As it turned
out, General Davidson's main camp was a good half-mile back from the
river in one of the outfields of Appleby Hundred. So it chanced there
were upon the spot only brave Joe Graham and his fifty riflemen to
dispute the passage of an army.
What was done at Macgowan's Ford in the gray of the morning of February
first, 1781, has become a page in our history. But I protest that not
any of the chroniclers do even-handed justice to the little band of
patriot riflemen doing their utmost to hold a hundred-to-one
outnumbering host in check.
'Twas a fine sight, be the onlooker Whig or Tory. The Guards, led by
the fiery Irishman, O'Hara, took the water first, the men crowding
shoulder to shoulder to brace against the sweep of the current which, on
the western side of the stream, was little less than a mill-tail for
swiftness. After them came the foot and horse in solid squares, and
always with more to follow. None the less, our little handful did not
blanch; and when the Guards in midstream held straight across instead of
bearing to the right as the ford ran, a shout went up on our side and
the fifty hastened up from the ford-head as one man to face the enemy
squarely.
Now it was that the brown-barreled rifles began to crack and spit fire;
and I do think if we had had our other two hundred and fifty out of that
back field on the manor lands, we might at least have made the wading
redcoats hurry a little. Indeed, as it was, the van of the Guards broke
here and there, and we could hear O'Hara berating his men as only a
battle-mad Irishman can, with blarneyings and curses intermingled.
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