There was indeed reason for this considerate postscript. The mutinous spirit which had been evoked by sheer starvation, had been misinterpreted by the British officers in New York; and General Knyphausen must have been very proud of an opportunity to distinguish himself, in the absence of General Clinton, when he conceived of the poor American soldier as an unfortunate hireling waiting for a deliverer. He would become their Moses and conduct them back to the royal father’s embrace. He organized his missionary venture carefully. Accompanied by Generals Tryon, Matthews, and Sterling, he crossed from Staten Island to Elizabethtown Point. (See map.) He had a twofold plan in mind. He would demonstrate to the people of New Jersey that their half-frozen, hungry, and ragged countrymen with Washington, could not protect their homes from hostile incursions out from New York; and also supposed, in case he were very prompt and expeditious, that he might pounce, like a hawk, upon the coop of the arch-rebel himself. General Sterling led the advance, starting before daybreak. The column was hardly distinguishable, company from company, so heavy were the sea-mist and darkness. Suddenly, one shot, and then another, came from an invisible American outpost. General Sterling received the first, which ultimately proved fatal, and was removed to the rear. Knyphausen took his place at the front. The rising sun dispelled the fog, but disclosed the assembling of Colonel Elias Dayton’s Regiment, from various quarters. The anticipated surprise, and a corresponding welcome from the American soldiers, did not occur. The militia retired after a few scattering shots, and Simcoe’s Queen’s Rangers dashed forward, followed by the British and Hessian Infantry. As by magic, the militia multiplied. Fences, thickets, orchards, and single trees were made available for as many single riflemen; and at every step of advance, one and then another of his majesty’s troops were picked off. During the march to Connecticut Farms, a distance of only seven miles, no friendly tokens of welcome appeared in sight. Puffs of smoke, and the rifle’s sharp crack, could hardly be located before similar warnings succeeded, and details to take care of the wounded soon began to thin out and sag the beautiful lines of the British front. Still, the column advanced toward Springfield, and directly on the line of travel which led immediately to Washington’s encampment.
At this point, Dayton’s Regiment, which had been so troublesome as skirmishers, hastened step, came into regimental order, and quickly crossed the Rahway bridge. But, to the surprise of the advancing enemy, the division of General Maxwell was in battle array, silently inviting battle. General Knyphausen halted to bring up artillery and his full force of five thousand men. He stopped also, to burn Connecticut Farms, because, “shots from its windows picked off his officers and guides.” Among the victims to his responsive fire, was the wife of Chaplain Chapman of Dayton’s Regiment. The news of her death spread, as a spark over pine or prairie regions. When within a half mile of Springfield, the Hessian general again halted for consultation as to his next order. Cannon sounds began to be heard from various directions, answering signal for signal. The ascending smoke of beacon-fires crowned every summit. The whole country seemed to have been upheaved as if by some volcanic force. Maxwell’s Brigade was just across the Rahway, and less than one-third the strength of the Hessian’s command. But General Knyphausen was too good a soldier not to peer through Maxwell’s thin line, and recognize, in solid formation, the entire army of Washington, waiting in silence to give him a hearty soldier’s reception. The day passed; and for once, both armies were at full halt. Knyphausen, for the time, was Commander-in-Chief of both, for it devolved upon him alone to order battle. He was filling the part of Pharaoh, and not that of Moses.
One monotonous sound echoed from a summit near Morristown. It was the “minute-gun,” which had been designated by the American Commander-in-Chief as a continuous signal whenever he wanted every man within hearing, who had a gun, to come at once to his demand. Night came on, and with it, rain; but still the minute-gun boomed on, with solemn cadence, and instead of smoking hill-tops, the blaze of quickened beacons illumined the dull sky as if New Jersey were all on fire. The night covered the Hessians from view, and when morning came they attempted to regain Staten Island; but the tide retired, leaving boats stranded and the mud so deep that even cavalry could not cross in safety. Having heard on the first of June that Clinton was en route for New York, Knyphausen simply strengthened the New York defences and awaited the arrival of his superior officer.
On the tenth, Washington wrote: “Their movements are mysterious, and the design of this movement not easily penetrated.” As a matter of fact, there were few operations of the war which bore so directly upon the safety of the American army and the American cause, as the operations before Springfield during June, 1779; and the conduct of both armies indicated an appreciation of their importance.
On the thirteenth of June, Congress, without consulting Washington, appointed General Gates to the command of the Southern Department. Gates had spent the winter at his home in Virginia, but eagerly accepted this command, although he had lacked the physical vigor to engage in the Indian campaign in New York. His most intimate friend and companion, both in arms and in antagonism to Washington, Charles Lee, sent him one more letter. It was a wiser letter than earlier correspondence had been, and decidedly prophetic. It closed with something like pathetic interest: “Take care that you do not exchange your Northern laurels for Southern willows.”
At this time, it did seem as if the bitter cup would never be withdrawn from the lips of the American Commander-in-Chief; for he had neither provisions for his army, nor the means of making welcome and comfortable his expected allies and guests from over the sea.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
BATTLE OF SPRINGFIELD.—ROCHAMBEAU.—ARNOLD.—GATES.
Sir Henry Clinton returned from Charleston to New York on the seventeenth day of June, 1780. He must have contrasted his report made to the British War Office, of the “conquest of South Carolina,” with that made by General Knyphausen to himself, of the recent experience of British operations in New Jersey. But Clinton was ever a man of action, prompt and energetic. He felt deeply the long protracted embarrassment of his position, while holding such a vast and responsible command without sufficient resources for pressing exigencies. He knew, and Washington, with a soldier’s instinct, knew that Clinton knew, that there was no safety for New York, and no possibility of effective operations out from New York, so long as a strong, faithful American army held the fastnesses of New Jersey, and a vigorous espionage of the Hudson River region was maintained. The sweep of Washington’s arm was largely shaping the future destiny of America from very humble headquarters; but no less firmly and decisively.
Clinton did not remain idle, nor undecided, a single day. Troops were embarked upon transports immediately; and all suitable demonstrations were made as if an organized movement against West Point were designed. Washington placed his entire army in motion and advanced one division eleven miles, toward Pompton, on the twenty-second, en route for the Hudson, to be prepared for whatever might be the scheme of his adversary. His confidential agents in New York were always quick to report details of British movements. Washington invariably exacted “minute” details; and from these he interpreted the general plans of the enemy. In this instance, the embarking of field batteries instead of heavy guns, which could always be procured from ships, satisfied him that his own headquarters and the destruction of his army were Clinton’s real objectives.