A PLOT.
We must return to the Manor of New Connaught upon the Elk River.
There we shall find a sorrowful household. The Lord of the Manor is in
captivity; his people are dejected with a presentiment that they are to
see him no more; his wife is lamenting with her children, and counting
the weary days of his imprisonment.
"His hounds they all run masterless,
His hawks they flee from tree to tree."
Everything in the hospitable woodland home is changed. November,
December, January had passed by since Talbot was lodged in the
Gloucester prison, and still no hope dawned upon the afflicted lady. The
forest around her bowled with the rush of the winter wind, but neither
the wilderness nor the winter was so desolate as her own heart. The fate
of her husband was in the hands of his enemies. She trembled at the
thought of his being forced to a trial for his life in Virginia, where
he would be deprived of that friendly sympathy so necessary even to the
vindication of innocence, and where he ran the risk of being condemned
without defence, upon the testimony of exasperated opponents.
But she was a strong-hearted and resolute woman, and would not despair.
She had many friends around her,--friends devoted to her husband and
herself. Amongst these was Phelim Murray, a cornet of cavalry under the
command of Talbot,--a brave, reckless, true-hearted comrade, who had
often shared the hospitality, the adventurous service, and the sports of
his commander.
To Murray I attribute the planning of the enterprise I am now about
to relate. He had determined to rescue his chief from his prison in
Virginia. His scheme required the coöperation of Mrs. Talbot and one of
her youngest children,--the pet boy, perhaps, of the family, some two
or three years old,--I imagine, the special favorite of the father. The
adventure was a bold one, involving many hardships and perils. Towards
the end of January, the lady, accompanied by her boy with his nurse, and
attended by two Irish men-servants, repaired to St. Mary's, where she
was doubtless received as a guest in the mansion of the Proprietary, now
the residence of young Benedict Leonard and those of the family who had
not accompanied Lord Baltimore to England.
Whilst Mrs. Talbot tarried here, the Cornet was busy in his
preparations. He had brought the Colonel's shallop from Elk River to the
Patuxent, and was here concerting a plan to put the little vessel under
the command of some ostensible owner who might appear in the character
of its master to any over-curious or inopportune questioner. He had
found a man exactly to his hand in a certain Roger Skreene, whose name
might almost be thought to be adopted for the occasion and to express
the part he had to act. He was what we may call the sloop's husband, but
was bound to do whatever Murray commanded, to ask no questions, and
to be profoundly ignorant of the real objects of the expedition.
This pliant auxiliary had, like many thrifty--or more probably
thriftless--persons of that time, a double occupation. He was amphibious
in his habits, and lived equally on land and water. At home he was a
tailor, and abroad a seaman, frequently plying his craft as a skipper
on the Bay, and sufficiently known in the latter vocation to render his
present employment a matter to excite no suspicious remark. It will
be perceived in the course of his present adventure that he was quite
innocent of any avowed complicity in the design which he was assisting.
Murray had a stout companion with him, a good friend to Talbot, probably
one of the familiar frequenters of the Manor House of New Connaught,--a
bold fellow, with a hand and a heart both ready for any perilous
service. He may have been a comrade of the Cornet's in his troop. His
name was Hugh Riley,--a name that has been traditionally connected with
dare-devil exploits ever since the days of Dermot McMorrogh. There have
been, I believe, but few hard fights in the world, to which Irishmen
have had anything to say, without a Hugh Riley somewhere in the thickest
part of them.
The preparations being now complete, Murray anchored his shallop near a
convenient landing,--perhaps within the Mattapony Creek.
In the dead of winter, about the 30th of January, 1685, Mrs. Talbot,
with her servants, her child, and nurse, set forth from the Proprietary
residence in St. Mary's, to journey over to the Patuxent,--a cold, bleak
ride of fifteen miles. The party were all on horseback: the young boy,
perhaps, wrapped in thick coverings, nestling in the arms of one of the
men: Mrs. Talbot braving the sharp wind in hood and cloak, and warmed
by her own warm heart, which beat with a courageous pulse against the
fierce blasts that swept and roared across her path. Such a cavalcade,
of course, could not depart from St. Mary's without observation at any
season; but at this time of the year so unusual a sight drew every
inhabitant to the windows, and set in motion a current of gossip that
bore away all other topics from every fireside. The gentlemen of the
Council, too, doubtless had frequent conference with the unhappy wife of
their colleague, during her sojourn in the Government House, and perhaps
secretly counselled with her on her adventure. Whatever outward or
seeming pretext may have been adopted for this movement, we can hardly
suppose that many friends of the Proprietary were ignorant of its
object. We have, indeed, evidence that the enemies of the Proprietary
charged the Council with a direct connivance in the scheme of Talbot's
escape, and made it a subject of complaint against Lord Baltimore that
he afterwards approved of it.
