It is much to be regretted that the chronicles of the war of the
Revolution in the South are so meager in personal incidents. There can
be but one reason for this: the want of a local historian to gather up
and preserve in print the details of the contest, ere the actors of
those stirring scenes had passed from the stage—for the wild and
stirring adventures of "Marion's Men," and of others in North and South
Carolina, must have been as full of romance as the heart of the
historian could desire.
It is fortunate that one of Marion's officers did wield the pen a
little, as well as the sword. Colonel Horry served under General Marion.
His adventures were numerous and some of them amusing. He left a
manuscript memoir, giving the particulars of some of his exploits, among
others the one illustrated in our engraving.
He was brave, and ambitious of distinction. This ambition led him to
desire a command of cavalry rather than of infantry. But he was no
rider—was several times unhorsed in combat, and was indebted to the
fidelity of his soldiers for his safety. On one occasion his escape was
more narrow from a different cause. Crossing the swamp at Lynch's Creek,
to join Marion, in the dark, and the horse swimming, he encountered the
bough of a tree, to which he clung while his horse passed from under
him. He was no swimmer, and but for timely assistance from his followers
would have been drowned.
Another story is told of him which places him in a scarcely less
ludicrous attitude:
He was ordered by Marion to await, in ambush, the approach of a British
detachment. The duty was executed with skill: the enemy was completely
in his power. But he labored under an impediment in his speech, which we
may readily suppose was greatly increased by anxiety and excitement. The
word "Fire!" stuck in his throat, as "amen" did in that of Macbeth. The
emergency was pressing, but this only increased the difficulty. In vain
did he make the attempt. He could say: "Fi—fi—fi!" but he could get no
further; the "er" was incorrigible. At length, irritated almost to
madness, he exclaimed:
"_Shoot_, d—n you, _shoot!_ you know what I would say! Shoot, and be
d——d to you!"
He was present, and acted bravely, in almost every affair of
consequence, in the brigade of Marion. At Quimly, Captain Baxter, a man
distinguished by his great strength and courage, as well as size, and by
equally great simplicity of character, cried out:
"I am wounded, Colonel!"
"Think no more of it, Baxter," was the answer of Horry, "but stand to
your post."
"But I can't stand," says Baxter, "I am wounded a second time."
"Lie down then, Baxter, but quit not your post."
"They have shot me again, Colonel," said the wounded man, "and if I stay
any longer here, I shall be shot to pieces."
"Be it so, Baxter, but stir not," was the order, which the brave fellow
obeyed, receiving a fourth wound ere the engagement was over.
[Illustration:
Colonel Horry and Captain Merritt's Conflict.—_Page_ 15.
]
Another adventure is thus related by Horry himself: "I was sent," he
writes, "by General Marion to reconnoiter Georgetown. I proceeded with a
guide through the woods all night. At the dawn of day, I drew near the
town. I laid an ambuscade, with thirty men and three officers, near the
road. About sunrise a chair appeared with two ladies escorted by two
British officers. I was ready in advance with an officer to cut them
off, but reflecting that they might escape, and alarm the town, which
would prevent my taking greater numbers, I desisted. The officers and
chair halted very near me, but soon the chair went on, and the officers
galloped in retrograde into the town. Our party continued in ambush,
until ten o'clock, A. M. Nothing appearing, and men and horses having
eaten nothing for thirty-six hours, we were hungered, and retired to a
plantation of my quartermaster's, a Mr. White, not far distant. There a
curious scene took place. As soon as I entered the house, four ladies
appeared, two of whom were Mrs. White and her daughter. I was asked what
I wanted. I answered, food, refreshment. The other two ladies were those
whom I had seen escorted by the British officers. They seemed greatly
agitated, and begged most earnestly that I would go away, for the family
was very poor, had no provisions of any sort—that I knew that they were
Whigs, and surely would not add to their distress. So pressing were they
for my immediately leaving the plantation, that I thought they had more
in view than they pretended. I kept my eyes on Mrs. White, and saw she
had a smiling countenance, but said nothing. Soon she left the room, and
I left it also and went into the piazza, laid my cap, sword and pistols
on the long bench, and walked the piazza;—when I discovered Mrs. White
behind the house chimney beckoning me. I got to her, undiscovered by the
young ladies, when she said: 'Colonel Horry, be on your guard; these two
ladies, Miss F— and M—, are just from Georgetown; they are much
frightened, and I believe the British are leaving it and may soon attack
you. As to provisions, which they make such a rout about, I have plenty
for your men and horses in yonder barn, but you must affect to take them
by force. Hams, bacon, rice and fodder are there. You must insist on the
key of the barn, and threaten to split the door with an ax if not
immediately opened.' I begged her to say no more, for I was well
acquainted with all such matters—to leave the ladies and every thing
else to my management. She said 'Yes; but do not ruin us: be artful and
cunning, or Mr. White may be hanged and all our houses burned over our
heads.' We both secretly returned, she to the room where the young
ladies were, and I to the piazza I had just left."
