"The kind of stories I like to hear," said another of the young men.
"Well, you shall hear, if I can recollect aright," said Kinnison. "The intrigues and efforts of Lord Cornwallis, to excite insurrection, backed by a very formidable force, had produced among the Highland emigrants a spirit of revolt, which it required all the energies of General Greene to counteract, before it could be matured. The zeal and activity of Lieutenant Colonel Lee, united to his acuteness and happy talent of obtaining intelligence of every movement, and of the most secret intentions of the enemy, pointed him out as the fittest man for this important service. He was accordingly selected with orders to impede the intercourse of Lord Cornwallis with the disaffected; to repress every symptom of revolt, and promptly to cut off every party that should take up arms for Britain. Constantly on the alert, he was equally anxious to give security to his own command, while he harassed the enemy. A secure position was, on one occasion, taken near a forked road, one division of which led directly to Lord Cornwallis' camp, about six miles distant. The ground was chosen in the dusk of evening; and to prevent surprise, patrols of cavalry were kept out on each fork during the night. An order for a movement before day had been communicated to every individual, and was executed with so little noise and confusion, that Lieutenant Manning waking at early dawn, found himself, excepting one soldier, left alone. Stephen Green, the attendant of Captain Carns, lay near him, resting on the portmanteau of his superior, and buried in profound sleep. Being awakened he was ordered to mount and follow, while Manning, hastening towards the fork, hoped to fall upon the track, and speedily rejoin his regiment. Much rain had fallen during the night, so that, finding both roads equally cut up, Manning chose at hazard, and took the wrong one. He had not proceeded far, before he saw at the door of a log-house, a rifleman leaning on his gun, and apparently placed as a sentinel. Galloping up to him, he inquired if a regiment of horse and body of infantry had passed that way? 'Oh, ho,' cried the man, (whistling loudly, which brought out a dozen others completely armed, and carrying each a red rag in his hat,) 'you, I suppose, are one of Greene's men.' The badge which they bore, marked their principles. Without the slightest indication of alarm, or even hesitation, Manning pointed to the portmanteau carried by Green, and exclaimed—'Hush, my good fellow—no clamour for God's sake—I have there what will ruin Greene—point out the road to Lord Cornwallis' army, for all depends upon early intelligence of its contents.' 'You are an honest fellow (was the general cry), and have left the rebels just in time, for the whole settlement are in arms to join Colonel Pyle tomorrow (naming the place of rendezvous), where Colonel Tarleton will meet and conduct us to camp.' 'Come,' said the man, to whom he had first spoken, 'take a drink—Here's confusion to Greene, and success to the King and his friends. This is the right road, and you will soon reach the army; or rather let me conduct you to it myself.' 'Not for the world, my dear fellow,' replied Manning; 'your direction is plain and I can follow it. I will never-consent that a faithful subject of his Majesty should be subjected to the dangers of captivity or death on my account. If we should fall in with a party of rebels, and we cannot say they are not in the neighbourhood now, we should both lose our lives. I should be hanged for desertion, and you for aiding me to reach the British army.' This speech produced the effect he desired. The libation concluded, Manning rode off amid the cheers of the company, and when out of sight, crossed to the other road, and urging his horse to full speed, in a short time overtook and communicated the interesting intelligence to his commander. Lee was then meditating an attack upon Tarleton, who had crossed the Haw River to support the insurgents; but, perceiving the vast importance of crushing the revolt in the bud, he informed General Greene of his plan by a confidential messenger, and hastened to the point of rendezvous, where Pyle, with upwards of four hundred men, had already arrived. You have heard of the bloody work that ensued. Pyle and his Tories believed to the last that the soldiers of the Legion were Tarleton's men, and were therefore easily surprised About three hundred of them were killed—the rest fled or were made prisoners. I don't want to justify such butchery; but our men ought to be excused, according to the laws of war, when we consider that these same Tories and their red-coat friends never gave the Whigs quarter in case of a surprise, and that some such slaughter was necessary to make them feel that they couldn't murder without paying for it."
"We've already argued that question," said Davenport, "and in my mind, it is a settled point that Lee was right." Nobody seemed disposed to revive the argument, and Kinnison continued.
