The Student's Life of Washington; Condensed from the Larger Work of Washington Irving Part 36

Besides, persons well acquainted with the country a.s.sured him that it would be impossible to annoy the enemy in their embarkation, as he must approach the place by a narrow pa.s.sage, capable of being defended by a few men against his whole force. Detaching General Maxwell's brigade and Morgan's rifle corps, therefore, to hang on the rear of the enemy, prevent depredation and encourage desertions, he determined to shape his course with his main body by Brunswick toward the Hudson, lest Sir Henry should have any design upon the posts there.

The American loss in the recent battle was eight officers and sixty-one privates killed, and about one hundred and sixty wounded.

The officers who had charge of the burying parties reported that they found two hundred and forty-five non-commissioned officers and privates, and four officers, left dead by the enemy on the field of battle.

After giving his troops a day's repose, Was.h.i.+ngton decamped on the 30th. His march lay through a country dest.i.tute of water, with deep, sandy roads wearying to the feet, and reflecting the intolerable heat and glare of a July sun. Many of the troops, hara.s.sed by previous fatigue, gave out by the way. Some few died, and a number of horses were likewise lost. Was.h.i.+ngton, ever considerate of the health and comfort of his men, encamped near Brunswick on open, airy grounds, and gave them time to repose; while Lieutenant-colonel Aaron Burr, at that time a young and enterprising officer, was sent on a reconnoitring expedition, to learn the movements and intentions of the enemy.

Sir Henry Clinton with the royal army had arrived at the Highlands of Navesink, in the neighborhood of Sandy Hook, on the 30th of June. He had lost many men by desertion, Hessians especially, during his march through the Jerseys, which, with his losses by killed, wounded and captured, had diminished his army more than two thousand men. The storms of the preceding winter had cut off the peninsula of Sandy Hook from the mainland, and formed a deep channel between them. Fortunately the squadron of Lord Howe had arrived the day before, and was at anchor within the Hook. A bridge was immediately made across the channel with the boats of the s.h.i.+ps, over which the army pa.s.sed to the Hook on the 5th of July, and thence was distributed.

Having brought the army to a halt, we have time to notice a correspondence between General Lee and Was.h.i.+ngton, immediately subsequent to the affair of Monmouth. The pride of the general had been deeply wounded by the rebuke he had received on the field of battle. On the following day (June 29th) he addressed a note to Was.h.i.+ngton on the subject. By mistake it was dated July 1st. "From the knowledge I have of your Excellency's character," writes he, "I must conclude that nothing but the misinformation of some very stupid, or misrepresentation of some very wicked person, could have occasioned your making use of so very singular expressions as you did on my coming up to the ground where you had taken post. They implied that I was guilty either of disobedience of orders, want of conduct, or want of courage. Your Excellency will therefore infinitely oblige me by letting me know on which of these three articles you ground your charge."

Was.h.i.+ngton, in reply, wrote: "I received your letter (dated through mistake the 1st of July), expressed as I conceive in terms highly improper. I am not conscious of making use of any very singular expressions at the time of meeting you, as you intimate. What I recollect to have said was dictated by duty and warranted by the occasion. As soon as circ.u.mstances will permit, you shall have an opportunity of justifying yourself to the army, to Congress, to America, and to the world in general."

To this Lee rejoined, in a note, misdated 28th June: "Sir, you cannot afford me greater pleasure than in giving me the opportunity of showing to America the sufficiency of her respective servants. I trust that temporary power of office, and the tinsel dignity attending it, will not be able, by all the mists they can raise, to obfuscate the bright rays of truth. In the meantime, your Excellency can have no objection to my retiring from the army," etc. Shortly after despatching this note, Lee addressed another to Was.h.i.+ngton. "I have reflected on both your situation and mine," writes he, "and beg leave to observe, that it will be for our mutual convenience that a court of inquiry should be immediately ordered.... I must entreat, therefore, from your love of justice, that you will immediately exhibit your charge, and that on the first halt I may be brought to a trial."

