The Privateer's-Man, One hundred Years Ago

“What’s the truth, James?” cried the mistress, coming in at the door. “Let’s hear the truth from your lips, it will be something new.”

“I said that I was sent here for finding a pocket-book, mistress; that’s all.”

“Yes; but you did not tell him where you found it—at the bottom of a gentleman’s coat-pocket, you know. You can only tell the truth by halves yet, I see.”

Wishing to ascertain how far the man’s suspicions were correct, I said to her,

“I have good friends in James Town: if I were once there I could procure money and any thing else to any amount that I required.”

“Well,” says she, “you may have; but I’m afraid that the post don’t go out to-day. One would think, after all your wanderings and difficulties, that you’d be glad to be quiet a little, and remain here; so we’ll talk about James Town some time about next spring.”

“Indeed, mistress, I hope you will not detain me here. I can pay you handsomely, on my arrival at James Town, for your kind treatment and any trouble you may take for me.”

“Pay me! what do I want with money?—there’s no shops here with ribbons, and calicoes, and muslins; and if there were, I’m not a fine madam. Money! why I’ve no child to leave what I have to—no husband to spend it for me. I have bags and bags of dollars, young man, which my husband heaped up, and they are of as much use to me as they are now to him.”

“I am glad that you are so rich, mistress, and more glad that your money is so little cared for and so little wanted; but if you do not want money, I do very much want to get back to my friends, who think I am dead, and mourn for me.”

“Well, if they have mourned, their sorrow is over by this time, and therefore your staying here will not distress them more. I may as well tell you at once that you shall not go; so make up your mind to be contented, and you’ll fare none the worse for it.”

This was said in so decided a tone, that, bearing in mind what I had heard from the convict servant, I thought it advisable to push the question no further for the present, making up my mind that I would wait a short time, and then make my escape, if she still persisted in detaining me by force; but this I could not venture upon until I was in possession of fire-arms, and I could not obtain them while she had any suspicion. I therefore replied—

“Well, since you are determined I shall not go, I have nothing more to say, except that I will wait your pleasure, and, in the mean time, let me make myself as useful as I can, for I don’t want to eat the bread of idleness.”

“You’re a very sensible young man,” replied she; “and now you shall have a shirt to put on, which will improve your appearance a great deal.”

She then went into the inner room, which I presumed was her bed-room, as there were but two rooms in the cabin. As she went out, I could not help wondering at her. On examination, I felt assured that she was more than six feet high, and her shoulders as broad and her arms as nervous as a man’s of that stature. Her chest was very expanded, but bosom she had none. In fact, she was a man in woman’s clothing, and I began to doubt her sex. Her features were not bad, had they been of smaller dimensions, but her nose was too large, although it was straight; her eyes were grand, but they were surmounted with such coarse eyebrows; her mouth was well shaped, and her teeth were good and regular, but it was the mouth of an ogress; her walk was commanding and firm; every action denoted energy and muscle; and certainly, from the conversation I have already made known, her mind was quite as masculine as her body—she was a splendid monster. In a minute she returned, bringing me a good check shirt and a pair of duck trowsers, which I thankfully accepted.

“I’ve plenty more for those who please me,” said she, carelessly; “when you’ve put them on, come out to me, and I’ll show you the plantation.”

In a minute or two I joined her, and she led me round the tobacco-fields, then to the maize or Indian corn grounds, pointing out and explaining every thing. She also showed me the cows, store pigs, and poultry. Wishing to please her, I asked many questions, and pretended to take an interest in all I saw. This pleased her much, and once or twice she smiled—but such a smile! After an hour’s ramble we returned, and found the two servants very busy, one husking maize, and the other in the shed where the tobacco was dried. I asked some questions of her about the tobacco—how many casks or bales she made a year? She replied that she made it in bales, and sold it by weight.

“It must be heavy carriage from here to James Town?” said I.

“Yes, indeed, if it went that way it never would arrive, I imagine,” replied she; “but I have a sloop in the river below, which carries it round.”

