CHAPTER XXV. IN THE NAME OF THE KING.

Captain Carteret and I clasped hands when we saw that the enemy had been repelled for the time. They hardly would renew the fight for a few hours, I thought, and we would have a chance to rest and get something to eat, for it was now afternoon, and we all knew that breakfast had been a long way back. So leaving a sentinel on guard at each face of the palisade, we sent the other men away. Carteret and I went to his quarters.

As the door opened I saw Simon standing in the centre of the room.

“Have you been here since the fighting began?” asked the Captain of him.

“I have,” answered Simon. “My life was not my own to lose it by a stray bullet. When my oath is fulfilled I will fight.”

“There was need of every man,” replied Carteret sternly, “oaths or no oaths. I like not cowards, even though they come with warrants from the King.”

Simon made no response.

“Now, as concerns this matter,” continued the commander, “which we had to break off when the battle began. 283Sir George Keith, and a braver man there never lived, was my boyhood friend, Amherst, and I am much grieved to learn that he is no more. I would have served him living, and, if I can I will do so dead. It seems, Amherst, you are interested in the affair, the nature of which is not clear to me. Let us see what is in the royal warrant,” and he drew the parchment from his pocket.

“What is it about, Simon, for I am no hand at the law.”

Thereupon Simon related the tale, as he had it from his master, I suppose, of how I had fought on the side of Duke Monmouth, and had been adjudged a traitor, but had escaped ere I could be sold to slavery. As Simon progressed I saw the Captain’s face grow grave and stern, for, it seemed, he was a great friend at court, and all his people had been against Monmouth. Therefore he had little liking for a rebel like myself, and one who was accused of treason.

“What have you to say?” asked Carteret, when Simon had finished.

“Much,” I replied, and I began to think.

Truly I seemed to be in sore straits. If there was but some way out of it with honor, most gladly would I have welcomed it. For I could not let myself be taken now, and separated from Lucille, just when I had found her again. If I was sent back to England under arrest as a traitor (though I never admitted I was one, for I had no mind to betray my own country) I might count on a long imprisonment, if not death, and I would never see my 284love more. Then I hoped that a plan of escape might come to me, and so, after all, foil Simon.

“The matter need not be decided now,” I said as though I had my case all prepared, but only waited convenience to try it. “There is no occasion for haste, as I promise I will not run out among the red devils howling for our scalps. Let it rest.”

“Suppose you are killed?” suggested Simon. “What then becomes of the warrant?”

“Why, you may keep it, Simon,” I said. “There is no law that will reach the dead.”

“But I am under oath to a dead man to see the warrant properly served on a live man,” expostulated the sailor, “and you are the person mentioned.”

“’Tis a serious matter,” spoke up the Captain, “and one, the like of which I never knew before. To be strictly within the law I must arrest you, though you need not hand over your sword, nor suffer imprisonment. For we need your counsel and stout arm in the defense of the block. The Indians have only tasted blood, and want more. Our stubborn defense has roused them to a pitch of fury, and they will soon be swarming about our ears again.”

“Then I am to consider myself a prisoner,” I said, as calmly as I could; for I did not like Captain Carteret’s easy compliance with Simon’s demands.

“A prisoner, if you please,” replied the Captain. “The other details may wait until the more pressing matter of 285the Indian attack is settled. After that we may have no need of captors or prisoners, either.”

“’Tis very likely,” I said grimly, “seeing that we have but seventy fighting men left to stand against more than seven hundred.”

But I was not as easy as I pretended about the matter of the royal warrant. I knew it would not dared be ignored by Carteret, and Simon would see to it that the Captain did not fail to execute it.

“Yes, it is necessary that you be considered under arrest,” went on the commander, “though never did a jailer serve a warrant with less liking for the task. For, mark you, Amherst, I had a liking for you as soon as you and the sweet maid came in, and the affection has grown when I see how well you can fight,” and all the while he was turning the document over and over in his hand, as if he had hold of an unpleasant object. He looked on both sides of the parchment, but made no move to open it and learn the contents. Simon was watching both of us with a pleased light in his eyes.

“Since then you are under arrest,” proceeded the Captain, “I believe it is in accord with the law that I read the warrant to you. I am not very well versed in legal lore, but, mayhap, I can make some small shift at this.”

