to watch all the several roads
by which Watson could make his way to Camden. It was important, if
possible, to prevent his junction with Lord Rawdon, thus increasing
the ability of that commander to cope with Greene's army, which now lay
before that place. But Marion was not able to encounter Watson without
assistance. Lee, with his legion, had been withdrawn by Greene soon
after the capture of Fort Watson, and our partisan's force in camp, from
concurring circumstances, was now reduced to about eighty men. Eighty of
his brigade were detached under Col. Irvine to Rafting Creek, in order
to cut off supplies from Camden. Another party was engaged in watching
a rising of the Tories on the Pedee, who, in the absence of Marion
himself, had manifested a disposition to resume the offensive; Col.
Harden, with another detachment, was on the Salkehatchie, having first
succeeded in the capture of Fort Balfour at Pocotaligo, in which he
made nearly a hundred prisoners. Other small detachments had thinned
the little army of our partisan to such a degree that it was of small
efficiency where it was; and, just at this juncture, numerous desertions
took place from two concurring circumstances. The approach of Marion to
the hills had brought on the battle of Camden. Unwilling that Greene's
force should be increased by the militia of the former, Rawdon had
resolved not to wait for Watson, but to march out and give battle before
the coming of either. He did so. The affair was not decisive, but Greene
was compelled to yield the field to his enemy. He lost nothing, whether
of honor or position, by this result. But, as the news spread, the
defeat was exaggerated. It was supposed to be another affair such as
that of Gates, and Marion's small body of men was still farther lessened
by desertion. There was still another reason for its present feebleness.
The time of the year was the very height of the planting season, and the
farmer-soldiers, in numbers, left the camp in order to hurry to their
homes and set their crops. This, though not allowed by the regular
disciplinarian, was, in the mind of the militia-man, a duty quite as
imperative as any that he owed to his family. Indeed, it was inseparable
from his necessities that, where the Government did not give him bread,
he must make it for himself. His family could not starve, and if he
could fight without pay, it was not possible that he should do so
without food. In the sort of warfare which Ma