CHAPTER 3.
FLORIDA, THE CARIBBEAN, AND GEORGIA, 1739-1748

With the Peace of Utrecht in 1713, the North American colonies began a twenty-six-year period of freedom from international warfare, a period finally ended in 1739 by the outbreak of war between Britain and Spain. Early in that interval of relative peace the British government began to feel growing concern over the apparent weakness and vulnerability of American flank colonies such as Carolina, and in 1721 sent an independent company of regular troops for the defense of the southern frontier. Eleven years later the Crown granted a charter for the establishment of a new colony, Georgia, to provide a defensive buffer between South Carolina and Spanish Florida. Georgia’s first organized settlers founded Savannah in 1733, under the leadership of a well-known member of Parliament and former subaltern in the British army, James Oglethorpe. Then, in 1737, with the Spanish threat increasing, Britain provided a newly raised regiment of regulars for the new colony, using the old independent company of South Carolina as a nucleus, a regiment soon to be known as the Forty-second Foot. Command of this regiment was given to Oglethorpe, with the rank of brigadier general, even though he had been a civilian for more than twenty years. In addition, Oglethorpe was designated commander in chief of all British forces in both Georgia and Carolina, with primary responsibility for defending the area against the Spaniards.¹

Britain’s declaration of war against Spain in October 1739 gave Oglethorpe a desired opportunity to mount an offensive against Florida, with the objective of capturing St. Augustine, the principal Spanish base on the east coast 150 miles below Savannah. In reality, St. Augustine was little more than a sleepy garrison town located on a harbor having a northern entrance and a southern entrance thirteen miles apart, providing excellent shelter for Spanish shipping. The town itself, located almost directly opposite the northern entrance, was guarded by an impressive fortification called the Castillo de San Marcos, which had proved its mettle in 1702 when an expedition from South Carolina had tried and failed to take it. But now General Oglethorpe was convinced that he had the resources to deprive the Spaniards of their base at St. Augustine, and early in 1740 began making preparations for a full-scale military-naval expedition. Available land forces consisted of the Forty-second Foot, a regiment of South Carolina provincial troops commanded by Colonel Alexander Vander Dussen, a contingent of Georgia provincials, and some friendly Indians—truly a mixed lot. Also essential for success was a small squadron of the Royal Navy that happened to be on the coast of Carolina, under the command of Commodore Vincent Pearce. The principal service to be performed by this squadron was to patrol off the entrances to the harbor in order to intercept any Spanish ships bringing reinforcements and supplies from the Spanish base at Havana.²

South Carolina was happy at the prospect of ravaging Florida, but before agreeing to participate in the venture the legislature at Charleston proposed to Oglethorpe certain conditions. The South Carolina troops, provincials to the last man, were to remain a distinct contingent subject to the orders of their own colony. Any plunder taken at St. Augustine was to be divided and distributed among the troops as specified by a council of war in which South Carolina officers, as well as Oglethorpe’s regular officers, were to be included. Indeed, in all councils of war during the operation, South Carolina officers were to have equal votes with regular officers of the same rank, while yielding “Place and Precedence to General Oglethorpe’s Officers of the same Rank.” Of particular importance in the successful raising of the South Carolina regiment was the legislature’s insistence that “all offences committed by any of the Troops from this Government shall be finally determined and punished, by the officers of their own regiment only.”³ Such provisions clearly reflect the provincials’ profound reluctance to come under the full authority and control of the regular forces, a reluctance arising from long tradition and experience. Oglethorpe, responding to these proposals, promised that the provincial troops would be subject to trial by their own regimental officers, reserving to himself only the right either to approve or suspend any penalties imposed. In addition, he specified that all plunder would be divided in accordance with a system regularly used in the navy, thereby avoiding the unseemly wrangling that might occur over such an issue in a mixed council of war. Finally, too, the general promised that the Carolinians would be free to return home after four months of service. That Oglethorpe was not willing to leave the training and disciplining of the raw provincials entirely to their own officers, however, is indicated by the fact that he temporarily detached Lieutenants Cadogan and Maxwell from the Forty-second Foot in order to assist in preparing the South Carolina regiment for active duty.⁴

In April, Pearce’s naval squadron began patrolling off the Florida coast. A month later the land force, consisting of the regulars and provincials from Georgia and South Carolina, advanced southward from the mouth of the St. Johns River overland toward St. Augustine. Relations among the three major components of the British forces—Pearce’s squadron, Oglethorpe’s regiment of redcoats, and Vander Dussen’s provincials—both during and after the operation, are of particular interest. The surviving evidence, some of it markedly partisan and very bitter, is clouded with controversy. Throughout we can gain clear glimpses of both intercolonial and interservice friction, some of it apparently trivial, but all contributing to an atmosphere of mutual antipathy.

Almost from the outset, it seems, Oglethorpe did not get along well with the Carolinians, who later charged that the general had confiscated for his own purposes Florida horses, which they had rounded up to carry their baggage, but would not permit the soldiers to slaughter Florida cattle for meat without compensating the owners. Possibly the conscientious Oglethorpe simply was intent upon protecting the property of Spanish ranchers in order to gain their good will, but such a policy seemed outrageous to the plunder-seeking provincials. As the army advanced close to St. Augustine, Colonel John Palmer of the South Carolina volunteers, an experienced frontier fighter, became convinced that the town could be taken by a sudden swift attack before the Spaniards had time to complete their preparations. Going to Oglethorpe, he volunteered to lead 200 of his fellow colonists in such an attack, but the general rejected the proposal out-of-hand as too risky. Perhaps it was, but Palmer was not convinced. Shortly thereafter, when Lieutenant Jonathan Bryan and several rangers crept very close to the fringes of the Spanish town they detected signs of confusion within. They too thought that a quick, determined assault would succeed, but again the general refused to give his consent. His unwavering opposition only infuriated the South Carolinians, who felt that a good opportunity for a speedy victory and plenty of plunder had been tossed aside.⁵

