CHAPTER SEVEN

VINDICATION

AS JOHN BARRY JOURNEYED TO YORK, Washington's army was freezing at Valley Forge. Private Joseph Plumb Martin, at sixteen already a survivor of the mud and lethal bombardment at Fort Mifflin, described the rations meted out as “a leg of nothing and no turnips.”1 The soldiers were perpetually starving. They went about in rags, taking shelter in the drafty log huts they built for winter quarters (one guard kept his post while standing on his head to keep his bare feet out of the snow).² The horrifying condition of the troops was not due to lack of congressional funds as much as lack of congressional foresight. From Maine to Georgia, farmers reaped a truly grand harvest the previous fall. But neither Congress nor Quartermaster General Thomas Mifflin—who was working around the clock with other officers and congressmen to have Washington replaced with General Horatio Gates—tried hard enough to get food and supplies to America's soldiers.³

In nearby Philadelphia, empty but for the small population of loyalists—including William Austin and Reynold Keen—and the warm and well-fed British Army, British commanders settled into the best Philadelphia homes. General Howe and his mistress moved into a handsome home on Sixth and High (Market) Streets, inspiring this bit of patriotic satire:

Sir William he, snug as a flea

Lay all this time a snoring

Nor dream'd of harm as he lay warm

In bed with Mrs. Loring.4

“Black Dick” Howe took up residence on Chestnut Street in a home so impressive that it later became the headquarters of a bank. Cornwallis ensconced himself in David Lewis's magnificent abode on Second and Spruce. Major John André, a favorite of Howe's due to his flair for theatrics, “dwelt in Dr. Franklin's mansion.” The Hessian Commander, Baron General Wilhelm von Knyphausen, “very honorable in his dealings,” took over John Cadwalader's home on South Second, where “exalted as he was in rank,” Knyphausen “used to spread his butter on his bread with his thumb.”⁵

British officers “held frequent plays at the old theatre, the performances by their officers.”⁶ The dates and addresses of their balls were published in the True Royal Gazette, one of the Tory papers now flourishing in the captured capital. Upon hearing of the British occupation of his hometown, Franklin acerbically commented that Howe had not taken Philadelphia. Philadelphia had taken Howe.⁷

Barry arrived in York, hoping to rely on his friends in Congress, especially those on the Marine Committee. It never occurred to him to refrain from confronting his accusers directly and immediately. His first supporter was his old employer. Morris, while asserting his neutrality regarding the Effingham affair, nevertheless put the committee's secretary, John Brown, at Barry's disposal, giving Brown two tasks: one, to keep Barry calm; and two, sequester him in a tavern room, where the accused captain could pour out his version of the events that brought him there in the first place.⁸ Brown, still smarting that Hopkinson's friends in Congress had thrown him in jail weeks earlier just for bringing them Howe's peace feeler, was more than happy to counsel Barry.⁹

The final draft, five long pages in Barry's own hand, was a thorough, well-delineated effort, in which he narrated what happened and his reactions. It did not sugarcoat his words or conduct. Brown may have smoothed over the rough edges and suggested a phrase or two, but it is pure Barry from beginning—“I think it necessary at this period to exculpate myself...nor do I aver that the following conversation passed only in the presence of Captain Read and the Board”—to end—“This Gentlemen is a true relation, as nearly as I can recollect, and I submit to your Honors judgment how far my conduct has been Blameable . . . . For my part, I shall think myself unworthy of the Commission the Honourable Congress has been pleased to give me could I tamely put up with different Treatment.”10

While he confined his account to the Effingham, he did take one swing at Hopkinson for his pompous attitude toward Barry and Read, in the hopes that Congress would discuss the issue of respect for the military by their civilian superiors: “I shall only add that it has been a principal Study with me to behave with the greatest respect to the Navy Board ever since their appointment and I would just suggest to your honors whether the good of the Service does not require the Captains of the Navy to be treated as Gentlemen with respect and as Gentlemen so long as they observe their Duty.”¹¹

Barry's case was taken up as “new business” by Congress on January 10, 1778.¹² Whatever cunning ploys and gamesmanship Hopkinson's friends might play behind the scenes, Barry's defense, bereft of apology for his words or actions, did garner support among those congressmen unfamiliar with the incident. It also won over some of Hopkinson's colleagues who had been similarly treated by Barry's antagonist.

Barry's defense was read into the minutes of Congress on January 13, and immediately referred back to the Marine Committee for resolution. (That same day, they wrote Thomas Read, rewarding his desire “to be active in the service of your Country” with “Command of the Continental Brig Baltimore.” Read left hearth, home, and wife—his new bride having joined him in White Hill—and departed for Baltimore.¹³)

By this time Barry's plan of action against the British was being discussed openly. Since his forced exile at Bordentown, he had been developing a scheme to strike back at the British along the Delaware, hoping to take the barges of the Effingham and Washington below Philadelphia, manned with the seamen becalmed at Bordentown. Once south of the city, they could harass and perhaps even capture British supply ships. The Royal Navy was the main source of supplies to Howe's army, and the Delaware their only route. Barry's plan met with approval from Washington when he visited Valley Forge, and now the Marine Committee expressed enthusiasm. Further, Barry's friends on the committee saw his plan as their opportunity to support the captain openly against Hopkinson without getting personal.14

In Bordentown, Hopkinson and Wharton were still beset with problems. There were now close to five hundred sailors in town, and their need for food and clothing was as great as that of Washington's army. Morale, already low, had plummeted like the thermometer. Food was intermittently distributed, but at least it came more often than pay.¹⁵

Like Barry, Hopkinson was involved with plans to strike back at the British, but these only proved to be acts of overly clever desperation and insufficient planning. The first two involved the French engineer Major Fleury. He proposed setting twelve boats afire, with sharp iron pikes at their bows to attach themselves to enemy ships and sending them south in favorable winds. This did not pass a test run. Next, he wanted several volunteers to carry shirts packed with sulfur across the river below Bordentown at Cooper's Ferry by walking across the ice, then set fire to the shirts once they got close to British ships. This far-fetched scheme was never attempted: cold as it was, it was not cold long enough to allow the Delaware to thoroughly freeze. Curiously, Washington liked the idea, if “some desperate fellows” could be found to (a) travel the river when it did freeze and (b) carry such a flammable garment with the degree of stealth and fool's courage the gambit warranted.¹⁶ No takers came forward.

