USA > Tennessee > Old tales retold; or, Perils and adventures of Tennessee pioneers > Part 7
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The dawn of next morning's light showed the faces of the refugees pale and haggard from marching and watching. Col. John Sevier was moved to pity at the thought that their only hope, as well as the hope of all good Americans, lay in the success of the enterprise in hand. The cause of the Revolution seemed well-nigh lost. A victory for the patriots was the absolute need of the hour. Sevier felt sure that a decided triumph
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over the skillful Ferguson would serve to turn the tide of war in favor of the Americans, and make it possible for the people to return to their homes.
Impressed with the idea that the enemy must be overtaken at all hazards, he said emphatically, in coun- cil with the other officers: "We must catch Ferguson, wherever he may be." The noted scout, Enoch Gil- mer, coming in at that moment from a reconnoitering expedition, remarked, with a twinkle in his eyes: "Very well, then; I can tell you where he is. But you will have to be quick to overtake him. This very morn- ing I saw his army, fourteen hundred strong. It was already ten miles from last night's encampment, and still moving forward." In proof of his state- ments, Gilmer delivered up a dispatch he had captured from a courier sent by Ferguson to Cornwallis. From the dispatch it was learned that Ferguson would soon be intrenched on a ridge he called King's Mountain ; and while he boasted of the strength of the position, it was noticed that he urged his general to send re- enforcements to him at once. The patriots realized that if he should fortify the crest of King's Mountain and be joined there by still other troops it would be madness to attack him, yet Sevier insisted upon fol- lowing his trail.
Consequently, a forced march was agreed upon, al- though there were only about nine hundred of the frontier patriots in condition to join in the long, rapid pursuit of the enemy. Toward evening such soldiers as were fit were chosen out, and the rest were ordered to wait in camp for the return of the army. But the order did not suit the spirit of the patriotic foot sol- diers who had volunteered to join in the desperate ex-
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On to King's Mountain.
pedition. If Ferguson was to be caught, they wanted to help catch him. They had come out to fight, and would not be put off. Even though they might not hope to keep pace with the fleet mountain horses of the rifle- men, they insisted upon starting out with the raiders and going as far as possible on the way. The wom- en also, not wishing to be left behind, declared that they would take their children by the hand and follow the army as long as they could walk.
Notwithstanding the ardor of the men and the desperation of the women, they could not have kept up with the cavalry had not a heavy rain begun to fall. A deluge of water turned the roads into sloughs of mud through which no horse could travel rapidly. The night was dark, and the air was chill. Torrents of rain were falling, but the patriotic fires in the hearts of the devoted band were not quenched. The nine hundred picked riflemen started buoyantly on their errand to catch Ferguson. Behind them trudged the foot soldiers and their families. All night long and into the following day the storm raged in the forests through which they passed. Trees bent almost to the ground under the wind. Boughs were tossed to and fro, and limbs, catching hold of each other, creaked dismally; the blackness of night was made still darker by clouds, and in the morning daylight was obscured by downpouring floods. Still the res- olute patriots pressed forward. Their only fear was that Ferguson might escape them. Their only anxiety was to keep their powder dry. Each man took care to shield his rifle from dampness by covering it with his blanket. Many of them stripped off their hunting shirts to wrap around the gunlocks, and left their
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shivering bodies exposed to the elements. At the deep ford of Broad River, which they had to cross, the cavalrymen held their rifles high overhead to pro· tect them from the splashing of the water. At the same time many of them were encumbered with a foot soldier behind, or else a woman or a child who had been taken up to be helped over the stream.
As nearly every inhabitant of the country who was not a "king's man" had been driven away by the British, it was hard for the patriots to get correct in- formation about Ferguson's movements. Had not their guide, the sharp-witted scout Gilmer, been too shrewd to be deceived by "tricky Tories," they might have been misled and sent on the wrong road time and again by false reports. Gilmer trusted none of them, but by questioning them he often gained information while they did not suspect his object, which served to keep the pursuing army on the right trail.
