Putnam’s position was a perilous one.  The configuration of Manhattan Island is such that the British could land a force from the East River, throw it across the narrow width of the island, and cut off retreat from below.  The only trust lay in the shore batteries, and they proved useless.

A British landing was made at Kip’s Bay, about three miles above the city, where were works strong enough to have kept off the enemy for a long time, had they been well defended.  As it was, the garrison fled in a panic, on the bare appearance of the British transports.  At the same time three ships of war moved up the Hudson to Bloomingdale, and attacked the works there.

The flight of the Kip’s Bay garrison left Putnam in the most imminent peril.  He had about three thousand men, and a dangerous incumbrance of women, children, camp-followers, and baggage.  The weather was very hot, the roads were narrow; everything tended to make the retreat difficult and perilous.  The instant he heard of the unlooked-for cowardice of the Kip’s Bay garrison and the landing of the enemy, he put his men in motion, and strained every nerve to push them past the point of danger before his channel of escape should be closed.

Safety seemed a forlorn hope.  The British had landed in force above him.  A rapid march would quickly bring them to the Hudson.  The avenue of exit would be closed.  The danger of capture was extreme.  It was averted by one of those striking incidents of which so many give interest to the history of war.  In this case it was a woman whose coolness and quick wit proved the salvation of Putnam’s imperilled army.

Sir Henry Clinton, having fairly landed his men at Kip’s Bay, put them quickly into motion to cut off Putnam’s retreat.  In his march for this object, his route lay along the eastern side of Murray Hill, where was the residence of Mrs. Murray, mother of Lindley Murray, the grammarian, and a most worthy old Quaker lady.  Putnam had sent her word, some time before, of his perilous situation, begging her, if possible, to detain General Clinton, by entertaining him and his officers.  If their march could be hindered for an hour it would be an invaluable service.

The patriotic old lady was quick to respond.  Many of the British officers knew her, and when she appeared, with a welcoming smile, at her door, and cordially invited them to step in and take a friendly glass of wine, the offer was too tempting to be refused.  Exhausted with the heat and with the labor of disembarking, they were only too glad to halt their columns for a short rest, and follow her into her comfortable dining-room.  Here Mrs. Murray and the ladies of her family exerted themselves to entertain their guests.  The wine proved excellent.  The society and conversation of the ladies were a delightful change from the duties of the camp.  The minutes became an hour before the guests dreamed of the flight of time.

At length a negro servant, who had been on the lookout from the housetop, entered the room, made a significant sign to his mistress, and at once withdrew.  Mrs. Murray now rose, and with a meaning smile turned to her titled guest.