"And does this marriage take place with Virginia's consent?"
"She has not been consulted as yet; her health, in the first place, did not admit of it, and in the second, the evidence which she so lately gave of being utterly incapable of choosing a husbandcalculated to secure her own happiness, or reflect honour upon her family and connexions, has caused that duty to devolve on me."
"But, Sir William, suppose she should refuse to accept the husband of your choice? You certainly will not enforce your determination."
"Her lamented father and myself entered long since into a covenant by which these young people were to be united. On the very morning of his death, we talked the matter over; he freely and fully consented to the completion of the engagement, and forthwith it shall be carried into execution, if sufficient authority remains to me in these turbulent and rebellious times to enforce it."
"But you will give her time to assuage her grief, and make up her mind to the lot which awaits her. You surely will not precipitate her into the celebration of these nuptials?"
"You talk, young lady, as if it were some horrible and revolting monster to whom I intended uniting her, instead of the presumptive heir and nearest kinsman of Sir William Berkley, well favoured and highly accomplished, as you must acknowledge that he is. She has had time enough to recover her equanimity, and as soon as her health is equally restored, the ceremony shall be performed; and whether or not, it is my purpose to complete it before the return of that arch-rebel Bacon to the city. Please God, however, I intend he shall return in irons toundergo the penalty demanded by the outraged laws of his country."
"And you will not permit me to see my friend for five minutes—only five minutes?"
"No! lady, you are now advised of my intentions touching the disposal of my niece, and you may readily comprehend the reasons of your exclusion from her presence, without my entering into further and more painful explanations."
With this answer, Harriet was compelled to be content, and therefore making a reverence, more than usually formal, to his Excellency, she withdrew. It was not in her nature, however, to resign her friend to the fate which threatened her, without an effort to relieve her. From the gubernatorial mansion she immediately hastened in pursuit of O'Reily, in order to despatch him with a communication for his master. But Brian was nowhere to be found; her own researches and those of the servant whom she despatched in pursuit of him were of no effect; she was therefore compelled to entrust her message to one of her father's negroes, who was well mounted, and despatched upon his errand, within less than two hours from the time of her interview with his Excellency.
During the absence of the army in the Peninsula, Sir William Berkley had not been idle, as has already been intimated. The commands borne by his couriers to those Cavaliers throughout the colony, who were yet well affected to his government, began now to bring them in from all directions,and the regular soldiers stationed at the forts, which were so offensive to the citizens, were marching rapidly upon the capital from every quarter. Some had already arrived, and the city was once more thronged with eager faces. Sounds of martial music were again heard through the streets, and the more quiet citizens again disturbed with the stern preparations for war.
The present military and Cavalier assemblages in the capital were, however, of a very different political character, and brought together with very different motives from those which had preceded them. They were not less in numbers, spirit and appointments; but their object was not to cope with the savage—it was to measure arms in deadly strife with their own countrymen and fellow-citizens. The army now assembling, was intended by the Governor to suppress what he called the rebellion, and his purpose was, as soon as his forces should all arrive, to march at once to the Falls of the Powhatan, and while the popular army were engaged in front with the savage enemies of their country, to fall upon their rear, and either cut them in pieces, or compel them to surrender as rebels found bearing arms against his majesty's authority in the colony.
Seldom have political parties of any country presented so strange an aspect as did those of Virginia at this period. First, the people of the city had been divided between the Cavaliers and Roundheads. The latter were no sooner brought intocomplete subjection, than a new amalgamation took place, by which their distinctive character was lost. Then, growing out of the puerile obstinacy of Sir William Berkley, in refusing to repel the incursions of the Indians merely because he had at first maintained that there was no danger to be apprehended from their hostility, the popular or conservative party sprang into existence. Against these were now arrayed the loyalist faction, and most of those descended from noble ancestors or bearing titles, headed by the Governor himself.
In a very few days this latter party had assembled their whole military force in the city, and the most active preparations were made to march against Bacon and his followers who were carrying fire and sword into the very heart of the country occupied by the real enemies of the colony.
The temporary duties of the government were resigned into the hands of Sir H. Chicherley, while Sir William Berkley, Sir Herbert Jeffries, Francis Beverly, Philip Ludwell, and their compeers, assumed the most important stations of command in the army of the loyalists. Much the larger portion of the regular troops were composed of foreign mercenaries, sent over from England to perform those very duties which Bacon and his followers were now to be punished for assuming. The very soldiers who ought to have protected the whites against the incursions of the Indians were to be turned against the patriot band which hadvolunteered to perform a service no longer to be deferred with safety to the colony. It is true that the commissions of Bacon and his officers were not legally signed by the constituted authorities; but an emergency had arisen which threw the citizens back at once upon their original rights and powers. The government having failed to afford them protection for their lives and property, they had assumed that office for themselves. This was the condition of the colony at the juncture of which we write.
While Sir William and his coadjutors were thus busily collecting and disciplining their forces, the citizens of the capital were not uninterested spectators of this unwonted succession of military preparations. Most of those remaining in the city had friends and relations in the ranks of the popular army, and though they dared not openly express their disapprobation of the Governor's proceedings, their discontent was deep and settled, and only awaited the departure of the present overpowering force, again to burst into open resistance against the government.
While these preparations for civil strife were going on in the streets of the city, a discussion of not less interesting import to some of the leading characters of our story, was carried on within the walls of the Governor's mansion. The stout old Cavalier had fixed upon the day preceding the departure of his army, for the solemnization of themarriage between his niece and his kinsman Beverly. He had himself held several interviews with the former, but had failed to make the least impression on her mind, either by his reasoning or his more artful appeals to her filial duty and affections.
In vain had he detailed her father's plans and expectations. In vain had he appealed to her love and respect for his memory. In vain had he descended from his dignity to reproach her with the late disastrous occurrence at the chapel. In vain had he coarsely charged her with desiring an alliance, contrary alike to the laws of God and man. She was deaf to his arguments and his threats. But the time approached with fearful rapidity, which he had appointed for the ceremony. The intended bridegroom held an important command in the expedition now preparing, and it was Sir William's intention that he should be married and set out on the succeeding morning. Notwithstanding our heroine's apparent firmness, therefore, in presence of her stern relative, every note of preparation which was wafted into her chamber sent the blood oppressively to her heart. Her naturally mild and gentle nature shrunk from the contemplation of the violence which her fears and her knowledge of her kinsman induced her to believe would be used to overcome her resolution.
His pretended dread of the disgrace which he charged her with desiring to bring upon his familyshe knew was exactly the apology he wanted for the arbitrary measures necessary to the completion of the plan.
