SAMUEL LEE.
Had Gavin Witherspoon been less strange in his manner, I should have
taken little heed of his joining us in the mission with which we had
been entrusted by General Marion, because the old man was often given
to whims, and this could well have been considered as simply a fancy on
his part to indulge in the love for adventure.
If he had contented himself with vague words concerning the possible
danger, neither Percy nor I would have paid any particular attention
to him, believing he simply magnified the peril in order that it might
appear as if he counted on being able to protect us.
His manner, however, was so exceeding odd--I can find no word
which comes nearer explaining it--that I believed at once he was in
possession of some knowledge which we did not share, and therefore had
good reason for crediting all he said.
A year later, perhaps, after I had had more experience in what some
gentlemen are pleased to call the "art of warfare," I might have held
my peace, trusting in our ability to ward off such dangers as should
arise, but then, ignorant as we were of a soldier's life, the old man's
actions impressed me disagreeably, as I have said already, and I was
minded to demand from him an explanation.
Never before had I found it a difficult matter to gain speech with
Gavin Witherspoon, for the old man was prone to indulge in conversation
regardless of suitable opportunity or place; but on this morning
Percy and I found it necessary to ride at full speed in order to come
alongside our self-appointed guardian, and we were, perhaps, five
miles from the camp when I finally succeeded in forcing him to open his
mouth.
"If you count to ride with us, Master Witherspoon, and claim that it is
your purpose to protect Percy and I, we at least have the right to know
why such an escort is considered necessary."
"That I have already explained," the old man replied curtly, and would
have spurred ahead of us once more but that Percy caught his bridle
rein, as he said sharply:
"We are minded, Gavin Witherspoon, to know the meaning of your
mysterious words and odd behavior. If it so be you know more concerning
the enemy than is told among the men of our brigade, let us hear it
now, that my brother and I may be in some degree prepared for coming
events."
"I have ridden with the command, and had no more means of gaining
information than others. What may be in my mind has come there through
what I call sound commonsense."
"And you have reasoned out that we are in greater danger than we were
four and twenty hours ago?" I said with a laugh, beginning to feel
somewhat of relief in my mind by this discovery, as I believed, that
the old man's fears were the result of his own imagination.
He must have read in the tone of my voice somewhat of that in my mind,
for, reining in his horse, he wheeled around to face Percy and myself
as he replied, speaking slowly and with exceeding earnestness:
"It was known to the leaders of our brigade that Captain Barfield had a
force of Tories nearabout Dubose Ferry. Think you Major Gainey and his
men did not have the same information?"
"Of course they did," I replied, wondering greatly what the old man
would come at.
"It is no more of a journey from Pedee Swamp to Dubose Ferry, than from
where we halted for breakfast."
Again he paused as if waiting some reply; but neither Percy nor I
spoke, for as yet we failed to understand what he was trying to convey.
"Major Gainey's force has lost an outfit, since our people took
possession of it, and must, therefore, seek another encampment. Do
you believe they will be content to remain in the swamp, knowin' their
friends are near at hand?"
"It would be reasonable that they rode in the direction of the Ferry,"
Percy said, an expression of deepest seriousness chasing away the smile
which had been upon his lips.
"Very well. Since you allow that, there is no need for me to say more.
It is the general belief that Gainey had near to two thousand men with
him, an' think you they will not fight, however much cowardice may be
in their hearts, when next we ride upon them? If these two forces of
Tories come together--and by this time I venture to say the men we
routed in the early dawn have begun to understand how few we are in
numbers--I look to see hot work. Therefore it is I predict that before
arrivin' at Dubose Ferry we shall meet with many of those who so lately
fled before us."
I now realized why the old man looked upon the situation as being grave
in the extreme, and there was no further inclination in my mind to make
sport of his forebodings.
Having learned what it might, perhaps, have been better we did not
know, Percy and I became quite as solemn as was Gavin Witherspoon, and
we three rode on again as if certain some evil fortune was about to
overtake us, neither so much as speaking until half an hour or more had
passed, when we came to a sudden halt.
Our road at this time lay through the bottom-lands, which were covered
with a growth of scrub oaks, and we had heard a noise as of horsemen
forcing their way through the foliage.
This it was which had caused us to halt so suddenly, and I was looking
to my rifle to make certain it was loaded, when Sam Lee came into view.
