THE SPIKED CANNON.
“We’ll put him in the tent, and make further search in the morning,” Ira
said at length.
The three scouts lifted their prisoner, and, carrying him into the tent,
laid him gently on the fir boughs.
“I would loosen your bonds if it were safe to do so, Master Preston,”
Ira said; “but as it is, you will have to make yourself as comfortable
as possible under the circumstances.”
“I have been in a worse fix,” he replied shortly.
“You may both lie down and get what sleep you can,” the lad then said to
his comrades.
“You are the one to sleep; we’ll take turns watching the prisoner,” Late
said stoutly.
“No,” their leader answered decisively. “You will have a long journey
to-morrow and need the rest, while I can sleep after returning to the
encampment.”
They yielded reluctantly, and were soon slumbering soundly. Ten minutes
passed, and the courier was so quiet the lone watchman thought he too
must be asleep; but suddenly he tried to raise himself, saying:
“Look here!”
“What is it?” Ira asked kindly. “Can I do anything for you?”
“Yes,” the captive answered. “Tell me whether you are really Le Geyt, or
some one who is personating him.”
“What difference does that make to you?”
“Much. If you are Le Geyt, you are a low, contemptible traitor, and when
I get the chance I’ll crush your life out as I would that of a snake.”
“I don’t blame you for feeling that way,” Ira replied with a slight
laugh. “I should in your place. But what if I am not Le Geyt?”
The courier struggled until he had raised himself slightly on one elbow,
and looked straight at his captor for a moment. Then he continued:
“If you are some Yankee personating him at General Burgoyne’s
headquarters, I say it is the boldest scheme I ever heard of, and I have
only the profoundest respect for you. To be outwitted by such a man
isn’t half as bad as having a sneaking traitor get the best of you.”
“That is where the shoe pinches, is it?” the young scout asked with
another laugh. “Well, I’ll let you judge as to my real character by this
night’s work.”
Silence reigned for some time, to be broken again by Master Preston, who
said, as if he had been thinking over the events of the night:
“We are not far from the British camp?”
“What makes you think so?”
“You were not gone long enough from the encampment during the afternoon
to have traveled very far and also caught that string of fish.”
“You are a good reasoner, Master Preston.”
“I believe we haven’t been very far from the camp at any time to-night,”
the prisoner went on a moment or two later in tones of disgust. “I
wonder I didn’t suspect you were leading me in a circle.”
“The circle was too large, and you were not familiar enough with the
locality to see the change in our course,” Ira explained. “You can’t be
blamed, I assure you. The way you have hidden the letters I know you
carry, is proof you are nobody’s fool.”
The compliment evidently pleased the prisoner, for he laughed silently,
and then remarked significantly:
“You haven’t found them yet, have you?”
Ira made no answer, and in a few minutes the prisoner was sleeping
soundly notwithstanding his uncomfortable situation.
The little camp was astir early, for Dan Cushing arrived at dawn from
Fort Edward. He looked the prisoner over, heard the story of his
capture, and then turned to Late.
“When did you get back?” he asked.
“Yesterday about noon,” his friend replied.
“Any special news at Ticonderoga?” he next inquired.
“Nothin’, except General St. Clair has over three thousand men,” was the
reply. “Colonel Seth Warner has come with his regiment from Bennington.”
“And General Schuyler is gettin’ reinforcements all the time,” Dan
announced. “Give him a little more time, an’ he’ll have ten thousand men
at his back, ’nough to drive the red-coats back into Lake Champlain.”
“He must have the needed time before Burgoyne reaches him,” Ira
declared.
“That is what the general told me to tell you,” the lad continued. “He
will leave the road open to Fort Edward until General St. Clair finds
out whether he will have to retreat from Ticonderoga. If he does, he is
to destroy bridges, and cut down trees across the way to hinder the
red-coats as much as possible. I carried that order to him before comin’
back, else I’d been here sooner.”
“You’re here in time,” the leader replied, “though I shall have to send
you back to the fort in a few hours. I want our prisoner in the custody
of General Schuyler, rather than that of General St. Clair. I shall feel
safer. And all three of you will make none too strong a guard. He must
not be allowed to escape under any circumstances. Shoot him down should
he attempt it. But we’ll have breakfast first, and then search him again
for those missing messages.”
In a half-hour they and their prisoner had eaten. Then the latter was
stripped to the skin, and every rag of his clothing examined. Then his
boots and weapons were again inspected, lest some secret cavity had been
overlooked. But the search was as fruitless as the previous one. It was
evident that the captive enjoyed their discomfiture.
“It matters little,” Ira finally declared. “As long as he is a prisoner
he cannot deliver the letters, and that will answer our purpose. It is
possible, too, that the general may find a way to make him disclose
their hiding place. At noon you are to begin your journey. Take the west
trail to the river, and keep on to the fort. When you go, I’ll start for
the British camp. Until then Dan and I will sleep.”
