It was some weeks after the funeral of Gideon Fairfax, that Bacon,
attracted by the genial warmth of a summer day, sauntered out for the
first time, in company with his friend Dudley, to seek the usual
_rendezvous_ of the young Cavaliers. Scarcely were they seated in the
Tap of the "Arms," before Philip Ludwell hastily entered, touched his
castor formally to Bacon and Dudley, and handed to the former a note,
fastened with a silken cord, and sealed with the arms of the House of
Berkley. Bacon cut the cord and read the note, without changing
countenance, and then handed it to Dudley, who had no sooner perused its
contents, than they both arose, retired to a private room, and called
for pen, ink and paper. The latter soon returned with an answer, sealed
in like manner, and handed it to Ludwell, who again formally bowing
retired. The first ran thus:
Jamestown, June --, 16--.
To Nathaniel Bacon, Esq.
SIR--I seize the first moment of your appearance in public,
restored to health, to demand the satisfaction due for the
grievous insult put upon me, on the night of the Anniversary
Celebration, in presence of the assembled gentry of the
Colony. All proper arrangements will be made by my friend
Ludwell, who will also await your answer. I have the honour to
be your most obedient servant,
FRANCIS BEVERLY.
Bacon's answer was no less courteous and explicit.
Berkley Arms, June --, 16--.
To Francis Beverly, Esq.
SIR--Your note by the hands of Mr. Ludwell was this moment
received. Your challenge is accepted. To-morrow morning at
sunrise I will meet you. The length of my weapon will be
furnished by my friend Dudley, who will convey this to Mr.
Ludwell, as well as make all other arrangements on my behalf. I
have the honour to be, yours, &c.
NATHANIEL BACON.
The following morning at sunrise, two parties of Cavaliers landed from
their boats at a secluded inlet, on the southern extremity of Hog
Island, immediately opposite the city, but screened from view by the
depth of the overshadowing forest. A surgeon with his assistant soon
followed.
The two parties exchanged formal but courtly salutations, and
immediately proceeded to the business of their meeting. A level
grass-plot, firm under the pressure of the foot, and sufficiently
cleared for the purpose, had long been set apart as the battle ground on
similar occasions, and was now easily found.
When all the parties were arrived at this spot, the seconds proceeded to
measure the swords in presence of their principals. This of course was a
mere formality required by the usages of the times, as the length of the
weapons was already known and settled between themselves.
The two young Cavaliers about to engage in deadly strife, were perhaps
as nearly matched in skill and courage as any that could be found in the
Colony. Both were in the daily practice of the foils, as a matter of
education no less than of amusement. Both were impetuous by nature, and
rash in their actions, and both came upon the field longing for
vengeance in requital of wrongs which each supposed he had received at
the hands of the other.
Beverly was in the enjoyment of ruddy health, and buoyant animal
impulses, but his antagonist was pale, thin, and evidently labouring
under depression of spirits, as well as feebleness of body. To a hasty,
and superficial observer, this state of the parties would have seemed
decidedly unfavourable to the latter; but it is very questionable
whether the high health and robust strength of Beverly were not more
than counterbalanced by the subdued but steady composure evinced by his
antagonist, the result of long confinement and depletion.
With a slight inclination of the head in formal salutation, each
advanced a foot and crossed his blade with that of his antagonist. The
eyes of each were instantly riveted upon his enemy, with the steady and
deadly ferocity of two wild beasts of prey. The pause continued a few
moments, as if each were striving to measure the hatred of the other; a
few rapid and skilful thrusts and parries were exchanged, and then
another interval of suspense and inactivity ensued. The next effort was
longer and more fiercely contested, and the intentions of each in this
uncomplicated warfare were more readily distinguished. Beverly was at
each successive trial becoming more and more ferocious, while his
antagonist was as evidently acting on the defensive, if not attempting
to disarm him. This now apparent intention of the latter, might be the
necessary result of his present comparative debility, of policy--aiming
to take advantage of his opponent's impetuosity, or of his promise to
Virginia. But from whatever cause it sprung, Dudley thought it a most
hazardous experiment to depend upon disarming so skilful a swordsman,
and was accordingly under the most lively apprehensions for the fate of
his friend. These were not however of long continuance, for at the next
onset, Beverly, forgetting himself for a moment, as he impetuously
flashed his weapon in deadly and rapid thrusts, cried, "Ha, Sir Bastard,
have at your coward's heart." In the next instant Bacon's sword pierced
his body--his eyes glared wildly for an instant, his sword fell from
his powerless hand, and as Bacon withdrew the weapon, Beverly uttered a
groan and fell prostrate upon the earth.