“When is the time it is harvested and fit to be carried round?” inquired I.

“It is now turning fast,” said she; “all that you see hanging in the drying-sheds has been already drawn; in three or four weeks it will all be housed, and then we begin to pack: in about two months from this the sloop will take it round.”

“But is it not very expensive keeping a sloop on purpose, with men to have her in charge?” inquired I, to hear what she would say.

“The sloop lies at anchor, without a soul on board,” said she. “No one ever comes up this river. I believe Captain Smith, who made the settlement, did do so once. There is another river, about twenty miles farther down, which is occasionally frequented by buccaneers, I am told—indeed, I know it, for my husband had more to do with them than perhaps was good for his soul, but this little river is never visited.”

“Then your servants take her round?”

“Yes; I leave one in charge, and take two with me.”

“But you have but two.”

“Not till you came—one died; but now I have three,” and she smiled at me again.

If I had not been so afraid of affronting her, I certainly would have said to her, “Do any thing, I beg, but smile.”

I said no more on that point. She called Jeykell, who was in the tobacco-shed, and desired him to kill a couple of chickens, and bring them in. We then entered the cabin, and she observed—

“I don’t doubt but you are tired with so much fatigue; you look so; go and sleep on one of their beds; you shall have one for yourself by night.”

I was not sorry to do as she proposed, for I was tired out. I lay down, and did not wake till she called me and told me that dinner was ready. I was quite ready for that also, and I sat down with her, but the two convict servants did not. She ate in proportion to her size, and that is saying enough. After dinner she left me, and went with her two men on her farming avocations, and I was for a long while cogitating on what had passed. I perceived that I was completely in her power, and that it was only by obtaining her good-will that I had any chance of getting away, and I made up my mind to act accordingly. I found a comfortable bed, of the husks of Indian corn, prepared for me at night, in an ante-room where the two servant-men slept. It was a luxury that I had not enjoyed for a long while. For several days I remained very quiet, and apparently very contented. My mistress gave me no hard work, chiefly sending me on messages or taking me out with her. She made the distinction between me and the convicts that I always took my meals with her and they did not. In short, I was treated as a friend and visitor more than any thing else, and had I not been so anxious about going to England, I certainly had no reason to complain except of my detention, and this, it was evident, it was not in her power to prevent, as, until the sloop went away with the tobacco, she had no means of sending me away. One day, however, as I was walking past the tobacco-shed, I heard my name mentioned by the two convicts, and stopping, I heard James say,

“Depend upon it, that’s what she’s after, Jeykell; and he is to be our master, whether he likes it or not.”

“Well, I shouldn’t wonder,” replied the other; “she does make pure love to him, that’s certain.”

“Very true; every thing’s fierce with her—even love—and so he’ll find it if he don’t fancy her.”

“Yes, indeed:—well, I’d rather serve another ten years than she should fall in love with me.”

“And if I had my choice, whether to be her husband or to swing, I should take the cord in preference.”

“Well, I pity him from my heart; for he is a good youth, and a fair-spoken and a handsome, too; and I’m sure that he has no idea of his unfortunate situation.”

“No idea, indeed,” said I to myself, as I walked away. “Merciful Heaven! is it possible!” And when I thought over her conduct, and what had passed between us, I perceived not only that the convicts were right in their supposition, but that I had, by wishing to make myself agreeable to her, even assisted in bringing affairs to this crisis.

That very day she had said to me: “I was very young when I married, only fourteen, and I lived with my husband nine years. He is dead more than a year now.”

When she said that, which she did at dinner, while she was clawing the flesh off the bone of a wild turkey, there was something so ridiculous in that feminine confession, coming from such a masculine mouth, that I felt very much inclined to laugh, but I replied,

“You are a young widow, and ought to think of another husband.”

Again, when she said, “If ever I marry again, it shall not be a man who has been burnt on the hand. No, no, my husband shall be able to open both hands and show them.”

I replied, “You are right there. I would never disgrace myself by marrying a convict.”

