Situated near the York River, across the street from the American Revolution Museum of Yorktown, sits a monument commemorating the French soldiers that fought, bled, and for some, gave their lives during the siege.
A few years ago, or 1421 days ago to be exact, I pulled over into the parking lot for that monument, walked up, and gave a cursory look at the names and the wording. I did not speak or read French–much to the detriment of my French teacher in high school I must say–but determined there that I would. Later that same evening I downloaded the language learning app Duolingo and started a streak, which if you had not guessed already, has reached 1421 straight days.
I recently went back to that monument and could at least interpret enough of the wording to understand the gist. Good start.
The monument in question Author collection
I now take that rudimentary language foundation capability on the road. Where may you ask?
Screenshot to confirm streak
Next week, after deciding approximately a whole 10 days ago, that following the wedding of a cousin in Connecticut, I would drive the remaining 7 hours to Quebec, Canada. Impromptu? Kind of. Just have to remember to pack my passport!
A bucket list item of mine in the history column is to see the famous Plains of Abraham, from one of the climactic battles of the French and Indian (Seven Years’ War), fought 267 years ago this month, on September 13. I also want to walk the last footsteps of General Richard Montgomery as he led an unsuccessful attack by the fledging rebellious American military against the British during the first winter of the American Revolution. I may have missed the anniversary but at least I am within the same year-ish (since the battle was fought on New Year’s Eve 1775).
Side note, Maryland honors Montgomery by a county named in his honor, one of, if not the first, place, county, town, etc. to be named for a person not related to the British monarchy, aristocracy, or gentry. Along with Washington, the two counties in Maryland were siphoned off of Frederick in 1776.
Stay tuned next, week to Emerging Revolutionary War’s Facebook page as I will go live there.
And then I will retreat to a Quebec cafe…or brewery and test out my French…so if you have a suggestion of a can’t miss place, drop a comment below!
Join us this Sunday at 7pm as we ERW authors and historians Dan Welch and Mark Maloy continue their 250th anniversary coverage of the New York Campaign. They’ll chat with us about the events following the Continentals retreat from Long Island, Nathan Hale, the Turtle, the Peace Conference, and of course the fighting at Kip’s Bay and Harlem Heights. Welch and Maloy’s new book, “Conquer or Die” will be available this fall. This Revelry will be LIVE on our Facebook and You Tube pages at 7pm.
The American Revolution is often remembered through the familiar lens of successful campaigns and their contributing commanders: General George Washington at Yorktown, Virginia, and General Horatio Gates at Saratoga, New York, to name two of the most significant. Yet the Revolution was an international conflict fought across a much wider geographic area than just along the eastern seaboard of North America. In An Underappreciated Victory, Stephen L. Kling, Jr. and Kristine L. Sjostrom seek to restore one of these overlooked campaigns to its proper place in the history of the war. Their study of Bernardo de Gálvez’s 1779 Mississippi River campaign demonstrates how Spain, despite pursuing its own strategic interests, contributed materially to the defeat of Britain and how Gálvez’s leadership produced significant results with remarkably limited resources.
The authors begin by establishing the strategic importance of Spanish Louisiana and the Mississippi River Valley. Following Spain’s entry into the war against Britain in 1779, Louisiana became both a potential target for British operations and a valuable base from which Spain could threaten British possessions. New Orleans was particularly vulnerable. British control of posts along the Mississippi posed a danger to Spanish interests while also threatening communications and commerce throughout the region. Rather than remain on the defensive, Gálvez recognized an opportunity to seize the initiative.
It is in this decision that the authors make one of their strongest arguments about Gálvez’s leadership. His forces were hardly overwhelming, and the campaign presented formidable logistical challenges. Distance, weather, disease, difficult terrain, transportation problems, and uncertain intelligence, all complicated operations. Gálvez nevertheless chose an offensive strategy. His willingness to act before the British could concentrate their forces became one of the campaign’s defining characteristics. The resulting operations against British positions, culminating in the capture of Baton Rouge and other posts, demonstrated the effectiveness of surprise, mobility, intelligence, and decisive leadership.
