NEARING THE VERGE.
At times there come, as come there ought,
Grave moments of sedater thought.
When fortune frowns, nor lends our night
One gleam of her inconstant light:
And hope, that decks the peasant's bower,
Shines like the rainbow through the shower.
--CUNNINGHAM.
Robert Stevens was warmly greeted by his mother and sister on his return from Massachusetts. He had grown to a handsome young man, whose daring blue eye and bold, honest face seemed born to defy tyrants. Rebecca, his sister, was a beautiful maiden, just budding into womanhood. She possessed her father's quiet, gentle, modest demeanor with her mother's beauty. Her great dark eyes were softer than her mother's, and her face and contour were perfections of beauty.
"How glad I am to see you! Oh, how you have grown!" were among the exclamations of his mother.
Robert noticed a great change in her. She was no longer the proud-spirited being of old. Even when assailed by poverty, she was not crushed and humiliated. Nothing was said of Mr. Price, though he was uppermost in the minds of all. The stepfather was not present; but Robert thought:
"I shall meet him, and the meeting will come soon enough."
When the house was reached he had almost forgotten him. His mother's pale face and wasted form were indications of poor health; but she smiled once more, and he hoped to see the bloom return to the still youthful cheek.
It was early when he disembarked, and Mr. Hugh Price, the royalist, had gone with Governor Berkeley on a fox chase. He returned late that night, and Robert did not see him until next morning. The greeting between Robert and the man whom he heartily despised was formal and cool.
The cavalier was, as usual, dressed with scrupulous care, and, in lace ruffles and silk, sought to conceal his coarse, beastly nature. His fat face and pursed lips, with his bottle nose, all bore evidence of high living and indulgence in the wine cup. The family assembled at the breakfast table and sat in silence through the meal. When it was over, Mr. Price said:
"Robert, I want to see you in my study."
His "study" was a room in which were a few books and a great many implements of the chase. There were horns, whips, spurs, boar spears and guns on the wall. Mr. Price lighted his pipe and, throwing himself into his great easy chair, said:
"Sit down, Robert, I have something to say to you."
Robert closed his lips firmly, for he intuitively felt that what was coming would have something unpleasant about it. Mr. Hugh Price partially raised himself from his chair to close the door. Robert caught a momentary glance of two anxious faces at the foot of the stairs, watching them and evidently wondering how it was all going to end. Having closed the door and shut those friendly countenances out from view, Hugh Price raised his slippered feet and placed them on the stool before him, and smoked in silence. Robert had lost the little fear he had entertained in childhood for his stepfather; but he did not calculate on the cunning and treachery which in Hugh Price had taken the place of strength. He realized not the powerful weapons which Price could wield in the governor and officers of State.
"Robert, you have come back," began Mr. Price, slowly and deliberately, as if he wished to impress what he was about to say more fully on his hearer. "I have some words of advice to offer, and I trust you will profit by them. If you fail to, don't blame me."
Robert, by a respectful nod, indicated that he was listening, and Mr. Price went on:
"We have reached a period when a great civil revolution seems to be at hand. Virginia is about to be shaken by an earthquake, to writhe under intestine wars, and it may be necessary for you to take sides. I warn you to have a care which side you choose, for a mistake means death. You had better know something of the condition of the country before you make your choice."
"I assure you that I am willing to learn all I can of Virginia," Robert answered.
"Very well spoken. I hope that you have eradicated from your mind all those fallacious and treasonable ideas of republicanism. The failure of the commonwealth in England ought to convince any one that republicanism can never succeed."
Robert was silent. So deeply had republicanism been engrafted in his soul that he might as well attempt to tear out his heart, as to think of uprooting it. His meeting with General Goffe and his love for Ester had more strongly cemented his love for liberty; but Robert held his peace, and the stepfather went on.
