THE RETREAT.
Although Seth Hartley had not said very much, I understood exactly what
he meant, and verily do I believe there was no other on the sloop who
could have aided me in pulling myself together as did our prisoner--the
lobster-back whom we had stolen from the British fleet.
As if the idea was one that had just come into my mind, I gave the word
that the sloop should be warped as near inshore as the depth of water
would permit, and at the same time warned Sam that he had better be
getting about his duties as cook.
“If so be we must play ferry-boat again, we’ll be in shape for the
work,” I said, putting on such a swagger as I thought should be worn
by the captain of Minute Boys. “He who fights an’ runs away may live
to fight another day, so the old song says, an’ I dare venture to say
that’s what General Washington has got in his mind when he orders a
retreat. We’ll see our people forcin’ the Britishers back before we’re
many days older, an’ now all we’ve got to do is help the Americans off
the island.”
I saw Abraham looking at me out of the tail of his eye, and knew he was
trying to make out why I was become such a swashbuckler so suddenly;
but never a word in the way of explanation did I offer, and very likely
it is a mystery to Abe Decker even to this day.
However, my orders were carried out very promptly, and within another
hour we were ready for whatsoever might be required. Indeed our
preparations had been made none too soon, for Abel Grant had not yet
had time to light his pipe before the foremost of the retreating army
could be seen even amid the gloom.
And now am I minded to hasten over the events of this night, even
though in all the time I have lived I can recall nothing more stirring
and like to warm the blood of those who have the good of the Cause at
heart. If I spend the time necessary to the story, then must I leave
untold the details of our next encounter with Luther Stedman, therefore
it is that I will set down here what I saw printed a long while after
that eventful night, for we who called ourselves Minute Boys, our
prisoner, Seth Hartley, and James Martin, the wounded soldier, had
no other part in all the dangerous enterprise than to keep the sloop
moving from shore to shore as rapidly as possible.
By setting down here the words of another, as I did while telling the
soldier’s story, we shall come to the part we lads played, all the
more quickly, and he who does not care to read may pass it over, if,
peradventure, the doings of my comrades and myself are more pleasing.
“With twenty thousand men the English advanced on the American position
by different roads, and in the early morning of August 27th, they
encountered the Americans whom Putnam had sent out under Sullivan, who
had taken the place of Greene, owing to the illness of the latter.
“Sullivan was first attacked by a large body of Hessians under Von
Heister, and scarcely had the fight begun when he was assailed in the
rear by the main force. Between two galling fires, it was not possible
for the Americans to hold their ground, and nearly the whole force,
including the commander, were made prisoners of war.
“Another division of fifteen hundred American troops, under Lord
Stirling, was now assaulted by General Grant, and a little later
by Cornwallis. After four hours of desperate resistance, Stirling
succeeded in getting his men across a marshy stream to a plate of
safety, while he himself was taken prisoner, and the struggle known as
the Battle of Long Island was over. About four hundred had been killed
and wounded on each side, and the British had taken some eleven hundred
prisoners.
“An evacuation of Long Island, and a retreat to New York, was the
resolve of a council of war. The fog still rested heavily upon the
island, the harbor, and the adjacent city, like a shield of the
Almighty to cover the patriots from the peril of discovery. Although
lying within a few hundred yards of the American lines, the enemy had
no suspicion of the movement.
“At eight o’clock in the evening the patriot regiments were silently
paraded, the soldiers ignorant of the intent; but, owing to delay on
account of unfavorable wind, and some confusion in orders, it was near
midnight when the embarkation commenced at the ferry stairs, foot of
Fulton Street, Brooklyn. For six hours soldiers and volunteers plied
their muffled oars, and boat after boat, filled with the champions of
freedom, touched at the various wharves from Fulton ferry to Whitehall,
and left their precious burdens.
“At six in the morning nine thousand men, with their baggage and
munitions, except heavy artillery, had crossed. Mifflin with his
Pennsylvania battalions and the remains of the regiments of Smallwood
and Haslet, formed the covering party, and Washington and his staff,
who had been in the saddle all night, remained until the last company
had embarked. At dawn the fog lifted from the city, but remained dark
and dreary upon the deserted camp and the serried ranks of the foe,
until the last boat left the Long Island shore.
“Intelligence of this movement reached the British commander-in-chief
at half-past four in the morning. It was too late for successful
pursuit, for when battalion after battalion was called to arms, and
a troop of horsemen sped toward the East river, the last boat was
beyond pistol shot, and as the fog rolled away and the sunlight burst
upon the scene, the American flag was waving over the motley host of
Continentals and militia marching toward the hills of Rutgers’ farm.”
