Hansford: A Tale of Bacon's Rebellion Part 7

"Ask this old man," returned Mamalis. "They all went to Jamestown yesterday, did they not?" she asked in English of Giles, who replied, in a trembling voice,

"Yes, my ma.s.sa, dey has all gone to Jimson on yestiddy."

"And I a Werowance!" said the young man proudly, in his own language.

"Spirits of Powhatan and Opechancanough, the name of Manteo shall live immortally as yours. His glory shall be the song of our race, and the young men of his tribe shall emulate his deeds. His life shall be brilliant as the sun's bright course, and his spirit shall set in the spirit land, bright with unfading glory."

Then turning away with a lofty step, he proceeded to rejoin his companions.

The stratagem was successful, and Manteo, the bravest, the n.o.blest of the braves, succeeded after some time in persuading them to desist from their destructive designs. In a few moments, to the delight of the little besieged party, the Indians had left the house, and were soon buried in the deep forest.

"Thanks, my brave, generous girl," said Temple, as Mamalis, after the success of her adventure, entered the room. "To your presence of mind we owe our lives."

"But I told a lie," said the girl, looking down; "I said you had gone to make Manteo the Werowance of the Pamunkeys."

"Well, my girl, he shall not want my aid in getting the office. So you, in effect, told the truth."

"No, no; I said you had gone. It was a lie."

"Ah, but, Mamalis," said Virginia, in an encouraging voice, for she had often impressed upon the mind of the poor savage girl the nature of a lie, "when a falsehood is told for the preservation of life, the sin will be freely forgiven which has accomplished so much good."

"Ignatius Loyola could not have stated his favourite principle more clearly, Miss Temple," said Bernard, with a satirical smile. "I see that the Reformation has not made so wide a difference in the two Churches, after all."

"No, Mr. Bernard," said old Temple, somewhat offended at the young man's tone; "the stratagem of the soldier, and the intrigue of the treacherous Jesuit, are very different. The one is the means which brave men may use to accomplish n.o.ble ends; the other is the wily machinations of a perfidious man to attain his own base purposes. The one is the skilful fence and foil of the swordsman, the other the subtle and deceitful design of the sneaking snake."

"Still they both do what is plainly a deception, in order to accomplish an end which they each believe to be good. Once break down the barrier to the field of truth, and it is impossible any longer to distinguish between virtue and error."

"Well," said Mrs. Temple, "I am the last to blame the bridge which carries me over, and I'll warrant there is not one here, man or woman, who isn't glad that our lives have been saved by Mamalis's falsehood-for I have not had such a fright in all my days."

FOOTNOTES:

[8] G.o.ds.

[9] Guns.

[10] Heaven.

[11] The good spirit of the Indians.

[12] The pipe of peace.

[13] When a peace was concluded a tree was planted, and the contracting parties declared that the peace should be as long lived as the tree.

[14] The friend or benefactor.

[15] The Werowance, or chief of a tribe, was appointed by the Governor, and this mode of appointment gave great dissatisfaction to the Indians.

CHAPTER X.

"Religion, 'tis that doth distinguish us From their bruit humour, well we may it know, That can with understanding argue thus, Our G.o.d is truth, but they cannot do so."

_Smith's History._

As may be well imagined, the Indian attack formed the chief topic of conversation at Windsor Hall during the day. Many were the marvellous stories which were called to memory, of Indian warfare and of Indian ma.s.sacres-of the sad fate of those who had been their victims, the tortures to which their prisoners had been subjected, and the relentless cruelty with which even the tender babe, while smiling in the face of its ruthless murderer, was dashed pitilessly against a tree. Among these narratives, the most painful was that detailing the fate of George Ca.s.sen, who, tied to a tree by strong cords, was doomed to see his flesh and joints cut off, one by one, and roasted before his eyes; his head and face flayed with sharp mussel sh.e.l.ls, and his belly ripped open; until at last, in the extremity of his agony, he welcomed the very flames which consumed him, and rescued his body from their cruelty.[16]

Uncle Giles, whose premature action had so nearly ruined them all, and yet had probably been the cause of their ultimate safety, was the hero of the day, and loud was the laugh at the incident of the gun and kitchen chimney. The old man's bruises were soon tended and healed, and the grateful creature declared that "Miss Ginny's _lineaments_ always did him more good than all the doctors in the world;" and in truth they were good for sore eyes.

