On July 8, the king's troops began boarding the ships for a long voyage; “three weeks we were told to lay in for,” according to one officer.34 Lord Cantelupe of the Guards wrote, “In the Morning March'd to Coles Ferry, & embark'd on board the transports laying in the Bay near the Narrows.”35 Cole's Ferry, the main ferry between Staten Island and New York City, was located on the eastern shore of the island just above the Narrows and was largely out of view from Sandy Hook.
The army was about 18,000 strong, but that counted only enlisted personnel; officers, servants, staff, and camp followers, including women and children, added another 5,000 or so to be transported. The fleet numbered just over 260 vessels of all types. In his journal, Capt. John André made a record of the troop numbers and to which ships they were assigned, the ship tonnages, and pennant distinctions. For the two battalions of the Guards Brigade, André noted: “Distribution of Transports: Foot Guards: 945 [men] on the following transport ships: Aolus [414 tons], Selina [350 tons], Gr[and] D[utchess] of Russia [308 tons], Amity's Admonition [410 tons]. Total 1482 tons, Distinguishing Vanes: Red & blue (Main).”36
Sir George Osborn wanted first-class accommodations for his men. Writing from the Aolus, he told his brother, “My last letter…will have informed you that I was to embark and had got one of the best and the very prettiest ships in our fleet for the Grenadiers and Light Company of the Guards.” Sir George was pleased: “The ship in every respect has answered my expectations.”37 The Aolus carried 119 grenadiers and 87 light infantrymen, with 10 officers, 8 sergeants, 2 drummers, 2 fifers, 14 servants, 13 women, and 1 child, for a grand total of 256 passengers from the 1st Guards Battalion.
Lord Cantelupe was on board Amity's Admonition with three companies—Stephen's, Murray's, and O'Hara's—from the 2nd Guards Battalion, with 241 rank and file, 11 officers, 10 sergeants, 6 drummers and fifers, 5 servants, 19 women, and 1 child, for a total of 293. In his diary, Cantelupe drew a diagram of the fleet's arrangement as it deployed for the voyage.38
The heat was back with a vengeance, and the radical variations of climate were distressing to those not used to an American summer. “I have never experienced more unpleasant changes of weather than last night,” Chaplain Johann Philipp Waldeck of the 3rd Waldeck Regiment, one of the German regiments stationed on Staten Island, complained on July 6. “Yesterday evening it was still astonishingly hot. At twelve o'clock the wind blew so cold through the tent that it was necessary to use an overcoat as a blanket. By midday it was again hot enough to cause a stroke.”39 Pvt. Johann Conrad Döhla of the Bayreuth Regiment commented, “A day in the summer in the months of June and July is not as long as at home, because the sun rises after five o'clock and sets before seven o'clock, so that by eight o'clock it is already pitch black. In the day, the great heat causes suffocation and death. On the other hand, at night it is as cold as if it were fall.” Staten Island's geography presented other variations: “Above all, the air, because of the frequent fog from the nearby ocean and the foul fumes on Staten Island, is highly unhealthy. Therefore, sicknesses such as putrid fever, diarrhea, and dysentery, often spread through our regiment, and half the men were ill.”40 On land, it was unbearable; on crowded transport ships, bobbing up and down at anchor, it was almost indescribable.
The orderly book of the British 49th Regiment contained special orders for modifying the men's uniforms to cope with the heat on the voyage and also to preserve them for land campaigning. “Regimental Orders 9th July 1777: Sir Henry Calder desires A Return may be given in of the Number of Caps wanting in each Company—The Men are not to wear their Hatts or Coats on any Account; they are to put Sleeves to their Waistcoats [vests] out of Old Stockings, or Such other Stuf they can procure.”41
But just when the fleet was going to sail or where it was headed remained anybody's guess. Capt. William Dansey of the 33rd Regiment took the time to write to his mother from “On Board the Earl of Oxford, July 10th, 1777: My dear Madam, Yesterday we embark'd but where we are going to Lord knows.”42 Howe's aide Capt. Friedrich von Münchhausen confided in his diary the same day, “It is said that General Howe will go aboard on Sunday…then we shall see where we will go, which is not known to anyone.” He remarked, “Everyone surmises that we are going to Philadelphia.”43
“Sir Billy” confided in no one except his swarthy brother “Black Dick,” the admiral, that he planned not only to go to Philadelphia, but also to take an unexpected and roundabout route: up the Chesapeake Bay rather than the Delaware River. Joseph Galloway, leader of the Pennsylvania Loyalists, learned of the general's plan quite by accident and later told the House of Commons how he figured it out. “After my return from Hillsborough to New York” during the June maneuvers, “I met on the road accidentally Lord Howe. From a conversation which passed between us, I suspected that Sir William was going with his fleet and army round to the Chesapeak.” Galloway explained to the Commons that he took it upon himself to write down the problems he foresaw—distance, heat, terrain—and showed them to Capt. John Montrésor, the chief engineer, “through whom I often communicated with the General.” According to Galloway, Montrésor read the list of concerns, agreed with them, and said “he would chearfully deliver them to the General.” Howe sent for Galloway several days later. “[He] asked me, how I knew he was going to the Chesapeak? I answered, I did not positively know it. He said, I did, from the paper in front of him. I replied, the paper was not positive, but conditional, supposing he intended to go there.”
