University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.

“I say it again, Captain Harrison—fortunate is it
for mankind, fortunate and thrice happy—Mr. Matthews
you will be pleased to respond to the sentiment—thrice
fortunate, I say, is it for mankind—Richard Grimstead,
this idea is one highly important to your class, and you
will give it every attention—thrice fortunate for mankind
that there are some spirits in the world, some
noble spirits, whom no fear, no danger, not even the
dread of death, can discourage or deter in their labours
for the good of the people. Who nobly array themselves
against injustice, who lift up the banners of
truth, and, filled to overflowing with the love of their
fellows, who yield up nothing of man's right to exaction
and tyranny, but, shouting their defiance to the
last, fear not to embrace the stake of martyrdom in the
perpetuation of an immortal principle. Yes, captain—
what,—will you not hear?—Mr. Matthews, venerable
sir—Master Grayson, Master Walter Grayson, I say—
and you, Richard Grimstead—will nobody hear?—thus
it is,—the blind and insensible mass!—they take the
safety and the service, but forget the benefactor. It is
enough to make the patriot renounce his nature, and
leave them to their fate.”

“You had better go now, doctor, and see poor Murray,
instead of standing here making speeches about
nothing. Talk of the good of the people, indeed, and
leave the sick man without physic till this time of day.”

“You are right in that, Master Grayson, though
scarcely respectful. It concerns the popular welfare,
certainly, that men should not fall victims to disease;

but you must understand, Master Grayson, that even
to this broad and general principle, there are some obvious
exceptions. One may and must, now and then,
be sacrificed for the good of many—though to confess
a truth, this can scarcely be an admitted principle, if
such a sacrifice may tend in any way to affect the paramount
question of the soul's immortal peace or pain.
I have strong doubts whether a man should be hung at
all. For, if it happen that he be a bad man, to hang
him is to precipitate him into that awful abiding place,
to which each successive generation has contributed a
new assortment of dooms and demons; and if he should
have seen the error of his ways, and repented, he
ceases to be a bad man, and should not be hung at all.
But, poor Murray, as you remind me, ought to be
physicked—these cursed fevers hang on a man, as that
sooty-lipped fellow Grimstead says, in a speech, uncouth
as himself, like `death to a dead negro.' The
only God to be worshipped in this region, take my
word for it, Master Grayson, is that heathen god, Mercury.
He is the true friend of the people, and as such
I worship him. Captain Harrison—the man is deaf.—
Ah, Mr. Matthews—deaf, too! Farewell, Master
Grayson, or do you ride towards Gibbons'? He turns
a deaf ear also. Human nature—human nature! I
do hate to ride by myself.”

And with these words, in obvious dissatisfaction—for
Doctor Constantine Maximilian Nichols stood alone—
he left the house and moved off to the wood where his
little tacky stood in waiting. By this time the foresters
generally had also left the old pastor's cottage.
Giving them instructions to meet him at the Block
House, Harrison alone lingered behind with the old
Puritan, to whom the preceding events had somehow
or other been productive of much sore disquietude.
He had shown his disapprobation at various stages of
their occurrence; and even now, when the restoration
of Hector, more than ever, showed the propriety, or
policy at least, of the course which had been pursued,
the old man seemed still to maintain a decided hostility

to the steps which Harrison had taken for the
recovery of his property. Having once determined
against the individual himself, the pastor was one of
those dogged and self-satisfied persons who can never
bring themselves to the dismissal of a prejudice; who
never permit themselves to approve of any thing done
by the obnoxious person, and who studiously seek, in
reference to him, every possible occasion for discontent
and censure. In such a mood he addressed Harrison
when the rest had departed:—

“This violence, Master Harrison,” said he, “might
do in a condition of war and civil commotion; but while
there are laws for the protection of the people and for
the punishment of the aggressor, the resort to measures
like that which I have this day witnessed, I hold to be
highly indecorous and criminal.”

“Mr. Matthews, you talk of laws, as if that pirate
fellow could be brought to justice by a sheriff.”

“And why should he not, Master Harrison?”

