* Major Patrick Ferguson was a Scotchman, a son of the eminent jurist, James Ferguson, and nephew of Patrick Murray (Lord Elibank). He entered the army in Flanders at the age of eighteen years. He came to America in the spring of 1777. and was active in the battle on the Brandywine, in September of that year. He was active on the Hudson in 1779, and accompanied Sir Henry Clinton to South Carolina. He so distinguished himself at the siege of Charleston in 1780, that he was particularly mentioned by the commander-in-chief. He was on the high road to military fame, when he was slain on King's Mountain. His rank is incorrectly given on the monument. He was only a major.
Execution of Tories.—Character of the Battle-ground.—One of Sumter's Men.—Route to the Cowpens
On the morning after the battle,Oct. 8, 1780 a court-martial was held, and several of the Tory prisoners were found guilty of murder and other high crimes, and hanged. Colonel Cleaveland had previously declared that if certain persons, who were the chief marauders, and who had forfeited their lives, should fall into his hands, he would hang them. Ten of these men were suspended upon a tulip-tree, which is yet standing—a venerable giant of the forest. This was the closing scene of the battle on King's Mountain, an event, which completely crushed the spirits of the Loyalists, and weakened, beyond recovery, the royal power in the Carolinas. Intelligence of the defeat of Ferguson destroyed all Cornwallis's hopes of Tory aid. He instantly left Charlotte, retrograded, and established his camp at Winnsborough,Oct. 29, 1780 in Fairfield District, between the Wateree and Broad Rivers.
It was from this point he commenced the pursuit of Morgan and General Greene, after the battle at the Cowpens, as detailed in a preceding chapter.
After making the sketch on page 629, and that of the monument on King's Mountain, we rode back to Mr. Leslie's. It was twilight when we arrived; for we had proceeded leisurely along the way, viewing the surrounding scenery. I could perceive at almost every turn of our sinuous road the originals of Kennedy's graphic sketches in the scenery of Horse Shoe Robinson, and a recurrence to that tale at the house of Mr. Leslie awoke pleasing reminiscences connected with its first perusal. On our return, we ascertained that the grandfather of Mr. Leslie, the venerable William M'Elwees, had just arrived. His company for the evening was a pleasure I had not anticipated. He was one of Sumter's partisan corps, and fought with him at Rocky Mount and Hanging Rock. He was also in the battle at Guilford, and during the whole war was an active Whig. Mr. M'Elwees was eighty-seven years of age when I saw him,Jan. 1849 yet his intellect seemed unclouded. His narrative of stirring incidents, while following Sumter, was clear and vivid; and when, at a late hour, the family knelt at the domestic altar, a prayer went up from that patriarch's lips, equal in fervid eloquence, both in words and accents, to any thing I ever heard from the pulpit.
A cold, starry night succeeded my visit to the battle-ground on King's Mountain, and at sunrise the next morning I was on my way to the Broad River and the Cowpens. The ground was frozen and very rough. I traversed King's Mountain in a northwesterly direction, and in the deep narrow valley at its western base crossed King's Creek, a large and rapid stream. The country over which I passed, from Leslie's to Ross's Ferry, on the Broad River, a distance of twenty-one miles, is exceedingly rough and hilly. In some places the road was deep gullied by rains; in others, where it passed through recent clearings, stumps and branches were in the way, endangering the safety of wheel and hoof. Within a mile of the ferry, I discovered that the front axle of my wagon was broken, evidently by striking a stump; but, with the aid of a hatchet and strong cord with which I had provided myself, I was enabled to repair the damage temporarily.
The sun was about an hour high when I reached the eastern bank of the Broad River, a little below the mouth of Buffalo Creek. The house of Mrs. Ross, the owner of the ferry, was upon the opposite side. For more than half an hour I shouted and made signals with a white handkerchief upon my whip, before I was discovered, when a shrill whistle responded, and in a few minutes a fat negro came to the opposite shore, and crossed, with a miserable bateau or river flat, to convey me over. The river, which is there about one hundred and twenty yards wide, was quite shallow, and running with a rapid current, yet the ferryman had the skill to "pole" his vessel across without difficulty. I was comfortably lodged at the house of Mrs. Ross for the night, and passed the evening very agreeably in the company of herself and two intelligent daughters. Here I observed, what I so frequently saw in the upper country of the Carolinas, among even the affluent planters—the windows without sashes or glass. In the coldest weather these and the doors are left wide open, the former being closed at night by tight shutters. Great light-wood (pine) fires in the huge chimney-
Ventilation of Southern Houses.—Thicketty Mountain.—Loss of Way.—Visit to the Cowpens Battle ground.
places constantly blazing, in a measure beat back or temper the cold currents of air which continually flow into the dwellings. This ample ventilation in cold weather is universally practiced at the South. At Hillsborough and Charlotte, I observed the boarders at the hotels sitting with cloaks and shawls on at table, while the doors stood wide open! I was now within fifteen miles of the Cowpens, and at daybreak the next morningJan 1849 started for that interesting locality.