(_Virginia, 1676_)
I
There was great excitement in that part of the American colony of
Virginia where Edmund Porter lived. It was in the month of May, 1676,
and the place was the country just below the settlement of Henricus, on
the James River, as one went down-stream toward the capital city of
Jamestown. The Porters had a plantation not very far from Curles, which
was the name of the place where their friend Nathaniel Bacon lived; and
Nathaniel Bacon seemed to be the centre of the exciting events that were
taking place.
Nathaniel Bacon was a young man, of a good family in England, who had
come out to Virginia with his wife, and settled at Curles on the James.
He had another estate farther up the river, a place called "Bacon
Quarter Branch," where his overseer and servants looked after his
affairs, and to which he could easily ride in a morning from his own
home, or go in his barge on the James, unless he objected to being rowed
seven miles around the peninsula at Dutch Gap. He was popular with his
neighbors, and seemed as quiet as any of them until trouble with the
Indians in the spring of that year made him declare that he was going to
see whether the governor would protect the farms along the river, and if
the governor wouldn't, then he had a mind to take the matter into his
own hands.
Now Edmund, who was a well-grown boy of sixteen, wanted to be wherever
there was excitement, and so spent as much time as he could at Curles.
He was out in the meadow back of the house, watching one of the men
break in a colt, when a messenger came with news that Indians had
attacked Mr. Bacon's other estate; killed his overseer and one of his
servants, and were carrying fire and bloodshed along the frontier. The
news spread like wild-fire, as news of Indian raids always did, for
there was nothing else so fear-inspiring to the white settlers. Edmund
jumped on his pony, and rode home as fast as he could to tell his
father. Then father and son, each taking a gun, with powder-horn and
bullet-pouch, dashed back to Nathaniel Bacon's. Other planters had
already gathered there, armed and ready to ride on the track of the
Indians. There was much talk and debate; some wanted to know whether
Governor Berkeley, down the river at Jamestown, would send soldiers to
protect the plantations farther up the James; others wondered whether
the governor, who was not very prompt or ready in dealing with the
Indians in this far-off part of the colony, would be willing to
commission the planters to take the war into their own hands. In the
midst of all the talk Bacon himself appeared, and the crowd of horsemen
called on him to take command, it being known he had often said openly
that he intended to protect Curles and his other farms from the
redskins.
Bacon agreed to lead his neighbors, but told them he thought it would be
best to send a messenger to Sir William Berkeley, and ask for the
governor's commission. A man was sent at once down the river to
Jamestown, and the neighbors rode home to wait for the governor's
answer. Next afternoon they met again at Curles, and heard the answer
Sir William Berkeley sent. It was very polite, and spoke highly of
Nathaniel Bacon and his neighbors. It further said that the times were
very troubled, that the governor was anxious to keep on good terms with
the Indians, and was afraid that the outcome of an attack on them might
be dangerous, and urged Mr. Bacon, for his own good interests, not to
ride against them. He did not actually refuse the commission that Bacon
had asked for, but, what amounted to the same matter, he did not send
it.
The horsemen were very angry. Sir William Berkeley, a man seventy years
old, and safe at Jamestown, might care little what the Indians did, but
the men whose plantations were threatened cared a great deal. Again they
urged Bacon to lead them, and he, nothing loath now that he had set the
matter fairly before the governor, jumped into his saddle and put
himself at the head of the troop. All were armed, some had fought
Indians before; in those days such a ride was not uncommon. A few boys
rode with their fathers, and among them Edmund Porter.
Bacon's band rode fast, and were marching through the woods of Charles
City when a messenger came dashing after them. The company stopped to
hear him. He said that he came from Sir William, and that Sir William
ordered the band to disperse, on pain of being treated as rebels against
his authority. The message made it clear that they would ride on at
their peril.
This threat cooled the ardor of some, but not of many. Bacon snapped his
fingers at the governor's messenger, and rode on, with fifty-seven other
followers. They were not the men to leave their frontiers unguarded, no
matter what Sir William might call them.
Bacon led on to the Falls, and there he found the Indians entrenched on
a hill. Several white men went forward to parley, but as they advanced
an Indian in ambush fired a shot at the rear of the party, and their
captain gave the word to attack. Edmund and a few others formed a
rear-guard by the river, while the rest waded through a stream; climbed
the slope; stormed and set fire to the Indian stockade, and so blew up a
great store of powder that the red men had collected. The rout of the
marauding Indians was complete, and when the fighting was over one
hundred and fifty of them had been killed, with only a loss of three in
Bacon's party. Victory had been won, the Indians were driven back to the
mountains, leaving the plantations along the James safe, for some time
at least. With a train of captives, Bacon and his neighbors rode
homeward. The Porters went to their plantation, and the others scattered
to their houses farther down the river. Edmund and his father thought
the excitement was over, and everybody in the neighborhood had only
words of the highest praise for the gallant Nathaniel Bacon.
