The Life of General Francis Marion [7]
that though not formidable as soldiers, they were very amiable as citizens. They bought farms -- proved their oxen -- married wives -- multiplied good children, and thus, very unlike our niggardly bachelors, contributed a liberal and laudable part to the population, strength, and glory of their country. God, I pray heartily, take kind notice of all such; and grant, that having thus done his will in this world, they may partake of his glory in the next.
Chapter 2.
Marion's first appearance -- a humble cultivator of the earth -- the great Cherokee war of 1761 comes on -- volunteers his services to his country -- is appointed a first lieutenant in the provincial line -- commands a forlorn hope -- narrowly escapes with his life -- the Anglo-American and the Indian forces engaged -- bloody battle -- the Indians defeated -- their country laid waste -- peace made -- Marion retires.
Among the Mohawks of Sparta, it was a constant practice on the birth of a male infant, to set a military granny to examine him, as a butcher would a veal for the market, and if he were found any ways puny, he was presently thrown into a horse pond with as little ceremony as a blind puppy. Had such been the order of the day in 1732, Carolina would never have boasted a Marion; for I have it from good authority, that this great soldier, at his birth, was not larger than a New England lobster, and might easily enough have been put into a quart pot. This puny appearance continued with him till the age of twelve, when it was removed by the following extraordinary providence.
On a trip to the West Indies, which his friends put him upon for his health's sake, the little schooner in which he was embarked was suddenly attacked by some monstrous fish, probably a thorn-back whale, who gave it such a terrible stroke with his tail as started a plank. The frightened crew flew to their pumps, but in vain; for the briny flood rushed with such fury into their vessel, that they were glad to quit her, and tumble as fast as they could into their little jolly boat. The event showed that this was as but a leap "out of the frying pan into the fire"; for their schooner went down so suddenly as not to give them time to take a mouthful of food with them, not even so much as a brown biscuit or a pint of water. After three wretched days of feverish hunger and thirst, they agreed to kill a little cabin dog who had swam to them from the schooner just before she sunk. On his raw flesh they feasted without restraint; but the blood they preserved with more economy, to cool their parched lips. In a few days, however, their own blood, for lack of cooling food, became so fiery hot as to scald their brain to frenzy. About the tenth day the captain and mate leaped overboard, raving mad; and the day following the two remaining seamen expired in the bottom of the boat, piteously crying to the last for WATER! WATER! God of his mercy forgive me, who have so often drank of that sweet beverage without grateful acknowledgments! Scarcely was this melancholy scene concluded before a vessel hove in sight, standing directly for the boat, as if purposely sent to save the child that was tossing in it on the gloomy waves.
Little Marion was so weak that he could not stir hand or foot to climb up the side of the vessel. The captain, however, soon had him on board; and by means of chocolate and turtle broth, sparingly given him at first, recruited him so fast, that, by the time he reached his native shores, he was in much better health than ever. So that on his return to his friends, it was found, as is often the case, that what was at first looked on as a great misfortune, had proved a very noble blessing. His constitution seemed renewed, his frame commenced a second and rapid growth; while his cheeks, quitting their pale suet-colored cast, assumed a bright and healthy olive. According to the best accounts that I have been able to procure, Marion never thought of another trip to sea, but continued in his native parish, in that most independent and happy of
Chapter 2.
Marion's first appearance -- a humble cultivator of the earth -- the great Cherokee war of 1761 comes on -- volunteers his services to his country -- is appointed a first lieutenant in the provincial line -- commands a forlorn hope -- narrowly escapes with his life -- the Anglo-American and the Indian forces engaged -- bloody battle -- the Indians defeated -- their country laid waste -- peace made -- Marion retires.
Among the Mohawks of Sparta, it was a constant practice on the birth of a male infant, to set a military granny to examine him, as a butcher would a veal for the market, and if he were found any ways puny, he was presently thrown into a horse pond with as little ceremony as a blind puppy. Had such been the order of the day in 1732, Carolina would never have boasted a Marion; for I have it from good authority, that this great soldier, at his birth, was not larger than a New England lobster, and might easily enough have been put into a quart pot. This puny appearance continued with him till the age of twelve, when it was removed by the following extraordinary providence.
On a trip to the West Indies, which his friends put him upon for his health's sake, the little schooner in which he was embarked was suddenly attacked by some monstrous fish, probably a thorn-back whale, who gave it such a terrible stroke with his tail as started a plank. The frightened crew flew to their pumps, but in vain; for the briny flood rushed with such fury into their vessel, that they were glad to quit her, and tumble as fast as they could into their little jolly boat. The event showed that this was as but a leap "out of the frying pan into the fire"; for their schooner went down so suddenly as not to give them time to take a mouthful of food with them, not even so much as a brown biscuit or a pint of water. After three wretched days of feverish hunger and thirst, they agreed to kill a little cabin dog who had swam to them from the schooner just before she sunk. On his raw flesh they feasted without restraint; but the blood they preserved with more economy, to cool their parched lips. In a few days, however, their own blood, for lack of cooling food, became so fiery hot as to scald their brain to frenzy. About the tenth day the captain and mate leaped overboard, raving mad; and the day following the two remaining seamen expired in the bottom of the boat, piteously crying to the last for WATER! WATER! God of his mercy forgive me, who have so often drank of that sweet beverage without grateful acknowledgments! Scarcely was this melancholy scene concluded before a vessel hove in sight, standing directly for the boat, as if purposely sent to save the child that was tossing in it on the gloomy waves.
Little Marion was so weak that he could not stir hand or foot to climb up the side of the vessel. The captain, however, soon had him on board; and by means of chocolate and turtle broth, sparingly given him at first, recruited him so fast, that, by the time he reached his native shores, he was in much better health than ever. So that on his return to his friends, it was found, as is often the case, that what was at first looked on as a great misfortune, had proved a very noble blessing. His constitution seemed renewed, his frame commenced a second and rapid growth; while his cheeks, quitting their pale suet-colored cast, assumed a bright and healthy olive. According to the best accounts that I have been able to procure, Marion never thought of another trip to sea, but continued in his native parish, in that most independent and happy of