THE SUSPICIOUS TORY.
At dawn on the following morning one thing was clear to every occupant
of the old hut: The water was rising so rapidly that they would soon be
compelled to vacate the building. Therefore, after breakfast, they
looked about for a place in which to build a new shanty. After
considerable discussion it was decided to put the structure on the
heights across the creek.
There were two reasons for such decision. If the cabin was built there,
it would be above the reach of the rising waters; and a small party at
that point might protect the dam in case the British sent down a force
to destroy it.
“It may be that Captain Howell will ask General Burgoyne to let him lead
a company down here for the double purpose of rescuing me and preventing
the building of a dam,” Ira said laughingly. “If so, we better be
prepared for it. With the river between you and them, five on the hill
could drive off any force he is likely to bring with him.”
“There are seven of us,” Late said quickly.
“True,” the lad admitted, “but there will soon be only five. When you
have moved the stuff, I shall set off for the encampment, taking Dan
with me as far as the swamp-road, for I count on sending him to Fort
Edward with a report.”
An hour later the site for the new shelter had been selected, and the
goods carried over. Then Ira and Dan embarked in one of the canoes, and
paddled off up the swelling stream. The water had risen so high that the
voyagers were able to push the light craft through the forest to a place
where young Cushing could step directly out upon the highway. As he did
so, he gazed over the increasing waters and said:
“Give us another twenty-four hours, Ira, an’ this road will be covered.”
“It looks so,” the latter replied, “and I think, by picking my way, I
can push up the swamp to the north side.”
“You surely can by goin’ back to the creek, an’ runnin’ on that till it
turns to the west. Hide your boat somewhere up that way, an’ you can
come down to us any time you’ve a mind.”
“Very-well,” Ira answered; “but now for the message to General Schuyler.
Here is a rough drawing of the road, the swamp, and the dam. I have
written no description, and it will mean nothing to any one but you. Do
you understand it.”
“It’s clear as a bell,” the lad admitted a moment later.
“Then you can explain it to the general. Tell him why we built the dam,
and what we hope to accomplish by it. Give us two days more, and I see
no way for the red-coats to pass the swamp while the dam holds.”
“That’s ’bout the size of it,” Dan replied grimly, “an’ no one will see
it quicker than the general. ’Twas a lucky minute when it popped into
your head, Ira,” and with this compliment he swung down the roads
towards the fort.
Ira watched until he was out of sight, and then paddled leisurely back
to the creek. Up this he went to its westward bend, and, leaving it,
glided through the woods as long as he found any depth of water. Then,
picking up the light craft, he carried it to a point where the land rose
into something like a hill.
“The water can’t rise much farther than this,” he thought, glancing back
over the route he had followed.
Concealing his burden among the bushes, he strode on towards the camp,
arriving there a little before noon, and going directly to the tent of
the commander.
“Master Le Geyt!” exclaimed that officer as he saw his visitor, “I had
decided you were in the rebels’ hands.”
“Hasn’t Captain Howell come back?” the young scout asked, eager to learn
all he might about that officer before telling the story of his
prolonged absence.
“Yes,” the general replied; “but he can explain nothing.”
“How is that?”
“Last night he crawled over the barricade on which his corps was at
work, and fell unconscious among the men. They brought him into camp and
called the surgeon. He examined him, finding one leg broken. Evidently
he had crawled many miles in that condition, and was nearly exhausted.
When did you part with him?”
“Has he not been able to tell you any thing?” asked the lad, giving no
heed to General Burgoyne’s question.
“He has been in a delirium ever since, and we can get nothing from him
save fragments of a story. He has spoken of the Yankees, your capture,
and his fall. We could only suppose that you two had run against some of
the rebels during the tramp; that you had been captured, he got away,
and was injured during his flight. We shall have to depend on your
report to straighten matters out.”
“There is not much to tell,” the lad replied. “We stopped in an
abandoned hut for the night, and were awakened by the sound of voices.
He jumped from the cabin window and got away; but half a dozen rebels
entered the building before I could escape. I stayed there until this
morning, when they let me go, deciding, perhaps, that I was not worth
keeping.”
“You were fortunate indeed. I presume, then, you discovered no road
around the rebel barricades?”
“No,” Ira replied. “They increase rather than diminish in number, and
below here a few miles is a huge swamp, which, for some reason, is
flooding rapidly. By the time we arrive there I believe it will be
well-nigh impassable.”
“What a way in which to fight!” exclaimed the officer in disgust. “If
they would only come out in the open and give me a chance I would soon
scatter them like chaff before the wind. But here they are blocking the
way, exhausting my stores, forcing me to change all my plans of
campaign; it is enough to make a saint angry!” and by this time he had
worked himself into such a rage that the hearer was glad, on the plea of
being tired, to retire to his own quarters.
