Part 16

The British, having nothing else to do, now settled down comfortably in Philadelphia, where they lived on the very best of everything. They spent most of their time giving balls and parties, and grew so fat and lazy that, as Franklin wittily said, "Howe has not taken Philadelphia so much as Philadelphia has taken Howe." This remark proved true, for although the plan had been that Howe should march northward, he was delayed by Washington until it was almost too late. Besides, we are told that the British general never received positive orders to go north, for the paper, being badly written, was laid aside to be copied, and forgotten until too late.

Meanwhile the British again tried to carry out their plan of invading New York from Canada. This time, while one army started from Lake Ontario for the Mo´hawk valley, Burgoyne came southward up Lake Champlain, with British and Indian troops, and took Forts Ticonderoga and Edward. This was considered a great victory in England, and when King George heard that Ticonderoga was taken, he clapped his hands and shouted: "I have beat them! I have beat all the Americans!"

This was not true, however. But General Schuȳ´ler, sent to oppose Burgoyne, had so small a force that all he could do was to hinder the enemy's advance by cutting down trees and destroying bridges.

The king's advisers had told Burgoyne to hire Indians to help him, and in spite of all he could do to prevent it, these savage allies fought with their usual cruelty. They even killed and scalped Jane McCreā, a beautiful young lady, who, it is said, was on her way to meet a British officer to whom she was engaged. When this man saw her long golden locks among the scalps the Indians brought back, he left the army, and spent the rest of his life alone, mourning for his betrothed.

After taking the two forts, Burgoyne, hearing that there were cannon and stores at Ben´ning-ton, Vermont, sent part of his German troops thither to secure them. But when his men drew near this place, they found it ably defended by General Stark.

Even as a boy, this American patriot had always shown great courage and presence of mind. Once, when a prisoner of the Indians, and forced to run the gantlet. Stark snatched a club from one of his captors, and struck right and left with such vigor that he dealt more blows than he received. Later on, he also did many brave deeds during the French and Indian wars.

When the Germans drew near Bennington, Stark led his men against the foe, crying: "There they are, boys! We beat them to-day or Molly Stark's a widow." The men, fired by his example, fought so bravely that they soon won a signal victory. As Washington said, this was a "grand stroke," for the Germans were almost all captured or killed, while only a few of the Americans were lost.

We are told that one old man had five sons in this battle. On the morrow, a neighbor, wishing to break the news of one son's death, gently said: "One of your sons has been unfortunate." "Did he run away or neglect his duty?" the father asked quickly. "No; worse than that! He has fallen, but while fighting bravely." "Ah!" said the father, "then I am satisfied!" For the old man was such a good patriot that he was quite willing his sons should die for their country, and considered that only traitors and cowards needed pity.

LXX. BURGOYNE'S SURRENDER.

The victory at Bennington not only saved the American cannon and supplies from the hands of the foe, but enabled Stark and the Green Mountain Boys to get between Burgoyne and Canada. They thus cut him off from all help from the north, whence he expected both food and ammunition for his men.

While Burgoyne was thus between Generals Schuyler and Stark, St. Lěġ´er, another British general, was coming along the Mohawk valley to join Burgoyne at Albany. On his way, however, he stopped to besiege Fort Stan´wix, or Schuyler. Eight hundred volunteers set out to reinforce the garrison, but on the way thither, at O-ris´ka-ny, they were surprised by the Indian chief Brant. Their leader, General Her´ki-mer, mortally wounded in the very beginning of the engagement, bade his men place him under a tree, and then bravely said: "Now, go and fight. I will face the enemy." In spite of pain, he calmly lighted his pipe, and, while smoking, directed his troops with such vigor that before long the Indians were routed.

