general alarm. The Regulators elected many representatives, among them
the persecuted Herman Husbands, who was chosen to represent Orange
County. This defiant action of the people roused the "Great Wolf" again.
Husbands had been acquitted of everything charged against him, yet Tryon
had him voted a disturber of the peace and expelled from the House, and
immediately afterward had him arrested and put in prison without bail,
though there was not a grain of evidence against him.
The governor followed this act of violence with a "Riot Act" of the most
oppressive and illegal character. Under it if any ten men assembled and
did not disperse when ordered to do so, they were to be held guilty of
felony. For a riot committed either before or after this act was
published any persons accused might be tried before the Superior Court,
no matter how far it was from their homes, and if they did not appear
within sixty days, with or without notice, they were to be proclaimed
outlaws and to forfeit their lives and property. The governor also sent
out a request for volunteers to march against the "rebels," but the
Assembly refused to grant money for this warlike purpose.
Governor Tryon had shown himself as unjust and tyrannous as Governor
Berkeley of Virginia had done in his contest with Bacon. It did not take
him long to foment the rebellion which he seemed determined to provoke.
When the Regulators heard that their representative had been thrown into
prison, and that they were threatened with exile or death as outlaws,
they prepared to march on Newbern for the rescue of Husbands, filling
the governor with such alarm for the safety of his fine new palace that
he felt it wise to release his captive. He tried to indict the sturdy
Highlander for a pretended libel, but the Grand Jury refused to support
him in this, and Husbands was set free. The Regulators thereupon
dispersed, after a party of them had visited the Superior Court at
Salisbury and expressed their opinion very freely about the lawyers, the
officials, and the Riot Act, which they declared had no warrant in the
laws of England.
As yet the Regulators had done little more than to protest against
tyranny and oppression and to show an intention to defend their
representative against unjust imprisonment, yet they had done enough to
arouse their lordly governor to revenge. Rebels they were, for they had
dared to question his acts, and rebels he would hold them. As the Grand
Jury would not support him in his purpose, he took steps to obtain
juries and witnesses on whom he could rely, and then brought charges
against many of the leading Regulators of Orange County, several of whom
had been quietly at home during the riots of which they were accused.
The governor's next step was to call the Grand Jury to his palace and
volunteer to them to lead troops into the western counties, the haunt of
the Regulators. The jurymen, who were his own creatures, hastened to
applaud his purpose, and the Council agreed. The Assembly refused to
provide funds for such a purpose, but Tryon got over this difficulty by
issuing a paper currency.
A force of militia was now raised in the lower part of the colony and
the country of the Regulators was invaded. Tryon marched at the head of
a strong force into Orange County, and proceeded to deal with it as if
it were a country conquered in war. As he advanced, the wheat-fields
were destroyed and the orchards felled. Every house found empty was
burned to the ground. Cattle, poultry, and all the produce of the
plantations were seized. The terrified people ran together like sheep
pursued by a wolf. The men who had been indicted for felony at Newbern,
and who had failed to submit themselves to the mercy of his packed
juries and false witnesses, were proclaimed outlaws, whose lives and
property were forfeit. Never had the colonies been so spoiled on such
slight pretence.
Thus marching onward like a conquering general of the Middle Ages,
leaving havoc and ruin in his rear, on the evening of May 14, 1771,
Tryon reached the great Alamance River, at the head of a force of a
little over one thousand men. About five miles beyond this stream were
gathered the Regulators who had fled before his threatening march. They
were probably superior in numbers to Tryon's men, but many of them had
no weapons, and they were principally concerned lest the governor "would
not lend an ear to the just complaints of the people." These "rebels"
were certainly not in the frame of mind to make rebellion successful.
The Regulators were not without a leader. One of their number, James
Hunter, they looked upon as their "general," a title of which his
excellent capacity and high courage made him worthy. On the approach of
Tryon at the head of his men James Hunter and Benjamin Merrill advanced
to meet him. They received from him this ultimatum:
"I require you to lay down your arms, surrender up the outlawed
ringleaders, submit yourselves to the laws, and rest on the lenity of
the government. By accepting these terms in one hour you will prevent an
effusion of blood, as you are at this time in a state of war and
rebellion."