Was.h.i.+ngton in reply acknowledged the receipt of the two last notes, and added, "I have sent Colonel Scammel and the adjutant-general to put you under arrest, who will deliver you a copy of the charges on which you will be tried."

A court-martial was accordingly formed on the 4th of July, at Brunswick, the first halting place. It was composed of one major-general, four brigadiers, and eight colonels, with Lord Stirling as president. It moved with the army, and convened subsequently at Paramus, Peekskill, and Northcastle, the trial lasting until the 12th of August. The result of the prolonged and tedious investigation was that he was found guilty of all the charges exhibited against him.

[1st. Disobedience of orders. 2d. Misbehavior before the enemy, by making an unnecessary and disorderly retreat. 3d. Disrespect to the commander-in-chief in letters dated July 1st and June 28th.] He was sentenced to be suspended from all command for one year; the sentence to be approved or set aside by Congress.

We must antic.i.p.ate dates to dispose briefly of the career of General Lee, who is not connected with subsequent events of the Revolution.

Congress were more than three months in coming to a decision on the proceedings of the court-martial. At length, on the 5th of December, the sentence was approved in a very thin session of Congress, fifteen members voting in the affirmative and seven in the negative. From that time Lee was unmeasured in his abuse of Was.h.i.+ngton, and his reprobation of the court-martial, which he termed a "court of inquisition." His aggressive tongue at length involved him in a quarrel with Colonel Laurens, one of Was.h.i.+ngton's aides, a high-spirited young gentleman who felt himself bound to vindicate the honor of his chief. A duel took place, and Lee was wounded in the side. Towards spring he retired to his estate in Berkley County in Virginia, where he led a kind of hermit life. Dogs and horses were his favorite companions. His house is described as being a mere sh.e.l.l, dest.i.tute of comforts and conveniences. For want of part.i.tions the different parts were designated by lines chalked on the floor. In one corner was his bed; in another were his books; his saddles and harness in a third; a fourth served as a kitchen.

The term of his suspension had expired when a rumor reached him that Congress intended to take away his commission. The intelligence "ruffled his temper beyond all bounds." In his hurry and heat, without attempting to ascertain the truth of the report, he scrawled the following note to the President of Congress: "Sir, I understand that it is in contemplation of Congress, on the principle of economy, to strike me out of their service. Congress must know very little of me if they suppose that I would accept of their money, since the confirmation of the wicked and infamous sentence which was pa.s.sed upon me. I am, sir," etc. This insolent note occasioned his prompt dismissal from the service.

Though bitter in his enmities, Lee had his friends.h.i.+ps, and was warm and constant in them as far as his capricious humors would allow.

There was nothing crafty or mean in his character, nor do we think he ever engaged in the low intrigues of the cabal; but he was a disappointed and embittered man, and the gall of bitterness overflowed his generous qualities. In such a discordant state of feeling, he was not a man for the sweet solitude of the country. He became weary of his Virginia estate; though in one of the most fertile regions of the Shenandoah Valley. His farm was mismanaged; his agents were unfaithful; he entered into negotiations to dispose of his property, in the course of which he visited Philadelphia. On arriving there he was taken with chills, followed by a fever, which went on increasing in violence, and terminated fatally. A soldier even unto the end, warlike scenes mingled with the delirium of his malady. In his dying moments he fancied himself on the field of battle. The last words he was heard to utter were, "Stand by me, my brave grenadiers!"

CHAPTER LI.

ARRIVAL OF A FRENCH FLEET.--Ma.s.sACRE AT WYOMING VALLEY.--CAPTURE OF SAVANNAH.

