The Old Bell of Independence; Or, Philadelphia in 1776

"On the evening of the sixth, about nine o'clock, the little squadron again sailed, and crossing Narragansett Bay, landed on Warwick Neck. On the seventh, the wind changing to E.N.E. brought on a storm, and retarded their plan. On the ninth, the weather being pleasant, it was determined to embark for the island. The boats were now numbered, and the place of every officer and soldier assigned. About nine o'clock in the evening, Major Barton assembled his little party around him, and in a short but spirited address, in which were mingled the feelings of the soldier and the man, he disclosed to them the object of the enterprise. He did not attempt to conceal the danger and difficulties that would inevitably attend the undertaking; nor did he forget to remind them, that should their efforts be followed by success, they would be entitled to, and would receive, the grateful acknowledgments of their country. 'It is probable,' said he, 'that some of us may not survive the daring attempt; but I ask you to hazard no dangers which will not be shared with you by your commander; and I pledge to you my honor, that in every difficulty and danger I will take the lead.' He received the immediate and unanimous assurance of the whole party, that they would follow wherever their commander should lead them. Major Barton then, reminding them how much the success of the enterprise depended upon their strict attention to orders, directed that each individual should confine himself to his particular seat in the boat assigned him, and that not a syllable should be uttered by any one. He instructed them, as they regarded their character as patriots and soldiers, that in the hour of danger they should be firm, collected, and resolved fearlessly to encounter the dangers and difficulties that might assail them. He concluded by offering his earnest petition to the Great King of Armies, that he would smile upon their intended enterprise, and crown it with success. The whole party now proceeded to the shore. Major Barton had reason to apprehend that he might be discovered in his passage from the main to Rhode-Island, by some of the ships of war that lay at a small distance from shore. He therefore directed the commanding officer at Warwick Neck, that if he heard the report of three distinct muskets, to send boats to the north end of Prudence Island to his aid. The whole party now took possession of the boats in the manner directed. That which contained Major Barton was posted in front, with a pole about ten feet long fixed in her stern, to the end of which was attached a handkerchief, in order that his boat might be distinguished from the others, and that none might go before it. In this manner they proceeded between the islands of Prudence and Patience, in order that they might not be seen by the shipping of the enemy that lay off Hope Island. While passing the north end of Prudence Island, they heard from the sentinels on board the shipping of the enemy, the cry of 'All's well!' As they approached the shore of Rhode-Island, a noise like the running of horses was heard, which threw a momentary consternation over the minds of the whole party; but, in strict conformity to the orders issued, not a word was spoken by any one. A moment's reflection satisfied Major Barton of the utter impossibility that his designs could be known by the enemy, and he pushed boldly for the shore. Apprehensive that, if discovered, the enemy might attempt to cut off his retreat, Major Barton ordered one man to remain in each boat, and be prepared to depart at a moment's warning. The remainder of the party landed without delay. The reflections of Major Barton at this interesting moment, were of a nature the most painful. The lapse of a few hours would place him in a situation in the highest degree gratifying to his ambition, or overwhelm him in the ruin in which his rashness would involve him. In the solemn silence of night, and on the shores of the enemy, he paused a moment to consider a plan which had been projected and matured amidst the bustle of a camp and in a place of safety. The night was excessively dark, and, a stranger to the country, his sole reliance upon a direct and rapid movement to the head-quarters of a British general, so essential to success, rested upon the imperfect information he had acquired from deserters from the enemy. Should he surprise and secure General Prescott, he was aware of the difficulties that would attend his conveyance to the boat; the probability of an early and fatal discovery of his design by the troops upon the island; and, even if he should succeed in reaching the boats, it was by no means improbable that the alarm might be seasonably given to the shipping, to prevent his retreat to the main. But regardless of circumstances, which even then would have afforded an apology for a hasty retreat, he resolved at all hazards to attempt the accomplishment of his designs.

