III

The Americans

THE unexpected news of the arrival off Georgia of the French fleet which Viscount de Fontanges brought to Charlestown on the third of September had produced an electric effect in South Carolina. With little deference to military security the newspapers of the city heralded the event. “The same Night,” reported The Gazette of the State of South-Carolina, “arrived here M. le Vicomte de Fontanges, from His Excellency the Count d’Estaing, who is not far distant with a very powerful Fleet and Land Forces of our great and good Ally, His Christian Majesty, come purposely to the Relief of these invaded States. We expect important intelligence every hour!” Information useful to the English but lacking here was furnished by another Charlestown newspaper the same day. “Late last night,” read an item that greatly irritated the French, “the Lieutenant of Marines of the armed brig Bellona, came up to town with intelligence of His Excellency Count d’Estaing’s fleet, consisting of 25 sail of the line, 20 frigates and 3 courvettes or sloops at anchor on Thursday noon, in 14 fathom water, off Tybee; on board the fleet are 5000 land forces.”¹

The Bellona had violated d’Estaing’s orders by leaving the fleet. One of his chief virtues, as a general, said du Petit-Thouars, was that “of covering his projects with the most impenetrable veil.” He had carefully guarded his secret as to this expedition, To be sure, the cleverer officers in d’Estaing’s squadron, seeing the Negro troops being embarked in San Domingo, had promptly deduced that their objective lay no further north than South Carolina. But the only living soul in the West Indies to whom the Vice-Admiral had confided his plan of touching at Charlestown for the purpose of aiding the Americans before proceeding home via Halifax and Newfoundland had been the Governor of Hispaniola. The Count was bitter on the subject of the American press. “It is a terrible thing,” he reported, “The American newspapers, as little truthful as the English gazettes, are even more imprudent and nearly always tell their lies at the most inappropriate time.”²

For months the Americans had been urging the French to come, if only to show their faces off the coast. D’Estaing had been repeatedly told, he explained to his superiors, that “the American cause was in great peril and that all their hopes were based on my early arrival.” A Frenchman serving in the Continental army had been especially active in persuading him to come. “Never has this country been in greater need of help. It is necessary to defend it against itself and against the enemy. All here is in frightful confusion; very few regular troops, no help from the north, a feeble and badly disciplined militia and the greatest friction among the leaders.” So Colonel Brétigny had written from Charlestown, adding that South Carolina could look “in truth to you alone, Monsieur le Comte, to save her from peril.”³

Such eloquent appeals had proved irresistible to Count d’Estaing who explained later to the Minister of Marine, M. de Sartine, that “the cruel task” of the Georgia venture was “irrevocably imposed by national honor and by an irresistible train of events.” Whatever may have been the motives of glory his enemies attributed to him, the expedition against Georgia possessed immense implications for the cause of American freedom. With the British army in the South destroyed, Savannah again in American hands, and a French squadron on the coast, Lord Germain’s new overall strategy of war would die in the borning.

Major General Benjamin Lincoln, commanding the Southern Department, had hastily concentrated all his available forces to collaborate in the projected attack upon Savannah. “It has been proposed to the Count to land three thousand troops—I hope he will do it,” he wrote Samuel Huntington, assuring Congress that “every exertion will be made to cooperate with him.”⁴ Lincoln and Rutledge had been forced to confess their weaknesses to the French. “Most of our army is disbanded, the time for which they engaged to serve having some short time since expired.” Nevertheless, they had promised that “barring accidents” one thousand men would be in the field on the Georgia side of the Savannah near Ebenezer by the 11th “ready to cooperate with your Troops.”⁵

Interspersed by ammunition and baggage wagons and a few field pieces, the Americans strung out on the long road to Purysburg above Savannah. The elite of Carolina were marching—John Laurens (“The Bayard of the Revolution”), conspicuous in his regimentals and long-plumed hat; unprepossessing little Francis Marion, later immortalized as the “Swamp Fox”; Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, Jr.; Thomas Heyward, Jr., a signer of the Declaration of Independence; General Isaac Huger; Colonel Peter Horry; Dr. David Ramsay, the historian; Hezekiah Maham whose “Maham tower” would earn him a share of Revolutionary fame; and proud Pierce Butler, whose father was an Irish peer. Major Thomas Pinckney and a few other Americans had preceded them aboard the fast-sailing frigate commanded by La Pérouse.

As recently as September 1st, David Ramsay had despondently observed that “Most people expect the enemy here in October or November, and yet we are half asleep. . . . A spirit of money making has eaten up our patriotism.” But overnight the situation had changed. The militia was turning out “in all parts of the state, with such spirit and alacrity,” boasted The Gazette of the State of South-Carolina, “that the ferry-men at the several rivers cannot carry the men across fast enough.” The way they responded “redounds much to their honour,” attested another Charlestown editor.

