University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

The army under the command of General Bacon
had succeeded in concentrating the confederated
tribes of the Peninsula, which had so long
annoyed its flank and rear, at the falls of the
Powhatan. Here they had erected a rude fortification,
composed of fallen trees, having an entrenchment
surrounding it, with the excavated
earth thrown up as an embankment. This was
situated upon an eminence commanding the more
even ground on each side of a small stream, which
ran nearly at right angles with, and fell into the
river below the falls. The army of the Colonists
arrived within sight of the Indian fires, just after
the sun had sunk behind the horizon. General
Bacon's plantation[1] was situated but a short distance
from the very spot on which the savages
had erected their fort, and consequently he was
well acquainted with the ground. After halting
a short time to examine the position of the enemy,
he marched his troops to the open plain beneath
their strong hold, in perfect silence. Here they
bivouacked for the night, with the intention of
storming the intrenchments at the first dawning
of the morrow. Every thing was noiselessly put

in readiness for this final struggle for supremacy
between the whites and the Aborigines. The latter
had collected in overwhelming numbers, and
seemed determined to make a desperate effort to
regain their lost footing in the land of their fathers,
while the former, having daily improved in discipline,
were in high health, buoyant with the
youthful hope and courage, and impatient for the
dawn, that they might strike a blow at once, to
answer the high expectations of their friends at
home, and terminate the war. Little did they
imagine that an army of those very countrymen
was treading in their footsteps, under the command
of Sir William Berkley, with the avowed
purpose of meting to them that chastisement which
they were so impatient to bestow upon the enemy
before them.

Their commander was not long left in ignorance
upon this point, however, for scarcely had the
columns made their arrangements for the night
along each side of the small stream, before a
courier from the capital was brought into his
quarters, by one of the sentinels stationed upon
the outskirts of the encampment. He was the
bearer of a proclamation, signed by Sir William
Berkley as Governor of his Majesty's Colony in
Virginia, in which Bacon and his followers were
denounced as traitors and rebels, and commanded
forthwith to lay down their arms and return to
their allegiance, under pain of death, and confiscation
of their property. The surprise and indignation

occasioned by this singular document had not
subsided, when another messenger was dragged
into the presence of the commander in chief. It
was a negro, trembling from head to foot with
visible terror at the very uncivil treatment which
he had received, and more, perhaps, at the warlike
preparations around, and the glaring effects of the
Indian fires on the hill. All attempts to gain
an intelligible account of his mission proved for
a length of time, utterly unavailing, until Bacon,
recognising something of old acquaintance in his
features, dismissed his attendants. He then quickly
disclosed, in his mongrel dialect, that he had been
ordered to deliver a letter into the general's own
hands, and when no person was present. A greasy
and rumpled document was then drawn from his
pouch, which, notwithstanding its hard treatment,
and discoloured exterior, Bacon instantly recognised
as the writing of Harriet Harrison. The date
was rather more remote than seemed necessary for
its regular transmission to its present destination,
which the sable messenger explained by stating
that he had been some days dodging in the footsteps
of the army, but that as often as he approached
it he had been frightened back again by the flying
hordes of savages, hanging upon their skirts. If
Bacon felt disposed to indulge in merriment at the
ludicrous detail of poor Pompey, the contents of
the note, which he now began to decipher by the
light of a lamp, speedily restored his gravity.
Harriet briefly related to him the nature of the
conversation she had held with Sir William Berkley
at his own house, and the treatment which
Virginia suffered at his hands; she concluded by
stating the preparations then making in Jamestown
by the Governor and his party, to pursue and
capture, or cut them to pieces. This information
was truly startling to the youthful general; that
concerning Virginia was most moving; but the
imminent peril of those gallant spirits entrusted to
his command required his immediate attention.
He despatched a chosen mounted band on the
instant, to scout along the late route of his army,
far enough to ascertain whether that under the
command of Sir William was within such a distance,
as to enable him to interrupt the contemplated
attack upon the savages at the dawning of
the coming day.

Bacon's character was eminently prompt and
decisive. He determined, should such be the
case, to commence the attack upon the instant he
should receive such information.