"To the head-quarters of General Prescott, about a mile from the shore, a party in five divisions now proceeded in silence. There were doors on the south, the east and west sides of the house in which he resided. The first division was ordered to advance upon the south door, the second the west, and the third the east, the fourth to guard the road, and the fifth to act in emergencies. In their march they passed the guard-house of the enemy on their left, and on their right a house occupied by a company of cavalry, for the purpose of carrying with expedition the orders of the general to remote parts of the island. On arriving at the head-quarters of the enemy, as the gate of the front yard was opened, they were challenged by a sentinel on guard. The party was at the distance of twenty-five yards from the sentinel, but a row of trees partially concealed them from his view, and prevented him from determining their number. No reply was made to the challenge of the sentinel, and the party proceeded on in silence. The sentinel again demanded, 'Who comes there?' 'Friends,' replied Barton. 'Friends,' says the sentinel, 'advance and give the countersign.'

"Major Barton, affecting to be angry, said to the sentinel, who was now near him, 'Damn you, we have no countersign—have you seen any rascals to-night?' and, before the sentinel could determine the character of those who approached him, Major Barton had seized his musket, told him he was a prisoner, and threatened, in case of noise or resistance, to put him to instant death. The poor fellow was so terrified, that upon being asked whether his general was in the house, he was for some time unable to give any answer. At length, in a faltering voice, he replied that he was. By this time each division having taken its station, the south door was burst open by the direction of Major Barton, and the division there stationed, with their commander at their head, rushed into the head-quarters of the general. At this critical moment, one of the British soldiers effected his escape, and fled to the quarters of the main guard. This man had no article of clothing upon him but a shirt; and having given the alarm to the sentinel on duty, passed on to the quarters of the cavalry, which was more remote from the head-quarters of the general. The sentinel roused the main guard, who were instantly in arms, and demanded the cause of alarm. He stated the information which had been given him by the soldier, which appeared so incredible to the sergeant of the guard that he insisted that he had seen a ghost. The sentinel, to whom the account of the general's capture appeared quite as incredible as to his commanding officer, admitted that the messenger was clothed in white; and after submitting to the jokes of his companions, as a punishment for his credulity, he was ordered to resume his station, while the remainder of the guard retired to their quarters. It was fortunate for Major Barton and his brave followers, that the alarm given by the soldier was considered groundless. Had the main guard proceeded without delay to the relief of their commanding general, his rescue certainly, and probably the destruction of the party, would have been the consequence.

"The first room Major Barton entered was occupied by Mr. Pering, who positively denied that General Prescott was in the house. He next entered the room of his son, who was equally obstinate with his father in denying that the general was there. Major Barton then proceeded to other apartments, but was still disappointed in the object of his search. Aware that longer delay might defeat the object of his enterprise, Major Barton resorted to stratagem to facilitate his search. Placing himself at the head of the stairway, and declaring his resolution to secure the general dead or alive, he ordered [Illustration: CAPTURE OF GENERAL PRESCOTT.] his soldiers to set fire to the house. The soldiers were preparing to execute his orders, when a voice, which Major Barton at once suspected to be the general's, demanded 'What's the matter?' Major Barton rushed to the apartment from whence the voice proceeded, and discovered an elderly man just rising from his bed, and clapping his hand upon his shoulder, demanded of him if he was General Prescott. He answered 'Yes, sir.' 'You are my prisoner, then,' said Major Barton. 'I acknowledge that I am,' replied the general. In a moment, General Prescott found himself, half dressed, in the arms of the soldiers, who hurried him from the house. In the meantime, Major Barrington, the aid to General Prescott, discovering that the house was attacked by the rebels, as he termed them, leaped from the window of his bed-chamber, and was immediately secured a prisoner. General Prescott, supported by Major Barton and one of his officers, and attended by Major Barrington and the sentinel, proceeded, surrounded by the soldiery, to the shore. Upon seeing the five little boats, General Prescott, who knew the position of the British shipping, appeared much confused, and, turning to Major Barton, inquired if he commanded the party. On being informed that he did, he expressed a hope that no personal injury was intended him; and Major Barton assured the general of his protection, while he remained under his control.

