BUTLER'S DIFFICULTIES INCREASE.--INNIS FINDS OCCASION TO THINK OF THE
ADAGE--"THERE'S MANY A SLIP BETWIXT THE CUP AND THE LIP."
When Arthur Butler was conducted back to his place of confinement, after
his trial, orders were given that no one should be allowed to approach
him, except the officer to whom was intrusted his safe custody. The
intercourse of this person with him was short; and concerned only with
the scant accommodation which his condition required. He was, therefore,
deprived of all chance of becoming acquainted with the extraordinary
events that had led to his present respite from death. In the
interrogations that had, during the first moments of excitement, been
put to him, in regard to the letter, he was not told its import; from
what quarter it had come; nor how it affected his fate. He only knew, by
the result, that it had suspended the purpose of his immediate
execution; and he saw that it had produced great agitation at
head-quarters. He found, moreover, that this, or some other cause, had
engendered a degree of exasperation against him, that showed itself in
the retrenchment of his comforts, and in the augmented rigor of his
confinement.
Agitated with a thousand doubts, his mind was too busy to permit him to
close his eyes during the night that followed; and in this wakeful
suspense he could sometimes hear, amongst the occasional ramblers who
passed under his window, an allusion, in their conversation, to a
victory gained over the royal troops. Coupling this with the name of
Sumpter, which was now and then uttered with some adjective of
disparagement, he conjectured that Horse Shoe had probably fallen in
with that partisan, and was, peradventure, leading him to this vicinity.
But this conclusion was combated by the fact that there seemed to be no
alarm in the camp, nor any preparations on foot either for instant
battle or retreat. Then the letter--that was a mystery altogether
impenetrable. There was only one point upon which his mind could rest
with satisfaction: of that he was sure--Horse Shoe was certainly at the
bottom of the scheme, and was active in his behalf.
The whole of the next day passed over in the same state of uncertainty.
It was observed by Butler, with some stress upon the circumstance, that
Captain St. Jermyn, who had heretofore evinced a disposition to make
himself busy in his behalf, had absented himself ever since the trial;
and he thus felt himself cut off from the slightest exhibition of
sympathy on the part of a single individual in the multitude of fellow
beings near him. Indeed, there were various indications of a general
personal ill-will against him. The house, in which he was confined, was
so constructed that he could frequently hear such expressions, in the
conferences of those who inhabited the rooms below stairs, as were
uttered above the lower key of conversation, and these boded him no
good. Once, during the day, Colonel Innis visited him. This officer's
countenance was severe, and indicated anger. His purpose was to extort
something from the prisoner in reference to his supposed knowledge of
the course of operations of Sumpter, from whose camp Innis did not doubt
this letter regarding St. Jermyn had come. He spoke in a short, quick,
and peremptory tone:
"It may be well for you," he said, "that your friends do not too rashly
brave my authority. Let me advise you to warn them that others may fall
into our hands; and that if the ensign be not delivered up, there may be
a dreadful retaliation."
"I know not, sir, of what or whom you speak," replied Butler; "and it is
due to my honor to say, that I will not be induced, for the sake of
saving my life, to interfere with any operations which the soldiers of
Congress may have undertaken in the cause of the country. In this
sentiment I admonish Colonel Innis that I desire to be put in possession
of no facts from him that may be communicated under such an expectation.
And having made this determination known to you, I will add to it that,
from the same motives, I will answer no questions you can propose to me.
You may spare yourself, therefore, the useless labor of this visit. My
life is in your hands, and I have already experienced with what justice
and clemency you will use your power when you dare."
"A more humble tone," said Innis, with a bitter smile, "I think would
better suit your circumstances." And with this remark the commandant
haughtily walked out of the apartment.
The next morning, whilst Butler was taking his breakfast, which had been
brought to him by one of the soldiers of the guard, he heard a loud
cheering from the troops that at that hour were on parade in the plain.
