i had not been a week in the place before i saw one thing very clear— that i should never get on with mr. lambie. his notion of business was to walk down the street in a fine coat, and to sleep with a kerchief over his face in some shady veranda. there was no vice in the creature, but there was mighty little sense. he lived in awe of the great and rich, and a nod from a big planter would make him happy for a week. he used to deafen me with tales of colonel randolph, and worshipful mr. carew, and colonel byrd's new house at westover, and the rare fashion in cravats that young mr. mason showed at the last surrey horse-racing. now when a scot chooses to be a sycophant, he is more whole-hearted in the job than any one else on the globe, and i grew very weary of mr. lambie. he was no better than an old wife, and as timid as a hare forbye. when i spoke of fighting the english merchants, he held up his hands as if i had uttered blasphemy. so, being determined to find out for myself the truth about this wonderful new land, i left him the business in the town, bought two good horses, hired a servant, by name john faulkner, who had worked out his time as a redemptioner, and set out on my travels.
this is a history of doings, not of thoughts, or i would have much to tell of what i saw during those months, when, lean as a bone, and brown as a hazelnut, i tracked the course of the great rivers. the roads were rough, where roads there were, but the land smiled under the sun, and the virginians, high and low, kept open house for the chance traveller. one night i would eat pork and hominy with a rough fellow who was carving a farm out of the forest; and the next i would sit in a fine panelled hall and listen to gentlefolks' speech, and dine off damask and silver. i could not tire of the green forests, or the marshes alive with wild fowl, or the noble orchards and gardens, or even the salty dunes of the chesapeake shore. my one complaint was that the land was desperate flat to a hill-bred soul like mine. but one evening, away north in stafford county, i cast my eyes to the west, and saw, blue and sharp against the sunset, a great line of mountains. it was all i sought. somewhere in the west virginia had her high lands, and one day, i promised myself, i would ride the road of the sun and find their secret.
in these months my thoughts were chiefly of trade, and i saw enough to prove the truth of what the man frew had told me. this richest land on earth was held prisoner in the bonds of a foolish tyranny. the rich were less rich than their estates warranted, and the poor were ground down by bitter poverty. there was little corn in the land, tobacco being the sole means of payment, and this meant no trade in the common meaning of the word. the place was slowly bleeding to death, and i had a mind to try and stanch its wounds. the firm of andrew sempill was looked on jealously, in spite of all the bowings and protestations of mr. lambie. if we were to increase our trade, it must be at the englishman's expense, and that could only be done by offering the people a better way of business.
when the harvest came and the tobacco fleet arrived, i could see how the thing worked out. our two ships, the blackcock of ayr and the duncan davidson of glasgow, had some trouble getting their cargoes. we could only deal with the smaller planters, who were not thirled to the big merchants, and it took us three weary weeks up and down the river-side wharves to get our holds filled. there was a madness in the place for things from england, and unless a man could label his wares "london-made," he could not hope to catch a buyer's fancy. why, i have seen a fellow at a fair at henricus selling common virginian mocking-birds as the "best english mocking-birds". my uncle had sent out a quantity of ayrshire cheeses, mutton hams, pickled salmon, dunfermline linens, paisley dimity, alloa worsted, sweet ale from tranent, kilmarnock cowls, and a lot of fine feather-beds from the clydeside. there was nothing common or trashy in the whole consignment; but the planters preferred some gewgaws from cheapside or some worthless london furs which they could have bettered any day by taking a gun and hunting their own woods. when my own business was over, i would look on at some of the other ladings. there on the wharf would be the planter with his wife and family, and every servant about the place. and there was the merchant skipper, showing off his goods, and quoting for each a weight of tobacco. the planter wanted to get rid of his crop, and knew that this was his only chance, while the merchant could very well sell his leavings elsewhere. so the dice were cogged from the start, and i have seen a plain kitchen chair sold for fifty pounds of sweet-scented, or something like the price at which a joiner in glasgow would make a score and leave himself a handsome profit.
the upshot was that i paid a visit to the governor, mr. francis nicholson, whom my lord howard had left as his deputy. governor nicholson had come from new york not many months before with a great repute for ill-temper and harsh dealing; but i liked the look of his hard-set face and soldierly bearing, and i never mind choler in a man if he have also honesty and good sense. so i waited upon him at his house close by middle plantation, on the road between james town and york river.
i had a very dusty reception. his excellency sat in his long parlour among a mass of books and papers and saddle-bags, and glared at me from beneath lowering brows. the man was sore harassed by the king's government on one side and the virginian council on the other, and he treated every stranger as a foe.
"what do you seek from me?" he shouted. "if it is some merchants' squabble, you can save your breath, for i am sick of the shylocks."
i said, very politely, that i was a stranger not half a year arrived in the country, but that i had been using my eyes, and wished to submit my views to his consideration.
"go to the council," he rasped; "go to that silken fool, his majesty's attorney. my politics are not those of the leather-jaws that prate in this land."
