by Oliver North
She was still blushing when, as my mother taught me, I took her hand, bowed slightly, and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Tracy, ever so much, for inviting me to this wonderful evening.”
William must have said something similar because she continued to smile and even curtsied. We followed Captain Morgan out the front door, found Sgt. Cady, mounted our horses, and were in the encampment in fewer than thirty minutes.
As I drifted off to sleep, the side panels and roof of the headquarters tent were flapping in the steady wind. But it had not changed direction.
Endnote
1.Benedict Arnold’s wife, Margaret, mother of their three sons, died on 19 June 1775 of what was described at the time as a “deadly tumor.” It is today believed to have been cancer.
Chapter Eleven
1775: RIVER-READY BATTEAUX?
Newburyport, Massachusetts
Tuesday, September 19th, 1775
Monday was yet another lost day to the nor’easter. I spent much of it reconciling our Advance Force rosters and manifests with those maintained by Captain Febiger and information on troop and cargo capacities of each vessel. By the time I retired, at 10:00 p.m. the wind was beginning to shift to the left. At 5:00 this morning when Sgt. Cady awakened me carrying a windproof lantern, it was strong and steady right out of the west.
He said, “One of my dragoons just came up from the wharf. Captain O’Brien wants us to start moving immediately to embark.”
While still somewhat protected from the wind inside the tent, I pulled a waxed taper out of my pocket, lit it from Sgt. Cady’s lantern, and then lit mine.
“Thank you, Sgt. Cady. Now, please go to the farmhouse and awaken Captain Febiger. We need to get everyone in this encampment up and moving.”
Amazingly, shortly after sunrise, the entire Expeditionary Force—all 1,207 of us—was up, packed, and ready to march to the wharf in the sequence they would board their assigned vessels.
By 8:00 a.m. Capt. Morgan’s Advance Force was boarding. I arranged with our two Pennsylvania Rifle Company Commanders, Captains Hendricks and Smith, to mark the manifest for the names of each person boarding. The same process was used for every ship.
Advance Force: Machias Liberty and Polly
1st Battalion & Expedition Force HQ: Broad Bay, Eagle, and Betsy
2nd Battalion & Artillery: Britannia, Juno, and Conway
Reserve & Rear Guard: Houghton, Abigail, and Swallow
Spare/Rescue: Dublin
When each vessel took aboard its full complement of soldiers and equipment, the man with the manifest shouted out the name of the vessel and the words “All Present or Accounted For!” At that point the ship’s crew cast off the lines and a long boat with six oarsmen tugged the ship away from the pier to anchor in the Merrimack River, bow upstream, out of the way of other vessels, and still properly sequenced.
Despite the west wind and a flood tide trying to push the transports out into the Atlantic, none of the vessels collided or dragged anchor more than a few feet. By 5:00 p.m. loading was complete and Captain O’Brien hoisted to the top of his mast, the Red and White striped Sons of Liberty Flag, the pre-arranged signal to “Follow Me!”
Within seconds, every transport raised their anchors, set sails, and sortied behind Machias Liberty toward the Atlantic. Once out of the harbor, they all turned northeast behind us on the course Capt. Obrien set, straight to the mouth of the Kennebec River.
The wind was perfect and throughout the night, lookouts on the bow and stern kept watch on the lights of the vessel ahead and behind, trusting Capt. O’Brien would not lead them all onto the rocks.
By dawn, Machias Liberty and Polly were on the approach to the center—and widest passage of the Kennebec channel. Each vessel trimmed sails to slow and the twelve-ship column, now stretching almost two miles long, began negotiating the twisting course upriver to Gardinerston.
Gardinerston, Maine
Friday, September 22nd, 1775
Just before dark on Thursday evening, September 21st, Captain O’Brien’s bow lookout sighted the pier at Gardinerston. Because it would soon be dark with only a sliver of moon, he signaled the column of transports to close up in proper order aft of Machias Liberty and anchor for the night.
