ESCAPE AND FLIGHT.
Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here:
Here is the smile that no cloud can o'ercast,
And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.
--Moore.
When Charles Stevens regained consciousness, he was lying on a bed, and
kindly faces were bending over him. He was conscious from the first of
an oppressive weight of trouble, but could not realize what had
occurred. As one awakening from a troubled dream, he strove to gather up
his scattered faculties and recall what had happened. Like a blast of
doom, the awful truth burst upon him, and he leaped to his feet. He was
at the home of Landlord Nurse, and the pale, sad, horror-stricken faces
about him were the old gentleman and his sons and daughters. They caught
Charles before he reached the door.
"My mother!" cried the young man.
"No; you can do her no good by an act of rashness!" John Nurse
answered.
"Tell me all about it. I will sit here and listen to it all," said
Charles, when he discovered that he could not break away from his
friends.
"Your mother and Cora Waters have both been cried out upon as witches,
warrants were issued, and they were arrested. Now collect your faculties
and act on your coolest judgment. Think what you will do."
Charles Stevens bowed his head in his hands and reflected long and
earnestly on the course to pursue. He recalled the words of Oracus, the
brave young chief, who could muster a hundred warriors. He was cunning
and might devise some plan of escape, and Charles was not long in
resolving what to do. He would not act hurriedly. He would be desperate;
but that desperation would have coolness and premeditation about it.
He promised his friends to be calm, assuring them he would be guarded in
his speech, and then begun seeking an interview with his mother and
Cora. It was three days before the interview was granted. He found them
occupying loathsome cells, each chained to the wall. The interview was
long, and just what such an interview could be, full of grief and
despair. Charles tried to hope. He tried to see a ray of sunlight; but
the effort only revealed the swaying forms of those hung on Witches'
Hill.
Even if he summoned Oracus and all his braves, would they be strong
enough to break down that door of iron, or cut the chains asunder!
Charles, in his desperation, resolved to rescue the beloved ones or die
in the effort. He went away weeping.
He did not return home. That home was desolate, lonely and so like the
tomb, that he dared not go near it. At the home of his kind friend, he
wrote to relatives at New Plymouth, Boston, New York, Virginia and the
Carolinias. To all he appealed for help, for Charles was determined to
move heaven and earth or rescue his mother and Cora; but he did not
depend on those distant relatives and friends so much as the dusky
friends in the forest. He knew that before answers could come to his
letters, he would be dead, or would have succeeded in his efforts. Even
if he should be killed in an abortive attempt, however, he hoped that
his relatives would resume the warfare for the prisoners.
"Where is Cora's father?" he asked himself. "Could I but find the Waters
brothers, I would have two friends and allies to aid me. Oh, Heaven,
give me light! Give me light!"
Charles Stevens, like all true Christians, in this dark hour went to God
for aid. Kneeling, he prayed as he had never prayed before. He seemed to
take hold of the throne of grace and, with a faith strengthened and
renewed, drew inspiration for his desperate resolve from the only living
fountain. Armed with his rifle and pistols, he left the village and went
into the forest. The forest inspires man with reverence and love for
God. The giant trees, the deep glens, the moss and ferns and cool shades
seem to breathe of eternity. Charles Stevens had always loved the dark
old woods, and never had they seemed so friendly as on this occasion,
when they screened him from the frowns of man.
Solitude offered him its charms. The zephyrs sought to soothe his
sorrows by their gentle whispers, and the birds sang for the peace of
his troubled spirit, while the babbling brooks strove to make him gay;
but who can be gay when loved ones are menaced with a terrible danger?
Charles Stevens saw little of the beauty of nature. His eyes were
searching the forests for dusky forms, which he hoped to meet. Those
dusky sons of the forest were not often desirable sights; but Charles
was as anxious to see the feathers and painted faces of these heathens,
as if they were brothers.
He spent the day in wandering through the woods, forgetting to take any
nourishment, for he had brought no food with him, and, in fact, he had
not thought to eat since the arrest of his mother and Cora.
He was weak and faint, and his hands trembled. He was not hungry; but
his strength was giving way, and he realized that he had been foolish
not to provide himself with food.
Evening came, and he sank down on the mossy banks of a stream and took a
few draughts of water to revive him. The stars came out one by one.
By the merest chance, he raised his despairing eyes and, gazing across
the stream to the woods beyond, saw a light. Charles struggled to his
feet and gazed like one to whom life has suddenly been restored.
"Perhaps it is Indians!"
He plunged into the creek, waded across and started through the woods
toward the light. It was much further away than he had at first
supposed, and he was several minutes in reaching the camp fire.
Ten dusky sons of the forest were seated about the camp fire, while two
men in the garb of civilization were roving about. Charles felt some
misgivings at first on discovering men of his own color in the camp. He
crawled from tree to tree, from log to bush, until he was near enough to
see the features of the men. When he first got within sight they stood
with their backs toward him and he could not see their faces; but at
last one turned about so that the glare of the fire-light fell full on
his face, and, with a cry of joy, Charles Stevens bounded to his feet,
crying:
"Mr. Waters! Mr. Waters!" and dashed toward the camp.
