IN VIRGINIA
SINCE the capital of Virginia had been removed from Jamestown to
Williamsburg, and since the Governor’s palace and the Government House
had been established there, it had become the center of fashion in the
colony. Just now the Court was in session, and the Council sitting, and
Governor Spottiswood was holding court every Thursday.
The day was rather close and warm, but there was an unusually large
representation of the provincial aristocracy present. It was still
not late in the afternoon, but there had already been a good many
arrivals, and the gabbling sound of talking filled the assembly room.
The Governor, where he stood at the end of the room, was the center of
a group of gentlemen who were clustered about him and in his immediate
vicinity. It was almost difficult for one to get past them to pay
respect to his Excellency. A group, perhaps, would move a little
aside to make way for newly arriving ladies and gentlemen, but such
as were now coming in could only get to the Governor with a sense of
discomfort and of being crowded. In parts of the room more distant from
the Governor the talk was, perhaps, more of social matters, but near
his Excellency the knots of men discussed things relating to colonial
affairs.
Just then the talk was about a renewed trouble with pirates, who had
begun again to infest the mouth of the bay and the North Carolina
sounds.
It was just about this time that Blackbeard had broken his pardon and
was again stopping vessels sailing between Virginia and the Carolinas.
The _Pearl_ and the _Lyme_, ships of war, were then lying at Jamestown,
and some of the officers had come over to pay their respects at the
palace. Some of them were standing near listening to Councillor Page,
who was just then speaking of the latest depredations of Blackbeard.
“He was lying down at Ocracock,” said Mr. Page. “I had a sloop coming
from the Tar River with some shingle thatch for my new warehouse. Well,
the villains stopped her and came aboard of her. They overhauled her
cargo, and I do believe if they’d known ‘t was for me they would have
thrown it all overboard. But Williams said naught about that, and so
they did not know whose ‘t was. There was nothing on board to serve
the villains’ turn, and they might just as well have let the sloop
go; but no, there that wretch, Blackbeard, held her for nearly two
days, so that she might not give the alarm of his being there to any
incoming vessels. Williams—he was the captain of my sloop—Williams
said that while he was lying there under the pirates’ guns, he himself
saw Blackbeard stop and levy upon some nine vessels of different sorts,
rummaging all over their cargoes. He said it was chiefly rum and cloth
the villain was after. Williams said that ‘t was reported the villains
held every boat that came through the inlet, and would neither let them
go in nor come out, but made ‘em all lie at anchor under his guns. He
hath two armed sloops now and a crew altogether of some forty or sixty
men, and twice or thrice as many more to call upon if he chooses.”
Lieutenant Maynard, of the _Lyme_, was standing by, listening to the
talk.
“Why, zounds!” said he, “Why then do you people here in the
provinces put up with such a rascal as this Teach or Blackbeard
or what-ye-call-him? I’d blow him out of the water, were I in his
Excellency’s place. Aye, I would fit out an expedition and send it down
there and blow the villain clean out of the water and have done with
him.”
“What was that?” said the Governor, turning around smiling toward the
speaker. “Tut, tut! Lieutenant, that shows how little you men of war
know about civil affairs. How could I, as Governor of Virginia, fit out
an expedition and send it down into North Carolina. Ocracock is under
Governor Eden’s jurisdiction, not under mine, and ’tis his place to
move against pirates in the waters of his own province. They’re inland
waters, and under the jurisdiction of North Carolina.”
“Well, your Excellency,” said Lieutenant Maynard, “to be sure I know
naught about the law, and only about fighting. But if a villain stood
at my neighbor’s door and stopped my own people from coming out and
going in upon my business, and robbed them, By Zounds! your Excellency,
I would have it out with him, even if I had to chase him into my
neighbor’s house to do it.” The Governor laughed, and the little group
around him joined in the laughter. Then his Excellency turned again to
meet some new-comers who made their way toward him through the circle
surrounding him.
“I do declare,” said Mr. Dillworth, “methinks Governor Eden of North
Carolina is as bad as ever was Fletcher of New York at his worst times.
‘Twas through this Blackbeard that poor Ned Parker was murdered—the
first young gentleman of Virginia. ’Tis currently known everywhere—and
yet Eden grants the villain the King’s pardon as soon as he asks for
it. ’Tis said his Excellency—Eden, I mean—has more than once had his
share of the booty that the pirates have taken. Why, would you believe
it, the villain pirate was only last year up here at Norfolk, coming
and going as he pleased, carrying his Majesty’s pardon in his pocket
and flaunting it in the eyes of everybody. Well, if ever we catch him,
now he hath broken his pardon, ‘t will be a short enough shrift he’ll
get of it, I’ll promise him.”
