Galled perhaps by the fire of Carpenter's battery, the British light troops retired to their main line, and thefiring from this time was continued chiefly by the artillery. On their left they advanced one howitzer to within three hundred yards of Stirling's right, and in front of his left they opened with another piece at a distance of six hundred yards, and until about eleven o'clock the cannonading was vigorously sustained. Here was an engagement begun, and for four hours Stirling's men were encouraged with the belief that they were holding back the invaders. Their general inspired them with his own resolution and bravery, both by word and example; and their good conduct in this their first experience under fire, exposed without cover to cannon and musket shot, indicated that Grant could not have pushed them back without suffering severely. The casualties had not been large, but the nerves of the men were none the less tested by the ordeal. Among the Marylanders, Captain Edward Veazey, who commanded one of the independent companies, doing duty with Smallwood's regiment, fell "early in the engagement;" and either here, or on the retreat at a later hour, also fell Captain Carpenter, whose battery had been doing good work on Stirling's line. Of the Delawares, Major MacDonough and Lieutenants Anderson and Course were slightly wounded. Accounts agree that few of the men in either Smallwood's, Haslet's, or Kachlein's battalions were killed or wounded while holding this position.
The three regiments immediately under Stirling thus not only appeared to be doing well, but had actually proved themselves the best of soldiers, both by keeping an unwavering line when the British light troops advanced, as if to be followed by the main column, and in maintaining their ranks and discipline when subjected to the subsequent fire of the artillery.
Nor were these the only men who did themselves credit. That little party composed of Atlee's and Huntington's battalions, under General Parsons, which had gone into the woods to protect Stirling's left, must not be forgotten. Our published accounts heretofore fail to particularize the service it did; but it was of no small account, as Parson's and Atlee's independent testimony and the returns of the British losses clearly show. The party, not much over three hundred strong, filed off to the left, and soon came in sight of "a hill of clear ground" about three hundred yards distant, which was judged to be the proper situation from which to watch the enemy.[143]The direction Parsons' men took, the distances mentioned, and the fact that tradition associates the site with part of the fighting on that day, can leave no doubt but that the hill referred to here was one of the two or three distinct elevations in the north-western section of Greenwood Cemetery, and to one of which has since been given the commemorative title of "Battle Hill." A spot fitly named, for around it some brave work was done! As the detachment neared the hill, the British flanking troops were also observed to be marching to seize it. Atlee seeing this hurried his men to reach it first, but the enemy were there before him and poured a volley into his battalion. Fortunately, not being well aimed, this did trifling damage, but under the shock a part of his men, with two companies from the Delaware regiment, which had been ordered to join them, wavered. Rallying the most of them, Atlee soon ordered an advance up the hill, telling the men at the same time "to preserve their fire and aim aright;" and they all pushed forward with so muchresolution, and apparently with such an effective discharge of their pieces, that the enemy fell back, leaving behind them twelve killed and a lieutenant and four privates wounded. In this encounter Atlee lost his "worthy friend" and lieutenant-colonel, Caleb Parry, who fell dead upon the field without a groan, while cheering on the battalion. Ordering four soldiers to take the remains of "the hero" back into the Brooklyn lines, Atlee halted his "brave fellows" on the hill, and all Parsons' command here took post to await the further movements of the British on this flank. The force they had met and repulsed consisted of the Twenty-third and Forty-fourth and a part of the Seventeenth regiments, by whom they were soon to be attacked again. In half an hour after the first affair the enemy formed for another effort to seize the hill, but again Atlee's and Huntington's men opened upon them, and for a second time compelled their retreat, with the loss of Lieutenant-Colonel Grant, a brave and valued field-officer of the Fortieth Regiment, whose fall gave ground for the report, credited for some days after in the American army, that Major-General Grant, the division commander, was among the enemy's killed in the battle of Long Island. Parsons' men by this time had fired away all their ammunition (Atlee says that his battalion, at least, had entirely emptied their cartridge-boxes), and had used what charges could be got from the enemy's dead and wounded, when Huntington's ammunition cart "very luckily" came on the ground, and the men were re-supplied for still a third attack, which was threatened with the assistance of the Forty-second Highlanders; but the British this time kept a safe distance, and Parsons and Atlee remained on the hill, where they collected the enemy's dead and placed their wounded underthe shelter of the trees. Thus bravely and effectively had this small body of Americans protected Stirling's flank and dealt the enemy the severest blows they suffered at any one point during the day, and this, as in the case of Stirling's men, with but small loss to themselves. From behind fences and trees, and, if tradition is correct, from the tops of trees as well, and from open ground on the hill, they kept up their destructive fire and successfully accomplished what they had been called upon to do.[144]That the British did not intend at this hour to drive Parsons and Atlee from their post is no detraction from the spirited fight made by these officers and their men, who knew nothing of the enemy's intentions, and who actually won the field from the troops they met. All along this front, from Stirling holding the road on the right to Parsons holding the left, with a long gap between them, the fighting thus far had resulted most favorably to the American side. The main line, as already stated, had lost not more than two officers killed and three or four wounded, with a small number of men; while Parsons and Atlee both report that in addition to the death of Lieutenant-Colonel Parry they lost only one or two men wounded. But, on the part of the British, Grant's two brigades, with the Forty-second Highlanders and thetwo companies of New York loyalists, lost, according to Howe's official report, two officers killed and four wounded, and among the men twenty-five killed and ninety-nine wounded. The four regiments alone which at different times encountered Parsons—the Seventeenth, Twenty-third, Forty-fourth, and Forty-second—lost in the aggregate eighty-six officers and men killed and wounded.
While, now, Stirling and Parsons seemed to be effectually blocking the advance of the British by the lower road and the Greenwood hills, what was the situation at the other passes?
