With Force and Arms: A Tale of Love and Salem Witchcraft

by Howard Roger Garis

It was a matter of a few minutes to strip from the dead Indian his feathered head-dress with which I managed to decorate myself so that, in the dark, I might pass for a red man. I took off my jacket and trousers, slipping on the breeches of the savage, and, when thus attired I rubbed the upper part of my body, my face and hands, with damp powder, so that my white skin might not betray me.

During this time the firing was not so brisk, either within or without, for our men were saving their powder, and the Indians were busy heaping up brush. The pile was now as large as a house, being within a few feet of the stockade. It was between us and the foe, so we had little chance to fire at them on that side of the block.

It was fairly dark now, but we saw the savages snatching up brands from the fire they had kindled in front and running with them to the large heap.

Carteret helped me make my last arrangements. I selected a place to get over the stockade, that seemed to be somewhat screened from observation. The powder kegs were tied to a rope. I scaled the logs, got on top, hauled the barrels up, and let them down on the outside. Then I scrambled down. For the first time I was a little afraid. Not so much for what might happen to me, as for those I had left behind--for Lucille. It was no small risk, too, this taking of nearly all the powder from the fort. But it seemed the best we could do.

At the foot of the stockade I fastened the kegs over my shoulders with the rope, one keg behind and the other in front. Up to this time I had been hidden by the black shadow of the stockade, but now I was to emerge into the open, when the deception I was practicing might be evident. The barrels on my back and breast bulged out like some deformity; no light load, either. I gathered up some brush, arranged it over the kegs as well as I could and stepped boldly out.

Before I had gone far, I picked up a large branch that some Indian had dropped. This served as a screen for me, as I held it over my shoulder, and stooped as I plodded on. I must have borne some resemblance to the dusky, brush-laden figures all about me, for several savages passed close by me, and gave no sign that I was not one of them.

I nearly dropped my load, when, as I was near the pile, a tall Indian, who seemed to be a chief, addressed some words to me. I recalled that there were red men from several different tribes mingled together, so I merely grunted in my throat, which sounds, I hoped, he would take for an answer in his tongue. He appeared to do so, for he passed on, leaving me alone, though in a cold sweat from the danger.

I was now in the midst of the Indians. They were all about me, hurrying to and fro, getting in each others’ way, all the while adding to the size of the pile of brush and wood. I crouched lower and lower, as I neared the common centre, seeming to stoop under the weight of my burden. The middle of the outer circle of the stack was where I wanted to put the powder, that its force might be extended over a large space. As I neared the spot I noted but one Indian near me. He had a small tree-top, which he cast on the heap. As he turned away to get more fuel, I managed to get rid of the kegs of powder. I rolled them under the edge of the brush, working quickly and in silence. The fuses, which were made of a number of slow matches fastened together, I trailed out on the ground as far as they would go.

A loud call in the Indian tongue was now given. It was taken up, being repeated from mouth to mouth, with different inflections. Soon I saw what seemed like fireflies moving about in the darkness. But they were human insects, and the lights they bore were brands to ignite the huge[huge] pile of brush, which was so large that it needed to be set ablaze in many places at once.

I lighted the fuse, the flash of my tinder-box being unnoticed amid so many lights. There were no less than two hundred savages in a circle about the heap, many busy setting it on fire. From the forest all around more Indians were hastening to be ready for the rush, when the flames had burned a way for them. I saw the spark of the fuse spluttering along the ground, eating its way to the powder. It would burn for two minutes. Then I ran for the stockade. As I did so I went, full-tilt, into a half-naked savage.