The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [132]
21. WASHINGTON
JULY 31, 1777
THE ARMY HAD HALTED AT THE RIVER CROSSINGS ABOVE TRENTON, waiting for his order to advance into Pennsylvania. As confident as Washington was that Philadelphia was Howe’s target, he could not escape his nagging discomfort of marching so much of his strength away from the Hudson River.
The British were masters of the sail, and the spies in New York estimated that Howe’s fleet numbered well over two hundred ships, from the large men-o-war, down to the small gunboats. Movement on that scale was difficult at best, and any inclement weather could cause chaos for so many ships moving in unison along the same route. The fleet would surely take the shortest path, minimizing their vulnerability, and the one direct artery that led to Philadelphia was the Delaware River.
Washington had constructed small outposts along the river on the southern New Jersey shore, fortified positions that were unlikely to keep the British away, but could at least give Washington the information he was so anxious to receive. Once Howe’s fleet was spotted, Washington could feel much more secure about marching his army into Pennsylvania.
For over a week nothing had been heard, and he rode through the streets of Trenton exercising his nervousness, waiting for any word of the location of Howe’s massive force. Much of the damage in town had been repaired, few signs remaining of the battles, or from the occupation by the British and Hessian troops. Most of the citizens were back to their daily routine, and when the homes were empty, or the storefronts shuttered, it was presumed that the owners were Tories, many of whom had escaped the wrath of their neighbors by fleeing to New York.
His troops were kept outside of town, no need to risk any kind of confrontation with the citizens. But the activity in the streets showed no sign that these people were at war with anybody. He rode past merchants who mostly ignored him, took the horse down along the Assunpink, crossed the bridge his men had fought so hard to control. He prodded the horse up the ridge, could still see patches of blackened ash, where his men had built their great campfires, disguising his march toward Princeton. He did not stop, had already moved beyond the memory, could not focus on a victory now long past. The details in his mind were on what lay ahead, the anguish at Howe’s disappearance, the message the next courier might bring. He knew there was only one certainty for his army. Along the Delaware River, they were completely removed from Howe’s strategy, caught in between the possibilities. There might be clumsiness in the movements of the naval armada, but there was also strength. There were British troops still in New York, but Washington knew that Howe had been reinforced by London, could have nearly twenty thousand troops on those ships, a great fist of power that could suddenly appear anywhere, could be landed ashore and marched inland long before Washington could maneuver to meet them. If he was wrong about Howe’s intent, Washington could not chance a march closer to Philadelphia. If Howe’s massive force suddenly appeared again in New York Harbor, not only the Hudson River Valley, but most of New Jersey could be captured, wrapped up under British control without much of a fight.
He eased the horse down toward the wide river, could see the boats were already in place, manned by the Marbleheaders, the fishermen who had not gone home. It was his one advantage, a smaller army crossing a river with its own craft. If Washington had to move his men quickly, the river would not delay his march, and if Howe surprised him, made a sudden push toward a confrontation, the river was a perfect defensive line.
He turned the horse, the hooves sloshing through the soft muddy ground, the men on the riverbank standing aside, some raising hats, low cheers,