Love in the Midst of War

Anne listened to the muffled drums as she watched the dusty British soldiers parade down the street and stop next to their redoubt down the way. The earthen redoubt mounted three cannon and was the main defensive fortification for the British occupying troops. Commands snapped out sharply as the tired men were brought to an orderly halt and dismissed. Officers and NCOs took charge of posting guards and getting the soldiers settled at their new post. It was Sunday, Christmas Eve, 1780 and the weather was chilly and overcast as the sun settled toward the horizon.

Georgetown, South Carolina had fallen to the British last summer shortly after Charleston surrendered. These newly arrived soldiers were Tories from the New York colony. There were maybe 300 scarlet-coated infantry and about 40 green-coated mounted rangers along with a dozen supply wagons. These soldiers replaced the British regulars who had been there since July and were now on their way upcountry to Camden to fight in the increasingly savage civil war that wracked the Carolinas.

Anne sighed and turned away from her second floor bedroom window. She was a tall, comely young woman of nineteen with black hair and dark eyes. Her father was a successful merchant with two brigs and a sloop making the circuits from Carolina to the West Indies and the northern colonies. Now that the British were in control again, they were able to ship the profitable barrels of indigo and rice to England. The barrels had been accumulating in their warehouses since the declaration of American independence. Anne kept the business ledgers for her father and was well versed in the business affairs.

Since their livelihood depended on trade, and the British Navy controlled the sea, Anne and her family were lukewarm Loyalists but took no overt part in the hostilities. Anne's father tried to walk the treacherous path of neutrality with friends and family on both sides of the fight.

Anne was engaged to be married next June to the twenty-four-year-old son of another Georgetown merchant, but he was now four months overdue from a trading trip to Barbados. Neither ship nor young man had been heard from. It was all but certain that they went down in bad weather, were accosted by pirates, or some other calamity befell them. So now she was, what? A widowed fiancee, the bereaved, engagee of the late Mr. Trapier, the unfortunate betrothed; nothing fit. She was trapped in a never-never-land, neither married nor available for serious courting while the fate of her fiancee was in the wind.

They would be getting two new officers from the newly arrived soldiers. Most of the troops were quartered in homes near the British fortification, and Anne's family had been assigned to feed and lodge two officers. Her two younger brothers had lost their rooms on the first floor to the officers and were now camped in the carriage house with the house servants. The two regular British officers who had just left for Camden were haughty and contemptuous of colonists regardless of whether they were rebels or loyalists. Good riddance. These new Tory officers surely couldn't be any worse.

Dinner

As Anne descended the stairs for dinner, she heard masculine voices from the parlor interspersed with her mother's lighter Huguenot accented tones. It was Christmas Eve so there would be drinks in the parlor followed by a bountiful meal. Usually Anne delighted in the seasonal festivities, but this year, between the war and her lost beau, she was in no mood to be charming for guests, especially those forced upon her family by the British Army.

Anne's father looked up as she entered the parlor and gently chided her, "Ah, Anne you have deigned to join us at long last. May I present Major Irwin, regimental major of the King's American Regiment of Foot and Major Crookshanks, adjutant of the regiment."

Anne studied the two officers clad in white trousers and scarlet jackets with green facings as they stood and made polite mummers of greetings. Irwin was a solid bear of a man maybe 30, a tough looking warrior. But Crookshanks was a pleasant surprise. An attractive slender man with brown hair and dreamy, hazel eyes. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, certainly young to be an adjutant. He was more refined in appearance than Irwin but had a steely demeanor that suggested full competence in 'res militaris.' This pair was definitely an improvement over the two haughty British regular officers who had just left - that was especially true for that attractive Major Crookshanks! Maybe the Christmas season was brightening up after all.

Anne sat by her Mother on the sofa and joined her in a glass of sherry. The men were drinking Barbados rum. The two young officers were enchanted with Anne who provided a refreshing respite from the Spartan masculine harshness of an army at war. She found herself warming to their attentions.

The maid called everyone to dinner, and Anne made a point to sit next to Major Crookshanks. Christmas Eve dinner was a sumptuous feast of oysters, fried grouper, venison, shrimp pilau, and a host of vegetables and fresh breads. The two soldiers looked upon the bountiful spread with wide-eyed delight as it had been a hard five-day march on field rations through largely hostile territory from Charleston to Georgetown. After the blessing, the food and wine flowed freely as dictated by Carolina hospitality.

