Clinton’s absence was short-lived. Charleston fell much the same way Manhattan had, and Clinton felt no need to stay to put down the backwoods colonists still causing trouble in the Appalachians. He would leave that to his officers and return to the metropolitan delights of New York: mistresses, theaters, balls, and the satisfaction of being the toast of one of the largest cities on the continent.
There was another reason why General Clinton hastened back to the glittering pleasures of New York in June 1780. Rumor had reached his ears that a fleet of French ships carrying troops was bound for North America. As complacent as he was, this new development troubled him. With the assistance of the French, the Americans might be able to take back New York—or even win the war without the city.
CHAPTER 10
The French Connection
General Washington could not hold a grudge for long. After cooling off for several weeks and realizing that no real harm had been done by the misadventures of James Townsend, he began to reconsider his decision. Slow but credible intelligence was better than fast but muddled—or no intelligence at all. Washington had grown accustomed to his reliable and detailed reports from the Culper Ring; those messages provided him with a sense that something was happening to advance the Patriot cause in New York, even if he was powerless to lead the charge to recapture the city.
Meanwhile, the same rumor that Clinton had heard grew to a buzz. A fleet of French ships was crossing the Atlantic at that very moment, coming to give the Americans a much-needed boost of men, might, and morale. If the British intercepted them it would be devastating.
Washington did not know where the French would land. He did not know whether the British knew, and, if they did know, how General Clinton was planning to ambush the fleet. Even great men make mistakes, and Washington knew he had committed a grave one in ending the spy ring. Never before, he realized, had he needed eyes and ears in New York so urgently. It had taken a long time to win over France, and the Americans could not afford to squander their new ally’s good favor.
LOUIS XVI’S SECRET WAR
After centuries of warfare and uneasy truces both on home soil and in colonies abroad, the French wanted nothing more than to see the British defeated in the New World. Not only would it be beneficial for French claims in North America, but the humiliation heaped on King George for his loss to a bunch of upstart colonials was too delicious an opportunity for Louis XVI to ignore. The defeat of Britain in the American colonies would mean good things for France, and Louis was astute enough to realize that such a defeat would not be possible without outside assistance.
What was there to lose by offering help to the rebels? The British hated the French anyway, and the feeling was mutual, so French involvement would not poison any wells that were not already amply tainted. And what could be a more convenient means of deflating the British than supporting a war fought on someone else’s soil, displacing someone else’s population and destroying someone else’s infrastructure?
As early as 1776, the fictitious Roderigue Hortalez & Company trading house had smuggled French money and provisions into the colonies. The company bolstered the American cause prior to the formal declaration of independence from Britain, and continued to supply the colonists’ needs until the French and Americans finalized a treaty. After Benjamin Franklin secured the Franco-American alliance in February 1778, the company had no need to operate undercover.
That is not to say French involvement had been invisible before the treaty was signed. A number of French military officers joined the American cause; most notable was the Marquis de Lafayette, who had been serving with General Washington since 1777. Admiral Jean-Baptiste-Charles-Henri-Hector d’Estaing navigated a fleet of ships up from the West Indies to Rhode Island in 1778, where they engaged with the British in an attack on Newport. D’Estaing’s expedition disappointed Washington: Not only was the battle something of a draw, but the fleet declined to attack the British navy stationed around New York. Unable to save Savannah, Georgia, from siege in September and October 1779, the fleet eventually sailed back to France, taking with it Washington’s high hopes for a decisive naval engagement that would shift the momentum in his favor.
In the spring of 1780, word spread that another fleet had launched on April 6 from the port city of Brest. Code-named the Expédition Particulière (the British called it “Special Expedition”), the fleet was in charge of transporting more than six thousand troops under the command of Count Jean-Baptiste Donatien de Vimeur de Rochambeau. Both sides knew it had the potential to sway the outcome of the war.
That a large French fleet was sailing to the aid of the American cause was no secret in Europe; the extensive preparations for such a venture could scarcely be kept under wraps. But when and where the ships would land was a guessing game for both the Americans and the British. News of French plans had to travel by ship via almost exactly the same route as the fleet itself, making it nearly impossible to know ahead of time the destination of the reinforcements.
Washington had received intelligence that the fleet would be arriving soon and heading for Newport, Rhode Island. What he could not be sure of was whether the British knew the same thing or had only rumors and suspicions from which to operate. If the British were ignorant of the specifics, the Americans might have the element of surprise on their side. If the British had advance knowledge, they could move troops to engage the French as soon as they disembarked or even to prevent their landing in the first place.
By June, the British were in full-on preparation mode, making their best guesses and shoring up the areas they suspected to be the most vulnerable. In Woodhull’s letter of June 10—the same in which he wrote with some offense toward Washington’s revocation of the Culpers’ duties—he also alerted Tallmadge to the flurry of activity on Long Island. “You speak with some assurance that the French is hourly expected to our assistance—hope they may not fail us. . . . Ther’s a grand movement on foot in N.York. The troops are called from Lloyd’s Neck and is said from every other distant post, and an embargo laid on all ships and small Sloops. It is suspected they are a going to quite N.York, or are going to make some diversion up the river, or are afraid of the French. But I cannot but think the former is likely to take place. For I believe their whole design is to the Southward.”