Thereupon Carteret, assuming a dignified air, that was in strange keeping with his powder-grimed face, and his 286battle-torn clothing, opened the warrant. He read over the first few lines to himself, and then burst out with:

“Providence preserve us! But this is more than passing wonderful and strange! Can it be that I read aright?”

And while Simon watched him eagerly, and I with fear at what was to come, the Captain read what was written, skipping half a dozen words, every now and then.

“‘Warrant--hum--for one Captain Edward Amherst--hum--did on divers occasions--hum--practice the said detestable arts, wickedly and feloniously and traitorously, upon and against--hum--the deponents John Bly, Deliverance Hobbs and Benjamin Proctor.’ What is this? ‘Wherefore, that is to say, the said--in manner following--hum--is hereby charged with witchcraft.’

“Witchcraft!” he fairly shouted at the end. “Witchcraft? Has that vile malady come among us?”

“Witchcraft?” faltered Simon, his face white with fear.

“Witchcraft?” I cried out, wondering what would happen next.

“Witchcraft? Who talks of witchcraft?” asked a sweet voice behind us, and we turned to behold Lucille, who had come in unobserved.

“Aye, witchcraft,” replied Captain Carteret, the first to recover from the surprise. “’Tis little, madame, that you can have to do with this crime, which makes the bravest and boldest to shudder in fear. For the evil repute of it 287and the terror it has wrought, has spread to Elizabeth town, even from Salem.”

“Perchance I may have more to do with it than at first appears,” said Lucille. Then I happened to remember something of a certain document she had.

“Let us consider,” went on Carteret, moving a little away from me, and taking care not to look me in the eye. “Simon, you had this warrant, and when you gave it to me I supposed it was for treason against His Most Gracious Majesty, as you stated. ’Tis so endorsed on the outside. How came you by it?”

“From Sir George Keith,” answered Simon, “as he lay dying on the sands, slain----”

“Nay, not slain,” I interrupted sternly, “speak the truth. Not slain, but killed in a fair fight, though it was not my sword that dealt the fatal blow.”

“When he lay dying,” went on Simon, correcting himself, but, otherwise, not heeding me, “he called me, his bond servant, to him, and made me swear an oath that I would take the warrant, and following Captain Amherst, command the first King’s representative I met, to serve it. This I did, for Sir George obtained permission from Captain Amherst, that I might accompany him to this place.”

“Said he what the warrant was for?” asked Carteret.

“Only that it was for treason,” responded Simon. “I 288marked that he pulled two documents from his pocket, looked at them both, and giving me one, replaced the other in his breast. Then he died, and we buried him in the sands.”

I knew then what had occurred. Sir George had made an error. He possessed the original warrant of treason against me, and also the one for witchcraft that he had been at pains to secure in Salem. The two documents were together, and, knowing that the charge of being a witch had failed, he sought, even though he knew he would be dead, to have me apprehended on the other. But he had given the wrong warrant to Simon. So that now the only document I feared was buried with the dead. Ere this the sea had probably washed away all trace of the grave, and, mayhap, the silent occupant.

I was a free man!

Sir George had overreached himself, and set me at liberty, when he meant to send me to prison.

“Know you aught of this witchcraft?” asked the Captain of Simon, never looking at me.

“I heard somewhat of it,” was the sailor’s answer. “There was talk, when I left Salem, that Captain Amherst and others had done many grievous wrongs to innocent persons. I heard something, too, of a warrant for him, but I was not there at the time, being away on business for my lord. Doubtless Captain Amherst fled ere the warrant could be served. But ’tis strange, though,” went on Simon, “that Sir George should speak of a charge 289of high treason against the King, and give me only a warrant for witchcraft.”

“His mind may have played him false,” suggested Carteret. “This often occurs to those about to die.”

“Perchance,” said Simon, gloomily.

But I knew what had happened.

“No matter,” came from Carteret, “the wording of the warrant is of small consequence. Witchcraft being a crime, may well be considered treason against His Majesty, and that is what Sir George meant, I suppose. So, albeit I am little versed in the manner of apprehending spirits, yet I must do my duty, for I am the Governor now, and the representative of the King. ’Tis ill to judge a man ere he is tried, and you may prove no witch, Captain Amherst, but an honest gentleman, and a soldier. Therefore assuming that you are such, yet I want your promise, or, seeing that it savors of war now, your parole, that you will not escape.”

