The British in the Southern States.

During the Revolutionary war the men of the west for the most part took no share in the actual campaigning against the British and Hessians.  Their duty was to conquer and hold the wooded wilderness that stretched westward to the Mississippi; and to lay therein the foundations of many future commonwealths.  Yet at a crisis in the great struggle for liberty, at one of the darkest hours for the patriot cause, it was given to a band of western men to come to the relief of their brethren of the seaboard and to strike a telling and decisive blow for all America.  When the three southern provinces lay crushed and helpless at the feet of Cornwallis, the Holston backwoodsmen suddenly gathered to assail the triumphant conqueror.  Crossing the mountains that divided them from the beaten and despairing people of the tidewater region, they killed the ablest lieutenant of the British commander, and at a single stroke undid all that he had done.

By the end of 1779 the British had reconquered Georgia.  In May, 1780, they captured Charleston, speedily reduced all South Carolina to submission, and then marched into the old North State.  Cornwallis, much the ablest of the British generals, was in command over a mixed force of British, Hessian, and loyal American regulars, aided by Irish volunteers and bodies of refugees from Florida.  In addition, the friends to the king’s cause, who were very numerous in the southernmost States, rose at once on the news of the British successes, and thronged to the royal standards; so that a number of regiments of tory militia were soon embodied.  McGillivray, the Creek chief, sent bands of his warriors to assist the British and tories on the frontier, and the Cherokees likewise came to their help.  The patriots for the moment abandoned hope, and bowed before their victorious foes.

Cornwallis himself led the main army northward against the American forces.  Meanwhile he entrusted to two of his most redoubtable officers the task of scouring the country, raising the loyalists, scattering the patriot troops that were still embodied, and finally crushing out all remaining opposition.  These two men were Tarleton the dashing cavalryman, and Ferguson the rifleman, the skilled partisan leader.

    Colonel Ferguson.

Patrick Ferguson, the son of Lord Pitfour, was a Scotch soldier, at this time about thirty-six years old, who had been twenty years in the British army.  He had served with distinction against the French in Germany, had quelled a Carib uprising in the West Indies, and in 1777 was given the command of a company of riflemen in the army opposed to Washington. He played a good part at Brandywine and Monmouth.  At the former battle he was wounded by an American sharpshooter, and had an opportunity, of which he forbore taking advantage, to himself shoot an American officer of high rank, who unsuspectingly approached the place where he lay hid; he always insisted that the man he thus spared was no less a person than Washington.  While suffering from his wound, Sir William Howe disbanded his rifle corps, distributing it among the light companies of the different regiments; and its commander in consequence became an unattached volunteer in the army.  But he was too able to be allowed to remain long unemployed.  When the British moved to New York he was given the command of several small independent expeditions, and was successful in each case; once, in particular, he surprised and routed Pulaski’s legion, committing great havoc with the bayonet, which was always with him a favorite weapon.  His energy and valor attracted much attention; and when a British army was sent against Charleston and the South he went along, as a lieutenant-colonel of a recently raised regular regiment, known as the American Volunteers.

Cornwallis speedily found him to be peculiarly fitted for just such service as was needed; for he possessed rare personal qualities.  He was of middle height and slender build, with a quiet, serious face and a singularly winning manner; and withal, he was of literally dauntless courage, of hopeful, eager temper, and remarkably fertile in shifts and expedients.  He was particularly fond of night attacks, surprises, and swift, sudden movements generally, and was unwearied in drilling and disciplining his men.  Not only was he an able leader, but he was also a finished horseman, and the best marksman with both pistol and rifle in the British army.  Being of quick, inventive mind, he constructed a breech-loading rifle, which he used in battle with deadly effect.  This invention had been one of the chief causes of his being brought into prominence in the war against America, for the British officers especially dreaded the American sharpshooters. It would be difficult to imagine a better partisan leader, or one more fitted by his feats of prowess and individual skill, to impress the minds of his followers.  Moreover, his courtesy stood him in good stead with the people of the country; he was always kind and civil, and would spend hours in talking affairs over with them and pointing out the mischief of rebelling against their lawful sovereign.  He soon became a potent force in winning the doubtful to the British side, and exerted a great influence over the tories; they gathered eagerly to his standard, and he drilled them with patient perseverance.

After the taking of Charleston Ferguson’s volunteers and Tarleton’s legion, acting separately or together, speedily destroyed the different bodies of patriot soldiers.  Their activity and energy was such that the opposing commanders seemed for the time being quite unable to cope with them, and the American detachments were routed and scattered in quick succession. On one of these occasions, the surprise at Monk’s Corners, where the American commander, Huger, was slain, Ferguson’s troops again had a chance to show their skill in the use of the bayonet.

Tarleton did his work with brutal ruthlessness; his men plundered and ravaged, maltreated prisoners, outraged women, and hung without mercy all who were suspected of turning from the loyalist to the whig side.  His victories were almost always followed by massacres; in particular, when he routed with small loss a certain Captain Buford, his soldiers refused to grant quarter, and mercilessly butchered the beaten.  Americans.

Ferguson, on the contrary, while quite as valiant and successful a commander, showed a generous heart, and treated the inhabitants of the country fairly well.  He was especially incensed at any outrage upon women, punishing the offender with the utmost severity, and as far as possible he spared his conquered foes.  Yet even Ferguson’s tender mercies must have seemed cruel to the whigs, as may be judged by the following extract from a diary kept by one of his lieutenants:  “This day Col.  Ferguson got the rear guard in order to do his King and country justice, by protecting friends and widows, and destroying rebel property; also to collect live stock for the use of the army.  All of which we effect as we go by destroying furniture, breaking windows, etc., taking all their horned cattle, horses, mules, sheep, etc., and their negroes to drive them.”  When such were the authorized proceedings of troops under even the most merciful of the British commanders, it is easy to guess what deeds were done by uncontrolled bodies of stragglers bent on plunder.

When Ferguson moved into the back country of the two Carolinas still worse outrages followed.  In the three southernmost of the thirteen rebellious colonies there was a very large tory party. In consequence the struggle in the Carolinas and Georgia took the form of a ferocious civil war.  Each side in turn followed up its successes by a series of hangings and confiscations, while the lawless and violent characters fairly revelled in the confusion.  Neither side can be held guiltless of many and grave misdeeds; but for reasons already given the bulk ­but by no means the whole ­of the criminal and disorderly classes espoused the king’s cause in the regions where the struggle was fiercest.  They murdered, robbed, or drove off the whigs in their hour of triumph; and in turn brought down ferocious reprisals on their own heads and on those of their luckless associates.

Moreover Cornwallis and his under-officers tried to cow and overawe the inhabitants by executing some of the men whom they deemed the chief and most criminal leaders of the rebellion, especially such as had sworn allegiance and then again taken up arms; of course retaliation in kind followed.  Ferguson himself hung some men; and though he did his best to spare the country people, there was much plundering and murdering by his militia.

