Part 34

We shall not follow him minutely in the various steps of his remarkable and successful enterprise. Often did the English advance columns press upon his rear; and so determined were the former--with such rapidity did they urge their pursuit--that the fugitives were able in some instances to rest but three hours out of the twenty-four, and to secure but one meal a-day. Their fatigue--their deprivations--their sufferings, penetrated the very heart of their sympathizing leader. His own anxiety was deep and wasting; yet he had a smile and a word of encouragement as he rode up, and hurried forward his exhausted columns.

At length they approached the Dan; that passed, they were safe; but this was the point of their greatest danger. Cornwallis was near at hand, and, like Pharaoh of old, pressing upon the children of Israel at the banks of the Red sea, was confident of their utter extermination--he had resolved to overwhelm and annihilate the American army on the banks of the Dan.

They reached those banks. In the rear, covering their embarkation, and, if possible, keeping in check the advance of the now infuriated enemy, were stationed Lee's legion and Washington's horsemen. It was a noble but perilous enterprise which they had undertaken. Had the forces of Cornwallis reached them, it is impossible to conjecture the issue. They had decided to succeed or perish.

But about noon, a messenger made his appearance upon a swift charger, making the joyful announcement that the army had safely made the passage. The guard now themselves urged their way to the ferry. Greene had not yet crossed. He had delayed through his anxiety for the safety of Lee and Washington, and their brave comrades. Who can describe his exultation as they came dashing on their proud steeds! That was a moment of intense joy; but that joy reached its climax when all were safely on the opposite shore, and the deep waters of the Dan were rolling between his army and their pursuers. The last boat that left, bore the intrepid Lee, and, as it grounded upon the opposite shore, the British van had reached the banks. This was the climax of their disappointment. At the end of a pursuit of two hundred and fifty miles, and during which they had destroyed all their baggage to accelerate their progress, it was their destiny to behold their prey exulting beyond their reach. Of this retreat, it has been well remarked, that "for the skill with which it was planned, the resolution and energy with which it was carried through, and the distance traveled, it stands alone in the annals of our country, and will bear a comparison with the most renowned feats of ancient or modern times. It covered Greene with more glory than a victory could have done, and stamped him at once the great commander."

Soon after the events now recited, the army of General Greene was augmented by the arrival of rëinforcements from Virginia, to five thousand five hundred men. Numerically, his force was larger than that of Cornwallis, but most of the troops were for the first time in a camp. Thus strengthened, Greene decided to hazard an engagement as early as circumstances allowed. With this object in view, after giving his troops some little opportunity to rest, he proceeded, and took post at Guilford.

Here, on the 15th of March, occurred the battle of _Guilford Court-house_, which on the part of Greene had been so wisely planned as must have issued in the utter discomfiture of Cornwallis, had all the Americans behaved with their accustomed bravery. But, most unfortunately, the terrible aspect of the British army, on its near approach, spread consternation and dismay among the Carolina militia; and, throwing down their guns, knapsacks, and canteens, they precipitately left the scene of action. These were followed by a portion of the Marylanders. It was impossible to rally them, or even to stay their progress. But the Virginians fought nobly, as did the second regiment of the Marylanders. Upon these and the continental troops, the entire force of the battle fell. For a time, even with the loss of the aid of those who so ignobly fled, victory seemed to decide for the Americans. But at length Cornwallis, at a great sacrifice of men, succeeded in getting the ascendancy, and no alternative was left to Greene but to order a retreat, while it could safely be made. The loss of the Americans was about four hundred, in killed and wounded; that of the British reached nearly six hundred. The British claimed the victory, but it was a victory which caused Fox to exclaim, when announced in the British House of Commons, "_Another such will ruin the British army._"

Following the battle above described, Cornwallis retreated to such a distance from Greene, as to present little inducement to the latter to follow, even had his force been able to cope with that under his lordship's command. It remained, therefore, for him to adopt some new plan, and to look in another direction for some field of usefulness to his country's cause. After much consideration, he decided to lead back his forces into South Carolina, and to fall on the line of the British posts between Ninety-Six and Charleston. It was a bold, original, and hazardous experiment; and the more so, as Cornwallis _might_ also return, and press him with his superior force. But the decision was made; and, taking up his line of march, in twelve days he reached Camden, where Lord Rawdon was strongly intrenched.

