It was an erroneous idea of the South
Carolina historian, Ramsay, that Cleveland's men, who had been compelled to
make something of a circuit to reach their appointed position in the
arrangement for the onslaught, were the first to commence the action, and the
first to receive a bayonet charge from the enemy. The official report, to which
Cleveland gave the sanction of his signature, states that Shelby and Campbell's
regiments began the attack. Such was the nature of the ground, and the thick,
intervening foliage of the trees, that the Whigs were not discovered till
within a quarter of a mile of Ferguson; when the enemy's drums beat to arms,
and the shrill whistle of their commander was distinctly heard, notifying his
followers to repair to their places in the ranks, and be ready for hot work,
for they well knew that no child's play was in reserve for them.
A select party of Shelby's men undertook
to surprise a picket of the enemy, of whose position they had previous
knowledge, and accomplished their purpose without firing a gun or giving the
least alarm. This exploit seems to have occurred some distance from the
mountain, and was hailed by the army as a good omen. Orders had been given to the right and left
wings, that when the center columns were ready for the attack, they were to
give the signal by raising a regular frontier war-whoop, after the Indian style,
and rush forward, doing the enemy all the injury possible; and the others
hearing the battle-shout and the reports of the rifles, were to follow suit.
The first firing was heard on the north side of the mountain — evidently made
by the enemy upon Shelby's column, before they were in position to engage in
the action. It was galling in its
effect, and not a little annoying to the mountaineers, some of whom, in their
impatience, complained that it would never do to be shot down without returning
the fire. Shelby coolly replied, "press
on to your places, and then your fire will not be lost."
But before Shelby's men could gain their
position, Colonel Campbell had thrown off his coat, and while leading his men
to the attack, he exclaimed at the top of his voice, — "Here they are, my
brave boys; shout like h —l, and fight like devils!'' The woods immediately resounded with the
shouts of the line, in which they were heartily joined, first by Shelby's
corps, and then instantly caught up by the others along the two wings. When Captain De Peyster heard these almost
deafening yells — the same in kind he too well remembered hearing from Shelby's
men at Musgrove's Mill,—he remarked to Ferguson: "These things are ominous
— these are the d—d yelling boys!" And
when these terrific shouts saluted Ferguson's ears, he expressed fears for the
result.
About the time the Virginians advanced
to the conflict. Major Micajah Lewis, with his brother, Captain Joel Lewis,
both of the Wilkes and Surry troops, with Captain Andrew Colvill, of the
Virginia regiment, had been designated by Colonel Campbell to make a dash on
horseback upon the British main guard, half way up the spur of the mountain;
and having swept them out of the way, to fall back, dismount, and join the
others in the general advance. Here the
first heavy firing took place between the contending parties, the guard
commencing it. The mountaineers raised
the Indian war-whoop and rushed upon the foe, who soon retreated, leaving some
of their men to crimson the earth with their blood.
One of the mountaineers came within
rifle shot of a British sentinel before the latter perceived him; on
discovering the American, he discharged his musket, and ran with all his speed
towards the camp on the hill. This adventurous Whig, who had pressed forward
considerably in advance of his fellows, quickly dismounted, leveled his rifle,
firing at the retreating Briton, the ball striking him in the back of the head,
when he fell and expired. Among the
slain of the Virginians was Lieutenant Robert Edmondson, and John Beatty, the
ensign of Colvill's company, while Lieutenant Samuel Newell, also of Colvill's corps,
was wounded. Retiring down the hill, Newell passed Colonel Campbell and Major
Edmondson hurrying on the regiment into action.
But Newell was too good a soldier to
give up at the very commencement of the fight; and returning some distance, he came
across a horse, mounting which he rode back to the lines to perform his share
in the conflict.
What terse, patriotic utterances were
made by the several Whig leaders to their heroic followers, have been mainly
lost to history. Such words had their intended effect at the time: but all were
too intent on the exciting scenes before them, to treasure up in their memories
these outbursts of patriotism. Cleveland and his men, while passing around to
the left of the mountain, were somewhat retarded by a swampy piece of ground
then saturated with water; but, getting clear of this, Cleveland discovered an
advance picket of the enemy, when he made the following characteristic speech
to his troops—not, under the circumstances, in a very formal manner we may well
conclude, but, most likely, by piece-meal, as he rode along the lines:
"My brave fellows, we have beaten
the Tories, and we can beat them again.