Hopkinson's father-in-law, Colonel Borden, was enamored of a plan by David Bushnell, one of the first pioneers in developing the submarine. Bushnell came up with a weapon comprised of underwater mines floated by buoys and kegs. On January 5, Bushnell let loose his kegs on the Delaware. For all his calculations, and the ardent support of Borden and Hopkinson, Bushnell did not seek out assistance or advice from Hazelwood, who certainly knew the Delaware as well as anyone in Bordentown. Perhaps Bushnell knew Hazelwood would not approve such a far-fetched idea.17 Years later, one Philadelphian recalled that “when the scheme was set in operation, the British fearing the making of ice, had warped in their shipping to the wharfs, and so escaped much of the intended mischief.”¹⁸ Apparently, the kegs floated harmlessly down the river without a chance to strike the safely moored British vessels.

Barry's plan, lacking burning shirts and kegs, involved boats, men, and risk, but he would not be in command if Hopkinson had anything to do with it. As soon as he received word of Barry's proposal from his informants in Congress, Hopkinson sent Charles Alexander, late of the captured Delaware, to visit Washington with a similar proposal nominating Alexander as commander.¹⁹ Hopkinson also began holding Congress' feet to the fire as far as his accusations against Barry were concerned. More than two weeks had passed since their summons to Barry, yet he not only remained unpunished, but obviously still in favor with the Marine Committee. Tipped off that the committee's cooperation with Barry would make his plan a reality, Hopkinson again wrote his congressional allies on January 19.²⁰ Upon receipt, they worked behind the scenes, currying votes against Barry—just as Barry's supporters were doing on his behalf.

Ten days later, Hopkinson's allies passed a motion “that Captain Barry be not employed on the expedition assigned to his conduct by the Marine Committee, till further orders from Congress.”²¹ The motion was put to a vote. The time for gamesmanship was over; Congress must now decide between the lawyer and the sailor. Every representative's name was called, and each vote was cast and recorded.

The vote was a tie.

As such, the motion “passed in the negative.” One less vote and Barry's next adventure would have taken place without him. While Congress “adjourned to 10 o'clock to Morrow,” the Marine Committee wasted no more daylight.²² They immediately issued orders that Barry “employ the Pinnace and Barges belonging to the Frigates” and “employ such Continental Navy Officers not in Active Service” for his mission. Further, adding insult to injury, the committee directed Hopkinson to provide Barry “with everything necessary for equipping your little fleet. . . . You will give immediate notice to General Washington of such stores as you may Capture which are necessary for the use of the Army.”23 Wishing Barry success, and asking that he “Write us frequently,” the committee sent their own instructions to Hopkinson—not exactly a veiled rebuke of him as much as emphasizing their support of Barry: “We have directed Captain Barry to employ the Pinnace and Barges . . . in annoying the enemies Vessels in their Passage up and down the Delaware. . . . We desire that you would deliver him such War-like Provisions and other necessaries as he may think necessary for equipping and victualling the Said Boats.”²⁴

With a world of scheming and contrivance lifted off his broad shoulders, Barry lost no time in leaving York. For the first time in months, he could focus on his duties and leave the politicians behind.

There was much to do. For Barry's plan to work, the barges would have to elude the British in Philadelphia. South of the city, the Delaware widens; numerous creeks and streams would provide refuge from any pursuing British craft. Most of the traffic on the river would consist of supply transports. The ice, and British lack of knowledge regarding the Delaware's tributaries, would also serve to his advantage. Barry saw the coming action as a chance to attack the enemy with speed and surprise; any resultant captured supplies that could be sent to Valley Forge would be a welcome residual.²⁵ That said, he still faced overwhelming odds: the enemy was sure to respond with superior numbers of barges and men. Add the fact that there were enough loyalists living on the riverbanks who would offer neither succor nor silence, and Barry's mission carried no guarantee of success.

Barry departed York on January 30, visiting Morris in Manheim at John Brown's request, dropping off a letter regarding Barry's brother. Patrick was in Edenton, North Carolina, preparing a privateer for a voyage to France.²⁶ It was the first bit of news Barry had of Patrick in over a year.

From Manheim, Barry went back to Valley Forge for a brief meeting with Washington and to request Washington's intercession with General James Varnum in Burlington, New Jersey. Realizing that the Marine Committee's letter called for “volunteers,” Barry wanted an order giving him use of the same soldiers Washington assigned in the fall to the Pennsylvania Navy, and Washington happily obliged.27

The Marine Committee's orders to Barry were strict instructions as to how to handle every conceivable issue his venture might encounter:

As you will have frequent occasion to land on each Side of the Delaware during your Cruze you will take effectual care to restrain your officers & men from plundering, insulting or in any way treating ill the Inhabitants of the Country. Humanity, good Policy and your reputation demand that they should be treated with kindness—you may want supplies from them and their assistance in moving to a place of safety such effects as you may capture . . . you shall take with you or appoint on Shore some honest, faithful persons who are well acquainted with the Country and will undertake to procure wagons for the speedy removal to a place of safety and take care of such goods as you may Capture. . . . We would have you Sink or otherwise destroy the Hulls of all such Vessels as you may take which cannot be removed to some place of Safety. The Vessels which you take and preserve and the goods which you Capture must be libeled in the Court of Admiralty in the State which they are carried—you will therefore employ some suitable Attorney to libel for the same. . . . The Success of your Cruze depending upon your dispatch, activity, prudence and valour we hope you will exert the utmost of your abilities on this occasion.²⁸

The committee's orders that Barry receive supplies and support from the Navy Board must have been gall and wormwood to Hopkinson. Nonetheless, Barry encountered no resistance from him. Hopkinson's days in his hometown were numbered anyway. Congress already decided “As that part of the Continental Navy late in the Delaware are either lost or rendered useless, there appears no necessity of your continuing in Jersey.” Hopkinson and Wharton were ordered to Baltimore, with further instructions to pick up John Nixon from his militia post along the way.²⁹ Hopkinson's recent mail was not personally very cheerful for him; he also got a note from Washington approving Alexander's mission, but only if it was “in conjunction with the other Gentlemen of the Navy”—that is, under Barry's supervision. The general closed with regrets that he would not be Hopkinson's personal mailman: “Having never found an opportunity of conveying the Letter, which you sometime ago sent to me for Mr. Duché . . . I return it to you again.”30

