The Minute Boys of South Carolina : $b A story of "How we boys aided Marion the Swamp Fox"Otis, James
History
The Minute Boys of South Carolina : $b A story of "How we boys aided Marion the Swamp Fox"
Otis, James
Marion, Francis, 1732-1795 -- Juvenile fiction; South Carolina -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
Each member of the company took position where he could find shelter,
and with musket at his shoulder watched for the flash of light which
should tell the whereabouts of him who fired the last shot.
In this position we remained for a long, weary time, the silence broken
only by the reports of the muskets now and then, a shot from the
thicket being answered by at least three from us, and when it seemed as
if the night must be nearly at an end we had heard no cry of pain to
tell that our missiles had taken effect, nor had we received harm. It
was a bloodless skirmish in which no advantage could be gained by one
side or the other, save in the way of expending ammunition, although
all the time there was present in our minds the possibility that the
enemy might try to creep up on us from some other direction.
“It is when the day breaks that we must have our wits about us,”
Gabriel whispered in my ear as he changed position so that it might
be possible for us to converse privately. “Then those who are in the
thicket should be able to see their targets while themselves remain
concealed from view.”
“But we are not going to stay here very long after daylight,” I made
reply.
“No more minutes than may be necessary to mount and ride away, but it
is while we are getting ready for the flight--and it is nothing better
than a flight--that we shall be in gravest danger.”
“And it would serve us well right if we carried in our bodies a few
of their bullets,” I replied moodily, for the stupidity which we had
displayed caused me to feel mighty sore. “After this night I reckon we
Minute Boys had best talk less of what it is possible to do, and strive
harder to carry out the plans of our leader.”
“Now are you grown oversensitive, Rufus. We may say without boasting
that not a little has been accomplished by us lads, and one mistake
should not be of overly great weight in the balance.”
“Well, you may figure it out as you please, strive to get all the
comfort possible from the blunder, but as for me, whenever I am tempted
to argue that our company might make a bold stroke, I shall remember
this night’s work and hold my peace.”
Then Gabriel left off talking to me, as if irritated because I could
speak of nothing save that which had just been done by us, and again
the dreary dispiriting work of watching for a random flash, that we
might fire blindly into the thicket, was resumed.
In much this same fashion was the entire night spent. When one or
another would weary of his fruitless efforts to inflict injury, he
strove to enter into conversation with the comrade nearest him, and, so
far as I could learn, all the talk centred about the blunder of which
we had been guilty.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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