Part 15

After such unwelcome visitors, it is not surprising that the unprotected women could not eat or sleep in peace. They lay in their clothes every night, alarmed by the least noise; while the days were spent in anxiety and melancholy. One morning, when Mrs. Wilkinson was coming out of her chamber, her eyes fixed on the window--for she was continually on the watch--she saw something glitter through a thin part of the wood bordering the road. It proved to be the weapons of a large body of soldiers. As they came from the direction of the enemy's encampment, she concluded they were British troops; and every one in the house took the alarm. "Never was there such a scene of confusion. Sighs, complaints, wringing of hands--one running here, another there, spreading the dreadful tidings; and in a little time the negroes in the field came running up to the house with a hundred stories. Table, tea-cups--all the breakfast apparatus, were immediately huddled together and borne off; and we watched sharply to see which way the enemy (as we supposed them) took. But, oh! horrible! in a minute or two we saw our avenue crowded with horsemen in uniform. Said I, 'that looks like our uniform--blue and red;' but I immediately recollected to have heard that the Hessian uniform was much like ours; so out of the house we went, into an out-house." Their excessive fright prevented the explanation attempted from being understood. While the officer was endeavoring to re-assure the terrified ladies, a negro woman came up, and tapping Mrs. Wilkinson on the shoulder, whispered, "I don't like these men; one of them gave me this piece of silver for some milk; and I know our people don't have so much silver these times."

Their dismay and terror were groundless; for the horsemen were a party of Americans, under the command of Major Moore. The one taken for a Hessian was a French officer. The mistake had been mutual; the distress shown at sight of them having caused the officer in command to conclude himself and his men unwelcome visitors to some tory family. The discovery that they were friends changed fear into delight. "They then laughed at me," says Mrs. Wilkinson, "heartily for my fright--saying that they really expected, by the time I had done wringing my hands, I would have no skin left upon them; but now they knew the reason they no longer wondered."

Word was presently brought that a number of the enemy were carrying provisions from a plantation about two miles distant. The whigs marched to the place, and returned with seven prisoners. Two of these were of M'Girth's party, who had treated the ladies so cruelly; yet notwithstanding the injuries received, the kind heart of Mrs. Wilkinson relented at the sight of them. She expressed pity for their distress, calling them _friends_, because they were in the power of her countrymen; and interceded for them with the captors. Enquiring if they would like any thing to drink, she supplied them with the water they craved, holding the glass to their lips, as their hands were tied behind them. Several of the American officers, who had gathered at the door and window, were smiling at the unusual scene. "In the meanwhile," she writes, "Miss Samuells was very busy about a wounded officer, (one of M'Girth's,) who had been brought to the house. He had a ball through his arm; we could find no rag to dress his wounds, everything in the house being thrown into such confusion by the plunderers; but (see the native tenderness of an American!) Miss Samuells took from her neck the only remaining handkerchief the Britons had left her, and with it bound up his arm."

Their friends having left them, Mr. Yonge sent for his daughter to his own plantation. The ladies were obliged to walk three miles, the horses having been taken away; but umbrellas were sent for them, and they were attended by two of Mr. Yonge's negro men armed with clubs. While crossing a place called the Sands, the blacks captured and wounded a negro belonging to the loyalists, who came out of the woods. Mrs. Wilkinson interfered to save his life; and to insure the safety of the poor creature who claimed her protection, and who was dragged on rapidly by his captors--they fearing pursuit--was obliged to walk very fast, leaving the others behind, till she was ready to faint from fatigue and the overpowering heat. They arrived safe at her father's, whence they were driven ere long by another alarm. This time their flight was in darkness, through bogs and woods, stumbling against the stumps or each other. In their new abode they had more security. Parties of friends were out continually, keeping the enemy quiet; and sometimes in the night soldiers would ride up, and bid the negroes tell the ladies they might sleep soundly, for they were to maintain a patrol during the night.

At length the arrival of General Lincoln was announced; and he was joyfully welcomed by the inmates of the house. That night two or three hundred men were quartered on the plantation--some of the officers sleeping in the hall. They refused to have beds made. "Beds were not for soldiers; the floor or the earth served them as well as anywhere else." At daybreak they moved to camp. Another alarm occurred, and General Lincoln's defeat near Stono Ferry, caused the retreat of the family to Willtown. Our writer's pen had thence to record only new aggressions and sufferings.

The siege and capitulation of Charleston brought the evils under which the land had groaned, to their height. The hardships endured by those within the beleaguered city--the gloomy resignation of hope--the submission to inevitable misfortune, have been described by abler chroniclers. The general feeling is expressed in a letter from a soldier to his wife, written twelve days before the event:

"Our affairs are daily declining; and not a ray of hope remains to assure us of our success.. . .

