For catch you he must and he can.'
--HOLMES.
Robert Stevens and twenty others captured with Bacon were kept in prison. His mother and sisters visited him, but he saw nothing of his stepfather. One evening he was informed that a gentleman wished to see him, and immediately Mr. Giles Peram was admitted to his cell.
"How are you, Robert--ahem?" began Giles. "This is most extraordinary, I assure you, and you have my sympathy, and you may not believe it, no, you may not believe it, but I am sorry for you."
"You can spare yourself any tears on my account," the prisoner answered, casting a look of scorn and indignation on the proud little fellow who strutted before him with ill-concealed exultation. Without noticing the irony in the words of the prisoner, Giles puffed up with the importance of his mission, went on:
"Robert, I have come to you with a singular proposition. Now you are very anxious to know what it is, are you not?"
"I have some curiosity; yet I have no doubt that I shall treat your proposition with contempt."
"Oh, no, you won't. Your life depends on your acceptance."
"I can best answer you when I know what your proposition is."
"It is this. I am enamoured of your sister. She rejects my suit. Now, if she will consent to become my wife, you shall have your liberty."
It was well for Peram that Robert Stevens was chained to the wall, or it would have fared hard for the little fellow. Giles kept beyond the length of the chain and the prisoner was powerless. His only weapon was his tongue; but with that he poured out the vials of his wrath so copiously on the wretch, that he retired in disgust.
Events soon shaped themselves so as to give Robert his liberty. Through the intercession of Bacon's cousin, Nathaniel Bacon, senior, the governor consented to pardon Bacon the rebel, if he would, on his knees, read a written confession of his error and ask forgiveness. This confession was made June 5, 1676. Between the last days of May and the 5th of June, Bacon had been denounced as a rebel; had marched and defeated the savages; had stood for the burgesses and appeared at Jamestown; had been arrested and quickly paroled, and was now, on the 5th of June, to confess on his knees that he was a great offender. The old cavalier Berkeley was going to make an imposing scene of it. The governor sent the burgesses a message to attend him in the council chamber below, on public business, and when they came, he addressed them on the Indian troubles, specially denouncing the murder of the six chiefs in Maryland, though Colonel Washington, who commanded the forces on that expedition, was present. With pathetic emphasis the governor declared:
"Had they killed my grandfather and grandmother, my father and mother and all my friends, yet if they came to treat of peace, they ought to have gone in peace." Having finished this harangue, designed for the humiliation of John Washington and his followers, he rose and with grim humor said:
"If there be joy in the presence of the angels over one sinner that repenteth, there is joy now, for we have a penitent sinner come before us. Call Mr. Bacon."
Bacon came in, holding the paper in his trembling hand, and, kneeling, read his confession. It evidently grieved his lion heart to do so, for at times he faltered, and his voice, usually clear and distinct, was half smothered. When he had finished, Sir William Berkeley said:
"God forgive you; I forgive you," and three times he repeated the words.
"And all that were with him?" asked Colonel Cole, one of the council.
Hugh Price, who was present, was about to interpose some objection; but before he could say anything, Sir William Berkeley answered:
"Yes, and all that were with him." As Bacon rose from his knees, the governor took his hand and added: "Mr. Bacon, if you will live civilly but till next quarter day, but till next quarter day, I'll promise to restore you to your place there," pointing to the seat which Bacon generally occupied daring the sessions of the council.
The order to release the prisoners was at once given, and Robert Stevens was again a free man. He hastened to the home of his mother and sister, where he met his stepfather, whose conduct was so odious to the young man that he took up his abode at "the house of public entertainment kept by the wife of a certain thoughtful Mr. Lawrence." Bacon was also living here under his parole, for it was generally understood that he had not been given permission to leave the city.
One morning, just as the excitement incident to the arrest and confession of Bacon had begun to subside, a large ship entered the river and cast anchor before the town. The ship flew English colors and was a veritable floating palace. There are few crafts afloat even at this day that equal it in elegance. It had been built by the most skilful carpenters in the world at that time, and the long, tapering masts, the deck and bows were more of the modern style than ships of that day.
Her cabins were large, roomy and fitted up with more than Oriental splendor. There were Turkish carpets, and golden candelabra. Wealth, strength, ease and grace were evident in every part of the strange craft. No such vessel had ever before entered James River. The ship was well armed, and the crew thoroughly disciplined. There was a long brass cannon in the forecastle, with carronades above and below, for she was a double-decker with a row of guns above and below, and at that time such a formidable craft was able to destroy half of the English navy. The name of the vessel was not in keeping with her general appearance. In spite of the elegance and magnificence of the vessel, on her stern, in great black letters, was the awful word:
"DESPAIR."
