UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 r
 
 THE 
 
 YEMASSEE: 
 
 ROMANCE OF CAROLINA. 
 
 BY W. GILMORE SIMMS, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE PARTISAN," "GUY RIVERS," "MARTIN FABER,' 
 "RICHARD HURDIS," "BORDER BEAGLES," ETC. 
 
 and IRe&iscb (Edition. 
 
 CHICAGO AND NEW YORK : 
 
 BELFOKD, CLAEKE & CO. 
 
 1885.
 
 PRINTED AND BOUWD BY 
 
 DONOHUE & HENNEBEBBf. 
 
 CHICAGO.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "A scatterM race a wild, nnfetter'd tribe, 
 r- That in the forests dwell that lend no ships 
 
 For commerce on the waters rear no wall* 
 
 To shelter from the storm, or shield from strife ; 
 -* And leave behind, in memory of their name, 
 
 O No monument, save in the dim, deep wood*, 
 
 That daily perish as their lords have done 
 
 Beneath the keen stroke of the pioneer. 
 
 Let us look back upon their forest homes, 
 
 As in that earlier time, when first their foe, 
 
 The pale-faced, from the distant nations came, 
 
 They dotted the green banks of winding streams." 
 
 THE district of Beaufort, lying along the Atlantic coast in the 
 
 ^State of South Carolina, is especially commended to the regards 
 
 >of the antiquarian as the region first distinguished in the history 
 
 ^f the United States by an European settlement.* Here a colony 
 
 of French Huguenots was established in 1562, under the auspices 
 
 * We are speaking now of authentic history only. We are not ignorant 
 of the claim urged on behalf of the Northmen to discovery along the very 
 same region, and to their assertion of the existence here of a white people, 
 fully five hundred years before this period; an assertion which brings 
 us back to the tradition of Madoc and his Welshmen ; the report of the 
 Northmen adding further, that the language spoken was cognate with that 
 of the Irish, with which they were familiar. For this curious history, see 
 the recently published Antiquitates Americana, under the editorship of 
 Professor Rafn, of Copenhagen. 
 
 i* 
 
 272003
 
 10 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 of the celebrated Gaspare! de Coligni, admiral of France, who, in 
 the reign of Charles IX., conceived the necessity of such a settle- 
 ment, with the hope of securing a sanctuary for French protest- 
 ants, when they should be compelled, as lie foresaw they soon 
 would, by the anti-religious persecutions of the time, to fly from 
 their native into foreign regions. This settlement, however, proved 
 unsuccessful ; and the events which history records of the sub- 
 sequent efforts of the French to establish colonies in the same 
 neighbourhood, while of unquestionable authority, have all the 
 charm of the most delightful romance. 
 
 It was not till an hundred years after, that the same spot was 
 temporarily settled by the English under Sayle, who became the 
 first governor, as he was the first permanent founder of the settle- 
 ment. The situation was exposed, however, to the incursions of 
 the Spaniards, who, in the meanwhile, had possessed themselves 
 of Florida, and for a long time after continued to harass and pre- 
 vent colonization in this quarter. But perseverance at length 
 triumphed over all these difficulties, and though Sayle, for further 
 security, in the infancy of his settlement, had removed to the 
 banks of the Ashley, other adventurers, by little and little, con- 
 trived to occupy the gronnd he had left, and in the year 1700, the 
 birth of a white native child is recorded. 
 
 From the earliest period of our acquaintance with the country 
 of which we speak, it was in the possession of a powerful and gal- 
 lant race, and their tributary tribes, known by the general name 
 of Yejnagsees: Not so numerous, perhaps, as many of the neigh 
 bouring nations, they nevertheless commanded the respectful con- 
 sideration of all. In valour they made up for any deficiencies of 
 number, and proved themselves not only sufficiently strong to hold 
 out defiance to invasion, but were always ready to anticipate 
 assault. Their promptness and valour in the field furnished their 
 best securities against attack, while their forward courage, elastic 
 temper, and excellent skill in the rude condition of their warfare, 
 enabled them to subject to their dominion most of the tribes 
 around them, many of which were equally numerous with their 
 own. Like the Romans, in this way tr sy strengthened their own
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 11 
 
 powers by a wise incorporation of the conquered with the con 
 jiicrors; and under the several names of Huspahs, Coosaws, Corn- 
 i.ahees, Stonoees, and SSwees, the greater strength of the Yemassces 
 contrived to command so many dependants, prompted by their 
 movements, and almost entirely under their dictation. Thus 
 strengthened, the recognition of their power extended into the 
 remote interior, and they formed one of the twenty-eight aboriginal 
 nations among which, at its first settlement by the English, the 
 province of Carolina was divided. 
 
 A feeble colony of adventurers from a distant world had taken 
 up its abode alongside of them. The weaknesses of the intruder 
 were, at first, his only but sufficient protection with the unsophisti- 
 cated savage. The white man had his lands assigned him, and he 
 trenched his furrows to receive the grain on the banks of Indian 
 waters. The wild man looked on the humiliating labour, wondering 
 as he did so, but without fear, and never dreaming for a moment 
 of his own approaching subjection. Meanwhile, the adventurers 
 grew daily more numerous, for their friends and relatives soon 
 followed them across the ocean. They, too, had lands assigned 
 them in turn, by the improvident savage ; and increasing intima- 
 cies, with uninterrupted security, day by day, won the former still 
 more deeply into the bosom of the forests, and more immediately 
 in connexion with their wild possessors ; until, at length, we behold 
 the log-house of the white man, rising up amid the thinned clump 
 of woodland foliage, within hailing distance of the squat, clay 
 hovel of the savage. Sometimes their smokes even united ; and 
 now and then the two, the " European and his dusky guide," might 
 be seen, pursuing, side by side' and with the same dog, upon the 
 cold track of the affrighted deer or the yet more timorous turkey. 
 
 Let iis go back an hundred years, and more vividly recall this 
 picture. 'In 1Y15, the Yemassees were in all their glory. They 
 were politic and brave a generous and gallant race. The whites 
 had been welcomed at their first coming to their woods, and hospi- 
 tably entertained ; and gradually lost all their apprehensions, from 
 the gentleness and forbearance of the red men. The confidence of 
 the whites grew with the immunities they enjoyed, and in process
 
 12 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 of time they came to regard their hosts in the character of allies 
 and to employ them as auxiliaries. In this character, never sus 
 peeling their danger from the uses to wtiich they were put, anl 
 gladly obeying a passion to the exclusion of a policy, the Ye- 
 massees had taken up arms with the Carolinians against the Span 
 iards, who, from St. Augustine, perpetually harassed the settle- 
 ments. Until this period the Yemassees had never been troubled 
 by that worst tyranny of all, the consciousness of their inferiority 
 to a power of which they, at length, grew jealous. Lord Craven, 
 the governor and palatine of Carolina, had done much, in a little 
 time, by the success of his arms over the neighbouring tribes, and 
 the admirable policy which distinguished his government, to 
 impress this feeling of suspicion upon the minds of the Yemassees. 
 Their aid, finally, had ceased to be necessary to the Carolinians. 
 They were no longer sought or solicited. The presents became 
 fewer, the borderers grew bolder and more incursive, and new ter- 
 ritory, daily acquired by the colonists in some way or other, drove 
 them back for hunting-grounds upon the upper waters of tho 
 Edistoh and Isundiga.* Their chiefs began to show signs of dis- 
 content, if not of disaffection, and the great mass of their people 
 assumed a sullenness of habit and demeanour, which had never 
 marked their conduct before. They looked, with a feeling of 
 aversion which they yet strove to conceal, upon the approach 
 of the white man on every side. The thick groves disappeared, 
 the clear skies grew turbid with the dense smokes rolling up in 
 solid masses from the burning herbage. Hamlets grew into exist- 
 ence, as it were by magic, under their very eyes and in sight of 
 their own towns, for the shelter'of a different people; and at 
 length, a common sentiment, not yet embodied perhaps by its 
 open expression, even among themselves, prompted the Yemassees 
 in a desire to arrest the progress of a race with which they could 
 never hope to acquire any real or lasting affinity Another and a 
 stronger ground for jca'ous dklikc, arose necessarily in their minds 
 
 * Such is the beau*' ; an, by which the Yemassees knew th* .Sr 
 nah river
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 13 
 
 with the gradual approach of that consciousness of their inferiority 
 which, while the colony was dependent and weak, they had not so 
 readily perceived. But, when they saw with what facility the 
 new comers could convert even the elements, not less than them- 
 V selves, into slaves and agents, under the guidance of the strong 
 will and the overseeing judgment, the gloom of their habit swelled 
 into ferocity, and their minds were busied with those subtle 
 schemes and stratagems with which, in his nakedness, the savage 
 usually seeks to neutralize the superiority of European armour. 
 
 The Carolinians were now in possession of the entire sea-coast, 
 with a trifling exception, which forms the Atlantic boundary of 
 Beaufort and Charleston districts. They had but few, and those 
 small and scattered, interior settlements. A few miles from the 
 seashore, and the Indian lands generally girdled them in, still in 
 the possession as in the right of the aborigines. But few treaties 
 iiad yet been effected for the purchase of territory fairly out of 
 sight of the sea ; those tracts only excepted which formed the 
 borders of such rivers, as, emptying into the ocean and navigable 
 to small vessels, afforded; a ready chance of escape to the coast in 
 the event of any sudden necessity. In this way, the whites had 
 settled along the banks of the Keawa, the Etiwan, the Combahee, 
 the Coosaw, the Pocota-ligo, and other contiguous rivers ; dwelling 
 generally in small communities of five, seven, or ten families ; 
 seldom of more, and these taking care that the distance- should be 
 slight between them. Sometimes, indeed, an individual adven- 
 turer more fearless than the rest, drove his stakes, and took up his 
 abode alone, or with a single family, in some boundless contiguity 
 of shade, several miles from his own people, and over against his 
 roving neighbour ; pursuing, in many cases, the same errant life, 
 adopting many of his savage habits, and this, too, without risking 
 much, if any thing, in the general opinion. For a long season, so 
 pacific had been the temper of the Yemassees towards the Caroli- 
 nians, that the latter had finally become regardless of that neces- 
 sary caution which bolts a door and keeps a watch-dog. 
 
 On the waters of the Pocota-ligo,* or Little Wood river, this was 
 
 *The Indian pronunciation of their proper names is eminently musical
 
 14 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 
 
 more particularly the habit of the settlement. This is a small 
 stream, about twenty-five miles long, which empties itself into, and 
 forms one of the tributaries of, that singular estuary called Broad 
 river; and thus, in common with a dozen other streams of similar 
 size, contributes to the formation of the beautiful harbour of Beau- 
 fort, which, with a happy propriety, the French denominated Port 
 Royal. Leaving the yet small but improving village of the Caro- 
 linians at Beaufort, we ascend the Pocota-ligo, and still, at inter- 
 vals, their dwellings present themselves to our eye occasionally on 
 one side or the other. The banks, generally edged with swamp, 
 and fringed with its dark peculiar growth, possess few attractions, 
 and the occasional cottage serves greatly to relieve a picture, want- 
 ing certainly, not less in moral association than in the charm of 
 landscape. At one spot we encounter the rude, clumsy edifice, 
 usually styled the Block House, built for temporary defence, and 
 here and there holding its garrison of five, seven, or ten men, sel- 
 dom of more, maintained simply as posts, not so much with the 
 view to war as of warning. In its neighbourhood we see a cluster 
 of log dwellings, three or four in number, % the clearings in progress, 
 the piled timber smoking or in flame, and the stillness only broken 
 by the dull, heavy echo of the axe, biting into the trunk of the 
 tough and long-resisting pine. On the banks the woodman draws 
 up his " dug-out n or canoe a single cypress, hollowed out by fire 
 and the stone hatchet ; around the fields the negro piles slowly 
 the worming and ungraceful fence ; while the white boy gathers 
 fuel for the pot over which his mother is bending in the prepara- 
 tion of their frugal meal. A turn in the river unfolds to our sight 
 a cottage, standing by itself, half finished, and probably deserted by 
 its capricious owner. Opposite, on the other bank of the river, an 
 Indian dries his bearskin in the sun, while his infant, wrapped in 
 another, and lashed down upon a board, for security, not for 
 symmetry hangs rocking from the tree, beneath which his mo- 
 ther gathers up the earth with a wooden shovel, about the young 
 
 we usually spoil them. This name is preserved in Carolina, but it wants 
 the euphony and force which the Indian tongue gave it. We pronounce it 
 usually in common quantity. The reader will lay the emphasis upon the 
 penultimate, giving to th i the sound of e.
 
 THE YEMAS3EK. 15 
 
 roots of the tender corn. As we proceed, the traces of the Indians 
 thicken. Now a cot, and now a hamlet, grows up before the sight, 
 until, at the very head of the river, we come to the great place of 
 council and most ancient town of the Yemassees the town of 
 Pocota-ligo.* 
 
 * It may be well to say that the Pocota-ligo river, as here described, 
 would not readily be recognised in that stream at present The swamps 
 are now reclaimed, plantations and firm dwellings take the place of the 
 ancient groves ; and the bald and occasional tree only tells us where the 
 forests have been. The bed of the river has been narrowed by numerous 
 encroachments ; and, though still navigable for sloop and schooner, its fair 
 proportions have become greatly contracted in the silent but successful 
 operation of the last hundred years upon it.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Not in their usual trim was he arrayed. 
 The painted savage with a shaven head, 
 And feature, tortured up by forest skill, 
 To represent each noxious form of ill 
 And seem the tiger's tooth, the vulture's ravening WO.' 
 
 TFIE "grea : ; town" of Pocota-ligo, as it was called by the Yeraas- 
 sees, was tha largest in their occupation. Its pretensions were few, 
 however, beyond its population, to rank under that title. It was a 
 simple collection of scattered villages, united in process of time by 
 the coalition with new tribes and the natural progress of increase 
 among them. They had other large towns, however, not the least 
 among which was that of Coosaw-hatchie, or the " Refuge of the 
 Coosaws," a town established by the few of that people who had 
 survived the overthrow of their nation in a previous war with the 
 Carolinians. The " city of refuge" was a safe sanctuary, known 
 among the greater number of our forest tribes, and not less 
 respected with them than the same institutions among the Hebrews.* 
 The refuge of the Coosaws, therefore, became recognised as such 
 by all the Indians, and ranked, though of inferior size and popula- 
 tion, in no respect below the town of Pocota-ligo. Within its 
 limits that is to say, within the cordon of pines which were 
 blazed to mark its boundaries, the criminal, whatever his evil 
 deed, found certain security. Here he was sacred. The spot was 
 tabooed to the pursuer and the avenger. The furies had to 
 
 * This peculiar institution among the red men, and which se^pns to have 
 existed among all the tribes, however unlike in other respects, constitutes 
 one of the arguments among those who insist upon the aborigines as 
 sprung from the Israelites, and who seek to find among them the remnants 01 
 the Lost Tribes. Adair has devoted a large portion of his otherwise 
 \dnrirable collection of notes to this wild illusion, to sustain which, he 
 ihows himself perversely ingenious ir hia misuse of history and reason.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 17 
 
 remain without. The murderer was safe so long as he kept within 
 the marked circuit. But he might never venture forth with hope to 
 elude his enemy. The vengeance of the red man never sleeps, and 
 is never satisfied while there is still a victim. 
 
 The gray soft tints of an April dawn had scarcely yet begun to 
 lighten in the dim horizon, when the low door of an Indian lodge 
 that lay almost entirely embowered in a forest thicket, less than a 
 mile from Pocota-ligo, might be seen to open, and a tall warrior 
 to emerge slowly and in silence from its shelter. He was followed 
 by a dog, somewhat handsomer than those which usually claim 
 the red man for a master. In his gaunt figure, the beast was some- 
 tlnng of a hound ; but he differed from this animal in his ears, and 
 in the possession of a head exceedingly short and compact. He 
 was probably the cross of a cur upon the beagle. But he was 
 none the less serviceable to his present owner. The warrior was 
 armed after the Indian fashion. The long straight bow, with a 
 bunch of arrows, probably a dozen in number, suspended by a 
 thong of deerskin, hung loosely upon his shoulders. His hatchet 
 or tomahawk, the light weapon, a substitute for the stone hatchet, 
 introduced by the colonists, was slightly secured to his waist by a 
 girdle of the same material. His dress, which fitted tightly to his 
 person, indicated a frequent intercourse with the whites ; since it 
 had been adapted to the shape of the wearer, instead of being 
 worn loosely as the bearskin of preceding ages. Such an alteration 
 in the national costume was found to accord more readily with the 
 pursuits of the savage than the flowing garments which he had 
 worn before. Until this improvement, he had been compelled, in 
 battle or the chase, to throw aside the cumbrous covering which 
 neutralized his swiftness, and to exhibit himself in that state of 
 perfect nudity, which was scarcely less offensive to the Indians than 
 to more civilized communities. The warrior before us. had been 
 among U< j first to avail himself of the arts of the whites in 
 the improvement of the costume ; nay, he had taken other lessons, 
 of even greater value, from the superior race. But of these here- 
 after. He wore a sort of pantaloons, the seams of which had been 
 permanently secured with strings, unsewed, but tied. They were 
 made of tanned buckskin of the brightest yellow, and of as tight
 
 18 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 a fit as the most punctilious dandy in modern times would insist 
 upon. An upper garment, also of buckskin, made with more 
 regard to freedom of limb, and called by the whites a hunting- 
 shirt, completed the dress. Sometimes, such was its make, the 
 wearer threw it as a sort of robe loosely across his shoulders; 
 secured thus with the broad belt, either of woollen cloth or of the 
 same material, which usually accompanied the garment. In the 
 instance of which we speak, it sat upon the wearer pretty much 
 after the manner of a modern gentleman's frock. Buskins, or as 
 named among them, mocasins, also of the skin of the deer, tanned, 
 or in its natural state, according to caprice or emergency, enclosed 
 his feet tightly ; and without any other garment, and entirely free 
 from the profusion of gaudy ornaments so common to the Indiana 
 in modern times, and of which they seem so extravagantly 
 fond, the habit of our new acquaintance may be held complete. 
 Ornament, indeed, of any description, would certainly have done 
 little, if anything, towards the improvement, in appearance, of the 
 individual before us. His symmetrical person majestic, port 
 keen, falcon eye calm, stern, deliberate expression, and elevated 
 head would have been enfeebled, rather than improved by the 
 Addition of beads and gauds, the tinsel and glitter so common to 
 the savage now. His form was large and justly proportioned. 
 Stirring event and trying exercise had given it a confident, free, and 
 manly carriage, which the air of decision about his eye and mouth 
 admirably tallied with and supported. He might have been about 
 fifty years of age ; certainly he could not have been less ; though 
 we arrive at this conclusion rather from the strong, acute, and 
 sagacious expression of his features than from any mark of feeble- 
 ness or age. Unlike the Yemassees generally, who seem to haVe 
 been of an elastic and frank temper, the chief for he is such 
 whom we describe, seemed one, like Cassius, who had learned to 
 despise all the light employs of life, and now only lived in the con- 
 stant meditation of deep scheme and subtle adventure. He moved 
 and looked as one with a mind filled to overflowing with restless 
 thought, whose spirit, crowded with impetuous feelings, kept up 
 constant warfare with the more deliberate and controlling reason. 
 Thus appearing, and Hlowed closely by his dog, advancing from
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 19 
 
 the shelter of his wigwam, he drew tightly the belt about his waist, 
 and feeling carefully the string of his bow, as if to satisfy himself 
 tliKt it was unfrayed and could be depended upon, prepared to go 
 forth into the forest. He had proceeded but a little distance, how- 
 ever, when, as if suddenly recollecting something he had forgotten, 
 he returned hurriedly to the dwelling, and tapping lightly upon the 
 door which had been closed upon his departure, spoke as follows to 
 some one within : 
 
 " The knife, Matiwan, the knife." 
 
 He was answered in a moment by a female voice ; the speaker, 
 an instant after, unclosing the door and handing him the instrument 
 he required the long knife, something like the modern case-knife, 
 which, introduced by the whites, had been at once adopted by the 
 Indians, as of all other things that most necessary to the various 
 wants of the hunter. Protected, usually, as in the present instance, 
 by a leathern sheath, it seldom or never left the person of its owner. 
 It was somewhat singular, indeed, that an Indian warrior and hunter 
 should have forgotten so important an implement, but the fact will 
 better illustrate the vexed and disquieted nature of the chief's mind, 
 which was greatly troubled from peculiar causes, than any act or 
 omission besides. The chief received the knife, and placed it along 
 with the tomahawk in the belt around his waist. He was about to 
 turn away, when the woman, but a glimpse of whose dusky but 
 gentle features and dark eyes appeared through the half-closed 
 door, addressed him in a sentence of inquiry, in her own language, 
 only remarkable for the deep respectfulness of its tone. 
 
 " Sanutee, the chief will he not come back with the night ?" 
 
 " He will come, Matiwan lie will come. But the lodge of the 
 ivhite man is in the old house of the deer, and the swift-foot steals 
 oft' from the clear water where he oncje used to drink. The white 
 man grinds his corn with the waters, and the deer is afraid of the 
 noise. Sanutee will hunt for him in the far swamps and the night 
 will be dark before he comes back to Matiwan." 
 
 " Sanutee chief," she again spoke in a faltering accent, as if to 
 prepare the way for something else, of the success of which, in his 
 ears, she seemed more doubtful ; but she paused without finishing 
 the sentence. 

 
 20 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Sanutee lias ears, Matiwaa ears always for Matiwan," was the 
 encouraging response, in a manner and tone well calculated to 
 confirm the confidence which the language was intended to inspire. 
 Half faltering still, however, she proceeded : 
 
 " The boy, Sanutee the boy, Occonestoga " 
 
 lie interrupted her, almost fiercely. 
 
 " Occonestoga is a dog, Matiwan ; he hunts the slaves of the 
 English in the swamps for strong drink. He is a slave himself 
 he has ears for their lies he believes in their forked tongues, and 
 he has two voices for his own people. Let him not look into the 
 lodge of Sauutee. Is not Sanutee the chief of the Yemassee ?" 
 
 "Sanutee is the great chief. But Occonestoga is the son of 
 Sanutee " 
 
 " Sanutee has no son " 
 
 " But Matiwan, Sanutee " 
 
 " Matiwan is the woman who has lain in the bosom of Sanutee ; 
 she has dressed the venison for Sanutee when the great chiefs of 
 the Cherokee sat at his board. Sanutee hides it not under his 
 tongue. The Yemassees speak for Matiwan she is the wife of 
 Sanutee." 
 
 "And mother of Occonestoga," exclaimed the woman hurriedly. 
 
 " No ! Matiwan must not be the mother to a dog. Occonestoga 
 goes with the English to bite the heels of the Yemassee." 
 
 " Is not Ooconestoga a chief of Yemassee ?" asked the woman. 
 
 "Ha! look, Matiwan the great Manneyto has bad spirits that 
 hate him. They go forth and they fear him, but they hate him. Is 
 not Opitchi-Manneyto* a bad spirit?" 
 
 " Sanutee says." 
 
 "But Opitchi-Manneyto works for the good spirit. He works, 
 but his heart is bad he \pves not the work, but he fears the 
 thunder. Occonestoga is the bad servant of Yemassee : he shall 
 hear the thunder, and the lightning shall flash in his path. Go, 
 Matiwan, thou art not the mother of a dog. Go ! Sanutee will 
 come back with the night." 
 
 The eye of the \roman was suffused and full of appeal, as the 
 
 The Yemaaaee Evil Principle.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 21 
 
 chief turned away sternly, in a manner which seemed to forbid all 
 other speech. She watched him silently as he withdrew, until he 
 was hidden from sight by the interposing forest, then sank back 
 sorrowfully into the lodge to grieve over the excesses of an only 
 eon, exiled by a justly incensed father from the abode of which he 
 might have been the blessing and the pride. 
 
 Sanutee, in the meanwhile, pursued his way silently through a 
 narrow by-path, leading to the town of Pocota-ligo, which he 
 reached after a brief period. The town lay in as much quiet as 
 the isolated dwelling he had left. The sun had not yet arisen, and 
 the scattered dwellings, built low and without closeness or order, 
 were partly obscured from sight by the untrimmed trees, almost 
 in the original forest, which shut them in. A dog, not unlike his 
 >vni, growled at him as he approached one of the more conspicuous 
 Iv/ellings, and this was the only sound disturbing the general 
 -Ueuce. He struck quietly at the door, and inquired briefly 
 
 " IsLiagaska he will go with Sanutee ?" 
 
 A boy came at the sound, and in reply, pointing to the woods, 
 gave him to understand while one hand played with the handle 
 of the chief's knife, which he continued to draw from and thrust 
 back into its sheath, without interruption from the wearer that 
 his father had already gone forth. Without further pause or 
 inquiry, Sanutee turned, and taking his way through the body of 
 the town, soon gained the river. Singling forth a canoe, hollowed 
 vjut from a cypress, and which lay with an hundred others drawn 
 up upon the miry bank, he succeeded with little exertion in 
 iaunching it forth into the water, and taking his place upon a seat 
 fixed in the centre, followed by his dog, with a small scull or flap- 
 oar, which he transferred with wonderful dexterity from one hand 
 10 the other as he desired to regulate his course, he paddled himself 
 directly across the river, though then somewhat swollen and 
 mpetuous from a recent and heavy freshet. Carefully concealing 
 his canoe in a clustering shelter of sedge and cane, which grew 
 along the banks, he took his way, still closely followed by his 
 faithful dog, into the bosom of a forest much more dense than that 
 which he had left, and which promised a better prospect of the 
 which he desired.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The red-deer pauses not to crush 
 The broken branch and withered brush, 
 And scarcely may the dry leaves feel 
 His sharp and sudden hoof of steel ; 
 For, startled in the scatter'd wood, 
 In fear be seeks the guardian flood, 
 Then in the forest's deepest haunt, 
 Finds siilter and a time to pant." 
 
 WHAT seemed the object of the chief Sanutee, the most via* 
 and valiant among the Yernassees ? Was it game was it battle < 
 To us seemingly objectless, his coarse had yet a motive. li 
 continued to pursue it alone. It was yet early day, and, though 
 here and there inhabited, no human being save himself seemed 
 stirring in that dim region. His path wound about and sometime* 
 followed the edge of a swamp or bayou, formed by a narrow and 
 turbid creek, setting in from the river, and making one of. tht 
 thousand indentations common to all streams coursing through the 
 level flats of the southern country. He occupied an hour or more 
 fn rounding this bayou ; and then, with something of directness in 
 his progress, he took his way down the river bank and toward* 
 the settlement of the whites. 
 
 Yet their abodes or presence seemed not his object. Whenever, 
 here and there, as he continued along the river, the larger log 
 hovel of the pioneer met his sight, shooting up beyond the limits 
 of civilization, and preparing the way for its approach, the Indian 
 chief would turn aside from the prospect with ill-concealed disgust. 
 
 " He would the plain 
 
 Lay in its tall old groves again." 
 
 Now and then, as perched on some elevated bank, and plying 
 the mysteries of his woodcraft, hewing his timber, cleaning hi*
 
 . THE YEMASSEE 28 
 
 land, or breaking the earth the borderer rose before his glanc^ 
 in the neighbourhood of his half-finished wigwam, singing out 
 some cheery song of the old country, as much for the strengthen- 
 ing of his resolve as for the sake of the music, the warrior would 
 dart aside into the forest, not only out of sight but out of hearing, 
 nor return again to the road he was pursuing until fairly removed 
 from the chance of a second contact. This desire to escape the 
 sight of the intrusive race, was not, however, to be so readily 
 indulged ; for the progress of adventure and the long repose from 
 strife in the neighbourhood had greatly encouraged the settlers ; 
 and it was not so easy for Sanutee to avoid the frequent evidences 
 of that enterprise among the strangers, which was the chief cause 
 of his present discontent. Though without anything which might '" 
 assure us of the nature or the mood at work within him, it was yet 
 evident enough that the habitations and presence of the whites 
 brought him nothing but disquiet. He was one of those persons, 
 fortunately for the species, to be found in every country, who are 
 always in advance of the masses clustering around them. He was 
 a philosopher not less than a patriot, and saw, while he deplored, 
 the destiny which awaited his people. He well knew that the 
 superior must necessarily be the ruin of the race which is inferior 
 that the one must either sink its existence in with that of tho 
 other, or it must perish. He was wise enough to see, that, in every 
 case of a leading difference betwixt classes of men, either in colour 
 or organization, such difference must only and necessarily eventu- 
 ate in the formation of castes ; and the one conscious of any infe- 
 riority, whether of capacity or of attraction, so long as they remain 
 in propinquity with the other, will tacitly become subjects if not 
 bondmen. Apart from this foreseeing reflection, Sanutee had 
 already experienced many of those thousand forms of assumption 
 and injury on the part of the whites, which had opened the eyes 
 of many of his countrymen, and taught them, not less than him- 
 self, to know, that a people once conscious of their superiority, will 
 never be found to hesitate long in its despotic exercise over their 
 neighbours. An abstract standard of justice, independent of appe- 
 tite or circumstance, has not often marked the progress of Chrb-
 
 24 THE YEMASSEK. 
 
 tian (so called) civilization, in its proffer of its great good to the 
 naked savage. The confident reformer, who takes sword in one 
 hand and sacrament in the other, has always found it the surest 
 way to rely chiefly on the former agent. Accordingly, it soon 
 grew apparent to the Yemassees, that, while proposing treaties for 
 the purchase of their lands, the whites were never so well satisfied, 
 as when, by one subtlety or another, they contrived to overreach 
 them. Nor was it always that even the show of justice and fair 
 bargaining was preserved by the new comer to his dusky brother. 
 The irresponsible adventurer, removed from the immediate surveil- 
 lance of society, committed numberless petty injuries upon the pro- 
 perty, and sometimes upon the person of his wandering neighbour, 
 without being often subject to the penalties awarded by his own 
 people for the punishment of such offences. From time to time^ 
 as the whites extended their settlements, and grew confident in 
 their increasing strength, did their encroachments go on ; until the 
 Indians, originally gentle and generous enough, provoked by 
 repeated aggression, were not unwilling to change their habit for 
 one of strife and hostility, at the first convenient opportunity. At 
 the head of those of the Yemassees entertaining such a feeling, 
 Sanutee stood pre-eminent. A chief and warrior, having great 
 influence with the nation, and once exercising it warmly in favour 
 of the English, he had, however, come to see more certainly than 
 the rest of his people, the degradation which was fast dogging 
 their footsteps. Satisfied of the ultimate destinies of his nation, 
 unless arrested in its descent to ruin, his mind was now wholly 
 delivered up to meditations upon measures, designed for relief and 
 redress. With a sagacity and intelligence, such as are seldom to 
 be found among any uncivilized people, he discussed with himself 
 every possible form of remedy for the evils and dangers of his race, 
 which could be conceived by a resolute and thinking spirit, warmed 
 by patriotism and desirous of justice. We shall see, in the sequel, 
 how deeply he had matured the remedy, and how keenly he had 
 felt the necessity calling for its application. 
 
 At length his wanderings brought him to a cottage more taste 
 fully constructed than the rest, having a neat veranda in front, and 
 half concealed by the green foliage of a thickly clustering set (
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 25 
 
 vines. It was the abode of the Rev. John Matthews,* an old 
 English Puritan, who had settled there with his wife and daughter, 
 and officiated occasionally as a pastor, whenever a collection of his 
 neighbours gave him an opportunity to exhort. He was a stern 
 and strict, but a good old man. He stood in the veranda as Sanu- 
 tee came in sight. The moment the chief beheld him, he turned 
 away with a bitter countenance, and resolutely avoiding the house 
 .intil he had gone around it, took no manner of heed of the friendly 
 hail which the old pastor had uttered on seeing him approach. 
 
 This proceeding was unusual : Sanutee and the preacher had 
 always before maintained the best understanding. The unctuous 
 exhortations of the latter had frequently found a profound listener 
 in the red chief, and more than once had the two broken bread 
 together, in the cottage of the one or the wigwam of the other. The 
 good pastor, however, did not suffer his surprise a,t Sanutee's con- 
 duct to linger in his memory long. He was not of the class who 
 love to brood over the things that bewilder them. " It is strange, 
 verily," quoth he, as he saw the chief turn aside abruptly, and in 
 silence, " very strange ; what has vexed him, I wonder !" and hero 
 his reflections ended in regard to a proceeding which an old poli- 
 tician of the woods might have meditated with profit to the 
 future. 
 
 Meanwhile, pursuing a winding route, and as much as possible 
 keeping the river banks, while avoiding the white settlements, the 
 Indian warrior had spent several hours since his first departure. 
 He could not well be said to look for game, though, possibly, as 
 much from habit as desire, he watched at intervals the fixed gaze 
 of his keenly scented dog, as it would be concentrated upon the 
 
 * One of the express conditions upon which the original patent of 
 Charles II. was granted to the lord proprietors of Carolina, was their pro- 
 mulgation of the gospel among the Indians. Upon this charitable object 
 ibe mission of Mr. Matthews was undertaken, though it may be well to 
 add, that one of the grounds of objection made subsequently to the 
 proprietary charter was the neglect of the duty. An objection not so 
 well founded when we consider the difficulties which the roving habits of 
 the savages must at all times and of necessity throw in the way of euofc 
 .abours. 
 
 2
 
 2$ THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 woods on either side now hearing and encouraging his cry, aa he 
 set upon the track of deer or turkey, and pursuing digressively the 
 occasional route of the animal whenever it seemed that there was 
 any prospect of his success. As yet, however, the chase, such as 
 it was, had resulted in nothing. The dog would return from cover, 
 forego the scent, and sluggishly, with drooping head and indolent 
 spirit, silently trip along either before or behind his master. 
 
 It was about mid-day when the chief rested beside a brooklet, 
 or, as it is called in the south, a branch, that trickled across the 
 path ; and taking from the leathern pouch which he carried at his 
 side a strip of dried venison, and a small sack of parched Indian 
 meal, he partook of the slight repast which his ramble had made 
 grateful enough. Stooping over the branch, he slaked his thirst 
 from the clear waters, and giving the residue of his food to the 
 dog, who stood patiently waiting for the boon, he prepared to con- 
 tinue his forward progress. 
 
 It was not long before he reached the Block House of the set- 
 tlers the most remote garrison station of the English upon that 
 river. It had no garrison at this time, however, and was very 
 much out of repair. Such had been the friendship of the Yemas- 
 sees heretofore with the Carolinians, that no necessity seemed to 
 exist, in the minds of the latter, for maintaining it in better order. 
 The Block House marked the rightful boundary of the whites 
 upon the river. Beyond this spot, they had as yet acquired no 
 claim of territory ; and, hitherto, the Indians, influenced chieflv 
 by Sanutee and others of their chiefs, had resolutely refused to 
 make any further conveyance, or to enter into any new treaty for 
 its disposal. But this had not deterred the settlers, many of whom 
 had gone considerably beyond the limit, and suffered no interrup- 
 tion. All of these were trespassers, therefore, and in a trial of 
 right would have been soon dispossessed ; but in the event of such 
 an effort, no treaty would have been necessary to yield sufficient 
 sanction to the adventurers for a defence by arms of their posses- 
 sions ; and many of the borderers so obtruding were of a class to 
 whom the contiguity of the Indians was quite as grateful, and pro- 
 bably as safe, as that of their own colour. In the neighbourhood 
 of the Block House, however, the settlements had been much mor
 
 TIIE YEMASSEE. 27 
 
 numerous. The families, scattered about at a distance of two, 
 three, or four miles from one another, could easily assemble in its 
 shelter in the chance of any difficulty. The fabric itself was 
 chiefly constructed for temporary use as a place of sudden refuge 
 and could with comparative ease be defended by a few stout hearts 
 and hands, until relief could reach them from their brethren on 
 the coast. Though not upon the river, yet the distance of this 
 fortress from it was inconsiderable a mile or more, perhaps, 
 and with an unobstructed path to a convenient landing. Retre.it 
 was easy, therefore, by this route, and succours by the same way 
 could reach them, though all the woods around were filled with 
 enemies. It was built after the common plan of such buildings at 
 the time. An oblong square of about an acre was taken in by a 
 strong line of pickets, giving an area upon either end of the build- 
 ing, but so narrow that the pickets in front and rear actually made 
 up part of the fabric, and were immediately connected with its. 
 foundation timbers. The house consisted of two stories, the uppel 
 being divided by a thick partition into two apartments, with a sin 
 gle clumsy window of about three feet square in the sides of each. 
 These windows, one or other, faced all the points of the compass ; 
 and loopholes, besides, were provided for musket shooting. Be- 
 yond the doorway there was no other opening in the stout logs of 
 which the walls were made. The lower story was a sort of great 
 hall, having neither floor nor division. The only mode of reach- 
 ing the upper story, was a common ladder, which might be planted 
 indifferently against the trap-openings of each of the chambers; 
 each being thus provided separately from the others, though a 
 slight effort only was necessary to throw these several apartments 
 into one. A line of loopholes below, at proper intervals, seemed 
 to complete the arrangements for the defence of this rude, but 
 sufficient structure, serving for the exercise of sharpshooters against 
 an approaching enemy. The house was built of pine logs, put toge- 
 ther as closely as the nature of the material and the skill of tho 
 artificers would permit ; and, save through the apertures and win- 
 dows described, was impervious to a musket bullet. It was suffi- 
 ciently spacious for the population of the country, as it then stood, 
 and the barrier made by the high pickets, on either side, was itself
 
 28 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 no mean obstacle in a sudden fray. A single entrance to the right 
 area gave access to the building, through a doorway, the only one 
 ' which it possessed, opening in that quarter. The gate was usuallj 
 of oak, stoutly made, and well ribbed, but, in the present instance, 
 it was wanting entirely, having been probably torn off and carried 
 away by some of the borderers, who found more use for it than 
 for the fortress. The friendly terms of relationship, between the 
 red men and the whites, had led to the utter neglect, and almost 
 total abandonment of their fortress by the latter. Men too much 
 love their ease not to believe promptly in the signs that encourage 
 confidence, and our woodmen, a people bold and adventurous, are 
 usually quite as reckless and incautious as adventurous. True, a 
 few hours might restore the Block House, but in seasons of sur- 
 prise a few hours is an eternity. We might as well expect tin 
 one as hope the other. 
 
 From the Block House, which Sanutee examined both within 
 and without with no little attention and some show of discontent, 
 he proceeded towards the river. A little duck-like thing a sort 
 of half schooner, but of very different management and rigging, 
 lay in the stream, seemingly at anchor. There was no show of 
 men on board, but at a little distance from her a boat rowed by 
 two sailors, and managed by a third, was pulling vigorously up 
 stream. The appearance of this vessel, which he beheld now for 
 the first time, seemed to attract much of his attention ; but as 
 there was no mode of communication, and as she showed no flag, 
 he was compelled to stifle his curiosity, from whatever cause it 
 might have sprung. Leaving the spot, therefore, after a brief 
 examination, he plunged once more into the forest, and as he took 
 his way homeward, with more seeming earnestness than before, he 
 urged his dog upon the scent, while unslinging his bow, and tight- 
 ening the cord of sinews until the elastic yew twanged at the 
 slight pressure which he gave it ; then choosing carefully the 
 arrows, three in number, which he released from the string which 
 bound the rest, he seemed now for the first time to prepare himself 
 in good earnest for the hunt. In thus wandering from cover to 
 cover, he again passed the greater number of the white settle- 
 ments in that precinct, and, in the course of a couple of hours.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 29 
 
 had found his way to a spacious swamp, formed by the overflow 
 of the river immediately at hand, and familiarly known to the 
 warrior as a great hiding-place for game. He perceived t this 
 point that the senses of the intelligent dog became quickened and 
 forward, and grasping him by the slack skin of the neck, he led 
 him to a tussock running along at the edge of the swamp, and in 
 a zigzag course passing through it, and giving him a harking cheer 
 common to the hunters, he left him and made a rapid circuit to 
 an opposite point, where a ridge of land, making out from the 
 bosom of the swamp, and affording a freer outlet, was generally 
 known as a choice stand for the affrighted and fugitive deer. He 
 had not long reached the point and taken cover, before, stooping 
 to the earth, he detected the distant baying of the dog, in anxious 
 pursuit, keeping a direct course, and approaching, as was the usual 
 habit, along the little ridge upon the border of which he stood. 
 Sinking back suddenly from sight, he crouched beside a bush, 
 and placing his shaft upon the string, and giving all ear to the 
 sounds which now continued to approach, he stood in readiness for 
 his victim. In another moment and the boughs gave way, the 
 broken branches were whirled aside in confusion, and, breaking 
 forth with headlong bound and the speed of an arrow, a fine buck 
 of full head rushed down the narrow ridge and directly on the 
 path occupied by the Indian. With his appearance, the left foot 
 of the hunter was advanced, the arrow was drawn back until the 
 barb chafed upon the elastic yew, then whizzing, with a sharp 
 twang and most unerring direction, it penetrated in another instant 
 the brown sides of the precipitate animal. A convulsive and 
 upward leap testified the sudden and sharp pang which he felt ; 
 but he kept on, and, just at the moment when Sanutee, having 
 fitted another arrow, was about to complete what he had so well 
 begun, a gunshot rang from a little copse directly in front of him, 
 to which the deer had been flying for shelter. This ended his 
 progress. With a reeling stagger which completely arrested his 
 unfinished leap, the victim sank sprawling forward upon the earth, 
 in the last agonies of death.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "This man IB not of . his ways are strange, 
 And his looks stranger. Wherefore does h 
 What are his labours here, his name, his purpose, 
 And who are they that know and speak for him?" 
 
 THE incident just narrated had scarcely taken place, when the dog 
 of the Indian chief bounded from the cover, and made towards 
 the spot where the deer lay prostrate. At the same instant, 
 emerging from the copse whence the shot had proceeded, and 
 which ran immediately alongside the victim, came forward the 
 successful sportsman. He was a stout, strange looking person, 
 rough and weather-beaten, had the air, and wore a dress fashioned 
 something like that of the sailor. He was of middle stature, stout 
 and muscular, and carried himself with the yawing, see-saw motion, 
 which marks the movements generally upon land of that class of 
 men. Still, there was something about him that forbade the idea 
 of his being a common seaman. There was a daring insolence 
 of look and gesture, which, taken in connexion with the red, fall 
 face, and the watery eye, spoke of indulgences and a habit of un- 
 restraint somewhat inconsistent with one not accustomed to 
 authority. His dress was that of the seaman, but implied no or- 
 dinary service. It was that of a person who had his fancies, as 
 well as ample means. It was fashioned of the very finest stuffs 
 of the time. He wore a blue jacket, studded thickly with buttons 
 that hung each by a link, and formed so many pendent knoLs of 
 solid gold ; and there was not a little ostentation in the thick and 
 repeated folds of the Spanish chain, made of the same rich 
 material, which encircled his neck. His pantaloons, free, like the 
 Turkish, were also of a light blue cloth, and a band of gold lace 
 ran down upon the outer seam of each leg, from the hip to tin- 
 heel. A small dirk, slightly curved, like that worn by the
 
 THfi YEMASSEE. 31 
 
 officers of our navj in modern times, was the only apparent 
 weapon which he carried, beyond the short, heavy German rifle 
 he had just used so successfully. 
 
 The deer had scarcely fallen when this personage advanced 
 towards him from the wood. The shot had been discharged at a 
 trifling distance from the deer, which was pushing for the direct 
 spot where the stranger had been stationed. It had penetrated 
 the breast, and was almost instantly fatal. A few moments served 
 to bring him to his victim, while Sanutee from the other end of 
 the copse also came forward. Before either of them could get 
 sufficiently nigh to prevent him, the dog of the chief, having 
 reached the deer, at once, with the instinct of his nature, struck 
 his teeth into his throat, and began tearing it voraciously for the 
 blood, which the Indian sportsman invariably encouraged him to 
 drink. The stranger bellowed to him with the hope to arrest his 
 appetite, and prevent him from injuring the meat ; but, accus- 
 tomed as the dog had been to obey but one master, and to ac- 
 knowledge but a single language, he paid no attention to the loud 
 cries and threats of the seaman, who now, hurrying forward with 
 a show of more unequivocal authority, succeeded only in transfer- 
 ring the ferocity of the dog from his prey to himself. Lifting his 
 gun, he threatened but to strike, and the animal sprang furiously 
 upon him. Thus assailed, the stranger, in good earnest, with a 
 formidable blow from the butt of his fusil, sent the enemy reeling ; 
 but recovering in an instant, without any seeming abatement of 
 vigour, with a ferocity duly increased from his injury, he flew with 
 more desperation than ever to the assault, and, being a dog of con- 
 siderable strength, threatened to become a formidable opponent. 
 But the man assailed was a cool, deliberate person, and familiar 
 with enemies of every description. Adroitly avoiding the dash 
 made at his throat by the animal, he contrived to grapple with 
 him as he reached the earth, and with a single hand, with an ex- 
 ercise of some of the prodigious muscle which his appearance 
 showed him to possess, he held him down, while with the other 
 hand he deliberately released his dirk from its sheath. Sanutee, 
 who was approaching, and who had made sundry efforts to call off 
 the infuriated dog, now cried out to the seaman in broken English
 
 32 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 "Knife him not, white man it is good dog, knife him not." . 
 
 But he spoke too late ; and in spite of all the struggles of the 
 animal, with a fierce laugh of derision, the sailor passed the sharp 
 edge of the weapon over his throat The deed was done in an 
 instant. Releasing his hold, which he had still maintained with a 
 grasp of steel, and in spite of all the efforts of the animal, he left 
 him to perish where he lay, and rising, prepared to meet the red- 
 man. The dog, with a single convulsion, lay lifeless at his feet. 
 
 It was fortunate for himself that he was rid of the one assailant so 
 soon ; for he had barely returned his knife to its sheath, and re- 
 sumed his erect posture, when Sanutee, who had beheld the whole 
 struggle which, indeed, did not occupy but a few minutes 
 plunged forward as furiously as the animal had done, and the next 
 instant was upon the stranger. The Indian had hurried forward to 
 save his dog ; and his feelings, roused into rage by what he had 
 witnessed, took from him much of that cautious resolve and pru- 
 dence which an Indian never more exhibits than when his purpose 
 is- revenge. The sudden passions of Sanutee. kindled so unexpect- 
 edly, and by such a loss as that which he had just sustained, 
 deprived him- of his usual coolness. With a howl of fury, as he 
 beheld the sharp knife passing over the throat of his faithful fol- 
 lower, he bounded forward. Throwing aside his bow, which now 
 only impeded his movements, he grappled the stranger with such 
 an embrace from brawny arms as might have compelled even the 
 native bear to cry for quarter. But our red chief had found no 
 easy victim in his grasp. The sailor was a stout fellow, all muscle, 
 bold and fearless, and was prepared for the assault. It was very 
 soon evident that Sanutee, though muscular also, and admirably 
 built, was not exactly a match for his present opponent. He was 
 taller, and less compact, and labored of necessity under a disad- 
 vantage in the trial of strength which ensued, with one so much 
 shorter and more closely set. The conditions of the combat 
 seemed to be perfectly well understood by both parties ; for, with 
 the exception of an occasional exclamation from one or the other, 
 in the first movements of the struggle, no words passed between 
 them. Their arms were interlaced, and their bodies closely locked 
 for a desperate issue, without parley or preparation. At first i*
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 33 
 
 svould have been difficult to say which of the two could possibly 
 prove the better man. The symmetry of the Indian, his manly 
 height, and easy carriage, would necessarily incline the spectator 
 in his favour; but there was a knotted firmness, a tough, sinewy 
 bulk of body in the whole make of his opponent, which, in con- 
 nection with his greater youth, would bring the odds in his favour. 
 If the sailor was the stronger, however, the Indian had arts which 
 for a time served to balance his superiority ; but Sanutee w.-u- 
 exasperated, and this was against him. His enemy had all the 
 advantage of perfect coolness, and a watchful circumspection that 
 seemed habitual. This still defeated, in great part, the subtleties 
 of his assailant. The error of Sanutee was in suffering impulse to 
 defeat reflection, which necessarily came too late, once engaged in 
 the mortal struggle. The Indian, save in the ball-play, is no 
 wrestler by habit. There he may and does wrestle, and death is 
 sometimes the consequence of the furious emulation ; * but such 
 exercise is otherwise unpractised among the aborigines. To regret 
 his precipitation, however, was now of little avail to avoid its 
 evils was the object. 
 
 One circumstance soon gave a turn to the affair, which promised, a 
 :vsult decisive on one side or the other. So close had been the grasp, 
 so earnest the struggle, that neither of them could attempt to free and 
 employ his knife without giving a decided advantage to his enemy ; 
 but in one of those movements which distorted their bodies, until 
 the ground was nearly touched by the knees of both, the knife of 
 the Indian warrior fell from its sheath, and lay beside them upon 
 the turf. To secure its possession was the object, upon which, 
 simultaneously as it were, both their eyes were cast; 'but, duly with 
 the desire, came the necessity of mutual circumspection, and so 
 well aware were they both of this necessity, that, it is probable, but 
 for an unlooked-for circumstance, the battle must have been pro- 
 tracted sufficiently long, by exhausting both parties, to have made 
 it a drawn one. The affair might then have ended in a compro 
 
 * In a fair struggle, engaged in this manly exercise, to kill the antagonist 
 is 'egitiraate with the Indians generally; all other forms of murder call 
 |cr revenge and punishment. 
 
 2*
 
 44 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 raise ; but, it so happened, that, in the perpetual change of ground 
 and position by the Combatants, the foot of Sanutee at length 
 became entangled with the body of his dog. As he felt tlu 
 wrinkling skin glide, and the ribs yield beneath him, an emotion 
 of tenderness, a sort of instinct, operated at once upon him, and, 
 as if fearing to hurt the object, whose utter insensibility he did noi 
 seem at that moment to recollect, he drew up his foot suddenly. 
 and endeavoured to avoid the animal. By separating his legs with 
 this object, he gave his adversary an advantage, of which he did 
 not fail to avail himself. With the movement of Sanutee, he 
 threw one of his knees completely between those of the warrior, 
 and pressing his own huge body at the same time forward upon 
 him, they both fell heavily, still interlocked, upon the now com- 
 pletely crushed carcase of the dog. The Indian chief was par- 
 tially stunned by the fall, but being a-top, the sailor was unhurt. 
 In a moment, recovering himself from the relaxed grasp of his 
 opponent, he rose upon his knee, which he pressed down heavily 
 upon Sanutee's bosom ; the latter striving vainly to possess himself 
 of the tomahawk sticking in his girdle. But his enemy had too 
 greatly the advantage, and was quite too watchful to permit of his 
 succeeding in this effort. The whole weight of one knee rested 
 upon the instrument, which lay in the belt innocuous. With a 
 fearful smile, which spoke a ferocious exultation of spirit, in the 
 next moment the sailor drew the dirk knife from his own side, and 
 flourishing it over the eyes of the defenceless Indian, thus addressed 
 him : 
 
 " And now, what do you say for yourself, you red-skinned devil ? 
 Blast your eyes, but you would have taken my scalp for little or 
 nothing only because of your confounded dog, and he at my 
 throat too. What if I take yours ?" 
 
 "The white man will strike," calmly responded the chief, while 
 his eyes looked the most savage indifference, and the lines of his 
 mouth formed a play of expression the most composed and natural. 
 
 " Ay, d e, but [ will. I'll give you a lesson to keep you out 
 
 of mischief for ever after, or I've lost my reckoning and have no 
 skill in seamanship. Hark ye now, you red devil wherefore did 
 you set upon me? Is a man's blood no better than a dog's ?"
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 35 
 
 " The white man is a dog. I spit upon him," was the reply 
 accompanied, as the chief spoke, with a desperate struggle at 
 release, made with so much earnestness and vigour as for a few 
 moments seemed to promise to be successful. But failing to suc- 
 ceed, the attempt only served to confirm the savage determination 
 of his conqueror, whose coolness at such a moment, more perhaps 
 than anything beside, marked a person to whom the shedding or 
 blood seemed a familiar exercise. He spoke to the victim he was 
 about to strike fatally, with as much composure as if treating a 
 the most indifferent matter. 
 
 " Ay, blast you, btit you're all alike. There's but one way to 
 make sure of a redskin, and that is, to slit his gills whenever there's 
 a chance. I know you'd cut mine soon enough, and that's all I 
 want to know to make me cut yours. Yet, who are you are you 
 one of these Yemassees ? Tell me your name ; I always like to 
 know whose blood I let." 
 
 " Does the white man sleep ? strike ; I do not shut my eyes !.<> 
 the knife." 
 
 " Well, d n it, red-skin, I see you don't want to get off, and 
 I'm not the man to baulk a fellow's spirit when it's his own pleasure 
 to walk the plank. It's as natural to me to cut a red-skin's throat 
 as it is to him to scalp a white ; and you seem to be one of that 
 sort of people whom it's a sort of pleasure to help through the 
 world. And yet, if you are one of these Yemassee red-skins ! " 
 
 This was spoken inquiringly. Sanutee did not answer. Neither 
 did he remain passive. Whether it was that the grasp of the sailor 
 had been somewhat relaxed upon him, that he had somewhat reco- 
 vered his own strength, or beheld in the white man's eye something 
 of that incertitude which seemed to lurk in his language, in spite 
 of its ferocity, it would be difficult to say. But, just at this time, 
 his struggles were renewed, and with a determined effort. But the 
 knife was flourished over his eyes the moment after. 
 
 " Ah ! blast you, there's no saving you ! It's your throat or 
 mine, I see ; so here's at you, with as sharp a tooth as ever bit the 
 throat of white skin or a red !" 
 
 Sanutee threw up an arm to avert the weapon ; but the stroke 
 had been a feint. In another moment the sharp steel was driven
 
 #6 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 towards the side of the victim. The red chief, ere the blow wa? 
 felt, conjectured its direction. His eyes closed, and in his own 
 language he began to mutter sounds which might have embodied 
 his chant of many victories. He had begun his death song. But 
 he still lived. The blow was arrested at the very moment when 
 it was about to penetrate his heart. The sailor, seized from behind, 
 vva.- dragged backwards from the body of his victim by another and 
 a powerful hand. The opportunity to regain his feet was ii^i lost 
 upon the Indian, who, standing now erect with his bared hatchet, 
 again confronted his enemy, without any loss of courage, and on a 
 more equal footing.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Hi* eye hath that within it which affirmi 
 The noble gentleman. Pray you, mark him well ; 
 Without his office we may nothing do 
 Pleasing to this fair company." 
 
 THE sailor turned fiercely, dirk in hand, upon the person who 
 had thus torn him from his victim ; but he met an unflinching 
 front, and a weapon far more potent than his own. The glance of 
 the new comer, not less than his attitude, warned him of the most 
 perfect readiness ; while a lively expression of the eye, and the 
 something of a smile which slightly parted his lips, gave a care- 
 less, cavalier assurance to his air, which left it doubtful whether, 
 in reality, he looked upon a contest as even possible at that mo- 
 ment. The stranger was about thirty years old, with a rich Euro- 
 pean complexion, a light blue eye, and features moulded finely, so 
 as to combine manliness with as much of beauty as might well 
 comport with it. He was probably six feet in height, straight as 
 an arrow, and remarkably well and closely set. He wore a dress 
 common among the gentlemen of that period and place a sort of 
 compound garb, in which the "fashion of the English cavalier of 
 the second Charles had been made to coalesce in some leading 
 particulars with that which, in the American forests, seemed to be 
 imperatively called for by the novel circumstances and mode of 
 life prevailing in the region. The sur-coat was of a dark blue 
 stuff, usually worn open at the bosom, and displaying the rich folds 
 of the vest below to the taste of the wearer, but which on the pre- 
 sent occasion was of the purest white. The underclothes were of 
 a light gray, fitting closely a person which they happily accom- 
 modated, yet served admirably to display. His buskins were like 
 those worn by the Indians. A broad buckskin belt encircled his 
 waist, and secured the doublet which came midway down his 
 :high. In his hand he carried a light fusil of peculiarly graceful 
 
 272003
 
 38 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 make for that period, and richly ornamented with drops of silvei 
 let in tastefully along the stock, so as to shape vaguely a va/iety 
 of forms and figures. The long knife stuck in his belt was his 
 only other weapon ; and this, forming as it does one of the most 
 essential implements of woodcraft, we may scarcely consider it 
 under that designation. A white Spanish hat, looped broadly up 
 at one of the sides, and secured with a small button of gold, 
 rested slightly upon his head, from which, as was the fashion of 
 the time, the brown hair in long clustering ringlets depended about 
 the neck. 
 
 The sailor, as we have said, turned immediately upon the person 
 who, so opportunely for Sanutee, had torn him from the body of 
 the Indian ; but he encountered the presented rifle, and the clicking 
 of the cock assured him of the perfect readiness of him who carried 
 it to encounter his enemy in any way that he might choose. There 
 was that in the stranger's eye which showed him to be as cool and 
 confident, as lie was vigorous and young. The sailor saw that he 
 was no child that he was not less powerful of make than the red 
 man, and if his muscles had not yet the same degree of hardihood, 
 they were yet much more flexible for use. The single, sudden effort 
 by which he had been drawn away from his victim, indicated the 
 possession of a degree of strength which made the sailor pause and 
 move cautiously in his advance upon the intruder. 
 
 " Well, my good master," said the seaman, having arrived at 
 some prudent conclusion which tended in a slight degree to mode- 
 rate his fury " what is this matter to you, that you must meddle 
 in other men's quarrels ? Have you so many lives to spare that you 
 must turn my knife from the throat of a wild savage to your own ?" 
 
 " Put up your knife, good Pepperbox put it up while you have 
 permission," said the person so addressed, very complaisantly, "and 
 thank your stars that I came in time to keep you from doing what 
 none of us might soon undo. Know you not the chief would you 
 strike the great chief of the Yemassees our old friend Sanutee 
 the best friend of the English ?" 
 
 " And who the devil cares whether he be a friend to the English 
 or not ? I don't ; and would just as lief cut his throat as yours, i 4 
 I thought proper."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 39 
 
 " fia ! indeed ! you care not whose throat is cut ! you care not 
 for the friends of the English ! very wise indifference that, stand- 
 ing here, as you do, in the midst of an English settlement. Pray, 
 who are you, my good fellow, and whither do you come from ?" 
 
 Such was the response of the Oavalier to the sailor, whom the 
 language of the former seemed fu-' a moment to arouse into his 
 former fury. But this he found it politic to restrain; a necessity 
 which made him not a whit more amiable than before. There was 
 some secret motive or policy, or it might be a sense of moral inferi- 
 ority, in breeding or in station, which seemed to have the effect of 
 keeping down and quelling, in some sort, the exhibitions of a tem- 
 per which otherwise would have prompted him again to blows. 
 The pause which he made, before responding to the last direct 
 enquiry, seemed given to reflection. His manner became su< Idenly 
 more moderate, and his glance rested frequently, and with an 
 enquiring expression, upon the countenance of the Indian. At 
 length, giving a direct reply to the interrogatory of the Cavalier, 
 which seemed a yielding of the strife, he replied, 
 
 " And suppose, fair master, I don't choose to say who I am, and 
 from v/h^nce I come. What then ?" 
 
 "Why then let it alone, my patient Hercules. I care little 
 whether you have a name or not. You certainly cannot have an 
 honest one. For me you shall be Hercules or Nebuchadnezzar 
 you shall be Turk, or Ishmaelite, or the devil it matters not 
 whence a man comes when it is easily seen whither he will go." 
 
 The countenance of the sailor again grew dark with angry pas- 
 sions. The cool, contemptuous, jeering language and manner of 
 the cavalier were almost insupportable to one who had probably felt 
 himself to be as great as Xerxes when on the quarter of his sloop 
 or schooner. He showed clearly in the sudden flashing of his eye, 
 and the reddening darkness of his cheek, that his passion was of a 
 sort to prompt him to instantaneous grapple with his questioner, 
 but he remained stubbornly silent. It was with evident effort, 
 however, that he commenced the process of thinking himself into 
 composure and caution. He had his own reasons, and there were pur- 
 poses in his mind, that compelled him to consideration and forbear- 
 ance. But for too frequent draughts "f .!nmai a, this self-subjection
 
 4() THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 had been more easy from the fiYst. Proceeding in a leisurely man 
 ner to reload his fusil, he offered no interruption to the English- 
 man, who now addressed himself to the Indian. 
 
 " You have suffered a loss, Sauutee, and I'm sorry for it, chief. 
 Hut you shall have another a dog of mine a fine pup which 1 
 have in Charleston. When will you go down to see your English 
 brother at Charleston ?" 
 
 " Who is the brother of Sanutee ?" 
 
 " The governor you have never seen him, and he would like to 
 see you. If you go not to see him, he will think you love him not, 
 and that you lie on the same blanket with his enemies." 
 
 " Sanutee is the chief of the Yemassees he will stay at Pocota- 
 ligo with his people." 
 
 " Well, be it so. I shall send you the dog to Pocota-ligo." 
 
 " Sanutee asks no dog from the warrior of the English. The dog 
 of the. English hunts after the dark-skin of my people." 
 
 " No, no, old chief not so ! I don't mean to give you Dugdale. 
 Dugdale never parts with his master, if I can help it ; but you say 
 wrong. The dog of the English has never hunted the Yemassee 
 warrior. He has only hunted the Savannahs and the Westoes, 
 who were the enemies of the English." 
 
 " The eyes of Sanutee are good he has seen the dog of the 
 English tear the throat of his brother." 
 
 " The charge is a strange one, Sanutee, and I do not understand 
 it. But you are angered now, and perhaps with reason. I shall 
 see you hereafter. I will myself bring to Pocota-ligo, the dog 
 that I promise you. He will prove better than the one you have 
 lost." 
 
 " Sanutee would not see the young brave of the English at 
 Pocota-ligo. Pocota-ligo is for the Yemassees. Let the Coosaw- 
 killer come not/* 
 
 " Hah ! What does all this mean, Sanutee ? Are we not friends ! 
 Are not the Yemassee and the English two brothers, 'hat take 
 the same track, and have the same friends and enemies ! Ts it not 
 30, Sanutee I" 
 
 " Speaks the young chief with a straight tongue he says." 
 
 " I speak truth ; and will come to see you in Pocota-ligo,"
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 41 
 
 " No ; the young brave will come not to Pocota-ligo. It is the 
 season of the corn, and the Yemassee will gather to the festival." 
 
 "The green corn festival ! I must be there, Sanutee, and you 
 must not deny me. You were not wont to be so inhospitable, old 
 chief; nor will I suffer it now. I would see the lodge of the great 
 chie I would partake of the venison some of this fine buck 
 which the hands of Matiwan will dress for the warrior's board 
 this very evening." 
 
 " You touch none of that buck, either of you ; so be not so free, 
 young master. It's my game, and had the red-skin been civil, he 
 should have had his share in it ; but, as it is, neither you nor he 
 lay hands on it ; not a stiver of it goes into your hatch, d n 
 me." 
 
 The sailor had listened with a sort of sullen indifference to the 
 dialogue which had been going on between Sanutee and the new 
 comer ; but his looks indicated impatience not less than sullen- 
 ness ; and he took the opportunity afforded him by the last words 
 of the latter, to gratify, by the rude speech just given, the malig- 
 nity of his excited temper. 
 
 "Why, how now, churl?" was the response of the Englishman, 
 turning suddenly upon the seaman, with a haughty indignation 
 as he spoke " how now, churl ? is this a part of the world where 
 civility is so plentiful that you must fight and quarrel to avoid a 
 surfeit. Hear you, sirrah ; these woods have bad birds for the 
 unruly, and you may find them hard enough to get through if you 
 put not more good humour under your tongue. Take your meat, 
 for a surly savage as you are, and be off as quickly as you can ; 
 and may the first mouthful choke you. Take my counsel, Bully- 
 boy, and clear your joints, or you may chance to get more of your 
 merits than your venison." 
 
 "Who the devil are you, to order me off? I'll go at my 
 pleasure ; and as for the Indian, and as for you " 
 
 "Well, what, Hercules?" 
 
 " Well, look to square accounts with me when I'm ready for 
 the reckoning. There's no sea-room, if I can't have it out of you, 
 perhaps when you're least able to pay out rope." 
 
 " Pooh 1 pooh \ " replied the cavalier, coolly. " You threaten,
 
 42 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 do you ? Well, as you please and when you please ! and now 
 that you have discharged your thunder, will you be good-natured 
 for once, and let your departure be tak3n for a promise of improve- 
 ment in your manner." 
 
 " What, go P 
 
 " Exactly ! You improve in understanding clearly." 
 
 " I'll go when I please. I'll be d d, if I turn my back at the 
 bidding of auy man." 
 
 " You'll be something more than d d, old boy, if you stay. 
 We are two, you see ; and here's ray Hector, who's a little old to 
 be sure, but is more than your match now " and as the English- 
 man spoke, he pointed to the figure of a sturdy black, approaching 
 the group from the copse. 
 
 "And I care not if you were two dozen. You don't scare me 
 with your numbers. I shan't go till it suits my pleasure, for either 
 red-skin, or white-skin, or black-skin ; no, not while my name is ' 
 
 " What ?" was the inquiry of the Englishman, as the speaker 
 paused at the unuttered name ; but the person addressed grinned, 
 with a sort of triumph at having extorted this show of curiosity 
 on the part of the cavalier, and cried : 
 
 "Ah ! you 'd like to know, Would you ? Well, what Ml you give 
 for the information ?" 
 
 " Pshaw !" replied the cavalier, turning from the fellow with 
 contempt, and once more addressing the red chief. 
 
 "Sanutee, do you really mean that you would not see me at 
 Pocota-ligo. Is your lodge shut against your friend. Is there no 
 smoking venison which will be put before me when I come to the 
 lodge of Matiwan. Why is this ? I meant to go home with you 
 this very night." 
 
 Sanutee replied sternly: 
 
 B " The great chief of the Yemassees will go alone. He wants 
 uot that the Coosaw-killer should darken the lodge of Matiwan. 
 Let Harrison" and as he addressed the Englishman by his name, 
 he placed his hand kindly upon his shoulder, and his tones were 
 more conciliatory " let Harrison go down to his ships let him 
 go with the pale-faces to the other lands. Has he not a mother 
 that looks for him at evening ?"
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 43 
 
 " Sanutee," said Harrison, fixing his eye upon him curiously, 
 " wherefore should the English go upon the waters ?" 
 
 " The Yemassees would look on the big woods, and call them 
 their own. The Yemassees would be free." 
 
 "Old chief," exclaimed the Englishman, in a stern but low 
 voice, while his quick, sharp eye seemed to explore the very recesses 
 of the red chief's soul, "Old chief; thou hast spoken with the 
 Spaniard !" 
 
 The Indian paused for an instant, but showed no signs of emotion 
 or consciousness at a charge, which, at that period, and under the 
 then existing circumstances, almost involved the certainty of his 
 hostility towards the Carolinians, with whom the Spaniards of 
 Florida were perpetually at war. He replied, after an instant's 
 hesitation, in a calm, fearless manner : 
 
 " Sanutee is a man he is a father he is a chief the great 
 chief cf the Yemassee. Shall he come to the Coosaw-killer, and 
 ask when he would loose his tongue? Sanutee, when the swift 
 hurricane runs along the woods, goes into the top of the tall pine, 
 and speaks boldly V^ the Manneyto shall he not speak to the 
 English shall he not speak to the Spaniard ? Does Harrison see 
 Sanutee tremble, that his eye looks down into his bosom ? Sanutee 
 has no fear." 
 
 " I know it, chief I know it but I would have you without 
 guile also. There is something wrong, chief, which you will not 
 show me. I would speak to you of this and other matters, neces- 
 sary to the safety and happiness of your people, no less than mine, 
 therefore I would go with you to Pocota-ligo." 
 
 " Pocota-ligo is for the Manneyto it is holy ground the great 
 feast of the green corn is there. The white man may not go when 
 the Yemassee would be alone." 
 
 " But white men are in Pocota-ligo is not Granger there, tL 
 fur trader ?" 
 
 " He will go," replied the chief, evasively. With these words 
 he turned away to depart ; but suddenly, with an air of more 
 interest, returning to the spot where Harrison stood, seemingly in 
 meditation, he again touched his arm, and spoke : 
 
 Harrison will go down to the sea with his people. Let him go
 
 44 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 to Keawah. Does the Coosaw-killer hear ? Sanutee is the wise 
 chief of Yemassee." 
 
 " I am afraid the wise chief of Yeinassee is about to do a great 
 folly. But, for the present, Sanutee, let there be no misunder- 
 standing between us and our people. Is there any thing of which 
 you complain ?" 
 
 " Did Sauutee come on his knees to the English ? He begs not 
 bread he asks for no blanket." 
 
 " True, Sanutee, I know all that I know your pride, and that 
 of your people ; and because I know it, if you have had wrong 
 from our young men, I would have justice done you." 
 
 " The Yemassee is not a child he is strong, he has knife and 
 hatchet and his arrow goes straight to the heart. He begs not 
 for the justice of the English." 
 
 " Yet, whether you beg for it or not, what wrong have they done 
 you, that they have not been sorry ?" 
 
 " Sorry will sorry make the dog of Sanutee to live ?" 
 
 " Is this the wrong of which you complain, Sanutee ? Such 
 wrongs are easily repaired. But you are unjust in the matter. 
 The dog assaulted the stranger, and though he might have been 
 more gentle, and less hasty, what he did seems to have been done 
 in self-defence. The deer was his game." 
 
 " Ha, does Harrison see the arrow of Sanutee ?" and he pointed 
 to the broken shaft still sticking in the side of the animal. 
 
 "True, that is your mark, and would have been fatal after a 
 time, without the aid of gunshot. The other was more immediate 
 in effect." 
 
 " It is well. Sanutee speaks not for the meat, nor for the dog. 
 He begs no justice from the English, and their braves may go to 
 the far lands iu their ships, or they may hold fast to the land 
 which is the Yemassee's. The sun and the storm are brothers 
 Sauutee has said." 
 
 Harrison was about to reply, when his eye caught a glimpse of 
 another person approaching the scene. He was led to observe 
 him, by noticing the glance of the sailor anxiously fixed in the 
 same direction. That personage had cooled off singularly in his 
 savageness of mood, and had been a close and attentive listener to
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 4fc 
 
 the dialogue just narrated. His earnestness had not passed 
 unobserved by the Englishman, whose keenness of judgment, not 
 less than of vision, had discovered something more in the mannei 
 of the sailor than was intended for the eye. Following closely his 
 gaze, while still arguing with Sanutee, he discovered in the new 
 comer the person of one of the most subtle chiefs of the Yemassee 
 nation a dark, brave, collected malignant, Ishiagaska, by name 
 A glance of recognition passed over the countenance of the sailor, 
 but the features of the savage were immoveable. Harrison watched 
 both of them, as the new comer approached, and he was satisfied 
 from the expression of the sailor that the parties knew each other. 
 Once assured of this, he determined in his own mind that his 
 presence should offer no sort of interruption to their freedom ; and, 
 with a few words to Ishiagaska and Sanutee, in the shape of civil 
 wishes and a passing inquiry, the Englishman, who, from his past 
 sonduct in the war of the Carolinians with the Coosaws, had 
 acquired among the Yemassees, according to the Indian fashion, 
 the imposing epithet, so frequently used in the foregoing scene by 
 Sanutee, of Coosah-moray-te or, as it has been Englished, the 
 killer of the Coosaws took his departure from the scene, followed 
 by the black slave, Hector. As he left the group he approached 
 the sailor, who stood a little apart from the Indians, and with a 
 whisper, addressed him in a sentence which he intended should be 
 a test. 
 
 " Hark ye, Ajax ; take safe advice, and be out of the woods as 
 eoon as you can, or you will have a long arrow sticking in your 
 ribs." 
 
 The blunt sense of the sailor did not see further than the osten- 
 sible object of the counsel thus conveyed, and his answer confirmed, 
 to some extent, the previous impression of Harrison touching his 
 acquaintance with Ishiagaska. 
 
 " Keep your advice for a better occasion, and be d d to you, 
 for a conceited whipper-snapper as you are. You are more likely 
 to feel the arrow than I am, and so look to it." 
 
 Harrison noted well the speech, which in itself had little mean- 
 ing ; but it conveyed a consciousness of security on the part of the 
 seaman, after his previous combat with Sanutee, greatly out of
 
 4-6 THE TEMASSEE. 
 
 place, unless he possessed some secret resources upon which to 
 rely. The instant sense of Harrison readily felt this ; but, apart 
 from this, there was something so sinister and so assured in the 
 glance of the speaker, accompanying his words, that Harrison did 
 not longer doubt the justice of his conjecture. He saw that there 
 was business between the seaman and the last-mentioned Indian. 
 He had other reasons for this belief, which the progress of event? 
 will show. Contenting himself with what had been said, he turned 
 away with a lively remark to the group at parting, and, followed 
 by Hector, was very soon hidden from sight in the neighbouring 
 forest.
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 i his course, pursue him to the lart, 
 Hear what he counsels, note thou well his glue*, 
 For the untutored eye hath its own truth. 
 When the tongue speaks in falsehood " 
 
 HARRISON, followed closely by his slave, silently entered the forest, 
 and was soon buried in subjects of deep meditation, which, hidden 
 as yet from us, were in his estimation of the last importance. Hia 
 elastic temper and perceptive sense failed at this moment to suggest 
 to him any of those thousand objects of contemplation in which Le 
 usually took delight. The surrounding prospect was unseen- 'Jie 
 hum of the woods, the cheering cry of bird and grasshopper, eq^Jly 
 unheeded ; and for some time after leaving the scene and ack/s of ' 
 the preceding chapter, he continued in a state of mental ab^trac- 
 tion, which was perfectly mysterious to his attendant. Hector 
 though a slave, was a favourite, and his offices were rather those of 
 the humble companion than of the servant. He regarded the pre- 
 sent habit of his master with no little wonderment. In truth, Har- 
 rison was not often in the mood to pass over and disregard the 
 varieties of the surrounding scenery, in a world so new and beau- 
 tiful, as at the present moment he appeared. On the contrary, he 
 was one of those men, of wonderful common sense, who could rea- 
 dily, at all times, associate the mood of most extravagance and life 
 with that of the most every-day concern. Cheerful, animated, 
 .playful, and soon excited, he was one of those singular combina- 
 tions, which attract us greatly when we meet with them, in whom 
 constitutional enthusiasm and animal life, in a development of 
 extravagance sometimes little short of madness, are singularly 
 enough mingled up with a capacity equal to the most trying requi- 
 sitions of necessity, and the most sober habits of reflection. Unu- 
 sually abstracted as he now appeared to the negro, the latter, 
 though a favourite, knew better than to break in upon his mood,
 
 48 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 and simply kept close at hand, to meet any call that might be made 
 upon his attention. By this time they had reached a small knoll 
 of green overlooking the river, which, swollen by a late freshet, 
 though at its full and falling, had overflowed its banks, and now 
 ran along with some rapidity below them. Beyond, and down the 
 stream, a few miles off, lay the little vessel to which we have already 
 given a moment's attention. Her presence seemed to be as myste- 
 rious in the eye of Harrison, as, previously, it had appeared to that 
 of Sanutee. Dimly outlined in the distance, a slender shadow 
 darkening an otherwise clear and mirror-like surface, she lay sleep- 
 ing, as it were, upon the water, not a sail in motion, and no gaudy 
 ensign streaming from her tops. 
 
 " Hector," said his master, calling the slave, while he threw 
 himself lazily along the knoll, and motioned the negro near him : 
 " Hector." 
 
 Yes, sah Maussa." 
 
 " You marked that sailor fellow, did you, Hector T 
 
 '' I bin see urn, Maussa." 
 
 il What is he ; what do you think of him ?" 
 
 " I tink nbtin bout 'em, sah. Nebber see 'em afore no like he 
 look." 
 
 " Nor I, Hector nor L He comes for no good, and we must see 
 to him." 
 
 " I tink so, Maussa." 
 
 " Now look down the river. When did that strange vessel 
 come up ?" 
 
 " Nebber see 'em till dis morning, Maussa, but speck he come p 
 yesserday. Mass Nichol, de doctor, wha' talk so big da him fuss 
 show 'em to me dis morning." 
 
 " What said Nichols ?" 
 
 " He say 'tis English ship ; den he say 'tis no English, 'tis Dutch 
 but soon he change he inin', and say 'tis little Dutch and little 
 Spaniard : after dat he make long speech to young Mass Hugh 
 Grayson." 
 
 " What said Grayson ?" 
 
 " He laugh at de doctor, make de doctor cross, and den he cu 
 for a d m black rascal."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 49 
 
 " That made you cross too, eh 2" 
 
 " Certain, Maussa ; 'cause Mass Nichol hab no respectability for 
 nigger in 'em, and talk widout make proper osservation." 
 
 " Well, no matter. But did Grayson say anything about the 
 
 " He look at 'em long time, sah, but he nebber say noting ; but 
 wid long stick he write letter in de sand. Dat young Grayson, 
 Mass Charles he strange gentleman berry strange gentleman." 
 
 " How often must I tell you, Hector, not to call me by any name 
 here but Gabriel Harrison ? will you never remember, you scoundrel ?' r 
 
 "Ax pardon, Maussa 'member next time." 
 
 "Do so, old boy, or we quarrel: -and now, hark you, Hector, 
 since you know nothing of this vessel, I'll make you wiser. Look 
 down over to Moccasin Point under the long grass at the edge, 
 and half covered by the canes, and tell me what you see there." 
 
 " Da boat, Maussa. I swear da boat. Something dark lie in de 
 bottom." 
 
 ." That is a boat from the vessel, and what you see lying dark in 
 the bottom, are the two sailors that rowed it up. That sailor- 
 follow came in it, and he is the captain. . Now, what does he come 
 for, do you think ?" 
 
 " Speck, sa, he come for buy skins from de Injins." 
 
 "No : that craft is no trader. She carries guns, but conceals 
 them with box and paint. She is built to run and fight, not to 
 carry. I looked on her closely this morning. Her paint is Spa- 
 nish, not English. Besides, if she were English, what would she 
 be doing here ? Why run up this river, without stopping at 
 Charleston or Port Royal why keep from the landing here, 
 avoiding the whites ; and why is her officer pushing up into the 
 Indian country beyond our purchase ?" 
 
 " He hab 'ting for sell de Injins, I speck, Maussa." 
 
 "Scarcely they have nothing to buy with; it is only a few 
 days since Granger came up from Port Royal, where he had car- 
 ried all the skins of their last great hunt, and it will be two weeks 
 at least before they go on another. No no. They get from us what 
 we are willing to sell them ; and this vessel brings them those things 
 which they cannot get from us fire-arms and ammunition, Hector." 
 3
 
 50 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " You tink so, Maussa." 
 
 " You shall find out for both of us, Hector. Are your eyes open ?" 
 " Yes, Maussa, I kin sing like mocking bird," .... and the 
 fellc w piped up cheerily, as he spoke in a familiar negro doggrel. 
 
 "'Possum up a gum-tree 
 Racoon in de hollow, 
 In de grass de yellow snake, 
 In de clay de swallow.' " 
 
 "Evidence enough. Now, hear me. This sailor fellow comes 
 from St. Augustine, and brings arms to the Yemassees. I know it, 
 else why should he linger behind with Sanutee and Ishiagaska, 
 after his quarrel with the old chief, unless he knew of something 
 which must secure his protection ? I saw his look of recognition 
 to Ishiagaska, although the savage, more cunning than himself, 
 kept his eye cold and yes, it must be so. You shall go," said 
 his master, hah musingly, half direct. " You shall go. When 
 did Granger cross to Pocota-ligo ? " 
 
 " Dis morning, Maussa." 
 
 " Did the commissioners go with him ? " 
 
 " No, sah : only tree gentlemans gone wid him." 
 
 " Who were they ? " 
 
 "Sa Edmund Bellinger, who lib close 'pon Asheepoh Mass 
 Steben Latham, and nodder one I no hab he name." 
 
 " Very well they will answer well enough for commissioners. 
 Where have you left Dugdale ? " 
 
 " I leff um wid de blacksmith, him dat lib down pass de Chief 
 Bluff." 
 
 " Good ; and now, Hector, you must take the track after this 
 sailor." 
 
 "Off hand, Maussa?" 
 
 "Yes, at once. Take the woods here^and make the sweep of 
 the cypress, so as to get round them. Keep clear of the river, for 
 that sailor will make no bones of carrying you off to St. Augus- 
 tine, or to the West Indies, if he gets a chance. Watch if he 
 goes with the Indians. See all that you can of their moveruents.
 
 THE TEMASSEE. 51 
 
 and let them uot see you. Should they find you out, be as stupid 
 as a pine stump." 
 
 " And whay I for fin' you, Maussa, when I come back? Atde 
 parson's, I speck." The slave smiled knowingly as he uttered the 
 last member of the sentence, and looked significantly into the face 
 of his master, with a sidelong glance, his mouth at the same time 
 showing v his full white array of J>ig teeth, stretching away like 
 those of a shark, from ear to ear. N 
 
 " Perhaps so," said his master, quietly and without seeming to 
 observe the peculiar expression of his servant's face " perhaps so, 
 if you come back soon. I shall be there for a while ; but to-night 
 7ou will probably find me at the Block House. Away now, and 
 see that you sleep not ; keep your eye open lest they trap you." 
 
 " Ha, Maussa. Dat eye must be bright like de moon for trap 
 Hector." 
 
 "I hope so keep watchful, for if that sailor-fellow puts hands 
 upon you, he will cut your throat as freely as he did the dog's, 
 and probably a thought sooner." 
 
 Promising strict watchfulness, the negro took his way back into 
 the woods, closely following the directions of his master. Har- 
 rison, meanwhile, having dispatched this duty so far, rose buoy- 
 antly from the turf, and throwing aside the sluggishness which for 
 the last half hour had invested him, darted forward in a fast walk in 
 the direction of the white settlements ; still, however, keeping as 
 nearly as he might to the banks of the river, and still with an eye 
 that closely scanned at intervals the appearance of the little vessel 
 which, as we have seen, had occasioned so much doubt and 
 inquiry. It was not often that a vessel of her make and size had 
 been seen up that little insulated river ; and as, from the know- 
 ledge of Harrison, there could be little or no motive of trade for 
 such craft in that quarter the small business intercourse of the 
 whites with the Indians being soon transacted, and through 
 mediums far less imposing the suspicions of the Englishman 
 were justified and not a little excited, particularly as he had 
 known for some time the increasing discontent among the savages. 
 The fact, too, that the vessel was a stranger, and that her crew and 
 captain had kept studiously aloof from the whites, and had sent
 
 52 THE YEMASSEBT 
 
 their boat to land at a point actually within the Indiai. boundary, 
 was, of itself, enough to prompt the most exciting surmises. The 
 ready intelligence of Harrison at once associated the facts with a 
 political object; and being also aware, by previous information, 
 that Spanish guarda-costas, as the cutters employed at St. Augus- 
 tine for the protection of the coast were styled, had been seen to 
 put into almost every river and creek in the English territory, from 
 St. Mary's to Hatteras, and within a recent period, the connected 
 circumstances were well calculated to excite the scrutiny of all 
 well-intentioned citizens. 
 
 The settlement of the English in Carolina, though advancing 
 with wonderful rapidity, was yet in its infancy ; and the great 
 jealousy which their progress had occasioned in the minds of their 
 Indian neighbours, was not a little stimulated in its tenour and 
 development by the artifices of the neighbouring Spaniards, as well 
 of St, Augustine as of the Island of Cuba. The utmost degree 
 of caution against enemies so powerful and so easily acted upon, 
 was absolutely necessary ; and we shall comprehend to its full, the 
 extent of this conviction among the colonists, after repeated suffer- 
 ings had taught them providence, when we learn from the 
 historians that it was not long before this when the settlers upon 
 che *,oast were compelled to gather oysters for their subsistence 
 wif' one hand, while carrying fire-arms in the other for their pro- 
 tection. At this time, however, unhappily for the colony, such a 
 degree of watchfulness was entirely unknown. Thoughtless as 
 ever, the great mass is always slow to note the premonitions and 
 evidences of change which are at all times going on around them. 
 The counsellings of nature and of experience are seldom heeded by 
 i.he inconsiderate multitude, until their omens are realized, and 
 then when it is beyond the control which would have converted 
 them into agents, with the almost certain prospect of advantageous 
 results. It is fortunate, perhaps, for mankind, that there are some 
 few minds always in advance, and for ever preparing the way for 
 society, even sacrificing themselves nobly, that the species may have 
 victory. Perhaps, indeed, patriotism itself would lack something 
 of its stimulating character, if martyrdom did not follow its labours 
 and its love ft r man.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 5 
 
 Harrison, active in perceiving, decisive in providing against 
 f vents, with a sort of intuition, had traced out a crowd of circum- 
 stances, of most imposing character and number, in the events of 
 the tune, of which few if any in the ,olony besides himself, had 
 any idea. He annexed no small importance to the seeming trifle ; 
 and his mind was deeply interested in all the changes going on in 
 the province. Perhaps, it was his particular charge to note these 
 ihiug-s his st-itiou, pursuit his duty, which, by imposing upon 
 jiim some of the leading responsibilities of the infant society in 
 which he lived, had made him more ready in such an exercise than 
 was common among those around him. On this point we can now 
 say nothing, being as yet quite as ignorant as those who go along 
 witli us. As we proceed we shall probably all grow wiser. 
 
 While Harrison thus rambled downwards along the river's banks, 
 a friendly voice hallooed to him from its bosom, where a pettiauger, 
 urged by a couple of sinewy rowers, was heaving to the shore. 
 
 " Halloo, captain," cried one of the men " I'm so glad to see 
 you." 
 
 " Ah, Grayson," he exclaimed to the one, " how do you fare ' 
 to the other, " Master Hugh, I give you fjood day. " 
 
 The two men were brothers, and the difference made in 
 Harrison's address between the two simply indicate-4 the different 
 degrees of intimacy between them and himself. 
 
 "We've been hunting, captain, and have had glorious sport," 
 said the elder of the brothers, known as Walter Grayson " two 
 fine bucks and a doe. We put them up in a twinkling ; had a smart 
 drive, and bagged our birds at sight. Not a miss at any. And 
 here they are. Shall we have you to sup with us to-night ?" 
 
 " Hold me willing, Grayson, but not ready. I have labours for 
 to-night will keep me from you. But I shall tax youi hospitality 
 before the venison's out. Make my respects to the old lady, your 
 mother ; and if you can let me see you at the Block House to-morrow, 
 early morning, do so, and hold me your debtor for good service." 
 
 " I will be there, captain, God willing, and shall do as you ask. 
 I am sorry you can't come to-night." 
 
 "So am not I," said the younger Grayson, as, making his 
 acknowledgments and f-irewell, Harrison pushed out of sight and
 
 54 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 re-entered the forest. The boat touched the shore, and the brothers 
 leaped out, pursuing their talk, and taking out their game as they 
 did so. 
 
 " So am not I," repeated the younger brother, gloomily : " I 
 would see as little of that man as possible." 
 
 " And why, Hugh ? In what does he offend you ?" was the 
 inquiry of his companion. 
 
 " I know not but he does offend me, and I hate him, thoroughly 
 hat<; him." 
 
 " And wherefore, Hugh ! what has he done what said ? You 
 have seen but little of him to judge. Go with me to-morrow to the 
 Block House see him talk with him. You will find him a noble 
 gentleman." 
 
 And the two brothers continued the subject while moving home- 
 ward with the spoil. 
 
 " I would not see him, though I doubt not what you say. I 
 would rather that my impressions of him should remain as they 
 are." 
 
 " Hugh Grayson your perversity comes from a cause you would 
 blush that I should know you dislike him, brother, because Be.ss 
 Matthews does not." 
 
 The younger brother threw from his shoulder the carcase of the 
 deer which he carried, and with a broken speech, but a fierce look 
 and angry gesture, confronted the speaker. 
 
 " Walter Grayson you are my brother you are my brother ; 
 but do not speak on this subject again. I am perverse I am 
 unreasonable, perhaps! Be it so I cannot be other than I am; 
 and, as you love me, bear with it while you may. But urge me no 
 more in this matter. I cannot like that man for many reasons, and 
 not the least of these is, that I cannot so readily as yourself acknow- 
 ledge his superiority, while, perhaps, not less than yourself, I cannot 
 help but feel it. My pride is to feel my independence it is for 
 you to desire control, were it only for the connexion and the sym- 
 pathy which it brings to you. You are one of the million who 
 make tyrants. Go worship him yourself, but do not call upon 
 me to do likewise." 
 
 * Take up the meat, brother, and' be not wroth with me. We
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 65 
 
 Are what we are. We are unlike each other, though brothers, and 
 perhaps cannot help it. But one thing nay, above all things, try 
 and remember, in order that your mood may be kept in subjection 
 try and remember our old mother." 
 
 A few more words of sullen dialogue between them, and the two 
 brothers passed into a narrow pathway leading to a cottage, where, 
 at no great distance, they resided.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 - T By not with a word aerine 
 
 The love that lightens o'er her face, 
 That makes her glance a glance divin., 
 
 Fresh caught from heaven, Us native plw 
 And in her heart as in her eye, 
 
 A pirit lovely as serene 
 Makes of each charm some deity, 
 
 Well worshipp'd, though perhaps unseen." 
 
 THE soft sunset of April, of an April sky in Carolina, lay beau 
 lifully over the scene that afternoon. Embowered in trees, with a 
 gentle esplanade running down to the river, stood the pretty yet 
 modest cottage in which lived the pastor of the settlement, John 
 Matthews, his wife, and daughter Elizabeth. . The dwelling was 
 prc-ttily enclosed with sheltering groves through which, at spots 
 here and there, peered forth its well whitewashed verandah. The 
 river, a few hundred yards in front, wound pleasantly along, 
 making a circuitous sweep just at that point, which left the cottage 
 upon something like an isthmus, and made it a prominent object 
 10 the eye in an approach from either end of the stream. The site 
 had been felicitously chosen, and the pains taken with it had suffi- 
 ciently improved the rude location to show how much may be 
 effected by art, when employed in arranging the toilet, and in 
 decorating the wild beauties of her country cousin. The house 
 itseh' was rude enough like those of the region generally 
 having been built of logs, put together as closely as the material 
 would permit, and affording only a couple of rooms in front, to 
 which the additional shed contributed two more, employed as 
 sleeping apartments. Having shared, however, something of the 
 whitewash which had been employed upon the verandah, the little 
 fabric wore a cheerful appearance, which proved that the pains 
 taken with it had not been entirely thrown away upon the coarse 
 material of which it had been constructed. We should not forget
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 67 
 
 to mention the porch or portico of four columns, formed of slender 
 pines decapitated for the purpose, which, having its distinct roof, 
 formed the entrance through the piazza to the humble cottage 
 We are not prepare- 1 to insist upon the good taste of this addition, 
 which was very much an excrescence. The clustering vines, too, 
 hanging fantastically over the entrance, almost forbidding ingress, 
 furnished proof enough of the presence and agency of that sweet 
 nature, which, lovely of itself, has yet an added attraction when 
 coupled with the beauty and the purity of woman. 
 
 Gabriel Harrison, as our new acquaintance has been pleased to 
 style himself, was seen towards sunset, emerging from the copse 
 which grew alongside the river, and approaching the cottage. 
 Without scruple, he lifted the wooden latch which secured the 
 gate of the little paling fence running around it, and slowly moved 
 up to the entrance. His approach, however, had not been entirely 
 unobserved. A bright pair of eyes, and a laughing, young, even 
 girlish face were peering through the green leaves which almost 
 covered it in. As the glance met his own, the expression of sober 
 gravity and thoughtfulness departed from his countenance ; and 
 he now seemed only the playful, wild, thoughtless, and gentle- 
 natured being she had been heretofore accustomed to regard 
 him. 
 
 "Ah, Bess; dear Bess still the same, my beauty; still the 
 laughing, the lovely, the star-eyed " 
 
 "Hush, hush, you noisy and wicked not so loud; mother is 
 busily engaged in her'evening nap, and that long tongue of yours 
 will not make it sounder." 
 
 "A sweet warning, Bess but what then, child? If we talk 
 not, we are like to have a dull time of it." 
 
 " And if you do, and she wakes without having her nap out, we 
 are like to have a cross time of it ; and so, judge for yourself which 
 you would best like." 
 
 " I'm dumb, speechless, my beauty, as a jay on a visit ! See 
 now what you will lose by it." 
 
 " What shall I lose, Gabriel ?" 
 
 " My fine speeches your own praise no more eloquence and 
 sentiment ? My tongue and your ears will entirely forget their old 
 3*
 
 68 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 acquaintance ; and there will be but a single mode of keeping any 
 of our memories alive." 
 
 " How is that what mode ?" 
 
 "An old song tells us 
 
 " 'The lips of the dumb may speak of love, 
 Though the words may die in a kiss 
 And"' 
 
 " Will you never be quiet, Gabriel ?" 
 
 " How can I, with so much that is disquieting near me ? Quiet, 
 indeed, why, Bess, I never look upon you ay, for that matter, I 
 never think of you, but my heart beats, and my veins tingle, and 
 my pulses bound, and all is confusion in my senses. You are my 
 disquiet, far and near and you know not, dear Bess, how much I 
 have longed, during the last spell of absence, to be near, and again 
 to see you." 
 
 " Oh, I heed not your flattery. Longed for me, indeed, and so 
 long away. Why, where have you been all this while, and what 
 is the craft, Gabriel, which keeps you away ? am I never to know 
 the secret ?" 
 
 " Not yet, not yet, sweetest ; but a little while, my most impatient 
 beauty ; but a little while, and you shall know all and every 
 thing." 
 
 " Shall I ? but, ah ! how long have you told me so years, I'm 
 sure" 
 
 " Scarcely months, Bess your heart is your book-keeper." 
 
 " Well, months for months you have promised me but a little 
 tvhile, and you shall know all ; and here I've told you all my 
 secrets, as if you had a right to know them." 
 
 " Have I not ? if my craft, Bess, were only my secret if much 
 that belongs to others did not depend upon it if, indeed, success 
 in its pursuit were not greatly risked by its exposure you should 
 have heard it with the same sentence which just told you how dear 
 you were to me. But, only by secresy can my objects be success 
 fully accomplished. Besides, Bess, as it concerns others, the right 
 .o yield it, even to such sweet custody as your own, is not with me.* 1 
 
 44 But, Gabriel, I can surely keep it safely." .
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 5b 
 
 " How can you, Bess since, as a dutiful child, you are bound 
 lo let your mother share in all your knowledge ? She knows of 
 our love ? does she not?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, and she is glad to know she approves of it. And 
 so, Gabriel forgive me : but I ain very anxious and so you can't 
 tell me what is the craft you pursue ?" and she looked very per- 
 suasive as she spoke. 
 
 " I fear me, Bess, if you once knew my craft, you would discover 
 that our love was all a mistake. You would learn to unlove much 
 taster than you ever learned to love." 
 
 " Nonsense, Gabriel you know that is impossible." 
 
 " A thousand thanks, Bess, for the assurance ; but are you sure* 
 suppose now, that I were a pedler, doing the same business with 
 Granger, probably his partner only think." 
 
 "That cannot be I know better than that I'm certain it ia 
 not so." 
 
 " And why not, my Beautiful." 
 
 " Have done ! and, Gabriel, cease calling me nick-names, or I'll 
 leave you. I won't suffer it. You make quite too free." 
 
 " Do I, Bess, well, I'm very sorry but I can't help it, half the 
 time, I assure you. It's my nature I was born so, and have been 
 so from the cradle up. Freedom is my infirmity. It leads to sad 
 irreverences, I know. The very first words I uttered, were so many 
 nicknames, and in calling my own papa, wourl you believe it, I 
 could never get further than the pap." 
 
 "Obstinate incorrigible man !" 
 
 " Dear, delightful, mischievous woman ?ut, ^ess, by what are 
 you assured I am no trader ?" 
 
 "By many things, Gabriel by look, language, gesture, manner 
 your face, your speech. All satisfy me that yea are no trader, 
 but a gentleman like the brave cavaliars that stood by King 
 Charles." 
 
 ' A dangerous comparison, Bess, if your old Puritan sire could 
 hear it. What ! the daughter of the grave Pastor Matthews 
 thinking well of the cavaliers of Charlie Stuart ? Shocking ! why, 
 Bess, let him but guess at such bad taste on your part, he'll b 
 down upon you, thirty thousand strong, in scolds and sermons."
 
 "Q THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Eush don't speak of papa after that fashion. It's true, ha 
 talks hardly of the cavaliers and I think well of those he talks 
 ill of; so much for your teaching, Gabriel. It is 'you that are to 
 blame. But he loves me ; and that's enough to make me respect 
 his opinions, and to love him, in spite of them." 
 
 " You think he loves you, Bess and doubtlessly he does, as who 
 could otherwise but, is it not strange that he does not love you 
 enough to desire your happiness ?" 
 
 " Why, so he does." 
 
 " How can that be, Bess, when he still refuses you to me ?" 
 
 " And are you so sure, Gabriel, that his consent would have thr.t 
 'effect ? Would it, indeed, secure my happiness ?" 
 
 The maiden made the inquiry, slowly, half pensively, half play- 
 fully, with a look nevertheless downcast, and a cheek that showed 
 a blush after the prettiest manner. Harrison passed his arm 
 about her person, and with a tone and countenance something 
 graver than usual, but full of tenderness, replied : 
 
 " You do not doubt it yourself, dearest. I'm sure you do not. 
 Be satisfied of it, so far as a warm affection, and a thought studious 
 to please your own, can give happiness to mortal. If you are not 
 assured by this time, no word from me can make you more so. 
 True, Bess I am wild perhaps rash and frivolous foolish, and 
 in some things headstrong and obstinate enough ; but the love for 
 you, Bess, which I have always felt, I have felt as a serious and 
 absorbing concern, predominating over all other objects of my 
 existence. Let m be at the wildest the waywardest as full of 
 irregular impulse as I may be, and your name, and the thought of 
 you, bring me back to myself, bind me down, and take all wilful 
 ness from my spirit. It 's true, Bess, true, by the blessed sunlight 
 that gives us its smile and its promise while passing from our sight 
 but this you knew before, and only desired its re-assertion, 
 because " 
 
 " Because what, Gabriel ?" 
 
 " Because the assurance is so sweet to your ears, that you could 
 not have it too often repeated." 
 
 " Oh abominable thus it is, you destroy all the grace of your 
 pretty speeches. But you mistake the sex, if you suppose we care
 
 THE YKMASSEE. 61 
 
 for your vows on this subject knowing, as we do, that you are 
 /ompelled to love us, we take the assurance for granted." 
 
 " I grant you ; but the case is yours also. Love is a mutual ne- 
 cessity ; and were it not that young hearts are still old hypocrites, 
 the general truth would have long since been admitted ; but " 
 
 He was interrupted at this point of the dialogue which, in spite 
 of all the warnings of the maiden, had been carried on, in the 
 warmth of its progress, somewhat more loudly than was absolutely 
 necessary and brought back to a perception of the error by a voice 
 of inquiry from within, demanding of Bess with whom she spoke. 
 
 "With Gabriel with Captain Harrison mother." 
 
 " Well, why don't you bring him in ? Have you forgotten your 
 manners, Bess ?" 
 
 " No, mother, but come in, Gabriel, come in :" and as she 
 spoke she extended her hand, which he passionately carried to his 
 lips, and resolutely maintained there, in spite of all her resistance, 
 while passing into the entrance and before reaching the apartment. 
 The good old dame, a tidy, well-preserved antique, received the 
 visitor with regard and kindness, and, though evidently but half 
 recovered from a sound nap, proceeded to chatter with him, and at 
 him, with all the garrulous freedom of one who saw but little of 
 the world, possessed more than her usual share of the curiosity of 
 the sex, and exercised the natural garrulity of age. Harrison, with 
 that playful frankness which formed so large a portion of his manner, 
 and without any effort, had contrived long since to make himself a 
 friend in the mother of his sweetheart ; and knowing her foible, he 
 now contented himself with provoking the conversation, prompting 
 the choice of material, and leaving the tongue of the old lady at her 
 own pleasure to pursue it: he, in the meanwhile, contriving that 
 sort of chat, through the medium of looks and glances with the 
 daughter, so grateful in all similar cases to young people, and 
 which, at the same time, offered no manner of obstruction to the 
 employment of the mother. It was not long before Mr. Matthews, 
 the pastor himself, made his appearance, and the courtesies of his 
 reception were duly extended by him to the guest of his wife and 
 daughter ; but there seemed a something of backwardness, a chilly 
 -epulsiveness in the mannej of the old gentleman, quite repugnant
 
 L62J THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 \~S 
 
 to the habits of the country, and not less so to the feelings of liar 
 rison. For a brief period, indeed, the cold deportment of the 
 Pastor had the effect of somewhat freezing the warm exuberant 
 blood of the cavalier, arresting the freedom of his speech , and fling- 
 ing a chilling spell over the circle. The old man was an ascetic 
 a stern Presbyterian one of the ultra-nonconformists and not a 
 little annoyed at that period, and in the new country, by the course 
 of government, and plan of legislation pursued by the Proprietary 
 Lords of the province, which, in the end, brought about a revolu- 
 tion in Carolina, resulting in the transfer of their colonial rights and 
 the restoration of their charter to the crown. The leading proprie- 
 tors were generally of the church of England, and, with all the 
 bigotry of the zealot, forgetting, and in violation of their strict 
 pledges, given at the settlement of the colony and through which 
 they made the acquisition of a large body of their most valuable 
 population not to interfere in the popular religion they proceeded, 
 soon after the colony began to flourish, to the establishment of a 
 regular church, and, from step to step, had at length gone so fai 
 as actually to exclude from all representation in the colonial assem- 
 blies, such portions of the country as were chiefly settled by other 
 sects. The region in which we find our story, shared in this ex- 
 clusion ; and, with a man like Matthews, who was somewhat stern 
 of habit and cold of temperament a good man in his way, and as 
 the world goes, but not an overwise one a stickler for small things 
 wedded to old habits and prejudices, and perhaps like a very 
 extensive class, one who, preserving forms, might \\ith little diffi- 
 culty be persuaded to throw aside principles with such a man the 
 native acerbity of his sect might be readily supposed to undergo 
 vast increase and exercise, from the political disabilities thus war- 
 ring with his religious professions. He was a bigot himself, and. 
 with the power, would doubtless have tyrannised after a similar 
 fashion. The world within him was what he could take in with his 
 eye, or control within the sound of his voice. He could not be 
 brought to understand that climates and conditions should be 
 various, and that the popular good, in a strict reference to the mind 
 of man, demanded that people should even-where differ in manner 
 and opinion. lie wore clothes after a different fashion from (ho?e
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 63 
 
 who ruled, and the difference was vital; but he perfectly agieed 
 with those in power that there should be a prescribed standard by 
 *vhich the opinions of all persons should be regulated ; and such a 
 point as this forms the faith for which, forgetful all the while of 
 propriety, not less than of truth, so many thousands are ready for 
 the stake and the sacrifice. But though as great a bigot as any of 
 his neighbours, Matthews yet felt how very uncomfortable it was 
 to be in a minority ; and the persecutions to which his sect had 
 been exposed in Carolina, where they had been taught to look for 
 every form of indulgence, had made him not less hostile towards 
 the government than bitter in his feelings and conduct in society 
 to those who were of the ruling party. To him, the bearing of 
 Harrison, his dashing, free, unrestrainable carriage, directly ad- 
 verse to Puritan rule and usage, was particularly offensive ; and, at 
 this moment, some newly proposed exactions of the proprietors in 
 England, having for their object something more of religious reform, 
 had almost determined many of the Puritans to remove from the 
 colony, and place themselves under the more gentle and inviting 
 rule of Penn, then beginning to attract all eyes to the singularly 
 pacific and wonderfully successful government of his establishment. 
 Having this character, and perplexed with these thoughts, old Mat- 
 thews was in no mood to look favourably upon the suit of Harrison. 
 For a little while after his entrance the dialogue was constrained 
 and very chilling, and Harrison himself grew dull under its influ- 
 ence, while Bess looked every now and then doubtfully, now to her 
 father and now to her lover, not a little heedful of the increased 
 sternness which lowered upon the features of the old man. Some 
 family duties at length demanding the absence of the old lady, Bess- 
 took occasion to follow ; and the circumstance seemed to afford the 
 pastor a chance for the conversation which he desired. 
 
 "Master Harrison," said he, gravely, "I have just returned 
 from a visit to Port Royal Island, and from thence to Charles- 
 ton." 
 
 " Indeed, sir I was told you had been absent, but knew no*, 
 certainly where you had gone. How did you travel?" 
 
 "By canoe, sir, to Port Royal, and then by Miller's sloop to 
 Charleston."
 
 64 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 "Did you find all things well, sir, in that quarter, and was there 
 any thing from England 1 n 
 
 " All things were well, sir ; there had been a vessel with settlers 
 from England " 
 
 " What news, sir what news ?" 
 
 "The death of her late majesty, Queen Anne, whom God 
 receive " 
 
 " Amen ! but the throne" was the impatient inquiry. " The 
 succession ?" 
 
 " The throne, sir, is filled by the Elector of Hanover " 
 
 " Now mriy I hear falsely, for I would not heed this tale ? What 
 was there no struggle for the Stuart no stroke ? now shame 
 on the people so ready for the chain ; so little loyal to the true 
 sovereign of the realm !" and as Harrison spoke, he rose with a 
 brow deeply wrinkled with thought and indignation, and paced 
 hurriedly over the floor. 
 
 " You are fast, too fast, Master Harrison ; there had been strife, 
 and a brief struggle, though, happily for the nation, a successless 
 one, to lift once more into the high places of power that bloody 
 and witless family the slayers and the persecutors of the saints. 
 But thanks be to the God that breathed upon the forces of the foe, 
 and shrunk up their sinews. The strife is at rest there ; but when, 
 oh Lord, shall the persecutions of thy servants cease here, even in 
 thy own untrodden places !" 
 
 The old man paused, while, without seeming to notice well what 
 he had last said, Harrison continued to pace the floor in deep 
 meditation. At length the pastor again addressed him, though in 
 a different tone and upon a very different subject. 
 
 " Master Harrison," said he, " I have told thee that I have been 
 to Charleston perhaps I should tell thee that it would have been 
 my pleasure to meet with thee there." 
 
 " I have been from Charleston some weeks, sir," was the some- 
 what hurried reply. " I have had labours upon the Ashepoo, and 
 even to the waters of the Savannah." 
 