Next, Howe put a curious question to Galloway. “He then asked, whether my objections rested on the difficulties of the navigation of the Chesapeak? I replied, they did not.”44 The general's confidence in his fifty-one-year-old brother's abilities “through a most intricate and dangerous navigation for such a multitude of vessels” was unshakable. As events played out, The Annual Register reported that “the Admiral performed the different parts of a commander, inferior officer, and pilot, with his usual ability and perseverance.”45
Along with the expedition was James Parker of Virginia, a forty-eight-year-old Scottish-born tobacco merchant from Norfolk who accompanied the army as a volunteer guide. Parker had suffered the loss of his valuable business and many properties and was imprisoned for months in Alexandria. He and several companions escaped, partially through the efforts of Nicholas Cresswell, who later said, “None of them (Goodrich excepted) have had the good manners to thank us for the risk we ran in assisting them,” and “They are a set of ungrateful scoundrels.”46 For his part, Parker was determined to make himself as useful to General Howe as possible but was in the dark about the fleet's destination. “Formerly I had a very good spy of knowing things,” he told his friend Charles Steuart in Edinburgh, “’tis not so now, every thing is Secret & misterious. I hope it is all for the best.” Regarding the military situation, Parker wrote, “We hear the Rebels in the south have been singing Te deum on the evacuation of the Jerseys, after which our Troops encamped on Statten Island. They were all embarked the 11th,” and added, “everything has the appearance of a Southern Expidition, & I am this day [July 16] ordered on board the Fanny transport to attend it,” together with Lord Howe's secretary Ambrose Serle and Capt. Archibald Robertson of the Engineers.
Having lived in southern Virginia since 1750, Parker knew the climate all too well. “I do not wish to See them in Virginia before the beginning of September,” he declared. “The Army is in high health & Spirits now, I fear that will not long be the Case—if they go South in the dog days.”47
Everyone dreaded the dog days of summer, and with good reason: They were marked by excessive heat and humidity, swarms of irritating insects, and “the agues”—fevers and sickness. Also called the canicular days, the dog days, which “begin towards the end of July, and end the beginning of September,” are “a certain number of days preceding and ensuing the helical raising of canicula, or the dog-star, in the morning,” according to the 1771 Encyclopaedia Brittanica. “The Romans supposed it to be the cause of the
sultry weather usually felt in the dog-days; and therefore sacrificed a brown dog every year at its rising, to appease its wrath.”48 Col. Karl von Donop told the crown prince of Prussia on July 14, “God knows whether we shall go south or north, but the heat which is beginning to make itself felt with the approach of the dog-days makes one wish that the general would choose the north rather than the south.”49
Gen. James Grant was also familiar with summer on the East Coast, having spent years in America during the French and Indian War and seven years afterward as governor of East Florida at St. Augustine. “Our Officers have no Idea where they are going,” he smugly informed General Harvey. “The most intelligent are wide of the mark from a mistaken Idea of climate, which is the same all over America in the Months of July & August. During that time the Heats are as great at Boston as at St. Augustine.” He confidently assured his friend, “The Secret of our Destination has been well kept—Washington must be at a Loss. He has moved to Morris [County] to have it in his power to direct his course South or North.”50
The guessing game was widespread. In Philadelphia, John Adams told James Warren, “What Mr. Howes present Plan is, no Conjurer can discover. He is moving and maneuvering with his Fleet and Army, as if he had some Design, or other, but what it may be no Astrologer can divine.” Fed up with all the second-guessing around town, Adams fumed, “Some conjecture he is bound to the West Indies, others to Europe, one Party to Hallifax, another to Rhode Island. This set sends him up the North River, that down the East River, and the other up the Delaware. I am weary of Conjectures—Time will solve them.”51 He informed Abigail, “I am much in doubt whether he knows his own Intentions,” and concluded, “It is impossible to discover the Designs of an Enemy who has no Design at all. An Intention that has no Existence, a Plan that is not laid, cannot be divined.”52
Nor was the mystery confined to North America. In Great Britain and Ireland, the lack of news from the seat of war, and Lord Germain's inability to fathom Howe's intentions, caused great concern in the government and ridicule in the press. The dearth of reliable information lasted well into the autumn, provoking much speculation and derision in the newspapers. Throughout the summer, the following advertisement appeared in several publications:
LOST, this SUMMER,
in the enclosures about New-York, in North America,
The BRITISH ARMY.