Once in Bordentown, Barry discovered that his biggest obstacle was not the little attorney but his choice of vessels: only two of the barges were in suitable condition for the venture. The pinnace and the other barge were in need of time-consuming repairs. He ordered the two serviceable barges overhauled for the expedition, with a four-pound cannon mounted on each bow, and swivel guns placed along the gunwales.³¹

The recruitment of a crew began with finding a second-in-command. Barry's first choice, Luke Matthewman, accepted immediately. Upon his arrival in Bordentown following the fighting at Fort Mifflin, Matthewman was made “Commisary for the Seamen of the Late Fleet,” a position with much responsibility but little authority or success in providing food and clothing for his fellow sailors. Midshipman Matthew Clarkson, another Lexington veteran, also decided to face the icy Delaware rather than wait in boredom for infrequent rations at Bordentown. Marine Lieutenant James Coakley was the only other officer who enlisted.³²

Few Continental sailors volunteered, due to the bitterly cold conditions and recent memories of the defeat that put them in Bordentown in the first place. Out of the hundreds in town, only two dozen volunteered. Barry's trip to Burlington to recruit volunteers from Varnum's and Hazelwood's forces was minimally successful; only fifteen of Varnum's “landsmen” signed on.³³ Hazelwood told Barry that six of the Pennsylvania Navy's row-galleys had just embarked on a similar mission. Two reached Cooper's Ferry, across from Petty's Island, but their crews deserted in the dead of night. The other four boats, under command of Captain Joseph Wade, were painstakingly lugged overland. Hazelwood had not heard from them since.³⁴

After a week of preparation the barges were ready. Taking command of one, Barry placed the other under Matthewman and assigned twenty men to each boat. Although the Delaware was frozen at Bordentown in late January (there were still no takers for Major Fleury's booby-trapped shirts), a recent thaw broke the ice into floes. Barry was not about to follow Wade's overland route. Instead, he would head downriver under cover of darkness, risking detection and capture by the British. News of his plan was already inspiring other officers to follow suit. Two Pennsylvania Navy captains applied to the Pennsylvania Council of Safety for permission to do so but, while the council commended Barry's “spirit of enterprise,” they withheld permission until “Capt. Barry's example” proved successful.35

Around the time this letter was sent (the specific date is not known), Barry left Bordentown. Boarding one of the barges at dusk, he gave orders to push off. With oars muffled and oarlocks greased to eliminate squeaking, the sailors propelled the crowded barges as silently as possible. Barry kept them to the Jersey side of the river.

By midnight they reached Philadelphia. From their boats they could make out the illuminated homes just past Dock Street. The music from any boisterous frolic at a loyalist household carried over the water through the thin winter air. They could make out the wards where Barry and some of his men had lived, and the wharves from which they had sailed. They saw the silhouettes of the redcoat guards, their bayonets occasionally reflecting the lamplight along the docks or on the ships where they stood watch. Among the ships they slipped past was the Roebuck, finally docked in Philadelphia after nearly two years of Andrew Snape Hamond's attempts to do so.

One of the sentries on an anchored warship heard something suspicious across the water, and called out. In a strong whisper Barry ordered his men to stop rowing. A musket was fired over the water but found no target. With a nod from their captain, the Americans continued their muffled rowing. Soon Barry and his men were past the captured city.³⁶

As dawn rose, Barry's men, exhausted and numbed by the cold, pulled into one of the Delaware's streams for cover from the spyglasses of British deck-officers. Then, after dusk, they were at it again, passing Chester and Marcus Hook, then rowing across to the Christina River in Delaware. The following morning, Barry made his arrival known to General William Smallwood, the commander of the Continental forces in Wilmington.37 Of his trip downriver, Barry wrote, “I passed Philadelphia in two small boats,” his total recounting of this desperately silent journey.³⁸ Matthewman's report was equally lacking in detail: “Capt. Barry and myself and two barges passed Philadelphia through the ice.”³⁹

Nor were just American barges heading into the icy river. On February 11, Hamond wrote out orders “for the Defense of this City, and the better exerting the King's Service in the River Delaware,” that an armed “Row-Galy” named the Philadelphia be put to use against any rebel opposition they may encounter.⁴⁰ Whether he was tipped off by Tory informants, or simply sniffing at something in the wind, Hamond, as usual, was leaving nothing to chance.

One week later, three hundred Continental soldiers led by General Anthony Wayne arrived in Wilmington. Wayne's orders were to cross the Delaware to the New Jersey side and purchase or requisition cattle from the farms dotting the river's shoreline. Most livestock owners would call Wayne's band a large rustling party. Their mission was that pure, simple, and necessary. The Continentals were also directed to destroy any forage they found before it could be seized by British dragoons for their horses.⁴¹ It was Wayne's first solo action since the Paoli Massacre. Although cleared of any wrongdoing in that disastrous incident, he was anxious to redeem himself. If the theft of beef on the hoof was his first opportunity, then so be it.

Wayne also reported to Smallwood, inquiring about any boats and men available to take his soldiers across the icy river. Smallwood had no boats to speak of, but told Wayne of Barry's arrival in the Christina River. By this time Barry had been joined by Wade and his barges. Smallwood put Barry and Wayne together, the beginning of a lifelong friendship.

On February 19, Barry's “fleet” transported Wayne's soldiers to New Jersey in broad daylight—there being no British craft in view on the river; nor could any Tory spies warn General Howe back in Philadelphia in enough time to prevent the crossing. Wayne's men marched into Salem while Barry's barges and boats passed Finn's Point, making for Salem Creek. The next four days were spent with the “rustlers” trying to carry out their mission. Wayne's soldiers were unfamiliar with both their assignment and the countryside. The Jersey farmers, whether patriot, loyalist, or neutral, were in no way desirous of having their cattle taken outright or paid for in worthless Continental scrip—especially when the British, under Howe's gentlemanly orders, would pay better (and in British pounds) for the same beef. Instead, they hid their cows and steers in nearby swamps or in the dense pine backwoods, out of sight of Wayne's soldiers.42

By the twenty-third, Wayne “had got together upwards of One hundred and fifty Head.” Soon he had nearly five hundred, with enough commandeered wagons loaded with hay to feed them.⁴³ The problem was getting his herd to Valley Forge. By now the British were aware of Wayne's activities, and he received word that a large British force was marching north of Philadelphia to cross the Delaware at Burlington and capture or kill any American soldier, sailor, or steer.⁴⁴ Rather than march north with the herd, Wayne and Barry attempted to transfer the cattle using the barges, but they proved unsuitable for the reluctant, four-legged recruits, who showed no enthusiasm for a boat ride.⁴⁵

