Hansford: A Tale of Bacon's Rebellion Part 30

Sir Edward c.o.ke once alluded to the fable, that there was not a bird that flitted through the air, but contributed by its donations to complete the eagle's nest. And so liberty, whose fittest emblem is the eagle, has its home provided and furnished by many who are unworthy to enjoy the home which they have aided in preparing. Admit even, if you please, that General Bacon is one of these unclean birds, we cannot refuse the contribution which he brings in aid of the glorious cause which we maintain."

"Aye, but he is like, with his vaulting ambition, to be the eagle himself," returned Virginia; "and to say truth, although I have great confidence in your protection, I feel like a lone dove in his talons, and would wish for a safer home than in his eyrie."

"You need fear no danger, be a.s.sured, dearest Virginia," said Hansford, "either for yourself or your mother. It is a part of his plan to send one of the ladies under our charge into the city, to apprise the garrison of our strange manuvre; and I have already his word, that your mother and yourself will be the bearers of this message. In a few moments, therefore, your dangers will be past, and you will once more be in the arms of your n.o.ble old father."

"Oh thanks, thanks, my generous protector," cried the girl, transported at this new prospect of her freedom. "I can never forget your kindness, nor cease to regret that I could ever have had a doubt of your honour and integrity."

"Oh forget that," returned Hansford, "or remember it only that you may acknowledge that it is often better to bear with the circ.u.mstances which we cannot control, than by hasty opposition to lose the little influence we may possess with those in power. But see the moonlight reflected from the steeple of yonder church. We are within sight of Jamestown, and you will be soon at liberty. And oh! Virginia," he said sorrowfully, "if it should be decreed in the book of fate, that when we part to-night we part forever, and if the name of Hansford be defamed and vilified, you at least, I know, will rescue his honour from reproach-and one tear from my faithful Virginia, shed upon a patriot's grave, will atone for all the infamy which indignant vengeance may heap upon my name."

So saying, he spurred his horse rapidly onward, until he overtook Bacon, who, with the precious burden under his care, as usual, led the way. And a precious burden it might well be called, for by the light of the moon the reader could have no difficulty in recognizing in the companion of the young general of the insurgents, our old acquaintance, Mrs. Temple.

In the earlier part of their journey she had by no means contributed to the special comfort of her escort-now, complaining bitterly of the roughness of the road, she would grasp him around the waist with both arms, until he was in imminent peril of falling from his horse, and then when pacified by a smoother path and an easier gait, she would burst forth in a torrent of invective against the cowardly rebels who would misuse a poor old woman so. Bacon, however, while alike regardless of her complaints of the road, the horse, or himself, did all in his power to mollify the old lady, by humouring her prejudices as well as he could; and when he at last informed her of the plan by which she and her daughter would so soon regain their liberty, her temper relaxed, and she became highly communicative. She was, indeed, deep in a description of some early scenes of her life, and was telling how she had once seen the bonnie young Charley with her own eyes, when he was hiding from the pursuit of the Roundheads, and how he commended her loyalty, and above all her looks; and promised when he came to his own to bestow a peerage on her husband for his faithful adherence to the cause of his king. The narrative had already lasted an hour or more when Hansford and Virginia rode up and arrested the conversation, much to the relief of Bacon, who was gravely debating in his own mind whether it was more agreeable to hear the good dame's long-winded stories about past loyalty, or to submit to her vehement imprecations on present rebellion.

The young general saluted Virginia courteously as she approached, expressing the hope that she had not suffered from her exposure to the night air, and then turned to Hansford, and engaged in conversation with him on matters of interest connected with the approaching contest.

But as his remarks will be more fully understood, and his views developed in the next chapter, we forbear to record them here. Suffice it to say, that among other things it was determined, that immediately upon their arrival before Jamestown, Mrs. Temple and Virginia, under the escort of Hansford, should be conducted to the gate of the town, and convey to the Governor and his adherents the intelligence of the capture of the wives of the loyalists. We will only so far antic.i.p.ate the regular course of our narrative as to say, that this duty was performed without being attended with any incident worthy of special remark; and that Hansford, bidding a sad farewell to Virginia and her mother, committed them to the care of the sentinel at the gate, and returned slowly and sorrowfully to the insurgent camp.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

"How yet resolves the Governor of the town?

This is the latest parle we will admit.

If I begin the battery once again, I will not leave the half achieved Harfleur, Till in her ashes she lie buried."

_King Henry V._

And now was heard on the clear night air the shrill blast of a solitary trumpet breathing defiance, and announcing to the besieged loyalists, the presence of the insurgents before the walls of Jamestown. Exhausted by their long march, and depressed by the still gloomy prospect before them, the thinned ranks of the rebel army required all the encouraging eloquence of their general, to urge them forward in their perilous duty.