Anne's mother asked in typical matronly Carolina fashion, "Now Major Crookshanks, who are your people there in New York? Do we know of anyone in common, I wonder?"

Major Crookshanks replied, " My grandfather came over from Leeds in '12 and settled on a 1,000 acre grant on the north bank of the Hudson River. We raise wheat, corn, vegetables, and cattle. New York City is a very profitable market for foodstuffs and transport on the Hudson is easy. My uncle is captain of the 'Gallant.' He often makes the Charleston to Plymouth to New York circuit. Perhaps you have dealt with him?"

Anne's father brightened, "Of course, Captain Crookshanks of the 'Gallant.' That is why your name sounded familiar. Certainly, we have done business with him in the past. Of course, since '76 with the war and all, we were cut off from trade with England and New York. It has been some time since I had the pleasure of seeing your uncle."

Anne was anxious to join in the conversation and blushing slightly asked, "Major, do you have a wife or siblings and is your family well?"

"No wife, but I do have a younger brother and two younger sisters. All are well, thank you. But alas, rebels burned our farms and crops. My family had to flee to the city and the protection of the British army."

"How terrible. Is that why you are in the army now?" Anne asked sympathetically.

"It is. I was studying at New Jersey College at Princeton when the rebels drove my family off our land. I joined as soon as the regiment formed in New York in 1777."

Anne's mother pried, "Aren't you young to already be the regimental adjutant?"

The two Tory majors glanced at each other, and then Major Irwin smiled and answered. "Major Crookshanks joined us as a company lieutenant and distinguished himself in operations in Rhode Island. He was promoted to captain and company commander last year when his company commander and about 150 of our lads volunteered to accompany Captain Patrick Ferguson as part of his Corps of American Volunteers for the campaign here in Carolina."

'Oh dear," Anne's mother murmured. "Is there any news of them?"

Ferguson and his command had been annihilated by the American Rebels at King's Mountain, South Carolina just two month before.

"No, I fear not," Major Irwin answered grimly. "Our comrades are either dead or prisoners of the Rebels. Then our regimental adjutant died of fever in Charleston about three weeks ago. John is easily one of our most talented officers, and Lord Cornwallis approved him for promotion to regimental adjutant right away."

The dinner conversation continued on lively and congenial, but Anne only had attention for Major Crookshanks. Anne's parents watched her sudden warmth and attentiveness toward Major Crookshanks with pleased amusement. For too long she had been despondent about her lost fiancee. Now, her usual lively, friendly nature was blossoming again.

When Anne retired after dinner, she found sleep elusive. It had been a long time since she couldn't sleep because she was thinking about a man.

Christmas, 1780

Christmas Day passed with traditional visits to and from friends and family. Anne's parents gave her a beautiful silver necklace with an emerald from the Spanish mines in New Granada. Her brothers each received beautifully crafted hunting rifles made by Alexander Clark in the Camden District. At two o'clock there was another feast with over twenty guests.

The two new officers missed all the festivities as they left before dawn and were on duty all day, not returning until almost eight at night. Anne had the kitchen staff bring them leftovers from the Christmas meal, and she sat with them while they ate.

Major Irwin said, "Anne, thank you for this. We have not eaten since breakfast, and this is wonderful."

"What in the world have you two been doing that took all of Christmas Day?" Anne asked.

Major Crookshanks replied. "We had to be sure everyone was settled in properly and that guard and fatigue details were manned and doing their jobs. Supplies had to be unpacked and stored. Reports had to be written. Patrols had to be dispatched to search for rebels. There is no end of details to be tended to in an army."

Major Irwin added, "One of our patrols clashed with some of Col. Marion's rebels out by the Sampit River. Lt. Wilson and Lt. Col. Campbell were wounded in the melee."

"Oh dear, how badly is the Colonel hurt?" Anne asked.

Major Crookshanks answered drily, "Not badly enough. It is a minor wound, and he remains in command, to the dismay of all of the officers serving under him."

"Oh, the Colonel is not well-liked then?" Anne asked.

