Tales, Traditions and Romance of Border and Revolutionary Times

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

COLONEL HORRY, OF "MARION'S BRIGADE."

It is much to be regretted that the chronicles of the war of the Revolution in the South are so meager in personal incidents. There can be but one reason for this: the want of a local historian to gather up and preserve in print the details of the contest, ere the actors of those stirring scenes had passed from the stage—for the wild and stirring adventures of "Marion's Men," and of others in North and South Carolina, must have been as full of romance as the heart of the historian could desire.

It is fortunate that one of Marion's officers did wield the pen a little, as well as the sword. Colonel Horry served under General Marion. His adventures were numerous and some of them amusing. He left a manuscript memoir, giving the particulars of some of his exploits, among others the one illustrated in our engraving.

He was brave, and ambitious of distinction. This ambition led him to desire a command of cavalry rather than of infantry. But he was no rider—was several times unhorsed in combat, and was indebted to the fidelity of his soldiers for his safety. On one occasion his escape was more narrow from a different cause. Crossing the swamp at Lynch's Creek, to join Marion, in the dark, and the horse swimming, he encountered the bough of a tree, to which he clung while his horse passed from under him. He was no swimmer, and but for timely assistance from his followers would have been drowned.

Another story is told of him which places him in a scarcely less ludicrous attitude:

He was ordered by Marion to await, in ambush, the approach of a British detachment. The duty was executed with skill: the enemy was completely in his power. But he labored under an impediment in his speech, which we may readily suppose was greatly increased by anxiety and excitement. The word "Fire!" stuck in his throat, as "amen" did in that of Macbeth. The emergency was pressing, but this only increased the difficulty. In vain did he make the attempt. He could say: "Fi—fi—fi!" but he could get no further; the "er" was incorrigible. At length, irritated almost to madness, he exclaimed:

"Shoot, d—n you, shoot! you know what I would say! Shoot, and be d——d to you!"

He was present, and acted bravely, in almost every affair of consequence, in the brigade of Marion. At Quimly, Captain Baxter, a man distinguished by his great strength and courage, as well as size, and by equally great simplicity of character, cried out:

"I am wounded, Colonel!"

"Think no more of it, Baxter," was the answer of Horry, "but stand to your post."

"But I can't stand," says Baxter, "I am wounded a second time."

"Lie down then, Baxter, but quit not your post."

"They have shot me again, Colonel," said the wounded man, "and if I stay any longer here, I shall be shot to pieces."

"Be it so, Baxter, but stir not," was the order, which the brave fellow obeyed, receiving a fourth wound ere the engagement was over.

Colonel Horry and Captain Merritt's Conflict.—Page [15].

Another adventure is thus related by Horry himself: "I was sent," he writes, "by General Marion to reconnoiter Georgetown. I proceeded with a guide through the woods all night. At the dawn of day, I drew near the town. I laid an ambuscade, with thirty men and three officers, near the road. About sunrise a chair appeared with two ladies escorted by two British officers. I was ready in advance with an officer to cut them off, but reflecting that they might escape, and alarm the town, which would prevent my taking greater numbers, I desisted. The officers and chair halted very near me, but soon the chair went on, and the officers galloped in retrograde into the town. Our party continued in ambush, until ten o'clock, A. M. Nothing appearing, and men and horses having eaten nothing for thirty-six hours, we were hungered, and retired to a plantation of my quartermaster's, a Mr. White, not far distant. There a curious scene took place. As soon as I entered the house, four ladies appeared, two of whom were Mrs. White and her daughter. I was asked what I wanted. I answered, food, refreshment. The other two ladies were those whom I had seen escorted by the British officers. They seemed greatly agitated, and begged most earnestly that I would go away, for the family was very poor, had no provisions of any sort—that I knew that they were Whigs, and surely would not add to their distress. So pressing were they for my immediately leaving the plantation, that I thought they had more in view than they pretended. I kept my eyes on Mrs. White, and saw she had a smiling countenance, but said nothing. Soon she left the room, and I left it also and went into the piazza, laid my cap, sword and pistols on the long bench, and walked the piazza;—when I discovered Mrs. White behind the house chimney beckoning me. I got to her, undiscovered by the young ladies, when she said: 'Colonel Horry, be on your guard; these two ladies, Miss F— and M—, are just from Georgetown; they are much frightened, and I believe the British are leaving it and may soon attack you. As to provisions, which they make such a rout about, I have plenty for your men and horses in yonder barn, but you must affect to take them by force. Hams, bacon, rice and fodder are there. You must insist on the key of the barn, and threaten to split the door with an ax if not immediately opened.' I begged her to say no more, for I was well acquainted with all such matters—to leave the ladies and every thing else to my management. She said 'Yes; but do not ruin us: be artful and cunning, or Mr. White may be hanged and all our houses burned over our heads.' We both secretly returned, she to the room where the young ladies were, and I to the piazza I had just left."

