Revolutionary Road Trip: Ninety Six, SC

In our last Revolutionary Road Trip stop, we visited the site of the Battle of Musgrove Mill, fought on (August 19, 1780) Check out the blog recap on Musgrove Mill here. This victory was the crucial spark that triggered a shift in momentum, laying the groundwork for the “turn of the tide” at Kings Mountain. It was there, on October 7, 1780, that the “Overmountain Men” from present-day Tennessee, North Carolina, Virginia, and South Carolina defeated Major Patrick Ferguson and his Loyalist forces.

Today, we’re heading to Ninety Six National Historic Site to dive into the history of this vital frontier settlement. Ninety Six holds a unique place in the Southern Campaign: it was the site of the first land battle of the Revolutionary War in South Carolina (November 19–21, 1775) and later became the scene of the war’s longest field siege (May 22 – June 19, 1781).

During that 1781 siege, Continental figures like Nathanael Greene, “Light-Horse Harry” Lee, and the brilliant engineer Thaddeus Kosciuszko spent weeks attempting to dislodge the British from their fortified Star Redoubt. While the British successfully defended the fort, it proved to be a pyrrhic victory; they abandoned and burned the settlement just weeks later in July 1781, effectively ending British operations in the South Carolina backcountry.

In this post, we’ll explore the settlement of Ninety Six and its strategic importance—from the first shots fired in 1775 to the embers that burned in 1781—and why this site is a “must-visit” on your South Carolina history tour.

Early History and European Settlement

For centuries, the land around Ninety Six was home to the Cherokee and other Indigenous peoples who established an extensive network of trading paths through the region. European traders later named the settlement Ninety Six, believing it lay exactly ninety-six miles from the Cherokee town of Keowee—though the actual distance is closer to seventy-eight miles. The community’s first permanent European resident and founder was the trader Robert Gouedy, who settled there in the early eighteenth century.

Strategically located at the crossroads of numerous trading paths and frontier roads, Ninety Six linked the Great Wagon Road to the primary inland route to Charleston. This geography transformed the settlement into a bustling trading hub and the final gateway to the western wilderness.

In its early years, the Cherokee and European traders such as Gouedy enjoyed a period of relative peace. That fragile stability was shattered during the French and Indian War. Although the Cherokee initially allied with the British, tensions escalated when warriors returning from service in Virginia took horses they considered rightful compensation for their service. Colonial officials framed this as theft, but within Cherokee and broader Indigenous diplomatic tradition, such compensation was customary and legitimate. The British failure to honor these expectations—combined with violent retaliation by frontier settlers, who killed nearly forty Cherokee—marked a profound breakdown in cross-cultural understanding.

Rather than addressing this injustice, South Carolina Governor William Henry Lyttelton imposed an embargo on gunpowder sales to the Cherokee in 1759, believing economic pressure would curb frontier violence and force compliance. Instead, the ban threatened Cherokee survival by restricting their ability to hunt and defend their communities. A series of violent incidents followed, erupting into widespread frontier warfare. The crisis reached its breaking point in 1760 when British forces massacred a delegation of Cherokee leaders being held hostage at Fort Prince George, near present-day Clemson. In response to broken treaties and bloodshed, Cherokee warriors launched retaliatory raids, attacking Ninety Six twice that same year.

In the wake of these assaults, settlers increasingly relied on British military protection, fostering a deeper loyalty to the Crown than was found in many other backcountry communities. These early trials transformed Ninety Six into a fortified stronghold and hardened its population, setting the stage for the intense, localized “civil war” between Loyalists and Patriots that would later define the region during the American Revolution.

By the 1770s, Ninety Six had grown into a major backcountry hub, serving as both a trading post and a seat of regional government. The settlement included a courthouse, jail, taverns, a blacksmith, and other essential trades, supporting roughly a dozen families in the immediate area while drawing a steady flow of travelers, merchants, and legal business from across the district. Sites such as Musgrove Mill—though located nearly forty miles away—were part of this interconnected backcountry network of trade, goods, and communication that bound the region together.

Loyalist Leaning: A Backcountry Divided

It was not only the threat of frontier violence that shaped life in Ninety Six, but also a deep and lasting resentment toward the political seat of power in Charleston. To the wealthy planter elite along South Carolina’s coast, anything more than fifty miles inland—including much of the future Midlands—was dismissed as a wild and lawless backcountry.

