British war vessel entered Delaware Bay. This vessel was a frigate
called “Roebuck.” She came sailing slowly in, the black mouths of her
guns threatening the town, and anchored in the bay. Her tender followed
her, and she too was armed with guns.
Then all Lewes was in a stir. Messengers were sent riding in hot haste
to Philadelphia, and all along the way they spread the news that the
British ships had arrived. Colonel John Haslet came marching down to
Lewes at the head of the Delaware militia, so as to be ready to protect
the town against the English, in case they tried to land.
This, however, the British did not try to do. They cruised up and down
in the “Roebuck,” or lay at anchor in the bay.
They managed to capture a pilot boat named the “Alarm,” near Lewes,
and they fitted her out as a second tender. A little later they made a
prize of an American sloop called the “Plymouth.” All the men from the
tender were put on board this new prize except a lieutenant and three
soldiers who were still left on the “Alarm,” to take care of her. But
that night the helmsman on the “Alarm” fell asleep; the boat drifted
on shore, and the lieutenant and his men were taken prisoner by the
Americans.
There had as yet been no shots exchanged between the Americans and
the English. But one bright, clear Sunday morning in April, word was
brought to Colonel Haslet that an American schooner had anchored just
off the shore below Cape Henlopen. The captain wished him to send men
to help unload her. She carried supplies for the Americans.
Unluckily, news of the schooner reached the British, too, and at the
same time that Haslet’s men started by land to help the captain unload,
the British tender started by sea.
The Americans made all the haste they could, but they were obliged to
cross a creek before they could reach the place where the schooner
lay. The country people brought boats and ferried them over, but the
soldiers soon saw that the tender was out-racing them.
The captain of the schooner saw this, too, and rather than have his
cargo fall into the hands of the British, he set his sails, and ran
ashore.
As soon as the American soldiers arrived they began to fire at the
tender, but she kept too far away for their bullets to reach her.
Seeing this, they laid aside their muskets and set to work to help the
sailors unload the schooner.
The tender kept firing at them all the while they were unloading, but
her shots fell harmlessly in the sand. Several of the soldiers picked
up the balls as they fell, and carried them home to show to their
families.
The tender now sent a barge back to summon the “Roebuck,” and
presently, the frigate came sailing around the Cape at full speed to
help the tender. She swept down toward the schooner like a great bird,
but presently she found she was running into shoal water. She was
obliged to come to anchor just off the Hen-and-Chicken shoals, but from
there she began to fire at the soldiers and the schooner.
The Americans now turned the schooner’s guns on the frigate and tender.
They saw a gunner on the frigate throw up his arms and fall. A number
of the English were wounded, but not a single American was hurt.
Presently, the frigate, finding it a losing game, sailed back around
the Cape and out of reach.
No more shots were exchanged between the English and American vessels
until May. Early in that month the “Roebuck” was joined by the sloop
“Liverpool,” and the two with their tenders sailed straight up the
bay and river toward Wilmington. Then they moved to and fro, between
Chester and New Castle.
News of their coming went before them. At New Castle, houses were
closed, and the people loaded their goods in wagons and carriages and
fled back into the country.
At Wilmington, a number of row-galleys (some thirteen in number) were
gathered and furnished with guns and ammunition, and were made ready
in every way to give battle to the enemy. The galleys were under the
command of Captain Houston, of Philadelphia.
It was on the morning of the eighth of May, that the British sails were
seen coming up the river. Great crowds of people had gathered on the
banks to watch the battle.
It was not until the British vessels were almost opposite Christiana
creek that the firing began. The dull boom of the guns echoed and
re-echoed from the wooded hills of the Brandywine. Great puffs of grey
smoke drifted across the water. Sometimes the vessels were almost
hidden.
In the midst of the battle, four Wilmington boys started out from the
shore, armed with some old muskets that they had somehow got hold
of. They boldly rowed out through the smoke until they were directly
under the stern of the “Liverpool,” and then they began to fire at her.
Presently, an officer on the sloop saw them.
“Captain,” he called to his commanding officer, “do you see those young
rebels? Shall I fire on them?”
