* For the details of this sketch I am indebted to the kindness of Dr. Joseph Johnson, of Charleston, who has collected and preserved many interesting anecdotes of the war in South Carolina.
Fruitful in noble spirits were those wild and gloomy times; and woman's high truth and heroic devotion poured a solemn radiance over the dreary and appalling scene of civil war. No pen has recorded the instances innumerable in which her virtues shone conspicuous; they are forgotten by those who enjoy the benefits thus secured; or but a vague recollection remains—or an example is here and there remembered in family tradition. Even to these examples what meagre justice can be done by the few scattered and desultory anecdotes which must take the place of a complete history!
Living in the midst of the storm and struggle, and bearing more than her own share of the terrible trials which fell to woman's lot, Mrs. Richardson afforded an example of modest heroism, and of humble, cheerful faith. Her residence was in Clarendon, Sumter District. She was the daughter of Captain John Nelson, a native of Ireland, who married Miss Brownson, of South Carolina. The ferry over the Santee River, established and kept for several years by them, is still called Nelson's Ferry; and many of their descendants continue to live on both sides of the river. It is said that Lord Cornwallis, on his march into the interior, after the fall of Charleston, established his head-quarters at this ferry, at the house of the widow Nelson. She received from him an assurance that her property should be protected. When a large quantity of plate which she had buried for security was discovered and claimed as a prize by the captors, she reminded his lordship of his promise; but he refused to order the restoration of the plate, saying that the protection he had pledged extended only to things above ground!
Dorcas was married at the age of twenty, in 1761, and removed to her husband's plantation, situated about twenty miles further up the river, on the east side, near the junction of the Congaree and Wateree. In this home of peace, contentment and abundance, she enjoyed all the comforts of southern country life among the prosperous class, till the outburst of that storm in which the fortunes and happiness of so many patriots were wrecked.
At the commencement of the war Richard Richardson was captain of a company of militia in the brigade of his father General Richardson; and with him embraced the quarrel of the Colonies, in defence of their chartered rights. Both were zealous, firm, and influential officers. The captain was frequently called out with his company by order of the new government; and his first expedition was against the loyalists in the upper districts, incited by the royal governor, Lord William Campbell. General Richardson commanded, and was aided by Colonel William Thompson which his regiment of regulars called the Rangers. The enemy was dispersed, most of their leaders captured, and the arms and ammunition they had seized recovered. Captain Richardson was appointed with his mounted men to guard the prisoners to Charleston. This occurrence took place at the close of 1775; and the winter having set in earlier than usual with uncommon severity, the young soldiers suffering much from the cold, sleet, and snow, it was called the Snow Campaign.
When the three regiments of regulars were raised and officered in 1775, Captain Richardson and his father were retained in the militia on account of their great popularity and influence; Edward, a younger brother, being appointed captain of the Rangers under Colonel Thompson. A second regiment of riflemen, however, was raised in March of the following year; and Richard Richardson was appointed captain under Colonel Thomas Sumter. From this time, during the six succeeding years, he was able to be very little at home with his family.
At the surrender of Charleston he was taken prisoner with his father and brother. In violation of the terms of capitulation, Richard was sent to a military station on John's Island, where he nearly fell a victim to the small-pox. The British having failed to observe the conditions on which he had surrendered, as soon as he recovered sufficiently to move about, he made his escape; and being disguised by the effects of the disease, returned to the neighborhood of his home, where he concealed himself in the Santee Swamp. This extensive swampland borders the river for many miles, presenting to the view a vast plain of dense woods which seem absolutely impervious. The recesses of those dark thickets, where the trees grow close together, and are interlaced by a luxuriant growth of giant creepers, often afforded hiding-places for the hunted Americans. At this time the British troops had overrun the State; and Colonel Tarleton had made the house of Captain Richardson, with some others, a station for his regiment of cavalry. They lived luxuriously on the abundance of his richly-stocked and well-cultivated plantation; while Mrs. Richardson and her children, it is said, were restricted to a single apartment, and allowed but a scanty share of the provisions furnished from her own stores. Here was an occasion for the exercise of self-denial, that the wants of one dear to her might be supplied. Every day she sent food from her small allowance to her husband in the swamp, by an old and faithful negro, in whose care and discretion she could implicitly trust. She had expected the seizure of her horses and cattle by the British, and had sent Richardson's favorite riding-horse into the swamp for concealment, with a few cattle which she wished to save for future need. Every thing that fell into the enemy's hands was consumed. The horse was shut up in a covered pen in the woods, which had once been used for holding corn; and he thence received the name of Corncrib. He was subsequently killed in the battle of Eutaw.
Mrs. Richardson not only sent provisions to her husband in his place of shelter, but sometimes ventured to visit him, taking with her their little daughter. These stolen meetings were full of consolation to the fugitive soldier. The spot he had chosen for his retreat was a small knoll or elevation in the heart of the swamp, called "John's Island," by way of distinction from another in the neighborhood, occupied by other whigs, which bore the name of "Beech Island." On this many of their initials may still be seen, carved on the bark of the trees.
