Marion moves secretly to Pon-Pon--Rescues Col. Harden--
Defeats Major Frazier at Parker's Ferry--Joins the main
Army under Greene--Battle of Eutaw.
After the battle of Quinby the joint forces of Sumter and Marion were
separated. The former retired up the Congaree; the latter took charge of
the country on the Santee; while Greene placed himself in a camp of
rest at the High Hills in the district which has since taken the name
of Sumter. His troops were in a wretched state of incapacity, in
consequence of sickness. The region to which he retired was famous for
its salubrity, and the intense heat of the season effectually forbade
much military activity. The opposing generals were content to watch
each other. It was while he held this position that Col. Hayne, of the
militia, was executed as a traitor by the British. The case of this
gentleman was that of many in the State. He had taken parole at a time
when the country was overrun by the enemy. This parole was subsequently
withdrawn by the conquerors, when they supposed the people to have been
subdued, and desired their services as militia. But the British were in
turn driven from the field. The Americans acquired the ascendant.
The section of the country in which Hayne resided was overrun by a
detachment of Marion, under Col. Harden, and Hayne availed himself
of the occasion to take up arms for his country. He was a popular
gentleman, and soon gathered a strong party of militia. His career
was distinguished by some small successes, and, with a party of Col.
Harden's horse, by a sudden dash in the vicinity of Charleston, he
succeeded in taking prisoner General Williamson, formerly of the
Americans, whose life was forfeited to the country. The capture of
Williamson put all the available cavalry of the British into activity,
and by an unfortunate indiscretion, Hayne suffered himself to be
overtaken. His execution soon followed his capture. This was a
proceeding equally barbarous and unjustifiable--neither sanctioned
by policy nor propriety. It took place after a brief examination, and
without any trial. The proceeding was equally unauthorized by civil and
martial law. It was not long before this, as the reader will remember,
that Marion, in consequence of the execution of some of his men by the
British, had threatened them with retaliation. Greene, who knew the
decisive character of Marion, and was apprehensive that this wanton
crime would render him as prompt as he was fearless, in avenging it,
thus writes to prevent him: "Do not take any measures in the matter
towards retaliation, for I do not intend to retaliate upon the TORY
officers, but the BRITISH. It is my intention to demand the reasons of
the Colonel's being put to death; and if they are unsatisfactory, as
I am sure they will be, and if they refuse to make satisfaction, as
I expect they will, to publish my intention of giving no quarter to
British officers, of any rank, that fall into our hands. Should we
attempt to retaliate upon their militia officers, I am sure they would
persevere in the measure, in order to increase the animosity between the
Whigs and Tories, that they might stand idle spectators, and see them
butcher each other. As I do not wish my intentions known to the enemy
but through an official channel, and as this WILL BE DELAYED FOR SOME
FEW DAYS TO GIVE OUR FRIENDS IN ST. AUGUSTINE TIME TO GET OFF, I wish
you not to mention the matter to any mortal out of your family."
Weems represents Marion as being greatly averse to this measure of
retaliation, and as having censured those officers of the regular army
who demanded of Greene the adoption of this remedy. But the biographer
wrote rather from his own benevolent nature than from the record. Marion
had no scruples about the necessity of such a measure in particular
cases; and, however much he might wish to avoid its execution, he was
yet fully prepared to adopt it whenever the policy of the proceeding
was unquestionable. Fortunately, the decisive resolutions which were
expressed by the Americans, their increasing successes, the fact that
they had several British officers of reputation in their hands,--all
conspired to produce, in the minds of the enemy, a greater regard to
the rights of justice and humanity. As retaliation in such cases is
justifiable only as a preventive and remedial measure, it now ceased
to be necessary; and, with proper views of the affair, the resolves of
Greene and Marion were suffered to remain unexpunged, in proof of their
indignation, rather than their purpose. But a few days had elapsed
after the execution of Hayne when a party of Marion's men, under Captain
Ervine, fell in with and captured a favorite British officer, Captain
Campbell, with two subalterns, in charge of a convoying detachment. They
were at once committed to the provost guard, and soon communicated their
apprehensions to Charleston. A meeting of British officers was held, and
their dissatisfaction at this new feature, introduced into the warfare
of the country, was expressed in such terms, as contributed, along
with the prompt proceedings of the Americans, to bring Balfour, the
commandant of Charleston, under whose authority the execution of Hayne
had taken place, to a better sense of mercy and prudence. We shall have
no farther occasion to refer to these proceedings. It is enough that the
threat of retaliation, followed up by such decided movements as left no
doubt of the resolution of the Americans, produced all the beneficial
effects which could have accrued from its execution.
