American Crisis
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Shelburne instructed Carleton to make the best terms possible for the loyalists, but he provided few specific details. Some in London went so far as to hope that the rebels might offer direct compensation to their defeated foes or even welcome them back. If they could not return to their former homes, Shelburne instructed Carleton to treat the king’s friends “with the tenderest and most honourable care giving them every assistance and prudent assurance of attention in whatever other parts of America in His Majesty’s possession they chuse to settle.”16 Under no circumstances, however, could they be an obstacle to peace. As he explained during a speech in the House of Lords, “A part must be wounded that the whole of the Empire may not perish.”17 Since the independence of America, “the object of the war” had been conceded; all else, he told Carleton and Digby, was to “be considered rather as collateral and incidental than as principals to the present dispute.”18 The loyalists were “collateral” damage. Eventually, many of those who sacrificed for the king would gain compensation, but not from American pockets. Payment to them would be years in coming from the Crown and never arrived in amounts to compensate sufficiently those who had lost so much.
Carleton’s most pressing challenge was withdrawing and redeploying thousands of troops accompanied by mountains of supplies, and growing numbers of loyalists, to various locations including the West Indies, England, and Canada. He had to coordinate the evacuations of Savannah, Charleston, New York, and Penobscot.19 At no time is a military force more exposed than when it is leaving a position in the face of an enemy. Since there was no official truce, Carleton had reason to believe that given the chance, the Americans might strike.20 Gradual withdrawal was an invitation to attack. Departure needed to be rapid. Every soldier and loyalist who left, and whatever they left with, would go by sea.
Supplying ships for evacuation was the responsibility of the Navy Board. A vital cog in the imperial machine, the board had charge of “the transport of troops, naval stores, military clothing, equipment, [and] provisions.”21 Technically under the direction of the Admiralty, the civilian members of the board had a habit of independence that often put them at odds with their uniformed superiors. Sir Charles Middleton, comptroller and head of the board, was a savvy “bureaucrat imperialist.”22
In the early years of the war the board did a remarkable job transporting and supporting the king’s armies in America. Hundreds of ships shuttled back and forth across the North Atlantic and along the American coast carrying men and material. Although the Continental navy and local privateers managed to harass the supply lines and capture some vessels, the North Atlantic weather was a tougher foe than anything the enemy might dispatch. Keeping up the Atlantic ferry wore out ships. At first the board managed to stay the odds put up by the enemy and nature, but the entrance of France and Spain into the war brought a global dimension to the board’s work. Tasked to support the king’s forces in Africa, India, and the West Indies as well as North America, the board stretched resources beyond its capabilities. Spanning distant waters brought great hazards. As Admiral Digby remarked when asked to send ships to the West Indies, “Whatever goes to the West Indies, seldom returns.”23
Early in 1782, during the closing days of the North ministry, the Admiralty asked Middleton and the Navy Board what plan they might have to remove forces from America. The board responded that, according to its estimates, eighty-five thousand tons of shipping (approximately four hundred vessels) would be required to execute a full evacuation. Finding that amount of tonnage, the board proclaimed, was impossible. Its alternative was to gather forty to fifty thousand tons to evacuate New York first and then turn to the southern posts. But even that reduced scale of transport could only be achieved if virtually every bottom under the authority of the board could be gathered up and dispatched immediately to New York. The board’s proposal arrived at an inauspicious moment, coming precisely when the North ministry was collapsing in March 1782. Nothing could be accomplished until a new government took the reins. Even then, however, preparations moved slowly, and when Carleton arrived in New York he was vexed to find only two dozen transports swinging at anchor. He wrote Shelburne that with the resources at hand it was “impossible” to evacuate America quickly.24
While Middleton scrambled to find tonnage, Carleton, faced with an obvious shortage of shipping, ignored the board’s proposal and laid out his own scheme for leaving America. Being more vulnerable, the southern posts, not New York, would be evacuated first in the order of Savannah, Charleston, and, if necessary, St. Augustine. The latter, for the moment, was safely beyond American reach and not in immediate danger. New York City and Penobscot would come later. British regulars were to be sent to Canada and the West Indies while the German mercenaries, to get them off the payroll and save expense, he ordered returned to Europe. Altogether, approximately thirty-five thousand troops needed transport along with their considerable supply train.25
