 | CHAPTER II. Tales of the good woman |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
The group which now entered on the scene,
was composed of Smith, then acting, as he always
did in times of peril or suffering, as president of
the little colony of James Town; Master Arthur
Vere, Master George Harrington, Master Hardin,
and Master Hyacinth Lavender; each of whom I
shall specially introduce to the reader.
Smith, of whose name and actions, it is a disgrace
for any American to be ignorant, was a person
of fine, manly figure and proportions, erect in
his port, and of a commanding look. His eyes
were of a greyish hue, and of a most piercing lustre;
his hair cut short, and curling thickly about
the ears; his beard and mustaches very full, and
suffered to grow long, as was still the fashion of
the times. Though at this period he had scarcely
reached the age of thirty, he had already encountered
a series of romantic adventures, in almost
every quarter of the globe, and his face, eminently
manly and prepossessing as it was, wore the impression
the wrinkles of thought and anxiety; and between
his eyes were two deep, upright lines, indicative
of a mind troubled with frequent perplexities.
His complexion was darkened by exposure to vicissitudes
and hardships; but upon the whole, he
still bore about him a charm of person and manner,
that quelled the minds of one sex, and wakened
the affections of the other. Of his daring
courage, unconquerable perseverance, and adventurous
spirit; of his extraordinary qualities and
acquirements, no one can judge, who has not followed
him through the various events of a life of
danger, trial and vicissitude. Suffice it to say,
that in an age, than which there never was one
more fruitful in extraordinary men, he stands eminently
conspicuous.
Of the other members of the group, Vere and
Harrington were younger brothers of younger
branches of noble houses. Gentlemen of the inns
of court, which at that time contained more young
fellows of wit and pleasure, than all London beside.
They were accustomed to give masques; to
enact plays before the sovereign; and some of the
best writers, as well as best actors of the day,
were originally of the inns of court. They were
indeed a set of lusty gallants, who treated the
city husbands with great contempt, and their
wives with great courtesy.
Master Hardin was a preacher of the gospel;
to whom impossibilities are as nothing; whose
faith is as a rock; whose ardour for the interests
and growth of religion never tires under hardships
or difficulties, and who are ready at any time, to
carry the gospel into the very jaws of death. He
had accompanied one of the earliest companies of
adventurers to Virginia, and proved himself on all
occasions, ready to suffer in the cause of heaven,
or to make any sacrifices for the welfare of his
fellow creatures.
Master Lavender was a complete specimen of
the fashionable dandy of that age, save that he
was now somewhat rusticated—a spruce, neat,
apish, nimble, fantastic, conceited gallant, with
hollow eyes, sharp visage, dark complexion and
meagre face. He was devoted to toys; worshipped
satin doublets, and adored a white hand in a
perfumed glove. He could never resist fine
clothes and jewelry; and all his estate, which indeed
was only that of a younger brother, was
spent in velvet, satin, trinkets, and new fashions.
He ruined his tailor, mercer, and jeweller; but
then he comforted the first by swearing he had the
patience of a burnt heretic; the second, that his
faith was sufficient to save all Fleet-street, and
the Strand; and the third, that his repentance
would pay all his scores at church, if no where
else. He was withal not destitute of wit, having
kept company with the templars, and had more
without courage could associate with gentlemen.
Master Lavender had come to the new world,
some two years before the present period, with a
competent array of finery and trinkets. The trinkets
he had from time to time pawned to a little tailor,
for repairing his costume; and the finery was
now in the last stage of a rapid dissolution. With
the exception of a pair of perfumed gloves, he exhibited
the perfect wreck of a beau, insomuch
that his old enemy, Mr. Justice Knapp, with whom
he had many a sharp contest of wit, was wont to
say, that his velvet jacket had made three voyages
round the world; that his cloak had belonged to
Marco Polo, when he visited the emperor of China
and the Great Khan; and that had his dimity
breeches been mortal, they would have perished
long before the flood.
Such was the company that now intruded somewhat
tumultuously on the sorrows of Percie. As
they advanced they seemed in a state of hot contention,
and from time to time placed their hands
on the swords, which in those dangerous times, it
was customary for the adventurers to wear on all
occasions. To explain this apparent hostility it
is necessary that we go a little way backwards.
The colony which is the scene of our story,
was settled in the first instance, by a company of
daring spirits, many of them connected with families
of distinction at home. High tempered, and
the best possible materials for defence and
warfare; but when it came to labouring, which
the exigencies of the colony at almost all times,
made indispensable to its very existence, they were
apt to be exceedingly refractory and indignant.
