University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

The alarm of the sudden outbreak of the savage foe, described
in the last chapter, had spread over the country with
such amazing rapidity, that within twelve hours from the
time the first hostile volley was poured upon the unsuspecting
victims at Swansey, every family of the colonies, both of
Plymouth and Massachusetts, to the remotest log-house of
their frontiers, was in possession of the fearful tidings, with
the thousand exaggerations incident to such occasions. Although
the most far seeing men of the country, and especially
those best acquainted with the Indian character, had repeatedly
warned the public of what would be the inevitable consequence
of the policy of government towards the natives,
particularly that of the court of Plymouth; yet for all that,
the news, when it at last came, as predicted, fell like a thunder

clap upon the people, filling them everywhere with the
deepest consternation and dismay.

In this emergency, Massachusetts, notwithstanding she had
severely censured the court of Plymouth for a policy towards
the Indians, believed to be calculated to involve the country
in an unnecessary war, and more than once interposed her
peaceful offices, yet now, when war was come, acted with
promptitude and despatch. The governor and council met in
the night immediately after the news of the outbreak reached
them; and after a short and exciting debate on the question,
whether they should send their commissioner for a further
attempt to pacify King Philip, or troops to fight him, at
length concluded to do both, and send them all along together,
to act as the circumstances might require. Accordingly,
Captains Henchman, Mosely, and Prentiss, were sent for;
when Henchman was ordered to rally out his company of regular
infantry, and be ready to march early in the morning,
Mosely to follow with his volunteers as soon as he could collect
them, and Prentiss, with his cavalry, to start soon enough
in the day to overtake the rest by the time they should halt
for their first night's encampment. And with such promptness
and energy were these orders executed, that before noon
the next day, the last of the designated forces were on their
march to the scene of action.

Equally expeditious and fortunate, in the meanwhile, had
been our young hero, the determined Vane Willis, in collecting
and organizing his promptly responding associates, preparatory
to an immediate march for the defence of the imperiled
inhabitants of the southern frontiers.

On the second morning after the alarm, there stood paraded
in the green lane in front of the house of their rendezvous,
thirty athletic, resolute, young woodsmen; while a little distance
aloof, were seen lounging, in irregular groups, about
twenty Indians, who had by this time also come in to attach

themselves to the company. Of this promising band, Willis
had, the night before, as all both wished and expected, been
unanimously chosen captain, and Noel, the second in command;
while all the subordinate offices had been filled with
almost equal unanimity. The usual drill and the few simple
military evolutions through which the company had just
been taken, had ceased; and their leader now stood proudly
glancing along their ranks, with the gleaming talismanic
blade, which Madian had bestowed, and which had now become
invested with a double interest in his mind, for the first
time openly displayed at his side.

“Captain Willis,” said Noel, coming forward from the other
end of the line, and taking his superior a little aside. “Captain
Willis, do you still persist in your resolution of marching
into Plymouth, this morning, instead of proceeding directly on
towards the scene of action?”

“Yes,—though I neither expect, nor, indeed, at all covet
a commission from the court, considering who rules the roast
there, yet I think it but right and proper to report myself
and company to the governor, that he may know what forces
are in the field.”

“Under ordinary circumstances I would certainly do so;
but you know the combination they have there got up against
you; and I really fear they will try to detain you on their absurd
charges, or otherwise delay or embarrass you.”

“Then there will be fighting much nearer than Swansey or
Rehoboth; for I will neither be detained nor delayed a single
hour. Yes, Noel, I shall go there.”

“Very well; if you are determined on the experiment, you
shall not want for one backer, at least; and I think every
member of the company, indeed, may be counted on with
equal certainty. But hark!”

The conversation was here interrupted by the distant roll
of drums, whose “stormy music” came fitfully swelling on

the morning breeze from some unseen point along the road
coming in from the north. And presently a stout looking
horseman made his appearance, leisurely approaching alone in
the same direction.

