The Swamp Fox

by John Oller

  Whether the object was shot from a bow, fired from a musket, or flung by hand, it did the trick. After it landed, the roof was quickly aflame. McPherson sent some men to the roof to put out the fire, but they were driven off by canister shot from the Americans’ six-pounder.

  That same day, on May 12, the British garrison surrendered. The Americans doused the fire and saved the mansion, took possession of the enemy’s guns and salt, then leveled the rest of the fortifications.

  That night Mrs. Motte invited both the American and British officers to what Lee called a “sumptuous dinner” at her cabin. Lee recalled that the gracious hostess, though a confirmed patriot, treated everyone with such amiability that it was hard to tell the captors from the captured. As Peter Horry recalled, the wine was brought out, “we were all very gay,” and “Britons and Americans mingled together in smiles and cheerful chat, like brothers.”

  At the formal surrender ceremony the redcoats laid down their arms to Lee’s green-coated Continentals, while the loyalists surrendered to Marion’s militia. Possibly this division reflected some friction within the American side. More likely it was a face-saving measure for McPherson. As the highest commanding officer of the victorious force, Marion was entitled by custom to receive McPherson’s sword. But a British army officer would have considered it especially inglorious to surrender to a militia soldier. McPherson undoubtedly preferred surrendering to Lee, a “gentleman” who, in a further act of chivalry, returned some private British correspondence the Americans found in Mrs. Motte’s home.

  Little did McPherson know that Lee thought he deserved to be executed for needlessly prolonging the siege. Indeed, although Lee may have seemed more of a gentleman than Marion, he was far less punctilious about restraining the commission of atrocities. Three months earlier, while performing reconnaissance for Greene in North Carolina, Lee’s Legion had surrounded and massacred a group of British soldiers just as mercilessly as Tarleton had cut down the Americans at the Waxhaws. And after the surrender of Fort Motte, Lee incurred Marion’s wrath when the Legion troops began hanging some of the more notorious captured Tories. Three were executed—including Hugh Miscally, the man who had led Doyle to Snow’s Island—before Marion, upon learning of the goings on, intervened to stop a fourth hanging, this one of the Tory militia commander. When the executioners told Marion it was Lee who had approved the death sentences, Marion thundered, “I will let you know that I command here, and not Colonel Lee.” Lee later wrote that the man whose neck was saved thoroughly deserved the noose and that many of the American militia loudly demanded his punishment, but “the humanity of Marion could not be overcome.”

  Apart from the three hangings, the siege of Fort Motte was remarkably casualty-free. No British or Tories died, and the Americans lost only two men. One of them, though, was the storied sergeant (since made a lieutenant) Allen McDonald. He was the Zelig-like figure who was one of the three rescued prisoners from Marion’s first partisan engagement to join Marion’s brigade, went on to bayonet Ganey outside Georgetown, then climbed the tree to shoot Lieutenant Torriano through the knee at Witherspoon’s Plantation. History does not record how he died at Fort Motte, but recent archaeological evidence consisting of clustered rifle balls suggests that Marion relied heavily on two particularly skilled sharpshooters at Fort Motte. Given McDonald’s prowess, he may have been one of them.

  As at Fort Watson, the cost to the British was again more strategic than human. Rawdon, who had hoped to get his hands on the provisions at Fort Motte, was chagrined to learn of its fall when he crossed Nelson’s Ferry on May 14. “The stroke was heavy upon me,” he told Cornwallis. Realizing that Nelson’s Ferry, too, could no longer be held, Rawdon destroyed the fortifications there, headed south, and eventually pitched camp at Monck’s Corner, thirty miles above Charleston.

  After the surrender of Fort Motte, Greene went there to assess the situation and clear the air with Marion. It was the first time they met. Greene, a large, slightly rotund man, stood a full head taller than Marion. Like Marion, Greene had one bad leg, so the two of them would have limped to greet each other. Greene spoke with a Rhode Island accent, Marion with a southern twang, perhaps with a trace of French influence. What they said to each other is not recorded, but they must have smoothed things over because from that meeting forward Marion issued no more resignation threats.

