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

by Howard Roger Garis

But it was high time that we looked to ourselves. The hill about the fort was black with the French and Indians now. We were outnumbered four to one, and it would be useless to continue the fight longer. How to escape was now the question. I had an idea that they would not advance, and attack us for a little while yet, as our strength was not fully known. They would naturally suppose that we had some reserve, and probably would not charge us until they saw what this amounted to. If we could get to the coast, board the sloops and sail away all might yet be well; save for those we had lost. Bitterly as I hated to return to the Colony without having accomplished our object, I knew that it was the best we could attempt. Perchance we could not even succeed in this.

After a hurried consultation we concluded that our only hope was in fleeing along the north side of the fort. On that face it was the least heavily cannoned. Also there was a little gully, which, if we could enter, might afford some protection from the fire. Once in this, though we had to pass a hail of lead, we could gain the shore and signal the sloops. It was, at best, but a dangerous and hazardous undertaking, yet we must act on that or some other quickly if we ever hoped to see Salem again. It was with anxious spirits then that my men began to load their guns again for what might be our last struggle. I had them leave behind such of their accouterments as could be dispensed with, to enable them to travel light. With a rapidly beating heart, though it pulsated not with fear, I gave the word.

We started off on the run, as if we intended once more to advance to the assault. Then, when within good musket fire distance, we suddenly swerved to the left. It was well that we did so, for there was a shout from the forces in the fort, and, at the same time a belch of flame and smoke, followed by the roar of a cannon that had been pointed so as to cover us, had we kept on our course. The shot with which the gun was loaded, tore up the earth.

Seeing that this firing did us no harm the men in the fort ran to the north side to pick us off as we passed. The rifles began to crack, and the bullets to sing about our ears like angry hornets, but my men held their fire for closer quarters. Now we were abreast of the northern wall of the stockade. It took some little time, however, for the enemy to get to the loop holes, and, by a good providence it happened that the cannon on that side were not loaded. Running at top speed we pressed on. One man fell behind me, shot through the head; another stumbled at my right hand, pitched on his face, and, with a gush of blood from the mouth, was dead. Three or four were hit but kept on. We had entered the little glen now, and were somewhat screened from the musket fire. Just ahead I could discern the sea, and, calling encouragingly to my band, I pressed on. Ah, if only the sloops were at hand.

“Cory! Cory!” I cried. “Bear off to the right of the fort! Cory to the rescue!”

Whether he heard me at the time I know not, but a dull boom from one of the sloop’s cannon told me that some on board were still alive. I reached the shore and halted to let my command pass me. The fire from the fort could reach us here, and every minute it was becoming more deadly. Several men were killed. Little clouds of dry sand, caused by the striking of the bullets, rose all around us. I glanced to where the sloops floated. The sails were set and they forged toward us slowly. There was a chance that we might yet be saved. Panting from their run the men drew up on the beach. Nearer and nearer came the vessels.

“To the rock, Captain! To the rock!” Cory cried. “We can take you off there!”

Then I saw that on our left hand there was a small headland of rock, which jutted out into the sea. It went down straight into the depths of water, and the top part overhung so that a skillful pilot might sail a small sloop beneath, and receive his passengers from the rock above, if they would but drop to the deck.

“To the rock, men!” I called, understanding Cory’s plan.

They heard me, but now a new danger presented. The French and Indians were making ready to unbar the northern gate, and pour out upon us. Even as I looked I saw the first of them coming from the stockade. I called a score of the best marksmen, and had them take each a spare loaded rifle from their comrades. The other men hurried on, and reached the rock. Cory directed his sloop beneath, and I saw that in a short time the men could drop to the vessel’s deck. Then the rush of the Indians and the French began. The air resounded with the yells of the savages.