 " I doubt not I doubt not, Master Harrison," was the sobei 
 response ; " thy craft carries thee far, and thy labours are manifold ; 
 but what is that craft. Master Harrison ? and, while I have it upon
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 65 
 
 iny lips, let me say, that it was matter of strange surprise in my 
 mind, when I asked after thee in Charleston, not to find any whole- 
 some citizen who could point out thy lodgings, or to whom thy 
 mere name was a thing familiar. Vainly did I ask after thee 
 none said for thee, Master Harrison is a good man and true, and 
 his works are sound and siyht worthy." 
 
 " Indeed the savages" spoke the person addressed, with a 
 most provoking air of indifference "and so, Mr. Matthews, your 
 curiosity went without profit in either of those places ?" 
 
 " Entirely, sir and I would even have sought that worthy gen- 
 tleman, Lord Craven, for his knowledge of thee, if he had aught to 
 say, but that he was gone forth upon a journey," replied the old 
 gentleman, with an air of much simplicity. 
 
 " That would have been going far for thy curiosity, sir very 
 far and it would be lifting a poor gentleman like myself into 
 undeserving notice, to have sought for him. at the hands of the 
 Governor Craven." 
 
 " Thou speakest lightly of my quest, Master Harrison, as, indeed, 
 it is too much thy wont to speak of all other things," was the grave 
 response of Matthews ; " but the subject of my enquiry was too 
 important to the wellbeing of my family, to be indifferent to me, 
 and this provides me the excuse for meddling with concerns of thine !" 
 
 Harrison paused for a moment, and looked steadfastly, and with 
 something like affectionate interest in the face of the old man ; 
 and for a moment seemed about to address him in language of 
 explanation ; but he turned away hurriedly, and walking across the 
 floor, muttered audibly " Not yet ! not yet ! not yet ! It will not 
 ao yet." 
 
 " What will not do. Master Harrison. If thou wouldst speak 
 thy mind freely, it were wise." 
 
 The young man suddenly resumed his jesting manner. 
 
 "And so, sir, there were no Harrisons in Charleston none in 
 Port Royal ?" 
 
 " Harrisons there were " 
 
 " Tire, true, sir" said Harrison, breaking in" true, true 
 Harrisons there were, but none of them the true. There was o.f 
 Gabriel among the saints of those places,"
 
 66 THK VKMASSKE. 
 
 "Speak nol so irreverently, sir, if I may crave so much fr..ir. 
 one who seems usually so indifferent to my desires, however regard- 
 ful ho may be at all times of his own." 
 
 " Not so seriously, Mr. Matthews," replied the other, now chang- 
 ing his tone to a business-like and straightforward character. " Not 
 so seriously, sir, if you please ; you are quite too grave in this mat- 
 ter, l>v half, and allow nothing for the ways of one who, perhaps, 
 is not a jot more extravagant in his, than you are in yours. Per- 
 mit me to say, sir, that a little more plain confidence in Gabriel 
 Harrison would have saved theo the unnecessary and unprofitable 
 trouble thou hast given thyself in Charleston. I know well enough, 
 and should willingly have assured thee that thy search after 
 Gabriel Harrison in Charleston would be as wild as that of the old 
 Spaniard among the barrens of Florida for the waters of an eternal 
 youth. He has neither chick nor child, nor friend nor servant, 
 either in Charleston or in Port Royal, and men there may not well 
 answer for one whom they do not often see unless as a stranger. 
 Gabriel Harrison lives not in those places, Master Matthews." 
 
 "It is not where he lives not that I seek to know to this tliou 
 hast spoken only, Master llarrision wilt thou now condescend to 
 say where he does live, where his name and person may be kno\\ n, 
 where his dwelling and his connexions may be found what is his 
 t;raft, what his condition ?" 
 
 " A different inquiry that, Mr. Matthews, and one rather more 
 difficult to answer now at least I must say to you, sir, as I did 
 before, when first speaking with you on the subject of your daugh- 
 ter, that I am of good family and connexions, drive no servile or 
 dishonourable craft am one thou shalt not be ashamed of nei- 
 ther thou nor thy daughter ; and, though now engaged in a pur 
 suit which makes it necessary that ihwch of my own concerns be 
 kept for a time in close secrecy, yet the day will come, and I look 
 for it to come ere long, when all shall be known, and thou shall 
 have no reason to regret thy confidence in the stranger. For the 
 present, I can tell thee no more." 
 
 "^his will not do for me, Master Harrison it will not serve a 
 "ther. On an assurance so imperfect, I cannot risk the good namo 
 and the happiness of my child; and, let me add to thee, Master
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 6? 
 
 Harrison, that there are other objections which gather iu my mind, 
 to thy claim, even were these entirely removed." 
 
 "Ha ! what other objections, sir? speak." 
 
 " Many, sir ; nor the least of these, thy great levity of speech 
 and manner, on all occasions; a levity which is unbecoming in 
 one having an immortal soul, and discreditable to one of thy age." 
 
 %i My age, indeed, sir my youth, you will surely phrase it upon 
 suggestion, for I do not mark more than thirty, and would have 
 neithei Bess nor yourself count upon me for a greater experience 
 of years." 
 
 " It is unbecoming, sir, in any age, and in you shows itself quite 
 too frequently. Then, sir, your tone and language, contemptuous 
 of many things which the lover of religion is taught to venerate, 
 vatly savour of that ribald court and reign which made 
 merry at the work of the Creator, and the persecution of his crea- 
 tures, and drank from a rich cup where the wine of drunkenness 
 and the blood of the saints were mixed together in most lavish 
 profusion. You sing, sir, mirthful songs, and sometimes, though, 
 perhaps, not so often, employ a profane oath, in order that your 
 speech a vain notion, but too common among thoughtless and 
 frivolous persons may, in the silly esteem of the idle and the 
 ignorant, acquire a strong and sounding force, and an emphasis 
 \\hich might not be found in the meaning and sense which it 
 \\otild convey. Thy common speech, Master Harrison, has but too 
 much the ambition of wit about it which is a mere crackling of 
 thorns beneath the pot " 
 
 " Enough, enough, good father of mine that is to be ; you have 
 said quite enough against me, and more, rest you thankful, than I 
 shall ever undertake to answer. One reply, however, I am free to 
 make you." *f 
 
 " 1 shall be pleased to hear you, sir." 
 
 " That is gracious, surely, on the part of the accuser : and now, 
 sir, let me say, I ad,mit the sometime levity, the playfulness and 
 the thoughtlessness, perhaps. I shall undertake (o reform these, 
 when you shall satisfy me that to laugh and sing, and seek and 
 afford amusement, are inconsistent with inv duties either to the 
 Creator or the creature. On this head, permit me to say that you
 
 68 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 are the criminal, not me. It is you, sir. and your sect, that are the 
 true criminals. Denying, as you do, to the young, all those natu- 
 ral forms of enjoyment and amusement which the Deity, speaking 
 through their own nature, designed for their wholesome nurture, 
 you cast a shadow over all things around you. In this way, sir, 
 you force them upon the necessity of seeking for less obvious and 
 more artificial enjoyments, which are not often innocent, and which 
 are frequently ruinous and destructive. As for the irreverence to 
 religion, and sacred things, with which you charge me, you will 
 suffer me respectfully to deny. This is but your fancy, reverend 
 sir ; the fruit of your false views of things. If I were thus irreve- 
 rent or irreligious it were certainly a grievous fault, and I should 
 be grievously sorry for it. But I am not conscious of such faults. 
 I have no reproaches on this subject. Your church is not mine ; 
 and that is probably a fault in your eyes ; but I offer no scorn or 
 disrespect to yours. In regard to manners and morals, there is no 
 doubt something to be amended, in my case, as in that of most per- 
 sons. I do not pretend to deny that I am a man of many errors, 
 and perhaps some vices. You will suffer me to try and cure these, 
 as worldly people are apt to do, gradually, and with as much ease 
 to myself as possible. I am not more fond of them, I honestly 
 think, than the rest of my neighbours; and hope, some day, to be 
 a better and a wiser man than I am. That I shall never be a 
 Puritan, however, you may be assured, if it be only to avoid giving 
 to my face the expression of a pine bur. That I shall never love 
 Cromwell the better for having been a hypocrite as well as a mur- 
 derer, you may equally take for granted ; and, that my dress, unlike 
 your own, sir, shall be fashioned always with a due reference to my 
 personal becomingness, you and I, both, may this day safely swear 
 for. These are matters, Mr. Matthews, upon which you insist with 
 too much solemnity. I look upon them, sir, as so many trifles, not 
 worthy the close consideration of thinking men. I will convince 
 you, before many days, perhaps, that my levity does not unfit me 
 for business never interferes with my duties. I wear it as I do 
 my doublet ; when it suits me to do so, I throw it aside, and pro- 
 ceed, soul and body, to the necessity which calls for it. Such, sir, 
 is Gabriel Harrison the person for whom you can find no kin-
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 69 
 
 dred uo sponsor ; an objection, perfectly idle, sir, when one thing 
 is considered." 
 
 Here he paused somewhat abruptly. The pastor had been taken 
 all aback by the cool and confident speech of his youthful com- 
 panion, whom he thought to have silenced entirely by the history 
 of his discoveries in Charleston or his failure to discover. He 
 knew not well what to answer, and for a brief and awkward 
 moment was silent himself. But, with an effort at composure and 
 solemnity, seizing on the last word of Harrison's speech, he said 
 
 "And pray, sir, what may that one thing be?" 
 
 " Why, simply, sir, that your daughter is to marry Gabriel Har- 
 rison himself, and not his kindred." 
 
 " Let Gabriel Harrison rest assured that my daughter does no 
 such thing." 
 
 " Cha-no-selor),ee, as the Yemassees say. We shall see. I don't 
 believe that. Trust not your vow, Master Matthews. Gabriel 
 Harrison will marry your daughter, and make her an excellent 
 husband, sir, in spite of you. More than that, sir, I will, for once, 
 be a prophet among the rest, and predict that you too shall clasp 
 hands on the bargain." 
 
 Indeed ! " 
 
 " Ay, indeed, sir. Look not so sourly, reverend sir, upon the 
 matter. I am bent on it. You shall not destroy your daughter's 
 chance of happiness in denying mine. Pardon me if my phrase 
 is something audacious. I have been a rover, and my words come 
 with my feelings I seldom stop to pick them. I love Bess, and 
 I'm sure I can make her happy. Believing this, and believing 
 too that you shall be satisfied, after a time, with me, however yuu 
 dislike my name, I shall not suffer myself to be much troubled on 
 the score of your refusal. When the time comes when I can see my 
 way through some few difficulties now before me, and when I have 
 safely performed other duties, I shall come to possess myself of 
 my bride and, as I shall then give you up my secret, I shall look 
 to have her at your hands." 
 
 " We shall see, sir," was all the response which the bewildered 
 pastor uttered to the wild visitor who had thus addressed him. 
 The character of the dialogue, however, did not seem so greatly
 
 70 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 to surprise him, as one might have expected. He appeared to be 
 rather familiar with some of the peculiarities of his companion, 
 and however much he might object to his seeming recklessness, 
 he himself was not altogether insensible to the manly frankness 
 which marked Harrison's conduct throughout. The conversation 
 had now fairly terminated, and Harrison seemed in no humour to 
 continue it or to prolong his visit. He took his leave accordingly. 
 The pastor followed him to the door with the stift' formality of one 
 who appears anxious to close it on such visitor for ever. ' Harrison 
 laughed out as he beheld his visage, and his words of leave-taking 
 were as light and lively as those of the other were lugubrious and 
 solemn. The door closed upon the guest. The pastor strode back 
 to his easy chair and silent meditations. But he was aroused by 
 Harrison's return. His expression of face, no longer laughing, 
 was now singularly changed to a reflective gravity. 
 
 " Mr. Matthews," said he " of one thing let me not forget to 
 counsel you. There is some mischief afoot among the Yemassees. 
 I have reason to believe that it has been for some time in pro- 
 gress. We shall not be long, I fear, without an explosion, and 
 must be prepared. The lower Block House would be your safest 
 retieat in case of time being allowed you for flight ; but I pray 
 you reject no warning, and take the first Block House if the warn- 
 ing be short. I shall probably be nigh, however, in the event of 
 danger, and though you like not the name of Gabriel Harrison, its 
 owner has some ability, and wants none of the will to do you 
 service." 
 
 The old man was struck, not less with the earnest manner of 
 the speaker, so unusual with him, than with his language ; and, 
 with something more of deference in his own expression, begged 
 to know the occasion of his apprehensions. 
 
 " I cannot well tell you now," said the other, " but there are 
 reasons enough to render caution advisable. Your eye has pro- 
 bably before this beheld the vessel in the river. She is a stranger, 
 and 1 think an enemy. But as we have not the means of contending 
 with her now, we must watch her well, and do what we can by 
 stratagem. What we think, too, must be thought secretly ; but 
 to you I may say, that I suspect an agent of the Spaniard in that
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 71 
 
 vessel, and will do my utmost to find him out. I know that sun- 
 dry of the Yemassees have been for the first time to Si. Augus- 
 tine, and they have come home burdened with gauds and gifts. 
 These are not given for nothing. But, enough be on your watch ; 
 to give you more of my confidence, at this moment, than is called 
 for, is no part of my vocation." 
 
 " In heaven's name, who are you, sir ? " was the earnest ex- 
 clamation of the old pastor. 
 
 Harrison laughed again with all the merry mood of boyhood. 
 In the next moment he replied, with the most profound gravity of 
 expression, " Gabriel Harrison, with your leave, sir, and the future 
 husband of Bess Matthews." 
 
 In another moment, not waiting any answer, he was gone, and 
 looking back as he darted down the steps and into the avenue, he 
 caught a glance of the maiden's pye peering through a neighbour- 
 ing window, and kissed his hand to her twice and thrice ; then, 
 with a hasty nod to the wondering father, who now began to 
 regard him as a madman, he dashed forward through the gate, and 
 was soon upon the banks of the river.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 . The nations meet in league a solemn league, 
 This is their voice this their united pledge, . 
 For all adventure." 
 
 SANUTEE turned away from the spot whence Harrison had de- 
 parted, and was about to retire, when, not finding himself followed 
 by Ishiagaska, and perceiving the approach of the sailor, his late op- 
 ponent, and not knowing what to expect, whether peace or war, he 
 again turned, facing the two, and lifting his bow, and setting his 
 arrow, he prepared himself for a renewal of the strife. But the 
 voice of the sailor and of Ishiagaska, at the same moment, reached 
 his ears in language of conciliation ; and, resting himself slightly 
 against a tree, foregoing none of his precautions, however, with a 
 cold indifference he awaited their approach. The seaman ad- 
 dressed him with all his usual bluntness, but with a manner now 
 very considerably changed from what it was at their first 
 ncounter. He apologized for his violence, and for having slain 
 the dog. Had he known to whom it belonged, so he assured the 
 chief, he had not been so hasty in despatching it ; and, as some 
 small amends, he begged the Indian to do with the venison as he 
 thought proper, for it was now his own. During the utterance of 
 this uncouth apology, mixed up as it was with numberless oaths, 
 Sanutee looked on and listened with contemptuous indifference. 
 When it was done, he simply replied 
 
 " It is well but the white man will keep the meat : it is not 
 for Sanutee." 
 
 " Come, come, don't be ill-favoured now, old warrior. What's 
 done can't be undone, and more ado is too much to do. I'm sure 
 I'm sorry enough I killed the dog, but how was I to know he 
 belonged to you ?" 
 
 The sailor might have gone on for some time after this fashion,
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 73 
 
 had not Ishiagaska, seeing that the reference to his dog only the 
 more provoked the ire of the chief, interposed by an address to the 
 sailor, which more readily commanded Sanutee's consideration. 
 
 " The master of the big canoe is he not the chief that comes 
 from St. Augustine ? Ishiagaska has looked upon the white chief 
 in the great lodge of his Spanish brother." 
 
 " Ay, that you have, Indian, I'll be sworn ; and I thought I 
 knew you from the first. I am the friend of the Spanish governor, 
 and I come here now upon his business." 
 
 " It is good," responded Ishiagaska and he turned to Sanutee, 
 with whom, for a few moments, he carried on a conversation in 
 their own language, entirely beyond the comprehension of the 
 sailor, who nevertheless gave it all due attention. 
 
 " Brings the master of the big canoe nothing from our Spanish 
 brother ? Hides he no writing in his bosom ?" was the inquiry of 
 Ishiagaska, turning from Sanutee, who seemed to have prompted 
 the inquiry. 
 
 " Writing indeed no writing to wild Indians." The last 
 fragment of the sentence was uttered to himse-f. He continued 
 aloud, " Now, I have brought you no writing, but here is some- 
 thing that you may probably understand quite as well. Here 
 (his is what I have brought you. See if you can read it." 
 
 As he spoke, he drew from his bosom a bright red cloth- -a 
 strip, not over six inches in width, but of several yards in length, 
 worked over, at little intervals, with symbols and figures of every 
 kind and of the most fantastic description among which were 
 birds and beasts, reptiles, and insects, rudely wrought, either in 
 shells or beads, which, however grotesque, had yet their significa- 
 tion. This was the Belt of Wampum which among all the In- 
 dian nations formed a common language, susceptible of. every | 
 variety of use. By this instrument they were taught to declare 
 hostility and friendship, war and peace. Thus were their treaties 
 made ; and, in the speeches of their orators, the Belt of Wampum, 
 given at the conclusion of each division of the subject, was made 
 to asseverate their sincerity. Each tribe, having its own hiero- 
 glyphic, supposed or assumed to be especially characteristic, affixed 
 ita totem, or sign manual, to such a belt as* that brought by the 
 4
 
 74 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 stranger ; and this mode of signature effectually bound it to the 
 conditions which the other signs may have expressed. 
 
 The features of the chief, Sanutee, underwent a change from the 
 repose of indifference to the lively play of the warmest interest, 
 as he beheld the long folds of this document slowly unwind before 
 his eyes ; and, without a word, hastily snatching it from the hands 
 of the seaman, he had nearly brought upon himself another assault 
 from that redoubted worthy. But as "he made a show of that sort, 
 Ishiagaska interposed. 
 
 " How do I know that it is for him that treaty is for. the chiefs 
 of the Yemassees ; and blast my eyes if any but the chiefs shall 
 grapple it in their yellow fingers." 
 
 " It is right it is Sanutee, the great chief of the Yemassees ; 
 and is not Ishiagaska a chief?" replied the latter, impressively. 
 The sailor was somewhat pacified, and said no more ; while Sanu- 
 tee, who seemed not at all to have heeded the latter's movement, 
 went on examining each figure upon the folds of the Wampum, 
 numbering them carefully upon his fingers as he did so, aiid con- 
 ferring upon their characters with Ishiagaska, whose owr. curiosity 
 was now actively at work along with him in the examination. In 
 that language, which from their lips is so sweet and sonorous, th< j y 
 conversed together, to the great disquiet of the seaman, who had 
 no less curiosity than themselves to know the purport of the in- 
 strument, and the opinions of the chiefs upon it. But he under- 
 stood not a word they said. 
 
 " They are here, Ishiagaska, they have heard the speech of tlm 
 true warrior, and they will stand together. Look, this green bird 
 is for the Estatoe ;* he will sing death in the sleeping ear of the 
 l>ale warrior of the English." 
 
 " He is a great brave of the hills, and has long worn the blanket 
 of the Spaniard. It is good," was the reply. 
 
 "And this for the Cussoboe it is burnt timber. They took the 
 totem from the Suwannee, when they smoked him out of his lodge. 
 And tk is for the Alatamaha, a green ie.af of the summer, for the 
 great prophet of the Alatamaha never dies, and looks always in 
 
 * \ tribe of the Cherokees, living in what i= now Pendleton district
 
 THE YEMASSBE. 75 
 
 youth. This tree snake stands for the Serannah ; for he watches 
 in the thick top of the bush for the warrior that walks blind un- 
 derneath." 
 
 "I have looked on this chief in battle the hill chief of Apa- 
 lachy. It was the fight of a long day, when we took scalps from 
 their warriors, and slew them with their arms about our necks. 
 They are brave look, the mark of their knife is deep in the cheek 
 of Jshiagaska." 
 
 '' The hill is their totem. It stands, and they never lie. This is 
 the wolf tribe of the Cherokee and this the bear's. Look, the 
 Catawba, that laughs, is here. lie speaks with the trick-tongue 
 of the Coonee-lattee ;* he laughs, but he can strike like a true 
 brave, and sings his death-song with a free spirit." 
 
 " For whom speaks the, viper-snake, hissing from under the 
 bush }" 
 
 " For the Greek warrior with the sharp tooth, that tears. His 
 tooth is like an arrow, and when he tears away the scalp of hie 
 enemy, he drinks a long drink of his blood, that makes him strong. . 
 ThU is their totem I know them of old ; they gave us sixty / 
 braves when we fought with the Chickasahs." 
 
 J'he sailor had heard this dialogue without any of the advan- 
 tages possessed by us. It was in a dead language to him. Be- 
 coming impatient, and desiring to have some hand in the business, 
 he took advantage of a pause made by Sanutee who now seemed 
 to examine with Isliiagaska more closely the list they had read 
 out to suggest a more rapid progress to the rest. 
 
 "Roll them out, chief ; roll them out ; there are many more 
 yet to come. Snakes, and trees, and birds, and beasts enough to 
 people the best show-stall of Europe." 
 
 "It is good," said Sanutee, who understood in part what had 
 been said ; and, as suggested, the Yemassee proceeded to unfold 
 the wampum, at full length, though now he exhibited less curiosity 
 than before. The residue of the hieroglyphics were those chiefly 
 
 * The mocking-bird. The Catawbas were of a generous, elastic, and 
 'ively temperament, and, until the Yemassee outbreak, usually the friendi 
 of the Carolinians.
 
 76 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 of tribes and nations of which he had been previously secure. 
 He continued, however, as if rather for the stranger's satisfaction 
 than his own. 
 
 "Here," said he, continuing the dialogue in his own language 
 with Ishiagaska, " here is the Salutah* that falls like the water. 
 He is a stream from the rock. This is the Isundigaf that goes on 
 his belly, and shoots from the hollow this is the Santee, he runs 
 in the long canoe, and his paddle is a cane, that catches the tree 
 top, and thus he goes through the dark swamps of Serattaya.J 
 The Chickaree stands up in the pine, and the Winyah is here in 
 the terrapin." 
 
 " I say, chief," said the sailor, pointing to the next symbol, 
 which was an arrow of considerable length, and curved almost to 
 a crescent, " I say, chief, tell us what this arrow means here I 
 know it stands for some nation, but what nation ? and speak now 
 in plain English, if you can, or in Spanish, or in French, which I 
 can make out, but not in that d d gibberish which is all up side 
 down and in and out, and no ways at all, to my understanding." 
 
 The chief comprehended the object of the sailor, though less 
 from his words than his looks ; and with an elevation of head and 
 gesture, and a fine kindling of the eye, he replied proudly : 
 
 " It is the arrow, the arrow that came with the storm it came 
 from the Manneyto to the brave, to the well-beloved, the old father- 
 chief of the Yemassee." 
 
 "Ah, ha! so that's your mark totem, you call it? Well, it's a 
 pretty long thing to burrow in one's ribs, and reminds me of the 
 fellow to it, that you so kindly intended for mine. But that's over 
 now so no more of it, old chief." 
 
 Neither of the Indians appeared to heed the speech of the sailor. 
 They were too much interested by one of the signs which now 
 met their eyes upon the belt, and which they did not seem to com 
 prehend. Sauutee first called the attention of his brother chief to 
 the symbol, and both were soon busy in eager inquiry. Thev 
 
 * Salutah, now written Saluda, and signifying Corn river. 
 
 f Isundiga, or Savannah. 
 
 j Near Nelson's ferry and Scott's lake on
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 7 / 
 
 uttered their doubts and opinions in their own language with no 
 little fluency ; for it is something of a popular error to suppose 
 the Indian that taciturn character which he is sometimes repre- 
 sented. He is a great speech-maker, and when serious business 
 claims him not, is exceedingly fond of a jest ; which, by the way, 
 is not often the purest in its nature. The want of our language is 
 a very natural reason why he should be sparing of his words when 
 he speaks with us, and a certain suspicious reserve is the conse- 
 quence of a certain awkward sense of inferiority. 
 
 The bewilderment of the chiefs did not escape the notice of the 
 sailor, who immediately guessed its occasion. The symbol before 
 their eyes was that of Spain; the high turrets, and the wide 
 towers of its castellated dominion, frowning in gold, and finely 
 embroidered upon the belt, directly below the simpler ensign of the 
 Yemassees. Explaining the mystery to their satisfaction, the con- 
 tra>t between its gorgeous embodiments and vaster associations of 
 human ax-ncy and power, necessarily influenced the imagination 
 of the European, while wanting every thing like force to the Indian, 
 to whom a lodge so vast and cheerless in its aspect, seemed rather 
 an absurdity than any thing else; and he could not help dilating 
 upon the greatness and magnificence of a people dwelling in such 
 houses. 
 
 " That's a nation for you now, chiefs that is the nation after all." 
 
 " The Yemassee is the nation," said one of the chiefs proudly. 
 
 "Yes, perhaps so, in this part of the world, a great nation 
 enough ; but in Europe you wouldn't be a mouthful a mere drop 
 in the bucket a wounded porpoise, flirting about in the mighty 
 seas that must swallow it up. Ah ! it's a great honour, chiefs, let 
 me tell you, when so great a king as the King of Spain conde- 
 scends to make a treaty with a wild people such as you are here." 
 
 Understanding but little of all this, Sanutee did not perceive its 
 disparaging tendency, but simply pointing to the insignia, inquired 
 
 " It is the Spanish totem s" 
 
 ' Ay, it's their sign their arms if that's what you mean by 
 totem. It was a long time before the Governor of Saint Augus- 
 tine could get it done after your fashion, till an old squaw of the 
 Cherokees fixed it up, snd handsomely enough she has done it too.
 
 78 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 And now, chiefs, the sooner we go to work the better. The 
 governor has put his hand to the treaty, he will find the amis, and 
 you the warriors." 
 
 "The Yemassee will speak to the governor," said Sanutee. ' 
 
 "You will have to go to Saint Augustine, th?n, for he' has sent 
 me in his place. I have brought the treaty, and the arms are 
 in my vessel ready for your warriors, whenever the/ are ready to 
 sound the warwhoop." 
 
 "Does Sanutee speak to a chief?" 
 
 " Ay, that he does, or my name is not Richard Chorley. I am 
 a sea chief, a chief of the great canoe, and captain of as pretty a 
 3rew as ever riddled a merchantman." 
 
 " I see not the totem of your tribe." 
 
 "My tribe ?" said the sailor laughingly "My crew, you mean. 
 Yes, they have a totem, and as pretty a one as any on your roll. 
 There, look," said he, and as he spoke, rolling up his sleeve, he 
 displayed a huge anchor upon his arm, done in gunpowder. Tins 
 was the sort of writing which they could understand. That it was 
 worked on the body of the sailor, worked into his skin, was mak- 
 ing the likeness more perfect, and the bearing of the red chiefs 
 towards the sea captain became in consequence more decidedly 
 favourable. 
 
 " And now," said Chorley, " it is well I have some of my marks 
 about me, for I can easily put my signature to that treaty without 
 scrawl of pen, or taking half the trouble that it must have given 
 the worker of these beads. But, hear me, chiefs, I don't work for 
 nothing ; I must have my pay, and as it don't come out of -your 
 pockets, I look to havo no refusal." 
 
 " The chief of the great canoe will speak." 
 
 "Yes, and first to show that I mean to act as well <ts speak, hen 
 is my totem the totem of my crew or tribe as you call it. 1 pin 
 it on, and trust to have fair play out of you." As he spoke, hr 
 took from his pocket a small leaden anchor, such as are now-a-days 
 numbered among the playthings of children, but which at that 
 period made no unfrequent ornament to the seaman's jacket. A 
 thorn from a neighbouring branch secured it to the wampum, and 
 the engagement of the sea chief was duly ratified. Having done
 
 THE YEHASSEE. 79 
 
 this, he proceeded to unfold his expectations. He claimed, among 
 other things, in consideration of the service of himself and the 
 fifteen men whom he should command in the insurrection, the pos- 
 session of all slaves who should be taken by him from the Caro- 
 linians; and that, unless they offered resistance, they should not be 
 slain in the war. 
 
 " I don't want belter pay than that," said he, " but that I must 
 and will have, or d n the blow I strike in the matter." 
 
 The terms of the seaman had thus far undergone development, 
 when Sanutee started suddenly, and his eyes, lightening seemingly 
 with some new interest, were busied in scrutinizing the little circuit 
 of wood on the edge of which their conversation had been carried on. 
 Ishiagaska betrayed a similar consciousness of an intruder's pre- 
 sence, and the wampum belt was rolled up hurriedly by one of the 
 chiefs, while the other maintained his watchfulness upon the brush 
 from whence the interruption appeared to come. There was some 
 reason for the alarm, though the unpractised sense of the white 
 man had failed to perceive it. It was there that our old acquaint- 
 ance, Hector, despatched as a spy upon the progress of those 
 whom his master suspected to be engaged in mischief, had sought 
 concealment while seeking his information. Unfortunately for the 
 black, as he crept along on hands and knees, a fallen and some- 
 what decayed tree lay across his path, some of the branches of 
 which protruded entirely out of the cover, and terminated within 
 sight of the three conspirators, upon the open plain. In crawling, 
 cautiously enough, over the body of the tree, the branches thus 
 exposed were agitated, and, though but slightly, yet sufficiently for 
 the keen sight of an Indian warrior. Hector, all the while igno- 
 rant of the protrusion within their gaze of the agitated members 
 in his anxiety to gain more of the latter words of the sailor, so in- 
 teresting to his own color, and a portion of which had met his 
 ear incautiously pushed forward over the tree, crawling all the 
 way like a snake, and seeking to shelter himself in a little cluing 
 that interposed itself between him and those he was approaching. 
 As he raised his head above the earth, he beheld the glance of 
 Sanutee fixed upon the very bush behind which he lay ; the bow 
 uplifted, and his eye ranging from stem to point of the long arrow.
 
 80 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 In a moment the negro sunk to the level of the ground ; but, ir 
 doing so precipitately disturbed still more the branches clustering 
 around him. The lapse of a few moments without any assault, 
 persuaded Hector to believe that all danger wac passed ; and he 
 was just about to lift his head for another survey, when he felt t!u j 
 entire weight of a heavy body upon his back. While the black 
 had lain quiet, in those few moments, Sauutee had swept round a 
 turn in the woods, and with a single bound, afcer noticing the per- 
 son of the spy, had placed his foot upon him. 
 
 " Hello, now, wha' de debble dat ? Git off, I tell you. Dis clah 
 Hector ! Wha' for you trouble Hector ?" 
 
 Thus shouting confusedly, the negro, taken in tho very act, with 
 a tone of mixed fear and indignation, addressed his assailant, while 
 struggling violently all the time at his extrication. His struggles 
 only enabled him to see his captor, who, calling out to Ishiagaska, 
 in a moment, with his assistance, dragged forth the spy from his 
 unconcealing cover. To do Hector's courage all manner of justice, 
 he battled violently ; threatening his captors dreadfully with the 
 vengeance of his master. But his efforts ceased as the hatchet of 
 Ishiagaska gleamed over his eyes, and he was content save in 
 words, which he continued to pour forth with no little fluency to 
 forego his further opposition to the efforts which they now made to 
 keep him down, while binding his arms behind him with a thong 
 of hide which Ishiagaska readily produced. The cupidity of 
 Chorley 'soon furnished them with a plan for getting rid of him. 
 Under his suggestion, driving the prisoner before them, with the 
 terrors of knife and hatchet, they soon reached the edge of the 
 river, and, after a little search, they found the place, Rattlesnake 
 Point, where the cruiser's boat had been stationed in waiting. 
 With the assistance of the two sailors in it, the seats were taken 
 up, and the captive, kicking, struggling, and threatening, and all in 
 vain, was tumbled in ; the seats were replaced above him, the sea- 
 men squatted upon them ; and every chance of a long captivity, 
 and that foreign slavery against which his master had forewarned 
 him, was the melancholy prospect in his thoughts. The further 
 arrangements between the chiefs and the sailor took place on shore, 
 and out of Hector's hearing. In a little while it ceased the
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 81 
 
 Yemassees took their way up the river to Pocota-ligo, while Chor- 
 ley, returning to his boat, bringing the deer along which he tum- 
 bled in upon the legs of the negro took his seat in the stern, and 
 the men pulled steadily off for the vessel, keeping nigh the opposite 
 shore, and avoiding that side upon which the settlements of the 
 Carolinians were chiefly to be found. As they pursued their way, 
 a voice hailed them from the banks, to which the sailor gave no 
 reply, but immediately changing the direction of the boat, put her 
 instantly into the centre of the stream. But the voice was known 
 to Hector as that of Granger, the Indian trader, and with a despe- 
 rate effort, raising his head from the uncomfortable place where it 
 had been laid on a dead level with his body, he yelled out to the 
 trader, with his utmost pitch of voice, vainly endeavouring, through 
 the mists of evening, which now hung heavily around, to make out 
 the person to whom he spoke. A salutary blow from the huge fist 
 of the sailor, driven into the uprising face of the black, admo- 
 nished him strongly against any future imprudence, while forcing 
 him back, with all the force of a sledge-hammer, to the shelter of 
 his old position. There was no reply, that the negro heard, to his 
 salutation ; and, in no long time after, the vessel was reached. 
 Hector was soon consigned to a safe quarter in the hold, usually 
 provided for such freight, and kept to await the arrival of as many 
 companions in captivity, as the present enterprise of the pirate cap) 
 tain, for such is Master Richard Chorley, promised to procure. /
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 * 
 
 " Wiy goes he forth again what is the quest, 
 That from his cottage home, and the warm hearth. 
 Blest that its warmth is his, carries him forth 
 By night, into the mazy solitude !" 
 
 THE boats, side by side, of Sanutee and Ishiagaska, crossed the 
 river at a point just below Pocota-ligo. It was there that Sanutee 
 landed the other chief continued his progress to the town.. But 
 a few words, and those of stern resolve, passed between them at 
 separation ; but those words were volumes in Yemassee history. 
 They were the words of revolution and strife, and announced the 
 preparation of the people not less than of the two chiefs, for the . 
 commencement, with brief delay, of that struggle with their Eng- 
 lish neighbours, which was now the most prominent idea in their 
 minds. The night was fixed among them for the outbreak, the 
 several commands arranged, and the intelligence brought by the 
 sailor informed them of a contemplated attack of the Spaniards by 
 sea upon the Carolinian settlements, while, at the same time, 
 another body was in progress, over land, to coalesce with them in 
 their operations. This latter force could not be very far distant, and 
 it was understood that when the scouts should return with accounts 
 of its approach, the signal should be given for the general mas- 
 sacre. 
 
 " They shall die they shall all perish, and their scalps shall 
 shrivel 'around the long pole in the lodge of the warrior," exclaimed 
 Ishiagaska, fiercely, to his brother chief, still speaking in their own 
 language. The response of Sanutee was in a different temper, 
 though recognising the same necessity. 
 
 " The Yemassee must be free," said the elder chief, solemnly, 
 in his sonorous tones "The Manneyto will bring him freedom 
 be will take the burden from his shouhhrs, and set him up against
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 83 
 
 the tree by the wayside. He will put the bow into his hands he 
 will strengthen him for the chase ; there shall be no pale-faces 
 along the path to rob him of venison to put blows upon hie 
 shoulders. The Yernassee shall be free." 
 
 "lie shall drink blood for strength. He shall hunt the track 
 of the English to the shores of the big waters ; and the war-whoop 
 shall ring death in, the ear that sleeps," cried Ishiagaska, with e 
 furious exultation. 
 
 "Let them go, Ishiagaska, let them go from the Yemassec 
 let the warrior have no stop in the chase, when he would strike 
 the brown deer on the edge of the swamp. Let them leave the 
 home of the Yemassee, and take the big canoe over the waters, 
 and the tomahawk of Sanutee shall be buried it should drink 
 no blood from the English." 
 
 " They will not go," exclaimed the other fiercely " there must 
 be blood the white man will not go. His teeth are in the trees 
 and he eats into the earth for his own." 
 
 "Thou hast said, Ishiagaska there must be blood they will 
 not go. The knife of the Yemassee must be red. But not yet 
 not yet ! The moon must sleep first the Yemassee is a little child 
 till the moon sleeps, but then " 
 
 " He is a strong man, with a long arrow, and a tomahawk like 
 the Manneyto." 
 
 " It is good the arrow shall fly to the heart, and the tomahawk 
 shall sink deep into the head. The Yemassee shall have his lands, 
 and his limbs shall be free in the hunt." 
 
 Thus, almost in a strain of lyric enthusiasm, for a little while 
 they continued, until, having briefly arranged for a meeting with 
 other chief's of their party for the day ensuing, they separated, 
 and the night had well set in before Sanutee reappeared in the 
 cabin of his wife. 
 
 He returned gloomy and abstracted his mind brooding over 
 schemes of war and violence. He was about to plunge his nation 
 into all the difficulties and dangers of a strife with the colony, stil] 
 in its infancy, but even in its infancy, powerful to the Indians 
 with a people with whom they had, hitherto, always been at peace 
 ltd on terms of the most friendly intercourse. Sanutee felt the
 
 84 THK YEMASSKE. 
 
 difficulties of this former relation doubly to increase those whicn 
 necessarily belong to war. He had, however, well deliberated the 
 matter, and arrived at a determination, so fraught with peril not 
 only to himself but to his people, only after a perfect conviction of 
 its absolute necessity. Yet, such a decision was a severe trial to a 
 spirit framed as his a spirit, which, as in the case of Logan, de- 
 sired peace rather than war. The misfortune with him, howerer,. 
 consisted in this, that he was a patriot rather than a sage, and, 
 though lacking nothing of that wisdom which may exist in the 
 soul of the true and excited patriot; constituting, when it does so, 
 the very perfection of statesmanship, he yet could not coolly con- 
 template what he was about to do, without misgiving and great 
 anxiety. The schemes in which he had involved himself, were big 
 with the fate of his own and another people ; and seeing what 
 were the dangers of his attempt, his whole thought was necessarily 
 given to the duty of lessening and averting them. But this was 
 not the sole cause of anxiety. It was with a Mutiiiiiiiit rather 
 more Christian than Indian that he recalled the ties and associa- 
 tions which he himself, as well as his people, had formed with the 
 whites generally, and especially with individuals among them, ai 
 the first coming of the European settlers. Ignorant of their power, 
 their numbers, their arts, their ambition, he had been friendly, 
 had cordially welcomed them, yielded the lands of his people 
 graciously, and when the whites were assailed by other tribes, had 
 himself gone forth in their battle even against the Spaniards of 
 St. Augustine, with whom he now found it politic to enter into 
 alliance. But his eyes were now fully opened to his error. It r 
 in the nature of civilization to own an appetite for dominion and 
 extended sway, which the world that is known will always fail to 
 satisfy. It is for her, then, to seek and to create, and not with the 
 Macedonian madman, to weep for the triumph of the unknown 
 Conquest and sway are the great leading principles of her existence, 
 and the savage must join in her train, or she rides over him relent 
 lessly in her onward progress. Though slow, perhaps, in her ap- 
 proaches, Sanutee was sage enough at length to perceive all this, 
 as the inevitable result of her progressive march. The evidence 
 rose daily before his eyes in the diminution of the game in tii
 
 THE YEMASSEE. . 85 
 
 frequent insults to his people, unredressed by their obtrusive neigh- 
 bours and in the daily approach of some new borderer among 
 them, whose habits were foreign, and whose capacities were ob- 
 viously superior to theirs. The desire for new lands, and the 
 facility with which the whites, in many cases, taking advantage 
 .<f the weaknesses of the Indian chiefs, had been enabled to pro- 
 cure them, impressed Sanutee strongly with the melancholy 
 prospect in reserve for the Yemassee. He, probably, would not 
 live to behold them landless, and his own children might, to the 
 last, have range enough for the chase; but the nation itself was in 
 the thought of the unselfish chieftain, upon whom its general voice 
 had conferred the title of " the well- beloved of the Manneyto." 
 
 lie threw himself upon the bearskin of his cabin, and Matiwau 
 stood beside him. She was not young she was not beautiful, 
 but her face was softly brown, and her eye was dark, while her 
 long black hair came down her back with a flow of girlish luxuri- 
 ance. Her face was that of a girl, still round and smooth, and 
 though sorrow had made free, with it, the original expression must 
 have been one of extreme liveliness. Even now, when she laughed, 
 and the beautiful white teeth glittered through her almost purple 
 lips, she wore all the expression of a child. The chief loved her 
 MS a child rather than as a wife, and she rather adored than loved 
 the chief. At this moment, however, as she stood before him. 
 robed loosely in her long white garment, and with an apron of 
 the soft skin of the spotted fawn, he had neither words nor looks 
 for Matiwan. She brought him a gourd filled with a simple beer 
 r. minion to their people, and extracted from the pleasanter roots 
 of the forest, with the nature of which, all Indians, in their rude 
 pharmacy, are familiar. Unconsciously he drank oft' the beverage, 
 and, without speaking, returned the gourd to the woman. She 
 Addressed him inquiringly at last. 
 
 " The chief, Sanutee, has sent an arrow from his bow, yet brings 
 he no venison from the woods ?" 
 
 The red of his cheek grew darker, as the speech reminded him 
 of his loss, not only of dog, but deer ; and though the sailor had 
 proffered him the meat, which his pride had compelled him to 
 reject, he could not but feel that he had been defrauded of the
 
 86 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 spoils of the chase, which were in reality his own. Reminded ai 
 the same time of the loss of his favourite dog, the chief replied 
 querulously : 
 
 " lias Matiwan been into the tree-top to-day, for the voice of the 
 bird which is painted, that she must sing with a foolish noise in 
 tin; ear of Sanutee?" 
 
 The woman was rebuked into silence for the moment, but with 
 i knowledge of his mood, she sank back directly behind him, 
 upon a corner of the bearskin, and, after a few prefatory notes, as 
 if singing for her own exercise and amusement, she carolled forth 
 in an exquisite ballad voice, one of those little fancies of the 
 Indians, which may be found among nearly all the tribes from 
 Carolina to Mexico. It recorded the achievements of that Puck 
 of the American forests, the mocking-bird ; and detailed the 
 manner in which he procured his imitative powers. The strain, 
 playfully simple in the sweet language of the original, must neces 
 sarily lose in the more frigid verse of the translator. 
 
 THE " COONEE-LATEE," OR "TRICK-TONGUE." 
 
 L 
 
 " As the Coonee-latee looked fortli from his lea 
 He saw below him a Yemassee chief, 
 
 In his war-paint, all so grim 
 Sung boldly, then, the Coonee-latee, 
 I, too, will seek for mine enemy; 
 
 And when the young moon grows dim, 
 CTl slip through the leaves, nor shake them, 
 I'll come on my foes, nor wake them, 
 And I'll take off their scalps like him. 
 
 II. 
 
 M In the forest grove, where the young birds slept, 
 Slyly by night, through the leaves he crept, 
 
 With a footstep free and bold 
 From bush to bush, and from tree to tree, 
 They lay, wherever his eye could see, 
 
 The bright, the dull, the young, and the old' 
 111 cry my war-whoop, said lie, at breaking 
 The sleep, that shall never know awaking, 
 
 And their hearts shall soon grow cold.
 
 THE YJCAIASSEE. 87 
 
 III 
 
 Bit as cigher and nigher the spot he crept, 
 And saw that with open mouth they slept, 
 
 The thought grew strong in his brain 
 And from bird to bird, with a cautious tread, 
 He unhook'd the tongue, out of every head, 
 
 Then flew to his perch again ; 
 And thus it is, whenever he chooses, 
 The tongues of all of the birds he uses, 
 
 And none of them dare complain."* 
 
 The silly little ballad may have had its effect in soothing the 
 humours of the chief, for which it was intended : but he made no 
 remark. Though sad and vacant of look, he seemed soothed, 
 however, and when a beautiful pet fav/n bounded friskingly into 
 the lodge, from the enclosure which adjoined it, and leaped play- 
 fully upon him, as, with an indulged habit, he encouraged its 
 caivsses. The timid Matiwan, herself, after a little while, encou- 
 rag<-d by this show of good nature, proceeded to approach him 
 also. She drew nigh to him in silence, still behind him, and 
 hesitatingly, her hand at length rested upon his shoulder. To the 
 liberty thus taken with a great chief, there was no objection made 
 but at the same time, there was no acknowledgment or" return, no 
 recognition. Sanutee, silent and meditative, unconsciously, it 
 would seem, suffered his own hand to glide over the soft skin and 
 sin-inking neck of the fawn. The animal grew more familiar and 
 thrust its nose into his face and bosom, a liberty which Matiwan, 
 the wife, was seldom emboldened to attempt. Suddenly, however, 
 the warrior started, and thrust the now affrighted animal away 
 from him with violence. 
 
 " Woman !" he cried, in a voice of thunder, " the white trader 
 has been in the lodge of Sanutee." 
 
 " No ! no ! Sanutee, the white trader, no I not Granger. lit 
 has not been in the lodge of the chief!" 
 
 " The beads, Matiwan ! the beads ! See !" with the words, he 
 caught the fawn with one hand, while with the other he tore from 
 its neck, a thick necklace, several strands of large particolored 
 
 * The grove is generally silent when the mocking-bird sings.
 
 88 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 beads which had been wound about the neck of the animal 
 Dashing them to the ground, he trampled them fiercely under his 
 feet. 
 
 " The boy, Sanutee the boy, Occonestoga " 
 
 " The dog ! came he to the lodge of Sanutee when Sanutee said 
 no ! Matiwan woman ! Thy ears have forgotten the words of 
 the chief of Sanutee thine eyes have looked upon a dog." 
 
 "'Tis the child of Matiwan Matiwaii has no child but Ocuo- 
 uestoga." And she threw herself at length, with her face to the 
 ground, at the foot of her lord. 
 
 " Speak, Matiwan darkens the dog still in the lodge of 
 Sanutee ? " 
 
 " Sanutee, no ! Occonestoga has gone with the chiefs of the 
 English, to talk in council with the Yeruassee." 
 
 " Ha thou speakest ! look, Matiwan where stood the sun 
 \vhen the chiefs of the pale-faces came? Speak!" 
 
 " The sun stood high over the lodge of Matiwan, and saw not 
 beneath the tree-top." 
 
 " They come for more lands they would have all ; but they 
 know not that Sanutee lives they say he sleeps that he has no 
 tongue, that his people have forgotten his voice ! They shall 
 see." As he spoke, he pointed to the gaudy beads which lay 
 strewed over the floor of the cabin, and, with a bitter sarcasm of 
 glance and speech, thus addressed her : 
 
 " What made thee a chief of Yemassee, Matiwan, to sell the 
 lands of my people to the pale-faces for their painted glass ? They 
 would buy thee, and the chief, and the nation all ; and with what? 
 With that which is not worth, save that it is like thine eye. And 
 tliou didst thou pray to the Manneyto to send thee from thy 
 people, that thou mightst carry water for the pale-faces from the 
 spring ? Go thou hast done wrong, Matiwan." 
 
 " They put painted glass into the hands of Matiwan, but they 
 asked not for lands ; they gave it to Matiwan, for she was the wife 
 of Sanutee, the chief." 
 
 " They lied with a forked tongue. It was to buy the lands of 
 our people ; it was to send us into the black swamps, where the 
 sun sleeps for ever. But I will go where is the dog the slare
 
 THE YEMASSEE. b 
 
 of the pale-fa< es ? Where went Occonestoga with the Eng 
 lish?" 
 
 " To Pocota-ligo they would see the chiefs of Yemassee." 
 
 "To buy them with the painted glass, and red cloth, and -burn- 
 ing water. Manneyto be with my people, for the chiefs are slaves 
 to the English ; and thev will give the big forests of my fathers to 
 be cut down by the accursed axes of the pale-face. But they 
 blind me not they buy not Sanutee ! The knife must have 
 blood the Yemassee must have his home with the old grave of 
 his father. I will go to Focota-ligo." 
 
 " Sanutee, chief- -'tis Matiwan, the mother of Occonestoga, that 
 speaks ; thou wnt see the young chief thou wilt look upon the 
 boy at Pocota-ligo. Oh ! well- beloved of the Yemassee look not 
 to strike." She sank at his feet as she uttered the entreaty, and 
 her arms clung about his knees. 
 
 " I would not see Occonestoga, Matiwan for he is thy son. 
 Manneyto befriend thee, but thou hast been the mother to a 
 dog." 
 
 " Thou wilt not see to strike " 
 
 " I would not see him ! but let him not stand in the path of 
 Sanutee. Look, Matiwan the knife is in my hand, and there is 
 death for the dog, and a curse for the traitor, from the black 
 swamps of Opitchi-Manneyto." 
 
 He said no more, and she, too, was speechless. She could only 
 raise her hands and eyes, in imploring expression to his glance, 
 as, seizing upon his tomahawk, which he had thrown beside him 
 upon the skin, he rushed forth from the lodge, and took the path 
 to 1'ocota-ligo.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 "Ye shall give all, 
 
 The old homes of your fathers, and their gravel, 
 To be the spoils of strangers, and go forth 
 In exile." 
 
 THE house of council, in the town of Pocota-ligc ; was filled that 
 night with an imposing conclave. The gauds and the grandeur tho 
 gilded mace, the guardian sword, the solemn stole, the rich pomps 
 of civilization were wanting, it is true ; but how would these have 
 shown in that dark and primitive assembly ! A single hall huge 
 and cumbrous built of the unhewn trees of the forest, composed 
 the entire building. A single door furnished the means of access 
 and departure. The floor was the native turf, here and there con- 
 cealed by the huge bearskin of some native chief, and they sat 
 around, each in his place, silent, solemn ; the sagacious mind at 
 work ; the big soul filled with deliberations involving great events, 
 and vital interests of the future. No assembly of the white man 
 compares, in seeming solemnity at least, with that of the red. 
 Motionless like themselves, stood the torch-bearers, twelve in num- 
 ber, behind them standing and observant, and only varying their 
 position when it became necessary to renew with fresh materials 
 the bright fires of the ignited pine which they bore. These were 
 all the pomps of the savage council; it is but the narrow sense, 
 alone, which would object to their deficiency. The scene is only 
 for the stern painter of the dusky and sublime it would suffer in 
 other hands. 
 
 Huspah was at this time the superior chief the reigning king, 
 if we may apply that title legitimately to the highest dignitary of 
 * people with a form of government like that of the Yemassees. 
 lie bore the title of Mico, which may bfe rendered king or prince, 
 though it was in name only that he might be considered in that 
 character. He was not one of those nieu of great will, who make
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 91 
 
 royalty power, no less than a name. In this sense there was no 
 king in the nation, unless it were Sanutee. Huspah was a shadowy 
 head. The Yemassees were ruled by the joint authority of several 
 chiefs each controlling a special section with arbitrary authority, 
 vet, when national measures were to be determined upon, it 
 required a majority for action. These chiefs were elective, and 
 from these the superior, or presiding chief, was duly chosen ; all 
 of these, without exception, were accountable to the nation ; 
 though such accountability was rather the result of popular im- 
 pulse than of any other more legitimate or customary regulation 
 It occurred sometimes, however, that a favourite ruler, presuming 
 upon his Strength with the people, ventured beyond the prescribed 
 boundary, and transcended the conceded privileges of his station ; 
 but such occurrences were not frequent, and, when the case did 
 happen, the offender was most commonly made to suffer the un- 
 measured penalties always consequent upon any outbreak of 
 popular indignation. As in the practice of more civilized com- 
 munities, securing the mercenaries, a chief has been known to 
 enter into treaties, unsanctioned by his brother chiefs ; and, form- 
 ing a party resolute to sustain him, has brought about a civil war 
 in the nation, and, perhaps, the secession, from the great body, of 
 many of its tribes. Of this sort was the case of the celebrated 
 Creek chief, Mackintosh whose summary execution in Georgia, 
 but a few years ago, by the indignant portion of his nation, dis- 
 approving of the treaty which he had made with the whites for 
 the sale of lands, resulted in the emigration of a large minority of 
 that people to the west. 
 
 Among the Yemassees, Huspah, the oldest chief, was tacitlv 
 placed at the head of his caste, and these formed the nobility of 
 the nation. This elevation was nominal, simply complimentary in 
 its character, and without any advantages not shared in common 
 with the other chiefs. The honour was solely given to past achieve- 
 ments ; for at this time, Huspah, advanced in years and greatly- 
 enfeebled, was almost in his second infancy. The true power of 
 the nation rested in Sanutee his position was of all others the 
 most enviable, as upon him the eyes of tb^ populace generally 
 turned in all matters of trying and important character. However
 
 92 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 reluctant, his brother chiefs were usually compelled to yield tc 
 the popular will as it was supposed to be expressed through the 
 lips of one styled by general consent, the " well-beloved " of the 
 nation. A superiority so enviable with the people had the natural 
 effect of making Sanutee an object of dislike among his equals. 
 lie was not ignorant of their envy and hostility. This had 
 been shown in various ways; particularly in the fact that in 
 council, it was only necessary that he should introduce a measure 
 to find him in a minority. An appeal to the people would, it 
 is true, make all right; but to the patriotic mind of Sanutee, 
 particularly now, and with such important objects in view, the 
 relation with his brother chiefs was a subject of great anxiety, 
 as he plainly foresaw the evil consequences to the people of this 
 hostility on the part of the chiefs to himself. The suggestions 
 which he made in council were usually met with decided oppo- 
 sition by a regularly combined party, and it was only necessary 
 to identify with his name the contemplated measure, to ralU 
 against it sufficient opposition for its defeat in council. The nation, 
 it is true, did him justice in the end ; but to his mind there was 
 nothing grateful in this sort of conflict. 
 
 Under this state of things at home, it may be readily understood 
 why the hostility of Sanutee to the approaching English, should 
 meet little sympathy with the majority of those around him. 
 Accordingly, we find, that as the favourite grew more and more 
 jealous of and hostile to the intruders, they became, for this very 
 reason, more and more favoured by the party among the chiefs, 
 which was envious of his position. No one knew better than 
 Sanutee the true nature of the difficulty. lie was a far superior 
 politician to those around him, and had long since foreseen the 
 warfare he would be compelled to wage with his associates when 
 liming at the point, to which, at this moment, every feeling of his 
 soul, and every energy of his mind, was devoted. It was this 
 knowledge that chiefly determined him upon the conspiracy the 
 plan of which, perfectly unknown to the people, was only entrusted 
 to the bosom of a few chiefs, having like feelings with himself 
 These difficulties of*his situation grew more obvious to his mind, 
 as, full of evil auguries from the visit of the English commissioners,
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 93 
 
 he took the lonely path from his own lodge to the council-house of 
 Pocota-ligo. 
 
 lie arrived just in season. As he feared, the rival chiefs had 
 taken advantage of his absence to give audience to the commis- 
 sioners of treaty from the Carolinians, charged with the power to 
 purchase from the Yemassees a large additional tract of land, 
 which, if sold to the whites, would bring their settlements directly 
 upon the borders of Pocota-ligo itself. The whites had proceeded, 
 as was usual in such cases, to administer bribes of one sort or 
 another, in the shape of presents, to all such persons, chiefs, or 
 people, as were most influential and seemed most able to serve 
 them. In this manner had all in that assembly been appealed to 
 Huspah, an old and drowsy Indian, tottering with palsy from side 
 to side of the skin upon which he sat, was half smothered in the 
 wide folds of a huge scarlet cloak which the commissioners had flung 
 over his shoulders. Dresses of various shapes, colours, and decora- 
 t-oiis, such as mio-ht be held most imposing to the Indian eye, had 
 Ive-ii given to each in the assembly, and put on as soon as received. 
 In addition to these, other gifts, such as hatchets, knives, beads, <fcc., 
 had been made to minister to the craving poverty of the people, so 
 that, before the arrival of Sanutee, the minds of the greater number 
 of the chiefs had been rendered very flexible, and prepared to give 
 gracious answer to al' claims and proffers which the policy of the 
 white commissioners should prompt them to make. 
 
 Sanutee entered abruptly, followed by Ishiagaska, who, like him- 
 self, had just had intelligence of the council. There was a visible 
 start in the assembly as the old patriot came forward, full into the 
 centre of the circle, surveying, almost analyzing every feature, and 
 sternly dwelling in his glance upon the three commissioners, who 
 sat a little apart from the chiefs, upon a sort of mat to themselves 
 Another mat held the presents which remained unappropriated and 
 had been reserved for such chiefs, Ishiagaska and Sanutee among 
 them, as had not been present at the first distribution. 
 
 The survey of Sanutee, and the silence which followed his first 
 appearance within the circle, lasted not long: abruptly, and with 
 a voice of deep but restrained emotion, addressing no one in 
 particula' t>wt with a glance almost exclusively given to the com-
 
 94 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 missioners, he at length exclaimed as follows, in his own strong 
 language : : 
 
 " Who came to the lodge of Sanutee to say that the chiefs \\<-re 
 in council? Is not Sanutee a chief? the Yemassees call him so. 
 or he dreams. Is he not the well-beloved chief of the Yemassees, 
 or have his brothers taken from him the totem of his tribe ? Look, 
 chiefs, is the broad arrow of Yemassee gone from the shoulder of 
 Sanutee ?" 
 
 And as he spoke, throwing the loose hunting shirt open to the 
 shoulder, he displayed to the gaze of all, the curved arrow upon 
 his bosom, which is the badge of the Yemassees. A general silence in 
 the assembly succeeded this speech none of them caring to answer 
 for an omission equally chargeable upon all. The eye of the chief 
 lowered scornfully as it swept the circle, taking in each face with 
 its glance ; then, throwing upon the earth the thick bearskin 
 which he carried upon his arm, he took his seat with the slov, 
 and sufficient dignity of a Roman senator, speaking as he 
 descended : 
 
 " It is well Sanutee is here in council he is a chief of the 
 Yemassees. He has ears for the words of the English." 
 
 Granger, the trader and interpreter, who stood behind the com- 
 missioners, signified to them the purport of Sanutee's speech, and 
 his demand to hear anew the propositions which the English came 
 to make. Sir Edmund Bellinger then newly created a landgrave, 
 one of the titles of Carolinian nobility the head of the deputa- 
 tion, arose accordingly, and addressing himself to the new-c-omer, 
 rather than to the assembly, proceeded to renew those pledges and 
 protestations which he had already uttered to the rest. His speech 
 was immediately interpreted by Granger, who, residing in Pocota 
 ligo, was familiar with their language. 
 
 " Chiefs of the Yemassee," said Sir Edmund Bellinger " we 
 come from your English brothers, and we t ring peace with this 
 belt of wampum. They have told us to say o you that one house 
 covers the English and the Yemassee. There is no strife between 
 us we are all the children of one father, and to prove their faith 
 they have sent us with words of good-will and friendship, and iu 
 you, Sanutee, as tho. well-beloved chief of the Yemassee, thev sen<l
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 95 
 
 this coat, which they have worn close to their hearts, and which 
 they would have you wear in like manner, in proof of the love 
 that is between us." 
 
 Thus saying, the chief of the deputation presented, through the 
 medium of Granger, a rich but gaudy cloak, such as had already 
 been given to Huspah ; but putting the interpreter aside and 
 rejecting the gift, Sanutee sternly replied 
 
 " Our English brother is good, but Sanutee asks not for the 
 cloak. Does Sanutee complain of the cold ? " 
 
 Granger rendered this, and Bellinger addressed him in reply 
 
 "The chief Sanutee will not reject the gift of his English 
 brother." 
 
 " Does the white chief come to the great council of the Yemas- 
 sees as a fur trader ? Would he have skins for his coat ? " vraa 
 the reply. 
 
 " No, Sanutee the English chief is a great chief, and dojr. not 
 barter for skins." 
 
 "A great chief ? he came to the Yemassee a little child, and 
 we took him into our lodges. We gare him meat and ^ater." 
 
 " We know this, Sanutee." But the Yemassee went ca without 
 heeding the interruption. 
 
 " We helped him with a staff as he tottered throvgh the thick 
 wood." 
 
 " True, Sanutee." 
 
 " We showed him how to trap the beaver,* and to hunt the 
 deer we made him a lodge for his woman ; and we sent our 
 young men on the war-path against his enemy." 
 
 " We have not forgotten we have denied none of the services, 
 Sanutee, which yourself and people have done for us," said the 
 deputy. 
 
 " And now he sends us a coat ! " and as the chief uttered this 
 unlooked-for anti-climax, his eye glared scornfully around upon 
 the subservient portion of the assembly. Somewhat mortified 
 with the tenour of the sentence which the interpreter in the mean- 
 time had repeated to him, Sir Edmund Bellinger would have 
 answered the refractory chief 
 
 * The beaver, originally taken in Carolina, is now extinct.
 
 96 TUB YEMASSEE. 
 
 " No, but, Sanutee " 
 
 Without heeding or seeming to hear him, the old warrior 
 went on 
 
 " He sends good words to the Yemassee, he gives him painted 
 p;lass, and makes him blind with a water which is poison his shot 
 rings in our forests we hide from his long knife in the cold 
 swamp, while the copper snake creeps over us as we sleep." 
 
 As soon as the deputy comprehended this speech, he replied 
 
 " You do us wrong, Sanutee, you have nothing to fear from 
 the English." 
 
 Without waiting for the aid of the interpreter, the chief, who 
 aad acquired a considerable knowledge of the simpler portions of 
 the language, and to whom this sentence was clear enough, im- 
 mediately and indignantly exclaimed in. his own addressing the 
 chiefs, rather than replying to the Englishman 
 
 " Fear, Sanutee has nc tear of the English he fears only the 
 Manneyto. He only fears that his people may go blind with the 
 English poison drink, that the great chiefs of the Yemassee may 
 sell him for a slave to the English, to plant his maize and to be 
 beaten with a stick. But, let the ears of the chiefs hear the voice 
 of Sanutee the Yemassee shall not be. the slave of the pale-face." 
 
 "There is no reason for this fear, Sanutee the English have 
 always been the friends of your people," said the chief of the 
 deputation. 
 
 " Would the English have more land from the Yemassee ? Let 
 nim speak ; Granger, put the words of Sanutee in his ear. Why 
 does he not speak ? " 
 
 Granger did as directed, and Sir Edmund replied : 
 
 "The English do want to buy some of the land of your 
 people " 
 
 " Did not Sanutee say ? And the coat is for the land," quickly 
 exclaimed the old chief, speaking this time in the English lan- 
 guage. 
 
 " No, Sanutee," was the reply " the coat is a free gift from the 
 English. They ask for nothing in return. But we would buy your 
 iand with other things we would buy on the same terms that v 
 bought from the Cassique of Combahee."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 97 
 
 " The Cassique of Corabahee is a dog he sells the grave of his 
 father. 1 will not sell the land of my people. The Yemassee 
 ioves the old trees and the shady waters where he was born, 'ana 
 where the bones of the old warriors lie buried. I speak to you, 
 chiefs it is the voice of Sanutee. Hear his tongue it has no 
 fork ; look on his face it does not show lies. These are scare of 
 battle, when I stood up for my people. There is a name for these 
 scars they do not lie. Hear me, then." 
 
 " Our ears watch," was the general response, as he made his 
 address to the council. 
 
 " It is good. Chiefs of the Yemassee, now hear. Why comes 
 the English to the lodge of our people ? Why comes he with a 
 red coat to the Chief why brings he beads and paints for the eve 
 of a little boy ? Why brings he the strong water for the young; 
 man ? Why makes he long speeches, full of smooth words why 
 does he call us brother ? He wants our lands. But we have no 
 lands to sell. The lands came from out fathers they must go to 
 our children. They do not belong to us to sell they belong to 
 our children to keep. We have sold too much land, and the old 
 turkey, before the sun sinks behind the trees, can fly over all the 
 land that is ours. Shall the turkey have more land in a day than 
 the Yemassee has for his children ? Speak for the Yemassee, 
 chiefs of the broad-arrow speak for the Yemassee speak, Ishia- 
 ga.ska speak, Choluculla speak, thou friend of Manneyto, whose 
 words are true as the sun, and whose wisdom comes swifter than 
 the lightning speak, prophet speak, Enoree-Mattee speak for 
 the Yemassee." 
 
 To the high-priest, or rather the great prophet of the nation, 
 the latter portion of the speech of Sanutee had been addressed. 
 He was a cold, dark, stern looking man, gaudily arrayed in a flow- 
 ing garment of red, a present from the whites at an early period, 
 while a fillet around his head, of cloth stuck with the richest 
 feathers, formed a distinguishing feature of dress from any of the 
 rest. His voice, next to that of Sanutee, was potential among the 
 Indians ; and the chief well knew, in appealing to him, Choluculla, 
 and Ishiagaska. that he was secure of these, if of none other in 
 the council. 
 
 5
 
 98 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Enoree-Mattee is the great prophet of Manneyto he will uot 
 sell the lands of Yemassee." 
 
 "'Tis well speak, Ishiagaska speak, Choluculla," exclaimed 
 Sanutee. 
 
 They replied in the same moment : 
 
 "The English shall have no land from the Yemassee. It is the 
 voice of Ishiagaska -"it is the voice of Choluculla." . 
 
 : * It is the voice of Sanutee it is the voice of the prophet it 
 is the voice of the Manneyto himself!" cried Sanutee, with a tone 
 of thunder, and with a solemn emphasis of manner that seemed 
 to set at rest all further controversy on the subject. But the voices 
 vhich had thus spoken were all that spoke on this side of the 
 question. The English had not been inactive heretofore, and, what 
 with the influence gained from their numerous presents and 
 promises to the other chiefs, and the no less influential dislike and 
 jealousy which the latter entertained for the few more controlling 
 spirits taking the stand just narrated, the minds of the greater 
 number had been well prepared to make any treaty which might 
 be required of them; trusting to their own influence somewhat, but 
 more to the attractions of the gewgaws given in return for their 
 lands, to make their peace with the great body of the people in 
 the event of their dissatisfaction. Accordingly, Sanutee had 
 scarcely taken his seat, when one of the most hostile among them, 
 a brave but dishonest chief, now arose, and addressing himself 
 chiefly to Sanutee, thus furnished much of the feeling and answer 
 for the rest : 
 
 "Does Sanutee speak for the Yemassee and where are the 
 other chiefs of the broad-arrow ? Where are Metatchee and 
 Huspah where is Oonalatchie, where is Sarrataha \ are they nut 
 here ? It is gone from me when they sung the death-song, and 
 went afar to the blessed valley of Manneyto. They are not gone 
 they live they have voices and can speak for the Yemassee. 
 Sanutee may say, Ishiagaska may say, the prophet may say but 
 they say not for Manneywanto. There are brave chiefs of 
 the Yemassee, yet we hear only Sanutee. Sanutee ! cha ! cha 1 
 I am here I Manneywanto. I speak for the trade' with our 
 Lugiish brother. The Yemassec wi)' sell the land to their
 
 THE YEJLA3SEE. 99 
 
 brothers.* He was followed by another and another, afl in the 
 
 "Metatchee will trade with the English. The English is the 
 brother to the Yemassee," 
 
 " Oonalatchie will sell the land to our English brothers." 
 
 And so on in succession, all but the four first speaker*, the as- 
 sembled chiefs proceeded to sanction the proposed treaty, the terms 
 of which had been submitted to them before. To the declaration 
 of each, equivalent as it was to the rote given in our assemblies, 
 Sanutee had but a single speech. 
 
 "It is well! It is well!" 
 
 And he listened to the voles in succession, approving of the 
 trade, until, rising from a corner of the apartment in which, lying 
 prostrate, he had till then kept out of the sight of the assembly 
 and entirely concealed from the eye of Sanutee, a tall /oung war- 
 rior, pushing aside the torch-bearers, staggered forth into the ring. 
 He had evidently been much intoxicated, though now recovering 
 from its effects ; and, but for the swollen face and the watery eye, 
 the uncertain and now undignified carriage, he might well have 
 been considered a fine specimen of savage symmetry and manly 
 beauty. When his voice, declaring also for the barter, struck 
 upon the ear of the old chief, he started round as if an arrow had 
 suddenly gone into his heart then remained still, silently con- 
 templating the speaker, who, in a stupid and incoherent manner, 
 proceeded to eulogize the English as the true friends and dear 
 brothers of the Yemassees. Granger, the trader and interpreter, 
 beholding the fingers of Sanutee gripe the handle of his toma- 
 hawk, whispered in the ears of Sir Edmund Bellinger : 
 
 vr would I not be Occonestoga for the world. Sanutee will 
 tomahawk him before the stupid youth can get out of the way." 
 
 Before the person addressed could reply to the interpreter, his 
 prediction was, in part, and, but for the ready presence of the 
 Englishman, would have been wholly accomplished. Scarcely had 
 the young chief finished his maudlin speech, than, with a horrible 
 yell, seemingly of laughter, Sanutee leaped forward, and, with 
 uplifted arm and descending blow, would have driven the hatchet 
 deep into the scull of the onlv half-conscio s youth, wlen SM
 
 100 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 Edmund seized the arm of the fierce old man in time to defeat the 
 effort. 
 
 " Wouldst thou slay thy own son, Sanutee ?" 
 
 " He is thy slave he is not the son of Sanutee. Thou hast 
 made him a dog with thy poison drink, till he would sell thee his 
 own mother to carry water for thy women. Hold me not, English- 
 man I will strike the slave I will strike thee, too, that art his 
 master ;" and, with a fury and strength which, to check, required 
 the restraining power of half a dozen warriors, he laboured to 
 effect his object. They succeeded, however, in keeping him back, 
 until the besotted youth had been safely hurried from the apart- 
 ment ; when, silenced and stilled by the .strong reaction of his ex- 
 citement, the old chief sank down again upon his bearskin seat in 
 a stupor, until the parchment conveying the terms of the treaty, 
 with pens and ink, provided by Granger for their signatures, was 
 handed to Huspah, for his own" and the marks of the chiefs. 
 Sanutee looked on with some watchfulness, but moved not, until 
 one of the attendants brought in the skin of a dog filled with 
 earth and tightly secured with thongs, giving it the appearance 
 of a sack. Taking this sack in his hands, Huspah, who had been 
 half asleep during the proceedings, now arose, and repeating the 
 word** of general concurrence in the sale of the lands, proceeded 
 to the completion of the treaty by conveying the sack which held 
 some of the soil to the hands of the commissioners. But Sanutee 
 again rushed forward ; and seizing the sack from the proffering 
 hand of Huspah, he hurled it to the ground, trampled it under 
 foot, and poured forth, as he did so, an appeal to the patriotism 
 of the chiefs, in a strain of eloquence in his own wild language 
 which we should utterly despair to render into ours. He implored 
 them, holding as they did the destinies of the nation in their 
 hands, to forbear its sacrifice. He compared the wide forests of 
 their fathers, in value, with the paltry gifts for which they were 
 required to give them up. He dwelt upon the limited province, 
 even now, which had been left them for the chase ; spoke of the 
 daily incursions and injuries of the whites ; and, with those bold 
 forms of phrase and figure known among all primitive people, 
 with whom metaphor and personification supply the deficiency
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 101 
 
 and make up for the poverty of language, he implored them not 
 to yield up the bones of their fathers, nor admit the stranger to 
 contact with the sacred town, given them by the Manneyto, and 
 solemnly dedicated to his service. But he spoke in vain ; he ad- 
 dressed ears more impenetrable than those of the adder. They 
 had been bought and sold, and they had no scruple to sell their 
 country. He was supported by the few who had spoken with him 
 against the trade j but what availed patriotism against numbers' 
 They were unheeded, and, beholding the contract effected which 
 gave up an immense body of their best lands for a strange assort- 
 ment of hatchets, knives, blankets, brads, beads, and other com- 
 modities of like character, Sanutee, followed by his three friends, 
 rushed forth precipitately, and with a desperate purpose, from th* 
 traitorous assembly.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " A vengeance for the traitors ; vengeance deep 
 A* is their treason curses loud and long, 
 Surpassing their own infamy and guilt." 
 
 SANUTEE, the " Well Beloved," was not disposed to yield up the 
 territory of his forefathers without further struggle. The Yemaa- 
 iees were something of a republic, and the appeal of the old 
 patriot now lay with the people. He was much better acquainted 
 with the popular feeling than those who had so far sacrificed it ; 
 and, though maddened with indignation, he was yet sufficiently 
 cool to determine the most effectual course for the attainment of 
 his object. Not suspecting his design, the remaining chiefs con- 
 tinued in council, in deliberations of one sort or another; probably 
 in adjusting the mode of distributing their spoils ; while the Eng- 
 lish commissioners, having succeeded in their object, retired for the 
 night to the dwelling of Granger, the Indian trader a Scotch 
 adventurer, who had been permitted to take up his abode in the 
 village, and from his quiet, unobtrusive, and conciliatory habits, 
 had contrived to secure much of the respect and good will of the 
 Yemassees. Samite, meanwhile, discussed his proposed undertaking 
 with his three companions, Enoree-Mattee, the prophet, Ishiagaska, 
 and Choluculla, all of whom were privy to the meditated insurrec- 
 tion. He next sought out all the most influential and fearless 
 of the Yemassees. Nor did he confine himself to these. The 
 ra=h, the thoughtless, the ignorant all were aroused by his elo- 
 quence. To each of these he detailed the recent proceedings of 
 council, and, in his own vehement manner, explained the evil con- 
 sequences to the people of such a treaty ; taking care to shape his 
 information to the mind or mood of each individual to whom he 
 spoke. To one he painted the growing insolence of the whites, 
 increasing with their increasing strength, almost too great, already, 
 lor any control or management. To another, he described the
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 103 
 
 ftn *ent glories of his nation, rapidly departing* in the subservience 
 with which their chiefs acknowledged the influence, and truckled to 
 the desires of the English. To a third, he deplored the loss of the 
 noble forests of his forefathers, hewn down by the axe, to make 
 way for the bald fields of the settler ; despoiled of game, and 
 leaving the means of life utterly problematical to the hunter. In 
 this way, with a speech accommodated to every feeling and under- 
 standing, he went over the town. To all, he dwelt with Indian 
 emphasis upon the sacrilegious appropriation of the old burial- 
 places of the Yemassee one of which, a huge tumulus upon the 
 edge of the river, lay almost in their sight, and traces of which 
 survive to this day, in melancholy attestation of their past history. 
 The effect of these representations of these appeals coming from 
 one so well beloved, and so highly esteemed for wisdom and love 
 of country, as Sanutee, was that of a moral earthquake ; and his 
 soul triumphed with hope as he beheld them rushing onwards in a 
 momently gathering crowd, and shouting furiously, as they bared 
 the knife and shook the tomahawk in air 
 
 "Sangarrah, Sangarrah-me, Yemassee Sangarrah, Sangarrah- 
 me Yemassee" the bloody war-cry of the nation. To over- 
 throw the power of the chiefs there was but one mode ; and the 
 aroused and violent passions of Sanutee and the chiefs who con- 
 curred with them, did not suffer them to scruple at the employ- 
 ment of any process, however extreme, for the defeat of the pro- 
 ceedings of the council. The excited chiefs, acting in concert, and 
 using all their powers of eloquence, succeeded in driving the in- 
 furiated multitude whom they had roused in the direction of the 
 council house, where the chiefs were still in session. 
 
 " It is Huspah, that has sold the Yemassee to be a woman," was 
 the cry of one " Sangarrah-me he shall die." 
 
 " He hath cut off the legs of our children, so that they walk no 
 longer he hath given away our lands to the pale-faces Sangar- 
 rah-me he shall die 1 " 
 
 " They shall all die have they not planted corn in the bosom of 
 my mother ?" cried another, referring, figuratively, to the sup- 
 posed use which the English would make of the lands they had 
 bought; and, furiously aroused, they all struck their hatchets
 
 104 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 against the house ^>f council, commanding the chiefs within to 
 come forth, and deliver themselves up to their vengeance. But, 
 warned of their danger, the beleaguered rulers had carefully se- 
 cured the entrance ; and, trusting that the popular ebullition 
 would soon be quieted, they fondly hoped to maintain their posi- 
 tion until such period. But the obstacle thus offered to the progress 
 of the mob for mobs are not confined to the civilized cities 
 only served the more greatly to inflame it ; and a hundred hands 
 were busy in procuring piles of fuel, with which to fire the building. 
 The torches were soon brought, the blaze kindled at different 
 points, and but little was now wanting to the conflagration which 
 must have consumed all within or driven them forth upon the 
 weapons of the besiegers ; when, all of a sudden, Sanutee made 
 his appearance, and with a single word arrested the movement. 
 
 " Manneyto, Manneyto " exclaimed the old chief, with the ut- 
 most powers of his voice ; and the solemn adjuration reached to 
 the remotest incendiary and arrested the application of the torch. 
 Every eye was turned upon him, curious to ascertain the occasion 
 of an exclamation so much at variance with the purpose of their 
 gathering, and so utterly unlooked-for from lips which had princi- 
 pally instigated it. But the glance of Sanutee indicated a mind 
 unconscious of the effect which it had produced. His eye was 
 fixed upon another object, which seemed to exercise a fascinating 
 influence upon him. His hands were outstretched, his lips parted, 
 as it were, in amazement and awe, and his whole attitude was that 
 of devotion. The eyes of the assembly followed the direction of 
 his, and every bosom thrilled with the wildest throes of natural 
 superstition, as they beheld Enoree Mattee, the prophet, writhing 
 upon the ground at a little distance, in the most horrible convul- 
 sions. The glare of the torches around him showed the terrific 
 distortion of every feature. His eyes were protruded, as if bursting 
 from their sockets his tongue hung from his widely distended 
 jaws, covered with foam while his hands and legs seemed 
 doubled up, like a knotted band of snakes, huddling in uncouth 
 sports in midsummer. 
 
 " Opitchi-Manneyto Opitchi-Manneyto here are arrows we 
 burn arrows to thee ; we burn red feathers to thee, Opitchi-Man-
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 106 
 
 neyto," was the universal cry of deprecatory prayer and promise, 
 which the assembled mass sent up to their evil deity, whose 
 presence and power they supposed themselves to behold, in the 
 agonized writhings of their prophet. A yell of savage terror then 
 burst from the lips of the inspired priest, and, rising from the 
 ground, as one relieved, but pregnant with a sacred fury, he waved 
 his hand towards the council-house, and rushed headlong into the 
 crowd, with a sort of anthem, which, as it was immediately 
 chorussed by the mass, may have been usual to such occasions : 
 
 "The arrows 
 
 The feathers 
 
 The dried scalps, and the teeth, 
 
 The teeth from slaughtered enemies 
 
 Where are they where are they f 
 We burn them for thee, black spirit 
 We burn them for thee, Opitchi-Manneyto-* 
 
 Leave us, leave us, black spirit" 
 
 The crowd sung forth this imploring deprecation of the demon's 
 wrath ; and then, as if something more relieved, Enoree-Mattee 
 uttered of himself: 
 
 "I hear thee, Opitchi-Manneyto 
 Thy words are in my ears, 
 They are words for the Yemassee ; 
 And the prophet shall speak them aloud 1 
 Leave us, leave us, black spirit" 
 
 "Leave us, leave us, black spirit. Go to thy red home, Opitchi- 
 Manneyto let us hear the words of the prophet we give ear to 
 Enoree-Mattee." 
 
 Thus called upon, the prophet advanced to the side of Sanutee, 
 who had, all this while, preserved an attitude of the profoundest 
 devotion. The prophet then stood erect, lifted, as it were, with 
 inspiration, his eyes spiritually bright, his features sublimed by a 
 sacred fury ; his tongue was loosed, and with lifted hands and 
 accents, he poured forth, in uncouth strains, a wild rhythmic strain, 
 the highest effort of lyric poetry known to his people : 
 " 5*
 
 106 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 "Let the Yeniassee have eara, 
 For Opitchi-Manneyto 
 Tis Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 Not the prophet, now that speaks, 
 Hear Opitchi-Manneyto. 
 
 "In my agony, he came, 
 And he hurl'd me to the ground ; 
 Dragged me through the twisted bush, 
 Put his hand upon my throat* 
 Breathed his fire into my mouth- 
 That Opitchi-Manneyto. 
 
 "And he said to me in wrath, 
 Listen, what he said to me ; 
 Hear the prophet, Yemassees 
 For he spoke to me in wrath ; 
 He was angry with my sons, 
 For he saw them bent to slay, 
 Bent to strike the council-chiefs, 
 And he would not have them slain. 
 That Opitchi-Mauneyto." 
 
 As the prophet finished the line that seemed to deny them the 
 revenge which they had promised themselves upon their c.hief's, 
 the assembled multitude murmured audibly, and Sanutee, than 
 whom no better politician lived in the nation, knowing well that 
 the show of concession is the best mode of execution among the 
 million, came forward, and seemed to address the prophet, while 
 his speech was evidently meant for them. 
 
 " Wherefore, Enoree-Mattee, should Opitchi-Manneyto save the 
 false chiefs who have robbed their people ? Shall we not have 
 their blood shall we not hang their scalps in the tree shall we 
 not bury their heads in the mud ? Wherefore this strange word 
 from Opitchi-Manneyto wherefore would he save the traitors ?" 
 
 " It is the well-beloved it is the well-beloved of Manneyto 
 speak, prophet, to Sanutee," was the general cry ; and the howl, 
 which, at that moment, had been universal, was succeeded by the 
 hush and awful stillness of the grave. The prophet was not slow 
 to answer for the demon, in a wild strain like that already given 
 them:
 
 THE YEMASSEI. 107 
 
 "Tis Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 Not the prophet, now that speaks, 
 Give him ear then, Yemassee, 
 Hear Opitchi-Manneyto. 
 
 14 Says Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 Wherefore are my slaves so few 
 Not for me the gallant chief, 
 Slaughtered by the Yemassee 
 Blest, the slaughtered chief must go, 
 To the happy home that lies 
 In the bosom of the hills, 
 Where the game is never less, 
 Though the hunter always slays 
 Where the plum-groves always bloon. 
 And the hunter never sleeps. 
 
 " Says Opitchi-Manneyto 
 Wherefore are my slaves so few ? 
 Shall the Yemassee give death 
 Says Opitchi-Manneyto 
 To the traitor, to the slave, 
 Who would sell the Yemassee 
 Who would sell his father's bones, 
 And behold the green corn grow 
 From his wife's and mother's breast 
 
 'Death is for the gallant chief 
 Says Opitchi-Manneyto 
 Life is for the traitor slave, 
 But a life that none may know 
 With a shame that all may see. 
 
 'Thus Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 To his sons, the Yemassee 
 Take the traitor chiefs, says he, 
 Make them slaves, to wait on me. 
 Bid Malatchie take the chiefs, 
 He, the executioner 
 Take the chiefs and bind them down, 
 Cut the totem from each arm, 
 So that none may know the slaves, 
 Not their fathers, not their mothers- 
 Children, wives, that none may know
 
 108 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 Not the tribes that look upon, 
 Not the voung men of their own, 
 Not the people, not the chiefs 
 Nor the good Manneyto know. 
 
 " Thus Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 Make these traitors slaves for me ; 
 Then the blessed valley lost, 
 And the friends and chiefs they knew. 
 None shall know them, all shall flee, 
 Make them slaves to wait on me 
 Hear Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 Thus, his prophet epeaks for him, 
 To the mighty Yemassee." 
 
 The will of the evil deity thus conveyed to the Indians by the 
 prophet, carried with it a refinement in the art of punishment to 
 which civilization has not often attained. According to the 
 superstitions of the Yemassees, the depriving the criminal of life 
 did not confer degradation or shame ; for his burial ceremonies were 
 precisely such as were allotted to those dying in the very sanctity 
 and most grateful odour of favourable public opinion. But this was 
 not the case when the totem or badge of his tribe had been 
 removed from that portion of his person where it had been the 
 custom of the people to have it wrought ; for, without this totem, 
 no other nation could recognise them, their own resolutely refused 
 to do it, and, at their death, the great Manneyto would reject them 
 from the plum-groves and the happy valley, when the fierce Opit- 
 chi-Manneyto, the evil demon, whom they invoked with as much, 
 if not more earnestness than the good, was always secure of his 
 prey. 
 
 Such, then, was the terrific decree delivered by the prophet. A 
 solemn awe succeeded for a moment this awful annunciation 
 among the crowd ; duly exaggerated by the long and painful 
 howl of agony with which the doomed traitors within the council- 
 house, who had been listening, were made conscious of its complete 
 purport. Then came a shout of triumphant revenge from those 
 without, who now, with minds duly directed to the new design, 
 were as resolute to preserve the lives of the chiefs as they had
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 109 
 
 before been anxious to destroy them. Encircling the council- 
 house closely in order to prevent their escape, they determined 
 oatiently to adopt such measures as should best secure them as 
 prisoners. The policy of Sanutee, for it will scarcely need that 
 we point to him as the true deviser of the present scheme, was an 
 admirable one in considering the Indian character. To overthrow 
 the chiefs properly, and at the same time to discourage communi- 
 cation with the English, it was better to degrade than to destroy 
 them. The populace may sympathize with the victim whose 
 blood they have shed, for death in all countries goes far to cancel 
 the memory of offence ; but they seldom restore to their estima- 
 tion the individual they have themselves degraded. The mob, in 
 this respect, seems ;o be duly conscious of the hangman filthinesa 
 of its own fingers.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " This makes of thee a. master, me a slave, 
 And I destroy it ; we are equal now." 
 
 A NOT less exciting scene was now going on within the coumcil 
 chamber. There, all was confusion and despair. The shock o/ 
 such a doom as that which the chiefs had heard pronounced by 
 the people, under the influence of the prophet, came upon them 
 like a bolt of thunder. For a moment it paralyzed with its terror? 
 the hearts of those who had no fear of death. The mere loss of 
 life is always an event of triumph with the brave among the In- 
 dians, and, for the due ennobling of which, his song of past vic- 
 tories and achievements, carefully chronicled by a memory which 
 has scarcely any other employment, is shouted forth in the most 
 acute physical agony, with a spirit which nothing can bend or 
 conquer. But to deprive him of this memory to eradicate all the 
 marks of his achievements to take from him the only credential 
 by which he operates among his fellows, and claims a place in the 
 ranks of the illustrious dead was a refinement upon the terrors 
 of punishment, which, unfrequently practised, was held as a doom, 
 intended to paralyze, as in the present instance, every spark of 
 moral courage which the victim might possess. For a moment 
 such was its effect in the assembly of the chiefs. The solitary 
 howl of despair which their unanimous voices sent up, as the first 
 intimation of the decree met their ears, was succeeded by the deep- 
 est silence, while they threw themselves upon their faces, and tht 
 torch-bearers, burying their torches in the clay floor of the build- 
 ing, with something of that hate and horror which seemed to dis- 
 tinguish the body of the Indians without, rushed forth from the 
 apartment and joined with the assembled people. Their departure 
 aroused the despairing inmates, and while one of them carefully 
 again closed the entrance before the watchful mass without could
 
 THE YEMASSEE. Ill 
 
 avail themselves of the opening, the rest prepared themselves with 
 renewed courage to deliberate upon their situation. 
 
 " There is death for Manney wanto," exclaimed that fierce warrrior 
 and chief " Ke will not lose the arrow of his tribe. I will go forth to 
 the hatchet. I will lift my arm, and strike so that they shall slay." 
 
 "Let them put the knife into the heart of Oonalatchie," criod 
 another " but not to the arrow upon his shoulder. He will go 
 forth with Manneywanto." 
 
 The determination of the whole was soon made. Huspah the 
 superior but superannuated chief, tottered in advance, singing 
 mournfully the song of death with which the Indian always pre- 
 pares for its approach. Ths song became general with the victims, 
 and with drawn knives and ready hatchets, they threw wide the 
 entrance; and rushing forth with a fury duly heightened by the 
 utter hopelessness of escape, they struck desperately on all sides 
 among the. hundreds by whom they were beleaguered. But they 
 had been waited and prepared for, and, forbearing to strike in 
 return, and freely risking their own lives, the Indians were content 
 to bear them down by the force of numbers. The more feeble 
 among them fell under the pressure. Of these was Huspah, the 
 king, whom the crowd immediately dragged from the press, and, 
 in spite of the exertions of Sanutee, who desired the observance 
 of some formalities which marked the ceremony, they fiercely cut 
 away the flesh from that portion of the arm which bore the symbol 
 of his people, while his shrieks of despair and defiance, reaching 
 the ears of his comrades, still struggling with their assailants, 
 heightened their desperation and made their arrest the more dif- 
 ficult. But the strife was in a little time over. The crowd 
 triumphed, and the chiefs, still living and unhurt, saving only 
 a few bruises which were unavoidable in the affray, were all 
 secured save Manneywanto. That powerful and ferocious chief 
 manfully battled with a skill and strength that knew no abate- 
 ment from its exercise, and seemed only heightened by the oppo- 
 sition. A friendly hand, at length, whose stroke he blessed, en- 
 countered him in- the crowd, and severed his skull with a hatchet. 
 He was the only individual of the traitors by whom the vengeance 
 of the Indians was defrauded. Not another of the clan proved for-
 
 112 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 his desperation. The survivors were all securely taken. 
 and, carefully bound with thongs, were borne away to the great 
 tumulus upon which they were to suffer the judgment which they sc 
 much dreaded. There was no escape. They found no mercy 
 They did not plead for mercy, nor for life. Death was implored, 
 but in vain. The prophet the people, were relentless. The knife 
 sheared the broad arrow from breast and arm, and in a single hour 
 they were expatriated men, flying desperately to the forests, home- 
 less, nationless, outcasts from God and man, yet destined to live. 
 It is remarkable that, in all this time, suicide never entered the 
 thoughts of the victims. It forms no part of the Indian's philo- 
 sophy to die by his own hand, and the Roman might have won a 
 lesson from the Yemassee, in this respect, which woujd have 
 ennobled his Catos.* 
 
 Meanwhile, the deputation of the Carolinians lay at the house 
 of Granger, full of apprehensions for their common safety. Nor 
 was Granger himself less so. He felt assured of the danger, and 
 only relied upon the interposition of Sanutee, which he knew to 
 be all-powerful, and which, looking on tbs outbreak of the people 
 as the result of their own impulse, he saw no reason to imagine 
 would be denied on the present occasion. From their place of 
 retreat, which lay on the skirts of the town and nigh the river, the 
 embassy could hear the outcries and clamours of the Indians with- 
 out being acquainted with particulars ; and when at length they 
 beheld the flames ascending from the house of council which, 
 when they had seized upon the chiefs, the rioters had fired be 
 lieving the chiefs consumed in the conflagration, they gave* them- 
 selves up for lost. They did not doubt that the fury which had 
 sacrificed so many and such influential persons would scarcely be 
 satisfied to allow of their escape ; and, firmly impressed with the 
 conviction that their trial was at hand, Sir Edmund Bellinger drew 
 his sword, and, followed by the rest of the deputation, prepared for 
 a conflict in which they had but one hope, that of selling the life 
 dearly, which seemed so certainly forfeited. 
 
 * Ordinarily, such is the case ; yet there are exceptions to the rule. The 
 Cherokees have been frequently known to destroy themselves, after losing 
 their beauty from the smallpox.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 113 
 
 In this mood of mind they waited the coming of the storm ; nor 
 were they long kept in suspense. Having beheld the fearful doom 
 carried into effect, and seen their ancient rulers scourged out of 
 the town, the revolutionists rushed headlong, and with an appetite 
 for blood duly heightened by the little they had seen, to the dwell- 
 ing of the trader vowing as they hurried along, to their infernal 
 deity, Opitchi-Manueyto, an increase of slaves in the persons of the 
 Englishmen, whom they proposed to sacrifice by fire. On theit 
 way, mistaking one of their own people who had dressed himself 
 somewhat after the .fashion of the English, in a dress which had 
 been discarded by some white man, they dashed him to the earth, 
 trampled and nearly tore him into pieces before discovering the 
 mistake. In such a temper, they appeared before the dwelling of 
 the trader, and with loud shouts demanded their prey. 
 
 Determined upon stout resistance to the last, the commissioners 
 had barricaded the little dwelling as well as they could ; and, doubt- 
 less, for a small space of time, would have made it tenable ; but, 
 fortunately for them, just as the furious savages were about to ap- 
 ply the fatal torch to the building, the appearance of Enoree-Mattee 
 and Sanutee spared them an issue which could have onlv termi- 
 uate<J in their murder. Sanutee had his game to play, and, though 
 perfectly indifferent, perhaps, as to the fate of the commissioners, 
 yet, as his hope in the forthcoming insurrection lay in taking the 
 Carolinians by surprise, it was his policy to impress them with con- 
 fidence rather than distrust. He aimed now to divest the embassy 
 of all suspicion, and to confine the show of indignation on the part 
 of the Yemassees, entirely to the chiefs who had so abused their 
 power. 
 
 Addressing the mob, he controlled it in his own manner, and 
 telling them fiat they wanted nothing from the English but the 
 treaty which had so fraudulently been entered into by their 'chiefs, 
 he engaged to them to effect its restoration, along with the skin of 
 earth, which completing the bargain, was held equivalent in then 
 estimation, to a completion of legal right as an actual possession. 
 After some demur, Granger admitted the chief, who came alone to 
 the presence of the deputation, the chairman of which thus sternly 
 addressed him :
 
 114 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Are the English dogs," said Sir Edmund Bellinger, " that thy 
 people hunt them with cries and fire ? Wherefore is this, Sanutee 1" 
 
 " The English have the lands of my people, and therefore ruy 
 people hunt them. The bad chiefs who sold the land as chiefs of 
 the Yemassee, are chiefs no longer." 
 
 " Thou hast slain them ?" inquired Sir Edmund. 
 
 " No, but they are dead dead to Sanutee dead to the Yemas 
 see dead to Manneyto. They are dogs the English have slave.- 
 in the woods." 
 
 " But their acts are good with us, and the English will protect 
 them, Sanutee, and will punish their enemies. Beware, chief 1 
 tell thee there is danger for thy people." 
 
 " It is good. Does the white chief hear my people ? They cry 
 for blood. They would drink it from thy heart, but Sanutee is the 
 friend of the English. They shall touch thee not they shall do 
 thee no harm !" 
 
 " Thou hast said well, Sanutee, and I expected no less from thee ; 
 but why do they not go? Why do they still surround our dwell 
 ing ?" 
 
 " They wait for the wampum they would tear the skin which 
 carries the land of the Yemassee ;" and the chief, as he spoke, 
 pointed to the treaty and the sack of earth which lay by the side 
 of Bellinger. He proceeded to tell them that they should be secure 
 when these were re-delivered to the Indians. But, with the com- 
 missioners it was a point of honour not to restore the treaty which 
 they had obtained from the rulers de facto of the people certain- 
 ly, not to a lawless mob ; and, regarding only the high trust of 
 which he had charge, the speech of the chief commissioner was 
 instantaneous : 
 
 " Never, Sanutee, never only with my blood. Go you have 
 my answer. We shall fight to the last, and our blood be upon the 
 heads of your people. They will pay dearly for every drop of it 
 ihey spill." 
 
 " It is well," said Sanutee, " It is well : Sanutee will go back- 
 to his people, and the knife of the Yemassee will dig for his land 
 in the heart of the English." He left the house, accordingly ; and, 
 with gloomy resignation, Bellinger, with the other commissioners
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 115 
 
 and Granger, prepared for the coming storm with all their philo- 
 sophy. In a few moments the anticipated commotion began. The 
 populace, but a little bofore silent and patient, now chafed and 
 roared like a stormy ocean, and the fierce cry of " Sangarrah-me," 
 the cry for blood, went up from a thousand voices. The torches 
 were brought forward, and the deputies, firm and fearless enough, 
 saw no hope even of a chance for the use of their weapons. The 
 two subordinates, with Granger, looked imploringly to Bellinger, 
 but the stern chief paced the apartment unbendingly, though seem- 
 ingly well aware of all the dangers of their situation. At that 
 moment the wife of Granger a tall, fine looking woman, of much 
 masculine beauty, appeared from an inner apartment, and before 
 she had been observed by either of the commissioners, seizing upon 
 the little skin of earth and the parchment at the same moment, 
 without a word, she threw open the door, and cried out to Sanutee 
 to receive them. This was all done in an instant, and before the 
 stern commissioner could see or interfere, the deposits, placed in 
 the grasp of the savages, were torn into a thousand pieces. 
 
 " Woman, how durst thou do this !" was the first sentence of 
 Bellinger, to the person who had thus yielded up his trust. But 
 she fearlessly confronted him 
 
 "My life is precious to me, Sir, though you may be regardless 
 of yours. The treaty is nothing now to the Yemassees, who have 
 destroyed their chiefs on account of it To have kept it would 
 have done no good, but must have been destructive to us all. Sanu- 
 tee will keep -his word, and our lives will be saved." 
 
 It was evident that she was right, and Bellinger was wise enough 
 to see it. He said nothing farther, glad, perhaps, that the respon- 
 sibility of the action had been thus taken from his shoulders. The 
 assurances of the woman were soon verified. In a short time San- 
 utee re-appeared among the commissioners. The crowd without, 
 meanwhile, had been made to hear his voice, had shared in the 
 destruction of the offensive treaty, and their rage was temporarily 
 pacified. The storm gradually subsided. 
 
 " Sanutee is a friend of the. English," was the soothing assurance 
 of the wily chief. " The wise men of the English will, soon go to 
 their own people. The Yemassee will do them no hurt."
 
 116 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 The commissioners waited perforce the signal of Sanutee to de- 
 part. The clamour having subsided, they prepared to go forth 
 under the protection and presence of the old chief, which the proud 
 Sir Edmund Bellinger had indignantly, but in vain, refused. See- 
 ing that Granger and his wife remained, Sanutee turned suddenly 
 upon him, and in a low tone, unheard by the commissioners, asked 
 why he did not prepare to go also. He answered by avowing his 
 willingness still to remain in Pocota-ligo, as before, for the purpose 
 of trade. 
 
 "Go Sanutee is good friend to Granger, and to his woman. 
 Go all there is fire and a knife in the hand of the Yemassees, and 
 they will drink a deep draught from the heart of the pale-faces. 
 If Granger will not go from the Yemassee, look, the hatchet of 
 Sanutee is ready ;" and he raised it as he spoke " Sanutee will 
 save Granger from the fire-death." 
 
 This is the last service which the Indian warrior may do his 
 friend, and Granger understood the extent of the impending danger 
 from this proffer, meant as a kindness on the part of the old chief. 
 He needed no second exhortation to remove, and, though the hope 
 of gain and a prosperous trade had encouraged him hitherto, to 
 risk every thing in his present residence, the love of life proved 
 Btronger ; for he well knew that Sanutee seldom spoke without good 
 reason. Packing up, therefore, with the aid of his wife, the little 
 remaining stock in trade which he possessed, and which a couple 
 of good-sized bundles readily comprised, they took their ^*;y a.viig 
 with the commissioners, and, guided by Sanutee, soon reached the 
 river. Choosing for them a double canoe, the old chief saw them 
 safely embarked. Taking the paddles into their own hands, the 
 midnight wayfarers descended the stream on their way towards the 
 Block House, while, surrounded by a small group of his people, 
 feanutee watched thei*- slow progress from the banks.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "And merrily, through the long summer day, 
 The southern boatman winds his pliant horn, 
 At sweeping with the long pole down his stream*, 
 lie cheers the lazy hours, and speeds them on. 
 
 .THE fugitives reached the Block House in safety, and foua/ 
 the few hours of repose which they could snatch between the time 
 of their midnight escape and daylight, highly grateful from th( 
 fatigues which they had undergone. The upper apartments wert 
 appropriately divided between the commissioners and Granger, 
 who, with his wife, instead of seeking sleep on their arrival, pro- 
 ceeded with all the mechanical habits of the trader, to attend first 
 to the proper safety and arrangement of his stock in trade ; which, 
 consisting of a few unsold goods, of a description adapted to the 
 wants of that region, and some small bundles of furs, intrinsically 
 of little value, were yet to the selfish tradesman of paramount 
 importance. 
 
 It was early sunrise on the morning following the wild events 
 narrated in our last chapter, when Gabriel Harrison, of whom we 
 have seen little for some time past, appeared on the edge of the 
 little brow of hill, known as the Chief's Bluff, which immediately 
 overlooked the Pocota-ligo river. In the distance, some ten or 
 twelve mi'.es, unseen of course, lay the Indian village or town of 
 the same name. Immediately before Mm, say one or two miles 
 above, in the broadest part of the stream, rested motionless as the 
 hill upon which he stood, the sharp clipper-built vessel, which has 
 already called for some of our attention, and which, at this mo- 
 ment, seemed to attract no small portion of his. Sheltered by the 
 branches of a single tree, which arose from the centre of the bluff, 
 Harrison continued the scrutiny, with here and there a soliloquizing 
 ren.ark, until interrupted by the presence of the commissioners, 
 who, with Granger, now came toward? him from the Block House.
 
 118 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Ha, Sir Edmund gentlemen how fares it, and when came 
 you from Pocota-ligo ? " was the salutation of Harrison to the 
 deputation. 
 
 "At midnight, my lord at midnight, and in a hurry ; we had 
 the whole tribe upon us. There has been a commotion, and by 
 this time, I doubt not, the Yemassees have cut the throats of all 
 the chiefs friendly to our proposed treaty." 
 
 " Indeed, but this is worse and worse. I feared something, and 
 warned the council against this movement. But their cursed 
 desire to possess the lands must precipitate all the dangers I have 
 been looking for. I told them that the Yemassees were discon- 
 tented, and that the utmost care must be taken not to goad them 
 too far. I saw this in the sullenness of old Sanutee himself, and 
 they have given wings to the mischief by their imprudence. But 
 how was it, Sir Edmund ? let us have particulars." 
 
 The circumstances, as already narrated, were soon told, and the 
 countenance of Harrison bespoke the anxious thoughts in his 
 bosom. Turning to Granger, at length, he addressed the trader 
 inquiringly : 
 
 " Can you say nothing more than this what have you learned 
 touching Ishiagaska ? Was it as I feared ? Had he been to St. 
 Augustine ?" 
 
 '" He had, my lord," 
 
 ' Harrison Harrison Captain Harrison," impatiently ex- 
 claimed the person addressed "forget while here, that I have no 
 cth-ir title. Go on." 
 
 " Ishiagaska, sir, and old Choluculla, both of them have been 
 l<> St. Augustine, and have but a week ago returned, loaded with 
 liXiHent." 
 
 " Ay, ay, the storm gathers, and we must kck to it, gentlemen 
 con missioners. This matter hurries it onward. They were* 
 making their preparations fast enough before, and they will now 
 fiml reason enough, in their passions and our cupidity, for instaat 
 action. Yet you say that Sanutee saved you." 
 
 " He did, and seemed friendly enough." 
 
 " Said he aught of disapproval to their proceedings ? mado ha 
 any professions of regard to the English ?"
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 119 
 
 u He said little, but that was friendly, and his interposition for 
 our safety " 
 
 " Was his policy. He is a cunning savage, but I see through 
 him. He does not wish to alarm us, for they can only conque 
 by disarming our caution ; and this is my greatest fear. Our 
 people are so venturous that they Befuse to believe any evidence* 
 short of actual demonstration, and every day finds them thrusting 
 their heads aiid shoulders farther and farther into the mouth of 
 the enemy, and without the chance of support from their friends 
 They will grow wise at a fearful price, or I am greatly deceived." 
 
 " But what do you propose, my lord, if you look for an insur 
 rection near at hand 3" asked Sir Edmund Bellinger. 
 
 44 I might answer you readily enough, Sir Edmund, by asking, 
 you wherefore I am here. But please style me Harrison, and i 
 that be too abrupt in its expression, to your own ears it will not 
 be to mine then make it Master or Captain Gabriel Harrison. It 
 is something of my game to see for myself the difficulties and the 
 dangers at hand, and for this reason I now play the spy. Here, 1 
 am perfectly unknown save to one or two persons except as the 
 captain of a little troop, whose* confidence I secured in the aft'air 
 with your Coosaws and Ashepoos, and which I embodied on that 
 occasion. Still, they only know me as Captain Harrison, and, 
 somehow or other, they are well enough content with me in that 
 character." 
 
 44 And think you that there is an insurrection at hand ?" 
 
 " That, Sir Edmund, is my fear. It is the question which we 
 must examine. It is vitally important that we should know. Our 
 borderers are not willing to come out, unless for serious cause, and 
 to <-al! them out prematurely would not only tax the colony beyond 
 its resources, but would dismiss the present rulers of the people, 
 with curses both loud and deep, to the unambitious retreats of 
 home and fireside. They are turbulent enough- now, and this 
 matter of religion, which our lords proprietors in England, the 
 bigoted old Granville in particular, seem so willing, with their 
 usual stupidity, to meddle with, has completely maddened these 
 eame people, in whose watery county of Gianville we now stand." 
 
 "And what do you propose to do?"
 
 120 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Why, surely, to gain what information we can, before calling 
 the people to arms. To render them cautious, is all that we can 
 do at present. The evidence which I have of this approaching 
 insurrection, though enough for suspicion, will scarcely be con- 
 sidered enough for action ; and I must continue to spy myself, and 
 engage others in the work, so as to keep pace with their move- 
 ments. They must be watched closely, ay, and in every quarter, 
 Sir Edmund, for, let me tell you, that in your own barony of 
 Ashepoo, they are quite as devilishly inclined as here. They are 
 excited all around us." 
 
 "But I have seen nothing of all this," was the reply of the 
 landgrave. " The Ashepoos, what are left of them, seem quiet 
 enough in my neighbourhood." 
 
 " To be sure they are, while in the presence of Sir Edmund 
 Bellinger, the immediate authority of the English in their country. 
 Hut did you strip yourself of your authority, as I have done, for 1 
 am just from that very quarter ; put on the dress, and some of the 
 slashing and bilbo swagger of a drunken captain from the Low 
 Countries, to whom a pot of sour ale is the supreme of felicity 
 they had shown you more of their true nature. Some of mj 
 evidence would amuse you. For example, I crossed the river last 
 night to the house of Tamaita, an old squaw who tells fortunes 
 in the very centre of Terrapin swamp, where she is surrounded bj 
 as damnable an asemblage of living alligators, as would have mad 
 happy all the necromancers of the past ages. She told me mj 
 fortune, which she had ready at my hand, and which, if true, will 
 certainly make me a convert to her philosophy. But, with hei 
 predictions, she gave me a great deal of advice, probably with the 
 iew to their being more perfectly verified. Among other things, 
 she promised us a great deal of lightning soon ; a promise which 
 you would naturally enough suppose, meant nothing more thar 
 one of our summer afternoon thunder storms, which, by the way 
 are terrible enough." 
 
