For a fortnight and longer, after Arnold’s volunteers marched away, there was spiteful dispute by the artillery, but nothing that indicated preparation by the British for an immediate attack. The British made ten shots or more for every one from an American cannon, because Washington demanded unrelaxed care to prevent the wastage of powder. Each grain was guarded as if it were a coin in the last treasure of America. Some additional powder arrived at the camp, but almost as much went out of the store as ammunition for the men. The feeling grew in Washington’s mind that if powder could be had, the enemy could be driven from Boston; but, meantime, angry artillerists had to endure the annoyance of British fire and shivering sentinels had to be clothed. The work of constructing barracks was pressed, though not at a speed to equal the evidences that the need would be early and inclusive. Weather, rather than slow-handed workmen, was responsible for most of the delay in building winter quarters. The soldiers themselves were not laggard.
Washington, as everyone else, was unprepared for what developed at the end of September when Brig. Gen. Nathanael Greene called at Headquarters and asked to see the Commander-in-Chief privately. He entered with another man, Godfrey Wainwood, a baker of Newport, Rhode Island, and handed Washington a letter that Wainwood had brought from Henry Ward, Secretary of that Colony. Ward’s letter and Wainwood’s statement had to do with a woman who had come to Wainwood’s house in Newport early in August and, on the basis of previous acquaintance in Boston, had asked him to arrange for her to see Capt. James Wallace of H.M.S. Rose, or the Royal Collector, Charles Dudley, or George Rome, a known Tory, who was a rich merchant and shipowner. The manner of the woman led the baker to wonder if she might not have some secret communication to make to a Loyalist. Wainwood at length got from her an admission that she had received in Cambridge a letter she was to deliver to one or another of the men she had named in order that it might be forwarded to Boston. Finally, the woman acceded to Wainwood’s suggestion that she entrust to him the letter, which he said he would deliver at first opportunity. She disappeared and presumably went back to Cambridge. Wainwood related the circumstances to a Newport schoolmaster named Maxwell, a stout supporter of the Colonial cause. Without hesitation, Maxwell broke the seal and opened the communication. It was to no purpose that he scrutinized the sheet, because the letter was written in strange characters and was completely unintelligible. Maxwell gave the paper back to Wainwood, who put it away again and troubled himself no more about it until, days later, the woman wrote him in much trepidation.
Wainwood was a man of native shrewdness and concluded that the person who had employed the mysterious cipher had been in communication with the addressee in Boston and had learned that the letter had not been received. He went to Maxwell, told him what had occurred and agreed that the two of them would proceed to Providence and report the circumstances to Ward.
So, there they were, Greene and Wainwood, with the letter the woman had sent the baker and with the cryptogram she had left with him earlier. Who was the woman? Wainwood gave her name and confided that she was a female of easy virtue with whom he had consorted in Boston before the war. Washington gave orders that search be made for her. That evening she was brought to Headquarters but was obdurate. The next day she was worn to the point where she could resist no longer: the man who had given her the letter to carry to Newport was Dr. Benjamin Church.
Dr. Church? The Director General of the Hospitals, a leader in the Massachusetts Congress and a member of the Boston delegation, along with Samuel Adams and John Hancock in the new House of Representatives? Could it be possible that a man so distinguished for public service, one of those sent to Springfield to escort Washington and Lee to Watertown, could be engaged in a correspondence that certainly was clandestine and suspicious and probably was traitorous?
In a few hours the Doctor appeared under guard and submitted to questioning. Yes, the letter was his and was intended for his brother, Fleming Church, who was in Boston. When deciphered, the Doctor said, the document would be found to contain nothing criminal. He accompanied this with protestations of loyalty to the Colonies, but he did not offer to put his letter in plain English. Nor did he explain why he had said nothing of the correspondence to any person but the woman who, it eventuated, Church had been keeping as his mistress.
