The martial sounds of drums and trumpets had scarcely died away over the
distant hills, when Sir William Berkley despatched couriers to the
various military outposts of the colony, peremptorily ordering the
commanders to march forthwith to Jamestown with the forces under their
command. To these couriers also were given secret instructions for the
private ears of such of his loyal friends among the Cavaliers living on
their routes, as he knew would adhere to him under any circumstances,
urgently soliciting their immediate presence at the capital. After these
were despatched, he summoned a secret conclave of such friends, equally
worthy of his trust, as were yet to be found in the city.
Thus were they engaged, as General Bacon, habited in the rich military
fashion of the day, rode along the north western skirt of the city, his
own gay attire, and the splendid trappings of his horse wretchedly
mocking the desolation within. He drew up at the back court of the
Berkley Arms, dismounted, and passed immediately into a private room.
Having despatched a servant for the landlord, he employed the time
before he made his appearance, in meditations upon the singular and
protracted absence of Brian O'Reily, the new responsibilities which he
had just assumed, and the present condition and future destinies of the
fair invalid at the gubernatorial mansion.
When the landlord entered he quickly demanded if Doctor Roland had
inquired for him during the forenoon, and was answered that he had not.
A servant was despatched with a note to the Doctor repeating his request
for an interview of five minutes at the Arms. After he had waited some
time in the most intense impatience, the servant returned with a verbal
message stating that the doctor would wait on Gen. Bacon immediately.
"From whom did you obtain this answer?"
"From the porter at the door, sir."
"Very well, you may retire!"
As he sat impatiently listening for the heavy footsteps of the doctor,
he heard a light fairy foot tripping up the stairs, toward his room, and
in the next instant a gentle tap at the door. His heart almost leaped to
his mouth as he indistinctly bade the applicant to come in. "Can it be
possible," said he to himself, "that Virginia has escaped from her
jailers? Was the story of her illness but an invention of the
Governor's?"
Before he had answered these questions to his own satisfaction, the door
was suddenly thrust backward and Harriet Harrison stood before him.
She was pale, agitated, and gasping for breath, as she threw herself
unasked into a seat. Bacon was from his previous emotions scarcely more
composed, and his heart beat tumultuously against his doublet, as he
endeavoured vainly to offer the courtesies due to her sex and standing.
"Oh, Mr. Bacon!" (gasped the agitated girl) "fly for your life."
"On what account, my dear young lady?"
"I'll tell you as quick as I can. I had just obtained admission to-day
to Virginia's room for the first time, when, after having spent the
time, and more, allotted to me by the doctor, as I was coming down the
stairs I had to pass the door of Sir William's library, and I
accidentally overheard him giving orders to an officer to collect some
soldiers from the barracks and make you a prisoner in this house. How he
knew you were here I know not; but I was no sooner out of the door than
I flew to the back court below, demanded of the servant holding your
horse to point out your room, and rushed in in this strange manner to
put you on your guard. Now, fly for your life--you have not a moment to
lose!"
"One word of Virginia, your fair friend, and I am gone. Will she
survive? Is her reason unsettled? Does she believe the strange story of
the Recluse?"
"In a word then, she is better--of sound mind, and in her heart does not
believe one word of that story, though sober reason is strangely
perplexed."
"One word more, and I have done. Does she inquire for me?"
"The very first word she said to me was, 'Does Nathaniel believe it?'
Now go, while yet you may. Should any new emergency arise in your
absence I will despatch a courier after you."
"Yet one message to Virginia. Tell her that I have accidentally
discovered in the trinket preserved by her father, and worn by me in the
days of my infancy, the likeness of her whom I have every reason to
believe my mother. Tell her not to hope too sanguinely, but to give that
circumstance its weight, and trust to the developments of time; and now
I commit you both, my dearest friends, to the protection of an
overruling Providence; farewell."
With these parting words he rushed down stairs, mounted his fleet
charger, and swiftly left the court just as the Governor's emissaries
entered the front porch of the house to arrest him.
Harriet drew her veil closely over her face, and almost as fleetly
sought her father's dwelling.
Our hero in a very few minutes placed the river which separates the
island from the main land between him and his pursuers. The sun was yet
above the western horizon, and the clouds which spread in fleecy and
stationary masses, were tinted with the softest hues of the violet and
the rose, filling the mind with pleasing images of repose, cheerfulness,
and hope. These soothing and delightful influences of the summer evening
were in a great measure lost however upon our hero as he pursued his
solitary way through the unbroken forest in the immediate footsteps of
the army.
