i awoke in broad daylight, and when my wits came back to me, i saw i was in a tent of skins, with my limbs unbound, and a pitcher of water beside me placed by some provident hand. through the tent door i looked over a wide space of green savannah. how i had got there i knew not; but, as my memory repeated the events of the night, i knew i had travelled far, for the sea showed miles away at a great distance beneath me. on the water i saw a ship in full sail, diminished to a toy size, careering northward with the wind.
outside a man was seated whistling a cheerful tune. i got to my feet and staggered out to clear my head in the air, and found the smiling face of ringan.
"good-morning, andrew," he cried, as i sat down beside him. "have you slept well?"
i rubbed my eyes and took long draughts of the morning breeze.
"are you a warlock, mr. campbell, that you can spirit folk about the country at your pleasure? i have slept sound, but my dreams have been bad."
"yes," he said; "what sort of dreams, maybe?"
"i dreamed i was in a wild place among wild men, and that i saw murder done. the look of the man who did it was not unlike your own."
"you have dreamed true," he said gravely; "but you have the wrong word for it. others would call it justice."
"what sort of justice?" said i, "when you had no court or law but just what you made yourself."
"is it not a stiff whiggamore?" he said, looking skywards. "why, man, all justice is what men make themselves. what hinders the free companions from making as honest laws as any cackling council in the towns? did you see the man cosh? have you heard anything of his doings, and will you deny that the world was well quit of him? there's a decency in all trades, and cosh fair stank to heaven. but i'm glad the thing ended as it did. i never get to like a cold execution. 'twas better for everybody that he should fly at my face and get six inches of kindly steel in his throat. he had a gentleman's death, which was more than his crimes warranted."
i was only half convinced. here was i, a law-abiding merchant, pitchforked suddenly into a world of lawlessness. i could not be expected to adjust my views in the short space of a night.
"you gave me a rough handling," i said, "where was the need of it?"
"and you showed very little sense in bursting in on us the way you did! could you not have bided quietly till shalah gave the word? i had to be harsh with you, or they would have suspected something and cut your throat. yon gentry are not to take liberties with. what made you do it, andrew?"
"just that i was black afraid. that made me more feared of being a coward, so i forced myself to yon folly."
"a very honourable reason," he said.
"are you the leader of those men?" i asked. "they looked a scurvy lot.
do you call that a proper occupation for the best blood in
breadalbane?"
it was a silly speech, and i could have bitten my tongue out when i had uttered it. but i was in a vile temper, for the dregs of the negro's rum still hummed in my blood. his face grew dark, till he looked like the man i had seen the night before.
"i allow no man to slight my race," he said in a harsh voice.
"it's the truth whether you like it or not. and you that claimed to be a gentleman! what is it they say about the highlands?" and i quoted a ribald glasgow proverb.
what moved me to this insolence i cannot say, i was in the wrong, and i knew it, but i was too much of a child to let go my silly pride.
ringan got up very quickly and walked three steps. the blackness had gone from his face, and it was puzzled and melancholy.
"there's a precious lot of the bairn in you, mr. garvald," he said, "and an ugly spice of the whiggamore. i would have killed another man for half your words, and i've got to make you pay for them somehow." and he knit his brow and pondered.
"i'm ready," said i, with the best bravado i could muster, though the truth is i was sick at heart. i had forced a quarrel like an ill-mannered boy on the very man whose help i had come to seek. and i saw, too, that i had gone just that bit too far for which no recantation would win pardon.
