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Table of Contents
Dedication

THE HEARTBREAKERS

The Heartbreakers | 1. | No Peace In Hell

2. | Home Sweet Home

3. | Vodka Shots And The Friend Zone

4. | Different But Also The Same

5. | Truths And Reunions

6. | Kisses And Deals

7. | No Angels

8. | A Deal With The Devils

9. | The First Lesson

10. | Taking The Plunge

11. | Under The Stars

12. | Texts And Letters

13. | Not My Type

14. | No Angel

15. | VIP Visit

16. | Fear Of Heights

17. | Size Matters

18. | Face Your Fears

19. | Tame The Heartbreakers

20. | Playing In The Snow

21. | Family Matters

The Lieutenant | 1. | That Strange Walk

 This book is dedicated to Patrick DeGayardon.

He pioneered flying in a wingsuit, skydiving and BASE

jumping and his courage, ability and charisma will never be
forgotten.
 THE HEARTBREAKERS

C
opyright © 2022 Melissa Adams
Published by Melissa Adams

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be

reproduced/transmitted/distributed in any form. No part of this
publication shall be shared by any means including photocopying,
recording, or any electronic/mechanical method, or the Internet,
without prior written consent of the author. Cases of brief quotations
embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses
permitted by copyright law are the exception. The unauthorized
reproduction/transmitting of this work is illegal. This book is a work
of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places,
events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are products
of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
 The Heartbreakers
1.
No Peace In Hell
Peyton

“PEYTON, PEYTON! DO you think you have a shot at the World

Championship this year? Is it true that Wild Horse Energy Drinks
chose to sponsor the Cove Angels because of your reckless
lifestyle?”
The paps are right up my ass, mere yards away from where I
just landed.
Motherfuckers!
I unclip my parachute without bothering packing it back up and
storm off.
“Peyton, Peyton!”
Those fuckers don’t give up and I’m not in the mood, so I
quicken my pace and flip them off before disappearing back inside
the hangar and into our divers staff area without looking back.
I begin unzipping my wingsuit as soon as I enter our private
locker room.
“Hey, dude!” Channing smirks at me, loosening his grip on the
hair of the brunette who’s bobbing up and down between his thighs.
He doesn’t look bothered by my intrusion and I shake my head.
Typical Channing.
“Have you seen my dad?” I ask him, annoyed by the fact that we
have an audience here too. I swear to fucking God, today no one
leaves me the fuck alone. “He knows I hate having any type of
audience around unless it’s an official diving day.”
 Channing’s gaze glazes over, his lids growing heavier as the girl
picks up speed, moaning loudly around his cock.
I roll my eyes, chuckling at how skewed my best friend’s
priorities are. I begin taking off the wingsuit and think that I wish
my passion was football or surfing or fucking drag racing, anything
but skydiving or BASE jumping; anything where I didn’t have to
compete with Darrius Penn.
I’ve just fastened the button of my shorts when a grunt coming
from Channing’s direction tells me that he’s done with ... what’s her
name? For the fucking life of me, I can’t remember. Britney or
Bethany or something with a B, I think.
“Hey Peyton.” She smiles, licking her lips and not looking in a
hurry to fix her tank top that’s bunched up around her thin waist.
“You look tense. Maybe I can help?”
I think her name is Brooke, I’m almost sure. “Thanks B.” I smile,
opting for the safest option here. “I’m tired today and I need to have
a word with Channing, if you don’t mind?”
I wrap one arm around her shoulders, walking her to the locker
room door.
“Sure, I understand. I can wait outside if you guys want to hang
out later?”
Ah, yeah, no. We’ve been hanging out with Briana, I’m pretty
sure that’s her name, for the best part of a week now. I fucked her
once or twice, and the fact that I can’t remember her name tells me
all I need to know about the idea of keeping her around.
“We have a few things to talk about, babe.” I smile, opening the
door and ushering her out. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be
and I have too much respect for your time to keep you waiting. We’ll
call you later, ok?”
She smiles. “Aww, Peyton! You’re such a sweetheart!”
I take a step back when she tries to kiss me. I mean, I’ve fucked
my fair share of girls not only with Channing and Jameson in the
room, but with them. Sometimes we like to take turns, sometimes
we tag team, whatever we’re in the mood for, so I’m more than
comfortable with them; but the fact that it doesn’t bother me seeing
them naked, doesn’t mean that I’m attracted to them. I wouldn’t
even notice if she were trying to kiss me after blowing me, but
tasting my friends’ cum is where I draw a definite line. Thanks but
no thanks.
I sit on the bench opposite Channing, who’s tucked himself back
in in the meantime.
“Hey, thanks man.” He smiles. “I didn’t really know how to get rid
of Brielle.”
Ah, Brielle. I knew it started with a B; Briana was close enough, I
guess.
Channing continues. “I mean, when she offered me to blow me, I
declined and she started crying, so I didn’t know what to do.”
I shake my head. “You’re fucking welcome. That’s why I keep
telling you and J that a one night only policy is the best option. If
they’re gone before breakfast, they don’t get strange ideas, right?”
He shrugs. “I guess.”
Channing is too fucking nice, I swear to God. “Dude.” I sigh.
“This is where you go wrong. I mean, if you like a girl enough to
keep her around, be my fucking guest; but if not, the sooner you
send them on their way, the less awkward the goodbye. It’s not like
we promise them anything more than a good time, right?”
Channing nods but I know way too well that he can be a
pushover; all it takes are a couple of tears from anyone who owns a
pussy and he panics.
“So, did you see my dad?” I ask him now that his blood has
migrated away from his little head and back to his big one.
“He had a couple of meetings with possible sponsors. He took J
with him. They’ve been gone a while, so they should be back soon.”
As if summoned by Channing’s words, the locker room door
opens and my father steps inside with Jameson in tow.
They’re both in their best suits and under normal circumstances,
I wouldn’t miss this opportunity to rib J for being a pretty boy, but
the scowl on Dad’s face stops me in my tracks.
“How many times do I have to tell you guys that beyond the
front office is authorized staff only?”
I level a hard stare on a sheepish looking Channing but Dad isn’t
an idiot. “I don’t give a fuck who between you two was fucking her.
But we bumped into your flavor of the week as she was leaving and
she didn’t miss the opportunity to get noticed and tried to stick to J.”
Jameson nods, wiping some red lipstick off his face with the back
of his hand. “Yeah, I thought I took her home last night?”
Channing shrugs. “You did, but then she showed up here and I
didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t be rude, right?”