"The general had travelled from head-quarters to the shore in his waistcoat, small-clothes, and slippers. A moment was now allowed him to complete his dress, while the party were taking possession of the boats. The general was placed in the boat with Major Barton, and they proceeded for the main.

"They had not got far from the island, when the discharge of cannon and three sky-rockets gave the signal of alarm. It was fortunate for the party that the enemy on board the shipping were ignorant of the cause of it, for they might easily have cut off their retreat. The signal of alarm excited the apprehensions of Major Barton and his brave associates, and redoubled their exertions to reach the point of their destination before they could be discovered. They succeeded, and soon after day-break landed at Warwick Neck, near the point of their departure, after an absence of six hours and a half.

"General Prescott turned towards the island, and, observing the ships of war, remarked to Major Barton, 'Sir, you have made a bold push to-night.' 'We have been fortunate,' replied the hero. An express was immediately sent forward to Major-General Spencer, at Providence, communicating the success which had attended the enterprise. Not long afterwards, a coach arrived, which had been despatched by General Spencer to convey General Prescott and his aide-de-camp prisoners to Providence. They were accompanied by Major Barton, who related to General Spencer, on their arrival, the particulars of the enterprise, and received from that officer the most grateful acknowledgments for the signal services he had rendered to his country."

"I suppose Prescott paid for Lee soon afterwards?" said young Harmar. "Yes; he was an officer of equal rank with Lee. The enemy had refused to exchange Lee for two or three officers of an inferior grade, but they were ready enough to take Prescott for him," replied Morton.

"It was as complete an enterprise as was ever carried through," remarked old Harmar.

"The poor general must have been surprised to find he was a prisoner, when he thought himself safe among an army and fleet," observed Mrs. Harmar.

"Major Barton was every inch a hero. See his skill and daring in planning and executing the capture, and then his modesty when Prescott said he had made a bold push—'We have been fortunate.' The reply was worthy of the noblest of the Athenians," remarked Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"Circumstances did certainly favor the enterprise," said Smith. "In fact, we may say its success turned upon chances, and if it had failed and the whole party been made prisoners, Major Barton would have been called a rash and inconsiderate officer. Success works wonders in our estimate of deeds."

"You are harsh. Barton calculated the chances before he entered into the expedition—saw that they were in his favor, and then formed his plan. I am persuaded that, had he failed, his countrymen would have done him justice," said Wilson.

"Perhaps," replied Higgins.

JONATHAN RILEY AND FRANK LILLY

"I say, Mr. Higgins," said old Harmar, wishing to change the subject, "do you recollect Jonathan Riley and Frank Lilly, that were in our company?"

"I do. I shall never forget the death of either of them," replied Higgins. "Poor Frank used to be the butt of the regiment."

"And why shall you always remember the death of those two men?" inquired Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"Well, from peculiar circumstances connected with them," replied Higgins. "However, your father knew them most intimately, and he can tell you more about them than I can."

"Come, father, we call on you for the story," said Mrs. Harmar.

"You shall have what I can recollect of it, my child. My memory won't pass muster any more; but if there's one event that will never escape its grasp, it is the singular death of Jonathan Riley. He was a sergeant in our regiment.

He had served in the old French war, and, being a man of tried courage and presence of mind, he was usually selected for dangerous and trying situations. He was at length placed on a recruiting station, and in a short period he enlisted a great number of men. Among his recruits was Frank Lilly, a boy about sixteen years old, who was so weak and small that he would not have passed muster if the array had not been greatly in want of men. The soldiers made this boy the butt of their ridicule, and many a joke was perpetrated at his expense. Yet there was a spirit in the boy beyond his years. Riley was greatly attached to him; and it was reported, on good authority, that he was the fruit of one of Riley's love affairs with a beautiful and unfortunate girl.

