by Kate Messner
Isaac’s heart thudded, but he forced his voice to stay calm as he told the rest of his story. How he’d escaped from the butcher who enslaved him and been hired as a British spy. How he’d spent time in Washington’s camp and was here now to report on the activities there.
The translator explained all this to Rall, who said something in reply. The translator looked at Isaac. “So now you are here. What do you have to report?”
Isaac delivered the lie he’d practiced. “I have seen Washington’s men in their winter quarters,” he said. “They are in a sad state, hungry and weak. Their spirits are as broken as their bodies. Many are refusing orders. The officers can no longer control them.”
Rall leaned back in his chair and smiled. He said something to the other men, who laughed. Isaac looked at the translator, who said, “The colonel is not surprised. But he is pleased that he did not waste time building fortifications around Trenton as General Cornwallis ordered. He has known all along that Washington’s country clowns would never dare to attack.”
Anger burned in Isaac’s chest. He reached into his pocket and squeezed the frozen, knotted rope. He had to stay calm. He couldn’t give himself away. He clenched his jaw and nodded. “They would be hard-pressed to defend themselves, much less launch an attack.”
Suddenly, Colonel Rall leaned forward, studying Isaac’s face. His eyes narrowed when he spoke.
“He asks how he can be sure that you tell the truth,” the translator said. “How are we to know that you are not a spy for the Continental Army?”
Isaac’s stomach leaped into his throat. Had his anger shown in his eyes? He wanted to run. But they were waiting for his answer.
“Does the colonel suppose that a spy would cross the river in broad daylight?” Isaac forced out a laugh. “That would be a foolish spy indeed.” He felt Colonel Rall’s eyes on him and looked away, out the window.
Ranger was there, playing with the Hessians’ dogs. A young soldier was tossing snowballs, and the dogs were leaping to bite them. Isaac pointed. “Surely your hounds would have sniffed out a Patriot dog in their ranks.”
Colonel Rall looked out the window just as Ranger leaped into the air to catch a snowball. It exploded into a shower of snow that stuck to the fur on his chin. Ranger sat down and pawed at his frozen, white beard. The colonel smiled. Then he turned to his men and spoke.
The translator waited, then asked, “Can you get close enough to observe Washington’s men again?”
“Of course,” Isaac answered.
The man nodded. “You shall stay with us tonight. In the morning, when your clothes are dry, you will go. You will return to us in three days’ time to share all that we need to know to launch our attack.”
Isaac spent a fitful night on the floor of one of the Trenton homes the Hessians had taken over. Would they really let him walk away in the morning? Or did they suspect that he wasn’t really a friend? Running off in the night would give him away as a spy, for sure. So Isaac stayed, stroking Ranger’s fur to calm himself.
“Come on, dog!” Isaac called when it was time to leave in the morning. His clothes had dried by the fire overnight. He changed into them, and he and Ranger began the long walk back to the river. The closer they got, the faster Isaac’s heart beat as he thought about crossing again.
It had been a cold night. The ice should be thicker now. But the memory of plunging into that frigid water was fresh in his bones.
And what if the ice was gone completely? There was no hope of finding a boat. After General Washington had brought his men across from Trenton, he’d seized or burned every boat within seventy miles so the Hessians couldn’t follow them.
When they reached the river, Isaac let out a long breath. It was frozen clear to the Pennsylvania shore. But his sense of relief didn’t last. That meant he’d have to cross the thin ice again to return to Washington’s camp.
Ranger sniffed at the rocks on shore. He barked and pawed at Isaac’s leg.
“I know, dog.” Isaac reached down to pat Ranger’s head. “But we have a job to do.” He reminded himself of the information he was bringing back to camp. He had to make it. If he didn’t, everything he’d learned would be lost.
Isaac took a careful step onto the river. It felt solid. But it had felt that way before.
Ranger slid a paw onto the ice and whimpered. He didn’t want to go on the frozen river again. But Isaac was crossing. And that meant Ranger had to cross, too.