Placing a precarious dependence in the friendship
of the savages, and the supplies from England,
they were too prone to idleness, and unthrift, and
it required all the ascendency of such a spirit as
that of Smith, to maintain any tolerable degree
of subordination. Among the devices invented
by him for cooling the courage of these high
blooded gallants, was one which in general, was
found exceedingly effectual. This was to tie
the delinquent's right arm to the branch of a tree,
and pour cold water down the sleeve until the culprit
signified his submission.
At the period in which our story commences,
the colony was in a state almost bordering on absolute
famine. Every thing being in common,
and the products of the labour and enterprise of
all being deposited in a large store, constituted a
common stock, under the special guardianship of
the president and his council, who sometimes abused
their trust, and wasted the precious deposit.
Such an event had not long since taken place, and
the colony indignant at this mal-administration,
deposed their president, and chose Smith in his
place. As usual, he exposed himself to all sorts
remedy the desperate state of affairs, and set the
example of labour, economy, and endurance.
But all did not avail. The savages, offended by
the unjust exactions of the late president, retired
to a distance, refusing to hold communion with
the strangers, or hid their corn under ground, and
preserved a sullen silence. To complete their
misfortunes, the rats got into their store house,
and consumed a small quantity of grain, which
was all that was left of what Smith had collected
in a voyage up the Potomac.
From this time they had no bread, but a miserable
substitute made of the flesh of dried sturgeons,
which fish, together with the little game they could
procure in the woods, constituted almost the whole
of their food. Still it would seem that they preserved
their good spirits, and the same daring hardihood
that precipitated them on the new world, sustained
them through all their dangers and sufferings.
They sometimes grumbled, sometimes rebelled
against the authority of Smith, and sometimes
resolved to go home. But in general, it
would seem, that the very hardships they endured,
the privations they laboured under, had produced
what may be called the philosophy of necessity,
which is neither more nor less than a sort of desperate
carelessness, which makes a jest of the present,
and defies the morrow. They passed like the
swift lightning from one extreme to the other, and
was lightened by merry jests, or playful pastimes.
Desperation sometimes produces a strange hilarity;
and necessity is not only the mother of invention,
but the source of great actions, which are
almost always performed by poor adventurers, the
fruits of whose genius and hardihood, are generally
reaped by the rich drones of this vast hive.
Such was the crisis of affairs in the little cradle
of the new world, which in truth was never a sleeping
place for the children or their parents, when
the refusal of the refractory cavaliers to work, produced
the scene which followed, and which we
shall endeavour to exhibit to the reader.
“For shame, for shame!” cried Smith, as they
approached to where Percie was standing, “these
unmanly complaints, these eternal bickerings,
will ruin the noblest project of the age. Within
is famine and disaffection; without, the bloody,
bold, and cunning savages, watching for the miserable
leavings of famine. Shame, shame I say,
gentlemen; the word is work or starve.”
“Not I, by Jupiter,” cried Master Vere.
“Nor I, by Mars,” quoth Master Harrington.
“Nor I, by these lily hands,” whispered Master
Hyacinth Lavender.
“We shall see, gentlemen,” cried Smith, “the
time is come when that authority which necessity
creates and justifies, shall be exerted, let what will
follow. Your extravagance has consumed our
and now when famine and danger stare us in the
face, you refuse to lend a helping hand, because,
forsooth! the distant kinsmen of nobility! You
know me sirs, and on the faith of man, this day shall
see you labouring with the meanest. By heaven I
will force you to work, and punish you if you
rail.”
“Few words to that bargain, most valiant Captain,”
quoth Master Vere, “you say the rats have
eaten up the corn. These rats are yourself and
your minions. You say the savages are watching
to destroy us: your prudence has provided against
this, by securing a refuge for yourself at least,
with your copper-coloured Siren of the woods:
your gentle Indian maid, your—”
“Ungenerous, and illiberal slander,” cried
Smith, warmly, “when have I ever shrunk from
any hardships or sufferings, that you—or you—or
you—the best and bravest of you all have borne?
when did I refuse to eat what you have eaten, or
fast when others fasted? I have shared labours,
dangers, watchings, heat, cold and famine, with the
meanest of my people. Is it,—is it not so?”
“'Tis true, and I'll avouch it,” exclaimed Percie.
“Doubtless,” quoth Master Harrington, “you
led us wantonly into dangers, and took all the
credit of escape to yourself; and you consumed
our corn, to save us from starving by inches.”
