REVOLUTIONARY WAR (_continued_).
The struggle between Great Britain and her colonies was watched with
great anxiety by Spain, who, having herself a colonial empire, dreaded
the effect of example. Spain offered herself as mediator in the quarrel,
and was accepted as such, though nothing was effected thereby; not even
the terms of mediation being agreed upon. Various considerations,
however, inclined her now to favour the cause of the Americans, although
she did not acknowledge their independence. She was desirous of
recovering Gibraltar, the loss of which had so deeply humiliated her
national pride, besides Jamaica and the two Floridas, with a territory
on the east bank of the Mississippi, which latter she hoped to obtain
through the gratitude of America. She declared war, therefore, against
Great Britain, and, in conjunction with France, a formidable armament
appeared on the English coast—a second armada, to be dispersed like the
former one by tempest, and desolated by disease as pitiless as war
itself, upwards of 5,000 soldiers dying in their ships within a very few
weeks.
While Spain was assuming the character of mediator between the two
contending parties, there had been so little good faith on her part,
that the Spanish governors and commanders in the West Indies and America
were aware of the intended declaration of war before it was made known
in Europe. The infant settlements of Louisiana were as yet attached to
those of West Florida, and though, as we have already said, they had
submitted to the Americans in the preceding year, the submission had
been but temporary, and British troops had been since then stationed
there to preserve their allegiance. The moment, therefore, that Don
Bernando de Galvez, the Spanish governor of Louisiana, heard of the
declaration of war with Great Britain, he proclaimed the independence of
America by beat of drum, and having already assembled his forces,
consisting of Spanish regulars, American volunteers and negroes, at New
Orleans, set out on an expedition against the British settlements on the
Mississippi. So well had he laid all his plans, that Major-General
Campbell, who commanded at Pensacola, was not aware of danger even
threatening the western part of that province, until the Spaniard was in
possession of it. With the same address and expedition he succeeded in
taking a royal sloop which was stationed on Lake Pontchartrain, as well
as several vessels laden with provisions and necessaries for the British
troops. In this manner were Baton Rouge and Fort Panmure, near Natchez,
taken, and a few months later Mobile; and for the honour of the Spanish
general it must be told that, in all his successes, his conduct was
marked by good faith, humanity and kindness. By the end of the year
1779, Pensacola was the only post of West Florida remaining to the
British.
In the meantime, events of some importance had been occurring in the
West Indies. The island of Dominica had already been taken from the
British by an expedition from Martinique, when the English and French
fleets, which respectively sailed from Boston and New York on the same
day, reached the West Indies. The British fleet first arriving,
proceeded immediately against St. Lucie, which was taken, spite of
D’Estaing’s attempt to retain it. On its surrender, the French fleet
retired to the harbour of Port Royal in Martinique. The fleets of the
French and English were about equal, and the latter used every means in
their power to bring about a naval engagement; but D’Estaing was not to
be provoked to action. His imperturbability was unaccountable, excepting
that he was in daily expectation of reinforcements. Reinforcements came,
but not alone for the French—Admiral Rowley joined the British squadron
about the same time, with several ships of war. The noxious climate of
St. Lucie, however, having caused a terrible mortality in the British
troops, Admiral Byron left the island to convoy a numerous fleet of
merchantmen to England, and D’Estaing sent out a detachment against St.
Vincent’s, which was surrendered at once without a shot being fired.
Large reinforcements again arrived from France, and D’Estaing, now
willing enough for action, proceeded against the island of Granada, with
a fleet of six-and-twenty ships of the line, with frigates, and 10,000
land forces. The whole defence of the island was less than 1,000 men,
and its sole strength consisted in a fortified hill, which commanded the
capital, St. George, its forts and harbour. The island had just
surrendered after a bloody defence, when Byron returned, and hearing of
the loss of St. Vincent’s and the attack on Granada, proceeded at once
to the latter place, though his fleet was now considerably weakened by
the convoy he had sent to England. To his disappointment, the French
flag was flying on the fort as he came within sight of the island. An
engagement however took place, but of an indecisive character, and the
English fleet, greatly damaged, retired to St. Christopher’s to repair.
