the heavy oaken door swung on its rusty iron hinges with many a squeak. i stood up, half dazzled by the sudden inrush of light. this time it was the sheriff and his constables to greet me, together with a half score of guards to block the way. ere i could make a move, had i desired to, i was overwhelmed by the men who crowded about me, while two of them quickly passed a rope around my chest, binding my arms fast to my sides. as i stood thus, the sheriff drew from his jacket a document with its dangling seal. was i never to have an end of parchment, i thought.
“whereas, you, captain edward amherst”--he began.
“enough,” i interrupted. “it suffices that i must die. let it be, if it must, i pray, without having to listen to more words. i’m not afraid, though it is a mean end for one who has served his king and his country ever faithfully. if i could but stand before you--aye, before you all--with my good sword in hand, i would have a different answer for you. nor would i deem the odds too 162great. such a death, borne down by weight of numbers, might be counted an honor by a soldier. but a dangling rope, in the hands of country bumpkins----”
“ha, a rope,” repeated the sheriff. “you have not heard, then?”
“what!” i cried. “has the judge allowed me to be shot?”
“nay; not that, master captain,” answered the sheriff. “you will see in good time, though. meanwhile the law must take its course, and i am constrained, by it, to read this death warrant.”
“have i not had enough of warrants of late?” i asked, but he paid no heed to me, and proceeded to read the dull legal terms.
meanwhile many thoughts filled my mind. if i was not to be hanged, perhaps the awful torture of being burned at the stake awaited me. if so, i must make new plans, and act quickly.
all the while the sheriff was reading from the parchment. he stumbled over the law terms, and the latin vexed him sorely. then he came to the decree that i must die “peine forte et dure,” and, as i had small stock of latin, i wondered what i was to meet with.
at length there was an end to the reading. the guards advanced. i saw, among them, several who had served under me, yet never a one gave me a glance that was not tempered with fear or distrust. some of them began to 163pull the rope tight about my arms, and this act quickened me to take some steps for escape.
so i pretended that the cords cut into my flesh, and my sudden start, as if in pain, caused them to cease their efforts, leaving me a little room to move my muscles, which was what i wanted. when i had the chance i strained at the ropes, and i felt them stretch a trifle. i knew then, that the matter of bursting my bonds was a thing somewhat within my power.
but that was the smallest part of the problem. i was a long way from freedom yet.
on that morning it seemed as if the sun had never shone so brightly, nor had the sky been so blue, nor the birds so sweetly tuneful. i do not know why i noticed such things, for it was not usual to me. perhaps the shadow of death made the brightness of life seem greater.
they started off at a brisk pace, with me in the centre of the throng, and one man holding the ropes that passed about my arms. as we reached the foot of witch hill i looked up the slope, expecting to see the grim gallows crowning the summit. then i recalled the sheriff’s words that none was to be provided. a murmur swelled upward from the crowd, and the people pushed this way and that, trying to get a view of me, as i have seen country boys do at a london fair.
we came, at last, to the place set for the execution. the crowd parted, and moved back, at the orders of the 164sheriff, forming a living circle. then, for the first time, i saw the machine of death.
for a time i could not fathom its nature. it was of wood, the uprights and cross pieces being of heavy oaken beams. there were four posts, or uprights, and, on these appeared to slide, like the wooden covering on the hay ricks in the fields, a flat bed of hewn boards, as large, perhaps, as the top of the table at the inn. out of this bed extended a long pole, threaded round and round with a screw thread. this screw passed through one of the cross pieces above. a long handle, extending either way through the spiral post, out beyond the machine, completed the instrument.
like a flash in the pan, the truth came upon me.
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 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.
165it 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 166to 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.
the sheriff stepped back, all unaware of the good office his sword had done for me. at a sign from him, two men, stronger than those who had been at the cross-bar, emerged from the crowd, and took their places to twist down on the big screw. they stripped off their upper garments, and i saw the play of their muscles beneath the skin, like little waves on a stream.
my eyes could not take in all of the scene, of which i was the centre, but i caught a glimpse of sir george moving 167about. once he looked full at me, twirling his moustache with one hand, while the other rested on his sword hilt. seeing me watching him, he came a little nearer and called out softly in french:
“what think you now, monsieur captain? wilt wed lucille?” and his voice was mocking.
“come, my lord,” i answered, banteringly, “accept her love from me. i know you have none for yourself.”
his face turned black, and there came a gleam into his eyes.
“give her my truest love, i pray you; when you find her,” i added, as a sort of afterthought.
