“We went about twelve miles,” Young said in his recollections of the battle, “and captured two British soldiers, two negroes and two horses laden with portmanteaus. One of the portmanteaus belonged to a paymaster ... and contained gold.” The other riders decided this haul was too good to risk on the road and told Young to escort the prisoners and the money back to Cowpens. Young had ridden several miles when he collided with Tarleton and his 54 troopers. Abandoning his captures, Young tried to escape. He darted down a side road, but his horse was so stiff from the hard exercise on the battlefield, the British overtook him.
“My pistol was empty so I drew my sword and made battle,” the young militiaman said. “I never fought so hard in my life.” He was hopelessly outnumbered. In a few clanging seconds, a saber split a finger on his left hand, another slashed his sword arm, a third blade raked his forehead and the skin fell over his eyes, blinding him. A saber tip speared his left shoulder, a blade sank deep into his right shoulder, and a final blow caught him on the back of the head. Young clung to his horse’s neck, half conscious.
Washington and Tarleton Duel
One of the battle’s most colorful incidents occurred at the very end. As defeat enveloped his army, Tarleton tried to rally his cavalry to the support of the infantry. His Legion dragoons, ignoring his orders and threats, stampeded off the field. Only the disciplined veterans of the 17th Dragoons followed him into battle. They ran head-on into the Continental dragoons of Lt. Col. William Washington. As sabers flashed, Washington found himself far in advance of his unit. What happened next is described in a passage from John Marshall’s famous Life of George Washington, written when the event still lingered in the memory of contemporaries: “Observing [Washington about 30 yards in front of his regiment], three British officers wheeled about and attacked him; the officer on his left was aiming to cut him down, when a sergeant came up and intercepted the blow by disabling the sword-arm, at the same instant the officer on his right was about to make a stroke at him, when a waiter, too small to wield a sword, saved him by wounding the officer with a pistol. At this moment, Tarleton made a thrust at him, which he parried, upon which the officer [Tarleton] retreated a few paces and discharged his pistol at him....”
It is this account that probably inspired the artist William Ranney in 1845 to paint the vigorous battle scene spread across these pages. Washington and Tarleton (on the black horse) raise their swords in the center while Washington’s servant boy levels his pistol at the far dragoon. While the painting errs in details of costume—Washington and his sergeant should be dressed in white coats, not green, and the British should be in green, not red—it catches the spirit of the duel.
He was battered and bleeding, but his courage saved his life. With the peculiar sportsmanship that the British bring to war, they took him off his horse, bandaged his wounds, and led him back to the main road, where they rejoined Tarleton and the rest of his party. One of the Tory guides that had led the British through the back country to Cowpens recognized Young and announced he was going to kill him. He cocked his weapon. “In a moment,” Young said, “about twenty British soldiers drew their swords, cursed him for a coward wishing to kill a boy without arms and a prisoner, and ran him off.”
Tarleton ordered Young to ride beside him. He asked him many questions about Morgan’s army. He was particularly interested in how many dragoons Washington had. “He had seventy,” Young said, “and two volunteer companies of mounted militia. But you know, they [the militia] won’t fight.”
“They did today,” Tarleton replied.
10
On the battlefield at Cowpens, Surgeons Robert Jackson of the 71st Highlanders and Richard Pindell of the 1st Maryland were doing their limited best to help the wounded of both sides. There were 62 patriots and 200 British in need of medical attention, which consisted largely of extracting musket balls, if possible, bandaging wounds, and giving sufferers some opium or whiskey, if any was available. The battle had also cost the British 110 dead, including 10 officers. Only 12 patriots were killed in the battle, though many more died later of wounds. But it was the number of prisoners—some 530—that underscored the totality of the American victory.