University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

The fatigues of a long and tedious journey
could not conquer the wakeful agony of poor
Christina, who paced her room backwards and
forwards, till the crowing of the cock announced
the approach of the morning, which was to
decide upon her happiness or misery. The
rising sun found her pale and worn with anxiety
and suffering; yet there was a firmness, a composure
in her voice and manner, which indicated
a mind wound up to meet the events of the day,
let them take what turn they might.

Soon as the hour at which the Governor usually
finished his breakfast arrived, the kind-hearted
Spangler went forth to solicit an immediate interview
for the Heer and his daughter. His
excellency happened to be in high good humour

that morning, having just heard some news from
England, which gave him particular satisfaction,
but which, having no especial reference to our
history, we shall pass over just now.

“What tell ye me, Alderman! the old
Governor of Elsingburgh come hither with his
daughter, to solicit the pardon of him they call
the Long Finne? Body o'me! is she young
and handsome—hey?”

“She is pale and sad,” replied Spangler;
“but the damsel has fair blue eyes, is of exceeding
comely features, and her shape is without
fault.”

“What! no Dutch dowdy, shaped like a
tub—hey? Well, I shall put on my regimentals,
and you shall go and bring the old Heer and his
daughter hither.”

The Alderman departed on his errand, and
the Governor proceeded to dress for his audience
of the fair young Swede, whose limbs trembled
so that she could scarcely support herself, as
they came into the presence of him who derived
a present consequence beyond all other human
agents, from having in his dispensation the fate
of Koningsmarke. The old cavalier was struck
with the beauty of our heroine, and with mingled
gallantry and compassion, conducted her to a

chair. After a moment's embarrassment, Christina
said to the Heer:—

“Father, the hour draws nigh, each moment
is precious.”

The Heer, then, in a firm, manly, and feeling
manner, required the pardon and enfranchisement
of the young Swede called Koningsmarke,
who in all that he had done, had acted under his
orders, as lawful and unquestionable representative
of the king of Sweden, then possessed of,
and exercising jurisdiction over the territory of
Elsingburgh.

“But he invited the savages to take arms,
and thereby endangered the lives of many of
the subjects of my master. This was against
the laws of God and man, and he deserves the
severest punishment.”

“The laws of God,” replied the Heer, “authorize
the means of self-defence at least; and
the practice of thy nation, as well as of all the first
adventurers in this new world, hath been to enlist
the savages in their wars with each other.
He did not invite the red-men to invade thy
town, or murder thy people, but to assist in defending
our lives and property. For this he
had my commission, and if any one is to blame
in this business, here I render myself thy prisoner,

to take the consequences of an act which
was not his, but mine.”

“But,” said Lovelace, “it is in proof, from
the testimony of thy own people, that he continued
his practices among the savages, after the
surrender of Elsingburgh, and that he was, consequently,
guilty of conspiracy and treason
against the king's majesty of England.”

“That is impossible,” replied the Heer, “because
he was with me during the whole period
of the negotiation, and also that which followed
the surrender of my power, until the evening
preceding the departure of the fleet, when, as I
understand, he was kidnapped and forcibly carried
away by the agents of Sir Robert Carre.
Who among my people gave thee such false and
wicked information?”

Governor Lovelace opened a drawer, and
produced a letter from Othman Pfegel, conveying
these charges against the Long Finne, and
referring to Dominie Kanttwell for a full corrobation.

“The galgen schivenkel,” exclaimed the Heer;
“the Long Finne shall cut off his ears, and a
slice of the Dominie's tongue, if he ever lives to
get back to Elsingburgh; and if he does not,
I will live a little while longer, if it be only to

do that good turn to a youth whom I loved as
my own son.”

“But what proof hast thou of this?” rejoined
Lovelace.

“The word, or, if thou so pleasest, the oath,
of a man of honour,” quoth the Heer.

“And mine also,” faltered the weeping Christina.
“The young man was never absent from
me, all this while, long enough to hold any communication
with the savages.

“Indeed!” quoth Lovelace—“is the young
man nearly related to thee?”

“No; not a drop of blood that runs in his
veins is of kindred with mine. I owe him nothing
on that score, but I am indebted to him
for life, and more than life. Why,” continued
Christina to herself, after a struggle and a pause,
“why should I shrink, from what my heart dictates,
and gratitude makes it a crime to omit?
The moments are numbered—the clock strikes
eleven—one hour, and but one hour more, to
wrestle with fate.”

Rising from her seat, Christina tottered towards
Governor Lovelace, and sunk at his feet.

