Chapter 18 #2
Robert was to have come to trial on June twenty-ninth but he was too ill on that particular date to stand; so the magistrates took mercy and postponed his date.
Brianna did not attend any trials, though she had set her hand to a petition stressing that old Rebecca Nurse had been a kind and charitable neighbor who could not possibly be a witch.
Sloan did attend the trials and was horrified at the evidence presented.
Rebecca was such a pillar of the community that even Hathorne doubted her a witch.
When sent out for deliberations, the jury came back with a verdict of not guilty.
But the magistrates asked them to resume their deliberations, for when another of the women on trial, Sarah Good, had come in, Rebecca had muttered something about her “being one of them.” She meant that Sarah was a fellow prisoner, Sloan knew, but the court was obsessed with the belief that she meant a fellow witch.
Being old and hard of hearing, she had not answered when asked about her reply.
But Sloan did not need to protest on her account. Rebecca had a large family and they meant to do something.
One of the women tried that day, Susanna Martin, had quite a reputation for maliciousness. She was condemned for having bewitched a man’s oxen and for having appeared in a number of men’s bedchambers to taunt them into signing the “devil’s book.”
Five women were condemned in those days.
Sloan longed to do something—even if Susanna Martin was a nasty old woman, she did not deserve to hang for such a thing.
Two of the matrons had been pious and calm and soft-spoken, no matter what ridiculous thing they were accused of.
Like Robert, they absolutely refused to “belie” themselves—they believed in a far greater judgment than that which they would find on earth.
Sloan wrote to the king and queen, yet knew it would be a long time before an answer could come, much longer than these women could wait. They were scheduled to die on July nineteenth.
When Sloan came to tell Brianna the news, he warned her in hushed tones that they should try their escape soon.
She looked horrible, he decided that day. Too, too thin, and pale. “I’m afraid,” she whispered to him, closing the door to the bedroom. “I don’t think we can move him at all now! Since those nights he spent in jail he can barely breathe!” she told him.
Sloan watched the grief in her face and could barely stand it. “Brianna, I’m going to Boston, to bring the Sea Hawk to Salem in readiness. We cannot wait much longer to leave Salem.”
“We must! They haven’t tried Robert yet, Sloan.” But then she sank into a chair and rested her head tiredly against the wall. “Rebecca Nurse! How could they condemn her?”
“Her family is still trying for a reprieve. Perhaps the governor will grant one. I plan to see him myself, but …” He hesitated.
“Brianna, I can not stand much more of this. I can’t get too heavily involved, or anything that I say will be discounted when it matters.
” He hesitated a moment, then said angrily, “When I return, you will be ready to leave!”
He saw the stubborn set to her jaw, and left her.
He didn’t attend the executions on Gallows Hill, but Cedric did.
“Rebecca went like a lamb to God’s fold, a prayer on her lips, an awesome dignity about her.
But Sarah Good! The assemblage was shocked, for what Christian dies with a curse on her lips?
Sarah promised the Reverend Noyes that he would die choking on his own blood! ”
“Good for the old pipe-smoking hag!” Sloan exclaimed.
Rikky chuckled dryly. “I’d not make that sentiment well known, Treveryan.
Even those kindly reverends of Boston who do not trust ‘spectral’ evidence do most assuredly believe that old Goody Good was a witch!
But not Rebecca Nurse,” Rikky said softly, with a gentle reverence.
He glanced at Sloan and grimaced. “I believe you’ve made a crusader of me, too, friend.
Do you believe that I, a lord of the king’s realm, plan to spend my evening with the relatives of that lady?
Deep and dark at night we will go to Gallows Hill and dig up her body to give it proper burial. ”
“A toast to you, Rikky!” Sloan said, and the two shared a glass of Irish whiskey.
“I’m riding to Boston tomorrow,” Sloan said then, “to pull my crew together and try to prevail on some sane ministers to make their thoughts more fully known to the magistrates.” He paused. “Keep an eye on her, will you, Rikky?”
“Aye, that I will,” Rikky said, a droll humor in his eyes. “The lady must truly be virtuous if you trust me to watch her.”
Sloan laughed. “Why, Rikky, you know as well that I could take you with a blade in seconds and we both know full well that you would never put me to the test! Besides,” he added more soberly, “she is virtuous, not to me, but to her husband.”
Rikky raised a skeptical brow. “You are not—”
“Lovers? No.”
Rikky suddenly became thoughtful and serious. “Aye, Sloan, I’ll watch her, and guard her, with all the power I have.”
Sloan left for Boston in the morning. When he arrived, he easily found Paddy in a tavern on the wharf.
Paddy was tired of inaction and totally impatient with the situation around them.
“Blimey, but this is scary, Cap’n! Listening to the talk hereabouts.
They argue nothing but witches night and day! ”
“Aye, and I fear we’re up to more of it. Tell the crew they’ll not be endangered this time; we’ll oil some palms well and depart with the night.”
Paddy eyed him curiously. “We don’t mind action, Cap’n. Weren’t we with you in Ireland, Sloan, every last jackanapes of us?”
“Aye, that you were. But I’m tired of losing men, Paddy. And I’m getting tired of hangings.”
Paddy shook his head and leaned over his ale. “It’s a strange world, that it is.”
Sloan clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got some men to see, so I’ll meet you next in Salem. How’s the Sea Hawk?”
“Ready to go, Cap’n. Oh, and Cap’n! I’ve got something for you”—he produced an envelope—“from Lady Eastwood in New York.”
Sloan pocketed the letter. “Thanks, Paddy.”
He saw a number of the members of the Boston ministry who were critics of the proceedings, but he learned nothing that could help him. After two days he returned to Salem, determined to make definite plans for escape.