Bacon, having severely chastised the Indians, returned; but only a few of his followers remained. This was in September, 1676. He laid regular siege to Jamestown; but, as his force was so weak, he feared a sortie by overwhelming numbers. To avert this, and gain time to complete his works, he resorted to stratagem. By means of a picked party, sent at night, he captured the wives of the leading inhabitants. These, the next day, he placed on the summit of a small work in sight of the town, and kept them thus exposed until he had completed his lines, when he released them. Berkeley sallied out, and was repulsed. He could not depend on his own men, and that night he retired in his vessels. Bacon entered the town next morning, and after consultation, it was agreed to destroy the place. At seven o’clock in the evening, the torch was applied, and in the morning the tower of the church and a few chimneys were all that were left standing. A number of Berkeley’s men now joined Bacon, who was undisputed master of the colony; but dying shortly after, his party dispersed. Berkeley, reinstated, took signal vengeance and executed about twenty of the most prominent of Bacon’s friends. He was only stopped by the positive orders of the King, by whom he was removed, and Lord Culpepper, almost as great a tyrant, sent in his room. _THE BURNING OF JAMESTOWN._ Mad Berkeley believed, with his gay cavaliers, And the ruffians he brought from the Accomac shore, He could ruffle our spirit by rousing our fears, And lord it again as he lorded before: It was—“Traitors, be dumb!” And—“Surrender, ye scum!” And that Bacon, our leader, was rebel, he swore. A rebel? Not he! He was true to the throne; For the King, at a word, he would lay down his life; But to listen unmoved to the piteous moan When the redskin was plying the hatchet and knife, And shrink from the fray, Was not the man’s way— It was Berkeley, not Bacon, who stirred up the strife. On the outer plantations the savages burst, And scattered around desolation and woe; And Berkeley, possessed by some spirit accurst, Forbade us to deal for our kinsfolk a blow; Though when, weapons in hand, We made our demand, He sullenly suffered our forces to go. Then while we were doing our work for the crown, And risking our lives in the perilous fight, He sent lying messengers out, up and down, To denounce us as outlaws—mere malice and spite; Then from Accomac’s shore Brought a thousand or more, Who swaggered the country around, day and night.