Elsie in the South

'Tis life to feel the night wind
That lifts his tossing mane.
A moment in the British camp —
A moment – and away
Back to the pathless forest,
Before the peep of day.

"Grave men there are by broad Santee,
Grave men with hoary hairs,
Their hearts are all with Marion,
For Marion are their prayers.
And lovely ladies greet our band
With kindliest welcoming,
With smiles like those of summer,
With tears like those of spring.
For them we wear these trusty arms,
And lay them down no more
Till we have driven the Briton
Forever from our shore."

"And we did drive the British away – or Marion and his men, and the rest of our brave soldiers did," exclaimed Ned when the recitation of the poem was finished, "didn't they, grandma?"

"Yes, Neddie boy, God helped us to get free and become the great nation which we are to-day; and to him let us give all the glory and the praise."

"Yes, grandma, I know that even those brave and good fighters couldn't have done it if God hadn't helped them. Did Marion live long after the war was over?"

"About a dozen years. He died on the 29th of February, 1795. We are told his last words were, 'Thank God, since I came to man's estate I have never intentionally done wrong to any man.'"

"And is that all the story about him?" asked Ned regretfully.

"Enough for the present, I think," replied his grandma; "when you are older you can read of him in history for yourself. However, some of his work will come in incidentally as I go on with some other historical sketches. I want to tell you something of Mrs. Rebecca Motte – one of the brave and patriotic women living in South Carolina at that time – and the doings of the British and Americans on her estate.

"Mrs. Motte was a rich widow. She had a fine large mansion occupying a commanding position on the road between Charleston and Camden. The British, knowing that she was a patriot, drove her and her family from their home to a farmhouse which she owned, upon a hill north of her mansion, into which they put a garrison of one hundred and fifty men under Captain M'Pherson, a brave British officer.

"Early in May he was joined by a small detachment of dragoons sent from Charleston with despatches for Lord Rawdon. They were about to leave when Marion and Lee, with their troops, were seen upon the height at the farmhouse where Mrs. Motte was now living. So the dragoons remained to give their help in the defense of the fort.

"Lee took position at the farmhouse, and his men, with a fieldpiece which General Greene had sent them, were stationed on the eastern slope of the high plain on which Fort Motte stood. Marion at once threw up a mound and planted the fieldpiece upon it in a position to rake the northern face of the parapet of the fort against which Lee was about to move.

"M'Pherson was without artillery. Between Fort Motte and the height where Lee was posted was a narrow valley which enabled his men to come within a few hundred yards of the fort. From that they began to advance by a parallel – a wide trench – and by the 10th of the month they were so far successful that they felt warranted in demanding a surrender. They sent a summons to M'Pherson, but he gallantly refused to comply.

"That evening our men heard that Lord Rawdon had retreated from Camden, was coming in that direction, and would relieve Fort Motte. The next morning beacon fires could be seen on the high hills of Santee, and that night the besieged were greatly rejoiced to see their gleam on the highest ground of the country opposite Fort Motte. They were delighted, but soon found that they had rejoiced too soon.

"Lee proposed a quicker plan for dislodging them than had been thought of before. Mrs. Motte's mansion, in the center of their works, was covered with a roof of shingles now very dry, as there had been no rain for several days and the heat of the sun had been great. Lee's idea was to set those shingles on fire and so drive the enemy out. He had been enjoying Mrs. Motte's hospitality and her only marriageable daughter was the wife of a friend of his, so he was very loath to destroy her property, but on telling her his plan, he was much relieved to find that she was not only willing, but desirous to serve her country by the sacrifice of her property.

"He then told his plan to Marion and they made haste to execute it. It was proposed to set the roof on fire with lighted torches attached to arrows which should be shot against it. Mrs. Motte, seeing that the arrows the men were preparing were not very good, brought out a fine bow and bundle of arrows which had come from the East Indies, and gave them to Lee.

"The next morning Lee again sent a flag of truce to M'Pherson, the bearer telling him that Rawdon had not yet crossed the Santee, and that immediate surrender would save many lives.

"But M'Pherson still refused, and at noon Nathan Savage, a private in Marion's brigade, shot toward the house several arrows with lighted torches attached. Two struck the dry shingles and instantly a bright flame was creeping along the roof. Soldiers were sent up to knock off the shingles and put out the fire, but a few shots from Marion's battery raked the loft and drove them below. Then M'Pherson hung out a white flag, the Americans ceased firing, the flames were put out, and at one o'clock the garrison surrendered themselves prisoners of war.

"Then Mrs. Motte invited both the American and the British officers to a sumptuous dinner which she had had made ready for them."