“My good sir, for the very best reason in the world,
if you will but open your eyes, and take off some few
of the scales which you delight to wear. Because,
in that vessel, carrying guns and men enough to serve
them, he could safely bid defiance to all the sheriffs
you could muster. Let the wind but serve, and he
could be off, carrying you along with him if he so
thought proper, and at this moment nothing we could
do could stop him. There is no defending Port Royal,
and that is its misfortune. You must always call the
force from Charlestown which could do so, and at this
time there is not a single armed vessel in that port.
No sir—nothing but manœuvering now for that fellow,
and we must manage still more adroitly before we get
our own terms out of him.”

“Why sir—where's the battery at Port Royal?”

“Pshaw, Mr. Matthews—a mere fly in the face of
the wind. The battery at Port Royal, indeed, which
the Spaniards have twice already taken at noonday,
and which they would have tumbled into nothing, but
for Captain Godfrey and myself, as you should remember,

for your own chance and that of your family were
narrow enough. A good wind, sir, would carry this
Blifustier beyond the fort before three guns could be
brought to bear upon her.”

“Well, Master Harrison, even if this be the case, I
should rather the guilty should escape than that self-constituted
judges should take into their own hands the
administration of justice and the law.”

“Indeed, Master Pastor, but you are too merciful by
half; and Hector, if he heard you now, would have
few thanks for a charity, which would pack him off to
the Cuba plantations for the benefit of your bully-boy
acquaintance. No, no. I shall always hold and recover
my property by the strong arm, when other
means are wanting.”

“And pray, sir, what security have the people, that
you, unknown to them as you are, may not employ the
same arm to do them injustice, while proposing justice
for yourself?”

“That is what Nichols would call the popular argument,
and for which he would give you thanks, while
using it against you. But, in truth, this is the coil,
and amounts to neither more nor less than this, that all
power is subject to abuse. I do not contend for the
regular practice of that which I only employ in a last
necessity. But, of this enough,—I am in no mood for
hair splitting and arguing about trifling irregularities,
when the chance is that there are far more serious
difficulties before us. Hear me, then, Mr. Matthews,
on a subject more important to yourself. You are
here, residing on the borders of a savage nation, with
an interest scarcely worth your consideration, and certainly
no engrossing object. Your purpose is the good
of those around you, and with that object you suffer
privations here, to which your family are not much
accustomed. I have an interest in your welfare,
and—”

The lips of the pastor curled contemptuously into a
smile. Harrison proceeded:

“I understand that expression, sir; and, contenting

myself with referring you for a commentary upon it to
the sacred profession of your pursuit, I freely forgive
it.” The pastor's cheek grew crimson, while the
other continued:—

“You are here, sir, as I have said, upon the Indian
borders. There is little real affinity between you.
The entire white population thus situated, and stretching
for thirty miles towards the coast in this direction,
does not exceed nine hundred, men, women, and children.
You live remotely from each other—there is
but little concert between you, and, bating an occasional
musket, or sword, the hatchet and the knife are
the only weapons which your houses generally furnish.
The Indians are fretful and becoming insolent—”

“Let me interrupt you, Master Harrison. I believe
not that; and so far as my experience goes, the Yemassees
were never more peaceable than at this moment.”

“Pardon me, sir, if I say, you know little of the Indians,
and are quite too guileless yourself to comprehend
the least portion of their deceitful character.
Are you aware, sir, of the insurrection which took
place in Pocota-lígo last night?”

“I am not—what insurrection?”

“The chiefs, deposed by the people, and by this
time probably destroyed for selling their lands yesterday
to the commissioners.”

“Ah! I could have said the why and the wherefore,
without your speech. This but proves, Captain
Harrison, that we may, if we please, provoke them by
our persecutions into insurrections. Why do we thus
seek to rob them of their lands—when, oh! Father of
mercies, when shall there be but one flock of all
classes and colours, all tribes and nations, of thy people,
and thy blessed Son, our Saviour, the good and
guiding shepherd thereof?”

