Not only these, but several other men of wealth and pious ministers, were
in the cabin of the Arbella. One had banished himself for ever from the
old hall where his ancestors had lived for hundreds of years. Another had
left his quiet parsonage, in a country town of England. Others had come
from the universities of Oxford or Cambridge, where they had gained great
fame for their learning. And here they all were, tossing upon the
uncertain and dangerous sea, and bound for a home that was more dangerous
than even the sea itself. In the cabin, likewise, sat the Lady Arbella in
her chair, with a gentle and sweet expression on her face, but looking too
pale and feeble to endure the hardships of the wilderness.

Every morning and evening the Lady Arbella gave up her great chair to one
of the ministers, who took his place in it and read passages from the
Bible to his companions. And thus, with prayers and pious conversation,
and frequent singing of hymns, which the breezes caught from their lips
and scattered far over the desolate waves, they prosecuted their voyage,
and sailed into the harbor of Salem in the month of June.

At that period there were but six or eight dwellings in the town; and
these were miserable hovels, with roofs of straw and wooden chimneys. The
passengers in the fleet either built huts with bark and branches of trees,
or erected tents of cloth till they could provide themselves with better
shelter. Many of them went to form a settlement at Charlestown. It was
thought fit that the Lady Arbella should tarry in Salem for a time; she
was probably received as a guest into the family of John Endicott. He was
the chief person in the plantation, and had the only comfortable house
which the new comers had beheld since they left England. So now, children,
you must imagine Grandfather’s chair in the midst of a new scene.