THE TORY SPY.
No man is so base as he who deliberately takes up arms against his
own country. Such a one is fit for any deed, however mean, cowardly,
or wicked. Unfortunately, traitors have been found in every country,
in all times; nor were they wanting during the American Revolution.
While there were a number of honorable men who, believing that the
colonies were wrong in revolting from the king, did not take up arms
against them, on the other hand there were numbers of base, sordid
wretches, who were willing to cling to any side so that it was the
strongest--to support any cause so that it was one which promised
them booty. Such a one was Timothy Turner, who followed the fortunes
of the British, who was devoted to their interests, who had, in
short, sold to them his very soul and body for paltry gold.
Although the character of this young man was not fully known, yet
suspicion rested upon him, and the Whigs had formed unfavorable
conclusions which were not long wanting a justification. He lived
in a small cabin, about half or three-quarters of a mile from Mr.
Stoddart’s; and, though ostensibly he supported himself by tilling a
small patch of ground, yet the dullest mind must have perceived that
a support from such a spot was simply an impossibility.
On this night, Timothy Turner was wending his way home from a tavern
which stood on the road about three-quarters of a mile from his
house. As he turned from the door, he thought he heard the sounds of
a rapidly approaching horseman. Pausing for a moment, to see whether
his ears did not deceive him, he discovered the dusky figure of the
rider. As he passed the tavern, and by the light which streamed from
the door, Turner caught sight of the man. It was Nathaniel Ernshaw.
“Ha! curse him, what is _he_ doing, riding about at this time of
night? It’s no good Wild Nat is after; blast him, if I could but lay
my hands on his carcass, I would show him a touch of my nature. If
ever I get the chance, he shall pay dear for what he has done.”
The ruffian kept on his journey down the road, straining his eyes to
follow the fast-flitting figure before him. When Ernshaw came to the
lane which led in to Mr. Stoddart’s dwelling, he reined in his horse,
and, dismounting, threw open the gate. Turner, who had followed
as closely as possible, on seeing the direction of Nat’s errand,
stealthily drew near to the spot.
Nathaniel drew up to the house, and knocked on the door. The knocking
brought a middle-aged man to the door. Holding a candle above his
head, he took a careful survey of the visitor.
“Why, Nat, is it you?” said the squire. “What brings you here at this
time of night? Come in.”
“No, I thank you, squire. For once in my life I have business to
attend to. I was over to see John Vale, but found that he was not
home. If he is here I wish you would ask him to step to the door for
a few minutes. I have something important to say to him.”
“Well, he’s here, sure enough; and if you won’t come in, why I will
have to send him out--that is, if he is willing.”
The old squire then entered the house again, to make Nat’s
requisition known to the son of his neighbor. Timothy Turner had,
in the mean time, approached to within hearing distance, and now
stood ready to note every word that was uttered. He scented gold and
revenge in the issue of that interview.
John Vale soon made his appearance. The two young men shook each
other cordially by the hand. The conversation which ensued it is
unnecessary to detail. Every word of it was overheard by the spy.
When, at length, John expressed his determination of joining the
company which his friend was raising, Turner rubbed his hands in high
glee, as he muttered to himself:
“You shall find out, Mr. John Vale, and you, Mr. Nathaniel
Ernshaw, that Timothy Turner is not the proper man to slight. This
intelligence is worth ten golden guineas to me, and the revenge
besides.”
“As my mother approves of it, I’m with you, Nat. When and where do we
meet? Let me know the rendezvous, and trust me but I’ll be there.”
“There was some talk,” replied Nat, “of meeting in the swamp, but
that is too far for the most of us. So that is out of the question;
but you know Clingman’s mills and the pine woods that run back from
the creek. If you enter the woods by the path immediately opposite
the mill, you will find a small clearing. That is the spot. Be on
hand by ten o’clock to-morrow night, and I promise you that your eyes
will be gladdened by the sight of thirty young men, all good, stout
patriots--ready, if need be, to die for their country.”
“And I can assure you,” said Turner, to himself, “that you’ll see the
greater part of them do so, unless something very unexpected prevents
it.”
“You can depend on me, Nat,” said John. Again shaking hands, Ernshaw
mounted his horse, and galloped away.
Turner waited until the clatter had died away, and then silently
hastened in the direction of his dwelling. Arriving there, he sought
the shed which covered his horse. Hurriedly saddling the beast, he
rode off toward the city of Charleston, twenty miles distant.
Gen. Clinton, the military commander in Charleston, had scarcely
arisen, on the following morning, when his servant announced a man
waiting to speak with him.
“Who is he?” was the general’s inquiry.
