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Chapter 16:
Cornwallis and the men of the South and West.
1780.
from the moment of his victory near
Camden,
Cornwallis became the principal figure in the
British service in
America,—the pride and delight of
Germain, the desired commander-in-chief, the one man on whom rested the hopes of the ministry for the successful termination of the war. His friends disparaged the ability of
Sir Henry Clinton, accused him of hating his younger and more enterprising compeer, and censured him for leaving at the south forces disproportioned to the service for which they were required.
We are come to the series of events which closed the
American contest and restored peace to the world.
In
Europe the sovereigns of
Prussia, of
Austria, of
Russia, were offering their mediation; the united
Netherlands were struggling to preserve their neutrality;
France was straining every nerve to cope with her rival in the four quarters of the globe;
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Spain was exhausting her resources for the conquest
of
Gibraltar; but the incidents which overthrew the ministry of
North, and reconciled
Great Britain to
America, had their springs in
South Carolina.
Cornwallis, elated with success and hope, prepared for the northward march which was to conduct him from victory to victory, till he should restore all
America south of
Delaware to its allegiance.
He was made to believe that
North Carolina would rise to welcome him, and, in the train of his flatterers, he carried
Martin, its former governor, who was to re-enter on his office.
He requested
Clinton to detach three thousand men to establish a post on the
Chesapeake bay; and
Clinton knew too well the wishes of the
British government to venture to refuse.
In carrying out his plan, the first measure of Cornwallis was a reign of terror.
Professing to regard
South Carolina as restored to the dominion of George the Third, he accepted the suggestions of
Martin and
Tarleton, and the like, that severity was the true mode to hold the recovered province.
He therefore addressed the most stringent orders to the commandants at Ninety-Six and other posts, to imprison all who would not take up arms for the king, and to seize or destroy their whole property.
He most positively enjoined that every militia-man who had borne arms with the
British and had afterwards joined the
Americans should be hanged immediately.
He set up the gallows at
Camden for the indiscriminate execution of those among his prisoners who had formerly given their parole, even when it had been kept till it was cancelled by the proclamation of
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Clinton.
To bring these men to the gibbet was an
act of military murder.
The destruction of property and life assumed still more hideous forms, when the peremptory orders and example of Cornwallis were followed by subordinates in remote districts away from supervision.
Cruel measures seek and are sure to find cruel executive agents; officers whose delight was in blood patrolled the country, burned houses, ravaged estates, and put to death whom they would.
The wives and daughters of the opulent were left with no fit clothing, no shelter but a hovel too mean to attract the destroyer.
Of a sudden, the woodman in his cabin would find his house surrounded, and he himself or his guest might be shot, because he was not in arms for the king.
There was no question of proofs and no trial.
For two years cold-blooded assassinations, often in the house of the victim and in the presence of his wife and little children, were perpetrated by men holding the king's commission, and they obtained not indemnity merely, but rewards for their zeal.
The enemy were determined to break every man's spirit, or to ruin him. No engagement by proclamation or by capitulation was respected.
The ruthless administration of Cornwallis met the hearty and repeated applause of
Lord George Germain, who declared himself convinced that ‘to punish rebellion would have the best consequences.’
As to the rebels, his orders to
Clinton and Cornwallis were:
1 ‘No good faith or justice is to be expected from them, and we ought in all our transactions with them to act upon that supposition.’
In this manner
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the minister released his generals from their pledges
to those on whom they made war.
In violation of agreements, the continental soldiers who capitulated at
Charleston, nineteen hundred in number, were transferred from buildings in the town to prison-ships, where they were joined by several hundred prisoners from
Camden.
In thirteen months one-third of the whole number perished by malignant fevers; others were impressed into the
British service as mariners; several hundred young men were taken by violence on board transports, and forced to serve in a British regiment in
Jamaica, leaving wives and young children to want.
Of more than three thousand confined in prison-ships, all but about seven hundred were made away with.
On the capitulation of
Charleston, eminent patriots remained prisoners on parole.
Foremost among these stood the aged
Christopher Gadsden, whose unselfish love of country was a constant encouragement to his countrymen never to yield.
