King's Mountain (27 page)

“We have faced this sort of decision already,” I told Winston. “On our way here, we slaughtered some of the cattle we had brought with us, and we sent some of the remaining beasts back home. Much as we needed the meat they would have provided, we could not confine ourselves to the leisurely pace they required, so we had to sacrifice them. It's the same now. We ought to choose the fittest soldiers and the freshest horses, and leave the rest in camp.”

“This plan seems sensible to me,” said Campbell, looking around at those present. “Does anyone object?”

No one did.

“Very well, then. We shall carry out the plan directly. Each commander should select the men from his own forces,” Campbell said. “If we proceed with seven hundred or so of our most able men, we can increase our speed without sacrificing much of our strength.”

“When shall we do this?” asked McDowell.

Campbell sighed, for we were all as tired and hungry as our men, but I knew the answer already. “Why, we must do it now, Major,” he said. “This very night. Much as we would all like to rest and sleep before tomorrow's travels, we must do this now. We can leave some of our supplies here at Green River, with the men left behind to guard it. They can rest, and make themselves ready for the journey home—or perhaps for another run at Ferguson, if we should fail in our first attempt.”

Ben Cleveland stood up, stifling a yawn. “Well, it's going to be a damned long night,” he said.

*   *   *

We had come many miles that day in the heat of the Carolina plains, and we were too tired to linger for long after we reached our decision. I made my way back to my own camp, wanting nothing so much as to bed down near the fire with the rest of the Seviers, waiting for sunup, but instead I sent for Major Tipton, my brother Valentine, and the other officers, and told them the commanders' decision.

“Assemble the men,” I said. “The commanders have agreed to select only the fittest men and the freshest horses to go forward from here. We need to inspect them all to see who would best be left here in camp. If any of them are sick or if any volunteer to stay behind, or have foot injuries or the like, then eliminate them first. And assign another officer to inspect the horse as well. No excess supplies—only what the men can carry, and rations only for a day or two. From here on out, we will be traveling light—and fast.”

“I'll make a start on it now,” said Tipton, hurrying away.

“How many men do you aim to take with you?” asked my brother Robert.

I considered it. “Perhaps a hundred, if we have that many soldiers fit enough to go forward.”

“You're taking James, then?”

I hesitated, for in the rush of all the other concerns, the thought of leaving him behind had not occurred to me. “He is a bit young, I know, but he might be safer where we can keep an eye on him. He's been all right thus far, hasn't he? Not given you or Valentine any trouble?”

Robert smiled. “Well, not as much as Joseph would have you believe. I just wondered whether he might be safer left in camp.”

I sighed. “If I could be sure of that, Bob, I reckon I could leave him with a glad heart, but it seems to me that he might be in just as much peril if we left him here, especially with all the commanders gone. Ferguson isn't the only enemy in these parts, you know. Some local band of Tories could swoop in after we've gone, and slaughter all those left behind.”

“I don't believe they will, though, Jack. There'll still be an awful lot of soldiers left to put up a fight.”

“I suppose you're right, but he's such a little rooster that I reckon we'd never hear the end of it if we left him behind. If his older brother is allowed to go, he'll insist on coming, too.”

“Reckon he will.” Robert laughed. “We'll have to take turns looking out for him then. We mustn't let his first adventure be his last.”

“Look after the family, Bob, because I have my hands full with the rest of the militia from here on out. And get some sleep tonight if you can.”

The other officers had hurried away to assemble the militia, and to get out the supplies so that we could decide what we could take with us. I spent a long chilly night making the final decisions about who should go, and what supplies we should take with us. Finally, with only a couple of hours left before first light, I finished my appointed tasks, and, exhausted into a stupor, I crawled under my blanket to get whatever rest I could in the little time before it was time to move out. When I closed my eyes, though, I could still see lines of men and horses shuffling past me, and I drifted off to sleep counting them as they went by.

