University of Virginia Library

39. CHAPTER XXXIX.
COILS, CARES, AND CLUES.

Rapid motion, in the case of all persons of highly-sanguine
temperament, compels thought; that is to say, in the case of people
who have brains enough, at any time, for such exercise! The
mere temperament may be a motor to the reason; a stimulating
force, as steam to the engine; but it is not the faculty itself. Such
men as Harry Berkeley (or Calvert, for we must still continue to
know him by both names) think in action. There is a consentaneous
working of blood, and brain, and body, to a common end
and object; the only sort of working which is worth. This consentaneous
working makes the action in the case of the orator.
The effect, in that of our hero, who did not pretend to oratory,
would be, as in general with most of good Anglo-Norman stock,
the stroke and shout together; the eye will be clear the while,
affording that greatest virtue in the military man, the exercise of
the coup d'œil; the judgment will be really quickened, and more
admirable, with the sense of danger once awakened.

So it was, that the moment Harry Calvert began to gallop, he
began to think. And very various, indeed, were the topics which
now pressed upon his thoughts. Ship and crew; brother and
wife; his own wife; the machinations of the conspirators among
his people; the machinations of the red men against the colony:

all these in turn, and all together, crowded upon his thought and
memory — his steed, meanwhile, beginning to suffer under the
infliction of the spur.

But the rider did not reason the less closely and correctly because
of the fleetness of his motion; and when, after nightfall, he
reached the precincts of the creek where his vessel found harborage,
he had properly digested all his plan of operations in regard
to the subjects most pressing upon his anxieties.

Events were ripening fast to their several issues, and he gathered
up all their clues.

He did not go on board the vessel; but, lurking in the thickets,
approached on foot, near enough to make his signals, which, after
awhile, procured him a secret interview with young Will Hazard,
the youth whose adroit practice had first put him in possession of
the secret of those who were willing to run up the “Jolly Roger.”
Having made a final disposition of all the matters between them,
he sent Hazard back to the ship, and betook himself to a body of
forest in which he had tethered his horse. Here he snatched a
few hours of much needed sleep. With the dawn he was again
mounted; and this time, picking his way slowly and cautiously,
he descended the country, keeping as closely as he could to the
river, until he reached Gowdey's castle, at Oldtown, where he
found a late breakfast awaiting him, and old Gowdey eager for
his return.

He had given the veteran full employment, nor had the latter
neglected any of his commissions. He had manned his castle, in
secret, with fourteen sturdy fellows, old sea-dogs, foresters, and
craftsmen; men who could put their hands to anything; could
handle musket or oar with equal dexterity; and, having passed
through most of the roughening processes of life, without having
reaped any of the rewards of fortune, were just as ready for new
enterprise as the most ardent young fellow of twenty-one.

His little garrison was well armed from the magazine of the
Happy-go-Lucky. Gowdey had drilled them after his mixed
fashion; the sailor and the forester blending oddly enough in his
nature. He had been careful to observe the injunctions of Calvert,
and had maintained the strictest secresy in his operations.
His fellows had been smuggled in under cover of the night; and
while, to all without, the old castle presented its wonted aspect of

solitude and feebleness, no one, white or red, could suspect its increase
of society and strength.

The creature-comforts had not been forgotten. Preparations
were made even for a siege. Casks of bacon, barrels of flour and
biscuit, potatoes, and other stores, had been provided, as well as
all essential munitions of war, rendering the castle a complete
house of refuge for the contiguous country, in the event of any
sudden outbreak among the red men.

Nor had the veteran been heedless of what had been going on
without. To use his own words:—

“I 've been a-scoutin', captain. Soon as I got these fellows in
garrison, and found a man among 'em I could trust, to keep all
dark and close, jest as ef I was here myself, I put out, and have
had a good smart cruise round about the country. I went off
west, to the Stonoe river; then I tuk down the river, among the
Stonoes and Cussoboes; and spread out, right and left, to the
settlements of the Wadmalahs and Kiawahs.”

“Well, what discoveries?”