One outpost overrun early by the British was Fort Moosa, two miles north of St. Augustine, but in taking the place they had destroyed the gates and made breaches in the walls, thereby rendering it virtually indefensible. Left standing within the walls, however, was a substantial structure capable of sheltering a considerable number of troops. Here Oglethorpe and his staff established temporary headquarters, posting a sentinel at the door. When a sudden downpour of rain occurred, a small horde of Carolinians, among them Colonel Palmer and other provincial officers, pushed into the building to escape a drenching. This unexpected and disorderly intrusion greatly annoyed the general, who sharply rebuked his sentry for not blocking the entrance, and then actually ordered Palmer and his companions back outside.⁶ The episode was symptomatic and perhaps symbolic of the animosity that was steadily rising between the Georgians and Carolinians, the regulars and provincials. When it came to making military decisions, Oglethorpe conferred mostly with his own regular officers, occasionally with his naval colleagues, who also were professionals, but seldom in any formal way with the provincial officers from South Carolina, a neglect that was bitterly resented. The Carolinians, weakened by sickness, disillusioned with Oglethorpe’s inability to force a surrender, and grievously disappointed in their expectation of plunder, saw themselves being dealt with like mere pawns. This they deeply resented, remembering well the promises their own legislature had extracted from the general. Finally, they embodied their frustrations in a written complaint dated 17 June 1740 and signed by the lieutenant colonel, the major, and every captain and lieutenant of the provincial regiment.⁷

A quick trip back to ruined Fort Moosa reveals yet more. Oglethorpe had thrown together a provisional company of about 140 men to patrol the vicinity of that outpost. The composition of the company was unusual, for it included a dozen regulars of the Forty-second Foot, nine Carolina rangers, some Georgia provincials, and a number of Indians. Commanding this variegated outfit was Colonel Palmer of South Carolina, assisted by Captains Hugh Mackay and John McIntosh of the regulars. Unlike the two captains, the colonel had no royal commission, a lack that apparently raised in the minds of Mackay and McIntosh serious doubts concerning Palmer’s ability to command and their obligation to obey. Once the company had established itself at the remains of Fort Moosa the trouble began, with Mackay and McIntosh opposing the decisions and policies of Colonel Palmer. There was a dispute over the placement of sentries, with the consequence that arrangements to prevent surprise were inadequate. There was a quarrel about whether it was preferable to remain overnight within the dubious protection of the breached walls or bivouac in concealment outside, with the result that some of the troops did one thing and some the other. Palmer, as an old Indian fighter, knew that dawn was the most likely time for an enemy attack and so, early every morning, he would order all hands up and under arms for a dawn alert. The regulars, enjoying their best sleep at that time, were most uncooperative. As was said later, “none knew who had the chief Command really.” One morning at early light a Spanish raiding party made a daring surprise attack upon Fort Moosa, killing about half of the garrison. Ironically, Mackay was among the half who survived, Palmer among the dead.⁸

Nor was the navy always cooperative. Some time before Oglethorpe’s army had arrived at St. Augustine and begun the siege, the Spaniards had managed to slip six galleys and a couple of supply vessels from Cuba into the harbor to bolster the defenses. The galleys, shallow-draft vessels armed with long brass nine-pounders, could be positioned so as to prevent any British approach in force across the harbor to the fort and town. Consequently, the very success or failure of Oglethorpe’s endeavor now appeared to hinge upon the elimination of those galleys. For once, Oglethorpe and Vander Dussen were in agreement—the galleys must be attacked and destroyed. Accordingly, the militia colonel from South Carolina offered to lead some of his provincials in a surprise night attack with that objective, if the navy would provide him with a sufficient number of pinnaces and longboats manned by seamen from Pearce’s squadron. When Vander Dussen proposed his scheme to naval officers on shore, they seemed favorably impressed, but Commodore Pearce had serious doubts about the feasibility of such an attempt, and vacillated. Consulting his own officers he finally came out with a flat refusal, which meant that the galleys remained secure, while discouragement among the officers and men of the besieging army continued to grow.⁹

Further aggravating the situation was Commodore Pearce’s warning that his squadron could remain on the Florida coast no later than 5 July. With the navy gone, Oglethorpe’s divided, dwindling, and constantly bickering army would have no choice but to begin a humiliating and hazardous withdrawal. Toward the end of June, as fate would have it, the wind swung into the east and picked up force, presaging a nasty storm capable of driving the ships ashore. So imminent was the danger that Pearce now ordered his squadron to make for the relative security of the open sea until the storm should subside, when they would return for the few remaining days. One of the ships, leaving its station off the southern entrance to the harbor preparatory to joining Pearce, sighted sails approaching, but instead of taking the initiative and investigating, obeyed orders and continued on its course. As a result, Spanish supply vessels from Cuba were able to gain the southern entrance without interference and deliver their much-needed cargoes. To the army ashore, regulars and provincials alike, it seemed that the navy was neither efficient nor enthusiastic in its support of the siege; Pearce and his officers seem to have had equivalent respect for the behavior of the land force. Captain Peter Warren of HMS Squirrel probably was expressing the general opinion held by his colleagues when he referred with scorn to “the ill-concerted and worse conducted attack on St. Augustine. I hope,” Warren fervently concluded, “I shall never have any part in such an expedition again.”¹⁰ After the storm had subsided, Pearce did return, but he held adamantly to his deadline for final departure, which now was very close. Both Oglethorpe and Vander Dussen begged him to leave behind a couple of his ships to guard the approaches, and to let a number of his seamen remain with the besieging army, but all in vain. On 5 July the greater part of the squadron set sail and soon disappeared beyond the horizon, while the morale of the troops on shore sank to new depths.