Right. And in Channing’s opinion, not being rude means sticking
his cock in her mouth. Fucking typical.
I’m about to crack a joke about it but Dad shakes his head and
by the way he’s grinding his jaw, I know he’s pissed.
The meeting with prospective sponsors must’ve not gone like he
hoped.
“That bad?” I ask.
“I have a few leads and a plan B that’s ambitious but might work
if everything else fails. I just need one thing from you guys,” he
says, with a tired sigh.
“We’ll win the next events and this year we’ll go to Nationals as
State Champions.” I promise.
Dad levels me with a hard stare. “I appreciate your drive and
your motivation, Peyton; but you know better than me that diving at
the level we want is fucking expensive. Wild Horse’s money would’ve
been a huge help. Especially if we want to beat the Angels and now,
instead, they have that sponsor.”
I feel fury mounting again. Always the damn Angels, always in
our fucking way! “We can beat those losers this year,” I declare.
“Especially with the mods I’m planning on our wingsuits.”
Dad sighs. “Can you even hear yourself, son?”
His tone rubs me the wrong way and I struggle to keep my
irritation at bay. “Why, you don’t believe we have the skills? We’ve
been training hard. And you know I have the technical knowledge to
design cutting edge wingsuits, I—”
“Wingsuits cost money, Peyton. And they need to be tested, and
that costs even more money if you want to do it in safety. I have no
doubt about your skills. And the Devils’ skills. But last year the Cove
Angels won State and then Nationals. That, with their legacy, means
that their pockets are full. Wild Horse going with them is a huge
blow for our team’s finances.”
I run a hand through my hair, now feeling positively furious.
“Well they fucking bet on the wrong horses! Mark my words, I’ll
fucking wipe the tarmac with Darrius Penn’s ass all summer. Like the
French team did with him at Worlds. And then the sponsors will line
up at our doors.”
I’m not being an arrogant asshole, I swear. That’s mostly Darrius
Penn’s job. He wins because he joined the best team in the country
and it’s his fault that years ago I wasn’t selected. “When I’m done
with that asshole and his team, Star Cove will have just one team,
the Cove Devils, like it should be.”
Dad interrupts me, the rivalry between our two teams runs deep
and it isn’t just sport related, it’s personal. “Right. But if you want
that to happen, we need sponsors. And if you want those to pan
out, there’s two things I need from the three of you.”
Something in his tone and in the way he’s looking at us tells me
that we won’t like whatever he’s about to say. “You need to be
civilized toward the Angels. No more spats during interviews and on
social media.”
I immediately react. “You know very well that they started it.
They keep going for our sponsors and they signed Trent just to spite
us!”
Dad shakes his head. “Right, that might be so and Trent left
because they offered him more money. I know you and Penn have
always hated each other, but you need to kept your fucking temper
in check.”
I roll my eyes. He knows that hell will freeze over before there’s
going to be peace between the Cove Angels and the Cove Devils.
“Peyton, I fucking mean it. Don’t rise to their provocations and
start cultivating a better relationship with the press. That’s one of
the things that drives sponsors away. Penn is the press’s sweetheart
and the sponsors love that.”
I grind my jaw; I know that the ass chewing isn’t over and I
willingly take the bait. “What’s the other thing? You said you needed
two things from us.”
 He nods. “Clean up your fucking image. Stop being photographed
with different groupies at every turn. Wild Horse passed on us
because of shit like this.” He opens his phone, showing me articles
I’ve seen before.
Tons of pics of us at parties, surrounded by different girls.
There’s a few where I have my hand down someone’s panties; one
of J doing body shots on a topless girl at a beach party; Channing
with a chick’s nipple in his mouth at a club and humping a different
girl on the dance floor at the same party later that night.
Every article talks about our wild partying and numerous
hookups; the press has named us “The Heartbreakers.”
I don’t fucking get what the problem is. “Are you serious?
Sponsors have a problem with a party or two?”
Dad puts his phone back in his pocket, his frustration is more
than clear. “You’re athletes, not fucking rock stars! Sponsors want a
cleaner image and if you want to have the money for your new
wingsuit, you three have to clean up your act. No more
Heartbreakers antics. Find yourself a steady girlfriend, or even
better, keep it in your pants.”
I look at my two best friends and they look as pissed as I am; we
aren’t the relationship types and what the fuck does it matter to
anyone if we play as hard as we work?
“With all respect Ken,” Channing objects. “We can try and be
better with the press and ignore Penn and his team of assholes, but
shouldn’t winning be what attracts sponsors? And it isn’t like Darrius
Penn doesn’t fuck around. He just broke up with his girlfriend and
the rumor is that he was caught cheating. So why is it that the
sponsors flock to him? He lost spectacularly at Worlds and he’s one
sleazy motherfucker if I ever saw one.”
Dad sighs. “It’s all down to perception, guys. If he fucks around
as much as you do, he certainly doesn’t get caught on camera doing
it. And you know better than me why he’s so popular.”
I clench my fists so hard that my knuckles turn white; the urge to
sink my fists in Darrius Penn’s face is stronger than ever. “Because
the Angels is Patrick DeLaurent’s team. They are The Team.”
And I’d be in his place if he hadn’t played dirty five years ago.
 Dad looks each of us in the eyes. “I’m only telling you what you
need to do to put us in the position to compete with him and even
out the odds. And I have just the thing that will kick start your new
image. And to do that, we need to look good in front of the enemy;
friendly even.”
I look at Dad as if he’s sprouted a second head. “Friendly? With
the Angels? I’m sorry, Dad, I mean no disrespect, but what the fuck
have you been smoking?” At the risk of repeating myself, we’ll be
friendly with the Angels when hell is under a thick slab of ice, with
Darrius Penn trapped right underneath it.
But whatever my father is planning, he’s dead serious. “I mean it,
Peyton. No more wild nights with groupies and no more fighting.
And it starts tonight. Gina DeLaurent is having a party to celebrate
her only daughter’s birthday. I’ve scored the three of you invites; of
course the Angels will be there. This is your first chance to start
building your new image. This is non-negotiable. Fail to show up or
get into any kind of trouble with Penn and his team, and so help me
God, I’m going to start recruiting a new team for the next State
event.”
I look at my brothers. Channing and Jameson look as excited I
am at the thought of making nice with fuckface Penn and his
cronies.
The fuck am I going to their lame party! But I get my stubborn
streak from my father and when our eyes meet I know that he isn’t
issuing an empty threat. Fuck my life, and most of all, fuck Darrius
Penn!
 2.
Home Sweet Home