The brave old Captain Bellew shook his head. “No, no,” he cried; “don’t
hurt the boys. Let them break the cabin windows if they want to.”
That indeed, was about all the damage the young patriots were able to
do. When they had used up their ammunition, they rowed back to the
shore again unhurt.
While the firing was still at the hottest, a major of artillery came
riding at full speed. He threw himself from his horse, and begged a
couple of boatmen who were standing with the crowd, to row him out to
the galleys; he wished to have a chance to fire a shot at the enemy.
The boatmen refused. They were afraid they might get shot, but when the
major promised them a handful of money they changed their minds and
agreed to row to the nearest galley.
As soon as the major was on board the boat, he stationed himself at
a gun and began to fire it off, and as he proved to be a very good
shot he was allowed to stay there. After a while he called for more
ammunition, but was told that it had all been used. The gallant officer
pulled off his boots, filled them with powder, rammed them into the gun
and fired it for the last time. In after life his boast was that he had
not only been in the first naval battle of the war, but that he had
fired his boots at the enemy.
On all the galleys the officers showed the greatest bravery. The
British had at first looked with contempt at the open boats that had
come to fight them. It did not take many shots, however, to teach them
that these American galleys were not to be despised.
A part of the “Roebuck’s” rigging was shot away and her sides were
badly damaged by the balls. Finally, in trying to get nearer to the
galleys she ran aground, near the mouth of the Christiana creek. She
now keeled over in such a way that she could no longer use her guns.
Night came and she still lay there, unable to get off into deep water,
or to right herself. The great fear of her men was that the galleys
might come to attack her while she lay there helpless, so they sent out
three small boats and kept them circling around her all night to watch
out for an attack. If the Americans had come, it was the plan of the
English to fill the small boats with as many of the “Roebuck’s” men as
they could, and send them over to the “Liverpool.” The “Liverpool” was
then to retreat down the river. However, the night passed quietly, and
at four o’clock in the morning the water had risen so that they were
able to get the “Roebuck” off.
In the morning, the row-galleys returned to the attack, though they had
been very much damaged the day before. But their men were as determined
as ever, and they had a fresh supply of ammunition. One of their shots
went clear through the bows of the “Roebuck,” and a number of her men
were wounded. One of the officers was killed.
The British now decided to retreat. Very slowly they drew off and
drifted down the river. On their way they tried to destroy the little
town of Port Penn, but they could not get near enough to the shore; the
water was too shallow.
When they reached Lewes they lay there for some time, while the ship’s
carpenters mended the holes made by the American shots. They took on
fresh water and provisions, and then sailed out from the Delaware
waters.
So ended the first naval battle of the Revolution; a battle fought in
Delaware waters. One other sea fight was fought there, and it was the
last one of the war. It was between the American sloop of war “Hyder
Alley,” and the British sloop “General Monk,” and in this, too, the
British were defeated. It was not an important battle, but it seemed a
curious chance that the first and the last sea-fights of the Revolution
should both have been in Delaware waters.
[Illustration: Old Henlopen Light]
[Illustration]
How Once Upon A Time The Blue Hen’s Chickens Went To War.
[Illustration: Winter at Valley Forge · 1778]
WAR had begun,—war between the United Colonies of America, with their
small, poorly armed forces, and England, the richest and most powerful
country in the world.
From all the thirteen colonies of America, regiments marched away to
join General Washington and the little army he had already gathered
together.
Delaware sent her regiment with the rest. It was under the command of
Colonel John Haslet.[21] Men had come from all over the state to enlist
in it. They carried whatever weapons they could get,—rifles, carbines,
muskets or fowling pieces. A few of them had uniforms, but some of them
had not even coats, and so came in their shirt sleeves.
The regiment set out from Dover to the sound of fife and drum. Their
flag waved gaily over them and the people crowded the streets, and
waved and cheered to see them go.
It was a long, hot march from Dover up to New York, where General
Washington was encamped. The soldiers soon grew footsore and weary,
marching, as they did, from early dawn till night. Sometimes when they
passed a stream they broke ranks to kneel on its bank and drink the
cool, running water. Sometimes the farmers came out and handed them
summer fruits and vegetables as they passed, and as they went through
the towns the people cheered and waved their handkerchiefs to them.