"Virginia is ruled by a governor and sixteen councillors, commissioned by his majesty, and a grand assembly, consisting of two burgesses from each county, meets annually, which levies taxes, hears appeals and passes laws of all descriptions, which are sent to the lord chancellor for his approval, as in accordance with the laws of the realm. We now have forty thousand people in Virginia, of whom six thousand are white servants and two thousand negro slaves. Since 1619, only three ship-loads of negroes have been brought here, yet by natural increase the negroes have grown a hundredfold."
The cavalier, who delighted in long morning talks over his pipe, paused a moment to rest, and Robert sat wondering what all this could have to do with him. After a moment, Hugh Price resumed:
"The freemen of Virginia number more than eight thousand horse, and are bound to muster monthly in every county, to be ready for the Indians; but the Indians are absolutely subjugated, so there need be no fear of them. There are five forts in Virginia, mounted with thirty cannon, two on James River, and one each on the other three rivers of York, Rappahannock, and Potomac; but we have neither skill nor ability to maintain them. We have a large foreign commerce. Nearly eighty ships every year come out from England and Ireland, and a few ketches from New England, in defiance of the navigation laws, which the people of New England seem more willing to break than are the people of Virginia. We build neither small nor great vessels here, for we are most obedient to all laws, whilst the New England men break them with impunity and trade at any place to which their interests lead them."
"The New England people are prosperous and God-fearing," Robert ventured to put in.
"Yea; but do they not harbor outlaws and regicides. Do not Whalley and Goffe find in that country aiders and abettors in their criminal proceeding?"
"The New Englanders are friendly to the education of the masses."
At this, Hugh Price for an instant lost control of his passion. His master, Sir William Berkeley, in a memorial to parliament, had just said:
"I thank God that there are no free schools, nor printing, and I hope we shall not have them these hundred years; for learning has brought disobedience into the world, and printing has divulged them, and libels against the best governments. God keep us from both!"
Virginia was the last province to submit to the commonwealth and first to declare for the returned monarch, and the royalists residing in Virginia despised what the common people insisted in calling freedom. The commonwealth had driven many excellent royalists from England to Virginia, and while Hugh Price seeks to smother his anger in clouds of tobacco smoke, we will make a quotation from John Esten Cooke's "Virginia" in regard to some of them:
"The character of the king's men who came over during the commonwealth period has been a subject of much discussion. They have been called even by Virginia writers as we have seen, 'butterflies of aristocracy,' who had no influence in affairs or in giving its coloring to Virginia society. The facts entirely contradict the view. They and their descendants were the leaders in public affairs, and exercised a controlling influence upon the community. Washington was the greatgrandson of a royalist, who took refuge in Virginia during the commonwealth. George Mason was the descendant of a colonel, who fought for Charles II. Edmond Pendleton was of royalist origin, and lived and died a most uncompromising churchman. Richard Henry Lee, who moved the Declaration, was of the family of Richard Lee, who had gone to invite Charles II. to Virginia. Peyton and Edmund Randolph, president of the First Congress, and attorney-general were of the old royalist family. Archibald Cary, who threatened to stab Patrick Henry if he were made dictator, was a relative of Lord Falkland and heir apparent at his death to the barony of Hunsdon. Madison and Monroe were descended from the royalist families--the first from a refugee of 1653, the last from a captain in the army of Charles I., and Patrick Henry and Thomas Jefferson, afterward the leaders of democratic opinion, were of church and king blood, since the father of Henry was a loyal officer who 'drank the king's health at the head of his regiment'; and the mothers of both were Church of England women, descended from royalist families."
With this brief digression, we will return to Hugh Price, who, having smoked himself into a calmer state, turned his eyes upon his wife's son with a look designed to be compassionate and said:
"Robert, it is the great love I bear you, which causes my anxiety about your welfare. I trust that your recent sojourn in New England hath not established the seeds of republicanism and Puritanism in your heart. I trust that any fallacious ideas you may have formed during your absence will become, in the light of reason, eradicated."
"He who is not susceptible of reason is unworthy of being called a reasonable being," Robert answered.
"I am glad to hear you say as much. Now permit me to return to the original subject. Virginia is on the verge of a political irruption, and your arrival may be most opportune or unfortunate."
"I hardly comprehend you."