This little narrative will give some idea of the straits to which the good whig matrons of Carolina were sometimes reduced in those days. But no time was allowed Horry to extort the provisions as suggested. He had scarcely got to the piazza when his videttes gave the alarm. Two shots warned him of the approach of the foe, and forgetting that his cap, saber and pistols lay on the long bench on the piazza, Horry mounted his horse, left the inclosure, and rushed into the melée. The British were seventeen in number, well mounted and commanded by a brave fellow named Merritt. The dragoons, taken by surprise, turned in flight, and, smiting at every step, the partisans pursued them with fatal earnestness. But two men are reported to have escaped death or captivity, and they were their Captain and a Sergeant. It was in approaching to encounter Merritt that Horry discovered that he was weaponless. "My officers," says he, "in succession, came up with Captain Merritt, who was in the rear of his party, urging them forward. They engaged him. He was a brave fellow. Baxter, with pistols, fired at his breast, and missing him, retired; Postelle and Greene, with swords, engaged him; both were beaten off. Greene nearly lost his head. His buckskin breeches were cut through several inches. I almost blush to say that this one British officer beat off three Americans." The honor of the day was decidedly with Merritt, though he was beaten. He was no doubt a far better swordsman than our self-taught cavalry, with broadswords wrought out of mill-saws. Merritt abandoned his horse, and escaped to a neighboring swamp, from whence, at midnight, he got into Georgetown.

Colonel Horry, after the war, met Captain Merritt in New York, when the latter recognized him, and in the interview which followed, confessed, that although so desperate in his self-defense he was never more frightened in his life.

"Believe me, sir," said he, "when I assure you that I went out that morning with my locks as bright an auburn as ever curled upon the forehead of youth, but by the time I had crawled out of the swamp into Georgetown that night, they were as gray as a badger!"

If this is true, he must indeed have been wofully frightened, for the records of such an effect of terror are few and far between. One of Byron's heroes says that

"His locks grew white,

In a single night."

But that was with grief, and not with fear.

Horry's award of praise to the British Captain for his courage in beating off three of his own men, was both generous and ingenious, when it is considered that the Englishman was a scientific swordsman, possessing a superior weapon, while his antagonists were self-taught, and their swords, if not beaten out of "plowshares," were veritably made out of mill-saws.

In one of his numerous encounters, while his men were individually engaged and scattered through the woods around him, he suddenly found himself alone, and assailed by a Tory Captain, named Lewis, at the head of a small party. Lewis was armed with a musket, and in the act of firing, when an unexpected shot from the woods tumbled him off his horse, in the very moment when his own gun was discharged. The bullet of Lewis took effect on Horry's horse. The shot which so seasonably slew the Tory was sent by the hand of a boy named Given.