We lads and the “admiral” did good work on that night; but Lieutenant
Winterbottom did not come to us with orders, nor had we the honor of
ferrying over the leaders of our army. Many weeks afterward we learned
that the lieutenant had carried his last command in this world--he had
done all that the bravest might in defense of the Cause, for he had
given to it his life, and we lads mourned as for a warm friend, for
such he had been to us during the short time we knew him.
When morning came we remained aboard the sloop in the East river just
off Rutgers’ farm, believing the moment had come when there was no
longer any work for us, and wondering not a little as to what should
be done with Seth Hartley, for it seemed as if it was not our right to
hold him prisoner, even though he had been such only in name for many a
day.
It was Seth himself who settled the matter while we were eating
breakfast that morning, by saying:
“I’m not minded to turn deserter after once havin’ sworn to serve the
king, neither am I willin’ to do what I may against the people of this
colony, therefore it shall be as if you still held me to my parole.
It would be more manly, perhaps, if I stood out boldly as one who had
forsaken his colors after learning that the king was in the wrong; but
I’m thinkin’ it best to wait a while, an’ maybe the chance will come
when I can declare my intentions in proper fashion.”
And from that moment we counted him as one of us, never allowing the
idea to creep into our minds that he would return to the lobster-backs,
save as an enemy.
If I were to make any attempt at setting down all we said in the cuddy
of the sloop when we lay at anchor after our work as ferrymen, while
trying to figure out how it might be possible for us to do something
in aid of the Cause, I might never come to an end of my story, for our
tongues wagged fast and long in discussion, and we proposed many plans
which would have been so impossible of execution that he who might
read would set us down as a party of simples needing a lesson in sound
commonsense.
The result of so many words was that we arrived at no conclusion
whatsoever, and when night came all hands turned in, for we were
sadly in need of sleep, wondering with sore hearts as to what would
be the fate of our parents on Long Island now that the Britishers had
undisputed possession.
Although we were much the same as mustered out of service, it was not
to be that we should enjoy a full night’s sleep. It was to me as if I
had been lost in slumber no more than half an hour when I was brought
out of the bunk all standing by the roar of heavy guns, as, quite
naturally, were my companions.
Without being exactly aware of how we came there, all hands of us
found ourselves standing in the cockpit staring stupidly around until
the night breeze had blown the slumber from our eyes, when it seemed
very much as if the Britishers were determined to capture New York
before our people had had time to recover from the fatigue of the hasty
retreat.
The night was not so dark but that we could make out quite distinctly
a forty-gun ship coming up past the batteries on Bowling Green, her
port guns sending forth flashes of flame as she threw shot into the
city, and all the while every cannon on our side that could be brought
to bear on her, was being discharged as rapidly as the gunners could
reload it.
The din was deafening, and for a time I believed we had before us a
battle far more important than the one just fought on Long Island, for
then we heard the roar of the cannon from a great distance, whereas
here it was under our very noses, and more than once did a heavy shot
fall so near the sloop that we were drenched by the spray which spouted
up in torrents as the missile plunged hissing in the water.
“The fleet is comin’ up to lay the town in ashes!” Sam cried with a
sob, and verily every man jack of us was of the same opinion, for what
other explanation could be made?
The enormous ship came steadily on up the East river, apparently no
more disturbed by our fire than one of us would have been by a swarm of
mosquitoes, and as she approached, looking as though heading directly
for us, I made a simple of myself by giving words to the thought which
came suddenly into my mind:
“She is after us! That must be the same vessel from which we escaped,
an’ her captain is minded to show us what it costs to give a king’s
vessel the slip!”
Abel Grant burst into a hearty laugh, Seth Hartley joining him, and
I was puzzled to make out what those two could see in the situation
that should provoke mirth, until our “admiral” cried as soon as it was
possible to speak:
“So you think they would send a whale to catch a herrin’, eh, Ephraim
Lyttle? Verily you must think that the Minute Boys of Long Island are
of vast importance in the eyes of the king’s officers!” and again the
foolish fellow gave voice to his mirth.
“Then why is she headin’ directly for the sloop?” I asked angrily. “If
she holds her course much longer we shall find ourselves under her
stem!”
“Have you forgotten that the channel is on this side?” Abraham asked,
not laughingly, but as if he pitied me because of my ignorance.
“Besides, she’s minded to do our batteries all the harm possible, an’
therefore is pumpin’ shot into ’em at short range.”
I began dimly to realize that I had given my comrades due cause for
mirth, and to cover the confusion which began to creep over me, I asked
of Seth:
“Can you see any others of the fleet?”
