University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

The night was dark and lowering, and masses
of heavy clouds enveloped the city, a bright red
column of fire ever and anon shot fitfully up from
the smouldering ruins of the magazine, tipping the
clouds with a crimson tinge, and illuminating the
city to the light of noonday, and again suddenly
giving place to volumes of thick sulphureous smoke
which involved the surrounding objects in tenfold
darkness. Drums were heard beating to arms—
trumpets sounding the charge—fifes piercing the
air—beils ringing the alarm—muskets and petronels
discharged in quick succession, swords clashing,
women shrieking, and men were seen running
hither and thither in all the tumult of popular commotion.
Bacon had no sooner lifted his frightened
protegées into the carriage, than rushing into
the back court, he found Dudley at the head of their
youthful corps already desperately engaged with
the Roundheads. He immediately threw himself
into the thickest of the fight. With all their
desperate valour, however, the two young officers
were quickly sensible that they had entirely miscalculated
the number and appointments of their
enemies. In vain they endeavoured to repulse the
hardy veterans who forced their way to the doors

and windows of the gubernatorial mansion. The
assailants moved to their work in a solid phalanx,
that veteran soldier Worley, conspicuous at their
head, and literally hewing down all opposition.
One line after another of the valiant and high born
youths fell before the murderous weapons of the
insurgents. In vain did Bacon and Dudley, and
Beverly and Ludwell, all now united in a common
cause, enact prodigies of valour; their impetuous
lunges fell powerless upon the iron frames of their
opponents. Crowds of citizens now rushed against
the insurgents some armed with swords, others
with scythe blades, others again with bludgeons,
and the rest with such means of destruction as they
could seize in the street as they hurried to the contest.
The accession of strength to the cause of the
government was as yet of little avail, Bacon and
his followers being driven to the walls, while the
insurgents were protected on each side by a high
wooden fence or barricade. Tables, chairs and
bedsteads were hurled upon the heads of the besiegers,
and the lower windows were throaged with eager
citizens, throwing their hastily seized weapons
upon the heads of the foe in a vain effort to come
within reach. The Cromwellians were now likewise
receiving momentary reinforcements of those
who leapt the high fences, and filled up the vacancies
in the rear, as the front ranks fell in the desperate
rencounter with the youths and citizens. To
whom the victory would fall could not long prove
doubtful, situated as they now were; this Sir William
Berkley and his kinsman Fairfax had no doubt
perceived early in the engagement, for a shout
from a multitude without the enclosure, in the
midst of which might be heard the voice of Brian
O'Reily, now announced the presence of the Governor.
The welcome sound was speedily and cheerily
answered by the sinking youths within, who
took courage at the approach of succour, and fought
with renewed spirit. The wooden barricade was
now seen to heave and shake, with every motion
and creak of which O'Reily shouted in chorus, until
at length the whole yielded and fell with a loud
crash. A rush of citizens quickly filled up the
breach, and poured their blows into the flank of the
Roundheads, who now changing their front charged
upon their new assailants, at the head of whom
were the Governor and Gideon Fairfax. The two
old Cavaliers laid about them in a style worthy of
their best and most chivalrous days, and the citizens
as stoutly supported them although but
poorly armed and equipped for such a rencounter.
By this change of front the gallant little
corps which had so long maintained its ground,
was now in some measure relieved, and no longer
subject to the murderous strokes of the ironhanded
Cromwellians. By the order of Bacon
they now poured their fire into the flank of the
enemy, and by this double annoyance to their phalanx,
would doubtless have speedily terminated the
conflict, but the friends of the Insurgents without,
taking example by the manœuvre of the governor
and his party, now broke down the barricade on
the other side, and rushed in their turn to the scene
of conflict. As this new reinforcement were pushing
through the court to jointheir friends, in storming
the first breach, a loud explosion from Sir William's
quarter was heard, followed by the groans
and shrieks of a whole phalanx of the old and new assailants,
in whose ranks a perfect lane was cut by this
discharge of grape shot through the very centre of
their column. A rush was now instantly made for
the possession of the cannon, and as the citizens
poured through the governor's house and the Roundheads
through the new breach in the party-wall, a
deadly scuffle ensued, which became more and more
ferocious and sanguinary as each party received
fresh accessions from their friends without. And
though the Cavaliers and their supporters outnumbered
their enemies, the latter had decidedly the advantage
in equipment, strength and discipline;
more especially in the hand-to-hand mode of warfare
which now became necessary from the numbers
crowded into so small a space. But there was
another advantage which they possessed—they had
but one commander, the veteran Worley, while
the Cavaliers and citizens of the town were at one
time commanded by Bacon, and at another by Sir
William Berkley.

