Elsie on the Hudson Part 12

"The loss of these forts was a grief to Washington, and he determined to make an effort to recover them, for their loss endangered West Point. He soon ordered an attack upon them by the Americans under the command of Generals Wayne and Howe. Wayne had his quarters at Sandy Beach, fourteen miles from Stony Point, and on the morning of July 15 all the Ma.s.sachusetts light infantry was marched to that place. It was an exceedingly sultry day, and the march--begun at noon, taking them through narrow defiles, over rough crags, and across deep mora.s.ses--must have been hard indeed; they moved in single file and at eight in the evening rendezvoused a mile and a half below Stony Point.

They rested there while Wayne and several other officers reconnoitred the enemy's works. Then they formed into column, and moved silently forward under the guidance of a negro slave belonging to a Captain Lamb living in the neighborhood."

"New York was a slave State at that time?" exclaimed Sydney inquiringly.

"Yes," replied Captain Raymond; "England had forced slavery upon her Colonies here, and it was not yet abolished. Captain Lamb was a warm Whig, and Pompey seems to have been one also. Soon after the British took possession of the fort, he ventured to carry strawberries there for sale; the men of the garrison were glad to get them, and Pompey became quite a favorite with the officers, who had no suspicion that he was regularly reporting everything to his master.

"At length Pompey told them that his master would not allow him to come with his fruit in the daytime, because it was now hoeing-corn season. The officers, unwilling to lose their supply of luxuries, then gave him their countersign regularly so that he could pa.s.s the sentries in the evening. He had it on the night of the attack, and gave it to the Americans, who used it as their watchword when they scaled the ramparts. It was 'The fort's our own.'"

"And they could say it with truth," laughed Lucilla; "for the fort was really theirs--stolen from them by the British."

"The fortress seemed almost impregnable," resumed her father; "built upon a huge rocky bluff, an island at high water, and always inaccessible dryshod,--except across a narrow causeway in the rear,--it was strongly defended by outworks and a double row of abatis. There was a deep and dangerous mora.s.s on one side, and on the other three were the waters of the Hudson."

"And was the rock too high and steep to climb, papa?" asked Ned.

"Yes, indeed! But our men were brave and persevering fellows; Wayne, their leader, believed in the old saying 'Where there's a will there's a way.' He practiced upon that, and in consequence was very successful. He was so rapid and earnest in what he did that people took to calling him 'Mad Anthony Wayne.'

"Now, he resolved to storm this fort at all hazards, as Lossing says, and only waited for the ebbing of the tide and the deep first slumber of the garrison.

"At half-past eleven o'clock that night the Americans began a silent march toward the fort. Two strong men disguised as farmers, and the negro Pompey, went first. There was no barking of dogs to arouse the garrison, for they had all been killed--all in that neighborhood--the day before. Pompey gave the countersign to the first sentinel on the high ground west of the mora.s.s, then the two disguised men suddenly seized and gagged him. The same thing was done with the sentinel at the causeway. Then, as soon as the tide ebbed sufficiently, the greater part of Wayne's little army crossed the mora.s.s at the foot of the western declivity of the promontory, no one among the enemy observing them. Three hundred men under General Muhlenburg remained as a reserve in the rear. The troops were divided into two columns--all with unloaded muskets and fixed bayonets. At a little past midnight the advance parties moved silently to the charge, one on the northern and the other on the southern part of the height. The two main divisions followed them, one led by Wayne himself. The Americans were not discovered by the British until they were within pistol shot of the pickets on the heights, when a skirmish took place between the advance guards and the sentinels.

"The Americans used only their bayonets, as they had been ordered, but the pickets fired several shots; and those sounds of strife waked the garrison, and the silence of the night was broken by the loud cry 'To arms! to arms!' the roll of the drum, the rattle of musketry from the ramparts and the abatis, and the roar of the cannon, charged with deadly grapeshot, from the embrasures. It was a terrible storm, but our brave fellows forced their way through it--through every obstacle--until the vans of all the columns met in the centre of the works, where they arrived at the same time. Each of our men had a white paper in his hat which, as it could be seen in the dim light, enabled him to distinguish friend from foe."

