Washington’s route to New York was by Providence and the towns near Long Island Sound in order that he might expedite the march of his troops; Martha and her entourage proceeded via Hartford. She had made a good, if not a dazzling impression on Massachusetts society. Washington received warm welcome by Governor Cooke and some of the gentlemen of Providence on the sixth. By the afternoon of April 13 he was in New York.
In the city Tories were diminishing in number but still were strong and not lacking in confidence, because they had the protection of British men-of-war that could set the town afire at any hour. The “Sons of Liberty” were not cowed by the cannon of the ships and not disposed to let the Loyalists plot mischief. Feeling, already tense, was rising daily. Some defensive works had been completed by militia who had just been discharged; other fortification was in progress. Putnam was in command with Heath under him; troops were fewer than Washington had expected to find and were rashly dispersed.
The situation was disorganized and confused because it lacked the experienced direction of Charles Lee who had designated sites but had left execution in its first stage when he had received command of a newly created Southern Department. Lee had thought it “more prudent” that he be dispatched to Canada, because of his knowledge of French, but he wrote of the southern command, “I shall obey with alacrity and hope with success.” Washington had said: “As a Virginian, I must rejoice at the change; but, as an American, I think you would have done more essential service to the common cause in Canada.” Privately Washington had begun to doubt the stability, perhaps the dependability, of his senior lieutenant. “He is,” Washington had written his brother Jack, “the first officer in military knowledge and experience we have in the whole Army. He is zealously attached to the cause, honest and well-meaning but rather fickle and violent I fear in his temper.”
Before Washington could master the details of the fortifications Lee had left unfinished, the Commander-in-Chief was compelled to deal with a dismal situation in Canada. Congress had decided on February 15 to name three commissioners to proceed to Canada and had determined to send to the St. Lawrence an officer of high rank and recognized ability. As Schuyler was physically unfit to take the field, Congress had chosen John Thomas for this mission and had made him a Major General. Thomas had left Roxbury March 22 and on the twenty-eighth had reached Albany. There he had caught the echo of much doubt and misery voiced by officers and men in Canada. When fragmentary reports could be pieced together during April, they showed many discouragements. Gen. David Wooster had transferred his headquarters to the camp of the small American force that was keeping up the pretence of a siege of Quebec; Arnold had gone to Montreal, which was still in the hands of Continental troops. Before Arnold had left Quebec, he had been hampered by the sullenness of discontented men and the presence of no less than five feet of snow. He had four hundred sick and wounded, though he himself had almost recovered. After Wooster reached the lines across from Quebec, he had an even gloomier tale to tell. The American forces on that front numbered between two and three thousand, of whom not more than half were fit for duty. Many were determined to leave April 15, when their enlistment expired. New troops were arriving slowly and were of small use because of the prevalence of smallpox. Col. Moses Hazen had sent Schuyler a discouraging report. “We have brought on ourselves by mismanagement,” Hazen wrote bluntly, “what Governor Carleton himself never could effect.”
Before the worst of this was known, Congress had reaffirmed its resolution to add Canada to the United Colonies and to retrieve the defeat Montgomery had sustained. Washington had been directed to detach four battalions to Canada. In addition, the able Commissioners of Congress—Franklin, Samuel Chase and Charles Carroll—had been given instructions, vested with discretionary power to raise companies, and started on their way.
It now was time for Washington to do his part to win Canada to the Colonial cause. Washington alone could supply trained men in sufficient strength to shift the balance again. Desire to destroy the enemy’s strongholds in Canada disposed him to relax his insistence on concentration of force and comply vigorously with orders he would in any event have obeyed. He was inclined, also, to give more credit than formerly to the reports that Howe’s fleet was bound for Halifax, whence it would be easy to detach men and transport up the St. Lawrence to Quebec. Washington felt confident that New York was too much a prize strategically for a competent British commander to ignore. In the same way, he regarded Canada as a base so convenient and valuable for the British that the Americans were justified in risks and sacrifices to wrest the northern province from the enemy.
The strategy of the struggle was changing. It was becoming a contest for the control of the Hudson: If Howe could seize and occupy the mouth of the river, he might be able to sever the eastern Colonies from the others. If Washington could close the St. Lawrence between Quebec and Montreal, he could prevent the use of that river for operations against the Hudson. It was a dramatic race—Washington to Quebec, Howe to New York.
Four battalions were made ready to proceed up the Hudson under the command of William Thompson. By the time Washington received word on April 27 of the arrival of these troops in Albany, he had new orders from Philadelphia: He was to send six additional regiments to Canada and if he thought this force insufficient to assure the capture of Quebec, he was to indicate whether still more men could be spared from New York. Washington immediately designated the regiments to go and named John Sullivan to the command. On the question of still larger assistance for the Canadian expedition he said: “. . . I should wish indeed that the army in Canada should be more powerfully reenforced; at the same time I am conscious that the trusting this important post (which is now become the Grand Magazine of America) to the handful of men remaining here is running too great a risk: The securing this post and Hudsons River is to us also of so great importance that I cannot at present advise the sending any more troops from hence.” Then he went on to explain that his officers thought a garrison of ten thousand necessary for New York.
In restless, divided New York the soldiers were subjected to temptations different from those they had faced in small New England villages and in camps from which women were excluded. The neighborhood known satirically as “the holy ground” was shocking to some of the men of Puritan descent. Wild tales were told of what was done by denizens of dark places. Many of the soldiers went to the dives with the result that venereal disease was prevalent in some commands. There were, too, numerous cases of desertion and some instances of drunkenness, combined with so much disorder that the offenders had to be brought before general court-martial. A considerable part of the Commander-in-Chief’s orders on disciplinary matters dealt with camp sanitation and with the protection of the houses, trees and gardens of citizens. Washington requested the Committee of Safety to put an end to trading with the enemy and, when that did not suffice, he served notice that traffickers would be punished.
The defences of New York were strengthened. Along with his scheme of fortification, Lee had given Congress his analysis of the tactical possibilities of coping with an adversary who commanded the waters around New York City. Lee’s theory was that the town scarcely could be made a tenable fortress, but that it could be “made a most advantageous field of battle, so advantageous, indeed, that if our people behave with common spirit, and the commanders are men of discretion, it might cost the enemy many thousands of men to get possession of it.”
Long Island Sound could be dominated by the Americans; Long Island itself could be defended by four to five thousand men with redoubts at its western end. Cross fire from these fortifications and those of New York would make it almost certain that East River could be closed to the British. North River was so wide and deep that the enemy could navigate it but might have less power to do mischief than had been assumed. The ground offered some protection from naval ordnance; batteries could keep men-of-war at a distance. Barriers and redoubts must be erected; King’s Bridge must be so fortified that communication would be “free and open” with Connecticut, to which New York would have to look for reenforcements. New Jersey could not be relied upon in an hour of sudden danger because the North River made easy contact precarious.
Lee had been able to interpret only a part of his program into terms of parapets and ditches before he had been sent south. Washington had to complete what Lee had begun. That was the easier part of the task. More troops had to be made available for service whenever the lookouts signalled that the King’s canvas was visible on the horizon. Washington had barely 8300 men fit for duty as of April 23. He appealed to the New York Committee of Safety to provide 2000 to 2500 militia for an emergency and, while setting no figure, he made a like request of New Jersey. Connecticut, too, was enjoined to have men ready for the instant succor of their comrades in New York.
Bickering and argument between Whig and Tory became more violent. If the Loyalist looked down the harbor towards the masts of the Asia and prayed for the arrival of a delivering fleet, the Americans talked increasingly of proclaiming independence and of jailing spies and traitors. The anniversary of Concord and Lexington was past. Uncertainty had prevailed for a year: there soon must be a decision. Washington sensed or saw it all from his Headquarters at Abraham Mortier’s, where Martha had joined him April 17.
Of honor, there was as much as he who loved the approval of his fellowmen could ask. John Adams informed him that Congress had voted thanks and a gold medal for Washington’s accomplishments at Boston. As author of this motion and chairman of the committee on the design of a medal, Adams wished Washington’s “sentiments concerning a proper” device. Formal notification, approved by Congress on April 2 and duly signed by Hancock, overtook Washington on the seventeenth. It contained a eulogistic review of the campaign. Then followed official thanks which Washington was to communicate to the Army. The General’s reply was, in part, an assurance “that it will ever be my highest ambition to approve myself a faithful servant of the public; and that to be in any degree instrumental in procuring to my American brethren a restitution of their just rights and privileges will constitute my chief happiness.” Then, in justice to his men, Washington said: “They were indeed at first ’a band of undisciplined husbandmen’ but it is (under God) to their bravery and attention to their duty that I am indebted for that success which procured for me the only reward I wish to receive, the affection and esteem of my countrymen.” Always the approval and applause of his fellow-men had been the supreme goal, next that of acquiring a fortune. It had been to deserve this approval that he had shaped his life and disciplined his spirit. Now, in larger measure than ever, he had honor and something already approaching veneration.