Having provided for the safety and accommodation
of Pompey, and ordered the courier of the
Governor into close but respectful keeping, he
sallied out along the outposts, to examine the scene
of future operations. The stars twinkled brilliantly
in the heavens around the horizon, but the
glaring light of the savage fires upon the hill threw
the mellowed rays of the heavenly orbs into dim
contrast immediately round the two camps. As
he walked along the margin of the little stream,

upon the borders of which his own troops were
stationed, toward the river, the night-scene presented
to his view was reviving and exciting to his
imagination. The ascending columns of fire upon
the hill reflected the trees and other objects upon
its brow in gigantic shadows over the plain beneath.
The bright red light fell upon the broad
sheet of water below the falls, in long horizontal
rays, stretching far away over its shining surface
toward the opposite shore. The island in the
middle of the stream, a little higher up than the
point at which he stood, was clothed in verdant
impenetrable shrubbery—the darkness gathered
around its shores more palpable from the contrast
of the neighbouring fires. The roar of the falls fell
monotonously upon his ear, ever and anon interrupted
by the sharp shrill whoop of some overjoyous
savage, engaged in orgies within the fort
surmounting the hill. As he pensively stood upon
the banks of the Powhatan, and surveyed the
illuminated scene immediately around, and the
darker shadows of the hills stretching away in the
distance and skirting the margin of the river, the
shining waves beneath his feet, and the dusky outlines
of the rocks and islands beyond, it little entered
his imagination that upon that romantic spot, in
future time, there should spring up a noble city—the
capital of an empire state—that the natural lawns
upon which he stood, would be exchanged for
docks and quays—that the hills on his right hand
(which to a scholar might, even then, have recall
ed the Acropolis) should support classic colonnades,
and spires pointing to the clouds; and that the
diminutive stream upon the banks of which his
troops were bivouacked, should receive, from the
sanguinary battle in which he was about to engage,
a name to outlive the very monuments of his generation.[2]
Without these deeply interesting associations,
however, the scene in its natural and unreclaimed
features was eminently captivating and
romantic. No site in the country abounded more
with bold and enchanting objects. On the one
hand were the picturesque hills,[3] commanding a
prospect seldom equalled, never surpassed, of landscape
varied with woodland, dell and meadow,
through which the shining waters of the Powhatan
were now visible, glowing like a sheet of fire, and
now lost in the shadows of the towering forests, as
it held its devious course beyond the reach of the
reflected fires in the back ground.

Our hero might have stood gazing upon this enchanting
scene until the sound of the reveillé in
the morning had roused him from his revery, had
not his quick eye caught a glimpse of moving lights
within the Indian encampment. With hurried
steps he retraced his way through the line of sentinels,
and issued immediate orders for his subordinates
in command to assemble in military council.
He was satisfied in his own mind, as he walked
up the stream, that some unusual occurrence

had taken place within the palisade of the Indians
—perhaps the presence of his own stationary columns,
as they stood in their dark irowning outlines,
had been discovered by the ever cunning and
watchful enemy. He had more than once stood
in wonder at the apparent absence of their usual
stratagems and devices. He supposed, however,
that, trusting to their immense superiority of numbers,
and the protection of their breastworks,
they had resolved to risk an engagement, in which
courage and strength alone should be the implements
of victory.

The council of war had scarcely assembled,
before they were astounded with the report of
musketry in answer to the usual accompaniments
of a savage sortie, in the most remote direction
of the camp. General Bacon issued his orders
promptly and decisively. The columns whose
rear had been surprised by a sortie from the enemy,
were, by a prompt movement, instantly
wheeled into line, changing their front so as to
face the assailants, while the mounted Cavaliers,
under the command of young Harrison, fiercely
attacked them in flank. The desperate band of
warriors were speedily driven within their breastworks.
It was doubtless only their intention to
harass the outskirts of the army, and then, by
retreating, draw their pursuers within reach of
the ambuscade stationed behind the breastwork.
They were pursued by the mounted troops, who

had no sooner driven them within the palisade,
than they in their turn suddenly wheeled and
retreated upon the main body.

These sallies were kept up through the first
watches of the night, with so much perseverance
on the part of the enemy, and so much annoyance
to the ardent and impatient troops of the patriot
army, that General Bacon determined to give way
to their martial ardour, and at once storm the
strong hold of the enemy.

The plan of battle in this straight-forward mode
of warfare was simple in the extreme. Seldom
had the Aborigines given their white enemies a
chance of testing the relative valour of the two
races; and protected as they were even now by a
formidable breastwork, General Bacon did not
hesitate as to the propriety of trusting to the discipline
and skill of his soldiers, and the immense
superiority of their arms, against the greater numbers
and defensive preparations of the enemy.