Oglethorpe, weakened by fever, now was convinced that any further attempt against St. Augustine would be futile if not positively disastrous, and ordered a general withdrawal. Vander Dussen, on the other hand, was loath to quit, and tried to convince the general that the Spanish galleys still could be checkmated and the town taken. His enthusiasm was not contagious. Rather, a sense of defeat prevailed, and so the siege, which had lasted more than five weeks, was abandoned. Not unexpectedly, the army’s withdrawal to Georgia and South Carolina was less than a model of order and discipline, with Oglethorpe’s already limited authority rapidly disintegrating amid further quarreling between regulars and provincials. Indeed, the Spanish commander at St. Augustine was left in some wonderment at the haste and waste of the British departure.¹¹

This account of mistrust and dissension would not be complete without a brief review of the intercolonial, interservice controversy that erupted in the wake of the inglorious St. Augustine operation. As early as mid-July, long before the troops had returned, the people of Charleston were agonizing over reports of failure, and beginning to lay blame upon Pearce and, especially, Oglethorpe.¹² The South Carolina legislature established a joint committee charged with the responsibility of conducting a thorough investigation. Shortly thereafter, when Vander Dussen and his weary, disgusted soldiers put in their appearance at Charleston having suffered much and gained nothing, the colonists heard more concerning military and naval mismanagement. Soon the bitter recriminations were spreading fast, with Oglethorpe placing the blame for failure “wholly upon the Sea Officers, They upon him, and Col. Vanderdussen upon both of ’em,” as Charles Pinckney reported.¹³ A most unpleasant post mortem was getting underway, with regulars and provincials in bitter contention.

As could have been predicted, the legislative committee’s extensive, heavily documented report, which was published at Charleston in 1742, endorsed the conduct of the Carolinians, and criticized both Pearce and Oglethorpe.¹⁴ The main points of the indictment were summarized in the South Carolina Gazette of 5—12 July 1742. This, in turn, inspired Oglethorpe and his principal defenders to draft and sign a certificate specifically denying the charge that at the conclusion of the siege the navy and the Forty-second Foot had left the South Carolina regiment to fend for itself. On the contrary, Oglethorpe insisted, during the subsequent withdrawal Vander Dussen and his provincials had advanced to the rear with unsoldierlike haste and disorder. One officer of the Forty-second Foot, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Heron, in a letter from the regiment’s base at Frederica, Georgia, laid blame on Vander Dussen, Palmer, and the Carolinians in general, while defending Oglethorpe at every point.¹⁵

The argument spread extensively through the press. Widely disseminated was a pamphlet published in London in 1742 under the title An Impartial Account of the Late Expedition Against St. Augustine Under General Oglethorpe, authored by one James Kilpatrick in defense of South Carolina’s role. Here Oglethorpe was depicted as a fumbling commander who declined to accept good advice from his subordinates. Pearce, too, came under censure for his opposition to Vander Dussen’s proposal for eliminating the Spanish galleys and for his squadron’s failure to prevent critically needed supplies from reaching the Spanish garrison. Kilpatrick’s partisan pamphlet was answered the following year by Lieutenant George Cadogan of the Forty-second Foot in a pamphlet titled The Spanish Hireling Detected, also published in London. Calling Kilpatrick’s work “a Compendium of Malice, Scandal, and Falshood,” Cadogan charged the South Carolina provincials with a lack of spirit, and especially condemned their officers for wanting to reach military decisions by counting votes, a practice far from common in the regular army.¹⁶ Kilpatrick responded with A Full Reply to Lieut. Cadogan’s Spanish Hireling &c, a detailed refutation supported by numerous excerpts from pertinent documents, which was distributed by South Carolina’s unwearying advocates to a considerable number of high public officials in London, including the members of the Board of Trade.¹⁷ A subsequent blow for Oglethorpe was struck by an adulating Edward Kimber who made public his opinion that the Georgia general had been “betrayed and neglected by the mean Carolina Regiment, and many of the Men of War.”¹⁸

By 1744 Oglethorpe himself was in England. Learning that his old antagonist Vander Dussen was applying for a regular commission, the controversial general composed a letter to the secretary at war, calling the application impudent, and stating that if Vander Dussen had been a regular officer instead of a provincial officer in the expedition of 1740 his behavior would have cost him his commission. That certainly was not the last word in the controversy, but it does stand out as one clear indication of a British regular officer’s opinion of a provincial commander.¹⁹

While Oglethorpe had been fumbling and failing in Florida, a much greater military operation elsewhere, initiated by the ministry in London, was getting underway. It was to be a massive British effort to strike a decisive blow against Spanish wealth and power in the Caribbean. In due course a mighty expeditionary force consisting of a large fleet and many regiments of regular troops would be assembled and dispatched across the Atlantic to the British colony of Jamaica. Supreme naval command rested with Vice Admiral Edward Vernon; command of the army devolved upon Brigadier General Thomas Wentworth. At some point in the early planning somebody in Whitehall had the bright idea that it would be helpful to get the North American colonies in on the action, at least to the extent of contributing a large contingent of provincial troops. That idea, gaining official approval, was quickly built into the plan, thereby opening the way for another experiment in Anglo-American military relations.²⁰

Soon the question was being asked: Will the American contingent come directly under the authority of the British high command in the Caribbean, being subject to the latter’s orders and discipline just like the regulars? To this inquiry the ministry replied rather stiffly, “We can see no Reason for distinguishing the American Troops, by particular Instructions, from the Rest of His Majesty’s Forces ... in point of Subjection and Discipline, if they are subject thereto by the Laws now in being.”²¹ As far as Whitehall was concerned, that appeared to be the end of the issue. Alexander Spotswood, former lieutenant governor of Virginia, already had cautioned against too great a reliance on the provincials. It was essential, he felt, to have a substantial body of regulars present with colonial troops in any West Indian operation in order to “sustain and support such a loose force, and to serve upon all occasions where Order and Discipline is chiefly required and even ... to oblige those Voluntiers to submit to Rule and Command.”²² Spotswood’s view was in perfect accord with the opinion prevalent among British officials, including the officers of the professional armed forces, who considered provincial troops slackly disciplined and unreliable.