“How is Colonel Parker now?” asked Mr. Page.
“He’s about well now,” said Mr. Cartwright, a cousin of Colonel
Parker’s. “I was at Marlborough last week, and his gout seems to have
fairly left him.”
“Methinks he hath never been the same man since poor Master Ned was
murdered,” said Mr. Dillworth. “I never saw anybody so broken by
trouble as he was at that time.”
“His daughter, Miss Nelly, is a great beauty, I hear,” said Lieutenant
Maynard.
“The girl is well enough,” said Mr. Cartwright briefly.
A group of some half dozen ladies and two gentlemen were gathered at
one of the open windows, into which the warm air blew widely. One
of the gentlemen was Mr. Harry Oliver, a young man about eighteen
years old. He wore his own hair curled and hanging to his shoulders,
and he put it back with his hand every now and then as he talked. He
showed his white teeth when he smiled, and his large, dark eyes moved
restlessly hither and thither.
“Yonder comes Dick Parker,” said he suddenly.
“Why, so it is,” said Miss Peggy Oliver. They all looked toward the new
comer. “Upon my word,” she continued, “he is a man I can’t abide for
the life of me. As proud, haughty a man as ever I saw. He turns me to a
block of ice whenever I am near him, and I can’t find a word to say for
myself.”
“Why, Peggy,” said Oliver, “that, then, must be why you can’t abide
him,” and thereupon the group broke into a laugh.
Mr. Richard Parker, who had just come into the room, was standing
quietly waiting to speak to the Governor. He did not try to push
his way through the circle that surrounded his Excellency, and for
a while nobody saw him. His handsome, florid face, surrounded by a
fine powdered wig, looked calmly and steadily in the direction of
the Governor. He stood quite impassive, waiting an opportunity to go
forward when he would not have to push his way through the crowd.
Presently some one saw him and spoke to the others, and they made way
for him almost as with deference. He went forward calmly and paid his
respects in a few brief words. He spoke with the Governor for a little
while, or rather the Governor spoke to him, and he replied. All the
time the Governor was speaking, Mr. Parker was looking steadily and
composedly around the room, glancing back toward his interlocutor every
now and then to reply. Presently there was a pause, and then at last
Mr. Richard Parker bowed and withdrew to a little distance.
“Why, only look at him now,” said Peggy Oliver, “even his Excellency is
not good enough for him.”
“Well, to be sure, Peggy,” said one of the elder ladies, “if Mr. Parker
is proud, he hath enough to make him proud when you think what a great
man of fashion he hath been in his day. ‘T is not every man who hath
had the luck to be a friend of the Duke of Marlborough. ‘T is a wonder
to me that he should ever have come here to the provinces, seeing what
a great man of fashion he was at home in England.”
The two gentlemen burst out laughing. “Why,” said Will Costigan, “for
that matter, ‘t was Hobson’s choice betwixt Virginia or the debtor’s
prison, madam.”
“They say old Dunmore Parker when he was alive used to send a fortune
every year to England for him to spend,” said one of the ladies.
“Tom told me t’ other day that he one time played a game of piquet
for four days on end. ‘T was with a Frenchman; a nobleman—I forget
his name—who was a prisoner at Malplaquet. Indeed it must have been
mightily hard upon him after his father died to find that all the
estate, except the Dunmore Plantation, was left to his brother.”
Just then Mr. Parker approached the group and the talk ceased. He
nodded to Oliver and then passed by and stood at a little distance
looking about him. Presently Harry Oliver edged over toward him. “How
d’ ye do, Parker,” said he.
Mr. Parker turned his eyes toward the young man with an answering “How
d’ ye do, Oliver.”
There was a moment’s pause. “That’s a prodigious handsome piece of lace
you’ve got there, Parker,” said the young man, looking at Mr. Parker’s
cravat.
“‘T is good enough,” said Mr. Parker briefly.
“Is it Flemish?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We don’t come across any such lace as that here in Virginia,” said the
young man.
“Don’t you?”
Oliver stood for a while in silence. Almost unconsciously he assumed
somewhat of the older man’s manner, standing with his hands behind him
and looking indifferently around the room. “Tell me, Parker,” said he,
“do you go down to Parrot’s to-morrow?”
Again Mr. Parker looked slowly toward him. “To Parrot’s?” said he.
“What d’ ye mean?”