This little narrative will give some idea of the straits to which the
good whig matrons of Carolina were sometimes reduced in those days. But
no time was allowed Horry to extort the provisions as suggested. He had
scarcely got to the piazza when his videttes gave the alarm. Two shots
warned him of the approach of the foe, and forgetting that his cap,
saber and pistols lay on the long bench on the piazza, Horry mounted his
horse, left the inclosure, and rushed into the _melée_. The British were
seventeen in number, well mounted and commanded by a brave fellow named
Merritt. The dragoons, taken by surprise, turned in flight, and, smiting
at every step, the partisans pursued them with fatal earnestness. But
two men are reported to have escaped death or captivity, and they were
their Captain and a Sergeant. It was in approaching to encounter Merritt
that Horry discovered that he was weaponless. "My officers," says he,
"in succession, came up with Captain Merritt, who was in the rear of his
party, urging them forward. They engaged him. He was a brave fellow.
Baxter, with pistols, fired at his breast, and missing him, retired;
Postelle and Greene, with swords, engaged him; both were beaten off.
Greene nearly lost his head. His buckskin breeches were cut through
several inches. I almost blush to say that this one British officer beat
off three Americans." The honor of the day was decidedly with Merritt,
though he was beaten. He was no doubt a far better swordsman than our
self-taught cavalry, with broadswords wrought out of mill-saws. Merritt
abandoned his horse, and escaped to a neighboring swamp, from whence, at
midnight, he got into Georgetown.
Colonel Horry, after the war, met Captain Merritt in New York, when the
latter recognized him, and in the interview which followed, confessed,
that although so desperate in his self-defense he was never more
frightened in his life.
"Believe me, sir," said he, "when I assure you that I went out that
morning with my locks as bright an auburn as ever curled upon the
forehead of youth, but by the time I had crawled out of the swamp into
Georgetown that night, they were as gray as a badger!"
If this is true, he must indeed have been wofully frightened, for the
records of such an effect of terror are few and far between. One of
Byron's heroes says that
"His locks grew white,
In a single night."
But that was with grief, and not with fear.
Horry's award of praise to the British Captain for his courage in
beating off three of his own men, was both generous and ingenious, when
it is considered that the Englishman was a scientific swordsman,
possessing a superior weapon, while his antagonists were self-taught,
and their swords, if not beaten out of "plowshares," were veritably made
out of mill-saws.
In one of his numerous encounters, while his men were individually
engaged and scattered through the woods around him, he suddenly found
himself alone, and assailed by a Tory Captain, named Lewis, at the head
of a small party. Lewis was armed with a musket, and in the act of
firing, when an unexpected shot from the woods tumbled him off his
horse, in the very moment when his own gun was discharged. The bullet of
Lewis took effect on Horry's horse. The shot which so seasonably slew
the Tory was sent by the hand of a boy named Given.
Colonel Horry gives, in his memoirs, a good illustration of the mingled
firmness and forbearance with which Marion enforced discipline amidst
men and circumstances not any too easily governed. Marion had placed one
of his detachments at the plantation of George Crofts, on Tampit Creek.
