Her dearest treasure lost through the dim night,
Wanders perplex’d and darkling bleats in vain.In his own self-mocking narrative Longstreet, as ‘‘Hall,’’ is inexperienced
and hapless, riding a geriatric steed unable to jump a fallen log. It is Decem-
ber, freezing, and Hall is underdressed as well as underhorsed. The fox,
barely glimpsed, proves wilier than the experienced militia officers who
own the packs of hounds: the smartest of the hunters deduces that the prey
left the ground and walked a fencetop for yards, outsmarting the smart-
est of the dogs, too. Some hunts will fail, after all, and their narratives must
allow for humor. Elliott was witty on the subject of his own and brother-
sportsmen’s bad luck and failures, too. Still, the fox’s wiliness, as vampire to
precious lambs as well as evader of noble dogs, necessitated more hunts.^11
Other explicit justifications were charity to sportsmen’s lessers and gifts
to one’s more-or-less equals, especially female. On the subject of drum fish-
ing, for instance, William Elliott observed that Port Royal ‘‘planters...suc-
ceeded in taking, during the last season, at least twelve thousand of these
fish; and...except the small number consumed in their families, the re-
mainder were salted and distributed among their slaves, not in lieu of, but
in addition to their ordinary subsistence, [so] you will perceive that this is
a case wherein the love of sport, and the practice of charity, are singularly
coincident’’ (). Elsewhere he justified killing more than a family might
consume as opportunity to initiate or reciprocate kindnesses among neigh-
bors, especially the infirmed and widows. Ultimately, however, but never
quite explicitly admitted inCarolina Sports, elite hunting and fishing ritu-
als and stories demonstrated power and mastery. For these one reads espe-
cially the conclusions of narratives of expeditions that were not only thrill-
ing but successful.
Elliott’s rather tense recounting of a devil-fishing expedition in July
is, for example, fascinating in detail and amazing—sixty-odd pages after
his thrilling account of his grandfather and the African hero, May. Four
crowded vessels set out to harpoon mantas. William’s son, Tom, command-
ing one boat, was the first to overtake and strike a prey. Immediately,
the ‘‘fish made a demi-vault in the air,’’ William wrote, ‘‘and, in his de-
scent, struck the boat violently with one of his wings.’’ The blow sent the
vessel suddenly backward, tossing the steersman and oarsmen forward—
and Tom into the air and onto the back of the resurfaced manta. There Tom
remained for a few endless seconds, then he leaped off, swimming toward
relative safety in the boat. William’s ‘‘henchman, Dick’’ was alert and tossed