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[Illustration:
“I DREW MY SWORD, AND WITH THE HILT GAVE SEVERAL BLOWS ON THE DOOR.”
]
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WITH FORCE AND ARMS
A TALE OF LOVE AND
SALEM WITCHCRAFT.
BY
HOWARD R. GARIS.
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NEW YORK:
J.S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
57 ROSE STREET,
11 Paternoster Building, London.
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Copyright, 1908, by J.S. Ogilvie Publishing Company.
All Rights Reserved.
Copyrighted in Great Britain.
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PREFACE.
The showman, crying his attractions, lifted up his voice at the flap of
his tent. So, at this, the entrance to that which is within, those who
stop to read may gain a hint of what is beyond. Only a little, though,
to whet your appetite and make you wish for more, it is to be hoped.
So, then, this is a tale of love, of witchcraft, and of fighting. A tale
of a brave man, and as brave a maid. Herein may be found the doings of
witch-finders, Puritans and Indians. Also there is set down the struggle
of two men for the love of a woman, and it may be learned who won. You
may read of the lifting of the great rock, of the killing of the
serpent, of the battle at the fort, of the trial of death, and the
bursting of the mighty press. This much and more, until the tale is at
an end.
The author hopes you, reader, and the many of you who make up the
public, will like the story. He has tried to make it interesting. If it
serves to help you pass a pleasant hour or two, the writer will have
accomplished his purpose.
So, then, having had patience thus far, you may enter, and read.
H. R. G.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
The Governor’s Commission 9
CHAPTER II.
Of the Scarlet Snow 20
CHAPTER III.
The Trial 32
CHAPTER IV.
How I Cast the Knife 41
CHAPTER V.
Of the Stone by the Brook 51
CHAPTER VI.
Lucille 63
CHAPTER VII.
Of the Horseman on the Beach 72
CHAPTER VIII.
The Battle at the Fort 82
CHAPTER IX.
How the French Took Pemaquid 96
CHAPTER X.
The Man at the Inn 111
CHAPTER XI.
A Man and His Wife 123
CHAPTER XII.
The Time of Peril 130
CHAPTER XIII.
In Salem Gaol 140
CHAPTER XIV.
A Sentence of Death 150
CHAPTER XV.
Peine Forte et Dure 161
CHAPTER XVI.
How We Broke Gaol 172
CHAPTER XVII.
The News Nanette Brought Me 183
CHAPTER XVIII.
How the Eagle Sailed 192
CHAPTER XIX.
How I Found Lucille 204
CHAPTER XX.
A Watch in the Night 216
CHAPTER XXI.
Of the Voyage of Lucille 227
CHAPTER XXII.
A Duel on the Sands 240
CHAPTER XXIII.
Shadows in the Night 256
CHAPTER XXIV.
How Simon Kept His Oath 267
CHAPTER XXV.
In the Name of the King 282
CHAPTER XXVI.
The Last Fight 294
CHAPTER XXVII.
Simon 306
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The End of Captain Amherst 316
CHAPTER XXIX.
An Order from the King 328
CHAPTER XXX.
Love, Honor and Obey 338
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WITH FORCE AND ARMS.
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CHAPTER I.
THE GOVERNOR’S COMMISSION.
As I left the presence of His Excellency I encountered, in the doorway,
a man who was entering with every appearance of haste. We came against
each other full tilt. For the moment the shock threw us apart.
“Zounds! But you are a clumsy fellow!” he exclaimed, limping toward me,
the expression of pain on his face showing that I must have hurt him.
“Could you not look whither you were going? You stepped on my foot like
a very horse,” and the words came testily.
He scowled as he prepared to pass by me.
My hand was on my sword, for he was most insulting.
“Sir!” I exclaimed, “for the pain I have caused you I am regretful. As
for ‘clumsy fellows,’ look to yourself, sir!”
My weapon was out on the instant. He was not a second behind me. The
steel blades crossed with a clash.
“What is this, sirs?” cried Sir William Phips, Massachusetts’s Governor,
whose room I had just left. He hastened toward us.
