by Howard Pyle
“It may require a little ingenuity to get him aboard at this time of the evening,” said the Captain. “But I reckon my first mate, Simmons, can do it, if any one can.”
“Here, Simmons,” to the first mate, who was standing near, “you look like a pillar of the church, go ashore and bring off Master Cotton Mather with you. A wealthy young Englishman is dying — and he cannot pass away from Boston in peace without his ministerial services.”
“Dying?” ejaculated Master Raymond.
“Yes, dying! dying to get married — and you cannot pass out of Boston harbor in peace, without his ministerial services.”
“Would it not do as well to ask him to come and marry us?”
“I doubt it,” replied the Captain. “Master Mather is honest in his faith, even if he is bigoted and superstitious — and death cannot be put off like marriage till tomorrow. But take your own course, Simmons — only bring him.”
“Shall I use force, sir, if he will not come peaceably?” asked the mate coolly.
“Not if it will make a disturbance,” said his commander. “We do not want to run the gauntlet of the castle’s guns as we go out of the harbor. The wind is hardly lively enough for that.”
“I will go down and tell Dulcibel,” said Master Raymond. “It is rather sudden, but she is a maiden of great good sense, and will see clearly the necessity of the case. And as she is an orphan, she has no father or mother whose consent she might consider necessary. But Mate” — going to the side of the vessel, which the boat was just leaving, “not a word as to my name or that of the maiden. That would spoil all.”
“Aye, aye, sir! Trust me to bring him!” and the boat started for the shore, under the vigorous strokes of two oarsmen.
CHAPTER LII.
An Unwilling Parson.
Not quite an hour had elapsed, when the sound of oars was again heard; and Captain Tolley, peering through the dark, saw that another form was seated opposite the mate in the stern-sheets of the boat.
“I thought that Simmons would bring him,” said Captain Tolley to the second mate; “such a smooth tongue as he has. It is a pity he wasn’t a minister himself — his genius is half wasted here.”
“Glad to see you on board the Storm King, Master Mather,” was the greeting of the Captain, as the minister was helped up to the deck by the mates.
“The Storm King! Why I was told that it was an English frigate, just come into port,” said the minister in a surprised voice.
“The messenger must have made a mistake,” replied the Captain coolly. “You know that landsmen always do get things mixed.
“Well, as I am here, no matter. Show me the dying man.”
“Walk down into the cabin,” said the Captain politely.
Entering the cabin which was well lighted, Master Raymond stepped forward, “I am happy to see you, Master Mather. You remember me, do you not?”
“Master Raymond, I believe,” returned the minister coldly. “Where is the dying man who requires my spiritual ministrations?”
“Dying!” laughed the Captain. “How strangely that fellow got things mixed. I said dying to get married — did I not, Master Raymond?”
“Of course you did — that is, after you had explained yourself.”
Master Mather’s face looked blank, he did not know what to make of it.
“In truth, Master Mather,” said the young Englishman, “I was under the necessity of getting married this evening; and, thinking over the worshipful ministers of Boston town, I singled you out as the one I should prefer to officiate on the happy occasion.”
“I decline to have anything to do with it,” said Master Mather indignantly, turning on his heel, and going to the door of the cabin. But here a muscular sailor, with a boarding pike, promptly forbade his passage by putting the pike across the door way.
“What do you mean by barring my way in this manner?” said the minister in great wrath to the captain. “Have you no reverence for the law?”
“Not a particle for Boston law,” replied Captain Tolley. “The only law recognized on board the Storm King is the command of its Captain. You have been brought here to marry these two young friends of mine; and you will not leave the vessel before you do it — if I have to take you with us all the way to China.”
Master Mather pondered the matter for a moment. “This is too informal, there are certain preliminaries that are necessary in such cases.”
“Advisable — but I am told not absolutely necessary,” replied Master Raymond.
“Wait then for an hour or two; and we shall be on the high seas — and out of any jurisdiction,” added Captain Tolley.