Church must be put under surveillance; the letter must be deciphered. The key was found easily. By October 3 Washington received the deciphered document. The letter evidently was to a person with whom Church previously had conducted a correspondence. The Doctor recorded his own movements, told of a visit to Philadelphia, described the strength and equipment of the Colonial forces, mentioned a plan for commissioning privateers, and stated that an army would be raised in the Middle Colonies to take possession of Canada. The letter concluded with elaborate instructions concerning the dispatch of an answer. The last sentence was, “Make use of every precaution or I perish.” In Washington’s eyes, Church was in traitorous communication with the enemy. His sense of justice did not protest for an instant against the verdict of his military judgment.
Procedure was another matter and one concerning which Washington was not certain. He felt the need of advice and convened a council. Grimly he informed the general officers of the discovery of Church’s activities and laid before them the text of the letter. The other Generals, like Washington, were stunned and unable at the moment, to reach any other decision than that they should summon Church and judge for themselves. Church was brought before the Generals October 4 and was confronted again with the deciphered text of the letter: did he acknowledge it? Church did not hesitate. He had written the letter; it was deciphered properly; he had penned it deliberately in the hope he might deter ministerial forces from attacking at a time when the Army’s supply of ammunition was low.
The argument was unconvincing. Dr. Church was taken from the room still declaiming about his loyalty to the American cause, and Washington asked the members of his council for their judgment. Unanimously they were of opinion that Church had carried on a criminal correspondence. What, then, should be done with him; what did the Army regulations prescribe? The offence was one so little contemplated that none of the officers was quite certain of the punishment. A search of the regulations adopted by Congress in June disclosed an odd provision: Under Article XXVIII, a person communicating with the enemy was to suffer such punishment as a general court-martial should mete out; but under Article LI, it was disputable whether a military court was authorized in such a case to impose any penalty heavier than that of cashiering, a fine of two months’ pay, or thirty-nine lashes. Apparently the Delegates in Philadelphia had not considered carefully the limitations set to the authority of courtsmartial. This penalty was absurdly unfitted to the crime. There was nothing the council could do except have Washington call the attention of Congress to the inadequacy. Pending further instructions from the Delegates in Philadelphia, Church must be confined closely and denied all visitors except those who had the General’s permission.
Washington remained determined to have the man punished. He saw to it that Church was kept in confinement to await the judgment of Congress and also of the Massachusetts Assembly, which could act independently on the treason of one of its members. Church was sent for custody to a Connecticut jail “without the use of pen, ink or paper, to be conversed with in the presence of a magistrate only, and in the English language.”
Word reached the Americans, in the midst of the excitement over Dr. Church, that General Gage had been ordered home and that Maj. Gen. William Howe had been named to act in Gage’s absence as head of the armed forces in that part of America. The change was one to justify the conclusion that Gage had been recalled because he had been too cautious, too discreet in using his forces or, perhaps the vainglorious might say, too much afraid of the Colonials to take the offensive against them. Beyond this, there was no ground for rejoicing over the transfer of command. On the contrary, Washington might well have reasoned that he was exchanging an
adversary he knew for one with whom he was unacquainted, except as Howe had shown fighting spirit at Bunker Hill.
At the beginning of the third week in October, with the camps buzzing over Church’s arrest and the recall of “Blundering Tom,” as the men styled Gage, it was too early to expect important news from Arnold; but barracks had to be built and ceaseless vigilance displayed, and the possible break-up of the Army had to be faced. The enlistments of the Connecticut and Rhode Island troops would terminate December 1; none of the men from other New England Colonies had covenanted to remain in service beyond the end of 1775; the riflemen, in the main, would be subject to martial law until July 1. If the majority of the foot soldiers reenlisted, the ranks might be filled by vigorous recruiting; but if most of the men marched off, how were they to be replaced?