This person had proved invariably true to the American cause; had
supplied the partisans frequently, though secretly, with munitions of
war, cattle and provisions. He was an invalid, however, suffering from a
mortal infirmity, which compelled his removal, for medical attendance,
to Georgetown, then in possession of the enemy. During the absence of
the family, Marion placed a Sergeant in the house for its protection.
This guard was expelled from the premises by two officers of the
brigade, who stripped the house of its contents. Colonel Horry disclosed
these facts to General Marion—the Colonel having received them from Mrs.
Crofts, who had pointed to the sword of her husband hanging by the side
of the principal offender. The indignation of Marion was not apt to
expend itself in words. Redress was promised to the complainant, and she
was dismissed.
The offenders were men of some influence, and had a small faction in the
brigade, which had already proved troublesome, and which might easily
become dangerous. One of them was a Major, the other a Captain. They
were in command of a company of men known as the Georgia Refugees. Upon
the minds of these men the offenders had already sought to act, in
reference to the expected collision with their General.
Marion dispatched Horry to the person who had possession of the sword of
Crofts, with a formal demand for the weapon. He refused to give it up,
alleging that it was his, and taken in war.
"If the General wants it," he added, "let him come for it himself."
When this reply was communicated to Marion, he instructed Horry to renew
the demand. His purpose seems to have been, discovering the temper of
the offender, to gain the necessary time. His officers, meanwhile, were
gathering around him. He was making his preparations for a struggle
which might be bloody—which might, indeed, involve, not only the safety
of the brigade, but his own future usefulness. Horry, with proper
spirit, entreated not to be sent again to the refractory officer, giving
as the reason for his reluctance, that, in consequence of the previous
rudeness of the other, he was not in the mood to tolerate a repetition
of the indignity, and might, if irritated, be provoked to violence.
Marion then dispatched his orderly to the guilty Major, with a civil
request that he might see him at head-quarters. The Major appeared,
accompanied by the Captain who had joined him in the outrage, and under
whose influence he appeared to act. Marion renewed his demand, in
person, for the sword of Crofts. The Major again refused to deliver it,
asserting that Crofts was a Tory, even then with the enemy in
Georgetown.
"Will you deliver me the sword, Major?" repeated the General.
"I will not."
"At these words," says Horry, in his memoirs, I could forbear no longer,
and said with great warmth, and a great oath: "Did I, sir, command this
brigade, as you do, I would hang them both in half an hour!"
Marion sternly replied:
"This is none of your business, sir; they are before me! Sergeant of the
guard, bring me a file of men with loaded arms and fixed bayonets."
"I was silent," added Horry. "All our field-officers in camp were
present, and they had put their hands to their swords in readiness to
draw. My own sword was already drawn."
In the regular service, with officers bred up to the severe sense of
authority considered necessary to proper discipline, the offender would
probably have been hewn down in the moment of disobedience. The effect
of such a measure, in this instance, might have been most unhappy. The
_esprit du corps_ might have prompted the Major's immediate followers to
have resisted, and, though annihilated, as Horry says they would have
been, yet several valuable lives would have been lost, which their
country could ill spare. The mutiny would have been put down, but at
what a price!
The patience and prudence of Marion's character taught him forbearance.
His mildness, by putting the offender entirely in the wrong, so
justified his severity, as to disarm the followers of the criminals, who
were about sixty in number.
Horry continues: "The purpose of the officers was, to call upon these
men for support—we well knew they meant, if possible, to intimidate
Marion, so as to compel him to come into their measures of plunder and
Tory killing. The affair, fortunately, terminated without any bloodshed.
The prudence of the General had its effect. The delay gave time to the
offender for reflection. Perhaps, looking around upon their followers,
they saw no consenting spirit of mutiny in their eyes; for, though many
of the refugees were present, none offered to back the mutinous
officers—and when the guard which was ordered appeared in sight, the
companion of the offender was seen to touch the arm of the other, who
then proffered the sword to Marion, saying:
"'General, you need not have sent for the guard.'"
