When the Legion was on its march to form a junction with Marion, on the
little Pedee, it one night encamped in a large field on the southern
side of a stream, with the main road in front. The night passed on very
quietly, until about two or three in the morning, when the officer of
the day reported that a strange noise had been heard by the picquet in
front, on the great road, resembling the noise of men moving through
the adjoining swamp. While he was yet speaking, the sentinel in that
quarter fired his piece, which was immediately followed by the bugle
calling in the horse patroles, the invariable custom upon the approach
of an enemy. The drums instantly beat to arms, and the troops arranged
for defence. The sentries on being questioned, all concurred in the
same account, “and one patrol of horse asserted that they had heard
horsemen concealing with the greatest care their advance.” Lee was in
great perplexity, for he knew that he was not within striking distance
of any large body of the enemy, and that Marion was at least two days
distance in advance; but soon a sentinel in another direction fired, and
the same report was brought in from him; and it was apparent, however
unaccountable, that the enemy were present. A rapid change in the
formation of the troops was made to meet the attack in this quarter,
but it was hardly accomplished before the fire of a third sentinel in a
different direction, communicated the intelligence of danger from another
quarter. Feelings of intense anxiety were now aroused, and preparations
were made for a general assault, as soon as light should allow it to be
made. The picquets and sentinels held their stations, the horse patrols
were called in, and the corps changed its position in silence, and with
precision upon every new communication, with the combined object of
keeping the fires between them and the enemy, and the horse in the rear
of the infantry.
While thus engaged, another and rapid discharge by the sentinels, on the
line of the great road, plainly indicated that the enemy were in force,
and that with full understanding of their object, they had surrounded
them. It was also evident that there must be a large body of the enemy,
from their covering so large a segment of the circle around them. It was
equally apparent that they could expect no aid from any quarter, and
relying upon themselves, the corps awaited in extreme anxiety, the scene
which the day was to usher upon them.
Lee passed along the line of infantry and cavalry, in a low tone urging
upon them the necessity of profound silence, reminding them that in
the approaching contest they must sustain their high reputation, and
expressing his confidence, that with their accustomed bravery, they
would be able to cut their way through all opposing obstacles, and reach
the Pedee. His address was answered by whispers of applause, and having
formed the cavalry and infantry into two columns, he awaited anxiously
the break of day, to give the signal for action. It soon appeared, and
the columns advanced on the great road; infantry in front, baggage in
the centre, and cavalry in the rear. As soon as the head of the column
reached the road, the van officer proceeding a few hundred yards received
the same account that had been given from the sentinel that had fired
last.
The enigma remained unexplained, and no enemy being in view, there could
be but little doubt that the attack was to be from ambushment, and the
column moved slowly on, expecting every moment to receive their fire.
But the van officer’s attention having been accidentally attracted, he
examined, and found along the road, the tracks of a large pack of wolves.
The mystery was now solved; it was evident that the supposed enemy was
no other than the pack of wild beasts, which, turned from their route
by the fire of the sentinels, had passed still from point to point in a
wide circuit, bent upon the attainment of their object. A quantity of
provisions had been stored some time previously on their line of march,
but having become spoiled, it was abandoned in the vicinity of the
night’s encampment, and the wolves had been disturbed by the videts, in
the nightly progress to their regale. The agitation instantly subsided,
and wit and merriment flashed on all sides, “every one appearing anxious
to shift the derision from himself upon his neighbour, the commandant
himself coming in for his share; and as it was the interest of the many
to fix the stigma on the few, the corps unanimously charged the officer
of the day, the guards, the patrols and picquets, with gross stupidity,
hard bordering upon cowardice:” nevertheless, they were none the less
relieved by the happy termination of an adventure attended by so many
circumstances naturally alarming, and it long passed as an excellent joke
in the Legion, under the title of the “Wolf reconnoitre.”
The music sounded merrily, and the column marched on, elate with the
fun and novelty of the adventure, and of the buglers none blew a more
cheery strain than little Jack Ellis the bugler of Armstrong’s troop.