The scout usually rode some distance in advance, and when all was well he would loudly sing the old song "Barney Lynn." Guided by his cheery voice, the frontiersmen on the second day reached a point where various signs showed that Ferguson's army had recently camped. The Americans, who were by this time tired and hungry, thought it a good place also for themselves to stop and rest-that is, the soldiers thought so, and their immediate officers readily con- sented, seeing that some of the men were so exhausted that they had sunk in their saddles, unable to sit erect. The horses of others had given out completely, and there was not a man among them who was not drenched to the skin and chilled throughout. Accord- ingly, the captains urged the higher officers to allow
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the men a short rest. "A slight halt," they suggested, "if only for half a day, will restore our worn-out com- panies and enable them to fight the battle."
But the commanders were determined to push on. They felt sure that Ferguson was not far off. He must be overtaken before help reached him from Corn- wallis. Speaking for his own regiment, Isaac Shelby straightened his form to full height and said: "We will not stop until night, if we follow Ferguson into Cornwallis's lines." Campbell's answer was his gen- eral order to the army: "Forward, march !"
Sevier led the way, calling aloud, "Onward, men, onward!" with an enthusiastic ring in his voice which put new life into the weary bodies of the soldiers. Fol- lowing briskly, they cried: "We will catch Ferguson, and we will whip him to boot."
The over-mountain men were getting within reach of their quarry. Once they heard of Ferguson as being eleven miles off, then eight, and again only five. Soon afterwards, they came to a house on the roadside where they asked for information. The people within, being Tories, would only say: "Ferguson is not far off." Two of Sevier's men had gone in to question them, and not being able to learn anything more, they left the house in disappointment. They had not gone far, however, before they heard a woman's voice behind them saying softly: "How many of you poor fellows are there?" The kindness of her tones assured the soldiers that the woman who had followed them out sympathized with the cause of the Revolution, so one of the two promptly answered her, saying: "There are enough to whip Ferguson." And the other, with a questioning look, added : "That is, if we can find him
8
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-- with the help of a friend?" With a nod of assent, the woman led the men a little apart and pointed to a ridge some distance off, which appeared to be about a mile long. "He is on that mountain," she said briefly.
"How far is it?" asked the eager soldiers.
"Scarcely three miles," was the answer. "I sold chickens in his camp this morning. His tents are pitched on top of the ridge. He has fortified the place, and calls it King's Mountain."
The leaders, on learning that the enemy's position was in sight, began a more rapid march. It was now noon of the third day. The clouds were parting, and the sun had burst forth in early October splendor. Nature's smiles seemed to foretell success. The pa- triots hastened on until they were in full view of the British camp. On the summit of the pine-covered ridge they saw high breastworks of earth and stones piled up in jagged walls. Behind the walls white tents and baggage wagons capped the mountain as if with snow, and over all floated the red flag of England. Here and there the glint of bayonet steel and flash of scarlet uniforms showed that the regulars were in motion, preparing for the fray. Among them the trained Tory bands, under Gibbs and Moore, could also be descried. Coming to engage them were but a few travel-stained backwoodsmen. Worn out with days and nights of almost continuous riding, they had paused to take breath on the hillside opposite King's Mountain. Though they were suffering from expos- ure and want of sleep, they were none the less willing to meet the adroit Ferguson on his own chosen ground. Crowded behind the mounted men were the foot sol- diers, and still behind were huddled the refugee fam-
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ilies. How the women had managed to keep up with the army was a mystery. It was hard to believe that they and the children (albeit the latter were sturdy urchins from the hill country) had come on foot al- most every step of the way. They were now watch- ing every movement of the troops with interest and listening anxiously to every word, for the fate of all depended on the courage and endurance of the men.
Presently, along the lines rang the words: "Dis- mount ! Tie up horses to the branches of trees." Then in quick succession came orders to "Take off great- coats and blankets. Tie to your saddles. Throw priming out of pans. Each man prime anew. Ex- amine bullets and see that everything is in readiness for battle."
Campbell waved his hand toward the "Redcoats," calling out : "Here they are! Now do your duty, my brave men." Cleveland likewise pointed to the moun- tain as he rode up and down his ranks, saying: "Yonder is your enemy, and the enemy of mankind. Now is the time for you to do your country a price- less service."