He was riding a heavily-built iron-gray horse, the very animal I could
have sworn to seeing during the brush with Major Gainey's force. Upon
his face was an expression of deepest satisfaction and joy, which did
not change materially when he saw us.
Percy, quicker than I at such times, cried out for the Tory to halt,
and he wisely obeyed the command, knowing full well his steed would
have no show in a race with such animals as we bestrode, even though
our rifles might not have brought him to a halt.
"Well," he asked, with an evil look upon his face. "Since when have you
begun to stop peaceful travelers?"
"We have not yet commenced," I cried, allowing anger to take possession
of me. "In these times a Tory cannot lay claim to peacefulness, and
it is our purpose to make such prisoners whenever and wherever we find
them."
"And I am a prisoner, eh?" he asked, with not the slightest show of
fear, and I was surprised thereat, because we knew him to be a rank
coward.
"Throw down your musket an' hold up your hands while Percy makes search
for pistols!" Gavin Witherspoon said sternly, for the old man was a
ready comrade in times when quick action became necessary.
Sam Lee obeyed without a word, and after a brief search we discovered
that he had no other weapons than the musket which lay upon the ground.
Still he appeared well satisfied--even pleased.
It angered me yet further, this show of carelessness, and I cried
hastily:
"You were in no such happy mood this morning, when we chased your
friends into the swamp--when less than four hundred men put to flight
two thousand!"
Gavin Witherspoon turned upon me quickly, and with such a show of
temper as caused me to understand in an instant that I had thus given
to the enemy information concerning the size of General Marion's force.
It was too late to recall the words, unfortunately, and Sam, giving no
heed to the old man's show of resentment at my folly, replied to the
words which I had believed would humiliate him:
"The condition of affairs in the Carolinas have changed wonderfully
within the past few days, and we who are loyal inhabitants of the
colony have little to fear from rebels."
Now did I realize that this Tory lad was certain of his ground, else he
would not have dared to speak in such strain, and the result was that
I, rather than our prisoner, grew disheartened.
Gavin Witherspoon also pricked up his ears at this bold speech from the
lad who had heretofore been so cowardly as never to venture an opinion
lest he make trouble for himself, and the old man asked as he advanced
toward the rascal threateningly:
"What is it that has given you such a dose of courage, you Tory cur?"
Sam winced, as if believing Gavin Witherspoon was about to strike
him, and then, understanding an instant later that we were not of his
kidney, who would ill-treat a prisoner, replied with a laugh which
aroused all my anger again:
"Your General Gates with his rag-tag and bob-tail of an army has been
cut to pieces at Camden by Lord Cornwallis! What you are pleased to
call the 'Cause,' is now wiped out from the Carolinas!"
We three sat speechless with dismay, gazing at each other
questioningly, apprehensively, as the young Tory told a story which we
at the time believed to be true, and afterward came to learn that no
part had been exaggerated.
General Gates, who believed himself to be more of a soldier than was
the fact, had moved from Rugely's Mills on the evening of the 15th,
with his entire force, never so much as sending scouts in advance to
learn whether the enemy might be in the vicinity. His raw recruits were
suddenly met by a volley from the British skirmishers, and, retreating
so far as seemed necessary for safety, lay upon their arms until
morning.
When the sun rose any other general than Gates would have known he was
defeated, even before trying the issue. His men, unused to service,
were formed in the swamp with the reserve only a few hundred yards in
the rear of the battle line. Perhaps not one out of ten of these had
ever been under fire, and opposed to them were picked soldiers--the
best to be found in the king's regiments stationed at Charleston and
Camden.
At sunrise General Gates ordered the advance of the Virginia militia,
who were met by the redcoats with such a deadly volley that the
division retreated before more than half of them had discharged their
muskets. The North Carolina militia followed the disgraceful example,
as did also the cavalry, and a charge by the British horse completed
the rout.
Only the Continentals under command of De Kalb held their ground until
further resistance would have been madness, and the battle of Camden
had been half fought, and wholly lost.
No wonder Sam Lee was triumphant.
To us who heard the story it seemed as if his boast that the Cause had
been killed in the Carolinas was neither more nor less than the truth,
and for a moment I fancied it our duty to return without loss of time
to warn General Marion.
Now it may seem strange to whosoever shall read these lines, that we
believed so readily all the Tory told us; but we had good cause for
credulity.
