At this place Governor Phips had begun to build a fort, and he had sent a small garrison there. The commander signaled to us as we sailed by, and I ordered the sloops to come to anchor until a boat could put off from the fort.
I was somewhat surprised to receive from one of the garrison a letter, addressed to me from Sir William. He told me that, expecting I would stop at Pemaquid, in the event of success or failure, he had sent the message there to intercept me. And the import of it was that I was to take command of the fort, holding it with the men there, and with such of my own men as would volunteer for the service. We might expect to be attacked at any time, Sir William said.
Now, though I was heart-weary to be back in Salem it was no part of a soldier’s duty to complain, so I briefly told my men of the Governor’s letter. Then I proceeded to find what command I would have.
Of those of my original company only fifty were able to be of service. But I might not count on all of them, for, of the Salem recruits, only those who volunteered were to stay. So I mustered them in line, and gave the word for those who wished to fight no more to step aside. I was not a little pleased when only eight withdrew from the ranks. With the garrison already at the fort this gave me a command of one hundred and fifty men.
A few days sufficed to repair the sloops, and they left for Salem, bearing a letter from me to Sir William. When the sails were low on the horizon we turned to getting the fort in shape to withstand an attack. The work was less laborious than that we had recently been accustomed to, and we were all glad of the respite. In time we had the place in as good state as it could be put.
One day, toward evening, as I sat in the gateway of the fort, I saw, out in the woods, a man approaching. His steps were not rapid, and, at times, he appeared to stop to gather strength. His actions were so strange that I sent one of my men out to see who the stranger was. The two met, and my man, linking his arm in that of the other, began to help him toward the fort. When they came within hailing distance, Roger Toothtaker, whom I had sent, called:
“Ho, Captain, ’tis none other than our old comrade, George Burroughs, who was left for dead at St. Johns.”
“Aye, Captain,” said Burroughs, faintly, “that’s who I am.”
Surprised as I was to see Burroughs, I had him taken to my own apartments. He recovered a little when I gave him some rum, and I left him with some of his townsmen, while I went to see that the sentinels were properly posted. Ere I had finished my rounds I was recalled by an urgent message from him. He was sitting up when I came to him, and it seemed to me as if he had not long to live.
“Look to your fort, Captain,” his first words were, “within a week these woods will be filled with the painted and bedecked imps of Satan, led on by the French, as cruel as themselves. And the sea beyond will float three sloops of war bearing the French ensign.”