University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.
A VISIT FROM MARION'S MEN.

With dawn, as we have said, good Mother Ford was stirring,
but Nelly slept on till after sunrise; then she waked, started
up, made her toilet hastily, said her prayers, and joined the
old woman cheerfully at the duties of the little household. A
simple breakfast of hominy and milk sufficed, and amply satisfied
the appetites of both. During the day Nelly worked and
weeded in the garden, or took a turn at spinning-wheel or loom,
and wrought industriously, if not as dextrously as she might
have done had her book-learning been less. But working cheerfully,
what she did was well done, and the manner of doing it
sweetened the performance to herself and the old lady. And
so, the day passed in simple toils of the household; the loom,
the garden, and in friendly and loving talk between the two;
the inequality of their years causing no inequality of temper.
They could find companionship for each other, though, like the
pair described by Wordsworth:— “One was seventeen, the
other seventy-two.”

And again came the serious talk of evening; serious, according
with the soberness of the night, the silence, the loneliness
of their homes and fortunes, and the gloomy strife which raged
throughout the country. Serious, according with the mutual
earnestness of their minds, and the deep, wild, spiritual intensity
which worked in that of the younger. Again, till a late hour
did they brood in discourse over those weird topics which both
of them may have loved too well.

Another day of household work followed — another night of

dreamy discourse and revery; and then the wild Arab restlessness
of Nelly Floyd prevailed.

“I must go forth, mother. I must seek after Mat. I feel so
uneasy about him.”

Poor Mat! little did he trouble himself with the cares and
anxieties of his sister — little did he value those sympathies
which kept her restlessly brooding over his fortunes and condition.
He is to be pitied surely; but there is good reason why
he should be flogged also. We may sorrow over the weaknesses
of the offender, but be sure to use the hickory meanwhile.

When Nelly declared her purpose to go forth, Mother Ford,
though regretting the determination, did not argue against it.
She knew that arguments, after all, really tell only upon the
willing mind — the willingness constituting that modicum of
faith which is the inclining ear to wisdom. But, though she
urged nothing to prevent or discourage the girl, she was yet
particularly full in her cautions to her not to trust herself alone
within reach of Jeff Rhodes — not to trust herself in his eyesight,
if it were possible to avoid it. And the girl promised.
Calling up Aggy, and kissing the good mother, she soon had
her beast saddled and bridled, and was cantering off in the
direction of the camp where she had left the faction of Rhodes
on the night of her brother's rescue. Very anxiously did the
ancient dame look after her departing form.

With night she returned, anxious, excited, with a budget full
of news. Rhodes was gone with all his party, leaving no clues
to his flight; and the whole country, along the lower side of the
Cawcaw, was full of soldiers. Orangeburg was full of soldiers —
the British. The great Lord Rawdon was there, with his three
thousand men; and, hovering about like vultures, greedy for
the prey, were the wild forayers of Marion and Sumter, and the
trim legion of Lee, and the rough war-dogs of a score of other
“captains, and colonels, and men-at-arms,” and a strong array
of the continentals under Greene.

Nelly Floyd was quite a woodman, and knew “how to work
a traverse” with any scout in the two armies. She had picked
her way from point to point, until she gathered up all the intelligence
which we here sum up in a paragraph; to say nothing

of a thousand details besides, which, interesting enough to good
Mother Ford, will hardly compensate our readers.

Here was a new subject to keep the pair wakeful again that
night. War and its glories; war and its miseries! Of course,
a battle was confidently expected: and how many poor, weeping
mothers were to be left childless; how many wives made
widows; how many homes made desolate; how many noble
spirits violently freed, in storm, and wrath, and torture, from
the goodly frames of beautiful mortality in which they now
walk the earth in strength and authority! “How few shall
part... where many meet!” And with whom is the triumph
to remain? And what is to follow to the poor country, already
filled with widows and orphans, from that threatened shock of
battle?

It was of such topics that these two feeble women conversed
that night, expecting every moment to hear the cannon.

But, ever and anon, Nelly wound up her meditations with the
one burden of her individual fear.

“And where, oh, where can Mat be all this while?”

“Well, ef he's with Jeff Rhodes, Nelly, you may be sure he
ain't in the ranks of the red-coats or the blue. Jeff Rhodes is a
robber and a murderer, not a fighting sodger. He valleys his carcass
too well to resk anything. He's only good for skulking and
shooting down onsuspecting travellers from behind the bush.”

“I shouldn't so much mind it, mother, if Mat was in the
army.”

“No, indeed! I wish I had twenty sons to march up to the
Swamp-Fox. Is it death that's the danger? Why, Nelly,
that's every human man's danger — what every child that's born
has to ondergo; and the question is about the way one dies —
whether he dies decently, like a human Christian, doing open,
broad-daylight actions, that he ain't ashamed or afraid of, or
dying in a ditch, like a hog, or in the halter, like a dog! It's
the difference in the dying, a'ter all, Nelly, that makes the
danger. Ef I had a son, I'd see him carried to the grave without
so much as whimpering, ef so be his cappin could say —
`Mother Ford, your boy did his duty, like a free-born white
man, and took his wounds all of 'em in front, fighting for his
country's sile!' Oh, Nelly, I'd ha' gone on my knees to Mat,

onnateral as 'twould be for an old woman like me to crook a
j'int to a boy like that, ef so be I could ha' got him to j'ine
Thompson's rigiment, when they was a-recruiting about here in
the beginning of the war. But 'twas even jest then that Nat
Rhodes married Molly Floyd, and so they all got hold of poor
Mat together, and he'll hear to nothing now that either you or
I can say.”

