Long Island surrendered, could New York be held? Columbia Heights, where Fort Stirling stood, had been regarded by Lee as the “capital point,” the key of the position. Greene called the Brooklyn front “the pass,” on the possession of which depended the security of the city. Both pass and heights were now in the enemy’s hands, and New York was at their mercy. “We are in hourly expectation,” wrote Commissary Trumbull, September 1st, “that the town will be bombarded.” Lieutenant Jasper Ewing, of Hand’s riflemen, saw that the British could reduce the place to “a heap of ashes” in a day’s time. Colonel Douglas looked for an immediate cannonade from Fort Stirling, “which,” he says, “I have the mortification to think I helped build myself.” But the enemy kept their guns quiet, as they wished neither to injure the city nor drive our army away. They contented themselves at first with stretching their troops along the water front from Red Hook to Hell Gate, Newtown, and Flushing on Long Island, and threatening to land at any point on Manhattan Island from the Battery to Harlem, or beyond on the Westchester shore.

As for Washington, the successful retreat had not in the least relieved him from care or anxiety. He had escaped one trap: it was of the utmost consequence now to see that he did not fall into another. What he feared most was a sudden move upon his rear in Westchester County, for in that case he would be hopelessly hemmed in on Manhattan Island. “The enemy,” continued Trumbull on the 1st, “are drawing their men to the eastward on Long Island, as if they intended to throw a strong party over on this island, near Hell Gate, so as to get on the back of the city. We are preparing to meet them.” Haslet wrote August 31st: “I expect every moment orders to march off to Kingsbridge to prevent the enemy crossing the East River and confining us on another nook.... If they can coop us up in N. York by intrenching from river to river, horrid will be the consequences from their command of the rivers.” General Heath pressed the matter of watching the Westchester coast, and Washington, concurring with him “as to the probability of the enemy’s endeavoring to land their forces at Hunt’s Point,” above Hell Gate, wrote him on the 31st: “In order to prevent such an attempt from being carried into execution I have sent up General Mifflin with the troops he brought from your quarters, strengthened by reinforcements. With this assistance I hope you will be able to defeat their intentions. I beg you will exert yourself to the utmost of your abilities on this momentous occasion.” Several days passing without any demonstration by the enemy, Washington’s suspense was only protracted, and on September 5th he wrote again to Heath as follows:

“As everything in a manner depends upon obtaining intelligence of the enemy’s motions, I do most earnestly entreat you and General Clinton to exert yourselves to accomplish this most desirable end. Leave no stone unturned, nor do not stick at expense to bring this to pass, as I never was more uneasy than on account of my want of knowledge on this score.

“Keep, besides this precaution, constant lookouts (with good glasses) on some commanding heights that look well on to the other shore (and especially into the bays, where boats can be concealed), that they may observe, more particularly in the evening, if there be any uncommon movements. Much will depend upon early intelligence, and meeting the enemy before they can intrench. I should much approve of small harassing parties, stealing, as it were, over in the night, as they might keep the enemy alarmed, and more than probably bring off a prisoner, from whom some valuable intelligence may be obtained."

To add to his burdens, the commander-in-chief found the condition of his army growing worse instead of improving. The experiences on Long Island had disheartened many of the troops, and their escape had not revived their spirits. The militia became impatient and went home in groups and whole companies, and indeed in such numbers as to materially diminish the strength of the army. To restore order and confidence, Washington exerted himself to the utmost. Tilghman, one of his aids, speaks of “the vast hurry of business” in which the general was engaged at this time. “He is obliged,” he writes, “to see into, and in a manner fill every department, which is too much for one man.” To Rodney, Haslet wrote: “I fear Genl Washington has too heavy a task, assisted mostly by beardless boys." But fortunately for the country the general’s shoulders were broad enough for these great duties, and his faith and resolution remained unshaken.

As soon as possible the army was reorganized and stationed to meet the new phase of the situation. Several changes were made in the brigades, and the whole divided into three grand divisions, under Putnam, Spencer, and Heath. Putnam’s, consisting of five brigades, remained in the city and guarded the East River above as far as Fifteenth Street; Spencer’s, of six brigades, took up the line from that point to Horn’s Hook and Harlem; and Heath with two brigades watched King’s Bridge and the Westchester shore. Greene had not sufficiently recovered from his illness, and his old troops, under Nixon and Heard, were temporarily doing duty with Spencer’s command. This disposition was effected by the 2d of September, and by it our army again occupied an extended line, endeavoring to protect every point on the east side from the battery to King’s Bridge, or the entire length of the island, a distance of fourteen and a half miles.