Hopeless as the Regulators felt their cause, they were not ready to
submit to such a demand as this. There was not an outlaw among them, for
not one of them had been legally indicted. As to the lenity of the
government, they had an example before their eyes in the wanton ruin of
their houses and crops. With such a demand, nothing was left them but to
fight.
Tryon began the action by firing a field-piece into the group of
Regulators. At this the more timid of them--perhaps only the unarmed
ones--withdrew, but the bold remainder returned the fire, and a hot
conflict began, which was kept up steadily for two hours. The battle, at
first in the open field, soon shifted to the woodland, where the
opponents sheltered themselves behind trees and kept up the fight. Not
until their ammunition was nearly gone, and further resistance was
impossible, did Hunter and his men retreat, leaving Tryon master of the
field. They had lost twenty of their number besides the wounded and some
prisoners taken in the pursuit. Of Tryon's men nine were killed and
sixty-one wounded. Thus ended the affray known as the battle of the
Alamance, in which were fired the first shots for freedom from tyranny
by the people of the American colonies.
The victorious governor hastened to make revengeful use of his triumph.
He began the next day by hanging James Few, one of the prisoners, as an
outlaw, and confiscating his estate. A series of severe proclamations
followed, and his troops lived at free quarters on the Regulators,
forcing them to contribute provisions, and burning the houses and laying
waste the plantations of all those who had been denounced as outlaws.
On his return to Hillsborough the governor issued a proclamation
denouncing Herman Husbands, James Hunter, and some others, asking "every
person" to shoot them at sight, and offering a large reward for their
bodies alive or dead. Of the prisoners still in his hands, he had six of
them hung in his own presence for the crime of treason. Then, some ten
days later, having played the tyrant to the full in North Carolina, he
left that colony forever, having been appointed governor of New York.
The colony was saddled by him with an illegal debt of forty thousand
pounds, which he left for its people to pay.
As for the fugitive Regulators, there was no safety for them in North
Carolina, and the governors of South Carolina and Virginia were
requested not to give them refuge. But they knew of a harbor of refuge
to which no royal governors had come, over which the flag of England had
never waved, and where no lawyer or tax-collector had yet set foot, in
that sylvan land west of the Alleghenies on which few besides Daniel
Boone, the famous hunter, had yet set foot.
Here was a realm for a nation, and one on which nature had lavished her
richest treasures. Here in spring the wild crab-apple filled the air
with the sweetest of perfumes, here the clear mountain-streams flowed
abundantly, the fertile soil was full of promise of rich harvests, the
climate was freshly invigorating, and the west winds ripe with the seeds
of health. Here were broad groves of hickory and oak, of maple, elm,
and ash, in which the elk and the red deer made their haunts, and the
black bear, whose flesh the hunter held to be delicious beyond rivalry,
fattened on the abundant crop of acorns and chestnuts. In the trees and
on the grasses were quail, turkeys, and pigeons numberless, while the
golden eagle built its nest on the mountain-peaks and swooped in circles
over the forest land. Where the thickets of spruce and rhododendron
threw their cooling shade upon the swift streams, the brook trout was
abundant, plenty and promise were everywhere, and, aside from the peril
of the prowling savage, the land was a paradise.
It was not in Kentucky, where Boone then dwelt alone, but in Tennessee
that the fugitive Regulators sought a realm of safety. James Robertson,
one of their number, had already sought the land beyond the hills and
was cultivating his fields of maize on the Watauga's fertile banks. He
was to become one of the leading men in later Tennessee. Hither the
Regulators, fleeing from their persecutors, followed him, and in 1772
founded a republic in the wilderness by a written compact, Robertson
being chosen one of their earliest magistrates. Thus, still defiant of
persecution, they "set to the people of America the dangerous example of
erecting themselves into a separate state, distinct from and independent
of the authority of the British king."