It was not long before the British had information of Richardson's escape. They naturally concluded that he was somewhere in the vicinity of his family and relatives. A diligent search was instituted; scouts were sent in every direction, and they watched to surprise him, or find some clue to his retreat. In secret and publicly rewards were offered for his apprehension; but without success. One day an officer, caressing the little girl, asked when she had seen her papa; the mother grew pale, but dared not speak, for a short time only had elapsed since the child had been taken on a visit to her father. The thoughtless prattler answered promptly, that she had seen him only a few days before. "And where?" asked the officer, eager to extract information from innocent lips that might betray the patriot. The child replied without hesitation, "On John's Island." The officer knew of no place so called except the large sea island from which Richardson had escaped. After a moment's reflection, he came to the conclusion that the child had been dreaming, relieved the mother's throbbing heart by saying, "Pshaw, that was a long time ago!" It may well be believed that the little telltale was not trusted with another visit to the spot.
Not unfrequently did the officers, in the most unfeeling manner, boast in the presence of the wife, of what they would do to her husband when they should capture him. Once only did she deign the reply, "I do not doubt that men who can outrage the feelings of a woman by such threats, are capable of perpetrating any act of treachery and inhumanity towards a brave but unfortunate enemy. But conquer or capture my husband, if you can do so, before you boast the cruelty you mean to mark your savage triumph! And let me tell you, meanwhile, that some of you, it is likely, will be in a condition to implore his mercy, before he will have need to supplicate, or deign to accept yours." This prediction was literally verified in more than one instance during the eventful remainder of the war.
Tarleton himself was frequently present during these scenes, apparently a pleased, though generally a silent spectator. He would remark at times, in the way of self-vindication, "that he commiserated the trials, and wondered at the endurance, of this heroic woman; but that his sanction of such proceedings was necessary to the success of His Majesty's cause." Weak cause, indeed, that was constrained to wring the cost of its maintenance from the bleeding hearts of wives and mothers!
On one occasion some of the officers displayed in the sight of Mrs. Richardson, their swords reeking with blood—probably that of her cattle—and told her it was the blood of Captain Richardson, whom they had killed. At another time they brought intelligence that he had been taken and hanged. In this state of cruel suspense she sometimes remained for several successive days, unable to learn the fate of her husband, and not knowing whether to believe or distrust the horrible tales brought to her ears.
One day, when the troops were absent on some expedition, Captain Richardson ventured on a visit to his home. A happy hour was it to the anxious wife and faithful domestics, when they could greet him once more in his own mansion. But before he thought of returning to his refuge in the forest, a patrolling party of the enemy appeared unexpectedly at the gate. Mrs. Richardson's presence of mind and calm courage were in instant requisition, and proved the salvation of the hunted patriot. Seeing the British soldiers about to come in, she pretended to be intently busy about something in the front door, and stood in the way, retarding their entrance. The least appearance of agitation or fear—the least change of color—might have betrayed all by exciting suspicion. But with a self-control as rare as admirable, she hushed even the wild beating of her heart, and continued to stand in the way, till her husband had time to retire through the back door, into the swamp near at hand. The brave captain was not idle in his seclusion; but collecting around him the whigs of his acquaintance who remained firm in their devotion to their native land, he trained them daily in cavalry exercise. When Tarleton ravaged the plantation and burnt the dwelling of his deceased father, General Richardson, he passed so near the ruins as to see the extent of the desolation. General Marion happened at that time to be in a very critical situation, and unaware of the great superiority of the enemy's force close at hand. The gallant Richardson hastened to his aid; joined him, and conducted the retreat of his army, which was immediately commenced and successfully executed. The British were not long in discovering that the captain had joined the forces of Marion; and their deportment to his wife was at once changed. One and all professed a profound respect for her brave and worthy husband, whose services they were desirous of securing. They endeavored to obtain her influence to prevail on him to join the royal army, by promises of pardon, wealth, and honorable promotion. The high-spirited wife treated all such offers with the contempt they deserved, and refused to be made instrumental to their purposes. They then despatched his brother Edward, who was a prisoner on parole upon the adjoining plantation, to be the bearer of their offers. By him Mrs. Richardson also sent a message to her husband. It was to assure him that she did not join in British solicitations; that she and her children were well, and provided with abundance of everything necessary for their comfort. Thus with heroic art did she conceal the privations and wants she was suffering, lest her husband's solicitude for her and his family might tempt him to waver from strict obedience to the dictates of honor and patriotism.
Edward went as directed to the American camp, took his brother into Marion's presence, and there faithfully delivered both messages with which he had been charged. The specious offers from the enemy were of course rejected, and the messenger, conceiving himself absolved from his parole by the treatment he had received, remained with Marion till the termination of hostilities in the State.