“There are none in sight yet, as should be the case if they were
sailin’ in line of battle. I allow that this ship is alone; come to see
how much of mischief may be done while the Americans are supposed to be
in a bit of muddle over losin’ the battle.”
It did not seem to me possible that this could be the true explanation,
for I failed to figure how it might advantage the Britishers to send a
single ship where it really seemed that our people should be able to
sink her, and as if he read my thoughts, Seth added:
“It don’t stand to reason the field-pieces ashore can do her much in
the way of harm; but if she should get into serious trouble there are
enough other ships to come to her rescue.”
Even though there was so much of danger to us, and although I was
growing timorous as she advanced, it would have been impossible not to
have admired the magnificent spectacle of this enormous hulk sailing
slowly up the river, her larboard ports all aflame as the guns were
discharged, and the decks crowded with men who lined the rails as if to
show how insignificant they considered our efforts to do them an injury.
“Surely if one vessel can come here unharmed, it is only a question of
when the British admiral is ready to do the work, an’ then New York is
in the possession of the king’s forces,” Sam said mournfully, speaking
as if simply giving words to the thoughts in his mind, and Seth Hartley
replied, but with no ring of triumph.
“Ay, lad, he who could think otherwise would be short-sighted indeed,
an’ I’m of the opinion that already is your General Washington askin’
himself how he can best save his army.”
“Then the Cause is lost?” I cried, and Seth said as he laid his hand on
my shoulder:
“Ay, if we count New York as bein’ the only place in rebellion against
the king; but we in England have believed that the other colonies would
put up a stiffer fight than might be looked for here.”
“Then why have all the troops been sent here instead of elsewhere?”
Abraham asked, ducking his head very suddenly as a shot from the ship
came between him and the mainmast of the sloop.
“It don’t stand to reason that an ignorant marine like me should be
able to figure out the whys an’ wherefores, an’ yet we try now an’
then. While comin’ up from Halifax, knowin’ we was bein’ brought here
to put an end to what Englishmen call a rebellion, it stands to reason
that we tried to guess why we were bound for New York instead of
some other port, an’ this is much the way our sea lawyers worked the
traverse: This town will make a good startin’ point; a base of supplies
is needed for the army as well as the navy, an’ we came to believe that
this was the place picked out. But, even though the town is the same as
taken, nothin’ has been done towards bringin’ you to terms--the work is
hardly yet begun.”
“Surely we may be far in the dumps when a Britisher thinks it’s his
duty to give us a little cheer,” Abel Grant said with a laugh. “There’s
no doubt but that Seth is in the right, an’ even though the Minute Boys
of Long Island may not be able to do anythin’ on their own ground,
there’s plenty of room elsewhere in the colonies for them as believe in
the Cause.”
While we had thus been talking the big ship passed us, giving no heed
to the little Swiftsure, but sailing straight on up the river, and we
ceased to think of ourselves as we asked where she was bound. We could
trace her course by the flashes of fire while she was near our line of
defenses, and then all was still; whether the enemy had come to anchor,
or was yet moving, no one could say.
“I reckon we can turn in now,” Abel Grant said with a yawn as he
entered the cuddy after we had waited, listening, ten minutes or more
without hearing anything further from the enemy. “I don’t lay claim
to havin’ a head bigger’n them around me, but I’ll wager a couple of
clams that the ship counts on comin’ to anchor nearby so’s to help pen
our army up in the town till the fleet gets ready to scoop the whole
boilin’. It won’t work, though, for General Washington ain’t the kind
of a man to be found with both eyes shut at the same time.”
Then we turned in, to sleep as only tired people can until the rays
of the rising sun heated the cuddy so hot that we were forced to go
outside lest we be baked like a cake.
As a matter of course, the first thing we looked for was the ship
that had kicked up such a row in the night, and nearly frightened
me into showing myself a coward; but she was nowhere in sight. Abel
Grant hailed a fellow who was coming down the river in a skiff, and
learned from him that the Britisher had anchored in Turtle bay, where
everything had been made snug as if she counted on ending her days
there.
Before we were done speculating as to the meaning of such a settling
down, we heard that the whole British fleet had moved up off Governor’s
Island, within cannon-shot of the town, and this seemed to be an end of
the movement.
“They’re waitin’ till everythin’ is good an’ ready, after which we’ll
see ’em come inter town lookin’ for stray rebels,” Abel Grant said with
a grin, as if believing himself very witty. “’Cordin’ to the way I
figger things out, matters will hang as they are for quite a spell, an’
now’s the time when I can ’tend to a little business of my own.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked, when Abel ceased speaking as if his
story was told.
