[figure description] Page 155.[end figure description]

The little force led by Singleton in advance of his
main body continued to make acquisitions at every
step of its progress. The scouts of Marion, lining the
woods at convenient intervals from each other, were
soon notified of the approach of friends by the peculiar
whistle which Thumbscrew employed; a whistle
shrill in itself, and singularly modulated, which Marion's
men were all taught to understand. They came out,
one by one, from the bush; brought out their hidden
horses, and each, answering to his nom de guerre, as it
was called out by Thumbscrew, took his place along
with the advancing party. There were Supple Jack
and Crabstick, Red Possum and Fox Squirrel, Slickfoot
and Old Ben; all men of make and mettle, trusty
and true, and all of them, in after years, winning a
goodly reputation in the land, which the venerable tradition,
in sundry places, will “not willingly let die.”

The river was now at hand, and Thumbscrew was
required to give the signal to the scouts who were at
watch along its banks. He did so, and the effect was
admirable. From one bush to another, cover to cover,
they all gave back the emulous sounds. The old cypress
had a voice from its hollow, the green bush from
its shade, and the shrill echoes rollingly arose from the
crowding leaves of the thick tree that overhung the
river, reverberating far away along its bosom. The
signal was but once repeated, and all was still for
a moment. Suddenly, the approaching troop heard
the plash of paddles, the plunge of a horse in
the water, and a quick, lively blast from the common

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horn, the sounds seeming to arise from the swamp on
the opposite shore. Pushing his steed forward, and
followed by his men, Singleton rode up to the bluff of
the river, just as the last gay glimpses of the setting
sun hung like so many rose-streaks upon its bosom,
trembling to and fro like so much gossamer on the
green edges of the gathering foliage.

And what a sight, in addition, was before their eyes!
The surface of the river was strown with boats of all
sorts and sizes. A dozen or more, filled with the men
of Marion, were in progress from one side of the stream
to the other, while they towed behind them as many
more, laden with live-stock and provisions—a large assessment
having just been made upon the farmsteads
of the neighbouring tories. They had reached the centre
of the stream, when the signal of the scouts struck
their ears; and the quick command of their leader,
the renowned partisan—for it was Marion himself who
led them—arrested their farther progress. He stood
erect when the troopers rode up to the bank; and
the eye of Singleton soon distinguished him from the
rest. Yet there was little in his appearance, to the
casual spectator, to mark him out from his compatriots.
His habiliments were not superior to theirs. They
had borne the brunt of strife, and needed, quite as much
as many of the rest, the friendly hand of repair and restoration.
His person was small, even below the middle
stature, and exceedingly lean and slender. His body
was well-set, however, with the exception of his knees
and ankles, which were thick, incompact, and badly
formed. At the time, he rested almost entirely upon
one leg—the other being at ease upon the gunwale of
the boat. He still suffered pain in one of his limbs
from a recent hurt; and in walking, an unpleasant limping
movement was readily perceptible. His dress, as
Singleton now beheld him, was one rather unusual for a
commanding officer from whom so much was expected.
It consisted of a close-bodied jacket, of a deep crimson
colour, but of coarse texture. His smallclothes, of
the fashion of the day, were badly conceived for such

[figure description] Page 157.[end figure description]

a figure as his. The free Turkish trowsers might
have concealed those defects which the closely fitting
fashions of the time rendered unnecessarily conspicuous.
His were of a blue stuff, coarse, like the jacket,
and made with exceeding plainness, without stripe or
ornament of any description, beyond the frog of his
sword, the small cut-and-thrust which hung rather low
at his side. A white handkerchief about his neck,
wound loosely, accorded strangely with the rest of
his dress, and did not seem, in its disposition, to have
tasked much of the care, in arrangement, of the wearer.
His uniform, if so it may be styled, was completed by
the round leathern cap, forming a part of the dress
which he wore when an officer in the second South
Carolina regiment, and bore in front a silver crescent,
with the words, “Liberty or Death,” inscribed beneath.
He wore no plume, but in its place a white cockade,
which was worn by all his men, in order that they
might be more readily distinguished in their night actions
with the tories. Such was the garb of the famous
guerilla—the Swamp Fox—of Carolina. The features
of his face did not ill accord with the style of his garments.
His skin was dark and swarthy; his eyes, black, piercing,
and quick; his forehead, high, full, and commanding;
his nose was aquiline; his chin bold and projecting,
though not sharp; and his cheek sunken, and deeply
touched with the lines of thought. He was now forty-eight
years of age—in the very vigour of his manhood—
hardened by toil and privation, and capable of
enduring every sort of fatigue. Cool and steady, inflexible,
unshrinking; never surprised; never moving
without his object, and always with the best design for
effecting it—Marion, perhaps, of all the brave men engaged
in the war of American liberty, was the one
best calculated for the warfare of the partisan. His
patriotism, wisdom, and fearlessness moved always together,
and were alike conspicuous. Never despairing
of his cause, he was always cheerful in vicissitude,
and elastic under defeat. His mind rose, with renewed
vigour, from the press of necessity; and every new form