Upon her arrival at the Patuxent, Mrs. Talbot went immediately on board
of the sloop, with her attendants. There she found the friendly cornet
and his comrade, Hugh Riley, on the alert to distinguish their loyalty
in her cause. The amphibious Master Skreene was now at the head of a
picked crew,--the whole party consisting of five stout men, with the
lady, her child, and nurse. All the men but Skreene were sons of the
Emerald Isle,--of a race whose historical boast is the faithfulness of
their devotion to a friend in need and their chivalrous courtesy to
woman, but still more their generous and gallant championship of woman
in distress. On this occasion this national sentiment was enhanced when
it was called into exercise in behalf of the sorrowful lady of the chief
of their border settlements.
They set sail from the Patuxent on Saturday, the 31st of January. On
Wednesday, the fifth day afterwards, they landed on the southern bank of
the Rappahannock, at the house of Mr. Ralph Wormeley, near the mouth of
the river. This long voyage of five days over so short a distance would
seem to indicate that they departed from the common track of navigation
to avoid notice.
The next morning Mr. Wormeley furnished them horses and a servant, and
Mrs. Talbot, with the nurse and child, under the conduct of Cornet
Murray, set out for Gloucester,--a distance of some twenty miles. The
day following,--that is, on Friday,--the servant returned with the
horses, having left the party behind. Saturday passed and part of
Sunday, when, in the evening, Mrs. Talbot and the Cornet reappeared at
Mr. Wormeley's. The child and nurse had been left behind; and this was
accounted for by Mrs. Talbot's saying she had left the child with his
father, to remain with him until she should return to Virginia. I infer
that the child was introduced into this adventure to give some seeming
to the visit which might lull suspicion and procure easier access to the
prisoner; and the leaving of him in Gloucester proves that Mrs. Talbot
had friends, and probably confederates there, to whose care he was
committed.
As soon as the party had left the shallop, upon their first arrival at
Mr. Wormeley's, the wily Master Skreene discovered that he had business
at a landing farther up the river; and thither he straightway took his
vessel,--Wormeley's being altogether too suspicious a place for him to
frequent. And now, when Mrs. Talbot had returned to Wormeley's, Roger's
business above, of course, was finished, and he dropped down again
opposite the house on Monday evening; and the next morning took the
Cornet and the lady on board. Having done this, he drew out into the
river. This brings us to Tuesday, the 10th of February.
As soon as Mrs. Talbot was once more embarked in the shallop, Murray and
Riley (I give Master Skreene's own account of the facts, as I find it in
his testimony subsequently taken before the Council) made a pretext to
go on shore, taking one of the men with them. They were going to look
for a cousin of this man,--so they told Skreene,--and besides that,
intended to go to a tavern to buy a bottle of rum: all of which Skreene
gives the Council to understand he verily believed to be the real object
of their visit.
The truth was, that, as soon as Murray and Riley and their companion had
reached the shore, they mounted on horseback and galloped away in the
direction of Gloucester prison. From the moment they disappeared on this
gallop until their return, we have no account of what they did. Roger
Skreene's testimony before the Council is virtuously silent on this
point.
After this party was gone, Mrs. Talbot herself took command, and, with a
view to more privacy, ordered Roger to anchor near the opposite shore of
the river, taking advantage of the concealment afforded by a small inlet
on the northern side. Skreene says he did this at her request, because
she expressed a wish to taste some of the oysters from that side of the
river, which he, with his usual facility, believed to be the only reason
for getting into this unobserved harbor; and, merely to gratify this
wish, he did as she desired.