The garrison at Fort Stanwix, hearing shots in the forest, made a brave sortie, in which they captured five flags from St. Leger. These they hoisted above their fort, upside down, putting above them all a new flag made from pieces of a soldier's old shirt, a blue jacket, and a red flannel petticoat. Although fashioned from such queer materials, this flag bore thirteen alternate red and white stripes, and in a blue field in one corner was a wreath of thirteen white stars, the number of the United States. This was the new American flag suggested by Washington--whose coat of arms bore stars and stripes--and adopted by Congress in June, 1777.

But while the patriots thus fashioned a rude flag in the wilderness, and were the first to fight under this emblem, it was Mrs. Ross, of Philadelphia, who made the first American flag of this kind, in June, 1777.

When Schuyler heard of Herkimer's brave stand, and of the bold sortie from Fort Stanwix, he bade Arnold go and relieve the fort. Fearing that his force might not prove strong enough, Arnold made use of a trick. He told one of the prisoners, a half-witted lad, that he should be free if he would only do exactly as he was bidden. The lad agreed, and, clad in torn garments, ran to St. Leger's camp, loudly shouting, "The Americans are coming!" Of course the British and Indians crowded around him, and when the idiot was asked how many men were on the way, he answered by pointing mysteriously to the leaves on the trees overhead. This strange behavior made St. Leger believe that a large force was advancing, and created such a panic among his men that, in spite of all he could do, they beat a hasty retreat.

As St. Leger had gone back, and Howe had not come up the Hudson, Burgoyne was left entirely alone in the heart of the enemy's country. Schuyler was therefore on the point of winning a glorious victory, after all his hard work, when Congress suddenly bade him give up his command to General Gates. Although wounded to the quick by this order, Schuyler was too noble a man to show any anger. He gallantly said, "The country before everything," and asked permission of Gates to serve as an officer under him, since he could no longer command.

Burgoyne was surrounded, and seeing that he must fight, he advanced toward the American position on Be´mis Heights, near which the first battle of Săr-a-tō´ga took place. But night came on before it was over, and for more than two weeks the armies stood face to face, watching each other closely, yet not daring to risk a new battle. Finally, seeing that he must fight, starve, or retreat, Burgoyne marched out again, to face the Americans in what is known as the battle of Still´wa-ter.

Daniel Morgan and his sharpshooters, posted behind trees, carefully singled out the bravest men, and shot them with unerring aim. Indeed, such was their skill that it is said Morgan's riflemen could "toss up an apple and shoot all the seeds out of it as it fell."

Chief among the British officers on that day was General Fra´ser, who, when urged to take a less exposed position, simply replied: "My duty forbids me to fly from danger." Even while he was speaking thus, Morgan pointed him out to one of his best marksmen, saying: "That gallant officer is General Fraser. I admire and honor him; but he must die. Stand among those bushes, and do your duty." These orders were so promptly carried out that a moment later Fraser lay among the dead.

Arnold had been unjustly deprived of his command, but he could not keep out of the fray. Dashing to the front, he led the advance with his usual bravery, and forced his way into the British camp. But as he reached it he fell wounded in the same leg which had suffered at Quebec. His men tenderly bore him off the field of battle, where he had won a victory while General Gates was lingering in his tent.

During the battle, some women and children who were with the British army crouched in terror in the cellar of a neighboring house, listening to the shriek of the cannon balls overhead. The wounded in this building clamored for water, until, knowing the men would perish if they ventured out, a soldier's wife marched boldly down to the river. She did this several times, in full view of the Americans, who admired her courage and let her alone.

The battle had raged so fiercely that Burgoyne retreated to Saratoga, where he held a council of war to determine whether he should surrender. In the midst of his talk, an eighteen-pound cannon ball passed right over the table where he and his officers sat, so they quickly and wisely concluded that it was high time to give up (1777). The British soldiers, therefore, laid down their arms, and the Americans marched into their camp playing "Yankee Doodle," the tune they had adopted as a national air.