Shelby, ever calmly stern, gave grim instructions to his men. "Never shoot," said he, "until you see an enemy's eyes, and never see an enemy without bringing him down." Sevier's speeches to his men were short. Following him they had never known defeat, and they thought only of victory. They had caught Ferguson ; the next thing was to whip him. Campbell gave the order to advance. The tall, sinewy frontiersmen marched at his command to the base of the mountain. Here they paused and separated. One half of the army turned to the right, led by Sevier and Campbell ;
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the other half, under Cleveland and Shelby, went to the left. Swiftly and noiselessly the drenched and bedraggled backwoodsmen stole around the ridge in Indian file, completely encircling its base. The heads of the two columns had come within view of each other and the coil was thrown fully around Fergu- son's post before the silence was broken. "Halt, and face the mountain!" was the first word of command. Hardly was the order carried out before the long, loud roll of the British drums pealed forth overhead. The sound was instantly followed by a volley of musketry and a patter of English bullets through the trees. This was the signal for the patriots to begin climbing the mountain on all sides at once.
Shelby bade his men not to return the fire that fell upon them while they were struggling through a rough ravine. "Press on to your places at the top," he ex- horted, "and your bullets will not be wasted." Oppo- site Shelby, on the steep slope of the other side of the ridge, Campbell's men climbed painfully and perilously upward. As they had to grasp shrubs and roots to aid them in the ascent, their hands were not free to shoot. Cleveland was making his way slowly to the top over at the eastern end of the mountain. "A little nearer, my brave men," he urged persuasively. "We have beaten the Tories, and we can beat them again."
Meantime Sevier's men, already halfway up the hill, had found a gap through which they pressed to- ward the enemy's center. Leading the way himself, with the excitement of battle lighting his eyes, Sevier called back confidently: "Come on and whip Fergu- son."
Presently the whole patriot force had reached the
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BATTLE OF KING'S MOUNTAIN.
On to King's Mountain.
top, and Ferguson was closely encompassed by those he had scornfully termed "the dregs of mankind." At sight of the untrained soldiery for whom he felt only contempt, the colonel of the British line hurled fresh insults at them and shouted blasphemous orders to his own men by turns. It was while he was trying to im- press his scarlet-coated regulars with the belief that their foes were hardly worth their notice that the "Tall Watauga Boys" raised a shout. It was the mountain battle cry which has since become famous as the "Ten- nessee vell," and was caught up in succession by Shel- by's, Campbell's, McDowell's, and Cleveland's men with a vigor that sent a tremor down Ferguson's line, unnerving the British soldiers as if it had been a blast from the trumpets of Gideon's band. Even Major De Peyster, their second in command, was struck by despair in hearing the shout, and exclaimed: "These are those yelling woodsmen. Everything goes down before them."
Not so, Colonel Ferguson. With pride stung to the quick, he tore up and down his ranks on horseback, swearing at his men, shaming them, and abusing them for cowardice. By dint of his efforts they took heart again, and the fight began in earnest.
Near the center, Sevier's mountaineers had sprung to the barricades and thrust their guns over the top- most stones. "Single out your men, take aim, and fire," cried their leader, and instantly with the sharp crack of backwoods rifles a path was mowed through the thick of the British ranks. The closely massed Tories there formed a broad target for picked rifle- men. In vain De Peyster came with a charge of bay- onets against the men behind the wall. Out of one
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hundred soldiers led by him to the barricades only twelve escaped the bullets of the Watauga boys.
Ferguson saw the danger. Summoning his cavalry by a blast on his silver whistle, he hurried with them to charge the dangerous marksmen. This was only to offer to their skill an easier mark. As fast as the horsemen approached they were dispatched by the sharpshooters. Ferguson himself was almost the only one unhurt when he abandoned the attempt to dislodge Sevier, and turned his attention elsewhere.
By this time Campbell, having gained the top of the hill, spurred forward, waving his ancestral clay- more of the Argyles above his head as he cried : "Here they are, my brave boys! Shout like wild beasts, and fight like men!" a conspicuous evidence of courage which brought the infuriated Ferguson on him in person. The British commander massed his Redcoats in Campbell's path. With the order to charge bay- onets he advanced and pressed the Americans back- ward down the hill. Shelby's and Cleveland's men, coming up from the opposite side and seeing the backs of the Redcoats turned toward themselves, thought their foes were running. "They are retreating! The enemy are retreating !" shouted the deceived Amer- icans, as they rushed after them in pursuit.