Bacon perceiving the effect of this circumstance,
singled out and attacked the opposite leader in
person, determined, if he lost his life in the unequal
conflict, to make the attempt at least to place
the two parties on a more equal footing. But

Worley quickly detected his aim, and being a not
less expert swordsman than his antagonist, took
advantage of an impetuous thrust, and quickly
brought him to the grapple of close quarters. One
excelled in strength, and the other in activity,
but nothwithstanding the latter, superior powers
of endurance would soon have ended the duel unfavourably
for our hero, had not a blow from behind
brought his powerful enemy to the ground.
Before Bacon discovered O'Reily, he was well
convinced that the bludgeon which had interfered
so opportunely in his behalf, was wielded by no
tyro at the weapon. However, he lost but few
seconds, either upon his assailant or deliverer, but
quickly directed his attention to matters of more
absorbing importance in the direction of cannon.
Meantime O'Reily seized the opportunity afforded
by the engrossing nature of the conflict, in the
quarter just mentioned, and stooping down he took
one of Worley's feet under each arm, using his legs
as shafts, and dragged him off to a horse stall hard
by, where having deposited the insensible veteran
upon the straw, he turned the key and consigned
it to his pouch.

The battle now consisted almost entirely of numerous
desperate individual conflicts, each citizen
as he arrived singling out some hated Roundhead
neighbour, and he in his turn as anxious to vent
the party and personal hatred which had been so
long festering within his bosom. Sir William
Berkley perceiving that their veteran foes had a

decided advantage in the position now occupied
by the parties respectively, quickly devised a
scheme, in concert with Mr. Fairfax, by which,
while the Governor kept the enemy engaged over
the cannon, the latter should take a score of sturdy
citizens, and rushing in, regardless of consequences,
drag this sole apparent cause of contention into
the public square, and thus change the scene of
action to a more open position, where the superior
bodily strength of the insurgents could no longer
avail them. The measure was executed with great
spirit and promptitude, and succeeded beyond
their most sanguine expectations; for no sooner
had the citizens commenced dragging the piece at
a brisk trot, than both parties tumultuously pressed
round its wheels, and thus unconsciously were
brought into a fair field of action. Bacon, as soon
as he saw the design of the movement, wheeled
his hardy youths through the Governor's house,
and formed a line at the critical moment when the
confused combatants arrived fighting over the gun:
thus affording a rallying point for the friends of
order and the government. The governmental
troops immediately formed upon the line already
partly established by Bacon and his corps, and thus
the gun was at length brought to bear for a time upon
the opposing ranks. The light which had hitherto
fitfully gleamed upon the strife, was now sinking
after long intervals, and emitting that unsteady
and wavering flame which announces rapidly approaching
extinction. A few rounds of musketry
and one or two discharges from the small fieldpiece,
and the arena of conflict was shrouded in
impenetrable darkness, save from the momentary
glare which preceded the explosions. The
Cromwellians, locking their column more compactly
together, rushed in a solid body upon the
newly formed line of the citizens. So sudden and
so impetuous was this movement, and so skilfully
executed, that the brave but ill disciplined combatants,
against whom it was directed, gave way
before the solid phalanx of the enemy, leaving the
long disputed fieldpiece surrounded by the Insurgents.
They immediately turned its muzzle upon
its late owners, and were about charging it with
the usual silence and promptitude of their movements,
when a bright light from a burning torch
was seen forcing its way almost undisputed through
their ranks. The Cromwellians stood aside for its
passage with an irresolute sort of tardiness, produced
by a doubt whether the bearer were a friend
or an enemy. But they were not left long in
suspense, for he had no sooner arrived at this
point, now forming the line between the contending
parties, than he sprang upon the carriage of
the gun, holding his torch aloft, so as to shed
a glaring light upon the assembled multitude of
both parties, who stood now for a moment of truce,
in wonder at the strange and gigantic figure before
them.

