The trip on the _Dolphin_ had been restful rather than fatiguing, and
all were ready when tea was over for further chat upon the interesting
historical themes which had engaged their attention through the day.
"Congress rewarded the men who took Andre prisoner, did it not, papa?"
asked Grace.
"Yes; each of them was given a medal and a pension of two hundred
dollars a year. Washington wrote of them to Congress in terms of high
praise, proposing that they should receive a handsome gratuity for
having saved the country from one of the severest strokes that could
have been meditated against it. Lossing tells the whole story in his
'Field-Book of the Revolution,' and gives a picture of the medal."
"Oh, that was good!" exclaimed Little Elsie, adding, "Now, papa, I
hope you are going to tell us the rest about the traitor Arnold."
"If all wish to hear it," replied her father; and receiving the
assurance that such was the case, he proceeded with the story.
"When Arnold left Andre at Smith's house he went up the river in his
barge and directly to the Robinson House; on arriving there spent a
little time with his wife and child, then had a talk with his two
aides, Majors Varick and Franks, telling them he was expecting
important information from New York through a distinguished channel
which he had just opened. This was on the 22d; the day fixed upon for
the ascent of the river by the British ships was the 24th, and West
Point was to be surrendered to them on their arrival there."
"And they listened to it all and never suspected him?" exclaimed
Sydney.
"Yes," said the captain; "he told it all as calmly as if there were no
guilt on his soul, and so he appeared on the very day that his treason
was to be consummated.
"Washington returned from Hartford two days sooner than Arnold had
expected. He passed the night at Fishkill, and he and his suite were
in the saddle before dawn, as he was anxious to reach Arnold's
quarters before breakfast time, and they had eighteen miles to ride.
Men were sent ahead with the baggage and a notice of Washington's
intention of breakfasting there; but when the general and his party
came opposite West Point, he turned his horse down a lane toward the
river.
"Lafayette said, 'General, you are going in a wrong direction; you
know Mrs. Arnold is waiting breakfast for us; and that road will take
us out of the way.'
"Washington answered good-naturedly: 'Ah, I know you young men are all
in love with Mrs. Arnold, and wish to get where she is as soon as
possible. You may go and take your breakfast with her, and tell her
not to wait for me; for I must ride down and examine the redoubts on
this side of the river, and will be there in a short time.'
"But the officers did not leave him, except two aides-de-camp who rode
on ahead to explain the cause of the delay. Breakfast was waiting when
they arrived, and they all sat down to their meal.
"Arnold seemed moody. Washington had come back too soon to suit his
plans, and the British had not come up the river at the appointed
time. He did not understand it, for he had not yet heard that Andre
was a prisoner. But before the meal was over Lieutenant Allen came
with a letter for him. Arnold broke the seal hastily, for he
recognized Colonel Jameson's handwriting in the address. Doubtless
Arnold expected it would inform him that the enemy was moving up the
river; but instead it told that Major Andre of the British Army was a
prisoner in his custody. It must have been like a thunderbolt to
Arnold, but his self-control was such that he showed but slight
disturbance; he told the aides-de-camp that he found he must go
immediately to West Point, and asked them to say to General
Washington, when he came, that he had been unexpectedly called over
the river and would soon return.
"He ordered a horse to be made ready, then left the table and went
upstairs to his wife. He told her that he must flee for his life, and
might never see her again. She fainted, but not venturing to call for
assistance, or to delay his flight, he gave a farewell kiss to their
sleeping baby, ran from the room, mounted a horse belonging to one of
Washington's aides, and hastened toward the river--not by the winding
road that led to the Beverly Dock, but along a by-way that led down a
steep hill which is yet called Arnold's Path. He got into his barge,
and told the six oarsmen to push out into the middle of the stream and
pull for Teller's Point, promising them two gallons of rum if they
would row rapidly. He told them he was going on board the _Vulture_
with a flag of truce, and was obliged to make all possible haste, as
he wanted to return in time to meet General Washington at his
quarters.
"When they passed Verplanck's Point he showed a white handkerchief,
which served as a flag of truce to both Captain Livingston at the
Point and Captain Sutherland of the _Vulture_--lying in sight a few
miles below. No one followed or tried to intercept them, and they
reached the _Vulture_ without difficulty. Arnold introduced himself to
the captain, then told his oarsmen that they were prisoners. They
answered indignantly that they had come aboard under a flag of truce
and had a right to be allowed to go back free. Arnold coolly told
them they must remain on board. Captain Sutherland did not interfere;
but, despising Arnold's meanness, he gave the coxswain a parole to go
on shore and get such things as he wanted, and when they arrived at
New York Sir Henry Clinton set them all at liberty."
