USA > Tennessee > Old tales retold; or, Perils and adventures of Tennessee pioneers > Part 6
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18
87
Old Tales Retold.
the families of Donelson and others, were on board the flagship Adventure, which carried a sail.
The fleet of house boats, flatboats, dugouts, and canoes left Fort Patrick Henry, on the Holston, on the 22d day of December, 1779, bound for the lower Cum- berland. It would be a mistake to suppose that the pioneer families were gloomy or fearful at thought of the dangers of their long voyage. On the contrary, except when they were in immediate peril, they were remarkably gay and hopeful, perhaps a little reckless. . During the four months they were on the way the emigrants beguiled the time with songs and tales and jests, besides many a dance on deck. Colonel Don- elson's handsome daughter Rachel (who afterwards married the renowned Andrew Jackson) was said to have had, above the rest, "a light foot in the dance." Rachel Donelson has been elsewhere described as a young woman "with that magnetic personality that sways and controls hearts," and whose "sparkling black eyes" were the admiration of all. Diversion was otherwise found in providing game for the table. The men would often stop to fish or shoot along the banks. Among various exploits of the kind, a mem- ber of the party shot a swan on the Cumberland, which "was delicious," according to the record of Colonel Donelson in the journal which he kept of the events of the voyage. This is an interesting entry, showing that there were feathered creatures found by the early settlers now unknown in Tennessee. Still earlier trav- elers in the eastern part of the State have written of paroquets and other semi-tropical birds seen in its forests. Though the voyagers were as a rule buoy- ant and care free, the journey was not made without
88
The Voyage of the Adventure.
danger, suffering, and loss. One boat's crew which became infected with smallpox was necessarily allowed to drop behind, and perished at the hands of the In- dians. John Cotton's boat was capsized in the "Nar- rows" of the Tennessee, in the swirling waters called the "Boiling Pot." Mr. Gower's boat was fired on from the heights on both sides of the "Narrows." It was then that his daughter Nancy distinguished her- self for courage and presence of mind. While the men were dazed with alarm, she took the helm and steered the boat to safety, though she had been wounded by a bullet. As she uttered no groan or word of com- plaint, it was not suspected by those she saved that she was hurt until all danger was over, and it was found that she had been shot through the thigh.
The party who went in advance by land reached their destination long before Donelson's fleet arrived. On the cold Christmas day of 1779 they found themselves on the eastern bank of the frozen Cumberland, and crossed on ice to the Bluffs.
On May 24, 1780, the travelers by boat reached the same point on the river. They were rejoiced on land- ing to see that a number of snug log cabins had been built for them by Robertson and his companions. Otherwise, the prospect was rather dreary. Cane- brakes, cedars, and unbroken woods only were to be seen anywhere except in the small space about the spring, which the men had planted in corn. The light-hearted people made the best of their situation. They neatly arranged in their cabins the few articles of furniture they had brought, and turned their cattle out to graze, with bells on their necks and hobbles on their feet, until fences could be built to keep them
89
Old Tales Retold.
from straying too far. The pioneers were then ready to cultivate the fields which had been planted by the first comers. They worked hard, and looked forward cheerfully to the time when the grain should be har- vested. The brightest hopes of the new settlers were later realized. In the end their dreams of peace and plenty were fulfilled. But there was a period of four- teen years of danger from Indians, and even a short time of distress for food ahead of them in their new home before they fully reaped the reward of their courage and patient endurance of hardships.
It is true that Oconostota's warriors on the east no longer disturbed them; and that their nearest red neighbor on the west, the peace-loving Piomingo (the "Mountain Leader," who was chief of the Chicka- saws) boasted that he had never shed a white man's blood in anger ; yet they had dangerous enemies in the Chickamaugas, the same tribe near Lookout Mountain who had attacked their boats in the "Narrows" of the Tennessee. These and the almost equally fierce Creeks from Alabama often came, by way of a trail known to themselves, across the country to threaten the settlers on the Cumberland. Added to harassment from the savages, the pioneers, during their second winter at the Bluffs, had also to contend with scarcity of food. The cold winter of 1779-80 had killed so many of the creatures of the woods that there was but little meat to eat. And as the river that year over- flowed the sulphur spring bottom in June and swept away the settlers' first crop of corn when it was knee- high, too late to replant, the people suffered equally for lack of bread. The price of the grain rose to a dollar and sixty cents a bushel, and could only be
90
The Voyage of the Adventure.