The fires within the palisade were apparently
flickering upon their dying embers, and an unsteady
flash, gleaming at intervals, was the only
light shed over the contemplated battle-ground.
A profound quiet reigned within the camp of
the enemy, indicative to the mind of Bacon of
some new treachery or savage scheme. Having
warned his officers against these, he despatched
mounted scouting parties to hover round both
camps, and took every other human precaution

against surprise; orders were now issued preparatory
to a general attack upon the enemy's entrenchments.

By a prompt evolution, his battalions of foot
were wheeled into a solid column of attack on
the northern side of the stream, while the mounted
Cavaliers were stationed as a reserve on the
right. The former were marched in compact
order, directly up the face of the hill, not a trumpet
or a drum disturbing the silence of the funeral-like
procession. The various colours of their
plumes, as they waved in the night breeze, and
the occasional glitter of burnished arms, as a flash
of light fell athwart the solid phalanx from the
flickering fires above, presented one of the most
striking scenes imaginable.

General Bacon assumed the immediate command
of his columns in person. He sat upon his
impatient charger on the right wing, and examined
the ominous appearance of the enemy's camp
with intense interest. Not a warrior's head was
to be seen above the breastwork as they approached.
All was silent, gloomy, and portentous; not
a sound was heard, save the measured tramp of
his own troops, as they moved through the bushes.

Once indeed he thought he heard the wild shrill
scream of a female, very different in its intonations
from the harsh voice of the savage squaw. But so
many unearthly sights and sounds had haunted
both his sleeping and waking hours of late, that

he drove the impression from his mind, to rest
with hundreds of others of like import.

When the front lines had arrived within some
forty yards of the dark and frowning breastwork,
a sudden and momentary check was given to their
farther progress. A rushing sound, as of the
flight of many birds, and the clatter of Indian
arrows against their arms and persons, simultaneously
struck upon their senses, followed by the
fall of many soldiers, and the short ïnvoluntary
exclamations of pain, which, from the impulse of
the moment, escaped the unfortunate individuals.

Trumpets and drums instantaneously broke the
stillness of the march. Their martial notes reverberated
over the surrounding solitudes in enlivening
peals. The ill-omened birds of night
flapped their wings, and swooped through the
unsteady lights of the scene in utter dismay at
this untimely invasion of their prescriptive dominions.
These were quickly followed by a discharge
of musketry, poured into the formidable palisade.
It was scarcely discharged, however, before Bacon
discovered the utter uselessness of such a waste of
ammunition. He saw that the breastwork was so
constructed, that, while it admitted of the discharge
of missiles from within, it afforded a secure
protection to its occupants against the. musketry of
their assailants. In the mean time his soldiers
were exposed to the murderous discharges of
poisoned arrows.

In this emergency no time was to be lost;
placing himself, therefore, at the head of his
troops, he ordered the walls to be torn down.
These, as before related, were composed of large
trees piled one upon another, with their green
boughs still protruding in many places over the shallow
intrenchment, and the earth excavated from the
latter thrown up on the outside agaist a rude
wicker work of fine bushes, filling up the interstices
of the trees. Trumpets sounded the charge,
and the columns moved at a quick pace to the onset.
Still not a savage head was seen until they had
arrived at the very borders of the intrenchment.
Here some two hundred of the stoutest and
ablest bodied of his soldiers were marched up to
the projecting limbs of the largest tree, forming
the basis of the breastwork. Bacon saw at a
glance that if he could manage to seize hold of
these projecting arms and turn the tree across the
fosse, it would at once open the way for his
mounted troops, and perhaps carry with it some
forty or fifty feet of the palisade, and thereby
bring the opposing armies face to face. They
had already seized the projecting limbs, and were
shaking the frail protection of the savages to its
very foundations, when simultaneously a thousand
lights gleamed over forest, hill, and dale—
A thousand voices united their shrill clamours in
one deafening yell of savage ferocity. The troops
engaged in tearing down the breastwork instinctively
loosed their hold, and flew to their arms,
as they threw their eyes upward to the spot

whence these blinding lights and deafening noises
came. It was but the work of an instant, for
little more time were they permitted to examine,—they
were called upon to act, and that
vigorously, for their own preservation. In a
single instant, and apparently at a given signal,
the whole of the rude terrace surmounting the
fortification literally swarmed with painted warriors,
each bearing in his left hand a pine torch,
and in the other, a tomahawk, a war-club, or a
battle-axe.[4] They sprang from their commanding
position into the midst of their assailants, and
scattered themselves in every direction through
that part of the army already advanced to the
breastwork.