In June he marched to upper South Carolina, moving to and fro, calling out the loyal militia.  They responded enthusiastically, and three or four thousand tories were embodied in different bands.  Those who came to Ferguson’s own standard were divided into companies and regiments, and taught the rudiments of discipline by himself and his subalterns.  He soon had a large but fluctuating force under him; in part composed of good men, loyal adherents of the king (these being very frequently recent arrivals from England, or else Scotch highlanders), in part also of cut-throats, horse-thieves, and desperadoes of all kinds who wished for revenge on the whigs and were eager to plunder them.  His own regular force was also mainly composed of Americans, although it contained many Englishmen.  His chief subordinates were Lieutenant-Colonels De Peyster and Cruger; the former usually serving under him, the latter commanding at Ninety-Six.  They were both New York loyalists, members of old Knickerbocker families; for in New York many of the gentry and merchants stood by the king.

    Ferguson Approaches the Mountains.

Ferguson moved rapidly from place to place, breaking up the bodies of armed whigs; and the latter now and then skirmished fiercely with similar bands of tories, sometimes one side winning sometimes the other.  Having reduced South Carolina to submission the British commander then threatened North Carolina; and Col.  McDowell, the commander of the whig militia in that district, sent across the mountains to the Holston men praying that they would come to his help.  Though suffering continually from Indian ravages, and momentarily expecting a formidable inroad, they responded nobly to the call.  Sevier remained to patrol the border and watch the Cherokees, while Isaac Shelby crossed the mountains with a couple of hundred mounted riflemen, early in July.  The mountain men were joined by McDowell, with whom they found also a handful of Georgians and some South Carolinians; who when their States were subdued had fled northward, resolute to fight their oppressors to the last.

The arrival of the mountain men put new life into the dispirited whigs.  On July 30th a mixed force, under Shelby and two or three local militia colonels, captured Thickett’s fort, with ninety tories, near the Pacolet.  They then camped at the Cherokee ford of Broad River, and sent out parties of mounted men to carry on a guerilla or partisan warfare against detachments, not choosing to face Ferguson’s main body.  After a while they moved south to Cedar Spring.  Here, on the 8th of August, they were set upon by Ferguson’s advanced guard, of dragoons and mounted riflemen.  These they repulsed, handling the British rather roughly; but, as Ferguson himself came up, they fled, and though he pursued them vigorously he could not overtake them.

On the 18th of the month the mountain men, assisted as usual by some parties of local militia, all under their various colonels, performed another feat; one of those swift, sudden strokes so dear to the hearts of these rifle-bearing horsemen.  It was of a kind peculiarly suited to their powers; for they were brave and hardy, able to thread their way unerringly through the forests, and fond of surprises; and though they always fought on foot, they moved on horseback, and therefore with great celerity.  Their operations should be carefully studied by all who wish to learn the possibilities of mounted riflemen.  Yet they were impatient of discipline or of regular service, and they really had no one commander.  The different militia officers combined to perform some definite piece of work, but, like their troops, they were incapable of long-continued campaigns; and there were frequent and bitter quarrels between the several commanders, as well as between the bodies of men they led.

It seems certain that the mountaineers were, as a rule, more formidable fighters than the lowland militia, beside or against whom they battled; and they formed the main strength of the attacking party that left the camp at the Cherokee ford before sunset on the 17th.  Ferguson’s army was encamped southwest of them, at Fair Forest Shoals; they marched round him, and went straight on, leaving him in their rear.  Sometimes they rode through open forest, more often they followed the dim wood roads; their horses pacing or cantering steadily through the night.  As the day dawned they reached Musgrove’s Ford, on the Enoree, having gone forty miles.  Here they hoped to find a detachment of tory militia; but it had been joined by a body of provincial regulars, the united force being probably somewhat more numerous than that of the Americans.  The latter were discovered by a patrol, and the British after a short delay marched out to attack them.  The Americans in the meantime made good use of their axes, felling trees for a breastwork, and when assailed they beat back and finally completely routed their assailants. [Footnote:  Shelby’s account of this action, written in his old age, is completely at fault; he not only exaggerates the British force and loss, but he likewise greatly overestimates the number of the Americans ­always a favorite trick of his.  Each of the militia colonels of course claimed the chief share of the glory of the day.  Haywood, Ramsey, and even Phelan simply follow Shelby.  Draper gives all the different accounts; it is quite impossible to reconcile them; but all admit that the British were defeated.

I have used the word “British”; but though there were some Englishmen and Scotchmen among the tories and provincials, they were mainly loyalist Americans.] However, the victory was of little effect, for just as it was won word was brought to Shelby that the day before Cornwallis had met Gates at Camden, and had not only defeated but practically destroyed the American army; and on the very day of the fight on the Enoree, Tarleton surprised Sumter, and scattered his forces to the four winds.  The panic among the whigs was tremendous, and the mountaineers shared it.  They knew that Ferguson, angered at the loss of his detachment, would soon be in hot pursuit, and there was no time for delay.  The local militia made off in various directions; while Shelby and his men pushed straight for the mountains, crossed them, and returned each man to his own home.  Ferguson speedily stamped out the few remaining sparks of rebellion in South Carolina, and crossing the boundary into the North State he there repeated the process.  On September 12th he caught McDowell and the only remaining body of militia at Cane Creek, of the Catawba, and beat them thoroughly, the survivors, including their commander, fleeing over the mountains to take refuge with the Holston men.  Except for an occasional small guerilla party there was not a single organized body of American troops left south of Gates’ broken and dispirited army.

All the southern lands lay at the feet of the conquerors.  The British leaders, overbearing and arrogant, held almost unchecked sway throughout the Carolinas and Georgia; and looking northward they made ready for the conquest of Virginia. Their right flank was covered by the waters of the ocean, their left by the high mountain barrier-chains, beyond which stretched the interminable forest; and they had as little thought of danger from one side as from the other.

    The Mountaineers Gather to the Attack.

Suddenly and without warning, the wilderness sent forth a swarm of stalwart and hardy riflemen, of whose very existence the British had hitherto been ignorant. Riders spurring in hot haste brought word to the king’s commanders that the backwater men had come over the mountains.  The Indian fighters of the frontier, leaving unguarded their homes on the western waters, had crossed by wooded and precipitous defiles, and were pouring down to the help of their brethren of the plains.

Ferguson had pushed his victories to the foot of the Smoky and the Yellow mountains.  Here he learned, perhaps for the first time, that there were a few small settlements beyond the high ranges he saw in his front; and he heard that some of these backwoods mountaineers had already borne arms against him, and were now harboring men who had fled from before his advance.  By a prisoner whom he had taken he at once sent them warning to cease their hostilities, and threatened that if they did not desist he would march across the mountains, hang their leaders, put their fighting men to the sword, and waste their settlements with fire.  He had been joined by refugee tories from the Watauga, who could have piloted him thither; and perhaps he intended to make his threats good.  It seems more likely that he paid little heed to the mountaineers, scorning their power to do him hurt; though he did not regard them with the haughty and ignorant disdain usually felt for such irregulars by the British army officers.

When the Holston men learned that Ferguson had come to the other side of the mountains, and threatened their chiefs with the halter and their homes with the torch, a flame of passionate anger was kindled in all their hearts.  They did not wait for his attack; they sallied from their strongholds to meet him.  Their crops were garnered, their young men were ready for the march; and though the Otari war bands lowered like thunder-clouds on their southern border, they determined to leave only enough men to keep the savages at bay for the moment, and with the rest to overwhelm Ferguson before he could retreat out of their reach.  Hitherto the war with the British had been something afar off; now it had come to their thresholds and their spirits rose to the danger.

