University of Virginia Library

27. CHAPTER XXVII.

The next morning, a little after sunrise, as Robinson was holding
the watch on the outer ledge of the rock, in a position that enabled
him to survey the approaches to the spot through the valley, as
well as to keep his eye upon the ensign and Christopher Shaw,
who were both asleep under cover of the crag, he was startled by a
distant noise of something breaking through the bushes on the
margin of the brook. At first it struck him that this was caused
by deer stalking up the stream; but he soon afterwards descried the
head and shoulders of a man, whose motions showed him to be
struggling through the thicket towards the base of the hill. This
person at length reached a space of open ground, where he halted
and looked anxiously around him, thus revealing his figure, as he
sat on horseback, to the observation of the sergeant, who, in the
meantime, had taken advantage of a low pine tree and a jutting
angle of a rock to screen himself from the eager eye of the traveller—at
least until he should be satisfied as to the other's character
and purpose.

A loud and cheerful halloo, several times repeated by the
stranger, seemed to indicate his quest of a lost companion; and
this gradually drew the sergeant, with a weary motion, from his
hiding-place, until assuring himself that the comer was alone, he
stept out to the edge of the shelf of rock, and presenting his musket,
peremptorily gave the common challenge of “Who goes there?”

“A friend to Horse Robinson,” was the reply of the visitor, in
whom my reader recognises John Ramsay.

Before further question might be asked and answered, John had
dismounted from his horse and clambered to the platform, where
he greeted the sergeant and the hastily-awakened Christopher
Shaw, with a hearty shake of the hand; and then proceeded to

communicate the pressing objects of his visit, and to relate all that
he had learned of the recent events during his short stay at his
father's house.

In the consultation that followed these disclosures, Ramsay earnestly
urged his comrades to make instant preparation to quit their
present retirement, and to attempt the enterprise of conducting the
prisoner to Williams, who was supposed to be advancing into the
neighborhood of a well known block-house, or frontier fortification,
on the Saluda, about forty miles from their present position.

The message with which Ramsay was charged from Sumpter to
Williams, made it necessary that he should endeavor to reach that
officer as soon as possible; and the sergeant, rejoicing in the
thought of being so near a strong body of allies who might render
the most essential aid to the great object of his expedition, readily
concurred in the propriety of the young trooper's proposal. This
enterprise was also recommended by the necessity of taking some
immediate steps to preserve the custody of the ensign, whose capture
had already been so serviceable to the cause of Arthur Butler.
In accordance, moreover, with John Ramsay's anxious entreaty,
Christopher Shaw, it was determined, should hasten back to the
mill at the earliest moment.

A speedy departure was, therefore, resolved on, and accordingly
all things were made ready, in the course of an hour, to commence
the march. At the appointed time the ensign was directed to
descend into the valley, where he was once more bound to his
horse. The conferences between the sergeant and his two comrades
had been held out of the hearing of the prisoner; but it was
now thought advisable to make him acquainted with the late proceedings
that had transpired with regard to Butler, and especially
with the respite that had been given to that officer by Innis. This
communication was accompanied by an intimation that he would
best consult his own comfort and safety by a patient submission to
the restrictions that were put upon him: inasmuch as his captors
had no disposition to vex him with any other precautions than
were necessary for his safe detention during the present season of
peril to Butler.

With this admonition the party began their journey. The first
two or three hours were occupied in returning, by the route of the

valley, to the Ennoree. When they reached the river they found
themselves relieved from the toils of the narrow and rugged path
by which they had threaded the wild mountain dell, and introduced
into an undulating country covered with forest, and intersected
by an occasional but unfrequented road leading from one
settlement to another. Here Christopher Shaw was to take leave of
his companions, his path lying along the bank of the Ennoree, whilst
the route to be pursued by the others crossed the river and extended
thence southwards to the Saluda. The young miller turned his horse's
head homewards, with some reluctance at parting with his friends
in a moment of such interest, and bore with him many messages
of comfort and courage to those whom he was about to rejoin—and
more particularly from the sergeant to Butler, in case Christopher
should have the good fortune to be able to deliver them. At the
same time, Horse Shoe and John Ramsay, with the prisoner, forded
the Ennoree, and plunged into the deep forest that lay upon its
further bank.

For several hours they travelled with the greatest circumspection,
avoiding the frequented roads and the chance of meeting such wayfarers
as might be abroad on their route. It was a time of great
anxiety and suspense, but the habitual indifference of military life
gave an air of unconcern to the conduct of the soldiers, and
scarcely affected, in any visible degree, the cheerfulness of their
demeanor.

They reached, at length, the confines of a cultivated country—
a region which was known to be inhabited by several Tory families.
To avoid the risk of exposure to persons who might be unfriendly
to their purpose, they thought it prudent to delay entering upon
this open district until after sunset, that they might continue their
journey through the night. The difficulty of ascertaining their
road in the dark, and the danger of seeking information from the
few families whose habitations occurred to their view, necessarily
rendered their progress slow. The time was, therefore, passed in
weary silence and persevering labor, in the anxious contemplation
of the probability of encountering some of the enemy's scouts.

At the break of day they stopped to refresh themselves; and the
contents of Horse Shoe's wallet, unhappily reduced to a slender
supply of provisions, were distributed amongst the party. During

this halt, John Ramsay commanded the ensign to exchange his
dress with him; and our faithful ally was converted, by this traffic,
for the nonce, into a spruce, well-looking, and gay young officer
of the enemy's line.