Colonel Horry gives, in his memoirs, a good illustration of the mingled firmness and forbearance with which Marion enforced discipline amidst men and circumstances not any too easily governed. Marion had placed one of his detachments at the plantation of George Crofts, on Tampit Creek. This person had proved invariably true to the American cause; had supplied the partisans frequently, though secretly, with munitions of war, cattle and provisions. He was an invalid, however, suffering from a mortal infirmity, which compelled his removal, for medical attendance, to Georgetown, then in possession of the enemy. During the absence of the family, Marion placed a Sergeant in the house for its protection. This guard was expelled from the premises by two officers of the brigade, who stripped the house of its contents. Colonel Horry disclosed these facts to General Marion—the Colonel having received them from Mrs. Crofts, who had pointed to the sword of her husband hanging by the side of the principal offender. The indignation of Marion was not apt to expend itself in words. Redress was promised to the complainant, and she was dismissed.

The offenders were men of some influence, and had a small faction in the brigade, which had already proved troublesome, and which might easily become dangerous. One of them was a Major, the other a Captain. They were in command of a company of men known as the Georgia Refugees. Upon the minds of these men the offenders had already sought to act, in reference to the expected collision with their General.

Marion dispatched Horry to the person who had possession of the sword of Crofts, with a formal demand for the weapon. He refused to give it up, alleging that it was his, and taken in war.

"If the General wants it," he added, "let him come for it himself."

When this reply was communicated to Marion, he instructed Horry to renew the demand. His purpose seems to have been, discovering the temper of the offender, to gain the necessary time. His officers, meanwhile, were gathering around him. He was making his preparations for a struggle which might be bloody—which might, indeed, involve, not only the safety of the brigade, but his own future usefulness. Horry, with proper spirit, entreated not to be sent again to the refractory officer, giving as the reason for his reluctance, that, in consequence of the previous rudeness of the other, he was not in the mood to tolerate a repetition of the indignity, and might, if irritated, be provoked to violence.

Marion then dispatched his orderly to the guilty Major, with a civil request that he might see him at head-quarters. The Major appeared, accompanied by the Captain who had joined him in the outrage, and under whose influence he appeared to act. Marion renewed his demand, in person, for the sword of Crofts. The Major again refused to deliver it, asserting that Crofts was a Tory, even then with the enemy in Georgetown.

"Will you deliver me the sword, Major?" repeated the General.

"I will not."

"At these words," says Horry, in his memoirs, I could forbear no longer, and said with great warmth, and a great oath: "Did I, sir, command this brigade, as you do, I would hang them both in half an hour!"

Marion sternly replied:

"This is none of your business, sir; they are before me! Sergeant of the guard, bring me a file of men with loaded arms and fixed bayonets."

"I was silent," added Horry. "All our field-officers in camp were present, and they had put their hands to their swords in readiness to draw. My own sword was already drawn."

In the regular service, with officers bred up to the severe sense of authority considered necessary to proper discipline, the offender would probably have been hewn down in the moment of disobedience. The effect of such a measure, in this instance, might have been most unhappy. The esprit du corps might have prompted the Major's immediate followers to have resisted, and, though annihilated, as Horry says they would have been, yet several valuable lives would have been lost, which their country could ill spare. The mutiny would have been put down, but at what a price!

The patience and prudence of Marion's character taught him forbearance. His mildness, by putting the offender entirely in the wrong, so justified his severity, as to disarm the followers of the criminals, who were about sixty in number.

Horry continues: "The purpose of the officers was, to call upon these men for support—we well knew they meant, if possible, to intimidate Marion, so as to compel him to come into their measures of plunder and Tory killing. The affair, fortunately, terminated without any bloodshed. The prudence of the General had its effect. The delay gave time to the offender for reflection. Perhaps, looking around upon their followers, they saw no consenting spirit of mutiny in their eyes; for, though many of the refugees were present, none offered to back the mutinous officers—and when the guard which was ordered appeared in sight, the companion of the offender was seen to touch the arm of the other, who then proffered the sword to Marion, saying:

"'General, you need not have sent for the guard.'"

