SIGNS OF A GATHERING STORM.—MUSTER OF THE BACKWOODSMEN.
In arms the huts and hamlets rise,
From winding glen, from upland brown,
They poured each hardy tenant down.—Lady of the Lake.
In gathering up the ends of our story, as we draw towards a conclusion, we are forced, after the fashion of a stirring drama, to a frequent change of scene. Accordingly, leaving Mildred and her friends to pursue their own way until we shall find leisure to look after their footsteps, we must introduce our reader to some new acquaintances, whose motions, it will be seen, are destined greatly to influence the interests of this history.
The time was about the second of October, when a considerable body of troops were seen marching through that district which is situated between the Allegany mountain and the head waters of Catawba, in North Carolina. This force might have numbered perhaps something over one thousand men. Its organization and general aspect were sufficiently striking to entitle it to a particular description. It consisted almost entirely of cavalry; and a spectator might have seen in the rude, weather-beaten faces, and muscular forms of the soldiers, as well as in the simplicity of their equipments, a hastily-levied band of mountaineers, whose ordinary pursuits had been familiar with the arduous toils of Indian warfare and the active labors of the chase. They were, almost without exception, arrayed in the hunting shirt—a dress so dear to the recollections of the revolution, and which, it is much to be regretted, the foppery of modern times has been allowed to displace. Their weapons in but few instances were other than the long rifle and its accompanying hunting-knife.
It was to be observed that this little army consisted of various corps, which were in general designated either by the color of the hunting-shirt, or by that of the fringe with which this cheap and simple uniform was somewhat ostentatiously garnished. Some few were clad in the plain, homespun working-dress of the time; and here and there, an officer might be recognised in the blue and buff cloth of the regular Continental army. The buck-tail, also, was an almost indispensable ornament of the cap, or usual round hat of the soldiers; and where this was wanting, its place was not unfrequently supplied by sprigs of green pine or holly, or other specimens of the common foliage of the country.
The men were mounted on lean, shaggy, and travel-worn horses of every variety of size, shape, and color; and their baggage consisted of nothing more cumbersome than a light wallet attached to the rear of their saddles, or of a meagrely supplied pair of saddle-bags. The small party on foot were in no wise to be distinguished from the mounted men, except in the absence of horses, and in the mode of carrying their baggage, which was contained in knapsacks of deer-skin strapped to their shoulders. These moved over the ground with, perhaps, even more facility than the cavalry, and appeared in no degree to regret the toil of the march, which was so far the lighter to them, as they were exempt from the solicitude which their companions suffered of providing forage for their beasts.
The officers in command of this party were young men, in whose general demeanor and bearing was to be seen that bold, enterprising, and hardy character, which at that period, even more than at present, distinguished the frontier population. The frequent expeditions against the savages, which the times had rendered familiar to them, as well as the service of the common war, in which they had all partaken, had impressed upon their exteriors the rugged lines of thoughtful soldiership.
The troops now associated, consisted of distinct bodies of volunteers, who had each assembled under their own leaders, without the requisition of the government, entirely independent of each other, and more resembling the promiscuous meeting of hunters than a regularly-organized military corps.
They had convened, about a week before the period at which I have presented them to my reader, at Wattauga, on the border of Tennessee, in pursuance of an invitation from Shelby, who was now one of the principal officers in command. He had himself embodied a force of between two and three hundred men, in his own district of the mountains; and Colonel Campbell, now also present, had repaired to the rendezvous with four hundred soldiers from the adjoining county in Virginia. These two had soon afterwards formed a junction with Colonels M'Dowell and Sevier, of North Carolina, who had thus augmented the joint force to the number which I have already mentioned as constituting the whole array. They had marched slowly and wearily from the mountains into the district of country which lay between the forks of Catawba, somewhere near to the present village of Morgantown—and might now be said to be rather hovering in the neighborhood of Ferguson, then advancing directly towards him. The force of the British partisan was, as yet, too formidable for the attack of these allies, and he was still in a position to make his way in safety to the main army under Cornwallis—at this time stationed at Charlotte, some seventy or eighty miles distant. It was both to gain increase of force, from certain auxiliaries who were yet expected to join them, as also, without exciting suspicion of their purpose, to attain a position from which Ferguson might more certainly be cut off from Cornwallis, that the mountain leaders lingered with such wily delay upon their march.
