Again, it is charged that when Putnam and Sullivan visited the extreme left on the 26th "the movements of the enemy plainly disclosed that it was their intention to get into the rear of the Americans by the Jamaica Road," yet nothing was done. The foundation of this is probably a statement of Brodhead's and another by Miles to the effect that these generals might have themselves observed that the enemy were preparing for the Jamaica move. But if the intentions of the latter were so obvious at that time, it is proper to ask why it was not equally obvious on the next morning that they were actually carrying out their intentions, and why Miles and Brodhead did not so report at an early hour. These officers were rightly impressed with the conviction that the enemy would come by way of Jamaica, but it is certain that the enemy made no observable move in that direction from Flatlands, where they had been for three days, until nine o'clock that night. So says Howe. It was clearly in the plan of the British to give our outposts no ground for suspecting a flanking manoeuvre. Their movements were far from being "plainly disclosed." The quotation given by Mr. Bancroft in this connection, namely, that "Washington's order to secure the Jamaica Road was not obeyed," unfortunately appears as original in a "Review of the War" published in 1779 and written by some irresponsible individual in England, who could neither have known what Washington's orders were, nor whether any attempt was made to carry them out.

A further charge is this: "Early in the morning, Putnam was informed that infantry and cavalry were advancing on the Jamaica Road. He gave Washington no notice of the danger; he sent Stirling no order to retreat." This is doubtless on the authority of a letter in Force, 5th Series, vol. i., p. 1195. But how early was Putnam informed? The writer of the letter who brought the word was probably one of Miles' or Brodhead's men, for he tells us that his regiment was dressed in hunting-shirts, and he makes the very important statement that on his way back to his post he met the enemy! The information came too late, for the British were now marching down towards the lines. Sullivan had gone to the Flatbush Pass, where he could understand the situation better than Putnam, and he was the proper officer to give directions to the outposts at that moment.

The charges made by Mr. Dawson have still less foundation. General Putnam is stated never to have reconnoitred the enemy's position. Brodhead, however, states distinctly that he did. "It is also a well-established fact," says this writer, "that no general officer was outside the lines at Brooklyn on the night of the 26th." What is the authority for this? Nixon, Stirling, and Parsons had been successively officers of the day, and presumably did their duty. Parsons, on the morning of the 27th, was on the lower road trying to rally the pickets before Stirling appeared with reinforcements. "The mounted patrols which General Sullivan had established, as well as the guards at some of the passes established by General Greene, were withdrawn." The fact that all the passes were well guarded and a special patrol sent out, is a complete answer to this assertion, so far as the night of the 26th is concerned. In this light the general conclusion arrived at by Mr. Dawson, that "General Putnam paid no attention to the orders of General Washington," cannot be sustained.

With regard to General Sullivan, it is but just to give his own explanation. A year after the battle, he wrote: "I know it has been generally reported that I commanded on Long Island when the actions happened there. This is by no means true; General Putnam had taken the command from me four days before the action. Lord Stirling commanded the main body without the lines; I was to have command under General Putnam within the lines. I was very uneasy about a road through which I had often foretold the enemy would come, but could not persuade others to be of my opinion. I went to the Hill near Flatbush to reconnoitre the enemy, and, with a piquet of four hundred men, was surrounded by the enemy, who had advanced by the very road I had foretold, and which I had paid horsemen fifty dollars for patrolling by night, while I had the command, as I had no foot for the purpose, for which I was never reimbursed, as it was supposed unnecessary." In another letter he adds: "I was so persuaded of the enemy's coming the [Jamaica] route, that I went to examine, and was surrounded by the British army, and after a long and severe engagement was made prisoner." These letters were written when Sullivan was restless under charges brought against him in connection with the defeat at Brandywine—charges which were properly dropped, however—and are not conclusive as to the Long Island affair. His statements are no doubt strictly true, but they in no way affect the main point, namely, did we or did we not have a patrol out on the Jamaica Road on the night of the 26th? We have seen that there was such a patrol, and probably the best that had yet been sent out, and sent out, according to Lieutenant Van Wagenen, by General Sullivan himself.

There are but few references to the question of responsibility in contemporary letters and documents. Gordon blames Sullivan as being over-confident. Miles and Brodhead leave us to infer that this general had much to do with the plan of action, and must be held at least in part responsible. Sullivan, on the other hand, according to Brodhead, blamed Miles for the defeat, as Parsons did. When these officers wrote, they wrote to defend their own conduct, and their testimony is necessarily incomplete so far as others are concerned.

In brief, the case seems to be this: On the night of the 26th we had all the roads guarded. On the morning of the 27th Putnam promptly reinforced the guards on the lower road when the enemy were announced. The arrangements were such that if an attack was made at any of the other points he and Sullivan were to have word of it in ample time. No word came in time from the left, for the reason that those who were to bring it were captured, or surprised, or failed of their duty. Hence the disaster. The dispositions on Long Island were quite as complete as those at Brandywine more than a year later, where we suffered nearly a similar surprise and as heavy a loss. Suppose the very small patrols sent out by Washington and Sullivan to gain information before that battle had been captured, as at Long Island—we should have sustained a greater disaster than at Long Island.

Under this state of facts, to charge Putnam with the defeat of the 27th, in the terms which some writers have employed, is both unjust and unhistorical. That misfortune is not to be clouded with the additional reflection, that it was due to the gross neglect and general incapacity of the officer in command. No facts or inferences justify the charge. No one hinted it at the time; nor did Washington in the least withdraw his confidence from Putnam during the remainder of the campaign.]

What has been said of other defeats may be said with equal truth of this one: if it was a disaster, it was not a disgrace. Even the surprise upon the left discloses no criminal misconduct. In the actual fighting of the day our soldiers stood their ground. Necessarily we suffered heavily in prisoners, but otherwise our loss was inconsiderable. All the light that we have to-day goes to establish the very important fact, originally credited and reported by Washington himself, but which hardly a single historical writer has since ventured to repeat, that at the battle of Long Island the British and Hessians suffered a loss in killed and wounded equal to that inflicted upon the Americans.[158] Howe reported his total casualties at three hundred and sixty-seven officers and soldiers. On the side of the Americans the total loss did not exceed one thousand. About eight hundred, including ninety-one officers, were taken prisoners; not more than six officers and about fifty privates were killed; and less than sixteen officers and one hundred and fifty privates wounded. No frightful slaughter of our troops, as sometimes pictured, occurred during the action. It was a field where the American soldier, in every fair encounter, proved himself worthy of the cause he was fighting for.

[Footnote 158: See note at the close of the chapter.]

* * * * *

To those who fell in the engagement we may render here a grateful tribute, though something more than this is due. Their services and sacrifices are deserving of remembrance rather by a lasting memorial; for men died here who showed not less of individual worth and heroism than others who are immortalized on victorious fields. Thus at the Flatbush Road we find Philip Johnston, colonel of the Jersey battalion, which formed part of the guard there during the night. He was the son of the worthy Judge Samuel Johnston, of the town of Sidney in Hunterdon County. In his youth he had been a student at Princeton, but, dropping his books, he took up the sword for the colonies in the French war, from which he returned with honor. The troubles with Great Britain found him ready again to fight in defence of common rights and his native soil. Parting from his wife and child with touching affection, he took the field with his regiment, and when attacked on Long Island he showed all the qualities which mark the true soldier. A gentleman of high principle, an officer of fine presence, one of the strongest men in the army, he fought near Sullivan with the greatest bravery until he fell mortally wounded. That August 27th was his thirty-fifth birthday.

Equally glorious and regretted was the death of Lieutenant-Colonel Caleb Parry, of Atlee's regiment, which occurred, as already noticed, at an earlier hour and in another part of the field. He too was in the prime of life, and eager to render the country some good service. A representative colonist, descended from an ancient and honorable family long seated in North Wales, and a man of polish and culture, he stood ready for any sacrifice demanded of him at this crisis. Parry came from Chester County, Pennsylvania, leaving a wife and five children, and crossed with his regiment to Long Island four days before the battle. Under what circumstances he fell has been told. As they crossed the line of Greenwood Cemetery to take position at or near "Battle Hill," the little command was greeted with a sudden though harmless volley from the enemy. The men shrunk and fell back, but Atlee rallied and Parry cheered them on, and they gained the hill. It was here, while engaged in an officer's highest duty, turning men to the enemy by his own example, that the fatal bullet pierced his brow. When some future monument rises from Greenwood to commemorate the struggle of this day, it can bear no more fitting line among its inscriptions than this tribute of Brodhead's, "Parry died like a hero."