Besides the inevitable suspense attending the developments of his own
origin and destiny--there were immediate anticipations before him of no
pleasing character. He had just assumed the responsibilities of an
office, which at the very outset was attended with the most painful
embarrassments. His keen military eye ran over the ground occupied by
the enemies of his country, and perceived at once that to make his
enterprise completely and permanently successful, the savages must be
driven entirely from the peninsula.
The very first on the list of these nations was the Chickahominy, at the
head of which was the youthful queen, who had so lately perilled her
life and her authority for his own salvation from the tortures of her
countrymen. His decisive and energetic mind perceived the stern
necessity which existed of driving these melancholy relics of once
powerful nations far distant from the haunts of the white man. The
question was not now presented to his mind, whether a foreign nation
should land upon the shores of these aboriginal possessors. That
question had long since been decided. It was now a matter of life or
death with the European settlers and their descendants--a question of
existence or no existence--permanent peace or continual murders. The
whites had tried all the conciliatory measures of which they supposed
themselves possessed. Peace after peace had succeeded to the frequent
fires and bloodshed of the savages. The calumet had been smoked time
after time, and hostage after hostage had been exchanged, yet there was
no peace and security for the white man. The right of the aboriginals to
the soil was indeed plain and indisputable; yet now that the Europeans
were in possession, whether by purchase or conquest, the absolute
necessity of offensive warfare against them was equally plain and
unquestioned in his mind. These views had been hastily communicated to
the council of officers held on the banks of the river, at the
commencement of the march, and unanimously concurred in by them.
Notwithstanding this unanimity of opinion among his associates in
command, the very first duty which presented itself in accordance with
these views, harrowed his feelings in the most painful manner. His
imagination carried him forward to the succeeding morning, when his
followers would in all probability be carrying fire and sword into the
heart of the settlement ruled by his preserver. As the refined and
feeling surgeon weeps in secret over the necessity of a painful and
dangerous operation upon a delicate female friend, yet subdues his
feelings and steels his nerves for the approaching trial, so our
youthful commander silenced the rising weakness in his heart, and urged
his steed still deeper into the forest. He determined to temper and
soften stern necessity with humanity.
A few hours' ride brought him up with the baggage and artillery of the
army. The sun had already gone down, but a brilliant starlight, and a
balmy and serene air revived his drooping spirits, as he swiftly passed
these lumbering appendages.
Scarcely had he placed himself at the head of the marching column, and
perceived that the flower and chivalry of his command--the mounted
Cavaliers, were still in advance of him, before the sharp quick report
of their fire-arms was heard at some three quarters of a mile distance
in advance. These were quickly succeeded by the savage war-whoop, and in
a few moments a bright red column of fire and smoke shot up towards the
heavens immediately in front. His spurs were dashed into his charger's
flanks, and he flew through the fitfully illuminated forest toward a
gently swelling hill from beyond which the light seemed to proceed.
When he had gained this eminence, a sight greeted his eyes which
awakened all the tenderest sympathies of his nature. Orapacs, the sole
remaining village of the Chickahominies--the scene of his late
tortures--as well as his preservation, was wrapped in flames. Ever and
anon a terrified or wounded savage came darting through the forest
heedless alike of him and of the martial sounds in his rear. He reined
up his courser on the summit and sadly viewed the scene.
His commands were no longer necessary for the existing emergency. The
deed, for which he had been so laboriously and studiously preparing his
mind was done. The royal wigwam, the very scene of his shelter, and of
Wyanokee's hospitality, was already enveloped by the devouring element.
A few struggling and desperate warriors still kept up the unequal
contest, but in a few moments, even the despairing yells of these were
hushed in the cold and everlasting silence of death. Painfully and
intently he gazed upon the crumbling walls of the once peaceful home of
his Indian friend. He could perceive no appearance of the unfortunate
queen. His imagination immediately conjured up the image of the heroic
maiden, her form bleeding and mutilated as it lay among the last
defenders of the land of her fathers. By a singular sophistry of the
mind, he consoled himself by the reflection, that the orders had not
proceeded from his lips--that his hand had no part in the matter,
although he had himself laid down the plan of the campaign, of which the
scene before him was the first result. True, he had mentioned no exact
time for the accomplishment of this measure, and the ardour of his young
companions in arms had outstripped his own intentions; nevertheless, the
design was his, however much he might soothe his own feelings by the
want of personal participation.
