THE MINUTE BOYS OF SOUTH CAROLINA

AMERICAN HISTORY STORIES FOR BOYS

THE MINUTE BOYS SERIES

The Minute Boys of Lexington The Minute Boys of Bunker Hill

By Edward Stratemeyer

The Minute Boys of the Green Mountains The Minute Boys of the Mohawk Valley The Minute Boys of the Wyoming Valley The Minute Boys of South Carolina The Minute Boys of Long Island

By James Otis

THE MEXICAN WAR SERIES

By Capt. Ralph Bonehill

For the Liberty of Texas With Taylor on the Rio Grande Under Scott in Mexico

DANA ESTES & COMPANY Publishers Estes Press, Summer St., Boston

“‘I WILL TAKE YOUR LIFE AS FORFEIT FOR TREACHERY!’”

(See page 281.)

THE MINUTE BOYS OF SOUTH CAROLINA

A STORY OF “HOW WE BOYS AIDED MARION THE SWAMP FOX”

AS TOLD BY RUFUS RANDOLPH

JAMES OTIS

Illustrated by J. W. F. KENNEDY

BOSTON DANA ESTES & COMPANY PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1907 By Dana Estes & Company

All rights reserved COLONIAL PRESS Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. Boston, U. S. A.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

[v]

FOREWORD

It has always seemed proper to me that he who writes a story should explain to the readers how it came about that he was prompted to tell the tale, for surely there must be a good and sufficient reason for the making of a book, and it also comes to my mind that however dry and uninteresting such an explanation may be, he who reads the story owes it to himself, as well as the author, to learn all he can regarding the facts, however remote, which may pertain to the characters presented, and yet be of such a nature that the author cannot well, without sacrificing his own plans, deviate sufficiently to relate them in the book itself.

Therefore it is that I shall be grateful to the reader if he will set down in his own mind certain passages from history which are quoted below, to the end that he may the better understand why two lads born and bred in Charleston, in the State of South Carolina, left their homes at a time when the cause of liberty appeared to be crushed to earth, and why they followed the desperate ventures of[vi] Francis Marion during his unequal but wondrously successful struggle against an enemy which was bent on trampling into the mire the patriots who strove to rear a country for themselves in the New World.

Shortly after the publication of the story entitled “The Minute Boys of the Mohawk Valley,” a gentleman residing at Charleston sent to me a packet of closely written pages, stained by time, and with the ink so faded that only with difficulty certain portions could be read. I was richly rewarded, however, for the labor spent in reading that which was set down, for I found that the manuscript was neither more nor less than a series of letters connected, evidently at a later date, by memoranda, and all written by one Rufus Randolph, a distant relative of Francis and Gabriel Marion.

To make of the whole a story, such as entertained myself at least, was a trifling task compared with the labor which had been performed by the young writer, and verily it was a labor of love, for while working over the faded pages I came to learn many things concerning that heroic struggle which the “Swamp Fox” made against overwhelming forces bent on devastating the fair colony of South Carolina, and I have done little more in the pages which follow than transcribe his own story.

So much for the reason why “The Minute Boys of South Carolina” has been put into print, and now, because Rufus Randolph failed to set down anything concerning those terrible days after Sir[vii] Henry Clinton captured the city of Charleston, I ask that the following extracts from the historian Lossing’s “Field Book of the Revolution,” a goodly portion of which I have condensed lest one weary with the reading, be studied with some care.

“The fall of Charleston, and loss of Lincoln’s army, paralyzed the Republican strength at the South, and the British commanders confidently believed that the finishing-stroke of the war had been given.”

