morning demonstrated the wisdom and sagacity of the advice given by the gray-headed counselor, Captain Butler. They proved to have been a detached party connected with a larger band, for about sunrise this band, amounting to some three hundred men, guided by some of the escaped, discomfited party, under the lead, too, of one of the bravest and most skillful partisans of the Royal side, yet sanguinary, vindictive, relentless, and unforgiving, to-wit: Bloody Bill Cunningham, was seen approaching, who at once attacked the camp. Taken almost by surprise, and by this time to a certain degree disorganized, the little squad of imprudent Whigs, about thirty in number, nevertheless rallied for a moment and took refuge in an unfinished log house without doors or windows. In the meantime the house was surrounded by Cunningham's men when firing commenced. After a few moments of rapid discharges, a demand of surrender peremptorily was made. Its terms were inquired of by the Whigs, and the response was of the Tory leader, "they were unconditional," but that he would receive a communication from them. Upon this Smallwood Smith, one of the party, was selected to perform the duty. Upon presenting himself, Cunningham's first inquiry was, "Who are of your party?" Upon learning that young James Butler, the son of Captain Butler, who had been engaged in an affair in which one Radcliff, a noted Tory, was killed, was among them, he determined at once to give no terms that would exempt this young man from his vengeance. Cunningham was well acqainted with the father, having served with him in the expedition against the Indians, to which allusion has already been made. It is said that Cunningham had rather a strong liking and partiality for him, and would have entertained terms of friendly capitulation with the party had it not been for the presence of the son. Captain James Butler sent Cunningham a message that if he would spare the life of his son, he would make an unconditional surrender of himself. Young Butler, however, learning Cunningham's animosity to himself, and entertaining the impression that his father and himself would be sacrificed in the event of any surrender, determined to run all hazards of a contest of arms, and fearlessly informed his father that he would settle the terms of capitulation. So on the first opportunity that presented itself, he commenced the com bat anew by killing a Tory by the name of Stewart. It is said that negotiations had been entered into to save the officers and sacrifice the privates; but be this as it may, this demonstration of courage concluded the parley, and young Butler (but nineteen years of age,) received a mortal wound in the fierce conflict that followed, while kneeling to pick his flint for a discharge. The gallant but expiring boy called his father, who had come upon the expedition at his request, unarmed, simply as a counselor, to his side, handed him his rifle and told him there were yet a few bullets in his pouch and to revenge his death. The father took the gun and discharged it against the enemy until the ammunition was expended. The death of young Butler produced a panic in the little party, contending against such hopeless odds, and the result was unconditional surrender. After a formal meeting and consultation of the officers of the Tory squad, under the guidance of the bloodthirtsy and execrable chieftain Cunningham, the terrific order was issued to put them all to the unsparing sword of retaliation and revenge. Two of the number managed to escape; the balance were shot down and slaughtered where they stood. Captain James Butler caught up a pitchfork that was lying around and defended himself until his right hand was severed by a sabre stroke, and his life ended by a rifle ball. The tragedy did not cease here. A detachment of the Tories under the command of Prescott, a subordinate leader, was left to meet any burying party that might be sent to inter the bodies of the mangled victims, and especially to meet the subject of our memoir, then a Captain of Rangers, who it was expected would hasten to the spot. But William Butler was too far from the sad locality to be present even at the funeral ceremonies. In those days, when population was sparse and when the passions of men, like as today, embittered by fierce political strife, swelled to uncontrollable heights, smothering every kindly feeling and engendering hate and animosity of the most malignant nature, it seemed utterly impossible for them to act upon the principles of mercy, love and charity. Under the circumstances and excitement of the times, it would have been madness and sheer folly for the Whigs, unless strongly supported, to have undertaken the burial of their dead without an agreement. In this crisis, when headstrong passion got the reins of reason, like a ship dashed by fierce encountering tides becomes the sport of wind and wave, and there seemed no prospect or way of coming to any terms; for the Tories were relentless and determined, and the Whigs powerless to act, there appeared on the arena of strife a new actor; one who has played a prominent part in the history of the world; in the plucking of an apple in the Garden of Eden; the mothership of the Saviour, and the appropriation of gorgeous jewelry when kings refused to act; thereby aiding to develop and lay open to view by degrees along the shores of the unremitting stream of the centuries, that have glided into the present in the universe of God, for the benefit of man-a new continent and a new world that stands today at the head of nations. This actor was woman. Aye! it was woman who stepped between the combatants and advanced with more than Spartan