“It was leave or starve,” were the words on Rodney’s tongue; but he did not speak them, and ever after was glad that he hadn’t. Instead he said, “I will tell her of your kind invitation. She was very fond of her home here. You are very kind. Please give my regards to Lisbeth and say that I regret not seeing her and hope for her speedy recovery.”
And so, despite the squire’s urging that he remain, Rodney set out on his journey home, less satisfied with himself and the promises for his future than he had been the night before.
The lad was, however, to have little time in the succeeding months for reflections, pleasant or otherwise. No sooner had he delivered the dispatches he was carrying to Mr. Jefferson than he was off again on similar missions.
In that early spring of 1775 Virginia was in a ferment. Most of the leading men believed that war was coming, and bent their energies to planning and so shaping affairs that the colony might be ready for it. Of this Rodney learned enough in his travels to appreciate the gravity of the situation, and the importance of vigilance and faithfulness on his part. He received many compliments from his employer and deserved them.
The position of those who favoured the king became daily more unpleasant. Not only had they lost influence, but were made to feel that they were marked men, looked on by even their old neighbours with suspicion. Soon they were to be called traitors to their 172 faces and to know that their lives were in peril, for always those may be found in times of excitement to seek excuse for wreaking vengeance on enemies, doing it in the name of the cause that is popular.
When the choleric royal governor, Lord Dunmore, dissolved the House of Burgesses he accomplished nothing save to increase the bitterness already existing. The Virginia representatives met and chose delegates to the General Congress to meet in Philadelphia, and now Virginia was to have a convention of its own, and hold it at Richmond, then a village of not more than nine hundred white inhabitants, and there, in the fire of his eloquence, Patrick Henry was to fuse the differing views into one grand purpose and arouse the people to the fact that war was indeed approaching.
Rodney Allison, whose duties, much to his delight, had taken him to the convention, was one of the spectators of that memorable scene when Patrick Henry spoke. Ten years before, in the House of Burgesses, Henry had told the awestruck delegates what he thought of the infamous Stamp Act, and that, if what he said were treason, they could make the most of it. Now, he favoured raising volunteer soldiers in each county, such as the Minute Men who had done such valiant work in Massachusetts.
The opposition to these resolutions aroused him, and he rose to reply, and his words seared his views upon the minds of the delegates, who sat motionless like men in a trance. It seemed to Rodney, when the last word was spoken, as though he had not breathed from 173 the moment the orator began. The speaker’s face seemed to become luminous and his eyes blazed and the boy shivered as though with a chill. Certain of the immortal sentences he never forgot and as they were spoken he saw them in his excited imagination as though written in letters of fire: “Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed by a kiss,” referring to the king’s promises. “In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of reconciliation.” “There is no longer any room for hope.” “The war is inevitable! and let it come!” “The next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms!” At the close came those words as from a prophet with a face of flame: “Give me liberty or give me death!” and when he sat down his listeners were ready to rise and declare war on the instant.
Not all, for among those who heard were some who, while they sat as though under a spell, nevertheless were resolved past conversion to stand by their king. Among them Rodney saw Squire Danesford elbowing his way through the door, his face purple with rage, and, once outside, he mounted his horse and rode away at a mad gallop, followed by Black Tom.