Truth, Betsy Ross, and the Rabbit Hole of the American Revolution 250 Years Ago

With family stories, it’s easy to expand on details to appeal to an audience. Family historians may have to rein in the enthusiasm to find the extraordinary stories that lie dormant. Stories250

This is my first attempt at a Stories250 post. I was already so impressed with the breadth of this community's contributions that I recently extended it with an interactive timeline and map. I hope you’ll explore these stories and enjoy them as I have. Just search the web for [Substack.com “Stories250”].

Do YOU have one to add to the timeline & map? ⮕ Message me 🤙.

The Itch of Curiosity

Like many family historians, I was drawn to genealogy by the itch of curiosity. As a child, I was told stories about ancestors, many framed as morality tales. All were said to be true. Over time, I learned that most of these stories had come from a book my grandmother had self-published in the “begats” style typical of vanity publications of an earlier era.

There were no footnotes or citations. Though I expect they exist, I have not found any files, record sheets, or archives. In time, I’ve come to appreciate her book as a treasure map.¹ Some passages were easily validated with certificates and documentation I found online. Other bits reflected fables and aspirations. The trick is to sort between them. Obligatory statements of goodness wrapped family history into neat packages.

The phrase, “they met all life’s tasks marvelously,” is a favorite.

Over time, I’ve discovered that the book reflected nineteen-fifties sensibilities as perfectly as a mid-century modern dining set. I was getting to know Lois Harger, the maternal grandmother I’d never met. She was lovely.

In this context, I was ready to question many of the stories I’d been told. Surprisingly, online databases, digital archives, and newspaper databases have validated the broad strokes of my grandmother’s narrative. Eight or more of our ancestors immigrated to this country in the early to mid-seventeenth century. We have straightforward connections to a dozen or more Revolutionary War veterans. They were in the right place at the right time.

Looking at these men, women, and their families: what did they do during the war? What were their stories?

Descended from Betsy Ross: Yeah, Not True

In one of my first forays into research, I debunked a myth that virtually every one of my cousins had been told as a child:

“We are descended from Betsy Ross.”

Except that’s not true, nor could it be.

Poster for the American film Betsy Ross (1917) with Alice Brady in the lead.

First, modern historians have debunked the legend of Betsy stitching the American flag. Further, our connection to the story breaks down faster than an ice cube in July.

Betsy Griscom (1752-1836) was a real person. She was a Ross because her first husband, John Ross (1752-1776), was killed in a gunpowder explosion in an ammunition dump before the marriage produced any children. (If Wikipedia is to be believed, anyway.)

As DAR genealogists seem to have to explain frequently, Betsy Ross had no Ross-family descendants.

But there’s more. Her John Ross wasn’t our John Ross. Many Scotsmen immigrated to America before the Revolutionary War. The John Ross that Betsy married wasn’t one of our ancestors. Our guy was about 100 years older and the son of a different George Ross. Our John Ross (1660-1702) was the son of “a” George Ross (1629-1709), just not a nephew to “the” Col. George Ross (1730-1779), delegate from Pennsylvania to Congress, and signer of both the Declaration of Independence and the Articles of Association.

Our George, a Scotsman, was captured in the Battle of Dunbar and brought to America as a prisoner of Cromwell’s forces in or around 1650. His son, John, had been gone for fifty years by the time Betsy was born. Interestingly, our John was also the grandfather and great-grandfather of two men who did fight in the Revolutionary War: David Ross (1720-1795) and Ezekiel Ross (1756-1845).

Now, I was curious about their stories. Let’s start with the father, David.

The Other Ross: David Ross (1720-1795)

Who were these rebels? What motivated them to fight in the American Revolution? What did they actually do? My sixth great-grandfather, David Ross, was a sergeant nearing age 60 when an engagement in the winter of 1776 led Congress to note his laudable and exemplary contributions to the cause.

I’ll need access to the Military records index 1775-1783 at the FamilySearch Library in Salt Lake City to explore his career as a private. I’ll focus instead on his brief encounter with Britain’s Blue Mountain Valley transport ship in January 1776. This wasn’t heroism on the scale of those who fought at Bunker Hill, Lexington, or Yorktown. No blood was actually shed. I like the story because it reveals our rebels' creative solutions to leverage British weaknesses.