Shelby was the first to hear the news.  He at once rode down to Sevier’s home on the Nolichucky; for they were the two county lieutenants, who had control of all the militia of the district.  At Sevier’s log-house there was feasting and merry-making, for he had given a barbecue, and a great horse race was to be run, while the backwoods champions tried their skill as marksmen and wrestlers.  In the midst of the merry-making Shelby appeared, hot with hard riding, to tell of the British advance, and to urge that the time was ripe for fighting, not feasting.  Sevier at once entered heartily into his friend’s plan, and agreed to raise his rifle-rangers, and gather the broken and disorganized refugees who had fled across the mountains under McDowell.  While this was being done Shelby returned to his home to call out his own militia and to summon the Holston Virginians to his aid.  With the latter purpose he sent one of his brothers to Arthur Campbell, the county lieutenant of his neighbors across the border.  Arthur at once proceeded to urge the adoption of the plan on his cousin, William Campbell, who had just returned from a short and successful campaign against the tories round the head of the Kanawha, where he had speedily quelled an attempted uprising.

Gates had already sent William Campbell an earnest request to march down with his troops and join the main army.  This he could not do, as his militia had only been called out to put down their own internal foes, and their time of service had expired. But the continued advance of the British at last thoroughly alarmed the Virginians of the mountain region.  They promptly set about raising a corps of riflemen, and as soon as this course of action was determined on Campbell was foremost in embodying all the Holston men who could be spared, intending to march westward and join any Virginia army that might be raised to oppose Cornwallis.  While thus employed he received Shelby’s request, and, for answer, at first sent word that he could not change his plans; but on receiving a second and more urgent message he agreed to come as desired.

The appointed meeting-place was at the Sycamore Shoals of the Watauga.  There the riflemen gathered on the 25th of September, Campbell bringing four hundred men, Sevier and Shelby two hundred and forty each, while the refugees under McDowell amounted to about one hundred and sixty.  With Shelby came his two brothers, one of whom was afterwards slightly wounded at King’s Mountain; while Sevier had in his regiment no less than six relations of his own name, his two sons being privates, and his two brothers captains.  One of the latter was mortally wounded in the battle.

To raise money for provisions Sevier and Shelby were obliged to take, on their individual guaranties, the funds in the entry-taker’s offices that had been received from the sale of lands.  They amounted in all to nearly thirteen thousand dollars, every dollar of which they afterward refunded.

    The March to the Battle.

On the 26th they began the march, over a thousand strong, most of them mounted on swift, wiry horses.  They were led by leaders they trusted, they were wonted to Indian warfare, they were skilled as horsemen and marksmen, they knew how to face every kind of danger, hardship, and privation.  Their fringed and tasselled hunting-shirts were girded in by bead-worked belts, and the trappings of their horses were stained red and yellow.  On their heads they wore caps of coon-skin or mink-skin, with the tails hanging down, or else felt hats, in each of which was thrust a buck-tail or a sprig of evergreen.  Every man carried a small-bore rifle, a tomahawk, and a scalping knife.  A very few of the officers had swords, and there was not a bayonet nor a tent in the army. Before leaving their camping-ground at the Sycamore Shoals they gathered in an open grove to hear a stern old Presbyterian preacher invoke on the enterprise the blessing of Jéhovah.  Leaning on their long rifles, they stood in rings round the black-frocked minister, a grim and wild congregation, who listened in silence to his words of burning zeal as he called on them to stand stoutly in the battle and to smite their foes with the sword of the Lord and of Gideon.

The army marched along Doe River, driving their beef cattle with them, and camped that night at the “Resting-Place,” under Shelving Rock, beyond Crab Orchard.  Next morning they started late, and went up the pass between Roan and Yellow mountains.  The table-land on the top was deep in snow. Here two tories who were in Sevier’s band deserted and fled to warn Ferguson; and the troops, on learning of the desertion, abandoned their purpose of following the direct route, and turned to the left, taking a more northerly trail.  It was of so difficult a character that Shelby afterwards described it as “the worst route ever followed by an army of horsemen.” That afternoon they partly descended the east side of the range, camping in Elk Hollow, near Roaring Run.  The following day they went down through the ravines and across the spurs by a stony and precipitous path, in the midst of magnificent scenery, and camped at the mouth of Grassy Creek.  On the 29th they crossed the Blue Ridge at Gillespie’s Gap, and saw afar off, in the mountain coves and rich valleys of the upper Catawba, the advanced settlements of the Carolina pioneers, ­for hitherto they had gone through an uninhabited waste.  The mountaineers, fresh from their bleak and rugged hills, gazed with delight on the soft and fertile beauty of the landscape.  That night they camped on the North Fork of the Catawba, and next day they went down the river to Quaker Meadows, McDowell’s home.

At this point they were joined by three hundred and fifty North Carolina militia from the counties of Wilkes and Surrey, who were creeping along through the woods hoping to fall in with some party going to harass the enemy. They were under Col.  Benjamin Cleavland, a mighty hunter and Indian fighter, and an adventurous wanderer in the wilderness.  He was an uneducated backwoodsman, famous for his great size, and his skill with the rifle, no less than for the curious mixture of courage, rough good humor, and brutality in his character.  He bore a ferocious hatred to the royalists, and in the course of the vindictive civil war carried on between the whigs and tories in North Carolina he suffered much.  In return he persecuted his public and private foes with ruthless ferocity, hanging and mutilating any tories against whom the neighboring whigs chose to bear evidence.  As the fortunes of the war veered about he himself received many injuries.  His goods were destroyed, and his friends and relations were killed or had their ears cropped off.  Such deeds often repeated roused to a fury of revenge his fierce and passionate nature, to which every principle of self-control was foreign.  He had no hope of redress, save in his own strength and courage, and on every favorable opportunity he hastened to take more than ample vengeance.  Admitting all the wrongs he suffered, it still remains true that many of his acts of brutality were past excuse.  His wife was a worthy helpmeet.  Once, in his absence, a tory horse-thief was brought to their home, and after some discussion the captors, Cleavland’s sons, turned to their mother, who was placidly going on with her ordinary domestic avocations, to know what they should do with the prisoner.  Taking from her mouth the corn-cob pipe she had been smoking, she coolly sentenced him to be hung, and hung he was without further delay or scruple. Yet Cleavland was a good friend and neighbor, devoted to his country, and also a staunch Presbyterian.

The tories were already on the alert.  Some of them had been harassing Cleavland, and they had ambushed his advance guard, and shot his brother, crippling him for life.  But they did not dare try to arrest the progress of so formidable a body of men as had been gathered together at Quaker Meadows; and contented themselves with sending repeated warnings to Ferguson.

On October 1st the combined forces marched past Pilot Mountain, and camped near the heads of Cane and Silver creeks.  Hitherto each colonel had commanded his own men, there being no general head, and every morning and evening the colonels had met in concert to decide the day’s movements.  The whole expedition was one of volunteers, the agreement between the officers and the obedience rendered them by the soldiers simply depending on their own free-will; there was no legal authority on which to go, for the commanders had called out the militia without any instructions from the executives of their several States. Disorders had naturally broken out.  The men of the different companies felt some rivalry towards one another; and those of bad character, sure to be found in any such gathering, could not be properly controlled.  Some of Cleavland’s and McDowell’s people were very unruly; and a few of the Watauga troops also behaved badly, plundering both whigs and tories, and even starting to drive the stolen stock back across the mountains.