Ferguson was all intent upon Clarke—little suspecting the power which could summon up, with such incredible alacrity, an army from the woods fit to dispute his passage through any path of the country; and, profiting by this confidence of the enemy, Shelby and his associates were preparing, by secret movements, to put themselves in readiness to spring upon their quarry at the most auspicious moment. In accordance with this plan, Colonel Williams, who yet preserved his encampment on the Fair Forest, was on the alert to act against the British leader, who still marched further south—at every step lengthening the distance between himself and his commander-in-chief, and so far favoring the views of his enemy. Shelby and his comrades only tarried until their numbers should be complete, designing as speedily as possible after that to form a junction with Williams, and at once enter upon an open and hot pursuit of their adversary.
Their uncertainty in regard to the present condition of Clarke added greatly to their desire to strike, as early as possible, their meditated blow. This officer had, a few weeks before, commenced his retreat from Augusta through Ninety-Six, with some five hundred men, closely followed by Brown and Cruger, and threatened by the Indian tribes who inhabited the wilderness through which he journeyed. The perils and hardships of this retreat arose not only from the necessity Clarke was under to plunge into the inhospitable and almost unexplored wilderness of the Allegany, by a path which would effectually baffle his pursuers as well as escape the toils of Ferguson; but they were painfully enhanced by the incumbrance of a troop of women and children, who, having already felt the vengeance of the savages, and fearing its further cruelties, and the scarcely less ruthless hatred of the Tories, preferred to tempt the rigors of the mountain rather than remain in their own dwellings. It is said that these terrified and helpless fugitives amounted to somewhat above three hundred individuals.
There were no incidents of the war of independence that more strikingly illustrated the heroism which grappled with the difficulties of that struggle at its gloomiest moment, than the patient and persevering gallantry of these brave wanderers and their confederates, whom we have seen lately assembled in arms. History has not yet conferred upon Clarke and his companions their merited tribute of renown. Some future chronicler will find in their exploits a captivating theme for his pen, when he tells the tale of their constancy, even in the midst of the nation's despair; until fortune, at length successfully wooed, rewarded their vigilance, bravery, and skill, by enabling them to subdue and destroy the Tory Ascendency in the south.
The enemy, swarming in all the strong places, elate with recent victory, well provided with the muniments of war, high in hope and proud of heart, hunted these scattered, destitute, and slender bands, with a keenness of scent, swiftness of foot, and exasperation of temper, that can only be compared to the avidity of the bloodhound. This eagerness of pursuit was, for the present, directed against Clarke; and it is one of the most fortunate circumstances that belong to the events I have been relating, that this purpose of waylaying our gallant partisan so completely absorbed the attention of Ferguson, as to cause him to neglect the most ordinary precautions for securing himself against the reverses of the war.
In this state of things, Shelby and his compatriots waited for the moment when they might direct their march immediately to the attack of the British soldier—their anxiety stimulated to a painful acuteness by the apprehension that Clarke might be overpowered by his enemies, or that Cornwallis might receive information of the gathering bands, and make a timely movement to reinforce or protect his outpost. It was in this moment of doubt and concern that we have chosen to present them in the course of our narrative.