Nor did they need it long. Drawing his wearied, but faithful followers around him, the young and ardent enthusiast addressed them in language like the following:

"SOLDIERS,"

"Animated by a desire to free your country from the incursions of a savage foe, you have crowned your arms with victory and your lives with honor. You have annihilated the Indian power in Virginia, and in the waters of the brook which was the witness of your victory, you have washed away the stains of its cruelty. The purple blood which dyed that fatal stream, has even now pa.s.sed away; Yet your deeds shall survive in the name which you have given it. And future generations, when they look upon its calm and unstained bosom, will remember with grateful hearts, those brave men who have given security to their homes, and will bless your patriot names when they repeat the story of b.l.o.o.d.y Run.

"For this you have been proclaimed traitors to your country and rebels to your king. Traitors to a country within whose borders the Indian war whoop has been hushed by your exertions! Rebels to your king for preserving Virginia, the brightest jewel in his crown, from inevitable ruin! But though you have accomplished much, much yet remains undone. Then nerve your stout hearts and gird on your armour once more for the contest. Though your enemies are not to be despised, they are not to be feared. _They_ fight as mercenaries uninspired by the cause which they have espoused. _You_ battle for freedom, for honor and for life. Your freedom is threatened by the oppressions of a relentless tyrant and a subservient a.s.sembly. Your honor is a.s.sailed, for you are publicly branded as traitors. Your lives are proscribed by those who have basely charged your patriotism as treason, and your defence of your country as rebellion. Be not dismayed with the numbers of your foes. Think only that it is yours to lessen them. Remember that Peace can never come to you, though you woo it never so sweetly. You must go to it, even though your way thither lay through a sea of blood. You will find me ever where danger is thickest. I will share your peril now and your reward hereafter."

Inspired with new ardour, by the words and still more by the example of their leader, the soldiers proceeded to the task of constructing a breastwork for their defence. Bacon himself at imminent risk to his person, drew with his own hands the line for the entrenchment, while the soldiers prepared for themselves a secure defence from attack by a breastwork composed of felled trees, earth, and brushwood. It was a n.o.ble sight, I ween, to see these hardy patriots of the olden time, nearly sinking under fatigue, yet working cheerfully and ardently in the cause of freedom-to hear their axes ringing merrily through the still night air, and the tall forest trees falling with a heavy crash, as they were preparing their rude fortifications; and to look up on the cold, silent moon, as she watched them from her high path in heaven, and you might almost think, smiled with cold disdain, to think that all their hopes would be blasted, and their ardour checked by defeat, while she in her pride of fulness would traverse that same high arch twelve hundred times before the day-star of freedom dawned upon the land.

Meantime the besieged loyalists having heard with surprise and consternation, the story of Mrs. Temple and Virginia, were completely confounded. Fearing to fire a single gun, lest the ball intended for their adversaries might pierce the heart of some innocent woman, they were forced to await with impatience the completion of the works of the insurgents. The latter had not the same reason for forbearance, and made several successful sorties upon the palisades, which surrounded the town, effecting several breaches, and killing some men, but without loss to any their own party. Furious at the successful stratagems of the rebels and fearing an accession to their number from the surrounding country, Sir William Berkeley at length determined to make a sally from the town, and test the strength and courage of his adversaries in an open field. Bacon, meanwhile, having effected his object in securing a sufficient fortification, with much courtesy dismissed the captive ladies, who went, rejoicing at their liberation, to tell the story of their wrongs to their loyal husbands.

The garrison of Jamestown consisting of about twenty cavalier loyalists, and eight hundred raw, undisciplined recruits, picked up by Berkeley during his stay in Accomac, were led on firmly towards the entrenchments of the rebels, by Beverley and Ludwell, who stood high in the confidence of the Governor, and in the esteem of the colony, as brave and chivalrous men. Among the subordinate officers in the garrison was Alfred Bernard, rejoicing in the commission of captain, but recently conferred, and burning to distinguish himself in a contest against the rebels. From their posts behind the entrenchment, the insurgents calmly watched the approach of their foes. Undismayed by their numbers, nearly four times as great as their own, they awaited patiently the signal of their general to begin the attack. Bacon, on his part, with all the ardour of his nature, possessed in an equal degree the coolness and prudence of a great general, and was determined not to risk a fire, until the enemy was sufficiently near to ensure heavy execution. When at length the front line of the a.s.sailants advanced within sixty yards of the entrenchment, he gave the word, which was obeyed with tremendous effect, and then without leaving their posts, they prepared to renew their fire. But it was not necessary. Despite the exhortations and prayers of their gallant officers, the royal army, dismayed at the first fire of the enemy, broke ranks and retreated, leaving their drum and their dead upon the field. In vain did Ludwell exhort them, in the name of the king, to return to the a.s.sault; in vain did the brave Beverley implore them as Virginians and Englishmen not to desert their colors; in vain did Alfred Bernard conjure them to retrieve the character of soldiers and of men, and to avenge the cause of wronged and insulted women upon the cowardly oppressors. Regardless alike of king, country or the laws of gallantry, the soldiers ran like frightened sheep, from their pursuers, nor stopped in their flight until once more safely ensconced behind their batteries, and under the protection of the cannon from the ships. The brave cavaliers looked aghast at this cowardly defection, and stood for a moment irresolute, with the guns of the insurgents bearing directly upon them. Bacon could easily have fired upon them with certain effect, but with the magnanimity of a brave man, he was struck with admiration for their dauntless courage, and with pity for their helplessness. Nor was he by any means anxious to pursue them, for he feared lest a victory so easily won, might be a stratagem of the enemy, and that by venturing to pursue, he might fall into an ambuscade.

