Meanwhile, in the Delaware Bay, the fleet met up with HMS Roebuck, the forty-four-gun frigate that had been patrolling the bay and gathering intelligence. Capt. Andrew Snape Hamond, the ship's thirty-nine-year-old commander, went to Lord Howe's flagship, HMS Eagle, at 10 A.M. on July 30 and was mortified to discover that General Howe was still in bed.122 When finally called into the admiral's cabin, Hamond described the meeting as “a consultation between the Admiral & the General.” The general wanted to know where Washington's army was; Hamond told him that Washington had crossed the Delaware and was marching to Wilmington. Where the captain acquired this information is unclear, but he may have surmised it based on sketchy reports. While the Continentals were in fact heading south, most of them were in New Jersey at that moment, and Washington, who was still at Coryell's Ferry that day, nearly seventy miles from Wilmington and almost twice that distance from the Roebuck, did not arrive in Philadelphia until the evening of July 31, more than thirty hours later.
From intelligence gathered by the Roebuck, the Howe brothers were updated on the state of the Delaware River defenses just below Philadelphia. Obstructions called chevaux-de-frise (“Frisian horses”), great squared timbers tipped with large iron spikes and mounted in stone-filled log cribs, were built by the rebels and sunk in the riverbed, pointing downstream. They were covered by the guns of Mud Fort, or Fort Mifflin, on the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware, and Red Bank Fort, now called Fort Mercer, on the New Jersey side. Additionally, another earthwork was under construction downstream at Billingsport, New Jersey. Numerous fire ships and fire rafts had been prepared, and the small warships of the Pennsylvania Navy cruised the river.
Hamond later asserted that he had argued in favor of moving the fleet up the river and landing somewhere below New Castle, using the men-of-war as a screen against attacks by the smaller American vessels. He was incredulous that General Howe was strongly in favor of sailing to the Chesapeake, confirming Galloway's report to the House of Commons that the general had planned to go that way all along. Hamond revealed that Lord Howe “in confidence told me ‘that the General's wishe and intention were first to destroy the magazines at York & Carlisle before he attacked the Rebel Army or looked towards Philadelphia; and therefore it was of course a great object to get to the westward of the Enemy.’” Hamond claimed that “in vain he pleaded against ‘the great length of time it would take to make such a detour with so large a fleet, contrasted with the immediate opportunity of getting the whole army ashore in 24 hours,’” but his arguments went unheeded; “the General seemed resolved, and the Admiral would not oppose him.” Thus on the morning of July 31, “to the astonishment of both Fleet and Army, the signal was made to turn away, and steer for the Capes of Virginia.”123
Lord Howe's secretary, Ambrose Serle, was flabbergasted. “The Hearts of all Men were struck with this Business, every one apprehending the worst,” he wrote with dismay. “O quantâ‚ de spe! is the universal Cry; and without the Loss or Risque of a Battel.” Agonized, he confided to his diary, “What will my dear Country think & say too, when this News is carried Home? Horreo.”124 Lt. Heinrich von Feilitzsch of the Anspach Jägers groaned, “No one any longer knew where we were bound. Everyone said something different and everyone had to leave the decision to General Howe.”125 From the Aolus, Sir George Osborn told his brother John, “When we came off the mouth of the Delaware we made a movement of the fleet as if we intended sailing up the river, but at night (mais pour quelle raison j'ignore) [“but for what reason I am ignorant”] we made off from land and are now destined for the Chesapeakes.”126
Unaware of Howe's new move, Washington the next day went down to Chester, sixteen miles below Philadelphia, where he “had proceeded thus far in order to look out for a proper place to arrange the Army.”127 With the headquarters staff was a newly appointed major general with important connections in Europe, whose professional career would help shape significant events on two continents over the next sixty years. Nineteen-year-old Marie-Joseph Paul Roche Yves, Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, was here on his very first day of active service, August 1, 1777.
