The Cavaliers of Virginia, vol. 2 of 2 / or, The Recluse of Jamestown; An historical romance of the Old Dominion

by William Alexander Caruthers

Bacon had persisted in waiting the onset, notwithstanding the impetuous ardour of his troops, until he could make every shot effective; he knew his inferiority of numbers, and determined to compensate for his disparity of force by coolness and precision. "Wait until you see the white of their eyes, my fine fellows," was his often repeated answer to the suggestions and even entreaties of his impatient cannoniers; but when at length he did give the word "fire!" most effectually was it echoed. The very heights seemed to the panic stricken troops of the Governor, to pour out red hot iron and smoke. They were speedily rallied and brought again to the charge—and again the same fearful reception awaited their farther progress, with the addition, at the second onset, of a volley of musketry. Dreadful was the havoc in the royal ranks, and terrible the dismay of the soldiery. The rabble which the Governor had hastily collected in the town, fairly took to their heels and fled to the protection of the fort. Again the valiant old knight rode among his troops, and cheered them to the onset, but at each succeeding attack, some more fatal reserve was brought into action. At length the patriot chief, standing upon his rude fortification, and looking down upon the dismayed and retreating loyalists, began to take counsel of his youthful ardour—he longed to measure swords with the officer whom he beheld riding so constantly by the side of the Governor. He saw the officers of the king, as they rode among their troops, some with tears in their eyes endeavouring to rally them, and others swearing and rebuking their cowardly followers; and he determined to permit them to rally and then bear down upon them with his own high spirited and ardent soldiers. He was quickly mounted, as were also Dudley, Harrison, and the brave band of youthful Cavaliers who had adhered so long and so faithfully to his fortunes. When he announced this determination to his army, the welkin rung again with their joyous acclamations, and every heart throbbed in unison with his own, and assured him of victory.

"This night," said Bacon in a low voice to Dudley, as they rode over the entrenchment—"Jamestown shall be a heap of ashes!"

Dudley made no reply, but smote his clenched hand upon his harness with emphasis, returning the glance of his commander with one of cordial approval.

Sir William Berkley and his subordinates, seeing the movement of their opponents, were soon enabled to rally the disheartened troops, and as the patriot army marched down the hill, the royalists in turn, raised the cheering chorus.

The loyal army had not at any time during the engagement, presented so formidable an appearance, as they did at this moment, and they in their turn silently awaited the sortie of the enemy. As Bacon's followers debouched, they visibly accelerated their pace to double quick time, and the two bodies came together with a shock like the explosion of a magazine. Terrible was the melee, and dreadful the carnage which ensued. As they closed, Bacon raised his voice, and addressing Beverly by name, called upon him to sustain his late charges. Consternation was visible in the countenances both of Beverly and the Governor at the unexpected appearance of the patriot chief, but the former yielded to it only for an instant—in the next the youthful champions plunged the rowels into the flanks of their chargers, and rushed at each other like infuriated wild beasts. The fire flew from their swords, and their eyes flashed not less brightly, but at the first onset, Beverly's weapon snapped off short at the guard. Bacon raised himself in the stirrups, and was about to plunge his blade deep into the breast of his hated rival, but it fell harmless upon the mane of his charger, and he drew back to the command of his troops. Beverly wheeled his horse and rode slowly from the field, deeply wounded and mortified; as much perhaps at the contrast between Bacon's forbearance and his own late vote of condemnation, as at the disaster and defeat he had sustained.

As Bacon returned to reanimate his troops, he found that a new ally was doing battle in his cause. He saw near the right wing, the flourishes of a gigantic arm, which he had formerly seen do service. The Recluse was indeed there; how long since, Bacon knew not, but he seemed to be already in the thickest of the fight. He had lost his cap, and his bald head towered amid his fellows and brightly glistened in the sun. His right arm was bare to the shoulder, and dyed with blood to the finger ends. He seemed striving to throw his life away, and more than once thrust himself into the very ranks of the foe, but as often the terror-struck loyalists gave way before him. He seemed to be perfectly invulnerable, for not a wound had he yet received.

The consequences of the first repulse at the assault on Bacon's intrenchments could not be overcome by the now exhausted and dismayed loyalists. One column after another gave way, and fled into the town, until not more than half remained. These were the regular troops, which had throughout adhered so firmly to the person and fortunes of the Governor. His friends urged him to capitulate, but he was as obstinate in battle as he had before shown himself in council.

He was at length almost dragged from the field by his friends—as all his troops were flying in disorder and confusion into the town. The patriots rushed in, together with their flying foes. The Recluse had seized some flying charger, and, still bareheaded, was dealing death to those who came within the sweep of his terrific weapon. Bacon over and over again, offered quarter to the flying remnant, but they fought as they ran, keeping up something like an irregular action, the whole distance from the field of battle to the city.

At length both parties were within the walls, and the fight was renewed, but the loyalists were soon driven from the field. Some escaped by boats to the shipping—and among these, Sir William Berkley was forcibly dragged from the city as he had been from the field. In vain he pleaded the situation of his wife and niece; he was assured by his friends of their safety in the hands of the victor, and still urged forward in his flight. Many poor fellows plunged into the river, and endeavoured to save themselves by swimming to the ships which still adhered to the loyal cause, but numbers perished in the attempt.

Bacon with difficulty restrained himself by a sense of duty, long enough to see the victory complete, before he leaped from his horse, and rushed up the stairs of the Governor's house, where, in a few moments, he was clasped in the arms of the amazed and delighted Virginia, notwithstanding the presence of Lady Berkley. He had no sooner exchanged those thousand little nameless but endearing questions and answers, that leap into life unbidden after such an absence and such a meeting, than he turned to Lady Berkley, and said, "Madam, a safe escort to convey you to your husband, waits your commands, at any moment you may choose to leave the city."