The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [129]
“There has been little change, sir. The ships are spread out in several areas of the harbor. If General Howe has some plan, he is not revealing it today.”
Washington was frowning, staring away, and Greene knew not to interrupt his thoughts. Washington glanced around him, seemed to appraise the staffs, the company of riflemen spread out down below, the skirmish line who kept their muskets toward the river.
“General Greene, will you accompany me?”
Washington moved back down the hill toward the horses, and Greene followed, could feel the man’s mood, thought, Something is wrong. He glanced back toward the harbor, No, the enemy has shown us nothing. Something of congress, perhaps? Another French peacock? The exercise was familiar, trying to cut through Washington’s deliberate routine. It was not a sport he enjoyed, a product of his impatience, but he knew that Washington was assembling his words, and Greene would just have to wait. They moved past the horses, stepped down into tall grass, away from the morning sun, the air cooler. Washington stopped, looked around them, and Greene thought, The men. He’s looking for those who might hear too much. Washington seemed satisfied they were alone, said in a low voice, “Mr. Greene, this is not a day I hoped I would ever see. I received a dispatch this morning from General St. Clair. He has abandoned Fort Ticonderoga. Burgoyne has taken possession of the fort.”
The word punched through him like a spear.
“Abandoned?”
Washington nodded slowly.
“I have not yet received a full report, but I have faith in Arthur St. Clair, and I have no reason to believe he would not perform his duty.” He paused, and Greene digested the word still in his mind. Washington said, “I had hoped the fort would be a major obstacle to the plans of General Burgoyne. Its loss is unaccountable, a most unfortunate event. Now we must make preparations. General Howe may already know of his victory. He will certainly take advantage, make every effort to combine a considerable force with Burgoyne’s army. I do not see how we can entirely prevent that.”
“Can St. Clair still fight? Is there anything to slow Burgoyne’s advance? Perhaps Burgoyne will do for us what Howe has always done. He may decide to stop at Ticonderoga and celebrate his victory. It could give us time to move troops to that front.”
Greene was running the names through his mind, the numbers, the strength they could muster toward Albany. Washington was staring down, said, “I do not know where Mr. St. Clair has gone, or his men. He only had a force of three thousand around the fort, and many of those were new recruits. Still, I believed that was adequate. The fort was a strong position. But now, whatever force St. Clair can still employ is barely a skirmish line should Burgoyne continue his march. We will send support immediately. General Gates is in active command there.”
Greene sniffed, the sound more audible than he had intended.
“Mr. Greene, we cannot afford to debate the merits of anyone’s command. The congress has deemed it proper that Horatio Gates lead that department. There is no time for argument.”
Greene looked down.
“Of course not, sir.”
It was more of the meddling, but this time a product of Gates’ own efforts, the man taking every opportunity to campaign directly to the congress for what Gates insisted was his proper place, an independent command, out from the direct control of Washington. The congress had agreed, few in Philadelphia showing any grasp of the legacy of Charles Lee, those commanders who believed their own cause outshone that of the army. But Washington had moved beyond Greene’s indiscretion.
“I wish you to send the Eleventh Virginia, Morgan’s riflemen, to accompany two regiments being detached from General Putnam’s command at Peekskill.”
“Sir, my entire division can be prepared in short order. They are ready for a fight. I will march them with all speed, sir.”
Washington held up a hand.
“No, Mr. Greene. What I require is that you remain close at hand. General Howe is still