THE RETREAT FROM LONG ISLAND
The night after the battle was a weary, yet almost sleepless one to the
Americans. Fatigued, dispirited, many of them sick and wounded, yet they
were, for the most part, without tent or other shelter. To Washington it
was a night of anxious vigil. Every thing boded a close and deadly
conflict. The enemy had pitched a number of tents about a mile distant.
Their sentries were but a quarter of a mile off, and close to the
American sentries. At four o’clock in the morning, Washington went the
round of the works, to see that all was right, and to speak words of
encouragement. The morning broke lowering and dreary. Large encampments
were gradually descried; to appearance, the enemy were twenty thousand
strong. As the day advanced, their ordnance began to play upon the
works. They were proceeding to intrench themselves, but were driven into
their tents by a drenching rain.
Early in the morning General Mifflin arrived in camp, with part of the
troops which had been stationed at Fort Washington and King’s Bridge. He
brought with him Shee’s prime Philadelphia regiment, and Magaw’s
Pennsylvania regiment, both well disciplined and officered, and
accustomed to act together. They were so much reduced in number,
however, by sickness, that they did not amount in the whole, to more
than eight hundred men. With Mifflin came also Colonel Glover’s
Massachusetts regiment, composed chiefly of Marblehead fishermen and
sailors, hardy, adroit, and weather-proof; trimly clad in blue jackets
and trowsers. The detachment numbered, in the whole, about thirteen
hundred men, all fresh and full of spirits. Every eye brightened as they
marched briskly along the line with alert step and cheery aspect. They
were posted at the left extremity of the intrenchments towards the
Wallabout.
There were skirmishes throughout the day, between the riflemen on the
advanced posts and the British “irregulars,” which at times were quite
severe; but no decided attack was attempted. The main body of the enemy
kept within their tents until the latter part of the day; when they
began to break ground at about five hundred yards distance from the
works, as if preparing to carry them by regular approaches.
On the 29th, there was a dense fog over the island, that wrapped every
thing in mystery. In the course of the morning, General Mifflin, with
Adjutant-general Reed, and Colonel Grayson of Virginia, one of
Washington’s aides-de-camp, rode to the western outposts, in the
neighborhood of Red Hook. While they were there, a light breeze lifted
the fog from a part of the New York Bay, and revealed the British ships
at their anchorage opposite Staten Island. There appeared to be an
unusual bustle among them. Boats were passing to and from the admiral’s
ship, as if seeking or carrying orders. Some movement was apparently in
agitation. The idea occurred to the reconnoitring party that the fleet
was preparing, should the wind hold and the fog clear away, to come up
the bay at the turn of the tide, silence the feeble batteries at Red
Hook and the city, and anchor in the East River. In that case the army
on Long Island would be completely surrounded and entrapped.
Alarmed at this perilous probability, they spurred back to
head-quarters, to urge the immediate withdrawal of the army. As this
might not be acceptable advice, Reed, emboldened by his intimacy with
the commander-in-chief, undertook to give it. Washington instantly
summoned a council of war. The difficulty was already apparent, of
guarding such extensive works with troops fatigued and dispirited, and
exposed to the inclemencies of the weather. Other dangers now presented
themselves. Their communication with New York might be cut off by the
fleet from below. Other ships had passed round Long Island, and were at
Flushing Bay on the Sound. These might land troops on the east side of
Harlem River, and make themselves masters of King’s Bridge; that key of
Manhattan Island. Taking all these things into consideration, it was
resolved to cross with the troops to the city that very night.
Never did retreat require greater secrecy and circumspection. Nine
thousand men, with all the munitions of war, were to be withdrawn from
before a victorious army, encamped so near, that every stroke of spade
and pickaxe from their trenches could be heard. The retreating troops,
moreover, were to be embarked and conveyed across a strait three
quarters of a mile wide, swept by rapid tides. The least alarm of their
movement would bring the enemy upon them, and produce a terrible scene
of confusion and carnage at the place of embarkation.
Washington made the preparatory arrangements with great alertness, yet
profound secrecy. Verbal orders were sent to Colonel Hughes, who acted
as quartermaster-general, to impress all water craft, large and small,
from Spyt den Duivel on the Hudson round to Hell Gate on the Sound, and
have them on the east side of the city by evening. The order was issued
at noon, and so promptly executed, that, although some of the vessels
had to be brought a distance of fifteen miles, they were all at Brooklyn
at eight o’clock in the evening, and put under the management of Colonel
Glover’s amphibious Marblehead regiment.
To prepare the army for a general movement without betraying the object,
orders were issued for the troops to hold themselves in readiness for a
night attack upon the enemy. The orders caused surprise, for the poor
fellows were exhausted, and their arms rendered nearly useless by the
rain; all, however, prepared to obey; but several made nuncupative
wills; as is customary among soldiers on the eve of sudden and deadly
peril.
According to Washington’s plan of retreat, to keep the enemy from
discovering the withdrawal of the Americans until their main body should
have embarked in the boats and pushed off from the shore, General
Mifflin was to remain at the lines with his Pennsylvania troops, and the
gallant remains of Haslet, Smallwood and Hand’s regiments, with guards
posted and sentinels alert, as if nothing extraordinary was taking
place; when the main embarkation was effected, they were themselves to
move off quietly, march briskly to the ferry, and embark. In case of any
alarm that might disconcert the arrangements, Brooklyn church was to be
the rallying place, whither all should repair, so as unitedly to resist
any attack.
