"Well, I never was at sea in a craft like this before, its planking not much thicker than a sheet of paper," said Ben, as they paddled on; "however, provided the water keeps out, it matters little whether the planking is three inches or the tenth of an inch thick."

They paddled on and on, keeping as close into the beach as they could venture; Ben observing, it would not do to run the risk of touching a rock or sandbank either. The tide, on which they had not calculated, was against them, as was a light breeze, so that they were longer than they expected in reaching the bay where they had landed. It was then growing dusk, and as they looked towards the shore, they saw several figures running down. A musket-ball came whistling not far from their ears; on this Ben shouted pretty lustily. They paddled on as fast as they could to the boat; she lay, contrary to orders, close to the beach.

"Pretty fellows you are, to shoot at your friends," exclaimed Ben.

"We took you for natives," answered one of the men, "and thought it might be that you were coming to carry off the boat."

"If you had been where you ought to have been—on board her—they would have found that a hard job," replied Ben.

"We were only stretching our legs, Master Tarbox, while we looked out for the rest. What has become of them?" asked the man.

"You'll have to stretch your arms now, mates," said Ben; "and I'll tell you all about that as we go along."

The long-boat was quickly shoved off, and the canoe being fastened astern, Oliver took the helm, and the crew gave way with a will, glad enough to return to the ship. Ben then told them that they would have a much longer pull on the morrow, and as he hoped attain the object of their expedition. Such a trip, in spite of the hard work they would have to go through, not free from danger though it might be, was exactly to their tastes.

They reached the ship two hours after dark. The captain had been getting ready provisions and ammunition so that they might start at dawn of day. Virginia, surmising their intentions, crept out of the cabin, and was on the watch, intending to go also. Oliver had no little difficulty in persuading her to remain, and not till he told her that the great chief who commanded the big canoe would not allow her to go did she consent to remain. A light breeze blowing up the river, the long-boat, with the canoe astern, sped merrily on her voyage. Oliver had taken care to obtain from his sister, as far as he could understand her language, an exact description of the channel by which the rapids might be avoided. With a strong current against them, heavy also as the boat was, they made much slower progress during the second part. They were still some way from the rapids when night overtook them. Oliver and Ben agreed that it would be impossible to attempt the channel unless in broad daylight; they therefore secured their boat to the bank under a wide-spreading tree.

Oliver, young as he was, knew the importance of being on their guard against surprise. Accordingly he and Ben searched round to ascertain whether any Indians were lurking in the neighbourhood; he also stationed a sentry on shore with orders to keep his ears open, that he might give timely notice of the approach of a foe. The night passed off, however, without interruption.

"Now, lads, we must get up these rapids before the hot sun comes down to make the toil harder to bear," cried Ben, rousing the men up. "For the next three or four miles the water is deep and free from rocks, as I noted when we came down, and we may get along it in the twilight."

Ben was right, and, with the early light, the rapids came in sight ahead; then, steering to the right, they found the channel Virginia had described. The depth at the entrance was sufficient to float the boat, but it was too narrow to allow the oars to be worked. The only way, therefore, by which they could hope to get on was to land and tow the boat up against the current. This was no easy matter, as in many places the stems and roots of the trees came close down to the water's edge, while the wide branches formed a thick canopy overhead. Still, sometimes pulling, at others wading, and at others landing and towing on the boat, they hoped by perseverance to succeed. While thus engaged they knew that, should any hostile natives attack them, they must be taken at a woeful disadvantage. The arms therefore were placed in the boat, so that each one might seize his weapon in an instant, while two men proceeded as scouts through the forest on the right to give warning should a foe approach. Thus, after an hour's toil they emerged into the broad stream, some way above the rapids, when they were able once more to take to their oars.

Oliver judged that Virginia had avoided this passage when they descended, as the darkness in which it must have been plunged at that time would have prevented her from seeing the way, while the danger to her slight canoe from the roots projecting into the water and the sunken logs would have been far greater than that from the rocks of the rapids.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

We must now go back to the moment when Gilbert and Fenton, anxious to obtain some venison for themselves and their hungry companions, were creeping along in the hopes of getting a shot at the deer they had seen from the fort. Having at length, as they supposed, got close enough to the deer to make sure of it, Gilbert was on the point of firing when, hearing Fenton cry out, he looked round and saw his friend, to his dismay, in the hands of several Indians; while others, springing forward, seized his arms before he could even point his gun towards them.

It was useless, they knew, to plead for mercy; the Indians, indeed, threatened them by signs with instant death should they cry out.

They were hurried on at a rapid rate till they reached a ford across the stream, which ran as they supposed by their camp. On and on they went, six only of their captors remaining with them, while the main body returned into the forest.

"They cannot go on for ever," observed Gilbert, "and as they must camp at some time or other, we must then look out for an opportunity to escape. It would be a shame to our manhood were we to allow ourselves to be held captive by six Indians."

"I am ready for any plan you may propose," answered Fenton, "but it will be no easy matter to get free without weapons and with our arms secured behind our backs."

"If they leave us together to-night, I will try what my teeth can do," answered Gilbert, "in casting loose the bonds which bind your hands, and you can then render the same good service to me."

"I pray that we may have the chance," remarked Fenton, "though, when our arms are free, how we are to escape from the lynx-eyed natives I know not."

"That must be as opportunity offers," said Gilbert.

The possibility of escaping kept up their spirits, and they moved along with apparent willingness in the direction the Indians wished them to go. They had thus made considerable progress before nightfall, when the Indians halted in a small open space in the midst of a thick wood, where they lighted a fire and prepared, as it seemed, to pass the night there. Much to Gilbert and Fenton's disappointment, however, the cunning natives placed them apart, one on each side of the fire, though they gave them to eat some of the venison and dried fish which they carried in their wallets.

"We must put a good face on the matter, and not let them suspect our intentions," observed Gilbert. "Let us sing them a merry stave. It will make them fancy we are thoughtless about the future, and they will deem it less necessary to watch us closely. No matter the words, provided the tune is such as to take their fancy."