Captain Edward Veazey, of the Marylanders, belonged to the family of Veazeys who settled in Cecil County, on the eastern shore of that State, and who traced their lineage back to the Norman De Veazies of the eleventh century. The captain was fifty-five years of age, took up the colonial cause at the start, raised the Seventh Independent Company of Maryland troops, and was among the earliest to fall in Stirling's line.

Captain Joseph Jewett, of Huntington's Continentals, perhaps defending himself to the last, even when escape was impossible, was three times stabbed with British bayonets after surrendering his sword. Cared for by a humane surgeon, but still lingering in pain, he died on the morning of the 29th, and was buried in the Bennett orchard, near Twenty-second Street and Third Avenue. He left a family at Lyme, on the Connecticut, where he lived, and from where he went to join the army on the Lexington alarm. A soldier who fought on Long Island remembers him as "an officer much respected and beloved, of elegant and commanding appearance, and of unquestionable bravery."

The officers and men of the artillery, who fought the six pieces we had in the action, covered themselves with honor. They were "the flower" of Knox's regiment, picked for a field fight. Captain Carpenter, of Providence, fell in Stirling's command, leaving a widow to mourn him. Captain John Johnston, of Boston, was desperately wounded, but recovered under the care of Surgeon Eustis. The record which John Callender, of the same place, made for himself is a familiar story. To wipe out the stain of an undeserved sentence passed upon him after Bunker Hill, by which he was cashiered, he rejoined the artillery as a private soldier, and then, as a "cadet," fought his piece on Long Island until the enemy's bayonets were at his breast. Upon his exchange as prisoner a year later, Washington restored him to his rank as captain-lieutenant, and he served honorably to the end of the war. Harmanus Rutgers, one of the patriotic Rutgers brothers in New York, serving, it would seem, as a gunner, was struck in the breast by a cannon-shot, and fell dead at his post. The tradition preserved in his family is that he was the first man killed in the battle. Knox, hearing how well his men had done, wrote to his wife: "I have met with some loss in my regiment. They fought like heroes and are gone to glory."

Of three others known to have been killed during the day, and who probably complete the list of officers, we have no more than the fact that they fell. They were Lieutenant Joseph Jacquet, of Miles' first battalion, and Lieutenants David Sloan and Charles Taylor, of the second battalion—all apparently from Chester County, Pennsylvania. Hardly more than three or four names of the private soldiers who were killed have been preserved, owing doubtless to the fact that, if they were ever known, it was not until long after, when no rolls would show their fate.

To the roll of the dead must be added also the honored name of General Nathaniel Woodhull, of Long Island. On the day after the battle, a party of British light horse, under Oliver De Lancey, rode out on the Jamaica Road and surprised the general at an inn, where without provocation he was cruelly hacked in the head and arm, and carried off a prisoner. He survived until the 20th, when he died at New Utrecht. His loss was greatly regretted, for he was a man of energy and ability, and had the success of the Revolutionary cause most fervently at heart.[159]

[Footnote 159: Mr. Onderdonk, Mr. Thompson, and others have gathered and published all the known incidents respecting the fate of General Woodhull, which are doubtless familiar to those interested in the history of Long Island. See General Scott's brief reference to him in Document 6.]

* * * * *

This battle was regarded at the time as one of very great importance, and the result created a deep impression on both sides of the water. In England they had long been waiting for the news, and the king became depressed at the British delay in moving; in addition, the first reports, coming by way of France, were unfavorable. But at last, at three o'clock on the morning of October 10th, Major Cuyler, of Howe's staff, reached the government with the official accounts of the victory. Immediately, as Walpole tells us, the Court was filled with "an extravagance of joy." The relief was so great that it was displayed with "the utmost ostentation." The king at once determined to send Howe "a red riband;" and Lord Mansfield, who had thrown the weight of his great legal abilities against America, was created an earl. The Mayor and Corporation of York voted an address to his Majesty "on the victory at Long Island;" at Leeds they rang the bells, lighted windows, fired cannon, and started a huge bonfire which made the town "quite luminous;" and at Halifax, Colne, Huddersfield, and many other places, similar rejoicings were held. At Limerick Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell ordered the garrison under arms, and fired three volleys "on account of the success of his Majesty's troops at Long Island;" and, for the same reason, in the evening "a number of ladies and gentlemen were elegantly entertained at dinner by the bishop." From Paris Silas Deane wrote to Congress: "The want of instructions or intelligence or remittances, with the late check on Long Island, has sunk our credit to nothing." In Amsterdam, the centre of exchange for all Europe, English stocks rose; but the Dutch, with characteristic shrewdness, failed to accept "our misfortune" as final, and took the opportunity to sell out. In London Tory circles they considered the American war as practically over, and some began to talk of new schemes of colonial government.

As for America, the defeat, coupled with the subsequent retreat, everywhere carried alarm and keen disappointment. Greene speaks of the "panic" in the county. But at the same time many brave voices were raised to counteract despondency. Parsons, in the army, wrote: "I think the trial of that day far from being any discouragement, but in general our men behaved with firmness." Bartlett, in Congress, sent word home to New Hampshire that he hoped the event would only make our generals more careful in their future operations. "We have lost a battle and a small island," said Dr. Rush, of Philadelphia, in one of the sessions a few days later, "but we have not lost a State. Why then should we be discouraged? Or why should we be discouraged even if we had lost a State? If there were but one State left, still that one should peril all for independence." "The panic may seize whom it will," wrote John Adams; "it shall not seize me." But the grandest words inspired by the pervading anxiety were those penned by Abigail Adams, the noble wife of the Massachusetts delegate. "We have had many stories," she wrote from Braintree, September 9th, "concerning engagements upon Long Island this week, of our lines being forced and of our troops returning to New York. Particulars we have not yet obtained. All we can learn is that we have been unsuccessful there; having many men as prisoners, among whom are Lord Stirling and General Sullivan. But if we should be defeated, I think we shall not be conquered. A people fired, like the Romans, with love of their country and of liberty, a zeal for the public good, and a noble emulation of glory, will not be disheartened or dispirited by a succession of unfortunate events. But, like them, may we learn by defeat the power of becoming invincible!"

This was the true inspiration of the hour. It was this that sustained Washington and the strong men of the country through all the dark period that followed. The disaster of the 27th was a disciplinary experience. It was but the first of a series of blows that were to harden us for future endurance. The event was accepted in this spirit by all who had taken up the cause in earnest; and in this light the memory of the day deserves to be forever celebrated and perpetuated. Here, on Long Island, all was done that could be done, for we had met the enemy at the sea. Here America made her first stand against England's first great effort to subdue her; and here her resolution to continue resistance was first tested and tempered in the fire of battle.

* * * * *

THE LOSSES AT THE BATTLE.—So many widely different estimates have been made as to the extent of the American loss on Long Island, that it becomes a matter of historical interest to fix the actual figures, if possible, beyond dispute.

The first official reference to the matter occurs in the letter which Washington directed Colonel Harrison, his secretary, to write to Congress on the evening of the battle. Nothing definite on this point being known at that hour, Harrison, after announcing the attack of the enemy, and the retreat of the troops into the Brooklyn lines, could only make the vague report that the American loss was "pretty considerable." On Thursday morning, the 29th, at "half after four A.M.," Washington himself wrote to Hancock that he was still uncertain how far the army had suffered. On Saturday, the 31st, he wrote again, and in this letter gave an estimate in figures. This was the only report he made to Congress in the matter, except indirectly. "Nor have I," he writes, "been yet able to obtain an exact account of our loss; we suppose it from seven hundred to a thousand killed and taken." In subsequent public and private letters to his brother, to Governor Trumbull, General Schuyler, and the Massachusetts Assembly, Washington did not vary these figures materially (except to make the estimate closer, about 800), and they stand, therefore, as his official return of the casualties of that day.

