[A letter from Dr. John Trefusis to Dr. Matthias Fruhling of Philadelphia]

The Marvel Frigate
November 18^th, 1775

SIR —

“‘Nunc, o lecta manus, validis incumbite remis; tollite, ferte rates, inimicam findite rostris hanc terram, sulcumque sibi premat ipsa carina. Frangere nec tali puppim statione recuso arrepta tellure semel!’”¹

¹ “Now, my chosen men, draw hard upon your oars; lift the prow, drive our ship ashore on the beaches of the enemy, cleave a furrow in the foe’s land. So long as we find a safe foothold there, who cares if our ship founders on the shore?”— Virgil, Æneid, Book X [Editor’s note]

“Friskish dotard,” thou criest —“why dost plunge into thy letter so?” Indeed, sir, say I, for I am awash on the seas of chance and giddy with their heaving — and thus I spew. A packet on its route north passes this skirling barque, and I shall hand this billet off to one I pray shall deliver it unto thee, most generous friend, so thou mightst convey to thy brethren at the American Philosophical Society the startling word of what new experiments here transpire.

I head now for the Virginia Colony in the company of my quondam charge, the Negro boy Octavian — in which country, he avoweth, he shall rise in arms against the vile practice of slavery. “Sir —,” thou protesteth, “seaborne? How now?” To which my answer is, Oh pish, sir, ’tis a tale of poison, escape, and desperate flight; surely of no interest to thee.

There is aboard this ship a spirit of expectation which delights the heart as it vivifies the senses. My boy Octavian, having spent some days abed, never having traveled upon the water before, so that his vitals were involved in uproar, now prowls about the decks impatient of our destination. Ah, ye gods! It makes me long for youth and fire. I come to the end of things, dear friend, and he waxes mickle; my tides have gone slack and flaccid, while his swell newly to proxigean spring and rush through the gut.

He doth not yet know that he must someday die; which oft is the key to immortality.

By such potent ignorance, all may be changed.

Thou mayst report to the Philosophical Society that the child’s education continues, though he is delivered out of the shackles of Gitney and Sharpe. The experiment now rests in Octavian’s hands. I instruct him in epistemics, and he learns his own lessons in government. He has a little book, in which he intends to keep a maritime diary, which I trust shall be a record of great moment, when viewed with the hindsight of years. He that would triumph over the petty trickery of fate must indite history at its source.

In one respect, I regret, his education has ceased: Thou mayst recall he was a prodigious fiddler; and of late, circumstance hath allowed him to borrow a violin of a gentleman of Boston, and fate bade him play it. But with our departure for the south, which I have arranged comformably with the boy’s ardent wishes, that instrument was left with its owner; and I can observe the boy’s yearning for the bow and catgut, those his solace and his song, his very boon companions.

Our voyage south, though fraught with fear of foul weather and pert rebel brigandage, hath passed without incident; the shore for the last several days being but a collection of miserable hovels, forests hacked to their roots, a smoldering field in New Jersey, and meager cattle. We are anchored tonight off the coast of Delaware, where there stands, on the bank, a great ironworks — a bloomery and slitting mill — all cold and neglected. This evening, we meeting with the packet bound for New-York from Virginia, we halted for exchange — and have received most startling intelligence — which I hasten to scrawl to you, though I keenly want Mercury’s marvelous avian sandals to deliver it with greater expedition than lazy water.

We have for some time heard tales of Lord Dunmore; that he hath fled his palace; that he sitteth enthroned upon a ship-of-war, the ground itself having grown too hot for him to walk upon. We have heard that he threatened a general manumission of the slaves and to burn Williamsburg in one great conflagration; and that many Negroes were fled to him, and that he sent out raids through all the rivers and their convolutions to seize upon chicken, duck, and beef for his Marines, and to punish those would not swear loyalty to the King.

But now such things are heard — of which thou shalt, i’faith, get fuller news on this same packet: Dunmore hath fought his first great battle at a place near Norfolk. The rebel militia, hearing that Dunmore approached with a force, set an ambush to trap him; but seeing our grenadiers of the 14^th marching relentlessly upon them, the cowards could not withstand the loft of bearskin and the rattle of shot — and either ran, or were taken. And this is the delight: Both the rebels’ commanding colonels were put in irons; and one — I recall not his name — was captured by two of his own former slaves, who found him hid cowering in a swamp. Dies mirabilis!²

2 “Miraculous day!” [Editor’s note]

This victory hath heartened those upon this frigate greatly. Dunmore’s situation, though uncomfortable, may prove now to yield to scenes of more perfect success; for though his colony is in disorganization and the rebellion there flagrant, still, his force hath shown itself formidable and only gains in adherents — for indeed, indeed, Dunmore hath carried out his rumored design, and offered freedom to all Negroes such as will desert their rebel masters and list in his cause. He hath formed a Regiment. Already, there are hundreds have flocked to his standard — and have taken up arms — and are gratified with the name of Lord Dunmore’s Royal Ethiopians. The rebels may gnash their teeth as they will.

Would that thou wert a gambling man so we might take sides; for I know thou cleav’st to rebellion, and I cleave to entertainment; and my feet almost fall to dancing when I think of long odds and a woodland alive with black escapees. Detonations, sir, shall follow.

An ensign of the 14^th came on board our frigate to deliver the particulars, of which we had formerly heard but rumor; and when he had done so, the spirits of all were in great ferment. Octavian could scarce remain within the compass of the gunwales. Others wished to push on to Norfolk, invigorated by the word of success. All talked of the rebel colonel trussed and bagged by his own two slaves, that had been whipped by him previous — and there was an elation in this tale of justice reflected in all eyes.

Amongst the glad faces and the looks of triumph, one aging Negro in the crew could be perceived crying; and, wondering at his tears, I inquired of him why he wept.

He raised his arms in a gesture of enthusiasm; and in a voice thick with his weeping, recited the Psalm:

“When the LORD turned again the captivity of Zion,
we were like them that dream.
Then was our mouth filled with laughter,
and our tongue with singing:
then said they among the heathen,
The LORD hath done great things for them.
For indeed hath HE done great things for us;
    whereof we are glad.
Turn again our captivity, O LORD,
    as the streams in the south!
They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.”

It was most affecting.

Though my bones are eld and weary and my skin is rough as is the houndfish’s hide, still doth my whole spirits tremble in agitated liquidity to see the issue of this coming campaign — in which so much shall be done to ensure, thou, my dear friend, dear because compassionate, that thy rebellion shall truly give birth to liberty.

Gamble how thou wishest, sir —

“Hos successus alit: possunt, quia posse videntur.”³

3 “They are strengthened by success; they can triumph because they think they can triumph.”— Virgil, Æneid, Book V [Editor’s note]

So says

thy humble & affectionate,

Dr. John Trefusis