THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
The British army now numbered thirty thousand troops, while Washington's
entire command was not over seven thousand strong. The Howes, one a
general and the other an admiral, now turned their attention to New
York. Washington, however, was on the ground beforehand.
Howe's idea was to first capture Brooklyn, so that he could have a place
in which to sleep at nights while engaged in taking New York.
The battle was brief. Howe attacked the little army in front, while
General Clinton got around by a circuitous route to the rear of the
Colonial troops and cut them off. The Americans lost one thousand men by
death or capture. The prisoners were confined in the old sugar-house on
Liberty Street, where they suffered the most miserable and indescribable
deaths.
The army of the Americans fortunately escaped by Fulton Ferry in a fog,
otherwise it would have been obliterated. Washington now fortified
Harlem Heights, and later withdrew to White Plains. Afterwards he
retired to a fortified camp called North Castle.
Howe feared to attack him there, and so sent the Hessians, who captured
Fort Washington, November 16.
It looked scaly for the Americans, as Motley says, and Philadelphia bade
fair to join New York and other cities held by the British. The English
van could be seen from the Colonial rear column. The American troops
were almost barefooted, and left their blood-stained tracks on the
frozen road.
It was at this time that Washington crossed the Delaware and thereby
found himself on the other side; while Howe decided to remain, as the
river was freezing, and when the ice got strong enough, cross over and
kill the Americans at his leisure. Had he followed the Colonial army, it
is quite sure now that the English would have conquered, and the author
would have been the Duke of Sandy Bottom, instead of a plain American
citizen, unknown, unhonored, and unsung.
[Illustration: NYE AS THE DUKE OF SANDY BOTTOM.]
Washington decided that he must strike a daring blow while his troops
had any hope or vitality left; and so on Christmas night, after
crossing the Delaware as shown elsewhere, he fell on the Hessians at
Trenton in the midst of their festivities, captured one thousand
prisoners, and slew the leader.
The Hessians were having a symposium at the time, and though the
commander received an important note of warning during the Christmas
dinner, he thrust it into his pocket and bade joy be unconfined.
When daylight came, the Hessians were mostly moving in alcoholic circles
trying to find their guns. Washington lost only four men, and two of
those were frozen to death.
The result of this fight gave the Colonists courage and taught them at
the same time that it would be best to avoid New Jersey symposiums till
after the war was over.
Having made such a hit in crossing the Delaware, Washington decided to
repeat the performance on the 3d of January. He was attacked at Trenton
by Cornwallis, who is known in history for his justly celebrated
surrender. He waited till morning, having been repulsed at sundown.
Washington left his camp-fires burning, surrounded the British, captured
two hundred prisoners, and got away to Morristown Heights in safety. If
the ground had not frozen, General Washington could not have moved his
forty cannon; but, fortunately, the thermometer was again on his side,
and he never lost a gun.
September 11 the English got into the Chesapeake, and Washington
announced in the papers that he would now fight the battle of the
Brandywine, which he did.
[Illustration: THE COLONIAL SURPRISE-PARTY AT TRENTON.]
Marie Jean Paul Roch Yves Gilbert Motier, Marquis de La Fayette, fought
bravely with the Americans in this battle, twice having his name shot
from under him.
The patriots were routed, scoring a goose-egg and losing Philadelphia.
October 4, Washington attacked the enemy at Germantown, and was beaten
back just as victory was arranging to perch on his banner. Poor
Washington now retired to Valley Forge, where he put in about the
dullest winter of his life.
The English had not been so successful in the North. At first the
Americans could only delay Burgoyne by felling trees in the path of his
eight thousand men, which is a very unsatisfactory sort of warfare, but
at last Schuyler, who had borne the burden and heat of the day, was
succeeded by Gates, and good luck seemed to come slowly his way.
A foolish boy with bullet-holes cut in his clothes ran into St. Leger's
troops, and out of breath told them to turn back or they would fill a
drunkard's grave. Officers asked him about the numbers of the enemy, and
he pointed to the leaves of the trees, shrieked, and ran for his life.
He ran several days, and was barely able to keep ahead of St. Leger's
troops by a neck.
Burgoyne at another time sent a detachment under Colonel Baum to take
the stores at Bennington, Vermont. He was met by General Stark and the
militia. Stark said, "Here come the redcoats, and we must beat them
to-day, or Molly Stark is a widow." This neat little remark made an
instantaneous hit, and when they counted up their string of prisoners
at night they found they had six hundred souls and a Hessian.
Burgoyne now felt blue and unhappy. Besides, his troops were covered
with wood-ticks and had had no washing done for three weeks.
He moved southward and attacked Gates at Bemis Heights, or, as a British
wit had it, "gave Gates ajar," near Saratoga. A wavering fight occupied
the day, and then both armies turned in and fortified for two weeks.