“Oh, mother, if it should happen to him as I have seen!—”

“Hev' you seen that thing agin to-day?”

“No, not to-day.”

“It's in your mind only. It's bekaise you think so much
about it. Weed it out. Jest stay here, working with me, or
not working — jest as you please — though work's the first
way to begin a-saving sinners, and it's best for every heart and
human ef they will work. But never mind the work: jest you
stay with the old woman, Nelly; and let them that won't stay
to hear the prayers of sister and friend, go where — the Lord
will provide as he pleases! He'll be sure to do his will, a'ter
all!”

Nelly shook her head mournfully.

“Well, you'll hev' to stay ontil the country's clear of these
sodgers.”

“Hark, mother! do you hear? It is the tramp of horsemen,
riding briskly.”

“Ah, you've got mighty keen young ears! I don't hear
nothing.”

“Now! don't you hear them now?”

“Ef you tell me, I reckon I will hear a'ter a while. But —
sure enough, Nelly, I do hear.”

“Shall I throw water on the fire, mother?”

“For what, Nelly? What hev' we to fear? That would be
a needcessity, prehaps, in Jeff Rhodes's camp; but here, Nelly,
look at the plunder that's to be had — to say nothing of the old
woman's curses, kivered up in prayers! No! — let the lightwood
blaze!”

And, with the words, she threw a fresh brand into the fire.

In another moment, the hovel was surrounded by armed
troopers, and a firm but not violent rapping at the door demanded
that it should be opened.

The old woman threw it wide instantly, and a group of troopers,
three or four, entered. Two of these were officers. The
lightwood blaze showed them distinctly to the eye in every
lineament. It revealed to them, at the same time, the tall, erect
form of the aged woman, with an eye as calm as if the soul which
it represented never entertained one fearful emotion. The
young girl stood a little behind her, but on one side, so that she
was visible to the officers at the same time. They removed
their caps as they discovered the two females.

“Marion's men!” quoth the old woman, sotto voce, to Nelly.
She knew the uniform.

The officers did not delay to make their business known.

“I am an intruder, madam,” said the person in command,
“but I would not be an offender; and I must plead a very
anxious duty in justification of myself for thus trespassing upon
your privacy at this unseasonable hour.”

“Well, the sight of Marion's men is always a welcome one to
the eyes of Jane Ford, gentlemen. I'm very glad to see you.
Won't you set down? This is my adopted darter, Ellen Floyd,
gentlemen. Mout I hev' the pleasure, sir, of knowing your
name?”

“My name is Sinclair, madam. This gentleman is Captain
St. Julien, of the brigade of General Marion.”

“I've hearn of you both, I reckon. But won't you set down,
gentlemen?”

The two officers readily took the seats indicated, one of them
waving his hand to the two privates who had followed them
into the house, who took the hint, and immediately withdrew.

“I've hearn of you both, I reckon,” resumed the old lady.
“Air you the son of old Colonel Sinclair — the one that they
calls `the baron' — that lives below somewhar?”

“I have that honor, Mrs. Ford.”

“Well, I seed him once, the time of Grant and Middleton, in
the Cherokee war. I seed them mustering on the Congarees.
I'm an old woman, gentlemen, and hev' seen enough of wars
and rumors of wars, by this time. But the sodgers of liberty,
fighting for the sile, air always welcome to these old eyes.”

“We thank you for the compliment,” said Colonel Sinclair;
“and only regret that your sentiments, Mrs. Ford, are not those

of all the free-souled women of the country. Had they been,
my dear madam, the war would have ceased long before it ever
penetrated our little state.”

“Well, I reckon it will cease afore long, and in a way to
make you young sodgers of liberty proud of it. I'm mighty
glad to know that Gineral Marion has so many fine officers. I
only wish I had a dozen sons to send with you.”

“I wish you had fifty, my dear madam, all warmed with
your own noble sentiments. But, however pleased to converse
with you, I must not suffer myself to trespass. I am now on a
mission of great uneasiness and apprehension — in search of
two ladies, who were left in the neighborhood of the old Rhodes
mill, in the Cawcaw swamp, two days ago, by a detachment of
my command, while it encountered a body of the Florida refugees.
The refugees were dispersed; but when our troop returned
to seek for the carriage with the ladies, it was gone, and
we have not yet been able to discover any traces of their route.
Finding an old neighborhood road out in this direction, with
marks of wheels, we have pursued it in search, and it brought
us here. Our purpose is simply to know if you can give us any
information in respect to these ladies. Have they been here —
have you seen or heard of them?”

