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In 1715 the Yemasses began a massacre on the Carolina borders; they were driven off by Charles Craven, after the colonists had lost four hundred men. The proprietors had given no help in the war, and after it was over, the colony renounced allegiance to them, and the English government supported their revolt, regarding it in the light of an act of loyalty to George.
Wharton, whose tendency in matters of business was always to go rather further than he had meant to go, for the sake generally of making an impression on the man with whom he was dealing, had spoken of a two years' engagement, and had offered two hundred a year. So far as that went, Craven was abundantly satisfied.
A commission was sent our to Charles Craven, a man of great knowledge, courage and integrity, by his brother, investing him with the government of the colony. His council was composed of Thomas Broughton, Ralph Izard, Charles Hart, Samuel Eveleigh, and Arthur Middleton, &c.; all men of considerable property, and experience in provincial affairs.
The thick dark hair, the golden brown moustache, the deep grey eyes all were the same. Only the chin in the picture was different for it was hidden by a short pointed beard; so was it in the miniature that was buried with his mother, so was it in the big portrait that hung in the dining-room at Craven Towers.
The squire had been discussing the Clough tragedy with great warmth; for Lord Eltham had not unnaturally judged Ben Craven upon the apparent evidence, and was inclined to think his position, whether he was innocent or guilty, one of great danger. Hallam would not see things in any such light.
Of course Dr. Craven had been sent for the morning after Colin had had his tantrum. He was always sent for at once when such a thing occurred and he always found, when he arrived, a white shaken boy lying on his bed, sulky and still so hysterical that he was ready to break into fresh sobbing at the least word. In fact, Dr. Craven dreaded and detested the difficulties of these visits.
Mistress Mary felt quite contrary. She pinched her lips together. "If they wished I would," she said, "I wouldn't. Who wishes you would?" "The servants and of course Dr. Craven because he would get Misselthwaite and be rich instead of poor. He daren't say so, but he always looks cheerful when I am worse. When I had typhoid fever his face got quite fat. I think my father wishes it, too."
"Tha' mustn't go walkin' about in corridors an' listenin'. Mr. Craven would be that there angry there's no knowin' what he'd do." "I wasn't listening," said Mary. "I was just waiting for you and I heard it. That's three times." "My word! There's Mrs. Medlock's bell," said Martha, and she almost ran out of the room.
It was a proud moment in my existence when Wright, captain of our football club, came up to me in school one Friday and said, "Adams, your name is down to play in the match against Craven to-morrow." I could have knighted him on the spot.
"I speak it not," interrupted Warwick; "nor shalt thou continue, brave Raoul de Fulke. What! who of us would not rather descend from the chiefs of Runnymede than from the royal craven whom they controlled and chid? By Heaven, my lords, Richard Nevile has too proud a soul to be a king!
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