The day was lost at the left and centre, and it only remains to return to Stirling on the right. This general stood his ground firmly, though the firing in his rear grew ominously distinct. He refused to retreat, says Scott, for want of orders. If Sullivan sent him orders, as we have assumed on one writer's authority that he did, they failed to reach him. The time had come for the general to act on his own judgment, and finding his salvation dependent on an immediate retreat, he fell back from Grant's front between eleven and twelve o'clock, but only to discover that he too was surrounded. The force which had anticipated him was Cornwallis with the Seventy-first Regiment and the Second Grenadiers, and they were holding his line of retreat on the Gowanus Road. Stirling, realizing his danger, at once determined upon the only manœuvre that promised escape for any of his command. Upon his left lay the Gowanus marsh and creek, where both were at their broadest, and where a crossing had never been attempted. But now the attempt must be made, or every man is lost. Upon the other side of the creek are the Brooklyn peninsula, the lines, and safety. Stirling therefore ordered his men to make their way across as they could, while, to protect them as they forded or swam, he himself took Gist and half the Maryland battalion and proceeded to attack Cornwallis. Against all the misfortunes of the day this piece of resolution and true soldiership stands out in noble relief. The Marylanders followed their general without flinching, and were soon "warmly engaged" with the enemy, who had posted themselves at a house—the old "Cortelyou" house—above the upper mills near the intersection of the Port and Gowanus roads. They rallied to the attack several times, as Stirling reports, and seemed on the point of dislodging Cornwallis, when reinforcements came up, and the British drove back the Marylanders into a piece of woods. Here, with conspicuous courage and determination, they formed again for still another effort to break through. Stirling's example was inspiring. "He encouraged and animated our young soldiers," writes Gist, "with almost invincible resolution." But his handful of brave men had done all that was possible, and in their last charge they were met by great numbers and forced to retire again, "with much precipitation and confusion."[153] They broke up into small parties and sought escape. Nine only, among whom was Major Gist, succeeded in crossing the creek, the rest having retreated into the woods.[154] Stirling endeavored to get into the lines between the British and Fort Box, or by way of the mill-dam, but finding this impossible, he turned, ran through their fire, and eluding pursuit around a hill, made his way to the Hessian corps and surrendered himself to General De Heister. He had sacrificed himself and party as prisoners, but his main object was accomplished. The rest of the command was saved! They crossed the marsh and creek with a loss of but two or three killed and six or eight drowned.
It was during this scene in the incidents of the day that Washington and his staff came upon the ground. They had remained at New York watching the fleet, when, finding that no danger was to be apprehended from that quarter, they crossed to Long Island. From the top of one of the hills within the lines, possibly Cobble Hill, the Chief witnessed Stirling's retreat and fight, and is said there to have been profoundly moved as he saw how many brave men he must inevitably lose. Colonel Smallwood, of the Marylanders, who had rejoined his regiment, petitioned for a force to march out and assist Stirling, but the general declined on account of the risks involved. Douglas's Connecticut levies, just coming up from the ferry,[155] were sent to the extreme right opposite the mouth of Gowanus Creek, where, with Captain Thomas' Maryland Independent Company and two pieces of artillery, they stood ready to prevent pursuit of the retreating party by the enemy.
Last of all, where were Parsons and Atlee? Had they been holding that hill in Greenwood all the morning, with a tenacity worthy of veterans, only to be swallowed up in the defeat and confusion of the day? Such was to be their fate. For some unexplained reason, when Stirling fell back, he failed to inform Parsons of his move. Both Parsons and Atlee state that no word reached them to join the general, and that it was greatly to their surprise when they found the line, whose flank they had been protecting, no longer there. Whatever the mistake, there was no time to lose, for the enemy were now pressing on this little force, and it must retreat as Stirling had done. But it soon found itself more effectually hemmed in than any party in the field. Cornwallis, after driving the Marylanders back, had complete command of the road, and as Parsons and Atlee came along they found it impossible even to reach the marsh. Some escaped, but the greater part turned into the woods and were all taken. Atlee, with twenty-three men, avoided capture until five o'clock in the afternoon; while Parsons, more fortunate, hid in a swamp, having escaped from the action and pursuit "as by a miracle," and with seven men made his way into our lines at daylight next morning.[156]
The battle was over. It had continued at intervals, at one point or another, over a range of five miles, from three o'clock in the morning until nearly two in the afternoon. Less than five thousand Americans at the passes, including Stirling's command and all others who had marched out during the morning, had been swept up or swept back by nearly twenty thousand British and Hessians. For our troops it was a total defeat. They had been forced to abandon the outer line of defence—the very line Washington wished should be held "at all hazards"—and had been driven into the fortified camp on the Brooklyn peninsula. This result would have inevitably come, sooner or later, but no one could have entertained the possibility of its coming in this sudden and disastrous shape.
Looking back over the day's work, the cause of the defeat is apparent at once: We had been completely outflanked and surprised on the Jamaica Road. Where the responsibility for the surprise should rest is another question. Evidently, if that patrol of officers had not been captured, but, upon discovering the approach of the enemy, had carried the word directly to Miles' camp and to headquarters, the enemy would not have gained the rear of our outposts without warning. Miles and Wyllys could have interposed themselves across their path, and held the ground long enough at least to put our troops at the other points on their guard. The surprise of this patrol, therefore, can alone explain the defeat. But as the officers appear to have been sent out as an additional precaution, the responsibility must be shared by Miles and his regiment, who were the permanent guard on the left. Brodhead, who wrote eight days after the event, distinctly asserts that there were no troops beyond them, and that, for want of videttes, that flank was left for them to watch. Parsons, as officer of the day, reports that Miles was expected to patrol across the Jamaica Road. But to charge the colonel personally with a fatal mistake or neglect is not warranted by the facts. His own patrols and pickets may have failed him. The simple fact appears that this regiment was put upon our left, that our left was turned, and the battle lost in consequence. As to the generalship of the day, if the responsibility falls on any one, it falls first on Sullivan, who sent out the mounted patrol in the first instance, and to whom it belonged to follow up the precautions in that direction. Putnam was in chief command, but nothing can be inferred from contemporary records to fasten neglect or blunder upon him any more than upon Washington, who, when he left the Brooklyn lines on the evening of the 26th, must have known precisely what disposition had been made for the night at the hills and passes. And upon Washington certainly the responsibility cannot rest.[157]
What has been said of other defeats may be said with equal truth of this one: if it was a disaster, it was not a disgrace. Even the surprise upon the left discloses no criminal misconduct. In the actual fighting of the day our soldiers stood their ground. Necessarily we suffered heavily in prisoners, but otherwise our loss was inconsiderable. All the light that we have to-day goes to establish the very important fact, originally credited and reported by Washington himself, but which hardly a single historical writer has since ventured to repeat, that at the battle of Long Island the British and Hessians suffered a loss in killed and wounded equal to that inflicted upon the Americans.[158] Howe reported his total casualties at three hundred and sixty-seven officers and soldiers. On the side of the Americans the total loss did not exceed one thousand. About eight hundred, including ninety-one officers, were taken prisoners; not more than six officers and about fifty privates were killed; and less than sixteen officers and one hundred and fifty privates wounded. No frightful slaughter of our troops, as sometimes pictured, occurred during the action. It was a field where the American soldier, in every fair encounter, proved himself worthy of the cause he was fighting for.