"that is why i came to you," i said.
then without more ado i gave him my notions on the defence of the colony, for from what i had learned i judged that would interest him most. he heard me with unexpected patience.
"well, now, supposing you are right? i don't deny it. virginia is a treasure house with two of the sides open to wind and weather. i told the council that, and they would not believe me. here are we at war with france, and frontenac is hammering at the gates of new york. if that falls, it will soon be the turn of maryland and next of virginia. england's possessions in the west are indivisible, and what threatens one endangers all. but think you our virginians can see it? when i presented my scheme for setting forts along the northern line, i could not screw a guinea out of the miscreants. the colony was poor, they cried, and could not afford it, and then the worshipful councillors rode home to swill madeira and loll on their london beds. god's truth! were i not a patriot, i would welcome m. frontenac to teach them decency."
now i did not think much of the french danger being far more concerned with the peril in the west; but i held my peace on that subject. it was not my cue to cross his excellency in his present humour.
"what makes the colony poor?" i asked. "the planters are rich enough, but the richest man will grow tired of bearing the whole burden of the government. i submit that his majesty and the english laws are chiefly to blame. when the hollanders were suffered to trade here, they paid five shillings on every anker of brandy they brought hither, and ten shillings on every hogshead of tobacco they carried hence. now every penny that is raised must come out of the virginians, and the englishmen who bleed the land go scot free."
"that's true," said he, "and it's a damned disgrace. but how am i to better it?"
"clap a tax on every ship that passes point comfort outward bound," i said. "the merchants can well afford to pay it."
"listen to him!" he laughed. "and what kind of answer would i get from my lord howard and his majesty? every greasy member would be on his feet in parliament in defence of what he called english rights. then there would come a dispatch from the government telling the poor deputy-governor of virginia to go to the devil!"
he looked at me curiously, screwing up his eyes.
"by the way, mr. garvald, what is your trade?"
"i am a merchant like the others," i said; "only my ships run from
glasgow instead of bristol."
"a very pretty merchant," he said quizzically. "i have heard that hawks should not pick out hawks' eyes. what do you propose to gain, mr. garvald?"
"better business," i said. "to be honest with you, sir, i am suffering from the close monopoly of the englishman, and i think the country is suffering worse. i have a notion that things can be remedied. if you cannot put on a levy, good and well; that is your business. but i mean to make an effort on my own account."
then i told him something of my scheme, and he heard me out with a puzzled face.
"of all the brazen scots—" he cried.
"scot yourself," i laughed, for his face and speech betrayed him.
"i'll not deny that there's glimmerings of sense in you, mr. garvald. but how do you, a lad with no backing, propose to beat a strong monopoly buttressed by the whole stupidity and idleness of virginia? you'll be stripped of your last farthing, and you'll be lucky if it ends there. don't think i'm against you. i'm with you in your principles, but the job is too big for you."
"we will see," said i. "but i can take it that, provided i keep within the law, his majesty's governor will not stand in my way?"
"i can promise you that. i'll do more, for i'll drink success to your enterprise." he filled me a great silver tankard of spiced sack, and i emptied it to the toast of "honest men."
all the time at the back of my head were other thoughts than merchandise. the picture which frew had drawn of virginia as a smiling garden on the edge of a burning pit was stamped on my memory. i had seen on my travels the indians that dwelled in the tidewater, remnants of the old great clans of doeg and powhatan and pamunkey. they were civil enough fellows, following their own ways, and not molesting their scanty white neighbours, for the country was wide enough for all. but so far as i could learn, these clanlets of the algonquin house were no more comparable to the fighting tribes of the west than a highland caddie in an edinburgh close is to a hill macdonald with a claymore. but the common virginian would admit no peril, though now and then some rough landward fellow would lay down his spade, spit moodily, and tell me a grim tale. i had ever the notion to visit frew and finish my education.
it was not till the tobacco ships had gone and the autumn had grown late that i got the chance. the trees were flaming scarlet and saffron as i rode west through the forests to his house on the south fork river. there, by a wood fire in the october dusk, he fed me on wild turkey and barley bread, and listened silently to my tale.
he said nothing when i spoke of my schemes for getting the better of the englishman and winning virginia to my side. profits interested him little, for he grew his patch of corn and pumpkins, and hunted the deer for his own slender needs. once he broke in on my rigmarole with a piece of news that fluttered me.
"you mind the big man you were chasing that night you and me first forgathered? well, i've seen him."
"where?" i cried, all else forgotten.
"here, in this very place, six weeks syne. he stalked in about ten o' the night, and lifted half my plenishing. when i got up in my bed to face him he felled me. see, there's the mark of it," and he showed a long scar on his forehead. "he went off with my best axe, a gill of brandy, and a good coat. he was looking for my gun, too, but that was in a hidy-hole. i got up next morning with a dizzy head, and followed him nigh ten miles. i had a shot at him, but i missed, and his legs were too long for me. yon's the dangerous lad."
"where did he go, think you?" i asked.
