The guns of the Defence were given time to cool and commander and crew looked about them. The ship which had engaged the Revenge had hauled off; the third schooner, after inflicting sufficient damage to the rigging of the American brig to prevent pursuit, had also drawn away. Then Captain Murray, whose vessel had suffered severely, having borne the pounding of both British ship and brig for an hour, flew the signal to cease firing. He knew that it would not be possible for them to take the British vessels, so a continuation of the action would only be a waste of ammunition.
Within a half hour the enemy had drawn together to make repairs; then they hoisted what sail they could, and all five stood out to sea, while the Revenge and Defence re-entered the harbor with the crippled brig limping, as it were, in their wake. For this gallant action the skippers and crews received the thanks of the merchants of Baltimore. The Defence was somewhat damaged by the British fire; so Captain Deering delayed long enough to refit; and there being no enemy now to fear the merchant fleet sailed in safety to their different destinations. One morning the Defence also slipped out of the bay and was soon bounding swiftly over the sparkling waters of the Atlantic, on her way south.
CHAPTER XVI
HOW TOM DEERING SERVED WITH GENERAL GREENE
About a week later the Defence ran into Charleston harbor, and Tom Deering and his friends, after bidding the skipper good-bye, were put ashore. The journey back to the district across the Santee was made on foot. It was a long and wearisome one, and being made at night caused it to seem all the more difficult. The first day they passed at the Indian’s Head; and in three nights more they found themselves back in the camp of the Americans.
It was shortly after their return that Marion retired to Snow’s Island, which is to this day pointed out as “the camp of the Swamp-Fox.” He had concluded that the place would be a safe depot for his arms, ammunition, prisoners and invalids—difficult of access, easily guarded and close to the scene of his most active operations.
Snow’s Island lay at the confluence of Lynch’s Creek and the Peedee. On the east was the latter river; on the west was Clarke’s Creek, issuing from Lynch’s, a deep stream which small vessels might ascend; Lynch’s Creek lay on the north, but was choked by rafts, logs, and refuse timber. The island was large; thick woods covered the elevated tracts, dense cane-brakes the lower.
It was here that Marion made his fortress. He secured all the boats in the neighborhood, destroying those which he could not use.
Where the natural defenses of the place seemed to require strengthening he labored upon them; by cutting down bridges and obstructing the ordinary pathways with timber he contrived almost perfectly to isolate the section of country under his command. From this fortress his scouting parties were sent forth nightly in all directions to report on the doings of the British at Nelson’s Ferry and Scott’s Lake.
Here Marion and his men lived like the Robin Hood of old, and his generous outlaws of Sherwood forest. Nature herself seemed to be with them; the dense woods and interminable growth screened them from the enemy; the vine and briar guarded the passes; the swamp was their moat; their bulwarks were the deep ravines, which, watched by sleepless riflemen, were quite as impregnable as the castles of the Rhine.
Tom Deering and Cole were kept busy those first days at Snow’s Island; for General Greene, a soldier of great firmness, prudence and forethought had some time before assumed command of the army of the South, and the young scout carried all the despatches between the two camps. One day at the Continental camp Tom was summoned to the tent of the commanding officer. The sentry passed him in, and he stood at the flap of the tent, his hand at the salute, waiting to be addressed.