A Break With Charity: A Story About the Salem Witch Trials (22 page)

Outside, sheets of rain came again, tearing against the windows. Mr. Endicott leaned forward.

"We were just out of Barbados, and the sea was calm. The storm came up at dusk, from out of nowhere. My ship, the
Good Intent
, was sturdy, but it was a vengeful storm. I lost the mainmast. Waves swept over us, throwing the
Good intent
on her side and my crew into the sea. Most swam back to the wreck, myself included, though my right leg was smashed. All night the storm wreaked havoc with the
Good Intent
while we clung to her. And in the midst of it I looked up and saw Mary Bradbury, her clothing as dry and spotless as if she sat at Meeting."

"Could not the ravages of the storm have made you delirious?"

He set down his mug and picked up his pipe and began to fill it, but he never took those old and weary eyes from me. "Lass, when you've been at sea as long as I, you see all manner of strange things. Pirates, sea monsters, boiling waters in the middle of the ocean, drownings, murders, duels on board, haunted galleons that sail by with no crew on moonless nights, floating bodies that appear out of nowhere on the calmest of waters. And, yes, witches on the windlass. For a sea captain not to believe what he sees, invites trouble. Ask your brother when he returns."

"You say Mary Bradbury boasted to you of leading pirates to the
William and Susanna
," I pressed.

"Aye, lass, she did."

"When?"

"When I spoke with her a fortnight ago. She's in Arnold's Jail here in Boston, awaiting trial. She said mine wasn't the only vessel she destroyed. And indeed, her demonic activities are well known amongst Massachusetts Bay Colony seamen."

"Then why do they have dealings with her?"

"They fear buying their butter from anyone else, as do I. With her own tongue she told me..." Here he broke off and looked at Johnathan. " 'Tis not a seemly matter to let fall on a young girl's ears," he said.

"Tell me," I insisted. "If it's about my brother, I must know."

"Aye, lass. She said she would avenge herself on William English by causing harm to the
Amiable Tiger
on its voyage home."

"The
Amiable Tiger?
"

"Aye, lass. It's the forty-five-ton schooner recently out of Guadeloupe, bound for Massachusetts Bay Colony. Your brother is on it."

I felt a surge of joy, quickly benumbed by fear. "How come you to know William is on this ship?"

"Mary Bradbury told me."

"How does she come by such knowledge?"

He shrugged and puffed his pipe. He did not answer, but his eyes said all he would not put into words.

"Why does she wish to avenge my brother?"

"That is the unseemly part, but you would have me say it. Many a witch visits a man in his chamber at night. Witches are seducers of men. She told me young William English would not have her when she visited him in his cabin on the
William and Susanna.
"

I looked at Johnathan. He was shaking his head. "We should take our leave, Susanna. It is late."

"Yes." Numbly I got to my feet and thanked Mr. Endicott.

" 'Twas a pleasure, lass. We'll have that witch condemned, never you worry. She'll visit your brother no more on his ship. Or sit on anyone else's windlass."

"You don't believe his tale, do you, Susanna?" Johnathan asked me in the carriage on the ride back to John Alden's.

"He believes it," I said.

"He's a seaman. He fears tempting fate. If
you
believe it, you'll be like so many others in Salem, believing in witches."

I sank back in the seat as we raced through Boston's winding streets in the rain. My head was spinning. Johnathan was right, I decided, there are no witches. And for me to believe Sam Endicott would mean I, too, would be swallowed up in the witch madness.

But it was so easy to be drawn into it when one of your own was threatened! And hadn't Mary Bradbury threatened William's return voyage? How did she, living in Salisbury, know the name of the schooner he was returning on unless she was a witch?

My feelings were betraying me. Were there, indeed, witches? I knew by now that certain people had powers. Tituba had them. Hadn't she predicted that I would see the ship of clouds?

Did some people have special powers for good and other people have them for evil? Did such special powers make people witches? Had the actions of the girls in the circle, innocent enough in the beginning, simply opened a door through which witches had entered?

Oh, I did not know, I did not know! I knew nothing anymore, it seemed. All reason had fled. But through my confusion, one thought pushed its way, like a haunted galleon through a wall of fog.

I could not tell the truth about the girls in the circle until William safely returned. I must let the witch trials continue. Mary Bradbury must go to trial. Certainly, she would be condemned. I could not take the chance and let her live. Or William might be destroyed.

And then, just as I had made my decision, as if struck by some unseen hand, our carriage seemed to drop to the ground and come to a grinding halt. Johnathan and I were tossed about inside. I hit my head on something and I heard the driver yell in an attempt to halt the horse.

For a moment, I went unconscious. When I became sensible again, Johnathan was patting my hand and calling my name.

"Susanna, are you all right?"

"What happened?" I was on the floor, looking up at him.

He helped me onto the seat. "I think we broke a wheel."

"Oh, Johnathan!"

"Stay here. I'll get out and confer with the driver."

THE NIGHT
watch was crying the hour when we arrived back at Alden's. Eight o'clock. It had taken us three hours to repair the carriage. The driver had had to send to a wheelwright on the other side of town for a new wheel. We arrived at Alden's wet and hungry, and my head hurt. Joseph awaited us in the empty company room.

I was in a fevered pitch of anxiety, hoping my parents and sister had waited for us. But they were nowhere in sight.

Joseph stood, grim and white of face, his arms folded across his chest. "It is good of you to make an appearance this evening," he said coldly. His blue eyes were frosty and veiled over with a mist of anger.

"Our carriage wheel broke," Johnathan explained. "Or we would have been here three hours ago."

"And where did you go in this carriage? Or need I not ask?"

