THE VIRGINIA CAPITAL
They were on a large schooner, and while Robert looked forward with
eagerness to the campaign, he also looked back with regret at the
roofs of New York, as they sank behind the sea. The city suited
him. It had seemed to him while he was there that he belonged in it,
and now that he was going away the feeling was stronger upon him than
ever. He resolved once more that it should be his home when the war
was over.
Their voyage down the coast was stormy and long. Baffling winds
continually beat them back, and, then they lay for long periods in
dead calms, but at last they reached the mouth of the James, going
presently the short distance overland to Williamsburg, the town that
had succeeded Jamestown as the capital of the great province of
Virginia.
Spring was already coming here in the south and in the lowlands by the
sea, and the tinge of green in the foliage and the warm winds were
grateful after the winter of the cold north. Robert, eager as always
for new scenes, and fresh knowledge, anticipated with curiosity his
first sight of Williamsburg, one of the oldest British towns in North
America. He knew that it was not large, but he found it even smaller
than he had expected.
He and his comrades reached it on horseback, and they found that it
contained only a thousand inhabitants, and one street, straight and
very wide. On this street stood the brick buildings of William and
Mary, the oldest college in the country, a new capitol erected in the
place of one burned, not long before, and a large building called the
Governor's Palace. It looked very small, very quiet, and very content.
Robert was conscious of a change in atmosphere that was not a mere
matter of temperature. Keen, commercial New York was gone. Here,
people talked of politics and the land. The men who came into
Williamsburg on horseback or in their high coaches were owners of
great plantations, where they lived as patriarchs, and feudal
lords. The human stock was purely British and the personal customs and
modes of thought of the British gentry had been transplanted.
"I like it," said Grosvenor. "I feel that I've found England again."
"There appears to be very little town life," said Robert. "It seems
strange that Williamsburg is so small, when Virginia has many more
people than New York or Pennsylvania or Massachusetts."
"They're spread upon the land," said Willet. "I've been in Virginia
before. They don't care much about commerce, but you'll find that a
lot of the men who own the great plantations are hard and good
thinkers."
Robert soon discovered that in Virginia a town was rather a meeting
place for the landed aristocracy than a commercial center. The arrival
of the British troops and of Americans from other colonies brought
much life into the little capital. The people began to pour in from
the country houses, and the single street was thronged with the best
horses and the best carriages Virginia could show, their owners,
attended by swarms of black men and black women whose mouths were
invariably stretched in happy grins, their splendid white teeth
glittering.
There was much splendor, a great mingling of the fine and the tawdry,
as was inevitable in a society that maintained slavery on a large
scale. Nearly all the carriages had been brought from London, and they
were of the best. When their owners drove forth in the streets or the
country roundabout they were escorted by black coachmen and footmen in
livery. The younger men were invariably on horseback, dressed like
English country gentlemen, and they rode with a skill and grace that
Robert had never before seen equaled. The parsons, as in England, rode
with the best, and often drank with them too.
It was a proud little society, exclusive perhaps, and a little bit
provincial too, possibly, but it was soon to show to the world a group
of men whose abilities and reputation and service to the state have
been unequaled, perhaps, since ancient Athens. One warm afternoon as
Robert walked down the single street with Tayoga and Grosvenor, he saw
a very young man, only three or four years older than himself, riding
a large, white horse.
The rider's lofty stature, apparent even on horseback, attracted
Robert's notice. He was large of bone, too, with hands and feet of
great size, and a very powerful figure. His color was ruddy and high,
showing one who lived out of doors almost all the time.
The man, Robert soon learned, was the young officer, George
Washington, who had commanded the Virginians in the first skirmish
with the French and Indians in the Ohio country.
"One of most grave and sober mien," said Grosvenor. "I take him to be
of fine quality."
"There can scarce be a doubt of it," said Robert.
But he did not dream then that succeeding generations would reckon the
horseman the first man of all time.
Robert, Willet and Tayoga saw the governor, Dinwiddie, a thrifty
Scotchman, and offered to him their services, saying that they wished
to go with the Braddock expedition as scouts.
"But I should think, young sir," said Dinwiddie to Robert, "that you,
at least, would want a commission. 'Twill be easy to obtain it in the
Virginia troops."
"I thank you, sir, for the offer, which is very kind," said Robert,
"but I have spent a large part of my life in the woods with
Mr. Willet, and I feel that I can be of more use as a scout and
skirmisher. You know that they will be needed badly in the forest.
