The attempt upon Georgetown was thus defeated. The British had taken the alarm, and were now in strength, and in a state of vigilance and activity, which precluded the possibility of surprise. Marion's wishes, therefore, with regard to this place, were deferred accordingly to a more auspicious season. He retired to Snow's Island, where he made his camp. This place acquired large celebrity as the "camp of Marion". To this day it is pointed out with this distinguishing title, and its traditionary honors insisted upon. It was peculiarly eligible for his purposes, furnishing a secure retreat, a depot for his arms, ammunition, prisoners and invalids—difficult of access, easily guarded, and contiguous to the scenes of his most active operations. "Snow's Island" lies at the confluence of Lynch's Creek and the Pedee. On the east flows the latter river; on the west, Clark's Creek, issuing from Lynch's, and a stream navigable for small vessels; on the north lies Lynch's Creek, wide and deep, but nearly choked by rafts of logs and refuse timber. The island, high river swamp, was spacious, and, like all the Pedee river swamp of that day, abounded in live stock and provision. Thick woods covered the elevated tracts, dense cane-brakes the lower, and here and there the eye rested upon a cultivated spot, in maize, which the invalids and convalescents were wont to tend.
Here Marion made his fortress. Having secured all the boats of the neighborhood, he chose such as he needed, and destroyed the rest. Where the natural defences of the island seemed to require aid from art, he bestowed it; and, by cutting away bridges and obstructing the ordinary pathways with timber, he contrived to insulate, as much as possible, the country under his command. From this fortress, his scouting parties were sent forth nightly in all directions. Enemies were always easy to be found. The British maintained minor posts at Nelson's Ferry and Scott's Lake, as well as Georgetown; and the Tories on Lynch's Creek and Little Pedee were much more numerous, if less skilfully conducted, than the men of Marion.
Marion's encampment implied no repose, no forbearance of the active business of war. Very far from it. He was never more dangerous to an enemy, than when he seemed quietly in camp. His camp, indeed, was frequently a lure, by which to tempt the Tories into unseasonable exposure. The post at Snow's Island gave him particular facilities for this species of warfare. He had but to cross a river, and a three hours' march enabled him to forage in an enemy's country. Reinforcements came to him daily, and it was only now, for the first time, that his command began to assume the appearance, and exhibit the force of a brigade.* He became somewhat bolder in consequence, in the tone which he used towards the Tories. We find him at this period,** sending forth his officers with orders of a peremptory nature. He writes to Adjutant Postelle: "You will proceed with a party down Black river, from Black Mingo to the mouth of Pedee, and come up to this place. You will take all the boats and canoes from Euhaney up, and impress negroes to bring them to camp—put some men to see them safe. You will take every horse, to whomsoever he may belong, whether friend or foe. You will take all arms and ammunition for the use of our service. You will forbid all persons from carrying any grains, stock, or any sort of provisions to Georgetown, or where the enemy may get them, on pain of being held as traitors, and enemies to the Americans. All persons who will not join you, you will take prisoners and bring to me, &c."
* December 30, 1780.
** Correspondence of Marion, quoted by James.—
He then laid the country under martial law, the proper measure for straitening an enemy, and compelling sluggish and doubtful friends to declare themselves. In this proceeding he was justified by the authority of Governor Rutledge, from whom, with a brigadier's commission, he had received military command over a region of country of vast extent, which the indefatigable partisan contrived to compass and coerce, if not altogether to command and control. Similar orders with those which were given to Postelle, were addressed to Col. P. Horry; and they were both dispatched; the one, as we have seen, between Black and Pedee rivers, the other to Waccamaw Creek. Other parties were sent out in other quarters, with like objects; and, with the whole contiguous country thus placed under the keenest surveillance, Marion hailed the close of the year in his swamp fortress. All these parties were more or less engaged with the enemy, at different periods, while on their scouting expeditions. Several small, but spirited achievements, of which history condescends to furnish no details, occurred among them, in which, however, the partisans were not always successful. One instance may be mentioned. Lieutenant Roger Gordon had been dispatched with a small party to patrol on Lynch's Creek. He suffered himself, while taking refreshments at a house, to be surrounded by a party of Tories, under Capt. Butler. The enemy made good his approaches to the house, and set it on fire. Finding himself greatly outnumbered, and perceiving that resistance would be useless, Gordon surrendered upon terms; but as soon as his party had yielded up their arms, they were murdered to a man. These bloody events were accompanied and followed by others of a like character. Nor were the Tories always, or exclusively guilty. The sanguinary warfare began with them, but it was perpetuated by mutual excesses. Shortly after the murder of Gabriel Marion, the person who was supposed to have been guilty of the savage crime, was taken prisoner by Horry. While on the road, returning to the camp, environed by his guards, the prisoner was shot down by an officer, who escaped detection under cover of the night. Prisoners, after this, were seldom made on either side, where the Whigs and Tories came in conflict. No quarter was given. Safety lay in victory alone, and the vanquished, if they could not find refuge in the swamps, found no mercy from the conqueror. Even where, under the occasional influence of a milder mood, or milder captain, the discomfited were admitted to present mercy, there was still no security for their lives. There were a few infuriated men, who defied subordination, by whom, on both sides, the unhappy captives were sure to be sacrificed.
