University of Virginia Library

28. CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE DESPATCH.

By the dawn of the next day, Calvert was safely sheltered
within the close chamber in the dwelling of Governor Quarry.
It was too late that night to disturb the household of Mrs. Perkins
Anderson, and agitate the repose of a wife so little nervous
as the fair Zulieme. It was enough to find a welcome from the
accommodating Governor Quarry, to whom, without committing
himself in any way, or revealing his own personal purposes and
objects, Calvert made known all his apprehensions of the hostile
intentions of the red men.

“Really, my dear captain,” said the governor, “you are growing
nervous. I do not suppose that the Indians have any good
feeling toward us — far from it; but I have myself had no evidence
which might confirm your statement. So far as I can hear,
they are uniformly pacific; have been quietly getting their maize
and peas into the ground; and working as usual (precious small
is the degree of work, I grant you) upon their little planting-tracts.
Upon what do you found your opinions?”

“I have given you no opinions, Governor Quarry. I assert
positively that the red men are preparing for mischief. I state a
fact which I will not argue.”

“But your facts must be founded upon something; you have
evidence for this assertion?”

“Surely, but it is of a sort which I am not prepared to impart.
The revelation of my facts involves other interests.”

“But, unless I have some evidence — alleged proofs of the

facts, at least — upon which I can found the apprehension, how
should I alarm the council? how move them to agree upon the
organization of the rangers? Rangers are expensive luxuries,
captain, and the colony is a poor one.”

“Can you exercise no discretion as governor? — since, if you
are to wait upon the dilatory debates of a council, you are likely
to send your rangers out only to gather up the scalped heads of
your colonists.”

“Are you really serious?” asked the governor, now becoming
serious himself.

“Never more so in my life!”

“But, do tell me upon what you ground these suspicions?”

“That I can not well do. If your council be as ignorant of the
nature of the red men as Europeans generally are, what I hold to
be conclusive proofs would be to them wholly insignificant. If you
yourself can not act in the matter, I should despair of your council
doing anything in season. If your scattered colonists up the
two rivers, especially here to the south as far as the Savannah,
could only be advised by runners to be on the alert; your frontier
block-houses strengthened against surprise; patrols of good skill
in woodcraft sent out, especially in Berkeley and Colleton counties;
and all done without beat of drum, and with the utmost
secrecy — then you might hope to avert the danger, or meet it
successfully. But what is done should be done quickly. I doubt
if you will have more than three weeks for the work. Why
should you not assume the responsibility, keeping all the measures
secret for a while? It would redound wonderfully to your credit
after the event.”

“But most atrociously against my credit if the event should
never take place. It would fasten a debt upon the colony which
the council would never sanction. No, no, captain; unless you
give me what the scouts call `Indian sign,' and enough of it, I can
take no steps such as you propose.”

“Who keeps the block-house at Oldtown? Have you a garrison
there?”

“A single man only — an old sea-dog, trapper, hunter, all sorts
of a scout — named Gowdey.”

“Does he report nothing?”

“Nothing. I have hardly seen him for a month. He has

been to me twice or thrice during the last six weeks, but I left
him to my secretary. I was quite too busy myself to see him;
and the old trapper carries with him usually such a strong odor,
such an `ancient and fishlike smell,' that my nostrils resent his
presence as they would the precincts of a pest-house. My olfactories
keep him from my auditories.”

“You may be too nice for safety,” answered Calvert, gravely.
“Take my counsel, and see him, and hear what he has to say;
at least, seek all the information that you can from your scoutingparties;
and bring your council to frequent and early meetings as
soon as possible, and on any pretext. In the course of a few days,
I may be able to put such evidence before you as may even suffice
for their enlightenment.”

“My dear rover, the council are more likely to fancy danger
from a very different class of people than the red men. Do you
know that they have a most pernicious habit of treating of privateering
as if it were piracy! It is because of this lamentable perversity
of opinion that I have not sought them, or cared to see
them, since you have been in the precinct. They scarcely speak
of anything else; and it has been to me matter of real rejoicing
that Berkeley and Morton are busy with their several baronies,
and that Middleton has gone pioneering somewhere about the
Santee, so that I am temporarily relieved of their discussions as
to the proper mode of treating a certain notorious offender, whom
they familiarly style `the pirate Calvert.'”

“Take no heed of me, I pray you. I can put myself in safety
at any moment.”

“Are you quite sure of that? By my soul, but I am not! I
must take heed of you. Read that, and you will see that your
former agent, Master Job Sylvester, or Stillwater — still water,
you know, has a proverbial depth, if not darkness — is disposed
to look after you, since you will not look after him. He has not
only grown virtuous, but patriotically suspicious. He is busily so;
and assures me that he has good reasons for believing you to be
even now in town.”

“Indeed!” — and Calvert read the letter, only to lay it down
quietly.