Moreover, Mr. Willet would not be separated from Tayoga, who in the
land of the Six Nations, known to themselves as the Hodenosaunee, is a
great figure."
Governor Dinwiddie regarded the Onondaga, who gave back his gaze
steadily. The shrewd Scotchman knew that here stood a man, and he
treated him as one.
"Have your way," he said. "Perhaps you are right. Many think that
General Braddock has little to fear from ambush, they say that his
powerful army of regulars and colonials can brush aside any force the
French and Indians may gather, but I've been long enough in this
country to know that the wilderness always has its dangers. Such eyes
as the eyes of you three will have their value. You shall have the
commissions you wish."
Willet was highly pleased. He had been even more insistent than Robert
on the point, saying they must not sacrifice their freedom and
independence of movement, but Grosvenor was much surprised.
"An army rank will help you," he said.
"It's help that we don't need," said Robert smiling.
The governor showed them great courtesy. He liked them and his
penetrating Scotch mind told him that they had quality. Despite his
hunter's dress, which he had resumed, Willet's manners were those of
the great world, and Dinwiddie often looked at him with
curiosity. Robert seemed to him to be wrapped in the same veil of
mystery, and he judged that the lad, whose manners were not inferior
to those of Willet, had in him the making of a personage. As for
Tayoga, Dinwiddie had been too long in America and he knew too much of
the Hodenosaunee not to appreciate his great position. An insult or a
slight in Virginia to the coming young chief of the Clan of the Bear,
of the nation Onondaga would soon be known in the far land of the Six
Nations, and its cost would be so great that none might count it. Just
as tall oaks from little acorns grow, so a personal affront may sow
the seed of a great war or break a great alliance, and Dinwiddie knew
it.
The governor, assisted by his wife and two daughters, entertained at
his house, and Robert, Tayoga, Willet, and Grosvenor, arrayed in their
best, attended, forming conspicuous figures in a great crowd, as the
Virginia gentry, also clad in their finest, attended. Robert, with
his adaptable and imaginative mind, was at home at once among them. He
liked the soft southern speech, the grace of manner and the good
feeling that obtained. They were even more closely related than the
great families of New York, and it was obvious that they formed a
cultivated society, in close touch with the mother country, intensely
British in manner and mode of thought, and devoted in both theory and
practice to personal independence.
As the spring was now well advanced the night was warm and the windows
and doors of the Governor's Palace were left open. Negroes in livery
played violins and harps while all the guests who wished
danced. Others played cards in smaller rooms, but there was no such
betting as Robert had seen at Bigot's ball in Quebec. There was some
drinking of claret and punch, but no intoxication. The general note
was of great gayety, but with proper restraints.
Robert noticed that the men, spending their lives in the open air and
having abundant and wholesome food, were invariably tall and big of
bone. The women looked strong and their complexions were rosy. The
same facility of mind that had made him like New York and Quebec, such
contrasting places, made him like Williamsburg too, which was
different from either.
Quickly at home, in this society as elsewhere, the hours were all too
short for him. Both he and Grosvenor, who was also adaptable, seeing
good in everything, plunged deep into the festivities. He danced with
young women and with old, and Willet more than once gave him an
approving glance. It seemed that the hunter always wished him to fit
himself into any group with which he might be cast, and to make
himself popular, and to do so Robert's temperament needed little
encouragement.
The music and the dancing never ceased. When the black musicians grew
tired their places were taken by others as black and as zealous, and
on they went in a ceaseless alternation. Robert learned that the
guests would dance all night and far into the next day, and that
frequently at the great houses a ball continued two days and two
nights.
About three o'clock in the morning, after a long dance that left him
somewhat weary, he went upon one of the wide piazzas to rest and take
the fresh air. There, his attention was specially attracted by two
young men who were waging a controversy with energy, but without
acrimony.
"I tell you, James," said one, who was noticeable for his great shock
of fair hair and his blazing red face, "that at two miles Blenheim is
unbeatable."
"Unbeatable he may be, Walter," said the other, "but there is no horse
so good that there isn't a better. Blenheim, I grant you, is a
splendid three year old, but my Cressy is just about twenty yards
swifter in two miles. There is not another such colt in all Virginia,
and it gives me great pride to be his owner."
The other laughed, a soft drawling laugh, but it was touched with
incredulity.
"You're a vain man, James," he said, "not vain for yourself, but vain
for your sorrel colt."
"I admit my vanity, Walter, but it rests upon a just basis. Cressy, I
repeat, is the best three year old in Virginia, which of course means
the best in all the colonies, and I have a thousand weight of prime
tobacco to prove it."
