We pass over a long interval of quite three years. The
vicissitudes of the Revolution had not materially affected the
relations of the several parties to our narrative. During this
period the patriots of South Carolina had been uniformly successful.
They had beaten away the British from their chief
city, and had invariably chastized the loyalists in all their attempts
to make a diversion in favor of the foreign enemy. But

[figure description] Page 266.[end figure description]

events were changing. These performances had not been
effected but at great sacrifice of blood and treasure, and a formidable
British invasion found the state no longer equal to its
defence. Charleston, the capital city, after frequent escapes,
and a stout and protracted defence, had succumbed to the besiegers,
who had now penetrated the interior, covering it with
their strongholds, and coercing it with their arms. For a brief
interval, all opposition to their progress seemed to be at an end
within the state. She had no force in the field, stunned by repeated
blows, and waiting, though almost hopeless of her opportunity.
In the meantime, where was Richard Coulter? A
fugitive, lying perdu either in the swamps of Edisto or Congaree,
with few companions, all similarly reduced in fortune, and
pursued with a hate and fury the most unscrupulous and unrelenting,
by no less a person than Matthew Dunbar, now a captain
of loyalists in the service of George the Third. The position of
Coulter was in truth very pitiable; but he was not without his
consolations. The interval which had elapsed since our first
meeting with him, had ripened his intimacy with Frederica
Sabb. His affections had not been so unfortunate as his patriotism.
With the frank impulse of a fond and feeling heart, he
had appealed to hers, in laying bare the secret of his own; and
he had done so successfully. She, with as frank a nature, freely
gave him her affections, while she did not venture to bestow on
him her hand. His situation was not such as to justify their
union, and her father positively forbade the idea of such a connection.
Though not active among the loyalists, he was now
known to approve of their sentiments; and while giving them
all the aid and comfort in his power, without actually showing
himself in armor, he as steadily turned a cold and unwilling
front to the patriots, and all those who went against the
monarch.

The visits of Richard Coulter to Frederica were all stolen
ones, perhaps not the less sweet for being so. A storm sometimes
brought him forth at nightfall from the shelter of the neighboring
swamp, venturing abroad at a time when loyalty was supposed
to keep its shelter. But these visits were always accompanied
by considerable peril. The eye of Matthew Dunbar was
frequently drawn in the direction of the fugitive, while his

[figure description] Page 267.[end figure description]

passions were always eager in the desire which led him to seek for
this particular victim. The contest was a well-known issue of
life and death. The fugitive patriot was predoomed always to
the halter, by those, who desired to pacify old revenges, or acquire
new estates. Dunbar did not actually know that Coulter
and Frederica Sabb were in the habit of meeting; but that they
had met, he knew, and he had sworn their detection. He had
become a declared suitor of that maiden, and the fears of old
Sabb would not suffer him to decline his attentions to his daughter,
or to declare against them. Dunbar had become notoriously
an unmitigated ruffian. His insolence disgusted the old Dutchman,
who, nevertheless, feared his violence and influence. Still,
sustained by good old Minnicker Sabb, his vrow, the father had
the firmness to tell Dunbar freely, that his daughter's affections
should remain unforced; while the daughter herself, seeing the
strait of her parents, was equally careful to avoid the final necessity
of repulsing her repulsive suitor. She continued, by a
happy assertion of maidenly dignity, to keep him at bay, without
vexing his self-esteem; and to receive him with civility, without
affording him positive encouragement. Such was the condition
of things among our several parties, when the partisan war
began; when the favorite native leaders in the south — the first
panic of their people having passed — had rallied their little
squads, in swamp and thicket, and were making those first demonstrations
which began to disquiet the British authorities, rendering
them doubtful of the conquests which they had so lately
deemed secure. This, be it remembered, was after the defeat
of Gates at Camden, when there was no sign of a Continental
army within the state.

It was at the close of a cloudy afternoon, late in October,
1780, when Mat Dunbar, with a small command of eighteen
mounted men, approached the well-known farmstead of Frederick
Sabb. The road lay along the west bank of the eastern
branch of the Edisto, inclining to or receding from the river, in
correspondence with the width of the swamp, or the sinuosities
of the stream. The farm of Sabb was bounded on one side by
the river, and his cottage stood within a mile of it. Between,
however, the lands were entirely uncleared. The woods offered
a physical barrier to the malaria of the swamp; while the ground,

[figure description] Page 268.[end figure description]

though rich, was liable to freshet, and required a degree of labor
in the drainage which it was not in the power of our good
Dutchman to bestow. A single wagon-track led through the
wood to the river from his house; and there may have been
some half dozen irregular foot-paths tending in the same direction.
When within half a mile from the house, Mat Dunbar
pricked up his ears.

“That was surely the gallop of a horse,” he said to his lieutenant—
a coarse, ruffianly fellow like himself, named Clymes.

“Where away?” demanded the other.

“To the left. Put in with a few of the boys, and see what
can be found.”