  It helped that Fort Motte had ended in success. Even George Washington was impressed, writing Greene from New York to say that the reduction of the fort “does honor to General Marian [sic] and Colonel Lee.” Other good news was flowing in at the same time. On May 11 the garrison at Orangeburg had fallen to Sumter. Three days after Greene met Marion, Fort Granby surrendered as well. Sumter had started the siege there on May 2, but when he took his main force to Orangeburg, leaving a small detachment to continue the siege, Greene ordered Lee to Granby to finish the job. On May 15 Lee accepted the British commander’s surrender terms, which stipulated that the British soldiers could keep their baggage, horses, and recently taken plunder. When Sumter returned, he was enraged beyond measure. Not only had he wanted the glory of taking Fort Granby himself, but he had planned to distribute the booty to his own men. But Lee had decided to grant the generous terms rather than prolong the siege because he was told that Rawdon was heading toward Granby with reinforcements.

  Now Sumter took his turn in offering his resignation to Greene. But Greene would not accept it, and he managed to mollify the Gamecock by giving him some of the munitions and provisions captured at Granby as well as some slaves taken from loyalists there, which Sumter used to pay the men he had recruited under Sumter’s Law.

  Greene also reconfirmed to Sumter that he was the head of all militia in South Carolina, with authority to use Marion as he saw fit. To make sure Marion got the message, Greene had an aide send him a letter directing him to continue to harass the enemy “and to receive General Sumter’s orders.”

  With that the American forces split off in different directions. Greene took his army to commence a siege at Ninety-Six, the only major garrison in the South Carolina interior still held by the British. Lee, acting in concert with Georgia militia leader Elijah Clarke, took Fort Galpin near Augusta on May 21, then moved to assist Pickens in reducing the remaining forts defending that key city. Sumter continued to patrol south and west of the Congaree.

  And Marion set his sights once again on Georgetown.

  An overly dramatized depiction of Marion leading his men through a pass against the Cherokees in 1761. Marion reportedly expressed regret about the subsequent atrocities committed by the British and colonials against the “poor creatures.” (c. 1844. New York Public Library)

  The British attack on Charleston’s Fort Sullivan in 1776, in which Marion helped command South Carolina’s 2nd Regiment in its successful defense of the fort. The British would return to Charleston four years later. (Harper’s Weekly, June 26, 1858)

  Colonel William Moultrie, Marion’s mentor and overall commander of the defense of Fort Sullivan in 1776. The fort was soon renamed Fort Moultrie in his honor. (Engraving, 1862, after a portrait by Alonzo Chappel)

  Replica of a soldier from Marion’s South Carolina 2nd Regiment, in National Parks museum at Fort Moultrie. The inscription on the crescent reads “Liberty.” (author photo)

  The Battle of Savannah, 1779. Marion led an unsuccessful patriot assault on a British fortification in which nearly half the Americans did not return. A British officer observed that “the ditch was choke full of their Dead.” (Illustration by A. I. Keller, 1866–1924)

  106 Tradd Street in Charleston. According to legend, Marion jumped from a second-story window here in March 1780 to escape a drinking party where the host had locked the guests inside. It was a lucky quirk of history, as Marion broke his ankle and had retired to the countryside to recuperate when Charleston fell to the British and the American soldiers garrisoned there became prisoners of war. (author photo)

  Sir Henry Clinton, commander in chief
of British operations in North America, who directed the siege that led to Charleston’s fall in May 1780. A proclamation that Clinton soon issued, requiring rebels to sign an oath of allegiance to the king and actively assist the British government, ended up backfiring. Citizens who had been neutral rallied to the patriot cause and formed a resistance movement that Marion, among other guerrilla leaders, would spearhead. (John Smart, c. 1777. New York Public Library)

  General Horatio Gates, commander of the American southern army following the fall of Charleston. After Gates’s disastrous defeat at the Battle of Camden in August 1780, Francis Marion’s was the only viable patriot fighting force left in South Carolina. (H. B. Hall, 1872. New York Public Library)

  Charles, Earl Cornwallis, commander of British southern operations from 1780 to 1782. Marion’s constant harassment of British supply lines so infuriated Cornwallis that several “death squads” were dispatched in sequence to eliminate him as a threat. (Engraving by George J. Stodart, from a painting by J. S. Copley)

  “Marion Crossing the Pee Dee.” (William Ranney, c. 1850). Marion is likely the second horseman from left, wearing the blanket.