Soon after these events D’Estaing, leaving the West Indies, proceeded to
the coast of Georgia with twenty-two ships of the line. The strong
position which the British forces had so easily gained in Georgia and
South Carolina, was not only distressing in its present effect, but
alarming with regard to its probable consequences in the American
struggle. The scene of action was almost out of the reach of the main
army and the seat of council, while the British marine force afforded
decided advantages to their troops in a country bordered by the sea, and
chequered with inland navigation. To all appearances the subjugation of
the Southern States was almost complete. The most serious apprehension
prevailed, and it was determined to bring, if possible, the French fleet
into useful operation. As yet America had derived no essential service
from her French allies. The attempt on Rhode Island had been productive
of expense, danger, and loss, without the slightest benefit. The
mischief and inconvenience to the southern provinces had been permitted
without the slightest interference. As regarded the whole conduct of the
French commander, the Americans had the utmost cause for
dissatisfaction; they had supplied and equipped his fleet at Boston,
only to enable him to abandon their southern coasts at the moment of
their greatest danger, and when the seizure of Savannah and Georgia
opened the whole Carolinas to the British. Finally, the Americans
complained that while the French were enriching themselves in the West
Indies, they were left to bear all the burden of the war, contrary to
the stipulations of the treaty. The Americans complained bitterly.
Immediately, therefore, after the action before Granada, and in
consequence of this dissatisfaction, D’Estaing received orders from home
to render some essential service to his allies. He was firstly commanded
to free the southern colonies from their present danger, by the
destruction of the small force under Prevost; and secondly, to
co-operate with Washington in a simultaneous attack by land and water on
New York.
At the end of August, D’Estaing stood for the coast of Georgia with
twenty-two ships of the line, and news being sent to General Lincoln at
Charleston of his approach, no time was lost in preparing for an attack
on Savannah. As if in good augury of their success, the French fleet, by
its sudden appearance on the coast, surprised and captured some British
vessels, laden with provisions. Lincoln, in the meantime, reinforced by
several North Carolina regiments, despatched by Washington to the south,
and by the militia, which marched out in great numbers, hastened to
Savannah, which, greatly to the surprise and displeasure of the American
general, D’Estaing had summoned to surrender “to his most Christian
Majesty of France.”
Prevost, on the first rumour of the danger which awaited him, summoned
to Savannah the greater part of the British forces from Port Royal and
other places; and removing the shipping higher up the river, destroyed
the batteries on the island of Tybee, and put the city in a rapid state
of defence. In reply to D’Estaing’s summons of surrender, Prevost, whose
expected reinforcements had not yet arrived, requested a suspension of
hostilities for four-and-twenty hours, to which D’Estaing agreed, who
not having, as yet, formed a junction with the American forces under
Lincoln, knew not the importance and necessity of an immediate attack.
Within the four-and twenty hours the reinforcements arrived. Three
cheers, which rung from one end of the town to the other, welcomed them,
and Prevost notified D’Estaing the following day that he would defend
the place.
Pulaski with his legion, and Lincoln with 3,000 men, proceeded to
besiege the town, with regular approaches. On the 24th of September the
siege commenced; D’Estaing grew impatient of these operations, and at
midnight, between the 3rd and 4th of October, a heavy bombardment, which
lasted for five days, was commenced. The effect of this fell mostly upon
the town, where, besides the destruction of houses and people, women,
children and negroes were the greatest sufferers. Prevost, touched by
the sufferings of these defenceless people, whose distress and danger
were increased by the number of burning houses, wrote a letter to
D’Estaing, requesting permission to send them down the river in vessels
intrusted to the care of the French, there to await the result of the
siege, acquainting him that his own wife and family should be the first
to profit by this permission. For three hours the discharge of cannon
and shells was continued, and then a refusal, signed both by Lincoln and
D’Estaing, was returned.
The siege promised to be tedious, and D’Estaing’s patience was worn out.
The obstructions in the narrow part of the channel prevented his fleet
from approaching the shore; and he now became afraid that one of those
hurricanes common to this season might drive it out to sea, or it might
be attacked by the British while so many of his guns and troops were
otherwise employed. Full of impatient fears, he insisted upon the town
being carried by assault; and on the 9th of October, two columns, the
picked men of both armies, were led to the assault by D’Estaing and
Lincoln. It was a fatal step; by a strange mistake, the attack that was
to be made at four in the morning was delayed till broad daylight; and
the garrison directed their guns with fatal aim upon the advancing
assailants. Some of the outer works were taken, but the most fearful
carnage marked every step. At length, Pulaski, at the head of his
legion, was mortally wounded, and the Americans fled; D’Estaing received
two wounds, and the French were repulsed with great slaughter.
