troy the remnant of
the bridge, which had been partially broken, and to take post there,
while the general kept an eye on Watson.

The pass of the lower bridge was now to decide the fate of
Williamsburgh, and seventy of her sons, under her most approved
leaders, were gone forth to defend it. Maj. James proceeded with great
expedition, and crossing the river by a shorter route than the road,
arrived at the bridge in time to throw down two of the middle arches,
and to fire the string pieces at the eastern end. At this place the west
bank of the river is considerably elevated, the east low and somewhat
swampy, and on the west the road passes to the bridge through a ravine;
the river is forty or fifty yards wide, and though deep, was fordable
below the bridge. As soon as the breach in it was effected, Maj. James
drew up M'Cottry's riflemen on each side of the ford and end of the
bridge, so as to have a fair view of the ravine, and disposed the rest
of his little band on the flanks. Not long after, Marion arriving, took
post in the rear, and sent Capt. Thomas Potts, with his Pedee company,
to reinforce Maj. James; and this had scarcely been effected, when
Watson's field pieces opened their fire, from the opposite bank to clear
his way, for a passage at the ford. These field pieces could not be
brought to bear on the low grounds to the east without exposing his
artillerists on the hill to the fire of the riflemen. His balls hit
the pines across the river, about midway their trunks, or passed over
disregarded. This attempt not succeeding, Watson drew up his columns in
the old field over the river, and his advance was now seen approaching
the ford with an officer at its head, waving his sword. M'Cottry fired
the signal gun, and the officer clapped his hand to his breast and
fell to the ground. The riflemen and musketeers next poured in a well
directed and deadly fire, and the British advance fled in disorder; nor
did the reserve move forward to its support. Four men returned to bear
off their officer, but all four shared his fate. In the evening,
Watson succeeded in removing his dead and wounded, and took up his head
quarters at John Witherspoon's, a mile above the bridge. Here he was
overheard to say, "that he never saw such shooting in his life." To men
fighting for their homes, wives, families, and their very existence,
"nothing appeared difficult;" and good shooting, if not a virtue in
them, was highly commendable. Gen. Mar