It was late in the evening when the troops began to retire from the
breastworks. As one regiment quietly withdrew from their station on
guard, the troops on the right and left moved up and filled the vacancy.
There was a stifled murmur in the camp, unavoidable in a movement of the
kind; but it gradually died away in the direction of the river, as the
main body moved on in silence and order. The youthful Hamilton, whose
military merits had won the favor of General Greene, and who had lost
his baggage and a field-piece in the battle, brought up the rear of the
retreating party. In the dead of the night, and in the midst of this
hushed and anxious movement, a cannon went off with a tremendous roar.
“The effect,” says an American who was present, “was at once alarming
and sublime. If the explosion was within our lines, the gun was probably
discharged in the act of spiking it, and could have been no less a
matter of speculation to the enemy than to ourselves.”[101]
“What with the greatness of the stake, the darkness of the night, the
uncertainty of the design, and the extreme hazard of the issue,” adds
the same writer, “it would be difficult to conceive a more deeply solemn
and interesting scene.”
The meaning of this midnight gun was never ascertained; fortunately,
though it startled the Americans, it failed to rouse the British camp.
In the mean time the embarkation went on with all possible despatch,
under the vigilant eye of Washington, who stationed himself at the
ferry, superintending every movement. In his anxiety for despatch, he
sent back Colonel Scammel, one of his aides-de-camp, to hasten forward
all the troops that were on the march. Scammel blundered in executing
his errand, and gave the order to Mifflin likewise. The general
instantly called in his pickets and sentinels, and set off for the
ferry.
By this time the tide had turned; there was a strong wind from the
north-east; the boats with oars were insufficient to convey the troops;
those with sails could not make headway against wind and tide. There was
some confusion at the ferry, and in the midst of it, General Mifflin
came down with the whole covering party; adding to the embarrassment and
uproar.
“Good God! General Mifflin!” cried Washington, “I am afraid you have
ruined us by so unseasonably withdrawing the troops from the lines.”
“I did so by your order,” replied Mifflin with some warmth. “It cannot
be!” exclaimed Washington. “By G—, I did!” was the blunt rejoinder. “Did
Scammel act as aide-de-camp for the day, or did he not?” “He did.”
“Then,” said Mifflin, “I had orders through him.” “It is a dreadful
mistake,” rejoined Washington, “and unless the troops can regain the
lines before their absence is discovered by the enemy, the most
disastrous consequences are to be apprehended.”
Mifflin led back his men to the lines, which had been completely
deserted for three quarters of an hour. Fortunately, the dense fog had
prevented the enemy from discovering that they were unoccupied. The men
resumed their former posts, and remained at them until called off to
cross the ferry. “Whoever has seen troops in a similar situation,”
writes General Heath, “or duly contemplates the human heart in such
trials, will know how to appreciate the conduct of these brave men on
this occasion.”
The fog which prevailed all this time, seemed almost providential. While
it hung over Long Island, and concealed the movements of the Americans,
the atmosphere was clear on the New York side of the river. The adverse
wind, too, died away, the river became so smooth that the row-boats
could be laden almost to the gunwale; and a favoring breeze sprang up
for the sail-boats. The whole embarkation of troops, artillery,
ammunition, provisions, cattle, horses and carts, was happily effected,
and by daybreak the greater part had safely reached the city, thanks to
the aid of Glover’s Marblehead men. Scarce any thing was abandoned to
the enemy, excepting a few heavy pieces of artillery. At a proper time,
Mifflin with his covering party left the lines, and effected a silent
retreat to the ferry. Washington, though repeatedly entreated, refused
to enter a boat until all the troops were embarked; and crossed the
river with the last.
A Long Island tradition tells how the British camp became aware of the
march which had been stolen upon it.[102] Near the ferry, resided a Mrs.
Rapelye, whose husband, suspected of favoring the enemy, had been
removed to the interior of New Jersey. On seeing the embarkation of the
first detachment, she, out of loyalty or revenge, sent off a black
servant to inform the first British officer he could find, of what was
going on. The negro succeeded in passing the American sentinels, but
arrived at a Hessian outpost, where he could not make himself
understood, and was put under guard as a suspicious person. There he was
kept until daybreak, when an officer visiting the post, examined him,
and was astounded by his story. An alarm was given, the troops were
called to arms; Captain Montresor, aide-de-camp of General Howe,
followed by a handful of men, climbed cautiously over the crest of the
works and found them deserted. Advanced parties were hurried down to the
ferry. The fog had cleared away, sufficiently for them to see the rear
boats of the retreating army half way across the river. One boat, still
within musket shot, was compelled to return; it was manned by three
vagabonds, who had lingered behind to plunder.
This extraordinary retreat, which, in its silence and celerity, equalled
the midnight fortifying of Bunker’s Hill, was one of the most signal
achievements of the war, and redounded greatly to the reputation of
Washington, who, we are told, for forty-eight hours preceding the safe
extricating of his army from their perilous situation, scarce closed his
eyes, and was the greater part of the time on horseback. Many, however,
who considered the variety of risks and dangers which surrounded the
camp, and the apparently fortuitous circumstances which averted them
all, were disposed to attribute the safe retreat of the patriot army to
a peculiar Providence.