University of Virginia Library

25. CHAPTER XXV.

Colonel Marion examined the fugitive himself.
He was one of the little squad of Colonel Walton, and
had sustained the battle as one of the regiment of Colonel

Dixon, to whose North Carolina regiment—the only
one that had stood the fight—he had been attached by
Gates. He had seen the first and last of the battle, and
had been fortunate enough to reach one of the swamps
which lay on the flank of both armies, where he found
shelter until the victor had departed. He gave the
whole gloomy story of the defeat in broad colours to
the partisans; and though he could say nothing as to
the fate of Gates himself, and the several officers, touching
whose safety the inquiries of Marion and of Singleton
were made in particular, he yet knew enough to
assure them of the utter dispersion of the army, and
the slaughter, according to his account, of at least one
half of it. His farther intelligence was important, and
its advantages were yet available. He had seen, and
with difficulty had escaped from the British guard,
which had been despatched by Cornwallis, having
custody of the continental prisoners, destined for the
provost, or common prison in Charlestown. That guard,
he informed the partisan, had pursued an upper road,
and would, according to all probability, cross the
Santee at Nelson's, a few miles higher up the river.
Burdened with baggage and prisoners, they might not
yet have reached the river; and with this hope, giving his
signals with the rapidity of lightning, Marion collected
his squad, resolute to try odds, though inferior in number,
with the detachment in question. The rescue of one
hundred and fifty continentals, for that was their least
number, would be an important acquisition to the cause;
and a successful stroke, so soon after such a defeat as
that of Gates, might have the beneficial effect of restoring
confidence, and giving renewed hope to the paralyzed
Carolinians. Himself undespairing, Marion adopted
his plan with the determination. Dividing his force
into three parties, he gave one to Colonel Hugh Horry,
another to Singleton, and the third he led in person.
The signal sounded, the men rose from their hiding-places,
gathered around their different leaders; and
within an hour after the receipt of the intelligence just
given, and while the sun yet shone richly and gem-like
in the west, the partisans were all mounted upon their
fleet steeds, and dashing up to the spot where they
looked for, and prepared themselves to receive, their
enemies. Silence resumed her savage empire in the
swamp, and the gray-squirrel leaped fearlessly over
the island retreat, which an hour before he had trembled
but to approach.

As the partisan drew nigh the designated point, he
received intelligence that the guard with the prisoners
had not yet crossed the river, but had marched to
Great Savannah, a little above it. He was particularly
informed as to their number, and that of their prisoners,
though nothing was yet known to the partisans
of the peculiar condition of some among them—
the doom to which they were destined, or of those who
had already been sacrificed to the vindictive spirit of
the British commander. All this they were yet to
learn. Moving now with greater rapidity, Marion soon
crossed the river with all his force; and as the enemy
could not be very far off, he proceeded more cautiously.
He sent out his scouts, and as they severally came in
with intelligence, he prepared his farther plans. Night
came on, and he was advised that the British would
most probably lie by on the main road, at the public-house
which was kept on the edge of the Great Savannah.
The opinion seemed probable, as travelling
by night in the southern swamps was no part of the
British custom; and to cross the river after dark would
have been a risk of some magnitude. This, however,
was Marion's favourite mode of warfare; and calling
in his parties, he gave directions to Colonel Horry to
make a circuit round the savannah, and lurking on its
lower edge, gain the pass of Horse creek, and keep
close in cover until he should receive a communication
how to proceed from him. The reckless and
ready officer in question immediately went off in obedience
to the commander. To Major Singleton a
similar station was intrusted on the other side of the
road, where the woods were open, and where he was
compelled, as the sheltering cover was thin and imperfect,

to bury his party more deeply in its recesses
than would otherwise have been considered necessary.
Marion's men, and the largest division, occupied both
sides of the road above the designated house, while a
detachment of selected scouts traversed the whole line
of road, bearing intelligence to the commander as
promptly as it was required.

Unsuspectingly, the British guard marched on; and
duly informed at every step in their progress, Marion
suffered them safely to reach the house at which they
were determined to stop for the night. A scout of
the partisan looked in at the window, disguised and
unobserved. He carefully watched the progress of the
supper, saw the disposition of the soldiers and the
prisoners, and left, in safety, his place of observation.
A little before daylight in the morning, while it was
yet quite dark, an officer of Marion communicated to
Horry the instructions of the commander. Promptly
moving forward as directed, Horry led his men to the
house, and had almost reached it without interruption;
but as he threw wide a little paling gate that opened
from the garden, through which he came to the courtyard
of the dwelling, he was challenged by a sentinel.
Horry not answering, but advancing at the moment with
alacrity, the sentinel fired his piece unsuccessfully,
and was immediately cut down by him. The alarm
was given, however; and though the surprise was effective,
it was incomplete. A pile of arms before the door
was seized upon; but the great body of the enemy, partly
armed, made their escape through the front entrance,
and immediately pushed down the road. It was then
that Singleton charged upon them. He was promptly
met—the guard rallied with coolness and in good order,
and the small force of Singleton was compelled to give
back before them. But Horry, who had lingered to
release the continentals, now came up, and the contest
was resumed with vigour. The British, slowly moving
down the road, held their way unbroken, and fought
bravely at brief pauses in their movement. They
were still in force quite too great for the parties opposed

