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He
has
changed, thought Elizabeth, seeing that he held back from kissing Margaret as he had always done, and that consciousness of his position gave him a new rigidity, but his wife, crying out “John, my dearest - ” flew into his arms. And he did kiss her, though hurriedly, before picking up Sammy. Their two elder sons, Stephen and Adam, scrambled on board and ran to their mother. There was a babble of greetings and tears, but Winthrop said, glancing at the watching crowd, “This is too public a place for reunion. Let us adjourn to the Great Cabin.”

When they were sequestered, Winthrop became more natural. He kissed Elizabeth, Martha, and Mary on the cheek. He admired Joan, his only grandchild so far. He put Sammy on his knee and stroked the little boy’s hair. He voiced his joy at their safe arrival, and uttered a long prayer of heartfelt thanksgiving in an unsteady voice. Yet there was constraint about him, and he had aged. His eyes were tired, there were deeper winkles on his forehead, new grey in his hair and pointed beard. When Jack proposed a toast to their reunion, he shook his head. “No, my son, I no longer drink to anyone. It is frivolous and leads to inebriety. In fact I take no spirits nor tobacco now. I would prefer that my family didn’t. Remember we set an example to the entire colony, and there is no sanction in Scriptures for strong waters, or smoking.”

Jack put down his mug of weak brandy, and ventured to say, “There is none for beer either, sir, is there?”

“Precisely,” answered Winthrop. “So I do not drink it, though I have not yet been able to enforce this view.”

I should hope not, thought Jack, dismayed. To deprive English folk of beer would be as galling as to forbid them bread.

“Mr. Dudley, my deputy, combats me in this as in other matters,” continued Winthrop heavily. “Sometimes I feel he does not heed God’s clear directions as he should, yet ever pray that Mr. Dudley and I shall work together in Christian love.”

Jack was not at the moment interested in Thomas Dudley, so unpleasant did he find his father’s new convictions of the need for total abstinence. “But sir -” he cried, “Our Lord Jesus drank wine, and Paul said ‘Use a little wine for thy stomach’s sake.’ “

“For thy stomach’s sake, not for pleasure,” answered Winthrop, but he suddenly smiled, the rare sweet smile that few had seen. “Come, my son. This is no time for argument. You will do as conscience bids you. Where is the young minister, John Eliot? We’re in sore need of him to preach in Boston, since Mr. Wilson is now in England.”

Eliot was brought into the cabin, and conferred some time with Winthrop, and then, after some hesitations and throat clearings, Captain Peirce produced Mirabelle. “Lady Gardiner, Your Worship. The first - that is, I mean to say, the
French
wife o’ Sir Christopher.”

Elizabeth barely suppressed giggles when she saw Mirabelle, who had had ample opportunity on deck to size up the Governor and whose female instincts were infallible. From Elizabeth’s cabin she had filched a large demure collar which completely hid all the charms she usually displayed. She had braided her fiery hair and covered most of it with a kerchief. She had removed her lip paint.

She walked in with downcast eyes and, curtseying low to Winthrop, seized his hand and kissed it. “Oh, your most honourable Excellency -” she faltered in a melting voice, “Do you know where is my so wicked husband, who has broken my poor heart?”

Margaret looked astonished, not having hitherto received this impression, but she chimed in kindly, “Poor Lady Gardiner.”

Winthrop’s face darkened at Gardiner’s name. Sir Christopher had caused Winthrop and Governor Bradford at Plymouth much anxious embarrassment. Gardiner had been exposed as a Papist and also as a spy for the wicked Sir Ferdinando Gorges who sat comfortably in England and plotted to seize all the country from Virginia to Quebec for himself. Yet Gorges had much noble backing, and Winthrop had not dared punish Sir Christopher as he deserved. Winthrop examined Mirabelle searchingly, and she gave him a lovely tremulous smile. He stood up and raised her from her curtsey. “You’ve come in search of your husband, my lady?” he said, his voice softening.

As Mirabelle nodded, he went on. “My dear, I sorrow to tell you this, but he has gone, fled north to the country above Piscataqua that Sir Ferdinando Gorges claims - Agamenticus. I had Sir Christopher in detention here for - well, no matter - I would not cause you added pain. But he escaped, with the help of his - h’m - of a young woman who claimed to be his cousin.”

“Ah,
quelle misère
.. .” cried Mirabelle, who had listened attentively, and she burst into most becoming tears.

