Men had been set at work burying the bodies. Others were rebuilding the stockade, and some were detailed to lay to rest our dead.
Many families, who lived near by, had gone back to their homes, to begin life where they had left off when the Indians came. Wagons laden with household goods were leaving the fort. Only a few farmhouses had been burned by the savages.
“I am writing to Governor Phips,” said Carteret, “to tell him you are here, and send him back the warrant for witchcraft, which is of no use, since he has pardoned you. That was a marvelous tale you told, of the days in Salem.”
“Do not recall them,” I begged. “They were days of sorrow and peril.”
“Lieutenant Jenkins is about to sail for Boston in a few days,” went on the Captain, “and he will take this missive to Sir William Phips. So that matter is ended.”
“What of Simon?”
“I have not seen him since that time we were all in the room together,” said Carteret, “but he is doubtless about somewhere. He will probably want to leave this place now. If you wish I will offer him passage to Boston with Master Jenkins. He can join his friends there.”
“I think I should like that,” I replied. “For, somehow, I am not at ease while he is about, particularly as Mistress Lucille is here.”
“Then he goes to Boston, friend Amherst.”
The Captain and I fell to talking of the future. Supper was served ere we had finished, and we continued over the meal. He asked me if I would not like to settle in Elizabeth.