Kling and Sjostrom are very effective in showing that the campaign cannot be understood solely through its engagements. Logistics and geography receive significant attention, revealing the extent to which environmental conditions shaped military possibilities along the Mississippi River. The campaign’s success therefore becomes more impressive when measured against the obstacles continuing to confront Gálvez. His achievement was not simply that he defeated British forces; it was that he managed to organize and sustain an offensive in an environment that severely restricted the movement and supply of armies.
Another of the book’s greatest strengths is its use of multinational sources. By incorporating Spanish, British, and German accounts, the authors move beyond the predominantly Anglo-American perspective that has traditionally dominated Revolutionary War narratives. These sources allow them to reconstruct events from competing viewpoints and provide greater insight into the decisions made by both sides. Their documentary approach also strengthens the case for reconsidering Gálvez’s campaign as a serious military operation rather than an isolated episode on the margins of the Revolution.
The book’s greatest historiographical contribution, however, lies in its reassessment of Spain’s role in the American Revolution. Spain did not enter the war solely to assist the American colonies; it had territorial, commercial, and geopolitical objectives of its own. Nevertheless, those objectives frequently aligned with the interests of the American revolutionaries. Gálvez’s campaign illustrates how Spanish military operations diverted British attention and resources while weakening British control of the Gulf Coast and Mississippi Valley. The authors therefore broaden the traditional interpretation of the Revolution from an Anglo-American struggle supported by France into a genuinely international conflict.
The study is not without potential limitations. This book is a deep and exhaustive study of a particular subsect of war, designed to be the volume on this aspect. Similarly, the authors’ admiration for Gálvez occasionally raises the question of whether they attribute his successes too heavily to exceptional leadership rather than to a combination of favorable circumstances, British weaknesses, and Spanish strategic interests. Nevertheless, the evidence presented makes a convincing case that Gálvez exercised considerable initiative and understood the advantages of striking quickly against dispersed British positions.
Ultimately, An Underappreciated Victory shows that the importance of a military campaign cannot always be measured by the size of participants or soldiers. Gálvez’s 1779 Mississippi campaign involved relatively modest forces compared with the armies that fought at Saratoga or Yorktown, yet its strategic consequences were considerably greater than its obscurity might suggest. Kling and Sjostrom provide a valuable reconstruction of the campaign while challenging readers to reconsider the geographic and international dimensions of the American Revolution. Their study establishes Gálvez not merely as a peripheral Spanish commander but as an important participant in the broader struggle against Britain. In doing so, An Underappreciated Victory makes a persuasive case that the campaign—and Gálvez himself—deserve a more prominent place in the history of the American Revolution.
THGC Publishing, St. Louis, MO 2026 634 pages, including images $50.00
The New York Campaign had been building for over year by August 1776. In July 1775, previous British commander of forces in America, Thomas Gage, had sent a request to his superiors to be allowed to leave Boston and begin a new campaign in New York. Following Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill, Gage’s force remained bottled up and besieged in and around Boston and Charleston. When word of approval of Gage’s plan reached Boston, so too did orders relieving him of command. Before he departed for England in October 1775, he met with his successor, William Howe, and greatly stressed the importance of moving the theater of war to New York. Howe would follow Gage’s preplanning and approval to the letter, including waiting until the spring to began the shift in the army’s base of operations. Howe’s timetable, however, was moved up after the arrival of Henry Knox’s artillery train and the placement of guns on Dorchester Heights. On March 17, 1776, Howe and 11,000 troops and Loyalist citizens sailed for Nova Scotia. Foreshadowing the British departure and the location of the next campaign in a letter written two days before they set sail, Col. Joseph Reed, later George Washington’s adjutant-general, correctly asserted, “If Howe should leave Boston, we expect he will make for New York; and, at all events, we look upon that as one of the scenes of the summer business.”
