The Glorious Cause - Jeff Shaara [64]
Above him, a lookout called out, and he saw the man pointing to the south, down the river. Greene stood, leaned out, could see a ship, now three, sails full of wind, moving north. The lookout waved his hat, a short cheer, “Yeee! They’re comin’ again!”
Greene watched the artillerymen scrambling into position, the big guns prepared, bags of powder carried forward from the storage cellars deep in the rocks.
The ships were moving in single file, and now his spyglass was there, the good work of an aide, and Greene held it up, studied for a moment, said aloud, “One frigate. The other two are not warships. Transports, perhaps.”
Around him, men were gathering along the edge of the drop-off, filling in the spaces between the cannon. He looked out across the river, could see the line of brush in the channel, the tangle of masts and broken timbers that barricaded the river. Well, he thought, we’ll see if this time we have done it correctly.
As he had done off the shore of Brooklyn Heights, Israel Putnam had worked out a plan to block the passage of the British ships by clogging the navigable part of the Hudson River with sunken wrecks. Various excuses had been made for the failure in the East River, and Putnam had done the work with a renewed sense of purpose. But already the British had passed through the barrier twice, and each time, Putnam had raged at his men to reinforce and improve the barrier, added more wrecks, then cut trees, floated out and lashed to the tops of the masts. Putnam was gone now, sent by Washington to command the outposts around Philadelphia. His former duties on the Hudson now fell to Greene, and Greene appreciated Putnam’s intentions, the crucial necessity of stopping the British ships from sailing upriver. If the British could move freely in the Hudson, they could sail as far as the Highlands with impunity, threatening any colonial interests along the way, from farms and supply lines to the valuable crossings that Washington would need to maintain contact with the scattered parts of his army.
The three ships were in full sail, coming closer, and he glanced back at the artillerymen, saw the officers watching him, waiting for his command to fire. The cannon could easily reach all the way to the far shore, and in Fort Washington, he knew that Magaw’s gunners would be waiting as well. If the ships were slowed down by Putnam’s barrier, they could be seriously damaged by the colonial guns. If the barrier took hold of the ships and tangled them in place, the cannon would blow them apart.
No longer needing the spyglass, he leaned out on a tall spire of rock, easily able to see the open gun ports of the frigate, thought, Probably a thirty-two-gunner. The other two ships were slightly smaller, and the strategy opened up in his mind. Of course, the two transports . . . this is a test. They would not risk three warships, the loss would be too great. The transports are probably lightly manned, the crews prepared to abandon ship if necessary. Well, then, we’ll see if General Putnam knows his engineering.
The frigate was within a hundred yards of the first barriers, and he could see the sails sagging slightly, the ship slowing. It was the first sign he would need. He turned, pointed to the cannon closest to him, a massive thirty-two-pounder, and the gun roared to life, a sharp blast of smoke and flame that blew