The loss of the French and the Americans was about 1,100, that of the
British only fifty-five. On the 18th the siege was raised, and
D’Estaing, as soon as he could re-embark his troops, set sail for the
West Indies. Lincoln returned to Charleston, and the militia were
disbanded. It was the most disastrous attempt which had been made during
the war. This second failure at co-operation with the French caused
still greater dissatisfaction.
Among others who fell at Savannah was that Sergeant Jasper who had
distinguished himself so gallantly in the defence of Fort Moultrie, on
Sullivan’s Island, in 1776. Moultrie’s regiment had been presented with
a stand of colours, by a Mrs. Elliot, embroidered by her own hands; and
Jasper, as a reward of his own individual merit, had received a handsome
sword from Governor Rutledge. During the assault of Savannah, two
officers having been killed in endeavouring to plant these colours, and
a third wounded, Jasper seized them and was in the act of planting them,
when he too fell mortally wounded. Pulaski, severely wounded, was
carried on board a vessel for Charleston, but he died on the way, and
was buried beneath the waves. Funeral rites were performed at
Charleston, and all America mourned for him who had been one of the
truest and bravest supporters of her cause.
The appearance of D’Estaing on the southern coast suspended all active
operations at New York, in the apprehension of a formidable concerted
attack by sea and land, from the combined French and American forces.
Washington also, on his part, expected this co-operation, and had
prepared himself for it by calling out the militia of the northern
provinces; it being supposed by all parties that Savannah would soon
surrender, and D’Estaing then proceed northward. Clinton took active
measures for the strengthening of New York, and so momentous was the
crisis considered, that the troops were withdrawn from Newport, in Rhode
Island, as well as from Verplank’s and Stony Points, all of which were
thus again suffered to fall into the hands of the Americans. When,
however, it was clearly ascertained that D’Estaing was gone, Sir Henry
Clinton, relieved from any apprehension regarding the north, set sail
for Savannah with 7,000 troops, 2,000 of whom were American loyalists,
while the same number remained behind under Kniphausen, who held New
York with a powerful garrison. The militia of the northern provinces was
disbanded; and Washington, anxious for the future, and disappointed and
disgusted by the conduct of his allies, went into winter-quarters near
Morristown.
Although the American efforts at naval warfare were now considerably
diminished, owing to the increased vigilance of the British squadron,
and to want of funds on the part of the colonies; still many armed
vessels, both public and private, were on the seas, and a considerable
amount of the French loan was employed in the fitting out of cruisers in
the French ports.
It was in the autumn of this year that the renowned sea-fight took
place, which made the name of Paul Jones one of terror in the British
seas. Paul Jones was a native of Scotland, who emigrated to America,
made money and in 1773 settled in Virginia. On the breaking out of the
war, he was one of the first officers commissioned in the American navy.
He cruised in the West Indies, picked up many prizes, and showed on all
occasions great boldness and address. In 1777 he was sent to France, and
there appointed to the command of a French ship under American colours.
The next year, cruising on the coast of Great Britain, from the Land’s
End to Solway Frith, where as yet the American flag had never ventured,
he made a descent on the Scotch coast near Kirkcudbright, and plundered
the house of the Earl of Selkirk, where, tradition says, he had once
lived as servant, and a second by night on the Cumberland coast, at
Whitehaven, where he spiked the guns in the fort, and burned one or two
vessels. For a whole summer he kept the north-western coast of England
and the southern coast of Scotland in a continual state of alarm, and
made his name one of terror. The next year he returned to cruise on the
eastern coast, no longer with a single ship, but a squadron, manned by
French and Americans. This squadron consisted of the Bonhomme Richard,
of forty guns, which he himself commanded, the Alliance of thirty-six,
the Pallas, a frigate of thirty-two, and two other smaller vessels.
Cruising with these ships, he fell in with a British merchant-fleet, on
its return from the Baltic, under convoy of Captain Pearson, with the
Serapis, of forty-four guns, and a smaller frigate; and one of the most
desperate naval engagements on record took place off Flamborough Head.
About seven o’clock in the evening, Paul Jones in the Bonhomme Richard,
engaged Captain Pearson in the Serapis, the ships advancing nearer and
nearer, until at length they dropped alongside of each other, head and
stern, and so close that the muzzles of the guns grated. In this close
contact the action continued with the greatest fury till half-past ten,
during which time, Jones, who had the greater number of men, vainly
attempted to board, and the Serapis was set on fire ten or twelve times.
