 17 King's Mountain and the Patriots of Tennessee. Never was the South in so desperate a plight, as in the autumn months of that year of peril, 1780. The British had made themselves masters of Georgia and South Carolina and North Carolina were strongly threatened. The boastful Gaetz had been defeated at Camden so utterly that he ran away from his army faster than it did from the British, and in three days and a half afterward he rode alone into Hillsborough, North Carolina, two hundred miles away. Sumpter was defeated as badly and rode as fast to Charlotte without hat or saddle. Marion's small band was nearly the only American force left in South Carolina. Cornwallis, the British commander, was in an ecstasy of delight at his success. He felt sure that all the South was won. The harvest was ready and needed only to be reaped. He laid his plans to march north, winning victory after victory, till all America's South of Delaware should be conquered for the British crown. Then, if the North became free, the South would still be under the rule of George III. There was only one serious mistake in his calculations. He did not build upon the spirit of the South. Cornwallis began by trying to crush out that spirit, and soon brought about a reign of terror in South Carolina. He ordered that all who would not take up arms for the King should be seized and their property destroyed. Every man who had borne arms for the British and afterward joined the Americans was to be hanged as soon as taken. Houses were burned, estates ravaged, men put to death, women and children driven from their homes with no fit clothing, thousands confined in prisons and prison ships in which malignant fevers raged, the whole state rent and torn by a most cruel and merciless persecution. Such was the Lord Cornwallis' ideal of war. Near the middle of September, Cornwallis began his march northward, which was not to end, till the whole South lay prostrate under his hand. It was his aim to fill his ranks with the loyalists of North Carolina and sweep all before him. Major Patrick Ferguson, his ablest partisan leader, was sent with two hundred of the best British troops to the South Carolina uplands, and here he gathered in such tories as he could find, and with them a horde of wretches who cared only for the side that gave them the best chance to plunder and ravage. The Cherokee Indians were also bribed to attack the American settlers west of the mountains. But while Cornwallis was thus making his march of triumph, the American patriots were not at rest. Marion was flying about like a wasp with a very sharp sting. Sumter was back again, cutting off strays and foragers. Other parties of patriots were afoot and active. And in the new settlements west of the Alleghenies, the hard back woodsmen, who had been far out of the reach of war and its terrors, were growing eager to strike a blow for the country which they loved. Such was the state of affairs in the middle south in the month of September 1780. And it leads us to a tale of triumph in which the western woodsmen struck their blow for freedom, teaching the overconfident Cornwallis a lesson he sadly needed. It is the tale of how Ferguson, the Tory leader, met his fate at the hands of the mountaineers and hunters of Tennessee and the neighboring regions. After leaving Cornwallis, Ferguson met with a small party of North Carolina militia under Colonel McDowell, whom he defeated and pursued so sharply as to drive them into the mountain wilds. Here their only hope of safety lay in crossing the crags and ridges to the great forest land beyond. They found a refuge at last among the bold frontiersmen of the Watauga in Tennessee, many of whom were the regulators of North Carolina, the refugees from Governor Tryon's tyranny. The arrival of these fugitives stirred up the woodsmen as they had never been stirred up before. It brought the evils of the war for the first time to their doors. These poor fugitives had been driven from their homes and robbed of their all as the regulators had been in former years. Was it not the duty of the free men of Tennessee to restore them and strike one blow for the liberty of their native land? The bold westerners thought so and lost no time in putting their thoughts into effect. Men were quickly enlisted and regiments formed under Isaac Shelby and John Sevier, two of their leaders. An express was sent to William Campbell, who had under him four hundred of the back woodsmen of Southwest Virginia, asking him to join their ranks. On the twenty-fifth of September these three regiments of riflemen, with McDowell and his fugitives, met on the Watauga, each man on his own horse, armed with his own rifle and carrying his own provisions, and each bent on dealing a telling blow for the relief of their brethren in the east. True patriots were they, risking their all for the duty to their native land. Their families were left in secluded valleys, often at long distances apart, exposed to danger alike from the Tories and the Indians. Before them lay the highest peaks of the Alleghenies to be traversed only by way of lofty and difficult passes. No highway existed, there was not even a bridal path through the dense forest, and for forty miles between the Watauga and the Catawba there was not a single house or a cultivated acre. On the evening of the thirtieth the westerners were reinforced by Colonel Cleveland, with three hundred and fifty men from North Carolina who had been notified by them of their approach. Their foe was before them. After Ferguson had pursued McDowell to the foot of the mountains he shaped his course for King's Mountain, a natural stronghold, where he established his camp in what seemed a secure position, and sent to Cornwallis for a few hundred more men saying that these would finish the business. This is their last push in this quarter. Cornwallis had once dispatched Tarleton with a considerable reinforcement. He was destined to be too late. Ferguson did not know all the peril that threatened him. On the east Colonel James Williams was pursuing him up the Catawba with over four hundred horsemen. A vigilant leader he kept his scouts out on every side, and on October 2nd one of these brought him the most welcome of news. The back woodsmen were up, said the scout. Half of the people beyond the mountains were under arms and on the march. A few days later they met him, thirteen hundred strong. Not a day, not an hour was lost. Williams told them where their foes were encamped, and they resolved to march against them that very night and seek to take them by surprise. It was the evening of October 6th when the two forces joined. So prompt were they to act that at eight o'clock that same evening nine hundred of their best horsemen had been selected and were on the march. All night they rode with the moon to light them on their way. The next day they rode still onward, and in the afternoon reached the foot of King's Mountain on whose summit Ferguson lay encamped. This mountain lies just south of the North Carolina border at the end of a branching ridge from the main line of the Alleghenies. The British were posted on its summit over eleven hundred in number, a thousand of them being Tories, the others British regulars. They felt thoroughly secure in their elevated fortress, the approach up the mountainside being almost a precipice, the slaty rock cropping out into natural breastworks along its sides and on its heights, and so far as they knew no foe was within many miles. The Americans dismounted that craggy hill was impassable to the horsemen. Though less in number than their foes and with a steep mountain to climb, they did not hesitate. The gallant nine hundred were formed into four columns, Campbell's regiment on the right center and Shelby's on the left taking the post of greatest peril. Sevier, with a part of Cleveland's men, led the right wing, and Williams with the remainder of Cleveland's men the left, their orders being to pass the position of Ferguson to right and left and climb the ridge in his rear, while the center columns attacked him in front. So well was the surprise managed that the Westerners were within a quarter of a mile of the enemy before they were discovered. Climbing steadily upon their front, the two center columns quickly began the attack. Shelby, a hardy, resolute man, stiff as iron, brave among the bravest, led the way straight onward and upward with but one thought in his mind, to do that for which he had come. Ferguson Campbell with the British regulars, who sprang to their arms and charged his men with fixed bayonets, forcing the riflemen who had no bayonets to recoil. But they were soon rallied by their gallant leader and returned eagerly to the attack. For ten or fifteen minutes a fierce and bloody battle was kept up at this point, the sharpshooting woodsmen making havoc in the ranks of the foe. Then the right and left wings of the Americans closed in on the flank and rear of the British and encircled them with a hot fire. For nearly an hour the battle continued with a heavy fire on both sides. At length the right wing gained the summit of the cliff and poured such a deadly fire on the foe from their point of vantage that it was impossible to bear it. Ferguson had been killed, and his men began to retreat along the top of the ridge. But here they found themselves in the face of the American left wing, and their leaders seeing that the escape was impossible and resistance hopeless, displayed a white flag. At once the firing ceased, the enemy throwing down their arms and surrendering themselves prisoners of war. More than a third of the British force lay dead or badly wounded. The remainder were prisoners. Not more than twenty of the whole were massing. The total loss of the Americans was twenty-eight killed and sixty wounded. Colonel Williams, a man of great valor and discretion, being among the killed. The battle ended. A thirst for vengeance rose. Among the Tory prisoners were known house-burners and murderers. Among the victors were men who had seen their cruel work, had beheld women and children, homeless and hopeless, robbed and wronged, nestling about fires kindled in the ground where they mourned their slain fathers and husbands. Under such circumstances it is not strange that they seized and hanged nine or ten of the captives, desisting only when Campbell gave orders that this work should cease, and threatened with severe punishment all who engaged in it. The victory of the men of the back woods at Kings Mountain was like the former one of Washington at Trenton. It inspired with hope the despairing people and changed the whole aspect of the war. It filled the Tories of North Carolina with such wholesome dread that they no longer dared to join the foe or molest their patriot neighbors. The patriots of both the Carolinas were stirred to new zeal. The broken and dispirited fragments of Gates' army took courage again, and once more came together and organized, soon afterward, coming under the skilled command of General Green. Tarleton had reached the forks of the Catawba when news of Ferguson's signal defeat reached him, and caused him to return in all haste to join Cornwallis. The latter, utterly surprised to find an enemy falling on his flank from the far wilderness beyond the mountains, whence he had not dreamed of a foe, halted an alarm. He dared not leave an enemy like this in his rear, and found himself obliged to retreat, giving up his grand plan of sweeping the two Carolinas and Virginia into his victorious net. Such was the work done by the valiant men of the Watauga. They saved the South from loss, until Morgan and Green could come to finish the work they had so well begun. End of Chapter 17 Chapter 18 of Historical Tales, Volume 2, American 2 This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Historical Tales, Volume 2, American 2 by Charles Morris Chapter 18 General Green's famous retreat The rain was pouring pitilessly from the skies. The wind blew chill from the north. The country was soaked with the falling flood. Dark rain clouds swept across the heavens, and a dreary mist shut out all the distant view. In the midst of this cheerless scene, a solitary horseman stood on a lonely roadside, with his military cape drawn closely up, and his horses head drooping, as if the poor beast was utterly weary of the situation. In truth, they had kept watch and ward there for hours, and night