Marion, refusing to receive it, referred him to the Sergeant of the
guard, and thus, doubly degraded, the dishonored Major of the
Continentals disappeared from sight, followed by his associate.
Another one of Marion's bravest men was Sergeant Jasper, of whom the
readers of a former number have already heard in connection with the
melancholy and romantic story of the young Creole girl, who followed him
to camp, in the disguise of a soldier, and sacrificed her life to
preserve that of the man she loved, by rushing in between him and the
shot aimed at his breast.
Sergeant William Jasper, at the time of the affair which we are about to
relate, belonged to the Second regiment of the South Carolina militia,
having enlisted under Marion, who was then a Captain. Jasper, from the
day of his entering the camp, had been proverbial for his bravery. His
coolness and valor in times of emergency, and more than all, his utter
disregard of danger, had won for him the golden opinions of his
comrades, with the esteem and confidence of his commander. Jasper
possessed remarkable talents and capacity for a scout. Bold, active and
shrewd, with a frame capable of every endurance—the result of a hardy,
backwoods life—and retaining those noble qualities of bravery and
generosity which were the shining points of his character, he was
admirably adapted for that dangerous but important branch of the
service. Combining, in happy harmony, so many virtues, it is not
surprising that he won the affections of his associates, and the entire
confidence of his commander, who was so assured of his fitness that he
granted him a roving commission, with full power to select from the
brigade such men and as many as he should think proper. But of these he
never, or seldom, selected more than six or eight, preferring, by this
small band, celerity and secrecy. He was almost universally successful,
often penetrating the enemy's camp, or cutting off his rear or advanced
guard, and then returning with his prisoners, or his information,
according to the circumstances of the case. So rapid were his movements,
that he has been known to disappear from the camp and return again with
his prisoners, ere his absence was noticed by the commandant. He would
often enter the enemy's camp as a deserter, and complaining of the ill
usage he had received from his countrymen, so gain upon their
confidence, that he would completely disarm them of his real intentions,
and after satisfying himself of their strength, position, intentions,
and the like, would return and report his knowledge to the commander. On
one of these occasions, he remained in the enemy's camp eight days, and
then returned, after first informing himself of every thing necessary
that could be of any use to his General. This game, however, could be
played but once. Never at a loss how to proceed, he, with his usual
promptness, devised other ways and means to gain his information.
It was while he was in the employment of one of these roving
expeditions, that he prepared to again enter the camp of the British at
Ebenezer. It so happened that he had a brother at this post, who was in
the employ of the enemy—a melancholy instance among many other cases of
a like nature, which occurred during the war—who was a Tory, and who
held the same rank in the British army that he possessed in the
American. The brothers were equally dear to each other, though opposite
in political sentiment.
William Jasper loved his brother in the natural warmth of his generous
heart, and wished to see him. He also wished to inform himself of the
enemy's movements. With this double object in his mind, he therefore
prepared for his departure, taking with him only one companion, a brave
young fellow, like himself, who had shared with him many a "happy hunt,"
as he termed it, to the united honor of both. This young officer's name
was Newton, holding the same rank in the service as Jasper, namely, a
Sergeant.
It was about sunset when the two young officers left the camp for their
destination. Passing the American lines, they proceeded on rapidly
toward the British camp, which lay some few miles from Abercorn. Taking
the direct road to the latter place, they traveled rapidly until they
arrived in sight of the encamped British force, at Abercorn.
"We must now make a _detour_," said Jasper, halting, "in order to avoid
the British at this place, and not be discovered. Our route lies to the
south-east a little, and to shorten the journey, we must pass yonder
forest, the southern side of which borders upon a small lake or pond, a
very convenient place for a respite after the toils and fatigues of a
whole day's travel. I have often met straggling parties of Tories or
British in this forest, or around the margin of the lake, and it is
necessary, therefore, to proceed carefully while passing it. Just beyond
the lake is a small hill, from the summit of which the town of Ebenezer
can be seen some three or four miles distant. After we pass this forest
and hill, we must observe the utmost silence and scrutiny, for we are
then in the immediate vicinity of and between the two British posts,
which will necessarily place us in a double danger from the meeting of
scouts or Tories from either or both camps."