 " What else should she mean !" 
 
 " Her lightning signified the arrows of the Yemassees. In this 
 way, they figure the rapidity and the danger attending the flight 
 of their long shafts. The promise tallied well with the counsel
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 121 
 
 of Sanutee. who advised me yesterday to be off in the big 
 -anoe." 
 
 " Which advice you decline you propose still to continue here;, 
 my lord Captain Harrison, I mean," replied Sir Edmund. 
 
 "Of God's surety, I will, Sir Edmund. Can I else now? I 
 must watch this movement as well as I can, and make our people 
 generally do so, or the tomahawk and fire will sweep them Off in a 
 single night. Apart from that, you know this sort of adventure is 
 a pleasure to me, and there is a something of personal interest in 
 some of my journeyings, which I delight to see ripen." 
 
 Bellinger smiled, and Harrison continued with an air of the 
 most perfect business 
 
 " But speed on your journey, gentlemen the sooner the better. 
 Make the best of your way to Charleston, but trust not to cross the 
 land as you came. Keep from the woods ; for the journey that 
 way is a slow one, and if things turn out as I fear, they will swarm 
 before long with enemies, even to the gates of Charleston. Do me 
 grace to place these despatches safely with their proper trusts. The 
 assembly will read them in secret. This to the lieutenant-governor, 
 who will act upon it immediately. Despatch now, gentlemen I have 
 hired a boat, which Granger will procure for you from Grimstcad." 
 
 The commissioners were soon prepared for travel, and took their 
 departure at once for the city. Granger, after they had gone, 
 returned to the conference with Harrison at the Chiefs Bluff, 
 where the latter continued to linger. 
 
 " Have you seen Hector ?" asked the latter. 
 
 " I have not, sir." 
 
 "Indeed. Strange! He had a charge from me yesterday to 
 take the track of a sea-faring fellow, whom I encountered, -and of 
 whom I had suspicions after that, he was told to cross over, and 
 give you intelligence of my being here." 
 
 " I have seen nothing of him." 
 
 " The blockhead has plunged into trap then, I doubt not. Con- 
 found him, for a dull beast. To be absent at this time, when I so 
 rauch want him." 
 
 While Harrison thus vented his anger and disquiet, Granger, 
 suddenly recollecting that he had been hailed tl.e afternoon before, 
 6
 
 122 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 by some one in a boat, as he was proceeding rapidly to join the 
 commissioners in Pocota-ligo though without knowing the voice 
 or hearing it repeated now related the circumstance, and at once 
 satisfied the person he addressed of the correctness of his appre- 
 hensions. 
 
 " lla he is then in that sailor's clutches. But he shall disgorge 
 him. I'll not lose Hector, on any terms. He's the very prince of 
 body servants, and loves me, I verily believe, as I do my mistress. 
 He must not suffer. Look forth, Granger, you have sharp eyes 
 look forth, and say what you think of the craft, lying there at the 
 Broad-bend." 
 
 " I have watched her, sir, for the last hour, but can't say for 
 certain what to think. It is easier to say what she is not, than 
 what she is." 
 
 " That will do say what she is not, and I can readily satisfy 
 myself as to what she is." 
 
 " She has no colours her paint's fresh, put on since she has 
 been in these waters. She is not a Spaniard, sir, nor is she English, 
 that's certain." 
 
 " Well, what next, Sir Sagacity ? " 
 
 The trader paused a few moments, as if to think, then, with 
 an assured manner, and without seeming to annex any great im- 
 portance to the communication which he made, he dryly replied 
 
 "Why, sir, she's neither one thing nor another in look, but a 
 mixture of all. Now, when that's the case in the look of a vessel, 
 it's a sign that the crew is a mixture, and that there is no one per- 
 son regulating. It's left to them to please their taste in most 
 things, and so that paint seems put on as if Dutch and French, 
 Spanish and Portuguese, and English, all had some hand in it. 
 There's yellow and black, red and green, and all colours, I inake 
 out, where no one nation would employ more than one or two of 
 them." 
 
 "Well, what do you infer from all that?" 
 
 " I think, sir, she's a pirate, or what's no better, a Spanish 
 guarda-costa." 
 
 "The devil you do, and Hector is in her jaws ! But what other 
 reasons have you for this opinion ? "
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 123 
 
 " What is she doing here having no intercourse with the 
 people keeping off from the lauding showing no colours, and 
 yet armed to the teeth ? If there be nothing wrong, sir, why this 
 concealment and distance ? " 
 
 "You jump readily and with some reason to a conclusion, Gran- 
 ger, and you may be right. Now hear my thought. That vessel 
 comes from St. Augustine, and brings arms to the Yemassees, and 
 urges on this very insurrection of which you had a taste last 
 night." 
 
 " Very likely, and she may be a pirate, too. They are thick 
 al>out the coast." 
 
 ''Ay, Granger, as the contents of some of your packages rniglit 
 tell if they had tongues," said Harrison, with a smile. 
 
 " God forbid, captain," exclaimed the trader, with a simple 
 gravity which rose into honest dignity as he continued " I can 
 show bills for all my goods, from worthy citizens in Charleston and 
 elsewhere." 
 
 " No matter ; I charge you not. But you may be right. To 
 bo a pirate and a Spaniard are not such distinct matters, and now 
 I think with you, the probability is, she is both. But what I 
 mean to say, Granger, is this that she comes here now with no 
 mere piratical intent, but to serve other and perhaps- worse pur- 
 poses else, what keeps her from plundering the shore?" 
 
 " The best reason in the world, sir ; it's a long reach she must 
 go through before she safe y keels the sea. It's slow work to get 
 from the bay of the Broad, and a wind takes its pleasure in coining 
 to nil up a sail in this crooked water. Let them once do what 
 they came for, and make the coast, then look out for the good 
 merchantmen who find their way into the Gulf of Mexico." 
 
 " Well, whether Spaniard, or pirate, or Dutch Flyaway, we must 
 get Hector out of her jaws, if it's only to keep him a gentleman, 
 and but stay, she drops a boat. Do you make out who comes 
 in it?" 
 
 " Two men pull " 
 
 " Certain. Who again, Mercury ? " 
 
 " A bluff, stout fellow, sits astern, wears a bltfe jacket, and w 
 
 " A gold chain 8 "
 
 124 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 "He does, sir, with thick-hanging shining buttons." 
 
 " The same. That's Hercules." 
 
 "Who, sir?" 
 
 " Hercules or Ajax, I don't remember which. I gave him one 
 or other, or both names yesterday, and shall probably find another 
 for him to-day ; for I must have Hector out of him ! He shapes 
 for the shore does he ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and from his present course, he will make the parson's 
 landing." 
 
 " Ha ! say you so, most worthy trader \ Well, we shall be at 
 the meeting." "Yes," muttered the speaker, rather to himself 
 than to his companion "we shall be at the meeting ! He must 
 not look upon my pretty Bess without seeing the good fortune 
 which the fates yield her, in the person of her lover. We shall 
 be there, Granger ; and, not to be unprovided with the means tor 
 effecting the escape of Hector, let us call up some of our choir.' 
 spirits some of the Green Foresters they know the signal of 
 their captain, and, thanks to fortune, I left enough for the purpose 
 at the smithy of Dick Grimstead. Come, man of wares and mer- 
 chandises be packing." 
 
 Leading the way from the hill, Harrison, followed by Granger, 
 descended to the level forest about a mile off, in the immediate 
 rear of the Block House, and, placing his hunting horn to his lips, 
 he sounded it thrice with a deep clear note, which called up a 
 dozen echoes from every dell in the surrounding woods. The sounds 
 had scarcely ceased to reverberate before they were replied to, in a 
 long and mellow roll, from one, seemingly a perfect master of the 
 instrument, who, even after the response had been given, poured 
 forth a generous blast, followed by a warbling succession of 
 cadences, melting away at last into a silence which the ear, having 
 carefully treasured up the preceding notes, almost refused to 
 acknowledge. From another point in the woods, a corresponding 
 strain thrice repeated, followed soon after the first, and announced 
 an understanding among the parties, to which the instrument had 
 been made ably subservient, 
 
 "These are my Green Jackets, Granger; you have made 
 money out of that colour, my Plutus my own green jacket
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 125 
 
 I.MI\S, true as steel, and swift as an Indian arrow. Come, lei 
 us bury ourselves a little deeper in the thick woods, where, in 
 half an hour, you may see a dozen of the same colour at the 
 gathering."
 
 CHATTER XIV. 
 
 "I know thee, though the world's strife on thy brow 
 Hath beaten strangely. Altered to the eye, 
 Methinks I look upon the self-same man, 
 With nature all unchanged." 
 
 THE boat from the unknown vessel reached -the point jutting out 
 into the river, in front of the dwelling of the old pastor ; and the 
 seaman, already more than once introduced to our notice, leaving 
 the two men in charge of it, took his way to the habitation in 
 question. The old man received the stranger with all the hospita- 
 lities of the region, and ushered him into the presence of his fam- 
 Jly with due courtesy, though as a stranger. The seaman seemed 
 evidently to constrain himself while surveying ihe features of the 
 inmates, which he did with some curiosity ; and had Harrison been 
 present, he might have remarked, with some dissatisfaction, the 
 long, earnest, and admiring gaze which, in this survey, the beauti- 
 ful features of Bess Matthews were made to undergo, to her own 
 evident disquiet. After some little chat, with that bluff, free, hearty 
 manner which is the happy characteristic of the seafaring man, 
 the frankness, in some degree, relieving the roughness of the man's 
 speech and manner, the stranger contrived to remove much of 
 the unfavourable impression which his gross and impudent cast of 
 face had otherwise made ; and, in reply to a natural inquiry of the 
 pastor, he gave a brief account of the nature of his pursuits in that 
 quarter. A close and scrutinizing legal mind might have picked 
 out no small number of flaws in the yarn which he spun, yet to the 
 unsophisticated sense of the little family, the story was straight- 
 forward and clear enough. The trade in furs and skins, usually 
 carried on with the Indians, was well known to be exceedingly 
 valuable in many of the European markets ; and, with this declared 
 object the seaman accounted for his presence in a part of the world,
 
 THE TEMASSEE. 127 
 
 not often honoured with the visit of a vessel of no much pretension 
 as that which he commanded. From one thing to another, with a 
 fluent, dashing sort of speech, he went on now telling of his own, 
 and now of the adventures of others, and, bating an occasional oath, 
 which invariably puckered up the features of the old Puritan, he 
 contrived to make himself sufficiently agreeable, and after a very 
 passable fashion. Bessy did not, it is true, incline the ear after the 
 manner of Desdemoua to her Blackamoor; but in th3 anecdote, 
 of adventure, which every now and then enriched the rambling 
 speech of their guest, either in the tale of his own, or of the achieve- 
 ments of others, it must be acknowledged that the simple girl found 
 much, in spite of herself, to enlist her curiosity and command her 
 attention. Nor was he less influenced by her presence than she by 
 iiis narrative. Though spoken generally, much of his conversation 
 was seemingly addressed in especial to the maiden. With this ob- 
 ject, he sprinkled his story with the wonders of the West Indies, 
 with all of which he appeared familiar spoke of its luscious fruits 
 and balmy climate its groves of lemon and of orange its dark- 
 eyed beauties, and numerous productions of animal and vegetable 
 life. Then of its gold and jewels, the ease of their attainment, and 
 all that sort of thing, which the vulgar mind would be apt to sup- 
 pose exceedingly attractive and overcoming to the weak one. Hav- 
 ing said enough, as he thought, fairly and fully to dazzle the ima- 
 gination of the girl and, secure now of a favourable estimate of 
 himself, he drew from his bosom a little casket, containing a rich 
 gold chain of .Moorish filigree work, arabesque wrought, and pro- 
 bably a spoil of Grenada, and pressed it on her acceptance. Her 
 quick and modest, but firm rejection of the proffered gift, compelled 
 the open expression of his astonishment. 
 
 " And wherefore not young lady ? The chain is not unbecom- 
 ing for the neck, though that be indeed the whitest. Now, the 
 girls of Spain, with a skin nothing to be compared with yours, they 
 wear such necklaces as thick as grape vines. Come, now don't 
 be shy and foolish. The chain is rich, and worth a deal of money. 
 Let me lock it now about your neck. You will look like a queeu 
 in it a queen of all the Indies could not look more so." 
 
 But the sailor blundered grossly. Bess Matthews was a thinking,
 
 128 THE YEA1ASSEE. 
 
 feeling woman, and he addressed her as a child. She had now 
 recovered from the interest which she had shown while he narrated 
 adventures which excited her imagination, and set her fancy in 
 glow ; conjuring up and putting into activity many of those 
 wondrous dreams which the young romancer has so ready at all 
 times in thought and she soon convinced him that he had greatly 
 mistaken her, when he was so willing to transfer to himself the 
 attention which she had simply yielded to his stories. He began 
 to discover that he had mistaken his person, when he beheld the 
 alteration in her tone and manner ; and sunk away, somewhat 
 abashed, at the lofty air with which she rejected the gift, and re- 
 sented the impertinent familiarity of his offer. But, his discourage- 
 ment was only for a moment. He soon recovered his confidence. 
 If he had surprised the daughter by his freedom, he was soon to 
 astonish the father. Suddenly turning to the old man, he said 
 abruptly : 
 
 " Why, Matthews, you have made your daughter as great a saint 
 as yourself. Ha ! I see you stagger. Didn't know me, eh ! Didn't 
 remember your old parish acquaintance, Dick Chorley." 
 
 The pastor looked at him with some interest, but with more 
 seeming commiseration. 
 
 " And are you the little Richard ?" 
 
 " Little, indeed that's a good one. I was once Httle, and little 
 enough, when you knew me, but I am big enough now, John 
 Matthews, to have myself righted when wrong is done me. It is 
 not now, that the parish beadle can flog little Dick Chorley. Not 
 now, by thunder ! and it's been a sore sorrow with some of them, 
 I think, that it ever was the case." 
 
 " Well Richard, I'm glad to find you so much better off in the 
 world, and with a better disposition to work for yourself honestly, 
 than in old times," said the pastor gravely. 
 
 " Hark ye, Matthews no more of that. That's as it may be. 
 Perhaps I'm better perhaps I'm not. Itfs none of your business 
 either one way or the other ; and to look back too closely into old 
 time doings, ain't a friend's part, I'm thinking. Blast me ! old 
 man, but you had nearly made me forget myself ; and I wouldn't 
 like to say rough things t/j you or any of yours, for I can't but
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 129 
 
 remember you were always more kind to me than the rest, ana il 
 I had minded you I might have done better. But what's done 
 can't be undone, and the least said is soonest mended." 
 
 " I meaut not to speak harshly, Richard, when I spoke of the 
 pa*t," said the pastor, mildly, " but the exile finds it sweet to re- 
 member, even those things* which were sonows in his own land. 
 1 find it so with me ; and though, to speak plainly, Richard, 1 
 would rather not see you to know you as of old, yet the recognition 
 of your person, for a moment, gave me a sentiment of pleasure." 
 
 '' And why should it not and why should it not ? Blast me ! 
 old man, but you don't think I'm the same ragged urchin that the 
 parish fed and flogged that broke his master's head, and was the 
 laughing-stock and the scapegoat of every gentleman rascal in the 
 shire ? no, no. The case is changed, now, and if I'm no better, 
 I'm at least an abler man ; and that stands for right and morality all 
 the world over. I'm doing well in the world, Matthews drive a 
 good trade own a half in as handsome a clipper as ever swum in 
 the blue waters of the gulf; and, if the world will let me, I shall 
 probably in little time be as good that is to say as rich a man 
 as any of them. If they won't, they must look out for themselves, 
 that's all." 
 
 " One thing pleases me, at least, Richard," said the pastor, 
 gravely, " and that is to find your pursuits such that ymi need not 
 be ashamed of them. This should give vou an honest pride, as it 
 certainly yields me great pleasure." 
 
 There was rather more of inquiry than of remark in this obser 
 vation, and Chorley saw it. 
 
 " Ay, ay, if it pleases you, I'm satisfied. You are a good judge 
 of what's right, and can say. For my part, I make it a rule to 
 boast nothing of my virtue. It takes the polish off a good action 
 to turn it over too often in one's mouth." 
 
 There was a satirical chuckle following the speech of the sailor 
 which the pastor did not seem to relish. It seemed to sneer at the 
 joint homilies which they had been uttering. The dialogue was 
 changed by the pastor. 
 
 >l And where is you,- mother now, Richard ?" 
 
 " Ask the parish church-yard it has one grave more, that I can 
 t>*
 
 180 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 swear for, than when you left it ; and, though I'm bad at grammar 
 I could read the old woman's name upon the stick at the head 
 When she died I came off. I couldn't stand it then, though 1 
 stood it well enough before. They have not seen me since, nor 1 
 them and there's no love lost between us. If I ever <y back, it 
 will be to see the old beadle and that grave-stick." 
 
 " I hope you harbour no malice, Richard, against the man for 
 doing his duty ?" 
 
 " His duty ?" 
 
 " Yes, his duty. He was the officer of the law, and compelled 
 to do what he did. Wherefore then would you go back to see 
 him, simply and why do you strangely couple him in your. me- 
 mory with your mother's grave ?" 
 
 " Ha ! that's it. He broke her heart by his treatment to me, 
 and I would break his scull upon her grave as a satisfaction to 
 both of us. I did wrong when a boy, that's like enough, for older 
 people did wrong daily about me ; but was my public disgrace to 
 cure me of my wrong ? They put me in the stocks, then expected 
 me to be a good citizen. Wise enough. I tell you what, Matthews, 
 I've seen something more of the world than you, though you've 
 seen more years than I ; and mark my word ! whenever a man 
 becomes a bad man a thief, an outlaw, or a murderer his neigh- 
 bours have* to thank themselves for three-fourths of the teachings 
 that have made him so. But this is enough on this talk. Let 
 us say something now of yourself-^-and first, how do you like this 
 part of the world ?" 
 
 " As well as can be expected. I am indifferent to any othei^ 
 and I have quiet here, which I had not always in the turbulent 
 changes of England. My family too are satisfied, and their con- 
 tentment makes the greater part of mine." 
 
 " You'd find it better and pleasanter in Florida. I drive a good 
 business there with the Spaniard. I'm rather one myself now, 
 and carry his flag, though I trade chiefly on my own log." 
 
 The dialogue was here broken in upon by the entrance of Har- 
 rison, who, in spite of the cold courtesies of the pastor, and the 
 downcast reserve in the eyes of Bess Matthews, yet joined the 
 little group with the composure of one perfectly satisfied of the 
 most cordial reception.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Thou halt disgorge thy prey, give np thy iptil, 
 And yield thee prisoner. The time it short, 
 Make thy speech fitting." 
 
 BEFQRE resuming with these parties, let us retire to the green 
 wood with Harrison and the trader. We have heard the merry 
 horn of his comrades responding freely to that of the former. 
 u You shall see them," said he to Granger " brave fellows and 
 true, and sufficient for my purpose. I can rely upon Grimstead, the 
 smith, and his brother, certainly, for I left them but a couple ot 
 hours ago at the smithy. Theirs was the first answer we heard. 
 I know not who comes the second, but I look forWat Grayson from 
 that tjuarter, and sure enough, he is here. Ha ! Grayson, you are true 
 and in time, as usual. I give you welcome, for I want your arm." 
 
 " And at your service, captain, to strike deer or enemy, for fight 
 or labour. Ha ! Granger but you have forgotten my knife, which 
 I've sorely wanted." 
 
 " It is here, at the Block House, ready for you." 
 
 " Good ! Well, captain, what's the service now ? I'm ready, you see, 
 and glad that you feel able to count so free upon Wat Grayson." 
 
 " You shall soon see, Grayson. I wait for but a few more of 
 the boys, to show you the work before us ; and in order not to 
 waste more time, wind your horn, and let the men come freely. 5 * 
 
 The horn was wound again, and but a few seconds had elapsed 
 when a distant reply from two other quarters acknowledged the 
 summons. In a few moments the sturdy blacksmith, Grimstead, 
 followed by his younger brother, penetrated the little area, which 
 was the usual place of assemblage. A moment after, a bustling 
 little body, known as Dr. Nichols, the only medical man in that 
 region, also entered the ring, mounted upon a little ambling 
 pony, or tacky from the marsh a sturdy little animal in much 
 se, though of repute infinitely below it merits.
 
 132 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Ha ! doctor our worthy Esculapius -how fares it ? You 
 come in time; for we look to have some bones for your setting 
 before long," exclaimed Harrison, addressing him. 
 
 "Captain Harrison," responded the little professional, with a 
 most imposing manner, " it gives me pleasure at any moment to do 
 my country service. I am proud that my poor ability may be 
 called into exercise, though I should rather have you invoke my 
 personal than professional offices." 
 
 " We shall need both, doctor, most probably. We must first 
 risk our bones before the surgeon may hope to handle them ; ana 
 in doing so, have no scruple that he should risk his along 
 with us." 
 
 " And wherefore, may I ask, Captain Harrison ?" 
 
 " Simply, doctor, that he may be taught a due lesson of 
 sympathy, by his own hurts, which shall make him tender of 
 ours. But we are slow. Who have we here to count on for a 
 brush ?" 
 
 "Count on Dick Grimstead, captain, and you may put down 
 Tom with him ; but not as doctors. I'm not for the doctoring, 
 captain." 
 
 " Irreverend fellow ! " muttered Nichols. 
 
 Harrison laughed, and proceeded to enumerate and arrange his 
 men, who soon, including himself and Granger, amounted to 
 seven. He himself carried pistols, and the short German rifle 
 already described. The rest had generally either the clumsy mus- 
 kets of the time, or. the tomahawk, an instrument almost as formi 
 dable, and certainly quite as necessary in the forests. Some of 
 them were dressed in the uniform of the " green-jackets," the 
 corps which had been raised by Harrison in the Coosaw war, and 
 which he commanded. Though ignorant entirely of his character 
 and pursuits, yet his successful heading of them in that sudden 
 insurrection, at a moment of great emergency, not less thin the 
 tree, affable, and forward manner which characterized him, had 
 endeared him to them generally ; and, unlike the pastor, they weie 
 content with this amount of their knowledge of one whom they 
 had learned not less to love than to obey. 
 
 Harrison looked round upon his boys, as he called them, not
 
 THE YEMASSEK. 133 
 
 heeding sundry efforts which Nichols made to command his atten- 
 'ion. Suddenly addressing Grayson, he asked 
 
 " Where's Murray ? " 
 
 '' Sick, captain on the flat of his back, or I had brought him 
 with me. He lies sick at Joe Gibbons', up by Bates', where he's 
 been running up a new house for Gibbons." 
 
 " He must come from that, Grayson. It is too far from the 
 Block House for any of them, and for a sick man it will be hope- 
 'ess, if there should be war. He is not safe there, Grayson, you 
 must move him." 
 
 " That's impossible, captain. He can't move, he's down flat with 
 the t'ever." 
 
 " Then you must bring him off on your shoulders, or get a cart, 
 tor he is not safe where he is. There is danger of insurrection 
 here. The Yemassees are at mischief, and we shall, before yerv 
 long, have the war-whoop ringing in our ears. We must clear the 
 borders of our people, or the Yemassees will do it for us." 
 
 '' And I'm ready, captain, as soon as they," exclaimed Grayson ; 
 '' and that's the notion of more than Wat Grayson. The boys 
 generally, long for something to do ; and, as we go up the river, 
 the Indians get too monstrous impudent to be borne with much 
 longer." 
 
 " True, Grayson but we must wait their pleasure. I only give 
 you my suspicions, and they amount to nothing, so long as the 
 Yt m;issees profess peace." 
 
 " Oh, hang their professions, captain, say I. I don't see why 
 \s<- should wait on them to begin the brush, seeing it must be be- 
 gun. There's nothing like a dash forward, when you see you have 
 to go. That's my notion ; and, say but the word, we'll catch the 
 weazel asleep when he thinks to catch us. All our boys are ready 
 tor it, and a ring of the horn round Alligator Swamp will bring a 
 dozen ; and by night we could have Dick Mason, and Spragg, and 
 Baynton, who have gone up to the new clearing upon the fork of 
 Tuliflnee." 
 
 " It is well," said Harrison, " that you should be ready, but it 
 is for the council to make war and peace, not for us. We can 
 only provide for our defence in case of assault, and against it I
 
 134 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 want to prepare you, for I greatly apprehend it. But, in the mean- 
 time, I have another job for execution." 
 
 Nichols, now finding a favourable moment, in his usual swelling 
 manner, addressed Harrison and the company. Nichols, we may 
 mention, is ^an incipient demagogue; one of an old school, the 
 duties of which, under the hotbed fosterings of our benign institu- 
 tions, have largely increased the number of its pupils since his day. 
 His hearers knew him well. His vanities were no new things to 
 his present companions. 
 
 " Captain Harrison, understand me. I protest my willingness 
 to volunteer in any matter for the good of the people. It is the 
 part of the true patriot to die for the people, and I'm willing when 
 the time comes. Prepare the block, unsheath the sword, and 
 provide the executioner, and I, Constantine Maximilian Nichols, 
 medical doctor, well assured that in my death I shall save iny 
 country, will freely yield up my poor life, even as the noble 
 Decius of old, for the securing of so great a blessing for our 
 people. But, captain, it must be clear to my mind that the 
 necessity is such, the end to be attained is of so great moment, that 
 the means to be employed are warranted by the laws, in letter and 
 in spirit. Speak, therefore, captain, the design before us. Let me 
 hear your purpose let my mind examine into its bearings and its 
 tendencies, and I will then declare myself." 
 
 Harrison, who knew the doctor quite as well as his neighbours, 
 with singular composure preserved his gravity, while the foresters 
 laughed aloud. He answered : 
 
 " Come with us, Constantine Maximilian your own mind shall 
 judge." 
 
 He led the party to the Chief's Bluff, and from the eminence he 
 pointed out to them at a little distance below, where lay the boat 
 of the schooner ; one of the seamen was to be seen rambling upon the 
 land at a little distance from it, while the other lay in its bottom. 
 
 " Now, Constantine," said he, " behold those men. I want 
 them secured, bound hand and foot, and kept until farther orders." 
 
 " Show me, Captain Harrison, that the peace of the country, the 
 lives of my fellow-countrymen, or the liberties of the people, depend 
 upon the measure, and 1 am ready to yield up mv life in the at-
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 135 
 
 tainment of your object. Until you do this, captain, I decline; 
 and must furthermore lift up my voice in adjuration to those about 
 me, against acting as you counsel, doing this great wrong to the 
 men whom you have singled out for bondage, depriving them of 
 their liberties, and possibly their lives." 
 
 " You are scrupulous, doctor, and we shall have to do without 
 you. We shall certainly secure those two men, though we medi- 
 tate nothing against the liberties of the people." 
 
 " I shall warn them by my voice of your design upon them," 
 was the dogged resolve of the doctor. 
 
 " Of God's surety, if you dare, Nichols, I shall tumble you 
 headlong from the bluff," sternly responded Harrison ; and the 
 patriot to whom the declamation was of itself the only object 
 aimed at, constituting the chief glory in his desire acknowledged, 
 while shrinking back, that the threat offered quite a new view of 
 the case. With the others, Harrison found no difficulty. He 
 
 " Those men must be secured thev are but two, and you are five. 
 They are without arms, so that all you may look for in the affair 
 will be a black eye or bloody nose. This will trouble neither of 
 you much, though less ready than Constantine Maximilian to die 
 for the people. Tumble the dogs into the sand and rope them 
 but do them no more damage than is necessary for that." 
 
 " Who are they, captain ?" asked Grayson. 
 
 " Nay, I know not ; but they come from that vessel, and what 
 she is I know not. One thing is certain, however, and hence my 
 proceeding : in that vessel they have safely packed away my black 
 fellow, Hector." 
 
 " The devil they have the kidnappers !" 
 
 " Ay, have they ; and unless I get him out they will have him 
 in the Cuba market, and heaven knows how many more besides 
 him, in twenty days, and we have no vessel to contend with them. 
 There is but one way to give them a taste of what they may ex- 
 pe3t. You secure these lads, and when you have done so, bring 
 them round to Parson Matthews, sound your horn, and I shall 
 then do my share of the duty." 
 
 Leaving them to the performance of this task, Harrison went
 
 136 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 forward to the cottage of the pastor ; while, headed by (Jrayson, 
 the whole party, Nichols not excepted, went down the bluff, and 
 came by a circuitous route upon the seamen. One of them slept 
 in the boat and was secured without any difficulty. On opening 
 his eyes, he found himself closely grappled by a couple of sturdy 
 woodsmen, and he did not even venture to cry aloud, warned as he 
 had been against such a measure, by the judicious elevation of a 
 tomahawk above his head. The other fellow took to his heels on 
 seeing the capture of his companion, but stood no manner of chance 
 with the fleet-footed foresters. He was soon caught, and Constan- 
 tiue Maximilian Nichols was the most adroit of the party in band- 
 aging up the arms of both, secundum artem. Ah ! if the good 
 doctor could have been content with one profession only ! but like 
 too many craving creatures who enjoy the appetite without know- 
 ing how to feed he aimed at popular favour. His speeches were 
 framed solely with that end, and he accordingly prated for ever, as 
 is the familiar custom always among the little cunning, about those 
 rights of man for which he cared but little. He was not judicious 
 in his declamation, however ; he professed quite too largely ; and, 
 in addition to this misfortune, it grew into a faith among his neigh- 
 bours, that, while his forms of speech were full of bloodshed and 
 sacrifice, the heart of the doctor was benevolently indifferent to all 
 the circumstances and the joys of strife. But the prisoners were 
 now secured, aud, under close gu*rd, were marched off, agreeablr 
 to arrangement, tc tb* coHg* <*f
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "Til the rash hand that rights on the wild lea, 
 Or in the desert violence is law, 
 And reason, where the civil arm ii weak." 
 
 THE entrance of Harrison, alone, into the cottage of the pastor, 
 put a stop to the dialogue which had been going on between him- 
 self and the seaman. The reception which the host gave the 
 new comer, was simply and coldly courteous that of his lady 
 was more grateful, but still constrained ; as for poor little Bess, 
 she feared to look up at all, lest all eyes should see how much 
 kinder her reception would have been. Harrison saw all this, but 
 the behaviour of the pastor seemed to- have no effect upon him. 
 He rattled on in his usual manner, though with something of 
 loftiness still, which appeared to intimate a character of conde- 
 scension in his approaches. 
 
 " Mr. Matthews, it gives me pleasure to find you well better, I 
 think, than when I had the pleasure to see you last. You see, I 
 tax your courtesies, though you could find no relatives of mine in 
 Charleston willing to extend you theirs. But the time will come, 
 sir, and your next visit may be more fruitful. Ah ! Mrs. Matthews, 
 growing young again, surely. Do you know I hold this climate 
 to be the most delightful in the world, a perfect seat of health 
 and youth, in which the old Spaniard John Ponce, of Leon, 
 would certainly have come nigher the blessed fountain he sought, 
 than he ever could have done in Florida. And you, Bess Mios 
 Matthews, I mean still sweet, charming as ever. Ah ! Mrs. 
 Matthews, you are thrice fortunate always blessed. Your years 
 are all so many summers for Providence leaves to your house- 
 hold, in all seasons, one flower that compensates for all the rest." 
 
 And thus, half playful, half serious, Harrison severally ad 
 dressed all in the apartment, the sailor excepted. That worthy 
 looked on, and listened with no little astonULment.
 
 138 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " 1) d easy to be sure," he half muttered to himself. Harri- 
 son, without distinguishing the words, heard the sounds, and 
 readily comprehending their tenour from the look which accom- 
 panied them, he turned as playfully to the speaker as he had done 
 (o all the rest. 
 
 " And you, my handsome Hercules you here too ? I left you 
 in other company, when last we met, and am really not sorry that 
 you got off without being made to feel the long arrow of the Ye- 
 massee. Pray, how came you so fortunate ? Few men here 
 would have killed the dog of an Indian, without looking for the 
 loss of his scalp, and a broken head in requital. Give us your 
 secret, Hercules ?" 
 
 " Look ye, young master I'm not angry, and not going to be 
 angry, but my name, as I told you before, is not Hercules ' 
 
 "Not Hercules, indeed! then it must be Ajax Ajax or 
 .Agamemnon. Well, you have your choice, for you look any of 
 these great men so well, that by one or other of their names, I 
 must call you. I could not well understand you by any other." 
 
 It seemed the policy of Harrison, so he appeared to think, to 
 provoke the person he addressed into something like precipitance, 
 suspecting him, as he did, of a secret and unfriendly object ; and 
 finding him a choleric and rash person, he aimed so to arouse his 
 passion, as to disarm his caution and defeat his judgment ; but, 
 though Chorley exhibited indignation enough, yet, having his own 
 object, and wishing at that moment to appear as amiable as pos- 
 sible, in the presence of those who knew him as a different cha- 
 racter in. childhood, he moderated his manner, if not his speech, 
 to his situation and his desires. Still, his reply was fierce enough, 
 and much of it muttered in an undertone, was heard only by the 
 pastor and the person he addressed. 
 
 " Hark ye, sir, I don't know what ye may be, and don't much 
 care ; but blast my liver, if you don't mind your eyes, I'll take 
 your ears off, and slit your tongue, or I'm no man. I won't suffer 
 any man to speak to me in this manner." 
 
 " Y u won't and you'll take my ears off and slit my tongue 
 Why, Hercules, you're dec'dedly dangerous. But I shall not tax 
 your services so far."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 139 
 
 " Shall do it, though, by thunder, whether you like it or not. 
 You are not two to ne now, youngster, and shan't swing to-day 
 at my cost, as you did yesterday." 
 
 " Pshaw don't put on your clouds and thunder now, old 
 Jupiter you look, for all the world, at this moment, like a pirate 
 of the gulf, and must certainly frighten the ladies should they 
 happen to look on you." 
 
 All these speeches were made sotto voce, in an aside which the 
 ladies could not hear; though it was evident, from the manner of 
 both, that they were uneasy. The pastor fidgeted. He was very 
 much disturbed. When the last sentence of Harrison fell upon 
 Choi-ley's ears, he started visibly, and the fierceness of his look 
 was mingled with one of decided disquiet, while the close, dark, 
 penetrating eye of Harrison was fixed sternly upon his own. 
 Before he could recover in time for a reply in the same manner, 
 Harrison went on, resuming all his playfulness of speech and look. 
 
 " Don't mean to offend, Hercules, far from it. But really, when 
 I spoke, your face did wear a most rlibustier sort of expression, 
 such as Black Beard himself might put on while sacking a mer- 
 chantman, and sending her crew along the plank." 
 
 " My name, young man, as I told you before," began the sailor, 
 with a look and tone of forbearance and meekness that greatly 
 awakened the sympathies of the pastor, to whom the playful 
 persecution of Harrison had been any thing but grateful " my 
 name is " 
 
 But his tormentor interrupted him 
 
 "Is Jupiter Ammon, I know give yourself no manner of 
 trouble, I beg you." 
 
 " Master Harrison," said the pastor, gravely, " this is my guest, 
 and so are you, and as such, permit me to say that mutual respec-t 
 is due to my house and presence, if not to one another. The 
 name of this gentleman is Chorley, Master Richard Chorley, whose 
 parents I knew in England as well as himself." 
 
 " Ha ! Chorley you knew him in England Master Chorley, 
 your servant, Hercules no longer. You will be pleased to for 
 give my merriment, which is scarce worth your cloud and thunder- 
 storm. Chorley, did you say Chorley a good name- the name
 
 140 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 of a trader upon the Spanish Islands. Said I right?" infjuved the 
 speaker, who appeared to muse somewhat abstractedly ,>ver his 
 recent accession of intelligence, while addressing the seaman. The 
 latter sulkily assented. 
 
 " Your craft lies in the river, and you come for trade. You 
 have goods, Master Chorley fine stuffs for a lady's wear, a.id 
 jewels have you not jewels such as would not do discredit to a 
 neck, white and soft a glimpse, such as we sometimes have 
 through these blessed skies, of a pure, glorious heaven smiling and 
 wooing beyond them ? Have you no such befitting gauds no 
 highly wrought gem and ornament. in the shape of cross and 
 chain, which a sharp master of trade may have picked up, lying 
 at watch snugly among the little Islands of the gulf?" 
 
 "And if I have?" sullenly responded the seaman. 
 
 " I will buy, Hercules Master Chorley I should say I would 
 buy such a jewel a rich chain, or the cross which the Spaniard 
 worships. Wouldst thou wear such a chain of my giving, dear 
 i'ess Miss Matthews, I mean ? Thy neck needs no such ornament, 
 I know, no more than the altar needs the jewel ; yet the worshipper 
 finds a pleasure when he can place it there. Tell me, Miss 
 Matthews, will you wear such gift of my giving?" 
 
 Harrison was a person of the strangest frankness of manner. 
 The soliciting sweetness of his glance, as this was spoken, seemed 
 to relieve it of some of its audacity. He looked tenderly to her 
 eyes as he spoke, and the seaman, watching their mutual glance, 
 with a curiosity which became malignant, soon discovered their 
 secret, if so it may be called. Before his daughter could speak, 
 the old pastor sternly answered for her in the negative. His feel- 
 ings had grown more and more uncompromising and resentful at 
 very word of the previous dialogue. In his^eyes, the cool com- 
 posure of Harrison was the superb of audacity, particularly as, in 
 the previous interview, he thought he had said and done enough 
 to discourage the pretensions of any suitor, and one so utterly 
 unknown to him as the present. Not that there was not much 
 in all that he knew, of the person in question, to confound and 
 distract his judgment. In their intercourse, and in all known 
 intercourse, he had always proved brave, sensible, and generous
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 141 
 
 He bad taken the lead among the volunteers, a short time previous, 
 in defeating a superior Spanish force and driving them in disgrace 
 from a meditated attack on Port Royal Island and Edisto. Foi 
 this service he had received from the men he had then commanded, 
 an application for the permanent continuance of his authority an 
 application neither declined nor accepted. They knew him, how- 
 over, only as Gabriel Harrison, a man singularly compounded of 
 daring bravery, cool reflection, and good-humoured vivacity, and 
 knowing this, they cared for little more information. The farther 
 mystery knowing so much was criminal in the eyes of the pastor, 
 who had better reasons than the volunteers for desiring a greater 
 share of the stranger's confidence ; and though really, when he 
 could calmly reflect on the subject, uninfluenced by his prejudices 
 of Puritanism, pleased with the individual, a sense of what he con- 
 sidered his duty compelled him to frown upon pretensions so per- 
 fectly vague yet so confidently urged as those of his visitor. The 
 course of the dialogue just narrated contributed still more to dis- 
 approve Harrison in the old man's estimation. 
 
 ' My daughter wears no such idle vanities, Master Harrison," 
 said he, " and least of all should she be expected to receive them 
 from hands of which we know nothing." 
 
 " Oh, ho !" exclaimed Chorley aloud, now in his turn enjoying 
 himself at the expense of his adversary " Oh, ho sits the wind 
 in that quarter of your sail, young master ?" 
 
 " Well, Hercules, what do you laugh at ? I will buy your chain, 
 though the lady may or may not take it." 
 
 " You buy no chain of me, I think," replied the other " unless 
 you buy this, which I would have placed myself, as a free gift, 
 upon the neck of the young lady, before you came." 
 
 " You place it upon Bessy's neck, indeed ! Why, Bully-boy, what 
 put that extravagant notion into your head ?" exclaimed Harrison 
 scornfully, aloud. 
 
 " And why not, master ; why not, I pray you ?" inquired the sea 
 man, at the same time not seeking to suppress his pique. 
 
 " Why not indeed ! But it needs not to say it ! will you sell 
 your chain ?" 
 
 " Ay. that will I, but at .a price something beyond your mark. 
 What will you give now J"
 
 1.42 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Put like a trader Granger himself could not have said :.t with 
 
 more grace. I will give " at that moment a distinct blast of 
 
 the horn, reverberating through the hall, announced to Harrison 
 the success and approach of his party. Fixing his eye up~n the 
 person he addressed, and turning full upon him, he replied 
 
 " I have the price at hand a fitting price, and one that you 
 seem already to have counted on. What say you then to my black 
 fellow, Hector ? He is a fine servant, and as you have already stowi-d 
 him away safely in your hold, I suppose you will not hesitate to 
 ask for him three hundred pieces in the Cuba market something 
 more, I fancy, than the value of your chain." 
 
 The seaman was confounded taken all aback as well as the 
 pastor and his family, at this unlocked for charge. 
 
 " Where, Master Harrison, did you say ?" inquired Matthews. 
 " Where ? your fellow Hector ?" 
 
 " Ay, Hector, you know him well enough ! why stowed away 
 in the hold of this worthy fur and amber trader's vessel safe, locked 
 up, and ready for the Spaniard." 
 
 "It's a d d lie," exclaimed the ferocious seaman, recovering 
 
 from his momentary stupor. 
 
 " Bah, Hercules see you fool written in my face, that you sup- 
 pose oaths go further with me than words? You are young, my 
 Hercules, very young, to think so," then, as the accused person 
 proceeded to swear and swagger, Harrison turned to the ladies, 
 who had been silent and astonished auditors "Mrs. Matthews, 
 and you, Bess, take to your chambers, please you, for a while. 
 This business may be unpleasant, and not suited to your presence." 
 
 " But, Captain Harrison, my son," said the old lady, affection- 
 ately. 
 
 " Gabriel, dear Gabriel," murmured the young one. 
 
 " No violence, gentlemen, for heaven's sake, gentlemen," said 
 the host. 
 
 Harrison kissed his hands playfully to the mother and daughtei. 
 as, leading them to an inner door, he begged them to have uo 
 apprehension. 
 
 "Thers is no cause of fear be not alarmed. Hercules and 
 myself would only determine the value of Hector, without unne- 
 cessary witnesses. Go now, and fear nothing."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 148 
 
 Having dismissed the ladies, Harrison turned immediately to 
 Chorley, and putting his hand with the utmost deliberation upon 
 his shoulder, thus addressed him 
 
 " Hark ye, Hercules, you can't have Hector for nothing. The 
 fellow's in prime order not old, and still active besides he's the 
 most trustworthy slave I own, and loves me like a brother. It 
 goes against me to part with him, but if you are determined to 
 have him, you must give me an equivalent." 
 
 The seaman, with many oaths, denied having him. We forbeai 
 the brutal language which he used in his asseveration. But Har- 
 rison was cool and positive. 
 
 " Spare your breath, my brave fellow," said he contemptuously 
 as coolly, " I know you have him. Your swearing makes none of 
 your lies true, and you waste them on me. Give up Hector 
 then " 
 
 "And what if I say no?" fiercely replied the seaman. 
 
 " Then I keep Hercules !" was the response of Harrison. 
 
 " We shall see that," exclaimed the kidnapper and drawing his 
 cutlass, he approached the door of the cottage, in the way of which 
 Harrison stood calmly. As he approached, the latter drew forth 
 a pistol from his bosom, coolly cocked and presented it with one 
 hand, while with the other, raising his horn to his lips, he replied 
 to the previous signal. In another moment the door was thrown 
 open, and Granger, with two of the foresters, promptly appeared, 
 well armed, and, by their presence, destroying any thought of an 
 equal struggle, which might originally have entered the mind of 
 Chorley. The three new comers ranged themselves around the 
 apartment, so as to encircle the seaman. 
 
 " Captain Harrison," interposed the pastor, " this violence in my 
 house " 
 
 " I deeply regret, Mr. Matthews," was the reply, " but it is here 
 
 " It is taking the laws into your own hands, sir." 
 " I know it, sir, and will answer to the laws for taking Hector 
 from the unlawful hands of this kidnapper. Stand aside, sir, if 
 you please, while we secure our prisoner. Well, Hercules, are you 
 ready for terms now ?"
 
 144 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 Nothing daunted, Chorley roared out a defiance, and with a 
 fierce oath, lifting his cutlass, he resolutely endeavoured to 
 advance. But the extension of his arm for the employment of his 
 weapon, with his enemies so near, was of itself a disadvantage. 
 The sword had scarcely obtained a partial elevation, when the iroi. 
 fingers of Dick Grimstead fixed the uplifted arm as firmly as if the 
 vice of the worthy blacksmith had taken the grasp instead of bis 
 muscles. In another moment Choi-ley was tumbled upon his back, 
 and, spite of every effort at release, the huge frame of Grimstead 
 maintained him in that humiliating position. 
 
 "You see, Hercules, obstinacy won't serve you here. I must 
 have Hector, or I shall see the colour of every drop of blood in 
 your body. I swear it, of God's surety. Listen, then, here are 
 materials for writing. You are a commander you shall forward 
 despatches to your men for the delivery of my snow-ball. Hectoi 
 I must have." 
 
 " I will write nothing my men are in the boat ; they will soon 
 be upon you, and, by all the devils, I will mark you for this." 
 
 " Give up your hope, Bully-boy, and be less obdurate. I have 
 taken care to secure your men and boat, as fast and comfortably 
 as yourself. You shall see that I speak truth." Winding his horn 
 as he spoke, the rest of the foresters appeared under the conduct 
 of Nichols, who, strange to say, was now the most active conspi- 
 rator, seemingly, of the party ; they brought with them the two 
 seamen well secured by cords. Ushering his prisoners forward, 
 the worthy Constantino, seeing Harrison about to speak, hastily 
 interrupted him 
 
 " The great object of action, captain the great object of human 
 action Mr. Matthews, I am your servant the great object, Cap- 
 tain Harrison, of human action, as I have said before, is, or should 
 be, the pursuit of human happiness. The great aim of human 
 study is properly to determine upon the true nature of human ac- 
 tion. Human reason being the only mode, in the exercise of which 
 we can possibly arrive at the various courses which human action 
 is to take, it follows, in direct sequence, that the Supreme Arbiter, 
 in matters of moral, or I should rather say human propriety, is the 
 universal reason "
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 145 
 
 " Quod erat demonstrandum," gravely interrupted Harrison. 
 
 "Your approval is grateful, Captain Harrison very grateful, 
 sir but I beg that you will not interrupt me." 
 
 Harrison bowed, and the doctor proceeded : 
 
 " Referring to just principles, and the true standard, which, 
 Master Matthews, this may be of moment to you, and I beg your 
 particular attention I hold to be human reason, for the govern- 
 ment, the well-being of human society, I have determined being 
 thereto induced simply by a consideration of the good of the peo- 
 ple to lead them forth, for the captivity of these evil-minded men, 
 who, without the fear of God in their eyes, and instigated by the 
 devil, have feloniously kidnapped and entrapped and are about tc 
 carry away one of the lawful subjects of our king, whom God pre- 
 serve. I say subject, for though it does not appear that the black 
 has ever been employed as a colour distinguishing the subjects of 
 our master, the King of Great Britain, yet, as subject to his will, 
 and the control of his subjects, are more than all, as speaking in 
 the proper form of the English language, a little interpolated here 
 and there, it may be, with a foreign coating or accent which it 
 may be well to recognise as legitimately forming a feature of the 
 said language, which by all writers is held to be of a compound 
 substance, not unlike, morally speaking, the sort of rock, which the 
 geologists designate as pudding-stone pudding being a preparation 
 oddly and heavily compounded and to speak professionally, in- 
 digestibly compounded I say, then, and I call you, our pastor, 
 and you, Captain Harrison, and you, Richard Grimstead albeit 
 you are not of a craft or profession which I may venture to style 
 liberal you too may be a witness, and you will all of you here 
 assembled take upon you to witness for me, that, in leading forth 
 these brave m<-n to the assault upon and captivity of these nefari- 
 ous kidnapper, rescue or no rescue, at this moment my prison, rs, 
 that, from die first immutable principles which I have laid down, I 
 iould have been governed only by a patriotic desire for the good 
 >f the people. For, as it is plain that the man who kidnaps a sub- 
 ject has clearly none of those moral restraints which should keep 
 him from kidnapping subjects, and as it is equally clear that sub- 
 jects should not be liable to kidnapping, so does it follow, aa a 
 7
 
 146 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 direct sequence, that the duty of the good citizen is to prevent such 
 nefarious practices. I fear not now the investigation of the people, 
 for, having been governed in what I have done, simply by a regard 
 for their good and safety, I yield me to their judgment, satisfied of 
 justice, yet not shrinking, in th'eir cause, from the martyrdom which 
 they sometimes inflict." 
 
 The speaker paused, breathless, and looked round very compla 
 cently upon the assembly the persons of which his speech had 
 variously affected. Some- laughed, knowing the man ; but one or 
 two looked profound, and of these, at a future day, he had secured 
 the suffrages. Harrison suffered nothing of risibility to appeal 
 upon his features, composing the muscles of which, he turned to 
 the patriot, 
 
 " Gravely and conclusively argued, doctor, and with propriety, 
 for the responsibility was a weighty one, of this bold measure, 
 which your regard for popular freedom has persuaded you to 
 adopt. I did not myself think that so much could be said in 
 favour of the proceeding ; the benefits of which we shall now pro- 
 ceed to reap. And now, Hercules," he continued, addressing the 
 still prostrate seaman, " you see the case is hopeless, and there is 
 but one way of effecting your liberty. Write here are the ma- 
 terials ; command that Hectoi be restored, without stroke or stripe, 
 for of God's surety, every touch of the whip upon the back of my 
 slave shall call for a corresponding dozen upon your own. Your 
 seamen shall bear the despatch, and they shall return with the 
 negro. I shall place a watch, and if more than these leave the 
 vessel, it will be a signal which shall sound your death-warrant, for 
 that moment, of God's surety, shall you hang. Let him rise, 
 Grimstead, but keep his sword, and tomahawk him if he stir." 
 
 Chorley saw that he was in a strait, and in hands no ways scrupu- 
 lous. Satisfied that the case was hopeless on other terms, he 
 wrote as he was required. Sullenly affixing the signature, ho 
 handed it fiercely to Harrison, who coolly read over its contents. 
 
 " So your name is really not Hercules, after all," he spoke 
 with his usual careless manner u but Chorley ? " 
 
 " Is it enough ? " sullenly asked the seaman. 
 
 " Ay, Bully-boy, if your men obey it. I shall only take the
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 147 
 
 liberty of putting a small addition to the paper, apprising them of 
 (he prospect in reserve for yourself, if they steer awkwardly. A / 
 little hint to them," speaking as he wrote, " of new arms for theii t~ 
 captain swinging bough, rope pendant, and so forth." 
 
 In an hour and the men returned, bringing along with them the / /v^j ' 
 subject of contention, the now half frantic Hector. Chorley was 
 instantly released, with his two companions. He hurried away 
 with scarce a word to the pastor. Swearing vengeance as he 
 went, for the indignity he had undergone, and the disappointment, 
 he prepared to leave the dwelling in the humour to do mischief. 
 But unarmed as he was, and awed by the superior numbers of 
 Harrison, he was compelled, perforce, to keep his wrath in reserve ; 
 resolving upon a double reckoning for the delay, whenever the 
 opportunity should offer for revenge. Harrison goaded him with 
 words of new annoyance as he went 
 
 "Keep cool, Hercules ; this attempt to kidnap our slaves will 
 tell hardly against you when going round Port Royal Island. The 
 battery there may make your passage uncomfortable." 
 
 "You shall' suffer for this, young one, or my name's not " 
 
 " Hercules ! well, well see that you keep a close reckoning, for 
 I am not so sure that Richard Chorley is not as great a sea-shark 
 as Steed Bonnett himself." 
 
 The seaman started fiercely, as the speaker thus compared him 
 with one* of the most notorious pirates of the time and region, but 
 a sense of caution restrained from any more decided expression of 
 his anger. With a single word to the pastor, and a sullen 
 repetition of a general threat to the rest, he was soon in his boat 
 and upon the way to his vessel.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 w Have a keen eye awake sleep not, but hoM 
 A perilous watch to-night. There is an hour 
 Shall come, will try the stoutest of ye all." 
 
 " I SAY it again, Captain Harrison fortunate is it for mankind, 
 fortunate and thrice happy Mr. Matthews, you will be pleased ic 
 respond to the sentiment thrice fortunate, I say, is it for man- 
 kind Richard Grimstead, this idea is one highly important to 
 your class, and you will give it every attention thrice fortunate 
 for mankind that there are some spirits in the world, some noble 
 spirits, whom no fear, no danger, not even the dread of death, can 
 discourage or deter in their labours for the good of the people. 
 Who nobly array themselves against injustice, who lift up the 
 banners of truth, and, filled to overflowing with the love of their 
 kindred, who yield up nothing of man's right to exaction and 
 tyranny, but, shouting their defiance to the last, fear not to em- 
 brace the stake of martyrdom in the perpetuation of an immortal 
 principle. Yes, captain " 
 
 The audience began to scatter. 
 
 " What, will you not hear ? Mr. Matthews, venerable sir, 
 Master Grayson, Master Walter Grayson, I say and you, Richard 
 Grimstead will nobody hear ? thus it is, r the blind and insen- 
 sible mass ! they take the safety and the service, but forget the 
 benefactor. It is enough to make the patriot renounce his nature, 
 and leave them to their fate." 
 
 " You had better go now, doctor, and see poor Murray, instead 
 of standing here making speeches about nothing. Talk of the 
 good of the people, indeed, and leave the sick man without physic 
 till this time of day." 
 
 " You are right in that, Master Grayson, though scarcely re- 
 spectful. It concerns the popular welfare, certainly, that men
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 149 
 
 jshould not fall victims to disease ; but you must understand. 
 Master Grayson, that even to this broad and general principle, 
 there are some obvious exceptions. One may and must, now and 
 then, be sacrificed for the good of many though to confess a 
 truth, this can scarcely be an admitted principle, if such a sacrifice 
 may tend in any way to affect the paramount question of the 
 soul's immortal happiness or pain. I have strong doubts whether 
 a man should be hung at all. For. if it happen that he be a bad 
 man, to hang him is to precipitate him into that awful abiding 
 place, to which each successive generation may be supposed tc 
 have contributed in liberal proportion ; and if he should havo 
 seen the error of his ways, and repented, he ceases to be a bad 
 man, and should not be hung at all. But, poor Murray, as you 
 remind me, ought to be physicked these cursed fevers hang on a 
 man, as that sooty-lipped fellow Grimstead says, in a speech, un- 
 couth as himself, like ' death to a dead negro.' The only God to 
 be worshipped in this region, take my word for it, Master Grayson, 
 is that heathen God, Mercury. He is the true friend of the 
 people, and as such I worship him. Captain Harrison the man 
 is deaf. Ah, Mr. Matthews deaf, too ! Farewell, Master Gray- 
 son, or do you ride towards Gibbons' ? He turns a deaf ear also. 
 Human nature human nature ! I do hate to ride by myself." 
 
 And with these words, in obvious dissatisfaction for Doctoi 
 Constantine Maximilian Nichols was no longer listened to he lcf 
 the house and moved off to the wood where his little tacky stood 
 in waiting. By this time the foresters generally had also left the 
 old pastor's cottage. Giving them instructions to meet him at the 
 Block House, Harrison alone lingered behind with the old Puritan, 
 to whom the preceding events had somehow or other been pro. 
 ductive of much sore disquietude. He had shown his disappro- 
 batio'n at various stages of their occurrence ; and even now, when 
 the restoration of Hector, more than ever, showed the propriety, 
 or policy at least, of the course which had been pursued, the old 
 man seemed still to maintain a decided hostility to the steps which 
 Harrison had taken for the recovery of his property. Having 
 once determined against the individual .himself, the pastor was one 
 of those dogged and self-satisfied persons who can never bring
 
 150 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 themselves to the dismissal of a prejudice ; who never permi* 
 themselves to approve of any thing done by the obnoxious person, 
 and who studiously seek, in regard to him, every possible occasion 
 for discontent and censure. In such a mood he addressed Harri- 
 son when the rest had departed : 
 
 "This violence, Master Harrison," said he, "might do in a 
 condition of war and civil commotion ; but while there are laws 
 for the protection of the people and for the punishment of the 
 aggressor, the resort to measures like that which I have this day 
 witnessed, I hold to be highly indecorous and criminal." 
 
 " Mr. Matthews, you talk of laws, as if that pirate fellow could 
 be brought to justice by a sheriff." 
 
 " And why should he not, Master Harrison ?" 
 
 " My good sir, for the very best reason in the world, if you will 
 but open your eyes, and take off some few of the scales which you 
 seem to prefer to wear. Because, in that -vessel, carrying guns, 
 and men enough to serve them, he could safely bid defiance to all 
 thu sheriffs you could muster. Let the wind but serve, and he 
 could be off, carrying you along with him if he thought proper, 
 and at this moment nothing we could do could stop him. There 
 is no defending Port Royal, and that is its misfortune. You must 
 always call the force from Charleston which could do so, and at 
 this time there is not a single armed vessel in that port. No, sir 
 nothing but manoeuvring now for that fellow, and we must 
 manage still more adroitly before we get our own terms out of 
 him." 
 
 " Why, sir where's the battery at Port RqyaH" 
 
 u Pshaw, Mr. Matthews a mere fly in the face of the wind. 
 The battery at Port Royal, indeed, which the Spaniards have twice 
 already taken at noonday, and which they would have tumWec! 
 into ruins, but for Captain Godfrey and myself', as you should 
 remember for your own chance of escape, and that of your family, 
 was narrow enough. A good wind, sir, would carry this Flibustier 
 bej ond the fort before three guns could be brought to bear upon 
 her." 
 
 " Well, Master Harrison, evrn if this be the case, I should rather 
 the guilty should escape than that self-constituted judges should
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 151 
 
 lake into their own hands the administration of justice and the 
 law." 
 
 "Indeed, Reverend Sir, but you are too merciful by half; and 
 Hector, if he heard you now, would have few thanks for a charity, 
 which would pack him off to the Ouba plantations for the benefit 
 of that scoundrelly pirate. No, no. I shall always hold and 
 recover my property by the strong arm, when other means are 
 wanting." 
 
 " And pray, sir, what security have the people, that you, unknown 
 to them* as you are, may not employ the same arm to do them 
 injustice, while proposing justice for yourself?" 
 
 " That is what Nichols would call the popular argument, and 
 for which he would give you thanks, while using it against you. 
 But, in truth, this is the coil, and amounts to neither more nor less 
 than this, that all power is subject to abuse. I do not contend for 
 the regular practice of that which I only employ in a last necessity. 
 But, of this enough. I am in no mood for hair splitting and 
 arguing about trifling irregularities, when the chance is that there 
 are far more serious difficulties before us. There is a subject, Mr. 
 Matthews, much more important to yourself. You are here, 
 residing on the borders of a savage nation, with an interest scarcely 
 worth your consideration, and certainly no engrossing object. 
 Your purpose is the good of those around you, and with thart object 
 you suffer privations here, to which your family are not much 
 accustomed. I have an interest in your welfare, and " 
 
 The lips of the pastor curled contemptuously into a smile. 
 Harrison proceeded : 
 
 " I understand that expression, sir, upon your face ; and, con- 
 tenting myself with referring you for a commentary upon it to the 
 sacred profession of your pursuit, I freely forgive it." The pastor's 
 cheek grew red, while the other continued ; 
 
 " You are here, sir, as I have said, upon the Indian borders. 
 There is little real affinity between you. The entire white popula- 
 tion thus situated, and stretching for thirty miles towards the coast 
 in this direction, does not exceed nine hundred, men, women, and 
 children. You live remotely from each other there is but little 
 concert between you, and, bating an occasional musket, or sword.
 
 152 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 the hatchet and the knife are the only weapons which your house* 
 generally furnish. The Indians are fretful and becoming inso- 
 lent " 
 
 " Let me interrupt you, Master Harrison. I have no fears ! 
 This danger of Indian war is always the cry among those who have 
 popular objects. So far as my experience goes, the Yemassecs 
 were never more peaceable than at this moment." 
 
 " Pardon me, sir, if I say you know little of the Indians, anu 
 are quite too guileless yourself to comprehend the least portion 
 of their deceitful character. Are you aware, sir, of the<dnsurrec- 
 tion which took place in Pocota-ligo last night ? " 
 
 " Insurrection at Pocota-ligo ? what insurrection ? " 
 
 " The chiefs were deposed by the people, and by this time are 
 probably destroyed, for selling their lands yesterday to the com- 
 missioners." 
 
 " Ah ! I could have said the why and the wherefore, without your 
 speech. This but proves, Captain Harrison, that we may, if we 
 please, provoke them by our persecutions into insurrections. Why 
 do we thus seek to rob them of their lands ? When, O Father 
 of mercies, when shall there be but one flock of all classes and 
 colours, all tribes and nations, of thy people, and thy blessed Son, 
 our Saviour, the good and guiding shepherd thereof?" 
 
 " The prayer is a just one, and the blessing desirable ; but, 
 while I concur with your sentiment, I am not willing to agree 
 with you that our desire to procure their land is at all inconsistent 
 with the prayer. Until they shall adopt our pursuits, or we theirs, 
 we can never form the one community for which your grayer is 
 sent up ; and so long as the hunting lands are abundant, the 
 seductions of that mode of life will always baffle the approach of 
 civilization among the Indians. But this is not the matter between 
 us now.* Your smile of contempt, just now, when I spoke of my 
 regard for your family, does not discourage me from repeating the 
 profession. I esteem your family, and a yet stronger sentiment 
 attaches me to one of its members. Feeling thus towards you and 
 it, and convinced, as I am, that there is danger at hand from the 
 Indians, I entreat that you will remove at once into a close neigh- 
 bourhood with our people. Go to Port Royal, where the mean*
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 152 
 
 of escape to Charleston are easy ; or, why not go to Charleston 
 itself?" 
 
 "And see your family," coolly sneered the pastor. 
 
 " It will be yours before long, and you will probably then know 
 all the members thereof. I trust they will be such as neither of 
 us will be ashamed of," was the quiet reply. " But let not your 
 displeasure at my pretensions, or my lack of family, make you 
 indifferent to the safety of your own. I tell you, sir, there is a 
 near and great danger to be apprehended from the Indians." 
 
 " I apprehend none, Captain Harrison. The Indians have 
 always borne themselves peaceably towards me and towards all 
 the settlers towards all who have carried them the words of peace. 
 To me they have always shown kindness and a respect amounting 
 almost to reverence. They have listened patiently to my teachings, 
 and the eyes of some them, under the blessed influence of the 
 Saviour, have been opened to the light." 
 
 " Be not deceived, Mr. Matthews. The Indian upon whom yon 
 would most rely, would be the very first to strip your scalp as a 
 choice trimming for his mocasin. Be advised, sir I know more 
 of this people than yourself. I know what they are when excited 
 and aroused ; deception with them is the legitimate moralitv 
 of a true warrior. Nor will they, when once at war, discriminate 
 between the good neighbour, like yourself, and the wild borderer 
 who encroaches upon their hunting grounds and carries off their 
 spoil." 
 
 "I fear not, sir I know all the chiefs, and feel just as secure 
 here, guarded by the watchful Providence, as I possibly could do 
 in the crowded city, fenced in by mightiest walls." 
 
 " This confidence is rashness, sir, since it rejects a precaution 
 which can do no harm, and offers but little inconvenience. Where 
 is the necessity for your remaining here, where there is so little to 
 attract, and so few ties to bind ? Leave the spot, sir, at least until 
 the storm is over-blown which I now see impending." 
 
 " You are prophetic, Master Harrison, but as I see no storm 
 impending, you will suffer me to remain. You seem also to forget 
 that, in remaining in this region, which you say has few ties for 
 Die and mine, I am complying with a solemn duty, undertaken in 
 
 7*
 
 154 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 cool deliberation, and which I would not, if I could, avoid. I am 
 here, as you know, the agent of a noble Christian charity of 
 England, as a missionary to the heathen." 
 
 " Be it so ; but there is nothing inconsistent with your duty in 
 leaving the spot for a season. Here, in the event of a war, you 
 could pursue no such mission. Leave it, if for a season only." 
 
 " Master Harrison, once for all, permit me to choose for myself, 
 not only where to live, but who shall be my adviser and com- 
 panion. I owe you thanks for your professed interest in me and 
 mine ; but it seems to me there is but little delicacy in thus giving 
 us your presence, when my thoughts on the subject of my daughter 
 and your claim have been so clearly expressed. The violence of 
 your course to-day, sir, let me add, is enough to strengthen my 
 previous determination on that subject." 
 
 "Your determination, Mr. Matthews, seems fixed, indeed, to be 
 wrong-headed and obstinate. You have dwelt greatly upon my 
 violence to this sea-bear; and yet, or I greatly mistake my man, 
 you will come to wish it had been greater. But, ask your own 
 good sense whether that violence exceeded in degree the amount 
 necessary to secure the restoration of my slave ? I did only what 
 I thought essential to that end, though something provoked to 
 more. But this aside. If you will not hear counsel, and deter- 
 mine to remain in this place, at least let me implore you to observe 
 every precaution, and be ready to resort to the Block House with 
 the first alarm. Be ready in your defence, and keep a careful 
 watch. Let your nightbolts be well shot. I too, sir, will be 
 something watchful for you. I cannot think of letting you sacri- 
 fice, by your ill-judged obstinacy, one, dear enough to me, at least, 
 to make me bear with the discourtesies which come with such an 
 ill grace from her sire." 
 
 Thus speaking, Harrison left the cottage abruptly, leaving the 
 old gentleman standing, angry enough still, but still somewhat 
 dissatisfied with his own conduct, in the middle of the floor.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 " Thou kill'st me with a word when thou dost ay 
 She loves him. Better thou hadst slain me first ; 
 Thou hadst not half so wrong'd me then as now." 
 
 HECTOR met his master at the door of the cottage with tidings 
 from the daughter which somewhat compensated for the harsh 
 treatment of the father. She had consented to their meeting that 
 afternoon in the old grove of oaks, well-known even to this day 
 in that neighbourhood, for its depth and beauty of shadow, and 
 its sweet fitness for all the purposes of love. Somewhat more 
 satisfied, therefore, he took his way to the Block House, where the 
 foresters awaited him. 
 
 They met in consultation, and the duties before Harrison were 
 manifold. He told the party around him all that it was necessary 
 they should know, in order to ensure proper precautions ; and, 
 having persuaded them of the necessity of this labour, he found 
 no difficulty in -procuring their aid in putting the Block House 
 in better trim for the reception of the enemy. To do this, they 
 went over the fabric together. The pickets forming an area or 
 yard on two of its sides, having been made of the resinous pine 
 of the country, were generally in good preservation. The gate 
 securing the entrance was gone, however, and called for immediate 
 attention. The door of the Block House itself for it had but 
 one had also been taken away, and the necessity was equally 
 great of its restoration. The lower story of the fortress consisted 
 of but a single apartment, in which no repairs were needed. The 
 Upper story was divided into rooms, and reached by a ladder a 
 single ladder serving the several divisions, and transferable to each 
 place of access when the ascent was desirable. One of these 
 apartments, built more securely than the other, and pierced with a 
 single small window, had been meant as the retreat of the womer
 
 156 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 and children, and was cow in the possession of Granger, the trader, 
 and his wife. His small stock in trade, his furs, blankets, knives, 
 beads, hatchets, etc., were strewn confusedly over the clapboard 
 floor. These were the articles most wanted by the Indians. Fire- 
 arms it had been the policy of the English to keep from them as 
 much as possible. Still, the intercourse between them had been 
 such that this policy was not always adhered to. Many of theii 
 principal persons had contrived to procure them, either from th.- 
 English tradesmen themselves, or from the Spaniards of St. Angus 
 tine, with whom of late the Yemassees had grown exceedingly 
 intimate; and though, from their infrequent use, not perfect 
 masters of the weapon, they were still sufficiently familiar with it 
 to increase the odds already in their favour on the score of num- 
 bers. Apart from this, the musket is but little, if any tliin-, 
 superior to the bow and arrow in the American forests. It in- 
 spires with more terror, and is therefore more useful ; but it is no! 
 a whit more fatal. Once discharged, the musket is of little aval!. 
 The Indian then rushes forward, and the bayonet becomes inno- 
 cuous, for the striking and sure distance for the tomahawk in his 
 hands is beyond the reach of its thrust. The tomahawk, with 
 little practice, in any hand, can inflict a severe if not a fatal wound 
 at twelve paces, and beyond the ordinary pistol certainty of that 
 period. As long as his quiver lasts containing twelve to twenty 
 arrows the bow in the close woods is superior to the musket in 
 the grasp of the Indian, requiring only the little time necessary 
 after the discharge of one, in fixing another arrow upon the elastic 
 sinew. The musket too, in the hands of the Englishman, and ac- 
 cording to his practice, is a sightless weapon. He fires in line, and 
 without aim. The Anglo-American, therefore, has generally 
 adopted the rifle. The eye of the Indian regulates every shaft 
 from his bow with a rapidity given him by repeated and hourly 
 practice from his childhood, and he learns to take the same aim 
 at his enemy which he would take at the smallest bird among his 
 forests. But to return. 
 
 Harrison, with Grimstead, the smith, Grayson, Granger, and the 
 rest, looked carefully to all the defences of the fortress. He 
 employed them generally in the repairs considered necessary, nor
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 157 
 
 withheld his own efforts in restoring the broken timber or tho 
 maimed shutter. The tools of the carpenter were as familiar as 
 the weapon of warfare, to the hand of the American woodsman, 
 and the aid of the smith soon put things in train for a stout defence 
 of the fabric, in the event of any necessity. This having been 
 done, the whole party assembled in Granger's apartment to partake 
 of the frugal meal which the hands of the trader's wife had pre- 
 pared for them. We have seen the bold step taken by this woman 
 in delivering up to the Yeniassees the treaty which conveyed their 
 lands to the Carolinians, by which, though she had risked the 
 displeasure of Sir Edmund Bellinger, whom the point of honour 
 would have rendered obstinate, she had certain.y saved the lives 
 of the party. She was a tall, masculine, and well-made woman j 
 of a sanguine complexion, with deeply sunken, dark eyes, hair 
 black as a coal and cut short like that of a man. Theie was a 
 stern something in her glance which repelled ; and thougu gentle 
 and even humble in her usual speech, there were moments when 
 her tone was that of reckless defiance, and when her manner was 
 any thing but conciliatory. Her look was always grave, even 
 sombre, and no one saw her smile. She thus preserved her own 
 and commanded the respect of others, in a sphere of life to which 
 respect, or in very moderate degree, is not often conceded ; and 
 though now she did not sit at the board upon which the humble 
 ni.-al had been placed, her presence restrained the idle remark 
 which the wild life of most of those assembled around it, would be 
 well apt to instigate and occasion. At dinner, Hector was examined 
 as to his detention on board of the schooner. He told the story 
 of his capture as already given, and, though the poor fellow had 
 in reality heard nothing, or very little, of the conversation between 
 the sailor and the Indians, yet the clear narrative which he gave, 
 descriptive of the free intercourse between the parties, and the 
 presence of the belt of wampum, were proofs strong as holy writ ; 
 conclusive, certainly, to the mind of Harrison, of the suspicion 
 he already entertained. 
 
 " And what of the schooner what did you see there, Hector r 
 " Gun, maussa ! big gun, little gun long sword, little sword, 
 and hatchets plenty for Injins."
 
 158 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " What sort of men ?" 
 
 " Ebeiy sort, maussa ; English, Dutch, French Spanish, ugly 
 little men wid big whisker, and long black hair, and face nebbei 
 see water." 
 
 This was information enough ; and, after some further delibera- 
 tions, the parties separated, each in the performance of some duty 
 which, by previous arrangement, had been assigned him. An hour 
 after the separation, and Walter Grayson arrived at the landing 
 upon the river, a few hundred yards irom the cottage where he 
 lived, in time to see his brother, who was just about to put otf 
 with several bundles of skins in a small boat towards the vessel of 
 the supposed Indian trader. The manner of the latter was cold, 
 and his tone rather stern and ungracious. 
 
 " I have waited for you some hours, "Walter Grayson," said he, 
 standing upon the banks, and throwing a bundle into the bottom 
 of the boat. 
 
 " I could come no sooner, Hugh ; I have been busy in assisting- 
 the captain." 
 
 " The captain will you never be a freeman, Walter will you 
 always be a water-carrier for a master ? Why do you seek and 
 serve this swaggerer, as if you had lost every jot of manly inde- 
 pendence ?" 
 
 " Not so sharp, Hugh, and, my very good younger brother 
 not so fast. I have not served him, more than I have served you 
 and all of us, by what I have done this morning." 
 
 He then went on to tell his brother of the occurrences of the 
 day. The other seemed much astonished, and there was something 
 of chagrin manifest in his astonishment so much so indeed, that 
 Walter could not help asking him if he regretted that Harrison 
 should get his slave again. 
 
 " No not so, brother, but the truth is, I was about to take my 
 skins to this same trader for sale and barter, and my purpose is 
 something staggered by your intelligence." 
 
 " Well, I don't know but it should stagger you ; and I certainly 
 shouldn't advise you to proceed on such a business ; for the man 
 who comes to smuggle and kidnap will scarcely heed smaller 
 matters of trade."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 159 
 
 " I must go, however, and try him. I want every thing, even 
 powder and lead." 
 
 " Well, that's a good want with you, Hugh, for if you had none, 
 you'd be better willing to work at home." 
 
 " I will not go into the field," said the other, haughtily and 
 impatiently. "It will do for you, to take the mule's labour, who 
 are so willing to be at the beck and call of every swaggering 
 upstart; but I will not. No! Let me rather go with the Indians, 
 and take up with them, and dress in their skins, and disfigure 
 myself with their savage paint ; but I will neither dig nor he\* 
 when I can do otherwise." 
 
 " Ay, when you can do otherwise, Hugh Grayson I am willing. 
 But do not deceive yourself, young brother of mine. I know, if 
 you do not, why the labours of the field, which I must go through 
 with, are your dislike. I know why you will rather drive the woods, 
 day after day, in the Indian fashion, along with Chiparee or 
 Occonestoga and with no better company, for, now and then, a 
 poor buck or doe, in preference to more regular employment and 
 a more certain subsistence." 
 
 " And why is it then, Walter ? let me have the benefit of your 
 knowledge." 
 
 " Ay, I know, and so do you, Hugh ; and shame, I say, on the 
 false pride which regards the toil of your own father, and the 
 labours of your own brother, as degrading. Ay, you blush, and 
 well you may, Hugh Grayson. It is the truth a truth I have 
 never spoken in your ears .before, and should not have spoken now, 
 but for the freedom and frequency with which you, my younger 
 brother, and for whom I have toiled when he could not toil fur 
 himself, presume to speak of my conduct as slavish. Now, 
 examine your own, and know that as I am independent, I am not 
 slavish ; you can tell for yourself whether you owe as little to me, 
 as I to you and to all other persons. When you have answered this 
 question, Hugh, you can find a better application than you have 
 yet made of that same word ' slave.' " 
 
 The cheek of the hearer grew pale and crimson, alternately, at 
 the reproach of the speaker, whose eye watched him with not a 
 little of that sternness of glance, which heretofore had filled hia
 
 160 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 own. At one moment the collected fury of his lock seemed to 
 threaten violence, but, as if consideration came opportunely, hj 
 turned aside, and after a few moments' pause, replied in a thick, 
 broken tone of voice : 
 
 " You have said well, my elder brother and my better. Your 
 reproach is just I am a dependant a beggar one who should 
 acknowledge, if he has not craved for, charity. I say it and I 
 feel it, and the sooner I requite the obligation the better. I will 
 go to this trader, and sell my skins if I can, kidnapper or pirate 
 though he be. I will go to him, and beg him to buy, which I 
 might not have done but for your speech. You have said harshly, 
 Walter Grayson, very harshly, but truly, and I thank you, I 
 thank you, believe me I thank you for the lesson." 
 
 As he moved away, the elder brother turned quick upon him, 
 and with an ebullition of feeling which did not impair his manli- 
 ness, he grappled his hand 
 
 "Hugh, boy, I was harsh and foolish, but you drove me to it, 
 I love you, brother love you as if you were my own son, and do 
 not repent me of any thing I have done for you ; which, were it 
 to be done over again, I should rejoice to do. But when you 
 speak in such harsh language of men whom you know I love, you 
 provoke me, particularly when I see and know that you do them 
 injustice. Now, Captain Harrison, let me tell you ' 
 
 " I would not hear, Walter nothing, I pray you, of that 
 man !" 
 
 " And why not ? Ah, Hughey, put down this bad spirit this 
 impatient spirit, which will not let you sleep ; for even in your 
 sleep it speaks out, and I have heard it." 
 
 " Ha !" and the other started, and laid his hand on the arm of 
 his brother " thou hast heard what ?" 
 
 " What I will not say not even to you ! but enough, Hugh, 
 to satisfy me, that your dislike to Harrison springs from an un- 
 becoming feeling." 
 
 " Name it." 
 
 "Jealousy! I have already hinted as much, and now I tell 
 you that your love for Bess Matthews, and her love for him, are 
 ths cause of your hate to Harrison."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 161 
 
 " You think she loves him ?" was the broken and huskily 
 uttered inquiry. 
 
 '' I do, Hugh honestly I believe it." 
 
 And us the elder brother replied, the other dashed down his 
 hand, which, on putting the question, he had taken, and rushed 
 off, with a feeling of desperation, in the direction of the boat. In 
 a moment, seated centrally within it, he had left the banks ; and 
 a little flap oar was plied from hand to hand with a rapidity and 
 vigour more than half derived from the violent boiling of the 
 feverish blood within his veins. With a gaze of sad sympathy 
 and of genuine feeling, Walter Grayson surveyed his progress for 
 a while, then turned away to the cottage and to other occupations. 
 
 In a little while, the younger brother, with his small cargo, 
 approached the vessel, and was instantly hailed by a gruff voice 
 from within. 
 
 " Throw me a rope," was the cry of Grayson. 
 
 " For what what the devil should make us throw you a rope ? 
 who are you what do you want ?" was the reply. The speaker 
 who was no other than our old acquaintance, Chorley, showed 
 himself at the same moment, and looked out upon the visitor. 
 
 " You buy furs and skins, captain I have both, and here is a 
 bag of amber, fresh gathered, and the drops are large.* I want 
 powder for them, and shot and some knives and hatchets." 
 
 " You get none from me, blast me." 
 
 " What, wherefore are you here, if not for trade ?" was the 
 involuntary question of Grayson. The seaman, still desirous of 
 preserving appearances as much as possible, found it necessary to 
 control his mood, which the circumstances of the morning were 
 not altogether calculated to soften greatly. He replied therefore 
 evasively. 
 
 * Amber, in .Carolina, wao supposed to exist in such quantities, at an 
 early period in its history, that among the laws and constitution made by 
 the celebrated John Locke for the Province, we tind one, regulating ita 
 distribution among the eight lords proprietors. At present we have no 
 evidence of its fruit-fulness in that quarter, and the probability is, that in 
 the sanguine spirit of the time, the notion was entertained from the few 
 specimens >ccasion:illy found and \vo:n l>y the Indians.
 
 162 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 "Ay, to be sure I come for trade, but can't you wait t : ll 1 
 haul up to the landing? I am afraid there's not water enough 
 for me to do so now, for the stream shoals here, as I can tell by 
 my soundings, too greatly for the risk ; but to-morrow come to- 
 morrow, and I'll trade with you for such things as you want." 
 
 "And whether you hau.to the landing or not, why not trade 
 on board to-day ? Let me bring my skins up ; throw me a rope 
 and we shall soon trade. I want but few things, and they will 
 require no long search ; you can easily say if you have them." 
 
 But this was pressing the point too far upon Chorley's good- 
 nature. The seaman swore indignantly at the pertinacity of his 
 visitor, and pouring forth a broadside of oaths, bade him tack 
 ship and trouble him no longer. 
 
 " Be off now, freshwater, and wait my time for trading. If you 
 bother me before I'm ready, I'll send you more lead than you're 
 able to pay for, and put it where you'll never look for it. Put 
 about, in a jiffy, or you'll never catch stays again. Off, I sav, or 
 I'll send a shot through your figure-head that shall spoil your 
 beauty for ever." 
 
 Grayson was naturally surprised at this treatment, and his tierce 
 spirit felt very much like a leap at the throat of the ruffian cap- 
 tain. But prudence taught him forbearance, in act at least. He 
 was not sparing of his words, which were as haughty and insolent 
 as he could make them. But Chorley could beat him -easily at 
 such weapons, and the young man was soon content to give up 
 the contest. Sternly and sadly, and with the utmost deliberation, 
 paddling himself round with a disappointed heart, he made once 
 more for the cottage landing.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The hunters are upon thee keep thy pace, 
 Nor falter, lest the arrow strike thy back, 
 And the foe trample on thy prostrate form " 
 
 IT was about noon of the same day, when the son of Sanutee, 
 the outcast and exiled Occonestoga, escaping from his father's 
 assault and flying from the place of council as already narrated, 
 appeared on the banks of the river nearly opposite the denser settle- 
 ment of the whites, and several miles below Pocota-ligo. But the 
 avenger had followed hard upon his footsteps, and the fugitive had 
 suffered terribly in his flight. His whole appearance was that of 
 the extremest wretchedness. His dress was torn by the thorns of 
 many a thicket in which he had been compelled to crawl for shelter. 
 His skin was lacerated, and the brakes and creeks through which 
 he had been compelled to plough and plunge, had left the tribute 
 of their mud and mire on every inch of his person. Nor had the 
 trials of his mind been less. Previous drunkenness, the want of 
 food, and extreme fatigue (for, circuitously doubling from his pur- 
 suers, he had run nearly the whole night, scarcely able to rest foi 
 a moment), contributed duly to the miserable figure which he made. 
 His eyes were swollen, his cheeks sunken, and there was a wo- 
 begone feebleness and utter desolateness about his whole appear- 
 ant.'t\ He had been completely sobered by the hunt made after 
 him ; and the instinct of life, for he knew nothing of the peculiar 
 nature of the doom in reserve for him, had effectually called all his 
 faculties into exercise. 
 
 When hurried from the council-house by Sir Edmund Bellinger, 
 to save him from the anger of his father, he had taken the way, 
 under a filial and natural influence, to the lodge of Matiwan. And 
 she cheered and would have cherished him, could that have been 
 done consistently with her duty to her lord. What she could do, 
 however, she did ; and, though deeply sorrowing over his proa:
 
 164 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 tituted manhood, she could not, at the same time, forget that he 
 was her son. But in her cabin he was nut permitted to linger 
 long. Watchful for the return of Sanutee, Matiwan was soon 
 apprised of the approach of the pursuers. The people, collected 
 to avenge themselves upon the chiefs, were not likely to suffer the 
 escape of one, who, like Occonestoga, had done so much to subject 
 them, as they thought, to the dominion of the English. A party 
 of them, accordingly, hearing of his flight, and readily conceiving 
 its direction, took the same route ; and, but for the mother's 
 watchfulness, he had then shared the doom of the other chiefs. 
 But she heard their coming and sent him on his way; not so soon, 
 however, as to make his start in advance of them a matter of very 
 great importance to his flight. They were close upon his heels, 
 and when he cowered silently in the brake, they took their way 
 directly beside him. When he lay stretched along, under the 
 cover of the fallen tree, they stepped over his body, and when, 
 seeking a beaten path in his tortuous course, he dared to look 
 around him, the waving pine torches which they carried flamed 
 before his eyes. 
 
 " I will burn feathers, thou shalt have arrows, Opitchi-Manneyto. 
 Be not wrath with the young chief of Yemassee. Make the eyes 
 blind that hunt after him for blood. Thou shalt have arrows and 
 feathers, Opitchi-Manneyto a bright fire of arrows and feathers !" 
 
 Thus, as he lay beneath the branches of a fallen tree, around 
 which his pursuers were winding, the young warrior uttered the 
 common form of deprecation and prayer to the evil deity of 
 his people, in the language of the nation. But he did not 
 despair, though he prayed. Though now frequently drunk and 
 extremely dissolute, Occonestoga had been a gallant and very 
 skilful partisan even in the estimation of the Indians. He had 
 been one of the most promising of all their youth, when first 
 made a chief, after a great battle with the Savannahs, against 
 whom he distinguished himself. This exceeding promise at 
 the outset of his career, rendered the mortification of his sub- 
 sequent fall more exquisitely painful to Sanutee, who was n 
 proud and ambitious man. Nor was Occonestoga himself utterly 
 insensible to his degradation. When sober, his humiliation and
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 165 
 
 k 
 
 fchame were scarcely less poignant than that of his father; but 
 unhappily, the seduction of strong drink he had never been ablt 
 to withstand. He was easily persuaded, and as easily overcome. 
 He had thus gone on for some time ; and, seeking the fiery 
 poison only, he was almost in daily communication with the lower 
 classes of the white settlers, from whom alone liquor could be 
 obtained. For this vile reward he had condescended to the per- 
 formance of various services for these people offices which were 
 held to be degrading by his own ; and so much had he been dis- 
 credited among the latter, that buWor his father's great influence, 
 which necessarily restrained the popular feeling on the subject of 
 the son's conduct, he had long since been thrust from any consi- 
 deration or authority among them. Originally he had been highly 
 popular. His courage had been greatly admired, and admirably 
 consorted with the strength and beauty of his person. Even now, 
 bloated and blasted as he was, there was something highly pre- 
 po>s<-ssing in his general appearance. He was tall and graceful, 
 broad and full across the breast, and straight as an arrow. But the 
 soul was debased within him ; and there were moments when he 
 t'elt all his wretched humiliations moments when he felt how 
 much better it would be to strike the knife to his own heart, and 
 lose the deadly and degrading consciousness which made him 
 ashamed to meet the gaze of his people. Even now, as he emerges 
 from the morass, naving thrown off his pursuers, the criminal pur- 
 pt-'sc besets him. You see it in his face, his eye you see it in the 
 swift, hurried clutch of the knife, and the glance upward and around 
 him. But such thoughts and purposes usually linger for a moment 
 only. Baffled then, they depart as suddenly as they come. Occo- 
 iiestoga threw off his desperate purpose, as he had thrown off his 
 pursuers. Once more he went, pressing rapidly forward, while the 
 hunters were baffled in rounding a dense brake through which he had 
 dared to go. He was beyond them, but they were between him and 
 the river ; and his course was bent for the settlements of the whites 
 the only course in which he hoped for safety. Day came, and he 
 thought himself safe; but he was roused by the hunting cries of 
 new pursuers. He almost despairs. His flight had taken him com- 
 pletely out of his contemi>lated route. To recover aul regain it i
 
 166 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 now his object. Boldly striking across the path of his hunters, Occo- 
 nestoga darted along the bed of a branch which ran parallel with 
 the course he aimed to take. He lay still as the enemy approached 
 he heard their retreating footsteps, and again he set forward. 
 But the ear and sense of the Indian are as keen as his own arrow, 
 and the pursuers were not long misled. They retrieved their error, 
 and turned with the fugitive ; but the instinct of preservation wa. 
 still active, and momentary success gave him a new stimulant to 
 exertion. At length, when almost despairing and exhausted, his 
 eyes beheld, and his feet gained, the bank of the river, still ahead 
 of his enemy ; and grateful, but exhausted, he lay for a few 
 moments stretched upon the sands, and gazing upon the quiet 
 waters before him. 
 
 He was not long suffered to remain in peace. A shout arrested 
 his attention, and he started to his feet to behold two of his pur- 
 suers emerging at a little distance from the forest. This spectacle 
 completed his misery. Exhaustion had utterly subdued his soul. 
 He felt, once more, that death would be far preferable to the de- 
 graded and outcast life which he led doomed and pursued for ever 
 by his own people and rising to his feet, in the moment of his 
 despair, he threw open the folds of his hunting shirt, and placing 
 his hand upon his breast, cried out to them to shoot. But the 
 bow was unlifted, .the arrow undrawn, and to his surprise the men 
 who had pursued him as he thought for his blood, now refused 
 what they had desired. They increased their efforts to take, but 
 not to destroy him. The circumstance surprised him ; and with 
 A renewal of his thought came a renewed disposition to escape. 
 Without further word, and with the instantaneous action of his 
 reason, he plunged forward into the river, and diving down like 
 an otter, reserved his breath until, arising, he lay in the very centre 
 of the stream. But he arose enfeebled and overcome the feeling 
 of despair grew with his weakness, and turning a look of defiance 
 upon the two Indians who still stood in doubt, watching his 
 progress from the banks which they had now gained, he raised 
 himself breast high from the water, and once more challenged 
 their arrows to his breast, by smiting it with a fierce violence, the 
 action of equal defiance and despair. As they saw the action, one
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 167 
 
 of them, as if in compliance with the demand, lifted his bow ; 
 but the other the next instant struck it down. Half amazed and 
 wondering at what he saw, and now almost overcome by his 
 effort, the sinking Occonestoga gave a single shout of derision, 
 and ceased all further effort. The waters bore him down. Onca 
 and once only, his hand was struck out as if in the act of swim- 
 ming, while his head was buried ; and then the river closed over 
 him. The brave but desponding warrior sunk hopelessly, just as 
 the little skiff of Hugh Grayson, returning from his interview 
 with Chorley, which we have already narrated, darted over th 
 small circle in the stream which still bubbled and broke where the 
 young Indian had gone down. The whole scene had been wit- 
 nessed by him, and he had urged every sinew in the effort to 
 reach the youth in season. His voice, as he called aloud to O<v 
 conestoga, whom he well knew, had been unheard by the drowning 
 and despairing man. But still he came in time, for, as his iitu* 
 boat darted over the spot where the red-man had been seen ^ 
 sink, the long black hair suddenly grew visible again above tnc 
 water, and in the next moment was firmly clutched in the grasr 
 of th Carolinian. With difficulty he sustained the head above 
 the surface, still holding on by the hair. The banks were not 
 distant, and the little paddle which he employed was susceptible 
 of use by one hand. Though thus encumbered, he was soon 
 enabled to get within his depth. This done, he jumped from the 
 boat, and by very great effort bore the unconscious victim to the 
 land. A shout from the Indians on the opposite bank, attested 
 their own interest in the result ; but they did not wait for the 
 result, disappearing in the forest just at the moment when re- 
 turning consciousness, on the part of Occonestoga, had rewarded 
 Grayson for the efforts he had made and still continued making 
 for his recovery. 
 
 " Thou art safe now, Occonestoga," said the young man ; "but 
 thou hast swallowed more water of the river than well befits 
 an empty stomach. How dost thou feel ?" 
 
 " Feathers and arrows for thee, Opitchi-Manneyto," muttered the 
 savage, in his own language, his mind recurring to the previous 
 pursuit. The youth, continued his services without^ pressing him
 
 168 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 for answers, and his exhaustion had been so great that ha 
 could do ntue it any thing for himself. Unlashing his bow and 
 quiver, whicn had been tied securely to his back, and unloosing 
 the belt aooui his body, Grayson still further contributed to his 
 relief. Ac ,ength he grew conscious, and. sufficiently restored to 
 converse freely with his preserver ; and though still gloomy and 
 depressed, returned him thanks, in his own way, for the timely 
 succour which had saved him. 
 
 " Thou wilt sro with me to my cabin, Occonestoga ?" 
 " No ! Orconestoga is a dog. The black woods for Occonestoga. 
 He must seek arrows and feathers for Opitchi-Manneyto who came 
 to him in the swamp." 
 
 The youth pressed him urgently and kindly ; but finding him 
 obdurate, and knowing well the inflexible character of the Indian, 
 he arave uv me nope of persuading him to his habitation. They 
 separated at length after the delay of an hour, Grayson again in 
 his canoe, and. Occonestoga plunging into the woods in the direc- 
 tion of the Block House.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 * Thus nature, with an attribute most strange, 
 Clothes even the reptile, working in our thought*, 
 Until they weave themselves into a spell, 
 That wins us to it." 
 
 THE afternoon of that day was one of those clear, sweet, balmy 
 afternoons, such as make of the spring season in the south, a holi- 
 day term of nature. All was animated life and freshness. The 
 month of April, in that region, is, indeed, 
 
 "the time, 
 
 When the merry birds do chime 
 Airy wood-notes wild and free, 
 In secluded bower and tree, 
 Season of fantastic change, 
 Sweet, familiar, wild, and strange 
 Time of promise, when the leaf 
 Has a tear of pleasant grief, 
 When the winds, by nature coy, 
 Do both cold and heat alloy, - 
 Nor to either will dispense 
 Their delighting preference." 
 
 The day had been gratefully warm ; and, promising an early 
 summer, there was a prolific show of foliage throughout the forest. 
 The twittering of a thousand various birds, and the occasional 
 warble of that Puck of the American forests, the mocker the 
 Ooonelatee, or Trick-tongue of the Yemassees together with the 
 gleesome murmur of zephyr and brook, gave to the scene an aspect 
 of wooing and seductive repose, that could not fail to win the sense 
 into a most happy unconsciousness. The old oaken grove which 
 Bess Matthews, in compliance with the prayer of her lover, now 
 approached, was delightfully conceived for such an occasion. All 
 things within it seemed to breathe of love. The murmur of the 
 brooklet, the song of the bird, the hum of the zephyr in the tree- 
 8
 
 170 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 top, had each a corresponding burden. The Providence suiely 
 lias its purpose in associating only with the woods those gentle 
 and beautiful influences which are without use or object to the 
 obtuse sense, and can only be felt and valued by a spirit of corre- 
 sponding gentleness and beauty. The scene itself, to the eye, was 
 of character to correspond harmoniously with the song of birds 
 and the playful sport of zephyrs. The rich green of the leaves 
 the deep crimson of the wild flower the gemmed and floral-knotted 
 long grass that carpeted the path the deep, solemn shadows of 
 evening, and the trees through which the now declining sun was 
 enabled only here and there to sprinkle a few drops from his 
 golden censer all gave power to that spell of quiet, which, by 
 divesting the mind of its associations of every-day and busy life, 
 throws it back upon its early and unsophisticated nature restor- 
 ing that time, in the elder and better condition of humanity, 
 when, unchanged by conventional influences, the whole business 
 of life seems to have been the worship of high spirits, and the 
 exercise of living, holy, and generous affections. 
 
 The scene and time had a strong influence over the maiden, as 
 she slowly took her way to the place where' she was to meet her 
 lover. Bess Matthews, indeed, was singularly susceptible of such 
 influences. She was a girl of heart, but a wild heart, a thing of 
 the forest, gentle as its innocentest flowers, quite as lovely, and if, 
 unlike them, the creature of a less fleeting life, one, at least, whose 
 youth and freshness might almost persuade us to regard her as 
 never having been in existence for a longer season. She was also a 
 girl of thought and intellect something, too, of a dreamer: one 
 to whom a song brought a sentiment the sentiment an emotion, 
 and that in turn sought for an altar on which to lay all the wor- 
 ship of her spirit. She had in her own heart a far sweeter song than 
 that which she occasionally murmured from her lips. She felt all 
 the poetry, all the truth of the scene its passion, its inspiration ; 
 and, with a holy sympathy for all of nature's beautiful, the associated 
 feeling of admiration for all that was noble, also, awakened 'n her 
 mind a sentiment, and in her heart an emotion, that led her, not 
 less to the most careful forbearance to tread upon the humbles,, 
 flower, than to a feeling little short of reverence in the contempla-
 
 THE YEMASSKE. 171 
 
 tion of the gigantic tree. It was her faith, with one of the greatest 
 of modern poets, that the daisy enjoyed its existence ; and that, 
 too, in a degree of exquisite perception, duly according with its 
 loveliness of look and delicacy of structure. This innate principle 
 of regard for the beautiful forest idiots, as we may call its- leaves 
 and flowers, was duly heightened, we may add, by the soft passior. 
 of love then prevailing in her bosom for Gabriel Harrison. She 
 loved him, as she found in him the strength of the tree well com- 
 bined with the softness of the flower. Her heart and fancy at once 
 united in the recognition of his claims upon her affections ; and, 
 however unknown in other respects, she loved him deeply and de- 
 votedly for what she knew. Beyond what she saw beyond the 
 knowledge gathered from his uttered sentiments, and the free grace 
 of his manner his manliness, and playful frankness he was 
 scarcely less a mystery to her than to her father, to whom mystery 
 had far less of recommendation. But the secret and he freely 
 admitted that there was a secret he promised her should soon be 
 revealed ; and it was pleasant to her to confide in the assurance. 
 She certainly longed for the time to come ; and we shall be doing 
 no discredit to her sense of maidenly delicacy when we say, that 
 she wished for the development not so much because she desired 
 the satisfaction of her curiosity, as because the objections of her 
 sire, so Harrison had assured her, would then certainly be removed, 
 and their union would immediately follow. 
 
 " He is not come," she murmured, half disappointed, as the old 
 grove of oaks with all its religious solemnity of shadow lay before 
 her. She took her seat at the foot of a tree, the growth of a cen- 
 tury, whose thick and knotted roots, started from their sheltering 
 earth, shot even above the long grass around them, and ran in irre- 
 gular sweeps for a considerable distance upon the surface. Here 
 she sat not long, for her mind grew impatient and confused with 
 the various thoughts crowding upon it sweet thoughts it may be, 
 for she thought of him whom she loved, of him almost only ; 
 and of the long hours of happy enjoyment which the future had 
 in store. Then came the fears, following fast upon the hopes, as 
 the shadows follow the sunlight. The doubts of existence the
 
 172 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 brevity and the fluctuations of life ; these are the contemplations 
 even of happy love, and these beset and saddened her ; till, starting 
 up in that dreamy confusion which the scene not less than the 
 subject of her musings had inspired, she glided among the old 
 trees, scarce conscious of her movement. 
 
 " He does not come he does not come," she murmured, as slie 
 stood contemplating the thick copse spreading before her, and 
 forming the barrier which terminated the beautiful range of oaks 
 which constituted the grove. How beautiful was the green and 
 garniture of that little copse of wood. The leaves were thick, and 
 the grass around lay folded over and over in bunches, with here 
 and there a wild flower, gleaming from its green, and making of it 
 a beautiful carpet of the richest and most various texture. A 
 small tree rose from the centre of a clump around which a wild 
 grape gadded luxuriantly ; and, with an incoherent sense of what 
 she saw, she lingered before the little cluster, seeming to survey 
 that which, though it seemed to fix her eye, yet failed to fill her 
 thought. Her mind wandered her soul was far away ; and the 
 objects in her vision were far other than those which occupied her 
 imagination. Things grew indistinct beneath her eye. The eye 
 rather slept than saw. The musing spirit had given holiday to 
 the ordinary senses, and took no heed of the forms that rose, and 
 floated, or glided away, before them. In this way, the leaf de- 
 tached made no impression upon the sight that was yet bent upon 
 it ; she saw not the bird, though it whirled, untroubled by a fear, 
 in wanton circles around her head and the black-snake, with the 
 rapidity of an arrow, darted over her path without arousing a 
 single terror in the form that otherwise would have shivered at its 
 mere appearance. And yet, though thus indistinct were all 
 things around her to the musing mind of the maiden, her eye was 
 yet singularly fixed fastened, as it were, to a single spot gathered 
 and controlled by a single object, and glazed, apparently, beneath 
 a curious fascination. Before the maiden rose a little clump of 
 bushes, bright tangled leaves flaunting wide in glossiest green, 
 with vines trailing over them, thickly decked with blue and crim- 
 Aon flowers. Her eye communed vacantly with these ; fastened
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 173 
 
 t? a star-like shinirg glance a subtle ray, that shot out from th 
 circle of green leaves seeming to be their very eye and sending 
 out a fluid lustre that seemed to stream across the space between, 
 and find its way into her own eyes. Very piercing and beautiful 
 was that subtle brightness, of the sweetest, strangest power. And 
 now the leaves quivered and seemed to float away, only to return, 
 and the vines waved and swung around in fantastic mazes, un- 
 folding ever-changing varieties of form and colour to her gaze ; 
 but the star-like eye was ever steadfast, bright and gorgeous 
 gleaming in their midst, and still fastened, with strange fondness, 
 upon her own. How beautiful, with wondrous intensity, did it 
 gleam, and dilate, growing large and more lustrous with every ray 
 which it sent forth. And her owu glance became intense, fixed 
 also; but with a dreaming sense that conjured up the wildest 
 fancies, terribly beautiful, that took her soul away from her, and 
 wrapt it about as with a spell. She would have fled, she would 
 have flown ; but she had not power to move. The will was wanting 
 to her flight. She felt that she could have bent forward to pluck 
 the gem-like thing from the bosom of the leaf in which it seemed 
 to grow, and which it irradiated with its bright white gleam ; but 
 ever as she aimed to stretch forth her hand, and bend forward, 
 she heard a rush of wings, and a shrill scream from the tree above 
 her such a scream as the mock-bird makes, when, angrily, it 
 raises its dusky crest, and flaps its wings furiously against its slender 
 sides. Such a scream seemed like a warning, and though yet un- 
 awakened to full consciousness, it startled her and forbade her 
 effort. More than once, in her survey of this strange object, had 
 she heard that shrill note, and still had it carried to her ear the 
 same note of warning, and to her mind the same vague conscious- 
 ness of an evil presence. But the star-like eye was yet upon her 
 own a small, bright eye, quick like that of a bird, now steady in 
 its place and observant seemingly only of hers, now darting for- 
 ward with all the clustering leaves about it, and shooting up to- 
 wards her, as if wooing her to seize. At another moment, riveted 
 to the vine which lay around it, it would whirl round and round, 
 dazzlingly bright and beautiful, even as a torch, waving hurriedly
 
 174 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 by night in the hands of some playful boy ; but, in all this time, 
 the glance was never taken from her own there it grew, fixed a 
 very principle of light, and such a light a subtle, burning, 
 piercing, fascinating gleam, such as gathers in vapour above the 
 old grave, and binds us as we look shooting, darting directly into 
 her eye, dazzling her gaze, defeating its sense of discrimination, 
 and confusing strangely that of perception. She felt dizzy, for, as 
 she looked, a cloud of colours, bright, gay, various colours, floated 
 and hung like so much drapery around the single object that had 
 so secured her attention and spell-bound her feet. Her limbs felt 
 momently more and more insecure her blood grew cold, and she 
 seemed to feel the gradual freeze of vein by vein, throughout her 
 person. At that moment a rustling was heard in the branches of 
 the tree beside her, and the bird, which had repeatedly uttered a 
 single cry above her, as it were of warning, flew away from his 
 station with a scream more piercing than ever. This movement 
 had the effect, for which it really seemed intended, of bringing 
 back to her a portion of the consciousness she seemed so totally 
 to have been deprived of before. She strove to move from before 
 the beautiful but terrible presence, but for a while she strove in 
 vain. The rich, star-like glance still riveted her own, and the 
 subtle fascination kept her bound. The mental energies, however, 
 with the moment of their greatest trial, now gathered suddenly to 
 her aid ; and, with a desperate effort, but with a feeling still of 
 most annoying uncertainty and dread, she succeeded partially in 
 the attempt, and threw her arms backwards, her hands grasping 
 the neighbouring tree, feeble, tottering, and depending upon it for 
 that support which her own limbs almost entirely denied her. 
 With her movement, however, came the full development of the 
 powerful spell and dreadful mystery before her. As her feet re- 
 ceded, though but a single pace, to the tree against which she 
 now rested, the audibly articulated ring, like that of a watch when | 
 wound up with the verge broken, announced the nature of that 
 splendid yet dangerous presence, in the form of the monstrous ' 
 rattlesnake, now but a few feet before her, lying coiled at the 
 bottom of a beautiful shrub, with which, to her dreaming eye, many 
 

 
 THE YEHASSEE. 175 
 
 of its own glorious hues bad become associated. She was, al 
 length, conscious enough to perceive and to feel all her danger ; 
 but terror had denied her the strength necessary to fly from her 
 dreadful enemy. There still the eye glared beautifully bright and 
 .ercing upon her own; and, seemingly in a spirit of sport, the 
 nsidious reptile slowly unwound himself from his coil, but only to 
 gather himself up again into his muscular rings, his great flat 
 head rising in the midst, and slowly nodding, as it were, towards 
 her, the eye still peering deeply into her own; the rattle still 
 slightly ringing at intervals, and giving forth that paralyzing 
 sound, which, once heard, is remembered for ever. The reptile all 
 tins while appeared to be conscious of, and to sport with, while 
 seeking to excite her terrors. Now, with its flat head, distended 
 mouth, and curving neck, would it dart forward its long form to- 
 wards her, its fatal teeth, unfolding on either side of its upper 
 jaws, seeming to threaten her with instantaneous death, while its 
 powerful eye shot forth glances of that fatal power of fascination, 
 malignantly bright, which, by paralyzing, with a novel form of 
 terror and of beauty, may readily account for the spell it possesses 
 of binding the feet of the timid, and denying to fear even the 
 privilege of flight. Could she have fled ! She felt the necessity ; 
 but the power of her limbs was gone ! and there still it lay, coiling 
 and uncoiling, its arching neck glittering like a ring of brazed 
 copper, bright and lurid ; and the dreadful beauty of its eye still 
 fastened, eagerly contemplating the victim, while the pendulous 
 rattle still rang the death note, as if to prepare the conscious mind 
 for the fate which is momently approaching to the blow. Mean- 
 while the stillness became death-like with all surrounding objects. 
 The bird had gone with its scream and rush. The breeze was 
 silent. The vines ceased to wava. The leaves faintly quivered on 
 their stems. The serpent once more lay still ; but the eye was 
 never once turned away from the victim. Its corded muscles arei 
 all in coil. They have but to unclasp suddenly, and the dreadfulj 
 foMs will be upon her, its full length, and the fatal teeth will strike, 
 and the deadly venom which they secrete will mingle with the 
 fife blood in her veins.
 
 176 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 The terrified damsel, her full consciousness restored, but not her 
 strength, feels all the danger. She sees that the sport of the ter- 
 rible reptile is at an end. She cannot now mistake the horrid 
 expression of its eye. She strives to scream, but the voice dies 
 away, a feeble gurgling in her throat. Her tongue is paralyzed ; 
 her lips are sealed once more she strives for flight, but her litnbs 
 refuse their office. She has nothing left of life but its fearful con- 
 sciousness. It is in her despair, that, a last effort, she succeeds to 
 scream, a single wild cry, forced from her by the accumulated 
 agony ; she sinks down upon the grass before her enemy her eyes, 
 however, still open, and still looking upon those which he directs 
 for ever upon them. She sees him approach now advancing, 
 uow receding now swelling in every part with something of 
 anger, while his neck is arched beautifully like that of a wild horse 
 under the curb ; until, at length, tired as it were of play, like the 
 -at with its victim, she sees the neck growing larger and becoming 
 completely bronzed as about to strike the huge jaws unclosing 
 almost directly above her, the long tubulated fang, charged with 
 venom, protruding from the cavernous mouth and she sees no 
 more ! Insensibility came to her aid, and she lay almost lifeless 
 finder the very folds of the monster. 
 
