Captain Risk was astir early next morning, called at the office of
Roderick Barclugh, and secured the fictitious name for the passport. He
then at once went to the office of General Arnold on Market Street.
Arnold was in a happier mood than the day previous. The expectancy
of an easy $3000 had given him a chance to see some relief from his
hopeless financial entanglements.
From the developments of the past few days he thus reasoned to himself,
as he paced nervously up and down his small office floor:
“Wherever that $3000 is to come from there surely must be more for me
if my part of the contract were zealously performed. But who can be
the person or persons that are carrying through these transactions?
Captain Risk is only the skipper of the Privateer Holker; who has the
money? I’ll find out, by thunder! Just give Arnold a chance. These
pangs of debt gnaw at the very core of my mental existence. I would
be honorable, but the slavery of financial obligations drives me to
desperate means of relief. Money! money!! money!!! What would I not do
just now for 20,000 pounds in gold? Ha, ha! General Washington would
not dare to reprimand me for my extravagance. I would not dodge every
one then, fearing a demand for that which I have not. Then,--O God, my
wife’s social position would be secure. To get money nowadays you must
look for it among those who have it,--not among the poverty-stricken
Colonists. The English have money and, by thunder, they have gratitude
for the services of their generals. If I had been fighting on the
English side I would not now have been begging. I would have had a
title,--Lord Arnold of Saratoga,--an estate, a pension, and a settled
position for myself and family for such services as I rendered at
Bemis Heights. Bah! what reward have I now in fighting for the rights
of mankind? I ought to fight for the glory of a King; then I would be
sensible; Mrs. Arnold tells me so, and she must be right. But then,
could I have fought in blinding snowstorm from cake to cake of ice, and
travelled over snow in bare and bleeding feet, starved and bled from
gaping wounds, for money? Never! never!! But then I was free, reckless,
and wedded to the profession of a soldier,--now I am linked to the
ambition and tastes of an aristocratic lady. As a man to whom shall be
my duty,--to my country or to my wife? Arnold was never a coward,--my
wife shall prevail!”
In such a reverie of conflicting thoughts was Arnold wrapped, when a
loud rap at the office door caused him to face about and, assuming a
military posture, sharply command:
“Come in.”
“Good morning, General Arnold, I am here for the passport, and we are
ready to load the flour and to start the messenger to New York. The
messenger’s name is Pierre La Fitte,” was the direct, businesslike way
in which the little sea-captain approached Arnold.
“Very well, Captain Risk, but who are ‘_we_’ of whom you speak? You
realize that you are simply a sea-faring man, and very likely to turn
up in Davy Jones’ locker; if, by any possible mishap, this messenger,
Pierre La Fitte, be intercepted, and any suspicions aroused by any
papers found, I could be compromised at once, and I would have no
guarantee of fair treatment. I must deal with your principal, whoever
he is.”
“Well said, General Arnold, you must be secured and protected. Remain
here and you will have this business all settled within an hour, and
you may have protection or whatever else you want for that matter. Good
day, sir,” was the snappy answer of the little skipper, as he read the
whole import of Arnold’s fears, when he suddenly departed to let him
wonder what was to happen next.
When the skipper gained the outside, he explained the situation to
himself, as he reasoned it out.
“Ah, he’s a shark! At first he wanted to know nothing of the
transaction, now he wants to know all. But, howsomever, that Barclugh
knows his business and now that I have hooked the fish, Barclugh will
land him, shark and all that he is.”
When the door shut behind Captain Risk, and Arnold had found himself
addressed, explained, and answered all in one jerk, so to speak, he
drew a long breath and said to himself:
“Whew! what’s up now? What must these people believe me to be? There
must be money where Risk does his business. Those privateersmen are the
only ones who are getting rich in Philadelphia to-day. There’s Robert
FitzMaurice, Financier General of Congress, his warehouses are full of
captured merchandise and I know that he would sell flour to anybody,
even indirectly to the enemy, if he could thereby show a good balance
on his ledger account. Philadelphia, in traffic with the enemy, is
rotten. I must now know where it is going on, and who is at it. Maybe,
I was too eager with Captain Risk. He’s gone without leaving a clue.
