The Kingdom on the Waves Page 9

  Across the Charles, the calamity was bright and confusing.

  They had, in impudence, chosen this night, the night of our festive lampoon, for their attack, knowing our officers engaged in the drama; there could be little question of that.

  And ’twas as if one said to me, Play as you will. Elsewhere, the battle commences. Play your sweet tunes, boy, and stay away from the business of men. Forget justice, for you have what you desired.

  I peered across the Charles. My palms wanted detonation. I held out my hands toward the minute battle, and yearned to feel the full shock of the blast, to tear away at the enemy’s vile obstinacy, which kept us corralled; to feel the full eruption of justice visited upon them.

  There could be no safety, no repose but illusory while such deeds went on in darkness.

  I smellt the smoke blown through the black air.

  We later heard that Major Knowlton of the rebels had led two hundred men to Charlestown to assault it; they making their way across the mill-dam. They burned houses that night, killed one man, and took five prisoners.

  I know only that I looked across the houses, inlets, and isles of my youth, and was sensible that I had to leave them behind. There was staged a great transformation in the world, and when ’twas done, nothing would be as it had been; and nor could I be. We must lay aside one thing to grasp another.

  I stood upon the flashing of the roof, and watched the houses burn.

  A week later, we gathered to rehearse Mr. Arne’s music for Zara, which play would be staged by Major-General Burgoyne. Indeed, there was fine melody; indeed, there was counterpoint well worked; the dances were the very type of grace and elegance; but I little relished them.

  So soon as we were dismissed, I sought out the bassoonist who had spake to Sip and me of Dunmore. “Sir,” said I, “sir, a small matter . . .”

  We held our conference in the marketplace, near a gang of children playing at some game, clouting their friends with rope.

  “Sir,” I entreated, “I wish to know what happens to the south.”

  “The south,” said the bassoonist.

  “The matter we spake on in the manufactory.”

  He nodded. “I have the best of news,” said he. “You ain’t heard?”

  “I have not.”

  “You will like this some,” said he.

  “Indeed,” I said, my heart fair jumping into my mouth.

  He smiled. “Heard it day before yesterday.”

  I asked him to tell me; and tell me he did.

  By His EXCELLENCY the Right Honorable JOHN Earl of DUNMORE, HIS MAJESTY’S LIEUTENANT and GOVERNOR GENERAL of the Colony and Dominion of VIRGINIA, and VICE ADMIRAL of the same,

  A PROCLAMATION.

  I have ever entertained Hopes that an Accommodation might have taken Place between GREAT-BRITAIN and this Colony, without being compelled by my Duty to this most disagreeable but now absolutely necessary Step, rendered so by a Body of armed Men unlawfully assembled, firing on His MAJESTY’S Tenders, and the formation of an Army, and that Army now on the March to attack His MAJESTY’S Troops and destroy the well disposed Subjects of this Colony. To defeat such treasonable Purposes, and that all such Traitors and their Abettors, may be brought to Justice, and that the Peace, and good Order of this Colony may be again restored, which the ordinary Course of the Civil Law is unable to effect; I have thought fit to issue this my Proclamation, hereby declaring, that until the aforesaid good Purposes can be obtained, I do in Virtue of the Power and Authority to ME given by His MAJESTY, determine to execute Martial Law, and cause the same to be executed throughout this Colony: and to the End that Peace and good Order may the sooner be restored, I do require every Person capable of bearing Arms, to resort to His MAJESTY’S S T A N D A R D, or be looked upon as Traitors to His MAJESTY’S Crown and Government, and thereby become liable to the Penalty the Law inflicts upon such Offences; such as forfeiture of Life, confiscation of Lands, &c. &c. And I do hereby further declare all indentured Servants, Negroes, or others, (appertaining to Rebels,) free that are able and willing to bear Arms, they joining His MAJESTY’S Troops as soon as may be, for the more speedily reducing this Colony to a proper Sense of its Duty to His MAJESTY’S Crown and Dignity.

  GIVEN under my Hand on board the Ship WILLIAM, off NORFOLK, the 7th Day of NOVEMBER, in the SIXTEENTH Year of His MAJESTY’S Reign.

  DUNMORE.

  (GOD save the KING.)

  [An open letter from Patrick Henry, Virginian Patriot. He had recently led a force against Governor Dunmore.]

  SIR,

  As the Committee of Safety is not sitting, I take the Liberty to enclose you a Copy of the Proclamation issued by Lord Dunmore; the Design and Tendency of which, you will observe, is fatal to the publick Safety. An early and unremitting Attention to the Government of the S L A V E S may, I hope, counteract this dangerous Attempt. Constant, and well directed Patrols, seem indespensibly necessary. I doubt not of every possible Exertion, in your Power, for the publick Good; and have the Honour to be, Sir,

  Your most obedient and very humble Servant,

  P. Henry.

  HEAD QUARTERS, WILLIAMSBURG,

  November 20, 1775.