"In this instance you see how ready Manning was to break a net or weave one. I can tell you of another instance in which he showed his daring courage, and quickness of resource in time of danger. At the battle of Eutaw, after the British line had been broken, and the Old Buffs, a regiment that had boasted of the extraordinary feats that they were to perform, were running from the field, Manning, sprang forward in pursuit, directing the platoon which he commanded, to follow him. He did not cast an eye behind him until he found himself near a large brick house, into which the York Volunteers, commanded by Cruger, were retiring. The British were on all sides of him, and not an American soldier nearer than one hundred and fifty or two hundred yards. He did not hesitate a moment, but springing at an officer who was near him, seized him by the collar, and exclaiming in a harsh tone of voice—'Damn you, sir, you are my prisoner,' wrested his sword from his grasp, dragged him by force from the house, and keeping his body as a shield of defence from the heavy fire sustained from the windows, carried him off without receiving any injury. Manning has often related, that at the moment when he expected that his prisoner would have made an effort for his liberty, he, with great solemnity, commenced an enumeration of his titles—I am, Sir Henry Barry, Deputy Adjutant General of the British Army, Captain in the 52d Regiment, Secretary to the Commandant of Charleston.' 'Enough, enough, sir,' said Manning, 'you are just the man I was looking for; fear nothing for your life, you shall screen me from danger, and I will take special care of you.' He had retired in this manner some distance from the brick house, when he saw Captain Robert Joiett of the Virginia line, engaged in single combat with a British officer. They had selected each other for battle a little before, the American armed with a broad-sword, the Briton with a musket and bayonet. As they came together, a thrust was made at Joiett, which he parried, and both dropping their artificial weapons, being too much in contact to use them with effect, resorted to those with which they had been furnished by nature. They were both men of great bulk and vigour, and while struggling each anxious to bring the other to the ground, a grenadier who saw the contest, ran to the assistance of his officer, made a longe with his bayonet, missed Joiett's body, but drove it beyond the curve into his coat. In attempting to withdraw the entangled weapon, he threw both combatants to the ground; when getting it free, he raised it deliberately, determined not to fail again in his purpose, but to transfix Joiett. It was at this moment that Manning approached—not near enough, however, to reach the grenadier with his arm. In order to gain time, and to arrest the stroke, he exclaimed in an angry and authoritative tone—'You damn'd brute, will you murder the gentleman?' The soldier, supposing himself addressed by one of his own officers, suspended the blow, and looked around to see the person who had thus spoken to him. Before he could recover from the surprise into which he had been thrown, Manning, now sufficiently near, struck him with his sword across the eyes, and felled him to the ground; while Joiett disengaged himself from his opponent, and snatching up the musket, as he attempted to rise, laid him dead by a blow from the butt-end of it. Manning was of inferior size, but strong, and remarkably well formed. Joiett was almost a giant. This, probably, led Barry, who could not have wished the particulars of his capture to be commented on, to reply, when asked by his brother officers, how he came to be taken, 'I was overpowered by a huge Virginian.'"
"Manning was a cool and ready soldier," observed Pitts. "I saw him once in Philadelphia, before his Legion went south. He had a most determined look in spite of the good-humoured leer of his eye. He was one of the last men I should have wished to provoke; he was a complete Irishman—blunders and all. I heard of his telling a black servant who was walking barefoot on the snow to put on a pair of stockings the next time he went barefoot."
"Great things were done by the soldiers, as well as by the officers of that Legion," said Kinnison. "At the siege of the Stockade Fort at Ninety-Six, Colonel Lee, who had charge of all the operations of the siege, thought that the Fort might be destroyed by fire. Accordingly, Sergeant Whaling, a non-commissioned officer whose term of service was about to expire, with twelve privates, was detached to perform the service. Whaling saw that he was moving to certain death; as the approach to the Fort was to be made in open day, and over clear, level ground, which offered no cover. But he was a brave man, and had served from the commencement of the war. It was his greatest pride never to shrink from his duty. He dressed himself neatly—took an affectionate but cheerful leave of his comrades, swung his musket over his shoulder, and with a bundle of blazing pine torches in his hand, sprang forward, followed by his little band. They reached the Stockade before the enemy fired a shot. But a deliberate aim killed Whaling and all his men except one, who escaped unhurt. It was the opinion of most of the officers of the Legion that Whaling's life was sacrificed in attempting to carry out a rash idea. But we oughtn't to judge Colonel Lee without being more certain of the facts."
"But we know enough to say it was a very wild idea to send men up to a fort in open day, and over ground where they could have no cover," remarked Ransom. "I know General John Stark would never have sacrificed his men in that way."
"Perhaps," said Hand, coming to the rescue of his hero, "a desperate measure was necessary. I've heard that at the time, Lord Rawdon was marching very rapidly to relieve the garrison, and Colonel Lee thought that every means should be tried to reduce the Fort ere the siege was abandoned."
"You say well," said Kinnison. "As I said before, we should never judge commanders without knowing the facts of the case. Never say a man has committed a fault, unless it sticks out plain to the eye. Harry Lee was as a common thing very sparing of the lives of his men, and he never made any military movement without very strong driving from reason, as General Greene himself would have told you. Whaling was a brave man and a strict soldier, or he would never have dared to approach the fort in such a way. But as I said before, they were all daring men that belonged to Lee's Legion. There were two soldiers of the cavalry, named Bulkley and Newman, who had been the warmest and the closest friends from infancy. They had both joined the army at the same time—that is, at the commencement of the war; and through the greater part of the southern campaign, they fought side by side, and each one strove to lighten the sufferings of the other. Brothers could not have been more attached to each other. In the fight at Quimby, where Captain Armstrong made a famous dragoon charge upon the 19th British regiment, the friends were among the foremost. The dragoons had to pass a bridge in which the enemy had made a large gap. Captain Armstrong led the way, but not more than a dozen men followed, to support him. At the head of this little band, Armstrong cut his way through the entire British regiment. But then a well-aimed fire brought down several of the dragoons. Bulkley and Newman were mortally wounded at the same fire, and fell, locked in each other's arms."