The object . . . is to compel the mutineers to unconditional submission, and I am to desire you will grant no terms while they are with arms in their hands in a state of resistance. The manner of executing this I leave to your discretion according to circumstances. If you succeed in compelling the revolted troops to surrender you will instantly execute a few of the most active and incendiary leaders.
The test was slower in developing than Washington had hoped. Horses were difficult to procure, and a heavy snow January 23 delayed all transportation. Washington returned to New Windsor after a single day at West Point but as late as the twenty-fifth he had received neither message nor dispatch to elaborate the first report of mutiny. Consequently, as soon as he learned that Howe’s men were moving without hesitation through the snow, he determined to ride forward and ascertain the “true state of matters.” When Washington reached Ringwood he learned that the number of troops who had defied their officers did not exceed two hundred. A New Jersey commission had undertaken to come to terms with the men—the very thing Washington had wished to avoid—but the commissioners had refused the mutineers’ demand for the benefit the Pennsylvanians won, namely, individual discharge on oath of completed service not disproved by available records. The men had gone back to their quarters eight miles from Ringwood and had begun to riot again. Mutiny continued; military action against the offenders could be taken by Washington without violating any pledge imprudently made by civil authority.
About midnight of January 26/27 Howe marched from Ringwood with his detachment, and by dawn he had taken positions that commanded the cabins where most of the mutineers were asleep. Artillery was trained on the approaches. Howe then directed Lieut. Col. Francis Barber to order the Jersey troops to parade without arms and march to ground he would designate. Some of the men cried out, “What, no conditions?” If they were to die, others shouted, they might as well perish where they were. When Barber reported this, Howe directed Lt. Col. Ebenezer Sprout to advance his troops and cannon and sent word to the mutineers that five minutes only would be allowed for compliance with the orders by Colonel Barber.
The crisis was at hand. Tense seconds of waiting followed. Then, from their shelter, the mutineers began to appear, bundled up for the snow—but without their arms. Who, Howe asked sharply, were the chief offenders? The officers reflected and gave him names. Now, pick the three who had been most violent, one from each regiment. Send a guard directly to the parade, order the three to leave the ranks and bring them to the ground where the General had his post. Keep the mutineers standing in line, organize a field court-martial and try the principal conspirators immediately. Done . . . the three men guilty and sentenced to death . . . Verdict confirmed. Look again at the list of those most active in the meeting. Mark the twelve who had supported most loudly the three about to die. Send this dozen under guard to their huts. Have them carry their muskets to the parade. Promptly done! Let them load their pieces. Take that sergeant who had been the leader. Make him kneel—and pay no heed to his lamentation. The twelve who have loaded, divide them into parties of six each. These six are to fire first, three at the head and three at the heart of the kneeling sergeant. If he struggles after that volley, the remaining six fire. Let them protest and weep if they will. They are fortunate not to be in the sergeant’s place. Fire! Still in spasm? Fire, you second party! He is dead. Now the next villain. Load for him. Proceed as before. Good! . . . dead on the first discharge. The third—are the colonels interceding for him? Was he, as they say, endeavoring to persuade the mutineers to return to their duty? Reprieve him, then. General Washington will pass finally on his case. It is over. Now, all the troops must acknowledge their officers and pledge future good conduct.
“I then spoke to them by platoons,” Howe said later, “representing to them, in the strongest terms I was capable of, the heinousness of their guilt, as well as the folly of it, in the outrage they had offered to that civil authority, to which they owed obedience, and which it was their incumbent duty to support and maintain. They showed the fullest sense of their guilt, and such strong marks of contrition, that I think I may pledge myself for their future good conduct.”
Washington received the report of Howe with deep relief, and he resolved that he would prevent, if he could, any belated concession by New Jersey that would nullify the lesson taught the mutineers. Washington had anticipated, in effect, just such a report as Wayne soon was to make on the outcome of the Pennsylvania review—that more than thirteen hundred were to be discharged and part of the remaining 1150 had been furloughed to dates in March. A corresponding result in New Jersey would be an invitation to New York soldiers to mutiny for like release—and so to the death of the Army. Discipline must be maintained, relief must be afforded, the officers and the intelligent element of the men must be rallied. “The General,” he said in General Orders of thanks to Howe and to that officer’s detachment, “is deeply sensible of the sufferings of the Army.” Then Washington wrote:
He leaves no expedient unessayed to relieve them, and he is persuaded Congress and the several States are doing everything in their power for the same purpose. But while we look to the public for the fulfilment of its engagements, we should do it with proper allowance for the embarrassments of public affairs. We began a contest for liberty and independence ill provided with the means for war, relying on our own patriotism to supply the deficiency. We expected to encounter many wants and distresses and we should neither shrink from them when they happen nor fly in the face of law and government to procure redress. There is no doubt the public will in the event do ample justice to men fighting and suffering in its defence. But it is our duty to bear present evils with fortitude, looking forward to the period when our country will have it more in its power to reward our services.