RACE TO NEW YORK
On July 11—and, unbeknownst to Washington, less than twenty-four hours after the French ships dropped anchor in Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island—Washington sent an urgent letter to Tallmadge, asking him to reorganize the Culper Ring. “As we may every moment expect the arrival of the French Fleet a revival of correspondence with the Culpers will be of very great importance,” he scrawled, continuing:
If the younger cannot be engaged again, you will endeavor to prevail upon the older to give you information of the movements and position of the enemy upon Long Island—as whether they are all confined to the port at Brooklyn or whether they have any detached posts and where, and what is their strength at those posts—in short desire him to inform you of whatever comes under his notice and what seems worthy of communication.
Tallmadge received the letter on July 14 and immediately replied to the general that he would set out the next morning to find Brewster, who was still regularly crossing Long Island Sound to Connecticut for trading and taunting purposes. He also made a delicate suggestion to Washington: “I would at the same time hint that by Cr’s last letter, we are something in arrears to him, and in order to enable him to prosecute the business, it may be necessary to afford him a small supply of money.”
Once located, Brewster eagerly set off to find Woodhull, who, unfortunately, was ill with a fever and could not travel (he might have been suffering from a nervous illness as well). Instead, Austin Roe leapt upon a horse and headed straight for New York to alert Townsend, an exhausting fifty-five-mile trip one way. Washington knew by now that the landing had occurred, and he realized that General Clinton
would know, too. Townsend’s mission was to spy out the British response to the fleet’s arrival.
Roe waited in Manhattan four days while Townsend (and very likely Agent 355) made inquiries and gathered as much information as possible from their acquaintances among the British officers. Townsend then recorded the findings in invisible ink between the lines of an order form for goods from his store, and included a fake note apologizing that the merchandise was not available at the time but would be forwarded when it arrived. Roe carried the note back with him—a simple cover story as to why he was carrying papers but no merchandise, in case he should be searched—and gave the sensitive letter to Woodhull. Woodhull passed it on to Brewster that same night to row across the Sound, adding pressing directions: “The enclosed requires your immediate departure this day by all means let not an hour pass: for this day must not be lost. You have news of the greatest consequence perhaps that ever happened to your country.”
Woodhull also submitted a summary of what he had heard as an adjunct to Townsend’s findings, writing that the report
also assures of the arrival of Admiral Graves with six ships of the line and is joined by three more out of New York, also one of 50 and two of 40 guns and has sailed for Rhode Island and is supposed they will be there before this can possibly reach you. Also 8000 Troops are this day embarking at Whitestone for the before mentioned port. I am told for certain that the French have only seven sail of the line. I greatly fear their destination.
Understanding the urgency, Woodhull decided to eliminate Tallmadge from the chain of communication, crossing his code name, John Bolton, off the address of one letter before handing the dispatch to Brewster, who rushed it straight to Washington’s headquarters. Alexander Hamilton, Washington’s closest aide, received the report on the afternoon of July 21.
Unflappable as ever, Washington received the information calmly and carefully considered the possibilities. He desperately wanted to capture New York City, and with Clinton leading most of the British troops stationed there northward to engage the French, this could be his best opportunity. But Washington also knew better than to act rashly. He called together several of his top officers, and they discussed the likelihood of a successful attack; the prevailing sentiment was that it would be unwise. Even with Clinton and a large number of his men gone, the city was still well fortified and the battle would end as a siege, giving Clinton time to return with his soldiers and engage the Americans. Regretfully, Washington was forced to agree with his counselors and admit that he must reject his ambitions to recapture the city, but the brilliant strategist realized he could still capitalize on Manhattan’s vulnerability.
A DIRTY BUSINESS
Washington was always conscious that even as he had spies working behind the scenes, so must the British. Every move required a risk whose cost he must calculate. Each maneuver he planned that had the potential to outsmart the enemy could be countered by the British to the detriment of his own forces. Planting a little strategic information was the best way to protect his army against counterintelligence.
Satisfied with the decision not to attack New York, Washington dismissed his officers—and then hurriedly began drawing up plans and penning correspondence signaling a full-fledged attack upon Manhattan as soon as Clinton’s forces were clear of the city and too near to Newport to be easily recalled. The parcel was dispatched with a courier who hastily left camp with very specific instructions on where and when to deliver the documents. Then Washington waited.
A few hours later, a man stumbled up to a British outpost with a bundle of papers. He told the soldiers he had found the bundle lying by the side of the road and assumed it had tumbled out of the poorly secured saddlebags of a rider traveling at breakneck speed. However it got there wasn’t important, the British immediately concluded. A quick glance revealed battle plans for a pending attack on New York and letters outlining the strategy coming from the hand of Washington himself. The soldiers roused their senior officers, who quickly decided that Clinton and his troops must be recalled. Defeating the newly arrived French troops was important, but holding New York was doubly so.
Flares signaled the message to Clinton, and the British ships did an about-face to sail back to New York Harbor, where Clinton ordered his troops to brace the city for an attack that could come at any time. The whole city held its breath, every citizen straining to hear the first sound of cannon fire breaking the silence of the countryside as the Americans advanced.