At dawn this morning Captain O’Brien again hoisted the Sons of Liberty flag and our little fleet raised anchors, set reefed sails on a port tack, and headed up the Kennebec River to Gardinerston on an ebb tide that went slack as we pulled adjacent to our goal. Captain Morgan, 1st Lt. Humphrey, and I were on deck, fascinated at the activity aboard, and glad the first leg of our expedition was completed without incident.
By 10:00 all twelve vessels were berthed in a row with bow and stern lines along the town’s quay. Ashore, dockworkers helped secure lines while the crew and passengers aboard each vessel stowed sails and began opening hatches to expedite unloading cargo.
As soon as a gangway was set on the rail of Machias Liberty, two gentlemen we met in Cambridge bounded aboard, Mr. Reuben Colburn and the diminutive Aaron Burr—still in a Continental Army uniform.
“Captain Morgan!” Mr. Colburn shouted. “So good to see you again, sir! Welcome to Gardinerston, Maine, a thriving place named for its founder, Doctor Sylvester Gardiner, a medical doctor, the fellow who built the water-powered sawmill and gristmill here—and perhaps the Colonies’ largest importer of laudanum to apothecaries like Benedict Arnold’s.
“Dr. Gardiner has but one serious flaw—his affection for mad King George. For that reason, Sylvester is not here to welcome you. In June, after the battles for Breed’s and Bunker’s Hills, he fled to Boston. Now, sir, we must greet Colonel Arnold. Where is he?”
Captain Morgan, until now mute, quietly replied, “Good to see you again, as well, Mr. Colburn. Colonel Arnold is on the schooner Broad Bay, the third vessel aft of us. May I inquire, sir, where are the 200 batteaux into which we are to transfer the cargo and personnel of this expedition?”
“Ahh, yes,” replied Mr. Colburn. “The 200 completed batteaux are staged at my boat yard, near my home, just upriver from here. We shall proceed there immediately as soon as Colonel Arnold and I conclude some business.”
At that, Mr. Colburn feigned some sort of salute, spun about, and departed down the gangway with Mr. Burr hurrying in trace.
Captain Morgan watched them go and then said, more to himself than William or me, “Lord, that man can talk. I pray he managed to build two hundred batteaux with the same alacrity.”
While Colonel Arnold and Mr. Colburn were closeted aboard Broad Bay, we offloaded our two wagons and draft horses, formed up the entire Advance Force and moved two miles upriver on good road to Mr. Colburn’s place.
On arrival, we learned Mr. Colburn was a better talker than batteaux builder.
A crew of more than forty men were hard at work on a large field close to the Kennebec. Some were sawing green lumber—aspen, birch, beech, fir, pine, spruce, even some maple and oak into boards of various lengths and boat-framing parts. Another group carried the cut boards to an area where a third crew, wielding hammers, were nailing the boards to rough-cut frames in the approximate shape of a flat-bottomed, double ended boat.
After a quick walk-through the “boat yard,” with 1st Lt. Humphrey, Captains Hendricks and Smith—our two Pennsylvania Rifle Company commanders—and me, Captain Morgan called us into a circle. “Move our men over to that open field. Each company take a muster to ensure we are all present or accounted for. Set up our usual perimeter and dig some sanitation pits but don’t set up tents yet.
“Captain Smith, post three of your Riflemen down by Mr. Colburn’s house to guide the rest of the Force up here to bivouac so they don’t interfere with the boat-builders. I am going to take Ensign Newman with me to find Colonel Arnold and let him know we need to move the Advance Guard to Fort Western today. All of us must do whatever it takes to get this expedit
ion underway.
“While we’re gone, I want the three of you to select twenty-five men from each Rifle Company. Take them to the boat ramp where we saw the finished boats. Find the best thirty-five of the batteaux and set them aside. 1st Lt. Humphrey, find the boatwright in charge here and tell him we need a barrel of oakum—that’s a mixture of pine tar and hemp fibers. Use the oakum to double seal the inside and outside of the hull seams along the bottoms and between the strakes on the sides of every one of the thirty-five batteaux you have chosen. Post a guard on the boats you finish so no one else can claim them.”