“It 's clear we 're to have a risin'! The warriors ain't nowhere.
They 're off in the thick somewhere; but where, there 's
no tellin'. I skairted two camps of them, both Wadmalahs, but
could n't git too nigh; for they had their scouts out, and busy.
It tuk all I had of wood-cunnin' to see what I did, and git off
without showin' my heels; but I did! Old Cussoboe was gone
above, with all his men. That I got out of an old squaw, for a
tin cup I carried. But she would tell me no more. The women
in the settlements, I could see, wor oneasy. They had everything
ready for a start at a moment's warnin'. So that, I reckon, you
wor jest as near right, in your calkilations of a risin', as ever was
a man yit that know'd the meanin' of an Injin sign.”

“Did you warn any of the whites?”

“Did n't see many, your honor. I 'm afraid they 'll have to pay
for it with their wool, same as ever. When once these traders
are on the scent of a good trade, they won't smell even the sulphur
of hell's fires, though it 's a-blazin' under their very noses!
I met a Dutchman and three Scotchmen, and each a-horseback,
and a great pack behind him; and I says, `Look you, you 're
a-guine to a most bloody market.' And the Dutchman says,
`Himmel! de plut is goot in de market!' When I told him

'zactly what I meant, he answered by showin' a great pistol, and,
looking brave enough, said, `I vill show de red rascals dis leetle
gon!' And much would they mind his little gun! He 'd git the
arrow through his great belly, out of the woods, and never see
the chap that held the bow. The Scotchmen wor all three together,
and had a sort of consult about what I told them; but
they had a young fellow who was a kind of leader, and he laughed
at Injin fightin', and they all agreed to push for'ard. It seems
that a party of seven, with great packs, had gone ahead, and they
wanted to overhaul 'em, lest they should take off the edge of the
market before they could get up.”

“Whither were they bound?”

“Toward the Savano town, where, they tell, there 's a large
gatherin' of the Injins — the Westoes, Savanoes, Isundigoes, and
Coosaws — for a great ball-play. 'Cordin' to the Scotchmen, there 'll
be a thousand of the red-skins, and maybe more, at the gatherin'!”

“Can Cussoboe be off among these people? Is it possible that
he has brought them together with reference to his own object?”

“I reckon not, your honor. I believe what the old woman says.
I reckon he 's gone above, to the heads of the Edisto, to bring
down the great power of his own tribe, that had n't come down,
and ginerally do n't come down, till the corn 's laid by; that is,
sometime late in July and the first weeks in August. It 's not
likely that he 'll try to work in more tribes than his own; for
these Injins are greedy after what they can git, and do n't want
too many to share the sp'ile. And that 's one reason why they
can 't keep together in large bodies for very long: they grudges
to give up anything they git. I reckon old Cussoboe has marked
out everything, at our white cassique's, for himself; and that 's
one reason why he 's put his own son there. He 'll set the other
chiefs of his people to lookin' for their prog in other quarters.
There 's a small settlement of Scotch and English down upon
South Edisto, close to the salts. They have n't been there long;
and I hear there 's a bigger Scotch settlement at Beaufort, under
a great Scotch lord. Ef the Injins are uprisin', ginerally, they 'll
all be cut off, unless they git warnin' in time, and are sensible
enough to take it.”

“And, in an Indian outbreak, we must always expect a rising
to be more or less general. If it takes in only the tribes of one
nation, they will suffice for the work of destruction.”

“I could n't stretch away fur enough, captain, to give 'em warnin'
on the Edisto and at Beaufort. I had, you know, enough to
consider and watch here; more at home, as I may say. But, ef
you think—”

“No! you will be wanted here. We must try and warn them
by boats from the sea. That will be safer and easier. I will see
to that to-night.”

“To-night, sir!” with a smile. “Why, I reckon to-night you 'll
be at the grand fandango and misdemeanor ball, at Lady Anderson's,
in town. There 's to be old fun, and big splinters, and all-tearin'
music and dancin' there, to-night! Hain't you heard? —
ain't you axed to the music?”

Our rover smiled.

“Well, perhaps I am, Gowdey; and it is possible I may be
there.”

“'T will suit you, captain, for everybody 's to go in his own disguisin's,
jest as he pleases, and wear what sort of coat suits his
idees; and he can kiver his face with a kind of black curt'in that
they calls a mask. Ah! I have it now: the party is a maskeradies!
— that 's it. It 's a big word for a sailor, that 's got but half
a jaw for his speakin', and t' other half for his quid.”