While encamped at Paramus, Was.h.i.+ngton, in the night of the 13th of July, received a letter from Congress informing him of the arrival of a French fleet on the coast; instructing him to concert measures with the commander, the Count D'Estaing, for offensive operations by sea and land, and empowering him to call on the States from New Hamps.h.i.+re to New Jersey inclusive, to aid with their militia. The fleet in question was composed of twelve s.h.i.+ps of the line and six frigates, with a land force of four thousand men. On board of it came Mons.

Gerard, minister from France to the United States, and the Hon. Silas Deane, one of the American ministers who had effected the late treaty of alliance. The fleet had sailed from Toulon on the 13th of April.

After struggling against adverse winds for eighty-seven or eighty-eight days, it had made its appearance off the northern extremity of the Virginia coast, and anch.o.r.ed at the mouth of the Delaware on the 8th of July.

Finding the enemy had evacuated both city and river, the count sent up the French minister and Mr. Deane to Philadelphia in a frigate, and then, putting to sea, continued along the coast. A little earlier, and he might have intercepted the squadron of Lord Howe on its way to New York. It had had but a very few days the advantage of him, and when he arrived with his fleet in the road outside of Sandy Hook, he descried the British s.h.i.+ps quietly anch.o.r.ed inside of it.

A frank and cordial correspondence took place forthwith between the count and Was.h.i.+ngton, and a plan of action was concerted between them by the intervention of confidential officers; Was.h.i.+ngton's aides-de-camp, Laurens and Hamilton, boarding the fleet while off the Hook, and Major Chouin, a French officer of merit, repairing to the American head-quarters.

The first idea of the count was to enter at Sandy Hook, and capture or destroy the British fleet, composed of six s.h.i.+ps of the line, four fifty-gun s.h.i.+ps, and a number of frigates and smaller vessels; should he succeed in this, which his greatly superior force rendered probable, he was to proceed against the city, with the co-operation of the American forces. To be at hand for such purpose, Was.h.i.+ngton crossed the Hudson, with his army, at King's Ferry, and encamped at White Plains about the 20th of July. Several experienced American pilots and masters of vessels, however, who had accompanied Colonels Laurens and Hamilton on board of the fleet, declared that there was not sufficient depth of water on the bar to admit the safe pa.s.sage of the largest s.h.i.+ps, one of which carried 80 and another 90 guns; the attempt, therefore, was reluctantly abandoned, and the s.h.i.+ps anch.o.r.ed about four miles off, near Shrewsbury on the Jersey coast, taking in provisions and water.

The enterprise which the American and French commanders deemed next worthy of a combined operation, was the recapture of Rhode Island proper, that is to say, the island which gives its name to the State, and which the enemy had made one of their military depots and strongholds. In antic.i.p.ation of such an enterprise, Was.h.i.+ngton, on the 17th of July wrote to General Sullivan, who commanded at Providence, ordering him to make the necessary preparations for a descent from the mainland upon the island, and authorizing him to call in reinforcements of New England militia. He subsequently sent to his aid the Marquis Lafayette with two brigades (Varnum's and Glover's).

Quartermaster-general Greene also was detached for the service, being a native of the island, well acquainted with its localities, and having great influence among its inhabitants. Sullivan was instructed to form his whole force, Continental, State and militia, into two equal divisions, one to be commanded by Greene, the other by Lafayette.

On the 22d of July, the French fleet, having finished taking in its supplies, stood away to the eastward, and on the 29th arrived off Point Judith, coming to anchor within five miles of Newport.

Rhode Island (proper), the object of this expedition, is about sixteen miles long, running deep into the great Narraganset Bay. Seaconnet Channel separates it on the east from the mainland, and on the west the main channel pa.s.ses between it and Conanicut Island. The town of Newport is situated near the south end of the island, facing the west, with Conanicut Island in front of it. It was protected by batteries and a small naval force. Here General Sir Robert Pigott, who commanded in the island, had his head-quarters. The force under him was about six thousand strong, variously posted about the island, some in works at the north end, but the greater part within strongly intrenched lines extending across the island, about three miles from the town.

