 | CHAPTER XLIV.
PLAN FOR THE CAMPAIGN OF THE DOG-DAYS. The forayers, or, The raid of the dog-days |  |
44. CHAPTER XLIV.
PLAN FOR THE CAMPAIGN OF THE DOG-DAYS.
While our cranes were busied in the assault upon the green
jackets of the pond, the American general had assembled about
him, in the woods in the rear of his encampment, all the leading
persons of his army. Sentinels were duly stationed around for
the keeping off of intruders. The assembly was a somewhat
primitive one in the fashion of its grouping, if not its materials.
The greensward offered the only seats. The green boughs of
oak and pine furnished the only roofing. A few logs afforded
places for persons of distinction; but the greater number were
fain to make themselves level with the green bosom of their
mother earth — at this season covered with a plentiful clothing
of verdure; crab-grass and crowfoot, to say nothing of dock,
fern, and a pretty variety of wild flowers. General Greene received
the several persons as they presented themselves. He
was a person of imposing size and figure — too portly for the
ethereal, but of goodly make for a major-general of provincials
— of fine, commanding form — of mild, intelligent countenance,
which a slight obliquity in one of his eyes did not impair: of
simple manners, easy and not ungraceful carriage. Greene was
a man of good military abilities; — we are not prepared to call
them extraordinary; — of cool, sedate mind, and ready resource;
not very daring; not brilliant of conception; too Fabian of
policy for the proper use of cavalry — which implies the necessity
of daring; and perhaps a little wanting in that promptness
which secures and fixes victory at the moment of crisis, when
she trembles from side to side, uncertain where to settle. In
the sort of warfare which he was called upon to conduct, during
the war of the Revolution, in the South, he was particularly
useful, perhaps, because of his caution — in not perilling the
ruin, and in tempering a very sanguine and inpetuous people.
He was cautious, like Washington; but in greater degree
than Washington; and did not aim at any brilliant performances.
In a service so inexperienced as that of the American,
during the Revolution, and with such incoherent elements to
manage, caution, perhaps, was an element of the greatest military
virtue in a general. It might lose many opportunities, and
very possibly did, but it incurred no extraordinary perils, such
as might not be repaired without great embarrassment.
The bluff, manly person and well-bronzed face of William
Washington, a man even more massy of build than Greene, was
the first to present itself. Washington was famous at a charge.
He affected no military refinements or science. There is our
enemy. He is in the way. No more was necessary. Washington
understood the rest, and rushed at once to his performance.
And Marion followed, slight of form, brown of aspect,
with his keen black eyes, and vulture-like hook of nose, Roman
all over; quiet of manner, retiring of habit; undistinguished in
carriage; and, next to Pickens, one of the most unpresuming
of persons, almost shy and timid of approach in society. Too
modest, in fact, for the assertion of his own rights.
Harry Lee, of the legion, next presented himself, a person of
much more pretension and of genuine dragoon audacity; a keen
spirited soldier; who kept his legion in first-rate order, at the
expense of everybody else; something of a martinet; something
of a carpet knight; but full of talent, which only needed a more
wholesome training, to develop into first-rate excellence. He
took the general's hand, smiled complacently around upon the
group; sauntered about for a while; his dragoon sword jostling
the ground as he walked, as was the way with Tarleton's, from
its great length. He seemed quite too mercurial to seek a seat.
He kept the turf until he suddenly encountered the sardonic
smile of Sumter; when he let himself down quietly enough upon
the roots of an oak, and watched the approach of the successive
parties to the conference.
Sumter's fine features were remarkably composed; composed,
perhaps, with some effort — for Sumter was in no good humor
with Greene or Lee at this period. He thought himself wronged
and Marion, by his propensity to overbear and manage; and
Greene had somewhat become the instrument, blind or otherwise,
of this dashing self-complacency of the legionary colonel.