At the outset, command of the American contingent for the operation in the Caribbean was given by the Crown to Spotswood. When Spots-wood died unexpectedly before the contingent was actually raised, the command passed to the lieutenant governor of Virginia, William Gooch, a conscientious and energetic administrator who, as a young man, had served under Marlborough. Eleven colonies, from New England to North Carolina, were to supply the troops, each colony raising a number of companies to be combined into a very large regiment totaling, it was hoped, something over three thousand men.

In the spring of 1740, while Oglethorpe was busy preparing for his attempt against St. Augustine, the Crown sent to the colonies a regular officer, Colonel William Blakeney, to assist in raising, organizing, and preparing Gooch’s regiment. Blakeney carried with him royal instructions for the various provincial governors involved, instructions that reveal much about the ministry’s intentions. All staff and field officers of the regiment were to be appointed by the Crown, company officers by the respective governors, with the regular army providing an experienced lieutenant and a sergeant for each of the companies as a means of elevating the level of training and discipline. For the governor’s use, Blakeney was able to supply a limited number of blank commissions, presumably carefully differentiated from regular commissions so that the recipients, although clearly being made subject to the authority of the British high command, would not subsequently be eligible to retire upon half pay.²³

The king agreed to furnish Gooch’s American Foot, as the regiment came to be known, with uniforms, tents, weapons, and ammunition. In addition, “the Troops to be raised in pursuance of these Our Instructions, as well Officers, as Soldiers, shall enter into Our Pay, and enjoy the same Rank and Pay with the rest of Our British Troops, so long as they shall continue in Our Service.” Once arrived at Jamaica, “they shall be provided for in every other respect as Our British Troops.”²⁴ These were generous terms, deliberately made so in hope of arousing a willing response on the part of colonial legislatures, which were being asked to appropriate funds for subsisting the troops until they joined the main British forces and transporting them from their respective colonies to the Caribbean rendezvous. That the ministry entertained some doubt as to the assemblies’ willingness to make even that minimal provision of funds is shown by the drafting of secret instructions to the governors, authorizing any one of them with a balky assembly to draw upon credit to be provided by the commissioners of the navy. Finally, too, Americans who did enlist in any of the companies were promised that when the operation was concluded they would be free to return home, with transportation provided at royal expense.²⁵

As in the case of St. Augustine, recruiting thrived mainly on the glittering prospect of plunder. Commanders would get the most, of course, but every man involved down to the lowliest recruit expected a share, according to rank, as was customary in the armed forces at that time, and as the ministry had promised.²⁶ With this in view, numerous militia officers in the various colonies each set about trying to enlist enough men to form a company. The great majority of potential recruits preferred to serve only under an officer whom they knew, at least by reputation, and few if any who enlisted for the expedition thought they were making any commitment to the British army as such. Certainly all took very seriously the king’s official promise to return them home at the end of the venture. In general, the recruiting seems to have gone remarkably well, even in New England, which during Queen Anne’s War some thirty-eight years earlier had sent soldiers to the Caribbean with disillusioning results.²⁷ Blakeney reported from New York “a strong Disposition in the People of these Provinces to engage in the Expedition.” Lieutenant Governor Clarke quickly identified the reason—“the expectation of growing rich by the Booty, and by gifts of lands and houses.”²⁸ An observant woman in the same colony remarked that “our City is Very Lively with all these Officeiers and beating Up for Soldiers,” but added the prophetic warning that if the recruits should be disappointed in their expectations, the British would not again find the Americans “soe Readily Disposed to fallow the beat of a drum.”²⁹ Blakeney, who was learning fast, agreed. “From the highest to the lowest,” he observed, “the Inhabitants of these Provinces seem to set a great Value on themselves, and think a Regard is due to them, especially in the Assistance they are able to give the Mother Country on such Occasions; and, as they are a growing Power, should they be disappointed in what is promised them and which they expect, future Occasions of the like Nature may suffer for it.”³⁰ In sum, it was considered important that the provincial troops not undergo any systematic or serious mistreatment while serving with the British.

There is little evidence to suggest that the infusion of British regular lieutenants and sergeants caused any great difficulty, and every reason to believe that it actually did help the raw American troops develop an appearance that might be described as military. Benjamin Franklin reported in August, through the pages of his Pennsylvania Gazette, that four of his colony’s companies, “by the Care and Diligence of the British Lieutenants wherewith they are furnished, have made considerable Progress in the new Exercise.”³¹ This is not to say that the British had no difficulty with recruiting in Quaker Pennsylvania, a colony with an unequalled record of noncooperation in military ventures. To the usual reluctance of the pacifists was added a grievance that undoubtedly was experienced to some extent in all the colonies—the enlisting of indentured servants. Many a bored or lazy or abused or moonstruck male servant, eager to become both free and rich, took the opportunity to escape his legal obligation by sauntering up to the recruiting table and taking the king’s shilling. Masters, thus deprived of needed labor for which they had already contracted and paid, were furious, and appealed to the assembly for rectification, preferably the forced release and return of the servants. This situation, in Pennsylvania, provided the Quaker-dominated assembly with a justification for withholding needed funds from the proprietary governor until he had dealt properly with the complaint. The assembly demanded the return of all enlisted servants, which the governor refused, but he did manage to effect the release of some, and advised any master who still felt aggrieved to initiate legal action against the enlisting officer. This aggravating controversy did not prevent Pennsylvania from eventually contributing eight companies to Gooch’s American Foot, but it had the effect of engendering some sense of dissatisfaction in nearly everyone affected—governor, assemblymen, recruiting officers, masters, and even the servants. British regular officers may have had previous experience with the master-servant problem when recruiting in England; what was startlingly new to them in America was the aggressive stance of an elected provincial assembly in opposition to an appointed governor and officers bearing the king’s commission.³²

