University of Virginia Library

LETTER IV.

A war between the French and English settlers;
on their respective frontiers, was at this time on the
out-break, as it was termed. Several log houses
of remote adventurers had been burned. The Indian
tribes had been enlisted upon the one side and
the other, and news was constantly coming in to
the Blasted Tree, (as Van Tromp's proprietary
or land patent was termed,) of Indian scalps and
massacres.

One evening as he sat alone, thinking of the approaching
troubles, and devising plans of security,
a Negro domestic came into the room, and presented
to him the letter of Du Quesne. He read it
over with the utmost interest. Troubled as he was
to provide for the security of his numerous dependents,
and exposed as he was to sudden inroads of
the hostile Indians, he remembered his promise of
support, and resolved to redeem his pledge. At any
other time he would have gone himself; but to be
absent at present would be desertion, and might
be followed by the ruin of the settlement. Those
who had settled in the neighbourhood, had families
which they could not leave, and were of a capacity
not adequate to the undertaking. The members
of his household were of a motly character, and
yet those only could he employ. Of them, there
was but one on whose desperate spirit of enterprise

and perfect fidelity he could rely; but he doubted
his prudence, and most of all his means. There
seemed no alternative. “Shadrach,” said he calling
to the Negro, who soon made his appearance,
“look for Weshop, and ask him here.”

Van Tromp resumed his meditations, and tried
and rejected a thousand contrivances for his
friend's escape, when the door again opened, and
the Indian warrior made his appearance. His hair
was cut close, except a tuft of jetty black, which
stood upright on the top of his head. The skin
of a rattlesnake was twisted round his neck, his
feet were guarded with mocasins, ornamented with
beads, and a wampum belt was over his shoulders.
He wore round his waist an Indian cincture,
and had his bow in his hand, and his tomahawk
in his girdle. He was what they termed a
friendly Indian, and lived occasionally in this family,
not as a domestic, much less a slave, for to
a state of servitude, it is doubtful whether a genuine
North American Indian was ever reduced, or
is indeed capable of being reduced. The motions
of this being were more free than those of the
master of the mansion. He went and came at any
hour, and consulted his own wishes as to the frequency
of his visits, or the length of his absence.
He had been rescued from his enemies, on one occasion,
by Mr. Van Tromp and the men of his
plantation, and ever afterwards displayed, in its
full force, the principle of Indian gratitude. His
fixed features seldom betrayed the working of his
passions, or any vicissitudes of feeling. Upon
this occasion he continued standing, because it
suited his convenience, and listened with his characteristic
silence and indifference, to the nature of
his commission.

Van Tromp wrote some letters to gentlemen of

influence, requesting their interference in postponing
a trial, till every means could be used in discovering
the truth, and assured his friend that he
would soon come to his assistance.

The Indian took time thoroughly to comprehend
his employment. Whether he there devised any
better plan than the one proposed, is not certain;
but it is certain he never delivered the letters, not
even the one for Du Quesne. A stranger even
might think loud in Weshop's presence, without
the least dauger that his confidence would be betrayed;
and might talk to him a week without obtaining
an exchange of privacy. This trait was
not peculiar to him; the red man never whistles
and sings in the wood; his steps are noiseless, and
his presence unexpected; indeed, to the first settlers
of the country, alarming.

The messenger now made immediate preparation
for his journey. He had just eaten, yet he set
himself to despatch another enormous meal, to
which he was urged, not by appetite, but by calculation,
and loading himself with provisions, departed
so sluggish and dull, that he seemed little
likely to reach the end of his journey, much less
to return. No one questioned him, and no one
missed him.

What were his adventures through the wilderness
was never known, and his route was conjectured
only from his subsequent conduct. It was
about twelve days afterwards, he presented himself
sudden in one of the streets of New-Amsterdam
near the government house, just before the hour
when a meeting was to be held of the governor and
his council. His entrance into the town had not
been observed, and he had the advantage of claim-to
have come from any quarter or any tribe. The
Indians, partly civilized, who lived in the neighbourhood,

were seen daily, but a genuine inhabitant
of the wilderness is always, in a populous
place, an interesting spectacle, particularly (as upon
the present occasion) to the boys and the rabble.

Weshop stood with his bow in his hand, and his
bundle of arrows at his back, stowed in a long
basket or quiver made of splinters; his face gave
no expression of wonder or curiosity. Hundreds
were gazing at him, as he leaned against the railing
that led to the door of the State House, and
were surprised that he took no notice of the spectacle
which to him must be so new. He preserved
his impenetrable stupidity, and was the only one of
the multitude who appeared indifferent, even at the
idle gaze of which he was the object. They tempted
him to show his skill with his bow, but an owl
in the day time could not be duller at taking a hint.
The Council at length convened; the Governor
made his appearance, and was followed by Weshop
into the house. He knew the Governor by the respect
that was shown him as he passed. The door-keeper
would have stopped the intruder, but it happened
that the subject of the present meeting involved
some Indian difficulties, and the Governor's
Dutch fancy had already converted Weshop into
an Indian Ambassador, the rather on account of
his silence and gravity, which the whole Dutch
Council greatly admired. The governor took
some merit to himself for the discrimination with
which he could detect the diplomatic character.—
The wary Indian made a few signs, which the
Council, after the Governor's hint, could at once
interpret, and which they agreed were full as intelligible
as any language which a foreign Ambassador
should venture to use. They complimented
the natural sagacity of the Indian character, which

had directed them to choose an envoy not likely
to commit himself by talking, or betray himself by
passion. The Secretary of the Council, who was
a learned man, took occasion to remark, that in regard
to the establishment of a boundary with the
Indians, it would probably end in a question between
the status ante bellum and the usi possidetus.
Enough seemed done for the first interview. Weshop
was recommended to the jailor, not as a prisoner,
but as a guest; for none of the council
thought of inviting his sansculotte excellency to
dinner; and there was no eating house at the public
expense, but the jail. It is bardly proper to
say that the deportment of Weshop won upon the
jailor, so as to gain his confidence, but it certainly
checked every hint at precaution. He was accommodated
in the chimney corner, where he eat by
himself, and smoked a Dutch pipe that Governor
had given him. He went out but once or
twice during the afternoon, and wandered then no
further than the jail door, where he stood smoking
when the jailor locked up the rooms, after furnishing
the prisoners with their evening meal.

The jailor and his family were in the habit of
retiring early. They gave Weshop a blanket, and
left him in the kitchen to repose before the fire.