Kitabı oku: «The Women of The American Revolution, Vol. 1», sayfa 15

XXI. ELIZABETH, GRACE, AND RACHEL MARTIN,

The daring exploit of two women in Ninety-Six District, furnishes an instance of courage as striking as any remembered among the traditions of South Carolina. During the sieges of Augusta and Cambridge, the patriotic enthusiasm that prevailed among the people prompted to numerous acts of personal risk and sacrifice. This spirit, encouraged by the successes of Sumter and others over the British arms, was earnestly fostered by General Greene, whose directions marked at least the outline of every undertaking. In the efforts made to strike a blow at the invader's power, the sons of the Martin family were among the most distinguished for active service rendered, and for injuries sustained at the enemy's hands. The wives of the two eldest, during their absence, remained at home with their mother-in-law. One evening intelligence came to them that a courier, conveying important despatches to one of the upper stations, was to pass that night along the road, guarded by two British officers. They determined to waylay the party, and at the risk of their lives, to obtain possession of the papers. For this purpose the two young women disguised themselves in their husbands' clothes, and being well provided with arms, took their station at a point on the road which they knew the escort must pass. It was already late, and they had not waited long before the tramp of horses was heard in the distance. It may be imagined with what anxious expectation the heroines awaited the approach of the critical moment on which so much depended. The forest solitude around them, the silence of night, and the darkness, must have added to the terrors conjured up by busy fancy. Presently the courier appeared, with his attendant guards. As they came close to the spot, the disguised women leaped from their covert in the bushes, presented their pistols at the officers, and demanded the instant surrender of the party and their despatches. The men were completely taken by surprise, and in their alarm at the sudden attack, yielded a prompt submission. The seeming soldiers put them on their parole, and having taken possession of the papers, hastened home by a short cut through the woods. No time was lost in sending the important documents by a trusty messenger to General Greene. The adventure had a singular termination. The paroled officers, thus thwarted in their mission, returned by the road they had taken, and stopping at the house of Mrs. Martin, asked accommodation as weary travellers, for the night. The hostess inquired the reason of their returning so soon after they had passed. They replied by showing their paroles, saying they had been taken prisoners by two rebel lads. The ladies rallied them upon their want of intrepidity. "Had you no arms?" was asked. The officers answered that they had arms, but had been suddenly taken off their guard, and were allowed no time to use their weapons. They departed the next morning, having no suspicion that they owed their capture to the very women whose hospitality they had claimed.

The mother of this patriotic family was a native of Caroline County, Virginia. Her name was Elizabeth Marshall, and she was probably of the same family with Chief Justice Marshall, as she belonged to the same neighborhood. After her marriage to Abram Martin, she removed to his settlement bordering on the Indian nation, in Ninety-Six, now Edgefield District, South Carolina. The country at that time was sparsely settled, most of its inhabitants being pioneers from other States, chiefly from Virginia; and their neighborhood to the Indians had caused the adoption of some of their savage habits. The name Edgefield is said to have been given because it was at that period the edge or boundary of the respectable settlers and their cultivated fields. Civilization, however, increased with the population; and in the time of the Revolution, Ninety-Six was among the foremost in sending into the field its quota of hardy and enterprising troops, to oppose the British and their savage allies.

At the commencement of the contest, Mrs. Martin had nine children, seven of whom were sons old enough to bear arms. These brave young men, under the tuition and example of their parents, had grown up in attachment to their country, and ardently devoted to its service, were ready on every occasion to encounter the dangers of border warfare. When the first call for volunteers sounded through the land, the mother encouraged their patriotic zeal. "Go, boys," she said; "fight for your country! fight till death, if you must, but never let your country be dishonored. Were I a man I would go with you."

At another time, when Colonel Cruger commanded the British at Cambridge, and Colonel Browne in Augusta, several British officers stopped at her house for refreshment; and one of them asked how many sons she had. She answered – eight; and to the question, where they all were, replied promptly: "Seven of them are engaged in the service of their country."

"Really, madam," observed the officer, sneeringly, "you have enough of them."

