Washington

by Douglas Southall Freeman

  Washington consequently had to wait and plan and labor at the endless task of trying to maintain a strong, well-led Army on the feeble foundation of public languor. The senior officers whom he reluctantly placed in command of the wings were Putnam and Heath. A newcomer was General Howe who had high seniority though he had not distinguished himself in the Southern Department. The troops under these men stood at ten or eleven thousand infantry. There was humiliation in a defensive when the people expected vigorous effort, and there was annoyance and waste in hauling over longer roads the supplies that previously had been moved via King’s Ferry. As early as June 15 Washington, who soon established himself at New Windsor, directed Henry Lee to collect intelligence on the strength of the British at Stony Point, and after Anthony Wayne arrived at the end of the month he had that officer make a more detailed study which he supplemented by a personal reconnaissance. The conclusion was that Stony Point might be captured by a surprise night attack, but that a simultaneous effort to seize Verplanck’s Point would complicate the plan excessively. Troops could be advanced on the eastern side of the river, and if all went well at Stony Point, they might be used against Verplanck’s.

  Washington and Wayne undertook separately to draw up detailed plans for the operation, but the Commander-in-Chief had to turn aside immediately because of reports of a British maritime raid on Connecticut towns. New Haven was damaged grievously, Fairfield destroyed, and Norwalk burned before Washington could send substantial relief.

  Washington expedited as best he could the project against Stony Point. In sending Wayne his ideas of a midnight surprise, he said: “You are at liberty to depart from them in every instance where you think they may be improved for the better.” The operation was set for the night of July 15/16; Wayne’s moderate revision of Washington’s plan was presented the Commander-in-Chief the afternoon before the attempt was to be made. That evening Washington directed McDougall to send two brigades against Verplanck’s as soon as the commander at West Point heard that Stony Point had been taken.

  The night of the fifteenth was dark, a condition that would favor surprise, but the hours of darkness seemed long at New Windsor, and the early morning dragged slowly until Capt. Benjamin Fishbourne, aide to General Wayne, rode up to Headquarters and handed this dispatch to Washington: “This fort & Garrison with Coln. Johnston are our’s. Our Officers & Men behaved like men who are determined to be free.”

  Washington asked immediately whether casualties had been heavy. Fishbourne replied, to the General’s vast relief, that the post had been taken with inconsiderable loss. Although Wayne himself had received a facial wound from a musket-ball, he had continued into the works with the troops. Without waiting for details, Washington had Colonel Harrison draft a brief dispatch to be sent express to Congress. Adjutant General Scammell was directed to include announcement of the victory in General Orders of the day.

  Verplanck’s next! If the western end of the crossing at King’s Ferry had been captured, the defenders of the eastern works might be frightened or bombarded into surrender even if there could be no surprise. In addition to pursuing his original plan of sending two brigades from West Point, Washington directed Howe to hasten to the left bank and assume command. Heath was ordered to Peekskill to take general charge of the operation.

  Then, late on the sixteenth or very early on the seventeenth, Washington rode down to Stony Point, but he had to delay his anticipated review of the fine achievement of Wayne’s men because action was still in progress. American gunners had been firing as many as one hundred projectiles an hour against the defences of Verplanck’s; the British flag still was flying, and no heavy damage was apparent. One advantage only could be observed: the wind was blowing downstream and probably would give the Americans at least the whole of the day for an attack before Clinton could reenforce the place. Washington directed that the guns at Stony Point and those of Howe’s command be concentrated on the blockhouse at Verplanck’s in the hope that the destruction of this might induce the garrison to surrender; but the Commander-in-Chief was mistaken in assuming that his forces on the left bank were well supplied with artillery. They had none whatsoever and in other particulars were farcically unequipped for their mission.

  The next day the chance of destroying Verplanck’s was gone. A small British detachment was brought up the Hudson and thrown boldly into the defences from the waterfront; overland advance of strong forces threatened to cut off Howe and Heath. Withdrawal of the American troops on the east bank had to be approved. Swiftly these men moved as far northward as Mandeville’s, opposite West Point—and left Washington to decide whether it was profitable, or safe even, for Wayne’s Light Infantry to remain at Stony Point. The Commander-in-Chief had not planned to garrison permanently the crossing but had reasoned that if his soldiers could capture the two posts and damage them heavily the enemy would not attempt to reoccupy them.

