The Cavaliers of Virginia. Volume 1 of 2

Francis Beverly.

Bacon's answer was no less courteous and explicit.

Berkley Arms, June – , 16 –

To Francis Beverly, Esq

Sir – Your note by the hands of Mr. Ludwell was this moment received. Your challenge is accepted. To-morrow morning at sunrise I will meet you. The length of my weapon will be furnished by my friend Dudley, who will convey this to Mr. Ludwell, as well as make all other arrangements on my behalf. I have the honour to be, yours, &c.

Nathaniel Bacon.

The following morning at sunrise, two parties of Cavaliers landed from their boats at a secluded inlet, on the southern extremity of Hog Island, immediately opposite the city, but screened from view by the depth of the overshadowing forest. A surgeon with his assistant soon followed.

The two parties exchanged formal but courtly salutations, and immediately proceeded to the business of their meeting. A level grass-plot, firm under the pressure of the foot, and sufficiently cleared for the purpose, had long been set apart as the battle ground on similar occasions, and was now easily found.

When all the parties were arrived at this spot, the seconds proceeded to measure the swords in presence of their principals. This of course was a mere formality required by the usages of the times, as the length of the weapons was already known and settled between themselves.

The two young Cavaliers about to engage in deadly strife, were perhaps as nearly matched in skill and courage as any that could be found in the Colony. Both were in the daily practice of the foils, as a matter of education no less than of amusement. Both were impetuous by nature, and rash in their actions, and both came upon the field longing for vengeance in requital of wrongs which each supposed he had received at the hands of the other.

Beverly was in the enjoyment of ruddy health, and buoyant animal impulses, but his antagonist was pale, thin, and evidently labouring under depression of spirits, as well as feebleness of body. To a hasty, and superficial observer, this state of the parties would have seemed decidedly unfavourable to the latter; but it is very questionable whether the high health and robust strength of Beverly were not more than counterbalanced by the subdued but steady composure evinced by his antagonist, the result of long confinement and depletion.

With a slight inclination of the head in formal salutation, each advanced a foot and crossed his blade with that of his antagonist. The eyes of each were instantly riveted upon his enemy, with the steady and deadly ferocity of two wild beasts of prey. The pause continued a few moments, as if each were striving to measure the hatred of the other; a few rapid and skilful thrusts and parries were exchanged, and then another interval of suspense and inactivity ensued. The next effort was longer and more fiercely contested, and the intentions of each in this uncomplicated warfare were more readily distinguished. Beverly was at each successive trial becoming more and more ferocious, while his antagonist was as evidently acting on the defensive, if not attempting to disarm him. This now apparent intention of the latter, might be the necessary result of his present comparative debility, of policy – aiming to take advantage of his opponent's impetuosity, or of his promise to Virginia. But from whatever cause it sprung, Dudley thought it a most hazardous experiment to depend upon disarming so skilful a swordsman, and was accordingly under the most lively apprehensions for the fate of his friend. These were not however of long continuance, for at the next onset, Beverly, forgetting himself for a moment, as he impetuously flashed his weapon in deadly and rapid thrusts, cried, "Ha, Sir Bastard, have at your coward's heart." In the next instant Bacon's sword pierced his body – his eyes glared wildly for an instant, his sword fell from his powerless hand, and as Bacon withdrew the weapon, Beverly uttered a groan and fell prostrate upon the earth.

Bacon stood listlessly wiping his sword-blade upon his handkerchief, his eyes abstractedly fixed upon the fallen youth, like one without thought or reason, or rather so deeply buried in thought as to be almost unconscious of the scene before him. His thoughts were upon his promise to Virginia, to act only upon the defensive. This he had interpreted far more literally than the fair girl herself had designed, and it was his intention so to act throughout the struggle, had not his patience and forbearance been overcome by the taunting exclamation of his adversary, just preceding the last fatal onset.