The two officers glanced at one another and then Major Irwin answered, 'Ah, he gets on poorly with his officers. At the siege of Newport, he unjustly attempted to court martial Captain DePeyster, one of our best company commanders. I fear none of us serve under him willingly."

The conversation shifted to more pleasant topics. The two officers were enjoying spending time with a pretty girl. And the pretty girl was enjoying the two young officers.

Wartime romances proceed with a desperation and at a frenzied pace unknown to peacetime courtship. Danger hovers over the lovers and may snuff out their love story in a flash.

The budding romance between Anne and Major Crookshanks exploded in the week following Christmas. Whenever the Major was free of army duties, he spent his time with Anne conversing in the parlor, playing cards, walking in the garden, or strolling about the town. The couple's stolen kisses and embraces were becoming more passionate. Major Irwin graciously yielded Cupid's field to his friend, Major Crookshanks.

New Years Day, 1781

Anne and her family went to communion service at St. John's Anglican Church as they customarily did on New Year's Day. The new rector was droning on about everyone's duty to the King in his neverending sermon. Anne's attention quickly drifted. Last night there had been a grand ball at the Allston's mansion. It was the first time she had been out socializing in quite awhile. It had been delightful. She was in great demand by the young men as a dance partner, but she made sure to reserve several of her dances, including the last one, for Major Crookshanks. There were far more interesting things to think about than the rector's dry sermon.

That New Year's night, Anne waited until all had retired to their rooms, and the house was dark and silent. She slipped from her room and down the stairs to Major Crookshanks' room. She tapped lightly on the door and then slipped inside, closing the door silently behind her.

Major Crookshanks was seated in his shirtsleeves at the desk working on the interminable army paperwork by candlelight. "Anne, what are you doing here?" a surprised Major Crookshanks looked up with a puzzled frown.

Anne was nervous as a cat but plunged on with her plan. She wiggled out of her linen nightshift, letting it fall to the floor and providing Major Crookshanks a delectable view.

Anne answered with a gay smile, "Why John Crookshanks, I believe that is the silliest thing a man has ever said to me."

These late night trysts became common as the two lovers slaked their passion for one another. Anne would slip back to her room in the wee hours of the morning to escape detection.

16 January, 1781

Anne awoke next to her lover with a start. She was late; it would be dawn shortly. When she started back to her room earlier, John had pulled her back into bed for another round of love making. Sated, she had fallen too soundly asleep and now could hear the servants starting to move around, opening the house for the morning. She had to get going or be caught in a scandalous situation.

Quickly slipping on her nightshift, she left John snoring lightly. A quick peek out the door revealed nobody about in the front of the house. She tiptoed quickly to the stairs that led upstairs to her room.

Sally, the longtime house servant, pushed through the back door carrying two cups of steaming coffee. Coffee had largely replaced tea in the Carolina diet after the earlier tea tax brouhaha. She was on her way to wake Anne's parents. Sally and her husband were slaves that had been wedding gifts to Anne's Mother.

"Uhm, uhm, girl," Sally said with a knowing smile. "You better get a move on if you don't want to get caught."

Anne was mortified and blushed scarlet. "I, huh, couldn't sleep. I ...," she didn't know what to say.

Sally laughed gently, "Hush, chil'. I taken care of you since you were born and know what's on your mind afore you do. Besides when I find a woman's long black hair on the Major's pillow, I know exactly what my little darlin' is up to."

Anne clasped her hands, "Oh Sally, what should I do?"

Sally sighed and shook her head sadly. "Honey, these are terrible times I never dreamed to see. Neighbor killing neighbor, hangings, rapes, stealing, burnings. The good Lord has loosened the winds of Armageddon on the Carolinas. Yo' fiancee ain't coming back. You grab hold tight of your soldier boy while you can afore he gets himself shot dead or shipped off somewhere else to fight."

Anne ran over and hugged Sally, being careful not to spill the coffee. "Bless you. But he is a Tory, and many here are Liberty Men."

"There ain't no right in this kinda war. The Lord, he will curse the evil on both sides. We just have to live through it somehow. Don't much matter to me who wins; I remain a slave regardless. I just hope this here family can get through safe and sound. Now, go on and get yourself cleaned up and down to breakfast. Yo' folks will skin you alive if they catch you."

