The Life of General Francis Marion Part 9

My heart bled within me, when I looked on young Hume, where he lay in all the pale beauties of death. He was to have been married the week following, to a charming woman; but such was his zeal to serve his country, that he came a volunteer to our camp, and met his death the next morning after he joined us.

Gifted with a pretty taste for painting, he had tried his skill, and very successfully too, in sketching the likeness of his lovely mistress.

For on opening his bosom, was found, suspended by a blue ribband, (the happy lover's color) a fine likeness of the beautiful Miss ----: the back of the portrait was stained with his blood; but unconscious of her lover's fate, she still wore the enchanting smile with which yielding beauty views the youth she loves.

We then proceeded to bury our dead; which was done by digging large pits, sufficient to contain about a hundred corpses. Then taking off their clothes, with heavy hearts, we threw them into the pits, with very little regard to order, and covered them over with earth.

"Poor brothers, farewell! the storm of your last battle has long ago ceased on the field, and no trace now remains on earth that you ever lived.

The worms have devoured your flesh; and the mounds raised over your dust, are sunk back to the common level with the plain. But ah!

could your mournful story be read, the youth of America would listen to the last words of Washington, and 'study the art of war,'

that their countrymen might no more be murdered by military quacks.

As a hint to American officers, I think it my duty to state the following fact: -- Our fatal attack on Savannah was made very early in the morning. A few hours previous thereto, a council of war was held; and while it was deliberating, a deserter and spy had the address to bear a musket, as sentinel at the door of the marquee!!

On hearing where the attack was to be made, he ran off in the dark, and gave such intelligence to the enemy, as enabled them very completely to defeat us. The fellow was afterwards taken at the battle of Hobkirk Hill, near Camden, and hung.

Scarcely had we finished burying the dead, before the count D'Estang hurried on board his ships with his troops and artillery, while we, pa.s.sing on in silence by the way of Zubley's ferry, returned to Carolina, and pitched our tents at Sheldon, the country seat of general Bull.

The theatre of war being, from this period, and for some time at least, removed to the northern states, the governor and council were pleased to reduce the regiments, and dismiss the supernumerary officers.

To some of my brethren in arms, this was matter of serious alarm.

But for myself, possessing, thank G.o.d, a liberal fortune in the country, and feeling no ATTRACTION to the camp, except when drawn thither by public danger, I was quite happy to hear of this new arrangement, and waited on his excellency to return my commission.

Perhaps some may say it was pride in me, and that I did not like the idea of being 'unfrocked'. Why, as to that matter, it is not for me to boast of my standing among my superiors in those days.

But this I must needs say, that it is joy enough, and glory enough too, for me to know, that I was always the favorite of the great Marion; and that he seldom ever asked the lightning of any other sword than mine, to lead his squadron to the charge. However, the moment I heard, as above, that it was in agitation to reduce the regiments, I waited on the governor, and begged that, as there was nothing doing, he would allow me to return to my plantation. To my plantation I DID return, and there continued till spring, 1780, when Charleston was taken by the British; at which time, and for some weeks before, I was grievously afflicted with the rheumatism. Thus by a providence, which, I confess, I did not at that time altogether like, I was kindly saved from being kidnapped by the enemy, and also introduced into a field of some little service, I hope, to my country, and of no great dishonor to myself. However, be this as it may, the reader shall soon see, and then let him judge for himself.

Chapter 9.

Providential escape of Marion out of Charleston -- the British fleet and army invest and take that place -- Tarleton and the British officers begin to let out -- young Scotch Macdonald comes upon the turf -- extraordinary anecdote of him -- plays a very curious trick on a rich old tory.

How happy it is for man, that the author of his being loves him so much better than he loves himself; and has established so close a connexion between his duty and his advantage. This delightful truth was remarkably exemplified in an event that befell Marion about this time, March, 1780. Dining with a squad of choice whigs, in Charleston, in the house of Mr. Alexander M'Queen, Tradd street, he was so frequently pressed to b.u.mpers of old wine, that he found himself in a fair way to get drunk. 'Twas in vain he attempted to beat a retreat.

