part in the Compact.”

I cringed my face because I had always wanted to please my father and the disappointment in his tone of voice made a pang of guilt to flow through me. I put the extra wood away and sat the bellow on the mantle of the fireplace. I added, a bit defensively, “I am not even an adequate adult, Father. My promise means nothing to the lead men.”

Father seemed taken aback, “That is nonsense! Your promise will mean something when you contribute your support to the Colony! Why are you of so little faith?”

I did not answer him but only sat down at the dining table and drank some of the ale that we had brought over from England. I took a large gulp of my drink before responding, “Do not take my doubtfulness as an ailment, Father. You knew from the beginning that I was hesitant on coming to this New World.”

Father stood from his rocking chair and paced around the living room, acting as if he were the most powerful man in the world. Well, he might have been the most powerful man in this one. Everyone in the Colony respects the great John Carver, head of the settlement. No one ever questioned his authority, for he was the individual who suggested we colonize the North America.

It is ironic, however, that John Carver’s own son doubts his own father’s plans for themselves.

“Son, you are hesitant about everything that I have decided we do! ‘Father, do not question the Church’s teachings, you’ll be burned!’ ‘I do not like the idea of leaving England, Father. We have nothing over there.’ ‘Father, I am not so confident that we will reach the New World! The storm took away too much! We should turn around and set sail back for England.’ Well, you see, Son. I was not burned, we have plenty over here now that we’ve settled it, and we reached the New World with at least half of our people, so I do not know what troubles you so!” Father fumed as his voice raised and shook the house slightly.

I shook my head and emptied out the ale mug. After the last drop was drained, I stood from my chair and grabbed my coat. I was going to get a breath of fresh air. It was almost winter here in Massachusetts and the wind had a chill that would freeze even the most covered person.

“Where do you think you are off to, young man?” My father called after me as I stepped out the door. He followed me out of the house and kept shouting to me, “This is inevitable, Timothy! You will have to sign eventually!”

I didn’t listen to him and continued to walk out of the village.

I made sure not to walk too far from the Colony, however. The people who were on these lands before us were mysterious people and we were not sure if they were friendly or not. I remember when we first arrived here, the women and girls were petrified because they had seen a nearly fully naked man running into the woods. Later that week, the chief of these strange people, Massasoit, had come to the Colony to discuss with my father and some of the other men in the council.

Father had said that we were from England, but the chief did not understand him. Instead of staying longer, Massasoit left the village. And we have not seen any of the savages since.

I sat down next to a nearby creek and pondered to myself.

I knew that, eventually, King James would arrive with his men and have us hanged for treason. I tried to warn Father that this would happen and that we should have stayed home in England. Still, he would not listen to me.

I cursed my father for putting our family and the rest of the people who followed us to America in danger. How selfish and careless was he! He led all these people –all of his people –to their demise all because of a silly dream.

I suddenly thought back to when my family and I lived in England:

Father sat at the fireplace as he usually does in the evening and read from the Bible to us, my half-sister and me. He had stolen the Bible from a printer in London and has been in hiding since then. We had all asked him why he had stolen it.

“Father, you could have been caught!” I chastised him.

My little sister leaned towards the Bible and asked him, “Well, what does it say about indulgen... in-dul-”

“Indulgences? It says that only God forgives sin. The Pope has been lying to us all this time! We need to do something about this!” Father interjected. He was beginning to pace the living room with a purpose. I rolled my eyes silently as I saw someone looking out the bay window near the kitchen.

It was Mother.

“Mother? What are you looking at?” I questioned her quietly. She motioned for me to come sit beside her. I obeyed and let her play with my messy hair while she spoke to me,

“Do you see the stars, Timothy-dear?” She asked this softly as she pointed towards the darkening sky. I looked up to see the stars, yet none were there. The only sight in front of me were huge buildings emitting smoke and fog.

I slowly looked up at my mother. I noticed that her face had become more wrinkled and paler than it was a few days ago. Her eyes looked dull and tired, but they seemed to gleam with determination.

“I am okay, darling. The reason you do not see the stars is because someone has yet to put them there in the sky. You see, without the stars in the night sky, the void of night is bleak and boring.” Mother looked down at me and smiled sweetly.

“But when someone decided to do something about it, the stars appear and light up the night sky and our hope.” She continued this explanation while petting my head.

I was still confused as to what she meant by “hope”, “Hope for what, Mother?”

She leaned towards me and kissed my forehead gently. After her gesture, she smiled at me and spoke again, “Hope for you. And me. And the others. Hope that we will finally be without worry and that we will be free at last.”

 

I sat up after reminiscing my deceased mother’s words. She was right.

If I did nothing, then I could not change the future. The lives of the Colony, the lives of my family would be dull, and we would be trapped forever. That is when I made my decision.

I ran back to the village as quickly as I could and rushed to find my father. I saw him talking to an important man named Myles Standish. Interrupting their conversation, I went to my father,

“I’ll do it, Father. I’ll sign the Compact. I’ll promise my fidelity to the Colony and the Colony only.”

My father’s face lit up but had a sort of “I told you so” look. He chuckled a bit and pat me on the back while saying, “That’s my boy! You are doing good to your father’s name!”

I inched away from him a bit and retorted grimly,

“I am not doing it for you...”

A/N: Thanks for reading!!

(Edit: Rereading this story, I have realized that I made some mistakes pertaining to the actual signing of the compact. The Mayflower Compact was not signed in the New World. It was actually signed on the Mayflower on the water. They signed it before landing, so I would like to correct my historical accuracy by apologizing for the misinformation!)