The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [134]
“No, thank you, Mr. Tilghman. We will speak of this at a later time. Be sure that the regimental commanders are instructed again. They will post provost guards on the roads. There will be no mischief in the town, the men must do nothing to anger the citizens. I do not know how long we must remain here.”
There was a horseman now, unarmed, no uniform, the man led by a squad of troops. Washington felt his heart jump, the troops now depositing the man close to him.
“Your Excellency, greetings, sir!”
It was a title Washington despised, and he frowned, but said nothing. He had tried to keep his staff from referring to him with such a regal salute, but there was one place where the word graced every document he received: Congress. The man was oblivious, said, “General Washington, I am here at the request of Congressman Morris. A courier has come to Philadelphia from your fortress on the Delaware cape. The congress is in quite a state, Your Excellency! Your presence is urgently required! The British fleet has been sighted!”
He felt his heart pounding, a flood of relief. Finally! It was no deception, no trickery after all. Howe has revealed his plan. He spun the horse, studied the faces of his aides.
“You will carry immediate word to the commanders. We will commence to cross the river with all speed, and march southward toward Philadelphia.” He looked at Tilghman now.
“Send a message to General Sullivan. Instruct him to prepare his division to march at the first word. He is to remain near the Hudson until I am absolutely certain of General Howe’s intentions. But he should be prepared to join us with all haste.”
He spurred the horse, moved toward his own camp, heard Tilghman issuing the specific instructions to each of his couriers. The word was already spreading to the men, and he rode past fresh shouts, salutes, but his mind was out in front of his army, detailing the plan for the next day, and beyond. The British would certainly sail as far upriver as their ships could navigate. The courier’s word struck him now: fortress. No, gentlemen, we have no such thing. But if we can march this army with dispatch, we can at least meet the enemy on ground of our own choosing. The congress will certainly make plans to leave the city, and that courier was correct. I must go there immediately, and advise them, do what I can to reassure them that this army is prepared. It appears the wait is over.
AUGUST 1, 1777
As Washington made his way quickly to Philadelphia, the journey was being made from a different direction as well by a young man finding his way northward from the coast of the Carolinas. The man had come from France, his ship slipping through the porous blockade the British had thrown up around the American ports. His long ride would carry him first past dismal swamps and patches of flat farm country, worked by families who spoke less of war than of survival. As he pushed northward into Virginia, the land became more forgiving, and the people seemed to change as well, many more offering their encouragement to this young visitor. He received greetings and salutes of hope and encouragement that his mission was worthy, that somewhere to the north, a very good man was leading the American army in a desperate fight, a necessary fight. The young Frenchman was welcomed even more by the small towns along the rugged coast and waterways of Maryland, from people who had given so many of their own men to the fight, who believed still in the value of their cause, and who spoke as well of this man Washington, who bore the weight of their cause. When the young man reached Philadelphia, he found a city of loud voices, meeting rooms and taverns boiling with opinions, men freely offering their great pronouncements, solutions both wise and ridiculous, hot debates not of the value of the war itself, but of the quality of the men who commanded the fight. It was here that he heard the first angry attacks on Washington from those who championed other names unfamiliar to the young man, Gates and Lee and Arnold. It was unlike anything