“Who is this maiden? Who gives her away?” asked the minister.
“This maiden is Mistress Dulcibel Burton,” said Master Raymond, taking her by the hand.
“She is an orphan; but I give her away,” added the Captain.
“Dulcibel Burton! the serpent witch!” exclaimed Master Mather. “What is that convict doing here? Has she broken jail?”
“Master Mather,” said the Captain in an excited tone, “if you utter another word of insult against this innocent and beautiful maiden, I will have you flung overboard to the sharks! So take care of what you say!” and the indignant seaman shook his finger in the minister’s face warningly.
“Master Mather,” added Raymond, more coolly, “Mistress Burton has not broken jail. She was duly released from custody by Keeper Arnold on the presentation of an official paper by Lady Mary Phips. Therefore your conscience need not be uneasy on that score.”
“Why are you here then — why making this haste? It is evident that there is something wrong about it.”
“Boston has not treated either of us so well that we are very desirous of remaining,” replied Master Raymond. “And as we are going together, it is only decorous that we should get married. If you however refuse to marry us, we shall be compelled to take you with us — for the mere presence of such a respected minister will be sufficient to shield the maiden’s name from all reckless calumniators.”
The second mate came to the door of the cabin. “Captain, there is a fine breeze blowing, it is a pity not to use it.”
“Make all ready, sir,” replied the Captain. Then turning to the minister, “There is no particular hurry, Master Mather. You can take the night to think over it. To-morrow morning probably, if you come to your senses, we may be able to send you ashore somewhere, between here and the capes of the Delaware.”
“This is outrageous!” said Master Mather. “I will hold both of you accountable for it.”
“It is a bad time to threaten, when your head is in the lion’s mouth, Master Mather,” returned Captain Tolley fiercely. “No one knows but my own men that you ever came on board the ‘Storm King.’ How do you know that I am not Captain Kidd himself?”
The minister’s face grew pale. It was no disparagement to his manhood. Even Master Raymond’s face grew very serious — for did even he know that this Captain Tolley might not be the renowned freebooter, of whose many acts of daring and violence the wide seas rang?
“I would counsel you for your own good to do at once what you will have to do ultimately,” said Master Raymond gravely. “I owe you no thanks for anything; but” — and the young man laughed as he turned to Dulcibel— “I never could trap even a fox without pitying the animal.”
Dulcibel went up to the minister, and put her hand upon his arm:— “Do I look so much like a witch?” she said in a playful tone.
“We are told that Satan can enrobe himself like an angel of light,” replied Master Mather severely. “I judge you by what I have heard of your cruel deeds.”
“As you judged the cruel yellow bird that turned out to be only a harmless little chicken,” said Master Raymond sarcastically. “Enough of this folly. Will you marry us now — or not? If you will, you shall be put ashore unharmed. If you will not, you shall go along with us. Make up your mind at once, for we shall soon be out of Boston harbor.”
&n
bsp; Master Mather had a strong will — and an equally strong won’t — but the Philistines were, for this time, too much for him. That reference to Captain Kidd had frightened him badly. “Stand up — and I will marry you. Unscrupulous as you both are, it is better that you should be married by legal rites, than allowed to go your own way to destruction.”
And then — the important ceremony being duly gone through — he pronounced Master Ellis Raymond and Mistress Dulcibel Burton man and wife. The Captain being allowed by Master Raymond to take the first kiss, as acting in the place of the bride’s father.
“No, not a penny!” said the minister, closing his hand against the golden pieces that the groom held out to him. “All I ask is, that you comply with your promise — and put me on shore again as soon as possible.”
“Better take a drink of wine first,” said the Captain, filling up a glass and handing it to him.
“I will neither break bread nor drink wine on this” — he was going to say accursed ship; but the fierce eyes of the possible freebooter were upon him, and he said, “on this unhappy vessel.”