I guess my chance is up. When I actually must have money, what a fool
I was to ask for his principal in the matter. I might have known that
Risk would not have divulged his principal. But I wonder why they sent
Risk to me for a passport, anyway? This business has been done before
and they did not need a passport. For some reason they need me. Therein
lies my chance, and by thunder, Mrs. Arnold will be rich yet, even
though I used to be a New England horse-trader.”
While Arnold had fears and hopes of his success in mind, Barclugh had
listened to Arnold’s request as given by Captain Risk and after the
concise narrative, Barclugh simply said:
“Captain, you have done your duty. Leave the rest to me. Load your
ship, and sail with the flour to the appointed rendezvous at the
entrance of Sag Harbor.”
“That’s well, Mr. Barclugh. I’m better at running a blockade or
overhauling a lime-juicer than in handling a horse-trading shark,” was
the blurting opinion of the Yankee skipper, as he tripped out of the
compting-room of Roderick Barclugh,--little knowing that he had played
the preliminary part in a nation’s drama.
The time was momentous on Arnold’s hands as he pulled at his hair to
think that he had lost his opportunity with Captain Risk, when the
door of the office opened, and there stood Roderick Barclugh.
Arnold, wondering who was Risk’s principal, stared in amazement at
Barclugh’s presence. But Barclugh at once knew that boldness was his
weapon to use.
“Why, good morning, Mr. Barclugh, I am very glad to see you,” said
Arnold. “Will you be seated?” as he walked to the door and told the
orderly to admit no one, and then bolted the door behind him.
“General Arnold,” said Barclugh, “do you mean business about this flour
transaction?”
Arnold put on his most gracious air and replied:
“I am entirely in _touch_ with the enterprise, Mr. Barclugh, but I
was obliged to require some token of good faith on the part of the
principals. So you see I could not give Captain Risk the passport until
I had arranged with the responsible parties as to the ways and means of
getting out of the scrape in case of complications arising.”
“What token do you require, General Arnold, on my part?” coolly asked
Barclugh.
“Oh, that is a simple matter for men of substance, Mr. Barclugh. You
see I have bought an estate on the Schuylkill and am in debt; I keep up
my house in town and my pay is entirely inadequate for the tastes of my
family, so, if you could loan me a few thousand pounds in gold, I could
serve you on this occasion and possibly on others.”
“You are very right, General, about your pay being too small to support
a gentleman’s family. To be candid with you, what you need is money.
If I were to put you in the way of securing twenty thousand pounds
sterling, would you accept the proposition? Merely a proposition to do
your country a lasting benefit.”
“My dear Mr. Barclugh, I am dying daily of chagrin, and money is my
only salvation. I would be willing to die ignominiously if I could only
secure my wife that much fortune.”
“Arnold, would you go over to the other party? Would you consider
consequences? Would you honor the obligation?”
“Barclugh, a man that is the slave of the need of money has no country,
has no conscience, has no will of his own. I am a slave. My wife’s
desires torment me as a lash. The abyss opens before my eyes. My
country’s cause can never prevail against the wealth and resources of
Britain. To be loyal to America I would die a pauper in a lost cause.
To serve Britain I would gain my desires,--victory and riches. The die
is cast, sir, command me!”
“You have now arrived at a sensible conclusion, General Arnold,” argued
Barclugh. “There is no use for you to be a beggar after such abilities
as you have shown and such services as you have rendered your country.
I am the direct representative of His Majesty, George III. You prepare
the passports. Be candid with me, and I can relieve your financial
difficulties. I will communicate with you in a few days; in the
meantime, come down to my office, and I will loan you whatever money
you need temporarily.
“Good day, sir,” concluded Barclugh, as he left Arnold’s office,
rejoicing to himself at Arnold’s total subjection to money.