Valley Forge (33 page)

"The same might equally be said of you, General," Proudfoot pointed out. "Nobody at Valley Forge works as hard as you."

"Is true," agreed Lafayette. "Even you must rest."

Washington shook his head. "When there is so much to do?" he said. "I have no time for leisure. Someone has to keep shouting at Congress or they will forget that we are here."

"The way we've been neglected is deplorable," said Proudfoot. "If it were not for the generosity of people like the marquis, who have paid out of their own pockets for food, clothing, and blankets for the men, our situation would be desperate."

"The Board of War, it has let us down," said Lafayette.

"Badly."

"Do they want us to
lose?
"

"I sometimes think so," said Proudfoot with passion. "If this war has taught me nothing else, it's taught me to despise politicians. They not only do all they can to hamper the army, they even have the gall to criticize its commander in chief." Fearing that he had spoken out of turn, he glanced at Lafayette. "Excuse me. I didn't mean that."

"No, no," insisted Washington. "Do go on, Ezekiel. I have no secrets from the marquis. It might interest you to know that he was approached by Thomas Conway as well."

Proudfoot was shocked. "Really?"

"I was one of many," said Lafayette.

"It's a proper cabal, then."

"That's what we call it, Ezekiel," said Washington resignedly. "The Conway Cabal. He denies it, of course, but General Conway is at the heart of it. He wants me replaced by General Gates, so he has been intriguing with certain members of Congress."

"He try to draw me into it," said Lafayette with a gesture of disgust. "He promise me that, if I speak up for General Gates, I will lead a division into Canada when the time comes. I tell them, already we have a commander, who is the best man."

"Thank you, Marquis."

"How can Congress appoint such a disloyal character as inspector general?" asked Proudfoot angrily. "He should be dismissed for daring to plot against his commander in chief."

"It's one more cross to bear," said Washington, his jaw tightening, "and it's very tiresome. Unfortunately, General Gates is by no means the only man who would like to supplant me. There's even a candidate from Europe who wants to unseat George Washington."

"Oh—and who is that?"

"The Comte de Broglie. The marquis knows him well."

"He was my teacher," said Lafayette with obvious embarrassment. "Everything I learned about war came from him."

"He is a veteran soldier," Washington explained, "and a former head of the French secret service. Then Silas Deane, one of our envoys in Paris, started whispering in his ear, and told him that
he
could be the new commander in chief of the Continental Army."

Proudfoot was aghast. "A Frenchman in charge of the fate of the American colonies?" He raised an apologetic hand. "I'm sorry, Marquis. We are honored to have you with us, but I do not think our soldiers would fight for someone they have never heard of. The French are not even involved in this war."

"At the moment," said Lafayette. "That could change."

"Yes," Washington added. "Benjamin Franklin is in Paris at this moment, trying to get some kind of commitment from them."

"I pray that he does," said Proudfoot. "His hand must have been greatly strengthened by our victory at Saratoga."

"Unquestionably. Franklin will know how to exploit that to the full. He's a wily old character. If we could count on French allies, the progress of this war will change dramatically."

"We would win even sooner," said Lafayette, stabbing the floor with his walking stick. "My country will not let you down, General."

Washington was philosophical. "Let's take things one day at the time. Even if it comes," he said, "French assistance may be months away, and I have more
immediate concerns. I have to feed, clothe, and train a whole army. And I have to prevent epidemics breaking out here."

"The weather, General, is another enemy. It will be a killer."

"It's already started to mutilate our soldiers. Only yesterday, there were two men whose feet had to be amputated because they had turned black with frostbite. They start the New Year on crutches. However," Washington continued, trying to inject a note of optimism, "we'll come through the winter somehow, and we'll not be dormant."

"No," said Proudfoot, "I'll pepper the British with cartoons until they are sick of me, and there'll be lots of other ways to harass them."

"We must peck away at them all the time," said Lafayette.

"No opportunity will be missed to do that, Marquis," vowed Washington. "British skirmishers will be sent out tomorrow, and we will give them a warm reception."

