VENGEANCE WITH A VENGEANCE.
The longer life, the more offence;
The more offence, the greater pain;
The greater pain, the less defence;
The less defence, the greater gain:
The loss of gain long ill doth try,
Wherefore, come death and let me die.
--WYAT.
Bacon still tarried at the Greenspring manor-house after the destruction
of Jamestown, till a messenger came with the alarming intelligence that
a strong force of royalists was advancing from the Potomac.
With his little army of dauntless patriots, he marched to face this new
danger, for there was little more to fear from Sir William Berkeley, who
remained at the kingdom of Accomac, and who would only find smoking
ruins at Jamestown.
"You do not look well," said Robert to the patriot at whose side he
rode. "Your cheek is flushed, and I believe you have a fever."
Bacon, who had contracted a disease in the trenches about Jamestown,
was very irritable. His excitable nature took fire at the slightest
provocation; but with Robert he was ever reasonable.
"I shall be better soon," he answered. "When once we have met these
devils and had this fight over with, I will be well; but I shall free
Virginia, or die in the effort."
"Have a care for your health."
"I shall live to see the tyrant more humbled than when he fled
Jamestown."
Bacon was angry and more eager to fight as his illness increased than
when well. They crossed the lower York in boats at Ferry Point and
marched into Gloucester, where he made his headquarters at Colonel
Warner's and issued his "Mandates" to the Gloucester men to meet him at
the court house and subscribe to the Middle Plantation oath. They
hesitated; but as Colonel Brent was reported to be advancing at the head
of a thousand men, Bacon ordered the drums beat, mustered his men, and
they set out toward the Rappahanock in high spirits.
On that afternoon Bacon was occasionally irritable; at other times he
became hilarious, and at others stupid. Robert, who rode at his side,
saw that he was burning with fever, and he was glad that night when
they camped.
"Spread a tent for the general, for he is sick," said Robert. The men
could not realize how sick he was. Camp fires blazed. Brent was but a
few miles away, and his forces were deserting him by scores and coming
over to Bacon, who was not thought to be dangerously ill. When Robert
entered his tent at ten that night, he found him sitting up giving some
directions for the quartering of new troops.
"Are you better, general?" he asked.
"I am very tired. I shall lie down and sleep. I will be over this in the
morning."
As long as Robert lived, he remembered those words. He knew the general
was in a raging fever, yet he little thought it would prove fatal. He
went to his own quarters on that October night and sought repose. It was
an hour before daylight, when Mr. Drummond and Mr. Lawrence awoke him.
"General Bacon is dead," they said.
"What! dead?" cried Robert.
"Yes, dead and buried. We thought it best to bury him in the forest
where his enemies could not find him. Brent is crushed; his men have
deserted him, and all are with us. The general died very suddenly in the
arms of Major Pate."
It was the purpose of the friends of liberty to keep the death of Bacon
a secret, and there is some dispute in history as to where and when he
died. News of this character cannot be suppressed. It came out, and the
republicans of Virginia began to lose heart from that hour, while the
royalists' hopes increased.
Another general was elected to fill the place made vacant by Bacon.
Drummond, Stevens, Cheeseman, or Lawrence might have organized the army
and led them to victory; but the foolish frontiersmen chose, instead of
either of these wise men, a grotesque personage named Ingram, who had
been a rope dancer, and had no more qualifications for so important a
position than an organ grinder, as the result soon proved. He was unable
to hold them together. Colonel Hansford, the most daring young officer
in Bacon's whole army, was captured at the home of his sweetheart, and
Berkeley, to whom he was taken, decreed that he should be hung.
"Thomas Hansford," cried Berkeley, "I will quickly repay you for your
part in this rebellion!"
Colonel Hansford answered, "I ask no favor but that I may be shot like a
soldier and not hanged like a dog."
The governor replied, "You are to die, not as a soldier, but as a
rebel."
Hansford was a native American and the first white native (say some
historians) that perished on the gibbet. On coming to the gallows
he said:
"Take notice, I die a loyal subject and a lover of my country."
Terror-stricken, the followers of Bacon began to desert the new general.
In a few skirmishes that followed, they were worsted and broke up into
small bands.