Bacon stood listlessly wiping his sword-blade upon his handkerchief, his
eyes abstractedly fixed upon the fallen youth, like one without thought
or reason, or rather so deeply buried in thought as to be almost
unconscious of the scene before him. His thoughts were upon his promise
to Virginia, to act only upon the defensive. This he had interpreted far
more literally than the fair girl herself had designed, and it was his
intention so to act throughout the struggle, had not his patience and
forbearance been overcome by the taunting exclamation of his adversary,
just preceding the last fatal onset.
All the circumstances passed rapidly through his mind, until his
meditations settled into the most poignant regret; not a little
aggravated when Beverly opened his eyes, and held up his hand to Bacon,
feebly exclaiming, "Bacon, forgive me; I wronged you both first and
last. I see it now when it is too late, but it is never too late to ask
forgiveness for an injury." Bacon grasped his hand, and flung himself
prostrate at his side in an instant. "Before God, Beverly, it was not my
intention, when I came to the field, to do this deed; my whole effort at
first was to disarm you. Forgiveness lies with you, not with me. I have
done you an irreparable injury, yours was but the result of thoughtless
impetuosity, for which I as freely forgive you, as it was hastily and
heedlessly offered. May God forgive us both."
The surgeon and his assistant now interfered in the prosecution of their
professional duties. While these were in progress, all parties were
silent in breathless attention; not a change of the doctor's countenance
escaped them. At length he arose, and deliberately wiping and replacing
his instruments in their case, walked thoughtfully some paces from the
wounded youth.
Bacon dared not follow to ask the fate of his patient, but Dudley, with
breathless eagerness pursued his footsteps, and demanded to know in few
words his fate. "Life or death, Doctor?" he hastily exclaimed, as if he
expected an answer in like short and expressive terms.
"Ours is not one of the exact sciences as to prognostication," said Dr.
Roland. "The wound extends from the anterior part of the thorax."
"Don't tell me about the thorax, doctor, tell me whether there is life
or death?"
"The pleura and the right lobe of the lungs have been wounded,
consequently there will be great inflammation succeeding, both from the
pleuretic and pulmonary excitement. These are the unchangeable laws of
the animal economy, and will not yield were the son of Charles himself
lying before us."
"O damn the animal economy. Can't you say in one word, life or death?"
"No, I cannot, Master Dudley. All I can say at present is, that it is my
hope and belief, if properly managed, that he will not die from the
hemorrhage, and that his chance of life depends upon his weathering out
the inflammation mentioned."
"There is a reasonable hope then! Thank you, doctor, thank you; may God
send that his life be spared." Uttering this fervent ejaculation he
joined his companions, who now held a consultation as to the most
judicious plan of removing the wounded youth. One proposed that he
should remain at a cottage upon the island; but the surgeon decided that
he might be removed in a boat to the city as easily as he could be
carried to the cottage. He was accordingly extended upon a rude litter,
and deposited in the most convenient boat, upon such a bed as they could
hastily construct of cloaks and bushes.