By the time that the infantry and heavy artillery had arrived upon the
spot occupied by their General, the village of Orapacs was a heap of
smouldering ruins. The scene was again covered with darkness, save when
it was illuminated at intervals by a fitful gleam, as some quivering
ruin fell tardily among the smouldering embers of the walls which had
already fallen. He assumed the command of his troops, and marched them
into the plain between the place they then occupied, and the site of the
melancholy scene we have described. By his orders also, the trumpets
were ordered to command the return of the impetuous Cavaliers. Dudley
and his compatriots soon came bounding over the plain, exhilarated with
the first flush of success, and not a little surprised at the cold and
respectful salutations which greeted them from their commander. Most of
them, however, were acquainted with his late sufferings and feeble
bodily health, and to this cause they were willing to attribute his
present want of euthusiasm.
Bacon had no sooner issued the necessary orders for the night than,
taking Dudley by the arm, he walked forth into the forest beyond the
sentinels already posted.
"Tell me, Dudley," (said he in a hurried and agitated voice,) "was she
slain?"
"Was who slain?"
"The queen of these dominions!"
"No, I believe not. I think she was borne from the scene early in the
conflict, by some of her tribe."
"Thank God!" he fervently ejaculated, and then addressing himself to his
aid, he continued, "Return, Dudley, to the camp--superintend the
execution of the orders I have issued for our security, in person, but
follow me not, and suffer no one, either officer or soldier, to approach
the ruins. I will return in the course of a couple of hours."
Having thus spoken, he suddenly disappeared through the forest, and his
companion returned to the camp.
With slow and melancholy steps our hero approached the late busy and
animated scene. The beasts of prey were sending up their savage, but
plaintive notes in horrible unison with his own feelings. The cool
evening breeze fanned the dying embers, and occasionally loaded the
atmosphere with brilliant showers of sparks and flakes of fire. As these
rolled over his person and fell dead upon his garments, he folded his
arms, and contemplated the ruins of the wigwam in which he had found
protection.
"There," said he, "was perhaps the birth-place of a hundred monarchs of
these forests. Until civilized man intruded upon these dominions, they
were in their own, and nature's way, joyous, prosperous, and happy. They
have resided amidst the shades of these venerable trees, perhaps since
time began! The very waters of the stream bubbling joyously over yonder
pebbles, have borrowed their name. Where are they all now? The last male
youth of their kingly line was slain by these hands, and the last
habitations of his race fired and plundered by soldiers owing obedience
to my commands. The plough and the harrow will soon break down alike
their hearth-stones and the scene of their council fires. Yea, and the
very monuments of their dead must be levelled to meet the ever craving
demands of civilized existence. But pshaw! is this the preparation to
steel a soldier's heart, and fire it with military ardour and
enthusiasm? Let me rather ponder upon my own sufferings on this spot.
Let me remember the groans of dying old men, women, and children, which
rent the air twelve hours since. And above all, let me bear in mind the
despairing shrieks of her, who was more than a mother to me, of her who
clothed and fed and protected me in infancy. Where is she now?"
"She is alive and well!" answered a feeble and plaintive voice from the
wild flowers and shrubbery which grew upon an earthen monument erected
to the savage dead.
"Who is it that speaks?"
"One that had better have slept with those who sleep beneath!"
"Wyanokee?"
"Ay, who is left but Wyanokee and these mouldering bones beneath, of all
the proud race that once trod these plains unchallenged, and free as the
water that bubbles at your feet."
He approached the rude monument as she spoke. It consisted of a
grass-grown mount some thirty feet in length, by ten in height and
breadth, and was surmounted by thick clustering briers and wild flowers.
The youthful queen was sitting upon the margin of the tumulus, her head
resting upon her hand, and it in its turn supported on her knee. As the
officer approached, she stood erect upon the mount. Her person was clad
and ornamented much as when he had last seen her, except that above one
shoulder protruded a richly carved unstrung bow, and from the other, a
quiver of feather-tipped arrows crossing the bow near her waist. The
soldier replied,
"It is almost useless for me to profess now, how wholly, how profoundly,
I sympathize with you in witnessing this scene of desolation. Naught but
the dictates of inevitable necessity could have induced the army under
my command to perpetrate this melancholy devastation. But I trust that
the soothing influences of time, your own good sense, and the
ministrations of your kind white friends, will reconcile you to these
stern decrees of fate."
