The Land of Bondage: A RomanceBloundelle-Burton, John
History
The Land of Bondage: A Romance
Bloundelle-Burton, John
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
Therefore it was not to be! They refused to come with us, and set the
love for their savage mates against all entreaties on our part. Nor
could we find it in our hearts to blame them. We remembered other
marriages that had taken place in earlier days between red and white;
we recalled the union of John Rolfe with the Princess Pocahontas, as
well as many more, and we knew that most of them had been happy. What
could we do but cease to plead and go in peace?
Thus we set out again on our road to Pomfret, and, although some of
the party were going back to ruined homes, I think that even so they
were content. For, in so rich and wooded a land as this fertile
Virginia, houses might soon be repaired and made whole again, crops
easily brought to bear once more, and cattle replaced. And, against
any loss that had been incurred, there was always the great set-off of
peace with the Indians and security. All knew in that band--for well
were they acquainted with their foes of old--that, during at least the
present generation, the tribes would keep their word; if they made war
again it would not be during our time. The Indian had not yet learned
the art of lying--he was still uncivilised!
These did endeavour to offer some reparation for the wrong they had
done the colony; they brought forth skins and furs, ornaments such as
they deemed might prove acceptable, weapons, and, in some few
instances, trinkets, gold, and precious stones--got we knew not
whence--which they piled on the ground and bade us take, saying they
had no more. But no man took aught from them, and so, after Kinchella
had offered up a prayer of thanksgiving for our release and another
that, if not now, at least at some future date, these poor heathens
might be gathered into the true fold, we set forth. And never more did
one of our party lay eyes upon any of those tribes again. As they had
vowed, so the vow was kept.
As we rode on we could not but wonder what would be the fate of my
wretched cousin, the author of all the woe that had recently befallen
the, until now, happy little settlement.
"That they will find him and slay him," said Gregory, who knew much of
their ways, "is certain. It is impossible he should escape or they
forgive. Well, vile as he is, God help him!"
"Amen," said Joice, as she rode by my side. "Amen."
"Perhaps," said the old hunter, who had recognised Anuza's squaw, "he
may strike the southern trail and make for the Seminoles; they hate
all the Alleghany tribes like poison. If he could get them to listen
to him, and promised to lead them up to their encampment, he might yet
join on to them."
"Never," said Mr. Byrd. "He would have to join in the fight not shirk
from it in the garb of a medicine chief. Amongst the Red Sticks[6]
every man fights, and fighting is not his cue."
"What I can't fathom," remarked another, "is how the white girls never
found him out. They should have known their own kind."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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