They are all cowards: if they had the spirit of men, they would join
with their fellow-citizens in supporting the independence of their country. When you are engaged, you are not to wait for
the word of command from me. I will show
you, by my example, how to fight; I can undertake no more. Every man must consider himself an officer,
and act from his own judgment. Fire as
quick as you can, and stand your ground as long as you can. When you can do no better, get behind trees,
or retreat; but I beg you not to run quite off. If we are repulsed, let us make a point of
returning, and renewing the fight; perhaps we may have better luck in the
second attempt than the first. If any of
you are afraid, such shall have leave to retire, and they are requested immediately
to take themselves off." But a
single man, John Judd, intimated a preference to remain behind—" to hold
the horses," as he expressed it; while, to redeem the honor of the family,
his brother, Rowland Judd, went forward, and acted the part of a brave soldier
in the trying conflict. The distance
that Cleveland's men had to march, with the swampy nature of their route,
delayed them some ten minutes in reaching the place assigned them. But they nobly made amends for their delay by
their heroic conduct in the action. The
picket that they attacked soon gave way, and they were rapidly pursued up the
mountain.
Doctor Moore asserts, that it has always
been the tradition in the King's Mountain region, that inasmuch as Colonel
Lacey rode the express, and gave the patriots at Green river the true situation
of Ferguson, Colonel Campbell gave him the honor of commencing the battle—the
friends of Campbell, Shelby, Sevier, Winston, and Roebuck have for each also
claimed the same honor; that Lacey led on his men from the north-western and
most level side of the mountain, engaging the attention of the foe, while
Cleveland and the other leaders marched to their respective places of
assignment, completely encircling Ferguson's army. Judging from the official report, this
tradition has no substantial foundation; yet Lacey, no doubt, anticipated
Cleveland, and perhaps some of the other regimental and battalion commandants,
in engaging the attention of the enemy, and taking part in the conflict.
Where Campbell's men ascended the
mountain to commence the attack was rough, craggy, and rather abrupt—the most
difficult of ascent of any part of the ridge; but these resolute mountaineers
permitted no obstacles to prevent them from advancing upon the foe, creeping up
the acclivity, little by little, and from tree to tree, till they were nearly
at the top—the action commencing at long fire.
The Virginians were the first upon whom Ferguson ordered his Rangers,
with doubtless a part of his Loyalists, to make a fixed bayonet charge. Some of the Virginians obstinately stood their
ground till a few of them were thrust through the body; but being unable, with
rifles only, to withstand such a charge, they broke and fled down the
mountain—further, indeed, than was necessary.
In this rapid charge, Lieutenant Allaire, of Ferguson's corps, overtook
an officer of the mountaineers, fully six feet high; and the British Lieutenant
being mounted, dashed up beside his adversary, and killed him with a single
blow of his sword. But the British
chargers did not venture quite to the bottom of the hill, before they wheeled,
and quickly retired to the summit. Campbell's
men ran across the narrow intervening valley to the top of the next ridge. Colonel Campbell and Major Edmondson, about
half way between their men and the enemy, were loudly vociferating to their
Virginians to halt and rally; and Lieutenant Newell, now mounted, joined them
in this effort. The men were soon
formed, and again led up by their heroic commander to renew the contest. It was
during this attack that Lieutenant Robert Edmondson, the younger, of Captain
David Beattie's company—for there were two Lieutenants of the Virginians of
that name—was wounded in the arm. He
then sheltered himself behind a tree, with one of his soldiers, John Craig, who
bandaged up his limb. By this time Campbell's men were successfully rallied,
and were returning to the charge, when Edmondson exclaimed, "Let us at it
again!" Of such grit was Campbell's
Holston soldiers composed; and as long as there was any fighting to be done for
their country, and they could stand upon their feet, they never failed to share
largely in it.
Colonel Shelby has briefly stated his
knowledge of this heroic movement of Campbell and his men. "On the first
onset," says Shelby, "the Washington militia attempted rapidly to
ascend the mountain; but were met by the British regulars with fixed bayonets,
and forced to retreat. They were soon
rallied by their gallant commander, and some of his active officers, and by a
constant and well-directed fire of our rifles we drove them back in our turn,
and reached the summit of the mountain."
Or, as cited by Haywood, and understood to be also from a statement by
Shelby: "Campbell, with his division, ascended the hill, killing all that came
in his way, till coming near enough to the main body of the enemy, who were
posted upon the summit, he poured in upon them a most deadly fire. The enemy, with fixed bayonets, advanced upon
his troops, who gave way and went down the hill, where they rallied and formed,
and again advanced. The mountain was
covered with flame and smoke, and seemed to thunder.''