Before his majesty of character, the timid good were abashed and their oppressors were rebuked.
His persuasive example of republican virtue could not be endured; and, therefore, eleven days after the
American defeat, he and the equally inflexible
Arthur Rutledge and many others were early in the morning taken from their houses by armed parties, and transported to
St. Augustine in violation of their stipulated rights.
Gadsden and others refused to give a new parole, and were immured in the castle of
St. Mark.
The system of slaveholding kept away from defensive service not only more than half the population, whom the planters would not suffer to be armed, but
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the numerous bodies who must watch the black men,
if they were to be kept in bondage while war was raging.
Moreover, the moral force of their owners was apt to become enervated.
Men deriving their livelihood from the labor of slaves ceased to respect labor, and shunned it as a disgrace.
Some had not the courage to face the idea of poverty for themselves, still less for their wives and children.
Many fainted at the hard option between submission and ruin.
Charles Pinckney, lately president of the
South Carolina senate, classing himself among those who from the hurry and confusion of the times had been misled, desired to show every mark of allegiance.
Rawlins Lowndes, who but a few months before had been president of the
state of South Carolina, excused himself for having reluctantly given way to necessity, and accepted any test that might be required to prove that, with the unrestrained dictates of his own mind, he now attached himself to the royal government.
Henry Middleton, president of the first American congress, though still ‘partial to a cause for which he had been so long engaged,’ promised to do nothing to keep up the spirit of independence, and to demean himself as a faithful subject.
But the people of
South Carolina were never conquered.
From the moment of the fall of
Charleston,
Colonel James Williams, of the district of Ninety-Six, did not rest in gathering the armed friends of the union.
From the region above
Camden,
Sumpter and his band hovered over all British movements.
‘
Sumpter certainly has been our greatest plague in this country,’ writes Cornwallis.
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In the swamps between the
Pedee and the
Santee,
Marion and his men kept watch.
Of a delicate organization, sensitive to truth and honor and right, humane, averse to bloodshed, never wreaking vengeance nor suffering those around him to do so, scrupulously respecting private property, he had the love and confidence of all people in that part of the country.
Tarleton's legion had laid it waste to inspire terror; and, in unrestrained freedom of motion, partisans gathered round
Marion to redeem their land.
A body of three hundred royalist militia and two hundred regular troops had established a post at Musgrove's Mills on the
Enoree river.
On the eighteenth
of August they were attacked by inferior numbers under
Williams of Ninety-Six, and routed with sixty killed and more than that number wounded.
Williams lost but eleven.
2
At dawn of the twentieth, a party, convoying a
hundred and fifty prisoners of the
Maryland line, were crossing the great
Savannah near
Nelson's ferry on the
Santee, on the route from
Camden to
Charleston, when
Marion and his men sprang upon the guard, liberated the prisoners, and captured twenty-six of the escort.
‘
Colonel Marion,’ wrote Cornwallis, ‘so wrought on the minds of the people, that there was scarcely an inhabitant between the
Pedee and the
Santee that was not in arms against us. Some parties even crossed the
Santee and carried terror to the gates of
Charleston.’
Balfour, the commandant of
Charleston, wrote home: ‘In vain we expected loyalty and attachment from the inhabitants; they are the same
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stuff as compose all
Americans.’
3 The
British his-
torian of the war, who was then in
South Carolina, relates that ‘almost the whole country seemed upon the eve of a revolt.’
In the second week of September, when the heats
of summer had abated, the earlier cereal grains had been harvested and the maize was nearly ripe, Cornwallis began his projected march.
He relied on the loyalists of
North Carolina to recruit his army.
On his left,
Major Patrick Ferguson, the ablest British partisan, was sent with two hundred of the best troops to the uplands of
South Carolina, where he enlisted young men of that country, loyalists who had fled to the mountains for security, and fugitives of the worst character who sought his standard for safety and the chances of plundering with impunity.
The
Cherokees had been encouraged during the summer to join insurgent loyalists in ravaging the
American settlements west of the mountains as far as Chiswell's lead mines.
