Saturday, 22 July 1620 Delfthaven, Holland

Gentle waves rocked the Speedwell as the vessel left behind the only home Mary Elizabeth remembered. Salty air stung her nose, and the breeze tugged at wisps of her hair — threatening to loosen them from under her confining cornet.

Standing as close to the stern of the ship as she could without bothering the crew on the poop deck, Mary Elizabeth inhaled deeply. If only the crisp air could clear her mind like it cleared her lungs. Breathing out a prayer for courage, she clung to the bulwark. Courage had never been her strength. The past few weeks had confirmed that indeed it was all happening. And here she stood. On a ship.

Could she do this? Truly?

She'd armed herself with her prized possessions: her mother's red cape draped comfortingly around her shoulders; treasured receipts from generations prior sat safely tucked into the pockets tied around her waist; and the memory of the woman who loved her and modeled what it meant to be a godly wife and mother resided, always and forever, in her heart. Reaching her hand behind her apron, she slipped it through the slit in her skirt and found the string of pockets tied around her waist. The one with the receipts hung in the middle. She ran her fingers over the edges of the worn papers. Grandmother's savory egg-and-spinach pie receipt, a boiled pudding receipt from her mother, and her favorite — Mother's rye-and-barley bread — were among them.

If only mother were still alive. Maybe this journey wouldn't be so difficult.

Even though their time in Holland had been full of difficult stretches, God had been good to Mary Elizabeth there. She'd had her family, her dear friend Dorothy, and plenty of work to keep her busy. Besides that, it was familiar. Safe.

But no more. The land she knew had drifted out of her sight hours before. Never to be seen again.

The Saints, as they preferred to call themselves, had left England twelve years before while under persecution from the King and the Church of England. When they left for Holland, they wished only to separate themselves from England's church so they could study the scripture more and follow the state's rules and taxations less. They believed only what the Bible told them, so they considered all the man-made rules and traditions of the Church of England to be wrong.

She didn't remember England. But Holland would remain forged in her mind for the rest of her days.

Now it all seemed surreal. Listening in the rafters that night had been the beginning for her, but the group's preparation had been going on for years.

Correspondence to grant the Saints permission to start a colony in the New World had gone back and forth to England. And then John Carver and Robert Cushman were sent to London to negotiate an agreement.

Finally, permission from the King had been granted. In fact, he seemed to bless the endeavor with his words, "as long as they went peaceably."

Memories of their departure from Leyden washed over her. The rest of the congregation that stayed behind and many of their Dutch neighbors had come to see them off. There had been shedding of tears aplenty. But when Pastor Robinson dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, Mary Elizabeth had lost control of her emotions, as well. As he prayed for the Lord's blessing and commended the travelers on their journey, she wanted to gain strength from his words. But she'd only felt weaker and more inadequate.

A spray of salt water hit her face and brought her back to the reality of where she stood. The planning was done. The packing was over. Goodbyes had been said. And now Holland had vanished from sight. She and the others on the ship would reach England soon, and after they met up with the Mayflower and her passengers — the other brave souls who would journey to the New World with the Separatists to establish a colony — they would be on their way.

To what, she was unsure.

Squinting, she gazed toward the horizon in the west. What would this New World hold? Papa had regaled her with stories of lush, fertile land. Land unclaimed by anyone else. Land supplying an abundance of food. Land that held no persecution for their faith.

Her faith. It meant everything to her. And the thought of freedom to worship and learn and grow in God's Word thrilled her beyond imagining. It was the one thing that helped her through the past weeks when she'd had to swallow the reality that yes, she was going to the New World. Dorothy helped her to focus on the positive, and Mary Elizabeth clung to the thought of her faith.

Years ago, her father had spent almost a month of wages on a Bible so they could read it themselves. The first time she'd been allowed to hold the volume in her hands, she'd cried. She found it such a privilege to read the Bible, translated in its entirety to her own English language and printed in 1560, and understood why her people — the Saints — longed to separate themselves from England's Church. Why didn't everyone long to read the Word as she did? Why were they content to sit in church, pay homage to their country, and listen to passages read from the Book of Common Prayer and nothing else? Church was an obligation, a ceremony, a ritual to them. But followers of Christ were called to share the Gospel and be set apart. The difference in thinking didn't make sense to Mary Elizabeth. Especially since so many had been persecuted for it.

The New World held more than just release from persecution. Papa and the other men dreamed of working their own farms with land as far as the eye could see. In Holland, the hard labor they'd all put in for decades had given them nothing of their own.