The residents of Ninety Six felt systematically overlooked and neglected. When Cherokee attacks struck the region in 1760, many settlers believed the Charleston government had effectively abandoned them. Compounding this frustration, throughout the mid-1760s all legal matters—including land deeds, court cases, and official petitions—had to be resolved in Charleston, requiring an arduous journey of well over 150 miles. The absence of local courts, sheriffs, and consistent protection created a dangerous power vacuum in the backcountry.

Out of this neglect arose the South Carolina Regulator Movement. Unlike their counterparts in North Carolina—who protested corruption within an existing judicial system—the South Carolina Regulators were demanding something more basic: any functioning government presence at all. Their goal was order, security, and access to justice. Eventually, their appeals reached colonial authorities, and the Crown responded by establishing a courthouse and jail at Ninety Six, formally recognizing the settlement as a center of regional authority.

When the American Revolution erupted, this history produced a deeply complicated political landscape. The Patriot leadership in Charleston often consisted of the same planter elites with whom backcountry settlers had clashed for decades. For many residents of Ninety Six, allegiance was not shaped by abstract debates over Parliament, tea taxes, or King George III, but by a practical question: who could be trusted to provide local justice, land security, and protection?

That lingering resentment toward the coast—and the hard-won gains secured under royal authority—meant that when war came, Ninety Six emerged as a fortified Loyalist stronghold, setting it on a collision course with Patriot forces in the years ahead.

1775: First Blood in South Carolina

While the northern colonies reeled from the opening shots at Lexington and Concord and the bloody standoff at Bunker Hill, the fires of war were already smoldering in the Carolinas. Tensions in the South reached a boiling point during the summer and fall of 1775.

In June of that year, Royal Governor William Campbell arrived in Charleston to take the reins from Lieutenant Governor William Bull. Bull was a respected and stabilizing figure, and his own family reflected the war’s divided loyalties. Though Bull remained a staunch Loyalist, his nephew, Stephen Bull, emerged as a prominent Patriot leader, while his brother-in-law was William Moultrie—whose improvised “Palmetto Fort” and heavy cannons would famously repel the British fleet at Sullivan’s Island in June 1776.

Campbell’s tenure in Charleston proved brief. By September 1775, mounting Patriot pressure forced him to flee aboard a British warship anchored in the harbor, joining a growing list of exiled royal governors that included Josiah Martin of North Carolina and Lord Dunmore of Virginia. From the safety of the ship, Campbell sent fateful reports to Parliament asserting that the majority of colonists were “silent Loyalists” who would rise once supported by British troops. This belief reinforced British assumptions about Southern loyalty and helped shape the strategy that would later define the Southern Campaign.

The Siege of Savage’s Old Fields (November 19–21, 1775)

While Charleston and the Lowcountry had long been centers of Patriot resistance, it was in the backcountry that the first shots of the American Revolution in South Carolina were fired. The opening clash became known as the Siege of Savage’s Old Fields, named for plantation owner John Savage, whose land lay just outside the village of Ninety Six.

The conflict was sparked by a shipment of gunpowder. The Patriot Council of Safety in Charleston had dispatched a wagon of powder toward the Cherokee, hoping to secure their alliance. Loyalists intercepted and seized the shipment, claiming the Patriots were arming Indigenous warriors against them. Determined to recover the powder, local Patriot militia marched on Ninety Six.

Finding the town itself difficult to defend, Patriot forces under Andrew Williamson withdrew to Savage’s plantation, where open ground provided a clear field of fire. They were badly outnumbered—roughly 560 Patriots facing as many as 1,900 Loyalists led by Joseph Robinson and Patrick Cunningham. The Patriots hastily erected improvised defenses using fence rails, logs, and other field materials, while Loyalists occupied and fortified the nearby brick jail.

For three days, musket and rifle fire crackled across the fields. At one point, Loyalists attempted to set fires to smoke the Patriots out of their defenses, but damp ground and persistent rain—typical of a South Carolina autumn—prevented the flames from spreading. These wet conditions proved a crucial advantage for the Patriots, limiting the effectiveness of the attack and sparing them a fiery end. Even so, the fighting claimed lives. James Birmingham became the first Patriot to die for the Revolutionary cause in South Carolina and is buried at Ninety Six today beneath a memorial marker.