They had scarcely emerged from the shrubbery overhanging the margin of
the river, when a rustling noise was heard, similar to that made by the
flight of a large flock of birds, and in the next instant a shower of
Indian arrows fell harmless in the water, succeeded by an astounding
yell of twenty or more savages, indistinctly seen through the dense fog
rising from the stream. Their light bark canoes, of variegated colours,
could scarcely be distinguished as they rode upon the waves like huge
aquatic birds. The savage warriors were standing perfectly erect,
notwithstanding the motion of the waves and the vigorous exertions of
those squaws who officiated at the oar and helm. Bows were already
strung in their hands, and they were again in the act of leveling them
upon the party, when Bacon, seizing a duck gun from the bottom of the
boat, fired into the midst of the foremost canoe. Three huge painted
warriors leaped into the water and yelled and struggled for an instant
before they sunk to rise no more. Another discharge of arrows, and
another shot from Bacon's weapon, with like success, considerably damped
the ardour of the pursuit. Bacon and his party had in the mean time
urged the boat containing Beverly and the surgeon far ahead and out of
reach of their missiles, while they protected their retreat. Having
suffered the enemy to come within striking distance, he was now enabled
to see that they were Chickahominies, and readily comprehended their
motives. He was himself the object of their pursuit. They had watched
his movements for the purpose of avenging the death of their chief and
his followers. So prompt and efficient, however, was the defence of the
party sought, that after a few harmless flights of arrows, and a few
returns from the firearms of the white party, they hastily retreated,
and in a short time their canoes were only seen like distant specks on
the circumscribed horizon, as they scudded away before the rising
volumes of vapour for fear the dawning day should betray them and their
hostile attitude to the notice of the citizens.
As Bacon and Dudley stepped upon the shore in front of the palisade, the
other party having landed and disappeared before their arrival, they
stood to gaze over the water for an instant to ascertain whether any of
the savages yet lingered upon the scene. The fog was rapidly rising from
the water, so that their line of vision was uninterrupted for some
distance over the bay between the islands.
They could just perceive their late enemies doubling the southern point
of the island upon which they stood, and were about to retire, supposing
all further apprehension from that quarter at an end, when they
discovered the dim outlines of some one upon the southern end of the
island, making signals with a white handkerchief. They immediately and
silently moved along the shore, under cover of the palisade, until they
came within such a distance of the object which had attracted their
attention, that they could discern who it was themselves, at the same
time remaining undiscovered. It was Wyanokee! Her appearance at this
early hour and solitary place, and her equivocal employment, produced
the greatest astonishment and mortification in the mind of Bacon. Until
this moment he would have pledged his life for her truth and fidelity.
Ever since the encounter with the Indians, he had been wondering in his
own mind, how they had pursued him so exactly to the secret place of
their rendezvous. Now he recollected that Wyanokee had passed through
the gallery of the State House on the preceding evening, where Dudley
and himself were practising. She might have overheard some of their
conversation. Her presence at such a place had excited a momentary
surprise at the time, but it all passed over, under the usual idea that
Wyanokee was every where. She often glided about like a spirit, yet no
one knew whither she was going, or the purpose of her movements. "Can it
be possible," said Bacon to himself, "that Wyanokee has been
treacherous?"
All these corroborating circumstances, together with her present
attitude, answered in the affirmative. Notwithstanding the strong
conviction of this unwelcome fact which now settled on his mind, he
could not believe her deliberately bent on his destruction. He had seen
her exhibit many noble traits of character in trying situations.
Besides, she was somewhat under his protection, and we are always
inclined to love those whom we have served. She was also Virginia's
pupil, and the latter was proud of her as such, and he himself had felt
a sort of complacency at the progress of the maiden under her tuition.
His imagination had often dwelt upon her imaginary perfections, as so
many reflected beauties from Virginia's guileless heart and cultivated
mind. No, he could not believe her thus meanly treacherous. Some native
impulse must have been roused, some secret spring of her long hidden and
dormant nature, must have been touched. Her savage ideas of patriotism
had fired her to revenge the death of her nation's chief.