“What mean you two, with your swords out in the Council Chamber, like a
pair of swashbucklers over a card game? Put them up at once, you Captain
Amherst; and you, also, Sir George. You are both at fault. This must go
no further; do you hear? If it does, you may reckon with me on the
quarter deck.”
My opponent and I were startled. Somewhat abashed, he whom the Governor
called Sir George, sheathed his weapon, I following his action.
I looked at the man. He was tall and well built. His clothing was of
good quality, with fine lace and ruffles; his sword a trusty blade, set
in a hilt, studded with red stones. On his face there was a haughty
look, yet withal, a trace of sadness. He gazed sharply at me, seeming
about to put a question, but the Governor was beckoning him, and he
passed me without a word, scowling darkly, into the chamber of His
Excellency. Then I went out.
There came a time, afterward, when I wished with all my heart, that our
swords had come into use, that day; a time when I would have given much
to have seen him dead before me. But there was another way.
I felt within my jacket to see if my papers were safe, for on them, now,
depended my good fortune. I had come to Boston town without friends, and
almost on a forlorn hope, for England was no longer a safe place for me,
with a relentless enemy following close on my heels at every step. My
mission had succeeded better than I had dared to hope, and I was leaving
now, carrying with me a captain’s commission, duly signed and sealed by
His Excellency. I also had a letter of introduction to one, Samuel
Willis, a tavern keeper at Salem.
Of the things which had come to pass before I found myself in Boston
town, in the year of grace 1692, I will relate none for the present. At
any rate here I was, Captain Edward Amherst, in age not yet a score and
a half, in stature say a bit over six feet; in weight--but there, you
will doubtless have more than enough of me ere I have finished.
Sufficient to say that I was a soldier by trade, and one of fortune, by
necessity, and that I sought service in their Majesties’ American
Colonies. I had left London eight weeks ago, bearing letters to Governor
Phips, from old comrades in arms, some of whom had sailed the seas with
him. Arriving in Boston I had put up at the inn, and had sought an
audience with His Excellency, which interview was just over, with the
ending I have described.
When I was ushered into the presence of Sir William I explained in few
words why I came, and what I wanted. He extended his hand for my
letters, and, when he had them, he gave me no more heed for a time, but
read the missives. I watched his face as he scanned the pages, the while
he kept up a running fire of comments.
“Ha! Tyler Anderson,” he said, “I know him well. He has a steady hand,
and can use a cutlass famously. Sir Arthur Kent, too; a sly rascal with
the women. Bob Frenchard; he never could get enough of fighting. John
Powell; little Nat Edwards, also. Why, man, you might have all Boston as
far as I am concerned, with these letters. You are very welcome,
Captain. Now what can I do for you?”
“Much,” I answered, surprised and pleased at his welcome; and then I
told him what I desired; a soldier’s chance to mend his fortunes.
“How would a Captain’s commission, on this side of the water, suit you?”
he asked, when I had finished. “You tell me that was your rank before.”
“I would desire nothing better,” I said warmly.
“It is yours, then,” was the reply, and he drew out a parchment,
partially covered with writing.
“You probably have heard of the activity of the French and Indian enemy
on our borders,” said the Governor, while he prepared a quill. “We are
about to proceed against them. You have come at a time when certain
currents are like to drift you just where you want to go; into the thick
of the fight.” Then he opened his ink horn.
I listened for a while to the scratching of his quill. It was some time
before he had finished, and, looking up he handed a folded parchment
across the table to me.
“There is your commission, Captain,” he said, rising. “As for your
instructions, they are, in brief, these. You are to ride to Salem town,
and enlist a company of one hundred men. Drill them well, against the
time when we shall unite, and smite the French Philistine and his Indian
allies, with fire and with sword. We will rake them fore and aft. An
expedition against Canada is timed for this season next year. I hope it
will be more successful than the one I led two years ago, for indeed
that was a grievous failure, though, of a truth, it was against heavy
odds.”