Meanwhile, George Washington also looked to New York as the next seat of this growing conflict. In January he sent Charles Lee to begin laying out a position for the Continental Army to take once it shifted southward from Boston. Not long after Lee arrived in February 1776 he assured the Committee of Safety that even though he could see no way to make New York into a “tenable fortification” he could make a position strong enough to be “a most advantageous field of battle” that would “cost the enemy many thousands of men to get possession of it.” Just two months later, on April 13, Washington and the Continental Army arrived.
The Continental Army commander had no other choice than to do what he could in New York. There was immense political pressure on Washington not to abandon it, the Congress believing it had high political and psychological value. Many in Congress believed abandoning it would demoralize the Patriot cause and swell the morale of the Loyalist population in the city and colony thereof. Furthermore, it was a central location along the Atlantic coast and a conduit of communication and supplies between New England and the southern colonies via the Hudson River. Furthermore, the Hudson River/Lake Champlain corridor remained a vital passage to Canada and the Great Lakes. New York was also a bustling economic hub, the second largest urban center in the colonies, with a port, shipbuilding, and deep-water harbor had immense naval and trade value. Widely considered as the “key to the continent,” Washington would have a difficult task defend the city, it’s deep water port, and the numerous navigable waterways; all reasons the British wanted to seize the city in their effort cutoff New England from the middle and southern colonies. Writing to his brother, John Augustine Washington, between May 31 and June 4, 1776, he confessed, “We expect a very bloody Summer of it at New York . . . & I am sorry to say that we are not, either in Men, or Arms, prepared for it.”
Finally, after several months of resupplying and refitting his army in Nova Scotia, William Howe and his command arrived on Staten Island, unopposed, in June 1776. Pvt. Daniel McCurtin, 1st Company of Maryland Rifles, recorded the British arrival, noting he saw, “the whole Bay was full of shipping as ever it could be. I declare that I thought all London was afloat.”Over the coming weeks he would be joined by his brother, Richard, with large numbers of reinforcements, ships, transports, supplies, and Hessians. Although the two brothers leaned into their role of peace commissioners, attempting to end this growing rebellion through pardons and not bloodshed in July, by August, with no peaceful resolution insight, military preparations moved forward.
On August 20, 1776, British troops began loading onto ships and transports from their Staten Island camps, and 250 years ago today, August 22, 1776, the first British troops landed on Long Island at Denyse’s Ferry. Howe had chosen this site for its richness and crops and plentiful livestock in which to supply his army. Still unsure of Howe’s intentions, and constantly worried about his flank and rear being turned by the British Navy, Washington had spread his army dangerously thin across several islands with waterways separating reinforcements should the need for them arise. Thus, on August 22, Washington only had 3,000 men, John Nixon and Nathaniel Heard’s brigades, and some Long Island militia in which to contest the landing. All they could really do was raise the alarm. By the end of the day 20,000 British troops were on Long Island. Only time would tell, at least for Washington, whether or not this would be Howe’s main push or simply a diversion to another beachhead and main strike.
Learn more about the 1776 New York Campaign with ERW’s forthcoming release, Conquer or Die: The 1776 New York Campaign, by Dan Welch and Mark Maloy. Pre-order here!
Join us this Sunday at 7pm as we welcome author and historian Michael C. Hardy. Hardy, best known for his many Civil War and North Carolina history published works, he’ll chat with us about the American Revolution in southern Appalachia and the raw and uncertain conflicts that occurred there between Patriots, Loyalists, and Indians. Hardy’s new book “Western North Carolina and Eastern Tennessee in the American Revolution” is now available and worth a read. There are few that know North Carolina history and can tell a story quite as good as Mike can. This Revelry is pre-recorded and will post to our Facebook and You Tube pages at 7pm.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest historian Tom Elmore.
Throughout history many battles have been decided by little things, sometimes even before the battle. This is true of the Battle of Kings Mountain in South Carolina whose outcome was influenced by a little-known battle about thirty miles away on July 26, 1780, at Fort Thicketty in modern-day Cherokee County, S.C.
