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FREE EXCERPT! CHARLESTON
"But I'm only a private," Edward protested when Earle Hughston invited him to an officer's party at the home of Captain McQueen of the South Carolina Second. The Second was a line regiment with a distinguished record going back to the Cherokee wars of 1759 and 1761. The regiment had fought valiantly at Fort Moultrie, and again in last December's failed assault on Savannah. There, grenadier sergeant Jasper who'd saved Moultrie's blue palmetto flag in '76, carried the regiment's red banner to the summit of an enemy redoubt, only to be fatally hit before the regiment was thrown back. "Don't worry, I'll promote you to lieutenant for the evening," Hughston said. "One hunting shirt fits all ranks." "I don't understand your generosity." "It's obvious you're misplaced here. At the party you might make a contact that would afford you a chance to fight. For that, you'd tell a lie about your rank, wouldn't you?" "I would, and a lot more. I'd walk through hell's hot coals barefoot." "Then it's settled. Corner of Tradd and Orange Streets, half past seven." # About thirty officers gathered in the house of their host, Captain Alexander McQueen. Edward immediately noted varied uniforms: brilliant crimson coats from the Second Regiment; older coats of brown, the color decreed by Congress at the start of the war; coats of dark blue, the color adopted last year. There were several hunting shirts like his and the captain's. Captain McQueen was stiffly cordial when introduced to Edward. "Gentlemen," he announced, "I present a comrade of Captain Hughstan's, from his militia company. Lieutenant Edward Bell." "Relation to Tom Bell?" a bewigged major asked. "Yes, sir, his son." The major pressed a bumper of hot spiced wine into Edward's hand. "Drink up, sir, and welcome." Two black servants kept the guests supplied with beer and wine and gin. Clay pipes filled the downstairs with a thick haze of aromatic smoke. A buffet of meats and cheeses was quickly depleted in the dining room, then replenished. The officers seemed to suffer no shortages. The party rolled on for an hour amid arguments over strategy and profane condemnations of the enemy, especially the dragoon Tarleton who seemed to have acquired a Satanic reputation overnight. Edward drank freely without counting the rounds. At half past eight a new man arrived, greeted with cries of, "Francis," and, "Hand the colonel a drink." "You know I take only a little, Alex," the new man said. He was a short, swarthy fellow with lively black eyes, rigidly correct posture, and a neat uniform of white breeches and red jacket. He laid his black leather cap on a table piled high with similar ones. A silver crescent on the cap bore the words Liberty or Death. Edward found himself at the buffet table with the officer. The man seemed friendly, though far less boisterous than his fellows. Emboldened by what held drunk, Edward offered his hand. "If I may presume, sir. Edward Bell, Captain Hughston's militia regiment. Lieutenant," he added as a hasty afterthought. "Lieutenant Colonel Marion, sir. Second Carolina." Edward knew him then: a bachelor soldier with a reputation for courage and superior tactical thinking. Marion's people were Huguenots, Protestant refugees from France; Carolina was thick with them. The Marions had settled in the desolate swamps and forests of the Lower Santee. The colonel was about 50, Edward judged. Marion rested his hand on the pommel of his short infantry sword and looked Edward up and down. "Your father owns Bells', Bridge?" "That's correct, sir." "An admirable patriot. How are you getting on in the army?" "At the moment I'm digging and hauling sand on the Ashley fortifications. It seems a poor contribution." "You'd prefer field duty?" "I would. I've had no formal training, there's no time for it, I'm told. But I'm a good horseman, and a decent shot." Marion pointed at Edward's brimming cup. "Drinking is not something that contributes to a soldier's effectiveness. The opposite, in fact. If you served with me, you'd be sober as a rock day and night, or you wouldn't serve." Captain McQueen shouted and clapped for attention. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, the meat of the evening. Toasts to our cause, and the downfall of King George, General Clinton, General Cornwallis -- the whole bloody lot. Someone tell the niggers to bar the doors. We want no damned Tory sympathizers interfering." Like most of the guests, McQueen was barely able to stand. Marion seemed appalled by all the lurching and belching and breaking of wind. A servant shot the bolt of the front door. Marion frowned and put his cup of beer aside. "Lieutenant, you must excuse me. I am not here to drink myself into a stupor." He marched out of the room. Earle Hughston climbed on a chair to propose the first toast. "Confusion to our enemies. Victory to our cause. Liberty to our land." Nearly as much liquid spilled over chins and uniforms as found its ways down the gullets of the drinkers. Edward didn't see Marion anywhere. Had he somehow escaped from the locked house? When Edward met Captain Hughston next morning, both of them had bloodshot eyes and pounding headaches. "So you talked to the wrong man," Hughston said after Edward told his story. "Quite. I had a drink in my hand. That finished me. What happened to Marion?" "Hied himself up to the second floor and leaped out a window. Couldn't stand to be penned up with a crowd of bloody drunkards. Did some harm to his ankle when he landed. May have broken it. Out of action for a while." And out of Charleston; Marion had been carried to the Cooper on a litter, and borne away to recuperate, presumably at his home in the Santee wilderness. Edward didn't know what to make of the odd little officer. One thing certain: he'd keep on shoveling dirt rather than serve with someone so puritanical. But, sooner than he expects, he does . . . Excerpted from Chapter 8 of Charleston by John Jakes Published August 2002 Copyright © 2002 by John Jakes Reproduced by permission of Dutton, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc. Permission is granted to distribute this selection to other individuals for their personal use only. Back to Charleston page
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