“There, there,” said the Governor, patting her shoulder, and looking helplessly at Margaret. “Pray don’t weep. We’ll take care of you here, as long as you’ll stay. I’m sure we can find room.” He checked himself, for in his unfinished Boston house there was certainly not room in view of all these new arrivals. “I’ll place you with some gently bred family who will respect your rank, your beauteous youth and your unhappiness. I shall personally interest myself in your welfare.”

“How kind, how good you are!” cried Mirabelle, sending Elizabeth the tiniest flicker from the corner of her eye, that said, You see how easy it is to manage him.

Elizabeth saw, and resolved that she would profit by the lesson. She too, if need arose, would be all soft pathos and tender submission. She would coax, flatter, and weep; her future would be easy, she would gain the freedom for which she yearned; she would find new love, true love, at last and would marry, when and as she pleased, but first perhaps she could enjoy herself in the adventurous new land.

Yet not an hour passed before al! her resolutions were forgotten. Winthrop was to spend the night on board, but before he retired with Margaret, his respect for both ceremony and family ties prompted him to private interviews with his daughter Mary and his two daughters-in-law. He seated himself in the Captain’s chair and summoned the girls one by one, while the rest of the company chatted at the far end of the cabin.

Elizabeth saw Mary’s face lighten with a contented smile while her father spoke with her. Martha blushed and looked delighted when Winthrop bade her officially welcome as his daughter-in-law, saying that he was sure she would make Jack a loyal wife.

Elizabeth’s turn came last. She chided herself for previous anxiety when her uncle took the reluctant Joan from her arms and settled the child on his knee, saying “Nay, nay, poppet. You must not startle at your grandsir,” and he bounced Joan up and down and let her play with the silver buttons on his doublet. “She’s something like Henry, Bess, is she not?” He said with a sigh, “You will have seen from my letters how deeply I felt for you in that terrible affliction the Lord sent us all.”

“Yes, my uncle,” she said softly.

“You do not call me ‘Father’?” he asked in faint reproof. “Yet that is what I am to you now, and I’ve thought long for your future, as a father should.”

Elizabeth stiffened, she felt her heart beat, yet remembered enough of Mirabelle’s example to lower her lids and say meekly, “Aye, my father, you are ever wise.”

The lass had matured, thought Winthrop, gratified. God, through affliction, had much improved her. She was a trifle pinched and wan from the voyage, but still an exceptionally pretty woman, and her new suitor would certainly not repent of his generosity.

“I was sorry to hear that you displeased Mr. Coddington,” he said, but kindly. “I thought the match most suitable.”

“He displeased
me
-” she began, then bit her lips. “I’m sorry, sir, that you were disappointed.”

“No matter, it was doubtless the Lord’s all-seeing providence, for this match will do as well.”

Elizabeth’s chin jerked up, she looked Winthrop full in the eye “This
what,
sir?”

“Why, this match, this marriage I have consented to for you. You must have known I’ve worried about your situation, and would try to better it. Yet so few men in the colony are eligible. Mr. Robert Feake is - a young bachelor, church member, gentleman, and sufficiently well of! to overlook the - the - well - smallness of your marriage portion.”

Elizabeth clasped her hands and pressed them hard against her chest. “It matters not that I’ve never heard of this Mr. Fick, I suppose?”

Winthrop looked genuinely puzzled. “But he knows you. He speaks as though he’d formed a deep attachment for you. I assumed you had been in correspondence.”

“You assumed wrong!” she snapped and clenched her hands tighter, for they were trembling.

Her tone was rude and Winthrop’s benignity faded. He put Joan on the floor, eyeing Elizabeth’s flushed face coldly. “Whether you. know him or not is immaterial since you soon will. And I’m sure find him to your liking if the Devil does not tempt you into your old stubborn, headstrong ways. The matter has been arranged, and I know what’s best for you.”

“You don’t. You
don’t!
” she cried so wildly that the group at the other end of the cabin all turned their heads. Joan stared from her mother to her grandfather and began to wail. Winthrop rose, trying to master the uprush of anger which foolish opposition roused. They looked at each other with the mutual antagonism which had always been patent, and Elizabeth’s eyes fell first.

“We’ll speak no more of this tonight,” Winthrop said harshly. “I pray God will bring you to a better frame of mind, but in any case the matter is decided.” He turned on his heel and walked over to the others.