to them, and the advantages gained by the
latter were those chiefly of surprise. While they
fought, the guard divided; a portion of them carried
Colonel Walton, with such other prisoners as had
been subjects of special judgment and particular care,
to the cover of the savannah, while the rest, now
unencumbered, continued the fight valiantly enough.
But the troops of Marion now rushed in, fresh men,
and falling upon the enemy's rear, they soon finished
the contest. The fight had lasted, however,
for an hour at least before its conclusion; and the loss
of the British was severe. The partisans not only
rescued all the continentals, one hundred and fifty in
number—all of the Maryland line—but they took besides
twenty-two regulars of the 63d regiment, including
their captain, and sundry other prisoners. But the
small guard, carrying with it Colonel Walton, and the
other South Carolina prisoners, had gone clear; and
hurrying under good guidance to the Santee, while yet
the fight was going on, they seized upon some of the
boats of Marion, and were safe upon the other side
of the river, and speeding upon their way, before the
conflict was half over.

What was the horror of Singleton, when, at daylight,
the released prisoners gave intelligence of the destiny
of Colonel Walton, and the perfect escape with their
charge of the guard having him in custody. He immediately
rushed to his commander with the melancholy
narrative.

“It is unhappy—dreadfully unhappy, Major Singleton,”
said the commander—“but what are we to do? It
is now scarcely possible that we should overtake them;
they have the start too greatly to leave us any hope of
a successful pursuit, and beyond that, I see nothing
that can be done. If they do indeed execute our citizens,
we shall only be compelled to retaliate.”

“That of course we must do, Colonel Marion,” was
the rejoinder; “and I am willing, sir, that my name
should be the first on the list which pledges our officers
to the practice, and incurs the risk which such

pledge involves. But, surely, we must do something
to save, not less than to revenge, our countrymen. I
believe, Colonel Marion—nay, I am sure, I can overtake
the detachment. Give me, sir, but twenty men—
the men I brought with me from the Cypress—they
will volunteer in the service, they will risk their lives
freely in behalf of Colonel Walton.”

Marion regarded the earnest speaker with a melancholy
glance. He shook his head mournfully as he
replied—

“They are too far on the start—some hours the lead
upon you. It is impossible, Major Singleton, that you
should overtake them.”

“Our horses are superior—”

“But not fresh—no, no! It is a bad business; but
I fear we cannot mend it.”

“You will not suffer a brave man, a good citizen, to
perish! Pardon me, sir—pardon me, if in my earnestness
and anxiety I seem to overstep the bounds of propriety
and privilege. Pardon me, sir; but hear me.
Permit me to make the effort—let me save him if I
can. Think, sir, he is a man of great influence in his
parish, one highly valuable to our cause; he is brave
and virtuous—a good citizen—a father!”

“All—all these I grant; but look at the prospect,
Major Singleton—the great risk to all—the little hope.
After this defeat of the continentals, this region to
which you propose to go, will be one of certain doom
to you. We shall now ourselves have to hurry farther
from the Santee; and I have already prepared the
orders to march our little brigade back to Lynch's
creek, though I leave you and the force you propose
to take to certain destruction.”

“Not certain, not even probable, Colonel Marion;
for, believe me, I will do nothing rash.”

Marion smiled.

“Your blood even now is boiling, Major Singleton;
the veins rise upon your forehead—your cheek burns
—your lips quiver. You are in a feverish impatience
which will hurry you into fight with the first opportunity.”

“Oh no, sir—no! I am fevered, I am thirsting, I
grant you, to strike the enemy at all hazards; but I
know the risk. I have estimated the danger. The
section to which I go has been exhausted of troops to
supply the army of Cornwallis at Camden. A small
force, scarcely superior to the little one I brought with
me, is all the garrison at Dorchester. The army of
Cornwallis will press the pursuit of Gates into North
Carolina; the results of so great a victory will not be
neglected by the British commander. This movement
will leave the country free for some time; and they
have not men enough below to find me, or rout me
out of the Cypress.”

But Marion thought differently as to the probable
course of Cornwallis. He knew the weakness, not only
of the British army, but of the footing upon which their
cause stood in the country. He knew that Cornwallis
had quite enough to do in South, without exposing his
army in North Carolina; and he shook his head in reply
to the arguments of Singleton, as he suggested his
own doubts of their validity.

“But, I know you, Major Singleton,” he continued;
“and your claims to serve and save your relative if
you can, should be considered. What force will you
require for this?”

“Twenty men, sir; twenty will do.”

“Take thirty, sir, if you can get as many to volunteer
from the force brought with you. I give you no
instructions. I will not fetter your courage or good
sense with any commands of mine. But I counsel you,
sir, not to forget, that neither your own, nor the lives of
your men, are at this period your or their property.
You belong to your country, Major Singleton; and it is
only as one of her sons and defenders, that I am now
willing to save Colonel Walton. Proceed now with
what speed you may; and if safe and successful, you
will seek me out, with the old signals, somewhere near
Black Mingo. Go, sir; and God speed and prosper
you.”

The acknowledgments of Singleton were hearty,

though made in haste. He hurried to the men of the low
country, and in few words made known the circumstances.
Humphries, Davis, Porgy, the two Framptons—indeed,
all of the original party from the Cypress
—volunteered instantly. He could have had a dozen
more for the enterprise. Black Tom was permitted,
after some difficulty, to attend the party; the obstinate
negro swearing he would not be left: and with this
addition to his limited number, Singleton was soon in
saddle, and pushing fast in pursuit of the enemy.