“On, on,” cried Washington, waving his sword for his men to follow, “remember the cruelties of these myrmidons. Revenge for our slaughtered countrymen!”
At the word, his men, thus reminded of the butchery of the Waxhaws and of the other atrocities perpetrated under the eye of Tarleton, spurred their horses afresh, and dashed on in pursuit. A complete panic had now taken possession of the royal cavalry, who hurried on at full gallop, each man thinking only of himself. Close on their heels followed the indignant Americans, cutting down mercilessly every red-coat they overtook, until the road was strewed with the dead. Foremost in this pursuit rode Washington, a precedence he owed, not only to his superior steed, but to his eagerness to overtake an officer just ahead, whom he judged to be Tarleton himself from his effort to rally the fugitives.
The tremendous pace at which Washington rode, at last carried him so far ahead of his men, that, at a bend in the highway, he found himself totally alone. At this moment, the British, looking back, perceived his situation, and immediately turned on him, his principal assailants being Tarleton and two powerful dragoons.
Knowing, however, that assistance must be close at hand, Washington resolutely advanced to meet the enemy, determined to seize Tarleton for his prisoner. But, before he could reach the colonel, the two dragoons dashed at him, the one on the right, the other on the left. He saw only the first of them, however, and accordingly turned on him, clove him down with a single blow of his sabre, then rushed at Tarleton himself.
But, meantime, the other dragoon was advancing, totally disregarded, upon him, and with upraised blade would have cut him down, had not our hero, who had pressed close after his leader, at this instant wheeled round the corner of the wood. At a single glance he took in the whole scene. Albert saw that before he could come up Washington would be slain, unless fire-arms were employed. In this emergency he did not hesitate to disobey the orders of his leader. Jerking a pistol from his holster, he aimed full at the dragoon, just as the sabre of the latter was sweeping down on Washington’s head. The man tumbled headlong from his saddle, his sword burying itself, in the dust.
“Ha! who is that?” said Washington, sternly, so astonished to find his orders disobeyed, that he turned; a movement which Tarleton took advantage of to make good his escape. “You, Albert!—you!”
“There was no other way,” answered our hero, and he pointed to the dead dragoon, “to save your life. His sabre was within six inches of you when I fired.”
“It could not be helped, then, I suppose,” answered Washington, who now comprehended the event, and saw that he owed his life to the quickness of thought of his young friend; “but stay, you are yourself hurt.”
As he spoke, he saw blood issuing from the sleeve of Albert, and immediately afterward the young soldier reeled and fell senseless to the ground.
Two pistol shots had been discharged from the enemy, Washington now recollected, immediately after Albert had fired. On examination, one ball was found in the arm of our hero. The other had perforated the coat, immediately over the heart.