Alex and Eliza: A Love Story(62)
The plan was to go south.
Reliable intelligence had it that General Henry Clinton, the commander in chief of British forces in North America, had sailed south in December at the head of a massive army of over 8,500 men. General Clinton was believed to have been in Savannah since early in the year, where he had been joined by Generals Cornwallis and Rawdon, who had swelled the British forces to 14,000 men. It appeared the British general had his sights set on taking the crucial city of Charleston, which, in addition to its trading importance, was also garrison to some 5,000 Continental troops.
Colonel Hamilton and the men of the 3rd New Jersey, in conjunction with seven other regiments, would sail to South Carolina and establish a second American position on Sullivan’s Island, where in 1776 Colonel Moultrie had successfully defended Charleston against a far smaller British force.
The second garrison would make it impossible for Clinton to lay siege to the forces inside Charleston proper without exposing his rear flank to constant ambushes by the American forces at Fort Moultrie.
SHE WAS GOING to marry someone else. Someone with a name, a family, and a fortune. Of course she was. He had to forget about her. He had 728 men under his command. At first they were no more than a list of names on sheets of paper, but as he perused the litany of Alcotts and Kilkelleys and Williamsons, the Josiahs and Ezekiels and Franklins, Alex had a sense of the awesome responsibility that had been placed in his hands. Each of these men was someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s husband—someone’s future. And all of them would be risking their lives at his sole discretion. Alex’s wisdom would be their salvation. His folly would be their death.
When he got the word from General Washington, Alex poured his heart out to his friend Laurens.
May I say, the news of an imminent reunion with my Dearest Friend is the only thing that consoles me during these dreary days, when I am separated from my adored Eliza not just by a distance of some hundreds of miles, but by the dispiriting prospect of her marriage to that bounder Henry Livingston! Dispiriting, I write, as if I were talking about a loss at cards or a poor yield from an orchard. The truth is, John, I am crushed. So dismal am I that I have bethought myself to decline General Washington’s commission on the grounds that I am not fit to assume responsibility for the lives of Seven Hundreds of our boys when I care not a whit for my own. If I had my druthers right now, I would not lead these brave lads but fight amongst them as one of them. I would charge the enemy line with my bayonet outstretched and gorge myself on British blood till they were all strewn about me like a covey of partridge happened upon by a rabid dog, or until I myself was gored and fallen. Indeed, I sometimes think it better that I die in the upcoming battle so that Eliza may be free of me and not have the regret of not marrying me to compound the woes of what I cannot help but conceive of as a difficult marriage. And yet it is a marriage that I have no right to contest, for I have not the fortune nor the name to claim her as my own. Laurens, the fighting cannot come soon enough . . .
And yet, he would still have to wait a little longer.
DURING THE COURSE of the long winter, one of Alex’s many tasks was negotiating with Wilhelm von Knyphausen, a general in the army of England’s Hessian allies, and the erstwhile commander of British-held New York City in General Clinton’s absence, over a plan for an exchange of prisoners of war. After Clinton’s departure to South Carolina, Alex began corresponding with the German general. Both sides claimed to long for the prisoner exchange, yet during the four and half years of fighting, no steps forward had been made.
By this point, each side held thousands of prisoners, which was onerous for the captors, but excruciating—and often fatal—for the captives. King George, in violation of the rules of war, had gone so far as to declare that American soldiers should be treated not as enemy combatants but as traitors, and thus were denied many of the protections that were afforded to prisoners of war by international custom. Wallabout Bay off the coast of Brooklyn was filled with the hulks of more than a dozen so-called prison ships—ancient vessels too decrepit to go to sea. Conditions on board were unspeakable, with reports that thousands of Americans had died of starvation, disease, and exposure. Captured Britons were treated more humanely by the Americans, but only to the degree that supplies permitted. This was wartime, after all. It was hard enough feeding one’s own army, let alone some seven thousand enemy troops. It would be a tremendous relief to be rid of them, but of course that wouldn’t happen if the British did not consent to release a compensatory number of captured Americans.
The negotiations had progressed well, with General von Knyphausen proving more amenable than General Clinton to divesting himself of the responsibility for thousands of captured Americans. No doubt as a mercenary and someone with no national loyalty to England, he took the rebellion less personally than did General Clinton, who seemed not to care how many American boys died on his watch. With spring approaching and with both sides in need of more troops for the resumption of hostilities, von Knyphausen requested a personal meeting to move the negotiations forward. General Washington refused to meet with him, on the grounds that von Knyphausen was not his equal in rank and it would be beneath him to parlay with an inferior.
His Excellency directed Alex to go in his stead.
Alex was torn about the mission. It was, in its own way, an even greater responsibility than command of a regiment, with perhaps twenty thousand lives hanging in the balance. Yet Alex was tired of telling powerful men how powerful they were. It would be tedious work, more a matter for an accountant than a statesman, with dozens of egos to play off and assuage.