Now, he had to contend with an acute shortage of small arms, with the slow progress of recruiting, the termination July 1 of the enlistment of the riflemen, and the possibility that neglect of the refortification of Boston might invite a return of the British. Artemas Ward had presented his resignation as Major General on the grounds of ill-health, but Congress had failed to name a successor. Ward remained, though he still asked to be relieved. Washington had no high opinion of Ward and said nothing to indicate regret at the news that he had decided to leave the Army.
The possibility of an attack on Boston seemed at times to be remote and, in other circumstances, to be not unlikely; but as of May 5, Washington had to admit: “The designs of the enemy are too much behind the curtain for me to form any accurate opinion of their plan of operations for the summer’s campaign.” He still thought that no place was of more importance to the British than the mouth of the Hudson. He and Congress soon had information that the enemy might be strong enough to reenforce their troops in Canada, send Howe to New York and, perhaps, strike simultaneously at some other point. By the second week in May, American leaders came to believe there was truth to reports that the King had hired German troops from continental princes. Regiments were known to have been dispatched from Ireland, also. A stronger Britain would confront an America weakened by dispersion of force, losses of many sorts and the ravages of smallpox.
The worst nightmare was disaster in Canada. Thomas had arrived in front of Quebec May 1 and had taken general command; Thompson, promoted to Brigadier, was known to have reached Fort George. Sullivan and his command were supposed to be proceeding north from Albany; Schuyler was doing his utmost to forward supplies. The Commissioners to Canada reported from Montreal that a supply of coin was necessary and that the lack of it was responsible, along with “other arbitrary proceedings,” for many of the difficulties the troops were encountering. By May 15 papers that passed through Washington’s hands led him to conclude: “nothing less than the most wise and vigorous exertions of Congress and the Army there can promise success.”
It did not so befall. Two days after writing this letter, Washington received from Schuyler a report that covered a tale of calamity. Smallpox, paper money, poor transport and divided leadership had weakened the Americans hopelessly in the face of a strengthened adversary. A British squadron of five vessels had reached Quebec May 6. There followed an affair thus summarized in the American Commissioners’ letter to Schuyler, the paper Washington read: “The enemy made a sally . . . in a body supposed not to be less than a thousand. Our forces were so dispersed that not more than two hundred could be collected at headquarters. In this situation, a retreat was inevitable, and made in the utmost precipitation and confusion, with the loss of our cannon on the batteries, provisions, five hundred stands of small arms and a batteau load of powder. . . .”
Washington had hoped that the besiegers of Quebec could remain in front of the city until the reenforcement of ten regiments from his own Army arrived, but he did not interpret the bad news to mean that the major effort of the British was certain to be directed south from that stronghold. On the contrary, his office was preparing to draft orders for a continuing general alert in New York. He had, in short, to face the possibility that the vital line of the Hudson might be assailed from the north and from the south; he felt that the response to this should not be vain regret but active resolution. He encouraged and exhorted Schuyler and undertook to rally Sullivan.
Washington received on the eighteenth from an escaped prisoner of war, George Merchant, a number of papers, among which were copies of the treaties England had made for the employment of approximately seventeen thousand German troops. This action was enough to quicken demand for a final break with the mother country, and, so far as Washington’s military problem was concerned, it meant also that the enemy with more troops, could strike heavier blows in more places—and speedily. Merchant brought with him a letter that indicated fifteen British regiments were at sea or soon would be bound for America.
Washington concluded that Adjutant General Gates should go at once to Philadelphia. He did not feel that he himself should leave New York when there was a prospect the British fleet might descend on that city at any time. He turned over to Gates the copies of the German treaties and, in a communication to Hancock let it be understood that Gates had the largest latitude to make suggestions. On the evening of the day Washington wrote this letter, there arrived from Hancock an invitation for Washington to visit Philadelphia for his health and for consultation with Congress. Along with this came highly interesting Army news: Horatio Gates had been promoted Major General, and Thomas Mifflin had been made a Brigadier. With this much Washington was heartily in accord. The disturbing note was in a request from Hancock that both Gates and Mifflin be assigned to duty in Massachusetts, where Washington did not believe there was material danger of a British landing. It was too much to lose Gates as Adjutant General and, in addition, to have him shelved on Beacon Hill.
Washington drew up careful instructions for Putnam to press the fortification of New York and set out for Philadelphia, where he found a great diversity of business to be transacted in an atmosphere of excitement over possible independence and depression over Canada. When the Commissioners prepared their report, four days after Washington dismounted in Philadelphia, they listed circumstances to humiliate the continent: “General Wooster is, in our opinion unfit, totally unfit, to command your Army. . . . Your army is badly paid; and so exhausted is your credit that even a cart cannot be procured without ready money or force. . . . Your army in Canada do not exceed 4000; above 400 are sick with different disorders. . . . We cannot find words to describe our miserable situation. . . .” Washington told himself that America must expect a “bloody summer” for which she was not prepared; but he could not believe the situation in Canada beyond redemption by courage and effort. The force in Canada must be augmented, but not at the expense of the Army that was to defend New York against almost certain attack. That was the major premise of his recommendations to Congress.
On May 24 and 25 Washington appeared before Congress to answer inquiries of members. When this proved an awkward arrangement, he, Gates and Mifflin held frequent conferences with a committee named for that purpose. The broad conclusion was to contest “every foot of ground” occupied by the Americans in Canada and to do the utmost to hold a position below the mouth of the Richelieu River. Entry of the British into the upper country of the United Colonies was to be prevented by American operations on the St. Lawrence; efforts were to be made to prevail on Indians to attack Niagara and Detroit; New York and the mouth of the Hudson were of course to be defended. A two-to-one superiority of force was desired and was to be had, substantially, by enlisting until December 1 approximately twenty thousand militia, who were to be apportioned among the Colonies from New Jersey northward. Indians not exceeding two thousand were to be hired in Canada. In addition, the Middle Colonies of Delaware, Pennsylvania and Maryland were to provide until December a total of ten thousand militia who were to constitute a “Flying Camp,” under “such continental general officers as the Commander-in-Chief shall direct.” All this was agreed upon readily. Washington believed short-term enlistment responsible for much of the woe of the Army in Canada and urged the grant of a bounty to men already in the Army who would enlist for a term of years or for the “continuance of the war.” He found Congress not yet willing to vote the bounty or provide for enlargement of the Continental Line on the basis of two or three years’ service. Reliance still was on the militia for emergencies. Washington acquiesced.
While this discussion of “survive or perish” called for Washington’s full participation, the other subject of talk at every table—whether and when the Colonies should declare their independence—was one with which he scarcely had patience. He wrote his brother: “. . . things have come to that pass now as to convince us that we have nothing more to expect from the justice of Great Britain.” Washington found this the view of virtually all those members of Congress with whom he had been on closest terms during the months he had belonged to the Virginia delegation. Having gone so far, they felt they now might as well go all the way. Most of New England was impatient over delay. As the end of May approached, Virginia and North Carolina were believed to be ready for action. It was understood that the Middle Colonies and some of those in the south would be the last to assent, but there was a disposition to wait for a few weeks in the belief that unanimity might be achieved. Soon, it seemed, an answer was to be made to the warning of Charles Lee: “If you do not declare immediately for positive independence, we are all ruined.”
Washington’s immediate task was to counsel regarding the means by which the evil day in Canada could be redeemed, and his, too, was the duty of advising on the choice of men to take the place of Gates as Adjutant General and of Mifflin as Quartermaster General. Now it was possible to offer Joseph Reed the post of Adjutant General and invoke the aid of members of Congress in prevailing on him to accept. Reed’s lack of precise knowledge of the Adjutant’s functions and duties did not weigh decisively, in Washington’s mind, when set against the quick perception and social skill of the Philadelphian. Divided New York called for the finesse Reed could display. Washington had been showing great deference for the feelings of New York, but he wanted to have at his command the diplomatic address and diversified knowledge of men and of law that Reed possessed. With some difficulty, he prevailed.
For Mifflin’s successor as Quartermaster General, Washington turned to another member of his military “family,” his recently appointed aide Stephen Moylan, who previously had been Mustermaster General. He had energy and a ready tongue and gave promise of as good an administration as could be expected where almost everything a Quartermaster sought was crude and costly or unprocurable.
Throughout these consultations with Congress, Washington felt heightened concern for the safety of New York, but no weary express knocked at Washington’s door with the anticipated news from North River. Business in Philadelphia was concluded in comparative calm. On June 3 Hancock expressed to Washington the thanks of Congress for “unremitted attention” to his trust and especially for assistance in making plans for the defence of the Colonies. The General was free, Hancock wrote, to return to Headquarters when he saw fit. Washington waited only to get copies of the various resolves of Congress that concerned his duties, and then, leaving Martha in the Quaker City, he was off on the fourth for New York, where he arrived June 6.
