out past the rocks. All down through the cliff side, the rest of the guns answered, and he flattened his hands over his ears, stared out through the smoke. Across the river, he could see sharp flashes, more smoke, the guns in Fort Washington responding, and now in the river, the water around the ships erupted in tall plumes. The soldiers along the rocks began cheering, the fight distinctly one way, and he felt their spirit, raised his fist in the air. But the mood passed, and he thought, This is too simple, too foolish. Why do they attempt this? The cannon nearest him fired again, and he caught the officer’s attention, made a sign with his hands, stop, cease fire. Let’s see what we’ve done. The guns gradually fell silent, and quickly the smoke began to clear, the same breeze that filled the British sails. The frigate had turned slightly toward him, the transports close behind. The frigate had not fired at all, and he thought, All right, there is no need for a broadside, so you will make yourself a smaller target. The ship abruptly began to tack the other way, swinging back to broadside, then turning the other direction, its bow angled toward the far shore. Now the transports began following the same course, a careful, winding route. Across the river, Magaw’s guns were still firing, holes appearing in the sails, one shot cracking a mast on the frigate. But still the ships moved upriver, sliding through the barrier. The frigate was past the last of the entanglements, had cleared the obstructions, the sails filling again. It swung about defiantly broadside, resuming its course upriver. Greene turned again to the artillery officer, who was waiting for his signal. The guns came to life again, the smoke once more blocking his view of the river. He could see Putnam in his mind, the fat old man who was so very sure of himself. There was one piece of the plan that Putnam had thought so very clever: a secret route through the barricade, mapped out only for the commanders, to allow any colonial ship to negotiate safely through the barrier. Well, General Putnam, your secret is out. Somehow, by the treachery of some deserter, some spy, somehow they know. And if they can make their way safely by day, it won’t take them long to do it by night. And then, we are in serious trouble.
NOVEMBER 12, 1776
If we cannot prevent vessels passing up, and the enemy are possessed of the surrounding country, what valuable purpose can it answer to attempt to hold a post from which the expected benefit cannot be had? I am therefore inclined to think that it will not be prudent to hazard the men and stores at Mount Washington, but as you are on the spot, leave it up to you to give such orders as to evacuating Mount Washington as you judge best.
Greene was grateful for the tone of Washington’s orders, appreciated that Washington would not make firm decisions without knowing the situation. He had put the paper away in his small desk with a sense of pride because he knew the order meant one other thing as well. The commanding general trusted him.
The comfortable feelings had drained away quickly, and Greene knew that staying in Fort Lee put him too far away from what could become an immediate problem. He had returned to Fort Washington, met with Magaw, who continued to be confident, insisting that no British force could carry those heights, that only a protracted and costly siege could loosen their hold on that wonderful ground. Greene could not tell Magaw to withdraw, not in the face of the man’s absolute certainty. But that order was Greene’s to give, and he sat alone in the small house that was his office, wrestling with both sides of the question. If he stayed put, and took Magaw at his word, a British attack could cost Howe a decisive battle. If Magaw was wrong, and Fort Washington was captured, the loss to the army in men and equipment would be devastating. He could not escape Washington’s order, the words deep in his mind: as you judge best.
It was late in the day, and he could smell food, the fires already lit. His headquarters was just inland