Rush Revere and the Brave Pilgrims: Time-Travel Adventures with Exceptional Americans (17 page)

Freedom complained, “But you just said—”

Freedom was cut off by the roller-skating waitress who asked for our orders. Freedom, Tommy, and I each ordered the cheeseburger, fries, and shake combo. And I ordered Liberty’s usual, three Veggie Supremes, extra everything.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that she didn’t ask why we’re dressed like this?” Tommy asked.

“Not really. As I said, this isn’t our first time here,” I said with a wink.

As we ate our food Freedom said, “It’s just really sad that the Pilgrims never had this kind of luxury. They never got to go to a diner and have food prepared for them in minutes. They had to shoot a duck or kill a pig or—”

“Or grow a garden,” Liberty added between mouthfuls.

“What I’m saying is we have it easy,” Freedom finished.

“True,” Tommy said. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve starved.”

I sighed. “Sadly, many of them did starve. In fact, that first
winter was called the ‘Starving Time.’ When we met Somoset I counted the number of Pilgrims who were gathered outside. It was about half the number who arrived on the
Mayflower.
”

“Oh, that’s what Somoset meant when he said that Massasoit knew that many of the Pilgrims had died, right?” asked Freedom.

“Correct,” I said. “It was probably a combination of lack of food, the severe cold, and disease.”

As the waitress rolled away after offering us each a free peppermint candy I said, “Why don’t we all take a potty break before we head back.”

“Good idea!” Tommy said. “The other luxury the Pilgrims didn’t have is flushing toilets!”

I
t was officially
spring when we returned to Plymouth Plantation in the year 1621. To be exact, we arrived on March 22, five days after Somoset’s initial visit to the Pilgrims. We landed near the top of Fort Hill, concealed by a number of trees and bushes.

As we were about to head downhill toward the settlement, I heard the sound of twigs snapping. I looked back to see what it was. Apparently, Freedom had heard the same thing.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “It sounded like it was coming from farther uphill.”

“We’re nearly at the top,” Tommy said.

“Not farther uphill. It came from somewhere up in that tree,” Freedom said, pointing to the large pine tree that rose more than one hundred feet in the air.

“I love those trees,” said Tommy. “I’m ninety-nine
percent sure it’s a white pine. Did you know that white pines can reach up to two hundred fifty feet in height and as much as five feet in diameter?” Tommy said.

“Who needs the Nature Channel when Tommy’s around,” said Liberty.

Tommy and Freedom dismounted from Liberty and we all walked closer to the trunk of the large pine. Just as we looked up, a pinecone fell from the interior branches and bonked Liberty on the nose.

“Ouch,” said Liberty. “This forest is downright rude. First I get snubbed by a deer and then I get hit by a pinecone. I suggest we leave before we get tarred and feathered!”

Again we peered up into the branches. Sure enough, about thirty feet up was a man. No, a boy of about thirteen or fourteen. He looked tall and wiry and appeared to be climbing down the tree. Suddenly I recognized who it was and yelled, “Francis Billington!”

My call startled Francis and he lost his balance, slipping from the branch. In a split second I realized he was falling backward and away from us. My mind raced at the future implications. If Francis died because of the fall, it would be my fault. Francis was seconds from his death and I would be responsible for changing the course of history. I looked at Liberty, who saw my fear and despair, and suddenly everything on the hill that belonged to this moment in time had literally stopped. A bird had frozen in mid-flight just a few feet from Tommy’s head. A squirrel was frozen in mid-scurry as it climbed a tree trunk. Even the twigs from a nearby birch tree were frozen in mid-bend from a recent gust of wind.

“Help Francis . . . quickly,” Liberty struggled to say. His voice
sounded strained, like he was holding back a locomotive with his mind.

“What’s happening?” Freedom asked, a twinge of fear in her voice.

“This is freaky,” said Tommy. “Mr. Revere, Francis is . . . he’s frozen in time!”

True to his word, Francis hung in the air completely motionless, no strings attached. He was about fifteen feet above the ground that would very likely kill him upon impact.

Suddenly I had an idea. I ran to Liberty’s saddlebag and opened it.