Clymes did as he was bidden; but the moment he had disappeared,
Dunbar suddenly wheeled into the forest also, putting
spurs to his horse, and commanding his men to follow and scatter
themselves in the wood. A keen suspicion was at the bottom
of his sudden impulse; and, with his pistol in his grasp, and his
teeth set firmly, he darted away at a rate that showed the eagerness
of the blood-hound, on a warm scent. In a few moments the
wood was covered with his people, and their cries and halloes
answering to each other, turned the whole solitude into a scene
of the most animated life. Accustomed to drive the woods for
deer, his party pursued the same habit in their present quest,
enclosing the largest extent of territory, and gradually contracting
their cordon at a given point. It was not long before a certain
degree of success seemed to justify their pursuit. A loud
shout from Clymes, his lieutenant, drew the impetuous Dunbar
to the place, and there he found the trooper, with two others of
the party, firmly confronted by no less a person than Frederica
Sabb. The maiden was very pale, but her lips were closely
compressed together, and her eyes lightened with an expression
which was not so much indicative of anger as of courage and resolve.
As Dunbar rode up, she addressed him.

“You are bravely employed, Captain Dunbar, in hunting with
your soldiers a feeble woman.”

“In faith, my dear Miss Sabb, we looked for very different
game,” replied the leader, while a sardonic smile played over
his visage. “But perhaps you can put us in the way of finding
it. You are surely not here alone?”

[figure description] Page 269.[end figure description]

“And why not? You are within hail of my father's dwelling.”

“But yours, surely, are not the tastes for lonely walks.”

“Alas! sir, these are scarcely the times for any other.”

“Well, you must permit me to see that your walks are in no
danger from intrusion and insult. You will, no doubt, be confounded
to hear that scattered bands of the rebels are supposed
to be, even now, closely harbored in these swamps. That villain,
Coulter, is known to be among them. It is to hunt up
these outlyers — to protect you from their annoyances, that I
am here now.”

“We can readily dispense with these services, Captain Dunbar.
I do not think that we are in any danger from such enemies,
and in this neighborhood.”

It was some effort to say this calmly.

“Nay, nay, you are quite too confident, my dear Miss Sabb.
You know not the audacity of these rebels, and of this Richard
Coulter in particular. But let me lay hands on him! You will
hardly believe that he is scarce ten minutes gone from this spot.
Did you not hear his horse?”

“I heard no horses but your own.”

“There it is! You walk the woods in such abstraction that
you hear not the danger, though immediately at your ears. But
disperse yourselves in pursuit, my merry men, and whoso brings
me the ears of this outlaw, shall have ten guineas, in the yellow
gold itself. No continental sham! Remember, his ears, boys!
We do not want any prisoners. The trouble of hanging them
out of the way is always wisely saved by a sabre-cut or pistol-bullet.
There, away!”

The countenance of Frederica Sabb instantly assumed the
keenest expression of alarm and anxiety. Her whole frame
began to be agitated. She advanced to the side of the ruffianly
soldier, and put her hand up appealingly.

“Oh! Captain Dunbar, will you not please go home with me,
you and your men? It is now our supper-hour, and the sun is
near his setting. I pray you, do not think of scouring the
woods at this late hour. Some of your people may be hurt.”

“No danger, my dear — all of them are famous fox-hunters.”

“There is no danger to us, believe me. There is nobody in
the woods that we fear. Give yourself no trouble, nor your men.”

[figure description] Page 270.[end figure description]

“Oh, you mistake! there is surely some one in this wood
who is either in your way or mine — though you heard no
horse.”

“Oh! now I recollect, sir, I did hear a horse, and it seemed
to be going in that direction.”

Here the girl pointed below. The tory leader laughed outright.

“And so he went thither, did he? Well, my dear Miss Sabb,
to please you, I will take up the hunt in the quarter directly
opposite, since it is evident that your hearing just now is exceedingly
deceptive. Boys, away! The back-track, hark you! —
the old fox aims to double.”

“Oh, go not — go not!” she urged, passionately.

“Will I not?” exclaimed the loyalist, gathering up his reins
and backing his steed from her — “will I not? Away, Clymes,—
away, boys; and remember, ten guineas for that hand which
brings down the outlaw, Richard Coulter.”

Away they dashed into the forest, scattering themselves in
the direction indicated by their leader. Frederica watched their
departure with an anxious gaze, which disappeared from her
eyes the moment they were out of sight. In an instant all her
agitation ceased.

“Now—thank Heaven for the thought!” she cried — “it will
be quite dark before they find themselves at fault; and when they
think to begin the search below, he will be wholly beyond their
reach. But how to warn him against the meeting, as agreed on.
The coming of this man forbids that. I must see — I must contrive
it.” And with these muttered words of half-meaning, she
quietly made her way toward her father's dwelling, secure of the
present safety of her lover from pursuit. She had very successfully
practised a very simple ruse for his escape. Her apprehensions
were only but admirably simulated; and, in telling Dunbar
that the fugitive had taken one direction, she naturally relied
on his doubts of her truth, to make him seek the opposite. She
had told him nothing but the truth, but she had told it as a falsehood;
and it had all the effect which she desired. The chase
of the tory-captain proved unsuccessful.

Previous section

Next section