On the 20th of May a strong wind suddenly arose (simply good fresh air as the sailors said), but the water became rough, the waves struck over the decks, and all fires were ordered to be put out; porpoises made their appearance in great numbers, the sight of which was cheering especially to the officers who shot at them; little was it supposed by them then that these porpoises were but the forerunners of an approaching storm. On the 25th the whole sky became clouded over with dark and heavy clouds, the air became close and sultry, and the Commodore had shots fired frequently as a signal to prevent the scattering of the ships. The wind and waves became more violent from hour to hour during the night of the 25th to the 26th, and on Whitsunday the full force of the storm was felt. The Commodore gave the signal to draw in all sails except one and to remove the uppermost parts of the masts. The ships were being scattered far apart. In the cabins all articles, though tied fast, were broken loose and were thrown helter-skelter, the occupants likewise, many with bruised limbs, and there was no end to the spells of seasickness and of misery made ridiculous. The storm was ever growing worse. On the second day the last sail was drawn in, and the rudder bound fast, so that now the ship was left to its fate. The raging sea was playing with the gigantic structure of the ships as with a toy; sailors were swallowed up by the waters, others committed suicide and soldiers who ventured to go on deck fell down unconscious because of the force of the waves. Only one consolation remained, namely, the clarified atmosphere; but on the third day of Whitsuntide dark gloomy clouds and torrents of rain darkened the whole firmament, the winds seemed to be let loose, sounding like roaring thunder, all nature seemed to have united in bringing to young America a terrible funeral feast. While thousands are pleading here for the protection of Heaven a furious wrathful indignation rages in the American pulpit scattering its curses and, praying to God and the Savior, dedicates the fleet to destruction.
With a loud and deafening roar the huge waves wash over the ships; the decks and every port-hole had to be made extra tight. The soldiers were lying in the lower compartments as if buried alive in coffins, gasping in the darkness after air and water; from moment to moment the most of them, quiet and depressed, expected to go out of this dark night into the eternal day of heaven. Still on the next day the storm was raging and the heavy sea also continued, and this threatened to break the ships to pieces; but the clouds broke, the great downfall of rain ceased, the air became clear, the wind subsided, and in the evening at 10 o’clock the storm had stopped entirely—only the seething waters were still roaring and placed the ships in even greater danger. It was not until the morning of the 30th that this violent sea had spent its fury; sound sleep reinvigorated exhausted nature; and when the soldiers and sailors awoke to the beautiful day and looked out upon the glittering, smooth, quiet sea, and saw how little by little the ships drew closer together, they each and everyone felt as if they had awakened to a new day of creation. The kitchen fires were again glowing, the kettles were steaming, the provisions, clothing and bed linen, all so thoroughly wet through, were dried, everywhere repairs were undertaken, the masts were again properly set up, and the sails spread; on the decks praises to God were sung with fervent feelings of gratitude in devout meetings of prayer.
The religious, sympathetic feelings certainly prevail in the deeply rooted piety of our (Hessian) people. It was customary on all ships that as often as the weather and the motion of the vessel permitted it, a prayer meeting should be held every morning and every evening and a preaching service on Sundays. Though not obliged to attend, yet one could regularly see the soldierly religious congregation assembled, standing with uncovered heads and filled with devotion, drawn thither by the inner voice of conscience. If the sea were rough then one could hear the people from their resting places starting up religious hymns. Communion with God was necessary for the soul; more urgently did the present remind of eternity, and the very recent past give grounds for gratitude. The ordinary man had in lieu of other songs learned to sing his religious hymns at school, and he sang these even during his march against the enemy. It was not a book of epic poems that accompanied him on his expeditions, it was a small book of prayer, which even now is a chief constituent part of the small bookshops of the Hessian peasant-folk, so precious to him because of the divine power of its influence, to his mind a pure, old, genuine “Jesus wine.” This was the well known “Habermännchen,” the epic poem and the private chapel of the warrior as well as of the serving man. And not alone with the exalted spectacle of divine omnipotence on the furious or rapturous sea—but even in the camps and quarters the masses of soldiers did not neglect public worship any more than they neglected a simple military duty. So with the ancient fear of God of the patriarchs in their hearts the Hessian people landed on the soil of America.
