“There are priests on board!” he managed to say as I set him down. “This time to-morrrow we’ll all be on the rack! And next week the galleys will have us!”

“It’s the Spaniard at last,” I said. “Come on!”

When we reached the river bank before the fort, it was to find confusion worse confounded. The gates of the palisade were open, and through them streamed Councilors, Burgesses, and officers, while the bank itself was thronged with the generality. Ancient planters, Smith’s men, Dale’s men, tenants and servants, women and children, including the little eyases we imported the year before, negroes, Paspaheghs, French vignerons, Dutch sawmill men, Italian glassworkers, — all seethed to and fro, all talked at once,