Lenley

“MOM!” I CALL AS I PUSH the cart with my luggage into the tiny
arrival area of our local airport.
She looks behind me as if expecting to see the old me.
“Mom,” I utter softly and she gasps before wrapping me into a
tight hug.
“Lenley, baby! You look so grown up! France obviously suits you!
I almost didn’t recognize you. When did all this happen?” she asks,
pulling back to take a better look at me and gesturing toward the
golden highlights in my brown hair, the chic haircut and the carefully
applied makeup. “I sent away my little girl to spend a gap year with
her grand-mère and I get back a grown up, sophisticated knock-
out!”
I smile at the compliment and explain. “Mémère wanted to give
me a makeover as a bon voyage present. She took me out shopping
and we got haircuts and got new makeup ... it was fun.”
Mom smiles, obviously impressed with the results. “Whatever she
had you do, you look incredible! But when did it happen? Last time
we spoke ...”
I nod, following her out of the building and toward the parking
lot. “It’s been a month since the last time we video chatted, Mom.”
She immediately looks guilty. “You’re right. I’m so sorry, Lenley!
Between the last State championship event and all the meetings it
took to secure a sponsorship with Wild Horse, I don’t know where
time went.”
 I squeeze her hand as we stop in front of the trunk of her SUV.
“Like Papà used to say, time flies and when it doesn’t ...”
“... you make sure you do the flying instead.” She finishes with a
sad smile. “Well, your papà would’ve loved the idea of you spending
an entire year in his childhood home. Although I’m not sure he
would’ve been able to come to terms with his little girl being a
grown woman and so beautiful to boot.”
I inhale a shuddering breath. “Stop it, Mom. You’re going to
make me cry.”
She shakes her head, as overcome by emotion as I am. “No, let’s
not cry. Today is a happy occasion, I have my baby girl home after
an entire year and there’s a huge party tonight at the house.”
I get into the passenger seat and look at Mom, smiling. “My
birthday was a week ago. You didn’t need to go through all the
trouble of organizing a party. I know how busy you are. Especially
when there’s upcoming events.”
She immediately looks guilty. “It’s actually a party our new
sponsor wanted to throw. So I didn’t have to do much. Originally it
was meant to be yesterday, but when I mentioned to their rep that
you were coming home today, they decided to move it. They were
so excited to meet Patrick DeLaurent’s daughter ... They thought
that a welcome home/birthday party for you would be a great way
to start our relationship. I hope you don’t mind.”
I smile and Mom’s shoulders relax as she pulls out of the parking
spot. “I’m not mad, Mom. I know how hard you’ve been working to
keep Papà’s legacy alive and for the Cove Angels to grow and thrive
like he would’ve wanted. Papà would be proud of you.”
Mom keeps her eyes on the road, but I know she’s struggling
with tears again by the way her hands are gripping the steering
wheel.
“Your dad would have a lot to be proud of. But enough of that,
you know what I just thought? Darrius will be shocked when he sees
you. I was actually surprised that he had no idea you were coming
back. Haven’t you two been talking lately?”
I shake my head, making a non-committal noise; in reality, I
haven’t talked to my best friend and lifelong crush since the night
before the morning I booked a flight to France. I was eager to put
an entire ocean between me and Darrius to give myself time to lick
my wounds. Wounds inflicted by my best friend, the man I dreamed
of every waking moment and every night.
I sigh, a new wave of humiliation forming a lump in my throat at
the memory of the night of my eighteenth birthday. Unrequited love
is a real bitch, believe me.

A YEAR AGO

Lenley

I TOUCH THE STRAPS of my black, push-up bra, attempting to hide

them under the thinner straps of my tank top.
“Are you sure that I look good?” I ask my two best girlfriends,
Sarah and Kiara.
Sarah smiles, meeting my eyes through the full-length mirror
we’re all standing in front of. “You look hot,” she encourages me,
running a soothing hand through the long, silky curtain of my brown
hair. She’s spent over an hour straightening it to eliminate the
natural waves I usually sport.
I squirm uncomfortably, pulling at the low waistband of the
skinny jeans Kiara insisted I borrow; they fit me like a second skin,
to the point that I doubt I’ll be able to take them off without any
help. “I don’t know, maybe this is too much.” I hesitate. “These
contact lenses make my eyes feel dry, and I don’t feel like me
anymore.”
Kiara sighs frustrated, lowering herself onto my bed. “That’s the
whole fucking point, babe! You’ve been looking like ‘you’ for
eighteen years, and where did that take you?”
 Sarah throws a sequined pillow at her. “Rude! Lenley is pretty
and she’s absolutely adorable.”
Kiara rolls her eyes at our other bestie. “I’m not saying that she
isn’t pretty, Sarah. But it’s time to show Darrius what he’s been
missing all this time. You’ll admit that every single one of Darrius’
girlfriends so far isn’t the girl next-door type. He likes flashy and a
little slutty. Little cardigans and matching headbands don’t attract his
attention.”
Kiara has a point. “Maybe you’re right. He always goes for the
popular types.” My friend is emboldened by my admission and
charges on. “Duh! And you have to be braver when you’re with him,
Len. You need to make your move, or he’ll never know how you feel
about him.”
We’ve had this conversations a million times and we never agree.
“There’s too much at stake, Kiara,” I complain. “Darrius has been my
best friend since we were kids and our fathers flew together. Kyle
was so devastated when Papà died that he quitted skydiving the
next day. But he’s never stopped Darrius from pursuing his passion
and from being a part of the Angels ever since he was old enough to
jump. Darrius has grown up in my house more than in his own, he
calls my mom ‘Mom’. If he doesn’t feel the same way I do, I won’t
just lose him as a friend, I’ll put Papà’s team at risk. Mom keeps
saying that Darrius is the most talented skydiver she’s ever seen
since Papà. If he doesn’t love me the same way I do, he might find
being an Angel too much.”
Sarah shakes her head. “That’s ridiculous, Lenley. It’s true that if
he doesn’t love you the way you want, things might be awkward,
but I don’t think Darrius is stupid enough to destroy a lifelong
friendship.”
Kiara nods. “Sarah’s right. Plus, the Cove Angels are the most
prestigious team on this side of the pond. Where else would Darrius
go?”
Sarah shrugs. “Well, there’s that new team in town that moved
here from Texas. The Cove Devils.”
Kiara laughs. “Right, whatever! Those guys talk a big game but
what have they ever won? Last time I checked, they came third in
their State championship last year and didn’t even make it to
Nationals. I don’t think coming here to compete with the Angels is a
smart move.”
We can all agree on that. “True. Despite never winning another
World Championship since Papà, the Angels have always placed well
at Nationals. Mom has worked so hard to keep Dad’s legacy alive
and Patrick De Laurent is still a huge name in the skydiving and
BASE jumping world.”
Kiara folds her arms over her chest. “You’re damn right. That’s
why, even if things don’t work out between the two of you
romantically, I’m sure that Darrius wouldn’t leave the Angels. So stop
being a pussy, if you want to get him in your pussy!”
Sarah pushes her with a horrified giggle. “Ew! Do you have to
always be so gross? Maybe let’s start with getting a birthday kiss.
You have to learn how to walk before you start running.”
Kiara stands up, grabbing my biceps and pinning me in place
with her dark brown gaze. “That’s exactly the problem, Len. He’ll
never see you as a potential girlfriend if he doesn’t know you’re
interested. And he won’t know you’re interested if you don’t make a
move.”
I feel butterflies fluttering their wings in the pit of my stomach at
the idea of kissing him. I’ve been waiting for that my entire life.
“Maybe you’re right,” I concede. “I’ve been saving myself for him.
I’ve never even kissed anyone because I can’t bear the thought of
being with anyone else.”
Kiara tightens her hold on my arms, shaking me a little. “And I’ve
been telling you that that’s really dumb. Look, I get it, you’re in love
with him. I mean, I don’t even blame you, he’s one of the hottest
guys in town. But that’s exactly the problem, Len. You’re always
there, watching him date one girl after the other and stepping right
in when he dumps his flavor of the month and he’s bored. You get
your hopes up that each time is the time he’ll look at you and really
see you, but he never does. And he forgets about you the moment
he has a new piece of ass to chase.”
Her words hurt because they are partially true. “But he cares
about me, Kiara. We spend time together; we talk about everything.
He calls me every night to wish me sweet dreams.”
Kiara snorts, looking straight into my eyes, her face so close to
mine that the tips of our noses are almost touching. “That’s where
you totally fuck up, dude! He gets his dick wet wherever he wants,
fucking the dozens of groupies who hang around him and then he
gets the ‘girlfriend non-sexual side of the experience’ from you. You
have to admit that he gets to have his cake and eat it too and that
you’re allowing him to do that, even if it hurts you.”
I hate to hear Kiara’s words but she isn’t wrong. “But what am I
supposed to do? Telling him no when he wants to hang out? I care
about him,” I protest.
Kiara nods. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do. You need
to show him how important you are to him; even if by making him
miss you.”
She has a point but I’m not sure I can do that. “What if he
moves on if I’m not there for him and I lose him as a friend too?”
Just the idea makes tears burn behind my eyelids.
Kiara throws her hands in the air in a frustrated huff, I should’ve
expected it. “Then he wasn’t your fucking friend to begin with, Len!
As it is, he’s ‘breadcrumbing’ you, so I don’t think you have a lot to
lose.”
Sarah looks at Kiara with the same confusion I’m feeling. “Bread-
what?”
Kiara sighs again. “Breadcrumbing you. He keeps you interested
and hooked on him by giving up small amounts of time here and
there and putting minimum effort into your relationship. Just enough
to make you think he cares and keep you from telling him to fuck
off. But you aren’t one of his priorities. You’re there whenever he
needs you or when he’s bored, but his team, his girls, his other
friends, even his fucking car are more important than you.”
Fuck.
I don’t want to believe her but Kiara kinda has a point, I know it
deep down. “I—”
She wraps one arm around my shoulders. “Look Len, I’m not
saying he doesn’t give a shit about you, but you’re making it too
easy for him to cast you aside when something or someone else
catches his attention. It has to end tonight. He asked you out for
your birthday, so maybe for once in his life Darrius Penn has gotten
his head out of his own ass and he looked at someone other than
himself. All I’m saying is that this is your chance to show him that
you’re what he wants. So get out there and don’t be shy. My mom
always says, ‘the woman who dares is the one who walks up the
aisle and throws her wedding flowers for all the rest of the losers to
fight over.’”
Sarah nods, obviously sold on Kiara’s action plan. “Kiara isn’t
wrong, babe. You’ve been pining for him long enough, you need to
know if he’s into you.”
I lower my gaze, already feeling uncertainty taking hold of me.
“But he has a girlfriend; I spoke to him last night, when he asked
me to be his date at tonight’s party. If they’d split up, he’d have told
me.”
Kiara grabs my purse and puts it in my hands. “He and Lisa are
having problems; that’s what I’ve heard. So it’s your chance. Go get
him, tiger!” she says, pushing me out of my room and down the
stairs just as we hear Darrius’ corvette pulling up out front.
 3.
Vodka Shots And The Friend Zone

