FOES IN THE CAMP.
It is much worse to have one foe in the camp than to have a host of
foes out-side, for who can tell what harm he may do who comes in the
guise of a friend?
In the year 1774 a young man, named John An-dre, came with the King's
troops, and fought in their ranks at St. John's and Crown Point.
He had a brave heart, and a fine mind, and did much to keep up the
hearts of the men when in the camp. He was fond of the fair sex and
had praised in rhyme the charms of a Miss Ship-pen who wed Ben-e-dict
Ar-nold in the year 1780.
Ar-nold had fought well on our side at the north, and won much
praise. He had been a sea-man in his youth, and was both strong and
brave. But he grew proud and vain, and sought to rank as high as the
Com-mand-er-in-chief, with whom he found much fault.
Wash-ing-ton had great faith in him, and did not dream he was false at
heart.
For some ill-deeds while at Phil-a-del-phi-a Ar-nold had been brought
to court and tried and his guilt proved, and this had made him wroth
with Wash-ing-ton, and the cause he had sworn to aid.
He sought for a way to pay back the slight and raise him-self to
fame. With this end in view he wrote to Sir Hen-ry Clin-ton--but did
not use his own name--that he would like to join the cause of King
George on the terms that he set forth. He was in need of funds for he
was deep in debt, but Clin-ton did not see fit to make use of him.
Two or three more of his schemes failed, and at last he asked that he
might have charge of the post at West Point. This Wash-ing-ton gave
him, and in Au-gust Ar-nold fixed him-self in a fine house that stood
on the east side of the stream, half a mile or so south of West Point.
From this place he sent notes to An-dre, the aide-de-camp of Clin-ton,
who wrote back and signed his name _John An-der-son_.
Ar-nold's plan was to throw West Point and the High-lands in-to the
hands of Sir Hen-ry Clin-ton at the time that Wash-ing-ton was at
King's Bridge, and the Eng-lish troops in New York.
A fleet, with a large land force on board, was to come up to the
High-lands, and Ar-nold would at once yield up the post in-to their
hands. This act he thought would bring the war to an end, with the
flag of King George at high mast, and then great would be the name and
fame of Ben-e-dict Ar-nold.
That the scheme might not fail, Ar-nold wrote to An-dre to meet him at
Dobb's Fer-ry, Sep-tem-ber 11, at noon.
But Ar-nold had spent the night of the 10th at Hav-er-straw, on the
west shore, and on his way back in his barge, as he had no flag, he
was fired on by the guard boats of the King's troops. So he had to put
off his plans for a day or two.
In the mean-time the sloop-of-war _Vul-ture_--a good name for such a
bird of prey--was brought up the Hud-son so as to be near at hand to
aid in the vile scheme.
On Sep-tem-ber 18, Wash-ing-ton with his suite crossed the Hud-son at
Ver-planck's Point, in Ar-nold's barge, on his way to Hart-ford.
Ar-nold went with him as far as Peeks-kill, and talked with him in a
frank way, and as if he were most true to the cause.
An-dre went up the Hud-son on the 20th and went on board the Vul-ture
where he thought to meet Ar-nold. But Ar-nold knew it would not be
safe for him to be there; so he kept in the back-ground.
The next night a boat crept up to the side of the _Vul-ture_ in which
were two men. Their oars scarce made a sound.
An-dre, who wore a blue great coat, went on board this boat and was
rowed to the west side of the stream. Six miles south of Sto-ny Point
they came to shore at the foot of a high mount known as the Long
Clove. It was mid-night. Dark was the hour, and dark the place, and
dark the deed.
Ar-nold was there hid in the shade of the woods. A man was near who
came to wait on him and take care of his horse. He and An-dre had a
long talk. One, two, three hours passed, and still there was more to
say. One of the men who had brought An-dre, and whose name was Smith,
warned them that it was near day-break, and the boat would be seen by
our guards if they did not go back soon.
Ar-nold feared that the sight of a boat on its way to the _Vul-ture_
might bring harm to him and his scheme, so he urged An-dre to stay on
shore till the next night. The boat was sent to a creek up the
Hud-son, and An-dre on the horse that Ar-nold's man had rode, set off
with Ar-nold for Smith's house.
The road took them through the small town of Hav-er-straw. As they
rode on in the dark the voice of one of the guards at an out-post made
An-dre start, for he knew he must be with-in our lines. But it was too
late to turn back, and at day-break they reached Smith's house.
Scarce was the door closed on them when the boom of great guns was
heard from down the stream. An-dre felt ill at ease, and had good
cause for fear.
The fact was that as soon as Liv-ing-ston, who had charge of our
troops at Ver-planck's Point, heard that the _Vul-ture_ was with-in
shot of Tel-ler's Point, which juts out 'twixt Hav-er-straw Bay and
Tap-pan Sea, he sent some men and some big guns to that point in the
night to fire on the sloop-of-war.