“Can it be,” said Willis, after listening a moment to this
indication of the approach of some military army, and scanning
with interest the advancing horseman—“Can it be,
that the Bay colony have rallied, and pushed on their forces
so expeditiously as this comes to? It looks like it; and if so,
I will venture to say that we shall find Captain Mosely and
his volunteers leading the way. Yes, yes, and yonder horseman,
I suspect, though mounted for some temporary purpose,
can be no other than the go-ahead captain, himself.”

Willis was correct in his conjecture. In a few minutes the
captain rode up, heartily greeted the other, and was introduced
to Noel; when he warmly complimented them both, on
the fine, and, as he termed it, business like appearance of
their company.

“Is that the way you are going into the fight with the Indians,
Captain Mosely?” said Willis jocosely, as he glanced
at the rather sorry looking horse on which the other was
mounted.

“Yes, if every day's march must make me as foot-sore as
the tough one we had of it, last night.”

“Why, did you march all night?”

“To be sure we did. We never left Boston till nearly noon;
and being determined to overhaul Captain Henchman, who
marched with his regulars in the morning, we pulled on
through the night, and did not overtake them till day-break.”

“Where is Henchman and his company, now?”

“Where they encamped, near one of that cluster of ponds
in the hilly country, four or five miles astern.”

“But we have just heard drums, not half that distance from
us. Whose company did they belong to?”

“Mine—my company of spunky volunteers, who, by their
famous fatigue march, are covering themselves with dust and
glory.”

“I don't understand it. If Henchman's force has had the
rest and refreshment of a night's bivouac, and your company
none, how came your company so much in advance?”

“Well, Willis, I am ashamed to tell you; and for the credit
of the Bay troops, I hope you will not believe a word of the
story.”

“Ashamed, Captain Mosely? Why, what has happened?”

“What has happened? Why, there was an eclipse of the
moon last night, or rather this morning.”

“I understood there was to be one. But what had that to
do with your story?”

“A good deal. That same moon, in her mumps this morning,
came near playing the very mischief with Hichman's
whole company. When I reached them, I found their camp
in a complete panic, and seriously meditating a retreat homewards.
The cussed fools, it seems, had been looking at the
eclipse, and their frightened fancies had converted the odd
appearance of the moon at the time into all sorts of bloody
omens—some seeing in it nothing but scalps; some, Indian
bows; some, clouds of smoke hanging over burning villages,
and some—the devil knows what; and the result was, that
the very men who would probably be brave enough in any
real danger, were scared half to death by the bugbears of
their own raising.”

“But their captain—what was their captain about, in the
meantime, to suffer such foolish fancies to possess them?”

“Why, he was as mum as a fish; and I'll be hanged, sir, if
I did not think he looked almost as glummy and down in the
mouth as the rest!”

“And what did you say to them, Captain Mosely?”

“Well, I scarcely know myself, for I never was so mad and

mortified with the conduct of any set of fellows in my life.
Before I worked myself up to the swearing point, however, I
tried to reason with them, telling them that such eclipses had
happened a thousand times—that there was now nothing
unusual nor unnatural in the appearance of the moon, for such
an event. Then I laughed at them, and told them I thought
they were slandering the poor, innocent moon in her troubles,
for even if there were any omens in the case, she would not
be such a partial, scurvy jade as to give out signs all on one
side—that the Indians must take half of them to themselves,
at all events, which would leave the matter no worse than
before. Then I tried to shame them for being frightened by
scare-crows, like a parcel of children before their clouts were
off. And finally, proceeding next to serious talk with them,
I waxed rather warm, probably, for a church member in regular
standing, as I am; and if I swore outright, I don't believe
Gabriel has put it down on the debtor side of my account, for
I could not keep the old man down, and so at last cussed them
up hill and down for a pack of ninnies and cowards.”

“How did they bear all that?” asked the surprised and
greatly amused young officers.