She was alone in the world. No one now stood ready to give her rescue from the relentless hands which placed restraint upon her inclinations. Her nearest kindred had, as she believed, fallen by the savage tomahawk, and her only remaining relative was about to force her into a marriage which she detested. Notwithstanding all these depressing circumstances, her elastic mind and sanguine temperament had hitherto risen above the accumulating weight of her misfortunes. She had still preserved the vague yet constant hope, so natural to youth, that some fortunate occurrence, some unexpected accident would yet take place to mar the well laid plans of the Governor. But as the time approached, and the preparations moved steadily forward without any evidence of coming succour, or the fortunate event which was to release her from her dreadful situation, her heart began to misgive her—she was compelled in some measure to assume an humbler posture towards the stern old man in whose hands her destiny seemed placed. Her ingenuity had turned the subject in all its various aspects—every chance of escape was provided against. Even the presence of her friend Harriet, upon which she had founded most of her hopes, was rigidly and perseveringly denied to her. As a last and desperateresort, she humbly supplicated her uncle for an uninterrupted interview with him to whom he purposed to marry her; and Sir William seeing nothing in this request calculated to defeat his plans, but on the contrary hoping that it proceeded from a wavering resolution, granted the request.
She sat upon a large leathern-backed chair, her head leaning upon the window sill, and her flaxen ringlets clustering around her pale and attenuated, but still beautiful features. Herrobe de chamberwas white and simple in its fashion, and her hands were listlessly and languidly twined into its folds, seeming, every now and then, as if her delicate fingers would pierce the yielding texture. A solitary tear seemed as if it had already departed from its pure fountain, as tremblingly it hung upon the long dewy eyelash, the mere closing of which dissipated it into a thin misty veil of sadness to her liquid melancholy blue eye, as it was turned in fearful expectation towards the door.
At length Beverly entered. She had until this moment strenuously resisted all endeavours to promote an interview, and once, on a former similar occasion, had covered her face and pertinaciously resisted all attempts on his part to lead her into conversation. He now entered with the knowledge that the invitation came from herself; he felt his supposed power; and a lofty smile played upon his proud but handsome features. As he approached, she sank upon her knees, and claspedher hands in supplication. The tears had now burst the restraints of thought and internal oppression, and rapidly coursed each other down her cheeks as she spoke, "You see before you, sir, a solitary female and an orphan, bereaved suddenly and cruelly of her natural protectors—deserted or oppressed by those who should have supplied their place. Before the distracting grief for these afflictions has had time to lose its first intensity, she has been cruelly beset and importuned to become a party to a marriage, of which she had never before thought. You, sir, are the other party! I entreat, I implore you on my knees, at least to postpone this intended ceremony. If it is performed to-night, as my uncle has appointed, the wrath of Heaven will be poured out upon such a desecration of its holy institutions. You, sir, will wed a corpse or a raving maniac! Interpose then, I pray you. Petition Sir William, as from yourself alone, for its postponement, at least until your return from the intended campaign, and I will pray for your happiness until the end of my existence. I will then indeed believe that you desire mine."
He made several attempts to raise her from her supplicating posture, during her appeal, but she maintained her attitude. Having paused to catch her exhausted breath, he seized the opportunity to say, "Are you sure, madam, that there is no lurking weakness, no sinister design, in this demand for farther time?"
"Of what design, what weakness do you suspect me?" she exclaimed, raising her head boldly, and losing almost instantly the subdued tone of entreaty.
"Of base and criminal affections for one who should be blotted from the tablets of your memory for his villany, if not for his kindred blood!"
She was on her feet in an instant; her ringlets wildly tossed back by a quick motion of the head, and a corresponding effort with both hands, which she held still clasped in her hair, as she stared at him an instant before she replied,
"Are you a man? A gentleman? A Cavalier? That you come here to insult and trample upon one already deserted of all mankind? Her whom you pretend to desire for a companion through joy and wo! How base, how cowardly, to insult a helpless female, and that female your kinswoman—one whom you pretend to love. Out upon you, sir, for a dastard! Were he now here whom you so basely slander, you would not dare employ such language!"
"Softly, softly, my dear lady. You are only betraying your own feelings, and counteracting the relenting mood into which your well acted appeal was near betraying me."
"Oh, then, forget what I have said, and be indeed the high minded, generous Beverly, I once believed you! We were children together, caressed by the same friends and owning a common origin. Can you then witness unmoved my forlorn condition, without one feeling of compassion?"
Beverly was not wholly without tender feelings, although they were so concentrated upon himself, that it required the touch of a master hand to reach his heart. Selfish men, however, are sometimes easily worked upon by allusions or appeals to their family pride. Their connexions are a constituent part of the idol of their worship—self; and it is not the least remarkable feature in their characters, that such men are almost always affectionate husbands and devoted parents. These are but a part of self; their kindred by a farther remove are generally valued in proportion to their ability to confer honour upon the common stock.
"He that feels not love," says Goethe, "must learn to flatter." Doubtless the great German poet was contemplating the difficulties of the supremely selfish man in love, when he penned this aphorism. But Beverly was not so profoundly skilled in the human heart; he ardently desired to possess the hand of his fair kinswoman, as well on account of her many personal attractions, as of the rich inheritance of which she was the heiress; but he had not learned his own harsh defects of character, and of course could not substitute the arts of flattery for the softer eloquence of love. He felt and enjoyed his power, as compensating in some degree for the want of admiration of himself in his intended bride, and such were the feelings operating upon him when heentered her chamber; but her last appeal seemed to move his selfish nature, as he paused to contemplate the eloquent suppliant before he replied.
"Suppose that I obtain from Sir William his consent for the postponement of the ceremony, will you then give me your hand of your own free will?"
She paused before replying. The case was desperate; no succour seemed now within the bounds of probability. The shades of evening were fast gathering around the gloomy precincts of her secluded apartment. She knew her uncle's determination of character. One only chance of escape appeared remaining open to her, and she desperately resolved to seize it. Such was the train of reasoning by which she rapidly arrived at this conclusion, and replied,
"Our inclinations are not always within our own control, but if you obtain this reprieve, I promise to give you my hand upon the return of the present expedition, provided that nothing occurs in the mean time to free me from the necessity. For I will be plain and honest with you, and avow my determination to escape this marriage if I can."
"I understand you, fair cousin; you expect deliverance at the hands of your degraded and new found kinsman; but trust me, he will need succour himself before that time arrives. I expect to march him through these streets in irons on mywedding-day. Frown not—gather no storms of indignation upon your brow—it shall be even so. But time wears apace; so pledge yourself before Heaven, that if I obtain Sir William's consent to this delay, you will be mine upon the return of the army."
"Before Heaven I promise you, under the condition I have named."
"It is then a bargain, and I will seek the Governor to fulfil my part of it; should he consent, see that you remember your plighted faith. As for your condition, I take no thought of that;" and with this remark he left the room.
