University of Virginia Library

21. CHAPTER XXI.

The American general at last began to exhibit some
consciousness of the near neighbourhood of foes; and
that day, the 15th August, after general orders, he prepared
the following in addition—Colonel Williams, acting
adjutant-general, Colonel Walton, and one other
member of his family being present:—

“1. The sick, the extra artillery stores, the heavy
baggage, and such quarter-master's stores as are not
immediately wanted, to march this evening, under a
strong guard, to Waxsaw. To this order the general
requests the brigadier-generals to see that those under
their command pay the most exact and scrupulous
obedience.

“2. Lieutenant-colonel Edmonds, with the remaining
guns of the park, will take post and march with
the Virginia brigade under General Stevens. He will
direct, as any deficiency may happen in the artillery
affixed to the other brigade, to supply it immediately.
His military staff, and a proportion of his officers, with
forty of his men, are to attend him and await his
orders.

“3. The troops will be ready to march precisely at
ten o'clock, in the following order, viz:—

“Colonel Armand's advance—cavalry commanded by
Colonel Armand; Colonel Porterfield's light infantry
upon the right flank of Colonel Armand, in Indian file,
two hundred yards from the road; Major Armstrong's
light infantry in the same order as Colonel Porterfield's,
upon the left flank of the legion.

“Advance-guard of foot; composed of the advance-pickets,

first brigade of Maryland, second brigade of
Maryland, division of North Carolina, division of Virginia;
rear-guard—volunteer cavalry upon the flank of
the baggage, equally divided.

“In this order the troops will proceed on their march
this night.

“4. In case of an attack by the enemy's cavalry in
front, the light infantry upon each flank will instantly
move up, and give, and continue, the most galling fire
upon the enemy's horse. This will enable Colonel
Armand, not only to support the shock of the enemy's
charge, but finally to rout him. The colonel will
therefore consider the order to stand the attack of the
enemy's cavalry, be their number what it may, as
positive.

“5. General Stevens will immediately order one
captain, two lieutenants, one ensign, three sergeants,
one drum, and sixty rank and file, to join Colonel Porterfield's
infantry. These are to be taken from the most
experienced woodsmen, and men every way fittest for
the service.

“6. General Caswell will likewise complete Major
Armstrong's light infantry to their original number.
These must be marched immediately to the advanced
post of the army.

“The troops will observe the profoundest silence
upon the march, and any soldier who offers to fire without
the command of his officer, must instantly be put
to death.

“When the ground will admit of it, and the near
approach of the enemy renders it necessary, the army
will, when ordered, march in columns.

“The artillery at the head of their respective brigades,
and the baggage in the rear. The guard of the
heavy baggage will be composed of the remaining officers
and soldiers of the artillery, one captain, two
subalterns, four sergeants, one drum, and sixty rank
and file, &c.

“The tents of the whole army are to be struck at
tattoo.”

Such were the general orders for the march. Colonel
Williams the adjutant-general, Colonel Walton,
and Major Thomas Pinckney, were in conversation at
the entrance of the general's marquee, when, with a
smiling and good-natured countenance, he brought
the paper forth, and called for the adjutant-general's attention.

“Colonel Williams, you will be punctual in the
transmission of these orders to the several commands,
so that there be no delay. Look also at this estimate,
which has been made this morning of the entire force,
rank and file, of the army. It would seem to be correct.”

Williams took the paper, and glanced rapidly over
the estimate, which startled him by its gross exaggerations.

“Correct, sir!” he exclaimed, with unfeigned astonishment;
“impossible! Seven thousand men!—
there are not five thousand fit for duty.”

“You will see, and report on this,” said the general,
coolly, and at once turned away to the tent, in which,
a moment after, he was lost from sight.

“Pinckney,” said Williams, “come and assist me
in this estimate. Colonel Walton will keep in attendance—you
will not be wanted.”

