It was, indeed, an anxious moment for all.

Boats being in readiness, the troops began to cross about sunset. The
weather was intensely cold, the wind was high, the current strong, and
the river full of floating ice. Colonel Glover, with his amphibious
regiment of Marblehead fishermen, was in advance. They were men
accustomed to battle with the elements, yet with all their skill and
experience the crossing was difficult and perilous. The night was dark
and tempestuous, the drifting ice drove the boats out of their course,
and threatened them with destruction. It was three o'clock before the
artillery was landed, and nearly four before the troops took up their
line of march. Trenton was nine miles distant; and not to be reached
before daylight. To surprise it, therefore, was out of the question.
There was no making a retreat without being discovered and harassed in
repassing the river. Beside, the troops from the other points might
have crossed, and co-operation was essential to their safety.
Washington resolved to push forward and trust to Providence. He formed
the troops into two columns. The first he led himself, accompanied by
Greene, Stirling, Mercer, and Stephen; it was to make a circuit by the
upper or Pennington road, to the north of Trenton. The other, led by
Sullivan, and including the brigade of St. Clair, was to take the
lower river leading to the west end of the town. Sullivan's column was
to halt a few moments at a cross-road leading to Howland's Ferry to
give Washington's column time to effect its circuit, so that the
attack might be simultaneous. On arriving at Trenton they were to
force the outer guards and push directly into the town before the
enemy had time to form.

It began to hail and snow as the troops commenced their march, and
increased in violence as they advanced, the storm driving the sleet in
their faces. So bitter was the cold that two of the men were frozen to
death that night. The day dawned by the time Sullivan halted at the
cross-road. It was discovered that the storm had rendered many of the
muskets wet and useless. "What is to be done?" inquired Sullivan of
St. Clair. "You have nothing for it but to push on and use the
bayonet," was the reply. While some of the soldiers were endeavoring
to clear their muskets, and squibbing off priming, Sullivan despatched
an officer to apprise the commander-in-chief of the condition of their
arms. He came back half dismayed by an indignant burst of