"There is some dissatisfaction with Governor Berkeley's course with the Indians. Some unreasonable people think that he should prosecute the war against them more vigorously."
"Why does he not?"
"He has good reasons."
"What are they?"
"He has dealings with the Indians in which there are many great fortunes involved. To go to war with them would be sure to lose him and his friends these profits. I am one concerned in these speculations, and it would be a grievous wrong to me were the war prosecuted."
Robert knew something of the savage outrages in Virginia. He had learned of them while on shipboard, and he had some difficulty in restraining his rising indignation, so it was with considerable warmth that he answered:
"Do you think your gains of more value than the human lives sacrificed on the frontier?"
"Such talk is treason," cried Price. "It sounds not unlike Bacon, Cheeseman, Lawrence and Drummond. Have you seen them since your return?"
"I have not, nor did I ever hear of the man Bacon before."
"Have a care! You would do well to avoid Drummond, Cheeseman and Lawrence."
"Why?"
"They are suspected of republicanism. Have naught to do with them."
Some people are so constituted that to refuse them a thing increases their desire for it. Robert would no doubt have gone to hunt up his former friends and rescuers even had not his stepfather forbidden his doing so, but now that Price prohibited his having anything to do with them, he was doubly determined to meet them and learn what they had to say about the threatened trouble.
His mother and sister were waiting in the room below with anxiously beating hearts to know the result of the conference. Sighs of relief escaped both, when they were assured that the meeting had been peaceful.
"Hold your peace, my son," plead the mother, "and do naught to bring more distress upon your poor mother."
Robert realized that a great crisis was coming which would try his soul. He had never broken his word with his mother, and for fear that his conscience might conflict with any promise, he resolved to make none, so he evaded her, by saying:
"Mother, there is no need for apprehension. We are in no danger."
"But your stepfather and you?"
"We have had no new quarrel."
He was about to excuse himself and take a stroll about Jamestown, when he saw a short, stout little fellow, resembling an apple dumpling mounted on two legs, entering the door. Though years had passed since he had seen that form, he knew him at sight. Giles Peram, the traitor and informer, had grown plumper, and his round face seemed more silly. His little eyes had sunk deeper into his fat cheeks, and his lips were puckered as if to whistle. He was attired as a cavalier, with a scarlet laced coat, a waistcoat of yellow velvet and knee breeches of the cavalier, with silk stockings.
"Good day, good people," he said, squeezing his fat little hands together. "I hope you will excuse this visit, for I--I--heard that the brother of my--of the pretty maid had come home, and hastened to congratulate him."
Robert gazed for a moment on the contemptible little fellow, the chief cause of his arrest and banishment and, turning to his mother, asked:
"Do you allow him to come here?"
"We must," she whispered.
"Why?"
"Hush, son; you don't understand it all. I will explain it to you soon."
"You may; but I think I shall change matters, if he is to be a visitor."
"He is the governor's secretary."
"I care not if he be governor himself; he has no business here."
The little fellow, whose face had grown alternately white and purple, stood squeezing his palms and ejaculating:
"Oh, dear me!--oh, dear!--this is very extraordinary--what can this mean?"
"Why do you dare enter this house?" demanded Robert, fiercely.
"Oh, dear, I don't know--I am only a small fellow, you know."
At this moment Mrs. Price and her daughter interposed and begged Robert, for the peace of the family, to make no further remonstrance. He was informed that Giles Peram was the favorite of the governor and Hugh Price, and to insult him would be insulting those high functionaries.
"Why is he here? Whom does he come to see?"
"Perhaps it is Mr. Price!" the mother stammered, casting a glance at Peram, who quickly answered:
"Yes--yes, it is Mr. Price. Will you show me up to him? I have a very important message from the governor."
He was trembling in every limb, for he expected to be hurled from the house.
Robert went into the street in a sort of maze.
He felt a strange foreboding that all was not right, and that Giles Peram had some deep scheme on foot.
"I will kill the knave, if the governor should hang me for it the next moment," he said in a fit of anger.
