The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [148]
The man pushed into the small office now, and Washington stared up at a fierce hulk of a man, the dark skin of an Indian.
“I am no gentleman, sir! But I do have information! If you do not withdraw this army, you will be surrounded! The British are coming across the creek at Jeffries Ford this very minute!”
Washington felt himself pushed back in his chair, pressed by the man’s thunderous voice. He could see others coming into the room, guards, men with bayonets, and the big man ignored the commotion behind him, said, “I will not speak to anyone but you, sir! You are in great peril!”
“Who are you, sir?”
The man backed away, seemed caught off guard by the question.
“I am Thomas Cheney. A farmer. I was riding along the creek up north a ways, and I ran straight into a flock of those lobster-backs!”
“Mr. Cheney, do you not think I would have been informed of this? General Sullivan . . .”
“Bah! Sullivan! I tried to tell him, and he ignores me, his men laughing, say I’m crazy-drunk. I am neither, sir!”
Tilghman was beside the man now.
“Are you aware, farmer, that spies are hanged? General, I am deeply sorry. I just returned . . . if I had been outside, he would not have been allowed to enter.”
Cheney ignored Tilghman, said, “I am not a spy, I am not a Tory, and I am not lying!” Cheney glanced at Washington’s papers, saw a map, said, “Look! See here!” He grabbed the map, ran his finger over the lines, said, “No, this is wrong! Up here, there is a ford. Jeffries! That’s where they are coming across!”
Washington felt a growing anger, blending with his frustration.
“Sir, I cannot just take your word. We have scouts in that quarter. Mr. Tilghman, escort this gentleman outside. Mr. Cheney, we will hold you here. You must understand . . .”
“Oh, I understand, sir! I will go out there and sit under a big oak tree, and watch your army get swallowed up!”
The man turned, and Tilghman followed him out, the guards moving out as well. His head was swirling, and he looked at the map. Wrong? The map is wrong? Is that man lying? How do we know?
Lafayette was in the doorway, said quietly, “Sir, General Greene has returned.”
“Yes, I’m certain he has.”
There was the sound of boots now, and Greene burst into the room, his face a black flame.
“Why, sir? We were in position, there was no sign of opposition! Why did we halt?”
“Calm yourself, General. Mr. Sullivan reports that there is no sign of the enemy upstream. From the nature of his information, it is possible that General Howe made a feint in that direction to mislead us. You might have advanced your division into the entire British army. We have no choice but to hold our position, Mr. Greene. We must know where the British strength lies. We must find General Howe.”
Greene stared at him with an open mouth, said nothing, and Washington added Greene’s impatience to his own. There was a knock at the door, and Hamilton was there, seemed surprised to see Greene, said, “General Washington, General Sullivan awaits your next instruction. He assumed that in light of his new information, you would not want to risk having his division cross the creek.”
Hamilton seemed unsure, seemed to wilt under Greene’s hard scowl. Washington felt a wave of misery now, the perfect plan, the carefully arranged trap now replaced by a complete lack of initiative.
“Mr. Hamilton, I wish you to return to General Sullivan and instruct him to continue scouting the crossings above his position. We must locate General Howe.”
Tilghman burst into the room, pointed behind him, said, “Sir! You must come!”
Tilghman was gone again, and Washington thought, What else must we endure? He pulled himself up from the chair, could hear shouts from outside, moved past Greene, who followed him outside.
The staff was all there, and