_Crossing the Delaware_
The men, divided into small squads, marched down to the boats,--large
unwieldy scows, which had been hauled up against the shore,--and each
boat was speedily filled to its utmost capacity. The most experienced
seized the oars; three or four Marblehead fishermen armed with long
poles took their stations forward and aft along the upper side of the
boat, with one to steer and one to command; and then, seizing a
favorable opportunity, the boat was pushed off from the shore, and
threading its way in and out between the enormous ice-cakes grinding
down upon her, the difficult and dangerous passage began. Should the
heavily laden boat be overturned, very few of its occupants would be
able to reach the shore. Once on the other side, the fishermen took
the boat back, and the weary process was gone over again. Fortunately
it was yet bright moonlight, though ominous clouds were banking up in
the northeast, and everything could be clearly seen; each boat was
perfectly visible all the way across to the eager watchers on the
shore, and a sigh of relief went up after each fortunate passage. In
this labor Seymour and Bentley, and in a less degree Philip Wilton,
aided Colonel Glover's men; Seymour having the helm of one boat
continuously, Bentley that of another.
About half-past nine it was reported to General Washington that all of
the first division had crossed, and the boat was now ready for him
according to his orders. The largest and best boat had been selected
for the commander-in-chief, one sufficiently capacious to receive his
horses and those of his staff who accompanied him. Seymour was to
steer the boat; Bentley stood in the bow; Colonel Glover stationed
himself amidships, with three or four of his trustiest men, to
superintend the crossing, and all the oars were manned by the hardy
fishermen instead of the soldiers. The general dismounted and walked
toward the boat, leading his horse. Just as he was about to enter, an
officer on a panting steed rode up rapidly, and saluted.
"General Washington?"
"Yes, sir."
"A letter, sir!"
"What a time is this to hand me letters!"
"Your excellency, I have been charged to do so by General Gates."
"By General Gates! Where is he?"
"I left him this morning in Philadelphia, sir."
"What was he doing there?"
"I understood him that he was on his way to Congress."
"On his way to Congress!" said the general earnestly, with much
surprise and disgust in his tone. And then, after a pause, he broke
the seal and read the letter, frowning; after which he crumpled the
paper up in his hand, and then turned again to the officer. "How did
you find us, sir?"
"I followed the bloody footprints of the men on the snow, sir."
"Poor fellows! Did you learn anything of General Ewing or General
Cadwalader?"
"No, sir."
"And General Putnam?"
"He bade me say that there were symptoms of an insurrection in the
city, and he felt obliged to stay there. He has detached six hundred
of the Pennsylvania militia, however, under Colonel Griffin, to advance
toward Bordentown."
"'T is well, sir. Do you remain to participate in our attack?"
"Yes, sir, I belong to General St. Clair's brigade."
"You will find it over there; it has not yet crossed. Now, gentlemen,
let us get aboard."
The general stepped forward in the boat, where Bentley, an enormous
pole in his hands, was stationed, and the remainder of the party soon
embarked. The order was given to shove off. The usual difficulties
and the usual fortune attended the passage of the boat with its
precious freight, until it neared the east bank, when one of the
largest cakes that had passed swiftly floated down upon it.
"Pull, men, pull hard!" cried Colonel Glover, as he saw its huge bulk
alongside. "Head the boat up the stream, Mr. Seymour. Forward,
there--be ready to push off with your poles." As the result of these
prompt manoeuvres, the oncoming mass of ice, which was too large to be
avoided, instead of crashing into them amidships and sinking the boat,
struck them a quartering blow on the bow, and commenced to grind along
the sides of the boat, which heeled so far over that the water began to
trickle in through the oar-locks on the other side.
"Steady, men," said Glover, calmly. "Sit still, for your lives."
Bentley had thrown his pole over on the ice-cake promptly, and was now
bearing down upon it with all the strength of his powerful arms. But
the task was beyond him; the ice and the boat clung together, and the
ice was reinforced by several other cakes which its checked motion
permitted to close with it. The vast mass crashed against the side of
the boat; the oar of the first rower was broken short off at the
oar-lock; if the others went the situation of the helpless boat would
be, indeed, hopeless. The general himself came to the rescue.
Promptly divining the situation, he stepped forward to Bentley's side,
and threw his own immense strength upon the pole. Great beads of sweat
stood out on Bentley's bronzed forehead as he renewed his efforts; the
stout hickory sapling bent and crackled beneath the pressure of the two
men, but held on, and the boat slowly but steadily began to swing clear
of the ice. These two Homeric men held it off by sheer strength, until
the boat was in freewater, and the men, who had sat like statues in
their places, could once more use their oars. The general stepped back
into his place, cool and calm as usual, and entirely unruffled by his
great exertions. Bentley wiped the sweat from his face, and turned and
looked back at him in admiration.
"Friend Bentley," he said quietly, "you are a man of mighty thews and
sinews. Had it not been for your powerful arms, I fear we would have
had a ducking--or worse."
"Lord love you, your honor," said the astonished tailor, "I 've met my
match! It was your arm that saved us. I was almost done for. I never
saw such strength as that, though when I was younger I would have done
better. What a man you would be for reefing topsails in a gale o'
wind, your honor, sir!" he continued, thrusting his pole vigorously
into a small and impertinent cake of ice in the way. The general was
proud of his great strength, and not ill pleased at the genuine and
hearty admiration of this genuine and hearty man.