Up to eight o'clock, some five hours after Grant's appearance at the Red Lion, no determined attack had been reported from either the Flatbush or Bedford roads. The Hessians had made some show of advancing from Flatbush at an early hour, but they had not as yet driven in our pickets, although approaching near enough for the guns at the breastwork on the road to fire upon them. No word had come from Miles; nothing had been heard from the patrol of officers at the Jamaica Pass. Whatever tactics the enemy were pursuing, it was evident that at this hour they had not developed indications of a simultaneous advance "all along the line." Were they making their principal push against Stirling? Were they waiting for the fleet to work its way up to co-operate? or would they still attempt to force the passes and the hills at all points and overcome the American outguards by sheer weight of numbers? Whatever theory our generals may have entertained at this time as to the intentions of the British—a point which we have no means of determining—it is certain that at about half-past eight or nine o'clock Major-General Sullivan rode out from the Brooklyn lines to the Flatbush Pass, with the evident purpose of examining the situation at that and other points, and of obtaining the latest information respecting the enemy's movements. We have this substantially from his own pen: "I went," he says, "to the hill near Flatbush to reconnoitre the enemy."[145]Nothing more natural, and nothing more necessary; the situation at that hour required that some responsible general officer should be in this vicinity to direct the disposition of the troops the moment the enemy uncovered their plan. Stirling on the lower road had his hands full, and it became some one's duty to see that he was not put in danger by any possible mishap elsewhere on the hills. Sullivan, therefore, the second in command, went out to "examine" and to "reconnoitre." He had been out the evening before, making the rounds with Putnam; to him Miles had reported the situation of affairs on the extreme left; and it was by his general orders that the last detail of guards had been made for each of the passes. He was accordingly familiar with the plan of the outer defence, and upon reaching the Flatbush Pass, where, as Miles states, he took his station at the redoubt or barricade on the road, he seems to have given certain directions on the strength of the information he had obtained. If we may credit the writer of one of the letters published at the time, the general wastold that the main body of the enemy were advancing by the lower road, "whereupon he ordered another battalion to the assistance of Lord Stirling, keeping 800 men to guard the pass."[146]It is not difficult to accept this as a correct statement of what actually occurred, because it is what we should expect would have taken place under the circumstances. That Sullivan took out any additional troops with him when he went to the pass does not appear, but doubtless some were sent there. But as to this Flatbush Pass, the most that can be said with any degree of certainty is, that at about nine o'clock in the morning the Hessians still remained comparatively quiet at the foot of the hills below; that our guards and pickets stood at their different posts, not in regular line, but detached on either side of the road, the commander of each party governing himself as necessity required; that they were expected to hold that point stubbornly, if for no other purpose now than to secure Stirling's line of retreat; and that if attacked they were to be reinforced. At the hour Sullivan reached the pass the situation at all points appeared to be satisfactory.
But little did the Americans suspect that at the very moment their defence seemed well arranged and their outguards vigilant they were already in the web which the enemy had been silently weaving around them during the night. That flanking column! Skilfully had it played its part in the British plans, and with crushing weight was it now to fall upon our outpost guards, who felt themselves secure along the hills and in the woods. Cross again into the opposite camp and follow the approach of this unlooked-for danger. First, Lord Howe withdrew Cornwallis from Flatbush to Flatlands towards evening on the 26th, and at nine o'clock at night set this flanking corps in motion. Sir Henry Clinton commanded the van, which consisted of the light dragoons and the brigade of light infantry. Cornwallis and the reserve immediately followed; and after him marched the First Brigade and the Seventy-first Regiment, with fourteen pieces of field artillery. These troops formed the advance corps, and were followed at a proper interval by Lord Percy and Howe himself, with the Second, Third, and Fifth brigades, the guards, and ten guns. The Forty-ninth Regiment, with four twelve-pounders, and the baggage with a separate guard, brought up the rear. All told, this column was hardly less than ten thousand strong. With three Flatbush Tories acting as guides, it took up the march and headed, as Howe reports, "across the country through the new lots" towards the Jamaica Pass, moving slowly and cautiously along the road from Flatlands until it reached Shoemaker's Bridge, which crossed a creek emptying into Jamaica Bay, when the column struck over the fields to the Jamaica Road, where it came to a halt in the open lots a short distance south-east of the pass, and directly in front of Howard's Halfway House.[147]
Here now occurred one of those incidents which, though insignificant in themselves, sometimes become fatalities that turn the scale of battle. The five American officers whom General Sullivan had sent out the evening before to patrol this pass had stationed themselves at this time, now between two and three o'clock on the morning of the 27th, a short distance east of Howard's house, apparently waiting for sounds of the enemy on the line of the road.Evidently they had no thought of his approach "across lots" from the direction of Flatlands, or they could not have left the pass unwatched by one or more of the party. For most of them, this was the first tour of military duty of so responsible a nature, and whatever mistakes they made may be referred to their inexperience or ignorance of the relative situation of the roads in that vicinity. Who had charge of the party does not appear. So far as known, only one of them, Lieutenant Van Wagenen, had seen any considerable service; but although something of a veteran, having entered the army in 1775 and charged with Montgomery upon Quebec, he could have known nothing of the country he was now patrolling. Lieutenants Troup and Dunscomb were young Columbia College graduates of two years' standing, who had eagerly taken up the cause of the colonists in the midst of adverse associations. Gilliland may have once been an officer in McDougall's regiment, and Hoogland was adjutant of Colonel Lasher's battalion. Had these officers, who without doubt were all mounted, been patrolling at the pass or nearer the lines, the events of the 27th might have worn a far different aspect. As it was, the British by coming into the road at Howard's had put themselves in the rear of the patrol, and its capture was quickly effected. Captain William Glanville Evelyn, "a gallant officer" of the Fourth Infantry, or King's Own, and a descendant of the eminent John Evelyn, of England, led the British advance this night, and it fell to his fortune to surround and capture all five American officers and send them immediately to Clinton, who commanded the leading column. Here was a blow inflicted upon us by the British, the real importance of which they themselves even were ignorant of, for they had made prisoners of the only patrol that waswatching the Jamaica route from the pass down to the very lines themselves!
