He inched along the back of the jail now, finding the corner at one end while Tarbell went for the other. Their plan was to synchronize the moment each made his move. To this end, Jeremy looked around the corner. He saw no one, but he watched the ups and downs of a flaring fire that burned out front of the jail for light as much as for roasting meat. He took in the cooking odors. Imagined how the odor must affect the poorly fed prisoners who’d been here for months. He also knew that the jailers routinely butchered and fed on livestock belonging to those incarcerated to, in a manner, pay themselves for their efforts.
He moved onward to be in position when the moment came. Soon Jeremy was at the front corner of the square, unadorned mud-hole. He held his pistol to his cheek. He’d counted his steps and imagined that John Tarbell was in position by now.
Jeremy gritted his teeth and stepped out into the light. He was in luck. Gatter and Fiske were indeed enjoying a meal of mutton freshly roasted; their attention remained solely on chomping down on the cheap cut of meat— sheep hocks from what Jeremy could see. Each guard was tearing into his meal when Jeremy and John found themselves simultaneously standing back of them. In sync, the brothers-in-law let fly, using the hilts of their pistols to strike Gatter and Fiske.
Both men went down, Gatter into the fire. Jeremy, who’d struck Gatter, pulled the filthy fat man from the ashes, and seeing that he was coming to, he struck him again. The second blow put Gatter under completely. A look at Fiske, and Jeremy saw that John was tying him hand and foot with thick hemp. Jeremy pulled the rope he’d tied about his waist and did the same with Gatter.
They carefully turned them over to face away from the jail. Thus far, neither Jeremy nor Tarbell could be identified. They’d not spoken a word to this end either.
Jeremy rushed to catch up to Tarbell, now at one of the two windows forming the face of the cell. Jeremy had the keys in hand, the same keys that Rebecca had grabbed and locked inside with her that night Serena begged her to come away with them.
He fought with the keys to locate the big skeleton that opened the huge door while John whispered through the window for Serena to come to the door.
“John!” It was Serena’s voice.
“
“What’re you doing?”
“Use no names,” he cautioned her.
Jeremy flung the door wide and grabbed Serena in his arms. They held onto one another for some time until Tarbell said in their ears, “You two come along. We must be out of here, now!”
But Serena pulled away and rushed at the unconscious figure of Gatter, and with a swift kick, she bloodied his face. “Bastard!”
“Come away, Serena!” Tarbell handed her over to Jeremy.
“What’s this all about?” Jeremy stared from Gatter’s grimace to Serena.
“Not now!” Tarbell rushed off. “Follow me!”
As they left the jail door standing open, everyone inside able to gather strength began pouring from the gaping black hole. Jeremy noted that all of the escapees went away from the village lights—all save one. A woman he did not know. But busy, Jeremy guided Serena, following in John’s footsteps, back to the horses. Halfway back to the waiting animals, gunshots rang out.
The three of them instinctively ducked and hid away. Looking back through the brush, they saw the fire of muskets. Men had come to the aide of the jailers already, but how? How had they learned of the jailbreak so quickly with both Gatter and Fiske hogtied and unconscious?
Either someone had come to check on them or one of the escaping prisoners had gone directly for help, hoping to curry favor with the authorities. Jeremy realized it might well be the figure he’d seen rushing toward the village, the man or woman who’d informed on them.
If true, Serena, Jeremy, and John were in more trouble than ever; if someone knew they’d come for Serena in particular, this woman may well’ve recognized Tarbell or Jeremy or both—in which case the first place authorities would come looking was the Nurse home.
“We ride all night if necessary,” Jeremy told the other two.
“You two, yes,” replied John. “Not me. I have
“But suppose they go to your place?” Serena grabbed John by the arm. He hugged her tight.
“Go with all due caution then, John.” Jeremy pulled Serena from her brother by marriage. He guided her to her horse. She threw her arms about the horse’s head, moaning, “Oh, Star. It’s so beautiful to see you.”
“Climb on,” Jeremy insisted while he bodily lifted her into the saddle.
“Get on your way, both of you!” Tarbell urged them on. “And tell me nothing of your plans, Jeremy. I will find you in future. Now go!” He slapped Star’s rear and she raced off as Jeremy stepped into his saddle and followed. Their initial direction would send them by the Nurse home. So far as Serena knew, her father waited there, and she’d want to say goodbye.
Jeremy pushed Dancer to catch her, and soon he came alongside, slowing her speed with an upraised hand. “Serena! There is bad news you must hear.”
“Father? How is he?”
“He . . . he is with your mother now.”
She swallowed hard, tears forming. “I want to see him.”
“No, dear. His body is with your mother’s, and so seeing him is no option, and going there could lead to a discovery of the graves. We should not stop at the home at all but take the west road to the territories.”
“Connecticut?” she asked.
“Connecticut, yes. Anyone asking in Boston will be told by Mrs. Fahey, the jailor at the prison, and others, that I booked passage to Barbados. They’ll be looking for us to’ve escaped to the West Indies.”
“Clever ploy.” The West Indies typically meant a stopover en route to Europe.
Jeremy smiled at the compliment. “I only hope that it works. Buys us time. Now we must ride hard.”
“What of money for needs along the way?”
“John found a box of silver coin in your father’s room. Says it’s now your dowry.”
“I was so afraid when you didn’t come; so afraid I’d be stripped, searched by them for the Devil’s mark, excommunicated, found guilty at the court, and hung at the gallows.”
“None of which will ever happen now. I swear to you, no one is taking you from me. Ever again!”
“Ever?”
“Ever, yes.”
They rode for the western black sky ahead of them, a cloud of dust thrown up behind them. They soon passed the once proud Nurse homestead where she pulled up to stare one last time at the stand of trees out front between house and gate where her mother and father lay.
“John says in time they’ll plant flowers, put up a fence and headstones.”
“In time. You mean if this feverish witch hunt is ever at end?”
“Serena. I have it on good authority the accusers have overplayed their parts.”
“What do you mean?
“They recently accused Mrs. Hale of Beverly of the hideous crimes they uttered against your mother and now you.”
“The minister’s wife at Beverly? Madness. There is no more pious and worthy woman in all the colonies together. This persecution is pure hypocrisy! All of it!”
“An hypocrisy from the beginning, agreed!” He turned her gaze from the trees and the tables at her former home and onto his eyes. “I have talked to Mrs. Phipps, have tried to get her to get the governor to intervene, but I fear I’ve failed.”
“I’m sorry, Jeremy. I know you’ve done everything humanly possible.”
“As did your father, John Proctor, your mother in her sacrifice.”
“That filthy jailer offered me freedom if he could touch me.”
That explained her kicking Gatter as she had. “I should have allowed you another kick.”
“And to think the man was going about like a bandy rooster, telling people that Mother had converted him to Christianity.”
