The Life of General Francis Marion [49]
by all means to send Marion. Marion was accordingly sent; but with orders, as we have seen, to destroy, on his route, all the boats on the Santee river, lest lord Cornwallis should make his escape. At the time of leaving general Gates, Marion had but ten men with him; but on reaching Santee, we were joined by major John James, with about twenty gallant gentlemen volunteers, making his whole force about thirty.
A slender force, to be sure, to oppose to the tremendous powers which Marion had to encounter! But, "the Lord is king, the victory is his!" and when he pleases to give it to an oppressed people, he can make the few and feeble overcome the many and mighty.
As the brave major James may perhaps be mentioned no more in this history, I must gratify the reader by informing him, that the noble major lost nothing by his attachment to duty and the rights of man. He lived to see Cornwallis, Tarleton, and Rawdon, laid as low as the insolent Ardeisoff; and after enjoying many years of sweet repose, under the pleasant shade of peace and plenty, he sunk gently to rest. But though now fallen asleep, he still lives in his country's gratitude, and in the virtues of his son, who fills one of the highest places in the judiciary of his native state.
Chapter 14.
Carolina apparently lost -- Marion almost alone keeps the field -- begins to figure -- surprises a strong British party at Nelson's old field -- scourges the tories at Black Mingo -- again smites them hip and thigh on Pedee.
The history of the American Revolution is a history of miracles, all bearing, like sunbeams, on this heavenly fiat: "America shall be free!"
Some of our chimney-corner philosophers can hardly believe, when they read of Samson making such a smash among the Philistines with the jawbone of an ass. Then how will they believe what I am going to tell them of Marion? How will they believe that, at a time when the British had completely overrun South Carolina; their headquarters at Charleston, a victorious army at Camden; strong garrisons at Georgetown and Jacksonborough, with swarms of thievish and bloody minded tories, filling up all between; and the spirits of the poor whigs so completely cowed, that they were fairly knocked under to the civil and military yoke of the British, who, I ask again, will believe, that in this desperate state of things, one little, swarthy, French-phizzed Carolinian, with only thirty of his ragged countrymen, issuing out of the swamps, should have dared to turn his horse's head towards this all conquering foe?
Well, Marion was that man. He it was, who, with his feeble force, dared to dash up at once to Nelson's ferry, on the great war path between the British armies at Charleston and Camden.
"Now, my gallant friends," said he, at sight of the road, and with a face burning for battle, "now look sharp! here are the British wagon tracks, with the sand still falling in! and here are the steps of their troops passing and repassing. We shall not long be idle here!"
And so it turned out. For scarcely had we reached our hiding place in the swamp, before in came our scouts at half speed, stating that a British guard, with a world of American prisoners, were on their march for Charleston.
"How many prisoners do you suppose there were?" said Marion.
"Near two hundred," replied the scouts.
"And what do you imagine was the number of the British guard?"
"Why, sir, we counted about ninety."
"Ninety!" said Marion with a smile; "ninety! Well, that will do. And now, gentlemen, if you will only stand by me, I've a good hope that we thirty will have those ninety by to-morrow's sunrise."
We told him to lead on, for that we were resolved to die by his side.
Soon as the dusky night came on, we went down to the ferry, and passing for a party of good loyalists, we easily got set over. The enemy, with their prisoners, having just effected the passage of the river as the sun went down, halted at the first tavern, generally called "the Blue House", where the officers ordered supper. In
A slender force, to be sure, to oppose to the tremendous powers which Marion had to encounter! But, "the Lord is king, the victory is his!" and when he pleases to give it to an oppressed people, he can make the few and feeble overcome the many and mighty.
As the brave major James may perhaps be mentioned no more in this history, I must gratify the reader by informing him, that the noble major lost nothing by his attachment to duty and the rights of man. He lived to see Cornwallis, Tarleton, and Rawdon, laid as low as the insolent Ardeisoff; and after enjoying many years of sweet repose, under the pleasant shade of peace and plenty, he sunk gently to rest. But though now fallen asleep, he still lives in his country's gratitude, and in the virtues of his son, who fills one of the highest places in the judiciary of his native state.
Chapter 14.
Carolina apparently lost -- Marion almost alone keeps the field -- begins to figure -- surprises a strong British party at Nelson's old field -- scourges the tories at Black Mingo -- again smites them hip and thigh on Pedee.
The history of the American Revolution is a history of miracles, all bearing, like sunbeams, on this heavenly fiat: "America shall be free!"
Some of our chimney-corner philosophers can hardly believe, when they read of Samson making such a smash among the Philistines with the jawbone of an ass. Then how will they believe what I am going to tell them of Marion? How will they believe that, at a time when the British had completely overrun South Carolina; their headquarters at Charleston, a victorious army at Camden; strong garrisons at Georgetown and Jacksonborough, with swarms of thievish and bloody minded tories, filling up all between; and the spirits of the poor whigs so completely cowed, that they were fairly knocked under to the civil and military yoke of the British, who, I ask again, will believe, that in this desperate state of things, one little, swarthy, French-phizzed Carolinian, with only thirty of his ragged countrymen, issuing out of the swamps, should have dared to turn his horse's head towards this all conquering foe?
Well, Marion was that man. He it was, who, with his feeble force, dared to dash up at once to Nelson's ferry, on the great war path between the British armies at Charleston and Camden.
"Now, my gallant friends," said he, at sight of the road, and with a face burning for battle, "now look sharp! here are the British wagon tracks, with the sand still falling in! and here are the steps of their troops passing and repassing. We shall not long be idle here!"
And so it turned out. For scarcely had we reached our hiding place in the swamp, before in came our scouts at half speed, stating that a British guard, with a world of American prisoners, were on their march for Charleston.
"How many prisoners do you suppose there were?" said Marion.
"Near two hundred," replied the scouts.
"And what do you imagine was the number of the British guard?"
"Why, sir, we counted about ninety."
"Ninety!" said Marion with a smile; "ninety! Well, that will do. And now, gentlemen, if you will only stand by me, I've a good hope that we thirty will have those ninety by to-morrow's sunrise."
We told him to lead on, for that we were resolved to die by his side.
Soon as the dusky night came on, we went down to the ferry, and passing for a party of good loyalists, we easily got set over. The enemy, with their prisoners, having just effected the passage of the river as the sun went down, halted at the first tavern, generally called "the Blue House", where the officers ordered supper. In