What strange freak had induced the owner of this wonderful craft to give it such a melancholy name? Jamestown was thrown into a flutter of excitement at first, and whispered rumors went about that the vessel was a pirate. If it should prove a pirate, they knew it would be able to destroy the town and all their fleet. This story was perhaps started by some idlers, who sought to go aboard when the vessel first arrived, but were refused admittance to her deck.
Though not permitted to go aboard, those loafers had seen enough to start the report that the vessel was a gilded palace, ornamented with gold. Two days had elapsed, and no one had come ashore, nor had any visitor been admitted to the ship, and the governor, growing uneasy about the strange craft, resolved to know something of it, so he sent the sheriff to ascertain her mission.
The captain of the ship, who gave his name as George Small, answered:
"This vessel is the property of Sir Albert St. Croix, a wealthy merchant from the East Indies, who will this day visit the governor and make known the object of his visit to Jamestown."
That day, a boat fit for a king was lowered, and eight or ten sailors, richly dressed, took their places at the oars. A man, whose long white hair hung about his shoulders in snowy profusion, and whose beard, white as the swan's down, came to his breast, descended to the boat and was rowed ashore.
When he was landed, the sailors returned with the boat to the ship, leaving him on the beach. The old man was richly dressed. He blazed with jewels such as a king might envy, and the hilt of his sword was of pure gold. He wore a brace of slender pistols, whose silver-mounted butts protruded from his belt.
The dark cloak about his shoulders was Puritanic; but the elegance of his attire and the profusion of jewelry which he wore proved that he was not of that order. His low-crowned hat was three-cornered, trimmed with lace and the brim held in place by three blazing diamonds. It was something like the cocked hat, which, half a century later, was worn by most of the gentry.
After watching the boat until it returned to the vessel, the old man went toward the statehouse. He spoke to no one on the way, though he paused under a large oak about half way between the statehouse and the beach, and gazed long on the town and surrounding country.
The tree beneath which he paused was the same under whose wide spreading branches Captain John Smith had halted to take a last farewell look of Virginia, before embarking for England. The spot had already grown historic.
The people were gathered in groups on the streets gazing at the stranger, and various were the comments about him. He noticed the excitement his advent had created, and walked quickly up the street to the statehouse. Though his hair and beard were white as snow, his frame was vigorous and strong, and his step had about it the elasticity of youth. His brow was furrowed with care rather than time, and his eye seemed still to flash with the fires of young manhood. Nevertheless he was an old man. Every one who saw him on that memorable morning pronounced him a prodigy.
Arriving at the statehouse, he asked for the governor, and was at once shown to Sir William, who, gazing at him in wonder, asked:
"Whence came you, stranger?"
"From Liverpool."
"Who are you?"
"I am Sir Albert St. Croix, the owner of the good shipDespair, which lies at anchor in your bay."
"But surely you are not of England?"
"I am an Englishman; but I have spent most of my life abroad, and for many years have been in the East Indies. I amassed a fortune in diamonds and jewels and, being in the decline of life, decided to travel over the world. For that purpose, I builded me a ship to suit and engaged a crew faithful even unto death."
The governor's countenance brightened, and he answered:
"Sir Albert, I am pleased to have you in Jamestown. Your arrival is quite opportune, for I am most grievously annoyed with a threatened rebellion."
Sir Albert fixed his great blue eyes on the governor and answered:
"Sir William Berkeley, it is not my purpose to interfere with any political convulsions. I am simply a transient visitor. My home is my ship."
"But your ship is an English craft, and your crew are Englishmen?"
"That is true."
"And as governor of the province, I will command them should their services be needed."
There was a smile on the sad face of Sir Albert, as he answered:
"It would not avail you, governor, for my captain and crew know no other master save myself, no will save mine."
"But the king?"
"They serve me, and I serve the king. I helped Charles II. out of a financial strait, and, for that, an order from our dread sovereign and lord has been issued, exempting my crew, myself and my vessel from any kind of military duty for the term of fifty years."
The old man drew from his coat pocket a legal document proving his assertion.
"Have you ever been in Virginia before?" the governor asked.