At last they reached New York, but they had no sooner arrived than
the whole regiment was ordered to cross the river and join General
Stirling’s brigade in Brooklyn. Stirling was expecting an attack from
the British at any time, and he needed all the troops he could get.
Before the regiment had left Delaware, Colonel Haslet had begun to
drill them, and as soon as they were settled in Brooklyn the drill
began again. The men were kept at it until their bones ached and they
were ready to drop with weariness, but it was this constant drilling
that brought the Delaware regiment into shape, and afterward won for it
the name of “the picked regiment of the Colonial Army.”
One evening when the men were resting around the fires, one of their
comrades came out from a tent carrying two game-cocks by the legs.
Somehow he had managed to bring them up from Delaware with him. They
were of a bluish grey color, and were of a breed well known in Kent
County, and called “_Blue Game Chickens_.”
When the soldiers saw the two cocks they shouted for joy. “A
chicken-fight! A chicken-fight!” they cried. “We’ll have a
chicken-fight. Where did you get them Bill?”
Bill threw the cocks into the middle of the ring. For a moment they
stood looking about with their bright eyes. Then they lowered their
heads and ruffled their feathers. The next moment they flew at each
other and fought furiously but before they could injure each other they
were separated and shut up in boxes.
“That’s the way we’ve got to fight,” cried Bill. “We’re sons of the old
Blue Hen, and we’re game to the end.”
“That’s what we are,” shouted the others. “We’re the _Blue Hen’s
Chickens_, the fighting breed.” And from that night that was the name
by which the plucky Delaware regiment went—_The Blue Hen’s Chickens_.
The Delaware regiment[22] was soon to prove its courage. It was August
twenty-seventh, about five days after they had arrived in Brooklyn,
that they first went under fire.
On the twenty-sixth, General Stirling had received news that the next
morning the British meant to attack his forces. They would begin the
attack very early.
It was not yet light when the Delaware regiment, shivering with
excitement, was marched out, and stationed near an orchard. In this
orchard the Maryland regiment was placed but just where the British
troops were they did not know.
It was too dark to see anything at first, but there were sounds that
made them know that somewhere there in the darkness, the enemy was
moving and marching. Presently, a faint light began to show in the sky.
There were shots in the distance. Then they saw through the growing
light a great dark moving mass opposite to them. Nearer and nearer it
came, and now they could see long lines of the Hessians; the light
glittered on the brass fronts of their immense caps.
They were coming!
The Maryland and Delaware regiments opened fire, and here and there
they saw a Hessian throw up his arms and fall, but immediately the
ranks filled up, and on they came at a steady, quick step. The Delaware
regiment had found some shelter behind an old fence.
“Fix bayonets!” There was a rattle and clash as the bayonets of the
Delawares slipped into place. “Forward, _charge_!” Out from their
shelter sprang the Delaware soldiers. They charged upon the Hessians,
but they were met by such a steady front that for a moment they
wavered. Then (we are told) a captain of Smallwood’s company sprang
forward and caught the Delaware flag from the flag bearer; he flung it
over into the midst of the Hessian regiment.
A long roar followed as the Delaware men flung themselves forward, mad
to recover their flag. Before that fierce rush, the Hessians wavered
and broke; they tried to recover and then turned and fled, and again
the flag of Delaware waved over the heads of the Blue Hen’s Chickens.
The Maryland regiment had also charged, and now they and the Delaware
soldiers stood drawn up on a hill. The guns of the enemy were turned
upon them, but their colors were flying. Other regiments of the
American army had been forced to retreat, but these gallant little
bands did not think of quitting their place. At last an express order
came from the General commanding them to retreat. Then, and not till
then, they fell back. Their flags were almost cut to pieces with shot,
but the Delaware regiment retreated in such good order that they lost
but few men.[23] The Marylanders were not so lucky, as many of them
were taken prisoners or killed.