When he next saw the general the latter was in a better mood. He had
sent for the scout, and when Ira entered the tent he found there a young
fellow, scarcely older than himself, to whom the officer at once
introduced him.
“Master Le Geyt,” he said, “this is Master Bowen, a courier like
yourself, which is a bond that ought to make you fast friends. He has
come from Quebec bringing me good news. In a short time Colonel St.
Leger is to leave that city for Oswego. From there he will march against
Fort Stanwix,[4] and, capturing that, sweep down the valley of the
Mohawk, driving the rebels before him, until he joins me at Albany. Now
how large a force remains at Fort Stanwix?”
Startled as Ira was by these tidings, he nevertheless replied calmly:
“The last I knew, General Burgoyne, there were two hundred men in the
fort. Of course I can’t tell you whether any reinforcements have been
sent there within a week or two.”
It was the number that caught the general’s ear.
“Do you hear that, Master Bowen?” he cried. “Only two hundred men there,
and how large a force did you say St. Leger has?”
“Seven hundred regulars, and one thousand Indians,” the courier
answered.
“Seventeen hundred in all!” the officer announced with exultation. “We
shall hear great things from him I do not doubt, and the rebels, being
caught between our two forces, must be crushed to powder. Ha! ha!” and
he laughed loudly.
For some time he discussed the matter with his young visitors, and then
dismissed them. Ira took Master Bowen, as a matter of courtesy, to his
own tent, where he bade him make himself at home.
“I shall have to come and go on my regular duties,” he explained; “but
you are welcome to all I have so long as you remain with us.”
“It will be but a few hours,” the courier replied. “The authorities in
Quebec are eager to know what progress our army is making, and as soon
as the general can prepare his report I shall start on my return. I hope
it may be some time to-night. I can then reach the lake, where I have a
sailboat, in time for the morning breeze.”
For reasons of his own Ira stuck close to his new friend during the rest
of the day, and when the hour came for the latter to depart, asked
permission of the general to accompany him a mile or two on his way.
“Certainly,” that officer replied. “I said you would be fast friends,
and the fact that you are loath to part with him proves it. Go as far as
the lake, if you wish.”
“Thank you,” the lad replied, and he and the courier left the lines
together.
When they had traveled no more than two miles on the trail Ira bade his
acquaintance good-bye, and turned back towards the camp. He did not
enter it, however. Passing to the eastward, he hurried through the hills
to the place where he had left his canoe the day previous. Carrying the
boat to the waters, which had risen many inches since he was there, he
embarked and pulled with feverish haste down to the dam. Landing, he
climbed up to the new Shelter and, arousing the inmates, astonished them
by his sudden appearance and startling news.
“Quick, Late and Joe,” he began. “You must go down to the fort at once.
I am sending both, for it may be that General Schuyler will want you to
go on to Fort Stanwix. Tell him that a Colonel St. Leger with seven
hundred regular troops and one thousand Indians will land at Oswego
about August first. His purpose is to capture the fort, and then to
sweep down the Mohawk valley to Albany, where he hopes to join forces
with Burgoyne. As I have said, if he wants you to go to the fort with
the tidings, do so. I can get along for a while with one helper. Should
you meet Dan on his way back, let him return to the fort with you, learn
the general’s plans, and bring me word. I must know what is going on
entirely along our lines, if I am to do my work here intelligently. Tell
Dan I will be here the second night from this to hear his report.”
While the messengers were preparing for their journey, he turned to the
three men who, after helping build the dam, had remained to help guard
it, saying:
“Captain Howell got back to the camp, but with a broken leg and in a
high fever. His condition is such that he is not likely to take any
interest in military affairs for several days. Therefore the British
officers know nothing about the dam, and it is safe. You may go back to
your homes, if you so please.”
Ira waited until the five continentals had disappeared down the south
ridge. Then he closed the cabin, went back to his canoe, and began his
return to the encampment.
Entering the enclosure from the same direction he had departed a few
hours previous, his absence created no suspicion, and soon after
midnight he was sleeping soundly in his own bed.
During the following day the engineers succeeded in removing the
obstructions from the narrow pass, and the entire army advanced among
the hills to the margin of the swamp. Here they were again stopped, not
only by great barricades, but by a flood over the road-bed to the depth
of at least three feet deep. The uncertain footing either side the way,
the many turns in the road-bed, the numerous barricades, and the depth
of the water, all forced the impatient commander to halt, while he sent
forth men in every direction to learn, if possible, the cause of the
flood.
It created no surprise when Ira joined that company which went to the
north end of the great swamp, and when they, wearied by a long tramp and
fruitless search, turned to retrace their steps, no one noted that he
lagged behind.
When night fell he was far enough in the rear to make his way to the
hidden canoe and paddle off among the trees towards the creek. Once in
this watercourse, he made rapid progress, and soon was in the cabin
listening to Dan’s tale.
