Sufficient to say that I was a soldier by trade, and one of fortune, by necessity, and that I sought service in their Majesties’ American Colonies. I had left London eight weeks ago, bearing letters to Governor Phips, from old comrades in arms, some of whom had sailed the seas with him. Arriving in Boston I had put up at the inn, and had sought an audience with His Excellency, which interview was just over, with the ending I have described.
When I was ushered into the presence of Sir William I explained in few words why I came, and what I wanted. He extended his hand for my letters, and, when he had them, he gave me no more heed for a time, but read the missives. I watched his face as he scanned the pages, the while he kept up a running fire of comments.
“Ha! Tyler Anderson,” he said, “I know him well. He has a steady hand, and can use a cutlass famously. Sir Arthur Kent, too; a sly rascal with the women. Bob Frenchard; he never could get enough of fighting. John Powell; little Nat Edwards, also. Why, man, you might have all Boston as far as I am concerned, with these letters. You are very welcome, Captain. Now what can I do for you?”
“Much,” I answered, surprised and pleased at his welcome; and then I told him what I desired; a soldier’s chance to mend his fortunes.
“How would a Captain’s commission, on this side of the water, suit you?” he asked, when I had finished. “You tell me that was your rank before.”
“I would desire nothing better,” I said warmly.
“It is yours, then,” was the reply, and he drew out a parchment, partially covered with writing.
“You probably have heard of the activity of the French and Indian enemy on our borders,” said the Governor, while he prepared a quill. “We are about to proceed against them. You have come at a time when certain currents are like to drift you just where you want to go; into the thick of the fight.” Then he opened his ink horn.
I listened for a while to the scratching of his quill. It was some time before he had finished, and, looking up he handed a folded parchment across the table to me.
“There is your commission, Captain,” he said, rising. “As for your instructions, they are, in brief, these. You are to ride to Salem town, and enlist a company of one hundred men. Drill them well, against the time when we shall unite, and smite the French Philistine and his Indian allies, with fire and with sword. We will rake them fore and aft. An expedition against Canada is timed for this season next year. I hope it will be more successful than the one I led two years ago, for indeed that was a grievous failure, though, of a truth, it was against heavy odds.”