One of Britain’s biggest challenges was managing the logistics of supply lines that stretched across the Atlantic to Britain. By the fall of 1775, the British had won the Battle of Bunker Hill but suffered enormous losses in a bloody battle. In the following months, the smaller, more agile Continental Army laid siege to the British garrison at Boston. Meanwhile, British military planners in London started planning an attack in the Spring. Maj. Gen. William Howe and his troops were left to hunker down for the winter on a peninsula in Boston, dependent on mercantile transport ships for food.

A mostly accurate hand-colored map depicting the 1775 Battles of Lexington and Concord and the Siege of Boston. J. DeCosta - From the Library of Congress American Memory.

Naval correspondence from September² described the plan to send a fleet of transport ships to Boston Harbor to supply the besieged garrison, including the Blue Mountain Valley, a transport ship under contract with the British Treasury. Unfortunately for the Blue Mountain Valley and her crew, their plans collided with fierce storms as they crossed the North Atlantic.

The typical four-to-eight-week crossing took nearly thirteen weeks. On Thursday, January 18, 1776, the battered crew of sixteen sailors finally sighted land off Egg Harbor, New Jersey. They were over 250 nautical miles south of their destination. The transport captain, James Hamilton Dempster, under strict orders not to enter a port without contacting a British Navy ship, made for Sandy Hook at the entrance of New York Harbor.³

“A Draught of New York from the Hook to New York Town” by Mark Tiddeman, published by Mount and Page, 1742. Source: David Rumsey davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~332820~90101179#.

After a day of waiting for the sighting of a British ship, the Blue Mountain Valley crew signaled the Sandy Hook Lighthouse for the aid of a local pilot. The call was answered by a whaling skiff sent from the lighthouse. Captain Dempster responded not with a request for a pilot but with a request that his man be taken to shore. The crew of the whaling skiff returned to shore with First Mate Joseph Woolcombe carrying confidential letters and the instructions from Captain Dempster to go…

“up to New York (in case there were any of the Kings Ships of War there) in order to get some Intelligence or directions from them” on how to proceed, and “whether he could be furnished with a Pilot or Convoy.”⁴

Dempster planned that if Woolcombe did not return within 24 hours, the Blue Mountain Valley would depart without him and the needed retrofit.

The Continental Army anticipated the approach of unarmed transport ships. The whaling skiff that responded was piloted by a confederate, William Henry Dobbs, a lookout for the New York Committee of Safety. When he returned to port, Dobbs and Woolcombe were captured by New York Committee of Safety guards and immediately reported.⁵

Now, we finally get to New Jersey’s part.

The New York Committee of Safety realized that to avoid detection by the British warships in the harbor, they had to bring in their New Jersey counterparts. The call was answered by Col. William Alexander, known as “Lord Stirling.”⁶ From his headquarters on Newark Bay in Elizabeth Town, New Jersey, Lord Stirling was already raising and organizing the first two New Jersey Continental regiments authorized by Congress. With an opportunity for glory, he immediately set out for Amboy, near the mouth of the Raritan River, to procure a boat.

Sandy Hook, from the lighthouses. Dated between circa 1760 and circa 1872. Source: digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/510d47da-2f0b-a3d9-e040-e00a18064a99

On January 24th, Lord Stirling set off from Amboy, New Jersey, in his shallop⁷ with a pilot and forty men in the early morning darkness. To his surprise, he was joined by three other shallops from Elizabeth Town, each with forty men. These men were the recruits, including my 6th great-grandfather, David Ross, as a sergeant in the crew. As Lord Stirling later described the scene in a report to John Hancock:

“I thought it a Matter of so much Importance that I immediately set out for Amboy, and there Seized a pilot Boat and with forty Men was Just pushing out about two yesterday Morning when I was Joined by three other Boats from Elizabeth Town with about forty Men Each, many of them Gent from Elizabeth Town who Voluntarily Came on this Service under the Command of Col [Elias] Dayton & Col [Edward] Thomas, we found her about Six leagues S.E. of Sandy Hook we Boarded & took her without opposition she proves to be the Blue Mountain Valley Commanded by Capt. James Hamilton Dempster laden with Coal Porter & Sour-Crout &c”⁸

When Captain Dempster from the Blue Mountain Valley saw the four shallops approaching in the dawn light, we have to think he assumed they were from the squadron of Royal Navy ships assembling in New York harbor. You tend to see what you expect to see. Wearing the coat of a British naval officer, Captain William Rogers made himself highly visible among the four small boats and was welcomed aboard the ship at 10 am. Captain Dempster had been fooled, and the Blue Mountain Valley was easily taken.

