However, a woman wearing a ragged cotton shift came to his aid and addressed Lieutenant Sutherland: ‘Good day, Massa Cunnel. You want him, darra driber? Him driber sleep ober dere, under darra tree.’
‘Then go wake the Driver, my good woman,’ said the Lieutenant, not ill-pleased to be addressed as Colonel—‘Tell him that the Chief Engineer to the British Forces wishes to speak to his master.’
‘Hilloo now, darra’s a mighty hard word, Massa Cunnel, my honey, darra ole Chief Ingy-what-you-say! I tell him “British Cunnel him come: wake up, or massa vexed.”’
So off she bounded and soon a young mulatto overseer, or driver, came walking his horse slowly across the rice-field. He appeared annoyed at having his noon-time sleep interrupted, but durst not show it for fear of punishment.
‘Take me to your master,’ Major Moncrieff ordered.
The Driver objected: ‘Massa mebbe sleep. Him good massa but mighty angry man, him bery fierce be waked up.’
‘I’ll take the consequences,’ said the Major. ‘I understand that the gentlemen in these parts are most civil to strangers.’
When the Driver saw that we were determined on our visit he changed his tone: ‘No, me lie to you. Massa not sleep, him right glad to welcome you, nobody neber so glad, nothing can be like.’ He spoke to the slaves, threatening them with dire punishments if they idled in his absence, and then showed us where to tie up the boat and disembark. He led the way to the planter’s house, which stood behind a grove of palmetto-trees, with a large barn beside it and two or three stacks of rice-straw. Before we reached it, we passed a row of tumbledown huts, about thirty of them, thatched with palmetto leaves, from which a fetid animal smell issued. Two old naked hags of negresses, with white wool on their heads, and shrivelled bosoms, peered out as we passed. They uttered cries of astonishment and admiration at our weapons and clothes.
‘Dem’s de meat-houses,’ said the Driver, pointing. ‘Massa’s a consid’able warm man. Own one hun’ed good working niggers. All de urras but ole grand-mammy and ole grand-daddy, dey work in de rice swamp.’
He rode ahead to warn his master of our approach. This gentleman was named Captain Gale—every person throughout the South held a military rank of some sort, even though he had never spent but a single day with the provincial militia—and was the complete Master Planter. He appeared to us in undress—cambric shirt, canvas breeches, and a night-cap, his feet stockingless, a riding-whip in his left hand (for the correction of his slaves) which was always at the waggle. He came forward with the right hand outstretched to welcome the officers. He was neither drunk nor sober, but in a state of confused exhilaration. ‘Egad, gentlemen, I am right down glad to welcome you! Upon my soul, it does my eyes good to feast them upon British regimentals again. This is a prelude, damme, to a fine show. You Britons will soon settle the hash of the damned rebels across to Charleston. Why, since they nested there I have been quite cut off from society, but for the Bennets and Mottes and M’Cordes, my neighbours. Huzza, now! What do you say to twigging a tickler of old peach to His Majesty King George’s health? Heigh, Cudjo, Cudjo, CUDJO, you plaguey black dog, must I ever split my throat bawling to you? Bring us the old peach and three peachers instantly!’
A startled voice came from a room behind: ‘Hi, Massa! Sure Cudjo always answer when he hear Massa halloa!’
Cudjo, another young mulatto, then came running up with the guilty air of one who has been caught napping. He brought with him a bottle of peach-brandy and three glasses on a tray. Captain Gale playfully cracked his whip at the fellow and called him a cursed, lazy Jack.
His Majesty’s health was then duly drunk on the verandah, while I posted sentinels about the grounds; having done so, I reported to Major Moncrieff for orders. He was good enough to suggest to his host that I would be the better off for a tickler too, remarking that I was a non-commissioned officer who had already seen considerable service in the war and been rewarded with a bounty by Sir Henry Clinton for bringing a party of escaped prisoners safely through General Washington’s lines.