[figure description] Page 158.[end figure description]

of trial only stimulated him to newer and more successful
efforts. His moral and military character, alike,
form the most perfect models for the young, that can be
furnished by the history of any individual of any nation.

The paddles of the rowers were lifted as Singleton
appeared in sight. The boats rested in the centre of
the river, and, shading his eye with his hand, Marion
closely noted the troop as its several members wound
out of the woods and gathered along the bank. He
did not need much time in the survey, before his keen
eye singled out the persons of such of the new-comers
as he had before known. His voice, strong, regular,
and even in its utterance, though at the same time subdued
and musical, was heard immediately after.

“Ah, Major Singleton, you are as prompt as ever.
I rejoice to see you. You come in good season, though
you come but poorly accompanied.”

A few words from Singleton explained the cause of
his apparent weakness, and the orders of Marion were
promptly given.

“Lieutenant Conyers, throw off the empty boats and
put back after me in your own, leaving the spare ones.
Take the whole of them, for the squad of Major Singleton
will doubtless fill them all. McDonald, convey
the rest to the camp, and let Oscar[3] bring Ball†
with him. It may be difficult otherwise to get the
strange horses over, and there is no flat.”

With these, and a few other instructions, Marion led
the way back to where Singleton with his troop
awaited him; and a few minutes only had elapsed
when they stood once more together in close conference.
The brief history of past events was soon
given, and the major was delighted to meet with the
unqualified approval of his superior. He learned from
Marion that his uncle had gone on to join with Gates
only a few hours before his arrival, having been anxious
to find active service at as early a time as

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possible. He had not endeavoured to dissuade him, as his
was an independent commission; though the determination
of Marion himself, was to proceed with the same
object in the same direction. His force, with the recruits
brought by Singleton, was now something more
respectable in form if not in equipment. In arms and
ammunition, not to speak of clothes and the usual
equipages of camp and horse, they were miserably deficient;
but with the hope that the continentals were
provided well, and with a surplus, this matter gave the
partisan but little concern. A small supply of shot and
powder which Humphries had contrived to procure in
Dorchester, came seasonably to his assistance; and
with a new hope from this seasonable arrival of his
men, Marion determined earnestly to press his advance
to a union with the commanding force supposed to be
coming on with Gates.

To Singleton he partially unfolded his determination,
though he entered into no particulars. He had not yet
determined as to the time and route of his purposed
movement. It was necessary that he should first ascertain
the precise position of Gates; and, again, he
had the duty yet to perform, in part, which he had voluntarily
undertaken, of destroying all the boats upon
the river at the various crossing places, which might
otherwise be employed to facilitate the progress of
Lord Cornwallis to the assistance of Rawdon at Camden,
upon which place it was now understood the first
effort of the approaching southern army would be
made. There was little doubt that Cornwallis would
soon be apprised, if, indeed, he was not already, of the
necessity for his presence at Camden; for though Singleton
had arrested one courier, and Marion himself
another, it was not to be expected that others would
not succeed in passing with intelligence where the
line of country to be watched was so extensive as
to call for ten times the active force of Marion, with
the hope of doing so with any thing like reasonable
certainty. To retard the movements of the commander
at Charlestown—to keep him back until Gates

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should be able to strike his first blow, was an object
quite too important to be foregone or given up but with
great effort; and, an understanding between Sumter
and Marion, had assigned one of the two leading
routes to the designated ground of battle to each of the
partisans. Marion had done much already towards his
object. He had destroyed more than two hundred boats
on both sides of the river, sparing neither canoe nor
periagua. All within reach had been broken up, save
the few which he still employed for his own purposes
in the swamp, gathering provisions, and for the facilitation
of his own progress. Another day, and Singleton
would not have found it so easy to

“Swim the Esk river, where ford there was none.”