Sir William Howe's report, on the other hand, presented altogether a different showing. It left no room for doubt as to the extent of the British victory. Dated September 3d, seven days after the affair, it contained all those particulars of events up to that time which a successful general is well aware will be received with special satisfaction by his government. The landing at Gravesend, the occupation of Flatbush, the skilful march of the flanking column, the bravery of the troops, and the complete success of the entire plan of action were mentioned in order; while a detailed statement and estimate of the losses on either side, including a tabulated return of prisoners taken, only fortified the impression that a most damaging defeat had been served upon the Americans. Against Washington's estimate of a total of one thousand or less for his own loss, Howe reported that the enlisted men he captured alone numbered one thousand and six, and that in addition he took ninety-one commissioned officers, of whom three were generals, three colonels, four lieutenant-colonels, three majors, eighteen captains, forty-three lieutenants, eleven ensigns, one adjutant, three surgeons, and two volunteers; and he "computed" that in killed, wounded, and drowned, the Americans lost two thousand two hundred more. On the part of the British, Howe reported five officers and fifty-six men killed, twelve officers and two hundred and fifty-five men wounded, and one officer and thirty men prisoners and missing. The Hessians lost two men killed, three officers and twenty-three men wounded. Howe's total loss, in a word, was made to appear at less than four hundred; Washington's full three thousand three hundred.

The apparent exactness of this report has secured it, in general, against close analysis. English historians, almost without exception, quote it as it stands, while there are American writers who respect it so far as to pronounce Washington's report clearly, and even purposely, inaccurate. Thus the most recent English history of this period says: "The Americans fled in confusion, leaving upwards of three thousand killed, wounded, and prisoners, including their three generals of division;" and in a note the writer adds: "Washington's estimate of the loss on both sides was grossly incorrect. In his letter to Congress of the 30th August, giving a very meagre and evasive account of the action, he says that his loss in killed and prisoners was from 700 to 1000; and that he had reason to believe the enemy had suffered still more. This would seem to be a wilful misrepresentation to prevent the public alarm which might have been caused by the knowledge of his real loss; were it not that in a private letter to his brother, three weeks afterwards, he makes a similar statement. General Howe's returns of prisoners, and of his own killed and wounded, are precise." (History of England during the Reign of George the Third. By the Right Hon. William Massey, 1865.) Among Brooklyn writers, Mr. Field asserts that Washington concealed the actual extent of his loss, and Dr. Stiles accepts the British report as it stands. Marshall puts the American loss at over 1000; Irving, 2000; Lossing, 1650; Field, 2000; Sparks, 1100; Bancroft, 800; Carrington, 970. Stedman, the earliest British historian, gives 2000, while Adolphus, Jesse, and Massey, who cover the reign of George III., blindly follow Howe and give over 3000 for the American loss.

There is but one explanation of this wide discrepancy between the British and American returns, namely: Washington's original estimate at its largest limit—one thousand, killed, wounded, and prisoners—was almost precisely correct.

Of this there can be no question whatever, the proof being a matter of record. Thus, on the 8th of October, Washington issued the following order: "The General desires the commanding officers of each regiment or corps will give in a list of the names and the officers and men who were killed, taken, or missing in the action of the 27th of August on Long Island and since that period. He desires the returns may be correct, &c." (Force). A large number of these lists are preserved in Force, 5th series, vol. iii., and from these we obtain the losses of the following regiments: Hitchcock's, total loss, one officer and nine men; Little's, three men; Huntington's, twenty-one officers and one hundred and eighty-six men; Wyllys', one officer and nine men; Tyler, three men; Ward, three men; Chester, twelve men; Gay, four men; Lasher, three officers. Smallwood's lost, according to Gist, twelve officers and two hundred and forty-seven men; Haslet, according to his own letters, two officers and twenty-five men; Johnston's New Jersey, two officers and less than twenty-five men, the rolls before and after the battle showing no greater difference in the strength of the regiment; Miles' two battalions, sixteen officers and about one hundred and sixty men (Document 61); Atlee, eleven officers and seventy-seven men. (Ibid.) No official report of the losses in Lutz's, Kachlein's, and Hay's detachments or the artillery can be found, but to give their total casualties at one hundred and fifty officers and men is probably a liberal estimate. Lutz lost six officers (all prisoners); Kachlein not more; Hay, one; the artillery, three. The regiments named in the foregoing list include all from which Howe reported that he took officers prisoners, from which it is safe to conclude that these were all that lost any. No others are mentioned as having been engaged. These figures show in round numbers a total of one thousand, and this was our total loss, according to official returns in nearly every case.

How many of these, in the next place, were killed and wounded? If we are to credit certain Hessian and British accounts, as well as those of our own local historians, the battle-field on Long Island was a scene of carnage, a pen in which our men were slaughtered without mercy. The confused strife, says one writer, "is too terrible for the imagination to dwell upon." "An appalling massacre," says another, "thus closed the combat." "The forest," writes a Hessian officer, "was a scene of horror; there were certainly two thousand killed and wounded lying about." Lord Howe himself, as we have seen, "computed" that the American loss in killed and wounded alone was two thousand three hundred. But a striking commentary on this computation is not only the total omission on his part to mention how many of this very large number he buried on the field, but the important admission he makes that not more than sixty-seven wounded American officers and soldiers fell into his hands! Where were the twenty-two hundred other maimed and fallen rebels? Obviously, and as Howe must have well known, the Americans could carry few if any of their dead with them on their precipitate retreat, nor could any but the slightly hurt of the wounded make their escape. Full two thousand, by this calculation, must have been left upon the field. Who buried them? Were they the victims of the supposed frightful slaughter? Did the British general purposely give an evasive estimate to cover up the inhumanity which would thus have forever stained the glory of his victory? Far from it. That "computation" has no basis to stand upon; but, on the contrary, our loss in killed and wounded was not greater than the enemy's, but most probably less.

This statement will bear close examination. On the 19th of September, after he must have been able to satisfy himself as to the extent of the defeat on Long Island, the commander-in-chief wrote to the Massachusetts Assembly that he had lost about eight hundred men, "more than three fourths of which were taken prisoners." He wrote the same thing to others. So Washington felt authorized to state positively that we lost in killed and wounded that day not over two hundred men and officers. "The enemy's loss in killed," he added, "we could never ascertain; but have many reasons to believe that it was pretty considerable, and exceeded ours a good deal." General Parsons, who saw as much of the field as any other officer, wrote to John Adams two days after the battle: "Our loss in killed and wounded is inconsiderable." General Scott, writing to John Jay, a week later, could say: "What our loss on Long Island was I am not able to estimate. I think from the best accounts we must have killed many of the enemy." Colonel Douglas wrote, August 31st: "The enemy surrounded a large detachment of our army, took many, killed some and the rest got off.... By the best account we killed more of them than they did of us. But they took the most prisoners." Lieutenant-Colonel Chambers, who was in the way of gathering many particulars from the Pennsylvanians who escaped, says: "Our men behaved as bravely as men ever did; but it is surprising that, with the superiority of numbers, they were not cut to pieces.... Our loss is chiefly in prisoners." Lieutenant-Colonel Brodhead, who had to retreat among the last over the very ground which others have marked out as the scene of the massacre, as the site where "lay nearly one thousand men, slain in the shock of battle, or by subsequent murder" (Field)—Brodhead says: "I retreated to the lines, having lost out of the whole battalion, about one hundred men, officers included, which, as they were much scattered, must be chiefly prisoners.... No troops could behave better than the Southern, for though they seldom engaged less than five to one, they frequently repulsed the Enemy with great Slaughter, and I am confident that the number of killed and wounded on their side, is greater than on ours, notwithstanding we had to fight them front and rear under every disadvantage." Colonel Silliman, of Connecticut, who appears to have made particular inquiries in the matter, wrote, September 10th: "I think upon the best information I can get that we are about 1000 men the worse for that action. The Enemy say they have about 800 of them prisoners. We have about 50 of them in the hospital wounded. Of the other 150 'tis said that in the engagement a considerable number of the riflemen deserted and went over to the enemy and some no doubt escaped towards the other end of the Island. On the whole I do not think we had 50 men killed in the action." (MS. letter.) These are statements made by officers who were present at the battle, and who wrote within a few days of the event. They all, with many others, reach the same conclusion that the enemy suffered in killed and wounded as much if not more than the Americans. Their testimony, moreover, is strengthened by what we know directly and indirectly from the returns and other sources. The loss in officers, of which we have exact figures, is one basis of calculation. Ninety-one, as already stated, were taken prisoners, of whom nine were reported wounded in Howe's return. Among these were General Woodhull, Colonel Johnston, and Captain Jewett, all three mortally wounded, and Captain Bowie and Lieutenant Butler, of the Marylanders; Captain Johnston, of the artillery; Captain Peebles, of Miles', and Lieutenant Makepeace, of Huntington's. [Colonel Johnston is usually mentioned as having been killed on the field. But Howe's return gives one New Jersey colonel prisoner, and Elking's Hessian account states that he was wounded after being made prisoner.] Among officers known to be wounded, not captured, were Major McDonough, Lieutenants Course and Anderson, of the Delawares; Lieutenant Hughes, of Hitchcock's; and Captain Farmer, of Miles'. Lieutenant Patterson, of Hay's detachment, was either killed or captured (Colonel Cunningham's return). The officers killed were Lieutenant-Colonel Parry, Captain Carpenter, Captain Veazey, and Lieutenants Sloan, Jacquet, and Taylor. Various accounts state that Colonel Rutgers, Lieutenant-Colonel Eppes, Major Abeel (of Lasher's), Captain Fellows, and Lieutenant Moore (of Pennsylvania) were killed, but there is an error in each case, all these officers being reported alive at different dates after the battle. We have, then, twenty-one killed or wounded (six only killed on the field) among the American officers engaged in the action. If, as we have a right to assume, the same proportion held among the enlisted men, our total loss in killed and wounded could not have exceeded two hundred or two hundred and fifty, or more than one hundred less than the enemy's loss. Parsons and Atlee write that they lost but two or three. Miles says that in one of his skirmishes he lost a number of men, but nearly all were made prisoners. Little's regiment lost one killed; Hitchcock's the same. The five companies of Smallwood's battalion that attacked Cornwallis lost but one officer wounded, or at the most one killed and one wounded, and there is no reason to suppose that the men suffered very heavily. The loss among the Delawares was nearly all in prisoners. Lutz had six officers taken, but none killed or wounded; Hay lost one officer, either killed or prisoner. In Kachlein's detachment it is certain that the lieutenant-colonel, major, adjutant, three captains, and three lieutenants were not killed, which leaves little room for casualties in a party of not over four or five companies. So of all the other regiments engaged, they suffered but slightly in killed or wounded.