“Clinton sailed for New York on the fifth of June, leaving Cornwallis in chief command of the British troops at the South. Before his departure, Clinton issued a proclamation, declaring all persons not in military service, who were prisoners at Charleston, released from their paroles, provided they returned to their allegiance as subjects of Great Britain. So far, well; but not the sequel. All persons refusing to comply with this requisition were declared to be enemies and rebels, and were to be treated accordingly. And more; they were required to enroll themselves as militia under the king’s standard. This flagrant violation of the terms of capitulation aroused a spirit of indignant defiance, which proved a powerful lever in overturning the royal power in the South. Many considered themselves released from all the obligations of their paroles, and immediately armed themselves in defence of their homes and country, while others refused to exchange their paroles for any new conditions. The silent influence of eminent citizens

who took this course was now perceived by Cornwallis,[viii] and, in further violation of the conditions of capitulation, he sent many leading men of Charleston as close prisoners to St. Augustine, while a large number of the Continental soldiers were cast into the loathsome prison-ships, and other vessels in the harbor.”

“But when the trumpet-blasts of the conqueror of Burgoyne were heard upon the Roanoke, and the brave hearts of Virginia and North Carolina were gathering around the standard of Gates, the patriots of the South lifted up their heads, and many of them, like Samson rising in strength, broke the feeble cords of ‘paroles’ and ‘protections,’ and smote the Philistines of the crown with mighty energy. Sumter sounded the bugle among the hills on the Catawba and Broad Rivers; Marion’s shrill whistle rang amid the swamps on the Pedee; and Pickens and Clarke called forth the brave sons of liberty upon the banks of the Saluda, the Savannah, the Ogeechee, and the Alatamaha.

“Fortunately for the Republican cause, an accident prevented Marion being among the prisoners when Charleston fell, and he was yet at liberty, having no parole to violate, to arouse his countrymen to make further efforts against the invaders. While yet unable to be active, he took refuge in the swamps upon the Black River, while Governor Rutledge, Colonel Horry, and others, who had escaped the disasters at Charleston, were in North Carolina arousing the people of that State to meet the danger which stood menacing upon its southern border. Marion’s military genius and great bravery[ix] were known to friends and foes, and while the latter sought to entrap him, the former held over him the shield of their vigilance. ‘In the moment of alarm he was sped from house to house, from tree to thicket, from the thicket to the swamp.’”

“It was while in the camp of Gates that Governor Rutledge, who also was there, commissioned Marion a brigadier, and he sped to the district of Williamsburg, between the Santee and Pedee, to lead its rising patriots to the field of active military duties. They had accepted the protection of British power after Charleston was surrendered, in common with their subdued brethren of the low country; but when Clinton’s proclamation was promulgated, making active service for the crown or the penalty of rebellion an alternative, they eagerly chose the latter, and lifted the strong arm-resistance to tyranny. They called Marion to be their leader, and of these men he formed his efficient brigade, the terror of British scouts and outposts. Near the mouth of Lynch’s Creek he assumed the command, and among the interminable swamps upon Snow’s Island, near the junction of that stream with the Great Pedee, he made his chief rendezvous during the greater portion of his independent partisan warfare.”

Having thus refreshed your memory with the facts just given, remember that that which follows is the work of Rufus Randolph, and not of your friend,

James Otis.

[x]

THE MINUTE BOYS OF SOUTH CAROLINA

CHAPTER I GABRIEL AND RUFUS

The king’s forces laid siege to Charleston, in the State of South Carolina, on the very day that Gabriel Marion was sixteen years old, and when I was come to the same age the Continental forces made their first sortie, as I remember full well because of the fact that General Moultre’s brother was then killed. Thus it will be seen that Gabriel was my senior only by fifteen days, for it must be fresh in the minds of every one that Sir Henry Clinton opened fire on Charleston the fifth day of April, in the year of grace 1780; that the Americans made their first sortie on the twentieth; that on the sixth day of May the besiegers completed their third parallel, and on the twelfth the city was in the possession of the king’s troops.

There is no good reason why I should go into details concerning the siege and capture of Charleston, because they are well known to everybody;[12] but I have used the facts as a starting-point of what may prove to be a story such as can be told to lads who shall live after I have gone out of this world. It seems no more than proper to do so, for it was while the British shot and shell were screaming over our heads as we aided in the defence as boys might, that Gabriel Marion, brother of that General Marion whom the minions of the king dubbed “Swamp Fox,” determined to profit by the example which the lads in the eastern States had set us, and once the time should be ripe, band the lads of South Carolina together under the name of Minute Boys.