“Hold!” said he in a loud authoritative voice,
and waiving his hand with a commanding gesture

over the ranks of the Roundheads who crowded
round him. “Where is your commander, Worley?”

“He is slain,” answered twenty voices.

“His blood be upon his own head. Where is
he who commandeth in his stead?”

“Here am I,” said a short black visaged thickset
man. “Here am I, Ananias Proudfit, whom
the Lord hath commissioned this night to take
away the wicked from the land, and to root out
the Amalekite, and the Jebusite, and the Perizzite,
and the Hittite, and the Girgashite and the Amorite.
And are not this council and this wicked Governor
justly comparable to the five Kings who took
shelter in the cave of Makkeda, who were”—

“Peace, brawler, peace,” thundered the gigantic
umpire, “and cease to pervert the word of God
to thy murderous and unholy purposes. Take
warning by the fate of thy predecessor. Thou
would'st not listen to a more safe and peaceable
admonition, administered in humility and good
faith. Now I tell thee that if thou art still deaf,
this good sword shall eleave thy hardened skull,”
and he drew his formidable weapon and brandished
it over the torch. “Hah! sayest thou so,”
said the enraged Proudfit, aiming a deadly blow at
the gigantic figure towering above him, but which
the stranger struck aside with the ease of a wary
and practised swordsman, and in the next moment
as he had promised, drove his ponderous weapon
into the skull of his assailant. Then hurling his
torch into the advancing throng of the Independents,

he brandished the huge glittering blade in
fearful circles around the besieged gun, and quickly
cleared a space for its more dexterous and effectual
employment.

The fight was now renewed in all quarters, but
evidently to greater disadvantage on the part of the
Insurgents, than they yet had to contend with.
The loss of their commander a second time, even
in the ordinary course of warfare, would doubtless
have disheartened them, but the circumstances under
which the last had fallen—the superstitious
reverence in which they were accustomed to hold
the Recluse—all contributed to damp their ardour,
to say nothing of the bloody barricade he had already
piled around his person. They were now,
too, in a comparatively open field, where the greater
numbers of their enemies could avail much, and
where no opportunity was afforded for the fatal
grapple which had so well served the rebels in the
earlier stages of the conflict. They were assailed
from all points of the square at the same moment,
while the Recluse, in the very heart of their ranks,
was literally hewing them down like weeds and
cumberers of the ground. No quarter was asked or
given—they had staked their all upon the success
of their enterprise, and seemed determined, long
after all hope of success in their first project must
have failed, to leave a bloody monument to their
foolhardy courage, if not to their wisdom and forethought.
Nathaniel Bacon, exhausted by the loss
of blood from wounds received in the desperate

repulse of the insurgents during the early part of
the engagement, and feeling his tremendous responsibility
for his inadequate preparations, no
longer so onerous or so urgent upon himself, fell
upon the field, and was borne to the house of his
early friend and patron.

With the powerful aid of the Recluse, and the
accumulating reinforcements from the loyal citizens
of the town, the remainder of the gallant but
misguided zealots were soon either cut down, captured,
or put to flight. The slain of the Cavalier party
were laid out in the State House, while those of
the opposite faction were deposited in the tobacco
warehouse, so lately the scene of youthful revels.

The wounded were removed to the houses of
their friends and relations throughout the city, and
in a short time as profound silence reigned along
its deserted streets as if no one had arisen to disturb
its peace. Not an individual could be found
who had seen the Recluse after the termination of
the struggle. The slain were carefully examined,
but no such huge proportions as his lay stretched
in death, among the gory trophies of his prowess.