But Greene had erred, besides, of his own head, and both of
the partisan generals, Sumter and Marion, were by this time
made aware that, while dealing with them, quietly, in the handsomest
terms of compliment, he had been writing letters to
other persons which spoke slightingly of themselves, their
followers, and performances. Perhaps, but for Rutledge, both
of them would long before have abandoned the service. Marion
did seek an occasion to resign, from offences then received; and
Sumter finally disbanded his brigade, in indignation, not long
after this very council.
But Rutledge himself appears, having reached the camp an
hour before. He is followed by Colonel Williams, the adjutant
general of the army, a Marylander of good abilities; cool, circumspect,
vigilant, and of considerable military talents. Colonel
Carrington came with him — a high-toned officer, in whose
judgment Greene entertained considerable confidence.
These were all present at the conference, which was not a
council of war, by the way, but a sort of military conference for
the interchange of opinions. Greene welcomed them all with
proper breeding, offered them pleasantly a choice of seats, and,
in a few brief remarks, congratulated them on the prospect of
affairs. He then motioned Rutledge, with whom he had already
enjoyed a private conversation. To Rutledge he was greatly
disposed to defer, finding him, as he himself confesses, one of
the most remarkable persons he had ever met.
And he was such! The genius of John Rutledge was eminently
executive. He possessed that grand sweep of vision, in
civil affairs, which, in the military, is perhaps somewhat disparaged
by the French descriptive phrase — the coup d'œil.
With a grasp of the eye he not only took in the whole field, in
generals, but he grouped the details of it, in proper relationship,
and at the same glance, with equal confidence and facility. His
mind was wide, expansive, penetrating — and — honest. All its
instincts, if we may so speak, were truthful. The true was its
natural aim; its impulsive seeking. He was at once frank and
ready at the emergency, and always compelling respect, and
winning confidence. He was bold, ardent, just. He conceived
readily the grandeur of the trust reposed in him, and he had no
such small passions as could divert, or dissuade, from its execution.
He merged — and this is the grand secret of patriotism
always — he merged his individual pride and pleasure — his
mind and his affections, equally, in the cause which he had undertaken.
We hardly express our full meaning in these words.
He was not, briefly, so much John Rutledge, as the man of the
times and country. In these he lived, and was properly himself.
He was at once an individual and a representative man!
and such are the greatest!
He spoke — and with that ease, sweetness, strength, and earnestness,
which command attention and secure confidence.
His words entered men's ideas, and gave them the necessary
utterance. Not a man present but fancied, as he spoke, that he
himself had furnished the motif for every syllable that was
uttered.
“I congratulate you, general, and you gentlemen, all, at this
present meeting, and under such favorable auspices. Our affairs,
in one little month, have wonderfully brightened. The
prospect is now good, that we shall compel our enemy very
soon to lift his foot entirely from the breast of our little state.
You have already freed her, in great part, from his iron footsteps.
He has been driven from all his strongholds in the interior.
His fortresses, everywhere, have been dismantled. Camden
is now ours; Ninety-Six, Augusta, Granby, Forts Galphin,
Grierson, Motte; and it needs but a thousand bayonets to expel
him from the post of Orangeburg, which lies before us now!
And this conquest, under our present auspices, can not long be
wanting. You have circumscribed his bounds, and it is only
between the Santee and the Edisto, that he makes a show of
possession; and it is only in the garrison of Charleston that he
makes any show of security. Here, if he dares to linger until
we can recruit, we have him — to be destroyed at pleasure, like an
elephant in a morass. These, gentlemen, have been the fruits of
our toils since the opening of the present campaign. They are
sufficiently encouraging to justify the most sanguine hopes, that
our territory, even before the close of the present season.
“But you need respite! Our summer is even more terribly
hostile to man than the winters of Siberia! Your toils have
been already too much prolonged, particularly in the case of
those who have so nobly come to our succor, from the sister
states of Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, and Delaware.