“I may look in upon the masqueraders, Gowdey, but can hardly
be among them. At all events, I can snatch opportunity
enough, I think, to send off a boat to the settlement at Beaufort.
What you tell me of these traders, and the settlements, troubles
me. I fear the mischief is more general than we thought it.
These settlements are all in danger. They seem to have no
sense of it; they have taken no precautions. The authorities
here despise the red men too much; and, indeed, having been for
some time quiet and peaceable, they have furnished natural reasons
why the whites should be lulled into security. This large
gathering of the Indians to the south of us, if true, is an imposing
fact. It is too late in the season for the ball-play.
They have other festivities, it is true — the green-corn dance,
and—”

“Oh! there 's always some rolly-polly's goin' on among 'em!

They 're jest like our white folks, after all. Only let the drum
beat, or the trumpet blow, or the fife squeak, or squeeze the Scotchman's
bags; or jest fling a handful of pebbles in a tin kittle, and
rattle away, and swig liquor all the while; and the monkeys will
crowd about the pole from a thousand quarters, and grin, and
shake their legs, and catch hold of any partners.”

“True enough! But the tribes do not usually congregate in
such numbers, so far from their own council-houses, for any ordinary
music. There is danger that all these traders will lose their
scalps.”

“Like enough! I warned 'em to take a good feel of the wool
on their sculps, for they worn't likely to feel it very long. But
they wor all full of braggadocio, under that young fellow's lead;
and, as they all carried pistols, they talked as ef they wor an
army.”

“Well, we can do nothing for them. But the settlements we
may be in season to save.”

“Yes, ef you can send right away — this very night — and ef
so be they believe you after they hear.”

“Lord Cardross is a stout soldier, and his heart 's in his colony.
He will probably take counsel. We must try, at all events, to
make him do so. This large gathering of the Indians, assuming
the report to be true, argues something beyond the usual Indian
policy. I suspect the Spanish guarda costas are again upon the
coast, and busy in secret. If so, Beaufort is in danger. They
may even meditate mischief here, at Charleston. The place is
without good defences. A single brigantine, well officered, could
destroy the town in three hours.”

“You think so, captain?”

“Think for yourself. What 's the value of the palmetto fort
which they have at Oyster point? Of what use the mud crescent
at the Governor's creek? And if an enemy came through Wappoo
into Kiawah, save your own one gun, Gowdey, no other could
be brought to bear upon her, and that could do no mischief if she
took a position southwest of the town. If I were quite free at
this moment, I would run round with the Happy-go-Lucky to Port
Royal, and see for the Spaniards myself.”

“'T would be famous fun to git in among them guarda costas,
and catch the dons nappin'! I 'd jest like to have a few cracks

at 'em myself, ef only to pay off old scores. They had me nine
months, hard at work, with a bracelet on the ankle, at their cussed
castle at St. Augustine. I owe 'em the weight of that iron
bracelet, in iron bullets, at the rate of nine pounds a day for nine
months; and whenever you can say to me, `Gowdey, come, pay
off them scores with the Spaniards,' you 'll not find an old salt
more ready for a new craft or a fresh quid!”

We must not pursue the dialogue, though in its progress between
the parties it involved a great variety of details, minor certainly,
but all bearing upon the several necessities which concerned
the fortunes of the personages in our history. Besides, it
consumed the day. Calvert lingered with Gowdey till dark, making
final arrangements in reference to the approaching issues;
and was then, under cover of the night, paddled over to the thickets
of the opposite shore, whence he made his way to the town on
foot.

Here, at an appointed place, he found Jack Belcher and our
old acquaintance Franks, who were both eager for his coming,
and in no little consternation. Belcher had received a private
despatch from the ship, reporting the fact that, only the night
before, the prisoner, Gideon Fairchild (whom Sylvester, alias
Stillwater, had procured to be sent to New York, as express,
on the part of the governor), had made his escape; as it was
supposed through the agency of the mulattress Sylvia, the maid-servant
of the fair Zulieme, as she too had disappeared from the
vessel.

Nothing further was known. There were no clues. Sylvia
had been seen in close communication with Gideon, in the hold
where he was kept; but how she had effected his release from his
irons, and his escape from the ship, nothing was stated. The two
had probably got into the forests, and were making, or had possibly
made, their way to town — having had ample time for it, even
by the longest route.

