Departing Bristol under
full sail the 9th of June, after much travail and loss of life,
including that of my dear wife of eleven years, we arrived on the
29th of October, 1616, off the shore of Massachusetts where lived our
dear brethren. However, it was God's will that a fierce storm should
come up, and we were driven southward by violent wind and the
irresistible force of waves for two full days.
On the 31st of October, to
our relief, we voyagers awakened to find ourselves in safe harbor we
knew not where. In the distance through an impenetrable fog strange
yellow lights beckoned to us, and we knew, perforce, that we must lie
not far from land.
So taking seven stout
fellows in the shallop, we rowed from the sloop, which we left
anchored in the harbor, in the direction of land. Not over a half of
an hour later, we touched shore on some large rocks and with much
rejoicing drew our small craft up onto dry land.
Immediately we tumbled to
solid ground and knelt in prayer, giving thanks to our creator for
deliverance from the wrath of the sea and praying that this newfound
land should yield us both victual and fresh water, for our supplies
aboard ship had dwindled to nothing.
As the fog shrouded the
landscape in an impenetrable mist of gray, we could not see exactly
where we were, but not far off we discovered a grassy plain as fair
as that surrounding Windsor Castle. Placing one foot upon a stone and
raising my sword in the air, I claimed this newfound land in the name
of Jesus Christ and his servant, King James the 1st of England.
At the suggestion of
William Coakley, my second in command, we took the occasion to build
a small fire, whereupon we boiled water for tea and moistened some
dried beans that we had brought with us from the sloop for victual.
We had barely completed our tea, when the Lord chose to lift the
dense curtain of fog that enveloped us, penetrating it with radiant
beams of sun.
Immediately, our entire
party fell back in amazement, for we saw at once we were surrounded
by a city far more grand than London with towering buildings of
indescribable immensity, wide thoroughfares, not of mud, but of
crushed stone of some sort, and strange metal vehicles with no visual
means of propulsion.
"What does the
captain make of this?" William Coakley said to me, his voice
full of wonder.
"Our brethren in
Massachusetts have reported to us that they have chanced upon red
savages native to this land they call America. Perchance we have
discovered one of their cities," I said, scratching at my helmet
"If that be true,
then these savages have achieved a remarkable degree of
civilization," William replied.
not, William. Bricks and mortar do not a civilization make," I
said, "For it is the quality of the heart that matters most."
replied, pointing to our left to a vast hole in the earth, littered
with twisted metal. "And these savages apparently have bitter
enemies, for look at the remains of what was their castle
fortification now lies totally in ruins."
"Dread enemies those
must be!" I said. "But let us go now and explore this city
and see if its inhabitants be friendly and if, by chance, we can
purchase food and drink."
So saying, I ordered our
troops to shoulder arms, and we began to march up a broad
thoroughfare flanked on each side by mighty buildings. We had not
gone much over a quarter of a mile when we saw an amazing sight.
Standing on a corner we
saw two African youths clad in trousers that barely reached their
knees and wearing cloth caps backwards upon their heads.
"I was given to
believe the inhabitants of this land were red men," young Israel
Parham, a lad of no more than 19 himself, cried out in amazement at
seeing ebony-skinned creatures such as these.
"Perhaps they have
been taken as slaves," I said in puzzlement as one of the youths
called out to us.
costumes!" he shouted.
Not understanding the
tenor of his remark, I called back. "What manner of land is
this? And how call you yourselves?"
"Sure talk funny,
dude," the African child replied.
"I know not 'dude',"
I said. "Can you take us to your slave master?"
"You over the edge or
what, man?" the boy replied with a stinging, insolent tone.
"Seize them for
questioning," I ordered Israel Parham and God Save His Soul
Goodkin, who ran after the lads with raised swords. However, it was a
fruitless chase, for our young men were far too weighted down with
armor to catch the fleeing miscreants, and so we began to trudge in a
northerly direction along the broad, deserted street lined with only
a few trees.
However, we had not gone
much farther when we saw a banner strung across the thoroughfare from
lamp pole to lamp pole.
"What do you make of
that banner, sir?" William asked me.
I read it slowly aloud,
trying to penetrate its meaning. Annual Manhattan Gay March for
Justice. Support Your Local Queers.
"It is in English
that's clear enough, William," I said, "but I find myself
entirely baffled by its meaning. Perhaps a queer is a term for an
"That is most
certainly it," William said, nodding his head as we suddenly
heard the skirl of bagpipes and the hideous sound of pagan trumpets
and drums approaching.
"Be alert. A parade
comes," I cried, seizing my sword.