Notwithstanding these palliating suggestions which rose in his mind on
the doubtful attitude in which he had detected her, his reflections were
by no means pleasing, as he locked his arm in Dudley's, and retired
from the shore. Every thing seemed to him to conspire against his
happiness. First, there was the old and ever present cause of solicitude
in relation to his own origin, the doubtful nature of which had been the
remote cause of the unhappy rencounter of the morning. Then there was
the new attitude in which he was placed towards Virginia, by the death
of her father, together with the tantalizing, partial revelations of the
anonymous letters and gold locket, which that event had thrown into his
possession, with the thousand surmises, half formed hopes, and
resolutions resulting from them. Upon the whole, however, he could not
but feel, in the midst of these various depressing circumstances, that
his chance for success in an application for the hand of Virginia was
greater with the widowed lady of the murdered Fairfax than it would have
been were he alive. He knew the high position in which he stood in that
lady's favour. He knew her contempt for worldly show, pomp and
circumstance--he had always known it, but now he knew something of the
cause in the revelations of her own history. He knew that she had boldly
indulged the first predilections of her own young heart at the expense
of her father's and her brother's favour; and his hopes were strong,
that when he should present himself before her in something of a like
attitude, as an applicant for the hand of her fair daughter, her own
recollections would rise up before her in his favour. That there would
be difficulties to surmount, and prejudices to subdue, he knew full
well. That Sir William Berkley would exert his power to the utmost, to
prevent such a consummation he also knew; but the consent of Mrs.
Fairfax once gained, he resolved to brave the opposition if he could not
subdue the prejudices of the Governor.
The unhappy business of the morning would in all probability hasten the
contending elements to a crisis. The Governor would soon know of the
meeting and its result; he would in all probability inquire into the
cause of the quarrel, and his shrewd insight into the motives of human
action would very soon discover that there were hidden impulses
operating, which caused the insult to be given, and kindred ones in the
opposite party which rendered the offence so much the more heinous and
unpardonable. In short, he would discover that there was a lady at the
bottom of the whole affair; and that this lady was his own fair niece;
and that the two gentlemen who had just contended in deadly strife, were
rivals for the possession of her favour. Such being the process of
reasoning in the Governor's mind, Bacon knew him too well to suppose
that he would delay the matter long before he endeavoured to bring it to
a conclusion. Indeed he believed (and the reader knows how truly) that
his excellency already saw the advantages of the connexion as vividly as
his nephew apprehended the sterling qualities of the lady. Such being
the case, the result of the morning's meeting, if it did not prove
fatal to his rival's life, would in all probability precipitate the
matter at once to an issue. The Governor would no sooner ascertain that
Beverly was out of danger than he would take the business in his own
hands, and how he would manage it, and what means he would take to
accomplish his ends, Bacon's personal experience in other matters fully
taught him. He resolved therefore to be beforehand with him, to present
his own claims first, to attempt to conciliate the lady of his late
patron, before her ear had been poisoned by the violent abuse which he
knew would be heaped upon him, as well as by contempt for his origin.
But could he imbrue his hand in the blood of his rival and then present
it for acceptance? Could he precipitate his claims before the family in
their present melancholy state?
These were the subjects of his reflection, as the two youths entered the
gates of the city,--and here another difficulty arose; if he should
immediately present himself before the family, the news of the meeting
having preceded him, even without broaching the subject before alluded
to, would not the feelings excited in the mind of Virginia and her
mother be unfavourable to his claims? Then again, should he leave rumour
with her hundred tongues to explain to the maiden the reasons which had
induced him to accept the challenge from her kinsman, would not his
cause be still more prejudiced? Finally, therefore, after taking all
these things into consideration, he came to the conclusion that it was
best to wait some favourable news from his wounded rival before
presenting himself, or in case of the worst result, to absent himself
from the city altogether for a time.
Accordingly the youths bent their footsteps to Dudley's lodgings, there
to await intelligence concerning Beverly. It is hardly necessary to
remind the reader that duelling in that day, so far from being
considered criminal, was the sole test to which all differences between
gentlemen were submitted. The influence of the custom has been handed
down, variously modified by the circumstances of the times, from one
generation to another, until it has reached our own.