Howe's list of prisoners was undoubtedly swelled by captures among the Long Island militia and citizen Whigs after the battle. He includes General Woodhull and two lieutenants, for instance, who were not taken at the battle but on the day following, and who, as Washington says, were "never arranged" in his army.

The reports of the slaughter and massacre of our troops current in the enemy's camp at the time were greatly exaggerated. Some of our men were probably cut down most wantonly in the pursuit through the woods, both by British and Hessians, but the number was small. It is a noticeable and significant fact that the American accounts make no mention of any such wholesale cruelty, and certainly our soldiers would have been the first to call attention to it. That word "massacre" should have no place in any accurate description of the battle.



CHAPTER V.

THE RETREAT TO NEW YORK.

The situation at the Brooklyn lines was relieved on the 29th by the famous retreat of our army to New York. If Howe had surprised us by an unexpected manoeuvre on the 27th, Washington was now to surprise the British with a different manoeuvre, conducted with greater skill. "A fine retreat," says Jomini, "should meet with a reward equal to that given for a great victory." History assigns such a reward to Washington at Long Island.

This success—the extrication of the army from what was soon felt to be a dangerous position—was not to be achieved without a previous two days' experience of great hardship, trial, and despondency on the part of the troops; and unceasing anxiety and watchfulness on the part of the commander-in-chief. The night of the 27th had closed cheerlessly on the devoted Americans. The hills had been wrested from them; many of their best officers and soldiers were slain or prisoners; before them stood the whole British army, flushed with success, and liable at any hour to rush upon their works, and in their rear flowed a deep, wide river.

Washington realized the position the moment of the retreat from the passes, and immediately took measures to guard against further disaster. Satisfied that Howe had his whole force with him, and that an attack was not to be apprehended at any other point, he ordered forward more troops to replace his losses and strengthen the lines. Mifflin brought down from Harlem Heights the two well-drilled Pennsylvania regiments under Colonels Magaw and Shee, with some others; and Glover's Massachusetts was sent on from Fellows' brigade. These all crossed to Long Island early on the morning of the 28th. At the same time, the afternoon of the 27th, Washington sent word to General Mercer in New Jersey to march all the forces under his command "immediately to Powle's Hook";[160] they might be needed in New York, they might be needed on Long Island. By the morning of the 28th, the commander-in-chief had drawn to the Brooklyn lines all the troops that could be spared from other points, and all with which he proposed to resist the British if they attempted to carry his position by storm. He had on that side the largest and best part of his army. The whole of Greene's division was there, the whole of Spencer's, half of Sullivan's, one third of Putnam's, and a part of Heath's—in all not less than thirty-five regiments or detachments, which numbered together something over nine thousand five hundred men fit for duty.[161]

[Footnote 160: This order was sent at two o'clock through General Wooster, then temporarily in New York, and Mercer received it in the evening near Newark. He sent word at once to the militia at Amboy, Woodbridge, and Elizabethtown to march to Powle's Hook. Force, 5th Series, vol. ii.]

[Footnote 161: A close analysis of the returns of September 12th, estimating all additions or reductions which should be made since the battle, shows that this was about the number on Long Island at this date and at the time of the retreat. The brigades now there were Nixon's, Heard's, Parson's, Wadsworth's, Stirling's, Scott's, two regiments of Mifflin's, one at least of McDougall's (Webb's), Glover's, and Fellows', the Long Island militia, artillery, rangers, and several independent companies. We know at what part of the lines some of these troops were posted. Greene's four old regiments doubtless occupied the forts. Varnum was at Red Hook; Little at Fort Greene; Hitchcock at Fort Putnam, and Hand with him there and in the redoubt on the left. Forman's New Jersey had been at Fort Box. Three of Scott's battalions were assigned to the centre, where the breastworks crossed the Jamaica Road. Magaw, Shee, and Glover guarded the line from Fort Putnam to the Wallabout; Silliman was at the "northern part" of the works, probably on the right of Fort Putnam; Gay's was between Fort Box and the Marsh; Douglas watched the extreme right in the woods at the mouth of Gowanus Creek; and there was a "reserve," which perhaps included among others the remnants of Stirling's shattered brigade. Encircling them a mile or a mile and a half distant in the edge of the woods, lay the British army with tents already pitched in many places. North and south of the Jamaica Road, just below Bedford, was Howe's main column; within and west of Prospect Park were the Hessians; and on the right, Grant's division bivouacked along the Gowanus Road.]

Had all things been relatively equal, the Americans within the lines, according to military experience, should have been well able to hold that front. But there was a total inequality of conditions. The enemy were thoroughly equipped, disciplined, and provided for. They were an army of professional soldiers, superior to any that could be brought against them the world over. Thus far they had carried everything before them, and were eager to achieve still greater victories. Behind the Brooklyn works stood a poorly armed, badly officered, and for the most part untrained mass of men, hurriedly gathered into the semblance of an army. The events of the previous day, moreover, had greatly depressed their spirits. Not a few of those who had been engaged in or witnessed the battle were badly demoralized. To make matters worse, the very elements seemed to combine against them. The two days they were still to remain on the island were days of "extraordinary wet." It rained almost continuously, and much of the time heavily. No fact is better attested than this. August 28th, writes Colonel Little, "weather very rainy;" "29th, very rainy." Major Tallmadge speaks of the fatigue as having been aggravated by the "heavy rain." "The heavy rain which fell two days and nights without intermission, etc.," said the council which voted to retreat. Pastor Shewkirk in his diary notes the weather particularly: "Wednesday 28th," he writes, ... "in the afternoon we had extraordinary heavy rains and thunder." The flashes of the cannons were intermixed with flashes of lightning. On the 29th, "in the afternoon, such heavy rain fell again as can hardly be remembered." To all this deluge our soldiers were exposed with but little shelter. Necessity required that they should be at the lines, and constantly on the watch, ready to repel any attempt to storm them. When they lay down in the trenches at brief intervals for rest, they kept their arms from the wet as they could. Cooking was out of the question, and the men were compelled to take up with the unaccustomed fare of hard biscuits and raw pork. Their wretched plight is referred to in more than one of the letters of the day. Writes General Scott: "You may judge of our situation, subject to almost incessant rains, without baggage or tents, and almost without victuals or drink, and in some part of the lines the men were standing up to their middles in water." Captain Olney puts it on record that "the rain fell in such torrents that the water was soon ankle deep in the fort. Yet with all these inconveniences, and a powerful enemy just without musket-shot, our men could not be kept awake." Captain Graydon, of Shee's Pennsylvanians, says in his well-known "Memoirs:" "We had no tents to screen us from the pitiless pelting, nor, if we had them, would it have comported with the incessant vigilance required to have availed ourselves of them, as, in fact, it might be said that we lay upon our arms during the whole of our stay upon the island. In the article of food we were little better off." Under the circumstances could Washington's force have withstood the shock of a determined assault by the enemy?