Then to our amazement a
band of marchers preceded by blue uniformed soldiers on tall, dark
chargers came around the corner, but not marching. Rather they
frolicked in a zany, wild sort of free-for-all that set us much in
shame and amazement, for they were dressed in such a fashion that it
pains me to recall. The hair of some was shaved completely to the
scalp while others trailed hair much longer than a self-respecting
courtier would wear. Their costumes were of an outlandish variety
inspired by the devil. Some wore nothing at all to the waist. Others
wore tight trousers stuffed with fruit or some such in order to make
their genitalia appear gigantic. One or two were hideously tattooed
like savages from finger to belly, and all were draped with jewelry
from ears, nose, to eyebrows.
As we watched in amazement
as this devilish coalition slithered our direction, it gradually
became clear to me what I was seeing. One of their numbers was
carrying, in the fashion of a cross, a huge papier mache imitation of
an erect, male organ.
"Do you see that foul
thing, sir?" William Coakley cried to me.
"Surely these are the
godless savages that our brethren in Massachusetts have warned us
of," I cried. "We must take action at once against their
And so saying I gave
orders to our men to kneel with their blunderbusses and fire, for he
who tempers with the devil becomes the tool of the devil himself.
As our men kneeled and lit
the fuses of their weapons, the laughing and merriment of the
paraders gave way to fearful shouts. Then the air was torn with the
dread sound of guns going off. I distinctly saw one of the devil's
disciples fall with a ball in his shoulder as everything about us
dissolved into chaos.
"Run for your lives,
men!" I cried, but we were instantly surrounded by a vengeful
crowd who pummeled us while the uniformed soldiers beat at our heads
with clubs. Only my stout helmet protected me as I, flailing
desperately with my sword, struggled with the fiends. During the
set-to, Israel Parham, Thomas Williams, our carpenter, and aged
Wilfred Stonecipher, my father-in-law, were shot down by the
disciples of the devil.
At that point, seeing the
futility of our position, I, too, began to run. I had just broken
free of a gang of marauders who were cursing and flailing at me when
a strange, horseless vehicle pulled beside me and its door flung
"Get in !" a
woman's voice commanded.
Seeing no other option, I
hurled myself into the chariot which immediately burst away from my
pursuers with an inexplicable explosion of speed. As I caught my
breath and tried to organize my thoughts, I turned to gaze at the
woman who had rescued me.
She was an incredibly,
alluring sight. Her bosom encased in a tight surplice of some sort,
bulged forward in gigantic proportions that made me gasp. Rather than
a skirt, she wore tight pants of a strange, slippery, dark leather.
Her lips were colored purple with some waxy substance; and her
fingernails were long and knifelike with aubergine coloring while
around her neck a huge serpent of some sort curled.
"Hi, I'm Morgana,"
she breathed in a voice that dripped with wanton sexuality.
"My name is Peter
Broadbones," I said, "military commander of the sloop
Godspeed, which lies at anchor in yon harbor."
she said, "you're pretty cute. I love your costume, and that
black beard of yours is too, too much. You look like you're all man."
"I know not what
costume you refer to," I said, "but yes I am a man."
"Well men always find
me-uh-sexually attractive. How bout you, Peter?"
Her insinuating ways made
it clear to me at once that she was no real woman at all, but a tool
of the devil.
"I find you
repulsive," I said. "You must get me to the shallop."
"Aw Pete," she
said. "Forget the shallop. You just need to see me naked. Now
what the hell's a shallop?"
"No I must get to the
boat at once!" I cried, holding my sword to her neck.
"Hey put away the
knife, big boy. So where's your boat parked?"
"What is parked?"
"It's what you and I
ought to be up to."
"You speak with the
tongue of the devil," I cried. "Let me out of your accursed
"Oh man, Peter.
You're a hopeless case," she said, putting her hand on my left
Calling upon the Lord for
defense against her alluring ways, for I am a man of much passion, I
raised my sword as if to cut off her wrist and tumbled straightaway
from her amazing vehicle.
No sooner than I had freed
myself from the entangling web of this Delilah, I found myself
scrambling to safety as this mad confederate of Old Scratch himself
drove her machine recklessly towards me, attempting to end my life.
It was only by a desperate leap that I managed to avoid certain death
as her vehicle smashed into a low, yellow receptacle that began to
spray water as high as a house as a result of the vehicle impaled
upon its sturdiness.
Wasting little time in
marveling at how water might boil up so profusely from underground in
the likes of this Satanic society, I bolted down a nearby alleyway
and had nearly achieved freedom when a strange, bearded creature the
size of a giant and as filthy as a man covered with sea-coal dust,
blocked my path.
"Hey you," he
cried. "Lend me five to get a bite to eat."
"Stand clear," I
shouted. "I have no time to deal with you."
However, this enemy of
Christendom moved to block my path.
"If you won't hand it
over, I'll take it," he bellowed, drawing a knife from his
I raised my sword in
"You crazy or what?"
he cried, flailing at me with his blade.