“What! you despise its dangers? You treat with contempt
the virtuous citizen who tells me that, `having seen the errors of

his ways,' he is prepared `to make amends for his past errors,' by
bringing to the gallows his old associates! Do you not see that
he tells us in one sentence that he is moved by the fear of God
and the love of the law — or is it the love of God and the fear of
the law? — perhaps. But you see where he somewhat modestly
asks if there be not some five hundred pounds offered for the capture
of `this most nefarious sea-robber, Harry Calvert?' Oh! a
most precious rogue is Master Job Stillwater, but not the less a
good, virtuous citizen for all that. He is true to his eastern education,
which accomodates itself to God whenever the transaction
is profitable; and to the law, after he has made it sufficiently
malleable. I confess to you, I somehow fear this virtuous fellow.
He has latterly grown so good as not to be quite willing
that anybody should live by vice but himself. All such animals
have a rare instinct in finding where other foxes take cover. Beware
of him.”

“I shall!”

“But how have you offended him?”

“By withdrawing all trust from him. I sent Belcher to sound
him and others some time ago. You may remember the time, for
he had a communication for you.”

“Yes, and I warned him of your danger here.”

“Precisely. So did Franks. But the counsel of Sylvester
was bold and encouraging. He was particularly careful to give
a bad account of your excellency's courage and of Franks's honesty.
And Belcher found out that, withal, he had grown pious.
I so far resolved to respect his piety as to subject him to no more
temptations. Accordingly, he was suffered to know nothing of
my coming or presence.”

“Ay, but he knows something now; at all events, he suspects.
He is invited to confer with me in person, and to report the evidence
upon which his suspicions are based. I must, of course,
give him every encouragement; but shall not object, my dear
captain, if, in your own chamber, your ears should happen to be
keen enough to obtain any useful knowledge for yourself.”

Three hours later, this promise was realized. Sylvester — or,
as the governor persisted in calling him, Stillwater — was punctual
to his appointment, and Calvert was an unsuspected witness.

Stillwater was a person of many preliminaries, and somewhat
circuitous in his progress to an end. We shall abridge these to
our limits, confining him and ourselves as strictly as possible to
what is absolutely necessary to our narrative. He was careful to
confess his previous connection with the pirate, but that was only
while piracy was an innocent practice. The moment that God
and his majesty Charles II. had discovered its heinousness, from
that moment Stillwater felt a change of heart. But he felt that it
was not enough for him to shake the sin from his own skirts; it
was incumbent upon him to pursue to justice those who continued
to indulge in the crime: and when he learned that there was a
proclamation of his majesty which rated the offence so high as to
offer five hundred pounds for the capture of the chief offender in
these parts, he, with becoming virtue and loyalty, resolved to
merit his majesty's approval and reward. Accordingly, when
Jack Belcher, the emissary of the infamous pirate Calvert, came
to him some months ago, as had been his wont on previous occasions,
to make arrangements for the sale in Charleston of the
plunder which the pirate had made, he, Job Sylvester, with the
cunning of the serpent and the innocence of the dove, gave him
every encouragement to come, and bring his wares to the customary
market. And he, Sylvester, had laid his virtuous snares so
happily, that he felt cock-sure of making the pirate a captive, and
getting possession of the piratical vessel and all her crew and
cargo.

“But you never told me of this, Master Job!” quoth the governor.
The pious rogue had his answer:—

“The moment had n't come for it, your honor. I waited for the
time. The time has come at last; and you see me here, ready to
finish the good work.”

“Ah! you can lay hands, then, on this pirate and his vessel
now? He and she are here, do you say?”

“I 've got such evidence, your honor, as makes me certain.
The town 's full of new goods, which never came from England.
Franks is working in secret day and night. There 's Spanish fruit
fresh in the market, and we 've had no direct arrivals from Havana
or the West Indies for more than a month. Then, strange
sailors have been seen about town at night; and, what 's more,
there 's a strange woman staying at the house of Madam Perkins

Anderson, a Spanish woman — you 've heard of her, for she's a
famous figure to see; they call her the Señorita de Montano, and
all the young bucks are after her. But I 'm pretty sure she 's no
other than the mistress of this pirate Calvert.”

“Ha! what makes you sure of it?”

“I heard something about this woman before. He calls her
his wife. I got it from one of the sailors, long ago, that he 's married
to a Spaniard.”

“Perhaps she is really his wife, if connected with him at all.
Why should you suppose her his mistress?”

“Oh, your honor, it 's not charity to think that these pirate-captains
ever call in the church when they splice. They have n't
the virtue for that. They 're loose livers, and have a wife — of
that sort — in all the ports where they trade. But I got a hint
of the whole story more than a year ago, from one of the sailors
— he was a Spaniard himself, and knew all about it — who worked
aboard the Happy-go-Lucky. The woman 's his mistress, be sure,
and she 's here, and he, I reckon, is not far off. And the ship 's
somewhere about; though, this time, they have n't run her into
the place where they always took her before. But the goods that
fill the market, the fruit about town, the strange sailors that are
seen here by night, and this Spanish señorita — how should they
get here, when there 's been no arrivals from Havana and the
West Indies? They come in the Happy-go-Lucky, sir; and I 'll
have 'em all in a bag, if so be your honor will give me the needful
help when the time comes.”