Whoever can give an account of it to his Majesty's
Secretary at War, shall not only receive a large premium,
but have the high honour of kissing his Majesty's hand.
A part of it is said to have been seen, in the Spring,
near Danbury; but its stay was so short,
that its tracks were not deep enough to be traced.53
In America, optimistic reports from the mother country further exasperated Captain Fitzpatrick. “I have just received a large packet of letters from England from Lord Rawdon who arrived the day before yesterday,” he told his brother on July 8. “Nothing can appear more ridiculous to every body here than the letters they receive from England, talking of the miserable situation of the Rebels, & of the war being certain of coming to a conclusion immediately.”54
Twenty-three-year-old Lord Rawdon was an aide-de-camp of Gen. Sir Henry Clinton. Earlier in the spring, Clinton had gone home disgusted, planning to resign, for he and Howe did not get along at all. Howe had repeatedly shuffled him off since 1775, first to Charleston, then to Rhode Island, and Sir Henry had had enough. Upon arriving in England, he was met with a knighthood and a promotion to lieutenant general for his services. He was also prevailed upon to return to America. Now, back in New York, where he had grown up while his father was royal governor (1741–51), Clinton again found himself in the familiar disagreeable situation of fruitlessly arguing with Howe, this time against a voyage to Philadelphia.
Sir William was waiting to hear from Sir John Burgoyne, who was advancing south on Lake Champlain toward Fort Ticonderoga. Once more shuffling him out of the way, Sir William planned to leave Sir Henry in command at New York City with a very small force, while the main army went off to Philadelphia. Besides the annoyance at being pigeonholed yet again, Clinton feared that sending the army south would expose New York to an attack by Washington, leave Burgoyne unsupported, and render the army vulnerable to sickness in the southern climate.
As the generals bickered and waited for news of Burgoyne, the days dragged on. Von Münchhausen wrote on July 13, “No one seems to be able to figure out why we are waiting here so long, considering the fact that everyone, except Howe and a few officers, are aboard ship. Some malcontents have given some rather unfounded and unworthy reason for the delay,” probably an allusion to Howe's dallying with Mrs. Loring.
Privately, the Hessian captain also expressed doubts about the overall quality of the British High Command. “General Leslie who commands the Highland Scots, has broken his leg,” von Münchhausen noted. “It is a pity that we have to leave behind this very able and upright general, the like of which the English have only a few.” A day later, he commented, “General Howe is in a difficult situation because he has but few capable generals under his command here.”