was near at hand. The weary watchers still looking southward, with an anxiety that seemed fast growing into hopeless despondency. At times, as he waited, a faint, far-off booming sound was heard, which caused the lonely cavalier to lift his head and listen intently. It might have been the sound of a cannon. It might have been distant thunder. But whatever it was, his anxiety seemed steadily to increase. The day darkened into night, and hour by hour, night crept on until midnight came and passed. Yet the lone watcher waited still. His horse behind him, the gloom around him, the rain still splashing on the sodden road. It was a wearing vigil, and only a critical need could have kept him there through those slow and dreary hours of gloom. At length, he sharply lifted his head and listened more intently than before. It was not the dull and distant boom this time, but a nearer sound that grew momentarily more distinct. The thud, it seemed, of a horse's hoofs. In a few minutes more, a horseman rode into the narrow circle of view. Is that you, Sergeant? asked the watcher. Yes, sir, answered the other, with an instinctive military salute. What news? I have been waiting here for hours for the militia, and not a man has come. I trust there is nothing wrong. Everything is wrong, answered the newcomer. Davidson is dead and the militia are scattered to the winds. Cornwallis is over the Catawba and is in camp five miles this side of the river. You bring bad news, said the listener with a look of agitation. Davidson dead and his men dispersed. That is bad enough. And Morgan? I know nothing about him. Sad of heart, the questioner mounted his impatient steed and rode disconsolately away along the muddy road. He was no less a person than General Green, the newly appointed commander of the American forces in the south, and the tidings he had just heard had disarranged all his plans. With the militia, on whose aid he had depended scattered in flight, and no sign of others coming, his hope of facing Cornwallis in the field was gone, and he was a heavy hearted man, when he rode at length into the North Carolina town of Salisbury and dismounted at the door of Steel's Tavern, the House of Entertainment in that place. As he entered the reception room of the hotel, stiff and weary from his long vigil, he was met by Dr. Reed, a friend. What? Alone, General? exclaimed Reed. Yes. Tired, hungry, alone and penniless. The fate of the patriot cause in the south seemed to lie in those hopeless words. Mrs. Steel, the landlady, heard them, and made all haste to prepare a bountiful supper for her late guest, who sat seeking to dry himself before the blazing fire. As quickly as possible, a smoking hot supper was on the table before him, and as he sat enjoying it with a craving appetite, Mrs. Steel again entered the room. Closing the door carefully behind her, she advanced with the look of sympathy on her face and drew her hands from under her apron, each of them holding a small bag of silver coin. Take these, General, she said. You need them, and I can do without them. A look of hope beamed on Greene's face as he heard these words. With a spirit like this in the women of the country, he felt that no man should despair. Rising with a sudden impulse, he walked to where a portrait of George III hung over the fireplace, remaining from the old anti-war time. He turned the face of this to the wall and wrote these words on the back, hide thy face, George, and blush. It is said that this portrait was still hanging in the same place not many years ago, with Greene's writing yet legible upon it, and possibly it may be there still. As for Mrs. Steel, she had proved herself a patriot woman of the type of Mrs. Mott, who furnished Marion with arrows for the burning of her own house when it was occupied by a party of British soldiers whom he could not dislodge. And they too were far from alone in the list of patriot women in the South. The incident in General Greene's career above Given has become famous, and connected with it is the skillful military movement by which he restored the American cause in the South, which had been nearly lost by the disastrous defeat of General Gates. This celebrated example of strategy has often been described, but it is worth telling again. Lord Cornwallis, the most active of the British commanders in the War of American Independence, had brought South Carolina and Georgia under his control, and was marching north with the expectation of soon bringing North Carolina into subjection, and following up his success with the conquest of Virginia. This accomplished he would have the whole south subdued. But in some respects he reckoned without his host. He had now such men as Greene and Morgan in his front, Marion and Sumter in his rear. And his task was not likely to prove an easy one. As for Morgan, he sent the roughrider Tarleton to deal with him, fancying that the noted rifleman, who would one undying fame in the North, would now meet fate in the face and perhaps be captured with all his men. But Morgan had a word to say about that, as was proved on the 17th of January, 1781, when he met Tarleton at the Cowpans, a place about five miles south of the North Carolina line. Tarleton had the strongest and best appointed force, and Morgan, many of whose men were untried militia, seemed in imminent danger, especially when the men of the Maryland line began to retreat, and the British, thinking the day their own, pressed upon them with exultant shouts. But to their surprise, the bold Marylanders suddenly halted, turned, and greeted their pursuers with a destructive volley. At the same time, the Virginia rifleman, who had been posted on the wings, closed in on both flanks of the British, and poured a shower of bullets into their ranks. The British were stunned by this abrupt change in the situation, and when the Maryland line charged upon them with leveled bayonets, they broke and fled into Smang. Colonel Washington commanded the small cavalry force, so far held in reserve and unseen. This compact body of troopers now charged on the British cavalry, more than three times their numbers, and quickly put them to flight. Tarleton himself made a narrow escape, for he received a wound from Washington's sword in the hot pursuit. So utter was the route of the British that they were pursued for twenty miles and lost more than three hundred of their number in killed and wounded, and six hundred in prisoners, with many horses, wagons, muskets, and cannon. Tarleton's abundant baggage was burned by his own order to save it from capture. In this signal victory, Morgan lost only ten men killed and sixty wounded. And now began that famous retreat which was of more advantage to the Americans than a victory. Morgan, knowing well that Cornwallis would soon be after him to retrieve the disaster at the cow pens, hastened with his prisoners and spoils across the Catauba. Cornwallis, fiorious at his defeat and eager to move rapidly in pursuit, set fire to all his baggage and wagons, except those absolutely needed, thus turning his army into light troops at the expense of the greater part of its food supplies and munitions. But when he reached the Catauba, he found it so swollen with the rains that he was forced to halt on its banks while Morgan continued his march. Meanwhile, General Green was making earnest efforts to collect a force of militia, directing all those who came in to meet at a certain point. Such was the situation on the first of February, when Green waited for weary hours at the place fixed upon for the militia to assemble, only to learn that Cornwallis had forced the passage of the river dispersing the North Carolina militia, left to guard the ford, and killing General Davidson, their commander. He had certainly abundant reason for depression on that wet and dreary night when he rode alone into Salisbury. The Catauba crossed, the next stream of importance was the Yadkin. Hither Morgan marched in all haste, crossing the stream on the second and third of February, and at once securing all boats. The rains began to fall again before his men were fairly over, and soon the stream was swelling with the mountain floods. When Cornwallis reached its banks it was swollen high and running madly, and it was the seventh of February before he was able to cross. It seemed indeed as if Providence had come to the aid of the Americans, lowering the rains for them and raising them for their foes. Meanwhile, the two divisions of the American army were marching on converging lines, and on the ninth the forces under Green and Morgan made a junction at Guilford Courthouse, Cornwallis being then at Salem, twenty-five miles distant. A battle was fought at this place a month later, but just then the force under Green's command was too small to risk a fight. A defeat at that time might have proved fatal to the cause of the south. Nothing remained but to continue the retreat across the state to the border of Virginia, and there put the Dan River between him and his foe. To cover the route of his retreat from the enemy, Green detached General Williams with the flower of his troops to act as a light corps, watch and impede Cornwallis and strive to lead him toward Dix's Ferry on the Dan, while the crossing would be made twenty miles lower down. It was a terrible march which the Patriots made during the next four days. Without tents, with thin and ragged clothes, most of them without shoes, many hundreds of the soldiers tracking the ground with their bloody feet, they retreated at the rate of seventeen miles a day along barely passable roads, the wagon wheels sinking deep in the mud, and every creek swollen with the rains. In these four days of anxiety, Green slept barely four hours, watching every detail with a vigilant eye which nothing escaped. On the fourteenth they reached the ford, hurrying the wagons across and then the troops, and before nightfall Green was able to write that all his troops were over and the stage was clear. General Williams had aided him ably in this critical march, keeping just beyond reach of Cornwallis and deceiving him for a day or two as to the intention of the Americans. When the British general discovered how he had been deceived, he got rid of more of his baggage by the easy method of fire and chased Williams across the state at the speed of thirty miles a day. But the alert Americans marched forty miles a day and reached the fords of the Dan just as the last of Green's men had crossed. That night the rear guard crossed the stream and when Cornwallis reached its banks on the morning of the fifteenth to his deep chagrin he found all the Americans safe on the Virginia side and ready to contest the crossing if he should seek to continue the pursuit. That famous march of two hundred miles from the south side of the Catauba to the north side of the Dan, in which the whole state of North Carolina was crossed by the ragged and largely shoeless army, was the salvation of the southern states. In Green's camp there was only joy and congratulation. Little did the soldiers heed their tattered garments, their shoeless feet, their lack of blankets and of regular food, in their pride at having outwitted the British army and fulfilled their duty to their country. With renewed courage they were ready to cross the Dan again and attack Cornwallis and his men. Washington wrote to General Green, applauding him highly for his skillful feet, and even a British historian gave him great praise and credit for his skill and strategy. Shall we tell in a few words the outcome of this fine feet? Cornwallis had been drawn so far from his base of supplies and had burned so much of his warm material that he found himself in an ugly quandary. On his return march Green became the pursuer, harassing him at every step. When Guilford Courthouse was reached again, Green felt strong enough to fight, and though Cornwallis held the field at the end of the battle, he was left in such a sorry plight that he was forced to retreat to Wilmington and leave South Carolina uncovered. Here it did not take Green long, with the aid of such valiant partisans as Marion, Sumter, and Lee, to shut the British up in Charleston and win back the state. Cornwallis, on the other hand, concluded to try his fortune in Virginia, where there seemed to be a fine chance for fighting and conquest. But he was not long there before he found himself shut up in Yorktown like