tten. Nothing that he could do
was left undone. Unceasingly he urged action upon Congress, and at the
same time with indomitable fighting spirit he planned to attack the
British. It was a desperate undertaking in the face of such heavy odds,
for in all his divisions he had only some six thousand men, and even
these were scattered. The single hope was that by his own skill and
courage he could snatch victory from a situation where victory seemed
impossible. With the instinct of a great commander he saw that his only
chance was to fight the British detachments suddenly, unexpectedly,
and separately, and to do this not only required secrecy and perfect
judgment, but also the cool, unwavering courage of which, under such
circumstances, very few men have proved themselves capable. As Christmas
approached his plans were ready. He determined to fall upon the British
detachment of Hessians, under Colonel Rahl, at Trenton, and there strike
his first blow. To each division of his little army a part in the
attack was assigned with careful forethought. Nothing was overlooked and
nothing omitted, and then, for some reason good or bad, every one of
the division commanders failed to do his part. As the general plan was
arranged, Gates was to march from Bristol with two thousand men; Ewing
was to cross at Trenton; Putnam was to come up from Philadelphia; and
Griffin was to make a diversion against Donop. When the moment came,
Gates, who disapproved the plan, was on his way to Congress; Griffin
abandoned New Jersey and fled before Donop; Putnam did not attempt
to leave Philadelphia; and Ewing made no effort to cross at Trenton.
Cadwalader came down from Bristol, looked at the river and the
floating ice, and then gave it up as desperate. Nothing remained except
Washington himself with the main army, but he neither gave up, nor
hesitated, nor stopped on account of the ice, or the river, or the
perils which lay beyond. On Christmas Eve, when all the Christian
world was feasting and rejoicing, and while the British were enjoying
themselves in their comfortable quarters, Washington set out. With
twenty-four hundred men he crossed the Delaware through the floating ice,
his boats managed and rowed by the sturdy fishermen of Marblehead from
Glover's regiment. The crossing was successful, and he landed about nine
miles from Trenton. It was bitter cold, and the sleet and snow drove
sharply in the faces of the troops. Sullivan, marching by the river