I spoke up. "It isn't Johnathan's fault, Joseph. Don't blame him. I prevailed upon him to take me to see Sam Endicott."

"Don't tell me where to direct my anger, please. I will direct it at whomever I wish."

We stood like naughty children before him. I searched the rooms beyond us, hoping against all hope that my parents and sister would appear any moment, that he had them hidden in the kitchen, perhaps. He saw me casting my gaze about.

"Your family was here and gone," he said coldly. "Your parents had to be back in Arnold's Jail by dusk. But first they had to take Mary back to her lodgings."

I choked back a sob but to no avail. The burden of the whole afternoon had been too much for me.
I had missed my family. And they had waited for me.
Oh, I could not bear it. I began to weep openly. Johnathan took my hand.

"I went through great pains to transport your family here," Joseph said. "On an afternoon when I had much else to do."

"I'm sorry, Joseph," I said. Johnathan murmured his apology, also, but Joseph dismissed our words and brushed past us to the door.

"You owe such words to your family," he said. "They dearly wished to see you. Come along, we must catch the ferry."

John Alden came into the room then. "There is food in the kitchen. Don't you want some before your journey?"

But I had lost all appetite. I said no and thanked him. He smiled at me kindly. "I met your family. They are good people. My house is open to all of you if you wish to stay the night. Then you could see them tomorrow."

"Oh, could we, Joseph, please?" I begged.

"Thank you," he said to Alden, "but I must get home to Elizabeth and the babe. We never know, hour to hour, if we will be the next accused. I have been gone too long already. I say come now, you two. The ferry does not dally."

We arrived home near midnight. Joseph had not spoken to us all the way. I fell into bed, exhausted. Johnathan stayed the night but was gone in the morning. I woke to a blue sky, clear air, and an earth washed by rain. But Joseph's silence was still oppressive. And after breakfast, he summoned me to his library and closed the door.

I prepared myself for another scolding, praying I would have the mettle to stand up to him. But he spoke with sadness and kindness instead.

"Susanna, I met with Reverend Moody yesterday, as well as with your parents. He will call on your mother and father at the end of this week and invite them to public worship in his church. The text of his sermon will be, 'If they persecute you in one city, flee to another.'"

I tried to understand. Clearly, he was readying me for some grievous news.

"After the service, Moody will invite them and your sister to dine in his home, as he has done so graciously over these past few weeks. He will then convince your parents not to come back to Salem for their trial but to flee instead."

"When are they due in Salem for trial?"

"Monday next. Your father wants to stand before the judges, because to flee from trial would be the same as if he were convicted. He knows they can then seize his property and he must forfeit it. And your father is a man of much wealth. It will be Moody's job to convince your father that there will be no justice for him back in Salem. The good reverend and I have provided a means of escape for your family. They will stay with merchant friends in New York."

I understood then what he was telling me. "I will not see them again, will I?"

"Not for a while, Susanna, no."

I started to cry, quietly. He did not change his expression, but neither did he utter words of recrimination. "You will see them someday," he said kindly.

"Take me back to Boston, Joseph," I begged.

"Only if you wish to go to New York with them, Susanna. It is too dangerous otherwise. None of this is pleasurable for me. Don't think I take satisfaction from your misery. Johnathan told me last night why you went to see Sam Endicott. He also said you tend to believe the man's story. Do you?"

"I don't know what I believe anymore," I said.

"Well, I do," he said. "And I know I can get Magistrate Pike to put quill to paper and write to Magistrate Corwin. If we tell Pike what we both now know."

I stared at him. What was he saying?

"I have written to Pike, inviting him to the trials here in Salem the first week in August. George Jacobs, Martha Carrier, George Burroughs, John and Elizabeth Proctor, and John Willard come to trial then."

"Willard?" I asked. "The deputy constable who drove my parents to Boston?"

He smiled ruefully. "Yes. He came back from that trip to tell the magistrates of the wrongness of their doings, that he would bring in no more friends or neighbors, and that they should hang the afflicted girls for witches. The girls cried out on him."

I pondered this in silence.

"When Pike comes in August, Susanna, I would have you tell him what you know about the circle."

I looked out the window, saying nothing.

"Your family will be safe in New York by then. But we must prevent the execution of others."

I continued to gaze outside. A morning breeze lifted the leaves of the trees. I heard the floorboards creak as Joseph came to stand beside me.

"You will do it, won't you, Susanna?"

I looked up into his face, which I had come to know and love as one would love a father's or brother's. "Oh, Joseph, I can't. Please forgive me." And I burst into a fresh onslaught of tears and ran from the room.

Over the next fortnight, I did not know where to fasten my misery. On my foolishness for missing my parents' visit at Alden's house or on the fact that I was hurting Joseph.

Within this time, Joseph handed me a letter from my parents. They had escaped and were on their way to New York with Mary and were faring well.

He looked at me as he handed me the letter. "You must now expect your father's belongings to be confiscated, Susanna," he said. "He has made provisions for the servants."

Joseph gave me my peace, never once chiding me about refusing to speak to Pike when he came to Salem in August. He continued to treat me with quiet courtesy. But whenever his eyes met mine, I saw in them the burden of what I was doing to him.

I began to wish I had never come to stay with him and Elizabeth. They were like kin to me now. I had brought disorder into their household. Such a thing was unforgivable.

I took many walks in the meadows. I wandered down the path to the gate to await Johnathan. Over and over in my head on these walks, I reviewed the facts. Sam Endicott had visited Mary Bradbury in prison. She told him William was on the
Amiable Tiger,
bound for home. My parents had said in their letter that they'd heard nothing from William, but that Mama prayed for him daily.