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THE CAMP-FIRE AT MORRISTOWN
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The situation of the encampment at Morristown was well chosen. The surrounding country afforded natural barriers
to the approach of an enemy, and being very fertile, furnished ample supplies in the matter of provisions.
The portion of the American army encamped at this place, was the Pennsylvania line,
under the command of General Wayne. The troops entered into winter quarters at this place,
encamping in rude huts, in the later part of November.
Although the neighboring country produced an abundance of supplies of every kind, the troops were very ill provided for. They nearly all had some portion of their pay in arrears; and whatever was paid was in a depreciated currency. Their clothing was of the scantiest character, and their protection from the severity of the weather was slight. These circumstances operated so strongly, some time afterwards, as to produce a very serious mutiny; and, at the time to which we are about to refer, they were the cause of a great deal of discontent. The night was very dark. Scarcely an object could be distinguished, though within a foot of a person. The keen breath of December pierced through the many openings in the huts of the encampment at Morristown, and kept their occupants huddled as close as possible to their well-heaped fires. Occasionally, the door of one of the huts would open, as some of the occupants went to take their turn as sentinels in the advanced guard-houses; and then the light of their pine torches would glare redly and finally on the dark scene around, making the blackness of the sky more visible, and increasing sensibly the dreary and uncomfortable appearance of everything. Then, as the men proceeded to their posts, all would subside again into the darkness and silence. Let us enter one of these huts, and see how the men are whiling away the dreary time. The one nearest to the outpost of the sentinels will serve us. There are ten men sitting around the fire, which is built in the middle of the hut, on the ground --- that forming a great part of the floor of the structure. What boards there were in the hut, were used for sitting and sleeping on. A large number of the Pennsylvania line were natives of Ireland; and it needed but a single glance at the faces of the ten men gathered around that fire, to give assurance that the majority of them were from the "gim of the ocean." The features could not be mistaken. The broad face; the short, end-up nose; the light and red hair; blue eyes and ruddy cheeks; labeled them "from Ireland." Only three out of the ten could be distinguished, by their long faces and lantern-jaws, as natives of the land for which they were fighting. The clothing of the group was without uniformity, and might be termed ragged. "Now, Barney," said one of these sons of Erin, "ye spalpeen, ye know ye can sing. I niver knew an Irishman that couldn't do that same." "I know I can, mon. Bad luck to me if I didn't. but, I tell yez, I've got a cowld, and that stops my throat up." "Come Barney," said one of the Pennsylvanians, "don't take so much coaxin'. An Irishman ought to have impudence enough to attempt anything, whether he can do it or not." "Go on, go on, mon," added another of the Hibernians; "it'll kape the blood stirrin', perhaps." "Och, what'll I sing for yez, ye blatherin' divils?" said Barney. "I don't know inythin' but the rale Irish songs." "That's what I want to hear," replied one of the Pennsylvanians. "I can sing some of our songs myself. Give me something Irish." "Yes, yes; something Irish," struck in two or three of the Hibernians. "Well, I'll sing you a song that I know'll warm some of your hearts, whither your outside's cowld or not. It's called 'The Irish Emigrant,'" and Barney sang in the sweet tenor voice so commonly found among the Irish people, the song that follows. Farewell to my country, a lasting farewell!The song was sung in a very feeling manner, and as Barney drew near the close of it, the faces of the Irishmen might be seen to wear a sadder expression, and as it was finished, in a low, sweet tone, Barney put his ragged sleeve up to his eye, as if to brush away a tear. No doubt, the song called to mind memories of the land they had left --- of a mother, or sister; or, dearer ones still, a wife and children, that poverty had compelled them to leave behind, when they sought a happier shore. "That song took away all the cowld feelin' I had," observed one of the men, named Larry. "Och," said Barney, "I couldn't sing it again, if I was to be kilt for it." "It's a very pretty song," said one of the Pennsylvanians, upon whom the song had not operated so powerfully, "but I'll be switched if it took away the 'cowld feelin,' as you call it, from me. My back is freezing, while my front is warm." "I won't stand such livin' as this much longer, I tell you now. I don't believe that we've bound to stay here any longer, anyhow," said another of the Americans. "You're not bound to stay, in my opinion, Ben; but you ought to stay, you know," replied the third Pennsylvanian. "I suffer all hardships, the same as you do, but I don't complain so much. I think the government ought to pay us better, and provide better quarters for us; but because they don't I'm not going to turn deserter, or Arnold either." "And who would turn Arnold?" asked the complaining one, indignantly. "Must a man turn traitor, because he won't put up with getting such pay and livin' as we do, after fightin' the battles of his country for three years?" "Is ut an Arnold ye talk about turnin'?" put in one of the Irishmen; "bad luck to the man that turns traither."