It was not long before Robert was at the house of Mr. Lawrence, where he met his friends Drummond and Cheeseman. The three were engaged in a close consultation as if discussing a matter of vital importance. They did not at first recognize Robert, who had grown to manhood; but as soon as he made himself known, they welcomed him back among them, and warm-hearted Cheeseman said:
"I know full well you can be relied upon in this great crisis."
"What is the crisis?" Robert asked.
"We seem on the verge of some sort of a revolution. Virginia welcomed Charles II. and Governor Berkeley as the frogs welcomed the stork, and they, stork like, have begun devouring us."
"I have heard something of the grievances of the people of Virginia; but I do not know all of them. What leads up to this revolution?"
Mr. Drummond answered:
"The two main grievances are the English navigation acts and the grant of authority to the English noblemen to sell land titles and manage other matters in Virginia. Why, the king hath actually given to Lord Culpepper, a cunning and covetous member of the commission, for trade and plantations, and the earl of Arlington, a heartless spendthrift, 'all the dominion of land and water called Virginia, for the term of thirty-one years.' We are permitted by the trade laws to trade only with England in English ships, manned by Englishmen."
"Is it such a great grievance to the people?"
"It is foolish and injurious to the government as well as to ourselves. The system cripples the colony, and, by discouraging production, decreases the English revenue. To profit from Virginia they grind down Virginia. Instead of friends, as we expected, on the restoration, we are beset by enemies, who seize us by the throat and cry: 'Pay that thou owest!'"
"To these grievances are added the confinement of suffrage to freeholders, which hath disfranchised a large number of persons," put in Mr. Drummond.
"Also the failure of the governor to protect the frontier from the Indians," added Mr. Cheeseman. "These heathen have begun to threaten the colony."
"What cause have they for taking up the hatchet?" asked Robert. Mr. Cheeseman answered:
"Their jealousy was aroused by an expedition made by Captain Henry Batte beyond the mountains. Last summer there was a fight with some of the Indians. A party of Doegs attacked the frontier in Staffard and committed outrages, and were pursued into Maryland by a company of Virginians under Major John Washington. They stood at bay in an old palisaded fort. Six Indians were killed while bringing a flag of truce. The governor said that even though they had slain his nearest relatives, had they come to treat with him he would have treated with them. The Indian depredations have been on the increase until the frontier is unsafe, and this spring, when five hundred men were ready to march against the heathen, Governor Berkeley disbanded them, saying the frontier forts were sufficient protection for the people."
"Are they?" asked Robert.
"No."
"Then why does he not send an army against them?"
"He is engaged in trafficking with the heathen and fears that he may lose, financially, by a war."
"Is gain in traffic of more consequence than human life?"
"With him, it is."
Robert was a lover of humanity, and in a moment he had taken sides. He was a republican and his fate was cast with Bacon, even before he had seen this remarkable man.
THE SWORD OF DEFENCE.
He stood--some dread was on his face,
Soon hatred settled in its place:
It rose not with the reddening flush
Of transient anger's hasty blush,
But pale as marble o'er the tomb,
Whose ghastly whiteness aids its gloom.
--BYRON.
Robert Stevens returned home, his mind filled with strange, wild thoughts. It was a lovely evening in early spring. The moon, round and full, rose from out its watery bed and shed a soft, refulgent glow on this most delightful of all climes. Below was the bay, on which floated many barks, and among them the vessel which had so recently brought him from Boston. The little town lay quiet and peaceful on the hill where his grandfather and Captain John Smith sixty years ago had planted it. Beyond were the dark forests, gloomy and forbidding, as if they concealed many foes of the white men; but those woods were not all dark and forbidding. From them issued the sweet perfumes of wild flowers and the songs of night birds, such as are known in Virginia.
Young Stevens was in no mood to be impressed by the surrounding scenery. He was repeating under his breath:
"Tyranny! tyranny! tyranny!"
Robert loved freedom as dearly as he loved Ester Goffe, and one was as necessary to his existence as the other. Now, on his return to the land of his nativity, he found the ruler, once so mild and popular, grown to a tyrant.
