Among the very few prisoners that we made in our last action, was a mulatto fellow, who was suspected to be one of those who had murdered the general's nephew. Whether the suspicion was well or ill founded, I cannot say: but, certain it is, that the indignation excited against him, on that account, soon proved his destruction. For, as we were crossing the swamps of Black river that night, an officer rode up to him, while marching in the line of prisoners under guard, and with a pistol, shot him dead on the spot. The captain of the guard was instantly sent for, and severely reprimanded by the general, for not having killed the author of that savage deed.
It was said the officer had offered a bottle of rum to have the mulatto shot, but, finding none that would do it, he did it himself. I do not give this as a fact, but, I know it was the talk in camp, though carefully kept from the general, as everybody knew it would have given him great pain.
He often said, "he truly lamented the untimely death of his nephew;and that he had been told, that this poor man was his murderer.
But that, as a prisoner, his life ought to have been held most sacred;especially as the charge against him was without evidence, and, perhaps, no better than conjecture. As to my nephew," continued he, "I believe he was cruelly murdered: but living virtuously, as he did, and then dying fighting for the rights of man, he is, no doubt, happy: and this is my comfort."
The next day Marion ordered the troops under arms, and formed them into a large circle, all fronting the centre. While we were wondering what could be the meaning of this strange manoeuvre, a sergeant was seen leading into the circle an elegant horse, under saddle and bridle, with portmanteau, sword, pistols, and musket. This was the horse, furniture, and arms of captain Lewis, whom the lad Gwinn, so fortunately for me, had killed in the action three days before.
Marion then called Gwinn from the ranks.
The boy approached him with his hat off.
The general, placing his hand upon his head, in the presence of the whole squadron, pronounced him "a brave little man; and there,"pointing to the horse and furniture, "there is the reward of your gallantry.""Gwinn, sir," said I, "is not a good soldier, he fired without orders.""That's very true," replied he, "but I am sure, colonel, you are the last that ought to blame me, on that account;for if I had not fired and killed captain Lewis, exactly as I did, he would have killed you; and besides, his saying he was the friend of GEORGE THE THIRD, was enough for ME; I did not think I could fire too quick on such a man as that."But when the sergeant, at the order of Marion, led up to him the horse, richly furnitured, as aforesaid, the confusion and grimace of the lad were truly diverting. He blushed, he chuckled, he looked around and around upon his comrades, as if at a loss how to contain himself, or what to do.
At length he made shift to reach out his hand to the bridle, though deeply blushing, and said, "Dear me now! well la! what will mammy think, and the children, when they come to see me, riding up here on this famous horse, and all these fine things!
I know well enough how mammy will have a hearty cry, that's what she will;for she will think I STOLED him. But if any of the folks up our way should go to jaw about me, at that rate, I trust as how, general, you will take my part, and set 'em straight."Marion smiled, and commended him for a good boy, and told him to give his compliments to his mother, and also his thanks to her, for being such a true mother to her children, in bringing them up so honestly.
But the general was told the next day, that Gwinn had said, "he always hated the tories, because they would not fight for their country;and, since the general had paid him so well for killing one of them, he was determined to try if he could not kill more."And he did kill more too, I'll warrant him, for he was with us to the end of the war, in many a hard brush. And then he was such a dead shot with a rifle! Standing, running, or flying, it was all one to Gwinn.
He would make nothing, at a hundred yards, to stop you a buck, at full tilt through the woods, as hard as he could crack it; and at every clip, to bring down the squirrels from the tops of the tallest trees of the forest.
