IN WHICH A PEEP AT THE STATE-HOUSE LEADS TO AN UGLY ADVENTURE
Harris's Ferry--now the populous capital city of Harrisburg--was, in
1778, a small and unimportant place. John Harris, an old Indian trader
and the founder of the town, lived here. Some years before, he had made
the acquaintance of Captain Stanbury, when the latter stopped at the
ferry on a trip from Philadelphia to Wyoming. Nathan was aware of this
fact, and resolved to make use of it at such a time of need. So, after
the lads had landed and given their canoe in charge of an old boatman,
they climbed the river bank and presented themselves at the door of John
Harris's big stone mansion.
The old trader was at breakfast, early as was the hour, and he gave his
visitors a cordial greeting even before he had heard their story.
Nathan's explanation gained much sympathy and a ready promise of
assistance. There was little time to spare, but the lads tarried long
enough to eat a hearty meal. That finished, the trader took them to the
bank of the river directly opposite his house, and pointed out the
mulberry-tree to which he had been tied by hostile Indians some years
before, and where he would have been burnt to death had not aid arrived
in the nick of time.
Then, in haste to the Three Stars Tavern on Front Street, where the
Philadelphia coach, with three elderly passengers inside, was about
ready to start. John Harris paid the fares, and after shaking hands with
the lads and bidding them come to see him again, they mounted to the
outside seat beside the driver. A couple of minutes later the blasts of
the coaching-horn rang through the little settlement, and the long ride
had begun.
Nothing worthy of special mention took place during the journey.
Passengers got on and off, stoppages were made for fresh horses and
meals, and the nights were spent at wayside towns. The lads' incidental
expenses were paid by the driver, in accordance with secret instructions
given him by the kind-hearted trader.
Lancaster was reached on the evening of the first day, and here the
night was spent. The two following days were rainy, and the muddy
condition of the roads made traveling slow. The lads remained outside,
sheltered by a sail-cloth hood that was stretched over the top of the
seat. Under other circumstances they must have enjoyed the journey, but
the shadow of the terrible events they had so lately passed through was
still upon them. They could not forget the horrors of Wyoming, the
vexatious escape of Noah Waxpenny, and the tragic death of Barnabas
Otter and the Tory ruffian. Nor was the future free from worry. Nathan
felt a burning impatience to reach the Shrewsbury, and he could not rid
himself of the fear that he would find his father either dead or gone.
Godfrey, on the other hand, was concerned not a little for his own
safety. In spite of the assurances of his companion, he believed
himself to be in danger. And there was some ground for this fear. The
lad, though not a spy, was still a British officer and loyal at heart to
the cause of the enemy. And he was on his way to Philadelphia, where
there was a strong likelihood of his being recognized as one of that
hostile army which had occupied the city during the previous winter.
Nathan tried to inspire his friend with confidence, and partly
succeeded. Neither cared to be questioned concerning their past
adventures and their future plans, so they held aloof at all times from
their fellow-passengers. The driver was a garrulous fellow, but
fortunately with an inclination to do all the talking himself. This just
suited the lads, and from morning till night they listened with feigned
interest to his accounts of coaching experiences and his remarks on
passing scenery.
On the evening of the fourth day after leaving Harris's Ferry, just as
dusk was falling, the coach rumbled down to Middle Ferry on the
Schuylkill, and the passage across in a big flat-boat was quickly made.
Then followed a short ride through the fields and woods in the cool of
the evening, and a spirited dash down Chestnut Street, where the good
citizens of the town were smoking and gossiping at their front-door
steps. Taranta, taranta, tara! sounded the horn as the lumbering stage
turned into Fifth Street at the corner of the State-House, and a minute
later the panting steeds drew up at their destination--Homly's Inn at
Fifth and Walnut Streets. The painted face of Benjamin Franklin beamed a
welcome from the creaking signboard that swung under a lighted lantern,
and there was further encouragement to the thirsty and hungry travelers
in the following printed couplet:
"Come view your patriot father! and your friend,
And toast to freedom, and to slavery's end!"
Nathan and Godfrey climbed down from the high seat, and stood looking
about them. Of the half-dozen passengers in the stage some had already
entered the inn, and others had trudged away in the shadows of the
night.
"The dear old town again!" said Nathan; and a tear glistened in his eye.
"It seems too good to be true!"
"I know how you feel," replied Godfrey, "and I'm sorry I can't feel that
way myself. But all I'm thinking about is getting away from a place
where recognition will mean danger."