"Yes, many years ago. All things have changed since then."
"How long will you stay?"
"I know not. At any moment I may decide to leave, and should I do so, I will sail at once. I linger no longer at any one place than my fancy detains me."
"What is your wish, Sir Albert?"
"I only ask the privilege of going whithersoever I please in your domain, without let or hindrance," and he produced an order from King Charles II., which commanded Governor Berkeley to grant him such privilege.
"This is strange," said the governor. "An armament such as yours might overthrow the colony at this unsettled time."
"I shall take no part in the disturbance, unless it affects me personally." The governor issued a passport for Sir Albert St. Croix, vessel and crew, and the stranger left the statehouse. He walked up the hill, passing the jail, and gazing about on the houses, as if he wished to make himself acquainted with the town. No end of comment was excited by his appearance, and a thousand conjectures were afloat as to the object of his visit.
For a moment, the white-haired stranger paused before the public house in which Bacon was at that moment reposing. Some thought he was going in; but he passed on and addressed no one, until he came to Robert Stevens, who stood at the side of a well, under a wide spreading chestnut tree.
"Will you draw me some water? for I am athirst," said the stranger.
Robert did so, and handed the stranger a drink from an earthen mug, which was kept by the town pump for the accommodation of the public. After drinking, the old man returned the mug and, fixing his eyes on the young man, asked:
"Have you lived long in Virginia?"
"I was born here, good sir."
"Then you must know all of Jamestown?"
"Not so much, good sir, as I might, if I had not passed a few years in New England."
"Your home is still here?"
With a sigh, Robert answered:
"It is, though I do not live in it now."
Robert evidently was alluding to some domestic difficulties, and the stranger very considerately avoided asking him any further questions about himself. He asked about the proprietors of several houses and gained something of the history of the town and people.
All expected that Sir Albert would return to his vessel; but he did not. Instead, he wandered over the hill into the wood and sat down upon a log. Robert saw him sitting there, with his white head bowed between his hands, looking so sad and broken-hearted, despite all his wealth, that his heart went out to him. He was for hours thus communing with nature, then came back to the town and went on board theDespair.
After that, he frequently came ashore and strolled about the town, seldom speaking, even when addressed. But for the letters from the governor and the king, he might have been arrested on suspicion. He came and went at will, occasionally pausing to ask a question which was so guarded, that no one could suspect that he was interested in any particular subject. One day, as he was passing the statehouse, Giles Peram, who, with the powdered wig, lace, and ruffles of a cavalier, was strutting before some of the court officials, turning his eyes with an ill-bred stare on the stranger as he passed, remarked:
"Oh, how extraordinary!"
Sir Albert paused and, fixing his great blue eyes on the diminutive egotist, said:
"Marry! the time of king's fools hath past; yet the king of fools still reigns."
Giles Peram felt the retort most keenly, and, as usual, raged and fumed and swore vengeance after the stranger was out of sight and hearing. Sir Albert strolled down to a pond or lake that was near to the town, on the banks of which was an ancient ducking-stool. Three or four idlers were sitting on the bank, and of one of them he asked:
"For what is that ugly machine used?"
"It is a ducking-stool for scolds," was the answer. The fellow, feeling complimented at being addressed by the celebrated stranger, went on, "Well do I remember, good sir, when and for whom the stool was constructed."
"For whom was it built?" asked Sir Albert.
"It was made for Ann Linkon, who had slandered goodwife Stevens as was, but who has, since her husband was drowned at sea, married Hugh Price, the royalist and friend of the governor. Oh, how Ann did scold and rave, and it was a merry sight to see her plunged beneath the water."
The stranger asked some questions about Ann Linkon and was informed that she had died several years before. "But to the last," the narrator resumed, "she hated Dorothe Stevens. She rejoiced when poverty assailed her, brought on by her own extravagance, after her husband had gone away. Then when goodwife Stevens received the fortune from the grandfather of her dead husband, the old Spaniard at St. Augustine, she again went among the cavaliers and was enabled to marry Hugh Price. It is not a happy life she leads now, though, for there is continual trouble between the husband and the children, so she is grievously harassed in mind continually."
Sir Albert listened as an uninterested person might, then asked some questions about Hugh Price and his good wife Dorothe, and the refractory children, who were causing so much trouble. He found the Virginian voluble and willing to impart all the information he had; but he grew heartily tired of the loafer and at last left him.
