FLETCHER’S MILL & SURROUNDINGS
SOUTH CAROLINA 1781
DECISION AT
FLETCHER’S MILL
A Novel of the American Revolution
David Caringer
© 2018 David Caringer
Decision at Fletcher’s Mill
A Novel of the American Revolution
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Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Pre-launch ISBN: 978-1-595558008
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018949422
ISBN 978-1-595557896 (Paperback)
ISBN 978-1-595558183 (Hardbound)
ISBN 978-1-595557940 (eBook)
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“For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”
JESUS CHRIST
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
PROLOGUE
It was 1781. The war for American freedom from the British Crown had been slogging on since before the colonies declared their independence in 1776. The English people and their rebellious colonies were exhausted with war. A bloody stalemate existed now in the northern colonies. The French had entered the war on the side of the rebels. George Washington and his Continental Army had endured many years of hardship. The rebel forces won some surprising victories at places like Saratoga, Trenton, Princeton, and Charleston. But they also suffered many tragic defeats at the hands of the most powerful army on earth.
The continentals survived brutal winters outside Boston and at places like Valley Forge and Morristown. During the worst of these struggles for survival, the Continental Army slowly changed from an undisciplined mass of militias to a defined fighting force under the leadership of Washington and the tutelage of Friedrich Von Steuben. They had lost many battles, but the Continental Army still stood. They were now able to face the British wherever called upon.
The French were a growing presence in the American conflict. The war had spread globally. It could have been considered a world war in scope and destruction. The British were now entrenched in New York. They needed to find another way to crush the rebellion before the cause to retain the colonies for their king was lost. They were repulsed once at Charleston. They would try again. This time, they divided their sizeable force and sent the stronger part south to open another front. Invading the Carolina colonies, they would push northward through Virginia to create a huge envelopment around Washington’s forces from both east and south.
Institutionalized slavery was a fundamental part of the plantation-oriented economies of the southern colonies. This absurd feature in everyday life had existed for generations. It would continue. Individual humans and whole families were bought and sold, abused, and destroyed for the sake of cheap agricultural labor. Slavery was seen by many clergymen in the south as an evil necessity. Some even thought it was Biblically sanctioned through their own sad misunderstanding of Scripture.
The second British invasion attempt at Charleston was initially successful. They enjoyed early victories as they had in the north at the beginning of the war. This began to change slowly when the Royal Army failed to understand the effectiveness of rebel partisan militia. These irregular forces conducted guerilla warfare under the outstanding leadership of men like the “Swamp Fox” Francis Marion, James Johnston, and others. British conventional methods had to be cruelly adapted to be effective. The south was soon plunged into terror and chaos as the desperate struggle settled on the land like a violent plague. With time, the chaos even found its way to a once-peaceful place in western South Carolina known as Fletcher’s Mill.
CHAPTER 1
Asudden gust of cold damp wind swept through the scattered trees and scrub. This brought tears to the eyes of twenty-year-old Private Billy Morgan as he strained to see traces of movement at the far end of the sloping meadow. The gray light of dawn didn’t help much. Billy was a twisted mixture of conflicting emotions. The fear and excitement he felt in this moment was overshadowed by his humiliation and the contempt of those men around him who now saw through his lie. He crouched close to his only real friend, Silas Whitaker. He felt small comfort in the fact that they were part of the thin line of militia riflemen far out in front of the more substantial lines of continental troops. Billy would have once felt honored to be hand-picked for this job in recognition of his astounding accuracy with the rifle. He couldn’t shake off the taunts and jeers he brought on himself from the men that he so wanted to accept him.
Billy and Silas left their homes in western Virginia and walked more than one hundred miles to join the militia in North Carolina. Over a thousand American rebels, both continental regulars and militiamen, searched the distant tree line now for the approaching enemy. It was very cold for South Carolina on this January morning. Billy and many of the men around him shivered uncontrollably. The rain stopped, but the sky remained steel gray even as the daylight increased. The continental regulars and the militiamen from Georgia and the Carolinas had camped in the meadow overnight and were prepared for the fight they knew was coming.
The commander of this combined American force was none other than the “Old Wagoner” himself, Brigadier General Daniel Morgan. They were detached from the main southern Continental Army of General Nathaniel Greene. They had marched from North Carolina into the western “backcountry” of South Carolina to harass the
British loyalists and to strengthen the exploits of the “Overmountain Men” and other rebel forces responsible for the decisive victory in October at the battle of Kings Mountain. The British had split their southern forces as well and sent a rather large battle-hardened contingent in pursuit of Morgan’s small army. General Morgan retreated northward through the driving rain and soon decided to make a stand here with his back to the swollen Broad River.