Good news and bad awaited him. It was good because all was quiet and because visible progress had been made on the defences: it was bad in that letters from Canada gave alarming if vague details of a new defeat at The Cedars, about thirty miles up the St. Lawrence from Montreal. Washington feared the next intelligence would be of the loss of Montreal. From other sources, he heard that General Thomas had smallpox and, on the eighth, he had the shocking announcement that the vigorous New Englander was dead. Washington reiterated to Schuyler what he had said to more than one correspondent: “The most vigorous exertions will be necessary to retrieve our circumstances there, and I hope you will strain every nerve for that purpose. Unless it can be done now, Canada will be lost forever, the fatal consequences of which everyone must feel.” Thomas’s death would have meant normally that Brigadier General Wooster would have assumed temporary command; but on the day Washington learned of it, notice was received from Hancock that Wooster had been relieved of command. Charles Carroll and Samuel Chase, two of the Canadian Commissioners of Congress, had reached New York and now reported to Washington. Their particular object of wrath was Wooster, who soon would be on his way to New York. “I wish to know what I am to do with him,” Washington asked Congress, “when he comes.”
Supplies for Canada had to be hurried up the Hudson; the fortification of New York was continued, that of Powles Hook on the Jersey side of North River was pressed, and the task of guarding the New York highlands was entrusted to Col. James Clinton. Discipline was enforced with even more vigor than previously. These and kindred tasks were discharged in an atmosphere of expectancy. Hour by hour, suspense was heightened.
As early as June 10 Governor Tryon was credited with saying that a frigate from Halifax had brought news of the embarkation of Howe’s army for New York. In the camps it was predicted that the enemy would attack within ten days. Washington felt that this information originated with Loyalists who were reporting all American activities to the Asia or to the ships off Sandy Hook and were supplying them with fresh provisions. When he had gone to Philadelphia he had been hopeful that the New York authorities would arrest the men most apt to aid the King. Now a vigorous policy was pursued by the New York patriots; a general search for disaffected persons was begun.
During the first stages of this hunt for Tories, Washington had no concern over the prospective vote on independence. He doubtless was informed promptly that Congress had decided June 10 to postpone further discussion of the issue for three weeks in the hope that the Delegates of the most hesitant Colonies would receive authority to vote for separation from England.
Even if nothing of consequence was to come from Philadelphia before July, news might be expected at any time from Canada, news so grim that Washington almost dreaded its arrival. When the first additional budget reached him in the form of two dispatches from Sullivan he felt distinct relief. Sullivan described enthusiastically what he pronounced a “strange turn” in the American cause. “The Canadians,” he said, “are flocking by hundreds to take a part with us.” He had ordered General Thompson to proceed to Three Rivers and, if that officer did not find the enemy greatly superior in numbers, attack. This was what Washington had been advocating—the American front as far as possible in the direction of Quebec. He approved Sullivan’s plan with heartiness and, at the same time, with cautious understanding of both the ambitious officer and the difficulties that had to be overcome. Sullivan manifestly was “aiming at the command in Canada.” Washington accordingly decided to transmit Sullivan’s letter to Hancock and, after presenting as fair a sketch as he could of the character of the New Hampshire General, to say nothing to influence the decision of Congress whether Sullivan should be placed at the head of the little army in Canada.
Embarrassment was escaped by prompt action in Philadelphia. The very day Washington’s letter to the President was written, Congress decided to vest in Horatio Gates the Canadian command and direct Washington to expedite the departure of the new Major General. Whether Gates would be acceptable to Sullivan, it was impossible for Washington to say. Nor was it certain that Gates would go there in the most cooperative state of mind. In confidential letters to New England friends, he was becoming critical of Washington.
Washington probably knew nothing of this correspondence, but he doubtless felt that he had good fortune in avoiding a disagreeable encounter with General Wooster, who arrived in New York June 17. No high officer of the Army was held in such low opinion by most of those whose opinion was of value. When Wooster arrived the Commander-in-Chief had received no answer to his inquiry concerning what he should do with the Connecticut officer, but he heard that Wooster desired to go home for a visit; so, in renewing his question about the employment of the veteran, Washington told Congress of the General’s wish. Patience paid its practitioner. Wooster announced that he wished to proceed to Philadelphia and to talk with Congressmen before going home. Gladly and promptly Washington assented.
Thus stood matters when on June 21, David Matthews, Mayor of New York, was “charged with dangerous designs and treasonable conspiracies against the rights and liberties of the United Colonies of America” by a committee of the Provincial Congress; Washington was authorized and requested to apprehend and secure the Mayor and all his papers. Matthews had been listed a few weeks previously by the Provincial Congress of New York as one of those whom the people were “naturally led to consider . . . as their enemies” because of failure to aid the American cause, but no action had been taken against him. On June 17, a man named Isaac Ketcham, who was in jail for complicity in an attempt at counterfeiting, informed the Provincial Congress that he believed two fellow prisoners, Continental soldiers, Thomas Hickey and Michael Lynch, belonged to some “corps” that was receiving money from the British fleet. These culprits and persons who came to see them in prison talked of cutting down King’s Bridge and of going over to the enemy when the British fleet came. The Provincial Congress listened in alarm to Ketcham and, after a meeting between Washington and one of its spokesmen that day, named a committee to confer with the General.
As a result of this, John Jay and Gouverneur Morris, of the special secret committee, examined William Leary who had come to town from Orange County on the seventeenth in search of a runaway servant of Erskine’s Bigwood Ironworks. Leary found the absconder but lost him at the Powles Hook Ferry to a Sergeant who enlisted the man in Captain Roosevelt’s Company. While waiting at the ferry, Leary chanced upon one James Mason, who previously had been in the employ of the operator of the ironworks but had been discharged. After some cautious fencing, Mason confided that he and several companions had sworn to quit New York and go on board a British man-of-war. Until they could be carried out safely to the ship, they were receiving wages and provisions, he said, from a man who represented the Mayor of the city or the Governor of the Colony. Leary then went with Mason to visit Mason’s friends and later made an attempt to lure them to one of the American camps, but they became suspicious and scattered. Leary’s testimony to the committee was that enlistment for service aboard a British ship was in progress and that the Mayor or the Governor was alleged to be paying the costs. Leary believed the money came from Mayor Matthews but was not certain.
It was on the basis of the testimony of Mason and Leary that the committee asked Washington to take Matthews into custody. Matthews surrendered at his residence without resistance, but no written evidence was found there. Gilbert Forbes, a gunsmith incriminated by Leary’s statements, was also apprehended and taken before the committee but he was unwilling to say anything. The next morning, a young minister, Robert Livingston, visited him and sympathetically exhorted him to tell the truth as he probably had only a few days of life. This stirred Forbes either to clear his conscience or to try to save his neck. He offered to go before the committee and confess everything. The net thereupon was carefully and widely spread. Even suspects who belonged to Washington’s Headquarters Guard had no warning of danger until they were confronted with the bayonets of the Provost Marshal’s men.
Matthews was examined on June 23 before Philip Livingston, Jay and Morris. Washington believed that Matthews was guilty and that the conspiracy originated with Governor Tryon, but he concerned himself first with the allegation that soldiers of his own Guard, even, had been charged with crimes that ranged from threats of desertion to treasonable communication with the enemy. The men who had been plotting together apparently had considered little that was definite, but they had talked vaguely of destroying King’s Bridge to cut off reenforcements and of seizing a battery when the fleet attacked. Conspiracy must be dealt with immediately. Drummer William Greene of the General’s Guard, though among those most criminally involved, was willing to confess and throw himself on the mercy of the court. The most obdurate suspect was Hickey, one of two Continental soldiers jailed for an alleged attempt to pass counterfeit. After his arrest for trafficking in bad money, he and his companion, Lynch, were said by one witness to have sworn they never would fight any more for America. Hickey and Lynch had boasted, moreover, that almost seven hundred men had promised to stand by the King, and the two culprits confided to other inmates of the jail that the American Army had become damnably corrupted, that the fleet was soon to arrive, and that a band was to turn against the Americans then. Eight of the General’s Guard, Hickey had said, were participants in the plan.
In these circumstances, it seemed best to make an example of Hickey. He was arraigned before a court-martial on the twenty-sixth. Greene and other witnesses adhered to their previous statements; Hickey produced no witnesses and only a pathetically feeble defence. The verdict was immediate and unanimous, death by hanging, a sentence which Washington confirmed the next day and put in execution a little before noon June 28. As far as the records show, no other was punished, though Mayor Matthews was in jail. Washington believed some of the Tories capable of almost any crime to defeat the American cause, but, with characteristic restraint, he said of Hickey’s execution, “I am hopeful this example will produce many salutary consequences and deter others from entering into like traitorous practices.” That was written at a time when events more serious, by far, than a scotched conspiracy, called for Washington’s attention.
On the day Matthews had been arrested, June 22, an express from General Schuyler had reached Washington with news that contradicted all the high hopes in the letters from Sullivan. Thompson had proceeded to Three Rivers, had attacked the British, and had sustained a reverse on June 8. He and a considerable number of his officers and men surrendered. The remainder of the original force of approximately two thousand counted themselves lucky in getting back to Sorel, which it now was manifest the Americans could not hold. By the evening of the twenty-third Washington had dispatches which indicated that the only question in dispute among the officers immediately responsible for operations in Canada was the depth of their withdrawal. Some of those who should have best judgment on the issue thought the Army should not attempt to hold a position north of Crown Point, 150 miles south of Sorel. Arnold, meantime, on the night of June 15 had evacuated Montreal with his force of three hundred and had proceeded to He aux Noix. As reunited at that point, the American forces numbered approximately seven thousand men, about half of whom were sick and unfit for duty.