The fort was built circa 1769 when local farmer David Anderson converted his barn into a blockhouse outpost. Originally called Fort Anderson, it became known as Fort Thicketty (or Thicketty Fort) after a near-by creek that had unusually thick vegetation along its banks. Though the fort was intended to defend the area population from hostile Native Americans, it mainly saw action against outlaw gangs.[i]
In early June 1780, the fort was occupied by Captain Patrick Moore and his Loyalist followers. Moore was born in Virginia in 1750. Since 1768 he had lived about a mile southwest of the fort along Thicketty Creek. He was described as a fierce, intimidating man who stood six foot seven.[ii]
Moore’s men used the fort as a base of operations for raiding Patriot’s homes and farms. One historian described his men as “politically neither British nor American. They were simply robbers…preying upon defenseless women and children.” Another historian noted that “[Fort Thicketty] became a great place of resort and protection for Tory parties. They would sally forth and plunder Whig families in every direction – so that women and children were often left without clothing, shoes, bread, meat, or salt.” [iii]
ERW is pleased to welcome back guest author Marianne Holdzkom.
July 4, 2026, was a big moment for the United States. This day marked the 250th anniversary of the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, what many call the birthday of the United States. As people were making plans, the question was always, “Where do you want to spend this important anniversary?” There were certainly many fantastic choices: New York City, Boston, Philadelphia, and Colonial Williamsburg, just to name a few. Yet I have known for a number of years where I would be. It was a no-brainer. I would spend that day in Quincy, Massachusetts. There is no place else for me. Not only was this 4th the 250th birthday of the Declaration of Independence, but it also marked the 200th anniversary of the deaths of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson—fifty years to the day that the Declaration was adopted by the Continental Congress. It was that anniversary that drew me to Quincy. As a John Adams scholar, I was compelled to be in the town where he lived and where he died. I needed to pay my respects. While others were deciding what fireworks display to see, I was on a mission: Quincy or bust!
Even when Adams was serving abroad, his hometown was never far from his thoughts. “I know not the Reason but there is some Strange Attraction between the North Parish in Braintree [now Quincy] and my Heart,” he wrote to Abigail. “It is a remarkable Spot. It has vomited Forth more Fire than Mount Etna. It has produced three mortals, Hancock and two Adams’s, who have, with the best Intentions in the World, set the World in a blaze.”[1] He was writing from Paris at the time. Now, as the locals will tell you, Quincy is full of history that goes well beyond the Adamses. From the early years of the Massachusetts Bay colony, this region has been one of the historically richest areas of the country. Even in the early colonial period, the South Shore was the center of controversy with the antics of Thomas Morton and some of the Puritan disputes of the 17th century taking place here. The city also honors the history of the Quincy family for which the town was named. In addition, Quincy is the birthplace of both Dunkin’ Donuts and Howard Johnson. There is also a Quincy Quarry and Granite Workers Museum in the city.[2] There is no doubt that the city’s history is fascinating. Yet the attraction for many is always the remarkable Adams family. In this Semiquincentennial year, when Americans are remembering their founding moment, many of us came to Quincy to honor John Adams.
My husband, Dr. Albert J. Churella, ever the good sport about my John Adams fandom, had secured hotel reservations for us in my home from home in Quincy. The hotel is conveniently located across the street from the Quincy North T Station and makes it easy to get around Quincy on the Red Line. On the evening of July 3, after settling into our hotel, we rode the two T stops to Quincy Center. From here, it is a short walk to the Hancock-Adams Common, United First Parish Church, the Adams National Historical Park Visitors Center, and the Quincy Historical Society. As we strolled to dinner, I took the time to pose with the statues of John Adams and Abigail Adams on the Common. We also visited the new John Quincy Adams statue which I had never seen. This statue and the little park surrounding it are nice additions!