"Do you know when and where they'll be?" asked Proudfoot.

"We have a good idea, Ezekiel."

"How on earth do you get such intelligence?"

"From the indefatigable Major Clark."

"But where does he get it from?"

Washington smiled. "We have an impeccable source," he said.

When, in his coded letter, he gave the Continental Army advance warning of the attack, Captain Jamie Skoyles did not realize that he would be asked to lead the skirmishers. His experience fitted him for the work, and his knowledge of the terrain around Valley Forge made him the ideal choice. It was an assignment that he could not refuse. The object of the exercise was simply to strike, draw blood, then pull out. No territory would be secured. All that Skoyles and his men needed to do was to remind the enemy that the British army would not let them rest. It would put the rebels back on the defensive.

After spending the night at Germantown, the skirmishers set out before dawn in crisp, dry weather. A relatively small, compact, handpicked group of men, they were expert marksman, able to cover ground quickly on foot and adapt to unexpected situations. Skoyles had taken the trouble to learn as many of their names as possible and to win their confidence. His escape from the Convention army had already given him some kudos in the eyes of the
men, and the decisive leadership that he showed from the outset further enhanced his standing. As they marched northwest in the direction of Valley Forge, the skirmishers were happy to be under his command.

All that the coded letter had revealed was the approximate time and place of the attack. Skoyles had deliberately misled the rebels. Though he gave some idea of the size of the skirmishing party, he made no mention of a second, larger force that came up behind it in support. Once they had struck, the intention was for the skirmishers to flee in the hope of pulling rebel soldiers behind them toward a concealed line of reinforcements. The pursuing men could then be picked off at will.

The assault was on one of the forward posts, some miles southeast of Valley Forge. Its isolation made it a potential weak spot. When they got within reach of their target, Skoyles gave the order for his men to fan out and use the cover of the woods. As an officer, he carried a sword and a pistol. The skirmishers all had Brown Bess muskets primed for action. It was still morning when they caught a first glimpse of the enemy.

To survey the post, Skoyles used a telescope, running it along the redoubt and estimating how many men might be behind it. Several pickets were already visible, patrolling a line that stretched out for hundreds of yards. Still hidden by the trees, the skirmishing party was well within range of its target. Skoyles's pistol would be no use at that distance but the muskets could be deadly. Putting the telescope away, he waved a hand to the nearest man and the first shot was fired, dropping one of the pickets beside the redoubt. The rest of the skirmishers immediately fired a volley, downing four more men and wounding others.

Skoyles had expected some return fire from the rebels, followed by some reloading before they charged toward the woods. By that time, the skirmishers would already have reloaded their own weapons, and they had been instructed to unleash a second volley before breaking cover and running back toward their reinforcements. Events, however, did not unfold as planned. Stung by their reverse in the Brandywine Valley, the rebels were not going to be caught out a second time. A much larger body of men than anticipated surged out from behind the redoubt and sprinted toward the attackers. At the same time, a detachment of light horse emerged from behind a hill to the far left.

Even with their support line, the skirmishers were outnumbered. Though they had reloaded swiftly, they were not shooting at stationary targets now.
The men running toward them were spread out wide and zigzagged their way across the grass to make it more difficult for the redcoats. When the second volley came, the rebels dived flat on the ground, then leapt straight up again and continued their run. They had the advantage now. Their muskets were still loaded, and their cavalry was galloping up to join the fray.

Skoyles took a split second to make his decision.

"Pull back!" he yelled.

The skirmishers turned and fled. Sword in one hand and pistol in the other, Skoyles went with them. A first hail of bullets was discharged behind them. Most of them bounced off trees or went far too high, but one skirmisher was wounded in the shoulder. A second man tumbled to the ground with a musket ball in his thigh. He was picked up by two of the others and hauled along behind them. When they reached open ground, they had the best part of a hundred yards to go before they could find cover, and link up with their reinforcements.