He was a fine boy, small and intelligent, as well as young and handsome,
and a general favourite in the Legion. Poor little fellow! he met his
death under circumstances peculiarly tragic and cruel, not long after.
When the Southern army, under Green, was slowly making its masterly
retreat before Cornwallis, the Legion formed part of the rear-guard, and
was consequently almost continually in sight of the van of the enemy,
commanded by Brigadier-General O’Hara. The duty devolving upon it,
severe in the day, was extremely so in the night, for numerous patrols
and picquets were constantly required to be on the alert, to prevent
the enemy from taking advantage of the darkness to get near the main
army by circuitous routes, so that one half of the troops of the rear
guard were alternately put on duty day and night, and the men were not
able to get more than six hours sleep out of the forty-eight. But the
men were in fine spirits, notwithstanding the great fatigue to which
they were subjected. They usually, at the break of day, hurried on, to
gain as great a distance in advance as possible, that they might secure
their breakfast, the only meal during the rapid and hazardous retreat.
One drizzly and cold morning, the officers and dragoons, in pursuance of
this custom, had hurried on to the front, and just got their corn cakes
and meat on the coals, when a countryman, mounted on a small and meagre
pony, came galloping up, and hastily asking for the commanding officer,
he informed him that the British column, leaving the main line of march,
were moving obliquely in a different direction, and that, discovering the
manœuvre from a field where he was burning brush, he had run home, caught
the first horse he could lay his hands upon, and hurried along with the
information. Unwilling to believe the report of the countryman, although
he could not well doubt it, and reluctant to disturb so materially the
comfort of the men, as to deprive them of the breakfast for which they
were waiting with keen appetites, Lee ordered Captain Armstrong to take
one section of horse, accompanied by the countryman, to return on the
route, and having reconnoitred, to make his report.
Circumstances, however, strengthening him in the belief that the
information of the countryman was correct, he took a squadron of cavalry,
and followed on to the support of Armstrong, whom he overtook at no great
distance ahead. Perceiving no sign of the enemy, he again concluded that
the countryman was mistaken. He therefore directed Armstrong to take the
guide and three dragoons, and to advance still further on the road, while
he returned with the squadron to finish their breakfast. The countryman
mounted on his sorry nag, protested against being thus left to take care
of himself, asserting that though the dragoons on their spirited and
powerful horses were sure of safety, if pursued—he, on his jaded hack,
was equally sure of being taken. Lee acknowledged the danger of the
friendly guide, dismounted the little bugler, and giving the countryman
his horse, he placed Ellis upon the hack, sending him on in front to
report to the commanding officer. After having returned a short distance,
the squadron entered the woods, on the road side, and the dragoons
leisurely proceeded to finish their breakfast—but they had hardly got it
out of their haversacks, when a firing of musketry was heard, and almost
immediately after the clatter of horses’ hoofs coming on at full gallop.
The next moment, Armstrong, with his dragoons and the countryman came in
sight, pursued by a troop of Tarleton’s dragoons, at the top of their
speed.
Lee saw Armstrong with his small party well in front and hard in hand,
and felt no anxiety about them, as he knew that their horses were so
superior to those of the enemy that they were perfectly safe, but the
danger of the bugler, who could be but little ahead, immediately caused
him serious uneasiness. Wishing however, to let the British squadron
get as far from support as possible, he continued in the woods for a
few moments, intending to interpose in time to save the boy. Having
let them get a sufficient distance, and assuring himself that there
was nothing coming up to their support, he put the squadron in motion
and appeared on the road, but only in time to see the enraged dragoons
overtake and sabre the poor little suppliant, as he in vain implored
for quarter. Infuriated at the sight, he gave orders to charge, and the
English officer had barely time to form, when Lee’s squadron was upon
them like a whirlwind—killing, prostrating, and unhorsing almost the
whole of the force in an instant, while the captain, and the few left
unhurt endeavoured to escape. Ordering Lieutenant Lewis to follow on in
pursuit, with strict orders to give no quarter, an order dictated by the
sanguinary act that they had just witnessed, he placed the dying boy in
the arms of two of the dragoons, directing them to proceed onwards to the
camp, and immediately after pushed on to the support of Lewis, whom he
soon met returning with the English captain and several of his dragoons,
prisoners—the officer unhurt, but the men severely cut in the face, neck,
and shoulders. Reprimanding Lewis on the spot for disobedience of orders,
he peremptorily charged the British officer with the atrocity that they
had just witnessed, and ordered him to prepare for instant death. The
officer urged that he had in vain endeavoured to save the boy, that his
dragoons were intoxicated, and would not obey his orders, and he begged
that he might not be sacrificed, stating that in the slaughter of Lt.