"His office is for life," sighed Robert. "And too much power hath made him mad."
Reaching the house, he heard voices in the front room and among them that of his sister. She was greatly agitated, and he heard her saying:
"No, no, Mr. Peram. I--don't understand you."
"Not understand me? I love you, sweet maid. Do I not make myself plain?"
"No, no; do not talk that way; pray do not."
"But you must promise, sweet maid, to wed me. I adore you."
At this the scoundrel caught her hand, and Rebecca uttered a scream of terror. Her brother waited to hear no more, but leaped boldly into the room and, seizing Mr. Giles Peram by the collar of his coat and the waistband of his costly knee-breeches, held him at arm's length, and began applying first one and then another pedal extremity to his anatomy.
Mr. Peram squirmed and howled:
"Oh, dear! Oh, let me go! This is very extraordinary!" his small eyes growing dim and his fat cheeks pale.
"You knave! How dare you thus annoy my sister?" cried Robert, still kicking the rascal. At last he led him to the door and flung him down the front steps, where he fell in a heap on the ground with such force, that one might have thought his neck was broken. Robert turned to his sister and asked:
"Where is mother?"
"She hath gone with her husband to Greensprings."
"And left you alone?"
"It was thought you would come."
Robert Stevens felt guilty of neglect in lingering too long in the company of men whom Berkeley would regard as conspirators; but he immediately excused himself on the ground that he had had no knowledge of the intended departure of his mother, or that his sister would be left alone.
"Have you suffered annoyances from him before?"
"Yes."
"Does mother know of it?"
"She does."
"And makes no effort to protect you?"
[Illustration: HE FLUNG HIM DOWN THE FRONT STEPS, WHERE HE FELL IN A HEAP ON THE GROUND.]
"She does all she can; but--but Mr. Price sanctions the marriage."
"I think I understand why you were left," said Robert, bitterly; "but I will protect you, never fear. That disgusting pigmy of humanity, that silly idiot and false swearer shall not harm you. I will take you to uncle's."
"Alas, he is dead. He was appointed governor to Carolinia and died."
"But our father's sister will give you a home, if the persecution becomes too hard for you to endure."
With such assurances, he consoled her as only a stout, brave brother can, and to win her mind from the subject that tormented her most, he told her of Ester Goffe and their betrothal, with a few of his wild adventures in New England, where, at this time, King Philip's war was raging with relentless fury.
Then his sister retired, and he sought repose. Next morning his mother was at breakfast; but Hugh Price was absent. He asked no questions about him. Nothing was said of the summary manner in which he had disposed of Mr. Peram, and it was a week before he saw his sister's unwelcome suitor.
The little fellow was standing on a platform making a speech to some sailors and idlers. The harangue was silly, as all his speeches were.
"If the king wants brave soldiers to cope with these rebels, let him send me to command them. Fain would I lead an army against the vagabonds."
At this, some wag in the crowd made a remark about the diminutive size of the speaker, and the ludicrous figure he would cut as a general, at which he became enraged and cried:
"Begone, knave! Do you think I talk to fools? Nay, I speak sense."
"Which is very extraordinary," put in the wag. This so exasperated the orator, that he fumed and raged about the platform and, not taking heed which way he went, tumbled backward off the stage, which brought his harangue to an inglorious close.
Shouts of laughter went up from the assembled group at his mishap, and the orator retired in disgust.
Robert Stevens was more amused than any other person at the manner in which Giles Peram had terminated his speech. He went home and told his sister, who laughed as much as he did.
That night, near midnight, Robert was awakened from a sound sleep by some one tapping on his window lattice. He rose, at first hardly able to believe his senses; but the moon was shining quite brightly, and he distinctly saw the outline of a man standing outside his window, and there came a tapping unquestionably intended to wake him.
"Who are you?" he asked, going to the window.
"I am Drummond," was the answer, and he now recognized his father's friend standing on the rounds of a ladder which he had placed against the house at the side of his window. On the ground below were two more men, whom he recognized as Mr. Cheeseman and the thoughtful Mr. Lawrence.