The cure of the two mutinies had been hampered at every stage by the scourging causes of the discontent—hunger, nakedness and lack of money. “There is not a single farthing in the military chest,” Washington had to admit during the first week of January, and daily he had maddening evidence of the truth he put first in a statement he prepared for John Laurens’ use in seeking a loan in Europe—”the absolute necessity of an immediate, ample and efficacious succor of money; large enough to be a foundation for substantial arrangements of finance, to revive public credit and give vigor to future operations.”
In other respects the period of the Pennsylvanians’ uprising was one of routine at Headquarters, but much of importance had beginnings during the terrible time of the disturbance among the Jersey troops. While Heath was organizing at West Point the detachment that suppressed the mutiny at the Jerseymen’s barracks, Gen. Samuel Parsons on January 22/23 had executed successfully an enterprise against De Lancey’s refugee corps in the vicinity of Morrisania, more than three miles within the British lines. The enemy undertook no reprisal but acted as if the hopes and the attention of all the King’s men were fixed on the southern campaign, where Washington realized already that Clinton or Cornwallis or both of them had developed an admirably dangerous strategical plan. Troops that had left New York under Benedict Arnold December 22 had gone to Virginia. Arnold could render hazardous the movement of stores and provision from the middle States overland through Virginia to the Continentals in the Carolinas; and so long as the British Navy dominated Chesapeake Bay nothing could be sent Greene by water otherwise than by risky voyages to some small port on the Carolina coast that might not be blockaded by British ships. In addition, Arnold could leave the patrol of Virginia rivers to the navy and, if reenforced, could send part of his troops to harass Greene. Simultaneously, Cornwallis, based on Charleston, could close on Greene from the south. Cornwallis was strong enough to organize a vigorous offensive because Gen. Alexander Leslie’s expedition, which had left New York ahead of Arnold’s troops, had gone to Charleston and was moving inland to join the main British column. Greene was in danger of being caught later in the year between two hostile armies. The enemy’s plan threatened complete ruin
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How could Washington frustrate the British plan? He did not dally over the answer: he must strengthen Greene, who could do no more than keep resistance alive until reenforced, and, if possible, Washington must strike a blow that would divert some of the enemy’s force from Greene. The offensive manifestly could not be undertaken on any large scale otherwise than by that help for which Washington had been pleading from the hour the alliance was announced—French naval superiority on the American coast. Half-eagerly, half-wistfully, Washington wrote Laurens, “How loud are our calls from every quarter for a decisive naval superiority, and how might the enemy be crushed if we had it.” Washington’s observation had about it a suggestion that those answers might decide not merely the campaign but the war also. Except for keeping the main Army alive, nothing was now to bulk so large in the mind of Washington as the balance between danger and opportunity in the South.
Washington received word from Rochambeau at the end of the first week in February that a storm on January 22/23 had crippled the British squadron off Gardiner’s Island at the eastern end of Long Island. The French, in the haven at Newport, sustained no damage. Superiority had shifted! The wind had done what the French King could not! Surely this was the awaited opportunity; the French naval commander, now the Chevalier Charles Destouches, might not have numerical advantage many weeks but he could proceed to Virginia waters with his entire fleet and part of Rochambeau’s troops and he might destroy Arnold quickly. “If,” Washington wrote Rochambeau, “Mr. Destouches should have acquired a superiority, which would make it prudent to act, Your Excellency may think this detachment an object.”
Almost a week passed without word from Rochambeau or from Destouches. News from Virginia continued bad. That from the Carolinas, paradoxically, was alarming because it was good. Washington received word that on January 17, at Cowpens, South Carolina, Brig. Gen. Daniel Morgan, had defeated an attacking British force, captured more than five hundred, and pursued the enemy twenty miles. American losses were said to have been twelve killed and sixty wounded. Greene and Washington both feared the success of Morgan might lead the people to underestimate the enemy and relax their effort.
Washington received February 14 a letter Rochambeau had written him on the third: “I am going this moment aboard of the Admiral to know whether he intends going out with all his ships, or at least send a detachment of some of them to Chesapeake Bay.” Was the entire force under Destouches or a part only going to Virginia? If Destouches could be prevailed upon to do so, he must use the entire French squadron and take with him approximately one thousand of Rochambeau’s troops. Washington would dispatch a column of twelve hundred from his own Army to march to Virginia and share in the operations.
If the allies promptly made the utmost of their brief superiority at sea, the opportunity was immense. So great was it that Washington quickly made another resolution: Even if the French could lend no help, he would try to defeat Arnold with American troops from the Hudson and those already in Virginia, and, as a symbol of desired joint action, he would put Lafayette in command. Just as Washington completed plans to start the detachment southward, he received from Destouches on February 20 a disheartening letter that began:
I have the honor to inform your Excellency that Mr. la Luzerne has informed me of the desire of the States of Virginia and Maryland to have the fleet in shape to destroy and dissipate the pirate flotilla which is laying waste the Chesapeake Bay shores, and having the great desire to be useful to the United States of America, I sent down one ship and two frigates to accomplish that object. . . .
