Person:Charles Mackey (4)

Excerpt from 
The Story of My Life, by Dr. James Marion Sims, M.D., passed down from his mother Mahala Mackey, the ninth and youngest daughter of Charles and Lydia Mackey:

In 1781, South Carolina was completely overrun by the British. Lord Cornwallis held quiet possession of Charleston, had defeated Gates and DeKalb at Camden, driven Marion to the swamps of Pedee, scattered the forces of Sumter, and established his head-quarters in the Waxhaw’s on the borders of North Carolina, while Tarleton had his on the Hanging Rock Creek, about thirty miles north of Camden. Davie alone was left with a small force on the west bank of the Catawba, making occasional sorties to harass the outposts of the British.

The Scotch-Irish and Huguenots of South Carolina were mostly Whigs, or rebels. The English colonists were divided; the majority were Whigs; but there were a goodly number of loyal men among them who conscientiously espoused the cause of the mother country, and were called Tories.
   

Lancaster County was one of the strong holds of the Whigs. The McElwains, Truesdales, Douglases, Cunninghams, Twitbys, McDonalds, McMullens, Mackeys, and others of Scotch-Irish origin occupied and held the southern portion of Lancaster, and Charles Mackey was their acknowledged leader; while the Crawford’s, Dunlaps. Jacksons (General Jackson was then sixteen years old), Whites, Masseys, Dobys, Curetons, and others of the same stock held the Waxhaws, in the northern section of the county. The Whigs had always made Lancaster too hot for the Tories, and had ruthlessly driven them out of the county to seek companionship and sympathy wherever they might find it. But the advent of the British turned the tide of war completely, and now the Tories, with Tarleton’s aid, drove the Whigs from Lancaster, some across the Catawba to join Davie, and some to the Pedee to join Marion.
    

Charles Mackey, as the leader of his band, had made himself very obnoxious to the Tories, and they impatiently waited a time of vengeance.
 He was a man of medium size, very active and energetic, a fine horseman, a splendid shot, hot headed, impulsive, often running unnecessary risks, and doing dare-devil deeds. No work was too hazardous for him.
    

Lydia Mackey, his wife, was a woman of good common sense, with clear head and fine judgment, and in coolness and self-possession far superior to her impetuous husband. They had a young family of two or three children, and Charles Mackey had not seen or heard from them for several weeks. Their home was not more than two and a half miles from Tarleton’s camp on the Hanging Rock Creek. He knew very well that it would be hazardous for him to return to his home so near to Tarleton’s head quarters, but his anxiety became so intense on account of his wife’s peculiar condition that he could no longer remain in doubt about it. So he cautiously made his way home, where he unwisely loitered for a week, and during this time he had the temerity to enter Tarleton’s lines more than once in search of information which would be valuable to his country’s defenders.
    

Charles Mackey’s house was a double log cabin, with cultivated patches of corn and potatoes on either side of a lane leading to the front, while at the rear was a kitchen-garden of half an acre or more, extending back to a large Hickleberry Swamp, which was almost impenetrable to man or beast. This swamp covered an area of ten or fifteen acres, and was surrounded by a quagmire from ten to thirty feet wide, thus making it practically an island. It was entered by jumping from tussock to tussock of moss-covered clumps of mould a foot or two in diameter, and rising six or eight inches above the pitch-black semi-jelly-like mire, which shook in every direction in passing over it. A plank or fence-rail served as a temporary draw ridge, which was pulled into the swamp after crossing over.
    

When Tories infested the county, Charles Mackey spent his days in the swamp, if not out scouting. At night he ventured home. He had good watchdogs, and they gave the alarm when any one approached, whether by night or day. If at night, he would immediately lift a loose plank in the floor of his bedroom, drop through on the ground, crawl out in the rear, then run thirty or forty yards across the garden, gun in hand, and disappear in the swamp, pulling his fence-rail draw-bridge after him. There was no approach to the house in the rear, and his retreat was always affected with impunity.
    

Charles Mackey had been at home now about a week, and was on the eve of leaving with some valuable information for the rebel generals, gained by his night prowling in and about the head quarters of Colonel Tarleton. But early in a June morning (an hour or two before day) his usually faithful watch-dogs failed to give warning of the approach of strangers, and the first notice of their presence was their shouting 'hello' in front of the house.
 Mrs. Mackey jumped out of bed, threw open the window-shutter, stuck out her head, surveyed the half dozen armed horsemen carefully, and said, "Who’s there?"
    

"Friends. Is Charley Mackey at home?"
    

She promptly answered, "No."
    

In the mean time Charley had raised the loose plank in the floor, and was ready to make for the swamp in the rear, when, stopping for a moment to be sure of the character of his visitors, he heard the spokesman say: "Well, we are very sorry indeed, for there was a big fight yesterday on Lynch’s Creek between General Marion and the British, and we routed the redcoats completely; and we have been sent to General Davie at Landsford with orders to unite with Marion at Flat Rock as soon as possible, and then to attack Tarleton. We don’t know the way to Landsford, and came by for Charley to join us."
    

Mrs. Mackey was always cool and collected, and she said she was very sorry her husband was not at home. But her husband was just the reverse-hot-headed and impetuous. This sudden news of victory, after so many reverses, was so in accordance with his wishes that he madly rushed out into the midst of the mounted men, hurrahing for Marion and Davie, and shouting vengeance on the redcoats and Tories; and he began to shake hands enthusiastically with the boys, and to ask particulars about the fight, when the ring-leader of the gang coolly said: "Well, Charley, old fellow, we’ve set a good many traps for you, but never baited them right till now. You are our prisoner. And they marched him off, just as he was, without hat or coat, and without allowing him a moment to say a parting word to his poor wife."