Truce, Snow, and Suppression

After three days of stalemate, both sides agreed to a truce. The peace proved temporary. Within weeks, the Patriot government launched the “Snow Campaign,” a massive expedition of more than 4,000 men under Andrew Williamson. Marching through a brutal winter storm that dumped up to fifteen inches of snow, the force shattered organized Loyalist resistance across the backcountry. The campaign effectively quieted the region—at least until the British returned in force in 1780.

Many future leaders first saw action at Savage’s Old Fields. Among them was a young Andrew Pickens, who would rise to become one of the most formidable Patriot commanders in the South and later return to Ninety Six during its legendary siege in 1781.

A Backcountry on Edge: Quiet Tension Before the Storm

After the Snow Campaign of late 1775 and early 1776, the South Carolina backcountry entered a period of uneasy calm that lasted for nearly four years. Open warfare largely ceased, but the region was anything but peaceful. Grievances remained unresolved, loyalties hardened, and communities watched one another closely, waiting for the war to return.

While the fighting raged in the northern colonies, Ninety Six and much of the interior remained outwardly quiet. That quiet masked a simmering resentment born of earlier violence, political neglect, and deep divisions between neighbors. Arms were hidden, oaths remembered, and old scores left unsettled.

The British Return with Avengeance

The fragile tension shattered in May 1780 with the fall of Charleston. With the colonial seat of power firmly in British hands, the Crown turned inland, determined to reclaim what officials believed was a “silent Loyalist” majority. What followed was not reconciliation, but a campaign marked by coercion, reprisals, and a level of brutality that transformed the Southern war into something far darker.

The surrender itself was a catastrophic blow to the Patriot cause. General Henry Clinton’s refusal to grant General Benjamin Lincoln the Honors of War was a deliberate insult that set a bitter tone for the remainder of the Southern Campaign. That humiliation was quickly compounded by the tragedy at the Waxhaws, leaving the South virtually devoid of a Continental Army presence.

Fun fact: In October 1781 at Yorktown, Cornwallis—claiming illness—sent his second-in-command, Charles O’Hara, to surrender in his place. O’Hara first approached the French commander, Rochambeau, who redirected him to George Washington. Washington then pointed O’Hara toward General Benjamin Lincoln, symbolically allowing Lincoln to receive the British surrender as pointed retribution for Charleston.

South Carolina had been fractured from the start. While Ninety Six remained a Loyalist stronghold, much of the surrounding backcountry was settled by Scots-Irish families who initially wanted nothing more than to be left alone. That fragile neutrality collapsed in May 1780 at the Battle of the Waxhaws—an engagement that would become infamous as “Tarleton’s Quarter.”

During the fighting, British cavalry under Banastre Tarleton cut down approximately 113 Continental soldiers even as they attempted to surrender, leaving many more wounded. The perceived massacre sent shockwaves through the Carolinas. What had once been a distant political struggle now felt personal, immediate, and merciless.

For many backcountry settlers, Waxhaws marked the moment when neutrality became impossible. Former bystanders took up arms, vengeance replaced restraint, and the American Revolution in the South devolved into a brutal, intimate civil war—neighbor against neighbor, fought in fields, forests, and homesteads.

When the “Hero of Saratoga,” Horatio Gates, finally arrived to command the Southern Army, his disastrous defeat at the Battle of Camden (August 16th) resulted in one of the worst losses suffered by American forces during the entire war. For a moment, Patriot hopes in the South appeared extinguished.

Yet the sparks of resistance endured. Sharp victories at Musgrove Mill and relentless harassment by the “Hornets” around Charlotte kept British forces off balance. The tide finally turned at Kings Mountain, where the Overmountain Men annihilated Major Patrick Ferguson’s Loyalist militia.

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Patrick Ferguson and the Ninety Six Outpost

Prior to his defeat at Kings Mountain on October 7, 1780, Patrick Ferguson was stationed for a time at Ninety Six. In June 1780, he arrived with a clear mission: to recruit, train, and organize the supposed “silent Loyalist” majority of the backcountry. Cornwallis needed these inland outposts secured if he was to march his regular army north with confidence.