It was here that the cavalry attacked. Skirting the wood, they came in from the flank and kicked their horses on. Some of the skirmishers stopped to reload and fire at the oncoming horde; unsaddling two men and bringing one horse crashing to the ground. All that they could do from that point was to use their muskets to parry the slashing swords of the light horse. Skoyles was in the thick of it, shooting one rider between the eyes, then ducking under a flashing blade before thrusting with his own sword at the rider.

The victim yelled in agony. As the man held his wounded stomach and pitched sideways onto the ground, Skoyles tossed away his pistol and grabbed the reins of the horse so that he could mount it. At least, he could fight on equal terms now, wielding his sword with manic fury and riding to the aid of any of his men he saw in jeopardy. The second line of skirmishers had emerged from cover, but they held their fire, afraid that they might hit their own men in the confusion. Having reloaded their weapons, the rebels who had pursued them through the woods waited for the chance to discharge another volley at the fleeing redcoats.

Skoyles kept on the move. All too aware that officers were singled out as targets, he swung his horse in a series of sharp turns as he hacked away with his sword. It was only when he saw that most of the skirmishers had reached cover again that he felt able to retreat himself. His reinforcements, meanwhile, shot for the first time and toppled seven men from their saddles. They then had to
contend with sporadic gunfire from the rebels on foot. On a command from Skoyles, they fled back into the woodland.

There was no more pursuit. The light horse wheeled away and the soldiers from the redoubt melted back into the trees. After waiting until he was certain that it was safe, Skoyles instructed his men to collect the wounded and count the dead. Of the skirmishers in the front line, over half had been killed or injured. The rebels had trounced them. It was a salutary lesson for Skoyles. George Washington and his men could no longer be duped. The coded letter had been sent to entrap the rebels, but it was the redcoats who were caught in a snare. Skoyles felt that he had to take much of the blame for their failure.

As they trudged back to Germantown, he could sense that his men blamed him as well. Confident of success with only limited casualties in their own ranks, the skirmishers were instead limping away with their wounded. The dead had been left behind them. When he returned to Philadelphia, Skoyles would have uncomfortable letters to write to their families back in England. He had surrendered the stolen horse so that it could carry two of the wounded men, but they gave him no thanks. Their brooding silence was like an accusation.

When they entered Germantown, they were tired and dispirited. As they plodded down the main street, Skoyles happened to glance up at the window of a tavern. A face appeared and, for an instant, his eyes met those of someone whom he thought he knew. Then the man vanished from the window. Refusing to believe what he had just seen, Skoyles decided that his mind was playing tricks on him.

It could not possibly have been Ezekiel Proudfoot.

They had known each other only ten days, yet Lucy Tillman felt able to confide something very personal to her new friend. Elizabeth Rainham was delighted for her.

"That's wonderful news!" she said. "When is the baby due?"

"Not until June."

"You and your husband must be thrilled."

"We are," said Lucy, "but we haven't told anyone else yet. You're the first person to know, Elizabeth—apart from the doctor, that is."

"I feel honored."

"I know that I can count on you to keep our little secret."

"I won't tell a soul, Lucy."

"What about Captain Skoyles?"

"That's up to you."

"I'm sure that he can be trusted."

"Then I'll pass on the good news," said Elizabeth. "But, in your condition, you shouldn't be doing anything as energetic as showing me around the town."

"I must have some exercise. Besides, I enjoy being your guide."

"You certainly know your way around Philadelphia."

They were sitting together in the bedchamber that Elizabeth had been given, a small, snug room at the back of the house with just enough space for a bed, a cupboard, a little table, and two chairs. On the table was the novel that Elizabeth had bought from Pearsall Hughes. In the cupboard, with her clothing, were the other items that she had bought during their shopping expedition. Her accommodation could never hope to compete with the two large rooms she occupied back home in England, but it was a vast improvement on living under canvas during a long campaign, or being held in captivity with the Convention army. Elizabeth was now warm, safe, and among friends.