Burgoyne saw that he was running out of food, and so was first to open
fire.
Arnold, who had been deprived of his command since the last battle,
probably to prevent his wiping out the entire enemy and getting
promoted, was so maddened by the conflict that he dashed in before Gates
could put him in the guard-house, and at the head of his old command,
and without authority or hat, led the attack. Gates did not dare to come
where Arnold was, to order him back, for it was a very warm place where
Arnold was at the time. The enemy was thus driven to camp.
Arnold was shot in the same leg that was wounded at Quebec; so he was
borne back to the extreme rear, where he found Gates eating a doughnut
and speaking disrespectfully of Arnold.
A council was now held in Burgoyne's tent, and on the question of
renewing the fight stood six to six, when an eighteen-pound hot shot
went through the tent, knocking a stylographic pen out of General
Burgoyne's hand. Almost at once he decided to surrender, and the entire
army of six thousand men was surrendered, together with arms, portable
bath-tubs, and leather hat-boxes. The Americans marched into their camp
to the tune of Yankee Doodle, which is one of the most impudent
compositions ever composed.
[Illustration: KNOCKING A STYLOGRAPHIC PEN OUT OF BURGOYNE'S HAND.]
During the Valley Forge winter (1777-78) Continental currency
depreciated in value so that an officer's pay would not buy his clothes.
Many, having also spent their private funds for the prosecution of the
war, were obliged to resign and hire out in the lumber woods in order to
get food for their families. Troops had no blankets, and straw was not
to be had. It was extremely sad; but there was no wavering. Officers
were approached by the enemy with from one hundred to one thousand
pounds if they would accept and use their influence to effect a
reconciliation; but, with blazing eye and unfaltering attitude, each
stated that he was not for sale, and returned to his frozen mud-hole to
rest and dream of food and freedom.
Those were the untitled nobility from whom we sprung. Let us look over
our personal record and see if we are living lives that are worthy of
such heroic sires.
Five minutes will now be given the reader to make a careful examination
of his personal record.
* * * * *
In the spring the joyful news came across the sea that, through the
efforts of Benjamin Franklin, France had acknowledged the independence
of the United States, and a fleet was on the way to assist the
struggling troops.
The battle of Monmouth occurred June 28. Clinton succeeded Howe, and,
alarmed by the news of the French fleet, the government ordered Clinton
to concentrate his troops near New York, where there were better
facilities for getting home.
Washington followed the enemy across New Jersey, overtaking them at
Monmouth. Lee was in command, and got his men tangled in a swamp where
the mosquitoes were quite plenty, and, losing courage, ordered a
retreat.
Washington arrived at that moment, and bitterly upbraided Lee. He used
the Flanders method of upbraiding, it is said, and Lee could not stand
it. He started towards the enemy in preference to being there with
Washington, who was still rebuking him. The fight was renewed, and all
day long they fought. When night came, Clinton took his troops with him
and went away where they could be by themselves.
An effort was made to get up a fight between the French fleet and the
English at Newport for the championship, but a severe storm came up and
prevented it.
In July the Wyoming Massacre, under the management of the Tories and
Indians, commanded by Butler, took place in that beautiful valley near
Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania.
This massacre did more to make the Indians and Tories unpopular in this
country than any other act of the war. The men were away in the army,
and the women, children, and old men alone were left to the vengeance of
the two varieties of savage. The Indians had never had gospel
privileges, but the Tories had. Otherwise they resembled each other.
In 1779 the English seemed to have Georgia and the South pretty well to
themselves. Prevost, the English general, made an attack on Charleston,
but, learning that Lincoln was after him, decided that, as he had a
telegram to meet a personal friend at Savannah, he would go there. In
September, Lincoln, assisted by the French under D'Estaing, attacked
Savannah. One thousand lives were lost, and D'Estaing showed the white
feather to advantage. Count Pulaski lost his life in this fight. He was
a brave Polish patriot, and his body was buried in the Savannah River.
The capture of Stony Point about this time by "Mad Anthony Wayne" was
one of the most brilliant battles of the war.
[Illustration: THE ONLY THING WAYNE WAS AFRAID OF.]
Learning the countersign from a negro who sold strawberries to the
British, the troops passed the guard over the bridge that covered the
marsh, and, gagging the worthy inside guard, they marched up the hill
with fixed bayonets and fixed the enemy to the number of six hundred.
The countersign was, "The fort is won," and so it was, in less time than
it takes to ejaculate the word "scat!" Wayne was wounded at the outset,
but was carried up the hill in command, with a bandage tied about his
head. He was a brave man, and never knew in battle what fear was. Yet,
strange to say, a bat in his bed would make him start up and turn pale.