courage and devotion to perform the rites of interment. It was woman with her wisdom who carried and decided the difficulty. Souls know no difference of sexes; though man may be said to be the lord, it does not follow he has the monopoly of brain or courage or patriotism. Many a masculine heart and more than masculine has been found in a female breast; nor is the treasure of wisdom, or any of the nobler characteristics, the less valuable for being lodged in the weaker vessel. Truthfully has the poet said ""Tis woman's hand that smooths affliction's bed, Sages may teach, poets may sing, and philosophers reason, but nature made woman to temper man. Without her man would have been a brute-a savage-influenced by passions and appetites, living serpents that would have wound like the gorgons round him; strangling those virtues which constitute his happiness and cheers him on to a happier shore. In the darkest hour of man's earthly ills, her affection and her courage rises and glows "Throbs with each pulse, and beats with every thrill." Mrs. Sarah Smith, a sister of Captain James Butler, the father, (whose wife at this time was confined to her bed) with a number of other ladies, wives, mothers and sisters of the dead, hastened to the bloody scene to engage in their burial; Captain Butler's body was recognized by his severed hand. The mangled and unmercifully beaten bodies of the rest were so disfigured that it was impossible to recognize them. However, young Butler was supposed to be identified by his female relatives present. To the honor of the women present be it said, that with spade and hoe in hand they set to work, dug the trench and consiged to their resting-place the bodies of the murdered Whigs, save Captain Butler and his son, who were placed in a separate grave, prepared by his sister and relatives, which was marked at the time, and over which, in after years, was reared an humble monument, the tribute of filial piety. "And though the mound that mark'd their names, Beneath the wings of time, Has worn away! Their's is the fame Immortal and sublime, For who can tread on Freedom's plain Nor wake her dead to life again." It was about the time of this sad event that General Lincoln issued a proclamation from his camp at Black's Swamp, near Augusta, that William Butler, the subject of this memoir, repaired to his standard as lieutenant of militia. The American. leader's purpose was with the view, Ramsay says, of limiting the British to the sea coast of Georgia, as well as of its reclamation. Leaving a corps of observation at Purysburg, under Moultrie, he marched with the main army up the Savannah river, that he might impart confidence to the country, and crossed high up; but he had scarcely done so, when his sagacious adversary, Prevost, availing himself of the critical time, and finding his way open to Charleston, made a brilliant dash for the capture of that city, and had nearly succeeded. When Prevost crossed the Savannah. river, Charleston was almost wholly defenceless. Such a move as an invasion on the land side was unexpected. Lincoln, nevertheless Prevost's move, pursued his original intention, from an idea that Prevost meant nothing more than to divert him from his intended. operations in Georgia, by a feint of attempting the capital of South Carolina. In the meantime Moultrie threw himself in his path, met him at Willisling and Coosawhatchee, and by a defensive, masterly retreat, delayed his advance until field works sufficient to withstand an assault could be thrown up for defence of the city. During these events Lincoln hastily marched back from the interior of Georgia, recrossed the Savannah river, and pushed on after Prevost with hasty strides, while Governor Rutledge, with 600 militia from Orangeburg, and Colonel Harris, with 300 Continental troops from the vicinity of Augusta, were striving to get ahead of Prevost and reinforce Moultrie. Having a knowledge of these things, Prevost advanced to Watson's, about a mile from the lines. As the garrison were unprepared for a siege, they stood to their arms all night. Presuming that Lincoln was close behind Prevost, to gain time for his coming up, they sent a message to Prevost, requesting to know on what terms a capitulation would be granted; this was a ruse. Whatever was the presumption of the Whigs, as to what effect this trick might have, on the next morning Prevost and his army were gone, retreating by way of the islands, to Savannah. The militia of the up-country were then discharged; but William Butler, who was connected with the detachment engaged in the action at Stono, remained and attached himself to Pulaski's legion, in which he served the remainder of the campaign of 1779. He was with the gallant Pole until his death at the siege of Savannah, and always spoke of him as a bold, dashing dragoon officer, and complimented his memory by naming one of his grandsons after him. During the captivity of his father in Charleston, already narrated, all the responsibilities of family obligations devolved on William Butler. It was at this time, too, the time immediately succeeding the fall of Charleston, when sprang into existence that brilliant roll of partisan leaders-Marion, Sumter, Butler, Gandy, the Postells, Benson, Greene, Conyers, McCauley, McCottry, Ryan, Watson, and others of South Carolina, whose achievements threw such a halo of glory and gorgeous chivalry over the war in the South, that— "The tilt, the tournament, the vaulted hall, And fancy's bright and gay creation-all Sinks into dust, when reason's searching glance It was about this time that Washington appointed, at the request of Congress, General Greene to take command of the 3-B. C. |