Washington was profoundly alarmed by this reverse; Canada was lost; Sullivan would be fortunate if he could escape and, with Schuyler’s help, fortify and hold the passes of the New York lakes. Gates must proceed north at once and take command of the troops under the discouraged but still ambitious Sullivan. No detailed orders could be given the new Major General. Gates could hope to accomplish little unless there was early attainment of the goal set in Congress’ resolution of June 25 that “the number of men destined for the Northern Department be augmented to 4000.” To provide reenforcement Congress at length had heeded Washington’s plea for a bounty and offered ten dollars to every sergeant, corporal and private soldier who would enlist for three years.
Gates had to do what he could in reorganizing the broken forces that had survived the campaign. Washington, for his part, had to face the high probability that soon the British would be hammering at both ends of the waterline and portages that linked the St. Lawrence with Sandy Hook. If Gen. John Burgoyne already had begun the ascent of the Richelieu, it could not be long before Howe would be pointing the bows of his ships up the Hudson. While giving all possible assistance to Gates’s expedition, Washington had to struggle with the supreme vexation of command, that of trying to achieve quickly and securely what ignorant men with rude implements and feeble equipment were apt to do slowly, awkwardly, and in slovenly style. Fortunately, brigade and regimental organization now was familiar with its duties and was able to take some of the detail off the hands of the commanding General.
So much had to be done! The establishment of a Troop of Light Horse had to be approved and encouraged; fortification had to be pressed; obstructions were placed in North River to discourage a naval commander who might feel confident he could pass the batteries; arrangement had to be made for the prompt summons of the militia from other Colonies when the fleet hove in sight; greater vigilance in the patrol of nearby waters was ordered to prevent communication between ship and shore; additional arms were sought from captured stores in Boston; snarls in the negotiations of Schuyler with the Indians had to be untangled.
Information that appeared to be indisputable was laid before the busy General on June 28 that Howe had left Halifax for New York on June 9 with 130 sail. It was reported that his flagship already was at Sandy Hook. Washington at once called on the authorities of Massachusetts and Connecticut to “lose not a moment’s time in sending forward the militia of your province as the enemy will undoubtedly attack us in our weak state as soon as a sufficient force arrives to enable them to attempt it with the least probability of success. . . .” About nine o’clock the next morning, as officers looked through The Narrows to the high ground on Staten Island, they saw flags were up—the agreed signal that the British fleet was in sight. By the time Washington sat down to write a dispatch to the President of Congress forty-five ships had come in; when an express arrived from the lower bay about 2 P.M., he reported that almost one hundred rigged vessels had arrived and had anchored in the Hook. Washington called a council to review plans for defence; and he wrote briefly and grimly to Hancock without any attempt at literary finish or rhetorical flourish: “I am hopeful before [the British] are prepared to attack that I shall get some reenforcements, but be that as it may, I shall attempt to make the best disposition I can for our troops, in order to give them a proper reception, and to prevent the ruin and destruction they are meditating against us.” There was no blinking the desperate task ahead of him and no disposition to ignore the possibility that the enemy’s men-of-war might slip past the batteries on the shores of the North River and pass upstream to a junction with Burgoyne.
Preparation at New York was hampered by the shortage of senior officers. Now that Thomas had died and Gates had followed Lee away from Headquarters that were the Colonies’ one military training school, Washington had a single Major General at New York, “Old Put.” Washington also was encumbered by a mass of paper work he could not pass on readily to the inexperienced men who had joined his small staff. The American force at Washington’s command was being increased slowly, and some days scarcely at all, by the militia for whom Washington continued to call urgently. The term of the rifle companies was expiring; few of these men were willing to reenlist. Then, as the militia of Massachusetts seemed loath to assemble and start a march for the relief of New York, Washington had to arrange for the transfer of three of the five regiments of Continental troops he had left in the Bay Colony. The exposed situation in Jersey made him all the more anxious to see Congress organize the Flying Camp that had been authorized. He had to get Martha started homeward, because New York under threat of attack was no place for her, and he had as much vexation and anxiety as he would permit himself concerning developments in northern New York.
Sullivan had reached Crown Point with all his troops except six hundred whom he had left to assist the armed vessels on Lake Champlain. He was somewhat apologetic; but he was in better spirits and felt as strongly as ever ambition to command. Within a few days he learned that Gates had been sent north to take charge of operations, and he blazed with resentment. He asked Schuyler to permit him to leave the department, with the intimation that he would resign. Schuyler, smoothing him down, gave permission for him to go to see Washington; but Schuyler himself was engaged in controversy with Gates over their respective authority. Schuyler maintained that Gates had no control of the northern troops except in Canada; Gates contended that he had command of the little army wherever it was. Both men displayed candor and good temper, but neither yielded anything to the other. Washington read with regret of their clash and referred it to Congress with a request for prompt decision. With a veritable palisade of British masts down the harbor, Washington felt he could best leave such a dispute to the gentlemen in Philadelphia.
The movements of the British fleet indicated that Howe was about to attack one part or another of the district around New York. On July 1 many vessels raised sail, came closer to The Narrows and anchored off Gravesend, Long Island. Washington sent five hundred men to strengthen the force stationed there under Nathanael Greene. The next day some of the British men-of-war were within eight hundred yards of Long Island; before nightfall approximately fifty-five had maneuvered close to Staten Island and anchored. A heavy British landing on Staten Island, July 3, deepened concern; but when the enemy began throwing up works there, July 5, Washington concluded that his adversaries had no more serious immediate design than to make themselves masters of the island, a stronghold of Tory feeling. Other information suggested that the British might be planning an advance in Jersey simultaneously with an attack on New York by another column, which would have the support of the fleet. This operation, it was thought, the British would not undertake prior to the arrival of Gen. William Howe’s brother, Richard, Admiral Viscount Howe, newly appointed to the command of the North American Station. Prediction was that he soon would reach Sandy Hook with 150 sail and more troops.
Washington a year before had held at Cambridge his first council of war. Incredibly, in the twelve months that had elapsed, he had fought no battle. Not once had lines been drawn where Americans and British exchanged volleys. Washington had demonstrated that he could organize, train, discipline and administer an army. By complete devotion to duty, justice to his men, moderation of judgment and unchallengeable integrity he had become the symbol of what the best of the Americans wished their cause to represent. But the stubborn fact remained: he had fame without fight. Now it would be different. It had to be; Howe, not he, had the initiative. Washington and the Army had to meet the test of battle—and meet it now with the assurance that if they failed, nobody would plead for mercy on devoted, if errant subjects of the King. The Delegates in Philadelphia had renounced that allegiance. On the evening of the fourth, the rumor spread that the Congress in Philadelphia had declared the Colonies independent. It was not until July 9 that official notice was at hand for Washington to include the intelligence in General Orders:
The Hon. The Continental Congress, impelled by the dictates of duty, policy and necessity, having been pleased to dissolve the Connection which subsisted between this Country, and Great Britain, and to declare the United Colonies of North America, free and independent States. . . .
There was a report on the tenth that British regulars in large number were drawn up at the Staten Island ferry. Before Washington could be certain whether this forecast an incursion of the Jersey shore, he had alarming proof that Howe was preparing for the long-dreaded move to open the Hudson to the British. On the afternoon of July 12, the forty-gun Phoenix and the Rose, twenty guns, with the accompanying schooner Tryal and two tenders, were seen to move towards North River. The alarm was sounded; within twenty-five minutes the vessels were close enough to the town for the American batteries on both shores to open. In comparison with the days of stinted artillery fire at Boston, there was a veritable avalanche of round shots and even a few shells; but few of these projectiles hulled the British oak. In a short time the two men-of-war, the schooner and the tenders were up the river, almost intact, and ere long were casting anchor in the Tappan Sea. The vessels, in the judgment of the American commander, were to be employed to stop the shipment of supplies between New York and Albany by land as well as by water or the crews were to put arms ashore for the Tories of the region. Washington was prompt to urge vigilant defence of the highland passes, and he was relieved to hear from the Commissary General that interruption of the flow of supplies would not hamper operations in northern New York. Sufficient food was stored there, Washington was told, to provide for ten thousand men over a period of four months.
One serious aspect of this affair of the Phoenix and the Rose was the misbehavior of many American soldiers, who, at the sounding of the alarm, should have hurried to their posts. They did almost everything except that. Not more than half the artillerists even went to the guns. Hundreds of the troops appeared to forget their duty in watching the race of the ships up the stream. “Such unsoldierly conduct,” Washington said the next day in General Orders, “must grieve every good officer, and give the enemy a mean opinion of the Army, as nothing shows the brave and good soldier more than in case of alarms, coolly and calmly repairing to his post and there waiting his orders, whereas a weak curiosity at such a time makes a man look mean and contemptible.”
While the ill-disciplined American troops were running up the east bank of the Hudson something potentially more serious was happening in the lower harbor: a tall ship flying St. George’s flag at her fore topmast head was making her way to anchorage. Experienced seafaring men identified her as the Eagle and knew from the position of her flag that she had a vice admiral aboard. Vice Admiral Lord Howe had arrived; behind him would come transports and escorts that were supposed to number 150 sail, with a reenforcement of fifteen thousand men.
