Wenlock felt much pleased at meeting his old friends, and was amply employed, for some time, in obtaining accommodation for them. Every day vessels were arriving with passengers and cargoes, but not one of them brought any account of the Concord. His Dutch friends, however, did their utmost to console Wenlock. He thanked them, but yet found his thoughts more than ever going back to Mary. He would have been well-pleased if Ford had kept out of his way, but that person managed to introduce himself to the Van Erks, and he felt sure he was meditating mischief of some sort. The governor then proposed that he should go on a mission on state affairs to Boston, hoping that the change of life and scene might benefit him. Wenlock having received his instructions, accordingly went on board the Amity, which vessel, having been thoroughly repaired, was engaged for the purpose.
“But I cannot part from you,” exclaimed old Bill Rullock. “I did not think to go to sea again, but if the captain will let me work my passage there and back, I will go along with you.”
No arguments would induce the old man to give up his purpose, and Wenlock was not sorry to have so faithful a companion. Rounding Cape May, the Amity sailed along the shores of New Jersey, steering to the north, keeping in sight of land till she came off Long Island, forming one side of the magnificent harbour of the New York Bay. Then she stood on, through Massachusetts Bay till the long established city of Boston was reached. Wenlock had expected to meet with kindness and sympathy from the descendants of those who had been driven for conscience’ sake to seek a home in the New World. However, even by those to whom he had letters he was received with coldness, and he heard remarks made about Quakers generally, and himself especially, which somewhat tried his temper. His name, too, seemed especially to excite anger among the citizens. At length he was summoned to appear before the governor of the state.
“Know you not, young man, that we allow no persons of your persuasion to remain in our state?” exclaimed the governor. “There was one, of your name too, banished not long since; and some who have ventured to return, have of necessity been put to death, as breakers of the law and rebels against the state.”
“Verily, I knew not that such was the case,” answered Wenlock; “and when I have performed my business here, I am ready to take my departure. I have never been here before, and truly I should be glad to hear of one of my name, hoping that he might prove a relative; for at present I know not any one to whom I am kith and kin.”
“Stand aside, young man, and bring forth the prisoner, with whose trial we will proceed,” exclaimed the governor, casting a frowning glance at Wenlock.
The governor was proceeding to condemn the prisoner, when a loud voice was heard, exclaiming, “Pronounce not judgment.” Wenlock started, and looked towards the speaker. He almost fancied that he saw his father standing before him.
“Who are you, who thus dares to interrupt the court?” exclaimed the governor.
“I am Wenlock Christison,” was the answer. “I come to prevent you from condemning the innocent.”
“Then thou art my uncle!” exclaimed Wenlock, hurrying towards him. “I know thee by thy likeness to my father.”