Col. Buford’s command, he had used his greatest exertions, and succeeded
in saving the lives of many of the Americans. This, in some measure
mollified Lee, but just then overtaking the speechless and dying boy,
expiring in the arms of the soldiers, his bright and handsome face,
changed in the ghastly agony of death, he returned with unrelenting
sternness to his first decision and informed the Englishman that he
should execute him in the next vale through which they were to pass, and
furnishing him with a pencil and paper, desired him to make such note
as he wished to his friends, which he pledged him his word should be
sent to the British General. The ill-fated soldier proceeded to write,
when the British van approaching in sight, the prisoner was sent on
to Col. Williams in front, who, ignorant of the murder, and of Lee’s
determination to make an example of him, in his turn, forwarded him on
to head quarters—thus luckily saving his life. Eighteen of the British
dragoons fell in the charge, and were buried by Cornwallis as he came
up, but the American’s had time to do no more than lay the body of the
poor little bugler in the woods on the side of the road, trusting to
the charity of the country people to inter it, when they were obliged
to resume their retreat. It should be borne in mind that Lee’s humane
disposition could only be excited to such summary vengeance by the
cruel and unwarrantable murder that they had just witnessed, and by the
frequent acts of atrocity which had been repeatedly enacted by this same
corps.
Perhaps the fated destiny which frequently appears to await the
soldier, hanging over him like a shield while he passes through the
most desperate danger, until the appointed hour arrives, was never
more apparent than in the case of Lt. Col. Webster, of the British army
in this same retreat. When the rear of the American army, composed as
has been observed principally by the Legion, had passed the Reedy Fork,
the British van under the command of Webster, endeavoured to ford the
river and bring them into action, a point which Cornwallis was anxious
to attain, but which was entirely foreign to the plan of Greene, whose
object was to wear out his pursuers. Under the cover of a dense fog,
the British had attained a short distance of the Legion before they
were discovered. They made their appearance on the opposite bank of the
river, and after halting a few moments, descended the hill and approached
the water, but receiving a heavy fire of musketry and rifles, they fell
back and quickly reascending, were again rallied on the margin of the
bank. Col. Webster rode up, calling upon the soldiers in a loud voice
to follow, and rushing down the hill, at their head, amid a galling
fire poured from the Legion troops, he plunged into the water. In the
woods occupied by the riflemen, was an old log schoolhouse, a little
to the right of the ford. The mud stuffed between the logs had mostly
fallen out, and the apertures admitted the use of rifles with ease.
