I had heard of the manner in which Frontenac had scattered Phips and the English fleet sent against him, but I held my peace; for failure is no happy subject with any man. Sir William told me in few words that Admiral Sir Francis Wheeler was expected to arrive in March, with his fleet from the Caribbee Islands. Governor Phips had undertaken to raise small companies of men throughout the Colony, to act with the Admiral on his arrival. This much he told me, then, bidding me a pleasant farewell, and wishing me success, he took up his quill again, to indicate that the audience was at an end.
My encounter with the man in the doorway passed from my mind, as I descended the steps of the Town Hall, and trudged along the street, to where I had stabled my mare Kit. With busy thoughts of what might be before me I led Kit out of the door, leaped into the saddle, and was off at a round trot, in the direction a lad pointed out as leading to Salem.
Of a truth, I was away now to seek my fortune in this new land, and, I hoped, with the promise of as many adventures as ever befell a knight of old. So, over hill and across dale I rode, soon leaving behind the pleasant town and the outlying farm lands. I had not gone many miles ere the snow, which had been threatening since morning, began to fall from the dull, leaden sky, piling up on the white covering of previous storms. The flakes sifted down, lazily at first, but soon began to gather more thickly as the wind rose, so I urged the mare on by spur and voice, determined to reach Salem by night, if I could. Now the snow came down ever quicker and faster. It swirled and swished, and blew in drifts, until I was fain to stop, look about me and see where I was. I pulled the mare up as I reached the top of a little hill, and peered through the clouds of cutting flakes for some sight of the road, which, it was evident, I had lost some time ago. Kit would have turned tail to the wind, but I pressed my knees against her sides, and held her to the blast. There was little hope in going back, perhaps less in proceeding.
But I decided to continue in the hope of coming to some shelter, and I patted the mare on the neck to set her going again. She lurched forward into a drift so deep that it well nigh covered my knees as I sat in the saddle, and my boots were filled with snow through their wide, gaping tops.
“Steady, girl!” I shouted, for, indeed, less voice could scarce have been heard. We were fairly lost now, and for the last hour had been wandering back and forth across country, I knew not how far from the road. I did not see a single landmark in the stretch of whiteness, my only hope having been that I might keep the right way. Kit began to back, seeking to rid herself of the cutting wind, and I had hard work to force her to stand. Should I turn to the left, to the right, or keep straight on? The wind seemed to blow less fiercely from the south, so I swung Kit about in that direction, pulled her to the left, and urged her on.
She responded nobly, and reared, rather than stepped out of the snow bank. Her fore feet struck solid ground, and then, feeling the hard road beneath her hoofs, she pulled herself forward. We had struck the right path at last, and, after hours of fierce weather-beating, like a ship at sea, lost in a storm, we were fairly homeward bound, on the way to Salem town.
I rode on more quickly now, settling my hat firmer on my head, and pressing the leather lining against my benumbed ears. My collar scarce kept the snow and wind from my neck, and every half mile or so I was obliged to drop the reins and, after feeling that my sword had not dropped off in some snow drift, knock my hands together to bring their fingers some little warmth.
Verily, I thought that the road would never lead me to the friendly tavern of Master Samuel Willis, who, as I had heard in Boston, provided refreshment for man and beast. And surely no two stood more in need of it than Kit and myself that cold February day.
A fiercer squall and gust of wind than any that had proceeded, fairly brought the mare to a stand. I lifted my hat a bit, held my interlocked fingers before my eyes, and peered ahead. Dimly, like a speck of black on a white sheet, that a dame might spread on the grass to bleach, I saw in front a house.
“May that be the tavern,” I quoth, and, with a heart that smote me a trifle, for she had traveled far and well that day, I dug the spurs into Kit’s flanks. She leaped through the drifts, and, at length, when she could make no more progress, I found myself before the snow-heaped steps of Salem Inn.