It was with the greatest difficulty that she could suppress her rising indignation, upon his again alluding to her new found kinsman; but she did so far suppress it as to force herself through the required promise. The door had no sooner closed upon his retreating footsteps, than she clasped her hands, and exclaimed fervently, raising her eyes toward heaven, "Thank God! I am now freed from the immediate apprehension of this most hated union. Oh, if he does but come within the allotted time! and come as my flattering hopes persuade me that he will—a conqueror! hailed as the deliverer of his country—the champion of her oppressed and outraged people, and the preserver of the most wretched of her maidens! what blessings will be his! Be he brother or kinsman or lover, he shall live for ever in this grateful heart. Brother indeed! He is a brother in kindness,devotion, and disregard of self; but a brother in kindred blood, my heart assures me he is not."
The door was again opened after the lapse of a short time, and Beverly entered to say, "I have seen Sir William, and presented my request; he refused at first, but when I told him that you had promised to be mine at the expiration of the required time, he yielded his consent. I purposely concealed from him that there was any condition in the case, first, because I take no heed to it myself, and secondly, because it might have precluded his concurrence, and would most certainly be a motive with him for placing you under still more rigid restraint. You see, sweet coz, that I study your happiness far more than you give me credit for. Why will you not freely then make me its guardian for life?"
"How very different is the selfish man," thought Virginia, "who thus blazons his own little acts of merest charity, for refined and delicate attentions, from him who possesses innate benevolence and gentleness of heart? He would have studiously concealed a hundred greater kindnesses than this." But under present circumstances, even such unfavourable comparisons did not prevent her from replying,
"For every act of kindness towards me, Mr. Beverly, I am sure I try to feel very grateful, and since I have been within these walls, my feelings have been so little exercised in that way that it is really refreshing to feel under their influence,even in the smallest degree. The very servants treat me as a lost and abandoned creature. Those of my own sex that once professed love and respect for me, fly from the apartment when I speak to them, as if there were contamination in my very voice. I know that some horrible tale has been told them about me: would you but take the trouble to correct the false impression, before you depart, my solitary lot might be greatly softened, and I would then have double cause for gratitude."
"With the domestic arrangements of the house I dare not interfere—Sir William has directed all those things himself."
"And is it by his orders too that my aunt comes not to see me, nor sends a kind word of inquiry as to my health these long sad days, or a book to while away the longer and more gloomy nights?"
"It is. She has wept as many foolish tears almost as yourself, since your confinement to this room."
"Thank God! You have taken a load from off my heart. There is then one soul within the house, of my own sex and blood too, who sympathises with me during these stern severities."
"Your trials will soon be over, my pretty coz, and then we will remove to a house of our own, and you shall lord it over some of these blackies, in revenge for their want of respect, to your heart's content." Attempting to chuck her under the chin, as he spoke, she was compelled to turn her head suddenly toward the window, for the double purpose of placing herself beyond the reach of hishand, and of concealing the rising flush of anger and contempt that glowed upon her countenance. She saw that he treated her as a child—that he imagined such conversation suited to the level of her capacity, and longed to humble his proud self-sufficiency, but dared not under present circumstances. For the first time in her life, she found herself compelled to disguise her natural feelings, and suppress the bitter words which rose upon her tongue. She therefore, by way of changing the conversation, and knowing not what else to say, inquired, "How soon does your army expect to return?"
"Soon, my dear coz, very soon. In ten days at farthest, I hope to lay some of the trophies of victory at your feet, and twine you a bridal turban from the standard of the rebel chief." Again she was forced to turn her head away. And the harmony of their meeting, constrained and unnatural as it was, would probably very soon have been ruptured by the almost bursting indignation which agitated her bosom, had not the martial summons to the evening parade called her tormentor from her presence.
By dawn of day, on the morning after the interview just related, the army under the command of Sir William Berkley took up its line of march toward the falls of the Powhatan.
Virginia was a sad and silent spectator of the imposing pageant. She stood at her window facing one of the cross streets, through which their marchwas directed, and examined the devices of banner after banner, as they moved along in martial pomp, to the soul-inspiring music of the drums and trumpets. No sympathizing emotions or half embodied supplications to the Ruler of Nations for the safety of their persons or the success of their arms burst from her lips. She saw the proud and self-satisfied Beverly curvetting by on his equally proud steed; she even saw him gayly wave his towering plumes in recognition of her presence without an answering nod or a single indication of approval. Her heart and hopes followed the standard of the youthful Captain who commanded the force which these were summoned to scatter and destroy. Long after the last ensign had passed from her sight, and the music was heard only in faint and distant echoes as it swelled and died away upon the air, she stood in the same spot, her eyes apparently still occupied with passing objects. It was not so—she was endeavouring to look into futurity. She pictured in her imagination the army of the Cavaliers, under Bacon, struggling in the murderous ambuscade of the concentrated savage tribes in front, and mercilessly cut down by their own countrymen in the rear. She saw the stern and uncompromising Sir William and his veteran compeers, brandishing their sabres over the heads of the younger Cavaliers, and Beverly and Bacon engaged in the deadly contest of personal rivalry and political hatred. Notwithstanding the disadvantages of the latter's position, youthfulhopes and a sanguine temperament, awarded the victory to the cause which she believed the just one. She had already, as by miracle, escaped a fate which she considered far more to be deplored than death, and resolved to trust her own cause, and that in which it was involved, to him who rules the destinies of battles. She remembered, with feelings of adoration, that he had said that the race was not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong.
The army under the command of General Bacon had succeeded in concentrating the confederated tribes of the Peninsula, which had so long annoyed its flank and rear, at the falls of the Powhatan. Here they had erected a rude fortification, composed of fallen trees, having an entrenchment surrounding it, with the excavated earth thrown up as an embankment. This was situated upon an eminence commanding the more even ground on each side of a small stream, which ran nearly at right angles with, and fell into the river below the falls. The army of the Colonists arrived within sight of the Indian fires, just after the sun had sunk behind the horizon. General Bacon's plantation[3]was situated but a short distance from the very spot on which the savages had erected their fort, and consequently he was well acquainted with the ground. After halting a short time to examine the position of the enemy, he marched his troops to the open plain beneath their strong hold, in perfect silence. Here they bivouacked for the night, with the intention of storming the intrenchments at the first dawning of the morrow. Every thing was noiselessly putin readiness for this final struggle for supremacy between the whites and the Aborigines. The latter had collected in overwhelming numbers, and seemed determined to make a desperate effort to regain their lost footing in the land of their fathers, while the former, having daily improved in discipline, were in high health, buoyant with the youthful hope and courage, and impatient for the dawn, that they might strike a blow at once, to answer the high expectations of their friends at home, and terminate the war. Little did they imagine that an army of those very countrymen was treading in their footsteps, under the command of Sir William Berkley, with the avowed purpose of meting to them that chastisement which they were so impatient to bestow upon the enemy before them.