A few moments later they stepped ashore, and a mighty cheer went up
from the men who had crowded upon the banks, at the safety of their
beloved general. Greene met him at the landing, and the two men
clasped hands. The general immediately mounted his powerful white
horse, and stationed himself on a little hillock to watch the landing
of the rest of the men, engaging General Greene in a low conversation
the while.
"Do you know, Greene, that Gates has refused my entreaty to stop one
day at Bristol, and take command of Reed's and Cadwalader's troops and
help us in the attack! I did not positively order him to do so; only
requested him to delay his journey by a day or two. I can't understand
his action. A letter was handed me just before we crossed by
Wilkinson, telling me that he had gone on to Congress."
"To Congress! What wants he there? Oh, general, it seems as if you
had to fight two campaigns,--one against the enemy, and the other
against secret, nay open, attempts to minimize your authority and check
your plans."
"It seems so, Greene; but with a just cause to sustain, and the
blessing of God to help our efforts, we cannot ultimately fail, though,
indeed, it may be better that I give place to another man, more able to
save the country," went on the general, solemnly.
"Forbid it, Heaven!" cried Greene, passionately. "We, at least, in the
army, know to whom has been committed this work; ay, and who has done
it, and will do it, too! We will stand by you to the last. Could you
not feel in the cheers of those frozen men, when you landed, the love
they bear you?"
"Yes, I know that you are with me, and they too. 'T is that alone that
gives me heart. Did you publish the orders about the capture of the
transport?"
"Yes, sir, and it put new heart in the men, I could see. I wish we had
the supplies, the clothing especially, now. It grows colder every
moment."
"Ay, and darker, too; I think we shall have snow again before we get
through with the night. I wonder how the others down the river have
got along. But who comes here?" continued the general, as two men
walked hastily up to him and saluted.
"Well, sir?" he said to the first.
"Message from General Ewing, sir."
"Did he get across?"
"No, sir, the ice was so heavy he bade me say he deemed it useless to
try it."
"One piece removed from the game, General Greene," said Washington,
smiling bitterly. "Now your news, sir?" to the other.
"General Cadwalader got a part of his men across, but the ice banks so
against the east side that not a single horse or piece of artillery
could be landed, so he bade me say he has recrossed with his men, sir."
"And there's the other piece gone, too! Now, what is to be done?"
General Sullivan, having crossed with the last of his division, at this
moment rode up.
"The troops are all across, general," he said.
"Well done! What time is it, some one?"
"Half after eleven, sir," answered a voice.
"Very well, indeed! We have now only to wait for the guns. But,
gentlemen, I have just heard that Ewing made no attempt to cross, and
that Cadwalader, having tried it, failed. He could get his men over,
but no horses and guns, on account of the ice on the bank, and
therefore he returned, and we are here alone. What, think you, is to
be done now?"
There was a moment's silence.
"Perhaps we would better recross and try it again on a more favorable
night," finally said De Fermoy, in his broken accents.
"Yes, yes, that might be well," said one or two others, simultaneously.
The most of them, however, said nothing. The general waited a moment,
looking about him.
"Gentlemen, it is too late to retreat. I promised myself I would not
return without a fight, and I intend to keep that promise. We will
carry out the plan ourselves, as much of it at least as we can. I
trust Putnam got Griffin off, and that his skirmishers may draw out Von
Donop. But be that as it may, we will have a dash at Trenton, and try
to bag the game, and get away before the enemy can fall upon us in
force. General Greene, you, of course have sent out pickets?"
"Yes, sir, the first men who crossed over, a mile up the road, on the
hill yonder."
"Good! Ha, what was that? Snow, as I live, and the moon 's gone, too!
How dark it has grown! I think you might allow the men to light fires
in those hollows, and let them move about a little; they will freeze to
death standing still--I wonder they don't, anyway. How unfortunate is
this snow!"
"Beg pardon, your excellency?" said the first of the two messengers.
"What is it, man? Speak out!"
"Can we stay here and take part in your attack, sir?"
"Certainly you may. Fall in with the men there. Where are your
horses?"
"We left them on the other side, sir."
"Well, they will have to stay there for this time, and you 'll have to
go on foot with the rest."
"Thank you, sir," said the men, eagerly, darting off in the darkness.
"That's a proper spirit, isn't it? Well, to your stations, gentlemen!
We have nothing to do now but wait. Don't allow the men to lie down or
to sleep, on any account."
And wait they did, for four long hours, the general sitting motionless
and silent on his horse, wrapped in his heavy cloak, unheeding, alike,
the whirling snow or the cutting sleet of the storm, which grew fiercer
every moment. He strained his eyes out into the blackness of the river
from time to time, or looked anxiously at the troops, clustered about
the fires, or tramping restlessly up and down in their places to ward
off the deadly attack of the awful winter night, while some of them
sought shelter, behind trees and hillocks, from the fury of the storm.
Filled with his own pregnant thoughts, and speaking to no one, he
waited, and no man ventured to break his silence. At half after three
General Knox, whose resolute will and iron strength had been exerted to
the full, and whose mighty voice had been heard from time to time above
the shriek of the fierce wind, was able to report that he had got all
the artillery over without the loss of a man, a horse, or a gun, and
was ready to proceed. The men were hastily assembled, and, leaving a
strong detail to guard the boats, at four o'clock in the morning the
long and awful march to Trenton was begun, the general and his staff,
escorted by the Philadelphia City Troop, in the lead. The storm was at
its height. All hopes of a night attack and surprise had necessarily
to be abandoned. Still the general pressed on, determined to abide the
issue, and make the attack as soon as he reached the enemy. It was the
last effort of liberty, conceived in desperation and born in the throes
of hunger and cold! What would the bringing forth be?