“Well, a good deal better than I expected. The fact was,
they began by this time to see that the supposed sure omens
were, after all, mere matters of guesswork; and the more that
idea prevailed among them, the more they got ashamed of
themselves. And so, the mischief-making eclipse going off,
to help the matter, about the same time, they soon became
more cheerly, and set about cooking their breakfast, which
they invited us to partake; and by the time all was over, and
my company prepared to move, I had the pleasure of seeing
them in something like a soldier-like condition again, and
packing up to follow us. They will now soon be on the
march, I think, especially as they would wish to be off before
Captain Prentiss, who stopped with his troop at a house but a

few miles in the rear, should overtake them and learn the
cause of their tardy movements.”

“There, captain, your company are just heaving in sight,”
said Willis, pointing to the head of a column of men just emerging
from a copsewood on the road about a mile distant. “And
now Lieutenant Noel, we will, if you please, be putting our
little band in motion.”

“Stay a moment,” said Mosely.—“Where is to be your
next halting place?”

“For our midday halting place, some part of Middleborough,
probably; but I have concluded to march first into Plymouth,
to report my company to the governor.”

“That will be a mile or two out of the way,” observed
Mosely.

“Yes, and that is not all,” interposed Noel. “There are
those about Plymouth court who are looking for a chance to
pick a quarrel with Captain Willis; and I have been advising
him to stear clear of them.”

“O, yes, I bethink me now,” responded Mosely. “Willis
told me something about it. But they wouldn't be so inveterate
in their sectarian dislikes, as to rake them up against a
man coming to help them,—especially in a crisis like this?
If I had any wish to go there, I would not be deterred by any
fears of that kind.”

“Nor will I, Captain Mosely,” responded Willis, with a
determined air. “I shall give them a call.”

“For all that,” rejoined Noel, “I am not without apprehensions
of difficulty.”

“Difficulty!” said Mosely, in surprise at the serious assertion
of the other, “I should like to see them try to make it,—
I will think of this matter.”

And so the officers parted, Willis and Noel with their brave
little band, which they now at once put in motion, to march

to Plymouth, and Mosely to sit on his horse in waiting for his
company to arrive.

It was about nine o'clock in the morning; and a group of
the most active members and attaches of the court of Plymouth,
consisting of the cold, stately and severe Governor Winslow
himself, several of the magistrates, and all the several personages
before introduced in that connection, were standing
on the green lawn in front of the executive mansion, where
they had assembled, as they had often done during the two
past days of excitement and alarm, to hear the news and discuss
the condition of public affairs. Deacon Mudgridge, who,
as usual, had engrossed the attention of the governor, was remarking,—

“I think the people yesterday, albeit very natural on the
receiving of such startling tidings, were overmuch alarmed.
But now that our valiant Captain Cudworth and his trusty
company are far on their way towards the kenneling holes of
the hellish crew, their confidence will revive.”

“Ay, that is a good company of the captain's, truly,” responded
the governor; and I think we may count on them for good
service, in chastising the audacious Philip and his murderous
gang.”

“Of a verity we may. They have gone forth to battle
armed by the panoply of the prayers of the church. They
are like the God-selected band of Gideon, for they have all
lapped the water of righteousness, and will surely prevail.
How brother Dummer did wrestle in that exceedingly able
prayer he made on the eve of their marching, yester noon!
I felt in the fervor and faith of that wondrous outpouring,
that the time had indeed at length come, when we were to be
permitted to fulfill the command of Heaven, to drive out the
heathen and possess the land that has so long been polluted
by their abominations.”

“I am glad, Deacon, to see you getting up to the point of

your old faith and cheerfulness, again. I have thought you
appeared rather cast down of late.”

“Peradventure your excellency may not be wholly in error
in that regard. I confess, as you do know, governor, that my
Christian patience has been sorely tried, lately, in the matter
of the scandalous outrage enacted by that shameless heretic,
called Vane Willis, in abducting or, by his devilish arts, enticing
away from her home, and the lawful protection of her
friends, that young lamb of our Christian flock, the daughter
of our good and worthy sister Southworth.”