When I thought of these and many other conversations which had passed between us, I had no doubt, in my own mind, but that the convicts were correct in their suppositions, and I was disgusted at my own blindness.

“At all events,” said I to myself, after a long cogitation, “if she wants to marry me, she must go to James Town for a parson, and if I once get there, I will contrive, as soon as extra constables are sworn in, to break off the match.” But, seriously, I was in an awkward plight. There was something in that woman that was awful, and I could imagine her revenge to be most deadly. I thought the old Indian squaw to be bad enough, but this new mistress was a thousand times worse. What a hard fate, I thought, was mine, that I should be thus forced to marry against my will, and be separated from her whom I adored. I was a long while turning over the matter in my mind, and at last I resolved that I would make no alteration in my behaviour, but behave to her as before, and that if the affair was precipitated by my mistress, that I would be off to the woods, and take my chance of wild beasts and wild Indians, rather than consent to her wishes. I then went into the cabin, where I found her alone.

“Alexander,” said she (she would know my Christian name, and called me by it), “they say widows court the men, and that they are privileged to do so” (I turned pale, for I little thought that there was to be an explanation so soon); “at all events, whether they are or not, I know that a woman in my position cannot well expect a young man in yours to venture without encouragement. Now, Alexander, I have long perceived your feelings and your wishes, and I have only to say that mine are such as yours” (oh, I wish they were, thought I), “and therefore you have but to ask and to have.”

I was mute with fear and despair, and could not find a reply to make to her.

“Why do you not answer, Alexander? Do you think me too forward?”

“No,” stammered I; “you are very kind, but this is so unexpected—so unlooked for—so unhoped for—I am so overcome.”

Observe, Madam, how strangely the sexes were changed. I was the woman in this instance.

“I should like to consult my friends.”

“Consult your fiddlesticks,” replied she, quickly. “Who have you got to consult? I hope, Alexander,” said she, setting her broad teeth together, “that you are not trifling with me?”

“Indeed, I never should think of trifling with you, mistress,” replied I. “I feel much obliged to you for showing such a preference for me.”

“I think, Alexander, that you ought; so now then, if you please, give me your answer,” replied she.

“Had I been prepared for your kindness, I would have done so at once, but I have many serious questions to put to myself, and if you please, we will renew the subject to-morrow morning. I will then tell you candidly how I am situated; and if after that you do not withdraw your proposal, I shall be most happy to be yours as soon as we can go to James Town to be married.”

“If,” replied she, “you mean to insinuate, Alexander, that you have a wife in England, that is of no consequence in this settlement; for those who live here are free from all English marriages; and as for going to James Town, that is quite unnecessary. If the people in the settlement were to wait for a parson when they married, they would never be married at all. All that is necessary is, that we shall draw up an agreement of marriage, on paper, sign it, and have it witnessed. However, as I perceive that you are flurried, I will wait till to-morrow morning for your decision.”

My mistress then rose from her stool, and went into her chamber, shutting to the door with more emphasis than was at all agreeable to my nerves. I walked out into the open air to recover myself, and to reflect upon what course I should take in this awkward and dangerous dilemma. Marrying was out of the question—but how to avoid it? It was almost like being stopped by a highwayman. He says, “Your money or your life.” My mistress’s demand was, “Marriage or your life.” There was but one hope, which was to escape that very night, and take my chance in the woods, and so I resolved to do.

I did not go in till dark; my mistress was in her own room; the two convicts were sitting by the fire. I took my seat by them, but did not speak, except in a whisper, telling them that their mistress was not well, and that we had better go to bed, and not talk. They stared at me at the idea of the mistress being ill; they had never known her to complain of any thing since they resided with her; but the hint was sufficient. They went to bed, and so did I with my clothes on, watching the crevices of the door of her room to see if her lamp was out. In about half an hour the little thin beams through the chinks of her door disappeared, and then I knew that she had gone to bed. I watched two hours more before I ventured to stir. The convicts were both snoring loud, and effectually drowned any slight noise I might make in moving about. I went to the locker, secured all the cold meat for provision, took down one of the muskets and ammunition-belts, and having put the latter over my shoulders, I then took the musket in my hand and crept softly to the door of the cabin. Here was the only difficulty; once out, but five yards off, and I was clear. I removed the heavy wooden bar, without noise, and had now only to draw the bolt. I put my finger to it, and was sliding it gently and successfully back, when my throat was seized, and I was hurled back on the floor of the cabin. I was so stunned by the violence of the fall, that for a short time I was insensible. When I recovered, I felt a great weight upon my chest, and opening my eyes, found my mistress sitting upon me, and giving orders to the convicts, one of whom had already lighted the lamp.

