desperate through hunger, that they joined in the raids on the English. One can never be certain which side started hostilities. Probably both were to blame. But Berkeley did not stop to consider that the fault was basically his own. Had he not granted all the best lands in the east to his favorites, poor planters would not have had to encroach on the Indian reservations, in which case the Indians might have remained peaceful, and even fought side by side with the English against the Susquehannocks.

After recalling the expedition under Chicheley, Berkeley remained inactive until, in February, he received word that the Indians had made new raids. Then he summoned the Assembly. Several weeks passed before they convened, since it took time to reach the Burgesses who lived in the distant counties, and for them to travel, perhaps by boat, down the Potomac or the Rappahannock, and up the James to Jamestown. At last, on March 7, the session opened.

Berkeley had determined on a defensive war, and the Assembly obediently carried out his wishes. So they declared war on all Indians who were known to have taken part in the murderous raids, provided for the enlistment of friendly Indians, called out a force of 500 men, prohibited trade in firearms with the savages, and ordered the erection of eight forts on the frontiers.

This policy might have been successful had Berkeley made the forts bases for expeditions against the enemy. The Indians seem to have made their raids in small parties, and with rangers spying upon them, forces could have rushed out from the nearest fort to intercept or pursue them. In fact this seems to have been Berkeley's original plan. The spread of hostilities "puts us on an absolute necessity not only of fortifying our frontiers more strongly, but of keeping several considerable parties of both horse and foot still in motion to confront them wherever they shall attack us," he wrote in a report to the English government late in March.

Berkeley stated that the forts served their purpose well. "In April and May we lost not one man," he stated. But this Bacon and his men denied. Even when a garrison received word that Indians were near, they were not permitted to pursue them until they had notified the governor, who might be fifty or sixty miles away, and received his permission. The forts proved useless, they said, for the Indians sneaked in between them and fell upon the outlying plantations, burning, plundering, and killing. This it was easy to do in a country full of "thick woods, swamps, and other covert." So, as houses went up in flames, as men, women, and children were murdered, as miserable captives were led off to await torture, a cry arose for relief. What is needed, people said, is some considerable force in motion to seek out the enemy and destroy them.

So petition after petition came to Berkeley begging him to send them a leader. We have the arms, they said, all we ask is permission to defend ourselves. But they met with peremptory refusal. As one group stood before him, hat in hand, one of them spoke of themselves as his honor's subjects. "Why you are a set of fools and loggerheads. You are the King's subjects, and so am I," Berkeley blurted out. "A pox take you."

The frontier planters were in despair. Many deserted their homes and fled to the more settled parts of the country. Some declared they would plant no more tobacco, since it would be taken from them to pay for the useless forts. And they were deeply angered when it was reported to them that Berkeley had said that if they had no tobacco, "they had cows and feather beds sufficient to discharge their levies." At last, "the cries of their women and children growing grievous and intolerable to them," and hearing that large bodies of Indians were encamped on the upper James ready to descend on them, the people of Charles City County assembled in arms near Merchants Hope.

They found their leader in Nathaniel Bacon. Bacon, despite his youth, was looked up to as one of the Council, and a member of the English gentry. Not only did he sympathize with the people in their fear and hatred of the Indians, but he had a personal grievance, since they had plundered his outer plantation and killed his overseer. So when several of his neighbors urged him to cross the James to visit the men in arms, he readily consented.

When they saw the slender, black-haired youth, they set up a great cry: "A Bacon! A Bacon! A Bacon!" This was too much for him to resist. It is stated by one of the old chroniclers that he had "a most imperious and dangerous hidden pride of heart." The leadership thus thrust upon him must have pleased him. He was now no longer the erratic youth who had been withdrawn from Cambridge, had caused his father great trouble and anxiety, and had been duped by sharpers. He was the leader of men. But there can be no doubt that he yielded to the pleas of his friends and neighbors in part at least because of his loathing of the Indians and his horror at their cruelty. He yielded also because his spirit revolted at Berkeley's system of government by corruption, because he sympathized with the people in their outcry against the killing burdens placed on them, and because he hoped to redress their grievances. His rough followers listened with approval as he denounced the government as "negligent and wicked, treacherous and incapable, the laws unjust and oppressive," and declared that reform was absolutely necessary. So he listed their names on a huge round-robin, and "enjoined them by an oath to stick fast together and to him." As word spread throughout the colony that at last the people had a champion, almost overnight he became the popular hero, and "the only patron of the country and the preserver of their lives and fortunes."

He first wrote Berkeley asking for a commission to go out to attack the Indians, and then, without waiting for a reply, crossed the Chickahominy into New Kent to overawe or perhaps attack the Pamunkeys. He found the people of this county "ripe for rebellion" and eager to wipe out their treacherous neighbors. But when he heard that the Pamunkeys had fled from their villages to the inaccessible Dragon's Swamp, he turned back to pursue a body of Susquehannocks who had moved south to the Roanoke river.

When the news reached Berkeley that the frontier planters had assembled in arms, chosen Bacon their leader, denounced his administration, and driven the Pamunkeys into hiding, he was furious. But as he had broken up previous mutinies by proclamations, he tried the same expedient now. He declared the action of Bacon and his men illegal and rebellious. But pardon would be granted provided they disperse at once and return to their duty and allegiance.

Bacon had already written the governor to assure him that in taking up arms he was acting only in self-defense and for the country's safety. But now he sent another letter reiterating that he had no evil intentions to him or the government. "I am now going out to seek a more agreeable destiny than you are pleased to design me," he added. As to the money he owed him he enclosed an order for its payment.

He then turned his back on the settlements and plunged into the forests. Although he said he distrusted all Indians, he went out of his way to enlist a few warriors from the allied Nottoways and Meherrins. He then followed a trail used by fur traders and headed for an island in the Roanoke river. Here a friendly tribe, the Occaneechees, had established two forts and a village. They welcomed Bacon, ferried his men over to the island, and went themselves to attack a band of Susquehannocks in a nearby fort. With the aid of some Mannikins, whom the Susquehannocks had forced to accompany them, they took the fort and came back leading a number of captives.

Having accomplished what he had set out to do