I have seen the same effect when a stone was thrown into a boil of
river-rapids; an enhancement and marvellous entanglement of
swiftness and fury, and spread of broken circles, which confused the
sight at the time and the memory afterwards.
It was but a small body of horse and foot, which charged us whilst
we were cutting the tobacco on the plantation of Laurel Creek, but
it needed not a large one to put to rout a company so overbalanced
by enthusiasm, and cider, and that marvellous greed of destruction.
No more than seven gentlemen of us there were to make a stand, and
not more than some twenty-five of the rabble to be depended upon.
As for me, the principal thought in my mind when the militia burst
upon us, was the safety of Mary Cavendish. Straight to the door of
the great house I rushed, and Sir Humphrey Hyde was with me. As for
the other gentlemen, they were fighting here and there as they
could, Captain Jaynes making efforts to keep the main body of the
defenders at his back, but with little avail. I stood against the
door of the house, resolved upon but one course--that my dead
body should be the threshold over which they crossed to Mary
Cavendish. It was but a pitiful resolve, for what could I do
single-handed, except for the boy Humphrey Hyde, against so many.
But it was all, and a man can but give his all. I knew if the
militia were to find Mary and Catherine Cavendish in that house,
grave harm might come to them, if indeed it came not already without
that. So I stood back against the door which I had previously tried,
and found fast, and Sir Humphrey was with me. Then came a hush for a
moment whilst the magistrate with Captain Waller, and others sitting
on their horses around him, read the Riot Act, and bade us all
disperse and repair to our homes, and verily I wonder, if ever there
hath been in all the history of England such a farce and mummery as
that same Riot Act, and if ever it were read with much effect when a
riot were well under way.
Scarcely time they gave the worthy man to finish, and indeed his
voice trembled as if he had the ague, and he seemed shrinking for
shelter under his big wig, but they drowned out his last words with
hisses, then there was a wild rush of the rabble and a cry of "Down
with the tobacco!" and "A Bacon, A Bacon!" Then the militia charged,
and there were the flashes of swords and partisans and the thunder
of firearms.