"What will you, Mr. Drummond?"
"Come forth; we have something to say to you. Dress for a journey and bring what weapons you have, as you may need them."
Robert hurriedly dressed and buckled on a breastplate and sword with a brace of pistols. He had a very fine rifle, which he brought away with him, as well as a supply of flints, a horn full of powder to the very throat, and plenty of bullets. With these, he crept from the house and joined the three men under the tree. Mr. Drummond said:
"The Indians have again risen in their fury, and attacked the frontier, killing many, and have carried some of your kinspeople away captives."
Robert was roused. He was in a frenzy and vowed that if no one else would go, he would himself pursue the savages and rescue his relatives.
"You will have aid," assured Mr. Drummond. "The people are enraged at the carelessness of the governor, and if they can secure a leader, they will go and punish the Indians."
"Leader or no leader, I shall go to the rescue of my relatives. My father's sister and children are captives; think you I would remain at home for lack of a leader?"
"We will find one in Nathaniel Bacon."
"Who is he?" asked Robert, as if he still feared the willingness or ability of the proposed leader to conduct the crusade against the savages. Mr. Drummond answered:
"Bacon is a young man who has not yet arrived at thirty years. His family belongs to the English gentry, for he is a cousin of Lord Culpepper and married a daughter of Sir John Duke. He run out his patrimony in England and hath, by his liberality, exhausted the most of what he brought to Virginia. He came here four years ago and settled at Curies on the upper James River. His uncle, who lives in Virginia, was a member of the king's council. He is Nathaniel Bacon, senior, a very rich politic man and childless, who designs his nephew, Nathaniel Bacon, junior, for his heir."
"Has he ability for a leader?" asked Robert.
"He hath; his abilities have been so highly recognized, that he was appointed soon after his arrival to a place in the council."
This was a position of great dignity, rarely conferred upon any but men of matured age and large estate, and Bacon was only twenty-eight, and his estate small. His personal character is seen on the face of his public career. He was impulsive and subject to fits of passion, or, as the old writers say, "of a precipitate disposition."
Bacon came near being the Virginia Cromwell. Though he never wholly redeemed his adopted country from tyranny, he put the miscreant Berkeley to flight. On that May night in 1676, Bacon was at his Curles plantation, just below the old city of Henricus, living quietly on his estate with his beautiful young wife Elizabeth. He had another estate in what is now the suburbs of the present city of Richmond, which is to-day known as "Bacon's Quarter Branch." His servants and overseers lived here, and he could easily go thither in a morning's journey on his favorite dapple gray, or by rowing seven miles around the Dutch Gap peninsula, could make the journey in his barge. When not at his upper plantation or in attendance at the council, he was living the quiet and unassuming life of a planter at Curles, where he entertained his neighbors, and being by nature a lover of the divine rights of man, he boldly denounced the trade laws, the Arlington and Culpepper grants, and the governor for his lukewarmness in defending the frontier against the Indians. Though one of the gentry, who had it in his power to become a favorite, the manifest tyranny of Governor Berkeley so shocked his sense of right and justice, that he was ready to condemn the whole system of government.
When the report came to him that the Indians were about to renew their outrages on the upper waters of the James River, Bacon flew into a rage and, tossing his arms about in a wild gesticulation, as was his manner, declared:
"If they kill any of my people, d--n my blood, I will make war on them, with or without authority, commission or no commission."
The hour was not long in coming when his resolution was put to the test.
In May, 1676, two days before Robert was awakened from his midnight slumbers by Drummond, the Indians had attacked his estate at the Falls, killed his overseer and one of his servants, and were going to carry fire and hatchet through the frontier. The wild news flew from house to house. The planters and frontiersmen sprang to arms and began to form a combination against these dangerous enemies.
Governor Berkeley had refused to commission any one as commander of the forces, and the colonists were without a head. The silly old egotist who ruled Virginia declared that there was no danger from the Indians, and even while the frontiersmen were battling with them for their lives, he wrote to the home government that all trouble with the natives was happily over. When the Virginians assembled, they were without a leader.