While Ferguson's Rangers were thus
employed in their dashing bayonet charge against Campbell's column, Shelby was
pressing the enemy on the opposite side and southwestern end of the mountain;
so that the Provincials found it necessary to turn their attention to this body
of the mountaineers. "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." But brave as he and his men were, they, too,
had to retreat before the charging column, yet slowly firing as they retired. When, at the bottom of the hill, Shelby wanted
to bring his men to order, he would cry out—"Now, boys, quickly re-load
your rifles, and let's advance upon them, and give them another h—l of a fire!”
Thus were Campbell's and Shelby's men
hotly engaged some ten minutes before the right and left wings reached their
points of destination, when, at length, they shared in completely encompassing
the enemy, and joined in the deadly fray. Ferguson soon found that he had not
so much the advantage in position as he had anticipated; for the summit of the
mountain was bare of timber, exposing his men to the assaults of the back-woods
riflemen, who, as they pressed up the ridge, availed themselves of the trees on
its sides, which afforded them protection, and which served to retard the
movements of the British charging parties. As the enemy were drawn up in close column on
the crest of the mountain, they presented a fair mark for the rifles of the
mountaineers, and they suffered severely by the exposure. The famous cavalry Colonel, Harry Lee, well
observed of Ferguson's chosen place for battle—it was "more assailable by
the rifle than defensible with the bayonet."
Among the keenest of the sharp-shooters
under Shelby was Josiah Culbertson, so favorably noticed elsewhere in this
work. He had been selected with others
to get possession of an elevated position, for which a Tory Captain and a party
under him stoutly contended; but Culbertson and his riflemen were too alert for
their antagonists, and pressing closely upon them, forced them to retire to
some large rocks, where Culbertson at length shot their leader in the head,
when the survivors fled, and soon after with their fellows were compelled to
surrender.
Captain Moses Shelby, a brother of the
Colonel, received two wounds in the action—the last through his thigh near his
body, disabling it, so that he could not stand without help. He was assisted down to a branch, some
distance from the foot of the mountain, and was left with his rifle for his
defence, should he need it. Seeing one
of the soldiers coming down too frequently to the branch under plea of thirst, Captain
Shelby admonished him if he repeated his visit he would shoot him; that it was
no time to shirk duty.
But a portion of the Tories had
concealed themselves behind a chain of rocks in that quarter, from which they
kept up a destructive fire on the Americans. As Campbell's and Shelby's men
came in contact at the southwestern end of the ridge, Shelby directed Ensign
Robert Campbell, of the Virginians, to move to the right, with a small party,
and endeavor to dislodge the enemy from their rocky ramparts. Ensign Campbell led his men, under fire of the
British and Tory lines, within forty steps of them; but discovering that the
Whigs had been driven down the hill, he gave orders to his party to post
themselves, as securely as possible, opposite to the rocks and near to the
enemy, while he himself went to the assistance of Campbell and his fellow
officers in bringing the regiment to order, and renewing the contest. These directions were punctually obeyed, and
the watching party kept up so galling a fire with their well-plied rifle shots,
as to compel Ferguson to order a stronger force to cover and strengthen his men
behind their rocky defence; but, towards the close of the action, they were
forced to retire, with their demoralized associates, to the north-eastern
portion of the mountain.
The battle now raging all around the mountain
was almost terrific. "When that
conflict began," exclaimed the late eloquent Bailie Peyton, of Tennessee,
"the mountain appeared volcanic; there flashed along its summit, and
around its base, and up its sides, one long sulphurous blaze." The shouts of the mountaineers, the peals of
hundreds of rifles and muskets, the loud commands and encouraging words of the
respective officers, with every now and then the shrill screech of Ferguson's
silver whistle high above the din and confusion of the battle, intermingled
with the groans of the wounded in every part of the line, combined to convey
the idea of another pandemonium.
Colonel Lacey and his gallant South
Carolinians, who had seen hard service under Sumter on many a well-fought
field, rushed forward to share in the contest. At the very first fire of the
enemy. Colonel Lacey's fine horse was shot from under him. With a single
exception these South Carolinians, mostly from York and Chester, proved
themselves worthy of the high reputation they had gained on other fields. That
exception was an amusing one—a man who, at heart, was as true a patriot as
could be found in the Carolinas; but who constitutionally could not stand the
smell of powder, and invariably ran at the very first fire. When about going into action to fight Ferguson
and his Tories, his friends, knowing his weakness, advised him to remain
behind. "No," said he,
indignantly, "I am determined to stand my ground to-day, live or die.'' True to his instinct, at the very first fire
he took to his heels, as usual. After the battle was over, when he returned,
his friends chided him for his conduct.
