From the reduction of fort Watson, we set out immediately in high spirits, for the still nobler attack on fort Motte. For the sake of fine air, and water, and handsome accommodations, the British had erected this fort in the yard of Mrs. Motte's elegant new house, which was nearly enclosed in their works. But alas! so little do poor mortals know what they are about! the fine house, which they had rudely taken from poor Mrs. Motte, proved to the British, what his gay shirt did to Hercules. It wrought their downfall. For, after a fierce contest, in which many valuable lives were lost on both sides, through the sharp shooting of the yaugers, and the still closer cutting of our riflemen, it struck Marion that he could quickly drive the enemy out of the fort, by setting the house on fire. But poor Mrs. Motte! a lone widow, whose plantation had been so long ravaged by the war, herself turned into a log cabin, her negroes dispersed, and her stock, grain, &c. nearly all ruined! must she now lose her elegant buildings too? Such scruples were honorable to the general; but they showed his total unacquaintedness with the excellent widow. For at the first glimpse of the proposition, she exclaimed, "O! burn it! burn it, general Marion! God forbid I should bestow a single thought on my little concerns, when the independence of my country is at stake. — No sir, if it were a palace it should go." She then stepped to her closet and brought out a curious bow with a quiver of arrows, which a poor African boy purchased from on board a Guineaman, had formerly presented her, and said, "Here, general, here is what will serve your purpose to a hair." The arrows, pointed with iron, and charged with lighted combustibles, were shot on top of the house, to which they stuck, and quickly communicated the flames. The British, two hundred in number, besides a good many tories, instantly hung out a white flag in sign of submission.
The excellent Mrs. Motte was present when her fine new house, supposed to be worth six thousand dollars, took fire; and without a sigh, beheld the red spiry billows prevailing over all its grandeur.*
— * Judge William Dobein James, who was present, assures us, in his biography of Marion, that the fire was put out "before much mischief was done". — A. L., 1997. —
The day after the destruction of her house, she invited general Marion with all the officers, British as well as American, to dine with her. Having now no better place of accommodation, she entertained us under a large arbor built in front of her log cabin, where, with great pleasure, I observed that the same lady could one day act the Spartan, and the next the Parisian: thus uniting in herself, the rare qualities of the heroine and the christian. For my life I could not keep my eyes from her. To think what an irreparable injury these officers had done her! and yet to see her, regardless of her own appetite, selecting the choicest pieces of the dish, and helping them with the endearing air of a sister, appeared to me one of the loveliest spectacles I had ever beheld. It produced the happiest effect on us all. Catching her amiable spirit, we seemed to have entirely forgotten our past animosities; and Britons and Americans mingled together, in smiles and cheerful chat, like brothers. I do not recollect a transaction in the whole war, in which I can think that God looked down with higher complacency than on this. And to the day of my death, I shall believe, that God enabled us to beat the British in arms, because we had so far beaten them in generosity. Men, who under such cruel provocations, could display such moderation as we did, must certainly have given our Maker good hope, that we were equal to the glorious business of self-government; or in other words, of living under a republic, which must certainly be his delight, because both implying and producing more wisdom and virtue, than any other government among men.
The name of the British commandant, our prisoner, was Ferguson; and a very pleasant gentleman he was too, as I found on getting acquainted with him, which I soon did. After talking over our various adventures in the war, he asked me if I did not command the cavalry, in the late skirmishing between Watson and Marion. I told him I did. "Well," replied he, "you made a very lucky escape that day: for do you know that we were twelve hundred strong, owing to colonel Small's joining us in the march?"
"Then truly," said I, "if that were the case, I made a lucky escape, sure enough."
"And where were you," he asked again, "when general Marion so completely surprised our guard at Nelson's old fields: were you there?"
I told him I was not, but that my brother, Hugh Horry, was.
"Well," continued he, laughing heartily, "that was MY lucky day. I had a command there that morning of about thirty men, as an advance. We had not left the guard more than five minutes before the Americans charged and swept all. The moment we heard the firing and the cries of our people, we squatted in the high grass like so many rabbits, then running on the stoop, till we gained the woods, we cleared ourselves." I laughed, and asked how many men he supposed Marion had that morning."
He replied, he really did not know, but supposed he must have had three or four hundred.