Using Ninety Six as his base of operations, Ferguson quickly realized that poorly trained Loyalist militia could not withstand the relentless pressure of Patriot partisan leaders. While Francis Marion (the “Swamp Fox”) wreaked havoc in the Lowcountry and Thomas Sumter (the “Gamecock”) dominated the Midlands, the local pressure from men like Andrew Pickens (the “Skyagunsta”) made the Ninety Six backcountry a “hornet’s nest” for British troops.

Even before his death at Kings Mountain, Ferguson had already concluded that Ninety Six would need to be heavily fortified to survive. His recommendations laid the groundwork for the extensive refortification of the post, which would soon become the most formidable British stronghold in the South Carolina backcountry.

The Engineering of the Star Fort

Following Ferguson’s defeat, Cornwallis finally acknowledged that Loyalist militia alone could not control the backcountry without stronger fortifications. He dispatched his aide-de-camp and engineer, Lieutenant Henry Haldane, to transform Ninety Six into a formidable stronghold.

Haldane selected a design rarely seen in the American Revolution: the Star Fort. Unlike the simple four-sided redoubts common in the colonies, the Star Fort featured eight projecting points, reflecting sophisticated European military engineering. The fort was constructed by Loyalists and enslaved African Americans.

Why the star shape?

• No blind spots: Traditional square forts had “dead zones” at the corners where attackers could shelter. The angled points of the Star Fort allowed defenders to deliver flanking fire along every wall.
  
• Artillery resistance: The fort’s thick earthen walls were designed to absorb and deflect cannon fire, rather than shatter like stone or timber.
  

This was the formidable obstacle that General Nathanael Greene and his engineer, Thaddeus Kościuszko, would confront in the summer of 1781.

The Strategic Gamble: Greene Turns South

By the spring of 1781, the Southern Campaign had reached a fever pitch. At the Battle of Guilford Courthouse, Major General Nathanael Greene succeeded in bleeding Cornwallis’s army nearly dry. Though the British technically held the field, the victory proved pyrrhic, leaving Cornwallis’s forces exhausted, underfed, and critically short on supplies.

Cornwallis retreated to Wilmington, North Carolina, seeking resupply and protection from the British garrison commanded by Major James Craig. While there, he received orders from his superior, General Henry Clinton, directing him to return south and defend British outposts in South Carolina.

Cornwallis, however, was finished with the Carolinas. Defying Clinton’s instructions, he made the fateful decision to march north into Virginia—a gamble that would ultimately lead his army to Yorktown.

Reclaiming the Backcountry

General Nathanael Greene faced a difficult choice. While it might have seemed natural to pursue Cornwallis northward, Greene recognized that doing so would play directly into British hands by drawing his exhausted army away from its home territory. Instead, he made the bold decision to “carry the war into South Carolina.”

It is easy, in hindsight, to see Yorktown as inevitable—but Greene had no such luxury. Cornwallis, or massive British reinforcements, could have returned at any moment. Greene’s objective was clear: systematically dismantle the British chain of inland outposts, beginning with the most formidable of them all—Ninety Six.

One cannot help but wonder how differently the war might have unfolded had Cornwallis obeyed Clinton’s orders and returned south. Had the British maintained control of Ninety Six and the surrounding posts, the liberation of Charleston might have been delayed for years—or never achieved at all. Fate, however, had other plans.

A Spring Siege and the Forlorn Hope

In May 1781, as Cornwallis and the bulk of British forces marched north toward Petersburg and ultimately Yorktown, the war in the South was far from over. At Ninety Six, Lieutenant Colonel John Harris Cruger commanded a garrison of roughly 550 men.

Cruger was himself a notable figure—a New Yorker who had previously served as mayor of New York City. The men defending the Star Fort were not British redcoats, but Americans. The garrison consisted of professionally trained Loyalist Provincials, including approximately 150 men from the 1st Battalion of DeLancey’s Brigade and volunteers from the 2nd Battalion of the New Jersey Volunteers, supplemented by South Carolina Loyalist militia.

Opposing them was General Greene with more than 1,000 men. While his force included disciplined Continental regulars, it relied heavily on Patriot militia—local men led by figures such as the legendary partisan commander Andrew Pickens. The siege quickly became a brutal contest of neighbor against neighbor, as men who had known one another for years now faced off across trenches and earthworks.