No one was more interested in the stranger from across the sea than Rebecca Stevens. She had not seen him; but she had heard so much of him from her brother and others, that her girlish curiosity was aroused. One evening, as she was taking her favorite walk about the village, having wandered farther than she intended, she found herself in the wood above the town, near the old building, which Captain John Smith had called the glass-house. She turned and began at once retracing her steps, for already the sun had set, and the shades of night were gathering over the landscape. She was in sight of the church, when a short, fat little man suddenly met her. He was out of breath, as if he had been running. In the gathering twilight she recognized him as her persecutor.
"Ah! Miss Stevens, this is truly extraordinary. Believe me, this meeting is quite providential, for it enables me to pour into your ear my tale of love."
"Mr. Peram, begone, leave me!"
"Oh, no, my dear, I will never let you go until you have consented to take my name."
In his zeal, the ungentlemanly wooer seized her hand, and his vicious little eyes glared at her with such ferocity, that she gave utterance to a shriek of fear. The tread of hurried feet fell on her ears, and through the deepening shades of twilight, she caught a glimpse of a scarlet coat, long white hair and beard and flashing jewels. Hands of iron seized Giles Peram. He was lifted into the air as if he had been an infant, and flung head first into a cluster of white thorn, where he lay for a few moments, confused and bleeding. Then Sir Albert St. Croix raised the half-fainting Rebecca from the ground and said:
"Come, my child, be not affrighted; he will not harm you."
She gazed up at the kind face and asked:
"Are you the owner of the shipDespair?"
"I am."
"Thank you, Sir Albert," she began; but he quickly interrupted her with:
"Thank not me, sweet child; but come, tell me what hath gone amiss, and have no fear, for I am powerful enough to save you from any harm."
While the villanous little coward Giles Peram crawled from the hedge and hurried back to town, the old man led the victim of his insults to the church, where they sat upon the step at the front of the vestibule. She had no fear of this good old man, whom she instinctively loved, and who seemed to wield over her a strange and mysterious influence. He asked her all about her tormentor, and she confided everything to him. She told him of the loss of her father at sea, and how they had lived through adversity until better days dawned, then of her mother's second marriage, and the trouble between her brother and Hugh Price. She did not even omit the recent uprising in which her brother had joined Bacon and the rebels in a mad blow for freedom.
"The worst has not yet come, I greatly fear," sighed the little maid. "The rebellion is not over, and my brother will yet, I fear, be hung by the governor, for Mr. Price, his bitter enemy, is a firm friend of the governor."
"He shall not be harmed, sweet maid. I have a great ship, with larger and more destructive guns than were ever in Virginia. I have a crew loyal even unto death, and I could bombard and destroy their town, ere they harm either your brother, yourself or your mother."
He looked so earnest, so like a good angel of deliverance, that the impulsive Rebecca threw her arms about his neck, and he, pressing a kiss upon her fair young cheek, exclaimed:
"God bless you! There, I must go."
He conducted her home, went aboard his ship, and next morning the mysterious craft had disappeared from the harbor.
There were too many exciting incidents transpiring at Jamestown for the public to dwell long on the stranger. The same day on which the ship disappeared, the rumor ran about town:
"Bacon has fled! Bacon has fled!"
The rumor was a truth. Robert Stevens had gone with him, and although Mr. Lawrence explained that Bacon's wife was ill, and he had gone to visit her, yet Berkeley, ever suspicious, construed his sudden breaking of his parole into open hostility, and prepared to treat it accordingly.
BACON A REBEL.
"Hark! 'tis the sound that charms
The war-steed's wakening ears.
Oh! many a mother folds her arms
Round her boy-soldier, when that call she hears,
And though her fond heart sink with fears,
Is proud to feel his young pulse bound
With valor's fervor at the sound."
--MOORE.
The day after the mysterious disappearance of the shipDespairand the flight of Bacon, a ship from New England arrived in port. Bacon's flight and the disappearance of Sir Albert and his vessel were so nearly at the same time, that a rumor went around the town that the former had escaped in the vessel of the latter. This rumor however was soon dispelled on learning that Bacon was at Curles rallying the planters about him.
The vessel which had just come into port aroused new speculations, until it was learned that it was only a trading ship from Boston doing a little business in defiance of the navigation laws. The vessel brought only one passenger. That passenger was a beautiful young maid.
She was landed soon after the vessel cast anchor, and her first inquiry was for Rebecca Stevens:
"Is she a relative of yours, young maid?" asked the man of whom she inquired.