The question of abandoning New York and all that part of the island below Harlem Heights was, meanwhile, under consideration. The city would obviously be untenable under a bombardment, and the island equally so if the British crossed into Westchester County. Yet Washington, strangely, we may say, expressed the conviction that he could hold both provided his troops could be depended upon. Among his generals, Greene earnestly opposed any such attempt, and advocated the evacuation and destruction of the place. “The City and Island of New York,” he wrote to his chief, September 5th, “are no objects for us; we are not to bring them into competition with the general interests of America.... The sacrifice of the vast property of New York and the suburbs, I hope has no influence on your Excellency’s measures. Remember the King of France. When Charles the Fifth, Emperor of Germany, invaded his Kingdom, he laid whole Provinces waste; and by that policy he starved and ruined Charles’s army, and defeated him without fighting a battle. Two-thirds of the property of the City of New York and the suburbs belong to the tories. We have no very great reason to run any considerable risk for its defence.... I would give it as my opinion that a general and speedy retreat is absolutely necessary, and that the honour and interest of America require it. I would burn the city.” John Jay before this also proposed its destruction. Scott urged abandonment of the place for sound military reasons, though the move would ruin him. Washington, however, on the 2d, presented the whole question to Congress. Also convinced by the condition of the army, that the city must be evacuated, he asked, “If we should be obliged to abandon the town, ought it to stand as winter quarters for the enemy?” Congress voted, in reply, that “it should in no event be damaged, for they had no doubt of being able to recover it, even though the enemy should obtain possession of it for a time.” On the 7th, a council of war, inferring that Congress wished the place to be held, decided to retain five thousand troops in the city and concentrate the rest around and above Harlem; but on the 12th the matter was reconsidered, and a second council voted to evacuate the city and retire to Harlem Heights. The removal of stores and the sick had already commenced; and on the 14th, when the enemy appeared to be on the point of crossing from Montressor’s, now Randall’s, Island to the mainland, all the teams and wagons that could be found were impressed by the quartermasters to remove the remaining stores. In one day more the removal would have been complete and the troops all withdrawn to the heights. In the evening of the 14th Washington left the city, and established his headquarters at the Morris Mansion, at One Hundred and Sixty-first Street, overlooking Harlem River and the plains.

The enemy made no advance from Long Island until more than two weeks after the battle. Howe’s preparations were delayed because dependent upon the co-operation of the fleet. On the night of the 3d of September, the frigate Rose, of thirty-two guns, sailed up the East River convoying thirty boats, and running through the fire of our guns at the Grand Battery, the ship-yards, and Corlears Hook, anchored close into Wallabout Bay, where on the 5th our artillerists “briskly cannonaded” her. After dark on the 12th, thirty-six additional boats passed our batteries to Bushwick Creek, and the night after forty more followed. Then towards sunset on the 14th, the frigates Roebuck, Phoenix, Orpheus, and Carysfort, with six transports, joined the Rose without receiving material injury from the heavy fire poured upon them by our gunners.

On the following morning, the 15th, the British moved against Manhattan Island, and in the afternoon New York City fell into their possession. What occurred beforehand during the day is known as the “Kip’s Bay affair."

Kip’s Bay was the large cove which then set in from the East River at about the foot of Thirty-fourth Street. It took its name from the old Kip family, who owned the adjacent estate. From this point breastworks had been thrown up along the river’s bank, wherever a landing could be made, down as far as Corlears Hook or Grand Street. Five brigades had been distributed at this front to watch the enemy. Silliman’s was in the city; at Corlears Hook was Parsons’ brigade, to which Prescott’s Massachusetts men had now been added; beyond, in the vicinity of Fifteenth Street, on the Stuyvesant estate, Scott’s New York brigade took post; above him, at about Twenty-third Street, was Wadsworth’s command, consisting of Sage’s, Selden’s, and Gay’s Connecticut levies; and further along near Kip’s Bay was Colonel Douglas, with his brigade of three Connecticut militia regiments under Cooke, Pettibone, and Talcott, and his own battalion of levies. Up the river a chain of sentinels communicated with the troops at Horn’s Hook, and every half hour they passed the watchword to each other, “All is well.”

Very early on the morning of the 15th, which was Sunday, the five British frigates which had anchored under the Long Island shore sailed up and took position close within musket-shot of our lines at Kip’s Bay, somewhat to the left of Douglas. This officer immediately moved his brigade abreast of them. The ships were so near, says Martin, one of Douglas’ soldiers, that he could distinctly read the name of the Phoenix, which was lying “a little quartering.” Meanwhile, on the opposite shore, in Newtown Creek, the British embarked their light infantry and reserves, and Donop’s grenadiers and yagers, all under Clinton and Cornwallis, in eighty-four boats, and drew up in regular order on the water ready to cross to the New York side. The soldier just quoted remembered that they looked like “a large clover field in full bloom.” All along the line our soldiers were watching these movements with anxious curiosity that night they would have been withdrawn from the position when suddenly between ten and eleven o’clock the five frigates opened a sweeping fire from their seventy or eighty guns upon the breastworks where Douglas and his brigade were drawn up. It came like “a peal of thunder,” and the militiamen could do nothing but keep well under cover. The enemy fired at them at their pleasure, from “their tops and everywhere,” until our men soon found it impossible to stay in that position. “We kept the lines,” says Martin, “till they were almost levelled upon us, when our officers, seeing we could make no resistance, and no orders coming from any superior officer, and that we must soon be entirely exposed to the rake of the guns, gave the order to leave.” At the same time the flotilla crossed the river, and getting under cover of the smoke of the ships’ guns, struck off to the left of Douglas, where the troops effected a landing without difficulty. Howe says: “The fire of the shipping being so well directed and so incessant, the enemy could not remain in their works, and the descent was made without the least opposition.” The ordeal the militia were subjected to was something which in similar circumstances veteran troops have been unable to withstand. Retreating from the lines, Douglas’s men scattered to the rear towards the Post Road, and the enemy who landed and formed rapidly were soon after them. Douglas himself, who was an excellent officer, was the last to leave, and all but escaped capture. There was no collecting the brigade, however, in any new position in the field, for the thought of being intercepted had created a panic among the militia, and they fled in confusion.

