“What have we gotten into?” moaned Andrew after three days locked in the hold. “Why did we Ever do this? I’ve got to figure a way out.”
“No! We wouldn’t be here if we had any other choice. We were starving and near to death. Things will have to be better in the colony. We’ll be on a farm again and free with land in four years. It’s the only way.” Molly’s optimism was wearing thin, but she held out hope. “Listen! We’re moving!” Sure enough, the chains creaked as the anchor was lifted and they were obviously leaving the harbor. An hour or so later, after they were too far to swim for shore, the doors to the hold were thrown open. The incarcerated rushed for the door and stood on deck for a last, long look at England. Many wailed as land slipped out of sight, knowing they’d never see home again nor maybe even the new country.
Time on deck made the long journey more bearable, except for the miserable days of rain and storms. though it didn’t improve the quality or quantity of the rations. Fighting and attacks were common in the hold, though few had anything but weavilly biscuits to steal. Coughing and moaning broke their guarded sleep. Andrew never left Molly for a moment, knowing she’d be assaulted. Almost every morning, a cold body or two was pulled from the hold. The stench became more horrendous as the weeks passed. Neither suffered from sea-sickness till mid crossing when a storm raged. Both wretched miserably, not even attempting to make it to the bucket. Many of the emancipated passed and were slid into the raging sea. Andrew would have gladly sought death had it not been for Molly.
Finally, the weather cleared and they were able to go above board again, feeling hope for survival. After seven weeks, a shout rang out. The Jamestown Colony was sighted!
Maybe they’d live after all!
Links to Parts 1 and 2
https://atomic-temporary-73629786.wpcomstaging.com/2017/01/04/andrew-and-molly-part-1/
https://atomic-temporary-73629786.wpcomstaging.com/2017/01/06/andrew-and-molly-part-2/
After filling their starving bellies with greasy stew and quarts of ale, Andrew and Molly signed away their next four years, too sated to consider the uncertainty of the life facing them. In fact, they were signing away the certainty of poverty, degradation, and possible imprisonment had they remained. In that time, people could not expect to rise above their station. Having lost the position as farm servants to which they were born, it was unlikely they’d ever find anything more than seasonal farm employment, working mostly at planting or harvest when the workload was heavy. Starvation would likely have been their eventual lot. Should they stay in the city, it’s unlikely they’d find work. Many in their situation drifted into prostitution and crime. It is likely Molly would have dried of disease, drink, or victimization on the streets and Andrew would have ended up on the gallows or bound over as an involuntary indentured servant. Their best chance for a better life lay with the choice they’d made.
Andrew Wharton was born to be a farm servant like his father and grandfather before him, the line extending back much further than anyone bothered to remember. His work was not a choice; he was born to work Hampton Grange and expected to die there. The only surprise was when pretty Molly Peace chose him. Ecstatic in his luck, he couldn’t believe the rollicking dairy maid favored him above all the hopeful lads pursuing her when he’d done no more than sneak shy peeks at her in Chapel. The confusion of love and glorious sensuality overwhelmed the young man who’d never contemplated the possibility that life could hold pleasure. Molly saw joy in everything, the sweet breath of the cows she milked, the warmth of the sun on her face, and the sweet sent of the hay she bundled, not seeming to notice the manure in the cow’s tail, the slogging rains, or the sneezing brought on by the hay.