General Greene hastened from Providence on hearing of the arrival of the fleet of Count D'Estaing, and went on board of it at the anchorage to concert a plan of operations. It was agreed that the fleet should force its way into the harbor at the same time that the Americans approached by land, and that the landing of the troops from the s.h.i.+ps on the west side of the island should take place at the same time that the Americans should cross Seaconnet Channel, and land on the east side near the north end. This combined operation was to have been carried promptly into effect, but was postponed until the 10th of August, to give time for the reinforcements sent by Was.h.i.+ngton to arrive. The delay was fatal to the enterprise.

On the 8th, the Count D'Estaing entered the harbor and pa.s.sed up the main channel, exchanging a cannonade with the batteries as he pa.s.sed, and anch.o.r.ed a little above the town, between Goat and Conanicut Islands. The English, on his approach, burnt or scuttled three frigates and some smaller vessels, which would otherwise have been captured. General Sullivan, to be ready for the concerted attack, had moved down from Providence to the neighborhood of Howland's Ferry, on the east side of Seaconnet pa.s.sage.

The British troops stationed opposite on the north end of the island, fearful of being cut off, evacuated their works in the night of the 8th, and drew into the lines at Newport. Sullivan, seeing the works thus abandoned, could not resist the temptation to cross the channel in flat-bottomed boats on the morning of the 9th, and take possession of them.

This sudden movement, a day in advance of the concerted time, and without due notice given to the count, surprised and offended him, clas.h.i.+ng with his notions of etiquette and punctilio. He, however, prepared to co-operate, and was ordering out his boats for the purpose, when, about two o'clock in the day, his attention was called to a great fleet of s.h.i.+ps standing toward Newport. It was, in fact, the fleet of Lord Howe. That gallant n.o.bleman had heard of the danger of Newport, and being reinforced by four stout s.h.i.+ps, part of a squadron coming out under Admiral Byron, had hastened to its relief; though still inferior in force to the French admiral. The delay of the concerted attack had enabled him to arrive in time. The wind set directly into the harbor. Had he entered promptly the French would have been placed between two fires, from his s.h.i.+ps and the batteries, and cramped up in a confined channel where their largest s.h.i.+ps had no room to operate. His lords.h.i.+p, however, came to anchor at Point Judith, some distance from the south-west entrance of the bay.

In the night the wind changed to the north-east. The count hastened to avail himself of the error of the British admiral. Favored by the wind, he stood out of the harbor at eight o'clock in the morning to give the enemy battle where he should have good sea room; previously sending word to General Sullivan that he would land his promised troops and marines, and co-operate with him on his return. The French s.h.i.+ps were severely cannonaded as they pa.s.sed the batteries, but without material damage. Forming in order of battle, they bore down upon the fleet of Lord Howe, confidently antic.i.p.ating a victory from their superiority of force. The British s.h.i.+ps slipt their cables at their approach, and likewise formed in line of battle, but his lords.h.i.+p avoided an encounter while the enemy had the weathergage. To gain this on the one part, and retain it on the other, the two fleets manoeuvred throughout the day standing to the southward, and gradually disappearing from the anxious eyes of the belligerent forces on Rhode Island.

The army of Sullivan, now left to itself before Newport, amounted to ten thousand men, having received the militia reinforcements.

Lafayette advised the delay of hostile operations until the return of D'Estaing, but the American commander, piqued and chagrined at the departure of his allies, determined to commence the siege immediately without waiting for his tardy aid. On the 12th, however, came on a tempest of wind and rain which raged for two days and nights with unexampled violence. On the 14th the weather cleared up and the sun shone brightly, but the army was worn down and dispirited. The day was pa.s.sed in drying their clothes, cleaning their arms, and putting themselves in order for action. By the next morning they were again on the alert. Expecting the prompt return of the French, they now took post on Honeyman's Hill, about two miles from the British lines, and began to construct batteries, form lines of communication, and make regular approaches. The British were equally active in strengthening their defences. There was casual cannonading on each side, but nothing of consequence. Several days elapsed without the re-appearance of the French. The situation of the besiegers was growing critical, when, on the evening of the 19th, they descried the expected fleet standing toward the harbor. All now was exultation in the camp. Should the French with their s.h.i.+ps and troops attack the town by sea and land on the one side while the Americans a.s.sailed it on the other, the surrender of the place was inevitable.