The author with Quincy’s new statue of John Quincy Adams
On the morning of July 4, the big day, we arrived early at the Adams National Historical Park. We knew the temperatures would soar, and the earlier we arrived the better chance we had of getting into the historic homes. Here, we met Mr. Scott McKinley, a fellow Adams family fan, and a talented voice actor as well as scholar. It was a delight to meet him and share part of the day with him.
The author (right) with Scott McKinley at Peacefield
As the Visitors Center opened, we took our place in line with the other people who had decided to spend part of their day with the Adamses. We were fortunate to get a condensed tour of Peacefield in the morning as the temperatures in the house were becoming unbearable. Unfortunately, I could not see the one room that really mattered to me on that day. Reportedly, John Adams died in his upstairs study, and we were not allowed to go there due to the heat. The best thing I could do was take a picture of the staircase. However, according to our guide, one of the staff members at the park is doing some research into the exact place of John Adams’s death. He is not convinced that it happened in the study so stay tuned. I am still grateful that I was able to be in the house, however briefly.
Staircase in Peacefield to the study
One of the special events the park planned for that day was a public reading of the Declaration of Independence. Hilary Miller, Chief of Interpretation at the park, arranged for volunteers from the audience to read portions of the Declaration. Of course, all three of us in our party participated. It was a great way to remind ourselves of the power of those words. While I was disappointed that there was no programming surrounding the death of John Adams on that day (that happened the following weekend), I was happy to be a part of this nod to the Declaration of Independence.
I had several nice moments that day at Adams. I was happy to see, for example, that the park is still selling my book, Remembering John Adams: The Second President in History, Memory and Popular Culture. For an academic author, seeing one’s book on sale is always a win! Yet the nicest gift of all that day came from Hilary Miller. She remembered me from past visits and had something to share with me. Miller had requested a Cameo Video from William Daniels for her team as part of their July 4th celebration. She was kind enough to show it to me! The 99-year-old actor, John Adams to so many of us, recorded a wonderful tribute to the park and thanked them for all they are doing to preserve the legacy of John Adams and his family. I was touched that Hilary wanted to share that with me, knowing how much I would appreciate it.
Albert Churella, the author, and Scott McKinley
Finally, that afternoon, we arrived at United First Parish Church, or The Church of the Presidents. The church was completed in 1828 and built in part from granite donated by John Adams. He was a life-long member of the congregation here and wished to see a “Stone Temple” built to replace the wooden meeting house in his beloved town. He, along with Abigail, John Quincy Adams, and Louisa Catherine Adams, are buried in the church’s crypt. This is where I had to be, more than any other place that day. As we met up with Bill Westland, the delightful church historian who has been a tremendous help to me in my research, I prepared myself for my visit to John Adams’s grave. I knew that I would not have a moment alone there. That just doesn’t happen although I have never requested it. I was just hoping to be able to shut out everything else and pay my respects. John Adams’s words were swirling around in my brain. “Posterity! You will never know, how much it cost the present Generation, to preserve your Freedom! I hope you will make a good Use of it. If you do not, I shall repent in Heaven, that I ever took half the Pains to preserve it.”[3] “Yet through all the gloom, I can see the rays of Ravishing Light and Glory.”[4] Meanwhile, my husband was taking pictures of me so that I could remember the moment. This was my chance to pay my respects. He understood how important that was to me as did Scott.
As I was standing by John Adams’s tomb, another woman came up and said that she was there to pay her respects and thank him for his service. I was touched by this and didn’t mind sharing the moment with her. Then I had to try and put into words what I was feeling. I looked down at the tomb and asked Mr. Adams, “What do we do now?” The woman standing with me thought that was a very good question. I asked this question because I have been struggling to see those rays of ravishing light and glory lately. I love the optimism and hope in the statement, and I remind myself daily that if John Adams could say this given what he was up against then surely I can, too. Still, I needed his help that day. However, we did not get an answer to my question. Silence.
When you spend as much time studying a historical figure as I have John Adams, you believe that you can know how they would respond to questions or statements in conversation. I know what I wanted to communicate, and I was only getting started. Next, I said to John, “I’ve done the best I can for you and your legacy. Thank you for everything.” It was then that I could imagine a reply. “Thank you, Madam. And I have done the best I can for you. For all of you! What do you do now, you ask? That is up to you. I can do no more but to wish you well!” Fair enough, President Adams. Message received. And thank you!