We, who know our climate, must not suffer your patriotism to
peril your lives, unnecessarily. You must be respited! You
must seek the salubrious hills of the Santee, where I have
already made such provisions for your comfort, as was possible
to our resources. There, your general can reorganize his infantry,
and establish it on a better footing for performance.
There, while you rest, you will probably receive such supplies
from Congress, of arms and ammunition, as will enable you to
face, and grapple with the best-appointed veterans of Europe.
I am promised these supplies, and doubt not that we shall seasonably
receive them.
“Meanwhile, our cavalry and mounted riflemen, in which lies
our greatest strength, need not be idle. I am about to propose
to them a service, in which, I am sure, their patriotism will not
fail, and from which I hope that we shall derive the happiest
advantages to the country. You have seen with what efficacy
we wrought, when our troops were thrown between the outposts
of the enemy, and his base of operations. We have seen
that the movement has compelled him to contract his circle of
control, within the narrowest limits. I am for pursuing the
same process, for compelling him to quit all his interior posts —
Orangeburg, Eutaw, Wantoot, Watboo, Biggin, Monk's Corner,
and Dorchester — by once more passing between him and his
Charleston garrison. With the overwhelming force, in cavalry,
which we command, we can cut him off from all supplies — from
all communication — and alarm him lest he himself be cut off in
the interior. To do this, all that needs, is to hurl our mounted
men across the country, from Orangeburg to the seaboard,
covering the space, patrolling it everywhere, cutting his scattered
bands to pieces, and thundering at the very gates of Charleston.
If this proceeding does not make the British lion turn tail
on the Edisto for ever, he is of much tougher material than
to disparage his courage or his firmness, his valor or his
resources; but only to say that our process is one to shake even
a greater firmness and courage, than he has ever yet shown,
brave, and stubborn, and audacious as he is! What think you,
gentlemen, of the scheme of operations. It is understood, gentlemen,
that the call is for volunteers — it is not an absolute
command for service! It appeals to a portion only of the army,
and presupposes repose for the rest. To command this would
be a hardship. To appeal to the mounted men, by whom alone
the duty can be done, is all that remains to me, as governor of
the state. I wait for your reply.”
Sumter instantly answered:—
“The scheme is a good one, governor — admirable, in fact
— and can hardly fail to produce the results expected. I presume
you can hardly doubt that I am ready at any moment.
I think I may safely answer for my command.”
“What says General Marion?”
Marion smiled as he answered:—
“I am so constantly in the saddle, governor, that I am afraid
I should find summer quarters tedious. You will please take
for granted that my people are prepared for duty.”
“Colonel Lee? — Colonel Washington?”
Lee answered for the legion; and Washington made his
great sabre answer for him, drawing it half out, and thrusting
it back with a clang that sounded effectively his only half-spoken
sentence of approbation. He was a man of few words,
and his bright, upward look, declared his readiness for a share
in the enterprise.
It was then scanned in all its details.
“And now,” said Rutledge, “if you will suffer me, General
Greene, I will nominate General Sumter for the command of
the whole enterprise.”
Greene bowed his head affirmatively, and Sumter quickly said:
“I am greatly honored, sir, in your own and the choice of
the governor. I accept the appointment with pride, and trust
that my abilities will prove worthy of your confidence; will
equal, with proper performance, my own desires, and realize all
the results which you anticipate from the expedition.”
Rutledge continued:—
“General Marion gives me to understand, General Sumter,
that he will gladly serve under your banner: I know that he
will admirably and earnestly second all your enterprises; I
take for granted that you will be supported with equal ardor
by Colonels Washington and Lee, Colonels Lacy and Singleton,
the Hamptons, Taylor, Maham and Harden; all, I know, will
rejoice to engage in an expedition, the duties of which are so
honorable, and so arduous, and which promise such glorious
results to the country.
