“It happens that I do. It’s coming in at this hour, but should still be low enough to pass.”
At once Sterling’s orders were given; part of his force was left to face Grant; the remainder marched at a double quick for the creek. They had sighted it when a cry from Ezra drew the attention of his superiors. His finger was pointing to a growth of bush between them and the coveted stream. Above this could be seen the head-pieces of the British grenadiers and the cold gleam of their bayonets.
Only one commander in a thousand would have thought of resistance now. But Sterling was that one man. Calmly he gave his orders. With a part of one battalion of Maryland men, he boldly threw himself upon the grenadiers; and while he so engaged them the rest of the command crossed the creek.
With these latter were George Prentiss and the party of scouts; it would have pleased them more to have stayed; but their orders were imperative; a swamp stretched from the creek almost to the American lines, and some one must guide the Delaware men, or they would be caught like rats.
No more desperate fighters than the five companies which Sterling retained were in the American army; they flew at the stalwart grenadiers like game-cocks; repeatedly they were broken, but each time they rallied and renewed the fight. Once, indeed, they crushed the solid formation of Cornwallis, and started the grenadiers on the run; but as fate would have it, bodies of British reinforcements came up, and the brave fellows were forced to retreat. Even then, Sterling, with a part of what was left, held his ground long enough to permit another detachment of his force to cross the creek to safety.
Broken and desperate, they made their last stand in a clump of trees. Washington, who was watching the fight through his glass from a high hill within the American lines, grew sick at heart as he witnessed the gallantry of this little band and saw the fate that must overtake them.
“Alas!” he exclaimed to some of his staff who stood near. “What brave fellows I must lose this day.”
And lose them he did. They were borne down and bayoneted in a corn-field, or shot as they endeavored to escape across a marsh. To the very last, Lord Sterling encouraged them by presence and word and deed; and when all was lost he gave up his sword to the Hessian general De Heister.
Then came the moments that meant much to the colonies; mad with victory, the British massed before the American redoubts; within musket shot they poised for the charge that would end the fight. Washington prepared for a desperate defense of Brooklyn; his cannon played upon the massed columns fiercely, and seeing that he was resolved to hold his position at all hazards, Clinton gave orders that his eager troops be held in check. To storm the American works would have been the quicker and more spectacular way; but hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives must pay for it; and this crafty tactician was not given to wasting his force. So he drew off his men and they encamped out of musket shot for the night.
But it was no night of rest for George Prentiss and his fellow riders. Through the darkness they tore, never heeding life nor limb; the length and breadth of Manhattan was crossed, and the dispatches they bore set troops in motion all over the island.