He was not supposed to have left France. “La Fayette's project surprized me very much,” Captain Fitzpatrick of the Guards had written on July 8. “I should have not been at all so, if his Cousin the Vicomte de Noailles had done it.” The young British Whig had become close friends with Lafayette, first in Paris several months earlier while on a visit there with Charles James Fox, then in London in the spring of 1777, when Lafayette visited the British capital right before Fitzpatrick left for active service. He was under the impression that Lafayette had been stopped from coming to America; “for his own sake I am not sorry he was prevented, for I think he would not have found it the kind of Army or the kind of service that he probably expected,” Fitzpatrick mused, “though I suppose Washington would have treated him with the greatest distinction.”128
After a long, difficult trip and a chilly reception by Congress, the young French aristocrat was presented with a purple shoulder sash signifying the rank of major general, “in consideration of his name, his great connections, and the sacrifices he had made through his love for liberty,” with the understanding that he would not command a division of troops or receive pay. He was first introduced to Washington at the City Tavern, “who paid him a thousand compliments, and persuaded him to establish his headquarters in his household and dine at his table for the whole campaign,” according to the Chevalier Dubuysson, one of several French officers who had accompanied Lafayette. All of Lafayette's companions had hoped to receive commissions but were disappointed. “In short, he was so dazzled that he forgot us for a moment,” Dubuysson added bitterly. “But I must do him justice, he has too good a heart to allow his forgetfulness to last very long. He did his utmost to obtain positions for us, but in vain, as he has no influence.”129 The following morning, Lafayette found himself inspecting the river defenses with the commander in chief, while the others had to shift for themselves.
Washington consulted several of his top commanders, especially those who were from the local area, including Mifflin, Wayne, and Joseph Reed of Pennsylvania, his former adjutant general, who knew the area well. He asked their opinions on where to place the army to defend the city. Suggestions were put forth to entrench the heights between Ridley and Crum Creeks or fortify Darby Creek, all above Chester.
Then, around 7 P.M., John Hunn's fifth message arrived in Philadelphia from Cape May with the startling news that the previous morning, “the fleet stood off, steering E.N.E. & are now out of sight, and have been so these three hours.” In landmen's terms, the British fleet had turned around and appeared headed back in the direction from which it had come. “This morning I was with many others of opinion they were bound up the Delaware,” Hunn informed them, “but as they could have got in this morning and did not, I am now of opinion they are making a feint.” His sea captain's expertise added a deduction that electrified the president of Congress and the commander in chief of the U.S. Army: “If so, they have a fresh wind at S. S. W which will carry them to the Eastward [New York or New England] very fast…. I believe their whole fleet was in sight, tho’ I could count only one hundred & ninety sail.” He concluded with the pledge, “I shall send off an Express if the fleet appears, if not I shall come up myself in a few days.”130
Hancock quickly forwarded the message to Chester, where it arrived about 9 P.M. Washington had spent an exhausting day reconnoitering both sides of the river, having left Philadelphia early in the morning and proceeding as far south as Wilmington.131 Now, candles would burn late into the night to deal with this new crisis.
With his army spread out nearly 200 miles from the Schuylkill to the Peekskill, Washington immediately dashed off a flurry of instructions to his commanders, ordering them to halt or reverse their marches. At 9:30 P.M., he wrote to Sullivan; at 10, he wrote to Gen. Alexander McDougall, whose New Englanders had been ordered to march south from Peekskill: “By an Exp
ress this Moment arrived from Cape May, The Enemy's fleet left the Capes Yesterday Morning at Eight Oclock—put to Sea and were out of sight Three Hours when the Express came away.” Similar letters to other commanders were dispatched immediately.