Clinton "interrogated" the prisoners upon the spot, and ascertained from them that the pass had not been occupied by the Americans. He then attempted to obtain information of the position at Brooklyn and the number of troops now there, by pressing the officers with questions, when Dunscomb, indignant at the advantage he was taking of their situation, replied to Clinton that "under other circumstances he would not dare insult them in that manner." For this the young lieutenant was called "an impudent rebel," and the British officers threatened to have him hanged. Dunscomb's courage was equal to the occasion, and, scouting the threat, declared that Washington would hang man for man in return, and that as for himself he should give Clinton no further information. But stoutly as Dunscomb and his fellows maintained their rights and honor as prisoners, their capture was one of the fatal turns that brought misfortune to the American army.[148]
Upon learning that the pass was unguarded, Clinton, as Howe reports, ordered one of the light infantry battalions to occupy it, and soon after the main column followed. It would appear, however, that he still moved cautiously, and that the battalion, or the troops that followed, avoided a direct approach, and reached the Jamaica Road on the other side of the pass by a roundabout lane known as the Rockaway Path. The innkeeper Howard was waked up, and with his son compelled toguide the British around to the road, where it was discovered, as the patrol had stated, that the pass was unguarded. When the whole force had marched through to the other side it was halted for a brief "rest and refreshment," and then continued down the road to Bedford, where the van, consisting of dragoons and light infantry, arrived about half-past eight o'clock in the morning. So this flanking corps had succeeded in making a slow, difficult, and circuitous march of some nine miles from Flatlands during the night, and had placed itself directly in the rear of the left of the American outposts, before its approach was known in the Brooklyn camp. It was now nearer the lines than were our picket guards at either of the outposts on the hills, and by a swift advance down the Jamaica Road and along the Gowanus Road to its intersection with the Port Road, it could have interposed itself across every avenue of retreat from the hills to the lines. It was Howe's plan to cut off the American retreat entirely, but while successful in reaching our rear he fortunately failed to reap the fullest advantage of his move. The loss he was now able to inflict upon us was hardly a third of what might have been possible. But for the Americans it was more than enough. From this point followed trial and disaster. The day, which had opened so promisingly on the lower road, had already, at early dawn, been lost to them at the Jamaica Pass.
What next happened after the British reached Bedford? What, in the first place, had Miles been about in the woods on the extreme left that the enemy should gain his rear before he knew it? Fortunately we have the colonel himself and his lieutenant-colonel, Brodhead, to tell us much if they do not explain all. Miles then puts it on record that, on the day before the engagement,General Sullivan came to his camp, to whom he reported his belief that when the enemy moved they would fall into the Jamaica Road, and he hoped there were troops there to watch them. On the following morning, at about seven o'clock, firing began at the redoubt on the Flatbush Road, and he immediately marched in that direction, but was stopped by Colonel Wyllys at the Bedford Pass, who informed him that he could not pass on, as they were to defend the Bedford Road. "Colonel Wyllys bearing a Continental, and I a State commission," says Miles, "he was considered a senior officer, and I was obliged to submit; but I told him I was convinced the main body of the enemy would take the Jamaica Road, that there was no probability of their coming along the road he was then guarding, and if he would not let me proceed to where the firing was, I would return and endeavor to get into the Jamaica Road before General Howe. To this he consented, and I immediately made a retrograde march, and after marching nearly two miles, the whole distance through woods, I arrived within sight of the Jamaica Road, and to my great mortification I saw the main body of the enemy in full march between me and our lines, and the baggage guard just coming into the road."
Had Miles been surprised? This is one of the problems of the battle. For four days he had been on the watch on this flank, and now the British were in his rear! Would he have made that "retrograde" march this morning, when the strictest attention to one's particular orders was necessary, unless he had known that there were no troops on the Jamaica Road, and unless it was a part of his duty to reconnoitre in that direction? But he was now making a stout effort to find and fight Howe,and before charging him with a blunder let us follow the battle to its close.
One of Miles' soldiers hurried into camp and reported to Putnam that infantry and cavalry were marching down from the Jamaica Pass;[149]but all too late, for right upon the heels of the information came the enemy! They pushed down the road from Bedford, and across the country, to attack the American outguards in the rear, while the Hessians were to come up in front. So, if we glance over the field again at about half-past nine or ten o'clock on this eventful morning, we find the whole aspect changed, and our entire force on the hills apparently caught in a trap. Stirling was still facing Grant upon the right, but his rear was in danger; while Sullivan and the picket guards at the other passes were wedged in between the two powerful columns under Howe and De Heister. What now was done? Who escaped?
Evidently Miles, way out in the woods on the left, had the least prospect of getting back to the Brooklyn lines. When he found the British on the road between him and camp he first proposed to attack their baggage guard and cut his way through to the Sound, but on consulting his officers (his first battalion alone being with him) he turned about, determined to attempt a retreat to camp. It was impossible for him to succeed, for he had a march of full three miles to make; and after encountering the enemy once or twice in the woods, he, with many of his men, was compelled to surrender. Brodhead, while marching through the woods in Indian file to join him, was also attacked and his men dispersed, though most of them, with the lieutenant-colonel himself, escapedto the lines. The rout was speedily communicated to the guards at the two remaining points. At the Bedford Pass the detachments under Colonel Wyllys and Lieutenant-Colonel Wills appear to have realized their danger about the time the British reached Bedford village. Finding Miles' troops broken up and flying, they too, through fear of being intercepted, took up the retreat. Finally, at the Flatbush Pass—the last point in the outpost line to be attacked—the peril was still greater, for now the Hessians were moving up in front. Here, as we have seen, General Sullivan had just arrived to examine the situation. He had not long to wait, however, before the nature of that situation fully dawned upon him and the troops at the pass. While watching the Hessians at Flatbush they suddenly hear the rattle of musketry on the left of their rear, where British light infantry and dragoons are beginning to chase and fire upon Miles, Brodhead, and Wyllys, and their broken detachments. The Flatbush Pass was a point to be held, for it was the centre of the outpost line, and retreat therefrom would endanger Stirling; but Sullivan and his men must act promptly if they would do no more even than save themselves, for the enemy by this time are much nearer the Brooklyn lines than they. Just what occurred at this juncture the records fail to tell us clearly. Did Sullivan, as one letter states, immediately send word to Stirling to retreat?[150]This would have been the first and natural step. Whoever the commanding officer might be at the Flatbush Pass, it was for him to watch the situation at the outpost line and give orders to the right and left. All depended on what was done at that pass. If the guards there gave way all the others must give way instantly. Whether the word, therefore, reached Stirling or not, we must believe that Sullivan sent it, as he ought to have done, and is reported to have done. As for the general himself and his party, retreat was the only alternative. Leaving the advanced pickets to fall back before the Hessians, they turned towards the British in their rear. Very soon they encountered the light infantry and dragoons, who were now engaging in the attack with the highest dash and spirit. Reinforced by four companies of the guards, the latter captured three pieces of our artillery—the same, doubtless, which had just been playing upon the Hessians, but were now turned, in the retreat, upon the British—and which our gunners defended "heroically" to the last. Sullivan and his men fought well, and apparently in separate parties, until nearly all that had been stationed at the Flatbush Pass succeeded in breaking or making their way through to the lines.