 In that moment the copse parted and an arrow, piercing the 
 oaonster through and through the neck, bore his head forward to 
 the ground, alongside of the maiden, while his spiral extremities, 
 now unfolding in his own agony, were actually, in part, writhing i 
 upon her person. The arrow came from the fugitive Occonestoga, / 
 who had fortunately reached the spot, in season, on his way to the/ 
 Block House. He rushed from the copse, as the snake fell, and, 
 with a stick, fearlessly approached him where he lay tossing in 
 agony upon the graSs. Seeing him advance, the courageous reptile 
 jiade an effort to regain his coil, shaking the fearful rattle violently 
 at every evolution which he took for that purpose ; but the arrow, 
 completely passing through his neck, opposed an unyielding 
 obstacle to the endeavour ; and finding it hopeless, and seeing the 
 new enemy about to assault him, with something of the spirit of 
 the white man under like circumstances, he turned desperately
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 177 
 
 round, and striking his charged fangs, so that they were riveted in 
 the wound they made, into a susceptible part of his own body, he 
 threw himself over with a single convulsion, and, a moment after 
 lay dead beside the utterly unconscious maiden.* 
 
 * The power of the rattlesnake to fascinate, is a frequent faith among the 
 superstitious of the southern country -people. Of this capacity in reference 
 to birds and insects, frogs, and the smaller reptiles, there is indeed little 
 question. Its power over persons is not so well authenticated, although 
 numberless instances of this sort are given by persons of very excellent 
 veracity. The above is almost literally worded after a verbal narrative 
 furnished the author by an old lady, who never dreamed, herself, of 
 doubting the narration. It is more than probable, indeed, that the mind 
 of a timid person, coming suddenly upon a reptile so highly venomous, 
 would for a time be paralyzed by its consciousness of danger, sufficiently 
 so to defeat exertion for a while, and deny escape. The authorities foi 
 this superstition are, however, quite sufficient for the romancer, and in n 
 work like the present we need no other.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Come with me ; thou shall hear of my reioly*." 
 
 WITHOUT giving more than a single glance to the maiden, 
 Occonestoga approached the snake, and, drawing his knife, pre- 
 pared to cut away the rattles, always a favourite Indian ornament, 
 which terminated his elongated folds. He approached his victim 
 with a deportment the most respectful, and, after the manner of 
 his people, gravely, and in the utmost good faith, apologized in 
 well set terms, in his own language, for the liberty he had already 
 taken, and that which he was then about to take. He protested 
 the necessity he had been under in destroying it ; and, urging his 
 desire to possess the excellent and only evidence of his own prowess 
 in conquering so great a warrior, which the latter carried at his 
 tail, he proceeded to cut away the rattles with as much tenderness 
 as could have been shown by the most considerate operator, 
 divesting a fellow-creature, still living, of his limbs. A proceeding 
 like this, so amusing as it would seem to us, is readily accounted 
 for, when we consider the prevailing, sentiment among the Indians 
 in reference to the rattlesnake. With them he is held the gentle- 
 man, the nobleman the very prince of snakes. His attributes are 
 devoutly esteemed among them, and many of their own habits 
 derive their existence from models furnished by his peculiarities. 
 He is brave, will never fly from an enemy, and for this they honour 
 him. If approached, he holds his ground and is never unwilling 
 for the combat. He does not begin the affray, and is content to 
 defend himself against invasion. He will not strike without due 
 warning of his intention, and when he strikes, the blow of his 
 weapon is fatal. It is highly probable, indeed, that, even the war- 
 w-oop with which the Indians preface their own onset, has been
 
 OCCONESTOGA RESCUES BESS MATTHEWS FROM THE CLUTCH 
 OF A SERPENT. 
 
 Page 179.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 179 
 
 borrowed from the warning rattle of this fatal, but honourable 
 enemy.* 
 
 Many minutes had not elapsed before the operation was com 
 pleted, and the Indian became the possessor of the desired trophy 
 The snake had thirteen rattles, and a button, or incipient rattle ; it 
 was therefore fourteen years old as it acquires the button during 
 its first year, and each succeeding year yields it a new rattle. As 
 < Vcouestoga drew the body of the serpent from that of Bess 
 Matthews, her eyes unclosed, though but for an instant. The first 
 object in her gaze was the swollen and distorted reptile, which the 
 Indian was just then removing from her sight. Her terror was 
 aroused anew, and with a single shriek she again closed her eyes 
 in utter unconsciousness. At that moment, Harrison darted down 
 the path. That single shriek had given wings to his movement, 
 and rushing forward, and beholding her lifted in the arms of 
 Occonestoga, who, at her cry, had come to her support, and had 
 raised her partially from the ground he sprang fiercely upon him, 
 tore her from his hold, and sustaining her with one hand, wielded 
 his hatchet fiercely in the other above his owe head, while directing 
 its edge upon that of the Indian. Occonestoga looked up indiffer- 
 ently, almost scornfully, and without exhibiting any wish to escape 
 the blow. This appearance of indifference or recklessness arrested 
 the arm of Harrison, and caused him to doubt and hesitate. 
 
 "Speak, young chief! speak, Occonestoga ; say what does this 
 mean ? What have you done to the maiden ? Quickly speak, or 
 I strike." 
 
 " Strike, Harrison ! the hatchet is good for Occonestoga. He 
 has a death-song that is good. He can die like a man." 
 
 , * This respect of the Indians for the rattlesnake, leading most usually to 
 much forbearance when they encountered him, necessarily resulted in the 
 greater longevity of this snake than of any other. In some cases, they 
 have been found so overgrown from this forbearance, as to be capable of 
 swallowing entire a young fawn. An instance of this description has been 
 related by .k-a early settlers of South Carolina, and, well authenticated, ii 
 to be found on record. The movements of the rattlesnake are usually 
 very slow, and the circumstance of his taking prey BO agile as the fawn, 
 would be something in favour of an extensive fascinating faculty. That' 
 bo takes birds with some such influence there is no sort of question.
 
 180 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " What hast thou done with the maiden tell me, Occonestoga, 
 ere I hew thee down like a dog." 
 
 " Occonestoga is a dog. Sanutee, the father ot Occonestoga, 
 says he is a dog of the English. There is no fork in the tongue 
 of Sanutee. Look ! The war-rattle put his eye on the girl of the 
 pale-face, and she cried out, for his eye was upon her to kill ! 
 Look, Harrison, it is the arrow of Occonestoga," and as he spoke 
 he pointed to the shaft which still stuck in the neck of the serpent. 
 Harrison, who before had not seen the snake, which the Indian 
 had thrown aside under the neighbouring bush, now shivered as 
 with a convulsion, while, almost afraid to speak, and his face paling 
 like death as he did so, he cried to him in horror : 
 
 " God of Heaven tell me, Occonestoga say is she struck 
 is she struck ? " and before he could hear the reply his tremors 
 were so great that he was compelled to lay the still insensible form 
 of the maiden, unequal then to her support, upon the grass 
 beneath the tree. 
 
 The Indian smiled, with something of scornful satisfaction, as 
 he replied 
 
 " It was the swift arrow of Occonestoga and the war-rattle had 
 no bite for the girl of the pale-faces. The blood is good in her 
 heart." 
 
 " Thank God thank God ! Young chief of the Yemassee, I 
 thank thee I thank thee, Occonestoga thou shalt have a rich 
 gift a noble reward for this;" and, seizing the hand of the youth 
 wildly, he pressed it with a tenacious gripe that well attested the 
 sincerity of his feelings. But the gloom of the recreant savage 
 was too deeply driven into his spirit by his recent treatment and 
 fugitive privations, to experience much pleasure, either from the 
 proffered friendship or the promised reward of the English. He* 
 had some feeling of nationality left, which a return to sobriety 
 always made active. 
 
 " Occonestoga is a dog," said he ; " death for Occonestoga ! " 
 
 For a moment Harrison searched him narrowly with his eye ; 
 but as he saw in his look nothing but the one expression with 
 which an Indian in the moment of excitement conceals all others, 
 of sullen indifference to all things around him, he forbore further
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 181 
 
 remark, and simply demanded assistance in the recovery of the 
 maiden. Water was brought, and after a few moments her lover 
 had the satisfaction of noting her returning consciousness. The 
 colour came back to her cheeks, her eyes opened upon the light, 
 her lips murmured in prayer, a prayer for protection, as if she 
 still felt the. dangers present and threatening still, from which she 
 had escaped so happily. But the glance of her lover re 
 assured her. 
 
 " Oh, Gabriel, such a dream such a horrible dream," and she 
 shuddered and looked anxiously around her. 
 
 " Ay, dearest, such as I trust you will never again suffer. But 
 fear not. You are now safe and entirely unhurt. Thanks to our 
 brave friend Occonestoga here, whose arrow has been your safety." 
 
 " Thanks, thanks to thee, young chief I know thee ; I shall 
 remember," and she looked gratefully to the Indian, whose head 
 simply nodded a recognition of her acknowledgment. 
 
 " But where, Gabriel, is the monster? Oh ! how its eye dazzled 
 and ensnared me. I felt as if my feet were tied, and my knees 
 had lost all their strength." 
 
 a There he lies, Bess, and a horrible monster he is, indeed. See 
 there, his rattles, thirteen and a button an old snake, whose blow 
 must have been instant death !" 
 
 The maiden shuddered as she looked upon the reptile to whose 
 venom she had so nearly fallen a victim. It was now swollen to 
 a prodigious size from the natural effects of its own poison. In 
 places about its body, which the fatal secretion had most easily 
 affected, it had bulged out into putrid lumps, almost to bursting ; 
 while, from one end to the other of its attenuated length, the 
 linked diamonds which form the ornament of its back, had, from 
 the original dusky brown and sometimes bronze of their colour, 
 now assumed a complexion of spotted green livid and diseased. 
 Its eyes, however, though glazed, had not yet lost all of that 
 original and awful brightness, which, when looking forth in anger, 
 nothing can surpass for terrific beauty of expression. The powers 
 of this glance none may well express, and few imagine ; and when 
 we take into consideration the feeling of terror with which the timid 
 mind is apt to contemplate an object known to be so fatal, it will
 
 182 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 not be difficult to account for its possession of the charm commonly 
 ascribed to this reptile in the southern country, by which, it is the 
 vulgar faith, he can compel the bird from the highest tree to leave 
 his perch, shrieking with fear and full of the most dreadful con- 
 sciousness, struggling with all the power of its wings, and at last, 
 after every effort has proved fruitless, under the influence of that 
 unswerving glance, to descend even into the jaws which lie wait- 
 ing to receive it. Providence in this way has seemingly found it 
 necessary to clothe even with a moral power the evanescent and 
 merely animal nature of its creation ; and, with a due wisdom, 
 for, as the rattlesnake is singularly slow in its general movements, 
 it might suffer frequently from want of food unless some such 
 power had been assigned it. The study of all nature with a little 
 more exactitude, would perhaps discover to us an enlarged instinct 
 in every other form of life, which a narrow analysis might almost 
 set down as the fullest evidence of an intellectual existence. 
 
 The interview between Harrison and Bess Matthews had been 
 especially arranged with reference to a discussion of various matters, 
 important to both, and affecting the relations which existed between 
 them. But it was impossible, in the prostrate and nervous condi- 
 tion in which he found her, that much could be thought or said of 
 other matters than those which had been of the last few moments 1 
 occurrence. Still they lingered, and still they strove to converse 
 on their affairs; despite the presence of Occonestoga, wko sat 
 patiently at the foot of a tree without show of discontent or sign of 
 hunger, though, for a term of at least eighteen hours, he had eaten 
 nothing. In this lies one of the chief merits of an Indian warrior 
 
 " Severe the school that made him bear 
 The ills of life without a tear 
 And stem the doctrine that denied 
 The chieftain fame, the warrior pride ; 
 Who, urged by nature's wants expressed 
 The need that hungered in his breast 
 Or, when beneath his foeman's knife, 
 Who uttered recreant prayer for life 
 Or, in the chase, whose strength was spent, 
 Or in the fight whose knee was bent, 
 Or, when with tale of coming fight
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 183 
 
 Who sought his allies' lodge by night, 
 And ere his missives well were told, 
 Complained of hunger wet, and cold. 
 A woman, if in fight his foe, 
 Could give, yet not receive the blow 
 Or, if undext'rously and dull, 
 
 His hand and knife had failed to win 
 The dripping, warm scalp from the scull 
 
 To trim his yellow mocasin." 
 
 Thus, a perfect embodiment of the character, so wrought and so 
 described, Occonestoga, calm, sullen, and stern, sat beneath the 
 tree, without look or word, significant of that fatigue and hunger 
 under which he must have been seriously suffering. He surveyed, 
 with something like scorn, those evidences between the lovers of 
 that nice and delicate affection which belongs only to the highest 
 forms of civilization. At length, bidding him wait his return, 
 Harrison took the way with Bess, who was now sufficiently restored 
 for the effort, to the cottage of her father. It was not long before 
 he returned to the savage, whose hand he again shook cordially 
 and affectionately, while repeating his grateful promise of reward. 
 Then, turning to a subject at that time strongly present in his 
 mind, he inquired into the recent demonstrations of his people. 
 
 " Occonestoga, what news is this of the Yemassee ? He is angry, 
 is he not !" 
 
 " Angry to kill, Harrison. Is not the scout on the path of 
 Occonestoga Occonestoga, the son of Sanutee ? look ! the toma- 
 nawk of Sanutee shook in the eyes of Occonestoga. The swift foot, 
 the close bush, the thick swamp and the water they were the 
 friends of Occonestoga. Occonestoga is a dog. The scouts of 
 Yemassee look for him in the swamps." 
 
 " You m st oe hungry and weary, Occonestoga. Come with mo 
 to the Block House, where there are meat and drink." 
 
 " Harrison is fhend to Occonestoga ?" 
 
 " Surely I am," was the reply. 
 
 " The good friend will kill Occonestoga ?" wi s the demand, 
 uttered in tones of more solicitude than is common to the Indian. 
 
 "fell you ? no ! why should I kill you ?"
 
 184 
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " It is good ! knife Occonestoga, Englishman ; put the sharp 
 tooth here, in his heart, for the father of Occonestoga has a curse 
 for his head ! Sanutee has sworn him to Opitchi-Manneyto ! will 
 not the chief of the English put the sharp knife here ?" The en- 
 treaty was earnestly made. The uttermost depths of despair 
 seemed to have been sounded by the outcast. 
 
 " No, Occonestoga, no. I will do no such thing. Thou shalt 
 live and do well, and be at friendship with thy father and thy 
 people. Come with me to the Block House and get something to 
 eat. We will talk over this affair of thy people. Come with me, 
 young chief, all will be right ere many days. Come !" 
 
 The melancholy savage rose, passively resigned to any will, hav- 
 ing none of his own. In silence he followed his conductor to the 
 Block House, where, under the instructions of Harrison, Granger 
 ,nd his wife received him with the kindliest solicitude.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " And wherefore sinews he that strange song of death, 
 That song A sorrow ? Is the doom at hand ? " 
 
 THE wife of Granger soon provided refreshments for the young 
 iavage, of winch he ate sparingly, and without much seeming con- 
 sciousness of what he was doing. Harrison did not trouble him 
 much with remark or inquiry, but busied himself in looking after 
 the preparations for the defence of the building. For this purpose. 
 Hector and himself occupied an hour in the apartment adjoining 
 that in which the household concerns of Granger were carried on. 
 In this apartment Hector kept Dugdale, a famous bloodhound, 
 supposed to have been brought from the Caribbees, which, when 
 very young, Harrison had purchased from a Spanish trader. This 
 dog was of a peculiar breed, and resembled in some respects the 
 Irish wolf-hound, while having all the thirst and appetite for blood 
 which distinguished the more ancient Slute or Sleuth-hound of the 
 Scots. It is a mistake to suppose that the Spaniards brought 
 these dogs to America. They found them here, actually in use by 
 the Indians and for like purposes, and only perfected their train- 
 ing, while stimulating them in the pursuit of man. The dog Dug- 
 dale had been partially trained after their fashion to hunt the 
 Indians, and even under his present owner, it was not deemed 
 unbecoming that he should be prepared for the purposes of war 
 upon the savages, by the occasional exhibition of a stuffed figure, 
 so made and painted ae to resemble a naked Indian, around whose 
 neck a lump of raw and bleeding beef was occasionally suspended. 
 This was shown him while chained, from any near approach he 
 was withheld until his appetite had been so wrought upon that 
 longer restraint would have been dangerous ana impossible. The 
 training of these dogs, as known to the early French and Spanish
 
 186 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 settlers, by both of whom they were in common use for the pur- 
 pose of war with the natives, is exceeding curious ; and so fierce 
 under this sort of training did they become in process of time 
 that it was found necessary to restrain them in cages while thus 
 stimulated, until the call to the field, and the prospect of imme- 
 diate strife, should give an opportunity to the exercise of thei/ 
 iiiallayed rapacity. In the civil commotions of Hayti, the most 
 formidable enemies known to the insurrectionists were the fierce 
 Jogs which had been so educated by the French. The dog of 
 Harrison had not, however, been greatly exercised by his present 
 owner after this fashion. He had been simply required to follow 
 and attend upon his master, under the conduct of Hector, for both 
 of whom his attachments had become singularly strong. But the 
 early lessons of his Spanish masters had not been forgotten by 
 Dugdale, who, in the war of the Carolinians with the Coosaws, 
 following his master into battle, proved an unlooked-for auxiliar 
 of the one, and an enemy whose very appearance struck terror into 
 the other. So useful an ally was not to be neglected, and the 
 .stuffed figure which had formed a part of the property of the 
 animal in the sale by his Spanish master, was brought into occa- 
 sional exercise and use, under the charge of Hector, in confirming 
 Dugdale's warlike propensities. In this exercise, with the figure 
 of a naked Indian perched against one corner, and a part of a 
 deer's entrails hanging around his neck, Hector, holding back the 
 'log by a stout rope drawn around a beam, the better to embarrass 
 him at pleasure, was stimulating at the same time his hunger and 
 ferocity. 
 
 " Does Dugdale play to-day, Hector ?" inquired his master. 
 
 "He hab finesperits, maussa berry fine sperits. I kin hardly 
 keep 'em in. See da, now " and, as the slave spoke, the dog 
 broke away, dragging the rope suddenly through the hands of the 
 holder, and, without remarking the meat, ran crouching to the 
 fcet of Harrison. 
 
 " Him nebber forgit you, maussa, ebber since you put your 
 hand down he troat." 
 
 Harrison snapped his fingers, and motioning with his hand to 
 the bleeding entrails of the deer around the neck of the figure,
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 187 
 
 the hound sprang furiously upon it, and dragging it to the floor, 
 planted himself across the body, while, with his formidable teeth, 
 he tore away the bait from the neck where it was wound, lacerat- 
 ing the figure at every bite, in a manner which would have soon 
 deprived the living man of all show of life. Having given some 
 directions to the slave, Harrison returned to the apartment where 
 he had left the Indian. 
 
 Occonestoga sat in a corner mournfully croning over, in au 
 uncouth strain, something of a song, rude, sanguinary, in his own 
 wild language. Something of the language was known to Harri- 
 son, but not enough to comprehend the burden of what he sang. 
 But the look and the manner of the savage were so solemn and 
 imposing, so strange yet so full of dignified thought, that the Eng- 
 lishman did not venture to interrupt him. He turned to Granger, 
 who, with his wife, was partially employed in one corner of the 
 apartment, folding up some of his wares and burnishing others. 
 
 " What does he sing, Granger ?' he asked of the trader. 
 
 " His death song, sir. It is something very strange but he 
 has been at it now for some time ; and the Indian does not employ 
 that song unless with a near prospect of death. He has probably 
 had some dream or warning, and they are very apt to believe in 
 such things." 
 
 " Indeed ! his death-song " murmured Harrison, while he 
 listened attentively to the low chant which the Indian still kept 
 up. At his request, forbearing his labour, Granger listened also, 
 and translated at intervals the purport of many of the stanzas. 
 
 " What is the Seratee," in his uncouth lyric, sang the melancholy 
 Indian 
 
 "What is the Seratee? 
 He is but a dog 
 Sneaking in the long grass 
 I have stood before him, 
 And he did not look 
 
 By his hair I took him, 
 
 By the single tuft 
 From his head I tore it, 
 With it came the scalp, 
 On my thigh I wore it
 
 188 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 With the chiefs I stood, 
 And they gave me honour, 
 Made of me a chief, 
 To the sun they held me, 
 And aloud the prophet 
 Bade me be a chief 
 Chief of all the Yemassee 
 Feather chief and arrow chief 
 Chief of all the Yemassee,'' 
 
 At the conclusion of this uncouth verse, he proceeded in a 
 different tone and manner, and his present form of speech coii- 
 .-'.ituted a break or pause in the song. 
 
 " That Opitchi-Manneyto wherefore is he wroth with the young 
 chief who went on the war-path against the Seratee ? lie maoe 
 slaves for him from the dogs of the long grass. Let Opitchi-Man- 
 neyto hear. Occonestoga is a brave chief, he hath struck his- 
 hatchet into the lodge of the Savannah, when there was a full .SUL 
 in the forests." 
 
 " Now," said Granger, " he is going to tell us of another 01 hie 
 achievements." Occonestoga went on 
 
 ' Hear, Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 Hear Occonestoga speak 
 Who of the Savannah stood 
 In the council, in the fight 
 With the gallant Suwannee I 
 Bravest he, of all the brave, 
 Like an arrow path in fight 
 When he came, his tomahawk 
 (Hear, Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 Not a forked tongue is mine ) 
 Frighted the brave Yemassee 
 Till Occonestoga came 
 Till Occonestoga stood 
 Face to face with Suwannee, 
 By the old Satilla swamp. 
 Then his eyes were in the mud 
 With these hands I tore away 
 The war ringlet from his head 
 With it came the bleeding scalp 
 Suwannee is in the mud;
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 189 
 
 . Frighted baek, bis warriors run, 
 
 Left him buried in the mud 
 Ho ! the gray-wolf speaks aloud. 
 Hear, Opitchi-Manneyto ; 
 He had plenty food that night, 
 And for ine he speaks aloud 
 Suwannee is in his jaw 
 Look, Opitchi-Mauneyto 
 See him tear Suwannee's side, 
 See him drink Suwannee's blood 
 With his paw upon his breast, 
 Look, he pull* the heart away, 
 And his nose is searching deep, 
 Clammy, thick with bloody drink, 
 In the hollow where it lay. 
 Look, Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 Look, the grey-wolf speaks for me." 
 
 Then after this wild and barbarous chant, which, verse attei 
 verse, Granger rendered to Harrison, a pause of a few moments 
 was suffered to succeed, in which, all the while^in the profoundest 
 silence, the young warrior continued to wave his head backwards 
 and forwards at regular intervals. 
 
 " He has had a warning certainly, captain ; I have seen them 
 frequently go on so. Now, he begins again." 
 
 Not singing, but again addressing the evil deity, Occonestoga 
 began with the usual adjuration. 
 
 "Arrows and feathers, burnt arrows and feathers a bright flame 
 for thee, Opitchi-Manneyto. Look not dark upon the young brave 
 of Yemassee. Hear his song of the war path and the victory." 
 
 This said, he resumed the chant in a burden of less personal, 
 and more national character, a more sounding and elevated strain, 
 and which, in the translation of Granger, : ecessarily lost much 
 of its native sublimity. 
 
 "Mighty is the Yemaasee, 
 Strong in the trial, 
 Fearless in the strife, m 
 Terrible in wrath 
 Look, Opitchi-Manneyto 
 He is like the rush of clouds.
 
 190 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 He is like the storm by nighty 
 When the tree-top bends and shivers, 
 When the lodge goes down. 
 The Westo and the Edisto, 
 What are they to him? 
 Like the brown leaves to the cold, 
 Look, they shrink before his touch, 
 Shrink and shiver as he comes 
 Mighty is the Yemassee." 
 
 Harrison now ventured to interrupt the enthusiastic but stiL 
 sullen warrior. He interrupted him with a compliment, confirm- 
 ing that which he had himself been uttering, to the prowess of his 
 nation. 
 
 "That is a true song, Occonestoga that in praise of your 
 nation. They are indeed a brave people ; but I fear under wild 
 management now. But come here is some drink, it will 
 strengthen you." 
 
 " It is good," said he, drinking, " it is good good for strength. 
 The English is a friend to Occonestoga." 
 
 " We have always tried to be so, Occonostoga, as you should 
 know by this time. But speak to me of Pocota-ligo. What 
 have the people been doing there 2 What maddens them, 
 and wherefore should they grow angry with their English 
 brothers ?" 
 
 " The Yemassee is like the wolf he smells blood on the track 
 of the hunter, when the young cub is carried away. He is blind, 
 like the rattlesnake, with the poison of the long sleep, when he 
 first comes out in the time of the green corn. He wants blood to 
 drink he would strike the enemy." 
 
 " I see. The Yemassees are impatient of peace. They would go 
 upon the war-path, and strike the English as their enemies. Is 
 this what you think, Occonestoga ?" 
 
 " Harrison speaks ! The English is a friend to Yemassee, but 
 Yemassee will not hear the word of Occonestoga. Sanutee says 
 the tongue of Occonestoga has a fork he speaks in two voices." 
 
 " They are mad, young tfrave but not so mad, I think, as to go 
 on the war-path without an object. At this moment they could 
 not hope to h.e successful, and would find it destructive."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 191 
 
 '' The thought of Occouestoga is here. They will go on the war 
 t>ath against the English." 
 
 " Ha ! If you think so, Occonestoga, you must be our friend." 
 " Cha ! Cha ! Occonestoga is too much friend to the English." 
 " Not too much, not too much not more than they will reward 
 you for." 
 
 " Will the strong water of the English make Occonestoga to be 
 the son of Sanutee ? Will the meat carry Occonestoga to the 
 young braves of the Yemassee ? Will they sleep till he speaks for 
 them to wake ? Look, Harrison, the death-song is made for 
 
 " Not so there is no cause yet for you to sing the death-song 
 of the young warrior." 
 
 " Occonestoga has said ! he has seen it came to him when he 
 ate meat from the hands of the trader." 
 
 "Ah ! that is all owing to your fatigue and hunger, Occonestoga. 
 You have long years of life before you, and still have some service 
 to perform fo/ your friends, the English. You must find out for 
 us certainty whether your people mean to go on the war-path or 
 not where they will strike first, and when ; and above all, whether 
 any other tribes join with them. You must go for us back to 
 Pocota-ligo. You must watch the steps of the chiefs, and bring 
 word of what they intend." 
 
 An overpowering sense of his own shame as he listened to this 
 requisition of Harrison, forced his head down upon his bosom, 
 while the gloom grew darker upon his face. At length he 
 exclaimed 
 
 " It is no good talk : must Occonestoga be a dog for the English ? 
 The tomahawk of Sanutee is good for a dog." 
 
 " Wherefore this, young chief of the Yemassee ? What mean 
 you by this speech ?" 
 
 "Young chief of Yemassee!" exclaimed the savage, repeating 
 the phrase of Harrison as if in derision " said you not the young 
 chief of Yemassee should hunt his people like a dog in the cover 
 of the bush ?" 
 
 " Not like a dog, Occonestoga, but like a good friend, as well to 
 tka English as to the Yemassee. Is net peace good for both i Ii
 
 192 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 is peace, not war, that the English desire ; but if there be wai 
 Occonestoga, they will take all the scalps of your nation." 
 
 "The English must look to his own scalp," cried the young 
 man, fiercely, " the hand of the Yemassee is ready ; " and as he 
 spoke, for a moment his eye lightened up, and his form rose erect 
 from the place where he had been sitting, while a strong feeling 
 of nationality in his bosom aroused him into something like the 
 warlike show of an eloquent chief inspiriting his tribe for the fight. 
 But Granger, who had been watchful, came forward with a cup of 
 spirits, which, without a word, he now handed him. The youth 
 seized it hurriedly, drank it off at a single effort, and, in that act, 
 the momentary enthusiasm which had lightened up, with a show 
 of still surviving consciousness and soul, the otherwise desponding 
 and degraded features, passed away ; and sinking again into his 
 seat, he replied to the other portion of the remark of Harrison : 
 
 " It is good, what the English speaks. Peace is good peace for 
 the Yemassee peace for the English peace peace for Occo- 
 nestoga Occonestoga speaks for peace." 
 
 " Then let Occonestoga do as I wish him. Let him go this very 
 night to Pocota-ligo. Let his eye take the track of the chiefs, 
 and look at their actions. Let him come back to-morrow, and 
 say all that he has seen, and claim his reward from the English." 
 
 " There is death for Occonestoga if the Yemassee scout finds his 
 track." 
 
 " But the young chief has an eye like the hawk a foot like the 
 sneaking panther, and a body limber as the snake. He can see 
 his enemy afar he can hide in the thick bush he can lie still 
 under the dead timber when the hunter steps over it." 
 
 " And rise to strike him in the heel like the yellow-belly moc- 
 casin. Yes ! The young chief is a great warrior the Seratee is 
 a dog, the Savannah is a dog Look, his legs have the scalp of 
 Suwannee and Chareco. Occonestoga is a great warrior." 
 
 The vanity of the savage once enlisted, and his scruples were 
 soon overcome. An additional cup of spirits which Granger again 
 furnished him, concluded the argument, and he avowed himself 
 ready for the proposed adventure. His preparatious were soon 
 completed, and when the night had fairly set in, the fugitive was
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 198 
 
 on the scent, and again within the boundary lines of his nation , 
 and cautiously threading his way, with all the skill and cunning 
 of an Indian, among the paths of the people whom he had so 
 grievously incensed. He knew the danger, but he was vain of his 
 warrior and hunter skill. He did not fear death, for it is the habi- 
 tual practice of the Indian's thought to regard it as a part of his 
 existence ; and his dying ceremonies form no inconsiderable part 
 of the legacy of renown which is left to his children. But had 
 he known the doom which had been pronounced against him, 
 along with the other chiefs, and which had been already executed 
 upon them by the infuriated people, he had never ventured to* an 
 instant upor so dangerous a commission.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " What love is like a mother's 3 You may break 
 The heart that holds it you may trample it 
 In shame and sorrow ; but you may not tear 
 One single link away that keeps it there." 
 
 HALF couscious only of his design at starting, the young ano 
 profligate savage, on crossing to the opposite shore, which he 
 did just at the Block House, grew more sensible, not only in 
 reference to the object of his journey, but to the dangers which 
 necessarily came along with it. Utterly ignorant, as yet, of that 
 peculiar and unusual doom which had been pronounced against 
 himself and the other chiefs, and already executed upon them, 
 he had yet sufficient reason to apprehend that, if taken, his punish- 
 ment, death probably, would be severe enough. Apprehending 
 this probability, the fear which it inspired was not however suffi- 
 cient to discourage him from an adventure which, though pledged 
 for its performance in a moment of partial inebriation, was yet 
 held by the simple Indian to be all-binding upon him. Firmly 
 resolved, therefore, upon the fulfilment of his promise to Harrison, 
 who, with Granger and others, had often before employed him, 
 though on less dangerous missions, he went forward, preparing to 
 watch the progress of events among the Yemassees, and to report 
 duly the nature of their warlike proceedings. 
 
 The aim of Harrison was preparation, and the purpose was there- 
 fore of the highest importance upon which Occonestoga had beer 
 sent. The generally exposed situation of the whole frontier occu 
 pied by the whites, with the delay and difficulty of warlike prepa- 
 ration, rendered every precautionary measure essential on the part 
 of the Carolinians. For this reason, a due and proper intelligence 
 of the means, designs, and strength of their adversaries, became 
 absolutely necessary ; particularly as the capricious nature of 
 savage affections makes it doubtful whether they can, for any
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 195 
 
 length of time, continue in peace and friendship. How far Occo- 
 nestoga may stand excused for the part which he had taken against 
 his countrymen, whatever may have been the character of theii 
 cause, is a question not necessary for our consideration here. It is 
 certain that the degradation consequent upon his intemperance, 
 had greatly contributed towards blunting that feeling of nationality, 
 which is no small part of the honest boast of every Indian warrior. 
 Night had fairly shrouded the forest when the young chief 
 commenced his journey. But he knew the path, by night as by 
 day, with a familiarity begun in childhood. His ear, quick, keen, 
 and discriminating by his education, could distinguish between and 
 identify the movement of every native of the woodland cover. He 
 knew the slight and hurried rustle of the black snake, from the 
 slow, dignified sweep of the rattle ; and, drunk or sober, the bear 
 in the thicket, or the buck bounding along the dry pine-land ridge, 
 were never mistaken, one for the other, by our forest warrior. 
 These, as they severally crossed or lay in his path for the rattle- 
 snake moves at his own pleasure he drove aside or avoided ; and 
 when contradictory sounds met his ear, doubtful in character or 
 significant of some dangerous proximity, then would the warrior 
 sink down into the bush or under the cover of the fallen tree, or 
 steal away into the sheltering shadow of the neighbouring copse, 
 without so much as a breath or whisper. Such precautions as 
 these became more and more necessary as he drew nigher to the 
 homestead of his people. The traces of their presence thickened 
 momently around him. Now the torch flared across his eye, and 
 now the hum of voices came with the sudden gust ; and, more than 
 once, moving swiftly across his path, stole along a dusky figure like 
 his own, bent upon some secret quest, and watchful like himself to 
 avoid discovery. He too, perhaps, had been dimly seen in the 
 same manner not his features, for none in that depth of shadow in 
 which he crept could well have made them out ; but such partial 
 glances, though he strove to avoid all observation, he did not so 
 much heed, as he well knew that the thought of others, seeing 
 him, without ascertaining who he was, would be apt to assign him 
 a like pursuit with their own ; possibly, the nocturnal amour ; 
 pursued by the Yemassees with a fastidious regard to secrecy, not
 
 196 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 because of any moral reserve, but that such a pursuit savours of a 
 weakness unbecoming to manhood. 
 
 On a sudden he drew back from the way he was pursuing, and 
 sank under the cover of a gigantic oak. A torch flamed across 
 Ihe path, and a dusky maiden carried it, followed by a young war- 
 rior. They passed directly beside the tree behind which Occones- 
 toga had sought for shelter, and, at the first glance, he knew 
 Hiwassee, the young maiden who was to have filled his own lodge, 
 according to the expectations of the people But he had lost sight 
 of, and forgotten her in the practices which had weaned him from 
 his brethren and bound him to the whites. What were the affec 
 tions now to him? Yet he had regarded her with favour, and 
 though he had never formally proposed to break with her the 
 sacred wand of Checkamoysee,* which was to give her the title to 
 his dwelling and make her his wife, yet such had been the expec- 
 tation of his mother, her wish, and perhaps that of the damsel her- 
 self. He remembered this with a sad sinking of the heart. He 
 remembered what he had been, what were his hopes and pride ; 
 what had been the expectations, in regard to him, of his parents 
 and his people. It was with a bitter feeling of disappointment and 
 self-reproach, that he heard the proposition of love as it was made 
 to her by another. 
 
 " It is a brave chief, Hiwassee a brave chief that would have 
 you enter his lodge. The lodge of Echotee is ready for Hiwassee. 
 Look ! this is the stick of Checkamoysee ; break it, take it in thy 
 hands and break it, Hiwassee, and Echotee will quench the torch\ 
 which thou bearest in the running water. Then shalt thou be the/ 
 wife of a warrior, and the venison shall always be full in thy lodge. 
 Break the stick of Checkamoysee, Hiwassee, and be the wife of 
 Echotee." 
 
 And the dusky maiden needed little wooing. She broke the 
 stick, and as she did so, seizing the blazing torch with a ready 
 hand, Echotee hurried with it to a brook that trickled along at a 
 little distance, and in the next instant it hissed in the water, and 
 all was darkness. Without regarding what he was doing, or 
 
 * Checkamoysee, the Yemassee Hymen.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 197 
 
 thinking of his own risk, Occonestoga, in the absence of her ac- 
 cepted lover, could not forbear a word, something of reproach, 
 perhaps, in the ear of Hiwassee. She stood but a few paces oft, 
 under the shadow and on the opposite side of the same tree which 
 gave him shelter ; with the broken stick still in her hand in attes- 
 tation of her wild forest nuptial. What he said was unheard 
 save by herself, but she Gcreamed as she heard it ; and, hearing her 
 lover approach, and now duly conscious of his error, Occonestoga, 
 in the next moment, had darted away from the place of their tryst, 
 and was pursuing his route with all the vigour of a renewed and 
 resolute spirit. The sense of what he had lost for ever, seemed to 
 sting him into a sort of despairing energy which hurried him 
 recklessly onward. 
 
 At length he approached the town of Pocota-ligo, but, at first, 
 rarefully avoiding its main entrance, which was upon the river 
 particularly as the throng of sounds reaching his ears from thai 
 quarter indicated a still active stir he shot off circuitously into 
 the thicker woods, so as to come into the immediate neighbourhood 
 of his father's dwelling. From a neighbouring thicket, after a 
 little while, he looked down upon the cabin which had given a 
 birth-place and shelter to his infancy ; and the feeling of shame 
 grew strong in his bosom as he thought upon the hopes defeated 
 of his high-souled father, and of the affections thrown away of 
 the gentle mother, with whom, however mortified and fruitless, 
 they still continued to flourish for the outcast. Such thoughts, 
 however, were not permitted to trouble him long ; for, as he looked 
 ho beheld by the ruddy blaze of the pine torch which the boy 
 carried before him, the person of his father emerge from the lodge, 
 and take the well-known pathway leading to Pocota-ligo. If Oc- 
 conestoga had no other virtue, that of love for his mother was, to 
 a certain extent, sufficiently redeeming. His previous thoughts, 
 his natural feeling, prepared him, whatever the risk, to take ad- 
 vantage of the opportunity thus offered him. In another instant, 
 and the half penitent prodigal stood in the presence of Matiwan. 
 
 " Oh, boy Occonestoga thou art come thou art come. Tl-ou 
 rt not yet lost to Matiwan." 
 
 And she threw herself, with the exclamation, fondly, though but
 
 198 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 for a moment, upon his neck ; the next, recovering herself, she 
 spoke in hurried tones, full of grief and apprehension. 
 
 " Thou shouldst not come ! fly, boy fly, Occonestoga be a 
 swift bird, that the night has overtaken far away from his bush. 
 There is danger there is death not death there is a curse for 
 thee from Opitchi-Manneyto." 
 
 " Let not the grief stand in the eye of Matiwan. Occonestoga 
 fears not death. He has a song for the Manneyto of the blessed 
 valley ; the great warriors shall clap their hands and cry ' San- 
 garrah-me, Sangarrah-me, Yemassee.' when they hear. Let not 
 the grief stand in the eye of Matiwan." 
 
 " It is for thee, for thee, boy for thee, Occonestoga. The sorrow 
 of Matiwan is for thee. Thou hast been in this bosom, Occones- 
 toga, and thine eyes opened first, when the green was on the young 
 leaf and the yellow flower was hanging over the lodge in the 
 strength of the sun." 
 
 " Know I not the song of Enoree-Mattee, when the eyes of 
 Occonestoga looked up? Said he not under the green leaf, 
 under the yellow flower, the brave comes who shall have arrows 
 with wings and a knife that has eyes ? Occonestoga is here !" 
 
 " Matiwan was glad. Sauutee lifted thee to the sun, boy, and 
 begged for thee his beotns from the good Manneyto. The glad- 
 ness is gone, Occonestoga gone from Sanutee, gone from Mati- 
 wan, gone with tbeo. There fa no green on the leaf my eyes 
 look upon the yel' >w flowers no longer. Occonestoga, it is thou, 
 thou hast taken all this li^M from the eye of Matiwan. The 
 gladness and the light are goe." 
 
 " Matiwan tells no lie thin dog is Occonestoga." 
 
 Thus he began, sinking bnck into the humiliating consciousness 
 of his shame and degradation. But the gentle parent, tender even 
 in the utterance of the tr.'th, fearing she had gone too far, hastily 
 and almost indignantly interrupted him in the melancholy self- 
 condemnation he was uttering. 
 
 " No, no Occonestoga is no dog. He is a brave he is the 
 son of Sanutee, the vrell-beloved of the Yemassee. Occonestoga 
 has shut his eyes and gone upon the track of a foolish dream, but 
 he will wake with the sun, and Matiwan will see the green leaf
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 199 
 
 and t\ij yellow flower still hanging over the lodge of Sanutee ;" 
 and as she spoke she threw her arras about him affectionately, 
 while the tears came to the relief of her heart and flowed freely 
 town her cheeks. The youth gently but coldly disengaged her 
 clasp, and proceeded to seat himself upon the broad skin lying 
 upon the floor of the cabin ; when, aroused by the movement, and 
 with a return of all her old apprehensions, she thrust him from it 
 with an air of anxiety, if not of horror, and shutting her eyes upon 
 the wondering and somewhat indignant glance with which he now 
 surveyed her, she exclaimed passionately 
 
 " Go fly wherefore art thou here here in the lodge of 
 Sanutee thou, the accursed the " and the words stuck in her 
 throat, and, imarticulated, came forth chokingly. 
 
 " Is Matiwan mad has the fever-pain gone into her temples ?" 
 he asked in Astonishment. 
 
 " No, no, no not mad, Occonestoga. But thou art cast out 
 from the Yemassee. He does not know thee the young warriors 
 know thee not the chiefs know thee not Manneyto denies thee. 
 They have said thou art a Yemassee no longer. They have cast 
 thee out." 
 
 " The Yemassee is great, but he cannot deny Occonestoga. 
 Thou art mad, Matiwan. Look, woman, here is the broad arrow 
 of Yemassee upon the shoulder of a chief." 
 
 "It is gone it is gone from thee, Occonestoga. They have 
 sworn by Opitchi-Manneyto, that Malatchie, the Clublifter, shall 
 take it from thy shoulder." 
 
 The youth shrunk back, and his eyes started in horror, while 
 iiis limbs trembled with a sentiment of fear not often felt by. an 
 Indian warrior. In another instant, however, he recovered from 
 the stupor if not from the dread, wh'ich her intelligence occa- 
 sioned. 
 
 " Ha, Matiwan, thou hast no fork in thy tongue. Thou speakest 
 not to me with the voice of the Coonee-latee." 
 
 " Opitchi-Manneyto ! he hears the voice of Matiwan. The 
 Yemassee has doomed thee." 
 
 " They dare not they will not. I will go with them upon the 
 war-path against the Santee and the Seratee. I will take up the
 
 y 
 
 200 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 hatchet against the English. I will lead the young warriors to 
 battle. They shall know Occonestoga for a chief." 
 
 "Thou canst not, boy. They do not trust thee they have 
 doomed thee with the chiefs who sold the land to the English. 
 Has not Malatchie cut with the knife, and burnt away with fire 
 from their shoulders, the sacred and broad arrow of Yernassee, so 
 that we know them no more ? Their fathers and their sons know 
 them no more the mothers that, bore them know them 110 more 
 the other nations know them no more they cannot enter the 
 blessed valley of Manneyto, for Manneyto knows them not when 
 he looks for the broad arrow of Yemassee, and finds it not upon 
 their shoulders." 
 
 " Woman ! thou liest ! thou art hissing lies in my ears, like 
 the green snake, with a forked tongue. The Yemassee has not 
 done this thing as thou say'st." 
 
 The voice of the woman sank into a low and husky murmur, 
 and the always melancholy tones of the language of the red man, 
 grew doubly so in her utterance, as she replied in a stern rebuke, 
 'hough her attitude and manner were now entirely passionless : 
 
 " When has Matiwan lied to Occonestoga ? Occonestoga is a 
 dog when he speaks of Matiwan as the forked tongue." 
 
 " He is a dog if thou hast not lied, Matiwan. Say that thou 
 hast lied that thou hast said a foolish thing to Occonestoga. Say, 
 Matiwan, and the young arrow will be in thy hand even as the 
 long shoots of the tree that weeps. Thou shalt make him what 
 thou wilt." 
 
 With an expression the most humbled and imploring, and some- 
 thing more of warmth than is usually shown by the Indian war- 
 rior, the young chief took the hand of his mother, while uttering 
 an appeal, virtually apologizing for the harsh language he had 
 previously made use of. With the pause of an instant, and a 
 passionate melancholy, almost amounting to the vehemence of 
 despair, she replied : 
 
 " Matiwan does not lie. The Yemassee has said the doom, 
 which Enoree-Mattee, the prophet, brought from Opitchi-Manneyto. 
 Has not Malatchie cut from the shoulders of the chiefs and burnt 
 away with fire the broad arrow, so that never more may they be
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 20i 
 
 known by the Yemassee never more by the Manueytc ! The 
 doom is for thee, Occonestoga. It is true. There is no fork in 
 the tongue of Matiwan. Fly, boy fly, Occonestoga. It is thy 
 mother, it is Matiwan that prays thee to fly. M,atiwau would 
 not lose thee, Occonestoga, from the happy valley. Be the swift 
 arrow on the path of flight let them not see thee let them 
 not give thee to Malatchie." 
 
 Thus, passionately imploring him, the mother urged upon him 
 the necessity of flight. But, for a few minutes, as if stunned by 
 the intelligence which he could not now disbelieve, the young 
 warrior stood in silence, with down-bending head, the very per- 
 sonification of despair. Then, quickly and fully recovering, with 
 a kindling eye, and a manner well corresponding with his language, 
 he started forward, erectly, in his fullest height, and with the action 
 of a strong mood, for a moment assumed the attitude of that true 
 dignity, from which, in his latter days and habits, he had but too 
 much and too often departed. 
 
 " Ha ! Is Occonestoga an arrow that is broken ? Is he the old 
 tree across the swamp, that the dog's foot runs over? Has he no 
 strength has the blood gone out of his heart ? Has he no knife 
 where are the arrow and the tomahawk ? They are here I 
 have them. The Yemassee shall not hold me down when I sleep. 
 Occonestogji sleeps not. He will do battle against the Yemassee. 
 His knife shall" strike at the breast of Sanutee." 
 
 " Thou hast said a folly, boy Occonestoga, wouldst thou strike 
 at thy father ? " said the mother, sternly. 
 
 " His hatchet shook over the head of Occonestoga in the lodge 
 of council. He is the enemy of Occonestoga a bad thorn in the 
 path, ready for the foot that flies. I will slay him like a dog. He 
 shall hear the scalp-song of Occonestoga I will sing it in his 
 ears, woman, like a bird that comes with the storm, while I send 
 the long knife into his heart;" and fiercely, as he concluded this 
 speech, he chanted a passage of the famous scalp-song of th 
 Yemassee 
 
 " I go with the long knife, 
 On the path of my enemy 
 In the cover of the brake, 
 o*
 
 202 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 With the tooth of the war-rattle, 
 I strike the death into his heel 
 Sangarrah-me, Sangarrah-me. 
 1 hear him groan, I see him gasp, 
 . I tear his tliroat, I drink his blood, 
 He sings the song of his dying, 
 To the glory of Occonestoga." 
 
 " Ha ! thou hearest, Matiwan this will I sing for Sanutee when 
 my knee is upon his breast, when my knife is thick in his heart 
 when I tear the thin scalp from his forehead." 
 
 Thus, in a deep, fiercely impressive, but low tone, Occonestoga 
 poured forth in his mother's ears the fulness of his paroxysm, 
 in his madness attributing, and with correctness, the doom which 
 had been pronounced against him as coming from his father. In 
 that fierce and bitter moment he forgot all the ties of kindred, and 
 his look was that of the furious and fearful savage, already imbru- 
 ing his hands in parental blood. The horror of Matiwan, beyond 
 expression, could not, however, be kept from utterance : 
 
 " Thou hast drunk madness, boy, from the cup of Opitchi-Man- 
 neyto. The devil of the white man's prophet has gone into thy 
 heart. But thou art the child of Matiwan, and, though thou art 
 in a foolish path, it is thy mother that would save thee. Go fly, 
 Occonestoga keep on thy shoulder the broad arrow of Yemassee, 
 so that thy mother may not lose thee from the blessed valley of 
 Manneyto." 
 
 Before the young warrior, somewhat softened by this speech, 
 could find words to reply to it, his acute sense acute enough at 
 all times to savour of a supernatural faculty detected an ap- 
 proaching sound ; and, through an opening of the logs in the 
 dwelling, the flare of a torch was seen approaching. Matiwan, 
 much more apprehensive, with her anxieties now turned in a new 
 direction, went quickly to the entrance, nd returning instantly 
 with great alarm, announced the approach of Sanutee. 
 
 " He comes to the hatchet of Occonestoga," cried the youth 
 fiercely, his recent rage re-awakening. 
 
 " Wouldst thou slay Matiwan ? " was the reply, and the look, 
 the tone, the woHs were sufficient. The fierce spirit was quelled
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 203 
 
 and the youth suffered himself to follow quietly as she directed. 
 She led him to a remote corner of the lodge, which, piled up with 
 skins, furnished a fair chance and promise of security. With 
 several of these, as he stretched himself at his length, she r.on- 
 trived to cover him in such a manner as effectually to conceal him 
 from the casual observer. Having so done, she strove to resume 
 her composure in time for the reception of the old chief, whose 
 torch now blaaed at the entrance.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 44 They bind him, will they slay him That old nun, 
 Hi* father, will he look upon and see 
 The danger of his child, nor lift his voice, 
 Nor lend ftis arm to save him 1" 
 
 WITH a mind deeply taken up with the concerns of state, Sanu 
 tee threw himself upon the bearskin which formed a sort of carpel 
 in the middle of the lodge, and failed utterly to remark the dis- 
 composure of Matiwan, which, otherwise, to the keen glance of the 
 Indian, would not have remained very long concealed. She took 
 her seat at his head, and croned low and musingly some familiar 
 chant of forest song, unobtrusively, yet meant to soothe his ear. 
 He heard for this had long been a practice with her and a do- 
 mestic indulgence with him he heard, but did not seem to listen. 
 His mind was away busied in the events of the wild storm it had 
 invoked, and the period of which was rapidly approaching. But 
 there were other matters less important, that called for present 
 attention ; and, turning at length to his wife, and pointing at the 
 same time to the pile of skins that lay confusedly huddled up over 
 the crouching form of Occonestoga, he quietly remarked upon 
 their loose and disordered appearance. . The well-bred housewife 
 of a city might have discovered something of rebuke to her do- 
 mestic management in what he said on this subject ; but the mind 
 of Matiwan lost all sight of the reproach, in the apprehensions 
 which such a reference had excited. He saw not her disorder, 
 however, but proceeded to enumerate to himself their numbers, 
 sorts, and qualities, with a simple air of business; until, suddenly 
 .labouring, as it appeared, under some deficiency of memory, he 
 instructed her to go and ascertain the number of bearskins in the 
 collection. 
 
 " The Spanish trader will buy from Sanutee with the next sun. 
 Go, Matiwan."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 205 
 
 To hear was to obey ; and half dead with fear, yet rejoiced that 
 he had not gone himself, she proceeded to tumble about the skins, 
 with ready compliance, and an air of industry, the most praise- 
 worthy in an Indian woman. Her labour was lengthened, so 
 Sanutee seemed to think, somewhat beyond the time necessary to 
 enumerate a lot of skins not exceeding fifteen or twenty in number, 
 and with some little sternness at last he demanded of her the cause 
 >f the delay. Apprehensive that he would yet rise, and seek for 
 himself a solution of the difficulty, she determined, as she had not 
 yet ascertained, to guess at the fact, and immediately replied in 
 a representation which did not at all accord with the calculation of 
 the chief 'sown memory on the subject. The impatience of Occo- 
 nestoga, in the meantime, was not less than that of Sanutee. He 
 worried his mother not a little in his restlessness while she moved 
 about him ; and once, as she bent over him, removing this, and 
 replacing that, he seized upon her hand, and would have spoken, 
 but that so dangerous an experiment she would aot permit. But 
 she saw by his glance, and the settled firmness with which he 
 grasped bis hatchet, that his thought was that of defiance to his 
 lather, and a desire to throw aside the restraining cover of the skins, 
 and assert his manhood. She drew away from him rapidly, with a 
 finger uplifted as if in entreaty, while with one hand she threw over 
 him a huge bearskin, which nearly suffocated him, and which he 
 immediately, in part, threw aside. Sanutee, in the meantime, 
 seemed very imperfectly satisfied with the representation which she 
 had made, and manifesting some doubt as to the correctness of her 
 estimate, he was about to rise and look for himself into the matter. 
 But, in some trepidation, the wary Matiwan prevented him. 
 
 " Wherefore should the chief toil at the task of a woman ? 
 Battle for the chief wisdom in council for the chief; and the 
 seat under the big tree, at the head of the lodge, when the great 
 chiefs come to eat meat from his hands. Sit, well-beloved 
 wherefore should not Matiwan look for thee ? The toil of the 
 lodge is for Matiwan." 
 
 *' Sanutee will look, Matiwan the bearskin is heavy on thy 
 hands," was the considerate reply. 
 
 " Go not, look not " impatiently, rather too impatiently earnest.
 
 206 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 was the response of the woman ; sufficiently so to awaken sur- 
 prise, if not suspicion, in the mind of the old chief. She saw her 
 error in the next instant, and proceeding to correct it, without, at 
 the same time yieldjpg the point, she said : 
 
 " Thou art weary, chief all day long thou hast been upon th 
 track of toil, and thy feet need rest. Rest thee. Matiwan is here 
 why shouldst thou not repose ? Will she not look to the 
 skins ? She goes." 
 
 " Thou art good, Matiwan, but Sanutee will look with the eye 
 that is true. He is not weary as thou say'st. Cha ! " he 
 exclaimed, as she still endeavoured to prevent him " Cha ! Cha !" 
 impatiently putting her aside with the exclamation, and turning 
 to the very spot of Occonestoga's concealment. Hopeless of 
 escape, Matiwan clasped her hands together, and the beatings of 
 her heart grew more frequent and painful. Already his hands 
 were upon the skins, already had Occonestoga determined upou 
 throwing aside his covering and grappling with his fate like i 
 warrior, when a sudden yell of many voices, and the exciting 
 blood-cry of Yemassee battle, " Sangarrah-me, Sangarrah-me," 
 rang through the little apartment. Lights flared all around the 
 lodge, and a confused, wild, approaching clamour, as of many 
 voices, from without, drew the attention of all within, and diverted 
 Sanutee from a further search at that time, which must have 
 resulted in such a denouement as would have tried severely, if not 
 fatally, the several parties. But the respite afforded to Matiwan 
 was very brief. The cry from without was of startling significance 
 to the woman and her son. 
 
 " Sangarrah-me he is here the slave of Opitchi-Manneyto is 
 here." 
 
 And a general howl, with a direct call for Sanutee, brought the 
 old chief to the door of the lodge. It was surrounded by a crowd 
 of the red men, in a state of intense excitement. Before the old 
 chief could ask the purpose of their visit, and the cause of their 
 clamour, he had heard it from a score of voices. They came to 
 denounce the fugitive, they had tracked him to the lodge. The 
 indiscretion of Occonestoga when speaking in the ear of the 
 Indian maiden, Hiwassee, had brought about its legitimate con-
 
 THE VEMASSEE. 207 
 
 sequences. In her surprise, and accounting for the shriek she ga*ve, 
 she had revealed the circumstance to her lover, and it was not long 
 before he had again related it to another. The story flew, the 
 crowd increased, and, gathering excitement from numbers, they 
 rushed forward to the lodge of Matiwan, where, from his known 
 love to his mother, they thought it probable he would be. found, 
 to claim the doomed slave of Opitchi-Manneyto. The old chief 
 heard them with a stern and motionless calm of countenance; 
 then, without an instant of reflection, throwing open the door of 
 the lodge, he bade them enter upon the search for their victim. 
 
 The clamour and its occasion, in the meantime, had been 
 made sufficiently and fearfully intelligible to those within. Mati- 
 wan sank down hopelessly in a corner of the apartment, frfala Oc- 
 conestoga, with a rapid recovery of all his energies, throwing 
 aside his covering of skins, and rising from his place of con- 
 cealment, stood up once more, an upright and fearless Indian war- 
 rior. He freed the knife from its sheath, tightened the belt about 
 his waist, grasped the tomahawk in his right hand, and placing 
 himself conspicuously in the centre of the apartment, prepared 
 manfully for the worst. 
 
 Such was his position, when, leading the way for the pursuers 
 of the fugitive, Sanutee re-entered the cabin. A moment's glance 
 sufficed to show him the truth of the statement made him, and at 
 the same time accounted for the uneasiness of Matiwan, and her 
 desire to prevent his examination of the skins. He darted a severe 
 look upon her where she lay in the corner, and as the glance met 
 her own, she crept silently towards him and would have clasped 
 his knees ; but the ire of Sanutee was too deeply awakened, and, 
 regarding his profligate son, not merely in that character, but as 
 the chief enemy and betrayer of his country to the English, he 
 threw her aside, then approached and stretched forth his arm as if 
 to secure him. But Occonestoga stood on the defensive ; and with 
 a skill and power, which, at one time, had procured for him a high 
 reputation for warrior-like conduct, in a field where the competi- 
 tors were numerous, he hurled the old chief back upon the crowd 
 that^ followed him. Doubly incensed with the resistance thus 
 offered, Sanutee re-advanced with a degree of anger which excluded
 
 208 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 the cautious consideration of the true warrior, and as Ihe 
 approach was narrow, he re-advanced unsupported. The recollec- 
 tion of the terrible doom impending over his head the knowledge 
 of Sanutee's own share in its decree the stern denunciations of 
 his father in his, own ears, the fierce feeling of degraded pride 
 consequent upon his recent and present mode of life, and the 
 desperate mood induced by his complete isolation from all the 
 sympathies of his people, evinced by their vindictive pursuit of 
 him all conspired to make him the reckless wretch who would 
 rather seek than shrink from the contemplated parricide. His 
 determination was evident in the glance of his eye; and while he 
 threw back the tomahawk, so that the sharp pick on the opposite 
 end rested upon his right shoulder, and its edge lay alongside his 
 cheek, he muttered between his firmly set teeth, fragments of the 
 fearful scalp-song which he had sung in his mother's ear before. 
 
 " Sangarrah-me Sangarrah-me, 
 I hear him groan, I see him gasp, 
 I tear his throat, I drink his blood 
 Sangarrah-me Sangarrah-me." 
 
 But the fierce old chief, undiscouraged, roused by the insult he 
 had received by the defiance of his own son, sprang again towards 
 him. Even while he sang the bloody anthem of the Yemassee, 
 the fugitive, with desperate strength and feeling grappled the 
 father by his throat, crying aloud to him, as he shook the hatchet 
 in his eyes 
 
 u I hear thee groan I see thee gasp I tear thy throat I drink 
 thy blood ; for I know thee as mine enemy. Thou art not Sanutee 
 thou art not the father of Occonestoga but a black dog, sent on 
 his path to tear. Die, thou dog thou black dog die thus I 
 slay thee thus I slay thee, thou enemy of Occonestoga." 
 
 And, handling the old man with a strength beyond his power 
 to contend with, he aimed the deadly stroke directly at the eyes 
 of his father. But the song and the speech had aroused the yet 
 conscious but suffering Matiwan, and starting up from the ground 
 where she had been lying, almost between the feet of the cojnba 
 tauts, with uplifted hands she interposed, just as the fell direction
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 209 
 
 had been given to the weapon of her son. The piercing shriek 
 of that fondly cherishing mother went to the very bones of the 
 young warrior. Her interposition had the effect of a spell upon 
 him, particularly as, at the moment so timely for Sauntee had 
 been her interposition he who gave the blow could with diffi- 
 culty arrest the impulse with which it had been given, and which 
 must have made it a blow fatal to her. The narrow escape which 
 he had made, sent through the youth an unnerving chill and 
 shudder. The deadly instrument fell from his hand, and now 
 rushing upon him, the crowd drew him to the ground, and 
 taking from him every other weapon, pinioned his arms closely 
 behind him. He turned away with something of horror in his 
 countenance as he met the second gaze of his father, and his eyes 
 rested with a painful solicitude upon the wo-begone visage of Mati- 
 wan, who had, after her late effort, again sunk down at the feet of 
 Sanutee. He looked fondly, but sadly upon her, and, with a 
 single sentence addressed to her, he offered no obstacle while his 
 captors led him away. 
 
 " Matiwan " said he, ' thou hast bound Occonestoga for his 
 enemies. Thou hast given him up to Opitchi-Manneyto." 
 
 The woman heard no more, but, as they bore him off, she sank 
 down in momentary insensibility upon the spot where she had been 
 crouching through the greater part of the previous scene. Sanu- 
 tee, meanwhile, with much of the character of ancient Roman 
 patriotism, went forth with the rest, on the way to the council ; one 
 of the judges indeed the chief arbiter upon the destinies of his 
 son. There was no delay among the red men, in the work of justice. 
 The midnight was not less sacred than the sunlight, when the 
 victim was ready for the executioner.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The pain of death is nothing. To the chief, 
 The forest warrior, it is good to die 
 To die as he has lived, battling and hoarse, 
 Shouting a song of triumph. But to live 
 Under such doom as this, were far beyond 
 Even his stoic, cold philosophy." 
 
 IT was a gloomy amphitheatre in the deep forests to which the 
 assembled multitude bore the unfortunate Occonestoga. The whole 
 scene was unique in that solemn grandeur, that sombre hue, that 
 deep spiritual repose, in which the human imagination delights to 
 invest the region which has been rendered remarkable for the deed 
 of punishment or crime. A small swamp or morass hung upon 
 one side of the wood, from the rank bosom of which, in number- 
 less millions, the flickering fire-fly perpetually darted upwards, 
 giving a brilliance and animation to the spot, which, at that 
 moment, no assemblage of light or life could possibly enliven. 
 The ancient oak, a bearded Druid, was there to contribute to the 
 due solemnity of all associations the green but gloomy cedar, 
 the ghostly cypress, and here and there the overgrown pine, all 
 rose up in their primitive strength, and with an undergrowth 
 around them of shrub and flower, that scarcely, at any time, in 
 that sheltered and congenial habitation, had found it necessary to 
 shrink from winter. In the centre of the area thus invested, rose 
 a high and venerable mound, the tumulus of many preceding ages, 
 from the washed sides of which might now and then be seen pro- 
 truding the bleached bones of some ancient warrior or sage. A 
 circle of trees, at a little distance, hedged it in, made secure and 
 sacred by the performance there of many of their religious rites 
 and offices, themselves, as they bore the broad arrow of the 
 Yemassee, being free from all danger of overthrow or desecration 
 by Indian hands. 
 
 Amid the confused cries of the multitude, they bore the captive
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 211 
 
 to the foot of the tumulus, and bound h5in backward, half reclining 
 upon a tree. An hundred warriors stood around, armed according 
 to the manner of the nation, each with a tomahawk, and knife, 
 and bow. They stood up as for battle, but spectators simply, and 
 took no part in a proceeding which belonged entirely to the 
 priesthood. In a wider and denser circle, gathered hundreds mo:e 
 not the warriors, but the people the old, the young, the women, 
 and the children, all fiercely excited and anxious to see a ceremony, 
 so awfully exciting to an Indian imagination ; involving, as it did, 
 not only the perpetual loss of human caste and national considera- 
 tion, but the eternal doom, the degradation, the denial of, and the 
 exile from, their simple forest heaven. Interspersed with this latter 
 crowd, seemingly at regular intervals, and with an allotted labour 
 assigned them, came a number of old women, not unmeet repre- 
 sentatives, individually, for either of the weird sisters of the Scottish 
 Thane, 
 
 "So withered and so wild in their attire" 
 
 and, regarding their cries and actions, of whom we may safely 
 affirm, that they looked like any thing but inhabitants of earth ! 
 In their hands they bore, each of them, a flaming torch, of the 
 rich and gummy pine ; and these they waved over the heads of 
 the multitude in a thousand various evolutions, accompanying each 
 movement with a fearful cry, which, at regular jviiods, was cho- 
 russed by the assembled mass. A bugle, a native instrument of 
 sound, five feet or more in length, hollowed out from the com 
 monest timber the cracks and breaks of which were carefully 
 sealed up with the resinous gum oozing from their burning torches, 
 and which, to this day, borrowed from the natives, our negroes 
 employ on the southern waters with a peculiar compass and variety 
 of note was carried by one of the party, and gave forth at in 
 tervals, timed with much regularity, a long, protracted, single bhist, 
 adding greatly to the wild and picturesque character of the spec- 
 facle. At the articulation of these sounds, the circles continued to 
 contract, though slowly ; until, at length, but a brief space lay 
 between the armed warriors, the crowd, and the unhappy victim.
 
 212 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 The night grew dark of a sudden, and the skj was obscured by 
 one of the brief tempests that usually usher in the summer, and 
 mark the transition, in the south, of one season to another. A 
 wild gust rushed along the wood. The leaves were whirled over 
 the heads of the assemblage, and the trees bent downwards, until 
 they cracked and groaned again beneath the wind. A feeling of 
 natural superstition crossed the minds of the multitude, as the 
 hurricane, though common enough in that region, passed hur- 
 riedly along ; and a spontaneous and universal voice of chaunted 
 prayer rose from the multitude, in their own wild and emphatic 
 language, to the evil deity whose presence they beheld in its 
 progress : 
 
 "Thy wing, Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 It o'erthrows the tall trees 
 Thy breath, Opitchi-Manneyto, 
 Makes the waters tremble 
 Thou art in the hurricane, 
 When the wigwam tumbles 
 Thou art in the arrow-fire, 
 When the pine is shiverM 
 But upon the Yemassee, 
 Be thy coming gentle 
 Are they not thy well-beloved I 
 Bring they not a slave to thee f 
 Look I the slave is bound for thee, 
 Tis the Yemassee that brings him. 
 Pass, Opitchi-Manneyto 
 Pass, black spirit, pass from us 
 Be thy passage gentle." 
 
 And, as the uncouth strain rose at^the conclusion into a diapason 
 of unanimous and contending voices, of old and young, male and 
 female, the brief summer tempest had gone by. A shout of self- 
 gratulation, joined with warm acknowledgments, testified the 
 popular sense and confidence in that especial Providence, which 
 even the most barbarous nations claim as for eve.' working in their 
 behalf. * 
 
 At this moment, surrounde.1 by the chiefs, and preceded by the 
 great prophet or high-priest, Enoree-Mattee, came Sanutee, the
 
 THE TEMASSEE. 213 
 
 well-beloved of the Yemassee, to preside over the destinies of his 
 son. There was a due and becoming solemnity, but nothing cf the 
 jiefuliar feelings of the father, visible in his countenance. Blocks 
 of wood were placed around as seats for the chiefs, but Sanutee 
 ;md the prophet threw themselves, with more of imposing venera- 
 tion in the proceeding, upon the edge of the tumulus, just where 
 an overcharged spot, bulging out with the crowding bones of ite 
 inmates, had formed an elevation answering the purpose of couch 
 or seat. They sat, directly looking upon the prisoner, who re- 
 clined, bound securely upon his back to a decapitated tree, at a 
 little distance before them. A signal having been given, the 
 women ceased their clamours, and approaching him, they waved 
 their torches so closely above his head as to make all his features 
 distinctly visible to the now watchful and silent multitude. He 
 bore the examination with stern, unmoved features, which the 
 sculptor in brass or marble might have been glad to transfer to his 
 statue in the block. While the torches waved, one of the women 
 now cried aloud, in a barbarous chant, above him : 
 
 " la not this a Yemassee f 
 Wherefore is he bound thus 
 Wherefore, with the broad arrow 
 On his right arm growing, 
 Wherefore is he bound thus 
 Is not this a Yemassee ? 
 
 A second woman now approached him, waving her torch in like 
 manner, seeming closely to inspect his features, and a^,ually pass- 
 ing her fingers over the emblem upon his shoulder, as if to 
 ascertain more certainly the truth of the image. Having done 
 i his, she turned about to the crowd, and in the same barbarous 
 sort of strain with the preceding, replied as follows : 
 
 " It is not the Yemassee, 
 But a dog that runs away. 
 From his right arm take the arrow, 
 He is not the Yemassee." 
 
 As these words were uttered, the crowd of women and children 
 around cried out for the execution of the judgment thus given,
 
 214 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 and once again flamed the torches wildly, and the shoutings were 
 general among the multitude. When they had subsided, a huge 
 Indian came forward, and sternly confronted the prisoner. This 
 man was Malatchie, the executioner; and he looked the horrid 
 trade which he professed. His garments were stained and 
 smeared with blood and covered with scalps, which, connected 
 together by slight strings, formed a loose robe over his shoulders. 
 In one hand he carried a torch, in the other a knife. He came 
 forward, under the instructions of Enoree-Mattee, the prophet, to 
 claim the slave of Opitchi-Manneyto, that is, in our language, 
 the slave of hell. This he did in the following strain : 
 
 "Tis Opitchi-Manneyto 
 In Malatchie's ear that cries, 
 This is not the Yemassee 
 And the woman's word is true 
 He's a dog that should be mine, 
 I have hunted ipr him long. 
 From his master he had run, 
 With the stranger made his home, 
 Now I have him, he is mine 
 Hear Opitchi-Manneyto." 
 
 And, as the besmeared and malignant executioner howled his 
 fierce demand in the very ears of his victim, he hurled the knife 
 which he carried, upwards with such dexterity into the air, that 
 it rested, p^int downward, and sticking fast on its descent into 
 the tree and just above the head of the doomed Occonestoga. 
 With his hand, the next instant, he laid a resolute gripe upon the 
 shoulder of the victim, as if to confirm and strengthen his claim 
 ly actual possession ; while, at the same time, with a sort of 
 malignsfnt pleasure, he thrust his besmeared and distorted visage 
 close into the face of his prisoner. Writhing against the liga- 
 ments which bound him fast, Occonestoga strove to turn his 
 head aside from the disgusting and obtrusive presence ; and the 
 desperation of his effort, but that he had been too carefully secured, 
 might have resulted in the release of some of his limbs ; for the 
 bre:ist heaved and laboured, and every muscle of his arms and
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 215 
 
 gs was wrought, by his severe action, into so many ropes, hard, 
 full, and indicative of prodigious strength. 
 
 There was one person in that crowd who sympathized with the 
 victim. This was Hiwassee, the maiden in whose ears he had 
 uttered a word, which, in her thoughtless scream and subsequent 
 declaration of the event, when she had identified him, had been 
 the occasion of his captivity. Something of self-reproach for her 
 share in his misfortune, and an old feeling of regard for Occones- 
 toga, who had once been a favourite with the young of both sexes 
 among his people, was at work "in her bosom ; and, turning to 
 Echotee, her newly-accepted lover, as soon as the demand of 
 Malatchie had been heard, she prayed him to resist the demand. 
 In such cases, all that a warrior had to do was simply to join 
 issue upon the claim, and the popular will then determines the 
 question. Echotee could not resist an application so put to him, 
 and by one who had just listened to a prayer of his own, so all- 
 important to his own happiness ; and being himself a noble youth, 
 one who had been a rival of the captive in his better days, a feel- 
 ing of generosity combined with the request of Hiwassee, and he 
 boldly leaped forward. Seizing the knife of Malatchie, which 
 stuck in the tree, he drew it forth and threw it upon the ground, 
 thus removing the sign of property which the executioner had put 
 up in behalf of the evil deity. 
 
 " Occonestoga is the brave of the Yemassee," exclaimed the 
 young Echotee, while the eyes of the captive looked what his 
 lips could not have said. " Occonestoga is a brave of Yemas 
 see he is no dog of Malatchie. Wherefore is the cord upon the 
 limbs of a free warrior? Is not Occonestoga a free warrior of 
 Yemassee ? The eyes of Echotee have looked upon a warrior like 
 Occonestoga, when he took many scalps. Did not Occonestoga 
 l<>ad the Yemassee against the Savannahs ? The eyes of Echotee 
 !>aw him slay the red-eyed Snwannee, the great chief of the Sa- 
 vannahs. Did not Occonestoga go on the war-path with our 
 young braves against the Edistoes, the brown-foxes that came out 
 of the swamp ? The eyes of Echotee beheld him. Occonestoga 
 is a brave, and a hunter of Yemassee he is not the dog of Ma- 
 latchie. He knows not fear. He hath an arrow with wings, and 
 
 v/
 
 216 . THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 the panther he runs down in the chase. His tread is the tread of 
 a sly serpent that conies, so that he hears him not, upon the track 
 of the red deer, feeding down in the valley. Echotee knows the 
 warrior Echotee knows the hunter he knows Occonestoga, but 
 he knows no dog of Opitchi-Manneyto." 
 
 "He hath drunk of the poison drink of the pale-faces his feet 
 are gone from the good path of the Yemassee he would sell his 
 people to the English for a painted bird. He is the slave of Opit- 
 ehi-Manneyto," cried Malatchie, in reply. Echotee was not satisfied 
 to yield the point so soon, and he responded accordingly. 
 
 " It is true. The feet of the young warrior have gone away 
 from the good paths of the Yemassee, but I see not the weakness 
 of the chief, when my eye looks back upon the great deeds of the 
 warrior. I see nothing but the shrinking body of Suwannee under 
 the knee, under the knife of the Yemassee. I hear nothing but 
 the war-whoop of the Yemassee, when we broke through the camp 
 of the brown-foxes, and scalped them where they skulked in the 
 swamp. I see this Yemassee strike the foe and take the scalp, and 
 I know Occonestoga Occonestoga, the son of the well-beloved 
 the great chief of the Yemassee.'' 
 
 " It is good Occonestoga has thanks for Echotee -Echotee is 
 a brave warrior !" murmured the captive to his champion, in tones 
 of melancholy acknowledgment. The current of public feeling 
 began to set somewhat in behalf of the victim, and an occasional 
 whisper to that effect might be heard here and there among the 
 multitude. Even Malatchie himself looked for a moment as if he 
 thought it not improbable that he might be defrauded of his prey ; 
 and, while a free shout from many attested the compliment which 
 all were willing to pay to Echotee for his magnanimous defence of 
 one who had once been a rival and not always successful in 
 the general estimation, the executioner turned to the prophet and 
 to Sanutee, as if doubtful whether or not to proceed farther in his 
 claim. But all doubt was soon quieted, as the stern father rose 
 before the assembly. Every sound was stilled in expectation of his 
 words on this so momentous an occasion to himself. They waited 
 not long. The old man had tasked all the energies of- the patriot, 
 not less than of the stoic, and having once determined upon th
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 2L7 
 
 necessity of the sacrifice, lie had no hesitating tears or scruples 
 palsying his determination. He seemed not to regard the im- 
 ploring glance of his son, seen and felt by all besides in the as- 
 sembly ; but, with a voice entirely unaffected by the circumstances 
 of his position, he spoke forth the doom of the victim in confirma- 
 tion with that originally expressed. 
 
 " Echotee has spoken like a brave warrior with a tongue of 
 truth, and a soul that has birth with the sun. But he speaks out 
 of his own heart and does not speak to the heart of the traitor 
 The Yemassee will all say |pr Echotee, but who can say for Occo- 
 nestoga when Sanutee himself is silent? Does the Yeraassee 
 speak with a double tongue ? Did not the Yemassee promise 
 Occonestoga to Opitchi-Manneyto with the other chiefs ? Where are 
 they ? They are gone into the swamp, where the sun shines not, 
 and the eyes of Opitchi-Manneyto are upon them. He knows them 
 for his slaves. The arrow is gone from their shoulders, and the 
 Vemassee knows them no longer. Shall the dog escape, who led 
 the way to the English who brought the poison drink to the chiefs, 
 which made them dogs to the English and slaves to Opitchi-Man- 
 neyto ? Shall he escape the doom the Yemassee hath put upon 
 ',hem ? Sanutee speaks the voice of the Manneyto. Occonestoga 
 is a dog, who would sell his father who would make our women 
 to carry water for the pale-faces. He is not the son of Sanutee 
 Sanutee knows him no more. Look, Yemassees the well-be- 
 ioved has spoken !" 
 
 He paused, and turning away, sank down silently upon the little 
 hank on which he had before rested ; while Malatchie, without 
 further opposition for the renunciation of his own son by one so 
 highly esteemed as Sanutee, was conclusive against the youth 
 advanced to execute the terrible judgment upon his victim. 
 
 " Oh ! father, chief, Sanutee, the well-beloved !" was the cry 
 that now, for the first time, burst convulsively from the lips of the 
 prisoner " hear me, father Occonestoga will go on the war-path 
 with thee, and with the Yemassee against theEdisto, against the 
 Spaniard hear, Sanutee he will go with thee against the Eng- 
 lish." But the old man bent not yielded not, and the crowd 
 gathered nigher in the intensity of their interest 
 10
 
 218 THE YEMASSEfi. 
 
 "Wilt thou have no car, Sauutee ? it is Occonestoga it is the 
 BOU of Matiwan that speaks to thee." Sanutee's head sank as the . 
 reference was made to Matiwan, but he showed no other sign of 
 emotion. He moved not he spoke not and bitterly and hope- 
 lessly the youth exclaimed 
 
 " Oh ! thou art colder than the stone-house of the adder and 
 deafer than his ears. Father, Sanutee, wherefore wilt thou lose me, 
 2ven as the tree its leaf, when the storm smites it in summer ? 
 Save me, my father." 
 
 And his head sank in despair, as he beheld the unchanging 
 look of stern resolve with which the unbending sire regarded him. 
 For a moment he was unmanned : until a loud shout of derision \ 
 from the crowd, as they beheld the show of his weakness, came to \ 
 the support of his pride. The Indian shrinks from humiliation, 
 where he would not shrink from death ; and, as the shout reached 
 his ears, he shouted back his defiance, raised his head loftily in 
 air, and with the most perfect composure, commenced singing his 
 song of death, the song of many victories. 
 
 " Wherefore sings he his death-song ?" was the cry from many 
 voices, " he is not to die !" 
 
 " Thou art the slave of Opitchi-Manneyto," cried Malatchie to 
 the captive " thou shalt sing no lie of thy victories in the ear 
 of Yemassee. The slave of Opitchi-Manneyto has no triumph" 
 and the words of the song were effectually drowned, if not silenced, 
 in the tremendous clamour which they raised about him. It was 
 then that Malatchie claimed his victim the doom had been already 
 given, but the ceremony of expatriation and outlawry was yet to 
 follow, and under the direction of the prophet, the various castes 
 and classes of the nation prepared to take a final leave of one who 
 could no longer be known among them. First of all came a 
 band of young marriageable women, who, wheeling in a circle three 
 times about him, sang together a wild apostrophe containing a bitter 
 farewell, which nothing in our language could perfectly embody. 
 
 Go, thou hast no wife in Yemassee thou hast given no lodge 
 to the daughter of Yemassee thou hast slain no meat for thy 
 children. Thou hast no name the women of Yemassee know thee 
 uo more. They know thee no more."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 219 
 
 And the final sentence was reverberated from the entire assem- 
 bly- 
 
 14 They know thee no more they know thee no more." 
 
 Then came a number of the ancient men the patriarchs of the 
 nation, who surrounded him in circular mazes three several times, 
 singing as they did so a hymn of like import. 
 
 " Go thou sittest not in the council of Yemassee thou shalt 
 not speak wisdom to the boy that comes. Thou hast no name in 
 Yemassee the fathers of Yemassee, they know thee no more." 
 
 And again the whole assembly oriod out, as with one voice 
 " They know thee no more, they know thee no more." 
 
 These were followed by the young warriors, his old associates, 
 who now, in a solemn band, approached him to go through a like 
 performance. His eyes were shut as they came his blood was 
 chilled in his heart, and the articulated farewell of their wild chant 
 failed seemingly to reach his ear. Nothing but the last sentence 
 he heard 
 
 "Thou that wast a brother, 
 Thou art nothing now 
 The young warriors of Yemassee, 
 They know thee no more." 
 
 And the crowd cried with them " they know thee no more." 
 ' Is no hatchet sharp for Occonestoga ?" moaned forth the 
 suffering savage. But his trials were only then begun. Enoree- 
 Mattee now approached him with the words, with which, as the 
 representative of the good Manneytb, he renounced him, with 
 which he denied him access to the Indian heaven, and left him a 
 slave and an outcast, a miserable wanderer amid the shadows and 
 the swamps, and liable to all the dooms and terrors which come 
 with the service of Opitchi-Manneyto. 
 
 " Thou wast the child of Manneyto" 
 
 sung the high priest in a solemn chant, and with a deep-toned 
 voice that thrilled strangely amid the silence of the scene. 
 
 "Thou wast a child of Manneyto, 
 
 He gave thee arrows and au eye,
 
 220 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 Thou wast the strong son of Manneyto, 
 He gave thee feathers and a wing 
 Thou wast a young brave of Manneyto, 
 He gave thee scalps and a war-song 
 But he knows thee no more he knows thee no more." 
 
 And the clustering multitude again gave back the last line in wild 
 chorus. The prophet continued his chant : 
 
 " That Opitchi-Manneyto ! 
 He commands thee for his slave 
 And the Yemassee must hear him, 
 Hear, and give thee for his slave 
 They will take from thee the arrow, 
 The broad arrow of thy people 
 Thou shalt see no blessed valley, 
 Where the plurn-groves always bloom 
 Thou shalt hear no song of valour, 
 From the ancient Yemassee 
 Father, mother, name, and people, 
 Thou shalt lose with that broad arrow, 
 Thou art lost to the Manneyto 
 He knows thee no more, he knows thee no more." 
 
 The despair of hell was in the face of the victim, and he howled 
 forth, in a cry of agony, that, for a moment, silenced the wild 
 chorus of the crowd around, the terrible consciousness in his mind of 
 that privation which the doom entailed upon him. Every feature 
 was convulsed with emotion ; and the terrors of Opitchi-Manneyto's 
 dominion seemed already in strong exercise upon the muscles of 
 his heart, when Sanutee, the father, silently approached him, and 
 with a pause of a few moments, stood gazing upon the son from 
 whom he was to be separated eternally whom not even the 
 uniting, the restoring hand of death could possibly restore to him. 
 And he his once noble son the pride of his heart, the gleam of 
 his hope, the triumphant warrior, who was even to increase his 
 own glory, and transmit the endearing title of well-beloved, which 
 the Yemassee had given him, to a succeeding generation he was 
 to be lost for ever ! These promises were all blasted, and the father 
 was now present to yield him up eternally to deny him to forfeit 
 him, in fearful penalty to the nation whose genius he had wronged,
 
 TIJK YKMASSEE. 221 
 
 and whose rights he had violated. The old man stood for a 
 moment, rather, we may suppose, for the recovery of his resolu- 
 tion, than with any desire for the contemplation of the pitiable 
 form before him. The pride of the youth came back to him, 
 the pride of the strong mind in its desolation as his eye caugh f 
 the inflexible gaze of his unswerving father ; and he exclaimed 
 bitterly and loud : 
 
 " Wherefore art thou come thou hast been my foe, not my 
 father away I would not behold thee !" and he closed his eyes 
 after the speech, as if to relieve himself from a disgusting presence. 
 
 " Thou hast said well, Occonestoga Sanutee is thy foe he is 
 not thy father. To say this in thy ears has he come. Look on 
 him, Occonestoga look up, and hear thy doom. The young and 
 the old of the Yemassee the warrior and the chief, they have 
 all denied thee all given thee up to Opitchi-Manneyto ! Occones- 
 toga is no name for the Yemassee. The Yemassee gives it to his 
 dog. The prophet of Manneyto has forgotten thee thou art 
 unknown to those who were thy people. And I, thy father with 
 this speech, I yield thee to Opitchi-Manneyto. Sanutee is no 
 longer thy father thy father knows thee no more" and once 
 more came to the ears of the victim that melancholy chorus of the 
 multitude " He knows thee no more he knows thee no more." 
 Sanutee turned quickly away as he had spoken; and, as if he 
 suffered more than he was willing to show, the old man rapidly 
 hastened to the little mound where he had been previously sitting, 
 his eyes averted from the further spectacle. Occonestoga, goaded 
 to madness bv these several incidents, shrieked forth the bitterest 
 execrations, until Enoree-Mattee, preceding Malatchie, again ap- 
 proached. Having given some directions in an under-tone to the 
 latter, he retired, leaving* the executioner alone with his victim. 
 Malatchie, then, while all was silence in the crowd a thick 
 silence, in which even respiration seemed to be suspended pro- 
 ceeded to his duty ; and, lifting the feet of Occonestoga carefully 
 from the ground, he placed a log under them then addressing 
 him. as he again bared his knife which he stuck in the tree above 
 his head, he sung
 
 222 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " I take from tliee the earth of Yemassee 
 I take from thee the water of Yemassee- 
 I take from thee the arrow of Yemassee- 
 Thou art no longer a Yemassee 
 The Yemassee knows thee no more." 
 
 " The Yemassee knows thee no more," cried the multitude, ano 
 their universal shout was deafening upon the ear. Occonestoga 
 said no word now he could offer no resistance to the unnerving 
 hands of Malatchie, who now bared the arm more completely of 
 its covering. But his limbs were convulsed with the spasms of 
 that dreadful terror of the future which was racking and raging in 
 every pulse of his heart. He had full faith in the superstitions of 
 his people. His terrors acknowledged the full horrors of their 
 doom. A despairing agony, which no language could describe, 
 had possession of his soul. Meanwhile, the silence of all indicated 
 the general anxiety ; and Malatchie prepared to seize the knife 
 and perform the operation, when a confused murmur arose from 
 the crowd around ; the mass gave way and parted, and, rushing 
 wildly into the area, came Matiwan, his mother the long black 
 hair streaming the features, an astonishing likeness to his own, 
 convulsed like his ; and her action that of one reckless of all things 
 in the way of the forward progress she was making to the person 
 of her child. She cried aloud as she came with a voice that 
 rang like a sudden death-bell through the ring 
 
 "Would you keep the mother from her boy, and he to be lost 
 to her for ever ? Shall she have no parting with the young brave 
 she bore in her bosom ? Away, keep me not back I will look 
 upon, I will love him. He shall have the blessing of Matiwan, 
 though the Yemassee and the Manneyto curse." 
 
 The victim heard, and a momentary* renovation of mental life, 
 perhaps a renovation of hope, spoke out in the simple exclamation 
 which fell from his lips 
 
 " Oh, Matiwan oh, mother ! ' 
 
 She rushed towards the spot where she heard his appeal, and 
 thrusting the executioner aside, threw her arms desperately about 
 his neck.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 225 
 
 1'wuch hirn not, Matiwan," was the ger *ral cry from the crowd 
 " Touch him not, Matiwan Manneyto biows him no more." 
 
 "But Matiwan knows him th mother knows her child, 
 though the Manneyto denies him. Oh, boy oh, boy, boy, boy." 
 And she sobbed like an infant on his neck. 
 
 u Thou art come, Matiwan thou art come, but wherefore ? to 
 curse like the father to curse like the Manneyto ? " mournfully 
 said the captive. 
 
 " No, no, no I Not to curse not to curse. When did mother 
 curse the child she bore ? Not to curse, but to bless thee. To 
 bless thee and forgive." 
 
 " Tear her away," cried the prophet ; " let Opitchi-Manneyto 
 have his slave." 
 
 " Tear her away, Malatchie," cried the crowd, now impatient for 
 the execution. Malatchie approached. 
 
 " Not yet not yet," appealed the woman. " Shall not the 
 mother say farewell to the child she shall see no more ? " and she 
 waved Malatchie back, and in the next instant drew hastily from 
 the drapery of her dress a small hatchet, which she had there care- 
 t'ully concealed. 
 
 " What wouldst thou do, Matiwan ? " asked Occonestoga, as his 
 eye caught the glare of the weapon. 
 
 u Rave thee, my boy save thee for thy mother, Occonestoga 
 save thee for the happy valley." 
 
 " Wouldst thou slay me, mother wouldst strike the heart of 
 thy son 3 " he asked, with a something of reluctance to receive 
 death from the hands of a parent. 
 
 "I strike thee but to save thee, my son: since they cannot 
 take the totem from thee after the life is gone. Turn away from 
 me thy head let me not look upon thine eyes as I strike, lest my 
 hands grow weak and tremble. Turn thine eyes away -I will not 
 lose thee." 
 
 His eyes closed, and the fatal instrument, lifted above her head, 
 was now visible in the sight of all. The executioner rushed for- 
 ward to interpose, but he came too late. The tomahawk was 
 driven deep into the skull, and but a single sentence from his lips 
 preceded the final insensibility of the victim.
 
 224 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " It is good, Matiwan, it is good thou hast saved me 'the 
 death is in my heart." And back he sank as he spoke, while a 
 shriek of mingled joy and horror from the lips of the mother 
 announced the success of her effort to defeat the doom, the most 
 dreadful in the imagination of the Yemassoe. 
 
 " He is not lost he is not lost. They may not take the child 
 from his mother. They may not keep him from the valley of Man- 
 neyto. He is free lie is free." And she fell back in a deep 
 swoon into the arms of Sanutee, who by this time had approached. 
 She had defrauded Opitchi-Manneyto of his victim, for they may 
 not remove the badge of the nation from any but the living victim.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 For love and war are twins, and both are made 
 Of a strange passion, which misleads the sense, 
 And makes the feeling madness. Thus they grow, 
 The thorn and flower together, wounding oft 
 When most seductive." 
 
 SOME men only live for great occasions. They sleep in the 
 calm but awake to double life, and unlocked for activity, in the 
 tempest. They are the zephyr in peace, the storm in war. They' 
 smile until you think it impossible they should ever do otherwise, 
 and you are paralyzed when you behold the change which an hour 
 brings about in them. Their whole life in public would seem a 
 splendid deception ; and. as their minds and feelings are generally 
 beyond those of the great mass which gathers about, and in the 
 end depends upon them, so they continually dazzle the vision and 
 distract the judgment of those who passingly observe them. 
 Such men become the tyrants of all the rest, and, as there are two 
 kinds of tyranny in the world, they either enslave to cherish or 
 to destroy. 
 
 Of this class was Harrison, erratic, daring, yet thoughtful, 
 and not to be measured by such a mind as that of the pastor 
 Matthews. We have seen his agency a leading agency in much 
 of the business of the preceding narrative. It was not an agency 
 of the moment, but of continued exertion, the result of a due 
 recognition of the duties required at his hands. Nor is this agency to 
 \K discontinued now. He is still busy, and, under his direction and 
 with his assistance, the. sound of the hammer, and the deep echo 
 of the axe, in the hands of Granger, the smith, and Hector, were 
 heard without intermission in the Block House, " closing rivets up/ 
 and putting all things in a state of preparation for those coming 
 dangers to the colony, which his active mind had predicted. He 
 \vas not to be deceived by the thousand shows which are apt to 
 deceive others. He looked more deeply into principles and the 
 10*
 
 226 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 play of moods in other men, than is the common habit ; and 
 while few of the borderers estimated with him the amount of dan- 
 ger and difficulty which he felt to be at hand, he gave himself not 
 the slightest trouble in considering their vague speculations, to 
 which a liberal courtesy might have yielded the name of opinions. 
 His own thoughts were sufficient for him ; and while this indiffer- 
 ence may seem to have been the product of an excessive self-esteem, 
 we shall find in the sequel that, in the present case, it arose from 
 a strong conviction, the legitimate result of a calm survey of 
 objects and actions, and a cool and deliberate judgment upon them. 
 We have beheld some of Harrison's anxieties in the strong mani- 
 festation which be gave to Occonestoga, when he despatched the 
 unfortunate young savage as a spy, on an adventure which had 
 found such an unhappy and unlooked-for termination. Entirely 
 ignorant of the event, it was with no small impatience that his 
 employer waited for his return during the entire night and the 
 better portion of the ensuing day. The distance was not so great 
 between the two places, but that the fleet-footed Indian might have 
 readily overcome it in a night ; giving him sufficient allowance of 
 time also for all necessary discoveries ; and, doubtless, such would 
 have been the case but for his ill-advised whisper in the ear of 
 Hiwassee, and the not less ill-advised visit to the cottage of Mati- 
 wan. The affection of the mother for the fugitive and outlawed 
 son, certainly, deserved no less acknowledgment ; but, while it 
 merited the most grateful returns, such as the young chief, what- 
 ever might have been his faults and vices, yet cheerfully and fondlv 
 gave her the indiscreet visit was sadly in conflict with the best 
 policy of the warrior. His failure the extent yet unknown to 
 Harrison left the latter doubtful whether to ascribe it to his mis- 
 fortune, or to treachery ; and this doubt contributed greatly to his 
 solicitude. In spite of the suggestions of.Granger, who knew that 
 bad faith was not among the vices of the young warrior, he could 
 not help suspecting him of deserting from the English cause as the 
 only means by which to secure himself a reinstatement in the con- 
 fidence of his people ; and this suspicion, while it led to new 
 preparations for the final issue, on the part of Harrison, was fruitful, 
 at the same time, of exaggerated anxiety in his mind. To much of
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 227 
 
 the drudgery of hewing and hammering, therefore, he subjected 
 himself with the rest ; and, though cheerful in its performance, 
 the most casual observer could have readily seen how much station 
 and education had made him superior to such employments. 
 Having thus laboured for some time, he proceeded to other parts 
 of his assumed duties, and, at length, mounting his steed, a 
 favourite and fine chestnut and followed by Dugdale, who had 
 been carefully muzzled, he took his way, in a fleet gallop, through 
 the intricacies of the surrounding country. . 
 
 The mystery was a singular one which hung over Harrison in all 
 that region. It was strange how people loved him how popular 
 he had become, even while in all his individual relations and ob- 
 jects so perfectly unknown. He had somehow won golden opinions 
 from all the borderers, wild, untameable, and like the savages, as 
 in many cases they were ; and the utmost confidence was placed 
 in his opinions, even when, as at this time was the case, they 
 happened to differ from the general tenor of their own. This 
 confidence, indeed, had been partially given him, in the first 
 instance, from the circumstance of his having taken their lead sud- 
 denly, at a moment of great danger and panic ; when all were 
 stricken with terror but himself; and none knew what to do, and 
 no one undertook to guide. Then it was, that, with an audacity 
 that looked like madness (but which is the best policy in time of 
 peril), he fearlessly led forth a small party, taking the initiative, in 
 an encounter with the Coosaws. This was a reduced but brave and 
 desperate tribe, which had risen, without any other warning than the 
 war-whoop, upon the Beaufort settlement. His valour on this occa 
 M>n, obtained from the Indians themselves the nom de guerre of Coo- 
 nuh-morat/-/e, or the Coosaw-killer. It was one that seems to have been 
 well deserved, for, in that affair, the tribe nearly suffered annihilation, 
 and but a single town, that of Coosaw-hatchie, or the refuge of the 
 Coosaws, was left them of all their possessions. The poor remains 
 of their people from that time became incorporated with the Ye- 
 massees. Harrison's reckless audacity, cheerful freedom, mingled at 
 the same time so strangely with playfulness and cool composure, 
 while exciting the strongest interest, created the warmest regard 
 among the foresters ; and, though in all respects of residence ami
 
 228 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 family utterly unknown except to one, or at the most, to two 
 among them appearing as he did, only now and then, and as 
 suddenly disappearing yet all were glad when he came, and sor- 
 ry when he departed. Esteeming him thus, they gave him the 
 command of the " green jackets," the small corps which, in 
 that neighbourhood, the affair of the Coosaws had first brought into 
 something like a regular organization. He accepted this trust 
 readily, but frankly assured his men that he might not be present 
 such were his labours elsewhere at all times to discharge the 
 duties. Such, however, was his popularity .among them, that a 
 qualification like this failed to affect their choice. They took him 
 on his own terms, called him Captain Harrison, or, more familiarly, 
 captain, and never troubled themselves for a single instant to 
 inquire whether that were his right name or not ; though, if they 
 had any doubts, they never suffered them to reach, certainly never 
 to offend, the ears of their commander. The pastor, rather more 
 scrupulous, as he reflected upon his daughter, and her affections, 
 lacked something of this confidence. We have seen how his doubts 
 grew as his inquiries had been baffled. The reader, if he has not 
 been altogether inattentive to the general progress of the narrative, 
 has probably, at this moment, a more perfect knowledge of our 
 liero than either *of these parties. 
 
 But to return. Harrison rode away into the neighbouring 
 country, all the settlements of which he appeared perfectly tc 
 know. His first visit in that quarter had been the result of curi 
 osity in part, and partly in consequence of some public responsibi- 
 lities coming with an official station, as by this time the reader 
 will have conjectured. A new and warmer interest came with 
 these duties soon after he had made the acquaintance of the beau- 
 tiful Bess Matthews ; and having involved his own affections with 
 that maiden, it was not long before he found himself able to com- 
 mand hers. The father of Miss Matthews objected, as we have 
 seen, not simply because nothing was certainly known of the family 
 and social position of the lover; but because the latter had by his 
 free bearing and perfect aplomb, outraged the self-esteem and dig- 
 nity of the clerical dignitary. But love seldom seriously listens tc 
 the objections o^ a papa ; and though Bess Matthews was as duti-
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 229 
 
 All a damsel as ever dreamed of happiness, still her affections were 
 a litlJe too strong for parental authority. She loved Gabriel Har- 
 rison with a faith which preferred to confide where the pasto- 
 required that she should question ; and the exhortations of the old 
 gentleman had only the effee , of increasing a passion which grows 
 vigorous from restraint, and acquires obstinacy from compulsion. 
 
 But the lover went not forth on this occasion in quest of his 
 mistress. His labours were more imposing, if less grateful. He 
 went forth among his troop and their families. He had a voice of 
 warning for all the neighbouring cottagers a warning of danger, 
 and an exhortation to the borderers to be in perfect readiness for its 
 encounter, at the well-known signal. But his warning was in a word 
 an emphatic sentence which, once utterred, affected in no par- 
 ticular his usual manner. To one anl another he had the cheerful 
 encouragement of the brother soldier the dry sarcasm for the 
 rustic gallant the innocuous jest to the half-won maiden; and, 
 with the ancient grandsire or grandam, the exciting inquiry into 
 old times merry old England, or hilarious Ireland or whatever 
 other foreign fatherland might claim to possess their affections. 
 
 This adjusted, and having prepared all minds for events which 
 his own so readily foresaw having counselled the more exposed 
 and feeble to :ne shelter of the Block House at the first sign of 
 danger, the lover began to take the place of the commander, and 
 a an hour we find him in the ancient grove the well-known 
 place of tryst, in the neighbourhood of the dwelling of old 
 Matthews. And she was there the girl of seventeen confiding, 
 yet blushing at her own confidence, with an affection as warm as 
 it was unqualified and pure. She hung upon his arm she sat 
 beside him, and the waters of the little brooklet gushed into music 
 is they trickled on by their feet. The air was full of a song of 
 love the birds sang it the leaves sighed it the earth echoed, 
 in many a replication, its delicious burden, and they felt it. There 
 is no life, if there be no love. Love is the life of nature all is 
 unnatural without it. The golden bowl has no wine, if love be not 
 at its bottom the instrument has- no music if love come not with
 
 230 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 the strain. " Let me perish, let me perish," was the murmured chant 
 of Harrison, " when I cease to love when others cease to love me." 
 
 So thought the two so felt they and an hour of delicious 
 dreaming threw into their mutual souls a linked hope, which* 
 promised not merely a future and a lasting union to their forms, 
 but an undecaying life to their affections. They felt in reality tha 
 love must be ^the life of heaven ! 
 
 "Thou unmann'st me, Bess thou dost, my Armida the air is 
 enchanted about thee, and the active energy which keeps me ever 
 in motion when away from thee, is gone, utterly gone, when thou 
 art nigh. I could now lie down in these delicious groves, and 
 dream away the hours dream away life. Do nothing but dream i 
 Wherefore is it so ? Thou art my tyrant I am weak before thee 
 full of fears, Bess timid as a child in the dark." 
 
 " Full of hopes too, Gabriel, is it not ? And what is the hope if 
 there be no fear no doubt ? They sweeten each other. I thy 
 tyrant, indfeed when thou movest me as thou wiliest. When I 
 have eyes only for thy coming, and tears only at thy departure." 
 
 " And hast thou these always, Bess, for such occasions ? Do 
 thy smiles always hail the one, and thy tears always follow the 
 other 2 I doubt, Bess, if always." 
 
 " And wherefore doubt thou hast eyes for mine, and canst see 
 for thyself." 
 
 " True, but knovvest thou not that the lover looks most com- 
 monly for the beauty, and not often for the sentiment of his 
 sweetheart's face ? It is this which they mean when the poets tell 
 of love's blindness. The light of thine eye dims and dazzles the 
 gaze of mine, arid I must take the tale from thy lips " 
 
 "And safely thou mayest, Gabriel " 
 
 " May I I hardly looked to find thee so consenting, Bess " 
 exclaimed the lover, taking her response in a signification rather 
 at variance with that which she contemplated, and, before she was 
 aware, warmly pressing her rosy mouth beneath his. own. 
 
 " Not so not so " confused and blushing she exclaimed, with- 
 drawing quickly from his grasp. " I meant to say " 
 
 * T know I know, thou wouldst have said, I mignt safely trust
 
 THE TEMASSEE. 23 1 
 
 to the declaration of thy lips and so I do, Bess and want 
 no other assurance. I am happy that thy words were indirect, 
 but I am better assured as it is, of what thou wouldst have said." 
 
 " Thou wilt not love me, Gabriel, that thus I favour thee thou 
 seest how weak is the poor heart which so waits upon thine, and 
 wilt cease to love what is so quickly won." 
 
 " It is so pretty, thy chiding, Bess, that to have thee go on, it 
 were well to take another assurance from thy lips." 
 
 ' Now, thou shalt not it is not right, Gabriel ; besides my father 
 has said " 
 
 " What he should not have said, and will be sorry for saying. 
 He has said that he knows me not, and indeed he does not, and 
 shall not, so long as in my thought it is unnecessary, and perhaps 
 unwise that I should be known to him." 
 
 " But, why not to me why shouldst thou keep thy secret from 
 me, Gabriel ? Thou couldst surely trust it to my keeping." 
 
 " Aye, safely, I know, were it proper for thee to know any thing 
 which a daughter should of right withhold from a father. But as 
 I may not give my secret to him, I keep it from thee ; not fearing 
 thy integrity, but as thou shouldst not hold a trust without sharing 
 thy confidence with a parent. Trust me, ere long he shall know 
 all ; but now, I may not tell him or thee. I may not speak a name 
 in this neighbourhood, where, if I greatly err not, its utterance 
 would make me fine spoil for the cunning Indians, who are about 
 some treachery." 
 
 " What, the Yemassees ?" 
 
 " Even they, and of this I would have you speak to your father. 
 I would not foolishly alarm you, but go to him. Persuade him to 
 depart for the Block House, where I have been making preparations 
 for your comfort. Let him only secure you all till this vessel takes 
 herself off. By that time we shall see how things go." 
 
 " But what has this vessel to do with it, Gabriel ?" 
 
 " A great deal, Bess, if my apprehensions are well grounded ; 
 but the reasons are tedious by which I come to think so, and 
 would only fatigue your ear." 
 
 " Not so, Gabriel I would like to hear them, for of this vessel,
 
 232 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 or rather of her captain, my father knows something. He knew 
 him well in England." 
 
 " Aye !" eagerly responded Harrison " I heard that, you know ; 
 but, in reality, what is he ? who is he ?" 
 
 " His name is Chorley, as you have heard him say. My father 
 knew him when both were young. They come from the same 
 part of the country. He was a wild, ill-bred profligate, so my 
 father said, in his youth ; unmanageable, irregular left his parents, 
 and without their leave went into a ship and became a sailor. For 
 many years nothing was seen of him by my father at least until 
 the other day, when, by some means or other, he heard of us, and 
 made himself known just before your appearance. I never saw 
 him to know or remember him before, but he knew me when a 
 child." 
 
 " And do you know what he is and his vessel ?" 
 
 " Nothing but this. He makes voyages from St Augustine and 
 Cuba, and trades almost entirely with the Spaniards in that 
 quarter." 
 
 " But why should he have no connexion here with us of that 
 nature, or why is he here at all if his business be not with our 
 people ? And it seems that he hath no traffic with us no com- 
 munion for us, though he doth apparently commune with the red 
 men. This is one of the grounds of my apprehension not to 
 speak of the affair of Hector, which is enough of itself to prove 
 him criminal of purpose." 
 
 " Ah his crew is ignorant of the language, and then he says, so 
 he told us, he seeks to trade for furs with the Indians." 
 
 " Still not enough. None of these reasons are sufficient to keep 
 his vessel from the landing, his men from the shore, and himself 
 mysteriously rambling in the woods without offering at any object, 
 unless it be the smuggling of our slaves. I doubt not he comes to 
 deal with the Indians, but he comes as an emissary from the Spa- 
 niards, and it is our skins and scalps he is after, if any thing." 
 
 " Speak not so, Gabriel, you frighten me." 
 
 "Nay, fear not. There is no danger if we keep our eyes open, 
 and can get your obstinate old precisian of a father to open his."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 233 
 
 " Hush, Gabriel, remember he is my father." And she looked 
 the rebuke which her lips uttered. 
 
 " Aye, Bess, I do remember it, or I would not bother my head 
 five seconds about him. I should gather you up in my arms as 
 the Pagan of old gathered up his domestic gods when the earth- 
 quake came, and be off with you without long deliberating whe- 
 ther a father were necessary to your happiness or not." 
 
 " Speak not so lightly, Gabriel, the subject is too serious foi 
 jest." 
 
 " It is, Bess, quite toe serious for jest, and I do not jest, or if I 
 do I can't help it. I was born a jester, after a fashion. That is to 
 say, I am somewhat given to mixing my laughter with my sorrows; 
 and my wisdom, if I have any, is always mingled with my smiles, 
 without, I trust, forfeiting any of its own virtue by the mixture. 
 This, indeed, is one of your father's objections to me as your suitor. 
 He thinks me irreverent when I am only cheerful. I do not tie up 
 my visage when I look upon you, as if I sickened of the thing I 
 looked on and he well knows howl detest that hypocritical moral 
 starch, with which our would-be saints contrive to let the world 
 see that sunshine is sin, and a smile of inborn felicity a defiance 
 thrown in the teeth of the very God that prompts it." 
 
