222. Marion proves a Source of Terror to the British.—The patriots felt now that they must defend themselves singly or in small groups; there was no army to help them. So they assembled, a few dozen here and there, and used their utmost endeavors on every opportunity to cripple the enemy. The British had small stations through the state, from which murderous raids could be made. They would plunder, burn, slay, and then return to their posts. To attack these posts, or to do any military work successfully, the patriots needed a leader. One soon came, Francis Marion, who combined a few groups of patriots and did most effective work with them.
Marion's Troopers attacking a British Camp.
This gallant and intrepid partisan chieftain was rather below the middle stature, lean, and swarthy. His forehead was large and high, and his eyes black and piercing. He was at this time about forty-eight years of age, with a body capable of enduring great fatigue and every privation. He never tarnished his fame with acts of cruelty.
"Never shall a house be burned by one of my men," said he; "to distress helpless women and children is what I detest."
Marion used to wear a close-fitting red jacket and a leather cap. His body was so slight that he never did personal deeds of valor. His sword was so rarely used that once he could not draw it from the scabbard on account of the rust.
Never was Napoleon's guard more attached to their general than were Marion's men to the partisan chief who so often led them to victory.
223. How the "Swamp Fox" did his Fighting.—Marion was familiar with the country, and in many of the numerous swamps he occupied, with his troopers, secret haunts approached by devious paths not easily followed. The British, smarting under his attacks, called him the "swamp fox"; but he proved to them rather a wolf or a tiger. These patriots who sprang to his side to defend their homes were patriots indeed. They had no pay, no uniforms, and but scanty clothing. They were a shabby-looking band of soldiers; but their arms were strong and their hearts were true.
Many had no guns, until they supplied themselves from the enemy. They melted their pewter dishes for bullets. They often made their breakfast on blackberries, dined on potatoes and green corn, and not infrequently supped on the memory of their dinner.
Much of the time Marion himself did not have even a blanket. One night his bed of brush caught fire, and it not only burnt his blanket but singed his hair and spoilt his leather cap!