Washington feared the worst—that Howe had lured him away from the Hudson and was now sailing north—so he now ordered McDougall to take all available troops to that area “to prevent the Enemy from effecting a Coup de Main against that post.”132 He told Nathanael Greene, “This unexpected event makes it necessary to reverse our disposition and I have accordingly sent orders to Sullivan's division and the two other brigades on the other side the Delaware to return and recross the North River.”133
Because of contrary winds and tides rather than any deliberate maneuver on the part of the Howes, the fleet reappeared in the bay and just as quickly disappeared for good. “Today, no less than yesterday, the Admiral changed our course several times,” von Münchhausen commented on August 2, “and it was difficult to tell where we were heading.”134
The news only added to the tension and confusion in Philadelphia. Henry Fisher wrote from Lewes at 8 A.M. on August 2, “Just before sun set [on the thirty-first] we were alarmed from the light house that the fleet was standing in again; however on the 1st of August they were entirely out of sight.” Puzzled, he stated, “Whether they are gone to the Southward or the Northward is not in my power to tell. When they disappeared the wind was about South.” The Delaware pilot added, apologetically, “I should have sent off this express before, but delayed it from reports being often brought that they were standing in again. The Roebuck went off with the fleet, and has not been seen since.”135
Yet again, Howe's conduct left many people scratching their heads. “All parties were disappointed,” Congressman Henry Laurens of South Carolina wrote, “the cursed Tories who abound in and about this City, because they expected their Friends; the Friends of freedom, because they had wished to give a decisive Blow to those British Buccaniers.”136 Sarah Logan Fisher put it as succinctly as anyone could, regardless of political views, by quoting a line from Joseph Addison's play Cato, “But indeed the conduct of Howe may I think be justly said, in the words of the poet, ‘to be dark & intricate, puzzled with mazes & perplexed with errors.’ Strangely unaccountable is some of his conduct; perhaps time may unravel the mystery & justify his delays.”137 John Adams was, as usual, more acerbic: “What this Man is after, no Wisdom can discover.”138
“All are baulked much, both Whigs and Tories,” wrote Congressman James Lovell of Massachusetts, worried that if the British fleet headed east, “they will kill our army by a march to New England in this cruel hot season.”139 Continental forces were already arriving in the Philadelphia area, and Washington, “being fearful that if the Troops enter this City it will only tend to debauch them,” directed Greene's Division and Morgan's Rifle Corps to halt at Germantown, a substantial village five miles to the north.140 “Genl. W., with a considerable force is at German Town; for the mischiefs of actual war are very severe and grievous,” President Thomas Wharton wrote. “But as a retreat out of sight may be only a new wile of Genl. Howe, the Genl. relaxes nothing till he find him elsewhere.”141
The troops had a long and tiring march to Germantown during what proved to be the beginning of a brutal heat wave. Sunrise was at precisely 5 that morning; by 7, near Philadelphia, the temperature in the shade was already in the seventies, and by afternoon, it was in the mid-eighties; in the sun, it was a good 10 to 15 degrees hotter.142 Lt. James McMichael of the Pennsylvania State Regiment, part of Weedon's Brigade in Greene's Division, briefly described his regiment's day, which began at the Cross Roads in Warwick Township, Bucks County, some twenty-five miles away: “At 3 A.M. the General [a drum signal to break camp] beat; tents were struck and at 6 A.M. we marched, proceeding thro’ the Crooked Billet, reached Germantown at 6 P.M., on the plains of which we encamped. Our encampment was very beautiful.”143
“A very disagreeable account came from Germantown this evening that 2,000 soldiers are there,” Sarah Logan Fisher fretted, “some of them encamped on Shippen's common & some billeted on the inhabitants, & many of them we hear are at Stenton,” the Logan family country seat.144 At over 500 acres, with many rare plants and trees and much experimental cultivation, the Logan estate was one of the largest and most valuable properties in the Philadelphia area. Stenton was a handsome brick mansion built about 1730 at the southern end of Germantown by Sarah's grandfather James Logan, an outstanding scholar and scientist who had been the provincial secretary and a close friend of William Penn. Sarah's father, William, had died the previous October, and her oldest brother, George, who inherited the property, was in Edinburgh studying medicine, so the mansion was unoccupied at the moment. The estate was maintained by tenants.
Thomas Fisher, Sarah's husband and a Loyalist, went up to Stenton the next morning to “see what situation things are in there.” He found Morgan's Rifle Corps stationed on the property. “About a dozen officers have taken possession of the house & the men lie in the barn & about the lane,” Sarah wrote, “about 90 of them at the tenant's & behave to him with great insolence, tho’ treated my Tommy with great civility.” Morgan, she said, “made many fair promises that no damage should be done by his men to the garden, orange trees, &c.,” but Sarah had her doubts; the other troops in general “commit many outrages on the people's gardens, taking their apples, turning their horses into their mowing grounds & every other act of violence that a lawless banditti think fit to show.”