"No; I know of her, and would see her."
"Do you see the large brick house upon the hill--not the one on the left of the church, but to the right with the broad piazza and wires in front?"
"I see it."
"She lives there. It is the home of Hugh Price, who married her mother."
The sailors brought some baggage ashore which was carried to a warehouse to remain until the fair traveller should send for it, and pay the costs of transfer.
"Do you travel alone, young maid?" asked the man whom she had addressed.
"I do."
"Where is your mother?"
"Dead," she answered sadly,
"Then you are an orphan?"
"I am. War is raging with the Indians in New England, and I was not safe there, so I came to Virginia."
She thanked the man who had so kindly directed her, and went to the house of Hugh Price. This house, next to the home of Governor Berkeley, was the most elegant mansion in Virginia. On the front door was a large brass knocker, common at the time, and, seizing it, the young girl struck the door. It was opened by a negro woman whose red turban and rich dress indicated that she was the household servant of an aristocratic family. The stranger asked for Rebecca Stevens, and was shown to her room. Rebecca was astonished to see the pretty stranger; but before she could ask who she was, the maid said:
"I am Ester Goffe from Massachusetts. The war with the Indians rages sorely in that land, and my friends and relatives sent me here."
"Ester--Ester Goffe," stammered Rebecca. "Then you are my brother's affianced."
"I am."
In a moment the girls were clasped in each other's arms, mingling their tears of joy and grief. Then Rebecca held her at arm's length and, gazing on the beautiful face and soft brown eyes, said:
"I don't blame Robert. How could he help loving you?" and once more she clasped her in her arms.
"Where is he--where is Robert?"
Rebecca started at the question, and an expression of pain swept over her face, which alarmed Ester.
"Alas, he is gone. He hath fled with Bacon, and I fear that you have escaped from one calamity only to fall into another." Then she explained the distracted condition of the country, concluding with:
"You must not be known here as Ester Goffe. Were it known by Sir William Berkeley, or even my mother's husband, that the child of a regicide was here, I know not what the result would be; but, alas, I fear it would be your ruin."
"But can I see him?" asked Ester.
"Who, Sir William Berkeley or Mr. Hugh Price?"
"Robert."
A pallor overspread the sister's face at this request, and she answered that she knew not how they could communicate with him.
"Have you no faithful servant?"
There was old black Sam who had always been faithful. Usually the negroes were cunning as well as treacherous, for, having been but recently brought from Africa, they had much of the heathen still in their natures; but old black Sam had been faithful to the brother through all trying scenes and adversities, and, though he dared not "cross Master Price," he secretly aided Rebecca in many small schemes objectionable to the stepfather. Sam was summoned, and Rebecca asked:
"Sam, could you find my brother?"
"I doan know, misse; but I believe old black Sam could."
"Would you take a small bit of writing to him?"
"If misse want um to go, ole black Sam, him try. De bay boss, him go fast, an' black Sam, him go on um back."
Rebecca hastily wrote on a slip of paper:
DEAR BROTHER;--
Ester is at our house and would like to see you. Do not come unless you can do so safely, for Sir William Berkeley is furious.
Your sister,
REBECCA.
Meanwhile, the fiery General Bacon was not at Curles nursing his sick wife, as was reported (and who was not sick at all); but he, in company with Robert Stevens, was riding to and fro, at the heads of the rivers, sounding the slogan. At the word from Bacon, his friends rose in arms, and among them were a part of the eight thousand horse which Berkeley had reported in the colony. The people had borne enough of Berkeley's tyranny, and the masses sided with Bacon. Even those who did not take up arms in his defence were friendly to his interests. The clans were gathering. They hastened from plantation and hundred, from lowland manor-house and log cabin in the woods of the upland, well-armed housekeepers, booted and spurred, armed with good broadswords and fusils for the wars that were plainly coming. Bacon in a little while had collected a force of nearly six hundred men. In fact, it was not more than three or four days after his escape, before, at the head of this force, he was marching on Jamestown.
Berkeley was alarmed and dispatched messengers to York and Gloucester for the train-bands; but only about one hundred soldiers could be mustered, and before these could reach Jamestown, Bacon entered it at the head of his army, and about two o'clock in the afternoon drew up his troops, horse and foot, upon the green, not an arrow's flight from the end of the statehouse. All the streets and roads leading into the town were guarded, the inhabitants disarmed and the boats in the harbor seized.