During a council of war with their officers to determine a course of action, Wayne and Barry decided to send the cattle and hay wagons north along the road that led from Salem to Mount Holly—a distance of approximately fifty miles—with Wayne's men keeping between the road and the river to repel any British or loyalist forces. Barry and his men would act as decoy. Taking his forty sailors and soldiers, he would send his boats upriver to Mantua Creek just above Billingsport.⁴⁶ From there they would proceed southward “and Burn all the Hay along the Shore from Billingsport to this place [Salem] taking any acct. of the Persons Names to whom it belongs.” While such a measure deprived the British of the forage, Wayne, citing Washington's desire “that Private Property not be Sacrificed to Public Good,” directed Barry to “transmit to headquarters the Names . . . with the Quantity of forage belonging to each” for “Recompence at a future day.”⁴⁷

Barry's ruse would be tedious, unpopular, and dangerous. It was one thing to “request” hay for the Continentals and pay for it with near-worthless paper money. It was another to burn the hay and, in doing so, not only raise hackles with fellow countrymen but also incite the enemy to chase after him, while Wayne endeavored to get his cattle above Mount Holly, cross the Delaware, and swing west of Philadelphia back down to Valley Forge. Reinforced by twenty more men from Wayne's force, Barry promised to land them “on the Pennsy[lvania] Shore” as soon as he “Effected the Business on which he is ordered.”48

At dusk on the twenty-third, Barry's flotilla left Salem Creek and headed up the Delaware. Rowing without rest throughout the long, cold night, they reached Mantua Creek in the early morning hours—a distance of thirty-five miles.⁴⁹ There was no time for as much as a catnap. All that morning, under clear skies and carrying their hastily made torches, Barry and his men entered every creek and stream as they moved southward along the Jersey shore.⁵⁰ Complying with his orders, Barry took down the names of each farmer—all bitterly protesting their loss regardless of their politics. Barry estimated each and every haystack in quantity and worth, from “John Kelley's 100 tons at Rackoon Creek” to lesser totals from the smaller farms stretching from the riverbank to the woods. Then they were put to the torch.⁵¹

One plume of smoke followed another, until it looked to the British in Philadelphia as if all South Jersey was ablaze. That afternoon, as he made his way to Haddonfield, Wayne saw the smoke signals southward as evidence that Barry and his men were keeping to the plan. Then, swinging his spyglass westward toward Philadelphia, Wayne recognized that Barry's pillars of fire were having the desired effect on the British. The smoke misled the enemy into thinking Wayne was unaware of their maneuver; now they called a halt to their crossing at Burlington. With “Thick hazey w[eathe]r” coming across the river, a fuming Hamond, watching from the Roebuck's quarterdeck, ordered “out the Pembroke (Tender) & half Galley's.”⁵² When Barry finally called it a day below Carney's Point across from Wilmington, his detachment had come within ten miles of Salem, their entire route south lit by fire.⁵³ It took hours for the British to finish their preparations for pursuit. When “the Pembroke with the two Galleys” and “a Great No. of Flatt Boats” departed the Roebuck, it was already 11 P.M.54 Back in New Jersey, Barry set up watches, allowing his dog-tired men to get some sleep at their oars in the frosty air.

“Dark, cloudy weather” greeted Hamond the next morning as he scanned the river to see how much progress his enemy had made overnight. Barry's firebrands were already at work, heading southward past Finn's Point and back up Salem Creek. From the opposite shore, Barry peered through his spyglass and saw at least a score of flatboats heading his way, each filled with redcoats.⁵⁵ With his expert knowledge of the Delaware's idiosyncrasies and current, Barry judged that he had enough time to continue with his fiery harvest.⁵⁶

By dusk, his sooty and sweat-stained men were exhausted. After some furious rowing they reached Alloway Creek, five miles below Salem, just as the British boats reached Finn's Point.⁵⁷ Realizing that remaining in New Jersey now meant capture, Barry looked across the river to his planned place of refuge, Reedy Island, roughly two-thirds the distance to the Delaware shore. Prompt orders were issued and obeyed. In complete darkness, Barry took his barges back into the river.

At 11 P.M., the commander of one of the British galleys, the Cornwallis, “Saw 6 boats” and “weighed and Gave Chace.”⁵⁸ Seeing one within range he ordered the galley's huge 24-pounder to fire. Twice the gun roared and the immense cannonballs flew past the barges, soaking the Americans with freezing water. Once again, luck was with Barry, this time in the form of the sudden appearance of two mysterious ships. The Cornwallis tailed them until they were identified as British, giving the Americans time to row out of danger. Before dawn the barges passed Reedy Island, reaching the Delaware fishing village called Port Penn. The villagers put Barry and his men up in their cottages. For the first time in over two weeks each sailor slept under a roof.⁵⁹

The following morning, February 26, Barry wrote to Washington:

Sir,

According to the Orders of General Wayne, I have Destroyed the forage From Mantua Creek to this Place the Quantity Destroyd is about four Hundred Tons and Should have Proceeded farther had not a Number of the Enemies' Boats appeared in sight and Lining the Jerzee Shore Deprived us the Opportunity of Proceeding Further . . . have thought Proper to Detain four of Your Men to assist in getting the Boats away as some of my Men are Rendered Incapable of Proceeding Thro Fatigue. But shall again Remit by the First Order of Your Excellency having no further Occasion for the Remaining Part of the Detachment under my Command here thought proper to Discharge them.⁶⁰

Giving the letter to their senior officer, Barry sent the men detached from Wayne's forces back to Valley Forge.61 It would be weeks before Barry learned how successful his feint was. On the same morning that Barry began his fiery march, 2,000 redcoats crossed the Delaware, but at Cooper's Ferry, not Burlington. The southward shift in plans allowed Wayne's cattle drive to get past Haddonfield, up to Mount Holly, and cross the Delaware undetected. Wayne's success inspired other “roundups” that would feed Washington's men until springtime.⁶² The redcoats, finding no sign of the rebel arsonists, returned to Philadelphia on February 28; it took some degree of courage to inform Hamond that their mission had failed.⁶³ Subsequent British foraging parties would reap nothing but ashes.