Here was a danger. It argued great laxity of discipline on
board the ship, and our rover now began to reproach himself bitterly
for having suffered his private affairs and feelings to endanger
the safety of his people; for, once in town, Gideon Fairchild
carried a perilous secret, with which the cunning Sylvester could
compel the governor to action against the vessel and crew —

which, as we well know, he would otherwise gladly avoid. And
against this danger even the fertile genius of Harry Calvert had
no remedy.

But he seemed neither surprised nor disconcerted.

“Have you any tidings of a boat from the ship? Has Molyneaux
reached town, or Fowler?”

“Not yet — not that we know.”

“Keep a sharp lookout. You know what is to be done.”

To Franks he said:—

“Have you had your eyes on Sylvester? Has he been to the
governor?”

“No, sir; but he has been out of town, and is out of town now,
I believe.”

“Whither did he go?”

“We could n't find out. We only believe him absent because
we see nothing of him. If he left town, he did so between two
days. He 's been very quiet.”

“He has outwitted you, I am afraid. But we must prepare
against him as well as we can. You have” — to Belcher — “prepared
for the arrival of Will Hazard and his party?”

“He 's at his place long before this.”

“And a good boat's-crew ready at the lagune?”

“Five stout fellows, regular sea-dogs, and well tried.”

“Good! Keep close watch on the approaches from the river,
and upon the house of Mrs. Anderson. You have provided
masks for all of us, Franks?”

“All, sir.”

“Very good. I shall not fail you. I shall leave you for an
hour or two. It is still early. Let no mouse stir without seeing
it!”

And so he left them, and the two separated on their several
duties.

Half an hour later, our rover was closeted with his excellency
Governor Quarry. The governor was in good spirits. These
were soon dashed by the tidings Calvert brought. But, before
he spoke of those which most affected his own private fortunes,
he opened the one topic of most importance to the colany:—

“Your excellency has, I fear, taken no steps in regard to

the report I made you touching the movements of the red
men.”

“What, still piping to that tune, captain?”

“It is one to which you will probably be made to dance, when
you least expect it! I now beg you to despatch a fly-boat, or
periagua, with all haste, to the colony of my Lord Cardross, and
to another colony of Scotch, said to be in his neighborhood, somewhere
along the Edisto, advising them to put themselves instantly
under arms against the red men and the Spaniards! I have reason
to think that there is present danger from both.”

“You are not serious?”

“I have long since ceased to jest.”

The governor rose, and stood up before Calvert.

“My dear captain, you are one of the most mysterious men
living! Where have you been all this while? — what doing?
What keeps you from the sea, now that the chief business is over
with which you came into port? for I feel pretty sure, from what
I hear, that you have emptied your ship. You have at least filled
the town with your goods. The thing is spoken of openly.”

“But they have no clue to the ship's anchorage?”

“No! that adds to the mystery. Where have you hidden
her?”

“Better that even you should not know. You will the more
innocently answer. At all events, you must not expect me to
answer all the queries you put to me.”

“But how is it that you know so much of the settlements, of
those subjects which are so especially my own — the condition of
the colony, its dangers, and the red men and the Spaniards? 'Pon
my soul, though not much vexed with that verdant passion which
poets call ambition, I begin to feel a little jealous of you, with
your mysterious knowings in my province.”

“Do not suffer any such childish feeling to disparage the importance
of what I say. Act promptly upon my report. Write
to my Lord Cardross, as cautiously as you please, but still write
him, to put his people under arms, and employ all his vigilance,
as well by sea as land; and send your despatches this very night.
Believe me, there is no time to be lost.”

“Well, you do seem very serious, and I do not see but that I
may safely adopt your counsel.”

“You will be prudent to do so.”

“But I hate these perpetual alarms about the Indians. Half
the time they make a governor ridiculous.”

“Scarcely, unless he makes himself so. You will not do this.
You have only to write a plain letter, to the effect stated; adding
that the rumors may be groundless, but that the precaution will
be proper. You need say no more, except to urge the notorious
treachery of the red men; the cunning and hostility of the Spaniards;
their frequent invasion; the near neighborhood of St. Augustine
to Beaufort; the fact that the prevailing winds are favorable
from that quarter; and, further, that you have advices that
the governor of St. Augustine has just received an additional
force of three new, light brigantines from Havana, each mounting
ten guns.”

“How know you that?”

