Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox

On February 10, 1780, fast-moving footsteps kicked up dust on the wooden staircase leading to steeple of St. Michael’s Church.

Newspaper editor Peter Timothy, with a spyglass tightly clutched in one hand, grabbed the banister with the other as he bounded the steps two at a time.  

Like bees in a rose garden, rumors buzzed around Charles Towne. He needed to find the truth.

Sweat broke out under his gray wig and panting for breath, he finally reached the port city's tallest lookout. There he placed the spyglass against one eye.  Slowly, he scanned across miles of the Atlantic Ocean and South Carolina coast. with its low marshes and sandy beaches.

When he looked south towards some nearby sea islands, a shocked gasp escaped from his mouth.

Against the clear blue winter sky, wisps of gray smoke rose slowly from hundreds of campfires of soldiers warmly dressed in bright red coats.

The British Army had arrived.

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