“Our relations are the Bradfords,” said Goodman Pepperell with dignity.

“And a better man than the Governor never trod shoe-leather,” said the Captain heartily.  “He and Captain Standish and Mr. Brewster and Edward Winslow—­why, those four men have piloted this town through more squalls than would overtake most places in a hundred years!  If anything could kill ’em they would have been under ground years ago.  They ‘ve had starvation and Indians and the plague followin’ after ’em like a school of sharks ever since they dropped anchor here well nigh on to twenty years ago, and whatever happens they just thank the Lord as if ’t was a special blessing and go right along!  By jolly!” declared the Captain, blowing his nose violently, “they nigh about beat old Job for patience!  ’Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him,’ says old Job, but his troubles was all over after a bit, and he got rewarded with another full set of wives and children and worldly goods, so he could see plain as print that righteousness paid.  But these men,—­their reward for trouble is just more trouble, fer ’s I can see.  They surely do beat all for piety.”

“‘Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth,’” quoted the Goodman.

“The Lord must be mighty partial to Plymouth, then,” answered the Captain as he brought the sloop gently round the point, “for she ’s been shown enough favor to spile her, according to my way of thinkin’.”

[Illustration]

It was too late to go ashore that night, and from the deck Dan watched the stars come out over the little village, not dreaming that it held in its humble keeping the brave spirit of a great nation that was to be.

When Daniel opened his eyes next morning, his father and the Captain were already stowing various packages in the small boat, and from the tiny forecastle came an appetizing smell of frying fish.

“Here ye be,” said the Captain cheerily to Dan, “bright as a new shilling and ready to eat I ’ll be bound.  As soon as we ’ve had a bite we ’ll go ashore.  I ’ve got to row clear over to Duxbury after I do my errands in Plymouth, but I ’ll hunt ye up when I get back.  Nobody can get lost in this town without he goes out of it!  I could spot ye from the deck most anywhere on the map.  Then, my lad, if your father says the word, I ’ll bring ye back to the Lucy Ann while he goes across the neck.  Ye ‘ll get a taste of mackerel-fishing if ye come along o’ me.  Ye can make yourself handy on deck and keep a quarter of your own catch for yourself if you ’re lively.  A tub of salt fish would be a tidy present to your mother when you get back home.”

“Oh, I want to go with you,” cried Daniel, remembering with terror what was expected of him in the way of manners should he be invited to stay at the Governor’s.  He looked questioningly at his father, but was answered only by a grave smile, and he knew better than to plead.

“Here, now,” cried the Captain, as Timothy appeared with a big trencher of smoking fish and corn bread, “tie up to the dock and stow away some of this cargo in your insides.”