“Could not make out, sir, because of the darkness. Shall I cross and try to find out?”
“If you think it safe,” said the captain.
“That it is necessary is enough for me,” returned Tom, proudly.
He spurred Sultan into the water once more, and under cover of the night crossed the stream. A long line of British cavalry was stretched directly in front; they had, undoubtedly, sent word back to their main body and were now waiting for orders. Tom dismounted and took a long observation of the foe’s position; when at last he remounted and crossed the creek once more, he found that General Gates himself had ridden forward and was anxiously awaiting his report.
“Their advance is stretched all along the stream, sir,” said the lad, saluting. “And from indications their main body is coming up rapidly.”
A hasty inspection of the ground caused Gates to order his force to fall back upon some plantations in their rear; the British, not at all sure of what was awaiting them, did not cross the creek; and thus the two armies lay upon their weapons waiting for daybreak. At the first graying of the eastern heavens the British were forming to advance, and the Americans were rapidly making ready to receive them. If there was any advantage it was in favor of Cornwallis. His force was composed of veterans, who would be cool under most exigencies, while Gates’ army was, for the greater part, made up of raw volunteers.
The First Maryland division, including the Delawares under De Kalb, were posted on the right; the Virginia militia were on the left; the North Carolinians, led by the gallant Caswell were in the center, while the artillery, in battery, was in the road. Such was the formation of the American line; both wings rested upon morasses; the Second Maryland brigade was posted as a reserve a few hundred yards in the rear of the first.
The battle began with the advance of the American left—the Virginians, under Stevens. A galling rifle fire was suddenly poured into them; struck by sudden panic they turned and fled, many of them not having even discharged their pieces. This wretched example was followed by the North Carolina division in the centre, with the exception of a single corps commanded by Major Dixon. The small body of cavalry, under Armond, a foreign adventurer, broke at the same moment.
Tom Deering had been detained by the commander to carry messages and orders to different parts of the field; he saw the rout, and with sinking heart he strove to rally the fleeing militia, riding among them, waving his sabre and shouting desperately for them to stand and reform.
“Are you cowards to run at the first fire?” he shouted. “Rally, men; strike a blow for freedom and your native state.”