Every time the fire was extinguished, till at length, a cartridge of
powder taking fire, a great number of officers and men were killed.
After a desperate and last attempt to board Paul Jones, Captain Pearson
hauled down his colours, two-thirds of his men being killed or wounded,
and his main-mast gone by the board. The Bonhomme Richard was in little
better condition, for, to add to her misfortunes, the Alliance coming up
in the darkness and confusion of the night, and mistaking her for the
enemy, had fired a broadside into her, not discovering his error till
the glare of the burning Serapis had revealed it. The next day, Paul
Jones was obliged to quit his ship, and she sank at sea almost
immediately, with, it is said, great numbers of the wounded on board. Of
the 375 men whom she carried, 300 were killed or wounded. The Pallas
captured the Countess of Scarborough, and Jones, on the 6th of October,
succeeded in carrying his shattered vessels into the waters of the
Texel.[28]
The gloom which overspread the public mind at the close of this year had
its origin in many causes, not the least of which was the disappointment
arising from the French alliance. Not alone had the French been useless
to the republican cause, as far as their own efforts went, but this
alliance with a powerful nation, from which such great advantages were
expected, had disposed a considerable portion of the American public to
sink into an apathetic state, waiting, as it were, for others to do the
work; and now that the others had not done it, they were depressed and
almost hopeless of the cause itself. This despondency and apathy alarmed
the earnest patriots, and Washington and the other leaders called upon
the nation in the most earnest and solemn manner to rouse from their
lethargy, and trust neither to chance nor to strangers, but to their own
exertions for the establishment of their rights. There was but little
response to the appeal; the very army itself seemed affected by the
lethargic torpor of the public mind.[29]
Another cause of anxiety and distress we have already alluded to. This
was the depreciation of the paper currency. At the close of this year a
dollar in specie could scarcely be obtained for forty in bills. But the
very paper was fluctuating in value. Hence a set of men arose, who,
speculating on this currency, amassed immense wealth, while honest men
and the nation itself were reduced to beggary. One cause of the
depreciation of the American paper at this time, was the disgraceful
fact that England herself turned forger, and sent over immense
quantities of spurious hills, so well imitated as scarcely to be
distinguished from the true, and which her emissaries distributed
through the country, causing the utmost distress and confusion, and the
recall of several issues of American paper.
Very different was the state of things in England. Spite of her having
to carry on war at this time both with France and Spain, and though
several of the European nations joined in an “armed neutrality” against
her, renewed exertions were made at the close of this year for
prosecuting the war with the colonies. Eighty-five thousand marines, and
35,000 troops, in addition to those already engaged, were voted by
parliament for the following year, together with the enormous sum of
five millions for carrying out this service.
Admiral Arbuthnot had been sent from England in the spring with
reinforcements, but did not arrive at New York till August. In December,
his fleet conveyed Sir Henry Clinton and his 7,000 troops to the south,
and after a tempestuous voyage, landed them at Tybee Island in Savannah
harbour, on the last day of January, 1780.
The winter of 1780 was extremely severe; the Hudson and the harbour of
New York were frozen over. The garrison and the inhabitants, cut off
from their usual supplies by water, suffered extremely from the great
scarcity of fuel and fresh provisions. In the expectation that
Washington might cross the ice for a general attack, the whole
population was put under arms, and the so-called “Board of Associated
Loyalists” formed for the defence of the city. But Washington was in no
condition to undertake such an enterprise. His entire force did not
exceed 10,000 men—a smaller number than composed the garrison of New
York; many were militia, whose term of enlistment was expiring; and
though congress had called upon the states to send in their quotas, so
as to form an army of 35,000 men, this was not done. Recruits could only
be obtained on increased bounties, which caused great dissatisfaction to
the old soldiers enlisted for the war. Indeed, as regarded the whole
state of the American army, nothing could be more discouraging. In a
report sent to congress this spring, it was said, “the army was five
months unpaid; it seldom had more than six days’ provision in advance,
and was on several occasions, for sundry successive days, without meat;
it was destitute of forage; the medical department had neither sugar,
tea, chocolate, wine, nor spirits; every department was without money or
even the shadow of credit.”[30]
Such was the gloomy prospect in the North; in the South it was even
worse. As soon as the transports, which had suffered severely in the
voyage, were refitted at Savannah, Sir Henry Clinton embarked, and
proceeding to Charleston, landed his troops on St. John’s island, and
afterwards took possession of St. James’s, the same islands, lying at
the mouth of Charleston harbour, which we have already mentioned in
General Prevost’s expedition. The intention being to blockade the town,
the British army gradually advanced through the islands to the mainland.