"No sir," said the matron, proudly, "I wish I had fifty."

Her house in the absence of the sons was frequently exposed to the depredations of the tories. On one occasion they cut open her feather beds, and scattered the contents. When the young men returned shortly afterwards, their mother bade them pursue the marauders. One of the continental soldiers having been left at the house badly wounded, Mrs. Martin kindly attended and nursed him till his recovery. A party of loyalists who heard of his being there, came with the intention of taking his life; but she found means to hide him from their search.

The only daughter of Mrs. Martin, Letitia, married Captain Edmund Wade, of Virginia, who fell with his commander, General Montgomery, at the siege of Quebec. At the time of the siege of Charleston by Sir Henry Clinton, the widow was residing with her mother at Ninety-Six. Her son Washington Wade was then five years old, and remembers many occurrences connected with the war.³⁶ The house was about one hundred miles in a direct line west of Charleston. He recollects walking in the piazza on a calm evening, with his grandmother. A light breeze blew from the east; and the sound of heavy cannon was distinctly heard in that direction.³⁷

The sound of cannon heard at that time, and in that part of the State, they knew must come from the besieged city. As report after report reached their ears, the agitation of Mrs. Martin increased. She knew not what evils might be announced; she knew not but the sound might be the knell of her sons, three of whom were then in Charleston. Their wives were with her, and partook of the same heart-chilling fears. They stood still for a few minutes, each wrapped in her own painful and silent reflections, till the mother at length, lifting her hands and eyes towards heaven – exclaimed fervently: – "Thank God, they are the children of the Republic!"

Of the seven patriot brothers, six were spared through all the dangers of partisan warfare in the region of the "dark and bloody ground." The eldest, William M. Martin, was a captain of artillery; and after having served with distinction in the sieges of Savannah and Charleston, was killed at the siege of Augusta, just after he had obtained a favorable position for his cannon, by elevating it on one of the towers constructed by General Pickens. It is related that not long after his death, a British officer passing to Fort Ninety-Six, then in possession of the English, rode out of his way to gratify his hatred to the whigs by carrying the fatal news to the mother of this gallant young man. He called at the house, and asked Mrs. Martin if she had not a son in the army at Augusta. She replied in the affirmative. "Then I saw his brains blown out on the field of battle," said the monster, who anticipated his triumph in the sight of a parent's agony. But the effect of the startling announcement was other than he expected. Terrible as was the shock, and aggravated by the ruthless cruelty with which her bereavement was made known, no woman's weakness was suffered to appear. After listening to the dreadful recital, the only reply made by this American dame was, "He could not have died in a nobler cause!" The evident chagrin of the officer as he turned and rode away, is still remembered in the family tradition.

This eldest son married Grace Waring, of Dorchester, when she was but fourteen years of age. She was the daughter of Benjamin Waring, who afterwards became one of the earliest settlers of Columbia when established as the seat of government in the State. The principles of the Revolution had been taught her from childhood; and her efforts to promote its advancement were joined with those of her husband's family. She was one of the two who risked their lives to seize upon the despatches, as above related. Her husband's untimely death left her with three young children – two sons and a daughter; but she never married again.

Her companion in that daring and successful enterprise was the wife of Barkly Martin, another son.

She was Rachel Clay, the daughter of Henry Clay, Jun., of Mecklenburg County, Virginia, and first cousin to Henry Clay, of Kentucky. She is said to be still living in Bedford County, Tennessee; is about eighty-six years of age, and never had any children. Her sister married Matthew, another of the brothers, and removed to Tennessee. Their family was large and of high respectability. One of the sons is the Hon. Barkly Martin, late member of Congress from that State. His father lived to a great age, and died in Tennessee in October, 1847, about seventy-six years after his first battle-field. The descendants of the other brothers are numerous and respectable in the different southern States.