Lenley

ONE YEAR AGO, LATER that night.

He parks the car outside one of the houses toward the end of the
hill where the biggest mansions in Star Cove are dotted, well far
away from one another; each house has access to a private stretch
of beach.
It’s a ten minute ride from my house and I spend the entire time
babbling away about some book I just read and throwing Darrius the
occasional glance. I always do it, when I’m nervous, I always talk
because silence makes me uncomfortable.
He’s hot, the classic dark and handsome heartthrob; a perfect
physique on the slender side of athletic, wavy dark hair and intense
brown eyes.
He smiles at me as he pulls the handbrake and, for the millionth
time in my life, I wonder if his lips are as soft as they look.
Kiara says that his mouth is too big for the rest of the features on
his face, but to me, Darrius is perfect.
“We’re here, birthday girl,” he says, exiting the car and coming
around to open my door for me.
I take a deep breath before getting out of the car; I’ve seen
Darrius act like this, all gentlemanly, with his dates, but he’s never
done it with me.
Maybe he really broke up with Lisa and this is really a date?
Maybe he finally noticed how much I love him?
 He wraps one arm around my shoulders, ushering me toward the
house.
“Who lives here?” I ask. “I don’t think I’ve ever been here.”
His eyes stay fixed ahead of him as he answers. “The house
belongs to the owner of the new skydiving team in town. The Cove
Devils. This is their party. They throw one most weekends, as if they
had anything to celebrate since so far I’ve won every event they’ve
participated in. They weren’t great in Texas, but if they think they’ll
have an easier life here placing for Nationals they’re in for a rude
awakening.”
Loud music invades our senses as soon as he pushes the front
door open and we enter the house.
There are people everywhere; some are grinding against each
other in the middle of the dark living room, others are talking and
sipping on drinks.
I look outside through the open full-length patio doors and spot a
circle of people around a keg in the backyard.
“Let’s get my favorite birthday girl a drink, right? Let’s toast you
being eighteen. An official adult from today.”
Darrius has just turned twenty, so neither of us are of legal
drinking age but I don’t point it out. I doubt everyone who’s partying
and drinking in this house is twenty-one.
“What would you like?” he asks, as we find a table laden with
every kind of booze one could think of.
“I don’t know. You know I don’t drink much. Maybe a wine
cooler?”
Darrius beams at me; it’s his mischievous smile, the smile that
got us in trouble with my mom countless times when we were kids.
No matter what crazy idea he proposes, I can never say no to that
smile. “Wine cooler coming right up for the lady,” he says, opening
the bottle before offering it to me. “And vodka chasers for the both
of us.” He opens a brand new bottle of a top shelf vodka and pours
shots in two red solo cups, putting one in my free hand. “Come on,
Lenley, let’s have some fun tonight. At my three, are you ready?”
I’ve done shots just once before with Sarah and Kiara, but I’ve
watched him doing them with his dates or his teammates and I
know he’s going to think I’m a party pooper if I don’t join him.
I tip the plastic cup at his three and I’m surprised that the clear
liquid doesn’t burn on the way down, it just causes a pleasant
warmth to spread from my stomach into the rest of my body.
Maybe it’s because this is expensive stuff. The bottle Sarah had
gotten her older brother to buy for us was really cheap and burned
so much when I drank it that I only could do two shots.
Darrius smiles, pulling me close and circling my shoulders with
his arm again. “Come on, let’s go see who’s outside.” He takes the
bottle with him and guides me through the patio door, walking
through the huge backyard.
There are people gathered around the keg, taking turns doing
keg stands; further down there’s a pool table and some guys are
playing pool, surrounded by girls.
My attention is attracted by one tall guy with blond hair who has
his arms around two girls and has a third one on his lap.
He looks really confident and in his element while he’s watching
his opponent shoot and waiting for his turn. I envy that kind of
confidence and I keep watching him as he laughs, throwing his head
back and then nuzzling one of the girls’ necks while grabbing a
handful of the ass of the one that’s perched on his lap.
Darrius follows my gaze and narrows his eyes. “That guy is
fucking bad news, Len.”
I turn to look at him, surprised by the venom in his tone. “I don’t
have a clue who he is,” I appease him. “I just think he looks like he’s
having a great time.”
His tone becomes even lower, definitely laced with anger. “Oh,
yeah. That’s all the motherfucker seems to be interested in, that’s
why he doesn’t stand a fucking chance in hell of beating me. He
spends all his fucking time chasing pussy rather than training and
working hard.”
Now it makes sense. “Ah, is he one of the Cove Devils?”
Darrius nods. “Yeah, he’s the fucking team captain and our host
tonight. Lenley,” he says, suddenly serious, “take a good look at him
and stay the fuck away from him and his two friends and
teammates.”
 He looks toward the Olympic size pool on the further side of the
yard. “See the two guys in the hot tub with all those chicks?”
I follow his solo cup as he uses it to indicate in that direction.
“The Devils are bad news,” he bites out, grinding his jaw.
“They’ve been in town for barely six months and they aren’t known
for their diving or BASE jumping. The only thing they’ve managed to
make a name for themselves is sleeping around with anything that
breathes. People in our circles call them ‘The Heartbreakers.’”
“The Heartbreakers?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
Darrius nods. “Yeah. All they fucking care about is getting laid.
They’re never seen with the same girl twice. And now it looks like
one woman each isn’t even enough anymore. Like I said, they’re
fucking bad news, Len. They dump ‘em before the sheets even have
the chance to get cold.”
I nod, turning to look into Darrius’ eyes. I don’t understand why
those guys bother him so much. The Cove Angels have no rivals in
the state and very few worthy opponents at a national level.
Then it hits me; this isn’t completely sport related. Darrius is so
jealous of their success with women, that he keeps warning me off
them.
My heart swells in my chest at the thought that maybe he’s
telling me to stay away from them because he likes me. The scent of
his cologne and his arm wrapped around me and the shot of vodka I
just did probably contribute in accelerating my heart rate too.
Darrius pours us two more shots. “Bottoms up, birthday girl!” He
chuckles, downing his shot and then pouring more.
