"It was too late to check the wasting brand,
And Desolation reap'd the famish'd land;
The torch was lighted, and the flame was spread,
And Carnage smiled upon her daily dead."
--"Count Lara," Byron.
While they were conversing the fisherman himself entered. He was a man
of middle age, much bronzed by exposure to weather, but with a kindly
gleam in his keen gray eyes. Peggy rose as he entered, and started
forward to meet him.
"Thy wife tells me that I owe thee my life, sir," she said, extending
her hand. "I don't know how to tell thee how much I thank thee."
"Then don't try," he replied, taking her little hand awkwardly. "Now
don't stand up, my girl. You're like a ghost. Ain't she, Mandy?"
"Yes," responded his wife. "And what do you think, Henry? She was on one
of the ships that started from New York with Sir Henry Clinton for
Georgia. They intend making another attempt to take Charleston."
The fisherman's brow contracted in a frown. "So they air a-going to
bring the war down here?" he remarked thoughtfully. "That's bad news.
Was there many ships?"
"Five of the line, and I don't know how many transports with men,
ordnance and horses," answered Peggy.
"Mayhap they're all foundered by that storm," exclaimed the dame.
"'Twould be a mercy if they was."
"Mandy," spoke her husband, in a warning tone.
"She's a Whig, Henry Egan, and her father's in the Continental army,"
explained the good woman. "And what's more, she's a prisoner of war,
too. Jest you tell him about it."
And Peggy told again all her little story. When she spoke of the time
spent in the camp of the main army, the fisherman became intensely
interested.
"And so you know General Washington?" he remarked smiling. "How does he
look? We all air mighty proud of him down here. You see he comes from
this part of the country. Jest over here in Virginny. A next door
neighbor, you might call him."
And Peggy told all she could about General Washington, about such of his
generals as she had met, the movements of the army, and everything
connected with her stay in New York. Nor was this the last telling.
North Carolina, while intensely patriotic as a whole and responding
liberally to the country's demand for troops and supplies, had
heretofore had but one slight incursion from the British. For this
reason they were eager to hear from one who had been in the midst of the
main armies, and who seemed to come as a direct messenger from that
far-off Congress whose efforts to sustain a central government were
becoming so woefully weak.
So Peggy found herself the centre of a little circle, composed of true
and tried Whigs whose leaning toward the cause had more than once
brought them into conflict with neighboring Tories.
The cottage was situated on a small inlet of the ocean a few miles east
of the Cape Fear River. A little distance from the main shore a low
yellow ridge of sand hills stretched like a serpent, extending nearly
the full length of the state on the ocean side, and making the coast the
dread of mariners. These reefs were called "the banks." The cottage was
an unpretentious structure, consisting of but three rooms: the
living-room or kitchen, a little chamber for Peggy, and a larger one
occupied by the fisherman and his wife. But the fisherman had grown rich
from wreckage. He had a number of beef cattle, and herded "banker
ponies" by the hundred.
Peggy grew fond of him and of the wife, and assisted in all the duties
of the simple household. And so the time went by, and then there came to
them rumors of the British fleet which had at last landed its forces for
the besieging of Charleston.
Anxiously the result was awaited. North Carolina rushed men to the city
to help in its defense, for if that fell it was but a question of time
until their own state would suffer invasion. At last, Henry Egan betook
himself to Wilmington, thirty miles distant, for news. On his return his
brow was overcast with melancholy.
"Charleston is taken," he announced in gloomy tones. "The whole of
General Lincoln's army air prisoners. The British air overrunning all
South Carolina, plundering and burning the house of every Whig, and
trying to force every man in the state to join their army. The Tories in
both states air rising, and I tell you, wife, it won't be long until our
time comes."
"I am afraid so," answered Mistress Egan, turning pale. "Oh, Henry, I
wish we was up to mother's at Charlotte. We would be safe up there."
"I don't know, Mandy. It seems as though there was no place safe from
the British. It might be best to go up there, but I'd never reach there
with the ponies. The people air a-hoping that Congress will send us some
help from the main army. The state hasn't anything now but milish. 'Tis
said in Wilmington that Sir Henry returns soon to New York, leaving Lord
Cornwallis to complete the subjugation of the South. He publicly boasts
that North Carolina will receive him with open arms."