The troops had halted about the middle of the day, to take some refreshment. The ground they had chosen for this purpose was a narrow valley or glen, encompassed by steep hills, between which a transparent rivulet wound its way over a rough, stony bed. The margin of the stream was clothed with grass of the liveliest verdure, and a natural grove of huge forest trees covered the whole level space of the valley. The season was the most pleasant of the year, being at that period when, in the southern highlands, the hoar frost is first seen to sparkle on the spray at early dawn. The noon-tide sun, though not oppressively warm, was still sufficiently fervid to render the shade of the grove, and the cool mountain brook in the deep ravine, no unpleasant objects to wearied travellers. Here the whole of our little army were scattered through the wood; some intent upon refreshing their steeds in the running water, many seated beneath the trees discussing their own slender means, and not a few carelessly and idly loitering about the grounds in the enjoyment of the mere exemption from the constraint of discipline. The march of the troops on this day had not exceeded ten or twelve miles:—they might have been said to creep through the woods. Still, however, they had been in motion ever since the dawn of day; and as they measured the ground with their slow but ceaseless footfall, there was a silent disquiet and an eagerness of expectation, that were scarcely less fatiguing than more rapid and laborious operations.
"Cleveland will certainly join us?" said Shelby, as, in the vacancy of the hour, he had fallen into company with his brother officers, who were now assembled on the margin of the brook. "It is time he were here. I am sick of this slow work. If we do not make our leap within the next two or three days, the game is lost."
"Keep your temper, Isaac," replied Campbell, who, being somewhat older than his comrade, assumed the freedom indicated in this reply, and now laughed as he admonished the fretful soldier. "Keep your temper! Williams is below, and on the look-out; and most usefully employed in enticing Ferguson as far out of reach of my lord Buzzard, there at Charlotte, as we could wish him. Ben Cleveland will be with us all in good time: take my word for that. You forget that he had to muster his lads from Wilkes and Surry both."
"And Brandon and Lacy are yet to join us," said M'Dowell.
"Damn it, they should be here, man!" interrupted Shelby again; "I hate this creaking of my boots upon the soft grass, as if we had come to fish for gudgeons. I am for greasing our horses' heels and putting them to service."
"You were always a hot-headed devil," interrupted Campbell again, "and have wasted more shoe-leather than discretion in this world, by at least ten to one. You are huntsman enough to know, Isaac, that it is sometimes well to steal round the game to get the wind of them. Your headlong haste would only do us harm."
"You!" rejoined Shelby, with a laugh, excited by Campbell's face of good humor. "Verily, you are a pattern of sobriety and moderation yourself, to be preaching caution to us youngsters! All wisdom, forecast, and discretion, I suppose, have taken up their quarters in your wiry-haired noddle! How in the devil it came to pass, William, that yonder green and grey shirts should have trusted themselves with such a piece of prudence at their head, is more than I can guess."
At this moment a soldier pressed forward into the circle of officers:
"A letter for Colonel Shelby," he said, "brought by a trooper from Cleveland."
"Ah, ha! This looks well," exclaimed Shelby, as he ran his eyes over the lines. "Cleveland is but ten miles behind, and desires us to wait his coming."
"With how many men?" asked one of the party.
"The rogue has forgotten to tell. I'll warrant, with all he could find."
"With a good party, no doubt," interrupted Sevier. "I know the Whigs of Wilkes and Surry will not be backward."
"From this despatch, gentlemen, I suppose we shall rest here for the night—what say you?" was the interrogatory proposed to the group by Shelby.
The proposition was agreed to, and the several officers repaired to their commands. As soon as this order was communicated to the troops, everything assumed the bustle incident to the preparation of a temporary camp. Fires were kindled, the horses tethered, guards detailed, and shelters erected of green wood cut from the surrounding forest. In addition to this, a few cattle had been slaughtered from a small herd that had been driven in the rear of the march; and long before night came on, the scene presented a tolerably comfortable bivouac of light-hearted, laughing woodsmen, whose familiar habits at home had seasoned them to this forest-life, and gave to their present enterprise something of the zest of a pastime.
In the first intervals of leisure, parties were seen setting out into the neighboring hills in pursuit of game; and when the hour of the evening meal arrived, good store of fat bucks and wild turkeys were not wanting to flavor a repast, to which a sauce better than the wit of man ever invented, was brought by every lusty feeder of the camp.
