Prisoners of Hope: A Tale of Colonial Virginia

by Mary Johnston

  CHAPTER VI

  THE HUT ON THE MARSH

  It was shortly after midnight when the two servants slipped along theinlet, silently and warily, and keeping their boat well under the shore.It was a crazy affair, barely large enough for two, and requiringconstant bailing. When they had made half a mile from the quarters, theMuggletonian, who rowed, turned the boat's head across the inlet, andran into a very narrow creek that wound in mazy doubles through themarshes. They entered it, made the first turn, and the broad bosom ofthe inlet, lit by a low, crimson moon, was as if it had never been. Onevery side high marsh grass soughed in the night wind,--plains ofblackness with the red moon rising from them. The tide was low. So closewere the banks of wet, black earth, that they heard the crabs scuttlingdown them, and Porringer made a jab with his pole at a great sheepsheadlying _perdu_ alongside. The water broke before them into spangles,glittering phosphorescent ripples. A school of small fish, disturbed bythe oars, rushed past them, leaping from the water with silver flashes.A turtle plunged sullenly. From the grass above came the sleepy cry ofmarsh hens, and once a great white heron rose like a ghost across theirpath. It flapped its wings and sailed away with a scream of wrath.

  The boat had wound its tortuous way for many minutes before Porringersaid in a low voice: "We can speak safely now. There is nothing humanmoving on these flats unless the witch, Margery, is abroad. Cursed mayshe be, and cursed those who give her shelter and food and raiment andlay offerings at her door, for surely it is written, 'Thou shalt notsuffer a witch to live.'"

  "Is there anything a Muggletonian will not curse?" asked Landless.

  "Yea," answered the other complacently. "There are ourselves, the saltof the earth. There are a thousand or more of us."

  "And the remainder of the inhabitants of the earth are reprobate anddoomed?"

  "Yea, verily, they shall be as the burning of lime, as thorns cut upwill they be burned in the fire."

  "Then why have you to do with me, and with the man to whom we aregoing?"

  "Because it is written: 'Make ye friends of the mammon ofunrighteousness;' and moreover there be degrees even in hell fire. I donot place you, who have some inkling of the truth, nor the Independentsand Fifth Monarchy men (as for the Quakers they shall be utterly damned)in the furnace seven times heated which is reserved for the bigoted andbloody Prelatists who rule the land, swearing strange oaths, foiningwith the sword, and delighting in vain apparel; keeping their feast daysand their new moons and their solemn festivals. They are the rejoicingcity that dwells carelessly, that says in her heart, 'I am, and there isnone beside me.' The day cometh when they shall be broken as thebreaking of a potter's vessel, yea, they shall be violently tossed likea ball into a far country."

  Here they struck a snag, well-nigh capsizing the boat. When she righted,and Landless had bailed her out with a gourd, they proceeded in silence.Landless was in no mood for speech. He did not know where they weregoing, nor for what purpose, nor did he greatly care. He meant toescape, and that as soon as his strength should be recovered and hecould obtain some knowledge of the country, and he meant to take no oneinto his counsel, not the Muggletonian, whose own attempts had ended sodisastrously, nor the 'man who gave good advice.' As to this midnightexpedition he was largely indifferent. But it was something to escapefrom the stifling atmosphere of the cabin where he had tossed from sideto side, listening to the heavy breathing of the convict Turk andpeasant lad with whom he was quartered, to the silver peace ofmoon-flooded marsh and lapping water.

  They made another turn, and in front of them shone out a light, gleamingdully like a will-of-the-wisp. It looked close at hand, but the creekturned upon itself, coiled and writhed through the marsh, and trebledthe distance.

  The Muggletonian rested on his oar, and turned to Landless.

  "Yonder is our bourne," he said gravely. "But I have a word to say toyou, friend, before we reach it. If, to curry favor with theuncircumcised Philistines who set themselves over us, thou speakest ofaught thou mayest see or hear there to-night, may the Lord wither thytongue within thy mouth, may he smite thee with blindness, may he bringthee quick into the pit! And if not the Lord, then will I, Win-GracePorringer, rise and smite thee!"

  "You may spare your invectives," said Landless coldly. "I am notraitor."

  "Nay, friend," said the other in a milder tone. "I thought it not ofthee, or I had not brought thee thither."

  He shoved the nose of the boat into the shore, and caught at a stake,rising, water-soaked and rotten, from below the bank. Landless threw himthe looped end of a rope, and together they made the boat fast, thenscrambled up the three feet of fat, sliding earth to the level abovewhere the ground was dry, none but the highest of tides ever reachingit. Fifty yards away rose a low hut. It stood close to another bend inthe creek, and before it were several boats, tied to stakes, and softlyrubbing their sides together. The hut had no window, but there wereinterstices between the logs through which the light gleamed redly.

  When the two men had reached it, the Muggletonian knocked upon the heavydoor, after a peculiar fashion, striking it four times in all. There wasa shuffling sound within, and (Landless thought) two voices ceasedspeaking. Then some one said in a low voice and close to the door: "Whois it?"

