University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

John Gilpin.

At the extremity of the cape or headland which
formed the lower or more seaward point of the crescent-shaped
harbour, was erected the Fort of St.
Mary's, where it threatened equal defiance to such
as might meditate disturbance either by sea or land.
A few hundred paces in the rear of the fort, stood
the ample dwelling-house of the Lord Proprietary
with its gables, roofs, chimneys and spires, sharply
defined against the eastern sky. A massive building
of dark brick, two stories in height, and penetrated
by narrow windows, looking forth, beyond the fort,
upon the river, constituted the chief member or main
body of the mansion. This was capped by a wooden,
balustraded parapet, terminating, at each extremity,
in a scroll like the head of a violin, and, in the middle,
sustaining an entablature that rose to a summit
on which was mounted a weathercock. From this
central structure, right and left, a series of arcades,

corridors, and vestibules served to bring into line a
range of auxiliary or subordinate buildings of grotesque
shapes, of which several were bonneted like
haycocks—the array terminating, on one flank, in a
private chapel surmounted by a cross, and, on the
other, in a building of similar size but of different
figure, which was designed and sometimes used for
a banqueting room. The impression produced on
the observer, by this orderly though not uniform
mass of building, with its various offices for household
comfort, was not displeasing to his sense of rural
beauty, nor, from its ample range and capacious accommodation,
did it fail to enhance his opinion of the
stateliness and feudal importance, as well as of the
hospitality of the Lord Proprietary. The armorial
bearings of the Baltimore family, emblazoned on a
shield of free-stone, were built into the pediment
of an arched brick porch which shaded the great
hall door. In the rear of the buildings, a circular
sweep of wall and paling reached as far as a group
of stables, kennels and sheds. Vanward the same
kind of enclosures, more ornate in their fashion, shut
in a grassy court, to which admission was gained
through a heavy iron gate swung between square,
stuccoed pillars, each of which was surmounted by
a couchant lion carved in stone. Ancient trees
shaded the whole mass of dwelling-house, court and
stable, and gave to the place both a lordly and comfortable
aspect. It was a pleasant group of roof and
bower, of spire and tree to look upon from the city,
towards sunset, when every window-pane flung back
the lustre of a conflagration; and magnificently did
it strike upon the eye of the liegemen as they sat at
their doors, at that hour, gazing upon the glorious
river and its tranquil banks. Nor less pleasant was
it to the inmates of the baronial mansion to look back
upon the fair village-city, studding the level plain
with its scattered dwellings which seemed to sleep
upon the grassy and shaded sward.

A garden occupied the space between the proprietary
residence and the fort, and through it a pathway
led to a dry moat which formed one of the defences
of the stronghold, into which admission was
obtained from this quarter by a narrow bridge and
postern gate. A palisade of sharp pickets fringed
the outer and inner slopes of the ditch,—or, to speak
more technically, guarded the scarp and counterscarp.
The fort itself sat like a square bonnet on
the brow of the headland. Its ramparts of earth
were faced outwardly by heavy frame-work of hewn
logs, which, on the side looking askant towards the
town, were penetrated by an arched gateway and
secured by heavy doors studded thick with nails.
This portal opened upon a road which lay along the
beach beneath the cliff, all the way to the upper extremity
of the town. Several low buildings within,
appropriated to barracks and magazines, just peered
above the ramparts. A few pieces of brass cannon
showed like watch-dogs against the horizon, and,
high above all, fluttered the provincial banner bearing
the cross of England, and holding the relation of

a feather to the squat bonnet which the outline of the
work might suggest to one curious to trace resemblances.

The province, it may be surmised, was belligerent
at this day. For although the Lords Barons of Baltimore,
absolute Proprietaries of Maryland and
Avalon, would fain have encouraged a pacific temper,
and desired ever to treat with the Indians upon
terms of friendly bargain and sale, and in all points
of policy manifested an equitable disposition towards
the native men of the forest, the province, nevertheless,
had its full share of hard blows. There was
seldom a period, in this early time, when some Indian
quarrel was not coming to a head; and, young as
the province was, it had already tasted of rebellion
at the hands of Clayborne, and Ingle,—to say nothing
of that Fendall who was fain to play Cromwell in
the plantation, by turning the burgesses out of their
hall, and whose sedition hath still something to do
with my story.—However peaceable, therefore, the
Lord Proprietary might incline to be, he could not
but choose stand by his weapons.