This was a prospect of adverse odds for the American commander of Continentals and militia who did not reach a higher aggregate than that of the hostile reenforcement. To strengthen the small American force, New England was to be stripped of Continentals who were to be brought to the mouth of the Hudson or were to be sent to Gates as soon as they were free of smallpox. Indians were to be enlisted; artillerymen were to be recruited; troops already in service were to receive the bounty of ten dollars, if they, like the recruits, enlisted for three years; further militia drafts were to be expected.
Suddenly there was an entirely new development. On the afternoon of July 12 a messenger brought word that a British naval officer had come up the harbor with a flag of truce and a letter which he desired to deliver to Washington. Some intimation was given that the paper might not be addressed acceptably, for which reason Washington immediately called into council the Generals close at hand. They agreed with him that he should give safe conduct to any officer who brought an official message to him as American commander but that he should not receive any communication that did not recognize his position as head of an organized force. Reed met the British officer and found the letter was addressed: “George Washington, Esq.”
“You are sensible, sir,” Reed said, “of the rank of General Washington in our Army.”
“Yes, sir, we are,” replied Lieutenant Brown of the Eagle, “I am sure Lord Howe will lament exceedingly this affair, as the letter is quite of a civil nature and not a military one. He laments exceedingly that he was not here a little sooner.”
That ended it, except as the Americans wondered whether the final remark of the British officer meant that Lord Howe regretted he had not reached New York before the Declaration of Independence.
Washington decided he should submit his action for the approval of Congress, and he wrote at once for further instruction. Evidently, Lord Howe wished to negotiate and, while endeavoring to do so, might not strike a blow. This judgment was confirmed on July 16 by the tender, again declined, of a letter to “George Washington, Esq., &ca, &ca.” On the seventeenth there came a third flag with an inquiry whether His Excellency, General Washington, would receive the Adjutant General of General Howe. Immediate assurance of the American commander’s willingness to do this was given, with the result that an appointment for noon on the twentieth was made.
Washington dressed for the occasion with much care. The visitor proved to be Lieut. Col. James Patterson, a suave and experienced officer. Colonel Patterson proceeded to explain that Lord Howe and his brother the General had large powers as the King’s commissioners to settle the unhappy differences with America. Patterson wished his visit to be considered as the first advances to that end. Washington was prepared for this approach, which he met with the statement that he had no authority to treat on that subject. He added in plain words that he thought the Howe brothers were empowered only to grant written pardons. These papers, said the General, were not desired by Americans who felt they had committed no fault but were defending their indisputable rights. This discouraged Colonel Patterson who then brought the conversation to the exchange of specific prisoners.
Definite encouragement was found in news received a few hours after Patterson’s departure to the effect that Charles Lee and the South Carolinians had beaten off Sir Henry Clinton’s attack on Charleston. Along the front for which Washington was responsible, everything indicated a desperate contest of doubtful issue as soon as ships brought the final contingent of Howe’s army. In Washington’s own Army, hot weather and bad water were causing much sickness; desertion was on the increase. Provincial jealousies showed themselves ominously.
In northern New York and in Canada, Washington had “more trouble and concern,” than in front of Howe. Among the difficulties was that of placating Sullivan. Before Sullivan arrived July 21, Washington learned that the Generals of the Northern Department had decided on a withdrawal to Ticonderoga. This had seemed to some of the field officers so dangerous a move that twenty-one of them had joined in a formal protest. Washington himself had never been on the northern lakes but some of the Generals and senior colonels in New York were familiar with that country. Their description and the argument advanced in the protest almost convinced Washington that a mistake had been made in the abandonment of Crown Point in favor of Ticonderoga. Washington stated this to Gates. A sense of danger made Washington less careful than otherwise he would have been in addressing even so close a comrade as Gates, and Gates and Schuyler, forgetting their own rivalries, made common cause in denouncing what they took to be the judgment of a council of war in New York on their strategy. Before he could restore understanding, Washington had to withdraw somewhat from his criticism of the decision to quit Crown Point.
The number of British sail off Staten Island was rising ominously. Almost daily the lookout reported ships in the offing. August 1 brought approximately forty vessels, which Washington took to be the transports of part of the expected Hessian force. Regularly he would receive from the lookout on Long Island a report of arriving and departing vessels and of boats that passed from ship to shore, but the American commander could not learn anything specific about the men those dark hulls hid. He could go to sleep at night knowing that every ship of the British fleet was in its place, but he had to admonish himself that the next morning he might find all of them riding near the shore of Long Island, in line off the Grand Battery, or preparing to ascend East or North River to land troops in his rear.
Washington had finished a letter to Congress on August 7 when he was informed that two men who had deserted from the fleet had told an almost incredible tale: Their ship was among those that had arrived August 1, but they did not belong to Hessian reenforcement. They were part of the army of Sir Henry Clinton; they had been sent to South Carolina and, having been repulsed there, had joined General Howe in order to share in the capture of New York and the occupation of New Jersey. Clinton! He had been left out of all calculations regarding New York after he had gone south. Now he was back. Washington had to admit that this had not been anticipated.
Washington had not asked and Congress on its own initiative had done nothing for an increase in the number of Continental regiments in the Army directly under his command. Besides, it was now too late to recruit on a large scale for a campaign that might develop within a week. If help was forthcoming at all, it must be from the Flying Camp being set up in New Jersey and from the militia. These two sources were in reality one, because the ten thousand men proposed as a Flying Camp were to be militia from the Middle Colonies; and all of the additional fifteen thousand Congress had asked of Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania were of the same category. Both forces were to be employed to December 1 unless sooner discharged. The principal difference among these contingents would lie in the possibility that some of the more populous and patriotic States would forward their quotas with less than the normal delay. Washington resolved that he would do his utmost to speed the militia of the nearest Colonies, but there could be no certainty regarding the number of militiamen who would be available, the time they would arrive or the spirit in which they would fight. While Washington sought reenforcement wherever it could be mustered, he had at his disposal no more than ten thousand effectives in a total of 17,225, with whom he had to oppose an army of thirty thousand experienced veterans on a front of approximately fifteen miles.
These perplexities were presented when Washington’s staff scarcely was able to cope with day-by-day problems. Transfer of Gates to the Canadian command had been so recent that the new Adjutant General, Reed, could not be expected in an acute crisis to discharge all the duties of that office. Besides this untrained administrative officer, Washington had two new aides and an assistant secretary, Alexander Contee Hanson, who was unfamiliar with the office. As Moylan had left Headquarters to undertake his new labors as Quartermaster General, the Commander-in-Chief was dismally burdened. Occasionally he would seek to have others transact business that came to his desk, but he was loath to call for more assistance in his office. It was July 25 when he brought himself to explain his circumstances and ask of Congress “an increase of my Aid de Camps”—a request the Delegates answered in the singular. Besides more secretaries, Washington needed additional senior officers, needed them desperately, and had written Congress on the subject. He had one Major General only, Israel Putnam, though three were the minimum to discharge essential duty. Three Brigadiers were desired in New York, also, and an equal number, or more, were required elsewhere. Congress was quick to respond with the promotion of Heath, Spencer, Sullivan and Greene to the rank of Major General, and of six colonels to brigade command.
Ninety-six ships or more came into the lower harbor on August 12 and 13. Approximately twenty others dropped anchor on the fourteenth. These, surely, must be bringing the Hessians and must be the last of the tremendous fleet. If they were, then the onslaught would come in a few days. On the fourteenth, there was much stir of small boats and indications both of landing and embarking troops, but Washington’s last reports of the day were that the newly arrived Hessians were being put ashore on Staten Island. A heavy rain that day disrupted movement, broke a long drought and ushered in a brief, blusterous period of sickness and uncertainty. “The badness of the weather,” Washington told his men, “has undoubtedly prevented an attack,” and he admonished them to keep their canteens filled and have two days’ dressed rations on hand.
There was some good news along with the bad. Militiamen arrived in such numbers that by the nineteenth they had raised Washington’s total strength to twenty-three thousand. Another gratifying item was an attack August 16 of fire-rafts on the Phoenix and the Rose. This failed after threatening for a time to set the larger ship aflame; but the daring move so alarmed the British commander that he abandoned his station and rejoined the fleet. For the moment the Hudson again was open to the Americans, but they had woes enough. The long, dry weather had polluted the water supply; the chill days of rain were attended by much sickness. In some regiments all the field officers were incapacitated. Foremost among the victims was the man in command of what might be the battleground—Nathanael Greene on Long Island. His had been the duty of watching the enemy’s movements and of guarding an estimated one hundred thousand pastured cattle and an even larger number of sheep. This livestock could not be removed to the mainland though it would supply food for months to an adversary whose landing could not be prevented. Greene had developed more in Washington’s fourteen months of command than had almost any other officer. He was the man who probably could get the utmost in wholehearted defence from the troops allotted him; and now he had to report himself confined to bed with a raging fever. Greene’s early discharge of military duty was impossible; someone had to be assigned in his stead—and who?