a rat in a trap, with Washington and his forces in front and the French fleet in the rear. His surrender, soon after, not only freed the South from its foes, but cured George III of any further desire to put down the rebels in America. CHAPTER XIX. ELI WITNEY, THE INVENTOR OF THE COTTON GYN. IN THE HARVEST SEASON OF THE COTTON STATES OF THE SOUTH. A VAST, FLEECEY SNOWFALL SEEMS TO HAVE COME DOWN IN THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT AND COVERED ACARS INNUMERABLE WITH ITS VIRGIN EMBLUM OF PLENTY AND PROSPERITY. IT IS THE REGLE FIBER WHICH IS SET TO MILLIONS OF LUMES IN BUSY WORL AND TO CLOTH WHEN DULY SPUN AND WOVEN HALF THE POPULATION OF THE EARTH. THAT COTTON IS KING HAS LONG BEEN HELD AS A POTENT POLITICAL ACSIUM IN THE UNITED STATES, YET THERE WAS A TIME WHEN COTTON WAS NOT KING, BUT WAS AN INSIGNIFICANT MEMBER OF THE AGRICULTURAL COMMUNITY. HOW COTTON CAME TO THE THRONE IS THE SUBJECT OF OUR PRESENT SKETCH. IN THOSE FAR-OFF DAYS WHEN KING GEORGIA OF INGLAND WAS TRYING TO FORCE THE REBELLIOUS AMERICANS TO BUY AND DRINK HIS TEA AND PAY FOR HIS STAMPS, THE PEOPLE OF GEORGIA AND SOUTH CAROLINA WERE FIRST BEGINNING TO TRY IF THEY COULD DO SOMETHING IN THE WAY OF RAISING COTTON. AFTER THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE WAS OVER, AN AMERICAN MERCHANT IN LIVERPOOL RECEIVED FROM THE SOUTH A SMALL CONSIGNMENT OF EIGHT BAGS OF COTTON, HOLDING ABOUT twelve hundred pounds, THE FEWELL PIONEER OF THE GREAT COTTON COMMERCE. WHEN IT WAS LANDED ON THE WARVES IN LIVERPOOL IN 1784, THE CUSTOM HOUSE OFFICIALS OF THAT PLACE LOOKED AT IT WITH ALARM AND SUSPICION. WHAT WAS THIS WHITE-FACED STRANGER DOING HERE CLAIMING TO COME FROM A LAND THAT HAD NEVER SEEN A COTTON PLANT? IT MUST HAVE COME FROM SOMEWHERE ELSE, AND THIS WAS ONLY A DEEP LADE PLOT TO GET ITSELF LANDED ON INGLISH SOIL WITHOUT PAYING AN ENTRANCE FEE. SO THE STRANGER WAS SEASED AND LOCKED UP, AND MR. RATHBONE, THE MERCHANT, HAD NO EASY TIME IN PROVING TO THE OFFICIALS THAT IT WAS REALLY A SCION OF THE AMERICAN SOIL, AND THAT THE SHIPS THAT BROUGHT IT HAD THE RIGHT TO DO SO. BUT AFTER IT WAS RELEASED FROM CONFINEMENT THERE WAS STILL A DIFFICULTY. NOBODY WOULD BUY IT. THE MANUFACTURERS WERE AFRAID TO HANDLE THIS NEW AND UNNOWN KIND OF COTTON FOR FEAR IT WOULD NOT PAY TO WORK IT UP, AND AT LAST IT HAD TO BE SOLD FOR A SONG TO GET A TRIAL. SUCH WAS THE STATE OF THE AMERICAN INDUSTRY AT THE PERIOD WHEN THE GREAT REPUBLIC WAS JUST BORN. IT MAY BE SAID THAT THE NATION AND IT'S GREATEST PRODUCT WERE BORN TOGETHER LIKE TWIN CHILDREN. THE NEW INDUSTRY GREW VERY SLOWLY, AND THE PLANTERS WHO WERE TRYING TO RAISE COTTON IN THEIR FIELDS FELT MUCH LIKE GIVING IT UP AS SOMETHING THAT WOULD NEVER PAY. IN FACT THERE WAS A GREAT DIFFICULTY IN THE WAY THAT GAVE THEM NO END OF TROUBLE, AND MADE THE COST OF COTTON SO GREAT THAT THERE WAS VERY LITTLE ROOM FOR PROPHET. FOR A TIME IT LOOKED AS IF THEY WOULD HAVE TO GO BACK TO CORN AND RICE, AND LET COTTON GO BY THE BOARD. THE TROUBLE LAY, IN THE FACT THAT IN THE MIDST OF EACH LITTLE HEAD OF COTTON FIBERS LIKE A YOUNG BIRD IN ITS NEST, LAY A NUMBER OF SEEDS, TO WHICH THE FIBERS WERE CLOSELY ATTACHED. These seeds had to be got out, and this was very slow work. It had to be done by hand, and in each plantation's storehouse, a group of old Negroes might be seen, diligently at work in pulling the seeds out from the fibers. Work as hard as they could, it was not easy to clean more than a pound a day, so that by the time the crop was ready for market, it had cost so much that the planter had to be content with the very small rate of profit. Thatch was the state of the cotton industry as late as 1792, when the total product was one hundred and thirty-eight thousand pounds. In 1795, it had jumped to six million pounds, and in 1801, to twenty million pounds. This was a wonderful change, and it may well be asked how it was brought about. This question brings us to our story which we have next to tell. In the year 1792, a bright young Yankee came down to Georgia to begin his career by teaching in a private family. He was one of the kind who are born with a great turn for tinkering. When he was a boy he mended the fiddles of all the people round about, and after that took to making nails, canes, and hatpins. He was so handy that the people said there was nothing Eli Whitney could not do. But he seems to have become tired of tinkering, for he went to college after he had grown to manhood, and from college he went to Georgia to teach. But there he found himself too late, for another teacher had the place which he expected to get, so there he was, stranded far from home, with nothing to do and with little money in his purse. By good fortune he found an excellent friend. Mrs. Green, the widow of the famous General Green of the Revolution, lived near Savannah and took quite a fancy to the poor young man. She urged him to stay in Georgia and to keep up his studies, saying that he could have a home in her house as long as he pleased. This example of southern hospitality was very grateful to the friendless young man, and he accepted the kindly invitation, trying to pay his way by teaching Mrs. Green's children and at the same time studying law. But he was born for an inventor, not a lawyer, and could not keep his fingers off of things. Nothing broke down about Mrs. Green's house that he did not soon set working all right again. He fitted up embroidery frames for her and made other things, showing himself so very handy that she fancied he could do anything. One day Mrs. Green heard some of the neighbouring planters complaining of the trouble they had in clearing the cotton of its seeds. They could manage what was called the long staple cotton by the use of a rough roller machine brought from England, which crushed the seeds and then bowed or whipped the dirt out of the lint. But this would not work with short staple cotton, the kind usually grown, and there was nothing to do but to pick the hard seeds out by hand at the rate of a pound a day by the fastest workers. The planters said it would be a splendid thing if they only had a machine that would do this work. Mrs. Green told them that this might not be so hard to do. There was a young man at my house, she said, who can make anything, and to prove it she showed them some of the things he had made. Then she introduced them to Eli Whitney, and they asked him if he thought he could make a machine to do the work they so badly wanted. I don't know about that, he replied. I know no more about cotton than a child knows about the moon. You can easily learn all there is to know about it, they urged. We would be glad to show you our fields and our picker-houses and give you all the chance you need to study the subject. Mr. Whitney made other objections. He was interested in his law studies and did not wish to break them off, but a chance to work at machinery was too great an attraction for him to withstand, and at length he consented to look over the matter and see if he could do anything with it. The young inventor lost no time. This was something much more to his liking than pouring over the dry books of the law, and he went to work with enthusiasm. He went into the fields and studied the growing cotton. Then he watched the seed pickers at their work. Seeing specimens of the ripe cotton ball to his room, he studied the seeds as they lay cradled in the fiber and saw how they were fastened to it. To get them out, there must be some way of dragging them apart, pulling the fibers from the seed and keeping them separate. The inventor studied and thought and dreamed, and in a very short time his quick genius saw how the work could be done. And he no sooner saw it than he set to work to do it. The idea of the cotton gin was fully formed in his mind before he had lifted his hand towards making one. It was not easy, in fact. It is often a long road between an inventor's first idea and a machine that will do all he wants it to, and he had nothing to work with but had to make his own tools and manufacture his own wire and work upward from the very bottom of things. In a few months, however, he had a model ready. Mrs. Green was so interested in his work and so proud of his success that she induced him to show the model and explain its working to some of her planter friends, especially those who had induced him to engage in the work. When they saw what he had done and were convinced of the truth of what he told them, that they could clean more cotton in a day by his machine than in many months by the old hand-picking way, their excitement was great, and the report of the wonderful invention spread far and wide. Shall we say here what this machine was like? The principle was simple enough, and from that day to this, though the machine has been greatly improved, Whitney's first idea still holds good. It was a saw-gyn then, and it is a saw-gyn still. Jyn, we may say here, is short for engine. This is the plan. There is a grid or row of wires set upright and so close together that the seeds will not go through the openings. Behind these is a set of circular saws, so placed that their teeth pass through the openings between the wires. When the machine is set in motion, the cotton is put into a hopper, which feeds it to the grid, and the revolving saws catch the fiber or lint with their teeth and drag it through the wires. The seeds are too large to follow, so the cotton is torn loose from them and they slide down and out of the way. As the wheel turns round with its teeth full of cotton lint, a revolving brush sweeps it away so that the teeth are cleaned and ready to take up more lint. A simple principle, you may say, but it took a good head to think it out, and to it we owe the famous cotton industry of the south. But poor Whitney did not get the good from his invention that he deserved, for a terrible misfortune happened to him. Many people came to see the invention, but he kept the workshop locked, for he did not want strangers to see it till he had it finished and his patent granted. The end was that one night some thieves broke into the shop and stole the model, and there were some machines made and in operation before the poor inventor could make another model and secure his patent. This is only one of the instances in which an inventor has been robbed of the work of his brain, and others have grown rich by it while he has had trouble to make a living. A Mr. Miller, who afterward married Mrs. Green, went into partnership with Whitney and supplied him with funds, and he got out of patent in 1794. But the demand for the machines was so great that he could not begin to supply them, and the pirated machines, though they were much inferior to his perfected ones, were eagerly bought. Then his shop burned with all its contents, and that made him a bankrupt. For years after that Whitney sought to obtain justice. In some of the states he was fairly treated, and in others he was not, and in 1812 Congress refused to renew the patent, and the field was thrown open for everybody to make the machines. Only all he ever got for his inventions was fifty thousand dollars paid him by the legislature of South Carolina. In later years Whitney began to make firearms for the government, and he was so successful in this that he grew rich, while he greatly improved the machinery and the methods. It was he who first began to make each part separately so it would fit in any gun, a system now used in all branches of manufacture. As for the cotton industry to which Eli Whitney gave the first great start, it will suffice to say that its project has grown from less than one thousand bales when he began his work to over ten million bales a year. CHAPTER XXXX how old Hickory fought the creeks. Shall we seek to picture to our readers a scene in the streets of Nashville, Tennessee, less than a century ago, though it seems to belong to the days of barbarism? Two groups of men, made up of the most respectable citizens of the place, stood furiously shooting at each other with pistols and guns, as if this was their idea of after-dinner recreation. Their leaders were Colonel Thomas Benton II, afterward famous in the United States Senate, and General Andrew Jackson, famous in a dozen waves. The men of the frontier in those days were hot in temper and quick in action, and family feuds led quickly to wounds and death, as they still do in the mountains of East Tennessee. Some trifling quarrel