I expect to have the liberty of soon returning to you; but the army must be made prisoners of war. This will give a rude shock to the independence of America; and a Lincolnade will be as common a term as a Burgoynade.... A mortifying scene must be encountered; the thirteen stripes will be levelled in the dust; and I owe my life to the clemency of the conqueror."

After the surrender, Mrs. Wilkinson visited the city, went on board the prison-ship, and drank coffee with the prisoners awaiting an exchange. She saw the departure of her friends who were driven into exile, and indulged herself occasionally in provoking her enemies by sarcastic sallies. "Once," she writes, "I was asked by a British officer to play the guitar.

"'I cannot play; I am very dull.'

"'How long do you intend to continue so, Mrs. Wilkinson?'

"'Until my countrymen return, sir!'

"'Return as what, madam?--prisoners or subjects?'

"'As conquerors, sir!'

"He affected a laugh. 'You will never see that, madam!'

"'I live in hopes, sir, of seeing the thirteen stripes hoisted once more on the bastions of this garrison.'

"'Do not hope so; but come, give us a tune on the guitar.'

"'I can play nothing but rebel songs.'

"'Well, let us have one of them.'

"'Not to-day--I cannot play--I will not play; besides, I suppose I should be put into the Provost for such a heinous crime.'

"I have often wondered since, I was not packed off, too; for I was very saucy, and never disguised my sentiments.

"One day," she continues, "Kitty and I were going to take a walk on the Bay, to get something we wanted. Just as we had got our hats on, up ran one of the Billets into the dining-room, where we were.

"'Your servant, ladies.'

"'Your servant, sir.'

"'Going out, ladies?'

"'Only to take a little walk.'

"He immediately turned about, and ran downstairs. I guessed for what.. . . He offered me his hand, or rather arm, to lean upon.

"'Excuse me, sir,' said I; 'I will support myself, if you please.'

"'No, madam, the pavements are very uneven; you may get a fall; do accept my arm.'

"'Pardon me, I cannot."

"'Come, you do not know what your condescension may do. I will turn rebel!'

"'Will you?' said I, laughingly--'Turn rebel first, and then offer your arm.'

"We stopped in another store, where were several British officers. After asking for the articles I wanted, I saw a broad roll of ribbon, which appeared to be of black and white stripes.

"'Go,' said I to the officer who was with us, 'and reckon the stripes of that ribbon; see if they are _thirteen!' (with an emphasis I spoke the word)--and he went, too!

"'Yes, they are thirteen, upon my word, madam.' "'Do hand it me.' He did so; I took it, and found that it was a narrow black ribbon, carefully wound round a broad white. I returned it to its place on the shelf.

"'Madam,' said the merchant, 'you can buy the black and white too, and tack them in stripes.' "'By no means, sir; I would not have them _slightly tacked_, but _firmly united_.' The above-mentioned officers sat on the counter kicking their heels. How they gaped at me when I said this! But the merchant laughed heartily."

Like many others, Mrs. Wilkinson refused to join in the amusements of the city while in possession of the British; but gave her energies to the relief of her friends. The women were the more active when military efforts were suspended. Many and ingenious were the contrivances they adopted, to carry supplies from the British garrison, which might be useful to the gallant defenders of their country. Sometimes cloth for a military coat, fashioned into an appendage to female attire, would be borne away, unsuspected by the vigilant guards whose business it was to prevent smuggling, and afterwards converted into regimental shape. Boots, "a world too wide" for the delicate wearer, were often transferred to the partisan who could not procure them for himself. A horseman's helmet has been concealed under a well-arranged head-dress; and epaulettes delivered from the folds of a matron's simple cap. Other articles in demand for military use, more easily conveyed, were regularly brought away by some stratagem or other. Feathers and cockades thus secured, and presented by the fair ones as a trophy, had an inestimable value in the eyes of those who received them; and useful apparel was worn with the greater satisfaction, that it had not been conveyed without some risk on the donor's part.

It was after the return of Mrs. Wilkinson to Yonge's Island, that news was received of the glorious victory of Washington over Cornwallis. Her last letter which is of any public interest, contains congratulations on this event.

The old family mansion has been removed from the island. But the burial-ground is still held sacred; and the memory of Eliza Wilkinson is cherished in the hearts of her kindred.

XVIII. MARTHA BRATTON.

|The memory of Mrs. Martha Bratton.--In the hands of an infuriated monster, with the instrument of death around her neck, she nobly refused to betray her husband; in the hour of victory she remembered mercy, and as a guardian angel, interposed in behalf of her inhuman enemies. Throughout the Revolution she encouraged the whigs to fight on to the last; to hope on to the end. Honor and gratitude to the woman and heroine, who proved herself so faithful a wife--so firm a friend to liberty!"