"From the first fire," said he, by way of apology, " I
knew nothing whatever till I was gone about a hundred and fifty yards; and when
I came to myself, recollecting my resolves, I tried to stop; but my confounded
legs would carry me off!" But fortunately his associates were made up of
better material, and rendered their country good service on this occasion.
No regiment had their courage and
endurance more severely tested than Campbell's. They were the first in the onset—the first to
be charged down the declivity by Ferguson's Rangers—and the first to rally and
return to the contest. Everything
depended upon successfully rallying the men when first driven down the
mountain. Had they have become
demoralized as did the troops at Gates' defeat near Camden, and as did some of
Greene's militia at Guilford, they would have brought disgrace and disaster
upon the Whig cause. When repulsed at
the point of the bayonet, the well-known voice of their heroic commander bade
them "halt!—return my brave fellows, and you will drive the enemy
immediately!" He was promptly
obeyed, for Campbell and his officers had the full confidence and control of
their mountaineers. They bravely faced
about, and drove the enemy, in turn, up the mountain. In these desperate attacks, many a
hand-to-hand fight occurred, and many an act of heroism transpired, the wonder
and admiration of all beholders; but there were so many such heroic incidents,
where all were heroes, that only the particulars of here and there one have
been handed down to us. Ensign Robert
Campbell, at the head of a charging party, with singular boldness and address,
killed Lieutenant McGinnis, a brave officer of Ferguson's Rangers.
Captain William Edmondson, also of
Campbell's regiment, remarked to John McCrosky, one of his men, that he was not
satisfied with his position, and dashed forward into the hottest part of the
battle, and there received the charge of DePeyster's Rangers, discharged his
gun, then clubbed it and knocked the rifle out of the grasp of one of the
Britons. Seizing him by the neck, he
made him his prisoner, and brought him to the foot of the hill. Returning again up the mountain, he bravely
fell fighting in front of his company, near his beloved Colonel. His faithful soldier, McCrosky, when the
contest was ended, went in search of his Captain, found him, and related the
great victory gained, when the dying man nodded his satisfaction of the result.
The stern Colonel Campbell was seen to
brush away a tear, when he saw his good friend and heroic Captain stretched
upon the ground under a tree, with one hand clutching his side, as if to
restrain his life blood from ebbing away until the battle was over. He heard the shout of victory as his commander
and friend grasped his other hand. He
was past speaking; but he kissed his Colonel's hand, smiled, loosed his feeble
hold on life, and the Christian patriot went to his reward.
Lieutenant Reece Bowen, who commanded
one of the companies of the Virginia regiment, was observed while marching
forward to attack the enemy, to make a hazardous and unnecessary exposure of
his person. Some friend kindly
remonstrated with him—" Why Bowen, do you not take a tree—why rashly
present yourself to the deliberate aim of the Provincial and Tory riflemen,
concealed behind every rock and bush before you?—death will inevitably follow,
if you persist." "Take to a
tree," he indignantly replied—"no!—never shall it be said, that I
sought safety by hiding my person, or dodging from a Briton or Tory who opposed
me in the field." Well had it been
for him and his country, had he been more prudent, and, as his superiors had
advised, taken shelter whenever it could be found, for he had scarcely concluded
his brave utterance, when a rifle ball struck him in the breast. He fell and
expired.
The "red-haired Campbell—the claymore
of the Argyle gleaming in his hand, and his blue eye glittering with a lurid
flame," wherever he was, dashing here and there along the line, was
himself a host. His clarion voice rang
out above the clash of resounding arms and the peals of successive riflery,
encouraging his heroic mountaineers to victory. And thus the battle raged with increased
fury—the mountain men constantly gaining more confidence, and steadily
lessening the number of their foes.
Nor were the other columns idle. Major Chronicle and Lieutenant Colonel
Hambright led their little band of South Fork boys up the north-east end of the
mountain, where the ascent was more abrupt than elsewhere, save where
Campbell's men made their attack. As
they reached the base of the ridge, with Chronicle some ten paces in advance of
his men, he raised his military hat, crying out— "Face to the hill!"