that may perhaps have been settled by five minutes of common-sense arbitration led to this fierce fray, in the midst of which Jesse Benton, brother of the Colonel, fired at Jackson with a huge pistol loaded to the muzzle with bullets and slugs. It was like a charge of grapeshot. A slug from it shattered Jackson's left shoulder, a ball sank to the bone in his left arm, and another splintered a board by his aid. When the fight ended Jackson was found insensible in the entry of a tavern, with the blood pouring profusely from his wounds. He was carried in, and all the doctors of the town were summoned, but before the bleeding could be stopped two mattresses were soaked through with blood. The doctors said the arm was so badly injured that it must be taken off at once, but when Old Hickory set his lips in his grim way and said, I'll keep my arm, the question was settled, no one dare touch that arm. For weeks afterward Jackson lay a helpless invalid, while his terrible wounds slowly healed, and while he lay there a dreadful event took place in the territory to the south, which called for the presence of men like Old Hickory, sound of limb and in full strength. This was the frightful Indian massacre at Fort Mims, one of the worst in all our history. It was now the autumn of the year 1813, the second year of the war with England. Tecumseh, the famous Indian warrior and orator, had stirred up the savages of the south to take the British side in the war, and for fear of an Indian rising the settlers around Fort Mims in Southern Alabama had crowded into the fort, which was only a rude log stockade. On the morning of August 30th more than 550 souls, one hundred of them being women and children, were crowded within that contracted space. On the evening of that day four hundred of them, including all the women and children, lay bleeding on the ground, scalped and shockingly mangled. A thousand Creek Indians had broken into the carelessly guarded fort and perpetrated one of the most horrid massacres in the history of Indian wars. Weathersford, the leader of the Indians, tried to stop the ferocious warriors in their dreadful work, but they surrounded him and threatened him with their tomahawks while they glutted to the full their thirst for blood. Many days passed before the news of this frightful affair in the southern wilderness reached Nashville. The excitement it created was intense. The savages were in arms and had tasted blood. The settlements everywhere were in peril. The country might be ravaged from the Ohio to the Gulf. It was agreed by all that there was only one thing to do. The Indians must be put down. But the man best fitted to do it, the man who was depended upon in every emergency, lay half dead in his room, slowly recovering from his dreadful wound. A year before, Jackson had led two thousand men to Natchez to defend New Orleans in case the British should come, and had been made by the government a major general of volunteers. He was the man everyone wanted now, but to get him seemed impossible, and the best that could be done was to get his advice. So a committee was appointed to visit and confer with the wounded hero. When the members of the committee called on the warhorse of the West, they found him still within the shadow of death, his wounds sore and festering, his frame so weak that he could barely raise his head from the pillow. But when they told him of the massacre and the revengeful feeling of the people, the news almost lifted him from his bed. It seemed to send new life coursing through his veins. His voice, though weakened by illness, yet with its old ring of decision, was raised for quick and stern action against the savage foes who had so long menaced Tennessee. And if they wanted a leader, he was the man. When the committee reported the next day, they said there was no doubt that our brave and patriotic General Jackson would be ready to lead the men of war by the time they were ready to march. Where Jackson led, there would be plenty to follow. Four thousand men were called out, with orders to assemble at Fayetteville, eighty miles south of Nashville, on October 4th, just one month from the day when Jackson had received his wounds. From his bed he took command. By his orders, Colonel Coffey rode to Huntsville, Alabama with five hundred men. As he advanced, volunteers came riding in armed and equipped till he was at the head of thirteen hundred men. On the seventh of October, Jackson himself reached the rendezvous. He was still a mere wreck, thin as a shadow, tottering with weakness and needing to be lifted bodily to his horse. His arm was closely bound and in a sling. His wounds were so sensitive that the least jar or wrench gave him agony. His stomach was in such a state that he was in danger of dying from starvation. Several times during his first two days' ride he had to be sponged from head to foot with whiskey. Yet his dauntless spirit kept him up, and he bore the dreadful ride of eighty miles with a fortitude rarely equaled. So resolute was he that he reached Fayetteville before half the men had gathered. He was glad there to receive news that the creeks were advancing northward towards Tennessee. Give them my thanks for saving me the pain of traveling, he said. I must not be outdone in politeness, and will try to meet them half way. On the eleventh a new advance was made to Huntsville. The troops riding six miles an hour for five hours, a remarkable feat for a man in Jackson's condition. Many a twinge of bitter pain he had on that march, but his spirit was past yielding. At this point Colonel Coffey was joined, and the troops encamped on a bend of the Tennessee River. A false alarm of the advance of the Indians had caused this hasty march. Jackson and his men, twenty-five hundred in number, with thirteen hundred horses, now found themselves threatened by a foe more terrible than the Indians they had come to meet. They were in the heart of the wilderness of Alabama, far away from any full supply of food. Jackson thus described this foe in a letter written by his secretary, There is an enemy whom I dread much more than I do the hostile creeks. I mean the meagre monster famine. I shall leave this encampment in the morning direct for the ten islands, and yet I have not on hand two days supply of bread stuffs. A thousand barrels of flour and a proportionate supply of meat had been purchased for him a week before, but the Tennessee River was low, the flat boats would not float, and the much needed food lay in the shallows three hundred miles upstream. There was nothing to do but to live on the country, and this Colonel Coffey had swept almost clear of provisions on his advance movement. Under such circumstances Jackson ran a great risk in marching farther into the Indian country. Yet the exigency was one in which boldness seemed necessary. A reverse movement might have brought the Indians in force on the settlers of Tennessee with sanguinary results. Keeping his foragers busy in search of food, he moved steadily southward till the Coosa River was reached. Here came the first encounter with the savages. There was a large body of them at Tallis Hatches, thirteen miles away. At daybreak on the morning after the Coosa was reached, the Indian camp was encircled by Colonel Coffey with a thousand men. The savages, taken by surprise, fought fiercely and desperately, and fell where they stood, fighting while a warrior remained alive. All the prisoners were women and children, who were taken to the settlements and kindly treated. Jackson himself brought up one of the boys in his own family. Four days afterward news came that a body of friendly creeks, one hundred and fifty in number, were at Talladega thirty miles away, surrounded by a thousand hostile Indians cut off from their water supply and an imminent danger of annihilation. A wily chief had dressed himself in the skin of a large hog, and in this disguise passed unsuspected through the hostile lines, bringing his story to Jackson twenty-four hours later. At that moment the little army had only one day's supply of food, but its general did not hesitate. Advancing with all the men fit to move, they came within hearing of the yelling enemy and quickly closed in upon them. When that brief battle ended, two hundred of the Indian braves lay dead on the field, and Colonel Coffey with his horsemen was in hot pursuit of the remainder. As for the rescued Indians, their joy was beyond measure, for they had looked only for death. They gathered around their preserver expressing their gratitude by joyful cries and gestures, and gladly gave what little corn they had left to feed the hungry soldiers. The loss of the whites in this raid was fifteen men killed and eighty-six wounded. The badly wounded were carried in litters back to Fort Strother, where the sick had been left, and where Jackson now fully expected to find a full supply of food. To his acute disappointment not an ounce had arrived, still in the shape of food being left but a few half-starved cattle. For several days Jackson and his staff ate nothing but tripe without seasoning. And now for ten long weeks came that dread contest he had feared, the battle with famine. With a good supply of provisions he could have ended the war in a fortnight. As it was, the men had simply to wait and forage, being at times almost in a starving state. The brave borderers found it far harder to sit and starve than it would have been to fight, and discontent in the camp rose to the height of mutiny, which it took all the generals tact and firmness to overcome. Part of his men were militia, part of them volunteers, and between these there was a degree of jealousy. On one occasion the militia resolved to start for home, but when they set out in the early morning they found the volunteers drawn up across the road with their grim general at their head. When they saw Jackson they turned and marched back to their quarters again. Soon afterward the volunteers were infected with the same fancy, but again Jackson was aware of their purpose and when they marched from their quarters they found their way blocked by militia with Jackson at their head. The tables had been turned on them. As time went on and hunger grew more relentless the spirit of discontent infected the entire force and it took all the generals power to keep them in the camp. On one occasion a large body of the men seized their arms and swearing that they would not stay there to be starved got ready to march home. General Jackson, hot with wrath, seized a musket and planting himself before them swore by the eternal that he would shoot the first man that set a foot forward. His countenance was appalling in its concentrated rage, his eyes blazed with a terrible fire, and the mutineers confronted by this apparition of fury, hesitated, drew back and retired to their tents. But the time came at length in which nothing would hold them back. Men and threats were alike useless. The general used entreaties and promises saying, I have advices that supply wagons are on the way and that there is a large drove of cattle near at hand. Wait two days more and if then they do not come we will all march home together. The two days passed and the food did not arrive. Much against his will he was obliged to keep his word. If only two men will stay with me, he cried, I will never give up the post. One hundred and nine men agreed to remain, and leaving these in charge of the fort, Jackson set out at the head of the others with their promise that when they procured supplies and satisfied their hunger they would return to the fort and march upon the foe. The next day the expected provision train was met and the hungry men were well fed. But home was in their minds and it took all the general's indomitable will and fierce energy to induce them to turn back, and they did so in sullen discontent. To the end it was necessary to exchange these men for fresh volunteers. When the dissatisfied men got home they told such doleful tales of their hardships and sufferings that the people were filled with dismay. Volunteering came to an end and even the governor wrote to Jackson advising him to give up the expedition as hopeless and return home. Had not Andrew Jackson been one man in a million he would not have hesitated to obey. A well man might justly have disbared, but to a physical wreck his shoulder still painful, his left arm useless, suffering from