In many respects Gooch’s American Foot was an unusual regiment. Much larger than the normal British regiment, it was subdivided for administrative purposes into four battalions. The thirty-six companies came from eleven different colonies. Each company clung to its own provincial identity, with the common soldiers exclusively loyal to their own provincial officers, most of whom were from the large middle class, ambitious men on the make. Marching in the ranks were men and boys of diverse backgrounds, the great majority ordinary colonists together with some Indians and probably a few blacks. Some, undoubtedly, were from the outermost fringes of American colonial society, and not all volunteers. A modern study of the personnel in two of the Massachusetts companies has revealed that only 17 percent were immigrants. Less than 20 percent described themselves as laborers; nearly a third claimed to be artisans; the remainder, close to one-half of the total, were farmers. In all likelihood, a large proportion had been impelled to enlist by some form of economic hardship of the kind often experienced by the young in colonial society, including shortage of land and temporary unemployment with consequent debts.³³ During the fall of 1740, when reasonably ready, the various companies were embarked in chartered merchant vessels at various colonial seaports and carried to Jamaica where, at Kingston and Port Royal, the great British expeditionary force was assembling.

So then, off they went, some 3,500 of them altogether, hot for adventure and, especially, plunder. Arriving at Jamaica, a lush tropical island such as few of them had ever seen before, what did they find? A British military bureaucracy almost totally unprepared to receive them and integrate them smoothly into the team. Lacking tents (contrary to promise), the newcomers were forced to remain quartered on board the crowded transports, subsisting on a meager and monotonous diet scraped from rapidly dwindling shipboard stores, without the fresh vegetables needed for the maintenance of health. Their officers, venturing ashore in hope of purchasing fresh provisions for the men with whatever small supplies of cash they might have in pocket, were confronted in the markets with avaricious Jamaican hucksters demanding grossly inflated prices. One officer, obviously with something other than vegetables in mind, complained that “You cannot open your Mouth at an Ordinary under 4 or 5s. Sterling a Man.”³⁴ Whenever groups of the Americans were given shore leave they rambled, gawking, through unfamiliar streets, and almost invariably found their way to the taverns, where they proceeded to take on a full cargo. Hearing of this, and rightly concerned for both health and discipline, Admiral Vernon sent a reproving letter to Gooch, recommending that the transports be shifted to an anchorage more remote from the center of vice.³⁵

Inevitably, under such conditions, the Americans began to sicken, and some died. A Massachusetts company that had made a smart appearance before leaving Boston was now “quite dishearted.” According to another account, the men “lay dying like rotten Sheep,” a simile that spoke vividly to farmers back home. By early January, one-tenth of the provincials were on the sick list. Gooch reported that nine of his officers and approximately a hundred of his men had been buried in Jamaica since their arrival. Grumbling against those deemed responsible—the British high command—became epidemic.³⁶

Much of the immediate deprivation suffered by Gooch’s men might have been remedied if the American regiment had had ready access to adequate funds. As it was, however, not only was it difficult to purchase needed supplies, but there was little or no money available for the men’s wages. Adequate funding clearly was the responsibility of the British government. Who, then, was to blame for the shortage? There is no simple answer. We do know that two Jamaican merchants, Edward Manning and John Meriwether, had been designated by the ministry in London to serve as agents for transmitting funds to the army. When Blakeney, who had arrived with Gooch’s American Foot, applied to these agents for funds with which to pay the provincial soldiers, they coolly replied that as yet they had not received from London any authorization concerning the Americans, and accordingly declined. Manning did manage to come up with £2,000 in borrowed money, an amount grossly inadequate for such a large regiment. Later John Colebrooke, a British disbursing officer who investigated the problem, made serious allegations of unscrupulous financial manipulation and profiteering against Manning, Meriwether, and others, but the charges were not proved. All that the frustrated American officers knew was that somehow they were unable to collect from any responsible official the money so desperately needed.³⁷

Turning to the other side of the coin, we quickly discover that the British professional officers were somewhat less than favorably impressed with the general appearance of the American troops. After having inspected one of Gooch’s battalions, General Wentworth reported that “there are amongst ’em very good men, and some exceeding bad; they are very little acquainted with discipline, but if they prove, what they appear to be, men accustomed to fatigue, I am in hopes that they may do good service.”³⁸ Wentworth’s comment, read carefully, reveals the high command’s intention to use the Americans not as combat troops but as laborers, carrying burdens, clearing ground, and building earthworks for the regular regiments assaulting Spanish positions. Captain Charles Knowles of the navy was even less complimentary. “From the first review of the American Troops they were despised,” he wrote, adding that the colonial officers were of contemptibly low origin, having been “Blacksmiths, Taylors, Barbers, Shoemakers, and all the Bandity them Colonies affords: insomuch that the other part of the Army [the regulars] held them at Scorn.”³⁹ Gooch was not even accorded the courtesy of membership in the council of war, despite the size of his command.⁴⁰ In short, before the Americans had been in Jamaica two months, they were soured against the British, and the British against them, with a joint military operation yet to be launched.