The dispersion of the fleet had obliged a halt of three days, during which time the frigates sailed in all directions, collecting the ships by means of cannon shots, yet this was not entirely successful; fifteen battered ships had opened their sealed orders and had sailed on ahead to Halifax, the goal designated therein. The contrary winds prevented the advance of the fleet. It appeared in great grandeur on the 4th of June; this was the birthday of King George III. In unusual splendor did the day shine, on all vessels the red English flag was waving, on all war ships and all frigates, twenty-one cannon shots resounded at noon and the transport ships were only too glad to follow with their joyful celebrations. But on the ship Unanimity an unfortunate pistol shot was fired in the morning. A captain of the life-guards, Count von der Lippe, offended one of his subordinates, Lieutenant Kleinschmidt, because he, though accidentally, had caused his dog to give a cry of pain, and with coarse words demanded an immediate pistol duel without witnesses. The lieutenant gave his opponent a mortal wound. The one was descended from a sovereign house, the other of humble civil origin, yet according to the ancient chivalrous views, which at all times prevail in the military profession, they were equals. The court-martial, also in consequence thereof, acquitted the lieutenant. This is the proceeding followed in accordance with all proper army regulations: the highest officer next to the count takes the lieutenant’s sword, places a sentinel over him, made a request, by means of a speaking-trumpet, of the commodore, whose ship fortunately was quite near, for a clever English surgeon (as the Hessian Army generally had but few well qualified army surgeons) and then takes a boat to the ship Elizabeth to make a report to the Lieutenant-General. Immediately a court-martial is ordered, Lieutenant Kleinschmidt, under arrest, is taken to the ship of the staff of the regiment, and the staff-surgeon-major and the chief staff-chaplain were sent to the count. The former could do nothing except to leave the dying man to the services of the latter. In prayer with the chaplain, during which time a religious service was being held on deck, the count departed this life. Thereupon the adjutants of the general took an inventory of the effects of the deceased, an autopsy was held to determine the cause of death, then, dressed in his military suit, placed into a hammock weighted down with stone, and sewed in white canvas, without any further formality, his body was consigned to the sea.
Dense fogs had fallen; in order to keep the ships together frequent shots were fired from the commodore’s ship; the danger of knocking against one another was unavoidable. The ships, Happy Jeanette and Henrietta, because of the carelessness on the part of the former, ran against each other at a time when the winds were strong and the sails were set full, so that the latter very nearly capsized, and, hard-pressed by the former, could not again right itself. On all faces there was the picture of death; and panic arose. The soldiers of the regiment von Ditfurth, driven to despair, endeavored to leap upon the Jeanette and those of the regiment Prince Karl tried to save their lives on the Happy, and only with difficulty were they prevented from doing an act of foolhardiness which would have cost the lives of many. After repeated knocks the two ships were finally parted; in the Henrietta a great hole had been made—only one foot lower down and in a few minutes nothing more would have been seen of the ship. There were on this ship Captain von Malsburg, the Lieutenants von Ditfurth, von Malsburg, von Bardeleben, and Ensign von Schachten.
A new drama took place soon after the 10th of June. A frigate brought the orders to set all ships and cannon in defensive condition; an East Indian ship had reported the proximity of many American privateers. One of these had even been captured. The Hessian officers thereupon set all cannon in order and arranged for the distribution of the men in the case of an attack. The commodore remained now in the middle of the fleet, a frigate had to stay at the head in his place, and the others had to be all the more active, everywhere in the fleet, as commodore’s messengers, to keep up the order and to search every strange vessel. Even the transport vessels received orders in case they should discover a strange vessel to display a red flag at the stern of the ship until the commodore by means of a similar signal has indicated that he has taken cognizance of the information. Almost to the very tops of the masts the guards on watch could be seen. More frequently than ever the stragglers now received the usual warning (always with a fine of money imposed), namely, several sharp cannon shots which struck close to them. The same was the case with those ships which sailed too fast in advance of the others. As soon as the commodore had given the signal by means of the flag-language, one could see the marines and the sailors on the men-of-war practice fully armed and equipped and with such great zeal carry on a naval battle exercise as certainly cannot be shown any better in a real battle. By means of bags of sand the decks were protected against cannon shot from the side; back of these, men with muskets; at different places the auxiliary troops; at the middle mast the chief sentry; between the masts a sort of pile structure for defense was built up to accommodate smaller cannon and soldiers; with uncommon dexterity the artillery was managed; and at last the sailors with lances and other like weapons hurried on deck to drill for defense in order to prevent the enemy from mounting the ship.