"Kind indeed is the white man's sympathy--very kind. He applies the
torch to the wigwam of his red friend, shoots at his women and children
as they run from the destruction within, and then he weeps over the
ruins which his own hands have made."
"It is even so, Wyanokee. I do not expect you to understand or
appreciate my feelings upon the instant; but when you are once again
peacefully settled at Jamestown with your sorrowing young friend, and
will cast your eyes over this vast and fertile country, and see to what
little ends its resources are wasted, and on the other hand, what
countless multitudes are driven hither by the crowded state of other
parts of the world, you will begin to see the necessity which is driving
your red brethren to the far west. You can then form some conception of
the now unseen power behind, which is urging them forward. You will see
the great comprehension and sublime spectacle of God's political
economy! you will see it in its beauty and its justice. You feel the
partial and limited effects of these swelling waves of the great
creation now upon yourself and your nation. I grant they are hard to be
borne, but once place yourself above these personal considerations, and
compare the demands of a world with the handful of warriors lying dead
around those ruins, and you will bow to the justice of the decree which
has gone forth against your people!"
"Does your Great Spirit then only care for the good of his white
children? You taught me to believe that he too created the red men, and
placed them upon these hunting grounds, that he cared as much for them
as he did for their white brethren--but now it seems he is angry with
the poor red man, because he lives and hunts as he was taught, by the
Great Spirit himself. These hunting grounds are now wanted for his other
children, and those to whom he first gave them, must not only yield them
up, but they must be driven by the fire and the thunder, and the long
knives of those who have been professing themselves our brethren."
"Your view of the case is a very natural and plausible one, yet it seems
to me you have overlooked that point in it, upon which the whole matter
turns. Let us for one moment grant the necessity of making room on your
hunting grounds for your white brethren, who are crowded out of the
older countries. There seemed at first no need to disturb the red men,
there was room enough here for all, we were content to live upon this
kind and neighbourly footing. Had your brethren been equally content,
the great purposes of the Creator would have been answered without any
destruction of his red or white children. Have the red men so demeaned
themselves toward the whites that we could all dwell here together? Let
the massacre of last night speak! You point to yonder smouldering ruins
and bloody corpses. I point to the bleeding bodies of my countrymen and
friends, and their demolished dwellings as the cause--the direct cause
of the desolation you behold."
"The white man talks very fast--and very well--he talks for the Great
Spirit and himself too; but who talks for the poor red man, but
Wyanokee. All you say is very good for the white men upon our hunting
grounds, and the white men driven from over the great waters, and for
the white men left behind. It leaves room to hunt and plant corn _there_
for the white men, and finds room _here_ to hunt and plant corn, but you
do not give the poor red man any hunting ground. You say we must go to
the far west, but how long will it be the far west? How many of your
white friends are coming over the big waters? How far is this place,
where the red man will not be driven from his new hunting ground? If we
cannot live and smoke the calumet of peace together, we must have
separate hunting grounds. Where are our hunting grounds? Ah, I see your
eye reaches where the clouds and the blue mountains come together--to
the end of the world, we must go, like those beneath us to the hunting
grounds of the Great Spirit."
"Not so, Wyanokee, we would willingly spare the effusion of blood, and
when our arms have taught the men who assembled here two days ago, our
firm determination always to avenge the murder of our friends and the
plunder of their property, it is our intention to propose a fair and
permanent peace. We will endeavour to convince them of the necessity of
abandoning for ever the country between these two great rivers, and
moving their hunting grounds where the interests of the two races cannot
come in conflict."
"O yes, you will run the long knives through their bodies, and then
smoke the calumet! You will drive us from our homes, and then you will
persuade us to give them up to the white man."
"You are not now in a proper mood to reason upon this subject calmly, my
gentle friend, nor do I wonder at it; but the time will come when your
views of this matter will be similar to my own."
