George Washington's Secret Six Read online

  On August 22, 1776, British troops began pouring onto Long Island while the Americans hunkered down in their positions in Manhattan and in the area of Brooklyn, hoping to protect the mainland of New York City. The record of proceedings from the Provincial Congress for the state of New York show that on Saturday, August 24, 1776, among other motions adopted was the unanimous resolution that “Robert Townsend be a Commissary to supply the Brigade with provisions till such time as Genl Washington shall give further orders for that purpose.” A footnote further identifies the young man named as “Son of Samuel Townsend, the member for Queens County.” According to the following morning’s records, Samuel Senior made further recommendations for the purchasing process by which the newly appointed commissary should supply provisions to Brigadier General Nathaniel Woodhull and the Queens County militia.

  So began Robert Townsend’s whirlwind tenure in the Continental Army. Fighting broke out across Long Island and Manhattan in the early morning hours of the twenty-seventh, just days after Robert’s appointment had been confirmed. The Queens County militia, guarding the ill-fated Jamaica Pass, suffered greatly in battle; their beloved Brigadier General Woodhull was mortally wounded. Robert’s service did not last much beyond the Battle of Brooklyn, nor did his father’s career as a leader for the Patriot cause on Long Island. Samuel was arrested in early September (though he avoided an unpleasant imprisonment when Thomas Buchanan, of the same family for which Solomon was working, vouched for his character). A few days later, on September 10, Samuel was called into court to swear his allegiance to the Crown. He humbly complied and rather meekly returned to the Homestead.

  By the end of 1776, nearly thirteen hundred other men from Queens County had taken that same vow of loyalty, though how many did so under duress is unknowable. Robert followed his father’s example and took the distasteful pledge, too. He left Oyster Bay soon afterward and returned to his quiet life as a merchant in Manhattan, running a modest dry goods shop near the Fly Market in lower Manhattan while the city cleaned up from the great fire that had ravaged it following the retreat of the Americans.

  New York was now solidly in British hands, but it mattered little to Robert. His unobtrusive personality and lack of any distinguishing battlefield heroics during his brief service were perhaps his greatest allies in allowing him to continue to work and prosper in the midst of the enemy. But every man has a breaking point—a moment when he has seen one atrocity too many, weathered one insult too many, stayed still for one day too long—and he knows he must act or hate himself for keeping silent.

  For Robert Townsend, that moment arrived in the fall of 1778. As Abraham Woodhull and his initial ring were beginning their intelligence war against the British in Manhattan and Long Island, the occupying armies were settling in quite comfortably in various private residences including the Homestead, Robert Townsend’s beloved home, in Oyster Bay.

  Lieutenant Colonel John Simcoe, the man who had ordered the beating of Woodhull’s father, decided that the Townsend family’s house fit his purposes quite nicely and proceeded to set up his headquarters in the main part of the home, sequestering the family to just a few back rooms and the shop. At Simcoe’s orders, British troops destroyed the orchard, of which old Samuel had been so proud, to feed British fires and help build a fort. Wood from all over town, including churches and private structures, was commandeered for this effort in a move that was very much in keeping with Simcoe’s reputation as a heartless combatant. The town operated as if under martial law, with roughly 470 enemy soldiers quartering there, including Hessian brute squads that roamed the streets to make sure residents stayed indoors at night. There were public lashings for those who displeased the soldiers and little recourse for those who brought complaints. The town was quickly descending into a simmering chaos, and any lingering Loyalist feelings among the good people of Oyster Bay were rapidly evaporating.

  Old Samuel Townsend’s history of outspoken political opinions was well known to the whole community and likely the cause of his “special” treatment from the Queen’s Rangers. That his house was one of the more comfortably situated and furnished dwellings in the town was a bonus.

  When Robert returned home in November 1778 to visit his family, he was no doubt shocked by his father’s defeated appearance and posture.

  “What has happened to you, Father?” Robert cried upon approaching the house.

  Samuel shook his head. There were too many soldiers around to dare voice any dissatisfaction with the current state of things. “I have been given the honor of playing host to His Majesty’s troops,” he said, somewhat shakily. “Who could have imagined our humble Homestead would be put to such a purpose as this?”

  Tales of hardships and abuses, recounted in hushed tones and with sideways glances, seasoned Robert’s meals during his time at home. He burned with anger as he learned of the wanton liberties taken with neighbors’ properties and lives, but he could only stare in mute fury as he observed how the soldiers, including Colonel Simcoe himself, flirted openly with his sisters under their father’s own roof.

  At the conclusion of his visit, Robert returned to his shop in Manhattan, but he was haunted by what he had seen. The crime, the squalor—these were the unfortunate accessories of city life. Or so he had assumed. But now he had seen that Oyster Bay and countless other towns that dotted Long Island were not immune to the collateral damage of war. Rumors continued to reach him during the spring of atrocities committed by Simcoe and others against unarmed citizens, including the wounds inflicted upon old Richard Woodhull. But what could anyone do? The Townsend family stood as much of a chance of evicting Simcoe from their property as they did of expelling the whole enemy encampment from Long Island. There was no other option. They were in British-held territory, so British laws stood and protesters fell—or hanged.