“First,” he said, “I’ll tell you ’bout my own trip. After leavin’ you I
struck out pretty smart for the fort. Reachin’ it, I found the general
away, so had to wait till the next mornin’ ’fore I could see him. He
understood your plan at once, an’ was mighty tickled with it. He told me
to say that in two weeks we could let the water off, an’ ’low the
red-coats to come on as fast as they might. He’d be ready for them.”
“What are they doing?” Ira asked eagerly. “Are they strengthening the
fort?”
“No,” was the answer. “The general has chosen Bemis Heights, ’cross the
Hudson, as the place to get in his work, and Kosciusko, that Polish
officer, is plannin’ the fortifications. It’s there our troops will
fight it out with Burgoyne.”
“General Schuyler counts on abandoning Fort Edward, then?” Ira remarked
musingly.
“Yes, when the British get near enough to chase him. He’ll keep just out
of their way till he’s enticed them ’cross the river. Then he’ll wallop
’em.”
“What forces has he now?” was the next query.
“His own, an’ General St. Clair’s,” Dan replied, keeping tally on his
fingers. “Then there’s General Benjamin Lincoln with the New England
troops, General Nicholas Herkimer an’ eight hundred militia, Colonel
Daniel Morgan with his rifle corps, and Colonel Benedict Arnold with
twelve hundred regulars, more than ten thousand men in all. We’ll whip
the red-coats yet, Ira.”
“I hope so,” was the hearty rejoinder. “Now tell me what has been done
about Fort Stanwix.”
“I was on my way back,” the lad explained, “when I met the boys an’ went
to the fort with them. The general was quite stirred up by the news;
but, noddin’ to me, said, ‘Tell Ira there’s time to get plenty of
reinforcements up there.’ Then, turnin’ to Late and Joe, he went on,
‘I’ll have General Herkimer an’ his troops on the way to-morrow, an’
Colonel Arnold with his regulars shall follow.’ He looked at me agin,
an’ asked, ‘Did you take that in, Dan?’ An’ when I said, ‘Yes, sir,’ he
continued, ‘Put that in your report to Ira, too, an’ give him my love,’
all of which I’ve done accordin’ to orders.”
“Exactly, Dan. No one could have done it better,” his companion replied
almost gleefully. “But I must be off, or we’ll have a troop of
Britishers looking me up. I’ll drop in on you as often as possible.”
“Don’t worry ’bout me,” was the reply. “I can stay here a week alone, if
it means in the end some good work for the Cause.”
Before arriving at the British encampment the young scout met half a
dozen soldiers who were looking for him. The explanation that he had but
just got out of the swamp was deemed sufficient to account for his
delay, and the entire party went back together.
Two weeks later a heavy thunder-storm raged. The rain literally fell in
torrents for hours. The first effect was to swell the flood in the
swamp; but on the following day it subsided with great rapidity. In a
single day the road-bed could be seen above the water, and General
Burgoyne, with much delight, ordered his corps of engineers to begin the
work of clearing away the obstructions.
Ira at once surmised that the dam was gone, and that night received the
full particulars from Dan.
“First the rain swelled the creek,” he said, “an’ poured over the dam
with a noise like thunder. Then trees, uprooted by the wind, came down,
and went agin the timbers with a deafenin’ crash. They piled up for a
while, and then, all at once, the strain became too great. The dam gave
way, an’ water, trees an’ timbers went down the gorge together. I took
the liberty to scurry off to the fort as soon as it happened, an’ told
the general. He said ’twas all right. Let the army come ’long as fast as
they could, he was ready for them.”
“It will be some days before they reach there,” Ira said, curtly.
In this he was correct. It was more than a week before the British army
reached Fort Edward, and then they found it, as they had the fort at
Ticonderoga, abandoned. General Schuyler, with all his forces, stores,
and guns, had crossed the Hudson to Bemis Heights.
On the river bank that night Dan and Ira had a brief interview.
“We are here at last,” Ira began.
“Yes, but it took you twenty-four days to come twenty-six miles,” the
other retorted drily. “I reckon it is the most remarkable journey on
record.”
A few days after General Burgoyne had established his head-quarters in
the abandoned fort, he sent for his young scout.
“Here is some one you will be glad to meet, Master Le Geyt,” was his
greeting. “A relative of yours, I believe.”
Ira’s face blanched as he turned to meet a man he had never seen before.
At a loss for words, he could only gaze at the fellow, a tall, gaunt man
of sixty years or more, who promptly asked:
“Be you Ira Le Geyt?”
“Yes.”
“Son of Hiram Le Geyt over on the Mohawk?”
“Yes.”
For a moment the questioner gazed at him from head to foot, and then
blurted out:
“You don’t look like him!”