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of diverse vessels, none of which might be found in any real navy: the sturdy flat-bottomed “Durham boats,” made originally to transport iron ore; a handful of scows; all manner of fishermen’s craft; and the two ferryboats that had regularly plied this Delaware crossing in times of peace. All of them would be needed.
    The men would cross the Delaware first, mostly aboard the fairly spacious Durham boats. Then would come skittish horses, and, finally, all eighteen pieces of Henry Knox’s cumbersome and heavy, yet crucial and powerful, artillery: three-pounders, four-pounders, five-and-a-half-pounders, and six-pounders. Despite its name, a six-pounder’s barrel and carriage alone could weigh as much as 1,750 pounds.
    A journey of a mere eight hundred feet would take hours. But everything had to proceed on the tightest of schedules. The Continental Army needed to invade Trenton before daylight to maintain any hope of surprise.
    Every minute lost could cost a life. Every hour lost could lose the battle. The battle lost could forfeit the revolution.
    Yet, despite the obvious pressure, Washington paused to complete one last task. Two days earlier he had read from a pamphlet. Its words rang like a siren. They roared like a cannonade. His men needed to hear those words, and they needed to hear them now.
    In the freezing air at Knowles Cove, Washington distributed a dozen bound copies of this little work to his officers. “Read this—or have it read to your men. They are better words than I am capable of. Read them now, before we depart.”
    General Knox chose to read the words himself. Famous for his booming voice, Knox calculated that he could best bellow out whatever his commander thought so necessary for his men to hear. Never send out a man to do a job you could better do yourself, thought Knox.
    General Henry Knox cleared his throat and began to proclaim the words that Tom Paine had scribbled out upon a drumhead not long ago and then galloped so quickly back to Philadelphia to print:
These are the times that try men’s souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.
    When Knox had finished, his final words echoing across the land, only silence remained. The icy breath of the soldiers filled the air.
    Finally, Washington broke the silence. “All right, men,” he bellowed, his voice firm with resolve. “It’s time to go.”
    December 25, 1776
    Mount Holly, New Jersey
    Colonel Carl Emilius von Donop savored his Christmas dinner—the finest meats and vegetables, served upon a modest lace tablecloth, eaten not with pewter, but with sterling silver utensils. Across the Delaware River, American recruits had no time for feasting. Drums were beating, and men assembling, for a march toward the unknown.
    But there was none of that at Mount Holly, only Colonel von Donop and his very gracious and beautiful—and
so very accommodating
—hostess. Von Donop, a man known for his appreciation of the fairer sex, could not believe his own luck. While every other female in the community had fled the approach of his troops, this incredible beauty, this young widow, had chosen to remain.
    Ah! thought von Donop. The fortunes of war!
    “
Colonel
von Donop,” asked his adjutant, a large but nervous young man named Captain Johann Ewald, “might we be leaving soon for Bordentown? We have been here since Monday.”
    Bordentown, where they’d be close enough to support Colonel Rall’s troops in Trenton should any difficulties arise, was their ultimate destination. But Colonel von Donop wasn’t ready to get going just yet.
    “Don’t worry,
Captain
!” von Donop barked. Then he softened his tone as he eyed his newfound companion, who was ever so slyly