"Arnold was one mean wretch! I am sorry to have to own him as an
American!" exclaimed Lucilla.
"Didn't the British despise him, papa?" asked Elsie.
"Yes, many of them did--regarding him with scorn as a reptile unworthy
of that esteem which a high-souled traitor, a traitor because of great
personal wrong, might claim.
"You remember Arnold had said when he left the breakfast table at the
Robinson House that he was going to West Point. Shortly after his
departure Washington came in. On being told that Arnold had gone
across the river to West Point, he took a hasty breakfast, then said
he would go over again and meet Arnold there. Hamilton did not go with
the others, and it was arranged that the general and his suite should
return and all take dinner there.
"As they were crossing the river Washington remarked that they would
be greeted with a salute, as General Arnold was at the Point; but to
their surprise all was silent when they drew near the landing. Colonel
Lamb, the commanding officer, came strolling down a winding path, and
was quite confused when he saw the barge touch the shore. He
apologized to Washington for his seeming neglect of courtesy, saying
that he was entirely ignorant of his intended visit. 'Sir, is not
General Arnold here?' asked Washington in surprise.
"'No, sir,' replied Colonel Lamb, 'he has not been here these two
days, nor have I heard from him within that time.'
"That aroused Washington's suspicions, but he went around examining
the works at West Point, and about noon returned to the Beverly Dock,
from which he had departed.
"As he was going up from the river to the house, Hamilton was seen
coming toward the party with a hurried step and an anxious, troubled
countenance. He said something to Washington in a low tone; they went
into the house together, and Hamilton laid before the chief several
papers which furnished conclusive evidence of Arnold's guilt. They
were the documents which Arnold had put in Andre's hands. With them
was a letter from Colonel Jameson and one from Andre himself.
"Jameson, thinking Washington was still in Hartford, had sent a
messenger there with these papers. While on the way the messenger
heard of the return of Washington, and, hurrying back, took the
nearest route to West Point through Lower Salem, where Andre was in
custody. So he became the bearer of Andre's letter to Washington. He
reached the Robinson House four hours after Arnold had left it, and
placed the papers in Hamilton's hands.
"Washington called in Knox and Lafayette to give their counsel. He was
calm, but full of grief. 'Whom can we trust now?' he said. As soon as
the papers had been examined, Washington despatched Hamilton on
horseback to Verplanck's Point, that an effort might be made there to
stop the traitor.
"But it was too late; Arnold had got nearly six hours the start of
him. When Hamilton reached the Point a flag of truce was approaching
from the _Vulture_ to that post. The bearer brought a letter from
Arnold to Washington. Hamilton forwarded it at once to the
commander-in-chief, then wrote to Greene, who was at Tappan, advising
him to take measures to prevent any attempt the British might make to
carry out the traitor's plans.
"But the plot had failed; and when Sir Henry Clinton heard of it the
next morning, on the arrival of the _Vulture_ at New York, knowing
that the Americans must now be wide awake to their danger, he gave up
all thought of carrying out his scheme for getting possession of West
Point."
The captain paused in his narrative, and Eric asked, "What did Arnold
write to Washington about, uncle?"
"To ask protection for his wife and child, and to say that love for
his country had actuated him in this thing."
"Humph! a queer kind of love I should say," sneered the boy.
"Yes; a love that led him to do all in his power for the utter
destruction of her liberties."
"And was Washington good to his wife and child?"
"Yes, very kind and sympathizing; and she was soon able to rejoin her
husband--going down the river to New York with her babe.
"Washington promptly sent orders to General Greene to march with his
portion of the army toward King's Ferry. Greene did not get the order
before midnight, but by dawn his whole division was on the march.
Washington sent a letter to Colonel Jameson also, telling him to send
Andre to Robinson's house under a strong guard. That order also was
received at midnight; Andre was aroused; and, though the night was
very dark and rain falling fast, a guard under Major Tallmadge set off
with the prisoner. They rode the rest of the night, and reached their
destination at dawn of the 26th. On the evening of that day Andre was
taken over to West Point, and on the morning of the 28th to Tappan.