A tribute is due to the fortitude of those who suffered when the war swept with violence over Georgia. After Colonel Campbell took possession of Savannah in 1778, the whole country was overrun with irregular marauders, wilder and more ruthless than the Cossacks of the Don. As many of the inhabitants as could retire from the storm did so, awaiting a happier time to renew the struggle. One of those who had sought refuge in Florida, was Mr. Spalding, whose establishments were on the river St. John's. He had the whole Indian trade from the Altamaha to the Apalachicola. His property, with his pursuits, was destroyed by the war; yet his heart was ever with his countrymen, and the home he had prepared for his wife was the refuge of every American prisoner in Florida. The first Assembly that met in Savannah re-called him and restored his lands; but could not give back his business, nor secure the debts due; while his British creditors, with their demands for accumulated interest, pressed upon the remnant of his fortune. Under these adverse circumstances, and distressed on account of the losses of her father and brothers, who had taken arms in the American cause, Mrs. Spalding performed her arduous duties with a true woman's fidelity and tenderness. She followed her husband with her child, when flight became necessary; and twice during the war traversed the two hundred miles between Savannah and St. John's River in an open boat, with only black servants on board, when the whole country was a desert, without a house to shelter her and her infant son. The first of these occasions was when she visited her father and brothers while prisoners in Savannah; the second, when in 1782, she went to congratulate her brothers and uncle on their victory. This lady was the daughter of Colonel William McIntosh, and the niece of General Lachlan McIntosh. Major Spalding, of Georgia, is her son.

Mrs. Spalding's health was seriously impaired by the anxieties endured during the struggle, and many years afterwards it was deemed necessary for her to try the climate of Europe. In January, 1800, she, with her son and his wife, left Savannah in a British ship of twenty guns, with fifty men, built in all points to resemble a sloop of war, without the appearance of a cargo. When they had been out about fifteen days, the captain sent one morning at daylight, to request the presence of two of his gentlemen passengers on deck. A large ship, painted black and showing twelve guns on a side, was seen to windward, running across their course. She was obviously a French privateer. The captain announced that there was no hope of out-sailing her, should their course be altered; nor would there be hope in a conflict, as those ships usually carried one hundred and fifty men. Yet he judged that if no effort were made to shun the privateer, the appearance of his ship might deter from an attack. The gentlemen were of the same opinion. Mr. Spalding, heart-sick at thought of the perilous situation of his wife and mother, and unwilling to trust himself with an interview till the crisis was over, requested the captain to go below and make what preparation he could for their security. After a few minutes' absence the captain returned to describe a most touching scene. Mrs. Spalding had placed her daughter-in-law and the other inmates of the cabin for safety in the two state-rooms, filling the berths with cots and bedding from the outer cabin. She had then taken her own station beside the scuttle, which led from the outer cabin to the magazine, with two buckets of water. Having noticed that the two cabin boys were heedless, she had determined herself to keep watch over the magazine. She did so till the danger was past. The captain took in his light sails, hoisted his boarding nettings, opened his ports, and stood on upon his course. The privateer waited till the ship was within a mile, then fired a gun to windward, and stood on her way. This ruse preserved the ship. The incident may serve to show the spirit of this matron, who also bore her high part in the perils of the Revolution.

XXII. DICEY LANGSTON

The portion of South Carolina near the frontier, watered by the Pacolet, the Tyger, and the Ennoree, comprising Spartanburg and Union Districts, witnessed many deeds of violence and blood, and many bold achievements of the hardy partisans. It could also boast its full complement of women whose aid in various ways was of essential service to the patriots. So prevalent was loyalism in the darkest of those days, so bitter was the animosity felt towards the whigs, and so eager the determination to root them from the soil, that the very recklessness of hate gave frequent opportunities for the betrayal of the plans of their enemies. Often were the boastings of those who plotted some midnight surprise, or some enterprise that promised rare pillage – uttered in the hearing of weak and despised women – unexpectedly turned into wonder at the secret agency that had disconcerted them, or execrations upon their own folly. The tradition of the country teems with accounts of female enterprise in this kind of service, very few instances of which were recorded in the military journals.