Captain Gale was at once all affability towards me and sent Cudjo flying for another glass. ‘Well, my fine hero,’ he cried, ‘so you outwitted that old Virginian Fabius, did you, like a Hannibal and breached his fence? That’s right, that’s right! And now you’d be revenged on those damned Yankee pedlars for what they did to you? O the rogues! That’s right! There’s a great sight of ’em within Charleston. Show them no quarter, but give it to them handsomely! Break their backs like dogs! Cut them over the face and eyes like cats! Bang them like asses! Huzza! Britons, lay on! Were it not for my cursed loins which trouble me, I’d be with you too, I swear, staving at full butt against the sons of bitches.’
I respectfully drank the King’s health in the ‘old peach’, which was very good liquor but with a powerful effect upon an empty belly.
Major Moncrieff spoke a few words in praise of the plantation, which Captain Gale heard with complacence; and Lieutenant Sutherland remarked that a planter’s life must be pleasant enough.
‘God’s mercy, I have nothing to rail against, but only this damned war. It has swept the country clear of yellow boys and shining silver Carols and landed us with bushel-loads of Continental prock which crackle insult and treachery at a man the instant he takes them into his fist. Thank God, that you gentlemen have come to our rescue at last, for things were getting mighty difficult for honest men.’
He boasted about his ‘black cattle’, by which it seems he intended the negroes. He had six house-boys and wenches, all of them mulattoes, as best for domestic work. ‘I breed ’em myself,’ he said jovially, ‘for, egad, then I have nobody to blame but myself for their weak points. Cudjo’s mother, she was a strapping fine Gold Coast lass, a virgin, and I got her for nothing: that is, I won her from an old dried-up Frenchman of Tradd Street in Charleston, after an all-night sitting of cards. A pretty long heat that was before I wore the old Frog down, point by point, and at last the prize was mine. Cudjo favours me a little, I think—see the big nose on him and my lumpish thighs—and I had another son by the same wench, who’s my groom, and a pretty smart creature too, though I do boast of him. The Driver I had by another Coaster whom I used as cook wench: she was the devil and all, for she grew jealous of Cudjo’s mother and poisoned her—well, I forgave her that, ha-ha, jealousy is no bad fault in a woman—but then, damme, she got lined by a big black buck who came over with a musical pasty from Bennet’s. So I lost patience with the jolter-headed bitch and returned her to the hoeing team. What do you think of that now, Major?’
Major Moncrieff replied, for he was accustomed to this sort of gentry, that it was an ill trick the wench played him.
‘Ah, but that’s not the half of it,’ Captain Gale proceeded. ‘She cast her brat at three months, as if to spite me, and fearing she would play me some such wry trick again, I traded her for a Virginia mare in foal to old Bennet. However, she proved a good breeder after all, and my mare lost her foal, so old Bennet had the laugh on me. Oh, to be sure, they’re difficult cattle, these female blackamoors.’
‘They must indeed keep you busy, night and day,’ said the Lieutenant very drily.
‘We dine at two o’clock, gentlemen,’ Captain Gale continued, ‘and I insist you’ll honour us with your company, and there’s good feeding for your men too—a trencher of fat pork with sweet potatoes and hearth-cakes, if that’s to their taste. How say you, Sergeant?’
I replied: ‘That would be very welcome, your Honour, I’m sure.’
‘As for ourselves, gentlemen,’ he proceeded, ‘I know what our fare will be.’ Here he leered archly and poked both the officers in the belly with his forefinger. ‘A green goose with currant jelly and a bottle of old Madeira to wash it down, do you see? Something nice for you, do you see, Major Moncrieff, my noble son of thunder!’
I remained listening with attention to the extraordinary talk of this planter, and soon was privileged to see his white wife and daughter appear to greet th
e British officers. Both wore very handsome French dresses in a new fashion, and enormous poke-bonnets of blue gauze of the sort that all the better class of women affected thereabouts; they were made with a caul fitting close on the back part of the head. The front, stiffened with small pieces of cane, projected two feet or more forward above the face and was adorned with cherry-coloured ribbands.