Thereon they struck up an air which they had often sung on board ship. The Indians nodded their heads approvingly. Next morning two of the Indians went out hunting, and on their return with a small deer, shared the flesh with their prisoners. After this they travelled on as before, and continued moving to the northward for two more days. Every mile they went they felt that their chance of escape was lessening, still, like brave lads, they did not give way to despair. They tried to learn from the Indians what had become of their party; they understood that they were on a war-path, but would ere long overtake them.

"To-night or never we must make our attempt to escape, Ned," said Gilbert. "I have heard tell of the cruel tricks of these Indians, who only spare the lives of their prisoners at first, that they may carry them to their villages to show them to their squaws, before they put them to death with the most cruel tortures. Such may be the lot they intend for us, and such an ending is not to my taste any more than it is to yours, I am sure."

"That it is not," said Fenton; "and if we can once free our arms and get hold of our weapons, we may, at all events, have a brave tussle for life."

Another night came. Gilbert lay down some way farther off from the fire than usual, and Fenton, pretending to stumble as he passed, threw himself down by his side. Their guards, taking no notice of this, allowed them to remain where they were, while they set themselves to cooking part of a deer they had shot during the day. The Indians, who had been ranging two at a time over the country in search of game, were more tired than usual, and after gorging themselves with venison, lay down to sleep, one only remaining on guard to keep up the fire. He, too, after piling on more wood, which, being green, did not blaze up, sat down, and in a short time Gilbert saw him stretch himself at his length, a loud snore announcing that he, also, had gone to sleep. Gilbert had been gradually getting his head closer and closer to Fenton's arms; he now in eager haste began to gnaw away at the leathern thongs which bound them. The task was not an easy one, and such as a sailor only, accustomed to all sorts of knots, could have accomplished. It was done at length, when, lifting up his head, he observed that the Indians were still fast asleep. Fenton on this, slowly rolling round, with his hands at liberty, quickly cast off Gilbert's bonds. To get hold of their weapons was their next task. Fortunately, their fire-arms and ammunition-belts had been carried by the Indians who lay nearest to them; they marked this while the fire was still blazing, and therefore knew where to find them. While Fenton crawled towards one, Gilbert in the same way approached the other,—now stooping, now moving a few inches, till he felt his hands on his weapon. Fenton eagerly grasping his sword, rose to his feet, and drawing it from its scabbard, pointing Gilbert to do the same, made as if he would kill the sleeping Indians. Gilbert lifted up his hand to implore him to desist just as his weapon was about to descend, scarcely able to refrain from crying out. Fenton obeyed him. He then signed to him that they must next, if possible, possess themselves of the Indians' bows. The attempt was a daring one, but they so lay that they could be lifted without disturbing their owners. Though they could not carry them off, the fire would render them useless. And now, seeing how soundly the Indians slept, they lifted them one after the other, and drove their ends among the burning embers. The Indians' tomahawks were in their belts, or they would have treated them in the same manner. Any further delay would be dangerous: stooping down so that, should either of the Indians awake, there might be less chance of their being seen, they made their way into the forest. Should they keep to the south they might meet their approaching foes. They therefore turned to the east, hoping thus either to make their way to the sea or to reach the village of some friendly tribe. Every instant they expected to be pursued; but as they stopped to listen no sound reached their ears, and they continued their course, guided by the stars, of which they could occasionally catch sight amid the openings in the trees. Should they once get to a distance, they had hopes that the Indians would not discover their trail till the morning, which would give them a long start. After going some distance they gained the open country, across which they could make their way without difficulty. Their spirits raised with the feeling of regained liberty, and the thoughts of escaping the cruel death or galling captivity which would have been their lot, they sped on.

Daylight at length broke; the rising sun now served them as a guide, and they were pushing on with his rays in their eyes, faint from their exertions, when they saw before them a broad river, on the opposite side of which, with a wood beyond, appeared an Indian village, hitherto unperceived. Descending the hill full in view of the village, they must they knew be seen. Making a virtue of necessity, Gilbert proposed that they should at once boldly enter the village and demand the hospitality of its inhabitants. A canoe lay on the bank: stepping into it, they paddled across to a landing-place, near which already a number of women and children and a few men were collected, wondering who the paleface strangers could be. Gilbert stepped boldly on shore, followed by Fenton.

"We have come as friends," he shouted, "and our wish is to be at peace with you, and with all the children of this country. Conduct us to your chief."

The bold bearing of the two youths and their good looks produced a favourable effect on the gentler portion of the inhabitants, who crowded round them, eager to examine them more nearly; whereat Gilbert and his companion smiled and offered their hands, making every sign they could think of to show their friendly feelings. At this the women looked well pleased, and inquired whether they were hungry.

"Indeed we are, fair dames," answered Fenton, making signs, "and thankful should we be for any food you can bring us."

On this several of the younger women hurried to their wigwams and soon returned with a supply of fish and plantains and several fruits, which they placed on the grass in a shady spot under a tree before the strangers, who set to with a good will, nodding right and left in acknowledgment to their entertainers. They had just finished when they saw an old Indian, whom they knew by his dress to be a chief, accompanied by several councillors, approaching them. They rose and advanced to meet him, Gilbert, who spoke the Indian language better than his companion, shouting out that they were glad to see so renowned a chief, whose friendship they desired to make. The chief, who it appeared had heard rumours of the fresh arrival of the English in the country, supposing that they were to be followed by a large army, treated them accordingly with much courtesy and respect, and assured them that everything in his village was at their disposal, and that it would be his pride to entertain them as long as they remained.