"what sort of way are you ready?" he asked politely. "you would fight me with your pistols, but you haven't got them, and this is no a matter that will wait. i could spit you in a jiffy with my sword, but it wouldna be fair. it strikes me that you and me are ill matched. we're like a shark and a wolf that cannot meet to fight in the same element."
then he ran his finger down the buttons of his coat, and his eyes were smiling. "we'll try the old way that laddies use on the village green. man, andrew, i'm going to skelp you, as your mother skelped you when you were a breechless bairn," and he tossed his coat on the grass.
i could only follow suit, though i was black ashamed at the whole business. i felt the disgrace of my conduct, and most bitterly the disgrace of the penalty.
my arm was too short to make a fighter of me, and i could only strive to close, that i might get the use of my weight and my great strength of neck and shoulder. ringan danced round me, tapping me lightly on nose and cheek, but hard enough to make the blood flow, i defended myself as best i could, while my temper rose rapidly and made me forget my penitence. time and again i looked for a chance to slip in, but he was as wary as a fox, and was a yard off before i could get my arm round him.
at last in extreme vexation, i lowered my head and rushed blindly for his chest. something like the sails of a windmill smote me on the jaw, and i felt myself falling into a pit of great darkness where little lights twinkled.
the next i knew i was sitting propped against the tent-pole with a cold bandage round my forehead, and ringan with a napkin bathing my face.
"cheer up, man," he cried; "you've got off light, for there's no a scratch on your lily-white cheek, and the blood-letting from the nose will clear out the dregs of moro's hocus."
i blinked a little, and tried to recall what had happened. all my ill-humour had gone, and i was now in a hurry to set myself right with my conscience. he heard my apology with an embarrassed face.
"say no more, andrew. i was as muckle to blame as you, and i've been giving myself some ill names for that last trick. it was ower hard, but, man, the temptation was sore."
he elbowed me to the open air.
"now for the questions you've a right to ask. we of the brethren have not precisely a chief, as you call it, but there are not many of them would gainsay my word. why? you ask. well, it's not for a modest man to be sounding his own trumpet. maybe it's because i'm a gentleman, and there's that in good blood which awes the commonalty. maybe it's because i've no fish of my own to fry. i do not rob for greed, like calvert and williams, or kill for lust, like the departed cosh. to me it's a game, which i play by honest rules. i never laid finger on a bodle's worth of english stuff, and if now and then i ease the dons of a pickle silver or send a frenchman or two to purgatory, what worse am i doing than his majesty's troops in flanders, or your black frigates that lie off port royal? if i've a clear conscience i can more easily take order with those that are less single-minded. but maybe the chief reason is that i've some little skill of arms, so that the lad that questions me is apt to fare like cosh."
there was a kind of boastful sincerity about the man which convinced me. but his words put me in mind of my own business.
"i came seeking you to ask help. your friends have been making too free with my belongings. i would never complain if it were the common risk of my trade, but i have a notion that there's some sort of design behind it." then i told him of my strife with the english merchants.
"what are your losses?" he asked.
"the ayr brig was taken off cape charles, and burned to the water. god help the poor souls in her, for i fear they perished."
he nodded. "i know. that was one of cosh's exploits. he has paid by now for that and other things."
"two of my ships were chased through the capes and far up the tidewater of the james not two months back," i went on.
he laughed. "i did that myself," he said.
astonishment and wrath filled me, but i finished my tale.
"a week ago there was a ship ashore on accomac. pirates boarded her, but they took nothing away save a sum of gold that was mine. was that your doing also, mr. campbell?"
"yes," he said; "but the money's safe. i'll give you a line to mercer, and he'll pay it you."
"i'm much obliged to you, mr. campbell," i said, choking with anger. "but who, in heaven's name, asked you to manage my business? i thought you were my friend, and i came to you as such, and here i find you the chief among my enemies."
"patience, andrew," he said, "and i'll explain everything, for i grant you it needs some explaining. first, you are right about the english merchants. they and the free companions have long had an understanding, and word was sent by them to play tricks on your ships. i was absent at the time, and though the thing was dirty work, as any one could see, some of the fools thought it a fair ploy, and cosh was suffered to do his will. when i got back i heard the story, and was black angry, so i took the matter into my own keeping. i have ways and means of getting the news of virginia, and i know pretty well what you have been doing, young one. there's spirit in you and some wise notions, but you want help in the game. besides, there's a bigger thing before you. so i took steps to bring you here."