When the cannonade at Kip’s Bay began, Washington was four miles distant, at Harlem. At the first sound of the guns he mounted his horse and rode with all possible despatch to the scene. At about the same time, General Parsons, probably by Putnam’s order, directed Prescott’s, Tyler’s, and the remnant of Huntington’s regiment, not over eighty strong, to march immediately to the assistance of the troops where the enemy were landing. Fellows’ brigade was also ordered along for the same purpose.

At about the corner of the present Thirty-sixth Street and Fourth Avenue stood at that time the residence of Robert Murray, the Quaker merchant, on what was known as “Inclenberg” heights, now Murray Hill. His grounds extended to the Post Road, which there ran along the line of Lexington Avenue. Just above him a cross-road connected the Post and Bloomingdale roads, which is represented to-day by the line of Forty-second and Forty-third streets. On the south side of the cross-road where it intersected the Post Road was a large corn-field adjoining or belonging to Murray’s estate. When Washington reached this vicinity he found the militia retreating in disorder along both the cross and the Post roads, and Fellows’ brigade just coming on to the field. The general, with Putnam and others, was then on the rising ground in the vicinity of the present Forty-second Street reservoir. In a very short time Parsons and his regiments arrived by the Bloomingdale Road, and Washington in person directed them to form along the line of the Post Road in front of the enemy, who were rapidly advancing from Kip’s Bay. “Take the walls!” “Take the corn-field!” he shouted; and Parsons’ men quickly ran to the walls and the field, but in a confused and disordered manner. Their general did his best to get them into line on the ground, but found it impossible, they were so dispersed, and, moreover, they were now beginning to retreat. The panic which had seized the Connecticut militia was communicated to Fellows’ Massachusetts men, who were also militia; and now it was to sweep up Parsons’ Continentals, including Prescott’s men of Bunker Hill. The latter brigade had been brought on to the ground in bad shape through the fugitive militiamen, and when the British light infantry appeared they broke and retreated with the rest.

To Washington all this confusion and rout seemed wholly unnecessary and unreasonable, and dashing in among the flying crowds he endeavored to convince them that there was no danger, and used his utmost exertions to bring them into some order. He was roused to more than indignation at the sight, and in his letter to Congress on the following day denounced the conduct of these troops as “disgraceful and dastardly." Putnam, Parsons, Fellows, and others were equally active in attempting to stop the flight, but it was to no purpose. “The very demons of fear and disorder,” says Martin, “seemed to take full possession of all and everything on that day.” Nothing remained but to continue the retreat by the Bloomingdale Road to Harlem Heights.

During these scenes, Wadsworth’s and Scott’s brigades, which were below Douglas on the river lines, saw that their only safety lay, also, in immediate retreat, and falling back, they joined the other brigades above, though not without suffering some loss. The parties now in the greatest danger were Silliman’s brigade and Knox with detachments of the artillery, who were still in the city three miles below. When Putnam, to whose division they belonged, found that no stand could be made at Kip’s Bay or Murray’s Hill, he galloped down through Wadsworth’s and Scott’s retreating troops, to extricate Silliman and the others. Not a moment’s time was to be lost, for should the British stretch out their troops west of the Bloomingdale Road to the North River, escape would be impossible. Silliman, meanwhile, had taken post with Knox in and to the right of Bayard’s Hill Fort, from the top of which they could see the enemy occupying the island above them. At this juncture, Major Aaron Burr, Putnam’s aid, rode up to the fort with orders to retreat. He was told that retreat was out of the question. Knox said that he should defend the fort to the last. But Burr, who knew the ground thoroughly, declared that he could pilot them safely to the upper end of the island, and Silliman’s men set out for the attempt. Putnam also had called in other guards, and the entire force then took to the woods above Greenwich, on the west side, and keeping under cover wherever it was possible, made their way along without opposition. But it proved to be a most trying and hazardous march. The day was “insupportably hot;” more than one soldier died at the spring or brook where he drank; any moment the enemy, who at some points were not half a mile away, might be upon them. Officers rode in advance and to the right to reconnoitre and see that the way was clear. Putnam, Silliman, Burr, and others were conspicuous in their exertions. Silliman was “sometimes in the front, sometimes in the centre, and sometimes in the rear.” The men extended along in the woods for two miles, and the greatest precautions were necessary to keep them out of sight of the main road. Putnam encouraged them continually by flying on his horse, covered with foam, wherever his presence was most necessary. “Without his extraordinary exertions,” says Colonel Humphreys, who frequently saw Putnam that day, “the guards must have been inevitably lost, and it is probable the entire corps would have been cut in pieces.” Much, too, of the success of the march was due to Burr’s skill and knowledge. Near Bloomingdale, the command fell in with a party of the British, when Silliman formed three hundred of his men and beat them off. After making a winding march of at least “twelve miles,” these greatly distressed troops finally reached Harlem Heights after dark, to the surprise and relief of the other brigades, who had given them up for lost.