Several times after this did Richard place his life in peril to visit his amiable family. Hearing that Tarleton's troop had been ordered away from his plantation, he obtained permission to go thither for a short time. He arrived in safety; but had been seen on his way by a loyalist. A party of them was immediately assembled, and was soon to be seen drawn up in front of his house. Corncrib, the faithful steed, was hitched outside the gate; his master hastily came forth, leaped on him, and galloping up the avenue, where the enemy were posted, passed through the midst of them without receiving either a shot or a sabre wound. Just as he passed their ranks, one of his well-known neighbors fired at him, but missed the aim. All this took place in the sight of his terrified family, who often afterwards described his danger and providential escape. His wife could only account for this by conjecturing that the party had determined to take Richardson alive, and thus claim the reward offered for his apprehension; and that when in their midst, they could not shoot him without the risk of killing some of their comrades. His daring gallantry entirely disconcerted them, and saved his life.
Some time after this, he again asked the indulgence of a visit to his family; but General Marion in granting it, mindful of the danger he had before encountered, insisted that he should be accompanied by an escort. The party had scarcely reached the house of Richardson, when, as before, a large body of British and tories was seen advancing rapidly down the avenue, eager to surprise their intended victims. To remount in all haste their wearied steeds, and rush down the bank at the rear of the house seeking concealment in the swamp, offered the only chance for escape. In this they all succeeded, except a young man named Roberts, with whom Mrs. Richardson was well acquainted, and who was taken prisoner. In vain did she intercede for him with the British officers, and with streaming eyes implore them to spare the life of the unfortunate youth. They hanged him on a walnut tree only a few paces from her door, and compelled her to witness the revolting spectacle! When she complained with tears of anguish, of this cruelty to herself, and barbarity towards one who had offended by risking his life in defence of her husband, they jeeringly told her they "would soon have him also, and then she should see him kick like that fellow." To such atrocities could the passions of brutalized men lead them, even in an age and nation that boasted itself the most enlightened on earth!
When peace returned to shed blessings over the land, Mrs. Richardson continued to reside in the same house, with her family. Tarleton and his troopers had wasted the plantation, and destroyed everything movable about the dwelling; but the buildings had been spared, because they were spacious, and afforded a convenient station for the British, about midway between Camden and Fort Watson on Scott's Lake. Colonel Richardson, who had been promoted for his meritorious service in the field, cheerfully resumed the occupations of a planter. His circumstances were much reduced by the chances of war; but a competence remained, which he and his wife enjoyed in tranquillity and happiness, surrounded by affectionate relatives and friendly neighbors. Of their ten children, four died young; the rest married and reared families.
Mrs. Richardson survived her husband many years, and died at the advanced age of ninety-three, in 1834. She was remarkable throughout life for the calm judgment, fortitude, and strength of mind, which had sustained her in the trials she suffered during the war, and protected her from injury or insult when surrounded by a lawless soldiery. To these elevated qualities she united unostentatious piety, and a disposition of uncommon serenity and cheerfulness. Her energy and consolations, through the vicissitudes of life, were derived from religion; it was her hope and triumph in the hour of death.
The daring exploit of two women in Ninety-Six District, furnishes an instance of courage as striking as any remembered among the traditions of South Carolina. During the sieges of Augusta and Cambridge, the patriotic enthusiasm that prevailed among the people prompted to numerous acts of personal risk and sacrifice. This spirit, encouraged by the successes of Sumter and others over the British arms, was earnestly fostered by General Greene, whose directions marked at least the outline of every undertaking. In the efforts made to strike a blow at the invader's power, the sons of the Martin family were among the most distinguished for active service rendered, and for injuries sustained at the enemy's hands. The wives of the two eldest, during their absence, remained at home with their mother-in-law. One evening intelligence came to them that a courier, conveying important despatches to one of the upper stations, was to pass that night along the road, guarded by two British officers. They determined to waylay the party, and at the risk of their lives, to obtain possession of the papers. For this purpose the two young women disguised themselves in their husbands' clothes, and being well provided with arms, took their station at a point on the road which they knew the escort must pass. It was already late, and they had not waited long before the tramp of horses was heard in the distance. It may be imagined with what anxious expectation the heroines awaited the approach of the critical moment on which so much depended. The forest solitude around them, the silence of night, and the darkness, must have added to the terrors conjured up by busy fancy. Presently the courier appeared, with his attendant guards. As they came close to the spot, the disguised women leaped from their covert in the bushes, presented their pistols at the officers, and demanded the instant surrender of the party and their despatches. The men were completely taken by surprise, and in their alarm at the sudden attack, yielded a prompt submission. The seeming soldiers put them on their parole, and having taken possession of the papers, hastened home by a short cut through the woods. No time was lost in sending the important documents by a trusty messenger to General Greene. The adventure had a singular termination. The paroled officers, thus thwarted in their mission, returned by the road they had taken, and stopping at the house of Mrs. Martin, asked accommodation as weary travellers, for the night. The hostess inquired the reason of their returning so soon after they had passed. They replied by showing their paroles, saying they had been taken prisoners by two rebel lads. The ladies rallied them upon their want of intrepidity. "Had you no arms?" was asked. The officers answered that they had arms, but had been suddenly taken off their guard, and were allowed no time to use their weapons. They departed the next morning, having no suspicion that they owed their capture to the very women whose hospitality they had claimed.