The Duel of Engineers: Greene vs. Cruger

Greene understood that the Star Fort was too strong to be taken by direct assault without heavy artillery. He therefore entrusted the operation to his chief engineer, the Polish military genius Thaddeus Kościuszko, who implemented a formal European-style siege.

Who was Thaddeus Kościuszko

Born in Poland in 1746, Kosciuszko would become a hero of two continents. He was a man defined by a radical heart for liberty and equality. Though he had received engineering training in Poland and France, his family’s lack of wealth prevented him from “purchasing” an officer’s commission—a common, yet restrictive, practice in 18th-century Europe that prioritized bank accounts over battlefield merit.

Seeking a true meritocracy, Kosciuszko sailed for Philadelphia in 1776. He tracked down Benjamin Franklin, passed a rigorous technical exam on the spot, and was commissioned into the Continental Army.

Love and War While he fought for liberty, Kosciuszko was also nursing a broken heart. Back in Poland, he had fallen in love with a noblewoman, Ludwika Sosnowska, but their attempt to elope was crushed by her father’s guards. Thwarted in love, he turned his full attention to the “science of war.” Before heading south with Greene, he designed the crucial defenses at Saratoga and the fortress at West Point—the latter so formidable that the British never dared to attack it.

A Vision for Equality Kosciuszko’s vision of liberty was remarkably ahead of its time. He was a staunch abolitionist who famously instructed that upon his death, his American assets should be used to purchase the freedom of enslaved people and fund their education. Thomas Jefferson once described him as “as pure a son of liberty as I have ever known.” You can read some of their correspondence here.

After the war, he returned to Europe to lead a Polish uprising against Russian oppression. Though he died in Switzerland in 1817, he was returned to Poland for a hero’s burial in Wawel Cathedral, leaving a legacy as a global champion for the oppressed.

The Parallels: Kościuszko ordered the construction of zigzagging siege trenches, or parallels, allowing Patriot troops to advance toward the fort while minimizing exposure to enemy fire.

• What is a “Parallel”? If you visit battlefields like Ninety Six or Yorktown, the term “Parallel” comes up constantly. In 18th-century warfare, a parallel is a series of trenches dug by besieging troops that run parallel to the enemy’s defenses. This was a crucial engineering technique; it allowed Patriot troops, artillery, and supplies to be moved closer and closer to the Star Fort’s walls without being exposed to direct fire. To get to these parallels, Kosciuszko’s men had to dig in a “Zig-Zag” pattern (called saps). If they had dug in a straight line, the British would have been able to fire directly down the length of the trench. By “Zig-Zagging,” the Patriots stayed protected by the earth at every turn.

The Mine: In a daring effort, Kościuszko directed the excavation of a subterranean tunnel beneath the fort’s walls. The plan was to pack the chamber with gunpowder and blast a breach through the fourteen-foot-thick earthen defenses.

The Maham Tower: Colonel Hezekiah Maham proposed erecting a thirty-foot wooden tower from which Patriot sharpshooters could fire directly into the fort. Loyalist defenders countered by raising sandbags ever higher along the parapets to deny the attackers a clear line of fire.

The Forlorn Hope (June 18, 1781)

The siege reached its crisis point when Greene learned that a British relief column of roughly 2,000 men under Lord Rawdon was only days away, having marched more than 100 miles through oppressive summer heat. Greene faced a stark choice: attack immediately or abandon the siege.

A small volunteer assault force—the “Forlorn Hope”—was selected to lead the attack, armed with axes and hooks to tear down sandbags and dismantle the sharpened wooden frieze atop the fort’s walls. In response, Loyalist defenders prepared for a desperate fight.

The assault began around midday. At the same time, Colonel Henry “Light-Horse Harry” Lee’s Legion engaged the Stockade Fort west of the village, attempting to seize the spring and divert Loyalist attention from the Star Fort. Greene launched his main attack on the Star Fort from the third parallel, ordering troops in the trenches to advance while inching forward four six-pounder cannon. The artillery fire proved insufficient; the shot could not breach the roughly ten- to twelve-foot-thick earthen walls.