Many a time, as Gabriel and I staggered here and there under the burden of ammunition for our elders, who had permitted that we take part in the defence to the extent of supplying the different guns with powder and ball,—and so small was our store that we were forced now and again to carry it an exceeding long distance,—many a time, as I have said, while we were thus engaged Gabriel and I turned the matter over in our minds, vowing that as soon as the king’s hirelings had been beaten back, as we had no doubt soon would be the case, the Minute Boys of South Carolina should come into existence as an organization distinct from the regular army.

Warm friends were Gabriel and I, with never a difference between us save when, owing to the fact that my name was Rufus and my hair all too vividly red for my own pleasure, he would persist in calling me William Rufus, giving me the name[13] of that king who was known as “The Red,” and it vexed me sorely at times, because, although not responsible for my personal appearance, the shock of red hair with which nature had endowed me was so conspicuous as to call forth comment from all who saw it for the first time.

It was as if he called me “carrot-top,” when he tacked on to my name Rufus, that of William, because the youngest schoolboy knows that William Rufus’s hair showed out so conspicuous that his soldiers were as prone to follow it into battle, when perchance a lock was exposed beneath his helmet, as they were to rally around his flag.

However, the color of my hair, and what Gabriel Marion might say in sport regarding it, has nothing to do with that which I propose to set down, save that it will serve to show now and again why I lost control of my temper on being greeted by the name of a king.

Gabriel Marion lived with his brother, Francis, who was made lieutenant-colonel at Savannah the year previous to the siege, in St. John’s Parish, but at the time when Clinton appeared off Edisto Inlet, the colonel was ordered to Charleston, and with him came Gabriel who took up his abode in my home, for it was in that fair city I had been born.

As you know, Charleston was surrendered on terms which to some seemed honorable, while others declared them to be humiliating, and then came that proclamation from Sir Henry Clinton which aroused the ire of every person, young or[14] old, male or female, in South Carolina. Following closely upon it, as if it were but the natural sequel, came the arrest of Lieutenant-Governor Gadsen and seventy-seven of the most influential men, thus giving all our people to understand how little of faith we could put in any declaration of those who had invaded our land. After that August morning, when we saw the chief men of the city marched away to the loathsome prison-ships in the harbor, there was but one desire in the hearts of those who hoped to see their State rid of the oppressive yoke which the king had put upon it, and that was to flee to some place where they might act the part they had sworn to act, and each do his full share toward making reprisals, for the victory of the king’s forces had well-nigh crushed out from our breasts the belief that we might make

of the States so lately declared free and independent, a nation of freemen.

I am not minded to go into detail concerning the flight of this family or that from the stricken city, as there is in the story so much of sorrow, or pain, ay, of shame, that it is not well to let the mind rest upon it. Rather should we think of what has been accomplished since, of how we wiped out the disgrace, if disgrace it can be called when our people were whipped through sheer strength of numbers rather than superior bravery or better knowledge of warfare.

Suffice it to say that among those who did steal secretly out of the city, or tried to do so, vowing to avenge the wrongs that had been perpetrated,[15] were Gabriel Marion and I. My mother and invalid father had set off for General Marion’s home on the very day after the capitulation, and I was left to follow my own inclinations so that they had the bent of my father’s advice, which was that, although not a man in years, it was my duty to do a man’s full work in striking off the shackles which the king’s misrule had fastened upon us.

It was not as easy for two stout lads like Gabriel and myself to leave the city as it was for the women, the sick, or the helpless, and before we found an opportunity to give the redcoats the slip, word was brought by a negro, who had contrived to make his way through the British lines with a message of mouth, that General Marion, his broken leg having been healed and he made brigadier-general, had fled to Snow’s Island, where he awaited the coming of those who were eager to continue in arms against the victorious foe.

