THE BATTLE OF KING'S MOUNTAIN.
They closed full fast on every side,
No slackness there was found
And many a gallant gentleman
Lay gasping on the ground.
O dread! it was a grief to see,
And likewise for to hear
The cries of men lying in their gore
And scattered here and there.--_Chevy Chase._
Every corps was now in motion, and the two flanking divisions were soon
lost to view in the intervening forest. An incident of some interest to
our story makes it necessary that we should, for a moment, follow the
track of Cleveland in his march upon the left side of the mountain.
The principal road of travel northwards extended along the valley on
this side; and upon this road Cleveland and Williams conducted their
men, until they arrived at a point sufficiently remote to enable them,
by ascending the height, to place themselves in Ferguson's rear. They
had just reached this point when they encountered a picquet of the
enemy, which, after a few shots, retired hastily up the mountain.
The little outpost had scarcely begun to give ground, before the leading
companies of the Whigs had their attention drawn to the movements of a
small party of horsemen who at that moment appeared in sight upon the
road, some distance in advance. They were approaching the American
column; and, as if taken by surprise at the appearance of this force,
set spurs to their horses and made an effort to ride beyond the reach of
Cleveland's fire, whilst they took a direction up the mountain towards
Ferguson's stronghold. From the equipment of these individuals, it might
have been inferred that they were two gentlemen of some distinction
connected with the royal army, attended by their servants, and now about
arriving, after a long journey, at the British camp. The first was
habited in the uniform of an officer, was well mounted, and displayed a
light and active figure, which appeared to advantage in the dexterous
management of his horse. The second was a gentleman in a plain riding
costume, of slender and well-knit proportions, and manifestly older than
his companion. He rode a powerful and spirited horse, with a confidence
and command not inferior to those of his associates. The others in
attendance, from their position in the rear, and from the heavy
portmanteaus that encumbered their saddles, we might have no difficulty
in conjecturing to be menials in the service of the two first.
The course taken by this party brought them obliquely across the range
of the fire of the Whigs.
"It is a general officer and his aide," exclaimed one of the subalterns
in the advance. "Ho there! Stand. You are my prisoners!"
"Spur, spur, and away! For God's sake, fly!" shouted the younger of the
two horsemen to his companion, as he dashed the rowels into his steed
and fled up the mountain. "Push for the top--one moment more and we are
out of reach!"
"Stop them, at all hazards!" vociferated Cleveland, the instant his eye
fell upon them. "Quick, lads--level your pieces--they are messengers
from Cornwallis. Rein up, or I fire!" he called aloud after the flying
cavalcade.
The appeal and the threat were unheeded. A score of men left the ranks
and ran some distance up the mountain side, and their shots whistled
through the forest after the fugitives. One of the attendants was seen
to fall, and his horse to wheel round and run back, with a frightened
pace, to the valley. The scarlet uniform of the younger horseman,
conspicuous through the foliage some distance up the mountain, showed
that he had escaped. His elder comrade, when the smoke cleared away, was
seen also beyond the reach of Cleveland's fire; but his altered pace and
his relaxed seat in his saddle, made it apparent that he had received
some hurt. This was confirmed when, still nearer to the summit, the
stranger was seen to fall upon his horse's neck, and thence to be lifted
to the ground by three or four soldiers who had hastened to his relief.
These incidents scarcely occupied more time in their performance than I
have taken in the narrative; and all reflection upon them, for the
present, was lost in the uproar and commotion of the bloody scene that
succeeded.
Meanwhile, Campbell and Shelby, each at the head of his men in the
centre division of the army, steadily commenced the ascent of the
mountain. A long interval ensued, in which nothing was heard but the
tramp of the soldiers and a few words of almost whispered command, as
they scaled the height; and it was not until they had nearly reached the
summit that the first peal of battle broke upon the sleeping echoes of
the mountain.
Campbell here deployed into line, and his men strode briskly upwards
until they had come within musket-shot of the British regulars, whose
sharp and prolonged volleys, at this instant, suddenly burst forth from
the crest of the hill. Peal after peal rattled along the mountain side,
and volumes of smoke, silvered by the light of the sun, rolled over and
enveloped the combatants.