Greene then ordered approximately fifty men of the Forlorn Hope forward to prepare the way for a larger assault. Armed with axes, they hacked at the projecting sharpened stakes, while others used hooks to pull down sandbags along the parapet. Lieutenant Colonel John Harris Cruger responded by ordering Loyalist troops out of the fort and into the ditch and parapet positions. What followed was nearly an hour of savage, close-quarters fighting as bayonets, muskets, and axes were used at point-blank range.

Recognizing that Ninety Six would not fall before Rawdon’s relief force arrived, Greene finally called off the assault. To preserve the remainder of his army, he ordered a withdrawal, ending the twenty-eight-day siege. Learn more about the timeline of the battle on the official park website

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The Tactical Debate: “Light-Horse Harry” Lee

While Thaddeus Kościuszko concentrated on reducing the Star Fort through formal siege operations, Lieutenant Colonel Henry “Light-Horse Harry” Lee arrived at Ninety Six with a different assessment. Lee believed the fort’s true vulnerability lay not in its earthworks, but in its water supply. Working alongside Andrew Pickens, he focused his efforts on the Stockade Fort, which guarded the settlement’s only reliable spring.

Lee’s willingness to challenge conventional thinking was characteristic of the man.

One of my personal favorites of the American Revolution, Henry “Light-Horse Harry” Lee combined daring, speed, and instinct in ways that often put him at odds with more methodical commanders. Part of that admiration comes from his later life, long after the Revolution had ended. During the War of 1812, Lee intervened when a close friend—Baltimore newspaperman Alexander Contee Hanson—was attacked by a mob for publishing antiwar opinions (Baltimore Riots). Though Lee supported defending the nation, he also fiercely believed in freedom of the press. While trying to protect Hanson, Lee was brutally beaten and left gravely injured, wounds from which he never fully recovered.

Lee’s postwar life was marked by hardship. Like many Revolutionary figures, he was caught up in land speculation that ended in financial ruin, and he spent time in debtors’ prison. These struggles cast a long shadow over his family, including his son, Robert E. Lee, who would later rise as a U.S. Army officer before ultimately turning against the Union during the Civil War.

Some contemporaries criticized Lee for acting too quickly at times, but his tenacity and grit made him one of the Revolution’s most effective cavalry officers. When visitors see his portrait in museums, they sometimes mistake him for Banastre Tarleton, famous for his green-clad dragoons. In reality, it is Lee—his Legion also wore green uniforms. This choice enhanced mobility and surprise in the backcountry, though, as historians such as John Buchanan note, it occasionally caused confusion that backfired.

Lee earned his nickname for speed, daring, and horsemanship during aggressive cavalry operations, particularly in the Middle Colonies. In January 1781, Lee and his Legion—nearly three hundred men—joined General Nathanael Greene in the Southern Department. There, Lee enjoyed a string of dramatic successes, capturing British outposts at Fort Watson, Fort Motte, Fort Granby, and Augusta, Georgia, helping to unravel British control of the interior.

That momentum slowed at Ninety Six. On June 18, 1781, as the siege reached its crisis, Lee made a determined assault against the Stockade Fort protecting the settlement’s water supply. Believing success there could force Loyalists to divert attention from the Star Fort, Lee pressed aggressively. When Greene called off the siege after the failure of the Forlorn Hope attack, Lee took the decision hard.

In the years that followed, Lee remained a vocal critic of the operation. He contended that Kościuszko’s adherence to textbook European siege methods—rather than severing the water supply—had cost the Patriots a decisive victory at Ninety Six.

While Lee’s frustration is understandable, the realities of siege warfare rarely allow perfect choices. In the end, although Greene failed to capture Ninety Six outright, the campaign succeeded strategically. The British soon abandoned and burned the post, retreating toward Charleston—another step in Greene’s slow, relentless dismantling of British control in the South.

A Tactical Loss, a Strategic Win

Though the failed siege appeared to be a defeat on paper, Greene’s broader strategy succeeded. Within weeks, British commanders concluded that Ninety Six was too isolated to defend. The garrison burned the town and its stockade and withdrew toward Charleston, effectively conceding control of the South Carolina backcountry to the Patriots.