All the circumstances passed rapidly through his mind, until his meditations settled into the most poignant regret; not a little aggravated when Beverly opened his eyes, and held up his hand to Bacon, feebly exclaiming, "Bacon, forgive me; I wronged you both first and last. I see it now when it is too late, but it is never too late to ask forgiveness for an injury." Bacon grasped his hand, and flung himself prostrate at his side in an instant. "Before God, Beverly, it was not my intention, when I came to the field, to do this deed; my whole effort at first was to disarm you. Forgiveness lies with you, not with me. I have done you an irreparable injury, yours was but the result of thoughtless impetuosity, for which I as freely forgive you, as it was hastily and heedlessly offered. May God forgive us both."

The surgeon and his assistant now interfered in the prosecution of their professional duties. While these were in progress, all parties were silent in breathless attention; not a change of the doctor's countenance escaped them. At length he arose, and deliberately wiping and replacing his instruments in their case, walked thoughtfully some paces from the wounded youth.

Bacon dared not follow to ask the fate of his patient, but Dudley, with breathless eagerness pursued his footsteps, and demanded to know in few words his fate. "Life or death, Doctor?" he hastily exclaimed, as if he expected an answer in like short and expressive terms.

"Ours is not one of the exact sciences as to prognostication," said Dr. Roland. "The wound extends from the anterior part of the thorax."

"Don't tell me about the thorax, doctor, tell me whether there is life or death?"

"The pleura and the right lobe of the lungs have been wounded, consequently there will be great inflammation succeeding, both from the pleuretic and pulmonary excitement. These are the unchangeable laws of the animal economy, and will not yield were the son of Charles himself lying before us."

"O damn the animal economy. Can't you say in one word, life or death?"

"No, I cannot, Master Dudley. All I can say at present is, that it is my hope and belief, if properly managed, that he will not die from the hemorrhage, and that his chance of life depends upon his weathering out the inflammation mentioned."

"There is a reasonable hope then! Thank you, doctor, thank you; may God send that his life be spared." Uttering this fervent ejaculation he joined his companions, who now held a consultation as to the most judicious plan of removing the wounded youth. One proposed that he should remain at a cottage upon the island; but the surgeon decided that he might be removed in a boat to the city as easily as he could be carried to the cottage. He was accordingly extended upon a rude litter, and deposited in the most convenient boat, upon such a bed as they could hastily construct of cloaks and bushes.

They had scarcely emerged from the shrubbery overhanging the margin of the river, when a rustling noise was heard, similar to that made by the flight of a large flock of birds, and in the next instant a shower of Indian arrows fell harmless in the water, succeeded by an astounding yell of twenty or more savages, indistinctly seen through the dense fog rising from the stream. Their light bark canoes, of variegated colours, could scarcely be distinguished as they rode upon the waves like huge aquatic birds. The savage warriors were standing perfectly erect, notwithstanding the motion of the waves and the vigorous exertions of those squaws who officiated at the oar and helm. Bows were already strung in their hands, and they were again in the act of leveling them upon the party, when Bacon, seizing a duck gun from the bottom of the boat, fired into the midst of the foremost canoe. Three huge painted warriors leaped into the water and yelled and struggled for an instant before they sunk to rise no more. Another discharge of arrows, and another shot from Bacon's weapon, with like success, considerably damped the ardour of the pursuit. Bacon and his party had in the mean time urged the boat containing Beverly and the surgeon far ahead and out of reach of their missiles, while they protected their retreat. Having suffered the enemy to come within striking distance, he was now enabled to see that they were Chickahominies, and readily comprehended their motives. He was himself the object of their pursuit. They had watched his movements for the purpose of avenging the death of their chief and his followers. So prompt and efficient, however, was the defence of the party sought, that after a few harmless flights of arrows, and a few returns from the firearms of the white party, they hastily retreated, and in a short time their canoes were only seen like distant specks on the circumscribed horizon, as they scudded away before the rising volumes of vapour for fear the dawning day should betray them and their hostile attitude to the notice of the citizens.