“find her? what mean you?” he asked eagerly. “know you whither she----?”
then he stopped, biting his lips in confusion, for he feared he had betrayed himself. my heart gave a bound at that, for, though i knew naught of lucille, my words having been spoken by chance, yet it seemed she had gone away.
if she had, it meant that she cared little for her wifely duties, and that sir george had not succeeded in winning back her affection, if, indeed, he had ever had it.
but even that was like to avail me little now, unless i could escape.
a great stillness came over the crowd. scarce a sound was heard, and even the notes of the birds seemed hushed. 168i waited, breathless, almost. then, from out of the centre of silence, came a voice.
“turn!” cried the sheriff.
“turn!” echoed sir george.
then the heavy planks above me, forced down by the movement of the screw, began descending. slowly, as do bearers at the bier of death, the men walked around and around, pushing, with their breasts, against the cross-bar.
nearer and nearer came the weight that was soon to crush me. i must act with speed now. i would give them time to make one more turn, i thought. there. it was made.
now the time had come!
i commended my soul to god, as did samson in the days of old, when he pulled the great pillars of the temple from their base. i strained at my rope bonds. the half cut cords held for a moment, and they bit into my flesh when i pulled on them, weak as i had deemed them. again i put my strength into my muscles, until the blood seemed like to spurt from my finger tips.
suddenly the bonds gave, bursting with a sound like a pistol with a little load in it, and my arms were free. there was a great shout from the multitude.
“the strength of goliath is in him!” cried an old man in the front rank. “satan is beside him, witch that he is, giving him the great power.”
“i pressed upwards with my arms against the boards.“
the men at the ends of the bar had not stopped. the 169planks were coming nearer to my chest. i raised my hands and grasped the edges of the descending platform of wood above me. i drew up my knees, so that they, also, touched the planks.
i was now in the position of one lying on his back, holding up a weight that rested on his uplifted hands and bended knees. the men turning, noting my movements, had paused a moment, but, at a word from the sheriff, they pushed the harder.
down came the planks, farther, but more slowly. then i did that which i count as the greatest feat of strength i ever did.
i pressed upward with my arms, and as the wood above me still came down, i could feel it nip my knees. the bones in my legs were of solid stuff, and i knew they could stand much pressure. the course of the descending platform was now stayed, and the men at the heavy press tugged and pushed at the cross-bar, without avail, for nearly a minute.
“push harder!” cried sir george, stepping out from the crowd. “are you babes, to let him prevail against you? have you no strength?”
thus urged, the sturdy men braced their feet in the earth, and bore hard against the bar. i summoned what i thought must be all my energy, and pressed upward with my arms against the boards. i could hear a small cracking sound, as when a tree in the forest feels the axes that have 170eaten into its heart, and it begins to sway earthward. the men at the bar were joined by others, and they pushed with all their might, but could not stir the screw.
i shut my eyes, breathed the name of lucille--aye, though i had no right--and then, with an effort that brought beads of water to my brow, i pushed upward--upward--upward.
never before nor since had i known such power as i possessed then. the veins on my arms were like to burst, and stood out under the skin as do welts on a lashed horse. my muscles seemed as if they would tear from their fastenings. my hands had no feeling; my knees were numb. round went my head dizzily, and it was as if the world was dropping away from beneath me. all about was blackness, and i could not see the weight that was crushing me.
i heard the shouts of the sheriff and sir george, urging the men at the bar to turn, and the men strove mightily. the cross piece trembled with their efforts.
i had scarce another bit of strength left, but still i would not let them get the mastery, and i kept pushing upward. the darkness left me, in its place a great light seeming to shine.
“lord of hosts,” i prayed, “let me be the victor.”
i felt the solid planks give. they cracked and splintered, a little at first, as when a wedge first cleaves an entrance. i could not breathe. but, with fiercely beating heart, i heard the sound of rending wood, and it mingled 171in my ears with the roar of the blood surging through my head. my knees seemed crushed. my arms like two stone pillars.
then, while all the crowd looked on in wonder, i did that, which, though i boast not of, no other man in the colony could have done and lived after.
i broke the ponderous planks across the middle, as a boy might splinter a shingle across his knee.
right through they cracked, where the big wooden screw was set in, and so heavy was the strain i had put upon them, the pieces flew high in the air.
a great peace came over me, and i sank back on the rough wooden bed. i knew naught, save that i heard a loud shout go up, and many murmurs were heard on all sides.
suddenly it was dark again, and my ears were filled with the noise of the sea dashing on the rocks. but above that i heard the people cry:
“he has broken the press with his witch strength! saw ever man the like?”