Taking a position on Hobkirk's hill, two miles north of Camden, Rawdon in a few days drew out his forces, and appeared in battle array against him. At the time the approach of the enemy was announced, the Americans were deeply engaged in cooking food, of which, for twenty-four hours, they had been destitute. For a moment, there was confusion; but, abandoning their meal, as did Greene his coffee, they soon stood in order of battle. The action opened with promise to the Americans. Greene himself, at the head of a single regiment, fought as a common soldier. His troops appeared firm, and even enthusiastic. Judge his surprise, when, at this critical moment, he perceived the regiment of Gunby, the one upon which, more perhaps than all others, he depended--the one which at Guilford had displayed such bravery--that regiment was giving way--was in the very act of retreating. Greene sped his charger among them--headed them--rallied them; but it was too late: the battle was lost. There was, indeed, more fighting, and every effort was made to recover from the shock caused by the retreat of Gunby's veteran regiment. But it was fruitless, and Greene retreated, in rather a creditable manner, considering the circumstances.

But the regiment, it is recorded--the cause of such deep mortification and utter failure--was after all not to blame. At least, the apology was made for them, that they mistook the order of Gunby, their leader, who had directed them only to halt, for an order to retreat. In the din of arms, his command was not understood, and the consequence was the disastrous result we have named.

The situation of Rawdon, notwithstanding his success, was critical; Greene's was still more critical. For the first time, it is said, the latter became vacillating and despondent. On the one hand, he was in danger from Rawdon; and on the other, it was reported that Cornwallis was marching rapidly against him. His army was small--destitute--discouraged. But it was not Greene's nature long to despond. He rose above the difficulties and perils of his position, and decided to occupy the place which God and his country had assigned him.

At this juncture, more certain intelligence was received that Cornwallis was on his march to Virginia. This left him at liberty to follow out his original plan.

Meanwhile, Rawdon broke up his encampment at Camden, and moved towards Fort Motte, against which Marion and Lee were pursuing a siege. Before Rawdon could reach it, it had surrendered to the Americans.

There remained now in the hands of the British but one fortress more of importance. This was Ninety-Six, situated one hundred and forty-seven miles north-west from Charleston, and garrisoned by five hundred and sixty men. To the reduction of this, Greene turned his attention. On the 22d of May, he appeared before it, and commenced a siege. While successfully pursuing his design, and daily advancing towards the consummation of his wishes, news arrived of the rapid approach of Rawdon. Indeed, he appeared even earlier than had been anticipated, and Greene had no alternative but to retreat. But, listening to his army, who were intent on a demonstration against the enemy, he consented thereto: but, although they made the assault with admirable firmness, and even enthusiastic zeal, they failed, and orders to retreat were given.

Rawdon followed Greene some fifteen or twenty miles on his retreat; when, returning to Ninety-Six, he ordered its evacuation, and himself took up his march for Charleston.

As the sickly season had now commenced, Greene withdrew his army to a cool and salubrious position on the high hills of Santee. Here, having remained until the 22d of August--his troops resting and recruiting, as much they needed both--he broke up his encampment, and began his march; and on the 7th of September, arrived within seven miles of Eutaw Springs, where the British lay encamped in an open field, under command of General Stewart.

On the following day, putting his army in motion, he proceeded towards the field, where occurred--

6. THE BATTLE OF EUTAW SPRINGS.

Greene took the British commander somewhat by surprise, but he was not slow to put his army in the order of battle. The Americans were the first to commence the contest, and that commencement was auspicious. The militia did themselves greater credit than on some former occasions. Both armies were soon engaged; both contended with a seriousness, a determination, a perseverance, commensurate with the prize at stake. It is not necessary to descend to particulars. Each cause was apparently more than once in the ascendant, but in the sequel neither could claim a decided victory. Yet, the advantage rested with Greene. The English had lost one-quarter of their number in killed, and another quarter were made prisoners. Moreover, he had driven them from the field; but he could not pursue them, on account of his prisoners and wounded, and the exhausted state of his army.

At the close of the contest, the belligerent armies united in burying their dead. What a contrast to the spectacle which had been exhibited a few hours before!