"you took a roundabout road," said i, by no means appeased.
"it had to be. d'you think i could come marching into james town and collogue with you in your counting-house? now that you're here, you have my sworn word that the free companions will never lay hand again on your ventures. will that content you?"
"it will," i said; "but you spoke of a bigger thing before me."
"yes, and that's the price you are going to pay me for my goodwill. it's what the lawyers call consideratio for our bargain, and it's the reason i brought you here. tell me, andrew, d'you ken a man frew who lives on the south fork river?" "a north ireland fellow, with a hatchet face and a big scar? i saw him a year ago."
"it stuck in my mind that you had. and d'you mind the advice he gave you?"
i remembered it very well, for it was frew who had clinched my views on the defencelessness of our west. "he spoke god's truth," i said, "but i cannot get a virginian to believe it."
"they'll believe in time," he said, "though maybe too late to save some of their scalps. come to this hillock, and i will show you something."
from the low swell of ground we looked west to some little hills, and in the hollow of them a spire of smoke rose into the blue.
"i'm going to take you there, that you may hear and see something to your profit. quick, moro," he cried to a servant. "bring food, and have the horses saddled."
we breakfasted on some very good beefsteaks, and started at a canter for the hills. my headache had gone, and i was now in a contented frame of mind; for i saw the purpose of my errand accomplished, and i had a young man's eagerness to know what lay before me. as we rode ringan talked.
"you'll have heard tell of bacon's rising in '76? governor berkeley had ridden the dominion with too harsh a hand, and in the matter of its defence against the indians he was slack when he should have been tight. the upshot was that nathaniel bacon took up the job himself, and after giving the indians their lesson, turned his mind to the government of virginia. he drove berkeley into accomac, and would have turned the whole place tapsalteery if he had not suddenly died of a bowel complaint. after that berkeley and his tame planters got the upper hand, and there were some pretty homings and hangings. there were two men that were lieutenants to bacon, and maybe put the notion into his head. one was james drummond, a cousin of my own mother's, and he got the gallows for his trouble. the other was a man richard lawrence, a fine scholar, and a grand hand at planning, though a little slow in a fight. he kept the ordinary at james town, and was the one that collected the powder and kindled the fuse. governor berkeley had a long score to settle with him, but he never got him, for when the thing was past hope mr. richard rode west one snowy night to the hills, and virginia saw him no more. they think he starved in the wilderness, or got into the hands of the wild indians, and is long ago dead."
i knew all about dick lawrence, for i had heard the tale twenty times. "but surely they're right," i said, "it's fifteen years since any man had word of him."
"well, you'll see him within an hour," said ringan, "it's a queer story, but it seems he fell in with a monacan war party, and since he and bacon had been fighting their deadly foes, the susquehannocks, they treated him well, and brought him south into carolina. you must know, andrew, that all this land hereaways, except for the little algonquin villages on the shore, is sioux country, with as many tribes as there are houses in clan campbell. but cheek by jowl is a long strip held by the tuscaroras, a murdering lot of devils, of whom you and i'll get news sooner than we want. the tuscaroras are bad enough in themselves, but the worst part is that all the back country in the hills belongs to their cousins the cherokees, and god knows how far north their sway holds. the long house of the iroquois controls everything west of the coast land from carolina away up through virginia to new york and the canadas. that means that virginia has on two sides the most powerful tribes of savages in the world, and if ever the iroquois found a general and made a common attack things would go ill with the tidewater. i tell you that so that you can understand lawrence's doings. he hates the iroquois like hell, and so he likes their enemies. he has lived for fifteen years among the sioux, whiles with the catawbas, whiles with the manahoacs, but mostly with the monacans. we of the free companions see him pretty often, and bring him the news and little comforts, like good tobacco and eau de vie, that he cannot get among savages. and we carry messages between him and the tidewater, for he has many friends still alive there. there's no man ever had his knowledge of indians, and i'm taking you to him, for he has something to tell you."