Washington’s choice fell on Sullivan. That officer had little or no acquaintance with the island, but in Washington’s opinion he was the best available man for a most difficult assignment. He appreciated the importance of Long Island and believed that it had to be held if New York City was to remain in American hands. To Long Island, Sullivan went on August 20, under orders that made plain the assignment was temporary. Gen. Lord Stirling was to command Sullivan’s Division during the service of that officer at Greene’s post.
The day after Sullivan was named, several ships of the British fleet, crowded with soldiers, dropped down from the anchorage to The Narrows. Whether these vessels were bound on some special mission or were making the first move in an operation all the warships were to share, Washington could not ascertain before darkness. The next morning more of the four hundred transports and thirty-seven men-of-war off Staten Island had gone to The Narrows. Then came ominous intelligence: British troops were disembarking on the shore of Gravesend Bay, Long Island; Sir Henry Clinton’s Grenadiers and the Light Infantry formed the van; the force already ashore numbered about eight thousand. Detachments had pushed on to Flatbush, a village about three miles from the outer American positions. Six battalions were promptly hurried across East River. The men went off in fine fighting mood, though some of them were without prescribed provisions.
Morning reports on the 23rd were, in effect, “No change.” The enemy had extended his front but had delivered no attack during the night. Washington thought this increased the probability that Long Island was to be the sole immediate objective of the British, but he did not feel he should leave Manhattan Island until flood tide passed without indication of attack there. Then, as he could discern no preparations aboard the British fleet for a new landing, he had five more battalions made ready and crossed to Long Island. Either his observations there or pleas of Putnam convinced him it would be well to send that General to the island to supervise the defence. Putnam went accordingly—and to his immense satisfaction. Washington observed, studied the ground and the disposition of the forces and then returned to New York. There late in the day, he received from Sullivan a dispatch that told of an affair in which the British had been worsted. Washington doubted whether the attack of the Redcoats was on the scale the Major General thought, but as the repulsed advance might be the first move of a larger effort, Washington decided to send four more regiments and post them where they could be used by Sullivan or ferried back to New York.
On the morning of the twenty-fourth it still seemed to the anxious Commander-in-Chief that his powerful adversary would not be content to strike one blow only. Washington was deepened, too, in his conviction that with his inferior forces he could do no more than hold his works and the approaches to them. Offensive operations were precluded unless Governor Trumbull of Connecticut could organize a force of perhaps one thousand men to cross the sound and harass the British who otherwise would be free to ravage nearly the whole of Long Island. Washington asked the Governor to do this, though with little faith in the accomplishment of it. Then, once again, Washington went to Long Island, rode along the front and saw enough to draw from him a firm and reproachful letter to Putnam. The soldiers, Washington wrote, were wasting their shots; riflemen should be placed in a wood near a strategically important fortification at Red Hook; traps and ambuscades must be prepared; a line must be drawn and held.
Nine Connecticut militia regiments, approximately three thousand men, reported on the twenty-sixth. Otherwise, there was no great change in the situation. If new intelligence reports contained anything positive it was to the effect that British attacks at two points were not in preparation. “We are led to think,” Washington now wrote Congress, “[the British] mean to land the main force of their army on Long Island, and to make their grand push there.” More American troops were rowed across to strengthen Putnam. The essential of American strategy was holding Brooklyn Heights, which commanded East River and New York. To secure Brooklyn, a line of parapets and a string of forts had been constructed near the western tip of Long Island from the salt marshes overlooking Wallabout Bay to those of Gowanus Creek, which were believed to be impassable. About a mile and a half from this man-made line was the nearest point of the natural defences of Brooklyn—a long row of hills almost parallel to the fortifications.
Putnam decided to guard in person the main defensive line of Brooklyn and to deputize Sullivan to the management of the battle on the “outwork” of the hills. Sullivan followed traditional seniority: he put Stirling in command of the right. Direct command of the centre and supervision of the left were under himself. His left element was Col. Samuel Miles’s Pennsylvania Regiment of Stirling’s Brigade, which had its exposed flank in the air. Miles was under orders to patrol in the direction of the road that led around the eastern end of the ridge to Jamaica; but as he had no mounted troops, he did not attempt to place vedettes far in advance or to maintain them anywhere outside his lines at night.
Washington observed and doubtless approved the principal dispositions. Everything he saw and heard of the enemy indicated that the blow was about to fall. Additional troops had been brought ashore by the British; the hostile camps, where visible, were astir. If an attack of magnitude was in the making, it had to be upgrade through the woods, Washington reasoned, and it could be hampered by the parties that had been posted along the routes over the hills. On the assumption that his soldiers behaved well, Washington could hope his main strategical objective would be achieved to the extent that by holding the approaches to his position at Brooklyn, he could withdraw safely and in good order to that line after taking stiff toll of the enemy.
About 1 A.M. the alarm was sounded at the front; General Putnam was notified; he aroused Stirling and sent that officer and Gen. Samuel H. Parsons to the right front. Sullivan went out in general command. Counting four hundred already in front on three roads—Gowanus, Flatbush and Bedford—there now were approximately 3500 American troops on the high wooded ground along slightly less than three miles. On the right, this reenforcement seemed adequate. Eight o’clock of a clear, cool and pleasant day found the opposing forces briskly skirmishing. It probably was about this time that Washington reached the scene from New York. He had directed the movement to the island of reenforcements, and he had watched with anxiety the effort of five British war vessels to enter East River so that they might bombard the rear of American positions in Brooklyn and sever communications with New York. Mercifully, the wind had shifted against the British and favored the Americans.
On the island, the American commander faced the first pitched battle he ever had directed. At the moment, there was little that he could do. Stirling seemed to be holding his own on the right. On the centre and left, though the Hessians persisted in their fire, they gave no indication that they intended to advance within the next hour or so. Every experienced soldier reasoned the British would not be demonstrating so widely unless they planned a heavy blow. Even so, orderly withdrawal to the fortified line of Brooklyn should be entirely possible.
At nine o’clock the sound of a cannon shot was audible, followed immediately by another—signal guns, undoubtedly: British troops in large number were on the Bedford Road, in rear of Sullivan’s men who were facing the Hessians around Flatbush. In an amazingly short time the Redcoats were pushing forward. Soon the British would cut off Stirling’s line of retreat to the fortifications. Unseen and unopposed, the enemy had gone around the eastern end of the hills and then had turned to the left and south. A surprise had been executed as complete as that which had overwhelmed Braddock. The British quickly covered their left and pressed furiously onward. At the signal, the Hessians pushed up the wooded ridge. The troops in front of Stirling abandoned their teasing tactics and opened in earnest. Everywhere the command seemed to be the same—to force the American volley and then close with the bayonet before the Continentals could reload.
Outwitted and outnumbered, the troops saw no alternative to destruction except immediate retreat. By early afternoon, most of the Continentals who had escaped the bayonets of the British had reached the Brooklyn defences, where Washington himself shared the work of rallying them. “Remember what you are contending for,” he cried to some of them but he did not have at hand the leaders the men knew best. Stirling was missing. Sullivan had failed to fight his way out. Several promising officers were known to have been killed. Casualties obviously ran into the hundreds and might rise higher because the British were drawing nearer, as if they were preparing to assault the American line. Some officers, at least, became conscious of the weakness of the defences in front of Brooklyn. Troops were put to work to complete several fortifications, particularly those that were designed to cover the approaches on the Jamaica Road; but in the haste and excitement of the afternoon hard tasks were slighted and dangerous duty was dodged. The one immediate relief was the discovery that the British men-of-war had been able to do no more than send a few shots in the direction of the fort at Red Hook and then, in the face of an ebbtide, anchor out of range. The royal regiments in front of Brooklyn might or might not be held off; there was no danger the defences would be bombarded from the rear that evening.
MAP / 10
THE LONG ISLAND APPROACHES TO
THE BROOKLYN DEFENSES
After the action the British drew back, out of cannon range, and halted as if they had other plans afoot than those of an assault. It was a respite; it must not be an informal truce. American officers still had sufficient fight left to order riflemen into a wood near the British front. From that cover the marksmen opened a steady fire after 4 P.M. This irritated the British and cramped their movement without provoking either a farther withdrawal or an attempt to clear the Americans from among the trees. Were the British and Hessians being rested for a night attack? Such trained and experienced regulars were able to execute that difficult maneuver, even over unfamiliar ground, but now Washington began to suspect that, instead of attacking forthwith, Howe might prefer to undertake regular approaches.
Darkness fell and dragging minutes crept to a midnight that threatened never to come. There was no attack. Silence continued. Washington had some sleep but by four o’clock on the twenty-eighth he was astir. The British were still in the position they held the previous evening. Washington did what he could to see that the men found their regiments, got food, put their arms in order and, if wounded, had the attention of a surgeon. Out in East River, the wind still favored the Continentals; communication between Long Island and New York could be maintained.
Anxiously the morning passed without a British movement. Afternoon brought a measure of temporary security at the price of hours of wretched discomfort. A cold rain fell on ground already watersoaked. The temperature dropped; chill and moisture pervaded everything; it was impossible for many of the soldiers to keep even their firearms dry.