The above toast was drunk at a celebration of Huck's defeat, given at Brattonsville, York District, South Carolina, on the twelfth of July, 1839. The ground of the battle that had taken place fifty-nine years before, was within a few hundred yards of Dr. Bratton's residence, inherited from his father, one of the heroes of that day. He celebrated the anniversary of this triumph of the whigs. The cool spring of the battle-field, it is said, furnished the only beverage used on the occasion.

The victory gained at this spot had the most important effect on the destinies of the State. It was the first check given to the British troops--the first time after the fall of Charleston, that the hitherto victorious enemy had been met. It brought confidence to the drooping spirits of the patriots, and taught the invaders that freemen are not conquered while the mind is free. The whigs, inspired with new life and buoyant hopes, began to throng together; the British were again attacked and defeated; a band of resolute and determined spirits took the field, and kept it till victory perched upon their banners, and South Carolina became an independent State.

The year 1780 was a dark period for the patriots of Carolina. Charleston surrendered on the twelfth of May; and General Lincoln and the American army became prisoners of war. This success was followed up by vigorous movements. One expedition secured the important post of Ninety-Six; another scoured the country bordering on the Savannah; and Lord Cornwallis passed the Santee and took Georgetown. Armed garrisons were posted throughout the State, which lay at the mercy of the conqueror, to overawe the inhabitants, and secure a return to their allegiance. For several weeks all military opposition ceased; and it was the boast of Sir Henry Clinton, that here, at least, the American Revolution was ended. A proclamation was issued, denouncing vengeance on all who should dare appear in arms, save under the royal authority, and offering pardon, with a few exceptions, to those who would acknowledge it, and accept British protection. The great body of the people, believing resistance unavailing and hopeless, took the offered protection, while those who refused absolute submission were exiled or imprisoned. But the fact is recorded that the inhabitants of York District never gave their paroles, nor accepted protection as British subjects; preferring resistance and exile to subjection and inglorious peace. *

* This fact is dwelt upon in the oration delivered on the occasion by Colonel Beatty. Dr. Joseph Johnson of Charleston, to whom I am indebted for some of the particulars in Mrs. Bratton's history, thinks it due to the circumstance that a large proportion of the settlers in that part of the State were of Irish origin, and derived their distrust of British faith from traditions of violated rights, contrary to the stipulations of the treaty of Limerick.

A few individuals, who were excepted from the benefits of the proclamation, with others in whose breasts the love of liberty was unconquerable, sought refuge in North Carolina. They were followed by the whigs of York, Chester and some other districts bordering on that State, who fled from the British troops as they marched into the upper country to compel the entire submission of the conquered province. These patriot exiles soon organized themselves in companies, and under their gallant leaders, Sumter, Bratton, Wynn, Moffit and others, began to collect on the frontier, and to harass the victorious enemy by sudden and desultory attacks. At the time when this noble daring was displayed, the State was unable to feed or clothe or arm the soldiers. They depended on their own exertions for every thing necessary to carry on the warfare. They tabernacled in the woods and swamps, with wolves and other beasts of the forests; and frequently wanted for both food and clothing.

To crush this bold and determined spirit, British officers and troops were despatched, in marauding parties, to every nook and corner of South Carolina, authorized to punish every whig with the utmost rigor, and to call upon the loyalists to aid in the work of carnage. A body of these marauders, assembled at Mobley's Meeting-house in Fairfield district, were attacked and defeated in June by a party of whigs under the command of Colonel Bratton, Major Wynn, and Captain M'Clure. The report of this disaster being conveyed to Rocky Mount in Chester District, Colonel Turnbull, the commander of a strong detachment of British troops at that point, determined on summary vengeance, and for that purpose sent Captain Huck, at the head of four hundred cavalry, and a considerable body of tories, all well mounted, with the following order:

"To Captain Huyck--

"You are hereby ordered, with the cavalry under your command, to proceed to the frontier of the province, collecting all the royal militia with you on your march, and with said force to push the rebels as far as you may deem convenient." *

* The order was found in Huck's pocket after death, and is still preserved by one of his conquerors. His name is spelt as above in the manuscript.

It was at this time that the heroism of the wife of Colonel Bratton was so nobly displayed. The evening preceding the battle, Huck arrived at Colonel Bratton's house. He entered rudely, and demanded where her husband was.

"He is in Sumter's army," was the undaunted reply.

The officer then essayed persuasion, and proposed to Mrs. Bratton to induce her husband to come in and join the royalists, promising that he should have a commission in the royal service. It may well be believed that arguments were used, which must have had a show of reason at the time, when the people generally had given up all hopes and notions of independence. But Mrs. Bratton answered with heroic firmness, that she would rather see him remain true to his duty to his country, even if he perished in Sumter's army.