His haystack burning days over, Barry returned to the original purpose of his mission, posting guards daily on Reedy Island to keep a weather eye out for enemy sail. None appeared. The Delaware returned to its wintry icebound state. No ship was seen for a week. Finally, the temperatures warmed enough to break up the ice. It was “thick, foggy Weather” on Saturday, March 7, 1778, when a lookout spotted three sails to the southward, off Bombay Hook.⁶⁴ Two transports were heading upriver, navigating their way through the ice floes.⁶⁵ An armed schooner was moving along to catch up to them. On Barry's orders, the bos'n's whistle pierced the wintry stillness—the signal for his men bivouacked in the fishing village's cottages to meet him at the boats.⁶⁶

As soon as the sailors gathered, Barry addressed them. After a week of inactivity, here was a chance to strike at the enemy. Knowing that the transports would be lightly armed, he gave quick, direct orders. Matthewman would command three of the barges, while Barry led the other four. The crews hastened pell-mell to their oars. It was obvious that the British did not suspect an attack, having enjoyed sole possession of the river for nearly four months.

The element of surprise was on Barry's side as his barges burst past their island cover, rowing furiously out to midriver to intercept the transports. His hunch was correct; they were lightly armed, each with a fourteen-man crew. Matthewman's barges closed in on the nearest vessel, the Mermaid, armed with two swivels. Barry's four barges headed straight toward the second ship, the Kitty, his men rowing furiously in unison. As they neared their quarry, they saw that she was the better armed of the two, mounting six 4-pounders.67

Matthewman gave orders to board the Mermaid. The ten-man crews of his barges scrambled over the gunwales, weapons brandished, overcoming the enemy so fast that not a shot was fired. The Mermaid's commander immediately surrendered. Matthewman found his prize loaded with much-needed forage for the horses of the British dragoons.⁶⁸

Barry's sailors, on the other hand, watched as the Kitty, having more time to react to the swift attack, ran two 4-pounders out of her forward gunports. Her commander, J. Mallet, gave the order to fire and the Kitty's guns went off, but the inexperienced gunners hit nothing but water. Barry ordered his rowers to “trail oars,” slowing their boats while keeping them straight. Thus steadied, the Americans fired their 4-pounders and hit their mark, smashing into the Kitty. Barry ordered his crews to resume rowing, and as the Americans continued their speedy advance, Mallet struck his colors. Barry, cutlass in hand, led his men as they clambered over the bulwark to find they, too, had captured a British ship loaded with forage.⁶⁹ The entire attack took about half an hour.⁷⁰

But there was not one second to rest. The British schooner was coming ever closer to the transports and barges that were now stopped dead in the water. Barry had to make a snap decision—cut and run with the first two British captures in the river in months, or risk making an assault with his barges and captured transports on the surely better-armed schooner. “Curage alone,” as Barry would later write (with his distinctive spelling) would not suffice; a “Grate dale of Art” would also be required to take the schooner.71 The decision was easy: attack.

Barry's “Grate dale of Art” consisted of a hurried improvisation. Sending the British crew below and battening down the hatch over them, he ordered “Wear ship!” The Kitty turned through the wind. Seizing Mallet's trumpethorn, Barry bellowed orders to Matthewman for his barges to stay to the Kitty's starboard, while he sent his barges to Kitty's port. Once the Kitty turned, the makeshift squadron headed right at the schooner, with all guns trained on her.⁷²

Standing by his ship's wheel, the schooner's commander assessed his situation. Several barges and one captured transport gave him plenty of targets to choose from—perhaps too many. The barges, under Barry's orders, kept enough space between themselves to be difficult to hit, while coming closer to the schooner.⁷³ Barry's lust for the next capture, evident in his rousing commands and the fire in his eyes, was contagious; his men were as eager for battle as he was.

To their surprise, no gunfire came from the schooner. Instead, she struck her colors. Barry immediately ordered Matthewman, whose barges were closest to the ship, to hoist a flag of truce and propose honorable terms. The British commander, a lieutenant of engineers named Daniel Moore, accepted Matthewman's offer and surrendered.⁷⁴

The ship was the schooner Alert, assigned to the Engineering Department of the British Army.⁷⁵ Carrying “eight Double fortified four-pounders & twelve four Pound howitzers,” and with a crew of thirty-three plus a company of artifice-mechanics aboard, Moore had enough gunfire and hands to have made a fight of it.⁷⁶ As soon as he boarded the Alert, Matthewman found the reason for Moore's quick surrender—three officers' wives were passengers. Moore had opted for their safety rather than risk their lives. Matthewman also recognized the ship's pilot. He was from Fisher's company, either pressed into service or turned loyalist. Hastily drawn up “Articles of Surrender of the British Army Schooner Alert” guaranteed that “Every Lady in the Ship is to have their Baggage & belongings to their own Private-Property[.] The Lady's are to be Sent to Philadelphia By the first Conveyance[,] The Men to Remain Prisoners of War 'till Exchange Dilworth the Pilot to Be held as a Prisoner of War.” When Barry came aboard he added his signature, thereby agreeing “to keep the above Articles sacred.”77

Far to the south, the Americans could see more British sail, with at least two men-of-war among them. Once again, there was no time to waste. Barry ordered all craft back to Port Penn. They docked there at nightfall.⁷⁸

Barry's stirring victory in broad daylight did not give him any excess of confidence. He knew full well that the British would come to reclaim their ships, and that their landing parties and long guns could easily turn his victory into defeat. The next day, March 8, Barry sent a courier to Smallwood requesting reinforcements, but only a few local militiamen came, accompanied by Delaware Congressman Nicholas Van Dyke. He and Barry conferred regarding the three ladies (who must have been terrified at being held captive by the American brigands) and the fate of the British prisoners. It was decided that the ships would be unloaded at Port Penn, and that Moore and another officer would be paroled to conduct the ladies to Philadelphia.⁷⁹

Barry also wrote a letter to the Marine Committee, relaying his good news and urging them to purchase the Alert. In his eyes she was another Lexington: small, fast, and capable of inflicting substantial consternation and damage to the enemy. The missive was given to a courier, who would reach York on March 11.⁸⁰

The unloading of cargo from the three captured ships continued into Sunday afternoon, when a sailor came up the Alert's hatchway with news that her hold was full of engineering tools and a huge compilation of correspondence, mostly belonging to British Chief Engineer Montresor and Hessian General Knyphausen. While ransacking the galley, other sailors came across a well-stocked pantry, including a huge cheese “together with a Jar of Pickled Oysters.”⁸¹ Barry commandeered the cheese and oysters, but not for himself. He earmarked them for delivery to Washington.

