Though the ranger captain severely underestimated the personal bravery of many of the soldiers guarding the Highlands, it is true enough that the Continental and militia defenses of the area were not all to be desired. To adequately protect the Highlands, as well as wage war in the Jerseys and Ticonderoga, garrison Boston and Philadelphia, shadow Howe in New York — the reader can see by the verbiage alone that it would require an army several times what has ever been amassed by even the largest power on earth. And naturally, numbers alone will not suffice, as soldiers are only as good as their ammunition and supplies allow them to be.
As strategically important as the Highlands are, they had until this point in the war received somewhat scant attention. General Washington sought to correct this situation by installing one of his boldest generals, Benedict Arnold, to head the department. Arnold, because of that wounded pride that has been his Achilles’ heel since the first day of the war, refused. Washington then turned to Old Put, the most experienced soldier of the war, to shore up the defenses and bring in reinforcements.
The task is enormous. At the very moment Jake and Captain Busch began picking their way past berry bushes toward the river, Continental units were marching down double-time from New England to help bolster the defenses. The county militias had been called to alert as well. These last are chronically short of men, having great difficulty raising soldiers.
We will not further interrupt the narrative to describe these problems in detail, nor will we pause to dissect such depressing problems as the small pox epidemic that is sapping the army's strength, for Jake and the captain have reached the edge of a promontory affording a perfect view of the forts across the river — and not quite a clear jump down.
'Is there a path,' asked Jake, after they had slid a short distance between the thick gray rocks, 'or are we catapulting ourselves?'
'We're doing neither. I only want to sketch the general layout of the battlements.' Busch disappeared behind a tree branch, sliding down a small gorge.
Jake hurried after him, half falling, half climbing; he found Busch brushing the dirt from his pants on a small, narrow opening that stood like a platform built on the side of the hill. The view north was cut off by a large rock outcropping, which meant most of the chain could not be seen, but west and south were clearly visible. There were masts off in the distance toward New York — the patriot spy wondered if they were British raiders, waiting for word from Busch.
'We will go down via another route,' said Busch, finishing the thought he had started before slipping. 'I have to scout the area first. Keep guard.' The captain reached into his bag and took out some thick artists' pencils and sketch paper, as if he were about to copy the Pieta at St. Peter's. 'There were rumors that the rebels intended to place a boom here, but I do not see one. Can you? Are they building it by the shore?'
It was difficult to tell exactly what was going on near the far shore, and Jake would not have said even if he could tell. He posted himself a few feet away, his carbine ready — though if some Continental group approached, he planned to train it on Busch, not the patriots.
An old, misshapen elm jutted from the edge of the promontory like an overgrown bristle on a hairbrush. It was easy to climb, and Jake soon had a crow's nest overlooking the near hillside. The only thing patrolling the woods between here and the water seemed to be some hawks and a squirrel or two.
The smoke of various encampments to the east and south wended its way lazily in the light afternoon haze. Peekskill, where General Putnam's headquarters were, lay too far inland for Jake to see from here. Likewise unseen, Continental Village, with its munitions depot and barracks, was located further east over the mountain and a little south of their backs.
They were sitting in a perfect, hidden pocket, as isolated and peaceful as the Garden of Eden. The serenity was so tempting, Jake felt it would be easy to forget he was in the middle of a life and death mission, whose success could determine the outcome of the Revolution.
But even Paradise was disturbed after the Fall, and Jake was shaken from his complacency if not the tree by the echoes of angry shouts and thick gunfire.
Chapter Sixteen
Jake's first instinct was to jump from the tree and seek safer cover. But he quickly realized that the loud volley of musket fire was not only directed toward the river, but had originated nearly a mile away. The sharp, loud crack that made it seem so close was merely a trick of the echo produced by the rock-faced hills surrounding the water.
The patriot spy climbed higher, the tree branches leaning over as he craned southward to get a better view. Busch came running up in the meantime, a pistol in each hand. He put one of the guns down and slid the other into his belt, climbing up after Jake.
From the straining elm, the pair could just make out a small battery of men gathered on the shore to the south, reloading for another volley. But what were they aiming at?
The answer came in the form of a thunderous roar similar to what must have been heard when volcanoes devoured ancient Pompeii. This was followed by a loud whistle, which ended in a tremendous thud, accompanied by a shaking so severe Jake thought an ax blade had struck the tree. A cloud of smoke on the river below the hills pointed the way to the source of the disturbance — it was the Dependence, the murderous galley Busch and his men counted on so highly.
The boat was a peculiar beast. Though double-masted with triangular lateen sails, it strode through the waves on a caterpillars' set of oars. At her bow sat a thick, immense pipe, which erupted with fire and black smoke a second time as Jake watched.
The pipe was a 32-pound cannon. Those unversed in the art of sea warfare will perhaps find a single weapon unimpressive. They should know first that, like land cannon, the rating of the weapon is rendered by the size of the shot it typically fires; a 32-pounder fires 32-pound balls, though it can be loaded with shot and other particularly nasty devices designed to obliterate masts, sails, and limbs. The average 32-pounder weighs perhaps 5,750 pounds, and measures a good ten feet. It is an entire order larger than the 24-pounder, which under the French Valliere system is considered the largest practical caliber for a land gun. The Eagle, the most potent ship in the British American fleet — and the admiral's flagship — could mount her 32-pounders only on the very bottom of the vessel; the massive ship quite shuddered when those guns spoke.
Small wonder the rangers at Stoneman's had compared the galley to a fire-breathing dragon. St. George faced easier foes.
Naturally, the British could not have designed and built such a successful and deadly vessel. The Dependence — then named the Independence — was captured by the perfidious English during their siege of New York. Refitted and manned by British marines as well as seamen, she roamed the lower Hudson at will. Just at this moment, she was raining her shells in the general vicinity of Peekskill, much to the consternation of the local militiamen.
Even though it was too far to see them, the soldiers' affiliation was obvious. They yelled and cursed aloud and fired volley after useless volley, never in unison, wasting their valuable powder and shot.
'Excellent,' said Busch in a hushed whisper. 'We're right on schedule. Major Johnson could not meet us, but his portion of the plan has been put into effect.'
'Do you think he was captured like the corporal?'
' Most likely he'll be waiting for us aboard the Richmond, ' said Busch. 'You probably helped him escape.'
'I'm glad,' said Jake, who would have been happier still had he been able to 'help' Johnson before he'd arranged the operation.
The battle proceeded as if a staged play. The militiamen stopped shooting, finally realizing that their bullets weren't even reaching the river, let alone their target — or perhaps they ran out of powder. The battery at Fort Independence and several across the river had about the same effect. The Dependence, meanwhile, continued to give birth to a series of earth-shaking eruptions. The sounds of disarray and retreat echoed throughout the