Contenting himself, therefore, with the advantage he had already gained, he remained behind his entrenchment, determined to wait patiently for the morrow, before he commenced another attack upon the town.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

"Let's leave this town; for they are hairbrained slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager.

Of old I know them; rather with their teeth The walls they'll tear down, than forsake the siege."

_King Henry VI._

It was very late, but there were few in Jamestown on that last night of its existence that cared to sleep. Those who were not kept awake by the cares of state or military duties, were yet suffering from an intense apprehension, which denied them repose. There was "hurrying to and fro,"

along Stuart street, and "whispering with white lips," among the thronging citizens. Ever siding with the stronger party, and inclined to attribute to the besieged Governor the whole catalogue of evils under which the colony was groaning, many of the lower cla.s.ses of the citizens expressed their sympathy with Nathaniel Bacon, and only awaited a secret opportunity to desert to his ranks. A conspiracy was ripening among the soldiery to open the gates to the insurgents, and surrender at once the town and the Governor into their hands-but over-awed by the resolute boldness of their leader, and wanting in the strength of will to act for themselves, they found it difficult to carry their plan into execution.

Sir William Berkeley, with a few of his steady adherents and faithful friends, was anxiously awaiting, in the large hall of the palace, the tidings of the recent sally upon the besiegers. Notwithstanding the superior numbers of his men, he had but little confidence either in their loyalty or courage, while he was fully conscious of the desperate bravery of the insurgents. While hope whispered that the little band of rebels must yield to the overwhelming force of the garrison, fear interposed, to warn him of the danger of defection and cowardice in his ranks. As thus he sat anxiously endeavouring to guess the probable result of his sally, heavy footsteps were heard ascending the stairs.

The heart of the old Governor beat thick with apprehension, and the damp drops wrung from him by anxiety and care, stood in cold beads upon his brow.

"What news?" he cried, in a hoa.r.s.e, agitated voice, as Colonel Ludwell, Robert Beverley, and Alfred Bernard entered the room. "But I read it in your countenances! All is lost!"

"Yes, Governor Berkeley," said Philip Ludwell, "all is lost! we have not even the melancholy consolation of Francis, 'that our honour is preserved.' The cowardly hinds who followed us, fled from the first charge of the rebels, like frightened hares. All attempts to rally them were in vain, and many of them we understand have joined with the rebels."

As the fatal tidings fell upon his ear, Berkeley pressed his hand to his forehead, and sobbed aloud. The heart of the brave old loyalist could bear no more-and all the haughty dignity of his nature gave way in a flood of bitter tears. But the effect was only transient, and nerving himself, he controlled his feelings once more by the energy of his iron will.

"How many still remain with us?" he asked, anxiously, of Ludwell.

"Alas! sir, if the rumour which we heard as we came hither be true-none, absolutely none. There was an immense crowd gathered around the tavern, listening to the news of our defeat from one of the soldiers, and as we pa.s.sed a loud and insulting cry went up of "Long live Bacon! and down with tyranny!" The soldiers declared that they would not stain their hands with the blood of their fellow-subjects; the citizens as vehemently declared that the town itself should not long harbour those who had trampled on their rights. Treason stalks abroad boldly and openly, and I fear that the loyalty of Virginia is confined to this room."

"Now, Heaven help me," said Berkeley, sadly, "for the world has well nigh deserted me. And yet, if I fall, I shall fall at my post, and the trust bestowed upon me by my king shall be yielded only with my life."

"It were madness to think of remaining longer here," said Beverley; "the rebels, with the most consummate courage, evince the most profound prudence and judgment. Before the dawn they will bring their cannon to bear upon our ships and force them to withdraw from the harbour, and then all means of escape being cut off, we will be forced to surrender on such terms as the enemy may dictate."

"We will yield to no terms," replied Berkeley. "For myself, death is far preferable to dishonour. Rather than surrender the trust which I have in charge, let us remain here, until, like the brave senators of Rome, we are hacked to pieces at our posts by the swords of these barbarians."