As Bacon and Dudley stepped upon the shore in front of the palisade, the other party having landed and disappeared before their arrival, they stood to gaze over the water for an instant to ascertain whether any of the savages yet lingered upon the scene. The fog was rapidly rising from the water, so that their line of vision was uninterrupted for some distance over the bay between the islands.

They could just perceive their late enemies doubling the southern point of the island upon which they stood, and were about to retire, supposing all further apprehension from that quarter at an end, when they discovered the dim outlines of some one upon the southern end of the island, making signals with a white handkerchief. They immediately and silently moved along the shore, under cover of the palisade, until they came within such a distance of the object which had attracted their attention, that they could discern who it was themselves, at the same time remaining undiscovered. It was Wyanokee! Her appearance at this early hour and solitary place, and her equivocal employment, produced the greatest astonishment and mortification in the mind of Bacon. Until this moment he would have pledged his life for her truth and fidelity. Ever since the encounter with the Indians, he had been wondering in his own mind, how they had pursued him so exactly to the secret place of their rendezvous. Now he recollected that Wyanokee had passed through the gallery of the State House on the preceding evening, where Dudley and himself were practising. She might have overheard some of their conversation. Her presence at such a place had excited a momentary surprise at the time, but it all passed over, under the usual idea that Wyanokee was every where. She often glided about like a spirit, yet no one knew whither she was going, or the purpose of her movements. "Can it be possible," said Bacon to himself, "that Wyanokee has been treacherous?"

All these corroborating circumstances, together with her present attitude, answered in the affirmative. Notwithstanding the strong conviction of this unwelcome fact which now settled on his mind, he could not believe her deliberately bent on his destruction. He had seen her exhibit many noble traits of character in trying situations. Besides, she was somewhat under his protection, and we are always inclined to love those whom we have served. She was also Virginia's pupil, and the latter was proud of her as such, and he himself had felt a sort of complacency at the progress of the maiden under her tuition. His imagination had often dwelt upon her imaginary perfections, as so many reflected beauties from Virginia's guileless heart and cultivated mind. No, he could not believe her thus meanly treacherous. Some native impulse must have been roused, some secret spring of her long hidden and dormant nature, must have been touched. Her savage ideas of patriotism had fired her to revenge the death of her nation's chief.

Notwithstanding these palliating suggestions which rose in his mind on the doubtful attitude in which he had detected her, his reflections were by no means pleasing, as he locked his arm in Dudley's, and retired from the shore. Every thing seemed to him to conspire against his happiness. First, there was the old and ever present cause of solicitude in relation to his own origin, the doubtful nature of which had been the remote cause of the unhappy rencounter of the morning. Then there was the new attitude in which he was placed towards Virginia, by the death of her father, together with the tantalizing, partial revelations of the anonymous letters and gold locket, which that event had thrown into his possession, with the thousand surmises, half formed hopes, and resolutions resulting from them. Upon the whole, however, he could not but feel, in the midst of these various depressing circumstances, that his chance for success in an application for the hand of Virginia was greater with the widowed lady of the murdered Fairfax than it would have been were he alive. He knew the high position in which he stood in that lady's favour. He knew her contempt for worldly show, pomp and circumstance – he had always known it, but now he knew something of the cause in the revelations of her own history. He knew that she had boldly indulged the first predilections of her own young heart at the expense of her father's and her brother's favour; and his hopes were strong, that when he should present himself before her in something of a like attitude, as an applicant for the hand of her fair daughter, her own recollections would rise up before her in his favour. That there would be difficulties to surmount, and prejudices to subdue, he knew full well. That Sir William Berkley would exert his power to the utmost, to prevent such a consummation he also knew; but the consent of Mrs. Fairfax once gained, he resolved to brave the opposition if he could not subdue the prejudices of the Governor.