He had scarcely uttered his command, when a ball struck him, and he fell; and
William Rabb, within some six feet of Chronicle, was killed almost instantly
thereafter. The men steadily pressed on,
under the leadership of Lieutenant Colonel Hambright, Major Joseph Dickson, and
Captains Mattocks, Johnston, White, Espey and Martin—a formidable list of officers
for so small a body of men; but they all took their places in the line, and
fought with determined heroism. Before
they reached the crest of the mountain, the enemy charged bayonet—said to have
been led by DePeyster—first firing off their guns, by which Robert Henry
supposed that Captain Mattocks and John Boyd were killed, and William Gilmer, a
brother of the noted scout, and John Chittim wounded—the latter of Captain
Martin's company was shot in his side, making an orifice, through which,
according to tradition, a silk handkerchief could be drawn, and yet he recovered,
living to a good old age.
One gallant young fellow, Robert Henry,
then in his sixteenth year, had taken his position behind a log stretched
across a hollow; and was getting ready to give the enemy another shot, when the
bayonet chargers came dashing along. One
of the enemy was advancing rapidly on young Henry, who was in the act of
cocking his gun, when his antagonist's bayonet glanced along Henry's
gun-barrel, passing clear through one of his hands, and penetrating into his
thigh. Henry, in the melee, had shot the
Tory, and both fell to the ground—the young Whig hero completely transfixed. Henry was pretty well enveloped in
powder-smoke; but sad and helpless as was his condition, he could not help observing
that man of his South Fork friends were not more than a gun's length ahead of
the Tory bayonets, and the farthest could not have exceeded twenty feet, when
they fired, with deadly effect, upon their pursuers, and retired to the bottom
of the hill, quickly re-loading, and in turn chasing their enemies up the
mountain.
William Caldwell, one of Henry's companions,
seeing his situation, pulled the bayonet out of his thigh; but finding it yet
sticking fast to the young soldier's hand, gave the wounded limb a kick with
his boot, which loosened the bloody instrument from its hold. Henry suffered more in the operation of
extracting the bayonet, than when the Briton made the effective thrust, driving
it through his hand and into his thigh. Again
upon his feet, he picked up his gun with his uninjured hand, and found it
empty—how, he could not tell; but supposed, as he received the terrible bayonet
thrust, that he must, almost instinctively, have touched the trigger, and
discharged his rifle, and that the ball must have cut some main artery of his
antagonist, as he bled profusely.
Another incident of the battle: When
William Twitty, who behaved so gallantly in the defence of Graham's Fort the
preceding summer, and now serving among the South Fork or Lincoln boys,
discovered that his most intimate crony had been shot down by his side, he
believed that he knew from the powder-smoke, from behind which tree the fatal
ball had sped; and watching his opportunity to avenge the death of his friend,
he had not long to wait, for soon he observed a head poking itself out from its
shelter, when he quickly fired, and the Tory fell. After the battle, Twitty repaired to the tree
and found one of his neighbors, a well-known Loyalist, with his brains blown
out.
Abram Forney, a brave soldier of Captain
William Johnston's company, of the Lincoln men, used in after years to relate
this incident of the battle: When the contest had become warm and well-maintained
on both sides, a small party of Whigs, not relishing the abundance of lead
flying all around them, and occasionally cutting down some gallant comrade at
their side, concluded to take temporary shelter behind an old hollow chestnut
tree—a mere shell— which stood near, and from its walls to pour forth a
destructive fire upon the enemy. The
British, however, presently observed the quarter whence this galling fire
proceeded, and immediately returned their compliments in the shape of a few
well-aimed volleys at the old shell, completely perforating it with balls, and finally
shivering it in pieces.
When Cleveland's regiment hastened to
their appointed place of attack, under a heavy fire while on the way, their
brave commander exclaimed, pointing significantly to the mountain, "Yonder
is your enemy, and the enemy of mankind!" They were soon hotly engaged with the
Loyalists lining the brow of the eminence before them. From the Colonel down to the humblest private
they all heartily detested Tories, and fought them with a resolute
determination to subdue them at all hazards. They sought all natural places of
protection—trees, logs, rocks, and bushes; when Cleveland would, ever and anon,
vociferously urge onward and upward his troops—"a little nearer to them,
my brave men!" And the men of
Wilkes and Surry would then dart from their places of concealment, and make a
dash for more advanced positions. Occasionally
one of their number would fall, which only served to nerve on the survivors to
punish the Tories yet more effectually.
