Arnold’s voice was contemptuous. “But the main point is this: the British are twelve miles from us—only twelve miles! In three days they’ll have their full force in St. John’s—half a day’s march; and they’ll be ready to move. It’s beyond me why they haven’t moved already! If I had command of that British force, I’d take you and every one of your men prisoners today—this afternoon! Either that, or I’d wipe you out! That’s how strong your position is, General!”

He paused, and in my imagination I could see him staring with pale eyes at General Sullivan. The barn was so silent that I heard the rustling of a wasp, investigating, with palpitating rump, a knot-hole close to Wilkinson’s shoulder.

“There’s a road from St. John’s to this island,” Arnold went on. “How in the name of God do you propose to stay here with that road undefended? There’s no way of doing it, General! They can take us, just like reaching into a henhouse and taking a sick hen at midnight! All they need to do is send a few light guns—a few four-pounders—past us. I don’t have to tell you what would happen, General! They’d cut off our line of communications! There’d never be another ounce of provisions reach us—never another ounce! Then you’d have two choices: starve or surrender!”

Sullivan cleared his throat. “We could strengthen the old French entrenchments. We’ve still got men able to do duty.”

“Yes,” Arnold said, “but you won’t have ’em long! Last night twenty-seven officers locked themselves in a hut with a barrel of rum, and drank themselves blind so they wouldn’t have to listen to the groaning of the dying men they couldn’t help! Get these men out of here, General, while you’re still able to move ’em—while they’re still able to move themselves! Don’t for God’s sake turn the whole island into one big dead pit! Get ’em to Crown Point, where they’ll be of some value to the United Colonies. They’re worth nothing as British prisoners! Dead, they’re worth even less! Get ’em away and give us a chance to fight! We haven’t got it here! No matter what you say, we haven’t got it here!”

When Sullivan spoke, I wondered what in God’s name was in his head in place of brains, and I longed to have him on board ship, where I could pound some sense into that iron skull with a belaying pin. “With men able to do duty,” Sullivan said, “I can’t in honor abandon this position. Considering the desire of General Washington and the Congress, I cannot retreat farther—not on my own responsibility.”