In spite, however, of weather, hunger, and fatigue, there was many a brave man in the American camp who kept up heart and obeyed all orders with spirit. One thing is certain, the British were not permitted to suspect the distressed condition of our army. Our pickets and riflemen, thrown out in front of the works, put on a bold face. On the 28th there was skirmishing the greater part of the day, and in the evening, as Washington reports, "it was pretty smart." Writing from the trenches on the 29th, Colonel Silliman says: "Our enemy have encamped in plain sight of our camp at the distance of about a mile and a half. We have had no general engagement yet, but no day passes without some smart and hot skirmishes between different parties, in which the success is sometimes one way and sometimes another. We are in constant expectation of a general battle; no one can be here long without getting pretty well acquainted with the whistling of cannon and musket shot." Scarcely any particulars of these encounters[162] are preserved, though one of them, at least, appears to have been quite an important affair. The enemy had determined to approach the lines by regular siege rather than hazard an assault, and late in the afternoon of the 28th they advanced in some force to break ground for the first parallel. The point selected was doubtless the high ground between Vanderbilt and Clinton avenues, on the line of De Kalb. As to what occurred we have but the briefest account, and that is from the pen of Colonel Little. "On the morning of the 28th," he writes, "the enemy were encamped on the heights in front of our encampment. Firing was kept up on both sides from the right to the left. Firing on both sides in front of Fort Putnam. About sunset the enemy pushed to recover the ground we had taken (about 100 rods) in front of the fort. The fire was very hot; the enemy gave way, and our people recovered the ground. The firing ceased, and our people retired to the fort. The enemy took possession again, and on the morning of the 30th [29th] had a breastwork there 60 rods long and 150 rods distant from Fort Putnam." It was this move of the British, more than any incident since the battle, that determined Washington's future course.

[Footnote 162: In vol. ii. of the L.I. Hist. Society's "Memoirs," the author, Mr. Field, devotes pages 254-258 to the skirmishing of some Connecticut soldiers on the extreme right on the other side of Gowanus Creek, which appears to him to have been rash and foolhardy, and strangely in contrast with what also appears to him to have been an exhibition of cowardice on their part the day before. The narrative from which the incidents are taken (Martin's) shows no such singular inconsistency in the conduct of these men. This was Colonel Douglas' regiment, and, as Martin himself says, it moved promptly under orders from the ferry to the right to cover Stirling's retreat. "Our officers," he writes, "pressed forward towards a creek, where a large party of Americans and British were engaged." They very properly did not halt to help a company of artillerymen drag their pieces along. The skirmish on the following day was nothing remarkable in its way. It was just such brushes as the men engaged in that Washington, on Graydon's authority, encouraged. The regiment displayed no particular rashness on the 28th, nor any cowardice on the 27th—that is, if Martin is to be credited.]

During all these trying hours since the defeat on the 27th, the most conspicuous figure to be seen, now at one point and now at another of the threatened lines, was that of the commander-in-chief. Wherever his inspiring presence seemed necessary, there he was to be found. He cheered the troops night and day. All that the soldiers endured, he endured. For forty-eight hours, or the whole of the 28th and 29th, he took no rest whatever, and was hardly once off his horse. As he rode among the men in the storm he spoke to some in person, and everywhere he gave directions, while his aids were as tireless as their Chief in assisting him.

But circumstanced as the army was, it was inevitable that the question should come up: Can the defence of the Brooklyn front be continued without great hazard? It could not have escaped the notice of a single soldier on that side, that if, with the river in their rear, the enemy should succeed in penetrating the lines, or the fleet be able to command the crossing, they would all be lost. There was no safety but in retreat; and for twenty-four hours from the morning of the 29th, all the energies of the commander-in-chief were directed towards making the retreat successful.

To few incidents of the Revolution does greater interest attach than to this final scene in the operations on Long Island. The formal decision to abandon this point was made by a council of war, held late in the day of the 29th, at the house of Phillip Livingston, then absent as a member of the Continental Congress at Philadelphia. The mansion made historic by this event stood on the line of Hicks Street, just south of Joralemon.[163] There were present at the council, the commander-in-chief, Major-Generals Putnam and Spencer, and Brigadier-Generals Mifflin, McDougall, Parsons, Scott, Wadsworth, and Fellows. As far as known, Scott alone of these generals has left us any thing in regard to what transpired on the occasion beyond the final result. He preserves the interesting fact that when the proposition to retreat was presented it took him by surprise and he as suddenly objected to it, "from an aversion to giving the enemy a single inch of ground." It was the soil of his own State. As a member of the New York Convention and of the Committee of Safety, and now as a general officer, he had spent months in uninterrupted preparations to defend that soil, and on the first impulse of the moment the thought of yielding any more of it to the invaders was not to be entertained. But he was soon "convinced by unanswerable reasons," and the vote of the council was unanimous for retreat. Eight separate reasons were embodied in the decision. First. A defeat had been sustained on the 27th, and the woods lost where it was proposed to make "a principal stand." Second. The loss in officers and men had occasioned great confusion and discouragement among the troops. Third. The rain had injured the arms and much of the ammunition, and the soldiers were so worn out, that it was feared that they could not be kept at the lines by any order. Fourth. The enemy appeared to be endeavoring to get their ships into the East River to cut off communication with New York, but the wind as yet had not served them. Fifth. There were no obstructions sunk in the Channel between Long and Governor's Island, and the council was assured by General McDougall, "from his own nautic experience," that small ships could sail up by that channel; the hulks, also, sunk between Governor's Island and the Battery were regarded as insufficient obstructions for that passage. Sixth. Though the lines were fortified by several strong redoubts, the breastworks were weak, being "abattised with brush" only in some places, and the enemy might break through them. Seventh. The divided state of the army made a defence precarious. Eighth. Several British men-of-war had worked their way into Flushing Bay from the Sound, and with their assistance the enemy could cross a force to the mainland in Westchester County, and gain the American rear in the vicinity of King's Bridge. In view of these considerations a retreat was considered imperative.

[Footnote 163: See Document 6, in which General Scott says: "I was summoned to a council of war at Mr. Phillip Livingston's house on Thursday, 29th ult., etc."]

This was the official record of the council's action as afterwards transmitted to Congress. It is not to be inferred, however, that retreat was not thought of, or that nothing was done to effect it until the council met. That Washington had foreseen the necessity of the move, that he discussed it with others, and that he had already begun the necessary preparations, is obvious both from the record and from all that occurred during the day. The council did no more than to coincide in his views and confirm his judgment.[164]

[Footnote 164: ORIGIN OF THE RETREAT.—Precisely when and why Washington came to a determination in his own mind to retreat has been made the subject of a somewhat nice historical inquiry. Gordon gives one story; Mr. William B. Reed, biographer of Colonel Reed, gives another; and Mr. Bancroft, General Carrington, and others indulge in more or less extended criticisms on the point. Gordon's account is the most probable and the best supported.

Whatever Washington may have thought of the situation on Long Island after the defeat, it is enough to know that he immediately reinforced himself there, and that on the 27th and 28th he made no preparations to withdraw to New York. It far from follows, however, that he had concluded to stay and fight it out "on that line" at all hazards. He was acting on the defensive, and was necessarily obliged to guide himself largely by the movements of the enemy. On Long Island, therefore, he could only be on the watch, and, like a prudent general, decide according to circumstances. Up to the morning of the 29th he was still watching—watching not only the enemy, but his own army also. In his letter to Congress, written at "half after 4 o'clock A.M." of this date, he gives no intimation of a retreat, but rather leaves that body to infer that he proposed to remain where he was. He speaks, for instance, of expecting tents during the day to make the troops more comfortable. On the same morning Reed wrote: "We hope to be able to make a good stand, as our lines are pretty strong;" and he doubtless reflected the views of his Chief at the time.