In this house Lee had posted five and twenty select marksmen from the
mountain militia, with orders to forego engaging in the general action,
and directions to hold themselves in reserve for any particular object
which might present. “The attention of this party being attracted by
Webster, as he plunged into the water, they singled him out as their
mark. The stream being deep, and the bottom rugged, he advanced slowly,
the soldiers, some of them, holding on by his stirrup-leathers,—and one
by one they discharged their rifles at him, each man sure of knocking
him over, and, having re-loaded, eight or nine of them, emptied their
guns at him a second time, yet strange to relate, neither horse nor rider
received a single ball. The twenty-five marksmen were celebrated for
their superior skill, and it was a common amusement for them to place an
apple on the end of a ramrod and hold it out at arm’s length, as a mark
for their comrades to fire at, when many balls would pass through the
apple, yet the British officer, mounted on a stout horse, slowly moving
through a deep water course, was singled out and fired at thirty-two or
three times successively, and yet remained untouched, and succeeded in
effecting a lodgment on the bank, where he formed his troops under a
heavy fire.” This gallant officer, and polished gentleman, the favourite
of Cornwallis, subsequently fell at the battle of Guilford Court-House,
not more regretted by his brother soldiers, than admired by those of the
American army.
There is nothing more true, than that in war as in love, much depends
upon accident, and an alarm is frequently conveyed and a victory won, by
circumstances entirely the act of chance. As a case in point. In the
retreat of the British after the battle of Monks’ Corner, Lt. Col. Stuart
ordered all the arms belonging to the dead and wounded to be collected,
and when the retreating enemy had marched on, they were set fire to
by the rear guard. As many of the muskets were loaded, an irregular
discharge followed, resembling the desultory fire which usually precedes
a battle. The retreating army immediately supposed, that Greene was up
and had commenced an attack on their rear—and the dismay and confusion
was so great, that the wagoners cut the traces of their horses and
galloped off, leaving the wagons on the route. The followers of the army
fled in like manner, and the terror was rapidly increasing, when the
cessation of the firing quelled the alarm.
But the most exciting incident that our fellow voyager related, and one
which would well merit the attention of the painter, was the spirited
affair at Quinby’s Bridge. When the British army in their turn were
retreating, Sumpter, Marion and Lee frequently were able to act in
concert. The 19th British Regiment, Lt. Col. Coates, having become
isolated at Monks’ Corner, Marion and Lee determined to fall upon it, and
cut it off by surprise before it could obtain relief. The British officer
having taken the precaution to secure the bridge across the Cooper river
by a strong detachment, it became necessary for them to make a long
circuit, through the deep sands in the hottest part of the summer, before
they could form a junction with Sumpter, whose aid was required in the
intended attack. The junction was not effected until evening, and the
attack was necessarily deferred until the following morning; but about
midnight the whole sky becoming illuminated by a great conflagration,
it was evident that the enemy had taken the alarm. They had set fire to
the church to destroy the stores, and had decamped in silence. By the
neglect of the militia, who had deserted a bridge at which they were
stationed, the enemy had been able to draw off, and obtain a considerable
distance in advance, before their retreat was discovered. Lee immediately
followed on with the cavalry in pursuit of the main body, but was
unable to come up with it, until he had arrived in the neighbourhood of
Quinby’s Bridge, about eighteen miles from Monks’ Corner. Upon his first
approach, he discovered the baggage of the regiment under a rear guard
of about one hundred men, advancing along a narrow road, the margin of
which was bordered by a deep swamp on both sides. As soon as the cavalry
came in view, the British officer formed his men across the road, which
they had hardly effected, when the charge was sounded, and the Legion
cavalry rushed upon them with drawn swords at full gallop. The voice of
the British officer was distinctly heard: “Front rank,—bayonets—second
rank,—fire!”—and as no discharge immediately followed, the cavalry
officers felt extreme solicitude, lest its reservation was meant to
make it the more fatal on their near approach, for on the narrow road,
and in the close column in which they were rushing on, a well-directed
fire would have emptied half of their saddles—but happily the soldiers,
alarmed by the formidable appearance of the cavalry, threw down their
arms and supplicated for quarter, which the cavalry were most happy to
grant them. The prisoners being secured, the main body of the cavalry
pushed on under Armstrong for the bridge, which was still about three
miles in front, in the hope of cutting off the enemy before they should
succeed in reaching it. As Armstrong came in sight, he found that Coates
had passed the bridge, and that he was indolently reposing on the
opposite side of the river, awaiting his rear guard and baggage. He had,
by way of precaution, taken up the planks from the bridge, letting them
lie loosely on the sleepers, intending as soon as the rear should have
crossed, to destroy it. Seeing the enemy with the bridge thus interposed,
which he knew was contrary to the commandant’s anticipations, Armstrong
drew up, and sent back word to Lee, who was still with the prisoners,
requesting orders, never communicating the fact that the bridge was
interposed. Lee’s adjutant soon came galloping back with the laconic
answer:—“The order of the day, sir, is to fall upon the enemy, without
regard to consequences.”
