40. CHAPTER XL.
HOW HIS EXCELLENCY ASKED THE NAME OF THE STRANGER.
The two men soon found themselves again upon the portico
of the capitol.
The crowd, if any thing, had increased, and now seemed
to have exchanged its silence and gloom for indignation and
uproar.
The great waves rolled, and muttered, and dashed themselves
about with somber menace, and at times the long procession,
so to speak, lining the whole of Gloucester street,
writhed to and fro, resembling, in the brilliant sunshine, a
great serpent with glittering scales, his body agitated and
lustrous as that of the cobra or the rattlesnake, when about
to raise his crest and strike with his fangs.
This threatening air was obvious at once, and the stranger
surveyed the huge mass of heads with a species of gloomy
satisfaction.
“Good, good!” he said, in his deep voice, “the breath
of the storm sweeps toward us, the surface begins to
foam!”
“The people?” said St. John.
“Yes, look! Do you see this great crowd—this crowd,
made up of gray beards and children, of matrons and maidens,
of high and low, rich and poor? Well, friend, I see in their
faces the result of our labors, our toils, our long waiting!
They rise, they tremble! the billows begin to boil! you may
see the `white horses,' as the poets say; wait! You will
see the tenth wave before long!”
As the stranger spoke, his brilliant and fiery eye embraced
the whole spectacle, and his body bent forward like that of
the hunter, when he finds himself in the presence of the lion
at bay.
“You say, the `tenth wave,' ” said St. John, gazing on the
stranger's pale countenance with its sparkling eyes.
“Yes, the wave that will strike and overwhelm!”
“Heaven grant it!”
“That is the prayer of thousands night and morning—
that this insolent armed tyranny may be swept from the
earth!”
“Ah! armed! you refer to the guards?”
“Yes, look at them!”
“They almost trample on the crowd. To think that I
was once commander of these men!”
“You are free again, and see what you have gained!”
At this moment the agitation of the crowd grew even
greater, and the guards of his Excellency were hemmed in
on every side by the waves, from which issued threatening
murmurs.
From their elevated position the two men had a full view
of the scene, and especially of Mr. Lindon, whose tall form,
on his large horse, rose above the press.
Lindon's countenance wore a mingled expression of fear
and defiance, of anxiety and supercilious disdain.
He seemed to regard the crowd with the impatience and
scorn of a nobleman, in presence of a rebellious
canaille, but
a
canaille which it was good policy not to arouse.
His horse, however, was restive, and the heavy spurs
which his rider unconsciously dug into his sides at times, excited
him more and more. The result of the last application
of the sharp rowels, was a furious bound of the animal, and
an old man, with hoary head and beard, was struck heavily
and fell.
In an instant the crowd was driven to frenzy, and with
furious countenances, they were about to throw themselves
upon the troops, when a loud noise from the portico attracted
every one's attention.
It was his Excellency, who had adjourned the council
and now descended to his carriage.
“What is the meaning of this uproar?” he said, sternly;
“are my people being attacked by these insurgents?”
“Yes, my lord,” cried Lindon, “the masses here are in
commotion!”
And he struck at the hand of a tall fellow who caught at
his bridle.
The Governor saw the threat of the man, and his face
grew pale.
“If they attack you, charge and disperse them!” he said,
pale and fearful amid all his anger.
Lindon hesitated.
The furious faces and menacing arms intimidated the
worthy commander.
“I say charge them!” cried the Governor.
The words were distinctly heard by the crowd, and a howl
of rage was the reply.
The women and children were hastily hurried to the rear,
the men with strong arms appeared all at once in front, in
an immovable phalanx, and the hands of these men, whose
faces were pale and determined, were inserted into the
pockets of their doublets, grasping concealed arms there.
In a moment a sanguinary contest would have ensued,
and the streets flowed with blood.
But a more commanding voice than that of his Excellency
rung above the heads of the crowd, and drew all eyes to
the speaker.
It was the voice of the stranger, and it resounded like the
blast of a trumpet above the roar of shouts and menaces.