Step by careful step, Isaac made his way across. Once, the ice beneath his feet let out a loud crack and a hiss. Isaac froze in his tracks. But the ice held, and soon he and Ranger were climbing the snowy bank on the far shore.
When they arrived back at camp, Isaac had never felt so grateful to see the tents of the Continental Army. An officer hurried out to greet them.
“Have you news from Trenton?” he asked.
Isaac nodded, and the officer motioned for him to come inside a tent. “The general wishes to see you.”
General Washington? Isaac’s eyes widened. He looked down at Ranger. “Stay, dog. Stay.”
“No need for that. Bring him inside,” a deep voice called from the tent.
Isaac’s breath caught in his throat. General Washington himself stood at the entrance. His height and wool cloak were unmistakable. He held the tent open and slapped his thigh.
Ranger trotted up and sniffed General Washington’s hand. He smelled like wood smoke and wet wool. Other dogs, too.
Isaac followed Ranger into the tent. Half a dozen officers sat around a long wooden table covered in papers and maps. “Very well, then,” said one of the officers, looking at Isaac. “What have you to report?”
Isaac stood up straighter. “The Hessians have been watching the ice on the river,” he said. He told them how he’d fallen through and ended up by Colonel Rall’s fire. He told them about the walk to Trenton — the long, windy stretches, the rutted road, and the ravines.
“How many men are there?” an officer asked.
“I’m not certain.” Isaac thought about what he’d seen. “More than a thousand, but less than two, I think.”
Washington nodded. “Is there anything more?”
“I told Colonel Rall that your army has no plans to move. That the men are hungry and weak and no longer following orders.” Isaac hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he should share the colonel’s response. “Colonel Rall called our men ‘country clowns.’ He said he’d been ordered to build fortifications but didn’t, because he knew you wouldn’t attack. They told me to observe your camp and return to them in three days with information. In three days. I believe that’s when they plan to cross the river to attack us.” Isaac felt the weight of what he’d just said. He’d gone into enemy territory as a spy and learned that the fiercest of all the troops fighting for King George were on their way to attack.
“Very well,” General Washington said quietly. He looked at Isaac. “Thank you for your courage, lad. This information is most helpful.” He looked to his officers. “We will meet for a council of war tonight.” Then he turned back to Isaac. “Not a word of this to anyone.”
Isaac knew he should leave, but he couldn’t help asking, “Was my information truly useful? Will it help us prepare for the Hessians’ attack?”
“The Hessians will not be attacking,” General Washington said.
“They won’t?” Isaac was confused. Didn’t the officers believe him?
“They will not,” the general said. “Because we are going to attack first.”
On Christmas morning, Isaac woke to the smell of cook fires. When he ventured out from the tent, his boots made dark prints in the fresh snow.
“Well, look who’s back with us!” Joe’s deep voice boomed. He rushed to Isaac’s side and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “A merry Christmas to you, my friend. Are you well?”
Isaac hesitated. He wanted to tell Joe where he’d been, what he’d done, and what was about to happen. But General Washington’s voice echoed in his m
ind.
Not a word of this to anyone.
“I am well,” Isaac said. “And a merry Christmas to you, too.”
It hardly felt like Christmas. At home in Marblehead, there would have been meat pies baking and bells ringing in the churches. Here in camp, the chaplains called men together for simple, quiet services.
Later in the day, the officers passed out fresh flints for the muskets, along with powder, musket balls, blankets, and three days’ worth of food. No one had announced General Washington’s plan, but as soon as Isaac was handed his rations, he knew. They would be crossing the river tonight.
Early in the afternoon, the soldiers gathered at the parade grounds, ready to march. Every man carried a musket — even the fifers and drummers. They were told to bring sixty rounds of cartridges and as much ammunition as they could carry. Isaac filled his cartridge box and stuffed the rest into his coat pockets. He got in line and began the long, snowy trudge to the river.