The gallant Armstrong for a moment leaned forward in his saddle,
towards the adjutant, as if thunder-struck, with this reflection on his
courage,—in the next his sword glanced like a streak of light around
his head, his noble horse leapt with a snort clear of the ground, as
the spur-rowels were buried to the gaffs in his sides, and in another
shouting in a voice of thunder—“Legion cavalry, charge!” at the head of
his section, he cleared the bridge, the horses throwing off the loose
planks in every direction, the next instant driving the soldiers headlong
from the howitzer which they had mounted at the other end to defend it,
he was cutting and slashing in the very centre of the British regiment,
which, taken completely by surprise, threw down their arms, retreating
in every direction. The horses of Armstrong’s section had thrown off the
planks as they cleared the bridge, leaving a yawning chasm, beneath which
the deep black stream was rushing turbidly onwards; but Lt. Carrington,
at the head of his section, took the leap and closed with Armstrong,
engaged in a desperate personal encounter with Lt. Col. Coates, who had
had barely time to throw himself with a few of his officers behind some
baggage-wagons, where they were parrying the sabre cuts made by the
dragoons at their heads. Most of the soldiers, alarmed at the sudden
attack, had abandoned their officers, and were running across the fields,
to shelter themselves in a neighbouring farm-house. Lee, by this time,
had himself got up to the bridge, where O’Neal, with the third section
had halted, the chasm having been so much enlarged by Carrington’s horses
throwing off additional planks, that his horses would not take the leap,
and seeing the howitzer abandoned, and the whole regiment dispersed,
except the few officers who were defending themselves with their swords,
while they called upon the flying soldiers for assistance, he proceeded
to recover and replace the planks. The river was deep in mud, and still
deeper in water, so that the dragoons could neither get a footing to
re-place the planks, nor a firm spot from which they might swim their
horses to the aid of their comrades. Seeing this posture of affairs,
some of the bravest of the British soldiers began to hurry back to the
assistance of their officers, and Armstrong and Carrington, being unable
to sustain with only one troop of dragoons, so unequal a combat, they
abandoned the contest, forcing their way down the great road, into the
woods on the margin of the stream, in the effort to rejoin the corps.
Relieved from the immediate danger, Coates hastened back to the bridge,
and opened a fire from the deserted howitzer upon Lee and the soldiers,
who were fruitlessly striving to repair the bridge, and being armed only
with their sabres, which the chasm made perfectly useless, as they could
not reach the enemy across it, they were also forced to give up the
attempt, and retire without the range of the fire from the gun.
Marion shortly after coming up, in conjunction with Lee marched some
distance down the banks, where they were enabled to ford the stream,
and effect a passage. In the edge of the evening, they reached the
farm-house, but found that Coates had fortified himself within it, with
his howitzer, and was thus impregnable to cavalry. “While halting in
front, Armstrong and Carrington came up with their shattered sections.
Neither of the officers were hurt, but many of the bravest dragoons were
killed, and still more wounded. Some of their finest fellows—men, who
had passed through the whole war esteemed and admired, had fallen in
this honourable but unsuccessful attempt.” Being without artillery, and
within striking distance of Charleston, they were obliged, fatigued as
they were, to commence their retreat. Placing the wounded in the easiest
posture for conveyance, and laying the dead on the pommels of their
saddles, the Legion counter-marched fifteen miles; at its close, burying
in sadness and grief in one common sepulchre the bodies of those that had
fallen.