The patriots were frequently indebted for important information to one young girl, fifteen or sixteen years old at the commencement of the war. This was Dicey, the daughter of Solomon Langston of Laurens District. He was in principle a stout liberty man, but incapacitated by age and infirmities from taking any active part in the contest. His son was a devoted patriot, and was ever found in the field where his services were most needed. He had his home in the neighborhood, and could easily receive secret intelligence from his sister, who was always on the alert. Living surrounded by loyalists, some of whom were her own relatives, Miss Langston found it easy to make herself acquainted with their movements and plans, and failed not to avail herself of every opportunity to do so, and immediately to communicate what she learned to the whigs on the other side of the Ennoree River. At length suspicion of the active aid she rendered was excited among the tory neighbors. Mr. Langston was informed that he would be held responsible thenceforward, with his property, for the conduct of his daughter. The young girl was reproved severely, and commanded to desist from her patriotic treachery. For a time she obeyed the parental injunction; but having heard by accident that a company of loyalists, who on account of their ruthless cruelty had been commonly called the "Bloody Scout," intent on their work of death, were about to visit the "Elder settlement" where her brother and some friends were living, she determined at all hazards to warn them of the intended expedition. She had none in whom to confide; but was obliged to leave her home alone, by stealth, and at the dead hour of night. Many miles were to be traversed, and the road lay through woods, and crossed marshes and creeks, where the conveniences of bridges and foot-logs were wanting. She walked rapidly on, heedless of slight difficulties; but her heart almost failed her when she came to the banks of the Tyger – a deep and rapid stream, which there was no possibility of crossing except by wading through the ford. This she knew to be deep at ordinary times, and it had doubtless been rendered more dangerous by the rains that had lately fallen. But the thought of personal danger weighed not with her, in comparison to the duty she owed her friends and country. Her momentary hesitation was but the shrinking of nature from peril encountered in darkness and alone, when the imagination conjures up a thousand appalling ideas, each more startling than the worst reality. Her strong heart battled against these, and she resolved to accomplish her purpose, or perish in the attempt. She entered the water; but when in the middle of the ford, became bewildered, and knew not which direction to take. The hoarse rush of the waters, which were up to her neck – the blackness of the night – the utter solitude around her – the uncertainty lest the next step should ingulph her past help, confused her; and losing in a degree her self-possession, she wandered for some time in the channel without knowing whither to turn her steps. But the energy of a resolute will, under the care of Providence, sustained her. Having with difficulty reached the other side, she lost no time in hastening to her brother, informed him and his friends of the preparations made to surprise and destroy them, and urged him to send his men instantly in different directions to arouse and warn the neighborhood. The soldiers had just returned from a fatiguing excursion, and complained that they were faint from want of food. The noble girl, not satisfied with what she had done at such risk to herself, was ready to help them still further by providing refreshment immediately. Though wearied, wet, and shivering with cold, she at once set about her preparations. A few boards were taken from the roof of the house, a fire was kindled with them, and in a few minutes a hoe-cake, partly baked, was broken into pieces, and thrust into the shot pouches of the men. Thus provisioned, the little company hastened to give the alarm to their neighbors, and did so in time for all to make their escape. The next day, when the "scout" visited the place, they found no living enemy on whom to wreak their vengeance.

At a later period of the war, the father of Miss Langston incurred the displeasure of the loyalists in consequence of the active services of his sons in their country's cause. They were known to have imbibed their principles from him; and he was marked out as an object of summary vengeance. A party came to his house with the desperate design of putting to death all the men of the family. The sons were absent; but the feeble old man, selected by their relentless hate as a victim, was in their power. He could not escape or resist; and he scorned to implore their mercy. One of the company drew a pistol, and deliberately levelled it at the breast of Langston. Suddenly a wild shriek was heard; and his young daughter sprang between her aged parent and the fatal weapon. The brutal soldier roughly ordered her to get out of the way, or the contents of the pistol would be instantly lodged in her own heart. She heeded not the threat, which was but too likely to be fulfilled the next moment. Clasping her arms tightly round the old man's neck, she declared that her own body should first receive the ball aimed at his heart! There are few human beings, even of the most depraved, entirely insensible to all noble and generous impulses. On this occasion the conduct of the daughter, so fearless, so determined to shield her father's life by the sacrifice of her own, touched the heart even of a member of the "Bloody Scout." Langston was spared; and the party left the house filled with admiration at the filial affection and devotion they had witnessed.

