The closest we could get was ten yards from the riverbank. All thirty-one batteaux must be offloaded by hand in waist-deep water. The cargo is passed from one Rifleman to another in the same fashion as firemen pass water buckets to put out a fire.

When each 400-pound vessel is finally empty, ten to twelve Riflemen drag it over the rocks to the riverbank. There, it is turned upside down and a six-man team carries it on their shoulders, staggering and stumbling, more than a half-mile up the portage where it can be put back in the water, and reloaded.

Thirty-one times we did this. Every Rifleman in our three companies was soaked in the bone-chilling water and exhausted carrying the boats and cargo uphill for more than a half mile. I saw both women from the Pennsylvania Rifle Companies struggling up the slippery rocks with canvas-wrapped provisions. They did not stop until the men did.

By the time the sun was dipping below the towering pines around us, we were encamped above Ticonic Falls close enough to hear the roaring water over the crackling of three huge bonfires. As I was lighting a lantern to make an entry in our official journal, Corporal Sullivan and his courier team arrived at the river’s edge.

He jumped out of the canoe, walked over, and said, “Message delivered to Lieutenant Colonel Greene, sir. Does Captain Morgan want me to have our men set up his tent?”

Out of the twilight we heard, “Not tonight, Sully.” It was Captain Morgan, accompanied by 1st Lt. Humphrey. “The Reconnaissance party we sent up the river a few hours ago just returned. They report our next challenge is just ahead. The Indians call it ‘Five Mile Ripples.’ The white men call it ‘Five Mile Falls.’

“Whichever it is, we need to get through it tomorrow. That means we need to be moving at dawn.”

Five Mile Falls, Maine, on the Kennebec River

Friday, September 29th, 1775

There was just a sliver of waxing moon when the “boatmen” reported to their batteaux this morning. The “walkers” were granted an extra half hour of rest, for the narrow path they are following along the riverbank is dangerous enough in daylight but treacherous in the dark.

Captain Morgan, 1st Lt. Humphrey, the Indian we call “Luke” (because he can write), Corporal Sullivan, Privates Kilgannon and Eisenbach, and I loaded our rifles and haversacks into our canoe. The seven of us led the thirty-one batteaux to the base of the watercourse. The reconnaissance party we sent out yesterday afternoon recommended we try going through the rough water rather than around it because Thursday’s portage took all day to go little more than a half mile.