© 2016 Don Pinson | [Download]
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The spray from the waters of Cape Cod blowing in the wind was covering the men in the small boat. They were looking more and more like “ice men” as the spray quickly turned to ice as it hit their beards and clothing. The snow was becoming blinding. The wind was picking up now, making any site of land impossible. Not only was it looking like they wouldn’t be able to find a place to build their houses today, they were beginning to fear this might be their last day on earth. This storm was such a rage they began to pray in desperation that they could find any safe harbor. Suddenly, as if God had intervened, the wind died enough for one of them to see what he thought was a shoreline. They struggled desperately with the waves and the elements, and with great difficulty finally made land. They had no clue where they were, for in weeks of looking around Cape Cod for a place to settle their families, they had never been here before. They were really afraid because their guns had gotten wet and would not fire. They had already encountered the Indians in this area and they had proven to be enemies instead of friends. The men prayed and prayed for the storm to stop and for God to protect them.
The next morning when the sky had cleared the men found they were on an island in what is now Plymouth Bay. The storm had blown them through the narrow entrance of the bay just as if God had planned it so. Indeed they would come to believe Continue reading