At so important a crisis the good-sense and sincere patriotism of the men in command made them sink all personal and local rivalries.  On the 2d of October they all gathered to see what could be done to stop the disorders and give the army a single head; for it was thought that in a day or two they would close in with Ferguson.  They were in Col.  Charles McDowell’s district, and he was the senior officer; but the others distrusted his activity and judgment, and were not willing that he should command.  To solve the difficulty Shelby proposed that supreme command should be given to Col.  Campbell, who had brought the largest body of men with him, and who was a Virginian, whereas the other four colonels were North Carolinians. Meanwhile McDowell should go to Gates’ army to get a general to command them, leaving his men under the charge of his brother Joseph, who was a major.  This proposition was at once agreed to; and its adoption did much to ensure the subsequent success.  Shelby not only acted wisely, but magnanimously; for he was himself of superior rank to Campbell, and moreover was a proud, ambitious man, desirous of military glory.

The army had been joined by two or three squads of partisans, including some refugee Georgians.  They were about to receive a larger reinforcement; for at this time several small guerilla bands of North and South Carolina whigs were encamped at Flint Hill, some distance west of the encampment of the mountain men.  These Flint Hill bands numbered about four hundred men all told, under the leadership of various militia colonels ­Hill, Lacey, Williams, Graham, and Hambright. Hill and Lacey were two of Sumter’s lieutenants, and had under them some of his men; Williams, who was also a South Carolinian, claimed command of them because he had just been commissioned a brigadier-general of militia.  His own force was very small, and he did not wish to attack Ferguson, but to march southwards to Ninety-Six.  Sumter’s men, who were more numerous, were eager to join the mountaineers, and entirely refused to submit to Williams.  A hot quarrel, almost resulting in a fight, ensued; Hill and Lacey accusing Williams of being bent merely on plundering the wealthy tories and of desiring to avoid a battle with the British.  Their imputation on his courage was certainly unjust; but they were probably quite right when they accused him of a desire to rob and plunder the tories.  A succession of such quarrels speedily turned this assemblage of militia into an armed and warlike rabble.  Fortunately Hill and Lacey prevailed, word was sent to the mountaineers, and the Flint Hill bands marched in loose order to join them at the Cowpens.

The mountain army had again begun its march on the afternoon of the third day of the month.  Before starting the colonels summoned their men, told them the nature and danger of the service, and asked such as were unwilling to go farther to step to the rear; but not a man did so.  Then Shelby made them a short speech, well adapted to such a levy.  He told them when they encountered the enemy not to wait for the word of command, but each to “be his own officer,” and do all he could, sheltering himself as far as possible, and not to throw away a chance; if they came on the British in the woods they were “to give them Indian play,” and advance from tree to tree, pressing the enemy unceasingly.  He ended by promising them that their officers would shrink from no danger, but would lead them everywhere, and, in their turn, they must be on the alert and obey orders.

When they set out their uncertainty as to Ferguson’s movements caused them to go slowly, their scouts sometimes skirmishing with lurking tories.  They reached the mouth of Cane Creek, near Gilbert Town, on October 4th.  With the partisans that had joined them they then numbered fifteen hundred men.  McDowell left them at this point to go to Gates with the request for the appointment of a general to command them. For some days the men had been living on the ears of green corn which they plucked from the fields, but at this camping-place they slaughtered some beeves and made a feast.

The mountaineers had hoped to catch Ferguson at Gilbert Town, but they found that he had fled towards the northeast, so they followed after him.  Many of their horses were crippled and exhausted, and many of the footmen footsore and weary; and the next day they were able to go but a dozen miles to the ford of Green River.

That evening Campbell and his fellow-officers held a council to decide what course was best to follow.  Lacey, riding over from the militia companies who were marching from Flint Hill, had just reached their camp; he told them the direction in which Ferguson had fled, and at the same time appointed the Cowpens as the meeting-place for their respective forces.  Their whole army was so jaded that the leaders knew they could not possibly urge it on fast enough to overtake Ferguson, and the flight of the latter made them feel all the more confident that they could beat him, and extremely reluctant that he should get away.  In consequence they determined to take seven or eight hundred of the least tired, best armed, and best mounted men, and push rapidly after their foe, picking up on the way any militia they met, and leaving the other half of their army to follow as fast as it could.

At daybreak on the morning of the sixth the picked men set out, about seven hundred and fifty in number. In the afternoon they passed by several large bands of tories, who had assembled to join Ferguson; but the Holston men were resolute in their determination to strike at the latter, and would not be diverted from it, nor waste time by following their lesser enemies.

Riding all day they reached the Cowpens when the sun had already set, a few minutes after the arrival of the Flint Hill militia under Lacey, Hill, and Williams.  The tired troops were speedily engaged in skinning beeves for their supper, roasting them by the blazing camp-fires; and fifty acres of corn, belonging to the rich tory who owned the Cowpens, materially helped the meal.  Meanwhile a council was held, in which all the leading officers, save Williams, took part.  Campbell was confirmed as commander-in-chief, and it was decided to once more choose the freshest soldiers, and fall on Ferguson before he could either retreat or be reinforced.  The officers went round, picking out the best men, the best rifles, and the best horses.  Shortly after nine o’clock the choice had been made, and nine hundred and ten picked riflemen, well mounted, rode out of the circle of flickering firelight, and began their night journey.  A few determined footmen followed, going almost as fast as the horse, and actually reached the battle-field in season to do their share of the fighting.

    Ferguson Makes Ready.

All this time Ferguson had not been idle.  He first heard of the advance of the backwoodsmen on September 30th, from the two tories who deserted Sevier on Yellow Mountain.  He had furloughed many of his loyalists, as all formidable resistance seemed at an end; and he now sent out messengers in every direction to recall them to his standard.  Meanwhile he fell slowly back from the foot-hills, so that he might not have to face the mountaineers until he had time to gather his own troops.  He instantly wrote for reinforcements to Cruger, at Ninety-Six.  Cruger had just returned from routing the Georgian Colonel Clark, who was besieging Augusta.  In the chase a number of Americans were captured, and thirteen were hung.  The British and tories interpreted the already sufficiently severe instructions of their commander-in-chief with the utmost liberality, even the officers chronicling the hanging with exultant pleasure, as pointing out the true way by which to end the war.

Cruger, in his answer to Ferguson, explained that he did not have the number of militia regiments with which he was credited; and he did not seem to quite take in the gravity of the situation, expressing his pleasure at hearing how strongly the loyalists of North Carolina had rallied to Ferguson’s support, and speaking of the hope he had felt that the North Carolina tories would by themselves have proved “equal to the mountain lads.”  However, he promptly set about forwarding the reinforcements that were demanded; but before they could reach the scene of action the fate of the campaign had been decided.