"My plantation grows good tobacco too, James, and I also have a
thousand weight of prime leaf which talks back to your thousand
weight, and tells it that Cressy is the second best three year old in
Virginia, not the best."
"Done. Nothing is left but to arrange the time."
Both at this moment noticed Robert, who was sitting not far away, and
they hailed him with glad voices. He remembered meeting them earlier
in the evening. They were young men, Walter Stuart and James Cabell,
who had inherited great estates on the James and they shipped their
tobacco in their own vessels to London, and detecting in Robert a
somewhat kindred spirit they had received him with great friendliness.
Already they were old acquaintances in feeling, if not in time.
"Lennox, listen to this vain boaster!" exclaimed Cabell. "He has a
good horse, I admit, but his spirit has become unduly inflated about
it. You know, don't you, Lennox, that my colt, Cressy, has all
Virginia beaten in speed?"
"You know nothing of the kind, Lennox!" exclaimed Stuart, "but you do
know that my three year old Blenheim is the swiftest horse ever bred
in the colony. Now, don't you?"
"I can't give an affirmative to either of you," laughed Robert, "as
I've never seen your horses, but this I do say, I shall be very glad
to see the test and let the colts decide it for themselves."
"A just decision, O Judge!" said Stuart. "You shall have an honored
place as a guest when the match is run. What say you to tomorrow
morning at ten, James?"
"A fit hour, Walter. You ride Blenheim yourself, of course?"
"Truly, and you take the mount on Cressy?"
"None other shall ride him. I've black boys cunning with horses, but
since it's horse against horse it should also be master against
master."
"A match well made, and 'twill be a glorious contest. Come, Lennox,
you shall be a judge, and so shall be your friend Willet, and so shall
that splendid Indian, Tayoga."
Robert was delighted. He had thrown himself with his whole soul into
the Virginia life, and he was eager to see the race run. So were all
the others, and even the grave eyes of Tayoga sparkled when he heard
of it.
It was broad daylight when he went to bed, but he was up at noon, and
in the afternoon he went to the House of Burgesses to hear the
governor make a speech to the members on the war and its emergencies.
Dinwiddie, like Shirley, the governor of Massachusetts, appreciated
the extreme gravity of the crisis, and his address was solemn and
weighty.
He told them that the shadow in the north was black and menacing. The
French were an ambitious people, brave, tenacious and skillful. They
had won the friendship of the savages and now they dominated the
wilderness. They would strike heavy blows, but their movements were
enveloped in mystery, and none knew where or when the sword would
fall. The spirit animating them flowed from the haughty and powerful
court at Versailles that aimed at universal dominion. It became the
Virginians, as it became the people of all the colonies, to gather
their full force against them.
The members listened with serious faces, and Robert knew that the
governor was right. He had been to Quebec, and he had already met
Frenchmen in battle. None understood better than he their skill,
courage and perseverance, and the shadow in the north was very heavy
and menacing to him too.
But his depression quickly disappeared when he returned to the bright
sunshine, and met his young friends again. The Virginians were a
singular compound of gayety and gravity. Away from the House of
Burgesses the coming horse race displaced the war for a brief
space. It was the great topic in Williamsburg and the historic names,
Blenheim and Cressy, were in the mouths of everybody.
Robert soon discovered that the horses were well known, and each had
its numerous group of partisans. Their qualities were discussed by
the women and girls as well as the men and with intelligence. Robert,
filled with the spirit of it, laid a small wager on Blenheim, and
then, in order to show no partiality, laid another in another quarter,
but of exactly the same amount on Cressy.
The evening witnessed more arrivals in Williamsburg, drawn by the news
of the race, and young men galloped up and down the wide street in the
moonlight, testing their own horses, and riding improvised
matches. The rivalry was always friendly, the gentlemen's code that
there should be no ill feeling prevailed, and more than ever the
entire gathering seemed to Robert one vast family. Grosvenor was
intensely interested in the race, and also in the new sights he was
seeing.
"Still," he said, "if it were not for the colored people I could
imagine with ease that I was back at a country meeting at home. Do you
know anything, Lennox, about these horses, Blenheim and
Cressy--patriotic fellows their owners must be--and could you give a
chap advice about laying a small wager?"
"I know nothing about them except what Stuart and Cabell say."
"What do they say?"
"Stuart knows that Blenheim is the fastest horse in Virginia, and
Cabell knows that Cressy is, and so there the matter stands until the
race is run."
