It was located on Gap Creek, about half a mile northeast of the Watauga, upon a gentle knoll, from about which the trees, and even stumps, were carefully cleared, to prevent their sheltering a lurking enemy. The buildings have now altogether crumbled away; but the spot is still identified by a few graves and a large locust-tree,—then a slender sapling, now a burly patriarch, which has remained to our day to point out the spot where occurred the first conflict between civilization and savagery in the new empire beyond the Alleghanies. For the conflict was between those two forces; and the forts along the frontier—of which this at Watauga was the original and model—were the forerunners of civilization,—the “voice crying in the wilderness,” announcing the reign of peace which was to follow.
The fort covered a parallelogram of about an acre, and was built of log cabins placed at intervals along the four sides, the logs notched closely together, so that the walls were bullet-proof. One side of the cabins formed the exterior of the fort, and the spaces between them were filled with palisades of heavy timber, eight feet long, sharpened at the ends, and set firmly into the ground. At each of the angles was a block-house, about twenty feet square and two stories high, the upper story projecting about two feet beyond the lower, so as to command the sides of the fort and enable the besieged to repel a close attack or any attempt to set fire to the buildings. Port-holes were placed at suitable distances. There were two wide gate-ways, constructed to open quickly to permit a sudden sally or the speedy rescue of outside fugitives. On one of these was a lookout station, which commanded a wide view of the surrounding country. The various buildings would comfortably house two hundred people, but on an emergency a much larger number might find shelter within the enclosure.
The fort was admirably adapted to its design, and, properly manned, would repel any attack of fire-arms in the hands of such desultory warriors as the Indians. In the arithmetic of the frontier it came to be adopted as a rule that one white man behind a wall of logs was a match for twenty-five Indians in the open field; and subsequent events showed this to have been not a vainglorious reckoning.
There were much older men at Watauga than either Sevier or Robertson,—one of whom was now only twenty-eight and the other thirty,—but they had from the first been recognized as natural leaders. These two events—the building of the fort and the Cherokee mission, which displayed Sevier’s uncommon military genius and Robertson’s ability and address as a negotiator—elevated them still higher in the regard of their associates, and at once the cares and responsibilities of leadership in both civil and military affairs were thrust upon them. But Sevier, with a modesty which he showed throughout his whole career, whenever it was necessary that one should take precedence of the other, always insisted upon Robertson’s having the higher position; and so it was that in the military company which was now formed Sevier, who had served as a captain under Dunmore, was made lieutenant, while Robertson was appointed captain.