And that wasn’t all. The fleet that had come out from England was not fully manned, and sickness among the sailors after arrival had further diminished the crews. Facing such a problem, the high command knew the remedy, as specified in standard royal instructions that had remained virtually unchanged over many years. Wentworth was authorized “to order, That the Soldiers, under your Command, shall mann the Ships, where there shall be Occasion for Them.”⁴¹ Vernon certainly needed more deckhands, and who more available than the unsoldierly Americans! Accordingly, the necessary orders were given, and soon groups of dismayed and angry provincial soldiers, who had enlisted to serve under certain colonial officers, were being separated from their units, conveyed under guard, and dumped on board various ships of war for an introduction to life in the Royal Navy. If Gooch and his officers protested, they did so in vain. It is certain that a very large proportion of Gooch’s American Foot was forced to serve on board ships of the Royal Navy at one time or another, often performing heavy labor under the supervision of hard-bitten officers accustomed to driving their subordinates like slaves. Surviving records indicate that on 31 March 1741 as many as 2,479 enlisted men of the American regiment actually were serving in the fleet. This kind of duty certainly was not what the Americans had anticipated when they enlisted to fight for king and country, glory and plunder!⁴²

In the meantime, the high command had agreed upon Cartagena, a heavily fortified seaport on the coast of the Spanish main. Generally believed to be a storehouse of wealth, its capture would not only undermine Spanish prestige throughout the Western Hemisphere, but also greatly enrich the victors. When all was in readiness, the great British armada, including the now-scattered American contingent, took its departure from Jamaica and set course for Cartagena 550 miles to the south, arriving nearby on 4 March 1741. From this time, under the joint leadership of Vernon and Wentworth, whose relationship already was deteriorating, the campaign proceeded with remarkable ineptitude, ponderosity, and pervasive futility. After considerable delay the regulars were landed, and some of the American troops together with numbers of black laborers were set to work ashore clearing ground for a camp. The site was flanked by two Spanish batteries that could have proved extremely troublesome, so an assault party consisting of about three hundred Virginians and some sailors was sent ashore to deal with the menace, and did so with commendable thoroughness. It was also reported that while the leaders of the army were discussing the best way of capturing a certain convent perched atop a strategically located hill, a party of roving Americans, no doubt in search of plunder, made their way up to the convent and soon sent down word that they were in control of the place! Such exploits may have enhanced the Americans’ reputation temporarily, but the glory was not to last.⁴³

On 30 March the council of war decided that Wentworth should be reinforced by landing “all such of the American Forces, as he should judge proper to be trusted on shore.” The reservation is significant, especially as the general himself remarked that from Gooch’s American Foot “much can not be expected.” Nevertheless, about a week later (which was fairly good time for this misnamed “expedition”) about 1,000 of the Americans were landed in time to participate in the attack on a Spanish strongpoint blocking the approach to Cartagena.⁴⁴ As expected, the Americans were given an auxiliary assignment as burden bearers. One group lugged bags of grenades. Another carried scaling ladders, and yet others bore wool packs, shovels, and mattocks. The approach was made in darkness, adding to the inevitable confusion. For a number of reasons the attack failed miserably; often mentioned later by the professionals as a contributing factor was the unsoldierlike performance of Gooch’s men. When Wentworth described to the ministry the unsuccessful attempt he did not forget to mention “the wretched Behaviour of the Americans, who had the Charge of the Scaling Ladders, working Tools, etc., which they threw down on the first Approach of Danger, and thereby occasioned the loss of the greatest part of ’em.” A junior officer who had participated in the attack also condemned “the Americans in whom nobody had any Confidence,” and who “run away as was expected.” “It must be allowed,” he said in exculpation of his own countrymen, “that hardly anybody, except the Americans who were without Arms, ever shewed the least Disposition to turn their Backs till they had Orders for it.”⁴⁵

Thereafter, the problems of camp and ship were more destructive than the enemy. Water was in short supply, and diminishing. Epidemic disease intensified. Graves proliferated. At last the British high command, beset by internal controversy, recognized the futility of further effort and ordered the regiments to abandon their miserable camp and reembark, which was accomplished on the night of 16—17 April. Among the last to be taken off was a rear guard of whom the majority were Americans.⁴⁶

On board the ships during the ensuing days when Vernon lingered off the coast, and later during the return voyage to Jamaica, conditions were appalling. Wrote one Briton to his brother in faraway London, “We are in a Mesirable condition for want of fresh provision, our meet is salt as brine, our bread as it lays on the table swarms with Maggots, and the water here fluxes us all. . . . We are well one day and Dead the next.”⁴⁷ By the time the fleet had dropped anchor again in the familiar waters off Port Royal, Wentworth’s army, including the bedraggled American regiment, was greatly reduced, as were the crews of Vernon’s ships. It was reported in the Boston Weekly News-Letter for 30 July-6 August 1741 that in the Massachusetts company commanded by Captain John Wins-low twenty-three of the men had perished before the return from Cartagena and twenty-five plus an ensign since, a casualty rate of approximately 50 percent.

