For Love of Country: A Story of Land and Sea in the Days of the Revolution by Brady (best e reader for android TXT) 📕

on the bow, and commenced to grind along the sides of the boat, which heeled so far over that the water began to trickle in through the oar-locks on the other side.

"Steady, men," said Glover, calmly. "Sit still, for your lives."

Bentley had thrown his pole over on the ice-cake promptly, and was now bearing down upon it with all the strength of his powerful arms. But the task was beyond him; the ice and the boat clung together, and the ice was reinforced by several other cakes which its checked motion permitted to close with it. The vast mass crashed against the side of the boat; the oar of the first rower was broken short off at the oar-lock; if the others went the situation of the helpless boat would be, indeed, hopeless. The general himself came to the rescue. Promptly divining the situation, he stepped forward to Bentley's side, and threw his own immense strength upon the pole. Great beads of sweat stood out on Bentley's bronzed forehead as he renewed his efforts; the stout hickory sapling bent and crackled beneath the pressure of the two men, but held on, and the boat slowly but steadily began to swing clear of the ice. These two Homeric men held it off by sheer strength, until the boat was in freewater, and the men, who had sat like statues in their places, could once more use their oars. The general stepped back into his place, cool and calm as usual, and entirely unruffled by his great exertions. Bentley wiped the sweat from his face, and turned and looked back at him in admiration.

"Friend Bentley," he said quietly, "you are a man of mighty thews and sinews. Had it not been for your powerful arms, I fear we would have had a ducking—or worse."

"Lord love you, your honor," said the astonished tailor, "I 've met my match! It was your arm that saved us. I was almost done for. I never saw such strength as that, though when I was younger I would have done better. What a man you would be for reefing topsails in a gale o' wind, your honor, sir!" he continued, thrusting his pole vigorously into a small and impertinent cake of ice in the way. The general was proud of his great strength, and not ill pleased at the genuine and hearty admiration of this genuine and hearty man.

A few moments later they stepped ashore, and a mighty cheer went up from the men who had crowded upon the banks, at the safety of their beloved general. Greene met him at the landing, and the two men clasped hands. The general immediately mounted his powerful white horse, and stationed himself on a little hillock to watch the landing of the rest of the men, engaging General Greene in a low conversation the while.

"Do you know, Greene, that Gates has refused my entreaty to stop one day at Bristol, and take command of Reed's and Cadwalader's troops and help us in the attack! I did not positively order him to do so; only requested him to delay his journey by a day or two. I can't understand his action. A letter was handed me just before we crossed by Wilkinson, telling me that he had gone on to Congress."

"To Congress! What wants he there? Oh, general, it seems as if you had to fight two campaigns,—one against the enemy, and the other against secret, nay open, attempts to minimize your authority and check your plans."

"It seems so, Greene; but with a just cause to sustain, and the blessing of God to help our efforts, we cannot ultimately fail, though, indeed, it may be better that I give place to another man, more able to save the country," went on the general, solemnly.

"Forbid it, Heaven!" cried Greene, passionately. "We, at least, in the army, know to whom has been committed this work; ay, and who has done it, and will do it, too! We will stand by you to the last. Could you not feel in the cheers of those frozen men, when you landed, the love they bear you?"

"Yes, I know that you are with me, and they too. 'T is that alone that gives me heart. Did you publish the orders about the capture of the transport?"

"Yes, sir, and it put new heart in the men, I could see. I wish we had the supplies, the clothing especially, now. It grows colder every moment."

"Ay, and darker, too; I think we shall have snow again before we get through with the night. I wonder how the others down the river have got along. But who comes here?" continued the general, as two men walked hastily up to him and saluted.

"Well, sir?" he said to the first.

"Message from General Ewing, sir."

"Did he get across?"

"No, sir, the ice was so heavy he bade me say he deemed it useless to try it."

"One piece removed from the game, General Greene," said Washington, smiling bitterly. "Now your news, sir?" to the other.

"General Cadwalader got a part of his men across, but the ice banks so against the east side that not a single horse or piece of artillery could be landed, so he bade me say he has recrossed with his men, sir."

"And there's the other piece gone, too! Now, what is to be done?"

General Sullivan, having crossed with the last of his division, at this moment rode up.

"The troops are all across, general," he said.

"Well done! What time is it, some one?"

"Half after eleven, sir," answered a voice.

"Very well, indeed! We have now only to wait for the guns. But, gentlemen, I have just heard that Ewing made no attempt to cross, and that Cadwalader, having tried it, failed. He could get his men over, but no horses and guns, on account of the ice on the bank, and therefore he returned, and we are here alone. What, think you, is to be done now?"

There was a moment's silence.