insufficient food, from acute dyspepsia, from chronic diarrhea, from cramps of terrible severity, to a man in this condition who should have been in bed under a physician's care, to remain seemed utter madness, and yet he remained. His indomitable spirit triumphed over his enfeebled body. He had set out to subdue the hostile Indians and save the settlements from their murderous raids, and by the eternal he would. He wrote a letter to Governor Blunt, eloquent, logical, appealing, resolute, and so convincing in its arguments that the governor changed his sentiment. The people became enthusiastic, volunteers came forward freely, and the most earnest exertions were made to collect and forward supplies. But this was not till the spring of 1814 and the lack of supplies continued the winter through. Only nine hundred discontented troops remained, but with these he won two victories over the Indians, in one of which an utter panic was averted only by his courage and decision in the hour of peril. At length fresh troops began to arrive. A regiment of United States soldiers, six hundred strong, reached him on February 6. By the first of March there were six thousand troops near Fort Strother, and only the arrival of a good food supply was awaited to make a finishing move. Food came slowly despite all exertions. Over the myery roads the wagon teams could hardly be moved with light loads. Only absolutely necessary food was brought, even whiskey, considered indispensable in those days, being barred out. All sick and disabled men were sent home, and the non-combatants weeded out so thoroughly that only one man was left in camp who could beat the ordinary calls on the drum. At length about the middle of March a sufficient supply of food was at hand and the final advance began. Meanwhile the hostile creeks had made themselves a stronghold at a place fifty-five miles to the south. Here was a bend of Talapusa River, called from its shape to Hopika, or Horseshoe. It was a well-wooded area, about one hundred acres in extent. Across whose neck the Indians had built a strong breastwork of logs, with two rows of portholes. The hole so well constructed that it was evident they had been aided by British soldiers in its erection. At the bottom of the bend was a village of wigwams, and there were many canoes in the stream. Within this stronghold was gathered the fighting force of the tribe, nearly a thousand warriors, and in the wigwams were about three-hundred women and children. It was evident that they intended to make here their final, desperate stand. The force led against them was two thousand strong. Their route of travel lay through the unbroken forest wilds, and it took eleven days to reach the Indian Fort. A glance at it showed Jackson the weakness of the savage engineering. As he said, they had penned themselves in for destruction. The work began by sending Colonel Coffey across the river, with orders to post his men opposite the line of canoes and prevent the Indians from escaping. Coffey did more than this. He sent swimmers over who cut loose the canoes and brought them across the stream. With their aid he sent troops over the bend to attack the savages in the rear while Jackson assailed them in the front. The battle began with a fierce assault, but soon settled down to a slow slaughter, which lasted for five or six hours. The fierce warriors, as in the former battles, refusing to ask for quarter or to accept their lives. Their prophets had told them that if they did, they would be put to death by torture. When the battle ended, few of them were left alive. On the side of the whites only fifty-five were killed and about three times as many wounded. This signal defeat ended forever the power of the Creek Nation, once the leading Indian power of the Gulf region. Such of the chiefs as survived surrendered. Among them was Wethersford, their valiant half-breed leader. Mounted on his well-known gray horse, famed for its speed and endurance, he rode to the door of Jackson's tent. The old soldier looked up to see before him this famous warrior, tall, erect, majestic, and dignified. I am Wethersford, he said. Late your enemy? No, your captive. From without the tent came fierce cries of, kill him, kill him! You may kill me if you wish, said the proud chief. But I came to tell you that our women and children are starving in the woods. They never did you any harm, and I came to beg you to send them food. Jackson looked sternly at the angry throng outside and said in his vigorous way, any man who would kill as brave a man as this would rob the dead. He then invited the chief into his tent, where he promised him the aid he asked for and freedom for himself. I do not war with women and children, he said. So Corn was sent to the suffering women, and Wethersford was allowed to mount his good gray steed and ride away as he had come. He induced the remaining creaks to accept the terms offered by the victorious general, these being peace and protection, with the provision that half their lands should be ceded to the United States. As may well be imagined, a triumphant reception was given Jackson and his men on their return to Nashville. Shortly afterward came the news that he had been appointed Major General in the Army of the United States to succeed William Henry Harrison resigned. He had made his mark well against the Indians, he was soon to make it as well against the British at New Orleans. CHAPTER XXI CHAPTER XXI On the coast of Louisiana, westward from the delta of the Mississippi, there lies a strange country in which sea and land seemed struggling for dominion, neither being victor in the endless contest. It is a low, flat, moist land where countless watercourses intertwine into a complex network, while nearer the sea are a multitude of bays stretching far inland and largely shut off from the salt sea waves by barriers of long, narrow islands. Some of these islands are low stretches of white sand flung up by the restless waters which ever washed to and fro. Others are of rich earth brought down by lazy waterways from the fertile north and deposited at the river outlets. Tall marsh grasses grow profusely here and hide alike water and land. Everywhere are slow-moving, half-sleeping bayous, winding and twisting interminably and encircling multitudes of islands which lie hidden behind a dense growth of rushes and reeds twelve feet high. It was through this region, neither water nor land, that the hapless Evangeline, the heroine of Longfellow's famous poem was rode, seeking her lover in these flooded wilds and not dreaming that he lay behind one of those reedy barons almost within touch, yet as unseen as if leagues of land separated them. One of the bays of this liquid coast, some sixty miles south of New Orleans, is a large sheet of water with a narrow island partly shutting it off from the gulf. This is known as Grande Terre, and west of it is another island known as Grande Eau. Between these two long land gates is a broad, deep channel which serves as entrance to the bay. On the western side lies a host of smaller islands, the passes between them made by the bayous which straggled down through the land. Northward the bay stretches sixteen miles inland and then breaks up into a medley of bayous and small lakes cutting far into the land and yielding an easy passage to the level of the Mississippi opposite New Orleans. Such is Barataria Bay, once the famous haunt of the Buccaneers. It seems made by nature as a lurking place for smugglers and pirates, and that is the purpose to which it was long devoted. The passage's inland served admirably for the disposal of ill-gotten goods. For years the pirates of Barataria Bay defied the authorities, making the gulf the scene of their exploits and finding a secret and ready market for their wares in New Orleans. The pirate leaders were two daring Frenchmen, Pierre and Jean Lafitte, who came from Bordeaux some time after 1800 and settled in New Orleans. They were educated men who had seen much of the world and spoke several languages fluently. Pierre, having served in the French army, became a skilled fencing master. Jean set up a blacksmith's shop, his slaves, doing the work. Such was the creditable way in which these worthies began their New World career. Their occupation changed in 1808, in which year the slave trade was brought to an end by act of Congress. There was also passed an embargo act which forbade trade with foreign countries. It was a double opportunity for men who placed gain above law. The Lafitte's at once took advantage of it, smuggling Negroes and British goods, bringing their illicit wares inland by way of the bayous of the coastal plain and readily disposing of them as honest goods. Not long after this time the British cruisers broke up the pirate hordes which had long infested the West Indies. Their haunts were taken and they had to flee. Some of them became smugglers landing their goods on Melia Island on the coast of Florida. Others sought the bays of Louisiana where they kept up their old trade. The Lafitte's now found it to their advantage to handle the goods of these buccaneers in which they posed as honest merchants. Later on they made piracy their trade, the whole fleet of the rovers coming under their control. Throwing off the cloak of honesty they openly defied the laws. Prize goods and Negroes were introduced into New Orleans with little effort at secrecy and were sold in disregard of the law and the customs. It was well known that the Baratarian rovers were pirates but the weak efforts to dislodge them failed and the government was openly despised. Making Barataria Bay their headquarters at harbor of refuge the pirates fortified grand tear and built on it their dwellings and storehouses. On grand deal farms were cultivated and orange groves planted. On another island named the Temple they held auctions for the sale of their plunder, the purchasers smuggling it up the bayous and introducing it under cover of night into New Orleans where there was nothing to show its source though suspicion was rife. Such was Barataria until the war with England began and such it continued through this war till 1814 the Lafitte's and their pirate followers flourishing in their desperate trade. We might go on to tell a gruesome story of fearful deeds by these bandits of the sea, of vessels plundered and scuttled and sailors made to walk the plank of death, a rich spoil won by ruthless murder and wild orgies on the shores of grand tear. But of all this there is little record and the lives of these pirates yield us none of the scenes of picturesque wickedness and wholesale murder which embellish the stories of Blackbeard, Morgan and other sea rovers of old. Yet the career of the Lafitte's has an historical interest which makes it worth the telling. It was not until 1814 during the height of the war with England that the easygoing creoles of New Orleans grew indignant enough at the bold defiance of law by the Lafitte's to make a vigorous effort to stop it. It was high time for the buccaneers had grown so bold as to fire on the revenue officers of the government. Determined to bear this disgrace no longer Pierre Lafitte was seized in the streets of New Orleans and with one of his captains named Dominique Nguyen was locked up in the Calabusa. This step was followed by a proclamation from Governor Claiborne offering five hundred dollars for the arrest of Jean Lafitte, the acting pirate chief. Lafitte insolently retorted by offering five thousand dollars for the head of the governor. This impudent defiance aroused Claiborne to more decisive action. A force of militia was called out and sent to England to Barataria with orders to capture and destroy the settlement of the buccaneers and seize all the pirates they could lay hands on. The governor did not know the men with whom he had to deal. Their spies kept them fully informed of all his movements. Southward trudged the citizen soldiers tracking their oozy way through the water-soaked land. All was silent and seemingly deserted. They were near their goal and not a man had been seen. But suddenly a boatsman's whistle sounded and a dozen secret passages armed men swarmed out upon them and in a few minutes had them surrounded and under their guns. Resistance was hopeless and they were obliged to surrender at discretion. The grim pirates stood ready to slaughter them all if a hand were raised in self-defense