procured at all by sending occasional pack horses for it to Kentucky. Meal was so scarce that it was cooked in small quantities only for the aged, the sick, or the very young. Exceptions to the rule were rare occa- sions, such as wedding feasts, at which the bride's cake was a large loaf or "pone" of eggbread; or the arrival of strangers, before whom was invariably set the best food that could be had. Newcomers were wel- come in every home, and there was no bill to pay when they left. It was the custom to give merrymakings in their honor, usually in the front yard, which was swept and strewn with wild flowers for the festival. Manufactured articles were, of course, rare on the frontiers. The only ink in use was made, as needed, from gunpowder. Horse collars of corn shucks and traces of rawhide were common. Seats were often only homemade stools, round or square. Gourds of all shapes and sizes, up to the "punger gourd," which held four or five gallons, were used for storing salt, soap, lard, and other supplies. Not a few families ate their meals with pieces of sharpened cane instead of forks, and all beat corn into meal by hand, there being no gristmills in the country. The only sugar in use was made from the boiled sap of maple trees. As the population of the settlement on the Cumberland increased, some began to grow tired of the hardships they had to endure and the dangers they had to en- counter in pioneer life. In their discontent they open- ly declared that they were sorry they had ever come into the wilderness.
At last, when affairs grew desperate, the malcon- tents publicly proposed that they should all abandon the place and move away in a body. They were for
91
Old Tales Retold.
going at once. Others were for staying, and still oth- ers frankly said they would be guided in the matter by the advice of James Robertson, who had not yet spoken his views on the subject. He knew the diffi- culties and perils. He had weighed the matter well and, being urged, he called the men to meet in council and said to them: "I do not deny the great danger we are in, both from starvation and from savages. Whether we go or whether we stay, we may all be destroyed, either here in our homes or on our way back through Kentucky. Yet you all, each one of you, must decide for yourselves. As for me and mine, we will stay."
Only a few of the men decided to leave. The re- mainder, encouraged by his steadfast example, said they would stand by their leader and share his fate. From that time they gave up thoughts of seeking ease in older communities and went earnestly to work to make their own situation what they desired it to be. By hard labor and brave resistance they laid the foun- dation of Middle Tennessee with the rifle and the ax. By their courage and fortitude Robertson's journey by land was turned to good account; and as a result of their determination the voyage of the "good boat Adventure" was saved from being a futile enterprise.
92
1
VIII. THE HORNETS' NEST.
THERE was a time during the Revolutionary War when the British army overran North Carolina. The veteran royal troops under Cruger and Ferguson and Tarletan went about throughout the country just east of the Unaka Mountains burning houses, robbing and abusing the owners, and driving from their homes all who loved liberty. Whole families roamed from place to place, not having where to lay their heads. Wom- en and children fled across the mountains for safety. Some on horseback, some on foot, they toiled over the Unakas to seek refuge among the free-spirited back- woods settlers who had never yet bowed the neck to an English king. Into their simple pioneer homes the wanderers were kindly welcomed. No door in the Watauga settlement was closed against the homeless. In Carter's Valley and on the Nollichucky River they were welcomed. There was scarcely a cabin in the border country without its refugee Carolina guests.
The families of Colonel Clarke, Colonel McDowell, and other Carolinians who were out fighting against the British were comfortably housed in the home of Captain John Sevier on the Nollichucky.
Wherever the refugees told their story of the hard- ships they had suffered, the frontiersmen were stirred to more active resistance to the English. They wanted to mount their fleet horses and dash across the border, as they had done at Thickety Fort, and punish the
7
93
Old Tales Retold.
offenders at once. If only Nollichucky Jack (as they called their beloved Captain Sevier) would be their leader, they felt sure of success, for the British feared him as they would a human hornet, and called the borderland through which he ranged the "Hornets' Nest."