“By my own discovery. I crossed them on my voyage hither,
and would have fought them, but that my ship was too deeply
loaded, and with a cargo quite too valuable, to peril against
a force so superior — and the crews of which had nothing to
lose.”

“But about the red men? How is it that you can hear these
things, and I nothing? I have had my emissaries out, too, and
they report everything quiet. The traders go and come. I gave
thirty-eight commissions to as many Scotchmen only three days
ago, to carry on their traffic in the Indian lands, to and up the
Savannah, to Echoee.”

“They will probably, every man of them, lose his scalp.”

“Pshaw, my dear captain! this is being too oracular and prophetic,
surely. Come, come, we will hear to evidence, but not
prophecy. How is it that you can arrive at these things — you,
a mere looker-on — and I, whose very business it is, should know
nothing? — I, too, who have my agents and scouts constantly going
to and fro!”

“Did they tell you, these scouts, of the great gathering of the
Indians on Savannah?”

“Ay, for a ball-play, or some such Indian junketing.”

“A thousand Indians, on our seaboard, gathered to a ball-play,
and at this season of the year, is by no means a common event.
But, did your scouts report that the red warriors south of us were

temporarily separated from their women, and were nowhere visible
except in secret camps?'

“No! That I did not hear.”

“There are many things, my dear governor, which you will
never hear, though you had a thousand scouts, unless you were
sure of those who know the business. Scouting is a beautiful art.
Your Scotch traders have yet to learn it. Had you some that I
could mention, they would soon change your notion of the aspect
of affairs. I took the liberty to counsel you some time ago to fit
up and reman the castle at Oldtown. Did you do so?”

“No, faith, I did not. Old Gowdey came to me also on the
subject, and he had suspicions like yours; but I fancied that the
old sea-dog only wanted to get an increase of importance and
pay—”

“And what did I want, giving the same counsel?”

The governor was taken aback by the question, and answered
with some confusion:—

“Oh, zounds, captain! you are too close, too keen, too sharp
at logical conclusions. Of course, you wanted nothing, except —
except—”

“To give advice; to increase my own importance, as old Gowdey
desired to increase his, eh?”

“Faith, I confess, such was somewhat my thought.”

“I forgive you, my dear governor, especially as I took leave to
repair your neglect — I trust, without subjecting your administration
to reproach.”

“Why, what have you done?”

“To show you what sort of scouts you employ, and what reliance
you may place upon their reports, know that the Oldtown
castle has been manned with fourteen stout soldiers and sea-dogs,
besides old Gowdey; that each of these has his musket, pistols,
and a plenty of ammunition; and that the provisions are ample
for a siege of three weeks. Yet, though, according to Gowdey's
report, no less than five of your scouts have been to see him —
called in passing — since this change has been made, not one has
seen or suspects it.”

“The devil! you say — and — and — my dear captain — you
say that you have done all this — engaged all these beef-eaters,
in government name, and at government expense!—”

His excellency showed real consternation. Calvert knew where
the difficulty lay.

“Even so, your excellency. But here are receipts from all of
them, for six months' pay, the term for which they are engaged;
and here, too, are receipts, all in your name, for the stores of
beef, biscuit, pork, molasses, rum, potatoes, and other commodities,
which were deemed necessary for the garrison for the same
term.”

The governor took the papers in silence. He was confounded.
The rover proceeded:—

“You will establish your claim against the colony for so much
advance made by yourself. You will permit me to say that I
have no claim upon you.”

“By —! Captain Calvert, you are a d—d generous fellow!
D—d generous, by —!”

“Say no more, please! I am compelled, however, to say that,
as soon as you can exchange my ship's muskets, pistols, and cutlasses,
for those of the colony, I shall be glad to have mine back.
These belong to the ship.”

“I shall see to it. I will send the despatch in a fast fly-boat,
this very night, to my Lord Cardross.”

“Better this very hour.”

“As soon as you leave me.”

“I shall leave you shortly; have very little more to say, now:
and that little is, unfortunately, like to give us trouble — me, at
least. Your early knowledge of the facts may help you to keep
out of danger.”

“Why, what's the matter?” demanded the governor, eagerly,
but with no little trepidation in his tones. He felt that something
serious was impending. He knew Calvert too well to suppose
him guilty of a jest; knew, in fact, that when he expressed an apprehension,
it was generally founded upon some trouble of more
than common difficulty.