They waited. And while they waited, the French disembarked and moved to an area of safety to await their marching orders with no interference from the British, no naval attacks upon their ships, and no ground offensives from Clinton’s army. Washington’s gamble had paid off beautifully.
George Washington, whom generations of schoolchildren would later know as a man who “could not tell a lie,” couldn’t help but be pleased. Even if the victory was bittersweet, because his first choice would have been to recapture New York, he had been able to secure, through his design of a fake attack, the safe arrival of the French reinforcements, which would shore up his prospects for a more successful assault at New York or elsewhere in the future. By intentionally planting misinformation, he achieved on a grand scale what he had accomplished in a smaller way with John Honeyman at Trenton in December 1776.
As for the Culpers, the ring was securely back in Washington’s good graces. The quality of their information and the prudence they exercised in delivering it had enabled him to both understand the plans of the British and take decisive action by choosing not to risk an attack on New York. The ring had more than proved its worth, but the war was not yet won.
CHAPTER 11
Benedict and Peggy
Even as the Americans were congratulating themselves on the success of their counterintelligence, a traitor was building his own network within their midst. In the early summer of 1780, just as the Culper Ring was entering its hiatus and Clinton and André were settling back into New York after their foray to South Carolina, Major General Benedict Arnold was working to get his hands on a new command. Though he had been living the high life in Philadelphia, some recent unpleasantness had wounded his ego, and he had found himself in an all-too-familiar position: humiliated, angry, and desperate to prove his worth. He was about to show the world just how important he really was. If the Americans couldn’t see his value, the British would.
Arnold had been a man with something to prove right from the start. Despite his current rank of major general in the Continental Army, he was profoundly insecure and carried a chip on his shoulder from a lifetime of feeling perpetually slighted by fate. Given the paternal name of “Benedict” after an older brother bearing the same name died in childhood, Arnold started out life living in the shadow of someone else, and no matter his later successes, he always seemed plagued by insecurities and a sense of somehow always falling short.
Unable to attend Yale due to his father’s financial woes brought on by alcoholism and poor health, Arnold was forced to learn a trade instead. He apprenticed with two of his maternal uncles in their apothecary and mercantile shop but longed for something greater. In 1755, at the age of fourteen, he begged to be allowed to join the colonial militia that was in service of the king of England in the French and Indian War. His mother forbade him to do so, but two years later he enlisted anyway, only to leave the militia the following year, allegedly deserting.
However he came to be separated from his first term of military service, he proved to have a strong business sense and by his early twenties was running a successful pharmacy and bookshop in New Haven, Connecticut. Eventually he was able to purchase partial ownership in a small fleet of merchant ships and occasionally sailed on trading ventures to the Caribbean. With the increase of British taxation, starting with the Sugar Act in 1764 and the Stamp Act the next year, Arnold felt the pinch but followed the example of many American merchants who simply ignored the laws they viewed
as unwarranted and unjust from a government that taxed its colonial citizens without granting them representation in Parliament.
In 1767, he married Margaret Mansfield, a hardworking and prudent woman who proved a valuable partner to him, thanks in large part to her family’s solid standing in New Haven, where her father served as sheriff. Arnold began to fall on financial hard times and accumulated some substantial debts, but he continued in his trading business even as his outrage over the political climate in the colonies increased. On March 5, 1770, British soldiers fired into a crowd of protesters in Boston, killing five civilians and wounding six. The Boston Massacre infuriated Arnold. He had been in the West Indies at the time, so the news did not reach him until more than a month after the fact, but it stirred in him a profound sense of action and responsibility. “Good God,” he wrote on June 9. “Are the Americans all asleep & tamely giving up their glorious liberties or, are they all turned philosophers, that they don’t take immediate vengeance on such miscreants; I am afraid of the latter.”
In March 1775, Arnold joined the Connecticut militia as a captain and just two months later received a colonel’s commission in the Massachusetts Committee of Safety after he offered plans for attacking the British outpost at Fort Ticonderoga in northern New York. The mission was a success and Arnold garnered accolades for his performance, but he resigned his commission after a disagreement with another militia leader. He then set out to return home to serve in Connecticut. Bad news seemed to have a way of reaching Arnold whenever he was traveling, and he was on the road when he learned his wife had died.
Over the next few years, Arnold was involved in a number of key American victories and distinguished himself as an insightful strategist and able officer. But his talents were not nearly so celebrated as Arnold believed was his due. His advice was often heeded, though he was not sought out as a leader; he was passed over for command and promotion several times, which deeply wounded his ego. He became a polarizing figure, either loved or loathed by his comrades in arms. Those who argued in his favor pointed to his keen understanding of strategy and shrewd assessments of the enemy’s vulnerabilities. Those who argued against him pointed to his quick temper, his growing pessimism toward the success of the American war effort, and his apparent motivation by personal glory and gain. Colonel John Brown, one of Arnold’s rivals, prophetically wrote of him in 1777: “Money is this man’s God, and to get enough of it he would sacrifice his country.”
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