Thus far they believed that they were safe. They, however, had fears that the Indians from whom they had escaped might follow on their trail, and come to demand them. They therefore proposed, after resting, to set out again, hoping in course of time to reach the sea. The old chief, however, though he made them welcome, had no intention of letting them depart. When the next day they expressed a wish to continue their journey, he made the excuse that enemies were abroad who might take their lives, and as they were his guests that the blame would rest with him. They had expected before this the arrival of the Indians from whom they had escaped; but as another day passed by and they did not appear, they guessed truly that the tribes were at enmity, and that their captors had not dared to pursue them. It was, however, probable that they might be lurking in the neighbourhood, in the hopes of overtaking them should they venture from the village; they therefore, with less unwillingness than they would otherwise have felt, consented to remain, hoping every day that the chief would send an escort with them to the coast, which they supposed was at no great distance. When, however, they made the request to him, he observed that it was many days' journey off, and that the inhabitants were enemies, who would attack his people should he send them. Thus day after day, and week after week went by; and so strictly watched were they that they could find no opportunity of escaping. They were treated all the time, however, by the women as kindly as at first; and the chiefs two daughters gave them to understand, that, if they would promise to remain, they should become their husbands and leaders of the tribe. Neither Gilbert nor Fenton, however, desired this honour, though they were too wise directly to refuse the proposal.

Their captivity being light, they were tolerably happy, and would have been more so had they been able to let their friends know that they were safe. At last, the chief confided to them the cause of their detention: a tribe, between whom and his people an hereditary feud had existed, had of late years always proved victorious, the reason being, as he observed, that they had a white man dwelling among them, who, although he did not himself fight, always directed their counsels; and now, as he had got two white men, he hoped to beat his enemies, especially if they accompanied him to battle, which he had made up his mind that they should do. On receiving this announcement, Gilbert and Fenton consulted together as to how they should act. Gilbert declared he had no wish to fight any Indians who had not molested him. As to that, Fenton thought that there was no great harm, and that it was their duty to help those who had befriended them. "If the Indians go out to fight, and we are compelled to accompany them, we may as well help them to gain the victory, and bring the war sooner to a conclusion," he answered. His reasoning, however, did not satisfy Gilbert.

"Have you considered who the white man possibly is of whom the chief speaks?" he asked. "My idea is, that, if he has been among them for several years, he must be my father; and, if so, I would never consent to fight against his friends, though he himself were not in the battle."

"I should say, on the contrary," said Fenton. "Supposing the white man spoken of is your father, they must have detained him against his will, and therefore, if we can conquer them, we shall be doing him good service by setting him free."

The next day there was a great stir in the village, and warriors from all directions came flocking in, adorned with war-paint and feathers. The chief made them a long harangue, and informed them that his white sons were going forth with their lightning-makers to assist them in fighting their foes, and that victory was certain. As Gilbert still hesitated, the chief told him very plainly that go he must or take the consequences; so, Fenton having agreed to help the chief, he resolved to make the best of a bad matter. He and Fenton also intended to try and learn the whereabouts of the white man and to protect him, whoever he was, from their friends.

The whole force which had been marshalled overnight set forth some hours before daylight—not marching like an English army, shoulder to shoulder, but following each other in several lines, each headed by a warrior of renown, like so many snakes stealing along the grass. Gilbert and Fenton followed in the march, one behind the other. Thus they proceeded across the country; the lines never interfering with, but always keeping in sight of, each other. At night they encamped round several fires, a strong guard keeping watch over those who slept. They hoped, before the evening of the next day, to reach the territory of their enemies. The following evening, after a short rest in a thick forest, where no fires were lighted which might betray them, they again set forward, expecting ere long to come upon a village, which they hoped to take by surprise and put all the inhabitants to death.

"I will not assist them in so horrible a butchery," said Gilbert; "but perchance while they are engaged in it we may find an opportunity of escaping and letting the white man know the danger he and his friends are in."

The Indians now advanced more cautiously even than before, taking advantage of all the shelter the country afforded till night came on, when, after going some distance, a sign from the chief was passed from line to line. They halted in a thick wood, where they lay down, not a word being uttered, Gilbert and Fenton following their example. As they thus lay in perfect silence, they heard human voices, the laughter of young people, the barking of dogs, and other sounds, coming, evidently, from the village to be attacked. Soon the voices died away as the inhabitants went to rest. The night passed by, the Indians watching eagerly for the signal to advance. It was given about an hour before dawn, when the band of warriors crept rapidly forward like tigers about to spring on their prey. Gilbert felt much inclined to fire off his piece to give the doomed inhabitants the alarm, but he feared that he and Fenton would lose their lives; and that the inhabitants, not having time to collect for their defence, would still be put to death. As they approached, the lines separated till the entire village was surrounded, when the silence of night was broken by a succession of fearful war-whoops, and the warriors rushed forward to their work of destruction. At that moment, Gilbert plucking Fenton by the arm, they bounded off, unperceived by the old chief or the rest with him, their only aim being to escape from the scene of slaughter. On they went at a rate which would have made it difficult even for the Indians to overtake them. Day was breaking when they found themselves close to a river; as they glanced for an instant back, they could see the flames ascending from the burning village, round which the work of slaughter was going forward. As they could have done nothing to prevent it, it only incited them to fresh exertions to escape from the power of the savages. Happily the darkness would prevent their trail being followed, even should their escape be discovered, which it was not likely to be for some time, engaged as the Indians were; while, in the neighbourhood of the village, it would probably be obliterated by the feet of the inhabitants who might have attempted to escape.

By following the course of the river, they hoped to meet with a canoe, of which they would not scruple to take possession. If not, Gilbert proposed that they should build a raft, to which they would rather trust themselves, imperfectly constructed as it might be, than to the tender mercies of the savages.

"For my part I would rather swim for it," cried Fenton.

"We might throw them off the scent by so doing," said Gilbert; "but then we should lose our arms or damage our powder; let us keep that dry, and be able to fight like men for our lives if need be."

"You are right, Gilbert," answered his companion; "you see we have clear ground ahead, we may make play over it."

They bounded on across a wide meadow which skirted the river for some distance, hoping that they might not be discovered till they had gained the shelter of the forest beyond. Never, probably, had they run so fast; the hope of securing their liberty gave wings to their feet, while as yet they felt able to continue their flight for many a mile more. How many they had accomplished they were unable to calculate, but at length they were compelled to stop for want of breath. Throwing themselves on the ground, they lay listening attentively for any sound which might betoken the approach of pursuers, but except the notes of the song-birds, and the harsher screams of the wild-fowl as they skimmed along the banks, nothing could they hear, and after resting for a few minutes they again, with renewed strength, sped onwards. Still, as they ran, they looked for a canoe, but none could they discover.