The noon-day sun, therefore, looked down upon a deserted island. The
three boys with their prisoner had gone over to the western shore of the
little pond, and from there struck through the forest towards the Hudson
river; while Ira re-crossed to the brook, and, descending that to the
larger stream, retraced his steps to the point where the latter met the
Hubbardtown trail. From this point he began his journey back to the
lake. He took such a roundabout route as a precautionary step. Should he
meet any one who knew him, it would be supposed he was returning to the
encampment directly from Master Graham’s house.
On his arrival he found General Burgoyne too busy with his arrangements
for breaking camp on the morrow to give him more than a passing notice.
Greeting him pleasantly, the officer remarked:
“I trust that you made a safe journey, Master Le Geyt.”
“I did, and left Master Preston in good hands,” he replied, an answer
which satisfied the unsuspecting commander.
By easy stages the army crept down toward Ticonderoga until only Sugar
Loaf Mountain[3] stood between it and the fortress. Here a halt was
called that the engineering corps might examine the hill with a view to
placing a half-dozen cannon on its summit.
With some anxiety Ira went over to the officer who was watching his men
as they clambered up the steep sides, measuring distances, and selecting
the surest footing.
“It is a difficult place to carry guns, captain,” he said, as he stood
by the officer’s side. “The enemy have always regarded such a feat as
being impossible.”
“It may be for them, but not for us,” the Britisher replied loftily.
“Before night I shall have my cannon yonder on that level spot you see
below the big tree. From there it will be an easy task to run them over
on the south side.”
“The fort will then be at your mercy,” the young scout suggested.
“Yes,” the captain replied with much satisfaction. “As soon as I have
the guns in place, the general will throw his army about the fortress,
and it will have to surrender, or be blown to pieces. The cannon isn’t
yet made that can throw a shot six hundred feet straight up in the air
to harm us.”
“That is so,” the lad admitted, and turned away with a heavy heart.
From his tent door he could watch the work of the engineers. A derrick
was made of a tree some distance up the precipitous side; a pair of
horses was attached to one end of the rope, and a gun drawn up to a
level spot which had been cleared away a few feet below the tree. Then
the tackling was carried to another improvised derrick farther up the
hill, and again the horses swung the cannon toward the summit. It was a
slow task, often beset with unexpected hindrance; but within two hours
the first gun was lying on the level spot which the captain of the corps
had designated.
“If one cannon may be put there, six can be made to follow,” muttered
Ira as he saw the end of the task. “It is only a question of time. The
officer was right; before night he will have his battery where it can be
put in place. I must get word to General St. Clair, and let him and his
men slip away before they are surrounded.”
The opportunity came to him unexpectedly. About dusk General Burgoyne
sent for him.
“Master Le Geyt,” he said, when the young scout was in his presence, “I
want you to go below the fort and keep watch over the road the enemy
would take if they should attempt to retreat to-night. Select as many
men with you as may be needed, and in case you discover any suspicious
movement, report promptly to General Fraser. He has his division ready
for immediate pursuit the moment we know the Yankees are trying to
escape us. Before another night I shall have a force where they cannot
leave the fort however great their desire.”
Concealing the exultation he felt at this order, the lad replied
promptly:
“I will make arrangements to leave camp at once, general, and shall need
but one other man, provided we may have horses. There are two routes by
which the Yankees can leave the fort; my comrade can watch one, while I
look after the other, and the first to detect any movement of the enemy
will report at once to General Fraser.”
“Very well. Go to Colonel Baume; he will furnish you with horses and
man, and you can be off by the time it is fairly dark.”
“Yes, sir,” and the lad hurried away.
Twenty minutes later he rode out of the lines, accompanied by a stolid
Hessian whom he had chosen as his attendant. They went down the south
road until arriving at another running westward. Here he stationed his
comrade, saying to him in his own tongue:
“Stay here until I return, unless the Yankees come along in full force,
in which case you are to ride to camp as fast as your horse will go, and
tell your colonel. Do you understand?”
He grunted an assent, and Ira rode off to the east, saying to himself:
“You’ll see no Yankee force to-night, my good fellow.”
A mile further on he came to a farm-house, up to which he rode boldly,
and dismounted. Three rapid knocks on the door brought an immediate
response.
“I’ll join you in a moment,” a voice said, and soon a stalwart form
stepped from the darkness within into the darkness without. Approaching
the horseman, he peered into his face an instant, and then exclaimed:
“Ho, Ira! It is you! Well, what is up?”
“I must go into the fort to-night,” the rider explained in low tones. “I
will leave my horse here. What is the password?”
The man placed his lips to the lad’s ear, and whispered the information
he desired.
“All right,” he replied. “I will be back in a few hours.”
He then gave the reins of his steed into the farmer’s hands, and,
passing around the house, crossed an open field to the nearest thicket,
into which he plunged. When he emerged from the timber he was near the
fortress. Boldly approaching the sentinel, he replied to the challenge
by giving the password, and in a few minutes was in the presence of
General St. Clair.
The officer’s greeting was a warm one. Grasping the newcomer by the
hand, he exclaimed:
“I am glad to see you——” here he hesitated a moment, and then went on
with a grimace, as though the name was a disagreeable one to him—“Ira;
but I fear your coming means bad news for me. What is it?”