Although skilfully conducted, this escape is to be referred, in reality, to Howe’s supineness and the hospitality of Mrs. Robert Murray, at whose house the British generals stopped for rest and refreshment after driving back our troops. Instead of continuing a vigorous pursuit or making any effort to intercept other parties, they spent a valuable interval at the board of their entertaining hostess, whose American sympathies added flavor and piquancy to the conversation. “Mrs. Murray,” says Dr. Thacher in his military journal, “treated them with cake and wine, and they were induced to tarry two hours or more, Governor Tryon frequently joking her about her American friends. By this happy incident, General Putnam, by continuing his march, escaped a rencounter with a greatly superior force, which must have proved fatal to his whole party. Ten minutes, it is said, would have been sufficient for the enemy to have secured the road at the turn and entirely cut off General Putnam’s retreat. It has since become almost a common saying among our officers, that Mrs. Murray saved this part of the American army.”

Of the Kip’s Bay affair there is but one criticism to be made it was an ungovernable panic. Beginning with a retreat from the water-line, it grew into a fright and a run for safer ground. Panics are often inexplicable. The best troops as well as the poorest have been known to fly from the merest shadow of danger. In this case, so far as the beginning of the rout is concerned, probably the militiamen did no worse than Washington’s best men would have done. A retreat from the ship’s fire could not have been avoided, though, with better troops, the subsequent rout could have been checked and the enemy retarded.

The incident was especially unfortunate at that time, as it served to increase existing jealousies between the troops from the different States, and so far impair the morale of the army. It excites a smile to-day to read that men from New York, Pennsylvania, and Maryland charged New Englanders generally with provincialism and cowardice, and that the charge was resented; but such was the fact. The feeling between them grew to such an extent that Washington was obliged to issue orders condemning its indulgence. The Kip’s Bay panic offered a favorable opportunity for emphasizing these charges, and the Connecticut and Massachusetts runaways came in for their full share of uncomplimentary epithets. The Connecticut men were remembered particularly, “dastards” and “cowards” being the terms which greeted their ears. All this of course could not but be ruinous to the discipline of the army, and it was an alarming fact to be dealt with. The men south of New England were not without reason in making their harsh criticisms, for many of the New England regiments, the militia in particular, came upon the ground with an inferior military organization. They were miserably officered in many cases, and the men, never expecting to become soldiers as such, were indifferent to discipline. But in another view the criticisms were unfair, because the Pennsylvanians and others, in making comparisons, compared their best troops with New England’s poorest. As two thirds of the army were from New England more than one third from Connecticut men from this section were necessarily represented largely in every duty or piece of fighting, and whenever any misconduct of a few occurred, it was made to reflect discredit upon the whole. There was no difference between the better drilled and officered regiments from the several States, just as there was little difference between their hastily gathered militia. Thus it may be mentioned as a notable and somewhat humorous coincidence that at the very moment the Connecticut militia were flying from the bombardment of the ships at Kip’s Bay, New Jersey and Pennsylvania militia were flying with equal haste from the bombardment of other ships at Powle’s Hook as they sailed up the North River to Bloomingdale on the same morning; and that while Reed, Tilghman, Smallwood, and others, were denouncing the Kip’s Bay fugitives in unmeasured terms, the indignant Mercer was likewise denouncing the “scandalous” behavior of the fugitives in his own command.