With these directions the two now resumed their journey, taking a small
path leading to the left, and directly in line of the forest. A few
minutes of brisk walking brought them to the outskirts of the forest,
which was an extensive piece of woodland, stretching with occasional
intervals far to the south-east, interrupted by a few broken and uneven
ranges of hills, somewhat elevated, but scarcely sufficiently so to be
called mountains. On the left of our travelers, the forest broke off
abruptly, a short distance above them, while its width was about a
quarter of a mile. It was quite dark ere they reached the woods, which
seemed to them almost impenetrable, having nothing but the faint
glimmering of the stars to guide them. The day had been very clear,
however, which left the atmosphere perfectly free, with nothing to
interrupt the twinklings of the little suns in the distant spheres.
As they entered the forest, they turned to the right, and struck into
the main road leading from Abercorn. They had proceeded some fifty
yards, when Jasper's accustomed ear caught the sound of horses' hoofs
upon the dry soil, moving somewhat rapidly toward them. Motioning his
comrade to halt, he remained an instant listening to the sound, and then
darted off into the thicket on his left, quickly followed by Newton.
Scarcely were they concealed behind a thick cluster of small cedars, ere
the horsemen, for such they proved to be, came up. Jasper instantly
recognized them as a party of British horse, bound on some scouting
expedition. Halting directly opposite to our travelers, two of them, who
appeared to be the leaders of the squad, dismounted and withdrew a short
distance. The road, at this place, was considerably wider than the usual
width, which caused a small opening in the wood, and which seemed a very
convenient situation for a halt. As the officers retired, they
fortunately came directly abreast of the cedars, behind which Jasper and
his comrade were ensconced, so that their conversation could easily be
distinguished by both of the latter.
"Our prisoners are no doubt safely within the lines of Ebenezer, ere
this," began the first, "unless rescued by some of their rebel brethren,
which I think can hardly be the case, as we were close to the town when
we left them."
"No fear of that, Lieutenant," replied the second, "for the rebel dogs
would not dare to be so audacious."
"I am not so sure of that," exclaimed the other, doubtingly; "that
Jasper has the audacity of Satan himself, and if he should be in the
neighborhood, I should almost fear for our prisoners. However, if they
are once within the lines, no power will save them, as I am assured by
the commandant that they will be sent to Savannah for trial and
execution, which will have the effect of intimidating, at least, these
rebel curs from further marauding expeditions;" and he chuckled with an
air of self-satisfaction at the thought of their petty victory.
"Well, be that as it may, Lieutenant," replied his comrade, "it is
another letter in our catalogue of victories, which serves to make us
more popular with the commandant. In either case, we get our thanks, you
know, and that is something toward elevating us toward our desired
height."
"True," rejoined the Lieutenant. "But let us not waste more time and
words than is necessary. Let me see," he added, thoughtfully, "we will
pursue our course north to Abercorn, and deliver our message to the
commander, and then shape our proceedings as shall seem most fit."
With these words, the two officers mounted their horses, and were soon
lost to view, with their party, on the road to the northern station.
Jasper and his friend now emerged from their place of concealment, and
taking the road opposite to the direction of the royalists, resumed
their journey.
"So, so," exclaimed Jasper, as they hurried along, "they have taken some
'rebel curs' prisoners, have they? And they will no doubt give them the
benefit of 'short shrift and sudden cord,' if they act in consonance
with their general character. But we must endeavor to rescue them, if
their guard is not too strong for us, which I hardly think will be the
case, as they will have no fear of such a thing in the immediate
vicinity of their own lines."
"It is a hazardous undertaking, Jasper," replied Newton, "and must be
attended with a great deal of risk, as, you know, the enemy occupy every
point of note between this and Savannah; and besides, there is scarcely
an hour of the day that some of their scouting-parties do not prowl
between the posts."