"And I'm in as big a hurry to leave as you are," said Nathan. "There are
miles and miles between me and that farm-house on the Shrewsbury where
my father is lying wounded--perhaps dead."
"Not that," Godfrey answered quickly. "You will find him getting
well--I'm sure of it. And where are we going first? Not to the inn, I
hope--"
"No," interrupted Nathan, "I'm too anxious to see Cornelius De Vries.
We'll go straight there, and get supper and a night's rest, and then
we'll arrange about the rest of the journey."
"Lads, there's good cheer to be had inside," called the driver, as he
started to lead the horses to the stable-yard. "Homly's the man to give
you a meal and a bed."
"Thank you, but we have friends here," Nathan replied.
"All right! Good-bye, and good luck to you!"
"Good-bye!" the lads answered; and then they started briskly up Fifth
Street. They reached Chestnut Street, where there were plenty of lights
and people, and crossed to the opposite side. On the corner Nathan
halted and turned around.
"There's no danger," he said, noticing his companion's uneasiness.
"We'll go on in half a minute--I want to take a look at the State-House.
There's a light in the big hall, and up yonder hangs the dear old
bell--the bell that rang out liberty for us two years ago."
"For you, not for me," Godfrey gently reminded.
"Oh! I forgot!" Nathan exclaimed contritely. "Forgive me, old fellow. I
should have known better than to stop you here--we'll go on now."
But it was too late. During that brief interval of delay, unobserved by
the lads, a ragged and sinister-looking man of middle age had been
staring keenly at Godfrey, whose features were partly exposed to the
glimmer of a street lamp. Now he came quickly to the spot, barring the
way up Fifth Street for the lads.
"It's you, is it?" he said insolently, with a leer of malice at Godfrey.
"I thought I weren't mistaken. And what are you doing in Philadelphia,
my fine British officer? Did you just wake up and find the red-coats
gone? Or did you come over from New York to look about a little--"
"You are mistaken, my good fellow," interrupted Godfrey, his face
turning slightly pale.
"Get out of the way," Nathan added angrily. "Don't stop us here--"
"I'm not mistaken," the man asserted loudly; "not a bit of it. I know
who I'm talking to--your name's Spencer, and you were here with the
British last winter. Don't be in a hurry to get away, you and your
friend."
"Who is he--do you know him?" Nathan asked in an undertone.
"I do now," Godfrey whispered. "His name is Burd, and he kept a store up
near the barracks. I had him arrested by the guard for threatening Major
Langdon. He's going to give us trouble, Nathan. Look, the people are
beginning to notice us--"
"Whispering treason, that's what you are," exclaimed the ruffian. "No
such doings, my fine fellows. It's lucky I saw you--"
"We must get away at once," muttered Nathan. "What a fool I was to stop
you here! Now will you get out of the way?" he added to the man. "You're
making a mistake that will cost you dear--I am a son of Captain Stanbury
of the American army, and a soldier myself--"
"A likely story!" sneered the ruffian; and that quickly, as the lads
started to move, he threw himself upon Godfrey and bore him hard back
against the corner of the house. "A spy! a spy!" he yelled at the top of
his voice.
Nathan lost his temper completely, and like a flash he fetched the man
a stunning blow in the face that made him release Godfrey. A second blow
sent him staggering to the edge of the sidewalk, where he set up a
prodigious shouting for help.
Clamor and confusion followed, and escape for the lads was out of the
question. As they stood side by side against the wall they were quickly
hemmed in by an excited mob, and so deafening was the noise that they
could not make themselves heard. Men came running from every
direction--citizens, store-keepers, tavern loungers, lads eager for a
fight, and a few crippled and bandaged soldiers.
"Spies! spies!" they howled. "Kill them! hang them!"
Nathan, feeling himself to blame for the trouble, stepped a little in
front of Godfrey. He had a pistol in his pocket, and this he pulled out
with a flourish, though he hoped to avoid the necessity of using it.
[Illustration: NATHAN PRESENTED HIS PISTOL]
"Listen, my good people!" he shouted. "There must be some here who know
me. I am an American soldier, and my companion is not a spy--"
It was no use. He could not make himself heard. Closer and closer
pressed the mob, inflamed and urged on by the ruffian, Burd. The sight
of the lad's drawn pistol kept the foremost back a few paces, but those
in the rear began to hurl missiles. Stones and clubs struck the wall on
both sides of Nathan, and a rotten apple burst on Godfrey's shoulder.
