"You are the son of as worthy a gentleman as ever wore a sword. I knew him and your honoured mother well—that is, if you are the same mischievous boy whom I have mourned as drowned these many long and lonesome years."
The captive waited to hear no more, but springing upon his feet, paced wildly round the damp cellar like one in a delirium of joy. The old woman still maintained her humble posture, her hands again clasped, and her long wrinkled neck turning with difficulty to follow the strange movements of the prisoner. Suddenly, and as if stricken down by a cannon shot, he threw himself upon the earth his whole frame convulsed with thoughts of his present hopeless condition. "What matters it whether I am Nathaniel Bacon or not? What will it avail, this time to-morrow, when these limbs, now so full of life and vigour in the renewal of hope, will be still in the cold embrace of death?"
"Death!" the old woman screamed, rising from her knees, seizing the lamp and thrusting it in Bacon's face—"Death, did you say, my son? or did my old ears deceive me with the horrible word?"
"They did not,—truer words were never spoken or heard; to-morrow, before the sun has measured an hour in the heavens, the voice which now addresses you, will be silenced in the everlasting sleep of death!"
Horror struck his auditor dumb; her shrivelled lips moved with a tremulous motion, as if she desired to speak—but she spoke not. An ashy paleness overspread her features, and she staggered backward and would have fallen, had she not been caught in the arms of her long-lost foster son. A tumult of thoughts crowded upon her enfeebled mind, as she recovered, gasping with the unusual excitement, and her aged frame heaved as if it would burst in the effort. At length a ray of hope seemed to dawn upon her mental vision; her eye sparkled with the thought, as she resumed the lamp which Bacon had taken from her hand, and placed upon the ground. "It must not, shall not be, my son. There is your coarse food, Heaven forgive me for not offering you better, but little did my thoughts turn upon such a godsend. I have a thousand things to ask and tell, but as you say, life—precious life—hangs upon every moment lost, so—"
At this moment the sentinel advanced directly before them, and taking the old woman rudely by the arm, said, "Come, old Tabby, the prisoner can find the way to his mouth without the light; give him his bread and water, and be off;" thrusting her up the steps, as he spoke, slamming the door, and once more turning the grating bolt upon the unfortunate prisoner.
Bacon's late reviving hopes almost died within him as he listened to the unwelcome sounds and the retreating footsteps of his visiters.
He threw himself once more upon his rude couch and abandoned himself to despair. But youthful hope never despairs utterly, however desperate the circumstances; a few moments after saw him with his handcuffs thrown off, and busily engaged in piling the loosened bricks upon the floor. In less than an hour, he beheld the stars lightly twinkling in the Heavens, through the aperture created by the removal of a single brick, which he had taken from the outer layer before he was aware of his progress. Cautiously and intently he listened for the footsteps of the sentinel; strange sounds seemed to come from off the water, but all in his immediate vicinity was as quiet as the grave, except the tumultuous throbbing of his own heart. Again he proceeded cautiously in his work, until he had completed an aperture sufficiently large to admit the passage of his body. Then, bracing his nerves, he proceeded to effect his exit through the opening, and was vigorously struggling to free himself, when a musket ball whistled by his ear and buried itself in the wooden sill of the house. He sprang back into the cellar, and stood in confusion and amazement, until the short chuckling laugh of the sentinel roused him from his delusive dream of hope. He could distinctly hear the marksman who had exhibited such a dangerous proof of his skill, laughing and telling his comrade, who paced before the door at the end of the house, "how he had shaved the prisoner's head." The unfortunate captive now abandoned himself to despair in earnest. A thousand times he cursed his ill fated stars, for thus leading the old nurse into his cell to rouse his dormant hopes, and give a new impulse to his desires for freedom.
While these matters were in progress at the prison of our hero, the naval armament under the command of Bland, Carver and Larimore, belonging to and put in motion by his friends among the citizens, and which might have rendered him such effectual assistance had the two principal officers been aware of his situation, was itself about to perform its share in the contest. The expedition under Ludwell, as had been promised to the traitor Larimore, was sent out at the exact time specified, and with muffled oars skimmed along the surface of the tranquil lake, keeping under the shadow of the ships. As they approached, signals were exchanged, which satisfied Ludwell that Larimore was indeed in command of the watch, and still ready to betray his trust. Once or twice, indeed, a suspicion shot across his mind, that Larimore might only be an agent in the hands of Bland and Carver, and that his proposal was but a scheme laid to entrap himself and followers into the power of the rebels, as the Governor's party were pleased to call the patriots; but it was as speedily dissipated by the favourable train in which every thing seemed to lie, as the traitor had promised.
The loyal party under his command was in a very few minutes silently and stealthily climbing up the sides of the vessels. Having gained the decks, they proceeded at once to disarm and bind the sentinels. These unfortunate fellows had been induced by the traitor Larimore, to believe that the party under Ludwell were deserters from the ranks of Sir William Berkley, and were not undeceived until they found themselves bound hand and foot, and such other precautions taken that they could not alarm their sleeping comrades below. In less time than we have taken to record the transaction, the whole naval armament in the service of the patriots, together with the officers, crews and military stores, were delivered into the hands of Governor Berkley. The success of the enterprise was announced to the anxious expectants on shore, by a discharge of artillery, which was joyously answered on their part. Sir William Berkley was transported with delight—so lately abandoned by the majority of the citizens and soldiers of the capital, and compelled to desert the legitimate seat of government, he now saw himself in possession of a naval and military power, more than sufficient to command the obedience, if he could not win the affections of the rebellious citizens. He immediately called together his officers, and such of the cavalier gentry as had followed his fortunes to this remote corner of the colony, and imparted to them his determination to embark his land forces on board the ships brought over by himself, and those surrendered by Larimore, and sail within the hour for the capital.