These sanguine antic.i.p.ations, however, were shortlived. The French fleet was in a shattered and forlorn condition. After sailing from before Newport on the 20th, it had manoeuvred for two days with the British fleet, each unwilling to enter into action without having the weathergage. While thus manoeuvring, the same furious storm which had raged on sh.o.r.e separated and dispersed them with fearful ravage. Some single encounters of scattered s.h.i.+ps subsequently took place, but without definite result. All were too much tempest-tossed and disabled to make good fight. Lord Howe with such of his s.h.i.+ps as he could collect bore away to New York to refit, and the French admiral was now before Newport, but in no plight or mood for fighting.

In a letter to General Sullivan, he informed him that pursuant to the orders of his sovereign and the advice of his officers, he was bound for Boston, being instructed to repair to that port should he meet with misfortune, or a superior British force appear upon the coast.

Dismayed at this intelligence which threatened ruin and disgrace to the enterprise, Sullivan wrote a letter of remonstrance to the count, and General Greene and the Marquis Lafayette repaired with it on board of the admiral's s.h.i.+p, to enforce it by their personal exertions. They represented to the count the certainty of carrying the place in two days by a combined attack; and the discouragement and reproach that would follow a failure on this their first attempt at co-operation; an attempt, too, for which the Americans had made such great and expensive preparations, and on which they had indulged such sanguine hopes. These and other considerations equally urgent had their weight with the count, and he was inclined to remain and pursue the enterprise, but was overruled by the princ.i.p.al officers of his fleet.

The fact is, that he was properly a land officer, and they had been indignant at his having a nautical command over their heads. They were glad, therefore, of any opportunity to thwart and mortify him; and now insisted on his complying with his letter of instructions and sailing for Boston.

At the sailing of the s.h.i.+ps there was a feeling of exasperation throughout the camp. Sullivan gave vent to his vexation in a general order on the 24th, wherein he observed: "The general cannot help lamenting the sudden and unexpected departure of the French fleet, as he finds it has a tendency to discourage some who placed great dependence upon the a.s.sistance of it; though he can by no means suppose the army or any part of it, endangered by this movement. He yet hopes the event will prove America able to procure that by her own arms which her allies refuse to a.s.sist in obtaining." On cooler reflection he thought proper in subsequent orders, to explain away this rash imputation on French loyalty, but a general feeling of irritation against the French continued to prevail in the army.

The departure of the fleet was a death-blow to the enterprise. Between two and three thousand volunteers abandoned the camp in the course of four and twenty hours; others continued to go off; and in a few days the number of besiegers did not exceed that of the besieged. All thoughts of offensive operations were now at an end. The question was how best to extricate the army from its perilous position. On the 28th it was determined, in a council of war, to fall back to the military works at the north end of the island, and fortify there, until it should be known whether the French fleet would soon return to their a.s.sistance, the Marquis Lafayette setting off with all speed to have an interview with the Count D'Estaing, and ascertain the fact.

General Sullivan broke up his camp, and commenced his retreat that very night, between nine and ten o'clock. Their retreat was not discovered until daylight, when a pursuit was commenced. The covering parties behaved gallantly, making frequent stands. After a series of skirmishes they were pressed back to the fortified grounds on the north end of the island; but Sullivan had already taken post there, on Batt's Hill, the main body of his army being drawn up in order of battle, with strong works in their rear, and a redoubt in front of the right wing.