“Why, have you not heard?” exclaimed the young man eagerly, glad
to have found something that promised to interest the other. “Why,
to-morrow there’s to be fought seven as fine mains as ever were pitted
in Virginia. There are to be six mains fought between the Gentlemen of
Surry and the Gentlemen of Prince George’s. Will Costigan yonder hath
brought his red cock over from t’ other side of the Bay. The bird hath
been all the talk for six months past. He offers to pit it against the
winner of all the mains. I heard say, too, that Ned Williamson purposes
to bring down a three-year horse that he hath broke, and will run it in
the afternoon, perhaps, against Tom Lawson’s Duke of Norfolk.”
Mr. Parker listened impassively. “I had not heard anything about it,”
said he; “I only came down yesterday. What time do you go down to
Parrot’s?” he asked presently.
“To-morrow morning. I’m going to stay at my uncle Tom’s over night.
Will you go along?”
“Why,” said Mr. Parker, “I hadn’t thought of it before. Maybe I will
go.”
“I start in the morning,” said Oliver, eagerly; “I’ll come over for you
if you’ll go.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Parker, “you can come over, and if I find I can,
I’ll go with you. Is not that Mistress Denham and her daughter coming
into the room?”
Then Mr. Parker moved away across the room to speak to the two Maryland
ladies.
* * * * *
It was early twilight of the next evening when Mr. Richard Parker
and Harry Oliver rode up to Parrot’s house. The house itself was the
largest of a cluster of unpainted frame buildings that stood just
beyond a clearing, overlooking the bay from a low, sandy bluff. A
number of outbuildings and sheds surrounded it to the rear. Three pine
trees stood not far from the low porch that sheltered the doorway,
and a dozen or more horses stood clustered around the shaggy resinous
trunks. Near by them lounged a group of men, black and white, talking
together with now and then the break of a laugh. They fell silent, and
some of them took off their hats as Mr. Parker and Mr. Oliver rode up
to the door and alighted. Mr. Oliver nodded in reply, but Mr. Parker
paid no attention to any one. “Where is Parrot?” asked the younger man.
“He’s inside, Mr. Oliver,” answered one of the group. “They were at
cards awhile ago, sir, and I reckon they be at it yet.”
The two gentlemen went directly into the house. Tom Parrot’s wife met
them in the hallway, where was a scattered heap of hats and riding
coats. From the room to one side came the deep sound of men talking,
and then a sudden outburst of voices. “I be mortal proud to see ye,
gentlemen,” said Mrs. Parrot, dropping them a courtesy. “Indeed, Mr.
Parker, you do honor us in coming. You’ll find Tom and the gentlemen in
yonder.”
“You go ahead, Oliver,” said Mr. Parker.
Another loud burst of voices greeted the two as they entered the room,
so dense with tobacco smoke that at first they could see nothing at
all. The room was full of the smell of rum. A great bowl of punch stood
on the side-table, and there was a continual tinkle and jingle of
glasses. Tom Parrot pushed back his chair noisily and rose to meet the
new comers. He was a little stout man with a red face. It was redder
than ever now, and bedewed with drops of sweat. He had laid aside his
wig, and his bald head glistened with moisture. He wore no coat, his
waistcoat was opened, and his breeches loosened at the waistband. He
wiped his face and head with his shirt sleeve as he spoke. “Why, Mr.
Parker,” said he, “who’d a-thought to see you! You be mighty welcome,
Mr. Parker. Won’t you take a hand at the game, sir? Tim (to the negro),
push up that there chair for Mr. Parker. Fetch a clean glass and fill
it with punch. You know all the gentlemen here, don’t you, Mr. Parker?”
And then he stopped abruptly as though struck by a sudden thought.
Mr. Richard Parker looked briefly around the table. He did know, at
least by sight, all who were there but one. That one was a stranger
to him; a tall man with a long, thick, perfectly black beard tied
into a knot with a piece of string. His thick, black hair was parted
in the middle and brushed smoothly down upon either side of his head,
and was trimmed squarely all around his neck. The locks at his temple
were plaited into long strings, that hung down in front of his ears,
in which twinkled a pair of gold ear-rings. His face was tanned by
exposure to a leathery russet, but deepened to a bricky red in his
cheeks. At the name of Parker the stranger had looked up sharply for an
instant, and then had looked down again at the cards he was in the act
of shuffling. A sudden hush as of expectancy had fallen upon the room.
Everybody was looking attentively at Mr. Parker and at the stranger.
“Who is your friend yonder, Parrot?” asked Mr. Parker, “I don’t know
him.”
“Him?” said Parrot, “why, he’s no more a friend of mine than he is a
friend of all the rest of us, Mr. Parker.”
Seeing the other’s hesitation, the stranger spoke up boldly and loudly.