Marion, refusing to receive it, referred him to the Sergeant of the guard, and thus, doubly degraded, the dishonored Major of the Continentals disappeared from sight, followed by his associate.

Another one of Marion's bravest men was Sergeant Jasper, of whom the readers of a former number have already heard in connection with the melancholy and romantic story of the young Creole girl, who followed him to camp, in the disguise of a soldier, and sacrificed her life to preserve that of the man she loved, by rushing in between him and the shot aimed at his breast.

Sergeant William Jasper, at the time of the affair which we are about to relate, belonged to the Second regiment of the South Carolina militia, having enlisted under Marion, who was then a Captain. Jasper, from the day of his entering the camp, had been proverbial for his bravery. His coolness and valor in times of emergency, and more than all, his utter disregard of danger, had won for him the golden opinions of his comrades, with the esteem and confidence of his commander. Jasper possessed remarkable talents and capacity for a scout. Bold, active and shrewd, with a frame capable of every endurance—the result of a hardy, backwoods life—and retaining those noble qualities of bravery and generosity which were the shining points of his character, he was admirably adapted for that dangerous but important branch of the service. Combining, in happy harmony, so many virtues, it is not surprising that he won the affections of his associates, and the entire confidence of his commander, who was so assured of his fitness that he granted him a roving commission, with full power to select from the brigade such men and as many as he should think proper. But of these he never, or seldom, selected more than six or eight, preferring, by this small band, celerity and secrecy. He was almost universally successful, often penetrating the enemy's camp, or cutting off his rear or advanced guard, and then returning with his prisoners, or his information, according to the circumstances of the case. So rapid were his movements, that he has been known to disappear from the camp and return again with his prisoners, ere his absence was noticed by the commandant. He would often enter the enemy's camp as a deserter, and complaining of the ill usage he had received from his countrymen, so gain upon their confidence, that he would completely disarm them of his real intentions, and after satisfying himself of their strength, position, intentions, and the like, would return and report his knowledge to the commander. On one of these occasions, he remained in the enemy's camp eight days, and then returned, after first informing himself of every thing necessary that could be of any use to his General. This game, however, could be played but once. Never at a loss how to proceed, he, with his usual promptness, devised other ways and means to gain his information.

It was while he was in the employment of one of these roving expeditions, that he prepared to again enter the camp of the British at Ebenezer. It so happened that he had a brother at this post, who was in the employ of the enemy—a melancholy instance among many other cases of a like nature, which occurred during the war—who was a Tory, and who held the same rank in the British army that he possessed in the American. The brothers were equally dear to each other, though opposite in political sentiment.

William Jasper loved his brother in the natural warmth of his generous heart, and wished to see him. He also wished to inform himself of the enemy's movements. With this double object in his mind, he therefore prepared for his departure, taking with him only one companion, a brave young fellow, like himself, who had shared with him many a "happy hunt," as he termed it, to the united honor of both. This young officer's name was Newton, holding the same rank in the service as Jasper, namely, a Sergeant.

It was about sunset when the two young officers left the camp for their destination. Passing the American lines, they proceeded on rapidly toward the British camp, which lay some few miles from Abercorn. Taking the direct road to the latter place, they traveled rapidly until they arrived in sight of the encamped British force, at Abercorn.

"We must now make a detour," said Jasper, halting, "in order to avoid the British at this place, and not be discovered. Our route lies to the south-east a little, and to shorten the journey, we must pass yonder forest, the southern side of which borders upon a small lake or pond, a very convenient place for a respite after the toils and fatigues of a whole day's travel. I have often met straggling parties of Tories or British in this forest, or around the margin of the lake, and it is necessary, therefore, to proceed carefully while passing it. Just beyond the lake is a small hill, from the summit of which the town of Ebenezer can be seen some three or four miles distant. After we pass this forest and hill, we must observe the utmost silence and scrutiny, for we are then in the immediate vicinity of and between the two British posts, which will necessarily place us in a double danger from the meeting of scouts or Tories from either or both camps."