Human ingenuity could not have devised a
mode of warfare better calculated to suit their
numbers, position, time, courage, and limited
means of resistance. It at once rendered the
mounted troops useless—prevented the colonists
from using their fire-arms, because those immediately
engaged were at too close quarters, while
those at a greater distance were as likely to kill
friends as enemies. The savages dealt their
murderous blows with wonderous rapidity and
precision, and though the hardy planters in the
front ranks turned upon them with the butt ends
of their muskets, the savages had evidently the
advantage. The blazing fagots were often thrust
into the very faces of their opponents, and while

writhing under the confusion and agony of the
fire and smoke, they were stricken down like
helpless beasts.

Bacon saw the imminent peril of his troops,
and though he was at first astounded by the rapidity
and daring courage with which the plan
was executed, he did not despair, nor yet sit listlessly
upon his horse to see his friends and countrymen
slaughtered. He saw at a glance too that
only the front columns were engaged—that a part
of these must now necessarily fall, but he determined
at the same time, that their deaths should
be dearly avenged, and his remaining troops
brought off victorious. He immediately placed
himself between the forces already engaged and
those rushing to the rescue. The latter he wheeled
into line immediately in front of his mounted reserve,
thereby changing their front to the flank of
the contending parties, while their own right wing
rested upon the top of the hill, and the left on the
little stream already mentioned. Having completed
this evolution to his satisfaction, the mounted
Cavaliers were brought round to the position just
occupied by the foot, so that they immediately
faced the struggling combatants, and the latter
were ordered to give way. The retreat was
sounded from the brazen mouths of the trumpets
over their heads, and Bacon in person and his
mounted aids, rode furiously and recklessly among
them, crying for them to fall back toward the line
stationed on the right.

These various movements were but the work of
a few moments. Meantime the painted and ghastly
warriors, rendered still more horrible by the
flaring lights which they bore in their hands, and
by the reeking instruments of death which they
swung over their head with such unerring precision,
were pouring over the walls upon the devoted
band in countless hordes. So intently were they
engaged, that the evolutions of their enemies had
entirely escaped their attention; and indeed the
Colonists themselves, who were fighting hand to
hand with the savages, had not observed the movement,
until the voices of their commanders urged
them to fall back upon the newly formed line. As
Bacon had calculated, no sooner were the engaged
troops made to understand the orders, and induced
to recede, than a partial separation was effected,
which was fatal to the Aboriginals. The retreating
Colonists were almost immediately under the
protection of the line already braced in solid
column, and standing to the charge[5] ready for the
expected pursuers. A company of the mounted
Cavaliers was broken up into squads, and these
were actively engaged in hewing down the pursuers,
or cutting off their retreat to the protection
of the fort. In a short time a complete line of separation
was formed between the two armies, save
where, here and there, two athletic men of the opposite

races, both having lost their arms in the contest,
struggled in the death gripe. Here an iron
handed mechanist of the city clenched a warrior's
throat—the eyes of the victim protruding frightfully
from his head in the glaring light, and his
tongue hanging from his mouth like that of a rabid
animal, until he fell as a lump of clay among the
hundreds of both parties who had gone before.
There a grim warrior struggled with another,
making desperate efforts to reach his knife, which
the soldier as constantly struggled to prevent.
Yonder among the heaps of slain, lay two of the
differing races, fallen to the earth in a mutual but
deadly clasp, each holding the other by the throat,
until the struggle became one of mere endurance,
and, strange to say, the white man generally conquered.

