University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

Sherwood, the person we introduced in the last
chapter, and left a prisoner in the hands of the
Green Mountain Boys, a fair candidate for the honors
of the Beech-seal, or some other of the novel
and ingenious modes of punishment, which the settlers
were accustomed to inflict on their foes with
equal promptitude, whether they were foreign or domestic,
was a resident of New Haven, in the vicinity
of the lower falls of Otter Creek, then embraced
within the limits of that town, but now forming the
site of Vergennes, the only incorporated city of Vermont.
He had here located himself, ostensively to
become a permanent settler—to share the fortunes
and identify himself with the interests of the New
Hampshire grantees; while in fact he was a secret
agent of a company of New York land-jobbers, in
their pay, and himself engaged, at the same time,
in speculating in the patents issued by the governor
of the last named province. Through the influence
of his father, a man of reputed wealth, living near
Albany, he had been taken into the employment of
this company. And they, soon finding him a person
well fitted for their purposes, induced him, by
opening to his avaricious mind the prospect of
making a fortune out of the poor settlers of the New
Hampshire Grants, in addition to the stated salary

to be allowed him, to take a secret agency, and locate
himself in some part of the settlement where
he would most effectually subserve their interests.—
In pursuance of this object it had been agreed that
he should first proceed to New Hampshire, and, taking
out a patent from that source, should enter
Vermont known only as a grantee of that province,
in order that he might thus be effectually secured
from the hostility of the settlers, and enabled to
maintain with them a free and unsuspected intercourse,
which, at the present juncture, could alone
insure him any success or safety. This had been
accordingly done something more than a year previous
to the events of our tale. A single lot of
land had been purchased and located by him near
the Otter, in the manner agreed on by the company.
And so speciously had this wily agent conducted,
beginning and carying on improvements just sufficient
to save appearances, while mainly pursuing
the objects of his residence in the settlement, that
till now he had passed wholly unsuspected of being
in the York interest, except in the slight question
that had been raised concerning his true character,
on account of his having been recognized by some
settlers from the south part of the grants, as before
intimated, while on one of his secret journeys to
Albany. With these remarks, which will apprise
the reader with all that may at present be necessary
to be known respecting the previous character
and employment of this personage, we will return
to the thread of our narrative.

Brightly rose the waning moon over the eastern
mountains, which cast their broad, wood-fringed
shadows far into the lake, while a flood of silvery
light, falling on the sleeping waters and towering

forest beyond, was gradually unfolding the bold and
magnificent outlines of this wilderness landscape,
as our victorious band of Green Mountain Boys
merrily sped their way to the western shore.

`What a glorious spectacle!' exclaimed Selden,
looking abroad over the scene, as the boat emerged
from the dark gloomy line of the mountain shadows
into the bright and cheerful tract of illumined waters,
that now met them on their course.

`Splendid! splendid, indeed!' responded Warrington,
with equal enthusiasm; `such scenes, one
would think, were enough to enamor the whole
world of a sylvan life.'

`And yet,' observed Selden, `those city smoked
exquisites, who claim all the taste and refinement
of the country, are horrified at the thought of the
life we here lead in the Green Mountains.'

`I dont think the creturs are so much to be
blamed for that,' said Pete Jones; `for bringing
them here I calculate would be putting them pretty
nearly in the plight of frogs that are dug from the
bottom of a well—always sure to shiver and die the
minute they are brought to the pure air.'

`If all this be so,' rejoined Warrington, significantly
glancing at the dress and comparatively delicate
appearance of the prisoner; `I hope that such
of this class, as are connected with a certain city to
the west of us, will be less inclined to favor our settlement
with their presence hereafter. Let them
stick to their mode of life and its luxuries, and we
will to our mountains. But I am reminded, Lieutenant,'
he continued, turning gaily to Selden, `of
the possibility of our being favored with something
on this subject in a more agreeable form, if I rightly
divined the nature of your employment, and the

rheme that occupied your mind there at the fire before
the cave last evening, after the rest of us had
retired to our stone couches for the night. Can
you oblige us with the fruits of your vigil, in the
shape of a song?'