With these directions the two now resumed their journey, taking a small path leading to the left, and directly in line of the forest. A few minutes of brisk walking brought them to the outskirts of the forest, which was an extensive piece of woodland, stretching with occasional intervals far to the south-east, interrupted by a few broken and uneven ranges of hills, somewhat elevated, but scarcely sufficiently so to be called mountains. On the left of our travelers, the forest broke off abruptly, a short distance above them, while its width was about a quarter of a mile. It was quite dark ere they reached the woods, which seemed to them almost impenetrable, having nothing but the faint glimmering of the stars to guide them. The day had been very clear, however, which left the atmosphere perfectly free, with nothing to interrupt the twinklings of the little suns in the distant spheres.

As they entered the forest, they turned to the right, and struck into the main road leading from Abercorn. They had proceeded some fifty yards, when Jasper's accustomed ear caught the sound of horses' hoofs upon the dry soil, moving somewhat rapidly toward them. Motioning his comrade to halt, he remained an instant listening to the sound, and then darted off into the thicket on his left, quickly followed by Newton. Scarcely were they concealed behind a thick cluster of small cedars, ere the horsemen, for such they proved to be, came up. Jasper instantly recognized them as a party of British horse, bound on some scouting expedition. Halting directly opposite to our travelers, two of them, who appeared to be the leaders of the squad, dismounted and withdrew a short distance. The road, at this place, was considerably wider than the usual width, which caused a small opening in the wood, and which seemed a very convenient situation for a halt. As the officers retired, they fortunately came directly abreast of the cedars, behind which Jasper and his comrade were ensconced, so that their conversation could easily be distinguished by both of the latter.

"Our prisoners are no doubt safely within the lines of Ebenezer, ere this," began the first, "unless rescued by some of their rebel brethren, which I think can hardly be the case, as we were close to the town when we left them."

"No fear of that, Lieutenant," replied the second, "for the rebel dogs would not dare to be so audacious."

"I am not so sure of that," exclaimed the other, doubtingly; "that Jasper has the audacity of Satan himself, and if he should be in the neighborhood, I should almost fear for our prisoners. However, if they are once within the lines, no power will save them, as I am assured by the commandant that they will be sent to Savannah for trial and execution, which will have the effect of intimidating, at least, these rebel curs from further marauding expeditions;" and he chuckled with an air of self-satisfaction at the thought of their petty victory.

"Well, be that as it may, Lieutenant," replied his comrade, "it is another letter in our catalogue of victories, which serves to make us more popular with the commandant. In either case, we get our thanks, you know, and that is something toward elevating us toward our desired height."

"True," rejoined the Lieutenant. "But let us not waste more time and words than is necessary. Let me see," he added, thoughtfully, "we will pursue our course north to Abercorn, and deliver our message to the commander, and then shape our proceedings as shall seem most fit."

With these words, the two officers mounted their horses, and were soon lost to view, with their party, on the road to the northern station.

Jasper and his friend now emerged from their place of concealment, and taking the road opposite to the direction of the royalists, resumed their journey.

"So, so," exclaimed Jasper, as they hurried along, "they have taken some 'rebel curs' prisoners, have they? And they will no doubt give them the benefit of 'short shrift and sudden cord,' if they act in consonance with their general character. But we must endeavor to rescue them, if their guard is not too strong for us, which I hardly think will be the case, as they will have no fear of such a thing in the immediate vicinity of their own lines."

"It is a hazardous undertaking, Jasper," replied Newton, "and must be attended with a great deal of risk, as, you know, the enemy occupy every point of note between this and Savannah; and besides, there is scarcely an hour of the day that some of their scouting-parties do not prowl between the posts."

