Through the indifferent light, Lord Sterling selected the points of vantage. To the commander of the militia he said:
“Draw your men up in that orchard on the left of the road; we may manage to have them walk into an ambush.”
While this was being done, Sterling formed his own men along a ridge that ran from the road to a hilltop. Under a steady fire the British came along; but they avoided the ambush by throwing forward some light troops; and at broad day these, from behind hedges and trees, were facing the Americans at a distance of some hundred and fifty yards.
But the blow was to be dealt on the Flatbush Road. While darkness hung over all, the Hessian, De Heister, opened with his guns on Hand’s riflemen, who defended the pass under the direction of General Sullivan. Some ships of the line attempted to get into action; but heavy head winds drove them back. The “Roebuck,” a rather small vessel, managed to beat up against the wind, however, and she opened upon the fort at Red Hook.
During all this, Washington was in Manhattan; the people of the city were wild with terror, for it was still believed that the real attack would be leveled at them. But in a little time the commander-in-chief saw that this was not to be the case, so he had his barge manned and crossed to Brooklyn. And he arrived in time to see the first blows struck.
Clinton, having comfortably breakfasted, now brought forward his artillery; the guns thundered the awaited signal. At once De Heister knew that the American left had been turned; and he hurled his Hessians under Count Donop upon the Flatbush pass. Sullivan also caught the sound of Clinton’s guns; they were in his rear, and the truth struck home instantly.
“Fall back!” he cried.
As the German troops pressed forward, no one remained to resist them; down the opposite side of the hill rushed the Americans, hoping to escape being surrounded. But when they reached the plain, Sullivan saw that he was too late. Clinton’s light infantry and dragoons were upon them like cats. Back the patriots rushed into the pass, only to be greeted with a stream of lead from the mercenaries’ muskets.
“We have them!” shouted Count Donop in his hoarse German. “At them, my children!”
The Americans recoiled from the sleet of bullets, but only to fall upon the sabers of the British dragoons. Backward and forward like shuttlecocks they were driven; first the British would send them reeling toward the Hessians, then the latter would, in turn, hurl them back upon the British. But not for a moment did the patriots cease fighting; their rifles belched in the faces of the foe, their bayonets ran red with blood. The pass roared with conflict; mercy was not asked nor given; above the barking of muskets, horses neighed and trumpets shrilled their high-voiced commands.