 " But my father is no hypocrite, Gabriel." 
 
 " Then why hoist his colours ? He is too good a man, Bess, to 
 be the instrument of hypocrisy, and much I fear me that he some- 
 times is. He has too much of the regular roundhead the genu- 
 ine, never-end-the-sermon manner of an old Noll sanctifier. I 
 would forego a kiss the sweetest, Bess, that thy lips could give 
 to persuade the old man, your father, but for a single moment, into 
 a hearty, manly, honest, unsophisticated, downright laugh. A man 
 that can laugh out honestly and heartily is not wholly evil, I am 
 sure.' 1 
 
 " It is true, Gabriel, he laughs not, but then he does not frown." 
 
 " Not at thee, Bess, not at thee : who could ? But he does at me, 
 most ferociously, and his mouth puckers up when his eye rises to 
 mine, in all the involutions of a pine bur. But forgive me : it is 
 not of this I would speak now. I will forgive, though I may not 
 forget his sourness, if you can persuade him into a little caution at
 
 234 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 the present moment. There is danger, I am sure, and to him *nd 
 you particularly. Your situation here is an exposed one. This 
 sailor-friend or acquaintance of yours, is no friend if he deal with 
 the Spaniards of St. Augustine ; is most certainly an enemy, and 
 most probably a pirate. I suspect him to be the latter, and hav 
 my eyes on him accordingly. As to the trade with the Indians 
 that he talks of, it is all false, else why should he lie here so many 
 days without change of position or any open intercourse with 
 them ? And then, what better evidence against him than the kid- 
 napping of Hector ?" 
 
 " But he has changed his position his vessel has gone higher 
 up the river." 
 
 " Since when ?" 
 
 " Within the last three hours. Her movement was pointed out 
 by my father as we stood together on the bluff fronting the 
 house." 
 
 " Indeed, this must be seen to, and requires despatch. Come 
 with me, Bess. To your father at once, and say your strongest 
 fears and look your sweetest loves. Be twice as timid as necessary, 
 utter a thousand fears and misgivings, so that we may persuade 
 him to the shelter of the Block House." 
 
 " Where I may be as much as possible in the company of Master 
 Gabriel Harrison. Is it not so?" and she looked up archly into 
 his face. For once the expression of his look was grave, and his 
 eye gazed deeply down into her own. With a sobriety of manner 
 not unmixed with solemnity, he spoke 
 
 " Ah, Bess, if I lose thee, I am myself lost ! But come with me, 
 I will see thee to the wicket, safe, ere I leave thee, beyond the pro- 
 vince of the rattlesnake." 
 
 " Speak not of that," she quickly replied, with an involuntary 
 shudder, looking around her as she spoke, to the neighbouring 
 wood, which was now more than ever present to her mind, with the 
 memories of that scene of terror. Harrison conducted her to the 
 end of the grove, within sight of her father's cottage, and his last 
 words at leaving her were those of urgent entreaty, touching hei 
 removal to the Block House.
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 "Away ! thou art the slave of a base thought, 
 And hast no will of truth. I scorn thee now, 
 With my whole soul, as once, with my whole oul, 
 I held thee worthy." 
 
 BUT Bess Matthews was not left to solitude, though left by hei 
 lover. A new party came upon the scene, in the person of Hugh 
 Grayson, emerging from the neighbouring copse, from the cover of 
 which he had witnessed the greater portion of the interview between 
 Harrison and the maiden. This unhappy young man, always a 
 creature of the fiercest impulses, in a moment of the wildest deli- 
 rium of that passion for Bess which had so completely swallowed 
 up his better judgment, not less than all sense of high propriety, 
 had been guilty, though almost unconscious at the time of the wo- 
 ful error, of a degree of espionage, for which, the moment after, he 
 felt many rebukings of shame and conscience. Hurried on, how- 
 ever, by the impetuous impulse of the passion so distracting him, 
 the fine sense, which should have been an impassable barrier, rising 
 up like a wall in the way of such an act, had foregone its better 
 control for the moment, and he had lingered sufficiently long under 
 cover to incur the stigma, as he now certainly felt the shame, of 
 having played the part of a spy. But his error had its punishment 
 even in its own progress. He had seen that which contributed 
 still more to increase his mortification, and to embitter his soul 
 against the more successful rival, whose felicities he had beheld 
 scarcely able to clench the teeth in silence which laboured all the 
 while to gnash in agony. With a cheek in which shame and a 
 purposeless fury alike showed themselves, and seemed struggling 
 for mastery, he now came forward ; and approaching the maiden, 
 addressed her as he did so with some common phrase of formal 
 courtesy, which had the desired effect of making her pause for 
 bis approach. He steeled his 'quivering muscles into something
 
 236 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 like rigidity, while a vain and vague effort at a smile, like light 
 ning from the cloud, strove visibly upon his features. 
 
 " It is not solitude, then," said he, " that brings Miss Matthews 
 into the forest. Its shelter its secrecy alone, is perhaps its highest 
 recommendation." 
 
 " What is it that you mean, Master Grayson, by your words ?" re- 
 plied the maiden, while something of Ablush tinged slightly the 
 otherwise pale and lily complexion of her face. 
 
 "Surely I have spoken nothing mysterious. My thought is 
 plain enough, I should think, were my only evidence in the cheek 
 of Miss Matthews herself." 
 
 " My cheek speaks nothing for me, Master Grayson, which my 
 tongue should shame to utter ; arid if you have spoken simply in 
 reference to Gabriel Master Harrison I mean you have been at 
 much unnecessary trouble. Methinks too, there is something in 
 your own face that tells of a misplaced watchfulness on your part, 
 where your neighbour holds no watch to be necessary." 
 
 " You are right, Miss Matthews you are right. There is - 
 there should be, at least in my face, acknowledgment enough of 
 the baseness which led me as a spy upon your path upon his 
 path !" replied the young man, while his cheek grew once more 
 alternately from ashes to crimson. " It was base, it was unmanly 
 but it has had its punishment its sufficient punishment, believe 
 me in the discovery which it has made. I have seen that, Miss 
 Matthews, which I would not willingly have seen ; and which the 
 fear to see, alone, prompted to the accursed survey. Pardon me, 
 then pity me, pity if you can though I can neither well pardon 
 nor pity myself." 
 
 "I do pardon you, sir freely pardon you for an error which I 
 should not have thought it in your nature intentionally to commit; 
 Out what to pity you for, saving for the self-reproach which must 
 come with your consciousness, I do not so well see. Your language 
 is singular, Master Grayson." 
 
 " Indeed ! Would I could be so blind ! You have not seen, 
 t h eil you know not ? Look at me, Miss Matthews is there no 
 madness in my eyes on my tongue in look, word, action ! 
 Have I not raved in your ears never ?"
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 237 
 
 "No, as I live, never!" responded the astonished maiden. 
 "Speak not in this manner, Master Grayson but leave me 
 permit me to retire." 
 
 " What ! you would go to him once more !" he uttered with a 
 sarcastic grin. " You would follow him ! Recal him ! Hear me, 
 Bess Matthews. Do you know him this stranger this adven- 
 turer this haughty pretender, whose look is presumption ? 
 Would you trust to him you know not ? What is he ? Can you 
 confide in one whom nobody speaks for whom nobody knows? 
 Would you throw yourself upon ruin into the arms of a stranger 
 a " 
 
 "Sir, Master Grayson this is a liberty " 
 
 " License, rather, lady 1 The license of madness ; for I am mad, 
 though you see it not an abandoned madman ; degraded, as you 
 have seen, and almost reckless of all things and thoughts, as all 
 may see in time. God ! is it not true ?_ True it is, and you 
 you. Bess Matthews you are the cause." 
 
 " I ? " replied the maiden, in unmixed astonishment. 
 
 " Aye, you. Hear me. I love I loved you, Miss Matthews 
 have long loved you. We have been together almost from infancy ; 
 and 1 had thought forgive the vanity of that thought, Bess 
 Matthews I had thought that you might not altogether have 
 been unkind to me. For years I had this thought did you not 
 know it? for years I lived on in the sweet hope the dear promise 
 which it hourly brought me for years I had no life, if I had not 
 this expectation ! In an evil hour came this stranger thin 
 Harrison it is not long since and from that moment T trembled. 
 It was an instinct that taught me to fear, who had never feared 
 before. I saw, yet dreaded to believe in what I saw. I suspected, 
 and shrunk back in terror from my own suspicions. But they 
 haunted me like so many damned spectres. They were everywhere 
 around me, goading me to madness. In my mood, under this 
 spur, I sunk into the spy. I became degraded, and saw all all ! 
 I saw his, lip resting upon yours warmly, passionately and 
 yours, yours grew to its pressure, Bess Matthews, and did not 
 seek to be withdrawn." 
 
 "No more of this, Master Grayson thou hast thought strange
 
 238 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 and foolish things, and though they surprise me, I forgive tlem 
 I forgive thee. Thou hadst no reason to think that I was more to 
 thee than to a stranger, that I could be more and I feel not any 
 self-reproach, for 1 have done naught and said naught which 
 could have ministered to thy error. Thy unwise, not to say thy 
 unbecoming and unmanly curiosity, Master Grayson, makes me 
 the less sorry that thou shouldst know a truth which thou findest 
 so painful to know." 
 
 "Oh, be less proud less stern, Bess Matthews. Thou hast 
 taken from this haughty stranger some of his bold assumption of 
 superiority, till thou even forgettest that erring affection may have 
 its claim upon indulgence." 
 
 " But not upon justice. I am not proud thou dost me wrong, 
 Master Grayson, and canst neither understand me nor the noble 
 gentleman of whom thy words are disrespectful." 
 
 " And what is he, thatJ should respect him ? Am I not as free 
 a man, an honest man and what is he more, even if he be 
 so much ? Is he more ready to do and to -dare for thee ? Is he 
 stronger ? Will he fight for thee ? Ha ! if he will ! " 
 
 " Thou shalt make me no game-prize, even in thy thought, 
 Master Grayson and thy words are less than grateful to my ears. 
 Wilt thou not leave me ? " 
 
 " Disrespectful to him, indeed a proud and senseless swaggerer, 
 presuming upon his betters. I " 
 
 " Silence, sir ! think what is proper to manhood, and try to 
 appear that which thou art not," exclaimed the aroused maiden, 
 in a tone which completely startled her companion, while she 
 gathered herself up to her fullest height, and waved him off with 
 her hand. " Go, sir thou hast presumed greatly, and thy words 
 are those of a ruffian, as thy late conduct has been that of the 
 hireling and the spy. Thou think that 1 loved thee ! that I 
 thought of a spirit so ignoble as thine ; and it is such as thou 
 that wouldst slander and defame my Gabriel, he, whose most 
 wandering thought could never compass the tithe of that baseness 
 which makes up thy whole soul." 
 
 And as she spoke words of such bitter impoi </, her eye flashed 
 and the beautiful "lips curled in corresponding indignation, while
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 23S 
 
 her entire expression of countenance was that of a divine rebuke. 
 The offender trembled with convulsive and contradictory emotions, 
 and, for a few moments after her retort had been uttered, remained 
 utterly speechless. He felt the justice of her severity, though 
 every thought and feeling, in that instant, taught him how un- 
 equal he was to sustain it. He had, in truth, spoken without 
 clear intent, and his language had been in no respect under the 
 dominion of reason. But he regained his energies as he beheld 
 her, with an eye still flashing fire and a face covered with inex- 
 pressible dignity, moving scornfully away. He recovered, though 
 with a manner wild and purposeless his hands and eyes lifted 
 imploringly and chokingly, thus addressed her : 
 
 " Leave me not not in anger, Bess Matthews, I implore you. 
 I have done you wrong done him wrong, perhaps; and I am 
 bitterly sorry ! " it was with a desperate rapidity that he uttered 
 the last passage " I have spoken unjustly, and like a madman. 
 But forgive me. Leave me not with an unforgiving thought, since, 
 in truth, I regret my error as deeply as you can possibly reprove it." 
 
 Proud and lofty in her sense of propriety, the affections of Bess 
 Matthews were, nevertheless, not less gentle than her soul was 
 high. She at once turned to the speaker, and the prayer was 
 granted by her glance, ere her lips had spoken. 
 
 " I do I do forgive thee, Master Grayson, in consideration of 
 the time when we were both children. But thou hast said bitter 
 words in mine ear, which thoii wilt not hold it strange if I do not 
 over-soon forget. But doubt not that I do forgive thee ; and 
 pray thee for thy own sake for thy good name, and thy duty to 
 thyself and to the good understanding which thou hast, and the 
 honourable feeling which thou shouldst have, that thou err not 
 again so sadly. Greatly do I sorrow that thou shouldst waste thy 
 thoughts on me thy affections. Recover them, I pray thee, and 
 find some one more worthy and more willing to requite thy love." 
 
 He seized her hand convulsively, gave it a swift, hard pressure, 
 then resigned it as suddenly, and exclaimed 
 
 * I thank thee ! I thank thee ! " he rushed away, and was SOOD 
 buried from sight in the adjacent thicket.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIIT. 
 
 " Thus human reason, ever confident, 
 Holds its own side half erring and half right- 
 Not tutored by a sweet humility, 
 That else might safely iteer." 
 
 BRED up amid privation, and tutored as much by its necessities 
 as by a careful superintendence, Bess Matthews was a girl of 
 courage, not less than of feeling. She could endure and enjoy ; 
 and the two capacities were so happily balanced in her character, 
 that, while neither of them invaded the authority of the other, 
 they yet happily neutralized any tendency to excess on either side. 
 Still, however, her susceptibilities were great ; for at seventeen the 
 affections are not apt to endure much provocation ; and, deeply 
 distressed with the previous scene, and with that gentleness which 
 was her nature, she grieved sincerely at the condition of a youth, of 
 whom she had heretofore thought so favourably but not to such a 
 degree as to warrant the hope which he had entertained, and cer- 
 tainly without having held out to him any show of encourage 
 ment she re-entered her father's dwelling, and immediately pro- 
 ceeded to her chamber. Though too much excited by her thoughts 
 to enter with her father upon the topic suggested by Harrison, and 
 upon which he had dwelt with such emphasis, she was yet strong 
 and calm enough for a close self-examination. Had she said or 
 done anything which might have misled Hugh Grayson ? This 
 was the question which her fine sense of justice not less than of 
 maidenly propriety, dictated for her answer; and with that close 
 and calm analysis of her own thoughts and feelings, which must 
 always be the result of a due acquisition of just principles in 
 education, she jeferred to all those unerring standards of ffie 
 mind which virtue and common sense establish, for the satisfaction 
 of her conscience, against those suggestions of doubt with which
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 241 
 
 ner feelings had assailed it, on the subject of her relations with that 
 person. Her feelings grew more and more composed as the scru- 
 tiny progressed, and she rose at last from the couch upon which she 
 had thrown herself, with a heart lightened at least of the care 
 which a momentary doubt of its own propriety had inspired. 
 
 There was another duty to perform, which also had its difficul- 
 ties. She sought her father in the adjoining chamber, and if sjie 
 blushed in the course of the recital, in justice to maidenly delicacy, 
 she at least did not scruple to narrate fully in his ears all the 
 particulars of her recent meeting with Harrrison, with a sweet 
 regard to maidenly truth. We do not pretend to say that she 
 dwelt upon details, or gave the questions and replies the musings 
 and th'i madnesses of the conversation for Bess had experience 
 enougl' to know that in old ears, such matters are usually tedious 
 enou#)' and in this respect, they differ sadly from young ones. 
 She m' de no long story of the meeting, though she freely told the 
 whole and with all her warmth and earnestness, as Harrison had 
 counselled, she proceeded to advise her father of the dangers from 
 the f^dians, precisely as her lover had counselled herself. 
 
 T^e old man heard, and was evidently less than satisfied with 
 the frequency with which the parties met. He had not denied 
 Bess this privilege he was not stern enough for that ; and, 
 possibly, knowing his daughter's character not less than her heart, 
 he was by no means unwilling to confide freely in her. But still 
 he exhorted, in good set but general language, rather against 
 Harrison than with direct reference to the intimacy between the 
 two. He gave his opinion on that subject too, unfavourably to the 
 habit, though without uttering any distinct command. As he 
 went on and warmed with his own eloquence, his help-mate, an 
 excellent old l;>dy, who loved her daughter too well to see her 
 tears and be silent joined freely in the discourse, and on the 
 opposite side of the question : so that, on s small scale, we art- 
 favoured with the glimpse of a domestic flurry, a slight summer 
 gust, which ruffles to compose, and irritates to smoothe and pacify. 
 Rough enough for a little while, it was happily of no great con- 
 tinuance ; for the old people had lived too long together, and were 
 quite too much dependent on their mutual sympathies, to suffer 
 11
 
 242 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 themselves to piay long at cross purposes. In ceasing to squabble, 
 however, Mrs. Matthews gave up no point ; and was too much 
 interested in the present subject readily to forego the argument 
 upon it. She differed entirely from her husband with regard to 
 Harrison, and readily sided with her daughter in favouring his 
 pretensions. He had a happy and singular knack of endearing 
 himself to most people ; and the very levity which made him 
 distasteful to the pastor, was, strange to say, one of the chief 
 influences which commended him to his lady. 
 
 " Bess is wrong, my dear," at length said the pastor, in a tone 
 and manner meant to be conclusive on the subject "Bess is 
 wrong decidedly wrong. We know nothing of Master Harrison 
 neither of his family nor of his pursuits and she should not 
 encourage him." 
 
 " Bess is right, Mr. Matthews," responded the old lady, with a 
 doggedness of manner meant equally to close the controversy, as 
 she wound upon her fingers, from a little skreel in her lap, a small 
 volume of the native silk.* " Bess is right Captain Harrison is 
 a nice gentleman always so lively, always so polite, and so pleas- 
 ant. I declare, I don't see why you don't like him, and it must be 
 only because you love to go against all other people." 
 
 * The culture of silk was commenced in South Carolina as far back as 
 the year 1702, and thirteen years before the date of this narrative. It 
 was introduced by Sir Nathaniel Johnston, then holding the government of 
 the province under the lords proprietors. This gentleman, apart from his 
 own knowledge of the susceptibility, for its production, of that region, 
 derived a stimulus to the prosecution of the enterprise from an exceeding 
 great demand then prevailing in England for the article. The spontaneous 
 and free growth of the mulberry in all parts of the southern country first 
 led to the idea that silk might be made an important item in the improv- 
 ing list of its products. For a time he had every reason to calculate upon 
 the entire success of the experiment, but after a while, the pursuit not be- 
 coming immediately productive, did not consort with the impatient nature 
 of the southrons, and was given over when perhaps wanting but little 
 o complete success. The experiment, however, was prosecuted sufficiently 
 long to show, though it did not become an object of national importance, 
 how much might, with proper energy, be done towards making it such. Of 
 late days, a new impulse has been given to the trial, and considerable quu* 
 titles of silk are annually made in the middle country of South Carolina.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 24.3 
 
 " And so, ray dear," gently enough responded the pastor, " von 
 n'ould have Bess married to a nobody knows who or what." 
 
 " Why, dear me, John what is it you don't know ? I'm sure 
 I know everything I want to know about the captain. His name's 
 Harrison and " 
 
 " What more ? " inquired the pastor with a smile, seeing that 
 the old lady had finished her silk and speech at the same moment. 
 
 " Why nothing, John but what we do know, you will admit, 
 is highly creditable to him ; and so, I do not see why you should 
 be so quick to restrain the young people, when we can so easily 
 require to know all that is necessary before we consent, or any 
 decisive step is taken." 
 
 " But, my dear, the decisive step is taken when the affections of 
 our daughter are involved." 
 
 The old lady could say nothing to this, but she had her word. 
 
 " He is such a nice, handsome gentleman, John." 
 
 " Handsome is as handsome does 1 " sneered the pastor, through 
 a homely proverb. 
 
 " Well, but John, he's in no want of substance. He has money, 
 good gold in plenty, for I've seen it myself and I'm sure that's a 
 sight for sore eyes, after we've been looking so long at the brown 
 paper that the Assembly have been printing, and which they call 
 money. Gold now is money, John, and Captain Harrison always 
 has it." 
 
 " It would be well to know where it comes from," doggedly 
 muttered the pastor. 
 
 " Oh, John, John where's all your religion ? How can you 
 talk so ? You are only vexed now I'm certain that's it because 
 Master Harrison won't satisfy your curiosity." 
 
 "Elizabeth!" 
 
 " Well, don't be angry now, John. I didn't mean that exactly, 
 but really you are so uncharitable. It's neither sensible nor 
 Christian in you. Why will you be throwing up hills upon hills 
 in the way of Bess's making a good match ? " 
 
 " Is it a good match., Elizabeth ? that is 4he very poini 
 makes me firm." 
 
 M Stubborn, you mean."
 
 244 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 "Well, perhaps so, Elizabeth, but stubborn I will be until it i 
 shown to be a good match, and then he may have her with all my 
 heart. It is true, I love not his smart speeches, which are some- 
 limes quite too free ; and not reverend and scarcely respectful. 
 But 1 shall not mind that, if I can find out certainly who he is, 
 and that he comes of good family, and does nothing disreputable. 
 Remember, Elizabeth, we come of good family ourselves old 
 England can't show a better ; and we must be careful to do it no 
 discredit by a connection for our child." 
 
 " That is all true and very sensible, Mr. Matthews, and I agree 
 with you whenever you talk to the point. Now you will admit, I 
 think, that I know when a gentleman is a gentleman, and when 
 he is not and I tell you that if Master Harrison is not a gentle- 
 man, then give me up, and don't mind my opinion again. I don't 
 want spectacles to see that he comes of good family and is a 
 gentleman." 
 
 "Yes, your opinion may be right; but still it is opinion only 
 not evidence ; and, if it be wrong what then ? The evil will be 
 past remedy." 
 
 " It can't be wrong. When I look upon him, I'm certain so 
 graceful and polite, and then his dignity and good-breeding." 
 
 " Good-breeding, indeed !" and this exclamation the pastor ac- 
 companied with a most irreverend chuckle, which had in it a touch 
 of bitterness. " Go to your chamber, Bess, my dear," he said turn- 
 ing to his daughter, who, sitting in a corner rather behind her 
 mother, with head turned downwards to the floor, had heard the 
 preceding dialogue with no little interest and disquiet. She obeyed 
 the mandate in silence, and when she had gone, the old man 
 resumed his exclamation. 
 
 " Good-breeding, indeed ! when he told me, to my face, that he 
 would have Bess in spite of my teeth." 
 
 The old lady now chuckled in earnest, and the pastor's brow 
 gloomed accordingly. 
 
 " Well, I declare, John, that only shows a fine-spirited fellow. 
 Now, as I live, if I were a young man, in the same way, and were 
 to be crossed after this fashion, I'd say the same thing. That I 
 would. I tell you, John, I see no harm in it, and my memory't
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 45 
 
 jgood, John that you had some of the same spirit in our young 
 days." 
 
 " Your memory's quite too good, Elizabeth, and the less you let 
 it travel back the better for both of us," was the somewhat grave 
 response. " But T have something to say of young Hugh Hugh 
 Grayson, I mean. Hugh really loves Bess I'm certain quite as 
 much as your Captain Harrison. Now, we know him ?" 
 
 " Don't speak to me of Hugh Grayson, Mr. Matthews for it'a 
 no use. Bess don't care a straw for him." 
 
 " A fine, sensible young man, very smart, and likely to do 
 well." 
 
 "A sour, proud upstart idle and sulky who does nothing, 
 though, as we all know, he's got nothing in the world." 
 
 " Has your Harrison any more ?" 
 
 " And if he hasn't, John Matthews let me tell you at least 
 he's a very different person from Hugh Grayson, besides being 
 born and bred a gentleman." 
 
 " I'd like to know, Elizabeth, how you come at that fact, that 
 you speak it so confidently." 
 
 u Leave a woman alone for finding out a gentleman bred from 
 one that is not ; it don't want study and witnesses to tell the dif- 
 ference betwixt them. We can tell at a glance." 
 
 "Indeed! But I see it's of no use to talk with you DOW. You 
 are bent on having things all your own way. As for the man, I 
 believe you are almost as much in love with him as your daughter." 
 And this was said with a smile meant for compromise ; but the old 
 lady went on gravely enough for earnest. 
 
 " And it's enough to make me, John, when you are running him 
 down from morning to night, though you know we don't like it. 
 But that's neither here nor there. His advice is good, and he 
 certainly means it for our safety. Will you do as Bess said, and shall 
 we go to the Block House, till the Indians become quiet again ?" 
 
 " His advice, indeed ! You help his plans wondrously. But I 
 see through his object if you do not. He only desires us at the 
 Block House, in order to be more with Bess than he possibly can 
 be at present. He is always there, or in the neighbourhood." 
 
 "And you are sure, John, there's no danger from the Indians?"
 
 246 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 
 
 "None, none in the world. They are as quiet as they well can 
 be, under the repeated invasion of their grounds by the borderers, 
 who are continually hunting in their woods. By the way, I must 
 speak to young Grayson on the subject. He is quite too frequently 
 over the bounds, and they like him not." 
 "Well, well but this insurrection, John?" 
 " Was a momentary commotion, suppressed instantly by the old 
 chief Sanutee, who is friendly to us, and whom they have just 
 made their great chief, or king, in place of Huspah, whom they 
 deposed. Were they unkindly disposed, they would have destroyed, 
 and not have saved, the Commissioners." 
 
 "But Harrison knows a deal more of the Indians than any 
 body else ; and then they say that Sanutee himself drove Granger 
 out of Pocota-ligo." 
 
 " Harrison says more than he can unsay, and pretends to more 
 than he can ever know ; and I heed not his opinion. As for the 
 expulsion of Granger, I do not believe a word of it." 
 
 " I wish, John, you would not think so lightly of Harrison. 
 You remember he saved us when the Coosaws broke out. His 
 management did everything then. Now, don't let your ill opinion 
 of the man stand in the way of proper caution. Remember, John, 
 . your wife your child." 
 
 " I do, Elizabeth ; but you are growing a child yourself." 
 " You don't mean to say I'm in my dotage I" said the old lady, 
 quickly and sharply. 
 
 " No, no, not that," and he smiled for an instant " only, that 
 your timidity does not suit your experience. But I have thought 
 seriously on the subject of this threatened outbreak, and, for 
 myself, can see nothing to fear from the Yemassees. There is 
 nothing to justify these suspicions of Master Harrison. On the 
 contrary, they have not only always been friendly heretofore, but 
 l hey appear friendly now. Several of them, as you know, have 
 processed to me a serious conviction of the truth of those divine 
 lessons which I have taught them ; and when I know this, it would 
 be a most shameful desertion of my duty were I to doubt thosg 
 solemn avowals which they have made, through my poor instru- 
 mentality, to the Deity."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 247 
 
 "Well, John, I hope you are right, and that Harrison is wrong; 
 though, I confess, I'm dubious. To God I leave it to keep us from 
 evil : in his hands there are peace and safety." 
 
 " Amen, amen !" fervently responded the pastor, as he spoke to 
 his retiring dame, who, gathering up her working utensils, was 
 about to pass into the adjoining chamber ; but lingered, as the 
 Parson followed her with a few more last words. 
 
 " Amen, Elizabeth though, I must say, the tone of your 
 expressed reliance upon God has still in it much that is doubting 
 and unconfiding. Let us add to the prayer one for a better mood 
 along with the better fortune." 
 
 Here the controversy ended; the old lady, as her husband 
 alleged, still unsatisfied, and the preacher himself not altogether 
 assured in his own mind that a lurking feeling of hostility to 
 Harrison, rather than a just sense of his security, had not -deter- 
 mined him to risk the danger from the Indians, in preference to * 
 bettei lope of security in the shelter of the Block House.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 4 1 must dare all myself. I cannot dare 
 Avoid the danger. There is in my soul, 
 That which may look on death, but not oil 
 
 As soon as his interview was over with Bess Matthews, Harrisoa 
 hurried back to the Block House. He there received intelligent 
 confirming that which she had given him, concerning the move- 
 ments of Chorley and his craft. The strange vessel had indeed 
 taken up anchors and changed her position. Availing herself of 
 a favouring breeze, she had ascended the river, a few miles nigher 
 to the settlements of the Yemassees, and now lay fronting the left 
 wing of the pastor's cottage; the right of it, as it stood upon the 
 jutting tongue of land around which wound the river, she had 
 before fronted from below. The new position could only have 
 been chosen for the facility of intercourse with the Indians, which, 
 from the lack of a good landing on this side of the river, had been 
 wanting to her where she originally lay. In addition to this 
 intelligent Harrison learned that which still further quickened 
 his anxieties. . The wife of Granger, a woman of a calm, stern, 
 t-nergetic disposition, who had been something more observant than 
 her husband, informed him that there had been a considerable 
 intercourse already between the vessel and the Indians since her 
 remove that their boats had been around her constantly during 
 the morning, and that boxes and packages of sundry kinds had 
 been carried from her to the shore ; individual Indians, too, had 
 been distinguished walking her decks ; a privilege which, it was 
 well known, had been denied to the whites, who had not been 
 permitted the slightest intercourse with the stranger. All this 
 confirmed the already active apprehensions of Harrison. He could 
 no longer doubt of her intentions, or of the intentions of the 
 Yemassees ; yet, how to proceed how to prepare on whom to
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 249 
 
 rely in what quarter to look for the attack, and what was the 
 extent of the proposed insurrection ? was it partial, or general ? 
 Did it include the Indian nations generally twenty-eight of which, 
 at that time, occupied the Carolinas or was it confined to the 
 Yemassees and Spaniards? and if the latter were concerned, were 
 they to be looked for in force, and whether by land or by sea ? 
 These were the multiplied questions, and to resolve them was the 
 great difficulty in the way of Harrison. That there were now 
 large grounds for suspicion, he could no longer doubt ; but how to 
 proceed in arousing the people, and whether it were necessary to 
 arouse the colony at large, or only that portion of it more imme- 
 diately in contact with the Indians and how to inform them in 
 time for the crisis which he now felt was at hand, and which might 
 involve the fate of the infant colony all depended upon the 
 correctness of his acquired information ; and yet his fugitive spy 
 came not back, sent no word, and might have betrayed his mission. 
 The doubts grew with their contemplation. The more he thought 
 of the recent Yemassee discontents, the more be dreaded to think. 
 He knew that this discontent was not confined to the Yemassee. 
 but extended even to the waters of the Keowee and to the Apala- 
 chian mountains. The Indians had suffered on all sides from the 
 obtrusive borderers, and had been treated, he felt conscious, with 
 less than respect and justice by the provincial government itself. 
 But a little time before, the voluntary hostages of the Cherokees 
 had been entertained with indignity and harshness by the Assembly 
 of Carolina ; having been incarcerated in a dungeon, under cruel 
 circumstances of privation, which the Cherokees at large did not 
 appear to feel in a less degree than the suffering hostages them 
 selves, and were pacified with extreme difficulty. The full array 
 of these circumstances, to the mind of Harrison, satisfied him of the 
 utter senselessness of any confidence in that friendly disposition of 
 the natives, originally truly felt, but which had been so repeatedly 
 abused as to be no longer entertained, or only entertained as a mask 
 to shelter feelings directly opposite in character. The increasing 
 consciousness of danger, and the failure of Occonestoga, on whose 
 intelligence he had so greatly depended, momentarily added to his 
 *w^uiet, by leaving him entirely at a loss, as to the time, direction.
 
 250 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 and character of that danger, which it had been bis wish and 
 province to provide against. Half soliloquizing as he thought, and 
 half addressing Granger, who stood beside him in the upper and 
 habitable room of the Block House, the anxieties of Harrison found 
 their way to his lips. 
 
 " Bad enough, Granger and yet what to do how to move for 
 there's little use in moving without a purpose. We can do nothing 
 without intelligence, and that we must have though we die for it. 
 We must seek and find out their 'aim, their direction, their force, 
 and what they depend upon. If they come alone we can manage 
 them, unless they scatter simultaneously upon various points and 
 take us by surprise, and this, if I mistake not, will be their course. 
 But I fear this sailor-fellow brings them an ugly coadjutor in the 
 power of the Spaniard. He comes from St. Augustine evidently ; 
 and may bring them men a concealed force, and this accounts for 
 his refusal to admit any of our people on board. The boxes too, 
 did you mark them well, Granger ?" 
 
 " As well as I might, sir, from the Chief's Bluff." 
 
 " And what might they contain, think you ?" 
 
 u Goods and wares, sir, I doubt not : blankets perhaps " 
 
 u Or muskets and gunpowder. Your thoughts run upon nothing 
 but stock in trade, and the chance of too much competition. Now, 
 is it not quite as likely that those boxes held hatchets, and knives, 
 and fire-arms ? Were they not generally of one size and shape 
 long, narrow eh ? Did you note that ?" 
 
 " They were, my lord, all of one size, as you described them. 1 
 saw that myself, and so I said to Richard, but he did not mind." 
 
 Thus spoke the wife of Granger, in reply to the question which 
 had been addressed to her husband. 
 
 " Did you speak to me ?" was the stern response of Harrison, in 
 a tone of voice and severity not usually employed by the speaker, 
 accompanying his speech by a keen penetrating glance, which, 
 passing alternately from husband to wife, seemed meant to go 
 through them both. 
 
 " I did speak to you, sir, and you will forgive me for having 
 addressed any other than Captain Harrison," she replied, compos- 
 edly and calmly, though in a manner meant to conciliate and ex-
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 251 
 
 cuse the inadvertence of which she had been guilty in conferring 
 upon him a title which in that region it seemed his policy to avoid. 
 Then, as she beheld that his glance continued to rest in rebuke 
 upon the shrinking features of her husband, she proceeded thus 
 
 " You will forgive him too, sir, I pray you ; but it is not so easy 
 for a husband to keep any secret from his wife, and least of all, 
 such as that which concerns a person who has provoked so much 
 interest in us all." 
 
 " You are adroit, mistress, and your husband owes you much. 
 A husband does find it difficult to keep any thing secret from his 
 wife but his own virtues ; and of these she seldom dreams. But 
 pray, when was this wonderful revelation made to you?" 
 
 " You were known to me, sir, ever since the Foresters made you 
 captain, just after the fight with the Coosaws at Tulifinneo 
 Swamp." 
 
 " Indeed 1" was the reply ; " well, my good dame, you have had 
 my secret long enough to keep it now. I am persuaded you can 
 keep it better than your "husband. How now, Granger! you would 
 be a politician too, and I am to have the benefit of your counsels, 
 and you would share mine. Is't not so and yet, you would fly 
 to your chamber, and share them with a tongue, which, in the 
 better half of the sex, would wag it on every wind, from swamp to 
 sea, until all points of the compass grew wiser upon it." 
 
 " Why, Captain," replied the trader, half stupidly, half apologe- 
 tically " Moll is a close body enough." 
 
 " So is not Moll's worser half," was the reply. " But no more of 
 this folly. There is much for both of us to do, and not a little for 
 you in particular, if you will do it." 
 
 " Speak, sir, I will do much for you, captain." 
 
 " And for good pay. This it is. You must to the Yemassees 
 to Pocota-ligo see what they do, find out what they design, and 
 look after Occonestoga are you ready ?" 
 
 u It were a great risk, captain, at this time." 
 
 " Why, true, and life itself is a risk. We breathe not an in- 
 fant without hazard of its loss, and a plumstone, to an open 
 mouth at dinner, is quite as perilous as the tenth bullet. Sleep ia 
 ft risk, and one presses not bis pillow o'nights, without a prayef
 
 252 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 against eternity before morning. Show me the land where we 
 risk nothing, and I will risk all to get there." 
 
 " It's as much as my life's worth, captain." 
 
 " Psha ! we can soon count up that. Thou art monstrous fond 
 of thy carcass, now, and by this I know thou art growing wealthy. 
 Wo shall add to thy gains, if thou wilt go on this service. The 
 Assembly will pay thee well, as they have done before. Thou 
 hast not lost by its service." 
 
 " Nothing, sir but have gained greatly. In moderate adven- 
 ture, I am willing to serve them now ; but not in this. The Ye- 
 massees were friendly enough then, and so was Sanutee. It is differ- 
 ent now, and all the favour I could look fur from the old chief, 
 would be a stroke of his hatchet, to save me from ti re-torture." 
 
 " But why talk of detection ? I do not desire that thou 
 shouldst allow thyself to betaken. Think you, when I go into 
 battle, the -thought of being shot ever troubles me? No. It' I 
 thought that, I should not perhaps go. My only thought is how 
 to shoot others ; and you should think,' in this venture, not of 
 your own, but the danger of those around you. You are a goo<l 
 Indian hunter, and have practised all their arts. Take the swamp 
 hug the tree line the thicket see and hear, nor shout till 
 you are out of the wood. There's no need to thrust your nose 
 into the Indian kettles." 
 
 " It might be done, captain ; but if caught, it w6*uld be so 
 much the worse for me. I can't think of it, sir." 
 
 " Caught indeed ! A button for the man who prefers fear rather 
 than hope. Will not a hundred pounds teach thee reason ? 
 Look, man, it is here with thy wife will that not move thee to it." 
 
 " Not five hundred, captain, not five hundred," replied the 
 trader, decisively. "I know too well the danger, and shan't for 
 get the warning which old Sanutee gave me. I've seen enough 
 of it to keep me back; and though I am willing to do a great 
 deal, captain, for you as well as the Assembly, without any 
 reward, as I have often done before, for you have all done a 
 great deal for me yet it were death, and a horrible death, for 
 me to undertake this. I must not I do not say I will not but 
 in truth I cannot I dare not."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 263 
 
 Thus had the dialogue between Harrison and the trader gone 
 on for aome time, the former urging and the latter refusing. The 
 wife of the latter all the while had looked on, and listened in 
 silence, almost unnoticed by either, but her countenance during 
 the discussion was full of eloquent speech. The colour in her 
 cheeks now came and went, her eye sparkled, her lip quivered, 
 aud she moved to and fro, with emotion scarcely suppressed, until 
 her husband came to his settled conclusion not to go, as above 
 narrated, when she boldly advanced between him and Harrison, 
 and with her eye settling somewhat scornfully upon him, where he 
 stood, she thus addressed him : 
 
 " Now out upon thee, Richard, for a mean spirit. Thou 
 wouldst win money only when the game is easy and all thine 
 own. Hast thou not had the pay of the Assembly, time upon 
 time, and for little risk? and because the risk is now greater, 
 wilt thou hold back like a man having no heart ? I shame to 
 think of what thou hast spoken. But the labour and the risk 
 thou fearest shall be mine. I fear not the savages I know their 
 arts and can meet them, and so couldst thou, Granger, did thy 
 own shadow not so frequently beset thee to scare. Give me the 
 charge which thou hast, captain and, Granger, touch not the 
 pounds. Thou wilt keep them, my lord, for other service. I will 
 go without the pay." 
 
 Thou shalt not, Moll thou shalt not," cried the trader, inter 
 posing. 
 
 " But I will, Richard, and thou knowest I will when my lips 
 have said it. If there be danger, I have no children to feel my 
 want,. and it is but my own life, and even its loss might save 
 many." 
 
 " Moll Moll !" exclaimed the trader, half entreating, half com- 
 manding in his manner, but she heeded him not. 
 
 " And nqw, my lord, the duty. What is to be done ?" 
 
 Harrison looked on as she spoke, in wonder and admiration, then 
 replied, warmly seizing her hand as he did so : 
 
 "Now, by heaven, woman, but thou hast a soul a noble, strong v 
 manly soul, such as would shame thousands of the more presump- 
 tuous sex. But thy husband has said right in this. Thou shalt
 
 254 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 not go, and thy words have well taught me that the task should 
 be mine own." 
 
 " What ! my lord," exclaimed both the trader and his wife 
 " thou wilt not trust thy person in their hands ?" 
 
 " No certainly not. Not if I can help it bnt whatever be 
 the risk that seems so great to all, I should not seek to hazard the 
 lives of others, where my own is as easily come at, and wLerc my 
 own is the greater stake. So, Granger, be at rest for thyself and 
 wife. I put thyself first in safety, where I know thou wishest 
 it. For thee thou art a noble woman, and thy free proffer of 
 service is indeed good service this hour to me, since it brings me 
 to recollect my own duty. The hundred pounds, are thine, Gran- 
 ger !" 
 
 "My lord P 
 
 " No lording, man no more of that, but hear me. In a few 
 hours, and with the dusk, I shall be off. See that you keep good 
 watch when I am gone, for the Block House will be the place of 
 retreat for our people in the event of commotion, and will there- 
 fore most likely be a point of attack with the enemy. Several 
 have been already warned, and will doubtless be here by night. 
 Be certain you know whom you admit. Grimstead and Grayson, 
 with several of the foresters, will come with their families, and 
 with moderate caution you can make your defence. No more." 
 
 Thus counselling, and directing some additional preparations to 
 the trader and his wife, he called for Hector, who, a moment after, 
 made his appearance, as if hurried away from a grateful employ, 
 with a mouth greased from ear to ear, and a huge mass of fat 
 bacon still clutched tenaciously between his fingers. 
 
 Hector 1" 
 
 * Sa, maussa." 
 
 " Hast fed Dugdale to-day !" 
 
 " Jist done feed 'em, maussa." 
 
 " See that you give him nothing more and get the horse in 
 readiness. I go up the river-trace by the night." 
 
 " He done, maussa, as you tell me :" and the black retired to 
 finish the meal, in the enjoyment of which he had been interrupted. 
 At dusk, under the direction of his master who now appeared
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 255 
 
 gallantly mounted upon his noble steed Hector led Dugdale 
 behind him to the entrance of a little wood, where the river-trace 
 began upon which his master was going. Alighting from his 
 horse, Harrison played for a few moments with the strong and 
 favourite dog, and thrusting his hand, among other things, down 
 the now and then extended jaws of the animal, he seemed to prac- 
 tise a sport to which he was familiar. After this, lie made the 
 negro put Dugdale's nose upon the indented track, and then in- 
 structed him, in the event of his not returning by the moon-rise, 
 to unmuzzle and place him upon the trace at the point he was 
 leaving. This done, he set off at a rapid pace, Dugdale vainly 
 struggling to follow close upon his footsteps.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 "School that fierce passion down, ere it unman, 
 Ere it o'erthrow thee. Thou art on a height 
 Most perilous, and beneath thee spreads the sea. 
 And the storm gathers." 
 
 LEA'S ING Bess Matthews, as we have seen, under the influence of 
 a sad and feverish spirit, Hugh Grayson, as if seeking to escape 
 the presence of a pursuing and painful thought, plunged deeper 
 and deeper into the forest, out of the pathway, though still in the 
 direction of his own home. His mind was now a complete chaos, 
 in which vexation and disappointment, not to speak of self- 
 reproach, were active principles of misrule. He felt deeply the 
 shame following upon the act of espionage of which he had been 
 guilty, and though conscious that it was the consequence of a 
 momentary paroxysm that might well offer excuse, he was, never- 
 theless, too highly gifted with sensibility not to reject those sug- 
 gestions of his mind which at moments sought to extenuate it. 
 Perhaps, too, his feeling of abasement was not a little exaggerated 
 by (he stern and mortifying rebuke which had fallen from the lips 
 of that being whose good opinion had been all the world to him. 
 With these feelings at work, his mood was in no sort enviable ; 
 and when, at nightfall, he reached the dwelling of his mother, it 
 was in a condition of mind which drove him, a reckless savage, 
 into a corner of the apartment opposite that in which sat the old 
 dame croning over the pages of the sacred volume. She looked 
 up at intervals, and cursorily surveyed, in brief glances, the 
 features of her son; whose active mind and feverish ambition, 
 warring as they ever did against that condition of life imposed 
 upon him by the necessities of his birth and habitation, had evei 
 been an object of great solicitude to his surviving parent. He 
 had been her pet in his childhood her pride as he grew older, 
 and began to exhibit the energies and graces of a strongly-marked
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 257 
 
 and highly original, though unschooled intellect. Not without 
 ambition and an appreciation of public honours, the old woman 
 could not but regard Ler son as promising to give elevation to the 
 name of his then unknown family ; a hope not entirely extrava- 
 gant in a part of the world in which the necessities of life were 
 such as to compel a sense of equality in all ; and, indeed, if 
 making an inequality any where,* making it in favour rather of the 
 bold and vigorous plebeian, than of the delicately-nurtured and 
 usually unenterprising scion of aristocracy. Closing the book at 
 length, the old lady turned to her son, and without remarking 
 upon the peculiar unseemliness, not to say wildness, of his appear- 
 ance, she thus addressed him : 
 
 " Where hast thou been, Hughey, boy, since noon ? Thy 
 brother and thyself both from home I have felt lonesome, and 
 really began to look for the Indians that the young captain warned 
 us of." 
 
 "Still the captain nothing but the captain. Go where 1 may, 
 he is in my sight, and his name within my ears. I am for ever 
 haunted by his presence. His shadow is on the wall, and before 
 me, whichever way I turn." , 
 
 " And does it oft'end thee, Hughey, and wherefore ? He is a 
 goodly gentleman, and a gracious, and is so considerate. He 
 smoothed my cushion when he saw it awry, and so well, I had 
 thought him accustomed to it all his life. I see no harm in him." 
 
 " I doubt not, mother. He certainly knows well how to cheat 
 old folks not less than young ones into confidence. That smooth 
 ing of thy cushion makes him in thy eyes for ever." 
 
 " And so it should, my son, for it shows consideration. What 
 could he hope to get from an old woman like me, and wherefore 
 should he think to find means to pleasure me, but that he is well- 
 bred and a gentleman ?" 
 
 "Aye, that is the word, mother he is a gentlemanwho knows, 
 rt lord in disguise and is therefore superior to the poor peasant 
 who is forced to dig his roots for life in the unproductive sands. 
 Wherefore should his hands be unblistered, and mine asore ? 
 Wherefore should he come, and with a smile and silly speech win 
 Ins way into people's hearts, when I, with a toiling affection of
 
 258 THE YEMASSKE. 
 
 years, and a love that almost grows into a worship of its object, 
 may not gather a single regard from any ? Has nature given me 
 life for this ? Have I had a thought given me, bidding me ascend 
 the eminence an<3 look down upon the multitude, only for denial 
 and torture ? Wherefore is this cruelty, this injustice ? Can you 
 answer, mother does the Bible tell you any thing on this sub- 
 ject ?" 
 
 " Be not irreverent, my son, but take the sacred volume more 
 frequently into your own hands if you desire an answer to your 
 question. Why, Hughey, are you so perverse ? making yourself 
 and all unhappy about you, and still fevering with every thing you 
 see." 
 
 "That is the question, mother, that I asked you but now. Why 
 is it ? Why am I not like my brother, who looks upon this Har- 
 rison as if he were a god, and will do his bidding, and fetch and 
 carry for him like a spaniel ? I am not so yet thou hast taught 
 us both we have known no other teaching. Why does he love 
 the laughter of the crowd, content to send up like sounds with the 
 many, when I prefer the solitude, or if I go forth with the rest, go 
 forth only to dissent and to deny, and to tutor my voice into a 
 sound that shall be unlike any of theirs ? Why is all this ?" 
 
 "Nay, I know not, yet so it is, Hughey. Thou wert of this 
 nature from thy cradle, and wouldst reject the toy which looked 
 like that of thy brother, and quarrel with the sport which he had 
 chosen." 
 
 "Yet thou wouldst have me like him but I would rather perish 
 with my own thoughts in the gloomiest dens of the forest, where 
 the sun comes not ; and better, far better that it were so far bet- 
 ter," he exclaimed, moodily. 
 
 "What say'st thou, Hughey why this new sort of language? 
 what has troubled thee ?" inquired the old woman, affectionately. 
 
 " Mother, I am a slave a dog an accursed thing, and in the 
 worst of bondage I am nothing." 
 
 "How!" 
 
 " I would be, and I am not. They keep me down they refuse 
 to hear they do not heed me, and with a thought of command 
 Hid a will of power in me, they yet pass me by, and I must giv
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 259 
 
 way to a bright wand and a gilded chain. Even here in these 
 woods, with a poor neighbourhood, and surrounded by those who 
 are unhonoured and unknown in society, they the slaves that 
 they are ! they seek for artificial forms, and bind themselves with 
 constraints that can only have a sanction in the degradation of the 
 many. They yield up the noble and true attributes of a generous 
 nature, and make themselves subservient to a name and a mark 
 thus it is that fathers enslave their children ; and but for this, our 
 lords proprietors, whom God in His mercy take to himself, have 
 dared to say, even in this wild land not yet their own, to the peo- 
 ple who have battled its dangers ye shall worship after our fash- 
 ion, or your voices are unheard. Who is the tyrant in this ? -not 
 the ruler not the ruler but those base spirits who let him rule, 
 those weak and unworthy, who, taking care to show their weak- 
 nesses, have invited the oppression which otherwise could have no 
 head. I would my thoughts were theirs or, and perhaps it were 
 better I would their thoughts were mine." 
 
 " God's will be done, my son but I would thou hadst this con 
 tent of disposition without which there is no happiness." 
 
 " Content, mother how idle is that thought. Life itself is dis- 
 content hope, which is one of our chief sources of enjoyment, is 
 discontent, since it seeks that which it has not. Content is a 
 sluggard, and should be a slave a thing to eat and sleep, and 
 perhaps to dream of eating and sleeping, but not a thing to live. 
 Discontent is the life of enterprise, of achievement, of glory ay, 
 even of affection. I know the preachers say not this, and the cant 
 of the books tells a different story ; but I have thought of it, mo- 
 ther, and I know ! Without discontent a serious and unsleeping 
 discontent life would be a stagnant stream as untroubled as the 
 back water of the swamps of Edistoh, and as full of the vilest 
 reptiles." 
 
 " Thou art for ever thinking strange things, Hugh, and different 
 from all other people, and somehow I can never sleep after I have 
 been talking with thee." 
 
 ' " Because I have thought for myself, mother in the woods, by 
 the waters and have not had my mind compressed into the old 
 time -mould with which the pedant shapes the skulls of the imita-
 
 260 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 tive apes that courtesy considers human. My own mind is iny 
 teacher, and perhaps my tyrant. It is some satisfaction that I 
 have no other some satisfaction that I may still refuse to look 
 ou; for idols such as Walter loves to seek and worship demean 
 ing a name and family which he thus can never honour." 
 
 " What reproach is this, Hughey ? Wherefore art thou thus 
 often speaking unkindly of thy brother ? Thou dost wrong him." 
 
 " He wrongs me, mother, and the name of my father, when he 
 thus for ever cringes to this captain of yours this Harrison 
 whose name and image mingle in with his every thought, and 
 whom he thrusts into my senses at every word which he utters." 
 
 " Let not thy dislike to Harrison make thee distrustful of thy 
 Drother. Beware, Hughey beware, my son, that thou dost not 
 teach thyself to hate where nature would have thee love!" 
 
 " Would I could how much more happiness were mine ! 
 Could I hate where now I love could I exchange affections, 
 devotion, a passionate worship, for scorn, for hate, for indifference, 
 anything so it be change!" and the youth groaned at the con- 
 clusion of the sentence, while he thrust his face buried in his hands 
 against the wall. 
 
 " Thou prayest for a bad spirit, Hughey ; and a temper of sin 
 hear now what the good book says, just where I have been read- 
 ing ; " and she was about to read, but he hurriedly approached 
 and interrupted her 
 
 "Does it say why I should have senses, feelings, faculties of 
 mind, moral, person, to be denied their aim, their exercise, their 
 utterance, their life ? Does it say why I should live, for persecu- 
 tion, for shame, for shackles ? If it explain not this, mother, 
 read not I will not hear look! I shut my ears I will not hear 
 even thy voice I am deaf, and would have thee dumb ! " 
 
 " Hugh," responded the old woman, solemnly "have I loved 
 thee or not ? " 
 
 " Wherefore the question, mother ? " he returned, with a sudden 
 change from passionate and tumultuous emotion, to a more gentle 
 and humble expression. 
 
 " I would know from thy own lips, that thou thinkest me worthy 
 only of thy unkind speech, and look, and gesture. If I have not
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 261 
 
 loved thee well, and as my son, thy sharp words are good, and 1 
 deserve them ; and I shall bear them without reproach or reply.'' 
 
 "Madness, mother, dear mother hold me a madman, but not 
 forgetful of thy love thy too much love for one so undeserving. 
 It is thy indulgence that makes me thus presuming. Hadst thou 
 been less kind, I feel that I should have been less daring." 
 
 " Ah ! Hugh, thou art wrestling with evil, and thou lovest too 
 much its embrace ! but stay, thou art not going forth again to- 
 night ? " she asked, seeing him about to leave the apartment. 
 
 " Yes, yes I must I must go." 
 
 " Where, I pray " 
 
 " To the woods to the woods. I must walk out of sight it 
 the air I must have fresh air, for I choke strangely." 
 
 " Sick, Hughey, my boy stay, and let me get thee some 
 medicine." 
 
 " No, no, not sick, dear mother ; keep me not back fear not 
 for me I was never better never better." And he supported her 
 with an effort at moderation, back to her chair. She was forced 
 to be satisfied with the assurance, which, however, could not quiet 
 her. 
 
 " Thou wilt come back soon, Hughey, for I am all alone, and 
 Walter is with the captain." 
 
 " The captain ! ay, ay, soon enough, soon enough," and as ho 
 spoke he was about to pass from the door of the apartment, when 
 the ill-suppressed sigh which the mother uttered as she contem- 
 plated in him the workings of a passion too strong for her present 
 power to -suppress, arrested his steps. He turned quickly, looked 
 back for an instant, then rushed towards her, and kneeling down 
 by her side, pressed her hand to his lips, while he exclaimed 
 
 " Bless me, mother bless your son pray for him, too pray 
 that he may not madden with the wild thoughts and s ''der hopes 
 that keep him watchful and sometimes make him wayward." 
 
 " I do, Hughey I do, my son. May God in his mercy bless 
 thee, as I do now 1 " 
 
 He pressed her hand once more to his lips, and passed from tl 
 apartment.
 
 CHATTER XXXI. 
 
 Whf t bate I done to thee, that thou should* lift 
 Thy hand against me ? Wherefore wouldst thou itrik* 
 The heart that never wrong'd thee I" 
 
 " "Tit a li, 
 
 Thou art mine enemy, that evermore 
 Keep'st me awake o' nights. I cannot (leap, 
 While thou art in my thought." 
 
 FLYING from the house, as if by so doing he might lose th 
 thoughts that had roused him there into a paroxysm of that fierce 
 passion which too much indulgence had made habitual, he rambled, 
 only half conscious of his direction, from cluster to cluster of the old 
 trees, until the seductive breeze of the evening, coming up from the 
 river, led him down into that quarter. The stream lay before 
 him in the shadow of night, reflecting clearly the multitude of starry 
 eyes looking down from the heavens upon it, and with but a slight 
 ripple, under the influence of the evening breeze, crisping its other- 
 wise settled bosom. How different from his that wanderer 1 
 The disappointed love the vexed ambition the feverish thirst for 
 the unknown, perhaps for the forbidden, increasing his agony at 
 every stride which he took along those quiet waters. It was here 
 in secret places, that his passion poured itself forth with the crowd 
 it was all kept down by the stronger pride, which shrank from the 
 thought of making its feelings public property. With them he 
 was simply cold and forbidding, or perhaps recklessly and inordi- 
 nately gay. This was his policy. He well knew how great is the 
 delight of the vulgar mind when it can search and tent the wound 
 which it discovers you to possess. How it delights to see the 
 victim writhe under its infliction, and, with how much pleasure its 
 ears drink in the groans of suffering, particularly the suffi\ring of 
 the heart. He knew that men are never so well contort, once 
 of the sore, as when they are probing it ; unheeding the
 
 THE TEMASSEE. 263 
 
 windings, or enjoying them with the same sort of satisfaction with 
 which the boy tortures the kitten and he determined, in his case 
 at least, to deprive them of that gratification. He had already 
 learned how much we are the sport of the many, when we become 
 the victims of the few. 
 
 The picture of the night around him was not for such a 'mood. 
 There is a condition of mind necessary for the due appreciation of each 
 object and enjoyment, and harmony is the life-principle, as well of 
 man as of nature. That quiet stream, with its sweet and sleepless 
 murmur those watchful eyes, clustering in capricious and beautiful 
 groups above, and peering down, attended by a thousand frail 
 glories, into the mirrored waters beneath those bending tr.-cs, 
 whose matted arms and branches, fringing the river, made it a 
 hallowed home for the dreaming solitary they chimed not in with 
 that spirit, which now, ruffled by crossing currents, felt not, saw 
 not, desired not their influences. At another time, in another 
 mood, he had worshipped them ; now, their very repose and soft- 
 ness, by offering no interruption to the train of his own wild 
 musings, rather contributed to their headstrong growth. The 
 sudden tempest had done the work the storm precedes a degree 
 of quiet which in ordinary nature is unknown. 
 
 " Peace, peace give me peace !" he cried, to the elements. 
 The small echo from the opposite bank, crie'd back to him, in a 
 tone of soothing, " peace" but he waited not for its answer. 
 
 " Wherefore do I ask ?" he murmured to himself, " and what is 
 it that I ask ? Peace, indeed ! Repose, rather release, escape 
 a free release from the accursed agony of this still pursuing 
 thought. Is life peace, even with love attained, with conquest, 
 with a high hope realized with an ambition secure in all men's 
 adoration ! Peace, indeed ! Thou liest, thou life ! thou art an 
 embodied lie, wherefore dost thou talk to me of peace ? Ye 
 elements, that murmur on in falsehood, stars and suns, streams, 
 and ye gnarled monitors ye are all false. Ye would soothe, and 
 ye excite, lure, encourage, tempt, and deny. The peace of life is 
 insensibility the suicide of mind or affection. Is that a worse 
 crime than the murder of the animal ? Impossible. I may not 
 rob the heart of its passion the mind of its immortality ; and the
 
 264, THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 death of matter is absurd. Ha ! there is but one to care but 
 one, and she is old. A year a month and the loss is a loss no 
 longer. There is too much light here for that. Why need these 
 stars see why should any see, or hear, or know ? When I am 
 silent they will shine and the waters rove on, and she she will 
 
 be not less happy that I come not between her and . A dark 
 
 spot gloomy and still, where the groan will have no echo, and no 
 eye may trace the blood which streams from a heart that has only 
 too much in it'." 
 
 Thus soliloquizing, in the aberration of intellect, which was too 
 apt to follow a state of high excitement in the individual before 
 us, he plunged into a small, dark cavity of wood, lying not far 
 from the river road, but well concealed, as it was partly under the 
 contiguous swamp. Here, burying the handle of his bared knife 
 in the thick ooze of the soil upon which he stood, the sharp point 
 upwards, and so placed that it must have penetrated, he knelt 
 down at a brief space from it, and, with a last thought upon the 
 mother whom he could not then forbear to think upon, he strove 
 to pray. But he could not the words stuck in his throat, and he 
 gave it up in despair. He turned to the fatal weapon, and throw- 
 ing open his vest, so as to free the passage to his heart of all 
 obstructions, with a.swimming and indirect emotion of the brain, 
 he prepared to cast himself, from the spot where he knelt, upon its 
 unvarying edge, but at that moment came the quick tread of a 
 horse's hoof to his ear ; and with all that caprice which must 
 belong to the mind which, usually good, has yet, even for an 
 instant, purposed a crime not less foolish than foul, he rose at once 
 to his feet. 
 
 The unlooked-for sounds had broken the spell of the scene and 
 situation ; and, seizing the bared weapon, he advanced to the edge 
 of the swamp, where it looked down upon the road which ran 
 alongside. The sounds rapidly increased in force ; and at length, 
 passing directly along before him, his eye distinguished the outline 
 of a person whom he knew at once to be Harrison. The rider 
 went by, but in a moment after, the sounds had ceased. His pro- 
 gress had been arrested; and with an emotion, strange, and still 
 geemingly without purpose, and for which he did not seek to
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 265 
 
 account, Grayson changed his position, and moved along the edge 
 of the road to where the sounds of the horse had terminated. 
 His fingers clutched the knife, bared for a different purpose, with 
 a strange soit of ecstasy. A sanguinary picture of triumph and 
 of terror rose up before his eyes ; and the leaves and the trees, to 
 liis mind, seemed of the one hue, and dripping with gouts of blood. 
 The demon was m-esent in every thought. He had simply changed 
 liis plan of operations. A long train of circumstances and their 
 concomitants crowded upon the mental vision of the youth cir- 
 cumstances of strife, concealment, future success deep, long-looked 
 for enjoyment and still, with all, came the beautiful image of 
 Bess Matthews. 
 
 " Thus the one passion subject makes of all, 
 And slaves of the strong sense " 
 
 There was a delirious whirl a rich, confused assemblage of the 
 strange, the sweet, the wild, in his spirit, that, in his morbid con 
 dition, was a deep delight ; and, without an effort to bring ordoi 
 to the adjustment of this confusion, as would have been the case 
 with a well-regulated mind without a purpose in his own view 
 he advanced cautiously and well,concealed benind the trees, and 
 approached the individual whom he had long since accustomed 
 himself only to regard as an enemy. Concealment is a leading 
 influence of crime with individuals not accustomed to refer all their 
 feelings and thoughts to the control of just principles, and the 
 remoteness and the silence, the secrecy of the scene, and th ease 
 with which the crime could be covered up, were among the movingl 
 causes which prompted the man to murder, who had a little beforel 
 meditated suicide. / 
 
 Harrison had alighted from his horse, and was then busied in 
 fastening his bridle to a swinging branch of the tree under which 
 he stood. Having done this, and carefully thrown the stirrups 
 across the saddle, he left him, and sauntering back a few paces to 
 a spot of higher ground, he cast himself, with the composure of an 
 old hunter, at full length upon the long grass 4 which tufted prettily 
 the spot he had chosen. This done, he sounded merrily three 
 12
 
 266 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 several notes upon the horn which hung about his neck, and seemed 
 then to await the coming of another. 
 
 The blast of the horn gave quickness to the approach of Hugh 
 Grayson, who had been altogether unnoticed by Harrison ; and he 
 now stood in the shadow of a tree, closely observing the fine, manly 
 outline, the graceful position, and the entire symmetry of his 
 rival's extended person. He saw, and his passions grew more and 
 more tumultuous with the survey. His impulse? became stronger 
 as his increasing thoughts grew more strange. There was a feel- 
 ing of strife, and a dream of blood in his fancy he longed for the 
 one, and his eye saw the other a rich, attractive, abundant stream, 
 pouring, as it were, from the thousand arteries of some overshadow- 
 ing tree. The reasoning powers all grew silent the moral facul 
 ties were distorted with the survey ; and the feelings were only so 
 many winged arrows goading him on to evil. For a time, the 
 guardian conscience that high standard of moral education, with 
 out which we cease to be human, and are certainly unhappy 
 battled stoutly ; and taking the shape of a thought, which told him 
 continually of his mother, kept back, nervously restless, the hand 
 which clutched the knife. But the fierce passions grew triumphant, 
 with the utterance of a single name from the lips of Harrison, 
 that of Bess Matthews, mingled with a momentary catch of song, 
 such as is poured forth, almost unconsciously, by the glad and 
 ardent affection. Even as this little catch of song smote upon his 
 senses, Hugh Grayson sprang from the shadow of the tree which 
 had concealed him, and cast himself headlong upon the bosom of 
 the prostrate man. 
 
 Harrison grappled his assailant, and struggled with powerful 
 limbs, in his embrace, crying out, as he did so : 
 
 " Ha ! why is this i Who art thou 1 Would'st thou murder 
 rne, ruffian ?" 
 
 " Ay ! murder is the word ! Murder ! I would have thy blood. 
 I would drink it !" 
 
 Such was the answer of the madman, and the knife flashed in 
 his grasp. 
 
 " Horrible 1 but thou wilt fight for it, murderer," was the reply 
 of Harrison; while* struggling with prodigious effort, though at
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 267 
 
 great disadvantage from the closely pressing form of Grayson, 
 whose knee was upon his breast, he strove with one hand, at the 
 same moment to free his own knife from its place in his bosom, 
 while aiming to ward off with the other hand the stroke of his 
 enemy'. The whole affair had been so sudden, so perfectly unlooked- 
 for by Harrison, who, not yet in the Indian country, had not expected 
 danger, that he could not but conceive that the assailant had mis- 
 taken him for another. In the moment, therefore, he appealed to 
 him. 
 
 " Thou hast erred, stranger. I am not he thou seekest." 
 
 "Thou liest," was the grim response of Grayson. 
 
 " Ha ! who art thou ?" 
 
 " Thy enemy^in life in death through the past, and for the 
 long future, though it be endless, still thine enemy. I hate I 
 will destroy thee. Thou hast lain in my path thou hast darkened 
 my hope thou hast doomed me to eternal woe. Shalt thou have 
 what thou hast denied me ? Shalt thou live to win what I have 
 lost? No I have thee. There is no aid for thee. In another 
 moment, and I am revenged. Die die like a dog, since thou 
 hast doomed me to live, and to feel like one. Die !" 
 
 The uplifted eyes of Harrison beheld the blade descending in 
 the strong grasp of his enemy. One more effort, one last struggle ; 
 for the true mind never yields. While reason lasts, hope lives, for 
 the natural ally of human reason is hope. But he struggled in 
 vain. The hold taken by his assailant was unrelaxing that of 
 iron ; and the thoughts of Harrison, though still he struggled, 
 were strangely mingling with the prayer, and the sweet dream of 
 a passion, now about to be defrauded of its joys for ever but, 
 just at the moment when he had given himself up as utterly lost, 
 the grasp of his foe was withdrawn. The criminal had relented 
 the guardian conscience had resumed her sway in time for the 
 safety of hoth the destroyer and his victim. 
 
 And what a revulsion of feeling and of sense ! How terrible is 
 passion how terrible in its approach how more terrible in its 
 passage and departure ! The fierce madman, a moment before 
 ready to drink a goblet-draught from the heart of his enemy, now 
 trembled before him, like a leaf half detached by the frost, and
 
 268 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 yielding at the first breathings of the approaching zephyr. Stag 
 get-ing back, as if himself struck with the sudden shaft of death, 
 Grayson sank against the tree from which he had sprung in his 
 first assault, and covered his hands in agony. Ilis breast heaved 
 like a wave of the ocean when the winds gather in their desperate 
 frolic over its always sleepless bosom ; and his whole frame was 
 rocked to and fro, with the convulsions of his spirit. Harrison 
 rose to his feet the moment he had been released, and with a 
 curiosity not unmingled with caution, approached the unhappy 
 man. 
 
 " What ! . Master Hugh Grayson !" he exclaimed naturally 
 enough, as he found out who he was, " what has tempted thee to 
 this madness wherefore ?" 
 
 " Ask me not ask me not in mercy, ask me not. Thou art 
 safe, thou art safe. I have not thy blood upon my hands ; thank 
 God for that. It was her blessing that saved thee that saved 
 me ; oh, mother, how I thank thee for that blessing. It took the 
 madness from my spirit in the moment when I would have struck 
 thee, Harrison, even with as fell a joy as the Indian strikes in 
 battle. Go thou art safe. Leave me, I pray thee. Leave me to 
 my own dreadful thought the thought which hates, and would 
 just now have destroyed thee." 
 
 " But wherefore that thought, Master Grayson ? Thou art but 
 young to have such thoughts, and shouldst take counsel and why 
 such should be thy thoughts of me, I would know from thy own 
 lips, which have already said so much that is strange and unwel- 
 come." 
 
 " Strange, dost thou say," exclaimed the youth with a wild 
 grin, " not strange not strange. But go go leave me, lest the 
 dreadful passion come back. Thou didst wrong me thou hast 
 done me the worst of wrongs, though, perchance, thou knowest it 
 not. But it is over now thou art safe. I ask thee not to forgive, 
 but if thou wouldst serve me, Master Harrison " 
 
 ' Speak !" said the other, as the youth paused. 
 
 " If thou wouldst serve me, think me thy foe, thy deadly foe ; 
 one waiting and in mood to slay, and so thinking, as one bound 
 to preserve himself at all hazard, use thy knife upon my bosom
 
 THJI YEMASSEE. 269 
 
 now, as I would have used mine upon thee. Strike, if thou wouldst 
 serve me." Aud he dashed his hand upon the bared breast 
 violently as he spoke. 
 
 " Thou art mad, Master Grayson to ask of me to do such folly. 
 Hear me but a while" 
 
 But the other heard him not, he muttered to himself haK 
 incoherent Words and sentences. 
 
 " First suicide miserable wretch, and then, God of Heaven ! 
 that I should have been so nigh to murder," and he sobbed like a 
 child before the man he had striven to slay, until pity had com- 
 pletely taken the place of every other feeling in the bosom of Har- 
 ii.-oii. ' At this moment the waving of a torch-light appearec. 
 through the woods at a little distance. The criminal started as if 
 in terror, and was about to fly from the spot, but Harrison inter- 
 posed and prevented him. 
 
 " Stay, Master Grayson go not. The light comes in the hands 
 >f thy brother, who is to put me across the river. Thou wilt return 
 with him, and may thy mood grow gentler and thy thoughts 
 wiser. Thou hast been rash and foolish, but I mistake not thy 
 nature, which I hold meant for better things I regard it not, 
 therefore, to tliy harm ; and to keep thee from a thought 
 which will trouble thee more than it can harm me now, I will 
 crave of thee to lend all thy aid to assist thy mother from hei 
 present habitation, as she has agreed, upon the advice of thy bro- 
 ther and myself. Thou wast not so minded this morning, so thy 
 brother assured rue ; but thou wilt take my word for it that the 
 remove has grown essential to her safety. Walter will tell thee all. 
 In the meanwhile, what has passed between us we hold to our- 
 selves ; and if, as thou hast said, thou hast had wrong at my 
 hands, thou shalt have right at thy quest, when other duties 
 will allow." 
 
 " Enough, enough !" cried the youth in a low tone impatiently, 
 as he beheld his brother, carrying a torch, emerge from the cover. 
 
 " How now, Master Walter thou hast been sluggard, and but 
 for thy younger brother, whom I find a pleasant gentleman, I should 
 have worn out good-humour in seeking for patience." 
 
 " What, Hugh here !" Walter exclaimed, regarding his brothei
 
 270 THE 
 
 with some astonishment, as he well knew the dislike in which he 
 held Harrison. 
 
 " Ay," said the latter, " and he has grown more reasonable 
 since morning, and is now, if I so understand him not unwilling 
 to give aid in thy mother's remove. But come let us away we 
 have no time for the fire. Of the horse, thy brother will take 
 charge keep him not here for me, but let him bear thy mother 
 to the Block House. She will find him gentle. And now, Mas 
 ter Grayson farewell ! I hope to know thee better on my return, 
 as I desire thou shalt know me. Come, Walter. " 
 
 Concealed in the umbrage of the shrub trees which overhung 
 the river, a canoe lay at the water's edge, into which Harrison 
 leaped, followed by the elder Grayson. They were soon off the 
 skiff, like a fairy bark, gliding almost noiselessly across that Indian 
 river. Watching their progress for a while, Hugh Grayson lingered 
 until the skiff became a speck; then, with strangely mingled feel- 
 ings of humiliation and satisfaction, leaping upon the steed which 
 had been given him in charge, he took his way to the dwelling of 
 his mother.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 44 Be thy teeth firmly set ; the time is come, 
 To rend and trample We are ready all, 
 All, but the victim." 
 
 AT dark, Sanutee, Ishiagaska, Enoree-Ma.ttee, the prophet and a 
 fetr others of the Yemassee chiefs and leaders, all entertaining the 
 same decided hostilities to the Carolinians, and all more or 
 less already committed- to the meditated enterprise against them, 
 met at the lodge of Ishiagaska, in the town of Pocota-ligo, and 
 discussed their further preparations at some length. The insurrec- 
 tion had ripened rapidly, and had nearly reached a head. All the 
 neighbouring tribes, without an exception, had pledged themselves 
 for the common object, and the greater number of those extending 
 over Georgia and Florida, were also bound in the same dreadful 
 contract. The enemies of the settlement, in this conspiracy, ex- 
 tended from Cape Fear to the mountains of Apalachia, and the 
 disposable force of the Yemassees, under this league, amounted to 
 at least six thousand warriors. These forces were gathering at 
 various points according to arrangement, and large bodies from, 
 sundry tribes had already made their appearance at Pocota-ligo, 
 from which it was settled that the first blow should be given. 
 Nor were the Indians, thus assembling, bowmen merely. The 
 Spanish authorities of St. Augustine, who were at the bottom of 
 the conspiracy, had furnished them with a considerable supply of 
 arms ; and the conjectures of Harrison rightly saw in the boxes 
 transferred by Chorley, the seaman, to the Yemassees, those wea- 
 pons of massacre which the policy of the Carolinians had withheld 
 usually from the hands of the redmen. These, however, were 
 limited to the forest nobility the several chiefs bound in the war ; 
 to the commons, a knife or tomahawk was the assigned, and 
 perhaps the more truly useful present. The musket, at that period, 
 in the hands f the unpractised savage, was not half so dangerous
 
 272 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 as the bow. To this array of the forces gathered against the Caro- 
 linians, we must add those of the pirate Chorley a desperado in 
 every sense of the word, a profligate boy, a vicious and outlawed 
 man daring, criminal, and only engaging in the present adven- 
 ture in the hope of the spoil and plunder which he hoped from 
 it. In the feeble condition of the infant colony there was little 
 risk in his present position. Without vessels of war of any sort, 
 and only depending upon the mother country for such assistance, 
 whenever a French or Spanish invasion took place, the province 
 was lamentably defenceless. The visit of Chorley, in reference to 
 this present weakness, had been admirably well-timed. He had 
 waited until the departure of the Swallow, the English armed 
 packet, which periodically traversed the ocean with advices from 
 the sovereign to the subject. He then made his appearance in 
 the waters of the colony, secure from that danger, and, indeed, if 
 we may rely upon the historians of the period, almost secure from 
 any other ; for we are told that, in their wild abodes, the colonists 
 were not always the scrupulous moralists which another region 
 had made them. They did not scruple at this or at that sort of 
 trade, so long as it was profitable ; and Chorley, the pirate, would 
 have had no difficulty, as he well knew by experience, so long as 
 he avoided any overt performance, which should force upon the 
 public sense a duty, which many of the people were but too well 
 'satisfied when they could avoid. It did not matter to many among 
 those with whom he pursued his traffic, whether or not the article 
 which they procured, at so cheap a rate, had been bought with blood 
 and the strong hand. It was enough that the goods were to be 
 had when wanted, of as fair quality, and fifty per cent, cheaper 
 than those offered in the legitimate course of trade. To sum up 
 all in little, our European ancestors were, in many respects, mon- 
 strous great rascals. 
 
 Chorley was present at this interview with the insurrectionary 
 chiefs of Yemassee, and much good counsel he gave them. The 
 meeting was preparatory, and here they prepared the grand mouve- 
 ment, and settled the disposition of the subordinates. Here they 
 arranged all those small matters of etiquette beforehand, by which 
 to avoid little jealousies and disputes among their auxiliaries; foi
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 273 
 
 national pride, or rather the great glory of the clan, was as desperate . 
 a passion with the southern Indians, as with the yet more breech- / 
 less Highlanders of Scotland. Nothing was neglected in this inter- I 
 view which, to the deliberate mind, seemed necessary to success ; I 
 and they were prepared to break up their meeting, in order to the V 
 general assemblage of the people, to whom the formal and official 
 announcement was to be given, when Jshiagaska recalled them to 
 a matter which, t\ that fierce Indian, seemed much more important 
 than any other. Chorley beheld, with interest, the animated 
 glance the savage grin, of the red warrior, and though he knew 
 not the signification of the words of the speaker, he yet needed no 
 interpreter to convey to him the purport of his speech. 
 
 " The dog must smell the blood, or he tears not the throat. Ha ! 
 shall not the War-Manneyto have a feast ?" 
 
 Sanutee looked disquieted, but said nothing, while the eye of 
 Ishiagaska followed his glance and seemed to search him narrowly. 
 He spoke again, approaching more nearly to the person of the 
 " well-beloved :" 
 
 " The Yemassee hath gone on the track of the Swift Foot, and 
 the English has run beside him. They have taken a name from 
 the pale-face and called him brother. Brother is a strong word for 
 Yemassee, and he must taste of his blood, or he will not hunt after 
 the English. The War-Manueyto would feast upon the heart of a 
 l>ale-face, to make strong the young braves of Yemassee." 
 
 " It is good let the War-Manneyto have the feast upon the 
 lieart of the English !" exclaimed the prophet, and such seeming 
 the general expression, Sanutee yielded, though reluctantly. They 
 left the lodge, and in an hour a small party of young warriors, to 
 whom, in his wild, prophetic manner, Enoree-Mattee had revealed 
 the requisitions of the God he served, went forth to secure an 
 English victim for the dreadful propitiatory sacrifice they proposed 
 to offer, with the hope, by this means, to render success certain, 
 to the Indian Moloch. 
 
 This done, the chiefs distributed themselves among the several 
 bands of the people and their allies, stimulating by their arguments 
 and eloquence, the fierce spirit which they now laboured to arouse 
 in storm and tempest. We leave them to return to Harrison. 
 12*
 
 274 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 The adventure which he was now engaged in was sufficiently 
 perilous. He knew the danger, and also felt that there were par- 
 ticular responsibilities in his case which increased it greatly. With 
 this consciousness came a proportionate degree of caution. He 
 was shrewd, to a proverb, among those who knew him practised 
 considerably in Indian stratagem had been with them in frequent 
 conflict, and could anticipate their arts was resolute as well as 
 daring, and, with much of their circumspection, had learned skil- 
 fully to imitate the thousand devices, whether of warfare or of the 
 chase, which make the glory of the Indian brave. Having given 
 as fair a warning as was in his power to those of his countrymen 
 most immediately exposed to the danger, and done all that he could 
 to assure their safety against the threatening danger, he was less 
 reluctant to undertake the adventure. But had he been conscious 
 of the near approach of the time fixed on by the enemy for the 
 explosion could he have dreamed that the conspiracy was so ex- 
 tensive and the outbreak so near at hand, his attitude would have 
 been very different indeed. But this was the very knowledge, for 
 the attainment of which, he had taken his present journey. The 
 information sought was important in determining upon the degree 
 of effort necessary for the defence, and for knowing in what quarter 
 to apprehend the most pressing danger. 
 
 It was still early evening, when the canoe of Grayson, making 
 into a little cove about a mile and a half below Pocota-ligo. 
 enabled Harrison to land. With a last warning to remove as 
 quickly as possible, and to urge as many more as he could to the 
 shelter of the Block House, he left his companion to return to the 
 settlement ; then plunging into the woods, and carefully making a 
 sweep out of his direct course, in order to come in upon the back 
 of the Indian town, so as to avoid as much as practicable the fre- 
 quented paths, he went fearlessly upon his way. For some time, 
 proceeding with slow and heedful step, he went on without intei 
 ruption, yet not without a close scrutiny into everything he saw. 
 One thing struck him, however, and induced unpleasant reflection. 
 He saw that many of the dwellings which he approached were 
 without fires, and seemed deserted. The inhabitants were gone 
 he met with none ; and he felt assured that a popular gathering
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 275 
 
 was at hand or in progress. For two miles of his circuit ho 
 encountered no sign of human beings ; and he had almost come 
 to the conclusion that Pocota-ligo, which was only a mile or so 
 farther, would be equally barren, when suddenly a torch flamed 
 across his path, and with an Indian instinct he sank back into the 
 shadow of a tree, and scanned curiously the scene before him. The 
 torch grew into a blaze in a hollow of the wood, and around the 
 fire, he beheld, in various positions, some fifteen or twenty warriors, 
 making a small war encampment. Some lay at length, some "squat, 
 like a toad," and all gathered around the friendly blaze which had 
 just been kindled in time to prevent him from running headlong 
 into the midst of them. From the cover of the tree, which per- 
 fectly concealed him, he could see by the light around which they 
 clustered, not only the forms but the features of the warriors ; and 
 he soon made them out to be a band of his old acquaintance, the 
 Coosaws who, after the dreadful defeat which they sustained at 
 his hands in the forks of Tullifinee, found refuge with the Yemas- 
 sees, settled the village of Coosaw-hatehie, and being too small in 
 number to call for the further hostility of the Carolinians, were 
 suffered to remain in quiet. But they harboured a bitter malice 
 against their conquerors, and the call to the field, with a promisee 
 gratification of their long slumbering revenges, was a pledge as 
 grateful as it was exciting to their hearts. With a curious 
 memory which recalled vividly his past adventure with the same 
 people, he surveyed their diminutive persons, their small, quick, 
 sparkling eyes, the dusky, but irritably red features, and the queru- 
 lous upward turn of the nose a most distinguishing feature uirh 
 this clan, showing a feverish quarrelsomeness of disposition, and a 
 want of becoming elevation in purpose. Harrison knew them 
 well, and his intimacy had cost them dearly. It was probable, 
 indeed, that the fifteen or twenty warriors then grouped before him 
 were all that they could send into the field all that had survived 
 women and children excepted, the severe chastisement which had 
 annihilated them as a nation. But what they lacked in number 
 they made up in valour a fierce, sanguinary people, whose restless 
 habits and love of strife were a proverb even among their savage 
 neighbours, who were wont to describe a malignant man one mor
 
 276 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 so than usual, as having a Coosaw tooth. But a sing.e warno. 
 of this party was in possession of a musket, a huge and cumbrous 
 weapon, of which he seemed not a. little proud. He was probabk 
 a chief. The rest were armed with bow and arrow, knife, and. 
 here and there, a hatchet. The huge club stuck up conspicuously 
 among them, besmeared with coarse paint, and surmounted with a 
 human scalp, instructed Harrison sufficiently as to the purpose of 
 the party. The war-club carried from hand to hand, and in this 
 way transmitted from tribe to tribe", from nation to nation, by their 
 swiftest runners, was a mode of organization not unlike that 
 employed by the Scotch for a like object, and of which the muse 
 of Scott has so eloquently sung. The spy was satisfied with the 
 few glances which he gave to this little party; and as he could 
 gather nothing distinctly from their language, which he heard 
 imperfectly, and as imperfectly understood, he cautiously left his 
 place of concealment, and once more darted forward tm his 
 journey. Digressing from his path as circumstances or prudence 
 required, he pursued his course in a direct line towards Pocota- 
 ligo, but had not well lost sight of the fire of the Coosaws, when 
 another blaze appeared in the track just before him. Pursuing a like 
 caution with that already given, he approached sufficiently nigh to 
 distinguish a band of Sewees, something more numerous than the 
 Coosaws, but still not strong, encamping in like manner around 
 the painted post, the common ensign of approaching battle. He 
 knew them by the number of shells which covered their garments, 
 were twined in their hair, and formed a peculiar and favourite 
 ornament to their persons, while at the same time declaring theii 
 usual habitat. They occupied one of the islands which still bear 
 their name the only relics of a nation which had its god and its 
 glories, and believing in the Manneyto and the happy valley, can 
 have no complaint that their old dwellings shall know them no 
 more. The Sewees resembled the Coosaws in their general 
 expression of face, but in person they were taller and more sym- 
 metrical, though slender. They did not exceed thirty in number. 
 The precautions of Harrison were necessarily increased, as lit 
 found himself in such a dangerous neighbourhood, but still he felt 
 nothing of apprehension. He was cne of those men, singularly
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 277 
 
 constituted, in whom hope becomes a strong exciting principle, 
 perpetually stimulating confidence and encouraging adventure into 
 ;i forgetfulness of risk, and a general disregard to difficulty and 
 opposition. On he went, until, at the very entrance to the village, 
 he caine upon an encampment of the Santees, a troop of about 
 fifty warriors. These he knew by their greater size and muscle, 
 being generally six feet or more in height, of broad shoulders, full, 
 robust front, and forming not less in their countenances, which 
 were clear, open, and intelligent, than in their persons a singular 
 and marked contrast to the Sewees and Coosaws. They carried, 
 along with the bow, another, and, in their hands, a more formidable 
 weapon a huge mace, four or five feet in length, of the heaviest 
 wood, swelling into a large bulb, or knot, at the end. This was 
 suspended by a thong of skin or sinews from the necks. A glance 
 was enough to show their probable number, and desiring no more, 
 Harrison sank away from further survey, and carefully avoiding 
 the town, on the skirts of which he stood, he followed in the 
 direction to which he was led by a loud uproar and ponfused 
 clamour coming from the place. This was the place of general 
 encampment, a little above the village, immediately upon the edge 
 of the swamp from which the river wells, being the sacred ground 
 of Yemassee, consecrated to their several Manneytos of war, peace, 
 vengeance, and general power which contained the great tumulus 
 of Pocota-ligo, consecrated by a thousand awful sacrifices, for a 
 thousand years preceding, and already known to us as the spot 
 where Occonestoga, saved from perdition, met his death from the 
 hands of his mother.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 * Battle-god Manneyto 
 Here's a scalp, 'tis a scull, 
 This is blood, 'tis a heart, 
 Scalp, scull, blood, he^rt, 
 
 Tis for thee, Mann /to 'tis for thee, Manneyto 
 They shall make a feast for thee, 
 Battle-god Manneyto." 
 
 YEMASSEK Vi AB-HTMN. 
 
 THE preparatory rites of battle were about to take place around 
 the tumulus. The warriors were about to propitiate the Yemassee 
 God of War the Battle-Manneyto and the scene was now, if 
 possible, more imposing than ever. It was with a due solemnity 
 that they approached the awful rites with which they invoked 
 this stern principle doubly solemn, as they could not but feel 
 that the existence of their nation was the stake at issue. They 
 were prostrate the thousand warriors of Yemassee their wives, 
 their children their faces to the ground, but their eyes upward, 
 bent upon the cone of the tumulus, where a faint flame, dimly 
 flickering under the breath of the capricious winds, was struggling 
 doubtfully into existence. Enoree-Mattee, the prophet, stood in 
 anxious attendance the only person in the neighbourhood of the 
 fire for the spot upon which he stood was holy. He moved 
 around it, in attitudes now lofty, now grotesque now impassioned, 
 sincl now humbled feeding the flame at intervals as he did so 
 wi'.h fragments of wood, which had been consecrated by other 
 ritts, and sprinkling it, at the same time, with the dried leaves of 
 the native and finely odorous vanella, which diffused a grateful 
 perfume upon the gale. All this time he muttered a low, mono- 
 tonous chant, which seemed an incantation now and then, at 
 pauses in his song, turning to the gathered multitude, over whose 
 heads, as they lay in thick groups around the tumulus, he extended 
 bis arms as if in benediction. The flame all this while gathered
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 279 
 
 bat slowly, and this was matter of discontent to both prophet and 
 people; for the gathering of the fire was to indicate the satisfaction 
 of the Manneyto with their proposed design. While its progress 
 was doubtful, therefore, a silence entirely unbroken, and full of 
 awe, prevailed throughout the crowd. But when it burst forth, 
 growing and gathering seizing with a ravenous rapidity upon the 
 sticks and stubble with which it had been supplied licking the 
 long grass as it progressed, and running down the sides of the 
 tumulus, until it completely encircled the savagely picturesque 
 form of Enoree-Mattee as with a wreath of fire when it sent its 
 votive and odorous smoke in a thick, direct column, up to the 
 heavens a single, unanimous shout, that thrilled through ami 
 through the forest, even as the sudden uproar of one of its ows. 
 terrible hurricanes, burst forth from that now exhilarated assembly 
 while each started at once to his feet, brandished his weapons witi. 
 a fierce joy, and all united in that wild chorus of mixed fury and 
 adoration, the battle-hymn of their nation : 
 
 " Sangarjah-me, Yemassee, 
 Sangarrah-me Sangarrah-me 
 Battle-god Manneyto, 
 Here's a scalp, here's a scull, 
 This is blood, 'tis a hearty 
 Scalp, scull, blood, heart, 
 Tis for thee, battle-god, 
 TIB to make the feast for thee, 
 Battle-god of Yemassee 1" 
 
 As they repeated the wild chant of battle, at the altars of their 
 w.ir-god, chorussed by the same recurring refrain, the sounds were 
 caught up, as so many signals, by couriers, stationed along the 
 route, who conveyed the sounds to others yet beyond. These were 
 finally carried to the various encampments of their allies, who only 
 waited to hear of the blazing of the sacred fire, to understand that 
 they had the permission of the Yemassee deity to appear and join 
 in the subsequent ceremonial a ceremonial which affected and 
 interested them, in the approaching conflict, equally with the 
 Yemassees.
 
 280 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 They came at length, the great body of that fierce but motley 
 gathering. In so many clans, each marched apart, with the distinct 
 emblem of its tribe. There came the subtle and the active Coosaw, 
 with his small flaming black eye, in which gathered the most ma- 
 lignant fires. A stuffed rattlesnake in coil, with protruded fang, 
 perched upon a staff, formed their emblem, and no bad character- 
 istic, for they were equally fearless and equally fatal with that ivp- 
 tile. Then came the Combahee and the Edistoh, the Santee and 
 the Seratee the two latter kindred tribes bearing huge clubs, which 
 they wielded with equal strength and agility, in addition to the 
 knife and bow. Another and another cluster forming around, com- 
 pleted a grouping at once imposing and unique, each body, as 
 they severally came to behold the sacred fire, swelling upwards from 
 the mound, precipitating themselves upon the earth where first it 
 met their sight. The prophet still continued his incantations, until, 
 at a given signal, when Sanutee, as chief of his people, ascended 
 the tutnulus, and bending his form reverently as he did so, ap- 
 proached him to know the result of his auguries. The appearance 
 of the old chief was haggard in the extreme^ his countenance bore 
 all the traces of that anxiety which, at such a moment, the true 
 patriot would be likely to feel and a close eye might discern evi- 
 dences of a deeper feeling working at his heart, equally vexing and 
 of a more personal nature. Still his manner was firm and nobly 
 commanding. He listened to the words of the prophet, which 
 were in their own language. Then advancing in front, the chief 
 delivered his response to the people. It was auspicious Manueyto 
 had promised them success against their enemies, and their offer- 
 ings had all been accepted. He required but another sacrifice, and 
 the victim assigned for this, the prophet assured them, was at hand. 
 Again the shout went up to heaven, and the united warriors clash- 
 ed their weapons and yelled aloud the triumph which they antici- 
 pated over their foes. 
 
 In a neighbouring copse, well concealed by the thicket, lay 
 the person of Harrison. From this spot he surveyed the entire 
 proceedings. With the aid of their numerous fires, he was able 
 to calculate their numbers, and note the different nations en- 
 gaged, whose emblems he generally knew. He listened iro
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 28l 
 
 patiently for some evidences of their precise intention ; but as they 
 spoke only in their own, or a mixed language of the several tribes, 
 he almost despaired of any discovery of this kind, which would 
 serve him much, when a new party appeared upon the scene, in 
 the person of Chorley, the captain of the sloop. He appeared 
 dressed in a somewhat gaudy uniform a pair of pistols stuck in* 
 his belt a I road short sword at his side, and dagger and, though 
 evidently in complete military array,' without having discarded the 
 rich golden chain, which hung suspended ostentatiously around 
 his thick, short, bull-shaped neck. The guise of Chorley was 
 Spanish, and over his head, carried by one of his seamen in a 
 group of twenty of them, which followed him, he bore the flag of 
 Spain. This confirmed Harrison in all his apprehensions. He 
 saw that once again the Spaniard was about to strike at the colony, 
 in the assertion of an old claim put in by his monarch to all the 
 country then in the possession of the English, northward as far as 
 Virginia, and to the southwest the entire range, including the 
 Mississippi and some portion even of the territory beyond it. 
 Such was the vast ambition of nations in that day ; such the 
 vague grasp which the imagination took, of geographical limits 
 and expanse. In support of this claim, which, under the existing 
 circumstances of European convention, the Spanish monarch could 
 not proceed to urge by arms in any other manner the two 
 countries being then at peace at home the governor of the one 
 colony, that of Spain, was suffered and instigated to do that 
 which his monarch immediately dared not attempt; and from St. 
 Augustine innumerable inroads were daily projected into Georgia 
 and the Carolinas : the Spaniards, with their Indian allies, 
 penetrating, in some instances, almost to the gates of Charleston. 
 The Carolinians were not idle, and similar inroads were made 
 upon Florida ; the two parent nations, looking composedly upon a 
 warfare in the colonies, which gratified national animosity, with- 
 out perilling national security, and indulged them at a favourite 
 pastime, in a foreign battle field ; where they could help, with 
 contributions, their several champions, while sitting at home, 
 cheek-by-jowl, on terms of seeming amity and good fellowship. 
 This sort of warfare had been continued almost from the com
 
 282 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 raencement jf either settlement, and the result was a system of 
 foray into the enemy's province from time to time now of the 
 Spaniards, and now of the Carolinians. 
 
 Harrison was soon taught td see by the evidence before him, 
 that the Spaniard, on the presei-t occasion, had more deeply ma- 
 tured his plans than he had ever anticipated ; and that taking 
 advantage of the known discontents among the Indians, and of 
 that unwise cessation of watchfulness, which too much indicated 
 the confiding nature of the Carolinians, induced by a term of 
 repose, protracted somewhat longer than usual he had prepared 
 a mine which, he fondly hoped, and with good reason, would 
 result in the utter extermination of the intruders, whom they 
 loved to destroy, as on one sanguinary occasion their own inscription 
 phrased it, not so much because they were Englishmen, but 
 " because they were heretics." His success in the present adven- 
 ture, he felt assured, and correctly, would place the entire province 
 in the possession, as in his thought it was already in the right, 
 of his most Catholic Majesty. 
 
 Captain Chorley, the bucanier and Spanish emissary, for in those 
 times and that region, the two characters were not always unlike, 
 advanced boldly into the centre of the various assemblage. He 
 was followed by twenty stout seamen, the greater part of his crew. 
 These were armed chiefly with pikes and cutlasses. A few carried 
 pistols, a few muskets ; but generally speaking, the larger arms 
 seemed to have been regarded as unnecessary, and perhaps incon- 
 venient, in an affair requiring despatch and secrecy. As he 
 approached, Sanutee descended from the mound and advanced 
 towards him, with a degree of respect, which, while it was marked 
 and gracious, subtracted nothing from the lofty carriage and the 
 towering dignity which at the same time accompanied it. In a 
 few words of broken English, he explained to Chorley sundry of 
 their present and future proceedings detailed what was required 
 of him, in the rest of the ceremony; and having made him un- 
 derstand, which he did with some difficulty, he reascended the 
 mound, resuming his place at the side of the prophet, who all the 
 while, as if without noticing any thing going on around, had con- 
 tinued those fearful incantations to the war-god, which seemed to
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 283 
 
 make of himself a victim. He was intoxicated with 'his own 
 spells and incantations. His eye glared "with the light of mad- 
 ness his tongue hung forth between his clinched teeth, which 
 seemed every moment, when parting and gnashing, as if about to 
 sever it in two, while the slaver gathered about his mouth in 
 thick foam, and all his features were convulsed. At a signal 
 which he gave, while under this fury, a long procession of women, 
 headed by Malatchie, the executioner, made their appearance 
 from behind the hill, and advanced into the area. In their arms 
 six of them bore a gigantic figure, rudely hewn out of a tree, 
 with a head so carved as in some sort to resemble that of a man. 
 With hatchet and fire a rude human face had been wrought out 
 of the block, and by means of one paint or another, it had been 
 stained into something like expression. The scalp of some 
 slaughtered enemy was stuck upon the skull, and made to adhere, 
 with pitch extracted from the pine. The body, from the neck, 
 was left unhewn. This figure was stuck up in the midst of the 
 assmbly, in the sight of all, while the old women 'danced in wild 
 contortions round it, uttering, as they did so, a thousand invectives 
 in their own wild language. They charged it wiih all offences 
 comprised in their system of ethics. It was it, liar, and a thief 
 a traitor, and cheat a murderer, and without a Manneyto in 
 short, in a summary of their own they called it " English English 
 English." Having done this, they receded, leaving the area 
 clear of all but the unconscious image which they had so de- 
 nounced, ami sinking back behind the armed circle, they remained 
 for awhile in silence. 
 
 Previously taught in what he was to do, Chorley now advanced 
 alone, and striking a hatchet full in the face of the figure, li<- 
 cried aloud to the warriors around : 
 
 " Hark, at this English dog ! I strike my hatchet into his 
 skull. Who will do thus for the King of Spain ?" 
 
 Malatchie acted as interpreter in the present instance, and the 
 words had scarcely fallen from his lips, when Chinnabee, a chief 
 of the Coosaws, his eyes darting fire, and his whole face full of 
 malignant delight, rushed out from his clan, and seizing the 
 hatchet, followed up the blow by another, which sunk it deeply
 
 284 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 into the unconscious block, crying aloud, as he did so, in his own 
 language : 
 
 " The Coosaw, ha ! look, he strikes the skull of the English !" 
 and the fierce war-whoop of " Coosaw Sangarrah-me," followed 
 up the speech. 
 
 " So strikes the Cherah ! Cherah-hah, Cherah-me !" cried the 
 head warrior of that tribe, following the example of the Coosaw, 
 and sinking his hatchet also into the skull of the image. Another 
 and another, in like manner came forward, each chief, representing 
 a tribe or nation, being required to do so, showing his assent to 
 the war; until, in a moment of pause, believing that all were 
 done, Cftorley reapproached, and baring his cutlass as he did so, 
 with a face full of the passion which one might be supposed to 
 exhibit, when facing a deadly and a living foe, with a single stroke 
 ho lodged the weapon so deeply into the wood, that for a wliilc 
 its extrication was doubtful at the same time exclaiming fiercely : 
 
 " And so strikes Richard Chorley, not for Spain, nor France, 
 nor Indian not for any body, but on his own log for his own 
 wrong, and so would he strike again if the necks of all England 
 lay under his arm." 
 
 A strong armed Santee, who had impatiently waited his turn 
 while Chorley spoke, now came forward with his club a mon- 
 strous mace, gathered from the swamps, under the stroke of which 
 the image went down prostrate. Its fall was the signal for a 
 general shout and tumult among the crowd-, scarcely quieted, as a 
 new incident was brought in to enliven a performance, which, 
 though of invariable exercise among the primitive Indians, prepa- 
 ratory to all great occasions like the present, was yet too monoto- 
 nous not to need in the end some stirring variation.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 " And war is the great Moloch ; foi his feat, 
 Gather the human victims he requires, 
 With an unjjlutted appetite. He makes 
 Earth his grand table, spread with winding-shf.eU, 
 Man his attendant, who, with madness fit, 
 Serves his own brother up, nor heeds the prayer, 
 Groaned by a kindred nature, for reprieve." 
 
 BLOOD makes the taste for blood we teach the hound to 
 hunt the victim, for whose entrails he acquires an appetite. We 
 acquire such tastes ourselves from like indulgences. There is a 
 sort of intoxicating restlessness in crime that seldom suffers it to 
 stop at a solitary excess. It craves repetition and the relish so 
 expands with indulgence, that exaggeration becomes essential to 
 make it a stimulant. Until we have created this appetite, we 
 sicken at its bare contemplation. But once created, it is impatient 
 of employment, and it is wonderful to note its progress. Thus, 
 the young Nero wept when first called upon to sign the warrant 
 commanding the execution of a criminal. But the ice once 
 broken, he never suffered it to close again. Murder was his com- 
 panion blood his banquet his chief stimulant licentiousness 
 uorrible licentiousness. He had found out a new luxury. 
 
 The philosophy which teaches this, is common to experience all 
 the world over. It was not unknown to. the Yemassees. Dis-' 
 trusting the strength of their hostility to the English, the chief 
 instigators of the proposed insurrection, as we have seen, deemed 
 it necessary to appeal to this appetite, along with a native super- 
 stition. Their battle-god called for a victim, and the prophet pro- 
 mulgated the decree. A chosen band of warriors was despatched 
 to secure a white man ; and in subjecting him to the fire-torture, 
 the Yemassees were to feel the provocation of that thirsting im- 
 pulse which craves a continual renewal of its stimulating indul- 
 gence. Perhaps one of the most natural and necessity agents o*
 
 286 -THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 man, in his progress through life, is the desire to destroy. It is 
 this which subjects the enemy it is this that prompts him to 
 adventure which enables him to contend with danger, and tc 
 flout at death which carries him into the interminable forest 
 and impels the ingenuity into exercise which furnishes him with a 
 weapon to contend with its savage possessors. It is not surprising-, 
 if, prompted by dangerous influences, in our ignorance, we pamper 
 this natural agent into a disease, which jreys at length upon 
 ourselves. 
 
 The party despatched for this victim had been successful. The 
 peculiar cry was, at length, heard from the thickets, indicating 
 their success ; and as it rang through the wide area, the crowd 
 gave way and parted for the new comers, who were hailed with a 
 degree of satisfaction, extravagant enough, unless we consider the 
 importance generally attached by the red-men to the requisitions 
 of the prophet, and the propitiation of their war-god. It was on 
 the possession and sacrifice of a living victim, that they rested 
 their hope of victory in the approaching conflict. Such was the 
 prediction of the prophet such the decree of their god of war 
 and for the due celebration of this terrible sacrifice, the preparatory 
 ceremonies had been delayed. 
 
 They were delayed no longer. With shrill cries and the most 
 savage contortions, not to say convulsions of body, the assembled 
 multitude hailed the entree of the detachment sent forth upon this 
 expedition. They had been eminently successful ; having taken 
 their captive, without themselves losing a drop of blood. Upon 
 this, the prediction had founded their success. Not so the prisoner. 
 Though unarmed, he had fought desperately, and his enemies were 
 compelled to wound in order to secure him. He was only over- 
 come by numbers, and the sheer physical weight of their crowding 
 bodies. 
 
 They dragged him into the ring, the war-dance all the time 
 going on around him. From the copse, close at hand, in which 
 he lay concealed, Harrison could distinguish, at intervals, the 
 features of the captive. He knew him at a glance, as a poor 
 labourer, named Macnarmira, an Irishman, who had gone jobbing 
 atxmt, in various ways, throughput the settlement He was a fine-
 
 THE YEMASSEli. 287 
 
 locking, fresh, muscular man not more than thirty. Surrounded 
 by howling savages, threatened with a death the most terrible, the 
 brave fellow sustained himself with the courage and firmness 
 which belongs so generally to his countrymen. His long, black 
 hair, deeply saturated and matted with his blood, which oozed out 
 from sundry bludgeon-wounds upon the head, was wildly distri- 
 buted in masses over his face and forehead. His full, round 
 cheeks, were marked by knife-wounds, the result also of his fierce 
 defence against his captors. His hands were bound, but his tongue 
 was unfe'tered ; and as they danced and howled about him, his 
 eye gleamed forth in fury and derision, while his words were those 
 of defiance and contempt. 
 
 " Ay ! ye may screech and scream, ye red divils ye'd be after 
 seeing how a jontleman would burn in the fire, would ye, for your 
 idification -and delight. But it's not Teddy Macnamara, that your 
 fires and your arrows will iver scare, ye divils ; so begin, boys, as 
 soon as ye've a mind to, and don't be too dilicate in your doings." 
 
 He spoke a language, so far as they understood it, perfectly 
 congenial with their notion of what should become a warrior. 
 His fearless contempt of death, his haughty defiance of their skill 
 in the arts of torture his insolent abuse were all so much in his 
 favour. They were proofs of the true brave, and they found, 
 under the bias of their habits and education, an added pleasure 
 in the belief, that he would stand well the torture, and afford 
 them a protracted enjoyment of the spectacle. His execrations, 
 poured forth freely as they forced him into the area, were 
 equivalent to one of their own death-songs, and they regarded 
 it as his. 
 
 He was not so easily compelled in the required direction. Un- 
 able in any other way to oppose them, he gave them as much 
 trouble as he could, and in no way sought to promote his own 
 progress. This was good policy, perhaps; for this passive resistance 
 the most annoying of all its forms, was not unlikely to bring 
 about an impatient blow, which might save him from the torture. 
 In another case, such might have been the result of the course 
 taken by Macnamara ; but now, the prophecy was too important 
 UD object ; and the red mon can be politic enough in their passiom
 
 288 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 when they will. Though they handled him roughly enough, his 
 captors yet forbore any excessive violence. Under a shower of 
 kicks, cuffs, and blows from every quarter, the poor fellow, 
 still cursing them to the last, hissing at and spitting upon them, 
 was forced to a tree; and in a few moments tightly lashed back 
 against it A thick cord secured him around the body to its over- 
 grown trunk, while his hands, forced up in a direct line above his 
 head, were fastened to the tree with withes the two palms turned 
 outwards, nearly meeting, and so well corded as to be perfectly 
 immovable. 
 
 A cold chill ran through all the veins of Harrison, and he grasp- 
 ed his knife with a clutch as tenacious as that of his fast-clinched 
 teeth, while he looked, from his place of concealment, upon these 
 dreadful preparations for the Indian torture. The captive was 
 seemingly less sensible of its terrors. All the while, with a tongue 
 that seemed determined to supply, so far as it might, the forced 
 inactivity of all other members, he shouted forth his scorn and 
 execrations. 
 
 " The pale-face will sing his death-song," cried a young warrior 
 in the ears of the victim, as he flourished his tomahawk around his 
 head. The sturdy Irishman did not comprehend the language, but 
 he did the action, and his answer seemed a full compliance with 
 the requisitions. His speech was a shout or scream, and his words 
 were those of desperate defiance. 
 
 " Ay, ye miserable red nagers, ye don't frighten Teddy Mac- 
 namara now so aisily. He is none of yer spalpeens, honies, to be 
 frightened by your bows and your pinted sticks, ye red nagers. It 
 isn't your knives, nor your hatchets, that's going to make Teddy 
 beg yer pardon, and ax for yer marcies. I don't care for your 
 knives, and your hatchets, at all at all, ye red divils. Not I by 
 my faith, and my own culd father, that was. a Teddy before me." 
 
 They took him at his word, and their preparations were soon 
 made for the torture. A hundred torches of the gummy pine were 
 placed to kindle in a neighbouring fire a hundred old women stood 
 ready to employ them. These were to be applied as a sort of 
 cautery, to the arrow and knife-wounds which the more youthful 
 savages were expected, in their sports, to inflict. It was upon theii
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 289 
 
 captives, in this manner, that the youth of the nation was practised. 
 It was in this school that the boys were prepared to become men 
 to inHict pain as well as to submit to it. To these two classes, 
 for this was one of the peculiar features of the Indian torture, the 
 nre-sacrifice, in its initial penalties, was commonly assigned ; ana 
 both of them were ready at hand to engage in it. How beat the 
 heart of Harrison with conflicting emotions, in the shelter of the 
 adjacent bush, as he surveyed each step in the prosecution of these 
 horrors ! 
 