“We fight, get beat, rise, and fight again.”
— Nathanael Greene to the Chevalier de la Luzerne, after earlier battle at Hobkirk’s Hill

Andrew Pickens: The Steady Hand of the Backcountry:

A hero of the Palmetto State who should never be overlooked is Andrew Pickens. From his involvement in the first battle at Ninety Six in November 1775, to helping secure victory at Cowpens alongside Daniel Morgan, to his role with Henry “Light-Horse Harry” Lee in attempting to cut off the water supply at the Stockade Fort, Pickens proved himself indispensable to the Patriot cause.

While other Carolina leaders—such as Thomas Sumter—could be powerful and inspiring but sometimes rash (as at Fishing Creek), Pickens was widely respected for his cool head, discipline, and tactical judgment. He was a steady commander, particularly well suited to the fluid, brutal warfare of the Southern backcountry.

Pickens earned the nickname “Old Elder” for his deep Presbyterian faith and moral authority. His family was Scots-Irish, migrating south from Pennsylvania along the Great Wagon Road, a path that shaped much of the backcountry’s culture and leadership. He was also known among Native Americans as “The Old Wizard,” a testament to both his battlefield skill and his reputation for insight and restraint.

After the war, Pickens demonstrated the same measured character in peace that he had shown in conflict. He played a role in negotiating with the Cherokee and other tribes, often showing empathy and understanding rooted in years of hard experience along the frontier.

The success of the Revolutionary War in the Southern Campaign owes much to Andrew Pickens—a commander who combined faith, patience, and tactical brilliance at moments when all three were desperately needed.

Visiting Ninety Six Today

Ninety Six is a must-visit site for Revolutionary War enthusiasts in South Carolina. From the first shots fired in the state during the Revolution, to the construction of the formidable Star Fort, to the twenty-eight-day siege that—while a tactical failure for Greene and his army—ultimately broke British control of the backcountry, the site tells the full arc of the Southern Campaign. In the weeks following the siege, the British burned the fort and abandoned the region for good.

I’ll be creating a Passport Guide to Revolutionary War sites throughout the greater Upcountry centered on Ninety Six, but even in one long weekend I was able to visit Cowpens, Musgrove Mill State Park, and Ninety Six National Historic Site. I would love to return and spend more time here, but even a two-hour visit offered the chance to speak with knowledgeable and welcoming rangers. One ranger spent nearly half an hour walking me through the battles and offering tips on what to look for along the self-guided walking tour of the fort and former village ruins.

Inside the visitor center, I recommend spending time with the painting of Nathanael Greene attack of the Star Fort and portraits of Thaddeus Kościuszko, Henry “Light Horse Harry” Lee, and Patrick Ferguson—who was originally stationed here and used Ninety Six as a base for Loyalist recruitment. One portrait may seem like an odd inclusion at first: Francis Marion. Marion was never at Ninety Six, but his presence represents the broader Patriot resistance across the South Carolina backcountry, from Ninety Six to the Lowcountry around Georgetown. He coordinated with Greene and other Patriot leaders, and his fame stems in part from his ability to evade Banastre Tarleton, whose frustration at being unable to catch Marion in the swamps of central and eastern South Carolina became legendary.

What makes Ninety Six especially remarkable is its preservation. Many Revolutionary War battlefields have been altered by time—through erosion, farming, development, or reuse during the Civil War. At Ninety Six, the landscape still retains the original footprint of the Star Fort, siege trenches, and mine, along with carefully reconstructed elements such as the Stockade Fort (a reconstruction of Holmes’ Fort, also known as Williamson’s Fort during the 1775 fighting).

The roughly one-mile trail has a haunting sense of peace. I retraced the path about an hour before sunset and was struck by the calm—not because violence had not occurred here, but because the natural terrain is humbly beautiful. Sunlight filtered through the trees as if the land itself were quietly telling its story, from Indigenous roots through Revolutionary upheaval.

Trail Highlights

The Star Fort:
Only the earthen mounds of the fort remain, but during the siege its walls rose fourteen feet above the surrounding ditch. Loyalist defenders added protective traverses and attempted to dig a twenty-five-foot well inside the fort, but found no water. Instead, enslaved workers brought water at night through the covered communication trenches—four- to five-foot-deep ditches linking the Star Fort, the village, and the Stockade Fort.