The vodka warms me up from the inside and also gives me some
clarity.
Darrius finally likes me the same way I like him. Kiara is right, I
need to make my move if I want to get out of the friend zone.
A loud burst of cheers pulls me out of my own thoughts and my
eyes go back to the pool table, where the blond guy is kissing one of
the girls and several people are cheering him for winning the match.
His deep, confident voice carries over here as he grabs a bottle
one of the three girls passes him. “Come on everyone! Let’s get this
fucking party started! Line up for body shots!”
 A small crowd hollers in excitement as the guy lifts the girl that
was on his lap earlier onto the pool table and pours some of the
content of the bottle on her stomach.
He then lowers his head, licking the girl’s stomach right about
where her navel should be.
I watch intently, unable to take my eyes away from the sensual
scene in front of me.
“Fucking loser!” Darrius mutters, grabbing my hand and dragging
me away, toward the beach.
We pass a group of people that look vaguely familiar but I don’t
really pay much attention to them. My hand enclosed in Darrius’
much larger one is short circuiting my brain and all I can think about
is that we’ll be alone once we leave the backyard.
We walk onto the soft sand for a few minutes, still holding hands.
The tension in his shoulder eases off gradually as we leave the party
behind us.
Darrius lowers himself onto a flat rock, where the music and the
noise of the party no longer reach us; the only noise is the lazy
drawl of the sea kissing the shore in slow, lazy waves and the
whisper of the wind that carries the scent of the ocean all the way to
us.
We no longer have our solo cups, so Darrius drinks his next shot
directly from the bottle, offering it to me straight after.
I drink a big sip, thinking that I have this shot thing down; I
don’t feel drunk, like ... at all.
“So birthday girl,” he says, bumping my shoulder with his and
offering me that conspiratorial smile he’s reserved only for me since
we were kids. “What are your plans for the summer? This is your
last summer of complete freedom before college, you need to make
it count.”
I smile back at him. “I decided to go to Bridgeport rather than
Princeton.”
His smile widens. “Really? I thought Princeton was your dream.”
I shrug. “Hm, yeah it was but I really thought about it when I
was accepted and the idea of going and really going are two
different things. I don’t know, first off I didn’t want to leave Mom.”
And you, I think but don’t dare say it out loud.
I know, I know.
Kiara would say that I’m a fucking coward but sue me, I’m on a
date with Darrius, alone with him on the beach and I don’t want to
screw this up.
He takes another sip from the bottle, offering it to me again.
“Just Mom?” he asks with a flirty smile that makes it hard to think
straight.
“Well, no. All my friends are here and New York sounded exciting
in theory, but when it became a true possibility, I thought about the
long winters, the snow and how far away I’d be from home. I’m a
California girl through and through. Plus, I’m going to be working at
the Angels HQ for the summer and I hope Mom will turn my
internship into a permanent position after I’m done with school.”
Darrius opens the bottle again. “I’ll fucking drink to that! It’s
great that you’re staying and working with us.” He lowers his voice
as I take the bottle from him with trembling hands. “I would’ve
missed you, all the way on the other side of the country.”
I drink again and the vodka isn’t the only thing warming my
insides. “I would’ve missed you too, D,” I whisper.
“So does that mean you don’t want to be a writer anymore?” he
asks, sounding genuinely interested in what I want to do with my
future.
“I still do.” I shrug. “But the Angels have always been my legacy,
even though I don’t dive or jump. Mom is going to train me to
handle social media and all the press aspects of the business, so
there’s going to be writing involved and creating content. I can write
the great American novel on the side.”
He nods. “That sounds great. You’ve always been so smart. Let’s
drink to our careers, we’ll win the World Championship together.”
He drinks again and then, rather than passing me the bottle, he
tips it to my lips, poring vodka straight into my mouth.
I didn’t expect such a large shot, so some of the booze trickles
down my chin and I start giggling uncontrollably.
Another random document with
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The little band which settled Providence on that June day, 1636, had grown
into a large town. With other towns they suffered the same injustice from
neighboring colonies. The assembly in Newport, September 19, 1642,
which intrusted the work of securing a charter to Williams, was in reality
fusing together these separate groups, which had a common enemy and
common principles, into a State. The Town of Providence, a great
monument to Roger Williams, must now give way to the State of Rhode
Island, which was destined to become a still larger monument to the ideals
of this great exponent of civil and religious liberty, “a liberty which does not
permit license in civil matters in contempt of law and order.”
 III
THE HISTORIC CUSTODIANS OF
SOUL-LIBERTY
Roger Williams must forever rank as one of the great epoch-makers of
the world, and to him impartial historians accord the honor of being
the first democrat. It was not until his expulsion from Salem Colony
that he became a Baptist, but the evidence is indisputable that he had
long been a Baptist at heart. He had spent much time among the
Baptists in England and was familiar with their doctrines and writings.
No sooner had Williams set foot in America than he found himself in
conflict with the authorities, both civil and religious.—S. Z. Batten, in
“The Christian State.”
There is not a confession of faith, nor a creed, framed by any of the
Reformers, which does not give the magistrate a coercive power in
religion, and almost every one at the same time curses the resisting
Baptists.—E. B. Underhill, in “Struggles and Triumphs.”
Godly princes may lawfully issue edicts for compelling obstinate and
rebellious persons to worship the true God and to maintain the unity of
the faith.—Calvin.
Democracy, I do not conceyve that ever God did ordeyne as a fit
government eyther for Church or Commonwealth.... As for monarchy
and aristocracy, they are both of them clearly approved, and directed
in Scripture.—John Cotton.
It is said that Men ought to have Liberty of their Conscience, and that
it is Persecution to debar them of it; I can stand amazed than reply to
this: It is an astonishment to think that the brains of men should be
parboiled in such impious ignorance.—Rev. Nathaniel Ward, Lawyer
Divine, of Ipswich, who drew up the first legal code for Massachusetts
Bay Colony.

