'Get thee behind me, Satan!' said the agitated Harris. He then looked round for a moment, with a bewildered and uncertain gaze. Lyford had disappeared; Bolton and his companions had fled like the wind. Harris then closed his eyes, and fell on his knees, uttering a hurried and tremulous prayer. Looking up again, the fearful apparition still advanced, and when in the light that was blazing all around, Harris caught sight of his cloven foot, the unhappy jailer no longer doubted that Satan in person was at hand, in behalf of Miss Lyford. The Bible dropped from his hands, the voice of prayer died on his lips. Steel and pistol were of no avail. No other weapon remained, and taking to his heels, the unlucky Harris deserted his post, and fled like a racer for his life, into the depths of the forest. Looking for a moment from behind a tree, he saw the fiery dragon enter the house. Then, redoubling his speed, he pushed on over bushes, fences and brooks, until he plunged into a ditch, from which, after floundering about for an hour, he made shift to get, weary and exhausted, upon its neighboring bank. Even here he dared not open his eyes, lest the terrible image, in its lurid flames, should once more haunt his vision; but falling on his knees, he devoutly returned thanks, for the strength he had received to flee from the destroyer.
Meanwhile, the faithful Somers rushed into the house, and with a single stroke of his axe, broke in the door of Miss Lyford's chamber, and then bearing her down stairs, he placed her in a wagon, which had been provided at a little distance, for the occasion. Walter having divested himself of his dragon's dress, left the horns, the cloven foot and the black robe in the jailer's room, and with Lyford, hastened to the beach, where Somers and Mary had already arrived, and in a few moments, they were all safely on board the Water Witch. The wife and child of Somers had been sent on board, early in the evening, and when the next morning dawned, they were ten leagues from Salem harbor, on their way to Virginia.
The scheme which had been so completely successful was entirely the invention of Strale; its details were arranged with the utmost precision and care, and it was executed with an admirable degree of coolness and skill. Gunpowder in its various adaptations produced the fire. The burning of tobacco caused the smoke, which seemed to proceed from his breath. His face blackened and disfigured, a black gown thrown over his shoulders, and leather sandals in the form of cloven feet, completed the disguise.
It was not surprising that a device, which in ordinary circumstances would have been equally foolish and hopeless, should be, in the present state of public feeling, perfectly adapted to its end. It was then supposed that visible appearances from the world of spirits were not uncommon, and the disordered fancies of men created innumerable apparitions and shapes of evil, which the senses gifted with supernatural acuteness, were enabled to discern among the grosser forms of the material world.
The chronicle we have consulted does not reveal the process by which the mode of Miss Lyford's escape was concealed from the public eye. Yet it contains some hints on this point which are reserved for our next chapter, and it also intimates that many secrets were kept by the men in power, which, had they been disclosed, would have covered the actors in these tragedies with confusion and shame, and finished at once the work of persecution and death.
CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.
The morning dawned with a most welcome radiance upon the haggard and exhausted Harris, as he lay on the bank of a muddy brook, from which, after his desperate efforts in the ditch, he had no strength to retreat. But he soon felt the refreshing influence of the morning air, and as he cast his eye over the different and well-known objects around him, his scattered senses began to return and his courage to revive. He saw in the miserable plight of his dress and the bruises on his limbs that he had been foiled in his great battle with the adversary; but he hoped that after all Satan had been so much annoyed by his prayers and quotations, that he had fled out of the region. He dared not, however, venture back into the house, until he saw Bolton coming towards him, who having fled at the first onset, was not so stupified with terror as his friend Harris. Bolton, however, looked as if he had passed a comfortless night. He had been separated from the other guards, who had sought their own safety, and at last found shelter in a cottage, distant from town, where he remained till morning.
'How came you, Bolton, to leave me to fight the battle alone?' exclaimed Harris.