University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.
THE OUTBREAK.

FLEMING, aware that he could not obtain an audience of the
governor by applying at the front gate, took his way around
the grounds to the entrance of the garden. He found this gate
closed and locked within; but having a key furnished by the hands
of the governor's daughter, he placed it in the wards. He was in
the act of opening the gate, when his attention was drawn by the
sound of a heavy tramping, like a horse moving over frozen ground.
As the object came nearer and evolved itself out of the darkness, he
beheld the gigantic figure, of his brother Saul. Thrown across, his
broad shoulders was hanging downward some large burden, as a hunter
carries a deer that he has slain. As he passed close by the gate
at a heavy round trot, Fleming saw that it was a man suspended by
the heels across his back, head downwards. He did not need the
aid of a lantern to see who it was. He knew that it could be Cleverling
and none other. Fleming did not speak or betray his presence.
He fell a stern delight in seeing the libertine in the hands of his
brother; nor could he help smiling at the ludicrousness of his situation.
Cleverling, however, beheld him, and raising up his face as well
as he could, he cried,

“For the love of mercy, whoever you are, come to my aid and rescue
me from this savage monster.”

As he spoke, Saul gave him a blow with the flat of his hand upon
the cheek and bade him be silent. The next moment they were lost
in the obscurity of the distance, though the groans of the wretched
man and the heavy tramp of Saul's feet, as he took his way in the
direction of the old mill, were long heard.

“There is just retribution. I pity the man, yet I would not rescue
him. He deserves this. I trust that the noble-minded Landreth will
meet with no harm from him. But Heaven will give victory on the
side of virtue.”

He now entered the garden and traversed it to a terrace which

led round to the west side of the house, and gave access to a long
window that opened into the drawing-room. This window he had
passed through before under the guidance of Lucy. He threw it up
and entered the room. It was perfectly dark. He crossed it to a
door, through which gleamed a light. He went to it and softly opening
it, beheld Lucy writing at a table with an anxious countenance. He
entered, and catching the sound of his footstep she raised her eyes
and recognizing him with an exclamation of joy, rose and caught his
hand.

“I am so glad you have come, Fleming,” she said in a pleased
but low tone of voice; “I was just writing a note to you.”

“I will read it now,” he answered, smiling as he took it up from the
table.

“No, I will tell you what I would have written.”

“But I will hear also, thus I shall have a two-fold pleasure—the
sweet sound of your voice and the silent music of your exquisite
hand-writing.”

“This is no time for flattery, dear Fleming.”

“I cannot flatter those I love. But what is it you would of me?”

“I tremble for my father. He has just received an anonymous
letter, threatening, if he brings the stamped paper into his house, that
not one stone shall be left upon another.”

“Did he intend to do so?”

“Yes, for safe keeping, by the advice of the three king's officers,
and also of Colonel Mortley.”

“But he has since changed his determination, for I but now learned
it was to be landed at the new store-house just built by Mr. Oliver,
in King street.”

“Then this threat has induced my father to alter his mind. I hope
it is so. These are indeed fearful times, Fleming. I wrote to you
to endeavor to turn aside the popular tide which sets so fiercely towards
my misguided parent. I know your influence with your fellow-townsmen.
They will listen to you when they will hear no one
else. Go abroad and keep with them and among them. Let them
commit no rash acts. I tremble for my father's life.”

“His life will not be touched, though his house may be attacked.”

“Is this probable, Fleming?” she asked, pale but firm.

“Yes. The popular excitement is at a great height. There is
only one thing that will allay it. It remains with your father.”

“What is it that he should do?” she asked with deep earnestness
in look and tone.

“I am sent hither by full two thousand men, now assembled about
the head of King street awaiting me. They have possessed themselves
of the two cannon placed there, and compelled the soldiers to
retire precipitately to their barracks where they have shut themselves
in, apprehending an attack upon it.”

“Oh, when will these troubles end. I sympathize with the brave
colon sts in their wrongs, yet I cannot but strongly condemn the course
they are pursuing to obtain redress.”