Ferguson had not waited for outside help.  He threw himself into the work of rallying the people of the plains, who were largely loyalists, against the over-mountain men, appealing not only to their royalist sentiments, but to their strong local prejudices, and to the dread many of them felt for the wild border fighters.  On the 1st of October he sent out a proclamation, of which copies were scattered broadcast among the loyalists.  It was instinct with the fiery energy of the writer, and well suited to goad into action the rough tories, and the doubtful men, to whom it was addressed.  He told them that the Back Water men had crossed the mountains, with chieftains at their head who would surely grant mercy to none who had been loyal to the king.  He called on them to grasp their arms on the moment and run to his standard, if they desired to live and bear the name of men; to rally without delay, unless they wished to be eaten up by the incoming horde of cruel barbarians, to be themselves robbed and murdered, and to see their daughters and wives abused by the dregs of mankind.  In ending, he told them scornfully that if they chose to be spat upon and degraded forever by a set of mongrels, to say so at once, that their women might turn their backs on them and look out for real men to protect them.

Hoping to be joined by Cruger’s regiments, as well as by his own furloughed men, and the neighboring tories, he gradually drew off from the mountains, doubling and turning, so as to hide his route and puzzle his pursuers.  Exaggerated reports of the increase in the number of his foes were brought to him, and, as he saw how slowly they marched, he sent repeated messages to Cornwallis, asking for reinforcements; promising speedily to “finish the business,” if three or four hundred soldiers, part dragoons, were given him, for the Americans were certainly making their “last push in this quarter.” He was not willing to leave the many loyal inhabitants of the district to the vengeance of the whigs; and his hopes of reinforcements were well founded.  Every day furloughed men rejoined him, and bands of loyalists came into camp; and he was in momentary expectation of help from Cornwallis or Cruger.  It will be remembered that the mountaineers on their last march passed several tory bands.  One of these alone, near the Cowpens, was said to have contained six hundred men; and in a day or two they would all have joined Ferguson.  If the whigs had come on in a body, as there was every reason to expect, Ferguson would have been given the one thing he needed ­time; and he would certainly have been too strong for his opponents.  His defeat was due to the sudden push of the mountain chieftains; to their long, swift ride from the ford of Green River, at the head of their picked horse-riflemen.

The British were still in the dark as to the exact neighborhood from which their foes ­the “swarm of backwoodsmen,” as Tarleton called them ­really came.  It was generally supposed that they were in part from Kentucky, and that Boon himself was among the number. However, Ferguson probably cared very little who they were; and keeping, as he supposed, a safe distance away from them, he halted at King’s Mountain in South Carolina on the evening of October 6th, pitching his camp on a steep, narrow hill just south of the North Carolina boundary.  The King’s Mountain range itself is about sixteen miles in length, extending in a southwesterly course from one State into the other.  The stony, half isolated ridge on which Ferguson camped was some six or seven hundred yards long and half as broad from base to base, or two thirds that distance on top.  The steep sides were clad with a growth of open woods, including both saplings and big timber.  Ferguson parked his baggage wagons along the northeastern part of the mountain.  The next day he did not move; he was as near to the army of Cornwallis at Charlotte as to the mountaineers, and he thought it safe to remain where he was.  He deemed the position one of great strength, as indeed it would have been, if assailed in the ordinary European fashion; and he was confident that even if the rebels attacked him, he could readily beat them back.  But as General Lee, “Light-Horse Harry,” afterwards remarked, the hill was much easier assaulted with the rifle than defended with the bayonet.

The backwoodsmen, on leaving the camp at the Cowpens, marched slowly through the night, which was dark and drizzly; many of the men got scattered in the woods, but joined their commands in the morning ­the morning of October 7th.  The troops bore down to the southward, a little out of the straight route, to avoid any patrol parties; and at sunrise they splashed across the Cherokee Ford. Throughout the forenoon the rain continued but the troops pushed steadily onwards without halting, wrapping their blankets and the skirts of their hunting-shirts round their gun-locks, to keep them dry.  Some horses gave out, but their riders, like the thirty or forty footmen who had followed from the Cowpens, struggled onwards and were in time for the battle.  When near King’s Mountain they captured two tories, and from them learned Ferguson’s exact position; that “he was on a ridge between two branches,” where some deer hunters had camped the previous fall.  These deer hunters were now with the oncoming backwoodsmen, and declared that they knew the ground well.  Without halting, Campbell and the other colonels rode forward together, and agreed to surround the hill, so that their men might fire upwards without risk of hurting one another.  It was a bold plan; for they knew their foes probably outnumbered them; but they were very confident of their own prowess, and were anxious to strike a crippling blow.  From one or two other captured tories, and from a staunch whig friend, they learned the exact disposition of the British and loyalist force, and were told that their noted leader wore a light, parti-colored hunting-shirt; and he was forthwith doomed to be a special target for the backwoods rifles.  When within a mile of the hill a halt was called, and after a hasty council of the different colonels ­in which Williams did not take part, ­the final arrangements were made, and the men, who had been marching in loose order, were formed in line of battle.  They then rode forward in absolute silence, and when close to the west slope of the battle-hill, beyond King’s Creek, drew rein and dismounted.  They tied their horses to trees, and fastened their great coats and blankets to the saddles, for the rain had cleared away.  A few of the officers remained mounted.  The countersign of the day was “Buford,” the name of the colonel whose troops Tarleton had defeated and butchered.  The final order was for each man to look carefully at the priming of his rifle, and then to go into battle and fight till he died.

    The Battle.

The foes were now face to face.  On the one side were the American backwoodsmen, under their own leaders, armed in their own manner, and fighting after their own fashion, for the freedom and the future of America; on the opposite side were other Americans ­the loyalists, led by British officers, armed and trained in the British fashion, and fighting on behalf of the empire of Britain and the majesty of the monarchy.  The Americans numbered, all told, about nine hundred and fifty men. The British forces were composed in bulk of the Carolina loyalists ­troops similar to the Americans who joined the mountaineers at Quaker Meadows and the Cowpens; the difference being that besides these low-land militia, there were arrayed on one side the men from the Holston, Watauga, and Nolichucky, and on the other the loyalist regulars.  Ferguson had, all told, between nine hundred and a thousand troops, a hundred and twenty or thirty of them being the regulars or “American Volunteers,” the remainder tory militia. The forces were very nearly equal in number.  What difference there was, was probably in favor of the British and tories.  There was not a bayonet in the American army, whereas Ferguson trusted much to this weapon.  All his volunteers and regulars were expert in its use, and with his usual ingenuity he had trained several of his loyalist companies in a similar manner, improvising bayonets out of their hunting-knives.  The loyalists whom he had had with him for some time were well drilled.  The North Carolina regiment was weaker on this point, as it was composed of recruits who had joined him but recently.

