The Master of Appleby: A Novel Tale Concerning Itself in Part with the Great Struggle in the Two Carolinas; but Chiefly with the Adventures Therein of Two Gentlemen Who Loved One and the Same LadyLynde, Francis
History
The Master of Appleby: A Novel Tale Concerning Itself in Part with the Great Struggle in the Two Carolinas; but Chiefly with the Adventures Therein of Two Gentlemen Who Loved One and the Same Lady
Lynde, Francis
Historical fiction; Love stories; North Carolina -- Fiction; South Carolina -- Fiction; Triangles (Interpersonal relations) -- Fiction
From the camp talk we, Tybee and I, gleaned some better information of
the situation. A fortnight earlier Major Ferguson had captured two of
the over-mountain men of Clark's party and had sent them to the
settlement on the Watauga with a challenge in due form--or rather with
the threat to come and lay the over-mountain region waste in default of
an instant return of the pioneers to their allegiance to the king.
This challenge, so our scouts told us, had been immediately accepted.
Sevier and Shelby had embodied some two hundred men each from the
Watauga and the Holston settlements, and Colonel William Campbell, the
stout old Presbyterian Indian fighter, had joined them with as many more
Virginians.
Crossing the mountain these three troops had fallen in with other
scattered parties of the border patriots under Benjamin Cleaveland,
Major Chronicle and Colonel Williams, of South Carolina, until now, as
the scouts reported, the challenged outnumbered the challengers.
Learning this, Ferguson, who was as prudent as he was brave, thought it
best to make his stand at some point nearer the main body of the army;
and so the withdrawal from Gilbert Town had fallen into a retreat and a
pursuit.
From what Captain de Peyster has since told me, there would seem to be
little doubt that the major meant to fight when he had manoeuvered
himself into a favorable position; this in spite of Lord Cornwallis's
commands to the contrary. In his despatches he was continually urging
the need for a bold push in his quarter, and asking for Tarleton and a
sufficient number of the legion to enable him to cope with a mounted
enemy. But be this as it may, the garbled letter I had brought him
turned whatever scale there was to turn. He had now with him some eleven
hundred regulars and Tories, the latter decently well drilled; he had
every reason to expect the needed help from Cornwallis; and, on the
night of my arrival, he had word that another Tory force under Major
Gibbs would join him in a day or two, at farthest.
For his battle-ground Major Ferguson chose the top of a forest-covered
hill, the last and lowest elevation in the spur named that day King's
Mountain.
In some respects the position was all that could be desired. There was
room on the flat hilltop for an orderly disposition of the fighting
force; and the slopes in front and rear were steep enough to give an
attacking enemy a sharp climb. Moreover, there was a plentiful
outcropping of stone on the summit, scantiest on the broad or outer end
of the hill, and this was so disposed as to form a natural breastwork
for the defenders.
But there were disadvantages also, the chief of these being the heavy
wooding of the slopes to screen the advance of the assaulting party; and
while the major was busy making his dispositions for the fight, I was on
tenter-hooks for fear he would have the trees felled to belt the
breastwork with a clear space.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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