The First American Army - Bruce Chadwick [121]
The pardoned men were greatly relieved. “The trembling criminals are now divested of [the ropes] and their bleeding hearts leap for joy . . . No pen could describe the emotions which must have agitated their souls. They were scarcely able to remove from the scaffold without assistance,” noted someone in the crowd.4 Washington issued pardons at the last possible moment, he said, “to strike terror into their fellow soldiers.”
It worked.
There was nothing on earth that would move him to pardon John Herring though. John Herring was not only a criminal, but he had betrayed Washington’s personal trust, the worst thing any man could do. And that betrayal all started with an innocent sixteen dollar loan from Elijah Fisher.
Fisher had given the money to another member of the life guard, John Herrick, and fumed as days went by without any repayment. Finally, after more than two weeks, he returned from a one week furlough to visit his cousin to discover that Herrick was wearing a new suit of clothes. He accused him of purchasing new clothes without repaying his debt to him. Herrick told him that his parents were sending him money and he would pay Fisher when he received it. Then, a moment later, several other members of the guard walked in and they were sporting new suits. Fisher became suspicious.
“Have you had money sent from home, too? I fear that you have taken some other way to get [the clothes] than that,” he said. Herrick then blurted out the truth. John Herring, entrusted by Washington to purchase necessary supplies and clothing for the commander and his aides, had attempted to buy clothing from a Tory, Mr. Prince Howland, who lived in Fishkill, New York. Howland, like many Tories, did little to help the army; he turned down the request. Herring noticed several nice suits, shirts, pants, and other pieces of clothing in the home while he was talking to the man. Late that night, Herring and several other members of the guard, Herrick, Elias Brown, and Moses Walton, blackened their faces with burnt cork and with their hats pulled down over their foreheads, broke into the Howland’s house and stole dozens of pieces of clothing that they kept for themselves. They also robbed the home of another man in the same neighborhood, John Hoag, stealing hats, coats, shirts, boots, and suits, but this time also helping themselves to $400.
“Whether he be a Tory or not, if it should be found out (which such things as robbery seldom are) some or all of you will be hung,” said Fisher, surprising the men with his honesty. In his diary that night, Fisher wrote that “there was no more heard about it” and that the theft, like so many, would not be punished. He was wrong.
Howland complained about the robbery of his home to a member of the life guard whom he knew, John Stockdale. When he described the hats the men wore, Stockdale instantly knew who the thieves were. He went to Herring, Herrick, Brown, and Walton and told them that they might avoid trouble if they sneaked back to the two homes at night and returned everything they had stolen. That was impossible, they said, because some of the clothing was gone. A day later, the second man who was robbed complained to a another man in the guard while the pair had a beer together at a local tavern. A waiter overhearing their conversation told the soldier that Stockdale knew something about the robbery and the soldier confronted him. Stockdale would not talk, but the soldier reminded him that he could be arrested for concealing information and protecting criminals. Stockdale then told him the entire story; the men were arrested and found guilty at a court-martial.
Washington felt betrayed. He expected all of his troops to be lawabiding and honest, but he demanded it above all from members of his own life guard. Like his aides, he considered his personal bodyguards members of his military family. The commander’s vengeance was severe. He ordered Herring, Walton, and Brown to be hanged and Herrick to receive one hundred lashes. Walton