"We shall have to build a raft, after all," said Gilbert; "but no matter, if it will float us we will manage to get down to the sea, and then make our way along the shore till we reach the mouth of the James River."

"Let us first get beyond the reach of our late friends," answered Fenton: "it would not be safe to stop as yet, for, depend on it, they will pursue us if they once discover our trail."

Gilbert agreeing with this, they sped on as before. The country before them was again partially open, here and there interspersed with clumps of trees and copses, where the depth of soil allowed their growth.

They had just passed through a small wood when they saw before them a tall figure proceeding in the same direction in which they were going, but far more leisurely. "Can it be an Indian?" exclaimed Fenton, placing his hand on Gilbert's arm for a moment as they stopped to observe him.

"He wears a dress of skins and mocassins; he has a quiver on his back, and bow in his hand," observed Gilbert.

"Yes," replied Fenton, "but no Indian has his head covered with a hat like that, and see, if I mistake not, he has a sword girded to his side, such as an Indian never carries."

"Then let us overtake him," exclaimed Gilbert; "should he prove to be an enemy, we are two to one, we need not fear him, although my hope is that he is a friend."

"On, then," cried Fenton, and, setting off, they quickly gained on the stranger. Hearing their footsteps, he turned and faced them, cautiously, as he did so, fixing an arrow in his bow. The moment he saw them, however, he withdrew it, letting the arrow fall to the ground, and hastened with hurried strides towards them. They now saw that he was indeed a white man, with a flowing long beard, which made him appear older than he really was. He looked from one to the other with an inquiring gaze. Gilbert's heart bounded within him.

"Can it be?" exclaimed the stranger, as he stretched out his arms. "Art thou Gilbert Audley?"

"Yes, father, yes," exclaimed Gilbert, as he sprang forward, and the next instant was clasped to the breast of Captain Audley.

"I had heard that thou wert far off, my boy," said Captain Audley, "and little did I expect to see thee, and was even now on my way to obtain the aid of some of our countrymen, who are not a day's voyage from this, to rescue thee from the hands of those who held thee in bondage. And this is the son of my noble friend, Sir Edward Fenton," he continued, stretching out his hand to Gilbert's companion. A few words sufficed, to explain how he knew all this. Gilbert then told him of their escape from the Indians, and of the probability of their being pursued.

"Then we must not tarry here longer," said Captain Audley, "though I fear that my weary limbs will not carry me as fast over the ground as your young ones have brought you along. It were better for you to hasten on rather than run the risk of being overtaken by the savages."

"No, no, father! having once found you, we will not desert you," exclaimed Gilbert.

"That we will not, sir," said Fenton, "though overtaken by a whole host of pursuers, we shall be three to oppose them, while we may use a stout tree as a fortress, behind which we may find shelter, and with fire-arms in our hands, while our ammunition lasts we may keep at bay any number who may come against us."

"We will rather strive to avoid them without shedding of blood," said Captain Audley; "I have seen so much slaughter since I have dwelt among these benighted savages that I pray I may live and die in peace, without being compelled to draw another drop of blood from the veins of my fellow-creatures—but on, lads, on, we must not longer waste the time when relentless foes are following us, and sure I am that the savages will not allow you to escape without an attempt to recover you."

Saying this, Captain Audley took his son's arm, and together they hastened on in the direction they had before been proceeding. Still, as he had said, he found that he could not run at the speed at which they had been going. Both Gilbert and Fenton, however, endeavoured to assure him that it was fast enough to enable them still to keep ahead of their pursuers. In this, however, they were wrong: scarcely had they proceeded more than a league when Gilbert, striking his foot against a root, stumbled, and as he recovered himself, turning his head he saw a large band of Indians appearing above the brow of a slight hill they had crossed half a mile or so back. The cry he uttered made his companions look in the same direction.

"We shall have to try your plan, Fenton," he said in a tone which lacked not cheerfulness. "Father, under your eye we shall fight with confidence."

"We have time, at all events, to choose our ground," said Captain Audley, looking round; "yonder tree by the river's bank will serve our purpose, and at the last, should your ammunition fail, and my arrows all be shot away, we may plunge into the stream and swim along it till we gain the opposite bank, whence we can float down the current on a raft till we meet our countrymen, encamped, as I hear, some leagues on— though I know not their exact position." This was said as they were making their way towards a huge tree the roots of which projecting far into the water, left the ground on the near side sufficiently smooth to enable them to slip round it for the purpose of firing. As they had seen the Indians, they knew that they must themselves have been discovered. They had but little time to wait, for the savages with loud cries were rapidly approaching, exhibiting on their spears the scalps they had that morning taken from their unsuspecting foes, surprised in the village.

Gilbert and Fenton quickly loaded and stood ready to fire directly an arrow should be drawn against them. The savages, however, having got almost, within range of their pieces, halted, unwilling to expose themselves to the deadly balls, of whose searching power they had so much dread. Gilbert, who lay sheltered by a high root, observed the larger portion of them moving away to the left, evidently with the intention of surrounding the tree which now afforded them shelter.

"The cunning redskins think they have us in a trap," he said; "but the tree will still serve our purpose and those who approach will pay dear for their boldness."

The Indians, however, still kept at a distance, though he caught sight of them moving round the clumps of trees towards the east. He and Fenton stood ready with their pieces to pick off the first who should venture near enough to be reached. At length they appeared, advancing under such shelter as the trees afforded, each Indian with an arrow in his bow ready to shoot.

"Now," cried Gilbert, "my piece covers one of their chief men; have you marked another?"

The Indians at that instant set up one of those fearful yells which they use to intimidate their foes. It was replied to by a cheer which could come from none but British throats.

"Stay," cried Captain Audley, "we shall be saved without firing a shot: here come our friends."