“Your command, General Sumter, as General Greene advises
me, will consist of all the state troops, the legion of Colonel
Lee, and a detachment of artillery with a single field-piece; in
the whole about one thousand men. To such a force of mounted
men, the foe can oppose nothing. With this particular arm,
moving with your accustomed celerity, you may surprise all
his outposts below, capture all his detachments, or compel their
rapid flight to the city. These are the objects of the expedition;
the farther results of which must be to compel the army
of Rawdon to fall back for its own safety, upon the seaboard,
where we hope to confine him for the future, and finally conquer
and expel him thence.
“With your permission, General Greene, I will reserve Major
Sinclair, whom I design to advance to a colonelcy in the state
line, for a separate duty, with the single company of Captain
St. Julien. He will co-operate, as occasion serves, with the
command of General Sumter, being also designed for service
below. The command of General Pickens, will need the same
temporary respite with the infantry. His horses are exhausted
in the pursuit of Cruger and the tories, as he himself writes:
`So exhausted that they could neither get up with the enemy,
nor, if they could succeed in doing so, get away from him.'
It is fortunate that ours are in better condition for the great
foray which we now contemplate — a foray, gentlemen, which,
I trust, will make itself known to future times, as the `Raid of
the Dog-days,' constituting, as it will, a novelty in our campaign,
an episode of peculiar character and interest, by reason
equally of its own glorious results, and of the season in which
it is undertaken — a season, which, hitherto, has usually given
proving quite sufficient to subdue the ardency of our patriotism.
That you are thus prepared to deny yourselves the usual respite,
adds the crowning laurels to your chivalry. May the
God of battles accord you the health, the strength, the energy,
which are essential to render your patriotism famous for all
future times.”
And, with the grace of the accomplished orator, when his
task is done, Rutledge bowed to his hearers, then especially to
Greene, and receding a pace, remained standing while the
latter came forward.
Greene, without being an eloquent or striking speaker, was
an impressive one. He had no arts; his manner was one of
great simplicity, but of great directness. Speaking briefly, and
directly to the point, he always commanded attention.
“You have heard, gentlemen,” he said, “what Governor
Rutledge has so well delivered. He has delivered our mutual
wishes and opinions already agreed upon between us, and has
spoken, I am glad to think, your sentiments no less than ours.
In the selection of General Sumter for the command of this
noble enterprise, in which you are to engage, his choice is mine.
In the indication of your objects, we are both agreed as to their
results; and in your hands I am sure we shall not be disappointed
of our hopes. It remains to me to indicate to you what
I conceive to be the best routes to pursue in this expedition.
To a certain extent, several bodies of troops must, for awhile,
act independently. They will consider themselves detached
for the purpose, subject only to the general plan of operation,
which requires their early return, as soon as each special separate
object is attained, to the headquarters of General Sumter.
These detachments will sweep down by every road or avenue
which may conduct to Charleston. General Sumter, himself,
with such a force as he shall please to reserve to himself, will
pursue the Congaree road on the south side of that river, and
the east side of Cooper. Colonel Lee with the legion, will
attempt the post at Dorchester. But, as we may reasonably
calculate on a stout resistance from the garrison at that place,
Colonel Henry Hampton, will co-operate with him in this
object, and, after securing the bridge at Dorchester, with a detachment,
Colonel Lee. Colonel Wade Hampton will also co-operate
with these bodies, with a detachment of Sumter's cavalry. To
one of these parties, must be assigned the task of securing —
holding — the bridge over the Four-Holes creek, in order that
the several detachments, operating below, may be advised of
the movements of Rawdon's force at Orangeburg. A detachment
of Marion's men, under Colonel Maham, passing the head
of Cooper river and Watboo creek, will penetrate below to
the eastward of Biggin's church, and destroy the bridge of
Watboo. This will help to obstruct the retreat of the garrison
at Biggin and Watboo. A detachment passing to the east of
Dorchester, will take the Wassamasaw road to Goose-creek
bridge, and cut off all communication between Dorchester and
Monck's Corner, and between the latter place and Charleston
by the route west of Cooper river. You thus, General Sumter,
cover all the possible routes for the escape of the enemy below.