I had heard of the manner in which Frontenac had scattered Phips and the
English fleet sent against him, but I held my peace; for failure is no
happy subject with any man. Sir William told me in few words that
Admiral Sir Francis Wheeler was expected to arrive in March, with his
fleet from the Caribbee Islands. Governor Phips had undertaken to raise
small companies of men throughout the Colony, to act with the Admiral on
his arrival. This much he told me, then, bidding me a pleasant farewell,
and wishing me success, he took up his quill again, to indicate that the
audience was at an end.
My encounter with the man in the doorway passed from my mind, as I
descended the steps of the Town Hall, and trudged along the street, to
where I had stabled my mare Kit. With busy thoughts of what might be
before me I led Kit out of the door, leaped into the saddle, and was off
at a round trot, in the direction a lad pointed out as leading to Salem.
Of a truth, I was away now to seek my fortune in this new land, and, I
hoped, with the promise of as many adventures as ever befell a knight of
old. So, over hill and across dale I rode, soon leaving behind the
pleasant town and the outlying farm lands. I had not gone many miles ere
the snow, which had been threatening since morning, began to fall from
the dull, leaden sky, piling up on the white covering of previous
storms. The flakes sifted down, lazily at first, but soon began to
gather more thickly as the wind rose, so I urged the mare on by spur and
voice, determined to reach Salem by night, if I could. Now the snow came
down ever quicker and faster. It swirled and swished, and blew in
drifts, until I was fain to stop, look about me and see where I was. I
pulled the mare up as I reached the top of a little hill, and peered
through the clouds of cutting flakes for some sight of the road, which,
it was evident, I had lost some time ago. Kit would have turned tail to
the wind, but I pressed my knees against her sides, and held her to the
blast. There was little hope in going back, perhaps less in proceeding.
But I decided to continue in the hope of coming to some shelter, and I
patted the mare on the neck to set her going again. She lurched forward
into a drift so deep that it well nigh covered my knees as I sat in the
saddle, and my boots were filled with snow through their wide, gaping
tops.
“Steady, girl!” I shouted, for, indeed, less voice could scarce have
been heard. We were fairly lost now, and for the last hour had been
wandering back and forth across country, I knew not how far from the
road. I did not see a single landmark in the stretch of whiteness, my
only hope having been that I might keep the right way. Kit began to
back, seeking to rid herself of the cutting wind, and I had hard work to
force her to stand. Should I turn to the left, to the right, or keep
straight on? The wind seemed to blow less fiercely from the south, so I
swung Kit about in that direction, pulled her to the left, and urged her
on.
She responded nobly, and reared, rather than stepped out of the snow
bank. Her fore feet struck solid ground, and then, feeling the hard road
beneath her hoofs, she pulled herself forward. We had struck the right
path at last, and, after hours of fierce weather-beating, like a ship at
sea, lost in a storm, we were fairly homeward bound, on the way to Salem
town.
I rode on more quickly now, settling my hat firmer on my head, and
pressing the leather lining against my benumbed ears. My collar scarce
kept the snow and wind from my neck, and every half mile or so I was
obliged to drop the reins and, after feeling that my sword had not
dropped off in some snow drift, knock my hands together to bring their
fingers some little warmth.
Verily, I thought that the road would never lead me to the friendly
tavern of Master Samuel Willis, who, as I had heard in Boston, provided
refreshment for man and beast. And surely no two stood more in need of
it than Kit and myself that cold February day.
A fiercer squall and gust of wind than any that had proceeded, fairly
brought the mare to a stand. I lifted my hat a bit, held my interlocked
fingers before my eyes, and peered ahead. Dimly, like a speck of black
on a white sheet, that a dame might spread on the grass to bleach, I saw
in front a house.
“May that be the tavern,” I quoth, and, with a heart that smote me a
trifle, for she had traveled far and well that day, I dug the spurs into
Kit’s flanks. She leaped through the drifts, and, at length, when she
could make no more progress, I found myself before the snow-heaped steps
of Salem Inn.