Old soldiers among us--and the men of my mother's family had been in
arms from the time the colonists first began resistance against the
king's oppression--had again and again argued that General Gates was
not a skilful officer, despite his victory at Saratoga.
When it was known that General Marion, who up to the time of taking
command in the Williamsburg district had been only a colonel, was to
leave the staff of Gates, our people predicted a disaster similar to
what it seemed had just occurred.
Therefore, when Sam Lee, liar and coward though he was naturally, gave
us an account of the battle with so much of detail he could not have
invented, we, unfortunately, had no choice but to believe the tale.
It was Gavin Witherspoon who first regained sufficient composure to
understand what should be done, and he soon showed the Tory that,
however hardly our people had been used, it would not avail him under
the present circumstances.
"It seems to me necessary we keep this young cub with us, however
disagreeable the association may be, and do you lads lash him on the
saddle in such fashion that he will not be able to make his escape
without assistance."
Although believing for the moment that we ought to return immediately
to General Marion, I obeyed the old man's order, and now it was that
the look of satisfaction and exultation began to vanish from the
coward's face.
He had counted on our so far losing heart as to make an attempt at
currying favor with him, or, at least, pass him by, and our thus
guarding against the possibility of escape was by no means to his
liking.
"What is to be done?" I asked when the lad was secure, for I now
realized, as did Percy, that Gavin Witherspoon should be given the
command of our squad.
"We shall push on as was at first intended, keeping our wits well about
us, lest we be surprised by others of this fellow's kidney, who are
making haste to join Barfield. After having accomplished that for which
we were sent, if it be possible, there will be time enough to repeat
the disagreeable story."
I am making an overly long story of what should be told in fewer words,
prompted to do so because of the fear which beset me at this time and
caused the matter to seem of more importance than it really was.
We pressed forward two hours or more, Percy and I riding either side of
the prisoner, and Gavin Witherspoon keeping in advance.
Then we were come, as nearly as could be judged, to the vicinity of the
Tory camp, and might no longer with safety use the horses.
Still acting under Gavin Witherspoon's command, we picketed our steeds
in the thicket, leaving them and the prisoner to the charge of Percy,
while the old man and I pressed forward to reconnoiter.
This work occupied a full hour, and the time was by no means wasted,
because when it had expired we were well informed as to the number of
Barfield's men.
To the best of our belief there were not less than eight hundred Tories
fairly well entrenched at Dubose Ferry, and Gavin said to me as we
turned to retrace our steps:
"There will be no fighting this night, unless we are driven to it, for
neither General Marion nor Major James, however brave they may be, will
make the attack with such odds against us, particularly while it is
certain this same force of Tories will be reinforced before nightfall
by those whom we drove into the swamp."
A similar thought was in my own mind, and therefore I made no reply.
It was necessary we rejoin our friends before they should have come
so far as to put themselves in a dangerous position, and Gavin and I
hurried back to where we had left Percy.
We had no difficulty in finding the place where we tethered the horses,
and once there the cold sweat of fear broke out upon my forehead.
Percy, and prisoner, and the three horses which we had ridden, were not
to be seen. But for the fact that the gray steed of Sam Lee was feeding
close by, I would have said we had mistaken the location.
Words are not sufficient to describe my condition of mind when this
horrible truth burst upon me. I could not so much as speak; but looked
questioningly at the old man, who said slowly and in a half whisper,
after gazing carefully around:
"The boy has been captured by some of Gainey's cowards who no doubt
are hunting for us at this moment. Sam Lee knew for what purpose we
went ahead, and as a matter of course has given his Tory friends all
possible information."
"Why do we stand here idly?" I cried, regaining speech when the
horrible fact had been put before me in words. "We cannot desert him,
and at whatsoever cost must go in pursuit."
"It is not possible we could compass anything save our own capture,"
Gavin Witherspoon said, speaking slowly, and gripping hard both my
hands as if to give me comfort.
"Surely you will not turn your back upon him," I cried in a fury,
trying to wrench myself from his grasp; "if that cowardly thought be
in your mind you shall go alone, for I had rather face all Barfield's
force single-handed, than have it said I deserted my brother."
"Fair and softly, Robert Sumter, fair and softly. I am not minded to go
back. It is you who shall do that."
"But I will not," and again I strove to release my hands.