"I think I'll put a pound on Blenheim, nevertheless. Blenheim has a
much more modern sound than Cressy, and I'm all for modernity."
There was an excellent race track, the sport already being highly
developed in Virginia, and, the next day being beautiful, the seats
were filled very early in the morning. The governor with his wife and
daughters was present, and so were many other notables. Robert,
Tayoga and Grosvenor were in a group of nearly fifty young
Virginians. All about were women and girls in their best spring
dresses, many imported from London, and there were several men whom
Robert knew by their garb to be clergymen. Colored women, their heads
wrapped in great bandanna handkerchiefs, were selling fruits or
refreshing liquids.
The whole was exhilarating to the last degree, and all the youth and
imagination in Robert responded. Dangers befell him, but delights
offered themselves also, and he took both as they came. Several
preliminary races, improvised the day before, were run, and they
served to keep the crowd amused, while they waited for the great
match.
Robert and Tayoga then moved to advanced seats near the Governor,
where Willet was already placed, in order that they might fulfill
their honorable functions as judges, and the people began to stir with
a great breath of expectation. They were packed in a close group for a
long distance, and Robert's eye roved over them, noting that their
faces, ruddy or brown, were those of an open air race, like the
English. Almost unconsciously his mind traveled back to a night in
New York, when he had seen another crowd gather in a theater, and then
with a thrill he recalled the face that he had beheld there. He could
never account for it, although some connection of circumstances was
back of it, but he had a sudden instinctive belief that in this new
crowd he would see the same face once more.
It obsessed him like a superstition, and, for the moment, he forgot
the horses, the race, and all that had brought him there. His eye
roved on, and then, down, near the front of the seats he found him,
shaved cleanly and dressed neatly, like a gentleman, but like one in
poor circumstances. Robert saw at first only the side of his face, the
massive jaw, the strong, curving chin, and the fair hair crisping
slightly at the temples, but he would have known him anywhere and in
any company.
St. Luc sat very still, apparently absorbed in the great race which
would soon be run. In an ordinary time any stranger in Williamsburg
would have been noticed, but this was far from being an ordinary time.
The little town overflowed with British troops, and American visitors
known and unknown. Tayoga or Willet, if they saw him, might recognize
him, although Robert was not sure, but they, too, might keep silent.
For a little while, he wondered why St. Luc had come to the Virginia
capital, a journey so full of danger for him. Was he following him?
Was it because of some tie between them? Or was it because St. Luc was
now spying upon the Anglo-American preparations? He understood to the
full the romantic and adventurous nature of the Frenchman, and knew
that he would dare anything. Then he had a consuming desire for the
eyes of St. Luc to meet his, and he bent upon him a gaze so long, and
of such concentration, that at last the chevalier looked up.
St. Luc showed recognition, but in a moment or two he looked
away. Robert also turned his eyes in another direction, lest Tayoga or
Willet should follow his gaze, and when he glanced back again in a
minute or two St. Luc was gone. His roving eyes, traveling over the
crowd once more, could not find him, and he was glad. He believed now
that St. Luc had come to Williamsburg to discover the size and
preparations of the American force and its plan, and Robert felt that
he must have him seized if he could. He would be wanting in his
patriotism and duty if he failed to do so. He must sink all his liking
for St. Luc, and make every effort to secure his capture.
But there was a sudden murmur that grew into a deep hum of
expectation, punctuated now and then by shouts: "Blenheim!" "Cressy!"
"Cabell!" "Stuart!" Horses and horsemen alike seemed to have their
partisans in about equal numbers. Ladies rose to their feet, and waved
bright fans, and men gave suggestions to those on whom they had laid
their money.
The race, for a space, crowded St. Luc wholly out of Robert's
mind. Stuart and Cabell, each dressed very neatly in jockey attire,
came out and mounted their horses, which the grooms had been leading
back and forth. The three year olds, excited by the noise and
multitude of faces, leaped and strained at their bits. Robert did not
know much of races, but it seemed to him that there was little to
choose between either horses or riders.
The circular track was a mile in length, and they would round it
twice, start and finish alike being made directly in front of the
judges' stand. The starter, a tall Virginian, finally brought the
horses to the line, neck and neck, and they were away. The whole crowd
rose to its feet and shouted approval as they flashed past. Blenheim
was a bay and Cressy was a sorrel, and when they began to turn the
curve in the distance Robert saw that bay and sorrel were still neck
and neck. Then he saw them far across the field, and neither yet had
the advantage.