This victory seemed to satisfy the British for the time. They took up
their quarters in Trenton and then they led a merry life, feasting and
drinking. They stole as they liked from all the country round, and the
poor country people were helpless. If they resisted they were shot down
like dogs.
So the autumn and the first part of December passed. Upon the other
side of the river from Trenton, the American forces were encamped.
December was bitterly cold. Many of our men had no shoes. Food and
blankets were scarce. The men kept the fires going day and night.
The day before Christmas, word was passed through the American
encampment that on Christmas morning they would cross the river and
attack the English. The men cheered when they heard that news.
Christmas day dawned cold and dark and snowy. In the chill morning the
men were marched, company after company, down to the flat boats that
lay on the river, and were rowed over to the other side. Men and horses
huddled together, trying to get some warmth from each other. The bitter
wind whistled past their ears, and the sleet cut their faces.
On the Trenton side the troops were landed, and then began a seven
miles tramp through the snow. The men struggled through the drifts,
blinded by the sleet. Their hands were almost frozen to their muskets.
As they drew near the British encampment they were halted for a rest.
They stood there in the snow, panting and leaning on their muskets.
They could hear, through the snowy air, the ringing of the bells,
and the shouts of the British soldiers. A gun was fired. They almost
thought they heard a roar of laughter. The British were making merry at
Christmas with no thought that their enemies were so near.
“Silence, and forward!”—the muffled order passed along the line.
The soldiers again shouldered their muskets and marched on. The deep
drifts muffled their footsteps and the falling snow hid them like a
curtain. Two hundred yards from the British encampment they were formed
in line and the order rang out, “Forward, _charge_!”
Down upon the encampment they swept, running, leaping, stumbling
through the drifts.
There was a wild alarm in the British camp, and a scramble for muskets,
but the surprise was too sudden for them. They could not escape,
and within half an hour the Americans had made one thousand of them
prisoners; they had also captured one thousand muskets, and sixteen
hundred blankets. Many a poor lad, for the first time in weeks, slept
warm that Christmas night in British blankets.
When the cities heard of the great victory their army had won at
Trenton, bells were rung and bonfires were lighted; they went mad with
joy.
The battle of Princeton, which followed soon after, was an even
greater victory for the Americans. But Delaware could not share in the
rejoicings that followed, for her brave regiment was almost cut to
pieces in that battle. Of the eight hundred men who fought that day
barely one hundred were left, and Colonel Haslet was killed by a shot
through the head.
Washington now called for more troops, and again Delaware gathered
together a regiment and sent it north to join him.
The men under Hall were with Washington in the battle of Brandywine,
when his forces were terribly defeated, and also in the battle at
Germantown; and they went with him into winter quarters at Valley Forge.
Though the troops had suffered at Trenton the winter before, it was
nothing to their sufferings at Valley Forge. They built themselves
rough log huts, which gave them some shelter, and they had plenty of
wood to burn, but food was scarce. The death of a horse was hailed
with joy, for then they could have meat. Their clothing fell into rags,
and they had nothing to sleep on but the bare earthen floors of their
huts. Washington sent out orders to all the farmers round to thresh out
their grain, and let the soldiers have the straw to sleep on.[24]
Almost every day the General went from hut to hut, cheering and
encouraging his soldiers as best he could.
One day he saw a soldier tramping barefoot through the snow. His foot
prints were marked with blood. Washington unfastened his cloak and held
it out to the man, “Here my poor fellow,” he said, “tear this into
strips and bind it around your feet.”
The soldier refused the cloak with a laugh. “That’s all right,
General,” he said. “I don’t need it. As long as my feet are bleeding I
know they’re not frozen.”
Not all of the men could bear the suffering and hunger however. Many
died, and still more deserted. In February there were in camp only
about five thousand men able to work and carry arms. The regiment of
Delaware was among the faithful ones who staid through it all.
It was with joy that the American soldiers saw the coming of spring.
On clear days they stretched themselves out in the sun and felt fresh
life warming their bodies. Thin, sickly and ragged, they still found
strength to joke and laugh.