{ "Well, men," said the Pennsylvanian who had replied to Ben's complaint, and whose name was Matthew, "have you hear the particulars of that foul treachery of Arnold's? If you haven't, I can tell you all about it. "I've heard enough of it to convince me that Arnold had acted as basely as a traitor could act," replied Ben. "Well, I know nothin' about it, more'n I've heard from the men," said Barney. "Tell us all about it, Mat, and if Ben don't want to hear it, let him sit quietly." "Yis, yis," added another of the Irishmen, "go on wid the story, and let Ben go to the divil." The call being pretty generally joined in by the men, Matthew, who was anxious to lay bare to his comrades the full baseness of the conduct of Arnold, commenced his narrative. "You see, men, I've been very inquisitive in this matter. I generally try to get a full understanding of an affair, in all its particulars, before I give my opinion. In the first place, the way I first became acquainted with the matter was through one of the militia men that stopped Major Andre. You know it was while the main army was encamped at Orangetown, or Tappan, as it is sometimes called, that we first heard of the treason, by the adjutant of the regiment reading the paper issued by General Greene. From that time, I made inquiries, and learned who the militia-men were that had overhauled Andre. One of them, I knew; his name was Williams. From him, I learned all the particulars of the capture of Andre, and the rest I picked up from the conversation of the captain and sergeant of our company." "Never mind the authority; go on with the story. I'm satisfied of its truth, if you tell it," said Ben. "Well, I thought I'd let you know where I built my story," answered Matthew. "The post that was to be sacrificed by the treachery of Arnold, was West Point, on the Hudson River, about sixty miles above New York. Its position is such, that General Washington considers it the most important post in the United States. It is indeed a strong post. Have any of you ever seen it?" None of the party had got that far north. Two regiments of the Pennsylvania line had been dispatched to West Point, soon after the discovery of Arnold's treachery; but the one they were enlisted in was not with them. Accordingly, they all expressed their ignorance of its character. "Well," continued Matthew," it is a very strongly fortified place. In fact, it is called the Gibraltar of America. It is situated at a bend of the river, where the rocks rise in ridges, one above another. The summit is very high, and is covered with a range of redoubts and batteries, planned by the most skilful engineers. The highest and strongest fort is built on a natural platform of rocks, very steep, and almost inaccessible on every side. This is called 'Fort Putnam,' after old General Putnam, who planned it. [Transcriber's note: Actually, it was named for Col. Rufus Putnam, whose Massachusetts 5th Regiment built it.] It overlooks the whole plains below, and, they say, you can see thirty miles around from it. "Then, to make the place still stronger, a very heavy chain is thrown across the river, at the short bend, and fixed to large blocks on each shore. The links of the chain are actually about a foot wide and a foot and a half long. It is buoyed up by large logs, pointed at each end, to make less opposition to the current of the river. This chain is commanded by the fire of batteries on each side of the river. "You may judge, from this short description, of the strength of the position. They calculate that it could bid defiance to twenty thousand men, if it was properly garrisoned. And then, when you consider that it commands the whole country from New York to Canada, and keeps open the communication between the eastern and southern States, you can judge of the amount of damage Arnold's surrender of it would have done to the cause we were fighting for. "Well, in the early part of last August, Arnold obtained the command of West Point, after considerable solicitation. The fact of his asking the command of that post, when there was a prospect of an attack being made on New York, by Washington, seemed to the commander-in-chief very strange. He had intended that Arnold should command the left wing of the army, as that was the post of honor; but Arnold said that his wounded leg prevented him from keeping on horseback for any length of time, and, in fact, unfitted him for active service. He