The events of the 15th naturally and justly roused the wrath of both Washington and Mercer, and their denunciations become a part of the record of the time. But in recording them it belongs to those who write a century later to explain and qualify. Justice to the men who figured in these scenes requires that the terms of reproach should not be perpetuated as a final stigma upon their character as soldiers of the Revolution. All military experience proves that troops who have once given way in a panic are not therefore or necessarily poor troops; and the experience at Kip’s Bay and Powle’s Hook was only an illustration in the proof. These men had their revenge. If the records of New Jersey and Pennsylvania were to be thoroughly examined, they would doubtless show that large numbers of Mercer’s militia re-entered the service and acquitted themselves well. This is certainly true of many of the routed crowd whom Washington found it impossible to rally on Murray’s Hill and in Murray’s corn-field. Some of those who ran from the Light Infantry on the 15th assisted in driving the same Light Infantry on the 16th. Prescott’s men a few weeks later successfully defended a crossing in Westchester County and thwarted the enemy’s designs. Not a few of the militia in Douglas’s brigade were the identical men with whom Oliver Wolcott marched up to meet Burgoyne a year later, and who, under Colonels Cook and Latimer, “threw away their lives” in the decisive action of that campaign, suffering a greater loss than any other two regiments on the field. Fellows, also, was there to co-operate in forcing the British surrender. In Parsons’ brigade were young officers and soldiers who formed part of the select corps that stormed Stony Point, and among Wadsworth’s troops were others who, five years later, charged upon the Yorktown redoubt with the leading American Light Infantry battalion.

When Washington found that the enemy had made their principal landing at Thirty-fourth Street, and that a retreat was necessary, he sent back word to have Harlem Heights well secured by the troops there, while at the same time a considerable force under Mifflin marched down to the strong ground near McGowan’s to cover the escape of troops that might take the King’s Bridge road. Chester and Sargent evacuated Horn’s Hook and came in with Mifflin. Upon the landing of more troops at Kip’s Bay, Howe sent a column towards McGowan’s, and in the evening the Light Infantry reached Apthorpe’s just after Silliman’s retreat. Washington had waited on the Bloomingdale Road until the last, and retired from the Apthorpe Mansion but a short time before the British occupied it. Here at Bloomingdale the enemy encamped their left wing for the night, while their right occupied Horn’s Hook, their outposts not being advanced on the left beyond One Hundredth Street. The Americans slept on Harlem Heights, not quite a mile and a half above them.

“That night,” says Humphreys, “our soldiers, excessively fatigued by the sultry march of the day, their clothes wet by a severe shower of rain that succeeded towards the evening, their blood chilled by the cold wind that produced a sudden change in the temperature of the air, and their hearts sunk within them by the loss of baggage, artillery, and works, in which they had been taught to put great confidence, lay upon their arms, covered only by the clouds of an uncomfortable sky."

During the day, meantime, the British occupied the city. After the departure of the last troops under Silliman (Knox with others escaping to Powle’s Hook by boats) a white flag was displayed on Bayard’s Hill Redoubt by citizens, and in the afternoon a detachment from the fleet first took possession. In the evening a brigade from Howe’s force encamped along the outer line of works. The next forenoon, the 16th, “the first of the English troops came to town,” under General Robertson, and were drawn up in two lines on Broadway. Governor Tryon was present with officers of rank and a great concourse of people. “Joy and gladness seemed to appear in all countenances;” while the first act of the victors was to identify and confiscate every house owned and deserted by the rebels. “And thus,” says the now happy loyalist pastor Shewkirk, “the city was delivered from those Usurpers who had oppressed it so long.”

Fortunately, the demoralizing effect of the panic of the 15th was to be merely temporary. Indeed, before the details of the affair had time to circulate through the camps and work further discouragement or depression, there occurred another encounter with the enemy on the following morning, which neutralized the disgrace of the previous day and revived the spirits of our army to an astonishing degree. So much importance was attached to it at the time as being a greatly needed stimulant for the American soldier that it becomes of interest to follow its particulars. It has passed into our history as the affair or

BATTLE OF HARLEM HEIGHTS.

Never for a moment relaxing his watch over the enemy’s movements, Washington, before daylight on the morning of the 16th, ordered a reconnoitring party out to ascertain the exact position of the British. The party consisted of the detachment of “Rangers," or volunteers from the New England regiments, which had been organized for scouting service since the battle of Long Island, and placed under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas Knowlton, of Connecticut. No better man could have been found in the army to head such a corps, for he had proved his courage at Bunker Hill, and on more than one occasion since had shown his capacity for leadership. The detachment started out, not more than one hundred and twenty strong, and passing over to the Bloomingdale heights, marched for the Bloomingdale Road, where the enemy were last seen the night before.

The ground which Knowlton reconnoitred and which became the scene of the action remains to-day unchanged in its principal features. What was then known as Harlem Heights is that section of the island which rises prominently from the plain west of Eighth Avenue and north of One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street. Its southern face extended from an abrupt point, called “Point of Rocks,” at One Hundred and Twenty-sixth Street, east of Ninth Avenue, northwesterly to the Hudson, a distance of three quarters of a mile. At the foot of these heights lay a vale or “hollow way,” through the centre of which now runs Manhattan Street, and opposite, at distances varying from a quarter to a third of a mile, rose another line of bluffs and slopes parallel to Harlem Heights. This lower elevation stood mainly in the Bloomingdale division of the city’s out-ward, and is generally known to-day as Bloomingdale Heights. In 1776 there were two farms on these heights, owned and occupied by Adrian Hogeland and Benjamin Vandewater, which were partly cultivated, but mainly covered with woods. The Bloomingdale Road, as stated in a previous chapter, terminated at Hogeland’s lands about One Hundred and Eighth or Tenth streets, and from there a lane or road ran easterly by Vandewater’s and joined the King’s Bridge road near One Hundred and Twentieth Street. East of the Bloomingdale and south of Harlem Heights stretched the tract of level land called Harlem Plains.