`O, yes, such as it is—that is, if my music will
not jar upon the feelings of our friend in durance
here, and you are all willing to risk the same effect
on yourselves,' jocosely replied the other, as he pulled
from his pocket a small roll of white birch bark,
(the soft, smooth inner surface of which he had
made, as was in those times not unfrequently the
case, his papyrus in noting down his hasty effusion,)
and turning to the moonlight, commenced:

As the clear, melodious voice of the singer, floating
free and wide over the hushed waters of the
lake, died away in the distance, and while the
shouts of applause, which greeted him at the close
of his performance, (intended as was supposed, to
hit off the York gentry, and the last couplet to apply
to the prisoner in particular,) were yet echoing
around, the boat of the elated Green Mountain
Boys reached its destined landing. And immediately
disembarking with their prisoner, they proceeded
to a rude, bark-covered shantee, built by
former visitors to the lake, and standing amidst a
group of large evergreens a few rods from the water.
There, after striking a light and kindling up a
cheerful fire, they promptly set about the business
of deciding upon the case of the supposed traitor.
For this purpose they formally resolved themselves,
as was usual in such cases where a resort could not
readily be had to a committee of safety, into a sort
of tribunal, very nearly resembling, we suppose, a
modern Lynch court, a form of dispensing justice
which, if ever justifiable, was undoubtedly so in the
acts of our early settlers in resisting that system of
legalized plunder attempted to be enforced on them
by their oppressors. And if the right of defending
their homes and possessions from unwarrantable
seizures be conceded them, it was certainly not only
justifiable but honorable in them to resort, as they
did, to such measures as they judged most effectual
in shielding from arrest and threatened punishment
those of their fellow settlers, who, by their patriotism
in the common cause, had rendered themselves
obnoxious to the arbitrary enactments of the usurping
government. For soon after the settlers had begun
openly to resist the authorities of New York in

attempting to dispossess them, a law, more despotic
perhaps than any to be found in the annals of legislation,
had been enacted by the assembly of that
province requiring some six or eight of the settlers,
who had been most conspicuous in the controversy,
to surrender themselves, on the order of the executive,
within seventy days, to a magistrate for imprisonment,
and in case of neglect to be adjudged convicted,
and, without hearing or trial, condemned to
suffer death. And not delivering themselves up, as
might well be expected, the governor issued his
proclamation proscribing them as felons, and offering
large rewards for their apprehension, which,
while it led to many secretly laid plots, and several
open, though fruitless attempts to seize them by the
Yorkers, in concert with a few traitorous settlers,
served only to endear them to an indignant and
aroused people, who publicly resolved to protect at
every hazard their proscribed leaders, and, at the
same time, prepare to defend the general interest
of the settlement even at the price of their
lives. Of this goodly company of outlaws, embracing
some of the first and most talented men of the
Grants, two, as before intimated, were among the
band whom we have introduced to the reader, and
to whom we will now return.

Pete Jones, the principal witness in the case now
to be decided, being called on for his testimony, related
at large, and in his own vein of peculiar drollery,
what he knew of the previous life and character
of the person who, it appeared, had been frequently
absent from home, though his excursions
were generally undertaken under the profesed character
of a sportsman, for the employments of which
he pretended a great liking, but for what reason nobody

could imagine, as it never could be ascertained
that he was ever successful. It also appeared that
he had been loud in his denunciations against the
Yorkers, and, as far as words could go, a great stickler
for the rights of the settlers. The witness then
related all the particulars of his detecting and capturing
the prisoner. After this, the accused was requested
to make his defence; when, to the surprise
of all, he wholly denied any hostile intention, or any
willing participation in the recent attempt of Munroe
to surprise and seize the present party at the
cave, deliberately stating, that while hunting in the
woods near the creek that afternoon, he was met,
made prisoner by the Yorkers, and compelled to accompany
them on their expedition, the object of
which they did not reveal to him. And in confirmation
of the truth of his statements and of his asserted
inocence, he cited the general character he
had always sustained as a friend of the settlers.