The incursion of Sumter and Marion into the low country, drew Lord
Rawdon from Orangeburg, with five hundred men, to Charleston, from which
place, after lingering just long enough to witness the death of Hayne,
he sailed for New York. He left Lieut.-Col. Stewart in command at
Orangeburg. From this post, Stewart moved to McCord's ferry, on the
Congaree, on the south side of which he took post, amidst the hills near
the confluence of the Wateree and Congaree. Greene's camp lay directly
opposite, and the fires of the mutual armies were distinctly seen by
each other. The heat of the weather suspended all regular military
operations. Two large rivers intervening secured each from sudden
attack, and their toils were confined to operating in small detachments,
for foraging or convoy. In this service, on the American side,
Col. Washington was detached--as soon as the course of Stewart was
ascertained--down the country across the Santee; Lee was sent upward,
along the north bank of the Congaree; the latter to operate with Col.
Henderson, then in command of Sumter's brigade, at Fridig's ferry,
and the former to strike at the communication between the enemy and
Charleston, and to cooperate with Marion and Mayham, in covering the
lower Santee. Col. Harden, at the same time, with a body of mounted
militia, had it in charge to straiten the enemy upon the Edisto.
The activity of these several parties and their frequent successes, were
such that Stewart was compelled to look for his supplies to the country
below him. This necessity caused him to re-establish and strengthen the
post at Dorchester, in order to cover the communication by Orangeburg;
and to place a force at Fairlawn, near the head of the navigation of
Cooper river, from which supplies from Charleston were transported to
headquarters over land. As this route was watched by Marion, Washington
and Mayham, the British commander was compelled, in order to secure the
means of communication with the opposite bank of the Congaree and to
draw supplies from thence, to transport boats adapted to the purpose, on
wagon-wheels, from Fairlawn to the Congaree.
Such were the relative positions of the two armies until the 22d of
August, when Greene, calling in all his detachments except those under
Marion, Mayham and Harden, broke up his camp at the High Hills and
proceeded to Howell's ferry, on the Congaree, with the intention
immediately to cross it and advance upon Stewart. That officer,
on hearing of the movement of the Americans, fell back upon his
reinforcements and convoys, and took up a strong position at the Eutaw
Springs.
Meanwhile, Marion disappeared from the Santee on one of those secret
expeditions in which his wonderful celerity and adroit management
conducted his men so frequently to success. His present aim was the
Pon-Pon. Col. Harden was at this time in that quarter, and closely
pressed by a superior British force of five hundred men. Detaching a
party of mounted militia to the neighborhood of Dorchester and Monk's
Corner, as much to divert the enemy from his own movements as with any
other object, he proceeded with two hundred picked men on his secret
expedition.