Over the next few days, she was surprised to find that at Stenton, “things are in a better situation than we could expect considering the number of dirty creatures that are there.”145 It couldn't be helped; Morgan's men were a rugged crew, to be sure, but they were in the midst of a hard campaign, having moved well over 100 miles the previous week in the heat of summer. The campgrounds would have been terribly muddy, for five out of the six days saw showers and thunderstorms in a regular summer cycle.146 Interestingly, the discipline in this corps showed in her description, for she wrote, “They do but little damage to the garden, & not any to the house except making it extremely dirty. One company dine in the large back room, & another company upstairs in the large empty room that is there. They find their own provisions & have their own cook but make use of all our kitchen furniture & cook in the kitchen as well as have many fires out of doors.”147
The same could not be said for the army at large. Discipline regarding camp sanitation was a constant problem, as the General Orders repeatedly bear out all through 1777. Greene's Division Orders for August 6 commanded fatigue parties of forty men each from Muhlenberg's and Weedon's Virginia Brigades “to be employ'd in burying all the filth in and round about the Encampment.” The “camp colors men,” those soldiers responsible for preparing the layout of the encampments and seeing to the unpleasant task of digging “vaults,” or latrines, were ordered “to be immediately set to work in filling up the old Vaults and digging new ones,” for “there is such a stench arises on every side of it now as threatens the passengers with immediate Pestilence.”148 They were also ordered to properly place the vaults a distance behind the campgrounds and erect coverings of boughs for the sake of decency. Pine limbs were favored as a way to try to keep the stench in check.
Camping several thousand men in one spot for just a few days during the scorching heat and torrential downpours of the dog days could be more deadly than battle if basic sanitation rules were not observed. Washington repeatedly admonished the troops about their lack of discipline in this regard and chided the officers for failure to enforce the orders.
Despite the stench and the heat, the army had visitors—hundreds of them. “The largest collection of young ladies I almost ever beheld came to camp,” Lieutenant McMichael said enthusiastically on August 3. “They marched in three columns. The field officers paraded the rest of the officers and detached scouting parties to prevent being surrounded by them.”149
McMi
chael belonged to the Pennsylvania State Regiment (PSR), a unit of state regulars that was not militia but was not yet fully integrated into the Continental Army, though it was attached to Weedon's Virginia Brigade for most of this campaign. Numbering about 600 personnel, it was raised from the remnants of several Pennsylvania battalions that had seen hard service in New York the previous year, and many of the young ladies had friends or relatives among them. The regiment was handsomely uniformed in blue coats faced with red, complete with pewter buttons marked, “P.S.R.”
Spine-tingling field music was provided by a full complement of twenty-two fifers and drummers who were enlisted in the army, collectively called the “field music,” as distinguished from “bandsmen,” who were privately hired civilians playing other instruments. The field music was the army's communication system; drummers and fifers in each regiment played signals in camp and in battle and provided cadences and lively tunes on the march. Following the British Army custom of wearing reversed regimental coat colors so as to be easily spotted by their officers, the PSR field musicians were dressed in red coats faced with blue.
The PSR was what a proper regiment should be in terms of numbers, appearance, and ability. But it wasn't only the fine music and handsome uniforms that drew the crowds; besides the pageantry, the young ladies had one other motive for visiting in such numbers. The regiment's Irish-born commander, twenty-one-year-old Col. Walter Stewart, had the reputation of being “the handsomest man in the army,” for which “the Philadelphia ladies styled him the Irish beauty.”150 Being thronged with so many breathless guests was gallantly taken in stride. “For my part being sent on scout, I at last sighted the ladies and gave them to know that they must repair to headquarters, upon which they accompanied me as prisoners,” McMichael proclaimed unabashedly. “But on parading them at the Colonels marquee, they were dismissed after we treated them with a double bowl of Sangaree.”151
The Philadelphia Campaign Page 13