"Often on our long and fatiguing marches, dying almost from want, harassed incessantly by the enemy, did Riley carry the boy's knapsack for miles, and many a crust for the poor wretch was saved from his scanty allowance. But Frank Lilly's resolution was once the cause of saving the whole detachment. The American army was encamped at Elizabethtown. The soldiers stationed about four miles from the main body, near the bay that separated the continent from Staten-Island, forming an advance picket-guard, were chosen from a southern regiment, and were continually deserting. It was a post of some danger, as the young ambitious British officers, or experienced sergeants, often headed parties that approached the shore in silence, during the night, and attacked our outposts. Once they succeeded in surprising and capturing an officer and twenty men, without the loss of a man on their part. General Washington determined to relieve the forces near the bay, and our regiment was the one from which the selection was made. The arrangement of our guard, as near as I can recollect, was as follows:

"A body of two hundred and fifty men was stationed a short distance inland. In advance of these were several outposts, consisting of an officer and thirty men each. The sentinels were so near as to meet in their rounds, and were relieved every two hours. It chanced one dark and windy night, that Lilly and myself were sentinels on adjoining posts. All the sentinels were directed to fire on the least alarm, and retreat to the guard, where we were to make the best defence we could, until supported by the detachment in our rear. In front of me was a strip of woods, and the bay was so near that I could hear the dashing of the waves. It was near midnight, and occasionally a star was to be seen through the flying clouds. The hours passed heavily and cheerlessly away. The wind at times roared through the adjoining woods with astonishing violence. In a pause of the storm, as the wind died suddenly away, and was heard only moaning at a distance, I was startled by an unusual noise in the woods before me. Again I listened attentively, and imagined that I heard the heavy tread of a body of men, and the rattling of cartridge boxes. As I met Lilly, I informed him of my suspicions. All had been quiet in the rounds, but he promised to keep a good watch, and fire on the least alarm. We separated, and I had marched but a few rods, when I heard the following conversation. 'Stand.' The answer was from a speaker rapidly approaching, and in a low constrained voice. 'Stand yourself, and you shall not be injured. If you fire, you are a dead man. If you remain where you are, you shall not be harmed. If you move, I will run you through.'

"Scarcely had he spoken, when I saw the flash, and heard the report of Lilly's gun. I saw a black mass rapidly advancing, at which I fired, and with all the sentinels retreated to the guard, consisting of thirty men, commanded by an ensign. An old barn had served them for a guard-house, and they barely had time to turn out, and parade in the road, as the British were getting over a fence within six rods of us, to the number of eighty, as we supposed. We fired upon them, and retreated in good order towards the detachment in the rear. The enemy, disappointed of their expected prey, pushed us hard, but we were soon reinforced, and they, in their turn, were compelled to retreat, and we followed them at their heels to the boats. We found the next morning that poor Frank Lilly, after discharging his musket, was followed so close by the enemy that he was unable to get over a fence, and he was run through with a bayonet. It was apparent, however, that there had been a violent struggle; for in front of his post was a British non-commissioned officer, one of the best formed men I ever saw, shot directly through the body. He died in great agonies, as the ground was torn up with his hands, and he had literally bitten the dust. We discovered long traces of blood, but never knew the extent of the enemy's loss. Poor Riley took Lilly's death so much to heart that he never afterwards was the man he previously had been. He became indifferent, and neglected his duty. There was something remarkable in the manner of his death. He was tried for his life, and sentenced to be shot. During the trial and subsequently, he discovered an indifference truly astonishing. On the day of his execution, the fatal cap was drawn over his eyes, and he was caused to kneel in front of the whole army. Twelve men were detailed for the purpose of executing him, but a pardon had been granted, unknown to Riley, in consequence of his age and services; they had no cartridges. The word 'ready' was given, and the cocking of guns could be distinctly heard. At the word 'fire,' Riley fell dead upon his face, when not a gun had been discharged."

"That was a remarkable death; but there have been many instances of a similar kind. The dread of death has been sufficient to produce it without a mortal blow," remarked Wilson.

"But I cannot believe that Riley ever felt a dread of death. He was always as reckless of his own life as if it was not of the value of a pin's head. No; it was not the dread of death," replied old Harmar.