A flood of bewildered rage and fear choked in her throat as it had fourteen years ago at Groton, but she was twenty-one now and could not scream that she hated God, or run away, or swoon as she had then.

She sat on the bench, staring at a crack between the boards, until Martha came over to her. “Bess, dear - what is it? How did you offend our father?”

“Leave me alone, Matt,” Elizabeth turned from her sister. “I must think - think what to do.”

The next morning the wind had veered to the east and blew them chilly rain, but it also filled the
Lyon’s
sails and the ship glided slowly through the islands and dropped anchor in Boston Harbour.

The Captain ordered the longboat launched and handed the entire Winthrop family into it. He embarked himself, while the
Lyon
fired off seven cannon shots to apprise those on shore of the Governor’s arrival.

Elizabeth was silent in the boat as she had been all morning before entering it. Through the night she had considered many fantastic plans for defeating Winthrop, but sober dawn had shown her that none was immediately feasible, and she had Joan to consider. There was nothing to do but wait until she understood conditions in Boston, found out exactly what had become of her four hundred pounds, and try at least to control the situation without panic. But the inner turmoil precluded excitement over landing at last. She glanced almost indifferently at the misty silhouette of a three-mounded hill, and what seemed to be a cluster of small wooden huts near it, then back to the
Lyon.
The decks were filled with impatient passengers, who would presently be ferried to shore, and as she looked she saw William Hallet, hanging over the rail. He extended his arm in a wave, quickly checked, as though he’d thought better of it. She was too dejected to wave back, but the Governor’s sharp eyes had seen, and he turned to the Captain in surprise. “Was that long lad in the Monmouth cap waving at us? It seems very forward.”

“I believe ‘e was, sir - “ said Peirce. “ ‘Tis a young joiner from Dorset, very popular on board and ‘andy with our repairs after the tempest.”

“Indeed. An indentured servant, I presume. We’ve had trouble with them. They turn lewd and brazen over here.”

“ ‘E’s no servant, sir,” said Peirce. “Paid ‘is own passage money, and talks a’most like a gentleman. Just a lad who wanted a change o’ scene.”

Winthrop frowned. Footloose youths were not desirable members of the colony, but he dropped the topic, and began to show Margaret various landmarks ahead. The hill to the left where he intended to build a fort as soon as possible, if Dudley would stop palisading Newtown across the Charles, and belligerently insisting that Newtown should be the capital. He showed her Trimount, the three-mounded hill, where they kept a sentry posted, and would burn a warning bonfire in case of danger, and another hill where he hoped that Jack would help erect a windmill.

“And our house?” asked Margaret faintly, gazing through the drizzle at the bleak, treeless peninsula.

“There,” said Winthrop, pointing. “On the flat near the meeting-house. Oh, we’ve near a score of fine wood houses built, as you will see. Mr. Coddington, he’s started one of brick too, will finish it when he returns from England.” He glanced at Elizabeth’s set, withdrawn face, shadowed by the hood, and his lips tightened.

“I’m sure it looks like a sweet town,” said Margaret hastily. During the night she had heard of Elizabeth’s graceless behaviour, and of John’s many other worries too. But she had finally managed to soothe him, and he had slept in her arms.

The boat pulled up at a wooden pier, near which were crowded all the Bostonians and many from Newtown, Roxbury, and Charlestown as well. The young men of the militia or train bands had drawn up in formation and now fired ceremonious volleys of gunshot into the air. They had organized a fife-and-drum corps which began to play. Their Captains, Underhill and Patrick, in polished armour, and plumed helmets, stood bowing at the head of the ladder. There were cheers and huzzahs and “God Bless You’s,” as Margaret stepped up behind her husband to the pier. Elizabeth followed with Joan. She did not look at the mass of curious, respectful, welcoming faces. She watched four halberdiers step up to Winthrop and range themselves importantly before him, also a liveried beadle who carried the Charter in a long leather box. Winthrop said a few words to the people. He raised his hand and his procession formed.

The Captains and the train bands started marching two by two. After them the halberdiers, the Governor’s guard of honour, then James Penn, the beadle, with the Charter, which preceded Winthrop on every ceremonial occasion as a reminder of the authority invested in the Governor. Winthrop drew Margaret’s hand through his arm, and indicated to Jack that he and Martha should follow, and the other members of the family - in strict order of precedence. They all fell in and solemnly trudged up the muddy lane. “Journey’s end indeed”, Elizabeth thought as she marched. I have now arrived in the free, the glorious new land.