"So much the more glory if we succeed," said the noble Jasper; "and if we fail, why then we share their fate. And we could not sacrifice ourselves in a nobler cause. There is another reason why we should endeavor to rescue them, and that is, they are prisoners, and will, no doubt, be driven to their execution within the walls of Savannah without even the right of a trial; for the British are notorious for their bloody propensities, and seek to vent their hate upon poor captives in a cruel and shameful manner."

"I am certainly of your opinion," said Newton, "still we must not be impetuous. Our country needs all the help she can command, and she does not require us to sacrifice our lives in endeavoring to accomplish impossibilities. However, we shall soon see."

The officers had now nearly reached the limits of the forest, and taking the right of two roads which here joined, they were presently in the open country. Nothing of importance occurred to them during the rest of the journey, which was accomplished in safety to the British lines. Arriving at the advanced guard, and having left Newton concealed until his return, Jasper promptly gave the password, and soon found himself within the enemy's camp. Passing on hastily, he entered his brother's quarters, whom he found just about issuing forth to detail a file of men for special duty to guard the prisoners recently captured, having been sent into Ebenezer on their way to Savannah for trial.

These prisoners had taken up arms against their countrymen at the beginning of the contest; but as the British had been in a measure overthrown, they again joined the ranks of the patriots, and on being taken, were to be executed. This was only one instance of hundreds of others who had acted similarly.

The brothers Jasper were mutually rejoiced to see each other; but the Tory shook his head doubtfully as he beheld his brother again within the British camp, after having so shrewdly deceived them on a former occasion. But William Jasper quickly reassured his mind on this point, and bade him be under no uneasiness.

Having ascertained from his brother the number of men who were to conduct the prisoners to Savannah, at what time they intended to leave, and also making such other inquiries as he deemed proper, Jasper bade him adieu, and soon sought his comrade, Newton, whom he found anxiously waiting his return.

"I have received information from my brother," he said, "that these prisoners leave to-morrow morning at sunrise for Savannah, under a guard of eight men, and accompanied by a Sergeant and a Corporal. The odds is not so very great after all; and I think by a little stratagem and boldness we can succeed in rescuing them. At all events, let us make the trial."

But Jasper's friend was not so sure of success. Ten to two, and those two unarmed, seemed to him too great odds to contend with, as having any chance of succeeding. But when Jasper related to him that one of these prisoners was a woman who had a young child, and that she was the wife of one of the captured men, his heart was touched at the melancholy spectacle, and he instantly coincided with his friend that they should attempt their rescue. This being their conclusion, they conferred as to the best means of accomplishing the desired object. This was soon decided upon. They determined to linger around the fortifications until they should see the prisoners, with their guard, set out for the place of destination, and then follow their footsteps until a convenient opportunity offered to put into force the execution of their design. Accordingly, selecting a secure concealment near the lines to await the approach of dawn, they threw themselves upon the ground, and being somewhat fatigued, soon fell asleep. The day was just beginning to emerge ere Jasper awoke, so sound had been his rest, and springing up, he aroused his friend.

All was activity in the British camp. Men were hurrying to and fro, preparing for the duties of the day. In fact, the whole camp seemed to be astir to Jasper and his comrade, as they issued from their place of concealment to watch the movements of the enemy.

They had not proceeded far before their attention was arrested by a file of soldiers marching out into the inclosure and then coming to a halt, as though waiting further orders. Presently a body of men, with their arms pinioned, was marched directly to their front. Dividing their force, the prisoners were placed in the center, with a portion of their guard in front and rear. Every thing being now in readiness, the whole party started off toward their destined point, leaving the village at the southern extremity.