“The prayer is a just one, and the blessing desirable;
but, while I concur with your sentiment, I am not
willing to agree with you that our desire to procure
their lands is at all inconsistent with the prayer. Until

they shall adopt our pursuits, or we theirs, we can
never form the one community for which your prayer
is sent up; and so long as the hunting lands are abundant,
the seductions of that mode of life will always
baffle the approach of civilization among the Indians.
But this is not the matter between us now. Your
smile of contempt, just now, when I spoke of my regard
for your family, does not discourage me from repeating
the profession. I esteem your family, and a
yet stronger sentiment attaches me to one of its members.
Feeling thus towards you and it, and convinced,
as I am, that there is danger at hand from the Indians,
I entreat that you will remove at once into a close
neighbourhood with our people. Go to Port Royal,
where the means of escape are greater to Charlestown,—or,
why not go to Charlestown itself?”

“And see your family,” coolly spoke the pastor.

“It will be yours before long, and you will probably
then know them,” said the other with equal coolness.
“But let not this matter affect the conviction in your
mind, which is strong in mine. There is a near danger
to be apprehended from the Indians.”

“I apprehend none, Captain Harrison. The Indians
have always borne themselves peaceably towards
me and towards all the settlers—towards all who have
carried them the words of peace. To me they have
been more. They have listened patiently to my teachings,
and the eyes of some of them, under the blessed influence
of the Saviour, have been opened to the light.”

“Be not deceived, Mr. Matthews. The Indian upon
whom you would most rely, would be the very first
to carry your scalp as a choice trimming for his mocquasin.
Be advised, sir—I know more of this people
than yourself. I know what they are when excited
and aroused—deception with them is the legitimate
morality of a true warrior. Nor will they, when once
at war, discriminate between the good neighbour, like
yourself, and the wild borderer who encroaches upon
their hunting grounds and carries off their spoil.”

“I fear not, sir—I know all the chiefs, and feel just

as secure here, guarded by the watchful Providence,
as I possibly could do, in the crowded city, fenced in
by mightiest walls.”

“This confidence is rashness, sir, since it rejects a
precaution which can do no harm, and offers but little
inconvenience. Where is the necessity for your remaining
here, where there is so little to attract, and
so few ties to bind? Leave the spot, sir, at least until
the storm is over-blown which I now see impending.”

“You are prophetic, Master Harrison, but as I see
no storm impending, you will suffer me to remain.
You seem also to forget that in remaining in this region,
which you say has few ties for me and mine, I
am complying with a solemn duty, undertaken in cool
deliberation, and which I would not, if I could, avoid.
I am here, as you know, the agent of a noble Christian
charity of England, as a missionary to the heathen.”

“And nothing inconsistent with your duty to leave
the spot for a season, in which, in the event of a war,
you could pursue no such mission. Leave it for a
season, only.”

“Master Harrison, once for all, permit me to choose
for myself, not only where to live, but who shall be
my adviser and companion. I owe you thanks for
your professed interest in me and mine; but it seems
to me there is but little delicacy in thus giving us your
presence, when my thoughts on the subject of my daughter
and your claim, have been so clearly expressed.
The violence of your course to-day, sir, let me add, is
enough to strengthen my previous determination on
that subject.”

“Your determination, Mr. Matthews, seems fixed,
indeed, to be wrong-headed and obstinate. You have
dwelt greatly upon my violence to this sea-bear; yet,
or I greatly mistake my man, you will come to wish it
had been greater. But ask your own good sense
whether that violence exceeded in degree the amount
necessary to secure the restoration of my slave? I
did only what I thought essential to that end, though
something provoked to more. But this aside—if you

will not hear counsel, and determine to remain in this
place, at least let me implore you to observe every
precaution, and be ready to resort to the Block House
with the first alarm. Be ready in your defence, and
keep a careful watch. Let your nightbolts be well
shot. I too, sir, will be something watchful for you.
I cannot think of letting you sacrifice, by your ill-judged
obstinacy, one, dear enough to me, at least, to
make me bear with the discourtesies which come with
such an ill grace from her sire.”

Thus speaking, Harrison left the cottage abruptly,
leaving the old gentleman, standing, somewhat dissatisfied
with his own conduct, in the middle of the
floor.