"I think Wayne was wounded in the fight, wasn't he?" asked Mr. Leland.

"Yes," replied the captain; "at the inner abatis he was struck on the head by a musket ball, the blow causing him to fall to his knees. His aides, Fishbow and Archer, raised him to his feet and carried him gallantly through the works. He believed himself mortally wounded, and exclaimed as he arose, 'March on, carry me into the fort, for I will die at the head of my column!' But, fortunately, he was not so badly wounded as he supposed, and was able to join in the loud huzzas which arose when the two victorious columns met within the fort.

"The garrison surrendered as prisoners of war, and I am glad and proud to say were treated with clemency by the victors. Not a life was taken after the flag was struck and quarter asked for."

"Was anybody killed before that, papa?" asked Little Elsie in anxious tones.

"Yes, daughter," he replied; "15 Americans lost their lives and 83 were wounded; 63 of the British were killed and their commander and 543 officers and men taken prisoners. Down in the river below were some British vessels. They slipped their cables and moved down to a place of security.

"So prompt was Wayne that he did not wait for daylight to send in his report to Washington. 'Dear General: The fort and garrison with Colonel Johnson are ours. Our officers and men behaved like men who are determined to be free,' was what he wrote."

"Oh, I like that! It reminds me of Perry's despatch to Harrison after his victory on Lake Erie," exclaimed Lucilla.

"Did our people get back the other fort, uncle?" asked Eric.

"No; the guns of the Stony Point fort were turned upon it at dawn the next morning and a desultory firing kept up during the day, but delays and misunderstandings prevented an intended attack from being made in time to dislodge the garrison; Sir Henry Clinton getting news of their danger in time to send them help.

"Washington saw that we could not retain Stony Point, because he could not spare enough troops to hold it; so he ordered the stores and ordnance to be removed, the fortress to be evacuated, and the works destroyed; all of which was accordingly done on the night of the 18th."

"And did the British find out what was going on and attack our fellows?" asked Eric.

"Yes; the heavy ordnance was placed upon a galley to be conveyed to West Point; but as soon as it moved a cannonade began from Verplanck's and the British shipping near by. A heavy shot from the _Vulture_ struck the galley below water mark, and she went down near Caldwell's Landing. The British again took possession of Stony Point, but little of value was left them there except the eligible site for a fortification."

"Wayne was very much praised for the taking of Stony Point, wasn't he, papa?" asked Grace.

"Yes; the storming and capture of Stony Point was esteemed one of the most brilliant exploits of the war,--an exhibition of skill and indomitable courage,--and General Wayne, the leader of the enterprise, was everywhere greeted with rapturous applause. Congress gave him a vote of thanks. It also resolved that a gold medal, emblematic of that action, be struck and presented to General Wayne. Also, rewards were given to the other officers and to the men."

"Papa, wasn't the home of Captain Molly somewhere in this neighborhood?" asked Grace.

"Yes; Lossing tells us that she lived, at the close of the war, between Fort Montgomery and b.u.t.termilk Falls, and was generally dressed in a woman's petticoats with an artilleryman's coat over them--perhaps an old one of her husband's, for he was a cannonier.

They were both in Fort Clinton when it was taken by the British. When the Americans retreated and the British scaled the ramparts, her husband dropped his match and fled. Molly picked it up, touched off the piece, then scampered after him and the others. As you probably remember, she was again with her husband in the Battle of Monmouth, and when he was shot down took his place at the cannon and worked it through the rest of the engagement. For that act of bravery Washington rewarded her with a sergeant's commission."

"I think she deserved it," said Grace. "I admire her bravery, but I don't know what would tempt me to go into a battle."

"I should be sorry indeed to have you go into one," returned her father, regarding her with a fond smile.

The yacht was now moving rapidly down the river, all on board greatly enjoying the beautiful scenery. They landed at Tarrytown and visited the historical spots in its vicinity, among them the scene of Andre's capture and the monument to his captors.

"Why did they name this place Tarrytown, uncle?" asked Eric.

"Probably from the fact that a great deal of wheat was raised in the vicinity. 'Tarwe Town'--meaning wheat town--was what the early Dutch settlers called it.

