PLYMOUTH MAYFLOWERS 13 



Manomet." In the velvety blackness of this ul- 

 timate hour of night the slender sail curved 

 sweetly backward toward the sea, and the shallop 

 seemed drawn to the land by a lodestone, as was 

 the ship of Sindbad the Sailor, and when it mag- 

 ically climbed the dark headland and sailed away 

 into the sky above, it drew out of the sea behind 

 it the first light of glorious morning. From 

 Manomet head to the Gurnet the horizon showed 

 a level sea line of palest garnet that deepened, 

 moment by moment, till the coming sun arched it 

 with rose and bounded from it, a flattened glob- 

 ule of ruby fire. I like to think that the path 

 of gold with which the sun glorified the stippled 

 steel of the sea was the very one by which the 

 first Mayflower came in from Provincetown, the 

 sails nobly set and the ship pressing onward to 

 that memorable anchorage within the protecting 

 white arm of the sandspit. 



I like to think that the sweet curve of the old 

 moon's slender sail sways in by Manomet each 

 month in loving remembrance of that other shal- 

 lop that so magically won by the roar of the 

 breakers on the dark point and brought the 

 simple record of faith and courage for our loving 

 remembrance. But whether these things are so 