By a forced march, he crossed the country from St. Stephen's to the
Edisto--passing through both lines of the enemy's communication with
Charleston, and reached Harden--a distance of one hundred miles--in
season for his relief. His approach and arrival were totally unsuspected
by the enemy, for whom he prepared an ambush in a swamp near Parker's
ferry. A small body of his swiftest horse were sent out to decoy the
British into the snare. A white feather, rather too conspicuously worn
by one of his men in ambush, had nearly defeated his design. Some Tories
passing, discovered this unnecessary plumage, and one of them fired upon
the wearer. This led to an exchange of shots; but Major Frazier, by whom
the British were commanded, assuming the party thus concealed to be that
of Harden, whom it was his aim to find, pursued the horsemen whom Marion
had sent out to entice him to the ambuscade. His cavalry was led at full
charge within forty yards of the concealed riflemen. A deadly fire was
poured in, under which the British recoiled; attempting to wheel and
charge the swamp, they received a second; and, closely wedged as their
men were upon the narrow causeway over which they came, every shot bore
its warrant. There was no retreating, no penetrating the ambush, and the
British cavalry had but to go forward, along the road to the ferry, thus
passing the entire line of the ambuscade. The corps was most effectually
thinned by the time it got beyond rifle reach; and still more fatal
would have been the affray to the advancing infantry of Frazier--a large
body, with a field-piece--but for one of those lamentable deficiencies
of materiel, which so frequently plucked complete success from the grasp
of the Americans. The ammunition of our partisan failed him, and he was
compelled to yield the ground to the enemy, who was otherwise wholly in
his power. The British loss was unknown. Twenty-seven dead horses were
counted on the field the day after; the men had all been buried. As
Marion's men fired with either a ball or heavy buck-shot, and as none
would aim at horses, the loss of the British must have been very great.
Nine days after, at the battle of Eutaw, they had few cavalry in the
field.
But, though the victory was incomplete, Marion had attained his object.
He had rescued Harden, without loss to himself. He had traversed more
than two hundred miles of country, through a region held by the enemy;
returned by the same route,--delivered his prisoners to the care of
Mayham,--returned twenty miles below the Eutaw, in order to watch the
communication between that place and Fairlawn--then, at the call of
Greene, made a circuit and passed the British army, so as to reach
a position on the south side of the Santee, in the track of Greene's
advance; and all this in the brief compass of six days. Yet, of these
movements, which merited and received the particular thanks of Congress,
we are without any data in our records. The complimentary resolution of
Congress fixes the battle at Parker's ferry on the 31st August.
Seventeen miles from Eutaw Springs, at Lauren's plantation, Marion
effected a junction with the commander-in-chief. Greene was pressing
forward to a meeting with Stewart. Of this object the latter seemed to
have been profoundly ignorant up to this moment. But the day before,
he knew that Marion was twenty miles below him, and did not conjecture
that, by marching the whole night, he had thrown himself above him to
join with Greene. Without this junction he had no apprehension that the
latter, with an inferior force, would venture an attack upon him, in the
strong position which he held. On the afternoon of the 7th September,
the army reached Burdell's tavern on the Congaree road, seven miles from
the Eutaws. The force under Greene amounted to two thousand men, all
told. That under General Stewart was probably about the same. It is
estimated to have been two thousand three hundred. These were all
disciplined troops, and a large proportion of the old regiments
consisted of native marksmen from the ranks of the loyalists. In
cavalry, Greene had the advantage, but a great portion of his men were
militia. In artillery the two armies were equal. The British had five
and the Americans four pieces.
The memorable battle of the Eutaw Springs was fought on the 8th
September. At four o'clock in the morning the Americans moved from their
bivouac down to the attack. The day was fair, but intensely hot; but the
combatants at the commencement of the battle were relieved by the shade
of the woods. The South Carolina State troops and Lee's legion formed
the advance under Colonel Henderson. The militia, both of South and
North Carolina, moved next, under Marion. Then followed the regulars
under Gen. Sumner; and the rear was closed by Washington's cavalry, and
Kirkwood's Delawares, under Col. Washington. The artillery moved between
the columns. The troops were thus arranged in reference to their order
of battle.