But we have already finished his story."
"I wish our folks could have got Arnold and punished him!" exclaimed
Eric.
"Didn't they even try at all, uncle?"
"Yes, and came very near succeeding," said the captain. "You will find
an interesting story about it in Lossing's 'Field Book of the
Revolution.'"
"Oh, please tell it to us now!" cried several young voices; and the
captain kindly complied.
"There was a very strong feeling of sympathy for Andre, both in the
army and among the people outside of it," he said, "and, along with
that, anger and disgust toward Arnold--the arch-traitor--and a strong
desire to punish him as his wickedness deserved. There were various
plans made to capture him--some of them secret, some open. It was
while the army was still at Tappan that the one I just spoke of was
undertaken. There were only three persons--Washington, Major Henry
Lee, and Sergeant Champe--who knew of it.
"The idea was Washington's. He had learned that Arnold's quarters in
New York were next door to those of Sir Henry Clinton, and that the
traitor seemed to feel so safe that he was not very cautious and
watchful. Major Henry Lee was the commandant of a brave legion of
cavalry, a man in whose prudence, patriotism, and judgment Washington
knew he could confide; for he had already intrusted to him the
delicate service of ascertaining the truth of flying rumors that other
officers of high rank were likely to follow Arnold's wicked example.
"'I have sent for you, Major Lee,' Washington said to him, 'in the
expectation that you have in your corps individuals capable and
willing to undertake an indispensable, delicate, and hazardous
project. Whoever comes forward on this occasion will lay me under
great obligations personally, and in behalf of the United States I
will reward him amply. No time is to be lost; he must proceed, if
possible, to-night.'
"He then went on to explain what he wanted, and Lee promptly replied
that he had no doubt his legion contained many men daring enough to
undertake any enterprise, however perilous; but for the service
required there was needed a combination of talent rarely found in the
same individual. He then suggested a plan which was highly approved
by Washington. He said that Champe, the sergeant-major of his cavalry,
was one very well qualified for the service, but he feared that his
sense of personal honor would not allow him to take the first step in
the perilous expedition,--desertion,--for he was anxiously awaiting a
vacancy in the corps to receive a promised commission.
"John Champe was a Virginian, a native of Loudon County; he was
twenty-three or twenty-four years of age; he had enlisted in 1776; he
was a grave, thoughtful man and as unlikely as anyone to consent to do
anything ignominious. Lee sent for him at once, told him what
Washington wanted, and used all the eloquence of which he was master
to persuade him to undertake the perilous work. Champe listened with
the closest attention and evident excitement, and, when Lee had
concluded, said that he was charmed with the plan and the proposed
results; then went on to say that he was ready to attempt anything for
his country's good, no matter how dangerous, that did not involve his
honor; but the idea of desertion to the enemy and hypocritically
espousing the king's cause was an obstacle in his way too grave to be
disregarded; so he must ask to be excused.
"Lee earnestly replied to these arguments; told him that desertion at
the request of his beloved commander, and for such reasons, carried
with it no dishonor; it was a laudable purpose; success would bring
him personal honor, and the stain upon his character would last only
till prudence would allow the publication of the facts.
"A great deal of persuasion was necessary, but at last Lee succeeded;
Champe consented to undertake the perilous task, and they at once set
about the necessary preparations.
"Washington had his instructions already drawn up. They were read to
Champe, he taking note of them in such a way that no one else could
understand their true meaning. He was to deliver letters to two
persons in New York, unknown to each other, but who had both been long
in Washington's confidence. He was to procure such aid in bringing
Arnold away as he deemed best, but was strictly enjoined to forbear
killing the traitor under any circumstances.
"All these matters having been settled, they next considered the
difficulties that lay in Champe's way between the camp and the enemy's
outposts at Paulus Hook. There were many pickets and patrols in the
way, and often parties of American irregulars in search of booty or
adventure. Major Lee could not offer Champe any aid against these
dangers lest he should be charged with favoring his desertion; so the
sergeant was left to manage his flight as well as he could without
help, Lee only doing what he could to delay pursuit as long as
possible after it should become known that the sergeant-major had
deserted.