“Oh, sir! exclaimed the maiden, with clasped
hands, “if thou canst not yield to justice,
which demands the release of the innocent, yield

thou to the prayers of mercy, which entreats his
pardon at thy hands. At other times I might
veil my maiden modesty, and shrink from the
avowal, but now, I proclaim to thee that this
youth is my affianced husband, that both gratitude
and love have bound me to him for ever,
and that if he is disgraced by public stripes, and
sold to captivity among the slaves of the Indies,
not he alone, but I, shall feel the blows and
the chains. My father, too, will become ere long
a childless old man, bearing on his shoulders a
burthen of misery, greater than even his weight
of years. Think of all this, and feel as I and
my father would feel for thee, wert thou and thy
daughter thus pleading before us for life and
death. Thou hast a daughter, perhaps?”

The gallant, hearty old cavalier wiped his
eyes, and, hastily approaching the fire-place,
rung the bell. A servant entered immediately.

“My carriage, instantly; do you hear? instantly.”
He then sat down and employed himself
in writing, till the servant announced the carriage
was ready, when he arose, and, approaching
Christina, gave her the billet he had just
finished.

“Thou shalt bear the first tidings thyself, my

daughter,” said Lovelace, “for so I feel for thee.
Enter the carriage with thy father, drive to the
prison, deliver this letter to the keeper—and
may those who would shrink from such exertions
as thine never taste the delight which is now
preparing for thee. Go, and bring the young
man with thee hither. No thanks—there is not
a moment to be lost.”

He then handed Christina to the carriage,
placed her in it with her father, and bade the
coachman drive to the prison with all possible
speed. The clock struck twelve a few minutes
after they left the Governor's mansion, and
Christina, as she counted the last stroke, exclaimed,
in an agony of feeling—

“We shall come too late. Oh! I know him
him so well! I know that if he is once made a
public spectacle—if the lash but once outrages
the sacred dignity of manhood—it will be as if
he were lost to us for ever; he will die, or, at
least, he will never see us more.”

A few minutes brought them to the fort, which
served as the prison for state criminals, where
they perceived a bustle and confusion in the hall
as they approached. As they came nearer,
they could see a tall figure struggling with one
or two soldiers, who seemed striving to strip him

of his upper garments; a measure which he
appeared to resist with all his might.

“Pooh! pooh!” exclaimed one of the soldiers,
in a rough voice; “there is no use in resisting,
and you may as well take it quietly.”

“Is there no hope they will shoot me?” replied
the struggling prisoner. “Must I be whipped
like a slave?”

“As sure as your name is Long Finne,”
replied the other. “Here comes the tickler,
with his cat-o'-nine-tails; if you had as many
lives as a cat, he'd scourge them all out of you,
I'll swear for it.”

“Then God forgive me!” exclaimed the
youth, as he snatched the bayonet which the
soldier carried stuck in his belt, and directed it
to his own bosom. At that instant, and just as
the point became died in blood, a voice that
went to his soul, exclaimed:—“Hold! in the
name of Heaven! thy honour is saved!” The
next moment Christina sank into his arms, and
her pure white bosom was stained with the blood
of him who pressed her to his heart. When the
blue-eyed maid saw the blood, she started away
in horrible despair. “Am I then too late?
Hast thou done the deed? O! righteous powers,

one moment had saved him and me, and that
moment was wasted!”

Koningsmarke solemnly assured her that he
was not hurt, and that his arm was arrested by
her voice, just in time to save his life.

“And such is thy love for me!” said Christina;
“thou couldst not endure a little for one who
would suffer all for thee.”

“Any thing but stripes and brands. Couldst
thou, dear Christina, bear to link thy fate with
that of a man who bore on his back the scars of
disgrace, and on his brow the brand of indelible
infamy?”

“Yes!” replied she, raising her eyes to Heaven,
as an appeal to the ordeal of truth: “Yes!
but neither thou nor I could bear it long.”

“Come, come,” cried the Heer, who now
for the first time found the use of his eyes and
tongue—“come, come, you young fools, don't
stand here talking and crying before these rough
and tough-hearted knaves, who, I see, don't know
whether to laugh or cry. Mr. Jailor, is the order
sufficient?”

“Perfectly so, sir:—the young gentleman is
free to depart when he pleases.”

“Well, then, let us depart, in God's name,”
quoth the Heer to his young companions. “And

here is something to make merry with, boys,”
throwing a hand full of rix-dollars among
the men of bolts and bars, who greeted him
with cheers, as he departed, and took coach for
the Governor's.