In the view of these and kindred troubles, the freemen
of the province had no light service in their
obligations of military duty. One of the forms in
which this service was exacted, in addition to the
occasional requisition, on emergency, of the whole
population fit to bear arms, and in addition also to a
force of mounted rangers who were constantly engaged
in scouring the frontier, was in the maintenance
of a regularly paid and trained body of

musqueteers who supplied the necessary garrisons
for the principal forts. That of St. Mary's, which
was the oldest and most redoubtable strong-hold in
the province, was furnished with a company of forty
men of this class who were, at the date of this tale,
under the command of a personage of some note,
Captain Jasper Dauntrees, to whom I propose to introduce
my reader with something more than the
slight commendation of a casual acquaintance.

This worthy had been bred up to the science of
arms from early youth, and had seen many varieties
of service,—first, in the civil wars in which he took
the field with the royal army, a staunch cavalier,—
and afterwards, with a more doubtful complexion of
loyalty, when he enlisted with Monk in Scotland, and
followed his banner to London in the notable exploit
of the Restoration. Yielding to the bent of that humour
which the times engendered, and in imitation
of many a hungry and peace-despising gallant of his
day, he repaired to the continent, where, after various
fortunes, he found himself in the train of Turenne
and hard at loggerheads with the Prince of Orange,
in which passage of his life he enjoyed the soldierly
gratification of lending a hand to the famous ravage
of the Palatinate.

Some few years before I have presented him in
these pages he had come over to Maryland, with a
party of Flemings, to gather for his old age that
harvest of wealth and ease which the common report
promised to all who set foot upon the golden shores
of the Indies—Maryland, in vulgar belief, being a

part of this land of wonders. The captain neither
stumbled upon a gold mine, nor picked up an Indian
princess with a dowry of diamonds; but he fared
scarce worse, in his own estimation, when he found
himself, in a pleasant sunny clime, invested with the
rank of captain of musqueteers, with a snug shelter
in the fort, a reasonably fair and punctual allowance
of pay—much better, than had been his lot under
former masters,—and a frank welcome at all times
into the mansion of the Lord Proprietary. Add to
these the delights more congenial to the training of
his past life, a few wet companions, namely, to help
him through an evening potation, and no despicable
choice of wines and other comforts at the Crow and
Archer, where the Captain with due alacrity became
a domesticated and privileged guest, and it may still
better be comprehended how little he was likely to
repine at his fortune.

His figure had, in youth, been evidently remarked
for strength and symmetry—but age and varied service,
combined with habits of irregular indulgence,
had communicated to it a bluff and corpulent dimension.
His port nevertheless was erect, and his step
as firm as in his days of lustihood. His eye still
sparkled with rays but little quenched by time, although
unseasonable vigils sometimes rendered it
bloodshotten. A thick neck and rosy complexion
betokened a hale constitution; and the ripple of a
deep and constantly welling humour, that played
upon his strongly marked features, expressed in characters
that could not be misread, that love of companionship

which had been, perhaps, the most
frequent shoal upon which his hopes in life had been
stranded. His crown was bald and encircled by a
fair supply of crisp, curly and silvery hair, whilst a
thick grey moustache gave a martial and veteran air
to his visnomy.

His dress served to set off his figure to the best
advantage. It consisted of the doublet and ruff,
short cloak and trunk hose, the parti-coloured stocking
and capacious boot proper to the old English
costume which, about the period of the Restoration,
began to give way to the cumbrous foppery of the
last century. This costume was still retained by
many in the province, and belonged to the military
equipment of the garrison of St. Mary's, where it
was fashioned of light green cloth garnished with
yellow lace.

Arrayed in this guise, Captain Dauntrees had some
excuse for a small share of vanity on the score of
having worn well up to a green old age; and it was
manifest that he sought to improve this impression by
the debonair freedom with which he wore a drab
beaver, with its broad flap looped up on one side,
leaving his ample brow bared to wind and weather.

This combination of the martinet and free companion
exhibited in the dress of the Captain, was a
pretty intelligible index to his character, which disclosed
a compound, not unfrequent in the civil wars
of that period, of the precisian and ruffler,—the cavalier
and economist. In the affairs of life,—a phrase
which, in regard to him, meant such matters principally

and before all others, as related to his own
comfort—he was worldly-wise, sagaciously provident,
as an old soldier, of whatever advantages his
condition might casually supply; in words, he was,
indifferently, according to the occasion, a moralist
or hot-brained reveller—sometimes affecting the
courtier along with the martialist, and mixing up the
saws of peaceful thrift with the patter of the campaigns.

As the occasions of my story may enable me to
illustrate some of these points in the character of the
worthy Captain, I will not forestall the opinion of my
readers, regarding him, by further remark,—preferring
that he should speak for himself, rather than
leave his merits to be certified by so unpractised an
adept, as I confess myself to be, in unriddling the
secret properties of a person so deserving to be
known.