He consulted his watch and continued, “It’s just noon. If at all possible, our entire Advance Guard ought to be headed upstream on a rising tide toward Fort Western by 4:00 p.m. It’s just ten miles north of here. William, we need to know whether the track between here and Fort Western is passable for wagons. Ask some of these boat workers. They are more likely to tell the truth than some others around here.
“If those you ask, say ‘no,’ tell the teamsters on our wagons to remove all the hitching gear, shafts, traces, axles, wheels, brakes, seats, and associated leather and hardware from both wagons. Have them set all that equipment neatly inside our Company perimeter. Make sure the horses have forage and water.
“When all the hardware is removed from the wagons, drive bungs and oakum into the holes. The bottoms and sides of both wagons are already sealed; I had them built that way just in case we might need to use the wagons as cargo barges. Remember, every boat should have on board four long towing lines, six long, strong poles—ash, if possible—and six paddles. Any questions?”
“Yes, sir, just two,” said 1st Lt. Humphrey. “If we turn our wagons into cargo barges, what will become of our draft horses?”
With a smile that wrinkled the scar on his face, Capt. Morgan replied, “William, you and Nathanael here will recall, I built the wagons and paid personally for those magnificent Virginia draft horses, better than anything seen up here.
“You should be able to auction the horses and hitching gear for much more than I paid back in Virginia. If you do so while Nathanael and I are gone, I will give you a 10 percent commission.”
“If you can’t get more for the horses than I paid, we will take ’em with us, because if we don’t get this expedition moving soon, we will have to eat them.”
We borrowed two saddle horses from the boat-builders, saddled up, and headed toward Gardinerston. A half-mile down the road we encountered the 1st and 2nd Infantry Battalions and the Rear Guard walking toward Mr. Colburn’s house at an easy pace. I told the leader of each unit, “A Rifleman just ahead will guide you to tonight’s encampment.”
Ten minutes later, we found Colonel Arnold, Mr. Colburn, Mr. Burr, and a host of “Patriot Admirers” enjoying beverages in a tavern near the quay. I could tell from his demeanor, Captain Morgan was struggling to control himself, so I waited outside.
I cannot record the conversation for I was not there. But when Captain Morgan emerged from the tavern twenty minutes later, he said, “Let’s get going to Fort Western.”
Fort Western, Maine
Saturday, September 23rd, 1775
Much to my amazement, the ten-mile long trip up to Fort Western was free of any unexpected danger or drama. Thanks to the leadership and ingenuity of 1st Lt. Humphrey and Pennsylvania Rifle Company Captains Hendricks and Smith, all thirty-five of the Colburn-built batteaux and both our former wagons—turned cargo barges—were water-worthy and ready to go at 3:30 p.m.
There were a few hilarious moments as the Riflemen in each craft experimented with rowing, “pole-pushing” and steering their “riverboats” in “slack water” without capsizing. But in short order they were all headed north up the Kennebec in a long line behind our former lead wagon, now re-christened as “Rifle Cargo #1.”
Local watermen advised Captain Morgan the tide would shift to ebb off Fort Western at 8:30 p.m. He wanted us to be ashore at Fort Western before that happened. We made it by 7:15.
In the deepening dusk it took an “all-hands” effort of ten men on each loaded batteaux—and at least twenty for our two large “Cargo-boats”—to drag the heavy craft out of the water and high enough up the riverbank not to be swept away if the river suddenly flooded.
We were in a perimeter under tents outside the crumbling remains of Fort Western with shallow sanitation ditches dug and watches set for each Advance Guard Company by 8:00 p.m. The challenge for this moonless night: “Sons of!” The password: “Liberty!”
I arose this morning in twilight, well before sunrise—and went to relieve myself in the nearest sanitary ditch, just outside the lines of Capt. Smith’s Pennsylvania Rifle Company. As I turned back toward the perimeter, I tripped and fell over a live creature hunkered low to the ground.
Thinking it was likely an enemy Indian who crept up behind me, I grabbed the figure, pinned him face-down beneath me, pulled out my knife, and said, “Sons of . . .”
There was no response but a light groan. I repeated the challenge: “Sons of . . .” then added, “If you don’t tell me the correct password, I will kill you with this knife.”