by this time we had come to a place where a fair-sized burn issued from a shallow glen in the savannah. there was a peeled wand stuck in a burnt tree above the water, and this ringan took and broke very carefully into two equal pieces, and put them back in the hole. from this point onwards i had the feeling that the long grass and the clumps of bushes held watchers. they made no noise, but i could have sworn to the truth of my notion. ringan, whose senses were keener than mine, would stop every now and again and raise his hand as if in signal. at one place we halted dead for five minutes, and at another he dismounted and cut a tuft of sumach, which he laid over his saddle. then at the edge of a thicket he stopped again, and held up both hands above his head. instantly a tall indian stepped from the cover, saluted, and walked by our side. in five minutes more we rounded a creek of the burn and were at the encampment.
'twas the first time i had ever seen an indian village. the tents, or teepees, were of skins stretched over poles, and not of bark, like those of the woodland tribes. at a great fire in the centre women were grilling deer's flesh, while little brown children strove and quarrelled for scraps, i saw few men, for the braves were out hunting or keeping watch at the approaches. one young lad took the horses, and led us to a teepee bigger than the others, outside of which stood a finely-made savage, with heron's feathers in his hair, and a necklace of polished shells. on his iron face there was no flicker of welcome or recognition, but he shook hands silently with the two of us, and struck a blow on a dry gourd. instantly three warriors appeared, and took their place by his side. then all of us sat down and a pipe was lit and handed by the chief to ringan. he took a puff and gave it to one of the other indians, who handed it to me. with that ceremony over, the tongue of the chief seemed to be unloosed. "the sachem comes," he said, and an old man sat himself down beside us.
he was a strange figure to meet in an indian camp. a long white beard hung down to his middle, and his unshorn hair draped his shoulders like a fleece. his clothing was of tanned skin, save that he had a belt of spanish leather, and on his feet he wore country shoes and not the indian moccasins. the eyes in his head were keen and youthful, and though he could not have been less than sixty he carried himself with the vigour of a man in his prime. below his shaggy locks was a high, broad forehead, such as some college professor might have borne who had given all his days to the philosophies. he seemed to have been disturbed in reading, for he carried in his hand a little book with a finger marking his place. i caught a glimpse of the title, and saw that it was mr. locke's new "essay on the human understanding."
ringan spoke to the chief in his own tongue, but the sioux language was beyond me. mr. lawrence joined in, and i saw the indian's eyes kindle. he shook his head, and seemed to deny something. then he poured forth a flood of talk, and when he had finished ringan spoke to me.
"he says that the tuscaroras are stirring. word has come down from the hills to be ready for a great ride between the moon of stags and the corngathering."
lawrence nodded. "that's an old tuscarora habit; but somehow these ridings never happen." he said something in sioux to one of the warriors, and got an emphatic answer, which he translated to me. "he thinks that the cherokees have had word from farther north. it looks like a general stirring of the long house."
"is it the fighting in canada?" i asked.
"god knows," he said, "but i don't think so. if that were the cause we should have the iroquois pushed down on the top of the cherokees. but my information is that the cherokees are to move north themselves, and then down to the tidewater. it is not likely that the five nations have any plan of conquering the lowlands. they're a hill people, and they know the white man's mettle too well. my notion is that some devilry is going on in the west, and i might guess that there's a white man in it." he spoke to the chief, who spoke again to his companion, and lawrence listened with contracting brows, while ringan whistled between his teeth.
"they've got a queer story," said lawrence at last. "they say that when last they hunted on the roanoke their young men brought a tale that a tribe of cherokees, who lived six days' journey into the hills, had found a great sachem who had the white man's magic, and that god was moving him to drive out the palefaces and hold his hunting lodge in their dwellings. that is not like an ordinary indian lie. what do you make of it, mr. campbell?"
ringan looked grave, "it's possible enough. there's a heap of renegades among the tribes, men that have made the tidewater and even the free companies too warm for them. there's no knowing the mischief a strong-minded rascal might work. i mind a man at norfolk, a scots redemptioner, who had the tongue of a devil and the strength of a wolf. he broke out one night and got clear into the wilderness."
lawrence turned to me briskly. "you see the case, sir. there's trouble brewing in the hills, black trouble for virginia, but we've some months' breathing space. for nat bacon's sake, i'm loath to see the war paint at james town. the question is, are you willing to do your share?"