Now, Robert understood why the Virginians loved the sport. The test of
a horse's strength and endurance and of a horseman's skill and
judgment was thrilling. Presently he found that he was shouting with
the shouting multitude, and sometimes he shouted Cressy and sometimes
he shouted Blenheim.
They came around the curve, the finish of the first mile being near,
and Robert saw the nose of the sorrel creeping past the nose of the
bay. A shout of triumph came from the followers of Cressy and Cabell,
but the partisans of Blenheim and Stuart replied that the race was not
yet half run. Cressy, though it was only in inches, was still
gaining. The sorrel nose crept forward farther and yet a little
farther. When they passed the judges' stand Cressy led by a head and a
neck.
Robert, having no favorite before, now felt a sudden sympathy for
Blenheim and Stuart, because they were behind, and he began to shout
for them continuously, until sorrel and bay were well around the curve
on the second mile, when the entire crowd became silent. Then a sharp
shout came from the believers in Blenheim and Stuart. The bay was
beginning to win back his loss. The Cressy men were silent and gloomy,
as Blenheim, drawing upon the stores of strength that had been
conserved, continued to gain, until now the bay nose was creeping past
the sorrel. Then the bay was a full length ahead and that sharp shout
of triumph burst now from the Blenheim people. Robert found his
feelings changing suddenly, and he was all for Cressy and Cabell.
The joy of the Blenheim people did not last long. The sorrel came
back to the side of the bay, the second mile was half done, and a
blanket would have covered the two. It was yet impossible to detect
any sign indicating the winner. The eyes of Tayoga, sitting beside
Robert, sparkled. The Indians from time unknown had loved ball games
and had played them with extraordinary zest and fire. As soon as they
came to know the horse of the white man they loved racing in the same
way. Their sporting instincts were as genuine as those of any country
gentleman.
"It is a great race," said Tayoga. "The horses run well and the men
ride well. Tododaho himself, sitting on his great and shining star,
does not know which will win."
"The kind of race I like to see," said Robert. "Stuart and Cabell
were justified in their faith in their horses. A magnificent pair,
Blenheim and Cressy!"
"It has been said, Dagaeoga, that there is always one horse that can
run faster than another, but it seems that neither of these two can
run faster than the other. Now, Blenheim thrusts his nose ahead, and
now Cressy regains the lead by a few inches. Now they are so nearly
even that they seem to be but one horse and one rider."
"A truly great race, Tayoga, and a prettily matched pair! Ah, the bay
leads! No, 'tis the sorrel! Now, they are even again, and the finish
is not far away!"
The great crowd, which had been shouting, each side for its favorite,
became silent as Blenheim and Cressy swept into the stretch. Stuart
and Cabell, leaning far over the straining necks, begged and prayed
their brave horses to go a little faster, and Blenheim and Cressy,
hearing the voices that they knew so well, responded but in the same
measure. The heads were even, as if they had been locked fast, and
there was still no sign to indicate the winner. Faster and faster
they came, their riders leaning yet farther forward, continually
urging them, and they thundered past the stand, matched so evenly that
not a hair's breadth seemed to separate the noses of the sorrel and
the bay.
"It's a dead heat!" exclaimed Robert, as the people, unable to
restrain their enthusiasm, swarmed over the track, and such was the
unanimous opinion of the judges. Yet it was the belief of all that a
finer race was never run in Virginia, and while the horses, covered
with blankets, were walked back and forth to cool, men followed them
and uttered their admiration.
Stuart and Cabell were eager to run the heat over, after the horses
had rested, but the judges would not allow it.
"No! No, lads!" said the Governor. "Be content! You have two splendid
horses, the best in Virginia, and matched evenly. Moreover, you rode
them superbly. Now, let them rest with the ample share of honor that
belongs to each."
Stuart and Cabell, after the heat of rivalry was over, thought it a
good plan, shook hands with great warmth three or four times, each
swearing that the other was the best fellow in the world, and then
with a great group of friends they adjourned to the tavern where huge
beakers of punch were drunk.
"And mighty Todadaho himself, although he looks into the future, does
not yet know which is the better horse," said Tayoga. "It is
well. Some things should remain to be discovered, else the salt would
go out of life."
"That's sound philosophy," said Willet. "It's the mystery of things
that attracts us, and that race ended in the happiest manner
possible. Neither owner can be jealous or envious of the other;
instead they are feeling like brothers."
Then Robert's mind with a sudden rush, went back to St. Luc, and his
sense of duty tempted him to speak of his presence to Willet, but he
concluded to wait a little. He looked around for him again, but he did
not see him, and he thought it possible that he had now left the
dangerous neighborhood of Williamsburg.