 They began. A dozen youth, none over sixteen, came forward 
 and ranged themselves in front of the prisoner. 
 
 " And for what do ye face me down after that sort, ye dirty little 
 red nagers ?" cried the sanguine prisoner. 
 
 They answered him with a whoop a single shriek, and the face 
 of the brave fellow paled then, for a moment, with that tudden 
 yell that mere promise of the war the face which had not paled 
 in the actual conflict through which he had already gone. But it 
 was for a moment only, and he nerved himself for the proper en- 
 durance of the more dreadful trials which were to succeed and from 
 which there was no escape. The whoop of the young savages was 
 succeeded by a simultaneous discharge of all their arrows, aimed, 
 as would appear from the result, only at those portions of his per- 
 son which were not vital. This was the common exercise, and 
 their adroitness was wonderful. They placed the shaft where they 
 pleased. Thus, the arrow of one penetrated one palm, while that 
 of another, almost at the same instant, was driven deep into the 
 other. One cheek was grazed by a third, while a fourth scarified 
 the opposite. A blunted shaft struck the victim full in the mouth, 
 and arrested, in the middle, his usual execration " Ye bloody red 
 nagers !" and there never were lingers of a hand so evenly separated 
 one from the other, as those of Macnamara, by the admirably-aimed 
 arrows of those embryo warriors. But the endurance of the captive 
 was proof against all their torture ; and while every member of his 
 person attested the felicity of their aim, he still continued to shout 
 his abuse, not only to his immediate assailants, but to the old war 
 riors, and the assembled multitude, gathering around, and looking 
 composedly on now approving this or that peculiar hit, and
 
 290 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 encouraging the young beginner with a cheer. He bore all hi* 
 tortures with the most unflinching fortitude, and a courage that, 
 extorting their freest admiration, was quite as much the subject of 
 cheer with the warriors as were the arrow-shots which sometimes 
 provoked its exhibition. 
 
 At length, throwing aside the one instrument, the young warriuiis 
 carne forward with the tomahawk. They were far more cautious 
 in the use of this fatal weapon, for, as their present object was not 
 less the prolonging of their own exercise than of the prisuiieiV 
 tortures, it was their wish to avoid wounding him fatally or even 
 severely. Their chief delight was in stinging the captive into an 
 exhibition of imbeol 1 ^ and fruitless anger, or terrifying him into 
 ludicrous apprehensions. They had no hope of the latter source 
 of amusement from the firmness of the victim before them ; and to 
 rouse his impotent rage, was the chief study in their thought. 
 
 With words of mutual encouragement, and boasting, garrulously 
 enough, each of his superior skill, they strove to rival one another 
 in the nicety of their aim and execution. The chief object now, 
 was barely to miss the part at which they aimed. One planted 
 the tomahawk in the tree so directly over the head of his captive, as 
 to divide the huge tuft of hair which stood up massively in that 
 quarter : and great was their exultation and loud their laughter, 
 when the head thus jeoparded, very naturally, under the momen- 
 tary impulse, was writhed about from the stroke, just at the mo- 
 ment when another hatchet, aimed to lie on one side of his cheek, 
 clove the ear which it would have barely escaped had the captive 
 continued immovable. Bleeding and suffering from these blows 
 and hurts, not a solitary groan however escaped the victim. The 
 stout-hearted Irishman continued to defy and to denounce his tor- 
 mentors in language which, if only partially comprehended by his 
 enemies, was yet illustrated, with sufficient animation, by the fierce 
 light gleaming from his eye with a blaze like that of madness, and 
 in the unblenching firmness of his cheek. 
 
 " And what for do ye howl, ye red-skinned divils, as if ye nevei 
 seed a jontleman in the troubles, in all yer born days before? Be 
 aisy, now, and shoot away with your pinted sticks, ye nagers, 
 hoot away and bad luck to ye, ye spalpeens; sure it isn't Tedd Mac
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 291 
 
 naraara that's afeerd of what ye tan do, ye red divils. If it's the fun 
 ye'r after now, honeys, the sport that's something like why, put 
 your knife over this thong, and help this dilicate little fist to one 
 of the bit shilalahs yonder. Do now, pretty crathers, do and see 
 what fun will come out of it. Ye'll not be after loving it at all, 
 at all, I'm thinking, ye monkeys, and ye alligators, and ye red 
 nagers ; and them's the best names for ye, ye ragamuffin divils 
 that ye are." 
 
 There was little intermission in his abuse. It kept due pace 
 with their tortures, which, all this time, continued. The toma- 
 hawks continued to whiz about him on every side ; and each close 
 approximation of the instrument only called from him a newer sort 
 of curse. Harrison was more than once prompted to rush forth 
 desperately, at all hazards, in the hope to rescue the fearless cap- 
 tive. His noble hardihood, his fierce courage, his brave defiance, 
 commanded all the sympathies of the concealed spectator. But he 
 had to withstand them. It would have been madness and useless 
 self-sacrifice, to have shown himself at such a moment, and the 
 game was suffered to proceed without interruption. 
 
 It happened, however, as it would seem in compliance with a 
 part of one of the demands of the captive that one of the toma- 
 hawks, thrown so as to rest betwixt his two uplifted palms, fell 
 short, and striking the hide, a few inches below, which fastened his 
 wrists to the tree, entirely separated it, and gave freedom to his 
 arms. Though still incapable of any effort for his release, as the 
 thongs tightly girded his body, and were connected on the other 
 side of the tree, the fearless sufferer, with his freed fingers, proceeded 
 to pluck from his body, amid a shower of darts, the arrows which 
 had penetrated him in every part. These, with a shout of defiance, 
 he hurled back towards his assailants, they answering in similar 
 style with another shout and a new discharge of arrows, which 
 again penetrated his person in every direction, inflicting the greatest 
 pain, though carefully avoiding any vital region. And now as if 
 impatient of their fo/bearance, the boys were made to give way, 
 and, each armed with her hissing and resinous torch, the old wo- 
 men approached, howling and dancing, with shrill voices and an 
 action of body frightfully demoniac. One after another, thej
 
 292 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 rushed up to the prisoner, and, with fiendish fervour, thrust the 
 blazing torches to his shrinking body, wherever a knife, an arrow> 
 or a tomahawk had left a wound. The torture of this infliction 
 greatly exceeded all to which he had been previously subjected ; 
 and with a howl, the unavoidable acknowledgment forced from 
 nature by the extremity of pain, scarcely less horrible than that 
 which they unitedly sent up around him, the captive dashed out 
 his hands, and grasping one of the most forward among his un- 
 sexed tormentors, he firmly held her with one hand, while with 
 the other he possessed himself of the blazing torch which she 
 bore. Hurling her backwards, in the next moment, among the 
 crowd of his enemies, with a resolution from despair, he applied 
 the torch to the thongs which bound him to the tree and while 
 his garments shrivelled and flamed, and while the flesh was blis- 
 tered and burned with the terrible application, resolute as desperate, 
 he kept the flame riveted to the suffering part, until the wythes 
 that fastened his body to the tree, began.to crackle, to blaze in him, 
 and finally to break and separate ! 
 
 His limbs were free. There was life and hope in the conscious- 
 ness. A. tide of fresh and buoyant emotions, actually akin to joy, 
 rushed through his bosom, and he shouted aloud, with a cry of 
 delight and exultation, in the consciousness of freedom from bonds 
 and a situation which had been a mockery to the manhood and 
 courage in his soul. He bounded forward with the cry. His gar- 
 ments were on fire. The flames curled over him, but he did not 
 seem to feel or fear them. While the red warriors wondered, not 
 knowing what to expect, he still further confounded them by that 
 over head and heels evolution which is called the somersault, 
 which carried him, a mass of fire, into the centre of a crowded 
 circle of men, boys, and women. This scattered them in wild 
 confusion. A few blows were struck at him aimlessly by warriorr 
 as they darted aside ; but they left him free, and with a cleai 
 track. The blazing mass was a surprise and terror, and the captive 
 rolled over with impunity, the flames being soon extinguished in 
 the long green grasses of the plain. Sore, scorched, suffering, he 
 rose to his feet, shook out his hands in defiance, and with a wild 
 yell, not unworthy to have issued from the throats of the savages
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 293 
 
 themselves, the captive darted away in flight, and, for a moment, 
 without any obstacle to freedom. 
 
 But the hope was short-lived in the bosom of the fugitive. The 
 old warriors now took up the cudgels. They had suffered the boys 
 to enjoy their sports, which, but for this unexpected event, might 
 have continued much longer; but they were not willing to lose 
 the victim decreed for sacrifice. As Macnamara darted away, they 
 threw the youth out of the path, and dashed after him in pursuit. 
 Escape was impossible, even had the Irishman possessed the best 
 legs in the world. The plain was filled with enemies, and though 
 the forest lay immediately beside it, and though the necessities as 
 well as instincts of the fugitive prompted him to seek its immediate 
 shelter, yet how should he escape so many pursuers, and these 
 men born of the forest thickets ? They were soon upon his heels 
 The poor fellow was still singularly vigorous. He possessed rare 
 powers of endurance, and his hurts were those of the flesh only, 
 many of them only skin deep. His very tortures proved so many 
 spurs and goads to flight. He was covered with blisters ; and the 
 arrow smarts were stinging him in arms, and thighs, and legs, like 
 so many scarificators. But the effect was to work up his mind to 
 a fearful energy ; despair endowing him with a strength which, 
 under no other condition, he could have displayed. Very desperate 
 was his attempt at flight. He shouted as he fled. He dashed 
 away right and left ; narrowly grazing the great pine, barely 
 dodging the branches of the umbrageous and low-spreading oak, 
 and bounding over bush and log with the fleetness of the antelope. 
 He used his newly-won freedom nimbly, and with wonderful 
 I'xt.Tcise of agility and muscle ; but was doomed to use it vainlv. 
 He could not escape ; but he might involve another in his fear- 
 ful fate! His headlong flight conducted him to the very coppice 
 in which Harrison lay concealed ! 
 
 The cavalier beheld his peril from this unexpected cause of 
 danger; but ihere was no retreat or evasion. The event had 
 occurred too suddenly. He prepared for the result with the 
 utmost possible coolness. He drew his knife and kept close to 
 the cover of the fallen tree alongside of which he had laid hiin- 
 wlf down. Had the flying Macnamara seen this tree so as to hav;
 
 294 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 avoided it, Harrison might still have maintained his concealment. 
 But the fugitive, unhappily, looked out for no such obstruction. 
 He thought only of flight, and his legs were exercised at the 
 expense of his eyes. A long-extended branch, shooting out from 
 the tree, interposed, and he saw it not. His feet were suddenly 
 entangled, and he fell between the arm and the trunk of the tree. 
 Before he could rise or recover, his pursuers were upon him. He 
 had half gained his feet ; and one of his hands, in promoting this 
 object, rested upon the tree itself, on the opposite side of which 
 Harrison lay quiet, while the head of Macnamara was just rising 
 above it. At that moment a tall chief of the Seratees, with a 
 huge club, dashed the now visible skull down upon the trunk. The 
 blow was fatal the victim uttered not even a groan, and the 
 spattering brains were driven wide, and into the upturned face of 
 Harrison. 
 
 There was no more concealment for the latter after that, and, start- 
 ing to his feet, in another moment his knife was thrust deep into the 
 bosom of the astonished Seratee, before he had resumed the swing 
 of his ponderous weapon. The Indian sank back, with a single 
 cry, upon those who followed him half paralysed, with himself, 
 at the new enemy whom they had conjured up. But their panic 
 was momentary, and the next instant saw fifty of them crowding 
 upon the Englishman. He placed himself against a tree, hopeless, 
 but determined to struggle to the last. But he was surrounded in 
 a moment his arms pinioned from behind, and knives from all 
 quarters glittering around him, and aiming at his breast. What 
 might have been his fate under the excitement of the scene and 
 circumstances may easily be conjectured, for the red men were 
 greatly excited they had tasted blood ; and, already, the brother 
 of the Seratee chief a chief himself, had rushed into the circle, 
 aud with uplifted mace, was about to assert his personal claim to 
 revenge the death of his brother a claim which all others were 
 prepared to yield. But, fortunately for the captive, there were 
 other motives of action among the red men beside revenge. The 
 threatened death by the mace of the Seratee was arrested the 
 blow was averted the weapon stricken aside and intercepted by 
 the Luge staff of no less a person than the prophet
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 295 
 
 " He is mine the ghost of Chaharattee, my brother, is waiting 
 for that of his murderer. I must hang his teeth on my neck," 
 was the fierce cry, in his own language, of the surviving Seratee, 
 when his weapon was thus arrested. But the prophet had his 
 answer in a sense not to 4>e withstood by the superstitious savage 
 
 "Does the prophet speak for himself or for Manneyto? Is 
 Manneyto a woman that we may say, Wherefore thy word to the 
 prophet? Has not Manneyto spoken, and will not the chief 
 obey ? Lo ! this is our victim, and the words of Manneyto are 
 truth. He hath said one victim one English for the sacrifice, 
 and but one before we sing the battle-song before we go on the 
 war-path of our enemies. Is not his word truth ? This blood 
 says it is truth. We may not slay another, but on the red trail 
 of the English. The knife must be drawn and the tomahawk 
 lifted on the ground of the enemy, but the land of Manneyto is 
 holy, unless for his sacrifice. Thou must not strike the captive. 
 He is captive to the Yemassee." 
 
 " He is the captive to the brown lynx of Seratee is he not 
 under his club ? " was the fierce reply. 
 
 " Will the Seratee stand up against Manneyto ? Hear ! That 
 is his voice of thunder, and see, the eye which he sends forth in 
 the lightning ! " 
 
 The auspicious bursting of the cloud at that moment the vivid 
 flashes which lightened up the heavens and the forest with a blind- 
 ing glory, seemed to confirm the solemn claim of the prophet. 
 Sullenly the Seratee chief submitted to the power which he might 
 not openly withstand. But baffled in his attempt on the life of 
 the prisoner, he yet claimed him as his captive, and demanded 
 possession of him. But to this the prophet had his answer also. 
 
 " He is the captive of the Manneyto of the Yemassee ; on the 
 ground sacred to Manneyto.**
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 "Cords for the warrior he shall see the fray 
 His arm shall share not a worse doom than death, 
 For him whose heart, at every stroke, must bleed 
 Whose fortune is the stake. and vet denied 
 All throw to win it." 
 
 THERE was no resisting this decree of the Prophet. The Seratee 
 chief was silenced. The people were submissive. They were 
 given to understand that their new captive was to be reserved for 
 the sacrifice at the close of the campaign, when, as they con- 
 fidently expected, they were to celebrate their complete victory 
 over the Carolinians. Meanwhile, he was taken back, and under 
 proper custodians, to the place where the ceremonies were still to 
 be continued. The war-dance was begun in the presence of thu 
 prisoner. He looked down upon the preparations for a conflict, no 
 longer doubtful, between the savages and his people. He watched 
 their movements, heard their arrangements, saw their direction, 
 knew their design, yet had no power to strike in fur the succour or 
 the safety of those in whom only he lived. What were his emo- 
 tions in that survey ? Who shall describe them 1 
 
 They began the war-dance, the young warriors, the boys, and 
 women that terrible but fantastic whirl regulated by occasional 
 strokes upon the uncouth drum and an attenuated blast from the 
 more flexible native bugle. That dance of death a dance, which, 
 perfectly military in its character, calling for every possible position 
 or movement common to Indian strategy, moves them all with an 
 extravagant sort of grace ; and if contemplated without reference 
 to the savage purposes which it precedes, is singularly pompous 
 and imposing ; wild, it is true, but yet exceedingly unaffected and 
 easy, as it is one of the most familiar practices of Indian education. 
 In this way, by extreme physical exercise, they provoke a required 
 degree of mental enthusiasm. With this object the aborigines
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 297 
 
 have many kinds of dances, and others of even more interesting 
 character. Among many of the tribes these exhibitions are lite 
 rally so many chronicles. They are the only records, left by tradi- 
 tion, of leading events in their history which they were instituted 
 to commemorate. An epoch in the national progress a new dis- 
 covery a new achievement was frequently distinguished by the 
 invention of a dance or game, to which a name was given signi- 
 ficant of the circumstance. Thus, any successful hunt, out of their 
 usual routine, was embodied in a series of evolutions at the gather- 
 ing for a feast, exhibiting frequently in sport, what had really taken 
 place. In this way, handed from tribe to tribe, and from genera- 
 tion U generation, it constituted a portion, not merely of the 
 history of the past, but of the education of the future. This edu- 
 cation fitted them alike for the two great exercises of most barba- 
 rians, the battle and the chase. The weapons of the former wen- 
 also those of the latter pursuit, and the joy of success in either 
 object was expressed in the same manner. The dance and song 
 formed the beginning, as they certainly made the conclusion of all 
 their adventures ; and whether in defeat or victory, there was no 
 omission of the practice. Thus we have the song of war of scalp- 
 taking of victory of death ; not to speak of the thousand vari- 
 ous forms by which their feelings were expressed in song, in the 
 natural progress of the seasons. These songs, in most cases, ca!l>d 
 for corresponding dances; and the Indian warrior, otherwise seem- 
 ing rather a machine than a mortal, adjusted, on an inspiring 
 occasion, the strains of the prophet and the poet, to the wild and 
 various action of the Pythia. The elements of all uncultivated 
 people are the same. The early Greeks, in their stern endurance 
 of torment, in their sports and exercises, were exceedingly like the 
 North American savages. The Lacedaemonians went to battle with 
 songs and dances ; a similar practice obtained among the Jews ; 
 and one particularly, alike of the Danes and Saxons, was to usher 
 in the combat with wild and discordant anthems. 
 
 The survey was curious to Harrison, but it was also terrible. 
 Conscious as he was, not merely of his own, but of the danger of 
 the colony, he could not help feeling the strange and striking 
 romance of his ">wn situation Bound to a tree helpless, hope- 
 
 13*
 
 298 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 less a stranger, a prisoner, and destined to the sacrifice the 
 thick night around him a thousand enemies, dark, dusky, fierce 
 savages, half intoxicated with that wild physical action which has 
 its drunkenness, not less than wine. Their wild distortions their 
 hell-kindled eyes their barbarous sports and weapons the sud- 
 den and demoniac shrieks from the women the occasional burst 
 of song, pledging the singer to the most diabolical achievements, 
 mingled up strangely in a discord which had its propriety, with 
 the clatter of the drum, and the long melancholy note of the bugle. 
 And then, that high tumulus that place of skulls the bleached 
 bones of centuries past peering through its sides, and speaking for 
 the abundant fulness of the capacious mansion-house of death 
 within ! The awful scene of torture, and the subsequent unscrupu- 
 lous murder of the heroic Irishman the presence of the gloomy 
 prophet in attendance upon the sacred fire, which he nursed care- 
 fully upon the mound the little knot of chiefs, consisting of Sanu- 
 tee, Ishiagaska, and others, not to speak of the Spanish agent, 
 Choiiey in close council in his sight, but removed from hearing 
 these, and the consciousness of his own situation, while they brought 
 to the heart of the Cavalier an added feeling of hopelessness, could 
 not fail to awaken in his mind a sentiment of wonder and admira- 
 tion, the immediate result of his excited thoughts and fancy. 
 
 But the dance was over at a signal from the prophet. He saw 
 that the proper feeling of excitation had been attained. The demon 
 was aroused, and, once aroused, was sleepless. The old women 
 waved their torches and rushed headlong through the woods 
 shouting and shrieking while the warriors, darting about with the 
 most savage yells, struck their knives and hatchets into the neigh- 
 bouring trees, giving each the name of an Englishman whom he 
 knew, and howling out the sanguinary promise of the scalp-eong, 
 at every stroke inflicted upon the unconscious trunk. 
 
 " Sangarrah-me, Sangarrah-me, Yemassee" was the cry of each 
 chief to his particular division ; and as they arranged themselves 
 under their several commands, Harrison was enabled to form some 
 idea of the proposed destination of each party. To Ish'agaska and 
 Chorley, he saw assigned a direction which he readily conjectured 
 would lead them to the Block House, and the settlement in the
 
 THE YEMASSJ6E. 299 
 
 immediate neighbourhood, as it was not reasonable to suppose that 
 the latter would desire any duty carrying him far from his vessel. 
 To another force the word Coosaw sufficiently indicated Beaufort 
 as the point destined for its assault ; and thus, party after party 
 was despatched in one direction or another, until but a single spot 
 of the whole colony remained unthreatened with an assailant, and 
 that was Charleston. The reservation was sufficiently accounted 
 for, as Sanutee, and the largest division of the Yemassee forces, 
 remained unappropriated. The old chief had reserved this, the 
 most dangerous and important part of the adventure, to himself. 
 
 A shrill cry an unusual sound broke upon the silence, and 
 the crowd was gone in that instant ; all the warriors, with Sanu- 
 tee at their head. The copse concealed them from the sight of 
 Harrison, who, in another moment, foujid himself more closely 
 grappled than before. A couple of tomahawks waved before his 
 eyes in the glare of the torches borne in the hands of the warriors 
 who secured him. No resistance could have availed him, and, 
 cursing his ill fortune, and suffering the most excruciating of mental 
 griefs as he thought of the progress of the fate which threatened 
 his people, he made a merit of necessity, and offering ns obstacle 
 to the will of his captors, he was carried to Pocota-ligo bound 
 with thongs and destined for the sacrifice which was to follow hard 
 upon their triumph. Such was the will of the prophet of Man- 
 neyto, and ignorance does not often question the decrees of super- 
 stition. 
 
 Borne along with the crowd, Harrison entered Pocota-ligo under 
 a motley guard and guidance. He had been intrusted to the care 
 of a few superannuated old warriors, who were deemed sufficient for 
 the service of keeping him a prisoner ; but they were numerously 
 attended. The mob of the Yemassees for they had their mobs 
 as well as the more civilized consisted of both sexes ; and when 
 we reflect upon the usual estimation placed upon women by all 
 barbarous people, we shall not be surprised to know that, on the 
 present occasion, the sex were by far the most noisy if not the 
 most numerous. Their cries savage and sometimes indecent 
 gestures their occasional brutality, and the freedom and frequency 
 with which they inflicted blows upon the captive as he approached
 
 300 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 them on his way to prison, showed them to have reached a con 
 dition, in which they possessed all the passions of the one sex, 
 without the possession of their powers ; to have lost the gentle 
 nature of the woman without acquiring the magnanimity of the 
 man, which is the result of his consciousness of strength. We 
 must add, however, in justice to the sex, that the most active par- 
 ticipants in the torture of the captives of the red-men are mostly 
 old women and boys. The young girls rarely show themselves 
 active in such employments. On the present occasion, these old 
 hags, bearing torches which they waved wildly in air as they 
 ran, hurried along by the side of Harrison, urging him on with 
 smart blows, which were painful and annoying, rather than dan- 
 gerous. Some of them sang for him in their own language 1 , songs 
 sometimes of taunt, but frequently of downright blackguardism. 
 And here we may remark, that it is rather too much the habit to 
 speak of the Indians, at home and in their native character, as 
 sternly and indifferently cold people after the fashion of the elder 
 Cato, who used to say that he never suffered his wife to embrace 
 him, except when it thundered adding, by way of jest, that he 
 was therefore never happy except when Jupiter was pleased to 
 thunder. We should be careful not to speak of them as we casuallv 
 see them, when, conscious of our superiority, and unfamiliar with 
 our language, they are necessarily taciturn ; as it is the pride of 
 an Indian to hide his deficiencies. With a proper policy, which 
 might greatly benefit upon circulation, he conceals his ignorance 
 in silence. In his own habitation, uninfluenced by drink or any 
 form of degradation, and unrestrained by the presence of superiors, 
 he is sometimes even a jester delights in a joke, practical or 
 otherwise, and is not scrupulous about its niceness or propriety. In 
 his council he is fond of speaking ; glories in long talks ; and, as 
 he grows old, if you incline a willing ear, even becomes garrulous. 
 Of course, all these habits are restrained by circumstances. He 
 dees not chatter when he fights or hunts, and when he goes to 
 make a treaty, and never presumes to say more than he has been 
 taught by his people. 
 
 The customary habit of the Yemassees was not departed from 
 on the present occasion. The mob had nuking of forbearance
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 3UJ 
 
 towards the prisoner, and they showed lut little taciturnity, 
 flootings and howlings shriekings and shoutings confused cries 
 yells of laughter hisses of scorn here and there a fragment of 
 song, either of battle or ridicule, gathering, as it were, by a 
 common instinct, into a chorus of fifty voices most effectually 
 banished silence from her usual night dominion in the sacred town 
 of Pocota-ligo. In every dwelling for the hour was not yet late 
 the torch blazed brightly the entrances were thronged with 
 their inmates, and not a tree but gave shelter to its own peculiar 
 assemblage. Curiosity to behold a prisoner, destined by the 
 unquestionable will of the prophet to the great sacrifice which 
 should give gratitude to the Mauneyto for the victory which such 
 a pledge was most confidently anticipated to secure, led them 
 forward in droves ; so that, when Harrison arrived in the centre oi 
 the town, the path became almost entirely obstructed by the dense 
 and still gathering masses pressing upon them. The way, indeed, 
 would have been completely impassable but for the hurrying 
 torches carried forward by the attending women; who, waving 
 them about recklessly over the heads of the crowd, distributed the 
 melted gum in every direction, and effectually compelled the more 
 obtrusive to recede into less dangerous places. 
 
 Thus marshalled, his guards bore the captive onward to the 
 safe-keeping of a sort of block-house a cell of logs, some twelve 
 feet square, rather more compactly built than was the wont of 
 Indian dwellings usually, and without any aperture save the single 
 one at which he was forced to enter. Not over secure, however, 
 as a prison, it was yet made to answer the purpose, and what it 
 lacked in strength and security was, perhaps, more than supplied 
 in the presence of the guard put upon it. Thrusting their prisoner, 
 through the narrow entrance, into a damp apartment, the earthen 
 floor of which was strewn with pine trash, they secured the door 
 with thongs on the outside, and with the patience of old warriors, 
 they threw themselves directly before it. Seldom making captives, 
 unless as slaves, and the punishments of their own people being 
 usually of a summary character, will account for the want of skill 
 among the Yemassees in the construction of their dungeon. Th*
 
 802 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 present answered all their purposes, simply, perhaps, because it 
 had answered the purposes of their fathers. This is reason enough, 
 in a thousand respects, with the more civilized. The prison-house 
 to which Harrison was borne, had been in existence a century.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 " Why, this M magic, and it break* hu bond*, 
 It give* him freedom." 
 
 HARRISON was one of those true philosophers who know alwayg 
 Low to keep themselves for better times. As he felt that resistance, 
 at that moment, must certainly be without any good result, he 
 quietly enough suffered himself to be borne to prison. He neither 
 halted nor hesitated, nor pleaded, nor opposed, but went forward, 
 offering no obstacle, with as much wholesome good-will and com- 
 pliance as if the proceeding were perfectly agreeable to him. He 
 endured, with no little show of patience, all the blows and buffet- 
 ings so freely bestowed upon him by his feminine enemies ; and 
 vf he did not altogether smile under the infliction, he at least took 
 good care to avoid any ebullition of anger, which as it was there 
 impotent,, must necessarily have been a weakness, and would most 
 certainly have been entirely thrown away. Among the Indians, 
 this was by far the better policy. They .can admire the courage, 
 though they hate the possessor. Looking round amid the crowd, 
 Harrison thought he could perceive many evidences of this senti- 
 ment. Sympathy and pity he also made out, in the looks of a few 
 One thing he did certainly observe a generous degree of forbear- 
 ance, as well of taunt as of buffet, on the part of all the better-look- 
 ing among the spectators. Nor did he deceive himself. The in- 
 solent portion of the rabble formed a class especially for such pur- 
 poses as the present ; and to them, its duties were left exclusively. 
 The forbearance of the residue looked to him like kindness, and 
 with the elasticity of his nature, hope came with the idea. 
 
 Nor was he mistaken. Many eyes in that assembly looked upon 
 him with regard and commiseration. The firm but light tread of 
 his step the upraised, unabashed, the almost laughing eye the 
 frae play into liveliness of the muscles of his mouth sometime*
 
 304 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 curled into contempt, and again closely compressed, as in defiance 
 together with his fine, manly form, and even carriage were ali 
 calculated to call for the respect, if for no warmer feeling of the 
 spectators. They all knew the bravery of the Coosah-moray-te, or 
 the Coosaw-killer many of them had felt his kindness and liberal- 
 ity, and, but for the passionate nationality of the Indian character, 
 the sympathy of a few might at that moment have worked actively 
 in his favour, and with the view to his release. 
 
 There was one in particular, among the crowd, who regarded 
 him with a melancholy satisfaction. It was Matiwan, the wife of 
 Sanutee. As the whole nation had gathered to the sacred town, 
 in which, during the absence of the warriors, they found shelter, 
 she was now a resident of Pocota-ligo. One among, but not of the 
 rabble, she surveyed the prisoner with an emotion which only the 
 heart of the bereaved mother may define. " Ah ! " she muttered 
 to herself, in her own language, " ah ! even thus lofty, and hand- 
 some, and brave thus with a big heart, and a bright eye, walked 
 and looked the son of Matiwan and the great chief, Sanutee, 
 when the young chief was the beloved brave of the Yemassee. Is 
 there a living mother of the Coosah-moray-te, beyond the great 
 waters, who loves her son, as the poor Matiwan loved the boy 
 Occonestoga ?" The strange enquiry filled the thoughts of the 
 woman. Sympathy has wings as well as tears, and her eyes took 
 a long journey in imagination to that foreign land. She saw the 
 mother of the captive with a grief at heart like her own ; and her 
 own sorrows grew deeper at the survey. Then came a strange 
 wish to serve that pale mother to save her from an anguish such 
 as hers : then she looked upon the captive, and her memory grew 
 active ; ehe knew him she had seen him before in the great town 
 of the pale-faces he appeared a chief among them, and so had 
 been called by her father, the old Warrior Etiwee, who, always an 
 excellent friend to the English, had taken her, with the boy Occo- 
 nestoga on a visit to Charleston. She had there seen Harri- 
 son, but under another name. He had been kind to her father 
 had made him many presents, and the beautiful little cross of red 
 coral, which, without knowing anything of its symbolical associa- 
 tions, she had continued to wear in her bosom, had been the gift
 
 THE YEMASSEE 305 
 
 of him who was now the prisoner to her people. She knew him 
 through his disguise her father would have known would have 
 -saved him, had he been living. She had heard his doom de- 
 nounced to take place on the return of the war-party ; she gazed 
 upon the manly form, the noble features, the free, fearless carriage 
 she thought of Occonestoga of the pale mother of the English- 
 man of her own bereavement and of a thousand other things 
 belonging naturally to the same topics. The more she thought, the 
 more her heart grew softened within her the more aroused her 
 brain the more restless and unrestrainable her spirit. 
 
 She turned away from the crowd as the prisoner was hurried 
 into the dungeon. She turned away in anguish of heart, and a 
 strange commotion of thought. She sought the shelter of the 
 neighbouring wood, and rambled unconsciously, as it were, among 
 the old forests. But she had no peace she was pursued by the 
 thought which assailed her from the first. The image of Occones- 
 toga haunted her footsteps, and she turned only to see his bloody 
 form and gashed head for ever at her elbow. He looked appeal- 
 ingly to her, and she then thought of the English mother over 
 the waters. He pointed in the direction of Pocota-ligo, and she 
 then saw the prisoner, Harrison. She saw him in the dungeon, 
 she saw him on the tumulus the flames were gathering around 
 him a hundred torturing arrows were stuck in his person, and 
 she beheld the descending hatchet, bringing him the coup de grace. 
 These images were full of terror, and their contemplation still more 
 phrenzied her intellect. She grew strong and fearless with the 
 desperation which they brought, and rushing through the forest, 
 she once more made her way into the heart of Pocota-ligo. 
 
 The scene was changed. The torches were either burnt out or 
 decaying, and scattered over the ground. The noise was over 
 the crowd dispersed and gone. Silence and sleep had resumed 
 their ancient empire. She trod, alone, along the great thorough- 
 fare of the town. A single dog ran at her heels, baying at in- 
 tervals ; but him she hushed with a word of unconscious soothing, 
 ignorant when she uttered it. There were burning feelings in 
 her bosom, at variance with reason at variance with the limited 
 duty which she owed to society at variance with her own safety
 
 306 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 But what r> hese ? 'I here is a holy instinct that helps us, some- 
 times, in '.he 'ace of our common standards. Humanity is earlier 
 in its origin and holier in its claims than society. She felt the 
 one, 9'\d forgot to obey the other. 
 
 $K; went forward, and the prison-house of the Englishman 
 un^cr the shelter of a venerable oak the growth of several silent 
 centuries rose dimly before her. Securely fastened with stout 
 thongs on the outside, the door was still farther guarded by a 
 couple of warriors lying upon the grass before it. One of them 
 seemed to sleep soundly, but the other was wakeful. He lay at 
 full length, however, his head upraised, and resting upon one of 
 his palms bis elbow lifting it from the ground. The other hand 
 grasped the hatchet, which he employed occasionally in chopping 
 the earth just before him. He was musing rather than meditative, 
 and the action of his hand and hatchet, capricious and fitful, indi- 
 cated a want of concentration in his thought. This was in her 
 favour. Still, there was no possibility of present approach unper- 
 ceived ; and to succeed in a determination only half-formed in her 
 bosom, and, in fact, undesigned in her head, the gentle but fearless 
 woman had recourse to some of those highly ingenious arts, so 
 well known to the savage, and which he borrows in most part from 
 the nature around him. Receding, therefore, to a little distance, 
 she carefully sheltered herself in a small clustering clump of bush 
 and brush, at a convenient distance for her purpose, and proceeded 
 more definitely to the adjustment of her design. 
 
 Meanwhile, the yet wakeful warrior looked round upon his com- 
 rade, who lay in a deep slumber between himself and the dungeon 
 entrance. Fatigue and previous watchfulness had done their woik 
 with the veteran. The watcher himself began to feel these in- 
 fluences stealing upon him, though not in the same degree, 
 perhaps, and with less rapidity. But, as he looked around, and 
 witnessed the general silence, his ear detecting with difficulty the 
 drowsy motion of the zephyr among the thick branches over 
 head as if that slept also his own drowsiness crept more and 
 more upon his senses. Nature is thronged with sympathies, and 
 the undiseased sense finds its kindred at all hours and in every 
 situation.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 307 
 
 Suddenly, as he mused, a faint chirp, that of a single cricket, 
 swelled upon his ear from the neighbouring grove. He answered 
 it, for great were his imitative faculties. He answered it, and from 
 an occasional note, it broke out into a regular succession of chirp- 
 ings, sweetly timed, and breaking the general silence of the night 
 with an effect utterly indescribable, except to watchers blessed 
 with a quick imagination. To these, still musing and won by the 
 interruption, he sent back a similar response ; and his attention 
 was suspended, as if for some return. But the chirping died away 
 in a click scarcely perceptible. It was succeeded, after a brief 
 interval, by the faint note of a mock-bird a sudden note, as if 
 the minstrel, starting from sleep, had sent it forth unconsciously, 
 or, in a dream, had thus given utterance to some sleepless emotion. 
 It was soft and gentle as the breathings of a flower. Again came 
 the chirping of the cricket a broken strain capricious in time, 
 and now seeming near at hand, now remote and flying. Then 
 rose the whizzing hum, as of a tribe of bees suddenly issuing 
 from the hollow of some neighbourizig tree ; and then, the clear, 
 distinct tap of the woodpecker once, twice, and thrice. Silence, 
 then, and the burden of the cricket was resumed, at the moment 
 when a lazy stir of the breeze in the branches above the half- 
 drowsy warrior seemed to solicit the torpor from which it occa- 
 sionally started. Gradually, the successive sounds, so natural to 
 the situation, and so grateful and congenial to the ear of the 
 hunter, hummed his senses into slumber. For a moment, his 
 eyes were half re-opened, and he looked round vacantly upon the 
 woods, and upon the dying flame of the scattered torches, and 
 then upon his fast-sleeping comrade. The prospect gave additional 
 stimulus to the dreamy nature of the influences growing about 
 and gathering upon him. Finally, the trees danced away from 
 before his vision the clouds came down close to his face ; and, 
 gently accommodating his arm to the support of his dizzy and 
 binking head, he gradually and unconsciously sank beside his 
 companion, and, in a few moments, erjoyed a slumber as oblivioua
 
 CHAPTER XXXV1L 
 
 '"Ti freedom that she brings him, but the pass 
 U leaguered he must 'scape through. Foemen watch, 
 Ready to strike the hopeless fugitive." 
 
 WITH the repose to slumber of the warrior the cricket and the 
 bee, the mock-bird and the woodpecker, all at once grew silent. 
 A few moments only had elapsed, when, cautious in approach, 
 they made their simultaneous appearance from the bush in the 
 person of Matiwan. It was her skill that had charmed the spirit 
 of the watcher into sleep, by the employment of associations so 
 admirably adapted to the spirit of the scene. With that ingenuity 
 which is an instinct with the Indians, she had imitated, one aftei 
 another, the various agents, whose notes, duly timed, had first 
 won, then soothed, and then relaxed and quieted the senses of 
 the prison-keeper. She had rightly judged in the employment of 
 her several arts. The gradual beatitude of mind and lassitude of 
 body, brought about with inevitable certainty, when once we have 
 lulled the guardian senses of the animal, must always precede 
 thjeir complete unconsciousness ; and the art of the Indian, in this 
 way, is often employed, in cases of mental excitation and disease, 
 with a like Abject. The knowledge of the power of soothing, 
 sweet sounds over' the wandering mind, possessed, as the Hebrew 
 -. trongly phrased it, of devils, was not confined to that people, noi 
 o the melodious ministerings of their David. The Indian claims 
 or it a still greater influence, when, with a single note, he bids 
 the serpent uncoil from his purpose, and wind unharmingly away 
 from the bosom of his victim. 
 
 She emerged from her place of concealment with a caution 
 which marked something more of settled purpose than she had 
 yet exhibited. She approached in the dim, flickering light, cast 
 from the decaying torches which lay scattered without order alonf>
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 309 
 
 the ground A few paces only divided her from the watchers, 
 and she continued to approach, when one of them turned with a 
 degree of restlessness which led her to apprehend that he had 
 awakened. She sank back like a shadow, as fleet and silently, 
 once more into the cover of the brush. But he still slept. She 
 again approached and the last flare of the torch burning most 
 brightly before, quivered, sent up a little gust of flame, and then 
 went out, leaving her only the star light for her further guidance. 
 This light was imperfect, as the place of imprisonment lay under 
 a thickly branching tree, and her progress was therefore more 
 difficult. But, with added difficulty, to the strong mood, comes 
 added determination. To this determination the mind of Matiwan 
 brought increased caution; and treading with the lightness of 
 some melancholy ghost, groping at midnight among old and 
 deserted chambers of the heart, the Indian woman stepped on- 
 ward to her purpose, over a spot as silent, if not so desolate. 
 Carefully placing her feet so as to avoid the limbs of the sleeping 
 guard who lay side by side and directly across the door-way a 
 design only executed with great difficulty, she at length reached 
 the door ; and drawing from her side a knife, she separated the 
 thick thongs of skin which had otherwise well secured it. In 
 another moment she was in the centre of the apartment and in 
 the presence of the captive. 
 
 He lay at length, though not asleep, upon the damp floor of the 
 dungeon. Full of melancholy thought, and almost prostrate with 
 despair, his mind and imagination continued to depict before his 
 eyes the thousand forms of horror to which savage cruelty was 
 probably, at that very moment, subjecting the form most dear to 
 liis affections, and the people at large, for whose lives he would 
 freely have given up his own. He saw the flames of their desola- 
 tion he heard the cries of their despair. Their blood gushed 
 along before his eyes, in streams that spoke to him appealingly, at 
 least for vengeance. How many veins, the dearest in his worship, 
 had been drained perchance to give volume to their currents. The 
 thought was horrible, the picture too trying and too terrible for 
 the contemplation of a spirit, which, fearless and firm, was yet 
 gentle and affectionate. He covered his eyes with his extended
 
 310 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 Dalms, as i/ to shut from his physical what was perceptible only to 
 bis mental vision. 
 
 A gust aroused him. The person of Matiwan was before him, a 
 dim outline, undistinguishablc in feature by his darkened and 
 disordered sight. Her voice, like a murmuring water lapsing 
 away among the rushes, fell soothingly upon his senses. Herself 
 half dreaming for her proceeding had been a matter rather of 
 impulse than premeditation the single word, so gently yet sc 
 clearly articulated, with which she broke in upon the melancholy 
 musings of the captive, and first announced her presence, proved 
 sufficiently the characteristic direction of her own maternal spirit. 
 
 " Occonestoga ?" 
 
 "Who speaks!" was the reply of Harrison, starting to his feet, 
 and assuming an attitude of defiance and readiness, not less than 
 doubt ; for he had now no thought but that of fight, in connexion 
 with the Yemassees, " Who speaks ?" 
 
 " Ah !" and in the exclamation we see the restored conscious- 
 ness which taught her that not Occonestoga, but the son of 
 another mother, stood before her. 
 
 " Ah ! the Coosah-moray-te shall go," she said, in broken 
 English. 
 
 " Who what is this ?" responded the captive, as he felt rather 
 than understood the kindness of the tones that met his ear ; aad 
 he now more closely approached the speaker. 
 
 " Hush," she placed her hand upon his wrist, and looked to 
 the door with an air of anxiety then whisperingly, urged him to 
 caution. 
 
 " Big warriors tomahawks they may lie in the grass for the 
 English." 
 
 " And who art thou woman ? Is it freedom life ? Cut the 
 cords, quick, quick let me feel rny liberty." And as she busied 
 herself in cutting the sinews that tightly secured his wrists, he 
 scatcely forbore his show of impatience. 
 
 " I am free I am free. I thank thee, God great, good fa- 
 ther, this is thy Providence! I thank I praise thee! And 
 thou who art thou, my preserver but wherefore ask ? Thoa
 
 THE YEMASSEE. . 311 
 
 " It is Matiwan !" she said humbly. 
 
 " The wife of Sanutee how shall I thank how reward thee 
 Matiwan!" 
 
 " Matiwan is the woman of the great chief, Sanutee she makes i 
 free the English, that has a look and a tongue like the boy Oc- I 
 .conestoga." 
 
 " And where is he, Matiwan where is the young warrior ? I 
 came to see after him, and it is this which has brought me into 
 my present difficulty." 
 
 " Take the knife, English take the knife. Look ! the blood is 
 on the hand of Matiwan. It is the blood of the boy." 
 
 " Woman, thou hast not slain him thou hast not slain the child 
 of thy bosom !" 
 
 " Matiwan saved the boy," she said proudly. 
 
 " Then he lives." 
 
 " In the blessed valley with the Manneyto. He will build a 
 great lodge for Matiwan.. 
 
 " Give me the knife." 
 
 He took it hurriedly from her grasp, supposing her delirious, 
 and failing utterly to comprehend the seeming contradiction in her 
 language. She handed it to him with a shiver as she gave it up ; 
 then, telling him to follow, and at the same time pressing her hand 
 upon his arm by way of caution, she led the way to the entrance, 
 which she had carefully closed after her on first entering. With 
 as much, if not more caution than before, slowly unclosing it, she 
 showed him, in the dim light of the stars, the extended forms of 
 the two keepers. They still slept, but not soundly ; and in the 
 momentary glance which she required the captive to take, with 
 all Indian deliberateness, she seemed desirous of familiarizing his 
 glance with the condition of the scene, and with all those difficul- 
 ties in the aspect of surrounding objects with which he was pro- 
 bably destined to contend. With the strong excitement of renewed 
 hope, coupled with his consciousness of freedom, Harrison would 
 have leaped forward ; but she restrained him, and just at that mo- 
 ment, a sudden, restless movement of one of the sleepers warned 
 them to be heedful. Quick as thought, in that motion, Matiwan 
 sank back into the shadow of the dungeon, closing the door with
 
 312 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 the same impulse. Pausing, for a few moments, untL ,he renewed 
 and deep breathings from without reassured her, she then again 
 led the way ; but, as she half opened the door, turning quietly, 
 she said in a whisper to the impatient Harrison: 
 
 " The chief of the English the pale mother loves him over the 
 water ?" 
 
 "She does, Matiwan she loves him very much." 
 
 " And the chief he keeps her here " pointing to her heart. 
 
 " Always deeply. I love her too, very much, my mother !" 
 
 " It is good. The chief will go on the waters he will go to 
 the mother that loves him. She will sing like a green bird for 
 him, when the young corn comes out of the ground. So Matiwan 
 sings for Occonestoga. Go, English but look ! for the arrow 
 of the Yemassee runs along the path." 
 
 He pressed her hand warmly, but his lips refused all other ac- 
 knowledgment. A deep sigh attested her own share of feeling in 
 those references wh ; ch she had made to tbe son in connexion with 
 the mother. Then, once more unclosing the entrance, she stepped 
 fearlessly and successfully over the two sleeping sentinels. 
 
 He followed her, but with less good fortune. Whether it was 
 that he saw indistinctly in that unaccustomed light, and brushed 
 one of the men with his foot, or whether the latter had been rest- 
 less before^ and only in an imperfect slumber just then broken, 
 may not now be said ; but at that inauspicious moment he 
 awakened. With waking comes instant consciousness to the In- 
 dian, who differs in this particular widely from the negro. He 
 knew his prisoner at a glance, and grappled him, as he lay, by the 
 leg. Harrison, with an instinct quite as ready, dashed his unob- 
 structed heel into the face of the warrior, and though released, 
 would have followed up his blow by a stroke from his uplifted and 
 bared knife ; but his arm was held back by Matiwan Her instinct 
 was gentler and wiser. In broken English, she bade him fly for 
 liis life. His own sense taught him in an instant the propriety of 
 this course, and before the aroused Indian could recover from the 
 blow of his heel, and while he strove to waken his comrade, the 
 Englishman bounded down, with a desperate speed, along the great 
 thoroughfare leading to the river. The warriors were soon at hi
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 313 
 
 heels, but the generous mood of Matiwan did not rest with what 
 she had already done. She threw herself in their way, and thus 
 gained him some little additional time. But they soon put her 
 aside, and their quick tread in the pathway taken by the fugitive 
 warned him to the exercise of all his efforts. At the same time he 
 coolly calculated his course and its chances. As he thought thus 
 he clutched the knife given him by Matiwan, with an emotion of 
 confidence which the warrior must always feel, having his limbs, 
 and grasping a weapon with which his hand has been familiar. 
 
 "At least," thought he, fiercely, "they must battle for the life 
 they take. They gain no easy prey." 
 
 Thus did he console himself in his flight with his pursuers hard 
 behind him. In his confidence he gained new strength ; and thus 
 the well-exercised mind gives strength to the body which it informs. 
 Harrison was swift of foot, also, few of the whites were better 
 practised or more admirably formed for the events and necessities 
 of forest life. But the Indian has a constant exercise which makes 
 him a prodigy in the use of his legs. In a journey of day after 
 day, he can easily outwind any horse. Harrison knew this, but 
 then he thought of his knife. They gained upon him, and, as he 
 clutched the weapon firmly in his grasp, his teeth grew tightly fixed, 
 and he began to feel the rapturous delirium which makes the desire 
 for the strife. Still, the river was not far off, and though galK-d 
 at the necessity of flight, he yet felt what was due to his people, 
 at that very moment, most probably, under the stroke of their 
 savage butchery. He had no time for individual conflict, in winch 
 nothing might be done for them. The fresh breeze now swelled 
 up from the river, and re-encouraged him. 
 
 " Could I gain that," he muttered to himself, "could I gain 
 iiat, I were safe. Of God's surety, I may." 
 
 A look over his shoulder, and a new start. They were behind 
 him, but not so close as he had thought. Coolly enough he 
 hounded on, thinking aloud : 
 
 " They cannot touch, but they may shoot. Well if they do, 
 
 they must stop, and a few seconds more will give me a cover in 
 
 the waters. Let them shoot let them shoot. The arrow is better 
 
 than the stake." Thus muttering to himself, but in tones almost 
 
 14
 
 314 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 audible to his enemies, he kept his way with a heart something 
 lighter from his momentary effort at philosophy. He did not per- 
 ceive that his pursuers had with them no weapon but the toma- 
 hawk, or his consolations might have been more satisfactory. 
 
 In another moment he was upon the banks of the river ; and 
 / there, propitiously enough, a few paces from the shore, lay a canoe 
 
 tied to a pole that stood upright in the stream. He blessed his 
 stars as he beheld it, and pausing not to doubt whether a paddle 
 lay in its bottom or not, he plunged incontinently forward, wading- 
 almost to his middle before he reached it. He was soon snug 
 enough in its bottom, and had succeeded in cutting the thong with 
 his knife when the Indians appeared upon the bank. Dreading 
 their arrows, for the broad glare of the now rising moon gave 
 them sufficient light for their use had they been provided with 
 them, he stretched himself at length along the bottom of the boat, 
 and left it to the current, which set strongly downward. But a 
 sudden plunge into the water of one and then the other of his pur- 
 suers, left him without the hope of getting off so easily. The 
 danger came in a new shape, and he properly rose to meet it. 
 Placing himself in a position which would enable him to turn 
 readily upon any point which they might assail, he prepared for 
 the encounter. One of the warriors was close upon him swim- 
 ming lustily, and carrying his tomahawk grasped by the handle in 
 his teeth.,. The other came at a little distance, and promised soon 
 to be up with him. The first pursuer at length struck the canoe, 
 raised himself sufficiently on the water for that purpose, and his 
 left hand grasped one of the sides, while the right prepared to take 
 the hatchet from his jaws. But with the seizure of the boat by 
 his foe came the stroke of Harrison. His knife drove half through 
 the hand of the Indian, who released his grasp with a howl that 
 made his companion hesitate. Just at that instant a third plunge 
 into the water, as of some prodigious body, called for the attention 
 of all parties anew. The pursuers now became the fugitives, as 
 their quick senses perceived a new and dangerous enemy in the 
 black mass surging towards them, with a power and rapidity which 
 taught them the necessity of instant flight, and with no half effort. 
 / They well knew the fierce appetite and the tremendous jaws of the
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 315 
 
 native alligator, the American crocodile, one of the largest of 
 which now came looming towards them. Self-preservation was 
 the word. The captive was forgotten altogether in their own dan- 
 ger ; and swimming with all their strength, and with all their skill, 
 in a zigzag manner, so as to compel their unwieldy pursuer 1<> 
 make frequent and sudden turns in the chase, occasionally pausing 
 to .splash the water with as much noise as possible a practice 
 known to discourage his approach when not over-hungry they 
 contrived to baffle his pursuit, and half exhausted, the two warriors 
 reached and clambered up the banks, just as their ferocious pur- 
 suer, close upon their heels, had opened his tremendous jaws, with 
 an awful compass, ready to engulf them. They were safe though 
 actually pursued even up the banks by the voracious and possibly 
 half-starved monster. Their late captive, the fugitive, was now 
 sate also. Paddling as well as he could with a broken flap-oar 
 lying in the bottom of the boat, he shaped his course to strike at, 
 a point as far down the river as possible, without nearing the 
 pirate craft of Chorley. In an hour, which seemed to him an age, 
 lie reached the opposite shore, a few miles from the Block House, 
 not very much fatigued, and in perfect safety.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 ' 'Tis an unruly mood, that will not hear, 
 In reason's spite, the honest word of truth 
 Such mood will have its punishment, and Mun- 
 is never slow t bring it. It will come." 
 
 LET us somewhat retrace our steps, and go back to the time, 
 when, made a prisoner in the camp of the Yemassees, Harrison 
 was borne away to Pocota-ligo, a destined victim for the sacrifice 
 to their god of victory. Having left him, as they thought, seouiv, 
 the war-party, consisting, as already described, of detachments From 
 a number of independent, though neighbouring nations, proceeded 
 to scatter themselves over the country. In small bodies, they ran 
 from dwelling to dwelling with the utmost rapidity in this man- 
 ner, by simultaneous attacks, everywhere preventing anything lita 
 union or organization among the borderers. One or two larger 
 parties were designed for higher enterprises, and without permit- 
 ting themselves to be drawn aside to these smaller matters, pursued 
 their object with Indian inflexibility. These had for their object 
 the surprise of the towns and villages ; and so great had been 
 their preparations, so well conducted their whole plan of warfare, 
 that six thousand warriors had been thus got together, and, burn- 
 ing and slaying, they had made their way, in the progress of this 
 insurrection, to the very gates of Charleston the chief, indeed the 
 only town, of any size or strength, in the colony. But this belongs 
 not to the narrative immediately before us. 
 
 Two parties of some force took the direction given to our story, 
 and making their way along the river Pocota-ligo, diverging for 
 a few miles on the English side, had, in this manner, assailed 
 every dwelling and settlement in their way to the Block House. 
 One of these parties was commanded by Chorley, who, in addition 
 to his seamen, was intrusted with the charge of twenty Indians. 
 Equally savage with the party which he commanded, the paih uf this
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 317 
 
 ruffian was traced in blood. He offered no obstacle to the san 
 guinary indulgence, on the part of the Red men, of their habitual 
 fury in war ; but rather stimulated their ferocity by the indulgence 
 of his own. Unaccustomed, however, to a march through the 
 forests, the progress of the seamen was not so rapid as that of the 
 ether party despatched on the same route; and many of the 
 dwellings, therefore, had been surprised and sacked some time 
 before the sailor commander could make his appearance. The 
 Indian leader who went before him was Ishiagaska, one of the 
 nioet renowned warriors of the nation. He, indeed, was one of 
 those who, making a journey to St. Augustine, had first been 
 seduced by the persuasions of the Spanish governor of that station 
 a station denounced by the early Carolinians, from the perpetual 
 forays upon their borders, by land and sea, issuing from that 
 quarter as another Sallee. He had sworn fidelity to the King 
 of Spain while there, and from that point had been persuaded to 
 visit the neighbouring tribes of the Creek, Apalachian, Euchee, 
 and Cherokee Indians, with the war-belt, and a proposition of a 
 common league against the English settlements a proposition 
 greedily accepted, when coming with innumerable presents of 
 hatchets, knives, nails, and gaudy dresses, furnished by the 
 Spaniards, who well knew how to tempt and work upon the appe- 
 tites and imagination of the savages. Laden with similar presents, 
 the chief had returned home, and with successful industry had 
 succeeded, as we have seen, aided by Sanutee, in bringing many 
 of hi people to a similar way of thinking with himself. The 
 frequent aggressions of the whites, the cheats practised by some 
 of their traders, and othei circumstances, had strongly co-operated 
 to the desired end ; and with his desire satisfied, Ishiagaska now 
 headed one of the parties destined to carry the war to Port Royal 
 Island, sweeping the track of the Pocota-ligo settlements in his 
 progress, and at length uniting with the main party of Sanutee 
 before Charleston. 
 
 He was not slow in the performance of his mission ; but for- 
 tunately for the English, warned by the counsels of Harrison, the 
 greater number in this precinct had taken timely shelter in the 
 Block House, ami left l>ut their emp'v dwellings to the fury of
 
 318 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 their invaders. Still, there were many not so fortunate ; and, 
 plying their way from house to house in their progress, with ah 
 the stealthy silence of the cat, the Indians drove their tomahawks 
 into many of the defenceless cotters who came imprudently to the 
 door in recognition of the conciliatory demand which they made 
 for admission. Once in possession, their aim was indiscriminate 
 slaughter, and one bed of death not unfrequently comprised the 
 forms of an entire family husband, wife, and children. Sometimes 
 they fired the dwelling into which caution denied them entrance, 
 and as the inmates' fled from the flames, stood ' in watch and shot 
 them down with their arrows. In this way, sparing none, whether 
 young or old, male or female, the band led on by Ishiagaska ap- 
 peared at length before the dwelling of the pastor, Matthews. Rely- 
 ing upon his reputation with the Indians, and indeed unapprehen- 
 sive of any commotion, for he knew nothing of their arts of 
 deception, we have seen him steadily sceptical, and almost rudely 
 indifferent to the advice of Harrison. Regarding the cavalier in 
 a light somewhat equivocal, it is more than probable that the 
 source of the counsel was indeed the chief obstacle with him in 
 the way of its adoption. Be that as it may, he stubbornly held out 
 in his determination to abide where he was, though somewhat stag- 
 gered in his confidence, when in their flight from their own more 
 exposed situation to the shelter of the Block House, under liar-: 
 rison's counsel, the old dame Grayson, with her elder son, stopped 
 at his dwelling. He assisted the ancient lady to alight from her 
 horse, and helped her into the house for refreshments, wlflle her 
 son busied himself with the animal. 
 
 " Why, what's the matter, dame ? What brings you forth at 
 this late season ? To my mind, at your time of life, the bed would 
 be the best place, certainly," was the address of the pastor as hu 
 handed her some refreshment. 
 
 "Oh, sure, parson, and it's a hard thing for such as me to be 
 riding about the country on horseback at any time, much less at 
 night though to be sure Watty kept close to the bridle of the 
 Creature, which you see is a fine one, and goes like a cradle." 
 
 "Well, but what brings you out? you have not told me that, 
 yet. Something of great moment, doubtless."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 319 
 
 "\Vnat, you haven't heard? Hasn't the captain told you? 
 Well, (hat's strange ! I thought you'd be one of the first to hear 
 it all, seeing that all say he thinks of nobody half so much as of 
 your young lady there. Ah ! my dear well, you needn't blush 
 now, nor look down, for he's a main fine gentleman, and you 
 couldn't find a better in a long day's journey." 
 
 The pastor looked grave, while the old dame, whose tongue 
 always received a new impulse when she met her neighbours, ran 
 en in the most annoying manner. She stopped at last, and though 
 very readily conjecturing now the occasion of her flight, the pastor 
 did not conceive it improper to renew his question. 
 
 " Well, as I said, it's all owing to the captain's advice Captain 
 Harrison, you know: a sweet gentleman that, as ever lived. He 
 it was he came to me this morning, and he went to all the neigh- 
 bours, and looked so serious you know he don't often look serious 
 but he looked so serious as he told us all about the savages the 
 Vcinassees, and the Coosaws how they were thinking to rise and 
 tomahawk us all in our beds ; and then he offered to lend me his 
 horse, seeing I had no creature, and it was so good of him for 
 he knew how feeble 1 was, and his animal is so gentle and easy." 
 
 " And so, with this wild story, he has made you travel over the 
 country by night, when you should be in your bed. It is too bad 
 this young man takes quite too many liberties." 
 
 Why, how now, parson wiat's to do betwixt you and the 
 captain ?" asked the old lady in astonishment. 
 
 " Well nothing of any moment," was the grave reply. " I only 
 think that he is amusing himself at our expense, with a levity most 
 improper, by alarming the country." 
 
 " My ! and you think the Indians don't mean to attack and 
 tomahawk us in our beds ?" 
 
 " That is my opinion, dame I see no reason why they should. 
 It is true, they have had Some difficulties with the traders of late, but 
 they have been civil to us. One or more have been here every day 
 during the last week, and they seemed then as peaceably disposed 
 as ever. They have listened with much patience to my poor ex- 
 hortations, and, I flatter myself, with profit to their souls and under- 
 standings. I have no apprehension myself; though, had it bees
 
 320 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 left to Bess and her mother, like you, we should have been all 
 riding through the woods to the Block House, with the pleasure 
 of riding back in the morning." 
 
 " Bless me ! how you talk well, I never thought to hear so 
 badly of the captain. He did seem so good a gentleman, and was 
 so sweetly spoken." 
 
 " Don't mistake me, dame, I have said nothing unfavourable 
 to the character of the gentleman nothing bad of him. I know 
 little about him, and this is one chief objection which I entertain 
 to a greater intimacy. Another objection is that wild and indeco- 
 rous levity, of which he never seems to divest himself, and which 
 I think has given you to-night a fatiguing and unnecessary 
 ramble." 
 
 " Well, if you think so, I don't care to go farther, for J don't 
 expect to be at all comfortable in the Block House. So, if you can 
 make me up a truck, here " 
 
 " Surely, dame, Bess, my dear " 
 
 But the proposed arrangement was interrupted by Walter Gray- 
 son, who just then appeared, and who stoutly protested against 
 his mother's stopping short of the original place of destination. 
 The elder Grayson was a great advocate for Captain Harrison, who 
 embodied all his ideal of what was worthy and magnificent, and in 
 whom his faith was implicit and he did not scruple to dilate with 
 praiseworthy eloquence upon the* scandal of such a proceeding as 
 that proposed. 
 
 " You must not think of it, mother. How wiH it look 1 Be- 
 sides, I'm sure the captain knows what's right, and wouldn't say 
 what was not certain. It's only a mile and a bit and when you 
 can make sure, you must not stop short." 
 
 " But, Watty, boy the parson says it's only the captain's fun, 
 and we'll only have to take a longer ride in the morning if we go 
 on further to-night." 
 
 The son looked scowlingly upon the pastor, as he responded : 
 
 " Well, perhaps the parson knows better than any body else ; 
 but give me the opinion of those whose business it is to know. 
 Now, I believe in the captain whenever fighting's going on, and I 
 believe in the parson whenever preaching's going on so, as it's
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 321 
 
 fighting and not preaching now, I don't 'care who knows it, but I 
 believe in the captain, and I won't believe in the parson. If it was 
 preaching and not fighting, the parson should be my man." 
 
 " Now, Watty, don't be disrespectful. I'm sure the parson must 
 be right, and so I think we had all better stay here when there's no 
 use in going." 
 
 " Well now, mother, I'm sure the parson's wrong, and if you 
 stay, it will only be to be tomahawked and scalped." 
 
 '' Why alarm your mother with such language, young man I 
 You are deceived the Yemassees were never more peaceable than 
 they are at present." Matthews thus broke in, but commanded 
 little consideration from the son, and almost provoked a harsh 
 retort : 
 
 " I say, Parson Matthews one man knows one thing, and 
 another man another but, curse me, if I believe in the man that 
 pretends to know everything. Now fighting's the business, the 
 very trade as I may say of Captain Harrison, of the Foresters, and 
 I can tell you, if it will do you any good to hear, that he knows bet- 
 ter how to handle these red-skins than any man in Granville county, 
 let the other man come from whatever quarter he may. Now, 
 preaching's your trade, though you can't do much at it, I think ; 
 yet, as it is your trade, nobody has a right to meddle it's your 
 business, not mine. But, I say, parson I don't think it looks alto- 
 gether respectful to try and undo, behind his back, the trade of 
 another; and I think it little better than backbiting for any one 
 to speak disreputably of the captain, just when he's gone into the 
 very heart of the nation, to see what we are to expect, and all for 
 our benefit." 
 
 Grayson was mightily indignant, and spoke his mind freelv. 
 The parson frowned and winced at the rather novel and nowie* 
 sparing commentary, but could say nothing precisely to the prdnt 
 beyond what he had said already. Preaching, and not fighting, 
 was certainly his profession ; and, to say the least of it, the previ- 
 ous labours of Harrison among the Indians, his success, and know- 
 ledge of their habits and character, justified the degree of con- 
 fidence in his judgment, upon which Gravson so loudly insisted, 
 and which old Matthews so sturdily witHuM A pew speaker 
 14*
 
 322 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 now came forward, however, in the person of Bess Matthews, wlio, 
 without the slightest shrinking, advancing from the side of her 
 mother, thus addressed the last speaker : 
 
 " Where, Master Grayson, did you say Captain Harrison had 
 gone ?" 
 
 " Ah, Miss Bessy, I'm glad to see you. But you may well ask. 
 for it's wonderful to me how anybody can undervalue a noble gen- 
 tleman just at the very time he's doing the best, and risking his 
 own lite for us all. Who knows but just at this moment the Ye- 
 massees are scalping him in Pocota-ligo, for it's there he is gon tc 
 see. what we may expect." 
 
 " " You do not speak certainly, Master Grayson it is only vour 
 conjecture 1" was her inquiry, while the lip of the maiden trem- 
 bled, and the colour fled hurriedly from her cheek. 
 
 " Ay, but I do, Miss Bessy, for I put him across the river my- 
 self, and it was then he lent me the horse for mother. Yes, there 
 he is, and nobody knows in what difficulty for my part, I'm 
 vexed to the soul to hear people running down the man that's doing 
 for them what they can't do for themselves, and all only for the 
 good-will of the thing, and not for any pay." 
 " No"body runs down your friend, Mr. Graysou." 
 
 "Just the same thing but you may talk as you think proper', 
 and if you don't choose to go, you may stay. I don't want to 
 have any of mine scalped, and so, mother, let us be off." 
 
 The old woman half hesitated, and seemed rather inclined once 
 more to change her decision and go with her son, but happening 
 to detect a smile upon the lips of the pastor, she grew more obsti- 
 nate than ever, and peremptorily declared her determination to stay 
 where she was. Grayson seemed perfectly bewildered, and knew 
 not what to say. What he did say seemed only to have the effect 
 of making her more dogged in her opposition than ever, and he 
 was beginning to despair of success, when an influential auxiliary 
 appeared in the person of his younger brother. To him the elder 
 instantly appealed, and a close observer might have detected 
 another *change in the countenance of the old dame at the approach 
 of her younger son. The features grew more feminine, and there 
 was an expression of conscious dependance in the lines of her
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 323 
 
 cheek and the half parted lips, which necessarily grew out of the 
 greater love which she bore to the one over the other child. 
 
 " And what do you say, Hughey, my son ?" inquired the old 
 dame, affectionately. 
 
 " What have I said, mother ?" was the brief response. 
 
 " And we must go to the Block House, Hughey ?" 
 
 " Did we not set out to go there ?" 
 
 " But the parson thinks there is no danger, Hughey." 
 
 " That is, doubtless, what he thinks. There are others having 
 quite as much experience, who think there is danger, and as you 
 have come so far, it will not be much additional trouble to go far- 
 ther and to a place of safety. Remember my fatner he thought 
 there was no danger, and he was scalped for it." 
 
 The young man spoke gravely and without hesitation, but with 
 a manner the most respectful. His words were conclusive with his 
 mother, whose jewel he unquestionably was, and his last reference 
 was unnecessary. Drawing the strings of her hat, with a half sup- 
 pressed sigh, she prepared to leave a circle somewhat larger and 
 consequently somewhat more cheerful than that to which she had 
 been accustomed. In the meantime, a little by-play had been going 
 on between the elder brother and Bess Matthews, whose apprehen- 
 sions, but poorly concealed, had been brought into acute activity 
 on hearing of the precarious adventure which her lover had under- 
 taken. This dialogue, however, was soon broken by the departure 
 of Dame Grayson, attended by her elder son, the younger remain- 
 ing behind, much against the desire, of the anxious mother, though 
 promising soon to follow. Their departure was succeeded by a 
 few moments of profound and somewhat painful silence, for which 
 each of the parties had a particular reason. The pastor, though 
 obstinately resolved not to take the counsel given by Harrison, was 
 yet not entirely satisfied with his determination ; and the proba- 
 bility is, that a single circumstance occurring at that time, so as to 
 furnish a corresponding authority from another, might have brought 
 about a change in his decision. His wife was, comparatively 
 speaking, a taciturn body, particularly when the widow Graysou 
 was present. She was, just now, a little bewildered also, between 
 the extremes of counsel, Harrison's on the one hand and the JAtr
 
 324 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 son's on the other. She accordingly looked her bewilderment 
 only, and said nothing, while Bess Matthews, tilled only with ap- 
 prehensions of her lover, in supposed danger from the Yemassees, 
 was as little capable of thought or speech. She could contribute 
 nothing to the discussion. 
 
 Young Grayson, too, had his peculiar cause of disquiet, and, 
 with a warm passion, active yet denied, in his heart and a fierce 
 mood for ambition, kept within those limits which prescription and 
 social artifice so frequently wind, as with the coil of the constrictor, 
 around the lofty mind and the upsoaring spirit, keeping it down 
 to earth, and chaining it in a bondage as degrading as it is un- 
 natural he felt in no humour to break through the restraints 
 which fettered the goodly company about him. Still, the effort 
 seemed properly demanded of him, and, referring to the common 
 movement, he commenced the conversation by regretting, with a 
 commonplace phraseology, the prospect held forth, so injurious to 
 the settlement, by any approaching tumult among the Indians. 
 The old pastor fortified his decision not to remove, by repeating his 
 old confidence in their quiet : 
 
 " The Indians," said he, " have been and are quiet enough. We 
 have no reason to anticipate assault now. It is true, they have 
 the feelings of men, and ar, they have been injured by some of our 
 traders, and perhaps by some of our borderers, they may have cause 
 of complaint, and a few of them may even be desirous of revenge. 
 This is but natural. But, if this were the general feeling, we 
 should have seen its proofs before now. They would seek it in 
 individual enterprises, and would strike and slay those who 
 wronged them. Generally speaking, they have nothing to com- 
 plain of; for, since that excellent man, Charles Craven, has been 
 governor, he has been their friend, even in spite of the Assembly, 
 who, to say truth, have been nowise sparing of injustice wherever 
 the savage has been concerned. Again, I say, I see not why we 
 should apprehend danger from the Yemassees at this moment." 
 
 As if himself satisfied with the force of what he had said, the 
 pastor threw himself back in his chair, and closed his eyes and 
 crossed his hands in complacent style, his look wearing an ap- 
 pearance of roost satisfactory conclusion solemnly assured, and
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 325 
 
 authoritatively content. Our parson had, we fear, quite as much 
 pride in his head, as devotion in his heart. Grayson replied 
 briefly : 
 
 '' Yet there are some evidences which should not be disregarded. 
 Sanutee, notoriously friendly as he has been to us, no longer visits 
 us he keeps carefully away, and when seen, his manner is re- 
 strained, and his language anything but cordial. Ishiagaska, too, 
 has been to St. Augustine, brought home large presents for him- 
 self and other of the chiefs, and has paid a visit to the Creeks, the 
 Apalachian, and other tribes besides bringing home with him 
 Chigilli, the celebrated Creek war-chief, who has been among the 
 Yemassees ever since. Now, to say the least of it, there is much 
 that calls for attention in the simple intercourse of foes so invete- 
 rate hitherto as the Spaniards and Yemassees. Greater foes have 
 not often been known, arid this new friendship is therefore the 
 more remarkable ; conclusive, indeed, when we consider the cold- 
 ness of the Yemassees towards us just as they have contracted thif- 
 new acquaintance ; the fury with which they revolutionized the 
 nation, upon the late treaty for their lands, and the great difficult) 
 which Sanutee had in. restrain ing them from putting our commis- 
 sioners to death." 
 
 u Ah, that was a bad business, but the fault was on our side. 
 
 ( >ur Assembly would inveigle with the young chiefs, and bribe them 
 
 against the will of the old, though Governor Craven told them 
 
 what they might expect, and warned them against the measure. 
 
 have seen his fine letter to the Assembly on that very point." 
 
 " We differ, Mr. Matthews, about the propriety of the measure, 
 for it is utterly impossible that the whites and Indians should evei 
 live together and agree. The nature of things is against it, and 
 the very difference between the two, that of colour, perceptible to 
 our most ready sentinel, the sight, must always constitute them 
 an inferior caste in our minds. Apart from this, an obvious supe- 
 riority in arts and education must soon force upon them the con- 
 sciousness of their inferiority. When this relationship is considered, 
 in connexion with the uncertainty of their resources and meant: 
 of life, it will be seen that, after a while, they must not only be 
 inferior, but they must become dependant. When this happens, arid
 
 326 THE TEMASSEE. 
 
 it will happen with the diminution of their hunting lands, circum 
 scribed, daily, more and more, as they are by our approaches, they 
 must become degraded, and sink into slavery and destitution. A 
 few of them have become so now ; they are degraded by brutal 
 habits, and the old chiefs have opened their eyes to the danger 
 among their young men, from the seductive poisons introduced 
 among them by our traders. They begin too, to become strait- 
 ened in their hunting grounds. They lose by our contact in every 
 way ; and to my mind, the best thing we can do for them is to 
 send them as far as possible from communion with our people." 
 
 " What ! and deny them all the benefits of our blessed religion ?" 
 
 " By no means, sir. The old apostles would have gone along 
 with, or after them. Unless the vocation of the preacher be very 
 much changed in times present from times past, they will not, 
 therefore, be denied any of the benefits jpf religious education." 
 
 The answer somewhat changed the direction of our pastor's dis- 
 course, who, though a very well meaning, was yet a very sleek 
 and highly providential person ; and, while his wits furnished no 
 ready answer to this suggestion, he was yet not prepared, himself, 
 fur an utter remove from all contact with civilization, and the good 
 things known to the economy of a Christian kitchen. As he said 
 nothing in reply, Grayson proceeded thus : 
 
 " There is yet another circumstance upon which I have made no 
 em ark, yet which seems important at this moment of doubt, and 
 possibly of danger. This guarda costa, lying in the river for so 
 many days, without any intercourse with our people, and seem- 
 ingly with no object, is at least singular. She is evidently Spanish ; 
 and the report is, that on her way, she was seen to put into every 
 inlet along the coast every bay and creek along the rivers and 
 here we find her, not coming to the shore, but moored in the 
 stream, ready to cut cable and run at a moment. What can be 
 her object ?" 
 
 "' You have been at some pains, Master Hugh Grayson, I see, to 
 get evidence ; but so far as this vessel or guarda co&ta is concerned, 
 1 think I may venture to say she is harmless. She is not & 
 Spanish, but an English vessel. As to her putting into this creek 
 rr that, I can say nothing she may have clone so, and it is very
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 327 
 
 , for she comes especially to get furs and skins from the 
 Indians. I know her captain at least I knew him when a boy 
 a wild youth from my owii county who took to the sea for the 
 mere love of roving. He was wild, and perhaps a little vicious, 
 when young, and may be so now ; but I have his own word that 
 his object is trade with the Indians for furs and skins, as I have 
 told you." 
 
 " And why not with the whites for furs and skins ? No, sir ! 
 He needs no furs, and of this I have evidence enough. I had a 
 fine parcel, which I preferred rather to sell on the spot than send 
 to Charleston, but he refused to buy from me on the most idle pre- 
 tence. This, more than any thing else, makes me doubt ; and, in 
 his refusal, I feel assured there is more than we know of. Like 
 yourself, I have been slow to give ear to these apprehensions, yet 
 they have forced themselves upon me ; and precaution is surely 
 better, even though at some trouble, when safety is the object. 
 My brother, from whom I have several facts of this kind withrn 
 the last hour, is himself acquainted with much in the conduct of 
 the Indians, calculated to create suspicion, and from Captain Har- 
 rison he gets the rest." 
 
 " Ay, Harrison again no evidence is good without him. He 
 is everywhere, and with him a good jest is authority enough at 
 any time." 
 
 " I love him not, sir, any more than yourself," said Grayson, 
 gloomily ; " but there is reason in what he tells us now." 
 
 " Father !" said Bess, coming forward, and putting her hand 
 tenderly on the old man's shoulder " hear to Master Grayson 
 he speaks for the best. Let us go to the Block, only for the night, 
 or at most two or three nights for Gabriel said the danger would 
 be soon over." 
 
 " Go to, girl, and be not foolish. Remember, too, to speak of 
 gentlemen by their names in full, with a master before them, or 
 such title as the law or usage gives them. Go !" 
 
 The manner in which Harrison had been referred to by the 
 daughter, offended Grayson not less than it did her father, and, 
 though now well satisfied of the position in which the parties stood, 
 he could not prevent the muscles of his brow contracting sternly,
 
 328 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 and his eyes bending down sullenly upon her. The old lady now 
 put in : 
 
 "Really, John, you are too obstinate. Here are all against you, 
 and there is so little trouble, and there may be so much risk. You 
 may repent when it is too late." 
 
 " Ypu will have something then to scold about, dame, and 
 therefore should not complain. But all this is exceedingly child- 
 ish, and you will do me the favour, Master Grayson, to discourse 
 of other things, since, as I see not any necessity to fly from those 
 who have been friends always, I shall, for this good night at least, 
 remain just where I am. For you, wife, and you, Bess, if you 
 will leave me, you are both at liberty to go." 
 
 " Leave you, father," exclaimed Bess, sinking on one knee by 
 the old man's side " Oh ! do not speak unkindly. I will stay, 
 and if there be danger, will freely share it with you, in what 
 ever form it may chance to come." 
 
 " You are a good girl, Bess a little timid, perhaps, but time 
 will cure you of that," and patting her on the head, the old man 
 rose, and took his way from the house into his cottage enclosure. 
 Some household duties at the same moment demanding the con- 
 niderat'^n of the old lady in another room, she lef the young 
 people UOD' 'ogether.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 1 A cruel tale for an unwilling ear, 
 And maddening to the spirit. But go on 
 Speak daggers to my soul, which, though it feels, 
 Thou cau'st not warp to wrong by injuries." 
 
 THE departure of the pastor and his wife w,as productive of 
 some little awkwardness in those who remained. For a few mo- 
 ments, a deathlike stillness succeeded. Well aware that her affec- 
 tfons for Harrison were known to her present companion, a feeling 
 not altogether unpleasant, of maiden bashfulness, led the eyes of 
 Bess to the floor, and silenced her speech. A harsher mood, 
 for a time, produced a like situation on the part of Grayson ; 
 but it lasted not long. With a sullen sort of resolution, gathering 
 into some of that energetic passion, as he -proceeded, which so 
 much marked his character, he broke the silence at length with 
 a word a single word uttered desperately, as it were, and with 
 a half choking enunciation : 
 
 " Miss Matthews" 
 
 She looked up at the sound, and as she beheld the dark ex- 
 pression of his eye, the concentrated glance, the compressed lip 
 as if he dared not trust himself to utter that which he felt at the 
 same time must be uttered she half started, and the "Sir" witn 
 which she acknowledged his address was articulated timorously. 
 " Be not alarmed, Miss Matthews ; be not alarmed. I see what 
 I would not see. I see that I am an object rather of fear, rather of 
 dislike detestation it may be than of any other of those sweetei 
 feelings I would freely give my life to. inspire in your heart." 
 
 " You wrong me, Master Grayson, indeed you do. I have no such 
 feelings for you, as those you speak of. I do not dislike or de- 
 test you, and I should be very sorry to have you think so. Do 
 not think so, I beg you."
 
 830 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " But you fear me you fear me, Miss Matthews, and the feeling 
 is much the same. Yet why should you fear me what have I 
 done, what said ?" 
 
 " You startle me, Master Gray son not that I fear you, for I 
 have no cause to fear when I have no desire to harm. But, in 
 truth, sir when you look so wildly and speak so strangely, I feel 
 unhappy and apprehensive ; and yet I do not fear you." 
 
 He looked upon her as she spoke with something of a smile a 
 derisive smile. 
 
 " Yet, if you knew all, Miss Matthews if you bad seen and 
 heard all ay, even of the. occurrences of the last few hours, you 
 would both fear and hate me." 
 
 " I do not fear to hear, Master Grayson, and therefore I beg that 
 you will speak out. You cannot, surely, design to terrify me ? 
 Let me but think so, sir, though for a moment only, and you will 
 as certainly fail." 
 
 " You are strong, but not strong enough to hear, without terror, 
 the story I could tell you. I said you feared, and perhaps hated 
 me more perhaps you despise me. I despise myself, sincerely, 
 deeply, for some of my doings, of which you my mad passion for 
 you, rather has been the cause." 
 
 " Speak no more of this, Master Grayson freely did I forgive 
 you that error I would also forget it, sir." 
 
 " That forgiveness was of no avail my heart has grown more 
 black, more malignant than ever ; and no need for wonder ! Let 
 your thoughts go back and examine, along with mine, its history ; 
 for, though, in this search, I feel the accursed probe irritating anew 
 at every touch the yet bleeding wound, I am not unwilling that my 
 own hand should direct it. Hear me. We were children toge- 
 ther, Bess Matthews. In our infancy, in another land, we played 
 happily together. When we came to this, unconscious almost of 
 our remove, for at first we were not separated, when the land was 
 new, and our fathers felled'the old trees and made a cabin in com- 
 mon for them both, for three happy years we played together undei 
 the same shelter. Day by day found us inseparate, and, at that 
 time, mutual dependants. Each day gave us a new consciousness, 
 and every new consciousness taught us a mo?* unselfish division of
 
 THE YEMASSEfi. 331 
 
 our gains. I feel that such was your spirit, Bess Matthews do 
 me the justice to say, you believe such was my spirit also." 
 
 " It was I believe it, Hugh Master Grayson, I mean." 
 
 " Oh, be not so frigid say Hugh Hugh, as of old you used to say 
 it," exclaimed the youth passionately, as she made the correction. 
 
 " Such was your spirit then, Hugh, I willingly say it. You 
 were a most unselfish playmate. I have always Hone vou justice 
 in my thought. I am glad still to do so." 
 
 " Then our school-mate life that came three months to me in 
 the year, with old Squire Downie, while you had all the year. I 
 envied you that, Bess, though I joyed still in your advantages. 
 What was my solace the rest of the year, when, without a feeling 
 for my labour, I ran the furrows, and following my father's footsteps, 
 dropped the grain into them ? What was my solace then ? Let me 
 answer, as perhaps you know not. The thought of the night, when, 
 unwearied by all exertion, I should fly over to your cottage, and chat 
 with you the few hours between nightfall and bedtime. I loved you 
 then. That was love, though neither of us knew it. It was not the 
 search after the playmate, but after the playmate's heart, that carried 
 me there; for my brother, with whom you played not less than with 
 myself, he sank wearied to his bed, though older and stronger than 
 myself. I was unfatigued, for I loved ; and thus it is that the body, 
 taking its temper from the affections, is strong or weak, bold or 
 timid, as they warm into emotion, or freeze with indifference. But 
 day after day, and night after night, I came ; unrelaxing, unchang- 
 ing, to watch your glance, to see the play of your lips to be the 
 adoring boy, afraid sometimes even to breathe, certainly to speak, 
 through fear of breaking the spell, or possibly of offending the 
 divinity to whom I owed so mucb, aud sent up feelings in prayer 
 so devoutly." 
 
 " Speak not thus extravagantly, Master Grayson, or I must leave 
 you." 
 
 " Hugh call me Hugh, will you not ? It bears me back back 
 to the boyhood I would I had never ri?en from." 
 
 " Hugh, then, I will call you, and with a true pleasure. Ay, 
 more, Hugh, I will be to you again the sieter ;vou f oan^ roe then ; 
 but you must not run on so idlv."
 
 332 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Idly, indeed, Bess Matthews, when for a dearer and a sweetei 
 name I must accept that of sister. Put let me speak ere I madden 
 Time came with all his changes. The neighbourhood thickened, 
 we were no longer few in number, and consequently no longer de- 
 pendant upon one another. The worst change followed then, Bess 
 Matthews the change in you." 
 
 " How, Hugh you saw no change in me. I have surely been 
 the same always." 
 
 " No, no many changes I saw in you. Every hour bad its 
 change, and most of them were improving changes. With every 
 change you grew more beautiful ; and the auburn of your hair in 
 changing to a deep and glossy brown, and the soft pale of your 
 girlish cheek in putting on a leaf of the most delicate rose, and the 
 bright glance of your eye in assuming a soft and qualifying moist- 
 ure in its expression, were all so many exquisite changes of lovely 
 to .lovelier, and none of them unnoticed by me. My eyes were 
 sentinels that slept not when watching yours. I saw every change, 
 however unimportant however unseen by others ! Not a glance 
 not a feature not a tone not an expression did I leave un- 
 studied ; and every portraiture, indelibly fixed upon my memory, 
 underwent comparison in my lingering reflection before slumbering 
 at night. Need I tell you, that watching your person thus, your 
 mind underwent a not less scrupulous examination. I weighed 
 every sentence of your lips every thought of your sense every 
 feeling of your heart. I could detect the unuttered emotion in 
 your eyes ; and the quiver of your lip, light as that of the rose 
 when the earliest droppings of the night dew steal into its bosom, 
 was perceptible to that keen glance of love which I kept for ever 
 upon you. How gradual then was the change which I noted day 
 by day. He came at length, and with a prescience which forme 
 no small portion of the spirit of a true affection, I cursed him when 
 I saw him. You saw him too, and then the change grew rapid 
 dreadfully rapid, to my eyes. He won you, as you had won me. 
 There was an instinct in it. You no longer cared whether I came 
 to you or not ' 
 
 " Nay, Hugh there you are wrong again I was always glad 
 always most hapny to see you."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 333 
 
 " You think so, Bess ; I am willing to believe you think so 
 but it is you who are wrong. I know that you cared not whether 
 I came or not, for on the subject your thought never rested for a 
 moment, or but for r, moment. I soon discovered that you were. 
 also important in his sight, and I hated him the more for the 
 discovery I hated him the more for loving you. Till this day, 
 however, I had not imagined the extent to which you had botli 
 g 0tie I had not feared, I had not felt all my desolation. I had 
 only dreamed of and dreaded it. But when, in a paroxysm of 
 madness, I looked upon you and saw saw your mutual lips ' 
 
 " No more, Master Grayson," she interposed with dignity. 
 
 " I will not forgive me ; but you know how it maddened me, 
 and how I erred, and how you rebuked me. How dreadful was 
 that rebuke ! but it did not restrain the error it impelled me to 
 a new one " 
 
 " What new one, Hugh ?" 
 
 " Hear me ! This man Harrison that I should speak his 
 name ! that I should speak it praisefully too ! he came to our 
 cottage showed our danger from the Yemassees to my mother, 
 and would have persuaded her to fly this morning but I inter- 
 fered and prevented the removal. He saw my brother, however, 
 and as Walter is almost his worshipper, he was more successful 
 with him. Leaving you in a mood little short of madness this 
 afternoon, I hurried home, but there I could not rest, and vexed 
 with a thousand dreadful thoughts, I wandered from the house 
 away into the woods. After a while came the tread of ahorse rapidly 
 driving up the river-trace, and near the spot where I wandered. 
 The rider was Harrison. He alighted at a little distance from me, 
 tied his horse to a shrub, and threw himself just before me upon 
 the grass. A small tree stood between us, and my approach was 
 unnoticed. I heard him murmuring, and with the same base spirit 
 which prompted me to look down on your meeting to-day, I lis- 
 tened to his language. His words were words of tenderness and 
 love of triumphant love, and associated with your name he 
 epoke of you God curse him ! as his own." 
 
 The word " Gabriel " fell unconsciously from the lips of the 
 maiden as she heard this part of the narrntivt-. For ;i moment
 
 334 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 Grayson paused, and his brow grew black, while his teeth wero 
 compressed closely ; but as she looked up, as if impatient for the 
 rest of his narrative, he went on : 
 
 " Then I maddened. Then I grew fiendish. I know not whence 
 the impulse, but it must have been from hell. I sprang upon him, 
 and with the energies of a tiger and with more than his ferocity, 
 I pinioned him to the ground, my knee upon his breast one hand 
 upon his throat, and with my knife in the other " 
 
 " Stay ! God man say that you slew him not ! You struck 
 not oh ! you kept back your hand he lives !" Convulsed with 
 terror, she clasped the arm of the speaker, while her face grew 
 haggard with affright, aad her eyes seemed starting from theii 
 sockets. 
 
 " I slew him not !" he replied solemnly. 
 
 " God bless you God bless you !" was all that she could utter 
 as she sank back fainting upon the floor of the apartment
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 "Thou hast not slain her with thy cruel word, 
 She lires, she wakes her eyes unclose again, 
 And I breathe freely." 
 
 PASSIONATE and thoughtless, Hugh Grayson had not calculated 
 the consequences of his imprudent and exciting narrative upon a 
 mind so sensitive. He was now aware of his error, and his alarm 
 at her situation was extreme. He lifted her from the floor, and 
 supported her to a seat, endeavouring, as well as he could, with 
 due care and anxiety, to restore her to consciousness. While thus 
 employed the pastor re-entered the apartment, and his surprise 
 may be imagined. 
 
 " Ha ! what is the matter with my child ? what has happened ? 
 what alarmed her? Speak, Master Grayson! Tell me what has 
 caused all this ! My child ! Bessy, my child ^ Look up ! open 
 your eyes. Tell me! say ! see, it is thy old fa' her that has thee 
 now. Thou art safe, my child. Safe with thy father. There is 
 no danger now. Look up, look up, my child, and speak to me !" 
 
 Without answering, Grayson resigned her to the hands of the 
 pastor, and with folded arms and a face full of gloomy expression, 
 stood gazing upon the scene in silence. The father supported her 
 tenderly, and with a show of fervency not common to a habit 
 which, from constant exercise, and the pruderies of a form of wor- 
 ship rather too much given to externals, had, in progress of time, 
 usurped dominion over a temper originally rather passionate than 
 phlegmatic. Exclaiming all the while to the unconscious girl 
 and now and then addressing Grayson in a series of broken sen- 
 tences, the old man proved the possession of a degree of regard 
 for his child which might have appeared doubtful before. Grayson, 
 meanwhile, stood by, an awed and silent spectator, bitterly re- 
 proaching himself for his imprudence in making such a commu
 
 336 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 nication, and striving, in his own mind, to forge or force an apology 
 at least to himself, for the heedlessness which had marked hia 
 conduct. 
 
 " What, Master Grayson, has been the cause of this ? Sptak 
 out, sir my daughter is my heart, and you have trifled with her. 
 Beware, sir. I am an old man, and a professor of a faith whose 
 essence is peace; but I am still a man, sir with the feelings and 
 the passions of a man ; and sooner than my child should suffer 
 wrong, slight as a word, I will even throw aside that faith and 
 become a man of blood. Speak, sir, what has made all this ?" 
 
 The youth grew firmer under such an exhortation, for his was 
 the nature to be won rather than commanded. He looked firmly 
 into the face of the speaker, and his brow gathered to a frown. 
 The old man saw it, and saw in the confidence his glance expressed 
 that however he might have erred, he had at least intended no dis- 
 respect. As this conviction came to his mind, he immediately 
 addressed his companion in a different character, while returning 
 consciousness in his daughter's eyes warned him also to modera- 
 tion. 
 
 " I have been harsh, Master Grayson harsh, indeed, my son ; 
 but my daughter is dear to me as the fresh blood around my heart, 
 and suffering with her is soreness and more than suffering to me. 
 Forbear to say, at this time I see that she has misunderstood you, 
 or her sickness may have some other cause. Look bring me 
 some water, my son." 
 
 " My son !" muttered Grayson to himself as he proceeded to 
 the sideboard where stood the pitcher. Pouring some of its con- 
 tents into a glass, he approached the maiden, whose increasing sighs 
 indicated increasing consciousness. The old man was about to 
 take the glass from his hands when her unclosing eye rested upon 
 him. With a shriek she started to her feet, and lifting her hand 
 as if to prevent his approach, and averting her eye as if to shut 
 his presence from her sight, she exclaimed 
 
 " Away ! thou cruel murderer come not nigh me look not on 
 me touch me not with thy hands of blood. Touch me not 
 away !" 
 
 " God of Heaven !" exclaimed Grayson, in like horror, " what
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 337 
 
 indeed have I done ? Forgive me, Miss Matthews, forgive me 
 I am no murderer. He lives I struck him not. Forgive me !" 
 
 " I have no forgiveness none. Thou hast lifted thy hand 
 against God's image thou hast sought to slay a noble gentleman 
 to whom thou art as nothing. Away let me not look upon thee !" 
 
 '' 13e calm, Bess my daughter. Thou dost mistake. This is 
 no murderer this is our young friend, thy old playmate, Hugh 
 Grayson." 
 
 " Ay ! he came with that old story, of how we played together, 
 n.nd spoke of his love and all and then showed me a knife, and 
 lifted his bloody hands to my face, and Oh ! it was too horrible." 
 And she shivered at the association of terrible objects which hei 
 imagination continued to conjure up. 
 
 " Thou hast wrought upon her over much, Master Grayson, and 
 though I think with no ill intent, yet it would seein with but small 
 judgment." 
 
 "True, sir and give me, I pray you, but a few moments with 
 your daughter a few moments alone, that I may seek to undc 
 this cruel thought which she now appears to hold me in. But a 
 few moments believe me, I shall say nothing unkind or offensive." 
 
 " Leave me not, father go not out rather let him go where I 
 may not see him, for he has been a base spy, and would have been 
 a foul murderer, but that the good spirit held back his hand." 
 
 " Thou sayest rightly, Bess Matthews I have been base ami 
 foul but thou sayest ungently and against thy better nature, for 
 I have scorned myself that I was so. Give me leave let thy 
 father go turn thy head close thine eyes. I ask thee not to 
 look upon me, but hear me, and the quest which I claim rather 
 from thy goodness than from any meritings of mine own." 
 
 There was a gloomy despondence in his looks, and a tone of 
 wretched self-abandonment in his voice, that went to the heart of 
 the maiden, as, while he spoke, she turned, and her eyes were bent 
 upon him. Looking steadfastly upon his face for a few moments 
 after he had ceased speaking, she appeared slowly to deliberate ; 
 then, as if satisfied, she turned to her father, and with a motion of 
 her hand signified her consent. The old man retired, and Gray- 
 son would have led her to a seat ; but rejecting his proffered aid 
 15
 
 dd8 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 with much firmness, she drew a chair, and motioning him also td 
 one at a little distance, she prepared to hear him. 
 
 " I needed not this, Miss Matthews, to feel how deeply I had 
 erred how dreadfully I have been punished. When you know 
 that I have had but one stake in life that I have lived but for one 
 object and have lived in vain and am now denied, you will not 
 need to be told how completely unnecessary to my torture and trial 
 is the suspicion of your he'art, and the coldness of your look and 
 manner. I came to-night and sought this interview, hopeless of 
 anything beside, at least believing myself not altogether unworthy 
 of your esteem. To prove this more certainly to your mind, 1 laid 
 bare my own. I suppressed nothing you saw my uncovered 
 soul, and without concealment I resolutely pointed out to you all 
 its blots all its deformities. I spoke of my love for you, of its 
 extent, not that I might claim any from you in return for I saw 
 that such hope was idle ; and, indeed, knowing what I do, and how 
 completely your heart is in the possession of another, were it 
 oiTered to me at this moment, could I accept of it on any terms ? 
 Base as I have been fora moment criminal, as at another moment 
 I would have been, I value still too deeply my own affections to 
 yield them to one who cannot make a like return, and with as few 
 reservations. But I told you of my love that you should find 
 something in its violence say its madness to extenuate, if not 
 to excuse, the errors to which it has prompted me. I studiously 
 declared those errors, the better to prove to you that I was no 
 hypocrite, and the more certainly therefore to inspire your confi- 
 dence in one who, if he did not avoid, was at least as little willing 
 to defend them. I came to you for your pardon ; and unable to 
 win your love, I sought only for your esteem. I have spoken." 
 
 " Master Hugh Grayson I have heard you, and am willing to 
 believe in much that you have said; but I am not prepared to be- 
 lieve that in much that you have said you have not been practising 
 upon yourself. You have said you loved me, and I believe it 
 sorry I am that you should love unprofitably anywhere more 
 sorry still that I should be the unwitting occasion of a misspent and 
 profitless passion. But, look closely into yourself into your own 
 thoughts, and then ask how you loved me? Let me answer not
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 339 
 
 as a woman not as a thinking and a feeling creature but as ? 
 plaything, whom your inconsiderate passion might practise upon 
 at will, and move to tears or smiles, as may best accord with a 
 caprice that has never from childhood been conscious of any sub- 
 jection. Even now, you come to me -for my confidence my 
 esteem. Yet you studiously practise upon my afi'ections and emo- 
 tions upon my woman weaknesses. You saw that I loved another 
 I shame not to say it, for I believe and feel it and you watched 
 me like a spy. You had there no regulating principle keeping 
 down impulse, but with the caprice of a bad passion, consenting to 
 a meanness, which js subject to punishment in our very slaves. 
 Should I trust the man who, under any circumstances save those 
 of another's good and safety, should deserve the epithet of eaves- 
 dropper ?" 
 
 " Forbear forbear in mercy !" 
 
 " No, Master Grayson let me not forbear. Were it principle 
 and not pride that called upon me to forbear, I should obey it ; 
 but I have known you from childhood, Hugh, and I speak to you 
 now with all the freedom and, believe me with all the affection 
 of that period. I know your failing, and I speak to it. I would 
 not wound your heart, I only aim at the amendment of your un- 
 derstanding. I would give it a true direction. I believe your 
 heart to be in the right place it only wants that your mind should 
 never swerve from its place. Forgive me, therefore, if, speaking 
 what I hold to be just, I should say that which should seem to be 
 harsh also." 
 
 " Go on go on, Miss Matthews I can bear it all anything 
 from you." 
 
 " And but small return, Master Grayson, for I have borne much 
 from you. Not content with the one error, which freely I forgave 
 so far as forgiveness may be yielded without amendment or re- 
 pentance you proceeded to another to a crime; a dark, a dread- 
 ful crime. You sought the life of a fellow-creature, without pro- 
 vocation, and worse still, Master Grayson, without permitting your 
 enemy the common footing of equality. In that one act there waa 
 malignity, murder, and " 
 
 " No more no more speak it not "
 
 840 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Cowardice !" 
 
 " Thou art bent to crush me quite, Bess Matthews thou 
 wouldst have me in the dust thy foot on my head, and the world 
 seeing it This is thy triumph." 
 
 " A sad one, Hugh Grayson a sad one for thou hast thy good 
 tiiy noble qualities, wert thou not a slave." 
 
 " Slave, too malignant, murderer, coward, slave." 
 
 " Ay, to thv baser" thoughts, and from these would I free thee. 
 With thee I believe it is but to know the tyranny to overthrow 
 it. Thy pride of independence would then be active, and in that 
 particular most nobly exercised. But let ni proceed." 
 
 " Is there more ?" 
 
 ' Yes, and thou wilt better prove thy regard for my esteem, 
 when thou wilt stand patiently to hear me out. Thou didst not 
 kill, but all the feeling of death the death of the mind was 
 undergone by thy destined victim. He felt himself under thee, 
 he saw no hope, he looked up in the glance of thy descending knife, 
 and knew not that the good mood would so soon return to save 
 him from death, and thee from perdition. In his thought thou 
 didst slay him, though thou struck no blow to his heart." 
 
 " True, true I thought not of that." 
 
 " Yet thou earnest to me, Hugh Grayson, and claimed merit for 
 thy forbearance. Thou wert confident, because thou didst not all 
 the crime thy first criminal spirit proposed to thee. Shall I sug- 
 gest that the good angel which interposed was thy weakness art 
 thou sure that the dread of punishment, and not the feeling of 
 good, stayed thee not ?" 
 
 " No ! as I live, as I stand before thee, Bess Matthews, thou 
 dost me wrong. God help me, no ! I was bad enough, and base- 
 enough, without that it was not the low fear of the hangman 
 not the rope not the death. I am sure it was any thing but that." 
 
 " I believe you ; but what was it brought you tome with all this 
 story the particulars at full, the dreadful incidents one upon tin; 
 other, until thou saw'st my agony under the uplifted knife aiming 
 at the bosom of one as far above thee, Hugh Grayson, in all that 
 makes the noble gentleman, as it is possible for principle to be 
 above passion, and the love of God and good works superior to tho
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 341 
 
 fear of punishment. Where was thy manliness in this recital ? 
 Thou hast no answer here." 
 
 " Thou speakest proudly for him, Bess Matthews it is well he 
 stands so high in thy sight." 
 
 " I forgive thee that sneer, too, Master Grayson, along with thy 
 malignity, thy murder, and thy manliness. Be thou forgiven of 
 all but let us say no more together. My regards are not with 
 me to bestow they belong to thy doings, and thou mayst com- 
 mand, not solicit, whenever thou dost deserve them. Let us speak 
 no more together." 
 
 " Cruel most heartless am I so low in thy sight ? See, I am 
 at thy feet trample me in the dust I will not shrink I will not 
 reproach^ thee." 
 
 "Thou shouklst shame at this practice upon my feelings. Thou, 
 Hugh Grayson with thy mind, with thy pride shouldst not aim 
 to do by passionate entreaty what thou mayst not do by sense and 
 right reason. Rise, sir thou canst not move me now. Thou hast 
 undone thyself in my sight thou need'st not sink at my feet to 
 have me look down upon thee." 
 
 Had a knife gone into the heart of the young man, a more 
 agonizing expression could nothave overshadowed his countenance- 
 The firmness of the maiden had taught him her strength not less 
 than his own weakness. He felt his error, and with the mind for 
 which she had given him credit, he rose with a new determination 
 to his feet. 
 
 " Thou art right, Miss Matthews and in all that has passed, 
 mine has been the error and the wrong. I will, not ask for the 
 regards which I should command ; but thou shalt hear well of me 
 henceforward, and wilt do me more grateful justice when we meet 
 again." 
 
 " I take thy promise, Hugh, for I know thy independence of 
 character, and such a promise will not be necessary now for thy 
 good. Take my hand I forgive thee. It is my weakness, per- 
 haps, to do so but I forgive thee." 
 
 He seized her hand, which she had, with a girlish frankness, 
 extended to him, carried it suddenly to his lips, and immediately 
 left the dwelling.
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 M The storm cloud gathers fast, the hour's at ban 1, 
 When it will burst in fury o'er the land ; 
 Yet is the quiet beautiful the rush 
 Of the sweet south is all disturbs the hush, 
 While, like pure spirits, the pale night-stars brood 
 O'er forests which the Indian bathes in blood." 
 
 A BRIEF and passing dialogue between Grayson and the pastor, 
 at the entrance, partially explained to the latter the previous his- 
 tory. The disposition of Matthews in regard to the pretensions of 
 Grayson to his daughter's hand of which he had long been con- 
 scious was rather favourable than otherwise. In this particular 
 the suit of Grayson derived importance from the degree of ill-favour 
 with which the old gentleman had been accustomed to consider 
 that of Harrison. With strong prejudices, the pastor was quite 
 satisfied to obey an impression, and to mistake, as with persons of 
 strong prejudices is frequently the case, an impulse for an argu- 
 ment. Not that he could urge any thing against the suitor who 
 was the favourite of his child of that he felt satisfied but, com- 
 ing fairly under the description of the doggerel satirist, he did not 
 dislike Harrison a jot less for having little reason to dislike him. 
 And there is something in this. 
 
 It was, therefore, with no little regret, that he beheld the depar- 
 ture of Grayson under circumstances so unfavourable to his suit. 
 From his own, and the lips of his daughter, alike, he had been 
 taught to understand that she had objections ; but the emotion of 
 Grayson, and the openly-expressed indignation of Bess, at once 
 satis tied him of the occurrence of that which effectually excluded 
 the hope that time might effect some change for the better. He 
 was content, therefore, simply to regret what his own good sense 
 taught him he could not amend, and what his great regard for his 
 chilli's peace persuaded him not to attempt.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 343 
 
 Grayson, in the meantime, hurried away under strong excito- 
 rm nt. He had felt deeply the denial, but far more deeply the 
 rebukes of the maiden. She had searched narrowly into his inner 
 mind had probed close its weaknesses had laid bare to his own 
 eyes those silent motives of his conduct, which he had not himself 
 dared to analyze or encounter. His pride was hurt by her re- 
 proaches, and he was ashamed of the discoveries which she had 
 made. Though mortified to the soul, however, there was a redeem- 
 ing principle at work within him. He had been the slave of his 
 mood : but he determined, from that moment, upon the overthrow 
 of the tyranny. To this she had counselled him ; to this his 
 own pride of character had also counselled him ; and, though 
 agonized with the defeated hopes clamouring in his bosom, he 
 adopted a noble decision, and determined to be at least worthy of 
 the love which he yet plainly felt he could never win. His course 
 now was to adopt energetic measures in preparing for any contest 
 that might happen with the Indians. Of this danger he was 
 not altogether conscious. He did not imagine it so near at hand, 
 and had only given in to precautionary measures with regard to 
 his mother, in compliance with his brother's wish, and as no great 
 inconvenience could result from their temporary removal. But the 
 inflexible obstinacy of the pastor in refusing to take the shelter of 
 the contiguous Block House, led him more closely to reflect upon 
 the consequent exposure of Bess Matthews; and, from thus reflect- 
 ing, the danger became magnified to his eyes. He threw himself 
 upon the steed of Harrison, as soon as he reached the Block 
 House; and without troubling himself to explain to any one his 
 intentions, for he was too proud for that, he set off at once, and 
 at full speed, to arouse such of the neighbouring foresters as had 
 not yet made their appearance at the place of gathering, or had 
 been too remotely situated for previous warning. 
 
 The old pastor, on parting with the disappointed youth, ^re- 
 entered the dwelling, and without being perceived by his daughter. 
 She stood in the middle of the apartment, her finger upon her 
 lips, and absorbed in meditation as quiet as if she had never 
 before been disturbed for an instant; like some one of those fine 
 embodiments of heavenward devotion we meet with now and ther*
 
 844 THE YEMASSEK 
 
 in a Holy Family by one of the old masteio. He approached her, 
 and when his presence became evident, she knelt suddenly before 
 him. 
 
 " Bless me, father dear father bless me, and let me retire." 
 
 " God bless you, Bess and watch over and protect you but 
 what disturbs you ? You are troubled." 
 
 " I know not, father but I fear. I fear something terrible, yet 
 know not what. My thoughts are all in confusion." 
 
 " You need sleep, my child, and quiet. These excitements and 
 foolish reports have worried you; but a night's sleep will make 
 all well again. Go now go to your mother, and may the good 
 angels keep you." 
 
 With the direction she arose, and threw her arms about his neck, 
 and with a kiss, affectionately bidding him good night, she retired 
 to her chamber, first passing a few brief moments with her 
 mother in the adjoining room. Calling to the trusty negro who 
 performed such offices in his household, the pastor gave orders for 
 the securing of the house, and retired to his chamber also. July 
 the name of the negro proceeded to fasten the windows. 
 Tl is he did by means of a wooden bolt ; and thrusting a 
 thick bar of knotted pine into hooks on either side of the door, 
 he coolly threw himself down to his own slumbers alongside of 
 it. We need scarcely add, knowing the susceptibility of the black 
 in this particular, that sleep was not slow in its approaches to 
 the strongest tower in the citadel of his senses. The subtle 
 deity soon mastered all his sentinels, and a snore, not the most 
 scrupulous in the world, sent forth from the flattened but capacious 
 nostrils, soon announced his entire conquest over the premises 
 he had invaded. 
 
