Since
a boy of sixteen he had led a wandering adventurous life - a life
cramful of heroic deeds, of hairbreadth escapes of which we have
no space to tell here. But I hope some day you will read his own
story of these days. For he was a writer as well as a warrior, and
"what his sword did his pen wrote." Every American boy and girl
should read his story, for he has been called the first American
writer.
Now with this saucy, swaggering fellow on board, troubles were not
far to seek. The voyage was long and tedious. For six weeks adverse
winds kept the little fleet prisoner in the English Channel within
sight of English shores, a thing trying to the tempers of men used
to action, and burning with impatience to reach the land beyond
the seas. They lay idle with nothing to do but talk. So they fell
to discussing matters about the colony they were to found. And from
discussing they fell to disputing until it ended at length in a
bitter quarrel between Smith and another of the adventurers, Captain
Edward Wingfield.
Captain Wingfield was twice John Smith's age, and deemed that he knew
much better how a colony ought to be formed than this dictatorial
youth of twenty-seven. He himself was just as dictatorial and
narrow into the bargain. So between the two the voyage was by no
means peaceful.
Good Master Hunt, the preacher who went with the expedition, in
spite of the fact that he was so weak and ill that few thought he
would live, did his best to still the angry passions.
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