‘And now Sir, having I hope sufficiently proved that Numbers of People are the Strength and Riches of the Nation and that the Admission of Foreigners are advantageous to this Kingdom, without Detriment to the poorer sort of our Nation, I proceed to your next request – to give you an exact Account of the Number of the Palatines already arrived…At several times from the 1st of May last past to the 18th of July 1709, there have been landed in England of these distressed Palatines the exact number of 10,000 souls." – Daniel Defoe, A Brief History of the Poor Palatine Refugees, 1709
I
Why do we have to dig the crops into the earth, Mein Daddy? Why has the soil gone black? I am so cold, though I can still feel the fierce flames of our houses; I am so hungry, though I still have the bitter taste from seeing soldiers carrying our winter stores away. Where are we going, Mein Daddy? My lips are stiff and my teeth chatter without words, and though I’m hungry I could not eat. My tummy button is touching the bone in my back. We’ve never been away before. Is everybody going? Everybody who can, who has not been taken by God? We’ve nothing to carry with us: even our vine dressing knives have been snatched from us.
Know forbearance, Mein Laddy. And trust in the Lord. All the sins that have driven us to death’s door cannot be our own. There is no choice but to go away from here, no highway but the river, no end to it but the sea. Jump aboard the raft now, and we will be on our way. There is no looking back.
II
How long, Mein Daddy, before we get there? Already it has taken more days than there are in all of Lent. How long before the roaring water lets us go? Will the raft take us much further? Will we soon be with-God, like the with-God neighbours we left behind, like the with-God bodies drifting by us in the water? Waves keep splashing into the grape basket where I’m sitting and I am always wet. Soon I will have scales, like a fish. Why do rivers go only forwards and never back? Do they all rush towards the end of the day? Do they ever sleep at night? When you are asleep, Mein Daddy, I try to steer the raft but I often nod off. The other rafts and boats keep us going, pushing us along. I get giddy when we spin around. I don’t like being woken by the men on the river, from the castles and the towns, who think we have possessions and money. How they hate us for having nothing. I don’t like to sleep in case I go with God and never wake up.
Know forbearance, Mein Laddy, and trust in the Lord. The river is getting wider and we are starting to slow down. There is salt in the water and white birds in the air. We are nearing the sea.
III
Put me on your shoulders, Mein Daddy, so I can see how far these people are gathered, so I can see all the distant corners of this city of Rotterdam. You are not tall enough. I would need to climb the masts of the ships or the spires of the churches to make out the start of the crowd and the end of the town. We are on the edge of the world. So much push and noise, so many sick and with-God bodies being carried away. But more people are coming down the river, pushing us into the ships and over the sea towards the setting sun.
Know forbearance, Mein Laddy. And trust in the Lord. Over there, beyond the sea where the sun falls, is the Queen of England, who has promised us money and invited us to stay.
IV
There are so many of us on the ship, Mein daddy, a herring would not fit between us, not even when the with-God are thrown overboard. I don’t like boats of any kind. I feel sick with the smell of people and their rotting, with the rock and the heaving of the timbers, with the sails that slap like the wings of a bird caught in a trap. We took food for three days, but it has been five days now, with no land to look at. Sometimes, when there is no wind, it seems as if we are going backwards. At least on the river there were fields to look at. Now the wind is blowing against us trying to push us back where we came from, but we keep going from side to side to move forward as much as we can. Low marshes have appeared, first on one side, then on the other, moving closer together, sucking us into the mouth of another river, swallowing us up into the belly of the land. Two rivers, two breaths: one behind us blowing us out into the ocean, the other one in front, inhaling us on to the safe earth again. Other ships here are not as crowded as ours: they look rich and full of food. Are there fields at the end of this river where we can grow vines and build a shelter? I don’t want to travel on the water ever again.
Forbearance, Mein Laddy, and trust in the Lord. Her Majesty the Queen will provide. Look at the hill over there to the south, above her white palace? There are a thousand tents pitched for us, with food and clothing. We have been half naked and half starved for too long.
V
When can we find work, Mein Daddy? There is nothing to do but to go to church for the sacraments, and for burials. I cannot play with sticks and stones forever. Why do people come and look at us? Why do they try to sell us books when we don’t know our letters and we don’t know their language? What about the others who came over the sea with us, who are not in the tents? The ones in warehouses and wharves, in barns and in the houses of the pastors? Do they have something to do all day? Do they have money and work?
Know forbearance, Mein Laddy, and trust in the Lord. We must keep going west. The Queen in her wisdom has given land in her colonies for us to settle, in Ireland, and in America, where the pine forests beside a great river will provide work, to make tar, pitch and terpentine for her navy, the mistress of the seas.
VI
I have forborne so much, Mein Daddy, and I have trusted in the Lord. But I am sick. Sick of hunger, sick of so much emptiness, sick of chasing the sun falling into the sea. It is so long since we left England, twice as long as the fasting of Lent, so many days and nights just the same, with no sight of anything but water and waves. Is America really there, or is it something they dreamt up to make us go away? I am sick of the foul drinking water. I don’t want to have to eat rats any more or listen to the splash of the with-Gods being pushed over the side into the water. Let me go with them, Mein Daddy, let me be useful food for the fish. I am too discomfited by the voyage, too worn out with hunger and dirt, too pained with sores and disease. Let it end, please, Mein Daddy, let it all end.
You have known forbearance, Mein Laddy, and you have trusted in the Lord, who has ordained that you shall see Him before I ever do. So be it, He must have His way. Her majesty’s navy will sail without our help. Tell the Lord I am coming soon, too. I won’t keep Him waiting long. He has asked many things of us. Now there are many things I would like to ask Him.
© Roger Williams
• Extract from Father Thames by Roger Williams, to be published by Bristol Book Publishing in 2012
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