The Americans were discovered by their foes when only a quarter of a mile away.  They had formed their forces as they marched.  The right centre was composed of Campbell’s troops; the left centre of Shelby’s.  These two bodies separated slightly so as to come up opposite sides of the narrow southwestern spur of the mountain.  The right wing was led by Sevier, with his own and McDowell’s troops.  On the extreme right Major Winston, splitting off from the main body a few minutes before, had led a portion of Cleavland’s men by a roundabout route to take the mountain in the rear, and cut off all retreat.  He and his followers “rode like fox-hunters,” as was afterwards reported by one of their number who was accustomed to following the buck and the gray fox with horn and hound.  They did not dismount until they reached the foot of the mountain, galloping at full speed through the rock-strewn woods; and they struck exactly the right place, closing up the only gap by which the enemy could have retreated.  The left wing was led by Cleavland.  It contained not only the bulk of his own Wilkes and Surrey men, but also the North and South Carolinians who had joined the army at the Cowpens under the command of Williams, Lacey, Hambright, Chronicle, and others. The different leaders cheered on their troops by a few last words as they went into the fight; being especially careful to warn them how to deal with the British bayonet charges.  Campbell had visited each separate band, again requesting every man who felt like flinching not to go into the battle.  He bade them hold on to every inch of ground as long as possible, and when forced back to rally and return at once to the fight.  Cleavland gave much the same advice; telling his men that when once engaged they were not to wait for the word of command, but to do as he did, for he would show them by his example how to fight, and they must then act as their own officers.  The men were to fire quickly, and stand their ground as long as possible, if necessary sheltering themselves behind trees.  If they could do no better they were to retreat, but not to run quite off; but to return and renew the struggle, for they might have better luck at the next attempt.

So rapid were the movements of the Americans, and so unexpected the attack, that a loyalist officer, who had been out reconnoitring, had just brought word to the British commander that there was no sign of danger, when the first shots were heard; and by the time the officer had paraded and posted his men, the assault had begun, his horse had been killed, and he himself wounded.

When Ferguson learned that his foes were on him, he sprang on his horse, his drums beat to arms, and he instantly made ready for the fight.  Though surprised by the unexpected approach of the American, he exerted himself with such energy that his troops were in battle array when the attack began.  The outcrops of slaty rock on the hill-sides made ledges which, together with the boulders strewn on top, served as breastworks for the less disciplined tories; while he in person led his regulars and such of the loyalist companies as were furnished with the hunting-knife bayonets.  He hoped to be able to repulse his enemies by himself taking the offensive, with a succession of bayonet charges; a form of attack in which his experience with Pulaski and Huger had given him great confidence.

At three o’clock in the afternoon the firing began, as the Americans drove in the British pickets.  The brunt of the battle fell on the American centre, composed of Campbell’s and Shelby’s men, who sustained the whole fight for nearly ten minutes until the two wings had had time to get into place and surround the enemy.  Campbell began the assault, riding on horseback along the line of his riflemen.  He ordered them to raise the Indian war-whoop, which they did with a will, and made the woods ring. They then rushed upwards and began to fire, each on his own account; while their war cries echoed along the hill-side.  Ferguson’s men on the summit responded with heavy volley firing, and then charged, cheering lustily.  The mountain was covered with smoke and flame, and seemed to thunder.

Ferguson’s troops advanced steadily, their officers riding at their head, with their swords flashing; and the mountaineers, who had no bayonets, could not withstand the shock.  They fled down the hill-side, and being sinewy, nimble men, swift of foot, they were not overtaken, save a few of sullen temper, who would not retreat and were bayoneted.  One of their officers, a tall backwoodsman, six feet in height, was cut down by Lieutenant Allaire, a New York loyalist, as the latter rode at the head of his platoon.  No sooner had the British charge spent itself than Campbell, who was riding midway between the enemy and his own men, called out to the latter in a voice of thunder to rally and return to the fight, and in a minute or two they were all climbing the hill again, going from tree to tree, and shooting at the soldiers on the summit.  Campbell’s horse, exhausted by the breakneck galloping hither and thither over the slope, gave out; he then led the men on foot, his voice hoarse with shouting, his face blackened with powder; for he was always in the front of the battle and nearest the enemy.

No sooner had Ferguson returned from his charge on Campbell than he found Shelby’s men swarming up to the attack on the other side.  Shelby himself was at their head.  He had refused to let his people return the dropping fire of the tory skirmishers until they were close up.  Ferguson promptly charged his new foes and drove them down the hill-side; but the instant he stopped, Shelby, who had been in the thick of the fight, closest to the British, brought his marksmen back, and they came up nearer than ever, and with a deadlier fire. While Ferguson’s bayonet-men ­both regulars and militia ­charged to and fro, the rest of the loyalists kept up a heavy fire from behind the rocks on the hill-top.  The battle raged in every part, for the Americans had by this time surrounded their foes, and they advanced rapidly under cover of the woods.  They inflicted much more damage than they suffered, for they were scattered out while the royalist troops were close together, and moreover, were continually taken in flank.  Ferguson, conspicuous from his hunting-shirt, rode hither and thither with reckless bravery, his sword in his left hand-for he had never entirely regained the use of his wounded right ­while he made his presence known by the shrill, ear-piercing notes of a silver whistle which he always carried.  Whenever the British and tories charged with the bayonet, under Ferguson, De Peyster, or some of their lieutenants, the mountaineers were forced back down the hill; but the instant the red lines halted and returned to the summit, the stubborn riflemen followed close behind, and from every tree and boulder continued their irregular and destructive fire.  The peculiar feature of the battle was the success with which, after every retreat, Campbell, Shelby, Sevier, and Cleavland rallied their followers on the instant; the great point was to prevent the men from becoming panic-stricken when forced to flee.  The pealing volleys of musketry at short intervals drowned the incessant clatter of the less noisy but more deadly backwoods rifles.  The wild whoops of the mountain men, the cheering of the loyalists, the shouts of the officers, and the cries of the wounded mingled with the reports of the firearms, and shrill above the din rose the calling of the silver whistle.  Wherever its notes were heard the wavering British line came on, and the Americans were forced back.  Ferguson dashed from point to point, to repel the attacks of his foes, which were made with ever-increasing fury.  Two horses were killed under him; but he continued to lead the charging parties; slashing and hewing with his sword until it was broken off at the hilt.  At last, as he rode full speed against a part of Sevier’s men, who had almost gained the hill crest, he became a fair mark for the vengeful backwoods riflemen.  Several of them fired together and he fell suddenly from his horse, pierced by half a dozen bullets almost at the same instant.  The gallant British leader was dead, while his foot yet hung in the stirrup.

The silver whistle was now silent, but the disheartened loyalists were rallied by De Peyster, who bravely continued the fight. It is said that he himself led one of the charges which were at this time made on Cleavland’s line; the “South Fork” men from the Catawba, under Hambright and Chronicle, being forced back, Chronicle being killed and Hambright wounded.  When the Americans fled they were scarcely a gun’s length ahead of their foes; and the instant the latter faced about, the former were rallied by their officers, and again went up the hill.  One of the backwoodsmen was in the act of cocking his rifle when a loyalist, dashing at him with the bayonet, pinned his hand to his thigh; the rifle went off, the ball going through the loyalist’s body, and the two men fell together.  Hambright, though wounded, was able to sit in the saddle, and continued in the battle.  Cleavland had his horse shot under him, and then led his men on foot.  As the lines came close together, many of the whigs recognized in the tory ranks their former neighbors, friends, or relatives; and the men taunted and jeered one another with bitter hatred.  In more than one instance brother was slain by brother or cousin by cousin.  The lowland tories felt an especial dread of the mountaineers; looking with awe and hatred on their tall, gaunt, rawboned figures, their long, matted hair and wild faces.  One wounded tory, as he lay watching them, noticed their deadly accuracy of aim, and saw also that the loyalists, firing from the summit, continually overshot their foes.