At another time the heroic maiden showed herself as ready to prevent wrong to an enemy as to her friends. Her father's house was visited by a company of whigs, who stopped to get some refreshment, and to feed their wearied horses. In the course of conversation one of them mentioned that they were going to visit a tory neighbor, for the purpose of seizing his horses. The man whose possessions were thus to be appropriated had been in general a peaceful citizen; and Mr. Langston determined to inform him of the danger in which his horses stood of having their ownership changed. Entering cordially into her father's design, Miss Langston set off immediately to carry the information. She gave it in the best faith; but just before she started on her return home, she discovered that the neighbor whom she had warned was not only taking precautions to save his property, but was about to send for the captain of a tory band not far distant, so that the "liberty men" might be captured when intent on their expedition, before they should be aware of their danger. It was now the generous girl's duty to perform a like friendly act towards the whigs. She lost no time in conveying the intelligence, and thus saved an enemy's property, and the lives of her friends.

Her disregard of personal danger, where service could be rendered, was remarkable. One day, returning from a whig neighborhood in Spartanburg District, she was met by a company of loyalists, who ordered her to give them some intelligence they desired respecting those she had just left. She refused; whereupon the captain of the band held a pistol to her breast, and ordered her instantly to make the disclosures, or she should "die in her tracks." Miss Langston only replied, with the cool intrepidity of a veteran soldier: "Shoot me if you dare! I will not tell you," at the same time opening a long handkerchief which covered her neck and bosom, as if offering a place to receive the contents of the weapon. Incensed by her defiance, the officer was about to fire, when another threw up his hand, and saved the courageous girl's life.

On one occasion, when her father's house was visited on a plundering expedition by the noted tory Captain Gray with his riflemen, and they had collected and divided every thing they thought could be of use, they were at some loss what to do with a large pewter basin. At length the captain determined on taking that also, jeeringly remarking, "it will do to run into bullets to kill the rebels."

"Pewter bullets, sir," answered Miss Langston, "will not kill a whig."

"Why not?" inquired Captain Gray. "It is said, sir," replied she, "that a witch can be shot only with a silver bullet; and I am sure the whigs are more under the protection of Providence." At another time when a company of the enemy came to the house they found the door secured. To their demand for admission and threats of breaking down the door, Miss Langston answered by sternly bidding them begone. Her resolute language induced the company to "hold a parley;" and the result was, that they departed without further attempt to obtain an entrance.

One more anecdote is given to illustrate her spirit and fearlessness. Her brother James had left a rifle in her care, which she was to keep hid till he sent for it. He did so, by a company of "liberty men," who were to return by his father's dwelling. On arriving at the house, one of them asked the young girl for the gun. She went immediately, and brought it; but as she came towards the soldiers, the thought struck her that she had neglected to ask for the countersign agreed upon between her brother and herself. Advancing more cautiously – she observed to them that their looks were suspicious; that for aught she knew they might be a set of tories; and demanded the countersign. One of the company answered that it was too late to make conditions; the gun was in their possession, and its holder, too. "Do you think so," cried she, cocking it, and presenting the muzzle at the speaker. "If the gun is in your possession, take charge of her!" Her look and attitude of defiance showed her in earnest; the countersign was quickly given; and the men, laughing heartily, pronounced her worthy of being the sister of James Langston.

