IN WHICH GEORGE PRENTISS MAKES A SUDDEN RESOLUTION
In the meantime Washington had returned to New York. Knowing that if
the British ventured against the town, they would at once attempt
to seize the navigation of the Hudson, he redoubled his efforts to
strengthen the defenses of that important river. Upon his ability to
hold this depended the possible safety of the entire province.
Fort Montgomery was planted at the lower part of the Highlands on a
tall bluff north of Dunderberg. Here the river was a mile wide, and
just opposite was the promontory called Anthony’s Nose, hundreds of
feet high and accessible only to goats and men expert in climbing. From
this a body of riflemen might sweep a vessel’s decks.
Fort Constitution was some miles higher up and built upon an island.
The former fort was garrisoned by about two hundred and fifty of
Clinton’s regiment and Wisner’s minutemen; the latter had about half
as many drawn from the same source, and all were about half armed and
badly equipped. Colonel James Clinton was in command of both posts.
Breastworks were thrown up for the defense of Kingsbridge and another
work commanded Spuyten Duyvil Creek. A strong work to crown a rocky
height some few miles below the bridge was also planned; this was to
be called Fort Washington, and it would command the channels of the
Hudson; also, redoubts were to be built on the banks at Jeffreys Point.
While these efforts were being made along the Hudson, Brooklyn was not
neglected. Here the talent of General Greene was manifested; and in
many other places works were thrown up, batteries planted and redoubts
built.
And it would seem they were none too soon; for the rumors as to the
coming of a heavy British armament were growing thicker and thicker;
some had it that the bay would be full of war-ships before a fortnight
had passed.
Governor Tryon had long before given up the attempt to rule the
province from the point of Manhattan Island; so he undertook the much
more difficult task of transacting its affairs from the after cabin
of the “Asia,” which was anchored in the bay. He was in constant
communication with the king’s men of Long Island; plot upon plot was
hatched upon the ship of the line; some of them carried, some were
thwarted, but only one made a great noise and scurrying.
One afternoon George was riding from Washington’s headquarters at
Richmond Hill; along a winding path which led through Lispenard’s
meadows raced his friends Brewster and Cooper upon horses white with
foam.
He hurriedly drew his mount aside, for they never slowed their pace,
and as they flashed by he saw Nat Brewster wave his hand for him to
follow. At once he wheeled and plunged along after them. At Richmond
Hill the two dismounted, and had already been admitted when George rode
up; their panting mounts were being led to and fro by an attendant;
little groups of officers stood about, conversing in low tones.
George slipped out of his saddle and waited; it was perhaps a quarter
of an hour later that young Cooper, his round face running beads of
perspiration and his eyes lit with excitement, threw open the door and
came hastily out. He carried a paper sealed with a great splash of red
wax; and his glance went quickly about until it rested upon George.
Instantly he approached him.
“Nat said he saw you,” stated the chubby-faced youth, excitedly, “and
that you followed us. And it’s lucky you did, for there’s plenty for
you to do, old fellow.” He held up the dispatch. “This is for General
Sterling.” He passed the sealed paper to George. “Make all speed. Nat
and I and some others are going to carry the alarm to Harlem and the
posts on the way.”
“Alarm!” repeated young Prentiss in surprise. Ben took a step nearer.
“A conspiracy! Brewster was put upon it as soon as he reached New York,
and he just got to the bottom of it this afternoon.” Here a voice
called his name from one of the windows of the mansion. “I must go,”
said he, hurriedly. “Ride hard, for moments are precious.”
As Ben darted away into the house, George threw himself into the
saddle; giving his horse rein, he galloped off toward the city. General
Lord Sterling was not to be found in his quarters in Broadway; but at
the “King’s Arms” George discovered him engaged with a dish of mutton
chops.
“How now?” said the grave-faced soldier, looking up in surprise. “You
seem quite breathless.”
“Important news, general,” said the young man, handing him the
dispatches.
Neglectful of the smoking chops, Lord Sterling broke the seal and ran
his eyes over the lines of writing. His hand struck the table and the
dishes leaped under the impact.
“Done!” exclaimed he. “Done at last! Now, my fine fellows,” folding up
the paper and stowing it in the breast of his uniform coat, “let me see
you escape the net we’ll spread for you.”
[Illustration: _LORD STERLING BROKE THE SEAL_]
Vigorously he began cutting at his meat, but in a moment he dropped
both knife and fork, and said to George:
“Putnam has hinted to me that you have had a chance to hunt out this
very matter some time ago, but that for private reasons you gave it up.”