The wind, shunted off by a corner of the building, beat less fiercely at
this point, and the roar was somewhat subdued. I drew my sword, for I
could not reach the door knocker from where I sat on Kit’s back, and
with the hilt gave several blows on the oak.
“Who’s without?” came a woman’s voice from within.
“A friend; Captain Edward Amherst,” I cried. “Open in the King’s name,
if for no other reason.”
Now ere I had ceased speaking the heavy door swung inward, revealing
such a warmth and such a snug, homelike appearance, and, withal, letting
out such savory odors, that poor Kit whinnied in anticipation of what
might be her share of the feed. As for myself, I threw one leg over the
saddle, leaped to the ground, strode to the door, and went inside. I
shouted to a stout serving man, snugly ensconced in the chimney corner,
to look after the mare, and then I approached the blazing fire.
“The Lord defend us! Goliath and the Philistines are upon us!” cried out
Mistress Willis, for she it was who had opened the door.
I turned toward her. Now, of a truth, I am not overly large. But, with a
stout leather jacket on, my sword by my side, and heavy boots on my
legs, I did look big to the good dame’s eyes. Yet I stood not so much
over six feet, when in my woolen hose, and, in girth, full many a
comrade, of times past, whose body rests beneath the bogs of Sedgemoor,
in Somersetshire, was larger. Yet, in all modesty do I say it, there
were none who were of greater strength in shoulders or arms, and that,
with a wiry and supple wrist, stood me in good stead at sword play.
“Neither Goliath nor a Philistine am I,” was my answer, while I let the
genial warmth get nearer to my bones as I cast hat and jacket into a
corner, “but an Essex man by birth and breed. But, mark you, Mistress,”
I went on, “if I do not get a mug of ale, and a bit of roast beef soon,
I will be nothing at all, for I lost my road early this morn, and no
bite nor sup has passed my lips since. Thus I am half starved. So bustle
about----”
“Aye, ‘bustle about’ it is,” answered she, repeating my words, though in
no great anger. “Bustle about is all I’ve done since sunrise. What with
Willis away all day, attending on Dr. Clarke; with the snow, and only
one serving man, I have scarce time to----”
“Peace,” said I, for I never loved a woman’s tongue when it ran in that
strain, “peace, and bring the ale and beef. You may talk afterward if
you like. I can listen better then.”
Mistress Willis looked at me a minute, as if she would reply, but she
came to another conclusion, ceased her clatter, and bustled about to
such good advantage that she soon had on the table a plate of smoking
hot beef, and some cakes of yellow corn meal, with pats of golden
butter. There was also a stone mug of good ale. I gulped down a big
drink of it, and, when the flavor of it had mellowed me, and the warmth
gone clear down to my toes, I did drink again, this time to the health
of Mistress Willis. For, though I like not a woman’s tongue when they
talk over much, I know the value of being in their good graces. And so I
ate and drank, and ate again, until I felt the cold leave me, and the
memory of the biting wind and driving snow of an hour before was
forgotten. I leaned back in my chair, and looked all about me, while the
fire in the big chimney place flickered and spluttered; the hickory logs
smelling like sweet nuts, and cracking with the heat, as a teamster
snaps his whip on a frosty morning.
I let my eyes take in the room, with the oak beams overhead, blackened
by smoke, the heavy tables and chairs, and the clean sanded floor. It
was getting on toward night now, and the wind had died out. I was alone
in the room, but I could hear Mistress Willis walking about in the
apartment overhead, and giving some orders to the servant. I rose from
my chair somewhat wearied, wishing that the inn keeper would return, so
that I might meet him, and seek my bed. I walked to the window, noting
that the moon had risen, and that the snow had ceased. As I looked
through the casement I started, and doubted whether my eyes beheld
aright, for I saw a sight of more than passing strangeness, and one
that, for a time, struck terror to my heart.
The snow, which had been as white as a fleecy cloud, was now as red as
blood beneath the silver moon!
At the same time I saw, coming toward the inn, at top speed, three men
who ran on, never once halting to glance behind them.