obtained his request, as I said before, and went immediately to the Highlands, and established his head-quarters at Robinson's house, two or three miles below West Point, on the east side of the river. West Point is, of course, on the west side. I might as well tell you here, that Arnold was in correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton, through Major Andre, all the time he was asking for the command of West Point, and for about a year previous." "For a year previous to his treachery in regard to West Point?" asked Ben. "Yes, that's certain," was the reply. "How much longer it had been going on, we don't know. General Arnold took command of West Point, and then he thought it was a proper time to bring matters to an end. So he wrote to Clinton, and offered to surrender the post he commanded into his hands, with all the troops and stores in it; but requested him to send an officer, or some other person, who had his particular confidence, to meet him, that is Arnold, at some convenient time and place. This, the British commander agreed to do, and Major Andre, the adjutant-general of the British, was selected for that service. It appears that Arnold wanted to make quite certain of the reward he was to receive for his treachery, before he advanced too far. You know, I suppose, that about this time a detachment of cavalry was stationed at the outposts, on the west side of the Hudson river. A part of the detachment, under colonel Sheldon was at Salem. The rest, under Lieutenant-colonel Jameson and Major Tallmadge, was at North-Castle. Well, Arnold gave notice to Sheldon, that he expected a person from New York, whom he wanted to meet at Sheldon's quarters; and he hoped, through the agency of that person, to open a chance for producing intelligence. In other words --- for I don't suppose some of you Irishmen understand me --- he wanted Sheldon to believe that the person he was going to meet would be a valuable spy." "A spy is it ye mane?" enquired Barney, "Yis, I understand ye." "Well," continued Matthew, "he requested Colonel Sheldon, if such a person should arrive, to show him proper attention, and send information of the same to head-quarters. A letter was sent to Andre, telling him of this arrangement, and that if he could contrive to make his way to the American outposts above White Plains, he would be under the protection of Colonel Sheldon afterwards, and would meet with no obstacles. From some unknown cause, Major Andre did not choose to pursue this course, but sent a letter to Colonel Sheldon, signed 'John Anderson,' stating that he would meet Mr. Gustavus at Dobb's Ferry, on the next Monday, (which, if I recollect right, was the 11th of September,) at twelve o'clock. "Now, the letter seemed a sort of enigma to Colonel Sheldon, as he afterwards said; but he sent it to Arnold, requesting him to either go himself to Dobb's Ferry, or send a trustworthy messenger. Arnold sent a reply to Sheldon, explaining, as he said, all the mystery of the of the letter from Andre. He said that Gustavus was a name he had assumed, to prevent discovery, if the letter should fall into the enemy's hands; and further, that he would himself go to Dobb's Ferry. He contrived these circumstances to blind those who might become acquainted with the transactions, by giving it the color of a sort of public business. "Well, Arnold left his head-quarters on the afternoon of the 10th, went down the river in his barge, to King's Ferry, and passed the night at the house of a man by the name of Smith, --- Jushua Smith, --- about two miles and a half below King's Ferry, near the Haverstraw road. The next morning, early, he proceeded to Dobb's Ferry. You know that's not very far from Tappan, where we were encamped. Major Andre had been on the spot before Arnold arrived; he was accompanied by a British colonel. "But there's one thing I came near forgetting. When Arnold was nearing Dobb's Ferry, he was fired upon by the British gun-boats, and so closely pursued that his life was in danger; and once he came near being taken prisoner. He landed safely, however, and proceeded to the Ferry, where he remained till night; but Andre and his companion had left, and in this way an interview was prevented for the time, at least. Arnold wrote a letter to Washington, while at the Ferry, to give some show of reason for his passage down the river. This was necessary, to prevent suspicion. He had come down the river in a very public manner, and it couldn't fail to be known. He said he had come down the river to have a beacon fixed on a hill about five miles below King's Ferry, which would be useful to alarm the country; and to establish signals, to be observed in case the enemy ascended the river. These reasons were satisfactory, as they seemed proofs of his vigilance. "Put on a little more of that wood, will you, Barney? The fire's getting down, and I'm getting colder." The request was complied with, and all seemed to feel the additional comfort. Matthew continued his narrative. |
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