University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

The course of Singleton was now towards “The
Oaks.” He was about to pay a parting visit, and
to seek, if possible, to persuade his uncle to set forth
with him for the Santee, with whatever force might
have been procured by him from among his neighbours.
This was, indeed, his only opportunity. He
had arrested one courier, it is true; but others must
succeed in giving to Cornwallis the important intelligence
which, for the present, he had staid. The
movement of Cornwallis towards Camden, in compliance
with the necessity of the case, and Rawdon's
solicitations, would have the effect of breaking up communication
throughout the intervening country, and
making any effort to pass it dangerous to the partisan.
This was a consideration which he necessarily concluded
must influence Colonel Walton's conduct; and
the opportunity of passing at Nelson's, now filled with
Marion's men, was one not to be disregarded. His
hopes were, that his uncle would carry with him a decent
number of sturdy fellows into the camp of the continentals.
Nor was this hope altogether premature.
Colonel Walton, although slow in taking up the cause
of his country, had, at last, set heartily about it. By
his earnestness and his industry, since his determination
had been made to resume his arms, he strove to

appease his conscience, and do away with any reproach
that might have been due to his past forbearance. He
had made some progress with his recruits, and was
night and day indefatigable. He rode through his
neighbourhood among all sorts of people, and played
his game with skill and coolness. He knew that
Proctor watched him, and he was circumspect accordingly.
But, though cautious, he did not relax. In the
little interval which followed his resolve to come out,
and the moment under our view, he had secured some
twenty pledges—pledges of stout, honest countrymen,
—men who had been chafed by the insolence of their
oppression, borne down by wrongs, and impatient for
redress. He was now, even while Singleton rode
with his attendant towards the river, engaged in close
council with a little band at Johnson's house, on Cane
Acre, to whom he was successfully urging such considerations
as did not fail, in the end, to effect the object
he desired. Let us there leave him, for the present,
and return to the camp at Bacon's bridge.

With the close of day, Humphries made his preparations
for moving to the Cypress in obedience to the
command of Singleton. The horses were saddled
quickly, the arms prepared, the surplus baggage put
upon pack-horses, upon which the prisoners were
mounted, and all appearance of a camp broken up in
that quarter. These last were placed under the immediate
surveillance of Davis, who brought up the rear
of the troop. The custody of Hastings placed the
rivals in a novel sort of relationship to one another;
and the sturdy Goose Creeker did not feel less of his
bitterness of spirit because he was compelled to suppress
its utterance. His old love for Bella Humphries
grew active with the feeling of jealousy, which the
presence of the serjeant necessarily provoked. He
really loved the girl, and his hate for the dragoon was,
in consequence, entirely without qualification. He
felt that he was getting angry, as, while arranging the
prisoners, his eye continually fell upon Hastings. But
he knew and respected the situation of the enemy too

much to give utterance to his feelings at large; feelings
which, at the same time, were sufficiently evident
to the eye of the dragoon. He, on the other hand,
conscious of his danger, and apprehensive of punishment
corresponding to the outrageous character of his
last offence, strove to be rather conciliating, and addressed
some soothing and gracious speech to his rival,
as the latter approached him; but the other was not to
be soothed in this fashion. A glance of contempt,
mingled with hate, was the only response given to the
obsequious remark of Hastings; and in a few minutes
after, when he could do so unobserved, Davis came
back to where his prisoner stood, and in a low tone
thus addressed him—

“Look ye, Sergeant Hastings, there's no love lost
atween us, and it's no use for you to make sweet
speeches. You're in no fix to help yourself now; but
I've got a grudge agin you that must be satisfied, and
I'll be on the look-out, though it's agin orders, to work
a clear way for you out of this hobble, if so be you'll
only promise to give me satisfaction when I've done
so. Say the word now that you cross swords with me,
if I help you to a clear track, and here's my hand upon
it, that you shall have a fair fight and free passage.”

“Well—but, Davis, my friend—”

“No friend, if you please. I'm your deadly enemy,
and if so be I can, as God shall help me, I'll cut your
heart out of your hide, or there's no snakes.”

“Well, well—but I've no weapon.”

“I'll bring you one—only say the word,” was the
pertinacious and quick reply. Finding there was no
escape, the sergeant readily enough closed with the
terms, and Davis then promised to seek him out in the
swamp, conduct him to a clear ground, and make the
terms of fight equal between them. This done, he
turned away from the prisoner with something more
of light-heartedness than usual, as he anticipated the
pleasure of that strife with his enemy which promised
to revenge him for so many wrongs.