When the breeze had partially swept away this cloud, and opened glimpses
of the battle behind it, the troops of Campbell were seen recoiling
before an impetuous charge of the bayonet, in which Ferguson himself led
the way. A sudden halt by the retreating Whigs, and a stern front
steadfastly opposed to the foe, checked the ardor of his pursuit at an
early moment, and, in turn, he was discovered retiring towards his
original ground, hotly followed by the mountaineers. Again, the same
vigorous onset from the royalists was repeated, and again the shaken
bands of Campbell rallied and turned back the rush of battle towards the
summit. At last, panting and spent with the severe encounter, both
parties stood for a space eyeing each other with deadly rage, and
waiting only to gather breath for the renewal of the strife.
At this juncture, the distant firing heard from either flank furnished
evidence that Sevier and Cleveland had both come in contact with the
enemy. The uprising of smoke above the trees showed the seat of the
combat to be below the summit on the mountain sides, and that the enemy
had there half-way met his foe; whilst the shouts of the soldiers,
alternating between the parties of either army, no less distinctly
proclaimed the fact that, at these remote points, the field was
disputed with bloody resolution and various success.
It would overtask my poor faculty of description, to give my reader even
a faint picture of this rugged battle-field. During the pause of the
combatants of the centre, Campbell and Shelby were seen riding along the
line, and by speech and gesture encouraging their soldiers to still more
determined efforts. Little need was there for exhortation; rage seemed
to have refreshed the strength of the men, who, with loud and fierce
huzzas, rushed again to the encounter. They were met with a defiance not
less eager than their own; and, for a time, the battle was again
obscured under the thick haze engendered by the incessant discharges of
fire-arms. From this gloom, a yell of triumph was sometimes heard, as
momentary success inspired those who struggled within; and the frequent
twinkle of polished steel glimmering through the murky atmosphere, and
the occasional apparition of a speeding horseman, seen for an instant as
he came into the clear light, told of the dreadful earnestness and zeal
with which the unseen hosts had now joined in conflict. The impression
of this contact was various. Parts of each force broke before their
antagonists; and in those spots where the array of the fight might be
discerned through the shade of the forest or the smoke of battle, both
royalists and Whigs were found, at the same instant, to have driven back
detached fragments of their opponents. Foemen were mingled hand to hand,
through and among their adverse ranks; and for a time no conjecture
might be indulged as to the side to which victory would turn.
The flanking detachments seemed to have fallen into the same confusion,
and might have been seen retreating and advancing upon the rough slopes
of the mountain, in partisan bodies, separated from their lines; thus
giving to the scene an air of bloody riot, more resembling the sudden
insurrection of mutineers from the same ranks, than the orderly war of
trained soldiers.
Through the din and disorder of this fight, it is fit that I should take
time to mark the wanderings of Galbraith Robinson, whose exploits this
day would not ill deserve the pen of Froissart. The doughty sergeant
had, for a time, retained his post in the ranks of the Amherst Rangers,
and with them had travelled towards the mountain top, close in the rear
of Campbell's line. But when the troops had recoiled before the frequent
charges of the royalists, finding his station, at best, but that of an
inactive spectator, he made no scruple of deserting his companions and
trying his fortune on the field in such form of adventure as best suited
his temper. With no other weapon than his customary rifle, he stood his
ground when others retreated; and saw the ebb and flow of "flight and
chase" swell round him, according to the varying destiny of the day. In
these difficulties, it was his good fortune to escape unhurt; a piece of
luck that may, perhaps, be attributed to the coolness with which he
either galloped over an adversary or around him, as the emergency
rendered most advisable.
In the midst of this busy occupation, at a moment when one of the
refluxes of battle brought him almost to the summit, he descried a small
party of British dragoons, stationed some distance in the rear of
Ferguson's line, whose detached position seemed to infer some duty
unconnected with the general fight. In the midst of these, he thought he
recognised the figure and dress of one familiar to his eye. The person
thus singled out by the sergeant's glance stood bare-headed upon a
projecting mass of rock, apparently looking with an eager gaze towards
the distant combat. No sooner did the conjecture that this might be
Arthur Butler flash across his thought, than he turned his steed back
upon the path by which he had ascended, and rode with haste towards the
Rangers.
"Stephen Foster," he said, as he galloped up to the lieutenant, and drew
his attention by a tap of the hand upon his shoulder, "I have business
for you, man--you are but wasting your time here--pick me out a
half-dozen of your best fellows and bring them with you after me.
Quick--Stephen--quick!"