We are in possession of facts of which neither Mother Ford
nor Nelly Floyd had any knowledge, and their mutual wonder
soon satisfied the visiters that their inquiry was vain in this
quarter. They received the unsatisfactory answers with drooping
heads and anguished faces.

They hurried their departure. They had nothing more to
hear. But their leavetaking, like their approach, was considerate
and respectful; and, when they had gone a few minutes
from the hut, a dragoon returned from the troop — now mustered
without the enclosure — and, placing a sack in a corner
of the hovel, said that it had been sent by Colonel Sinclair for
Mrs. Ford. The sack contained meal, bacon, and potatoes.

A chapter might be written, of great and instructive interest,
elucidating the peculiarity of the warfare of the Revolution, as
conducted by the southern partisans. Historians tell you that
the men of Marion and Sumter went and came at pleasure. The
practice was inseparable from the necessities of the country.

The soldiers were all farmers, interested necessarily in the domestic
progress, and required to see, at certain periods, to their
families and agricultural interests — to the season of planting,
and of harvest, especially — to the proper regulation of the labor
of herds of half-savage Africans, new to the country, ignorant
of the work required at their hands, and only half subordinated
to authority. When, too, it is understood that the country was
perpetually traversed by foroign refugees, having no families, no
responsibilities to society, and seeking plunder only, it will not
be thought surprising if the partisans, having done a severe
duty of three months at a spell, found it necessary to hurry
home to see that the homestead was kept in order, and made as
secure and prosperous as it was possible to be. The result was,
that the agriculture of the country was measurably sustained,
even while the war raged in every section. It was from the
fertile fields of Carolina that the British and American armies,
the loyalists and the whigs, in the two Carolinas and Georgia,
were chiefly fed during the last three years of the war. The
partisans, in this way, were enabled to share their food with
the destitute and suffering; and rarely did they leave camp
without carrying with them some creature-comforts with which
they could make glad, while passing, the wretched widow and
her famishing flock, in some lonely habitations. It was thus
that Sinclair was enabled to tender to Mother Ford the little
sack of supplies, which the old woman as gratefully accepted.

“They're the true sons of the sile, Nelly. Oh! Lord, that
we had a million jest like 'em. Oh! Nelly, if that foolish
brother of your'n, was only in that squad, under them officers!
Then, it mout be that he would be in danger of death, but
there wouldn't be any shame in it, Nelly.”

Poor Nelly sighed pitifully. She had no other answer.

“And to think how they drooped, both the officers, when I
could tell 'em nothing of them ladies! It's mighty curious too,
Nelly, that they should hev' disappeared jest about Rhodes's
mill — below it, he said, about a mile or so! Why, Nelly, that
was jest about the place where old Rhodes had his camp, a'ter
you got Mat out of Lem Watkins' claws.”

“Yes!” said the girl faintly.

“And the troopers fit with Lem Watkins, jest the day a'ter,

and driv' 'em across the swamp! Well, old Rhodes saw it all,
Nelly.”

Nelly admitted the probability.

“And he's carried off the carriage and the two poor ladies,
all for plundering; and, oh! Lord forgive the thought, but likely
for murdering too!”

“Oh! no! no! do not say it, mother: do not say it! Mat
would never consent to any murder!”

“Child, child! There's few people that will rob on the highway
that won't murder on the highway! That old villain
Rhodes will do it — and he'll egg Mat on till he's done the deed
afore he knows what he's a-doing.”

“Mother, mother, I must go,” cried the girl passionately.
“I must go!”

“Go? — Where?”

“To seek after these ladies — to seek after Mat — to bring
him away from Rhodes — to save him, and the ladies if I can.”

“You don't budge a peg to-night, child,” answered the old
woman firmly. “The troopers are about — Marion's men — and
old Rhodes will lie close. He knows them too well. No! let
the night pass, and see what good counsels will come to you from
God to-night. Git the good book, Nelly, and read me something
from its blessed pages.”

The girl rose up meekly from the couch on which she had
thrown herself, with a sobbing moan, a moment before; sat
down on the floor beside the fire, with the volume in her lap,
and read several chapters from the New Testament: the old
woman occasionally flinging a fresh brand upon the blaze, but
in no other way disturbing the progress of the reader.

“The Lord be praised for all his marcies. We gits no religion
now except what he gives us, and I feel jest as good a'ter
hearing you read out of that blessed book, as ef I had been a
listening to the best sarment in the world. He's fed us to-night
both mouth and ears. In the heart and in the body. It's a
blessing, I feel, to see them offsers and men of Marion to-night.
I wish there was a hundred million of 'em. May the Lord be
with them, and help fight their battles. Let's pray now, Nelly.
I feel all over softened for prayer.”

They knelt and prayed together — the Lord's prayer only —

but they mused other unspoken adjurations for which neither
had any proper form in words.

And then they slept, and the shadow of God rested on the
house, and the hours swept by peacefully over it, and the two
woke refreshed at sunrise.— But Nelly's meditations had not
changed her purpose. The moment breakfast was over, she
called up Aggy, and rode forth upon her scouting expedition.