Meanwhile the Hessians appeared. They came up from the Flatbush plains with drums beating and colors flying. Donop's grenadiers and yagers led, and immediately after them followed the veteran De Heister at the head of the brigades. Reaching the summit of the ridge, they deployed their lines, and putting their sharpshooters in advance, moved rapidly upon the position which our Flatbush Pass guard had just abandoned. They met with little opposition, for they had nothing before them but our scattered pickets. Soon, however, they fell in withthe retreating groups which the British had cut off from the lines and had pushed back into the hills, and upon these they fell fiercely, and in many instances cruelly. Where they found a rifleman resisting too long, they pinned him with their bayonets, and to some of the wounded they showed no mercy. Most of the prisoners fell into their hands, for the reason that they had been driven towards the Hessians by the British; but otherwise the day afforded no opportunity for fair fighting between these "foreigners" and our troops.[151]
Thus all along the hills, from the Flatbush Pass to the extreme left, our outer guards were in full retreat! It was a flight and fight to reach the Brooklyn lines! Ten o'clock—and Miles, Brodhead, Wyllys, Wills, Johnston, Henshaw, and Cornell, with two thousand men, were hurrying through the woods, down the slopes and across the fields, some singly, some in groups, some keeping together in companies, some in battalions, all aiming forone objective—the camp! Here they fought the light infantry; there they were charged upon by the dragoons; those who were intercepted fell into the hands or upon the bayonets of the Hessians. It was a trying and desperate situation from which there was no relief and for a long time the woods echoed with the shouts and cries of the contending parties. But upon the whole the loss to the Americans up to this time was not heavy, and could Stirling have been saved, the enemy would have had no great victory to boast of. Full half of Miles' two battalions reached the lines; Wyllys' and Chester's suffered but slightly; Henshaw and Cornell brought their men in without much loss, and in comparatively good order; the greatest blow to the Jerseymen was the death of their brave colonel, Johnston, their casualties otherwise being light; and Knowlton's hundred rangers just saved themselves from the dragoons, "with the utmost difficulty and on the full run." The artillerymen suffered more. General Sullivan himself, after showing good courage and avoiding capture until noon, endeavored to conceal himself, but was found and made prisoner by three Hessian grenadiers.[152]
The day was lost at the left and centre, and it only remains to return to Stirling on the right. This general stood his ground firmly, though the firing in his rear grewominously distinct. He refused to retreat, says Scott, for want of orders. If Sullivan sent him orders, as we have assumed on one writer's authority that he did, they failed to reach him. The time had come for the general to act on his own judgment, and finding his salvation dependent on an immediate retreat, he fell back from Grant's front between eleven and twelve o'clock, but only to discover that he too was surrounded. The force which had anticipated him was Cornwallis with the Seventy-first Regiment and the Second Grenadiers, and they were holding his line of retreat on the Gowanus Road. Stirling, realizing his danger, at once determined upon the only manœuvre that promised escape for any of his command. Upon his left lay the Gowanus marsh and creek, where both were at their broadest, and where a crossing had never been attempted. But now the attempt must be made, or every man is lost. Upon the other side of the creek are the Brooklyn peninsula, the lines, and safety. Stirling therefore ordered his men to make their way across as they could, while, to protect them as they forded or swam, he himself took Gist and half the Maryland battalion and proceeded to attack Cornwallis. Against all the misfortunes of the day this piece of resolution and true soldiership stands out in noble relief. The Marylanders followed their general without flinching, and were soon "warmly engaged" with the enemy, who had posted themselves at a house—the old "Cortelyou" house—above the upper mills near the intersection of the Port and Gowanus roads. They rallied to the attack several times, as Stirling reports, and seemed on the point of dislodging Cornwallis, when reinforcements came up, and the British drove back the Marylanders into a piece of woods. Here, with conspicuous courage and determination, they formed again for still another effort to break through. Stirling's example was inspiring. "He encouraged and animated our young soldiers," writes Gist, "with almost invincible resolution." But his handful of brave men had done all that was possible, and in their last charge they were met by great numbers and forced to retire again, "with much precipitation and confusion."[153]They broke up into small parties and sought escape. Nine only, among whom was Major Gist, succeeded in crossing the creek, the rest having retreated into the woods.[154]Stirling endeavored to get into the lines between the British and Fort Box, or by way of the mill-dam, but finding this impossible, he turned, ran through their fire, and eluding pursuit around a hill, made his way to the Hessian corps and surrendered himself to General De Heister. He had sacrificed himself and party as prisoners, but his main object was accomplished. The rest of the command was saved! They crossed the marsh and creek with a loss of but two or three killed and six or eight drowned.
It was during this scene in the incidents of the day that Washington and his staff came upon the ground. They had remained at New York watching the fleet, when, finding that no danger was to be apprehended from that quarter, they crossed to Long Island. From the top of one of the hills within the lines, possibly Cobble Hill, the Chief witnessed Stirling's retreat and fight, and is said there to have been profoundly moved as he saw how many brave men he must inevitably lose. Colonel Smallwood, of the Marylanders, who had rejoined his regiment, petitioned for a force to march out and assist Stirling, but the general declined on account of the risks involved. Douglas's Connecticut levies, just coming up from the ferry,[155]were sent to the extreme right opposite the mouth of Gowanus Creek, where, with Captain Thomas' Maryland Independent Company and two pieces of artillery, they stood ready to prevent pursuit of the retreating party by the enemy.