Jasper and his companion now made a circuit of the village, so as not to be discovered, and in order to place themselves on the track of the troop. Having secured a suitable distance from the guard, they followed them silently, watching their opportunity when to make the endeavor. In this way they continued to track their friends and their guards for some time, without any prospect of accomplishing their design, until they were within two miles of Savannah. They had become nearly discouraged, when Jasper suddenly recollected that just ahead of them there was a noted spring, at which place they conjectured the guard would halt, with their prisoners, to refresh themselves. The spring was known to travelers, who, when journeying that way, seldom or never passed it without tasting its crystalline waters. Jasper and Newton were right in their conjectures. Arriving opposite the spring, the guard halted their prisoners in the road under the shade of a large oak-tree, which stood just on the margin of the road, and between that and the spring. Our heroes, however, had reached the spring before the British, having taken an obscure path with which they were well acquainted, and placing themselves in ambush, awaited the arrival of the enemy.

The day was warm, and as the guard halted, the prisoners, glad to rest their wearied limbs after so long a march, threw themselves upon the earth under the shade of the tree, little dreaming of the succor so near at hand. Very soon after, they were conducted to the spring by the Corporal with four men. The remainder of the guard were under the charge of the Sergeant, who halted them on the road a short distance from the spring, and having ordered them to stack their arms, brought up the rear. After having sufficiently quenched their thirst, the whole party returned, leaving two men on guard of the arms which were all stacked near the spring. These two men kept guard but indifferently. They had nothing to fear within so short a distance of the fortress at Savannah, conscious of being surrounded by none of their foes, and inclosed within the very stronghold of the British lines. It is not surprising that they should not maintain a very strict watch under such circumstances.

The propitious moment for the daring and hazardous attempt was drawing near, which was eagerly watched by Jasper and his comrade in their adjoining ambush.

The localities of the place, the position of the guard, the nearness of the ambush—in short, every thing seemed most appropriate and advantageous.

The spring, as we have said, was situated on the left, within a few feet of the road, between which and the water stood the arms of the guard in charge of the two men, who were lazily employed in watching the bubblings of the fountain, and then tracing its clear waters as they flowed silently off in a small rivulet in a winding direction, until lost in the thick foliage a few rods below. Beyond, and in full view, were the walls and fortifications of Savannah, almost within hailing distance of the spot which our heroes have rendered immortal by their daring achievement.

The remaining guard stood in a group on the opposite side of the road, conversing freely and gayly, and utterly unconscious of the presence of an enemy, while the prisoners were reclining under the stately oak, a little on the left of the British.

The two soldiers were conversing cheerfully, having seated themselves by the side of the spring, little dreaming that this colloquy was destined to be their last.

Presently, the two arose, and leaning their muskets against a small tree, close to where Jasper and his comrade lay concealed, they proceeded to fill their canteens with the refreshing draught of the spring.

At this moment Jasper gave the signal. Springing out from their ambush, he and his companion seized the loaded weapons, and instantly leveling them, shot the two soldiers dead upon the ground. Then rushing upon the guard, they clubbed their muskets, and assailing two of the remaining soldiers, who were in advance of the rest, they felled them to the earth, and before the astonished guard could recover from their surprise, they rushed to the stack of arms, and with presented weapons, instantly demanded the surrender of the whole troop. The British officers seeing their perilous situation, and noticing the determined looks of Jasper and Newton, and being withal deprived of their arms, complied with their demand, and yielded themselves and their men as prisoners of war. To set free the captives was but the work of an instant, and placing the muskets of the captured British into their hands, Jasper ordered the irons to be placed upon the new prisoners; and then hurrying away from this spot, which they have immortalized with a name not soon to be forgotten, they crossed the Savannah with both friends and foes, and were soon rapidly marching toward the American camp.

Thus was this noble act achieved, of which history furnishes but few parallels; and which strikingly illustrates the coolness, determination and bravery, which ever characterized the noble-hearted Jasper. But, unfortunately for his country, she was soon destined to lose his valuable services, when, in the very hey-day of his youth, he sealed his patriotism with his heart's blood before the walls of Savannah.