With many a change of wind and weather, of calm and turbulent sea, of joyous or anxious feeling, the great sandbanks of New Foundland were reached on the 20th of June.
A mighty sea of breakers indicates the location of these sandbanks; upon their precipitous rocky walls covered forty fathoms high by the sea, the restless ocean waves are beating and are with a like force repelled. The winds go howling over them; dense, cold fogs always cover these regions. In order to warm the ships against colliding, the drums, foghorns and ship bells were resounding day and night on all ships. In order to prevent their being separated too far from one another a cannon shot was fired every half hour on the commodore’s ship. Nevertheless many ships drifted from their course; fourteen of them were found by a fire ship and conducted to Halifax. For three or four days the ships remained in the vicinity of the sandbanks. The many phenomena seen there increased the astonishment of the ordinary man concerning the wonders of the sea, which had here appeared to him: the whale, swimming majestically; and the spongy mass polyps, scarcely with the organization of a living creature; multitudes of porpoises, which pursued with amusing leaps out of the water the course of the flying fish, and the latter then fell down upon the decks, where they found a more certain death; shoals of dolphins, which followed the ships with their glittering colors, and often were reached by the harpoon or other weapon thrown at them; in the dark night countless brilliant, fiery stripes, generated by a school of fishes swiftly passing through the waters; turtles, caught for the tables of the gentlemen; whole swarms of wild ducks; above all the enormous quantity of cod fish, which had caused several fleets of French, British and Norwegian fishing smacks to be gathered here, and now enriched the kitchens of the army fleet.
On the 25th of June the sandbanks were left behind and from the damp, biting cold, against which even the protection of a fur mantle was of no avail, the expedition experienced a warm, beautiful day and soon again many changes of weather. The great number of whales now to be seen indicated the proximity of the coast of Nova Scotia. A green fir tree, which was floating on the waters, brought still more joyful tidings. The ever diminishing depth of the sea on July 3rd gave rise to the hope that yet before evening land would come into sight, but as heavy fogs and strong winds set in it became necessary to avoid the probable dangers by returning to the deeper ocean. Ever following a course of approaching and then leaving the coast, and experiencing another heavy thunder storm, which tore the sails to pieces, it was with indescribable joy that the coast of Nova Scotia came to view on the 7th at break of day. As soon as the anchoring place of Halifax was reached the commodore signaled to the fleet to gather and sail before the wind. Now those ships came along and rejoined the fleet which had become lost in the fogs and had anchored several days previously in the harbor. They greeted the commodore with fifteen shots and he replied with eleven. From these ships much information was gained, and especially did they bring joyful news about the ship Malaga, which had become totally lost to all appearances in the Whitsuntide storm, and which with all on board, a company of the life-guards, under Captain Waldenberg, had already been given up as lost. Its bowsprit was gone and it had suffered considerable damage too, but it had had the good fortune to bring to Halifax a French ship which was carrying munitions of war to the Americans. A reward of 2,000 pounds sterling had been granted to the commander and his troops—but in course of time this was paid out to the commanders of the English men-of-war. Having joined the great British fleet it had followed the commander in chief, General Howe, to the new rendezvous of the squadron and of the army.
Howe had already begun his career with blunders and perplexities. He had been selected through an unfortunate vote conducted by his party and so was entrusted with an affair, the nature of which demanded, in the midst of the transactions of considerate love, the speediest progress of arms and the greatest decision of character. Instead of leaving Boston, the firebrand of the war, so important because of its location, either not at all, or at such an early time that the state of New York which was still chiefly loyal could be saved, he started for Halifax so inopportunely, that meanwhile the power of the Congress was made felt in New York, and prepared there the strongest defence; Howe finally made Rhode Island his destination, and changed his mind during the trip, and at last aimed for New York, when the commodore, William Hotham, collected before Halifax the previously given sealed orders from the several ship captains and had designated Rhode Island as the new destination, a frigate brought the again changed instruction to fix as rendezvous the lighthouse of Sandy Hook.