They had come from the upcountry like General Andrew Williamson, who was accompanied by three nephews and three sons-in-law. They had come from the farmlands around Orangeburg as had William Thomson, a dead-shooting Continental veteran, bringing a son, a nephew, and his three sons-in-law. They had come from the great plantations of the tide-water region and from the mansions and counting-houses of Charlestown. They marched with light heart along roads matted with pine needles—“every one cheerful, as if we were sure of success; and no one doubted but that we had nothing more to do, than to march up to Savannah; and demand a surrender.” Thus General Moultrie was to write later, regretful at the time that he could not be there to have “shared the glory” but anticipating the pleasure of hearing soon “the joyful news of the surrender of Savannah.”⁶

Sickness and desertion had decimated the Continental establishment of South Carolina. Her six regiments were almost cadre organizations. Hardly a thousand men were left in the whole lot. Never zealous on the point of military etiquette, they insisted on unflapping their hats. They discarded gaiters and went bare-legged. They were the despair of officers with their long, uncombed hair and unshaven faces, which, as Colonel Marion of the Second Regiment complained in his Orderly Book, “makes them appear more like wild savages than soldiers.” But these Carolina regulars possessed fighting qualities that were to win high praise from the French at Savannah.

Meanwhile Casimir Pulaski advancing ahead of the main American force had crossed the Savannah with a handful of his Legion. The famous cavalry officer dispatched a message written in French to Count d’Estaing on the evening of September 12th. He informed him that “General Lincoln with artillery and about 600 infantry will pass the most difficult place tonight. General McIntosh is on the march. I think at this moment our forces will consist of 1000 infantrymen, 8 pieces of cannon and 260 cavalrymen. . . . After tomorrow General Lincoln will be able to place himself some miles from Savannah. He awaits your decision.”⁷

The tiny Georgia Continental detachment under Lachlan McIntosh (back from exile after the fatal duel with Button Gwinnett) was on its way down from Augusta. Three companies of Georgia militia were also en route. A number of these soldiers bore the names of future counties of the State—McIntosh, Twiggs, Jackson, Baker, Houstoun, Habersham, Meriwether, and White. There were also troops from Virginia. As usual that State had sent them off badly equipped. They had come to Georgia “without a Single Tent,” complained General McIntosh who wished that he had “some liquor for them to keep their Spirits up.” Discipline was often a problem in the armed forces of a burgeoning democracy. Among the several courts-martial convened at this period was that of Captain Belfield of the Virginia Light Dragoons who was charged with “ungentlemanly behaviour” in “associating with a private soldier.”⁸

The Continental Line of Georgia had been practically obliterated as a result of a series of disasters during the past year. Its arms were described by Colonel Elbert as a “medley of Rifles, old muskets & fowling pieces.” Dry moss was all that was available at times for wadding. Shoes consisted in many instances of moccasins cut from hides. Variety was the most distinguishing feature of the Georgia uniforms. One saw cocked hats, round hats, beaver hats, leather hats, and straw hats. There were breeches made of homespun, coarse white cloth, and buckskin. Black coats trimmed with red and blue coats edged in white were observed. Deerskin jackets were the nearest approach to uniformity of dress among the Georgians who made a sombre contrast to the brightly-garbed Frenchmen they would soon meet at Savannah—the Gâtinais Regiment with yellow collars and blue, yellow, and crimson pompons on their hats; the Foix with its distinguishing color of green; the Agénois of yellow; the Hainault violet; and the Auxerrois of black. Americans would gape at the spectacle of French generals and staff officers resplendent in royal blue coats with scarlet vests and breeches and high black boots.

It is unfortunate that the Marquis de Chouin and the Chevalier de Pontgibaud who so colorfully described the militia of New England were not along to record their impressions of the raw levies of Georgia and Carolina. An exception would have to be allowed, however, in the case of the Charlestown militia. Even Count d’Estaing did so. The militia of that city, he wrote, were “infinitely better armed and clothed than the others. Nearly all have cartridge-boxes, bayonets, stockings and shoes.”⁹ Among the American regulars only Pulaski’s outfit was to impress the French. According to an officer in the Agénois Regiment, the hundred lancers they saw at Savannah were “well equipped and excellently mounted.”

But other troops than those of Generals d’Estaing and Lincoln were trying to get to the town on which the finger of world history had suddenly come to rest. The scene shifts to Beaufort village.