Hugh Price was foremost among the royalists searching for the rebels. He
hoped to find his wife's son and bring him to the gibbet, for Price
hated Robert with a hatred that was demoniacal. Giles Peram took
courage, and mounting a horse, joined the troopers in galloping about
the country and capturing or shooting the rebels, who, now that their
spirits were broken, seldom made any resistance.
One day at sunset Hugh Price and Giles Peram suddenly came upon a
wild-eyed, haggard young man, mounted upon a jaded steed. He had slept
on the ground, for his uncombed hair had leaves still sticking to it,
and his clothes were faded, soiled and torn. The evenings were cold, it
being late in October, and the fugitive was looking about for a place to
sleep. At a glance, both recognized him as Robert Stevens. They were
armed with loaded pistols, while Robert, though he had weapons in his
holsters, was out of powder.
"There he is, Giles; now slay him!" cried the stepfather.
Robert realized his danger, and, with his whip, lashed his horse to a
run. There came the report of a pistol from behind and a bullet whistled
above his head.
"Come on, Giles; he is unarmed," cried Mr. Price.
"Oh, are you quite sure?" cried Giles.
"I am sure. He is out of ammunition."
"That is extraordinary, very extraordinary." Mr. Peram, who had been
lingering behind, with this assurance urged his horse alongside the
stepfather.
"He is heading for the river!" cried Price.
"Can he cross?"
"No; his horse could scarcely swim it. Try a shot at him."
Giles Peram, who was as cruel as he was cowardly, drew one of his
pistols, as he galloped along over the grassy plain, and cocked it.
It is no easy matter even for an experienced marksman to hit a running
object from the back of a flying horse. Giles, after leaning first to
one side, then to the other, and squinting along the barrel of his
pistol, shut both eyes and pulled the trigger. When the smoke cleared
away Robert was seen sitting bolt upright in his saddle.
"He heads for the river. By the mass, I believe he is going to plunge
into it!" cried Price.
The river was in view, and the young fugitive was riding toward it at
full speed. His pursuers pressed their tired steeds in his rear, and
Robert knew his only chance for life was to swim the stream. He uttered
an encouraging shout to his horse as that noble animal sprang far out
into the water. Robert's hat fell off and floated near the shore; but
his horse swam straight across. Hugh Price, with an oath, drew his
remaining pistol, galloped to the water's edge and fired. The ball
struck four or five feet to Robert's left and in front of him, splashing
up a jet of water where it plunged in. At the instant Hugh fired, Giles
Peram's horse, unable to check his speed, would have rushed into the
river, had not Price seized the bit and stopped him. Giles, unprepared
for so sudden a halt, went over his horse, head first into the water.
Being a poor swimmer and greatly frightened, he would no doubt have
drowned, had not Hugh Price gone to his rescue and pulled him out. By
the time Giles Peram was rescued and placed safely on shore, Robert
Stevens had crossed the river and was ascending the bank.
It was so dark that they could just see the outline of the fugitive,
before he disappeared into the wood. Giles Peram was shivering from his
sudden plunge and begged to go to camp, so Hugh Price, sympathizing with
him, gave up the man hunt, and returned to the nearest camp of
royalists. "We will have him yet. He shall hang!" said Mr. Price, by way
of consoling his friend for his ducking.
They went to York, where Berkeley had established himself, and the
latter commenced a reign of terror and vengeance, which has made him
infamous in history as the most bloodthirsty tyrant of America. Major
Cheeseman was captured with Captains Wilford and Farlow. The two
captains were hung without trial, and Cheeseman was thrown into prison.
When Edmund Cheeseman was arraigned before the governor and was asked
why he engaged in Bacon's wicked scheme, before he could answer, his
young wife stepped forward and said:
"My provocation made my husband join in the cause for which Bacon
contended. But for me, he had never done what he has done. Since what is
done," she sobbed, falling on her knees in an attitude of supplication,
with her head bowed and face covered with her hands, "was done by my
means, I am most guilty; let me bear the punishment, let me be hanged,
but let my husband be pardoned."