While, however, these desperate personal struggles
were occurring, the tide of battle was fast
turning against the most numerous party. It was
with the greatest difficulty that Bacon could restrain
the ardour and impetuosity of the troops stationed
in line for the protection of the devoted corps
which had led the van, the straggling members of
which were momentarily retreating behind the
solid bulwark of their countrymen's pikes and
bayonets. But no sooner was this duty of humanity
performed, and a complete line of demarcation
distinctly drawn, than all restraints were removed.
A volley of musketry was poured among
the scattering savages along the face of the hill, in

order to convince them that hereafter they would be
kept at a respectful distance. A simultaneous
movement of horse and foot now swept the brow
of the hill; the horse charged immediately in front
of the palisade, while the infantry drove in the
extended line of savages at the point of the bayonet.
The most inextricable confusion ensued in the
ranks of the red warriors. While the cavalry cut
them down on one hand, and the bayonets of the
infantry transfixed them on the other, hundreds
were tumbling over hundreds as they tumultuously
leaped over the palisade. Some hung by
the projecting bushes—others fell upon the terrace,
and were cast down and trodden under foot by
their companions; while multitudes were cut to
pieces in making the attempt. In a short time the
open field was left in complete possession of the
whites—the brow of the hill was literally covered
with the wounded and the slain, both of white and
red. Yet the battle was not ended; hundreds upon
hundreds had escaped within the fort. The savage
force amounted at the commencement to something
like three thousand warriors of various tribes, and
that of the Colonists to about one thousand.[6] Bacon
earnestly desired to spare the effusion of human
blood, and hazardous as the Indians were as
neighbours, either professing friendship or enmity,
he resolved to send them a flag of truce and propose
a permanent peace upon condition of their
abandoning the Peninsula for ever. He knew that
they understood the sacred rights and privileges of
that peaceful banner, for it had already been recognised
among some of their own tribes. Accordingly
a young and promising officer was thrust
up to the top of the palisade. He waved his flag
and laid his hand upon his heart in token of friendship,
and grounded his sword in order to convince
them that he came upon a peaceful errand, but instead
of sending out their interpreter or prophet,
he was treacherously murdered by a tomahawk—
thrown some twenty yards by the hand of a warrior,
and buried in his brain. All hopes of peace
were now abandoned, and Bacon determined to
complete the victory which he had commenced,
and won thus far at the expense of so many valued
lives.

Orders were again issued for tearing down the
palisade, while a chosen band of prompt and expert
marksmen were stationed at the distance of
some thirty yards, to shoot down the savages as
they should show their heads above the breastwork
Instead of the infantry being stationed to protect
the miners as before, the cavalry formed a column
flanking the marksmen, so that they could at a
moment's warning, rush in between the descending
hordes and the corps engaged in pulling down
the barricade.

Again the trees composing the palisade were
seized by the projecting limbs, and a sudden
wrench brought the earth piled against its outer

side tumbling into the ditch beneath, and shook
the whole fabric to its foundation. Again an ominous
and inexplicable silence prevailed within
the enclosure, which was the more remarkable,
as there was left no known method of escape, and
by their own treachery to the officer who had
borne the flag of truce, they were reduced to the
alternative of dying in their ditches or desperately
cutting their way through the solid phalanx which
enclosed them on every side. Hitherto the marksmen
stationed in front for the purpose of clearing
the terrace of the savages, as they should mount
the breastwork from the inside, had little to do.
At length a group of savages displayed their painted
faces above the barrier, apparently endeavouring
to drag some unwieldy burden to the top of
the works. They were instantly shot down, but
their places were as speedily supplied by others.
A faint but piercing shriek rent the air, which
promptly arrested the attention of Bacon, Dudley,
and young Harrison, who sat upon their horses
superintending the operations of the miners, and
holding an occasional discourse among themselves.
The voice came evidently from a female, and reminded
Bacon that he had once before during the
night heard a like sound from the same direction.
He waved his sword to the marksmen stationed
on his left, to withhold their fire, while his own
attention and that of his two associates were intently
rivetted to the occupation of the group ascending
the wall from the other side. At this
moment the large tree which the troops in front
had been some time shaking loose, came crashing
over upon its limbs, and bringing with it those
which had been piled above, thus exposing to
view the interior of the fort, but not yet affording
an uninterrupted passage for the besiegers. The
battalions of foot, however, were tumultuously
rushing toward the breach, reckless of the interposing
branches and trunks of the prostrate trees, when
Bacon, in a voice of thunder commanded them to
halt! The very moment the fort gave way a sight
was revealed to his eyes, and those of his two
comrades, which made the hair rise on end upon
their heads, and the blood in their veins run cold
with horror. The Indians, who had so long
struggled to ascend the fort some twenty or thirty
yards from the breach, had at length succeeded,
bearing one of the objects which so powerfully
arrested the attention of the officers on horseback.
Two grim warriors supported between them the
body of a woman of the European race, while a
third stood behind her, on the top of the palisade
with uplifted tomahawk. With one hand he held
the weapon suspended over the head of the drooping
victim, while with the other, he pointed to
the neighbouring breach in the breastwork, with
a look and gesture that seemed to say, “advance,
and her fate is sealed!” Although the light from
the smouldering fires was dim and unsteady, enough
was caught of the outlines of this figure to thrill to
the very heart-strings of the three spectators; she
was upheld on either side by the mere strength
of her guards—her feet seemed to have sunk from
under her—but her head was erect and turning
with wonderful rapidity from side to side, as she
gazed with wild and glaring eyes upon the scene
around her. Her fair silken tresses fell unrestrained
upon her shoulders or were blown about
in fluttering streams, as the unsteady light fell
now in broad masses, and then in dim and shadowy
rays. Her dress was white, and fell in ample
folds around all that was left of a once symmetrical
figure. Her features were ashy pale and
attenuated to the last degree of human wretchedness,
her eye shot forth the wild flashes of a frenzied
mind. She was entirely unconscious of her
danger, and though she seemed to examine the
wild scene around, it was not with fear and trembling.
A sickly smile played upon her death-like
features, as if she rather took pleasure than suffered
pain in these unusual sights, or saw embodied before
her in palpable form somewhat of the fleeting
phantasmagoria which had so long eluded her senses,
yet she was speechless—and so were the late combatants.