The two particular dangers now to which the army was exposed were the danger of having its communication with New York cut off by the ships, and the danger of being approached by the enemy in front by siege operations, which the army was not prepared to meet. The first danger had existed ever since the arrival of the enemy, and had been provided for. All the batteries on Governor's Island and on both sides of the East River had been built to guard against it. In addition, ships had been sunk in the channel. Washington accordingly must have thoroughly canvassed the risks he ran in regard to his communications. These alone had not decided him to retreat. On the morning of the 29th, however, he first became aware of the second danger. It was not until then that the enemy fully developed their intention of advancing by trenches. After working all night, as Howe reports, they had thrown up by morning, as Little reports, a parallel sixty rods long and one hundred and fifty rods distant from Fort Putnam. Reed wrote, "They are intrenching at a small distance." In twenty-four hours at the farthest they would have come within very close range, and the hazardous alternative would have been forced upon us to attempt to drive them out of their own works. Washington well knew that, in view of the condition of his men and the great disparity of numbers, this could not be done. When, therefore, he became assured of Howe's intentions he acted promptly—he determined to retreat; and this determination he reached early on the morning of the 29th.

This is substantially the theory which Gordon presents as a fact, and it is most consistent with fact. Gordon's account is this: "The victorious army encamped in the front of the American works in the evening; and on the 28th at night broke ground in form about 4 or 500 yards distant from a redoubt which covered the left of the Americans. The same day Gen. Mifflin crossed over from New York with 1000 men; at night he made an offer to Gen. Washington of going the rounds, which was accepted. He observed the approaches of the enemy, and the forwardness of their batteries; and was convinced that no time was to be lost. The next morning he conversed with the General upon the subject, and said, 'You must either fight or retreat immediately. What is your strength?' The General answered, 'Nine thousand.' The other replied, 'It is not sufficient, we must therefore retreat.' They were both agreed as to the calling of a Council of war; and Gen. Mifflin was to propose a retreat. But as he was to make that proposal, lest his own character should suffer, he stipulated, that if a retreat should be agreed upon, he would command the rear; and if an action the van."

The fact that Mifflin was given the command of the rear on the retreat, and the fact that he sent the order to Heath that morning to send down all the boats from King's Bridge, lend the highest probability to Gordon's version of the story. Parsons, who was one of the members of the council, mentions this particularly as one of the reasons for withdrawing, namely, that the enemy were "not disposed to storm our lines, but set down to make regular approaches to us." Reed also puts as much stress on this point as any other. Giving the reasons for the retreat to Governor Livingston, he said: "The enemy at the same time possessed themselves of a piece of ground very advantageous and which they had [fortified]. We were therefore reduced to the alternative of retiring to this place or going out with [troops] to drive them off." Washington, too, is to be quoted. In his letter to Trumbull, September 6th, he writes: "As the main body of the enemy had encamped not far from our lines, and as I had reason to believe they intended to force us from them by regular approaches, which the nature of the ground favoured extremely, and at the same time meant, by the ships of war, to cut off the communication between the City and Island, and by that means keep our men divided and unable to oppose them anywhere, by the advice of the General officers, on the night of the 29th, I withdrew our troops from thence without any loss of men and but little baggage."

William B. Reed's account (Reed's Life of Reed) is to the effect, briefly, that a heavy fog settled over Long Island on the 29th, and that during the day Colonel Reed, Colonel Grayson, and General Mifflin rode to Red Hook inspecting the lines. While at the Hook, "a shift of wind" cleared the fog from the harbor, enabling the officers to catch a glimpse of the fleet at the Narrows. From certain movements of boats they inferred that the ships would sail up with the favorable breeze if it held until the tide turned and the fog cleared off. They immediately hurried to Washington, informed him of the impending danger, and induced him to call a council and order a retreat. Mr. Bancroft, however, has shown very thoroughly that this account cannot be accepted, because the fog did not come up until the morning of the 30th, and no change of wind occurred. Colonel Reed himself says in the Livingston letter, written only the next morning, that the enemy's fleet were attempting every day to get up to town with "the wind ahead"—thus directly contradicting his biographer. The Reed account has several errors of detail, one being the statement that the Red Hook battery had been badly damaged by the guns of the Roebuck on the 27th. It would be nearer the truth to say that it was not hit at all. The fleet could do nothing that day; as Admiral Howe reports, the Roebuck was "the only ship that could fetch high enough to the northward to exchange a few random shot with the battery on Red Hook."

In a word, Washington, after receiving Mifflin's report in regard to the approaches of the enemy, and probably other reports from Grayson, Reed, and others in regard to the general condition of the troops (for instance, Colonel Shee's uneasiness, referred to by Graydon), found that the moment had come for decision. That decision was to retreat that night; and during the forenoon, several hours before the council met, he issued secret orders for the concentration of boats at the ferry, as described in the text.]

The first thing necessary was to provide all the transportation available in order to accomplish the retreat in the shortest time possible after beginning it. There were boats at the Brooklyn ferry and across at New York, but these were too few for the purpose. Accordingly, on the forenoon of the 29th, Washington sent an order through Mifflin to General Heath at King's Bridge to the following effect:

LONG ISLAND, August 29th, 1776.

DEAR GENERAL—We have many battalions from New Jersey which are coming over to relieve others here. You will please therefore to order every flat bottomed boat and other craft at your post, fit for transporting troops, down to New York as soon as possible. They must be manned by some of Colonel Hutchinson's men and sent without the least delay. I write by order of the General. I am Affectionately Yours

MIFFLIN.

At about the same time, Colonel Trumbull, the commissary-general, was directed to carry a verbal order to Assistant Quartermaster Hughes at New York, "to impress every kind of water craft from Hell Gate on the Sound to Spuyten Duyvil Creek that could be kept afloat and that had either sails or oars, and have them all in the east harbor of the City by dark."[165] These two orders were carried out with great energy, promptness, and secrecy by all who had any part in their execution. Heath "immediately complied" with what Mifflin had written, and sent down all his boats under Hutchinson's men from Salem, who, like Glover's from Marblehead, were, many of them, the best of sailors. He brooked the less delay, perhaps, because he saw at once that Washington's "real intention" was, not to be reinforced from New Jersey, but to retreat from Long Island.[166] Hughes, on his part, was untiring, and rendered the greatest service. He would have been mistaken this day rather for the master of a military school, than for what he had been—the master of a classical one. For twenty-two hours, as his biographer tells us, he never dismounted from his horse, but superintended the collection of the vessels from all points, and at evening had them ready for their purpose.[167]

[Footnote 165: Memorial of Colonel Hugh Hughes. Leake's Life of General Lamb.]

[Footnote 166: Heath's Memoirs.]

[Footnote 167: There is an interesting letter of Washington's preserved in the Hughes Memorial, which adds light on this point. Eight years after the event, when Hughes needed some official certificate showing his authority to impress all the craft he could find, the general replied to him as follows:

"My memory is not charged with the particulars of the verbal order which you say was delivered to you through Col. Joseph Trumbull, on the 27th, August, 1776, 'for impressing all the sloops, boats, and water craft from Spyhten Duyvel, in the Hudson, to Hell Gate, in the Sound.' I recollect that it was a day which required the utmost exertion, particularly in the Quarter-Master's department, to accomplish the retreat which was intended, under cover of the succeeding night; and that no delay or ceremony could be admitted in the execution of the plan. I have no doubt, therefore, of your having received orders to the effect, and to the extent which you have mentioned; and you are at liberty to adduce this in testimony thereof. It will, I presume, supply the place of a more formal certificate, and is more consonant with my recollection of the transactions of that day." It appears from this that Washington remembered that the entire day of the 29th was devoted to planning and preparing for the retreat, and this fits the theory advanced in the note on the "Origin of the Retreat." As to the delivery of the orders about boats, it is probable that Trumbull crossed to New York with Mifflin's letter to Heath and gave it to Hughes to forward. At the same time he gave Hughes his instructions verbally. Hughes received them, says his biographer, about noon. He then had eight hours to carry them out, which gave him time to send to Heath and for Heath to comply, while he and his assistants scoured the coast everywhere else for boats, from Hell Gate down. Among other sloops impressed was the Middlesex, Captain Stephen Hogeboom, while on its way to Claverack. "I was prevented from proceeding," says the captain, "by Coll Wardsworth and Commissary Hughes who ordered your memorialist over with the sloop to Long Island ferry where she was used to carry off the Troops and stores after the unfortunate retreat, &c."—N.Y. Hist. MS., vol. i., p. 620.]