Last of all, where were Parsons and Atlee? Had they been holding that hill in Greenwood all the morning, with a tenacity worthy of veterans, only to be swallowedup in the defeat and confusion of the day? Such was to be their fate. For some unexplained reason, when Stirling fell back, he failed to inform Parsons of his move. Both Parsons and Atlee state that no word reached them to join the general, and that it was greatly to their surprise when they found the line, whose flank they had been protecting, no longer there. Whatever the mistake, there was no time to lose, for the enemy were now pressing on this little force, and it must retreat as Stirling had done. But it soon found itself more effectually hemmed in than any party in the field. Cornwallis, after driving the Marylanders back, had complete command of the road, and as Parsons and Atlee came along they found it impossible even to reach the marsh. Some escaped, but the greater part turned into the woods and were all taken. Atlee, with twenty-three men, avoided capture until five o'clock in the afternoon; while Parsons, more fortunate, hid in a swamp, having escaped from the action and pursuit "as by a miracle," and with seven men made his way into our lines at daylight next morning.[156]
The battle was over. It had continued at intervals, at one point or another, over a range of five miles, from three o'clock in the morning until nearly two in the afternoon. Less than five thousand Americans at the passes, including Stirling's command and all others who had marched out during the morning, had been swept up orswept back by nearly twenty thousand British and Hessians. For our troops it was a total defeat. They had been forced to abandon the outer line of defence—the very line Washington wished should be held "at all hazards"—and had been driven into the fortified camp on the Brooklyn peninsula. This result would have inevitably come, sooner or later, but no one could have entertained the possibility of its coming in this sudden and disastrous shape.
Looking back over the day's work, the cause of the defeat is apparent at once:We had been completely outflanked and surprised on the Jamaica Road.Where the responsibility for the surprise should rest is another question. Evidently, if that patrol of officers had not been captured, but, upon discovering the approach of the enemy, had carried the word directly to Miles' camp and to headquarters, the enemy would not have gained the rear of our outposts without warning. Miles and Wyllys could have interposed themselves across their path, and held the ground long enough at least to put our troops at the other points on their guard. The surprise of this patrol, therefore, can alone explain the defeat. But as the officers appear to have been sent out as an additional precaution, the responsibility must be shared by Miles and his regiment, who were the permanent guard on the left. Brodhead, who wrote eight days after the event, distinctly asserts that there were no troops beyond them, and that, for want of videttes, that flank was left for them to watch. Parsons, as officer of the day, reports that Miles was expected to patrol across the Jamaica Road. But to charge the colonel personally with a fatal mistake or neglect is not warranted by the facts. His ownpatrols and pickets may have failed him. The simple fact appears that this regiment was put upon our left, that our left was turned, and the battle lost in consequence. As to the generalship of the day, if the responsibility falls on any one, it falls first on Sullivan, who sent out the mounted patrol in the first instance, and to whom it belonged to follow up the precautions in that direction. Putnam was in chief command, but nothing can be inferred from contemporary records to fasten neglect or blunder upon him any more than upon Washington, who, when he left the Brooklyn lines on the evening of the 26th, must have known precisely what disposition had been made for the night at the hills and passes. And upon Washington certainly the responsibility cannot rest.[157]
What has been said of other defeats may be said with equal truth of this one: if it was a disaster, it was not a disgrace. Even the surprise upon the left discloses nocriminal misconduct. In the actual fighting of the day our soldiers stood their ground. Necessarily we suffered heavily in prisoners, but otherwise our loss was inconsiderable. All the light that we have to-day goes to establish the very important fact, originally credited and reported by Washington himself, but which hardly a single historical writer has since ventured to repeat, that at the battle of Long Islandthe British and Hessians suffered a loss in killed and wounded equal to that inflicted upon the Americans.[158]Howe reported his total casualties at three hundred and sixty-seven officers and soldiers. On the side of the Americans the total loss did not exceed one thousand. About eight hundred, including ninety-one officers, were taken prisoners; not more than six officers and about fifty privates were killed; and less than sixteen officers and one hundred and fifty privates wounded. No frightful slaughter of our troops, as sometimes pictured, occurred during the action. It was a field where the American soldier, in every fair encounter, proved himself worthy of the cause he was fighting for.
To those who fell in the engagement we may render here a grateful tribute, though something more than this is due. Their services and sacrifices are deserving of remembrance rather by a lasting memorial; for men diedhere who showed not less of individual worth and heroism than others who are immortalized on victorious fields. Thus at the Flatbush Road we find Philip Johnston, colonel of the Jersey battalion, which formed part of the guard there during the night. He was the son of the worthy Judge Samuel Johnston, of the town of Sidney in Hunterdon County. In his youth he had been a student at Princeton, but, dropping his books, he took up the sword for the colonies in the French war, from which he returned with honor. The troubles with Great Britain found him ready again to fight in defence of common rights and his native soil. Parting from his wife and child with touching affection, he took the field with his regiment, and when attacked on Long Island he showed all the qualities which mark the true soldier. A gentleman of high principle, an officer of fine presence, one of the strongest men in the army, he fought near Sullivan with the greatest bravery until he fell mortally wounded. That August 27th was his thirty-fifth birthday.
Equally glorious and regretted was the death of Lieutenant-Colonel Caleb Parry, of Atlee's regiment, which occurred, as already noticed, at an earlier hour and in another part of the field. He too was in the prime of life, and eager to render the country some good service. A representative colonist, descended from an ancient and honorable family long seated in North Wales, and a man of polish and culture, he stood ready for any sacrifice demanded of him at this crisis. Parry came from Chester County, Pennsylvania, leaving a wife and five children, and crossed with his regiment to Long Island four days before the battle. Under what circumstances he fell has been told. As they crossed the line of Greenwood Cemetery to take position at or near "Battle Hill," the littlecommand was greeted with a sudden though harmless volley from the enemy. The men shrunk and fell back, but Atlee rallied and Parry cheered them on, and they gained the hill. It was here, while engaged in an officer's highest duty, turning men to the enemy by his own example, that the fatal bullet pierced his brow. When some future monument rises from Greenwood to commemorate the struggle of this day, it can bear no more fitting line among its inscriptions than this tribute of Brodhead's, "Parry died like a hero."
Captain Edward Veazey, of the Marylanders, belonged to the family of Veazeys who settled in Cecil County, on the eastern shore of that State, and who traced their lineage back to the Norman De Veazies of the eleventh century. The captain was fifty-five years of age, took up the colonial cause at the start, raised the Seventh Independent Company of Maryland troops, and was among the earliest to fall in Stirling's line.
