The Life of General Francis Marion [46]
his ghastly wounds forgotten. The citizens of Camden have lately enclosed his grave, and placed on it handsome marble, with an epitaph gratefully descriptive of his VIRTUES and SERVICES, that the people of future days may, like Washington, heave the sigh when they read of "the generous stranger who came from a distant land to fight their battles, and to water, with his blood, the tree of their liberties."
Fair Camden's plains his glorious dust inhume, Where annual Ceres shades her hero's tomb.
Chapter 13.
Marion and the author very busy in destroying the rice-makers' boats on Santee -- first got the news of the defeat of our army, and death of the brave De Kalb -- Marion addresses his followers -- their gallant reply.
Marion and myself, as yet ignorant of the fate of the army, were on the waters of the Santee, very busily executing our boat-burning orders. Not content with destroying the common scows and flats of the ferries, we went on to sweep the river of every skiff and canoe that we could lay hands on; nay, had the harmless wonkopkins been able to ferry an Englishman over the river, we should certainly have declared war and hurled our firebrands among them.
The reader may be sure we gained no good will by our zeal in this affair; for it was a serious thing to the planters: and their wrath waxed exceedingly hot against us. Among that fleet of boats and flats that perished by our firebrands or hatchets, there were two that belonged to my excellent old uncle, colonel E. Horry. The old gentleman could hardly believe his negroes, when they told him that we were destroying his boats. However, to be satisfied of the matter, he mounted his horse, and galloped down to the river to see. We had completely done for his scow, and were just giving the finishing blows to his boat as he hove in sight; whereupon, clapping whip and spur to his horse, he came on as hard as he could drive. Soon as he was within hailing distance of an ordinary speaking trumpet, he began to bawl -- "Hold! hold! for God's sake hold!"
Then dashing up, with cheeks red as fire coals, and his mouth all in a lather, he roared out, "Why, what? what? what are you about here?"
"We are only trying to kidnap the British, uncle," said I.
"Kidnap the d---l," he replied.
Then looking around, and seeing how completely we had shivered his fine new boat and scow, he ripped out again -- "Well! here is a pretty spot of work! a pretty spot of work! A brand new scow and boat, that cost me, only last spring, three hundred dollars! every farthing of it! and here now all cut to smash! ruined! not worth a chew of tobacco! why! did mortal flesh ever see the like of this? Breaking up our boats! why, how are we to harvest our rice?"
"Uncle," said I, "you had better think less of harvesting your rice, and more of catching the muskrats," meaning the British.
Here, darting at me an eye of inexpressible astonishment and rage, he exclaimed -- "Why, certainly the d---l is in the young man! catch the British? Why, have you not heard that the British are carrying every thing before them; have broke up our army; cut the regulars to pieces; scattered the militia; and chased general Gates to Jericho, and to the d---l for what I care?"
"God forbid!" said Marion.
"Nay, that is past praying for," replied my uncle, "and if you had any interest in heaven, you ought to have made it sooner. It is too late now."
"Great God!" returned Marion; "and so our army is lost!"
"Yes," continued my uncle; "lost, as sure as a gun: and that is not all; for De Kalb is killed; Sumter surprised and cut to pieces; and Charleston illuminated every night for joy."
We could neither of us utter a word.
Presently my uncle, casting a searching eye around on our men, about thirty in number, asked where our troops were.
I told him those were all the troops we had.
I thought the good old gentleman would have gone into fits. He rolled up his eyes to heaven; smacked his hands together, and bringing them by a sudden jerk to his breast, with
Fair Camden's plains his glorious dust inhume, Where annual Ceres shades her hero's tomb.
Chapter 13.
Marion and the author very busy in destroying the rice-makers' boats on Santee -- first got the news of the defeat of our army, and death of the brave De Kalb -- Marion addresses his followers -- their gallant reply.
Marion and myself, as yet ignorant of the fate of the army, were on the waters of the Santee, very busily executing our boat-burning orders. Not content with destroying the common scows and flats of the ferries, we went on to sweep the river of every skiff and canoe that we could lay hands on; nay, had the harmless wonkopkins been able to ferry an Englishman over the river, we should certainly have declared war and hurled our firebrands among them.
The reader may be sure we gained no good will by our zeal in this affair; for it was a serious thing to the planters: and their wrath waxed exceedingly hot against us. Among that fleet of boats and flats that perished by our firebrands or hatchets, there were two that belonged to my excellent old uncle, colonel E. Horry. The old gentleman could hardly believe his negroes, when they told him that we were destroying his boats. However, to be satisfied of the matter, he mounted his horse, and galloped down to the river to see. We had completely done for his scow, and were just giving the finishing blows to his boat as he hove in sight; whereupon, clapping whip and spur to his horse, he came on as hard as he could drive. Soon as he was within hailing distance of an ordinary speaking trumpet, he began to bawl -- "Hold! hold! for God's sake hold!"
Then dashing up, with cheeks red as fire coals, and his mouth all in a lather, he roared out, "Why, what? what? what are you about here?"
"We are only trying to kidnap the British, uncle," said I.
"Kidnap the d---l," he replied.
Then looking around, and seeing how completely we had shivered his fine new boat and scow, he ripped out again -- "Well! here is a pretty spot of work! a pretty spot of work! A brand new scow and boat, that cost me, only last spring, three hundred dollars! every farthing of it! and here now all cut to smash! ruined! not worth a chew of tobacco! why! did mortal flesh ever see the like of this? Breaking up our boats! why, how are we to harvest our rice?"
"Uncle," said I, "you had better think less of harvesting your rice, and more of catching the muskrats," meaning the British.
Here, darting at me an eye of inexpressible astonishment and rage, he exclaimed -- "Why, certainly the d---l is in the young man! catch the British? Why, have you not heard that the British are carrying every thing before them; have broke up our army; cut the regulars to pieces; scattered the militia; and chased general Gates to Jericho, and to the d---l for what I care?"
"God forbid!" said Marion.
"Nay, that is past praying for," replied my uncle, "and if you had any interest in heaven, you ought to have made it sooner. It is too late now."
"Great God!" returned Marion; "and so our army is lost!"
"Yes," continued my uncle; "lost, as sure as a gun: and that is not all; for De Kalb is killed; Sumter surprised and cut to pieces; and Charleston illuminated every night for joy."
We could neither of us utter a word.
Presently my uncle, casting a searching eye around on our men, about thirty in number, asked where our troops were.
I told him those were all the troops we had.
I thought the good old gentleman would have gone into fits. He rolled up his eyes to heaven; smacked his hands together, and bringing them by a sudden jerk to his breast, with