I dreamed that night I was back in Pemaquid, with the cannon pounding away at the fort, bringing the stout timbers down about my ears. I fought the fight over again, and suddenly awoke in the gray dawn of the morning to hear a thundering summons at my door.

“Hello!” I cried, springing from bed, and seizing my sword. My eyes were heavy with sleep, and I thought the Indians were upon us.

The knock came once more, and it did not sound so loud to me when I had shaken off some of the slumber.

“Who’s there?” I called again.

“’Tis I, John Putnam, constable of Salem town under His Most Gracious Majesty, the King,” was the reply.

A nameless dread, a chill, seized me, though I knew not the reason for it. As the constable’s words died away I detected the sound of moving feet beyond the oak door that separated us. I thought at once that Sir George had sent the royal warrant for treason to be executed upon me.

“Wait,” I cried, wishing to gain a little time. Then 141for an instant I reasoned with myself. What should I do? Give battle now, trusting to break through the ranks of those the constable had brought with him, and, if successful, flee? Or tarry and see the affair through? I did not like to run for it on the first appearance of danger. Perhaps after all I could find a way of escape. So in the next instant I had made up my mind to take my arrest quietly.

I had an idea that the fighting I had done in behalf of the Colony would stand me in good stead, and serve to gain me a pardon from the court.

Once more the summons came.

“We’ll not wait much longer,” was the warning from without.

“Then enter,” I called, flinging open the door. I stood face to face with a half score of men, all armed, who well nigh filled the little hall. John Putnam, the constable, was at their head.

“Your errand?” I inquired, shortly, thinking I knew it as well as he.

“I have a warrant, a royal warrant, for your body,” began the constable pompously.

“I know it full well,” was my answer.

I noticed that the bodyguard, accompanying Master Putnam, looked one at the other at this. A burly red-haired farmer, who clasped his flint-lock as he would a club, whispered to the man next him:

142“Mark you that, neighbor Passden? There is Satan’s work. He hath informed the Captain in advance of our coming, and of the royal warrant, which our worthy constable has not even yet removed from his jacket pocket. Saw you ever the like?”

“Hush! Not so loud,” murmured the one addressed. “Aye, ’tis fearfully marvelous. But speak not of it, or he may cast a spell of the evil on us,” and the two shrank away.

I heard the whispers, but knew not what it all meant. I looked at the constable, seeking an explanation.

“I hold a warrant,” he went on, “against you, Captain Edward Amherst, charging you with certain detestable arts called witchcraft.”

“What!” I cried. “Have you lost your senses, Master Putnam?”

“Nay, hear me out,” he protested, drawing a parchment with a red seal dangling therefrom, out of his pocket. The men closed up around me.

“You are charged,” the constable continued, slanting the document, so as to catch the light of the rising sun from an east window full upon it, “charged with practicing witchcraft, and sorceries, wickedly and feloniously, upon and against Deliverance Hobbs, Benjamin Proctor and John Bly. All of whom last night made depositions of the facts before our gracious and most worthy Honor, Justice Hathorne. And I hereby arrest you, Captain Amherst, 143on this warrant. You will be arraigned for trial this day at the court of Oyer and Terminer, to be holden here by Justices Hathorne and Corwin. You are, therefore, my prisoner.”

The constable folded the warrant together, and I noticed, when too late, that he had been gradually edging himself nearer to me. Suddenly he sprang at me, and threw his arms around mine, pinning my hands to my sides. I had been stunned by the quick change from what I had been expecting to that which I never dreamed of. But when I felt the hands of the constable upon me, his arms about my body, my resolve to submit quietly flew to the wind, and I nerved myself for the coming struggle.

I spread my arms apart, and easily forced off the hold of the constable. Then I turned quickly and picked Master Putnam up as if he had been but a small barrel of cider. I cast him out of the door, so that he fell against the crowd of men, and some of them were knocked down, none too gently, I fear, by his flight through the air.

Then I drew my sword from the scabbard, and stood ready to defend myself, but they were a trifle wary now about advancing. For perhaps a minute I stood thus, holding them at bay with the point of my weapon.

But one man unobserved had crawled into the room behind me. Of a sudden I felt something fall over my head and slip down about my arms. It was a rope noose, and it was quickly pulled taut, so that my hands were fastened 144to my sides. I was helpless in an instant, with no chance to use my sword.

“At him now, neighbors!” cried a big farmer, casting his flint-lock to the floor. “The Lord of Hosts is on our side, and He will enable us to prevail, and overcome the mighty disciple of Satan.”

“Aye, at him now, at him now! Kill the witch!” cried others.

On came the crowd with a rush, seeing that I was fast bound and helpless. However, with a kick from each foot in turn I disabled two of the constable’s guard as they sought to fall upon me, but the others were too many to cope with, and they forced me down by sheer weight and numbers. More ropes were brought and soon I was tied as neatly as a fowl trussed for roasting.

Without a word they carried me away in that sorry fashion, Constable Putnam limping along in the rear of the procession, for it appeared he had been somewhat hurt when he went out of the door so quickly.

I was taken to Salem gaol, and when it was reached, the iron studded door swung open, and I was thrust among two score others, suspected of witchcraft, who were waiting trial. A groan went up as I was added to their company. The door banged shut, hiding from view the pleasant sun, which was just rising, and drowning the songs of the birds.

My captors placed me on the floor with no gentle hands, 145and went away. Some of the prisoners, however, lifted me up on a bench, so that I was more comfortable in body, though ............