  The feelings of frustration and helplessness weighed heavily upon Robert. Each day, British soldiers and common New York citizens alike came into his shop to purchase everyday items such as buttons and paper. He knew he would do his family no favors if he took up arms against this army—they would only be labeled as having ties to a belligerent. Besides, Robert was not a fighting man and his previous service had been focused on supply tents, not trenches; his soul was not the sort to be stirred by marching feet keeping time to a fife tune and drumbeat.

  Robert admired the way that his older brother Solomon had found his own way to steer his allegiances. Still sailing for the Loyalist Buchanan family, in 1777 Solomon had carried supplies for the British army to Montreal ahead of the invasion of northern New York. But in the spring of 1778, roughly eight months before Simcoe had commandeered the Townsend family home for his own uses, Solomon had made a calculated move. He left his employment with the Buchanans and had managed to visit with none other than Benjamin Franklin in France. Obtaining a letter from Franklin vouching for his patriotism and fidelity to the American cause, Solomon then boarded an American warship and traveled back across the Atlantic to relaunch his career at home, sailing and trading under the protection of the Continental Army and supplying its troops with much-needed provisions. Robert, meanwhile, was left shaken by his visit home later that fall, and felt the weight of inaction as he walked the streets of occupied New York under the British flag and did business with His Majesty’s troops for such trifles as ribbons and sugar.

  Despite his internal struggles in the months following his return to Manhattan from his trip home to Oyster Bay, Townsend was almost certainly surprised and was not easily won over when Woodhull made his proposal to work as a spy just as a hot, dusty summer was beginning in 1779. He was debating his own role in the struggle for independence, that much was true. But he was not like his brothers, so brashly fearless and ready for any adventure; he was Robert, the quiet one (some might even say the timid one) of the Townsend boys. His was the name all the relations and neighbors forgot when speaking of his family, and he was perfectly content that thin
gs should stay that way.

  CULPER JUNIOR

  It is possible that the notion of spying had already crossed Robert Townsend’s mind before Abraham Woodhull darkened the door of his shop in the late spring of 1779. It may have already been clear to Townsend that he was privy to scraps of conversation between soldiers in his own shop, to noting the flow of supplies and men into and out of the harbor as he inspected his own shipments on the docks, to observing the habits and patterns of the higher-ranking officers who graced James Rivington’s posh new coffeehouse just down the street. It must have been clear to Townsend that his position in the city gave him access to potentially valuable information. But even if such a fancy had introduced itself to his mind, it does not mean it was a welcome thought or one that he relished. And even if he had been eager to undertake such an effort, he would have had no channel for it, no clearly defined plan for how to get such information into the hands of those to whom it meant something—until he found himself across the table from the old acquaintance who offered him a new mission and a new name: Samuel Culper Jr.

  “I have disclosed every secret to you and laid before you every instruction that has been handed to me,” Woodhull said, leaning back in his chair after the long conversation. “I have told you the whole business.”

  Townsend looked at his friend skeptically. Despite their nearness in age, they had never been especially close—both geography and temperament had kept them at a distance from each other. But everyone on Long Island, it seemed, was related to everyone else if you went back a generation or two. Townsend knew their families were connected somehow, and they trusted each other because of it. Even more important than blood ties, though, were ideological ones. Townsend understood that Woodhull had a heart for the cause of liberty, despite his gruff exterior; his trust in Townsend, considering him worthy of such an undertaking, was moving.

  Townsend looked across the table to where Woodhull watched him, his face eager for a decision. He had laid out the nature of the mission—every risk, fright, and sleepless night it had brought him—in painful detail. Townsend knew that if he agreed to join the silent fight by taking over the observations in Manhattan, it would wear him down as much as it had Woodhull. Though they were different in personality (Woodhull somewhat cantankerous and Townsend merely reserved), Townsend suspected they were quite alike in their desire to simply be left in peace. A double life would only erode whatever sense of calm he had managed to create for himself, but he also suspected that denying a chance to fight back would erode his conscience.

  He was frightened—frightened of all the unthinkable possibilities if he were ever found out, frightened that he already knew too much, frightened of what would happen if he sat by and did nothing.

  Townsend reached across the table and shook Woodhull’s hand. It was not without trepidation, but it was a handshake nonetheless.

  The two men talked long into the night, discussing every eventuality, every risk, and every pressing reason why those risks didn’t ultimately matter. Woodhull would add a “Senior” to his code name, and Townsend could become “Culper Junior.” No one need ever know—nor even have the means to discover—the real man behind the intelligence reports.

  Woodhull’s earlier desire for anonymity now paled in comparison to Townsend’s insistence that no one other than Woodhull and the courier, not even General Washington, should be aware of his involvement. Townsend was leery even of the courier knowing his face but relented on the point out of necessity.