Captain Tolley laughed heartily. “Oh well, good wine never goes begging. The anchor is not up yet, and we will put you off just where you came on. Come along!”
Without a word of leave-taking to the two whom he had joined together, Master Mather followed the Captain. In fact though, Master Raymond and Dulcibel scarcely noted his going, for they were now seated on a small sofa, the arm of the young husband around the shapely waist of his newly-made wife, and the minister dismissed from their minds as completely as the wine-glass out of which they had just drank. He had answered their purpose and in the deep bliss of their new relation, they thought no more about him.
As Master Mather turned to descend to the boat again — not wasting any formal words of leave-taking upon the Captain either — the latter grasped him by the arm.
“Wait one moment,” said Captain Tolley. “You will speak of what has occurred here this evening Master Mather, or not, at your pleasure. But be careful of what you say — for there is no power on this coast, strong enough to protect you against my vengeance!” And with a scowl upon his face, that would not have done injustice to the dreaded Captain Kidd himself, he added in a hoarse, fierce tone the one impressive word “Beware!”
The minister made no reply. It was a day of fierce men and wild deeds — especially on the high seas. Prudence in some positions is far better than valor.
“Now, my hearties! let us get out of this harbor as soon as possible!” cried the Captain. “I might have held him till we were opposite the castle, and put him ashore there; but it is safer as it is. We have a regular clearance, and he cannot do anything legally under an hour or two at least — while in half-an-hour we shall be outside. With a stiff breeze like this, once on the open seas, I fear neither man nor devil!”
CHAPTER LIII.
The Wedding Trip and Where Then.
Whether Master Mather did make any serious effort to prevent the “Storm King” from leaving the harbor, I am unable to say; but as I find no reference to this affair either in his biography or his numerous works, I am inclined to think that like a wise man, he held his peace as to what had occurred, and resolved never to go on board another vessel after nightfall.
Certainly no cannon ball cut the waves as the “Storm King” sailed swiftly past the castle, and no signal was displayed signifying that she must come at once to anchor.
And the little trip to New York was as pleasant in all respects as a young couple on a bridal tour could desire — even if the mere relief from the anxieties and threatened dangers of the previous long months had not been of itself a cause of happiness.
Arrived at New York, Master Philip English and his wife received them with open arms. Master Raymond had brought letters from England to Governor Fletcher and others, and soon made warm friends among the very best people. There was no sympathy whatever in New York at that time with the witchcraft persecutions in Massachusetts; and all fugitives were received, as in the case of the Englishes, with great sympathy and kindness.
Much to my regret, at this point, the old manuscript book to which I have been so largely indebted, suddenly closes its record of the fortunes of Master and Mistress Raymond. Whether they went to England, and took up their residence there among Master Raymond’s friends, or found a home in this new world, I am therefore not able with absolute certainty to say. From what I have been able, however, to gather from other quarters, I have come to the conclusion that they were so much pleased with their reception in New York, that Master Raymond purchased an estate on the east side of the Hudson River, where he and the charming Dulcibel lived and loved to a good old age, leaving three sons and three daughters. If this couple really were our hero and heroine, then the Raymonds became connected, through the three daughters, with the Smiths, the Joneses and the Browns. In one way, perhaps, the question might be set at rest, were it not too delicate a one for successful handling. There is little doubt that among the descendants of Mistress Dulcibel, on the female side, the birth-mark of the serpent, more or less distinct, will be found occasionally occurring, even now, at the lapse of almost two centuries. Therefore, if among the secret traditions of any of the families I have mentioned, there be one relative to this curious birth-mark, doubtless that would be sufficient proof that in their veins runs the rich blood of the charming Dulcibel Raymond.
CHAPTER LIV.
Some Concluding Remarks.