That night, as soon as the whole party had come
up, the passage was effected, and without any great difficulty.
The horses swam beside the boats, secured by
ropes and bridles, while their riders, for the time, occupied
a more secure seat within them than they might
have done upon their saddles. Ball, the famous horse
of Marion, led the way for the rest, and he went
through the water as freely and fearlessly as a native
born to the element. The rest followed with some
little shivering and restiveness, but, with the boats,
soon reached their depth, and were then mounted and
ridden through the river-sedge, over the fallen tree, and
safely, at length, into the island thicket which formed
the hiding-place of the Swamp Fox on the Santee.
The boats, filled with the women, children, and prisoners,
under a small guard, had a more tedious, though
more secure and easy passage to the same spot. Soon
as they left the current of the river and got within the
foliage, the swamp-suckers, with an old experience,
seized upon their long canes, twenty feet in length, to
the end of each of which a prong of the deer's antlers,
and sometimes a crotch stick of some hard wood, had
been tightly fastened. With these, catching the overhanging
limbs and branches that fenced in a crooked
creek that led to the island, they drew themselves

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along. Without dip of oar, or plash of paddle, silently
and still, as if endued with a life of its own, the boat
swept through its natural abode, a familiar tenant of its
depths. Torches flashed along at intervals upon the
banks to guide them, but they were perfectly unnecessary
to the frequent dwellers in the swamp. They
who steered and led the way could have travelled by
night and day, unfearing, and unswerving from their
designated path, with the ease of a citizen along the
high road. The rapidity of their movements through
scenes only distinguishable when the torch flashed
over them, delighted and astonished the men from the
low country, who now traversed them for the first time.
Porgy was absolutely overcome with anticipations.
He could not refrain—such was the good humour which
the novelty of their progress inspired—from addressing
Doctor Oakenburg, who sat beside him in the boat, on
the subject of his musings.

“This, Doctor Oakenburg,” said he, “this is a region—
so Major Singleton tells me—which, in the language
of Scripture, may be said to flow with milk and
honey.”

The doctor, terrified before into silence, was now
astounded into speech.

“Milk and honey!” he exclaimed, with wondering.

“Ay, doctor, milk and honey! that is to say, with
fish and terrapin, which I take to mean the same
thing, since nobody would desire any land in which
there was no meat. The land of milk and honey simply
means to convey the idea of a land full of all
things that men of taste can relish; or we may even
go farther in this respect, and consider it a land teeming
with all things for all tastes. Thus, yours, Doctor
Oakenburg—even your vile taste for snakes and eels has
been consulted here not less than mine for terrapin.
Along the same tussock on which the bullet-head reposes,
you will see the moccasin crawling confidently.
In the same luxurious wallow with the hog, you will
behold the sly alligator watching him. The summer
duck, with its glorious plumage, skims along the same

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muddy lake, on the edge of which the d—d bodiless
crane screams and crouches; and there are no possible
extremes in nature to which a swamp, like this, will not
give shelter, and furnish something to arouse and satisfy
the appetite. It is a world in itself, and, as I said before,
with a figurative signification of course, it is indeed a
land of milk and honey.”

“Land indeed!” said one of the troopers; “I don't
see much of that yet. Here's nothing but rotten trees
and mud-holes, that I can make out when the lightwood
blazes.”

“Never mind, my lark,” said one of the conductors
in a chuckling reply; “wait a bit, and you'll see the
blessedest land you ever laid eyes on. It's the very
land, as the big-bellied gentleman says, that's full of
milk and honey; for, you see, we've got a fine range,
and the cattle's plenty, and when the sun's warm you'll
hear the bee trees at midday—and such a music as
they'll give you! Don't be afeard now, and we'll soon
come to it.”

“I doubt not, my good friend, I doubt not, and I rejoice
that your evidence so fully supports my opinion.
Your modes of speech are scarcely respectful enough,
however; for though a man's teeth are prime agents and
work resolutely enough for his belly, yet it is scarcely
the part of good manners to throw one's belly continually
into one's teeth,” Porgy responded gravely.

