Once Upon a Time in Delaware - Cover

Once Upon a Time in Delaware

Copyright© 2024 by Katharine Pyle

Washington Came To Delaware.

AT ONE time Washington had his headquarters in Wilmington. It was late in the summer of 1777 and just before the Battle of Brandywine.

A few weeks earlier the British fleet had sailed out of New York harbor and had turned toward the south, with all the British army on board. No one knew where the fleet was going; no one knew where the army would land and make their next attack, and there was great anxiety.

General Washington and his army were at this time camped in Bucks county, north of Philadelphia. It was on August twenty-second that a hot and dusty messenger galloped into camp with news for the General that the British fleet had been seen in Chesapeake Bay.

As soon as Washington heard this news, orders were given to the army to break camp, and he marched with them down to Delaware, to be ready to meet the enemy, and to keep them from attacking Philadelphia, for that was then the capital of the colonies.

Wilmington at that time was still a small town. It had a few shops, a market house, and a fire engine company called the “Friendship.” A new ship-building company had just built and launched their first boat, which was named the “Wilmington.” But the most important of all the manufactories were the Brandywine flour mills, which stood on the Brandywine, some little distance above where it flows into the Christiana. Washington had the “runners” (or upper stones) taken from these mills and hauled up into Chester County for fear they might be seized and used by the British.

Wilmington is very hilly. It has been said of it that it is “as full of lumps as a napkin thrown over a blackberry bush.”

The steep part of West Street that slopes up from Front to Fourth was called “Quaker Hill,” for almost all the houses that were there were owned by Quakers. The houses were built in a prim, plain fashion, but within they were full of comfort. Furniture, linen, food, were simple but of the best quality for the Friends knew how to live comfortably, in spite of their plain ways.

It was in one of these houses that Washington made his headquarters. The house is still standing, on the west side of the street, between Third and Fourth Streets.

A little beyond Quaker Hill was an old apple orchard, and still beyond that were the open country and the wooded hills of the Brandywine.

It was near the Brandywine that the army encamped. In the next few days soldiers might often be seen kneeling on the edge of the stream to wash their pieces of clothing. Their voices echoed through the woods in loud jokes and laughter. Sometimes a trooper in buff and blue brought a dozen clattering horses down to the water to drink.

Washington was busy sending and receiving dispatches, riding out to explore the country, and deciding where the best points were upon which to place his army.

By September the second, our army had been moved to the high lands near Newport, a few miles from Wilmington. In the afternoon of that day orders were given to cook provisions and to be ready to march at any time. The enemy were then near Newark, Delaware, but Washington had not yet been able to learn how many there were of them, nor where they meant to attack. However he sent a light corps (of about seven hundred and twenty men) down in their direction. These men were to hide in the woods and hollows, and to act as outposts in case the British marched toward Newark.

It was the next day, September the third, that the British began to advance toward White Clay creek, —a creek which lay between them and the Americans. For some miles above Newark the road was open, with fields and meadows on either hand, and the British marched along it undisturbed. But when the road dipped into the woods, the bullets began to sing about their ears like bees. Several of the British were wounded, for the American riflemen had hidden in the thickets and hollows of the woods and were shooting at them. The Americans were so well hidden that the British scarcely knew where to turn their fire. Some of the British companies left the road to look for them but got lost in a swamp, and had difficulty in finding their way back to firm ground.

For some miles this fire continued, but by the time the British had reached the Christiana creek, near Cooch’s Mill, the shots had almost stopped.

The bridge across the stream lay still and peaceful in the sunlight. There was no sound but the ripple of the water against the rocks, and a cow lowing in the distance.

 
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