The lieutenant of the Rangers collected the desired party and rode after
the sergeant, who now conducted this handful of men with as much
rapidity as the broken character of the ground allowed, by a circuit for
a considerable distance along the right side of the mountain, until they
reached the top. The point at which they gained the summit brought them
between Ferguson's line and the dragoons, who, it was soon perceived,
were the party charged with the custody of Butler, and who had been thus
detached in the rear for the more safe guardianship of the prisoner.
Horse Shoe's manoeuvre had completely cut them off from their friends
in front, and they had no resource but to defend themselves against the
threatened assault, or fly towards the parties who were at this moment
engaged with the flanking divisions of the Whigs. They were taken by
surprise--and Horse Shoe, perceiving the importance of an immediate
attack, dashed onwards along the ridge of the mountain with precipitate
speed, calling out to his companions to follow. In a moment the dragoons
were engaged in a desperate pell-mell with the Rangers.
"Upon them, Stephen! Upon them bravely, my lads! Huzza for Major Butler!
Fling the major across your saddle--the first that reaches him," shouted
the sergeant with a voice that was heard above all the uproar of battle.
"What ho--James Curry!" he cried out, as soon as he detected the
presence of his old acquaintance in this throng; "stand your ground, if
you are a man!"
The person to whom this challenge was directed had made an effort to
escape towards a party of his friends, whom he was about summoning to
his aid; and in the attempt had already ridden some distance into the
wood, whither the sergeant had eagerly followed him.
"Ah ha, old Truepenny, are you there?" exclaimed Curry, turning short
upon his pursuer, and affecting to laugh as if in scorn. "Horse Shoe
Robinson, well met!" he added sternly, "I have not seen a better sight
to-day than that fool's head of yours upon this hill. No, not even when
just now Patrick Ferguson sent your yelping curs back to hide themselves
behind the trees."
"Come on, James!" cried Horse Shoe, "I have no time to talk. We have an
old reckoning to settle, which, perhaps, you mought remember. I am a man
of my word; and, besides, I have set my eye upon Major Butler," he
added, with a tone and look that were both impressed with the fierce
passion of the scene around him.
"The devil blast you, and Major Butler to boot!" exclaimed Curry, roused
by Horse Shoe's air of defiance. "To it, bully! It shall be short work
between us, and bloody," he shouted, as he discharged a pistol-shot at
the sergeant's breast; which failing to take effect, he flung the weapon
upon the ground, brandished his sword, and spurred immediately against
his challenger. The sweep of the broadsword fell upon the barrel of
Horse Shoe's uplifted rifle, and in the next instant the broad hand of
our lusty yeoman had seized the trooper by the collar and dragged him
from his horse. The two soldiers came to the ground, locked in a mutual
embrace; and, for a brief moment, a desperate trial of strength was
exhibited in the effort to gain their feet.
"I have you there," said Robinson, as at length, with a flushed cheek,
quick breath, and blood-shot eye, he rose from the earth and shook the
dragoon from him, who fell backwards on his knee. "Curse you, James
Curry, for a fool and villain! You almost drive me, against my will, to
the taking of your life. I don't want your blood. You are beaten, man,
and must say so. I grant you quarter upon condition--"
"Look to yourself! I ask no terms from you," interrupted Curry, as
suddenly springing to his feet, he now made a second pass, which was
swung with such unexpected vigor at the head of his adversary, that
Horse Shoe had barely time to catch the blow, as before, upon his rifle.
The broadsword was broken by the stroke, and one of the fragments of the
blade struck the sergeant upon the forehead, inflicting a wound that
covered his face with blood. Horse Shoe reeled a step or two from his
ground, and clubbing the rifle, as it is called, by grasping the barrel
towards the muzzle, he paused but an instant to dash the blood from his
brow with his hand, and then, with one lusty sweep, to which his sudden
anger gave both precision and energy, he brought the piece full upon the
head of his foe, with such fatal effect as to bury the lock in the
trooper's brain, whilst the stock was shattered into splinters. Curry,
almost without a groan, fell dead across a ledge of rock at his feet.
"The grudge is done, and the fool has met his desarvings," was Horse
Shoe's brief comment upon the event, as he gazed sullenly, for an
instant, upon the dead corpse. He had no time to tarry. The rest of his
party were still engaged with the troopers of the guard, who now
struggled to preserve the custody of their prisoner. The bridle-rein of
Captain Peter had been caught by one of the Rangers, and the good steed
was now quickly delivered up to his master, who, flinging himself again
into his saddle, rushed into the throng of combatants. The few
dragoons, dispirited by the loss of their leader, and stricken with
panic at this strenuous onset, turned to flight, leaving Butler in the
midst of his friends.
