The Life of General Francis Marion Part 8

Here Laurens, smiling at the officer's mistake, replied, "not 'green owl', sir, but 'grenouille', grenouille, sir, is the French for frog."

"Aye, sure enough, sure enough, frog," continued the count, "frog; grenouille is frog. By gar, Monsieur le colonel, you be vun dam good interpret, I set dat well enough. Well den, now, Monsieur le colonel, you hear-a me speak -- my French-a-mans eat dem Jack Engleesh all same like vun leetle frog."

"Oh to be sure! -- no doubt of all that, Monsieur le count -- but before we eat them up, they may kill a great many of our soldiers."

"Dey kill-a de soldier!" replied the pa.s.sionate count -- "well what den if dey do kill-a de soldier! Jaun foutre de soldier! what dey good for but for be kill? dat deir trade. You give-a vun poor dog soldier, two, three, four penny a day, he go fight -- he get kill. Well den, what dat?

By gar he only get what he HIRE for."

"But pardon me, Monsieur le count, we can't spare them."

"Vat! no spare de soldier! de GRAND MONARQUE no spare de soldier?

O mon Dieu! Vy, Monsieur le colonel -- for why you talk-a so? Well den, hear-a me speak now, Monsieur le colonel -- you see de star in de sky; de leaf on de tree; de sand on de sh.o.r.e -- you no see all dat, heh?

Well den, by gar, Monsieur le colonel, de GRAND MONARQUE got soldier more an-a all dat -- ess, sacra Dieu! more an-a all dat, by gar."

"Well but, Monsieur le count, is it not CRUEL to kill the poor fellows notwithstanding?"

"Pooh!" replied the count, throwing back his head, and puffing out his cheeks as when a cigar sucker explodes a cataract of smoke from the crater of his throat; "cruel! vat cruel for kill-a de soldier!

by gar, Monsieur le colonel, you make-a de king of France laugh he hear-a you talk after dat fashong. Let-a me tell you, Monsieur le colonel, de king of France no like general Washington -- by gar, general Washington talk wi' de soldier -- he shake hand wi' de soldier -- he give de soldier dram -- By gar, de GRAND MONARQUE no do so -- no, sacra Dieu! he no LOOK AT de soldier. When de king of France ride out in de coach royale wid de supeerb horses, and harness shining so bright all vun like gold, if he run over one soldier, you tink he going stop for dat? No, sacra foutre! he ride on so, all one like if nothing at all been happen. Jaun foutre de soldier!

let him prenez garde for himself; by gar the grand Monarque no mind dat.

De grand Monarque only tink of de soldier 'commes des chiens', like de poor dam dog for fight for him."

Thus ended the dialogue between colonel Laurens and the count D'Estang.

The next day, the memorable twenty-four hours being expired, a flag was sent into town to know the determination of the British officer, who very politely replied, that having consulted his pillow, he had made up his mind to defend the place. A regular siege was then commenced, and continued for three weeks: at the end of which an attack was made, and with the success which Marion had all along predicted. After a full hour's exposure to the destructive rage of grape shot and musketry, we were obliged to make a precipitate retreat; leaving the ground covered with the mingled carca.s.ses of 400 Americans and 800 Frenchmen.

Marion's corps fighting with their usual confidence, suffered great loss; himself did not receive a scratch. Colonel Laurens raged like a wounded lion.

Soon as the retreat was ordered he paused, and looking round on his fallen men, cried out, "Poor fellows, I envy you!"

then hurling his sword in wrath against the ground, he retired.

Presently, after we had reached our encampment, he came to my marquee, and like one greatly disordered, said, "Horry, my life is a burden to me; I would to G.o.d I was lying on yonder field at rest with my poor men!"

"No! no! none of that, colonel," said I, "none of that; I trust we shall live to pay them yet for all this."

And so it turned out. And though for humanity's sake, I ought not to BOAST of it, yet we did live to pay them for it, and often too: and in the same b.l.o.o.d.y coin which they gave us that day. And although in that fiery season of my days, and when my dear country was in danger, it was but natural for me to rejoice in the downfall of my enemies, yet I was often witness to scenes, which to this day I can never think of but with sorrow -- as when, for example, after dashing upon an enemy by surprise, and cutting one half of them to pieces and chasing the rest, we returned to collect the horses and arms of the slain. Who, I say, without grief could behold those sad sights which then offered themselves, of human beings lying mangled over the crimson ground -- some stone dead, some still alive and struggling, with brains oozing from their cloven skulls -- and others sitting up, or leaning on their elbows, but pale with loss of blood, running in streams from their mortal wounds, and they themselves looking down, the while, sadly thinking of home and of distant wives and children, whom they shall never see again.

Such thoughts, if often cherished, would much abate the rancor of malice in the hearts of those whose sad destiny it is to kill one another; especially if it were known how short sometimes are the triumphs of the victor. It was remarkably so in the present case: for colonel Maitland, of the Highlanders, who had contributed a large part to this very unexpected victory, was so elated by it, that he took to hard drinking, and killed himself in a single week, and the sickly season coming on, the greater part of the garrison perished of the yellow or bilious fever!!

Thus friends and foes the same sad fortune shar'd, And sickness swallowed whom the sword had spar'd.

Many gallant men were the victims of count D'Estang's folly in this affair; among the number was that impetuous Polander, the count Polaski.

But none fell more universally lamented than the heroic Jasper.

Every reader must wish to hear the last of this brave and generous soldier.

And they shall have it faithfully, for I happened to be close by him when he received his death's wound; and I was with him when he breathed his last.

Early in the action, the elegant colors presented by Mrs. Elliot, had been planted on the enemy's works; and the fury of the battle raged near the spot where they waved. During the whole of the b.l.o.o.d.y fray, Jasper had remained unhurt. But on hearing the retreat sounded, he rushed up to bear off his colors, and in that desperate act, was mortally wounded. As he pa.s.sed by me, with the colors in his hands, I observed he had a bad limp in his walk.