Congress wished to know what number of men would suffice for a winter campaign? Could soldiers’ pay be reduced? Of what should the ration consist? Were further regulations necessary for the Army? To these questions Washington added several of his own and, in particular, one concerning the term of future enlistments. The General was notified from Philadelphia that a committee of Congress would come immediately to Headquarters to confer with him. To the meetings Washington was directed to invite representatives from the legislatures of the New England Colonies and the Governors of those Colonies that had such officials. This arrangement was acceptable to Washington in both its parts and not the less so because of the members chosen for the committee of Congress: Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Lynch, and Washington’s friend Benjamin Harrison of Virginia.
When the committeemen reached Cambridge, October 15, Washington had ready for them the advice of his council of war on the questions of organization, pay, rations and the like; but in the absence of the President of the Congress of New Hampshire the committee waited before beginning discussion of subjects that seemed to grow in intricacy and in number. The time was not lost. Among the instructions given by Congress to the committee’s members was one that they declare the sense of the Congress respecting an attack on the troops at Boston: If before the last of December Washington should think it practicable it will be advisable to make attack upon the first favorable occasion and before the arrival of British reen-forcements; if the troops did not suffice, Washington should be authorized to call in as many minutemen as he thought proper. Washington felt that he should resubmit the question to his senior officers. He called them together October 18 and told them that he had “an intimation from the Congress that an attack upon Boston, if practicable, was much desired.” Not one of the eight believed it feasible.
The committee met with Washington that same day and before it took up matters of administration requested the officers of the Connecticut regiments to ascertain how many of their men were willing to remain in service until the other troops finished their enlistment at the end of December—a necessary first step in determining what strength would be at Washington’s disposal during the last month of the year. The conference accepted the council’s figure of 20,372 as the minimum strength of the new Army, and proceeded to deliberate on what should be done if reenlistments did not reach that total. The decision was to encourage in every way general continuance in service, to look to individual officers to fill their own ranks and, if all else failed, to summon the militia.
Optimistic early reports indicated that most of the officers would be willing to remain with the Army through 1776 and many beyond that date; but detailed reports soon led Washington to doubt whether more than one-half, or at maximum, two-thirds of the company officers would promise to stand by the colors to December 31, 1776. Whether the Connecticut private soldiers would agree to remain until the expiration of the enlistment of the Massachusetts and New Hampshire troops on the last day of December was a subject of sharp division of opinion. Many officers thought the greater number of the troops would stay to the year’s end if, meantime, the men could go home on furlough, see their families, and get winter clothing. Unhappy knowledge that even the warmest coats would not protect the men from cold was a special consideration with the committee in urging the utmost speed in ascertaining the sentiment of the soldiers. If the men were doubtful about committing themselves while autumn weather lingered, they almost certainly would insist on leaving, if they could, when December had frozen the fields and sent paralyzing chill into unfinished barracks.
Actual polling of the rank and file of the Connecticut regiments was disheartening. “After breakfast,” one Lieutenant of the Eighth wrote, “we called out the company and made a trial to see who would stay in the service till the 1st of January, but not a man would engage.” If this was typical, the Army would be dangerously weak in December, after the Connecticut men went home. During that month, moreover, a new force must be created. The least difficult situation that Washington could anticipate, in short, was that of having thirty-one days in which to muster out one army and replace it with another while in the presence of the enemy.
Would it be possible to reduce that danger by attacking the British? Twice a council of war had decided against an offensive by the Americans. The approach of winter suggested something that had not previously been mentioned in Washington’s reports to Congress: Suppose the harbor of Boston were frozen so tightly that the British warships could not maneuver; suppose sufficient powder and long-range cannon were collected at suitable positions; could the city be bombarded so heavily that the British would be forced to surrender? If this was possible, would it be humane? Should the people of Boston have death that America might have liberty? These were questions for common counsel. On the last day of the conference, October 24, Washington reviewed what had been said about attacking Boston. The matter, the committee said, was of “too much importance to be determined by them”; they would refer it to Congress on their return to Philadelphia.