On the morning of the twenty-ninth Washington saw through the downpour the carefully drawn outline of a British redoubt, for which the enemy had broken ground during the night. The earthwork was arrogantly close—not more than six hundred yards from the American left—and on a site well chosen. Washington immediately accepted the rising mudbank as confirmation that the British were to undertake the capture of the American lines by regular approaches over a stretch of land favorable to that type of operation.
If Brooklyn was to be besieged, it was imperative that the wounded be sent to New York and that fresh troops take the place of those who were weary, wet and disheartened. Washington thought it probable that the British might attack New York while part of Howe’s army held him in Brooklyn and did not strip New York of its last guards. Instead, he called additional reenforcements from the Flying Camp of Gen. Hugh Mercer at Amboy. The number who could be supplied from that quarter was small and the troops themselves were newly mustered militia, but any help would be an encouragement.
The day wore on wearily, in unrelenting rain and deepened gloom. Arms could not be put in order; much ammunition was spoiled by dampness; honest-minded commanders had to ask themselves whether their wet and weary men could stay in the flooded trenches if the British delivered a strong attack. An alarming report came of the presence of British ships at Flushing Bay. There was fear that the British might be moving part of their troops to Flushing, perhaps to cross to the mainland and assail King’s Bridge. Added to these circumstances was the regretful assurance informed Brooklyn citizens gave that even if the obstructions in the main channel stopped the British men-of-war, armed ships of light draft could pass between Long Island and Governor’s Island. No obstruction had been placed on that stretch because the water had been regarded as so shallow that no vessel could nagivate there. This and almost every other strategical aspect of the operation were a reminder Washington scarcely needed—that he continued to keep his small Army dangerously divided in the face of an adversary who controlled the waterways and therefore could concentrate in force wherever desired, whenever wind and tide permitted.
These adversities combined so manifestly to threaten the destruction of the dispersed American Army that Washington felt he should consult his council of war. That afternoon, at Philip Livingston’s country house, he asked the seven Generals then in the Brooklyn defences whether, in the words of the minutes, “under all circumstances, it would not be eligible to leave Long Island and its dependencies, and remove the Army to New York.” The decision of the council was unanimous for evacuation and was affirmed in a brief paper to which all subscribed. Washington himself reduced the decision to its simplest terms when he said the decisive facts were the regular approaches of Howe over favorable ground and the prospect of being cut off by the fleet.
Preparation had to be started at once for the transfer of ten or twelve thousand men across East River in the darkness. In a short time the activity of officers, whispered exchanges, the arrival and dispatch of messengers made it plain to the troops that something was afoot. As the men speculated, many concluded they were to be called on to attack the British, but as quickly as possible after nightfall, men and moveables were sent to the ferry landing whence they were rowed to New York. The hours seemed agonizingly long for those who had to wait, and not long enough for officers charged with getting all the troops and equipment to New York. Effort tipped the scale. Before dawn all the men except a few sentinels had been put aboard. The heavy guns only had to be left behind, because they sank hub-deep in mud from which they could not be pulled by all the men who could put hand to rope.
The battle had been lost; the campaign must not be!
On August 30 and 31 the small garrison of Governor’s Island was transported to New York under the very eyes of British naval officers still balked by that persistent northeast wind, a strong if temporary American ally. Washington ruefully was reckoning the number of good leaders he had lost on Long Island. Stirling, cut off, had surrendered in person to Gen. Leopold von Heister; Sullivan had been caught on the twenty-seventh about a hundred yards from the post of one of the Hessian commanders. Now, on the thirtieth, Sullivan came over to New York on parole, sent by Lord Howe to give notice that the British Admiral wanted to see some members of Congress in order that he might explain to them the nature of the peace mission with which he and his brother, the General, were entrusted. Washington was of opinion that in a matter important in form, even if deceptive and fragile in substance, he should not deny Sullivan the privilege that officer sought of going to Philadelphia and repeating to the Delegates what Howe had told him. Off Sullivan rode—to put the match to a controversy hot and furious.
The success of the British operation, as Washington saw it, was due to lack of vigilance on the part of Sullivan’s men, who guarded the Flatbush and Bedford Roads but failed to prevent surprise along the Jamaica Road. Washington was justified in this judgment, to the extent at least that the field officers on the left had neither the force nor the experienced direction required to thwart a flank march soundly conceived and executed with brilliant precision. In plain words, the Redcoats had outclassed the Continentals. The American Commander-in-Chief had appeared to be a tyro, a bungler as well as a beginner, in comparison with the English General. Washington himself did not attempt to review the details and set down in full the reason for the defeat. The decision to evacuate Long Island was sound and militarily economical. A very different story might have been written had Washington attempted to escape the night after the battle or even August 28/29. He had been the more willing to take the risk of remaining until he could leave without heavy loss because he was inclined to think that Howe was going to undertake regular approaches. In this, Washington was correct. Despite urging by some of his subordinates, the British commander had refused to press his attack on the evening of the day he turned the American left.
The defeat led immediately to a crisis that absorbed Washington’s thought so completely he had no time for retrospect or for self-reproach: Before he could complete the reorganization of the Army necessitated by the death or capture of officers, he found, as he said, that “the check our detachment sustained . . . dispirited too great a proportion of our troops and filled their minds with apprehension and despair.” Militia began to melt away. Almost by regiments they left their camps and started home—discouraged and unpaid, disillusioned and embittered. Other temporary soldiers were coming from Massachusetts and Connecticut to take the place of those going home; but these unwilling recruits had no small arms, tents or even camp-kettles, and, in most instances, no stomach for a fight. Washington knew there would be some conscientious individuals among the Long Faces, but he did not believe these new militia, en masse, would be any better than the old.
The situation threatened the dissolution of the Army—in the face of a powerful, confident adversary free to maneuver almost at will because of British sea power. It was Washington’s good fortune and perhaps the salvation of America that the British, with the élan of victory, were under the command of a man whose innate caution was deepened by the desire of his brother, the Admiral, and by his own ambition to pursue negotiations for peace before employing to the utmost bayonets and cannons. General Howe’s slowness was a boon; it could not be an escape. Sooner or later the British would strike somewhere on the front of sixteen to eighteen miles defended by half-demoralized men whom Washington reckoned at less than twenty thousand effectives. The militia continued to slip away in such numbers that General Mercer did not believe Washington could muster among them more than five thousand dependable soldiers.
Certain defensive arrangements could be made. The enemy could be confronted with the most vigilant of the officers; reenforcements from Virginia and Maryland, as well as the incoming militia, could be hurried forward; the sick could be removed from exposed New York; surplus supplies could be hauled beyond the snatch of the British lion; seasoned troops could be taken from the forts and could be replaced by men of the Flying Camp; all the roads that flanked American positions could be blocked; North River could be obstructed more stoutly and could be subjected to a heavier cross fire from batteries; the garrisons of the highland defences of the Hudson might be strengthened; available troops might be posted where they could be moved quickly to meet any force landed from British transports. Other expedients might suggest themselves after the form of the attack on New York was disclosed; but would they, could they suffice? Nathanael Greene, well enough by September 5, was of opinion that no effort should be made to save the town. It should be burned and evacuated, he said; two-thirds of the property there belonged to Tories anyway. Heath argued that the city should be held, if possible. Rufus Putnam, acting Chief Engineer, considered fortification a waste of energy where so many landing places existed. Washington said, “Till of late I had no doubt in my mind of defending this place, nor should I have yet, if the men would do their duty, but this I despair of.” It was for Congress, he thought, to say whether the town should be destroyed or left alone. As he phrased it in its least painful form, the question was, “If we should be obliged to abandon the town, ought it to stand as winter quarters for the enemy?” The answer he gave himself was plain: he would apply the torch to the entire city if permitted to do so.
Congress had a different view, of which he was informed by September 6: “Resolved, That General Washington be acquainted, that the Congress would have especial care taken, in case he should find it necessary to quit New York, that no damage be done to the said city by his troops, on their leaving it: The Congress having no doubt of being able to recover the same, though the enemy should, for a time, obtain possession of it.” Washington read this in the belief that it might represent one of the capital errors of Congress, but he determined to make the best defence he could. Manhattan Island was thirteen miles in length. The town of New York occupied slightly less than the lower three miles. North of the town was the district called Bloomingdale. Beyond that, the land rose gradually in a rocky formation, known as Harlem Heights that ran southeast-northwest to a declivity about eight miles from the lower end of the island. Beyond this stretch the ground rose higher on the western side of the island and formed a cliff with an elevation of two hundred feet and a little more. King’s Bridge, which spanned Harlem River, was one of the important military positions. Whoever held firmly that crossing and its approaches could open or shut the gate upstate and into New England.