Jamestown was thrown into confusion. Sir William Berkeley and his council were holding a council of war, when the roll of drums and blast of trumpets announced that Bacon was in possession of the city.
The house of burgesses was called to order, though little order was preserved on that day, when a collision between law and rebellion seemed inevitable. Between two files of infantry Bacon advanced to the corner of the statehouse, and the governor came out. Bacon, who had perfect control over himself, advanced toward him. Berkeley was in a rage. Walking straight toward Bacon, he tore open the lace at his bosom and cried:
Illustration: Here! Shoot me! 'Fore God, a fair mark!
Bacon curbed his rising anger and replied:
"Here! Shoot me! 'Fore God, a fair mark!"
"No, may it please your honor, we will not hurt a hair of your head, nor of any other man's. We are come for a commission to save our lives from the Indians, which you have so often promised, and now we will have it before we go."
Without a word in response, the governor and council wheeled about and returned to their chamber, and Bacon followed them, his left arm akimbo, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. As they made him no answer, Bacon became furious and tossed his arms about excitedly, while the fusileers covered the window of the assembly chamber with their guns, and continually yelled:
"We will have it! We will have it!" (Meaning the commission.)
One of Bacon's friends among the burgesses shook his handkerchief from the window and answered:
"You shall have it! You shall have it!"
The soldiers at this uncocked their guns and waited further orders from Bacon. Their leader had dashed into the council chamber swearing:
"D--n my blood! I'll kill governor, council, assembly and all, and then I'll sheathe my sword in my own heart's blood!"
The wildest excitement prevailed in the town. Everybody was on the street, and the massacre of the governor and his council was momentarily expected. Two young girls ran toward an officer in the army of the rebel. One of Bacon's young captains met them and clasped an arm about each. It was Ester and Rebecca meeting the brother and lover. The excitement was too great for many to bestow more than a passing glance on the trio. There was a murmured prayer by all three, and they were silent.
A scene so ridiculous as to excite the laughter of many followed the assault on the statehouse. A sleek, plump little fellow, frightened out of his wits, was seen trying to climb out of a window on the opposite side from which danger was threatened. He got out and clung to the window with his hands, his short, fat legs dangling in the air and kicking against the wall.
"Marry! help me! Mother of God, I will be killed if I fall, and shot if I don't!"
It was Giles Peram, whose legs were six feet from the ground. He howled and yelled; but all were too busy to pay any attention to him, and at last his strength gave out, and he fell with a stunning thud upon the ground, where he lay gasping for breath, partially unconscious, but with no bones broken.
After half an hour's interview, Bacon returned. The burgesses hesitated; but the governor held out some promises for next day. Giles Peram, having regained his strength and breath, sprang to his feet and ran as fast as his short legs could carry him to the far end of the street to escape from the town; but half a dozen mounted Virginians with broadswords blocked up his passage. He next ran to the left and was met by men with pikes, one of whom prodded him so that he yelled and ran under some ornamental shrubs, beneath which a pair of frightened dogs had taken shelter. A fight for possession followed, and for a while it was doubtful; but Giles, inspired by fear, fought with the desperation of a madman and drove the dogs forth. With his scarlet coat and his silk stockings soiled, his wig lost and lace and ruffles all torn and ruined, he crouched under the shrubs, groaning:
"Oh, Lordy, Lordy! I will be killed! I know I will be killed!" The governor's valiant secretary presented a deplorable sight, indeed.
Next day Bacon was commissioned by the governor as general and commander-in-chief of the forces against the Indians. It was a great triumph for the young republican. Berkeley even wrote a letter to the king applauding what Bacon had done on the frontier.
Robert Stevens paid his mother, sister and sweetheart a visit. Not having received Rebecca's letter, he was ignorant of Ester's presence in Virginia, until he discovered her, as they were drawn up for battle. Many hoped that trouble was over; but Robert said:
"It is not. I know Berkeley too well. He is a cunning old knave, and as soon as he has recovered from the fright into which the appearance of an armed force precipitated him, he will relent and do something terrible."
"Brother, do not place yourself in his power," said his sister.
"Fear not, sweet sister, I shall have a care for myself. Where is Mr. Price?"
"At the governor's."
"Does he know that Ester is General Goffe's daughter?"
"No."
"He must not. He would report it to the governor, who, in his idiotic love for monarchy, would adjudge her responsible for a deed committed before she was born."
