George could only say a few words in reply, but to the core of his heart he felt the cordial respect given to him by his enemies.
But his thoughts were bitter on that homeward march. He had been sent out to do great things, and he came back a defeated man. By the watch-fires at night he prepared his account to be submitted to Governor Dinwiddie, and it was the most painful work of his life. After two weeks' travel, the latter part of it in advance of his command, he reached Williamsburg. The House of Burgesses was in session, and this gave him a painful kind of satisfaction. He would know at once what was thought of his conduct.
On the day of his arrival he presented himself before Governor Dinwiddie, who received him kindly.
"We know, Colonel Washington," he said, "that you surrendered three hundred men to nine hundred. But we also know that you gave them a tussle for it. Remain here until I have communicated with the House of Burgesses, when you will, no doubt, be sent for."
George remained in his rooms at the Raleigh Tavern, seeing no one. He knew the Governor perfectly well—a man of good heart but weak head—and he set more value on the verdict of his own countrymen, assembled as Burgesses, than on the Governor's approval. He did not have to wait long. The House of Burgesses received his report, read it, and expressed a high sense of Colonel Washington's courage and ability, although, in spite of both, he had been unfortunate, and declared a continuation of their confidence in him. Not so Governor Dinwiddie. His heart was right, but whenever he thought for himself he always thought wrong. The fact that he had to report to the home government the failure of this inadequate expedition set him to contriving, as all weak men will, some one or some circumstance on which to shift the responsibility. It occurred to him at once: the Virginia troops were only provincial troops, Colonel Washington was a provincial officer. What was needed, this wise Governor concluded, were regular troops and regular officers. This he urged strongly in his report to the home government, and next day he sent for George.
"Colonel Washington," he said, suddenly, "I believe nothing can be accomplished without the aid of regular troops from England, and I have asked for at least two regiments for the next campaign. Meanwhile I have determined to raise ten companies to assist the regular force which is promised us in the spring, for it is now too late in the season for military operations. I offer you the command of one of those companies. Your former officers will be similarly provided for; but I will state frankly that when the campaign opens, the officers of the same rank in his Majesty's regular troops will outrank those in the provincial army."
George listened to this remarkable speech with the red slowly mounting into his face. His temper, brought under control only by the most determined will, showed in his eyes, which literally blazed with anger.
"Sir," he said, after a moment, "as I understand, you offer me a Captain's commission in exchange for that which I now bear of Lieutenant-Colonel, and I am to be made the equal of men whom I have commanded, and all of us are to be outranked by the regular force."
The Governor shifted uneasily in his chair, and finally began a long rigmarole which he meant for an explanation. George heard him through in an unbroken silence, which very much disconcerted the Governor. Then he rose and said, with a low bow:
"Sir, I decline to accept the commission you offer me, and I think you must suppose me as empty as the commission itself in proposing it. I shall also have the honor of surrendering to your Excellency the commission of Lieutenant-Colonel, which you gave me; and I bid you, sir, good-morning"—and he was gone.