The prisoners were now all mounted, Goggle along

with them, and so disposed as to ride between alternate
files of the troopers. In this order they set forth
for the recesses of the swamp, and a route was chosen
by Humphries which enabled him to keep away from
all beaten roads; the necessity still existing, while in
the neighbourhood of a superior force, for the utmost
caution, as the objects of the partisan required security
from observation even before any successes which
so small a party might obtain. It was not long before
they began to enter the swamp, and to meet with its
obstructions. The twilight gradually ceased to glimmer,
the trees crowded more closely, and the shades
stalking about them incessantly grew incorporated into
huge masses, from which the trees themselves were
scarce distinguishable. Then came the varieties of
the swamp; the black and stagnant puddle, the slimy
ooze, the decayed and prostrate tree, and the hanging
vine swinging across the path. The night came down
shortly after they had penetrated into the morass, and,
though a clear starlight evening, it was only now and
then that glimpses could be obtained of the pale and
melancholy watcher, suddenly peering down into the
opening of the trees overhead. A closer order of
march was now imposed upon the troop, as, carefully
leading the way, Humphries guided them through one
little creek, and along the banks of another. The earth
between the two parallel waters lay tolerably high,
and formed a defile, as it were, through which they continued
to move with no other obstructions than such as
were presented by the occasional morass formed by
indentions of the creek, and the close trees, that suffered
them to move only in single file. Once fairly in the
swamp, Humphries had a torch lighted and carried by
a trooper in front with himself. This serving sufficiently
to pick the path, though yielding no assistance
to those who came after, they were compelled simply
to keep close, and follow the leader. The lieutenant
kept unrelaxing watch during all this period, and the
utmost order was observed during their progress. His
ear was keenly observant of every sound, though deceived
by none of them. He was skilled in woodcraft,
and knew well how to decoy the bird, and to deceive
the reptile, by his various imitations. At this time,
however, he permitted himself no exercise of his powers
in this respect; but, watchful in the highest degree,
he gave his orders briefly, in a low tone, and without
the employment of unnecessary words. At length the
defile narrowed, the undergrowth thickened about the
trees in luxuriant vegetation, and so dark was the
place that the figure of each individual horse could
only be made out by the rider immediately behind it.
To the instinct and better vision of the animals themselves
the movement was in great part left; the trooper
and his prisoner alike only taking care not to fall far
behind the steed in advance. This being the case,
and heedful of his charge, while Davis was directed
closely to watch and bring up the rear, Humphries
stationed himself at the mouth of the defile, having
first led the way through which they were yet to pass.
There, with uplifted torch, he numbered one by one
the steeds of all that came through and passed before
him; and in this way, with a precaution which he considered
the most complete that could be adopted, confidently
thought that there could be no risk of losing
any of his prisoners. And, indeed, with the ordinary
prisoner, the man only skilled to fight bulldog fashion,
without ingenuity, and solely relying upon his teeth,
the precaution would have been enough. But Goggle
was not of this description. He had the gift, along
with Indian blood, of Indian subtlety. He had kept
his course quietly and patiently with the rest, and
there was no gloom, no dulness, no flagging of spirits
about him. All was coolness in his mood, and he
knew his ground. He had heard the orders of Humphries,
readily understood the route, and prepared to
avail himself of circumstances as they might occur in
his favour. There was a cry which the troops were
heard to utter successively, as they advanced through
a certain point of the defile, the meaning of which
he clearly enough understood. A ragged pine had
thrust an arm directly over the path, and so low as to
endanger the head of a tall man moving along too
erectly. The cry of each rider, therefore, as he passed
under it, was to his immediate follower—

“Stoop low!—heads down!”

Goggle heard this long before he reached it. He
coolly prepared himself, buttoned his jacket closely,
and freed his feet from his stirrups as he proceeded.
He did this without the slightest precipitation or impatience.
In order to accustom his horse to the relaxation
of the bit, so that his movement might not undergo any
change at the trying moment, he gradually yielded up
the bridle, until the animal failed entirely to feel its
restraints upon his mouth, then, dropping it altogether
as he heard the cry of his predecessor to “stoop,” instead
of doing so, he threw his arms upward, caught
the overhanging branch firmly with both hands, and
with the activity of an ape lifted himself fairly out of
the saddle, and for a moment swung in air. The horse
passed from under him, and with his old habit followed
the lead to which he had been accustomed.
The succeeding steed approached, Goggle gave the
cry, in the most measured language, and as he did so
he whirled himself over out of the trooper's way, upon
the top of the branch, where he sat with all a squirrel's
sense of security. Here he remained in quiet as the
troop proceeded. He knew the length of the defile,
and could see in the distance the glimmering of the
torch by which Humphries enumerated the troopers
as they came forth from the avenue; and as the rear
of the party with Davis was at hand, he felt secure
that all would have passed him some time before his
empty saddle would warn the lieutenant of his departure.
A moment after, the voice of Davis, as he
passed under the tree where the fugitive sat chuckling
at his success, apprized him of the proper time to
commence his flight. The ground was free, and dropping
from his perch, the fugitive crossed the path, and
took the water of the creek as soon as possible, following
its course towards the river for a brief space, then

turning aside and shrouding himself, while still keeping
his way, in a close-set forest of small saplings.
Here he had scarcely entered when the alarm was
given. The vigilant Humphries had discovered the
absence of the prisoner, as the untrammelled animal
came forth from the defile. A confused shouting, a
rush as of one or more in search, reached the ears of
the fugitive; but he was safe, and laughed at all pursuit.
The sound soon died away; and Goggle,
who had lain quiet while the confusion lasted, now
resumed his flight. Davis and one of the troopers
had dashed back when the alarm was given; but in
the thick darkness which shrouded the region, there
was no prospect of retaking the prisoner so long as
he kept silent. This was soon evident to Humphries,
and, sore and chagrined, he hurried on the progress of
the party, swearing vengeance against the tory, his
hostility to whom had now received an added and
doubly active stimulant. He reached the camp late
at night without farther accident, and without meeting
with Singleton, as the latter had proposed. They
had taken different routes; and when the commander
emerged from the swamp, he took the road back to
the bridge, only accompanied by his youthful protege.
He reached the river just as the fugitive Goggle was
about to emerge from the swamp. The latter heard
at a distance the feet of the horse, and lay snug beside
the road as they passed. The unobstructed starlight
was now around them, and he was enabled to
distinguish their persons. He conjectured what would
be the course of Singleton, and he now beheld the opportunity
of finding his reward with the British, and
of gaining his revenge upon one, at least, of his American
enemies. Toil and fatigue were at once forgotten,
fear was discarded from his mind; and, now running,
now walking, with an Indian pertinacity of spirit, he
took the directest course leading to Dorchester.