After the war was ended, Miss Langston married Thomas Springfield, of Greenville, South Carolina. She died in Greenville District, a few years since. Of her numerous descendants then living, thirty-two were sons and grandsons capable of bearing arms, and ready at any time to do so in the maintenance of that liberty which was so dear to the youthful heart of their ancestor.³⁸

The recollection of the courage and patriotism of Mrs. Dillard is associated with the details of a battle of considerable importance, which took place in Spartanburg District, at the Green Spring, near Berwick's iron works. The Americans here gained great honor. Colonel Clarke, of the Georgia volunteers, joined with Captains McCall, Liddle, and Hammond, in all about one hundred and ninety-eight men – having received intelligence that a body of tory militia, stated to be from two to five hundred, commanded by Colonel Ferguson, were recruiting for the horse service – determined to attempt to rout them.³⁹

They marched accordingly; and hearing that a scouting party was in advance of Ferguson's station, prepared to give them battle. Colonel Clarke, with his forces, encamped for the night at Green Spring.

On that day the Americans had stopped for refreshment at the house of Captain Dillard, who was with their party as a volunteer. They had been entertained by his wife with milk and potatoes – the simple fare which those hardy soldiers often found it difficult to obtain. The same evening Ferguson and Dunlap, with a party of tories, arrived at the house. They inquired of Mrs. Dillard whether Clarke and his men had not been there; what time they had departed; and what were their numbers? She answered that they had been at the house; that she could not guess their numbers; and that they had been gone a long time. The officers then ordered her to prepare supper for them with all possible despatch. They took possession of the house, and took some bacon to be given to their men. Mrs. Dillard set about the preparations for supper. In going backwards and forwards from the kitchen, she overheard much of their conversation. It will be remembered that the kitchens at the South are usually separate from the dwelling-houses. The doors and windows of houses in the country being often slightly constructed, it is also likely that the loose partitions afforded facilities for hearing what might be said within. Besides, the officers probably apprehended no danger from disclosing their plans in the presence of a lonely woman.

She ascertained that they had determined to surprise Clarke and his party; and were to pursue him as soon as they had taken their meal. She also heard one of the officers tell Ferguson he had just received the information that the rebels, with Clarke, were to encamp that night at the Great Spring. It was at once resolved to surprise and attack them before day. The feelings may be imagined with which Mrs. Dillard heard this resolution announced. She hurried the supper, and as soon as it was placed upon the table, and the officers had sat down, slipped out by a back way. Late and dark as it was, her determination was to go herself and apprize Clarke of his danger, in the hope of being in time for him to make a safe retreat; for she believed that the enemy were too numerous to justify a battle.

She went to the stable, bridled a young horse, and without saddle, mounted and rode with all possible speed to the place described. It was about half an hour before day when she came in full gallop to one of the videttes, by whom she was immediately conducted to Colonel Clarke. She called to the colonel, breathless with eagerness and haste, "Be in readiness either to fight or run; the enemy will be upon you immediately, and they are strong!"

In an instant every man was up, and no moments were lost in preparing for action. The intelligence came just in time to put the whigs in readiness. Ferguson had detached Dunlap with two hundred picked mounted men, to engage Clarke and keep him employed till his arrival. These rushed in full charge into the American camp; but the surprise was on their part. They were met hand to hand, with a firmness they had not anticipated. Their confusion was increased by the darkness, which rendered it hard to distinguish friend from foe. The battle was warm for fifteen or twenty minutes, when the tories gave way. They were pursued nearly a mile, but not overtaken. Ferguson came "too late for the frolic;" the business being ended. Clarke and his little band then returned to North Carolina for rest and refreshment; for the whole of this enterprise was performed without one regular meal, and without regular food for their horses.

Mrs. Angelica Nott, widow of the late Judge Nott, of South Carolina, remembers some illustrative incidents which occurred in the section where she resided with her aunt, Mrs. Potter, near the Grindal Shoal, a little south of Pacolet River. The whig population in this portion of the State, were exposed during part of 1780 and 1781 to incredible hardships. The breezes of fortune which had fanned into life the expiring embers of opposition to English tyranny, had been so variable that the wavering hopes of the people were often trembling on the verge of extinction. The reverses of the British arms had exasperated the loyalists, and embittered the enmity felt towards the stubborn people who refused to be conquered. Such was the state of feeling when the destiny of the South was committed to the hands of a soldier of consummate genius, in whom the trust of all was implicitly placed.