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In the 14 sentences comprising the single page of Chapter 5, the “jeering sailors” aboard the brigantine Blessing watch as a horrified and speechless Tituba is baptized then married to John Indian.
Aboard the Boston-bound ship, Tituba befriends Elizabeth Parris—the ill, fragile, and compassionate woman who is married to Samuel Parris but feels the same horror toward him as Tituba. They have two girls—Betsey, their daughter, and Abigail Williams, an orphaned niece they adopted.
Tituba muses to herself, “How frivolous was this man my body had chosen” (40), as she observes his tomfoolery whether amidst the sailors or at confession. Her desire for him, however, subdues her concerns. Reverend Parris forces them all to participate in prayers and confessions, accusing them “venomously: ‘I know that the color of your skin is the sign of your damnation’” (41). He is equally cruel and abusive with Tituba and his wife.
Tituba uses her massage oils to nurse Elizabeth and Betsey back to health. She and Elizabeth engage in intimate conversations about sexuality—Tituba’s celebration of sensuality always triggers fear in Elizabeth. Abigail, in contrast, remains aloof. Her stare, her questions, and her strange obsession with Puritan ideas about the devil make Tituba ill, and she is constantly afraid Abigail will report back to her uncle.
Tituba first notices on their arrival in Boston that amidst “its tall houses and crowds thronging the cobblestone street” are many “faces of the same color […] children of Africa […] paying tribute to misfortune” even in America (44).
In the cold, damp house, John Indian continues with his affected behavior, which Tituba despises. Abigail remains obsessed with talk of the devil and damnation. Elizabeth’s illness worsens, and Tituba must find Boston foliage to conjure supernatural powers to save her life.
During their one-year stay in Puritan Boston, Reverend Parris fails to receive a parish. They lack food and firewood, and John Indian finds a job at a local tavern. He returns home and reports to Tituba the conditions in America—of thousands of Africans and Indians enslaved by the white men.
The unemployed reverend tortures his daughter and niece with lessons using grim references to sin and damnation that terrify Betsey and intensify Abigail’s Puritanical and satanical obsessions. Tituba takes them when out she they can, trying to retrieve their vitality. Visits to the wharf draw Tituba’s gaze across the water, and she weeps, nostalgic for her island home.
On one occasion, they pass a public hanging. Flashing back to the memory of her mother, Tituba screams. Betsey pleads with her to stop. Abigail chastises Tituba, arguing that she deserves to be hanged for being a witch.
Tituba’s only happiness comes in the passionate moments spent with John Indian. However, when she becomes pregnant, she decides to kill her child rather than bring a “baby, who will have no chance to change its fate, into a world of slavery” (50). She searches the forest for herbs to create an abortive potion and meets Judah White. The elderly woman recognizes Tituba, explains she is a friend of Mama Yaya, and teaches Tituba the names and uses of each of the herbs. Old Judah reaffirms Tituba’s childhood lessons: “Men hate us and yet without us their lives would be sad and narrow. Thanks to us they can change the present […] sometimes read the future. Thanks to us they can hope” (52). Reassured, Tituba returns home and aborts the child.
With income only from John Indian’s job, the family suffers. Chapter 7 closes with Reverend Parris reluctantly accepting a parish in Salem—a parish with a bad reputation for its treatment of two former ministers. Before they leave, Tituba takes notes from Old Judah on herbal rituals. Tituba finds them to be childish in comparison to her more noble, island practices, which rely on unseen forces.
The first half of the one-page Chapter 8 comprises the lyrics to a song that Tituba teaches Betsey—a lament for her lost child. The second half is a foreshadowing: Tituba overhears Abigail humming the song, considers scolding Betsey for not keeping it to herself, and then decides against it: “Wasn’t Abigail […] but a child? A child could not be dangerous” (55). Tituba’s thoughts are both naïve and ominous.
Chapters 5-8 depict Tituba’s time from leaving Barbados to her stay in Boston. Tituba’s marriage to John Indian aboard the ship symbolizes her voluntarily embarking on a journey into slavery. Chapter 6 opens with an image of Elizabeth Parris as a victim herself of the ongoing assault of being married to Samuel Parris. The children appear eerie, as if to declare themselves an intentional literary device, a foreshadowing of their role in the trials; already their gestures are exaggerated.
Early on, the parallel treatment of the two women—Samuel Parris is equally abusive to Tituba and his wife—depicts a world in which women, regardless of color, suffer oppression, and perhaps more so than men, regardless of color. The Puritan ideology is also at the forefront, with Samuel Parris openly correlating the color of the African skin to being evil.
Concerned for the ill health of Elizabeth and Betsey, Tituba begins healing treatments, unaware that there is a difference between the Puritan view of such practices and the African understanding. The notion of being a good witch does not exist, as this is a society in which good and bad have nothing to do with the actions one chooses.
The girls are clearly affected by their indoctrination and look upon a hanging without any emotion while insisting that Tituba calm down. Tituba realizes the gravity of the conditions to which she has allowed herself to be bound, and the decision to abort her child is in many ways a censure of the oppression of women. Her feelings for John Indian offer some insight into her passionate love for him, and her unawareness of his faults appears to be a case of selective blindness.
The scene with Judah White, like the spirit trio scenes, serves as a reminder to the reader that this is a fictitious tale. Equally, Tituba’s mix of nervous energy and view of the children as innocent indicates a narrator who already knows the ending and is sharing some hindsight in the commentary. Chapter 8, in addition to foreshadowing, takes a satirical tone in posing a question that readers can likely already answer.