“Escape?” I inquired. “Escape? Where to? How?” for I was not yet ready to tell certain things.

“You must promise that you will not try to get away by any means such as witches use; the riding of broom sticks, of fence rails, or on the back of a black cat (though I do not believe we have one in the place) since I have heard all these means mentioned as being of service to witches when they wish to escape through the air.”

“I promise,” I replied, as gravely as I could.

“And also promise that you will work no harm to any 290in the block house by the black art,” went on Carteret. “Though it might serve, could you practice some devil’s trick on those red servants of His Majesty of the lower regions, who howl without. Say, Captain,” he continued, eagerly, and looking at me for the first time since he had read the warrant, “would it not be within your province and power to summon a horde of witches and have them torment the Indians? That would be fine. The savages would be filled with fear and trembling and the terror of death, and leave us alone.

“Could you not work some such black art as that,” he went on earnestly. “’Twould be a noble use for your powers, and might even serve to absolve you when it comes to trial. What say you?”

“Why do you speak like a child?” I answered with some anger. “Enough of this. I give the promises you want readily, because there is no need to make them. I have no more power as a witch than have you or Simon or----”

“The Lord forbid!” exclaimed Carteret, with fervor. And he shrank back as if to escape contact with me.

“Then you cannot ride a fence rail?” he asked when he had studied over the matter a while longer.

“Nay,” I said, mockingly, for I was weary of the farce.

“Nor a broom stick?”

“Nay.”

“Nor a black cat?”

“Peace! Peace!” I cried; “this is worse than to fight the Indians.”

291“And you can work no magic on them, then?” persisted Carteret.

“Not so much as would cause a papoose to cry out.”

I thought the commander looked disappointed, forgetting his fear of my witch powers in his desire to see them worked on the savages.

“Well, you may consider that you are on parole,” he went on after a pause.

“And you will see, will you not, Captain Carteret, that he is sent back to Governor Phips?” asked Simon. “For that was the last wish of Sir George.”

“Tut, tut, Simon,” said Carteret, “the matter is out of your hands now, though you did your part, and kept your oath as you should. Captain Amherst is my prisoner on parole, and I will consider what further to do, when we have more time, and a greater security in which to discuss it.”

“But I have somewhat to say now, if it please you, Captain Carteret,” I broke in, at the same time stepping forward. Lucille kept near me. “It will not be much.”

“Well?”

“Since it seems that Simon has this warrant against me,” I began, “I will tell you that in Salem town, whence I came I was arrested as a witch about a month back.”

Carteret started as though to leave the room.

“Bah!” I cried, “are you afraid of that man? Why, you would have laughed had you been there to have heard the tales of witchcraft related as evidence in court.”

292And then I told Carteret all that had happened, save only about the first warrant Sir George had, which was for treason, sure enough, though I did not hold it so.

“You seem to have suffered much, you and Mistress Lucille,” said the commander, when I had finished, “and your tale savors of the truth. But as I am only acting as Governor, and the representative of the King in the absence of my brother, I must move cautiously in the matter. If I did not serve the royal warrant, even though it be for witchcraft, which you say does not exist, I may be held to strict account. So though I am loath to so do I must hold you as a prisoner under the aforesaid parole.”

Lucille had been listening to all that was said. At the last words of Carteret she took a step forward, and drew from the bosom of her dress a sea-stained document, the import of which I knew. She held it out to Carteret.

“What? More warrants?” he asked, smiling a little.

“Read,” said Lucille.

He unfolded the parchment.

“‘Royal’--hum--there is a blot here,” he read, “‘royal,’ oh yes, ‘pardon,’ that is it. ‘Royal pardon given by His Excellency, Sir William Phips, Governor of Massachusetts, to one Captain Edward Amherst, of Salem town, who is accused of the crime of witchcraft.’ Why--why----”

“Aye, ‘why, why,’” mimicked Lucille. “What now of prisoners and paroles?”

Carteret stared at the pardon in his hand.

293“Why, this nullifies the warrant,” he said slowly, “if it be a true pardon.”

“True?” exclaimed Lucille. “You will find it true enough. I saw it written. Read to the end.”

Captain Carteret read:

“‘Witness our hand and seal, in the name of His Majesty the King.’”

Then while we stood silent, there arose a terrible cry outside. It was followed by musket shots, and then we heard the Indian war whoop.