EARLY HISTORY--THE PURSUIT--THE BATTLE--THE VICTORY.
“Hark to the trump and the drum,
And the mournful sound of the barbarous horn,
And the flap of the banners that flit as they’re borne,
And the neigh of the steed, and the multitude’s hum,
And the clash, and the shout, ‘They come! they come!’”
LORD BYRON.
Ferguson’s foes heard, on October 4, of his retreat, but were
doubtful of its direction. Following his footsteps, they made little
progress that day, for men and horses were weary. Maj. Candler, with
thirty of Clarke’s refugees from Georgia, joined them; also, in the
march on the 5th, Maj. Chronicle, with twenty men from the Catawba
River. Col. Lacey arrived that night at their camp on Green River,
from an encampment of four hundred and thirty Whigs, in Rutherford
County, two hundred and seventy of whom were South Carolinians
under Colonels Lacey and Hill, and one hundred and sixty were North
Carolinians--one hundred commanded by Col. Williams, and sixty by
Colonels Graham and Hambright. Lacey gave the mountaineers definite
information concerning Ferguson, and it was agreed that they and the
forces Lacey represented should meet at the Cowpens and combine.
The same night, about seven hundred of the troops commanded by Col.
Campbell and his compatriots, whose horses were in condition for
rapid movement were selected, and on the next day they marched to the
Cowpens, leaving seven hundred men under command of Maj. Herndon to
follow more slowly.
At the Cowpens, a junction of forces as pre-arranged was made. The
four hundred and thirty soldiers commanded by Lacey and others, were
reduced by selection to two hundred and ten. These made the whole
body of chosen cavalry, nine hundred and ten. At 9 P. M. October
6, they started and rode all night in a drizzling rain to overtake
Ferguson, whose army, as a spy informed them, numbered fifteen
hundred men. With the return of daylight, they made better speed,
but still the rain fell and they could scarcely keep their guns dry.
They forded the deep waters of Broad River at sunrise, halted a few
minutes to breakfast from the scanty food they carried, and would
have halted at noon, because of the stormy weather and their fatigue.
Campbell, Sevier and Cleveland proposed to do so, but Shelby, with
profane words, refused. He would brook no delay until night fell or
Ferguson was found. A scout who had visited a Tory family, disguised
as “a true King’s man,” brought them word that the British army
was posted on King’s Mountain. When within a few miles of it, they
captured from a courier a dispatch sent by Ferguson to Cornwallis,
calling for help by reinforcement and declaring his purpose against
the rebels in very uncourteous and profane language. It was told to
the American troops, and only quickened their speed. With galloping
horses they went forward in sight of the enemy’s camp.
It was early in the afternoon of the seventh of October, 1780. The
rain had ceased and the clouds were rolling away before the bright
shining of the sun. This was auspicious. These plain men from west of
the Alleghanies may not have understood how critical was that hour
of the American Revolution, even as well as did the harried Whigs
from the Carolinas who were their companions in arms; but they were
wide awake to the value of the rights for which their countrymen
contended, and of the opportunity at hand to help them. Not one of
those who were about to go into battle for the Colonies saw, as the
men of to-day can see, along with the greatness of the danger to the
struggle for American independence, the important consequences of
their own heroic conduct. Men engaged in war are intent upon present
deeds rather than thoughtful of future results.
That day’s conflict would roll away the clouds that filled the
civil and political sky of the Colonies, or would make them darker
and thicker. As that day went, would go the destiny, not only of
the infant Republic, but with it, that of hundreds of millions of
the human race. The battle might close the door or open it to “a
Government of the people, by the people, and for the people,” on
a mighty continent, where families of every nation and language
should dwell in the faith of Christ and brotherly love. O, men of the
hills, where freedom always has a home, be brave of heart and firm of
hand, in the presence of such a grand possibility! And those plain,
hunting-shirted riflemen were not afraid. Therefore they shall be
honored by all people of right mind and true heart until time ends.
Dismounted from their horses, they formed for battle in four
columns around the mountain. Two columns were on the right--one,
Campbell’s regiment of Virginians, and the other, Sevier’s regiment,
with McDowell’s and Winston’s battalions. Two columns were on the
left--one composed of Shelby’s regiment and Williams’ command; the
other of North Carolinians, under Cleveland, Chronicle and Hambright,
and of South Carolinians, under Lacey and others. The chief officers
briefly exhorted their men to do valiantly. Campbell, addressing each
corps in turn, told those who were afraid to stand back, but no one
moved. Instead, men threw their hats into the air and wrapped their
heads tightly in handkerchiefs, that their quick step through the
woods might be easier. Up the mountain sides they went, in the face
of an equal and boastful foe.
And now, the red-haired Campbell begins the attack, moving over the
roughest ground. The shouts of his men swell on the air. Shelby’s
troops respond, and then others, until the whole mountain is
enveloped in sound. Ferguson and his second, Capt. De Peyster,[13]
hear the outcries. Ferguson’s mind is touched with fear of defeat.