25 January 1781

Anne was cuddled up with John, drifting between a light doze and dreamy wakefulness. It was almost 4:00 am and time for her to slip back to her room. But she wanted to tarry in the warm embrace of her lover for just a minute longer.

A musket shot reverberated in the chill night air. It was followed by a flurry of shots and excited shouts of men. Anne sat bolt upright, eyes wide with fear. "What is it? What is going on?" she stammered.

Anne's Major had already leapt from bed and pulled on trousers and boots. "Quickly Anne, go to your room, right now."

Anne swung her legs from the bed and rose. "John, what is it?" she asked in a tremulous voice.

"It must be that devil Marion and his cutthroats. Get to your room, now and stay there." Major Crookshanks pulled on his shirt, drew his sword from the scabbard hanging on the chair, and was gone.

Panicked now, Anne searched for her nightshift. It had to be here somewhere. A boom of a cannon at the redoubt elicited a frightened squeak from Anne. Abandoning the nightgown search in a panic, she fled to the bedroom door and peeked out.

Down the hall through the front windows, she could make out maybe two dozen armed men in the street. The evening moon and stars cast an eerie indistinct light on the confused scene. One group appeared to be rushing toward the house across the street where Lt. Col. Campbell lodged; one was approaching the front of her house at a trot.

Major Irwin was already halfway down the stairs from the porch. John stepped onto the porch a few steps behind Major Irwin.

It was now or never. Anne made a mad dash down the dark hall headed for the stairs and the beckoning safety of her room upstairs.

Major Irwin shouted, "Come on, John. They are trying to cut us off from the men." He raised his pistol and fired at the approaching soldiers. "Damn you rebel curs."

Five shots rang out in reply, three harmlessly splintered a porch column and adjacent railing, but two struck Major Irwin. He groaned and collapsed.

John stepped forward with his raised sword to cover his fallen comrade. A swarm of muskets and drawn swords pointed at him. The ominous click of hammers being cocked penetrated the night air. A chorus of excited intermixed shouts rang out: "Drop it! Shoot him! Do you wish quarter, Sir? Damn Tory! Give 'em Tarleton's quarter!"

Parson Weems describes what happened next in his 1805 biography of Francis Marion, and I would be hard pressed to improve upon his prose of that era.

'Adjutant Crookshanks acting in the same heroic style would have shared the same fate had it not been for an angel of a young woman, daughter of the gentleman of the house. She rushed into the piazza amidst the mortal fray, with no armor but her love, no covering but her flowing tresses. Happily for her lover, she got to him just in time to throw her arms around his neck and scream out, "Oh save! save Major Crookshanks!" This with her own sweet body shielding him against the uplifted swords of her enraged countrymen!'

'Crookshanks yielded himself our prisoner; but we paroled him on the spot, and left him to those delicious sentiments which he must have felt in the arms of an elegant young woman, who had saved his life by an effort of love sufficient to endear her to him to all eternity.'

'There is a beauty in generous actions which charms the souls of men! and a sweetness, which like the immortal love whence it flows, can never die. The eyes of all, even the poorest soldiers in our camp, sparkled with pleasure whenever they talked, as they often did, of this charming woman.'

Epilogue

Now, the good Parson was known to sometimes stretch the facts a mite. But if his story ain't quite all true, well, it should oughta be.

The Georgetown raid of 25 January 1781 was a combined amphibious and ground assault by Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox, and his partisans with Light Horse Harry Lee's legion of Continentals. Surprise was complete. The British barricaded themselves in their quarters and the redoubt, and the American Rebels elected to withdraw rather than slug it out with heavy casualties prying the British out of their barricades. Each side suffered one man killed and several wounded. Three British officers were captured: one was gravely wounded, one was the new regimental adjutant Major Crookshanks, and one was the unpopular detachment commander, Lt. Col. Campbell. The officers were paroled and out of the war until formally exchanged for American prisoners of equal rank.

And as for our young lovers, the rest of their story is lost in the mists of time and left to our imagination.

But on this desperate winter night, a young woman's love stayed men's murderous hatred and fear to let 'the better angels of our nature' shine forth, however briefly.