R
OGER WILLIAMS, both minister and citizen, probably led the
Providence planters in their religious activities. He was neither
identified with the Established Church of England, nor in
sympathy with the intolerance of the new established order at Boston
and Salem, or even the one at Plymouth. He was a Separatist of the
most pronounced type, and that was exactly the accredited Baptist
position. He was one with the Baptists in his ideas concerning a
complete separation from the State Church of England, one with
them in the absolute separation of Church and State, one with them
in insisting upon a regenerate church-membership. So according to
the logic of the situation he turned to the Baptist movement. He may
have been instructed as to their position by Mrs. Scott (the sister of
the Antinomian, Mrs. Ann Hutchinson), who came to Providence
shortly before the baptism of Williams. Roger Williams had been
accused of tendencies toward the Anabaptists while in Plymouth,
Salem, and Boston. Before he met Mrs. Scott, however, he held the
Baptist positions of the time. It is not unlikely that she, being an
intelligent Baptist, showed Williams the remarkable similarity
between his position and that of the Baptists. Some time before
March, 1639, Williams was baptized. In the absence of a Baptist
minister, Ezekiel Holliman, an exile from Salem, baptized Roger
Williams, who in turn baptized Mr. Holliman and some ten others.
Like the disciple band of old the Baptist movement in Providence
and America commenced with a band of twelve disciples. Their
names are as follows: Roger Williams, Ezekiel Holliman, William
Arnold (?),[1] William Harris, Stukely Westcott, John Green, Richard
Waterman, Thomas James, Robert Cole, William Carpenter (?),
Francis Weston, and Thomas Olney. Thus was organized the First
Baptist Church in America.
[1] The “?” is after Arnold’s name in First Baptist Church Register.
Great was the consternation in Salem when news reached there of
the baptism of Williams and others who had been members of their
church. The Puritan church took action at once. The letter
announcing to the church at Dorchester the exclusion of the
offenders is interesting:
Reverend and dearly beloved in the Lord:
We thought it our bounden duty to acquaint you with the names of
such persons, as have had the great censure passed upon them, in
this our church, with the reasons thereof, beseeching you in the Lord,
not only to read their names in public to yours, but also to give us the
 like notice of any dealt with in like manner by you, so that we may
walk toward them accordingly, for some of us here have had
communion ignorantly with some of other churches. 2 Thess. 3:14.
We can do no less than have such noted as disobey the truth.
Roger Williams and his wife, John Throckmorton and his wife,
Thomas Olney and his wife, Stukely Westcott and his wife, Mary
Holliman, Widow Reeves.
These wholly refused to hear the church, denying it, and all the
churches in the Bay, to be true churches, and (except two) are all
rebaptized.
After some time Roger Williams left the Baptist church he had
organized in Providence. Because of this fact many have asked the
question, “Was Roger Williams after all a Baptist?” His life-story
reveals the fact that he held the Baptist views before he left
Plymouth. Elder Brewster detected the Baptist heresy in his teaching
to the people of the Pilgrim colony and warned the leaders of the
Bay Colony of this tendency to “Anabaptistery.” Williams’ ministry in
the Bay Colony reveals the fact that he was against everything which
was related to the Episcopacy or that might even lead to a
“presbytery.” He refused to minister to the Boston church because it
was related to the Episcopal State Church of England. He also
questioned the propriety of the ministers’ conference in New
England, for fear they might establish a presbytery which would rob
the local church of its congregational privileges. His whole life in
America was universally true to the accepted Baptist position relative
to church polity.
At the time of Williams’ baptism, English Baptists were agitated in
regard to the proper administrators of Christian baptism. Many
crossed to the Continent and were baptized by ministers in Holland.
Williams was soon troubled also in regard to the same question. Was
he properly baptized? That was the question which confronted him.
He would not juggle with his conscience. He knew of no Baptist
minister or baptized believer ordained to the ministry in America
when he was baptized. His own baptism was by an unbaptized
person. He made diligent study of the question and could not satisfy
his mind that there was a real succession of proper administrators. In
the awful decline of the church he was convinced that the sacred
succession had been broken. He believed that either that succession
must be in existence, or God must raise up a new “apostolate,” to
commence again the sacred succession. True to principle, he felt he
must withdraw from the church at Providence. In the years which
followed nothing which he said or did ever changed the facts that he
was the first recognized pastor of the first Baptist church that was
organized in America, that he was the first known case in America of
a believer being immersed upon profession of faith into the
fellowship of a local Baptist church, and that he was the organizer of
the first Baptist church in America.
In the years which followed his separation from the church at
Providence, he left no uncertainty as to his Baptist views on every
question save that of the proper administrator of baptism and its
kindred subject of ordination. In all other views he was a loyal Baptist
until his death. In his day, the Baptists were divided into two
recognized divisions, namely, Particular and General Baptists. Dr.
Henry M. King, of Providence, one of the successors of Roger
Williams in the pastorate of the Providence church, describes Roger
Williams as a “High-church Baptist.”
The late Reuben A. Guild, for many years librarian of Brown
University Library, and a thorough student of the original sources of
information, writes thus of Roger Williams in his history of Brown
University:
In regard to the other great doctrines held by the Baptists, liberty of
conscience, or soul-liberty, the entire separation of Church and State,
the supreme headship of Christ in all spiritual matters, regeneration
through the agency of the Holy Spirit, and a hearty belief in the Bible
as God’s divinely inspired and miraculously preserved word and the
all-sufficient rule for faith and practice, he was throughout life a
sincere believer in them all and an earnest advocate of them, as his
letters and published works abundantly show.
In Williams’ book, “Christenings make not Christians,” we have the
most radical Baptist teaching in regard to the errors of infant
sprinkling. He attacked the very foundation of the pedobaptists. He
insisted that only the regeneration of the heart, through the ministry
of the Holy Spirit, could make any person a Christian.
He believed that believers’ immersion is the New Testament baptism.
In a letter to Governor Winthrop, dated December 10, 1649, he
writes:
Mr. John Clarke hath been here lately and hath dipped them. I believe
their practice comes nearer the practice of our great Founder, Jesus
Christ, than any other practices of religion do.
In his debate with Fox, he writes thus, eleven years prior to his
death:
That gallant and heavenly and fundamental principle of the true matter
of a Christian congregation, flock or society, namely, actual believers,
true disciples and converts, such as can give an account of how the
grace of God hath appeared unto them.
We should think of Roger Williams as a man chosen of God to be
champion of a great distinctive Baptist doctrine held by the Baptists
centuries prior to his day and taught by the Baptists after his time
until it was made an essential part of our national Constitution.
Released from pastoral duties, Roger Williams gave himself
completely to the task of establishing and guarding the sacred fires
of soul-liberty which he had kindled in Rhode Island. For this sacred
cause he sacrificed his comfortable home at Salem and devoted the
earnings of a lifetime in trips to England to secure parliamentary
protection for the colony when envious neighbors on all sides were
coveting his purchased possessions. He sacrificed his opportunity to
become wealthy and died a poor man. All honor to John Clarke,
physician and pastor at Newport, for the splendid cooperation which
he gave to Williams. They were comrades, not rivals for fame in
those days. They were happy in life and should not be made
enemies in death. Their names should be linked together as the
pioneers and perfecters of soul-liberty in Rhode Island.
Christenings

make not

CHRISTIANS,
 OR

A Briefe Discourse concerning that

name Heathen, commonly given to
the Indians.

As also concerning that great point of their

CONVERSION.

Published according to Order.