The gallant young soldier, then a tall, fresh, and
vigorous youth, noble, and accomplished as were few
native Americans at that period, immediately complied
with the request, and the two moved away upon the
contemplated mission. Availing himself of his orders,
which were to bid all the general officers to a council
in Rugely's barn, Williams called also upon the officers
commanding corps for a field return. This he required
to be as exact as possible; and as neither himself nor
Pinckney was required to attend the deliberations,
they devoted themselves to a careful abstract of the
true force of the army for the general's better information.
This was presented to him as soon as the
council had broken up, and just as the general was
coming out of the door, where Williams and his aids

awaited him. He took the paper, and with clouding
brows examined its contents.

“How! what is this? what is this figure, Colonel
Williams?” he inquired, dashing his forefinger hurriedly
upon the paper.

“A three, sir,” was the reply.

“A three! And you mean to say that there are only
three thousand and fifty-two, rank and file, fit for duty?”

“I do, your excellency—scarce a man more.”

“Impossible! There were no less than thirteen general
officers in council, and our estimate gave not a
man less than seven thousand, rank and file.”

“Your estimate of the general officers is correct
enough, sir,” said Williams, firmly, “but mine of the
men is not less so. The disparity between officers
and men, in our battles,” continued the speaker, innocently
enough, “has always been rather remarkable.”

A quick motion of Gates's head, a sudden shooting
glance of his eye, intimated his own perception of the
sarcasm, and apprised Williams, for the first time, of
the equivocal character of his remark. His cheeks
grew to scarlet, as he perceived its force, and his confusion
would have been evident to his superior, but
that the general relieved him by turning away, with
the paper crumpled up in his hands, simply remarking,
as he left them—

“Three thousand—that is certainly below the estimate
of the morning; but they are enough—enough for
our purpose.”

Williams longed to ask him what that purpose was,
but prudence restrained him. The only farther remark
of Gates on the subject was uttered as he was retiring—

“You have delivered the orders, sir?—see them
obeyed. There was no dissent from them in council.”

True it is that there had been no dissent from them
in council; but they were scarcely submitted for examination.
There had been no consultation, and their
promulgation out of council, at once provoked the most
unrestrained animadversion. The officers generally
insisted that all opinion or discussion had been silenced

by the very positive terms in which the orders
had been expressed; and, indeed, there could have been
little doubt, from all the context, that General Gates
did not conceive it necessary that any reference should
be made to the opinions of those around him. The
council was the pure creature of a certain sense of
military propriety, and was yielded by Gates rather to
general notions of what was due to courtesy, than what
was necessary to the great cause and deep interests in
which he was engaged. The elder officers said little
when the orders were conveyed to them. The old
Baron De Kalb, presuming on his age and services, however,
and the usual respect with which Gates had treated
him hitherto, sought an interview with him, which was
not denied. He suggested to him the diminished force
of the army, so infinitely inferior, as it was found to be,
to the estimate which had been made of it in the morning.
This he held a sufficient reason for changing the
present resolution for one less hazardous. There was
another, and more forcible reason yet.

“Two-thirds of our army, your excellency is aware,
are militia—men who have never yet seen service, and
have scarce been exercised in arms together.”

“True, baron, but that is an argument against using
them at any period. They must begin sometime or
other.”

“Yes, your excellency; but our first experiments
with them should be easy ones. By these orders, we
are not only to march them, but to require them to form
column, and to manœuvre, by night, in the face of an
enemy, and probably under his fire. This is the work
of veterans only.”

“The danger seems to increase in magnitude, baron;
does it not?”

The old soldier drew himself up in dignity—his
manly person, no longer bowed or bent, his fine blue
eye flashing, and his cheek reddening as he spoke:
he replied—

“I know not what your excellency's remark may
mean; but in regard to the greatness or the littleness

of the danger, I who have been forty years a trusted
soldier of the King of France, should care but little to
encounter it. Were the question one affecting my
life only, it were easily answered: I came to fight the
battles of your country, sir, and am prepared, at all
hours, to die in them.”