"No, Wyanokee cannot see through the white man's eyes; she has not yet
learned to forget her kindred and her country. She came here to-night to
sit upon the graves of the great hunters and warriors who slept here
with their calumets and tomahawks beside them, long before the long
knives came among us. She will carry away from this place to night, this
little flower planted by her own hands over the graves of her fathers
and brothers. She would leave it here to spread its flowers over their
ancient war paths and their graves, but even these silent and peaceful
bones, and these harmless flowers must share the fate of them who buried
the one and planted the other. Wyanokee will never see this place
more--never again be near the bones of her fathers, until she meets them
all at the hunting ground of the Great Spirit. Farewell, home and
country and friends, and fare thee well, ungrateful man; when next the
Indian maiden steps between thee and the tomahawk of her countrymen
repay not her kindness with the torch to her wigwam and the long knife
to her heart."
With these bitter words of parting, she descended from the mound with
dignity, and disappeared through the forest, notwithstanding the urgent
entreaties of Bacon, that she would return. She gave no other evidence
of heeding him than turning back the palm of her hand toward him, and
leaning her head in the opposite direction, as if she were exorcising an
evil spirit. He made no other attempt to stay her progress; once indeed
the thought occurred to him to hail the sentinel and arrest her for her
own sake, but the idea was as speedily abandoned. He determined to leave
her destiny wholly in the hands of him who first decreed it. For a
moment he ascended the mount and cast his eye over the wide-spread and
melancholy desolation, and then rapidly retraced his steps to the camp.
When there, his first orders were to have the slain warriors of the
expatriated tribes, buried in the tomb of their forefathers, while his
own personal attention was bestowed upon the condition of the prisoners
taken during the demolition of the village.
They sat round the tents appropriated to their use, in stern and sullen
dignity. Wounded or whole, no sound escaped their lips; and their food
and drink remained untouched before them. They noticed the entrance of
the commander in chief no more than if he had been an insignificant
creeping reptile of the earth; no signs of recognition lighted up their
features, though most or all of them must have been present at the scene
of his own tortures. While Bacon stood no unmoved spectator of the calm
unshaken fortitude with which they bore their misfortunes, an incident
occurred that served to exhibit the stern qualities of their pride in
still bolder relief. One of the old warriors had been taken while
attempting to escape with one of his children, after having fought
until there was not a vestige of hope remaining for the preservation of
his people and their homes. He was brought into the camp, together with
his child. While the prisoners were all sitting round in sullen dignity,
and the general of the invading army stood surveying them as we have
mentioned, this little child came entreatingly to its father's knees,
and begged for the food which stood untouched before his face. He made
no verbal reply--a momentary weakness softened his countenance as he
gazed into the face of the tender petitioner, but in the next, he raised
his tomahawk and sank it deep into the brain of his child before any one
could arrest his arm. The innocent and unconscious victim fell without a
groan or struggle, and the stern old warrior reinserted the handle of
his weapon in his belt, crossed his arms upon his breast, and resumed
his former attitude of immobility. Bacon gazed at him in astonishment
and horror for an instant, and then wheeled suddenly round to retire
from an exhibition of humanity, so rude, ferocious, and appalling. But
as he was about to emerge from the portal of the tent, Wyanokee was
rudely thrust into the door, and they stood face to face.
His first impulse was to draw his sword, and rush upon the two soldiers
who had guarded the prisoner, but a moment's reflection served to remind
him that they had but obeyed his own general orders. He returned the
half drawn weapon therefore, and stood an embarrassed spectator of the
captive maiden's searching glances, as her eyes wandered around the
room, first resting upon her unfortunate companions in captivity, next
upon the corpse of the slain infant, and lastly upon the commander
himself. He had seen her previously when her subdued manners and
lady-like deportment, inclined him in communing with her to forget her
Indian origin, but he saw her now with all her native impulses roused to
their highest tension. Her eye flashed fire as it rested upon him after
completing her survey, and she thus addressed him, stepping a few paces
backward, while her person was drawn up to its utmost height, and her
bosom heaved with struggling emotions.
"Are you the same person who sometime since undertook to inspire noble
sentiments into the mind of the purest being that ever honoured a white
skin? Are you the same youth who aspired to her hand and renounced it on
the marriage night, because of kindred blood? Are you the youth whose
fair and deceitful form, and apparently noble nature, once made Wyanokee
look with contempt upon this heroic race of warriors? If the form, the
person be the same, the Great Spirit of evil has poisoned the fountains
of your heart, and turned your goodness and your honour to cruelty and
cunning. How far has the great light gone down behind the sea, since you
stood upon the ruins of all that Wyanokee loved, and professed sorrow
for their destruction, and sympathy in her misfortunes? When you stood
before her, and dared not lay your own hands upon her person!--you could
leave her untouched upon the grave of her great warriors--you dared not
seek to injure her, lest their spirits should return from the happy
hunting ground and kill you on the spot. But you could deceitfully order
these poor long knives to stand in her path and prevent her from taking
the last look, and heaving the last sigh that should ever be looked and
uttered in these forests."
