"They shall not find the town when they come," cried Bacon. "D--n my blood! I will burn Jamestown, and not a stone shall be left standing upon another. Burn it, yes burn it, so that three centuries hence naught but its ashes and ruins will mark where it stands to-day!" What Bacon ordered in the heat of passion was indorsed by sober reason, and it was resolved to burn the town. "But your own house, Mr. Drummond, will have to be burned," cried Robert. "I will fire it with my own hand. It will be the first that burns," answered Drummond. Immediately the news spread that the town had been doomed. The troops were assembled in the streets, and the people summoned to vacate their houses. There were wailings and shrieks that night. Robert ran to his home and told his mother, what was to be done. She came weeping into the street and asked: "What will become of us, my son? Whither shall we fly? We are three helpless women without a roof to protect us." "Until this storm hath blown away, let my ship be your home," said a deep, sad voice at her side, and, turning about, she beheld Sir Albert St. Croix, the man who had so strangely impressed her. "Mother, go, take Ester and sister and go aboard the _Despair_," cried Robert. Then, turning to the strange old man, he seized his hand and continued, "Kind sir, you look the soul of honor. Will you care for them until this hour has passed?" Sir Albert's breast heaved a moment like the tumultuous storm; then he answered: "I will, I swear by the God we all worship!" Robert hastily gathered up some personal effects and precious family relics, and carried them aboard the ship with his mother, Ester and Rebecca. On his return, he saw a bright flame dart up from the corner of Drummond's house and heard that gentleman say: "Farewell, dear home! Better perish thus than be a harbor for tyrants." Drummond had fired his own house. Mr. Lawrence did the same. The street was now filled with weeping and shrieking women and children and piles of household goods. A moment later, and Robert saw the burning flames leaping up about the home of his childhood--the house his father had erected. They leaped and crackled angrily and licked the roof with their hot, thirsty tongues, and he turned away his head. An hour later Jamestown was no more. It has never been rebuilt, and only the ruins of the old church mark the spot where once it stood. Bacon and his army retreated up the country. CHAPTER XXII. VENGEANCE WITH A VENGEANCE. The longer life, the more offence; The more offence, the greater pain; The greater pain, the less defence; The less defence, the greater gain: The loss of gain long ill doth try, Wherefore, come death and let me die. --WYAT.