The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [118]
He opened the second bottle, glanced at the instruction, wet his handkerchief from the bottle, wiped it over the blank paper. Instantly, his name reappeared. He let out a laugh, looked at the paper closely, thought, Well, now, this can very well ensure that our dispatches can be moved about without Mr. Stormont or anyone else knowing our intent. All credit to James Jay. He has invented invisible ink.
AS THE SPRING WARMED THE AIR, FRANKLIN STAYED CLOSE TO HIS OFFICE, responding to the letters from congress, passing along the continuing flow of requests to Vergennes and the French court. Despite the willingness of Vergennes to meet with him, despite the success of the carefully planned arrangements with Deane’s contacts, there was still no formal alliance with the French. Franklin understood that French support would remain limited, that neither France nor England was eager to begin a new war. All Franklin could do was press on, still confident that Vergennes would continue to speak to his king about assistance to America. But both men knew that Louis would remain cautious, and Franklin had to concede that with the new spring would come a new British strategy, and a new campaign. So much would depend on the news that came from America.
19. CORNWALLIS
MAY 1777
WHILE HOWE AND MOST OF THE SENIOR COMMANDERS HAD SPENT their winter quarters nestled into the social comforts of New York, Cornwallis had been with his troops still stationed between Brunswick and Amboy. The weather had been unusually mild, the late winter mostly chilly and damp, and the tedious boredom so common to winter quarters was made worse by intermittent warm spells, which thawed the frozen ground to a muddy swamp. A warm winter breeds disease, and entire squads were brought down by sickness. As the supply sergeants attempted to feed the troops from the farms in the area, they came under constant attack from small bands of militia, who would strike hard, then melt away into the brush. What should have been minor foraging missions became large-scale troop movements, entire companies of redcoats required to protect every small wagon of confiscated supplies. By the end of January, Cornwallis had learned that foraging the countryside of New Jersey had become a waste of time. The Tory farmers were long gone, fearing reprisals from local militia, and any barn that might hold precious grain or horses was just as likely to contain a company of rebel marksmen.
The only alternative supply line came from New York, from the occupied farmlands of Long Island and Staten Island. But the naval crews suffered as much as the infantry, boats unloading in Amboy peppered by deadly musket fire from grassy fields along the water. Any boat attempting to move up the Raritan was subject to cannon fire from guns hidden by Washington in strategic positions along the northern banks of the river.
As bad as conditions were for the men, it was worse for the horses. Without fresh forage, many simply died, and those who survived were so weakened they were useless as mounts for the dragoons.
As the sun finally warmed the ground, the sickness began to ease, and every man in Cornwallis’ army welcomed the blessed spring. Cornwallis knew the mood of his men. As the stifling wooden huts were replaced by white canvas tents, every soldier turned his thoughts toward the north, where Washington still held his army. The British probed and scouted the ground toward Morristown as far as Washington’s skirmishers would allow, brief sharp fights that bruised both sides. But Cornwallis already knew that Washington had found an ideal place to defend, and the army could only launch their assaults on small rebel outposts, or attempt quick strikes at supply stations, where Washington might be storing munitions. The only way to bring Washington