The day went by slowly to the lady on the water. Cold February, a little
sloop, and the bleak roadstead at the mouth of the Rappahannock brought
but few comforts to the anxious wife, who sat muffled upon that unstable
deck, watching the opposite shore, whilst the ceaseless plash of the
waves breaking upon her ear numbered the minutes that marked the weary
hours, and the hours that marked the still more weary day. She watched
for the party who had galloped into the sombre pine-forest that
sheltered the road leading to Gloucester, and for the arrival of that
cousin of whom Murray spoke to Master Skreene.
But if the time dragged heavily with her, it flew with the Cornet and
his companions. We cannot tell when the twenty miles to Gloucester were
thrown behind them, but we know that the whole forty miles of going and
coming were accomplished by sunrise the next morning. For the deposition
tells us that Roger Skreene had become very impatient at the absence of
his passengers,--at least, so he swears to the Council; and he began to
think, just after the sun was up, that, as they had not returned, they
must have got into a revel at the tavern, and forgotten themselves;
which careless demeanor of theirs made him think of recrossing the river
and of going ashore to beat them up; when, lo! all of a sudden, he spied
a boat coming round the point within which he lay. And here arises a
pleasant little dramatic scene, of some interest to our story.
Mrs. Talbot had been up at the dawn, and watched upon the deck,
straining her sight, until she could see no more for tears; and at
length, unable to endure her emotion longer, had withdrawn to the cabin.
Presently Skreene came hurrying down to tell her that the boat was
coming,--and, what surprised him, there were _four_ persons in it. "Who
is this fourth man?" he asked her,--with his habitual simplicity, "and
how are we to get him back to the shore again?"--a very natural question
for Roger to ask, after all that had passed in his presence! Mrs. Talbot
sprang to her feet,--her eyes sparkling, as she exclaimed, with a cheery
voice, "Oh, his cousin has come!"--and immediately ran upon the deck
to await the approaching party. There were pleasant smiling faces all
around, as the four men came over the sloop's side; and although the
testimony is silent as to the fact, there might have been some little
kissing on the occasion. The new-comer was in a rough dress, and had the
exterior of a servant; and our skipper says in his testimony, that "Mrs.
Talbot spoke to him in the Irish language": very volubly, I have no
doubt, and that much was said that was never translated. When they
came to a pause in this conversation, she told Skreene, by way of
interpretation, "he need not be uneasy about the stranger's going on
shore, nor delay any longer, as this person had made up his mind to go
with them to Maryland."
So the boat was made fast, the anchor was weighed, the sails were set,
and the little sloop bent to the breeze and kissed the wave, as she
rounded the headland and stood up the Bay, with Colonel George Talbot
encircling with his arm his faithful wife, and with the gallant Cornet
Murray sitting at his side.
They had now an additional reason for caution against search. So Murray
ordered the skipper to shape his course over to the eastern shore, and
to keep in between the islands and the main. This is a broad circuit
outside of their course; but Roger is promised a reward by Mrs. Talbot,
to compensate him for his loss of time; and the skipper is very willing.
They had fetched a compass, as the Scripture phrase is, to the shore of
Dorset County, and steered inside of Hooper's Island, into the month of
Hungary River. Here it was part of the scheme to dismiss the faithful
Roger from further service. With this view they landed on the island and
went to Mr. Hooper's house, where they procured a supply of provisions,
and immediately afterwards reembarked,--having clean forgotten Roger,
until they were once more under full sail up the Bay, and too far
advanced to turn back!
The deserted skipper bore his disappointment like a Christian; and being
asked, on Hungary River, by a friend who met him there, and who gave his
testimony before the Council, "What brought him there?" he replied, "He
had been left on the island by Madam Talbot." And to another, "Where
Madam Talbot was?" he answered, "She had gone up the Bay to her own
house." Then, to a third question, "How he expected his pay?" he said,
"He was to have it of Colonel Darnall and Major Sewall; and that Madam
Talbot had promised him a hogshead of tobacco extra, for putting ashore
at Hooper's Island." The last question was, "What news of Talbot?" and
Roger's answer, "He had not been within twenty miles of him; neither did
he know anything about the Colonel" !! But, on further discourse, he let
fall, that "he knew the Colonel never would come to a trial,"--"that
_he_ knew this; but neither man, woman, nor child should know it, but
those who knew it already."
So Colonel George Talbot is out of the hands of the proud Lord
Effingham, and up the Bay with his wife and friends; and is buffeting
the wintry head-winds in a long voyage to the Elk River, which, in due
time, he reaches in safety.