What the bombardment of a town of wooden houses might involve, commander and Congressmen learned in sickening detail while they were discussing future operations. Washington received from an intelligent Boston refugee a report that a considerable squadron, including two transports that could provide quarters for a total of six hundred men, was to have sailed from that port October 4—a warning that was passed on, as soon as possible, to most of the coastal towns. The squadron was delayed, but on the thirteenth it was standing out to sea. Nothing more was heard of it until the twenty-fourth, when the three members of Congress were catching up the last loose ends of their instructions. On October 16 four British vessels had appeared off Falmouth under the command of Capt. Henry Mowat. After much bluster, warning, futile negotiation and demand for cannon and hostages, Mowat’s ships opened fire on the eighteenth. The town was set afire and the greater part of the prosperous place destroyed—139 dwellings and 287 other structures. Captain Mowat was alleged to have orders to burn all the seacoast towns between Boston and Halifax. The lesson of Falmouth could be applied in Boston. With proper artillery, Boston could be destroyed if that was the only way of driving the enemy out—a different plan, most certainly, from Washington’s expectation in July that his prime duty would be to confine the enemy to Boston.
Hopeful impatience mounted for news of Arnold. About October 4, Washington had received a letter written by Arnold September 25 announcing that he had reached the Kennebec River promptly, September 20, but that he had found some of the batteaux so poorly constructed he had felt it necessary to build others. While this delayed his general advance, he had sent forward two reconnaissance parties and was following with two other “divisions.” Col. Roger Enos was to bring up the rear. After that report, Washington received none from Arnold for days. The General comforted himself with recollection of one explicit order he had given Arnold: If anything went amiss, Arnold was to notify him by express. For a time, Washington was equally apprehensive of delay in Schuyler’s expedition against Montreal, because the New York commander continued to report obstacles that were vexatious and dangerous. Gen. Richard Montgomery was pushing toward St. John’s and Fo
rt Chambly but, said Schuyler, he himself was beset by many difficulties. During the first week of November, Schuyler reported that Montgomery had captured Chambly with its garrison of eighty men, 124 barrels of gunpowder and 125 stand of British arms on October 20. Within three or four days, Washington received a dispatch that Arnold had written October 13 at the second portage from the Kennebec to Dead River. Arnold expressed the hope that the worst of his difficulties were behind and that he would reach the Chaudière River within eight or ten days. Washington was immensely relieved. He wrote of Arnold on November 8: “I think he is in Quebec. If I hear nothing more of him in five days, I shall be sure of it.” Five days of silence followed, but on the sixth day good tidings from Schuyler arrived: St. John’s on the Richelieu River had fallen to the Americans. So fine an achievement presaged the isolation and almost certain fall of Montreal. Montgomery had done his part well. If Arnold matched him, Quebec as well as Montreal would be wrested from Britain.
Five days more and then, on the nineteenth, more news, incredible news: There arrived from Arnold another dispatch, dated at Chaudière Pool, not at Quebec, and forwarded by Colonel Enos. The heading and opening words of Colonel Enos’s own explanatory letter were enough to make the eyes bulge and the blood run to the face:
Brunswick, near Kennebeck, November 9, 1775
Sir: I am on my return from Colonel Arnold’s detachment. . . .
Enos went on to relate how, as he had advanced, Arnold had sent back for provisions with which to feed the men in front. Enos had forwarded what he could and then had decided that he should turn back with his three companies because, if he went on, the provisions of all would give out before supplies could be had from the French settlements on the Chaudière. Retreat seemed desertion of Arnold. Arnold’s letter appeared to make the withdrawal all the more infamous. Arnold had been much impeded by heavy rains. Provisions were short; Colonel Enos and Col. Christopher Greene had been directed to bring forward no more men than they could supply with fifteen days’ rations. Although the route was far worse than Arnold had been told to expect, he would press on and would get provisions. Indications pointed to a welcome by the French in Canada; reports were that few troops, if any, were stationed at Quebec.
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