The unhappy business of the morning would in all probability hasten the contending elements to a crisis. The Governor would soon know of the meeting and its result; he would in all probability inquire into the cause of the quarrel, and his shrewd insight into the motives of human action would very soon discover that there were hidden impulses operating, which caused the insult to be given, and kindred ones in the opposite party which rendered the offence so much the more heinous and unpardonable. In short, he would discover that there was a lady at the bottom of the whole affair; and that this lady was his own fair niece; and that the two gentlemen who had just contended in deadly strife, were rivals for the possession of her favour. Such being the process of reasoning in the Governor's mind, Bacon knew him too well to suppose that he would delay the matter long before he endeavoured to bring it to a conclusion. Indeed he believed (and the reader knows how truly) that his excellency already saw the advantages of the connexion as vividly as his nephew apprehended the sterling qualities of the lady. Such being the case, the result of the morning's meeting, if it did not prove fatal to his rival's life, would in all probability precipitate the matter at once to an issue. The Governor would no sooner ascertain that Beverly was out of danger than he would take the business in his own hands, and how he would manage it, and what means he would take to accomplish his ends, Bacon's personal experience in other matters fully taught him. He resolved therefore to be beforehand with him, to present his own claims first, to attempt to conciliate the lady of his late patron, before her ear had been poisoned by the violent abuse which he knew would be heaped upon him, as well as by contempt for his origin. But could he imbrue his hand in the blood of his rival and then present it for acceptance? Could he precipitate his claims before the family in their present melancholy state?

These were the subjects of his reflection, as the two youths entered the gates of the city, – and here another difficulty arose; if he should immediately present himself before the family, the news of the meeting having preceded him, even without broaching the subject before alluded to, would not the feelings excited in the mind of Virginia and her mother be unfavourable to his claims? Then again, should he leave rumour with her hundred tongues to explain to the maiden the reasons which had induced him to accept the challenge from her kinsman, would not his cause be still more prejudiced? Finally, therefore, after taking all these things into consideration, he came to the conclusion that it was best to wait some favourable news from his wounded rival before presenting himself, or in case of the worst result, to absent himself from the city altogether for a time.

Accordingly the youths bent their footsteps to Dudley's lodgings, there to await intelligence concerning Beverly. It is hardly necessary to remind the reader that duelling in that day, so far from being considered criminal, was the sole test to which all differences between gentlemen were submitted. The influence of the custom has been handed down, variously modified by the circumstances of the times, from one generation to another, until it has reached our own.

CHAPTER XV

For more than a week Frank Beverly lay in the most precarious state, and more than once during that period his friends were summoned to his bed-side, expecting every moment to be his last. Bacon, torn and racked with suspense, moved about the house of his late patron like one distracted. He had already made his peace with Virginia, by explaining to her the unequivocal and unconditional demand for satisfaction made upon him by Beverly, as well as the unjustifiable taunt upon the field, by which he had been driven from his defensive attitude. But even her society failed in its usual attractions, while Beverly remained in danger. Doctor Roland, with all his technical formality, was as indefatigable in his attentions as he was oracular and mysterious in his announcements from hour to hour, and day to day, concerning the state of his patient. These, reported to his master from the lips of Brien O'Reily, would form no unamusing subject for the reader, were not our attention called to the more important personages and graver incidents of our narrative.

As Bacon had surmised, Sir William Berkley was not long in understanding the real cause of the quarrel; he had himself heard partial reports of the affront and its cause on the night of its occurrence. As Bacon had also expected, he seemed to await the fate of his young kinsman, before he took any farther steps towards promoting the alliance between him and Virginia. This however did not prevent him from giving way to the most ungovernable rage at Frank's condescension in meeting an adventurer, "the son of no one knew whom."

At length the invalid was unequivocally pronounced to be out of danger, by Dr. Roland himself. The Governor had no sooner received the information, than he despatched a footman with his most respectful compliments to Mrs. Fairfax, and requested the pleasure of an hour's conversation with her, on the most important business; in answer to which, a message was returned to the Governor, that she would be pleased to see him, at any moment which might suit his convenience. That time soon arrived, and the formal old gentleman, after many apologies for the untimely intrusion upon the privacy of her sorrows, and condolence for their cause, thus introduced the subject to which he solicited her attention.

