Through the Perilous Fight Page 13

  Leaving the President’s House after his conference with Madison, Winder found his horse too exhausted to continue. He stopped at the McKeown Hotel to exchange it, but no fresh horses were to be found. The commanding general continued on foot two more miles to the American camp.

  When he finally found his troops, Winder sent a party to immediately burn the rickety upper bridge and dispatched the Washington Artillery to guard the lower Eastern Branch Bridge until it was necessary to blow it up.

  Continuing through the dark night on foot to the Navy Yard, the exhausted general fell hard into a ditch, badly hurting his right arm and ankle. He limped on to the yard and roused Captain Thomas Tingey around 1 a.m. The yard commandant assured Winder that several casks of powder had been loaded onto boats and would be sent to blow the lower bridge when necessary, but in response to Winder’s pleas to “put beyond doubt” the bridge’s destruction, Tingey agreed to send more explosives.

  Winder arrived at camp around 3 a.m. and located Major Peter’s tent. The Georgetown Artillery commander was trying to sleep, but Winder came in, lay down on Peter’s straw mattress, and poured out his frustration about “the inefficiency of the troops he had to command.” Peter dozed off as Winder went on. “When I awoke,” Peter recalled, “the general was gone.”

  BRITISH HEADQUARTERS, MELWOOD PLANTATION, PREDAWN, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 24

  Lieutenant James Scott, Admiral Cockburn’s aide-de-camp, rushed through the night, first aboard a small boat that carried him from a British frigate anchored in the Patuxent to the shoreline, and then atop a waiting horse, which he rode on a dark, wooded trail. At Upper Marlboro, he linked up with Royal Marine Captain Robyns, commander of the rear guard, who escorted him to the headquarters of the British expeditionary force, another five miles to the west. General Ross, after advancing from Upper Marlboro, had stopped his army that evening three miles short of Old Fields, in the vicinity of the Melwood plantation, located on what is now Andrews Air Force Base. Ross’s contemplated night attack had become moot when the American force abandoned Old Fields and retreated to Washington. Instead, the British camped for the night.

  Scott carried an urgent message from Vice Admiral Cochrane, commander of the fleet. Cochrane had not been happy to read the note from Cockburn that Scott delivered Tuesday afternoon reporting that the expeditionary force was marching on Washington. Cochrane thought the decision rash, believing it vital to preserve the force for continued operations, in particular an eventual assault on New Orleans. The British force had already accomplished enough and was too small to capture the American capital.

  It was close to daybreak Wednesday morning when the lieutenant reached the camp with Cochrane’s reply. The navy officer was taken to a shepherd’s hut where Cockburn and Ross were staying. They were asleep on their cloaks when Scott entered, but arose at the commotion. Scott handed the packet to the admiral. Cockburn silently read the note and handed it to Ross without comment. Ross digested the contents. There was nothing ambivalent about the message—it recommended “in strenuous terms, an immediate retreat,” according to Lieutenant Evans.

  Cockburn argued forcefully against it. “No,” he said, “we cannot do that. We are too far advanced to think of a retreat.” Cockburn urged Ross to talk it over outside, and the two commanders paced under the stars. Scott and Evans heard smatterings of the conversation as the two commanders walked to and fro.

  “If we proceed, I’ll pledge everything that is dear to me as an officer that we shall succeed,” Cockburn declared. “If we return without striking a blow, it will be worse than a defeat—it will bring stain upon our arms.”

  In contradicting Cochrane, Cockburn was risking his career. He would be held accountable for any failure, and even if they succeeded, Cochrane was not likely to be pleased by Cockburn’s insolence. But in Cockburn’s view, the die had been cast.

  Whatever the views of the admiral, the decision belonged to Ross. His orders from London not to take any unnecessary risks weighed heavily on the Irishman. “I felt an apprehension of the consequences of failure, originating from my instructions, which bound me not to attempt anything that might be attended with the want of success,” he would write Ly, his wife.

  Yet Ross did not hesitate now. To the west, the pickets on the perimeter of the British encampment could see a glow toward Washington, where the upper bridge was burning, while the eastern sky was tinged with the blush of day.

