1620 A.D.

It is winter, and if you were standing on the shore, you would see a small dark spot far out to sea. The spot is moving, and it grows in size as it approaches a wild section of the New England coastline. It is December 21, 1620.

That dark spot is a ship under sail. It drops anchor in the new world, 128 years after Columbus made his great discovery. But what kind of people would dare cross a winter ocean to a wilderness filled with the unknown? These are the ‘pilgrims’. No shelter welcomes them, and there is little food. Tempers run hot; misunderstandings, quarrels, and grudges gnaw at their minds like a plague.

A small boat is lowered. Men go ashore armed with blunderbusses. Indians are sighted and there is a fight. Later, these men find hidden corn and take what they want. They would plant it in the spring. The men return to the ship. No one is allowed ashore now, for a revolt erupts on board. In time, the revolt is settled, and everyone signs an agreement to work together for the good of all.

But as that winter progressed it became a life-and-death struggle and it appeared that all 102 of them were doomed. In fact, 50 of them would not survive the winter. They were aware of Indians around them; they felt eyes watching their every move. The forest was alive with enemies. Cannons were taken ashore from the ship, the Mayflower; and mounted. What good they would do is anyone’s guess, apart from making a lot of noise. Days passed.

Suddenly, one bright morning a powerful Indian walked out of the forest, armed with bows and arrows. He crossed the clearing, walked down their main street, and rapidly approached the meeting house, where most of the towns people had gathered. Men rushed out and stopped him just as he was about to enter the building.

He stood silent, head and shoulders above all of them. He was a magnificent Indian, huskily built, and a threat. Who was he? Where did he come from, and what did he want? Men showed their guns, women hid, and children cried. But a moment later their amazement knew no bounds.

“Welcome,” thundered the deep voice of the Indian, in perfect English. And he was smiling. The pilgrims fell back and stared in blank surprise.

His name, they learned, was Samoset, and he spoke Elizabethan English as they did. Samoset was also a stranger in this section of the New World, a pilgrim like themselves. He was a chief from the “People of the dawn,” Indians living to the far north.

He told them about the Indians living around them, who they were, and the name of their great chief, Yellow Feather. That chief was his friend.

Samoset talked on and on to his fascinated audience. When night came, he was not willing to leave. What would they do now? Could they trust this man? They had no choice. They gave him a bed for the night, but most of them sat up sleepy-eyed and watched him. He left in the morning, promising to return. He came back the next day with five Indian braves, bringing messages of peace Then they were all gone.

Days later, the pilgrims were startled again as two Indians appeared on Strawberry Hill. There was a rush for guns. But it was Samoset, and he brought a friend named Squanto. Who was Squanto?

God had miraculously prepared for the arrival of the pilgrims who were fleeing the papal persecutions in Europe. Had he not done so, it is most likely that none of the pilgrims would have survived the winter. I will share the rest of this amazing story tomorrow.

1621 A.D.

So what was the miracle that God worked before the Mayflower arrived and who was Squanto?

Years before the arrival of the Mayflower, a powerful tribe of Indians, the Patuxet, lived in Plymouth. But by 1620 Squanto was the only one left of that great tribe. Squanto had seen more of the world than had any of the pilgrims now living in Plymouth.

In 1605 this Indian and 19 others of his tribe were kidnapped and taken to England as slaves. From England,  Squanto was taken to Spain and sold for a few pieces of eight in the slave market. Later he escaped to London, where he lived with a rich merchant.

One day he happened to meet a sea captain who agreed to take him on a trip to explore the coast of New England in the New World. He arrived back in his native land in 1619. Excitedly he ran to his village, only to learn that every man, women, and child had died of the plague. His family was gone. He wandered to another tribe, an unhappy man. From the time he met the pilgrims Squanto never left them until the day he died.

The pilgrims fought hard to stay alive in the winter of 1620/21. Rising behind their homes in Plymouth was Cole’s Hill; On that hill they buried the ones who died during that terrible winter. As the warm winds of spring brought rain, these people leveled the graves of their loved ones and seeded over them with a crop to hide their losses from the Indians. Only 51 of the 102 Pilgrims who arrived in Plymouth lived through that first winter. Half of those were children.

The summer of 1621 passed quickly. Leaves turned red, gold, brown and yellow. Days became shorter and there was the chill of another winter in the wind. Life had been hard, and no one forgot those special places on the hill where slept the mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters of the 51 who still lived. For the survivors it was a day-and-night struggle against starvation, and they barely made it.

Squanto, with his native skills and his knowledge of the country, actually saved their lives. He taught them how to plant corn (their stolen corn.) He showed them how to fertilize and water. He explained the building of fish traps and served as an interpreter and advisor to the other Indians. He was their guide in the wilderness and taught them how to trade. In time, the pilgrims looked on him as “a special instrument sent from God.”

In 1621 all the pilgrims’ crops failed except for the corn Squanto had taught them how to grow. There were 20 acres of it (about 8 hectares), enough to save them from starvation.

So, they declared a holiday, a day of thanksgiving. And they had much to be thankful for. Most of all, they were at peace with the Indians. As they looked around them they saw a town of seven houses and four other buildings. They were in the fur trading business, no real sickness plagued them, and they were at peace with each other. Indeed, they had much to be thankful for.

When the day of thanksgiving arrived, the great chief Yellow Feather arrived with 90 braves, and they were all hungry. So they sat and ate together, the Indians and the pilgrims. The Indians supplied wild meat and the pilgrims provided bread, baked goods, and corn, with wild plums and dried berries for dessert.

The celebration was a great success, lasting for three days. This was also the time of the Indian harvest festival. There were games, demonstrations, and tests of strength. Hebrews 11 tells us that we are all pilgrims and strangers in this world. We are on a journey to a better country. That is the story of my life. As in this story, God works His providence and provides for us along the way.

“All these people died still believing what God had promised them. They did not receive what was promised, but they saw it all from a distance and welcomed it. They agreed that they were foreigners and nomads here on earth. Obviously, people who say such things are looking forward to a country they can call their own. If they had longed for the country they came from, they could have gone back. But they were looking for a better place, a heavenly homeland. That is why God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.” Hebrews 11:13-16 NLT

If you want to view the story of Squanto, the Disney channel has a 1994 Movie called Squanto: A Warriors Tale. It is loosely based on actual historical events.

Postscript: One of the women who landed in 1620 was carrying a newborn baby in her arms. The child had been born in Plymouth harbor. He was named Peregrine White. This name means wanderer, or pilgrim. A direct descendant of this child was James White, one of the founders of the Seventh-day Adventist church.