The veteran soldiers, so many of whom had fallen,
while others were confined within the jail of the
colony, were a remnant of Cromwell's soldiers who
had been sent from the parent country, on account
of their restless and dangerous propensities, some
of them had been sold into temporary bondage,
while others established themselves in business or
planting on their own account. They had formed

the desperate resolution of rising upon the governor
and his guests while seated over their wine,
supposing that, in the promiscuous massacre which
they had intended to perpetrate, all the councillors,
and leading men of the colony would be
swept away, and themselves thereby enabled to
revolutionize the government.

The Recluse had doubtless been vainly urged to
join their desperate faction, and it would appear
that they had either depended upon their threats
of vengeance as a sufficient warrant for his fidelity,
or trusted to his supposed predilection for their
cause, and hatred against the authorities then at
the head of colonial affairs. Nor does it appear
that he did openly and boldly betray them. Bacon
had by some means or other of his own, pryed so
far into the secret of the incipient rebellion as to
learn who were the prominent leaders—by the suggestion
of the Recluse, obtained through the agency
of Virginia, he had found access to the ear of one
Berkenhead, an influential man among them, who,
influenced by gold and liberal promises, betrayed
so much of the conspirators' designs as enabled Bacon
to adopt the preparati ons of which we have just
seen the result. And though they were of themselves
totally inadequate, yet they served the purpose
of keeping the murderers at bay, until time
was afforded for the intervention of the citizens,
and thus had preserved the lives of the Governor and
his Council, together with those of many members
of the House of Burgesses. The Assembly, which

convened three days afterward, unanimously voted
three thousand weight of tobacco to the traitor
Berkenhead, and passed sundry pious resolutions
of thanks to the Almighty for their deliverance,
besides setting the day apart as one of thanksgiving
for ever after.

The ancient city presented a strange and desolate
appearance on the succeeding morning, in the
neighbourhood of the public square. Houses were
deserted by their tenants, windows shattered, palings
pulled down, the ground stained with blood;
guns, petronels, swords, hats, and missiles of various
descriptions lay scattered about in strange
confusion.

At length the drowsy citizens were awakened
to the importance of the day. A court of inquiry
was assembled for the purpose of investigating the
conspiracy which had so nearly proved fatal to the
existing order of things on the previous night.
The prisoners were brought from the jail to the
Court House in irons, and all the witnesses supposed
to know any thing of the matter, were in
readiness. Nathaniel Bacon was the first called,
but Mr. Fairfax came forward and stated that his
wounds were so much more dangerous than had
previously been supposed, that the surgeon strictly
enjoined quiet and repose, and recommended
if possible to postpone taking his deposition
for the present. As the testimony was ample
and satisfactory without his attendance, the examination
of course proceeded. Berkenhead's deposition

was essentially what we have already more
succinetly stated in explanation of the insurrection,
and most of the other witnesses testified only to
what the reader has already seen or surmised. There
was one witness, however, whose testimony was
so novel and amusing, amidst the general scene of
confusion and bloodshed, that we must by no means
neglect it. Brian O'Reily was called in his turn
to give evidence on behalf of the crown on a charge
of treason against the prisoners at the bar.

“Well, O'Reily,” said the examining officer,
“please to tell the court what you know of the
treasonable practices of any of the prisoners at the
bar.”

“Be the twelve Apostles and St. Patrick into
the bargain, I caught one iv them in the very act.”

“What act did you see, O'Reily, and which of
these men was the perpetrator?”

“Faix it was just trason itself I caught him at;
sure if I hadn't brought his head acquainted wid
my shelaleigh, he'd iv murthered one of the king's
officers iny way—young master Bacon.”

“Well, tell us which of these men it was, and
any thing you know concerning the getting up of
this rebellion.”

“The man's not there at all at all—he's at another
bar, and has been this ten hours gone.”

“He's at the bar of God, you mean?”