Communicating with John on July 4, 2026.
Marianne Holdzkom, Professor of History at Kennesaw State University, is the author of Remembering John Adams: The Second President in History, Memory and Popular Culture. She is also an Adams Memorial Foundation Scholar.
[2] For the early history of this region of Massachusetts, see Nina Sankovitch, American Rebels: How the Hancock, Adams and Quincy Families Fanned the Flames of Revolution (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2020); For exhibits and resources concerning all aspects of Quincy history, visit the Quincy Historical Society and Museum, https://quincyhistory.org/; For more info on Quincy granite, see the Quincy Quarry and Granite Workers Museum, http://www.quincyquarrymuseum.org/
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes guest writer, historian Kenneth Bancroft
Leesburg, Virginia. Tuesday, July 9, 1776. “…News that the Sanhedrim (1) had declared the thirteen united Colonies Free and Independent States. That this was intended by the Northern Colonies from the first, I am well convinced…” (2) These are not the words one expects when talking about the Declaration of Independence, but to a 26-year-old entrepreneurial Englishman caught in a revolution that he neither wanted nor supported, this was the worst news ever. (3)
The Journals of Nicholas Cresswell is an informative source on the Revolutionary War from what could be considered a ‘Tory’ point of view. It is a personal account that shows that the struggle for freedom was not just on the battlefield but also in the streets and homes at the end of the colonial era. Nicholas Cresswell was an outsider from the moment he stepped on American soil in 1774 and heard news of the siege of Boston, noting that the colonists “talk as if they were determined to dispute the matter with the Sword.” (4) For two years, Cresswell observed the American colonies descend into rebellion, “The people here are Liberty mad, nothing but war is thought of.” (5)
When the colonies officially separated, Cresswell felt despair and anger instead of hope. Cresswell’s intention was to set up life as a farmer, but misfortune and bad timing foiled his plans. He blamed the “cursed Rebellion” for turning this “earthly paradise to a Hell upon terra firma.” (6) Constantly under the suspicion of the local committees tasked with enforcing the Continental Association as a suspected ‘Tory’ spy, he grew to despise the Continental Congress as vile and hypocritical. “The Congress under the fallacious pretense of nursing the tender plant, liberty, which was said to thrive so well in American soil, have actually torn it up by the very root.” (7)
Cresswell could not help himself and always got into political discussions in the bars and houses of Virginia. “At Dinner had a long dispute with Doctor Jacson about the origin of the present proceedings…Most of the company agrees that I had the better of the argument. But never so much embarrassed in my whole life.” (8) He even chided General Washington as a yeoman farmer “Negro-driver” (9) and a and was befuddled that he kept evading General Howe. Ultimately, he did decide that he was a decent General.
In the end, Cresswell decided that Virginia, for all of its bounty, was lost and returning to England was his only option. After three years of surviving the storm of a revolution, he made his slip to British lines. While technically not a Loyalist, (10) Cresswell provides critical details on the otherwise missing narrative of Loyalism in the colonies, especially Virginia. His last act dramatically involved him in a plot to free English sailors and soldiers from a jail in Alexandria Virginia. Some of the conspirators were well known merchants in Alexandria. (11) Thankfully Cresswell’s account exists to inform how a revolution hits the home front and the profundity of independence at that time.
Emerging Revolutionary War welcomes back guest historians Lori Amos Doss & Jarred Marlowe
Part 2: A Veteran in the Southern Campaign and the Road to Yorktown
In early 1781, after years of nearly continuous service, James Johnston finally set out for home on furlough. It must have been a long-awaited journey. Yet before he could reach his destination, events once again pulled him back into the war.