Silas punched Billy and pointed slightly to the right, saying, “There!” in a whispered gasp. Billy also noticed the movement as he shifted his gaze. Two distant horsemen in the hated green uniforms of the British “legion” moved slowly into the bottom of the meadow and stopped. One of them put a glass to his eye and slowly surveyed the line of militiamen drawn across the upper part of the meadow.
One of the horsemen was Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton. Tarleton was in command of this combined force of British cavalry and light infantry. His scouts watched the rebel militia for almost half an hour before reporting the enemy presence to him. He received the news while he was back with the infantry commander trying to cajole more speed out of his exhausted troops. Tarleton was elated as he hurried forward to verify that he had finally caught up with the rebel force they were chasing.
Tarleton knew the value of lightning-quick strikes against frightened militia. He wore a well-earned reputation among the rebels, and his own troops, as a callous “butcher” of the militia he so deeply despised. He understood the landscape in this area from the available maps and the descriptions given by the loyalist militia guides under his command. Tarleton knew this large sloping meadow was called the “Cowpens” because it had been used for many years as an area to collect the local herds. He also knew that his enemy was trapped with their backs to an impassable river that was swollen by the recent torrential rains.
Colonel Tarleton scoffed as he concluded that “General” Morgan had blundered into this trap in such a predictably amateur way. Turning around, he galloped back into the trees and began shouting the orders necessary to bring his superior force into the correct formation for attack. He planned to send his cavalry dragoons forward first. They would be followed by the lines of advancing infantry. There were two small “grasshopper” canons at his disposal also, but he didn’t intend to wait for them to be brought up. Tarleton’s force consisted primarily of the best available cavalry and the finest British light infantry. He believed that this ragtag rebel mob would flee in terror as they witnessed the inexorable advance of His Majesty’s Finest. It had happened so many times before. Why should this battle be any different?
Colonel Tarleton was filled with nationalist pride and contempt for the rebellious scoundrels he faced on the field this day. He could easily imagine the panic and the sight of men dropping everything to run away in terror. He could almost hear the frightened cries for quarter. His men would give quarter to these scum, “Tarleton’s Quarter.” Yes, he knew the meaning of the phrase. It was used by his enemies and critics as an insult. His men had executed a great many of these wretches after they rose in rebellion against the king. They usually surrendered quickly enough at the first sight of the king’s army righteously advancing with their leveled bayonets.
Tarleton wasn’t intentionally cruel to honorable men, but these weren’t honorable men. They dared to rebel against the king. They dared to pretend that they could stand against the Royal Army. They dared attempt to stand on this or any battlefield and resist him, Banastre Tarleton. He now reveled in the accusations and the reputation they brought him. After all, his men were simply using their sabers and bayonets to extinguish these miserable curs while they whined and plead with their hands in the air.
Billy was still stinging from the insults and catcalls he endured when his comrades learned of his earlier lie. He and Silas joined the militia because they wanted to be part of the cause of freedom as the colonies struggled to throw off the tyranny of the British Crown. Silas thought he knew Billy’s family well. They had been friends since Billy was a small boy constantly tagging along with Silas and his comrades. Silas was like an older brother to Billy. When the boy’s father died, it was Silas who taught Billy to hunt, fish, and survive in the wilderness. Silas was surprised when he first learned of Billy’s outlandish claims. He knew Billy’s father moved his family south to the back country of Virginia from the Pennsylvania Colony when Billy was just a babe in arms.
Silas and his brothers helped the elder William Morgan clear his land and build a stout home for his wife and children. Silas fell deeply in love with Billy’s older sister, Rachel, and he believed she shared his feelings. William was a quiet man who never spoke about his reasons for leaving Pennsylvania. Silas thought he knew the family well, but now he realized that he didn’t. When he first heard the whispered talk among the other men, he didn’t know what to think. He remained loyal to his young friend regardless of what was said. He agreed to travel down with Billy out of the mountains into the southern piedmont for more than just the cause of freedom. He intended to marry Rachel and he couldn’t refuse her when she asked him to watch over the young man until he got this foolishness out of his system.