“For mercy’s sake, get off my chest,” said I, in a faint voice.

“Yes, I will, but not yet,” replied my mistress. “Now, James, hand them to me.”

James handed some chains to his mistress, who, turning round as she sat on my body, made the manacle at the end of the chain fast round my ankle. This went with a snap-spring, which could not be opened without a key belonging to it. At last she rose off my body, and I could breathe free. She then called to the convicts, saying,

“Go both of you into the tobacco-shed, and wait there till I call you out. If I find you one foot nearer to us, I’ll flay you alive.”

The servants ran off as fast at they could. When they were gone, my mistress said,

“So you were about to escape, were you? You would avoid the chances of matrimony, and now you have other chances which you little dreamt of.”

“I thought it was the wisest thing that I could do,” replied I. “Since I must be plain, I am sacredly betrothed to another person, and I could not even for you break my faith. I meant to have told you so to-morrow morning, but I was afraid it would annoy you, and therefore I wished to go away without giving you any answer.”

“Well, Sir, I offered to be your wife, which would have made you my lord and master. You refuse it, and now I make you my slave. I give you your option; you shall either consent to be my husband, or you shall remain as you are, and toil hard; but any time that you think better of it, and are willing to embrace my offer, you will be free, and I will be as a wife in subjection.”

“So you say,” replied I; “but suppose I was to make you angry after I married you, you would do to me as you have done now. I may, perhaps, one day get free from this chain, but, once married to you, I am a slave for ever.”

“You may think otherwise before long,” replied she; “in the mean time, you may walk out and cool yourself.”

She then returned to her room, and I rose, having determined to walk out and cool myself, as she proposed; but when I was on my legs, I found that to the other end of the chain, which was very heavy, and about two yards long, was, riveted an iron ball of about thirty pounds weight, so that I could not walk without carrying this heavy weight in my hands, for it could not be dragged. I lifted up the iron ball, and went out of the house. I was no longer afraid of her. I was in too great a rage to fear any thing. As I calmed, I considered my case, and found it to be hopeless; as I thought of Amy, and the many months of hope deferred, I wept bitterly; and I had no consolation, for the reader may recollect that I lost my Bible when I was sent on shore, naked almost, by the rascally captain of the Transcendant.

I had now been twenty months away from Liverpool, and I felt as if my chance of seeing her that I loved was indeed hopeless. I might remain chained in such a solitude for years, or I might expire under her barbarous treatment, for I fully knew what I had to expect. However, I was resolved. I prayed fervently for support and succour in my time of trouble, and became more composed. I remained out the whole of the night, and watched the rising sun. The two convicts came out to their work, and shrugged their shoulders as they passed me, but they dared not speak to me.

My mistress at last came out. She commenced with abuse, but I gave no answer. She tried soothing, but I was mute. At last she became frantic in her passion, hurled me away from her, and after being dreadfully beaten, I fell to the ground. She put her foot upon my neck, and she stood there, looking like a fury. She loaded me with epithets, and then of a sudden went down on her knees by me, and begged my pardon, calling me her dear Alexander—her life—entreating me to accede to her wishes. Never was there such a tigress in love before, I really believe.

“Hear me,” replied I; “as long as I am chained, I never will give any answer upon the present subject, that I swear.”

She rose from my side, and walked away.