Barry ordered the Kitty's 4-pounders transferred to the docks, leaving the Alert's guns on board; for Barry's plan to work, his best prize would need her guns. When all that could be done to defend Port Penn and his three prizes was done, Barry sent a lookout aloft to inform him of the northward progress of the British squadron heading toward the island.82 Van Dyke and a few of the militiamen prepared to escort the British prisoners to Wilmington. After agreeing to act as Barry's agent regarding the captured ships, Van Dyke set off with his caravan of militia, prisoners, engineering tools, and military correspondence.⁸³ Every possible variable for the coming engagement, including the defense of the ships using the small 4-pounders, the shallow water between Port Penn and Reedy Island, and the tide tables, were factored into Barry's plan of defense—and escape.

His opponent in the coming fight was none other than Captain Sir James Wallace, the very same commander who had terrorized the Rhode Island coast at the onset of the war. Wallace now commanded the ship-of-the-line Experiment, fifty guns, a worthy promotion for so successful a warrior. In January the Experiment had entered the Delaware Bay, which Wallace found as ripe for prize taking as the waters off Rhode Island. His journal was replete with entries of captured American prizes, sent to New York for libel and condemnation.⁸⁴

Barry's three captures were actually part of a convoy Wallace was escorting from Rhode Island that included a merchantman loaded with troops from Ireland, three smaller warships, and eight transports carrying forage. The commanders of Barry's prizes had ignored Wallace's orders “to remain with the squadron—they had passed the Experiment at Cape Henlopen without taking notice of him.”⁸⁵ They then sailed ahead of the convoy and right into Barry's waiting arms.

Now Wallace was coming for them. At 7 A.M. on March 9, with “Light Breezes and Hazy” conditions, he ordered Experiment's anchor weighed, and made for Reedy Island and Port Penn. Wallace did not come alone. He brought a small squadron: the frigate Brune, twenty guns, and the sloops-of-war Dispatch and York. The coming fight did not stop him from his other duties; he found time to “Punish John Julim for Mutiny” while his ship began “working up the River Delaware.” As they tacked their way northward, avoiding the few remaining ice floes, the skies darkened ominously.86

The Experiment's draft was much too large to get through the shallows at Port Penn. Wallace ordered the rest of squadron to wait for the tide to change through the morning hours. Another British sloop, the George, came sailing by. Sizing up the lay of Reedy Island while visualizing what his opponent's coming moves would be, Wallace had a boat lowered, and “Sent [his] Lieut. On bd. the George” with orders that her captain cross the northern passage above the island. By 2:00 P.M., with their guns loaded and run out, Wallace's three smaller ships “Stood into the East End of the Island.” By now the winds were howling and a whipping snowstorm began.⁸⁷

Barry was already alerted to the arrival of enemy ships. While his forces awaited his orders, he remained inside the Alert's cabin, penning another letter to Washington:

‘Tis with the Greatest Satisfaction Imaginable I inform you of Capturing two Ships & a Schooner of the Enemy. . . . [There] are a number of Engineering tools . . . by the Bearer Mr. John Chelten have Sent You a Cheese together with a Jar of Pickled Oysters which Crave Your Acceptance.⁸⁸

Suddenly his composition was interrupted by cannon fire. Wallace “Saw a Schooner and Ship within Reedy Island,” and, with the tide coming in, gave orders to begin the attack. The Dispatch was the first British vessel to enter the shallow passage. Once she was in range, the American gun crews on the docks let loose with their 4-pounders.⁸⁹ One of Barry's officers burst into his cabin to tell him the news. The battle was joined.

Barry's main concern was the Alert, “a most Excellent Vessel for our purpose” that he was “Determined to hold . . . at all events.” And while his plan did not include letting Port Penn be destroyed by British guns, he had no qualms in sacrificing the transports. With enough hay remaining aboard both vessels to start a quick and devastating fire, Barry ordered the officer to torch the Kitty, and resumed writing Washington that “a fleet . . . appearing in Sight Obliged me to Burn One of the Ships & [I] am afraid the Other will share the same fate after Discharging her.”90 As the British gunfire increased, Barry calmly sealed his letter. Then he gave it, the cheese, and the pickled oysters to John Chelten, with orders to head for Valley Forge.

Now Barry turned his full attention to escape. As he came outside he saw that the nor'easter was peaking, its winds blowing snow and sleet on the meagerly clad Americans. The gun crews on the docks blew on their cramping fingers to warm them for a second or two. In this kind of storm cold became bitter; wind became raw.

Once on deck, Barry gave orders to get the Alert and the barges underway. In minutes the schooner headed north, under cover of the smoke from the burning transports. He had always foiled British captains before, but now he was up against a wily commander with years of experience in dealing with other clever American adversaries. With the George crossing above Reedy Island to head off the Alert, Wallace now employed his other nautical chess pieces. The Brune, Dispatch, and York continued to pour fire at the battery on the Port Penn docks, while abandoning plans of landing troops to attack. Instead they pursued the departing Alert.⁹¹ Seeing that “The Schooner made Sail out,” Wallace “fired several Guns at her over the Island.”⁹² The Experiment, a two-decker and officially a “fifth rate” ship-of-the-line, carried 18-pounders among her arsenal. These long guns easily had enough range to fire over Reedy Island.⁹³

Barry's only chance at success lay in keeping ahead of his pursuers and getting past Reedy Island. Then he could head back into the Christina River near Hamburg.⁹⁴ The captains of the Brune and Dispatch, with orders to “stand in between Port Penn and Reedy Island,” watched as Barry's “Schooner and several Gun Boats went out [the] Opposite End of [the] Passage.” The Americans left behind on the docks “fir'd several Shots at us from a Battery, which we return'd with several Broadsides as we Past,” one commander noted. Meanwhile, the rest of Barry's fleet made a hasty getaway, manning the barges and rowing east: “Some Gun boats & a galley got on the Jersey shore,” Wallace later recalled. While the American “Gun Boats [barges] row'd within the Shoals” and got away, the Brune and Dispatch joined the chase of the Alert.⁹⁵

Actually, Wallace allowed the barges to escape. The Experiment's captain was not used to losing so much as a marlin-spike, and now two of his transports were burning out of control before his eyes, with the perpetrator escaping on another vessel assigned to his guardianship. If his correspondence is any reflection of his personality, Wallace was cold and cunning, and his anger equally icy. The Experiment now joined the pursuit of the schooner, coming around the east end of Reedy Island. Let the barges go: more than anything else, Wallace wanted to retake the Alert, and personally capture this rebel upstart.