*   *   *

Despite the chill of the night air and the rumbling of my stomach, I fell into a sound sleep, but I did not linger long in that blessed oblivion, for an hour or so before daybreak one of the sentries shook me awake. Keeping his voice low, so as not to alarm the rest of the men, he said, “Colonel Sevier, you're needed at the camp of Colonel Campbell to meet with the other commanders.”

I sat up at once, wide awake and cold with dread. “What has happened?” I whispered, straining to listen for sounds that something was amiss. “Are we under attack?”

“No, sir. Not yet, leastways. But the sentries have detained a rider. They're questioning him at Colonel Campbell's headquarters. Follow me, sir.”

I woke Robert to let him know where I was going because I thought someone in our camp besides the sentries ought to be awake in case anything was wrong, and I didn't want the boys to worry if they woke to find me gone. Then with my blanket still about my shoulders, I hurried after the sentry, knowing that further questions would be useless, for he had probably told me all he knew.

They had built up the fire outside Campbell's tent, so that it was bright enough to illuminate the faces of the men gathered around it, and two stout logs were set on either side of the blaze, so that everyone could be seated while we conferred. The expressions of those already there ranged from bewilderment to anger, and all of them were looking in the direction of the one unfamiliar face. The stranger's expression was clear enough: he was sputtering with rage.

I could see that a blindfold was hanging loose about his neck, and, though his hands were not tied, a guard stood a few feet away from him, holding his rifle in the crook of his arm, and never taking his eyes off the prisoner.

“I am not a Tory spy!” the man was saying, probably not for the first time that night.

Ben Cleveland leaned in and fixed him with a menacing stare. “Why should we believe that? I hang Tories, you know.”

“Well, you won't hang me. When I was a boy, an old gypsy woman told me that my death would come by drowning, so I've nothing to fear from you—or Ferguson, for that matter. Now stop blustering, and listen to what I am telling you.”

“He says he is Colonel Edward Lacey of the South Carolina militia,” said Campbell, for the benefit of those of us who had missed the conversation that transpired when the sentries first brought their prisoner to headquarters. “One of the officers of Colonel Sumter.”

Cleveland scowled. “What does he mean sneaking up to camp in the dead of night then, all by himself?”

“I had a guide,” Lacey said, nodding toward another man under guard. “I nearly shot him, too, for more than once I thought he had deliberately led me astray on the journey here. We had some difficulty in finding you, and that delayed us. But I rode thirty miles to find you—to warn you, blast it! And this is the thanks I get.”

“Warn us of what?” said Campbell. “Are the Tories attacking?”

“Well, I haven't seen any. I come from a group of South Carolina militias who came out to join forces with you.”

“Where are they, then?”

“Where I left them. Maybe twenty miles south. What I came to tell you is that you have been deceived, and that you are embarking on a wild goose chase in search of Ferguson, for he isn't where you think he is!”

No one spoke for a moment, and I think we all wondered whether this fellow was a spy who had come to mislead us.

“We've already been told of the enemy's whereabouts,” said Campbell. “General James Williams, also of the South Carolina militia, and with papers from the governor to prove it, sought us out at a godly hour yesterday morning. He informed us that Ferguson is camped in South Carolina at Ninety Six. We head there at first light.”

The prisoner smiled. “Oh, yes. His precious Ninety Six. Was it only Major Ferguson he claimed to be there? Not Julius Caesar or Robert the Bruce?”

“What do you mean?” said Shelby.

The prisoner shook himself free of the guard, and sat down on the log next to Colonel Campbell. “Let me tell you about James Williams, gentlemen. The man is an utter scoundrel.”

Ben Cleveland burst out, “What? Are you saying he is a Tory, then?”

“Oh, no. I'm not sure Williams takes any side except his own. But before I tell you exactly why he is sending you to Ninety Six, I should tell you a bit about his past. You have time before sunup to hear that tale.”

“Go ahead then,” said Campbell wearily. We all knew that it was too late now to try to get back to sleep, and one way or another we needed to know what this man had to tell us. If he was a spy attempting to deceive us, we would hang him at daybreak before we continued the march.

