The ensuing evening was cold, dark, and stormy. The commandant of Fort
Constitution was faithful to his appointment. He was received at the
door of Captain Wilton’s cottage by Arabella, and conducted silently to
the drawing-room. A single light faintly illuminated the interior, and
scarcely served to reveal the figure of an individual, plainly dressed,
and enveloped in an overcoat, seated beside a table in the centre of the
apartment. He rose on the entrance of Gansevoort, and advancing hastily
to meet him, with extended hand, and a cordial manner, said, “I rejoice
to meet you, Mr. Gansevoort, or rather Sir Francis, if you will permit
me thus, in anticipation, to address you.”
The commandant drew back with evident emotion, and declining the
proffered hand of the other, replied; “If I mistake not, I have the
honor of addressing Sir Philip Bender. We will waive courtesies for the
present, until we more fully understand the relation in which we stand
to each other.”
“We meet no longer as enemies, Mr. Gansevoort, but as fellow-subjects of
the same most gracious sovereign.”
“You and I are, indeed, subjects of one sovereign, Sir Philip, but it is
that Sovereign whose empire is the universe.”
“Very true,” replied the other. “My remark, perhaps, was not properly
applicable until our business is accomplished.”
“If there is business to be transacted between us, Sir Philip will have
the kindness to disclose the nature of it.”
“Come, come, Colonel Gansevoort,” replied Major Bender, with a smile,
“let us have no unnecessary formality. I have come to consummate, in
every particular, the negotiation already pending between us, through my
fair plenipotentiary here, and to learn from you at what hour you will
be prepared to deliver formal possession of the fortress under your
charge to its rightful and royal proprietor, whom I have the honor to
represent.”
“You then recognize this lady as your authorized agent in what has
heretofore passed between her and myself on this subject, and now renew
her propositions.”
“I do,” eagerly replied Sir Philip; “I see we are fast coming to the
point.”
“Yes, Sir Philip Bender, we _are_ coming to the point; but it is one of
which you do not seem to dream. In the name, and by the authority of the
Congress of the United States, _I arrest you as a spy_.”
Simultaneously with these words, which were spoken in a tone
sufficiently elevated to be heard without, the door opened, and a
serjeant, followed by a dozen men, entered the room. A deadly palor
overspread the countenance of Sir Philip. Surprise and consternation for
a moment paralyzed his faculties. He made no attempt at escape, but
dropping silently into a chair, covered his face with his hands, and
remained speechless. Had not Bender considered his success in this
intrigue as nearly certain as any human project can be rendered before
its fulfillment, nothing would have induced him to run the hazard of a
personal exposure. But, notwithstanding his certainty, he had still done
all that he could do, to be prepared for what he considered the very
remote contingency of a mistake. He had landed thirty men, under command
of Wiley, and concealed them at the edge of a wood, about a third of a
mile distant; it being impossible to bring them into the village without
instant detection. A faithful servant alone had accompanied him to the
house, and had received instructions, in case of need, to hasten, if
possible, and bring them up in time for a rescue. At the moment of his
arrest, Miss Wilton, trembling with terror, had slipped from the room,
and hastened to notify the servant of his master’s danger. Sir Philip’s
horse stood saddled at the door, and the clatter of his hoofs, as he
dashed down the street, now caught the ear of the prisoner. Hope,
therefore, had not entirely deserted him. If by any means he could
detain his captor fifteen or twenty minutes, he was yet safe, and not
only so, but would have accomplished no slight enterprise in capturing
the commandant of the fort. Gansevoort manifested a becoming respect for
the feelings of his prisoner, and allowed him to remain some minutes
undisturbed. When the latter, however, saw that preparations were making
to depart, he resorted to another artifice to gain time. He sought to
draw the commandant into a debate on the propriety of his arrest,
alledging that if he had been guilty of any offence, he had been decoyed
into it by the latter.
“Not so,” replied Gansevoort, indignantly. “Did I decoy the Dragon into
this harbor, or your emissaries into my presence? If I have made use of
strategy, it has been to _counteract_ strategy; to undermine the miner,
and ‘blow up the engineer with his own petard.’ But why should I waste
words in justifying myself to a man who has shown himself to be beyond
the influence of every honorable feeling. Extraordinary, indeed, must be
those measures which I should not have been justified in using, to
prevent the accomplishment of an outrage so great, that I can scarcely
refrain even here from inflicting signal vengeance for its
contemplation. Base, perfidious, cowardly man! the mantling blood upon
your cheek tells me that I am understood.”
“He rails with safety, who rails at a prisoner,” replied Bender, “but
let me ask you,” he continued, rising and speaking slowly, and with an
abstracted air, “let me ask you whether—”
“Another time and place must suffice,” said the other.
“One word,” rejoined Sir Philip, “only one word!” He paused suddenly,
and threw back his head in a listening attitude. A distant tramp was
heard. It came nearer—nearer—until a loud “_halt!_” resounded in front
of the house. Then, with an air of indescribable exultation, he shouted,
“Now, Colonel Gansevoort, the tables are turned. You are _my_ prisoner!
What think you _now_ of ‘undermining the miner, and blowing up the
engineer with his own petard?’”
“Stand to your arms, my men!” shouted Gansevoort, hastily drawing his
sword, “Let one fly and alarm the garrison. Quick! barricade the doors!”
It was too late. The doors were flung violently open, and panting with
haste, rushed into the room—not a British officer, but the Count Louis
De Zeng! “We heard that you were in danger,” he exclaimed, hastily, to
the commandant. “A hundred men at the door await your orders.”
“Your aid is timely,” was the reply. “Take half of your men, and conduct
the prisoner immediately to the fort. The rest will remain with me to
receive our approaching visiters.”
These orders were immediately put into execution. Wiley, however, became
apprized of the state of affairs, and retreated with his men rapidly to
their boats. They were not pursued.
A few words will explain the secret of Count De Zeng’s unexpected
appearance. When Arabella gave her orders to the servant of Major
Bender, Alice, unperceived, stood trembling by. She was terrified beyond
measure at the peril of Gansevoort, in whom the gentle girl was
interested to a degree that she would not own, even to herself and which
nothing could have induced her to exhibit to another. She could not give
the alarm within, without exposing her predilections, besides which, she
supposed the British force to be much nearer than they were, and that
nothing but an immediate alarm of the garrison would afford the
slightest chance of escape. She ran, therefore, as soon as she was
unobserved, hastily to the fort, which was scarcely forty rods distant.
A sentinel on duty conducted her immediately to Count De Zeng, to whom,
after exacting a promise of secrecy in regard to her agency in the
matter, she briefly communicated the state of affairs at her father’s
house. The count lost not a moment in acting on her information, with
the result which has been described.