The Indians heard the cheer, and casting their eyes down the stream, instantly sprang back to regain the shelter they had just quitted. A few shots were heard fired among the trees, which considerably hastened their flight, though none were hit, and long before the boat pulling against the current could reach the tree, every Indian on that side had disappeared, while the rest were seen retreating at full speed towards the hill over which they had come. Captain Audley and his companions now hastened on to meet the boat. The first person who sprang on shore was Vaughan, who knew him even before Gilbert had time to shout, "Here is our father!"

They were all quickly on board, for though some proposed following the Indians, Captain Audley urged them to spare those who could no longer injure them, and might, he hoped, with proper treatment become their friends. Having greeted Roger and Oliver, and thanked them and their followers for the exertions they had made to rescue him, he proposed that they should forthwith descend the river and get speedily on board the Rainbow. He explained that Wamsutah had willingly released him on his promise to send back a ransom. Having stopped for a brief space of time to bid farewell to Oncagua, promising him also a present to console him for the loss of Virginia, they continued their voyage down the river, the rapids, under Ben's pilotage, being passed in safety.

As may be supposed, they received a warm greeting from Captain Layton, who declared that the satisfaction he felt at the recovery of his old friend was the greatest he had ever enjoyed. The Rainbow was immediately got under weigh, and without the loss of a single member of her crew, and with the recovered ones on board, in addition to the young maiden, she returned to James Town.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Words would fail to describe the meeting of Captain Audley with his wife and daughter. Mistress Audley, could tell her husband that she had been buoyed up, not by false hopes, but by trusting One who orders all for the best; and their hearts were lifted up in gratitude to Him Who had seen fit to reunite them on earth; albeit, having the same blessed faith, they had looked forward to a joyous meeting in Heaven. Vaughan soon after returned, and became the husband of Cicely; but Lettice had to undergo another trial. Captain Layton had to fulfil his promise to his crew to go in search of a Spaniard, the object of his previous adventure being accomplished. He was not a man to swerve from his word, although he would fain have remained at the settlement, and enjoyed that rest which those advancing in life desire. It happened one evening that as Roger and Gilbert were walking along the banks of the river, they caught sight of a small boat pulling rapidly down the stream, with two men in her. Directly afterwards they encountered Fenton.

"I have just seen that fellow Flowers shove off with another man," he said, "and when I demanded where they were going, he would give me no answer. He has been holding correspondence with a strange Indian who came up from the mouth of the river, and has since been trying to gain over several of the ill-disposed in the settlement, for some object which has not transpired."

"Then let us follow him," exclaimed Roger, "the Rainbow's boat is near at hand, and we may speedily overtake the traitor, if traitor he is."

They hastened on board the Rainbow, and wisely putting some provisions and water into the boat, pulled away in chase of Flowers. The skiff possessed by the latter was a fast one, and though they pulled on all night they failed to come up with her. Sometimes they thought that they must have passed her; if so, they hoped to meet her as she was coming down at daylight. Just as they were nearing Hampton Roads, they caught sight of a stout ship standing out past Old Comfort Point, with the skiff of which they were in search towing astern. They immediately redoubled their efforts; but before they could come up with her, the breeze freshening, she stood away out to sea.

"That craft is a Spaniard, though she shows no colours," exclaimed Roger.

"No doubt about it, sir," observed Ben Tarbox, who was pulling the stroke oar, "and that accounts for why Master Nicholas was praising the Spaniards. To my mind he is half a Spaniard himself; I thought no good would come of his beads and his crosses, his paters and aves."

"What; was he a Romanist, then?" asked Gilbert.

"As arrant a one as I ever set eyes on," replied Ben; "and, if he had had his will, he would have liked to make us all Romanists too, and burn us at the stake, as they did in Mary's time."

"He is welcome to his religion," said Roger, "but if he is playing false to the settlement, he will have yet to repent it. Lads, we must hasten back on board the Rainbow, and go in chase of yonder Don. If she has any evil design, she will be hovering round the coast for some time to come."

His proposal was received with a loud cheer, and the crew giving way, the boat, aided by the flood-tide, pulled back to James Town. The Rainbow was ready for sea, with the captain on board. A short note to Lettice, telling her that they had gone to catch the Don, and not omitting such expressions of affection as his heart prompted, was all Roger had time to write. The breeze being fair, and the river now well known, the Rainbow, under all sail, was soon rounding Old Comfort Point. She had not got far down the Chesapeake when a sail was seen ahead, standing to the southward, which made Captain Layton and his crew only the more eager to come up with her. For all that night and the next day the chase continued; but the Rainbow kept the Don in sight, and, ere evening closed in, ranged up on her quarter, firing a broadside and receiving hers in return.

"We'll make short work of it, lads," cried the captain, ordering the helm to be put to starboard, and running on board the Spaniard. Grappling-irons secured her, and, led by Roger, the British crew were quickly on her deck. Among the Spaniards was seen Nicholas Flowers, fighting desperately; but they could not long withstand British muscle and valour, and, ere five minutes were over, the Spanish ensign was hauled down, her crew cried for quarter, and the patache Nuestra Senora del Pilar de Saragossa became a prize to the Rainbow.

She was richly laden, with a large store of provisions on board; these, with the best part of her lading, and all her arms and ammunition, were transferred to the Rainbow. The captain having no wish to detain the survivors of her officers and crew, they were allowed to go on board, with sufficient provisions to carry them back to their own country, provided they were not captured by a Salle rover on their homeward voyage. The Rainbow having seen Nuestra Senora del Pilar de Saragossa safe out of the harbour, with her teeth thus drawn, proceeded up the river, carrying Master Nicholas Flowers and his companion, one Dick Trunnion, who swore that he had been beguiled to undertake the adventure by Nicholas, not knowing his object. He, moreover, declared that Master Nicholas was the very man who had piloted the Armada which came so proudly to conquer England, dethrone the queen, and establish the Holy Inquisition in the land; and that he had plotted to deliver up the settlement to the Spaniards, who would speedily have committed all the heretics who declined to conform to their faith to the flames. On their arrival at James Town, Master Nicholas was delivered over to the authorities, and his guilt being proved, he was hanged on board a ship in which Sir Thomas Gates shortly afterwards returned to England. The arms were claimed by the authorities; the rich lading of the prize was divided among the crew of the Rainbow, the officers coming in for their share.

