She gave it to him without hesitation. Turner grasped it, pressed it to his lips, and died with the slight effort.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE HAPPY CONSUMMATION.
When Ernshaw returned from the pursuit of Preston and the tory, he found several of the men standing over John Vale, anxiously feeling his breast to see if the breath of life was still left within him. His heart very faintly fluttered, though he lay in a state of utter unconsciousness.
That night Mrs. Vale found beneath her roof, once again, her children; Catherine safe, John dangerously, though not necessarily mortally wounded. For a time his life was held by a feeble thread; but, through a strong constitution and good care, he slowly regained his health and strength.
How in the Carolinas a partisan warfare was waged; how Marion and Sumpter and many other brave-hearted commanders made themselves a terror to the British and tories, how the spirit of freedom could never be quenched, but continued to be made manifest in the midst of the most trying circumstances and the most perilous positions—all this is well-known to the student of American history. For the year following the events just described, Nat Ernshaw’s brigade did noble service in its country’s cause. Sometimes by themselves, again in conjunction with other patriot bands, they swooped down upon a tory gathering, or cut off a detachment of British soldiers. Now here, now there, they but seldom remained long in one place; but Cedar Swamp was ever a rendezvous to which they retired. Here they would take up their quarters at intervals of some weeks, and lie perfectly quiet until intelligence reached them of some occasion where a blow could be struck; then from this spot, like lightning from a thunder cloud, the fires of freedom flashed forth.
Through all the hand-to-hand conflicts, Wild Nat passed safely. A sword stroke on the brow had left a scar, but the wound was not dangerous, for his own blade had carried death to his enemy, and thus paralyzed his well-aimed blow. John Vale, too, was fortunate. While more than one brave comrade fell beside him, he remained untouched. His first wound was his last. As being the best fitted to devise and carry out the campaign, the men placed most implicit confidence in these two. That confidence was never abused.
From the time when Catherine Vale re-entered the walls of her mother’s house, that house was never disturbed. Though houses might blaze around them, and the homesteads of others be desolated, yet was the dwelling of Mrs. Vale unmolested.
At length came an event which filled every true American’s heart with joy. The dark pall which had so long been stretched over the State was lifted. On the 19th of October, 1781, Lord Cornwallis with seven thousand men, surrendered to the American army under General Washington. No event in the history of any nation was ever hailed with more grateful joy than was this. Though the British were still masters of Charleston and Savannah, yet it had the effect of doing away with the necessity of partisan warfare; and marauding bands of tories, and pillaging troops of soldiers were no longer to be met wandering through the States.
The tories, seeing that the war must soon end—and end in the success of the colonies—ceased to rant of the divine right of kings, and began to consider that perhaps it would be best to keep their fingers from off the property of their whig neighbors. They therefore became a source of no further anxiety to the patriots.
Though willing to meet together at any time for the defense of their country, the men of Nat Ernshaw’s brigade disbanded, each one returning to his home.