"But what can you expect to gain by such a desperate course," said old Ballard, who, though not without a sufficient degree of courage, would prefer rather to admire the heroism of the Roman patriots in history, than to vie with them in their desperate resolution.

"I expect to retain my honour," cried the brave old Governor. "A brave man may suffer death-he can never submit to dishonour."

"My honoured Governor," said Major Beverley, whose well-known courage and high-toned chivalry gave great effect to his counsel; "believe me, that we all admire your steady loyalty and your n.o.ble heroism. But reflect, that you gain nothing by desperation, and it is the part of true courage not to hazard a desperate risk without any hope of success.

G.o.d knows that I would willingly yield up my own life to preserve unsullied the honour of my country, and the dignity of my king; but I doubt how far we serve his real interests by a deliberate sacrifice of all who are loyal to his cause."

"And what then would you advise?" said the Governor, in an irritated manner. "To make a base surrender of our persons and our cause, and to grant to these insolent rebels every concession which their insolence may choose to demand? No! gentlemen, sooner would William Berkeley remain alone at his post, until his ashes mingled with the ashes of this palace, than yield one inch to rebels in arms."

"It is not necessary," returned Beverley. "You may escape without loss of life or compromise of honour, and reserve until a future day your vengeance on these disloyal barbarians."

Berkeley was silent.

"Look," continued Beverley, leading the old loyalist to the window which overlooked the river; "by the light of dawn you can see the white sails of the Adam and Eve, as she rests at anchor in yonder harbor. There is still time to escape before the rebels can suspect our design. Once upon the deck of that little vessel, with her sails unfurled to this rising breeze, you may defy the threats of the besiegers. Then once more to your faithful Accomac, and when the forces from England shall arrive, trained bands of loyal and brave Britons, your vengeance shall then be commensurate with the indignities you have suffered."

Still Berkeley hesitated, but his friends could see by the quiver of his lip, that the struggle was still going on, and that he was thinking with grim satisfaction of that promised vengeance.

"Let me urge you," continued Beverley, encouraged by the effect which he was evidently producing; "let me urge you to a prompt decision. Will you remain longer in Jamestown, this nest of traitors, and expose your faithful adherents to certain death? Is loyalty so common in Virginia, that you will suffer these brave supporters of your cause to be sacrificed? Will you leave their wives and daughters, whom they can no longer defend, to the insults and outrages of a band of lawless adventurers, who have shown that they disregard the rights of men, and the more sacred deference due to a woman? We have done all that became us, as loyal citizens, to do. We have sustained the standard of the king until it were madness, not courage, further to oppose the designs of the rebels. Beset by a superior force, and with treason among our own citizens, and defection among our own soldiers-with but twenty stout hearts still true and faithful to their trust-our alternative is between surrender and death on the one hand, and flight and future vengeance on the other. Can you longer hesitate between the two? But see, the sky grows brighter toward the east, and the morning comes to increase the perils of the night. I beseech you, by my loyalty and my devotion to your interest, decide quickly and wisely."

"I will go," replied Berkeley, after a brief pause, in a voice choking with emotion. "But G.o.d is my witness, that if I only were concerned, rebellion should learn that there was a loyalist who held his sacred trust so near his heart, that it could only be yielded with his life-blood. But why should I thus boast? Do with me as you please-I will go."

No sooner was Berkeley's final decision known, than the whole palace was in a state of preparation. Hurriedly putting up such necessaries as would be needed in their temporary exile, the loyalists were soon ready for their sudden departure. Lady Frances, stately as ever, remained perhaps rather longer before her mirror, in the arrangement of her tire, than was consistent with their hasty flight. Virginia Temple scarcely devoted a moment for her own preparations, so constantly was her a.s.sistance required by her mother, who bustled about from trunk to trunk, in a perfect agony of haste-found she had locked up her mantle, which was in the very bottom of an immense trunk, and finally, when she had put her spectacles and keys in her pocket, declared that they were lost, and required Virginia to search in every hole and corner of the room for them. But with all these delays-ever incident to ladies, and old ones especially, when starting on a journey-the little party were at length announced to be ready for their "moonlight flitting." Sadly and silently they left the palace to darkness and solitude, and proceeded towards the river. At the bottom of the garden, which ran down to the banks of the river, were two large boats, belonging to the Governor, and which were often used in pleasure excursions. In these the fugitives embarked, and under the muscular efforts of the strong oarsmen, the richly freighted boats scudded rapidly through the water towards the good ship "Adam and Eve," which lay at a considerable distance from the sh.o.r.e, to avoid the guns of the insurgents.

Alfred Bernard had the good fortune to have the fair Virginia under his immediate charge; but the hearts of both were too full to improve the opportunity with much conversation. The young intriguer, who cared but little in his selfish heart for either loyalists or rebels, still felt that he had placed his venture on a wrong card, and was about to lose.