“I had no time to find my messengers,” he began, “so came myself. The
engineers of Burgoyne have succeeded in hoisting six of their best
cannon up the north side of Sugar Loaf Mountain. To-morrow morning they
will be run across to the south edge, and the fort will be at their
mercy. You must retreat to-night.”
“If I do, it means leaving my cannon and stores for the enemy,” the
general growled, more to himself than to his visitor. “Tell me how they
did it? I thought such a plan impossible.”
Rapidly the young scout described the methods used to accomplish the
feat, and added:
“I also have another item of news. General Fraser’s division is in
readiness to pursue you, if you attempt to leave the fortification. I
have been sent here to see that you do not get away,” and he and the
officer laughed. “The general has orders to put his troops in your rear
in the morning.”
“Hum! hum!” the commander muttered. “That does look as though I must
move quickly, if I am to save my men for future fighting,” and he
relapsed into deep thought.
In silence Ira waited. At length the general spoke.
“If I could have until to-morrow night, I believe it might be possible
to slip away with men, guns, stores, everything. Is there any way by
which the movements of the red-coats could be delayed, say for
twenty-four hours?”
It was a full minute before the lad replied: Then he said slowly: “If
those cannon on the mountain were disabled, they would have to spend
another day hoisting up a second battery, and in all probability General
Fraser would not be sent to your rear until the guns were in position.”
“Exactly,” broke in the officer eagerly, “if those guns can be spiked
to-night, I am likely to secure the delay I need. Now the question is,
can it be done? Are those cannon under guard?”
“I think not,” his visitor replied. “The British camp is so close to the
foot of the hill, and as you are not supposed to know that the guns are
on its summit, they have not deemed such a precaution necessary.”
“It is worth trying,” the commander said half to himself. “If I can only
find a man who is willing to undertake the job,” and again he relapsed
into deep thought.
“I will undertake it, general.”
“You?”
“Yes. I believe I can do it without much risk. Once I climbed that hill
from this side, just for the pleasure of saying I had accomplished the
feat. I am sure I can do it again. Give me the implements needed; say
nothing to any one, and I will make the attempt. Two cries of a
night-hawk from the south edge of the mountain, twice repeated, will be
token that I have succeeded. Three cries, unrepeated, is that I have
failed. There will be time for you to slip away with your men if I am
obliged to report a failure.”
During several minutes they discussed the matter, General St. Clair
offering to send others to perform the task, and the lad insisting that
he be allowed to try it. In the end the officer yielded, and, with a
hammer and files in his pockets, the young scout left the fortress.
There was no difficulty in gaining the steep side of the mountain. It
was there the hazardous work began. For some moments Ira studied the
rocks as best he could in the darkness. Finally he gave an exclamation
of delight. He was certain he had hit upon the place where he began his
ascent several months previous.
Up the cliff, using hands and feet in every crevice he could find,
grasping narrow ledge, or projecting root as he came to them, stopping
to rest at intervals, he clambered slowly on. A half-hour passed, and
then the toiler’s efforts were rewarded. He gained a ledge from which he
found safe footing to the summit.
Drawing a deep breath of relief, he sped noiselessly to the opposite
side. Finding the guns unguarded, he commenced the work which he
believed meant so much to his friends in the fort. Wrapping a bit of
cloth about a file, and placing his folded handkerchief over the top to
deaden the sound, he drove it into the touch-hole of the nearest cannon.
The task accomplished, he listened attentively. There was no token that
his work had attracted the attention of any one in the British camp six
hundred feet below. Congratulating himself on such supposed fact, he
moved on to the next gun, and set firmly a second file. Again he
listened, but could hear nothing.
“The sound does not reach the camp,” he said to himself, and as rapidly
as possible disabled the other four cannon. Straightening up from the
labor, he found himself face to face with the captain of the engineer
corps, who demanded:
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Rejoicing that he had not yet been recognized, Ira, with quick wit,
replied:
“I am watching the guns.”
“I was not aware we posted any guard here to-night,” the officer said
sharply. “Unless you can give a better reason for being here I shall run
you through,” and there could be heard a certain rustling which told
that he was drawing his sword from its scabbard.
“The general sent me,” the lad replied, not thinking it worth while to
explain what general.
“Oh!” the officer stammered. “I—I didn’t think a sentinel was necessary
here. I received no orders to that effect.”
“That is nothing to me,” was the cool reply.
This answer appeared to anger the engineer.
“I am sure I heard a hammering up here,” he declared.
“Very likely. I was pounding on the guns. A man must do something to
keep himself awake.”
The answer apparently satisfied the officer, for he turned to retrace
his steps down the mountain side. After going a few paces, however, he
paused to say:
“You may tell the general that I came up here myself to see if the guns
were all right.”
“That is fair,” the young scout agreed, wondering if the officer had
recognized him.
He stood motionless until every sound of footsteps had died away. Then
he hurried across the summit and gave utterance to the cries which told
the listening Yankee general that he had succeeded in his undertaking.
But that gratified officer little fancied that the lad was even then
mentally asking if it was safe for him to return to the British camp.