The words which he uttered were brief, fiery, and to the
point. He counseled moderation—the moment had not
come. The men before them were a handfull only, which a
breath would scatter, but no advantage would be gained by
dispersing them.
“Let them pass!” he said in his sonorous voice, which
rang above the menacing multitude like a clarion; “the hour
has not struck! Wait! it comes!”
“And you, my lord,” added the stranger, advancing with
his head raised proudly erect toward Dunmore, “do not lash
this people into madness! 'T is sound counsel! Return to
your palace before it is too late, sir! In ten minutes your
path will be barred by the crowd, and at a word the streets
of the capital will flow with blood! I give you good advice,
and advise you to profit by it. Return, I say, while you
have time!”
The Governor trembled with rage, and glared at the
speaker for an instant without speaking.
“And who are you, sir?” he said, with an explosion;
“who are you that give advice to a peer of the realm, and
the representative of his Majesty?”
“A man of the people only, my lord.”
“Your name, sir! I desire to remember it!”
A cloud passed over the stranger's brow, and his eyes
flashed.
“It is a name that is not pleasant to your lordship!” he
said, haughtily, “a circumstance which I do not regret!”
“Your name, sir!”
“Waters!” replied the stranger, returning the Governor's
from with a glance of fire which showed to what depths
his nature was moved. “Waters is my name, and I am the
father of the child whom your lordship, with a coarseness
and cruelty only worthy of a peer of the realm, outraged
and wounded in your palace! I scorn to conceal any thing!
If your lordship presumes to order my arrest, I will arouse
that crowd to tear you and your escort to pieces!”
Carried away for the moment by rage and scorn, the
speaker advanced another step toward the Governor, and
confronted him with a look of such decision and fire, that
Dunmore's cheek grew pale, and his lips vainly endeavored
to shape an answer.
“Your lordship will doubtless have all your hounds on
my track to-morrow!” said the stranger, “but I will defend
myself now and at all times! If you arrest me, it will be my
dead body!”
The Governor had not time to utter a word in reply to
this speech, before the portico suddenly filled with the members
of the House of Burgesses.
At sight of them the crowd uttered a shout, or rather a
roar, indicating a perfect knowledge of their ignominious
dismissal.
The menacing waves rushed again toward the troop,
and the six horses, drawing the chariot of his Excellency,
tossed their heads and moved about in their harnesses with
fright.
“My lord,” said the speaker of the Burgesses, “permit
me to respectfully suggest your return to the palace. The
people assembled here evidently construe your dissolution
of the Burgesses into an insult and outrage, and we can not
be responsible for the consequences of the further presence
of the troops!”
Dunmore, boiling with rage, and pale with fear, surveyed,
alternately, the Burgesses and the roaring crowd.
The people were more completely aroused than ever; Lindon's
eyes turned, from moment to moment, uneasily toward
the Governor.
“My lord!” said the speaker, “in the name of Heaven,
either return or dismiss your troops! In ten minutes blood
will flow!”
Dunmore, with a convulsion of wrath, but a step wavering
and undecided, half descended the flight of steps.
“Go on, my lord,” said the speaker, “we will attend you
and restrain any commotion of the inhabitants. I beseech
your lordship to proceed!”
Lord Dunmore half turned, with a countenance red and
pale with rapid changing expressions, and for an instant his
wrathful glance rested upon the face of the stranger.
He ground his teeth audibly, and shaking his glove toward
his enemy, turned and descended the steps.
The members of the Burgesses surrounded him, and mixing
with the crowd, spoke earnestly and reproachfully to
them.
The justice of these representations seemed to be acknowledged,
and the sea of heads flowed backward toward the
houses on each side of the way, leaving an open space,
through which the troops, headed by Lindon and the chariot
containing the Governor, rapidly advanced towards the palace.
The Burgesses continued to escort it until it disappeared
at the turn of the street, and then they mixed with the
crowd, in whose tumultuous and agitated waves they were
swallowed up and lost.
