When a nation goes to war with another, it is often necessary for the
armies on each side to leave behind some of the high and noble
principles which may have governed them at home. Of course, war is
bloody and cruel, and it almost always happens that the officers and
soldiers are obliged to descend also to meanness and duplicity in order
to succeed in their campaigns.
One strong reason for this is the necessity for the employment of spies.
It is always desirable for the commander of an army to know as far as
possible the condition of the enemy's force, and what he is doing or
intends to do. Consequently it is a common thing to send spies into the
enemy's ranks; and the better those spies can deceive the soldiers of
the other side, the more valuable will be their report, if they are
fortunate enough to get back into their own camp.
Sometimes a spy will sneak into the enemy's lines, and make his
observations in concealment and safety; but the most valuable spies are
those which enter an enemy's camp pretending sympathy and friendship. A
man who can do this well can find out a great deal.
In every army a spy from the other side is regarded as the worst of
enemies, and if captured, his punishment is death. An impartial outsider
might object to this severity, when it is considered that the army which
punishes the spy may, at the same time, have spies of its own among the
enemy. During the Revolution, Major André was executed because he came
into the American lines as a spy, and at the same time General
Washington was very glad to get a good spy to send into a British camp.
There was a man named John Honeyman, who acted with great success in
this capacity on the patriotic side during the Revolution. Honeyman was
a Scotch-Irishman, and was said to be a remarkably fine looking man. He
was tall, strong, extremely active, and had a fine military bearing. He
had no desire to become a soldier; but he was forced into the British
army, and came to this country in 1758, when Abercrombie came over to
attack the French in Canada. Young Colonel Wolfe, who was afterwards the
famous General Wolfe who fell at Quebec, had command of this army, and
on the ship in which he sailed was John Honeyman.
Military men are not as sure-footed as sailors on board a ship, which
may be rolling and tossing on rough waters; and one day, as Colonel
Wolfe was coming into the cabin, he tripped and fell when he was halfway
down the companion way, and would probably have broken his neck, if it
had not been that Honeyman happened to be at the bottom of the steps,
and caught the colonel in his arms, thus saving him from injury.
It is very satisfactory for a full-grown man, especially one whose
profession exposes him to accidents of various kinds, to be able to take
into his service another man who is tall enough and strong enough to
pick him up and carry him if it is necessary, and who is also
quick-witted enough to know when he should interpose himself in case of
danger.
Honeyman's conduct on this occasion made an impression on Colonel Wolfe;
and when afterwards he was made general, he took the tall soldier into
his bodyguard, and made him understand that, in times when danger might
be apprehended, he was to be as near him as his duties would permit.
When the great attack was made upon Quebec, Honeyman was one of the men
who helped row the boat which carried Wolfe over the river; and during
this passage a cannon ball from the enemy struck an officer sitting very
near Honeyman, and took off his head. Had this happened to Honeyman, it
would have been a bad thing for New Jersey.
When they reached the opposite side, Honeyman climbed the Heights of
Abraham side by side with his brave commander; and when, in the battle
which followed, Wolfe was killed, it was Honeyman who bore him off the
field. Thus the first and the last service which this strong man
rendered to his military chief were very much the same.
About a year after this the war ended, and Honeyman received an
honorable discharge. He carried with him the good will and commendation
of his officers, but he also took something which he valued more than
these. While he was with General Wolfe, that officer had given him
letters expressing his good opinion of him, and these afterwards proved
of great service.
Honeyman went southward, and lived for some years in the American
Colonies. He finally settled in Philadelphia, where he married. When the
Revolution broke out, his sympathies were entirely with the American
side, but he did not immediately enlist in the American army. When
Washington came to Philadelphia, Honeyman was very anxious to see him
and consult with him. It was difficult for a man in the ordinary walks
of life to obtain an interview with the commander in chief; but Honeyman
sent in the letters which General Wolfe had given him, and, after having
read these, Washington was very ready to see the man of whom that
general had such a high opinion. Washington soon discovered that
Honeyman was a man of peculiar ability, and he had several interviews
with him, although it is not known what was said at these times.
Before very long, Honeyman took his family to Griggstown, in Somerset
County, New Jersey, and there he hired a house and settled. From this
place he went to Fort Lee, when Washington came into New Jersey with his
army, and had an interview with the general; and here, it is said, he
made a regular contract with the commander in chief to become a spy on
the American side.
There were a good many Tories in the State, and, as Honeyman had once
been a British soldier, it was easy enough for him to make believe that
he was a Tory, and so make friends with the Redcoats when he should have
an opportunity.