Attacked at the same time in front and rear, Fer- guson turned to face first one foe and then the other, as would any maddened creature when encircled by angry hornets. When the British whirled about to fight Shelby and Cleveland, Campbell's men followed after, hurrying them uphill with a hot fire behind them. Thus Shelby's men were driven ahead of the enemy across the ridge and quite down to the bottom
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on the other side. Cleveland, who had got in behind the British, followed with Campbell hard behind Fer- guson's men.
In the confusion, lines became so mixed that the soldiers could hardly tell who were friends or foes on either side. A wreath of smoke hung around the summit of the mountain. Along its sides smoke gath- ered in billows which were rent with flashes of fire that revealed here and there where the troops of Cleveland, Campbell, Shelby, and McDowell were struggling with the enemy.
In the thick of the fight, near the foot of the hill, stood Campbell, halfway between the head of his col- umn and the British, shouting to his men: "Now, boys, reload, and give them another fire!" Warmly he implores them to remember their homes and rally to the charge. But they appear not to hear his en- treaties. They are deaf, as it seems, to his commands. Their limbs seem palsied by a shout that reaches them from the British lines. Again they hear the exultant cry of their enemies as they call out: "Tarletan and his legion are coming!" If this be true, if the cruel Tarletan, who shows no mercy, gives no quarter, and loses no battles, is near, then farewell to hope. In their dread of such a mischance the patriots lose con- fidence. They are beginning to waver. It is useless for Campbell to exhort them, saying: "Come on! An- other gun will do it!" "Tarletan and his legion are coming !" rings out again. The bare idea of fresh troops arriving to aid the enemy unnerves the hands of the patriots. Although their leader's voice rises above the crash and din of battle in ceaseless efforts to rally his men, they do not move, and Campbell is in despair.
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Old Tales Retold.
But Sevier has also heard the British cry, and knows its full meaning. He realizes that a break in one part of the field will bring defeat at every point. Almost with the thought he is at Campbell's side, bringing half of his own men with him. The sight of one who always claims victory is good for the panic-strick- en troops. When the British cry again, "Tarletan is coming !" Sevier has only to say, "Let them come on, my men, Gibbs and Moore and their Tories, and Tarle- tan and his dragoons to boot," to calm their excited minds. And when he further reasons with them, saying, "One more charge will finish Ferguson, and then we will finish Tarletan and his Tories," he is an- swered from the ranks with cheers. The words of a man who has fought a hundred battles and never yet been defeated carry peculiar weight. As if in- spired by him with the spirit of victory, the patriots leaped forward and pushed the British before them. The sudden onset was irresistible. When the Red- coats faltered under its fury, all the Americans be- gan to close in around them at once. Bullets from the Hornets' Nest were stinging Ferguson's ranks on every side. The narrowing circle of marksmen was finally drawn so close about the British that the mis- siles flying from this side and that crossed each other in the air. Ferguson himself was in instant peril as he dashed from end to end of his lines, shouting and sounding his shrill whistle to stimulate or direct his men. Though he found himself completely hemmed in, he declared there should be no surrender as long as he lived. With his own hands he tore down the white flag which the Tories had raised a moment be- fore. Scarcely had it been lowered before another
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On to King's Mountain.
white signal was fluttering from a pole at the other end of the line. Spurring his horse to the spot, Colo- nel Ferguson hacked the staff in two with his sword, exclaiming as he did so: "I will never surrender to a lot of banditti."
Though De Peyster represented to his chief that they could hold out no longer, Ferguson swore he would not yield. He would not yield, but he had despaired of success. It was impossible, perhaps, to save his army, but it might be that by flight he could avoid for himself the shame of surrendering to the backwoods leaders. With sudden resolve, the Brit- ish commander whirled his horse and, riding toward the thinnest part of the American lines, made a dash for escape. Boldly he cut his way, hacking right and left, until his sword was broken and fell, useless, from his hand.
It was so quickly done that no one suspected his purpose. He was almost free, when the cry, "Look- out for Ferguson!" was raised. The fugitive was headed off barely in time. Turned back on one side and another, the baffled officer, by ill luck, sprang to- ward Sevier's riflemen. Gilliland, the first one he passed, would have brought him down had he been able with his wounded arm to lift his gun. Being un- able to shoot, he could only raise the alarm by crying : "There he goes! There's Ferguson! Shoot him, Rob- ert Young !"