“It is to be censured by every true patriot—by every discreet colonist,”
answered Fleming. “But the people now have the head and
nothing will stop them in their course but a change of policy on the part
of the licutenant governor. As I came hither I met sevently resolute
men, headed by one of the boldest spirits in the cause, who with
blackened faces and armed with clubs, were marching towards the
docks with the avowed purpose of seizing upon the stamped paper
as soon as it lands.”

“This is fearful news. It will lead to consequences dreadful to
contemplate.”

“We must do what we can to turn aside the evil. I am sent hither
by a body of my townsmen to demand audience of the governor;
and ask him if he will give his promise that on the first of November
the operation of the stamp-law shall be suspended until petitions
and remonstrances can be sent to the crown.”

“This is a moderate request, Fleming,” and shows a better disposition
on the part of the people than I hoped for. This is the only
proper course for them to take. My father cannot refuse this request,
as he knows that upon it hangs the safety and peace of the commonwealth.”

“I have come to ask him. Will you see if he will receive me?”

The governor was standing by a window looking forth upon the harbor.
His eyes were particularly directed to two lights which shone
on the decks of the “tax-ship,” as the vessel which brought over the
stamps was called by the colonists. He was alone; the officers having
left him, to superintend the debarkation of the stamped paper. He
was suddenly roused from his meditations, which were by no means
conciliatory towards the colonists, towards whom, if possible, he entertained
hourly more vindictive feelings; for he had made the differences
between them and the crown a personal and private feud, to
which he brought all the animosity of his nature.

“Father,” said Lucy, taking him by the hand, “Mr. Fleming Field
is in the house and desires to see you.”

“I can hold no speech with him. I have to-day made up my mind.
I am satisfied that the crown will sustain me if I should set fire to this
insurgent town, and return to England in yonder ship.”

“Mr. Field is sent sir, by a body of two thousand of his fellow-townsmen,
who await his return at the head of King street. It is too
serious a mission, sir, for you to treat it lightly. Your dwelling may
your life, my dear father, is in danger.”

“What do they want of me?' he asked moodily.

“Mr. Field will inform you, father,” she answered, going to the
door, and ushering Fleming in.

“Well, young man! So you are sent to speak with me by a mob
of insurgents.”

“I am sent to your excellency by a body of freemen and loyal
king's subjects,' answered Fleming respectfully and firmly.

“I have heard of you, sir! Half the rebellious spirit in the town
is owing to you, sir! You are a leader among them. I don't know
but, now that you are here, that I ought to let you depart. It is my
duty to arrest you, and send you prisoner to England, charged with
treason.”

“Your excellency, I have done much to prevent open acts of violence
in the town. My influence is small, but what I have, I have
exercised on the side of order. It is with the hope of preserving
peace, that I have consented to wait upon you, at the request of my
fellow-townsmen.”

“What do they demand?”

“They are willing to leave the issue to respectful remonstrance
and petition to the crown for a repeal of the law. They, therefore,
desire time to send to England, and to hear the answer of the king
and parliament to their prayers. They authorise me to say to your
excellency, that if you will promise that the law shall not go into operation
on the first of November, but be suspended until we can hear
from England, that they will retire peaceably to their homes, and return
each man to his occupation and craft.”

“This is modest, by the king's head. Very modest indeed! So
I am to suspend a law of the empire on my own responsibility.”

“But consider, your excellency, the circumstances! These will
be taken into consideration at home, in extenuation of your conduct.”

The governor seemed to reflect. His daughter watched his countenance
with the most painful solicitude. From her heart went up a
prayer that God might give her father wisdom.

“And if I do not make this promise?” asked the governor, fixing
his eyes upon Fleming's face.

“I cannot answer either for the security of your house or your
person.”

“This is come to a pass. I must throw myself, I dare say, into the
castle, and upon the protection of the troops. I will do this at once;
so take back my answer to these rebels. Tell them the law shall go
into force on the first day of November, as decreed. I shall take no
responsibility. Come, my daughter, at once begin to get ready, for
I shall go down to the castle in the morning.”

“You have not five minutes, your excellency. A half an hour was
allotted me to deliver my errand and receive your reply, and convey
it back to the waiting multitude. I have no power to prevent any
course they may see fit to pursue, on learning your refusal to this just
and expedient request.”

“I shall not consent to it.” They dare not attack me. They know
they would be hung, every dog of them.”