The plan concocted between Washington and Honeyman was very carefully
worked out in all its details. Honeyman was to let it be known that he
was a Tory, and as soon as he thought it proper he was to leave his
family and join the British. It was considered that the best thing he
could do would be to engage in business as a butcher, and then, when he
went over to the British, he could go about the country in search of
cattle, and thus get a good idea of what was going on.
He was to stay with the enemy until he discovered something important,
and then he was to arrange matters so that he should, apparently without
knowing it, wander near the American lines, where he would be captured.
It is said that Washington arranged, that, as soon as he should hear
that Honeyman had gone over to the enemy, he would offer a reward for
his arrest; but this reward would be paid only in case the supposed
traitor should be carried alive and unhurt to him. All this planning was
necessary, because there was so much communication between the Tories
and Whigs at that time, that, if it had been known on the American side
that Honeyman had gone over as a spy, the fact would soon have been
communicated to the British.
Honeyman went over to the enemy, and started business as a butcher for
the army, and, after having gone a good deal about the country looking
for cattle, he came to New Brunswick with the British army. Nobody had
suspected that he was not a perfectly honest Tory, and he had been
paying great attention to the condition of the British army, and to
finding out everything which might be of use if reported to Washington.
Among other things, he discovered that the British forces then occupying
Trenton were not under a strict state of discipline. It was winter; the
weather was cold; apparently there was not much for them to do; and
discipline was in a rather lax state. Honeyman well understood the
habits of the Redcoats, and he knew that during the holidays the
soldiers would live in even a more free and easy manner than they were
living then.
Not only did he make himself well acquainted with the condition of the
army, but he carefully studied the town of Trenton and its neighborhood,
and, going about in every direction after cows and oxen, he learned the
roads so well that he could make a very good map of them. Everything
that could be of service to the American cause was jotted down in
Honeyman's retentive memory; and when he had found out everything that
he could find out, he thought it was fully time that he should acquaint
Washington with the state of affairs in the enemy's lines.
He knew that there were American pickets on the Jersey side, some
distance away; and he started out in this direction as a greasy butcher,
with a rope in one hand and a long whip in the other, looking for all
the world like John Honeyman the Tory cattleman, who, if he knew what
was good for him, would better keep out of sight of the soldiers of the
American army. He walked a long distance down the river, and, though he
may have seen cattle, he paid no attention to them. His present object
was not to capture anything and take it away, but to be captured and
taken away. After a time he saw at a distance what he had been looking
for. Behind some bushes, but still quite plain to the eye of this
practiced soldier, were two cavalrymen dismounted, and Honeyman knew
that they were Americans. He continued to walk towards them until he
came close to the spot where the two soldiers were standing.
The moment their eyes fell upon him, they recognized him, and shouted to
him to halt; but Honeyman was too good an actor to do that. If he wished
to carry on the business in hand, he must keep up his character as a
Tory, and so he took to his long legs and ran like a deer. But the men
jumped on their horses and were after him in a moment; and as horses'
legs are a good deal better than human legs, no matter how long they may
be, the flying butcher was soon overtaken. But even then he did not
surrender, but so laid about him with his whip that he kept the two men
at bay. Of course, if they had not known him, they would have shot him
down; but as Washington had issued a proclamation concerning him, and
had especially insisted that he should be brought in alive, they did not
wish to injure him. But the unequal fight did not continue long, and
Honeyman was soon captured. The soldiers bound his arms, and, mounting
him behind one of them, so carried him across the river to Washington's
camp.
When Honeyman was brought into the presence of the commander in chief,
he pretended to be very much frightened; and he would have been
excusable if he had been really frightened, for in that little
performance of his he had run a great many risks. After asking a few
questions of this pretended traitor Washington told the guards to
withdraw, and he had a private conference which lasted over half an
hour; and in that time it is probable that these two men did a great
deal of talking. The information given was most valuable, and such as
could have been furnished only by a man of extraordinary powers of
observation.
When he had kept Honeyman as long as was necessary, Washington called
the guards, and told them to take the prisoner to a log cabin which was
used as a military jail, and there to watch him carefully during the
night, and in the morning he would be tried by court-martial. Honeyman
was taken to the prison, which had but one window and one door, and
supper was given to him. He was locked in, and two sentinels went on
guard outside the walls of the log house.