De Peyster says, “These things are ominous.” Soon, Campbell, nearly
at the hill-top, opens a deadly fire, and quickly the shrill notes of
Ferguson’s whistle, inciting the British to battle, mingle with the
roll of his drums. Campbell is forced to retreat down the mountain
to its very foot, so fierce is the bayonet charge of regulars and
Tories. But he rallies his men and again they ascend, driving back
their enemy. Lacey and Hill, with their troops, join in the conflict.
The left center, under Shelby, is almost to the summit, and pours
hot volleys through the slight defences, putting Ferguson’s person
in danger. De Peyster confronts the assailants, charges them with
bayonets, and Shelby also is compelled down the mountain. Back from
successful repulse of his foes, De Peyster returns to repel the
“brave and gentle Cleveland,” Chronicle and Hambright. Chronicle is
slain, and Williams dies, fighting bravely. Meanwhile, Campbell,
McDowell and Shelby, on the other side of the mountain are again
ascending, in conflict with Tory riflemen, shouting, “Huzza, boys!”
as they advance. Sevier has gained the hill-top. He presses the
British center, and is charged by the regulars but holds his ground.
As the combat deepens about him, Campbell and Shelby have won to the
summit. Then all the contending forces are face to face, and there
is a general _melee_--firing with guns and charging with bayonets.
Bailie Peyton says that at the first of the conflict “the mountain
appeared volcanic; there flashed along its summit and around its
base and up its sides one long sulphurous blaze.” Judge Haywood says
that at a later moment “the mountain was covered with flame and
smoke, and seemed to thunder.”
Soon the end of the battle is at hand, and all is a more violent
storm of strife and tumult, freighted with wounds and death. Ferguson
is in the midst of it, calmly courageous but restlessly active. He
is here and there all over the field--wounded in his right hand,
but heedless of personal danger--giving courage to others as he
goes, and bearing the silver whistle, whose sharp sound quickens his
men’s pulses to the fray. He orders the cavalry into action and his
regulars to charge, but at last, in vain. The Americans press him
on all sides into ever narrowing limits. A white flag goes up from
the Tories and he pulls it down. Another is raised at a distance,
and quickly he is there to level it with the dust. A surrender is
suggested to him by friends, repeatedly, but he will not listen to
it. He _will not_ give up his sword to men whom, with a curse, he
calls “banditti”: but he will escape by cutting his way through the
hostile ranks with a sword in his left hand. Two officers join him in
the attempt. Dashing at a weaker point in the Whig lines, he strikes
with his sword until it is broken, and falls, pierced with bullets.
Instantly De Peyster surrenders. The battle is finished. It was about
an hour long.
In the confusion that followed, the Whigs ceased not at once from
firing. The British called for quarter, but kept their weapons. The
fearless Shelby galloped up to their lines and commanded, if they
wanted quarter, to lay down their arms. Perhaps animosity against
the Tories would not die in some Whigs as soon as white flags were
raised, for wars between neighbors are apt to be next in bitterness
to religious wars. Some allowance also is to be made for the
difficulty of self-restraint common to men in the heat of passion and
strife. Their destructive zeal is slow to abate. Col. Campbell had
to cry out to his men, “Don’t shoot!” “Cease firing!” and actively
to promote mercy; but when De Peyster profanely complained to him
of the unfairness, he declined with dignity, to reply, except by
ordering the prisoners into position. The victory was complete. Of
the soldiers composing Ferguson’s army, two-thirds were prisoners and
the other third were killed and wounded in nearly equal numbers. Of
the Americans, twenty-eight were killed and sixty-two wounded. Eight
days after the battle the conquerors began their march westward.
They had received information, which proved untrue, that Tarleton, a
bold, skillful and ruthless British officer, was advancing upon them.
On the contrary, Cornwallis and Tarleton were fleeing at the time
from Charlotte to South Carolina, in fear that the mountaineers by
thousands were about to assail them. The intention and hope of the
British commander to bring North Carolina, and then Virginia, into
like subjection with South Carolina and Georgia, were frustrated by
the defeat of Ferguson. It disheartened Tories who had openly taken
sides with the British, and deterred others from following their
example. At the same time the victory of the Whigs inspirited their
friends everywhere. Their revived faith in the final success of the
Colonies, moved them to more hopeful effort in its behalf.
The uprising of the mountaineers--so spontaneous and yet so
deliberate--their cheerful march over natural difficulties,
their eager and persevering pursuit of a formidable enemy, their
well-planned and swiftly executed attack on his chosen ground--all
these combined, give their enterprise a high place in military
annals. Add to them the great need at that time to the struggling
Colonies of the victory they won and its important good results, and
its title to the niche of fame it fills in the temple of American
history, cannot be impeached. It turned the tide of battle. It led
the way to the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, and then to
peace with Great Britain. The king and his counselors were already
discouraged by military reverses and tired of their vain efforts
for seven years to conquer. They were compelled to acknowledge the
independence of the United States.