“This has been a military affair so far,” said the young man, “and let us carry it through so. We must just have a court-martial. These niggers are prisoners of war. This is a conflict between the South Carolina Rifle Clubs, the natural offspring of our honored Confederate Cavalry, (cheers), and the National Guards, the pets of the Yankees, (groans). The South Carolinians have been victorious, [tremendous cheers], as they always will be, [vehement applause]. And now, as becomes the sons of noble sires, [cheers], sons who are honored [when in uniform], by wearing the gray of our “Lost Cause,” [cheers], and who to-night have done honor to the gray, (cheers), let us not forget to be generous to our prisoners; but choose from our number twenty men, who shall retire and consider the case of each of these we have captured; and as they decide, so the man shall fare.”
Applause and assent followed, when another voice added, “And if any of you have old scores you want settled, just bring them before the court-martial.”
The men were selected, though not without difficulty and some final dissatisfaction and threats, but as the Captain was acceptable to the most violent, the matter was finally adjusted upon a compromise.
Capt. Sweargen, [the same who menaced Mr. Springer during the last conference held with Gen. Baker previous to the commencement of active hostilities], withdrew and organized his court, and soon returned to the “dead ring,” and gave the following elegant military order.
“All you black scamps, get up here; we’re going to carry you to the county seat, and put you in jail.”
“No; we’ll start for there, but we’ll lose them on the road,” said a bystander.
“That’s it,” said another, “we’ll leave them in the swamp.”
“Come on, boys, come on this way, we’ll attend to the—s,” said Capt. S—, and the ring and crowd moved down the street about twenty yards.
“Halt! Now all you blasted niggers, sit down!”