An-dre kept a close watch on the scene from a top room in Smith's
house. At one time he thought the _Vul-ture_ was on fire; but his
heart gave a throb of joy when he saw the sloop-of-war drop down the
stream out of reach of gun shot.
Ar-nold gave An-dre the plans of the works at West Point, and told him
what and how he was to do. As the _Vul-ture_ had changed her place, he
told An-dre it would be far more safe for him to go back to New York
by land. And he would reach there in less time.
But An-dre said that he must be put on board the sloop-of-war the next
night; and in case he should change his mind Ar-nold gave him a pass
that he might go by sea or by land. At ten o'clock that morn Ar-nold
left him to his fate.
Time moved at a slow pace with poor An-dre. Once on board the
_Vul-ture_ he would be safe; his task would be done, and West Point
would soon be in the hands of the red-coats. As night set in he grew
still more ill at ease, and asked Smith how he had planned to get him
on board the _Vul-ture_.
It gave him a shock to learn that Smith had not done the least thing.
The boat-men had gone home, and he would not take him on board the
_Vul-ture_. But he said he would cross the Hud-son with him and start
him on the road to New York by land, and go some of the way with him
on horse-back.
They set off at sun-set, and went for eight miles on the road to White
Plains when they were brought to a halt by a band of our troops who
were out as watch-men.
An-dre showed his pass signed with Ar-nold's name, and so they took
him for a friend and not a foe. He wore a coat of Smith's that made
him look like a plain man.
The two were warned that it was not safe for them to be on the road at
night, as they might meet the Cow-Boys from the King's troops, who but
a short time since had swept through that part of the land.
Smith was full of fears, and An-dre had to yield to his wish to take a
bed in a farm-house near at hand. This they did, but An-dre could not
sleep. He knew that he was not safe. At day-break he woke Smith, and
made him haste to leave the place.
Two and a half miles from Pine's Bridge, on the Cro-ton Riv-er, An-dre
and Smith took a scant meal at a farm-house which had been stripped by
the Cow-Boys.
Here Smith took leave of An-dre, who was to go the rest of the way to
New York a-lone. He felt no fear now, as he had passed our lines, and
was clear of those who kept watch on the out-posts.
Six miles from Pine's Bridge he came to a fork in the road. The left
branch led to White Plains. The right branch led to the Hud-son. He
had thought at first that he would take the left hand road, as the
right one was said to be filled with Cow-Boys. But he had naught to
fear from them, as he was on their side; and as it was a more straight
road to New York, he turned down it and took his course on the banks
of the Hud-son.
He had not gone far when he came to a place where a small stream
crossed the road and ran down a dell that was thick with trees. A man
stepped out with a gun and brought An-dre to a stand. Two more armed
men came up to aid the first one, whose name was Paul-ding.
Paul-ding's coat was in rags, and was of the kind that was worn by the
King's troops. When An-dre caught sight of it his heart leapt for joy,
for he was sure he was safe. So sure that he did not guard his tongue.
He asked the men if they were on his side, and they said they were. He
then told who he was, and that he had been sent to a post up the
Hud-son and was in haste to get back. As he spoke he drew out a gold
watch, such as few owned in those days, and none but men of wealth.
Think what a shock it must have been to An-dre when Paul-ding said
they were not his friends but his foes, and he was in their hands.
Then An-dre tried to make out that what he first told was a lie, but
that he would now tell the truth; and he drew forth his pass to prove
that he was all right. Had he done this in the first place he might
have gone on his way. "A still tongue shows a wise head."
The men seized his horse by the rein and told An-dre to get off. He
warned them that he had been sent out by Gen-er-al Ar-nold and that
they would be ill dealt with if they held him back.
"We care not for that," they said, as they led him through the shrubs
on the edge of the brook. They then went to work to search him, and
took note of the way in which he was drest. They were poor men, and
had not had a chance to see such fine clothes.
An-dre wore a round hat, a blue great-coat, 'neath which was a red
coat decked off with gold-lace, a nan-keen vest, small-clothes and
boots.
They made him take off his coat and vest, and found naught to prove
that he had sought to harm their cause, and they had a mind to let him
go.
Paul-ding, who had been twice in the hands of the red-coats and
ill-used by them, was still not quite free from doubt. A thought came
to his mind.
"Boys," said he, "his boots must come off."
At this An-dre's face flushed, and he said that his boots were hard to
get off, and he begged that he might not lose time in this way.
But the men were firm. They made him sit down, his boots were drawn
off, and the plans that Ar-nold gave him were brought to light.
Paul-ding looked at them and cried out,
"He is a spy!"
He then asked An-dre where he had got these plans. "From a man at Pine
Bridge" he said; "a man whom I did not know."
As he put on his clothes An-dre begged the men to let him go. He would
pay them a large sum, and stay with two of the men while one went to
New York to get it.