Of the approach of the Americans Stewart was wholly ignorant on the
evening of the 7th. The only patrol which had been sent up the Congaree
road had been captured during the night, and Stewart himself says, in
excuse, that "the Americans had waylaid the swamps and passes in such a
manner as to cut off every avenue of intelligence." So entirely secure
had he felt himself in his position, which was a strong one, that he had
sent out an unarmed party of one hundred men, in the very direction of
Greene's advance, to gather sweet potatoes. This party, called a rooting
party, after advancing about three miles, had pursued a road to the
right, which led to the river plantations. Advised, by two deserters
from the North Carolina militia, of Greene's approach, Stewart
dispatched Captain Coffin, with his cavalry, to recall the rooting
party, and to reconnoitre the Americans. Before Coffin could effect
either object, he encountered the American advance, and, in total
ignorance of its strength, charged it with a degree of confidence, which
led Greene to imagine that Stewart with his whole army was at hand.
Coffin was easily repulsed; the rooting party, alarmed by the firing,
hurried from the woods, and were all made prisoners. Meanwhile, Stewart,
now thoroughly aware of the proximity of his enemy, pushed forward a
detachment of infantry, a mile distant from the Eutaw, with orders
to engage and detain the American troops while he formed his men
and prepared for battle. But Greene, whom the audacity of Coffin had
deceived, halted his columns where they stood, and proceeded to display
them. The column of militia formed the first line; the South Carolina
militia in equal divisions on the right and left, and the North
Carolinians in the centre. General Marion commanded the right, General
Pickens the left, and Col. Malmedy the centre. Col. Henderson, with the
State troops, including Sumter's brigade, covered the left of this line,
and Col. Lee, with his legion, the right. The column of regulars
also displayed in one line. The North Carolinians, under Gen. Sumner,
occupied the right; the Marylanders, under Col. Williams, the left; the
Virginians, under Col. Campbell, the centre. Two pieces of artillery
were assigned to each line. Col. Washington moved in column in the rear,
keeping himself in reserve. In this order, the troops pressed forward
slowly, as the country on both sides of the road was in wood, and
prevented much expedition. Moving thus, the first line encountered the
advance parties of Stewart, and drove them before it, until the entire
line of the British army, displayed in order of battle, received, and
gave shelter to, the fugitives.
The troops of Stewart were drawn up in one line at about two hundred
yards west of the Eutaw Springs; the Buffs on the right, Cruger's corps
in the centre, and the 63d and 64th on the left. Major Marjoribanks,
with three hundred of his best troops, was strongly posted, so as to
flank the Buffs, under shelter of a thick wood on the Eutaw Creek,
which covered the right of the whole line; the left was, in military
'parlance', 'in air'--resting in the wood, and supported by Coffin's
cavalry--reduced to a very small number--and a respectable detachment of
infantry. His ground was altogether in wood, but, at a small distance,
in the rear of his line, was an open field, on the edge of which stood
a strong brick dwelling, with offices, out-houses, and a palisadoed
garden, in all of which a stout resistance might be made. On this brick
house, Stewart had already cast his eyes, as the means of saving his
army in any 'dernier' necessity. The house was of two stories, and
abundantly strong to resist small arms. Its windows commanded all the
open space around. Major Sheridan was ordered to throw himself into it,
with his command, in case of an unfavorable issue to the fight; and in
this position to overawe the Americans, and cover the army. Feeble in
cavalry, in which the Americans were strong, there was no other means
for retreat and support in the event of a capital misfortune.
The American approach was from the west. The first line, consisting
wholly of militia, went into action, and continued in it with a coolness
and stubbornness which, says Greene, "would have graced the veterans of
the great king of Prussia." Such conduct was almost invariable on
their part, wherever Marion or Pickens commanded. Steadily and without
faltering, they advanced into the hottest of the enemy's fire, with
shouts and exhortations, which were not lessened by the continual fall
of their comrades around them. Their line was all the while receiving
the fire of double their number--they were opposed to the entire line of
the British. The carnage was severe, and very equal on both sides. The
two pieces of artillery were at length disabled, and after exchanging
seventeen rounds with the enemy, the militia began to falter. Gen.
