The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [25]
“General Washington, if you mean to be concerned about the British navy, you know my feelings on that. We have made the necessary precautions to keep them out of the river. There is no danger here.”
Glover tilted his head at Putnam, seemed to squint, and Washington knew Glover would make his point, would explain what Washington already believed to be true.
“You may speak freely here, Colonel Glover.”
“Well, sir, I understand that your generals and such have a poor opinion of the British sailor. With all respects, sir, can’t say I agree.” He paused, looked hard at Washington, said, “All those sunken wrecks are a fine thing. But I’ve spent my life slippin’ and cuttin’ my way through rocks and whatnot, and if I know something about those lobster-backs out there, they been doin’ a fair amount of the same. A good helmsman can get his boat past just about anything, especially in protected water like this here river. And, beggin’ your pardon, sir, but if I was Mister Admiral Lord Howe, and I saw those little masts pokin’ up at me out there, I’d simply take a flock of my smallest ketches, put one good heavy gun on each stern, raising the bow up high, and when the slack tide come, I’d pick my way right past that barricade. Then I’d commence to bustin’ up the place. This place.”
Putnam laughed now, said, “Colonel, I admire your, um, charming descriptions. But if Lord Howe agreed with your observations, then why hasn’t he done exactly that? With all respect to your . . . seafaring skills, I have yet to see one ship sail within range of this position.”
Washington pointed his finger to the rustle of the canvas above them.
“It’s the wind, General. Colonel Glover, am I correct that since this action began, the wind has come from the north?”
Glover was all seriousness now, said, “General Washington, in my opinion, sir, we are able to stand safely here and have this little soirée for one reason only. The mouth of this river opens to the south. We have been blessed with a gale from the north that has prevented the British from entering the river. Forgive me, General Putnam, but I believe it is that wind, and that wind only, that has kept the British navy from sending a fleet right up our backsides. Sir.”
The rain was slackening, and Washington could see a glimpse of the sunset, breaking through the clouds in the west.
“Gentlemen, if any of those warships make their way upriver . . .” He paused, saw the faces all watching him. There were no arguments, and his mind had formed the plan, the only opportunity his army might have to fight another day.
“Colonel Glover, can your boats be made ready in short order?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Then make ready. We are withdrawing from this position.”
HE LEFT A SMALL FORCE ALONG THE RAMPARTS, GUARDING AGAINST A sudden move by the British. All through the night, Glover’s Marblehead Regiment ferried the troops away and across the river, to the safety of Manhattan. Most of his army never knew his orders, had been told that they were being replaced by fresh troops, the only way Washington knew of preventing a panic, a mad noisy scramble to the boats. As the men marched to the water’s edge, they were warned against sound, no mistake that might give the British some hint of what was happening. It was not perfect, and Washington could not keep the operation immune to human error. One section of the works was left completely unguarded for over an hour while the men marched away in the wrong order. But the error was corrected, and through the long night, few sounds came from the British camps. By midnight, the clouds had cleared away, and the wind was nearly calm, no longer a barrier to Lord Howe’s navy. But the British ships would not move at night, would still have to negotiate the obstructions in the river, and so Glover’s troop-laden boats crossed and recrossed the river unmolested.
Washington stayed on his horse, kept close to