  With the dawn, Ross slapped himself in the forehead. “Well, be it so, we will proceed,” the general declared.

  “[W]e took our position on the rising ground … and waited the approach of the enemy.”

  Commodore Joshua Barney as he appeared around the time of the War of 1812.

  CHAPTER 6

  The Enemy in Bladensburg!

  AMERICAN HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 24

  Early Wednesday morning, a message arrived at the President’s House from General Winder. Though it was addressed to Secretary of War Armstrong, President Madison did not hesitate to open it. Winder, warning of “very threatening” news, asked to meet with Secretary of War Armstrong and other government officials as soon as possible. Madison dispatched the note to Armstrong at his boardinghouse and then rushed to Winder’s headquarters near the Eastern Branch Bridge, arriving around 7 a.m. The entire cabinet was soon at hand, save Armstrong, to the astonishment of Madison, who grew increasingly furious at the secretary of war’s conspicuous absence.

  The war council was oddly unfocused, given the urgency of the moment. Even at this late hour, Winder was not convinced that the British intended to come to Washington—Annapolis or Fort Washington might be the targets, he suggested. An officer in attendance described the discussion as “rather desultory; first one suggestion was made and commented on, and then another; no idea seemed to be entertained that it was necessary to come instantly to a decision how we should act.”

  Dragoons burst in every few minutes with scouting reports and messages. Winder learned—“with considerable mortification”—that Stansbury’s Maryland militia had failed to hold its position at Bladensburg and was instead retreating toward the capital. He immediately sent Stansbury an order to resume his position at Bladensburg, promising to support him should the enemy move in that direction. A rumor arrived that the enemy were indeed marching toward Bladensburg. Winder gave the report little credence, but Monroe, just back from Bladensburg and already chafing at the inaction, offered to return to assist Stansbury. Madison and Winder approved.

  With Monroe gone, Bladensburg was forgotten. Winder was preoccupied with the British squadron working its way up the Potomac and proposed sending troops to man batteries on the river. “The preponderance of opinion,” according to Attorney General Rush, held that the British army would move southeast and unite with the squadron for a joint attack on Fort Washington, or even—it was suggested with unfettered optimism—to embark on the ships and retreat down the Potomac.

  Then a messenger reported that the British had passed through Old Fields and were heading straight to the city on a route that would take them to the Eastern Branch Bridge. Winder ordered Major Peter’s artillery to reinforce the position and requested Barney and his flotillamen, quartered at the U.S. Marine Barracks near the Navy Yard, to bring up the big guns and prepare to defend the capital.

  OLD FIELDS, EARLY MORNING, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 24

  The British army had been moving rapidly since daylight—to Bladensburg, not Washington. Given a respite from the heat under a welcoming canopy of trees sheltering the road, the British made good time. They soon reached Old Fields, passing smoking ashes, bundles of straw, and scattered supplies, plain evidence of the large American force that had hurriedly left the previous evening. Just beyond the camp, they came to a fork in the road, one route leading to Washington, the other to Bladensburg.

  General Ross took the road leading to Washington, moving forward until the last column had passed the fork. Spotting American cavalry scouts, Ross
sent thirty mounted artillery drivers in pursuit. The makeshift British cavalry chased the Americans two miles, sounding their trumpets and causing so much racket that “the enemy supposed the whole army about to force the bridges,” said Lieutenant Evans. The frantic scouts reported exactly that to Winder’s war council. But in the meantime the British doubled back and took the route leading north to Bladensburg. It was the same ruse Ross had used two days earlier on the way to Upper Marlboro, and it worked again. The British had been marching for five hours, but the Americans had done nothing to reinforce Bladensburg.

  AMERICAN HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, MID-MORNING, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 24

  At 10 a.m. a messenger arrived with news that brought the war council in Washington to an abrupt end. Contrary to the last information, the enemy was in “full march” to Bladensburg. “[T]here was still as much consternation and perplexity as if Ross had that morning dropped suddenly with his army from the clouds,” wrote militia aide Major Williams. Winder issued a flurry of orders directing the District militia under General Smith to break camp and race to Bladensburg.