"Perhaps we would better recross and try it again on a more favorable night," finally said De Fermoy, in his broken accents.

"Yes, yes, that might be well," said one or two others, simultaneously. The most of them, however, said nothing. The general waited a moment, looking about him.

"Gentlemen, it is too late to retreat. I promised myself I would not return without a fight, and I intend to keep that promise. We will carry out the plan ourselves, as much of it at least as we can. I trust Putnam got Griffin off, and that his skirmishers may draw out Von Donop. But be that as it may, we will have a dash at Trenton, and try to bag the game, and get away before the enemy can fall upon us in force. General Greene, you, of course have sent out pickets?"

"Yes, sir, the first men who crossed over, a mile up the road, on the hill yonder."

"Good! Ha, what was that? Snow, as I live, and the moon 's gone, too! How dark it has grown! I think you might allow the men to light fires in those hollows, and let them move about a little; they will freeze to death standing still—I wonder they don't, anyway. How unfortunate is this snow!"

"Beg pardon, your excellency?" said the first of the two messengers.

"What is it, man? Speak out!"

"Can we stay here and take part in your attack, sir?"

"Certainly you may. Fall in with the men there. Where are your horses?"

"We left them on the other side, sir."

"Well, they will have to stay there for this time, and you 'll have to go on foot with the rest."

"Thank you, sir," said the men, eagerly, darting off in the darkness.

"That's a proper spirit, isn't it? Well, to your stations, gentlemen! We have nothing to do now but wait. Don't allow the men to lie down or to sleep, on any account."

And wait they did, for four long hours, the general sitting motionless and silent on his horse, wrapped in his heavy cloak, unheeding, alike, the whirling snow or the cutting sleet of the storm, which grew fiercer every moment. He strained his eyes out into the blackness of the river from time to time, or looked anxiously at the troops, clustered about the fires, or tramping restlessly up and down in their places to ward off the deadly attack of the awful winter night, while some of them sought shelter, behind trees and hillocks, from the fury of the storm. Filled with his own pregnant thoughts, and speaking to no one, he waited, and no man ventured to break his silence. At half after three General Knox, whose resolute will and iron strength had been exerted to the full, and whose mighty voice had been heard from time to time above the shriek of the fierce wind, was able to report that he had got all the artillery over without the loss of a man, a horse, or a gun, and was ready to proceed. The men were hastily assembled, and, leaving a strong detail to guard the boats, at four o'clock in the morning the long and awful march to Trenton was begun, the general and his staff, escorted by the Philadelphia City Troop, in the lead. The storm was at its height. All hopes of a night attack and surprise had necessarily to be abandoned. Still the general pressed on, determined to abide the issue, and make the attack as soon as he reached the enemy. It was the last effort of liberty, conceived in desperation and born in the throes of hunger and cold! What would the bringing forth be?

CHAPTER XXV

Trenton—The Lion Strikes

The route, for the first mile and a half, lay up a steep hill, where the men were much exposed and suffered terribly; after that, for three miles or so, it wound in and out between the hills, and through forests of ash and black oak, which afforded some little shelter. The storm raged with unabated fury, and the progress of the little army was very slow. The men were in good spirits, however, and they cheerfully toiled on over the roads covered with deep drifts, bearing as best they might the driving tempest. It was six in the morning when they reached the little village of Birmingham, where the two columns divided: General Greene's column, accompanied by Washington, taking the longer or inland road, called the Pennington road, which entered the town from the northeast; while Sullivan's column followed the lower road, which entered the town from the west, by way of a bridge over the Assunpink Creek. As Greene had a long detour to make, Sullivan had orders to wait where the cross-road from Rowland's Ferry intersected his line of march, until the first column had time to effect the longer circuit, so that the two attacks might be delivered together. General Washington himself rode in front of the first column. It was still frightfully cold.

About daybreak the general spied an officer on horseback toiling through the snowdrifts toward him. As the horseman drew nearer, he recognized young Martin.

"What is it now, sir?"

"General Sullivan says that the storm has rendered many of his muskets useless, by wetting the priming and powder. He wishes to know what is to be done, sir?"

"Return instantly, and tell him he must use the bayonet! When he hears the firing, he is to advance and charge immediately. The town must be taken, and I intend to take it."

"Very good, sir," said the young man, saluting.

"Can you get through the snow in time?"

"Yes, sir," he replied promptly. "I can get through anything, if your excellency will give the order."

The general smiled approvingly. It was evident that young man's first lesson had been a good one; his emphasis, he was glad to see, had not been misapplied.

When Martin rejoined Sullivan's column, which had been halted at the cross-roads, the men who had witnessed his departure were eagerly waiting his return. As he repeated the general's reply, they began slipping the bayonets over the muzzles of their