A profound and solemn silence prevailed throughout
the ranks of both parties. The fate of battle,
or the life of an individual, was suspended upon
the results of the moment. It was soon interrupted,
wildly, fearfully interrupted! The threatened victim
burst into a convulsion of frantic laughter, the
wild unguided tones of a voice once rich and

musical, were borne along the still night air, and
resounded through the dark forest like some unearthly
mockery of human merriment. As if a
thunderbolt from heaven had instantaneously
stricken her dumb she ceased. The sounds of
her own voice startled and astonished her; perhaps
some dim rememberance of its former tones,
as it rose and fell upon the air, floated darkly
through her mind. The grim old warriors who
supported her, were impressed with awe and fear,
and the very executioner was almost overcome
with his native superstitious reverence. The
events we have just described occupied but a few
moments of time,—far less than we have taken
to describe them. At this juncture, and while
the three stern Indians maintained their posts,
Wyanokee sprang upon the terrace, struck the
tomahawk from the hands of the ready executioner—pushed
him backward over the palisade,
and threw herself recklessly upon the unfortunate
lady, encircling her with her arms. At the
same instant her two astounded countrymen fell
lifeless from the terrace, pierced to the heart by
the unerring balls of the sharp shooters.

The Colonial army now broke tumultuously into
the fort. Here another threatened victim had
been held as a suspended pledge over their fires, for
the safety of this their last strong hold, but so intense
had been the interest excited in behalf of the
unfortunate Mrs. Fairfax, that little attention was
bestowed upon him. It was none other than

Brian O'Reily. When the breach was made in
the fort, he was discovered in the centre of the
area, tied fast to a stake driven into the ground. A
quantity of resinous pine wood was built high up
around his body, and half a dozen torch-bearers
stood ready to apply the flame. The report of the
muskets had no sooner announced the death of their
comrades on the wall, than this pile was fired in a
a hundred places. Already the victim began to
writhe as the intolerable heat scorched his flesh,
and the smoke rushed into his eyes and throat. As
the soldiers entered through the breach with Dudley,
who had dismounted, at their head, he rushed
toward the suffering victim, and, assisted by his followers,
hurled the burning brands upon the heads
of those who kindled them.

Meanwhile Bacon had also dismounted. He
saw that the contest would now be short, and giving
his orders to Dudley, he leaped upon the palisade
where Wyanokee was vainly endeavouring to
support and restrain his former patroness, who
had repeatedly and fruitlessly endeavoured to stand
erect, and as often had fallen back into the arms of
the Indian maiden. As Bacon approached, his whole
soul agitated with deep and thrilling emotions, she
was sitting upon the wall, forcing herself farther
and farther back, like a frighted infant, into the
arms of her protectress. Her eyes started wildly
upon the approaching youth, and the lids fell not
over the painfully distended orbs. She did not
recognise him, even when he approached within a