Sumner was ordered up to their support, with the North Carolina
Continentals. With the advance of Sumner, Stewart brought into line on
his left, the infantry of his reserve, and the battle, between fresh
troops on both sides, raged with renewed fury. From the commencement
of the action, the infantry of the American covering parties, right and
left, had been steadily engaged. The State troops, under Henderson, had
suffered greatly. The American left, which they flanked, falling far
short of the British right in length, they were exposed to the oblique
fire of a large proportion of the British left, and particularly of the
battalion commanded by Marjoribanks. Henderson himself was disabled,
and his men, denied to charge the enemy under whose fire they were
suffering--for they were necessary to the safety of the artillery and
militia--were subjected to a trial of their constancy, which very few
soldiers, whatever may have been their training, would have borne so
well.
Meanwhile, the brigade of Sumner recoiled from the fire of the greater
numbers opposed to them in front. At this sight, the exultation of the
British Left hurried them forward, assured of certain victory. Their
line became deranged, and the American general, promptly availing
himself of the opportunity, issued his command to Col. Williams, who
had in charge the remaining portion of his second line, to "advance, and
sweep the field with his bayonets." The two battalions obeyed the order
with a shout. The Virginians, when within forty yards of the enemy,
poured in a destructive fire, and the whole second line with trailed
arms pressed on to the charge. The advanced left of the British
recoiled, and, just at this juncture, the legion infantry delivered
an enfilading fire, which threw them into irretrievable disorder. The
British centre, pressed upon by the fugitives, began to give way from
left to right, and the fire of the Marylanders, poured in at the proper
moment, completed their disaster. Their whole front yielded, and the
shouts of the Americans declared their exultation, as at a victory
already won. Unquestionably, the day was theirs. The enemy had fled from
the battle. But a new one was to begin, in which victory, at present so
secure, was taken from their grasp. In the effort to prevent the enemy
from rallying, and to cut him off from the brick dwelling, into which
Sheridan, obeying the commands of Stewart, had thrown himself as soon
as the necessity became apparent, the greatest loss of the Americans
was sustained. Marjoribanks still held his ground, with his entire
battalion, in the thick woods which skirted Eutaw Creek, and so well
covered was he that, in an attempt to penetrate with his cavalry, Col.
Washington became entangled in the thicket, and fell into the hands
of the enemy, while his men suffered severely from their fire, and his
troop was routed. A second time were they brought to the charge, but
with no better success than before. Marjoribanks still maintained his
position, watching the moment when to emerge from the thicket with the
best prospect of safety to himself, and hurt to the Americans. He was
soon to have an opportunity.
The British line had yielded and broken before the American bayonet. The
latter pressed closely upon their heels, made many prisoners, and
might have cut them off, and, by isolating Marjoribanks, forced him
to surrender, but for one of those occurrences which so frequently in
battle change the fortunes of the day. The course of the fugitives led
them directly through the British encampment. There everything was given
up for lost. The tents were all standing, the commissaries had abandoned
their stores, and the numerous retainers of the army were already in
full flight for Charleston. When the pursuing Americans penetrated the
encampment, they lost sight of the fugitives in the contemplation of
various objects of temptation which, to a half-naked and half-starved
soldiery, were irresistible. The pursuit was forborne; the Americans
fastened upon the liquors and refreshments scattered among the tents;
and the whole army, with the exception of one or two corps, then fell
into confusion. Yet, so closely had the British been pursued to the
shelter of the house, and so narrow was their escape, that some of
the Americans had nearly obtained entrance with them. It was only by
shutting the door against some of their own officers, that they made it
secure against the enemy; and in retiring from the house, now a citadel,
the Americans only found safety by interposing the bodies of the
officers, thus made captive at the entrance, between themselves and the
fire from the windows. One ludicrous incident is told of Major Barry,
who was taken in this manner, and made use of as a shield by Lieut.
