HOW TOM DEERING FOUGHT WITH GATES AT CAMDEN
NEEDLESS to say, Marion received the news of Williamsburg’s offer with
great satisfaction; it was a relief to him to secure a command of his
own, and he made ready to set off with his tattered horsemen, to assume
control. With this new body came the commission of colonel, after a few
days, from Governor Rutledge.
When his small company were ready to leave the camp of Gates, that
officer gave Marion strict instructions as to the best means of
rendering him service. The fancy of Gates already beheld the squadrons
of Cornwallis in full flight; and it is a fact that his greatest
solicitude at this time seems to have been how to secure his captives.
“As you march south, colonel,” said he to Marion, “I want you to make
it your special duty to destroy all the scows, boats, ferry-flats
and barges on your route. The enemy must be deprived of the means of
escaping.”
“Very well,” returned Marion, “I will do all I can in this or any other
line, general, to aid you.”
But afterward he remarked to Tom, who was his trusted confidant:
“He never seems to have heard of the barnyard proverb, ‘Don’t count
your chickens before they are hatched.’ In his fancy he has met the
British and routed them on every hand. It promises badly for the army,
my lad.”
“Can we do nothing, sir?”
“I fear not. General Gates is not the man to tolerate interference. If
he were more open to advice he would be a much safer leader.”
With the departure of Marion the better genius of Gates left him.
The British, under Lords Rawdon and Cornwallis, were in possession
of Camden, a small town upon the east bank of the Wateree; and Gates
conceived the idea of surprising them. On the night of the 15th of
August he left his camp at Rugely’s Mills and advanced toward Camden.
Upon the same night the British made a move to surprise Gates; so,
almost before they knew it, the vanguards of the two armies met in the
darkness near a small stream of water known as Sanders Creek.
Before breaking his camp Gates had sent to Marion for a few horsemen
who knew the country; and Marion had sent Tom and Cole to lend what
aid they could. These two were in the advance guard of the American
army when it encountered that of the British. Tom’s big chestnut horse
Sultan, up to his knees in the waters of Sanders Creek, was the first
to note the approach of the enemy; he cocked his ears, threw up his
head and snorted.
“What is it, boy?” said Tom, his eyes running over the ground before
him as well as the darkness would permit. As though in answer there
came a scattering of rifle-shots and a “pinging” of the leaden
messengers about his ears.
He wheeled and rode back to the banks. Saluting the captain in command,
he reported:
“The enemy, sir, seem to be on the other side of the creek.”
The captain was inexperienced and very nervous.
“What force is there?” asked he.
“Could not make out, sir, because of the darkness. Shall I cross and
try to find out?”
“If you think it safe,” said the captain.
“That it is necessary is enough for me,” returned Tom, proudly.
He spurred Sultan into the water once more, and under cover of the
night crossed the stream. A long line of British cavalry was stretched
directly in front; they had, undoubtedly, sent word back to their
main body and were now waiting for orders. Tom dismounted and took a
long observation of the foe’s position; when at last he remounted and
crossed the creek once more, he found that General Gates himself had
ridden forward and was anxiously awaiting his report.
“Their advance is stretched all along the stream, sir,” said the lad,
saluting. “And from indications their main body is coming up rapidly.”
A hasty inspection of the ground caused Gates to order his force to
fall back upon some plantations in their rear; the British, not at all
sure of what was awaiting them, did not cross the creek; and thus the
two armies lay upon their weapons waiting for daybreak. At the first
graying of the eastern heavens the British were forming to advance, and
the Americans were rapidly making ready to receive them. If there was
any advantage it was in favor of Cornwallis. His force was composed of
veterans, who would be cool under most exigencies, while Gates’ army
was, for the greater part, made up of raw volunteers.
The First Maryland division, including the Delawares under De Kalb,
were posted on the right; the Virginia militia were on the left; the
North Carolinians, led by the gallant Caswell were in the center, while
the artillery, in battery, was in the road. Such was the formation of
the American line; both wings rested upon morasses; the Second Maryland
brigade was posted as a reserve a few hundred yards in the rear of the
first.
The battle began with the advance of the American left--the Virginians,
under Stevens. A galling rifle fire was suddenly poured into them;
struck by sudden panic they turned and fled, many of them not having
even discharged their pieces. This wretched example was followed by
the North Carolina division in the centre, with the exception of a
single corps commanded by Major Dixon. The small body of cavalry, under
Armond, a foreign adventurer, broke at the same moment.
Tom Deering had been detained by the commander to carry messages and
orders to different parts of the field; he saw the rout, and with
sinking heart he strove to rally the fleeing militia, riding among
them, waving his sabre and shouting desperately for them to stand and
reform.
“Are you cowards to run at the first fire?” he shouted. “Rally, men;
strike a blow for freedom and your native state.”
For very shame some of the fugitives halted, and Tom began rapidly
reforming them. But, just then, the British cavalry plunged forward,
and the hope of staying the panic was gone forever. The devoted
Continentals--Maryland and Delaware troops, all trained soldiers--bore
the brunt of the action. De Kalb was at their head, for Gates had
ridden away to the rear in the desperate hope of rallying the militia;
the artillery was in the hands of the enemy, and the regulars who
continued to stand fast numbered but nine hundred, as opposed to two
thousand of the best troops in the British service.
But these stout hearts, undismayed by the flight of their comrades, not
only resisted the attack of the enemy, but actually carried the bayonet
into their ranks. The combatants rushed and reeled with locked weapons;
but the struggle could not last, for when the British cavalry returned
from pursuing the fugitives their sabres gave the finishing stroke to
the affair. The heroic De Kalb fell, pierced by fourteen wounds, and
at the fall of their leader the rank and file broke and fled from the
field, leaving everything behind them.
When darkness closed in once more it found General Gates, with a
shattered remnant of his once formidable force, flying along the roads
toward North Carolina. As for Tom Deering, he was on his way through
the swamps to rejoin Marion, his eyes full of unshed tears and his
heart full of the bitterness that comes with defeat.