The most hazardous portion of their journey now lay before
them. They were within a few miles of the Saluda, from whence,
at its nearest point, it was some six or seven more down the stream
to the Block-house—the appointed rendezvous, where it was yet a
matter of uncertainty whether Williams had arrived. The space
between the travellers and the river was a fertile and comparatively
thickly-peopled region, of which the inhabitants were almost
entirely in the Tory interest. The broad day-light having over-taken
them on the confines of this tract, exposed them to the
greatest risk of being questioned. They had nothing left but to
make a bold effort to attain the river by the shortest path; and
thence to pursue the bank towards the rendezvous.

“Courage, John,” said Horse Shoe, smiling at the new garb of
his comrade; “you may show your pretty feathers to-day to them
that are fond of looking at them. And you, my young clodpole,
ride like an honest Whig, or I mought find occasion to do a discomfortable
thing, by putting a bullet through and through you.
Excuse the liberty, sir, for these are ticklish times; but I shall
ondoubtedly be as good as my word.”

Our adventurers soon resumed their journey. They had come
within a mile of the Saluda without interruption, and began to
exchange congratulations that the worst was passed, when they
found themselves descending a sharp hill which jutted down upon
an extensive piece of pasture ground. One boundary of this was
watered by a brook, along whose margin a fringe of willows, intermixed
with wild shrubbery of various kinds, formed a screen some
ten or fifteen feet in height. As soon as this range of meadow was
observed, our cautious soldiers halted upon the brow of the hill to
reconnoitre; and perceiving nothing to excite their apprehension,
they ventured down, upon the track of an ill-defined road, which
took a direction immediately over the broadest portion of the field.

They had scarcely crossed the brook at the bottom of the hill,
before they heard the remote voices of men in conversation, and
the tones of a careless laugh. On looking towards the upper section

of the stream, they were aware of a squad of loyalist cavalry,
who came riding, in the shade of the willows, directly towards the
spot where the travellers had entered upon the meadow. The
party consisted of seven or eight men, who were, at this instant, not
more than one hundred paces distant.

“They are upon us, sergeant!” exclaimed John Ramsay.
“Make sure of the prisoner: retreat as rapidly as you can. Leave
me to myself. Make for the Block-house—I will meet you there.”

With these hasty intimations, he pricked his courser up to full
speed, and shaped his flight directly across the open field, in full
view of the enemy.

Horse Shoe, at the same moment, drew a pistol, cocked it, and
throwing the rein of St. Jermyn's horse into the hands of the rider,
he cried out:—

“Back across the branch and into the woods! Push for it, or
you are a dead man! On, on!” he added, as he rode at high
speed immediately beside the ensign; “a stumble, or a whisper
above your breath, and you get the bullet. Fly—your life is in
your horse's heels!”

The resolute tone of the sergeant had its effect upon his prisoner,
who yielded a ready obedience to the pressing orders, and bounded
into the thicket with as much alacrity as if flying from an enemy.

Meanwhile, the troopers, struck with the earnest haste of one
whose dress bespoke a British officer, speeding across the field, did
not doubt that they had afforded this timely opportunity for the
escape of a prisoner from the hands of the Whigs.

“Wheel up, lads,” shouted the leader of the squad, “it is the
ensign! Wheel up and form a platoon to cut off the pursuit. We
have him safe out of their clutches!”

Impressed with the conviction that a considerable force of Whig
cavalry were at hand, the troopers directed all their efforts to cover
what they believed Ensign St. Jermyn's retreat, and were now seen
formed into a platoon, and moving towards the middle of the plain,
in such a manner as to place themselves between the fugitive and
his supposed pursuers. Here they delayed a few minutes, as if expecting
an attack; until finding that the object of their solicitude
had safely crossed the field and plunged into the distant woods,
they rode away at a rapid pace in the same direction. When they

reached the further extremity of the open ground, they halted for
an instant, turned their eyes back towards the spot of their first
discovery, and, finding that no attempt was made to follow, gave a
hearty huzza, and rode onward in search of their prize.

The stratagem had completely succeeded; Ramsay had escaped,
and Horse Shoe had withdrawn his prisoner into the neighboring
wood upon the hill, where he was able to observe the whole scene.
After a brief interval, the sergeant resumed his journey, and, with
all necessary circumspection, bent his steps towards the river, where
he arrived without molestation, and thence he continued his march
in the direction of the rendezvous.

John Ramsay did not stop until he had crossed the Saluda and
advanced a considerable distance on the opposite bank, where, to
his great joy, he was encountered by a look-out party of Williams's
regiment. Our fugitive had some difficulty in making himself
known to his friends, and escaping the salutation which an enemy
was likely to obtain at their hands; but when he surrendered to
them, and made them acquainted with the cause of his disguise,
the party instantly turned about with him, and proceeded in quest
of the sergeant and his prisoner.

It was not long before they fell in with the small detachment of
Connelly's troopers,—as the late masters of the meadow turned out
to be—who were leisurely returning from their recent exploit.
These, finding themselves in the presence of superior numbers,
turned to flight. Not far behind them Ramsay and his new companions
encountered Horse Shoe; and the whole party proceeded
without delay to Williams's camp.

Colonel Williams had reached the Block-house on the preceding
evening with a force of two hundred cavalry. Clarke and Shelby
happened, at this juncture, to be with him; and these three gallant
partisans were now anxiously employed in arranging measures for
that organized resistance to the Tory Dominion which fills so striking
a chapter in the history of the Southern war, and which it had
been the special object of Butler's mission to promote. Horse
Shoe was enabled to communicate to Williams and his confederates
the general purpose of this mission, and the disasters which had
befallen Butler in his attempt to reach those with whom he was to
co-operate. This intelligence created a lively interest in behalf of

the captive, and it was instantly determined to make some strenuous
effort for his deliverance. Whilst these matters were brought
into consultation by the leaders, Horse Shoe and John Ramsay
mingled amongst the soldiers, in the enjoyment of that fellowship
which forms the most agreeable feature in the associations of the
camp.