and Lafitte, stepping forward, invited them to join his men promising them an easy life and excellent pay. Their captain sturdily refused. Very well said Lafitte with disdainful generosity. You can go or stay as you please. Yonder is the road you came by. You are free to follow it back, but if you are wise you will in future keep out of reach of the jolly rovers of the gulf. We are not sure if these were Lafitte's exact words, but at any rate the captain and his men were set free and trudged back again, glad enough to get off with whole skins. Soon after that the war which had lingered so long in the north showed signs of making its way to the south. A British fleet appeared in the gulf in the early autumn of 1814 and made an attack on Mobile. In September a war vessel from this fleet appeared off Barataria Bay, fired on one of the pirate craft, and dropped anchor some six miles out. Soon a pinnace bearing a white flag put off from its side and was rode shoreward. It was met by a vessel which had put off from grand tear. I am Captain Lockere of the Sophia, said the British officer. I wish to see Captain Lafitte. I am he, came a voice from the pirate bark. Then this is for you, and Captain Lockere handed Lafitte a bulky package. Will you come ashore while I examine this, asked Lafitte courteously, I offer you such humble entertainment as we poor mariners can afford. I shall be glad to be your guest, answered the officer. Lafitte now led the way ashore, welcomed the visitors to his island domain, and proceeded to open and examine the package brought him. It contained four documents, their general purport, being to threaten the pirates with utter destruction if they continued to prey on the commerce of England and Spain, and to offer Lafitte if he would aid the British cause, the rank of captain in the service of Great Britain with a large sum of money and full protection for person and property. The letters read, Lafitte left the room saying that he wished time to consider before he could answer, but hardly had he gone when some of his men rushed in, seized Captain Lockere and his men and locked them up as prisoners. They were held captive all night, doubtless in deep anxiety, for pirates are scarcely safe hosts. But in the morning Lafitte appeared with profuse apologies declaring loudly that his men had acted without his knowledge or consent, and leading the way to their boat. Lockere was likely glad enough to find himself on the gulf waters again, despite the pirates' excuses. Two hours later Lafitte sent him word that he would accept his offer, but that he must have two weeks to get his affairs in order. With this answer, the Sophia lifted anchor, spread sails, and glided away. All this was a bit of diplomatic by-play on the part of Jean Lafitte. He had no notion of joining the British cause. The Sophia had not long disappeared when he sent the papers to New Orleans, asking only one favour in return, the release of his brother Pierre. This the authorities seemed to have granted in their own way, for in the next morning's papers was an offer of $1,000 reward for the capture of Pierre Lafitte, who had, probably with their connivants, broken jail during the night. Jean Lafitte now offered Governor Claiborne his services in the war with the British. He was no pirate, he said. That was a base libel. His ships were legitimate privateers and were struck from Venezuela in the war of that country with Spain. He was ready and anxious to transfer his allegiance to the United States. His sudden change of tone had its sufficient reason. It is probable that Lafitte was well aware of a serious danger just then in pending, far more threatening than the militia raid which had been so easily defeated. A naval expedition was ready to set out against him. It consisted of three barges of troops These were joined at the Belize by six gun-boats and a schooner and proceeded against the peratical stronghold. On the 16th of September the small fleet came within sight of ground-tear, drew up in line of battle and started for the entrance to Barataria Bay. Within this the pirate fleet ten vessels in all was in line to receive them. Soon there was trouble for the assailants. Shoal water stopped the schooner and the gun-boats ran aground. But their men swarmed into boats and rowed on in the wake of the other vessels which quickly made their way through the pass and began a vigorous attack on its defenders. Now the war was all afoot and we should be glad to tell of a gallant and nobly contested battle in which the sea-rovers showed desperate courage and reddened the sea with their blood. There might be inserted here a battle-piece worthy of the drakes and morgons of old if the facts only bore us out. Instead of that, however, we are forced to say that the pirates proved sheer catiffs when matched against honest men and the battle was a barren farce. Commander Patterson and his men dashed bravely on and in a very short time two of the pirate vessels were briskly burning, a third had run aground and the others were captured. Many of the pirates had fled, the others were taken. The battle over, the buildings on ground-tear and ground-eel were destroyed and the piratical lurking-place was utterly broken up. This done the fleet sailed in triumph for New Orleans bringing with them the captured craft and the prisoners who had been taken. But among the captives was neither of the Lafites. They had not stood to their guns but had escaped with the other fugitives into the secret places of the bay. Thus ends the history of Barataria Bay as a haunt of pirates. Since that day only honest craft have entered its sheltered waters. But the Lafites were not yet at the end of their career, or at least one of them, for of Pierre Lafite we hear very little after this time. Two months after their flight the famous British assault was made on New Orleans. General Jackson hurried to its defence and called armed men to his aid from all quarters carrying little who they were so they were ready to fight. Among those who answered the summons was Jean Lafite. He called on old Hickory and told him that he had a body for his command, tried and capable men and would like to take a hand in defence of the city. Jackson, who had not long before spoken of the Lafites as hellish banditi, was very glad now to accept their aid. We read of his politely alluding to them as these gentlemen and he gave into their charge the siege guns in several of the forts. These guns were skillfully handled and vigorously served the Baratarians fighting far more bravely in defence of the city than they had done in defence of their ships. They lent important aid in the defeat of Pakenham and his army and after the battle Jackson commended them warmly for their gallant conduct praising the Lafites also for the same courage and fidelity. A few words more and we have done. Of the pirates, two only made any future mark. Dominique Yon, the captain who had shared imprisonment with Pierre Lafite now settled down to quiet city life became a leader in warred politics and grew into something of a local hero fighting in the precincts instead of on the deck. Jean Lafite however went back to his old trade. From New Orleans he made his way to Texas then a province of Mexico and soon we hear of him at his buccaneering work. For a time he figured as governor of Galveston then for some years he commanded a fleet that wore the thin guys of Colombian privateers. After that he threw off all disguise and became an open pirate and as late as 1822 his name was the terror of the Gulf. Soon afterward a fleet of the United States swept those waters and cleared it of all paradical craft. Jean Lafite then vanished from view and no one knows whether he died fighting for the black flag or ended his life quietly on land. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Historical Tales Vol. 2, American 2 by Charles Morris Chapter 22, The Heroes of the Alamo On a day in the year 1835 the people of Nacodoches, Texas were engaged in the pleasant function of giving a public dinner to one of their leading citizens. In the midst of the festivities a person entered the room whose appearance was greeted with a salvo There seemed nothing in this person's appearance to call forth such a welcome. He was dressed in a half-Indian, half-hunter's garb a long-barreled rifle was slanted over his shoulder and he seemed a favourable specimen of the half-horse, half-alligator type of the early West. But there was a shrewd look on his weather-beaten face and a humorous twinkle in his eyes that betokened a man above the ordinary frontier level while it was very evident that he wasn't looked upon him as no everyday individual. The visitor was indeed a man of fame for he was no less a personage than the celebrated Davy Crockett the hunter-hero of West Tennessee. His fame was due less to his wonderful skill with the rifle than to his genial humor his endless stories of adventure his marvelous power of drawing the longbow. Davy had once been sent to Congress but there he found himself in waters too deep for his footing. The frontier was the place made for him and when he heard the Texas was in revolt against Mexican rule he shouldered his famous rifle and set out to take a hand in the game of revolution. It was a question in those days with the reckless borderers whether shooting a Mexican or a Coon was the better sport. The festive citizens of Nacodoches heard that Davy Crockett had arrived in their town on his way to join the Texan army and at once sent a committee to invite him to join in their feast. Hardy cheers as we have said hailed his entrance and it was not long before he had his worthy host in Roars of Laughter with his quaint frontier stories. He had come to stay with them as a citizen of Texas he said and to help them drive out the yellow-legged greasers and he wanted then and there to take the oath of allegiance to their new republic. If they wanted him to know what claim he had to the honor he would let old Betsy, his rifle, speak for him. Like George Washington Betsy never told a lie. The Nacodochians were not long in making him a citizen and he soon after set out for the Alamo the scene of his final exploit and his heroic death. The Alamo was a stronghold in the town of St. Antonio de Bejar in western Texas. It had been built for a mission house of the early Spaniards and though its walls were thick and strong they were only eight feet high and were destitute of bastion or redoubt. The place had nothing to make it suitable for war-like use yet it was to win a great name in the history of Texan independence a name that spread far beyond the borders of the lone star state and made its story a tradition of American heroism. Soon after the insurrection began a force of Texans had taken San Antonio driving out its Mexican garrison. Santa Ana, the president of Mexico marched north with an army breathing vengeance against the rebels. This town, which lay well towards the western border was the first he proposed to take. Under the circumstances the Texans would have been wise to retreat for they were few in number they had little ammunition and provisions and the town was in no condition for defense. But retreat was far from their thoughts and when, on an afternoon in February 1836 Santa Ana and his army in the vicinity of San Antonio the Texans withdrew to the Alamo the strongest building near the town prepared to fight to the death. There were less than two hundred of them in all against the thousands of the enemy but they were men of heroic mold. Colonel Travis, the commander mounted the walls with eight pieces of artillery and did all he could besides to put the place in a state of defense. To show the kind of man Travis was we cannot do better than to quote his letter asking for aid. Fellow citizens and compatriots I am besieged by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Ana. The enemy have commanded a surrender at discretion otherwise the garrison is to be put to the sword if the place is taken. I have answered the summons with a cannon shot and our flag still waves proudly from the walls. I shall never surrender or retreat. Then I call on you in the name of liberty, of patriotism and of everything dear to the American character to come to our aid with all dispatch. The enemy are receiving reinforcements daily and will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. Though