The crowd was increasing, and the clamor was waking noisy echoes in
other quarters of the town.
Nathan's pallor gave way to a flush of anger. "Keep back!" he roared.
"Keep back, or I'll fire. You cowards! Give me a chance to speak."
The uproar deepened, but the circle widened a little at the ominous look
of the weapon. Then, just as a rush began in the rear, a hoarse shout of
"The watch! the watch!" rose above the clamor of voices. The sound of
dull blows were heard, and right and left through the parting crowd,
wielding their staves at every step, came a dozen men of the town
watch. At their head, and seemingly acting as the leader, was a man
wearing a sword and a military coat. Without ceremony he snatched
Nathan's pistol.
"Keep close to me," he commanded, "and walk boldly."
At once the men of the watch surrounded the two lads and led them
quickly across Chestnut Street. The crowd followed, hooting and yelling,
but taking good care not to venture within reach of the staves. Right
into the State-House marched the officer, the watch, and the prisoners,
and a moment later Godfrey and Nathan crossed the threshold of the large
chamber on the eastern side of the first floor--the same in which the
memorable Declaration of Independence had been signed.
Here several lights were burning, and a number of men were standing
about in groups. The watch had halted in the hall, but the officer
entered with the lads, and turned to a man who had just come forward.
The latter was tall and wore a long cloak of light material. As the
glow of a lamp flashed on his face it revealed the familiar features of
General Washington.
"Sir, I have obeyed your orders," said the officer. "These young
gentlemen were the cause of the disturbance, and they can explain for
themselves. I think you will recognize one of them--"
"Nathan Stanbury!" exclaimed Washington. He held out his hand, and the
stern expression of his face relaxed.
"It is I, sir," replied Nathan, stammering in his surprise. Before he
could say more two arms were thrown around him from behind, a kiss was
planted on his forehead, and the familiar voice of Cornelius De Vries
cried: "My dear lad! God be praised!"
Again and again the worthy old Hollander embraced the lad, giving him
scarcely a chance to breathe. Finally, in his delight, he turned to
Godfrey, and would have embraced him as well. But Washington held up his
hand with a smile.
"Master Stanbury," he said, "I did not expect to find you in
Philadelphia so soon, nor was I certain that you had escaped the
bloodshed at Wyoming. It affords me the highest pleasure to know that
you are safe, for I assure you that I have not forgotten your valuable
and trusty services in the past. But a short time ago I was telling
Master De Vries how gallantly you fought at Monmouth, and what a narrow
escape you had from hanging when you saved my papers at Valley Forge."
"You do me too much honor, sir," said Nathan, with a blush.
"Not enough, my brave lad," replied Washington. "But come, I forget that
you may speedily fall in my good graces," he added, in a jesting tone,
"since you are accused of disturbing the peace of this good and loyal
town of Philadelphia. You shall give me an explanation, and account for
your companion."
"That I will gladly do, sir," declared Nathan.
"But I can spare you only a little time," added Washington. "I left my
army at White Plains, on the Hudson, and made a quick journey here to
confer with some of my Quaker friends on matters of importance. I must
be starting back by morning, and before my presence becomes generally
known in the town. And I prefer to talk apart from these worthy
gentlemen."
He led the way to a far corner of the room, bidding Cornelius De Vries
follow himself and the lads. With as much brevity as possible Nathan
told his story, and he was careful to omit nothing, since he knew that
the whole truth would be best for the interests of Godfrey.
Washington listened intently, now smiling, now frowning at parts of the
narrative. "I have already heard the news from Wyoming," he said, when
the lad had finished, "but not so clear an account as yours. You seem to
have displayed your usual bravery and clear-headedness, Master Stanbury,
and you have certainly had more than your share of perils and
adventures. I deplore the loss of Barnabas Otter, who was a trusty and
valuable man, and I regret that you have not fathomed this strange
mystery with which your father seems to be connected. I confess that it
has a deep interest for me. As for the recent brawl out in the
street--why, it seems that you are not to blame. But it was imprudent
for your companion to have entered Philadelphia, and I hardly know what
disposition to make of him." He paused a moment, smiling. "Is he
disposed to turn patriot?"
"He is not, sir, with all due respect to you," Godfrey answered, firmly.
"Let him accompany me, sir," exclaimed Nathan. "He risked his life to
save myself and my friends. He is not a spy, and he should not be held
as a prisoner. Help him to get back to the British lines."