Captain Joseph Jewett, of Huntington's Continentals, perhaps defending himself to the last, even when escape was impossible, was three times stabbed with British bayonets after surrendering his sword. Cared for by a humane surgeon, but still lingering in pain, he died on the morning of the 29th, and was buried in the Bennett orchard, near Twenty-second Street and Third Avenue. He left a family at Lyme, on the Connecticut, where he lived, and from where he went to join the army on the Lexington alarm. A soldier who fought on Long Island remembers him as "an officer much respected and beloved, of elegant and commanding appearance, and of unquestionable bravery."
The officers and men of the artillery, who fought the six pieces we had in the action, covered themselves withhonor. They were "the flower" of Knox's regiment, picked for a field fight. Captain Carpenter, of Providence, fell in Stirling's command, leaving a widow to mourn him. Captain John Johnston, of Boston, was desperately wounded, but recovered under the care of Surgeon Eustis. The record which John Callender, of the same place, made for himself is a familiar story. To wipe out the stain of an undeserved sentence passed upon him after Bunker Hill, by which he was cashiered, he rejoined the artillery as a private soldier, and then, as a "cadet," fought his piece on Long Island until the enemy's bayonets were at his breast. Upon his exchange as prisoner a year later, Washington restored him to his rank as captain-lieutenant, and he served honorably to the end of the war. Harmanus Rutgers, one of the patriotic Rutgers brothers in New York, serving, it would seem, as a gunner, was struck in the breast by a cannon-shot, and fell dead at his post. The tradition preserved in his family is that he was the first man killed in the battle. Knox, hearing how well his men had done, wrote to his wife: "I have met with some loss in my regiment. They fought like heroes and are gone to glory."
Of three others known to have been killed during the day, and who probably complete the list of officers, we have no more than the fact that they fell. They were Lieutenant Joseph Jacquet, of Miles' first battalion, and Lieutenants David Sloan and Charles Taylor, of the second battalion—all apparently from Chester County, Pennsylvania. Hardly more than three or four names of the private soldiers who were killed have been preserved, owing doubtless to the fact that, if they were ever known, it was not until long after, when no rolls would show their fate.
To the roll of the dead must be added also the honored name of General Nathaniel Woodhull, of Long Island. On the day after the battle, a party of British light horse, under Oliver De Lancey, rode out on the Jamaica Road and surprised the general at an inn, where without provocation he was cruelly hacked in the head and arm, and carried off a prisoner. He survived until the 20th, when he died at New Utrecht. His loss was greatly regretted, for he was a man of energy and ability, and had the success of the Revolutionary cause most fervently at heart.[159]
This battle was regarded at the time as one of very great importance, and the result created a deep impression on both sides of the water. In England they had long been waiting for the news, and the king became depressed at the British delay in moving; in addition, the first reports, coming by way of France, were unfavorable. But at last, at three o'clock on the morning of October 10th, Major Cuyler, of Howe's staff, reached the government with the official accounts of the victory. Immediately, as Walpole tells us, the Court was filled with "an extravagance of joy." The relief was so great that it was displayed with "the utmost ostentation." The king at once determined to send Howe "a red riband;" and Lord Mansfield, who had thrown the weight of his great legal abilities against America, was created an earl. The Mayor and Corporation of York voted an address to his Majesty "on the victory at Long Island;" at Leeds theyrang the bells, lighted windows, fired cannon, and started a huge bonfire which made the town "quite luminous;" and at Halifax, Colne, Huddersfield, and many other places, similar rejoicings were held. At Limerick Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell ordered the garrison under arms, and fired three volleys "on account of the success of his Majesty's troops at Long Island;" and, for the same reason, in the evening "a number of ladies and gentlemen were elegantly entertained at dinner by the bishop." From Paris Silas Deane wrote to Congress: "The want of instructions or intelligence or remittances, with the late check on Long Island, has sunk our credit to nothing." In Amsterdam, the centre of exchange for all Europe, English stocks rose; but the Dutch, with characteristic shrewdness, failed to accept "our misfortune" as final, and took the opportunity to sell out. In London Tory circles they considered the American war as practically over, and some began to talk of new schemes of colonial government.
As for America, the defeat, coupled with the subsequent retreat, everywhere carried alarm and keen disappointment. Greene speaks of the "panic" in the county. But at the same time many brave voices were raised to counteract despondency. Parsons, in the army, wrote: "I think the trial of that day far from being any discouragement, but in general our men behaved with firmness." Bartlett, in Congress, sent word home to New Hampshire that he hoped the event would only make our generals more careful in their future operations. "We have lost a battle and a small island," said Dr. Rush, of Philadelphia, in one of the sessions a few days later, "but we have not lost a State. Why thenshould we be discouraged? Or why should we be discouraged even if we had lost a State? If there were but one State left, still that one should peril all for independence." "The panic may seize whom it will," wrote John Adams; "it shall not seize me." But the grandest words inspired by the pervading anxiety were those penned by Abigail Adams, the noble wife of the Massachusetts delegate. "We have had many stories," she wrote from Braintree, September 9th, "concerning engagements upon Long Island this week, of our lines being forced and of our troops returning to New York. Particulars we have not yet obtained. All we can learn is that we have been unsuccessful there; having many men as prisoners, among whom are Lord Stirling and General Sullivan.But if we should be defeated, I think we shall not be conquered. A people fired, like the Romans, with love of their country and of liberty, a zeal for the public good, and a noble emulation of glory, will not be disheartened or dispirited by a succession of unfortunate events. But, like them, may we learn by defeat the power of becoming invincible!"
This was the true inspiration of the hour. It was this that sustained Washington and the strong men of the country through all the dark period that followed. The disaster of the 27th was a disciplinary experience. It was but the first of a series of blows that were to harden us for future endurance. The event was accepted in this spirit by all who had taken up the cause in earnest; and in this light the memory of the day deserves to be forever celebrated and perpetuated. Here, on Long Island, all was done that could be done, for we had met the enemy at the sea. Here America made her first standagainst England's first great effort to subdue her; and here her resolution to continue resistance was first tested and tempered in the fire of battle.
The Losses at the Battle.—So many widely different estimates have been made as to the extent of the American loss on Long Island, that it becomes a matter of historical interest to fix the actual figures, if possible, beyond dispute.