Then a field-grade vacancy occurred in the American regiment. Instead of promoting one of the meritorious provincial captains, Wentworth gave the promotion to a non-American officer with less seniority. “Whatever Reasons the General may have for not Promoting any of the American Captains I am a stranger to them,” Gooch commented in a letter to the secretary of state. “I could not prevail with him to Advance any of my Own.”⁴⁸

In the meantime, the provincial soldiers considered the operation over, and were ready to head for home. So, what about that promised return? Once again the admiral began drafting soldiers from Gooch’s regiment to help fill out the depleted crews of the fleet. Such duty, the reluctant Americans realized, would lessen the possibility of an early discharge and might even involve a long voyage to another part of the world, but when Vernon demanded men and Wentworth acquiesced there was no practical way for Gooch or any other officer to block the transfer. By the end of May, according to one report, most of the chartered vessels that had brought Gooch’s companies from the various North American colonies had been granted clearance for the return voyage but, unhappily, the majority of the surviving provincial troops who yearned to sail with them were dispersed among the ships of the Royal Navy.⁴⁹

Thirteen American soldiers in particular had reason to feel victimized. They were enjoying themselves ashore, not in proper uniform, when one of Vernon’s press gangs pounced upon them and, despite vociferous protests, hauled them away for naval service. Later, when word of what had happened reached the officers of the American regiment, an attempt was made to have those men returned to their proper units, without success. In this case, even Wentworth was helpless. Eventually, the affair was brought to the attention of the ministry, which caused the following order, dated 16 October 1741, to be transmitted to Vernon:

This case underlines the fact that, unlike the thirteen soldiers out of uniform, American troops routinely transferred to duty in Vernon’s ships were not impressed into the Royal Navy. Rather, they were given a temporary assignment involving naval duty, while officially remaining members of Gooch’s American Foot. In practice, however, the distinction meant little, so long as they were retained on board ship.

On 12 December Wentworth informed the ministry that he actually did not know how many of the Americans were on temporary naval duty, but was painfully aware that most of them were in poor physical condition and that many had succumbed to disease. He feared that the continuing effort to gain more recruits in the North American colonies would be undermined by “the reports of the ill usage their people have received which must have been on board the Fleet, and would have been prevented had it been in my power.” A few days later the general, smarting under rebuffs from Vernon, reverted to the same topic. The Americans who served in the army, he said, “have in all respects been treated in the same manner with the other troops, nor have they been employed on any service not consistent with the conditions on which they were in-listed; but it has not been in my power to prevent some of them being sent to Europe [with the navy]; tho’ Brigadier Blakeny waited upon Mr. Vernon with his Majesty’s instructions to the Northern Colonys, but without effect.”⁵¹

There is strong evidence to suggest that the American troops serving in ships of the fleet were subjected to harsh treatment that extended, in some cases, to systematic abuse. Why this was so is not clear, but one may surmise that naval personnel with varying degrees of authority had remarkably low tolerance for Americans, especially those so audacious as to assert their rights. Notable cases of abuse are described in a memorial dated Kingston, 3 February 1742, addressed to Wentworth by the field officers of Gooch’s regiment.⁵² According to this document, drafts of American soldiers had been distributed among various ships, often unaccompanied by their own officers, which made it impossible for company commanders to submit accurate returns of their men. When HMS Dunkirk, for example, departed for England she had on board fifty-two Americans from sixteen different companies. Wentworth himself verified this complaint when he asserted that Vernon did not hesitate to move soldiers from ship to ship, as needed, “by which means, there are frequently, men without officers and officers without men.”⁵³

The American officers believed that their men were being put to the most gruelling tasks. “Many,” they said, “have been obliged to Submit to the most slavish part of heaving down men of War in order to be cleaned, a work which does not properly belong to them, besides doing the duty of their own Ships at the Pump.” Indeed, some had even been “removd from Ship to Ship to pump.”⁵⁴ Under these circumstances, there had been cases of men denied a regular place to sleep.

In those days, sailors commonly were subject to occasional blows from impatient or brutal superiors, and from this, too, the provincial troops were not exempt. Protests by any American officers present were of little avail. Captain Park Pepper of the first battalion testified that “he was several months on board the Rippon man of War on duty, with a Detachment of Sixty five Americans, that he had frequent Complaints made by his men of the ill treatment they received on board, but was never able to relieve them, tho’ frequently represented to the Officers of the Ship.” In particular he cited “the cruel usage Samuel Wilson of Capt Bushrods Company received from one Slaughter a midshipman ... by beating and kicking said Wilson in so barbarous a manner ’twas supposed he would have died.” Wilson subsequently did expire. One of Pepper’s own men was “kept working at the Chain pump five Glasses Successively on board the Prince Frederick, tho’ it was customary to relieve every hour, and in the running of the five glasses was so unmercifully beaten by Lieut Hughes of said Ship ... whilst naked at his Work that he was cutt into the side the mark whereof is very visible.” Some of the American soldiers said that they “had rather die than undergo such usage any longer.”⁵⁵

Wentworth, to his credit, took the memorial seriously and sent it along to the ministry with his own comment, charging that navy commanders refused to let army officers publish the Articles of War to the soldiers, or even discipline their own men. “Indeed,” he wrote, “the Gentlemen of the Sea, especially the Warrant Officers, do not spare to exert their Authority.”⁵⁶ Even the dead were sometimes victimized. Vernon would not release prize money credited to the deceased soldiers until the heirs had gone through a legal process that might cost more than the amount due. And the abuses went on, month after month, while the list of American dead, at sea and on shore, grew ever longer. Survivors wondered impatiently when, if ever, the British high command would honor the promise under which they had enlisted.⁵⁷

At long last, on 5 August 1742, approximately sixteen months after the futile attempt against Cartagena, the ministry ordered Vernon and Wentworth to dissolve the expedition, send home Gooch’s American Foot, and return to England.⁵⁸ It is not difficult to detect in these orders a tone of serious misgiving about the way the Americans had been treated by the professional forces, with especial regard to its potentially harmful effect whenever Britain again found need to call for colonial recruits. That this apprehension was quite realistic was clearly indicated almost four years later when Britain was attempting to raise an American expedition against Canada. The evidence is found in a letter of 13 June 1746 written to the Duke of Newcastle by one of the disgruntled survivors of the Cartagena expedition, none other than Lieutenant Governor William Gooch. In his letter to the eminent secretary of state, Gooch expressed his belief that it might not be easy to persuade American colonists to enlist for the new venture, “especially, if, as I am told, we are not to expect any of those men, who were on the last Expedition, they not having digested the hard Usage of being Broke in Jamaica, and sent Home without a farthing in their Pockets.”⁵⁹