Barry did what he could to increase the distance between the Alert and her pursuers. The small schooner was a hard target to hit, but not for lack of British effort. Cannon fire dogged her escape. The Alert's crew heard the enemy's long guns fire, followed by the screaming whistle of the approaching cannonballs and the heavy splash as they hit the water around them, or the split-second rip of canvas overhead as the flying iron made perfectly round holes through the sails.96 The Alert, like a fox brought to bay by British hounds, began to lose the race.

A handful of Americans lost their nerve. They “le[a]ped into the long boat and were preparing to desert.” Barry left his post by the schooner's wheel. In several long strides he reached the bulwark and stopped them in mid-act, with his “presence of mind and singular address.”⁹⁷ Whether they were reassured or cowed by his physical presence, the men returned to their duties.

It had been two hours since the opening cannonade. The Alert passed Reedy Island, but British guns—especially the Experiment's bow-chasers– began smashing into the Alert's stern.⁹⁸ The Experiment and George, “with all the sail they could [carry]” were drawing ever closer, and would soon be in range to fire broadsides—something that the Alert and her “double fortified 4-pounders” could not possibly withstand.⁹⁹

Having “maintained an obstinate fight,” Barry saw that if escape with the Alert was no longer an option, escape without the schooner was. After ordering the schooner's guns overboard, Barry roared, “Hard a port!” From the Experiment's quarterdeck, Wallace watched “the schooner Run aGround.” As water rushed into the Alert, Barry ordered all of his crew to man the schooner's boat. Then they rowed to shore, making their escape.100

“The Schooner was onshore and taken,” reported Captain James Ferguson of the Brune, but Barry and his crew got clean away.¹⁰¹ Not one American sailor perished; in fact, not a man from Barry's original barges was killed throughout these missions.¹⁰² That night, longboats from the Experiment and George reclaimed the Alert “in 3-1/2 fathoms Found the Schooner full of Water.” At Port Penn, one British officer reported that the Kitty “was Burnt,” and “the Mermaid so effectively on Fire that it was out of the powers . . . to extinguish it.” With no damage other than “some Shrouds and running Rigging cut by the Shot from their Battery,” Wallace's squadron “joined the convoy that Night and Anchored below New Castle.”¹⁰³

If Wallace won an empty victory, Barry won a moral one, and news of it soon spread from Philadelphia to Valley Forge, York, and beyond. Washington's young aide, Colonel John Laurens, wrote “of Capt Barry's success with two or three armed boats on the Delaware . . . it will give me great pleasure to dwell upon the praises due to Capt Barry. Among other things taken on board...are a number of German letters and papers . . . from whence we hope to gain some useful intelligence. Gen'l Knyphausen's order of the Lion d'or is likewise taken, but will be sent unto him.”¹⁰⁴ The citation was soon delivered to Knyphausen's unbuttered hand.

The Pennsylvania Gazette published a lengthy “Extract from a Gentleman Near Head Quarters” how “Captain Barry has distinguished himself exceedingly on the river.” Describing the long odds taken and the bravery of Barry and his men, the “Extract” called it as “gallant an action as any during the war, and does great honor to the brave officer and his associates who planned and executed it.”¹⁰⁵

The Marine Committee wrote Barry on March 11, congratulating him “on the successful commencement of your expedition and hope it will be attended with Similar advantages to the Public and Glory to the gallant Commander, brave officers & men concerned in it.” Having not yet heard of the Alert's recapture, they also gave Barry orders to purchase her and rechristen her the Wasp.¹⁰⁶ But the finest praise came from Washington himself:

Sir—I have received your favor of the 9th inst. I congratulate you on the Success which has crowned your Gallantry and Address in the late Attack upon the Enemie's Ships—although circumstances have prevented you from reaping the full benefit of your Conquest, yet there is ample consolation in the degree of Glory, which you have acquired—You will be pleased to accept my thanks for the good things which you were so polite as to send me, with my wishes that your suitable recompense may always attend your Bravery.107

Barry's success with the barges gave some in Congress hope for more of the same. “I expect every day to hear of their further Success,” wrote Congressman William Ellery, a staunch naval advocate, adding that “These boats will annoy and injure the enemy more, in my opinion, than both the Seventy-Fours would if they were built, equipped and manned, at least upon the Delaware.”¹⁰⁸

Even though Barry had escaped back to Wilmington, his insurgency on the Delaware was short-lived. From the Roebuck's cabin, Hamond ordered other British captains to keep “between Bombay Hook and Reedy Island and use your best endeavors to take or destroy any of the Rebel Armed Boats you may meet with.”¹⁰⁹ The river was soon clogged with enemy vessels, from the frigate Pearl to the row-galley Cornwallis, patrolling the length and breadth of the Delaware (the British soon captured Wade and his men in Red Lion Creek, within eyesight of Reedy Island). Hamond was determined not to let as much as one Yankee sailor stir a finger on the river. “For the past two Days the Enemies Fleet have been passing by here, to Amount of 150 Sail,” Smallwood wrote to Washington on St. Patrick's Day.¹¹⁰ Barry was safe, but once again high and dry.

Back on the mainland, Barry replied to Washington's letter, enclosing “an Invoice of the Goods taken” from his prizes, regretfully notifying Washington that Montresor's valuable “Intrenching Tools . . . are Stolen by the Inhabitants together with about one-fourth Part of the Cargo taken out of the Vessels.” All of Montresor's tools, along with some of his cargo, had “disappeared”—taken by the very militia charged with their delivery and safekeeping. Barry further informed Washington of the increased British traffic on the river, some “forty Sail of Vessels up Salem Creek & about thirty more on the Delaware.” Now it was the redcoats' turn to raid for forage and cattle, and with “about fifteen hundred Men Landed” on both sides of the Delaware, both Barry and Smallwood saw the futility in any further actions against such overwhelming numbers.111