The rebuke had its effect upon the commander,
though he did not acknowledge it. His self-esteem
was too great for that. Nor did he allow the suggestions
of the baron to have any weight upon his previous
determinations. With a commonplace compliment,
the conference was closed, and De Kalb went back to
his command, doubtful, pained, and justly offended. In
camp, the dissatisfaction had rather subsided, with the
single exception, among the officers, of Colonel Armand.
He took exception to the positive orders concerning
himself, as implying a doubt of his courage; at the
same time he objected to the placing of his cavalry in
front of a line of battle—certainly a very injudicious
order, particularly as the legion of Armand was most
heterogeneous in its formation, and such a disposition
of cavalry had never been made before. He complained
that Gates had placed him there from resentment,
on account of a previous dispute between them
touching the use of horses.

“I do not say,” said he, in broken English, “that
General Gates intends to sacrifice us; but I do say,
that if such were his intentions, these are just the steps
which he should take for it.”

Still, however, as it was not known that the enemy
was positively in force before them, all the parties grew
more satisfied, after a while, to proceed; and the army
moved on accordingly at the appointed hour.

The two armies met at midnight. They first felt
each other through the mutual salutation of small-arms,
between their several advance-guards. The cavalry of
Armand's legion were the first to reel in the unexpected
contest. They recoiled, and in their retreat,
flying confusedly, threw the whole corps into disorder.
This, with a similar recoil, fell back upon the front

column of infantry, disordered the first Maryland brigade,
and occasioned a momentary consternation throughout
the entire line of advance. But Colonel Porterfield
advanced from the wing agreeable to first orders, threw
in a prompt fire upon the British van, and gallantly
cheering as they advanced, restored the general confidence.
The British, seemingly no less astounded
than the Americans, fell back after the first shock, and
both parties seemed to acquiesce in a suspension of all
further hostilities for the night. Prisoners were taken
on both sides, in this rencontre, and the intelligence
gained by those brought into the American camp, was
productive of a degree of astonishment in General
Gates's mind, which found its way to his countenance.
He called a council of war instantly. When the adjutant-general
communicated the call to De Kalb, the
old veteran's opinion may be gathered from the response
which he made to that officer—

“Has the general given you orders to retreat the
army, Colonel Williams?”

“He has not,” was the answer.

“I will be with you in a moment, then, but will first
burn my papers;” a duty which he did in a short
time after, with scrupulous promptitude.

Assembled in the rear of the army, General Gates
communicated the intelligence obtained from the prisoners
just taken; then, for the first time, proposed a
question, implying some little hesitation on the subject
of future operations.

“What now is to be done, gentlemen?”

For a few moments all were silent, until General
Stevens of the Virginians, after looking round for
some other to speak, advanced in front of the commander,
and put his own answer in the form of a new
inquiry.

“Is it not too late, now, gentlemen, to do any thing
but fight?”

Another pause ensued, which, as it seemed to give
assent to the last words of Stevens, General Gates
himself interrupted—

“Then we must fight: gentlemen, be pleased to resume
your posts.”

They moved to their stations with the promptness
of the soldier, but with the thoughts and feelings of
men, who could not approve of what had been done,
and who had nothing consoling in the prospect before
them. Gates moved hurriedly for several moments up
and down the little tent which had been raised for
him within the hour. His manner was subdued, but
cool. Once or twice he looked forth from its cover with
an air of anxiety, then turning to Williams, and the
aids in attendance, he remarked—

“This is a quiet night, gentlemen, but it promises to
be a tedious one. What is the time, Colonel Walton?”

“A little after one, sir,” was the reply.

“You may leave me for an hour, gentlemen—only
an hour; we must prepare for daylight.”

Walton and Major Pinckney, together, strolled away,
not requiring repose. The thought of Colonel Walton
was with his child—the one—the one only—who could
fill his heart—who could inspire painful anxiety, at that
moment, in his mind. How fervent were his prayers
in that hour for her safety, whatever fate, in the coming
events of the daylight, might award to him!