You cut off all his communications. You isolate him at Orangeburg,
and destroy every post of rest or supply between him
and the sea. His necessities will then be to cut his way,
through us, to Charleston; and, I trust, that, with the rest
afforded us now, the main army will soon be in a condition to
render this a fruitless attempt! We may even hope, gentlemen,
to add to the laurels of the south a Rawdonade of equal
importance with the Burgoynade of Saratoga.
“The farther details, General Sumter, I yield with confidence
to your judgment and discretion.
“Gentlemen, we shall march with the dawn for the Congaree.
General Pickens, in a letter just received, advises me that Cruger
will effect his junction with Rawdon sometime to-night.
This junction will place him in command of three thousand
troops. We must not wait for his lordship when he shall be
thus strengthened. Your mounted men will be required to escort
the army to a point of safety, where we may dispense
with your further assistance. Colonel Williams will see that
due instructions will be issued in general orders before night.
For the present our conference is ended. Our official tasks are
over. — Governor Rutledge, General Sumter, General Marion —
gentlemen all, may I have the pleasure of your company at
for us — there is nothing promising, I fear, in our larder; but I
suspect we can offer you as wholesome a variety as can be found
in camp, and I certainly tender you as warm a welcome.”
The invitation was received in silence. There was apparently
some embarrassment among the group. Greene himself began
to look with embarrassment around him — not knowing what the
silence meant—when Rutledge with a merry laugh, exclaimed:—
“I am afraid, general, you are quite too late with these gentlemen
as with myself. I fancy they are all engaged elsewhere.”
Greene looked about him with the air of a man who thought
it exceedingly strange that anybody in the army should be able,
in the present condition of the commissariat, to give a dinner,
but he did not say so. He knew that it occasioned him no
small effort to supply the adequate provision; and who, besides,
so capable? As if fully comprehending his thoughts,
Rutledge continued: —
“When you fancy, general, that nobody in camp is likely to
offer so wholesome a variety of edibles for dinner as yourself, I
fancy that there is hardly a gentleman present, who does not
please himself with the idea that you are mistaken. Come, sir,
do not look so distressed. You are yet to learn what resources
are possessed by these wild riders of our friend Marion. I do
not know the fact, but I will venture a goodly dozen of old
Madeira, whenever we shall be able to get at the Charleston
cellars, that we are all invited to the same mess. I confess
myself committed too, and with my own grateful will, and gratified
consent, to the supper of Captain Porgy of Marion's.”
“And I.”
“And I.”
“And I,” — from all present, the general himself and Colonel
Lee excepted.
“Captain Porgy!” said Greene, “Captain Porgy! Where
have I heard of Captain Porgy.”
“From me, sir, I suspect,” said Lee rather sullenly. “I have
dined and supped with Captain Porgy. He is a rare companion
— a strange fellow, with a clever French faculty, of making
a dish out of a June bug, and a dinner out of — out of —”
“A mere matter of moonshine!” added Rutledge. “And a
good dish and dinner he makes of it too, let me tell you. He
will contrive to sup bountifully upon elements, upon which
simpler folks would starve. If Colonel Lee would finish now,
he will tell you that he never supped better in his life than
when he supped with Captain Porgy.”
“Never, sir; I admit it. I did not feed with the less pleasure
that I never once guessed what were the ingredients of the
dish.”
“Really, gentlemen,” said Greene, “I had no idea that I had
such a competitor. And what am I to do? I have ordered
supper for twenty, and find myself without a guest.”
And the general really appeared much mortified.
“Were it consistent with proper discipline and military practice,
general,” quoth Rutledge, “I should counsel you to do as
the rich man had to do in scripture, who made a great feast,
and, like yourself, was disappointed in his fine company — so
sent out with a dragnet and took in the lame, halt, blind, and
every way destitute. But this will hardly answer in our day
and country. But, if you will suffer me, I will reconcile all difficulties.