Their commander was not long left in ignorance upon this point, however, for scarcely had the columns made their arrangements for the night along each side of the small stream, before a courier from the capital was brought into his quarters, by one of the sentinels stationed upon the outskirts of the encampment. He was the bearer of a proclamation, signed by Sir William Berkley as Governor of his Majesty's Colony in Virginia, in which Bacon and his followers were denounced as traitors and rebels, and commanded forthwith to lay down their arms and return to their allegiance, under pain of death, and confiscation of their property. The surprise and indignationoccasioned by this singular document had not subsided, when another messenger was dragged into the presence of the commander in chief. It was a negro, trembling from head to foot with visible terror at the very uncivil treatment which he had received, and more, perhaps, at the warlike preparations around, and the glaring effects of the Indian fires on the hill. All attempts to gain an intelligible account of his mission proved for a length of time, utterly unavailing, until Bacon, recognising something of old acquaintance in his features, dismissed his attendants. He then quickly disclosed, in his mongrel dialect, that he had been ordered to deliver a letter into the general's own hands, and when no person was present. A greasy and rumpled document was then drawn from his pouch, which, notwithstanding its hard treatment, and discoloured exterior, Bacon instantly recognised as the writing of Harriet Harrison. The date was rather more remote than seemed necessary for its regular transmission to its present destination, which the sable messenger explained by stating that he had been some days dodging in the footsteps of the army, but that as often as he approached it he had been frightened back again by the flying hordes of savages, hanging upon their skirts. If Bacon felt disposed to indulge in merriment at the ludicrous detail of poor Pompey, the contents of the note, which he now began to decipher by the light of a lamp, speedily restored his gravity. Harriet briefly related to him the nature of theconversation she had held with Sir William Berkley at his own house, and the treatment which Virginia suffered at his hands; she concluded by stating the preparations then making in Jamestown by the Governor and his party, to pursue and capture, or cut them to pieces. This information was truly startling to the youthful general; that concerning Virginia was most moving; but the imminent peril of those gallant spirits entrusted to his command required his immediate attention. He despatched a chosen mounted band on the instant, to scout along the late route of his army, far enough to ascertain whether that under the command of Sir William was within such a distance, as to enable him to interrupt the contemplated attack upon the savages at the dawning of the coming day.
Bacon's character was eminently prompt and decisive. He determined, should such be the case, to commence the attack upon the instant he should receive such information.
Having provided for the safety and accommodation of Pompey, and ordered the courier of the Governor into close but respectful keeping, he sallied out along the outposts, to examine the scene of future operations. The stars twinkled brilliantly in the heavens around the horizon, but the glaring light of the savage fires upon the hill threw the mellowed rays of the heavenly orbs into dim contrast immediately round the two camps. As he walked along the margin of the little stream,upon the borders of which his own troops were stationed, toward the river, the night-scene presented to his view was reviving and exciting to his imagination. The ascending columns of fire upon the hill reflected the trees and other objects upon its brow in gigantic shadows over the plain beneath. The bright red light fell upon the broad sheet of water below the falls, in long horizontal rays, stretching far away over its shining surface toward the opposite shore. The island in the middle of the stream, a little higher up than the point at which he stood, was clothed in verdant impenetrable shrubbery—the darkness gathered around its shores more palpable from the contrast of the neighbouring fires. The roar of the falls fell monotonously upon his ear, ever and anon interrupted by the sharp shrill whoop of some over-joyous savage, engaged in orgies within the fort surmounting the hill. As he pensively stood upon the banks of the Powhatan, and surveyed the illuminated scene immediately around, and the darker shadows of the hills stretching away in the distance and skirting the margin of the river, the shining waves beneath his feet, and the dusky outlines of the rocks and islands beyond, it little entered his imagination that upon that romantic spot, in future time, there should spring up a noble city—the capital of an empire state—that the natural lawns upon which he stood, would be exchanged for docks and quays—that the hills on his right hand (which to a scholar might, even then, have recalledthe Acropolis) should support classic colonnades, and spires pointing to the clouds; and that the diminutive stream upon the banks of which his troops were bivouacked, should receive, from the sanguinary battle in which he was about to engage, a name to outlive the very monuments of his generation.[4]Without these deeply interesting associations, however, the scene in its natural and unreclaimed features was eminently captivating and romantic. No site in the country abounded more with bold and enchanting objects. On the one hand were the picturesque hills,[5]commanding a prospect seldom equalled, never surpassed, of landscape varied with woodland, dell and meadow, through which the shining waters of the Powhatan were now visible, glowing like a sheet of fire, and now lost in the shadows of the towering forests, as it held its devious course beyond the reach of the reflected fires in the back ground.
Our hero might have stood gazing upon this enchanting scene until the sound of the reveillé in the morning had roused him from his revery, had not his quick eye caught a glimpse of moving lights within the Indian encampment. With hurried steps he retraced his way through the line of sentinels, and issued immediate orders for his subordinates in command to assemble in military council. He was satisfied in his own mind, as he walked up the stream, that some unusual occurrencehad taken place within the palisade of the Indians—perhaps the presence of his own stationary columns, as they stood in their dark frowning outlines, had been discovered by the ever cunning and watchful enemy. He had more than once stood in wonder at the apparent absence of their usual stratagems and devices. He supposed, however, that, trusting to their immense superiority of numbers, and the protection of their breastworks, they had resolved to risk an engagement, in which courage and strength alone should be the implements of victory.
The council of war had scarcely assembled, before they were astounded with the report of musketry in answer to the usual accompaniments of a savage sortie, in the most remote direction of the camp. General Bacon issued his orders promptly and decisively. The columns whose rear had been surprised by a sortie from the enemy, were, by a prompt movement, instantly wheeled into line, changing their front so as to face the assailants, while the mounted Cavaliers, under the command of young Harrison, fiercely attacked them in flank. The desperate band of warriors were speedily driven within their breastworks. It was doubtless only their intention to harass the outskirts of the army, and then, by retreating, draw their pursuers within reach of the ambuscade stationed behind the breastwork. They were pursued by the mounted troops, whohad no sooner driven them within the palisade, than they in their turn suddenly wheeled and retreated upon the main body.
These sallies were kept up through the first watches of the night, with so much perseverance on the part of the enemy, and so much annoyance to the ardent and impatient troops of the patriot army, that General Bacon determined to give way to their martial ardour, and at once storm the strong hold of the enemy.
The plan of battle in this straight-forward mode of warfare was simple in the extreme. Seldom had the Aborigines given their white enemies a chance of testing the relative valour of the two races; and protected as they were even now by a formidable breastwork, General Bacon did not hesitate as to the propriety of trusting to the discipline and skill of his soldiers, and the immense superiority of their arms, against the greater numbers and defensive preparations of the enemy.
The fires within the palisade were apparently flickering upon their dying embers, and an unsteady flash, gleaming at intervals, was the only light shed over the contemplated battle-ground. A profound quiet reigned within the camp of the enemy, indicative to the mind of Bacon of some new treachery or savage scheme. Having warned his officers against these, he despatched mounted scouting parties to hover round both camps, and took every other human precautionagainst surprise; orders were now issued preparatory to a general attack upon the enemy's entrenchments.
