Giving no heed to those around us, we continued on when the command was halted, much as if we had not heard the orders, and without anything in the way of leave-taking.
I know not how it may have been with my companions; but as for myself, I was in no mood to speak even with my uncle, so thickly did the sad and gloomy thoughts flow through my mind. It was to me as if we were playing the last acts in that drama which should have had a glorious ending—as if we were assisting at the death of the Cause, and I believe that nine out of every ten men in the brigade had some such thought as myself.
It was true that we might strike a blow at Nelson's Ferry, but let the reader remember that ours was probably the only armed force, true to the colonies, then in the Carolinas; let him remember that the Britishers overran our land, even as did the locusts of old, and how might four hundred men or less oppose all the soldiers the king could send against us?
Surely for us of the southern colonies, this night, when we three set out to spy upon the victorious troops coming down from Camden with our friends as prisoners, was the worst ever known.
We were beaten—hemmed in, and, like rats in the corner, could only make one desperate fight, not against death, but simply as proof that our courage held good even to the very last moment.
Let all these things be borne well in mind, and it is little wonder that when we rode on after the command was halted, we were in no mood for leave-taking. Ours might, and it seemed probable it would, be the last blow in a gallant struggle for liberty.
When we passed the group of officers at the head of the column, all sitting their horses motionless as statues, looking neither to the right nor the left, but each man as it were peering into the recesses of his own heart, asking himself in what way the end would come, I gave one glance toward my uncle, and it seemed to me as if there was a certain uplifting of the eyebrows which I interpreted as a "good-by."
More than that we saw not, and five minutes later the brigade of Williamsburg patriots, tried and true, were left behind, while we two lads and the old man rode forward, hoping almost against hope that it might be possible we should accomplish something toward showing the British king how strong in our hearts was the desire for liberty.
Our horses, jaded by the long march of the day, were unwilling to leave the troop; they went forward listlessly, and we had not the heart to spur them on because it was much as if they shared our feelings.
I question if we gained ten miles in advance of the column that night.