“Trying . . . not to . . . blink,” Liberty said.

“Just a little more,” I said. “Try and hold off time for another twenty seconds.” I dug deeper into the corner of the saddlebag, “Found it!” I pulled out a mesh hammock that I had purchased when I thought I might be sleeping on the
Mayflower.
I ran toward the tree and called Freedom and Tommy to join me. “Quickly, you two hold the other end. We need to position ourselves directly under Francis and pull the hammock as tightly as possible.”

“Eyes burning . . . bulging . . . twitching!” Liberty was panicked.

“Just a little more,” I said.

Just as we finished stretching out the mesh beneath Francis, the air, the forest, the world suddenly came back to life, and Francis fell and landed dead center in the hammock. Thankfully, he wasn’t dead. The hammock broke his fall as he slid off to the side and landed on his stomach.

I quickly gathered up the hammock as Tommy and Freedom helped Francis to his feet.

“I’m not dead,” Francis said, brushing himself off. “That was a lucky fall. You know, if you hadn’t scared me like that I wouldn’t have fallen at all!”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” Francis said. “You got to do a lot more than that to take out a Billington. That’s what my dad always says. Out of twenty-two families who sailed on the
Mayflower,
he said we’re one of the few who have all survived since landing in the New World.”

You’re still alive thanks to Liberty, I thought.
Liberty!
I turned and ran back to him. “You did it!” I said, rubbing his nose.

Liberty half smiled and weakly replied, “Yes, it worked. I actually stopped time for a few seconds. Although I’m still not sure how I did it. It was different than opening the time portal to the past or back to the present. That seems easy compared to this. This was different. It was like flipping a switch in my brain, although it wasn’t really in my brain. It was more like a space between time. It was a place between the here and now. I’m sure that sounds completely ridiculous, but it’s the best I can come up with right now.”

“What else do you remember?” I asked. “Were you scared? Angry? Hungry? What were you feeling? And were you holding your breath or swishing your tail or crossing your eyes? I’m just trying to figure out if there’s a pattern and if we could duplicate it.”

“I don’t think I want to do it again,” Liberty replied. “It was exhausting. But I don’t remember feeling scared or angry or hungry. Well, I’m always hungry, but you know what I mean. Mainly, I remember sensing danger and having the sudden resolve to do anything I could to help you.”

“Courage,” I said. “You were feeling courageous. Good. What else?”

“Hmm,” Liberty pondered, “I remember keeping my eyes wide open like I was in the finals at the World Championship Staring Competition.”

“I don’t think there is such a competition,” I said.

“Well, there should be, because I think I’d be really good at it!” Liberty sighed, “Anyway, when I finally blinked, everything went back to normal.”

Francis finished brushing himself off and said, “I have to get back home. I need to tell the others!”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t tell them about the fall,” I said. “The important thing is that you’re not hurt.”

“Who cares about the fall,” Francis said. “I’m talking about my discovery. I saw a giant lake of fresh water from the top of that tree!”

As Francis bolted down the hill, I stored the hammock back in Liberty’s bag.

“No one’s going to believe him,” Tommy said. “I should know. There’s no way Principal Sherman would believe me if I had some important news to share. I mean I know I goof off in class sometimes, but I’m an angel compared to that dude. And I can promise you that I will never shoot off a musket near a barrel of gunpowder.”

“Good to know,” I said, smiling. “But from what I know Francis Billington really did find a giant freshwater lake about two miles inland. Just like you said, William Bradford doesn’t believe him at first. But, finally, Francis convinces the Pilgrims to scout it out and sure enough, they find it. And the fish and fowl that the lake provides becomes a huge blessing for the colony.”

“Like I always say,” Liberty yawned, “never believe a troublemaker unless he’s telling the truth.”

We slowly headed down the hill toward the Pilgrims’ settlement.

“I think I’m going to rest near that large oak tree,” said Liberty. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’m going to check out the brook,” said Tommy. “Want to come, Freedom? Maybe you can talk some fish into letting me catch them.”

“I’ll come,” said Freedom. “But I’ve never had any luck communicating with fish.”