  As Winder prepared to depart, a sullen Armstrong wandered in, having stopped along the way to chat with passersby. Madison icily informed that the British were moving on Bladensburg and asked the secretary of war if “he had any advice or plan to offer upon the occasion.” Armstrong did not, but he did predict, rather unhelpfully, that as the coming battle would be fought “between regulars and militia, the latter would be beaten.”

  Winder rushed out of the house, followed by the president and his cabinet. The general “seemed to be in a high state of excitement” and tugged “violently” at his hair, recalled Major George Biscoe, an aide. “Major Biscoe I am but a nominal commander,” Winder told him. “[T]he president and secretary of war have interfered with my intended operations, and I greatly fear for the success of the day.”

  With that, Winder dashed off for Bladensburg. The general, who lacked formal command over Barney’s flotillamen and Captain Miller’s marines, left the most potent American fighting force available guarding a bridge that was not on the route the British were taking to Washington. Barney, livid, confronted the president and his cabinet as they milled about near the bridge. Some 500 flotillamen and 120 marines were being left to do a job that “any damned corporal can better do with five,” Barney heatedly declared. The president, seconded by Navy Secretary Jones and other cabinet members, judiciously agreed to send Barney’s force to Bladensburg. A small detail of marines was left to guard the bridge and blow it if necessary.

  Jones, conferring with the president, recommended that the Navy Yard be destroyed if the British entered the city, rather than be allowed to fall into enemy hands.

  Secretary of the Navy William Jones.

  Madison and the cabinet members mounted their horses, hurriedly making last-minute arrangements. Should Washington be lost, the president said, the cabinet would reassemble in Frederick, Maryland, forty-five miles to the northwest. Jones, conferring with the president, recommended that the Navy Yard be destroyed if the British entered the city, rather than be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Madison agreed, and Jones rushed to make the arrangements.

  Treasury Secretary George Campbell drew the president aside. Madison could not afford to be without the aid of his secretary of war, “considering the extraordinary and menacing” situation, he told the president. Campbell did not need to mention that confidence in Winder had plummeted. Recounting his conversation with Armstrong the previous evening, Campbell told Madison that the war secretary was not going to help defend the capital unless expressly ordered by the president.

  Madison was shocked. “I could scarcely conceive it possible that Genl. Armstrong could have so misconstrued his functions and duty as Secretary of War,” he wrote several days later. Madison turned his horse to Armstrong and “expressed to him my concern and surprise at the reserve he shewed in the present crisis.” He instructed Armstrong to go to Bladensburg and assist Winder. Armstrong agreed and rode off.

  Madison prepared to ride to Bladensburg to resolve any disputes over authority. Campbell, too ill to ride, handed Madison his pair of dueling pistols, which the president dutifully accepted. The sight of the diminutive president strapping on guns was at once comical and sobering.

  After a quick stop at the Marine barracks, Madison’s horse went lame, and he exchanged mounts with his friend, Charles Carroll. Accompanied by Rush and Madison’s servant, a free black man named James Smith, the president of the United States set off at “full gallop” to Bladensburg.

  BLADENSBURG, MORNING, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 24

  The town of Bladensburg lay almost entirely empty on the morning of August 24. Most of the 1,500 inhabitants had fled, and the pleasant brick homes scattered on the L-shaped main street were abandoned. Bladensburg sat six miles northeast of the Capitol, at the point where the turnpike from Washington to Baltimore crossed the Eastern Branch. The town’s days as a thriving port had come and gone before Washington even existed. After its founding in 1742, oceangoing sloops with goods from around the world docked at Bladensburg’s deepwater wharf to trade for tobacco grown in the rich surrounding soil. But from the start, Bladensburg was plagued by erosion. Silt from farming filled the channel, and the port became dormant.

  The town survived as a center of commerce by virtue of good roads converging from Washington, Georgetown, Baltimore, southern Maryland, and Annapolis, a central location that also gave Bladensburg new life as a weekend destination. “People come from all directions to drink the waters on Sunday—all Georgetown in particular comes,” Rosalie Stier Calvert, who lived at the nearby Riversdale plantation, wrote her sister.