Against this danger,
Jefferson organized, in the south-western counties of the state of which he was the governor, a regiment of four hundred backwoodsmen under the command of
Colonel William Campbell, brother-in-law of
Patrick Henry; and in an interview with
William Preston, the lieutenant of
Washington county, as the southwest of
Virginia was then called, he dwelt on the resources of the country, the spirit of congress, and the character of the people; and for himself and for his state would admit no doubt that, in spite of all disasters, a continued vigorous resistance would bring the war to a happy issue.
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At
Waxhaw, Cornwallis halted for a few days, and,
Chap. XVI.} 1780 Sept. 16. |
that he might eradicate the spirit of patriotism from
South Carolina before he passed beyond its borders, he, on the sixteenth day of September, sequestered by proclamation all estates belonging to the friends of
America, and appointed a commissioner for the seizure of such estates, both real and personal.
The concealment, removal, or injury of property doomed to confiscation, was punishable as an abetting of rebellion.
The sequestration extended to debts due to the person whose possessions were confiscated; and, to prevent collusive practices, a great reward was offered to those who should make discovery of the concealment of negroes, horses, cattle, plate,
household furniture, books, bonds, deeds, and other property.
To patriots no alternative was left but to fight against their country and their consciences, or to encounter exile and poverty.
The custom of military executions of Carolinians taken in arms was vigorously maintained, and the chiefs of the Cherokees were at that very time on their way to
Augusta to receive the presents which were to stimulate their activity.
Aware of their coming,
Clark, a fugitive from
Georgia, forced his way back with one hundred riflemen; having joined to them a body of woodsmen, he defeated the
British garrison under
Colonel Brown at
Augusta, and captured the costly presents designed for the Cherokees.
The moment was critical; for Cornwallis, in his eagerness to draw strength to his own army, had not left a post or a soldier between
Augusta and
Savannah, and the alienated people had returned most reluctantly to a state of obedience.
With a
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corps of one hundred provincials and one hundred
Cherokees,
Brown maintained a position on
Garden Hill for nearly a week, when he was rescued by
Cruger from Ninety-Six.
At his approach, the
Americans retired.
On the pursuit some of them were scalped and some taken prisoners.
Of the latter,
Captain Ashby and twelve others were hanged under the eyes of
Brown; thirteen who were delivered to the Cherokees were killed by tortures, or by the tomahawk, or were thrown into fires.
Thirty in all were put to death by the orders of
Brown.
Cruger desired to waylay and capture the retreating party, and
Ferguson eagerly accepted his invitation to join in the enterprise.
Cruger moved with circumspection, taking care not to be led too far from the fortress of Ninety-Six;
Ferguson was more adventurous, having always the army of Cornwallis on his right.
On the waters of
Broad river his party encountered Macdowell with one hundred and sixty militia from Burk and
Rutherford counties in
North Carolina, pursued them to the foot of the mountains, and left them no chance of safety but in fleeing beyond
the Alleghanies.
During these events, Cornwallis encountered no serious impediment till he approached
Charlotte.
There his van was driven back by the fire of a small body of mounted men, commanded by
Colonel William Richardson Davie of
North Carolina.
The general rode up in person, and the
American party was dislodged by
Webster's brigade; but not till the little band of mounted
Americans, scarcely forty in number, had for several minutes kept the
British army at bay.
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From
Charlotte Cornwallis pursued his course
towards
Salisbury.
Meantime, the fugitives under Macdowell recounted the sorrows of their families to the emigrant freemen on the
Watauga, among whom slavery was scarcely known.
The backwoodsmen, though remote from the world, love their fellow-men.
In the pure air and life of the mountain and the forest, they join serenity with courage.
They felt for those who had fled to them; with one heart they resolved to restore the suppliants to their homes, and for that purpose formed themselves into regiments under
Isaac Shelby and
John Sevier.
Shelby despatched a messenger to
William Campbell on the forks of
Holston; and the field-officers of
southwestern Virginia unanimously resolved that he, with four hundred men, should join in the expedition.
An express was sent to
Colonel Cleaveland of
North Carolina; and all were to meet at Burk county court-house, on the waters of the
Catawba.