Major Moncrieff paid the lady, and Lieutenant Sutherland paid the daughter, a few compliments in the New York style, which they swallowed as avidly as sugar-candy, simpering and casting such looks at the officers as were perfectly surprising to me. I noted that Miss Arabella, who had been born in this mansion, had contracted a negroish kind of accent and dialect. For it was the custom in the Carolinas to deliver a white child, as soon as it was born, to a negro foster-mother, so that it never tasted a drop of its mother’s milk; and by constant association with negro servants a planter’s daughter would carry their accent and vitiated manners with her through life.
The company now disappeared into the house and I took my leave, in order to look after the men. As I went, I thought to myself: ‘These are people whom I shall never understand.’ Nor was my perplexity eased when, upon discreet enquiry from one of the Motte family, a week later, I found that Captain Gale, though reputedly a ‘jack of both sides’, that is to say a trimmer between the loyal and revolutionary causes, was a man very well spoken of in St. John’s Island. He was a considerate master to his slaves—as one might say that a drover was considerate of his cattle in not over-driving them or over-whacking them or stinting them in drink or forage; and they repaid him with a dog-like loyalty, which was very touching when I caught a glint of it in Cudjo’s eyes. To his wife he was affectionate, never ‘taking the timber to her’ even when egregiously drunk; his breeding of mulatto bastards she accepted very calmly as a part of the rustic economy, and did not think it a nasty act. To his daughter he was an indulgent father, and winked at her amours while they did not bring him into disgrace. He had a son whom he had sent to an English college.
The Captain’s manner of life, like that of most of his fellow-planters, seems to have been as follows. He would rise about eight o’clock, drink off a morning sling of strong apply-brandy and water, sweetened with sugar, and then mount his blood-horse and ride round his plantation to view his stock of human and beef cattle, returning about ten to breakfast on ham, fried maize cakes, toast and cider. He then sauntered about the house, playing on a flute or throwing dice, left hand against right. About noon he drank his midday draught of old peach and water to give him an appetite for dinner and pleasantly teased his servants and the little dark children sprawling about on the verandah. At two he dined and thereafter slept for three hours. Lastly, after sipping a little tea with Mrs. Gale and Miss Arabella, he began his serious work of the day, that of tippling himself into stupefaction with apple-brandy; which achieved, his mulatto house-boys would convey him to bed for the night. This routine he interrupted about once a week, to attend a horse-race, a cock-fight or an auction of slaves or cattle; and on court-days to visit the neighbouring Court House in his capacity as magistrate. On the first of every month he took his wife and daughter into Charleston for a taste of society, where they stayed three days, and from whence he returned in a state of insensibility laid out on the bottom of his carriage.
Major André, as Adjutant-General, came to visit us on February 20th, where we bivouacked at Stono Ferry. He remarked to our commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Balfour, in my hearing: ‘We must be very careful not to flush General Lincoln’s army from cover by any hasty show of force until we can cut off his retreat. The Commander-in-Chief is very positive on this point. He is glad now of our delay in reaching this place, since it has given General Lincoln courage to muster all his militia and set them to work at improving his fortifications. I wish to Heaven we could be sure that he will not make a bolt for it.’ Colonel Balfour expressed as his opinion that: ‘General Lincoln would be most unwise if he did not retreat, when informed that more than seven thousand trained troops are come against his five thousand half-trained, and under officers skilled in siege warfare. Five thousand are hardly sufficient, I believe, to man such extensive works. Yet he may perhaps be tempted to stand a siege, if what our people did at Savannah last summer, against much greater odds, touches and challenges his pride as an American.’
‘Pray Heaven that he has such a pride,’ said Major André.
‘Well,’ said Colonel Balfour, ‘Sir Henry’s pride is touched too. For he failed against Charleston four years ago, though that was owing to no fault of his own.’