“If you hear the bell, make sure you come straight back,” I said.

As we separated, I headed over to the houses. As I approached the first one, I noticed the door was open. Inside, William Bradford sat in his chair with his elbows resting on a crude table. He had a quill pen in one hand and he looked to be writing in a small notebook. He also looked to be in deep thought. For a minute I thought maybe I should leave, but I said to myself how often can you pop in and have a chat with one of your all-time heroes? I mean it’s one thing to read about the Pilgrims and the leader of the first colony, and it’s another to actually walk through his door and be able to ask him in person any intelligent question you could think of.

I softly knocked on the door.

William turned and said, “Rush Revere, you’re always the last person I expect to see but it’s always good to see you. Come in. Please, have a seat. I hope your travels have been kind to you?” He pointed to the oak chest sitting near his desk.

“Thank you,” I said. “Yes, traveling and exploring have been good to me. I’ve learned much and hope to be able to share it
someday with my history class.” I looked around his modest home and noticed a fireplace took up one side of the room, a bed against another wall, and a Bible and silver drinking cup rested on his desk. His musket hung from pegs on the wall. I cleared my throat and said, “It’s great to see the settlement growing.”

“Yes, it’s growing,” said William, “but not as fast as it could.”

“Why is that?” I asked. “Do you not have enough trees or supplies to build houses?”

“Well, no, not exactly. I can’t remember if I told you while we were on the boat or not, but we have a contract with our sponsors in England, the ones who helped us pay for this voyage. The contract says that everything we produce or harvest, like food, furs, furniture, etc., must go into a common store and each member of the community is entitled to one common share. Eventually, we hope to make enough to pay back our sponsors in England. But I’m finding it difficult to get our people to work.”

I pondered his comment and said, “So you’re saying that everything that is produced, all the profits, go into, let’s say, a box. And then everyone gets one equal share of what’s in the box regardless of how much work they do or how much they produce.”

“Correct,” said William, “and some people figure that it doesn’t matter how much they work because they’re still going to get an equal share of what’s in the box. I can’t really blame them. I mean what is the incentive to work hard if you know the other person will get the same reward doing little to no work?”

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” I said. I thought about Tommy’s football coach and the question he asked all the boys after practice. He said, “What would you think if two teams playing against each other get the same amount of points regardless of
how many touchdowns they make?” The boys booed the coach, and Tommy asked, “What’s the purpose of playing if nobody can win?” The coach replied, “Exactly! So get out there this Saturday and play hard! Play to win! There are a few of you who think you don’t have to play hard to win a championship. Some of you think you deserve part of the trophy even though you’re not giving your best effort. I’m here to tell you that if I see slackers out there, I’m cutting you from the team. And if you don’t think that’s fair, then you don’t understand what it means be a champion!” Then the coach led them in the chant, “Play to win! Play to win! Play to win!” I then thought of the Pilgrims. They initially tried to make everyone winners but soon realized the attempt was failing because not everyone wanted to work hard enough to be champions. The truth is, when we try to make everyone a winner, no one’s a winner.

William continued. “We thought people would be happy with a commonwealth, where no one owns property but rather shares what everyone else has. Instead, the idea is bringing much confusion and discontent.”

To be clear, I asked, “If no one owns property, then you don’t own your house or your garden or your business.”

“Correct,” William said. “I live here, but the house, the garden, or a business belongs to the community. And it has caused many of our people to do less instead of do more. We thought everyone working for each other would help the community flourish and prosper. But that hasn’t been the case because men who work harder and smarter are beginning to wonder why they are putting all of their profits into a common box, as you say, so that other men who choose not to work receive an equal share of the profits. For the first time since the boat, I can see real
tension developing! Anytime that I am in the Common House, at least three people come up to me to tell me they don’t want to be doing all the work while their neighbor is sleeping! I’m beginning to wonder if the solution to our problems is for everybody to keep what they produce.”

A knock came at the open door. “Sorry to interrupt,” said Tommy. “Freedom and some other girls started braiding each other’s hair and that’s not really my thing. So I came to find you.”