The angry governor gazed on her for a moment with eyes which danced in
fury; then he cried:
"Away with you!" adding a brutal remark at which manhood might well
blush. Mrs. Cheeseman fainted, and her husband was carried away to the
gallows. [Footnote: Authorities differ as to the death of Cheeseman.
Some say he was hanged, others that he died in prison.]
So fearful, at first, was the cruel old baron that some of his intended
victims might escape through a verdict of acquittal by a jury, that men
were taken from the tribunal of a court-martial directly to the gallows,
without the forms of civil law.
For a time after Berkeley was established at York, Ingram still made a
show of resistance, but accepted the first terms offered and
surrendered. Only two prominent leaders remained uncaptured. These were
Lawrence and Drummond. Berkeley swore he could not sleep well until they
were hanged. The surrender of Ingram destroyed even the faintest hope of
reorganizing the patriot army, and Mr. Drummond, deserted by his
followers, was captured in the Chickahominy swamp and hurried to York to
the governor, who greeted him with bitter irony.
"Mr. Drummond," he said, "you are very welcome! I am more glad to see
you than any man in Virginia. Mr. Drummond, you shall be hanged in
half an hour."
"What your honor pleases," Mr. Drummond boldly answered. "I expect no
mercy from you. I have followed the lead of my conscience and did what
I might to free my countrymen from oppression."
He was condemned at one o'clock and hanged at four. By a cruel decree of
the governor, his brave wife Sarah was denounced as a traitress and
banished with her children to the wilderness, where, for a while, they
were forced to subsist on the charity of friends almost as poor as they.
Berkeley's rage was not yet fully satisfied. The thoughtful Mr. Lawrence
had taken care of himself, for he knew but too well what to expect,
should he be captured. Weeks passed and winter was advanced before
Berkeley heard of him. Then from one of the upper plantations came the
report that he and four other desperadoes with horses and pistols had
marched away in snow ankle-deep. Some hoped they had perished in trying
to swim the head-waters of some of the rivers; but they really traveled
southward into North Carolinia, where they were safely concealed in the
wilderness.
Berkeley proved himself a tiger, as he had proved himself a ruffian in
insulting Mrs. Cheeseman. The taste of blood maddened him. He tried and
executed nearly every one on whom he could lay his hands. Virginia
became a vast jail or Tyburn Hill. Four men were hung on the York,
several executed on the other side of the James River, and one was
hanged in chains at West Point. In February, 1677, a fleet with a
regiment of English troops arrived, and a formal commission to try
rebels was organized, of which Berkeley was a member. This commission
determined to kill Bland, who had been captured in Accomac. The friends
of the prisoner in England had procured and sent over his pardon; but
the commissioners were privately informed that the Duke of York
(afterward James II.) had sworn that "Bacon and Bland must die," and
with this intimation of what would be agreeable to his royal highness,
Bland was hung. It was a revel of blood. In almost every county, gibbets
rose and made the wayfarer shudder and turn away at sight of their
ghastly burdens. In all, twenty-three persons were executed, and Charles
II., disgusted with the tyranny of Berkeley, declared:
"That old fool has hanged more men in that naked country than I have
done for the murder of my father."
Shortly after the execution of Mr. Edmund Cheeseman, and before the
arrival of the English regiment, the first British troops ever brought
to Virginia, Mr. Hugh Price, who was very active in capturing rebels,
one evening brought in a miserable, half-starved, half-frozen young man,
whom he had found lying in the snow, too feeble to fly or resist. Mr.
Price was especially delighted with the capture, as the captive was
Robert Stevens.
Old black Sam recognized the prisoner, and when he had been thrust in
jail to await his trial, the old negro mounted a swift horse and rode
all night across the country to the James River. Then, stealing a boat
at one of the plantations, he rowed down the stream until he came to the
_Despair_, on board of which was Mrs. Price, her daughter and Ester.
Sam's story caused instantaneous action, and next morning at daylight
Governor Berkeley was amazed to see the strange ship anchored before his
quarters, as near to shore as she could be brought. There was something
particularly menacing in the vessel, with her double rows of guns
pointed at the shore and the marines all on deck under arms. Berkeley
was alarmed. A boat was lowered, and Sir Albert St. Croix came ashore.