“Earlier this summer, I was under the command of Colonel Thomas Sumter, who was gathering his forces to combat Ferguson's invasion of the area. James Williams showed up at his camp, with no troops of his own, saying that he wished to do his part to resist the Loyalists, and so Sumter gave him the post of
commissionary,
which put him in charge of two dozen men and four wagons of supplies. Williams served ably enough in this capacity, but in mid-August, after the Battle of Hanging Rock, Sumter discovered that Williams had decamped without a word to anyone. A few men had left with him, and they had taken some of our militia's horses, supplies, and provisions. Stolen them, to be blunt.”

“Why didn't you hang him?” asked Cleveland.

“What did he do with the supplies?” I put in before Lacey could answer, for I had heard nothing of this incident.

“I did not wait to find out. The instant we realized what had happened, with Colonel Sumter's permission, I went after Williams myself,” said Lacey. “I took a few men with me, and we trailed them to the banks of the Catawba, but Williams's forces outnumbered mine, so I decided against trying to take the militia's property back by force. Instead, I dismounted and asked Williams to take a walk with me, out of sight of his encampment. I was calm and civil, leading him to expect just a friendly discussion with a fellow officer. I steered him away from the others, out of earshot, talking of inconsequential matters. Then when I got the scoundrel off in the woods by himself, I drew my pistol and held it against his heart, and I told him that if he cried out or made a single move to summon help, I would shoot him where he stood. With that I proceeded to tell the thieving blackguard what I thought of his base and dishonorable conduct, and I demanded that he return the property he had stolen, and rejoin Sumter's forces at once.”

“What did he say to that?” asked Campbell.

“Oh, he said he had hoped to use the supplies to defend his own territory, and he tried to pass it off as a misunderstanding. He said at once that he would return the stolen supplies, and that he would go back to Colonel Sumter with as many men as he could persuade to accompany him. But then he was looking down the barrel of my weapon, so what else could he say? I did not trust the man an inch, so I made him swear an oath to that effect, and then I released him.”

“Did he keep his word and go back?” asked Campbell.

“No.”

“James Williams joined us at Smith's Ford,” said Joseph McDowell. “My brother's command. Williams said that he was anxious to return to Ninety Six, for he lives there, and that area has been much beleaguered by marauding Tories. He seemed to feel that he was doing a greater service to his neighbors by returning to fight for them than he would by staying with Sumter. My brother was heading to that destination also, but Colonel Sumter was not. Williams may have appropriated supplies from Sumter, but that public property and the troops who went with James Williams still contributed to our cause. There can be no doubt of that. They were put to the use for which they were intended—to combat the Loyalists.”

Lacey scowled, and looked as if he were ready to make a biting rejoinder, but then Isaac Shelby said, “James Williams and I fought together at Musgrove Mill. He acquitted himself well enough then. It was he who took the prisoners on to headquarters in Hillsborough.”

“Yes, and he inveigled Governor Rutledge into making him a general on the strength of it, didn't he? I don't doubt he took credit for the entire battle. And do you know what he did next? He came sauntering into our camp, waving his new commission and informing Sumter that he now outranked him, and on the strength of that he would be taking command. Sumter and his officers refused to allow this, and Sumter rode off to consult with the governor himself about the matter.”

“Leaving Williams in charge?” asked Joseph McDowell.

“Oh, no. He'd have found himself in an empty camp if he had tried that. Instead, he hunted up the governor of North Carolina, waved his magic commission under his nose, and got permission to raise one hundred mounted troops of his own from North Carolina. He was heading back to his home territory of Ninety Six when he encountered us. Colonel Hill and I are in charge, Sumter being still away conferring with Governor Rutledge. The governor promoted Thomas Sumter to brigadier general, but we didn't know it then. Williams, who had the papers at hand to prove his exalted rank, at once informed us that he was taking command on the strength of his being a general. We threw him out on his ear, and finally he agreed to join forces with us, but in command only of his own troops, not of the whole militia. We thought we had found a way to manage him, but then a courier arrived with the news that you Backwater Men were massing near McDowell's plantation, planning to hunt down Ferguson. That must have set him thinking.”