“And what do you need, Master Job, for this patriotic service?”

“Well, your honor, I want a despatch express to New York, to
bring on the Southampton frigate, and the Scarborough, or any
other of the king's ships that are on that station; and, until that 's
done, I do n't want to make any stir, unless we can be so fortunate
as to bag the captain, when he 's off the vessel and skulking somewhere
about town. Once we can get his head into sack, we can
find out all about the vessel.”

“A most notable idea. You are decidedly right. You are an
old trapper, Master Stillwater, and the despatches shall be ready
for you when you please.”

“Right away! Now 's the time, your honor.”

“This very day, if you think proper! Can you procure me a
good express — a safe, hard-spurring fellow?”

“I 've just got such a man, your honor: Gideon Fairchild —
a good man — a brand, like myself, plucked from the burning, and
now a shining light in the meeting-house!”

“You know him thoroughly, Master Job?”

“Like the A, B, C! We learned our letters together in Connecticut.
He 's had his falls, your honor. He 's been a sinner,
even as I have been a sinner. But the Lord has been pleased to
send his holy grace to both of our wretched souls, and we are redeemed
by his mercy. Gideon Fairchild won't let the grass
grow to his horse's feet; and he 's been the route many times
before, when he went on no such virtuous business.”

“Let him be ready by three o'clock. The despatches shall be
prepared for him to the governor of New York. Is there anything
more that should be done now?”

“Not — just — yet, your honor! Might I ask your honor
if the reward says `dead or alive,' in the case of this pirate-captain?”

“Alive! alive! We want him for an example, Master Stillwater.
Remember that!”

“It might be much easier to kill him than to take him,” said
the pious convert. “He 's quick to fight, and mighty heavy-handed.”

“Oh, do n't be so bloody in your piety! at least, do n't defraud
the gallows of its prey.”

“And — your honor — what 's the reward for the capture of the
pirate-ship?”

“Salvage on the cargo, Master Job, is, I take it, the law on
that subject. For the rest, leave it to the generous bounty of his
majesty's counsellors, to determine the proper reward for those
who shall render him so great a service as the capture of this formidable
pirate.”

“And there will be salvage, your honor, on the ship, as well
as the cargo?”

“Why, Master Job, your loyalty takes a very voracious aspect!
But, even here, you will not be disappointed. You will have
your reward. But such a vessel, with such heels as the Happy-go-Lucky,

is more than likely to take her place, once in our possession,
among his majesty's own cruisers.”

“And she 'll do credit to the service, your honor. She 's got
the heels of them all. I 'm humbly thankful, your honor. Gideon
Fairchild will be in readiness, punctual, at three o'clock.
It is a long ride, but Gideon will find a spur in his loyalty
and conscience, your honor; and I can answer for it that no
despatch ever sent before, ever reached so soon as that he
carries.”

“If it ever reaches!” was the unuttered thought of his amiable
excellency, who had his own reasons for doubting the success of
Gideon's mission.

“Well,” said he to Calvert, when Sylvester was gone, “you see
where you are. What will you do?”

“Can your excellency have a short missive conveyed from me
to Franks within the next half-hour?”

“To be sure. Of course, it is your own private affair, and under
seal.”

“Surely. Even the messenger need n't know you are in the
business.”

And Calvert scrawled a few lines in a billet, which he sealed
and put into the governor's hands.

“It is possible,” said Calvert, rising, “that Jack Belcher is
somewhere waiting. I fancy I heard his whistle from yonder
orange-shrubbery. If your excellency will suffer me, I will answer.”

The governor nodded; and Calvert, applying a silver whistle
to his mouth, sounded three mots, and then a fourth, after a pause.
The governor walked out of the chamber to the lower story and
the back-door of the house, taking the billet with him. He returned
without it.

The despatches were ready at three o'clock. The governor
read them to Master Job Sylvester. They were very emphatic,
and particularly urgent. Nothing could be more emphatic, or
more satisfactory to our patriotic citizen; and, at half-past three,
Gideon was on the road!

At half-past six, he was knocked from his horse by sundry uncivil
persons, who took from him money and despatches. He
was fastened again upon the horse, his legs tied together beneath

the belly of the animal, his hands behind him, and his mouth
muzzled!

It was midnight before he was suffered to alight: then, lifted
tenderly enough from the beast, he found himself hoisted, with
equal tenderness, into a boat, and transferred to the deck of the
Happy-go-Lucky, in the hold of which we must keep him for a
season, cooling his heels and temper together, in a somewhat
uncomfortable position.