The company swore, that that would never do for general Marion.

Finding, at last, that there was no other way of escaping a debauch, but by leaping out of one of the windows of the dining-room, which was on the second story, he bravely undertook it. It cost him, however, a broken ankle. When the story got about in Charleston, most people said he was a great fool for his pains; but the event soon proved that Marion was in the right, and that there is no policy like sticking to a man's duty. For, behold! presently Charleston was invested by a large British army, and the American general (Lincoln) finding Marion was utterly unfit for duty, advised him to push off in a litter to his seat in St. John's parish.

Thus providentially was Marion preserved to his country when Charleston fell, as it soon did, with all our troops.

The spirits of the British were so raised by the capture of our metropolis with all the southern army, that they presently began to scour the neighboring country. And never victors, perhaps, had a country more completely in their power. Their troops were of the choicest kind; excellently equipped, and commanded by active, ambitious young fellows, who looked on themselves as on the high road to fortune among the conquered rebels. They all carried with them pocket maps of South Carolina, on which they were constantly poring like young spendthrifts on their fathers' last testaments. They would also ask a world of questions, such as, "where lay the richest lands? -- and the finest situations? -- and who were the warmest old fellows, and had the finest girls?" and when answered to their humor, they would break out into hearty laughs; and flourish their swords, and 'whoop' and 'hoic' it away like young fox hunters, just striking on a fresh trail.

Some of them had Dr. Madan's famous book called "Thylipthora, or a Defence of Polygamy", with which they were prodigiously taken, and talked very freely of reducing the system to practice. Cornwallis, it seems, was to be a bashaw of three tails -- Rawdon and Tarleton, of two each -- and as a natural appendage of such high rank, they were to have their seraglios and harems filled with the greatest beauties of the country.

"Huzza, my brave fellows!" -- they would say to each other; "one more campaign and the 'hash' will be settled with the d----d rebels, and then stand by the girls! -- stand by the Miss Pinckneys! and Elliots!

and Rutledges! and all your bright-eyed, soft bosomed, lovely dames, look sharp! Egad! your charms shall reward our valor! like the grand Turk, we'll have regiments of our own raising! Charleston shall be our Constantinople! and our Circa.s.sia, this sweet Carolina famed for beauties!

Prepare the baths, the perfumes, and spices! bring forth the violins and the rose buds! and tap the old Madeira, that our souls may all be joy!"

'Twas in this way they would rant; and then, brightened up to the pitch, they would look and grin on each other as sweetly as young foxes, who, prowling round a farm yard, had suddenly heard the cackling of the rooster pullets. The reader shall presently see the violent and b.l.o.o.d.y course of these ruffians, who did such dishonor to the glorious island they came from. But before I begin my tragedy, I beg leave, by way of prologue, to entertain him a moment with a very curious farce that was acted on a wealthy old tory, near Monk's Corner, while colonel Tarleton with the British advance, lay there.

The hero of the play was a remarkably stout, red-haired young Scotsman, named Macdonald, son of the Macdonald of famous defeat at Morris Creek Bridge, North Carolina. Soon after the defeat of his father he came and joined our troops. Led by curiosity, I could not help, one day, asking him the reason: to which he made, in substance, the following reply.

"Immediately on the misfortune of my father and his friends at the Great Bridge, I fell to thinking what could be the cause; and then it struck me that it must have been owing to their own monstrous ingrat.i.tude. "Here now," said I to myself, "is a parcel of people, meaning my poor father and his friends, who fled from the murderous swords of the English after the ma.s.sacre at Culloden.

Well, they came to America, with hardly any thing but their poverty and mournful looks. But among this friendly people that was enough. -- Every eye that saw us, had pity; and every hand was reached out to a.s.sist.

