Dulcibel: A Tale of Old Salem

by Henry Peterson

  CHAPTER XVI.

  Dulcibel in Prison.

  In the previous cases of alleged witchcraft to which I have alluded, thedetails given in my manuscript volume were fully corroborated, evenalmost to the minutest particulars, by official records now inexistence. But in what I have related, and am about to relate, relativeto Dulcibel Burton, I shall have to rely entirely upon the manuscriptvolume. Still, as there is nothing there averred more unreasonable andabsurd than what is found in the existing official records, I see noreason to doubt the entire truthfulness of the story. In fact, it wouldbe difficult to imagine grosser and more ridiculous accusations thanwere made by Mistress Ann Putnam against that venerable and truly devoutand Christian matron, Rebecca Nurse.

  When Dulcibel and Antipas, in the custody of four constables, reachedthe Salem jail, it was about eleven o'clock at night. The jailor,evidently had expected them; for he threw open the door at once. He wasa stout, strong-built man, with not a bad countenance for a jailer; butseemed thoroughly imbued with the prevailing superstition, judging bythe harsh manner in which he received the prisoners.

  "I've got two strong holes for these imps of Satan; bring 'em along!"

  The jail was built of logs, and divided inside into a number of smallrooms or cells. In each of these cells was a narrow bedstead and a stonejug and slop bucket. Antipas was hustled into one cell, and, after beingchained, the door was bolted upon him. Then Dulcibel was taken intoanother, though rather larger cell, and the jailor said, "Now she willnot trouble other people for a while, my masters."

  "Are you not going to put irons on her, Master Foster?" said Herrick.

  "Of course I am. But I must get heavier chains than those to hold such apowerful witch as she is. Trust her to me, Master Herrick. She'll be tooheavy to fly about on her broomsticks by the time I have done with her."

  Then they all went out and Dulcibel heard the heavy bolt shoot into itssocket, and the voices dying away as the men went down the stairs.

  She groped her way to the bed in the darkness, sat down upon it andburst into tears. It was like a change from Paradise into the infernalregions. A few hours before and she had been musing in an ecstasy of joyover her betrothal, and dreaming bright dreams of the future, suchperhaps as only a maiden can dream in the rapture of her first love. Nowshe was sitting in a prison cell, accused of a deadly crime, and herlife and good reputation in the most imminent danger. One thing alonebuoyed her up--the knowledge that her lover was fully aware of herinnocence; and that he and Joseph Putnam would do all that they could doin her behalf. But then the sad thought came, that to aid her in any waymight be only to bring upon themselves a similar accusation. And then,with a noble woman's spirit of self-sacrifice, she thought: "No, letthem not be brought into danger. Better, far better, that I shouldsuffer alone, than drag down my friends with me."

  Here she heard the noise of the bolt being withdrawn, and saw the dimlight of the jailer's candle.

  As the jailer entered he threw down some heavy irons in the corner ofthe room. Then, he closed the door behind him, and came up to theunhappy girl. He laid his hand upon her shoulder and said:

  "You little witch!"

  Something in the tone seemed to strike upon the maiden's ear as if itwere not unfamiliar to her; and she looked up hastily.

  "Do you not remember me, little Dulcy? Why I rocked you on my foot inthe old Captain's house in Boston many a day."

  "Is it not uncle Robie?" said the girl. She had not seen him since shewas four years old.

  The jailer smiled. "Of course it is," he replied, "just uncle Robie. Theold captain never went to sea that Robie Foster did not go as firstmate. And a blessed day it was when I came to be first mate of thisjail-ship; though I never thought to see the old captain's bonnie birdamong my boarders."

  "And do you think I really am a witch, uncle Robie?"

  "Of course ye are. A witch of the worst kind," replied Robie, with achuckle. "Now, when I come in here tomorrow morning nae doobt I willfind all your chains off. It is just sae with pretty much all theothers. I cannot keep them chained, try my best and prettiest."

  "And Antipas?"

  "Oh, he will just be like all the rest of them, doobtless. He is apowerful witch, and half a Quaker, besides."

  "But do you really believe in witches, uncle Robie?"

  "What do these deuced Barebones Puritans know about witches, or thedevil, or anything else? There is only one true church, MistressDulcibel. I have sa mooch respect for the clergy as any man; but I don'ttake my sailing orders from a set of sourfaced old pirates."

  Then, leaving her a candle and telling her to keep up a stout heart, thejailer left the cell; and Dulcibel heard the heavy bolt again drawn uponher, with a much lighter heart, than before. Examining the bundle ofclothes that Goodwife Buckley had made up, she found that nothingessential to her comfort had been forgotten, and she soon was sleepingas peacefully in her prison cell as if she were in her own pretty littlechamber.