This was followed by the discharge of a _feu de joie_ from the whole
line, and a flourish of drums and trumpets.
"What is that?" he inquired eagerly of the soldier, who, forgetful, in
the excitement of the moment, of the order to restrain his intercourse
with the prisoner, answered--
"They have just got the news from Camden: two days ago Cornwallis
defeated Gates, and cut his army to pieces. The troops are rejoicing for
the victory, and have just had the despatches read."
Butler heaved a deep sigh, as he said, "Then all is lost, and liberty is
but a name! I feared it; God knows, I feared it."
The soldier was recalled to his duty by the sentinel at the door, and
Butler was again left alone.
This was a day of crowding events. The tidings of the battle of Camden,
gained on the sixteenth, and which had early this morning reached Innis,
threw a spirit of the highest exultation into the camp. The event was
considered decisive of the fate of the rebel power; and the most
extravagant anticipations were indulged by the loyalists, in regard to
the complete subjugation of the Whigs of the southern provinces. The
work of confiscation was to be carried out to the most bitter extreme,
and the adherents of the royal government were to grow rich upon the
spoils of victory. The soldiers of Innis were permitted to give way to
uncontrolled revelry; and, from the first promulgation of the news, this
became a day devoted to rejoicings. Innis himself looked upon the
victory at Camden with more satisfaction, as it gave him reason to
believe that the sentence pronounced against Butler might be executed,
without fear of vengeance threatened against the Ensign St. Jermyn. He
was, however, exceedingly anxious to see this young officer released
from the hands of the enemy; and had determined to respect the threat
as long as there was any doubt that it might be performed. The personal
consideration of Captain St. Jermyn, his station as an officer of
importance, and, above all, the great influence of his family, in the
esteem of the royal leaders, made it an object of deep concern to Innis
to save the ensign, by the most scrupulous regard to his present
difficulties. His power to do so seemed to be much increased by the late
victory.
In the afternoon of the same day, further rumors were brought to Innis's
camp, importing that Sumpter had been attacked on that morning upon the
Catawba, by Tarleton, and completely routed. The prisoners and baggage,
taken on the fifteenth, had been regained, and Sumpter was flying with
the scattered remnant of his troops towards North Carolina. At the same
time an order was brought to Innis to break up his camp and move
northwards. This only added to the shouts and rejoicings of the troops,
and drove them into deeper excesses. The war, they thought, was coming
rapidly to an end, and they already anticipated this conclusion, by
throwing off the irksomeness of military restraint. The officers were
gathered into gossiping and convivial circles; and laughed, in
unrestrained feelings of triumph, at the posture of affairs. The private
soldiers, on their part, imitated their leaders, and formed themselves
into knots and groups, where they caroused over their cups, danced, and
sang. All was frolic and merriment.
In the midst of this festivity, a portion of Connelly's troopers, who
had now been absent forty-eight hours, arrived, and made an immediate
report to Innis. The purport of this was, that they had found Ensign St.
Jermyn in the possession of a detachment of Whig cavalry near the
Saluda: as soon as they descried him, which they did, some three hundred
paces distant, knowing him by his scarlet uniform, they prepared to
attack this party of Whigs; but the ensign perceiving his friends at
hand, had already, by a brave effort, disentangled himself from his
keepers, and taken off into the open field. The scouts, therefore,
instead of attacking the Whigs, directed all their attention to secure
the ensign's retreat, by holding themselves ready to check the pursuit:
their manoeuvre had been successful, and the prisoner was free.
"And is now with you in the camp, my brave fellows?" said Innis, with
great exultation.
"Not yet," replied the sergeant of the squad. "He is upon the road, and
will, no doubt, soon be here. We have not seen him since his escape.