The British regulars had lost half their number; the remainder had been scattered and exhausted in their successive charges.  The bayonet companies of the loyalist militia were in the same plight; and the North Carolina tories, the least disciplined, could no longer be held to their work.  Sevier’s men gained the summit at the same time with Campbell’s and part of Shelby’s.  The three colonels were heading their troops; and as Sevier saw Shelby, he swore, by God, the British had burned off part of his hair; for it was singed on one side of his head.

When the Holston and Watauga men gained the crest the loyalists broke and fled to the east end of the mountain, among the tents and baggage wagons, where they again formed.  But they were huddled together, while their foes surrounded them on every hand.  The fighting had lasted an hour; all hope was gone; and De Peyster hoisted a white flag.

In the confusion the firing continued in parts of the lines on both sides.  Some of the backwoodsmen did not know what a white flag meant; others disregarded it, savagely calling out, “Give them Buford’s play,” in allusion to Tarleton’s having refused quarter to Buford’s troops. Others of the men as they came up began shooting before they learned what had happened; and some tories who had been out foraging returned at this moment, and also opened fire.  A number of the loyalists escaped in turmoil, putting badges in their hats like those worn by certain of the American militia, and thus passing in safety through the whig lines. It was at this time, after the white flag had been displayed, that Col.  Williams was shot, as he charged a few of the tories who were still firing.  The flag was hoisted again, and white handkerchiefs were also waved, from guns and ramrods.  Shelby, spurring up to part of their line, ordered the tories to lay down their arms, which they did. Campbell, at the same moment, running among his men with his sword pointed to the ground, called on them for God’s sake to cease firing; and turning to the prisoners he bade the officers rank by themselves, and the men to take off their hats and sit down.  He then ordered De Peyster to dismount; which the latter did, and handed his sword to Campbell. The various British officers likewise surrendered their swords, to different Americans; many of the militia commanders who had hitherto only possessed a tomahawk or scalping-knife thus for the first time getting possession of one of the coveted weapons.

Almost the entire British and tory force was killed or captured; the only men who escaped were the few who got through the American lines by adopting the whig badges.  About three hundred of the loyalists were killed or disabled; the slightly wounded do not seem to have been counted. The colonel-commandant was among the slain; of the four militia colonels present, two were killed, one wounded, and the other captured ­a sufficient proof of the obstinacy of the resistance.  The American loss in killed and wounded amounted to less than half, perhaps only a third, that of their foes. [Footnote:  The official report as published gave the American loss as twenty-eight killed and sixty wounded.  The original document (in the Gates MSS., N. Y. Hist.  Soc.) gives the loss in tabulated form in an appendix, which has not heretofore been published.  It is as follows: 

RETURN OF KILLED AND WOUNDED.

It will be seen that these returns are imperfect.  They do not include Shelby’s loss; yet his regiment was alongside of Campbell’s, did its full share of the work, and probably suffered as much as Sevier’s, for instance.  But it is certain that in the hurry not all the killed and wounded were enumerated (compare Draper, pp. 302-304).  Hayes’, Thomas’, and “Brannon’s” (Brandon’s) commands were some of those joining at the Cowpens.  Winston’s loss is doubtless included under Cleavland’s.  It will be seen that Williams’ troops could have taken very little part in the action.] Campbell’s command suffered more than any other, the loss among the officers being especially great; for it bore the chief part in withstanding the successive bayonet charges of the regulars, and the officers had been forced to expose themselves with the utmost freedom, in order to rally their men when beaten back.

    After the Victory.

The mountain-men had done a most notable deed.  They had shown in perfection the best qualities of horse-riflemen.  Their hardihood and perseverance had enabled them to bear up well under fatigue, exposure, and scanty food.  Their long, swift ride, and the suddenness of the attack, took their foes completely by surprise.  Then, leaving their horses, they had shown in the actual battle such courage, marksmanship, and skill in woodland fighting, that they had not only defeated but captured an equal number of well-armed, well-led, resolute men, in a strong position.  The victory was of far-reaching importance, and ranks among the decisive battles of the Revolution.  It was the first great success of the Americans in the south, the turning-point in the southern campaign, and it brought cheer to the patriots throughout the Union.  The loyalists of the Carolinas were utterly cast down, and never recovered from the blow; and its immediate effect was to cause Cornwallis to retreat from North Carolina, abandoning his first invasion of that State.

The expedition offered a striking example of the individual initiative so characteristic of the backwoodsmen.  It was not ordered by any one authority; it was not even sanctioned by the central or State governments.  Shelby and Sevier were the two prime movers in getting it up; Campbell exercised the chief command; and the various other leaders, with their men, simply joined the mountaineers, as they happened to hear of them and come across their path.  The ties of discipline were of the slightest.  The commanders elected their own chief without regard to rank or seniority; in fact the officer who was by rank entitled to the place was hardly given any share in the conduct of the campaign.  The authority of the commandant over the other officers, and of the various colonels over their troops, resembled rather the control exercised by Indian chiefs over their warriors than the discipline obtaining in a regular army.  But the men were splendid individual fighters, who liked and trusted their leaders; and the latter were bold, resolute, energetic, and intelligent.

Cornwallis feared that the mountain men would push on and attack his flank; but there was no such danger.  By themselves they were as little likely to assail him in force in the open as Andreas Hofer’s Tyrolese ­with whom they had many points in common ­were to threaten Napoleon on the Danubian plains.  Had they been Continental troops, the British would have had to deal with a permanent army.  But they were only militiaafter all, however formidable from their patriotic purpose and personal prowess.  The backwoods armies were not unlike the armies of the Scotch Highlanders; tumultuous gatherings of hardy and warlike men, greatly to be dreaded under certain circumstances, but incapable of a long campaign, and almost as much demoralized by a victory as by a defeat.  Individually or in small groups they were perhaps even more formidable than the Highlanders; but in one important respect they were inferior, for they totally lacked the regimental organization which the clan system gave the Scotch Celts.

The mountaineers had come out to do a certain thing ­to kill Ferguson and scatter his troops.  They had done it, and now they wished to go home.  The little log-huts in which their families lived were in daily danger of Indian attack; and it was absolutely necessary that they should be on hand to protect them.  They were, for the most part, very poor men, whose sole sources of livelihood were the stock they kept beyond the mountains.  They loved their country greatly, and had shown the sincerity of their patriotism by the spontaneous way in which they risked their lives on this expedition.  They had no hope of reward; for they neither expected nor received any pay, except in liquidated certificates, worth two cents on the dollar.  Shelby’s share of these, for his services as colonel throughout ’80 and ’81, was sold by him for “six yards of middling broadcloth”; so it can be readily imagined how little each private got for the King’s Mountain expedition.

The day after the battle the Americans fell back towards the mountains, fearing lest, while cumbered by prisoners and wounded, they should be struck by Tarleton or perhaps Cruger.  The prisoners were marched along on foot, each carrying one or two muskets, for twelve hundred stand of arms had been captured.  The Americans had little to eat, and were very tired; but the plight of the prisoners was pitiable.  Hungry, footsore, and heartbroken, they were hurried along by the fierce and boastful victors, who gloried in the vengeance they had taken, and recked little of such a virtue as magnanimity to the fallen.  The only surgeon in either force was Ferguson’s.  He did what he could for the wounded; but that was little enough, for, of course, there were no medical stores whatever.  The Americans buried their dead in graves, and carried their wounded along on horse-litters.  The wounded loyalists were left on the field, to be cared for by the neighboring people.  The conquerors showed neither respect nor sympathy for the leader who had so gallantly fought them. His body and the bodies of his slain followers were cast into two shallow trenches, and loosely covered with stones and earth.  The wolves, coming to the carnage, speedily dug up the carcasses, and grew so bold from feasting at will on the dead that they no longer feared the living.  For months afterwards King’s Mountain was a favorite resort for wolf hunters.