  The requirements for holding the fort made a convincing case against the retention of Stony Point. Washington had the cannon removed, the works demolished and the houses burned, and evacuated the place. On June 19 the enemy reoccupied it. For a while Washington thought hostile tenure might be brief, but he soon concluded the British would stay there unless he drove them off again.

  Wayne’s losses were only fifteen killed and eighty-three wounded. The British commander reported twenty killed, seventy-four wounded, fifty-eight missing and 472 prisoners. He lost, of course, the fifteen cannon of the works at Stony Point and a considerable volume of stores, the whole of which, guns included, later was appraised at $180,655. This was a result that could not have been achieved by other than well-led, disciplined troops who acted under a good plan. Wayne in every respect earned the commendation Washington gave him: “. . . his . . . conduct, throughout the whole of this arduous enterprise, merits the warmest approbation of Congress. He improved upon the plan recommended by me and executed it in a manner that does signal honor to his judgment and to his bravery.”

  In contrast, no praise could be distributed, because none was deserved, for the operations against Verplanck’s Point. Washington may have been correct in deciding that a simultaneous attack on both sides of the river would be too complicated, but after coming to that conclusion he failed to prepare adequately for an undertaking that inevitably would be difficult in daylight, with the British garrison alarmed and certain to receive succor in a short time. The choice of Howe as leader of the advance on Verplanck’s should have been avoided because the Carolinian had served with the main Army scarcely two months and had been incapacitated approximately half that time.

  Washington seldom had failed previously to shift command or assignment in such a way that he shelved his less competent lieutenants and got capable men for difficult enterprises. This time he seemed to concentrate his thought on the operation west of the river and left the other to officers readily deceived or discouraged. For mishandling this part of his enterprise, Washington was himself to blame. Whatever prospect he had of discouraging the reoccupation of King’s Ferry by the British he lost through failure to design against Verplanck’s an operation as adequate as the one at Stony Point. In spite of this, the operation was worth everything it cost.

  That was the view of a proud Army and grateful Congress. In the rejoicing over Wayne’s achievement, Howe’s failure was ignored. A vote of thanks was extended to Washington and Wayne. Rightly, too, praise was given the soldiers, the men who removed the abattis and captured the sentinels, those who waded through the morass with bayonets high, and all who made a reality of the watchcry, “The fort’s our own.”

  While the country rejoiced over the success at Stony Point, Washington had to untangle a series of administrative difficulties. Had the General listed those of the early summer of 1779 his most appreciative admirers might have asked how and why he endured such vexations. The State of Massachusetts unwisely launched an expedition against the British at Penobscot, without asking either Washington’s or Gates’s counsel or giving them a
ny facts about its inception and departure. Reenforcement of South Carolina by Virginia and North Carolina was so slow that only the patience of Washington could have endured it. The General labored over his perplexities in the face of contradictory reports of enemy ship movement. Washington considered the possibility of another attack at King’s Ferry, but decided, instead, to strengthen West Point. He was reluctant to maintain the defensive all summer, but the condition of the Army left no alternative. Death and desertion, sickness and the expiration of service involved a heavy subtraction. Bad as this was, Washington confessed greater fear from the condition of the country’s finances than from the thinness of his ranks.

  The discouraging labor was relieved somewhat, as summer came, by reports of a French victory in the West Indies and by rumors, which proved false, of American successes at Penobscot and Charleston, South Carolina. Closer at hand, Washington himself and some of his young lieutenants scrutinized the British front to see if anywhere an opportunity comparable to that of Wayne at Stony Point could be found. Washington’s survey led him to believe the British were negligent at Powles Hook, the defences on the west side of the North River opposite the lower end of New York Island, and he had Maj. Henry Lee make a reconnaissance.