"Belike the Tories will," remarked the good dame sarcastically. "I
reckon he'll find a few that won't be so overjoyed. Mayhap too they'll
give him a welcome of powder and ball."
But the reports that came to them from time to time of the atrocities
committed by the British in the sister state were far from reassuring.
Events followed each other in rapid succession. Georgetown, Charleston,
Beaufort and Savannah were the British posts on the sea; while Augusta,
Ninety-six, and Camden were those of the interior. From these points
parties went forth, gathering about them profligate ruffians, and roamed
the state indulging in rapine, and ready to put patriots to death as
outlaws. The Tories in both the Carolinas rose with their masters, and
followed their lead in plundering and arson.
"I do wish, Henry," said his wife, "that you would sell off all the beef
cattle and marsh ponies that you have. We'll be getting a visit along
with the rest of the folks. I reckon, if you don't."
"Everything is all right," cried Henry who had just returned from
Wilmington. "Tidings jest come that Congress has sent General Gates to
take command of the Southern army, and they say he's advancing as fast
as he can."
"Well, it wouldn't do no hurt to get rid of the critters anyway,"
persisted his wife. "A lot of harm can be done before Gates gets here."
"I tell you everything is all right now," said Henry exultingly. "Just
let Horatio Gates get a whack at Cornwallis, and he'll Burgoyne him jest
as he did the army at Saratoga."
"I wish it was General Arnold who was coming," said Peggy. She had never
felt confidence in General Gates since John Drayton had related his
version of that battle. The exposure of the "Conway Cabal" had lessened
her faith in him also, as it had that of many people. "General Arnold
was the real hero of Saratoga. He and Daniel Morgan; so I've heard."
"Well, I ain't saying nothing against Arnold," was the fisherman's
answer. "He's a brave man, dashing and brilliant; but if Congress hadn't
thought that Gates was the man for us they wouldn't have sent him down."
Peggy said no more. The climax came in August when, utterly routed at
Camden, Gates fled alone from his army into Charlotte. A few days later,
Sumter, who now commanded the largest force that remained in the
Carolinas, was surprised by Colonel Tarleton as he bivouacked on the
Wateree, and put to rout by that officer. Elated by his success
Cornwallis prepared for his northward march, and in furtherance of his
plans inaugurated a reign of terror.
One night in the latter part of August Peggy could not sleep. It was
very warm, and she rose and went out on the little porch where she stood
trying to get a breath of air. The sea moved with a low murmur, the surf
being very light.
"How warm it is," she mused. "Even the sea is quiet to-night. How
different it is down here from my own Philadelphia. Is mother there now,
I wonder? Or would she be at Strawberry Hill? I wish----"
She bent her head abruptly in a listening attitude. The tramp of a horse
approaching in a gallop was plainly heard. But a few moments elapsed
before a man, who in the starlight she could see was armed, dashed up
and drew rein before the cottage calling loudly:
"Awake! Awake, Henry Egan! The British and Tories are coming. Awake,
man, awake!"
"Friend," called the girl excitedly, "who is thee?"
"A friend. Jack Simpson," he answered. "Is Egan dead, that he does not
answer? He must awake."
Peggy ran to the door of the bedchamber, calling wildly:
"Friend Henry, Friend Mandy, awake, awake!"
"Who calls?" cried Egan, sitting up suddenly.
"'Tis Peggy," answered she quickly. "A friend is here who says the
Tories are coming."
"The Lord have mercy on us," ejaculated Mistress Egan springing out of
bed. "Henry, Henry, get up! The British and Tories are upon us."
At last awake, the fisherman sprang from his bed, and rushed to the
door.
"Get your wife and whatever you want to save," shouted the man outside.
"The British are out with Fanning's Tories burning every suspected house
in the district. No time to lose, Henry. They're coming now."
Egan hurried back into the house, and caught up a portmanteau which he
kept lying by his bed at night. Mistress Egan and Peggy were dressed by
this time, and the three hurried into the swamp which lay to the north
of the cottage. The man who had given the warning passed on to perform
the same office for other menaced families.
Unused to swamps, the British seldom followed the inhabitants into their
recesses, and this proved the safety of many a family in the Carolinas.