Five more days of waiting lay ahead, during which von Münchhausen speculated, “I wonder what kind of maneuver Washington will carry out once he is convinced that we are going to his capital, Philadelphia, which, I have no doubt, is now our objective. I fear that he will make some forced marches and attack Burgoyne who is believed not to be very strong, and, from what I hear, is eager to do battle.” He fretfully concluded, “It would have been better if we had not stayed here so long, but had gone to Philadelphia four weeks ago—these are my ideas. We could then be returning by land to support Burgoyne.”55
Washington was indeed maneuvering, trying to position himself to block Howe's move up either the Hudson or the Delaware, while keeping an eye on Burgoyne's progress on Lake Champlain. After the British evacuated New Jersey, Washington shifted most of his army northward, first to Morristown, then to Pompton Plains, then up to “the Clove,” a long, craggy valley that leads from North Jersey into the Hudson Highlands near West Point. “We are now properly an army of observation as the Movements of the Enemy will determine our Rout[e],” Col. Percy Frazer wrote his wife from “Camp at the Cloves” on July 18. “The place we are now at is about 25 miles from the North River and 35 from Morris Town, where it is likely we shall halt until We have certain Accounts of their destination.”56
At general headquarters in the Clove, Washington and his staff had to “rough it” in very tight, rustic quarters for a few nights. “Sunday, July 20…Headquarters at Galloway's, an old log house,” Col. Timothy Pickering, the adjutant general, wrote. It was a far cry from the genteel spaciousness of the elegant Ford Mansion in Morristown; now “the General lodged in a bed, and his family on the floor about him.” They ate suppawn or sappaen, a type of porridge or hasty pudding of boiled Indian cornmeal that was standard supper fare among the Dutch farmers in the Hudson Valley area. Traditionally served cold in a large common dish, with individual “milk ponds” scooped out around the edges, each diner would eat the mush and milk with a spoon while enlarging his pond until the mess was gone. “We had plenty of sepawn and milk,” Pickering commented with satisfaction, “and all were contented.”57
From Frazer's description of the Continentals at the Clove, it would appear that Washington's efforts at rebuilding the army had come to fruition. “Our Army is in very fine health and Spirits,” he told Polly. “It wou'd surprise you to see the vast number of soldiers, Horses, Waggons, Drivers, Cattle and Provision, tents, etc., that are here; yet everything goes smoothly on.”58
Over on the Hudson, by contrast, things were not going so smoothly for the Marylanders of Sullivan's Division in the “Camp at Crumb Pond below Peeks Kills.” “We have many of the Maryland troops without Blankets or Tents,” Col. John Stone of the 1st Maryland Regiment informed Gov. Thomas Johnson on July 24, “they must undoubtedly be lost.
We are promised these necessary articles immediately.” Further, he told Johnson, “We have also suffered much for shoes, and I am afraid will suffer much more for that article this fall.” Having been through the hardships of the 1776 campaign, Stone warned, “We shall also be very bare of all kinds of Cloathing by the winter and unless we are furnished, more than probable shall be in the same disagreeable situation we were last year. Much will depend upon having an army fit for the field this fall.” In the Maryland Line, composed of Smallwood's 1st Brigade and DeBorre's 2nd Brigade, Stone was mortified to admit, “We have now in the field fit for duty only about 1100 men from Maryland, so that we make but a trifling figure with respect to numbers when compared with other States.”59
The overall condition of the army had drastically improved in six months—from dire to barely adequate—with more troops and supplies arriving every week. In the command structure, on the other hand, problems were rapidly multiplying, and from many different angles.
First and foremost was the issue of seniority among the officers, especially the generals. After the disasters of 1776, a more professional organization of army leadership was required, and the new army of 1777 offered the perfect opportunity to straighten things out. To no great surprise, however, the endless challenge of choosing officers based on competence and practical experience versus seniority and politics consumed an inordinate amount of time and correspondence. It also proved to be a constant, drawn-out source of contention and annoyance for Washington, Congress, and the officer corps, resulting in much ill will and sour tempers.
“I am wearied to Death with the Wrangles between military officers, high and low,” John Adams fumed in May. “They Quarrell like Cats and Dogs. They worry one another like Mastiffs. Scrambling for Rank and Pay like Apes for Nutts.” As chairman of the War Committee in Congress, Adams had to continually deal with the stream of complaints about slights to honor and demands for justice. “I have seen it among Boys and Girls at school, among Lads at Colledge,” he scribbled furiously, telling Abigail of the jealousies, “among Practicers at the Bar, among Clergy in their Associations, among Clubbs of Friends, among the People in their Town Meetings,” and in representative houses, councils, judges on the bench, and “that awfully August Body the Congress, and on many of its Committees—and among Ladies everywhere. But I never saw it operate with such Keenness, Ferocity and Fury, as among military Officers. They will go terrible Lengths,” Adams noted with disgust, “in their Emulations, their Envy and Revenge, in Consequence of it.”60
The Philadelphia Campaign Page 10