The three regiments from the west of
the Alleghanies under
Campbell,
Shelby, and
Sevier, and the
North Carolina fugitives under Macdowell, assembled on the twenty-fifth of September at
Watauga.
On the next
day—each man mounted on his own horse, armed
with his own rifle, and carrying his own store of provisions—they began the ride over the mountains, where the passes through
the Alleghanies are the highest.
Not even a bridle-path led through the forest, nor was there a house for forty miles between the
Watauga and the
Catawba.
The men left their families in secluded valleys, distant one from the other, exposed not only to parties of royalists, but of
Indians.
In the evening of the thirtieth, they
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formed a junction with the regiment of
Colonel Ben-
Chap. XVI.} 1780. Oct. 1. |
jamin
Cleaveland, consisting of three hundred and fifty men from the
North Carolina counties of
Wilkes and
Surrey.
The next day Macdowell was despatched to request
Gates to send them a general officer; ‘till he should arrive,
Campbell was chosen to act as commandant.’
Ferguson, who had pursued the party of Macdowell to the foot of
the Alleghanies, and had spread the terror of invasion beyond them, moved eastwardly towards Cornwallis by a road from
Buffalo ford to
King's Mountain, which offered ground for a strong encampment.
Of the parties against him he thus wrote to Cornwallis: ‘They are become an object of consequence.
I should hope for success against them myself; but, numbers compared, that must be doubtful.
Three or four hundred good soldiers, part dragoons, would finish the business.
Something must be done soon.
This is their last push in this quarter.’
On receiving this letter, Cornwallis ordered
Tarleton to march with the light infantry, the
British legion, and a three-pounder to his assistance.
At that time
Colonel James Williams was about seventy miles from
Salisbury, in the forks of the
Catawba, with nearly four hundred and fifty horsemen, in pursuit of
Ferguson.
Wise and vigilant, he kept out scouts on every side, scorning surprise; and on the second of October one of them brought him news
that ‘rejoiced his heart,’ that one-half of the whole population beyond the mountains were drawing near.
Following a path between
King's Mountain and the main ridge of
the Alleghanies, ‘the western army,’ so they called themselves, under
Campbell,
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already more than thirteen hundred strong, marched
Chap. XVI.} 1780. Oct. 6. |
to the Cowpens on
Broad river, where, on the evening of the sixth, they were joined by
Williams with four hundred men. From
Williams they learned nearly where
Ferguson's party was encamped; and a council of the principal officers decided to go that very night to strike them by surprise.
For this end they picked out nine hundred of their best horsemen; at eight o'clock on that same evening they began their march.
Riding all night, with the moon two days past its first quarter, on the afternoon of the seventh they were at the foot of
King's Mountain.
The little brook that ripples through the narrow valley flows in an easterly direction.
The mountain, which rises a mile and a half south of the line of
North Carolina, is the termination of a ridge that branches from the north-west to the south-east from a spur of
the Alleghanies.
The
British, in number eleven hundred and twenty-five, of whom one hundred and twenty-five were regulars, were posted on its summit, ‘confident that they could not be forced from so advantageous a post,’ to which the approach was precipitously steep, the slaty rock cropping out in craggy cliffs and forming natural breastworks along its sides and on its heights.
The
Americans dismounted, and, though inferior in numbers, formed themselves into four columns.
A part of
Cleaveland's regiment headed by
Major Winston, and
Colonel Sevier's regiment, formed a large column on the right wing.
The other part of
Cleaveland's regiment, headed by
Cleaveland himself, and the regiment of
Williams, composed the left wing.
The post of extreme danger was assigned to the
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column formed by
Campbell's regiment on the right
centre, and
Shelby's regiment on the left centre; so that
Sevier's right nearly adjoined
Shelby's left.
The right and left wings were to pass the position of
Ferguson, and from opposite sides climb the ridge in his rear, while the two central columns were to attack in front.
In this order ‘the western army’ advanced to within a quarter of a mile of the enemy before they were discovered.
The two centre columns, headed by
Campbell and
Shelby, climbing the mountain, began the attack.