The mother of this patriotic family was a native of Caroline County, Virginia. Her name was Elizabeth Marshall, and she was probably of the same family with Chief Justice Marshall, as she belonged to the same neighborhood. After her marriage to Abram Martin, she removed to his settlement bordering on the Indian nation, in Ninety-Six, now Edgefield District, South Carolina. The country at that time was sparsely settled, most of its inhabitants being pioneers from other States, chiefly from Virginia; and their neighborhood to the Indians had caused the adoption of some of their savage habits. The name Edgefield is said to have been given because it was at that period the edge or boundary of the respectable settlers and their cultivated fields. Civilization, however, increased with the population; and in the time of the Revolution, Ninety-Six was among the foremost in sending into the field its quota of hardy and enterprising troops, to oppose the British and their savage allies.
At the commencement of the contest, Mrs. Martin had nine children, seven of whom were sons old enough to bear arms. These brave young men, under the tuition and example of their parents, had grown up in attachment to their country, and ardently devoted to its service, were ready on every occasion to encounter the dangers of border warfare. When the first call for volunteers sounded through the land, the mother encouraged their patriotic zeal. "Go, boys," she said; "fight for your country! fight till death, if you must, but never let your country be dishonored. Were I a man I would go with you."
At another time, when Colonel Cruger commanded the British at Cambridge, and Colonel Browne in Augusta, several British officers stopped at her house for refreshment; and one of them asked how many sons she had. She answered—eight; and to the question, where they all were, replied promptly: "Seven of them are engaged in the service of their country."
"Really, madam," observed the officer, sneeringly, "you have enough of them."
"No sir," said the matron, proudly, "I wish I had fifty."
Her house in the absence of the sons was frequently exposed to the depredations of the tories. On one occasion they cut open her feather beds, and scattered the contents. When the young men returned shortly afterwards, their mother bade them pursue the marauders. One of the continental soldiers having been left at the house badly wounded, Mrs. Martin kindly attended and nursed him till his recovery. A party of loyalists who heard of his being there, came with the intention of taking his life; but she found means to hide him from their search.
The only daughter of Mrs. Martin, Letitia, married Captain Edmund Wade, of Virginia, who fell with his commander, General Montgomery, at the siege of Quebec. At the time of the siege of Charleston by Sir Henry Clinton, the widow was residing with her mother at Ninety-Six. Her son Washington Wade was then five years old, and remembers many occurrences connected with the war. * The house was about one hundred miles in a direct line west of Charleston. He recollects walking in the piazza on a calm evening, with his grandmother. A light breeze blew from the east; and the sound of heavy cannon was distinctly heard in that direction. **
* Most of the particulars relating to this family were furnished by him to Dr. Johnson, of Charleston, who kindly communicated them to me, with additional ones obtained from other branches of the family.
** This statement has been repeatedly confirmed by others in the neighborhood.
The sound of cannon heard at that time, and in that part of the State, they knew must come from the besieged city. As report after report reached their ears, the agitation of Mrs. Martin increased. She knew not what evils might be announced; she knew not but the sound might be the knell of her sons, three of whom were then in Charleston. Their wives were with her, and partook of the same heart-chilling fears. They stood still for a few minutes, each wrapped in her own painful and silent reflections, till the mother at length, lifting her hands and eyes towards heaven—exclaimed fervently:—"Thank God, they are the children of the Republic!"
Of the seven patriot brothers, six were spared through all the dangers of partisan warfare in the region of the "dark and bloody ground." The eldest, William M. Martin, was a captain of artillery; and after having served with distinction in the sieges of Savannah and Charleston, was killed at the siege of Augusta, just after he had obtained a favorable position for his cannon, by elevating it on one of the towers constructed by General Pickens. It is related that not long after his death, a British officer passing to Fort Ninety-Six, then in possession of the English, rode out of his way to gratify his hatred to the whigs by carrying the fatal news to the mother of this gallant young man. He called at the house, and asked Mrs. Martin if she had not a son in the army at Augusta. She replied in the affirmative. "Then I saw his brains blown out on the field of battle," said the monster, who anticipated his triumph in the sight of a parent's agony. But the effect of the startling announcement was other than he expected. Terrible as was the shock, and aggravated by the ruthless cruelty with which her bereavement was made known, no woman's weakness was suffered to appear. After listening to the dreadful recital, the only reply made by this American dame was, "He could not have died in a nobler cause!" The evident chagrin of the officer as he turned and rode away, is still remembered in the family tradition.