The British troops, who had spent the winter in Philadelphia, were in
fine condition. They had been well fed and housed, and had spent their
time in merry making and balls, while our poor men were starving in
their huts.
In April 1780,[25] our army was again on the move. The Delaware and
Maryland regiments were ordered south under Baron DeKalb, to join
General Greene’s army, which was fighting there. It was in this
Southern campaign that the Delaware regiment won its greatest glory.
The Blue Hen’s Chickens were in many battles and skirmishes, and in all
they bore themselves with the greatest bravery.
Then, in August, came the battle of Camden, South Carolina. It was the
battle in which the Delaware regiment proved themselves bravest, and
the last in which they were to fight as a separate regiment.
Cornwallis had determined to attack our forces early in the morning of
the fifteenth.
All that night the two armies lay opposite to each other, waiting for
the daylight. The American forces had more men than the British, but
many of them were raw recruits, and many were deserters. Cornwallis’s
men were in good condition, and were almost all veteran fighters.
Before dawn the British began to take their positions and prepare for
an attack, and the Americans made ready to meet them.
In the early dawning the first charge was made. The Americans saw the
forces charging down upon them. The Virginia militia were seized with a
panic. The order came to fire. Hardly knowing what they did, they fired
one shot and then threw down their arms and ran. The North Carolina
regiment saw them running, and without even one shot, they, too, threw
away their muskets and ran. Only the Delaware men, the Marylanders and
one North Carolina regiment were left to bear the brunt of the attack.
DeKalb now gave the order to his men to charge with bayonets. Fiercely
the Delaware and Maryland regiments charged upon the enemy,—so fiercely
that they broke the British line. But the British guns poured on them
volleys of grape and canister. It was more than our men could bear.
They were obliged to retreat. Again came the order to charge, and
again they threw themselves against those solid ranks of the British,
and were driven back. Three times they charged, and then, almost cut
to pieces, they were obliged to retreat. Of the brave regiment of
Delaware, a mere handful of men was left. Baron DeKalb himself had
fallen, with eleven wounds.
So ended the terrible battle of Camden. After it was over, many of
the Americans hid themselves in the swamps and woods for a time. The
few Delaware soldiers who were left joined the Virginia regiment.
They fought with them through the rest of the war, and when peace was
declared Virginia offered to each of them one hundred acres of ground
if they would settle there. However, they preferred to return to their
own state and people.
The prisoners who were taken were sent to Charleston. Among them was
Major Patten, a gallant officer. He had taken with him into the
war his own body servant, a negro, and had entrusted to him all his
clothes. When the battle was over the negro had disappeared and Major
Patten never saw him again. He entered Charleston a prisoner, and in
rags. There were many loyal ladies there however, and they made him a
set of shirts and did for him what they could. He was very handsome and
gay, and as he was allowed a great deal of liberty, he became a great
favorite. After the war was ended, he returned to his home near Dover
and showed with pride some of these shirts which had been made for him
by the Charleston ladies.
He was more fortunate than many of the other soldiers. Some of them
returned in rags, to find their farms and homesteads fallen almost into
ruin. Some had lost their health or were suffering from wounds. But
one thing our Delaware men had won,—the glory of having made part of
that regiment fittingly called the “picked regiment of the Continental
Army.”[26]
[Illustration: Blue Game Hen, Chickens & Cock.]
NOTES
[21] This regiment was composed of eight companies and numbered eight
hundred men.
Haslet has well been called the father of the first Delaware regiment.
He raised it before the Declaration of Independence was declared, and
drilled it himself, taking the greatest pride in it. He was a native of
Ireland, but at the time of the Revolutionary War was living at Dover,
where his remains now lie.
[22] Haslet’s regiment, as will be hereafter seen, remained in the army
only up to the battle of Princeton.
Patterson’s was a part of the “Flying Camp,” a body of men called out
for temporary duty................... The regiment of Hall was the only
Continental one we furnished.
[23] Brigadier General Thomas Mifflin wrote to Mr. Reed in January of
1777, “The officers (of the Delaware Regiment) in particular deserve
the thanks and esteem of their country for the readiness shown by them
to turn out on all occasions.”