  Banastre Tarleton, the dashing British cavalry leader reputed by legend to have given Marion his nickname. After pursuing Marion for seven hours through 26 miles of swamps, Tarleton called off the chase, saying, “as for this damned old fox, the Devil himself could not catch him.” (Portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds)

  An idealized depiction of the “Swamp Fox” in action. (Engraving, 1858, from a painting by Alonzo Chappel, c. 1856)

  “Revolutionary Militia Crossing a River.” Marion is in front of the white flag. (William Ranney, c. 1853–1854)

  Thomas Sumter, the “Gamecock,” who led the patriot militia in the middle part of South Carolina, while Marion covered the eastern portion. The two leaders disliked each other; Sumter was considered “bold and rash,” while Marion was “cautious and vigilant.” (Original portrait by Charles Wilson Peale. New York Public Library)

  Andrew Pickens, the third of the great triumvirate of “partisan” leaders in South Carolina, along with Marion and Sumter. Pickens led the militia in the northwest third of the state, closest to Indian Territory. (Original portrait by Thomas Sully. New York Public Library)

  Modern day Halfway Swamp, much as it looked during Marion’s engagement with the enemy there in December 1780. (author photo)

  “General Marion Inviting a British Officer to Share His Meal.” (Engraving, c. 1840 by John Sartain, after a painting by John Blake White, c. 1810–1836). In his imagining of the famous “sweet potato” dinner, White painted the only portrait of Marion by someone who knew him during his lifetime. Standing behind Marion is his faithful African American slave and personal valet, Oscar, or “Buddy.” (Library of Congress)

  General Nathanael Greene, who replaced Gates as the American Continental commander in the South in December 1780, and forged a close working relationship with Marion. (Original portrait by Charles Wilson Peale. New York Public Library)

  Snow’s Island, the location of Marion’s secret base camp and place of rendezvous from which his men ventured forth to annoy the enemy. (author photo)

  Henry “Light-Horse Harry” Lee, a young Continental cavalry commander, was sent by General Greene to join Marion at Snow’s Island in January 1781 to begin conducting joint operations (but had trouble finding the secret lair). (Original portrait by Gilbert Stuart. New York Public Library)

  Francis, Lord Rawdon, was left in charge of the British field army in South Carolina when Cornwallis left for Yorktown in Virginia. “I must drive Marion out of that country [South Carolina],” Rawdon had declared to Cornwallis, “but I cannot yet say what steps I shall take to effect it.” (Portrait by Joshua Reynolds)

  Marion’s Brigade (right) prepares to engage John Watson’s British force at Wyboo Swamp, South Carolina, in March 1781. (painting by Terry Smith, 2006, courtesy of Swamp Fox Murals Trail Society, www.clarendonmurals.com)

  Fort Watson, a key British outpost Marion and Lee besieged in April 1781 and eventually captured, with the benefit of the hastily-constructed “Maham Tower” (shown at left). Patriot marksmen rained rifle fire from the tower’s perch down upon the British defenders in the fort. (Benson Lossing/Alice Barritt, c. 1850s)

  A modern view of the Indian temple mound atop which the British built Fort Watson. The patriots built their tower more than 30 feet high to enable their sharpshooters to fire down into the fort. (author photo)

  Three weeks after the fall of Fort Watson, Marion and Lee forced the surrender of Fort Motte, another strategic British post, by setting the fort’s roof on fire with flaming arrows. Here they are shown with patriot Rebecca Motte, who owned the mansion commandeered by the British for their fort; she willingly provided the bow and arrows with which to burn down her own house. (John Blake White, c. 1850)