By a prompt evolution, his battalions of foot were wheeled into a solid column of attack on the northern side of the stream, while the mounted Cavaliers were stationed as a reserve on the right. The former were marched in compact order, directly up the face of the hill, not a trumpet or a drum disturbing the silence of the funeral-like procession. The various colours of their plumes, as they waved in the night breeze, and the occasional glitter of burnished arms, as a flash of light fell athwart the solid phalanx from the flickering fires above, presented one of the most striking scenes imaginable.
General Bacon assumed the immediate command of his columns in person. He sat upon his impatient charger on the right wing, and examined the ominous appearance of the enemy's camp with intense interest. Not a warrior's head was to be seen above the breastwork as they approached. All was silent, gloomy, and portentous; not a sound was heard, save the measured tramp of his own troops, as they moved through the bushes.
Once indeed he thought he heard the wild shrill scream of a female, very different in its intonations from the harsh voice of the savage squaw. But so many unearthly sights and sounds had haunted both his sleeping and waking hours of late, thathe drove the impression from his mind, to rest with hundreds of others of like import.
When the front lines had arrived within some forty yards of the dark and frowning breastwork, a sudden and momentary check was given to their farther progress. A rushing sound, as of the flight of many birds, and the clatter of Indian arrows against their arms and persons, simultaneously struck upon their senses, followed by the fall of many soldiers, and the short involuntary exclamations of pain, which, from the impulse of the moment, escaped the unfortunate individuals.
Trumpets and drums instantaneously broke the stillness of the march. Their martial notes reverberated over the surrounding solitudes in enlivening peals. The ill-omened birds of night flapped their wings, and swooped through the unsteady lights of the scene in utter dismay at this untimely invasion of their prescriptive dominions. These were quickly followed by a discharge of musketry, poured into the formidable palisade. It was scarcely discharged, however, before Bacon discovered the utter uselessness of such a waste of ammunition. He saw that the breastwork was so constructed, that, while it admitted of the discharge of missiles from within, it afforded a secure protection to its occupants against the musketry of their assailants. In the mean time his soldiers were exposed to the murderous discharges of poisoned arrows.
In this emergency no time was to be lost; placing himself, therefore, at the head of his troops, he ordered the walls to be torn down. These, as before related, were composed of large trees piled one upon another, with their green boughs still protruding in many places over the shallow intrenchment, and the earth excavated from the latter thrown up on the outside against a rude wicker-work of fine bushes, filling up the interstices of the trees. Trumpets sounded the charge, and the columns moved at a quick pace to the onset. Still not a savage head was seen until they had arrived at the very borders of the intrenchment. Here some two hundred of the stoutest and ablest bodied of his soldiers were marched up to the projecting limbs of the largest tree, forming the basis of the breastwork. Bacon saw at a glance that if he could manage to seize hold of these projecting arms and turn the tree across the fosse, it would at once open the way for his mounted troops, and perhaps carry with it some forty or fifty feet of the palisade, and thereby bring the opposing armies face to face. They had already seized the projecting limbs, and were shaking the frail protection of the savages to its very foundations, when simultaneously a thousand lights gleamed over forest, hill, and dale—A thousand voices united their shrill clamours in one deafening yell of savage ferocity. The troops engaged in tearing down the breastwork instinctively loosed their hold, and flew to their arms, as they threw their eyes upward to the spotwhence these blinding lights and deafening noises came. It was but the work of an instant, for little more time were they permitted to examine,—they were called upon to act, and that vigorously, for their own preservation. In a single instant, and apparently at a given signal, the whole of the rude terrace surmounting the fortification literally swarmed with painted warriors, each bearing in his left hand a pine torch, and in the other, a tomahawk, a war-club, or a battle-axe.[6]They sprang from their commanding position into the midst of their assailants, and scattered themselves in every direction through that part of the army already advanced to the breastwork.
Human ingenuity could not have devised a mode of warfare better calculated to suit their numbers, position, time, courage, and limited means of resistance. It at once rendered the mounted troops useless—prevented the colonists from using their fire-arms, because those immediately engaged were at too close quarters, while those at a greater distance were as likely to kill friends as enemies. The savages dealt their murderous blows with wonderous rapidity and precision, and though the hardy planters in the front ranks turned upon them with the butt ends of their muskets, the savages had evidently the advantage. The blazing fagots were often thrust into the very faces of their opponents, and whilewrithing under the confusion and agony of the fire and smoke, they were stricken down like helpless beasts.
Bacon saw the imminent peril of his troops, and though he was at first astounded by the rapidity and daring courage with which the plan was executed, he did not despair, nor yet sit listlessly upon his horse to see his friends and countrymen slaughtered. He saw at a glance too that only the front columns were engaged—that a part of these must now necessarily fall, but he determined at the same time, that their deaths should be dearly avenged, and his remaining troops brought off victorious. He immediately placed himself between the forces already engaged and those rushing to the rescue. The latter he wheeled into line immediately in front of his mounted reserve, thereby changing their front to the flank of the contending parties, while their own right wing rested upon the top of the hill, and the left on the little stream already mentioned. Having completed this evolution to his satisfaction, the mounted Cavaliers were brought round to the position just occupied by the foot, so that they immediately faced the struggling combatants, and the latter were ordered to give way. The retreat was sounded from the brazen mouths of the trumpets over their heads, and Bacon in person and his mounted aids, rode furiously and recklessly among them, crying for them to fall back toward the line stationed on the right.
These various movements were but the work of a few moments. Meantime the painted and ghastly warriors, rendered still more horrible by the flaring lights which they bore in their hands, and by the reeking instruments of death which they swung over their head with such unerring precision, were pouring over the walls upon the devoted band in countless hordes. So intently were they engaged, that the evolutions of their enemies had entirely escaped their attention; and indeed the Colonists themselves, who were fighting hand to hand with the savages, had not observed the movement, until the voices of their commanders urged them to fall back upon the newly formed line. As Bacon had calculated, no sooner were the engaged troops made to understand the orders, and induced to recede, than a partial separation was effected, which was fatal to the Aboriginals. The retreating Colonists were almost immediately under the protection of the line already braced in solid column, and standing to the charge[7]ready for the expected pursuers. A company of the mounted Cavaliers was broken up into squads, and these were actively engaged in hewing down the pursuers, or cutting off their retreat to the protection of the fort. In a short time a complete line of separation was formed between the two armies, save where, here and there, two athletic men of theopposite races, both having lost their arms in the contest, struggled in the death gripe. Here an iron handed mechanist of the city clenched a warrior's throat—the eyes of the victim protruding frightfully from his head in the glaring light, and his tongue hanging from his mouth like that of a rabid animal, until he fell as a lump of clay among the hundreds of both parties who had gone before. There a grim warrior struggled with another, making desperate efforts to reach his knife, which the soldier as constantly struggled to prevent. Yonder among the heaps of slain, lay two of the differing races, fallen to the earth in a mutual but deadly clasp, each holding the other by the throat, until the struggle became one of mere endurance, and, strange to say, the white man generally conquered.