“My name is Teach,” said he, “Captain Teach, and I hail from North
Carolina. It’s like enough you’ve heard of me before, as I’ve heard
of you, sir. Well, then, I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Mr.
Parker.” He reached a brown, hairy hand across the table toward Mr.
Richard Parker, looking up at him as he did so with the most impudent
coolness and steadiness. Mr. Richard Parker made no sign of having
recognized the stranger’s name. He and the pirate seemed to be the only
self-possessed men in the room. He calmly ignored the proffered hand,
but said in a perfectly equal voice: “Why, then, I am obliged to you
for telling me who you are,” and then coolly and composedly took his
seat. “What game do you play, Parrot?” said he.
“Why, Mr. Parker,” said Parrot eagerly, “’tis lanterloo, and Captain
Teach is holding the bank just now. Will you take a hand, sir?”
* * * * *
By midnight the bowl of punch had been emptied and filled, and emptied
again, and at times the uproar was stunning. Mr. Richard Parker had
laid aside his coat and unbuttoned his waistcoat. His shirt was opened
at his handsome, round throat, and the sweat trickled down his smooth
red neck. “Harkee now, Captain Teach,” he called across the table in a
loud, rather hoarse, voice, “I know very well who you are, you bloody
villain! You’re a bloody pirate, d’ ye hear?”
The other glowered with tipsy truculence back at him for a moment or
two in silence. “You can’t prove me pirate, Mr. Dick Parker,” said he
at last, “and no man can prove me pirate now. Maybe I am a pirate and
maybe I’m none, but how can you prove I’m a pirate?”
Mr. Parker’s flaming face did not change a shade in the heavy
haughtiness of its expression. “A pirate you are,” said he, “and what’s
more, you’re at your tricks again. I’ve heard all about you, and I
know all about you, d’ ye see? Well, you’ve been losing at your cards
all night, Mr. Pirate. You may do well enough in your villainy afloat,
stabbing poor coasting captains and murdering young gentlemen of blood
like my nephew Ned, but what a poor figure do you make ashore when you
try your luck with the gentlemen at play. See what I’ve won of you!
Look ‘ee now, sirrah, I’ll play you a game of hazard man to man, and
clear you out o’ all you have left if you dare to play me.”
“Dare! Why should I not dare to play you, Dick Parker! D’ye think I’m
afeard of you? I’ll play you as long as ye can see. Why not?”
Harry Oliver pushed back his chair and rose. He came rather unsteadily
to where Mr. Parker sat. “Don’t do it, Dick,” said he, thickly. “Don’t
you play that man. He’s a bloody villain, Dick, and ’tisn’t fit you
should play him. D’ye forget what everybody knows, and that he had a
hand in Ned’s death?”
“Sit down, Oliver!” the other replied, wiping his face with his sleeve.
“Here, Parrot, clear the table of these cards and hand the dice over
here. There’s your cup, you villain!” and he tossed the box across the
table. “And now set your stakes and throw your cast.”
Everybody gathered around the two to watch the game, and for a while
nothing was heard but the rattle and fall of the dice. At first the
luck ran all in Mr. Parker’s favor, and Teach’s face grew blacker and
blacker. Then suddenly fortune changed, and in a little while the
winner had lost everything he had gained. Again and again he threw, and
again and again he lost. He played more and more desperately, and his
opponent grinned at every cast.
“Don’t play any more, Parker!” cried Harry Oliver. “Your luck’s against
you, and you’ve lost too much already.” But the other only pushed him
aside with his elbow, and gathered up the dice with trembling fingers.
At last he dashed down the dice and box furiously, and thereupon
Captain Teach burst out laughing. “And have ye had enough?” he exulted
hoarsely.
Mr. Parker stared haughtily at him without deigning any reply. “Did
you order out the horses, Oliver?” he said, pushing back his chair and
rising.
“Yes, I did. They’re waiting outside now, and have been this hour.”
“Then, come along, let us go; ’tis nearly morning now.”
The moon, nearing its last quarter, hung in the east like a flattened
globe of white light. The air was chill and smelt rank of marsh and
woodland. The mocking birds were singing in ceaseless medley from the
inky-black thickets beyond. Blackbeard followed the two gentlemen as
they came out of the house. “And when may I look for you to settle your
losses, Mr. Parker?” said he.
“I’ll talk with you to-morrow,” said Mr. Parker, as he set his foot in
the stirrup.
“But you’ll give me some written obligation of some sort, won’t you?”
“I tell you, sirrah, I’ll talk with you to-morrow. Do you hear me?
To-morrow.” And then the two gentlemen rode away into the night,
leaving the other standing looking after them.