  "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon," answered the Muggletonian.

  A bar fell from the door, and it swung slowly inwards.

  "Enter, friends," said a quiet voice. Landless, stooping his head,crossed the threshold, and found himself in the presence of a man with ahigh, white forehead and a grave, sweet face, who, leaning on a stick,and dragging one foot behind him, limped back to the settle from whichhe had risen, and fell to work upon a broken net as calmly as if he werealone. Besides themselves he was the only inmate of the room.

  A pine torch, stuck into a cleft in the table, cast a red andflickering light over a rude interior, furnished with the table, thesettle, a chest and a straw pallet. From the walls and rafters hungnets, torn or mended. In one corner was a great heap of dingy sail, inanother a sheaf of oars, and a third was wholly in darkness. Lying aboutthe earthen floor were several small casks to which the man motioned asseats.

  Leaving Landless near the door, Win-Grace Porringer dragged a keg to theside of the settle, and sitting down upon it, approached his death maskof a face close to the face of the mender of nets, and commenced awhispered conversation. To Landless, awaiting rather listlessly theoutcome of this nocturnal adventure, came now and then a brokensentence. "He hath not the look of a criminal, but--" "Of Puritanbreeding, sayest thou?" "We need young blood." Then after prolongedwhispering, "No traitor, at least."

  At length the Muggletonian arose and came towards Landless. "My friendwould speak with you alone," he said, "I will stand guard outside." Hewent out, closing the door behind him.

  The mender of nets beckoned Landless. "Will you come nearer?" he askedin a quiet refined voice that was not without a ring of power. "As yousee, I am lame, and I cannot move without pain."

  Landless came and sat down beside the table, resting his elbow upon thewood, and his chin upon his hand. The mender of nets put down his work,and the two measured each other in silence.

  Landless saw a man of middle age who looked like a scholar, but whomight have been a soldier; a man with a certain strong, bright sweetnessof look in a spare, worn face, and underlying the sweetness a still anddeadly determination. The mender of nets saw, in his turn, a figurelithe and straight as an Indian's, a well-poised head, and a handsomeface set in one fixed expression of proud endurance. A determined face,too, with dark, resolute eyes and strong mouth, the face of a man whohas done and suffered much, and who knows that he will both do andsuffer more.

  "I am told," said the mender of nets, "that you are newly come to theplantations."

  "I was brought by the ship God-Speed a month ago."

  "You did not come as an indented servant?"

  Landless reddened. "No."

  "Nor as a martyr to principle, a victim of that most iniqu
itous andtyrannical Act of Uniformity?"

  "No."

  "Nor as one of those whom they call Oliverians?"

  "No."

  The mender of nets tapped softly against the table with his thin, whitefingers. Landless said coldly:--

  "These are idle questions. The man who brought me here hath told youthat I am a convict."

  The other looked at him keenly. "I have heard convicts talk before this.Why do you not assert your innocence?"

  "Who would believe me if I did?"

  There was a silence. Landless, raising his eyes, met those of the menderof nets, large, luminous, gravely tender, and reading him like a book.

  "I will believe you," said the mender of nets.

  "Then, as God is above us," said the other solemnly, "I did not do thething! And He knows that I thank you, sir, for your trust. I have notfound another--"

  "I know, lad, I know! How was it?"

  "I was a Commonwealth's man. My father was dead, my kindred attainted,and I had a powerful enemy. I was caught in a net of circumstance. AndMorton was my judge."

  "Humph! the marvel is that you ever got nearer to the plantations thanTyburn. Your name is--"

  "Godfrey Landless."

  "Landless! Once I knew--and loved--a Warham Landless--a brave soldier, agallant gentleman, a true Christian. He fell at Worcester."

  "He was my father."

  The mender of nets covered his eyes with his hand. "O Lord! howwonderful are thy ways!" he said beneath his breath, then aloud, "Lad,lad, I cannot wholly sorrow to see you here. Wise in counsel, bold inaction, patient, farseeing, brave, was thy father, and I think thou hasthis spirit. Thou hast his eyes, now that I look at thee more closely. Ihave prayed for such a man."

  "I am glad you knew my father," said Landless simply.

  After a long silence, in which the minds of both had gone back to otherdays, the mender of nets spoke gravely.

  "You have no cause to love the present government?"

  "No," said Landless grimly.

  "You were heart and hand for the Commonwealth?"

  "Yes."

  "You mean to escape from this bondage?"

  "Yes."

  The mender of nets took from his bosom a little worn book. "Will youswear upon this that you will never reveal what I am about to say toyou, save to such persons as I shall designate? For myself I would takeyour simple word, for we are both gentlemen, but other lives than minehang in the balance."

  Landless touched the book with his lips. "I swear," he said.

  The man brought his serene, white face nearer.

  "What would you have given," he asked solemnly, "for the cause for whichyour father died?"

  "My life," said Landless.

  "Would you give it still?"

