Girl bravely rides to warn Colonials

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By Peter Cliffe SPECIAL TO THE WASHINGTON TIMES

On the night of April 17, 1775, a Bostonian, much involved in observing British troop movements, began a journey that would make him forever famous.

Silversmith, copperplate printer, bell maker and even false-teeth maker, Paul Revere had been involved in the Boston Tea Party. His ride to Lexington carried news that the British were coming. Spreading the word on his way, he reached Lexington and delivered his warning to Samuel Adams and John Hancock. He then set off for Concord, ran into a British patrol and had his horse confiscated. He was permitted to walk back to Lexington.

Revere's famous ride may have ended somewhat prematurely, but he had done his work well. In 1863, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow saluted this resolute patriot in "Paul Revere's Ride," one of the poet's "Tales of a Wayside Inn."

"The fate of a nation was riding that night," Longfellow wrote.

Revere thoroughly deserves his place in American history, but another courageous American has been ill-served by those who write books about the Revolutionary War. Revere was 40 at the time of his journey, but she was a girl of 16. Very young she may have been, but her determination and courage mean that she should be honored, too. As far as I am aware, there has never been a poem or a song about Sybil Ludington.

Born at Patterson, Putnam County, N.Y., on April 5, 1761, she was the eldest of 12 children born to Henry and Abigail Ludington. On the stormy night of April 26, 1777, she is said to have been putting her younger siblings to bed when the family had a visitor. Close to exhaustion, a messenger had come to tell her father that the British were at Danbury, Conn., some 25 miles away, and that they had set fire to the town. Help was urgently needed.

Henry Ludington was a colonel commanding the 7th Dutchess County Militia, a volunteer force drawn from local farmers. He was a mill owner in Kent, N.Y., where his family lived. In earlier years, he had seen active service in the French and Indian War. In the current struggle, he was an aide to George Washington at the Battle of White Plains (1776).

He was a good man to lead his troops, but there was nothing he could do to save Danbury. There, substantial stores of vitally needed foodstuffs and munitions had been poorly guarded. Rum had been in the warehouse, too, and the British had availed themselves of this to such an extent that the drunken soldiers caused a breakdown of discipline.

Col. Ludington had to assemble his men and leave as soon as possible. He would be taking on a vastly superior foe. On April 25, 1777, a 2,000-strong British force, supported by a fleet of transport vessels and six warships, had arrived at Fairfield, Conn., near the mouth of the Saugatuck River.

Eventually, Ludington's militia joined the main body of troops, and the British, defeated at Ridgefield, were driven back to their vessels in Long Island Sound. But before that victory, the local countrymen had to be alerted. Who could be spared to do this? The messenger was at the end of his strength, and besides he was unfamiliar with the local terrain.

Sybil volunteered, and her father agreed (probably with misgivings). He was exposing his daughter to considerable danger. It was a cold and very wet night, and the roads, little more than tracks, would be atrocious. Even worse, the countryside was infested by lawless men who would show no mercy to a girl who was traveling alone. Loyalist or British troops might also be encountered. But time was passing, and the alarm had to be sounded.

On her newly acquired pony, Star, Sybil set off on her hazardous journey. It took her through the little towns of Carmel, Mahopac and Stormville. Throughout her journey, she shouted warnings of the danger from British troops and for the need of farmers to rally round their colonel. They did so, enabling Ludington to assemble his men and join the main force.

Her mission accomplished, Sybil returned home in the early hours of the following morning. She had ridden for at least 40 miles, and she and her pony must have been very tired. But she had proved to all who knew what she had done what a very courageous young woman she was.

Sybil Ludington became a messenger for the remainder of the war. In October 1784, when she was 23, she married Edward Ogden, a lawyer, and they settled in Unadilla, N.Y., where they had six children. She became an active member of her local Baptist church. She was 77 when she died on Feb. 26, 1839, and was buried in the family plot at Maple Avenue Cemetery in Patterson.

But here an unresolved mystery presents itself. What really was her given name? True, variations in spelling were common in her time, but here the differences are remarkable. Apparently, she never spelled her name as Sibyl. When she applied for her Revolutionary War pension, she called herself Sebal. In the census of 1810, she is listed as Sibel, and on her grave memorial she is Sibbell.

Whatever the spelling of her name, her place is American history is assured, even though present-day writers on the Revolutionary War pass her by. At least the U.S. Postal Service recognized her worth. In a series of stamps collectively known as "Contributors to the Cause," she is seen mounted on Star and riding through the Connecticut countryside. She is described as a "youthful heroine."

If he heard of her long ride, and he probably did, for he kept himself very well-informed, Paul Revere would surely have agreed. But it is a pity Longfellow - or maybe Ralph Waldo Emerson - didn't think up a poem about her. After all, Emerson did write "The Concord Hymn." But perhaps personal satisfaction for a job well done would be sufficient for that indomitable young woman who was Sybil Ludington.

• Peter Cliffe, a retired corporate administrator, lives in Hertfordshire, England. He became interested in the Civil War while working with a multinational firm in this country.