"So much the more glory if we succeed," said the noble Jasper; "and if
we fail, why then we share their fate. And we could not sacrifice
ourselves in a nobler cause. There is another reason why we should
endeavor to rescue them, and that is, they are prisoners, and will, no
doubt, be driven to their execution within the walls of Savannah without
even the right of a trial; for the British are notorious for their
bloody propensities, and seek to vent their hate upon poor captives in a
cruel and shameful manner."
"I am certainly of your opinion," said Newton, "still we must not be
impetuous. Our country needs all the help she can command, and she does
not require us to sacrifice our lives in endeavoring to accomplish
impossibilities. However, we shall soon see."
The officers had now nearly reached the limits of the forest, and taking
the right of two roads which here joined, they were presently in the
open country. Nothing of importance occurred to them during the rest of
the journey, which was accomplished in safety to the British lines.
Arriving at the advanced guard, and having left Newton concealed until
his return, Jasper promptly gave the password, and soon found himself
within the enemy's camp. Passing on hastily, he entered his brother's
quarters, whom he found just about issuing forth to detail a file of men
for special duty to guard the prisoners recently captured, having been
sent into Ebenezer on their way to Savannah for trial.
These prisoners had taken up arms against their countrymen at the
beginning of the contest; but as the British had been in a measure
overthrown, they again joined the ranks of the patriots, and on being
taken, were to be executed. This was only one instance of hundreds of
others who had acted similarly.
The brothers Jasper were mutually rejoiced to see each other; but the
Tory shook his head doubtfully as he beheld his brother again within the
British camp, after having so shrewdly deceived them on a former
occasion. But William Jasper quickly reassured his mind on this point,
and bade him be under no uneasiness.
Having ascertained from his brother the number of men who were to
conduct the prisoners to Savannah, at what time they intended to leave,
and also making such other inquiries as he deemed proper, Jasper bade
him adieu, and soon sought his comrade, Newton, whom he found anxiously
waiting his return.
"I have received information from my brother," he said, "that these
prisoners leave to-morrow morning at sunrise for Savannah, under a guard
of eight men, and accompanied by a Sergeant and a Corporal. The odds is
not so very great after all; and I think by a little stratagem and
boldness we can succeed in rescuing them. At all events, let us make the
trial."
But Jasper's friend was not so sure of success. Ten to two, and those
two unarmed, seemed to him too great odds to contend with, as having any
chance of succeeding. But when Jasper related to him that one of these
prisoners was a woman who had a young child, and that she was the wife
of one of the captured men, his heart was touched at the melancholy
spectacle, and he instantly coincided with his friend that they should
attempt their rescue. This being their conclusion, they conferred as to
the best means of accomplishing the desired object. This was soon
decided upon. They determined to linger around the fortifications until
they should see the prisoners, with their guard, set out for the place
of destination, and then follow their footsteps until a convenient
opportunity offered to put into force the execution of their design.
Accordingly, selecting a secure concealment near the lines to await the
approach of dawn, they threw themselves upon the ground, and being
somewhat fatigued, soon fell asleep. The day was just beginning to
emerge ere Jasper awoke, so sound had been his rest, and springing up,
he aroused his friend.
All was activity in the British camp. Men were hurrying to and fro,
preparing for the duties of the day. In fact, the whole camp seemed to
be astir to Jasper and his comrade, as they issued from their place of
concealment to watch the movements of the enemy.
They had not proceeded far before their attention was arrested by a file
of soldiers marching out into the inclosure and then coming to a halt,
as though waiting further orders. Presently a body of men, with their
arms pinioned, was marched directly to their front. Dividing their
force, the prisoners were placed in the center, with a portion of their
guard in front and rear. Every thing being now in readiness, the whole
party started off toward their destined point, leaving the village at
the southern extremity.