To cover King’s Bridge the Americans had constructed Fort Independence at the southern end of the Fordham Heights. On the cliff south of King’s Bridge the Continentals were erecting a large earthwork which they called Fort Washington. The whole of the adjoining high ground had recently been dubbed Mount Washington. Almost directly opposite these works was Fort Constitution, soon to be renamed Fort Lee, on the Jersey side of North River. Its fire and that of Fort Washington crossed where obstructions had been placed in the river to keep the British from using the Hudson. Below Mount Washington on Manhattan no large work had been erected except in New York City itself, but a high ridge could be used for defence against an adversary who commanded the plains of Harlem. In the city a redoubt had been erected on Bayard’s Hill, and trenches had been dug wherever a landing seemed likely or a field of fire was offered. Most of these works appeared later to a British observer to have been “calculated more to amuse than for use.” The key positions were King’s Bridge and Fort Washington. During the difficult days of early September Washington suspected that the enemy intended to land near King’s Bridge, hem him into the area south of Harlem and sever his communications. Proper disposition to meet such a move called for a council, which Washington brought together September 7. Over the vigorous opposition of Greene, a majority of the council recommended that an effort be made, as Congress desired, to hold New York.
The British by September 7 were feeling their way up East River with a contentious frigate and were completing a battery on Long Island opposite Horne’s Hook. On the eighth this battery opened but quickly drew the fire of American gunners who were confident of their skill after having had the better of exchanges with the British frigate. Then, on the tenth, the British occupied Montresor’s Island. From that post they could land either on the plains of Harlem, south of King’s Bridge, or on the Morrisania estate, whence they could flank the position at King’s Bridge by a march of six or seven miles. A bad situation was getting worse. Signs multiplied that the enemy’s attack was to be both north and south of King’s Bridge.
The apparent imminence of this two-pronged thrust at the vitals of the Army led Greene to circulate on September 11 a petition to Washington for review of the decision to defend New York. Washington himself believed it futile and perhaps fatal to attempt to hold the town, and he responded immediately with a call for a new council September 12. This time all except three of the participants were for the evacuation of the area south of Harlem River, with the exception of Fort Washington, as soon as supplies could be withdrawn. Washington reported this decision to Congress. He warned the President of Congress that the council regarded the situation as “extremely perilous.”
September 13 brought more evidence that the onslaught might be close at hand. A forty-gun ship started up East River and opened on the batteries, which responded angrily. British guns on Governor’s Island went into action. Washington rode over to one of the forts to see whether the movement of the enemy had begun, but he found no indication of an immediate landing. On the fourteenth came assurance from Congress that its resolution against the burning of New York was not to be construed to mean that Washington “should remain in that city a moment longer than he shall think it proper for the public service that the troops be continued there.” About sunset word reached Washington that six ships or more were proceeding to a station in East River, that British troops were being assembled on the islands in Hell Gate, and that widespread movement was observed by scouts and lookouts. Anxiously, Washington hurried to Harlem in the belief that the blow would fall there or across the mouth of Harlem River at Morrisania. On arrival he saw what others had reported but no additional preparation. Fire had not been opened; no landing had been attempted. Washington rode back to new Headquarters opened at the home of Roger Morris, near King’s Bridge and on Harlem Heights, whence he thought he could proceed more quickly to a threatened position than from his old office.
The next morning was quiet until about eleven o’clock, when a sound of heavy firing rolled up to King’s Bridge. It did not come from the plains of Harlem or from Morrisania but from a point farther down East River than Washington had expected. The apprehensive General started for the scene of the bombardment. While six transports had remained off Bushwick Point, five warships had left that temporary station at earliest dawn and had anchored broadside the New York shore from Kip’s Bay southward at a distance of about eleven hundred yards. Up North River at that very hour a trio of ships were making their way to Bloomingdale. If those men-of-war in North River were intended to cover a landing there simultaneous with one on East River, then the hour of decision had come.
About ten o’clock Americans who had a clear view of Newtown Cove on Long Island, saw British flatboats move out of the mouth of the creek and take shelter astern the transports. Men from other boats climbed up the sides of the ships, which manifestly were to convey the troops to some landing place—but what place? Eighty British guns began to roar shortly before 11 A.M. American supports did not venture within less than half a mile of the shore; the men who were expected to meet the first landing were pinned to their lines. Paralyzing fire continued for more than an hour. About 1 P.M. the bombardment ceased and different sounds became audible, shouted commands, the grinding of bows on the river bank, the dull percussion of heavy feet on boat bottoms, and then—British and Hessians splashing ashore and forming on both sides of Kip’s Bay, at one point within forty yards of the Continentals’ breastworks.
It was not long after this landing that Washington rode up at furious pace with his aides—only to find that the militiamen had abandoned their trenches without firing a shot and were retreating in mad confusion. Generals Parsons and Fellows were doing everything they could to rally the men but their commands were unheeded. Washington and the young officers with him rode among the scattered troops and tried to form them. It was in vain—Washington’s wrath rose. “Take the wall,” he shouted, “take the cornfield,” and he pointed to the positions. Some men filed out from the road to do as he said; Parsons tried to get them into a line, but the panic-stricken outnumbered those who kept their heads. Fellows’ Brigade broke and scattered. In Watts’s orchard, on the right of the assailed front, a few men disputed the advance of Hessians—only to see the Germans shoot down and bayonet Americans who came forward with uplifted hands to surrender. Nearer the landing place at Kip’s Bay Washington continued his efforts to rally the half-frenzied men, but just when it looked as if he might get some hundreds of them to stand, a body of sixty or seventy British soldiers started towards them. The Americans broke, ran away, and left Washington and his aides to face the attacking party without a single musket. Washington had to give ground himself and, intensely humiliated, had to send orders for Harlem Heights to be secured. Over on the Bloomingdale Road, about that time, the cry was raised that British light horse were attacking the rear. That completed the panic of some and speeded the retreat of the others. The British pursued as far as Murray’s Hill, while the advance was pushed towards Harlem Heights and was extended by the left flank across to North River.
This fixed the fate of New York. Establishment of the British line across the island put an end to the orderly evacuation of supplies by land, precisely as all water transit had been stopped early that morning by the dispatch of three British warships to Bloomingdale. The defeat was as grievous in loss of property as it was shameful in the cowardice it uncovered. There never had been a more outrageous affair and seldom so complete a British victory for so small an expenditure of blood and bullets. The action at Kip’s Bay was no more than a skirmish in itself, but it was of high importance in that it precipitated the evacuation of New York and deepened the anxiety of Washington over the morale of his soldiers and the competence of some of his commanders.
During the early morning of September 16 the General sent out reconnoitering parties and then he sat down to report to Congress on the humiliating events of the preceding day. He had not completed the drafting of his letter many minutes when word reached him that the enemy was astir. If there was even a possibility of an engagement that day, Washington wanted to be on the scene before action opened in order that he might guard against surprise and make proper disposition of his regiments. He soon set out and on his arrival at the advance posts heard firing to the south, occasioned by a clash between Lt. Col. Thomas Knowlton’s Rangers and a British advance party. The exchange was not in a volume to indicate anything more than a skirmish. Washington listened and prepared to receive attack, but he had no further report of a general advance by the main body of the British. Some time passed. Then a number of Knowlton’s men began to climb back up the hill to their own positions, where they gave encouraging news of a stiff encounter still in progress with a body of Redcoats who were concealed in a wood. Joseph Reed assured his chief that Knowlton’s men had done admirably and deserved support. Would the General approve an advance in some strength to encourage the men? As Washington pondered the British came in sight and sounded their bugles—not with a command to halt or deploy but with the call of hunters who have killed the fox and are ending their chase.
Whether or not this taunt angered him, Washington presently gave orders for a small demonstration directly in the enemy’s front. Knowlton simultaneously was to take his men and three rifle companies of Gen. George Weedon’s Third Virginia Regiment to get in rear of these contemptuous British. Washington saw the men start from the left of the line and made ready from Gen. John Nixon’s Brigade the force that was to demonstrate in front of the British. In the early afternoon Nixon’s men were sent down into the wide declivity that separated the northern part of Harlem Heights from Vandewater’s Heights, the next high ground to the south. The British, regarding this as a challenge, came down from Vandewater’s Heights and took position behind a fence and among bushes. Fire was opened at once but at too great a range to be effective.
Soon there came to Washington’s ears the sound of an exchange of musketry from the left front, but manifestly this fusillade was not from the rear of the British who had advanced to the fence. Something had gone awry: Instead of getting behind the enemy to cut off his retreat, Knowlton’s men had attacked the enemy’s right flank. Washington heard shortly that Maj. Andrew Leitch had been brought out with three bullets through his body. After him came Colonel Knowlton, mortally wounded. Washington concluded that the flanking column, now fighting under captains, needed further support and dispatched parts of two Maryland regiments and some New Englanders. Within a few minutes the enemy’s advance party was gone, ingloriously gone. American troops had not previously seen the enemy “on the run” and could not resist the temptation to pursue; but Washington reasoned that the British would send up reenforcements and did not think his shaken Army should risk a general engagement. He ordered the men to cease their pursuit and return to their lines.
The Americans had forced British troops to flee before them in the open field. That never had happened before. The British had retreated from Lexington and from Concord, but they had intended to return to Boston anyway. They had quit that city the next March, but they had not been worsted in a stand-up battle. The victory won by Lee in South Carolina had been an affair of naval guns. Long Island and Kip’s Bay were subjects too sore for mention. This time it was different: The Americans had proved that the British army was not invincible. Redcoats had backs! It was a great discovery. Washington was pleased but cautious. “The affair,” he said to Congress, “. . . seems to have greatly inspirited the whole of our troops.”