As they walked back to their quarters at a tavern Willet informed them
that there was to be, two days later, a grand council of provincial
governors and high officers at Alexandria on the Potomac, where
General Braddock with his army already lay in camp, and he suggested
that they go too. As they were free lances with their authority
issuing from Governor Dinwiddie alone, they could do practically as
they pleased. Both Robert and Tayoga were all for it, but in the
afternoon they, as well as Willet, were invited to a race dinner to be
given at the tavern that evening by Stuart and Cabell in honor of the
great contest, in which neither had lost, but in which both had won.
"I suppose," said Willet, "that while here we might take our full
share of Virginia hospitality, which is equal to any on earth,
because, as I see it, before very long we will be in the woods where
so much to eat and drink will not be offered to us. March and battle
will train us down."
The dinner to thirty guests was spread in the great room of the tavern
and the black servants of Stuart and Cabell, well trained, dextrous
and clad in livery, helped those of the landlord to serve. The
abundance and quality of the food were amazing. Besides the resources
of civilization, air, wood and water were drawn upon for
game. Virginia, already renowned for hospitality, was resolved that
through her young sons, Stuart and Cabell, she should do her best that
night.
A dozen young British officers were present, and there was much
toasting and conviviality. The tie of kinship between the old country
and the new seemed stronger here than in New England, where the
England of Cromwell still prevailed, or in New York, where the Dutch
and other influences not English were so powerful. They had begun with
the best of feeling, and it was heightened by the warmth that food and
drink bring. They talked with animation of the great adventure, on
which they would soon start, as Stuart and Cabell and most of the
Virginians were going with Braddock. They drank a speedy capture of
Fort Duquesne, and confusion to the French and their red allies.
Robert, imitating the example of Tayoga, ate sparingly and scarcely
tasted the punch. About eleven o'clock, the night being warm,
unusually warm for that early period of spring, and nearly all the
guests having joined in the singing, more or less well, of patriotic
songs, Robert, thinking that his absence would not be noticed, walked
outside in search of coolness and air.
It was but a step from the lights and brilliancy of the tavern to the
darkness of Williamsburg's single avenue. There were no street
lanterns, and only a moon by which to see. He could discern the dim
bulk of William and Mary College and of the Governor's Palace, but
except near at hand the smaller buildings were lost in the dusk. A
breeze touched with salt, as if from the sea, was blowing, and its
touch was so grateful on Robert's face that he walked on, hat in hand,
while the wind played on his cheeks and forehead and lifted his
hair. Then a darker shadow appeared in the darkness, and St. Luc stood
before him.
"Why do you come here! Why do you incur such danger? Don't you know
that I must give warning of your presence?" exclaimed Robert
passionately.
The Frenchman laughed lightly. He seemed very well pleased with
himself, and then he hummed:
"Hier sur le pont d'Avignon
J'ai oui chanter la belle
Lon, la."
"Your danger is great!" repeated Robert.
"Not as great as you think," said St. Luc. "You will not protect
me. You will warn the British officers that a French spy is here. I
read it in your face at the race today, and moreover, I know you
better than you know yourself. I know, too, more about you than you
know about yourself. Did I not warn you in New York to beware of
Mynheer Adrian Van Zoon?"
"You did, and I know that you meant me well."
"And what happened?"
"I was kidnapped by a slaver, and I was to have been taken to the
coast of Africa, but a storm intervened and saved me. Perhaps the
slaver was acting for Mynheer Van Zoon, but I talked it over with Mr.
Hardy and we haven't a shred of proof."
"Perhaps a storm will not intervene next time. You must look to
yourself, Robert Lennox."
"And you to yourself, Chevalier de St. Luc. I'm grateful to you for
the warning you gave me, and other acts of friendship, but whatever
your mission may have been in New York I'm sure that one of your
errands, perhaps the main one, in Williamsburg, is to gather
information for France, and, sir, I should be little of a patriot did
I not give the alarm, much as it hurts me to do so."
Robert saw very clearly by the moonlight that the blue eyes of St. Luc
were twinkling. His situation might be dangerous, but obviously he
took no alarm from it.
"You'll bear in mind, Mr. Lennox," he said, "that I'm not asking you
to shield me. Consider me a French spy, if you wish--and you'll not be
wholly wrong--and then act as you think becomes a man with a
commission as army scout from Governor Dinwiddie of Virginia."