  This showed that the approaches were difficult, across a wide salt marsh, and that the place was fortified strongly, a situation that led Washington to shake his head. The possible gains did not justify the risks, but Lee soon devised a plan to seize the post if Washington would assign him four hundred men. The Commander-in-Chief finally told Lee the attempt might be made if the Major could assure secrecy, would promise to abandon the undertaking if surprise failed, and could get the approval of Stirling, who commanded in that district.

  Stirling agreed: by August 18 Lee reported everything in readiness. Detachments set out from New Bridge on the Hackensack. Difficulties were encountered quickly. The principal guide proved to be either coward or traitor and followed roundabout, narrow lanes, on which the rear was separated from the main body. This approach delayed the advance seriously but, near dawn, Lieut. Mike Rudolph, who had been sent on reconnaissance reported the fort silent. Its ditch, though nearly full of water, was passable opposite the central approach.

  That decided young Major Lee. He had word passed that the way was open. Without taking time to ascertain seniors, he directed that the commanding officers of the detachments immediately at hand should lead the columns, Rudolph and Lieut. Archibald McAllister were to head the forlorn hope. Success depended upon surprise, and surprise upon silence and vigilance. Off went the men. No sound came from the fortifications; not a single shot challenged the men as the right column halted on the outer edge of the crude tidal moat.

  About four o’clock Lieutenant Rudolph reached the spot below the drawbridge where he had decided he had the best chance of getting across. The men plunged in and headed for the opposite bank, but they were excited and unable to wade slowly. Their dash into the water was noisy—as if a floodgate had suddenly been opened. From the line of the abattis came the shout of a sentinel, then the ring of his musket and, in a few seconds, the sound of a general alarm. Bullets soon were screaming. The forlorn hope, with the support of Maj. Jonathan Clark’s men, broke through the abattis and found in the main work an opening that had been left for easy communication with the countryside. Once in the central defence, the Americans surprised scores of men in bewildered surrender.

  Now, above the rattle of British muskets, there came the b-o-o-o-m of a cannon from the left. Should the Americans load and fire? Men who put their hands on their cartridge boxes realized they could not deliver a single round; they had not been told to take off their belts and hold their cartridges above their heads. All the powder of all the men was hopelessly wet. Some cool-headed men sought out the British magazine to get powder there, but the door was too stoutly constructed to batter down. The situation was becoming more dangerous every second; Lee’s men must leave as soon as they could collect their prisoners.

  With little difficulty and no immediate pursuit, Lee’s party withdrew and started toward Secaucus, where boats were to await them. All went well until the Hackensack was reached near the point where the banks made a small island at Secaucus: One look was enough. Not even a skiff was in sight. Something had gone awry. The crossing was impassable on foot; the men must add more miles to the thirty they had traveled since the previous afternoon. Lee immediately wrote Stirling of his plight, sent off the message, and called on the troops to make a last effort.

  The torturing worst of the long ordeal came as the detachment staggered along, hungry as well as exhausted. Prisoners marched with their guards; rods stretched to miles. At Weehawken crossroads Capt. Thomas Catlett of the Second Virginia appeared with fifty men and dry ammunition. As the rear of the column dragged past the intersection of the road to Fort Lee, Lt. Col. Burgess Ball of the First Virginia arrived with fresh troops whom Stirling had dispatched. Ball immediately started for a position from which he could cover the withdrawing detachment in the last stage of its march and, as he moved out, he saw a British force emerging from woods on the right. These Redcoats opened on the American rear; but Lee also had observed these assailants and he did not wait for his rescuers to deal with them. He sent out two small parties who quickly discouraged the enemy.