This eldest son married Grace Waring, of Dorchester, when she was but fourteen years of age. She was the daughter of Benjamin Waring, who afterwards became one of the earliest settlers of Columbia when established as the seat of government in the State. The principles of the Revolution had been taught her from childhood; and her efforts to promote its advancement were joined with those of her husband's family. She was one of the two who risked their lives to seize upon the despatches, as above related. Her husband's untimely death left her with three young children—two sons and a daughter; but she never married again.
Her companion in that daring and successful enterprise was the wife of Barkly Martin, another son.
She was Rachel Clay, the daughter of Henry Clay, Jun., of Mecklenburg County, Virginia, and first cousin to Henry Clay, of Kentucky. She is said to be still living in Bedford County, Tennessee; is about eighty-six years of age, and never had any children. Her sister married Matthew, another of the brothers, and removed to Tennessee. Their family was large and of high respectability. One of the sons is the Hon. Barkly Martin, late member of Congress from that State. His father lived to a great age, and died in Tennessee in October, 1847, about seventy-six years after his first battle-field. The descendants of the other brothers are numerous and respectable in the different southern States.
A tribute is due to the fortitude of those who suffered when the war swept with violence over Georgia. After Colonel Campbell took possession of Savannah in 1778, the whole country was overrun with irregular marauders, wilder and more ruthless than the Cossacks of the Don. As many of the inhabitants as could retire from the storm did so, awaiting a happier time to renew the struggle. One of those who had sought refuge in Florida, was Mr. Spalding, whose establishments were on the river St. John's. He had the whole Indian trade from the Altamaha to the Apalachicola. His property, with his pursuits, was destroyed by the war; yet his heart was ever with his countrymen, and the home he had prepared for his wife was the refuge of every American prisoner in Florida. The first Assembly that met in Savannah re-called him and restored his lands; but could not give back his business, nor secure the debts due; while his British creditors, with their demands for accumulated interest, pressed upon the remnant of his fortune. Under these adverse circumstances, and distressed on account of the losses of her father and brothers, who had taken arms in the American cause, Mrs. Spalding performed her arduous duties with a true woman's fidelity and tenderness. She followed her husband with her child, when flight became necessary; and twice during the war traversed the two hundred miles between Savannah and St. John's River in an open boat, with only black servants on board, when the whole country was a desert, without a house to shelter her and her infant son. The first of these occasions was when she visited her father and brothers while prisoners in Savannah; the second, when in 1782, she went to congratulate her brothers and uncle on their victory. This lady was the daughter of Colonel William McIntosh, and the niece of General Lachlan McIntosh. Major Spalding, of Georgia, is her son.
Mrs. Spalding's health was seriously impaired by the anxieties endured during the struggle, and many years afterwards it was deemed necessary for her to try the climate of Europe. In January, 1800, she, with her son and his wife, left Savannah in a British ship of twenty guns, with fifty men, built in all points to resemble a sloop of war, without the appearance of a cargo. When they had been out about fifteen days, the captain sent one morning at daylight, to request the presence of two of his gentlemen passengers on deck. A large ship, painted black and showing twelve guns on a side, was seen to windward, running across their course. She was obviously a French privateer. The captain announced that there was no hope of out-sailing her, should their course be altered; nor would there be hope in a conflict, as those ships usually carried one hundred and fifty men. Yet he judged that if no effort were made to shun the privateer, the appearance of his ship might deter from an attack. The gentlemen were of the same opinion. Mr. Spalding, heart-sick at thought of the perilous situation of his wife and mother, and unwilling to trust himself with an interview till the crisis was over, requested the captain to go below and make what preparation he could for their security. After a few minutes' absence the captain returned to describe a most touching scene. Mrs. Spalding had placed her daughter-in-law and the other inmates of the cabin for safety in the two state-rooms, filling the berths with cots and bedding from the outer cabin. She had then taken her own station beside the scuttle, which led from the outer cabin to the magazine, with two buckets of water. Having noticed that the two cabin boys were heedless, she had determined herself to keep watch over the magazine. She did so till the danger was past. The captain took in his light sails, hoisted his boarding nettings, opened his ports, and stood on upon his course. The privateer waited till the ship was within a mile, then fired a gun to windward, and stood on her way. This ruse preserved the ship. The incident may serve to show the spirit of this matron, who also bore her high part in the perils of the Revolution.
The portion of South Carolina near the frontier, watered by the Pacolet, the Tyger, and the Ennoree, comprising Spartanburg and Union Districts, witnessed many deeds of violence and blood, and many bold achievements of the hardy partisans. It could also boast its full complement of women whose aid in various ways was of essential service to the patriots. So prevalent was loyalism in the darkest of those days, so bitter was the animosity felt towards the whigs, and so eager the determination to root them from the soil, that the very recklessness of hate gave frequent opportunities for the betrayal of the plans of their enemies. Often were the boastings of those who plotted some midnight surprise, or some enterprise that promised rare pillage—uttered in the hearing of weak and despised women—unexpectedly turned into wonder at the secret agency that had disconcerted them, or execrations upon their own folly. The tradition of the country teems with accounts of female enterprise in this kind of service, very few instances of which were recorded in the military journals.