In one of these bold and dashing forays,
Lieutenant Samuel Johnson, of Captain Joel Lewis' company, was more adventurous
than prudent, and found himself and men in a most dangerous and exposed
position, which resulted in the loss of several of his soldiers, and receiving
himself a severe wound in the abdomen. Three
bullet holes were made in one skirt of his coat, and four in the other. After Lieutenant Johnson had fallen, and while
the contest was yet fiercely raging around him, he repeatedly threw up his
hands, shouting— "Huzza, boys!"
The salvation of his life was attributed to the scanty amount of food he
had taken during the three days preceding the battle, so difficult had it been
to obtain it. Of his fellow officers of
Cleveland's regiment who were also among the wounded, were Major Micajah Lewis,
Captain Joel Lewis, Captain Minor Smith, and Lieutenant James M. Lewis; the
three wounded Lewises were brothers, and a noble triumvirate they were. Daniel
Siske and Thomas Bicknell were among the killed of the Wilkes regiment, as the
manuscript records of that county show.
Many a mortal combat and hand-to-hand
rencontre, took place in this part of the line. Charles Gordon, apparently a
young officer, made a quick, bold movement into the midst of the enemy, seizing
a Tory officer by his cue, and commenced dragging him down the mountain, when
the fellow suddenly drew and discharged his pistol, breaking Gordon's left arm;
whereupon the latter, with his sword in hand, killed the officer outright. The whole affair was but the work of a moment,
and was regarded at the time as an intrepid act—a prodigy of valor. David Witherspoon, also of Cleveland's
regiment, in getting into close quarters, discovered one of the enemy prostrate
on the ground, loading and firing in rapid succession. Witherspoon drew his rifle on him and fired,
when the Red Coat, wounded, pitched the butt of his gun, in submission, towards
his antagonist, throwing up his hands imploring mercy; and when Witherspoon
reached him, he found his mouth full of balls, chewing them so as to make them
jagged, and render the wounds they might inflict more fatal.
Early in the engagement, Colonel
Cleveland's noble steed, "Roebuck," received two wounds, and he had
to dismount; yet, unwieldly as he was, he managed under the excitement
surrounding him, to keep fully up with his men, and, with rifle in hand,
gallantly fulfilling all the duties of the occasion; until he was at length
remounted, one of his men bringing him another horse. An incident occurred, near the close of the
contest, of an exciting character, and which very nearly cost the heroic
Colonel his life. Charles Bowen, of Captain William Edmondson's company, of
Campbell's regiment, heard vaguely that his brother, Lieutenant Reece Bowen,
had been killed, and was much distressed and exasperated in consequence. On the spur of the moment, and without due
consideration of the danger he incurred, he commenced a wild and hurried search
for his brother, hoping he might yet find him in a wounded condition only. He soon came across his own fallen Captain
Edmondson, shot in the head, and dying; and hurrying from one point to another,
he at length found himself within fifteen or twenty paces of the enemy, and
near to Colonel Cleveland, when he slipped behind a tree.
At this time, the enemy began to waver,
and show signs of surrendering. Bowen
promptly shot down the first man among them who hoisted a flag; and
immediately, as the custom was, turned his back to the tree, to re-load, when
Cleveland advanced on foot, suspecting from the wildness of his actions that he
was a Tory, and demanded the countersign, which Bowen, in his half-bewildered
state of mind, had, for the time being, forgotten. Cleveland, now confirmed in his conjectures,
instantly levelled his rifle at Bowen's breast, and attempted to shoot; but
fortunately it missed fire. Bowen
enraged, and perhaps hardly aware of his own act, jumped at and seized
Cleveland by the collar, snatched his tomahawk from his belt, and would in
another moment have buried it in the Colonel's brains, had not his arm been
arrested by a soldier, named Buchanan, who knew both parties. Bowen, now coming to himself, recollected the
countersign, and gave it—"Buford;" when Cleveland dropped his gun,
and clasped Bowen in his arms for joy, that each had so narrowly and
unwittingly been restrained from sacrificing the other. Well has a noble South
Carolina orator, a grandson of the illustrious Campbell, described him—"Cleveland,
so brave and yet so gentle!"
What will
happen next? Lord willing we’ll look at
the conclusion of this battle in my next post.
Christ, not man, is King!
Dale
1)
Lyman C. Draper, King’s Mountain and Its Heroes
(Cincinnati, OH: Peter G. Thomson, 1881), p. 246-63.
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