After the retreat of the 15th, Washington’s army encamped on Harlem Heights, with their pickets lining the southern slope from Point of Rocks to the Hudson. The British, as we have seen, lay at Bloomingdale and across the upper part of Central Park to Horn’s Hook. An enemy, posted at the lower boundary of Harlem Plains, around McGowan’s Pass, where the ground again rises at the northern end of the Park, might be easily observed from the Point of Rocks, and any advance from that quarter could be reported at once. Nothing, however, could be seen of movements made on the Bloomingdale Road or Heights, and it was in that direction that the “Rangers” now proceeded to reconnoitre at dawn on the 16th.

Knowlton, marching under cover of the woods, soon came upon the enemy’s pickets, somewhere, it would appear, between Hogeland’s and Apthorpe’s houses on the Bloomingdale Road, more than a mile below the American lines. This was the encampment of the Light Infantry, and their Second and Third Battalions, supported by the Forty-second Highlanders, were immediately pushed forward to drive back this party of rebels who had dared to attack them on their own ground. Anticipating some such move, Knowlton had already posted his men behind a stone wall, and when the British advanced he met them with a vigorous fire. His men fired eight or nine rounds a piece with good effect, when the enemy threatened to turn his flanks, and he ordered a retreat, which was well conducted. In this brief encounter the Rangers lost about ten of their number, and believed that they inflicted much more than this loss upon the Infantry.

At his headquarters in the Morris Mansion, Washington, meantime, was writing his despatches to Congress. The unwelcome duty fell to him to report the scenes of the previous day which had so deeply stirred his indignation. He made a plain statement of the facts, described the retreat from New York, acknowledged the loss of baggage and cannon, and despondently expressed his misgivings as to the soldierly qualities of a majority of his troops. “We are now,” he wrote, “encamped with the main body of the army on the Heights of Harlem, where I should hope the enemy would meet with a defeat in case of an attack, if the generality of our troops would behave with tolerable bravery. But experience, to my extreme affliction, has convinced me that this is rather to be wished for than expected. However, I trust that there are many who will act like men, and show themselves worthy of the blessings of freedom.” Not unfounded was this trust, for at the very time the commander-in-chief was writing the words, the Rangers were bravely fighting in the Bloomingdale Woods, and many others soon after, including one of the very regiments which fled from Kip’s Bay twenty-four hours before, were likewise to act “like men” and prove their real worth in the open field. Just as the letters were sent off word came in to headquarters that the enemy had appeared in several large bodies upon the plains, and Washington rode down to the picket-posts to make the necessary dispositions in case of an attack. Adjutant-General Reed and Lieutenant Tilghman, who had also been writing private letters describing Sunday’s panic, and other members of the staff, went to the front about the same time. Knowlton’s men had not yet come in, and their fire was distinctly heard from the Point of Rocks, where the commander-in-chief was now surveying the situation. Anxious to learn whether the British were approaching in force on the Bloomingdale Heights, no attack being threatened from the plains, Colonel Reed received permission to go “down to our most advanced guard,” namely, to the Rangers, whom he found making a momentary halt on their retreat. The enemy soon came up again in large numbers, and the Rangers continued to retire. Colonel Reed, describing his experience at this point, states that the British advanced so rapidly that he had not quitted a house (which may have been Vandewater’s) five minutes before they were in possession of it. “Finding how things were going,” to use Reed’s words, he returned to Washington “to get some support for the brave fellows who had behaved so well.” Knowlton, however, fell back to our lines, and the enemy halted in their pursuit on the north-east edge of Bloomingdale Heights, opposite the Point of Rocks, where a part of them appeared in open sight, and “in the most insulting manner” sounded their bugle-horns as if on a fox chase. “I never felt such a sensation before,” says Reed; “it seemed to crown our disgrace.” But the chase was not yet over.

