by Anthony Romero
The Pilgrims spent several days sailing around, looking for a good place to settle down.
"Hey! This looks like a good place, let's land here!" said John Carver. That day, he wore a black hat and black shoes. All the Pilgrims thought that Cape Cod was heaven because it looked so beautiful. The sand was sparkling yellow and the waves were as gentle as a bunny.
"You're @#%&* right we should land here!" yelled the sailor from the top mast.
"Hey! I thought you remembered how that other sailor died!" yelled Christopher Jones. "So don't swear!" Christopher Jones was the captain of the Mayflower. He had short dark hair that looked like rat fur.
So the Pilgrims decided to spend the night there at Cape Cod. But that night, one of the Pilgrims woke up and heard a cry.
"Did you hear that?" William Mullins said, tapping John Carver on the head.
"Wolves!" Myles Standish yelped at the top of his lungs. The men gathered up their guns and pointed them at the sky. Then they shot twice. The cry stopped. Myles Standish was a strong, rough man who had been in the army. The Pilgrims had hired him to help them defend themselves against any dangers they might find in the New World.
But in the morning, they heard the same awful cry they had heard the night before.
"Wolves in the morning?" said Edward Winslow. "Impossible!" Then arrows began to fly!
"Indians!" cried Myles Standish. He fired off a shot. The Natives yelled again. To William Bradford, it sounded like "Woath! Woath! Ha! Ha! Hach! Waoch!"
Arrows flew. Guns roared. The Natives were quick enough to duck from the deadly bullets, and none of the Pilgrims were hit by arrows. Soon, the Natives ran away.
"I think maybe we should leave this place," said William Bradford. So the Pilgrims set out on the ocean again.