Part 12 (1/2)
”Does Pennsylvania still blame Michael Cresap for the death of Logan's people?” asked the governor.
”Many of them do, because Connolly reduced him in rank. His reinstatement at Your Excellency's command is not so generally known.”
”Confusion and bickering!” wrathfully exclaimed the governor. ”Virginia demanding a decisive war--England opposed to it. Our militia captains stealing each other's men--Sir William Johnson's death is most untimely.”
Sir William Johnson dead! For the moment I was stunned. My facial expression was so p.r.o.nounced that His Excellency kindly added:
”The sad news has just reached us. Never was he needed more and wanted more. The colonies have been so used to having him hold the Iroquois in check that few have paused to picture what might happen if his influence were removed from the Six Nations.”
He rose and paced the room for a few turns. Then with a short bow to me he addressed the colonel, saying:
”With your permission, Colonel, I believe I shall retire for an hour. When the man Ward comes I wish to question him.”
”By all means, Your Excellency, take a bit of rest. I shall call you if the fellow comes.”
I turned to go and the colonel walked with me to the door, urging me to return and remain his guest that night. I thanked him, explaining an acceptance of his kind offer would depend on circ.u.mstances. He walked with me to my horse and with a side-glance at the house softly inquired:
”What do the people over the mountains and in Pennsylvania say about the Quebec Bill now before Parliament?”
”I do not remember hearing it mentioned. I do not think any of the settlers are interested in it.”
”Not interested!” he groaned. ”And if it is approved[3] by Parliament the American colonies will be robbed of hundreds of thousands of square miles of territory. They will lose the lands which already have been given them in their own charters. Think of Virginia and Pennsylvania quarreling over the junction of two rivers when we stand fair to lose all the country west of the Alleghanies. Young man, there's going to be war.” This was very softly spoken.
”We're in it now,” I stupidly replied.
”I am speaking of war with England,” he whispered.
I could scarcely accept it as being a true prophecy. I was not disturbed by it. The quarreling between colonies and the mother-country was an old story. Hiding my skepticism I asked, ”When will it begin?”
”It began in 1763, when the English Ministry decided to collect revenues from the colonies,” was the quiet reply. ”It will soon be open war. I verily believe I am entertaining in my humble home to-day the last royal governor of Virginia.”
[3] The Quebec Bill, to take effect in 1775, was approved June 22, 1774, or before Colonel Lewis and Morris had their conversation.
CHAPTER V
LOVE COMES A CROPPER
”I am speaking of a war with England.” These words of Colonel Lewis rang in my ears as I rode to Salem. They had sounded fantastic when he uttered them. Now that I was alone they repeated themselves most ominously. The flying hoofs of my horse pounded them into my ears. War with England was unthinkable, and yet the colonel's speech lifted me up to a dreary height and I was gazing over into a new and very grim world.
For years, from my first connected thoughts, there had been dissension after dissension between England and America. My father before me had lived through similar disputes. But why talk of war now? Many times the colonies had boiled over a bit; then some concession was made, and what our orators had declared to be a crisis died out and became a dead issue.
To be sure another ”crisis” always took the place of the defunct one, but the great fact remained that none of those situations had led to war.
Perhaps if some one other than Colonel Lewis had indulged in the dire foreboding it would have made less of an impression. At the time he spoke the words I had not been disturbed. Now that I was remembering what an unemotional level-headed man he was the effect became acc.u.mulative. The farther I left Richfield behind and the longer I mulled over his sinister statement the more I worried.
As I neared Salem my meditations continued disquieting and yet were highly pleasing. I was on my way to meet Patricia Dale. I was born on the Mattapony and left an orphan at an early age. I had gone to Williamsburg when turning sixteen, and soon learned to love and wear gold and silver buckles on a pewter income.
In my innocence, rather ignorance, I unwittingly allowed my town acquaintances to believe me to be a chap of means. When I discovered their false estimate I did not have the courage to disillusion them. My true spending-pace was struck on my eighteenth birthday, and inside the year I had wasted my King William County patrimony.
Just what process of reasoning I followed during that foolish year I have never been able to determine. I must have believed it to be imperative that I live up to the expectations of my new friends. As a complement to this idiotic obsession there must have been a grotesque belief that somehow, by accident or miracle, I would be kept in funds indefinitely. I do recall my amazement at the abrupt ending of my dreams. I woke up one morning to discover I had no money, no a.s.sets. There were no odds and ends, even, of wreckage which I could salvage for one more week of the old life.