Smashing him with the flat
of my sword, I knocked him off balance. As he staggered into a pile
of stinking refuse and rotten fruit, I continued to run, uncertain
now which direction lay the shallop.
However, as soon as I
emerged from the alley, a blue vehicle with a piercing red light upon
its roof blocked my path. Two uniformed soldiers leaped from the war
engine and shouted in my direction, "Stop!"
Uncertain what to do, I
wheeled about and faced them directly; then I watched in agony as one
of them lifted a weapon of some sort from his holster and aimed it
directly at me.
I was about to continue to
run when he fired a lightning bolt of such ferocity from his weapon
that even its dreadful sound froze me in my tracks. Sheathing my
sword, I feebly submitted as the soldiers came forward and locked my
wrists into iron shackles and threw me into the rear of their vehicle
behind a cage suitable for a demented animal.
I was then taken to their
headquarters and roughly interrogated by a red-faced, deplorable
Irish-looking ape who sputtered when he spoke.
"OK, Broadbones, what
the hell are you doing in that getup?"
"I don't understand
the term 'getup'."
"I'm talking about
your clothes, pal. You got on this armored vest, and you're wearing
those high white socks, and you're carrying a sword."
suitable for my position as military commander of the sloop Godspeed
set sail from Bristol on the 9th of June of this year. You will find
that ship anchored in your harbor not far from our shallop."
"Oh yeah, Charlie. I
got you and your shallop, and I suppose you're 400 years old and can
ride on a broomstick?"
"I am thirty six, and
will, god willing, live thirty six more years and never mount a
Broadbones, I don't know what God wills," he said, "but
you're wanted in connection with the wounding of a marcher in the Gay
"Savage devils got
what they deserved!"
"Look, pal. We don't
have to like 'em, but sorry to let you know, you don't have a hunting
license for queers either."
"I know not what you
mean by these terms," I said with some spirit.
"OK, wild man. We're
going to read you your rights now, and then you're entitled to a
lawyer. You got one phone call."
"What is a phone?"
The white-haired papist
winked at the other soldiers who had gathered around with incredulous
looks upon their stupid faces.
To make a long story far
shorter, after much interrogation and pointless questioning followed
by nasty insinuations that there was no such ship as the Godspeed
tethered in their harbor, I was at length removed to a strange Bedlam
sort of place, not quite a prison, but with padded cells and locked
There it was my fortune to
be reunited with William Coakley, who had already been incarcerated.
Clad in a strange, blue wrapper of some sort, William was overjoyed
when he saw that I too was confined where he was.
cried. "They've captured you as well."
"Yes, the beasts,"
I said. "We've fallen among the godless savages our brethren in
Massachusetts have warned us of."
"Much to our good
fortune," William said.
"What?" I cried,
"Oh, Peter," he
said. "The victual here is delightful. It arrives every four
hours accompanied by sweet drink. At first I was frightened to
partake of what these people ate, fearing it was poisoned, but I have
since discovered it to be rich, filling, and of wondrous, tasty
properties. In particular I adore what these people call hamburgers."
"I know no such thing
as a hamburger," I asserted, "but verily I am hungry."
"That is excellent,"
William said, "it is nearly time to eat. But in the meantime we
must watch Oprah."
"What is this Oprah?"
"It is very strange,"
William said. "There is a magical box which contains pictures
and voices. The savages call this thing a television. On this
television comes an African woman of much beauty and wisdom who
speaks for an hour concerning this society."
"William, are you all
right?" I said, fiercely clutching my Bible. "There is no
such magical box!"
thereafter, William was to prove me wrong, and shortly beyond that I
discovered William's rash claim regarding the victual eaten here was
Since that time, William
and I have given up all hope and desire to return to the Godspeed. We
are required to do no labor and spend the day in soft, blue clothing
It is true sometimes we
are called upon to answer questions by what our captors call a
psychiatrist, but these are of no consequence; for William and I have
come to believe this "psychiatrist" is a madman, for he
roundly disputes the claim that we left Bristol by sailing ship
little over 141 days ago.
In the meantime, William
has introduced me to a brawling game much resembling that played by
our children in the streets of London, and we have become what the
savages here call "football fans."
In short, life in this
institution is far easier than any we might have imagined in the
bitter winters and harsh farming conditions of Massachusetts.
Gradually, too, we have come to understand the institutions of these
strange Godless savages among whom we have fallen. That they are
incurably corrupt beyond imagination, there is little doubt. But that
God has smiled upon William and me and placed us in a virtual heaven
on Earth where a man may pray eight hours a day is an indisputable
fact. For this gift we are both happy to offer praise to our maker
and, thus thrice daily, humbly bend ourselves to the task of giving
thanks for our salvation.