“Here was a poser. I did not know what it was, but I did not want to go back, so I started to parley with him.
“‘King George hasn’t a more loyal supporter,’ I began to say but had only uttered the first two words, when to my delight he exclaimed:
“‘That’s it, sir; you may go on,’ and on I went.
“It took some time to locate the tent you were in, and the half dozen men about it did not look very promising for your release. But again bold effrontery served me well. Walking straight up to the guard at the door, I told him the General desired another interview with you, and had sent me to conduct you to him. The uniform I wore was his assurance that my demand was genuine, and I was admitted to your presence. I am now wondering what the General will say when he finds you are gone,” and he finished his tale with a chuckle.
“It is useless for me to thank you for what you have done for me tonight,” I began.
“That is what I think,” he responded with a laugh, “so I wouldn’t say anything about it.” Then he added with intense feeling: “Arthur Dunn, the red-coats have burned my home over the heads of my aged father and mother; they have slain my only brother—a lad of your age, and of whom you remind me. In return for this, I have sworn that I will do them all the injury I can. I know of nothing that will provoke the British authorities more than your escape, and that is all the compensation I need.”
It was not yet midnight, and before the sun rose I was again on board the Boston. As I went over the rail, my own watch was in charge of the deck, and at sight of me they broke into three rousing cheers. The noise awakened Captain Tucker, and learning the cause of it, he sent for me. No father could have greeted me more warmly, and almost his first words were those Lieutenant Haines had spoken a few hours earlier:
“If you again fall into the hands of the enemy, don’t give your right name,” a bit of advice I had already made up my mind to follow.
At the close of the following day the British forces arrived at Wappoo Creek, near James Island, and south of the Ashley River. Here they began to throw up entrenchments and prepare themselves for a siege. Their naval forces at the same time drew a little nearer the inner harbor, and formed a line across its entrance so as to blockade it. They also took possession of Beacon House Light, and put a small force within it, and a frigate a few fathoms off shore to protect it with her cannon. These movements were a part of the spiral which during the next two months they wove about the town and which eventually hemmed it in.
From this time also there was continual activity on land and water between our forces—now and then a pitched battle, more often a skirmishing, frequently a naval duel, constantly an endeavor on their part to advance, and no less constantly an effort on our part to check them or to drive them back.