rs in the city heard that "Peaceful Retreat" had been
captured by the British, they determined to rescue it from the enemy.
Two large galleys were immediately manned and equipped and sent to the
plantation, with strict orders not to fire upon the mansion.

Sailing noiselessly up the Stono River, at dead of night, the vessels
anchored abreast the plantation. Suddenly, out of the thick darkness
burst a flame and roar, and the shot came crashing through the British
encampment. The whole place was instantly in uproar. The officers in
the house sprang from bed, and hastily dressed and armed. The family,
rudely awakened, rushed to the windows. A cold rain was falling, and
the soldiers, half-clad, were running wildly hither and thither, while
the officers were frantically calling them to arms. Mary woke at the
first terrible roar and fled to her mother's room. The excitable negro
servants uttered most piercing shrieks. The poor little children were
too frightened to scream, but clung, trembling, to Mary.

Mrs. Gibbes was in great distress. She knew not, at first, whether it
was an attack by friends on the camp, or an assault on the house by the
enemy. She ordered the servants to cease their wailing and dress
themselves. Then her husband and the children were prepared; and, while
the cannon bellowed in quick succession and the noise around the house
grew louder, the father and mother consulted what was best to do. It
was now evident that the attack was by their own friends, and its
object was to dislodge the enemy. But Mr. Gibbes did not know that the
house would not be fired on, and he advised instant flight. He was
carried to his chair, and the whole household sallied forth from a back
door.

The scene was terrific. The night was pitchy dark, and when, just as
they stepped out, a sheet of flame belched forth from the vessels, it
seemed to be almost against their faces. The roar shook the ground.
The troops were too busy saving themselves to notice the fugitives, and
they pushed on as rapidly as possible.

No one was sufficiently protected from the rain. Little Mary had the
hardest part, for nearly all the children were in her care. The mud was
deep. Some of the little ones could walk but a short distance at a
time, and had to be carried--Mary having always one, sometimes two, in
her arms. Several of the servants were near her, but none of them
seemed to notice her or her burdens. The last horse had been carried
off that v