“I mane no sich thing, axing your honour's pardon
for conthradictin you. Here's the key that's
turned an 'im; besides, didn't I slape by the door

all night wid nobody for company but a small dhrop
iv whiskey, and didn't I spake to him this morning
through the key hole, and didn't he coax and palaver
wid me to let him out, and didn't he come
over me wid his wife and nine childre, one at the
breast, barrin that I knew it was a d—d lie at that
same recknin, savin your presence, an didn't he
fret about bein cooped up in sich a place all night
wid nothin to ate an the same to dhrink, barrin
the hay that was in the rack, an didn't I answer
him from the contints iv the book, sayin that
many a betther man than him had been born and
brought up in a manger, (crossing himself) an didn't
he call me all sorts iv hathen names; indeed an
he did—the best iv them was cut-throat and horsethaif,
only they were in the Habrew language, an
didn't I tell him he was a Judaite, an a wolf in
sheep's clothin, an that he hated the very name iv
Bacon. and may be he didn't call me a dam'd
papist? An didn't I tell him he'd live to see his
own funeral iny way? an didn't he answer me all
about popes and bulls and papists? Oh! get away
wid your blarney, says I, you're safe now as the
Governor's old bull wid the short tail and the
shambles on two of his legs, only I tould him he'd
perhaps be likein the darbies on his hands instead
of his trotters.”

“And who was this, Brian, that you held this
long discourse with through a key hole? You're
giving us another of your drunken dreams I fear?”

“Divil a word iv a lie's in it, your haner, hav'nt

I just come from the stable door, and didn't I set
ould growler, the bull dog to watch by him till I
came back—sure he cant come over him wid his
blarney about the wife and the nine childer—O be
gorra I'm so tender hearted, it was a clane temptation
to me.”

“Who was it had the nine children?”

“Auld Nick fly away wid the nine he's got iv
them; didn't I tell your haner it was all blarney to
move the tinder feelings of Brian O'Reily?”

“Who was it then, you were talking to through
the key hole?”

“An 'is it his name your haner's axing after all
this time? couldn't you just say so at wanst, an
not throw me out wid the story all thegither? It's
the Divil's own aid-the-camp I'm thinkin. It's the
man that makes swords all the time he's makin
horse shoes, they call him Worley I'm thinkin.”

“Worley! is it possible? have you seen him
this morning?”

“Be the contints iv the book but I saw him
not an hour gone, through the key hole; he was
stanin up to hay like the Governor's horse, but his
appetite seemed to uv left him intirely.”

“Can you show the officers where he is?”

“I can do that same, I'm bould to say; didn't I
tell your haner it's the key I had was turned an
im?”

“And what is it the key of, O'Reily?”

“Faix it's the key to the Governor's stable.”

(This answer produced a loud laugh from the spectators.)
“Divel a word o lie's in it.”

“Well, O'Reily, the officers are waiting on you;
only prove to us that this is not another of your
drunken reveries, and it shall turn out better for
you than you now expect. Since it has been ascertained
that this man Worley was not to be found
among the slain, the Governor has issued his proclamation,
offering two hundred pounds for his apprehension,
dead or alive.”

“Oh!” said O`Reily, as he was going out of
the door, “but I'm afeard you'll find him rather in a
state iv thribulation, I did some killen an im myself:
Oh wasn't that a beauty iv a shelaleigh?
Only to think of two hundred pounds; faix if I
get it but I'll have it set in brass.”

The officers in attendance, with Brian at their
head, soon emerged from the Governor's stable
amidst the shouts and cheers of the multitude. The
unfortunate Roundhead commander was brought
into court, suffering severely from thirst, and the
effects of the contusion, produced by the violence
of O'Reily's blow.

We will not detain the reader over revolting
portions of the trial either now or hereafter; suffice
it to say, therefore, in brief, that O'Reily received
the interest of two hundred pounds ever afterwards,
for his capture of the Rebel Chief. Four of the
ringleaders at the second, and final trial were condemned
and speedily executed, and the others
recommended to mercy. Thus was terminated

this sanguinary conflict, the last convulsive throe
of the Independent faction in the British dominions
of North America.

As our tale is no farther directly connected with
this ill-advised and hopeless insurrection, we proceed
in the next chapter with the direct thread of
our narrative, the principal personages of which
were so directly concerned in the bloody affair just
related, that we could not pass it over with any
kind of regard to historical accuracy.