And now, just a word in regard to the rendezvous, lest some there be who may not understand how an island can be situated inland, or where this particular place is located. In Williamsburg district, where the Great Pedee is joined by Lynch’s Creek, the united streams are divided for a certain distance by a swampy piece of land with here and there solid ground upon it. The rivers come together again at the mouth, thus forming what we call Snow’s Island. Desperate indeed must be the fortune of those who would seek such a refuge, for a guide was necessary in order to lead one safely across the swamp-lands on either side of the river[16] to the few places where a man might lie down without fear of being drowned. The only advantage it could possess was that the enemy might not come upon it readily, and never gain the solid portion of the surrounding country without being piloted by those who knew well the devious passages.

Now you can understand why Gabriel’s brother was dubbed the “Swamp Fox” by those who sought so vainly to entrap him, and you may also have some faint idea of the hardships which we two lads knew must be encountered before we could gain the rendezvous, for more than two-thirds of the journey must be made over morass and swamp not unlike that which I have just been describing.

However, we had little care, time, or thought for the dangers to be encountered, because we were fleeing from that peril which seemed greater than any we could meet, and it was by no means imaginary. We had already seen the chief men of Charleston marched under heavy guard to the prison-ships, where were horrors so great that it would chill the blood of one to describe them, and if Sir Henry Clinton’s forces dared lay hands upon the leading citizens of South Carolina, we knew full well that two lads like ourselves would have but short shrift if peradventure they had cause to suspect us of what they were pleased to call treason.

Our plan, if indeed we had a plan at that time, was to take a boat up Cooper River, thence into the West River to that portion of St. John’s Parish where was located Gabriel’s home, and trust to the[17] chance of getting horses there; strike straight across the country to Gardine’s Ferry, and thence to Snow’s Island as the disposition of the British forces would allow.

Since we could not form a company of Minute Boys very well with but two members, before setting out we cast about for such of our acquaintances as were sufficiently strong in the backbone to permit of their sharing the dangers with us, and the first to whom we unfolded our plan was Archie Gordon.

But few words were necessary to enlist him in this scheme. Although a full year younger than Gabriel and I, he was possessed with the same fever to exact reprisals from the foe as were we, and without waiting until all our half-formed plans should have been detailed, he announced his purpose of joining us, declaring that he was not only ready to set out immediately, but happened to know where we might find a skiff which would be suited to our purpose.

While we were talking with him, Seth Hastings, a lad of seventeen years or thereabouts, came up, and I would have held my peace while he lingered near by, because of ever having distrusted the lad. His shifty eyes, which refused to look squarely upon one; his love of telling a lie when the truth would have served him better; the fact that he would betray one playmate, if opportunity arose, to another in the hope of provoking some small quarrel—all these things combined to make me suspicious of the lad even when he spoke most fairly, and I would[18] almost as soon have gone to the red-coated soldiers with the plan as to have confided it to Seth Hastings.

But Gabriel Marion, who could never see aught of evil in any person save those who wore the king’s livery, welcomed him heartily as he came up, and without waiting to learn if Archie and I were of the mind to enlist this possible recruit, at once acquainted him with the plan, urging that he enroll himself with us as Minute Boys of South Carolina.

It may have been that I was overly suspicious, for perhaps at that moment Seth had no idea of playing the traitor to those whom he called comrades; but I fancied there was in his eyes a gleam of—I know not what to call it, yet the look which was in those shifty orbs disquieted me, and I would have given much had it been possible to recall Gabriel’s incautious words.

They had been spoken, however; Seth Hastings was in possession of our secret, which, if known to the British commander or any of his staff, would have consigned us instantly to the reeking, filthy prison-ships where so many brave hearts were languishing nigh unto death. He knew all our plan, and it was too late to draw back.

While Gabriel argued with him as to why he should join us, I cast about in my mind as to how we might hold him true—how it would be possible to prevent him from betraying us before we had set off on the journey, and therefore it was that by the time Seth had agreed to make one of what we[19] hoped would soon be a company of Minute Boys, I proposed that we start immediately, not waiting for more recruits lest opportunity for leaving the city be lost.

“But we have neither arms nor provisions,” Archie Gordon objected, and it must be remembered that immediately after the surrender of Charleston squads of red-coated soldiers had marched up this street and down that searching every house for weapons and ammunition, seizing upon everything of such nature as could be found.