Thus we owe to the Regulators of North Carolina the first decided step
in the great struggle for independence so soon to come. And to North
Carolina we must give the credit of making the earliest declaration of
independence. More than a year before Jefferson's famous Declaration the
people of Mecklenburg County passed a series of resolutions in which
they declared themselves free from allegiance to the British crown. This
was in May, 1775. On April 12, 1776, North Carolina authorized her
delegates in the Continental Congress to declare for independence. Thus
again the Old North State was the first to set her seal for liberty. The
old Regulators had not all left her soil, and we seem to hear in these
resolutions an echo of the guns which were fired on the Alamance in the
first stroke of the colonists of America for freedom from tyranny.
_LORD DUNMORE AND THE GUNPOWDER._
In the city of Williamsburg, the old capital of Virginia, there still
stands a curious old powder magazine, built nearly two centuries ago by
Governor Spotswood, the hero of the "Golden Horseshoe" adventure. It is
a strong stone building, with eight-sided walls and roof, which looks as
if it might stand for centuries to come. On this old magazine hinges a
Revolutionary tale, which seems to us well worth the telling. The story
begins on April 19, 1775, the day that the shots at Lexington brought on
the war for independence.
The British government did not like the look of things in America. The
clouds in the air, and the occasional lightning flash and thunder roar,
were full of threat of a coming storm. To prevent this, orders were sent
from England to the royal governors to seize all the powder and arms in
the colonies on a fixed day, This is what Governor Gage, of
Massachusetts, tried to do at Concord on April 19th. In the night of the
same day, Lord Dunmore, governor of Virginia, attempted the same thing
at Williamsburg.
Had this been done openly in Virginia, as in Massachusetts, the story of
Lexington would have been repeated there. Lord Dunmore took the
patriots by surprise. A British ship-of-war, the "Magdalen," some time
before, came sailing up York River, and dropped its anchor in the stream
not far from Williamsburg. On the 19th of April Lord Dunmore sent word
to Captain Collins, of the "Magdalen," that all was ready, and after
dark on that day a party of soldiers, led by the captain, landed from
the ship. About midnight they marched silently into the town. All was
quiet, the people in their beds, sleeping the sleep of the just, and not
dreaming that treachery was at their doors. The captain had the key to
the magazine and opened its door, setting his soldiers to carry out as
quietly as possible the half-barrels of gunpowder with which it was
stored. They came like ghosts, and so departed. All was done so
stealthily, that the morning of the 20th dawned before the citizens knew
that anything had been going on in their streets under the midnight
shadows.
When the news spread abroad the town was in an uproar. What right had
the governor to meddle with anything bought with the hard cash of
Virginia and belonging to the colony? In their anger they resolved to
seize the governor and make him answer to the people for his act. They
did not like Lord Dunmore, whom they knew to be a false-hearted man, and
would have liked to make him pay for some former deeds of treachery. But
the cooler heads advised them not to act in haste, saying that it was
wiser to take peaceful measures, and to send and tell Dunmore that
their powder must be returned.
This was done. The governor answered with a falsehood. He said that he
had heard of some danger of an insurrection among the slaves in a
neighboring county, and had taken the powder to use against them. If
nothing happened, he would soon return it; they need not worry, all
would be right.
This false story quieted the people of Williamsburg for a time. But it
did not satisfy the people of Virginia. As the news spread through the
colony the excitement grew intense. What right had Lord Dunmore to carry
off the people's powder, bought for their defence? Many of them seized
their arms, and at Fredericksburg seven hundred men assembled and sent
word that they were ready to march on Williamsburg. Among them were the
"minute men" of Culpeper, a famous band of frontiersmen, wearing green
hunting-shirts and carrying knives and tomahawks. "Liberty or Death,"
Patrick Henry's stirring words, were on their breasts, and over their
heads floated a significant banner. On it was a coiled rattlesnake, with
the warning motto, "Don't tread on me!"