We need not say, in behalf of Marion, and his superior officers, that, where he or they commanded in person, no countenance was given to these bloody principles and performances. Marion was notoriously the most merciful of enemies. The death of the prisoner in the ranks of Horry, though the unhappy man was charged with the murder of his favorite nephew, was a subject of the greatest soreness and annoyance to his mind; and he warmly expressed the indignation which he felt, at an action which he could not punish.
Chapter 11.
Marion's Camp at Snow's Island—The Character of his
Warfare—Of his Men—Anecdotes of Conyers and Horry—He
feasts a British Officer on Potatoes—Quells a Mutiny.
Marion's career as a partisan, in the thickets and swamps of Carolina, is abundantly distinguished by the picturesque; but it was while he held his camp at Snow's Island, that it received its highest colors of romance. In this snug and impenetrable fortress, he reminds us very much of the ancient feudal baron of France and Germany, who, perched on castled eminence, looked down with the complacency of an eagle from his eyrie, and marked all below him for his own. The resemblance is good in all respects but one. The plea and justification of Marion are complete. His warfare was legitimate. He was no mountain robber,—no selfish and reckless ruler, thirsting for spoil and delighting inhumanly in blood. The love of liberty, the defence of country, the protection of the feeble, the maintenance of humanity and all its dearest interests, against its tyrant—these were the noble incentives which strengthened him in his stronghold, made it terrible in the eyes of his enemy, and sacred in those of his countrymen. Here he lay, grimly watching for the proper time and opportunity when to sally forth and strike. His position, so far as it sheltered him from his enemies, and gave him facilities for their overthrow, was wonderfully like that of the knightly robber of the Middle Ages. True, his camp was without its castle—but it had its fosse and keep—its draw-bridge and portcullis. There were no towers frowning in stone and iron—but there were tall pillars of pine and cypress, from the waving tops of which the warders looked out, and gave warning of the foe or the victim. No cannon thundered from his walls; no knights, shining in armor, sallied forth to the tourney. He was fond of none of the mere pomps of war. He held no revels—"drank no wine through the helmet barred," and, quite unlike the baronial ruffian of the Middle Ages, was strangely indifferent to the feasts of gluttony and swilled insolence. He found no joy in the pleasures of the table. Art had done little to increase the comforts or the securities of his fortress. It was one, complete to his hands, from those of nature—such a one as must have delighted the generous English outlaw of Sherwood forest—isolated by deep ravines and rivers, a dense forest of mighty trees, and interminable undergrowth. The vine and briar guarded his passes. The laurel and the shrub, the vine and sweet scented jessamine, roofed his dwelling, and clambered up between his closed eyelids and the stars. Obstructions, scarcely penetrable by any foe, crowded the pathways to his tent;—and no footstep, not practised in the secret, and 'to the manner born', might pass unchallenged to his midnight rest. The swamp was his moat; his bulwarks were the deep ravines, which, watched by sleepless rifles, were quite as impregnable as the castles on the Rhine. Here, in the possession of his fortress, the partisan slept secure. In the defence of such a place, in the employment of such material as he had to use, Marion stands out alone in our written history, as the great master of that sort of strategy, which renders the untaught militia-man in his native thickets, a match for the best drilled veteran of Europe. Marion seemed to possess an intuitive knowledge of his men and material, by which, without effort, he was led to the most judicious modes for their exercise. He beheld, at a glance, the evils or advantages of a position. By a nice adaptation of his resources to his situation, he promptly supplied its deficiencies and repaired its defects. Till this was done, he did not sleep;—he relaxed in none of his endeavors. By patient toil, by keenest vigilance, by a genius peculiarly his own, he reconciled those inequalities of fortune or circumstance, under which ordinary men sit down in despair. Surrounded by superior foes, he showed no solicitude on this account. If his position was good, their superiority gave him little concern. He soon contrived to lessen it, by cutting off their advanced parties, their scouts or foragers, and striking at their detachments in detail. It was on their own ground, in their immediate presence, nay, in the very midst of them, that he frequently made himself a home. Better live upon foes than upon friends, was his maxim; and this practice of living amongst foes was the great school by which his people were taught vigilance.