If you will permit me to order your cook and butler
to send all your supplies to the quarters of the swamp-fox, with
my respect to the worthy Captain Porgy, apprizing him that
you will honor his table to-night, all will be right. I will take
leave to include Colonel Lee in the invitation.”
“But this would be a great liberty, governor,” said Greene.
“Not a whit, sir. Captain Porgy will feel himself honored,
I assure you; — nay, will be greatly pleased that we have dealt
with him so frankly. He is a gentleman, sir, of an old house
and feather, and knows how to requite a courtesy whatever its
aspect.”
“But — we shall take him by surprise — so many.”
“You forget that nearly all of us are already secured as his
guests. Beside, you will send over your own supplies.”
Marion sotto voce — “If Porgy will suffer them to be brought
on table.”
And he whispered to Rutledge: —
“Let the meats be sent over before the general's cook has
touched them.”
“Right! I comprehend,” said Rutledge, in a whisper also.
Then aloud —
“Trust to me, general; I know my man — I shall be careful
not to commit you. I confess my anxiety that you should
know Captain Porgy, and see what are the resources of our Low-Country
partisans. He will be honored, I repeat, by our frank
proceedings; and,” in a whisper — “the effect will be good upon
our people. They love to see a frank simplicity and open confidence
in great men.”
Greene smiled at the compliment, his blue eyes looking archly
into those of Rutledge: —
“Ah! governor, you are more of a tactician than any military
man I know.”
“In the commissariat, perhaps,” responded the other. “Well,
you give me permission.”
“If you say so.”
“I do! and will give all the necessary orders, despatch a
a note to our host, and send over the provisions. But the
latter must be done at once, and before your cook has handled
them.”
“Why so — why not let them be dressed?” said Greene.
“For the best of reasons. If dressed, they would be held in
no condition for Captain Porgy's table. Do not be mortified, general,
to be told, that your cuisinier would never receive his diploma
from the hands of Captain Porgy. He is a martinet in the
kitchen. He refines upon soups, is sublime in sauces, and altogether
scorns and despises the cruel maceration of meat in hot
waters, which is the vulgar usage of our cooks in camp. Understand,
again, that Captain Porgy is no vulgar person; but a
rare fellow for company, a man of soul and humor, and at his
table you will be sure to find an appetite though you had already
fed to surfeit. As Colonel Lee says, you must be wise
enough to take your supper as you take your religion with a
perfect faith, which is never guilty of the impertinence of Peter,
of questioning the cleanness of the meats which Providence has
furnished.”
“But everything's wholesome!” said Greene, with a simplicity
which argued his Rhode Island ignorance of such authorities
as Ude, and Glass, and Savarin.
“Wholesome!” exclaimed Lee — “By Jupiter, General
Greene, I do not know that I have tasted wholesome food
since my last supper with Captain Porgy. I know not why
he has not invited me, since I am very sure no man could have
done more justice to his fare.”
Lee was evidently piqued.
“An omission easily accounted for, Colonel Lee,” answered
Rutledge promptly, “since you had not come in from below,
when the invitations were sent out; no one could say that you
would be in to-night. I take upon myself to say that no one
will be more welcome to his table than yourself.”
“Well, if the taste to do justice to his table is sufficient commendation,
I may safely assert that you are right,” said Lee,
his complacency always making belief easy, in respect to his
own welcome. Marion looked grave, but said nothing. He
knew that Porgy would not, of himself, invite Lee. He had
too seriously displeased the partisans; but Marion was not displeased
that Lee should invite himself, which, in his, as in the
case of Greene, was substantially the fruit of Rutledge's diplomacy.
The latter, as usual, had his own way. The despatch
was sent to Porgy, and Greene's cook was seasonably arrested
in the very act of doing murder upon his edibles. The party
adjourned to meet at the sylvan camp of the swamp-fox.
| CHAPTER XLIV.
PLAN FOR THE CAMPAIGN OF THE DOG-DAYS. The forayers, or, The raid of the dog-days | |