A Turn in the Tide by Chas. Morris

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Feb 11, 1897

A Turn in the Tide

By Chas. Morris

**CHAPTERS IN THE UNITED STATES HISTORY. NO. 12.**

BY PROF. CHAS. MORRIS.

A Turn in the Tide.

Change of Feeling between July and December, 1776—Depression in America, Elation in England—Positions and Strength of the Armies—Washington’s Plan—Failure to Combine—The Delaware Crossed—March on Trenton—Surprise and Defeat of the Hessians—March of Cornwallis—Washington’s Countermarch—Victory at Princeton—The Result of the Campaign—Its Influence in America and Europe.

On the Fourth of July, 1776, the day on which the Declaration of Independence was signed, the daring signers had excellent reason for the boldness of their act. The outlook of events was at that time promising for the revolted colonies. On that day it is probable there was not a British soldier on American soil, not a British ship of war in an American port. Washington, by seizing an eminence that commanded the harbor of Boston, had forced the British fleet to carry the British army in haste from that beleaguered town. An attempt had afterward been made to take Charleston, but it had been repulsed by the gallant defenders of Fort Sullivan, and since then the dogs of war had slept. The British fleet hovered off New York, ready to land troops on Staten Island, a process which began just about the time the Declaration was being signed.

But the dogs of war were soon to awaken again. Had the Declaration been proposed in December of that year, five months afterwards, there would probably have been a very different tale to tell, and it may be that not enough signatures would have been obtained to carry the act of revolution. For despondency had taken the place of hope; the American cause had sunk to its lowest ebb, and it looked as if the revolt was near its end, and George III. was about to come to what he considered his own again.

The British army had landed at Long Island, defeated and forced Washington to retreat, taken possession of Forts Lee and Washington, and driven the Continental army, almost in despair, across New Jersey. Only the celerity of Washington’s movements saved him. Marching rapidly, breaking down bridges behind him, he managed to keep beyond reach

of his foe. The 2d of December saw him at Princeton, with about 3,000 ragged and hopeless soldiers. Soon after he placed the Delaware between himself and his pursuers, and brought the pursuit to an end by seizing all the boats on that stream.

General Howe had the best of reasons to imagine that the resistance of the Colonies was near its end. He had under him 25,000 well-trained soldiers, whom he had posted in strong detachments at various places in New Jersey, while he returned to spend the winter in New York. The American army, on the contrary, seemed on the point of dissolution. No reenforcements were joining it. The people were in a state of depression that robbed them of patriotism and hope. Of those now in the ranks, many would leave for their homes on the termination of their term of service at the end of the year. Congress, which in July had declared independence of Great Britain, in December was a fugitive body, having hastened from the perilous vicinity of the British forces.

It is not surprising that the feeling in America was reflected in Europe, and that there was a general expectation that the American rebellion was near its collapse. The despatches of General Howe had given that impression in England, and the feeling of joyful expectation excited there, influenced the opinion of the Continental nations, and spread widely the conviction that the fetters broken by America were soon to be riveted upon her free limbs again.

Perhaps there were many Americans who did not share this conviction. Certainly there was one. In the darkest hour Washington did not despair. He appealed earnestly for troops. He implored Congress to take decided action. He worked indefatigably to make the best of a bad situation. Yet, despite all he could do, the gloom deepened, the condition of affairs grew more desperate, and it seemed evident that unless there should be a turn in the tide all was lost.

It needed the genius of a Washington to bring about this turn in the tide. Something must be done, and at once. Some blow must be struck, and that before the new year entered, lest that should weaken his force hopelessly.

In this strait he laid his plans. He must attack the foe and successfully. His only hope was, by courage, skill, and activity, to snatch victory out of the jaws of defeat. The British troops lay here and there in detachments, spending the winter in comfortable ease, of which the ragged Continentals were badly in need, and dreaming of nothing less than of disturbance from the fugitive foe. It was this state of affairs that inspired Washington. To the careless self-assurance of the enemy he trusted for success.

The odds against him were great. There were under his command some 6,000 men in all, the remnant of the enthusiastic host which had assailed Boston the year before. Even these were scattered at various points along the stream, from Philadelphia northward. Yet by falling upon the British detachments, and attacking them suddenly and unexpectedly, he might win victory even with this small force. Quiet, then, he laid his plans, and courageously he prepared to carry them into execution.

At Trenton lay a detachment of Hessians, hireling foreigners who were particularly hated by the Americans. Here Washington determined to strike his first blow, and that on Christmas day, when they would be least expecting, and probably in poorest condition, to receive a foe. His plans were carefully worked out. Unhappily only one of them was properly carried into effect. Each division of the scattered army had its part to play in the drama. Gates was to march from Bristol with the 2,000 men under his command. Ewing was to cross the Delaware at Trenton. Putnam was to come up from Philadelphia. Griffin was to make a diversion against Donop.

As it turned out, not one of them did his part. Gates, who did not like the plan, was on his way with complaints to Congress; Ewing made no effort to cross; Putnam remained in Philadelphia; Griffin made haste to escape from the vicinity of Donop; Cadwallader, who was at Bristol, took a look at the floating ice in the river, and concluded that a crossing was too desperate to undertake. Washington, with the main body of the army, was left without the support which he had so reasonably counted upon.

Yet it was do or die. He let nothing check him in his design, neither the river, the ice, the weakness of his force, or the strength of the foe. On Christmas eve his march began. It was an evening of festivity and hilarity with the British foe, ensconced in their comfortable quarters. It was one of hardship and suffering to the Americans, marching through the biting chill.

The place of crossing—now the village of Washington’s Crossing—was about nine miles above Trenton. The river was filled with floating ice, the night bleak, the surroundings inhospitable, yet the 2,400 men, which formed the army of invasion, were carried successfully across. The sturdy fishermen of Marblehead in Glover’s regiment rowed the boats. Washington, if we may accept as fact the historic painting, stood erect in the prow of the foremost boat, facing the bitter wind, and his face cut by the sleet and snow of that inclement night, as he looked ahead with eyes hopeful of victory.

The men safely landed, the march down the river began. Those nine miles of onward trudging were severe ones. The men were but half clad and shod. Steadily fell the cutting sleet upon their exposed faces. Sullivan, whose route lay beside the river, sent a messenger to Washington with the complaint that the arms of his soldiers were wet.

“Then tell your general to use the bayonet,” was the commander’s stern reply. “The town must be taken.”

The crossing, the march, had consumed much valuable time. Day dawned while Trenton was still at a distance. Yet the Hessians, heavy from their Christmas eve revels, and resting at ease in their comfortable quarters, were taken utterly by surprise, and driven almost unresistingly before the onrushing foe.

Washington, in command of the right, swept down the Pennington road, and drove the Hessian pickets into the streets of the town. As he did so he heard from the left the shout of Sullivan’s men, led by Stark in the van, and charging in at bayonet’s point as ordered by their chief.

In a moment, almost, the affair was at an end. There was some fighting in the streets, but so sudden and well managed had been the attack, that resistance was soon at an end. A company of jaegers and light dragoons slipped in panic haste away. The bulk of the force was surrounded and taken prisoner. Colonel Rahl, the British officer in command, roused suddenly from his revels, rushed wildly out to rally his men, and fell dead, slain by a Continental bullet. In almost less time than it takes to tell it, the affair was at an end, and a thousand prisoners had fallen into Washington’s hands. Thus had an important detachment of the enemy been cut off and destroyed, and the British roused out of their complacent self-satisfaction as by a lightning stroke.

(Concluded next week.)