We are told that Burgoyne, on handing Gates his sword in token of surrender, proudly remarked: "The fortune of war, General Gates, has made me your prisoner"; to which Gates answered, as he gave it back: "I shall always be ready to bear testimony that it has not been through any fault of your Excellency." Later on, touched by the courtesy of Schuyler, whose house he had burned down, Burgoyne said: "You show me much kindness, though I have done you much injury." "That was the fate of war," said Schuyler, kindly; "let us say no more about it."

LXXI. THE WINTER AT VALLEY FORGE.

Although Gates received all the credit at first, the two battles of Saratoga were really won by Schuyler, Morgan, and Arnold. Burgoyne's surrender proved the turning point of the Revolutionary War, so the fight at Saratoga is known as one of the decisive battles of the world. Not only did it end the British plan of separating New England from the Southern States, but it made the French promise to help the Americans openly. It also gave King George such a fright that he even offered to let the Americans send members to Parliament, if they would lay down their arms and promise to obey him.

But this offer, which would have more than satisfied the colonists a short time before, came too late. They had suffered so much that they were not willing to give up what they had won and again become subject to a king who, like those who had come before him, might at any time change his mind or break his promises. Besides, they remembered only too clearly that, after granting charters, kings had often taken them away again, and so they decided to keep on fighting until the matter was settled once for all.

The news of the victory at Saratoga created a great sensation in Paris, where the French had been waiting to see how things turned out before they openly sided with the Americans. The king now not only acknowledged the independence of the United Colonies of America (1778), but made a treaty of friendship and commerce with them, and soon sent a fleet to help them fight the British.

This happy turn of affairs was mainly brought about by Franklin, who for the past two years had been making as many friends for America as he could. Every one admired him for his learning and good nature, and the French minister Turgot (tur-go´) once proposed his health, saying: "He snatched a thunderbolt from heaven, and the scepter from the hand of the tyrant!"

But Franklin--who had a keen sense of humor, and, like all really great men, was very modest--smiled, and quaintly answered that while he appreciated the kindness of the speech, he was obliged to confess that not only had he left thunder in the clouds,--just where he had found it,--but that more than one million of his countrymen had helped him snatch the scepter from the hands of the tyrant!

News traveled so slowly in those days that it took months before Franklin heard of Burgoyne's surrender, and before Washington and Howe received word that the French were going to help the colonies openly. These months were full of hardships for all the Americans, for while the men were away fighting, the heroic women were obliged to do their work too.

Washington's army, as we have seen, had encamped at Valley Forge, where the soldiers lived in rude log huts. They were without proper food or clothes, and cowered miserably over camp fires, for which they had to carry wood on their backs from neighboring forests. Even General Washington had but one room, and lived on cabbage and potatoes, with a few hickory nuts for dessert from time to time.

His heart was wrung at the sight of his men's sufferings, and as soon as his wife joined him at Valley Forge, he begged her to work as hard as she could to supply the men with stockings. Mrs. Washington's own knitting needles now flew faster than ever; besides, she interested all her friends in the work, and every day visited the soldiers' quarters, carrying them the stout garments thus secured. But provisions grew so scarce that Washington had to send all the women home, and Mrs. Washington again withdrew to Mount Vernon, where she lived as economically as possible, working day and night for her husband and the army.

As if matters were not bad enough already, some of the officers now formed a plot to take the command away from Washington, and put Gates at the head of the army in his stead. This plot, known as the Conway cabal, was headed by a man named Conway, to whom Washington had been particularly kind, but who was angry because he had not been promoted as fast as he wished.

The question was brought before Congress at Baltimore, where, hearing that there was danger of Washington's being dismissed for lack of a vote, Du´er, one of his friends, although ill in bed, determined to go to the meeting. His doctor, however, said that if he did so it would be at the risk of his life. "Do you mean I should expire before reaching the place?" asked Duer. "No; but I should not answer for your leaving it alive," answered the doctor. Hearing this, the good man firmly said: "Very well, sir; you have done your duty; now I will do mine." Then he called for a litter to carry him to Congress.