To think the New World could hold the answer to all their hopes and dreams.

It sounded lovely.

So why did her heart hesitate so? She'd shed enough tears to create a river the past few weeks, and she'd finally told the Lord that enough was enough. The only way she could make it through was with His help. Her new recitation became I can do this.

Papa's excitement rubbed off on her younger brother, David, but most of the time she'd had to force a smile. No matter. It wasn't her place to go against Papa, and his mind was made up. They'd been chosen.

Her father had kept himself busy with the plans to go. So much so, she'd hardly seen him in a fortnight. His absence made their departure that much more difficult to bear.

It made her feel ... alone.

And now she stood on a ship. Going.

She felt lonelier than ever.

She shook her head. She could do this. Her mind just needed to stay off these thoughts of loneliness and instead keep occupied.

Papa was engaged in excited conversations with the other men, which would probably be the daily activity for him the entirety of their voyage. So she must find something to keep her mind occupied and off these thoughts of loneliness.

She could do this.

But the recited phrase couldn't keep the questions from filling her thoughts: Would the New World be as beautiful as Holland? Would she make friends? Would she find a God-fearing husband?

Or would the savages kill them all in their sleep?

Another tiny shiver raced up her spine. Such thoughts were not appropriate. Papa would have a fit if he knew she'd listened to the sailors' stories. He'd scolded David for repeating the derogatory name savages. But what if that's what they were? Were they sailing into their own demise?

"Mary Elizabeth!"

Dorothy's voice drifted across the deck of the ship, and Mary Elizabeth waved and smiled at her friend. She must not allow her foolish doubts to dull Dorothy's enthusiasm for every aspect of this new life.

"I had a feeling I would find you here. Fresh air is always your first choice." Dorothy smiled and leaned on the bulwark as the ship listed to the right. "Your father is teaching David about Jamestown and the New World."

"David is thrilled, to be sure." Mary Elizabeth looked back to the water. She really must swallow this doubt and fear. Far better to grab hold of the thrill and joy she saw on her friend's features.

Dorothy laid a hand on Mary Elizabeth's shoulder. "I've been praying for you. I know this isn't easy, leaving your dear mother behind and all."

All Mary Elizabeth could manage was a nod as an image of the cemetery flitted through her mind.

The gravestone with her mother's name — Elizabeth Chapman — denoted the all-too-short span of the beloved woman's life. It would lay bare now. No flowers. No one to visit.

Even though Mother's memory resided in Mary Elizabeth's heart and mind, leaving behind the grave — the place she visited weekly to pour out her heart and soul — hurt more than the loss of any other physical object in Holland.

"Here." Her friend offered a brown-paper-wrapped package. "I wanted to give it to you on your birthday, but I couldn't wait."

Mary Elizabeth smiled and took her time unwrapping the gift. The brown paper could be saved and used again, and they wouldn't have access to such frivolities — or anything of the sort — for quite some time. As she turned it over in her hands, she found a deep brown leather book with a leather string tied around it. There weren't any words on the cover or spine. "What is it?"

"It's blank pages. For you to write down your thoughts. I thought it would help since you won't be able to visit your mother's grave anymore."

Tears sprang to Mary Elizabeth's eyes. Only Dorothy knew her heart and the lengthy visits to the cemetery and what she did there. She clutched the treasure to her chest. "This must have cost you a small fortune." Paper wasn't a commodity most could afford. Mary Elizabeth looked back down at the precious book. "Thank you so much." The words seemed all too inadequate.

"I know you have a quill and pots of ink with you since I helped pack them" — Dorothy laughed as she patted Mary Elizabeth's arm — "and once we have a settlement and regular shipments coming in, you might want to write even more. You've always had a talent for stringing beautiful phrases together."

Tears flowed down Mary Elizabeth's face. She didn't even want to wipe them away. What a treasure. Not just the book, but the friend.

Dorothy bounced on her toes. "I will be with you, dear Mary Elizabeth. Through every step of this new journey."

Mary Elizabeth smiled through her tears. "I know you will, and I'm very grateful, I am. The journey will just take some getting used to."

"Well, don't take too long. Adventure awaits!" Dorothy's arms stretched out, and she spun around. Her friend's eagerness for the unknown made Mary Elizabeth laugh and wipe the tears off her face.

Mary Elizabeth folded up the brown paper and tucked it into her cloak. God had truly blessed her. With a wonderful family and a delightful friend. She could do this.

Courage. Her prayer from before sprang back to her mind.