Washington shook his head. "I can't do that," he replied. "I can't lend
my aid to such a purpose. But Master Spencer deserves to be rewarded for
his gallant conduct, which I do commend most heartily. So I shall let
him accompany you to visit your father, Master Stanbury, and I dare say
he will be making a little trip over to Long Island one of these days.
Is that satisfactory?"
"Quite so," replied Godfrey, with a smile, "and thank you, sir."
Washington turned to Nathan. "Now, my boy, you will want to get speedily
to your father?" he asked.
"As soon as possible, sir," Nathan replied, eagerly. "Please tell me how
he is? Have you heard lately?"
"At last accounts he was doing well, but he was not able to be moved,
else I should have sent a party for him. I will not deny that he is in
some danger of capture by raiding-parties of the enemy, so you had
better get to him without delay. What is your opinion, Master De Vries?"
"I agree with you, sir," answered the Hollander, "much as I should like
the lad to spend a day or two with me in Philadelphia. But it is all for
the best."
"Yes, I must start at once," assented Nathan. "And how shall we go, sir?
By land?"
"I think not," replied Washington; "the roads through the Jersies are
bad and lonely, and you would run a risk of meeting bodies of the enemy.
As it happens, there is a sailing vessel lying now down at South Street
wharf, and I can arrange with the captain to take you along the coast
and up the Shrewsbury. He and his crew are loyal and trusty men, and
have been engaged in secret service for me for some time past. Master De
Vries," he added, "you know the place and the man. Suppose you make the
necessary arrangements at once, and as soon as that is done the lads can
go secretly to the river. By then the streets will be quiet."
"It is a wise plan, sir," agreed the Hollander, "and I will see to the
proper arrangements."
He departed immediately, and then Washington drew Nathan a little apart
from Godfrey.
"I can spare but a moment more," he said, in a low tone. "You are a
brave lad, Master Stanbury, and an honor to your country and to your
father. I shall not forget you in the future, and I predict that you
will have an officer's commission before you are much older. I will
speak to you of other matters at a better opportunity. I trust that you
will reach your father safely, and that he and you will speedily be
within the shelter of my lines at White Plains. When you leave the
farm-house with him come by way of New Brunswick, where you will find
American out-posts. You will both be needed. A battle cannot be long
delayed, and by this time the French fleet has probably arrived off
Sandy Hook. As for Master Spencer, to whom you owe much--why, I leave
his interests in your hands, and I trust no harm will befall him."
Washington shook hands with both lads, and spoke a word of farewell.
Then he joined the gentlemen who were waiting for him, and an aid
shortly conducted Nathan and Godfrey to another apartment of the
State-House. Here they remained three hours, at the end of which time
Cornelius De Vries returned to announce his complete success. The town
was now quiet, and the lads safely reached South Street wharf. It was
not quite midnight when they parted from the old Hollander and went on
board the sloop "Speedswift," and when they came on deck in the morning,
after a good night's rest, the vessel was many miles down the Delaware.
No British men-of-war were met with, but, owing to bad weather, the
voyage was prolonged to nearly a week--a delay that sorely tried
Nathan's patience.
At last, one dark and sultry July night, the "Speedswift" entered the
mouth of the Shrewsbury, and sailed cautiously along the south shore.
When the channel became shallow a small boat was lowered, and two of the
crew rowed the lads to a point near the head of the river. The captain,
who knew the locality thoroughly, went along with the party, and when
they landed in a little cove he pointed to a road that skirted the
north shore of the river.
"That's your way, my young gentlemen," he said. "Follow the road for two
miles, and you'll come to Jonas Welfare's place. You can't miss it, for
it's the first house."
A moment later the boat was pulling back to the vessel, and the two lads
were walking rapidly toward their destination. Nathan was in a state of
doubt and suspense--now confident of finding his father, now fearing
that he was dead or captured. He kept Godfrey almost on a run, and after
half an hour's tramp they reached an old stone farm-house standing in a
yard full of pine trees.
No light was to be seen, and with a fast-beating heart Nathan mounted
the porch and rapped on the door. It was opened almost immediately by an
elderly man, who carried a candle in his hand.
He looked at the lads suspiciously, and with an air of disappointment,
and then gruffly demanded their business.
"Are you Jonas Welfare?" Nathan asked, eagerly.
"That's my name, sir."
"Well, I am Captain Stanbury's son. Is--is he still here?"
"Captain Stanbury's son?" exclaimed the farmer, incredulously. "Yes, you
look like him. Come right in."
