The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [221]
“General Cornwallis, if you do not mind, I would like to go inside. The heat is tiring me.”
He moved closer to Knyphausen, said, “Of course. May I assist you?”
“No, thank you. Captain Hausman will appear, once he sees we are moving to the house. He is observing us now, you can be certain.”
The door opened on the wide front porch, and the young Hessian was there, moved out to the top of the steps, waiting for instructions. Knyphausen reached the steps, began to climb, stopped, said, “General, I do not know what the future holds. But I do not agree with you. Wars do not just fade away, armies do not just go home. I do not know what will occur in New York, or what our duty will be. A great many things could still happen which we cannot predict. As you say, Mr. Washington is still out there. And, it is a long march.”
JUNE 18, 1778
For nearly a week, Admiral Howe had supervised the transport of the army’s supply train, twelve hundred wagons and five thousand horses ferried across the Delaware River. Now, it was time to ferry the troops as well.
The order put the army into motion at 3:00 A.M. The men had been given four days’ food rations, but the first leg of the march would take them only five miles. The ships were waiting, and the column moved quickly, men lining up at the makeshift wharves at Gloucester Point. Cornwallis had ridden beside them, had heard a low litany of curses and indiscreet comments from men hidden in darkness. But there would be no punishment. He would say nothing to these men who understood as well as he did that no matter the official tone of the orders, no matter the positive pronouncements from headquarters for a new and glorious campaign, this march was not about anyone’s glory. The army was simply abandoning its post.
Before the first light of dawn, his men were marching onto the ships, filling the holds and lower decks. He stayed on the shore, handed the reins of his horse to a groom, watched as the animal was led across a narrow plank to a small flatboat, the ferry for the mounts of the senior command. Across the river the sun was breaking through dull gray dawn, the New Jersey shoreline now visible. He watched the sailors, men climbing up, working the ropes and rigging of the ship, orders called out, and he saw Lord Howe, moving quickly along the wharf. The man cut a narrow figure in the dull light, so unlike the portly mass that was his brother. The admiral saw Cornwallis, moved toward him, said, “Ah, General. Best get aboard. This one’s ready to cross.”
“Thank you, sir, yes, only a moment.”
He looked back along the road, concerned for stragglers. It was an excuse, a reason for delay, for standing just a bit longer on the ground in Pennsylvania. He scolded himself, thought, This is a duty for the provosts. There is nothing left behind, nothing about this place to hold in our memories. We did our duty, made our conquest. Our success will be judged by history, and by King George. I have only one concern, and it is already on board these ships.
He heard hoofbeats, saw a horseman coming quickly through the dull light, the man waving, calling out. Lord Howe was beside him now, watched as he watched. The man rode up close, and Cornwallis could see a bouncing mass of baggage, boxes and sacks tied to the saddle. Now he could see the man. It was John André.
“Ah, Admiral Howe! General! Very good! I pray you hold just a moment! It took me longer than I thought to secure this. May I be allowed to board, sirs?”
Lord Howe moved by Cornwallis, said, “Board immediately. We are departing.”
The admiral was gone, no patience for conversation, and André climbed down from the horse, said, “General, you will find this amusing, I’m sure. I was quartered at the home belonging to none other than Benjamin Franklin himself! Jolly rich, that. I took it upon myself to, ah, strike a blow for the king, as it were. Yes. Look here, marvelous.”
Cornwallis could see now, the horse was burdened with all manner of personal effects, and André pulled back a cloth, revealing a painting.