They were scarcely within the confines of the marsh when they heard the
tramp of many hoofs, the neighing of horses, and the enemy was at the
cottage.
"By my hilt, the birds have flown," shouted an English voice, and the
words were distinctly heard through the stillness of the night. "Search
the house, boys. Egan must have some rich pickings. Bring out whatever
there is of value, and then burn the hut. The horses and cattle must be
hereabouts somewhere."
There followed hoarse cries and a rush for the building. It seemed to
Peggy that a moment had hardly passed before a red glare lit up the spot
where the cottage stood.
"Back into the swamp," whispered Egan in a whisper. "They may see us
here."
Back into thicknesses of morass such as Peggy had never seen before they
went, speaking only when necessary and then in the lowest of tones. And
thus the rest of the night was spent, while the fiends ravaged the
herding pens, and beat up the bushes for the ponies. The fugitives
remained in hiding until morning dawned. Then they made their way back
to the blackened ruins of the cottage. Tears coursed down Peggy's cheeks
at the sight.
"What shall thee do?" she cried putting her arms about Mistress Egan.
"Oh, what shall thee do?"
For a moment the fisherman's wife could not speak. She shed no tears,
but her face was worn, and drawn, and haggard. She had aged in the
night.
"Henry," she cried, "there is but one thing for us to do, and that is to
get to mother's."
"And how shall we do that, Mandy? We have neither horse nor wagon left
us."
"Henry Egan, I'm ashamed of you! Ain't we in North Carolina? When did
her people ever refuse to aid each other?"
"You're right," he acknowledged humbly. "North Carolina is all right--but
the Tories. I don't take no stock in that part of her population."
"And neither do I," she rejoined grimly. "From this time on I am a Whig
out and aboveboard. They have done us all the harm they can, I reckon.
What you got in that bag, Henry?"
Egan smiled.
"It's gold, Mandy. I reckon they didn't find all the pickings."
"For mercy sake, Henry Egan, we can't get through the country with
that," exclaimed the good woman. "Bury it, or do something with it."
"Yes," he said. "That will be the safest. Wait for me while I do it." He
was with them again in a short time. "We will go to Hampton's and get
something to eat," he said. "I kept a little money, and maybe Mis'
Hampton will let us have some horses." He turned as he spoke and his
wife started after him, but Peggy lingered.
"Come, child," said Mistress Egan. "It's a right smart way over to
Hampton's. We must get along."
"But," hesitated Peggy, "won't I be a burden now? I ought not to add to
thy trouble."
"Why, honey, you have nowhere to go. What would you do? Now don't worry
about trouble, but just come right along. We will all keep together.
What's ourn is yours too." And gratefully Peggy went with them. It was
indeed a "right smart way" to Hampton's, which proved to be a large
plantation lying some ten miles from the cottage. It was a cloudless day
in August, and excessively warm. When they at length reached the place
they were footsore and weary.
"Why, Mandy Egan," exclaimed a motherly looking woman, coming to the
door of the dwelling as she caught sight of them. "Whatever has
happened? Come right in. You all look ready to drop."
Mistress Egan, who had borne up wonderfully all through the long night
and the wearing walk, now broke down at this kindly greeting.
"The Tories, under some British, burnt us out last night," explained her
husband. "They sacked the house first, of course, and ran off all the
ponies and cattle. We have come to you for help, Martha. Will you let us
have the horses to get up to Charlotte to her mother's?"
"Of course I will, Henry. All sorts of reports are flying about. Will
says that down at Wilmington 'tis thought that nothing can save the old
north state. Cornwallis hath already begun his march toward us."
"Heaven save us if 'tis true," ejaculated the fisherman, sinking into a
chair. "First Lincoln and his whole army at Charleston; then Gates and
his forces at Camden! Two armies in three months swept out of existence.
The cause is doomed."
"Oh, if they had only sent General Arnold," cried Peggy. "He is so
brave, so daring, I just know he could have saved us."
Gravely, oppressed by vague fears for the future, they gathered about
the table. American freedom trembled in the balance. Disaster had
followed fast upon disaster. Georgia, South Carolina restored to the
British--North Carolina's turn to be subjugated was at hand.
It was with sad forebodings that the three began their journey toward
the north early the next morning.