It was on this occasion that Robert was awakened at night, as we have seen, and asked to arm himself and prepare for a journey. That midnight journey was to Curies where the planters were assembled preparatory to making a descent on the enemy, which they were long to remember. When Robert was informed of the plan, he asked for a moment's time to confer with his sister, that he might notify her of his departure.
He knew the room in which Rebecca slept, and going to her door, tapped lightly until he heard her stirring, and the voice within asked:
"Who are you?"
"It is your brother," he whispered. A moment later the pretty face of the sleepy girl, surrounded by the neat border of a night-cap, appeared, and he hastily informed her that the Indians, in ravaging the frontier, had carried away their relatives, and he was going to set out to recover them. She knew the political situation of the country and the danger of the governor's wrath; but she could not detain her brother from such a mission.
Having explained to her that he was going to recover the captives and knew not when he would return, he went hurriedly away to join his companions. A horse was ready saddled for him, and they rode nearly all the remainder of the night, and at dawn were at Curies where was found a considerable number of riflemen. As they came upon the group, Robert saw a young man with dark eyes and hair, a face that was ruddy, yet denoting nervous temperament. He was tall and graceful, and his bold, vehement spirit seemed at once to take fire, and his enthusiasm kindled a conflagration in the breasts of his hearers. He spoke of their wrongs, of their governor's avarice, who would for the sake of his traffic with the Indians sacrifice their lives. They were not assembled for vengeance, but for defence against a ruthless foe. There was no outward expression of rebellion in his speech, yet he enlarged on the grievances of the time. That speech was an ominous indication of coming events.
"Who is that man?" Robert asked.
"Nathaniel Bacon," was the answer.
This was the first time he had ever seen the man so noted in history as the great Virginia rebel, yet from the very first Robert was strangely impressed with the earnestness of the stranger.
Bacon had been chosen as commander of the Virginians, and had sent to Berkeley for his commission. The governor did not refuse the commission; but he did what practically amounted to the same, failed to send it. It was to this that Bacon was referring when Robert Stevens and his friends joined the group.
"Instead of sending the commission which I desired, he hath politely notified me that the times are troubled," Bacon said, "that the issue of my business might be dangerous, that, unhappily, my character and fortunes might become imperiled if I proceed. The commission is refused; his complimentary expressions amount to nothing; the veil is too thin to impose on us; the Indians are still ravaging the frontier. They have been furnished with firelocks and powder--by whom? By the governor in his traffic with them. If you, good housekeepers, will sustain me, I will assault the savages in their stronghold."
All, with one accord, assented and declared themselves willing to be led to the assault. Bacon was at once chosen as the commander of the army. When he learned that Robert and his friends had come from Jamestown to aid the people on the frontier, he came to welcome them to his ranks and to assure them that he appreciated their courage and humanity.
"I have relatives and friends who are captives of the Indians," Robert explained, "and I shall rescue them or perish in the effort."
"Bravo! spoken like an Englishman. We are kindling a fire which may yet consume royalty in Virginia."
Nathaniel Bacon was politic, however, and before setting out against the Indians dispatched another messenger to Jamestown for a commission as commander. The game between the man of twenty-eight and the man of seventy had begun. Both possessed violent tempers; both were proud and resolute, and the man of seventy was wholly unscrupulous. The prospects were good for a bitter warfare. The old cavalier attempted to end it by striking a sudden blow at his adversary. Bacon and his army were on their march through the forest to the seat of Indian troubles, when an emissary of the governor came in hot haste with a proclamation, denouncing Nathaniel Bacon and his deluded followers as rebels, and ordered them to disperse. If they persisted in their illegal proceedings, it would be at their peril.
Governor Berkeley could not have chosen a more effective way of crippling the expedition. The resolution of the most wealthy of the armed housekeepers were shaken. They feared a confiscation more than hanging or decapitation. One hundred and seventy of the followers of Bacon obeyed the order and abandoned the expedition.
