36. After a stormy, dangerous week, Saturday, December 9th, dawned clear, and the sun shone down on the snowy world. The Sabbath day the explorers observed on shore, and Monday they "sounded the harbor and found it fit for shipping, and marched into the land and found a . . . place fit for situation; at least, it was the best they could find, and the season and their present necessity made them glad to accept of it. So they returned to their ship again with this news to the rest of their people, which did much comfort their hearts." This day, December 11th, old style, corresponding to December 21st, new style, is celebrated as the date of the "landing of the Pilgrims."
37. Meantime, what of those left in the ship these four dreary weeks? The ways of life went on in births and deaths; six of the wanderers found the door of the other world; and Peregrine White came into this--first-born of New England. The little boy Jasper More, who came in care of the Carvers, died; and Dorothy Bradford fell overboard and was drowned while her husband was exploring the coast. The men had terrible coughs and colds from wading through the freezing sea, and the women were beginning to suffer from the hardship of it all. The children, child-like, adapted themselves to the situation. Mr. Billington being gone to the shore, his son John, with the family gun well loaded, took occasion to try his skill by shooting it off in the cabin; "yet, by God's mercy, no harm was done!"
38. Midwinter, and provisions low. Seven already buried in the ocean. Sickness setting in with more severity, women and children to be somehow cared for, two tiny babies to be shielded from all harm, their only home the inhospitable shore. No time to lose! The 16th they began to build the first house, and so was planted Plymouth.
39. In that dead winter time sprang Plymouth. Cold for the seed of the Mayflower, but Mayflower's seed did not easily die. The houses went up, one after another, and as it became possible the company on the ship were transferred to the land. The ship, indeed, became more and more undesirable: sickness prevailed; the sailors did not escape, but dragged about or tossed in their beds in fierce impatience, and, of the Puritans, half their number died before the end of March. Elder Brewster and strong Miles Standish, with half-a-dozen others who were left in health, toiled night and day, cooking, building fires, making beds, washing clothes, adapting their masculine hands to women's offices as they dressed and undressed the feverish patients, cared for the babies whose mothers lay ill, heard the children say their prayers. Ah, Miles Standish, rough captain, nowhere do you stand out braver than against that background! And Rose, thy wife, Rose Standish too must die, ere ever she comes to the home on the shore.