“'Tis true, as this back and stomach of mine
can witness,” lisped Master Lavender.
“Unworthy imputation!” rejoined Captain
Smith, “but enough of this. Now mark me, gentlemen,
for men, it seems ye are not. Since
hunger itself has no power to force you to exertion,
I protest by Him that made me, you shall not
only labour for your own support, but for that of
those poor souls who are sick, and perishing with
want. They shall not starve while we have hands
to help them.”
“What! become the slaves of base mechanics?”
exclaimed Vere and Harrington.
“Aye sirs: and he that gathers not a supply, or
performs a task equal to myself, shall as sure as he
lives, be sent over the river, to taste the sweets of
idleness, among the savages. Bring hither the implements,”
added Smith, calling to some labourers
at a short distance, who came with axes, shovels,
and other instruments of labour.
“Lookee ye, Captain Smith,” said Vere, “only
point me out a mode in which my sword may be
employed in any useful labour, and I am your
man; but an axe, I disdain; a spade I abhor. If
you have any fighting to do, send for me; till then,
adieu most noble Captain.”
He was proceeding to quit the spot, when Smith
placed himself before him, and offered the choice
of an axe or a shovel.
“By the bright Jupiter, my natal star,” exclaimed
ploughshare, I'll try conclusions with your toasting
iron. What! shall the seed of nobles become
the bondsmen of the scum of England? Sweat for
them!”
“Sweat! O vulgar sprig of nobility!” lisped
Master Lavender.
“Softly, softly, high-born sir,” rejoined Smith, in
a sarcastic tone: “what, I pray you, is your noble
blood to me, or those poor souls whose substance
you have devoured? Will your long pedigrees
confound these Indian warriors, or quell the anger
of savage murderers? Prithee high-born
sirs, call up your noble lineage, and bid them
speak to these wild warriors to come and bring us
corn, for christian charity to their dry bones. Beseech
them to bring their mantles of state, to
shield us from coming winters' cold; their coronets
of pearl, to barter here for food; their proud
escutcheons, to ward off the Indian arrows. They'll
come I warrant you. Work, work, I say. The
basket-maker is the king in this new world. The
implements—take them gentlemen, the axe or the
spade, the gallows or the wilds; come, here are
our weapons.”
“And here is mine.”
“And mine,” cried Harrington and Vere, drawing,
“the only one a gentleman ever uses.”
“And mine,” quoth Master Lavender, “if it
will only come forth; for by St. George and his
its horns in broad day, since last I drew it on a
sheriff's officer in merry London. Come forth my
trusty and rusty toaster,” continued he, tugging
at his sword. “No! well to him that is without
arms, neutrality is policy. Now will I stand on
one side and count the slain, as a boy notches the
game on a stick. Sa—sa—that's it gallants!”
“Well, since it is coming to blows, I must beat
up for recruits,” exclaimed Smith, his bright grey
eyes beginning to strike fire. “Who stands for
the new world?”
“I for one,” quoth Robert Percie, while the
labourers all ranged themselves by the side of
Smith.
“By St. Ragamuffin, the patron of rent doublets,”
surmised Master Lavender, “but our president
hath a noble competency of backers; two
bundles of rags, a skeleton, and a greasy leathern
jacket! I should like to have a tournament with
that same greasy knight. But,” tugging at his
sword, “it will not be, the rusty fates forbid it.”
“Stand aside, good varlets,” said Captain Smith,
“I'll not take odds in a good cause. Percie and
I can match these braggarts. Now sirs, are ye
desperate, wil't work or fight.”
“Not a stroke but of the sword,” replied Vere,
“Come on, rascal Rabble and all.”
The two parties were now about to engage in
between them, and they paused for a moment.
“Stay,” cried he, “in the name of the living
God!” addressing himself to Vere and his party,
“Unthinking swaggerers, what brought you here?
Did you think to play the drones in this new hive
—to revel as in the filth of London stews at home
—to swagger up and down the streets, putting
ladies to the blush by peering under their bonnets
—to bouse it at taverns, brothels, and such like
hells, and pay no other reckoning but daily lengthening
scores, chalked up as chronicles of time
murdered, health wasted, wealth consumed, and
honour ruined?”
“In good faith,” quoth Lavender, “this cropear
must have been a sad reveller in his time—a
most swaggering swipester to know of all this
naughtiness. If I thought he meant any reflection
on me, I'd fillip him.”
“Merciful heaven!” resumed old Hardin,
“what good will fighting do? will you make
these fields fruitful with corn, by sprinkling them
with blood, and blast this new world as Cain did
the old, with a brother's murder? And suppose
you get the better, what then, sir.”