“Their minds are in that state, sir, that they care little for results to
themselves. They count their lives as nothing, compared with the
liberty which they inherit from their pilgrim-fathers.”

“Father, I entreat of your listen to the people!” cried his daughter
with tears in her eyes.

“I will not. They dare not touch my person or my house. There
are five hundred soldiers at the castle. I will send express for them.”

“It will be too late. Already the time has expired in which I
should return,” he said, as the tongue of the old South loudly tolled
the hour of seven.

“Do you think, young man, that they will have the audacity to try
to injure my mansion?” asked the governor, with some anxiety.

“I will not answer for any acts of violence they may commit. Do
you hear that deep shout, your excellency. Not seeing me return,
they are moving hither to meet me, and to know what you say.”

“Father, be wise; dear father, do not sacrifice yourself. Be entreated,
and give them the promise!” cried Lucy, with eloquent
pathos. “Hark! those shouts are like the dashing of the angry surges

upon the shore. They grow nearer and louder, and each moment
ring more fiercely in my ears.”

“Your excellency, if you will be guided by reason and self-preservation,
you will not withhold the promise they solicit. Already the
street is filling with them before the house!” he cried, as he looked
from the window upon the dark masses of men moving towards the
gate, their stern faces made visible by the glare of a hundred pine
torches. “Look at this scene, your excellency, and as a friend I
would urge upon you to give the pledge.”

“Father, for my sake, if you love me, yield!” cried Lucy, pale
with terror as she looked forth.

The governor walked to the window and gazed out upon the agitated
multitude, with their torches, banners, and clubs swayed and brandished
above the heaving surface. The banners were displayed so
as to be distinctly read from the windows. Upon them were,

“No Stamps.”

“No Taxation Without Representation.”

“Vox Populi—Vox Dei.”

“No Tyrants, nor Tyrants' Tools.”

“Down with Hutchinson.”

“You see, sir, the state of the public mind,” said Fleming, observing
that the governor looked alarmed.

“A single word from you, dear father, and all this storm, which
seems ready to pour its fury upon our heads, will be allayed.”

“The governor was silent. He struggled between pride and
hatred of the colonists, and personal fear. Duty to the crown was little
in his thoughts as a motive to obstinacy. The mob now began to
cry out loudly for Fleming. Thomas Crafts, and seven or eight of the
leaders entered the gate, from which the sentinel had fled on their first
approach.

“There is no time to be lost, your excellency!” said Fleming.

“I will not yield the promise,” answered this singular man, in a
determined tone, that under a higher motive, would have commanded
admiration. But his intense and bitter hatred of the colonists, transcended
for the moment, his fear of personal injury; and under its
influence he answered as he did.

Fleming saw that there was not an instant for delay, as Crafts, with
the current of the mob setting after him, was near the door; and seeing
Fleming, he called to him to come out.

“Lucy, there is no further safety here!” cried Fleming. “Fly
through the garden, and seek shelter at my mother's. No! do not
venture into the streets alone. Stay by the gate for me. I will follow
you in a few moments. Governor, if you would save your life,
follow your daughter. I assure you, that I shall no sooner report your
refusal, than your house will be assaulted with a fury that will be
irresistible.”

“Master Fleming, do you come out, or shall we come in and fetch
you?” cried Thomas Crafts.

Fleming lingered an instant, till he saw Lucy safely beyond the
fated dwelling, and then returned to open the door. The governor
was in the hall, standing irresolute.

“Mr. Field, do you believe that they will dare to enter my house?
I can barricade the doors and windows.”

“You hear them already beating loudly upon the door! You have
yet time to turn aside this tornado. Bars and bolts will be like straws
before them.”

Ere the governor could reply, the door was dashed in as if with a
catapult. Hutchinson fled to one of the back rooms, with a cry of
fear. Crafts and Fleming met in the hall, face to face.

“We have waited, Master Fleming, past the hour. What says the
petty tyrant?”

“He refuses to give the promise, I am sorry to say.”

“The tyrant refuses!” cried Crafts, shouting to the people who
were crowding up the steps.

“He refuses! He wont promise! Down with him!” was echoed
from mouth to mouth, till the very skies rung with the vast uproar.