"We will keep the secret, brother."
"When do you go?" asked Ester.
"The army marches against the Indians on the morrow." He was about to say something more, when they espied Mr. Giles Peram coming toward them. His face was smiling, though there were a few scratches upon it.
"Marry! friend Robert, good morrow! Did you learn of my great speech in the house of burgesses yesterday, when they were about to refuse your general his commission?"
"I knew not that you were a member of the house."
Peram, blushing, answered:
"Nor am I; but I forced myself, at the peril of my life, into their presence, and I swore--yes, God forgive me, but I swore if they did not give the commission, I would annihilate them, and, by the mass, they were afraid of me, and they granted it." With this the diminutive egotist strutted proudly before his auditors.
Black Sam, who had overheard his remark, with his native impetuosity put in:
"'Fore God, massa, what a lie! Why, he war all de time under de thorn bushes fighten wid de dogs fur a hiden-place."
Giles gave utterance to an exclamation of rage and flew at the negro with upraised cane; but black Sam evaded his blow and, with a laugh, ran into the kitchen, yelling back: "It am so. Jist see dem scratches on him face."
Quite crestfallen, Mr. Peram retired, and for several days did not annoy Rebecca with his presence.
Next morning Bacon started on his campaign against the Indians. The burgesses were then dissolved and went back to their homes. The fact that that body sat in June, 1676, and in the same month instructed the Virginia delegates to propose independence of England, has been a theme of much discussion among historians.
Bacon, at the head of his army, duly commissioned, was marching against the Indians. All things in Virginia were virtually under his control as commander of the military. Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Drummond, ex-governor of Carolinia, though they were his friends, remained in Jamestown to look after his interests there. Drummond declared he was "in over-shoes, and he would be over-boots." Had Bacon been uninterrupted, there can be no doubt that his power on the Indians would have been felt; but Berkeley began to relent that he had ever commissioned him, and issued a proclamation declaring him a rebel and revoking his commission. The news was brought to Bacon while on the upper waters, by Lawrence and Drummond. When he heard it, the general declared:
"It vexes my heart for to think that while I am hunting wolves, tigers and foxes, which daily destroy our harmless sheep and lambs, I and those with me should be pursued with a full cry, as a more savage or no less ravenous beast."
Bacon began his march back to the lower waters. On the way, they captured a spy sent by Berkeley to their camp and hung him. Bacon went to the Middle Plantation, afterward Williamsburg, and camped.
Berkeley, hearing of the return of Bacon's army, which was not disbanded, hastened to Accomac for recruits, and Drummond urged Bacon to depose Berkeley, and appoint Sir Henry Chicheley in his place. When the leader of the rebellion murmured against this, the Scotchman answered:
"Do not make so strange of it, for I can show you ancient records that such things have been done in Virginia."
This, however, was carrying matters too far, even for Bacon. He remembered that Governor Harvey, who had been deposed in a similar manner, was reinstated by the king. He issued a remonstrance against Berkeley's proclamation denouncing him as a rebel, declaring that he and his followers were good and loyal subjects of the king of England, who were only in arms against the savages. Then followed a list of public grievances. He declared that some in authority had come to the country poor, and were now rolling in wealth, likening them to sponges, that have sucked up and devoured the common treasury. He asked, "What arts, sciences, schools of learning, or manufactures have been promoted by any now in authority?"
The governor's beaver trade with Indians, in which he thought more of his profits than the lives of his subjects on the frontier, was not forgotten.
Bacon was declared a rebel, his life was forfeited to Berkeley if captured, and while at the Middle Plantation, he required an oath of his followers to even resist the king's troops if they should come to Virginia. The people of Virginia had not yet learned the true principles of liberty. They still supposed that liberty could be gained while they retained their allegiance to the king of England. It required a hundred years more to convince them that freedom was incompatible with royalty. The paper signed at Middle Plantation on this third day of August, 1676, was a notable document. It began by stating that certain persons had raised forces against General Bacon, which had brought on civil war, and if forces came from England they would oppose them.
The next step of the rebels was to organize a government. Bacon issued writs for the representatives of the people to assemble early in September. The writs were in the king's name, and were signed by four of the council.
This done, Bacon set off on his Indian campaign, leaving behind him a mighty tumult. The new world had defied the old. At midnight by torchlight, the grim-faced pioneers of Virginia had sworn to be free. Everywhere men and women hailed the oath with enthusiasm.