  Townsend did not accept the assignment with enthusiasm. However, despite his fear and reluctance, he was also Samuel Townsend’s son. Though he might not share his father’s fiery boldness, he was no less a man of brave conviction. With that conviction hardened by his father’s mistreatment by Simcoe and his men, he was ready to join the ring. Woodhull wrote to Washington on June 20:

  My success hath exceeded my most sanguine expectations. I have communicated my business to an intimate friend. . . . It was with great difficulty I gained his complyance, checked by fear. He is a person that hath the interest of our Country at heart and of good reputation, character and family as any of my acquaintance. I am under the most solomn obligations never to disclose his name to any but the Post, who unavoidably must know it. I have reason to think his advantages for serving you and abilities are far superior to mine.

  WASHINGTON’S ORDERS

  General Washington was delighted with the proposal and, together with Tallmadge, drafted a detailed list of guidelines and directives for his new agent in New York. The full document, included below, offers an intimate perspective on Washington’s philosophies regarding spying, and the specific mission of Culper Junior:

  INSTRUCTIONS.

  C—— Junr, to remain in the City, to collect all the useful information he can—to do this he should mix as much as possible among the officers and Refugees, visit the Coffee Houses, and all public places. He is to pay particular attention to the movements by land and water in and about the city especially. How their transports are secured against attempt to destroy them—whether by armed vessels upon the flanks, or by chains, Booms, or any contrivances to keep off fire Rafts.

  The number of men destined for the defence of the City and Environs, endeavoring to designate the particular corps, and where each is posted.

  To be particular in describing the place where the works cross the Island in the Rear of the City—how many Redoubts are upon the line from River to River, how many Cannon in each, and of what weight and whether the Redoubts are closed or open next the city.

  Whether there are any Works upon the Island of New York between those near the City and the works at Fort Knyphausen or Washington, and if any, whereabouts and of what kind.

  To be very particular to find out whether any works are thrown up on Harlem River, near Harlem Town, and whether Horn’s Hook is fortifyed. If so, how many men are kept at each place, and what number and what sized Cannon are in those works.

  To enquire whether they have dug Pits within and in front of the lines and Works in general, three or four feet deep, in which sharp pointed stakes are fixed. These are intended to receive and wound men who attempt a surprise at night.

  The state of the provisions, Forage and Fuel to be attended to, as also the Health and Spirits of the Army, Navy and City.

  These are the principal matters to be observed within the Island and about the City of New York. Many more may occur to a person of C—— Junr’s penetration which he will note and communicate.

  C—— Senior’s station to be upon Long Island to receive and transmit the intelligence of C—— Junior.

  As it is imagined that the only post of consequence which the enemy will attempt to hold upon Long Island in case of attack will be at Brooklyn, I would recommend that some inhabitant in the neighborhood of that place, and seemingly in the interest of the enemy, should be procured, who might probably gain daily admission into the Garrison by carrying on marketing, and from him intelligence might be gained every day or two of what was passing within, as the strength of the Garrison, the number and size of the Cannon, & c.

  Proper persons to be procured at convenient distances along the Sound from Brooklyn to Newtown whose business it shall be to observe and report what is passing upon the water, as whether any Vessels or Boats with troops are moving, their number and which way they seem bound.

  There can be scarcely any need of recommending the greatest Caution and secrecy in a Business so critical and dangerous. The following seem to be the best general rules:

  To intrust none but the persons fixed upon to transact the Business.

  To deliver the dispatches to none upon our side but those who shall be pitched upon for the purpose of receiving them and to transmit them and any intelligence that may be obtained to no one but the Commander-in-Chief.

  Washington thought Brooklyn was the one place on Long Island that the British would rega
rd as indispensable. Because the Culper Ring’s route of conveying messages passed directly from Manhattan to Brooklyn, before continuing on to Setauket and across the Sound to Connecticut, the courier would have an excellent opportunity to observe military activity in Brooklyn and could add any relevant information to the letter he was carrying from Townsend. In short, the route seemed as close to an ideal arrangement as Washington could hope for at the time.

  SHOPKEEPER AND REPORTER

  Robert Townsend’s career as a spy began in that summer of 1779. His fears of the courier knowing his identity proved largely needless—Woodhull himself (at least at first) seems to have been the primary person who retrieved Townsend’s reports to begin their circuitous route to General Washington. Woodhull’s name appears in the ledger of Townsend’s store several times during that season: July 18, August 15, and August 31. And they certainly saw each other more often than that. A letter to Tallmadge from Woodhull on July 9 reveals that the pair had recently met, and in a letter to Washington dated July 15, Townsend wrote: “I saw S. C. [Samuel Culper] Senr. a few days ago, and informed him of the arrival of 10 sail of vessels from the West Indies, with Rum, &c. and a small fleet from Halifax, but no Troops.”

  In fact, Townsend’s detailed reports on naval activities were far more precise than any Woodhull had been able to provide, but Townsend’s difficulties with obtaining good troop counts for the army reveal how seriously he took his work. “I am sorry that I cannot give you an exact account of the situation of the troops,” he penned on August 6:

  You may think that I have not taken sufficient pains to obtain it. I assure you that I have, and find it more difficult than I expected. It is some measure owing to my not having got into a regular line of getting intelligence. To depend upon common reports would not do. I saw and conversed with two officers of different corps from Kings-bridge from neither of whom I could obtain an account of the situation of the army there. I was afraid of being too particular.