While, however, these desperate personal struggles were occurring, the tide of battle was fast turning against the most numerous party. It was with the greatest difficulty that Bacon could restrain the ardour and impetuosity of the troops stationed in line for the protection of the devoted corps which had led the van, the straggling members of which were momentarily retreating behind the solid bulwark of their countrymen's pikes and bayonets. But no sooner was this duty of humanity performed, and a complete line of demarcation distinctly drawn, than all restraints were removed. A volley of musketry was poured among the scattering savages along the face of the hill, inorder to convince them that hereafter they would be kept at a respectful distance. A simultaneous movement of horse and foot now swept the brow of the hill; the horse charged immediately in front of the palisade, while the infantry drove in the extended line of savages at the point of the bayonet. The most inextricable confusion ensued in the ranks of the red warriors. While the cavalry cut them down on one hand, and the bayonets of the infantry transfixed them on the other, hundreds were tumbling over hundreds as they tumultuously leaped over the palisade. Some hung by the projecting bushes—others fell upon the terrace, and were cast down and trodden under foot by their companions; while multitudes were cut to pieces in making the attempt. In a short time the open field was left in complete possession of the whites—the brow of the hill was literally covered with the wounded and the slain, both of white and red. Yet the battle was not ended; hundreds upon hundreds had escaped within the fort. The savage force amounted at the commencement to something like three thousand warriors of various tribes, and that of the Colonists to about one thousand.[8]Bacon earnestly desired to spare the effusion of human blood, and hazardous as the Indians were as neighbours, either professing friendship or enmity, he resolved to send them a flag of truce and propose a permanent peace upon condition of theirabandoning the Peninsula for ever. He knew that they understood the sacred rights and privileges of that peaceful banner, for it had already been recognised among some of their own tribes. Accordingly a young and promising officer was thrust up to the top of the palisade. He waved his flag and laid his hand upon his heart in token of friendship, and grounded his sword in order to convince them that he came upon a peaceful errand, but instead of sending out their interpreter or prophet, he was treacherously murdered by a tomahawk—thrown some twenty yards by the hand of a warrior, and buried in his brain. All hopes of peace were now abandoned, and Bacon determined to complete the victory which he had commenced, and won thus far at the expense of so many valued lives.
Orders were again issued for tearing down the palisade, while a chosen band of prompt and expert marksmen were stationed at the distance of some thirty yards, to shoot down the savages as they should show their heads above the breastwork. Instead of the infantry being stationed to protect the miners as before, the cavalry formed a column flanking the marksmen, so that they could at a moment's warning, rush in between the descending hordes and the corps engaged in pulling down the barricade.
Again the trees composing the palisade were seized by the projecting limbs, and a sudden wrench brought the earth piled against its outerside tumbling into the ditch beneath, and shook the whole fabric to its foundation. Again an ominous and inexplicable silence prevailed within the enclosure, which was the more remarkable, as there was left no known method of escape, and by their own treachery to the officer who had borne the flag of truce, they were reduced to the alternative of dying in their ditches or desperately cutting their way through the solid phalanx which enclosed them on every side. Hitherto the marksmen stationed in front for the purpose of clearing the terrace of the savages, as they should mount the breastwork from the inside, had little to do. At length a group of savages displayed their painted faces above the barrier, apparently endeavouring to drag some unwieldy burden to the top of the works. They were instantly shot down, but their places were as speedily supplied by others. A faint but piercing shriek rent the air, which promptly arrested the attention of Bacon, Dudley, and young Harrison, who sat upon their horses superintending the operations of the miners, and holding an occasional discourse among themselves. The voice came evidently from a female, and reminded Bacon that he had once before during the night heard a like sound from the same direction. He waved his sword to the marksmen stationed on his left, to withhold their fire, while his own attention and that of his two associates were intently rivetted to the occupation of the group ascending the wall from the other side. At thismoment the large tree which the troops in front had been some time shaking loose, came crashing over upon its limbs, and bringing with it those which had been piled above, thus exposing to view the interior of the fort, but not yet affording an uninterrupted passage for the besiegers. The battalions of foot, however, were tumultuously rushing toward the breach, reckless of the interposing branches and trunks of the prostrate trees, when Bacon, in a voice of thunder commanded them to halt! The very moment the fort gave way a sight was revealed to his eyes, and those of his two comrades, which made the hair rise on end upon their heads, and the blood in their veins run cold with horror. The Indians, who had so long struggled to ascend the fort some twenty or thirty yards from the breach, had at length succeeded, bearing one of the objects which so powerfully arrested the attention of the officers on horseback. Two grim warriors supported between them the body of a woman of the European race, while a third stood behind her, on the top of the palisade with uplifted tomahawk. With one hand he held the weapon suspended over the head of the drooping victim, while with the other, he pointed to the neighbouring breach in the breastwork, with a look and gesture that seemed to say, "advance, and her fate is sealed!" Although the light from the smouldering fires was dim and unsteady, enough was caught of the outlines of this figure to thrill to the very heart-strings of the three spectators; shewas upheld on either side by the mere strength of her guards—her feet seemed to have sunk from under her—but her head was erect and turning with wonderful rapidity from side to side, as she gazed with wild and glaring eyes upon the scene around her. Her fair silken tresses fell unrestrained upon her shoulders or were blown about in fluttering streams, as the unsteady light fell now in broad masses, and then in dim and shadowy rays. Her dress was white, and fell in ample folds around all that was left of a once symmetrical figure. Her features were ashy pale and attenuated to the last degree of human wretchedness, her eye shot forth the wild flashes of a frenzied mind. She was entirely unconscious of her danger, and though she seemed to examine the wild scene around, it was not with fear and trembling. A sickly smile played upon her death-like features, as if she rather took pleasure than suffered pain in these unusual sights, or saw embodied before her in palpable form somewhat of the fleeting phantasmagoria which had so long eluded her senses, yet she was speechless—and so were the late combatants.
A profound and solemn silence prevailed throughout the ranks of both parties. The fate of battle, or the life of an individual, was suspended upon the results of the moment. It was soon interrupted, wildly, fearfully interrupted! The threatened victim burst into a convulsion of frantic laughter, the wild unguided tones of a voice once rich andmusical, were borne along the still night air, and resounded through the dark forest like some unearthly mockery of human merriment. As if a thunderbolt from heaven had instantaneously stricken her dumb she ceased. The sounds of her own voice startled and astonished her; perhaps some dim rememberance of its former tones, as it rose and fell upon the air, floated darkly through her mind. The grim old warriors who supported her, were impressed with awe and fear, and the very executioner was almost overcome with his native superstitious reverence. The events we have just described occupied but a few moments of time,—far less than we have taken to describe them. At this juncture, and while the three stern Indians maintained their posts, Wyanokee sprang upon the terrace, struck the tomahawk from the hands of the ready executioner—pushed him backward over the palisade, and threw herself recklessly upon the unfortunate lady, encircling her with her arms. At the same instant her two astounded countrymen fell lifeless from the terrace, pierced to the heart by the unerring balls of the sharp shooters.