`Do you generally manifest your friendship for
the settlers by firing pistols at their heads, sir?'
asked Warrington, casting a look of withering contempt
on the prisoner.

`O, I was trying to escape,' replied Sherwood,
who had his ready answer to a question he had anticipated;
`I was on the point of escaping, and discharged
my pistol at this man, who beset me, to
prevent being retaken, supposing him all the while
to be one of the Yorkers.'

`Whew!' uttered Jones with a whistle, prolonged
into an exclamation; `now, honestly, friend, I must
crave leave to tell you—but that would'nt be manners,
and so I wont—though I should really like to
ask you, if there was any one Yorker there to-night
that a fellow of my short stature—only six foot

eleven, in shirt flaps—could be taken for with any
sort of conscience?'

`Yes, in the dark.'

`But you may remember, possibly, friend, that
you had to raise your pistol considerably higher
than your head to get aim at mine, which you seemed
to fancy shooting at in preference. Besides that,
we took what I call a fair measure of lengths on
the ground in the bit of grapple we had afterwards
—now most folks that I am acquainted with can
feel in the dark, if they can't see.'

`O, I was so confused and frightened, that I noticed
none of these circumstances, but really supposed
it was one of the Yorkers till you had got
with me nearly to the boat.'

`Well, now,' exclaimed Pete, dropping his head
in affected chagrin; `I vow to Jeremiah, I never
felt so mortified in my life! To be taken for a
Yorker! only think of that!'

`A sad mistake, truly,' observed Selden, addressing
his companions, while in a side glance he kept
an eye keenly fixed on the prisoner; `but still it
was scarcely a more singular one than I made as we
struck a light just now, when, turning to look at
this man, I could have sworn he was the identical
fellow we detected skulking about the shore yesterday—the
make, motion and dress of the two being
so very similar.'

`That's false!' hastily exclaimed Sherwood, completely
thrown off his guard by the round about
way, and designedly incorrect statement of the other,
made for the purpose of seeing its effect on the
prisoner; `that's false, for this was not the dress I
wore yest'—and he stopped short in visible confusion
at the thought of the admission he was inadvertently

making; while meaning and triumphant
glances were exchanged among the company. Soon
recovering in some degree his self possession, however,
and seeing how he had been entrapped, he attempted
to mend the matter by explaining that he
was about to say that this was not the dress he wore
yesterday, even had he been here, instead of a dozen
miles off, as he was, and could prove, as well as
his innocence of all the charges brought against
him, if time were but allowed him for the purpose.
And this, or his acquittal, he continued for some
time to demand, becoming, however, every moment
less assured in his tone, and more abject in
his manner, as he stealthily glanced round and read
his doom in the countenances of his judges.

`Well, gentlemen,' said the leader, breaking the
brief interval of silence, which followed the last
somewhat broken and confused remarks of the accused;
`you have heard the evidence against the
prisoner, as well as his defence and avowals of innocence.
Will you offer your individual opinions
on the question of his guilt? And we will first
hear what you may have to offer on the subject,
Mr. Jones?'

`Why, I dont know exactly about the chap, Captain,'
said the latter, with a mischievous cocking of
one eye, while screwing up his mouth nearly to the
ear on the opposite side of his face; `he says he
is innocent of the traitor, and it is a poor story if
he do'nt know. But I have two other charges
against him, which I consider rather gravus. Firstly,
according to his own story, he suffered himself,
with that clean pair of legs of his, and the woods
open for a run, if he chose that, or with gun and
pistols if he chose to stand and fight—(now while

I think on't I wonder what become of his gun)—he
suffered himself, I say, to be taken by the Yorkers
in a way and manner which is a burning shame to
a Green Mountain Boy, if so be he is one as he
pretends. And secondly he missed his aim when
he levelled at my head, for which a professed hunter
like himself ought to be ridiculous. So I think,
considering, I shall vote to have him viewed.[1] '

`And you, Smith, what is your verdict?