The final withdrawal of the troops from the lines was effected under the cover of a plausible general order, which was the only one known to have been issued by the commander-in-chief while on Long Island.[168] This order now comes to light for the first time, and is important as serving to correct the improbable though standard theory that the regiments were moved from their posts under the impression that they were to make a night attack upon the enemy.[169] The order as actually given was far more rational, and less likely to excite suspicion as to its true intent. In the first place, the sick, "being an encumbrance to the army" were directed to be sent to the hospital, their arms and accoutrements taken with them, and from there to be conveyed across to New York and reported to Surgeon-General Morgan. In the next place, the order announced that troops under General Mercer were expected that afternoon from New Jersey, with whom it was proposed to relieve a proportionate number of the regiments on Long Island, and "make a change in the situation of them." In view of the distressed condition of most of the troops at the lines, the propriety of such a "change" was obvious; and in all probability Washington did originally intend to make the relief. And last, as it was apparently undecided what regiments were to be relieved, they were all, or the greater part of them, directed "to parade with their arms, accoutrements, and knapsacks, at 7 o'clock, at the head of their encampments and there wait for orders." On the evening of the 29th, accordingly, we find the troops ready at their camps and the lines to march off at a moment's notice, and all prepared for a retreat by the most natural arrangement that could have been devised to conceal the real design.[170]

[Footnote 168: Document 3. "General Orders. Head-Quarters Long Island, Aug. 29, 1776. Parole, Sullivan, Countersign, Greene."—Col. Douglas' Order Book.]

[Footnote 169: All our principal accounts follow Graydon, who states that the order to attack the enemy was given "regimentally." Colonel Hand, in his letter describing the night's incidents (Reed's Life of Reed), makes no allusion to such an order, but on the contrary states that he and the other colonels of the covering party were told that they were to retreat. An order to attack would have been a poor disguise for a retreat, for every man must have felt its utter rashness and at once suspected some other move.]

[Footnote 170: A letter from Tilghman, Washington's aid, shows that the troops received the impression that they were to be relieved. The retreat, he says, "was conducted with so much Secrecy that neither Subalterns or privates knew that the whole army was to cross back again to N. York; they thought only a few regiments were to go back."—Document 29.]

At dark, the withdrawal began. As one regiment moved away towards the ferry another would have its situation "changed" to fill the gap, or extended from right to left. Every move at first was conducted busily, yet quietly and without confusion. Colonel Little, referring to his part this night, leaves the simple record that the general ordered each regiment to be paraded on their own parades at seven o'clock P.M., and wait for orders. "We received orders," he says, "to strike our tents and march, with our baggage, to New York." Colonel Douglas writes: "I received orders to call in my guard all, and march immediately with the utmost silence." Hitchcock's Rhode Islanders carried their baggage and camp equipage to the boats on their shoulders "through mud and mire and not a ray of light visible." The embarkation was made from the ferry—the present Fulton Ferry—where General McDougall superintended the movements. Between seven and eight o'clock the boats were manned by Glover's and Hutchinson's men, and they went to work with sailor-like cheer and despatch. The militia and levies were the first to cross, though there was some vexing delay in getting them off. Unluckily, too, about nine o'clock the adverse wind and tide and pouring rain began to make the navigation of the river difficult. A north-easter sprang up, and Glover's men could do nothing with the sloops and sail-boats. If the row-boats only were to be depended upon, all the troops could not be ferried over before morning. Discouraged at the prospect, McDougall sent Colonel Grayson, of Washington's staff, to inform the general as to how matters stood, but unable to find him Grayson returned, and McDougall went on with the embarkation in spite of its difficulties. Most fortunately, however, at eleven o'clock there was another and a favorable change in the weather. The north-east wind died away, and soon after a gentle breeze set in from the south-west, of which the sailors took quick advantage, and the passage was now "direct, easy, and expeditious." The troops were pushed across as fast as possible in every variety of craft—row-boats, flat-boats, whale-boats, pettiaugers, sloops, and sail-boats—some of which were loaded to within three inches of the water, which was "as smooth as glass."



COLONEL FOURTEENTH REGIMENT OF FOOT (MASS.) BRIGADIER GENERAL 1777.

Steel Engr. F. von Egloffstein N.Y.]

Meanwhile nearly a fatal blunder occurred at the lines. Early in the evening, a force had been selected, consisting of Hand's, Smallwood's, Haslet's, Shee's, Magaw's, and Chester's regiments, to remain at the works to the last and cover the retreat. General Mifflin commanded the party. Smallwood's men were stationed in Fort Putnam, part of Hand's under Captain Miller in the redoubt on the left, and the rest at the lines on the right of the main road; and the other regiments near them. Brooklyn Church was to be the alarm-post, where the covering party was to concentrate in case the enemy attacked during the night. About two o'clock in the morning, Major Scammell, one of Sullivan's aids now serving with Washington, mistook his orders and started Mifflin's entire command for the ferry. All the regiments had left the lines and were marching down the main road, when Washington, who seemed to be everywhere during the night, met them and exclaimed in astonishment that unless the lines were immediately re-manned "the most disagreeable consequences" might follow, as every thing then was in confusion at the ferry. Mifflin's party promptly faced about and reoccupied their stations until dawn, when Providence again "interposed in favor of the retreating army." To have attempted to withdraw in clear daylight would have been a hazardous experiment for these regiments, but just before dawn a heavy fog began to settle over Long Island, and the covering party was safe. So dense was this "heavenly messenger," as Gordon happily describes it, that it effectually hid the American lines from the British pickets. When the final order, therefore, came about sunrise for Mifflin's men to retire to the ferry, they were enabled to do so under cover of the fog without exciting any suspicion of their movements in the enemy's camp.[171] "We kept up fires, with outposts stationed," says Lieutenant-Colonel Chambers, "until all the rest were over. We left the lines after it was fair day and then came off." As our soldiers withdrew they distinctly heard the sound of pickaxe and shovel at the British works.[172] Before seven o'clock the entire force had crossed to New York, and among the last to leave was the commander-in-chief. "General Washington," adds Chambers, "saw the last over himself."

[Footnote 171: Mr. Reed, the biographer, states that the fog rose on the 29th. Dr. Stiles, in his "History of Brooklyn," says: "At midnight a dense fog arose, which remained motionless and impenetrable over the island during the whole of the next day [the 29th]." "A dense fog," writes Mr. Field, "hung over the island and river, when the morning of the 29th dawned." Now nothing is more certain than that the fog did not rise until shortly before dawn of the 30th, full six hours after the retreat had begun. The 28th and 29th, as already seen, were days of rain-storms, not mist, nor fog, but storm, "torrents," such rain at times the like of which could "hardly be remembered." Contemporary writers who mention the rains say nothing of fog on the 29th, whereas they do notice its appearance the next morning. Major Tallmadge writes: "As the dawn of the next day approached, those of us who remained in the trenches became very anxious for our own safety, and when the dawn appeared, there were several regiments still on duty. At this time a very dense fog began to rise, and it seemed to settle in a peculiar manner over both encampments. I recollect this peculiar providential occurrence perfectly well; and so very dense was the atmosphere that I could scarcely discern a man at six yards' distance." This officer's regiment was one of the covering party, and he adds that after leaving the lines by mistake, and receiving orders to return, "Col. Chester immediately faced to the right about and returned, where we tarried until the sun had risen, but the fog remained as dense as ever." "At sunrise a great fog came up," says a spectator (Stiles' MS. Diary). An officer or soldier of either Shee's or Magaw's regiment, also of the covering party, wrote a few hours after crossing: "We received orders to quit our station about two o'clock this morning, and had made our retreat almost to the ferry when Gen. Washington ordered us back to that part of the lines we were first at, which was reckoned to be the most dangerous post. We got back undiscovered by the enemy, and continued there until daylight. Providentially for us, a great fog arose, which prevented the enemy from seeing our retreat from their works which was not more than musket shot from us."—Force, 5th Series, vol. i., p. 1233. So also, Stedman, the British historian, referring to the events of the night of the 29th-30th, says: "Another remarkable circumstance was, that on Long Island hung a thick fog, which prevented the British troops from discovering the operations of the enemy." Washington did not, as often stated in popular accounts, take advantage of a fog to cover his retreat. More than half the army was over before the fog appeared; but it protected the covering party, and saved us the loss of considerable baggage and other material.]

[Footnote 172: An English patrol under Captain Montressor discovered the retreat of the Americans very soon after the latter left the lines, and reported the fact at once. But for some unexplained reason pursuit was delayed until too late. One boat with four stragglers was taken by the enemy.]