Whilst we hung back, with a view to favor his retreat, we fell in with a
party that we took to be the escort that had made him prisoner; and as
they outnumbered us, we thought it prudent to decline a skirmish with
them. So we filed off and made our way back to head quarters. The ensign
must have been a good mile ahead of us, and as the road is hard to find,
he may have lost his way. But this is certain, we saw him clear of the
Whigs, with his horse's head turned towards this camp."
"Thank you, good friends," said Innis; "you have performed your duty
handsomely. Go to your comrades; they have news for you, and an extra
allowance to-day. Faith, Ker, this is a day for settling old accounts,"
he continued, as he turned and addressed an officer by his side. "Gates
beaten, Sumpter beaten, and Ensign St. Jermyn delivered from captivity!
That looks well! And now I have another account, which shall be settled
on the nail. Stirring times, Captain St. Jermyn. I congratulate you, my
friend, on your brother's safety, and mean to signalize the event as it
deserves. Major Frazer, bring out your prisoner, and let him die the
death punctually at sundown--at sundown, to the minute, major. We must
get that job off our hands. To-morrow, my friends, we shall move towards
Catawba, and thence to Hanging Rock. Meantime, we must sweep up our
rubbish. So, major, look to your duty! It might as well have been done
at first," he added, speaking to himself, as he walked away from the
group of officers to look after other affairs.
The execution of Butler was now regarded as a mere matter of business,
and to be despatched as one item of duty amongst the thousand others
that were to be looked after in the hurry of breaking up the post. The
interest of the trial had faded away by the lapse of time, and in the
more predominating excitements which the absorbing character of the late
events had afforded. The preparations for this ceremony were, therefore,
attended with no display, and scarcely seemed to arouse inquiry amongst
the soldiers of the camp. It was treated in all respects as a
subordinate point of police. Ten files were detailed; one drum and fife
put in requisition; and this party, attended by Frazer, and two or three
officers who happened to be near at the moment, marched with a careless
step to head-quarters.
The first announcement of this sudden resolve was made to the prisoner
by a subaltern; who, without prelude or apology, or the least effort to
mitigate the harshness of the order he bore, walked abruptly into the
chamber and delivered the message of his superior.
"It is a sudden proceeding," said Butler, calmly; "but your pleasure
must be obeyed."
"You have had two days to think of it," replied the officer; "it is not
often so much time is allowed. Ensign St. Jermyn, sir, is safe, and that
is all we waited for. We march to-morrow, and therefore have no time to
lose. You are waited for below."
Butler stood a moment with his hand pressed upon his brow, and then
muttered,
"It is even so; our unhappy country is lost, and the reign of blood is
but begun. I would ask the poor favor of a moment's delay, and the
privilege of pen, ink, and paper, whilst I write but a line to a
friend."
"Impossible, sir," said the man. "Time is precious, and our orders are
positive."
"This is like the rest," answered Butler; "I submit." Then buttoning his
coat across his breast, he left the room with a firm and composed step.
When he reached the door the first person who met his eye was Captain
St. Jermyn. There was an expression of formal gravity in the manner of
this officer, as he accosted the prisoner, and lamented the rigor of the
fate that awaited him. And it was somewhat with a cold and polite
civility that he communicated his readiness to attend to any request
which Butler, in his last moments, might wish to have performed.
Butler thanked him for his solicitude, and then said, "I asked
permission to write to a friend; that has been denied. I feel reluctant
to expose myself to another refusal. You have taken a slight interest in
my sufferings, and I will, therefore, confide to you a simple wish,
which it will not cost my persecutors much to gratify. It is that I may
be taken to my grave, dressed as you see me now. I would not have my
person stripped or plundered."
"If you have valuables about you, sir, trust them to my keeping; I
promise you they shall be faithfully delivered according to your wish."
"What money there is about my person," replied Butler, "may be given to
the soldiers who are compelled to execute this harsh and unjust sentence
on my person; but I have a trinket," he said, drawing from his bosom a
miniature, which was suspended by a ribbon, "it is the gift of
one,"--here, for the first time, a tear started into Butler's eye, and
his power of utterance failed him.