At this, a distinctly feminine voice pleaded, “Please sir, don’t kill me. I’m a Patriot. My husband is a member of this Expedition.”
I jumped up, shoved my knife into its scabbard, helped her to her feet, apologized, and told her to accompany me back into the perimeter. She agreed to do so but asked, “May I first do what you just did? I was coming out here to pee and did not know you were already here.”
At 8:00 a.m. Captain Morgan, 1st Lt. Humphrey, both Pennsylvania Rifle Company Captains Hendricks and Smith and I were on camp stools in Capt. Morgan’s tent. By then all attendees knew the young woman I tripped over was Eliza Grier, wife of Sgt. Joseph Grier, a respected member of Captain Smith’s Rifle Company.
“You are certain they are married?” asked Capt. Morgan, looking directly at Capt. Smith.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why shouldn’t I send her back to Newburyport today on the vessels that brought us to Gardinerston?”
Capt. Smith’s response was as surprising as my early morning encounter. “You shouldn’t send her back sir, because you will also have to send back her cousin, Jemima—who is wed to Private James Warner, in Capt. Hendricks Company.”
Capt. Morgan looked at Hendricks who nodded and said, “Sir, both couples married the day before we left Pennsylvania. Both women walked the whole way from Pennsylvania to Cambridge with our companies. They are both aware this is going to be an arduous campaign, but they are both fit and have nursing experience. That’s more than some of the other women in this Expedition have.”
“What other women?”
At this, 1st Lt. Humphrey responded, “Sir, I do not know of any other women in the Advance Guard. . . .”
Looking directly at William and me, he interrupted, “Did you or Nathanael know about these two?”
We both said, “No, sir.”
“Well, what other women are you talking about?”
William continued, “Sir, there are three or four women accompanying Colonel Arnold’s Headquarters. I have seen at least three with the Infantry Battalions. I believe there are two with Major David Hyde’s Quartermaster detachment. It’s likely less than a dozen, total.”
Captain Morgan said nothing for a moment and then, staring out the tent doorway, said very quietly, “I will never forget what happened to the women on the Braddock expedition. . . .”
He drew a deep breath, shook his head as if to clear it and proclaimed, “For now they can stay. I will talk to Colonel Arnold about this when he arrives.”
At noon, Colonel Arnold, his staff, all the Expedition commanders, and Mr. Colburn arrived at our bivouac next to the humble trading post beside the crumbling ruins of Fort Western. They came in a little flotilla of canoes for what was described by the Expedition Command
er as a “Final planning conference before we depart for Quebec.” It was good to see Capt. Febiger again and we stood next to each other during the meeting.
Colonel Arnold began by ordering two scouting parties prepared immediately, one led by Lt. Archibald Steele of Pennsylvania to gather intelligence on the route we will take to Lake Mégantic, and the other led by Lt. Church to confirm the most direct track to The Great Carrying Place.
He directed the two scouting parties to mark Indian trails and places where portage of the batteaux will be necessary and once past Height of Land to plot a safe course down the Chaudière River to the St. Lawrence. The Colonel specified the scouting parties will depart tomorrow and the Advance Guard will follow on Monday, September 25th.
A disagreement then arose when Col. Arnold announced Lieutenant Colonel Greene of the Rhode Island Militia to command the Advance Guard of the Expedition. This was contrary to what we all heard back in Cambridge when he named Captain Morgan as commander of the Advance Guard.
The first to object were Captains Hendricks and Smith, commanding the two Pennsylvania Rifle Companies. They were very frank in expressing their unwillingness to take orders from a militia officer and pointed out the Rifle Companies were the first forces raised by an Act of Congress—and the only Commissioned Continental Army officers on the Expedition were Colonel Arnold and Capt. Morgan.
Rather than create a confrontation in front of Arnold’s staff, subordinates, and the contingent of “Civilian Volunteers,” which was unlikely to end well, Capt. Morgan rose and said, “This is a matter which Colonel Arnold and I will discuss and resolve before we depart Fort Western. For now, I suggest we focus on what must be done to get the “Arnold Expedition” moving to Quebec. Winter is barking like a wolf at our door.”