At sundown, a long line of woodland cavalry, in all respects armed and equipped in the same fashion with those who already occupied the valley, were seen winding down the rugged road which led from the high grounds to the camp. At the first intimation of the approach of this body, the troops below were ordered out on parade, and the new-comers were received with all the military demonstrations of respect and joy usual at the meeting of friendly bodies of soldiers. Some dozen horns of the harshest tones, and with the most ear-piercing discord, kept up an incessant braying, until the alarmed echoes were startled from a thousand points amongst the hills. In spite of the commands of officers, straggling shots of salutation were fired, and loud greetings of individual acquaintances were exchanged from either ranks, as the approaching body filed across the whole front of the drawn-up line. When this ceremony was over, Colonel Cleveland rode up to the little group of officers who awaited his report, and, after a long and hearty welcome, announced his command to consist of three hundred and fifty stout hearts, ready and tried friends to the issues of the war.
The force of the confederates, by this accession, now amounted to about fourteen hundred men. It became necessary, at this juncture, to give to these separate bands a more compact character, and with that view it was indispensable that the command of the whole should be committed to one of the present leaders. In the difficulty and delicacy of selecting an individual for this duty, the common opinion inclined to the propriety of submitting the appointment to General Gates. A messenger was accordingly despatched on that night, to repair to the American head-quarters at Hillsborough, to present this subject to the attention of the General. In the meantime, Shelby, whose claim, perhaps, to the honor of leading the expedition was most worthy of consideration, with that patriotic and noble postponement of self which occurs so frequently in the history of the men of the Revolution, himself suggested the expediency of conferring the command upon his friend Campbell, until the pleasure of Gates should be known. The suggestion was heartily adopted, and Colonel William Campbell was accordingly, from this moment, the chosen leader of our gallant and efficient little army.
On the following day the troops were in motion at an early hour—designing to advance, with a steady pace, towards Gilbert-town, and thence on the track of the enemy across the border into South Carolina. In the course of the forenoon, the vanguard were met by a small body of horsemen, whose travel-worn plight and haggard aspects showed that they had lately been engaged in severe service. They were now in quest of the very party whom they had thus fortunately encountered upon the march; and it was with a lively demonstration of joy that they now rode with the officer of the guard into the presence of Campbell and his staff. Their report announced them to be Major Chandler and Captain Johnson, of Clarke's party, who, with thirty followers, had been despatched from the western side of the Allegany, to announce to the confederated troops the complete success of that officer's endeavor to reach the settlements on the Nolachuckie and Wattauga rivers. Their tidings were immediately communicated to the army; and the deep and earnest interest which officers and men took in this agreeable intelligence, was evinced in a spontaneous acclamation and cheering from one extremity of the column to the other. The messengers proceeded to narrate the particulars of their late hazardous expedition, and fully confirmed the most painful anticipations which the listeners had previously entertained of the difficulties, toils, and sufferings incident to the enterprise. Clarke's soldiers, they further reported, were too much disabled to be in condition immediately to recross the mountain and unite in the present movement against Ferguson; but that, as soon as they should find themselves recruited by needful rest, they would lose no time in repairing to the scene of action.
Towards sunset of the succeeding day, our sturdy adventurers entered Gilbert-town. This post had been abandoned by Ferguson, and was now in the occupation of the two staunch Whig leaders, Brandon and Lacy, at the head of about three hundred men, who had repaired thither from the adjacent mountains of Rutherford, to await the arrival of Campbell and his friends. It was manifest that affairs were rapidly tending towards a crisis. Ferguson had hitherto appeared indifferent to the dangers that threatened him and his movements indicated either a fatal contempt for his adversary, or an ignorance of the extent of his embarrassments—each equally discreditable to the high renown which has been attributed to him for careful and bold soldiership.