Spring Branch:
You can still see the stream that supplied water to the Loyalist garrison during the siege. This spring proved vital, and historians continue to debate whether Henry Lee was correct in arguing that it should have been cut off. Remarkably, the water still flows through the land today.

Island Ford Road:
At this stop, you are standing beside a colonial road carved deep by decades of travel. It once crossed the Saluda River at Island Ford, roughly seven miles to the north.

Siege Trenches:
Remnants of the siege parallels designed by engineering mastermind Thaddeus Kościuszko are still visible, offering a rare chance to see 18th-century siege warfare etched into the landscape.

For me, the most haunting moments came from the markers indicating where the town of Ninety Six once stood—where three roads met at the center of what had been a major frontier community. Today, those spaces are silent grassy knolls, with only ghostly statues hinting at the lives once lived here. I’m particularly interested in learning more about the archaeological discoveries made at the site.

One reason Ninety Six remains so well preserved is that it never truly recovered after the war. Attempts were made to revive the settlement, including a plan to establish a college and rename the town Cambridge, but the effort failed within a decade or two. The modern community of Ninety Six lies nearby, but it does not sit directly atop the original town foundations. The surrounding Ninety Six District, however, is rich with history—much of which I hope to explore on a future visit.

Traveling Through Time: The Logan Log House

One of the most iconic sights at Ninety Six is the historic log cabin used for Living History events. Known as the Logan Log House, this two-story structure is the oldest remaining building in Greenwood County, dating back to the late 1700s.

The cabin has a long lineage of survival: it was purchased by William Blake and remained in his family until 1875, when it passed to the Wells family for 82 years before eventually being relocated to the park. Today, it serves as the “Black Swan Tavern,” a recreation of a typical backcountry tavern. These taverns were the heart of the frontier—serving as post offices, news hubs, and the primary meeting spots for both Patriots and Loyalists to argue the politics of the day.

Buried History: Honoring the Fallen

One question many visitors ask as they walk the quiet paths of Ninety Six is: Where are they all buried? Between the 1775 skirmish and the 1781 siege, hundreds of soldiers and citizens lived, fought, and died on this ground.

While historical logic dictates they were buried on-site, the exact locations of the mass graves remain one of the park’s great mysteries. To date, there has not been enough archaeological evidence to establish exactly where the soldiers of the Star Fort or the “Forlorn Hope” rest. However, there are several known gravesites that offer a quiet place for reflection:

• The Mayson Graves: Major James Mayson and his wife are buried along Highway 248, near the DAR marker. Born in Scotland before immigrating to South Carolina, Mayson was a prominent leader in the South Carolina Regulator Movement before becoming a vital Patriot officer. He helped command the defense at Savage’s Old Fields in the 1775 conflict and part of the true with Loyalists to end the three day fight, which were the first shots of the war in South Carolina.
• The Gouedy Trail: Along this path lies the grave of James Gouedy (son of the town’s founder and trader, Robert Gouedy), alongside approximately fifty unknown graves believed to be early settlers of the region.
• The First Casualty: You will find a memorial to James Birmingham, the first Patriot killed in action in South Carolina during the November 1775 siege. While his specific gravesite on the property is unknown, the marker stands as a tribute to the beginning of the end for British rule in the backcountry.

As you explore the site, I recommend stopping for a moment at these markers to offer a prayer or a thought for the deceased and their descendants who still call this region home today.

In the neighborhood:

Explore historic Ninety Six District, including Lake Greenwood State Park, Antique Shops, 19th-century homes and historic churches…plan you itinerary here

I look forward to future visits and features to this area…on the way back home to Raleigh, I drove through Newberry (wanted to see the Newberry Opera House, a beautiful Gothic theatre that now hosts top talent from Willie Nelson to orchestras) and Winnsboro where Cornwallis had a headquarters. It was out of the way, but the best Revolutionary Road Trips have historical detours and backcountry roads.

Area resources:

Ninety Six Park Page

Musgrove Mill State Historic Site Website

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Hi, I’m Adele Lassiter, the travel enthusiast behind American Nomad Traveler. This is where I share my love for history, cool museums, art, and travel tips. When I’m not writing, I’m a singer-songwriter with a passion for Americana music. You can find my new album here: adelelassiter.bandcamp.com

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