“A homeward voyage, and freedom from famine,”
answered Vere.
“Have you ships for the voyage?” rejoined
Hardin, “provisions, mariners? or will you put to
sea on a plank, live upon air, sail by the witches
of wizzard spells which the friar of Linne consulted,
and by that means found the new world,
but lost his soul?”
“Now who'd have thought there had been a
peascod of discretion in this crop-ear'd puritan?”
quoth Lavender to Master Vere. “I begin to wax
remorseful, and would most assuredly back the
president, were it not for this vulgar chopping
and digging. Perish all worlds, old and new, ere
such prodigious degradation.”
“Pish!” replied Vere; listen to the oracle of
the nose.
“You are silent,” resumed Hardin. “Is it conviction
or obstinacy? I do beseech you comrades,
by the faith you profess; by the hopes you
cherish; by the charity we owe to all mankind,
not to blight this noble project in the bud.
Think—”
“'Slife, Master Hardin,” interrupted Harrington,
“keep your breath old man; you've little
to spare, if one may judge by your peevish little
voice.”
“I am glad of it,” rejoined the other. “I rejoice
that I am old and must soon go to my Father.
I would not wish to live to see these filthy broils
renewed day by day. But once more, before it is
too late, let me beseech you to reflect on what a
glorious harvest of future hopes will be blighted
by these dissensions. Think, my noble comrades,
wilderness will be peopled by your free and happy
offspring—”
“That's altogether likely,” quoth Master Lavender,—“there
are but two women in the colony,
and they poor souls are in the jaws of famine.
Madam Arabella Fenton is the worst half of a
shadow; and little Anne Burras looks like a ghost
in a consumption.”
“Think,” resumed Hardin, “if you only persevere
until the ship arrive, what a glorious world
this will become hereafter. I am no prophet, but
I see beyond the mists that bound my few remaining
days, a noble prospect. A little while, and this
wild region of the west, will become the refuge
and abode of millions of happy beings, the asylum
of virtuous poverty, the sanctuary of men's
consciences, the hope of the oppressed, the fear of
the oppressor. Then the howlings of rude savages
shall give place to songs of joy, and hymns of
sweet thanksgivings. Then this man (pointing
to Smith) will be revered in his immortal memory,
as one of the founders of a new and noble empire;
you as his faithful friends, the sharers of his toils
and future honours. What say you friends,” added
he, earnestly; seeing Vere and Harrington
consulting with each other.
“Stand aside, good prophet,” cried Vere, at
length, “or take the chances.”
“Then may the good cause prosper, and might
man, as slowly he passed on one side to wait the
issue.
The parties then advanced towards each other,
and a most keen and skillful encounter began.
All four were excellent at the sword, and for a
time both skill and fortune seemed equal. Vere,
who stood opposed to Smith, was one of the most
lusty gallants of the day, and had in his youth
taken lessons of a prize-fighter of note in London.
He held his ground manfully before the president;
but there was not a man of that day, who could
encounter him without rueing it. Active and vigorous,
with a quick eye, a steady hand, sure foot,
and dauntless heart, neither Christian, Turk, nor
savage ever got the better of him in fair fight. He
dealt nobly with Vere, whom he admired for his
gallant spirit; parried his blows, and restrained
his own; worried and wearied him out, and at
length with a triumphant flourish of his weapon,
caused that of Vere to fly into the air, and caught
it with his left hand. This was an age of punning
and rhyming, as well as gallantry; and Vere, who
was scratched in two or three places, gaily exclaimed,
when he found himself disarmed—
And those who can't do better, must say yea.”
“I am at your mercy, sir. Give me the axe,
I'll call it a battle-axe, and then it will be gentlemanly
recreation. Give me the axe.”
“Aye,” cried Smith, “and the sword too. I
am not afraid to trust you again, Arthur Vere.”
“On my honour, you shall never again have
occasion to distrust me. I am yours to command.
You have won me in fair fight, and so I may prosper
here and elsewhere, if I do not approve myself
your true servant.”
Nearly at the moment in which Smith jerked
the sword out of Vere's hand, Percie had closed
with his antagonist, and tript up his heels. He
fell, having previously received a wound in the
shoulder, and the prayer of the preacher Hardin
prevailed, for the good cause triumphed.
“Now will I play the Goddess of Victory, and
go over to the strongest side,” quoth Master Lavender,
as he joined Smith's party with great
seeming alacrity.
| CHAPTER II. Tales of the good woman | |