  Peter Horry, Marion’s longtime friend and subordinate commander, who provided a written manuscript that Mason L. “Parson” Weems turned into a highly fictionalized popular biography of Marion. (John Szekes, 1976, after an original portrait by unknown artist, presented to Peter Horry Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution, Conway, South Carolina)

  Hezekiah Maham, who came up with the idea for the “Maham Tower” that toppled Fort Watson. Although a capable cavalry commander, Maham had a long-running dispute with Peter Horry over rank that created constant headaches for Marion, under whom both men served. (South Carolina Historical Society)

  The ruins of Biggin Church, near Monck’s Corner and Marion’s birthplace, and where he likely was baptized. In July 1781 it played a crucial role in the lead-up to one of Marion’s bloodiest battles. (author photo)

  Marion’s ambush of the enemy at Parker’s Ferry in August 1781, perhaps his greatest victory as a partisan commander. One loyalist (Tory) officer caught in the surprise attack called it “the most galling fire ever troops experienced.” (c. 1844)

  A modern view of the Parker’s Ferry causeway, where the British were wedged in so closely that they were forced to “run the gauntlet” of Marion’s ambush. (author photo)

  The Battle of Eutaw Springs, September 8, 1781, one of the bloodiest of the war, was the last major field engagement in the South. Marion was in charge of the front line of militia, which distinguished itself by firing 17 volleys per man. (F. C. Yohn, 1903. New York Public Library)

  Marion, at Eutaw Springs. In typically understated fashion, he reported afterward, “My men behaved well.” (Engraving by Thomas Welch, c. 1836, from a drawing by James B. Longacre and portrait by Thomas Stothard, c. 1834)

  Marion, by an unknown artist c. 1847.

  Marion’s grave in Pineville, South Carolina. His marker describes him as “a soldier who lived without fear and died without reproach.” His wife, Mary Videau, is buried alongside him. (author photo)

  Francis Marion immortalized, in statues across South Carolina. Upper left: sculpture by Garland Weeks at Francis Marion University, Florence (photo courtesy of Francis Marion University). Upper right: sculpture by Robert Barinowski, displayed at 2014 Francis Marion/Swamp Fox Symposium, Manning (author photo). Bottom: sculpture by Alex Palkovich at Venters’ Landing (formerly Witherspoon’s Ferry) in Johnsonville, where Marion first took charge of a partisan guerrilla brigade. (author photo)

  18

  Winning by Losing

  Almost as soon as Fort Motte fell, Marion began agitating for one more chance at taking Georgetown. “I beg leave to go and reduce that place,” he wrote Greene on May 19, explaining that the garrison there was down to eighty men. Capturing Georgetown would quiet the Tories in the area, who were causing much trouble, Marion wrote. He hoped to hear from Greene as soon as possible lest the garrison “slip through” his hands. Even before hearing anything back, Marion wrote twice more to reiterate his request but said he would await Greene’s orders.

  Marion was now at Peyre’s Plantation, a new hideout on Gaillard’s Island along the Santee in St. Stephen’s Parish,
not far from his late brother Gabriel’s Belle Isle estate. Like the camp on Snow’s Island, this one lay deep within protective layers of marshes, cane brakes, and pines, with sentries posted to whistle their signals. Impatiently Marion waited there for the go-ahead from Greene to attack Georgetown.

  But Nathanael Greene was not too interested in Francis Marion’s designs on Georgetown. Although he had approved Lee and Marion’s effort to capture it back in January, he now considered it an “inferior object.” Greene’s highest priority was taking the British post at Ninety-Six, northwest of Fort Motte, and he feared that Rawdon, despite having moved toward Charleston, might double back and interfere with his siege. He did not want Marion off in Georgetown, two hundred miles away, if Rawdon made the slightest move toward Ninety-Six. On May 26 he gave a half-hearted, conditional approval to the mission: he had no objection to Marion moving on Georgetown provided he did not leave Sumter exposed where he was and Rawdon did not head toward Ninety-Six.