The Colonial army now broke tumultuously into the fort. Here another threatened victim had been held as a suspended pledge over their fires, for the safety of this their last strong hold, but so intense had been the interest excited in behalf of the unfortunate Mrs. Fairfax, that little attention was bestowed upon him. It was none other thanBrian O'Reily. When the breach was made in the fort, he was discovered in the centre of the area, tied fast to a stake driven into the ground. A quantity of resinous pine wood was built high up around his body, and half a dozen torch-bearers stood ready to apply the flame. The report of the muskets had no sooner announced the death of their comrades on the wall, than this pile was fired in a a hundred places. Already the victim began to writhe as the intolerable heat scorched his flesh, and the smoke rushed into his eyes and throat. As the soldiers entered through the breach with Dudley, who had dismounted, at their head, he rushed toward the suffering victim, and, assisted by his followers, hurled the burning brands upon the heads of those who kindled them.
Meanwhile Bacon had also dismounted. He saw that the contest would now be short, and giving his orders to Dudley, he leaped upon the palisade where Wyanokee was vainly endeavouring to support and restrain his former patroness, who had repeatedly and fruitlessly endeavoured to stand erect, and as often had fallen back into the arms of the Indian maiden. As Bacon approached, his whole soul agitated with deep and thrilling emotions, she was sitting upon the wall, forcing herself farther and farther back, like a frighted infant, into the arms of her protectress. Her eyes stared wildly upon the approaching youth, and the lids fell not over the painfully distended orbs. She did not recognise him, even when he approached within afew paces and kindly and soothingly addressed her. At one moment she seemed about to make some reply, but the half formed words died upon her lips—they moved as though she held the desired discourse, but no sound was audible. The wild noise and confusion of the onset, breaking upon her ears, she started up and cried "Hah! see you not that the king's troops put those of the commonwealth to the sword? Behold his giant form weltering in gore! 'Tis gone! It was not he! No, no; I saw not the bloody hand. It was merely one of these puppet warriors dressed out to frighten babes. He lives! did he not tell me so, with his own lips? Do the dead tell the living lies? That were a trick of the devil indeed." Again she burst into a horrible and appalling laugh, fell back into the arms of Wyanokee, and her mortal pains and sorrows were for ever ended.
The long-disputed contest was now drawing to a close; the Indians fought desperately, as long as there was a hope left of repulsing the troops which rushed in at the breach, burning with ardour and roused to indignation by their wanton cruelties; but the superior arms and skill of the Colonists rendered the contest in a short time utterly desperate on the part of the besieged. When farther resistance was put out of their power, by the besiegers closing in upon them on every side, and thus confining their exertions within a narrow space in the centre of the fort, the stern warriorsthrew away their tomahawks and war-clubs, and fell prostrate on their faces. It was a moving sight to behold these hardy veterans of a hundred battles, gradually encompassed by a more skilful and powerful enemy, until they were forced to surrender this last foothold upon the land of their fathers. Their prostrate attitude was by no means intended to express an abject petition for mercy; it was the custom established by their people, and its impulse was utter desperation. They neither desired nor expected quarter, but threw themselves upon the earth, to signify their willingness to meet the tortures of their enemies. When placed under the vigilance of the troops appointed to guard them until dawn, they sat like statues, not a muscle or feature expressing emotion of any kind.
Bacon stood over the body of his late kind and unfortunate patroness, as still and motionless as his own prisoners, contemplating the sad change which a few short days had made upon her mild and benignant features, until reminded by Dudley that he had other duties to perform. The latter approached and informed him that the garrison had surrendered. He heeded him not. He repeated his information, and touched the general upon the shoulder. Bacon started wildly for an instant, but seeing who spoke, a meaningless smile flitted across his features while he answered, "True, true, Dudley, I will attend you in a moment;" and was about to relapse into his former mood, but rousing himself, he issued orders forpitching his own marquée, and then directed that the dead body of Mrs. Fairfax should be borne thither and deposited under its shelter with all due respect. Till now, Wyanokee had sat near the cold and lifeless form. Not a tear was shed nor any other indication given that she had lost a friend, esteemed by her one of the first of the earth. There was, perhaps, just a perceptible expression of wildness and mystery in her steady and abstracted gaze on vacancy, as if in thought she was following the departed spirit to the verdant forests and blossoming meadows of the happy hunting-ground beyond the sky. It is true that she had been somewhat instructed in the doctrines of our religion, but he has made little progress in the study of mankind who does not know that the peculiar opinions—the forms of worship, whether of superstition or religion, which have been infused into the mind in the tender years of infancy, will ever after give a tinge to the views of the recipient. But Wyanokee had by no means renounced the doctrines of her father's worship, and however much her mind may have been worked upon while under the influence of the whites, and of the imposing form and ceremonies of the Established Church, since her abjuration of their friendship, she had imperceptibly lapsed into most of her aboriginal notions.
When the body of Mrs. Fairfax was laid out under the marquée of the commander in chief, and a line of sentinels was established around its limits,Wyanokee was the sole living tenant of the apartment. She sat by the corpse, in precisely the same state which we have before described.
In a very short time from that in which Dudley announced the termination of the conflict to his commanding officer, profound quietness reigned over the fort and brow of the hill, so lately the scene of bloodshed and strife, save where it was disturbed by the movements of those engaged in burying the dead, and rescuing the wounded who lay suffering under the weight of their dead comrades.
Never had such a battle been fought in Virginia, either as regarded the number of Indians engaged, the consequences depending on the result, or the sanguinary nature of the conflict itself. It was the last struggle for supremacy between the whites and the Indians in the Peninsula.
General Bacon apprehending that the rising sun might disclose to view the approaching columns of the army under Sir William Berkley, had ordered the dismantled fort to be refitted in such a manner as to afford some protection to his exhausted troops. The trees were again brought round to their former position, and the limbs by which themselves had gained entrance lopped off. The sun, however, rose above the horizon without betraying any sign, either of the expected army, or of the mounted scouts whom he had sent out just before the battle. This latter circumstance gave him not a little uneasiness, as he could account for their protracted absence in no other way than by supposing that they had fallen into Sir William's hands.
Most of the troops were yet indulging in repose, after the extraordinary fatigues of the night, and were cheerfully indulged by their officers, in the hope that they would rise with renewed ardour and courage for the expected attack.