`My opinion is,' answered the man now addresssed,
`that the fellow's plausible palaver is all nothing
but a made up mess to bamboozle us with—I
should like to know how the Yorkers knew how we
were here on the lake, or how they happened to
find the cave without his help. The fact is, he
brought them here to seize us, and was probably
calculating to see some of us swinging on a York
gallows within a week. My verdict, therefore, will
be pretty much such a one as the king gave Haman.'

`And what say you, Brown?'

`Guilty! guilty as a dog, and the liar knows it.'

`And lastly your opinion, Mr. Selden?'

`Briefly told—that the fellow's guilt is equalled
only by his effrontery. And yet, as this is his first
known offence, I would recommend a milder punishment
than the one which has been hinted at.'

`We are unanimous, then, in a verdict, gentlement,'
observed the chief, `if I understand your
various modes of expressing your opinions. And it
remains only to determine in what manner the prisoner
shall be punished for his offence. You are all,
including the prisoner himself, I presume, well

aware that, by a decree of our Convention, the only
source of law we feel ourselves bound to regard in
cases of this kind, the crime of aiding the enemy
to arrest one of our citizens, who may have happened
to fall under the ban of that despotic edict
by which they would terrify us into submission, is
made punishable with death. If this were to be inflicted,
however, on the prisoner, I should be inclined
to grant him a more formal trial, before a
regularly appointed committee of safety, and allow
him time for his defence, as he requests—not that I
have the least doubt of his guilt, for I believe him
to be the most precious compound of duplicity and
villany that I have seen in the settlement, but I
would grant it on the principle of allowing every
man the best means to establish his innocence
when his life is at stake. Yet, concurring with Mr.
Selden, I think we had better adopt one of the ordinary
modes of punishment, for which the evidence
is abundantly sufficient, administer it on the
spot, and dismiss him with the admonition it will
give. What this punishment shall be I will leave
to you to designate.'

`I should like to have the title of my farm confirmed,'
said Smith, `seeing the Yorkers still continue
to dispute it, and as the Beech Seal is a sort
of legal instrument to do it with, they say, I vote
that we apply it.'

`Just the thing for the double faced scoundrel, if
we have got to let him off so cheap,' bluntly remarked
Brown.

`My title to my head,' said Pete Jones; `seems
to be rather questioned, and as it is an article that
would be dreadful inconvenient for me to be without,
I motion that it be confirmed too.'

`So be it, then,' observed Selden; `I had, it is
true, thought of a ducking, that he might be enabled
to sympathise with his friends over the lake—I
also had thought of taking him up into the top of
one of these trees, and leaving him bound there for
the night; but neither of these punishments, probably,
would so nearly come up to the fellow's merits
as the beechen remedy. I will therefore agree to
its application.'

The prisoner's doom being thus unanimously settled,
preparations were immediately commenced for
carrying the sentence into effect. This was understood
to be, in the quaint phrase of the times, “a
chastisement with the twigs of the wilderness,” or the
usual number of stripes, forty, save one, faithfully
applied to the back of the offender with a green
beech rod, termed, as before mentioned, the Beech-seal.
Several rods, or shoots of that thus oddly consecrated
tree, were accordingly selected, cut and
carefully trimmed for the purpose. The prisoner
was, then, in despite of his alternate threats, and
promises of good behaviour in future, stripped of
his coat, and firmly bound to the body of a large
hemlock, with his face turned to the tree. Every
thing being now in readiness for the execution of
the sentence, the question arose who should be the
executioner. For this honor two rival candidates
now presented themselves—Brown and Pete Jones
—the former claiming it on the ground that no one
of the present company had received injuries that
so loudly demanded a personal reciprocation as his
own, and the latter, with the greatest apparent gravity,
contending that it was his peculiar right to do
the duty of punishing the fellow for the unpardonable
crime of missing his aim, since the shot was intended
for his own benefit.

