“Of course we expected something of the kind, especially after hearing that the British had landed on the island, but I didn’t feel overly comfortable in mind at the idea of snuffing gunpowder when bullets were mixed with it. However, I held my tongue, went to quarters, packed my belongings, and got myself in readiness for a move as soon as possible. “When we had marched to the ferry I saw several casks of sea-bread, which was nearly as hard as musket-flints, and heard our captain give the word for us to take as many as we could carry comfortably. As good luck would have it, we made a short halt before the boats came up, and I filled the bosom of my shirt with the hard biscuits, also taking as many as could be carried in my hands, putting these last in my knapsack while we were going across. “After landing at Brooklyn we marched up the hill from the ferry, and had not got very far when we began to meet wounded men, some with broken legs, and some with broken heads. Sights like those made me feel mighty uncomfortable; but I held my peace lest my comrades should think me a coward. After marching three or four miles we were halted to give us a chance to gnaw at the flinty biscuit, which were enough to break the teeth of a rat. “Before we had finished the not overly pleasing meal, a squad of British came up through the thicket and engaged fifty or more of our Connecticut troops, and it didn’t make a fellow feel very comfortable in mind, knowing that within a short time he also would march up to be shot at. “The skirmish was short-lived, and then we were ordered to march once more. After traveling about half a mile we came upon a small party of artillerymen dragging a heavy twelve-pounder on a field-carriage, the wheels of which sank deep in the sandy soil. They pleaded hard for some one to help them haul the piece. Our officers gave no heed to their entreaties, but urged us forward towards a creek, where a large party of Americans and British were engaged. “By the time we arrived the enemy had driven our men into the creek, or, perhaps, you might call it a mill-pond, and such as could swim got across, while those who could not, and who failed of finding anything to buoy them up, went to the bottom. The British had three or four field-pieces stationed near a brick house, and these were pouring cannister and grape into our people like showers of hail. Many more would have been killed but for the twelve-pounder, which, being got in position, opened such a fire that the red-coats were forced to shift their quarters.