Prompt as these men were, there was one man in Virginia still more
prompt, a man not to be trifled with by any lordly governor. This was
Patrick Henry, the patriotic orator. The instant he heard of the
stealing of the powder he sent word to the people in his vicinity to
meet him at Newcastle, ready to fight for Virginia's rights. They came,
one hundred and fifty of them, all well armed, and without hesitation he
led them against the treacherous governor. It looked as if there was to
be a battle in Virginia, as there had been in Massachusetts. Lord
Dunmore was scared when he heard that the patriots were marching on him,
as they had marched on Lord Berkeley a century before. He sent word
hastily to Patrick Henry to stop his march and that he would pay for the
powder.
[Illustration: OLD MAGAZINE AT WILLIAMSBURG.]
Very likely this disappointed the indignant orator. Just then he would
rather have fought Dunmore than take his money. But he had no good
excuse for refusing it, so the cash was paid over, three hundred and
thirty pounds sterling,--equal to about sixteen hundred dollars,--and
Henry and his men marched home.
Lord Dunmore was in a towering rage at his defeat. He did what Berkeley
had done against Bacon long before, issuing a proclamation in which he
said that Patrick Henry and all those with him were traitors to the
king. Then he sent to the "Magdalen" for soldiers, and had arms laid on
the floors of his lordly mansion ready for use when the troops should
come.
All was ripe for an outbreak. The people of Virginia had not been used
to see British troops on their soil. If Lord Dunmore wanted war they
were quite ready to let him have it. Arms were lacking, and some young
men broke open the door of the magazine to see if any were there. As
they did so there was a loud report and one of the party fell back
bleeding. A spring-gun had been placed behind the door, doubtless by
Lord Dunmore's orders.
The startling sound brought out the people. When they learned what had
been done, they ran angrily to the magazine and seized all the arms they
could find there. In doing so they made a discovery that doubled their
indignation. Beneath the floor several barrels of gunpowder were hidden,
as if to blow up any one who entered. While they were saying that this
was another treacherous trick of the governor's, word was brought them
that the troops from the "Magdalen" were marching on the town. With
shouts of fury they ran for their arms. If Lord Dunmore was so eager for
a fight, they were quite ready to accommodate him and to stand up before
his British soldiers and strike for American rights. A few words will
end this part of our story. When the governor saw the spirit of the
people he did as Berkeley before him had done, fled to his ships and
relieved Williamsburg of his presence. The Virginians had got rid of
their governor and his British troops without a fight.
This ends the story of the gunpowder, but there were things that
followed worth the telling. Virginia was not done with Lord Dunmore.
Sailing in the "Magdalen" to Chesapeake Bay, he found there some other
war-vessels, and proceeded with this squadron to Norfolk, of which he
took possession. Most of the people of that town were true patriots,
though by promises of plunder he induced some of the lower class of
whites to join him, and also brought in many negro slaves from the
country around. With this motley crew he committed many acts of
violence, rousing all Virginia to resistance. A "Committee of Safety"
was appointed and hundreds of men eagerly enlisted and were sent to
invest Norfolk. But their enemy was not easy to find, as they kept out
of reach most of the time on his ships.
On December 9, 1775, the first battle of the Revolution in the South
took place. The patriot forces at that time were at a place called Great
Bridge, near the Dismal Swamp, and not far from Norfolk. Against them
Dunmore sent a body of his troops. These reached Great Bridge to find it
a small wooden bridge over a stream, and to see the Americans awaiting
them behind a breastwork which they had thrown up across the road at the
opposite end of the bridge. Among them were the Culpeper "minute men,"
of whom we have spoken, with their rattlesnake standard, and one of the
lieutenants in their company was a man who was to become famous in after
years,--John Marshall, the celebrated Chief Justice of the United
States.
The British posted their cannon and opened fire on the Virginians; then,
when they fancied they had taken the spirit out of the backwoods
militia, a force of grenadiers charged across the bridge, led by Captain
Fordyce. He proved himself a good soldier, but he found the colonials
good soldiers too. They held back their fire till the grenadiers were
across the bridge and less than fifty yards away. Then the crack of
rifles was heard and a line of fire flashed out all along the low
breastwork. And it came from huntsmen who knew how to bring down their
game.