  VIRGINIA, December 14, 1775.

  By the REPRESENTATIVES of the PEOPLE of the Colony and Dominion of VIRGINIA, assembled in GENERAL CONVENTION.

  A DECLARATION.

  WHEREAS Lord Dunmore, by his Proclamation, dated on board the ship William, off Norfolk, the 7th day of November 1775, hath offered freedom to such able-bodied Slaves as are willing to join him, and take up arms against the good people of this Colony, giving thereby encouragement to a general insurrection, which may induce a necessity of inflicting the severest punishments upon those unhappy people, already deluded by his base and insidious arts; and whereas, by an act of the General Assembly now in force in this Colony, it is enacted, that all negro or other slaves, conspiring to rebel or make insurrection, shall suffer death, and be excluded all benefit of clergy: We think it proper to declare that all slaves who have been, or shall be, seduced by His Lordship’s Proclamation, or other arts, to desert their master’s service, and take up arms against the inhabitants of this Colony, shall be liable to such punishment as shall hereafter be directed by the General Convention. And to the end that all such who have taken this unlawful and wicked step may return in safety to their duty, and escape the punishment due to their crimes, we hereby promise pardon to them, they surrendering themselves to Colonel William Woodford, or any other commander of our Troops, and not appearing in arms after the publication hereof. And we do further earnestly recommend it to all humane and benevolent persons in this Colony to explain and make known this our offer of mercy to those unfortunate people.

  EDMUND PENDLETON, President.

  [A letter from Dr. John Trefusis to Dr. Matthias Fruhling of Philadelphia]

  The Marvel Frigate

  November 18th, 1775

  SIR —

  “‘Nunc, o lecta manus, validis incumbite remis; tollite, ferte rates, inimicam findite rostris hanc terram, sulcumque sibi premat ipsa carina. Frangere nec tali puppim statione recuso arrepta tellure semel!’”1

  1 “Now, my chosen men, draw hard upon your oars; lift the prow, drive our ship ashore on the beaches of the enemy, cleave a furrow in the foe’s land. So long as we find a safe foothold there, who cares if our ship founders on the shore?”— Virgil, Æneid, Book X [Editor’s note]

  “Friskish dotard,” thou criest —“why dost plunge into thy letter so?” Indeed, sir, say I, for I am awash on the seas of chance and giddy with their heaving — and thus I spew. A packet on its route north passes this skirling barque, and I shall hand this billet off to one I pray shall deliver it unto thee, most generous friend, so thou mightst convey to thy brethren at the American Philosophical Society the startling word of what new experiments here transpire.

  I head now for the Virginia Colony in the company of my quondam charge, the Negro boy Octavian — in which country, he avow
eth, he shall rise in arms against the vile practice of slavery. “Sir —,” thou protesteth, “seaborne? How now?” To which my answer is, Oh pish, sir, ’tis a tale of poison, escape, and desperate flight; surely of no interest to thee.

  There is aboard this ship a spirit of expectation which delights the heart as it vivifies the senses. My boy Octavian, having spent some days abed, never having traveled upon the water before, so that his vitals were involved in uproar, now prowls about the decks impatient of our destination. Ah, ye gods! It makes me long for youth and fire. I come to the end of things, dear friend, and he waxes mickle; my tides have gone slack and flaccid, while his swell newly to proxigean spring and rush through the gut.

  He doth not yet know that he must someday die; which oft is the key to immortality.

  By such potent ignorance, all may be changed.

  Thou mayst report to the Philosophical Society that the child’s education continues, though he is delivered out of the shackles of Gitney and Sharpe. The experiment now rests in Octavian’s hands. I instruct him in epistemics, and he learns his own lessons in government. He has a little book, in which he intends to keep a maritime diary, which I trust shall be a record of great moment, when viewed with the hindsight of years. He that would triumph over the petty trickery of fate must indite history at its source.

  In one respect, I regret, his education has ceased: Thou mayst recall he was a prodigious fiddler; and of late, circumstance hath allowed him to borrow a violin of a gentleman of Boston, and fate bade him play it. But with our departure for the south, which I have arranged comformably with the boy’s ardent wishes, that instrument was left with its owner; and I can observe the boy’s yearning for the bow and catgut, those his solace and his song, his very boon companions.

  Our voyage south, though fraught with fear of foul weather and pert rebel brigandage, hath passed without incident; the shore for the last several days being but a collection of miserable hovels, forests hacked to their roots, a smoldering field in New Jersey, and meager cattle. We are anchored tonight off the coast of Delaware, where there stands, on the bank, a great ironworks — a bloomery and slitting mill — all cold and neglected. This evening, we meeting with the packet bound for New-York from Virginia, we halted for exchange — and have received most startling intelligence — which I hasten to scrawl to you, though I keenly want Mercury’s marvelous avian sandals to deliver it with greater expedition than lazy water.