In the middle of the night these men saw a fire burning not far from
headquarters, and, fearing that it might prove dangerous to allow it to
burn, they thought it their duty to run and put it out. This they did,
and returned to the log house, where everything looked the same as they
had left it. But in the morning, when they opened the door, there was no
prisoner inside.
It is said that the whole plan of this escape, probably by means of the
window, was arranged by Washington himself, but of this we are not
certain. We know, however, that Washington looked upon Honeyman as one
of the most valuable men in the employ of the army, and that he would
take every means to prevent him from coming to harm on account of this
service.
It was in consequence of the information that Honeyman, at the cost of
such great risk and danger, had brought to Washington, that three days
afterwards the Americans crossed the Delaware, attacked Trenton, routed
the British, and thus gained one of the greatest and most important
victories of the Revolution. If it had been John Honeyman, instead of
the British officer, who was struck by a cannon ball crossing the St.
Lawrence, it is likely that Washington would not have dared to attack
the British army in Trenton, which, before his half hour's conversation
with his spy, was believed to be entirely too strong to be meddled with
by the Continental soldiers on the other side of the river.
But the report which Honeyman had made to Washington was not the only
service which he did to the American cause. Having left his peace
principles at home, as he was bound to do if he wanted to act as a truly
serviceable spy, he had more work before him. As soon as he got out of
the log house, he ran from the camp, and, although he was fired at by a
sentinel, he got safely away. He crossed the river on the ice whenever
there was any, and when he came to open water, he jumped in and swam,
and so he got safely over into the British lines.
There, wet and shivering, he demanded to be taken to the commander; and
to him he told the dreadful story of how he had been captured by the
American soldiers while he was looking for beef cattle, and how he had
been taken to headquarters, questioned, and afterwards shut up in
prison, to be shot in the morning, and how he had quietly escaped and
come back to his friends. Colonel Rahl, who was in command of the
British, was delighted to get hold of this Tory butcher who had been
taken prisoner by the Continentals, and he put him through a course of
examination about the condition of the enemy.
Of course, it was to the benefit of the Americans that the British
should think their army as small and as weak as possible; and so
Honeyman gave an account of the wretched condition of the American
soldiers,--how few they were, how badly they were armed, how miserably
they were officered, and how they were half starved and discouraged. He
told this story so well, that he made the colonel laugh, and declare
that there was no reason to apprehend any danger from such a pack of
ragamuffins as were collected together under Washington, and that, if
anybody wished to keep Christmas in a jolly way in his camp, there was
no reason why he should not do so.
When Honeyman had finished telling his tales, one to one army and
another to the other, he knew that it would be better for him to get out
of the neighborhood. He was quite sure that Washington would take
Trenton, and, if he should be found in that city when it was captured,
it might be hard for even the commander in chief to prevent him from
being shot. So he hastened away to take refuge with the British in New
Brunswick.
Honeyman had made himself so conspicuous in that part of the country as
a Tory who was working as hard as he could for the benefit of the
British by supplying them with beef, that all news about him was
received with great interest. It was not long before this story of how
he had been captured by the American pickets, and afterwards escaped
from the log prison, became generally known; and the people of
Griggstown, where his wife and family lived, were greatly excited,
believing that Honeyman had come there, and had concealed himself in his
house. A mob collected in the neighborhood late one night, surrounded
the house, and woke up the family with shouts and banging on the door.
Mrs. Honeyman appeared, nearly frightened to death; and some of the
ringleaders told her that they knew that her Tory husband had come back,
and was concealed inside; and they vowed, that, if he did not come out
and deliver himself up, they would burn the house and everything in it.
She declared that he was not there, and that it had been a long time
since she had seen him. But this was of no use. They persisted that he
was inside, and that, if he did not come out very quickly, they would
set fire to the house. It was of no use to reason with an excited mob,
and, although Mrs. Honeyman said that they might come in and search the
house for her husband, they would not listen to her. Perhaps one reason
of this was, that Honeyman was a dangerous man to look for, inside of
his own house and in dark rooms. Mrs. Honeyman saw that she must act
quickly, or her home would be lost to her.
She ran inside, and soon appeared with a paper, which she gave to a man
in the crowd with whom she was acquainted, and asked him to read it so
that every one could hear.
It was not to be supposed that Mrs. Honeyman possessed a private riot
act, which might be read in order to disperse a disorderly assembly; but
even the most disorderly people are generally possessed of great
curiosity in regard to anything out of the common, and they consented to
put off the bonfire a few minutes, and hear what was to be read. What
the angry crowd heard was as follows:--