Grace Raymond had drawn near and was listening in a very interested way to the story as told by Mrs. Travilla.

"Grandma Elsie," she said as that lady paused in her narrative, "do you remember a little talk between the American and British officers at that dinner of Mrs. Motte's?"

"I am not sure that I do," was the reply. "Can you repeat it for us?"

"I think I can give at least the substance," said Grace. "One of the prisoners was an officer named Captain Ferguson. He was seated near Colonel Horry, one of our American officers. Addressing him, Ferguson said, 'You are Colonel Horry, I presume, sir?' Horry replied that he was and Ferguson went on, 'Well, I was with Colonel Watson when he fought your General Marion on Sampit. I think I saw you there with a party of horse, and also at Nelson's Ferry, when Marion surprised our party at the house. But I was hid in high grass and escaped. You were fortunate in your escape at Sampit, for Watson and Small had twelve hundred men.'

"'If so,' said Horry, 'I certainly was fortunate, for I did not suppose they had more than half that number,' Then Ferguson said, 'I consider myself equally fortunate in escaping at Nelson's Old Field.'

"'Truly you were,' Horry returned sarcastically, 'for Marion had but thirty militia on that occasion,' The other officers at the table could not refrain from laughing. General Greene afterward asked Horry how he came to affront Captain Ferguson, and Horry answered that he affronted himself by telling his own story.'"

"Ah, I think our soldiers were the bravest," was little Elsie's comment upon that anecdote.

"Yes," said her grandma, "probably because they were fighting for liberty and home."

"Please, grandma, tell us another Revolutionary story," pleaded Ned.

"Did you ever hear the story of what Emily Geiger did for the good cause?" asked Grandma Elsie in reply.

"No, ma'am; won't you please tell it?"

"Yes. Emily was the daughter of a German planter in Fairfield District. She was not more than eighteen years old, but very brave. General Greene had an important message to send to Sumter, but because of the danger from the numbers of Tories and British likely to be encountered on the way none of his men seemed willing to take it; therefore he was delighted when this young girl came forward and offered to carry his letter to Sumter. But fearing she might lose it on the way, he made her acquainted with its contents.

"She mounted a fleet horse, crossed the Wateree at the Camden Ferry, and hastened on toward Sumter's camp. On the second day of her journey, while passing through a dry swamp, she was stopped and made prisoner by some Tory scouts, who suspected her because she came from the direction of Greene's army. They took her to a house on the edge of the swamp and shut her up in a room, while they sent for a woman to search her person.

"Emily was by no means willing to have the letter found upon her person, so as soon as left alone she began tearing it up and swallowing it piece by piece. After a while the woman came and searched her carefully, but found nothing to criminate the girl, as the last piece of the letter had already gone down her throat.

"Her captors, now convinced of her innocence, made many apologies and allowed her to go on her way. She reached Sumter's camp, gave him Greene's message, and soon the British under Rawdon were flying before the Americans toward Orangeburg."

"Is that all, grandma?" asked Ned, as Mrs. Travilla paused and glanced up smilingly at Captain Raymond, who now drew near.

"All for the present, Neddie," she replied. "Some other time I may perhaps think of other incidents to give you."

"Ah, mother, so you have been kindly entertaining my children, who are great lovers of stories," remarked the captain. "I hope they have not been too exacting in their entreaties for such amusement?"

"Oh, no," she replied; "they wanted some episodes in the history of the State we are passing, and I have been giving them some account of the gallant deeds of General Marion and others."

"He was a brave, gallant man, was Francis Marion, thoroughly patriotic, and one of the finest characters of that time; a countryman of whom we may well be proud," remarked the captain, speaking with earnestness and enthusiasm; "and with it all he was most humane; a great contrast to some of the British officers who burnt houses, robbed and wronged women and children – rendering them shelterless, stripping them of all clothes except those they wore, not to speak of even worse acts of barbarity. Bancroft tells us that when the British were burning houses on the Little Pedee, Marion permitted his men of that district to go home and protect their wives and families; but that he would not suffer retaliation and wrote with truth, 'There is not one house burned by my orders or by any of my people. It is what I detest, to distress poor women and children.'"

"I am proud of him as one of my countrymen," said Grace. "He was sometimes called 'The swamp Fox,' was he not, papa?"

"Yes; the swamps were his usual place of refuge and camping ground."

"I admire him very much and like to hear about him and all he did for our country," said little Elsie; "but I am glad and thankful that I didn't live in those dreadful war times."

"As you well may be, my dear child," said her father. "We cannot be too thankful for the liberty we enjoy in these days and which was largely won for us by Marion and other brave and gallant patriots of those darker days. They, and our debt of gratitude to them, should never be forgotten or ignored."