this call may be neglected I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible and die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor or that of his country. Victory or death W. Barrett Travis, Lieutenant Colonel commanding. P.S. The Lord is on our side. When the enemy appeared in sight we had not three bushels of corn. We have since found in deserted houses eighty or ninety bushels and got into the walls twenty or thirty head of beaves. T. The only reinforcements received in response to this appeal were thirty-two gallant men from Gonzalez who made the whole number one hundred and eighty-eight. Colonel Fanon at Goliab sent out with three hundred men but the breaking down of one of his wagons and a scarcity of supplies obliged him to return. Among the Patriot garrison were Davy Crockett and Colonel James Bowie the latter as famous a man in his way as the great hunter. He was a duelist of national fame in those days when the border duels were fought with knife instead of a pistol. He used the bowie knife a terrible weapon in the hands of a resolute man. To be famed as a duelist is no worthy claim to admiration but to fight hand to hand with knife for weapon is significant of high courage. Small as were their numbers and slight as were their means of defense the heroes of the Alamo fought on without flinching. Santa Ana planted his batteries around the stronghold and kept up a steady bombardment. The Texans made little reply their store of ammunition was so small that it had to be kept for more critical work. In the town a blood red banner was displayed in lurid token of the sanguinary purpose of the Mexican leader but the garrison showed no signs of dismay. They were the descendants of men who had fought against the Indians of the south under light conditions and they were not likely to forget the traditions of their race. On the third of March a battery was erected within musket shot of the north wall of the fort a destructive fire. Travis now sent out a final appeal for aid and with it an affecting note to a friend in which he said take care of my boy if the country should be saved I may make him a splendid fortune but if the country should be lost and I should perish he will have nothing but the proud recollection that he is the son of a man who died for his country. The invading force increased in numbers until by the fifth of March there were more than four thousand of them around the fort most of them fresh while the garrison was worn out with incessant toil and witching. The end was near at hand soon after midnight on the sixth the Mexican army gathered close around the fort prepared for an assault the infantry carried scaling ladders behind them were drawn up the cavalry with orders to kill any man who might fly from the ranks this indicated Santa Ana's character and his opinion of men the men within the walls had no need to be driven to their work everyone was alert and at his post and they met with a hot fire from cannon and rifles the Mexican advance just as the new day dawned the ladders were placed against the walls and the Mexicans scrambled up their rounds they were driven back with heavy loss again the charge for assault was sounded and a second rush was made for the walls and once more the bullets of the defenders swept the field and the assailants fell back in dismay Santa Ana now went through the beaten ranks with threats and promises seeking to inspire his men with new courage and again they rushed forward on all sides of the fort many of the Texans had fallen and all of them were exhausted it was impossible to defend the whole circle of the walls the assailants who first reached the tops of the ladders were hurled to the ground but hundreds rushed in to take their places and at a dozen points they clambered over the walls it was no longer possible for the handful of survivors to keep them back in a few minutes the fort seemed full of assailants the Texans continued to fight with unflinching courage when their rifles were emptied they used them as clubs and struggled on till overwhelmed by numbers near the western wall of the fort stood Travis in the corner near the church stood Crockett both fighting like Homeric heroes old Betsy had done an ample share of his work that fatal night now used as a club it added nobly to its record the two heroes at length fell but around each was a heap of slain Colonel Bowie had taken no part in the fight having been for some days sick in bed he was there butchered and mutilated all others who were unable to fight met the same fate it had been proposed to blow up the magazine but Major Evans the man selected was shot as he attempted to perform it the struggle did not end while a man of the garrison was alive the only survivors being two Mexican women Mrs. Dickinson wife of one of the defenders and her child and the Negro servant of Colonel Travis as for the dead Texans their bodies were brutally mutilated and then thrown into heaps and burned thus fell the Alamo thus did the gallant Travis and his men keep their pledge of victory or death like the Spartans at Thermopylae the heroes of the Alamo did not retreat or ask for quarter but lay where they had stood in obedience to their country's commands and before and around them lay the bodies of more than five hundred of their enemies with as many wounded the Texans had not perished on avenged the sun rose in the skies until it was an hour high in the fort all was still but the waters of the aqueduct surrounding resembled in their crimson hue the red flag of death flying in the town the Alamo was the American Thermopylae End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 of Historical Tales Vol. 2 American 2 this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Historical Tales Vol. 2 American 2 by Charles Morris Chapter 23 how Houston won freedom for Texas we have told the story of the Alamo it needs to complete it the story of how Travis and his band of heroes were avenged and this is also the story of how Texas won its independence and took its place in the colony of nations as the lone star republic the Patriots of Texas had more to avenge than the slaughter at the Alamo the defenders of Goliad over four hundred in number under Colonel Fanon surrendered with a solemn promise of protection from Santa Ana after the surrender they were divided into several companies marched in different directions out of the town and there shot down in cold blood by the Mexican soldiers not a man of them being left alive Santa Ana now fancied himself the victor he had killed two hundred men with arms in their hands and made himself infamous by the massacre of four hundred more he had dispatched to Mexico to the effect that he had put down the rebellion and conquered a peace what he had really done was to fill the Texans with thirst for revenge as well as love of independence he had dealt with Travis and Fanon he had Sam Houston still to deal with General Houston was the leader of the Texan revolt while these murderous events were taking place he had only four hundred men under his command and was quite unable to prevent them defense now seemed hopeless the country was in a state of panic the settlers were abandoning their homes and fleeing as the Mexicans advanced but Sam Houston kept the field with a spirit like that which had animated the gallant Travis as the Mexicans advanced Houston slowly retreated he was maneuvering for time and place and seeking to increase his force finally after having brought up his small army to something over seven hundred men he took a stand on Buffalo Bayou a deep narrow stream flowing into the San Jacinto river resolved there to strike a blow for Texan independence it was a forlorn hope for against him was marshalled the far greater force of the Mexican army but Houston gave his men a watchword that added to their courage the hot fire of revenge after making them an eloquent and impassioned address he fired their souls with the war cry of the Alamo soon after the Mexican bugles rang out of the prairie announcing the approach of the vanguard of their army, eighteen hundred strong they were well appointed and made a showy display as they marched across the plain Houston grimly watched their approach turning to his own sparse ranks he said men there is the enemy do you wish to fight we do came in a fierce shout well then remember it was for liberty or death remember the Alamo as they stood behind their light breastworks ready for an attack if it should be made a lieutenant came galloping up his horse covered with foam as he drew near he shouted along the lines I've cut down Vince's bridge this was a bridge which both armies had used in coming to the battlefield general Houston had ordered its destruction its fall left the vanquished in that day's fight without hope of escape Santa Ana evidently was not ready for an immediate assault his men halted and entrenched themselves but Houston did not propose to delay at three in the afternoon while many of the Mexican officers were enjoying their siesta in perfect confidence Santa Ana himself being asleep the word to charge passed from rank to rank along the Texan front and in a moment the whole line advanced in double quick time filling the air with vengeful cries of remember the Alamo remember Goliad the Mexican troops sprang to their arms and awaited the attack reserving their fire until the Patriots were within sixty paces then they poured forth a volley which fortunately for the Texans went over their heads though a ball struck general Houston's ankle inflicting a very painful wound yet though bleeding and suffering the old hero kept to his saddle till the action was at an end the Texans made no reply to the fire of the foe until within pistol shot and then poured their leaden hail into the very bosoms of the Mexicans hundreds of them fell there was no time to reload having no bayonets the Texans clubbed their rifles and rushed in fury upon the foe still rending the air with their wild war cry of remember the Alamo the Mexicans were utterly unprepared for this furious hand to hand assault and quickly broke before the violent onset on all sides they gave way on the left the Texans penetrated the woodland the Mexicans fled on the right their cavalry charged that of Santa Ana which quickly broke and sought safety in flight in the center they stormed the breast works took the enemies artillery and drove them back into Smae in fifteen minutes after the charge the Mexicans were in panic flight the Texans in mad pursuit scarce an hour had passed since the Patriots left their works and the battle was won such was the consternation of the Mexicans so sudden and utter their route that their cannon were left loaded and their movables untouched those who were asleep awoke only in time to flee those who were cooking their dinner left it uneaten those who were playing their favorite game of monte left it unfinished the pursuit was kept up till nightfall by which time the bulk of the Mexican army were prisoners of war the victory had been won almost without loss only seven of the Texans were killed and twenty-three wounded the Mexican loss was six hundred and thirty while seven hundred and thirty were made prisoners but the man they most wanted was still at large Santa Ana was not among the captives on the morning of the following day April 22nd the Texan cavalry scouring the country for prisoners with a sharp eye open for the hated leader of the foe saw a Mexican whom they loudly had to surrender at their demand he fell on the grass and threw a blanket over his head they had to call on him several times to rise before he slowly dragged himself to his feet then he went up to Sylvester the leader of the party and kissed his hand asking if he was General Houston the man was evidently half beside himself with fright he was only a private soldier he declared but when his captors pointed to the fine studs in the bosom of his shirt it was clear that he was an aide to Santa Ana the truth came out as the captors brought him back to camp passing the prisoners many of whom cried out El Presidente it was evidently Santa Ana himself the president of Mexico was a prisoner and Texas was free when the trembling captive was brought before Houston he said General you can afford to be generous you have conquered the Napoleon of the west had Houston done full justice to this Napoleon he would have hung him on the spot