"Listen to me, lad, and the sooner the better for your brother's sake,
because I shall hold you here by force until having laid the case
squarely before you. Would you have it told that one of the James
family, on account of his own personal grief, allowed four hundred
brave men to ride on to destruction? Would you have it said that rather
than desert your brother you allowed the men of Williamsburg to face
certain capture or death? Yet that is what must happen unless you are
willing to do as I bid."
"But let me hear what is in your mind, for until then how can I
answer the questions you ask!" and now I was grown more tractable,
understanding that the old man knew better than I what was necessary
both for the safety of Percy, and those who were riding behind us.
"There is but one horse here, and it would be unsafe to set out on
foot. Having had many more years of experience than you, I should be
more capable of following the Tories who have Percy in their keeping,
and having come upon them, if there be a chance for his rescue, ought
to be able to take better advantage of the opportunity than you. Now
this is my plan: Mount the gray horse and ride back until you have met
our friends; tell them what has occurred, and perchance Major James
will send forward ten or twelve experienced woodsmen, who will help me
in what seems little better than a forlorn hope. At all events, the
gentlemen whom we both can trust implicitly will know the situation,
and advise what we may do with honor. In addition to that you will be
spared the pain of confessing in later days that you did what a James
should never do--left your friends to ride blindly into such danger as
has never before come upon men of the Carolinas."
It was not easy to follow this advice, as may well be imagined, and I
spent fully five minutes trying to force myself to do it.
It seemed as if by going back when Percy had been forced to go forward,
I was deserting him, and yet such seeming desertion was necessary to
save, perhaps, the entire Williamsburg district.
"You will return as a brave lad should," the old man said finally, and,
my heart well-nigh bursting with grief, I made reply by mounting the
gray horse.
Not until then did I realize how much Gavin Witherspoon had taken upon
himself.
The old man was voluntarily remaining behind on foot, surrounded by
enemies, in the vain hope that he might by some fortunate accident
rescue Percy, and I knew full well that the chances were as one in a
thousand that it could not be done.
In other words, he was doing little less than delivering himself
into the hands of the enemy and I--I was deserting him as well as my
brother.
"I can't do it, Gavin," I said, making as if to dismount. "It is better
you ride back."
"No, lad. Having once come to a brave decision, hold steadfast, and
forget all else save that the Cause demands the sacrifice, perchance of
your life, and certainly of your feelings. Push the horse at his best
pace, which will be a sorry one at the most, and before many hours have
passed we may grasp hands again; but I solemnly swear not to desert
Percy whatever may come upon me."
I clasped the old man's hand, understanding for the first time in my
life what a friend he was. Then, not daring to so much as speak, I set
the spurs deep into the gray, and he bounded forward with more of life
than I had expected it would be possible for him to show.
The wonder of it all to me is now, while I am writing it down after
so many months have passed, that I was not captured before having
traversed a mile on the backward journey, for I saw nothing, heeded
nothing, thought of nothing save Percy and the brave old man who was
following on his trail.
Heedless alike of friend or foe I rode as if in all the district of
Williamsburg there was not an enemy, and the good God allowed me to
pass through that Tory infested district in safety.
It was no more than two hours past noon when I came upon the advance
guard of our brigade, and five minutes later stood before my uncle and
General Marion, shaking like one in an ague fit.
Those brave soldiers needed not to be told that some disaster had
befallen us. The fact, although not the story, was imprinted plainly on
my face, and Major James dismounted that he might fling his arm around
my shoulders, as he asked softly and tenderly:
"How far beyond here did you leave Percy and Gavin Witherspoon?"
"Within three miles of Dubose Ferry, so nearly as I can say."
"Were you come upon Barfield's force before this thing happened?"
Then it was that I found my tongue, and told him all the sad story,
taking good care however, that both he and the general understood full
well the strength of the enemy as we had found them.
"We will fall upon them as soon as may be," the general cried, and
beckoning to Captain Mouzon he would have given some order but that I
said hurriedly, forgetting my manners, as well I might, after all that
had happened:
"Gavin Witherspoon declared that Major Gainey's men would join
Barfield's force, and should the Williamsburg brigade advance, it would
be only to their capture or death."
"Death is what every soldier must expect, and peradventure it be
delayed until the end comes peacefully, then is he less fortunate,
perhaps, than his fellow. We will ride on, gentlemen, and attack
Barfield as soon as we can come upon him."