An Orphan of the Revolution
Andrew Jackson was no sooner out of danger, than his courageous mother resolved to go to Charleston, a distance of nearly two hundred miles, and do what she could for the comfort of the prisoners confined on the reeking, disease-infested prison-ships.
Among the many captives on the ships, suffering hunger, sickness, and neglect, were Mrs. Jackson’s own nephews and some of her Waxhaw neighbours. She hoped to obtain their release, as she had that of Andy and Robert.
She arrived at Charleston, and gained admission to the ships. She distributed food and medicines, and brought much comfort and joy to the haggard prisoners.
She had been there but a little time when she was seized by ship-fever. After a short illness she died. She was buried on the open plain, and her grave was lost sight of. Her clothes, a sorry bundle, were sent to her boy at the Waxhaws.
And so Andrew Jackson, before reaching his fifteenth birthday had lost his father, mother, and two brothers. He was an orphan, a sick and sorrowful orphan, a homeless orphan, an orphan of the Revolution.
Many years later on his birthday, on the very same day when he disbanded the Army with which he had won the Battle of New Orleans, he said of his mother:—
“How I wish she could have lived to see this day! There never was a woman like her. She was gentle as a dove and brave as a lioness....
“Her last words have been the law of my life. When the tidings of her death reached me, I at first could not believe it. When I finally realized the truth, I felt utterly alone.... Yes, I was alone. With that feeling, I started to make my own way....
“The memory of my Mother and her teachings, were after all the only capital I had to start in life with, and on that capital I have made my way.”