Ranger walked alongside Isaac and Joe. The air felt different today. Something was happening. Ranger didn’t know what, but he knew he needed to stay by Isaac’s side.
Ranger sniffed the air as they walked. It smelled of ice and river water and tired men. Some marched even though they’d been sick, even though they could barely walk. Some had worn out their shoes and left bloody footprints in the snow.
The wind picked up all through the afternoon. Isaac pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders and shivered. He couldn’t stop thinking about how cold and biting the river had been when he fell through the ice.
At four o’clock, with a clouded sun low in the sky, all the troops gathered at the river. Finally, the officers shared the truth. The Continental Army would cross the Delaware River tonight while the Hessians slept.
Isaac stood tall while Colonel Glover explained their impossible task. The soldiers of the Fourteenth Continental Regiment would man the boats. They would have to deliver more than two thousand men, plus horses and artillery, across the river before sunrise. Only then could the march to Trenton begin.
For three weeks, Washington had been hiding the flat-bottomed boats he’d seized in inlets and creeks, and on islands that were thick with trees. Now the boats were lined up on shore. They were about forty feet long and eight feet wide. Each one would fit around forty men, standing close together.
Isaac stood in the cold rain, waiting for orders. Their mission had just begun, but already they’d fallen behind schedule. They had hoped to launch the first boats at dusk, but ice floes in the river had delayed them. The ice had broken up since Isaac’s last crossing. Now it came barreling down the river in giant chunks that piled up on one another. They’d have to wait for an opening to cross.
Isaac watched the ice careening down the river. His heart thudded in his chest. He’d tried to tell himself this would be no different from crossing the East River that night back on Long Island. But that had been August. Tonight, they’d have to cross in the middle of a fierce winter storm.
Ranger’s fur was dripping wet. His paws stung from the ice that had worked its way between his toes. But he stayed at Isaac’s side until, finally, the order came. It was time to load the first boats and push off from shore.
Isaac was assigned to a team with Joe and four other Marblehead men. He held their boat steady as soldier after soldier climbed aboard. Ranger tried to jump in, too, but Isaac blocked his way. “There’s no room now, dog. You’ll cross with me later on.” When the boat was full, Isaac pushed off with one of the long oars. In shallow water, the men used them as poles, pushing against the river bottom to move the boat.
Ranger whined as he watched Isaac pull away from shore. In an instant, the boat vanished into the swirling rain and snow. Ranger stood on the bank and waited. He watched other men load other boats, and those disappeared, too. When would Isaac come back?
When the water was deep enough, Isaac and the other men switched from poling to rowing. Once the Pennsylvania shore disappeared into the storm, Isaac couldn’t see land at all — just swirling snow and great hunks of ice that came surging down the river. The men did their best to hold them off with the oars, but huge slabs slammed into the side of the boat. Isaac felt every jolt. What if the boats were dashed to pieces before they made it to the other side?
Finally, Isaac saw a glimmer of light in the distance. His heart flooded with relief, but only for a moment. What if it was a Hessian patrol? What if Hessian guards were waiting on the opposite shore? It would be impossible for them to land without being seen. Isaac’s heart pumped faster with every pull of the oars.
But there was no turning back. He had an order to follow. He had to get these men across the river, no matter what was waiting on the other side.
As the light grew near, Isaac saw that it was coming from the Johnson Ferry House, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He knew from men in camp that the ferry house was owned by friends. And there were no Hessian soldiers waiting when the boat scraped the river bottom. Only an empty bank, swirling with rain and snow.
Isaac and Joe held the boat while the soldiers climbed out. Then the men of the Fourteenth Continental Regiment pushed away from shore and started back across the river. Ranger was waiting for Isaac on the other side. He splashed into the river, jumped up on the edge of the boat, and licked Isaac’s hand. But once again, Isaac shook his head. “Stay, dog. Stay.” Once the boat was loaded, they pushed off again.