The battle of Eutaw Springs was the last general engagement in the South. Soon after, the British concentrated themselves at Charleston; and here they were for months hemmed in, and watched by the faithful and persevering Greene. But their situation, at length, became so distressing, that they determined to evacuate the city. This was carried into effect on the 13th of December, 1781. At three o'clock of the same day, Greene entered in triumph, to the exultation of its emancipated citizens, and with all the honors which a grateful people could shed upon him. "_God bless you! God bless you!_" was uttered by hundreds, as he passed along; nor was it a thoughtless, unmeaning prayer, but the warm and ardent desire of warm and ardent hearts. Greene merited it all: he loved his country with an affection which no circumstances could weaken, and served her with a fidelity which no temptation could interrupt. Truthfully, most truthfully, did Washington say of him: "Could he but promote the interests of his country in the character of a corporal, he would exchange, without a murmur, his epaulettes for the knot."

7. BATTLE OF YORKTOWN.

The campaign for the year 1781, as arranged between Washington and the Count de Rochambeau at Wethersfield, Connecticut, had for its object the recovery of New York, still in possession of the British. A French fleet, to arrive in August, was expected to cöoperate. In pursuance of this plan, the allied forces were concentrated at Kingsbridge, fifteen miles above New York.

While these movements were in progress, it was unexpectedly announced that the destination of the French fleet was the Chesapeake, instead of New York; and here the Count de Grasse, at length, arrived with twenty-eight ships of the line, several frigates, and three thousand troops.

This intelligence manifested the necessity of a change of purpose. Without the cöoperation of a fleet, it would be impossible to succeed in the reduction of New York. Besides, there now opened an equally, if not a more important enterprise, in a different quarter.

Lord Cornwallis, who had for some time conducted the military operations of the British at the South, as we have had occasion to notice, had concentrated his forces at Yorktown, in Virginia, which, together with Gloucester Point, he had strongly fortified. His army consisted of ten thousand effective men.

Washington was not long in deciding the course which the interests of his country required him to pursue. He was now ready to follow the indications of Providence: and it was now apparent that a victory over Cornwallis must necessarily forward the triumph of the patriot cause. It was happily ordered that the French fleet should have the Chesapeake for its destination. In that vicinity, the final conflict was to be waged; there, the pride of Britain was to be humbled; there, the last act in the drama was to transpire.

Pursuant to his altered purposes, Washington put his army in motion, and on the 25th of August, the passage of the Hudson was effected.

It being a point of great moment to conceal the real object of this movement, the march of the army was continued until the 31st, in such a direction as to keep up fears for New York; and a considerable degree of address was used to countenance the opinion that the real design was against that place. The letters which had been intercepted by Sir Henry Clinton favored this deception; and so strong was the impression made, that after it became necessary for the combined army to leave the route leading down the Hudson, he is stated to have retained his fears for New York, and not to have suspected the real object of his adversary, until he had approached the Delaware, and it had become too late to obstruct the progress of the allied army towards Virginia. He then resolved to make every exertion in his power to relieve Lord Cornwallis, and, in the mean time, to act offensively in the North. An expedition was planned against New London, in Connecticut; and a strong detachment, under the command of General Arnold, was embarked on board a fleet of transports, which landed early in the morning of the 6th of September on both sides of the harbor, about three miles from the town. The result of this expedition--so infamous to Arnold--so inhuman--so contrary to all the laws governing modern warfare--is too well known to need recital here.

The progress of Washington could not consistently be arrested by such an incursion, ready, as in other circumstances he would have been, to have hastened to the defence of his fellow-citizens, against so vindictive a monster as that traitor had shown himself to be. Momentous results were now depending upon accelerated movements; and, accordingly, he urged his troops forward to the extent of their power.

Having made the necessary arrangements for the conveyance of his army down the Chesapeake, Washington, accompanied by several distinguished officers, French and American, hastened forward to Williamsburg, where, in an interview with the Count de Grasse, a system of operations for the contemplated siege was devised.

On the 25th of September, the last division of the allied troops arrived in James' river, and were disembarked at the landing near Williamsburg. On the 30th, the combined armies, twelve thousand in number, moved upon Yorktown and Gloucester, at which time the fleet of Count de Grasse proceeded up York river, with the double object of preventing the retreat of Cornwallis, and intercepting his supplies.

The village of Yorktown lies on the south side of York river. Its southern banks are high. In its waters a ship-of-the-line could ride with safety. Gloucester Point projects far into the river on the opposite shore. Both these posts were occupied by Cornwallis--the main body of the army being at York, under the immediate command of his lordship; Lieutenant-colonel Tarleton was stationed at Gloucester with a detachment of about six hundred men. Every possible effort had been made to fortify these posts. The interests involved were of incalculable magnitude. A failure now, Cornwallis could not but perceive, would put to hazard the royal cause. Every expedient, therefore, was adopted, which was calculated to secure his success, and give victory to the British arms.