  Bladensburg had also gained favor as a dueling ground. Its location across the District line offered the advantage of being outside Washington’s jurisdiction yet convenient to the capital. A deep, tree-lined ravine nearby provided a sheltered ground for the still common but illegal practice. Just the previous year, Joshua Barney had chosen Bladensburg for a duel against a Baltimore businessman who had called him “a most abandoned rascal.” The local marshal, tipped off to the plan, chased the duelists out of Bladensburg, forcing Barney to cross the river into Virginia for the satisfaction of shooting and wounding the offender.

  But Bladensburg’s greatest fame was still to come.

  After abandoning Bladensburg during the night, Stansbury’s Maryland militia had stopped around sunrise on a hill a mile and a half east of the town. A message arrived from Winder, reiterating that the Maryland militia should defend Bladensburg if the enemy attacked. Once again, Stansbury summoned his senior commanders, and once again they agreed to ignore Winder’s instructions, deciding “no good could result” from them.

  Soon afterward, around 9 a.m., a third message arrived from Winder, once more ordering them back to Bladensburg. Stansbury’s subordinates again urged retreat, but Winder’s order was so emphatic that Stansbury reluctantly concluded he had no choice but to obey. He could not quite bring himself to cross the bridge back into town and stopped short of the Eastern Branch.

  The roads from Washington and Georgetown met at a 45–degree angle before crossing into Bladensburg, creating a triangular field where Stansbury set up his troops. Up front, toward the eastern point of the triangle about 350 yards from the bridge, two companies of volunteer artillery from Baltimore took position behind a small breastwork.

  Pinkney’s 150-man Baltimore Rifle Battalion protected the artillery’s right flank, using bushes, a fence, and the slope of the ground for cover. Two companies of Stansbury’s militia, armed with muskets, took position behind the battery, guarding the Georgetown Road. The 5th Maryland was placed in a large apple orchard about fifty yards behind Pinkney’s troops. Two more Maryland militia regiments, the 1st, under Lieutenant Colonel John Ragan, and the 2nd, under Lieutenant Colonel Jonathan Schutz, were farther back in the orchard, supporting the forward troops.

  Considering the hurried placement, the position was relativ
ely strong, taking advantage of the terrain and leaving the units in close support of each other. Pinkney’s men up front were cheered by the sight of the 5th Maryland in their blue uniforms immediately to their rear. For their part, the men of the supporting regiments, many of whom had not eaten since breakfast the day before, were delighted to be in the shade of an orchard.

  Word spread that the British were advancing rapidly, and the men rushed to prepare their positions. The earthworks—a bank of dirt with a ditch in front—had been constructed for heavy guns, but the Baltimore Artillery’s six-pounders were far too small to fire over the high embankment. Stripping off their tunics, the men hastily dug openings in the parapet to allow their smaller guns to fire at the bridge and roads.

  As the dirt flew around the earthworks, an alarm was raised, and the men formed into a line of battle. A cloud of dust had arisen across the river, announcing the rapid approach of a large body of troops.

  EN ROUTE TO BLADENSBURG, MORNING, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 24

  Maryland militia Captain Jenifer Sprigg was saying grace when the order came to forget about breakfast and start marching. The 800 men of Colonel William Beall’s Annapolis militia had departed the state capital for Bladensburg two days earlier, but progress had been slow. They had spent a jittery night retreating in the dark, fearing the British were following. At daylight the regiment resumed the march to Bladensburg. They had stopped briefly to cook breakfast when Beall received word that if they did not hurry, the enemy would get there first. “One half of the poor devils hadn’t taken a mouthful,” Sprigg, adjutant for the regiment, wrote several days later. “I never left anything so much against my will.” The men took off in a gallop.

  Around 11 a.m. the Annapolis militia crested Lowndes Hill and hurried toward the village. As they approached the bridge, the men noted an array of American cannons, rifles, and muskets trained on them from across the river. Every man on the American front line was convinced the approaching troops were British. “They had their matches lighted ready to fire on us, but soon found out their mistake, not seeing any red-coats,” Sprigg wrote. The defenders were ordered to stand down, and the Annapolis men, exhausted after their sixteen-mile march, passed through the American lines.