In March, 1776, I was sent over with my company, to Sullivan's island,
to prevent the landing of the British from the men-of-war,
the Cherokee and Tamar, then lying in Rebellion road. I had not been long
on that station, before Col. Moultrie came over with his whole regiment
to erect a fort on the island.

The truth is, the governor had of late become confoundedly afraid of a visit
from the British. The great wealth in Charleston must, he thought,
by this time, have set their honest fingers to itching --
and we also suspected that they could hardly be ignorant
what a number of poor deluded gentlemen, called tories, we had among us.

The arrival of colonel Moultrie, with the second regiment, afforded me
infinite satisfaction. It brought me once more to act in concert with Marion.
'Tis true, he had got one grade above me in the line of preferment;
but, thank God, I never minded that. I loved Marion, and "love,"
as every body knows, "envieth not." We met like brothers.
I read in his looks the smiling evidence of his love towards me:
and I felt the strongest wish to perpetuate his partiality.
Friendship was gay within my heart, and thenceforth all nature WITHOUT
put on her loveliest aspects. The island of sand no longer seemed
a dreary waste. Brighter rolled the blue waves of ocean beneath
the golden beam; and sweeter murmured the billows on their sandy beach.
My heart rejoiced with the playful fishes, as they leaped high
wantoning in the air, or, with sudden flounce, returned again,
wild darting through their lucid element. Our work went on in joy.
The palmetto trees were brought to us by the blacks, in large rafts,
of which we constructed, for our fort, an immense pen, two hundred feet long,
and sixteen feet wide, filled with sand to stop the shot.
For our platforms, we had two-inch oak planks, nailed down with iron spikes.