This is an excerpt written from Rev. Shepard's diary that illlustrates the great difficulties and perilous journey our ancestors encountered to reach New England.

On the 16th of October, 1634, Mr Shepard and his friends sailed from Harwich, Essex. They had proceeded but a few leagues, when the wind suddenly changed and they were obliged to cast anchor in a very dangerous place. The wind continued to blow all night and, on the morning of the 17th, became so violent that the ship dragged her anchors, and was driven upon the sands near the harbor of Harwich, where she was for some time in the most imminent peril. To add to their distress, one of the sailors, in endeavoring to execute an order, fell overboard and was carried a mile or more out to sea, apparently beyond the reach of any human aid.

The ship and crew were at the moment in so much danger, that no one could be spared to go in search of him, if, indeed, the boat could have lived a moment in the sea that was breaking around them. When the immediate danger to the ship was over, no one on board supposed the poor man was alive. He was discovered floating upon the waves at a great distance, though it was known that he was unable to swim. Three seamen put off in the boat, at the hazard of their lives, to save him. When they reached him, he exhibited no sign of life. One of the men was unwilling to give up his ship-mate without using all the means in their power for his resuscitation. Upon turning his head downward in order to let the water run out, he began to breathe. By the time they reached the ship, he was able to speak and had recovered the use of his limbs.

However, the storm's fury caused the ship to drift rapidly towards the sands where her destruction seemed inevitable. The master gave up all for lost and the passengers resorted to prayer. Guns were fired for assistance from the town, but, although thousands were spectators of their danger, and large rewards were offered to any who would venture their lives to save the passengers, the raging storm prohibited help from reaching them. It was known among the crowd that gazed from the walls of Yarmouth that the ship was full of Puritan emigrants, and therefore a peculiar interest was felt in the catastrophe which seemed to await her. Some fervently praying that the Lord would deliver his people, and others impiously rejoicing in their anticipated destruction.

The captain and the sailors had lost all presence of mind and believing that the storm was preternatural, and the ship was bewitched, made use of the only means of escape they could think of which was nailing red hot horseshoes to the mainmast as a charm. But there was a fellow on board named Cocke who advised that instead of nailing horseshoes to the mast, that it should be cut away as the only means of saving the ship. The captain and crew were bewildered by terror and incapable of listening to advice. Cocke assumed responsibility, called for hatchets, and encouraged the men to cut the masts down. The last small anchor was thrown out, but being very light, the ship continued drifting rapidly to shore.

The captain declared that he had done all that he could and desired the ministers to pray for help from above. Mr. Norton, with two hundred passengers, and Mr. Shepard, with the mariners on deck "went to prayer," and committed their souls and bodies unto the Lord that gave them." Immediately after prayer, the violence of the wind began to abate and "the ship ceased to drift and was stopped just when it was ready to be swallowed up of the sands."

They remained on board during a comfortless night in comparative safety as the storm continued to abate. On Sunday morning, October 19th, they went on shore. As the Puritans were very strict in their observance of the Sabbath, Mr. Shepard thought that they ought to have spent the day on board in praising the Lord for His interposition in their behalf. But there were many feeble persons on board who were unable to engage in religious exercises and were afraid the wind would rise again and they would all find their graves in the sands.

Mr. Shepard and his family left the ship in the first boat that was sent to take off passengers. Their only child, about a year old, was smitten with a mysterious illness and died two weeks later. He was buried at Yarmouth in a very private funeral. Mr. Shepard dared not be present lest the poursuivants should discover and apprehend him.

The violent storm and the death of his only son briefly diminished his desire of emigrating to New England, and made him almost willing to remain and suffer at home. When he remembered that there was no place in his native land where he could preach the gospel, his desire to emigrate revived. Roger and Samuel Harlakenden visited him and refreshed his spirit by their sympathy and assistance. The Harlakenden brothers defrayed the whole expense that Mr. Shepard and his wife could remain in a vacant home owned by Mrs. Corbet at Bastwick over the winter of 1634-35.

In the early spring of 1635, Mr. Shepard and Roger Harlakenden went to London to make all necessary arrangements for another attempt to leave England. During their fortnight in London, Mrs. Shepard, being near her period of confinement, fell from the top of the stairs to the bottom but was unharmed. Mrs. Sherbourne provided a private place for them and on Sunday, April 5th, 1635, their second son was born.

After passing most of the summer in London, passage was booked on the Defence for Mr. Shepard and his followers to depart on the 10th of August, 1635.