The first official reference to the matter occurs in the letter which Washington directed Colonel Harrison, his secretary, to write to Congress on the evening of the battle. Nothing definite on this point being known at that hour, Harrison, after announcing the attack of the enemy, and the retreat of the troops into the Brooklyn lines, could only make the vague report that the American loss was "pretty considerable." On Thursday morning, the 29th, at "half after foura.m.," Washington himself wrote to Hancock that he was still uncertain how far the army had suffered. On Saturday, the 31st, he wrote again, and in this letter gave an estimate in figures. This was the only report he made to Congress in the matter, except indirectly. "Nor have I," he writes, "been yet able to obtain an exact account of our loss; we suppose it from seven hundred to a thousand killed and taken." In subsequent public and private letters to his brother, to Governor Trumbull, General Schuyler, and the Massachusetts Assembly, Washington did not vary these figures materially (except to make the estimate closer, about 800), and they stand, therefore, as his official return of the casualties of that day.
Sir William Howe's report, on the other hand, presented altogether a different showing. It left no room for doubt as to the extent of the British victory. Dated September 3d, seven days after the affair, it contained all those particulars of events up to that time which a successful general is well aware will be received with special satisfaction by his government. The landing at Gravesend, the occupation of Flatbush, the skilful march of the flanking column, the bravery of the troops, and the complete success of the entire plan of action were mentioned in order; while a detailed statement and estimate of the losses on either side, including a tabulated return of prisoners taken, only fortified the impression that a most damaging defeat had been served upon the Americans. Against Washington's estimate of a total of one thousand or less for his own loss, Howe reported that the enlisted men he captured alone numbered one thousand and six, and that in addition he took ninety-one commissioned officers, of whom three were generals, three colonels, four lieutenant-colonels, three majors, eighteen captains, forty-three lieutenants, eleven ensigns, one adjutant, three surgeons, and two volunteers; and he "computed" that in killed, wounded, and drowned, the Americans lost two thousand two hundred more. On the part of the British, Howe reportedfive officers and fifty-six men killed, twelve officers and two hundred and fifty-five men wounded, and one officer and thirty men prisoners and missing. The Hessians lost two men killed, three officers and twenty-three men wounded. Howe's total loss, in a word, was made to appear at less than four hundred; Washington's full three thousand three hundred.
The apparent exactness of this report has secured it, in general, against close analysis. English historians, almost without exception, quote it as it stands, while there are American writers who respect it so far as to pronounce Washington's report clearly, and even purposely, inaccurate. Thus the most recent English history of this period says: "The Americans fled in confusion, leaving upwards of three thousand killed, wounded, and prisoners, including their three generals of division;" and in a note the writer adds: "Washington's estimate of the loss on both sides was grossly incorrect. In his letter to Congress of the 30th August, giving a very meagre and evasive account of the action, he says that his loss in killed and prisoners was from 700 to 1000; and that he had reason to believe the enemy had suffered still more. This would seem to be a wilful misrepresentation to prevent the public alarm which might have been caused by the knowledge of his real loss; were it not that in a private letter to his brother, three weeks afterwards, he makes a similar statement. General Howe's returns ofprisoners, and of his own killed and wounded, are precise." (History of England during the Reign of George the Third.By the Right Hon. William Massey, 1865.) Among Brooklyn writers, Mr. Field asserts that Washington concealed the actual extent of his loss, and Dr. Stiles accepts the British report as it stands. Marshall puts the American loss at over 1000; Irving, 2000; Lossing, 1650; Field, 2000; Sparks, 1100; Bancroft, 800; Carrington, 970. Stedman, the earliest British historian, gives 2000, while Adolphus, Jesse, and Massey, who cover the reign of George III., blindly follow Howe and give over 3000 for the American loss.
There is but one explanation of this wide discrepancy between the British and American returns, namely: Washington's original estimate at its largest limit—one thousand, killed, wounded, and prisoners—was almost precisely correct.
Of this there can be no question whatever, the proof being a matter of record. Thus, on the 8th of October, Washington issued the following order: "The General desires the commanding officers of each regiment or corps will give in a list of the names and the officers and men who were killed, taken, or missing in the action of the 27th of August on Long Island and since that period. He desires the returns may be correct, &c." (Force). A large number of these lists are preserved inForce, 5th series, vol. iii., and from these we obtain the losses of the following regiments: Hitchcock's, total loss, one officer and nine men; Little's, three men; Huntington's, twenty-one officers and one hundred and eighty-six men; Wyllys', one officer and nine men; Tyler, three men; Ward, three men; Chester, twelve men; Gay, four men; Lasher, three officers. Smallwood's lost, according to Gist, twelve officers and two hundred and forty-seven men; Haslet, according to his own letters, two officers and twenty-five men; Johnston's New Jersey, two officers and less than twenty-five men, the rolls before and after the battle showing nogreater difference in the strength of the regiment; Miles' two battalions, sixteen officers and about one hundred and sixty men (Document61); Atlee, eleven officers and seventy-seven men. (Ibid.) No official report of the losses in Lutz's, Kachlein's, and Hay's detachments or the artillery can be found, but to give their total casualties at one hundred and fifty officers and men is probably a liberal estimate. Lutz lost six officers (all prisoners); Kachlein not more; Hay, one; the artillery, three. The regiments named in the foregoing list include all from which Howe reported that he took officers prisoners, from which it is safe to conclude that these were all that lost any. No others are mentioned as having been engaged. These figures show in round numbers a total ofone thousand, and this was our total loss, according to official returns in nearly every case.
How many of these, in the next place, were killed and wounded? If we are to credit certain Hessian and British accounts, as well as those of our own local historians, the battle-field on Long Island was a scene of carnage, a pen in which our men were slaughtered without mercy. The confused strife, says one writer, "is too terrible for the imagination to dwell upon." "An appalling massacre," says another, "thus closed the combat." "The forest," writes a Hessian officer, "was a scene of horror; there were certainly two thousand killed and wounded lying about." Lord Howe himself, as we have seen, "computed" that the American loss in killed and wounded alone was two thousand three hundred. But a striking commentary on this computation is not only the total omission on his part to mention how many of this very large number he buried on the field, but the important admission he makes that not more than sixty-seven wounded American officers and soldiers fell into his hands! Where were the twenty-two hundred other maimed and fallen rebels? Obviously, and as Howe must have well known, the Americans could carry few if any of their dead with them on their precipitate retreat, nor could any but the slightly hurt of the wounded make their escape. Full two thousand, by this calculation, must have been left upon the field. Who buried them? Were they the victims of the supposed frightful slaughter? Did the British general purposely give an evasive estimate to cover up the inhumanity which would thus have forever stained the glory of his victory? Far from it. That "computation" has no basis to stand upon; but, on the contrary, our loss in killed and wounded was not greater than the enemy's, but most probably less.