George bowed, but said nothing.
“Well, it seems to have made no difference. Young Brewster has handled
the thing most cleverly. And nothing but the severest blows would
do the rascals,” continued Sterling. “They aspire to blowing up our
important magazines, and not content with that, they must needs have
the life of the commander-in-chief.”
“May I ask, general, what names have been mentioned?”
The thought which George had been trying to stifle all the way into the
city had finally found expression.
“A sergeant named Hickey is deep in it. You have seen him, perhaps.”
“Frequently. He was a deserter from the British, I think, and was used
to drill our men.”
“That is the very fellow. More than likely his desertion was a blind;
he was probably sent to take service with us so that he could try his
hand at corrupting our soldiers, as he has been doing.”
“Are there any others?”
“David Matthews, Tory mayor of the city, has been distributing money
to enlist men and purchase arms. A number of General Washington’s
body-guard is mentioned and will be seized as soon as the word is
given.”
Lord Sterling paused for a moment, and then continued:
“There is still another person suspected. However, he has been very
careful and little has been found against him. And he is, perhaps, more
to be feared than any of the others.”
“Has his name ever been upon our list of officers?” asked George, and
his voice sounded strangely in his own ears.
The general looked at him in surprise.
“I had not thought you had gone so far into the matter,” said he. “And
while I can mention no names, it is very likely the person you have in
mind.”
That night, at the place where they had quartered, George had a brief
talk with Nat Brewster, who had just ridden in from the Highlands, and
was eating a hasty supper.
“I will give you the details later,” said Nat, “but the main facts are
these: I intercepted some letters passing between Mayor Matthews at his
place in Flatbush, and Governor Tryon on board the ‘Asia’; and in this
way secured the vital facts.”
“I see.”
“I never saw any documents richer in facts. They were full of allusions
which proved most valuable to me. I recall one in particular which put
me on a surprising scent. It said: ‘Don’t hesitate to trust the young
man I spoke of to the full. He is a nephew of Camp’s, and as he has
proven trustworthy in the past, will no doubt continue to be so in the
future.’”
“Is it known when they will be arrested?”
“The present home of Mayor Matthews is no great distance from General
Greene’s camp on Long Island. His house is to be surrounded to-night,
and he is to be taken. We expect to arrest the other actors in the
conspiracy, also, to-night. They are to meet at Corbie’s tavern, which
lies just to the west of Bayard’s woods; perhaps we’ll have the good
fortune to capture them in a body.”
Nat had time to tell but little more; for instantly upon finishing his
meal, he ran out and mounted a fresh horse, which had been saddled for
him, and rode off toward Richmond Hill.
For some time after he had gone, George sat upon a bench at an open
window and stared out at the June night. The boy’s mind was full of
vague trouble; there was something that stirred him strangely. Dully,
he realized that it all concerned the prospective arrest of young Camp.
“But he is a traitor,” he told himself. “He deliberately broke his
solemn oath to the colonies that he might be enriched with his uncle’s
money. He is my cousin, but that he is to be shamed and made to suffer
is just and right.”
But then there was Peggy. She had loved her brother and she no doubt
continued to love him; she would also suffer, keenly, bitterly,
pitifully. George realized that to the full.
“Girls always grieve and break their hearts over a weakling who has
done evil and is made to pay,” he muttered, as he clasped his knees and
stared out into the darkness. “And the nearer and dearer the criminal
is to them, the greater the grief.”
That Herbert Camp was near and dear to his sister had been made evident.
“Did she not ride after him on that night at the ‘Wheat Sheaf,’” he
said, “fearing that he would come to harm? And since then what has she
not suffered, perhaps, because of him--in forebodings, in fear that
he would be found out? For all I know, she has ridden after him more
than once since, in the hope of safeguarding him. It may be that even
to-night----”
Like a flash he was upon his feet.
“Peter!” he called, sharply. “Peter.”
A thick-set fellow, showing his Dutch descent plainly, lumbered into
the room.
“Did you call?” he inquired, stolidly.
“My horse--put the saddle on him as quickly as you can and bring him
around to the door.”
Grumbling to himself, Peter quitted the apartment. George adjusted his
shoulder belt with its steel hilted hanger; also, he looked sharply to
the priming of a pistol which he stuck into his belt; then he paced the
floor, waiting for his mount.
The horse’s iron shoes rang upon the stones; and in a few moments
George was in the saddle once more and headed away toward Bayard’s
woods.