GOD’s ways are in the deep; the Lord only knows what he is about to do with your dear family. Here at Mr. Bull’s and at Mr. Hugh Bryan’s they sojourn at present, and all, blessed be our gracious Jesus, in pretty good bodily health. Distress from the hands of the Spaniards (under God) seems to be coming upon poor Georgia, and perhaps upon this colony also. Our afflictions have been heavy: the Lord only enabled us to bear up under them; but I really believe we have tasted but the first fruits of our trials. Was it not for a persuasion that God can, yea, will help us, we must sink under a prospect of impending difficulties. About the 25th of last month several Spanish galleys came into Cumberland sound, a little to the South of St. Simon’s, where the General’s forces are encamped. The General himself in a deal cutter, accompanied with two boats, was attacked by them, and had a very wonderful escape. The gallies went off as though they would go to Augustine; but a day or two after returned, attended with several schooners, sloops, and ships of force to St. Simon’s. Several days they lay within sight of the General’s camp. When we heard this, we kept a day of fasting, prayer, and humiliation, to ask direction of our great shepherd what we should do. As the Spanish fleet had then made no inroad upon the General, we concluded to stand still and wait upon God. The 5th instant the Spanish fleet run into St. Simon’s Sound, up the river that leads to Frederica. The fleet, I hear, consisted of thirty-five or thirty-seven vessels; and notwithstanding the General fired upon them from his battery, and two privateers, and other vessels did the same, they passed without seeming to regard them, and landed a great number of people at Gascoign’s Bluff on St. Simon’s. The General seeing himself encompassed about with enemies, ordered several sloops, New-Yorkers, laden with provision to be sunk; his privateer sloop was burnt, and Captain Thomson and the [♦]schooner made the best of their way to the North. The General is now surrounded by the Spaniards upon an island, without having one vessel of any bigness to carry him and his army off. He retreated from St. Simon’s (burnt all the hutts, houses, &c. there) to Frederica, and gave leave for the women and children, and I think all except his fighting people, to make their escape.
[♦] “scooner” replaced with “schooner”
The 17th instant several boats full of people passed by our house, and informed us of the above, and that it was thought the General’s army would be entirely cut off, unless great assistance was immediately sent them, which it is likely could not be done soon enough. We all met together, and prayed to our dear Father, and afterward desired every one to speak their mind freely, what was necessary to be done in this emergency. We considered it would be impossible to move so many children, weak women, and babes in their arms away upon a sudden approach of the enemy; that we were so locked in, that we could not get through the Narrows with our boats but four hours in twenty-four, and unanimously agreed to move them away directly. But we had one great objection to get over, the glory of God; we thought the providence of God plainly pointed out our removal; and if the Spaniards should be permitted to take and burn all before them, we should be accessary to the death of eighty-five poor creatures, and likewise bring a reproach upon religion, through our disregard of using means for our preservation. Our friends thought things might not be so bad as reported, and concluded to stay that evening at the Orphan-house, while I should go to Savannah to ask the advice of friends, and likewise be better informed about it. Accordingly I went about nine that evening, and returned at three in the morning. The news I had confirmed from the persons who had fled from Frederica; and our friends at Savannah advised us to move. Mr. Jones offered to lend me any assistance to do it. The next morning, as delays might be dangerous, we took as many goods out of the house as the boats would conveniently carry with the people. We had none about us but Mr. K——’s and G——’s family, and two sick men in the infirmary, and in all made about eighty-five or eighty-six persons. Then we had another difficulty to grapple with: we knew not where to go. If we went to Ebenezer, we had no opportunity of providing so large a body of people with provisions, and might be in as much danger there as at Bethesda. If we went to Carolina, we considered that it was there, in all probability, the enemy wanted to be, and were destroying Georgia in order to get there with the more safety. But believing we should be better able to make our retreat to the Northward from Carolina, if necessity should oblige us, and also should be better able to supply the family with victuals, we came here last night about twelve o’clock, and were received kindly by our dear friends, who think we have done right in moving.
Mr. Barber who superintends the spiritual affairs of the family, in a letter dated near the same time writes,—“That as they were on their passage, they heard guns firing all round them, which occasioned them to think they were in the midst of their enemies.—This brought them into straits, not knowing which way to take to avoid falling into their hands.—But the Lord giving them to strengthen themselves in him, they ventured on, and got safe to the shore; where they were informed, that the guns they had heard, where in Carolina, firing to alarm the province of the danger they apprehended they were in from the Spaniards. What those guns were that they heard firing from other quarters they did not know; most probably their enemies, whom the Lord directed them to shun by taking the way they did.”
Mr. Habersham, again says,—How it is with Georgia, I have not heard these three days; but as we left a great quantity of goods at the Orphan-house, and fearing that it might be plundered, brother Grant and I, with four hands, are in a few minutes to go there. I think, as we have moved away the helpless people, if the enemy should come, we can the better make our escape. O my brother, I hope you will not blame us.—A sense of so many souls being liable to be destroyed, was very burdensome, and called for speedy acting. I know not whether I shall be ever able to write to you again. Perhaps some friends that I leave behind me here may, and then they will tell you of all our difficulties. It is hard to leave my dear friends and children, my wife and little babe; but duty obliges me to go; I have no time to say any more; what I have written has been in great hurry. Pray pardon my abruptness. If I never see you, or write more, let me assure you of my love. I hope I need not now use any arguments to persuade you to come over. Farewel, farewel, farewel.
Yours, for ever,
James Habersham.
’Tis past one in the morning.
From Mr. Habersham, at Mr. Bull’s plantation in South-Carolina, July 27, 1742.
My dear Friend and Brother,