Adding to this logistical nightmare were thousands of loyalists to be carried away. Estimates of their numbers grew to more than thirty thousand as each day more and more came across the lines into the city seeking sanctuary. The scale was unprecedented. Sir Guy Carleton had charge of the largest movement of ships and people in the history of the empire.26
Carleton dispatched orders to his subordinates in late June to prepare for embarkation. Not all were pleased. In a peremptory manner Georgia’s royal governor, Sir James Wright, wrote Carleton, “I am afraid Sir, the situation of affairs here was not properly and sufficiently known to your Excellency or I trust such steps [evacuation] would not have been taken.”27 Carleton may have read Wright’s letter with bitter irony, as it expressed the sentiments he wanted to write to his own superiors. Similar complaints came from Charleston, where the ever-whining Major General Alexander Leslie protested abandoning the city while begging on his own behalf, for reasons of health, to be relieved of command so that he might return to England.28 In ranks closer to home at New York, muffled dissent echoed through the officers’ mess. Captain William Feilding, a royal marine officer stationed in New York, expressed the feelings of his comrades. With the French defeat at the Saintes he thought the war was turning in favor of the British. “Independence” ought, he said, “never happen.”29
Initially, Carleton viewed the refugees in a dim light. He had been instructed to negotiate with the Americans, but the loyalists stood in his way. The defiant and outrageous behavior of the Associated Loyalists and their leader, William Franklin, made negotiations with Washington impossible. Fortunately for the loyalists, events softened Carleton’s attitude. Once he disbanded the Associated Loyalists, and Franklin sailed for England, he developed a more sympathetic understanding of their plight. He was also influenced through his friendship with the intelligent and thoughtful Chief Justice William Smith. Through him Carleton became acquainted with loyalists of similar character, who were, he concluded, worthy and deserving of his help.30 To their great relief, the refugees discovered, according to the Tory historian Thomas Jones, that Carleton was increasingly ready to listen to “all complaints, and was determined not to sacrifice the loyalists, nor leave the country, till every one of them who chose to go should be sent off.”31
As “His Majesty’s Commander in Chief in North America,” Carleton had authority extending north to Canada and the province of Nova Scotia.32 Encouraged by the government in London, Carleton launched a massive effort to transport and relocate loyalist refugees there.33
Ceded to Great Britain by the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713, Nova Scotia, then including present-day New Brunswick, had long enjoyed a close association with the other American colonies, particularly New England. Although fertile land was limited, confined mostly to areas abutting the Bay of Fundy, the province had abundant timber and its ports stood close to rich fishing grounds. Halifax on the Atlantic coast was one of the finest harbors in North America. Lightly populated, the province had vast areas of unsettled land belonging to the Crown.34
For some year
s Nova Scotia had been in political disarray. In 1776, alarmed by reports of unrest, the king summoned the province’s governor, Francis Legge, home to answer serious accusations of misconduct. The Board of Trade cleared him of any specific charge but found him “wanting in that Gracious and Conciliating Deportment which the delicacy of the times and the tempers of men under agitation and alarm particularly demanded.”35 While Legge sat in political limbo in London, the province fell under the de facto rule of the Halifax elite, operating under a series of temporary naval lieutenant governors, “who took little interest in local matters.”36 The last of these naval governors, Andrew Snape Hamond, was on duty in the early fall of 1782 when Carleton dispatched orders instructing him to prepare to receive “upwards of 600 persons” who were about to embark for Nova Scotia. Carleton directed Hamond to assist them in choice of land and “help with building.”37 Two weeks later the first of hundreds of transports cleared Sandy Hook and laid a course for Halifax.38
Hamond’s tenure as governor came to an abrupt end when, to his chagrin since he expected the post to be permanent, in July 1782 Shelburne appointed one of his London cronies, John Parr, to the governorship. Dismissal of the popular Hamond did not sit well with the Haligonians, and Parr received a cool welcome. Almost immediately Parr had to cope with the onslaught of loyalist refugees, while also salving local resentment at the disruption caused by his appointment. Inevitably, not everything went smoothly. Lands promised to the new arrivals had not been properly surveyed, and methods of allotment were not clear. Adding to the distress was a lack of adequate food and shelter. Many refugees would have to endure a harsh winter outfitted with only the barest necessities, living off codfish, molasses, and hard biscuits.39