Back and forth Isaac rowed. Every so often, he caught Joe’s eye, and his friend would give him a quiet nod.
With every hour, the storm grew more intense. It rained and snowed and sleeted. Wind howled through the tunnel of trees that lined the riverbank. Isaac was glad to be rowing. At least the work kept him warm. The men who huddled together in the boat were frozen half to death.
“Keep moving, gentlemen!” a voice boomed as another group of men boarded the boats. It was General Knox, the officer Washington had put in charge of the crossing. He paced back and forth on shore. Isaac wished he could make the boats cross more quickly, but there was no arguing with ice. Huge, flat chunks came spinning down the river, pushing the boats farther downstream. They were way behind schedule.
All Isaac could do was keep rowing. His hands were cracked and bleeding. But Colonel Glover had made a promise. “My mariners will deliver your men across that river,” he’d told Washington. He had faith in the men of the Fourteenth Continental Regiment. Isaac did, too.
All night long, they navigated back and forth. They had relied on one another in the middle of storms in the Grand Banks. They understood that if one man failed to follow an order, the whole boat could go down. They worked together, young and old, black and white.
It wasn’t like that in the rest of the army. In the early days, General Washington himself had argued that black men shouldn’t be recruited as soldiers. Now the Patriots were desperate and welcomed everyone, free or enslaved. But there was no promise that enslaved men like Joe who enlisted with the Continental Army would be free when the war ended. That’s why many had run to join the British. It had seemed so foolish of General Washington not to welcome every soldier he could get.
Isaac wondered if their enlistments would be so low now if the general had been more thoughtful. He pulled on the ice-coated oar and wondered how outnumbered they would be when they marched on Trenton.
When the last group of men boarded the boat, there was still room, so Isaac thumped the railing with his hand. “Come on, dog!”
Ranger sloshed into the river. He tried to jump into the boat, but the sides were too high. Isaac had to grab him around his belly and lift him in. Soon, Isaac was pushing away from shore, and they began the crossing.
Ranger hated boats. They bobbed and tipped too much. They made his paws feel all wobbly beneath him. Ranger didn’t even like going on the boat at home with Luke and Sadie and their friends. And this boat was nothing like that.
Huge chunks of ice came barreling toward them. One hit the side of the boat with a thu
d. Soldiers clutched the railing with red, raw hands.
Isaac strained his eyes to see when the next huge slab might appear. The ice floes were mostly invisible, but he caught a shimmer of white above the water.
This was going to be a big one.
“Push off!” Isaac shouted. The other men tried to maneuver the boat away from the ice careening toward them, but there was no time. An officer standing next to Ranger pulled his sword from his belt and thrust it out, as if the ice were an enemy who might surrender. The ice kept coming. The officer tried to push it away with his blade, but the tip got stuck. He wrenched it free, and when he pulled his sword back into the boat, the tip was gone.
Before the officer could put his sword away, another slab of ice thumped into them. The boat bucked like a restless horse. A soldier lost his balance and stumbled into Ranger. Then someone shouted, “Man overboard! Grab his hand!”
Ranger jumped up with his paws on the rail so he could see. It was Joe! Somehow in the chaos, he’d fallen over the rail. Now he was thrashing at the river’s surface. Icy water swirled around him. He could barely keep his head up. Another man stretched out his arm, but it didn’t reach. The current was pushing Joe away from the boat.
“Joe!” Isaac tossed him the end of a rope, but Joe was flailing his arms so wildly, he knocked it away. He was already starting to go under.
Ranger leaped over the rail into the water.
Even with Ranger’s thick fur, the icy water took away his breath.
Where was the rope? Ranger spotted it nearby, but it was moving fast in the current. Ranger paddled as hard as he could until he reached it. He grabbed it in his teeth and swam toward Joe. But Joe wouldn’t reach out to take it. Ranger pushed it at him, but he just slapped frantically at the waves. Ranger was afraid Joe would grab him and pull him underwater. But he had to make him take the rope!