Shelby, a man of the hardiest make, stiff as iron, among the dauntless singled out for dauntlessness, went right onward and upward like a man who had but one thing to do, and but one thought,—to do it. The British regulars with fixed bayonets charged
Campbell; and his riflemen, who had no bayonets, were obliged to give way for a short distance; but ‘they were soon rallied by their gallant commander and some of his active officers,’
4 and ‘returned to the attack with additional ardor.’
The two centre columns, with no aid but from a part of
Sevier's regiment, kept up a furious and bloody battle
5 with the
British for ten minutes,
6 when the right and left wings of the
Americans, advancing upon their flank and rear, ‘the fire became general
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all around.’
For fifty-five minutes longer the fire
on both sides was heavy and almost incessant.
The regulars with bayonets could only make a momentary impression.
At last, the right wing gained the summit of the eminence, and the position of the
British was no longer tenable.
Ferguson having been killed, the enemy attempted to retreat along the top of the ridge; but, finding themselves held in check by the brave men of
Williams and
Cleaveland,
Captain Depeyster, the
commanding officer of the
British, hoisted a flag.
The firing immediately ceased; the enemy laid down their arms and surrendered themselves prisoners at discretion.
The loss of the
British on that day was at least eleven hundred and four. Four hundred and fifty-six of them were either killed, or too severely wounded to leave the ground; the number of prisoners was six hundred and forty-eight.
On the
American side the regiment of
Campbell suffered more than any other in the action; the total loss was twenty-eight killed and sixty wounded. But among those who fell was
Colonel James Williams of Ninety-Six, a man of an exalted character, of a career brief but glorious.
An ungenerous enemy revenged themselves for his virtues by nearly extirpating his family; they could not take away his right to be remembered by his country with honor and affection to the latest time.
Among the captives there were house-burners and assassins.
Private soldiers—who had witnessed the sorrows of women and children, robbed and wronged, shelterless, stripped of all clothes but what they wore, nestling about fires kindled on the ground, and mourning for their fathers and husbands—executed nine or
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ten in retaliation for the frequent and barbarous use
of the gallows at
Camden, Ninety-Six, and
Augusta.
At once
Campbell intervened, and in general orders, by threatening the delinquents with certain and effectual punishment, secured protection to the prisoners.
7
Just below the forks of the
Catawba the tidings of the defeat reached
Tarleton; his party in all haste rejoined Cornwallis.
The victory at
King's Mountain, which in the spirit of the
American soldiers was like the rising at
Concord, in its effects like the successes at
Bennington, changed the aspect of the war. The loyalists of
North Carolina no longer dared rise.
It fired the patriots of the two Carolinas with fresh zeal.
It encouraged the fragments of the defeated and scattered American army to seek each other and organize themselves anew.
It quickened the
North Carolina legislature to earnest efforts.
It encouraged
Virginia to devote her resources to the country south of her border.
The appearance on the frontiers of a numerous enemy from settlements beyond the mountains, whose very names had been unknown to the
British, took Cornwallis by surprise, and their success was fatal to his intended expedition.
He had hoped to step with ease from one Carolina to the other, and from these to the conquest of
Virginia; and he had now no choice but to retreat.
On the evening of the fourteenth, his troops began
their march back from
Charlotte to the
Catawba ford.
The men of
Mecklenburg and
Rowan counties had disputed his advance; they now harassed his foraging parties, intercepted his despatches, and cut
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off his communications.
Soldiers of the militia.
hung on his rear.
Twenty wagons were captured, laden with stores and the knapsacks of the light infantry legion.
Single men would ride within gunshot of the retreating army, discharge their rifles, and escape.
The
Catawba ford was crossed with difficulty on account of a great fall of rain.
For two days the royal forces remained in the
Catawba settlement, Cornwallis suffering from fever, the army from want of forage and provisions.
The command on the retreat fell to
Rawdon.
The soldiers had no tents.
For several days it rained incessantly.
Waters and deep mud choked the roads.
At night the army bivouacked in the woods in unwholesome air. Sometimes it was without meat; at others without bread.
For five days it lived upon Indian-corn gathered from the fields, five ears being the day's allowance for two soldiers.