While managing the loyalist diaspora, Carleton continued to direct military and civilian evacuation from Savannah and Charleston. To avoid giving any cause for American interference, Carleton gave orders that those cities were to be left unmolested. Nothing, not even fortifications, was to be harmed.40 Since Savannah was the smaller of the two cities, Carleton ordered that it be abandoned first. Transports arrived in late June. They took nearly two weeks to load, but finally, on July 11, 3,200 loyalists and 3,500 slaves embarked for New York. A few days later, on July 20, six ships with ten white families and more than 1,500 slaves left for Jamaica, and seven vessels sailed two days later with 580 loyalists and 748 slaves for St. Augustine. Last to depart were 2,000 troops bound for New York. Since there were not enough ships to accommodate everyone, 5,000 whites and slaves were left to trek south through stifling summer heat to the safety of St. Augustine, where Carleton had determined the garrison would, for the time being at least, remain in place.41
Charleston posed a greater challenge than Savannah. General Leslie was in a perilous position. Thousands of loyalists had sought refuge with him in the city. Most had brought their slaves with them, creating a huge number of mouths to feed. Cut off by the Americans from the countryside, and having no reliable supply by sea, Leslie proposed a truce to the American commander Nathanael Greene and asked permission to purchase supplies, assuring the general that this was only a temporary measure, and that as soon as possible he would withdraw. Greene dodged the issue and referred the request to Congress, suspecting that the British were likely to starve before that body took any action. Seeing no alternative, Leslie decided reluctantly to launch a series of foraging expeditions into enemy territory. Greene was ready, and on August 27 the two forces engaged at Combahee Ferry about forty miles southwest of Charleston. The fight was indecisive, the British withdrew, but with sufficient time to complete their mission. The most memorable result from this relatively insignificant engagement was the unfortunate death of Colonel John Laurens, the son of South Carolina’s most notable patriot Henry Laurens.42 Young Laurens was a gallant officer with an impressive combat record. He had also served briefly in Paris with the American delegation and for a time had been aide-de-camp to Washington, where he and another aide, Alexander Hamilton, had become close friends.43 The usually stoic commander in chief was particularly touched upon learning of Laurens’s death.44 “The death of Colo Laurens I consider as a very heavy misfortune.” He was “particularly dear.”45
After considerable delay, on September 20 Carleton was finally able to dispatch the first convoy of transports to Charleston.46 The ships left New York and ten days later dropped anchor off the town. The first to board were 1,400 loyalists, nearly 1,700 slaves, and 1,200 provincial troops bound for St. Augustine. A few days later another contingent left for Halifax. By late fall enough additional vessels had arrived for a full evacuation. Fearing an American attack on his rear guard, Leslie, in defiance of Carleton’s orders, warned the American commander Anthony Wayne that should any attempt be made on his men, he would burn the town. Without consulting his superiors, Wayne agreed quickly to a de facto truce, later telling Greene that “the preservation of Charlestown [sic], and the lives and property of it’s inhabitants being of much greater consequence, than striking or capturing a rear guard of a retiring enemy.”47 The last British troops were ferried to their waiting transports on December 14. A few days later the convoy cleared the harbor, leaving the city unharmed.48 On Carleton’s orders, most of the whites, nearly 4,000, accompanied by more than 5,000 slaves, went to St. Augustine, Jamaica, or St. Lucia. The bulk of the troops, including Germans eventually bound for Europe, sailed for New York.49
With the arrival of the southern evacuees the population of St. Augustine swelled to more than seventeen thousand, making it one of the largest cities in North America. In the final treaty (1783) St. Augustine, as part of East Florida, was given over to the Spanish, forcing those who had left Georgia and South Carolina to move once again, some to Nova Scotia, a few back to the United States, and the remainder to the sugar islands.50
British concern for loyalists did not extend to Native Americans who had also been faithful allies of the Crown. In the North the Iroquois had played a critical role assisting General Haldimand in the borderlands of upstate New York. Led by the indomitable Joseph Brant (Thayendanegea), whose elder sister “Molly” was mistress to Sir William Johnson, Iroquois warriors, principally from the Mohawk, Onondaga, Cayuga, and Seneca tribes, helped keep the area in upstate and central New York in violent turmoil. In retaliation, adopting a scorched-earth strategy, a powerful American force under General John Sullivan swept through Iroquois territory in the summer of 1779, burning more than forty villages and destroying thousands of bushels of corn, beans, and squash that the Iroquois needed to survive the coming winter. To escape the Americans, nearly five thousand Iroquois fled north to the safety of Fort Niagara.