"I gave no orders for your arrest, Wyanokee; I have not spoken to the
sentinels since I saw you!"
"But you could stand and mourn with Wyanokee over the ashes of her
fathers' wigwam, when you had just come from ordering these to carry her
into captivity. They told me themselves that they acted by your orders.
Oh how cruel, how deceitful is the white man! He gladdens the poor
Indian's eyes with his glittering toys, till he cheats him of all the
corn laid up for his squaws during the winter. He smokes the calumet
with the chiefs, while his own followers are burning down the houses of
their nation. You, sir, redeemed Wyanokee from captivity, to carry her
into a more galling bondage. You taught her the knowledge of the white
man, only that she might multiply her sorrows, when this long foreseen
night should come. Was it for this that she redeemed you from the red
hot tortures of these chiefs? Did you come upon their hunting ground to
learn how to torture in preparation for this occasion, and trusting to
Wyanokee's soft and foolish heart for your safe return? Lead them and
her to the stake! we will show the white warrior how to endure the
tortures of our enemies without fainting like women."
"You will not listen to me, Wyanokee, else I could have told you long
ago, that I had given no orders to the sentinels. We do not desire your
captivity? you are free to go now whithersoever you choose, provided you
keep beyond the range of our sentinels. What our race has done against
yours, has only been done to protect their own lives and property, and
to make that protection secure and permanent. You know that we never
torture prisoners; when the war is ended and peace obtained, these
warriors shall go free and unharmed. I see that they have refused to
touch their food, under the belief that they are to suffer, but I will
leave you to undeceive them, after which you are free to go or to
remain. If the latter be your choice, a tent shall be provided for your
sole accommodation."
Having thus spoken, he hastily left the tent and sought the marquee
occupied by the higher grade of officers and the more aristocratic of
the Cavaliers. Gay sounds of song and minstrelsy greeted his ears as he
approached the spot--Bacchanalian scraps promiscuously chimed in chorus
with more sentimental ditties, and all occasionally drowned in
boisterous shouts of laughter. These evidences of the mood in which he
should find his associates deterred him from entering, under his present
feelings, and he therefore passed on to his own solitary quarters. In a
few moments he was extended upon such a bed as a camp affords, with no
external source of interruption to his repose, save the distant cries of
the wild beasts, and the more monotonous tread of the sentinel, as he
paced his narrow limits in the performance of his duty.
The sun rose the next morning over the ruins of Orapacs and the scene of
the late strife in unclouded splendour. The enlivening notes of drums
and trumpets had long since roused the soldiers from their slumbers, and
having despatched their morning meal, they were speedily forming into
marching order. The commander of this imposing little army mounted his
charger, and galloped along the forming battalions; his eye bright and
serene, his spirits, in comparison with the previous night, bounding and
elastic. Having detailed to his council of officers his intention of
next attacking the king of Pamunky, the orders for the march were given,
and the lines wheeled into columns, headed by the gay and brilliant
_cortege_ of youthful Cavaliers.
The prisoners were marched into the centre of the column, and as they
assumed their station, the general ran his anxious eye eagerly over
their persons, to ascertain whether his former pupil had availed
herself of the accommodations provided by his orders. But no such
graceful form greeted his sight, and he learned from the Captain of the
guard that she had departed soon after he had himself left the
prisoners--entirely alone. A momentary sadness shaded his brow, as he
reflected upon the desolate condition of the Indian maiden, but it was
soon lost in the absorbing duties of his station.
Toward evening, of the ensuing day, as the army pursued their route
between the Chickahominy and Pamunky Rivers, the vanguard discovered
several of the Pamunky tribe, skulking among the trees of the forest
immediately in advance of them. The general, apprehending an ambuscade,
immediately ordered the Cavaliers to fall back upon the main body of the
army, while a practised band of rangers were ordered to examine the
cover of the wood. Scarcely had these orders been transmitted to their
various destinations, before a bright beacon fire shot its spiral column
of smoke and flame high above the surrounding trees. What this new
device portended the commander could not divine, nor could the council,
which was immediately summoned, give to it a satisfactory
interpretation. The Rangers returned without discovering any signs of an
ambuscade, though they had penetrated to the huge fire which lighted up
the forest. Not an Indian was to be seen there or beyond. Bacon and his
staff rode forward to the scene in person--but the aid of a glass
enabled him to discover nothing more.
