CHAPTER X.
Governor Peter Chester—Fort George of the British and St. Michael of the Spanish—Tartar Point—Red Cliff.
Peter Chester, having been commissioned governor of West Florida in 1772, came to Pensacola, the capital of the province, and entered upon the administration of the office. He was recognized and deferred to by General Haldimand as a man of capacity and experience, a reputation which was not impaired by his nine years’ rule in Florida.
The first days of his administration were marked by a determination to reform the public service, and to supersede the old star fort by more stable and efficient defenses for the town and harbor, and the spirit which animated him was at once communicated to the military commander of the province.
Early in his administration, after much discussion by engineers of several plans for the defense of the town, a fort was built, under orders from General Gage, on Gage Hill, and named Fort George for his majesty George III.[[12]]
In the centre of the fortress was the council chamber of the province and the repository of its archives, where the office duties of the governor and the military commander were performed, where audience was given to Indian chiefs and delegations, and where really centered the government of West Florida, according to its English boundaries.
In that chamber on one occasion could have been seen a man in the prime of life, partly in Indian dress, in earnest conversation with Governor Chester and William Panton, the millionaire and merchant prince of the Floridas. By the evident admixture of white and Indian blood in his veins, his skin had lost several shades of the hue, his hair the peculiar stiffness, and his cheek bones somewhat of the prominence of those of his aboriginal ancestry. He was tall and slender; his eyes, black and piercing, beamed with the light that belongs to those of the cultured; the Indians said his high forehead was arched like a horse-shoe; the fingers which hold the pen with which he is writing, during a pause in the conversation, are long and slender; he speaks and then reads what he has written; all is in the purest English, to which he is capable of giving point by an apt classical quotation. On a future occasion he will enter that chamber with the commission of a British colonel. A few years later he will hold a like commission from the King of Spain. A few years later still will find him a brigadier-general of the United States. That man is Alexander McGillivray, of whom much is to be written.
In that chamber three men were once seated at a table, attended by two secretaries busily writing, one in English, the other in Spanish. One of the three is Governor Chester, another is General John Campbell, a distinguished English officer whom fortune has just deserted. The third, a young-looking Spaniard, too young for his insignia of a Spanish general, is Don Bernardo de Galvez, the governor and military commander of Louisiana. Those three men are closing a drama and writing the last paragraph of a chapter of history. The two papers the secretaries are writing, when signed, will separate, one going to London, the other to Madrid, to meet again at Versailles. At Versailles they will be copied substantially into the duplicates of the treaty of 1783 between Spain and Great Britain, and constitute its V Article.
A pigeon-hole on the side of that chamber once contained an order from Lord Dartmouth, dated January, 1774, to the commander-in-chief of West Florida, to forward a regiment from Pensacola to revolutionary Boston to quell the tea-riots. This book is debtor to many documents which once rested in other pigeon-holes of the chamber.