"I understand, sir," said St. Jermyn, eagerly reaching out his hand to
take the picture, "I will seek the lady, at whatever hazard"--
"No," answered the unfortunate officer, "it must be buried with me. It
has dwelt here," he added with emotion, as he placed his hand upon his
heart, "and here it must sleep in death."
"On the honor of a soldier," said St. Jermyn, "I promise you its rest
shall not be violated."
"You will attend me?"
"I will."
"Lead on," said the prisoner, stepping to the place assigned him in the
ranks. "I seek no further delay."
"March down the river, half a mile below the camp," said Innis, who now
came up, as the escort had begun its progress towards the place of
execution. And the soldiers moved slowly, with the customary funeral
observances, in a direction that led across the whole extent of the
plain.
When this little detachment had disappeared on the further side of the
field, a sudden commotion arose at head-quarters by the hasty arrival of
a mounted patrol--
"We are followed!" cried the leading horseman, in great perturbation.
"They will be here in an instant! We have been pressed by them for the
last two miles."
"Of whom do you speak?" inquired Innis, eagerly.
"The enemy! the enemy!" vociferated several voices.
At the same moment a cloud of dust was seen rising above the trees, in
the direction of the road leading up the Ennoree.
"To arms--to arms!" ejaculated the commander. "Gentlemen, spring to your
horses, and sound the alarm through the camp--we are set upon by
Sumpter--it can be no other. Curry, take a few dragoons--follow the
prisoner--mount him behind one of your men, and retreat with him
instantly to Blackstock's!"
Having given these hasty orders, Innis, with the several officers who
happened to be at hand, ran to their horses, mounted, and pushed forward
to the camp. They had scarcely left their quarters before two dragoons,
in advance of a party of twenty or thirty men, rushed up to the door.
"Sarch the house!" shouted the leading soldier. "Three or four of you
dismount and sarch the house! Make sure of Major Butler, if he is there!
The rest of you forward with me!"
The delay before head-quarters scarcely occupied a moment, and in the
meantime the number of the assailants was increased by the squadrons
that poured in from the rear. These were led by a young officer of great
activity and courage, who, seeing the disordered condition of the
royalists, waved his sword in the air as he beckoned his men to follow
him in a charge upon the camp.
The advanced party, with the two dragoons, were already on the field
charging the first body that they found assembled; and, close behind
them, followed Colonel Williams--the officer of whom I have spoken--with
a large division of cavalry. At the same moment that Williams entered
upon the plain from this quarter, a second and third corps, led
respectively by Shelby and Clarke, were seen galloping upon the two
flanks of the encampment.
The plain was now occupied by about two hundred Whig cavalry. The
royalists, taken by surprise, over their cups it may be said, and in the
midst of a riotous festival, were everywhere thrown into the wildest
confusion. Such of them as succeeded in gaining their arms, took post
behind the trees, and kept up an irregular fire upon the assailants.
Colonel Innis had succeeded in getting together about a hundred men at a
remote corner of his camp, and had now formed them into a solid column
to resist the attack of the cavalry, whilst from this body he poured
forth a few desultory volleys of musketry, hoping to gain time to
collect the scattered forces that were in various points endeavoring to
find their proper station. Horse Shoe Robinson and John Ramsay--the two
foremost in the advance--were to be discovered pushing through the
sundered groups of the enemy with a restless and desperate valor that
nothing could withstand.
"Cut them down," cried Horse Shoe, "without marcy! remember the
Waxhaws!" And he accompanied his exhortation with the most vehement and
decisive action, striking down, with a huge sabre, all who opposed his
way.
Meantime, Colonel Williams and his comrades charged the column formed by
Innis, and, in a few moments, succeeded in riding through the array and
compelling them to a total rout. Robinson and Ramsay, side by side,
mingled in this charge, and were seen in the thickest of the fight.