“But I should think Mr. Sniffkin would have the greater
reason to be sad and dejected, if I have rightly understood
the matter.”

“Mr. Sniffkin is justly and properly indignant, and has
already arranged to bring the contumacious villain to punishment,
for that, and his other public offenses, should he ever
again make his appearance. Nathless it could hardly be expected
he would feel so sensibly as I the deep disgrace thus
brought on the good name of the deluded maiden's family,
whereof I was responsible, and also on the church, under which
through me, its first officer, she was in a sort of tutelage. I
have lain awake nights, and grieved, and grieved, over this
terrible reproach, governor, and earnestly prayed that the
base author of it be made to meet the punishment he deserves.”

“You lay all the blame of this untoward affair, I perceive,
on the young man, who, as I have heard, is not without friends
and influence in some parts of the colony. Why should not
the girl be made, in some degree, at least, to share it with
him? And there are some other things about this case, which
I am not quite sure I fully understand, Deacon Mudgridge.”

The Deacon cast an uneasy glance at the governor; and
was about to reply; when he was interrupted by the inspiriting
strains of martial music, indicating that some military

array was approaching. And in a few minutes more, a small,
but well armed, and fine looking company of foot soldiers,
headen by a tall, handsome young officer, wheeled round a
corner into full view, and advancing in dressed column, and
steps all timed to the tune of piercing fife and rattling drum,
came sweeping down the street in bold and gallant style towards
the spot where the Governor and his attendants were
hastily arranging themselves for a reception. Supposing the
company to be Henchman's infantry, of whose march out of
Boston, the morning before, they had been apprised, they all
joined, on the first appearance of the column, in a welcoming
hurra; and then stood, with gratified looks, silently awaiting
their approach.

“A fine company!” exclaimed the governor, who was a man
of military tastes. “A fine little company, that!” he repeated,
with unwonted animation, as he glanced approvingly
along the line. “What noble and hardy-looking fellows!
Ah, there's service in that company! But,” he added, with
a puzzled expression, as they drew near—“but can that officer
in command be Captain Henchman? I know Henchman;
that is not him—that is a much younger man. Who is he,
Deacon Mudgridge?”

But the Deacon was quite too much disturbed by his own
feelings, by this time, to heed the question. He had that
moment identified the young officer with the hated Vane
Willis; and the expression of trained meekness which first
sat upon his flat, meaty visage, and which was then banished
by the surprise of the unexpected discovery, had now settled
into a look of wolfish ferocity. For a moment he stood mute
and hesitating, with his features fast contracting towards a
focus, and working with suppressed passion. Soon rallying,
however, he addressed a few low, earnest words to the governor,
and then hastily went and whispered some order in the
ear of Dick Swain, who, with a knowing, affirmative wink and

nod, hurried away from the place. Captain Willis now came
up, commanded a halt, and, uncovering his head, bowed
respectfully to the governor, who seemed not a little confused
and at a loss how to act in the unexpected emergency.

“I came,” said Willis, in a clear, calm voice, after a pause
sufficient to ensure attention—“I came here to report myself
and company to your Excellency, as I deemed myself in duty
bound.”

“I—I have not, I believe, the honor of your acquaintance,
sir,” responded the governor, in evident embarrassment.
“What company do you propose to report to our court, for
inspection or otherwise?”

“A company of volunteers, your Excellency, who have seen
fit to honor your humble servant, Vane Willis, by placing him
at their head; and who propose immediately to march to the
post of danger, hoping, by the blessing of God, to do some
service in defence of the colony against the savage foe.”

“We have already dispatched a sufficient force for the occasion,
we trust; and they marched yesterday, under the command
of that brave and skillful officer—Captain Cudworth—
and with the most happy auspices,” was the hesitating and
equivocal response of the cold and haughty Winslow.