  We have for some time heard tales of Lord Dunmore; that he hath fled his palace; that he sitteth enthroned upon a ship-of-war, the ground itself having grown too hot for him to walk upon. We have heard that he threatened a general manumission of the slaves and to burn Williamsburg in one great conflagration; and that many Negroes were fled to him, and that he sent out raids through all the rivers and their convolutions to seize upon chicken, duck, and beef for his Marines, and to punish those would not swear loyalty to the King.

  But now such things are heard — of which thou shalt, i’faith, get fuller news on this same packet: Dunmore hath fought his first great battle at a place near Norfolk. The rebel militia, hearing that Dunmore approached with a force, set an ambush to trap him; but seeing our grenadiers of the 14th marching relentlessly upon them, the cowards could not withstand the loft of bearskin and the rattle of shot — and either ran, or were taken. And this is the delight: Both the rebels’ commanding colonels were put in irons; and one — I recall not his name — was captured by two of his own former slaves, who found him hid cowering in a swamp. Dies mirabilis!2

  2 “Miraculous day!” [Editor’s note]

  This victory hath heartened those upon this frigate greatly. Dunmore’s situation, though uncomfortable, may prove now to yield to scenes of more perfect success; for though his colony is in disorganization and the rebellion there flagrant, still, his force hath shown itself formidable and only gains in adherents — for indeed, indeed, Dunmore hath carried out his rumored design, and offered freedom to all Negroes such as will desert their rebel masters and list in his cause. He hath formed a Regiment. Already, there are hundreds have flocked to his standard — and have taken up arms — and are gratified with the name of Lord Dunmore’s Royal Ethiopians. The rebels may gnash their teeth as they will.

  Would that thou wert a gambling man so we might take sides; for I know thou cleav’st to rebellion, and I cleave to entertainment; and my feet almost fall to dancing when I think of long odds and a woodland alive with black escapees. Detonations, sir, shall follow.

  An ensign of the 14th came on board our frigate to deliver the particulars, of which we had formerly heard but rumor; and when he had done so, the spirits of all were in great ferment. Octavian could scarce remain within the compass of the gunwales. Others wished to push on to Norfolk, invigorated by the word of success. All talked of the rebel colonel trussed and bagged by his own two slaves, that had been whipped by him previous — and there was an elation in this tale of justice reflected in all eyes.

  Amongst the glad faces and the looks of triumph, one aging Negro in the crew could be perceived crying; and, wondering at his tears, I inquired of him why he wept.

  He raised his arms in a gesture of enthusiasm; and in a voice thick with his weeping, recited the Psalm:

  “When the LORD turned again the captivity of Zion,

  we were like them that dream.

  Then was our mouth filled with laughter,

  and our tongue with singing:

  then said they among the heathen,

  The LORD hath done great things for them.

  For indeed hath HE done great things for us;

  whereof we are glad.

  Turn again our captivity, O LORD,

  as the streams in the south!

  They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.”

  It was most affecting.

  Though my bones are eld and weary and my skin is rough as is the houndfish’s hide, still doth my whole spirits tremble in agitated liquidity to see the issue of this coming campaign — in which so much shall be done to ensure, thou, my dear friend, dear because compassionate, that thy rebellion shall truly give birth to liberty.

  Gamble how thou wishest, sir —

  “Hos successus alit: possunt, quia posse videntur.”3

  3 “They are strengthened by success; they can triumph because they think they can triumph.”— Virgil, Æneid, Book V [Editor’s note]

  So says

  thy humble & affectionate,

  Dr. John Trefusis

  Thus do I begin. Here commences my record — taken down in the hope that a record of such a struggle as here impends shall not be found uninteresting to the eye of future curiosity and the heart which thrills with compassion and is stirred by high deeds. So thus, on this day,

  November 21st, 1775

  We are arrived at Norfolk. The town is of a good size, and its waters swelled with the ships of Lord Dunmore’s fleet.

  We came to anchor at about three o’clock. There was a great bustle. Boats were prepared, that the passengers might disembark.

  The moment being come that I should be rowed ashore to transact my enlistment, I bid a brief farewell to Dr. Trefusis, and hope that it shall be for but a short time, until we both have found our lodgings. As we embraced, he could not forbear to shed a tear. I fear I shed none, anticipation of coming adventures blotting out remembrance of those past; I fairly trembled with eagerness to reach the shore. I thrilled to that truth too sweet to be believed: that as I entered the Army, I should be freed in the eyes of the law — no stricture should bind me, no paper should hold me. Not simply escape, but freedom itself. ’Twould be a half an hour; an hour — but this same day.

  The transit from ship to shore, meandering between hulls of schooner and brig, our oarlocks rattling monotonously, seemed to me interminable, so fired was I at the promise at last of landfall and recruitment; I strained forward, too, at the possibility that Bono should be presented to view at any moment; that by tonight, I might share a cup with him
, who had been my only friend and brother throughout my youth.