as it was his captors proved generous and his life was spared the victory of Sanya Sinto struck the fetters from the hands of Texas no further attempt was made to conquer it and General Houston became the hero and the first president of the new republic when Texas was made a part of the United States Houston was one of its first senators and in later years he served as governor of the state this splendid victory had made him its favorite son End of Chapter 23 Chapter 24 of Historical Tales Volume 2 American 2 this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Historical Tales Volume 2 American 2 by Charles Morris Chapter 24 Captain Robert E. Lee and the Lava Beds the Mexican war brief as was its period of operations in the field many deeds of daring and also was the scene of the first service in the field of various officers who afterward became prominent in the Civil War chief among these were the two great leaders on the opposite sides General Lee and General Grant Lee's services in the campaign which Scott conducted against the city of Mexico were especially brilliant and are likely to be less familiar to the reader than any incident drawn from his well-known record in the Civil War the most striking among them was his midnight crossing of the lava fields before Contreras on the 19th of August 1847 Scott's army lay in and around San Agustin a place situated on a branch of the main road running south from the city of Mexico this road divided into two at Cherubusco the other branch running near Contreras between these two roads and a ridge of hills south of San Agustin extended a triangular region known as the Pedigral and about as ugly a place to cross as any ground could well be it was made up of a vast spread of volcanic rock and scoriae rent and broken into a thousand forms and with sharp ridges and deep fissures making it very difficult for foot soldiers to get over and quite impassable for cavalry or artillery it was like a sea of hardened lava with no signs of vegetation except a few clumps of bushes and dwarf trees that found footing in the rocks the other branch found footing in the rocks the only road across it was a difficult crooked and barely passable pathway little better than a mule track leading from San Agustin to the main road from the city of Mexico on the plateau beyond this sterile region the Mexicans had gathered in force just beyond it General Valencia lay entrenched with his fine division of about 6,000 men and 24 guns commanding the approach from San Agustin a mile or more north of Contreras lay General Santa Ana his force holding the main city road such was the situation of the respective armies at the date given with the pedigral separating them Captain Lee who had already done excellent engineering service at Vera Cruz and Cerro Gordo assisted by Lieutenant's Bureau Guard and Tower of the Engineers had carefully reconnoitred the position of the enemy and on the morning of the 19th the advance from San Agustin began Captain Lee accompanying the troops in their arduous passage across the pedigral one of those present thus describes the exploit Late in the morning of the 19th the brigade of which my regiment was apart Riley's was sent out from San Agustin in the direction of Contreras we soon struck a region over which it was said no horses could go and men only with difficulty no road was available my regiment was in advance my company leading and its point of direction was a church spire at or near Contreras taking the lead we soon struck the pedigral a field of volcanic rock like boiling scoria suddenly solidified pathless precipitous and generally compelling rapid gate in order to spring from point to point of rock on which two feet could not rest and which cut through our shoes a fall on this sharp material would have seriously cut and injured one the effort to climb some of it cut the hands just before reaching the main road from Contreras to the city of Mexico we reached a watery ravine the sides of which were nearly perpendicular up which I had to be pushed and then to pull others on looking back over this bed of lava or scoria I saw the troops much scattered picking their way very slowly while of my own company some 80 or 90 strong only five men crossed with me or during some 20 minutes after with these five I examined the country beyond and struck upon the small guard of a paymasters park which from the character of the country over which we had passed was deemed perfectly safe from capture my men gained a paymasters chest well filled with bags of silver dollars and the firing and fuss we made both frightened the guard with the belief that the infernals were upon them and made our men hasten to our support before sundown all of Riley's and I believe of Cadwalladers Smith's and Pierce's brigades were over and by nine o'clock a council of war presided over by Persefer Smith and counseled by Captain R.E. Lee was held at the church I have always understood that what was devised and finally determined upon was suggested by Captain Lee at all events the council was closed by his saying that he desired to return to General Scott with the decision of General Smith as it was late the decision must be given as soon as possible since General Scott wished him to return in time to give directions for cooperation during the council and for hours after the rain fell in torrents whilst the darkness was so intense that one could move only by groping to illustrate my company again led the way to gain the Mexican rear and when after two hours of motion light broke sufficiently to enable us to see a companion a few feet off two hundred yards and the only persons present were half a dozen officers and one guide much is said of the perils of war and of the courage necessary to face them but who would not rather face a firing line of infantry in full daylight than to venture alone in such a dark and stormy night as was this upon such a perilous and threatening region as the Pedregal in which a misstep in the darkness would surely lead to wounds and perhaps to death its crossing under such conditions might well be deemed impossible had not captainly succeeded born up by his strong sense of duty in this daring enterprise General Scott, who was very anxious to know the position of the advance forces had sent out seven officers about sundown with instructions to the troops at Contreras but they had all returned completely baffled by the insuperable difficulties of the way not a man except Robert E. Lee had the daring skill and persistence to cross this region of volcanic knife blades on that night of rain and gloom the writer above quoted from says General Scott adds his testimony to this by saying Scott subsequently gave the following testimony to the same effect this praise is certainly not misapplied when we remember that Lee passed over miles of the kind of ground above described in a pitch dark night without light or companion with no guide but the wind as it drove the pelting rain against his face or an occasional flash of lightning and with the danger of falling into the hands of Valencia or Santa Ana if he should happen to stray to the right or the left this praise is certainly not misapplied when we remember that Lee passed over miles of the kind of ground above described the way to the right or the left it is doubtful if another man in the army would have succeeded in such an enterprise if anyone had the courage to attempt it it took a man of the caliber which Robert E. Lee afterward proved himself to possess to perform such a deed of daring we may briefly describe Lee's connection with the subsequent events he bore an important part in the operations against the Mexicans guiding the troops when they set out about three o'clock in the morning on a tedious march through darkness, rain and mud an elevation in the rear of the enemy's forces being gained about sunrise an assault was at once made on the surprised Mexicans their entrenchments were stormed and in seventeen minutes after the charge began they were in full flight and the American flag was floating proudly above their works thus ended the battle of Contreras Captain Lee was next sent to reconnoitre the well fortified stronghold of Coyacán while another reconnaissance was made in Chorobusco, one mile distant after Lee had completed his task he was ordered to conduct pierces brigade by a third road to a point from which an attack could be made on the enemy's right and rear shields was ordered to follow Pierce closely and take command of the left wing the battle soon raged violently along the whole line shields, in his exposed position was hard pressed and in danger of being crushed by overwhelming forces in this alarming situation Captain Lee made his way to General Scott to report the impending disaster and led back two troops of the second dragoons and the rifles to the support of the left wing the affair ended in the repulse of the enemy and victory for the Americans soon after a third victory was won at the Molinae del Rey Scott's army was now rapidly approaching the city of Mexico the central point of all these operations and the engineer officers Captain Lee Lieutenant Beauregard and others were kept busy in reconnaissance which they performed with daring and success then quickly followed the boldest and most spectacular exploit of the war the brilliant charge up the steep heights of Chepultepec a hill that bristled with walls, mines and batteries and whose summit was crowned with a powerful fortress swarming with confident defenders up this hill went the American infantry like so many panthers bounding impetuously onward in face of the hot fire from the Mexican works scaling crags clambering up declivities all with a fiery valor and intrepidity which nothing could check until the heights were carried the works scaled and the enemy put to flight in this charge one of the most brilliant in American history Captain Lee took an active part till he was disabled by a severe wound and a loss of blood General Scott again speaks of his service here in complimentary words saying that he was as distinguished as his execution as for science and daring and also stating that Captain Lee, so constantly distinguished also bore important orders from me until he fainted from a wound and the loss of two nights sleep at the batteries Scott indeed had an exalted opinion of Lee's remarkable military abilities and the Honorable Reverend E. Johnson has stated that he had heard General Scott more than once say that his success in Mexico was largely due to the skill valor and undaunted energy of Robert E. Lee in later years Scott said Lee is the greatest military genius in America Lee's services were not left without reward he received successfully the brevet rank of major, Lieutenant Colonel and Colonel the latter for his service at Chipotlepec the victory at this point was the culminating event of the war shortly afterward the Mexican capital was occupied and the Mexicans soon gave up the contest as hopeless a new Cortez was in their streets who was not to be got rid of except at a heavy sacrifice as to how Lee occupied himself during this period we may quote an anecdote coming from General Magruder after the fall of Mexico when the American army was enjoying the ease and relaxation which it had bought by toil and blood a brilliant assembly of officers sat over their wine discussing the operations of the capture and indulging hopes of a speedy return to the United States one among them rose to propose the health of the captain of engineers who had found a way for the army into the city and then it was remarked that Captain Lee was absent Magruder was dispatched to bring him to the hall and departing on his mission at last found the object of his search in a remote room of the palace, busy on a map Magruder accosted him and reproached him for his absence the earnest worker looked up from his labors with the calm, mild gaze which was so characteristic of the man and pointing to his instruments shook his head but, said Magruder in his impetuous way this is mere drudgery make somebody else do it and come with me no was the reply no, I am but doing my duty this is very significant of Lee's subsequent character in which the demands of duty always outweighed any thought of pleasure or relaxation and in which his remarkable ability as an engineer was of inestimable advantage to the cause he served End of Chapter 24