By the army the retreat was welcomed as a great relief, a salvation from probable calamity. Not a few appreciated its completeness and success as a strictly military move. "This evacuation," writes one, "is a masterpiece." "That grand retreat from the Island which will ever reflect honour to our Generals," says another. "Considering the difficulties," is Greene's criticism, "it was the best effected retreat I ever read or heard of." "It was executed," says Scott, "with unexpected success." But in the country at large it was generally associated with the defeat of the 27th, and the skilfulness with which it was conducted little compensated for the fact that the retreat was forced upon us.



CHAPTER VI.

LOSS OF NEW YORK—KIP'S BAY AFFAIR—BATTLE OF HARLEM HEIGHTS.

Long Island surrendered, could New York be held? Columbia Heights, where Fort Stirling stood, had been regarded by Lee as the "capital point," the key of the position. Greene called the Brooklyn front "the pass," on the possession of which depended the security of the city. Both pass and heights were now in the enemy's hands, and New York was at their mercy. "We are in hourly expectation," wrote Commissary Trumbull, September 1st, "that the town will be bombarded." Lieutenant Jasper Ewing, of Hand's riflemen, saw that the British could reduce the place to "a heap of ashes" in a day's time. Colonel Douglas looked for an immediate cannonade from Fort Stirling, "which," he says, "I have the mortification to think I helped build myself." But the enemy kept their guns quiet, as they wished neither to injure the city nor drive our army away. They contented themselves at first with stretching their troops along the water front from Red Hook to Hell Gate, Newtown, and Flushing on Long Island, and threatening to land at any point on Manhattan Island from the Battery to Harlem, or beyond on the Westchester shore.

As for Washington, the successful retreat had not in the least relieved him from care or anxiety. He had escaped one trap: it was of the utmost consequence now to see that he did not fall into another. What he feared most was a sudden move upon his rear in Westchester County, for in that case he would be hopelessly hemmed in on Manhattan Island. "The enemy," continued Trumbull on the 1st, "are drawing their men to the eastward on Long Island, as if they intended to throw a strong party over on this island, near Hell Gate, so as to get on the back of the city. We are preparing to meet them." Haslet wrote August 31st: "I expect every moment orders to march off to Kingsbridge to prevent the enemy crossing the East River and confining us on another nook.... If they can coop us up in N. York by intrenching from river to river, horrid will be the consequences from their command of the rivers." General Heath pressed the matter of watching the Westchester coast, and Washington, concurring with him "as to the probability of the enemy's endeavoring to land their forces at Hunt's Point," above Hell Gate, wrote him on the 31st: "In order to prevent such an attempt from being carried into execution I have sent up General Mifflin with the troops he brought from your quarters, strengthened by reinforcements. With this assistance I hope you will be able to defeat their intentions. I beg you will exert yourself to the utmost of your abilities on this momentous occasion." Several days passing without any demonstration by the enemy, Washington's suspense was only protracted, and on September 5th he wrote again to Heath as follows:

"As everything in a manner depends upon obtaining intelligence of the enemy's motions, I do most earnestly entreat you and General Clinton to exert yourselves to accomplish this most desirable end. Leave no stone unturned, nor do not stick at expense to bring this to pass, as I never was more uneasy than on account of my want of knowledge on this score.

"Keep, besides this precaution, constant lookouts (with good glasses) on some commanding heights that look well on to the other shore (and especially into the bays, where boats can be concealed), that they may observe, more particularly in the evening, if there be any uncommon movements. Much will depend upon early intelligence, and meeting the enemy before they can intrench. I should much approve of small harassing parties, stealing, as it were, over in the night, as they might keep the enemy alarmed, and more than probably bring off a prisoner, from whom some valuable intelligence may be obtained."[173]

[Footnote 173: "The Heath Correspondence," Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., 1878.]

To add to his burdens, the commander-in-chief found the condition of his army growing worse instead of improving. The experiences on Long Island had disheartened many of the troops, and their escape had not revived their spirits.[174] The militia became impatient and went home in groups and whole companies, and indeed in such numbers as to materially diminish the strength of the army. To restore order and confidence, Washington exerted himself to the utmost. Tilghman, one of his aids, speaks of "the vast hurry of business" in which the general was engaged at this time. "He is obliged," he writes, "to see into, and in a manner fill every department, which is too much for one man." To Rodney, Haslet wrote: "I fear Genl Washington has too heavy a task, assisted mostly by beardless boys."[175] But fortunately for the country the general's shoulders were broad enough for these great duties, and his faith and resolution remained unshaken.

[Footnote 174: Pastor Shewkirk notes in his diary that immediately after the retreat "a general damp" seemed to spread over the army. "The merry tones on drums and fifes had ceased, and they were hardly heard for a couple of days." The wet clothes, accoutrements, and tents were lying about in front of the houses and in the streets, and every thing was in confusion. But this was to be expected. General Scott, referring evidently to expressions heard among his own men, says that some declared that they had been "sold out," and others longed to have Lee back from the South.—Scott's MS. Letter, September 6th, 1776.]

[Footnote 175: Washington's aids were most of them quite young men.]

As soon as possible the army was reorganized and stationed to meet the new phase of the situation. Several changes were made in the brigades, and the whole divided into three grand divisions, under Putnam, Spencer, and Heath. Putnam's, consisting of five brigades, remained in the city and guarded the East River above as far as Fifteenth Street; Spencer's, of six brigades, took up the line from that point to Horn's Hook and Harlem; and Heath with two brigades watched King's Bridge and the Westchester shore. Greene had not sufficiently recovered from his illness, and his old troops, under Nixon and Heard, were temporarily doing duty with Spencer's command.[176] This disposition was effected by the 2d of September, and by it our army again occupied an extended line, endeavoring to protect every point on the east side from the battery to King's Bridge, or the entire length of the island, a distance of fourteen and a half miles.

[Footnote 176: A large number of changes were made in the organization of the army after the retreat. The Connecticut militia were divided up and formed into brigades with the levies under General Wadsworth, Colonel Silliman, Colonel Douglas, and Colonel Chester. A brigade was given also to Colonel Sargent, of Massachusetts. Putnam's division included Parsons', Scott's, James Clinton's (Glover's), Fellows', and Silliman's brigades; Spencer's and Greene's divisions included Nixon's, Heard's, McDougall's, Wadsworth's, Douglas', Chester's and Sargent's brigades; while Heath had his former brigades, with a change of some regiments, under Mifflin and George Clinton.]

The question of abandoning New York and all that part of the island below Harlem Heights was, meanwhile, under consideration. The city would obviously be untenable under a bombardment, and the island equally so if the British crossed into Westchester County. Yet Washington, strangely, we may say, expressed the conviction that he could hold both provided his troops could be depended upon.[177] Among his generals, Greene earnestly opposed any such attempt, and advocated the evacuation and destruction of the place. "The City and Island of New York," he wrote to his chief, September 5th, "are no objects for us; we are not to bring them into competition with the general interests of America.... The sacrifice of the vast property of New York and the suburbs, I hope has no influence on your Excellency's measures. Remember the King of France. When Charles the Fifth, Emperor of Germany, invaded his Kingdom, he laid whole Provinces waste; and by that policy he starved and ruined Charles's army, and defeated him without fighting a battle. Two-thirds of the property of the City of New York and the suburbs belong to the tories. We have no very great reason to run any considerable risk for its defence.... I would give it as my opinion that a general and speedy retreat is absolutely necessary, and that the honour and interest of America require it. I would burn the city." John Jay before this also proposed its destruction. Scott urged abandonment of the place for sound military reasons, though the move would ruin him. Washington, however, on the 2d, presented the whole question to Congress. Also convinced by the condition of the army, that the city must be evacuated, he asked, "If we should be obliged to abandon the town, ought it to stand as winter quarters for the enemy?" Congress voted, in reply, that "it should in no event be damaged, for they had no doubt of being able to recover it, even though the enemy should obtain possession of it for a time." On the 7th, a council of war, inferring that Congress wished the place to be held, decided to retain five thousand troops in the city and concentrate the rest around and above Harlem; but on the 12th the matter was reconsidered, and a second council voted to evacuate the city and retire to Harlem Heights. The removal of stores and the sick had already commenced; and on the 14th, when the enemy appeared to be on the point of crossing from Montressor's, now Randall's, Island to the mainland, all the teams and wagons that could be found were impressed by the quartermasters to remove the remaining stores. In one day more the removal would have been complete and the troops all withdrawn to the heights. In the evening of the 14th Washington left the city, and established his headquarters at the Morris Mansion, at One Hundred and Sixty-first Street, overlooking Harlem River and the plains.[178]