But for the personal exertions of the militia, most of whom were mounted, the army would not have been supported in the field; and yet, in return for their exertions, they were treated with derision and even beaten by insolent British officers.
After a march of fifteen days, the army encamped at
Winnsborough, an intermediate station between
Camden and Ninety-Six.
All the while
Marion had been on the alert.
hundred tories had been sent in September to sur-
prise him; and with but fifty-three men he first surprised a part of his pursuers, and then drove the main body to flight.
At Black
Mingo, on the twenty-eighth, he made a
successful attack on a guard of sixty militia, and took
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prisoners those who were under its escort.
The Brit-
ish were burning houses on Little Pedee, and he permitted his men of that district to return to protect their wives and families; but he would not suffer retaliation, and wrote with truth: ‘There is not one house burned by my orders or by any of my people.
It is what I detest, to distress poor women and children.’
‘I most sincerely hope you will get at
Mr. Marion,’ wrote Cornwallis on the fifth of November, as he de-
spatched
Tarleton in pursuit of him. This officer and his corps set fire to all the houses, and destroyed all the corn from
Camden down to
Nelson's ferry; beat the widow of a general officer because she could not tell where
Marion was encamped, burned down her dwelling, laid waste everything about it, and did not leave her a change of raiment.
The line of his march could be traced by groups of houseless women and children, once of ample fortune, sitting round fires in the open air.
As for
Marion, after having kept his movements secret, and varied his encampment every night, his numbers increased; then, selecting a strong post ‘within the dark morass,’ he defied an attack.
But just at that moment
Tarleton was recalled in haste to repel new dangers impending from another quarter.
Sumpter had rallied the patriots in the country above
Camden, and in frequent skirmishes kept the field.
Mounting his partisans, he intercepted British supplies of all sorts, and sent parties within fourteen miles of
Winnsborough.
Having ascertained the number and position of his troops, Cornwallis despatched a party under
Major Wemyss against him.
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After a march of twenty-four miles with mounted
infantry,
Wemyss reached Fishdam on
Broad river, the camp of
General Sumpter, and at the head of his corps charged the picket.
The attack was repelled; he himself was wounded and taken prisoner.
A memorandum was found upon him of houses burned by his command.
He had hanged
Adam Cusack, a Carolinian, who had neither given his parole nor accepted protection nor served in the patriot army; yet his captors would not harm a man who was their prisoner.
The position of the
British in the upper country became precarious.
Sumpter passed the
Broad river, formed a junction with
Clark and
Brennan, and threatened Ninety-Six.
Tarleton was therefore suddenly recalled from the pursuit of
Marion, and ordered to take the nearest path against
Sumpter.
One regiment was sent forward to join him on his march; another followed for his support.
Apprised of
Tarleton's approach,
Sumpter posted himself strongly on the plantation of Blackstock.
At five in the afternoon of the twentieth of November,
Tarleton drew
near in advance of his light infantry; and with two hundred and fifty mounted men he made a precipitate attack on
Sumpter's superior force.
The hill-side in front of the
Americans was steep; their rear was protected by the rapid river Tyger; their left was covered by a large barn of logs, between which the riflemen could fire with security.
The sixty-third British regiment having lost its commanding officer, two lieutenants, and one-third of its privates,
Tarleton retreated, leaving his wounded to the mercy of the victor.
The loss of
Sumpter was very small; but being himself disabled by a severe wound, he
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crossed the
Tyger, taking his wounded men with
him.
By the lavish distribution of presents, the
Indian agents obtained promises from the chiefs of twentyfive hundred Cherokees, and a numerous body of Creeks to lay waste the settlements on the
Watauga,
Holstein, Kentucky, and Nolachuckie, and even to extend their ravages to the
Cumberland and
Green rivers; so that the attention of the mountaineers might be diverted to their own immediate concerns.
Moreover, Cornwallis gave orders to the reenforce-ment of three thousand sent by
Clinton into the
Chesapeake to embark for
Cape Fear river.
So ended the first attempt of Cornwallis to penetrate to
Virginia.
He was driven back by the spontaneous risings of the southern and south-western people; and the unwholesome exhalations of autumn swept men from every garrison in the low country faster than
Great Britain could replace them.