“Why, what 's the matter, captain?”

“The watch on my ship has been kept badly, during my abcence
from it. The express-rider — Gideon Fairchild — has essaped.”

“The devil! Gone? got off?”

“It would seem so. He escaped last night. The discovery

was only made to-day. He has probably had eighteen hours to
make off.”

“This is a serious matter.”

“To me, perhaps: hardly to you. I shall have to change my
anchorage-ground. You will have to order out the posse comitatus,
and create a special police; nay, despatch an armed force
in search after the vessel, and perhaps put the town under martial
law. It will require, for your own safety, after you shall be
officially apprized of the intelligence I now give you, to show
yourself earnest in asserting the dignity and authority of government.
You will hear of it soon enough. You must show yourself
very resolute and active.”

“Where the devil's the fellow Stillwater [Sylvester]? I have
not seen or heard of him for a week or more.”

“He is not in town, I fancy.”

“Where the devil can he be?”

“Ask rather where your members of council are, for I suspect
he is even now closeted with Morton or Middleton, or some one
or more of them. If he suspects you—”

“Suspects me! How the devil should he suspect me?”

“I do not say that he does. But the thing is possible. He is
cunning enough. He may think you to be lukewarm, at all
events, and he knows some of the council to be otherwise. You
will probably hear the facts through your council.”

“And what 's to be done?” demanded his excellency, greatly
chafed, and striding his chamber with seven-league boots of anxiety.

“I have told you. Keep cool; be calm! It will be sufficient
that you have due notice. You must not be taken by surprise.
You will show yourself more eager in pursuit than your council.
Go with them, even ahead of them, in all the plans they may
propose, for my capture and the seizure of the ship. It is possible
that they will not attempt this, by any force now in the colony.
It is probable that Morton, who was on the Santee a week
ago, has been followed thither by Sylvester; and I think it likely
that, without consultation with you, or any other member of the
council, he will despatch Fairchild from that point to New York,
with a new commission to bring on the king's ships. I must prepare
for them. See that you prepare for Morton. There need

be no embarrassment to you, now that you are prepared to know
exactly what to do. You will, as soon as the facts are forced
upon you, issue your proclamation, and make public the reward
offered for my capture.”

“By —, Captain Calvert, but you take it with a d—d virtuous
coolness!”

“Why should I rage? Why tremble? The arrow flies, whether
we weep or sing.”

“And what mean you to do with yourself?”

“Ah! better, as I have so frequently said, that you should
know as little as possible. I, too, am forewarned.”

“What! suppose I issue my proclamation to-morrow?”

“You will do no such thing, unless you desire to ruin yourself
as well as me. Do nothing, as I said, until the facts are so forced
upon you that you can not escape them. Issue your proclamation
now, and when Morton, Middleton, and Berkeley, ask whence
you get your information, what will you answer? `From Calvert
himself,' eh?”

“True, true! But it 's a devil of a predicament!”

“Pshaw! nothing, governor, so long as we know where the
snares lie, and walk like bearded men with our eyes open, and
our wits, like keen-nosed hounds, running before us. Be cool,
sir, and wait events, and do not force them.”

“Where go you now?”

“Into cover, as soon as possible, as the fox does when she
knows the hounds are abroad. I must relieve you of all responsibility,
all doubts of my safety, so that you may act with the
most prompt decision, at the requisition of your council. Be so
good as to send the fly-boat to my Lord Cardross to-night. They
must use sail and oar, as they can; but make rapid headway. As
for these Indians—”

“D—n 'em! If your suspicions be true, that is another trouble!”

“One trouble is apt to devour another! Considered selfishly,
an outbreak of the red men now, should be subject of congratulation.
It will divert your people and council from your piratical
friends: it will give you and me respite.”

“Egad! that 's likely enough. And, by-the-way, an Indian
war will reopen a branch of business which my virtuous brethren

in council have been busy in shutting up. It will give us captives
for the West-India markets. We must follow the example
of our New-England crop-ears, and buy the scalps of the warriors,
and sell the souls of their women and children — bodies, rather;
the souls would n't bring a stiver in any good Christian market!”

Our rover left our governor to as many sources of consolation
as his own soul could suggest. We shall follow his example; but
not before we have seen his excellency preparing his despatches,
apprizing Lord Cardross of the possible danger from red men and
Spaniards.