It was now nearly daylight, and they ordered him to pilot them to Andy McElwain’s, with the hope of capturing him too. But he was not at home. Then he was compelled to pilot them to James Truesdale’s, and he was not at home. From there they went to Lancaster village, and then to Colonel Tarleton’s headquarters, where Charley Mackey was tried by court-martial, and sentenced to death as a spy.
    

The next day Mrs. Mackey, not knowing what had happened, gathered some fruit and eggs, and, with a basket well filled, she made her way to Colonel Tarleton’s camp. Hucksters were readily ad- mitted when they had such luxuries to dispose of.
    

On getting within the lines she inquired the way to Colonel Tarleton’s marquee, which was shown to her. The colonel was on parade, but a young officer, who was writing, asked her to be seated. After he had finished, he said, "You have something for sale, I presume."
    

She replied that she had eggs and fruit. He gladly took what she had and paid for them. She frankly declared that her basket of fruit was only a pretext to get to Colonel Tarleton; that she was anxious to see him in person on business of great importance. She then explained to him the capture of her husband, and that she wished to get him released if he were still alive, for she did not know but what they had hung him up to the first tree they came to. The officer told her that the colonel was on parade, and would not return for two hours, not until he came in for his mid-day meal. Mrs. Mackey was a woman of superior intelligence, and she soon interested the young officer in her sad condition. He expressed for her the deepest sympathy; told her that her husband was near by under guard; that he had been tried and sentenced to death as a spy; that he was to be hung at sunrise to-morrow morning; and that he feared there was no hope of reprieve, as the evidence given against him by Tories was of the most positive kind. He told her that Colonel Tarleton was as cruel and unfeeling as he was brave, and that he would promise her anything to get rid of her, but would fulfill nothing.
    

"However," said he, "I will prepare the necessary document for your husban4s release, filling in the blanks, so that it will only be necessary to get Colonel Tarleton's signature. But I must again frankly say that this is almost hopeless."
 It was evident to the most superficial observer that Mrs. Mackey would soon become a mother, and this probably had something to do in enlisting the kindly sympathy of the brave young officer. At twelve & clock Colonel Tarleton rode up, dismounted, and entered the adjoining tent. As he passed along, the young officer said: "You must wait till he dines. Another charger will then be brought forth, and when he comes out to mount you can approach him, and not till then."
    

At the expected time the tall, boyish-looking, clean-shaved, handsome young Tarleton came out of his tent, and as he neared his charger he was confronted by the heroic Lydia Mackey, who in a few words made known the object of her visit. He quickly answered that he was in a great hurry, and could not at that time stop to consider her case. She said the case was urgent; that her husband had been condemned to die at sunrise to-morrow morning, and that he alone had the power to save his life. He replied:    "Very well, my good woman, when I return later in the day I will inquire into the matter." Saying this he placed his foot in the stirrup, and sprang up, but before he could throw his right leg over the saddle, Mrs. Mackey caught him by the coat and jerked him down. He turned upon her with a scowl, and she implored him to grant her request.
    

He was greatly discomfited, and angrily said he would inquire into the case on his return. He then attempted again to mount, when she dragged him down a second time, begging him in eloquent terms to spare the life of her husband. "Hut tut, my good woman!" said he, boiling with rage. "Do you know what you are doing? Begone! I'll attend to this at my convenience; not sooner."
    

So saying, he tried a third time to mount, and a third time Lydia Mackey jerked him to the ground. Holding by the swords scabbard and falling on her knees, she cried, "Draw your sword and slay me and my unborn babe, or give me the life of my husband, for I shall never let you go till you kill me or sign this document", which she drew from her bosom, and held up before his face.
    

Tarleton trembled, was as pale as a corpse, and turning to the young officer, who stood near by, intently watching the scene, he said, "Captain, where is this woman’s husband?" He answered, "Under guard in yonder tent."
    

Order him to be brought here. And soon Charles Mackey stood before the valiant Tarleton. "Sir, said he, you have been convicted of bearing arms against his Majesty’s government. Worse, you have been convicted of being a spy; you have dared to enter my lines in disguise as a spy, and you cannot deny it. But, for the sake of your wife, I will give you a full pardon on condition that you will take an oath never again to bear arms against the Kings government."
    

"Sir," said Charles Mackey, in the firmest tones, "I can not accept pardon on those terms. It must be unconditional, or I must die."
    

And poor Lydia Mackey cried out, "And I too must die"; and on her knees, holding on to Colonel Tarleton, she pleaded with such fervor and eloquence that Tarleton seemed for a moment to hesitate, and then, turning to the young captain, lie said, with quivering lips, and in a voice choked with emotion, "Captain, for Gods sake, sign my name to this paper, and let this woman go." With this, Lydia Mackey sank to the ground exhausted, and Colonel Tarleton mounted his charger and galloped off, doubtless happier for having spared the life of the heroic Lydia Mackey’s husband. Lydia Mackey in her old age was a fine talker, and when I was a boy ten years old I heard her tell this story with such feeling and earnestness that great tears rolled down her aged cheeks to mingle with those of her little grandchildren gathered around her knees.
    

The name of Tarleton was execrated in South Carolina till a very late period. But the Lydia Mackey episode shows that he had a heart not wholly steeled against the nobler feelings of humanity.
    

The history of our Revolutionary war can hardly present a more interesting tableau than that of Lydia Mackey begging the life of her husband at the hands of the brave and bloody Tarleton. It is altogether probable that the Lydia Mackey victory was the first ever gained over this redoubtable commander.

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