They received us in their houses as though we had been their own unfortunate brothers. They kindled high their hospitable fires for us, and spread their feasts, and bid us eat and drink and banish our sorrows, for that we were in a land of friends. And so indeed we found it; for, whenever we told of the woeful battle of Culloden, and how the English gave no quarter to our unfortunate countrymen, but butchered all they could overtake, these generous people often gave us their tears, and said, "O! that we had been there to aid with our rifles, then should many of these monsters have bit the ground."

They received us into the bosoms of their peaceful forests, and gave us their lands and their beauteous daughters in marriage, and we became rich. And yet, after all, soon as the English came to America, to murder this innocent people, merely for refusing to be their slaves, then my father and friends, forgetting all that the Americans had done for them, went and joined the British, to a.s.sist them to cut the throats of their 'best friends'!

"Now," said I to myself, "if ever there was a time for G.o.d to stand up to punish ingrat.i.tude, this was the time." And G.o.d did stand up: for he enabled the Americans to defeat my father and his friends most completely. But, instead of murdering the prisoners, as the English had done at Culloden, they treated us with their usual generosity.

And now these are, "the people I love and will fight for as long as I live."

And so he did fight for us, and as undauntedly too as George Washington ever did.

This was young Scotch Macdonald. Now the curious trick which he played, is as follows.

Soon as he heard that colonel Tarleton was encamped at Monk's Corner, he went the next morning to a wealthy old tory of that neighborhood, and pa.s.sing himself for a sergeant of Colonel Tarleton's corps, presented that officer's compliments, adding that colonel Tarleton was just come to drive the rebels out of the country, and knowing him to be a good friend of the king, begged he would send him one of his best horses for a charger, and that he should be no loser by it.

"Send him one of my finest horses!" cried the old traitor, with eyes sparkling with joy; "Yes, Mr. Sergeant, that I will, by gad!

and would send him one of my finest daughters too, had he but said the word.

A good friend of the king, did he call me, Mr. Sergeant?

yes, G.o.d save his sacred majesty, a good friend I am indeed, and a true.

And, faith! I am glad too, Mr. Sergeant, that colonel knows it.

Send him a charger to drive the rebels, heh? Yes, egad will I send him one, and as proper a one too, as ever a soldier straddled. d.i.c.k! d.i.c.k!

I say you d.i.c.k!"

"Here, ma.s.sa, here! here d.i.c.k!"

"Oh, you plaguy dog! so I must always split my throat with bawling, before I can get you to answer heh?"

"High, ma.s.sa! sure d.i.c.k always answer when he hear ma.s.sa hallo!"

"You do, you villain, do you? -- Well then, run! jump! fly, you rascal, fly to the stable, and bring me out Selim, my young Selim! do you hear?

you villain, do you hear?"

"Yes, ma.s.sa, be sure!"

Then turning to Macdonald, he went on: "Well, Mr. Sergeant, you have made me confounded glad this morning, you may depend.

And now suppose you take a gla.s.s of peach; of good old peach, Mr. Sergeant?

do you think it would do you any harm?"

"Why, they say it is good of a rainy morning, sir," replied Macdonald.

"O yes, famous of a rainy morning, Mr. Sergeant! a mighty antifogmatic.

It prevents you the ague, Mr. Sergeant; and clears a man's throat of the cobwebs, sir."

"G.o.d bless your honor!" said Macdonald, as he turned off a b.u.mper of the high-beaded cordial.

But scarcely had he smacked his lips, before d.i.c.k paraded Selim; a proud, full-blooded, stately steed, that stepped as though he disdained the earth he walked upon.

Here the old fellow brightening up, broke out again: "Aye! there, Mr. Sergeant, there is a horse for you! isn't he, my boy?"

"Faith, a n.o.ble animal, sir," replied Macdonald.

"Yes, egad! a n.o.ble animal indeed! -- a charger for a king, Mr. Sergeant! -- Well, my compliments to colonel Tarleton: tell him I've sent him a horse, my young Selim, my grand Turk, do you hear, my son of thunder?

And say to the colonel that I don't grudge him neither, for egad!