Recalling Meigs Raid on Sag Harbor

In the middle of a dark night on May 24, 1777, a group of 200 rebels attacked the British Redcoats in Sag Harbor. It was the only military action in the Revolutionary War to take place in the Hamptons. And then-Gen. General George Washington, encamped in New Jersey after suffering many consecutive defeats, was so delighted with the outcome when told of it, offered to meet the man who led it and give him a ceremonial “presentation sword” for making it happen.

The action resulted in the capture of 90 Redcoats, the death of six more, the burning of all the British ships at Long Wharf, the arrest of their officers in a residence where the American Hotel sits today, a charge up a hill to overwhelm a British fort with cannons meant to protect the redcoats and their activities at the wharf and after a 45-minute exchange of fire between rebels bearing muskets on the beach and sailors aboard a 20-gun British war sloop trying to bring more redcoats to shore, a further British loss.

The rebels, with prisoners in tow, vanished into the night. No rebels were killed or injured. And sunrise revealed the entire British presence in the harbor as a smoking ruin.

Also astonishing was the reason rebels decided to make this attack. Among the battles that Washington’s Army fought and lost in the year prior to 1777 were the Battle of Brooklyn, a fight at White Plains, and a British attack at Danbury, Connecticut, where rebel munitions were stored. There, in spite of rebel resistance, the Redcoats burned that place to the ground.

This was 100 miles from Sag Harbor. But the rebels in Danbury wanted revenge. And meanwhile, with the British occupying Manhattan and Long Island, they knew Sag Harbor was the favored port of entry for supplies brought in from England. Why not do to them what they just did to us?

The rebels wanted local rebels to attack Sag Harbor. But since the British now occupied Long Island, almost all rebels had fled to Connecticut. So Connecticut would have to do it. Washington approved the operation, then assigned a Connecticut corporal, Return Jonathan Meigs, to lead it.

Meigs had never been to Sag Harbor, and so he needed a Long Islander in Connecticut to tell him the best way to go about it. He found a Sergeant Elnathan Jennings, born and raised in Sag Harbor, who knew every tree, hill, and pond in town.

You can’t just row whaleboats the 20 miles across Long Island to Sag Harbor, Jennings said. British gunboats are everywhere. But the eastern end of Long Island has a fish tail. One’s called North Fork and the other South Fork. Sag Harbor sits on the South Fork facing a bay that separates the two forks. Row across Long Island Sound and land on the North Fork — north of where Sag Harbor is across the way. From there, he knew a secret back way into Sag Harbor. And it would only take a few hours.

Meigs did exactly what Jennings told him.

The 200 men, including Jennings, set out in 13 whaleboats from Guilford, Connecticut into Long Island Sound just after sunset on May 23, 1777. Accompanied by three sloops, they rowed southeast across Long Island Sound, arriving at a place where the North Fork is very narrow, known today as Truman Beach. It was 11 p.m.  In the darkness, the rebels picked up their whaleboats and carried them the 100 yards across this spit of land to the bay beach, then relaunched them there.

Rowing now southwest, not southeast, they went around Shelter Island — out of view of any Man ‘o Wars — to slide up the sand at Long Beach about where it meets Noyac Road today. It was 1 a.m.

Tying up the boats, they marched south down Noyac Road to where it meets Brick Kiln Road, then marched east past Otter Pond to arrive at a British outpost that Jennings said was where he went to school as a boy. Attaching bayonets to their rifles, they woke the sentries there and took them prisoner. Continuing on into town from this back way, they split up.

One group charged up the hill to overwhelm the Redcoats manning the cannons, another group walked into town to wake and arrest the two British officers asleep there. And a third group, about 40 men, marched to Long Wharf to set everything on fire: The store houses, ships, goods and offices, then woke every sleeping British soldier in the barracks — some wearing pajamas, longjohns, breeches, unbuttoned shirts, all disheveled and hungover from some earlier party — all mentioned in the letter sent to Washington describing the victory. And from there, they marched their 90 prisoners to their whaleboats at Long Wharf and the row home to Connecticut.

What a triumph. Washington had been defeated at Brooklyn just 52 days after the Declaration of Independence, he’d sent an army north to capture Quebec and failed. (Meigs was there, led a division, got captured, jailed by the British for six months, then set free as part of a prisoner swap — to then immediately re-enlist.) Washington also failed trying to capture Fort Montgomery and Fort Clinton.

After the war, an attempt was made to find out what happened to Elnathan Jennings. Washington, when he’d read the Sag Harbor report, ordered Jennings promoted. Though never located, a war record showed he never did get promoted but remained a sergeant for the duration until mustered out in 1779. And the trail ended there.

And here’s the answer to a question always asked about Return Jonathan Meigs. His grandfather, a founder of the hat shop, was named Janna Meigs.   One day he fell in love with Hanna Willard. He got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. She replied “I respect you sir, but will not marry you.” But as he was sadly mounting his horse, she had a change of heart. “Return, Janna,” she said. They had nine children. One of them was given the name Return Jonathan Meigs. His son was Return Jonathan Meigs Jr.  That was this fellow. The Meigs family, by the way, gave children very interesting names.  Meet Mercy, Thankful, Concurrence, Recompence, Wait-Still, Silence and Submit among others. Anybody in Sag Harbor a descendant of Elnathan Jennings?

The North Sea Maritime Center is an independent nonprofit. In an article in this column several weeks ago, it was erroneously reported to be a subsidiary of the Southampton History Museum. We regret the error.

Read more of Dan Rattiner’s stories.