Washington was equally impressed with the greatness of the enterprise in which he had embarked. The eyes of his countrymen were turned with intense interest to the issues of the impending contest. Nor can it be doubted that supplications went up from thousands of family altars, and from private closets, that the God of the Pilgrim Fathers would interpose for the salvation of a people, who, from their first landing on these shores, had regarded his honor as their highest object, and the enjoyment of rational liberty as their greatest privilege.

The preparations having now been completed, Yorktown was invested, upon which Cornwallis, abandoning all his advanced works, retired behind his principal fortifications. The former were immediately occupied by the besiegers.

It is not important to detail the events of each succeeding day, as this siege progressed. Washington, calm and collected, continued to extend his batteries towards the principal works of the enemy. The cannonade from the British line of defences was furious and incessant. On the 16th, a fierce sortie was made by the British, an American battery was stormed--the artillerists were overpowered, and seven cannon spiked; but the Americans rallied, and succeeded in recovering all that was lost.

Finding his situation extremely critical, Cornwallis now decided on abandoning his sick, together with his baggage, and, crossing to Gloucester, to attempt an escape to New York. In pursuance of this plan, boats, prepared under various pretexts, were held in readiness to receive the troops at ten in the evening, and convey them over the river. The arrangements were made with such secresy, that the first embarkation arrived at the Point unperceived, and part of the troops were landed, when a sudden and violent storm interrupted the execution of this hazardous plan, and drove the boats down the river. The storm continued till near daylight, when the boats returned. But the plan was necessarily abandoned, and the boats were sent to bring back the soldiers, who were rëlanded on the southern shore in the course of the forenoon without much loss.

On the morning of the 17th, several new batteries which had been completed were opened, and a more appalling, and, if possible, destructive fire, was commenced upon the British works. It could no longer be withstood. Cornwallis became convinced of the folly of protracting a contest which was only weakening his forces, and sacrificing the lives of his troops. It was a most unwelcome and humiliating necessity, but that necessity existed, and at ten o'clock he ordered the British lines to beat a parley. This was immediately followed by a proposed cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours, with reference to a settlement of terms of capitulation. Washington, in his reply, expressed his desire to stay the effusion of blood, but not one moment could he lose in fruitless negotiations. His lordship might transmit his proposals, and two hours would be given to consider them. These were transmitted, but they proved unsatisfactory. Washington now himself dictated the terms; and they were the same as given to Lincoln at the fall of Charleston. At the appointed time, the conquered army, with colors cased, and drums silent, marched out, and laid down their arms. Lincoln was appointed to receive the sword of Cornwallis--an honor which he deserved--and a service doubtless the more grateful from the circumstance that, eighteen months before, he had been compelled to surrender his sword to an English commander. It was an imposing spectacle. To the British, the more humiliating, as it cast a shade over all their prospects of success in the land of rebellion--to the Americans, the more grateful, as it was a presage of an end to their toils and hardships. The conduct of Cornwallis, on the occasion of surrender, was unbecoming the firm and high-minded officer. He was not present, but appointed another to tender his sword in his place. There are men who can participate in the honors of victory, and claim their full portion--but who are too proud to share with their fellow-officers and soldiers the mortification of defeat. Cornwallis was one.

To Washington and his army the issue of this contest was most joyful; and in token of that joy, orders were issued that all under arrest, should forthwith be set at liberty. But this was not enough. A public recognition of the Divine goodness seemed befitting; accordingly, in his public orders, in terms most solemn and impressive, he directed that divine service should be performed in the different brigades and divisions. All the troops not on duty were recommended to be present, and to assist in the solemn and grateful homage paid to the Benefactor of the nation.

8. TREATY OF PEACE.

The first intelligence received in America from England, after the news of the battle of Yorktown had reached that country, was different in its tenor from what had been expected. The Americans regarded it as the finishing stroke of the war, and anticipated a similar estimation of the battle in England. But on the assembling of parliament in November, 1781, the speech from the throne breathed a settled purpose to continue the war; and the addresses from both houses, which were carried by large majorities, echoed the sentiment.

But when the first excitement had passed, and men began to contemplate the posture of things with calm and enlightened reason, they saw the folly of persisting in the contest. To conquer America by force, was impracticable, and the further waste of treasure and blood, was both impolitic and inhuman.