“Jest what I say. It strikes me that we ought’er know what’s happenin’
over on the island, an’ I’m goin’ to run across there this mornin’.”
“It’s a good idea!” I cried excitedly, for, if the truth must be
confessed, I had almost forgotten that the folks at home would be
anxious regarding us, and Sam began loosening the mainsail, when Abel
cried sharply:
“Now what’er you about?”
“Gettin’ under way. The wind will die out before noon, an’ it stands us
in hand to take advantage of this early breeze.”
“Did you think I was crazy enough to allow we could go there in the
sloop?”
“How else can you go?” I asked in surprise.
“With the Britishers in possession of the island, don’t it strike you
that the Tories will be mighty perky? How long after we came to anchor
in Wallabout before every bloomin’ one of that scurvy gang would be
puttin’ out to scoop us in as prisoners?”
I wasn’t so thick-headed but it was possible to understand that of all
dangerous places for us, our island was the worst, and I sat down in
the stern-sheets feeling mighty desolate, for it seemed just then as if
I had indeed lost my home.
“There’s no good reason why I shouldn’t be able to sneak ashore an’
find out what’s been done,” Abel said as he gathered up half a dozen
ship’s biscuit. “I’ll put across in the punt, an’ be back sometime in
the night, if nothin’ happens.”
He evidently believed we would try to prevent him from making the
venture, or, perhaps, insist on going with him, for even while speaking
he went over the rail into the small boat, and was a dozen yards or
more away before I gathered my wits sufficiently to cry out:
“Come back! I want to go with you!”
Abel shook his head, and Sam said in a decided tone:
“You can’t do anythin’ of the kind, Ephraim Lyttle. The venture is
risky enough for one, without makin’ it worse by doublin’ the chances.
I don’t believe he can go ashore without bein’ picked up by some Tory
who is burnin’ to do harm to a Whig without much danger to himself; but
how could we have stopped him?”
“Mother will think I am heedless of her, not to have come with him,” I
persisted, and Abraham replied:
“There isn’t one chance in a thousand that he’ll see any of our people.
Don’t you suppose they had sense enough to leave when it was known
that the American army had retreated?”
“But where could they go?”
“You know very well that I can’t answer the question; but it seems
certain to me they would have gone, an’ if he comes back with word of
havin’ seen them, you an’ I’ll make the venture as soon as may be.”
What could I say after that promise, save at the expense of proving
myself even a greater simple than I was willing to admit? We had
rebelled against the king, and must take whatever it was in his power
to deal out to us. That we ourselves were not prisoners was fortunate,
and crying over what couldn’t be cured wouldn’t mend matters.
We laid at anchor all day, making no attempt to go ashore, and hearing
nothing in the way of news that was particularly cheerful. Now and then
one man or another would pass nearby, either on shore or by water, and
we soon came to understand that it was generally believed General Howe
could come into New York whenever he felt so disposed.
Our troops were yet in town, apparently bent on holding it; but if the
ships of the British fleet once opened fire upon them, they could do
little or nothing save die at their posts.
During the afternoon Jethro Dyker pulled up the river in search of a
skiff that had been lost the night before, and came aboard for a chat,
telling us much that we already knew, and very little in the way of
real news.
“Father is makin’ ready to get out of town when the army leaves,” he
announced. “He says General Washington couldn’t hold New York if he had
twice as many men, an’ once the Britishers are here we Whigs will have
a hot time of it. What are you lads countin’ on doin’?”
That was exactly what we couldn’t tell him, and, receiving no answer,
he mapped out our plans as if believing we had been waiting for him to
say what we ought to do:
“You’ll take mighty good care to leave when the troops first begin to
move, that is, if there’s wind enough to fill your sails, an’ if there
ain’t, you’ll abandon the sloop, of course.”
“We’ll take a good many chances before doin’ that,” Abraham said
curtly, irritated because Jethro had taken it upon himself to tell us
what we should do. “We’ll hold on to the sloop quite a spell waitin’
for a wind, rather than give her up without a struggle.”
“Then you’ll show yourselves to be a crew of fools!” Jethro cried as
he went over the rail into his skiff. “What good will she do you while
you’re in prison, for that’s where all hands will be as soon as the
Tories can give information about you?”
“We’ll take some chances before showin’ the white feather,” Sam cried,
and Jethro rowed away in silence, as if leaving us to our fate in
punishment for being pig-headed.