Not waiting on Robert Young, Darling Jones, an- other Wataugan, sighted along his rifle and fired, as he drawled out : "I'll see what 'Sweet Lips' can do." The bullet that killed Patrick Ferguson, Colonel of the Seventy-First Regiment of the British infantry,
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went singing out of an old musket from the Hornets' Nest. The enemy of freedom fell dead, and the king's cause was touched in a vital spot.
Rounds of cheers from free throats told the friends over there on the opposite hill that the patriots had won. From their triumphant cries the Tories learned that all was over for them. The white flag was up again, and De Peyster was asking for quarter. It was a complete victory which the frontiersmen, de- spised by Ferguson, had won over his regular troops and well-trained Tories on King's Mountain; but the fruits of the victory were yet to be secured.
"Close up and surround the enemy," ordered Colo- nel Campbell. The various regiments promptly obeyed. "Double guard !" he cried, and his men stood four deep around their prisoners. To the latter, crowded together in the center, Campbell called in a loud voice, saying : "Lay down your arms!" With a clang, seven hundred muskets rattled to the ground. Then Campbell's battle-stained face shone with en- thusiasm as he faced his ranks and cried: "Three huzzas for liberty !" A notable shout rang around the mountain in response, a sound at which the women, listening on the hillside, wept for joy.
While cries of triumph were still in the air, it was discovered that there were more prisoners than there were patriots to hold them. At the same time an offi- cer suggested that they had "only to seize their guns and fight the battle over again," if reinforcements should even now arrive. In consequence of such an apprehension the prisoners were at once ordered away from their arms, of which the Americans took prompt possession.
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On to King's Mountain.
The last shot had been fired on King's Mountain. The battle was over. Night was coming on, and it was turning cold. The chill air began to stiffen the limbs of the tired victors. Before they could realize their own happy feelings their eyes grew heavy with sleep and many of them dropped to the ground where they were, to take their rest on the battlefield. There they slept all night, almost as quietly as the dead around them. A small party of foot soldiers, however, preferred not to remain with the rest. They started wearily to walk over to the hillside beyond, to join their waiting families.
Whether or not they would be recognized, with their smoke-blackened faces, tumbled hair, and ban- daged limbs, was doubtful. So thought Joseph Hern- don, whose head was bound in a handkerchief, and who was further disguised by having his face dark with powder burns, and his eyebrows singed off. In the midst of his cogitations he saw two little boys coming toward him down the hill. In all innocence, the elder of the two asked him: "Have you seen our daddy ?"
A humorous smile played over Herndon's mouth. "What is his name?" he asked of the child.
"His name is Joseph Herndon, sir, and our mother has sent us to hunt for him."
"Why, don't you know your old daddy?" cried the father, as he strained both little fellows to his breast.
In glad reunions like this, or else in heavy sleep, the rank and file passed the night after the battle ; but not so with the officers. In spite of pain and fatigue, they watched and waited all night for the coming of Tarletan's legion. If it, all fresh and
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strong, should fall upon their exhausted little band, what then ?
Amid anxious thought and great bodily suffering the long night passed at last. And with the rising of a brilliant sun rose hope and courage. Col. John Sevier, buoyant as usual, rode among his men cheer- ing them and praising them for the victory they had won the day before. And referring to the future he said: "The tide will turn from this hour, in favor of the Americans."
His prediction was verified by after events. From the date of the battle of King's Mountain the Amer- ican cause was successful. One victory followed an- other in various parts of the country until the final triumph at Yorktown set our forefathers free. Long before that happy day the North Carolina refugees had been restored to peaceful possession of their farms and dwellings, and the Hornets' Nest beyond the mountain had been rid forever of meddling foreigners.
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· X.
A FAMOUS RESCUE .*
IT was almost past belief that John Sevier had been handcuffed and thrown in prison. Yet it was true that the hero of King's Mountain, and of a hun- dred battles besides, had spent the night in chains, con- fined in a house near Jonesboro, in the Watauga settle- ment. At sunrise he was on his way across the moun- tain to Morganton, N. C., under guard of State offi- cers, to be tried for high treason. And what was his crime? Only that he had loved too well the over- mountain land that afterwards came to be called Ten- nessee.
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