The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [295]
“What is Morgan’s strength?”
“We’re not certain, sir. He has possibly been joined by some of the partisans. I am not concerned on that account.”
“All right, Colonel. The mission is yours. You will seek out General Morgan’s force and prevent him from completing his mission, whatever that might be. Since you have approximate knowledge of his direction of march, I would advise you to make haste. There is no reason to allow the rebels time to amend their plans. I cannot assume their intelligence is as ridiculous as mine. As for Greene, I have ordered General Leslie to rendezvous with what small force I have here. Combined, General Leslie and I will field some three thousand men. If you can eliminate Morgan as an effective force, Greene should offer us a very satisfying target.”
The meeting concluded, and Tarleton swept out of the office with his usual dramatic flare, a wave of the hat, a sharp spin on his heels. Cornwallis could not sit at the desk, began to pace again. He felt an odd clarity, imagined Greene in his mind, a man he had never seen. This is not, after all, about militias and partisans and outposts in some bloody miserable frontier. It is about armies and generals, and what kind of fight we will drive into their hearts. I have allowed myself to dwell on absurd distraction. Loyalist atrocities and rebel butchery will matter very little if Greene is swept away. I have to trust Colonel Tarleton’s information, and so, I must believe that Greene has divided his army. It is a significant mistake. Now, we shall show him why.
49. MORGAN
JANUARY 16, 1781
HIS MEN HAD BEEN STRUNG OUT ON A MARCH THAT WAS TAKING FAR longer than he had hoped. It was typical of Morgan to get bored riding with the main column, fighting the temptation to ride out ahead, to do the work of the skirmishers. Usually it was simple impatience, but this time he was anxious, uncertain, and now, he might be in serious trouble.
The scouts had come to him with regular reports, and too many of them had brought the same information. He was being pursued, and very soon the pursuit would become an engagement. If his men continued to march in such a ragged formation, spread out along the roads, Banastre Tarleton would cut them to pieces.
He knew of Tarleton only by reputation, a fiery young man who loved the saber. Morgan was amused by the nightmarish descriptions of the British Legion, the hushed talk around campfires of beastly men who showed no hesitation in butchering prisoners, who, in the aftermath of battle, would walk among the wounded with sabers flashing, to finish their gruesome job. But the danger was now very real, and it had less to do with some monstrous quality to Tarleton’s men than the vulnerability of Morgan’s position. Once Tarleton’s pursuit was confirmed, Morgan spread the word to every unit. There was no reason to keep it secret. If the men knew it was Tarleton in their rear, it would most certainly quicken their march.
The cavalry unit Greene had given him was commanded by William Washington, a relative of the commanding general. Morgan had sent Washington’s horsemen to the rear of the column, keeping a sharp eye on the enemy who pursued them. Out to the front, Morgan had sent scouts, militiamen familiar with the land, their mission to find good ground, a safe place to make camp and, possibly, the place where they would make their stand.
Morgan’s original mission was to march all the way to Georgia, to inspire a wave of new recruits to join Greene’s army. But it was clear now that the plan was far too dangerous. Cornwallis had made the correct response, and Morgan realized that he could not have free rein to march around the main British position without attracting the kind of attention he was getting from Banastre Tarleton.
Morgan had believed much of what he had told Greene about the spirit of the partisan militia, but nearly a third of this column were raw recruits, men from North Carolina and Virginia. The remainder were veterans, tough partisan militia plus continental regulars,