Lord Stirling was disappointed to discover little more than a cargo of coal, dead pigs, and an array of spoiled food. However, his fast response and the comportment of the crew of volunteers earned him a promotion and a hat-tip from Congress for the crew:

“[Resolved] That the alertness, activity and good conduct of Lord Stirling, and the forwardness and spirit of the gentlemen, and others, from Elizabeth town, who voluntarily assisted him in taking the ship Blue Mountain Valley, were laudable and exemplary; and that his lordship be directed to secure the capture, until the further order of the Congress and that, in the mean time, he cause such part of the loading, as would otherwise perish, to be disposed of by sale.”

Col. William Alexander, or “Lord Stirling” as he was known in formal documents, went on to an illustrious career. This quiet moment of celebration may have been the highlight of my great-grandfather David Ross’s career. The entire story was captured in a report filed on February 9th, 1776 by Robert Ogden of the Elizabeth Town Committee of Safety to John Hancock.⁹

That report filed on February 9th, 1776, includes a complete listing of all crew members, including Sergeant David Ross.

David’s son Ezekiel Ross may be my subject for a future adventure. Stay tuned.

Family Endnote

Family members mentioned in this story:

• John Ross (1660-1702)

• George Ross (1629-1709)

• David Ross (1720-1795)

• Ezekiel Ross (1756-1845)

This was an extraordinary period in global history, and it inspired me to launch the Stories250 initiative. I hope you’ll join me by sharing your own stories of your ancestors 250 years ago (give-or-take 50 years.)

1. A few years ago, I felt like I’d been hoarding the treasure, so I scanned my copy, snipped out the chapter referencing my living cousins, and posted it to the Internet Archive. You can find it today at Harger & Allied Families on the Internet Archive. While you’re there, toss them a donation.

• Book: “Harger and Allied Families (abridged)” https://archive.org/details/03g9-000e Internet Archive (accessed 15 January 2026).

2. Philip Stephens to Samuel Graves, September 26, 1775, in William B. Clark et al., eds. Naval Documents of the American Revolution (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1964-2019), Volume 2: 735-736 (Images from the Internet Archive: archive.org/details/navaldocumentsof02unit/page/736/mode/2up)

3. “War at Sea and Waterways (1775–1783),” May 19, 2020, by Eric Wiser for AllThingsLiberty.com: (allthingsliberty.com/2020/05/blue-mountain-valley-and-the-rise-of-lord-stirling)

4. “Deposition of Joseph Woolcombe,” in William B. Clark et al., eds. Naval Documents of the American Revolution (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1964-2019), Volume 3: 1013 (archive.org/details/navaldocumentsof03unit/page/1013/mode/2up)

5. “Minutes of the Committee of Safety,” in William B. Clark et al., eds. Naval Documents of the American Revolution (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1964-2019), Volume 3: 902-903 (archive.org/details/navaldocumentsof03unit/page/902/mode/2up)

6. Col. William Alexander was a colorful character; the back story to why they called him “Lord Stirling” is an entertaining distraction. More at newyorkalmanack.com/2023/04/major-general-william-alexander-lord-stirling-a-short-biography

7. A small boat that can navigate shallow waters. John Smith described a shallop for exploring the Chesapeake Bay in the early 17th century. NPS Chesapeake National Trail. (nps.gov/cajo/learn/historyculture/the-voyages.htm)

8. “Lord Stirling to John Hancock,” in William B. Clark et al., eds. Naval Documents of the American Revolution (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1964-2019), Volume 3: 958 (archive.org/details/navaldocumentsof03unit/page/958/mode/2up)

9. “Robert Ogden to John Hancock,” in William B. Clark et al., eds. Naval Documents of the American Revolution (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1964-2019), Volume 3: 1200-1203 (archive.org/details/navaldocumentsof03unit/page/1200/mode/2up)