"Lads," said Ben Tarbox, as the division of the spoil was being made, "there is a young maiden whom we all know in the settlement, the firstborn here, and the only one alive of our countrymen and countrywomen who once dwelt in the land. She is dowerless and friendless, except her young brother and an old grandfather, who maybe sleeps in his grave by this time. I am ready to give half of my share, and I invite those among us who have no kith or kin to give up such portion of theirs as they may think fit; being very sure that it would be thus better expended than it will be after the fashion many of us are apt to get rid of our rhino. Those who think with me hold up their hands, and those who don't, keep theirs in their pockets."

Ben's appeal was liberally replied to, and no one refused to give a handsome portion of his share to the fatherless orphan.

Meantime, Mistress Lettice had been labouring diligently to instruct the uncultivated mind of Virginia, who rapidly improved under her tuition. From no one, however, did she obtain so much instruction as from her brother, who, during every moment he could spare from his duties, devoted himself to teaching her. Her astonishment at seeing the lovely Pocahontas, dressed in the English fashion, and possessing far more knowledge of English customs than herself, knew no bounds, and instigated her to still greater exertions; so that, ere long, she distanced the young bride in book-learning, if not in other accomplishments. Harry Rolfe, indeed, at length became persuaded that, while his wife remained in the country, she would make but slow progress in such accomplishments as he wished her to acquire, and resolved to take her to England. Mistress Audley warned him of the danger of transplanting the flower of a southern region to a northern clime; but he disregarded her admonitions, and sailed some months after his marriage. News then came of the admiration his young bride, the beautiful savage, as she was called, excited at court; then, that she had given birth to a son, and afterwards, that she and her husband were about to return. But, alas! by the next ship came the account of her early death; though Harry brought back his boy to the land of his adoption, regretting that he had ever left it.

Roger had for some time been rewarded with the hand of Lettice, but the old captain, discontented, as many were, with the state of the colony, proposed to return to his old home on the shore of Plymouth Sound, still kept up by his faithful steward Barnaby Toplight. Captain and Mistress Audley, hearing of his intentions, the former especially longing to see once more his native land, determined to accompany him. Roger and Lettice, though not weary of the colony, were unwilling to let him go alone to a solitary home, and he gladly accepted their offer to return with him. Virginia had daily grown in their affections, and as they felt sure that her presence would cheer the declining days of her grandfather, they invited her and Oliver to accompany them, it being settled that the latter should return after a time to Vaughan, should he so wish.

The Rainbow arrived safe in England; Oliver and his sister were affectionately received by their grandfather. From that day forward he would scarcely part from Virginia, so completely did she entwine herself round his heart.

"Ah!" she used to say, "I obeyed my Indian grandfather, Oncagua, from fear; but I like to do what you tell me because I love you, and you are so kind."

She little thought how firmly her image remained impressed on the stern warrior's heart, of which he afterwards gave a strong proof.

Oliver and Virginia remained with the old man, who, however, worn out by age and disappointment, died in their arms, tended dutifully by them to the last. Oliver had long desired to go back to the colony his sister refusing to be separated from him, and her education being now considerably advanced, they obtained the sanction of Mistress Audley to return thither. They sailed in the Rainbow, under the command of Roger Layton.

While he was away, the old captain invited Mistress Audley and her husband to stay with him and their daughter; a home they never afterwards quitted, as Captain Layton dying, they lived on with Lettice and Roger, who gave over the command of the ship to Fenton; for Gilbert had settled with his brother in the colony. Having established a home, he persuaded Virginia, ere long, to become its mistress.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Some years passed away. Powhattan was dead; the Indians appeared as friendly as ever, but the tie which had bound them to the palefaces was broken.

Several towns and villages had sprung up in various directions; some on the banks of the river below James Town; others some way above it, in the interior. Among these was Williamsburg, which had been founded on the spot where Rolfe and his party had been attacked by the Indians, when by Canochet's timely warning they had been so providentially saved from being cut off. The whole face of this part of the country was now completely changed; comfortable dwellings, orchards, gardens, and fields covered the ground before occupied by the dark forest, while a bridge was thrown over the stream, which was usefully employed in turning a mill to grind the corn of the settlers. Among the principal people in the neighbourhood was Vaughan Audley, who resided on an estate about three miles from the town, while Gilbert and his young wife had been for some time established in a cottage close to Williamsburg. Their old friend Fenton never failed to pay them a visit when the Rainbow came to James Town to bring them news of their relatives at home, as also the various necessaries they required from the old country. They were, as has been said, on the best of terms with the Indians, who came frequently into the town, mixing freely with the settlers, often bringing presents of deer and wild turkeys which they had shot, and fish which they had caught in their streams, and those fruits which abounded in their forests. Even those who at one time had been looked upon as enemies now took much pains to show the settlers that they wished to live in amity with them. Thus were lulled any suspicions the English might have entertained of the natives, and they fondly hoped that they were to retain peaceful possession of the country.

Virginia was seated with her husband one evening, when a dark form appeared at the open door. "Manita," said a voice, "one who held you to his bosom when you were still a helpless infant comes to warn you and him whom you love of a sudden and fearful danger. Escape with me, and I will protect you—remain, and your doom is sealed."

"Who are you, that we should thus trust you?" asked Gilbert.

"Oncagua," answered the Indian; "she once knew me; does she forget me now?"

"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Virginia, starting up and grasping the Indian's hands, which she placed on her head; "my ever kind protector; I should indeed be ungrateful could I have forgotten you. What my husband desires, I will do."

"We thank you, chief," said Gilbert, "but we have friends here whom we cannot desert; whatever may be the danger, we must remain and share it with them."

The chief stood lost in thought. "I understand you," he said, "you are right. I came to save her alone, but her friends must be my friends. Tell them to be prepared for a sudden attack from the surrounding tribes, or ere another sun has set not a paleface in the country will be left alive. I know no one I would entrust my message to, but have journeyed night and day, across streams, and through forests, and over hills to utter the warning. Swear that you will follow my advice, or I will stay and perish with you."