The patriots were frequently indebted for important information to one young girl, fifteen or sixteen years old at the commencement of the war. This was Dicey, the daughter of Solomon Langston of Laurens District. He was in principle a stout liberty man, but incapacitated by age and infirmities from taking any active part in the contest. His son was a devoted patriot, and was ever found in the field where his services were most needed. He had his home in the neighborhood, and could easily receive secret intelligence from his sister, who was always on the alert. Living surrounded by loyalists, some of whom were her own relatives, Miss Langston found it easy to make herself acquainted with their movements and plans, and failed not to avail herself of every opportunity to do so, and immediately to communicate what she learned to the whigs on the other side of the Ennoree River. At length suspicion of the active aid she rendered was excited among the tory neighbors. Mr. Langston was informed that he would be held responsible thenceforward, with his property, for the conduct of his daughter. The young girl was reproved severely, and commanded to desist from her patriotic treachery. For a time she obeyed the parental injunction; but having heard by accident that a company of loyalists, who on account of their ruthless cruelty had been commonly called the "Bloody Scout," intent on their work of death, were about to visit the "Elder settlement" where her brother and some friends were living, she determined at all hazards to warn them of the intended expedition. She had none in whom to confide; but was obliged to leave her home alone, by stealth, and at the dead hour of night. Many miles were to be traversed, and the road lay through woods, and crossed marshes and creeks, where the conveniences of bridges and foot-logs were wanting. She walked rapidly on, heedless of slight difficulties; but her heart almost failed her when she came to the banks of the Tyger—a deep and rapid stream, which there was no possibility of crossing except by wading through the ford. This she knew to be deep at ordinary times, and it had doubtless been rendered more dangerous by the rains that had lately fallen. But the thought of personal danger weighed not with her, in comparison to the duty she owed her friends and country. Her momentary hesitation was but the shrinking of nature from peril encountered in darkness and alone, when the imagination conjures up a thousand appalling ideas, each more startling than the worst reality. Her strong heart battled against these, and she resolved to accomplish her purpose, or perish in the attempt. She entered the water; but when in the middle of the ford, became bewildered, and knew not which direction to take. The hoarse rush of the waters, which were up to her neck—the blackness of the night—the utter solitude around her—the uncertainty lest the next step should ingulph her past help, confused her; and losing in a degree her self-possession, she wandered for some time in the channel without knowing whither to turn her steps. But the energy of a resolute will, under the care of Providence, sustained her. Having with difficulty reached the other side, she lost no time in hastening to her brother, informed him and his friends of the preparations made to surprise and destroy them, and urged him to send his men instantly in different directions to arouse and warn the neighborhood. The soldiers had just returned from a fatiguing excursion, and complained that they were faint from want of food. The noble girl, not satisfied with what she had done at such risk to herself, was ready to help them still further by providing refreshment immediately. Though wearied, wet, and shivering with cold, she at once set about her preparations. A few boards were taken from the roof of the house, a fire was kindled with them, and in a few minutes a hoe-cake, partly baked, was broken into pieces, and thrust into the shot pouches of the men. Thus provisioned, the little company hastened to give the alarm to their neighbors, and did so in time for all to make their escape. The next day, when the "scout" visited the place, they found no living enemy on whom to wreak their vengeance.
At a later period of the war, the father of Miss Langston incurred the displeasure of the loyalists in consequence of the active services of his sons in their country's cause. They were known to have imbibed their principles from him; and he was marked out as an object of summary vengeance. A party came to his house with the desperate design of putting to death all the men of the family. The sons were absent; but the feeble old man, selected by their relentless hate as a victim, was in their power. He could not escape or resist; and he scorned to implore their mercy. One of the company drew a pistol, and deliberately levelled it at the breast of Langston. Suddenly a wild shriek was heard; and his young daughter sprang between her aged parent and the fatal weapon. The brutal soldier roughly ordered her to get out of the way, or the contents of the pistol would be instantly lodged in her own heart. She heeded not the threat, which was but too likely to be fulfilled the next moment. Clasping her arms tightly round the old man's neck, she declared that her own body should first receive the ball aimed at his heart! There are few human beings, even of the most depraved, entirely insensible to all noble and generous impulses. On this occasion the conduct of the daughter, so fearless, so determined to shield her father's life by the sacrifice of her own, touched the heart even of a member of the "Bloody Scout." Langston was spared; and the party left the house filled with admiration at the filial affection and devotion they had witnessed.