few paces and kindly and soothingly addressed
her. At one moment she seemed about to make
some reply, but the half formed words died upon
her lips—they moved as though she held the desired
discourse, but no sound was audible. The
wild noise and confusion of the onset, breaking
upon her ears, she started up and cried “Hah!
see you not that the king's troops put those of the
commonwealth to the sword? Behold his giant
form weltering in gore! 'Tis gone! It was not
he! No, no; I saw not the bloody hand. It was
merely one of these puppet warriors dressed out to
frighten babes. He lives! did he not tell me so,
with his own lips? Do the dead tell the living
lies? That were a trick of the devil indeed.”
Again she burst into a horrible and appalling
laugh, fell back into the arms of Wyanokee,
and her mortal pains and sorrows were for ever
ended.

The long-disputed contest was now drawing to
a close; the Indians fought desperately, as long as
there was a hope left of repulsing the troops which
rushed in at the breach, burning with ardour and
roused to indignation by their wanton cruelties;
but the superior arms and skill of the Colonists
rendered the contest in a short time utterly desperate
on the part of the besieged. When farther
resistance was put out of their power, by the besiegers
closing in upon them on every side, and
thus confining their exertions within a narrow
space in the centre of the fort, the stern warriors

threw away their tomahawks and war-clubs, and
fell prostrate on their faces. It was a moving sight
to behold these hardy veterans of a hundred battles,
gradually encompassed by a more skilful and
powerful enemy, until they were forced to surrender
this last foothold upon the land of their fathers.
Their prostrate attitude was by no means intended
to express an abject petition for mercy; it was the
custom established by their people, and its impulse
was utter desperation. They neither desired nor
expected quarter, but threw themselves upon the
earth, to signify their willingness to meet the tortures
of their enemies. When placed under the
vigilance of the troops appointed to guard them
until dawn, they sat like statues, not a muscle or
feature expressing emotion of any kind.

Bacon stood over the body of his late kind and
unfortunate patroness, as still and motionless as
his own prisoners, contemplating the sad change
which a few short days had made upon her mild
and benignant features, until reminded by Dudley
that he had other duties to perform. The latter
approached and informed him that the garrison
had surrendered. He heeded him not. He repeated
his information, and touched the general
upon the shoulder. Bacon started wildly for an
instant, but seeing who spoke, a meaningless
smile flitted across his features while he answered,
“True, true, Dudley, I will attend you in a moment;”
and was about to relapse into his former
mood, but rousing himself, he issued orders for

pitching his own marquée, and then directed that
the dead body of Mrs. Fairfax should be borne
thither and deposited under its shelter with all due
respect. Till now, Wyanokee had sat near the
cold and lifeless form. Not a tear was shed nor
any other indication given that she had lost a
friend, esteemed by her one of the first of the earth.
There was, perhaps, just a perceptible expression
of wildness and mystery in her steady and abstracted
gaze on vacancy, as if in thought she was
following the departed spirit to the verdant forests
and blossoming meadows of the happy hunting-ground
beyond the sky. It is true that she had
been somewhat instructed in the doctrines of our
religion, but he has made little progress in the
study of mankind who does not know that the peculiar
opinions—the forms of worship, whether of
superstition or religion, which have been infused
into the mind in the tender years of infancy, will
ever after give a tinge to the views of the recipient.
But Wyanokee had by no means renounced
the doctrines of her father's worship, and however
much her mind may have been worked upon while
under the influence of the whites, and of the imposing
form and ceremonies of the Established
Church, since her abjuration of their friendship,
she had imperceptibly lapsed into most of her
aboriginal notions.

When the body of Mrs. Fairfax was laid out
under the marquée of the commander in chief, and
a line of sentinels was established around its limits,

Wyanokee was the sole living tenant of the apartment.
She sat by the corpse, in precisely the
same state which we have before described.

In a very short time from that in which Dudley
announced the termination of the conflict to his
commanding officer, profound quietness reigned
over the fort and brow of the hill, so lately the
scene of bloodshed and strife, save where it was
disturbed by the movements of those engaged in
burying the dead, and rescuing the wounded who
lay suffering under the weight of their dead comrades.

Never had such a battle been fought in Virginia,
either as regarded the number of Indians engaged,
the consequences depending on the result, or the
sanguinary nature of the conflict itself. It was
the last struggle for supremacy between the whites
and the Indians in the Peninsula.