He hurried at once into the governor's presence.
"Sir Albert, I am pleased to see you; yet I do not understand that
demonstration," said the governor, who, like all tyrants, was a coward.
"Surely, you do not mean any hostilities toward me."
"That depends on circumstances. Have you a young man named Stevens
prisoner?"
"Yes."
"Has he been tried?"
"He has and has been condemned."
"To hang?"
"Yes."
"Has the sentence been executed?" asked Sir Albert, trembling with
dread.
"Not yet."
"Then your life is saved."
"But he will be hanged at ten o'clock."
"He shall not!"
"Why, who are you, that dare defy me?"
"Governor Berkeley," said Sir Albert, in a voice trembling with
earnestness, as he led him to the window. "Look you on yon ship and see
the guns pointed at your town. But harm a hair of Robert Stevens' head,
and, by the God we both worship, I will blow you into eternity!"
Governor Berkeley sank in his seat, trembling with rage and fear. Must
he let one go, and above all Robert Stevens, whom he hated? The old man
continued:
"You have already hanged my friends Drummond and Cheeseman, and were I a
man who sought revenge, I would destroy you, as I have it in my power
to do."
At this moment the door opened, and Hugh Price, accompanied by Giles
Peram, entered.
"The scaffold is all ready to hang Robert Stevens," said Mr. Price.
"Ah! marry, it is, governor, and I trow he will make a merry sight
dangling from it," put in Giles, a smile on his face.
Sir William Berkeley's face was deathly white; but he made no response.
Mr. Price, who feared his wife's son might yet escape, urged:
"Governor, the scaffold is ready. Come, give the order for the
execution."
Sir Albert coolly drew from his coat pocket a legal looking document
and, laying it before the governor, said in a commanding tone:
"Sign, sir."
"What is it?"
"A pardon for Robert Stevens."
"No, no, no!" cried Hugh Price, rushing forward to interfere.
"Back, devil, lest I forget humanity!" cried Sir Albert, and, seizing
Hugh Price by the throat, he hurled him against the wall. For a moment,
the cavalier was stunned, then, rising, he snatched his sword from
its sheath.
Sir Albert was not one whit behind in drawing his own blade, and, as
steel clashed against steel, Giles Peram shouted:
"Oh, Lordy! I will be killed!" and ran from the room. There was but one
clash of swords, then Price's weapon flew from his hand, and he expected
to be run through; but Sir Albert coolly said:
"Begone, Hugh Price! Your life is in my hands; but I do not want it.
You are not prepared to die. Get thee hence, lest I forget myself."
Price left the room, and Sir Albert, turning to Berkeley, asked:
"Have you signed the pardon, governor?"
"Here it is."
"Now order his release."
Half an hour later, Robert, who expected to suffer death on the
scaffold, was liberated.
"I owe this to you, kind sir," he cried, seizing Sir Albert's hand.
"I promised to save you, and I always keep my promise."
"Do you know aught of my mother, sister, and Ester?"
"All are safe aboard my vessel."
"Why do you take such interest in us, Sir Albert? You are like a father
to me."
"Do you remember your father?"
"I can just remember him. He was a noble man with a kind heart. Did you
know him?"
"Yes; he was my friend. I knew him well."
"Would to heaven he had remained; our misery would not have been so
great."
"We are all in the hands of inexorable fate; but let us talk no more.
You will have a full pardon from Charles II. soon, and then that old
fool will not dare to harm you. Not only will you be pardoned but Ester
Goffe as well."
"How know you this?" asked Robert.
"I have sent to the king for the pardons, and he will deny me nothing."
"Then I shall wed Ester and return to my father's plantation to pass my
days in peace."
"Do so, Robert, and ever remember that whatever you have, you owe it to
your unfortunate father. God grant that your life may be less stormy
than his."
When they went on board the _Despair_, there was a general rejoicing.
"Heaven bless you, our deliverer!" cried Rebecca, placing her arms about
the neck of Sir Albert and kissing him again and again.
Years seemed to have rolled away, and once more the father felt the
soft, warm arms of his baby about his neck. The ancient eyes grew dim,
and tears, welling up, overflowed and trickled down the furrowed cheeks.