At another time the heroic maiden showed herself as ready to prevent wrong to an enemy as to her friends. Her father's house was visited by a company of whigs, who stopped to get some refreshment, and to feed their wearied horses. In the course of conversation one of them mentioned that they were going to visit a tory neighbor, for the purpose of seizing his horses. The man whose possessions were thus to be appropriated had been in general a peaceful citizen; and Mr. Langston determined to inform him of the danger in which his horses stood of having their ownership changed. Entering cordially into her father's design, Miss Langston set off immediately to carry the information. She gave it in the best faith; but just before she started on her return home, she discovered that the neighbor whom she had warned was not only taking precautions to save his property, but was about to send for the captain of a tory band not far distant, so that the "liberty men" might be captured when intent on their expedition, before they should be aware of their danger. It was now the generous girl's duty to perform a like friendly act towards the whigs. She lost no time in conveying the intelligence, and thus saved an enemy's property, and the lives of her friends.
Her disregard of personal danger, where service could be rendered, was remarkable. One day, returning from a whig neighborhood in Spartanburg District, she was met by a company of loyalists, who ordered her to give them some intelligence they desired respecting those she had just left. She refused; whereupon the captain of the band held a pistol to her breast, and ordered her instantly to make the disclosures, or she should "die in her tracks." Miss Langston only replied, with the cool intrepidity of a veteran soldier: "Shoot me if you dare! I will not tell you," at the same time opening a long handkerchief which covered her neck and bosom, as if offering a place to receive the contents of the weapon. Incensed by her defiance, the officer was about to fire, when another threw up his hand, and saved the courageous girl's life.
On one occasion, when her father's house was visited on a plundering expedition by the noted tory Captain Gray with his riflemen, and they had collected and divided every thing they thought could be of use, they were at some loss what to do with a large pewter basin. At length the captain determined on taking that also, jeeringly remarking, "it will do to run into bullets to kill the rebels."
"Pewter bullets, sir," answered Miss Langston, "will not kill a whig."
"Why not?" inquired Captain Gray. "It is said, sir," replied she, "that a witch can be shot only with a silver bullet; and I am sure the whigs are more under the protection of Providence." At another time when a company of the enemy came to the house they found the door secured. To their demand for admission and threats of breaking down the door, Miss Langston answered by sternly bidding them begone. Her resolute language induced the company to "hold a parley;" and the result was, that they departed without further attempt to obtain an entrance.
One more anecdote is given to illustrate her spirit and fearlessness. Her brother James had left a rifle in her care, which she was to keep hid till he sent for it. He did so, by a company of "liberty men," who were to return by his father's dwelling. On arriving at the house, one of them asked the young girl for the gun. She went immediately, and brought it; but as she came towards the soldiers, the thought struck her that she had neglected to ask for the countersign agreed upon between her brother and herself. Advancing more cautiously—she observed to them that their looks were suspicious; that for aught she knew they might be a set of tories; and demanded the countersign. One of the company answered that it was too late to make conditions; the gun was in their possession, and its holder, too. "Do you think so," cried she, cocking it, and presenting the muzzle at the speaker. "If the gun is in your possession, take charge of her!" Her look and attitude of defiance showed her in earnest; the countersign was quickly given; and the men, laughing heartily, pronounced her worthy of being the sister of James Langston.
After the war was ended, Miss Langston married Thomas Springfield, of Greenville, South Carolina. She died in Greenville District, a few years since. Of her numerous descendants then living, thirty-two were sons and grandsons capable of bearing arms, and ready at any time to do so in the maintenance of that liberty which was so dear to the youthful heart of their ancestor. *
The recollection of the courage and patriotism of Mrs. Dillard is associated with the details of a battle of considerable importance, which took place in Spartanburg District, at the Green Spring, near Berwick's iron works. The Americans here gained great honor. Colonel Clarke, of the Georgia volunteers, joined with Captains McCall, Liddle, and Hammond, in all about one hundred and ninety-eight men—having received intelligence that a body of tory militia, stated to be from two to five hundred, commanded by Colonel Ferguson, were recruiting for the horse service—determined to attempt to rout them. **
* The preceding anecdotes were furnished by. Hon. B. F. Perry, of Greenville, South Carolina, who received them from one of Mrs. Springfield's family.
** Mills' Statistics of South Carolina, p. 738.
They marched accordingly; and hearing that a scouting party was in advance of Ferguson's station, prepared to give them battle. Colonel Clarke, with his forces, encamped for the night at Green Spring.
On that day the Americans had stopped for refreshment at the house of Captain Dillard, who was with their party as a volunteer. They had been entertained by his wife with milk and potatoes—the simple fare which those hardy soldiers often found it difficult to obtain. The same evening Ferguson and Dunlap, with a party of tories, arrived at the house. They inquired of Mrs. Dillard whether Clarke and his men had not been there; what time they had departed; and what were their numbers? She answered that they had been at the house; that she could not guess their numbers; and that they had been gone a long time. The officers then ordered her to prepare supper for them with all possible despatch. They took possession of the house, and took some bacon to be given to their men. Mrs. Dillard set about the preparations for supper. In going backwards and forwards from the kitchen, she overheard much of their conversation. It will be remembered that the kitchens at the South are usually separate from the dwelling-houses. The doors and windows of houses in the country being often slightly constructed, it is also likely that the loose partitions afforded facilities for hearing what might be said within. Besides, the officers probably apprehended no danger from disclosing their plans in the presence of a lonely woman.