Innis, finding all efforts to maintain his ground ineffectual, turned
his horse towards Musgrove's mill, and fled as fast as spur and sword
could urge the animal forward. The sergeant, however, had marked him for
his prize, and following as fleetly as the trusty Captain Peter was able
to carry him, soon came up with the fugitive officer, and, with one
broad sweep of his sword, dislodged him from his saddle and left him
bleeding on the ground. Turning again towards the field, his quick eye
discerned the unwieldy bulk of Hugh Habershaw. The gross captain had, in
the hurry of the assault, been unable to reach his horse; and, in the
first moments of danger, had taken refuge in one of the little sheds
which had been constructed for the accommodation of the soldiers. As the
battle waxed hot in the neighborhood of his retreat, he had crept forth
from his den and was making the best of his way to an adjoining
cornfield. He was bare-headed, and his bald crown, as the slanting rays
of the evening sun fell upon it, glistened like a gilded globe. The well
known figure no sooner occurred to the sergeant's view than he rode off
in pursuit. The cornfield was bounded by a fence, and the burly braggart
had just succeeded in reaching it when his enemy overtook him.
"Have mercy, good Mr. Horse Shoe, have mercy on a defenceless man!"
screamed the runaway, in a voice discordant with terror, as he stopped
at the fence, which he was unable to mount, and looked back upon his
pursuer. "Remember the good-will I showed you when you was a prisoner!
Quarter, quarter--for God's sake, quarter!"
"You get no quarter from me, you cursed blood-lapper!" exclaimed Horse
Shoe, excited to a rage that seldom visited his breast; "think of
Grindall's Ford!" and at the same instant he struck a heavy downward
blow, with such sheer descent, that it clove the skull of the perfidious
freebooter clean through to the spine. "I have sworn your death," said
the sergeant, "even if I catch you asleep in your bed, and right fairly
have you earned it."
The body fell into a bed of mire, which had been the resort of the
neighboring swine; and, leaving it in this foul plight, Horse Shoe
hastened back to rejoin his comrades.
The battle now ended in the complete route of the enemy. Williams's
first care, after the day was won, was to collect his men and to secure
his prisoners. Many of the Tories had escaped; many were killed and
wounded; but of Butler no tidings could be gained; he had disappeared
from the field before the fight began, and all the information that the
prisoners could give was that orders had been sent to remove him from
the neighborhood. Colonel Innis was badly wounded, and in no condition
to speak with his conquerors; he was sent, with several other disabled
officers, to head-quarters. Captain St. Jermyn had fled, with most of
those who had mounted their horses before the arrival of Williams.
The day was already at its close, and order was taken to spend the night
upon the field. Guards were posted, and every precaution adopted to
avoid a surprise in turn from the enemy, who, it was feared, might soon
rally a strong party and assail the conquerors.
The disturbed condition of the country, and the almost unanimous
sentiment of the people against the Whigs, now strengthened by the late
victories, prevented Williams from improving his present advantage, or
even from bearing off his prisoners. Robinson and Ramsay volunteered to
head a party to scour the country in quest of Butler, but the commanding
officer could give no encouragement to the enterprise; it was, in his
judgment, a hopeless endeavor, when the forces of the enemy were
everywhere so strong. His determination, therefore, was to retreat, as
soon as his men were in condition, back to his fastnesses. His few
killed were buried; the wounded, of which there were not more than
fifteen or twenty were taken care of, and the jaded troops were
dismissed to seek refreshment amongst the abundant stores captured from
the enemy. Ensign St. Jermyn was still a prisoner; and, for the sake of
adding to Butler's security, Williams selected two or three other
officers that had fallen into his hands to accompany him in his retreat.
These arrangements all being made, the colonel and his officers retired
to repose. The next morning at daylight there were no traces of the
Whigs to be seen upon the plain. It was abandoned to the loyalist
prisoners and their wounded comrades.