It was during the morning's conversation that Bernard learned from his host, and from Virginia, the intimate relations existing between Mamalis and the family at Windsor Hall. Many years before, there had been, about two miles from the hall, an Indian village, inhabited by some of the tribe of the Pamunkeys. Among them was an old chieftain named Nantaquaus,[17] who claimed to be of the same lineage as Powhatan, and who, worn out with war, now resided among his people as their patriarchal counsellor. In the hostilities which had existed before the long peace, which was only ended by the difficulties that gave rise to Bacon's Rebellion, the whole of the inhabitants of the little village had been cut off by the whites, with the exception of this old patriarch and his two orphan grand-children, who were saved through the interposition of Colonel Temple, exerted in their behalf on account of some kindness he had received at their hands. Grateful for the life of his little descendants, for he had long since ceased to care for the prolongation of his own existence, old Nantaquaus continued to live on terms approaching even to intimacy with the Temples. When at length he died, he bequeathed his grand-children to the care of his protector. It was his wish, however, that they should still remain in the old wigwam where he had lived, and where they could best remember him, and, in visions, visit his spirit in the far hunting ground. In compliance with this, his last wish, Manteo and Mamalis continued their residence in that rude old hut, and secured a comfortable subsistence-he by fishing and the chase, and she by the cultivation of their little patch of ground, where maize, melons, pompions, cushaus, and the like, rewarded her patient labour with their abundant growth. Besides these duties, to which the life of the Indian woman was devoted, the young girl in her leisure moments, and in the long winter, made, with pretty skill, mats, baskets and sandals, weaving the former curiously with the long willow twigs which grew along the banks of the neighbouring York river, and forming the latter with dressed deer skin, ornamented with flowers made of beads and sh.e.l.ls, or with the various coloured feathers of the birds.

Her little manufactures met with a ready sale at the hall, being exchanged for sugar and coffee, and other such comforts as civilization provides; and for the sale of the excess of these simple articles over the home demand, she found a willing agent in the Colonel, who, in his frequent visits to Jamestown, disposed of them to advantage.

Despite these a.s.sociations, however, Manteo retained much of the original character of his race, and the wild forest life which he led, bringing him into communication with the less civilized members of his tribe, helped to cherish the native-fierceness of his temper. Clinging with tenacity to the superst.i.tions and pursuits of his fathers, his mind was of that sterile soil, in which the seeds of civilization take but little root. His sister, without having herself lost all the peculiar features of her natural character, was still formed in a different mould, and her softer nature had already received some slight impress from Virginia's teachings, which led her by slow but certain degrees towards the truth. His was of that fierce, tiger nature, which Horace has so finely painted in his nervous description of Achilles,

"Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer!"

While her's can be best understood by her name, Mamalis, which, signifying in her own language a young fawn, at once expressed the grace of her person and the gentleness of her nature.

Such is a brief but sufficient description of the characters and condition of these two young Indians, who play an important part in this narrative. The description, we may well suppose, derived additional interest to Bernard, from its a.s.sociation with the recent exciting scene, and from the interest which his heart began already to entertain for the fair narrator.

But probably the most amusing, if not the most instructive portion of the morning's conversation, was that in which Mrs. Temple bore a conspicuous part. The danger being past, the good woman adverted with much pride to the calmness and fort.i.tude which she had displayed during the latter part of the trying scene. She never suspected that her conduct had been at all open to criticism, for in the excess of her agitation, she had not been aware, either of her manner or her language.

"The fact is, gentlemen," she said, "that while you all displayed great coolness and resolution, it was well that you were not surrounded by timid women to embarra.s.s you with their fears. I was determined that none of you should see my alarm, and I have no doubt you were surprised at my calmness."

"It was very natural for ladies to feel alarm," said Hansford, scarcely able to repress the rising smile, "under circ.u.mstances, which inspired even strong men with fear. I only wonder that you bore it so well."

"Ah, it is easy to see you are apologizing for Virginia, and I must confess that once or twice she did almost shake my self-possession a little by her agitation. But poor thing! we should make allowance for her. She is unaccustomed to such scenes. I, who was, you may say, cradled in a revolution, and brought up in civil war, am not so easily frightened."

"No, indeed, Bessy," said old Temple, smiling good humouredly, "so entirely were you free from the prevailing fears, that I believe you were unconscious half the time of what was going on."

"Well, really, Colonel Temple," said the old lady, bristling up at this insinuation, "I think it ill becomes you to be exposing me as a jest before an entire stranger. However, it makes but little difference. It won't last always."

This prediction of his good wife, that "It," which always referred to her husband's conduct immediately before, was doomed like all other earthly things to terminate, was generally a precursor to hysterics. And so she shook her head and patted her foot hysterically, while the Colonel wholly unconscious of any reasonable cause for the offence he had given, rolled up his eyes and shrugged his shoulders in silence.

Leaving the good couple to settle at their leisure those little disputes which never lasted on an average more than five minutes, let us follow Virginia as she goes down stairs to make some preparation for dinner. As she pa.s.sed through the hall on her way to the store-room, she saw the graceful form of Mamalis just leaving the house. In the conversation which ensued we must beg the reader to imagine the broken English in which the young Indian expressed herself, while we endeavor to give it a free and more polite translation.

"Mamalis, you are not going home already, are you," said Virginia, in a gentle voice.

"Yes," replied the girl, with a sigh.

"Why do you sigh, Mamalis? Are you unhappy, my poor girl?"

"It is very sad to be alone in my poor wigwam," she replied.

"Then stay with us, Manteo is away, and will probably not be back for some days."

"He would be angry if he came home and found me away."