While the backwoodsmen were in this restless hu- mor, Col. Patrick Ferguson recklessly insulted every patriot on the western frontier anew. He was fool- hardy enough to send a special messenger from his camp near Gilbert Town, east of the Blue Ridge, di- rect to "King's Meadows," Col. Isaac Shelby's cattle ranch (near the present site of Bristol), with an in- solent message to Shelby himself, as well as to Sevier and other border leaders and their followers. Said Ferguson to his courier, in the blindness of his folly : "Tell that set of banditti to stay at home and keep quiet, or I will cross the mountain and have their hor- nets' nest burned out."
If the British colonel had disturbed an actual nest of hornets, he could not have caused a greater uproar. In hot haste Colonel Shelby mounted his horse to take the important news to John Sevier, "the efficient commander of Washington County," and concert with him for measures of defense. The hardy Shelby, a man of grand size and great endurance, traveled fully fifty miles southward from his ranch before he rode under the crossbeam of the gateway into Sevier's picketed yard. In the log house on the Nollichucky the two soldierly men talked long and anxiously about the affairs of their country. Firmly resolved never to be ruled by prince or king or royal governor, they determined to defend their over-mountain land against
94
The Hornets' Nest.
the British army to the last. Though the revolutionary cause seemed to be lost, General Washington himself having lately said, "I have almost ceased to hope," they made up their minds to remain unconquered. With the spirit which afterwards gained for their land the title of the "Young Switzerland of America," the resolute leaders agreed that, though New England and all the other colonies might be forced to yield to the tyranny of England, they would keep one spot in Amer- ica free, or die in the attempt.
In considering their plans, Sevier's advice, in ac- cordance with his usual rule of warfare, was to "take the war into the enemy's country." With their moun- tain men (the border soldiers who could stay in the saddle a week at a time), he believed it would be pos- sible to hunt out the British colonel and bring him to account for his arrogance.
Their course being decided upon, the two command- ers called a meeting of officers and set to work to col- lect troops from all parts of the country. Before sep- arating they appointed Sycamore Shoals (Watauga Old Fields) as the place of meeting, and named a day for the march over the mountains.
Colonel Shelby went back to King's Meadows to rouse the backwater men on the Virginia border, while Sevier called around him his own confidential fol- lowers. His eyes were full of determination as he said to them: "Go tell my men to come and help me thrash Ferguson."
Without delay each trusty courier sprang to the saddle and sped away to rally the patriots of the frontier country. There was not a cove or valley which they did not penetrate with the message. Nor
95
Old Tales Retold.
was there a mountain height on which a cabin might be perched where they did not tell the news. "The Redcoats are coming !" they shouted aloud; "rally for 'Chucky Jack and freedom!" And on they went through all the thinly settled region, only pausing long enough at each "clearing" to cry: "Ferguson is not far off, making his boasts that he will come and burn out our hornets' nest and hang our leaders. Rally for 'Chucky Jack! The Redcoats are com- ing !"
The refugee women and children trembled at the thought of being hunted out again by the ruthless "regulars" of Ferguson's army. But when they saw how eagerly each frontiersman took his rifle from the deer horn rack and flung himself across his horse to answer the summons, they could not but feel secure again. There was swift mounting and there were hur- ried partings, at the stirring call to arms. The spirit of the backwoods was on fire. Like hornets, indeed, the men were darting out to sting the enemy who threatened their homes, their liberties, and their lives. Sevier had called to them: "Come and help me thrash Ferguson." What more was needed to bring every true man to his side?
Volunteers came promptly from mountain and cove. Captain Robert Sevier brought his light horsemen to his brother's aid, and the "Tall Watauga Boys," whose old leader, James Robertson, had lately moved with a number of families still farther westward, were eager to follow Sevier.
Colonel Shelby and the two valiant Campbells had already collected a considerable force of Virginians to join in the quick, sharp raid Sevier proposed to make
96
The Hornets' Nest.
across the mountains to whip Ferguson in his camp at Gilbert Town. At the same time McDowell, Hamp- ton, and Cleveland, from North Carolina, readily agreed to unite with him in carrying out his plan. For some days the various leaders were actively engaged in preparation ; and their evenings, far into the night, were spent together in consultation over the details of the campaign.