“He says that his name is Turner--that he rode twenty miles last
night to bring you an important piece of news.”
“Turner? Then I think I know the man. He is one of those tory hounds
we find it necessary to use. I’ll vouch for it, he is planning some
piece of rascality. Admit him.”
The servant retired and returned with Turner. Gen. Clinton surveyed
the fellow for a moment, then addressed him rather sharply:
“How now, sir? What have you to say? It should be something of
importance to cause you to journey so far and fast.”
“It is of importance,” rejoined Turner. “I heard at a late hour, last
night, of a meeting of rebels which is to take place this night.
There will be thirty or forty of them, and their purpose is to form a
brigade to act with Marion, Sumpter and others. I know the names of
but two; but, if the rest of the men are as good as they, the band
may do much injury to the king’s cause.”
“What are the names of these two of whom you speak?”
“Nathaniel Ernshaw and John Vale--two most desperate men, and fit to
do any thing against the followers of the king.”
“Ernshaw? I have heard that name before--where, I can not say. This
thing shall be attended to. I will see that measures are taken to cut
them off; but where is this meeting to be held?”
“About twenty miles from here there is a building called Clingman’s
mill. In a wood immediately behind this the rebels are to assemble. I
will lead any troops which you may send to the spot.”
“How many of them did you say that there would be?”
“Between thirty and forty. Whether they will be armed or not, I can
not say, but I do not think they will be. Some of them may have their
rifles, but I have no doubt fifty of your men could take the whole of
them alive.”
“Be in readiness, then, to act as guide. Or stay; I will see you
again this morning. Come an hour before noon. If your intelligence
proves correct you shall receive a suitable reward.”
Gen. Clinton rang the bell for his servant to show the tory out.
The man who performed this duty was a negro whom Gen. Clinton had
received into his service since his arrival in Charleston. He was an
intelligent-looking black, who had ingratiated himself into favor,
and now seemed to be almost a necessity with the general.
As Sampson opened the door for the exit of Turner, he shrugged his
shoulders in a manner which told that it was displeasing to him to
be compelled to do any service for such a man. Hardly had the body
of the tory crossed the threshold ere the door was violently closed
behind him. The black returned to his master, and busied himself
preparing for his master’s breakfast. Having partaken of this meal,
Gen. Clinton left the house, turning his footsteps in the direction
of a dwelling inhabited by a rich and influential tory.
Sampson passed quickly out by the back door, and, crossing the
garden, emerged from it into the street. Walking rapidly along for
some squares, he at length turned into a somewhat obscure alley. A
few steps brought him to the front of an humble-looking dwelling, at
whose door he gave a few taps. His summons was quickly answered, and
a middle-aged woman threw open the door.
“Is it you, Sampson?” said she. “What brings you here at this time of
day? Any thing important?”
“I guess mebbe it is. Whar is Simon? I got suthin’ to tell ’m.”
“Simon is here, if you would see him; so come in.”
The black entered the cabin, and found himself in the presence of
the person he was seeking, an honest-looking mechanic, whose eye and
bearing betokened the fearless man.
“Whatever brings you here must be of importance, Sampson; so tell us
at once,” said the mechanic, or Simon Hunt, as was his name.
“Thar’ ar’ no one here who oughtn’t to har a secret, is thar’.”
“Trust me for not harboring any such about my house.”
“Listen, then. This mornin’ that Timothy Turner came to see the
general, an’ tell him ’bout a meetin’ o’ whigs that was to be held
to-night, and so the general ’l send down a lot o’ his sodgers and
chop ’em all up. If you kin send ’em word you’ll be doin’ a good
thing for de blessed cause.”
“All right, where is this meeting to be held, and who is to hold it?
I must know who to send word to. Give me that, and they shall know
the game before night.”
“He on’y knows two--they be Masser John Vale and Nat Ernshaw.”
“What? Nat Ernshaw turning whig trooper? That’s unexpected, but I
always thought there was good in the fellow, if he only had a chance
and would show it. I’ll send my boy straight off. If he puts the
spurs to the old roan’s sides he ought to get to Ernshaw’s before
dinner. Then they have the whole afternoon in which to warn the boys
not to come to the meeting. The two that were mentioned, though, will
have to keep dark, or they will find the country too hot for them.”
“Well, Nat kin take care on himself. Take smarter men dan de
Britishers to ketch him asleep; and he take keer o’ Massa John, too;
but I think I better go. It might ’pear s’picious if any one see me
here. Good mornin!”
“Good morning,” answered Hunt. “There goes a noble fellow,” continued
he, speaking to his wife. “This is the third time he has brought
important intelligence of the movements of the British. Where is
Simon? He must start directly.”