Francis and the Whale

Parson Weems writes, "I have it from good authority, that this great soldier, at his birth, was not larger than a New England lobster, and might easily enough have been put into a quart pot."  I think we've established that Weems took a lot of liberties in his fantasty novel about the life of General Francis Marion.  Let's interpret this statement from its fable, and try not to imagine a newborn child being cooked for lunch. 

Francis was born to a 37 year old woman who'd been giving birth since age 16.  The baby was probably very small and sickly, and was coddled by the family until he overcame his ailments, his weak and crooked legs and tendency to be sick, at puberty.  He told his mother, who begged and pleaded with him, just as George Washington's mother had done up in Virginia, that he longed to be sailor.  Young Francis went to work on a ship bound for the West Indies around 1747.  Simms describes the scene in his biography of Marion:

"The waters of the Gulf of Mexico, in particular, were covered with pirates. The rich produce of New Spain, the West Indies, and the Southern Colonies of the English, were rare temptations. The privateers of Spain and France, a sort of legalized pirates, hung about the ports of Carolina, frequently subjecting them to a condition of blockade, and sometimes to forced contributions."

Infamous pirates Blackbeard and Charles Drake terrorized the Carolina coastline, when they weren't fighting on the open sea or stirring up mischief in the Carribean.  I think Johnny Depp was trying for a Blackbeard look, but it may have been a challenge to have smoke coming out of his dreadlocks. 
The British had special war ships in place to defend the coastline and thwart the attacks on merchant vessels, such as the one carrying young Francis.  Sometimes civil "cruisers" were retro-fitted with ammo to fight the pirates as well.  Francis's one and only voyage was made upon an armed vessel.
The journey was fraught with danger. 

"She [the ship] foundered at sea, whether going or returning is not said; in consequence, we are told, of injuries received from the stroke of a whale, of the thornback species. So suddenly did she sink, that her
crew, only six in number, had barely time to save themselves. They escaped to the jolly boat, saving nothing but their lives. They took with them neither water nor provisions; and for six days, hopeless of succor, they lay tossing to and fro, upon the bald and cheerless ocean."

Their ship was rammed by a whale, causing the vessel to sink, and the crew lept into a life boat with no provisions.  They were stranded at sea for six days, without drinking water or food, or shelter from the sun.  They ate the ship's dog as their only meal.  Perhaps P.E.T.A. would've suggested cannabalism over the poor dog, but then two of the crew lept into the ocean in absolute madness, and drowned.  How traumatizing!  Another ship discovered and rescued the survivors, nursing the distressed sailors to health.  Was Francis saved by providence, while grown men, stronger than he, perished at sea?  Yes.  He was bound for greater things.  Indeed, he had only begun.

Gabriel Marion, Jr. passed away in 1747, and when Francis returned from the sea he tilled the earth of the family farm and cared for his mother for ten years.  Francis's brothers and sister, except Job, were married with families of their own.  He planted indigo and rice on the Santee canal with his brother Gabriel, until Gabriel had enough money to build Belle Isle plantation, and Francis had enough to create his homestead of Pond Bluff next door.  Francis was not very well educated, and his family did not have much money.  He learned from the land, from the Indians, and made due.  I will speak of his character in the next blog.  I will also speak of the young man he retained from his parents estate, a boy who grew to be a great soldier and fought alongside Francis during the Revolutionary War.  His name was Oscar Marion, and he was loosely portrayed as Occam, played by actor Ray Arlen Jones in The Patriot.