Those were busy days for John Sevier as well as for the young mistress of his home, formerly the "Bonny Kate" Sherrill, whose heart and hands were full with ministering to the refugees who had come to them for shelter. The many rooms in Sevier's residence (which was a collection of log buildings added from time to time as they had been needed) were all required for the company now under his rambling roofs. Yet notwithstanding the unusual stress of household duties Catherine Sherrill found time for numerous acts of charity. Among those to whom she gave daily help was poor Nancy Dyke, who came regularly for a "measure of meal and a flitch of bacon." Nancy's worthless husband, a despised Tory, had left her and her small children in their hut in the forest the year before; and but for Mrs. Sevier's charity, they would have starved.
One morning, preparing to supply the wants of the abandoned family, Mrs. Sevier had turned the great iron key in the smokehouse door, when she was startled by a sob from the poor creature at her side. "What ails you, Nancy?" was asked so compassionately that tears started to Nancy's eyes, and with an outcry she threw herself at the kind lady's feet.
"You are so good to me," she said between sobs,
97
Old Tales Retold.
"that I cannot see danger come nigh your husband and not tell you what I know."
"Danger to my husband?" cried Mrs. Sevier in alarm. "What can you mean ? Speak!"
The woman hesitated, but the truth was forced from her lips. "Why, ma'am," she faltered, "he's come back to me, Dyke has. Last night there were some bad 'king's men' talking with him outside the door. I heard them through the chink say : 'Nollichucky Jack does not bar his doors at night. It will be easy work while he sleeps to rid the country of him and do the king a service.' They mean to kill Captain Sevier this very night." Then, frightened at what she had said, Nancy began to beg for mercy for her husband. "Don't let him be hurt," she pleaded. "He was not always the 'Traitor Bill Dyke' they call him now. He used to treat me well."
Her pitiful prayer would have been heard and the culprit would have been spared for the sake of his wife if the matter had rested with Captain Sevier. But the men of Nollichucky were excited to indigna- tion when they heard of this Tory plot to take the life of their commander. Indeed, they could scarcely wait an hour to get their hands on Bill Dyke. Yet, when they caught him that night, they were merciful enough not to hang the criminal. They only stripped him of his clothing and gave him, in its place, an ample coat of tar and feathers. Turned loose in this sorry plight, the wretched man went flying across the mountain like an evil bird, as straight as he could go to Ferguson's camp. There he told of the gathering of the back- woodsmen, and offered to guide the British troops into the heart of the frontier' country by an easy route.
98
JOHN SEVIER.
٠
The Hornets' Nest.
But when Ferguson heard what a stir his threats had caused he backed quickly, as far as he could, to- ward the interior of North Carolina. Having reached what he thought was a safe position, he stopped and made the boastful declaration that, "as to those barba- rians from the backwoods," he did not fear them. With blasphemous oaths he defied any power in heaven or earth to overcome him. Colonel Ferguson did not then know the lesson that was afterwards taught him : that men who are fighting for their homes are always to be feared, no matter how few their numbers.
On the 25th day of September, 1780, men, women, and children, black and white, all who could walk or ride, poured into the camp at Watauga Old Fields, the rendezvous of the border troops. Never before in the Western wilds had there been such a gathering of people as met there near the old fort where Elizabeth- ton now stands. Under the shade of the oaks that fringed the old field the volunteers were grouped, sur- rounded by friends who cheered, comforted, and ad- vised while they waited for the order to march. Pride flashed in Nollichucky Jack's eyes as he rode up and down the field reviewing his men. His were soldiers of whom a commander might well be proud, though they were dressed in homespun hunting shirts and leggings (fringed and tasseled), with buck's tails in their hats for plumes, and had only rations of parched corn in the deer hide knapsacks on their backs. To a man, they were remarkable for height and strength of body ; and each one of them was a sure marksman with his flintlock gun, as well as skillful in the use of the knife or tomahawk in his belt.
Sevier's erect figure, wherever it appeared, was the
99
Old Tales Retold.
signal for hearty cheers and greetings. Every man in the ranks was his devoted friend. He had something to say to each, with special, personal kindness. To all alike he said in the quiet, magnetic voice which made his lightest word a command: "We must whip Ferguson." The cry was caught up from man to man, spreading from rank to rank, and gathering force as it went, till the Watauga hills resounded with the shout : "We must whip Ferguson !"