Gooch’s American Foot was officially disbanded on 24 October 1742, leaving considerable numbers of its men in hospital at Jamaica, or in garrison elsewhere, or scattered among the fleet. How many of the approximately 3,500 who originally went down to the Caribbean actually survived to reach home is difficult to determine, but the number cannot have been more than a pathetic fraction of the total.⁶⁰

Those who did return seem to have slipped quietly back into the populace of the eleven colonies from which they had come, having brought home no glory and no riches—only a pocketful of bitter memories. They had not been very effective soldiers—or very good sailors, for that matter. Their motives for joining the expedition had been less patriotic than mercenary. So they came back badly disillusioned, to spread among their people their vivid recollections of British callousness, interservice quarreling, confusion and inefficiency at all levels, and a general atmosphere of incompetence and failure. At the same time, British professional military and naval personnel who had served with the Americans in the Caribbean were bringing back to their colleagues in both services, and their countrymen in general, further support for the hardening impression in England that provincial troops were stubbornly averse to discipline and cowardly in battle. Britons and colonists alike, it seems, were beginning to sense more clearly than ever the emergence of significant differences between the two peoples, in their attitudes, their responses, their perceptions of themselves and others. So it was that the great Cartagena expedition of 1740—42 contributed heavily not only to the mutually antagonistic views of British regulars and American provincials, which had been developing for many years, but also to the emergence of a self-conscious Americanism with almost incalculable import for the future of the British Empire.⁶¹

From 1743 to the end of the war in 1748, the garrison town of Frederica, Georgia, home base of Oglethorpe’s Forty-second Foot, provides an interesting as well as instructive case of civil-military relations. Oglethorpe himself had returned to England, leaving the regiment under the command of a grenadier captain, William Horton, a professional officer whose expansive concept of the army’s jurisdiction in the community invited serious conflict with civil authority. If the bailiff and the recorder of Frederica were not exaggerating, Horton and a number of the other officers of the regiment took advantage of their position to exercise domineering authority over civilians, thwarting the normal process of civil government, harassing local townsfolk including some officials, and abusing the women of the community. Contributing heavily to the prevailing animosity was a long, divisive legal quarrel over fees owed for the salvage of a French ship.⁶²

Horton, apparently, considered himself the chief magistrate of Frederica ex officio, for he insisted on retaining custody of the town seal. Recorder John Terry complained to the Trustees of Georgia that Horton “appropriates to him self here the Authority of a Prince (Nay Even that of Lewis the 14th) Absolutly Commanding and threatning the Magistrate and Recorder As his vassalls, or Laquais and Reprimands our Counstables for Daring to Execute the Duty of their Office, ... he has Deprived this place of a Civill Goverment.”⁶³ According to Bailiff John Calwell, “Horton . . . takes upon him to order and command both Civill and Military Insulting Magestrate and Recorder. not suffering us to Act or proceed even against housbrakers or Fellons but ordering all Crymes to be tryed by Reigmentell Court Martials . . . the Freeholders and strangers that come here not suffered to go about their buisiness without procuring passes from the military.”⁶⁴ These detailed complaints from enraged and probably biased civil officials do provide strong evidence that the military in Frederica was indeed overstepping the bounds. Horton, presumably, was acting on the assumption that all of Frederica was a military post under his command, but if that were indeed the case, why had Oglethorpe earlier allowed the civil administration to be established? Whatever the answer, the Anglo-American tension at Frederica certainly was extreme.

Not unexpectedly, we find in the midst of this same roiling quarrel substantial evidence of the more commonplace kinds of friction between civilians and military personnel, familiar to most garrison towns of that era. Officers and soldiers were accused of insulting, beating, robbing, and raping some of the inhabitants. The victims, it was charged, often found it impossible to obtain redress or justice because of military intervention. Recorder Terry summed up the situation in a terse comment: “There is No Justice in Frederica—Nor Never will be so Long as Magistrates will have places or offices In or Under the Military.”⁶⁵ After Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Heron assumed acting command of the Forty-second Foot in 1747, the tension continued, with further evidence that the military power in Frederica was taking maximum advantage of its dominant position in a small community far out on a remote frontier.⁶⁶ In Georgia as well as Virginia, New York, and New England, by the middle of the eighteenth century a man wearing the red coat was seldom viewed as a friend.

Anglo-American friction in the southern colonies and the Caribbean during the 1740s is especially significant, for it reveals that northern colonists were not the only Americans proving troublesome for British administrators and military commanders. At St. Augustine in 1740, Carolinians and Georgians feuded with each other, while both groups found cause to resent the attitude and behavior of the Royal Navy. In the Caribbean in 1740-42, provincial troops from many colonies shared hardships in a botched campaign that made virtually everyone look bad. If New Englanders groused and shirked, so did Pennsylvanians and Virginians, and the British regulars damned them all. Possibly most important is the fact that the men of the various colonial contingents were sometimes intermingled, with ample opportunity to become acquainted, discuss their condition, and share their bitterness. Nor were the disease-ravaged soldiers and sailors the only Americans to suffer during those difficult times. Wartime controls imposed by royal governors and commanders affected nearly all aspects of colonial trade and shipping, oftentimes to the detriment of the very people who normally might have been most supportive of imperial authority. More than ever, there was temptation for southerners as well as other Americans to question British benevolence, fairness, and probity. Undoubtedly, most Americans wanted to be loyal subjects, but the enormous strains of war were having their inevitable effect from one end of the colonies to the other.