Manning, as he retreated from before the house, which otherwise he could
not have left in safety. Without struggling or making the slightest
effort for his extrication, Barry only enumerated his own titles with a
profound solemnity. "Sir, I am Henry Barry, Deputy Adjutant General of
the British army, Secretary to the Commandant of Charleston, Captain in
the 52d regiment," &c. "Enough, enough, sir," answered Manning. "You are
just the man I was looking for. Fear nothing: you shall SCREEN ME from
danger, and I shall take special care of you." Manning escaped in
safety with his prisoner. But there were many brave officers far less
fortunate. Many were destined to perish in the miserable after struggle,
who had gone gloriously through the greater dangers of the fight. The
British tents had done what the British arms had failed to do. Victory
was lost to the Americans. Scattered throughout the encampment,
the soldiers became utterly unmanageable. The enemy, meanwhile, had
partially recovered from their panic. The party of Sheridan were in
possession of the house. Another party held possession of the palisaded
garden. Coffin was active with his remnant of cavalry, and Marjoribanks
still held a formidable position in the thicket on Eutaw Creek. From
the upper windows of the house, the musketry of Sheridan traversed the
encampment, which the Americans now trembled to leave, lest they should
suffer from their fire. Every head that emerged from a tent was a mark
for their bullets. Aware, by this time, of the extent of his misfortune,
Greene ordered a retreat, which Hampton's cavalry was commanded to
cover. In the execution of this duty Hampton encountered the British
cavalry. A sharp action ensued; the latter fled, and in the ardor
of pursuit, the American horse approached so near to the position of
Marjoribanks as to receive a murderous fire, which prostrated one-third
of their number and scattered the rest. Before they could again be
brought together, Marjoribanks, seizing upon the chance afforded by
a temporary clearing of the field, emerged from the wood, at a moment
which enabled him to put a successful finish to the labors of the day.
Two six-pounders, which had been abandoned by the British, had been
turned upon the house by the Americans; but in their eagerness they
had brought the pieces within the range of fire from the windows of the
house. The artillerists had been shot down; and, in the absence of the
American cavalry, Marjoribanks was enabled to recover them. Wheeling
them under the walls of the house, he took a contiguous position,
his own being almost the only portion of the British army still in a
condition to renew the action. The Americans yielded the ground about
the house, but were promptly rallied in the skirts of the wood. The
British were too much crippled to pursue; and the respite was gladly
seized upon by the Americans to plunge headlong into the neighboring
ponds, to cool the heat and satisfy the intense thirst occasioned by
such efforts under the burning sun of a Carolina September. Both sides
claimed the victory, and with equal reason. In the first part of the day
it was clearly with the Americans. They had driven the enemy from the
field, in panic and with great loss. They were in possession of five
hundred prisoners, nearly all of whom they retained. They had taken two
out of the five pieces of artillery which the British had brought into
the action; and, something more to boast, considering the proverbial
renown of the British with this weapon, it was at the point of the
bayonet that they had swept the enemy from the ground. The British took
shelter in a fortress from which the Americans were repulsed. It is
of no consequence to assert that the latter might have taken it. They
might--it was in their power to have done so,--but they did not; and the
promptitude with which the British availed themselves of this security,
entitles them to the merit which they claim. We are constrained to think
that the business of the field was strangely blundered by the Americans
at the sequel. This may have arisen from the carnage made at this period
among their officers, particularly in their persevering, but futile
endeavors, to extricate the soldiers from their tents. Under cover of
a contiguous barn, the artillery presented the means of forcing the
building and reducing the garrison to submission. The attempts made at
this object, by this arm of the Americans, were rash, badly counselled,
and exposed to danger without adequate protection. The British were
saved by this error, by the luxuries contained within their tents,
by the spirited behavior of Coffin, and the cool and steady valor of
Marjoribanks.