“We came,” promptly replied the unflinching young officer,
with a slight spice of ironical bitterness creeping into his
tone—“we came but to report ourselves, that the court might
be duly apprised what forces were in the field — ours among
the number—voluntarily exposing their lives to save the helpless
families of the frontier from the torch and the tomahawk
of the merciless enemy ye have aroused, and,” he added,
glancing significantly at the Deacon, his Shadow, and Sniffkin—“and
to ensure safety to those who see fit to stay at
home.”

“Be mindful of the presence you are in, young man,” said
the governor, secretly stung at the rebuke to his friends, and

perhaps himself, involved in the words and unsubmissive
manner of the other.

“I am, your Excellency. But our business is completed,
and I have nothing further to offer,” responded the captain,
now turning with a flashing eye to his company, and exclaiming,
with that sudden and startling energy which suppressed
excitement always imparts to the human voice, “Attention,
fellow soldiers! Shoulder arms! To the right about face!”

“I can hold my peace no longer; no, not a minute
—not a minute longer,” here interposed Deacon Mudgridge,
trembling all over with pious indignation, and advancing with
hands rapidly sawing the air, towards the glum governor.
“No, I can't; and I protest, if there was nothing else to be
said and done — yea, I do earnestly and solemnly protest
against our holy cause against the heathen being endangered
by the least connection with the ungodly wretch. But there
is something else to be said and done. I charge,” he continued,
with increasing vehemence, as his eye caught sight of
his supple tool, Dick Swain, followed by the constable and his
posse, hurrying towards the scene. “I charge this same
Vane Willis with numerous high handed offenses, among
which it is sufficient, for this time, to name the crime of his
being a heretical and pestilent Quaker, (whereof, to avert the
anger of an offended God, it has been decided to purge the
land,) and the still more heinous and crying offence of abducting
a worthy young maiden of this good town—for all
which crimes and offenses the proper warrants are in the
hands of our trusty officer, here just arriving, and I demand
the criminal's immediate arrest.”

“Does this look like being a Quaker?” demanded Willis,
who, the moment a threat was made to arrest him, stopped
short in his preparations to march, and boldly confronting his
accuser, seemed resolved to face the charges on the spot.
“Does it look like a peace-sworn Quaker, to be here in arms,

and voluntarily on my way to the war? Away with the absurd
charge! And as to the other specified offence—that of
abduction,” he added, advancing a step towards the quailing
Deacon. “You, sir, may count yourself a lucky man, if you
can clear your own skirts, when the day of reckoning shall
arrive, of everything chargeable on you, connected with that
mistreated young lady's disappearance.”

“I can testify,” interposed Noel, stepping forward to the
side of his superior, and waving his hand to attract the attention
of the governor, who was evidently becoming ill at ease at the
aspect affairs were assuming. “I can safely testify to Captain
Willis's innocence, and even entire ignorance of the manner
of the disappearance of the person whose alleged abduction
constitutes the last charge; and but for myself, he would
have to this hour, believed that the abductor was no other
than the accuser himself.”

“It is false!” exclaimed the Deacon, fuming like a tiger
about to be cheated out of his prey. “It is false! It is a
combination to screen the contumacious villain, who is verily
guilty of both the charged offences. And they, moreover, are
but a part of his crimes. He has reviled and spoke evil of
our rulers, as I do know. He has committed treason against
the State, in that he took part with the enemy at the late
trial of the Indians. He is a scoffer of our holy church. He
is a heretic—yea, a rank heretic, as well as pestilent Quaker,
and I command you, constable, to do your duty!”

“Back, sir! lay no hand on me!” exclaimed Willis, in a
determined tone, as the officer and his attendants made a move
towards him. “Though I do not intend to run away, nor be
frightened away by your threats and demonstrations, yet I now
give you, one and all, to understand, that I will not submit to
an arrest on such false and foolish charges, nor will I be detained
one moment longer than I choose.”