At about ten o'clock in the morning, the troops having been roused from their slumbers, and partaken of a hasty breakfast, the sentinel pacingto and fro upon the top of the walls, announced the approach of the expected foe. Bacon and his staff quickly mounted the breastwork to examine the number and appointments of his confident enemy; but to his great joy and relief, the approaching troops proved to be his own missing scouts. He mounted his charger and galloped over the intervening ground in order to learn the cause of their strange absence; so impatient was he, not only on that score, but likewise to learn tidings from his pursuers. He very soon met the advancing horsemen, who, upon perceiving their general, halted in the road. The information communicated by the commander of the party was not less surprising to Bacon than was the account of the battle to the officer, who had been absent from its dangers and its glories. The latter stated, that after having ridden about twenty miles on the previous night, they suddenly came upon the encampment of Sir William's army, but having discovered their fires in sufficient time, had avoided their pickets. They scouted round his camp for a considerable length of time, endeavouring to learn something of his intended movements—the number of his soldiers, and their disposition toward themselves, but found no means of gaining information. At length they narrowly escaped being discovered and intercepted by a foraging party, and having discovered that the troopers composing it, had come last from the house of a planter, living not far from theencampment, they resolved to present themselves before him, candidly explain their business, and throw themselves upon his patriotism for any information which he might possess. They did so, and were fortunate enough to find that the planter was not only able, but willing to give them important information, and was anxious for the success of Bacon's expedition—his own son being engaged in it. The amount of his information in few words, was, that Sir William Berkley had that very evening received an express from Jamestown, urgently summoning him back to the capital, with all his forces. That two influential citizens residing in the counties south of Jamestown, by name Walklate and Ingraham,[9]having heard of his expedition to cut off the return of General Bacon and his army, had immediately raised a force of horse and foot scarcely inferior to his own, and were marching upon the capital. Nor was this all the unfavourable news communicated by the express: it farther stated that the House of Burgesses, then in session, (contrary to the promise of Sir William to dissolve it,) were engaged upon some resolutions, very injurious to the reputation and farther influence of the Governor, and that they had already approved of the proceedings of General Bacon, and resolved to require the Governor to sign his commission as commander in chief of the colonial forces, besides having transmitted to theministry at home, testimonials of his patriotism, talents, and bravery.
The foraging party from the army of Sir William, had farther informed the planter, that it was the intention of his excellency to break up his camp by dawn of day, and return by forced marches, to the protection of the capital.
At this juncture, the Colony of Virginia presented the singular spectacle of three distinct and independent armies, assembled at one time. One at the falls, commanded by Bacon—another in the Peninsula, commanded by Sir William Berkley, and the third in the south, commanded by Generals Ingraham and Walklate. The first and last were nothing more than disciplined assemblages of volunteers from among the people, while that under the command of the Governor in person, was composed in part of veteran regular troops, and partly of loyal subjects, called together by the urgent appeals of him who had so long been the honoured organ of his majesty's authority in the colony.
When General Bacon returned to the camp, and had assembled his associates in command, and communicated to them the foregoing particulars, he also announced to them his intention of leaving the temporary command of the army with his next in rank, and repairing in person immediately to the capital.
His views having met the approbation of the council of officers, the sloop which had broughtup the marine part of the expedition was promptly put in readiness, and forty chosen men embarked for his escort.[10]
His unfortunate valet and devoted adherent, Brian O'Reily, although much enfeebled by long confinement and want of wholesome food, was, at his own earnest request, added to the number. So urgent had been the various claims upon the time of General Bacon, that he had not yet heard Brian's account of his sufferings and privations.
Before embarking he issued the strictest orders for the safety, comfort, and protection of the numerous prisoners, and of Wyanokee in particular. He directed that she should be conveyed in the same wagon, then preparing for the purpose of transporting the remains of Mrs. Fairfax to Jamestown.
Before taking leave of his comrades in arms, he entered the marquée containing the honoured remains. The sentinel was walking his solitary rounds of monotonous duty, with solemn aspect. Strange that the ceremonies attending the laying out and decently guarding this lifeless body should more powerfully impress this sturdy soldier than all the heaps of slain piled into one common grave during the night.
Bacon entered the marquée alone. There sat the last daughter of the kings of Chickahominy, in precisely the attitude in which he had seen her five hours before. She was the sole mourner atthe feet of her whom in life she had most honoured. He was powerfully affected by the sight of many little personal ornaments, not worn on the previous night, but which had been collected by Wyanokee and placed conspicuously upon the corpse. He was struck, too, with the delicate consideration of the Indian maiden in these native observances in honour of the dead. Conspicuous among the things valued by her friend while living, was a small silver clasped pocket bible; it was spread open upon the neat folds of her white garments, surrounded with a profusion of wild flowers, such as he had often known her to transplant into her own garden.
But time pressed, and urgent circumstances called him to the capital; he therefore lifted the covering (a white handkerchief) from her face, and gazed for the last time upon those features impressed upon his heart and memory from infancy. Almost involuntarily he drew from his doublet the diminutive locket, reassured his heart by a momentary comparison of the features—and then forced himself away and proceeded to the bank of the river, where the sloop already spread her sails to the ready breeze.
The prisoners taken at the battle of the Falls, or of the Bloody Run as it was more frequently called, were placed in the centre of the army, with the exception of Wyanokee, and the fort burnt to the ground, after which the Colonial troops took up their line of march for the capital.Toward this central point three separate armies were now advancing, while the House of Burgesses were passing a series of resolutions in which all three were deeply interested. A more important juncture in the affairs of the Colony had never occurred, and the approach of the various hostile parties toward the capital excited the deepest anxiety in all the reflecting inhabitants of the city.
The courier announcing the successful issue of Bacon's campaign against the tribes of the Peninsula, which had so long disturbed the peace and tranquillity of the planters, was received with general manifestations of joy and expressions of gratitude to the youthful commander of the expedition.
By a resolution of the assembly, the State House was ordered to be illuminated, and the inhabitants generally were requested to follow the example. These, with other voluntary demonstrations of rejoicing on the part of the citizens, were about to be carried into execution, when the vanguard of Sir William Berkley's army, commanded by the sturdy old knight in person, arrived at the gates of the bridge. When he was informed of the cause of this unusual measure, and of the resolutions which had been passed by the House of Burgesses, both in regard to himself and his young rival in the popular favour, he burst into a most ungovernable fit of rage—threw his sword into the river, and swore he would embark for England the next morning. He was no soonerdissuaded from the rash step, than he resolved upon an expedient equally inconsiderate. It was nothing less than to march his army into the streets of the city, and thence, with a chosen band of followers, disperse the assembly at the point of the bayonet. It was with the greatest difficulty, and after long efforts, that his more discreet friends were enabled to dissuade him from this step likewise, nor even then until they had compromised the affair, by agreeing that he should issue a proclamation with the same view, and forthwith issue writs for a new election. Accordingly, having marched his troops into the heart of the city, and encamped them immediately round the State House and public grounds, he carried his threats into execution.