 But though she retired to her chamber, Bess Matthews in vain 
 sought for sleep. Distressed by the previous circumstances, and 
 warmly excited as she had been by the trying character of the 
 scene through which she had recently jpassed, she had vainly en- 
 deavoured to find that degree of quiet, which she felt necessary to 
 her mental not less than to her physical repose. After tossing 
 fruitlessly on her couch for a fatiguing hour, she arose, and slightly 
 unclosing the window, the only one in her chamber, she looked
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 345 
 
 forth upon the night. It was clear, with many stars a s.ight 
 breeze bent the tree-tops, and their murmurs, as they swayed to 
 and fro, were pleasant to her melancholy fancies. How could she 
 sleep when she thought of the voluntary risk taken by Harrison? 
 Where was he then in what danger, surrounded by what deadly 
 enemies ? perhaps under their very knives, and she not there to 
 interpose to implore for to save him. How could she fail to 
 love so much disinterested generosity so much valour and adven- 
 ture, taken, as with a pardonable vanity, she fondly thought, so 
 much for her safety and for the benefit of hers. Thus musing, thus 
 watching, she lingered at the window, looking forth, but half con- 
 scious as she gazed, upon the thick woods, stretching away in black 
 masses, of those old Indian forests. Just then, the moon rose 
 calmly and softly in tha east a fresher breeze rising along with, 
 and gathering seemingly with her ascent. The river wound partly 
 before her gaze, and there was a long bright shaft of light a pure 
 white gleam, which even its ripples could not overcome or dissipate, 
 borrowed from the pale orb just then swelling above it. Suddenly 
 a canoe shot across the water in the distance then another, and 
 another quietly, and with as little show of life, as if they were 
 only the gloomy shades of the past generation's warriors. Not a 
 voice, not a whisper not even the flap of an oar, disturbed the 
 deep hush of the scene ; and the little canoes that showed dimly 
 in the river from afar, as soon as they had overshot the pale gleamy 
 bar of the moon upon its bosom, were no longer perceptible. Mus- 
 ing upon these objects with a vague feeling of danger, and an op- 
 pressive sense at the same time of exhaustion, which forbade any- 
 thing like a coherent estimate of the thoughts which set in upon 
 her mind like so many warring currents. Bess left the window, and 
 threw herself, listlessly yet sad, upon the couch, vainly soliciting 
 that sleep which seemed so reluctant to come. How slow was its 
 progress how long before she felt the haze growing over her eye- 
 lids. A sort of stupor succeeded she was conscious of the uncer- 
 tainty of her perception, and though still, at intervals, the beams 
 from the fast ascending moon caught her eyes, they flitted before 
 her like spiritual forms that looked on and came but to depart. 
 These at length went from her entirely as a sudden gust closed the 
 15*
 
 346 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 shutter, and a difficult and not very sound slumber came at last to 
 her relief. 
 
 A little before this, and with the first moment of the rise of the 
 raoon on the eastern summits, the watchful Hector, obedient to his 
 orders, prepared to execute the charge which his master had given 
 him at parting. Releasing Dugdale from the log to which he had 
 been bound, he led the impatiejat and fierce animal down to the 
 river's brink, and through the tangled route only known to the 
 hunter. The single track, imperfectly visible in the partial light, 
 impeded somewhat his progress, so that the moon was fairly visible 
 by the time he reached the river. This circumstance was produc- 
 tive of some small inconvenience to the faithful slave, since it 
 proved him something of a laggard in his duty, and at the same 
 time, from the lateness of the hour, occasioned no little anxiety in 
 his mind for his master's safety. With a few words, well under- 
 stood seemingly by the well-trained animal, he cheered him on ? 
 and pushing him to the slight trench made by the horse's hoof, 
 clearly defined upon the path, and which had before been shown 
 him, he thrust his nose gently down upon it, while taking from his 
 head the muzzle; without which he must have been a dangerous 
 neighbour to the Indians, for whose pursuit he had been originally 
 trained by the Spaniards, in a system, the policy of which was still 
 in part continued, or rather, of late, revived, by his present owner. 
 
 " Now, go wid you, Dugdale ; be oft", da's a good dog, and 
 look out for your maussa. Dis he track hark hark hark, dog 
 dis de track ob he critter. Nose 'em, old boy nose 'em well. 
 Make yourself good nigger, for you hab blessed maussa. Soon 
 you go now, better for bote. Hark 'em, boy, hark 'em, and hole 
 em fast." 
 
 The animal seemed to comprehend looked intelligently up into 
 the face of his keeper, then stooping down, carefully drew a long 
 breath as he scented the designated spot, coursed a few steps 
 quickly around it, and then, as if perfectly assured, sent forth a 
 long deep bay, and set off on the direct route with all the fleetness 
 of a deer. 
 
 " Da good dog dat, dat same Dugdale. But he hab reason 
 Hector no gib 'em meat for not'ing. Spaniard no 1'arn 'em bet
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 347 
 
 ter, aud de Lord hab mercy 'pon dem Ingiu, eff h' once stick lie 
 teet in he troat. He better bin in de fire, for he iieber left' oft, 
 long as he kin kick. Hark da good dog, Cat same Dugdale. 
 Wonder way maussa pick up da naine for 'em ; speck he Spanish 
 in English, he bin Dogdale." 
 
 Thus soliloquizing, after his own fashion, the negro turned his 
 eyes in the direction of the strange vessel, lying about a mile and 
 a half above the bank upon which he stood, and now gracefully 
 outlined by the soft light of the moon. She floated there, in the 
 bosom of the stream, still and silent as a sheeted spectre, and to all 
 appearance with quite as little life. Built after the finest models 
 of her time, aud with a distinct regard to the irregular pursuits in 
 which she was engaged, her appearance carried to the mind an 
 idea of lightness and swiftness which was not at variance with her 
 character. The fairy-like tracery of her slender masts, her spars, 
 and cordage, harmonized well with the quiet water upon which she 
 rested like some native bird, and with the soft and luxuriant foliage 
 covering the scenery around, just then coming out from shadow into 
 thj gatheri'g moonbeams. 
 
 While tne black looked, his eye was caught by a stir upon the 
 bank directly opposite ; and, at length, shooting out from the shel- 
 ter of cane and brush which thickly fringed a small lagune in that 
 direction, he distinctly saw eight or ten large double canoes making 
 for the side of the river upon which he stood. They seemed filled 
 with men, and their paddles were moved with a velocity only sur- 
 passed by the silence which accompanied their use. The mischief 
 was now sufficiently apparent, even to a mind so obtuse as that of 
 the negro ; and, without risking any thing by personal delay, but 
 now doubly aroused in anxiety for his master whose predictions 
 he saw were about to be verified he took his way back to the 
 Block House with a degree of hurry proportioned to what he felt 
 was the urgency of the case. It did not take him long to reach 
 the Block House, into which he soon found entrance, and gave the 
 alarm. Proceeding to the quarter in which the wife of Granger 
 kept her abode, he demanded from her a knife all the weapon he 
 wanted while informing her, as he had already done those having 
 charge of the fortress, of the approaching enemy.
 
 348 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " What do you want with the knife, Hector !" 
 
 " I want 'em, missis da's all I guine after maussa." 
 
 '' What ! the captain ? why, where is he, Hector ?" 
 
 " Speck he in berry much trouble. I must go see a'ter 'em. 
 Dugdale gone 'ready Dugdale no better sarbant dan Hector. 
 Gib me de knife, missis dat same long one I hab for cut ho 
 meat." 
 
 " But, Hector, you can be of very little good if the Indians ar 
 out. You don't know where to look for the captain, and yuu'll 
 tread on them as you go through the bush." 
 
 "I can't help it, missis I must go. I hab Land and foot I 
 nab knife I hab eye for see I hab toot for bite I 'trong, missis, 
 and I must go loo*k for maussa. God ! missis, if any ting happen 
 to maussa, wha Hector for do ? where he guine who be he new 
 maussa ? I must go, missis gib me de knife." 
 
 " Well, Hector, if you will go, here's what you want. Here's 
 the knife, and here's your master's gun. You must take that too, 1 
 said the woman. 
 
 " No I tank 'you for not'ing, missis. I no want gun ; I 'fraid 
 ob 'em ; he kin shoot all sides. I no like 'em. Gi' me knife. I 
 use to knife I kin scalp dem Injin wid knife a'ter he own fashion. 
 But I no use to gun." 
 
 " W'ell, but your master is used to it. You must carry it for 
 him. He has no arms, and this may save his life. Hold it so, and 
 there's no danger." 
 
 She showed the timid Hector how to carry the loaded weapon 
 so as to avoid risk to himself, and, persuaded of its importance to 
 his master, he ventured to take it in his hands. 
 
 " Well, da 'nough I no want any more. I gone, missis, I gone 
 but 'member ef maussa come back and Hector loss 'member, 
 I say, I no runway 'member dat. I scalp I drown I dead 
 ebbery ting happen to me but I no runway." 
 
 With these last words, the faithful black started upon his adven- 
 eure of danger, resolute and strong, in the warm affection which 
 he bore his master, to contend with every form of difficulty. He 
 left the garrison at the Block House duly aroused to the conflict, 
 which they were now satisfied was not far off.
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 " Oh ! wherefore stnke the beautiful, the young, 
 So innocent, unharming t Lift the knife, 
 If need be, 'gainst the warrior ; but forbear 
 The trembling woman." 
 
 LET us now return to the chamber of Bess Matthews. She slept 
 not soundly, but unconsciously, and heard not the distant but 
 approaching cry " Sangarrah-me Sangarrah-me !" The war had 
 begun ; and in the spirit and with the words of Yemassee battle, 
 the thirst for blood was universal among their warriors. From the 
 war-dance, blessed by the prophet, stimulated by his exhortations, 
 and warmed by the blood of their human sacrifice, they had started 
 upon the war-path in every direction. The larger division, led on 
 by Sanutee and the prophet, took their course directly for Charles- 
 ton, while Ishiagaska, heading a smaller party, proceeded to the 
 frontier settlements upon the Pocota-ligo, intending massacre along 
 the whole line of the white borders, including the now flourishing 
 town of Beaufort. From house to house, with the stealth of a cat, 
 he led his baud to indiscriminate slaughter, and, diverging with this 
 object from one settlement to another, he contrived to reach every 
 dwelling-place of the whites known to him in that neighbourhood. 
 But in many places he had been foiled. The providential arrange- 
 ments of Harrison, wherever, in the brief time allowed him, he 
 had found it possible, had rendered their design in great part 
 innocuous throughout that section, and, duly angered with his dis- 
 appointment, it was not long before Ishiagaska came to the little 
 cottage of the pastor. The lights had been all extinguished, and, 
 save on the eastern side, the dwelling lay in the deepest shadow. 
 The quiet of the whole scene formed an admirable contrast to the 
 horrors gathering in perspective, and about to destroy its sacred and 
 sweet repose for ever. 
 
 With the wonted caution of the Indian, Ishiagaska led on his
 
 350 T1IE YEMASSEE. 
 
 band in silence. No sound was permitted to go before the assault 
 The war-whoop, with which they anticipate or accompany the 
 stroke of battle, was not suffered, in the present instance, to pre- 
 pare, with a salutary terror, the minds of their destined victims. 
 Massacre, not battle, was the purpose, and the secret stratagem of 
 the marauder usurped the fierce habit of the avowed warrior. 
 Passing from cover to cover, the wily savage at length approached 
 the cottage with his party. He stationed them around it, con- 
 cealed each under his tree. He alone advanced to the dwelling 
 with the stealth of a panther. Avoiding the clear path of the 
 moon, he availed himself, now of one and now of another shelter 
 the bush, the tree whatever might afford a concealing shadow 
 in his approach ; and where this was wanting, throwing himself 
 flat upon the ground, he crawled on like a serpent now lying 
 snug and immo'veable, now taking a new start and hurrying in his 
 progress, and at last placing himself successfully alongside of the 
 little white paling which fenced in the cottage, and ran at a little 
 distance around it. He parted the thong which secured the wicket 
 with his knife, ascended the little avenue, and then, giving ear to 
 every quarter of the dwelling, and finding all still, proceeded on 
 tiptoe to try the fastenings of every window. The door he felt, 
 was secure so was each window in the body of the house, which 
 he at length encompassed, noting every aperture in it. At length 
 he came to the chamber where Bess Matthews slept, a chamber 
 forming one-half of the little shed, or addition to the main dwell- 
 ing the other half being occupied for the same purpose by her 
 parents. He placed his hand gently upon the shutter, and with 
 savage joy he felt it yield beneath his touch. 
 
 The moment Ishiagaska made this discovery, he silently retreated 
 to a little distance from the dwelling, and with a signal which had 
 been agreed upon the single and melancholy note of the whip- 
 poor-will he gave notice to his band for their approach. Imitating 
 his previous caution, they came forward individually to the cot- 
 tage, and gathering around him, under ihe shadow of a neigh- 
 bouring tree, they duly arranged the method of surprise. 
 
 This done, under the guidance of Ishiagaska, they again ap- 
 proached the dwelling, and a party having been stationed nt Jim
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 351 
 
 door in silence, another party with their leader returned to the win- 
 dow which was accessible. Lifted quietly upon the shoulders of 
 two of them, Ishiagaska was at once upon a level with it. He 
 had already drawn it aside, and, by the light of the moon which 
 streamed into the little apartment, he was enabled with a single 
 glance to take in its contents. The half-slumbering girl felt con- 
 scious of a sudden gush of air a rustling sound, and perhaps a 
 darkening shadow ; but the obtrusion was not sufficient to alarm 
 into action faculties which had been so very much excited, and 
 subsequently depressed, by the severe mental trials to which she 
 had been subjected, and which did not cease to trouble her even 
 while she slept. It was in her exhaustion only that sleep came to 
 her relief. But even in her dreams there floated images of terror; 
 and vague aspects that troubled or threatened, caused her to moan 
 in her sleep, as at a danger still to be apprehended or deplored. 
 She lay motionless, however, and the wily savage succeeded 
 in gaining the floor of her chamber without disturbing the sleeper. 
 Here he stood, silent for awhile, surveying at his ease the com- 
 posed and beautiful outline of his victim's person. And she 
 was beautiful the ancient worship might well have chosen such an 
 offering in sacrifice to his choice demon. Never did her beauty 
 show forth more exquisitely than now, when murder stood 
 nigh, ready to blast it for ever ready to wrest the sacred fire of 
 life from the altar of that heart which had maintained itself so 
 well worthy of the heaven from whence it came. Ishiagaska looked 
 on, but with no feeling inconsistent with the previous aim which 
 had brought him there. The dress had fallen low from her neck, 
 and in the meek, spiritual light of the moon, the soft, wave- 
 like heave of the scarce living principle within her bosom was 
 like that of some blessed thing, susceptible of death, yet, at the 
 same time, strong in the possession of the most exquisite develop- 
 ments of life. Her long tresses hung about her neck, relieving, 
 but not concealing, its snowy whiteness. One arm fell over the 
 bide of the couch, nerveless, but soft and snowy as the frostwreath 
 lifted by the capricious wind. The other lay pressed upon her 
 bosom above her heart, as if restraining those trying apprehensions 
 which had formed so large a portion of her prayers when she laid
 
 352 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 herself down to sleep. It was a picture for any eye but that of the 
 ravage a picture softening any mood but that of the habitual 
 murderer. It worked no change in the ferocious soul of Ishiagaska. 
 Me looked, but without emotion. Kor Was he long disposed to 
 hesitate. Assisting another of the Indians into the apartment, 
 who passed at once through it into the hall adjoining, the door of 
 which he was to unbar for the rest, Lshiagaska now approached 
 the couch, and drawing his knife from the sheath, the broad blade 
 was uplifted, shining bright in the moonbeams, and the inflexible 
 point bore down upon that sweet, white round, in which all was 
 loveliness, and where Was all of life; the fair bosom, the pure 
 heart, where the sacred principles of purity and of vitality had at 
 once their abiding place. With one hand he lifted aside the long 
 white finger that lay Upon it, and in the next instant the blow 
 would have descended fatally, but that the maiden's sleep was less 
 sound than it appeared. His footsteps had not disturbed her, but 
 his. touch did. The pressure of his grasp brought instant con- 
 sciousness to her sense. This may have been assisted also by the 
 glare of the moon across her eyes ; the window, opened by the 
 red man, remaining still wide. Turning uneasily beneath the 
 glare, she felt the savage gripe upon her fingers. It was an instinct, 
 swift as the lightning, that made her grasp the uplifted arm with a 
 strength of despairing nature, not certainly her own. She started 
 with a shriek, and the change of position accompanying her move- 
 ment, and the unlooked-for direction and restraint given to his 
 arm, when, in that nervous grasp, she seized it, partially diverted 
 the down-descending weapon of death. It grazed slightly aside, 
 inflicting a wound, of which, at that moment, she was perfectly 
 unconscious. Again she cried out with a convulsive scream, as she 
 saw him transfer the knife from the one to the other hand. For 
 a few seconds her struggles were all-powerful, and kept back, for 
 that period of time, the fate which had been so certain. But what 
 could the frail spirit, the soft hand, the uuexercised muscles avail or 
 achieve against such an enemy and in such a contest ? With 
 another scream, as of one in a last agony, consciousness went from 
 her in the conviction of the perfect fruitlessness of the contest 
 With a single apostrophe r
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 353 
 
 " God be merciful oh ! my father oh ! Gabriel, save me 
 Gabriel Ah ! God, God he cannot " her eye closed, and she 
 lay supine under the knife of the savage. 
 
 But the first scream which she uttered had reached the eare of 
 her father, who had been more sleepless than herself. The scream 
 of his child had been sufficient to give renewed activity and life to 
 the limbs of the aged pastor. Starting from his couch, and seizing 
 upon a massive club which stood in the corner of his chamber, he 
 rushed desperately into the apartment of Bess, and happily in time. 
 H ^r own resistance had been sufficient to give pause for this new 
 succour, and it ceased just when the old man, now made conscious 
 of the danger, cried aloud in the spirit of his faith, while striking 
 a blow which, effectually diverting Ishiagaska from the maiden, 
 compelled him to defend himself. 
 
 " Strike with me, Father of Mercies," cried the old Puritan 
 "strike with thy servant thou who struck with David and with 
 Gideon, and who swept thy waters against Pharaoh strike with 
 the arm of thy poor instrument. Make the savage to bite the 
 dust, while I strike I slay in thy name, Oh ! thou avenger even 
 in the name of the Great Jehovah !" 
 
 And calling aloud in some such apostrophe upon the name of 
 the Deity at every effort which he made with his club, the old 
 pastor gained a temporary advantage over the savage, who, retreat- 
 ing from his first furious assault to the opposite side of the couch, 
 enabled him to place himself alongside of his child. Without giv- 
 ing himself a moment even to her restoration, with a paroxysm of 
 fury tha* really seemed from heaven, he advanced upon his enemy 
 the club swinging over his head with an exhibition of strength 
 that was remarkable in so old a man. Ishiagaska, pressed tliu>. 
 unwilling with his knife to venture within its reach, had recoursu 
 to his tomahawk, which, hurriedly, he threw at the head of his ap- 
 proaching ^^ssailant. But the aim was wide the deadly weapon 
 flew into the opposite wall, and the blow of the club rang upon the 
 head of the Indian with sufficient effect, first to stagger, and then 
 to bring him down. This done, the old man rushed to the window 
 where two other savages were labouring to elevate a third to the 
 entrance ; and, with another sweep of his mace, he defeated theii
 
 354 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 design,' by crushing down the elevated person whose head and 
 hands wire just above the sill of the window. In their first con- 
 fusion, be closed the shutter, and securely bolted it, then turned, 
 with all the aroused affections of a father, to the restoration of his 
 child. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Indian who had undertaken to unclose the main 
 entrance for his companions, ignorant of the sleeping negro before 
 it, stumbled over him. July, who, like most negroes suddenly 
 awaking, was stupid and confused, rose, however, with a sort of 
 instinct; rubbing his eyes with the fingers of one hand, he stretched 
 out the other to the bar, and, without being at all conscious of what 
 he was doing, lifted it from its socket. He was soon brought to a 
 sense of his error, as a troop of half-naked savages rushed through 
 the opening, pushing him aside with a degree of violence which soon 
 taught him his danger. He knew now that thev were enemies ; 
 and, with the uplifted bar still in his hand, he felled the foremost of 
 those around him who happened to be the fellow who first 
 stumbled over him and rushed bravely enough among the rest. 
 But the weapon he made use of was an unwieldy one, and not 
 at all calculated for such a contest. He was soon taught to dis- 
 cover this, fatally, when it swung uselessly around, and was put aside 
 by one of the more wily savages, who, adroitly closing in with 
 the courageous negro, soon brought him to the ground. In falling, 
 however, he contrived to grapple with his more powerful enemy, 
 and the two went down in a close embrace together. But the hatchet 
 was in the hand of the Indian, and a moment after his fall it crushed 
 into the skull of the negro. Another and another blow followed, and 
 Boon ended the struggle. While the pulse was still quivering in 
 his heart, and ere his eyes had yet closed in the swimming con- 
 vulsions of death, the negro felt the sharp blade of the knife sweep- 
 ing around his head. The conqueror was about to complete his 
 triumph by taking off the scalp of his victim, " as ye peel the fig 
 when the fruit is fresh," when a light, borne by the half-dressed 
 wife of the pastor, appeared at the door. She gave new terrors, 
 by her screams, to the scene of blood and strife going on in 
 f he hall, At the same moment, followed by his daughter, who 
 vainly entreated him to remain in the chamber, the pastor rushed
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 356 
 
 headlong forward, wielding the club, so successful already against 
 one set of enemies, in contest with another. 
 
 " Go not, father go not," she cried earnestly, now fully restor- 
 ed to the acutest consciousness, and clinging to him passionately 
 all the while. 
 
 " Go not, John, I pray you " implored the old lady, endea- 
 vouring to arrest him. But his impulse, under all circumstances 
 was the wisest policy. He could not hope for safety by hugging 
 his chamber, and a bold struggle to the last a fearless heart, 
 ready hand, and teeth clenched with a fixed purpose exhibit a 
 proper reason when dealing with the avowed enemy. A furious 
 inspiration seemed to fill his heart as he went forward, crying 
 aloud 
 
 " I fear not. The buckler of Jehovah is over his servant. I go 
 under the banner I fight in the service of God. Keep me not 
 back, woman has he not said shall I misbelieve he will pro- 
 tect his servant. He will strike with the shepherd, and the wolf 
 shall be smitten from the fold. Avoid thee, savage unloose thee 
 from thy prey. The sword of the Lord and of Gideon !" 
 
 Thus saying, he rushed like one inspired upon the savage whose 
 knife had already swept around the head of the negro. The scalp- 
 ing of July's head was a more difficult matter than the Indian had 
 dreamed of, fighting in the dark. It was only when he laid hands 
 upon it that he found the difficulty of taking a secure hold. There- 
 was no war-tuft to seize upon, and the wool had been recently 
 abridged by the judicious scissors. He had, accordingly, literally 
 to peel away the scalp with the flesh itself. The pastor interposed 
 just after he had begun the operation. 
 
 " Avoid thee, thou bloody Philistine give up thy prey. The 
 vengeance of the God of Jacob is upon thee. In his name I strike, 
 I slay." 
 
 As he shouted he struck a headlong, a heavy blow, which, could 
 it have taken effect, would most probably have been fatal. But the 
 pastor knew nothing of the arts of war, and though on his knees 
 over the negro, and almost under the feet of his new assailant, the 
 Indian was too " cunning of fence," too well practised in strategy, 
 to be overcome in this simple manner. With a single jerk which
 
 356 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 completed his labour, he tore the reeking scalp from the head of the 
 negro, and dropping his own at the same instant on a level with the. 
 floor, the stroke of the pastor went clean over it ; and the assailant 
 himself, borne forward incontinently by the ill-advised effort, was 
 hurried stunningly against the wall of the apartment, and in the 
 thick of his enemies. In a moment they had him down the club 
 wrested from his hands, and exhaustion necessarily following such 
 prodigious and unaccustomed efforts in so old a man, he now lay 
 without strength or struggle under the knives of his captors. 
 
 As she beheld the condition of her father, all fear, all stupor, 
 passed away instantly from the mind of Bess Matthews. She 
 rushed forward she threw herself between the red men and their 
 victim, and entreated their knives to her heart rather than to his. 
 Clasping the legs of the warrior immediately bestriding the body 
 of the old man, with all a woman's and a daughter's eloquence she 
 prayed for pity. But she spoke to unwilling ears, and to senses 
 that, scorning any such appeals in their own cases, looked upon 
 them with sovereign contempt when made by others. She saw 
 this in the grim smile with which he heard her apostrophes. His 
 white teeth, gleaming out between the dusky lips which enclosed 
 them, looked to her fears like those of the hungry tiger, gnashing 
 with delight at the banquet of blood at last spread before it. 
 While yet she spoke, his hand tore away from her hair a long and 
 glittering ornament which had confined it another tore from her 
 neck the clustering necklace which could not adorn it ; and the 
 vain fancies of the savage immediately appropriated them as deco- 
 rations for his own person her own head-ornament being stuck 
 most fantastically in the long, single tuft of hair the war-tuft, and 
 all that is left at that period of him who had seized it. She saw 
 how much pleasure the bauble imparted, and a new suggestion of 
 her thought gave her a momentary hope. 
 
 " Spare him spare his life, and thou shalt have more thou 
 shalt have beads and rings. Look look," and the jewelled ring 
 from her finger, and another, a sacred pledge from Harrison, were 
 given into his grasp. He seized them with avidity. 
 
 " Good good more !" cried the ferocious but frivolous savage, 
 in the few words of broken English which he imperfectly uttered
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 357 
 
 in reply to hers, and which he well understood ; for such had beer, 
 i he degree of intimacy existing between the Yemassees and the 
 settlers, that but few of the former were entirely ignorant of some 
 portions of the language of the latter. -So far, something had been 
 o-ained in pleasing her enemy. She rushed to the chamber, and 
 hurried forth with a little casket, containing a locket, and sundry 
 other trifles commonly found in a lady's cabinet. Her mother, in 
 the meanwhile, having arranged her dress, hurriedly came forth 
 also, provided, in like manner, with all such jewels as seemed most 
 ^alculnted to win the mercy which they sought. They gave all 
 in*o his hands, and, possibly, bad he been alone, these concessions 
 vould have saved them, their lives at least ; for these now the 
 spoils of the individual savage to whom they were given had they 
 been found in the sack of the house, must have been common 
 stock with all of them. But the rest of the band were not disposed 
 for mercy when they bo^eld such an appropriation of their plunder, 
 uid while they were heading with the savage for the life of the 
 pastor, Ishiagaska, recovered from the blow which had stunned 
 aim, entering the apartment, immediately changed the prospects of 
 ill the party. JTe was inflamed to double ferocity by the stout 
 lefence which b.ad been offered where he had been taught to 
 inticipate so 'i*tle ; and, with a fierce cry, seizing Bess by the lon<>; 
 hair, which, r rom the loss of her comb, now streamed over her 
 shoulder?, V, waved the tomahawk in air, bidding his men follow 
 liis example and do execution upon the rest. Another savage, with the 
 word, seized upon the old lady. These sights re-aroused the pastor. 
 With a desperate effort he threw the knee of his enemy from his 
 1-ivast, and was about to rise, when the stroke of a stick from one 
 of the captors descended stunningly, but not fatally, and sent him 
 one*' more to the ground. 
 
 " Father father ! God of mercy look, mother ! they .lave 
 slain him they have slain my father !" and she wildly struggled 
 with her captor, but without avail. There was but a moment now, 
 and she saw the hatchet descending. That moment was foi 
 prayer, but the terror was too great; for as she beheld the whirling 
 arm and the wave of the glittering steel, she closed her eyes, anc.
 
 358 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 insensibility came to her relief, while she sank down under the 
 feet of the savage a simultaneous movement of the Indians placing 
 both of her parents at the same moment in anticipation of the same 
 awful destinv that threatened her.
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 ' Captiyet, at midnight, whither lead you Um, 
 Heedless of tears and pity, all unmoved 
 At their poor heart*' distress ? Yet, spare their lire*." 
 
 THE blow was stayed the death, deemed inevitable, was averted 
 the captives lived. The descending arm was arrested, the weapot 
 thrown aside, and a voice of authority, at the most interesting junc- 
 ture in the lives of the prisoners, interposed for their safety. The 
 new comer was Chorley, the captain of the pirate, heading his troop 
 of marines, and a small additional force of Indians. He was quite 
 as much rejoiced as the captives, that he came in time for their relief. 
 It was not his policy, in the house of the pastor, to appear the man 
 of blood, or to destroy, though mercilessly destructive wherever he 
 appeared before. There were in the present instance many reasons 
 to restrain him. The feeling of " auld lang syne " alone might have 
 had its effect upon his mood ; and, though not sufficiently potent, 
 perhaps, for purposes of pity in a bosom otherwise so pitiless, yet, 
 strengthened by a passion for the person of Bess Matthews, it availed 
 happily to save the little family of the pastor. Their safety, indeed, 
 had been his object ; and he had hurried towards their dwelling with 
 the first signal of war, as he well knew the dangers to which they 
 would be exposed, should he not arrive in season, from the indiscri- 
 minate fury of the savages. But the circuitous route which he had 
 been compelled to take, together with the difficulties of the forest to 
 sailors, to whom a march through the tangled woods was something 
 unusual, left him considerably behind the party led on by Ishiagaska 
 Arriving in time to save, however, Chorley was not displeased that 
 he had been delayed so long. There was a merit in his appearance 
 at a moment so perilous, which promised him advantages he had not 
 contemplated before. He could now urge a claim to the gratitude 
 of the maiden, for her own and the safety of her parents, upon which 
 he built strongly his deshv to s-nuv her person, if not her heart.
 
 360 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 This, at least, under all circumstances, he had certainly determined 
 upon. 
 
 He came at the last moment, but he came in time. He was well 
 fitted for such a moment, for he was bold and decisive. With mus- 
 cles of iron he grasped the arm of the savage, and thrust him back 
 from his more delicate victim, while, with a voice of thunder, sus- 
 tained admirably by the close proximity of the muskets borne by the 
 marines, he commanded the savages to yield their prisoners. A 
 Npear-thrust from one of his men enforced the command, which was 
 otherwise disregarded in the case of the Indian bestriding Mr. Mat- 
 thews, and the old pastor stood once more erect. But Ishiagaska, 
 the first surprise being over, was not so disposed to yield his cap- 
 tives. 
 
 " Will the white brother take the scalps from Ishiagaska? Where 
 was the white brother when Ishiagaska was here ? He was on the 
 blind path in the woods I heard him cry like the lost child for the 
 scouts of Ishiagaska. It was Ishiagaska who crept into the wigwam 
 of the white prophet look ! The white prophet can strike the 
 mark of his club is on the head of a great chief but not to slay. 
 Ishiagaska has won the English they are the slaves of the Yemas- 
 see he can take their scalps he can drink their blood he can 
 tear out their hearts!" 
 
 " I'll be d d if he does, though, while I am here. Fear not, 
 Matthews, old boy and you, my beauty bird have no fear. You 
 are all safe he takes my life before he puts hands on you, by San- 
 tiago, as the Spaniards swear. Hark ye, Ishiagaska do you under- 
 stand what I say ?" 
 
 " The Yemassee has ears for his brother let him speak," replied 
 the chief, sullenly. 
 
 "That means that you understand me, I suppose though it 
 doesn't say so exactly. Well, then listen. I'll take care of these 
 prisoners, and account for them to the Governor of Saint Augustine." 
 
 " The white prophet and the women are for Ishiagaska. Lot our 
 brother take his own scalps. Ishiagaska strikes not for the Spaniard 
 he is a warrior of Yemassee." 
 
 " Well, then, I will account to your people for them, but they are 
 my pri-oners now."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 361 
 
 " Is not Ishiagaska a chief of the Yemassee shall the stranger 
 speak for him to his people? Our white brother is like a cunning 
 bird that is lazy. He looks out from the tree all day, and when 
 the other bird catches the green fly, he steals it out of his teeth. 
 Ishiagaska catches no fly for the teeth of the stranger." 
 
 " Well, as you please ; but, by G d, you may give them up 
 civilly or not ! They are mine now, and you may better yourself as 
 you can." 
 
 The brow of the Indian, stormy enough before, put on new terrors, 
 and without a word he rushed fiercely at the throat of the sailor, 
 driving forward one hand for that purpose, while the other aimed a 
 blow at his head with his hatchet. But the sailor was sufficiently 
 familiar with Indian warfare, as well as with most other kinds ; he 
 was good at all weapons, as we may suppose, and was not unpre- 
 pared, lie seemed to have anticipated resistance to his authority, 
 and was ready for the assault. His promptness in defence was quit- 
 equal to the suddenness of the attack of Ishiagaska. Adroitly 
 evading the direct assault, he bore back the erring weapon with a 
 stroke that sent it wide from the owner's hand, and grasping him by 
 the throat, waved him to and fro as an infant in the grasp of a giant. 
 The followers of the chief, not discouraged by this evidence of supe- 
 riority, or by the greater number of seamen with their white ally, 
 rushed forward to his rescue, and the probability is that the affair 
 would have been one of mixed massacre but for the coolness of 
 Chorley. 
 
 " Men each his man ! Short work, as I order. Drop muskets, 
 ;uid close handsomely." 
 
 The order was obeyed with promptitude, and the Indians were 
 belted in, as by a hoop of iron, without room to lift a hatci**, or 
 brandish a knife, while each of the whites had singled out an enemy, 
 ai whose breast a pistol was presented. The sailor captain la the 
 meanwhile appropriated Ishiagaska to himself, and closely encircled 
 him with one powerful arm, while the muzzle of his pistol rested 
 upon the Indian's head. But 'the affair was suffered to proceed no 
 further, in this way, by him who had now the chief management. 
 The Indians were awed, and though they still held out a suL<jn atti- 
 tude of defiance, Chorley, whose desire was that control of the 
 16
 
 362 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 savages without which he could hope to do nothing, was satisfied of 
 the adequacy of what he had done towards his object. Releasing 
 his own captive, therefore, with a stentorian laugh, he addressed 
 
 " That's the way, chief, to deal with the enemy. But we are no 
 enemies of yours, and have had fun enough." 
 
 " It is fun for our white brother," was the stern and dry response. 
 
 " Ay, what else devilish good fun, I say though, to be sure, 
 you did not seem to think so. But I suppose I am to have the 
 prisoners." 
 
 " If our brother asks with his tongue, we say no if he asks 
 with his teeth, we say yes." 
 
 " Well, I care not, d n my splinters, Ishy whether you an- 
 swer to tongue or teeth, so that you answer as I want you. I'm 
 glad now that you speak what is reasonable." 
 
 " Will our brother take the white prophet and the women, and 
 give nothing to the Yemassee ? The English buy from the Yemas- 
 see, and the Yemassee gets when he gives." 
 
 "Ay, I see you have learned to trade, and know how to drive 
 a bargain. But you forget, chief, you have had all in the house." 
 
 "Good and the prisoners they are scalps for Ishiagaska. But 
 our brother would have them for himself, and will give his small 
 gun for them." 
 
 The offer to exchange the captives for the pistol in his hand, 
 caused a momentary hesitation in the mind of the pirate. He saw 
 the lurking malignity in the eye of the savage, and gazed fixedly 
 upon him, then, suddenly seeming to determine, he exclaimed, 
 
 " Well, it's a bargain. The captives are mine, and here's the 
 pistol." 
 
 Scarcely had the weapon been placed in the hands of the wily 
 savage, than he hastily thrust it at the head of the pirate, and 
 crying aloud to his followers, who echoed it lustily, " Sangarrah-rne 
 Yemassee," he drew the trigger. A loud laugh from Chorley 
 was all the response that followed. He had seen enough of the 
 Indian character to have anticipated the esult of the exchange just 
 made, and gave him a pistol therefore which had a little before 
 been discharged. The innocuous effort upon his life accordingly,
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 363 
 
 had been looked for ; and having made it, the Indian, whose prido 
 of character had been deeply mortified by the indignity to which 
 the sport of Chorley had just subjected him, folded his arms pa- 
 tiently as if in waiting for his death. This must have followed 
 but for the ready and contemptuous laugh of the pirate ; for 
 his seamen, provoked to fury by the attempt, would otherwise un- 
 doubtedly have cut them all in pieces. The ready laugh, however 
 so unlooked-for so seemingly out of place kept them still ; 
 and, as much surprised as the Indians, they remained as stationary 
 also. A slap upon the shoulder from the heavy hand of the sea- 
 man aroused Ishiagaska with a start. 
 
 " How now, my red brother didst thou think I could be killed 
 by such as thee ? Go to thou art a child a little boy. The 
 shot can't touch me the sword can't cut the knife can't stick 
 I have a charm from the prophet of the Spaniards. I bought it 
 and a good wind, with a link of this blessed chain, and have had 
 no reason to repent my bargain. Those are the priests, friend Mat- 
 thews now you don't pretend to such a trade. What good can 
 your preaching do to sailors or soldiers, when we can get such 
 bargains for so little ? " 
 
 The pastor, employed hitherto in sustaining the form of his still 
 but half-conscious daughter, had been a silent spectator of this 
 strange scene. But he now, finding as long as it lasted that the 
 nerves of Bess would continue unstrung, seized the opportunity 
 afforded by this appeal, to implore that they might be relieved of 
 their savage company. 
 
 " What, and you continue here ?" replied the sailor. " No, no 
 that's impossible. They would murder you the moment I am 
 gone." 
 
 " What then are we to do where go where find safety ?" 
 
 " You must go with me with my party alone will you be safe, 
 and while on shore you must remain with us. After that, my 
 vessel will give you shelter." 
 
 " Never never dear father, tell him no better that we should 
 die by the savage," was the whispered and hurried language of Bess 
 to her father as she heard this suggestion. A portion of her speech, 
 only, was audible to the seaman.
 
 364 THE YEMA3SEE. 
 
 " What's that you say, my sweet bird of beauty my bird of 
 paradise ? Speak out, there is no danger." 
 
 " She only speaks to me, captain," said the pastor, unwilling that 
 the only protector they now had should be offended by an indis- 
 creet remark. 
 
 " Oh, father, that you had listened to Gabriel," murmured the 
 maiden, as she beheld the preparations making for their departure 
 with the soldiers. 
 
 " Reproach me not now, my child my heart is sore enough for 
 that error of my spirit. It was a wicked pride that kept me from 
 hearing and doing justice to that friendly youth." 
 
 The kind word, in reference to her lover, almost banished all 
 present fears from the mind of Bess Matthews ; and with tears 
 that now relieved her, and which before this she could not have 
 shed, she buried her head in the bosom of the old man. 
 
 " We are friends again, Ishiagaska," extending his hand while 
 he spoke, was the address of the seaman to the chief, as the latter 
 took his departure from the dwelling on his way to the Block 
 House. The proffered hand was scornfully rejected. 
 
 " Is Ishiagaska a dog that shall come when you whistle, and put 
 his tail between his legs when you storm ? The white chief has 
 put mud on the head of Ishiagaska." 
 
 " Well, go and be d d, who cares ? By G d, but for the 
 
 bargain, and that the fellow may be useful, I could send a bullet 
 through his red skin with appetite." 
 
 A few words now addressed to his captives, sufficed to instruct 
 them as to the necessity of a present movement; and a few mo- 
 ments put them in as great a state of readiness for their departure 
 as, under such circumstances, they could be expected to make. 
 The sailor, in the meantime, gave due directions to his followers ; 
 and, picking up the pistol which the indignant Ishiagaska had 
 thrown away, he contented himself, while reloading it, with another 
 boisterous laugh at the expense of the savage. Giving the neces- 
 sary orders to his men, he approached the group, and tendered his 
 assistance, especially to Bess Matthews. But she shrank back with 
 an appearance of horror, not surely justifiable, if reference is to be 
 had only to his agency on the present occasion. But the instinc
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 365 
 
 tive delicacy of maidenly feeling had been more than once out- 
 raged in her bosom by the bold, licentious glance which Chorley 
 had so frequently cast upon her charms ; and now, heightened as 
 they were by circumstances by the dishevelled hair, and ill- 
 adjusted garments the daring look of his eye was enough to 
 ofl'end a spirit so delicately just, so sensitive, and so si^ceptible as 
 hers. 
 
 " What, too much of a lady too proud, miss, to take the arm 
 of a sailor ? Is it so, parson 1 Have you taught so much pride 
 to your daughter ?" 
 
 " It is not pride, Master Chorley, you should know but Bess 
 has not well got over her fright, and it's but natural that she 
 should look to her father first for protection. It's not pride, not 
 dislike, believe me," was the anxiously-spoken reply. 
 
 " But there's no sense in that now for what sort of protection 
 could you have afforded her if I hadn't come 1 You'd ha' been 
 all scalped to de'ith, or there's no fish in the sea !" 
 
 " You say true, indeed, Master Chorley. Our only hope was 
 in God, who is above all, to him we look he will always find a 
 protector for the innocent." 
 
 " And not much from him either, friend Matthews for all your 
 prayers would have done you little good under the knife of the red- 
 skins, if I had not come at the very moment." 
 
 u True and you see, captain, that God did send us help at the 
 last trying moment." 
 
 " Why, that's more than my mother ever said for me, parson 
 and more than I can ever say for myself. What, Dick Chorley 
 the messenger of God ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! The old folks would say 
 the devil rather, whose messenger I have been from stem to stern, 
 man and boy, a matter now but it's quite too far to go back." 
 
 " Do not, I pray, Master Chorley," said the old man, gravely 
 " and know, that Satan himself is God's messenger, and must do 
 his bidding in spite of his own will." 
 
 " The deuse, you say. Old Nick, himself, God's messenger ! 
 Well, that's new to me, and what the Catechism and old Meg 
 never once taught me to believe. But I won't doubt you, for, as it's 
 your trade, you ought to know best, anl we'll have no more tall-
 
 366 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 on the i*ibj-t. Come, old boy my good Mrs. Matthews, and 
 you, my swe^t all ready ? Fall in, boys be moving." 
 
 " Where p o we now, Master Chorley ?" inquired the pastor. 
 
 " With me, friend Matthews," was the simple and rather stern 
 reply' of the pirate, who arranged his troop around the little party, 
 and gave orders to move. He would have taken his place along- 
 side of the maiden, but sfee studiously passed to the opposite arm of 
 her father, so as to throw the pastor's person between them. In 
 this manner the party moved on, in the direction of the Block 
 House, which the cupidity of Chorley hoped to find unguarded, and 
 to which he hurried, with as much rapidity as possible, in order to 
 be present at the sack. He felt that it must be full of the valua- 
 bles of all those who had sought its shelter, and with this desire he 
 did not scruple to compel the captives to keep pace with his party, 
 as it was necessary, before proceeding to the assault, that lie 
 should place them in a condition of comparative safety. A small 
 cottage lay on the banks of the river, a few miles from his vessel, 
 and in sight of it. It was a rude frame of poles, covered with pine 
 bark ; such as the Indian hunters leave behind them all over the 
 country. To this spot he hurried, and there, under the charge of 
 three marines, well armed, he left the jaded family, dreading every 
 change of condition as full of death, if not of other terrors even 
 worse than death and with scarcely a smaller apprehension of 
 that condition itself. Having so done, he went onward to the 
 vork of destruction, where we shall again come up with him.
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 " b all prepared all ready for they oomo, 
 I hear them in that strange cry through the wood " 
 
 THE inmates of the Block House, as we remember, had b<:en 
 warned by Hector of the probable approach of danger, and prepa- 
 ration was the word in consequence. But what was the prepara- 
 tion meant? Under no distinct command, every one had his own 
 favourite idea of defence, and all was confusion in their councils. 
 TJie absence of Harrison, to whose direction all parties would most 
 willingly have turned their ears, was now of the most injurious 
 tendency, as it left them unprovided with any head, and just at 
 the moment when a high degree of excitement prevailed against 
 the choice of any substitute. Great bustle and little execution 
 took the place of good order, calm opinion, deliberate and decided 
 action. The men were ready enough to fight, and this readiness was 
 an evil of itself, circumstanced as they were. To fight would have 
 been madness then to protract the issue and gain time was the 
 object; and few, among the defenders of the fortress, at that mo- 
 ment, were sufficiently collected to see this truth. In reason, there 
 wa* really but a single spirit in the Block House, sufficiently deli- 
 berate for the occasion. That spirit was a woman's the wife of 
 Granger. She had been the child of poverty and privation the 
 severe school of that best tutor, necessity, had made her equable 
 in mind and intrepid in spirit. She had looked suffering so long 
 in the face, that she now regarded it without a tear. Her parents 
 had never been known to her, and the most trying difficulties clung 
 to her from infancy up to womanhood. So exercised, her mind 
 grew strong in proportion to its trials, and she had learned, in the 
 end, to regard them with a degree of fearlessness far beyond the 
 capacities of any well-bred heir of prosperity and favouring fortune, 
 The same trials attended her after marriage since the pursuits of
 
 db8 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 her husband carried her into dangers, to whieh even he could oppose 
 far less ability than his wife. Her genius soared infinitely beyond 
 his own, and to her teachings was he indebted for many of those 
 successes which brought him wealth in after years. She counsel- 
 led his enterprises, prompted or persuaded his proceedings, managed 
 for him wisely and economically; in ail respects, proved herself un- 
 selfish ; and, if she did not at any time appear above the way of 
 life they had adopted, she took caie to maintain both of them from 
 falling beneath it a result too often following the exclusive pursuit 
 of gain. Her experience throughout life, hitherto, served her ad- 
 mirably now, when all was confusion among the councils of the 
 men. She descended to the court below, where they made a show 
 of deliberation, and, in her own manner, with a just knowledge of 
 human nature, proceeded to give her aid in their general progress. 
 Knowing that any direct suggestion from a woman, and under 
 circumstances of strife and trial, would necessarily offend the 
 amour propre of the nobler animal, and provoke his derision, she 
 pursued a sort of management which an experienced woman is 
 usually found to employ as a kind of familiar a wily little demon, 
 that goes unseen at her bidding, and does her business, like another 
 Ariel, the world all the while knowing nothing about it. Calling 
 out from the crowd one of those whom she knew to be not only the 
 most collected, but the one least annoyed by any unnecessary self- 
 esteem, she was in a moment joined by Wat Grayson, and leading 
 him aside, she proceeded to suggest various measures of prepara- 
 tion and defence, certainly the most prudent that had yet been 
 made. This she did with so much unobtrusive modesty, that the 
 worthy woodman took it for granted, all the while, that the ideas 
 were properly his own. She concluded with insisting upon his 
 taking the command. 
 
 " But Nichols will have it all to himself. That's one of our dif- 
 ficulties now." 
 
 " What of that ? You may easily manage him, Master Grayson." 
 
 " How ?" he asked. 
 
 " The greater number of the men here are of the ' Green 
 Jackets V " 
 
 " Yes"
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 369 
 
 " And you are their lieutenant next in command to Capta 
 Harrison, and their first officer in his absence ?" 
 
 " That's true." 
 
 " Command them as your troop exclusively, and don't mii 
 the rest." 
 
 " But they will be offended." 
 
 " And if they are, Master Grayson, is this a time to heed theii 
 folly when the enemy's upon us ? Let them. You do with yoxxf 
 troop without heed to them, and they will fall into your ranks 
 they will work with you when the time comes." 
 
 " You are right," was the reply ; and immediately going forward 
 with a voice of authority, Grayson, calling only the "Green 
 Jackets" around him, proceeded to organize them, and put himself 
 in command, as first lieutenant of the only volunteer corps which 
 the parish knew. The corps received the annunciation with a 
 shout, and the majority readily recognized him. Nichols, alone, 
 grumbled a little, but the minority was too small to offer any 
 obstruction to Grayson's authority, so that he soon submitted with 
 the rest. The command, all circumstances considered, was not 
 improperly given. Grayson, though not overwise, was decisive in 
 action ; and, in matters of strife, wisdom itself must be subservient 
 to resolution. Resolution in trial is wisdom. The new commander 
 numbered his force, placed the feeble and the young in the least 
 trying situations, assigned different bodies to different stations, and 
 sent the women and children into the upper and most sheltered 
 apartment. In a few moments, things were arranged for the 
 approaching conflict with tolerable precision. 
 
 The force thus commanded by Grayson was small enough ; the 
 whole number of men in the Block House not exceeding twenty- 
 five. The wo MI en and children within its shelter were probably 
 twice that number. The population had been assembled in great 
 part from the entire extent of country lying between the Block 
 House and the Indian settlements. From the Block House 
 downward to Port Royal Island, there had been no gathering tc 
 this point ; the settlers in that section, necessarily, in the event of 
 a like difficulty, seeking a retreat to the fort on the island, which 
 had its garrison already, and was more secure, and in anothei 
 16*
 
 370 THE TEA A.SSEE. 
 
 respect much moie safe, as it lay more contiguous to the sea. 
 The greater portion of the country immediately endangered from 
 the Yemassees.had been duly warned, and none but the slow, the 
 indifferent, and the obstinate, but had taken sufficient heed of the 
 many warnings given them, and put themselves in safety. Num- 
 bers, however, coming under one or other of these classes, had 
 fallen victims to their folly or temerity in the sudden onslaught 
 which followed the first movement of the savages among them, 
 who, scattering themselves over the country, had made their 
 attack so nearly at the same time, as to defeat any thing like unity 
 of action in the resistance which might have been offered them. 
 
 Grayson's first care in his new command was to get the women 
 and children fairly out of the way. The close upper apartment of 
 the Block House had been especially assigned them ; and there 
 they had assembled generally. But some few of the old ladies 
 were not to be shut up ; and his own good Puritan mother gave 
 the busy commandant no little trouble. She went to and fro, 
 interfering in this, preventing that, and altogether annoying the 
 men to such a degree, that it became absolutely necessary to put 
 on a show of sternness which, in a moment of less real danger and 
 anxiety, would have been studiously forborne. With some 
 difficulty and the assistance of Granger's wife, he at length got her 
 out of the way, and to the great satisfaction of all parties, she 
 worried herself to sleep in the midst of a Psalm, which she croned 
 over to the dreariest tune in her whole collection. Sleep had also 
 fortunately seized upon the children generally, and but few, in the 
 room assigned to the women, were able to withstand the approaches 
 of that subtle magician. The wife of the trader, almost alone, 
 continued watchful ; thoughtful in emergency, and with a ready 
 degree of common sense, to contend with trial, and to prepare 
 against it. The confused cluster of sleeping forms, in all positions, 
 and of all sorts and sizes, that hour, in the apartment so occupied, 
 was grotesque enough. One figure alone, sitting in the midst, and 
 musing with a concentrated mind, gave dignity to the ludicrous 
 grouping the majestic figure of Mary Granger her dark eye 
 fixed upon the silent and sleeping collection, in doubt and pity 
 her black hair bound closely upon her head, and her broad fore-
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 371 
 
 head seeming to enlarge and grow with the busy thought at work 
 within it. Her hand, too strange association rested upon a 
 hatchet 
 
 Having completed his arrangements with respect to the security 
 of the women and children, and put them fairly out of his way, 
 Grayson proceeded to call a sort of council of war for further 
 deliberation ; and having put sentinels along the picket, and at 
 different points of the building, the more " sage, grave men" of the 
 garrison proceeded to their further arrangements. These were 
 four in number. One of them was Dick Grimstead, the blacksmith, 
 who, in addition to a little fanning (carried on when the humour 
 took him) did the horse-shoeing and ironwork for his neighbours of 
 ten miles round, and was in no small repute among them. He 
 was something of a woodman too ; and hunting, and perhaps 
 drinking, occupied no small portion of the time which might, with 
 more profit to himself, have been given to his farm and smithy. 
 Nichols, the rival leader of Grayson, was also chosen, with the 
 view rather to his pacification than with any hope of good counsel 
 to be got out of him. Granger, the trader, made the third ; and 
 presiding somewhat as chairman, Grayson the fourth. We may 
 add that the wife of the trader, who had descended to the lower 
 apartment in the meantime, and had contrived to busy himself in 
 one corner with some of the wares of her husband, was present 
 throughout the debate. We may add, too, that, at frequent 
 periods of the deliberation, Granger found it necessary to leave the 
 consultations of the council for that of his wife. 
 
 "What are we to do?" was the general question. 
 
 "Let us send out a spy, and see what they are about," was the 
 speech of one. 
 
 "Let us discharge a few pieces, to let them know that a free 
 people are always ready for the enemy," was the sage advice of 
 Nichols, who, though a doctor, was a demagogue also ; the breed 
 being known at a very early day in our history. 
 
 "No, d n Vni," said the burly blacksmith, "don't waste, after 
 that fashion, the powder for which a buck would say thank you. 
 If we are to shoot, let's put it to the red-skins themselves. Whai 
 do you say, Master Grayson ?"
 
 872 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " I say, keep quiet, and make ready." 
 
 " Wouldn't a spy be of service ?" suggested Granger, with great 
 humility, recurring to his first proposition. 
 
 " Will you go ?" was the blunt speech of the blacksmith. " I 
 don't see any good a spy can do us." 
 
 " To see into their force." 
 
 " That won't strengthen ours. No ! I hold, Wat Grayson, to 
 my mind. We must give the dogs powder and shot when we 
 see 'em. There's no other way for here we are, and there they 
 are. They're for fight, and will have our scalps, if we are not for 
 fight too. We can't run, for there's no place to go to ; and 
 besides that, I'm not used to running, and won't try to run from 
 a red-skin. He shall chaw my bullet first." 
 
 " To be sure," roared Nichols, growing remarkably valorous. 
 * Battle, say I. Victory or death." 
 
 44 Well, Nichols, don't waste your breath now you may want 
 it before all's over " growled the smith, with a most imperturbable 
 composure of countenance, " if it's only to beg quarter." 
 
 " I beg quarter never !" cried the doctor, fiercely. 
 
 "It's agreed, then, that we are to fight is that what we are to 
 understand ?" inquired Grayson, desirous to bring the debate to a 
 close, and to hush the little acerbities going on between the doctor 
 and the smith. 
 
 " Ay, to be sure what else ?" said Grimstead. 
 
 M What say you, Granger ?" 
 
 " I say so too, sir if they attack us surely." 
 
 " And you, Nichols ?" 
 
 " Ay, fight, I say. Battle to the last drop of blood to the last 
 moment of existence. Victory or death ! that's my word." 
 
 " Blast me, Nichols what a bellows," shouted the smith. 
 
 " Mind your own bellows, Grimstead it will be the better for 
 you. Don't trouble yourself to meddle with mine you may burn 
 your fingers," retorted the demagogue, angrily. 
 
 "Why, yes, if your breath holds hot long enough," was the 
 sneering response of the smith, who seemed to enjoy the sport of 
 teasing his windy comrade. 
 
 " Come. come, men, no words," soothingly said the commander
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 378 
 
 " Let us look to the enemy. You are all agreed that we are to 
 fight ; and, to say truth, we didn't want much thinking for that ; 
 but how, is the question how are we to do the fighting ? Can 
 we send out a party for scouts can we spare the men ?" 
 
 "I think not," said the smith, soberly. "It will require all the 
 men we have, and some of the women too, to keep watch at al' 
 the loop-holes. Besides, we have not arms enough, have we ?" 
 
 " Not muskets, but other arms in abundance. What say you 
 Nichols can we send ou . scouts ?" 
 
 " Impossible ! we cannot spare them, and it will only expose 
 them to be cut up by a superior enemy. No, sir, it will be the 
 nobler spectacle to perish, like men, breast to breast. I, for one, 
 am willing to die for the people. I will not survive my country." 
 
 "Brave man !" cried the smith "but I'm not willing to die at 
 all, and therefore I would keep snug and stand 'em here. I can't 
 skulk in the bush, like Granger ; I'm quite too fat for that. 
 Though, I'm sure, if I were such a skeleton sort of fellow as 
 Nichols there, I'd volunteer as a scout, and stand the Indian arrows 
 all day." 
 
 " I won't volunteer," cried Nichols, hastily. " It will set a bad 
 example, and my absence might be fatal." 
 
 "But what if all volunteer?" inquired the smith, scornfully. 
 
 "I stand or fall with the people," responded the demagogue, 
 proudly. At that moment, a shrill scream of the whip-poor-will 
 smote upon the senses of the council. 
 
 " It is the Indians that is a favourite cry of the Yemassees," 
 said the wife of Granger. The company started to their feet, and 
 seized their weapons. As they were about to descend to the lower 
 story, the woman seized upon the arm of Grayson, and craved his 
 attendance in the adjoining apartment. He followed ; and leading 
 him to the only window in the room, without disturbing any 
 around her, she pointed out a fallen pine-tree, evidently thrown 
 down within the night, which barely rested upon the side of tne 
 log house, with all its branches, and but a few feet below the 
 aperture through which thej looked. The tree must have been 
 cut previously, and so contrived as to -fall gradually upon the 
 dwelling. It was a small one, and by resting in its descent upon
 
 374 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 other intervening trees, its approach and contact with the dwelling 
 had been unheard. This had probably taken place while the 
 garrison had been squabbling below, with all the women and 
 children listening and looking on. The apartment in which they 
 stood, and against which the tree now depended, had been made, 
 for greater security, without any loop-holes, the musketry being 
 calculated for use in that adjoining and below. The danger arising 
 from this new situation was perceptible at a glance. 
 
 " The window must be defended. Two stout men will answer. 
 But they must have muskets," spoke the woman. 
 
 " They shall have them," said Grayson, in reply to the fearless 
 and thoughtful person who spoke. " I will send Mason and your 
 husband." 
 
 " Do I will keep it till they come." 
 
 " You ?" with some surprise, inquired Grayson. 
 
 " Yes, Master Grayson is there anything strange in that ? l 
 have no fears. Go send your men." 
 
 " But vou will close the shutter." 
 
 " No better, if they should come better it should be open, 
 If shut, we might be too apt to rest satisfied. Exposure compels 
 watchfulness, and men make the best fortresses." 
 
 Full of his new command, and sufficiently impressed with its 
 importance, Grayson descended to the arrangement of his forces ; 
 and, true to. his promise, despatched Granger and Mason with 
 muskets to the defence of the window, as had been agreed upon 
 with the wife of the trader. They prepared to go up ; but, to their 
 great consternation, Mason, who was a bulky man, had scarcely 
 reached midway up the ladder leading to the apartment, when, 
 snapping off in the middle, down it came; in its destruction, 
 breaking oft' all communication between the upper and lower 
 stories of the house until it could be repaired. To furnish a 
 substitute was a difficult task, about which several of the men were 
 set immediately. This accident deeply impressed the wife of the 
 trader, even more than it did the defenders of the house below, 
 with the dangers of their situation ; and, in much anxiety, watchful 
 and sad, she paced the room in which they were now virtuallv 
 ,-ou fined, in momentary expectation of the enemy.
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 ' Toe deep woods saw their battle, and the night 
 Gave it a genial horror. Blood is there; 
 The path of battle is traced out In blood." 
 
 HUGH GKAYSON, with all his faults, and they were many, was 
 in reality a noble fellow. Full of a high ambition a craving for 
 the unknown and the vast, which spread itself vaguely and perhaps 
 uuattainably before his imagination his disappointments very natu- 
 rally vexed him somewhat beyond prudence, and now and then 
 beyond the restraint of right reason. He usually came to a know- 
 ledge of his error before it had led too far, and his repentance thei. 
 was not less ready than his wrong. So in the present instance. 
 The stern severity of those rebukes which had TUlen from the lips 
 of Bess Matthews, had the effect upon him which she had antici 
 pated. They brought out the serious determination of his manhood, 
 and, with due effort, he discarded those feeble and querulous fancies 
 which had been productive of so much annoyance to her and 
 others, and so much unhappiness to himself. He strove to forget 
 the feelings of the jealous and disappointed lover, in the lately 
 recollected duties of the man and citizen. 
 
 With the good steed of Harrison, which, in the present service, 
 he did not scruple to employ, he set off on the lower route, in order 
 to beat up recruits for the perilous strife which he now began to 
 believe, the more he thought of it, was in reality at hand. The 
 foresters were ready ; for one condition of security in border life was 
 the willingness to volunteer in defence of one another ; and a five 
 mile ride gave him as many followers. But his farther progress 
 was stopped short by an unlooked-for circumstance. The tread of 
 a body of horse reached the ears of his party, and they slunk into 
 cover. Indistinctly, in the imperfect light, they discovered a 
 mounted force of twenty or thirty men. Another survey made 
 them out to be friends.
 
 376 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Who goes there ?" cried the leader, as Grayson emerged frorr 
 the bush. 
 
 " Friends well met. There is still time," was the reply. 
 
 " I hope so I have pushed for it," said the commander, " as soon 
 as Sir Edmund gave the orders." 
 
 " Ha ! you were advised then of this, and come from " 
 
 " Beaufort," cried the officer, " with a detachment of twenty-eight 
 for the upper Block House. Is all well there ?" 
 
 "Ay, when I left, but things are thought to look squally, and I 
 have just been beating up volunteers for preparation." 
 
 "Tis well fall in, gentlemen, and good speed but this cursed 
 road is continually throwing me out. Will you undertake to guide 
 us, so that no time may be lost ?" 
 
 " Ay follow we are now seven miles from the Block, and I am 
 as familiar with the road, dark and light, as with my own hands." 
 
 " Away then, men away" and, led by the younger Grayson, 
 now fully aroused by the spirit of the scene, they hurried away at 
 full speed through the narrow trace leading to the Block House. 
 They had ridden something like two-thirds of the distance, when 
 a distant shot, then a shout, reached their ears, and compelled a 
 pause for counsel, in order to avoid rushing into ambuscade. 
 
 "A mile farther," cried Grayson "a mile farther, and we must 
 hide our horses in the woods, and take the bush on foot. Horse 
 won't do here; we shall make too good a mark ; and besides, riding 
 ourselves, we should not be able to hear the approach of an 
 enemy." 
 
 A few moments after and they descended, each fastening his 
 horse to a tree in the shelter of a little bay ; and hurriedly organiz- 
 ing under Grayson's direction, they proceeded, alive with expecta- 
 tion, in the direction of the fray. 
 
 It is high time that we now return to our fugitive, whose escape 
 from his Indian prison has already been recorded. Paddling his 
 canoe with difficulty, Harrison drew a long breath as it struck the 
 opposite bank in safety. He had escaped one danger, but how 
 many more, equally serious, had he not reason to anticipate in his 
 farther progress. He knew too well the character of Indian war 
 fare, and the mode of assault proposed by them at present, not to
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 377 
 
 feel that all the woods around him were alive with his enemies ; 
 that they ran along in the shadow of the thicket, and lay in wait- 
 ing, for the steps of the flyer, alongside of the fallen tree. He 
 knew his danger, but he had a soul well calculated for its trials. 
 
 He leapt ashore, and, at the very first step which he took, a bright 
 column of flame rose above the forests in the direction of the 
 < ira\ -sons' cottage. It lay not directly in his path, but it reminded 
 him of his duties, and he came to all the full decision marking his 
 character, as he pushed forward in that quarter. He was not 
 long in reaching it, and the. prospect realized many of his fears. 
 The Indians had left their traces, and the dwelling was wrapped in 
 flame, illuminating with a deep glare the surrounding foliage. He 
 looked for other signs of their progress, but in vain. There was no 
 blood, no mark of struggle, and his conclusion was, therefore, that 
 the family had been able to effect its escape from the dwelling be- 
 fore the arrival of the enemy. This conviction was instantaneous, 
 and he gave no idle time in surveying a scene which was only full 
 of a terrible warning. The thought of the whole frontier, and more 
 than all, to his heart, the thought of Bess Matthews, and of the ob- 
 stinate old father, drove him onward the blazing ruins lighting his 
 way some distance through the woods. The rush of the wind, as 
 he went forward, brought to his ears, at each moment, and in 
 various quarters, the whoops of the savages, reduced to faintriess by 
 distance or cross currents of the breeze, that came here and there, 
 through dense clusters of foliage. Now on one side and now on 
 the other, the sounds smote his ears, compelling him capricious! v 
 to veer from point to point in the hope of avoiding the dangeV. 
 He had not gone far when a second and sudden volume of fire 
 rushed up above the trees only a little distance from him on the 
 left, and he could hear the crackling of the timber. Almost at the 
 same instant, in an opposite direction, another burst of flame at- 
 tested the mode of warfare adopted by the cunning savages, who, 
 breaking into small parties of five or six in number, thns dispersed 
 themselves over the country, making their attacks simultaneous. 
 This was the mode of assault best adapted to their enterprise ; and, 
 but for the precautions taken in warning the more remote of the 
 borderers to the protection of the Block House, their irruption
 
 378 THF YEMASSEE. 
 
 throughout its whole progress, would have been marked in blood. 
 But few of the settlers could possibly have escaped their knives 
 Defrauded, however, of their prey, the Indians were thus compel- 
 led to wreak their fury upon the unoccupied dwellings. 
 
 Dreading to make new and more painful discoveries, but with a 
 spirit nerved for any event, Harrison kept on his course with un- 
 relaxing effort, till he came to the dwelling of an old German, an 
 lionest but poor settler, named Van Holten. The old man lay on 
 his threshold insensible. His face was prone to the ground, and 
 he was partially stripped of his clothing. Harrison turned him 
 over, and discovered a deep wound upon his breast, made seem- 
 ingly with a knife a hatchet stroke appeared upon his forehead, 
 and the scalp was gone a red and dreadfully lacerated skull pre- 
 sented itself to his sight, and marked another of those features of 
 war so terribly peculiar to the American border struggles. The 
 man was quite dead ; but the brand thrown into his cabin had 
 failed, and the dwelling was unhurt by the fire. Harrison could 
 bestow no time in mere regrets and sympathies, out hurried away, 
 under increased anxieties, and roused to new exertions and efforts 
 by a spectacle that made him tremble momently with the fear of 
 new discoveries of the same sort. The cries of the savages grew 
 more distinct as he proceeded, and his caution was necessarily re- 
 doubled. They now gathered between him and the white settle- 
 ments, and the probability of coming upon his enemies was increased 
 at every step in his progress. Apart from this, he knew but little 
 of their precise position now they were on one, and now on the 
 other side of him their whoops sounding, with the multiplied 
 echoes of the wood, in every direction, and inspiring a hesitating 
 dread, at every moment, that he should find himself suddenly 
 among them. The anxiety thus stimulated was more decidedly 
 painful than would have been the hand-to-hand encounter. It was 
 so to the fearless heart of Harrison. Still, however, he kept his 
 way, until, at length, emerging from the brush and foliage, a small 
 lake lay before him, which he knew to be not more than three 
 miles from the dwelling of Bess Matthews. He immediately pre- 
 pared to take the path he had usually pursued, to the left, which 
 carried him upon the banks of the river. At that moment his eye
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 379 
 
 caught the motion of a small body of the savages in that verj 
 quarter. One third of the whole circuit of the lake '.ay between 
 them and himself, and he now changed his course to the right, in 
 the hope to avoid them. But they had been no less watchful than 
 himself. They had seen, ami prepared to intercept him. They 
 divided for this purpose, and while, with shouts and fierce halloo-, 
 one party retraced their steps and came directly after him, another, in 
 perfect silence, advanced on their course to the opposite quarter of 
 the lake, in the hope to waylay him in .front. Of this arrangement 
 Harrison was perfectly unaware, and upon this he did not calculate. 
 Having the start considerably of those who came behind, he did 
 net feel so deeply the risk of his situation ; but, fearless and swift 
 of foot, he cheerily went forward, hoping to fall in with some of the 
 whites, or at least to shelter himself in a close cover of the woods 
 before the red men could possibly come up with him. Through 
 brake and bush, heath and water, he went forward, now running, 
 now walking, as the cries behind him of his pursuers influenced 
 his feelings. At length the circuit of the lake was made, and he 
 dashed again into the deeper forest, more secure, as he was less 
 obvious to the sight than when in the glare of the now high as- 
 cending moon. The woods thickened into copse around him, and 
 he began to feel something more of hope. He could hear more 
 distinctly the cries of war, and he now fancied that many of the 
 shouts that met his ears were those of the English. In this thought 
 he plunged forward, and as one fierce halloo went up which he 
 clearly felt to be from his friends, he could not avoid the impulse 
 which prompted him to shout forth in response. At that moment, 
 bounding over a fallen tree, he felt his course arrested. His fact 
 were caught by one who lay hid beside it, and he came heavily to 
 the ground. The Indian who had lain in ambush was soon above 
 him, and he had but time to ward with one arm a blow aimed at 
 his head, when another savage advanced upon him. These two 
 formed the detachment which had been sent forward in front, for 
 this very purpose, by the party in his rear. Th prospect was des- 
 perate, and feeling it so, the efforts of Harrison were herculean. 
 His only weapon was the knife of Matiwan, but he was a man of 
 great muscular power and exceedingly active. His faculties
 
 380 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 availed him now. With a sudden evolution, he shook one of his 
 assailants from his breast, and opposed himself to the other while 
 recovering his feet. They drove against him with their united 
 force, and one hatchet grazed his cheek. The savage who threw 
 it was borne forward by the blow, and received the knife of Har- 
 rison in his side, but not sufficiently deep to disable him. They 
 came to it again with renewed and increased ferocity, one assailing 
 him from behind, while the other employed him in front. He 
 would have gained a tree, but they watched and kept him too busily 
 exercised to allow of his design. A blow from a club for a mo- 
 ment paralysed his arm, and he dropped his kuife. Stooping to 
 recover it they pressed him to the ground, and so distributed them- 
 selves upon him, that further effort was unavailing. He saw the 
 uplifted hand, and felt that his senses swam with delirious thought 
 his eyes were hazy, and he muttered a confused language. At 
 that moment did he dream or not? it was the deep bay of his 
 own favorite hound that reached his ears. The assailants heard it 
 too he felt assured of that, as, half starting from their hold upon 
 him, they looked anxiously around. Another moment, and he had 
 no farther doubt ; the cry of thirst and anger the mixed mo.au 
 and roar of the well-known and evidently much-aroused animal, 
 was closely at hand. One of the Indians sprang immediately to 
 his feet the other was about to strike, when, with a last effort, he 
 grasped the uplifted arm and shouted " Dugdale !" aloud. Nor did 
 he shout in vain. The favorite, with a howl of delight, bounded 
 at the well-known voice, and in another instant Harrison felt the 
 long hair and thick body pass directly over his face, then a single 
 de,ep cry rang above him, and then he felt the struggle. He now 
 strove again to take part in the fray, though one arm hung nerve- 
 lessly beside him. He partially succeeded in freeing himself from 
 the mass that had weighed him down ; and looking up, saw the 
 entire mouth and chin of the Indian in the jaws of the ferocious 
 hound. The savage knew his deadliest enemy, and his struggle 
 was, not to destroy the dog, but, under the sudden panic, to free 
 himself from his hold. With this object his hatchet and knife had 
 been dropped. His hands were vainly endeavouring to loosen the 
 huge, steely jaws of his rough assailant from his own. The othei
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 881 
 
 ludiaa had fled with the first bay of the animal probably the 
 more willing to do so, as the momentary fainting of Harrison had 
 led them to suppose him beyond further opposition. But he re- 
 covered ; and, with recovering consciousness, resuming the firm 
 grasp of his knife which had fallen beside him, seconded the efforts 
 of Dugdale by driving it into the breast of their remaining enemy, 
 who fell dead, with his chin still between the teeth of the hound. 
 Staggering as much with the excitement of such a conflict, as with 
 the blow he had received, Harrison with difficulty regained his 
 feet. Dugdale held on to his prey, and before he would forego his 
 hold, completely cut the throat which he had taken in his teeth. 
 A single embrace of his master attested the deep gratitude which 
 he felt for the good service of his favorite. 
 
 But there was no time for delay. The division which pursued 
 him was at hand. He heard their shout from a neighbouring copse, 
 and he bent his steps forward. The red men were soon apprised of 
 his movement. Joined by the fugitive, and having heard his details, 
 what was their surprise to find their own warrior a victim, bloody and 
 perfectly dead upon the grass, where they had looked to have taken 
 a scalp ! Their rage knew no bounds, and they were now doubly 
 earnest in pursuit. Feeble from the late struggle, Harrison did not 
 possess his previous vigour besides, he had run far through the 
 woods, and though as hardy as any of the Indians, he was not so 
 well calculated to endure a race of this nature. But, though they 
 gained on him, he knew that he had a faithful ally at hand on whom 
 he felt that he might safely depend. The hound, trained as was the 
 custom, was formidable to the fears of the Indians. Like the ele- 
 phant of old among the Asiatics, he inspired a degree of terror 
 among the American aborigines, which, in great degree, deprived 
 them of courage and conduct ; and, had there been less inequality 
 of force, the dog of Harrison alone would have been sufficient to 
 have decided his present pursuers to choose a more guarded course, 
 if not to a complete discontinuance of pursuit. But they heard the 
 shouts of their own warriors all around them, and trusting that 
 flying from one, the White Chief, the famous Coosah-moray-tee, 
 must necessarily fall into the hands of some other party, they were 
 stimulated stiil farther in the chase.
 
 382 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 They had not miscalculated. The wild whoop of war the 
 " Sangarrah-me, Yemassee" rose directly in the path of Harrison, 
 and, wearied with flight, the fugitive prepared himself for the worst, 
 He leaned against a tree in exhaustion, while the dog took his place 
 beside him, obedient to his master's command, though impatient to 
 bound forward. Harrison kept him for a more concentrated struggle, 
 and wreathing his hands in the thick collar about his neck, he held 
 him back for individtial assailants. In the meantime his pursuers 
 approached, though with caution. His dog was concealed by the 
 brush, on the skirts of which he had studiously placed him. They 
 heard at intervals his long, deep bay, and it had an effect upon them 
 not unlike that of their own war-whoop upon the whites. They 
 paused, as if in council. Just then, their > party in front set up 
 another shout, and the confusion of a skirmish was evident to the 
 senses as well of Harrison as of his pursuers. This to him was a 
 favourable sign. It indicated the presence of friends. He heard 
 at length one shot, then another, and another, and at the same time 
 the huzzas of the Carolinians. These inspired him with new cou- 
 rage ; and, with an impulse which is sometimes, and, in desperate 
 cases, may be almost always considered wisdom, he plunged forward 
 through the brush which separated him from the unseen comba- 
 tants, loudly cheering in the English manner, and prompting the 
 hound to set up a succession of cries, sufficiently imposing to inspire 
 panic in the savages. 
 
 His movement was the signal to move also on the part of those 
 who pursued him. But a few steps changed entirely the scene. He 
 had rushed upon the rear of a band of the Yemassees, whc. lying 
 behind brush and logs, were skirmishing at advantage with a corps 
 of foresters which we have seen led on by the younger Grayson. A 
 single glance sufficed to put Harrison in possession of the true facts 
 of the case, and, though hazarding every chance of life, he bounded 
 directly among, and through, the ambushed Indians. Never was 
 desperation more fortunate in its consequences. Not knowing the 
 cause of such a movement, the Yemassees conceived themselves 
 beset front and rear. They rose screaming from their hiding places, 
 and yielded on each side of the fugitive. With an unhesitating 
 hand he struck with his knife one of their chiefs who stood in his
 
 THE YEMASSEE. d85 
 
 path. The hound leaping among them' like a hungry panther, 
 farther stimulated the panic, and for a moment they scattered about 
 bewildered, and with a wholly purposeless action. The fierce and 
 forward advance of that portion of their own allies who had been 
 pursuing Harrison, still further contributed to impress them with 
 the idea of an enemy in the rear ; and, before they could recover, 
 so as to arrest his progress and discover the true state of things, he 
 had passed them, followed by the obedient dog. In another instant 
 almost fainting with fatigue, to the astonishment but satisfaction of 
 all, he threw himself, with a laugh of mingled triumph and exhaus 
 tion, into the ranks of his sturdy band of foresters. 
 
 Without a pause he commanded their attention. Fully conscious 
 of the confusion among the ambushers, he ordered an advance, and 
 charged resolutely through the brush. The contest was now hand 
 to hand, and the foresters took their tree when necessary, as well as 
 their enemies. The presence of their captain gave them new cou- 
 rage, and* the desperate manner in which he had charged through 
 the party with which they fought, led them to despise their foes. 
 This feeling imparted to the Carolinians a degree of recklessness, 
 which, new to them in such warfare, was not less new to the Indians. 
 Hah 1 ' frightened before, they needed but such an attack to determine 
 them to retreat. They faltered, and at length fled a few fought on 
 awhile, single handed, perhaps not knowing how completely their 
 force was scattered ; but wounded and without encouragement, they 
 too gave way, sullenly and slowly, and at length were brought up 
 with their less resolute companions in the cover of a neighbouring 
 and denser wood. 
 
 Harrison did not think it advisable to pursue them. Calling off 
 his men, therefore, he led them on the route towards the Block 
 House, which he relied upon as the chief rallying point of the 
 settlers in that quarter. His anxieties, however, at that moment, 
 had in them something selfish, and he proceeded hurriedly to the 
 house of old Matthews. It was empty its inmates were gone, and 
 the marks of savage devastation were all around them. The build 
 ing had been plundered, and a hasty attempt made to burn it by 
 torches, but without success, the floors being only slightly scorched 
 He rushed through the apartments in despair, calling the family by
 
 384 THE YEMASSLJL 
 
 name. What hau been' their fate and where was she ? The 
 silence of everything around spoke to him too loudly, and, with the 
 faintest possible hope that they had been sufficiently apprised of the 
 approach of the Indians to have taken the shelter of the Block 
 House, he proceeded to lead his men to that designated point.
 
 CHAPTER XLVL 
 
 " A sudden trial, and the danger comes 
 Noiseless and nameless." 
 
 LET us go back once more to the Block House, and look into the 
 rendition of its defenders. We remember the breaking of the 
 .adder, the only one in the possession of the garrison, which led to 
 the upper story of the building. This accident left them in an ugiy 
 predicament, since some time must necessarily be taken up in its 
 repair, and, in the meanwhile, the forces of the garrison were 
 divided in the different apartments above and below. In the section 
 devoted to the women and children, and somewhat endangered, as 
 we have seen, from the exposed window and the fallen tree, they 
 were its exclusive occupants. The opposite chamber held a few of 
 the more sturdy and common sense defenders, while in the great 
 hall below, a miscellaneous group of fifteea or twenty the inferior 
 spirits were assembled. Two or three of these were busied in 
 patching up the broken ladder, which w.*s to renew the communica- 
 tion between the several parties, thus, of necessity, thrown asunder. 
 
 The watchers of the fortress, from their several loop-holes, looked 
 forth, east and west, yet saw no enemy. All was soft in the picture, 
 all was silent in the deep repose of the forest. The night was clear 
 and lovely, and the vague and dim beauty with which, in the im- 
 perfect moonlight, the foliage of the woods spread away in distant 
 bhadows, or clung and clustered together as in groups, shrinking 
 for concealment from her glances, touched the spirits even of those 
 uide foresters. With them the poetry of the natural world is a 
 matter of feeling with the refined, it is an instrument of art. 
 Hence it is, indeed, that the poetry of the early ages speaks in the 
 simplest language, while that of civilization, becoming only the 
 agent for artificial enjoyment, is ornate in its dress, and complex in 
 its form and structure. 
 
 17
 
 386 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 The night wore on, still calm and serene in all its aspects 
 about the Block House. Far away in the distance, like glimpses 
 of a spirit, little sweeps of the river, in its crooked windings, 
 flashed upon the eye, streaking, with a sweet relief, the sombre 
 foliage of the swarnpy forest through which it stole. A single 
 note the melancholy murmur of the chuck-will's-widow 
 the Carolina whippoorwill broke fitfully upon the silence, to 
 which it gave an added solemnity. That single note indicated to 
 tle keepers of the fortress a watchfulness corresponding with their 
 own, of another living creature. ' Whether it were human or not 
 whether it were the deceptive lure and signal of the savage, or, 
 in reality, the complaining cry of the solitary and sad night-bird 
 which it so resembled, was, however, matter of nice question with 
 those who listened to the strain. 
 
 " They are there they are there ; hidden in that wood ;" 
 cried Grayson " I'll swear it. I've heard them quite too often not 
 to know their cunning now. Hector was right, after all, boys." 
 
 " What, where ?" asked Nicholas. 
 
 " There, in the bush to the left of the blasted oak now, down 
 to the bluff and now, by the bay on the right. They are all 
 round us." 
 
 " By what do you know, Wat ?" 
 
 " The whippoorwill that is their cry their signal." 
 
 " It is the whippoorwill," said Nicholas, " there is but one of 
 them ; you never hear more than one at a time." 
 
 " Pshaw !" responded Grayson, " you may hear half-a-dozen at 
 a time, as I have done a thousand times. But that is from no 
 throat of bird. It is the Indian. There is but a single note, you 
 perceive ; and it rises from three different quarters. Now it is to 
 the Chiefs Bluff and now it comes immediately from the old 
 grove of scrubby oak. A few shot there would get an answer." 
 
 " Good ! that is just my thought let us give them a broadside, 
 and disperse the scoundrels," cried Nichols. 
 
 " Not so fast, Nichols you swallow your enemy without asking 
 leave of hfo teeth. Have you inquired first whether we hav* 
 powder and shot to throw away upon bushes that may be empty ? ;1 
 now exclaimed the blacksmith, joining in the question.
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 387 
 
 u A prudent thought, that, Griuistead," said Grayson, " we have 
 uo ammunition to spare in that way. But I have a notion that 
 may prove of profit. Where is the captain's straw man here, 
 Granger, bring out Dugdale's trainer." 
 
 The stuffed figure already described was brought forward, the 
 window looking in the direction of the grove supposed to shelter 
 the savages was thrown open, and the perfectly indifferent head of 
 the automaton thrust incontinently through the opening. The ruse 
 was completely successful. The foe could not well resist this 
 temptation, and a flight of arrows, penetrating the figure in every 
 portion of its breast and face, attested the presence of the enemy 
 and the truth of his aim. A wild and shuddering cry rang 
 through the forest at the same instant ^iat cry, well known as the 
 fearful war-whoop, the sound of which made the marrow curdle in 
 the bones of the frontier settler, and prompted the mother with a 
 nameless terror to hug closer to her bosom the form of her un- 
 conscious infant. It was at once answered from side to side, 
 wherever their several parties had been stationed, and it struck 
 terror even into the sheltered garrison which heard it such terror 
 as the traveller feels by night, when the shrill rattle of the lurking 
 serpent, with that ubiquity of sound which is one of its fearful 
 features, vibrates all around him, leaving him at a loss to say in 
 what quarter his enemy lies in waiting, and teaching him to dread 
 that the very next step which he takes may place him within the 
 coil of death. 
 
 " Ay, there they are, sure enough fifty of them at least, and we 
 shall have them upon us, after this, monstrous quick, in some way 
 or other," was the speech of Grayson, while a brief silence through 
 all the party marked the deep influence upon them .of the summons 
 which they had heard. 
 
 " True and we must be up and doing," said the smith ; " we 
 can now give them a shot, Hugh Grayson, for they will dance out 
 from the cover now, thinking they have killed one of us. The 
 savages they have thrown away some of their powder at least." 
 As Grimstead spoke, he drew three arrows with no small difficulty 
 from the bosom of the figure in which they were buried. 
 
 " Better there than in our ribs. But you are right. Stand back
 
 388 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 for a moment and let me have that loop I shall waste no 
 shot. Ha ! I see there is one I see his arm and the edge of hia 
 hatchet it rests upon his shoulder, I reckon, but that is concealed 
 by the brush. He moves he comes out, and slaps his hands 
 against his thigh. The red devil, but he shall have it. Get ready, 
 now, each at his loop, for if I hurt him they will rush out in fury." 
 
 The sharp click of the cock followed the words of Grayson, who 
 was an able shot, and the next moment the full report came bur- 
 dened with a dozen echoes from the crowding woods around. A 
 cry of pain then a shout of fury and the reiterated whoop fol- 
 lowed ; and as one of their leaders reeled and sank under the un- 
 erring bullet, the band in that station, as had been predicted by 
 Grayson, rushed forth to^vhere he stood, brandishing their wea 
 pons with ineffectual fury, and lifting their wounded comrade, as 
 is their general custom, to bear him to a place of concealment, 
 and preserve him from being scalped, by secret burial, in the event 
 of his being dead. They paid for their temerity. Following the 
 direction of their leader, whose decision necessarily commanded 
 their obedience, the Carolinians took quite as much advantage of 
 the exposure of their enemies, as the number of the loop-holes in 
 that quarter of the building would admit. Five muskets told 
 among the group, and a reiterated shout of fury indicated the good 
 service which the discharge had done, and taught the savages a 
 lesson of prudence, which, in the present instance, they had been 
 too ready to disregard. They sank back into cover, taking care 
 however to remove their hurt companions, so that, save by the pe- 
 culiar cry which marks a loss among them, the garrison were una- 
 ble to determine what had been the success of their discharges. 
 Having driven them back into the brush, however, without loss to 
 themselves, the latter were now sanguine, where, only a moment 
 before, their confined and cheerless position had taught them a 
 feeling of despondency not calculated to improve the comforts of 
 their case. 
 
 The Indians had made their arrangements, on the other hand, 
 with no little precaution. But they had been deceived and disap- 
 pointed. Their scouts, who had previously inspected the fortress, 
 had given a very different account of the defences and the watch
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 389 
 
 fulness of their garrison, to what was actually the fact upon theii 
 appearance. The scouts, however, had spoken truth, and, but for 
 the discovery made hy Hector, the probability is that the Block 
 House would have been surprised with little or no difficulty. Ac- 
 tustomed to obey Harrison as their only leader, the foresters pre- 
 sent never dreamed of preparation for conflict unless under his 
 guidance. The timely advice of the trader's wife, and the con- 
 fident assumption of command . on the part of Walter Grayson, 
 completed their securities. But for this, a confusion of counsels, 
 not less than of tongues, would have neutralized all action, and left 
 them an easy prey, without head or direction, to the knives of their 
 insidious enemy. Calculating upon surprise and cunning as the 
 only means by which they could hope to balance the numerous 
 advantages possessed by European warfare over their own, the In- 
 dians had relied rather more on the suddenness of their onset, and 
 the craft peculiar to their education, than on the force of theii 
 valour. They felt themselves baffled, therefore, in their main hope, 
 by the sleepless caution of the garrison, and now prepared them- 
 selves for other means. 
 
 They made their disposition of force with no little judgment. 
 Small bodies, at equal distances, under cover, had been stationed 
 all about the fortress. With the notes of 'the whippoorwill they 
 had carried on their signals, and indicated the several stages of 
 their preparation ; while, in addition to this, another band a sort 
 of forlorn hope, consisting of the more desperate, who had various 
 motives for signalizing their valour creeping singly, from cover to 
 cover, now reposing in the shadow of a log along the ground, now 
 half buried in a clustering bush, made their way at length so 
 closp.ly-under the walls of the log house as to be completely con- 
 cealed from the garrison, which, unless by the window, had no 
 mode of looking directly down upon them. As the windows were 
 well watched by their comrades having once attained their place 
 of concealment it followed that their position remained entirely 
 concealed from those within. They lay in waiting for the favour- 
 able moment silent as the grave, and sleepless ready, when the 
 garrison should determine upon a sally, to fall upon their rear ; 
 and in the meanwhile, quietly preparing dry fuel in quantity, gath-
 
 390 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 ering it from time to time, and piling it against the logs of tin 
 fortress, they prepared thus to fire the defences that shut them 
 out from their prey. 
 
 There was yet anotl ^r mode of finding entrance, which has been 
 partially glimpsed at already. The scouts had done their office 
 diligently in more than the required respects. Finding a slender 
 pine twisted by a late storm, and scarcely sustained by a fragment 
 of its shaft, they applied fire to the rich turpentine oozing from the 
 wounded part of the tree, and carefully directing its fall, as it yielded 
 to the fire, they lodged its extremest branches, as we have already 
 seen, against the wall of the Block House and just beneath the 
 window, the only one looking from that quarter of the fortress. 
 Three of the bravest of their warriors were assigned for scaling this 
 point and securing their entrance, and the attack was forborne by 
 the rest of the band, while their present design, upon which they 
 built greatly, was in progress. 
 
 Let us then turn to this quarter. We have already seen that the 
 dangers of this position were duly estimated by Grayson, under the 
 suggestion of Granger's wife. Unhappily for its defence, the fate of 
 the ladder prevented that due attention to the subject, at once, which 
 had been imperatively called for; and the subsequent excitement 
 following the discovery- of the immediate proximity of the Indians, 
 had turned the consideration of the defenders to the opposite end 
 of the building, from whence the partial attack of the enemy, as 
 described, had come. It is true that the workmen were yet busy 
 with the ladder ; but the assault had suspended their operations, in 
 the impatient curiosity which such an event would necessarily induce, 
 even in the bosom of fear. 
 
 The wife of Grayson, fully conscious of the danger, was alone 
 sleepless in that apartment. The rest of the women, scarcely appre- 
 hensive of attack at all, and perfectly ignorant of the present condi- 
 tion of affairs, with all that heedlessness which marks the unreflect- 
 ing character, had sunk to the repose (without an effort at watchful- 
 ness) which previous fatigues had, perhaps, made absolutely una- 
 voidable. She, alone, sat thoughtful and silent musing over pre- 
 sent prospects perhaps of the past but still unforgetful of the 
 Hifficulties and the dangers before her. With a calm temper she
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 391 
 
 awaited the relief which, with the repair of tht laddtt sac looked 
 for from below. 
 
 In the meantime hearing something of the alarm, together with 
 the distant war-whoop, she had looked around her for some means 
 of defence, in the event of any attempt being made upon the win- 
 dow before the aid promised could reach her. But a solitary 
 weapon met her eye, in a long heavy hatchet, a clumsy instru 
 merit, rather more like the cleaver of a butcher than the light and 
 slender tomahawk so familiar to the Indians. Having secured this, 
 with the composure of that courage which had been in great part 
 taught her by the necessities of fortune, she prepared to do without 
 other assistance, and to forego the sentiment of dependance, which 
 is perhaps one of the most marked characteristics of her sex. 
 Calmly looking round upon the sleeping and defenceless crowd < 
 about her, she resumed her seat upon a low bench in a corner of 
 the apartment, from which she had risen to secure the hatchet, and, 
 extinguishing the only light in the room, fixed her eye upon the 
 accessible window, while every thought of her mind prepared her 
 for the danger which was at hand. She had not long been seated 
 when she fancied that she heard a slight rustling of the branches 
 of the fallen tree just beneath the window. She could not doubt 
 her senses, and her heart swelled and throbbed with the conscious- 
 ness of approaching danger. But still she was firrqj her spirit 
 grew more confirmed with the coming trial ; and, coolly throwing 
 the slippers from her feet, grasping firmly her hatchet at the same 
 time, she softly arose, and keeping close in the shadow of the wall, 
 Ae made her way to a recess, a foot or so from the entrance, to 
 which it was evident some one was cautiously approaching along 
 the attenuated body of the yielding pine. In a few moments and a 
 shadow darkened the opening. She edged more closely to the point, 
 and prepared for the intruder. She now beheld the head of the 
 enemy a fierce and foully painted savage the war-tuft rising up 
 into a ridge, something like a comb, and his face smeared with 
 colours in a style the most ferociously grotesque. Still she could 
 not strike, for, as he had not penetrated the window, and as its 
 entrance was quite too small to enable her to strike with any hope 
 . of success at anv distance through it, she felt that the effort would
 
 392 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 be wholly without certainty ; and failure might be of the worst 
 consequence. Though greatly excited, and struggling between 
 doubt and determination, she readily saw what would be the error 
 of any precipitation. But even as she mused thus apprehensively, 
 the cunning savage laid his hand upon the sill of the window, the 
 better to raise himself to its level. That sight tempted her in spite 
 of her better sense, to the very precipitation she had desired to avoid. 
 In the moment that she saw the hand of the red man upon the sill, 
 the hatchet descended, under an impulse scarcely her own. She 
 struck too quickly. The blow was given with all her force, and 
 would certainly have separated the hand from the arm had it taken 
 effect. But the quick eye of the Indian caught a glimpse of her 
 movement at the very moment in which it was made, and the hand 
 was withdrawn before the hatchet descended. The steel sank deep 
 into the soft wood so deeply that she could not disengage it. To 
 try at this object would have exposed her at once to his weapon, 
 and leaving it where it stuck, she sunk back again into shadow. 
 
 What now was she to do ? To stay where she was would be of 
 little avail ; but to cry out to those below, and seek to fly, was 
 equally unproductive of good, besides warning the enemy of the 
 defencelessness of their condition, and thus inviting a renewal of 
 the attack. The thought came to her with the danger; and, with- 
 out a word^ she maintained her position, in waiting for the progress 
 of events. As the Indian had also sunk from sight, and some 
 moments had now elapsed without his reappearance, she determined 
 to make another effort for the recovery of the hatchet. Slie 
 grasped it by the handle, and in the next moment the hand of the 
 savage wae upon her own. He felt that his grasp was on the 
 fingers of a woman, and in a brief word and something of a chuckle, 
 while he still maintained his hold upon it, he conveyed intelligence 
 of the fact to those below. But it was a woman with a man's 
 spirit with whom he contended, and her endeavour was successful 
 to disengage herself. The same success did not attend her effort to 
 recover the weapon. In the brief struggle with her enemy it had 
 become disengaged from the wood, and while both strove to seize 
 it, it slipped from their mutual hands, and sliding over the sill, in 
 another instant was heard rattling through the intervening bushes
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 393 
 
 Descending upon the ground below, it became the spoil of those 
 without, whose murmurs of gratulation she distinctly heard. But 
 now came the tug of difficulty. The Indian, striving at the 
 entrance, was necessarily encouraged by the discovery that his 
 opponent was not a man ; and assured, at the saiue time, by the 
 forbearance, on the part of those within, to strike him effectually 
 down from the tree, he now resolutely endeavoured to effect his 
 entrance. His head was again fully in sight of the anxious woman 
 then his shoulders ; and, at length, taking a firm grasp upon the 
 sill, he strove to elevate himself by muscular strength, so as to se- 
 cure him sufficient purchase for the entrance at which he aimed. 
 
 What could she do weaponless, hopeless ? The prospect was 
 startling and terrible enough ; but she was a strong-minded woman, 
 and impulse served her when reflection would most probably have 
 taught lier-to fly. She had but one resource ; and as the Indian had 
 gradually thrust one hand forward for the hold upon the sill, and 
 raised the other up to the side of the window, she grasped the one 
 nighest to her own. She grasped it firmly, with all her might, and 
 to advantage, as, havfcig lifted himself on tiptoe for the purpose of 
 ascent, he had necessarily lost much of the control which a secure 
 hold for \iis feet must have given him. Her grasp sufficiently assisted 
 him forward, to lessen still more greatly the security of his feet, 
 while, at the same time, though bringing him still farther into the 
 apartment, placing him in such a position half in air as to de- 
 feat much of the muscular exercise which his limbs would have 
 possessed in any other situation. Her weapon now would have 
 been all-important ; and the brave woman mentally deplored the 
 precipitancy with which she had acted in the first instance, and 
 which had so unhappily deprived her of its use. But self-reproach 
 was unavailing now, and she was satisfied if she could be able to 
 retain her foe in his present position ; by which, keeping him out, 
 or in and out, as she did, she necessarily excluded all other foes 
 from the aperture which he so completely filled up. The intruder, 
 though desirous enough of entrance before, was rather reluctant to 
 obtain it new, under existing circumstances. He strove desperately 
 to effect a retreat, but had advanced too far, however, to be easily 
 successful ; and, in his confusion and disquiet, he spoke to those 
 
 17*
 
 394 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 below, in his own language, explaining his difficulty, and directing 
 their movement to his assistance. A sudden rush along the tree 
 indicated to the conscious sense of the woman the new danger, in 
 .the approach of additional enemies, who must not only sustain, but 
 piish forward, the one with whom she contended. This warned her 
 at once of the necessity of some sudden procedure, if she hoped to 
 do any thing for her own and the safety of those around her the 
 women and the children ; whom, amid all the contest, she had never 
 once alarmed. Putting forth all her strength, therefore, though 
 nothing in comparison with that of him whom she opposed, had he 
 been in a condition to exert it, she strove to draw him still farther 
 across the entrance, so as to exclude, if possible, the approach of 
 those coming behind him. She hoped to gain time sufficient 
 time for those preparing the ladder to come to her relief; and with 
 this hope, for the first time, she called aloud to Grayson and her 
 ' husband. 
 
 The Indian, in the meanwhile, derived the support for his person, 
 as well from the grasp of the woman, as from his own hold upon 
 the sill of the window. Her effort necessarily drawing him still 
 farther forward, placed him so completely in the way of his allies 
 that they could do him little service while things remained in this 
 situation; and, to complete the difficulties of his predicament, 
 while they busied themselves in several efforts at his extrication, 
 the branches of the little tree, resting against the dwelling, yielding 
 suddenly to the unusual weight upon it trembling and sinking 
 away at last cracked beneath the burden, and snapping off from 
 its several holds, fell from under them, dragging against the build- 
 ing in the progress down ; thus breaking their fall, but cutting off 
 all their hope from this mode of entrance, and leaving their 
 comrade awkwardly poised aloft, able neither to enter, nor to depart 
 from the window. The tree finally settled heavily upon the ground ; 
 and with it went the three savages who had so readily ascended to 
 the assistance of their comrade bruised and very much hurt ; 
 while he, now without any support but that which he derived from 
 the sill, and what little his feet could secure from the irregular 
 crevices between the logs of which the house had been built, was 
 hung in air, unable to advance except at the will of his woman
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 395 
 
 opponent, and dreading a far worse fall from his eminence than 
 that which had already happened to his allies. Desperate with his 
 situation, he thrust his arm, as it was still held by the woman, still 
 farther into the window, and this enabled her with both hands to 
 secure and strengthen the grasp which she had originally taken 
 upon it. This she did with a new courage and strength, derived 
 from the voices below, by which she understood a promise of 
 assistance. Excited and nerved, she drew the extended arm of the 
 Indian, in spite of all his struggles, directly over the sill, so as to 
 turn the elbow completely down upon it. With her whole weight 
 thus employed, bending down to the floor to strengthen herself to 
 the task, she pressed the arm across the window until her ears 
 heard the distinct, clear crack of the bone until she heard the 
 groan, and felt the awful struggles of the suffering wretch, twisting 
 himself round with all his effort to obtain for the shattered arm, a 
 natural and relaxed position, and, with this object, leaving his hold 
 upon every thing ; only sustained, indeed, by the grasp of his 
 enemy. But the movement of the woman had been quite too- 
 sudden, her nerves too firm, and her strength too great, to suffer 
 him to succeed. The jagged splinters of the broken limb were 
 thrust up, lacerating and tearing through flesh and skin, while a 
 howl of the acutest agony attested the severity of that suffering 
 which could extort such an acknowledgment from the American 
 savage. He fainted in his pain, and as the weight increased upon 
 the arm of the woman, the nature of her sex began to resume it? 
 sway. With a shudder of every fibre, she released her hold upon 
 him. The effort of her soul was over a strange sickness came 
 upon her ; and she was just conscious of a crashing fall of the 
 heavy body among the branches of the tree at the foot of the 
 window, when she staggered back fainting into the arms of iie7 
 husband, who just at that moment ascended to her relief.
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 " He shouts, he strikes, he falls his fields are o'er , 
 He dies in triumph, and he asks no more." 
 
 THESE slight defeats were sufficiently annoying in themselves to 
 the invaders ; they were more so, as they proved not only the in- 
 adequacy of their present mode of assault, but the watchfulness 
 of the beleaguered garrison. Their hope had been to take the 
 borderers by surprise. Failing to succeed in this, they were now 
 thrown all aback. Their fury was consequently more than ever 
 exaggerated by their losses, and, rushing forward in their despera- 
 tion, through, and in defiance of, the fire from the Carolinians, the 
 greater number placed themselves beneath the line of pickets, with 
 so much celerity as to baffle, in most respects, the aim of the de- 
 fenders. A few remained to bear away the wounded and slain to 
 a place of safe shelter in the thick woods, while the rest lay, either 
 in quiet under the walls of the Block House, secure there from the 
 fire of the garrison, or amused themselves in unavailing cries of 
 sarcasm to those within, while irnpotently expending blows upon 
 the insensible logs between them. The elder Grayson, who directed 
 solely the movements of the beleaguered, was not unwilling that 
 the assailants should amuse themselves after this fashion, as the 
 delay of the Indians was to them the gain of time, which was all 
 they could expect at such a period, and, perhaps, in a predatory 
 warfare like the present, all that they could desire. 
 
 But Ishiagaska with his force now came upon the scene, and 
 somewhat changed the aspect of affairs. He took the entire com- 
 mand, reinvigorated the efforts of the red men, and considerably 
 altered the mode and direction of attack. He was a subtle par- 
 tisan, and the consequences of his appearance were soon percepti- 
 ble in the development of events. The force immediately beneath 
 the walls, and secure from the shot of the garrison, were reinforced,
 
 THE YEMASSEE. ^ 397 
 
 and in so cautious a manner, that the Carolinians were entirely 
 ignorant of the increased strength of the enemy in that quarter. 
 Creeping, as they did, from buslj to bush now lying prone and 
 silent to the ground, in utter immobility now rushing, as circum- 
 stances prompted, with all rapidity they put themselves into cover, 
 crossing the intervening space without the loss of a man. Having 
 thus collected in force beneath the walls of the fortress, the greater 
 number proceeded to gather up in piles, as they had begun to do 
 before, immense quantities of the dry pine trash and the gummy 
 turpentine wood which the neighbourhood readily afforded. Other 
 parties watched the garrison, with bows ready, and arrows on the 
 string. Meanwhile, the piles of combustible matter were heaped 
 in thick masses around the more accessible points of the pickets ; 
 and the first intimation which the garrison had of their proceeding 
 was a sudden gust of flame, blazing first about the gate of the 
 area, on one side of the Block House, then rushing from point to 
 point with mnazing rapidity, sweeping and curling widely around 
 the building itself. The gate, and the pickets all about it, made 
 as they had been of the rich pine, for its great durability, were 
 themselves as appropriate materials for the destructive element to 
 feed upon, as the Indians could have desired ; and, licked greedily 
 by the fire, were soon ignited. Blazing impetuously, the flames 
 soon aroused the indwellers to a more acute consciousness of the 
 danger now at hand. A fierce shout of their assailants, as they 
 beheld the rapid progress of the experiment, warned them to 
 greater exertion if they hoped to escape the dreadful fate which 
 threatened to engulf them. To remain where they were, was to 
 be consumed in the flames ; to rush forth, was to encounter the 
 tomahawks of an enemy five times their number. 
 
 It was a moment of gloomy necessity, that which assembled the 
 chief defenders of the fortress to a sort of war-council. They 
 could only deliberate to fight was out of the question. Theii 
 enemy was one to whom they could now oppose 
 
 Nor subtle wile, 
 
 Nor arbitration strong." 
 The Indians showed no front for assault or aim, while the flames.
 
 398 * THE YEMASSEB, 
 
 rushing from point to point, and seizing upon numerous places 
 at once, continued to advance with a degree of celerity which left 
 it impossible, in the dry condition of its timber, that the Block 
 House could possibly, for any length of time, escape. Upon the 
 building itself the savages could not fix the fire at first. But two 
 ends of it were directly accessible to them, and these were without 
 any entrance, had been pierced with holes for musketry, and were 
 well watched by the vigilant eyes within. The two sides were in- 
 closed by the line of pickets, and had no need of other guardian- 
 ship. The condition of affairs was deplorable. The women wept 
 and prayed, the children screamed, and the men, assembling in tho 
 long apartment of the lower story, with heavy hearts and solemn 
 faces, proceeded to ask counsel of one another in the last resort. 
 Some lay around on the loose plank ; here and there, along the floor, 
 a bearskin formed the place of rest for a huge and sullen warrior, 
 vexed with the possession of strength which he was not permitted 
 to employ. A few watched at the musket holes, and others busied 
 themselves in adjusting all things for the final necessity, so far as 
 their thoughts or fancies could possibly divine its shape. 
 
 The principal men of the garrison were gathered in the centre 
 of the hall, sitting with downcast heads and fronting one another, 
 along two of the uncovered sleepers ; their muskets resting idly 
 between their legs, their attitudes and general expression of abandon 
 signifying clearly the due increase of apprehension in their minds 
 with the progress of the flames. Broad flashes of light from the 
 surrounding conflagration illuminated, but could not enliven, the 
 sombre character of that grouping. A general pause ensued after 
 their assemblage, none seeming willing or^ able to offer counsel ; 
 and Grayson himself, the brave forester in command, was evidently 
 at fault in the farther business before them. Nichols was the 
 only man to break the silence, which he did in his usual manner. 
 
 " And why, my friends, are we here assembled ?" was his saga- 
 cious inquiry, looking round as he spoke upon his inattentive co- 
 adjutors. A forced smile on the faces of several, but not a word, 
 attested their uniform estimate of the speaker. He proceeded : 
 
 " That is the question, my friends why are we here assembled ? 
 I answer, for the good of the people. We are here to protect
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 399 
 
 them if we can, and to perish for, and with them, if we must. I 
 cannot forget my duties to my country, and to those in whose 
 behalf I stand before the hatchet of the Indian, and the cannon of 
 the Spaniard. These teach me, and I would teach it to you, my 
 friends to fight, to hold out to the last. We may not think of 
 surrender, my friends, until other hope is gone. Whatever be the 
 peril, till that moment be it mine to encounter it whatever be 
 the privation, till that moment I am the man to endure it. Be it 
 for me, at least, though I stand alone in this particular, to do for 
 the people whatever wisdom or valour may do until the moment 
 comes which shall call on us for surrender. The question now, 
 my friends, is simply this has that moment come or not? I 
 pause for a reply." 
 
 " Who talks of surrender ?" growled the smith, as he cast a glance 
 of ferocity at the speaker. " Who talks of surrender at all, to these 
 cursed bloodhounds ; the -red-skins that hunt for nothing but our 
 blood ! We cannot surrender if we would we must fight, die, do 
 anything but surrender !" 
 
 " So say I I am ready to fight and die for my country. I say it 
 now, as I have said it a hundred times before, but " The speech 
 which Nichols had thus begun, the smith again interrupted with a 
 greater bull-dog expression than ever. 
 
