Picture the frozen Delaware River on Christmas night, 1776. A howling nor’easter drives ice and sleet across the black water. Oars creak against the current as Durham boats grind through floes. At the prow of the lead boat stands a towering figure in a blue cloak, tricorn pulled low, jaw set against the gale. George Washington, forty-four years old, stares toward the New Jersey shore where Hessian mercenaries sleep in warm barracks.