"to the hills. to the refuge of every ne'er-do-weel. belike the indians have got his scalp, and i'm not regretting it."
i spent three days with frew, and each day i had the notion that he was putting me to the test. the first day he took me over the river into a great tangle of meadow and woodland beyond which rose the hazy shapes of the western mountains. the man was twenty years my elder, but my youth was of no avail against his iron strength. though i was hard and spare from my travels in the summer heat, 'twas all i could do to keep up with him, and only my pride kept me from crying halt. often when he stopped i could have wept with fatigue, and had no breath for a word, but his taciturnity saved me from shame.
in a hollow among the woods we came to a place which sent him on his knees, peering and sniffing like a wild-cat.
"what make you of that?" he asked.
i saw nothing but a bare patch in the grass, some broken twigs, and a few ashes.
"it's an old camp," i said.
"ay," said he. "nothing more? use your wits, man."
i used them, but they gave me no help.
"this is the way i read it, then," he said. "three men camped here before midday. they were cherokees, of the matabaw tribe, and one was a maker of arrows. they were not hunting, and they were in a mighty hurry. just now they're maybe ten miles off, or maybe they're watching us. this is no healthy country for you and me."
he took me homeward at a speed which well-nigh foundered me, and, when
i questioned him, he told me where he got his knowledge.
they were three men, for there were three different footmarks in the ashes' edge, and they were cherokees because they made their fire in the cherokee way, so that the smoke ran in a tunnel into the scrub. they were matabaws from the pattern of their moccasins. they were in a hurry, for they did not wait to scatter the ashes and clear up the place; and they were not hunting, for they cooked no flesh. one was an arrow-maker, for he had been hardening arrow-points in the fire, and left behind him the arrow-maker's thong.
"but how could you know how long back this had happened?" i asked.
"the sap was still wet in the twigs, so it could not have been much above an hour since they left. besides, the smoke had blown south, for the grass smelt of it that side. now the wind was more to the east when we left, and, if you remember, it changed to the north about midday."
i said it was a marvel, and he grunted. "the marvel is what they've been doing in the tidewater, for from the tidewater i'll swear they came."
next day he led me eastward, away back in the direction of the manors. this was an easier day, for he went slow, as if seeking for something. he picked up some kind of a trail, which we followed through the long afternoon. then he found something, which he pocketed with a cry of satisfaction. we were then on the edge of a ridge, whence we looked south to the orchards of henricus.
"that is my arrow-maker," he cried, showing me a round stone whorl. "he's a careless lad, and he'll lose half his belongings ere he wins to the hills."
i was prepared for the wild cherokees on our journey of yesterday, but it amazed me that the savages should come scouting into the tidewater itself. he smiled grimly when i said this, and took from his pocket a crumpled feather.
"that's a cherokee badge," he said. "i found that a fortnight back on the river-side an hour's ride out of james town. and it wasna there when i had passed the same place the day before. the tidewater thinks it has put the fear of god on the hill tribes, and here's a red cherokee snowking about its back doors."
the last day he took me north up a stream called the north fork, which joined with his own river. i had left my musket behind, for this heavy travel made me crave to go light, and i had no use for it. but that day it seemed we were to go hunting.
he carried an old gun, and slew with it a deer in a marshy hollow—a pretty shot, for the animal was ill-placed. we broiled a steak for our midday meal, and presently clambered up a high woody ridge which looked down on a stream and a piece of green meadow.
suddenly he stopped. "a buck," he whispered. "see what you can do, you that were so ready with your pistol." and he thrust his gun into my hand.
the beast was some thirty paces off in the dusk of the thicket. it nettled me to have to shoot with a strange weapon, and i thought too lightly of the mark. i fired, and the bullet whistled over its back. he laughed scornfully.
i handed it back to him. "it throws high, and you did not warn me. load quick, and i'll try again."
i heard the deer crashing through the hill-side thicket, and guessed that presently it would come out in the meadow. i was right, and before the gun was in my hands again the beast was over the stream.
it was a long range and a difficult mark, but i had to take the risk, for i was on my trial. i allowed for the throw of the musket and the steepness of the hill, and pulled the trigger. the shot might have been better, for i had aimed for the shoulder, and hit the neck. the buck leaped into the air, ran three yards, and toppled over. by the grace of god, i had found the single chance in a hundred.
frew looked at me with sincere respect. "that's braw shooting," he said. "i can't say i ever saw its equal."
that night in the smoky cabin he talked freely for once. "i never had a wife or bairn, and i lean on no man. i can fend for myself, and cook my dinner, and mend my coat when it's wanting it. when bacon died i saw what was coming to this land, and i came here to await it. i've had some sudden calls from the red gentry, but they havena got me yet, and they'll no get me before my time. i'm in the lord's hands, and he has a job for simon frew. go back to your money-bags, mr. garvald. beat the english merchants, my lad, and take my blessing with you. but keep that gun of yours by your bedside, for the time is coming when a man's hands will have to keep his head."