The altercation, however, was settled by the interposition
of their leader, who good naturedly
awarded a division of the honors between them,
directing that the first twenty stripes should be applied
by Jones, while Brown should be allowed the
privilege of completing the task.

In accordance with this arrangement, the tall
woodsman now seized a rod of his own preparing,
of dimensions fearfully portentous to the back of
the trembling culprit, and giving it a furious flourish
in the air, he commenced, with a look of terrible
fierceness, the performance of his allotted task.
But malice and revenge formed no part of the character
of this jolly and good natured borderer. The
manner in which the blows were given, and the
comparatively slight effect they produced on their
victim, made it very evident, that, notwithstanding
all his assumed wrath and fury of countenance and
manner, his humanity, combined with a natural love
of sport, which had doubtless led him to solicit the
office, was about to govern him in its execution.

`Well, here is my respects to you, friend,' he
said, commencing and keeping up a sort of loose,
irregular discourse, and counting the blows in a parenthetical
tone, as, with mighty grins and flourishes,
he proceeded to apply the typical beech; `there
is my respects to you, (one,) miss your aim again,
you lubber, eh? (two,) I told you that you should'nt
disgrace the cloth for nothing, (three,) and then
(four,) those kicks, (five,) I thought at the time
(six,) that you was kicking against the pricks, (seven,
eight,) so here is two pricks to every kick, (eight,
nine,) scurvy business that of you, friend, (nine,
ten,) that kicking against the trees (eleven, twelve,)
you did'nt consider (seven—no, eleven,) what a

hurry I was in, (twelve, thirteen) and then again
that offering me money, zounds, sir! (thirteen, fourteen,)
I should like (fourteen) to know, sir'—

`There! there!' hastily exclaimed the prisoner,
who had not been so much hurt amidst all this parade
of cuts and flourishes as to prevent his taking
note of the true number of the stripes which had
been administered, and which the mischief loving
woodsman had wilfully miscounted; `hold—you
have already struck twenty—hold! I say.'

`You dont say so?' replied Jones with affected
surprise as he slowly lowered his uplifted arm; `why
I thought I said fourteen—only fourteen last!'

`I care not if you did, sir,' expostulated the prisoner,
now bold from the consciousness of having at
last a little truth on his side; `you miscounted on
purpose to prolong my torture—I appeal to the
company—you have gone your twenty, I tell you,
ruffian!'

`Have! well, friend, just as you say, not as I
care.'

So saying, the eccentric but kind hearted woodsman
hurled his rod into the lake, and, bounding off
into the woods, with the pretended object of procuring
some better rods for the use of his successor,
but in reality only to avoid the sight and sounds
which, from the determined character, and exasperated
feelings of the man, he rightly anticipated would
now follow, disappeared, with a finger thrust into
each ear, in a neighboring thicket.

The flagellation was now resumed. And never
was rod more effectually applied to the deserving
back of a miscreant spy or traitor than now by the
sinewey arm of Brown, doubly nerved as it was by
the keen sense he harbored of the injuries he had

already received from the hands of those with
whom the present victim of his pent vengeance
had been found leagued, to assist in dragging him to
a gallows, and thus completing, on his person, that
work of destruction which they had before commenced
on his property. With a pause at every
application of the rod, that no energy should be
lost or weakened by the exertion, slow and measured
fell the tremendous blows from his relentless
arm, till he had told out the full number assigned
him; while at every lash of the pliant and close
hugging instrument of torture, the writhing victim
sent forth a screech of agony that thrilled through
the forest for miles around him.

This painful task being performed—for painful it
was to most of the band, while the stern necessity
that required it was sincerely regretted by them all
—the prisoner was unbound, and with an earnest
but kind admonition from Warrington to profit by
the lesson he had received, set at liberty; when,
muttering many a bitter execration, and breathing
vows of deadliest revenge on his captors, he sullenly
departed from the camp, and soon disappeared
along the border of the lake in a northern direction.