Luckily for him, some of Washington's friends came back in time to prevent his leaving his sick room. But better still for the welfare of our country, the Conway plot failed, and Washington remained at the head of the army. Conway had been so ungrateful that he was forced to leave the country, where people despised him for the mean part he had played.

All these trials wrung Washington's noble heart, and as he had no privacy in his headquarters, he sometimes rode out alone to think. A Quaker, hearing a noise in the bushes, once stole up cautiously, and found the general's horse tied to a tree. A few feet farther away, he beheld Washington kneeling in the snow, praying aloud for his country, with great tears streaming down his cheeks. The good Quaker crept away again unseen, but in telling the story some years later, he remarked that he felt at the time that the Lord could not but answer the fervent prayer of so good a man.

LXXII. THE QUAKER WOMAN.

The British quartered in Philadelphia were leading an easy and merry life; but several times during the winter Howe made plans to surprise Washington's troops. To his dismay, however, his plans always seemed known to the Americans, and therefore failed. Afraid that some spy might overhear him, Howe once held a secret meeting at night in the house of a Quaker woman, named Lydia Darrah. To make sure that he should not be overheard, he bade her go to bed, and see that all her family retired likewise.

Lydia obeyed, and the general, thinking all was safe, explained his plan to his officers. But the Quaker woman had noiselessly slipped out of her room again, and was now standing at the door listening to all that was said. As soon as the talk was over she crept back to her room, and when the officers had all gone, Howe called her, as agreed, to lock the door behind him. But she pretended to be sound asleep, and let him knock at her door three times before she rose, yawning, to show him out.

The next day, Lydia, who had not dared breathe a word of what she had heard to any one, said she was out of flour, and got a pass to go and buy some at a village near by. Meeting a patriot there, she quickly warned him of Washington's peril, and then quietly went home.

The next day Howe crossly said to her: "It is very strange; you, I know, were asleep, for I knocked at your door three times before you heard me; yet it is certain we were betrayed. On arriving, we found Washington so prepared at every point that we have been compelled to march back without injuring our enemy, like a parcel of fools." Lydia heard this without making a sign, and not till the war was over did it become known that it was she who had saved the army.

Besides the American patriots, foreigners were helping Washington with all their might. Among these was the Prussian officer, Baron Steuben, who knew no English, and therefore brought over an interpreter with him. According to one story, this interpreter made an idle bet to kiss the first Yankee girl he met. Landing at Portsmouth, this man won his wager by stepping up to a pretty girl, bowing politely, and begging permission to kiss her, saying: "Before leaving my native land to fight for American freedom, I made a vow to ask, in earnest of victory, a kiss from the first lady I should meet." The story adds that the young lady accepted the kiss, saying she could not refuse so small a favor to a man who had come to fight, and if necessary, to die, for her country.

Steuben joined Washington at Valley Forge, and there began to drill the troops, so they could meet the British on an equal footing. At first the German officer was shocked by their lack of discipline, and swore at them in every language he knew; sometimes he even called to his interpreter: "Come and swear for me in English; these fellows will not do what I bid them."

You see, soldiers in those days thought it manly to swear; and as Baron Steuben had been accustomed to European soldiers, who obeyed without a question, it took him some time to grow used to Americans, who, as he said, had to be told, "This is the reason why you ought to do that," before they would obey. Still, he soon taught our men to fight like old and trained soldiers.

The winter the troops spent at Valley Forge was one of the coldest ever seen, and therefore the soldiers' sufferings were very great. But with the spring, hope revived, for the news of the coming French fleet made the British leave Philadelphia to defend New York.

General Howe having gone back to England for his health, it was Clinton who conducted this retreat. Leaving the camp at Valley Forge, Washington pursued him across New Jersey, planning to engage him in a battle at Mon´moŭth (1778).