Virginia, knowing that Oncagua spoke the truth, entreated Gilbert to do as he wished. He no longer hesitated; and the old chief, taking another fond look at Virginia, disappeared from the door-way.

Happily, Oliver Dane, who lived with Vaughan Audley, was expected that evening to pay them a visit. Anxiously they waited his arrival. Virginia could not help fearing that the Indians might have attacked him on the way, and Gilbert was equally alarmed for Vaughan and Cicely's safety.

"I cannot leave you, dear one, alone," he said; "and yet there is not a moment to be lost."

"Do not fear for me," she answered. "Go and warn our neighbours,— persuade them to put the town into a state of defence. I will wait here till Oliver arrives, and give him such directions as you may leave with me."

Gilbert sat down with his hands on his brow, considering what steps it would be necessary to take; for the lives of all the inhabitants of the colony might depend upon his decision, should no one else have received a warning of what was about to occur. His plans were quickly formed; he must immediately despatch to James Town and other places further off bold and trusty messengers to induce the inhabitants to take proper measures for their preservation; while he himself determined to collect a body of friends, and to hasten as fast as their steeds could carry them to the assistance of Vaughan, leaving Oliver for the protection of Virginia. It cost him much to decide thus, but he intended to try and persuade Vaughan and Cicely to accompany him back to the town rather than to attempt defending the house, which was ill-calculated to resist a prolonged attack by the Indians. It took him but a brief space of time to arrive at this decision. Hastily buckling on his sword, placing his pistols in his belt, and taking down his gun from the wall, he stood ready to set out.

At that instant Oliver, now grown into a fine young man, arrived. Gilbert briefly told him of the warning brought by Oncagua, and explained the measures he intended to take.

"Oh! let me accompany you to Vaughan's," exclaimed Virginia, when she heard of his intention to go there. "I shall be of assistance to Cicely and her little ones, and I cannot bear the thoughts of being separated from you at a time of such fearful peril."

"If she wishes it, I will place a pillion on my horse, and she can ride behind me," said Oliver. "I would far rather fight for my kind friends than remain behind; and I doubt whether the peril to her will be greater should she accompany us than should she remain behind."

To this Gilbert consented; and while Oliver went to prepare the steeds, he sallied forth to find the principal persons, to whom it was necessary to impart the information he had received. Scarcely had he got ten paces from the house when a voice, which he recognised as that of his old friend Fenton, hailed him.

"You have, indeed, arrived most opportunely," he said, as he grasped Fenton's hand; and then taking him by the arm, hurried him along with him while he detailed what he had heard, and the proceedings he intended to adopt. "We want a man of courage and judgment to take command of the town, and I can answer for it that you will do so. People will obey you," he added.

"In truth, I was on my way to tell you and Vaughan of a warning I myself received this morning, on my arrival in the river, from our old friend Canochet," answered Fenton. "Scarcely had I dropped my anchor than he came on board from the southern side and desired to see me privately in the cabin. He then told me that his tribe were friendly, but he had just cause to doubt the Indians of Powhattan's country, and that although he could not give me any definite information, he was very sure a speedy outbreak was in contemplation. He advised that I should induce my friends to come on board the Rainbow, and to sail away immediately. He quickly returned on shore, and I hastened to inform the Governor of what I had heard. Your messenger will, I trust, induce him to take more determined measures for defending the town than he might otherwise have thought necessary."

Captain Fenton's arrival was of great assistance to Gilbert in winning his fellow-townsmen to a sense of their danger. The chief magistrate immediately sent round and summoned all the adult population of the place to meet him without delay. Letters were then despatched to James Town and in other directions with the request that those who received them would send on the warning to places further off. Gilbert then asked for volunteers to accompany him to the assistance of his brother. Four only appeared,—indeed, the magistrate afforded no encouragement for the men to go, wishing to keep them for the defence of the place. Gilbert was in despair, when a grey-headed old man on a rough pony, armed with a big gun, a cutlass, and a huge pair of pistols, came clattering up to the council-house.

"What!" he exclaimed, when he heard Gilbert's last appeal; "are none of you ready to go and help the daughter and son-in-law of my old commander, Captain Amyas Layton? And from what I hear, they and their young children will be put to death unless a dozen or more true men are ready to fight in their defence. You all know me, Ben Tarbox,—some of you knew my old captain, and have sailed with him, too,—I don't want to weaken the defence of the town, but I ask for just a few stout hands who will defend Master Audley's house; and when the Indians find that we can keep them at bay, as I am sure we shall, they'll not think it worth while to come and attack the town."

Ben's appeal was responded to by even more men than he required. He chose eight, which, with the four who had before volunteered, himself, Gilbert, and Oliver, made fifteen, all well armed. As they expected to find four men at least with Audley, they would muster twenty—a number sufficient, inside a log-built house, to withstand a whole host of Indians.

A considerable portion of the night was spent before they were all ready to set out. Gilbert found Virginia and Oliver ready to mount, and without loss of time they commenced their journey. Those on foot were hardy, active men, who could almost keep pace with their horses for the distance they had to go. Gilbert was vexed at the delay which had occurred, lest in the mean time, eager to commence their work of slaughter, the Indians might have attacked the house. He and Oliver, riding on either side of Virginia, accompanied by Ben and the rest of the horsemen, pushed on, leaving the men on foot to follow as fast as they could. The horses' hoofs were scarcely heard on the soft ground. They had got almost within sight of the house, when Gilbert caught sight of the figure of an Indian running at full speed. Another and another started up. It was evident they had been taken by surprise. Gilbert called to his companions, who dashed on; but the Indians turning into the still uncleared forest on the right, were lost to sight. Their flight, and the hour they were on the road, showed that their intentions were evil.

"They were probably waiting till the family should come out of the house in the early morning to set upon them," observed Gilbert to Oliver. "Thank Heaven we are in time to prevent their design."