A pair of strong arms encircled his waist, and the young man heard a
voice say:
"White man go too soon!"
He had been seized by a sentry; but Mr. Waters and Oracus hastened to
him, and he was released. The other white man was the brother of Mr.
Waters, and Charles, bewildered, overjoyed, yet faint and weak, was half
led and half carried to the camp. He found himself making hurried
explanations, while a savage was broiling venison steaks before the fire
for him.
"We know all," said Mr. George Waters.
"What! do you know they have been cried out upon?" asked Charles.
"We do."
"Do you know they are in prison?"
"We have heard it all," said Mr. Waters, calmly.
"How could you have heard it?" asked Charles.
"We have faithful friends, who inform us of everything."
"Were you going to take action for their rescue?" asked Charles.
"We were concerting plans when you came; but you must have food."
Charles Stevens gazed on the calm face of the man before him, and could
but wonder at his coolness.
"Mr. Waters, do you know that your own daughter is one of the accused?"
"I know all."
"How can you be so calm, knowing all as you do?"
"I am calm for my daughter's sake. The only hope of liberating her, of
saving her life, is by cool, deliberate and well matured plans."
"Are your plans formed?"
"Yes."
"When will you act?"
"On to-morrow night. Oracus will have all his warriors ready by that
time, and we will require crow-bars, hammers and axes, to break in the
door of the jail. Meanwhile, if you expect to aid us, you will have to
take some refreshments, food and drink, and get some sleep. You don't
look as if you had slept for weeks."
"I scarcely have."
"Your conduct is foolish. If you love your mother, you should give the
full strength of body and mind to her rescue."
Charles ate some broiled venison and went to sleep.
So exhausted was he, that he did not awake until the noise of breaking
camp aroused him.
Another white man was in camp. His hands were fastened behind his back
and he was tied to a tree. His sallow complexion and angular features
were familiar to Charles Stevens. The prisoner was Joel Martin.
"Two of the Indians captured him last night," explained George Waters.
"He was prowling about in the woods, and they seized him."
"What are you going to do with him?" Charles asked.
"We will do him no hurt unless we are forced to," said Mr. Waters.
"I trust you will not be forced," said Charles Stevens.
"So I pray; yet we must protect ourselves and those whom we would
rescue."
"I see that many more Indians are in camp than were here yesterday."
"Yes."
"Are they friends?"
"They are the braves of Oracus, and will follow where he leads."
Charles Stevens passed an anxious day. A part of the time he was near
enough to Joel Martin to hear him muttering:
"I have no fear of George Waters, galley slave. You may turn me over to
your heathen cut-throats; yet I will defy you. If I live, I will yet
drag you to justice for the murder of my brother."
"Mr. Martin, you have forgotten that the word of God says, 'Vengeance is
mine and I will repay, saith the Lord,'" put in Charles.
"I will be the instrument of vengeance."
"You are in the power of Mr. Waters."
"For the present I am."
"Don't you think you should be careful how you threaten him, seeing he
has you at his mercy."
Charles could not intimidate the bold Virginian. He was furious, and no
threat of punishment could move him.
During the day, a dozen more Indians came in. The red men now numbered
eighty, and by the afternoon the entire party was moving toward Salem.
At dusk they were but five miles from the village. Here a halt was
called, and, after a short consultation, Oracus detailed five of his
braves to guard Mr. Martin, and with the others moved on over the hills
and through the woods toward Salem.
"What will they do with him?" Charles asked.
"Release him when we leave the village."
"Mr. Waters, would you not be justified in killing him?"
"No."
"Why not? He will murder you if he can."
"No one is justified in slaying a prisoner, and I shall never do it. No
more blood will be on my hands, unless it be in defence of her. For her,
I slew the other, and only for her will my arm ever be raised against my
fellow man."
"Not even in self defence?"
"No, as God is my judge, my hand shall never be raised even to defend
this miserable life. I live but for my child, and when she is gone, I
care not how soon I am called. I have known only sorrow since----"
He did not finish the sentence, but turned away.
It was late in the night when the party entered Salem. The houses were
dark and silent. No light was visible from any window, and it seemed a
deserted hamlet. Earnestness without excitement was evinced. Everything
was done in perfect order. The men moved first to the blacksmith shop,
where several supplied themselves with axes, heavy crow-bars and
sledges.
"Explain to your warriors that, under no circumstances, are they to shed
blood," said Mr. George Waters.
While Oracus was giving this order to his braves, Mr. Waters, by the aid
of a lighted pine knot, found a pair of cold chisels, which he
appropriated.
Then the party moved off toward the jail in perfect order. There was no
undue haste, or nervous excitement. All seemed as cool as if they were
going as invited guests to a banquet.