"You are not much hurt, I hope, Jasper," said I.

"Yes, major," he replied, "I believe I have got my furlough."

"Pshaw," quoth I, "furlough indeed, for what?"

"Why to go home," he answered, "to go to Heaven, I hope."

"Pooh!" said I, and having, as the reader must suppose, a good deal to attend to, I turned off and left him. However, his words made such an impression on me, that soon as duty permitted, I went to see him, and found too true what he had predicted; the ball had opened a blood vessel in the lungs which no art could stop, and he was bleeding to slow but certain death.

As I entered the tent, he lifted his eyes to me, but their fire was almost quenched; and stretching his feeble hand, he said, with perfect tranquillity, "Well, major, I told you I had got my furlough."

"I hope not," I replied.

"O yes!" said he, "I am going -- and very fast too; but, thank G.o.d, I am not afraid to go."

I told him I knew he was too brave to fear death, and too honest to be alarmed about its consequences.

"Why, as to that matter, sir," said he, "I won't brag: but I have my hopes, notwithstanding I may be wrong, for I know I am but a poor ignorant body, but somehow or other, I have always built my hopes of what G.o.d may do for me hereafter, on what he has done for me here!"

I told him I thought he was very correct in that.

"Do you, indeed?" said he. "Well, I am mighty glad of that -- and now major, here's the way I always comfort myself: Fifty years ago, (I say to myself,) I was nothing, and had no thought that there was any such grand and beautiful world as this.

But still there was such a world notwithstanding; and here G.o.d has brought me into it. Now, can't he, in fifty years more, or indeed in fifty minutes more, bring me into another world, as much above this as this is above that state of nothing, wherein I was fifty years ago?"

I told him that this was, to my mind, a very happy way of reasoning; and such, no doubt, as suited the greatness and goodness of G.o.d.

"I think so, major," said he, "and I trust I shall find it so; for though I've been a man of blood, yet, thank G.o.d, I've always lived with an eye to that great hope. My mother, major, was a good woman; when I was but a child, and sat on her lap, she used to talk to me of G.o.d, and tell how it was he who built this great world, with all its riches and good things: and not for himself, but for ME! and also, that if I would but do his will in that only acceptable way, a good life, he would do still greater and better things for me hereafter.

"Well, major, from the mouth of a dear mother, like her, these things went so deep into my heart, that they could never be taken away from me. I have hardly ever gone to bed, or got up again, without saying my prayers. I have honored my father and mother; and, thank G.o.d, been strictly HONEST. And since you have known me, major, I believe you can bear witness, that though a strong man, I never was quarrelsome."

I told him, nothing afforded me more satisfaction, than to remember that, since he was now going to die, he had always led so good a life.

He answered, with tears in his eyes, that he had a good hope he was going where he should not do what he had been obliged to do in this world.

"I've killed men in my time, major, but not in malice, but in what I thought a just war in defence of my country. And as I bore no malice against those I killed, neither do I bear any against those who have killed me.

And I heartily trust in G.o.d for Christ's sake, that we shall yet, one day, meet together, where we shall forgive and love one another like brothers.

I own, indeed, major, that had it so pleased G.o.d, I should have been glad to stay a little longer with you to fight for my country. But however, I humbly hope that my death is of G.o.d; which makes it welcome to me, and so I bow me to his blessed will. And now, my good friend, as I feel I have but a little time to live, I beg you will do a few things for me when I am dead and gone."

I could not speak; but gathering my answer from my tears, and the close press I gave his hand, he thus went on, but it was in a low voice and laborious.

"You see that sword? -- It is the one which governor Rutledge presented to me for my services at Fort Moultrie -- give that sword to my father, and tell him I never dishonored it. If he should weep for me, tell him his son died in hope of a better life. If you should see that great gentlewoman, Mrs. Elliot, tell her I lost my life in saving the colors she gave to our regiment. And if ever you should come across poor Jones and his wife, and little boy, tell them Jasper is gone; but that the remembrance of the hard battle which he once fought for their sakes brought a secret joy to his heart just as it was about to stop its motion for ever."

He spoke these last words in a livelier tone than usual, but it was like the last kindling of the taper in its oil-less socket -- for instantly the paleness of death overspread his face, and after a feeble effort to vomit, with convulsions, the natural effect of great loss of blood, he sunk back and expired.

From this victim of D'Estang's madness, I went with a heavy heart on parade, to take a review of the sad remains of the battle. The call of the roll completed the depression of my spirits. To every fourth or fifth name there was no answer -- the gloomy silence which ensued, told us where they were. About twelve o'clock we sent in a flag to the garrison for permission to bury our dead. Curiosity led me to accompany the party destined to this mournful duty. I had prepared myself for a sorrowful sight; but ah! what words can express what I then saw and suffered!

A scattered few lay here and there on the utmost verge of the field, killed by cannon shot, and so mangled, that in some instances, it was hard to tell who they were. As we advanced, they lay thicker and thicker.

Some, not quite dead, were constantly crying, "Water! water! -- Oh! for G.o.d's sake, a little water!" -- Others lay quite dead, but still their lifeless visages retained the dark frowns of war.

There, on the side of the enemy's breast-work, lay the brave ensign Boushe, covering with his dead body, the very spot where he had fixed the American standard. His face was pale and cold as the earth he pressed, but still it spoke the fierce determined air of one whose last sentiment towards those degenerate Britons was, "There d--n you!

look at the stripes of liberty."

Close by ensign Boushe, lay that elegant young man, Alexander Hume, Esq.

with his sword still grasped in his stiffened fingers.