Jasper and his companion now made a circuit of the village, so as not to
be discovered, and in order to place themselves on the track of the
troop. Having secured a suitable distance from the guard, they followed
them silently, watching their opportunity when to make the endeavor. In
this way they continued to track their friends and their guards for some
time, without any prospect of accomplishing their design, until they
were within two miles of Savannah. They had become nearly discouraged,
when Jasper suddenly recollected that just ahead of them there was a
noted spring, at which place they conjectured the guard would halt, with
their prisoners, to refresh themselves. The spring was known to
travelers, who, when journeying that way, seldom or never passed it
without tasting its crystalline waters. Jasper and Newton were right in
their conjectures. Arriving opposite the spring, the guard halted their
prisoners in the road under the shade of a large oak-tree, which stood
just on the margin of the road, and between that and the spring. Our
heroes, however, had reached the spring before the British, having taken
an obscure path with which they were well acquainted, and placing
themselves in ambush, awaited the arrival of the enemy.
The day was warm, and as the guard halted, the prisoners, glad to rest
their wearied limbs after so long a march, threw themselves upon the
earth under the shade of the tree, little dreaming of the succor so near
at hand. Very soon after, they were conducted to the spring by the
Corporal with four men. The remainder of the guard were under the charge
of the Sergeant, who halted them on the road a short distance from the
spring, and having ordered them to stack their arms, brought up the
rear. After having sufficiently quenched their thirst, the whole party
returned, leaving two men on guard of the arms which were all stacked
near the spring. These two men kept guard but indifferently. They had
nothing to fear within so short a distance of the fortress at Savannah,
conscious of being surrounded by none of their foes, and inclosed within
the very stronghold of the British lines. It is not surprising that they
should not maintain a very strict watch under such circumstances.
The propitious moment for the daring and hazardous attempt was drawing
near, which was eagerly watched by Jasper and his comrade in their
adjoining ambush.
The localities of the place, the position of the guard, the nearness of
the ambush—in short, every thing seemed most appropriate and
advantageous.
The spring, as we have said, was situated on the left, within a few feet
of the road, between which and the water stood the arms of the guard in
charge of the two men, who were lazily employed in watching the
bubblings of the fountain, and then tracing its clear waters as they
flowed silently off in a small rivulet in a winding direction, until
lost in the thick foliage a few rods below. Beyond, and in full view,
were the walls and fortifications of Savannah, almost within hailing
distance of the spot which our heroes have rendered immortal by their
daring achievement.
The remaining guard stood in a group on the opposite side of the road,
conversing freely and gayly, and utterly unconscious of the presence of
an enemy, while the prisoners were reclining under the stately oak, a
little on the left of the British.
The two soldiers were conversing cheerfully, having seated themselves by
the side of the spring, little dreaming that this colloquy was destined
to be their last.
Presently, the two arose, and leaning their muskets against a small
tree, close to where Jasper and his comrade lay concealed, they
proceeded to fill their canteens with the refreshing draught of the
spring.
At this moment Jasper gave the signal. Springing out from their ambush,
he and his companion seized the loaded weapons, and instantly leveling
them, shot the two soldiers dead upon the ground. Then rushing upon the
guard, they clubbed their muskets, and assailing two of the remaining
soldiers, who were in advance of the rest, they felled them to the
earth, and before the astonished guard could recover from their
surprise, they rushed to the stack of arms, and with presented weapons,
instantly demanded the surrender of the whole troop. The British
officers seeing their perilous situation, and noticing the determined
looks of Jasper and Newton, and being withal deprived of their arms,
complied with their demand, and yielded themselves and their men as
prisoners of war. To set free the captives was but the work of an
instant, and placing the muskets of the captured British into their
hands, Jasper ordered the irons to be placed upon the new prisoners; and
then hurrying away from this spot, which they have immortalized with a
name not soon to be forgotten, they crossed the Savannah with both
friends and foes, and were soon rapidly marching toward the American
camp.
Thus was this noble act achieved, of which history furnishes but few
parallels; and which strikingly illustrates the coolness, determination
and bravery, which ever characterized the noble-hearted Jasper. But,
unfortunately for his country, she was soon destined to lose his
valuable services, when, in the very hey-day of his youth, he sealed his
patriotism with his heart's blood before the walls of Savannah.