Colonel Balfour then excusing himself and going away, I had the hardihood to address Major André and ask permission to inform him of something. He was sitting, hand at hip, on a handsome grey charger which was cropping the grass under a flowering Judas—a strange crooked tree whose red flowers burst directly from the bark and suggested the blood which poured from the traitor Judas at his hanging. He appeared deep in anxious thought. He started at the sound of my voice, but was good enough to recognize me; and encouraged me to say whatever was on my mind. I then begged pardon for interfering in matters which did not concern me, but continued: ‘Your Honour may rest assured that General Clinton will hold his ground. For I heard positively from my guards at Rutland that he had been very hot against Generals Schuyler and St. Clair for their abandonment of Ticonderoga Fortress when we invested it—he swore that any American who would not defend to the last shot a city entrusted to his defence deserved to be hanged without mercy. General Arnold disputing the point with him, and applauding General St. Clair’s decision, I am told they nearly came to blows. I overlooked to mention this item to you when you were condescending enough to call me into your parlour last September.’
He struck his brow with his knuckles. ‘Why now, Sergeant Lamb, call me a fool not to have thought of that before! Ay, it’s true enough, I heard of it too at the time. I am indeed infinitely obliged to you, my friend, for recalling the matter to my recollection. Now I can set Sir Henry Clinton’s mind at rest. Oh, we’ll bag that bold fox, I warrant.’
St. David’s Day led in March with the usual regimental jollity: in which we Fusiliers invited all our neighbours to join. Major André sang in our officers’ mess a comical parody he had written, Yankee Doodle’s Expedition to Rhode Island, of which I can recollect only the verse:
In dread array their tattered crew
Advanced with colours spread, Sir;
Their fifes played Yankee-doodle-doo,
King Hancock at their head, Sir.
He was loudly applauded. On being called upon for a speech he made a remarkable statement: ‘My Lords and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘this has been a long war, but it will be won this year. Do not, I pray, press me for an explanation when I tell you that an American sheep-dog will soon come secretly into our fold, bringing the whole flock with him.’ This obscure promise was bandied from mouth to mouth, and by some held to mean that General Washington was privately treating with General Clinton for terms. Others thought that General Charles Lee was going to ‘play General Monk’, and head a loyal counter-revolution. But Major André spoke with such conviction that all believed him as to the approaching end of hostilities.
Then came Easter, a prime festival season in Virginia and the Carolinas; and notwithstanding the war the inhabitants of the country about Charleston abated little of their customary ceremonies of drinking, wrestling, quarter-racing and egg-rolling. This last practice being something of a novelty I shall take the liberty of describing it. They boiled hens’ eggs in log-wood, which dyed the shell a fine crimson. This colour would not rub off, yet one might with a pin scratch on the shells any figure or amatory device that struck the fancy. The favourite devices were true lovers’ knots, Cupids, flowers, and pierced hearts; and the adorned egg, marked with the name of the Valentine (for Easter here had much of the fourteenth of February about it) was a sentimental gift between young people in love. The little children, being also
provided by their parents with these gaudy eggs, rolled them towards one another down into a grassy hollow, so that they struck together at the bottom; and the egg whose shell was dinted became the property of him whose egg remained whole. The ultimate winner of these childish lists was named ‘King Easter’. However, this Easter jollity was turned to disgust by news that Congress had repudiated their paper-money. It was recalled that in the previous September Congress had proclaimed: ‘A bankrupt faithless republic would be a novelty in the political world, and would appear among respectable nations like a common prostitute among chaste matrons.’ Now the rouge-pot was unblushingly applied by this chaste matron to her own cheeks. There had been gross abuse of the exchange all over the Continent: instead of creditor pursuing debtor, the position was reversed. The debtor came running with a sack-load of paper, purchased for a very little hard money, to pay off a loan or a mortgage; and the creditor could not refuse it. Many orphans and minors were similarly cheated by their guardians and trustees.
Wappo Cut was bridged and a large division of our army, crossing over it from St. James Island, marched twelve miles up Ashley River. They were then ferried over to the root of that tongue of land, the tip of which was the city of Charleston. By then it was already the end of March, for Sir Henry was proceeding with great caution and careful method, making sure of his communications and supplies, seizing and fortifying all places of military importance, and building bridges over rivers and causeways over swamps. General Lincoln meanwhile had not only held his ground but even sent north for reinforcements. News of this caused general satisfaction in our ranks. We never for a moment had any doubt as to the happy issue of a general engagement, or an attempt at storm.
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