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

by Howard Roger Garis

I was to be crushed to death!

Tied up like a bundle of faggots, and placed on the bed-plate, the boards above me, urged down by the screw turned by the long handle, would force out my life, as is the breath from a newly fledged bird, in the hand of a school boy. No wonder the Sheriff held his peace, when I asked if I was not to[to] hang. A more horrible death could scarce be devised, for the torture of the Indians hardly passed it. Yet an Englishman planned it; an Englishman was to suffer by it. Well had Sir George said I would pay for the blow I gave him.

Oh! But I longed for a few minutes, with a sword in my hand, to spend with my lord.

It was time for the next move, now that I, the chief personage in what was about to happen, had arrived. The tumult, of which there had been much, had grown less. Partly because the Sheriff had moved most of the crowd back, and partly because all desired to see and hear what would come next.

My mind had become dazed. Where now was my plan of escape? Before I knew what was going on, two stout men advanced, and, by walking in a circle, they turned the cross bar, which worked the screw, and so raised the movable bed-plate. This made a space, so that my body could be put in the press. The great affair creaked and groaned, as if in mortal agony, and I could not help shuddering, as I thought of what little chance I would have beneath the oak beams.

Then I started. It was but a faint hope that came to me, yet it was a chance to escape death. It was a desperate move, but then I was in dire straits.

At a signal from the Sheriff, half a dozen men sprang forward and seized me. They lifted me clear from the ground, and carried me like a child to the machine. Then they stretched out my legs, and thrust them beneath the bed-plate. Under went my body next, verily, as if I had been but a bag of apples in the cider press.

I was pushed along over the rough planks, and then something happened. The Sheriff, to better see that all was carried out according to his wishes, had come close to me. He even placed his hand on my shoulder, to help thrust me in.

As he did so my boot top caught his sword hilt, half drawing the steel from the scabbard, as my body went forward. The keen edge of the weapon was uppermost, and, as I was pulled and hauled to the centre of the bed, the rope which bound my arms was drawn over the sword’s sharp blade. The steel bit deep into the hemp, but not all the way through by a good way. However, as I felt the rope being cut, I knew that, by using only my ordinary strength, I could burst my bonds. I swelled my muscles only a little, and with that I felt the cords give a trifle.

All was now in readiness. I might, then, have burst the rope, slipped from the press, and tried to cut a way thorough the crowd. But I saw there were many men armed, and they looked as if anxious to see me die, so I resolved to try what I could do by another means.