The British now took post on an advantageous height called Quaker Hill, a little more than a mile from the American front, whence they commenced a cannonade which was briskly returned. Skirmis.h.i.+ng ensued until about ten o'clock, when two British sloops-of-war and some small vessels having gained a favorable position, the enemy's troops, under cover of their fire, advanced in force to turn the right flank of the American army, and capture the redoubt which protected it. This was bravely defended by General Greene; a sharp action ensued, which had nearly become a general one; between two and three hundred men were killed on each side; the British at length drew back to their artillery and works on Quaker Hill, and a mutual cannonade was resumed and kept up until night. On the following day (29th) General Sullivan received intelligence that Lord Howe had again put to sea with the design, no doubt, to attempt the relief of Newport.

Under these circ.u.mstances it was determined to abandon Rhode Island.

To do so with safety, however, required the utmost caution, as the hostile sentries were within four hundred yards of each other. The position on Batt's Hill favored a deception. Tents were brought forward and pitched in sight of the enemy, and a great part of the troops employed throughout the day in throwing up works, as if the post was to be resolutely maintained; at the same time, the heavy baggage and stores were quietly conveyed away in the rear of the hill, and ferried across the bay. As soon as it was dark the tents were struck, fires were lighted at various points, the troops withdrawn, and in a few hours the whole were transported across the channel to the mainland.

The whole army had crossed by two o'clock in the morning unperceived by the enemy; the very next day Sir Henry Clinton arrived at Newport in a light squadron, with a reinforcement of four thousand men, a naval and land force that might effectually have cut off Sullivan's retreat, had he lingered on the island. Sir Henry, finding he had arrived a day too late, returned to New York, but first detached Major-general Sir Charles Grey with the troops, on a ravaging expedition to the eastward; chiefly against ports which were the haunts of privateers. He destroyed more than seventy vessels in Acushnet River, some of them privateers with their prizes, others peaceful merchant s.h.i.+ps. New Bedford and Fair Haven having been made military and naval deposits, were laid waste, wharves demolished, rope-walks, store-houses and mills, with several private dwellings, wrapped in flames. Similar destruction was effected at the Island of Martha's Vineyard. Having thus ravaged the coasts of New England, the squadron returned laden with inglorious spoil to New York.

Lord Howe, also, who had sailed for Boston in the hope of intercepting the Count D'Estaing, and had reached there on the 30th of August, found the French fleet safely sheltered in Nantasket Road, and protected by American batteries erected on commanding points. He also returned to New York, and shortly afterward, availing himself of a permission granted him some time before by government, resigned the command of the fleet to Admiral Gambler, to hold it until the arrival of Admiral Byron.

While hostilities were carried on in the customary form along the Atlantic borders, Indian warfare, with all its atrocity, was going on in the interior. The British post at Niagara was its cradle. It was the common rallying place of tories, refugees, savage warriors, and other desperadoes of the frontiers. Hither Brant, the noted Indian chief, had retired after the repulse of St. Leger at Fort Schuyler, to plan further mischief; and here was concerted the memorable incursion into the Valley of Wyoming, suggested by tory refugees, who had until recently inhabited it.

The Valley of Wyoming is a beautiful region lying along the Susquehanna. Peaceful as was its aspect, it had been the scene of sanguinary feuds prior to the Revolution, between the people of Pennsylvania and Connecticut, who both laid claim to it. Seven rural forts or block-houses, situated on various parts of the valley, had been strongholds during these territorial contests, and remained as places of refuge for women and children in times of Indian ravage. The expedition now set on foot against it, in June, was composed of Butler's rangers, Johnson's royal greens, and Brant, with his Indian braves. Their united force, about eleven hundred strong, was conducted by Colonel John Butler, renowned in Indian warfare. Pa.s.sing down the Chemung and Susquehanna in canoes, they landed at a place called Three Islands, struck through the wilderness to a gap or "notch" of the mountains, by which they entered the Valley of Wyoming. Butler made his head-quarters at one of the strongholds already mentioned, called Wintermoot's Fort, from a tory family of the same name. Hence he sent out his marauding parties to plunder and lay waste the country.