Though anxious to place Virginia in safety, he was doubting whether, with the enemy so close at hand, it was not his duty to wait for the rest of the party on foot.

"No, no, Master Gilbert; you go on and get the young lady safe inside the house, and I'll trot back and let our friends know that there are Indians abroad, so that they may not be taken by surprise," cried Ben, who, not waiting for an answer, set off at once; while Gilbert and the rest of the horsemen galloped on, closely surrounding Virginia, till they reached the front of Vaughan's house. Gilbert's shouts quickly awakened Vaughan, who, recognising his brother's voice, hastened down to the door. In a few words Gilbert explained the reason of their coming to his brother, who having had no suspicions of the Indians, confessed that he should have admitted them into the house without hesitation. The appearance of the Indians in the neighbourhood decided him on remaining to defend his house, instead of seeking for protection in the town, as Gilbert had at first proposed. The horses were immediately taken round to the back of the house, and, as they would certainly be killed if left in the stables, they were all brought inside and placed in an unfurnished room.

"I am indeed grateful to you, my brave sister-in-law, for thus coming to my help," exclaimed Cicely, as she embraced Virginia.

Vaughan and Gilbert, with the other gentlemen, and the labourers who had slept in the house, immediately set to work to block up all the lower windows and doors, only leaving sufficient loopholes for their muskets. Every receptacle they possessed for holding water was also filled from the well, both to afford them the means of quenching their thirst and to enable them to extinguish any fire which might burst forth. While they were thus employed, Ben's voice was heard announcing the arrival of himself and the party on foot, who were at once admitted at the back entrance. To prevent the Indians from finding shelter in the outhouses, they were, under Ben's superintendence, quickly pulled down, the materials enabling them still further to fortify the house.

Daylight found them still busily occupied. The fact of their not being as yet attacked convinced them that it was but a small party of Indians they had surprised; probably they, however, would summon a larger body, should they have determined to attack the house. The garrison were anxious to ascertain if their foes were near; but the stealthy way in which the Indians are accustomed to approach an enemy made it dangerous to send out scouts, who would almost to a certainty have been cut off. Oliver and Gilbert, however, took post by turns on the roof, whence they could obtain a view round on every side, and get sight of the Indians should they draw near.

The morning passed away in perfect quiet; the hour indicated by Oncagua was approaching,—Gilbert only hoped that other places were as well prepared as they were. Dinner had been partaken of, and most of the men, who had been up all night, were lying down to obtain the rest they needed, when Oliver, looking through a trap which opened on the roof, exclaimed, "They are coming!"

The next instant the word was passed through the lower rooms,—the men sprang to their feet, and each one hastened to his appointed post. They had not long to wait, for issuing from the border of the forest appeared a large band of Indians adorned with war-paint and feathers.

"I only wish we had one of the Rainbow's guns mounted on the roof, and we'd pretty soon make those fellows put about ship," exclaimed Ben, when he saw them. It was almost impossible to count the Indians as they spread out on either hand, but Gilbert calculated that there were at least several hundreds of them. Trusting to their numbers, they came on fearlessly, uttering their dreadful war-whoops.

"Wait till I give the order to fire," cried Gilbert, who, at Vaughan's request, had taken command. "Let not a shot be thrown away, nor a word be spoken."

The Indians came on, again and again uttering those terrific whoops, but no reply was made. They might have supposed that the house was untenanted; still they advanced till they got within range of the garrison's fire-arms.

"Go back whence you came, or advance at your peril," shouted Gilbert.

The Indians replied by a shower of arrows.

"Now fire, my lads," cried Gilbert, and all the men having collected on one side, discharged a volley which brought well nigh a score of Indians to the ground. The rest wavered, though they did not fly. Time was thus afforded to the garrison to reload, and another volley almost as destructive as the first was fired. Many sprang back and gazed around with looks of astonishment, supposing that the defenders of the house were twice as numerous as was the case. Still, urged on by their chiefs, they discharged another flight of arrows, but, shot at random, they caused no injury. Gilbert again ordered his men to fire, but the Indians, as they looked round and saw so many of their tribe struck down on the ground, were seized with a panic, and as the bullets again flew among them, they turned and fled.

Some of the party proposed mounting their horses and following them up, but Gilbert advised that they should retain their advantageous post, as it was probable that the Indians would rally and return to the attack. They had, however, received a lesson not easily forgotten, and where they had expected to overcome a few unprepared people, they had met with a determined resistance. Great reason had Gilbert to be thankful to Oncagua for his timely warning. A vigilant watch was kept during the night, but no enemy appeared.

The next morning one of their party volunteered to set off to the town, and in a short time he came back with the intelligence that it had been assailed by the enemy, who had been driven back with great slaughter. James Town in the same way had been preserved; but in a few days sad news came from the remote ones, where, before the messengers arrived the Indians had begun to put into execution the sanguinary plan they had conceived for the destruction of all the palefaces in the country, and several hundreds were massacred. More ships arriving shortly afterwards with fresh settlers, a fearful retribution overtook the Indians, and the country which once they called their own knows them no more.

Gilbert, grateful to the old chief for the service he had rendered, despatched Oliver Dane at the head of an expedition by water to invite him to James Town, where he might be safe from the vengeance of his countrymen, should they discover that he had warned the English of their intended treachery. Oliver returned in two weeks, bringing Oncagua with him. "The old chief has come, at your call," he said, "though my days on earth are few; but ere I go, I would gain more of the wonderful knowledge which changed my Manita into what I now see her; and that, more than the fear of my foes, induced me to accept your invitation."

From that day forward Oncagua seldom went beyond the house and surrounding garden. He gained, however, knowledge he did not seek, for Virginia, aided by Cicely, laboured diligently to instruct him in the truths of the Gospel, and ere he was summoned from earth he could exclaim with confidence "I know that my Redeemer liveth."

The trials and dangers through which our various friends had gone, had taught them also an important lesson, to put their trust in their loving Father, all mighty to save, and gratefully to acknowledge from their own experience that whatsoever He orders is for the best.

THE END.