“Let us down with the house!” cried Crafts, in a voice that rose
above the rest. “Torches, men! Axes and torches! Down with
the tyrant's palace! We will smoke the fox out of his hole! Light
up, men! Torches to the four corners!”

The work of destruction and devastation now commenced. The
mob divided themselves into bands. Some set fire to the corners of
the house, others rushed into the rooms, both up stairs and below, with
axes and bludgeons, destroying the furniture, and casting it forth to
heap upon a bonfire. Costly pier glasses were shivered at a blow,
and chandeliers torn from the chains which suspended them, and
dashed out of the windows. The valuable library was demolished,
and papers of immense value destroyed.

“Here is a drawer full of gold and silver!” cried a man aloud, as
he split open a secretary with a broad-axe. “We shall make money,
my friends!” and he began to fill his pockets, while others came up
to do the same.

“Throw that gold into the bon-fire!” suddenly cried Crafts, pointing
to a large fire burning in the court; not a dollar of it shall go into
any man's pocket. We have not come here to rob the tyrant! Not
a farthing's worth of value shall be taken away by any man! The
flames shall consume all!” At length the mansion, by far the most
magnificent and best furnished house in the colony, was destroyed.
The plate, the pictures, the furniture, the apparel of the governor,
and nine hundred pounds in specie were destroyed. The governor's
coach, which had been preserved from the conflagration of the stables,
was then dragged into the street, and an effigy of the governor, dressed
in the laced clothes and cocked hat which had been found in the
house, was placed in it, and thus marched in triumph through the
city. Behind and before the coach, were fastened placards, reading,

“No Stamps.”

In the procession one person carried a large square banner, on
which was represented a man with “Liberty” inscribed upon his hat,
with his foot in the act of stamping upon the neck of a man, who was
labelled “Doctor Stamp Act. Beneath the devise, were the words
in large letters,

“We have no Stamps but the feet of Freemen.”

The procession proceeded to the liberty tree, and here hanged the
effigy of the governor, placing in one of his hands a paper, purporting
to be the dying confession of the stamp act; and in the other hand a
picture of a horned devil, labelled, “Hutchinson's Prime Minister.”

While these scenes were being enacted in one quarter of the town,
events of equal interest were going forward in another. The party
led by William Lee having reached the Long Wharf, placed themselves
in concealment in an old store-house, near the head of it, and
waited for the passing of the bales of stamped paper. At length, after
an hours time, a spy came from the end of the wharf, reporting that
the bales, sixteen in number, were landed, and were being packed in a
cart, which the governor had sent for the purpose of conveying them to
Mr. Oliver's store-house. William Lee, upon the receipt of this intelligence,
selected ten of the most resolute of his party, and instructed

them how to act. The cart, at length, came rumbling along, and
passed the spot were they were in ambush. It was drawn by two
horses, and about a dozen marines walked on either side of it in file.

“Now, my friends, to the capture. Each of you single out his
man, take his musket, and leave him to be bound by those who follow.”

Lee then bounded forward. His men reached the cart at the same
moment with himself. The guard was in a moment surprised, disarmed,
and given into the charge of the remainder of the party. Not
a gun was fired; scarcely a word spoken, till the cart with its contents
were in the possession of its resolute captors.

“Now, my friends, we have got the lion,” said William Lee. “We
will look at his teeth.”

At these words, a bale was cut open with a cutlass, and the
stamped paper exhibited to their various inspection.

“Now what is to be done with this?”

“Fire, William, tells no tales,” answered a man of the party.

“True, and they will burn as well as any paper. But we will first
destroy Oliver's store; for by the light and the report of this lad, our
friends are busy burning. Hutchinson's mansion. This store was
erected as a stamp office, and it must come down.”

In less than half an hour, the new brick edifice was levelled with
the ground. The cart, containing the bales of stamped paper, was
then escorted up King street, with sheets of the paper displayed on
poles above it, and rendered visible by the light of torches. The rumor
of what Lee and his party had done, soon spread throughout the
town, and reached the mob assembled around the liberty tree, which,
with fresh shouts of triumph, mounted their effigies upon old horses,
and moved in procession to meet Lee's advancing party.