The Indians' moccasined feet made scarcely any noise upon the ground, as
they moved forward. Mr. Henry Waters carried in his hand a stout iron
bar, and twenty Indians bore on their shoulders a heavy log of wood.
At a word of command from Oracus the others deployed as flankers and
guards. They had strict orders to harm no one; but, should they find any
attempting to approach them, they were to seize and hold such persons.
The jail was reached. The long, low wall of stone, with gates of iron,
loomed up like some sullen monster before the determined men. Mr. Henry
Waters thrust the heavy iron bar he carried under the iron gate, and
tore it off its hinges.
Then George Waters and Charles raised their sledges, while the savages
with the heavy log of wood ran it like a monster battering-ram against
the door. At the same instant they struck it with their sledges.
The crash was deafening, and the jail trembled to its very centre.
Again, and again, and again did those crashing thunder-bolts fall upon
the iron door. The unfortunate inmates, not knowing the object of this
terrible attack, set up a howl which was heard above the thunder
crashes. The door, stout as it was, could not long withstand that
assault. It gave way with a crash, and fell into the hall way.
The terrified jailer tumbled out of his bed, only to find himself seized
and held by a pair of painted sons of the forest. Others who attempted
to interfere were seized and held in grasps of iron.
[Illustration: The jail trembled to its very centre.]
No sooner was the door of the jail burst off its hinges, than George
Waters and Charles Stevens, each with a chisel and hammer, rushed in to
cut the chains of the prisoners.
"Mother! mother! where are you?" cried Charles.
He had to call several times before the frightened woman could answer.
Then from out the darkness there came a feeble response. He groped his
way along in the darkness. He found a cell door, tore it open and
reached her side.
At this moment some one lighted a torch within the jail. A scene, wild,
weird and terrible burst upon their view. The prisoners were almost
driven to madness by the sudden appearance of the savage and civilized
liberators.
Charles Stevens, with chisel and hammer, quickly cut the chains of his
mother and hastened to liberate Cora. Her father held the light, while
he cut the iron band.
"Free! free!" cried the excited Charles. "Let us away before the town is
roused!"
"No," answered Mr. George Waters; "not while a prisoner remains to
suffer the wrath of prejudice."
Then with chisel and hammer he went from one to another and cut the iron
bands which bound them.
Oracus and Henry Waters joined him in the work of liberation, until all
were freed.
This required several moments of time, and the confusion and uproar
which they were compelled to make was rousing the town.
Mr. Parris, half-dressed, ran barefoot through the town, waving his long
arms in the air, and shouting that the fiends of the air had conspired
to liberate the prisoners. His words and his wild, fanatical manner
tended rather to increase the fear of the people of Salem, than diminish
it. Then there went out the report through the village that the Indians
had attacked the town, and the people, roused from their midnight
slumbers, magnified the numbers of the assailants ten to one.
"Cora! Mother!" whispered Charles, "this way!"
He took a hand of each and started to run from the jail down the street.
Others followed.
"Fly! all of you! Fly for your lives!" cried Henry Waters, who, now that
his work was done, flung aside his iron bar and sledge.
At a word of command from Oracus his warriors formed a hollow square
about the escaping fugitives, and moved off as rapidly as they could.
Everybody was bewildered. Everybody running into the street was asking:
"What has happened? What has gone amiss?"
"They are rescuing the prisoners," shouted Mr. Parris, wildly. "Don't
you see them hurrying away with them."
He ran to the sheriff and cried:
"Bestir yourself! Do you not see they are taking your prisoners away?"
"I have no deputies," answered the sheriff. "They number hundreds, and
the Indians are with them."
"Nonsense! They are only disguised, and are not a dozen. Come! I will go
with you."
Four or five by-standers, being thus emboldened, offered to go
themselves and aid in recovering the prisoners.
"Come! I will lead you!" cried the eager preacher, allowing his zeal to
overcome his discretion.
They ran after the escaping party, and Mr. Parris, either being more
zealous than the others, or more swift of foot, outran them and, eluding
some of the Indians, who tried to intercept him, ran to where Charles
Stevens was half leading and half dragging his mother and Cora from the
village.
"Fire-brand of hades! you shall not escape me," cried Mr. Parris seizing
Cora's shoulder with a clutch so fierce as to make her cry out.
Charles released both his mother and Cora, and, seizing Mr. Parris by
the throat, hurled him to the ground, and raised a hammer to brain him;
but at this moment a strong hand seized his arm, and the calm, kind
voice of Mr. Waters said:
"Stay your hand, Charles. Do the man no harm."
Next moment, a pair of dusky hands seized Mr. Parris, and he was hurried
away to the rear. Mr. Henry Waters caused a couple of guns to be fired
in the air in order to intimidate their pursuers. This had the desired
effect, and the mention of Indians was sufficient to drive all to the
defense of their homes.
The fugitives reached the forest before the sheriff and Mr. Parris could
get an armed party in pursuit.
They followed them to the brook, and fired a volley at them, but in
vain. The number of accused who escaped on that night, has been
estimated at from twenty to one hundred.