"God bless you, major!" shouted Robinson, as he rode up to his old
comrade, who, unarmed, had looked upon the struggle with an interest
corresponding to the stake he had in the event. "Up, man--here, spring
across the pommel. Now, boys, down the mountain, for your lives! Huzza,
huzza! we have won him back!" he exclaimed, as seizing Butler's arm, he
lifted him upon the neck of Captain Peter, and bounded away at full
speed towards the base of the mountain, followed by Foster and his
party.
The reader may imagine the poignancy of Mildred's emotions as she sat
beside Allen Musgrove and his daughter on the knoll, and watched the
busy and stirring scene before her. The centre division of the assailing
army was immediately in her view, on the opposite face of the mountain,
and no incident of the battle in this quarter escaped her notice. She
could distinctly perceive the motions of the Amherst Rangers, to whom
she turned her eyes with a frequent and eager glance, as the corps with
which her brother Henry was associated; and when the various fortune of
the fight disclosed to her the occasional retreat of her friends before
the vigorous sallies of the enemy, or brought to her ear the renewed and
angry volleys of musketry, she clenched Mary Musgrove's arm with a
nervous grasp, and uttered short and anxious ejaculations that showed
the terror of her mind.
"I see Mister Henry, yet," said Mary, as Campbell's troops rallied from
the last shock, and again moved towards the summit. "I see him plainly,
ma'am--for I know his green dress, and caught the glitter of his brass
bugle in the sun. And there now--all is smoke again. Mercy, how stubborn
are these men! And there is Mister Henry once more--near the top. He is
safe, ma'am."
"How earnestly," said Mildred, unconsciously speaking aloud as she
surveyed the scene, "Oh, how earnestly do I wish this battle was done! I
would rather, Mr. Musgrove, be in the midst of yonder crowd of angry
men, could I but have their recklessness, than here in safety, to be
tortured with my present feelings."
"In God is our trust, madam," replied the miller. "His arm is abroad
over the dangerous paths, for a shield and buckler to them that put
their trust in him. Ha! there is Ferguson's white horse, rushing, with a
dangling rein and empty saddle, down the mountain, through Campbell's
ranks: the rider has fallen; and there, madam--there, look on it!--is a
white flag waving in the hands of a British officer. The fight is done.
Hark, our friends are cheering with a loud voice!"
"Thank Heaven--thank Heaven!" exclaimed Mildred as she sprang upon her
feet; "It is even so!"
The loud huzzas of the troops rose upon the air; the firing ceased; the
flag of truce fluttered in the breeze, and the confederated bands of the
mountaineers, from every quarter of the late battle, were seen hurrying
towards the crest of the mountain, and mingling amongst the ranks of the
conquered foe. Again and again, the clamorous cheering of the victors
broke forth from the mountain-top, and echoed along the neighboring
valleys.
During this wild clamor and busy movement, a party of horsemen were
seen, through the occasional intervals of the low wood that skirted the
valley on the right, hastening from the field with an eager swiftness
towards the spot where Mildred and her companions were stationed.
As they swept along the base of the mountain, and approached the knoll,
they were lost to view behind the projecting angles of the low hills
that formed the ravine, through which, my reader is aware, the road held
its course. When they re-appeared it was in ascending the abrupt
acclivity of the knoll, and within fifty paces of the party on the top
of it.
It was now apparent that the approaching party consisted of Stephen
Foster and three or four of the Rangers led by Horse Shoe Robinson, with
Butler still seated before him, as when the sergeant first caught him up
in the fight. These were at the same moment overtaken by Henry Lindsay,
who had turned back from the mountain at the first announcement of
victory, to bring the tidings to his sister.
Mildred's cheek grew deadly pale, and her frame shook, as the cavalcade
rushed into her presence.
"There--take him!" cried Horse Shoe, with an effort to laugh, but which
seemed to be half converted into a quaver by the agitation of his
feelings, as, springing to the ground, he swung Butler from the horse,
with scarce more effort than he would have used in handling a child;
"take him, ma'am. I promised myself to-day, that I'd give him to you.
And, now, you've got him. That's a good reward for all your troubles.
God bless us--but I'm happy to-day!"
"MY HUSBAND!--MY DEAR HUSBAND!" were the only articulate words that
escaped Mildred's lips, as she fell senseless into the arms of Arthur
Butler.