  Pursuit ended. Lee’s haul included seven officers and 151 rank and file. Lee estimated his own losses at not more than twenty, several of whom returned later. Lee had been lucky beyond his desert. Failure to keep his column closed, issue sufficient rations, assure dry ammunition and make certain the boats were at Secaucus might readily have ruined his enterprise. Washington did not point out Lee’s omissions. At the moment, inspiration was more important than admonition. The Commander-in-Chief warmly praised him in General Orders and in a dispatch to Congress, and he stood squarely by the young Major when jealous officers protested that Lee should not have been assigned to command his seniors of another arm of the service. Col. Nathaniel Gist of the Sixteenth Virginia preferred charges against Lee and demanded a court-martial. The burden of Gist’s allegation was that Lee had disregarded the rules of seniority and had conducted a clumsy, unfinished enterprise—accusations that required Washington to stand aside until the wheels of military justice had ground out a verdict. Lee, in the end, had complete vindication and high praise by the court. The outcome was a relief to the Commander-in-Chief, who could cry “well done” for Powles Hook as for Stony Point, but he had to ask, Would these taunts stir the sluggard enemy to action?

  Instead of swift and severe reprisal by the enemy after the attack on Powles Hook, Washington had to cope with unrest, suspense, ill-will and apprehension on the part of some of his lieutenants. Sullivan felt for a time that he had not been given adequate force for his operation against the Indians; Greene was suspicious and sensitive and wished to retain both his rank in the line of the Army and his emoluments as Quartermaster General. In dealing with these men and with others who made trouble for him, Washington held to the basic principle of his code of command—absolute candor and justice—a principle not readily accepted by some officers who were disgusted with their idleness and outraged by the progressive decline in the purchasing power of their pay. For the same all-explaining reason the men in the ranks were returning to nakedness. Clothing issued in 1778 had worn out. Continental authorities were not importing a sufficient number of uniforms, shirts, shoes, stockings and hats to supplement adequately those manufactured in America. The Board of War reported despairingly that it had to pay fifteen times as much in paper as clothing would have cost in sterling. Depreciation had risen gradually to forty to one; within three months more, the currency lost acceptance so rapidly that private individuals and some purchasing agents were paying one hundred for one. In stern words, the Board made a paralyzing prediction: “We hope we are not too much under the influence of our fears when we declare that we believe in a very short period, unless some extraordinary event takes place, the present currency
will cease to be a medium of commerce.”

  The outlook for provisions was as gloomy. The French were buying much of the stock of flour for their fleet. Drought was making it almost impossible in several States to grind the wheat brought to mill by farmers who were loath to accept promises to pay in currency that might lose its purchasing power. Officials had on hand no more wheat and flour than would subsist the Army to November 1.

  Simultaneously, the military situation became discouragingly adverse. The Penobscot expedition ended in complete defeat. The enemy appeared to be stronger, because Admiral Marriott Arbuthnot had arrived at New York on August 25, with British contingents Washington estimated as not more than four thousand. Washington thought these troops were earmarked for service in the South, but he was unable to make any move to hold the British at the mouth of the Hudson.

  This was the unpromising state of affairs when, about the middle of September, Washington received a letter in which Sullivan announced that he had met and defeated a force of Indians, British and Loyalists on August 29 at Newton. As his casualties had been negligible, he soon could bring back to the Army virtually all the Continentals who had been detached for the expedition. Another item of encouraging news was a prediction that d’Estaing would return soon with a French fleet—news that prompted Washington to write out all he knew concerning British strength at New York. He explained the practicability of destroying the small British squadron in those commanding waters. “I also entreat your Excellency’s sentiments on the matter of this cooperation,” Washington said, “and you may depend upon every exertion in my power to promote the success of an enterprise from which such decisive advantages may be expected to the common cause.” Henry Lee was hurried off to the Jersey coast to place this dispatch in the hands of d’Estaing as soon as the fleet arrived.

  Rumor was the only food of curiosity until September 29. By that date, Washington knew the French had reached Georgia and had been expected to attack Savannah on the ninth. This information reduced but did not completely destroy the prospect of French cooperation in northern waters that autumn. As he saw it, the entire coast from Newport to Savannah was a chess-board on which he must move promptly and in deliberate acceptance of the fact that every man who could be spared should be sent to Lincoln. Cooperation in the South and preparation in the North became the guiding principle of the campaign. The two Carolina regiments were put on the road; Sullivan was told to rejoin as soon as he could; plans were revised to take into account the possibility that after d’Estaing had destroyed the British squadron at the mouth of the Hudson, he might wish to reduce Newport instead of undertaking the task of capturing New York.