Having heard of the Alert's recapture, the Marine Committee commiserated with Barry over his loss, regretting that “the Militia instead of offering you Assistance had pilfered so much of the goods.” After wishing him success in future attacks, they came to the unpleasant subject of money: one-half of what remained, of course, went to Congress, as per their Resolution of October 30, 1776. They noted that, had Barry managed to keep the Alert, “She would have been solely the property of the Captors.” As for any reward from Congress for burning the Kitty and Mermaid, alas: such bounty “was confined exactly to the fire Ships fitted at Philadelphia last fall.” After telling Barry what he was not entitled to, they did send him an $800 advance, with the understanding that he would be accountable for it later.¹¹²

He attended the sale of his remaining captured goods on April 6, writing Washington that one “Major [Ichabod] Burnet purchased all the Knives and forks to be equally divided between Your Excellency and General Green[e].” Burnett purchased everything from “6 loafs of Sugar” (about 42 pounds) to “1 doz[e]n White Kid Gloves” and “12 lbs. best hair Powder.” The sale raised $356; after Congress took its 50 percent, Barry and his men split a grand total of $178.¹¹³

Springlike weather arrived on the Delaware in April. Barry wrote again to his commander-in-chief, expressing his wish to “have one more sweep at” the British “before we give up.” He also reported that the soldiers loaned to him by General Varnum wanted new clothes “and the[y] Grumble Very much About it . . . I fear thare Is some of them that will not stay unless the[y] can be suplyed with them.” Assuring the general that Varnum's men will be “sent to join Thare Respectave Regiments,” and that “we can be of use for some little time yet,” Barry sent the letter along with the goods purchased for Washington and Greene. Washington's reply requested that Varnum's men be returned by May 1, quickly enough in the general's view that “I cannot think it necessary or right that they should receive their Clothes until they join their Corps.”114 Having neither the inclination nor funds to purchase slops for the army, Barry instantly relieved them of their duties. Smallwood also departed for Valley Forge.

Barry, too, closed up his Delaware operation.¹¹⁵ Luke Matthewman headed to Maryland to serve with Count D'Estaing and the newly arrived French Navy.¹¹⁶ Barry returned to White Hill, arriving in a driving rainstorm on May 7.¹¹⁷ Bordentown and White Hill were all but abandoned by American personnel. All that remained from Barry's regrettable exile there were the hulls of the Effingham and Washington, half exposed during low tide.¹¹⁸ By now he had learned of the French treaty with the United States, brilliantly engineered by Franklin. In Philadelphia General Clinton, who had replaced Howe as commander of British forces, was concerned over what was surely heading his way—a French fleet and army at the very least, to fight beside Washington's Continentals.

Upon his arrival in White Hill, Barry called on Mary Peale Read, who had not yet departed to join her husband, Thomas, in Baltimore. Barry graciously accepted her offer that he stay the night. Unknown to Barry, before evacuating Philadelphia, Clinton left one last calling card for the Americans to remember him by. In concert with Admiral Howe, Clinton sent a detachment of British light infantry under Major Maitland of the Marines on an overnight trip upriver to Bordentown and White Hill to destroy any remaining boats, barges, and supplies that might be used to harrass British forces during their move north to New York. They left on “flat boats,” accompanied by British row-galleys, one brig, and a schooner. The combined force was close to 800 in number.¹¹⁹

On the morning of May 8, about fifty American “light horse and their like number of militia men” made a stand of resistance against the approaching redcoats but “were instantly dispersed.” As they entered White Hill, the British learned that one rebel sea captain remained in town. Informants gave them Mrs. Read's address.¹²⁰

A manuscript handed down through the Read family for generations related what occurred next. After a servant spotted British troops marching toward the house, Mrs. Read immediately knocked on the door of the guest room. Barry greeted his hostess, “holding a razor in his hand, his face lathered over preparing for his morning shave.” She quickly told him of the approaching soldiers and begged him to leave as quickly as possible. Then,

With great tranquility he cleared his face and put his razor away. She urged instant flight, “If you don't go they will take you Prisoner!” He laughingly replied: “They won't catch me today,” calmly went downstairs, mounted his horse, which was in readiness, and rode off rapidly, concealed by the outbuildings and dwelling from the British soldiers, who presently arrived, surrounded the house and demanded him.

Coming to the door, Mrs. Read now played the coquette:

Mrs. Read said, “He is not here,” but went to deliver up all keys that the search might begin, and thus delay them. After their fruitless efforts to find Capt Barry, she invited the officer to a good breakfast and sent out rum to his men. She was very graciously entertaining, so the meal was prolonged . . . the soldiers being fatigued from their night march made no further effort to pursue one already beyond their reach.121

Barry escaped the British but little else did. Within minutes they were in possession of White Hill, Bordentown, and Bristol. All American naval stores were burned. Any cannons found were spiked. In Bordentown, thousands of tent poles and pegs were discovered and used as kindling to burn down several patriot homes, Joseph Borden's among them (Hopkinson's home was spared; according to one story, it was used for a dinner party by the raiding officers).¹²² By this time, the half-sunk Effingham and Washington were discovered, along with the Lyon, the Mercury packet, and forty others. They were “set on fire and consumed” in a fire that lasted two days.¹²³ Washington had ordered the frigates destroyed months earlier. Barry wouldn't, Hopkinson couldn't; the British could, and did.

Over the next two days, British fire parties burned no less than fifty-four American vessels, from the privateer Sturdy Beggar to the smallest row-galley. On hearing the news, Washington sent troops to drive the enemy away, “but they had compleated the Business by the time [we] reached the cross Roads,” Washington wrote, getting one last lick in at the Navy Board: “Had the Commissioners of the Navy . . . scuttled and sunk the Frigates, it would have taken so much time and labour to have weighed them, that our force from all quarters could have been up to have prevented them.”124

About his escape, and the final blow to his first frigate, Barry merely reported that the British “sent a party of men up and burnt the [Effingham] and the frigate Washington.”¹²⁵ After a long day's ride he was back in Reading, reunited with Sarah. When he had left her, his career was in jeopardy and his reputation in question. He returned with his hero's mantle well-earned and intact.

In mid-June 1778, as the British army marched north, the British navy stood en masse down the Delaware, escorting three hundred merchant ships carrying 3,000 loyalist refugees. William Austin was among them.¹²⁶ The Experiment had already sailed, heading up the New England coast. Barry's successful escape was Wallace's first taste of defeat in the war. True, Barry had broken off the engagement, but not before burning two ships under Wallace's protection and nearly scuttling another. Even Wallace would have to agree that Barry had won this encounter.

There would be another.