London, Printed by Iane Coe, for I. H. 1645.

The History of the First Baptist Church

The early Providence Baptists met at first in a grove under the trees.
In inclement weather they would meet in private homes. They
adopted no articles of faith, and to this day the First Church of
Providence has been without a formal creed or covenant. For sixty
years the church founded by Roger Williams had no house of
worship. Pardon Tillinghast, its sixth pastor, built them a house of
worship in 1700 and deeded it to the Society in 1711. It stood on the
corner of North Main and Smith Streets. A larger church, forty feet
square, built in 1726, succeeded this first edifice. The present edifice
was built in 1775, and was dedicated “for the worship of Almighty
God and to hold commencements in.” It cost $35,000, a part of
which was raised by a lottery, authorized by the State. The building
was designed by Joseph Brown and James Sumner, who used as a
model Gibb’s church in London, St. Martin-in-the-Fields. It is
recognized as one of the finest examples of colonial architecture in
America.
It has a beautiful interior. The upper gallery at the west end was
originally set apart for slaves and colored people. It was removed to
give place for the pipe-organ in 1832. The same year the old-
fashioned square pews were exchanged for the present ones; the
lofty pulpit and sounding-board were taken down. The beautiful
crystal chandelier, imported from England in 1792 was lighted for the
first time when Hope Brown, daughter of Nicholas Brown, was
married to Thomas Poynton Ives. It was the bride’s gift to the church.
The bell in the tower weighs two thousand five hundred pounds, and
bore originally this inscription:
For freedom of conscience the town was first planted;
Persuasion, not force, was used by the people;
This church is the eldest, and has not recanted,
Enjoying and granting bell, temple, and steeple.

It has been cracked three times and recast in this country. It now
bears the date of the origin of the church, and the name of Roger
Williams, “its first pastor and the first asserter of liberty of
conscience.” The bell is rung at sunrise, at midday, and at nine
o’clock as in the days of old.
First Baptist Church of Providence
 Roger Mowry’s “Ordinarie.” Built 1653,
Demolished 1900

In the vestries are pictures of many of the former leaders of this

historic church. In the hallway, in a glass case, is a piece of the
original “What Cheer Rock,” the landing-place of Williams. At the
entrance to the church a bronze tablet commemorates the fact that
the First Baptist Church of Providence was the first Baptist church
established in America and that Roger Williams was its first pastor.
The present organization, known as the First Baptist Church of
Providence, has every valid reason for claiming to be the true
successor of the original church, organized before 1639, by Roger
Williams. In the Rhode Island Baptist State Annual the date of the
church’s organization is given as 1638. A committee appointed by
the church, when reporting, on March 16, 1899, the reasons for
claiming that the present organization is the true successor of the
first Baptist church organized in America, quoted in defense of this
position the following writers: Arnold, “History of Rhode Island”;
Caldwell, “History of the First Baptist Church”; Guild, “History of
Brown University and Manning”; Prof. Geo. P. Fisher, of Yale, “In
Colonial Era”; Cramp, “Baptist History”; Dexter, “As to Roger
Williams”; Morgan Edwards, “Materials for a History of Baptists in
Rhode Island.” In the following fall this report was also presented to
the Warren Association and was ordered printed in the Minutes of
the Association.
In the “Historical Catalogue” of this church, a book prepared by a
committee consisting of Rev. H. M. King, D. D., Pres. W. H. P.
Faunce, Prof. Wm. C. Poland, and others, a committee familiar with
the original sources of information, we find Roger Williams listed as
the first member in its list of members and as the first pastor in its list
of pastors. The bronze tablet in front of the present meeting-house
and the inscription on the bell both state that Roger Williams was the
first pastor.

Roger Williams’ Ideal, a Distinctive Baptist

Principle
We have already noted the fact that Roger Williams was accused of
Anabaptist tendencies. The Baptists, or Anabaptists, throughout the
ages have stood for the most advanced principles of Protestantism.
They existed long before Luther. Many historians claim for them a
historic continuity from the days of the early Christians. Their
principles—democracy of the local church, sovereignty of the Lord
Jesus Christ, and the authority of the Scriptures—have been
perpetuated by local distinct bodies rather than by the historic
continuity of a general denomination with a common name and a
common governing body.
The Master, in the parable of the Tares, taught the principle
advocated by the Baptists and by Roger Williams. The field is the
world; the good seed, the children of the kingdom; the tares are the
evil-doers. Wheat and tares should be allowed to grow together in
the world (not in the church) until the end of the age, when the
angels, the reapers of God, will gather them together for reward or
punishment. Force must never be used to make disciples for Christ.
In the early Christian centuries, the church longed for liberty to live
for Christ and preach his gospel. Ten great general persecutions
were launched by the Roman emperors to crush the church. The
promise that the gates of hell would not prevail against it was
realized. The Edict of Milan, issued in 313, by Constantine and
Licinius, joint emperors, gave the church an opportunity to grow and
prosper and it was soon in the lead throughout the Roman Empire.
Then the church turned persecutor and put to death those who
differed from the ruling order, which now had lost its democratic
ideals. When the Montanists, the Donatists, the Paulicians, the
Albigenses, and the Waldenses in turn resisted the evil tendencies
and assumptions of a corrupt church, they were persecuted with a
fierceness greater than that formerly waged by the pagans against
the church. The principle of religious liberty was almost lost. It
became the far-off dream of idealists. These dreamers were usually
called Anabaptists. At first they were dissenters from Roman
Catholicism, but afterward they were also dissenters from the
dominant forms of Protestantism.
 Interior of First Baptist Church, Providence

