If among the marauding band of licensed pirates and assassins there was
one name more dreaded, more loathed and accursed than the rest, it was
that of the brutal and ferocious Thorg--the frequent leader of foraging
parties, the unsparing destroyer of womanhood, infancy and age, the
jackal and purveyor of Admiral Cockburn. If anywhere there was a
beautiful woman unprotected, or a rich plantation house ill-defended,
this jackal was sure to scent out "the game" for his master, the lion.
And many were the comely maidens and youthful wives seized and carried
off by this monster.
The Patuxent and the Wicomico, with the coast between them, offered no
strong temptation to a rapacious foe, and the inhabitants reposed in the
fancied security of their isolation and unimportance. The business of
life went on, faintly and sorrowfully, to be sure, but still went on.
The village shops at B---- and C---- were kept open, though tended
chiefly by women and boys. The academicians at the little college
pursued their studies or played at forming juvenile military companies.
The farms and plantations were cultivated chiefly under the direction of
ladies whose husbands, sons and brothers were absent with the army.
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