  "A worthless gift," said Landless bitterly. "Yea, I would give it, butthe cause is dead."

  The other shook his head. "The cause of the just man dieth not."

  There was a pause broken by the mender of nets.

  "Thou art no willing slave, I trow. The thought of escape is ever withthee."

  "I shall escape," said Landless deliberately. "And if they track me theyshall not take me alive."

  The mender of nets gave a melancholy smile. "They would track you, neverfear!" He leaned forward and touched Landless with his hand. "What if Ishow you a better way?" he asked in a whisper.

  "What way?"

  "A way to recover your liberty, and with it, the liberty of downtroddenbrethren. A way to raise the banner of the Commonwealth and to put downthe Stuart."

  Landless stared. "A miserable hut," he said, "in the midst of a desolateVirginia marsh, and within it, a brace of slaves, the one a cripple, theother a convict,--and Charles Stuart on his throne in Whitehall!Friend, this dismal place hath turned your wits!"

  The other smiled. "My wits are sound," he said, "as sound as they wereupon that day when I gave my voice for the death (a sad necessity!) ofthis young man's father. And I do not think to shake England,--I speakof Virginia."

  "Of Virginia!"

  "Yea, of this goodly land, a garden spot, a new earth where should beplanted the seeds of a mighty nation, strong in justice and simpleright, wise, temperate, brave; an enlightened people, serving God inspirit and in truth, not with the slavish observance of prelatist andpapist, nor with the indecent familiarity of the Independent; loyal totheir governors, but exercising the God-given right of choosing thosewho are to rule over them; a people amongst whom liberty shall walkunveiled, and to whom Astraea shall come again; a people as free as theeagle I watched this morning, soaring higher and ever higher, stronglyand proudly, rejoicing in its progress heavenward."

  "In other words, a republic," said Landless dryly.

  "Why not?" answered the other with shining, unseeing eyes. "It is adream we dreamed ten years ago, I and Vane and Sidney and Marten andmany others,--but Oliver rudely wakened us. Then it was by the banks ofthe Thames, and it was for England. Now, on the shores of Chesapeake Idream again, and it is for Virginia. You smile!"

  "Have you considered, sir,--I do not know your name."

  "Robert Godwyn is my name."

  "Have you considered, Master Godwyn, that the Virginians do not want arepublic, that they are more royalist and prelatical than are theirbrethren at home; that they out-Herod Herod in their fantastic loyalty?"

  "That is true of the class with whom you have come into contact,--of themasters. But there is much disaffection among the people at large. Andthere are the Nonconformists, the Presbyterians, Independents, Baptists,even the Quakers, though they say they fight not. To them all, CharlesStuart is the Pharaoh whose heart the Lord hardened, and WilliamBerkeley is his task-master."

  "Any one else?"

  "There are those of the gentry who were Commonwealth's men, and whochafe sorely under the loss of office and disfavor into which they havefallen."

  "And these all desire a republic?"

  "They desire the downfall of the royalists with William Berkeley attheir head. The republic would follow."

  "And when a handful of Puritan gentlemen, a few hundred Nonconformists,and the rabble of the colony shall have executed this project, haveusurped the government, dethroning the king, or his governor, which isthe same thing,--then will come in from the mouth of Thames a couple ofroyal frigates and blow your infant republic into space."

  "I do not think so. The frigates would come undoubtedly, but I am ofanother opinion as to the result of their coming. They would not take usunprepared as those of the Commonwealth took William Berkeley infifty-two. And with a plentiful lack of money and a Dutch warthreatening, Charles Stuart could not send unlimited frigates. Moreover,if Virginia revolted, Puritan New England would follow her example, andshe would find allies in the Dutch of New Amsterdam."

  "You spin large fancies," said Landless, with some scorn. "I suppose youare plotting with these gentlemen you speak of?"

  "No," said the man, with a scarcely perceptible hesitation. "No, theyare few in number and scattered. Moreover, they might plot amongstthemselves but never with--a servant."

  "Then you are concerned with the Nonconformists?"

  "The Nonconformists are timid, and dream not that the day of deliveranceis at hand."

  Landless began to laugh. "Do you mean to say," he demanded, "that youand I, for I suppose you count on my assistance, are to enact a kind ofPride's Purge of our own? That we are to drive from the land the King'sGovernor, Council, Burgesses and trainbands; sweep into the bay SirWilliam Berkeley and Colonel Verney, and all those gold-laced planterswho dined with him the other day? That we are to take possession of thecolony as picaroons do of a vessel, and hoisting our flag,--a crutchsurmounted by a ball and chain on a ground sable,--proclaim a republic?"

  "Not we alone."

  "Oh, ay! I forgot the worthy Muggletonian."

  "He is but one of many," said the mender of nets.

  Landless leaned forward, a light growing in his eyes. "Speak out!" hesaid. "What is it that will break this cha
in?"

  The mender of nets, too, bent forward from his settle until his breathmingled with the breath of the younger man.

  "A slave insurrection," he said.