"Those living here in Revolutionary days saw stormy scenes. There were lawless hands of marauders called Cowboys and Skinners infesting the Neutral Ground, which extended for thirty miles along the river and was plundered by both bands of outlaws without much, if any, regard to their victims' loyalty or disloyalty to the country."

"Those were bad times to live in," remarked Little Elsie. "I'd a great deal rather live in these; though I should like to have seen Washington and Wayne and Lafayette and--oh, all the rest of the good, brave men who did so much to save our country!"

"Yes," said Grandma Elsie, "but though we cannot see them here, we may hope to meet at least some of them in another and a better world."

CHAPTER IX.

A pleasant surprise awaited our party on their return to Crag Cottage that evening, the bride and groom--Rosie and her husband--having arrived during their absence. Everybody was glad to see them; and, with the accommodations of the yacht to supplement those of the house, there was room and to spare.

Finding such to be the case, and that it was very pleasant to be together, all remained Evelyn's guests for another week, in which a great deal of time was pa.s.sed upon the river taking repeated views of beautiful historic scenes.

But at length they separated for a time--some remaining where they were; some going to the seash.o.r.e; while Grandma Elsie and the Raymonds, leaving the yacht at New York City, crossed the mountains into Pennsylvania, visited some historical scenes in that State, then traveled on through Ohio from south to north, spent a few weeks among the islands of Lake Erie; then, the yacht having come to them again by the northern route, returned home in it by way of the Welland Ca.n.a.l, the St. Lawrence River, and the Atlantic Ocean. On their route through Pennsylvania they spent a few days at Pocono, visiting the points of interest about there. Wilkesbarre was their next stopping place, for they all wanted to see the beautiful Valley of Wyoming.

"Is Wyoming an English name?" asked Elsie Raymond, as they drove through the valley.

"No," said her father; "it comes from the language of the Delawares, and means 'large plains.' It is probable that the Delawares were the first tribe which lived there."

"And is Wilkesbarre an Indian name too?" she asked.

"No; it is a compound of the names of two Englishmen who were good friends to America in the times of the Revolution--John Wilkes and Colonel Barre.

"The first European to visit the valley was Count Zinzendorf,"

continued the captain. "He was of an ancient Austrian family. He was a Christian man and very earnest in trying to do good. He travelled through Germany, Denmark, and England, and in 1741 came to America and preached at Bethlehem and Germantown. He was very desirous to do the poor Indians good, so travelled about among them, though he had no companions except an interpreter. In one of these excursions he crossed the Pocono, and came into this Valley of Wyoming. At this time he had with him a missionary named Mack and his wife. They pitched their tent upon the western bank of the Susquehanna, at the foot of a high hill and near a place in the river known as Toby's Eddy.

"Not very far away was a Shawnee village. The Indians held a council there to hear what these missionaries had to say, but could not believe that they had come all the way across the Atlantic just to teach religious truth to them. The conclusion they came to was that these strangers had come to spy out their country and rob them of their lands. Thinking thus, they made up their minds to murder the count. But they feared the English, therefore instructed those appointed to do the deed to be very secret about it.

"On a cool September night two stout Indians went stealthily from the town to the missionary's temporary dwelling--a tent with a blanket hung across the doorway. They drew the blanket stealthily aside and peeped in. They made no noise, and he was not aware of their presence, as he reclined on a bundle of weeds engaged in writing or in devout meditation.

"As Lossing says: 'The benignity of his countenance filled them with awe, but an incident (strikingly providential), more than his appearance, changed the current of their feelings. The tent cloth was suspended from the branches of a huge sycamore in such a manner that the hollow trunk of the tree was within its folds. At its foot the count had built a fire, the warmth of which had aroused a rattlesnake in its den; and at the moment when the savages looked into the tent the venomous reptile was gliding harmlessly across the legs of their intended victim, who did not see either the serpent or the lurking murderers. At that sight they at once entirely changed their opinion of him and regarded him as under the special protection of the Great Spirit.' They were filled with profound reverence for him, and went back to their tribe with such an account of his holiness that their enmity was changed to veneration."