"Well, where is colonel Tynes?" said the general, as I entered his presence. This was the question which I had expected, and, indeed, blushed for the answer. But after hearing my doleful story, he replied with his usual philosophy: "Well, you did right to retreat; but pray keep a careful eye on the apple water next time."
But to give the devil his due, I must confess there was one instance, in which I thought some good was done by brandy. This was in the case of captain Snipes and his command, which by way of farce to my own tragedy, I beg leave to relate.
Hearing of a tory camp-meeting not far distant, Marion despatched the brave captain Snipes with a party to chastise them. They had scarcely got upon the tory cruising-ground, before, at a short turn in the road, they came full butt upon a large body of horsemen. Supposing them to be tories, Snipes instantly gave the word to charge; himself leading the way with his usual impetuosity. The supposed tories, wheeling about, took to the sands, and went off, as hard as their horses could stave; and thus, crack and crack, they had it for about two miles.
Finding that Snipes was gaining upon them, the runagates began to lighten themselves of every thing they could spare, and the road was presently strewed with blankets and knapsacks. One of them, it seems, carried a five gallon keg of brandy, which he could not think of parting with; and being well mounted, he stood a good pull for the two first miles. But, finding he was dropping astern very fast, he slyly cut the straps of his mail pillion, and so let his keg, brandy and all go by the run, over his horse's rump. Captain Snipes, who led the chase, found no difficulty in passing the keg: but his men coming up instantly, broached to, all standing; for they could no more pass by a keg of brandy, than young monkeys could pass a basket of apples.
Snipes cursed and raved like a madman, but all in vain: for they swore they must have a dram. While they were devising ways and means how to get into the keg, the supposed tories, now a good distance ahead, came to a halt, and their captain fortunately reflecting that their pursuers might not be enemies, sent back a flag. The result was, the very joyful discovery, that the owners of the keg were good whigs coming to join general Marion. Thus, to a moral certainty, this keg of brandy was made, of kind heaven, the happy means of preventing much bloodshed that day.
Having given two cases of brandy, the one good, the other bad, I will now give a third, which the reader, if he pleases, may call indifferent, and which runs as follows.
General Marion, still encamped in the neighborhood of Georgetown, ordered captain Withers to take sergeant Macdonald, with four volunteers, and go on the enemy's lines to see what they were doing. On approaching the town, they met an old tory; one of your half-witted fellows, whom neither side regarded any more than a Jew does a pig, and therefore suffered him to stroll when and where he pleased. The old man knew captain Withers very well; and as soon as he had got near enough to recollect him, he bawled out, "God's mercy, master Withers! why, where are you going this course?"
"Going, old daddy! why to the devil, perhaps," replied Withers.
"Well faith! that's like enough, captain," said the old man, "especially if you keep on this tack much longer. But before you go any further, suppose you take a pull with me of this," holding up a stout tickler of brandy, "mayhap you may not get such good liquor where you are going."
"With all my heart, daddy," answered Withers, and twigg'd the tickler to the tune of a deep dram: and passed it on to Macdonald, who also twigg'd it, "and Tom twigg'd it, and Dick twigg'd it, and Harry twigg'd it, and so they all twigg'd it." In the mean time the chat went round very briskly, and dram after dram, the brandy, until the tickler was drained to the bottom. And then the subtle spirit of the brandy, ascending into their noddles, worked such wonders, that they all began to feel themselves as big as field officers. Macdonald, for his part, with a face as red as a comet, reined up Selim, and drawing his claymore, began to pitch and prance about, cutting and slashing the empty air, as if he had a score of enemies before him, and ever and anon, roaring out — "Huzza, boys! damme, let's charge!"