Sullivan’s expedition brought only a momentary respite to the northern frontier. As one of Sullivan’s officers, Major Jeremiah Fogg, wrote, “The nests are destroyed, but the birds are still on the wing,” and in the spring of 1780 Iroquois warriors swept south to take bloody revenge. For the rest of the war upstate New York remained unsettled.51
Having sacrificed so much in the cause of his king, Brant was stunned when he learned that peace was in the offing and that Indian attacks would cease. No one had consulted them. Haldimand reported that the Indians were “thunderstruck” at being abandoned. “Policy, as well as gratitude, demands of us an attention to the sufferings and future situation of these unhappy people, involved on our accounts in the miseries of war.”52 He feared that under the circumstances they could not be “entirely restrained.”53 Brigadier General Allan Maclean, the British commander at Fort Niagara, shared Haldimand’s concern. Brant, he told Haldimand, must “be detained” for “he is much better informed and instructed than any other Indian” and so is “much more sensible of the miserable situation in which we have left this unfortunate people that I do believe he would do a great deal of mischief here at this time. I do from my soul pity these poor people.”54
London responded by telling Haldimand that he ought to persuade the Iroquois to abandon their homelands in the United States and move to
the north side of Lake Ontario, where they might find new hunting grounds and perhaps even take up farming.55
In the South the situation was equally pitiful, but more confused. At various times during the war the two dominant tribes, Cherokee and Creek, confronted both the British and the Americans.56 Early in the war the British persuaded the Cherokee to attack American settlements in Georgia and the Carolinas. Warned in advance of the Cherokee attack, General Charles Lee, commander of Continental forces, gathered a joint body of militia from Georgia, the Carolinas, and Virginia to march against the Cherokee towns. With no British support available, the Cherokee (unlike the Iroquois, who could depend upon help from the British in nearby Canada) found themselves at a considerable disadvantage, and in May 1777 they sued for peace, surrendering a huge chunk of their ancestral lands to the Americans.
Other southern tribes took a lesson from the fate of the Cherokee and were cautious about confronting the rebels. The Creek, for example, the most powerful of the southern nations, initially adopted a policy of neutrality but with a pro-British tilt. In 1778, however, with the British capture of Savannah and a renewed focus by them on the South, the Creek abandoned neutrality and openly sided with the king’s forces. The decision proved to be unwise, and as British fortunes declined in the South the Creek found themselves in a dire situation. The capture of Pensacola in West Florida, in May 1781, by a Spanish force led by Bernardo de Gálvez cut the Creek off from British supplies, forcing them to flee to the safety of St. Augustine, the last British post in the South.57 In the spring of 1783, when they learned that Florida was to be returned to Spain and that the British were leaving, they begged unsuccessfully to join them. A dismayed Thomas Browne, the king’s Indian agent, and the person who had been instrumental in recruiting the Creek, wrote to Carleton, “I don’t believe it; an Englishman will never turn his back and betray his friends.”58