Rumors of this intended invasion had reached the valley some time before the appearance of the enemy, and had spread great consternation. Most of the st.u.r.dy yeomanry were absent in the army. A company of sixty men, enlisted under an act of Congress, and hastily and imperfectly organized, yet styling themselves regulars, took post at one of the strongholds called Forty Fort; where they were joined by about three hundred of the most efficient of the yeomanry, armed and equipped in rude rustic style. In this emergency old men and boys volunteered to meet the common danger, posting themselves in the smaller forts in which women and children had taken refuge. Colonel Zebulon Butler, an officer of the Continental army, took the general command. Several officers arrived from the army, having obtained leave to repair home for the protection of their families. They brought word that a reinforcement, sent by Was.h.i.+ngton, was on its way.

In the meantime the marauding parties sent out by Butler and Brant were spreading desolation through the valley; farm-houses were wrapped in flames; husbandmen were murdered while at work in the fields; all who had not taken refuge in the fort were threatened with destruction.

What was to be done? Wait for the arrival of the promised reinforcement, or attempt to check the ravage? The latter was rashly determined on. Leaving the women and children in Forty Fort, Colonel Zebulon Butler with his men sallied forth on the 3d of July, and made a rapid move upon Wintermoot Fort, hoping to come upon it by surprise.

They found the enemy drawn up in front of it, in a line extending from the river to a marsh; Colonel John Butler and his rangers, with Johnson's royal greens, on the left; Indians and tories on the right.

The Americans formed a line of the same extent; the regulars under Colonel Butler on the right flank resting on the river, the militia under Colonel Denison on the left wing on the marsh. A sharp fire was opened from right to left; after a few volleys the enemy in front of Colonel Butler began to give way. The Indians, however, throwing themselves into the marsh, turned the left flank of the Americans and attacked the militia in the rear. Denison, finding himself exposed to a cross fire, sought to change his position, and gave the word to fall back. It was mistaken for an order to retreat. In an instant the left wing turned and fled; all attempts to rally it were vain; the panic extended to the right wing. The savages, throwing down their rifles, rushed on with tomahawk and scalping-knife, and a horrible ma.s.sacre ensued. Some of the Americans escaped to Forty Fort, some swam the river; others broke their way across the swamp, and climbed the mountain; some few were taken prisoners; but the greater number were slaughtered.

The desolation of the valley was now completed; fields were laid waste, houses burnt, and their inhabitants murdered. According to the British accounts, upwards of four hundred of the yeomanry of Wyoming were slain, and five thousand persons fled in the utmost distress and consternation, seeking refuge in the settlements on the Lehigh and the Delaware. After completing this horrible work of devastation, the enemy retired before the arrival of the troops detached by Was.h.i.+ngton.

For a great part of the summer, Was.h.i.+ngton had remained encamped at White Plains, watching the movements of the enemy at New York. Early in September he observed a great stir of preparation; cannon and military stores were embarked, and a fleet of one hundred and forty transports were ready to make sail. What was their destination? There were but two capital objects which they could have in view, beside the defeat and dispersion of his army. One was to get possession of the forts and pa.s.ses of the Highlands: the other, by a junction of their land and naval forces, to attempt the destruction of the French fleet at Boston, and regain possession of that town. Those points were so far asunder that it was difficult to protect the one without leaving the other exposed. To do the best that the nature of the case would admit, Was.h.i.+ngton strengthened the works and reinforced the garrison in the Highlands, stationing Putnam with two brigades in the neighborhood of West Point. General Gates was sent with three brigades to Danbury in Connecticut, where he was joined by two brigades under General McDougal, while Was.h.i.+ngton moved his camp to a rear position at Fredericksburg on the borders of Connecticut, and about thirty miles from West Point, so as to be ready for a movement to the eastward or a speedy junction for the defence of the Hudson.