She ascertained that they had determined to surprise Clarke and his party; and were to pursue him as soon as they had taken their meal. She also heard one of the officers tell Ferguson he had just received the information that the rebels, with Clarke, were to encamp that night at the Great Spring. It was at once resolved to surprise and attack them before day. The feelings may be imagined with which Mrs. Dillard heard this resolution announced. She hurried the supper, and as soon as it was placed upon the table, and the officers had sat down, slipped out by a back way. Late and dark as it was, her determination was to go herself and apprize Clarke of his danger, in the hope of being in time for him to make a safe retreat; for she believed that the enemy were too numerous to justify a battle.
She went to the stable, bridled a young horse, and without saddle, mounted and rode with all possible speed to the place described. It was about half an hour before day when she came in full gallop to one of the videttes, by whom she was immediately conducted to Colonel Clarke. She called to the colonel, breathless with eagerness and haste, "Be in readiness either to fight or run; the enemy will be upon you immediately, and they are strong!"
In an instant every man was up, and no moments were lost in preparing for action. The intelligence came just in time to put the whigs in readiness. Ferguson had detached Dunlap with two hundred picked mounted men, to engage Clarke and keep him employed till his arrival. These rushed in full charge into the American camp; but the surprise was on their part. They were met hand to hand, with a firmness they had not anticipated. Their confusion was increased by the darkness, which rendered it hard to distinguish friend from foe. The battle was warm for fifteen or twenty minutes, when the tories gave way. They were pursued nearly a mile, but not overtaken. Ferguson came "too late for the frolic;" the business being ended. Clarke and his little band then returned to North Carolina for rest and refreshment; for the whole of this enterprise was performed without one regular meal, and without regular food for their horses.
Mrs. Angelica Nott, widow of the late Judge Nott, of South Carolina, remembers some illustrative incidents which occurred in the section where she resided with her aunt, Mrs. Potter, near the Grindal Shoal, a little south of Pacolet River. The whig population in this portion of the State, were exposed during part of 1780 and 1781 to incredible hardships. The breezes of fortune which had fanned into life the expiring embers of opposition to English tyranny, had been so variable that the wavering hopes of the people were often trembling on the verge of extinction. The reverses of the British arms had exasperated the loyalists, and embittered the enmity felt towards the stubborn people who refused to be conquered. Such was the state of feeling when the destiny of the South was committed to the hands of a soldier of consummate genius, in whom the trust of all was implicitly placed.
When Tarleton was on his march against Morgan, just before their encounter at the Cowpens, a party of loyalists came to the place where Mrs. Potter lived, and committed some depredations. They burned the straw covering from a rude hut, in which the family lodged, while a relative ill of the smallpox occupied the house. Mrs. Potter and her children had built this lodge of rails, for their temporary accommodation. The soldiers attempted to take off her wedding-ring, which, as it had been worn for years, became imbedded under the skin, in the effort to force it from her finger. They swore it should be cut off, but finally desisted from the attempt. On the same march, Tarleton encamped at the house of John Beckham, whose wife was the sister of Colonel Henderson of the continental army. Mrs. Beckham saw for the first time this renowned officer while standing in her yard, and ordering his men to catch her poultry for supper. She spoke civilly to him, and hastened to prepare supper for him and his suite, as if they had been honored guests. When about to leave in the morning, he ordered the house to be burnt, after being given up to pillage, but on her remonstrance, recalled the order. All her bedding was taken, except one quilt, which soon shared the same fate. At another time Mrs. Beckham went to Granby, eighty miles distant, for a bushel of salt, which she brought home on the saddle under her. The guinea appropriated for the purchase, was concealed in the hair braided on the top of her head.
Mrs. Potter was visited by the famous tory, Colonel Cunningham, commonly called "Bloody Bill Cunningham," on one occasion, with a party of two hundred and fifty men. They arrived after dark; and as green corn happened to be in season, encamped by one of her fields, fed their horses with the corn, built fires with the rails, and roasted the ears for themselves. At that time, the family lived chiefly on roasted corn, without bread, meat, or salt. Hickory ashes were used, with a small quantity of salt, for preserving beef when it could be had. Leather shoes were replaced by woollen rags sewed round the feet; and of beds or bedding none were left. The beds were generally ripped open by the depredators, the feathers scattered, and the ticking used for tent-cloths. The looms were robbed of cloth found in them; and hence the women of the country resorted to various expedients to manufacture clothing, and preserve it for their own use and that of their friends. A family residing on the Pacolet, built a loom between four trees in the forest, and wove in fair weather, covering the loom and web with cow-hides when it rained.