"Now we can build ships and, like New England, trade with any other part of the world," they declared. Sarah Drummond, the wife of the Scottish conspirator, exclaimed:
"The child that is unborn shall have cause to rejoice for the good that will come by the rising of the country." And when a person by her side said, "We must expect a greater power from England, that will certainly be our ruin," Drummond's wife took up a stick, broke it in two and cried disdainfully:
"I fear the power of England no more than a broken straw! We will do well enough."
The women took great interest in public affairs at this time. The wife of Cheeseman urged him to join Bacon and fight for their liberties, which he did, as she afterward declared, at her own request. The whole country was with Bacon, and, after instructing them to resist any force that might come from England, he crossed James River at Curles with a force of three hundred men, and fell upon the Appomattox Indians at what is now Petersburg, with such fury that he killed or routed the entire tribe. Bacon fought so viciously, that his name was a dread to the savages fifty years after his death. For one without training, he displayed wonderful military ability. Having completely routed all the Indians, early in September Bacon with his army returned to the settlements, and had reached West Point when he received news that Sir William Berkeley, with a thousand men and seventeen ships, was in possession of Jamestown.
Berkeley had not all gloom and disaster on his side. Captain Bland, who had been sent by Bacon with a considerable force to capture Berkeley, was led into a trap and captured by Captain Larramore. Shortly after, the governor returned to Jamestown with a large number of longshoremen and loafers, great enough in quantity, but inferior as soldiers in quality.
While Jamestown was deserted by both belligerent parties, and its frightened inhabitants were waiting in feverish anxiety the next event in the great drama, there suddenly appeared in the harbor the wonderful vesselDespair. The ship entered in the night as mysteriously as it had disappeared, and again the white-haired Sir Albert was seen on the streets of Jamestown. He met Rebecca the day of his arrival, and she said:
"I feared you had gone, never to come back."
"Did you want to see me again, child?" he asked, in such a fatherly voice, that she could scarce resist the impulse to embrace him.
"I did, Sir Albert, for I remembered your promise, and I depend on you."
"The war rages again?"
"It does, and I fear for my brother. Sir William is coming with a thousand men."
"If the worst comes, sweet maid, I will take you aboard my ship."
"But my brother--oh, my brother!"
"He, also, will be safe."
"Would you take us all, and Ester, too?"
"Who is Ester?"
She told him all, for she felt that in this mysterious man she had a friend on whom she could rely. When she had finished, Sir Albert shook his snowy locks and remarked:
"You would do well to keep this from the ears of Sir William, sweet maid."
Then he went away into the forest. That evening, as he sat at the roadside, not far from Jamestown, the wife of Hugh Price, who had been to Greenspring, was returning home on her favorite saddle-horse. The animal became frightened at some object by the roadside, and leaped madly forward. The saddle turned and the woman would have fallen had not Sir Albert rushed to her rescue.
He lifted her from the saddle, and, while the horse dashed madly away, seated the rider safely at the roadside.
"Are you injured?" he asked the half-fainting woman.
"No."
"You are fortunate to escape so narrowly, madam. Do you live at Jamestown?"
"I do, sir. You are Sir Albert of theDespair, are you not?" asked Dorothe Price.
"I am."
"I have often heard of you. I thank you for your kind service, sir."
"Shall I see you home?"
"If not too much trouble."
As they walked along the road, he asked:
"Are you Mrs. Price?"
"I am."
"Mr. Hugh Price is your second husband?"
"He is."
"When did your first husband die?"
"Many years ago. He was lost at sea."
"Did he leave two children?"
"Yes, sir, two," she sighed, and the white-haired stranger; glancing at her face, asked:
"Was he a good man?"
"Good man! Oh, sir, he was an angel of goodness; but, alas, I never appreciated him, until he was gone. I oft recall that fatal morning when he bade me farewell, when he kissed the baby and left a tear on her cheek. I was happy then!" Tears were now trickling down her cheeks.
"Are you happy now?"
"Alas, no. I am miserable."
"Why?"
"My husband is an enemy to my son. Price is a royalist while Robert is a Puritan and a republican."
"Is your son with Bacon?"
"He is, and Sir William would hang Robert if he could."
"He shall not hang him."
"If he captures him, who will prevent it?"
"I will." They parted at the door, and as the old man went down to his boat, she gazed after him, murmuring:
"Heaven surely hath sent us a protector at last."