But gradually there stole a melancholy presentiment over the poor girl's mind. She had been tortured with hopes deferred; the war was prolonged, and the prospect of being restored to him grew more and more uncertain. But now she felt that her dream of happiness could never be realized. She became convinced that death was about to snatch her away from his side, but she prayed that she might die, and he never know to what length the violence of her passion led her.
It was an eve before a battle. The camp had sunk into repose. The watch-fires were burning low, and only the slow tread of sentinels fell upon the profound silence of the night air, as they moved through the dark shadows of the forest. Stretched upon the ground, with no other couch than a blanket, reposed the warlike form of Jasper. Climbing vines trailed themselves into a canopy above his head, through which the stars shone down softly. The faint flicker from the expiring embers of a fire fell athwart his countenance, and tinged the cheek of one who bent above his couch. It was the smooth-faced stripling. She bent low down as if to listen to his dreams, or to breathe into his soul pleasant visions of love and happiness. But tears trace themselves down the fair one's cheek, and fall silently but rapidly upon the brow of her lover. A mysterious voice has told her that the hour of parting has come; that to-morrow her destiny is consummated. There is one last, long, lingering look, and then the unhappy maid is seen to tear herself away from the spot, to weep out her sorrows in privacy.
Fierce and terrible is the conflict that on the morrow rages on that spot. Foremost in the battle is the intrepid Jasper, and ever by his side fights the stripling warrior. Often during the heat and the smoke, gleams suddenly upon the eyes of Jasper the melancholy face of the maiden. In the thickest of the fight, surrounded by enemies, the lovers fight side by side. Suddenly a lance is leveled at the breast of Jasper; but swifter than the lance is Sally St. Clair. There is a wild cry, and at the feet of Jasper sinks the maiden, with the life-blood gushing from the white bosom, which had been thrown, as a shield, before his breast. He heeds not now the din, nor the danger of the conflict, but down by the side of the dying boy he kneels. Then for the first time does he learn that the stripling is his love; that often by the camp-fire, and in the swamp, she had been by his side; that the dim visions, in his slumber, of an angel face hovering above him, had indeed been true. In the midst of the battle, with her lover by her side, and the barb still in her bosom, the heroic maiden dies!
Her name, her sex, and her noble devotion soon became known through the corps. There was a tearful group gathered around her grave; there was not one of those hardy warriors who did not bedew her grave with tears. They buried her near the river Santee, "in a green, shady nook, that looked as if it had been stolen out of Paradise."
The women of the Revolution won a noble name by the part they took in the conflict which has secured for their descendants so glorious an inheritance. Privations of all kinds they endured patiently, joyfully sending their dearest ones to the field, while they remained in their lonely homes, deprived of the care and society of fathers and sons; finding their pleasantest relief from the heart-ache of grief and suspense in labors at the loom or with the needle for the benefit of the ill-provided soldiers.
Many individual instances of female heroism are preserved, where the bravery of naturally timid hearts was tested in exposure to the rudest vicissitudes of war. They played the parts of spies, messengers, and defenders. Among other anecdotes we have one of a young girl of North Carolina. At the time General Greene retreated before Lord Rawdon from Ninety-Six, when he had passed Broad River, he was very desirous to send an order to General Sumter, who was on the Wateree, to join him, that they might attack Rawdon, who had divided his force. But the General could find no man in that portion of the State who was bold enough to undertake so dangerous a mission. The country to be passed through for many miles was full of bloodthirsty Tories, who, on every occasion that offered, imbrued their hands in the blood of the Whigs. At length this young girl, Emily Geiger, presented herself to General Greene, proposing to act as his messenger, and he, both surprised and delighted, closed with her proposal. He accordingly wrote a letter and delivered it, while, at the same time, he communicated the contents of it verbally, to be told to Sumter, in case of accident.
She started off on horseback, and on the second day of her journey was intercepted by Lord Rawdon's scouts. Coming from the direction of Greene's army, and not being able to tell an untruth without blushing, Emily was suspected and confined to a room; but as the officer in command had the delicacy not to search her at the time, he sent for an old Tory matron to perform the duty. Emily was not wanting in expedient; as soon as the door was closed, and the bustle a little subsided, she ate up the letter, piece by piece. After a while the matron arrived, who found nothing of a suspicious nature about the prisoner, though she made a careful search, and the young girl would disclose nothing. Suspicion being thus allayed, the officer commanding the scouts suffered Emily to depart whither she said she was bound; she took a circuitous route to avoid further detection, soon after striking into the road which led to Sumter's camp, where she arrived in safety. Here she told her adventure and delivered Greene's verbal message to Sumter, who, in consequence, soon after joined the main army at Orangeburg. This young heroine afterward married a rich planter, named Therwits, who lived on the Congaree.
A similar adventure is related of Miss Moore, daughter of Captain Moore, who was present at Braddock's defeat, and who died in 1770. This girl was also a "daughter of the Carolinas." Alas, that the fair descendants of women so brave as these, should aid in imperiling the country and the cause for which their mothers sacrificed and suffered so much!
Her youth was passed among the eventful scenes of our Revolution, and a number of incidents are related, that go to prove her calm courage, and her inflexibility of purpose. She was born in 1764, and, therefore, in the earlier part of the contest was nothing more than a child.
The terrors of the war were often enacted before the very door of her step-father's residence. On one occasion, a most sanguinary skirmish took place just before the house, between a body of Colonel Washington's cavalry and some of Rawdon's men. Shortly after, a party of the British in search of plunder broke into the house. But the family had been forewarned, and concealed their treasures. In searching for plunder they discovered a quantity of apples, and began to roll them down the stairs, while the soldiers below picked them up. Miss Moore, nothing fearing, commanded them to desist, with an air so determined and resolute, that an officer standing by, admiring so courageous a spirit in a girl so young, ordered the soldiers to obey her.