"It may have been the belief that death was certainly about to visit him. Imagination may produce effects quite as wonderful," observed Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"It's a waste of time and thought to speculate on such things," said Smith. "But I'm inclined to believe, with young Mr. Harmar, that it was the result of imagination. A man hearing the word 'fire,' in such a case, would feel sure of death, and then his faculties would sink into the expected state."

"I guess Riley's heart must have been almost broken at the death of poor Frank Lilly," said Mrs. Harmar.

"Yes; he felt it deeper than most of us thought, and as I said, became perfectly indifferent whether his duty was performed or not," replied old Harmar. "The whole story of Riley and Lilly, including the account of the love affair, was a sad bit of romance."

THE MASSACRE OF WYOMING

"The people of Pennsylvania," observed Morton, "suffered more from the tories and Indians than they did from the British. Philadelphia and its vicinity were the only parts which any considerable British force visited; but look at the depredations of the tories and Indians on the northern and western frontiers, and at the massacre at Wyoming particularly."

"Ay, there were suffering and horror enough experienced in that valley alone, to match those of any other event in our history. It was a time of blood and desolation," remarked Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"I was intimately acquainted with several families residing in the valley at the time of the massacre," said Morton; "and one man, who was taken prisoner after seeing his whole family slaughtered, and who afterwards escaped from the bloody band, narrated the whole affair to me."

"There is considerable dispute in regard to the circumstances attending the massacre. It seems impossible to get at the precise truth," observed Mrs. Harmar. "It's my opinion, the horrors of the event have been greatly exaggerated," added Smith.

"I do not think they could be exaggerated," replied Morton. "If you desire it, I will relate the circumstances as they were narrated to me. I can vouch for the strict regard to truth that has ever distinguished my friend."

Of course, the company signified their desire to hear the account, and thereupon Morton began as follows.

"Wyoming, besides being a frontier settlement during the course of the Revolutionary war, and therefore constantly exposed to the inroads of the savages, had furnished two full companies, and about sixty recruits more, for the main army—all which were annexed to the Connecticut line, and armed at their own expense. They amounted, in the whole, to two hundred and thirty men. While thus weakened and unguarded, they were invaded by an army from Niagara, in the British service, composed of regulars, tories, and Indians; of which the Indians composed the greater part.

"The Indians, in the spring of 1777, began to be troublesome. Their numbers were frequently augmented by the arrival of new parties; and it was from the cattle, hogs, and other plunder taken from the inhabitants, that they furnished themselves with provisions. Some of the inhabitants were killed by them, and others captured; and they destroyed much property. At length they became very formidable.

"The inhabitants had erected several small forts, but the principal one was Forty Fort, in Kingston, on the west side of the river, a small distance above Wyoming Falls. To this the settlers had chiefly resorted. They had sent agents to the continental army to acquaint them with their distressed situation; in consequence of which, Captain Spaulding, with about sixty or seventy men, was dispatched to their assistance. This detachment was, at the time of the massacre, about forty miles distant. The garrison had been apprised of their march from Lancaster, but not of their proximity.

"The people in the garrison grew uneasy, under the insults of the invaders. The militia were placed under officers taken from themselves, and the whole body was commanded by Colonel Zebulon Butler, of the continental army. Colonel Dennison, of the militia, was second in command. There was a fortification about three miles above Forty Fort, called Wintermoot's Fort. This was in the possession of tories. They surrendered at the approach of the enemy, without opposition, and gave them aid; some of them entering fully into their interests. Wintermoot's Fort instantly became the headquarters of the expedition from Canada; and was commanded by Colonel John Butler, a British officer, and commander of a party of rangers. The second in command was Colonel Brandt, a natural son of Sir William Johnson, by an Indian woman. Some communications by flag had taken place between the hostile parties previous to the battle, with propositions of compromise. The Canadians insisted on an unqualified submission to Great Britain; but this the garrison peremptorily refused, and nothing was effected. The reciprocal bearers of flags represented the army of the invaders as double the garrison in number, and still more superior in the quality of their arms.