Fifty-seven horsemen remained steadfast. Among them was Robert Stevens, who was young and reckless as his daring leader.
The Indians had entrenched themselves on a hill east of the present city of Richmond, and when the whites approached them, they as usual sent forth a flag of truce to parley with them. The men who remained with Bacon were nearly all frontiersmen who had suffered more or less from the savages.
John Whitney, a frontiersman, had had his home destroyed, and his wife and child slain by the Indians. While the parley was going on, John discovered the Indian who had slain his wife and child, and, recognizing their scalps hanging at the savage's girdle, he levelled his rifle at the savage and shot him dead.
The Indians gave utterance to yells of rage, and from the hill-top poured down a volley at the white men; but the bullets and arrows passed quite over their heads. Bacon saw that the moment for a charge had arrived, and, raising himself in his stirrups, he shouted:
"There are the devils who slew your friends and kindred. It is their lives or ours. Strike for vengeance! Charge!"
Not a man faltered. Never did husbands, fathers and brothers dash forward into battle more fearlessly. Each man thought only of his own little home exposed to the ravages of the enemy, and the whistling of balls and arrows did not deter him. The enemy were entrenched in a fort of logs. They outnumbered the Virginians ten to one; but the latter charged nobly forward, plunging into the stream which lay between them and the fort, and wading through the water shoulder deep.
"There are the enemy; storm the fort!" cried Bacon. Ever in the van, mounted on his dapple gray, where bullets flew thickest, he was here and there and everywhere, urging and encouraging the men by word and example. They needed little encouragement, for the atrocities of the Indian had fired the blood of the Virginians, until the most timid among them became brave as a lion.
Robert Stevens kept at the side of Bacon, imitating his example. Robert was mounted on an English bay, a famous fox-hunter, and accustomed to leaping barriers. Bacon knew nothing of the science of Indian warfare, even if he knew anything of war at all. Indian tactics are entirely different from civilized warfare and require a different mode to meet them; but though the hero of Virginia four years before was thoroughly ignorant of Indians, he seemed to acquire the necessary knowledge in a moment. He was the man for the occasion.
Side by side Bacon and Robert dashed at the palisade and leaped their horses over it. They emptied their rifles and fired their pistols at such close range, that the effect was murderous. Others followed, leaping down among the savages, and opened fire. When guns and pistols had belched forth their deadly contents, the more deadly sabre was drawn, and the Indians were slain without mercy.
The buildings were fired, and the four thousand pounds of powder, which the Indians had procured of the governor, were blown up. One hundred and fifty Indians were slain, while Bacon lost only three of his own party. This victory is famous in history as the "Battle of Bloody Run," so called from the fact that the blood of the Indians ran down into the stream beneath the hill. Among some of the captives taken by the Indians, Robert Stevens found his relatives and restored them to their homes and friends.
The Indians were routed and sent flying toward the mountains, and Bacon went back toward Curles.
Meanwhile Berkeley was not idle. He raised a troop of horse to pursue and conquer the rebels; but to his alarm he found the people quite outspoken and, in fact, in open rebellion in the lower tiers of counties.
When the burgesses met in June, Bacon embarked in his sloop and went to Jamestown, taking Robert Stevens and about thirty friends with him. No sooner had the sloop landed than the cannon of a ship were trained on it, and Bacon was arrested and taken to Governor Berkeley in the statehouse.
The haughty governor was somewhat awed by the turmoil and confusion which prevailed throughout Jamestown, and feared to appear stern with so popular a man as Bacon.
"Mr. Bacon, have you forgot to be a gentleman?" the governor asked.
"No, may it please your honor," Bacon answered, quite coolly.
"Then I will take your parole," said Berkeley.
Bacon was consequently paroled, though not given privilege to leave Jamestown. There was much murmuring and discontent among the people, who vowed that they had only "appealed to the sword as a defence against the bloody heathen."
THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER.
'Do you know the old man of the sea, of the sea?
Have you met with that dreadful old man?
If you haven't been caught, you will be, you will be;