As the events of this history are confined to the duration of the Tory Ascendency in South Carolina, it becomes me to prepare my reader for the conclusion to which, doubtless much to his content, he will hear that we are now hastening. We have reached a period which brings us to take notice of certain important operations that were in progress upon the frontier, and touching the details of which, to avoid prolixity, I must refer to the graver chronicles of the times. It answers my present purpose merely to apprise my reader that Colonel Clarke had lately assembled his followers and marched to Augusta, where he had made an attack upon Brown, but that almost at the moment when his dexterous and valiant adversary had fallen within his grasp, a timely succor from Fort Ninety-Six, under the command of Cruger, had forced him to abandon his ground, and retreat towards the mountain districts of North Carolina. To this, it is important to add that Ferguson had now recruited a considerable army amongst the native Tories, and had moved to the small frontier village of Gilbert-town, with a purpose to intercept Clarke, and thus place him under the disadvantage of having a foe both in front and rear.
The midnight seizure of Arthur Butler and his friends, whilst returning from Ramsay's funeral, was effected by McAlpine, who happened at that moment to be hastening, by a forced march, with a detachment of newly-recruited cavalry from Ninety-Six, to strengthen Ferguson, and to aid in what was expected to be the certain capture of the troublesome Whig partisan.
As M'Alpine's purpose required despatch, he made but a short delay after sunrise at Drummond's cabin, and then pushed forward with his prisoners with all possible expedition. The route of his journey diverged, almost at the spot of the capture, from the roads leading towards Musgrove's Mill, and he consequently had but little chance to fall in with parties who might communicate to him the nature of the accident which threw the prisoners into his possession; whilst the prisoners themselves were sufficiently discreet to conceal from him everything that might afford a hint of Butler's previous condition.
The road lay through a rugged wilderness, and the distance to be travelled, before the party could reach Gilbert-town, was something more than sixty miles. It was, accordingly, about the middle of the second day after leaving Drummond's habitation, before the troop arrived at the term of their journey, a period that coincided with that of Cornwallis's breaking ground from his late encampment at the Waxhaws, which we have seen in the last chapter.
Ferguson was a stout, fearless, and bluff soldier, and instigated by the most unsparing hatred against all who took up the Whig cause. He had been promoted by Earl Cornwallis to the brevet rank of lieutenant-colonel, a short time before the battle of Camden, and despatched towards this wild and mountainous border to collect together and organize the Tory inhabitants of the district. His zeal and activity, no less than his peremptory bearing, had particularly recommended him to the duty to be performed; and he is, at least, entitled to the commendation of having acquitted himself with great promptitude and efficiency in the principal objects of his appointment. He was now at the head of between eleven and twelve hundred men, of which about one hundred and fifty were regulars of the British line, the remainder consisting of the disorderly and untamed population of the frontier.
Gilbert-town was a small village, composed of a number of rather well-built and comfortable log-houses. It was situated in a mountainous but fertile district of North Carolina, about the centre of Rutherford country. And I may venture to add (which I do upon report only), that although its former name has faded from the maps of the present day, under that reprehensible indifference to ancient associations, and that pernicious love of change which have obliterated so many of the landmarks of our revolutionary history, yet this village is still a prosperous and pleasant community, known as the seat of justice to the county to which it belongs.
When the troop having charge of Butler and his companions arrived, they halted immediately in front of one of the largest buildings of the village, and in a short time the prisoners were marched into the presence of Ferguson. They were received in a common room of ample dimensions, furnished with a table upon which was seen a confused array of drinking vessels, and a number of half-emptied bottles of spirit surrounding a wooden bucket filled with water. Immediately against one of the posts of the door of the apartment, the carcass of a buck, recently shot and now stripped of its skin, hung by the tendons of the hinder feet; and a soldier was at this moment employed with his knife in the butcher-craft necessary to its preparation for the spit. Ferguson himself, conspicuous for his robust, athletic, and weather-beaten exterior, stood by apparently directing the operation. Around the room were hung the hide and antlers of former victims of the chase, intermingled with various weapons of war, military cloaks, cartridge-boxes, bridles, saddles, and other furniture denoting the habitation of a party of soldiers. There was a general air of disorder and untidiness throughout the apartment, which seemed to bespeak early and late revels, and no great observance of the thrift of even military housekeeping. This impression was heightened to the eye of the beholder, by the unchecked liberty with which men of all ranks, privates as well as officers, flung themselves, as their occasions served, into the room and made free with the contents of the flasks that were scattered over the table.
The irregular and ill-disciplined host under Ferguson's command lay in and around the village, and presented a scene of which the predominating features bore a sufficient resemblance to the economy of their leader's own quarters, to raise but an unfavorable opinion of their subordination and soldier-like demeanor: it was wild, noisy, and confused.
When M'Alpine entered the apartment, the words that fell from Ferguson showed that his mind, at the moment, was disturbed by a double solicitude—alternating between the operations performed upon the carcass of venison, and certain symptoms of uproar and disorder that manifested themselves amongst the militia without.
"Curse on these swaggering, upland bullies!" he said, whilst M'Alpine and the prisoners stood inside the room, as yet unnoticed. "I would as soon undertake to train as many wolves from the mountain, as bring these fellows into habits of discipline. Thady, you cut that haunch too low—go deep, man—a long sweep from the pommel to the cantle—it is a saddle worth riding on! By the infernal gods! if these yelping savages do not learn to keep quiet in camp, I'll make a school for them with my regulars, where they shall have good taste of the cat! nine hours' drill and all the camp duty besides! Ha, M'Alpine, is it you who have been standing here all this while? I didn't observe it, man—my quarters are like a bar-room, and have been full of comers and goers all day. I thought you were but some of my usual free-and-easy customers. Damn them, I am sick of these gawky, long-legged, half-civilized recruits! but I shall take a course with them yet. What news, old boy? What have you to tell of the rebels? Where is my pretty fellow, Clarke?"