 " Ay, so you have, and so will say a hundred times more with 
 as little sense in it one time as another. We are all here to die, if 
 there's any need for it ; but that isn't the trouble. It's how we are 
 to die that's the question. Are we to stay here and be burnt to 
 death like timber-rats to sally out and be shot, or to volunteer, as 
 I do now, axe in hand, to go out and cut down the pickets that 
 immediately join the house ? By that we may put a stop to the 
 fire, and then we shall have a clear dig at the savages that lie behind 
 them. I'm for that. If anybody's willing to go along with me, let 
 him up hands no talk we have too much of that already." 
 
 " I'm ready here !" cried Grayson, and his hands were thrust up 
 at the instant. 
 
 "No, Wat," cried the smith "not you you must stay and 
 manage here. Your head's the coolest, and though Fd sooner have 
 your arm alongside of me in the rough time than any other two that I
 
 400 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 know of, 'twould not do to take you from the rest on this risk. Whc 
 else is ready ? let him come to the scratch, and no long talk about it, 
 What do you say, Nichols ? that's chance enough for you, if you 
 really want to die for the people." And as Grimstead spoke, he 
 thrust his head forward, while his eyes peered into the very bosom 
 of the little doctor, and his axe descended to the joist over which 
 he stood with a thundering emphasis that rang through the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 "I can't use the axe," cried Nichols, hurriedly. "It's not my 
 instrument. Sword or pistol for me. In their exercise I give way 
 to no man, and in their use I ask for no leader. But I am neither 
 woodman nor blacksmith." 
 
 " And this is your way of dying for the good of the people !" 
 said the smith contemptuously. 
 
 " I am willing even now I say it again, as I have before said, 
 and as now I solemnly repeat it. But I must die for them after my 
 own fashion, and under proper circumstances. With sword in hand 
 crossing the perilous breach with weapon befitting the use of a 
 noble gentleman, I am ready; but I know not any rule in patriotism 
 that would require of me to perish for my country with the broad 
 axe of a wood-chopper, the cleaver of a butcher, or the sledge of a 
 blacksmith in my hands." 
 
 "Well, I'm no soldier," retorted the smith ; "but I think a man, 
 to be really willing to die for his country, shouldn't be too nice as 
 to which way he does it. Now the sword and the pistol are of 
 monstrous little use here. The muskets from these holes, above and 
 below, will keep off the Indians, while a few of us cut down the 
 stakes ; so now, men, as time grows short. Grayson, you let the 
 boys keep a sharp look out with the ticklers, and I'll for the timber, 
 let him follow who will. There are boys enough, I take it, to go 
 with Dick Grimstead, though they may none of them be very 
 anxious to die for their country." 
 
 Thus saying, and having received the sanction of Grayson to this, 
 the only project from which anything could be expected, the black- 
 smith pushed forward, thowing open the door leading to the area 
 which the fire in great part now beleaguered while Grayson made 
 arrangements to command the group with his musketry, and if
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 401 
 
 keep the entrance, thus opened for Grimsteacl and his party, with 
 his choicest men. The blacksmith was one of those blunt, burly 
 fellows, who take with the populace. It was not difficult for him to 
 procure three men where twenty were ready. They had listened 
 with much sympathy to the discussion narrated, and as the pom- 
 posity and assumption of Nichols had made him an object of vulgar 
 ridicule, a desire to rebuke him, not less than a willingness to go 
 with the smith, contributed readily to persuade them to the adven- 
 ture. In a few moments the door was unbarred, and the party sal 
 lied forth through the entrance, which was kept ajar for their ingress, 
 and well watched by half a dozen of the stoutest men in the garri- 
 son, Grayson at their head. Nichols went above to direct the 
 musket-men, while his mind busied itself in conning over the form 
 of capitulation, which he thought it not improbable that he should 
 have to frame with the chiefs of the besieging army. In this 
 labour he had but one cause of vexation, which arose from the 
 necessity he would be under, in emimerating the prisoners, of 
 putting himself after Grayson, t./e commander. 
 
 In the meanwhile, with sleeves rolled up, jacket off, and face that 
 seemed not often to have been entirely free from the begriming 
 blackness of his profession, Grimstead commenced his tremendous 
 blows upon the contiguous pickets, followed with like zeal, if not 
 equal power, by the three men who had volunteered along with him. 
 Down went the first post beneath his arm, and as, with resolute 
 spirit, he was about to assail another, a huge Santee warrior stood 
 in the gap which he had made, and, with a powerful blow from the 
 mace which he carried had our blacksmith been less observant- 
 would have soon finished his career/* But Grimstead was a man 
 of agility as well as strength and spirit, and, leaping aside from the 
 blow, as-his eye rose to the corresponding glance from that of hi* 
 enemy, he gave due warning to his axe-men, who forbore their 
 strokes under his command. The aperture was yet too small for 
 any combat of the parties ; and, ignorant of the force against him, 
 surprised also at its appearance, he despatched one of his men to 
 Grayson, and gave directions, which, had they been complied with, 
 had certainly given the advantage to the garrison 
 
 " Now, boys, you shall have fun I have sent for some hand-to
 
 4:02 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 hand men to do the fighting, while we do the chopping, and 
 Nichols, who loves dying so much, can't help coming along with 
 them, lie's the boy for sword and pistol he's no woodcutter. 
 Well, many a better chap than he's had to chop wood for an 
 honest living. But we'll s^e now what he is good for. Let him 
 come." 
 
 " Oh, he's all flash in the pan, Grimstead. His tongue is mus- 
 tard-seed enough, but 'taint the shot. But what's that ?" 
 
 The speaker, who was one of Grimstead's comrades, might well 
 ask, for first a crackling, then a whirling crash, announced the fall, 
 at length, of the huge gate to the entrance of the court. A 
 volume of flame and cinders, rising with the gust which it created, 
 rushed up, obscuring for a moment, and blinding all things around 
 it ; but, as it subsided, the Indians lying in wait on the outside 
 and whom no smoke could blind, leaped with uplifted tomahawks 
 through the blazing ruins, and pushed forward to the half-opened 
 entrance of the Block House. The brave blacksmith, admirably 
 supported, threw himself in the way, and was singled out by the 
 huge warrior who had struck at him through the picket. The 
 savage was brave and strong, but he had his match in the smith, 
 whose courage was indomitable and lively, while his strength was 
 surpassed by that of few. Wielding his axe with a degree of ease 
 that, of itself, warned the enemy what he had to expect, it was but 
 a moment before the Indian gave way before him. But the smith 
 was not disposed to allow a mere acknowledgment of his superi- 
 ority to pass for victory. He pressed him back upon his comrades, 
 while his own three aids, strong and gallant themselves, following 
 his example, drove the intruders upon the blaze which flamed furi- 
 ously around them. Already had a severe wound, which almost 
 severed the arm of the Santee warrior from its trunk, confirmed 
 the advantage gained by the whites, while severe hatchet wounds 
 had diminished not a little the courage of his Indian fellows, when, 
 of a sudden, a new party came upon the scene of combat, changing 
 entirely its face and character, and diminishing still more the 
 chances of the Carolinians. 
 
 This was Chorley, the captain of the pirate. Having lodged 
 his captives, as we have seen, in a little hovel on the river's brink,
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 403 
 
 under a small guard of his own seamen, he had proceeded with all 
 due speed upon the steps of Ishiagaska. He arrived opportunely 
 for the band which had been placed along the walls of the Block 
 House, in ambush, and whose daring had at length carried them 
 into the outer defences of the fortress. A single shot from one of 
 his men immediately warned the smith and his brave comrades of 
 the new enemy before them, and while stimulating afresh the 
 courage of their savage assailants, it materially diminished their 
 own. They gave back the three survivors one of the party 
 having fallen in the first discharge. The Indians rushed upon 
 them, and thus throwing themselves between, for a time defeated the 
 aim of Chorley's musketeers. Fighting like a lion, as he retreated 
 to the door of the Block House, the brave smith continued to keep 
 unharmed, making at the same time some little employment in 
 the shape of ugly wounds to dress, in the persons of his rash assail- 
 ants. Once more they gave back before him, and again the mus- 
 ketry of Chorley was enabled to tell upon him. A discharge from 
 the Block House in the meantime retorted with good effect the 
 attack of the sailors, and taught a lesson of caution to Chorley, of 
 which he soon availed himself. Three of his men bit the dust in 
 that single fire ; and the Indians, suffering more severely, fled at 
 the discharge. The brave smith reached the door with a single 
 unwounded follower, himself unhurt. His comrades threw open 
 the entrance for his reception, but an instant too late. A parting 
 shot from the muskets of the seamen was made with a fatal effect. 
 Grimstead sank down upon the threshold as the bullet passed 
 through his body the axe fell from his hand he grasped at it con- 
 vulsively, and lay extended in part upon the sill of the. door, when 
 Grayson drew him in safety within, and again securely cljsed it. 
 
 " You are not hurt, Dick, my old fellow," exclaimed Grayson, 
 his voice trembling with the apprehensions which he felt. 
 
 " Hurt enough, Wat bad enough. No more grist ground at 
 that mill. But, hold in don't be frightened you can lick 'em 
 yet. Ah," he groaned in a mortal agony. 
 
 They composed his limbs, and pouring some spirits down his 
 throat, he recovered in a few moments, and convulsively inquired 
 for his axe"
 
 04 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " I wouldn't lose it it was dad's own axe, and must go to bro- 
 ther Tom when I die." 
 
 " Die indeed, Dick don't speak of such a thing," said Grayson. 
 
 " I don't, Hugh I leave that to Nichols but get the axe ah ! 
 God it's here here where's Tom ?" 
 
 His brother, a youth of sixteen, came down to him from the 
 upper apartment where he had been stationed, and kneeling over 
 him, tried to support his head but the blood gushed in a torrent 
 from his mouth. He strove to speak, but choked in the effort. 
 A single convulsion, which turned him upon his face, and tbe 
 struggle was all over. The battles of the smith were done.
 
 CHAPTER XL VIII. 
 
 " The last blow for his country, and he dies, 
 Surviving not the ruin he must see." 
 
 THE force brought up by the younger Grayson, and now led by 
 Harrison, came opportunely to the relief of the garrison. The 
 flames had continued to rage, unrestrained, so rapidly around the 
 building, that its walls were at length greedily seized upon by the 
 furious element, and the dense smoke, gathering through all its 
 apartments, was alone sufficient to compel the retreat of its defend- 
 ers. Nothing now was left them in their desperation but to sally 
 forth even upon the knives and hatchets of their merciless and ex- 
 pecting foe ; and for this last adventure, so full of danger, so utterly 
 wanting in a fair promise of any successful result, the sturdy forest- 
 ers prepared themselves, with all their courage. Fortunately for 
 this movement, it was just about this period that the approach of 
 Harrison, with his party, compelled the besiegers to change their 
 position, in order the better to contend with him ; and, however 
 reluctant to suffer the escape of those so completely in their power, 
 and for whose destruction they had already made so many sacri- 
 fices of time and life, they were compelled to do so in the reason- 
 able fear of an assault upon two sides from the garrison before 
 thorn, impelled by desperation, and from the foe in their rear, de- 
 scribed by their scouts as in rapid advance to the relief of the Block 
 House. The command was shared jointly between Chorley and 
 Ishiagaska. The former had fared much worse than his tawny 
 allies ; for, not so well skilled in the artifices of land and Indian 
 warfare, seven out of the twenty warriors whom tie commanded had 
 fallen victims in the preceding conflicts. His discretion had be- 
 come something more valuable, therefore, when reminded, by the 
 scanty force remaining under his command, not only of his loss, 
 but of his present weakness ; a matter of no little concern, as he
 
 406 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 well knew that his Indian allies, in their capricious desperation, 
 might not be willing to discriminate between the whites who had 
 befriended, and those who had been their foes. 
 
 Thus counselled by necessity, the assailing chiefs drew off their 
 forces from the Block House, and, sinking- into cover, prepared to 
 encounter their new enemies, after the fashion of their warfare. 
 Ignorant, in the meantime, of the approach of Harrison or the 
 force under him, Grayson wondered much at this movement of the 
 besiegers, of which he soon had intelligence, and instantly pre- 
 pared to avajl himself of the privilege which it gave to the garri- 
 son of flight. He called his little force together, and having ar- 
 ranged, before leaving its shelter, the progress and general move- 
 ment of his party, he carefully placed the women and children in 
 the centre of his little troop, sallied boldly forth into the woods, 
 conscious of all the dangers of the movement, but strengthened 
 with all those thoughts of lofty cheer with which the good Provi- 
 dence, at all times, inspires the spirit of adventure, in the hour of 
 its trying circumstance. There was something of pleasure in their 
 very release from the confined circuit of the Block House, though 
 now more immediately exposed to the tomahawk of the Indian ; 
 and with the pure air, and the absence of restraint, the greater 
 number of the foresters grew even cheerful and glad a^ change* of 
 mood in which even the women largely partook. Some few indeed 
 of the more Puritanical among them, disposed to think themselves 
 the especial charge of the Deity, and holding him not less willing 
 than strong to save, under any circumstances, even went so far as 
 to break out into a hymn of exultation and rejoicing, entirely for- 
 getting the dangers still hanging around them, and absolutely con- 
 tending warmly with Grayson when he undertook to restrain them. 
 Not the least refractory of these was his own mother, who, in spite 
 of all he could say, mouthed and muttered continually, and jvery 
 now and then burst forth into starts of irrepressible psalmody, suf- 
 ficient to set the entire tribe of Indian; unerringly upon their track. 
 The remonstrance of Grayson had little effect, except when he re- 
 minded her of his younger brother. The idolized Hugh, and his 
 will, were her law in most things. Appealing to his authority and 
 threatening complaint to him, he succeeded in making her silent
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 407 
 
 at least to a certain extent. Entire silence was scarcely possible 
 with the old dame, who likened her escape from the flaming Block 
 House, and, so far, from the hands of the savage, to every instance 
 of Providential deliverance she had ever read of in the sacred vo- 
 lume; and still, under the stimulus of such a feeling, broke out 
 every now and then, with sonorous emphasis, into song, from an 
 old collection of the 'period, every atom of which she had fami- 
 liarly at the end of her tongue. A moment had not well elapsed 
 after the first suggestion of Grayson, when, as if unconsciously, 
 she commenced again : 
 
 "'The Lord doth fight the foe for us, 
 And smite the heathen down.' " 
 
 " Now, mother, in the name of common sense, can't you be 
 quiet P 
 
 " And wherefore should we not send up the hymn of rejoicing 
 and thanksgiving for all his mercies, to the Father who has stood 
 beside us in the hour of peril ? Wherefore, I ask of you, Walter 
 Grayson ? Oh, my son, beware of self-conceit and pride of heart ; 
 and because you have here commanded earthly and human wea- 
 pons, think not, in the vanity of your spirit, that the victory comes 
 from such as these. The Saviour of men, my son it is he that has 
 fought this fight. It is his sword that has smitten the savage hip 
 and thigh, and brought us free out of the land of bondage, even 
 as he brought his people of old from the bondage of the Egyp- 
 tians. He is mighty to save, and therefore should we rejoice with 
 an exceeding strong voice." 
 
 And as if determined to sustain by her own example, the proceed- 
 ino; which she counselled, her lungs were tasked to the uttermost, 
 n proclaiming 
 
 " ' The Lord he comes with mighty power, 
 The army of the saints is there 
 He speaks '" 
 
 " For Heaven'* sake, mother hush your tongue if it be in 
 you to keep it quiet for a moment. Let it rest only for a little 
 while, or we sh:,ll all be scalped. Wuit till daylight, and you maj
 
 4:08 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 then sing to your heart's content. It can't be long till daylight, 
 ar.u you can then begin, but not till then, or we shall have th 
 savages on our track, and nothing can save us." 
 
 "Oh ! thou of little faith I tell thee, Walter, thou hast read 
 but too little of thy Bible, and dependest too much upon the 
 powers of earth all of which are wicked and vain defences. Put 
 thy trust in God ; he is strong to save. Uncber his hand I fear not 
 th savage for, does he not tell us " and she quavered again : 
 
 " ' Unfold thine eye and see me here, 
 
 I do the battle for the just, 
 My people nothing have to fear ' " 
 
 * " Mother, in the name of common sense." But she went on 
 with double fervour, as if furious with the interruption : 
 
 " ' If faithful in my word ' " 
 
 " Mother, mother, I say " But she was bent seemingly tc 
 finish the line : 
 
 " ' they trust,' " 
 
 " Was there ever such an obstinate ! I say, mother w 
 
 " Well, my son ?" 
 
 " Are you my mother ?" 
 
 "Of a certainty, I am. What mean you by that question,. 
 Walter ?" 
 
 "Do you want to see my scalp dangling upon the long pole of a 
 savage ?" 
 
 " God forbid, Walter, my son. Did I not bear thee did I not 
 suffer for thee ?" 
 
 " Then, if you do not really desire to see me scalped, put some 
 stop on your tongue, and move along as if death lay under every 
 footstep. If the savages surround us now, we are gone, every 
 mother's son of us and all the saints, unless they are accustomed 
 to Indian warfare, can do nothing in our behalf." 
 
 " Speak not irreverently, son Walter. The saints are blessed 
 mediators for the sinner, and may move eternal mercy to save, 
 Have they not fought for us already to-night and are we not 
 saved by their ministry from the bloody hands of the savage ?"
 
 THE YEMASSEK. 409 
 
 "No it's by our own hand;., and our own good handiwork, 
 moilier. 1 owe the saints no thanks, and shall owe you still less, 
 unless you stop that howling." 
 
 " Oh, Father, forgive him, he knows not what he says lie is yet 
 <n the bondage of sin " and she hymned her prayer from her 
 collection : 
 
 " ' Strike not the sinner in his youth, 
 But bear him in thy mercy on, 
 'Till in the path of sacred truth, 
 
 " Mother, if you do not hush up, I will tell Hugh of your obstinacy. 
 He shall know how little you mind his counsel." 
 
 " Well, well, Walter, my son, I am done. Thou art too hasty, 
 I'm sure. Oh, bless me " 
 
 Her speech was cut short by a sudden and fierce whoop of the 
 Indians, followed by the huzzas of the whites at a greater distance, 
 and the rapid fire of musketry, scattered widely along the whole 
 extended range of forest around them. 
 
 " Down, down, all of you, on your knees one and all " was 
 the cry of Grayson to his party ; and, accustomed to most of the 
 leading difficulties and dangers of such a fight, the order was 
 obeyed, as if instinctively, by all except Dame Grayson, who inflexibly 
 maintained her position, and refused to move, alleging her objection 
 to any prostration except for the purposes of prayer. Maddened by 
 her obstinacy, Grayson, with very little scruple, placing his hand 
 upon her shoulder, bore her down to the earth, exclaiming, 
 
 " Then say your prayers, mother do any thing but thwart what 
 you cannot mend." 
 
 Thus humbled, the party crept along more closely into cover, 
 until, at a spot where the trees were clustered along with under- 
 wood into something like a copse, Grayson ordered a halt, and pro- 
 ceeded to arrange his men and their weapons for active conflict. 
 The war approached at intervals, and an occasional shot whistled 
 over the heads of the party, conclusively proving the necessity of 
 their position. The Indians seemed to lie belwixt them and tho 
 advancing Carolinians ; and perceiving this tr be the case, Graysou 
 threw the non-combatants under shelter in ouch a manner as to 
 18
 
 410 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 interpose those who could fight in the way of the coming red men, 
 in the event of their being driven back upon them. His party, in 
 the meanwhile, well prepared, lay quietly under cover, and with 
 their weapons ready to take advantage of any such event. 
 
 Harrison, as we may remember, had taken the command of the 
 greater body of the force which had been brought up througn the 
 industrious and prodigious exertions of Hugh Graysou. This 
 young man, stung and mortified as he had been by the rebuke of 
 Bess Matthews, with a degree of mental concentration, rather 
 indicative of his character though hopeless of those affections, 
 which of all other human hopes he had most valued had de- 
 termined to do himself justice by doing his duty. Throwing 
 aside, therefore, as well as he might, the passionate mood which 
 was active in his soul, he had gone forth from the house of the 
 pastor, resolute to make every exertion in procuring a force which 
 might protect the family from an attack, which he had at length 
 learned, as well as Harrison, greatly to apprehend. His pride sug- 
 gested to him the gratification of saving the life of her who had 
 scorned him, as an honourable revenge, not less than a fair blotting 
 out of those errors of which, on her account, he had suffered him- 
 self to be guilty. His efforts, so far, had been crowned with 
 success; but he had come too late for his prime object. The 
 dwelling of the pastor had been sacked before his arrival, and, like 
 Harrison, he was under the most horrible apprehensions for her 
 safety. The latter person came upon him opportunely, in time to 
 keep him from falling into the ambuscade through which he had 
 himself so singularly passed in safety and with more knowledge 
 of Indian strife, Harrison took the command of a party which con- 
 fided fully to his skill, and, of necessity, with a courage heightened 
 proportionably when under his direction. 
 
 The cautious yet bold management of Harrison soon gave him 
 the advantage. The foresters, guided by him, each took his tree 
 after the manner of the Indians, and with the advantage of weapon? 
 more certain to kill, and equally, if not more certain, in airr 
 Apart from this, the Carolinian woodman knew enough of th 
 savages to know that they were no opponents, generally speakinp 
 to be feared in a trial of respective muscular strength. The life of
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 411 
 
 the hunter fits him to endure rather than to contend. The white 
 borderer was taught l>y his necessities to do both. He could 
 wield the axe and overthrow the tree a labour to which the 
 Indian is averse. lie could delve and dig, and such employment 
 was a subject of scorn and contempt with the haughty aboriginal 
 warrior. At the same time, he practised the same wanderings 
 and the same felicity of aim, and in enduring the toils of the chase, 
 he was fairly the equal of his tawny but less enterprising neigh- 
 bour. The consciousness of these truths a consciousness soon 
 acquired from association was not less familiar to the Indian 
 than to the Carolinian ; and the former, in consequence, despaired 
 of success usually when required to oppose the white man hand to 
 hand. His hope was in the midnight surprise in the sudden 
 onslaught in the terror inspired by his fearful whoop and in the 
 awful scalp-song with which he approached, making the imagina- 
 tion of his foe an auxiliar to his own, as he told him how he 
 should rend away the dripping locks from his skull, while his eyes 
 swam in darkness, and the pulses were yet flickering at his heart. 
 
 From cover to cover from tree to tree the individual Caroli- 
 nians rushed on against their retreating enemies. In this manner 
 the fight became somewhat pell-mell, and the opponents grew 
 strangely mingled together. Still, as each was busy with his 
 particular enemy, no advantage could well be taken of the circum- 
 stance on either side ; and the hatchets of the individual combatants 
 clashed under neighbouring trees, and their knives were uplifted 
 in the death-struggle over the same stump, without any hope of 
 assistance from their friends in any form of their difficulty. 
 
 In this general state of things, there was one exception in the 
 case of Harrison himself. He was approached resolutely in the 
 course of the conflict by a Coosaw warrior a man of inferior size, 
 even with his tribe, the individuals of which were generally 
 diminutive. The dark eye of the swarthy foe, as he advanced 
 upon Harrison, was lighted up with a malignant audacity, to be 
 understood only by a reference to the history of his people. That 
 people were now almost exterminated. He was one of the few 
 survivors a chief a bold, brave man subtle, active, and distin- 
 guished for his skill as a warrior and hunter. He recognised in
 
 i!2 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 Harrison the renowned Coosah-moray-te the leader of the force 
 which had uprooted his nation, and had driven his warriors to the 
 degrading' necessity of merging their existence as a people with 
 that of a neighbouring tribe. The old feeling of his country, and 
 a former war, was at work in his bosom, and through all the mazes 
 of the conflict he steadily kept his eye on the course of Harrison. 
 lie alone sought him he alone singled him out for the fight. 
 For a long time, the nature of the struggle had prevented their 
 meeting ; but he now approached the spot where Harrison stood, 
 holding at bay a tall Chestatee warrior from the interior of 
 Georgia, The Chestatee was armed with the common war-club, 
 and had no other weapon. This weapon is chiefly useful when 
 confusion has been introduced by the bowmen into the ranks irf an 
 ?nemy. It is about two feet in length, and bears at its end, and 
 -,ometimes at both ends, a cross-piece of iron, usually without any 
 distinct form, but sometimes resembling the blade of a spear, and 
 uot unfrequently that of a hatchet. Harrison was armed with a 
 tword, and had besides, in his possession, the knife the same 
 broad, cimeter-like weapon which had been given him by Mativvan 
 in his flight from Pocota-ligo. His rifle, which he had not had 
 time to reload, leaned against a tree, at the foot of which stood 
 Hector, with difficulty restraining, and keeping back, with all his 
 might, the impatient dog Dugdale, which, by his master's orders, 
 he had re-muzzled. This had been done in order to his safety 
 It was only in pursuit that his services would have been of avail , 
 for though he might be of use in the moment of strife, the chances 
 were that he would have been shot. Thus reposing, Hector WPS 
 enabled to see the approach of the Coosaw, and by an occasional 
 exhibition of his own person and that of the dog, to deter him 
 from the attack which he had long meditated. But the strife 
 between Harrison and the Chestatee was about to cease. That 
 warrior, aiming a fierce blow at the person of his enemy, drove the 
 spear-head of his club into the tree, and failing at the moment to 
 disengage it, fell a victim to the quicksightedness of his opponent. 
 Harrison's sword in that instant was sheathed in the bosom of the 
 Chestatee, who, as he received the wound, sprang upwards from 
 the ground, snapping the slender weapon short at the hilt, the
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 413 
 
 blade still remaining buried iu his body. ILirrison drew his knife, 
 and having for some time seen the purpose of the Coosaw, he 
 fortunately turned to meet him at the very instant of his approach. 
 Something surprised at the fearlessness with which his enemy 
 advanced to the coiiHict, he spoke to him, as they both paused at 
 a few paces from each other. 
 
 41 Thou art a Coosaw," exclaimed Harrison, " I know thee." 
 
 " Chinnabee is the last chief of the Coosaw. He wants blood 
 tor his people." 
 
 " Thou knowest me, then " said Harrison. 
 
 " Coosah-moray-tf /" was the simple response ; and the dark eye 
 glared, and the teeth of the savage gnashed like those ot the hun- 
 gered wolf, as the name stirred up all the recollections in his mind, 
 of that war of extermination which the warrior before him had 
 waged against his people. 
 
 " Ay the Cooaah-ntoray-te is before thee. Would Chinnabee fol- 
 low his people?" exclaimed the Englishman. 
 
 '' Chinnabee would have much blood for his people. He would 
 1 1 rink blood from the skull of Coosah-moray-te he would show the 
 scalp of the Coosah-moray-te to the warriors of Coosaw, that wait 
 for him in the Happy Valley." 
 
 " Thou shalt have no scalp of mine, friend Chinnabee. I'm 
 sorry to disappoint you, but I must I can't spare it. Come ! 1 
 know you of old for a cunning snake a snake lying in the dried 
 bush. The foot of the Coosah-moray-te will trample on thy 
 head." 
 
 Harrison spoke fearlessly, for who, contrasting the appearance of 
 the two, would have thought the contest doubtful ? The Indian 
 was scarcely over five feet in height, slender, and not well set ; 
 while his opponent, fully six feet in height, a fine specimen of sym- 
 metrical manhood, seemed aWe to crush him with a finger. The 
 Coosaw simply responded with something like a smile of scorn, 
 throwing himself at the same moment like a ball at the feet of hia 
 enemy 
 
 "Good! the snake is in the bush. Look! Coosah-moray-te 
 put the foot on his head." 
 
 The Englishman lo- >ked down upon him with something of sur
 
 il4 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 prise mingled in with his contempt, and made no show of assault ; 
 but he was too well acquainted with Indian trick and manoeuvre 
 to be thrown off his guard by this movement. Curious to see what 
 would be the next effort of one who had studiously singled him 
 out, he watched him carefully, and the Indian, something balked 
 that the enemy had not taken him at his word and approached 
 him while in his prostrate condition, slowly uncoiled himself from 
 his fold, and had partially regained his feet, when Harrison, who had 
 been looking for him fully to do so, was surprised in the next moment 
 to find his wily enemy directly between his legs. The suddenness 
 of such a movement, though it failed to throw him, as the Coosaw 
 had calculated, yet disordered his position not a little ; and before 
 he could strike a blow, or do more than thrust one of his feet down 
 upon him, his active adversary had passed from his reach, having 
 made a desperate effort with his knife to hamstring his adversary, 
 as he leaped aside and turned suddenly upon him. The rapidity 
 of Harrison's movement alone saved him, though, even then, not 
 entirely, since the knife grazed his leg, inflicting a sharp, though 
 not dangerous wound. He barely turned in time to meet the pre- 
 parations of the Coosaw for a second assault of similar character ; 
 and something more ready at this novel mode of attack, and vexed 
 at its partial success, Harrison looked with some impatience for his 
 enemy's approach, and felt a thrill of fierce delight as he saw him 
 leave with a bound the spot upon which he stood. Sinking upo" 
 his knee as the savage rolled towards him, he presented his knife, 
 edge upwards, to his advance. What was his surprise to find that 
 in so stooping, he had only evaded a blow upon his bosom, 
 which, from his position, and the direction which the Indian 
 pursued, had he stood, the heels of his foe would certainly have 
 inflicted. 
 
 He saw from this that he must now become the assailant ; par- 
 ticularly as he perceived that his men were successfully pressing 
 upon the enemy in every direction, and that the battle was pro- 
 gressing towards the river, and between it and the Block House. 
 Active as most men, Harrison was also a man of ready decision ; 
 and with the thought came the execution. With a bound he grap- 
 pled the Coosaw, who had not looked for an attack so sudden, and
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 415 
 
 no doubt bad been fatigued by previous eflorts. Harrison drove 
 him back against a tree with all the muscle of an extended arm, 
 and tlm*' forced the combat upon him on his own terms. ]>ut 
 even then the subtlety of the savage did not fail him. He evaded 
 the grasp, and contrived to double once or twice completely under 
 the body of his opponent, until, exasperated by his pertinacity not 
 less than at the agility with which the Indian eluded him, without 
 stooping to where he wriggled like a snake around him, the Eng- 
 lishman leaped upon him with both feet, striking his heel securely 
 down upon the narrow of his sinuous back, and in this way fasten- 
 ing him to the earth. In another instant and the knife would have 
 finished the combat, when the conqueror received a severe blow 
 with a club, upon his shoulder, from some unseen hand, which com 
 pletely staggered him ; and before he could recover, he was con- 
 fronted by another warrior of the Coosaws, crying to him in his 
 own language in the exultation of success deemed secure, and thus 
 cheering his prostrate chief, Chinnabee 
 
 "Coo*ah-moray-te, I drink his blood, 1 tear his throat, I have 
 his scalp I hear his groan Hi-chai ! 'tis a dog for Opitchi- 
 Manneyto !" 
 
 At the cry, his former opponent rose from the ground, not so 
 much injured but that he could recommence the battle. They ad- 
 vanced at the same moment upon the Englishman, though from 
 different quarters. They came upon him with all their subtlety 
 and caution, for the two together could scarce have contended with 
 the superior strength of Harrison. Taking his tree, he prepared 
 for the worst ; and with his left arm so severely paralysed by the 
 blow that he could do little more than throw it up in defence, he 
 yet held a good heart, and while he saw with what malignity the 
 two Coosaws had singled him out, he had hope to meet them indi- 
 vidually by the exercise of some of those adroit arts which he too 
 could employ not less than the savage. But he was spared this 
 trial. The very instant of their simultaneous approach, a gun-shot 
 from the rear brought down the second assailant. The survivor, 
 Ohinnabee, as if exasperated beyond reason at the event, now pre- 
 cipitated himself forward, tomahawk in hand, upon his foe; was 
 foiled by the ready agility which encountered him, put aside, and
 
 416 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 almost in the same instant hurled like a stone to the ground by 
 the now fully aroused Englishman. 
 
 " Coosavv thou art the last chief of thy people. The cunning 
 serpent will die by the Coosah-moray-te, like the rest," said Har- 
 rison, addressing the conquered savage, who "lay motionless, but 
 still alive, at his feet. 
 
 " The Coosah-moray-te will strike. Chiiinabee is the last chief 
 of the Coosaw his people have gone they wait for him with 
 the cry of a bird. Let the pale-face strike. Ah ! ha !" 
 
 The knife was in his heart. Vainly the eyes rolled in a fruit- 
 less anger the teeth fixed for ever, while gnashing in fury, in the 
 death spasm. A short groan a word, seemingly of song and 
 the race of the Coosaws was for ever ended. 
 
 Harrison rose and looked round for the person whose timely shot 
 had saved him from the joint attack of the two warriors. He 
 discovered him advancing in the person of Hector, who, having 
 fastened Dugdale to a sapling, had reloaded the musketoon of his 
 master, and by his intervention at the proper moment, had no 
 doubt preserved his life. Unaccustomed, however, to the use of 
 gunpowder, the black had overcharged the piece, and the recoil 
 had given him a shock which, at the moment, he was certain could 
 not have been a jot less severe than that which it inflicted upon 
 the Coosaw he had slain. His jaws ached, he bitterly alleged, 
 whenever, years after, he detailed the fight with the Yemassee on 
 the banks of the Pocota-ligo. 
 
 " Hector thou hast saved my life," said Harrison, as he came 
 up to him. 
 
 " I berry glad, maussa," was the natural reply. 
 
 " Where's Dugdale ?" - 
 
 " In de tree I hook 'em wid rope, when I load for shoot de 
 Injin." 
 
 " Bring him, and set him loose." 
 
 The black did as he was told, and harking him on the track of 
 the flying Indians, Harrison seized and reloaded his rifle, while 
 Hector possessed himself of a knife and hatchet which he picked 
 up upon the field. They then proceeded hastily to overtake the 
 Carolinians, who, at a little distance, were pressing upon the retreat-
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 417 
 
 ing enemy. Harrison came in time to give his influence and 
 energy where tl.ey were most needed. The flying force was met 
 and strengthened by the party from the Block House, under Ishia 
 gaska and the pirate, and the fight commenced anew a sort of 
 running fight, however, for the Indians grew weary of a contest in 
 which they had n~>ne of those advantages of number or circum- 
 stance which usuaLy encourage them to war ; and so trifling was 
 the force of whites now remaining with them under Chorley, that 
 their presence rather induced despondency than hope. The pirate 
 himself was much discouraged by the nature of the strife, for which 
 lie did not dream that the Carolinians would have been so well 
 prepared ; and the loss which he had sustained, so disproportioued 
 to his force, had not a little exaggerated his discontent. His dis- 
 quiet was destined to find still further increase in the new assault; 
 two more of his men, not so well sheltered as they should have 
 been, or more venturous, having been shot down near a tree imme- 
 .d lately adjoining that behind which he stood; and, though the 
 Indians still continued to fight, he saw that they could not be en- 
 couraged to do so long ; as, even if successful in killing, they had 
 no opportunity of obtaining the scalps of the slain, the best evi- 
 dence whh them of their triumph. The Carolinians still pressed 
 on, their numbers greatly increased by the prea'jnce of several 
 slaves, who, volunteering even against the will of tb^'r masters, had 
 armed themselves with knives or clubs, and, by the'r greater num- 
 bers, held forth a prospect of ultimately hemming in the smaller force 
 of their enemy. This was an ally upon which the Spaniards had 
 largely counted. They had no idea of that gentler form of 
 treatment which, with the Carolinians, won the affections of their 
 serviles ; and, knowing no other principle in their own domestic 
 government than that of fear, and assured of the instability of any 
 confidence built upon such a relationship between the ruler and 
 the serf, they had miscalculated greatly when they addressed their 
 bribes and promises to the negroes, as well as to the Indians of 
 Carolina. But few joined them the greater mincer, volunteer- 
 ing for their owners, were taken actually into the employment of 
 the colony, and subsequently rewarded in proporti( o *** *heir ser- 
 vices and merits. 
 
 18*
 
 418 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 The engagement became a flight. From point to point the 
 Carolinians pursued their enemy Chorley the seaman, and Islii;i 
 gaska, alone endeavouring, by the most ardent effort, to stimulate 
 the courage of their followers, and maintain a show of fight. But 
 in vain. The whites pressed closely upon the heels of the fugitives, 
 who were at length suddenly brought up by a severe fire, directly 
 upon their path, from the concealed party under Grayson. This 
 completed their panic ; and each darting in the direction given 
 him by his fears, sought for individual safety. There was no longer 
 the form of a battle array among them, and the negroes cleared tho 
 woods with their clubs, beating out the brains of those whom they 
 overtook, almost without having any resistance offered them. The 
 day dawned upon the forest, and every step of the route taken by 
 the combatants was designated by blood.
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 " Away, away, I hold thee as my spoil, 
 To bless and cheer me worthy of my toil 
 Let them pursue I have thee, thou art mine, 
 With life to keep, and but with life resign." 
 
 THE night of storm had been one of great brightness and natu- 
 ral beauty. Not less beautiful and bright was the day by which 
 it was followed. The sun rose clearly and beautifully over the 
 scattered bauds of the forest. The Indians were fairly defeated, 
 Ishiagaska slain, and Chorley, the pirate, uninfluenced by any of 
 those feelings of nationality which governed the native red men, 
 which would have prompted him to a desperate risk of his own 
 person in a struggle so utterly unlooked-for, as soon as he saw the 
 final and complete character of the defeat, silently withdrew, with 
 his few remaining followers, from farther conflict. He had anothei 
 care upon his hands besides that of his own safety. There was 
 one reward one spoil with which he consoled himself for his 
 disaster and that was Bess Matthews. She was in his power ! 
 
 Filled with fierce passion, as he thought of her, he took his way, 
 inseen by the victorious Carolinians, towards the little cot on the 
 iver's edge, in which he had left his prisoners. Circumstances 
 bad materially altered from what they were at the time when they 
 became so. He was no longer able to control, with an imposing 
 and superior force, the progress, either of his Indian allies or of his 
 Carolinian enemies. He had not foreseen, -any more than the Yemas- 
 sees, the state of preparation in which the settlers about the Poco- 
 ta-ligo had met the invasion. He had looked to find invasion and 
 conquest one and had never dreamed of opposition, much less of 
 a defence which would prove so completely successful. The ener- 
 gies of a single man, his address, farsightedness, and circumspec- 
 t'on, had done all this. To the perseverance and prudence of Har- 
 rison his devotedness to the cause he had undertaken th
 
 420 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 borderers owed their safety. But of th.a the pirate chief knew 
 nothing ; and, anticipating no such provident management, he had 
 fearlessly leagued himself with the savages, stimulated by passions 
 as sanguinary as theirs, and without that redeeming sense of na- 
 tional character and feeling that genuine love of country which 
 Hot only accounted for, but exculpated the people of whom he was 
 the unworthy ally. But he had lost all that he came for all 
 objects but one. His best followers had fallen victims his hop*) 
 of spoil had in great part been defeated, and though he had shed 
 blood, the quantity was as nothing to one with whom such had 
 been a familiar indulgence. Yet, with a voluptuous appetite, he 
 had won a prize which promised him enjoyment, if it could not 
 compensate his losses. The beautiful Bess Matthews the young, 
 the budding, the sweet. She was in his power a trembling dove 
 in the grasp of the fowler. The thought was as so much fire to 
 his fancy, and he sought the cottage in which he had secured her, 
 with a fierce and feverish thirst a brutal sense at work in his 
 mind stimulating him to an utter disregard of humanity, and 
 prompting the complete violation of all ties of kindred, as he 
 meditated to tear her away from the bosom of her parents. 
 
 About a mile from the hovel in which the family of the pastor 
 was immured lay the guarda-costa. There was an air of bustle on 
 board of her, in the unreefing of sails, and the waving and rustling 
 of her ropes. The tide of battle had alternated from spot to spot 
 along the banks of the river now lost in the density of the forest, 
 and now swelling, with all its clamours, along the bosom of the 
 water. The firing had alarmed all parties, the seamen remaining on 
 board, not less than the old pastor and his timid wife and trem- 
 bling daughter, who, only conscious of the struggle, and not of its 
 results, were filled with a thousand tearful anticipations. 
 
 To Bess Matthews, however, the strife brought with it a promise, 
 since it proved that the Carolinians were prepared, in part at least, 
 for their invaders and many were the fluctuations of hope and 
 fear in her soul, as the gathering clamour' now approached and 
 now receded in the distance. Love taught her that Harrison was 
 the leader making such bold head against the enemy. Love pro- 
 mised her, as the battle dissipated, that, he would come and rescue
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 421 
 
 her from a position in. which she did not well know whether to 
 regard herself as a captive to the seaman, or as one owing him 
 gratitude for her own and the preservation of her family. She re- 
 membered his lustful eye, and insolent speech and gesture, and she 
 trembled as she thought of him True, her father knew him in his 
 boyhood, but his account of him was rather tolerant than favoura 
 ble ; and the subsequent life and conduct of the licentious rover 
 not to speak of the suspicions openly entertained of his true cha- 
 racter by her lover all taught her to fear the protection which he 
 had given, and to dread, while she seemed to anticipate, the price 
 of it. 
 
 She had no long time for doubt, and but little for deliberation. 
 He came bloody with conflict covered with dust, blackened 
 with gunpowder the fierce flame of war in his eye, and in his 
 hand the bared weapon, streaked with fresh stains, which he had 
 only in part wiped away, with a handful of moss gathered from tho 
 trees. There was nothing encouraging in his aspect nothing 
 now of conciliation in his deportment. His manner was impatient 
 and stern, as, without addressing either of his captives, he called 
 aside and gave directions to his seamen. The pastor craved his 
 attention, but he waved his hand impatiently, nor turned to him 
 for an instant, until he had despatched two of his men to the edge 
 of the stream, where, well concealed by the shrubbery upon its 
 banks, lay the small boat of the vessel, which had been carefully 
 placed there by his orders. They gave him a shrill whistle as they 
 reached it, which he immediately returned then approaching the 
 pastor, he scrupled not an instant in the development of the foul 
 design which he had all along meditated. 
 
 " Hark ye, Matthews this is no place for us now I can't pro- 
 tect ye any longer. I hav'n't the men they are cut up slashed 
 dead eleven of the finest fellows best men of my vessel by 
 this time, without a scalp among them. I have done my best to 
 save you, but it's all over, and there's but one way you must go 
 with us on board." 
 
 " How, Chorley go w Uh you and wherefore 1 I cannot I 
 will not." 
 
 " What, will not ? Oh ho ! Do you suppose I am the man to
 
 422 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 listen to sucb an answer ? No ! no ! I'll take care of you whethei 
 you will or no ! Do you think I'll let you stay to lose your scalps, 
 and this sweet darling here ? No, by my soul, I were no man tc 
 suffer it. You shall go." 
 
 " What mean you, Chorley ? Are the savages successful have 
 they defeated our men 3 And you wherefore do you fly how 
 have you fought with us for our people ?" 
 
 The old pastor, half bewildered, urged these questions incohe- 
 rently, but yet with su ih directness of aim as almost to bewilder 
 the person he addresst d, who could not well answer them ; even 
 if he cared to do so. How, as the pastor argued with himself, 
 how, if the Yemassees have defeated the Carolinians how was it 
 that Chorley, who had evidently been their ally, could not exert 
 his power and protect them ? and, on the other hand, if the Caro- 
 linians had been the victors, wherefore should he and his family 
 fly from their own people ? Unable well to meet these proposi- 
 tions, the native fierce impetuosity of the pirate came to his relief, 
 and throwing aside entirely the conciliatory manner of his first 
 address, he proceeded in a style more congenial with his true cha- 
 racter. 
 
 " Shall I stay aV day disputing with you about this nonsense ? 
 I tell you, you shall go, whether you will or not. Look you, I 
 have the power look at these men can you withstand them ? 
 In a word, they force you to the ship, and all your talking ay, 
 and all your struggling will help you nothing. Come away." 
 
 " Never never ! Oh ! father, let us die first 1" was the invo- 
 luntary exclamation of the maiden, convulsively clinging to the old 
 man's arm as the ruffian took a step towards her. 
 
 " Captain Chorley, I cannot think you mean this violence !" said 
 the old man with dignity. 
 
 " May I be d d," said he fiercely, " but I do ! Violence, in- 
 deed ! violence is my life, my business ! What, old man, shall 
 I leave you here to be made mincemeat of by the Indians ? No, 
 no ! I love you and your pretty daughter too well for that. Come, 
 Bweetheart, don't be shy what! do you fear me then ?" 
 
 " Touch me not touch me not with your bloody hands. Away ! I 
 will not go strike me dead first strike me dead, but I will not go."
 
 THE fEMASSEE. 423 
 
 " But you shall ! What ! think you I am a child to be put off 
 with great words and passionate speeches ! What, ho ! there, boys 
 --do as I have told you." 
 
 In a moment, the pastor and his child were torn asunder. 
 
 " Father-^help help ! I lose thee mother father Gabriel !" 
 
 '" Villain, release me give me back my child. Undo your hold 
 you shall suffer for this. Ha ! ha ! ha ! they come they come ! 
 Hurry, hurry, my people. Here here we are here they tear 
 away my child. Where are you oh, Harrison, but come now 
 come now, and she is yours only save her from the hands of 
 this fierce ruffian. God be praised ! They come they come !'' 
 
 They did come the broad glare of sunlight on the edge of the 
 forest was darkened by approaching shadows. A shot another 
 and another was heard and the fugitives, who were Indians flying 
 from the pursuing Carolinians, rushed forward headlong; but as 
 they saw the group of whites on the river's brink, thinking them 
 new enemies, they darted aside, and taking another route, buried 
 themselves iii the forest, out of sight, just as their pursuers came 
 forth upon the scene. A single glance of Bess Matthews, as the 
 ruffian suddenly seized upon and bore her to the boat, distinguished 
 the manly form of her lover darting out of the thicket and di- 
 rectly upon the path approaching them. That glance gave her 
 IH-W hope new courage new strength ! She shrieked to him in 
 a voice delirious with terror and hope, as the pirate, bearing her 
 like an infant in his powerful grasp, strode into the boat, and bade 
 the seamen who manned it, push off, and pull away with all their 
 \ iu-our. 
 
 " Come to me, Gabriel save me, save me, or I perish. It is I 
 thy own Bess ever thine save me, save me." 
 
 She fell back fainting with exhaustion and excitement, and lay 
 nerveless and almost senseless in the arms of her abductor. He 
 sustained her with perfect ease with one arm, upon his bosom, 
 while standing erect, for the boat scarce permitted him with his 
 burden to do otherwise, he placed his foot upon the slender rudder 
 and guided its progress, his men looking round occasionally and 
 suggesting the course of the vessel. In this way he kept his 
 eye upon shore, and beheld the progress of events in that quarter.
 
 4:24 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 The cries of his betrothed had taught Harrison the condition 
 of affairs. He saw her precarious situation at a glance, and, rush- 
 ing down to the beach, followed by his men, the seamen fled along 
 the banks higher up the river, and were soon out of sight, leaving 
 the old pastor and his wife free. The scene before him was too 
 imposing in the eye of Harrison to permit of his giving the fugi- 
 tives a thought. But the pastor, now free from restraint, with a 
 speechless agony, rushed forward and clasping his arm, pointed 
 with his finger to the form of his daughter, hanging like a broken 
 flower, supine and almost senseless, upon the shoulder of her Her- 
 culean captor. The action of Harrison was immediate, and in a 
 moment, the rifle was lifted to his shoulder, his eye ranging upon 
 the sight, and singling out the exposed breast of the pirate, which 
 ^ lay uncovered, but just alongside of the drooping head of the mai- 
 % den. As the seaman saw the movement, he changed her position 
 she saw it too, and lifting her hand, placed it, with an emphasis 
 not to be mistaken, upon her heart. The old pastor, terrified by 
 what he saw, again seized Harrison by the arm, and cried to him 
 convulsively, while the tears trickled down his cheeks 
 
 " Stay thy hand stay thy hand shoot not ; rather let me lose 
 her, but let her live thou wilt slay her, thou wilt slay my child 
 my own, my only child," and he tottered like an infant in his deep 
 agony. 
 
 " Away, old man give me room away !" and with the words, 
 with unscrupulous strength, Harrison hurled him from him upon 
 the sands. Without a pause the fearful instrument was again up- 
 lifted the aim was taken, his finger rested on the trigger, but 
 his heart sickened his head swam his eyes grew blind and dizzy 
 ere he drew it ; and with a shiver of convulsion, he let the weapon 
 descend heavily to the ground. 
 
 The weakness was only momentary. A faint scream came to 
 his ears over the water, and brought back with it all his strength. 
 The maiden had watched closely all his motions, and the last had 
 given her energy somewhat to direct them. That scream aroused 
 him. He resumed his position and aim ; and, fixing the >ight 
 upon that part of the bosom of his enemy least concealed, nerved 
 himself to all the hazard, and resolutely drew the trigger, .he
 
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 425 
 
 effect was instantaneous. The next instant the maiden was seen 
 released from the pirate's grasp and sinking down in the bottom 
 of the boat, while he stood erect. The venerable pastor fainted, 
 while, on her knees, his aged wife bent over him in silent prayer. 
 
 That moment was more than death to Harrison ; but what was 
 his emotion of delight when, at the next, he beheld the pirate, like 
 some gigantic tree that has kept itself erect by its own exceeding 
 weight, fall, like a tower, headlong, over the side of- the boat, stiff 
 and rigid, and without a struggle, sink deeply and silently down 
 beneath the overdosing waters. But a new danger awaited the 
 maiden ; for in his fall, destroying the equipoise of the skiiT, its 
 entire contents were, at the next instant, precipitated into the 
 stream ; and while the two seamen, unhurt, struck off towards the 
 vessel, the maiden lay in sight, sustained above the surface only by 
 the buoyancy of her dress, and without exhibiting any other mo- 
 tion. A dozen sinewy arms from the shore at once struck tlie 
 water, but which of all, nerved as he was by the highest stimulant 
 of man's nature, could leave the fearless Harrison behind him ? On 
 he dashes on on now he nears her, another moment and she 
 is saved ; but while every eye was fixed as with a spell upon the 
 prospect with an anxiety inexpressible, the sullen waters went over 
 ler, and a universal cry of horror arose from the shore. But she 
 rose again in an instant, and with a show of consciousness, stretch- 
 ing out her hand, the name of " Gabriel," in a tone of imploring 
 love, reached the ears of her lover. That tone, that word, was 
 enough, and the next moment found her insensible in his arms. 
 She was a child in his grasp, for the strength of his fearless and 
 passionate spirit, not less than of his native vigour, was active to 
 save her. 
 
 " Help help," was his cry to the rest, and to the shore ; he 
 sustained her till it came. It was not long ere she lay in the arms 
 of her parents, whose mutual tears and congratulations came 
 sweetly, along with their free consent, to make her preserver happy 
 with the hand hitherto denied him.
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 ' Another stroke for triumph. It goe* well, 
 The foe gives back he yields. Another hour 
 Beholds us on his neck." 
 
 HARRISON thus blessed with happiness, appropriated but little 
 time, however, to its enjoyment. His mind was of that active sort, 
 that even the sweets of love were to be enjoyed by him as a 
 stimulant, rather than a clog to exertion. Conveying the little 
 family to a recess in the woods, and out of sight of the craft of the 
 pirate, he immediately proceeded having first led the foresters 
 aside to explain his further desires to them in reference to their 
 common duties. 
 
 " Joy, my brave fellows, and thanks to you, for this last night's 
 good service. You have done well, and risked yourselves nobly. 
 Gray son, give me your hand you are a good soldier. Where's 
 your brother ?" 
 
 " Here !" was the single word of response spoken from the back- 
 ground by the lips of Hugh Grayson. The tone of the monosyl- 
 lable was melancholy, but not sullen. Harrison advanced to him, 
 and extended his hand. 
 
 " Master Grayson, to you we owe most of our safety to-day. But 
 for you, the sun would have found few of us with a scalp on. Your 
 activity in bringing up the men has saved us ; for, though 
 otherwise safe enough, the firing of the Block House must have 
 been fatal to all within. For myself, I may freely acknowledge, 
 my life, at this moment, is due to your timely appearance. Your 
 command, too, was excellently managed for so young a soldier. 
 Accept my thanks, sir, in behalf of the country not less than of 
 myself. I shall speak to you again on this subject, and in regard 
 to other services in which your aid will be required, after a while." 
 
 The youth looked upon Harrison with a degree of surprise, 
 which prevented him from making any adequate answer. Whence
 
 THE YEMASSBE. 427 
 
 came that air of conscious superiority in the speaker that tone of 
 command of a power unquestionable, and held as if born with it 
 in his possession ? The manner of Harrison had all the ease and 
 loftiness of a prince ; and, scarcely less than the crowd around him, 
 the proud-spirited youth felt a degree of respectful awe stealing 
 over him, of which he began to grow ashamed. But, before he 
 could recover, in time to exhibit any of that rash and imperious 
 isticity which the lowlier born of strong native mind is so apt to 
 &i^ in the presence of the conventional superior, the speaker had 
 again addressed the crowd. 
 
 " And you, men, you have all done well for the country, and it 
 owes you its gratitude." 
 
 " Ay, that it does, captain," said Nichols, advancing " that it 
 does. We have stood by her in the hour of her need. We have 
 resisted the approach of the bloody invader, and with liberty or 
 death for our motto, we have rushed to the conflict, sir, defying 
 consequences." 
 
 " Ah, Nichols you are welcome, both in what you have done 
 and what you have said. I might have known that the country 
 was safe in your hands, knowing as I do your general sentiments 
 on the subject of the liberties of the people. Grauville county, 
 Nichols, must make you her representative after this, and I'm sure 
 
 She Will." 
 
 The speaker smiled sarcastically as he spoke, but Nichols had 
 an easy faith, and was modestly content with a surface compliment, 
 and never laboured to discover the occult adverse signification 
 which it might conceal. He was wise after the usual fashion of 
 the demagogue, and with great regard to proprieties of character, 
 hu replied in a speech. 
 
 " Ah, captain, 'twere an honour ; and could my fellow-coun- 
 trymen be persuaded to look upon me with your eyes, proud would 
 1 be to stand up for their rights, and with the thunders of my 
 voice, compel that justice from the Assembly which, in denying 
 representation to all dissenters, they have most widely- departed 
 from. Ay, captain fellow-citizens permit me to address you 
 now upon a few topics most important to your own liberties, and 
 to the common benefit of humanity. My voice "
 
 428 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Must just at this moment be unheard," interrupted Harrison ; 
 " we have need of other thunders now. Hear me, gentlemen; for 
 this I have called you together. . I want from among you thirty 
 volunteers hardy, whole-souled fellows, who do not count heads 
 in a scuffle. The enterprise is dangerous, and must be executed 
 very dangerous I say and I beg that none may offer but those 
 who are perfectly ready at any moment to use the words of Dr. 
 Nichols to die for the country. The doctor himself, however, 
 must not go, as he is too important to us in his surgical capacity." 
 
 Nichols, well pleased with the exception thus made, was not 
 however willing to appear so, and, glad of the opportunity, could 
 not forbear making something of a popular hit. 
 
 " How, captain this may not be. I am not one of those, sir, 
 altogether content to be denied the privilege of dying for my 
 country when occasion calls for it. Let me go on this service; I 
 insist. I am one of the people, and will forego none of their 
 dangers." 
 
 " Oh, well, if you insist upon it, of course I can say nothing 
 we hold you pledged, therefore. There are now three of us 
 Master Hugh Grayson, I presume to place you, as one with myself 
 and Dr. Nichols, volunteering upon this service. I understand 
 you so." 
 
 The high compliment, and the delicate manner in which it was 
 conveyed, totally disarmed young Grayson, who, softened con- 
 siderably by the proceeding, bowed his head in assent, approaching 
 by degrees to where Harrison stood. Nichols, on the other hand, 
 had not contemplated so easily getting the permission which he 
 called for, and, well knowing his man, Harrison barely gave it, as 
 he foresaw it would not be long before he would assume new 
 ground, which would bring about a ready evasion of his responsi- 
 bility. The elder Grayson meanwhile volunteered also, followed 
 by several others, and in a little time the required number was 
 almost complete. But the surgeon now demanded to know the 
 nature of the service. 
 
 "What matters it, doctor it is an honourable, because a 
 dangerous service. You shall know in time." 
 
 " That does not suit me, captain. What, shall I suffer myself
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 429 
 
 to be led blindfold upon a duty, the propriety of which may 
 be doubtful, not less than the policy ? Sir I object upon prin- 
 ciple." 
 
 " Principle indeed, doctor," said Harrison, smiling. " Why, 
 what in the name of pounds and shillings has principle to do in 
 this business ?" 
 
 " Enough, sir the rights of man of the people of the country, 
 are all involved. Do I not, sir, in thus volunteering upon a service 
 rf which I know nothing, put myself under the control of one who 
 may make me a traitor to my country, a defier of the laws, and 
 probably a murderer of my fellow-man ? Sir, what security have 
 I of the morality and the lawfulness of your proceeding ?" 
 
 "Very true you are right, and such being your opinions, I 
 thir k you would err greatly to volunteer in this business,'' was the 
 gra 'e response of Harrison. 
 
 " Ah, I knew you would agree with me, captain I knew it," 
 er-',d the doctor, triumphantly. 
 
 " I want another man or two we are something short." 
 
 As the leader spoke Hector came forward, his head hanging on 
 o/je shoulder, as if he feared rebuff for his presumption, in the 
 unlooked-for proffer of service which he now made. 
 
 " Maussa you let Hector go, he glad too much. He no want 
 stay here wid de doctor and de 'omans." 
 
 His reference to the demagogue, accompanied as it was with an 
 ill-concealed chuckle of contempt, provoked the laughter of the 
 crowd ; and observing that the greater number looked favourably 
 upon the proposal of the negro, Harrison consented. 
 
 " You will knock a Spaniard on the head, sir, if I bid you ?" 
 
 " Yes, tnaussa, and scalp 'em too, jist like dem Injin." 
 
 "You shall go." 
 
 " Tankee dat's a good maussa. Hello, da " and perfectly over- 
 joyed, he broke out with a stanza of negro minstrelsy, common, even 
 now, to the slaves of Carolina 
 
 " He come rain he ctime shine, 
 
 Hab a good maussa, who da care? 
 De black is de white and de white Is de black, 
 Hab a good maussa, who da care \
 
 430 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 But look out, nigger, when missis come 
 Hah ! den de wedder will alter some 
 If she cross, Oh 1 who for say, 
 You ebber again see sunshine day ?" 
 
 How long Hector might have gone on with his uncouth, and, so 
 far as the sex is interested, ungallant minstrelsy, may not well be 
 said ; but, seeing its direction, his master silenced it in a sufficiently 
 potent manner. 
 
 " Be still, sirrah, or you shall feed on hickory." 
 
 " No hab 'tomach tor 'em, naaussa. I dumb." 
 
 "'Tis well. Now, men, see to your weapons hatchets and 
 knives for all we shall need little else, but fearless hearts and strong 
 hands. Our purpose is to seize upon that pirate vessel in the 
 river." 
 
 The men started with one accord. 
 
 " Ay, no less. It's a perilous service, but not so perilous as it ap 
 pears. I happen to know that there are now not two men on board 
 of the vessel accustomed to the management of the guns not 
 fifteen on board in all. Granger has got us boats in plenty, and I 
 have conceived a plan by which we shall attack her on all points. 
 Something of our success will depend upon their consciousness of 
 weakness. They are without a commander, and their men, accus- 
 tomed to fighting, are in our woods dead or running, and in no 
 ability to serve them. The show of numbers, and ten or a dozen 
 boats with stout men approaching them, will do much with their 
 fears. We shall thus board them with advantage ; and though I 
 hope not to escape with all of us unhurt, I am persuaded we shall 
 be successful without much loss. Master Hugh Grayson will com- 
 mand three of the boats, Master Walter Grayson three others, and 
 the rest will be with me. You have now heard. If, like the doctor 
 here, any of you object to proceeding, on principle, against tliis 
 pirate who has sought the destruction of our people, well and good 
 they are at liberty to withdraw, and we shall look for other men 
 less scrupulous. Who is ready ?" 
 
 The confident, almost careless manner of the speaker, was of 
 more effect than his language. The cry was unanimous : 
 
 " Lead on we are all ready."
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 431 
 
 " I thank you, my merry men, and old England for ever ! Master 
 Hugh Grayson, and you, friend Walter, let us counsel here a 
 moment." 
 
 He led them aside, and together they matured the plan of attack. 
 Then leaving them to parcel off the men, Harrison stole away for 
 a few moments into the silent grove where the pastor's family was 
 sheltered. As we have no business there, we can only conjecture 
 the motive of his visit. A press of the hand from the beloved one 
 were much to one about to go upon an a iventure of life and death. 
 He returned in a few moments with increased alacrity, and led the 
 way to the boats, eleven in number, which Granger in the mean- 
 time had selected from those employed by the Indians in crossing 
 the preceding night. They were small, but sufficiently large for. 
 the men allotted to each. In their diminutiveness, too, lay much of 
 their safety from the great guns of the vessel. 
 
 Leading the way, the boat of Harrison, followed by those in his 
 charge, .shot ahead of the rest, bearing down full upon the broad- 
 side of the pirate. This was the most dangerous point of approach. 
 The two Graysons led their separate forces, the one to reach the 
 opposite side, the other at the stern lights, in order that the attack 
 should be simultaneous at all vulnerable places. In this manner 
 the several boats covered the various assailable points of the vessel , 
 /id necessarily, by dividing their force for the protection of each 
 quarter, weakened the capacity of the seamen to contend with 
 t hem. 
 
 The pirate lay at about a mile and a half below them upon" the 
 river her form in perfect repose and even weaker in her force 
 than Harrison had conjectured. Bewildered with his situation, 
 and unaccustomed to command, the inferior officer, left in tempo- 
 rary charge of her by Chorley, had done nothing, and indeed could 
 do nothing, towards the defence of his vessel. The few men left 
 with him had become refractory ; and, with the reputed reckless- 
 ness of men in their way of life, had proceeded, during the ab- 
 sence of Chorley, whom' they feared rather than respected, to all 
 manner of excess. Liquor, freely distributed by the commanding 
 officer, with the hope to pacify, had only the effect of stimulating 
 their violence; and the approach of the assailing party, magnified
 
 432 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 by their fears and excesses, found them without energy to resist, 
 and scarcely ability to fly. The lieutenant did indeed endeavour 
 to bring them to some order and show of defence. With his own 
 hand he rigged up a gun, which he pointed among the approach- 
 ing boats. The scattering and whizzing shot would have been 
 fatal, had the aim been better ; but apprehension and excitement 
 had disturbed too greatly the mental equilibrium of officer and 
 men alike; and, not anticipating such a result to their adventure, 
 and having no thought themselves of being attacked, where they 
 had come to be assailants, they fell into a panic from which they 
 did not seek to recover. The failure of the shot to injure their 
 enemies completed their apprehension ; and as the little squadron 
 of Harrison continued to approach, without fear and without ob- 
 struction, the refractory seamen let down their own boats in the 
 direction of the opposite shore, and, so considerably in advance of 
 the Carolinians as to defy pursuit, were seen by them pulling with 
 all industry towards the Indian country. A single man, the lieu- 
 tenant, appeared on board for a few moments after they had left 
 the vessel ; but whether he remained from choice, or that they re- 
 fused to take him with them, was at that time a mystery to the 
 assailing party. His design may be guessed at in the sequel. 
 
 Despatching the Graysons in pursuit of the flying pirates, whose- 
 number did not exceed ten men, Harrison brought his boat along- 
 side the vessel, and resolutely leaped on board. But where wa 
 the lieutenant he had seen but a few minutes before ? He called 
 aloud, and traversed the deck in search of him, but in vain. He 
 was about to descend to the cabin, when he felt himself suddenly 
 seized upon by Hector, who, with looks of excited terror, dragged 
 Lim forward to the side of the vessel, and with a directing finger 
 and a single word, developed their full danger to his master. 
 
 " Maussa de ship da burn look at de smoke jump, maussa, 
 for dear life jump in de water." It needed no second word 
 they sprang over the side of the vessel at the same instant that an 
 immense body of dense sulphureous vapour ascended from below 
 The river received them, for their boat had been pushed off, with 
 a proper precaution, to a little distance. Ere they were taken up, 
 vhe catastrophe \yas over the explosion had taken place, and the
 
 THE FEMASSEE. 433 
 
 sky was blackened with the smoke and fragments of the vessel 
 upon which, but a few moments before, they had stood in perfect 
 safety. But where was the lieutenant? where? He had been 
 precipitate in his application of the match, and his desperation 
 found but a single victim in himself 1 
 
 19
 
 CHAPTER Li. 
 
 * It u the sttry's picture we must group, 
 So that the eye may see what the quick mind 
 Hath chron: -led before. Th'e painter's art 
 Is twin unto the poet's both were born, 
 That truth might have atone of melody, 
 And fancy shape her motion into grace." 
 
 A MOTLEY assemblage gathered at the Chief's Bluff, upon the 
 banks of the Pocota-ligo, at an early hour OP tlie day so full of 
 incident. A fine day after so foul a promise the. sun streamed 
 brightly, and the skies without a cloud looked down peacefully 
 over the settlement. But there was little sympathy among the 
 minds of the borderers with such a prospect. They had suffered 
 quite too much, and their sufferings were quite too fresh in their 
 minds, properly to feel it. Worn out with fatigue, and not yet 
 recovered from their trials and terrors -now struggling onward 
 with great effort, and now borne in the arms of the more able- 
 bodied among the men came forward the women and children 
 who had been sheltered in the Block House. That structure was 
 now in ashes so indeed, generally speaking, were all the dwell- 
 ings between that point and Pocota-ligo. Below the former-point, 
 however thanks to the manful courage and ready appearance of 
 Hugh Grayson with the troop he had brought up the horrors of 
 the war had not extended. But, in all other quarters, the insur- 
 rection had been successful. Far and wide, scattering themselves 
 in bands over every other part of the colony, the Yemassees and 
 their numerous allies were carrying the terrors of their anus 
 through the unprepared and unprotected settlement, down to the 
 very gates of Charleston the chief town and principal rallying 
 point of the Carolinians ; and there the inhabitants were literally 
 walled in, unable to escape unless by s^a, and then, only from the 
 country. But this belongs elsewhere. The group now assembled
 
 TIIE YEMASSEE. , 435 
 
 upon the banks of the Pocota-ligo, absorbed as they were in their 
 own grievances, had not thought of the conditiou of their neigh- 
 hours. The straits and sufferings of the other settlements were 
 utterly unimagined by them generally. But one person of all the 
 group properly conjectured the extent of the insurrection that 
 was Harrison. He had been a part witness to the league had 
 counted the various tribes represented in that gloomy dance of 
 death the club and scalp-dance the rites of demoniac concep- 
 tion and origin ; and he felt that the very escape of the people 
 around him only arose from the concentration of the greater force 
 of the savages upon the more populous settlements of the Caro- 
 linians. Full of satisfaction that so many had been saved, his 
 mind was yet crowded with the thousand apprehensions that came 
 with his knowledge of the greater danger to which the rest of the 
 colony was exposed. He knew the strong body commanded by 
 Sanutee to be gone in the direction of the Ashley river settlement. 
 He knew that a force of Spaniards was expected to join them from 
 St. Augustine ; but whether by sea or land was yet to be deter- 
 mined. He felt the uncertainty of his position, and how doubt- 
 ful was the condition of the province under such an array of ene- 
 mies ; but, with a mind still cheerful, he gave his orders for the 
 immediate remove, by water, to the city ; and, having completed his 
 preparations as well as he might, and while the subordinates wero 
 busied in procuring boats, he gave himself for a brief time to the 
 family of Bess Matthews. 
 
 Long and sweet was the murmuring conversation carried on be- 
 tween the lovers. Like a stream relieved from the pressure of the 
 ice, her affections now poured themselves freely into his. The con- 
 sent of her father had been given, even if his scruples had not 
 been withdrawn ; and that was enough. Her hand rested in the 
 clasp of his, and the unrebuking eyes of the old Puritan gave it a 
 sufficient sanction. Matthews may have sought, in what he then 
 said, to satisfy himself of the necessity for his consent, if he had 
 failed to satisfy his conscience. 
 
 " She is yours, Captain Harrison she is yours ! But for you, 
 but for you, God knows, and I dread to think, what would have 
 been her fate in the hands of th* bad man. Bad from his cradle;
 
 436 . THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 for I knew him from that time, and knew that, mischief then, and 
 crime when he grew older, were his familiar playmates, and hia 
 most companionable thoughts." 
 
 " You were slow in discovering it, sir," was the reply of Harri- 
 son " certainly slow in acknowledging it to me." 
 
 " I had a hope, Master Harrison, that he had grown a wiser and 
 a better man, and was therefore unwilling to mortify him with the 
 recollection of the past, and to make it public to his ill-being. 
 But let us speak of him no more. There are other topics far more 
 grateful in the recollection of our escape from this dreadful nii>'lit ; 
 and long and fervent should be our prayers to the benevolent Pro- 
 vidence who has had us so affectionately in his care. But what 
 now are we to do, Captain Harrison what is our hope of safety, 
 and where are we to go ?" 
 
 " I have thought of all this, sir. There is but one course for us, 
 and that is to place the young and feeble safely in Charleston. 
 There is no safety short of that point." 
 
 " How not at Port Royal Island ?" 
 
 " No ! not even there we shall be compelled to hurry past it 
 now as rapidly as possible in our way to the place of refuge the 
 only place that can now certainly be considered such." 
 
 " What shall we go by water P 
 
 u There is no other way. By this time, scarce a mile of wood 
 between Pocota-ligo and Charleston itself but is filled by savages. 
 I saw the force last night, and that with which we contended was 
 nothing to the numbers pledged in this insurrection. They did not 
 look for resistance here, and hence the smallness of their numbers 
 in this quarter." 
 
 " And to your wise precautions, Master Harrison, we owe all this. 
 How unjust I have been to you, sir !" 
 
 " Speak not of it, Master Matthews you have more than atoned 
 in the rich possession which I now hold. Ah, Bess ! I see you 
 look for the promised secret. Well, it shall be told. But stay 1 
 have a duty. Pardon me a while." 
 
 He rose as he spoke, and made a signal to Hector, who now 
 came forward with the dog Dugdale, which had been wounded 
 with an arrow in the side, not seriously, but painfully, as was evi-
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 437 
 
 ikiit from the writhings and occasional meanings of the animal, 
 while Hector busied himself plastering the wound with, the resin- 
 ous gum of the pine-tree. 
 
 " Hector," said his master, as he approached "give me Dug- 
 dale. Henceforward I shall take care of him myself." 
 
 " Sa ! maussa," exclaimed the negro, with an expression almost 
 of terrified amazement in his countenance. 
 
 u Yes, Hector, you are now free. I give you your freedom, old 
 fellow. Here is money, too, and in Charleston you shall have a 
 house to live in for yourself." 
 
 " No, maussa ; I can't go ; I can't be free," replied the negro, 
 shaking his head, and endeavouring to resume possession of the 
 strong cord which secured the dog, and which Harrison had taken 
 into his own hand. 
 
 " Why can't you, Hector ? What do you mean ? Am I not 
 your master ? Can't I make you free, and don't I tell you that 
 I do make you free ? From this moment you are your own 
 master." 
 
 " Wha' for, maussa ? Wha' Hector done, you guine turn um 
 off dis time o' day ?" 
 
 " Done ! You have saved my life, old fellow you have fought 
 fur me like a friend, and I am now your friend, and not any longer 
 your master." 
 
 " Ki, maussa ! enty you always been frien' to Hector ! Enty 
 you gib um physic when he sick, and come see and talk wid um, 
 and do ebbery ting he want you for do ! What more you guine 
 do, now ?" 
 
 " Yes, Hector, I have done for you all this but I have done it 
 because you were my slave, and because I was bound to do it." 
 
 " Ah, you no want to be boun' any longer. Da's it ! I see. 
 You want Hector for eat acorn wid de hog, and take de swamp 
 wid de Injin, enty?" 
 
 " Not so, old fellow but I cannot call you my slave when I 
 would call you my friend. I shall get another slave to carry Dug- 
 dale, and you shall be free." 
 
 " I d n to h 11, maussa, ef I guine to be free !" roared the 
 adhesive black, in a tone of unrestraiuable determination. " I can'1
 
 4:38 THE YEMA8SEB. 
 
 loss you company, and who de debble Dugdale guiHe let feed him 
 like Hector ? 'Tis onpossible, maussa, and dere's no use for talk 
 'bout it. De ting aint right ; and enty I know wha' kind of ting 
 freedom is wid black man ? Ha ! you make Hector free, he turn 
 wuss more nor p<or buckrah he tief out of de shop he git drunk 
 and lie in de ditch den, if sick come, he roll, he toss in de wet 
 grass of de stable. You come in de morning, Hector dead and, 
 who know he no take physic, he no hab parson who know, I 
 say, maussa, but de debble fine em 'fore anybody else ? No, 
 : maussa you and Dugdale berry good company for Hector. I 
 tank God he so good I no want any better." 
 
 The negro's objections to the boon of liberty, with which he so 
 little knew what to do, were not to be overcome ; and his master, 
 deeply affected with this evidence of his attachment, turned away 
 in silence, offering no further obstruction to the desperate hold 
 which Hector again took of the wounded Dugdale. Approaching 
 the little group from which, but a few moments before, he had 
 parted, he stood up in earnest conversation with the pastor, while 
 the hand of Bess, in confiding happiness and innocence, was suf- 
 fered to rest passively in his own. It was a moment of delirious 
 rapture to both parties. But there was one who stood apart, yet 
 surveying the scene, to whom it brought a pang little short of 
 agony. This was the younger Grayson. Tears started to his eyes 
 as he beheld the happy party, and he turned away from the group 
 in a suffering anguish, that, for the moment, brought back those 
 sterner feelings which he had hitherto so well suppressed. The eye 
 of JUtrrison caught the movement, and readily divined its cause. 
 Calling Granger to him, he demanded from him a small packet 
 which he had intrusted to his care on leaving the Block House for 
 J'ocota-ligo the evening before. The question disturbed the 
 trader not a little, who, at length, frankly confessed he had mis- 
 laid it. 
 
 " Say not so, man ! think ! that packet is of value, and holds 
 the last treaty of the colony with the Queen of St. Helena, and 
 the Oassique of Combahee not to speak of private despatches, set 
 against which thy worthless life would have rio value ! Look, man, 
 RS thou lovest thy quiet !"
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 439 
 
 " It is here, sir all in safety, as thou gavest it him," said the 
 wife of thfc trader, coming forward. " In the hurry of the fight 
 be gave it me for safe keeping, though too much worried to think 
 afterwards rf the trust." 
 
 " Thou art a strong-minded woman and 'tis well for Granger 
 that such as thou hast him in charge. Take my thanks for thy 
 discharge of duties self-assumed, and not assigned thee. Thou 
 shall be remembered." 
 
 Possessing himself of the packet, he approached Hugh Grayson, 
 who stood sullenly apart, and drawing from its folds a broad sheet 
 of parchment, he thus addressed him : 
 
 " Master Grayson, the colony owes thee thanks for thy good 
 service, and would have more from thee. I know not one in whom, 
 at such a time, its proprietary lords can better confide, in this con- 
 test, than in thee. Thou hast courage, enterprise, and conduct 
 art not too rash, nor yet too sluggish but, to my poor mind, thou 
 combinest happily all the materials which should ma!;e a good 
 captain. Thou hast a little mistaken me in some things, and, per- 
 haps, thou hast something erred in estimating thyself. But thou 
 art young, and responsibility makes the man nothing like respon- 
 sibility ! So thinking, and with a frank speech, I beg of thee to 
 accept this commission. It confers on thee all military command 
 in this county of Granville, to pursue the enemies of the colony 
 with fire and sword to control its people for the purposes of war 
 in dangerous times like the present and to do, so long as this 
 insurrection shall continue, whatever may seem wise to thy mind, 
 for the proprietors and for the people, as if they had spoken 
 through thy own mouth. Is the trust agreeable to thee ?" 
 
 " Who art thou ?" was the surprised response of the youth, look- 
 ing a degree of astonishment, corresponding with that upon the 
 faces of all around, to whom the speaker had hitherto only been 
 known as Gabriel Harrison. 
 
 "True let me answer that question. The reply belongs to 
 more than one. Bess, dearest, thou shalt now be satisfied ; but in 
 learning my secret, thou losest thy lover. Know, then, thou hast 
 Gabriel Harrison no longer ! My true name is Charles Craven !" 
 
 " The Governor '" faltered Gravson.
 
 440 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 " Ha ! what !" exclaimed the pastor. 
 
 " The Governor" roared Nichols " the Governor, nimself the 
 Lord Palatine of Carolina !" 
 
 Bess Matthews only murmured u Oh ! Gabriel !" as she sank, 
 with her heart full of silent happiness, into the arms of her lover. 
 Meanwhile, the loud and joyful shout of all around attested the 
 gratification with which the people recognised, in an old acquaint- 
 ance, the most popular governor of the Carolinas, under tlic lords- 
 proprietors, whom the Carolinians ever had. 
 
 " I take your commission, my lord," replied Grayson, with a de- 
 gree of firm manliness, superseding his gloomy expression and 
 clearing it away " I take it, sir, and will proceed at once to the 
 execution of its duties. Your present suggestions, sir, will be of 
 value." 
 
 " You shall have them, Master Grayson. in few words," was the 
 reply of the Palatine. " It will be your plan to move down with 
 your present force along the river, taking with you, as you proceed, 
 all the settlers, so as to secure their safety. Your point of rest and 
 defence will be the fort at Port Royal, which now lacks most of its 
 garrison from the draught made on it by my orders to Bellinger, 
 and which gave you command of the brave men you brought up 
 last night. I shall be at Port Royal before you, and will do what 
 I may there, in the meanwhile, towards its preparation, whether 
 for friend or foe. With your present force, and what I shall send 
 you on my arrival at Charleston, you will be adequate to its 
 defence." 
 
 " Ahem, ahem ! My lord," cried Nichols, awkwardly approach- 
 ing " My lord, permit me, with all due humility, to suggest that 
 the duties so assigned Master Grayson are heavy upon such young 
 hands. Ahem ! my lord it is not now that I have to say that 
 I have never yet shrunk from the service of the people. I 
 would " 
 
 " Ay, ay, Nichols I know what you would say, and duly^sti- 
 mate your public spirit ; but, as you are the only surgeon indeed, 
 the only medical man in the parish to risk your life unnecessarily, 
 in a command so full of peril as that assigned Master Grayson, 
 would be very injudicious. We may spare a soldier or even a
 
 ^A> (i<r*& 
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 441 
 
 officer but the loss of a doctor is not so easily supplied and" 
 here his voice sank into a whisper, as he finished the sentence in 
 the ears of the patriot " the probability is, that your commander, 
 from the perilous service upon which he goes, will be the very first 
 to claim your skill." 
 
 " Well, my lord, if I must, I must but you can understand, 
 though it does not become me to say, how readily I should meet 
 death in behalf of the people." 
 
 " That I know that I know, Nichols. Your patriotism is duly 
 estimated. Enough, now and farewell, gentlemen God speed, 
 and be your surety. Granger, let us have boats for the city." 
 
 " Young missis," whispered Hector, taking Bess Matthews aside 
 " let me beg you call Hector your sarbant tell maussa you 
 must hab me dat you can't do widout me and den, you see, 
 missis, he wun't bodder me any more wid he foolish talk 'bout 
 freedom. Den, you see, he can't turn me off, no how." She pro- 
 mised him as he desired, and he went off to the boats singing: 
 
 * Go hush you tongue, ole nigger, 
 
 Wha' for you grumble BO, 
 You hab you 'own good maussa, 
 
 And you hab good missis too : 
 ' Che-weet> che-weet,' de little bird cry, 
 
 When he put he nose under he wing, 
 But he hab no song like Hector make, 
 
 When de young misses yerry um sing." 
 
 " Well, good-by, Maussa Doctor, good-by ! Dem Injins 'membe 
 you long time dem dat you kill ?" 
 
 " What do you mean, you black rascal !" cried Constantino 
 Maximilian to the retreating negro, who saw the regretful expres- 
 sion with which the medical man surveyed the preparation for a 
 departure from the scene of danger, in the securities of which he 
 was not permitted to partake. Three cheers marked the first 
 plunge of the boats from the banks, bearing off the gallant Pala- 
 tine with his peerless forest-flower. 
 
 19*
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 " Truthe, this is an olde chronycle, ywritte 
 
 Ynne a strange lettere, whyche myne eyne have redda 
 
 Whenne birchen were a lessonne of the schools, 
 
 Of nighe applyance. I doe note it welle, 
 
 'I faithe, evenne by that tukenne ; albeit muche, 
 
 The type hath worne away to skeleton, 
 
 That once, lyke some i'attc, pursy aldermanne, 
 
 Stoode uppe in twcntie stoime." 
 
 OUR tale becomes history. The web of fiction is woven the 
 romance is nigh over. The old wizard may not trench upon the 
 territories of truth. He stops short at her approach with a becom- 
 ing reverence. It is for all things, even for the upsoaring fancy, to 
 worship and keep to the truth. There is no security unless in its 
 restraints. The fancy may play capriciously only with the un- 
 known. Where history dare not go, it is then for poetry, borrow- 
 ing a wild gleam from the blear eye of tradition, to couple with 
 her own the wings of imagination, and overleap the boundaries of 
 the defined and certain. We have done this in our written pages. 
 We may do this no longer. The old chronicle is before us, and 
 the sedate muse of history, from her graven tablets, dictates for 
 the future. We write at her bidding now. 
 
 In safety, and with no long delay, Harrison, or, as we should 
 call him, the Palatine, reached Charleston, the metropolis of 
 Carolina. He found it in sad dilemma and dismay. As he had 
 feared, the warlike savages were at its gates. The citizens were 
 hemmed in confined to the shelter of the seven forts which gir- 
 dled its dwellings half-starved, and kept in constant watchfulness 
 against hourly surprise. The Indians had ravaged with fire and tho 
 tomahawk all the intervening country. Hundreds of the innocent 
 and unthinking inhabitants had perished by deaths the most painful 
 and protracted. The farmer had been shot down in the furrows 
 where he sowed his corn. His child had been butchered upon the
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 443 
 
 threshold, when, hearing the approaching footsteps, it had run to 
 meet its father. The long hair of his young wife, grasped in the 
 clutches of the murderer, became the decoration of a savage, 
 which had once been the charm of aa angel. Death and desola- 
 tion smoked along the wide stretch of country bordering the coast, 
 and designating the route of European settlement in the interior. 
 In the neighbourhood of Pocota-ligo alone, ninety persons were 
 slain. St. Bartholomew's parish was ravaged the settlement of 
 Stono, including the beautiful little church of that place, was en- 
 tirely destroyed by fire, while but few of the inhabitants, even of 
 the surrounding plantations, escaped the fury of the invaders. All 
 the country about Dorchester, then new as a settlement, and form- 
 ing the nucleus of that once beautiful and attractive, but thrice- 
 doomed village, shared the same fate, until the invaders reached 
 Goose Creek, when the sturdy militia of that parish, led on by 
 Captain Chiquan, a gallant young Huguenot, gave them a repulse, 
 and succeeding in throwing themselves between the savages and 
 the city, reached Charleston, in time to assist in the preparations 
 making for its defence. 
 
 The arrival of the Palatine gave a new life and fresh confidence 
 to the people. Ilis course was such as might have been expected 
 from his decisive character. He at once proclaimed martial law 
 laid an embargo, preventing the departure of any of the male 
 citizens, and the exportation of clothes, provisions, or anything 
 which might be useful to the colonists in their existing condition. 
 Waiting for no act of Assembly to authorize his proceedings, but 
 trusting to their subsequent sense of right to acknowledge and 
 ratify what he had done, he proceeded by draught, levy, and im- 
 pressment, to raise an army of eleven hundred men, in addition to 
 those employed in maintaining the capital. In this proceeding he 
 <till more signally showed his decision of character, by venturing 
 upon an experiment sufficiently dangerous to alarm those not ac- 
 quainted with the condition of the southern negro. Four hundred 
 of the army so raised, consisted of slaves, drawn from the parishes 
 according to assessment. Charleston gave thirty Christ Church, 
 sixteen St. Thomas and St. Dennis, fifty-five St. James, Goose 
 Creek, fifty-five St. Andrew's, eighty St.. John's, Berkley, sixty
 
 444 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 St. Paul's, forty-five St. James's, Santee, thirty-five St. Bartholo- 
 mew's, sixteen St. Helena, eight making up the required total of 
 four hundred. To these, add six hundred Carolinians, and ona 
 hundred friendly Indians or allies ; these latter being Tuscaroras,* 
 from North Carolina, almost the only Indian nation in the south 
 not in league against the colony. Other bodies of men were alsc. 
 raised for stations, keeping possession of the Block Houses at points 
 most accessible to the foe, and where the defence was most impor- 
 tant. At the Savano town, a corps of forty men were stationed 
 a similar torce at Rawlin's Bluff on the Edistoh ; at Port Royal ; 
 on the Combaneo; at the Horseshoe, and other places, in like man- 
 ner ; all forming so many certain garrisons to the end of the war. 
 All other steps taken by the Palatine were equally decisive ; and 
 such were the severe and summary penalties annexed to the non-per- 
 formance of the duties required from the citizen, that there was no 
 evasion of their execution. Death was the doom, whether of de- 
 sertion from duty, or of a neglect to appear at the summons 
 to the field. The sinews of war in another respect were also 
 proviued by the Palatine. He issued bills of credit for 30,000/. 
 to raise supplies ; the counterfeiting of which, under the decree of 
 the privy council, was punishable by death without benefit of 
 clergy. Having thm: prepared for the contest, he placed himself 
 at the head of his rude levies, and with a word of promise and 
 sweet regret to his young bride, he marched out to meet the 
 enemy. 
 
 War with the American Indians was a matter of far greater 
 romance than modern European warfare possibly can be. There 
 was nothing of regular array in such conflicts as those of the bor- 
 derers with the savages ; and individual combats, such as give 
 interest to story, were common events in all such issues. The bor- 
 derer singled out his foe, and grappled with him in the full con- 
 fidence of superior muscle. With him, too, every ball was fated. 
 He threw away no shot in line. His eye conducted his finger ; 
 and he touched no trigger, unless he first ranged the white drop at 
 
 * Apart from his pay in this war, each Tuscarora received, on returning 
 home, as a bounty, one gun, one hatchet ; and for every slave which ba 
 may have lost, an enemy's slave in return 1
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 445 
 
 the muzzle of his piece upon some vital point of his foe's person 
 War, really, was an art, and a highly ingenious one, in the deep 
 recesses and close swamps of the southern forests. There was no 
 bull-headed marching up to the mouth of the cannon. Their pride 
 was to get around it to come in upon the rear to insinuate to 
 dodge to play with fears or the false confidence of the foe, so as 
 to effect by surprise what could not be done by other means. These 
 were the arts of the savages. It was fortunate for the Carolinians 
 that their present leader knew them so well. Practised as he had 
 been, the Palatine proceeded leisurely, but decisively, to contend 
 with his enemies on their ow . ground, and after their own fashion. 
 He omitted no caution which could insure against surprise, and, 
 at the same time, be allowed himself no delay. Gradually advanc- 
 ing, with spies always out, he foiled all the efforts of his adversary. 
 In vain did Sanutee put all his warrior skill in requisition. In vain 
 did his most cunning braves gather along the sheltered path in 
 ambuscade. In vain did they show themselves in small numbers, 
 and invite pursuit by an exhibition of timidity. The ranks of the 
 Carolinians remained unbroken. There was no exciting their lead- 
 er to precipitation. His equanimity was invincible, and he kept 
 his men steadily upon their way still advancing still backing 
 their adversaries and with courage and confidence in themselves, 
 duly increasing with every successful step in their progress. 
 
 Sanutee did not desire battle, until the force promised by the 
 Spaniards should arrive. He was in momentary expectation of its 
 appearance. Still, he was reluctant to recede from his ground, so 
 advantageously taken ; particularly, too, as be knew that the In- 
 dians, only capable of sudden action, are not the warriors for a 
 patient and protracted watch in the field, avoiding the conflict for 
 which they have expressly come out. His anxieties grew with the 
 situation forced upon him by the army and position of the Palatine ; 
 and gradually giving ground, he was compelled, very reluctantly 
 to fall back upon the river of Salke-batchie, where the Yemassees 
 had a small town, some twenty miles from Pocota-ligo. Here he 
 formed his great camp, determined to recede* no farther. His posi- 
 tion was good, rhe river-swamp ran in an irregular sweep, so as 
 partially to form n front of his array. His men he distributed
 
 446 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 througli a thick copse running alongside of th river, which lay 
 directly in his rear. In retreat, the swamps were secure fastnesses, 
 and they were sufficiently contiguous. 
 
 The night had set in before he took his position. The Carolini- 
 ans were advancing, and but a few miles divided the two armies. 
 Sanutee felt secure from attack so long as he maintained his pre- 
 sent position; and, sending out scouts, and preparing all things, 
 like a true warrior, for every event, he threw himself, gloomy with 
 conflicting thoughts, under the shadow. of an old tree that rose up 
 in front of his array. 
 
 While he mused, his ear caught the approach of a light footstep 
 behind him. He turned, and his eye rested upon Matiwan. She 
 crept humbly towards him, and lay at his feet. He did not re- 
 pulse her ; but his tones, though gentle enough, were gloomily 
 cold. 
 
 " Would Matiwan strike with a warrior, that she comes to the 
 camp of the Yemassee ? Is there no lodge in Pocota-ligo for the 
 woman of a chief?" 
 
 " The lodge is not for Matiwan, if the chief be not there. Shall 
 the woman have no eyes ? what can the eye of Matiwan behold if 
 Sanutee stand not up before it. The boy is not ' 
 
 " Cha ! cha ! It is the tongue of a foolish bird that sings out 
 of his season. Let the woman speak of the thing that is. Would 
 the chief of the Yemassee hear a song from the woman ? It must 
 be of the big club, and the heavy blow. Blood must be in the 
 song, and a thick cry." 
 
 " Matiwan has a song of blood and a thick cry, the song and cry 
 of Opitchi-Manneyto when he comes out of the black swamps of 
 Edistoh. She saw the black spirit with the last dark. He stood 
 up before her in the lodge, and he had a curse for the Woman, for 
 Matiwan took from him his slave. He had a curse for Matiwan 
 and a fire-word, oh, well-beloved, for Sanutee." 
 
 " Cha, cha ! Sanutee has no ear for the talk of a child." 
 
 " The Opitchi-Manneyto spoke of Yemassee," said the woman. 
 
 " Ha ! what said the black spirit to the woman of Yemassee r " 
 was the question of the chief, with more earnestness. 
 
 "The scalps of the Yemassee were in his hand the teeth of the
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 447 
 
 i'emassee were round his neck, and he carried ,m arrow that was 
 broken." 
 
 " Thou liest thou hast a forked tongue, and a double voice for 
 mine ear. The arrow of Temassee is whole." 
 
 " The chief has a knife for the heart. Let the well-beloved striku 
 the bosom of Matiwan. Oh, chief thou wilt see the red blood 
 that is true. Strike, and tell it to come. Is it not thine ?" she 
 bared her breast as she spoke, and her eyes were fixed full upon 
 his with a look of resignation and of love, which spoke her truth. 
 The old warrior put his hand tenderly upon the exposed bosom, 
 
 " The blood is good under the hand of Sanutee. Speak, Mati- 
 wan." 
 
 "The scalps of Yemassee and the long tuft of a chief were in 
 the hand of the Opitchi-Manneyto." 
 
 " What chief?" inquired Sanutee. 
 
 " The great chief, Sanutee the well-beloved of the Yemassee," 
 groaned the woman, as she denounced his own fate in the ears of 
 the old warrior. She sank prostrate before him when she had 
 spoken, her face prone to the ground. The chief was silent for an 
 instant, after hearing the prediction conveyed by her vision, which 
 the native superstition, and his own previous thoughts of gloom, did 
 not permit him to question. Raising her after awhile, he simply 
 exclaimed 
 
 " It is good !" 
 
 " Shall Matiwan go back to the lodge in Pocota-ligo ?" she asked, 
 in a tone which plainly enough craved permission to remain. 
 
 " Matiwan will stay. The battle-god comes with the next sun, 
 and the Happy Valley is open for the chief." 
 
 " Matiwan is glad. The Happy Valley is for the woman of the 
 chief, and the boy " 
 
 " Cha ! it is good, Matiwan, that thou didst strike with the keen 
 hatchet into the head of Occonestoga Good ! But the chief would 
 not hear of him. Look the bush is ready for thy sleep." 
 
 He pointed to the copse as he spoke, and his manner forbade 
 further conversation. Leaving her, he took his way among the 
 warriors, arranging the disposition of his camp and of future 
 events.
 
 4A8 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Palatine approached the enemy slowly, but with 
 certainty, and with the resolve to make him fight if possible. Con- 
 fident, as he advanced, he nevertheless made his approaches sure. 
 He took counsel ot all matters calculated to affect or concern the 
 controversies of war. He omitted no precaution spared no pains 
 suffered nothing to divert him from the leading object in which 
 his mind was interested. His scouts were ever in motion, and as he 
 himself knew much of the country through which he marched, his 
 information was at all times certain. He pitched his camp within 
 a mile of the position chosen by the Yemassees, upoo ground care- 
 fully selected so as to prevent surprise. His main force lay in the 
 hollow of a wood, which spread in the rear of a small mucky bay, 
 interposed directly between his own and the main position of the 
 enemy. A thick copse hung upon either side, and here he scattered 
 a chosen band of his best sharp-shooters. They had their instruc- 
 tions ; and as he left as little as possible to chance, he took care 
 tht they fulfilled them. Such were his arrangements tha* night, 
 as soon as his ground of encampment had been chosen. 
 
 A.t a given signal, the main body of the army retired to their 
 te*-ts. The blanket of each soldier, suspended from a crotch stick, 
 *is was the custom of war in that region, formed his covering from 
 th. dews of night. The long grass constituted a bed sufficiently 
 warm and soft in a clime, and at a season, so temperate. The fires 
 were kindled, the roll of the drum in one direction, and the mellow 
 tones of the bugle in another, announced the sufficient signal for 
 repose. Weary with the long march of the day, the greater num- 
 ber were soon lulled into a slumber, as little restrained by thought 
 as if all were free from danger and there were no enemy before 
 them. 
 
 But the guardian watchers had been carefully selected by theii 
 provident leader, and they slept not. The Palatine himself was a 
 sufficient eye over that slumbering host. He was unwearied and 
 wakeful. He could not be otherwise. His thought kept busy note 
 of the hours and of the responsibilities upon him. It is thus that 
 the leading mind perpetually, exhibits proofs of its immortality 
 maintaining the physical nature in its weakness, renewing its strength, 
 feeding it with a fire that elevates its attributes, and almost secure*
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 449 
 
 it in immortality too. The Governor knew his enemy, and suspect- 
 ing his wiles, he prepared his own counter-stratagems. His arrange- 
 ments were well devised, and he looked with impatience for the 
 progress of the hours which were to bring about the result he now 
 contemplated as certain. 
 
 It was early morning, some three hours before the dawn, and 
 the grey squirrel had already begun to scatter the decayed branches 
 fiom the tree-tops in which he built his nest, when the Palatine 
 roused his officers, and they in turn the men. They followed his 
 bidding in quick movement, and without noise ; they were mar- 
 shalled in little groups, leaving their blanket tents standing pre- 
 cisely as when they lay beneath them. Under their several leaders 
 they were marched forward, in single or Indian file, through the 
 copse which ran along on either side of their place of encampment. 
 They were halted, just as they marched, with their tents some few 
 hundVed yards behind them. Here they were dispersed through 
 the forest, at given intervals, each warrior having his bush or tree 
 assigned him. Thus stationed, they were^ taught to be watchful 
 and to await the movements of the enemy. 
 
 The Palatine had judged rightly. He was satisfied that the 
 Yemassees would be unwilling to have the battle forced upon them 
 at Pocota-ligo, exposing their women and children to the horrors 
 of an indiscriminate fight. To avoid this, it was necessary that 
 they should anticipate his approach to that place. The Salke- 
 hatchie was the last natural barrier which they could well oppose 
 to his progress; and the swamps and thick fastnesses which marked 
 the neighbourhood, indicated it well as the most fitting spot for 
 Indian warfare. This was in the thought of the Palatine not less 
 than of Sanutee ; and in this lay one of the chief merits of the for- 
 mer as a captain. He thought for his enemy. He could not 
 narrow his consideration of the game before him to his own play : 
 and having determined what was good policy with his foe, be 
 prepared his own to encounter it. 
 
 Sanutee had been greatly aided in the progress of this war by 
 the counsels of the celebrated Creek chief, Chigilli, who led a small 
 band of the lower Creeks and Euchees in the insurrection. With 
 his advice, he determined upon attacking the Carolinian army be
 
 450 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 fore (lit, dawn of the ensuing day. Tha4 night arranged his 
 proceedings, and, undaunted by the communication of his fate, re- 
 vealed to him in the vision of Matiwan, and which, perhaps with 
 the subdued emotions of one who had survived his most absorbing 
 affections he was not unwilling to believe, he roused his warriors 
 at a sufficiently early hour, and they set forward, retracing their 
 steps, and well prepared to surprise their enemy. The voice of the 
 whippoorwill regulated their progress through the doubtful and 
 dark night, and without interruption they went on for a mile or 
 more, until. their scouts brought them word that the yellow blan- 
 kets of the whites glimmered through the shadows of the trees 
 before them. With increased caution, therefore, advancing, they 
 came to a point commanding a full view of the place of repose of 
 the Carolinian army. Here they halted, placing themselves care- 
 fully in cover, and waiting for the earliest show of dawn in which 
 to commence the attack by a deadly and general fire upon the 
 tents and their flying inmates. In taking such a position, they 
 placed themselves directly between the two divisions of the Pala- 
 tine's force, which, skirting the copse on either hand, formed a 
 perfect ambush. The Yemassees did not suspect their enemy; 
 who were so placed, that, whenever the red men should make 
 their demonstration upon the tents, where the supposed sleepers 
 lay, which they were wont to do just before the dawn they would 
 be prepared and ready to cover them with cross fires, and to come 
 out upon their wings and rear, taking them at a vantage which 
 must give a fatal blow to their enterprise. 
 
 It came at last, the day so long and patiently, looked for by both 
 parties. A faint gleam of light gushed through tlie trees, and a 
 grey streak like a fine thread stole out upon the horizon. Then 
 rose the .cry, the fierce war-whoop of Yemassee and Creek. "Sari- 
 !/arrak-me, Sangarrah-me / " was the deafening shout of the savages 
 with which they r ilculated to terrify the souls of those whom they 
 thus awakened from bewildering sleep. Blood for the Yemassee, 
 blood for the Cherokee, blood for the Creek were the cries 
 which, at a given moment, carried forward the thousand fierce and 
 dusky warriors of the confederate nations upon the tents which 
 Vhey fondly imagined to contain their sleeping enemies. The shots
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 451 
 
 penetrated the blankets in every direction the arrows hurtled on 
 all sides through the air, and, rapidly advancing with the first dis 
 charge, the Indians rushed to the tents, tomahawk in hand, to 
 strike down the fugitives. 
 
 In that moment, the sudden hurrah of the Carolinians, in their 
 rear and on their sides, aroused them to a knowledge 0f that stra- 
 tagem which had anticipated their own. The shot told fatally on 
 their exposed persons, and a fearful account of victims came with 
 the very first discharge of the sharp-shooting foresters. Conster- 
 nation, for a moment, followed the first consciousness which the 
 Indians had of their predicament ; but desperation took the place 
 of surprise. Sanutee and Chigilli led them in every point, and 
 wherever the face of the foe could be seen. Their valour was des- 
 perate but cool, and European warfare has never shown a more 
 determined spirit of bravery than -was then manifested by the wild 
 warriors of Yemassee, striking the last blow for the glory and the 
 existence of their once mighty nation. Driven back on one side 
 and another, they yet returned fiercely and fearlessly to the con- 
 flict, with a new strength and an exaggerated degree of fury. Chi- 
 gilli, raging like one of his own forest panthers, fell fighting, with 
 his hand wreathed in the long hair of one of the borderers, whom 
 he had grappled behind his tree, and for whose heart his knife was 
 already flashing in the air. A random shot saved the borderer, by 
 passing directly through the skull of the Indian. A howl of des- 
 pairing vengeance went up from the tribe which he led, as they 
 beheld him fall; and rushing upon the sheltered whites, as they 
 sought to reclaim his body, they experienced the same fate to a 
 man ! For two hours after this the fight raged recklessly and 
 fierce. The Indians were superior in number to the Carolinians, but 
 the surprise of their first assault was productive of a panic from 
 which they never perfectly recovered. This was more than an 
 off-set to any disparity of force originally ; and, as the position of 
 the whites had been well taken, the Yemassees found it impossible 
 in the end to force it. The sun, risen fairly above the forests, be- 
 held them broken without concert hopeless of all further effort 
 flying in every direction ; shot down as they ran into the open 
 grounds, and crushed by the servile auxiliaries of the whites as
 
 452 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 they sought for shelter in the cover of the woods, assigned, for 
 this very purpose, to the negroes. 
 
 A brief distance apart from the melee, free from the flying 
 crowd, as the point was more exposed to danger one spot of the 
 field of battle rose into a slight elevation. A little group rested 
 upon it, consisting of four persons. Two of them were Yemassee 
 subordinates. One of them was already dead. From the bosom 
 of the other, in thick currents, freezing fast, the life was rapidly 
 ebbing. He looked up as he expired, and his last broken words, 
 in his own language, were those of homage and affection to the 
 well-beloved of his people the great chief, Sanutee. 
 
 It was the face of the " well-beloved" upon whom his glazed eyes 
 were fixed with an expression of admiration, indicative of the feel- 
 ing of his whole people, and truly signifying that of the dying 
 Indian to the last The old chief looked down on him encourag- 
 ingly, as the warrior broke out into a start of song the awful song 
 of the dying. The spirit parted with the effort, and Sanutee turned 
 his eyes from the contemplation of the melancholy spectacle to the 
 only living person beside him. 
 
 That person was Matiwan. She hung over the well-beloved 
 warrior, with an affection as purely true, as warmly strong, as the 
 grief of her soill was' speechless and tearless. Her hand pressed 
 closely upon his side, from which the vital torrent was pouring 
 fast ; and between the two, in a low moaning strain, in the Yemas- 
 see tongue, they bewailed the fortunes of their nation. 
 
 "The eye of Matiwan looked on, when the tomahawk was re r l 
 when the knife had a wing. She saw Chigilli, the brave of the 
 Creeks she saw him strike ?" inquired the chief of the woman. 
 
 " Matiwan saw." 
 
 " Let the woman say of Sanutee, the well-beloved of Yemassee. 
 Did Chigilli go before him ? Was Sanutee a dog that runs ? Was 
 the hatchet of a chief slow ? Did the well-beloved strike at tho 
 pale-face as if the red eye of Opitchi-Manneyto had looked on him 
 for a slave ?" 
 
 " The well-beloved is the great brave of Yemassee. The other 
 Chiefs came after. Matiwan saw him strike like a chief, when the 
 battle was thick with a rush, and the hatr-het was deep in the head
 
 THE YEMASSEE. 453 
 
 of a pale warrior. Look, oh, well-beloved is not this the bullet 
 of the white mail ? The big kuife is in the bosom of a chief, and 
 the blood is like a rope on the fingers of Matiwan." 
 
 " It is from the heart of Sanutee !" 
 
 "Ah-cheray-me ah-cheray-me !" groaned the womau, in savage 
 lamentation, as she sank down beside the old warrior, one arm now 
 enclasping his already rigid person. 
 
 " It is good, Matiwan. The well-beloved has no people. The 
 Yemassee has bones in the thick woods, and there are no young 
 braves to sing the song of his glory. The Coosah-moray-te is on the 
 bosom of the Yemassee, with the foot of the great bear of Apalachia. 
 He makes his bed in the old home of Pocota-ligo, like a fox that 
 burrows in the hill-side. We may not drive him away. It is good 
 for Sanutee to die with his people. Let the song of his dying be 
 sung." 
 
 ' Ah- cheray-me ah cheray-me !" was the only response of the 
 woman, as, but partially equal to the effort, the chief began his 
 song of many victories. 
 
 But the pursuers were at hand, in the negroes, now scouring the 
 field of battle with their huge clubs and hatchets, knocking upon 
 the head all of the Indians who yet exhibited any signs of lite. 
 As wild almost as the savages, they luxuriated in a pursuit to 
 them so very novel they hurried over the forests with a step as 
 fleet, and a ferocity as dreadful sparing none, whether they fought 
 or pleaded, and frequently inflicting the most unnecessary blows, 
 even upon the dying and the dead. 
 
 The eye of Matiwan, while watching the expiring blaze in that 
 of the old warrior, discovered the approach of one of these sable 
 enemies. She threw up her hand to arrest or impede the bimv, 
 declaring, as she did so, the name of the chief she defended. He 
 himself feebly strove to grasp the hatchet, which had sunk from 
 his hands, to. defend himself, or at least to strike the assailant ; but 
 the. expiring life had only gathered for a moment, stagnating 
 about his heart. The arm was palsied ; but the half-unclosing eye, 
 which glowed wildly upon the black, and arrested his blow much 
 more completely than the effort of Matiwan, attested the yet re- 
 luctant consciousness. Life went with the last effort, when, think-
 
 454 THE YEMASSEE. 
 
 ing only of the strife for his country, his lips parted feebly with tho 
 cry of battle " Sangarrah-me, Yemassee Sangarrah-me San 
 garrarh-me !" 
 
 The eye was dim for ever. Looking no longer to the danger of 
 the stroke from the club of the negro, Matiwan threw herself at 
 length upon the body, now doubly sacred to that childless woman. 
 At that moment the Lord Palatine came up, in time to arrest the 
 blow of the servile which still threatened her. 
 
 " Matiwan," said the Palatine, stooping to raise her from the 
 body "Matiwan, it is the chief?" 
 
 " Ah-cheray-me, ah-cheray-me, Sanutee Ah-cheray-me, ah-che- 
 ray-me, Yemassee !" 
 
 She was unconscious of all things, as they bore her tenderly 
 away, save that the Yemassee was no longer the great nation. She 
 only felt that the " well-beloved," as well of herself as of her peo- 
 ple, looked forth, with Occonestoga, wondering that she came not, 
 from the Blessed Valley of the Good Manneyto.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES 
 
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