The Protestant Reformation was a case of arrested development. It

was like the exodus from the Egyptian bondage. There was a long
lingering in the wilderness before the day dawned with full religious
liberty. Henry Melville King says:
The absolute supremacy of the word of God, the spiritual nature of the
Christian church, the Christian ordinances for believing souls, the
divorce of Church and State, full, unrestricted religious freedom for
 every man, these essential truths of the gospel of Christ found no
room at the inn of the sixteenth century, and were thrust aside into the
manger ... the inn was not open for it, but the manger was. The
principle of religious liberty did not fail to get born.
The Anabaptists of Europe kept alive the ideals of religious liberty.
They sought to carry out the principles of the Protestant Reformation
to its scriptural and logical conclusion. Many, called by this name,
had little in common with the movement which now bears the Baptist
name. The actions of the fanatics under Münzer have been cited
since Williams’ day as an argument against his principles. Münzer,
who “never submitted to, nor administered rebaptism, who persisted
in baptizing infants, and who sought to set up the kingdom of Christ
by carnal warfare, was not correctly classed.” Cornelius, Roman
Catholic historian of the Münzer uprising, shows that the Anabaptists
repudiated the actions of this fanatic.
The only crime of which they (the Baptists) were accused as a body
by their contemporaries, and which is substantiated by evidence, the
crime for which they were inhumanly persecuted by Catholics and
Protestants alike, and for which they went cheerfully and in large
numbers to death by drowning or the stake, was the crime of
advocating soul-liberty. They claimed the right to interpret the
Scriptures for themselves. They demanded freedom of faith and
worship for all men. They apprehended the sublime doctrine of civil
and religious liberty, and they were the only men who did apprehend
it.
Most of the creeds and confessions of the Reformation gave to the
magistrate a coercive power in religion, and included a curse for the
despised Baptists. Luther, in the early years of his Reformation work,
said:
No one can command or ought to command the soul except God, who
alone can show it the way to heaven. It is futile and impossible to
command, or by force to compel any man’s belief. Heresy is a spiritual
thing, which no iron can hew down, no fire burn, no water drown...
Whenever the temporal power presumes to legislate for the soul, it
encroaches.
Luther, when he was successful, turned his back upon this noble
utterance and compromised with error. He stopped short of full
victory and failed to secure the “full splendor of a complete triumph.”
He wrote differently in after days:
Since it is not good that in one parish the people should be exposed to
contradictory preaching, he (the magistrate) should order to be silent
whatever does not consist with the Scriptures.
Thus the civil ruler was made the final judge of truth and given power
to suppress what he would condemn. This was a case of tyranny
changing hands. Luther wrote to Menius and Myconius in 1530:
I am pleased that you intend to publish a book against the Anabaptists
as soon as possible. Since they are not only blasphemous but also
seditious men, let the sword exercise its rights over them, for it is the
will of God, that he shall have judgment who resisteth the power.
Melanchthon, in a letter to the Diet at Hamburg, in 1537, advised
death by the sword to all who professed Anabaptist views. Zwingli,
the Swiss Reformer, whose statue in Zurich pictures him with a Bible
in his right hand and a sword in his left, also persecuted the Baptists.
On January 5, 1527, Felix Mantz became the first Swiss Anabaptist
martyr by drowning at Zurich. This was a hideous parody of his belief
in believers’ baptism by immersion. Heinrich Bullinger, in his book
against the Anabaptists, specifies thirteen distinct sects among the
Anabaptists. He mentions twenty-five points of agreement among
them, including the following:
That secular authority has no concern with religious belief; that the
Christian resists no evil and therefore needs no law-courts; nor should
ever make use of the tribunals; that Christians do not kill or punish
with imprisonment or the sword, but only with exclusion from the body
of believers; that no man should be compelled by force to believe, nor
should any be slain on account of his faith; that Christians do not
resist, and hence do not go to war; that Christians may not swear; that
all oaths are sinful; that infant baptism is of the pope and devil; that
rebaptism, or better, adult baptism, is the only true Christian baptism.
In 1527, the Swiss Anabaptists issued a confession of faith at
Schaffhausen. Its writer was Michael Sattler, an ex-monk who was
martyred that same year. It was the first confession “in which
Christian men claimed absolute religious freedom for themselves,
and guaranteed absolute religious freedom to others.” This Baptist
movement was the target of Protestant and Catholic persecution
alike and its brave, spiritual men and women were driven to the
martyr’s crown or to exile. Many fled to Holland. The torch of truth,
the advanced ideas which they had received from the Waldensians
and other pre-Reformation movements, were handed over to the
Anabaptists of Holland. These increased in number rapidly under the
toleration afforded them in that country. Menno Simons, a Roman
priest, set to thinking by the martyrdoms about him, espoused their
cause and doctrines. Baptized at the age of forty-four, he fled to
Holland, where he became the leader of a host, which afterward
bore his name, being called Mennonites. Charles V persecuted
these Baptists, and fully fifty thousand were martyred. They were not
exterminated, however, for God, as in other days, preserved a
remnant to pass the torch of religious liberty on to others.
 Bell of First Baptist Church, Providence

Baptist refugees from Holland crossed over to England. Henry VIII,

when he made himself head of the Church, ordered their arrest and
banishment from the kingdom, “on pain to suffer death, if they abide,
and be apprehended and taken.” The fires of Smithfield and the
inquisition of the Protestants could not crush this movement destined
of God, at a later date, to change the world. Considered an
obnoxious sect in the reigns of Edward VI, Mary, and Elizabeth, they
carried on their meetings secretly. They were an industrious class of
skilled mechanics and introduced into England that which afterward
gave that nation its commercial and manufacturing supremacy. The
English passed a law that each foreign workman should take and
train one English apprentice. As a result, fifty thousand English lads
were trained, not only mechanically, but also in the principles of
these Dutch Anabaptists. This spiritual training led to the Puritan
revolution in England and to the greater movement across the seas.
Each of these Dutch Baptist churches was a republic in itself,
independent with its popularly elected officers, deacons, and elders.
They held, as a cardinal doctrine, the separation of Church and
State. From the sections in which these Dutch Anabaptists lived
came fully fifty per cent of the early colonists to the New World.
Fourteen English towns, in which they formed a large proportion of
the population, are duplicated by New England towns of the same
name. From the same district Cromwell recruited his invincible
Ironsides. Back of all that was good and noble in the settlements at
Plymouth and Boston and in Connecticut was the leaven of the
Dutch Baptists in that part of England from which these early
colonists came.
Robert Browne, who is the reputed founder of English
Congregationalism, advocated his peculiar views after dwelling for
some time in a Dutch Anabaptist community. Here he promulgated
his ideas. A part of his congregation fled to Middleburg, a Baptist
stronghold. After two years he quarreled with these folks and
returned to England, where he became reconciled to the Established
Church and for forty years afterward administered to an Established
Church parish. The Baptist principle, however, had been stamped
upon the few years of his ministry when he started a new order.
At the close of the sixteenth century most of the Anabaptists in
England were Dutch. Slowly, however, English Baptists were coming
into existence, and they soon formed themselves into small groups.
Browne did not go so far as the Baptists, but in church government
he took their New Testament position. As far as is known, the first
definite English Baptist church was organized in London in 1611,
with Thomas Helwys as pastor. The members had been exiles in
Holland and were baptized there by Rev. John Smith, the famous
Se-Baptist, formerly a Church of England clergyman.
This English Baptist church formulated a confession which contains
the first declaration of faith to include, as the teaching of Christ, the
absolute separation of Church and State.
The magistrate by virtue of his office, is not to meddle with religion or
matters of conscience, nor to compel men to this or that form of
religion or doctrine; but to leave the Christian religion free to every
man’s conscience.
Prof. Mason says:
It was, in short, from their little dingy meeting-house, somewhere in
old London, that there flashed out, first in England, the absolute
doctrine of religious liberty.
These of whom mention has just been made, were called General
Baptists.
In 1644, the Particular Baptists issued a confession, equally explicit
and clear. Religious liberty to them was the right, and good
citizenship the duty, of every Christian man. Their historic
confession, a confession of seven associated churches, was the first
declaration, in England or in Christendom, by a body of associated
churches on the question of absolute religious liberty. Many of these
Baptists were imprisoned.
Many denominations which today favor religious liberty, were
opposed to it in those days of Baptist persecution. For example, the
Presbyterian ministers of Lancashire declared, “A toleration would be
putting a sword in a madman’s hands, a cup of poison into the hand
of a child, a letting loose of madmen with firebrands in their hands,
etc.” The Presbyterians, then, would gladly have been a national
church. The Puritans of the Bay Colony had no higher thought than a
theocracy for themselves. To insure uniformity of worship in their
colony they resorted to whippings, banishments, fines, and
hangings. The Pilgrim Fathers were farther advanced, but historians
fail to find that they had a higher ideal than to secure a freedom to
worship God for themselves. They certainly never dreamed of
extending an equal freedom to all who differed from them in religious