“Oh, that's it,” said the other; “well, now don't be
skittish, mister, for though I am Roaring Dick, I never
roars at any of our own boys, and I likes always to be
civil to strangers. But it's always the way with us,
when we don't know a man's name, to call him after
that part that looks the best about him. There's
Tom Hazard now, we calls him by no other name
than Nosey; 'cause, you see, his nose is the most rumbunctious
part that he's got, and its almost the only part
you see when you first look on him. Then there's
Bill Bronson—as stout a lark as you've seed for
many a day—now, as he's blind of one eye and can
hardly see out o' t'other, we calls him Blinky Bill, and he

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never gets his back up, though he's a main quick hand
if you poke fun at him. So, stranger, you must not
mind when we happen to call you after the most respectable
part.”

“Respectable part! I forgive you, my friend—you're
a man of taste. Dr. Oakenburg, your d—d hatchet
hip is digging into my side; can't you move a jot
farther? There, that will do; I am not desirous of
suffering martyrdom by hip and thigh.”

“Now we're most home,” said Master Roaring
Dick to his little crew. “One more twirl in the creek,
and you'll see the lights and the island; there, there it
is. Look, now, stranger, look for yourself, where the
Swamp Fox hides in the daylight, to travel abroad
with old blear-eye—the owl, that is—when the round
moon gets out of her roost.”

And grand and imposing, indeed, was the scene that
now opened upon Porgy and the rest, as they swept
round the little bend in the waters of the creek, and
the deeply imbowered camp of the partisan lay before
them. Twenty different fires, blazing in all quarters
of the island, illuminated it with a splendour which no
palace pomp could emulate. The thick forest walls
that girdled them in, were unpierced by the rays; they
were too impenetrably dense even for their splendours,
and like so many huge and blazing pillars, the larger
trees seemed to crowd forward into the light with a
solitary stare that made solemn the entire and wonderful
picturesqueness of the scene. Group after group of
persons, each with its own vocation, gathered around the
distinct fires, while horses neighed under convenient
trees; saddles and bridles, sabres and blankets, hung
from their branches, and the cheery song from little
parties the more remote, made lively the deep seclusion
of that warlike abiding-place. The little boat floated
fairly up to one of the fires; a dozen busy hands at
once assisted the new-comers to alight, and a merry
greeting hailed the acquisition of countrymen and
comrades. Boat after boat, in the same way, pressed
up to the landing, and all in turn were assisted by

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friendly hands and saluted with cheering words and
encouragement. It was not long before the strangers,
with the readiness which belongs to a life like theirs,
chose their companions in mess and adventure, and
began to adapt themselves to one another. Lively chat,
the hearty glee, the uncouth but pleasant jest, not forgetting
the plentiful supper, enlivened the first three
hours after the arrival of Singleton's recruits, and
fitted them generally for those slumbers to which
they now prepared to hasten.

“Well, Tom,” said Porgy to his old retainer, as he
hurried to his tree, from a log, around which his evening's
meal had been eaten in company with Roaring
Dick, Oakenburg, and one or two others—“well, Tom,
considering how d—d badly those perch were fried, I
must confess I enjoyed them. But I was too hungry
to discriminate; and I should have tolerated much
worse stuff than that. But we must take care of this,
Tom, in future. It is not always that hunger helps us to
sauce, and such spice is a d—d bad dish for us when
lacking cayenne.”

Porgy threw off his coat, unbuckled the belt from
his waist, and prepared himself to lie down; but a moment's
inspection of his couch counselled him to be discontented.

“This won't do, Tom: you must bring me some
more rushes—a good armful, boy—and no finicking.
Look you, is that a blanket, Tom—there, hanging from
that limb?”

“Yes sa; dah blanket—him b'long to somebody, I
'speck.”

“Very likely, Tom; but God knows I'm somebody;
I have some body at least to take care of—so bring it
to me.”

The blanket was brought, the gourmand wrapped it
carefully around him, put his saddle under his head
for a pillow, bade Tom take cover behind him, and
stretched himself, at length, for the night. A few moments
after, the owner of the blanket came looking for
his property, and never did nose insist more religiously
upon its master's slumber, than did that of Porgy.

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The man surveyed the huge body of the gourmand, and
his eye particularly noted the blanket in which he lay;
but the torch which he carried gave too partial a light
to permit of his assuming with certainty that it was
his, and he moved away at last, to the great satisfaction
of Porgy, leaving him in undisturbed possession
of his prize.

eaf358v2.n3

[3] His favourite servant.

eaf358v2.dag1

† Ball, his horse—a noble animal, that always led the advance in
swimming the rivers.