There was a little touch of irony in his voice. His adventures and
romantic spirit was in the ascendant, and it seemed to Robert that he
was giving him a dare. That he would have endured because of his
admiration for St. Luc, and also because of his gratitude, but the
allusion to his commission from the governor of Virginia recalled him
to his sense of duty.
"I can do nothing else!" he exclaimed. "'Tis a poor return for the
services you have done me, and I tender my apologies for the action
I'm about to take. But guard yourself, St. Luc!"
"And you, Lennox, look well to yourself when Braddock marches! Every
twig and leaf will spout danger!"
His light manner was wholly gone for the moment, and his words were
full of menace. Up the street, a sentinel walked back and forth, and
Robert could hear the faint fall of his feet on the sand.
"Once more I bid you beware, St. Luc!" he exclaimed, and raising his
voice he shouted: "A spy! A spy!"
He heard the sentinel drop the butt of his musket heavily against the
earth, utter an exclamation and then run toward them. His shout had
also been heard at the tavern, and the guests, bareheaded, began to
pour out, and look about confusedly to see whence the alarm had come.
Robert looked at the sentinel who was approaching rapidly, and then he
turned to see what St Luc would do. But the Frenchman was gone. Near
them was a mass of shrubbery and he believed that he had flitted into
it, as silently as the passing of a shadow. But the sentinel had
caught a glimpse of the dusky figure, and he cried:
"Who was he? What is it?"
"A spy!" replied Robert hastily. "A Frenchman whom I have seen in
Canada! I think he sprang into those bushes and flowers!"
The sentinel and Robert rushed into the shrubbery but nothing was
there. As they looked about in the dusk, Robert heard a refrain,
distant, faint and taunting:
"Hier sur le pont d'Avignon
J'ai oui chanter la belle
Lon, la."
It was only for an instant, then it died like a summer echo, and he
knew that St. Luc was gone. An immense weight rolled from him. He had
done what he should have done, but the result that he feared had not
followed.
"I can find nothing, sir," said the sentinel, who recognized in Robert
one of superior rank.
"Nor I, but you saw the figure, did you not?"
"I did, sir. 'Twas more like a shadow, but 'twas a man, I'll swear."
Robert was glad to have the sentinel's testimony, because in another
moment the revelers were upon him, making sport of him for his false
alarm, and asserting that not his eyes but the punch he had drunk had
seen a French spy.
"I scarce tasted the punch," said Robert, "and the soldier here is
witness that I spoke true."
A farther and longer search was organized, but the Frenchman had
vanished into the thinnest of thin air. As Robert walked with Willet
and Tayoga back to the tavern, the hunter said:
"I suppose it was St. Luc?"
"Yes, but why did you think it was he?"
"Because it was just the sort of deed he would do. Did you speak with
him?"
"Yes, and I told him I must give the alarm. He disappeared with
amazing speed and silence."
Robert made a brief report the next day to Governor Dinwiddie, not
telling that St. Luc and he had spoken together, stating merely that
he had seen him, giving his name, and describing him as one of the
most formidable of the French forest leaders.
"I thank you, Mr. Lennox," said the Governor. "Your information shall
be conveyed to General Braddock. Yet I think our force will be too
great for the wilderness bands."
On the following day they were at Alexandria on the Potomac, where the
great council was to be held. Here Braddock's camp was spread, and in
a large tent he met Governor Dinwiddie of Virginia, Governor de Lancey
of New York, Governor Sharpe of Maryland, Governor Dobbs of North
Carolina and Governor Shirley of Massachusetts, an elderly lawyer, but
the ablest and most energetic of all the governors.
It was the most momentous council yet held in North America, and all
the young officers waited with the most intense eagerness the news
from the tent. Robert saw Braddock as he went in, a middle-aged man of
high color and an obstinate chin. Grosvenor gave him some of the
gossip about the general.
"London has many stories of him," he said. "He has spent most of his
life in the army. He is a gambler, but brave, rough but generous,
irritable, but often very kind. Opposition inflames him, but he likes
zeal and good service. He is very fond of your young Mr. Washington,
who, I hear is much of a man."