The son of Mrs. Bratton, Dr. John S. Bratton, who was then a child, remembers that Huck was caressing him on his knee while speaking to his mother. On receiving her answer, he pushed the boy off so suddenly, that his face was bruised by the fall. At the same time, one of Huck's soldiers, infuriated at her boldness, and animated by the spirit of deadly animosity towards the whigs which then raged in its greatest violence, seized a reaping-hook that hung near them in the piazza, and brought it to her throat, with intention to kill her. Still she refused to give information that might endanger her husband's safety. There is no mention made of any interference on the part of Captain Huck to save her from the hands of his murderous ruffian. But the officer second in command interposed, and compelled the soldier to release her. They took prisoners three old men, whom, with another they had captured during the day, they confined in a corncrib.

Huck then ordered Mrs. Bratton to have supper prepared for him and his troopers. It may be conceived with what feelings she saw her house occupied by the enemies of her husband and her country, and found herself compelled to minister to their wants. What wild and gloomy thoughts had possession of her soul, is evident from the desperate idea that occurred to her of playing a Roman's part, and mingling poison, which she had in the house, with the food they were to eat; thus delivering her neighbors from the impending danger. But her noble nature shrank from such an expedient, even to punish the invaders of her home. She well knew, too, the brave spirit that animated her husband and his comrades. They might even now be dogging the footsteps of the enemy; they might be watching the opportunity for an attack. They might come to the house also. She would not have them owe to a cowardly stratagem the victory they should win in the field of battle. Having prepared the repast, she retired with her children to an upper apartment.

After they had supped, Huck and his officers went to another house about half a mile off, owned by James Williamson, to pass the night. His troops lay encamped around it. A fenced road passed the door, and sentinels were posted along the road. The soldiers slept in fancied security, and the guard kept negligent watch; they dreamed not of the scene that awaited them; they knew not that defeat and death were impending. Colonel Bratton, with a party chiefly composed of his neighbors, had that day left Mecklenburg County, North Carolina, under the conviction that the royalists would shortly send forces into the neighborhood of their homes, to revenge the defeat of the tories at Mobley's Meeting-house. With a force of only seventy-five men--for about fifty had dropped off on the way--Colonel Bratton and Captain M'Clure, having received intelligence of the position and numbers of the enemy, marched to within a short distance of their encampment. The whigs arrived at night, and after concealing their horses in a swamp, Bratton himself reconnoitered the encampment, advancing within the line of sentinels. The party of Americans divided to enclose the enemy; one-half coming up the lane, the other being sent round to take the opposite direction. Huck and his officers were still sleeping when the attack commenced, and were aroused by the roar of the American guns. Huck made all speed to mount his horse, and several times rallied his men; but his efforts were unavailing: the spirit and determined bravery of the patriots carried all before them. The rout was complete. As soon as Huck and another officer fell, his men threw down their arms and fled. *

* It is said that Huck was shot by John Carrol, who, as well as his brother Thomas, was a brave and daring soldier, his valor being always of the most impetuous kind. A brief, but characteristic description of him has been given by another Revolutionary hero: "He was a whig from the first--he was a whig to the last; he didn't believe in the tories, and he made the tories believe in him."

Some were killed, or mortally wounded; some perished in the woods; the rest escaped, or were made prisoners. In the pursuit the conflict raged around Bratton's house; and Mrs. Bratton and her children, anxious to look out, were in some danger from the shots. She made her little son, much against his will, sit within the chimney. While he was there, a ball struck against the opposite jam, and was taken up by him as a trophy. The battle lasted about an hour; it was bloody, though brief; and it is stated that the waters of the spring, which now gush forth so bright and transparent, on that memorable spot, were then crimsoned with the tide of human life. About daylight, when the firing had ceased, Mrs. Bratton ventured out, anxious, and fearful of finding her nearest and dearest relatives among the dead and wounded lying around her dwelling. But none of her loved ones had fallen. Her house was opened alike to the wounded on both sides; and she humanely attended the sufferers in person, affording them, indiscriminately, every relief and comfort in her power to bestow; feeding and nursing them, and supplying their wants with the kindest and most assiduous attention. Thus her lofty spirit was displayed no less by her humanity to the vanquished, than by her courage and resolution in the hour of danger. After the death of Huck in battle, the officer next in command became the leader of the troops. He was among the prisoners who surrendered to the whigs, and they were determined to put him to death. He entreated as a last favor, to be conducted to the presence of Mrs. Bratton. She instantly recognized him as the officer who had interfered in her behalf and saved her life. Gratitude, as well as the mercy natural to woman's heart, prompted her now to intercede for him. She pleaded with an eloquence which, considering the share she had borne in the common distress and danger, could not be withstood. Her petition was granted; she procured his deliverance from the death that awaited him, and kindly entertained him till he was exchanged. There is hardly a situation in romance or dramatic fiction, which can surpass the interest and pathos of this simple incident.