Learning from Knowlton that the British Infantry who had followed him in were about three hundred strong, and knowing that they were some distance from their main army, Washington determined, if possible, to effect their capture. Knowlton’s men, who had done nobly, were ready for another brush, and there were troops at hand who could be depended upon to behave well under any circumstances. The opportunity for a brisk and successful skirmish presented itself, and the general proposed to improve it. Accordingly he formed the plan of engaging the enemy’s attention in their front, while a flanking party should attempt to get into their rear and cut off their escape. The troops that were stationed nearest to the Point of Rocks at this time appear to have been Nixon’s brigade, of Greene’s division, Weedon’s newly arrived regiment of Virginians, General Beall’s Marylanders, Colonel Sargent’s eastern brigade, Clinton’s and Scott’s brigades, and other regiments belonging to Putnam’s and Spencer’s divisions. For the flanking detachment, the general selected Knowlton’s Rangers, to whom he added a reinforcement of three of the Virginia companies, about one hundred and twenty men, under Major Andrew Leitch. These were directed to make their way or “steal around” to the rear of the enemy by their right flank. To make a demonstration against the enemy in their front, while the flanking party effected its object, a detachment of volunteers was organized from Nixon’s brigade, under Lieutenant-Colonel Archibald Crary, of Varnum’s Rhode Islanders, who marched down into the “hollow way” directly towards the British on the opposite ridge. As Washington hoped, this move had the desired effect. The British, seeing so small a party coming out against them, immediately ran down the rocky hill into an open field, where they took post behind some bushes and a rail fence that extended from the hill to the post road about four hundred yards in front of the Point of Rocks. This field was part of the old Kortwright farm, lying just west of the present Harlem Lane, above One Hundred and Eighteenth Street, in which the line of that fence had been established for more than half a century before this engagement, and where it remained the same for more than half a century after. It is possible to-day to fix its exact position, for the march of modern improvements has not yet disturbed the site.

In order to keep the enemy engaged at that point, Crary’s party opened fire at long range, to which the British replied, but not much execution was done on either side. Meanwhile Knowlton and Leitch moved out to get in the rear. Colonel Reed accompanied the party, and as he had been over the ground he undertook the lead, with the Virginians in advance. It was probably his intention to march down under cover of the bushes, cross the Kortwright farm unobserved some little distance below the enemy, and reach the top of the Bloomingdale ridge before they were discovered. Once there, the British would be effectually hemmed in. Unfortunately, however, some “inferior officers,” as it would appear, gave unauthorized directions to the flanking party; or the party forming the “feint” in front pushed on too soon, in consequence of which Leitch and Knowlton made their attack rather on the British flank than in their rear. The latter now finding a retreat necessary, left the fence and started back up the hill which they had descended. Our men quickly followed, Crary in front, Knowlton and Leitch on the left, and with the Virginians leading, joined in the pursuit with splendid spirit and animation. They rushed up the slope, on about the line of One Hundred and Twentieth Street, and, climbing over the rocks, poured in their volleys upon the running Light Infantry.

It was right here, now, just on the crest of the ridge, and when our gallant advance was turning the tide against the enemy, that we suffered the loss of those two noble leaders whose memory is linked with this day’s action. In a very short time after the first rush, Leitch was severely wounded not far from Reed, having received three balls in his side in as many minutes; and in less than ten minutes after a bullet pierced Knowlton’s body, and he too fell mortally wounded. We can identify the spot where the fall of these brave officers occurred as on the summit of the Bloomingdale Heights below One Hundred and Nineteenth Street, and about half way between the line of Ninth and Tenth Avenues. The site is included within the limits of the proposed “Morningside Park,” which will thus have added to its natural attractiveness a never-fading historical association.

Leitch was borne to the rear to be tenderly cared for until his death at a later day. In after years the Government remembered his services by granting his widow a generous pension. Knowlton met his fate with a soldier’s fortitude and a patriot’s devotion. “My poor Colonel,” writes an officer of the Rangers, who without doubt was Captain Stephen Brown, next in rank to Knowlton, “my poor Colonel, in the second attack, was shot just by my side. The ball entered the small of his back. I took hold of him, asked him if he was badly wounded? He told me he was; but says he, ’I do not value my life if we do but get the day.’ I then ordered two men to carry him off. He desired me by all means to keep up this flank. He seemed as unconcerned and calm as tho’ nothing had happened to him.” Reed, on whose horse the colonel was carried to the lines, wrote to his wife on the following day: “Our loss is also considerable. The Virginia Major (Leitch) who went up first with me was wounded with three shot in less than three minutes; but our greatest loss was a brave officer from Connecticut, whose name and spirit ought to be immortalized one Colonel Knowlton. I assisted him off, and when gasping in the agonies of death, all his inquiry was if we had drove the enemy.” Washington spoke of him in his letters and orders as “a valuable and gallant officer,” who would have been “an honor to any country.”