The council in the great tent was long and weighty, and well it might
have been, even far beyond the wildest thoughts of any of the
participants. These were the beginnings of events that shook not only
America but Europe for sixty years. In the tent they agreed upon a
great and comprehensive scheme of campaign that had been proposed some
time before. Braddock would proceed with his attack upon Fort
Duquesne, Shirley would see that the forces of New England seized
Beauséjour and De Lancey would have Colonel William Johnson to move
upon Crown Point and then Niagara. Acadia also would be
taken. Dinwiddie after Shirley was the most vigorous of the governors,
and he promised that the full force of Virginia should be behind
Braddock. But to Shirley was given the great vision. He foresaw the
complete disappearance of French power from North America, and, to
achieve a result that he desired so much, it was only necessary for
the colonists to act together and with vigor. While he recognized in
Braddock infirmities of temper and insufficient knowledge of his
battlefield, he knew him to be energetic and courageous and he
believed that the first blow, the one that he was to strike at Fort
Duquesne, would inflict a mortal blow upon France in the New World. In
every vigorous measure that he proposed Dinwiddie backed him, and the
other governors, overborne by their will, gave their consent.
While Robert sat with his friends in the shade of a grove, awaiting
the result of the deliberations in the tent, his attention was
attracted by a strong, thick-set figure in a British uniform.
"Colonel Johnson!" he cried, and running forward he shook hands
eagerly with Colonel William Johnson.
"Why, Colonel!" he exclaimed, "I didn't dream that you were here, but
I'm most happy to see you."
"And I to see you, Mr. Lennox, or Robert, as I shall call you," said
Colonel Johnson. "Alexandria is a long journey from Mount Johnson, but
you see I'm here, awaiting the results of this council, which I tell
you may have vast significance for North America."
"But why are you not in the tent with the others, you who know so much
more about conditions on the border than any man who is in there?"
"I am not one of the governors, Robert, my lad, nor am I General
Braddock. Hence I'm not eligible, but I'm not to be neglected. I may
as well tell you that we are planning several expeditions, and that
I'm to lead one in the north."
"And Madam Johnson, and everybody at your home? Are they well?"
"As well of body as human beings can be when I left. Molly told me
that if I saw you to give you her special love. Ah, you young blade,
if you were older I should be jealous, and then, again, perhaps I
shouldn't!"
"And Joseph?"
"Young Thayendanegea? Fierce and warlike as becomes his lineage. He
demands if I lead an army to the war that he go with me, and he scarce
twelve. What is more, he will demand and insist, until I have to take
him. 'Tis a true eagle that young Joseph. But here is Willet! It
soothes my eyes to see you again, brave hunter, and Tayoga, too, who
is fully as welcome."
He shook hands with them both and the Onondaga gravely asked:
"What news of my people, Waraiyageh?"
Colonel Johnson's face clouded.
"Things do not go well between us and the vale of Onondaga," he
replied. "The Hodenosaunee complain of the Indian commissioners at
Albany, and with justice. Moreover, the French advance and the
superior French vigor create a fear that the British and Americans may
lose. Then the Hodenosaunee will be left alone to fight the French and
all the hostile tribes. Father Drouillard has come back and is working
with his converts."
"The nations of the Hodenosaunee will never go with the French,"
declared Tayoga with emphasis. "Although the times seem dark, and
men's minds may waver for a while, they will remain loyal to their
ancient allies. Their doubts will cease, Waraiyageh, when the king
across the sea takes away the power of dealing with us from the Dutch
commissioners at Albany, and gives it to you, you who know us so well
and who have always been our friend."
Colonel Johnson's face flushed with pleasure.
"Your opinion of me is too high, Tayoga," he said, "but I'll not deny
that it gratifies me to hear it."
"Have you heard anything from Fort Refuge, and Colden and Wilton and
the others?" asked Robert.
"An Oneida runner brought a letter just before I left Mount
Johnson. The brave Philadelphia lads still hold the little fortress,
and have occasional skirmishes with wandering bands. Theirs has been a
good work, well done."
But while Colonel Johnson was not a member of the council and could
not sit with it, he had a great reputation with all the governors, and
the next day he was asked to appear before them and General Braddock,
where he was treated with the consideration due to a man of his
achievements, and where the council, without waiting for the authority
of the English king, gave him full and complete powers to treat with
the Hodenosaunee, and to heal the wounds inflicted upon the pride of
the nations by the commissioners at Albany. He was thus made
superintendent of Indian affairs in North America, and he was also as
he had said to lead the expedition against Crown Point. He came forth
from the council exultant, his eyes glowing.
"'Tis even more than I had hoped," he said to Willet, "and now I must
say farewell to you and the brave lads with you. We have come to the
edge of great things, and there is no time to waste."
He hastened northward, the council broke up the next day, and the
visiting governors hurried back to their respective provinces to
prepare for the campaigns, leaving Braddock to strike the first blow.