It is November 1688, and another beautiful day in Barbados. Tituba and her husband John, slaves married for 10 years who work on the estate of a widow Susanna Endicott, are told by their mistress that she has sold them both because of financial setbacks (Tituba finds out later her mistress had gambling debts). Reverend Samuel Parris, a failed New England entrepreneur who now hopes to secure work as a minister in Boston, purchased the two—they are to leave that afternoon for the Bay Colony. Mistress Endicott gifts her beloved slaves with heavy woolen clothes—she cautions them that Boston gets brutal winters.

Tituba packs their meager belongings, careful to include her thunderstone, a magic rock given to her in gratitude by an old man she cured of fever. Later that day, Tituba and John meet the Parris family at the dock: the Reverend, who leads everyone in a lengthy prayer before they board; his wife, Elizabeth, an invalid; his five-year-old daughter Betsey; and his nine-year-old niece, the orphan Abigail.

The boat trip is difficult. The rolling waves toss the tiny ship; the stench below deck is thick; and the farther north they go, the colder the air becomes. John assures Tituba stoically, “Whatever happens to the master, the slave must survive” (12).