Several weeks were spent in this occupation, and Lincoln employed the
same time in strengthening and completing the fortifications. Governor
Rutledge was invested with dictatorial powers, and slaves were impressed
to labour at the works. The neighbouring militia was called upon, but
the call was not obeyed, the plea being that no man dared to leave his
home, fearing an insurrection of the negroes, and their desertion to the
enemy. In this emergency it was earnestly recommended by some to raise
2,000 negro troops, to be purchased at a certain price from their
owners, and emancipated when the war was over. But this plan was not
agreed to, though it may be mentioned here that many negroes served in
the war of the southern states, with great credit as soldiers, and
received their freedom in consequence.
The British operations before Charleston were rapid and successful; the
success both at Savannah and Charleston being attributed in great
measure to the skill of the British engineer Moncrief. General Lincoln
depended upon four American and two French frigates for the defence of
the harbour; but in defiance of these, the English ships crossed the
bar, and entered the harbour without loss or difficulty. To prevent the
enemy from ascending Cooper’s River, between which and the Ashley River
Charleston stands, a number of merchant vessels now useless were sunk.
Taking, however, advantage of wind and water, the British admiral having
overcome these obstacles, passed with but trifling loss the heavy
batteries of Fort Moultrie on Sullivan’s Island, which had already
become so celebrated for the obstinate and successful defence made
against the attack of Sir Peter Parker. As yet the communication with
the country north of Cooper’s River was kept open by two regiments of
horse, stationed about twenty miles above Charleston. These, however,
were surprised, dispersed and partly cut to pieces by a detachment of
British cavalry, led by the enterprising Colonel Tarleton, and supported
by light infantry under Major Ferguson. By these means the passes of
Cooper’s River were in the hands of the British, and the only road for
retreat was closed, and shortly afterwards, a large reinforcement
arriving from New York, the collected remains of the cavalry were again
attacked, and again defeated by Tarleton. The whole country north of
Cooper’s River was now occupied by the British, and the investment of
the town was complete. Step by step the defences of Charleston had given
way. On the very day that the cavalry were defeated, Fort Moultrie,
threatened both by land and sea, surrendered. The inhabitants losing all
hope and courage, proposed to abandon the town, but Lincoln would only
consent to capitulation. On the 7th of May, therefore, he opened a
correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton; but the terms which he proposed
were rejected, as higher than a commander in his condition had a right
to ask. Hostilities again commenced; the British pushed their operations
vigorously; one outwork after another was gained; they had advanced to
the very ditch of the town. A new negotiation was opened, and the town
surrendered upon the terms which were then offered, and which were
considered favourable, the British commanders declaring themselves
wishful to conciliate by clemency. On May 12th, the garrison marched out
with cased colours and silent drums, surrendering their arms as
prisoners of war. The continental troops and seamen were allowed to keep
their baggage but were to remain prisoners of war until exchanged; the
militia were dismissed on parole, not to serve again in the war. The
British report states that seven general officers, ten continental
regiments and three battalions of artillery, became prisoners on this
occasion. The whole number of men in arms who were taken, exclusive of
1,000 seamen, amounted to 5,611. More than 400 pieces of artillery were
also lost to the Americans, besides four frigates.
The lieutenant-governor and five of the council were included in the
capitulation, but Governor Rutledge and the three other councillors had
left the city before the investment was completed.
A series of rapid successes followed. Three expeditions were immediately
sent out—one towards the Savannah River; another seized an important
post called Ninety-Six, 150 miles from Charleston; and a third scoured
the country between the Cooper and the Santee Rivers. The object of this
last expedition, under Lord Cornwallis, was to defeat a body of troops
under Colonel Burford, on its march to Charleston. Burford, on receiving
tidings of the surrender of the town, retreated rapidly up the
north-east bank of the Santee, but Tarleton in pursuit moved more
rapidly than he did. By a forced march of 105 miles in fifty-four hours,
he came up with him at Waxhaws, on the frontier of North Carolina, took
his troops by surprise, attacked and completely defeated them, granting
no quarter; and “Tarleton’s quarter,” in memory of the merciless
slaughter of this day, has become a Carolina proverb. Burford and a very
few only escaped, while the British lost but eighteen. The celerity of
British conquest, the rapid speed of the cruel Tarleton, who seemed to
possess a terrible ubiquity, spread a panic fear through the South. The
patriots fled, and the great mass of the inhabitants rushed to meet the
royal troops and offer their allegiance to the British crown. The
reduction of South Carolina seemed so complete, that Sir Henry Clinton
wrote to England that there were few men in the province who were not
prisoners to, or in arms with, the British forces. “South Carolina is
English again,” said he, in his exultation.