“Do your duty! Why don't you do your duty? Do your

duty, I say!” shouted the enraged Deacon, brandishing his
clenched fist towards the officer.

“Advance at your peril, sir!” again cried the undaunted
Willis, in a tone that brought the officer a second time to a
pause.

“Soldiers,” now vociferated Noel, in the sharp tones of
military command, “Soldiers of the rear ranks! advance,
here on the right and left, for the protection of your captain!”

“I denounce!” rejoined the infuriated Deacon, as with astonishment
he saw the two files of armed men resolutely arraying
themselves on either side of their commander—“I
denounce! I anathematize! I protest against this high handed
resistance to authority! And I appeal to the governor, who
beareth not the sword in vain. I appeal to him to see the
law executed.”

“Hold!” sternly cried the governor, obviously anxious to
avoid an open collision, which his conscience told him would
redound little to the credit of the court and colony—“Hold!
I command the peace! I command you all to desist from
your demonstrations, till the matter can be duly considered!”

“But is the course of justice,” said the Deacon, turning
with ill-suppressed irritation to the other—“Is the course of
justice, I should like to know, to be turned aside by threats
and treasonable demonstrations?”

“Certainly not, Deacon,” responded the governor, deprecatingly,
as he glanced uneasily from one party to the other
like a man between two fires—“that is, it certainly ought
not to be; but it should be peaceful and deliberate; and I
was about to say, that the warrants having been duly placed
in the hands of the officer, though the accused may be able
to extenuate, and I hope purge himself of the charged offenses,
yet now, as the matter is situated, I see no other way
but he must submit to arrest.”

“Well, I do,”—here promptly rose the loud, grum voice
of a brawny looking man, who, before unnoticed, had been
sitting on a horse, on the outside of the now accumulated
crowd, an attentive witness of the altercation—“I do, I see
another way to get along with the foolish flareup; and that is
for the meddlesome movers to back out, and let Captain Willis
and his company go about their business.”

“Who is that who presumes to gainsay the order the
governor has just so deliberately given?” demanded the unyielding
Deacon, turning with a look of mingled surprise and
anger, to this new and unexpected interposer.

“Don't fret,” coolly returned the other—“don't fret, mister,
all in good time; though you are not quite the one to deserve
an answer to the unmannerly question. But hark'ee,
governor, I am Captain Mosely, of the Massachusetts volunteers,
now resting a bit on the plain up yonder, while I rode
in here.”

“Indeed!” responded the governor in surprise, while
something like a blush passed over his austere visage, at the
thought of what the other must have been witnessing—“very
well, sir, I will hear what you may have to say.”

“I intend you shall,” bluntly rejoined the captain, whose
brow gave unmistakeable tokens of a storm. “I intend you
shall; for having been listening to this trumpery affair as
long as my patience will hold out, I am ready to let off. And
this is just what I have to say—no more, no less—that if
such officers as Captain Willis, here, who, with his company,
promise to be the most efficient little corps in the field—if
such officers as he are to be harassed, snapped up, and detained
by malicious prosecutions or charges, growing out of
your miserable, strait-laced, sectarian mummeries, I swear
by the God that made me, I will, within one hour, be on the
march home again, to disband my company, and let the savage
hell-hounds come on and work their will on ye. But,

for the sake of the defenceless families of your frontier—not
you—I'll be cussed if I'll allow you even that alternative.
Captain Willis,” he added, drawing out two pistols, and cocking
them, as he threw a significant glance at the recoiling
constable and his posse, “Captain Willis, put your company
into motion, sir! I'll take the responsibility of covering your
rear.”

The last words had scarcely escaped the lips of the bold
captain, before the sharp commands of Willis, “Prepare to
march! March!” rung out upon the air, and the next moment
his exulting band moved defiantly away from the disgraceful
scene, leaving the governor biting his lips in chagrin,
and the baffled Deacon fairly foaming in his speechless
rage.