"It was perhaps not known to you, Madam, that your late lamented husband and myself had long since formed a prospective arrangement, by which we hoped to dispose of our fortunes in such a manner as to add honour and dignity to our families, at the same time that we should preserve them united, and confer happiness upon our nearest relatives and presumptive heirs. His will, as I understand, has not yet been authenticated, but doubtless when it is so you will find that he has provided for the fulfilment of this design."

"I do not fully comprehend your Excellency."

"I mean, madam, that we contemplated uniting in marriage, your fair daughter and my young kinsman, Beverly; by this means I will be enabled to entail my fortune on their male descendants, which will meet all my desires concerning my niece, at the same time that it will be doing no injustice to my young relative."

"The plan seems ingeniously contrived, Sir William, to prevent future heart-burnings concerning the disposal of your estate; but were the young people to know nothing of the arrangement?"

"The knowledge of it was kept from them, at the suggestion of your late lamented husband, in order that they might imbibe no prejudices against the scheme as they grew up, but rather be thrown into each other's way, as the time for its consummation approached, and thus perhaps discover its propriety themselves. This has in part proved true, for on the very day of the unfortunate accident which deprived your house of its inestimable head, I had the honour to lay Frank's proposals before him."

"Sir William – I do not know my daughter's sentiments on the subject, – the fulfilment of the scheme will depend entirely on her feelings."

"With due deference, madam, would it not be more politic to treat the matter as already, and long since settled, between her father and myself, and sacredly sealed by his death?"

"I must be plain and candid with your Excellency – I have no desire to use policy in the affair; if my daughter gives her free and hearty consent, you have mine; but if the match is repugnant to her feelings we will drop the subject, with many thanks to your Excellency for your kind purposes, and to Mr. Beverly for the intended honour."

Virginia was now called in; but while the servant performed that duty, Sir William replied, "I am exceedingly mortified, madam, that you seem to place the fulfilment of this long-treasured scheme upon a contingency so light."

"Do you then consider a young lady's being permitted to have a voice in choosing her partner for life, a light contingency, Sir William?"

"I think, madam, that her parents are more capable of making a selection which will confer honour upon them and her, than she can possibly be. Our best families would soon arrive at a very plebeian level, were every female descendant to be permitted to indulge her love-sick fancies, instead of consulting the interest and honour of her house. But it may be that this discussion is useless in the present instance. Here, madam, comes your daughter, who will decide."

Virginia entered, pale and trembling with alarm and vague presentiments of evil; her hands were crossed upon her breast, and her eyes downcast. After making a reverential courtesy to the Governor, she instinctively stood before him, awaiting his commands as one upon trial. However harsh the Governor's opinions to the mother, policy dictated a very different course toward the daughter; he accordingly led her to a seat beside himself, and with the most bland and courteous manner, thus addressed her,

"I come, my niece, as an ambassador from poor Frank, with full powers to ask of your mother this fair hand in marriage; and I must take the same opportunity to declare the happiness it would give Lady Berkley and myself, to receive you into our mansion as the wife of our kinsman, and the daughter of our affections."

The mildness and the unusual condescension of her formal uncle completely threw Virginia from the stately and unequivocal answer which she had meditated when first summoned; for it will be recollected that she had already had an intimation of his intentions. She could do no less than feel grateful for his own undoubted affection, and she felt it extremely difficult properly to express this feeling, connected as it must be with the overthrow of his dearest hopes. After the most painful embarrassment, she was enabled to answer: "To you, my dear uncle, I have always felt grateful for the more than paternal affection which you have shown to me, and I must feel not less so for the motives which prompted you to undertake the present mission; but with all my affection for yourself and desire to please you, and all my gratitude to Mr. Beverly for the honour which he intended me, I must beg leave to decline his offer."

"Wherefore must you decline it, Virginia?" asked Sir William, with the most evident chagrin and surprise.

"Simply because I cannot reciprocate the affection which I am informed Mr. Beverly entertains for me."