Ye Lyttle Salem Maide: A Story of WitchcraftMackie, Pauline Bradford
History
Ye Lyttle Salem Maide: A Story of Witchcraft
Mackie, Pauline Bradford
Salem (Mass.) -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction; Trials (Witchcraft) -- Fiction
“These Puritan children are wondrous blest with sense and wit,” quoth
Lord Christopher.
“Bring a wrench,” ordered Lady Phipps. Thus the painful affair was
happily solved.
Abigail, overcome at her temerity in calling out to the gentlefolk, drew
away from the window and waited in much inquietude until she should be
called.
Soon she heard Lady Phipps’ voice at the foot of the stairs. “Hurry down,
dear child; all are ready to start.”
Outside, the Governor was mounted and waiting. Lord Christopher was
drinking a glass of water, with a dash of rum in it as a tonic,
preparatory to starting. Master Ronald had mounted the pillioned horse.
“Make haste, Mistress Abigail,” he cried, “so we may be fairly on our way
before nightfall.” Old Pompey swung the little maid upon the pillion.
The Governor and the soldiers turned their horses’ heads and rode off
grandly. Next the four Moors lifted the handles of the sedan-chair,
turned and followed. Master Ronald spurred his horse and it trotted off
gayly.
Lady Phipps waved her lace-bordered kerchief and the Fellows of Harvard
their caps. Abigail, sorry to say good-by, gazed backwards until her
ladyship’s lilac-gowned figure, surrounded by the students, with her
kerchief fluttering, was hidden from sight by a turn of the road.
Little could Abigail foresee that within the course of several weeks, the
dreaded accusation of witchcraft would be levelled at Lady Phipps.
Many townspeople stood agape on the road to see the imposing company go
by and cross the Common, which was cool and green in the mellow light.
The salt breeze was blowing off the sea. Early as it was, the gallants
and their “Marmalet Madams” were strolling arm in arm. It was still light
when the party reached the river. Here the ferryman took Lord Christopher
across, the rest of the party taking the fordways a short distance
above. As they entered the road on the other shore, Abigail was glad
of companionship, so gloomily the forest rose on all sides. The night
descended sultry and warm as if a storm were brewing. The moon had not
yet risen, but a few pale stars shone mistily.
Now and then between the trees there flashed on their sight the white
line of foam breaking along the beach of the ocean. They made their way
tediously, those who rode suiting the gait of the horses to the rate of
speed maintained by the chair-bearers. Often the poor fellows, straining
under their heavy burden, stumbled on the rough road, jolting the
invalid so that he swore mightily at them.
And there were many fordways to be crossed, so that he was carried up
stream and down stream to find the most shallow places. Twice the streams
were so swollen that the soldiers had to make rude bridges before Lord
Christopher could be taken across.
Shortly before midnight, to the relief of all, the moon arose, breaking
through light clouds.
Abigail first perceived it behind five tall pine trees.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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