Sir William Berkeley, however, was very angry, and he was a man of his
word. He had sent his messenger to say that if Bacon marched against the
Indians he should consider Bacon a rebel and the men who rode with him
rebels as well. He meant to be master in Virginia, and therefore as soon
as the news of what was called the Battle of Bloody Run came to him he
made his plans to teach all rebellious colonists a lesson. He called for
a company of officers and horsemen and set out hot foot, in spite of his
seventy years, to capture the upstart Bacon and make an example of him.
But Sir William had not ridden far when disquieting news reached him.
The people along the coast had heard how Bacon had sent to the governor
for a commission and had been refused, and they also knew how he had
fought the Indians in spite of the governor's warning. They were proud
of him; they liked his dash and determination, and they meant to stand
by him, no matter what Sir William might have to say.
The governor, who had always had his own way in Virginia, was thoroughly
furious now. There were rebels before him, and rebels behind him, for
that was the name he gave to all who dared to dispute his orders. But
with the lower country in a blaze he didn't dare attend to Nathaniel
Bacon then, so he ordered his troop of horse to countermarch, and
galloped back to Jamestown as fast as he could go.
When he reached his capital he found it in a tumult; word came to him
that all the counties along the lower James and the York Rivers had
rebelled. It looked as if the colony were facing a civil war like the
one that had broken out in England thirty years before. Then, realizing
that this was no time for anger, but for cool, calm words, Sir William
mended his manners. He didn't pour oil on the colonists' fire; instead
he met their demands half-way. When the leaders of the colonists
protested that the forts on the border were more apt to be a danger to
them than a help, Sir William agreed that the forts should be
dismantled. When the leaders said that the House of Burgesses, which was
the name of the Virginia parliament, no longer represented the people,
but in fact defied the people's will, Sir William answered that the
House of Burgesses should be dissolved and the people given a chance to
send new representatives to it. And the governor kept his word after the
angry planters had gone back to their homes. He didn't want such a civil
war in Virginia as the one that had cost King Charles the First his
throne in England.
Sir William might have forgiven Nathaniel Bacon's disobedience, and
forgotten all about it, but the owner of Curles Manor bobbed up into
public notice again almost immediately. As soon as orders were sent out
through the colony that new elections were to be held for the House of
Burgesses, as the governor had promised, Bacon declared that he was a
candidate to represent Henrico County. He was so popular now that when
the election was held he was chosen by a very large vote. Many men
voting for him who had no right to vote at all, according to the law,
which said that only freeholders, or men who owned land, should have the
right to vote in such a case. So now the man who had been called a rebel
by the governor was going to Jamestown to sit in the House of Burgesses
and help make laws for the colony. Many a man might have hesitated to do
that, but not such a good fighter as Mr. Bacon.
The new burgesses were summoned to meet at Jamestown early that June,
and they traveled there through the wilderness in many ways. Some rode
on horseback, fording or swimming the numerous streams and rivers, for
bridges were few, some came by coach, and some went down the river by
barge or by sloop, the easiest way for those who lived near the James.
Bacon chose the last way, and on a bright morning in June left his house
at Curles, and with thirty neighbors sailed down the river. Mr. Porter
and Edmund went with him, for the father had often promised his son to
take him to Jamestown, and this seemed a good opportunity.
The voyage started pleasantly, but ended in disaster. Sir William now
considered himself doubly flouted by this man from Curles, and vowed
that the rebel Bacon should never sit in the new House of Burgesses. As
the sloop came quietly sailing down to Jamestown a ship that was lying
at anchor in front of the town trained its cannon on the smaller vessel,
and the sheriff, who was on board the ship, sent men to the sloop to
arrest Bacon and certain of his friends. There was no use in resisting;
the cannon could blow the sloop out of the water at a word. Bacon
surrendered to the sheriff's men, and he and the others who were wanted
were landed and marched up to the State House, while Edmund Porter and
the others rowed themselves ashore, wondering what was going to happen
to their friend.
Governor Berkeley was at the State House when Bacon was brought in. Each
of the two men was quick-tempered and haughty, but they managed to keep
their anger out of their words. Sir William said coldly, "Mr. Bacon,
have you forgot to be a gentleman?"