The American army thus driven out of North Carolina, Lord Cornwallis, after giving his troops a day’s rest, led them slowly back to Hillsborough, the seat of the state government, where he erected the royal standard, and issued a proclamation inviting all loyal subjects to repair to him and aid in restoring the constitutional government to the colony. We have mentioned the sufferings of the American army—those of the British were not much less. “The wants and distresses of the English troops,” says the British chronicler of these events, “were only equalled by their toils and fatigues. They traversed a country which was alternately a wild and inhospitable forest, or inhabited by a people who were, at least, highly adverse, however they might venture or not to be hostile. When to these are added all the possible incommodities incident to bad roads, heavy rains, want of cover, and the continual wading through numberless deep creeks and rivers in the depth of winter, some idea may be formed of their sufferings.”
While these events were going forward, and the state authorities having fled from Hillsborough to Newbern, a British detachment from Wilmington marched to that place, entered it without impediment, burned the shipping, and having destroyed all the salt, sugar, rum, and stores of every kind, returned to Wilmington.
In response to the proclamation of Lord Cornwallis, the Tories of North Carolina began to embody themselves, and on February 21st, Tarleton was despatched into the district between the Haw and Deep rivers to assist in their organisation. In the meantime, General Greene, reinforced by a body of Virginians, re-entered North Carolina, and hearing of this movement among the Tories, sent Colonel Lee, with a body of militia, to prevent it. On his way Lee encountered the newly-embodied loyalist troops, with whom Tarleton had not yet come up, and they mistaking these troops for those of their friends, eagerly made known their loyalty by shouts of “Long live the King!” when being at once surrounded by the Americans, the greater number were cut to pieces, and the remainder made prisoners.
Greene, though still receiving reinforcements, did not consider himself as yet strong enough to encounter an engagement; and in order to avoid surprise, took up a new position every night, never informing any person the day before where his next encampment would be. Indeed, the strict reserve which this commander maintained regarding his plans caused the utmost embarrassment to the British throughout the whole southern campaign. The prisoners taken on any occasion from the American army would give no account of the numbers and disposition of the troops, nor yet of the ground where they lay. Lord Cornwallis complains repeatedly, that “either from stupidity or design the country people would give him no information, or if they did, it was unintelligible or contradictory; the little reliance to be placed on any information which was obtained being among the distinguishing features of the war in this province.”
Lord Cornwallis moved from point to point, anxious to cover the country and afford the loyalists encouragement and opportunity to join his army, and at the same time to keep open the communication of Cape Fear River, which the “grievous distresses” of his army rendered necessary. At length, towards the middle of March, Greene’s forces, now amounting to about 4,500 men, and being at a great distance from his supplies, and in the midst of a country where his friends were few and wavering, he, too, sought a battle in his turn. For many days Cornwallis had been harassed by uncertain rumours as to the course of his enemy, when, on the 15th, he received the authentic intelligence that Greene had reached Guilford, twelve miles only from the British camp, and that a battle might be expected.
The country in which the two armies were to meet was a wilderness covered with tall wood, and a thick undergrowth of shrubs, with here and there a clearing. Greene, having left his baggage seventeen miles in the rear, posted his men on advantageous ground on a wooded hill with an open field in front, about two miles from Guilford Court-house. The North Carolina militia, many of them compelled to serve as a punishment for their suspected loyalty, were posted in the front. At the first charge these militia fled, throwing away their arms and knapsacks; the Virginian militia, however, stood firm and fought resolutely for a considerable time, when, being driven back, the action became general; but owing to the nature of the ground the order of battle was completely broken, and consisted rather of a series of irregular, hard-fought and bloody skirmishes. At length the Americans were driven back, and their artillery captured, when Greene ordered a retreat, which was made without confusion, and the same night he reached the Iron Works of Troublesome Creek, at eighteen miles’ distance.
The loss on both sides was said to be between 400 and 500; and as the fighting had extended over a great space of ground, the wounded were scattered as widely. “There were neither houses nor tents to receive them,” says Hildreth. “The night that followed the battle was dark and tempestuous; horrid shrieks resounded through the woods; many expired before the morning.”
The Americans were routed, but the British were in no condition to follow them; the troops in the first instance were worn down by the excessive fatigues of a long march; their wounded, which lay so wide and so ill provided for, required attention; and besides, such was the desolate state of the country, that during the two days they remained here they had no bread, nor was forage to be obtained nearer than nine miles; and though the victory was gained in a part of the country which boasted of its loyalty, very little assistance was given, nor did any great number join the royal cause. Leaving, therefore, seventy of the worst wounded behind him, in a Quakers’ meeting-house converted into a hospital, Lord Cornwallis retired by easy marches to Cross Creek, now Fayetteville, again issuing a proclamation, and using all means in his power to encourage and call forth the loyalists of the district, but with little effect. He was disappointed also in the store of provisions which he expected to have found here; the absolute scarcity compelled him still to advance; and after a toilsome circuitous march of 200 miles, the victors, who according to their own phrase, “had gained so much glory at Guilford,” reached Wilmington worn out and famished, and thankful to find at length shelter and rest.
Though Greene did not fare much better as regarded the subsistence of his army, no sooner had Cornwallis retired towards Wilmington, than he determined to march into South Carolina, now held in subjection by Lord Rawdon and a small force. Early in April, therefore, Greene was advancing through that barren region in which Gates and his troops had suffered so much eleven months before, towards Camden, where Lord Rawdon lay with about 900 loyalists. Despatching Colonel Lee with his cavalry to join Marion and other partisan corps immediately on his entering South Carolina, Greene took up his position at Hobkirk’s Mill, about two miles from Camden, and on April 25th a battle took place, the victory at first strongly inclining to the Americans. A Maryland regiment, however, falling into confusion, a rout ensued, but the loss was about equal on both sides; and in consequence of the American artillery having been run down a steep hill among some brushwood, it was overlooked by the British troops in their pursuit, and the American cavalry carried it safely away before their return. Greene retired the same night to Rugeley’s Mills, about twelve miles off, where he encamped.
The news of Greene’s bold advance into South Carolina reached Lord Cornwallis at Wilmington, too late for him to march to the succour of Lord Rawdon; he, therefore, imitating the American general’s policy, marched at once into Virginia, to join the British force under Arnold and Philips, which was committing great ravages there.