A Soldier of Virginia | Page 8

have been different. But I must not anticipate,
and I find my hardest task in writing what is before me is to escape the
shadow of the disaster which was to come. At that time, and, indeed,
until the storm burst, few of us had penetration to discern the cloud on
the horizon,--Colonel Washington, Mr. Franklin, and a few others,
perhaps, but certainly not I. It is easy to detect mistakes after the event,
and to conduct a campaign on paper, yet few who saw that martial
array of troops, with its flying banners and bright uniforms, would have
ordered the advance differently.
But to return.
"It was not until three days ago," continued Washington, "that I was
able to rejoin the general, and he intrusted me with a message to
Colonel Halket, which I delivered this evening. I must start back to
Mount Vernon to-morrow and place my affairs in order, and will then
join the army at Cumberland, whence the start is to be made."
"And what make of man is the general?" I asked.
A cloud settled on Washington's face.
"Why, Tom," he said at last, "I have seen so little of him that I may
misjudge him. He is at least brave and honest, two great things in a
commander. As for the rest, it is yet too soon to judge. But you have
told me nothing about your affairs. How did you leave them all at
Riverview?"
"I left them well enough," I answered shortly.
Washington glanced keenly at my downcast face, for indeed the
memory of what had occurred at Riverview was not pleasant to me.

"Did you quarrel with your aunt before you came away?" he asked
quietly.
"Yes," I said, and stopped. How could I say more?
"I feared it might come to that," he said gravely. "Your position there
has been a false one from the start. And yet I see no way to amend it."
We walked on in silence for some time, each busy with his own
thoughts, and mine at least were not pleasant ones.
"Tom," said Washington suddenly, "what was the quarrel about? Was it
about the estate?"
"Oh, no," I answered. "We shall never quarrel about the estate. We
have already settled all that. It was something quite different."
I could not tell him what it was; the secret was not my own.
He looked at me again for a moment, and then, stopping suddenly,
wheeled me around to face him, and caught my hand.
"I think I can guess," he said warmly, "and I wish you every happiness,
Tom."
My lips were trembling so I could not thank him, but I think he knew
what was in my heart.
CHAPTER III
IN WHICH I INTRODUCE MYSELF
I doubt not that by this time the reader is beginning to wonder who this
fellow is that has claimed his attention, and so, since there is no one
else to introduce me, I must needs present myself.
It so happened that when that stern old lion, Oliver Cromwell, crushed
the butterfly named Charles Stuart at Worcester in the dim dawn of the
third day of September, 1651, and utterly routed the army of that

unhappy prince, one Thomas Stewart fell into the hands of the
Roundheads, as, indeed, did near seven thousand others of the Royalist
army. Now this Thomas Stewart had very foolishly left a pretty estate
in Kincardine, together with a wife and two sturdy boys, to march
under the banner of the Princeling, as he conceived to be his duty, and
after giving and taking many hard knocks, here he was in the enemy's
hands, and Charles Stuart a fugitive. They had one and all been
declared by Parliament rebels and traitors to the Commonwealth, so the
most distinguished of the captives were chosen for examples to the rest,
and three of them, the Earl of Derby among the number, were sent
forthwith to the block, where they comported themselves as brave men
should, and laid down their heads right cheerfully.
The others were sent to prison, since it was manifestly impossible to
execute them all,--nor was Cromwell so bloodthirsty, now the rebellion
was broken utterly,--and some sixteen hundred of them were sentenced
to be transported to the colony of Virginia, which had long been a
dumping ground for convicts and felons and political scapegoats.
Hither, then, they came, in ships crowded to suffocation, and many
dead upon the way and thrown to the sharks for burial, but for some
reason only one of the ships stopped here, while the others went on to
Barbados to discharge their living freight. I more than suspect that
Cromwell's agents soon discovered the Commonwealth had few friends
in Virginia, and feared the effect of letting loose here so many of