Meanwhile the Rangers and Virginians kept up their attack under their captains, and Washington, finding that the entire party needed support, sent forward three of the Maryland Independent companies, under Major Price, and parts of Griffith’s and Richardson’s Maryland Flying Camp. At the same time, as Washington reports, some detachments from the Eastern regiments who were nearest the place of action, which included most of Nixon’s and Sargent’s brigades, Colonel Douglas’s Connecticut levies, and a few others, were ordered into the field. Our total force engaged at this time, now about noon, was not far from eighteen hundred strong, and very soon a considerable battle was in progress. Besides Reed and other members of Washington’s staff, Generals Putnam, Greene, and George Clinton accompanied the detachments, and encouraged the men by individual examples of bravery. The troops now “charged the enemy with great intrepidity,” and drove them from the crest of the heights back in a south-westerly direction through a piece of woods to a buckwheat field, about four hundred paces, as General Clinton describes it, from the ridge, or just east of the present Bloomingdale Asylum, where the Light Infantry, now reinforced by the Forty-second Highlanders, finally made a stand. The distance the latter troops had advanced and the sound of the firing had evidently warned Howe, at his headquarters at Apthorpe’s, that they needed immediate assistance, and he promptly ordered forward the reserve with two field-pieces, together with the Yagers and Linsingen’s grenadiers of Donop’s corps. The field-pieces and Yagers came into action at the buckwheat field, and here a stubborn contest ensued for about an hour and a half. But our troops pressed the enemy so hard at this point, and the Highlanders and Yagers having fired away their ammunition, the latter all again fell back, and the Americans pursued them vigorously to an orchard a short distance below, in the direction of the Bloomingdale Road. Here had been hard fighting in the open field, and the best British troops were beaten! At the orchard the result was the same, the enemy making little resistance, their fire “being silenced in a great measure,” and the chase continued down one of the slight hills on Hogeland’s lands and up another, near or quite to the terminus of the Bloomingdale Road. Beyond this third position our troops were not allowed to follow the enemy, whose main encampment was not far distant. The Fifth Regiment of Foot had been trotted up “about three miles without a halt to draw breath,” reaching the ground at the close of the action. Linsingen’s grenadiers appeared about the same time, while Block’s and Minegerode’s men were sent to McGowan’s Pass, which had not yet been occupied. A large body of the enemy were put under arms, and within their camp every preparation was made for a general engagement; but this, above all things, Washington wished to avoid, and, quite content with the brilliant success of his troops thus far, he despatched Lieutenant Tilghman to the front to bring them off. Before turning from the field they had won so gloriously, they answered the bugle blast of the morning with a cheer of victory, and marched back in good order.

This affair, as Washington wrote to Schuyler, “inspirited our troops prodigiously.” The next day the general most heartily thanked the men “commanded by Major Leitch, who first advanced upon the enemy, and the others who so resolutely supported them;” and once more he called upon all to act up to the noble cause in which they were engaged.

The British loss, according to Howe, was fourteen killed and about seventy wounded, but Baurmeister puts it much higher seventy killed and two hundred wounded. The Americans lost not far from eighty, of whom at least twenty-five were killed or mortally wounded. The loss in officers, besides Knowlton and Leitch, included Captain Gleason, of Nixon’s Massachusetts, and Lieutenant Noel Allen, of Varnum’s Rhode Island, both of whom were killed. Captain Lowe, of Ewing’s Marylanders, was wounded, also Captain Gooch, of Varnum’s, slightly. The heaviest loss fell upon Nixon’s and Sargent’s brigades, namely: Nixon’s regiment, four killed; Varnum’s, four; Hitchcock’s, four; Sargent’s, one; Bailey’s, five, and two mortally wounded. Colonel Douglas lost three killed. Among the Marylanders there were twelve wounded and three missing. The loss in the Virginia detachment and the Rangers does not appear. General Clinton on the next day buried seventeen of our men on the field, and reported over fifty wounded. Lieutenant-Colonel Henshaw, of Little’s regiment, simply writes to his wife in regard to the action, “I was there,” and adds that our loss was one hundred. He puts the casualties in his brigade alone [Nixon’s] at seventy-five. All the troops behaved well. Greene speaks with pride of the conduct of his Rhode Islanders, Varnum’s and Hitchcock’s. Captain Gooch wrote to a friend enthusiastically, “The New England men have gained the first Laurells;” while Tilghman wrote with equal enthusiasm, “The Virginia and Maryland troops bear the Palm.” In reality, palm and laurel belonged to both alike.

Knowlton, on the 17th, was buried with the honors of war near the road on the hill slope, not far from the line of One Hundred and Forty-third Street, west of Ninth Avenue. Leitch died on the 1st of October, and is said to have been buried by Knowlton’s side, where Major Thomas Henly, a Massachusetts officer, killed on Montressor’s Island on September 23d, was also buried. On the 22d, Captain Nathan Hale, “the martyr-spy,” was executed in New York. Finding Washington anxious to have information of the enemy’s numbers and designs, Hale volunteered to enter their camp in disguise. Captured at the last moment as he was on the point of escape, he frankly avowed his mission, and just before his execution, on the Rutgers farm, he told the spectators around him that he only regretted he had but one life to give for his country. The war saw no more courageous or unselfish sacrifice. Few worthier of a monument than he!

The battle of the 16th was followed by inactivity on the part of the British, and Washington securely established himself on Harlem Heights. The chief excitement was the occurrence of the great fire on the night of the 21st of September, which broke out near Whitehall Slip, in New York, and destroyed a fourth of the city. In addition to accounts of the calamity already published and generally familiar, the experiences of Pastor Shewkirk, as given in his diary in the present work, will be read with interest.