Many of the grenadiers fell before this scorching fire. Their line was
broken and thrown into confusion. Captain Fordyce at their head waved
his hat, shouting, "The day is ours!" The words were barely spoken when
he fell. In an instant he was on his feet again, brushing his knee as if
he had only stumbled. Yet the brave fellow was mortally wounded, no less
than fourteen bullets having passed through his body, and after a
staggering step or two he fell dead.
This took the courage out of the grenadiers. They fell back in disorder
upon the bridge, hastened by the bullets of the patriots. At every step
some of them fell. The Virginians, their standard-bearer at their head,
leaped with cheers of triumph over the breastwork and pursued them,
driving them back in panic flight, and keeping up the pursuit till the
fugitives were safe in Norfolk. Thus ended in victory the first battle
for American liberty on the soil of the South.
Lord Dunmore had confidently expected his bold grenadiers to return with
trophies of their victory over the untrained colonials. The news of
their complete defeat filled him with fear and fury. At first he
refused to believe it, and threatened to hang the boy who brought him
the news. But the sight of the blood-stained fugitives soon convinced
him, and in a sudden panic he took refuge with all his forces in his
ships. The triumphant Virginians at once took possession of the town.
Dunmore lingered in the harbor with his fleet, and the victors opened
fire with their cannon on the ships. "Stop your fire or I will burn your
town with hot shot," he sent word. "Do your worst," retorted the bold
Virginia commander, and bade his men to keep their cannons going. The
ruthless governor kept his word, bombarding the town with red-hot shot,
and soon it was in flames.
The fire could not be extinguished. For three days it raged, spreading
in all directions, till the whole town was a sheet of flames. Not until
there was nothing left to burn did the flames subside. Norfolk was a
complete ruin. Its six thousand inhabitants, men, women, and children,
were forced to flee from their burning homes and seek what scant refuge
they could find in that chill winter season. Dunmore even landed his
troops to fire on the place. Then, having visited the peaceful
inhabitants with the direst horrors of war, he sailed in triumph away,
glorying in his revenge.
The lordly governor now acted the pirate in earnest. He sailed up and
down the shores of Chesapeake Bay, landing and plundering the
plantations on every side. At a place called Gwyn's Island, on the
western shore, he had a fort built, which he garrisoned mainly with the
negroes and low whites he had brought from Norfolk. Just what was his
purpose in this is not known, for the Virginians gave him no chance to
carry it out. General Andrew Lewis, a famous Indian fighter, led a force
of patriot volunteers against him, planting his cannon on the shore
opposite the island, and opened a hot fire on the fort and the ships.
The first ball fired struck the "Dunmore," the ship which held the
governor. A second struck the same ship, and killed one of its crew. A
third smashed the governor's crockery, and a splinter wounded him in the
leg. This was more than the courage of a Dunmore could stand, and sail
was set in all haste, the fleet scattering like a flock of frightened
birds. The firing continued all day long. Night came, and no signs of
surrender were seen, though the fire was not returned. At daylight the
next morning two hundred men were sent in boats to reconnoitre and
attack the fort. They quickly learned that there was nothing to attack.
Lord Dunmore had been preparing all night for flight. The fort had been
dismantled of everything of value, and as the assailants sprang from
their boats on the island the ships sailed hurriedly away.
The island itself was a sickening spectacle. The cannonade had made
terrible havoc, and men lay dead or wounded all around, while many of
the dead had been buried so hastily as to be barely covered. While they
were looking at the frightful scene, a strong light appeared in the
direction of the governor's flight. Its meaning was evident at a
glance. Some of the vessels had grounded in the sands, and, as they
could not be got off, he had set them afire to save them from the enemy.
That was almost the last exploit of Lord Dunmore. He kept up his
plundering raids a little longer, and once sailed up the Potomac to
Mount Vernon, with the fancy that he might find and capture Washington.
But soon after that he sailed away with his plunder and about one
thousand slaves whom he had taken from the plantations, and Virginia was
well rid of her last royal governor. A patriot governor soon followed,
Patrick Henry being chosen, and occupying the very mansion at
Williamsburg from which Dunmore had proclaimed him a traitor.
_THE FATAL EXPEDITION OF COLONEL ROGERS._