"i'm willing enough," i said, "but what can i do? i'm not exactly a popular character in the tidewater. if you want me to hammer sense into the planters, you could not get a worse man for the job. i have told governor nicholson my fears, and he is of my opinion, but his hands are tied by a penurious council. if he cannot screw money for troops out of the virginians, it's not likely that i could do much."
lawrence nodded his wise head. "all you say is true, but i want a different kind of service from you. you may have noticed in your travels, mr. garvald—for they tell me you are not often out of the saddle—that up and down the land there's a good few folk that are not very easy in their minds. many of these are former troopers of bacon, some are new men who have eyes in their heads, some are old settlers who have been soured by the folly of the government. with such poor means as i possess i keep in touch with these gentlemen, and in them we have the rudiments of a frontier army. i don't say they are many; but five hundred resolute fellows, well horsed and well armed, and led by some man who knows the indian ways, might be a stumbling-block in the way of an iroquois raid. but to perfect this force needs time, and, above all, it needs a man on the spot; for virginia is not a healthy place for me, and these savannahs are a trifle distant, i want a man in james town who will receive word when i send it, and pass it onto those who should hear it, i want a discreet man, whose trade takes him about the country. mr. campbell tells me you are such an one. will you accept the charge?"
i was greatly flattered, but a little perplexed. "i'm a law-abiding citizen," i said, "and i can have no hand in rebellions. i've no ambition to play bacon's part."
lawrence smiled. "a proof of your discretion, sir. but believe me, there is no thought of rebellion. we have no quarrel with the council and less with his majesty's governor. we but seek to set the house in order against perils which we alone know fully, i approve of your scruples, and i give you my word they shall not be violated."
"so be it," i said, "i will do what i can."
"god be praised," said mr. lawrence, "i have here certain secret papers which will give you the names of the men we can trust. messages will come to you, which i trust you to find the means of sending on. mercer has our confidence, and will arrange with you certain matters of arms. he will also supply you with what money is needed. there are many in the tidewater who would look askance at this business, so it must be done in desperate secrecy; but if there should be trouble i counsel you to play a bold hand with the governor. they tell me that you and he are friendly, and, unless i mistake the man, he can see reason if he is wisely handled. if the worst comes to the worst, you can take nicholson into your confidence."
"how long have we to prepare?" i asked.
"the summer months, according to my forecast. it may be shorter or longer, but i will know better when i get nearer the hills."
"and what about the carolina tribes?" i asked. "if we are to hold the western marches of virginia, we cannot risk being caught on the flank."
"that can be arranged," he said. "our friends the sioux are not over-fond of the long house. if the tuscaroras ride, i do not think they will ever reach the james."
the afternoon was now ending, and we were given a meal of corn-cakes and roast deer's flesh. then we took our leave, and mr. lawrence's last word to me was to send him any english books of a serious cast which came under my eye. this request he made with so much hesitation, but with so hungry a desire in his face, that i was moved to pity this ill-fated scholar, wandering in indian lodges, and famished for lack of the society of his kind.
ringan took me by a new way which bore north of that we had ridden, and though the dusk began soon to fall, he never faltered in his guiding. presently we left the savannah for the woods of the coast, and, dropping down hill by a very meagre path, we came in three hours to a creek of the sea. there by a little fire we found shalah, and the sloop riding at anchor below a thick covert of trees.
"good-bye to you, andrew," cried ringan. "you'll be getting news of me soon, and maybe see me in the flesh on the tidewater. remember the word i told you in the saltmarket, for i never mention names when i take the road."