It is impossible, my dear Madam, for me to describe what I suffered from this woman for more than six weeks, during which she kept me chained in this way—at one time entreating me, the next moment kicking me, and throwing me down. I had no peace—my life became a burden to me, and I often entreated her, in mercy, to put an end to my sufferings. I also had my paroxysms of rage, and would then spurn her, spit at her, and do every thing I could, and say all that I could imagine, to show my hatred and contempt. At other times I was sullen, and that always annoyed her. She would bear my reproaches patiently—bear any thing, so long as I would talk; but if I remained obstinately silent, then, in a short time, her fury would break forth. I pitied her, notwithstanding her ill-treatment, for the woman did love me (after her own fashion) most intensely.

It was on the seventh week of my confinement on the chain, that one morning very early, as I was lying in the tobacco-shed, for she had turned me out of the cabin, I perceived among the trees, which were about three hundred yards from the cabin, two Indians, in what is called their war-paint, which is a sign that they were on a hostile excursion. I remained perfectly quiet, and well concealed, that I might watch them. The convicts had more than once told me that the Indians would attack us, in consequence of an insult which my mistress had offered to their chief, with whom her husband had been so friendly; and when they stated what had passed, I agreed with them that they would not fail to resent the insult as soon as they could. I had therefore always been on the look-out, but had never seen any Indians before. My mistress, to whom I had, in our days of sweet converse, spoken about them, always laughed at the idea of their attacking her, and said that they might come if they liked. She had made every preparation for them, as she had loop-holes stuffed up with moss just below the roof of the cabin, from which you could fire down upon them till they were within four yards of the cabin, and other loop-holes, from which you might shoot them when close to; the window and door were impregnable, and provided that we were once in the cabin, there was no doubt but that a serious, if not effectual, resistance might be made. That the Indians were reconnoitring the cabin was evident, and that they did not do so for nothing was equally certain. After a while, during which I made out six of them, they fell back in the wood, and disappeared. The dog at that moment came out to me, and it was probably the sight of the dog which made them retreat, as they feared that he would have given notice of their being so close to us. I waited till the convicts came out, and then I went into the cabin, and said,

“You drove me out of the house last night, and I come to return good for evil. As I lay in the tobacco-shed, I saw six Indians in the wood, to the east of the cabin, reconnoitring, and I have no doubt but that you will be attacked this night, so I give you notice.”

“And you hope that, by this fear of their attack, you will be set free, is it not?”

“It is perfectly indifferent to me whether I am or not. I have often asked you to put an end to my misery, and as you have not done it, I shall bless those Indians for the friendly act; a blow of a tomahawk will release me, if you will not.”

“Well, then, let them come with their tomahawks,” replied she, “and I will protect you from them, for no one shall release you but myself.”

“As you please,” replied I; “I have done my duty in telling you what I have seen, and you may take precautions or not; for myself I care nothing.”

So saying, I lifted up my ball of iron and went away out of the door. I remained out of doors the whole of the day, and therefore did not know whether my mistress took any precautions or not, but I told the two convicts what I had seen, and advised them not to go far from the cabin, as they would run great danger.

They inquired of me where I had seen the Indians, and I pointed out the spot in the wood, after which they went away. I was certain that the attack would be on this night, as there was no moon till three hours before daybreak; and as it was very dark, it would probably take place in the early part of the night. I had made up my mind what I would do, which was not in any way to defend the cabin while chained, but, when I was freed, I would fight to the last, so that I might be killed where I stood, and not be taken alive and tortured.

I did not go out from home all that day, and, to my surprise, I was not molested by my mistress. At dark she called the convicts, but they did not answer; she came out to look for them, and asked me whether I had seen them.

I told her that I had not seen them for two hours, and I had thought that they were in the house.

“Did you tell them about the Indians?”

“Yes, I did,” I replied, “and stated my opinion that they would attack us this night, and I advised them not to go far from the cabin, or they might be cut off.”

“Then the cowardly sneaks have run off to the woods, and left us to defend ourselves how we can.”

“I shall not defend myself,” replied I. “I shall stay here where I am. I wait for death, and will not avoid it.”