We did not feel any more comfortable in mind after young Dyker had
gone, although never one of us would have allowed the others to fancy
he was at all disturbed, and, speaking now only for myself, it was with
a decided sense of relief that I saw the shadows of night begin to
lengthen.
In the distance we could see four vessels of the enemy’s fleet, lying
with guns trained on the town, and we knew that, hidden from view by
the island, the remainder of the vessels were ready to work death and
destruction at the bidding of that red-coated officer who represented
the king in North America.
“I don’t reckon we shall be any the worse off if we make the most of
what stores are aboard,” Sam said with an evident effort to speak in
a jovial tone. “I’m goin’ to cook the very best supper possible, an’
we’ll have it ready when Abel Grant gets here, for I fancy he’ll be
sharkish after his long pull an’ longer tramp.”
It was a decided relief to have something with which to occupy one’s
time, and all hands turned to with a will to help the cook, prolonging
the work as much as possible in order that the supper might not be
ready before Abel arrived.
Under more pleasant circumstances we would have considered the meal a
veritable feast, so plentiful and varied was it; but who can wonder
that we felt as if we no longer had homes, and were remaining near
our birthplace only by sufferance of those whom we knew to be deadly
enemies? Even Seth Hartley appeared ill at ease, and thinking that
possibly he might be regretting having cast in his lot with ours when
everything was so dark and threatening, I taxed him with having such
thoughts, whereupon he said, speaking so heartily that I could not have
doubted him even had I been so disposed:
“I am givin’ no heed to myself, lad. It was not with the belief you
would win a speedy victory that I much the same as turned deserter, for
I knew beyond a reasonable doubt there must be many dark days. It is
because you lads, whom I have come to consider as very good friends,
are in such distress of mind while I am unable to say or do anythin’
that may give relief. My father an’ mother are both dead, but I can
come somewhere near guessin’ how I’d feel if knowin’, as you do, that
they’d been turned out of house an’ home.”
I shook his hand heartily; it was all I could do, for had I trusted
myself to speak at that moment the tears must have come first, and what
kind of a figure would the commander of Minute Boys cut if he blubbered
like any baby?
Well, we made ready the feast, and although it was nearly nine o’clock
in the evening before Sam was willing to admit that his work was done,
Abel still remained absent.
“He has found friends with whom he lingered,” Seth Hartley said,
striving to speak cheerily. “Like enough he has never fancied that you
might be anxious if he remained away so late.”
We waited another hour without hearing anything from our “admiral,” and
then at Abraham’s suggestion we went through the motions of eating; but
if the other fellows came as near being choked by the food as did I,
the feast was anything rather than a success.
We nibbled at this or that until time enough had been spent to make it
appear as if we were having a happy evening of it, and then all hands
set about clearing up the cuddy, after which I suggested that we turn
in, leaving one on deck to stand watch, though why there was need for
such precaution I could not have explained.
“Who shall stand the first watch?” Sam asked.
“I’ll take the first trick,” was my reply, whereupon both Sam and Abe
declared that they had no desire for sleep just then.
Therefore it was that all hands remained in the cockpit, straining
their ears for the first sound of a paddle from the direction of the
opposite shore, but hearing nothing throughout all the long hours of
darkness.
When day dawned we searched with our eyes for the punt. There were
two or three small craft moving about, but none resembling the one we
were so eager to see, and until the sun rose we remained silent and
motionless gazing over the water, when Abraham said abruptly:
“It would be foolish for us to shut our eyes to what we know must
be the facts. Abel Grant would never have risked putting off from
Wallabout bay in the daylight, an’ because of his not comin’ we know he
has been made a prisoner.”
No one replied to this. All of us had the same thought, but had not
dared to put it in words.
“I’m goin’ to hunt for him,” Abraham said slowly and deliberately,
after a long time of silence. “No, no, not till night,” he added,
seeing that Sam was about to make some objections. “I’m not quite such
a fool as to put off before dark; but when the sun sets I shall start,
forcin’ Jethro Dyker to lend me a skiff. Abel is our comrade, an’ we
cannot stay here idle knowin’ he is in trouble.”
“I shall go with you!” I cried, and Sam echoed my words, whereupon,
much to my surprise, Seth Hartley asked:
“Why not all go? You would be foolish to make a try at followin’ on his
trail, for those who picked him up would serve you in the same way;
but, now that the fleet is close up here, why wouldn’t it be possible,
with a good wind, to sail past them in the night, an’ begin your
search from some other part of the island?”
It was a right bold plan, one smacking of great peril; but in the mood
we then were danger was welcome, although we did not admit as much to
each other as we stood staring across the waters in silence.