The lads followed Mr. Welfare into the hall, and after closing and
barring the door he led the way to an apartment on the left. Here a lamp
was burning, and in a large chair sat a bearded man with sunken eyes and
pale and hollow cheeks. With an eager cry he rose to his feet, and the
next instant Nathan was clasped in his father's arms.
Godfrey discreetly stepped back into the hall, and when he entered the
room five minutes later, the farmer had left it by a rear door. Nathan
was kneeling by his father's side, and the captain's hand rested
lovingly on the lad's head.
"Who is this?" he asked, looking up. "Did he come with you, my boy?"
"He is an old friend," replied Nathan, motioning Godfrey to sit down.
"He saved my life. But I will explain presently. You have been very ill,
father. Are you getting better and stronger now? Tell me all about it."
"I have improved wonderfully in the last week," replied Captain
Stanbury, "though it will be some time before I am quite myself again.
And there is but little to tell, my boy."
His face suddenly became grave, and he fixed his eyes on the floor.
"The wound I received at Monmouth was more painful than dangerous, and
when I came to my senses I was a prisoner with the enemy's rear-guard of
Hessians. After carrying me some miles on the retreat they brutally
assaulted me with bayonets and clubbed muskets, and left me for dead
along the road. This kind-hearted farmer found me and brought me here,
and to him and his faithful wife I owe my recovery."
"I was sure you were alive," said Nathan. "I never quite lost hope,
father, and now you will want to hear my story--"
"Yes, if you can make it brief. There are reasons, my boy. I heard of
your perilous journey through Jonas Welfare, and when news of the
Wyoming massacre reached me I feared greatly for your safety. God has
been very good to us both."
"I will tell you all about the journey," said Nathan, "but there is
something to come first." In a few words he related Noah Waxpenny's
visit to the Indian Queen tavern, and mentioned the name of the legal
firm that he represented. "The man was trying to find you, father," he
added, "and also Major Langdon, of the British army."
Captain Stanbury's face turned even whiter, and there was a strange look
in his eyes. "Sharswood & Feeman, Lincoln's Inn!" he muttered, half to
himself. "It has come at last, after all these years! And at a time when
I despise and spurn it for myself! But for the sake of my son--" He
paused abruptly. "You should have told me this before, my boy," he
added.
"I had so little chance," Nathan replied, "and most of the time I forgot
it."
"And have you seen this man since?"
"That is part of my story, father. I am coming to it--"
"Go on quickly, lad. I am listening."
Accordingly, as briefly and clearly as he could, Nathan described his
adventurous travels, telling how desperately Simon Glass tried to get
the papers for Major Langdon, and how Godfrey saved the lives of the
prisoners. He told all the leading incidents of the cruise down the
river, and concluded with the escape of Noah Waxpenny from Fort Hunter
and the sad death of Barnabas.
Captain Stanbury listened with a countenance as rigid as marble, and
when the story was done he rose to his feet and feebly paced the floor
half a dozen times. On his agitated features were depicted grief,
passion, and unutterable horror. Finally he paused in front of the
lads, and took Godfrey's hand in his own cold and trembling grasp. "My
brave boy, I want to thank you," he said hoarsely. "Your conduct has
been indeed noble. I could not feel more gratitude and respect for you
were you a patriot at heart, instead of one who has clung to the cause
of oppression. But party feeling shall make no breach between us. Sir,
you are a hero."
Turning to Nathan he went on hastily, and with an air of confusion:
"This is a terrible story, my boy, terrible. I hardly know what to make
of it. By God's mercy you have escaped death a dozen times over. And so
Barnabas Otter is dead! You say he perished with this Tory ruffian. A
braver man, and a truer friend never lived. But the packet of papers, my
boy? I fear they are lost."
"They will be recovered with the body," replied Nathan, "and if Noah
Waxpenny has not been caught--"
"Never mind about him," interrupted Captain Stanbury. "The papers are
the most important, and for your sake I trust they will be found."
"For my sake!" exclaimed Nathan. "Father, what does this mean? Why do
you speak and act so strangely? What did Major Langdon want with the
papers, and why is Noah Waxpenny seeking you both?"
Captain Stanbury pressed one hand to his brow, and a look of anguish
appeared on his face. "My boy, you shall know all," he said, in a tone
of hoarse resolve. "Sooner or later the truth would have to come out.
Major Langdon is--"
Just then the rear door opened noisily and Jonas Welfare hurried into
the room. "Captain, they are coming!" he exclaimed. "I hear the tramp of
the horses on the road."