The conquest of South Carolina thus accomplished, and the hot weather
coming on, Sir Henry Clinton began to make arrangements for his return
to New York, leaving Lord Cornwallis with 4,000 troops to hold and
extend his conquests. Before this was done, however, the royal
government was established and a mode of settling the affairs of this
province adopted which had long been recommended in England to the
British commanders in America. This was by establishing such an internal
force in each subjugated province as should in a great measure secure
its defence and allegiance, and suppress every tendency to rebellion.
Accordingly, proclamations were issued promising full pardon to all who
would immediately return to their duty as British subjects. But no
neutrals were to be allowed; every man who admitted himself to be a
British subject must take up arms in support of the British government.
All must be in readiness with their arms at a moment’s notice; they who
had families must form a militia for home defence; they who had none
must serve in the royal forces any six months in the ensuing twelve.
Thus were citizens armed against citizens, and the members of a family
one against another. The worst miseries of civil war were introduced;
and this was to be done, said the proclamation, “to drive out the rebel
oppressors and all the miseries of war from the province.”
This system of intercolonial subjugation was expected to work so
efficiently, that Sir Henry Clinton returned to New York, fully
believing that a few months would complete the subjection of the whole
South, at least. So certain was the British commander of the success of
his plans, that before leaving Charleston he sent to bid the loyalists
of North Carolina to gather in their crops and keep quiet till autumn,
when the British army would march to their assistance.
While these events had been occurring in the South, the American
prospects in the North were by no means flattering. The Honourable Board
of Associated Loyalists, as they called themselves, organised at New
York, possessed at this time, among other means of annoyance to their
countrymen, a considerable fleet of small privateers and cruisers, which
did great damage. Their enterprises are described as being bold and
successful, their intimate knowledge of the coasts, creeks and villages
giving them great advantage in their predatory excursions. Many outrages
and excesses were committed; party-spirit and private hatred finding
here occasions of ample revenge, which was retorted whenever opportunity
occurred. In this manner the adjoining coasts of the continent,
especially the nearer parts of the Jerseys, became scenes of havoc and
waste.[31]
A few days previous to the return of Sir Henry Clinton, Generals
Kniphausen and Tryon, with 5,000 men, passed over by night from Staten
Island to Elizabeth Town in New Jersey, being desirous of bringing
Washington from his strong position at Morristown; and the next day
marched through a fertile region, scattered parties of the country’s
militia firing upon them wherever cover of any kind enabled them to lie
concealed. As a little incident of the march, it may be mentioned that
they burned a pleasant, peaceful settlement called the Connecticut
Farms, with its little Presbyterian meeting-house; and shot, through the
window of her house, the wife of the minister, who sat there clustered
with her children. This cold-blooded action, like the Indian murder of
Jenny M‘Crea, excited the utmost indignation, and greatly increased the
hatred which was felt towards the British in those parts.
From Connecticut Farms the army advanced to Springfield, where the
American general Maxwell, with the Jersey militia, was strongly posted,
on finding which, after a little skirmishing and burning a few houses,
the British retired towards Elizabeth Town, being vigorously pursued all
the way. On the arrival of Sir Henry Clinton, with his troops from
Charleston, the attack on Springfield was again determined upon, and
such movements took place among the shipping and such preparations were
made, as led Washington to suppose that the strong posts of the
Highlands were about to be attacked. Accordingly he marched a
considerable number of his troops in that direction, and again the
British general hoped that Washington might be seduced from his
impregnable camp. In the meantime General Greene, with Stark’s and the
Jersey militia, were stationed at Springfield, which lay at the foot of
those very hills and defiles which constituted the strength of the
country. A column of 6,000 men marched upon Springfield, and a sharp
action took place, not less than a hundred were killed on either side,
and the village was set on fire. The sight of the flames, it is said,
kindled New Jersey. The old spirit of the early days of the revolution
was once more awoke. The British were pursued with such vigour that,
passing rapidly through Elizabeth Town, they were glad to take refuge in
Staten Island.