Billy made a stupid mistake when they finally did join up. Like most young men thrust into the company of older men, he wanted to be accepted and respected. Rather than earning that respect through hard work and demonstrated integrity, he tried to gain it through a stupid lie. He bragged to the other men in his company that Colonel Daniel Morgan was his uncle, even though he didn’t know of any real relationship with the heroic Virginia rifleman. Billy overheard his parent’s quiet arguments about their estranged relatives in the north when he was a child. He knew they weren’t the only Morgan family to move south into western Virginia.
Everyone knew most of the legends surrounding Daniel Morgan. He was rumored to be a great grandson of the pirate Henry Morgan. He was thought to be Daniel Boone’s cousin. He was known to be one of the survivors of the ill-fated Braddock campaign during the French and Indian War. He was one of a very small number of men who ever survived 499 lashes from an English whip. Morgan was working for the British army as a civilian teamster during the war when he ran afoul of an overbearing British officer. The disagreement became violent and ended with Morgan striking the officer. He was immediately arrested and subjected to the justice of a British military court.
The sentence of 499 lashes was considered a form of capital punishment because it usually resulted in the horrific death of the person being flogged. Its purpose was, in fact, to strike terror into the English soldiers forced to witness it, so that they would not repeat the crime that brought about the punishment. Morgan miraculously survived the flogging with an undiminished certainty regarding his own innocence. He came away from the ordeal with a seething hatred for the British that never diminished, along with chronic back problems that lasted the rest of his life. Daniel Morgan was also known to be one of the true heroes of the victory at Saratoga, along with the now-hated Benedict Arnold.
Billy simply made use of the fact that no one but Silas knew him in his new militia unit and that he and the great hero shared the last name, Morgan. In fact, the whole thing started when he signed his name to the enlistment roll. The sergeant quipped, “Any kin to Daniel Morgan?” Billy responded, “What if he’s my uncle?” The lie took on a life of its own after that. For a while, he was actually treated with deference by his captain and some of the others. This began to wane when he continued to embellish the “legend.” Billy was struck with terror when his company learned that Daniel Morgan had been promoted to brigadier general and placed in command of their part of the southern army by General Nathaniel Greene.
The inevitable embarrassing moment occurred two days ago during the forced march across the South Carolina countryside. At a brief halt, the general and his small entourage of aids rode back past Billy’s company and left the trail for a small hill about thirty yards away. His colonel used the moment to impress the general by dragging Billy, “his nephew
,” over for an impromptu family reunion. When Billy resisted, the colonel became furious and wanted to know why. Billy tried to quietly confess the lie to the colonel just as the general started back toward the trail. The general heard part of what was said and stopped his horse a few feet away. Billy felt the sky darken as Daniel Morgan shook his head slowly and spat tobacco juice onto the ground at Billy’s feet. The general then laughed deeply without saying anything and rode on up the trail.
Billy returned to the rest of the unit covered with sullen shame. The story soon spread. He found himself to be the butt of every cruel joke his comrades could invent. The only man who didn’t participate in the cruelty was Silas. The two would always be fast friends in spite of Billy’s failure. Silas seemed to see a youthful version of himself in this young Virginian. The two men shared a common love of the land. They shared a common love of Billy’s sister. They were both excellent woodsmen, and they were both astoundingly accurate shots with their long colonial rifles. Regardless of his immaturity and his dramatic failure with the “Uncle Dan” story, as it was now laughingly known, Billy was probably the best marksman in the small militia company. He and Silas had obtained meat for their suppers on several occasions when other hunters and foragers came in empty-handed. Silas only narrowly avoided a few fistfights when the truth about “Uncle Dan” came out, but it passed.
General Morgan moved through the camp the previous night, visiting the units on the hillside and along the banks of Thickety Creek. He gave hearty talks of encouragement to the frightened militiamen, along with detailed instructions to each of his unit commanders. The speeches he made that night would become legendary as he used humor, threats, pleas, and promises in his unique “Old Wagoner” way to build the spirits and the tactical understanding of his men.
Billy and Silas listened intently to him among a large number of men around their campfire. They heard him say, “Men, I know you’re scared. We’re all scared. I’m scared. None of us would be normal if we wasn’t. But let me tell you what scares me most. It ain’t the British. It ain’t their swords, or them bayonets. It sure ain’t old Benny Tarleton! No. I ain’t scared of any of that! What scares me is lettin’ you good fellas down by not seeing how yer brains work in battle and failin’ to use you right. I know rifles. I know riflemen. I know some of you could pick one of them fleas off old Benny’s moustache at three hundred paces….” He paused to let the laughter die. “That’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about. We’re gonna line the best shots among you up as a picket screen about a hundred paces out front of the rest of you.
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