The army was again put in motion, and every precaution used which some
experience in Indian warfare had taught the general was so necessary.
For miles they proceeded with the most watchful caution, until the
absence of the undergrowth in the forest taught them that it had been
fired, and thereby disclosed the probability of their being in the near
neighbourhood of the town of the Pamunkies. The verdant glades were
lighted up at intervals by broad masses of red light from the setting
sun, as they fell between the natural interstices of the trees. The
appearance of the woodland vista before them was romantic and
picturesque in the extreme. The forest had the aspect of a country which
had been settled for ages. The venerable trees, surmounted with green
and brown moss, were now occasionally richly bronzed with the rays of
the sun as they fell horizontally upon their hoary trunks, and the whole
more resembled an ancient and venerable park, which some wealthy
gentleman had inherited from careful and provident ancestors, than a
wild woodland, fresh from the hands of nature, in which the woodman's
axe had never been heard, and upon which no other care or culture had
been bestowed than the occasional torch of the savage.
They were not left long to revel in these wild beauties--a more
appalling scene awaited them. The sun was fast declining behind the
river hills of the Chickahominy and darkness encircling the sombre
groves in which they rode, when suddenly a hundred fires cast a lurid
glare across their path, and the army instinctively halted on beholding
the town of the Pamunkies wrapped in flames. Again they were put in
motion, and cautiously approached the spot. Bacon fearing that some
treachery lurked beneath these unexpected measures of the Indians, could
scarcely restrain the impetuosity of his mounted force, spurred on by
curiosity to see in what new device of savage warfare they would
terminate.
They arrived upon the skirts of the town, however, and within the
influence of the heat, without hindrance or adventure; and what no less
surprised them, not a living creature was perceptible, around or near
the conflagration.
The first idea that suggested itself to the mind of Bacon was, that the
savages had, in despair, thrown themselves into the burning ruins of
their own dwellings. He now understood the meaning of the beacon light
on their route; "it was the signal for commencing the tragedy," he
muttered to himself as he reined up his steed and ordering his troops to
halt, brought them into line along the outskirts of the burning village,
which, like the one they had themselves fired, was constructed upon the
banks of the Pamunky river. While the troops thus stood upon their arms,
some of the officers rode through the blazing wigwams, very much
against the will of their rearing and plunging chargers. It was
completely deserted; but while they were consulting upon the measures to
be taken, a tumultuous and astounding yell burst suddenly upon their
startled ears. The intense light of the burning village rendered the
twilight gloom around as dark as midnight by the contrast, and not a
savage could anywhere be seen. The mounted troop made a wide sweep round
the alignment, but with no better success. Another astounding shout of
savage voices ascended to the clouds. Many of the frail and tottering
wigwams tumbled in at the same moment--throwing the light in a lower
line of vision over the water, so that they were enabled to discover a
large body of mounted Pamunkies drawn up like themselves on the opposite
bank of the river. Their grim and painted visages, close shaven crowns,
scalp locks, and gaudy feathers, appeared through the medium of the red
and flickering light reflected from the water, in horrible distinctness.
A legion of devils from the infernal regions, clothed in all the horrors
of German poetry, never startled the senses and aroused the imagination
more than did this spectacle its amazed beholders. With another yell and
a flourish of their tomahawks above their heads, the Indians
simultaneously wheeled their horses and flew over the plain towards the
source of the river. In a few moments all was silent as death, save the
crackling of the burning wigwams. The squaws and children seemed to have
been long since removed. Again the colonial army--or to speak more
properly, the army of the people, encamped before the ruins of an
ancient and venerable settlement.
Here were no painful reminiscences for the sensitive but energetic
commander. The savages were flying before his as yet scarcely tried
army, in the very direction in which it was his purpose to drive them.
He knew them too well to believe that the whole peninsula would be thus
tamely abandoned, and he issued his orders, before lying down to rest,
for redoubled vigilance through the night, and an early march in the
morning toward the falls of the Powhatan, where he had every reason to
believe that the tribes of the former confederacy were again drawing to
a head.