Here Paul-ding broke in, "Keep your gold! We want none of it. Were it
ten times as much, you should not stir one step!"
An-dre had to yield to his fate, and was led by the men to our post
which was ten or twelve miles off. An-dre rode on horse-back with one
man in front, and one at each side.
At noon they came to a farm-house, and those who dwelt there sat at
the mid-day meal. The house-wife, whose heart was touched by a sight
of An-dre's youth and look of grief, asked him to draw near and take
some of the food. Then as she caught sight of his gold-laced coat, the
good dame said that she knew it was poor fare for such as he, but it
was the best she had.
Poor An-dre shook his head, and said, "Oh, it is all good, but in-deed
I can-not eat!"
When the four reached the out-post and Jame-son, who was in charge,
saw the plans that had been found on An-dre, he at once saw that they
had been drawn up by the hand of Ben-e-dict Ar-nold.
He at once did the thing he ought not to have done, which was to write
to Ar-nold, and tell him that a man who said his name was _John
An-derson_ had been caught, and held, though he bore a pass signed by
him. The plans found on him had been sent to the Com-mand-er-in-chief,
and An-dre, with a strong guard was sent with the note to Ar-nold.
In a short time, Ma-jor Tall-madge, who was next in rank to Jame-son,
came back from a trip to White Plains. He had a clear head, and as
soon as he heard the case he at once urged Jame-son to send a man in
haste to bring An-dre back. This was done, but Jame-son had not
thought to have the note to Ar-nold brought back, so it sped on to let
the knave know that his plot had failed.
As soon as Ar-nold read the note he sprang on the horse of the man who
brought it, and rode with all speed to the dock where his six-oared
barge lay moored. He threw him-self in-to it and bade his men pull out
in mid-stream and row as fast as they could to Tel-ler's Point, as he
must be back in time to meet Wash-ing-ton, who was then on his way to
West Point.
The guards knew his barge, so they did not fire on it, and a bit of
white cloth waved in the air served as a flag of truce. He soon was on
board the _Vul-ture_, where he gave him-self up, and the cox-swain and
six barge-men with him. This was a mean act, and showed just what kind
of a man Ar-nold was, but as soon as the men made it known that they
had been led to think that all was right, and that a flag of truce
gave them a safe pass, they were at once set free.
Ar-nold gave the red-coats much aid, and they were glad to make use of
him. But they did not care to make friends with so base a man. At the
close of the war, he went to Eng-land, and made his home there. He was
shunned by all, and died in the year 1801, at the age of three-score.
As Wash-ing-ton drew near the fort at West Point, he thought it
strange that no guns were fired. "Is not Gen-er-al Ar-nold here?" he
asked of the man who came down to the shore to meet him.
"No, sir. He has not been here for two days past; nor have I heard
from him in that time."
This was strange; but soon the note from Jame-son was placed in his
hands, and when he had read of the deep-laid scheme, he said with a
deep sigh, "Whom can we trust now?"
Word was at once sent out to the guards to check Ar-nold's flight, but
it was too late. He had slipped from their grasp.
Let us now see how An-dre bore his hard fate. He had the best of care,
and made hosts of friends, who grieved that one so young, so
well-bred, and of such high rank, should have done a crime for which
he must be hung.
It was a great grief to Wash-ing-ton, who would have felt no pang had
Ar-nold been in An-dre's place. But death to the spy! was one of the
rules of war, and Oc-to-ber 2 was the day set for An-dre to be hung.
He had asked that since it was his lot to die he might choose the mode
of death; and begged that he might be shot. This Wash-ing-ton could
not grant, though in his heart he longed to do so; but thought it best
that An-dre should not know.
On the morn of the 2d, An-dre drest him-self with great care, in the
full suit worn by those who bore his rank in the King's troops. He was
calm, while all those near him were in tears.
He walked with a firm step to the place where he was to end his life,
arm in arm with two of our troops. When he caught sight of the rope he
gave a start, and asked if he was not to be shot. When told that no
change could be made, he said "How hard is my fate!--But it will be
but a brief pang!"
[Illustration: WINTER AT VALLEY FORGE--P. 94.]
Then he stepped in-to the cart, took off his hat and stock, loosed his
shirt at the throat, put the noose round his neck and bound his own
eyes.
When told that there was a chance for him to speak if he chose, he
said "I pray you to note that I meet my fate like a brave man."
Then the cart was moved off and he was left in mid-air, and death took
place in a short time. An-dre was laid in a grave near the place where
he was hung, but in 1821 was borne to the land of his birth, and
placed near the tombs of Kings and Queens.
He that breaks laws must pay the price. If you want to make friends,
and to have them love and trust you--_be true_. Let no one coax you to
sin. The eye of God is on you, and he sees all your deeds. You may
hide your crime for a while, but you may "be sure your sin will find
you out." Be not an Ar-nold nor an An-dre.