It seemed as if the great opportunity were being thrown away, though there was an explanation, of a sort, in other dispatches and, particularly, in one of Rochambeau’s. The British fleet had not suffered as heavily as had been thought. The squadron, though small, would consist of swift, sure sailors: the ship of the line could keep up with the frigates. As Arnold was believed to have no more than a forty and some frigates, his fleet could be destroyed. Destouches’ three vessels sailed February 9 under Arnaud le Gardeur de Tilly. Washington did not believe this small squadron could destroy the British vessels if Arnold gave them the protection of land batteries, and, in answering Destouches, he had to say so at the same time that he thanked the Chevalier. Whatever prospect there was of defeating Arnold by using Lafayette’s detachment and forces already in Virginia would depend, Washington thought, on the ability of Destouches to “block up Arnold in the Bay” and prevent the dispatch of British help from New York. If this was expecting too much of Destouches, Rochambeau had a rumor that Admiral Comte de Grasse had met and defeated the large British fleet of Admiral Sir Samuel Hood in the West Indies. If confirmation of this could be had, Washington hastened to write Rochambeau, “I think we may regard it as an event decisive of a speedy and glorious termination of the war. . . .”
He awaited news from the Indies and from Hampton Roads and undertook to discharge an accumulation of business with a staff reduced by absence and illness and embarrassed by a most unhappy experience with Alexander Hamilton. On February 16, when the General was much perplexed over the problem of getting the French commanders to send the whole of their fleet to Virginia waters, a snapping of tensions provoked a hasty decision by Hamilton to leave the staff. Washington, in recognition of the young officer’s fine qualities, decided he should make the first move to a reconciliation. He sent Tench Tilghman to Hamilton to ask that the Colonel come and talk over a difference that could have arisen only in a moment of passion. Soon Tilghman was back; the offended young gentleman would not change his mind but offered to go on with his duties as if nothing had happened until Washington could get someone in his place.
A daily ordeal was the subsistence of the Army, and more nearly torture than ordeal was doubt concerning the success Greene would have in avoiding an engagement with Cornwallis till the American forces were stronger. Washington heard nothing from de Tilly, but Rochambeau replied carefully to Washington’s plea for the dispatch of the entire French fleet and one thousand French troops to Virginia waters. Destouches, said Rochambeau, had complied fully and promptly with the “requisition” of Congress and of the Virginia authorities. Had Washington’s appeal for larger assistance arrived earlier, the Admiral perhaps “would have decided to go out with his whole fleet.” Rochambeau himself would have been glad to send the desired infantry. As it was the damaged British ships had returned in good order to Gardiner’s Bay. Destouches consequently was “less strong than the English.”
Washington had to reconcile himself to the fact that the brief period of French naval superiority in American waters was at an end. He admonished Lafayette to take all precautions in moving by water south from Head of Elk. Gravely Washington analyzed the outlook: “The situation of the Southern States is alarming; the more so, as the measure of providing a regular and permanent force was by my last advices still unattempted, where the danger was most pressing and immediate. Unless all the States in good earnest enter upon this plan, we have little to expect but their successive subjugation.”
February 27 brought the long-awaited news of the French in the Chesapeake. De Tilly had captured the Romulus, a British frigate, and had taken five hundred prisoners, two privateers and four small transports, which he had sent to Yorktown. Four other troop vessels had been burned. He had conducted a good raid, if not a successful expedition. Then, on March 1 came the great surprise—a French visitor from Newport, Baron von Closen, placed a dispatch of Rochambeau’s in Washington’s hands. Its opening paragraph read thus:
The letters found on board the vessels taken by M. de Tilly have decided M. Destouches to follow in full the plan given by your Excellency, and to risk everything to hinder Arnold from establishing himself at Portsmouth in Virginia. M. Destouches is arming with the greatest diligence the forty-four-gun ship that was taken, and he hopes that this, with the frigates, will be able to go up Elizabeth River. He will protect this expedition with his whole fleet. Your Excellency has given me
orders to join thereto 1000 men. I will send 1120. All my Grenadiers and Chasseurs will be there. The corps will be commanded by the Baron de Vioménil.
Fortune had shifted again! The thing most needed to be done for the American cause was to be done. Rochambeau had urged and Washington desired a conference at Newport. It must be held, if possible, before Destouches sailed. Nothing must be left to chance that could be assured by discussion and clear understanding.
All this seemed to promise fair weather, but while Washington was preparing busily, a letter arrived from Greene which confirmed previous warnings that a hazardous defensive lay ahead. The commander of the Southern Department described the hard marches that his adversary had been able to force on him because the little American army had not equipment or the support of militia in adequate number to give battle. Greene added: “Under these circumstances, I called a council, who unanimously advised to avoid an action and to retire beyond the Roanoke immediately.”
Greene either was being compelled to evacuate all of North Carolina except the northeastern counties or else to seek refuge in Virginia. Cornwallis had no more than 2500 to 3000 men, but he had destroyed his wagons and was operating his entire force as light infantry with dragoon support. Greene must not be run down. North Carolina must be saved. Washington added new instructions to a letter about to be sent to Lafayette: “You are at liberty to concert a plan with the French General and naval commander for a descent into North Carolina, to cut off the detachment of the enemy which had ascended Cape Fear River, intercept if possible Cornwallis and relieve General Greene and the Southern States.” This was daring strategy; could it have even a remote promise of success?
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