The pounding of boots behind them made Mary Elizabeth turn and wrap her cloak around her tighter. The sailors weren't the most gentlemanly of sorts.

The ship master emerged from the group and looked straight at them. The weathered man always appeared tense and stern, but today another expression hid behind his eyes. Was it fear? "Go get your men. We need all able-bodied hands on deck. Including the women and children."

Mary Elizabeth nodded and moved to do the ship master's bidding.

But Dorothy tugged on Mary Elizabeth's cloak and stopped. "What's happened, Mr. Reynolds?"

Seeing the other sailors' grim expressions, Mary Elizabeth felt a knot grow in her stomach. She faced the man in charge.

Mr. Reynolds's mouth pressed into a thin line, and he clasped his hands behind his back as he glanced out to the water and then back to Mary Elizabeth and Dorothy. The severe expression grew dim. "It's not the best etiquette to speak to women of such calamity, but since you will carry the message below and there's not a lot of time, I feel it's best to be honest." He took a deep breath. "The ship's been leaking for some time now, and we're taking on a good deal of water. It is far worse than I suspected. If we don't do something about it, we'll sink before we ever reach Southampton."

* * *

Tuesday, 1 August 1620 Southampton, England

William Lytton lifted the last crate and his satchel of tools and readied to walk up the gangway of the Mayflower one more time. His leg muscles burned from the numerous trips up the steep, narrow walkway, but it was worth it.

The New World.

For years, he'd longed for change — a fresh start. The opportunity before him now presented all his dreams in one nice package. And the Mayflower would take him there.

If he could just make it through the weeks at sea, he'd be fine. They would all have to start with nothing. They would have to build or create everything with their own hands. They would be far away from everyone and everything they'd ever known. That was fine. Making a new life took hard work and sacrifice.

He was ready.

In a matter of weeks, he'd be standing on shores across the vast ocean — literally on the other side of the world. The thought made him smile. He might be an orphan, devoid of family or anyone who cared about him, and unworthy of English society's approval, but he was done with all of that. In this new land, in a new settlement, he could be someone else entirely.

A hand on his shoulder made him start and lose his grip on the crate, but he caught it with his knee. The man standing there didn't look like a thief.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, and I don't wish to startle you, but I have a proposition." The more closely William observed, the more he noted why the man's appearance exuded wealth. A shimmer of gold on the man's right hand didn't escape his notice. Only the wealthy donned such adornments.

William nodded. "Sir. Let me set my burden down, and we can discuss whatever is on your mind."

The man glanced around and moved to sit on another crate. As he reached into the pocket of his vest, the embroidery on the man's sleeves caught William's attention. The man must be rich indeed.

The mysterious stranger cleared his throat. "Are you William Lytton?"

Who was this man? The ring and clothing reminded William of royalty, but he'd had little experience with the upper classes, much less royals. "Yes, sir. I am."

The man smiled and motioned for William to move his crate closer. "I don't wish to take a lot of time, nor do I wish to be overheard, so I'll be brief. I'm with the Virginia Company and am also one of the Merchants and Adventurers. You may know that we have heavily invested in all who will be journeying with you to the New World."

It was no secret. The Merchants and Adventurers provided the monetary backing for the trip, and the Planters were the travelers to the New World. Every Planter over the age of sixteen received one share, while the Adventurers could invest and buy as many shares as they wanted. Once all the debts were paid in seven years, the profits would be divided by those shares. A rush of thankfulness hit William's chest. He had two shares when most Planters only had one. "Yes, sir. I am aware."

The man leaned closer, his voice hushed. "We need to hire a man with integrity to keep records for us."

William felt his brows raise but attempted to keep a plain expression. "Records? What kind of records?"

The man coughed into his fist as another sailor ran up the gangway. When the young man was past, he continued. "A journal of sorts recording all the comings, goings, workings, business — all that takes place at the new settlement. The ten-point agreement we have with you all, the Planters, is to come to fruition in seven years. While seven years seems like it can go by quickly, it is a good length of time, and the New World is a great distance away. We don't have a man available who can pick up and leave his life and family here, so we thought it prudent to find someone who would be a part of the new colony to help us out. Your name was given to me as a recommendation. We wish to see this venture succeed with the utmost honesty and respect."

Respect. If he'd learned nothing else, William had learned the importance of respect in business matters. As for honesty and integrity? Well, as far as he was concerned, there was no other way to act. And it gave him a boost in his confidence to learn that someone had recommended him. He lifted his shoulders and nodded. "How may I help?"