While passing through Prince Edward County, Virginia, Johnston learned of the difficult situation facing General Nathanael Greene in the South. British forces under Lord Cornwallis were pressing hard, and Greene’s army was in poor condition. Supplies were scarce, clothing was inadequate, and many of the soldiers were inexperienced militia. Previous defeats at Charleston and Camden had weakened the Continental presence in the region, leaving Greene with a force that struggled to match the discipline of British regulars.
Johnston understood the danger. Rather than continue home, he took action. Drawing on his experience in the northern campaigns, he recruited twelve veteran soldiers who had completed their terms of service. Together, they traveled south to join Greene. Their arrival was timely. Greene assigned them as adjutants to officers commanding Virginia militia, where their role was to help bring order and discipline to units that often lacked both.
Time was short. Cornwallis was advancing, and a major confrontation was approaching. Johnston worked to train the militia as best he could, instilling in them the habits and expectations of seasoned soldiers. The results became clear at the Battle of Guilford Court House on March 15, 1781.
Greene arranged his army in three lines. The North Carolina militia formed the first, the Virginia militia the second, and Continental regulars the third. When the British advanced, the North Carolina militia broke quickly, some retreating without firing. The Virginia militia, however, held their ground. They fought with determination and inflicted significant casualties on the advancing British.
Although Greene eventually ordered a withdrawal, the battle came at a high cost for Cornwallis. His army suffered heavy losses, weakening his campaign in the South. Later observers noted the steadiness of the Virginia militia, and some accounts credited Johnston and his fellow veterans with helping prepare them for that moment.
After the battle, Johnston returned home at last, reuniting briefly with his family after years away. But the war was not yet finished, and his rest did not last long. Within days, he learned that Lafayette was now operating in Virginia and facing British forces under William Phillips and Benedict Arnold. Once again, Johnston chose to return to service.
July 9-10, 2026 marks the 250th anniversary of the actions at Gwynn’s Island, Virginia. Located in Mathews County, Gwynn’s Island became the last post that Lord Dunmore and his small force of Loyalists and British Regulars could hold in Virginia. The battle marked the end of Lord Dunmore’s military campaign in Virginia and helped secure Patriot control of the colony. Lord Dunmore’s force consisted of Loyalists, British soldiers, and former slaves who had accepted his promise of freedom in exchange for military service.
Thomas Jefferson drew this sketch of Gwynn’s Island in July 1776, Library of Congress
After several raids along Virginia’s coastline, Dunmore established a base on Gwynn’s Island in the Chesapeake Bay. Patriot leaders viewed the island as a threat because it allowed British forces to launch attacks on nearby communities. Brigadier General Andrew Lewis led approximately 1,200 Virginia militia to confront Dunmore’s forces. Lewis positioned artillery on the mainland opposite the island and began a bombardment on July 9, 1776. The Patriot cannon fire damaged British defenses, destroyed supplies, and caused significant casualties.
Disease also weakened Dunmore’s camp. Smallpox had spread among his soldiers and supporters, reducing their ability to defend the island effectively. Facing continuous artillery fire and the effects of illness, Dunmore decided to abandon Gwynn’s Island. During the night of July 9–10, British ships evacuated the remaining troops, leaving the Patriots in control. Dunmore’s force suffered minimal casualties during the battle (including Lord Dunmore suffering a minor injury when his ship was struck), but they were decimated by the diseases that plagued his force. About 400 to 500 former slaves people in the Ethiopian Regiment and roughly 150 white loyalists died of disease. Many dying were left behind when Dunmore left the island. The reported conditions on the island were horrible.
The victory at Gwynn’s Island effectively ended organized British and Loyalist efforts to regain control of Virginia during the early years of the Revolution. Although British naval raids continued along the coast, Dunmore never returned to lead another campaign in the colony. The battle strengthened Patriot confidence, protected Virginia from an immediate British threat, and allowed the colony to focus on supporting the broader struggle for American independence. Today, the island is still a rural recreational retreat for many, recently interpretation about the battle and its history have been installed to tell the important story of what took place there in July 1776.
Emerging Revolutionary War Era 