Free The Glorious Cause by Jeff Shaara Page A

north?”
    Glover was all seriousness now, said, “General Washington, in my opinion, sir, we are able to stand safely here and have this little soirée for one reason only. The mouth of this river opens to the south. We have been blessed with a gale from the north that has prevented the British from entering the river. Forgive me, General Putnam, but I believe it is that wind, and that wind only, that has kept the British navy from sending a fleet right up our backsides. Sir.”
    The rain was slackening, and Washington could see a glimpse of the sunset, breaking through the clouds in the west.
    “Gentlemen, if any of those warships make their way upriver . . .” He paused, saw the faces all watching him. There were no arguments, and his mind had formed the plan, the only opportunity his army might have to fight another day.
    “Colonel Glover, can your boats be made ready in short order?”
    “Certainly, sir.”
    “Then make ready. We are withdrawing from this position.”
    He left a small force along the ramparts, guarding against a sudden move by the British. All through the night, Glover’s Marblehead Regiment ferried the troops away and across the river, to the safety of Manhattan. Most of his army never knew his orders, had been told that they were being replaced by fresh troops, the only way Washington knew of preventing a panic, a mad noisy scramble to the boats. As the men marched to the water’s edge, they were warned against sound, no mistake that might give the British some hint of what was happening. It was not perfect, and Washington could not keep the operation immune to human error. One section of the works was left completely unguarded for over an hour while the men marched away in the wrong order. But the error was corrected, and through the long night, few sounds came from the British camps. By midnight, the clouds had cleared away, and the wind was nearly calm, no longer a barrier to Lord Howe’s navy. But the British ships would not move at night, would still have to negotiate the obstructions in the river, and so Glover’s troop-laden boats crossed and recrossed the river unmolested.
    Washington stayed on his horse, kept close to the shoreline, silently watching his men file out of the works. Most of the men never saw him, and if they did, it was only in silhouette, the big man on the great horse caught in the sudden flood of moonlight. To the army, the reflection on the river was a blessing, an aide to Glover’s sailors, making easy navigation of the crossing to Manhattan, but to Washington, the full moon meant visibility to the British lookouts, and the constant danger that their move would be discovered.
    Just before dawn, his fears were realized, a British patrol slipping forward, reaching the edge of the river without causing the usual alarm, their sergeant staring in wide-eyed amazement at the surge of activity in the river. The alarm went out, and Howe scrambled to bring his men to the scene, but then, as if on command, a thick bank of fog drifted over the river, covering the withdrawal. The British still came forward, made their way into the works of Brooklyn Heights without firing a shot, and some advanced all the way to the river’s edge, caught a last glimpse of the big man stepping off, the rebel commander the last man to board the last boat. Washington’s army had escaped.

 
    4. CORNWALLIS
    B ROOKLYN H EIGHTS , A UGUST 30, 1776
    He was weary of the reports, manic bursts of words from the men who had first reached the river. He had finally ridden up himself, moving first through the farms, surprised by the destruction of the houses, shattered glass, broken doors, contents spread across the muddy roads. He understood now, the rumors floating through headquarters were accurate, reports of savage brutality by the Hessians. He didn’t want to hear of it, but what he saw around him made it obvious. If there was no enemy in range, de Heister’s men turned the frightening efficiency