“How goes the witchcraft here, Willis?” I asked. “I heard ’twas broke out again, as I came through Boston.”
“Hush,” he said, glancing around as though he feared some one would hear me. “Verily it is most horrible. The townspeople have gone mad, it seems. Scarce a day goes by that some poor woman or man is not accused of being in league with the devil, or banded with witches to work evil spells. The Colony groans under the terrors, for nearly half a score of people have been put to death after being convicted of witchcraft.
“Neighbors have denounced and testified against neighbors; fathers against sons, and daughters against their mothers.”
“Why, ’tis worse than I dreamed,” I said.
“Aye, it is bad enough,” responded Willis, glancing behind his chair, as if he expected to see a witch perched on the bed post.
“There are strange tales told,” he went on, “of how witch meetings are held on the common, and those who have been witness to them say they see the forms of their acquaintances riding athwart broomsticks or fence rails in the air.
“Let but a cow be taken sick, and straightway ’tis said that the animal is bewitched. Then the owner goes before the judges and swears some poor dame has cast an evil spell on the beast. The woman is taken and put in gaol, and little enough as the evidence is sometimes, she is condemned and hanged. Oh, I promise that you will see horrors enough if you stay here long.
“Why, no further back than six days one man was accused because he was so strong that the witch-crazed people said he must have had help from Satan to lift the weights he did. He was taken, tried and executed.”
“I am like to suffer then,” I said, laughing. “Do you recall the big stone by the brook?”
“Heaven forbid,” said Willis. “But do not laugh, Captain. It is no small matter when half the townsfolk are crazed, and the other half ready to follow where the first lead. Surely you must have noticed how distraught the people were as you came along.”