This statement will bear close examination. On the 19th of September, after he must have been able to satisfy himself as to the extent of the defeat on Long Island, the commander-in-chief wrote to the Massachusetts Assembly that he had lost about eight hundred men, "more than three fourths of which were taken prisoners." He wrote the same thing to others. So Washington felt authorized to state positively that we lost in killed and wounded that day not over two hundred men and officers. "The enemy's loss in killed," he added, "we could never ascertain; but have many reasons to believe that it was pretty considerable, and exceeded ours a good deal." General Parsons, who saw as much of the field as any other officer, wrote to John Adams two days after the battle: "Our loss in killed and wounded is inconsiderable." General Scott, writing to John Jay, a week later, could say: "What our loss on Long Island was I am not able to estimate. I think from the best accounts we must have killed many of the enemy." Colonel Douglas wrote, August 31st: "The enemy surrounded a large detachment of our army, took many, killed some and the rest got off.... By the best account we killed more of them than they did of us. But they took the most prisoners." Lieutenant-Colonel Chambers, who was in the way of gathering many particulars from the Pennsylvanians who escaped, says: "Our men behaved as bravely as men ever did; but it is surprising that, with the superiority of numbers, they were not cut to pieces.... Our loss is chiefly in prisoners." Lieutenant-Colonel Brodhead, who had to retreat among the last over the very ground which others have marked out as the scene of the massacre, as the site where "lay nearly one thousand men, slain in the shock of battle, or by subsequent murder" (Field)—Brodhead says: "I retreated to the lines, having lost out of the whole battalion, about one hundred men, officers included, which, as they were much scattered, must be chiefly prisoners.... No troops could behave better than the Southern, for though they seldom engaged less than five to one, they frequently repulsed the Enemy with great Slaughter, and I am confident that the number of killed and wounded on their side, is greater than on ours, notwithstanding we had to fight them front and rear under every disadvantage." Colonel Silliman, of Connecticut, who appears to have made particular inquiries in the matter, wrote, September 10th: "I think upon the best information I can get that we are about 1000 men the worse for that action. The Enemy say they have about 800 of them prisoners. We have about 50 of them in the hospital wounded. Of the other 150 'tis said that in the engagement a considerable number of the riflemen deserted and went over to the enemy and some no doubt escaped towards the other end of the Island. On the whole I do not think we had 50 men killed in the action." (MS. letter.) These are statements made by officers who were present at the battle, and who wrote within a few days of the event. They all, with many others, reach the same conclusion that the enemy suffered in killed and wounded as much if not more than the Americans. Their testimony, moreover, is strengthened by what we know directly and indirectly from the returns and other sources. The loss in officers, of which we have exact figures, is one basis of calculation. Ninety-one, as already stated, were taken prisoners, of whom nine were reported wounded in Howe's return. Among these were General Woodhull, Colonel Johnston, and Captain Jewett, all three mortally wounded, and Captain Bowie and Lieutenant Butler, of the Marylanders; Captain Johnston, of the artillery; Captain Peebles, of Miles', and Lieutenant Makepeace, of Huntington's. [Colonel Johnston is usually mentioned as having been killed on the field. But Howe's return gives one New Jersey colonel prisoner, and Elking's Hessian account states that he was wounded after being made prisoner.] Among officers known to be wounded, not captured, were Major McDonough, Lieutenants Course and Anderson, of the Delawares; Lieutenant Hughes, of Hitchcock's; and Captain Farmer, of Miles'. Lieutenant Patterson, of Hay's detachment, was either killed or captured (ColonelCunningham's return). The officers killed were Lieutenant-Colonel Parry, Captain Carpenter, Captain Veazey, and Lieutenants Sloan, Jacquet, and Taylor. Various accounts state that Colonel Rutgers, Lieutenant-Colonel Eppes, Major Abeel (of Lasher's), Captain Fellows, and Lieutenant Moore (of Pennsylvania) were killed, but there is an error in each case, all these officers being reported alive at different dates after the battle. We have, then, twenty-one killed or wounded (six only killed on the field) among the American officers engaged in the action. If, as we have a right to assume, the same proportion held among the enlisted men, our total loss in killed and wounded could not have exceeded two hundred or two hundred and fifty, or more than one hundred less than the enemy's loss. Parsons and Atlee write that they lost but two or three. Miles says that in one of his skirmishes he lost a number of men, but nearly all were made prisoners. Little's regiment lost one killed; Hitchcock's the same. The five companies of Smallwood's battalion that attacked Cornwallis lost but one officer wounded, or at the most one killed and one wounded, and there is no reason to suppose that the men suffered very heavily. The loss among the Delawares was nearly all in prisoners. Lutz had six officers taken, but none killed or wounded; Hay lost one officer, either killed or prisoner. In Kachlein's detachment it is certain that the lieutenant-colonel, major, adjutant, three captains, and three lieutenants were not killed, which leaves little room for casualties in a party of not over four or five companies. So of all the other regiments engaged, they suffered but slightly in killed or wounded.
Howe's list of prisoners was undoubtedly swelled by captures among the Long Island militia and citizen Whigs after the battle. He includes General Woodhull and two lieutenants, for instance, who were not taken at the battle but on the day following, and who, as Washington says, were "never arranged" in his army.
The reports of the slaughter and massacre of our troops current in the enemy's camp at the time were greatly exaggerated. Some of our men were probably cut down most wantonly in the pursuit through the woods, both by British and Hessians, but the number was small. It is a noticeable and significant fact that the American accounts make no mention of any such wholesale cruelty, and certainly our soldiers would have been the first to call attention to it. That word "massacre" should have no place in any accurate description of the battle.