Perhaps before I conclude I should state that the keeper of the Boston Bridewell, Master Arnold, was summarily dismissed for accepting the validity of the Governor’s signature. But he did not take it very grievously to heart for Master Raymond, Captain Alden and others whom he had obliged saw him largely recompensed. Captain Alden, by the way, had fled for concealment to his relatives in Duxbury. Being asked when he appeared there, “Where he came from?” the old captain said “he was fleeing from the devil — who was still after him.” However his relatives managed to keep him safely, until all danger was passed, both from the devil and from his imps.
As for Lady Mary, the indignation of “the faithful” was hot against her — and finally against Sir William, who could not be made to see in it anything but a very good joke. “You know that Lady Mary will have her own way,” he said to Master Mather.
“Wives should be kept in due gospel subjection!” returned the minister.
“Oh, yes, rejoined the Governor smiling; but I wish you had a wife like Lady Mary, and would try it on her! I think we should hear something breaking.”
But when Mistress Ann Putnam and others began “to cry out” against Lady Mary as a witch, the Governor waxed angry in his turn.
“It is time to put a stop to all this,” he said indignantly. “They will denounce me as a witch next.” So he issued a general pardon and jail delivery — alike to the ten persons who were then under sentence of death, to those who had escaped from prison, and to the one hundred and fifty lying in different jails, and the two hundred others who had been denounced for prosecution.
It was a fair blow, delivered at the very front and forehead of the cruel persecution and it did its good work, though it lost Sir William his position — sending him back to England to answer the charges of his enemies, and to die there soon afterwards in his forty-fifth year.
When Chief-Justice Stoughton, engaged in fresh trials against the reputed witches, read the Governor’s proclamation of Pardon, he was so indignant that he left his seat on the bench, and could not be prevailed upon to return to it.
Neither could he, to the day of his death, be brought to see that he had done anything else than what was right in the whole matter.
Not so the jury — which, several years after, confessed its great mistake, and publicly asked forgiveness. Nor Judge Sewall, who rose openly in church, and confessed his fault, and afterward kept one of the days of execution, with every returning year, sacred to repentance and prayer — seeing no person from sunrise to n
ightfall, mourning in the privacy of his own room the sin he had committed.
Mistress Ann Putnam and her husband both died within the seven years, as Dulcibel in her moment of spiritual exaltation had predicted. Her daughter Ann lived to make a public confession, asking pardon of those whom she had (she said unintentionally) injured, and died at the age of thirty-five — her grave being one that nobody wanted their loved ones to lie next to.
As for the majority of the “afflicted circle,” they fell as the years went on into various evil ways — one authority describing them as “abandoned to open and shameless vice.”
Master Philip English, after the issue of the Governor’s pardon, returned to Salem. Seventeen years afterwards, he was still trying to recover his property from the officials of the Province. Of £1500 seized, he never recovered more than £300; while his wife died in two years, at the age of forty-two, in consequence of the treatment to which she had been subjected.
Master Joseph Putnam and his fair Elizabeth lived on in peace at the old place; taking into his service the Quaker Antipas upon his release from prison. The latter was always quiet and peaceful, save when any allusion was made to the witches. But he had easy service and good treatment; and was a great favorite with the children, especially with that image of his father, who afterwards became distinguished as the Major General Putnam of Revolutionary fame.
As for the presents that had been promised to the “afflicted circle,” they came to them duly, and from London too. And they were rich gifts also; but such a collection of odd and grotesque articles, certainly are not often got together. Master Raymond had commissioned an eccentric friend of his in London to purchase them, and send them on; acquainting him with the peculiar circumstances. There were yellow birds, and red dragons, and other fantastic animals, birds and beasts. But they came from London and the “circle” found them just suited to their peculiar tastes; and they always maintained, even in defiance of Mistress Ann, that Master Raymond was a lovely gentleman and an “afflicted” person himself. It will thus be seen that these Salem maidens were in their day truly esthetic — having that sympathetic fondness for unlovely and repulsive things, which is the unerring indication of a daughter of Lilith.
