The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [36]
The hours passed, the boats were full, and Cornwallis watched as the rest of the plan moved into precise action. Out in the river, five of Lord Howe’s warships had moved into a single line, were now positioned close to the Manhattan shoreline. As the ships made their way upstream, there had been only a scattering of artillery fire from the rebel positions, and the message was clear. Washington’s cannon were simply not there in force, and the naval observers were certain that the only concentration of artillery around the city was still nestled into the rebel battery at the southern tip of the island. But even that threat was not enough to prevent Lord Howe from moving additional men-o-war up the Hudson River, on the west side of Manhattan Island. While Cornwallis waited to begin the short trip across the East River, he knew that the navy’s big guns were already in position to cut off any rebel retreat into New Jersey. The immense size of the island might provide a number of defensive options for Washington, but it also put him at a disadvantage. There was simply no way the rebels could protect every place the British could anchor their warships, and no way to guard every possible location the British army could put ashore.
The flatboats moved out at six, Clinton leading the first wave, while Cornwallis followed close behind. The army was divided into three parts, and de Heister had requested that General Howe place Colonel Karl von Donop in command of the third segment of the invasion. Howe had not objected, would likely have allowed de Heister any latitude the old Hessian wanted. After Long Island, there was no doubt that the Hessians were a fierce and reliable ally.
The first light of the dawn provided the grand show: The flatboats again were in motion, oars breaking through the glassy calm of the river. As at Gravesend Bay three weeks before, the armada contained nearly ninety boats, fifty men in each, all making their way toward the landing point. As the light grew, so did the magnificence of the show. In the vast spreading formation, the uniforms of the British and Hessian troops covered the black water in great patches of color. Cornwallis could feel the pure energy, his impatience and anguish at the delays wiped away by the spectacular sight.
Down to the south, a rumble of cannon rolled toward them, and the men in the boats turned in one motion, questioning, wondering whose guns they were. Cornwallis paid no attention, knew that the navy had begun shelling the rebel battery in the city. No one expected Washington to be fooled by Lord Howe’s cannon, that the rebels would believe the landing was coming right at their greatest strength. There was no hiding this great sea of flatboats. Cornwallis knew it was simply good tactics, a diversion to keep the rebel artillery occupied, holding them in one place.
His own boat pulled farther from the shore of Long Island, closer to the line of great ships that would give them protection. Around him, the voices grew, the sense of awe infecting the men, and the flatboat was soon passing close behind one of the navy frigates, the Rose, anchored broadside to the shore. The men in his boat were waving, some calling out, a breach of discipline, but Cornwallis said nothing, could see the sailors above them responding, could hear their cheers. Yes, they know. We are already a victorious army, and no power on this continent can stand up to us.
On the far shore, Cornwallis could see a long row of turned-up earth, motion behind, men gathering along the shore, rebels