The ardor of Sevier's own spirit was ablaze in ev- ery heart. It seemed a propitious moment to begin the march. Yet there was a pause and a few moments of waiting for something of importance which was first to be done. Not until the blessing of God had been asked for their undertaking would the patriot band be ready to sweep out on the trail after Ferguson.
The Rev. Samuel Doak had been in camp all day, preparing the soldiers' souls for the dangers they were so soon to meet. It was the same "Parson Doak" who had brought the first collection of books worthy to be called a library to the wilderness of the south- west. On leaving his Alma Mater, the college of Princeton, as a young man, he had packed his books upon his horse and had driven the laden beast across the Alleghanies and across Virginia, himself walking behind, to the new settlement on Watauga. There he had founded a college and a church in which he elo- quently exhorted his hearers to "Cease to do evil and learn to do well." And now his people called upon the good man, "whose smile was a benediction in it- self," to offer for them and their cause a final prayer.
Making a wide circle, the backwoodsmen sur- rounded the parson in his black skullcap, long cloak,
100
The Hornets' Nest.
knee breeches, and buckled shoes. Reverently, with bared heads they bowed in silence while Father Doak placed them in care of the "Giver of all victories." The prayer ended, he spoke to the patriots, as only he could, burning words that sent the blood tingling through their veins. When at the last he raised his voice in the command, "Go forth, my brave men, go forth with the sword of the Lord and of Gideon !" he was answered by a shout that seemed to shake the earth.
With one impulse the men sprang to their saddles and started up the stony mountain path, calling back again : "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" In long Indian file they toiled on and upward, still shout- ing, "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" The sound, mingling with the other cry, "We must whip Ferguson," was borne to the people in the camp grounds below, who still stood, with prayers and blessings on their lips, straining ears and eyes after the departing sons, husbands, fathers, brothers until the last soldier was out of view. The men from the Hornets' Nest were off in a swarm after Ferguson. How they stung his army and silenced his wicked boasts in the battle of King's Mountain is a story to be told hereafter.
IOI
IX. ON TO KING'S MOUNTAIN.
THE over-mountain men rushed down the eastern slopes of the Blue Ridge, hot on the trail after Patrick Ferguson. The colonel of the British "regulars" had goaded the backwoods soldiers to fury by his gibes and taunts. Great was their chagrin then, on reach- ing the level country, to find that he had broken camp at Gilbert Town and was already far on his way east- ward. What to do now the frontier leaders could not tell. They knew that Colonel Ferguson was hurrying to reach Cornwallis's army before they should over- take him, but they could learn nothing of his exact whereabouts. If they allowed him to get away, he would be sure to reënforce his army and return with overwhelming numbers to give battle. If, on the other hand, they followed too far, they might be led directly into the enemy's lines. Only one thing was certain : Ferguson was out of reach, at least for the present. The angry swarm of backwoodsmen, pouring out of the region which Ferguson had contemptuously called the "Hornets' Nest," was suddenly checked and con- fused. In their dilemma the patriot army halted for the night. Their able commanders, Colonels Shelby, McDowell, and Sevier, led by Colonel Campbell, con- cluded to await the arrival of Colonel Cleveland be- fore going farther. Cleveland and his rough riders from Wilkes and Surrey Counties, in North Carolina,
102
On to King's Mountain.
had promised to join the over-mountain men as soon as they should have crossed the dividing range. The latter had not long to wait. Early in the night the tramp of a mounted troop was heard not far off. At length a band of weather-beaten soldiers, led by the "brave and gentle Cleveland," filed down the mountain path out of the shadows of the forest into the ruddy light of the camp fires. Behind the hardy rough riders, whose lives were spent in the saddle, trooped a motley crowd of North Carolina patriots, men without officers and officers without men. They were the rem- nant of disbanded troops who, having fought the Brit- ish as long as their ranks could hold together, had now come singly and in groups to volunteer in the desperate raid after Ferguson. Mingled with these determined men of war were numbers of women and children whose homes had been destroyed by the le- gions of Tarletan and Cruger. Having nowhere else to go, they had followed their husbands and fathers to war. As they could not be safely left behind, they had been allowed to come thus far from the ruins of their houses to await the result of the fight with Ferguson. The return to home, the enjoyment of liberty, everything dear to these helpless wanderers, depended upon the issue of the expected battle.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.