The victory once gained, the bonds of discipline over the troops were forthwith loosened; they had been lax at the best, and only the strain of the imminent battle with the British had kept them tense for the fortnight the mountaineers had been away from their homes.  All the men of the different commands were bragging as to their respective merits in the battle, and the feats performed by the different commanders. The general break up of authority, of course, allowed full play to the vicious and criminal characters.  Even before the mountaineers came down the unfortunate Carolinas had suffered from the misdeeds of different bodies of ill-disciplined patriot troops, almost as much as from the British and tories.  The case was worse now.  Many men deserted from the returning army for the especial purpose of plundering the people of the neighborhood, paying small heed which cause the victims had espoused; and parties continually left camp avowedly with this object.  Campbell’s control was of the slightest; he was forced to entreat rather than command the troops, complaining that they left their friends in “almost a worse situation than the enemy would have done,” and expressing what was certainly a moderate “wish,” that the soldiers would commit no “unnecessary injury” on the inhabitants of the county. Naturally such very mild measures produced little effect in stopping the plundering.

However, Campbell spoke in stronger terms of an even worse set of outrages.  The backwoodsmen had little notion of mercy to beaten enemies, and many of them treated the captured loyalists with great brutality, even on the march, Col.  Cleavland himself being one of the offenders. Those of their friends and relatives who had fallen into the hands of the tories, or of Cornwallis’ regulars, had fared even worse; yet this cannot palliate their conduct.  Campbell himself, when in a fit of gusty anger, often did things he must have regretted afterwards; but he was essentially manly, and his soul revolted at the continued persecution of helpless enemies.  He issued a sharp manifesto in reference to the way the prisoners were “slaughtered and disturbed,” assuring the troops that if it could not be prevented by moderate measures, he would put a stop to it by taking summary vengeance on the offenders. After this the prisoners were, on the whole, well treated.  When they met a couple of Continental officers, the latter were very polite, expressing their sympathy for their fate in falling into such hands; for from Washington and Greene down, the Continental troops disliked and distrusted the militia almost as much as the British regulars did the tories.

There was one dark deed of vengeance.  It had come to be common for the victors on both sides to hang those whom they regarded as the chief offenders among their conquered opponents.  As the different districts were alternately overrun, the unfortunate inhabitants were compelled to swear allegiance in succession to Congress and to king; and then, on whichever side they bore arms, they were branded as traitors.  Moreover, the different leaders, both British and American, from Tarleton and Ferguson to Sumter and Marion, often embodied in their own ranks some of their prisoners, and these were of course regarded as deserters by their former comrades.  Cornwallis, seconded by Rawdon, had set the example of ordering all men found in the rebel ranks after having sworn allegiance to the king, to be hung; his under-officers executed the command with zeal, and the Americans, of course, retaliated.  Ferguson’s troops themselves had hung some of their prisoners.

All this was fresh in the minds of the Americans who had just won so decisive a victory.  They were accustomed to give full vent to the unbridled fury of their passions; they with difficulty brooked control; they brooded long over their own wrongs, which were many and real, and they were but little impressed by the misdeeds committed in return by their friends.  Inflamed by hatred and the thirst for vengeance, they would probably have put to death some of their prisoners in any event; but all doubt was at an end when on their return march they were joined by an officer who had escaped from before Augusta, and who brought word that Cruger’s victorious loyalists had hung a dozen of the captured patriots. This news settled the doom of some of the tory prisoners.  A week after the battle a number of them were tried, and thirty were condemned to death.  Nine, including the only tory colonel who had survived the battle, were hung; then Sevier and Shelby, men of bold, frank nature, could no longer stand the butchery, and peremptorily interfered, saving the remainder. Of the men who were hung, doubtless some were murderers and marauders, who deserved their fate; others, including the unfortunate colonel, were honorable men, executed only because they had taken arms for the cause they deemed right.

Leaving the prisoners in the hands of the lowland militia, the mountaineers returned to their secure fastnesses in the high hill-valleys of the Holston, the Watauga, and the Nollchucky.  They had marched well and fought valiantly, and they had gained a great victory; all the little stockaded forts, all the rough log-cabins on the scattered clearings, were jubilant over the triumph.  From that moment their three leaders were men of renown.  The legislatures of their respective states thanked them publicly and voted them swords for their services.  Campbell, next year, went down to join Greene’s army, did gallant work at Guilford Courthouse, and then died of camp-fever.  Sevier and Shelby had long lives before them. [Footnote:  Thirty years after the battle, when Campbell had long been dead, Shelby and Sevier started a most unfortunate controversy as to his conduct in the battle.  They insisted that he had flinched, and that victory was mainly due to them.  Doubtless they firmly believed what they said; for as already stated, the jealousies and rivalries among the backwoods leaders were very strong; but the burden of proof, after thirty years’ silence, rested on them, and they failed to make their statements good ­nor was their act a very gracious one.  Shelby bore the chief part in the quarrel, Campbell’s surviving relatives, of course, defending the dead chieftain.  I have carefully examined all the papers in the case, in the Tenn.  Historical Society, the Shelby, MSS., and the Campbell MSS., besides the files of the Richmond Enquirer, etc.; and it is evident that the accusation was wholly groundless.

    Shelby and Sevier rest their case: 

1st, on their memory, thirty years after the event, of some remarks of Campbell to them in private after the close of the battle, which they construed as acknowledgments of bad conduct.  Against these memories of old men it is safe to set Shelby’s explicit testimony, in a letter written six days after the battle (see Virginia Argus, Oc, 1810), to the good-conduct of the “gallant commander” (Campbell).

2d, on the fact that Campbell was seen on a black horse in the rear during the fighting; but a number of men of his regiment swore that he had given his black horse to a servant who sat in the rear, while he himself rode a bay horse in the battle.  See their affidavits in the Enquirer.

3d, on the testimony of one of Shelby’s brothers, who said he saw him in the rear.  This is the only piece of positive testimony in the case.  Some of Campbell’s witnesses (as Matthew Willoughby) swore that this brother of Shelby was a man of bad character, engaged at the time in stealing cattle from both Whigs and Tories.

4th, on the testimony of a number of soldiers who swore they did not see Campbell in the latter part of the battle, nor until some moments after the surrender.  Of course, this negative testimony is simply valueless; in such a hurly burly it would be impossible for the men in each part of the line to see all the commanders, and Campbell very likely did not reach the places where these men were until some time after the surrender.  On the other hand, forty officers and soldiers of Campbell’s, Sevier’s, and Shelby’s regiments, headed by General Rutledge, swore that they had seen Campbell valiantly leading throughout the whole battle, and foremost at the surrender.  This positive testimony conclusively settles the matter; it outweighs that of Shelby’s brother, the only affirmative witness on the other side.  But it is a fair question as to whether Campbell or another of Shelby’s brothers received De Peyster’s sword.]