Another Desperate, Frigid Search

On the icy morning of December 7, 1620, several men set off again from the Mayflower. Two weeks anchored off the bitter New England coast, the ocean-weary passengers and over two dozen restless crewmembers hoped this would be the day the Pilgrims found a suitable home. 

While the men in the shallop searched for a harbor deep enough to bring in the ship, those on foot stumbled upon graves and the decayed structures of earlier inhabitants. Both groups found beached blackfish measuring nearly twenty feet long. One fish was cut up with several pieces strewn about. 

The land party found bare human footprints along the sandy beach and followed them toward the woods where one man thought he glimpsed an Indian shelter. As night fell, the ground team lost sight of the shallop. They scurried out of the woods to reconnect with the others. When they found the boat, they directed it toward a nearby creek. After both teams reunited, they gathered firewood and made their usual crude barricade for protection against wind and possible nighttime attacks. 

In the deepening darkness, they ate their meager rations and shared the stories they gathered from the day's events. At night, however, their sleep was interrupted by loud, bone-chilling cries. They jumped to their feet, grabbed their muskets, and fired into the darkness. After a long silence, seeing nothing in the dim firelight, they decided the howls were probably wolves. One crewman said he often heard the same unearthly sounds in Newfoundland.

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“For poverty and famine they were solitary, fleeing into the wilderness, which is dark, desolate and waste.” 

(Job 30:3; 1599 Geneva Bible)