Here Lee, who had been exchanged for Prescott, and was again in command, disobeyed orders, and bade his men retreat. Warned by Lafayette, Washington came up just in time to check this movement, and, dashing up to Lee, hotly asked what his disobedience meant. Lee answered: "These men cannot face the British grenadiers." But Washington exclaimed: "They can do it, and they shall!" He was right; the men could, and did, face the enemy bravely. But precious time had been lost, and instead of winning a victory, the Americans only managed to stand their ground.

During the battle, Molly Pitcher, a gunner's wife, carrying a pail of water to her husband, saw him fall. She immediately rushed forward, took his place, and, loading his cannon, fired it as quickly and well as he. In reward for filling her husband's place that day, Congress paid her a small pension, and the soldiers, who admired her pluck, ever after called her "Major Molly."

When darkness came on, the fight ceased, and Washington flung himself down to rest. During the night an officer drew softly near, and the general quickly bade him advance and deliver his message, saying: "I lie here to think, and not to sleep." Washington's thoughts were busy, for now he could no longer doubt that Charles Lee was a traitor. Indeed, he foresaw what soon happened--that Lee would be dismissed from the army in disgrace. In fact, Lee, who had tried to harm the American cause, was never allowed to serve his country again, and had to withdraw to Virginia. There he lived a loveless and solitary life, in a house whose only partitions were chalk lines across the floor.

LXXIII. PUTNAM'S ADVENTURES.

On the morrow of the battle of Monmouth, Washington found that Clinton had withdrawn his army so as to avoid a second battle. The British were now well on their way to New York, so Washington could no longer hope to overtake them. To hem them in, however, he stretched a line of American troops all the way from Morristown to West Point.

But Washington had to abandon his plan for seizing New York with the help of the French fleet, because the vessels drew too much water to be able to cross the bar. As the fleet could not reach New York, it made an attempt to seize Newport. Here it was met by British ships; but before a battle could take place, a sudden storm scattered both fleets, and caused so much damage that they had to refit.

When Clinton saw that Washington had drawn a close line about him in New Jersey, he tried to force the American general to break it by attacking the towns in Connecticut. But Washington would not stir, for he knew that General Israel Putnam, in charge of the forces there, was well able to look out for himself. As this Putnam is one of the heroes of the Revolutionary War, it will interest you to hear a few stories about him, which all Americans should know.

We are told that, even as a lad, Putnam was famous for his courage. Once, when a wolf caused great damage in his neighbors' herds, he determined to kill it. But the wolf withdrew into its den, where it could be reached only by crawling along through a narrow passage. As the creature could neither be smoked nor starved out, Putnam offered to go in and kill it. Tying a rope to his foot, he bade his companions pull him out when they felt the rope twitch, or heard a shot. Then he crawled along the passage on his stomach, carefully holding his gun. At the end of a few minutes he came to a place where the passage widened a little, and there, in the darkness, he saw the yellow gleam of the big wolf's eyes! Putnam raised his gun, shot, and was dragged out by his companions in such haste that his clothes were actually torn off his back, and his skin somewhat scraped.

Determined to know whether the old wolf was dead, Putnam, at the end of a few minutes, again crept into the den. When his companions obeyed the twitch of the rope a few minutes later, and drew him out a second time, they thought he was very heavy; but when he got out they found he was dragging by the leg the biggest gray wolf they had ever seen!

Putnam had taken part in the last French and Indian War. The year after the French took and destroyed Fort William Henry, he was with a British army that encamped on the same ground; and when this army advanced to attack Ticonderoga, his company led the way. While they were thus marching through the woods, the French surprised them; and had it not been that Rogers came to their rescue with more men, Putnam and his detachment would have fallen. At another time, we are told, Fort Edward took fire, and the powder magazine was in great danger. But Putnam fought the flames inch by inch, putting them out barely in time to prevent the explosion of the whole store of ammunition.