"It was eleven o'clock at night when Champe took his orderly book, his
cloak, and valise, and, with three guineas in his pocket,--given him
by Lee,--mounted his horse secretly and started on his perilous
expedition. Lee went at once to his bed, but not to sleep. He was
doubtless much too anxious and excited for that. Within an hour the
officer of the day, Captain Carnes, came hurrying in to tell him that
one of the patrols had fallen in with a dragoon, who, on being
challenged, put spurs to his horse and escaped.
"Lee was slow in replying; pretended to be very weary and drowsy--only
half awake. In this way he detained the captain for some little time
before he seemed fairly to understand what was wanted. Then he
ridiculed the idea that one of his dragoons had deserted; for such a
thing had occurred only once during the whole war.
"But the captain would not be convinced by any such arguments, and by
Lee's reluctant orders immediately mustered a squadron of horse,
satisfied himself and Lee that one had deserted, and that it was no
less a personage than Champe, the sergeant-major, who had decamped
with his arms, baggage, and orderly book.
"Captain Carnes ordered an immediate pursuit. Lee delayed the
preparations as much as possible, and, when all was ready, ordered a
change in the command, giving it to Lieutenant Middleton, a young man
of so tender a disposition that he would no doubt treat Champe
leniently should he catch him.
"Champe, however, was not caught. These delays had given him an hour's
start of his pursuers. It was a bright starry night and past twelve
o'clock when Middleton and his men mounted their horses and spurred
after him.
"Lossing tells us that the horses of Lee's regiment were all shod by a
farrier attached to the corps, and every shoe, alike in form, had a
private mark put upon it; so the footprints of Champe's horse were
easily recognized; for a fall of rain at sunset had effaced other
tracks, and often before it was light enough to see them readily, a
trooper would dismount and examine them. Ascending a hill near the
village of Bergen, they saw from its summit their deserting sergeant
not more than half a mile away. Champe saw them at the same moment,
and both he and they spurred on as rapidly as possible. They were all
well acquainted with the roads in that part of the country. There was
a short cut through the woods to the bridge below Bergen. Middleton
divided his party, sending a detachment by the short road to secure
the bridge, while he and the others pursued Champe to Bergen. As
Paulus Hook could not be reached without crossing the bridge, he now
felt sure of capturing the deserter.
"The two divisions met at the bridge and were much astonished to find
that nothing was to be seen of Champe. He knew of the short cut,
thought his pursuers would take it, and therefore decided to give up
the plan of joining the British at the Hook and take refuge on board
of one of two of the king's galleys that were lying in the bay about a
mile from Bergen.
"Middleton hurried from the bridge to Bergen, and asked if a dragoon
had been seen there that morning. He was told that there had been one
there, but nobody could say which way he went from the bridge. They
could no longer see the print of his horse's shoes, and for a moment
were at a standstill. But presently a trail was discovered leading to
Bergen; they hurried on, and in a few moments caught sight of Champe
near the water's edge, making signals to the British galley. He had
his valise containing his clothes and his orderly book lashed to his
back. When Middleton was within a few hundred yards of him he leaped
from his horse, threw away the scabbard of his sword, and, with the
naked blade in his hand, sped across the marsh, plunged into the deep
waters of the bay, and called to the galley for help. In response to
that a boat with strong oarsmen was quickly sent to his help, and
directly he was in the galley with all the evidences of his desertion.
"Before night he was safely quartered in New York, having arrived
there with a letter from the captain of the galley to Sir Henry
Clinton in which the scene of his escape from the American troopers
was described.
"Middleton's men picked up Champe's cloak and the scabbard of his
sword, then caught his horse and returned with it to Tappan. As Lee
caught sight of the articles he took them to be evidence that Champe
had been killed, and was grieved at the thought; but his grief was
turned into great joy when he learned from Middleton that the sergeant
had escaped safely on board one of the enemy's galleys.
"Four days later a letter in a disguised hand, and without signature,
came to Lee. It told of the occurrences of Champe's escape, and Lee
knew it was from him.
"The British were much pleased with the desertion of Champe, as they
knew that Lee's legion was considered very faithful and that
therefore this desertion was an evidence of increasing defection among
the American troops. Champe did what he could to increase the idea by
adroit answers to questions asked of him, giving the impression that
he had a strong desire to serve the king. Clinton gave him a couple of
guineas, and advised him to call upon Arnold, who was engaged in
raising an American legion to be composed of loyalists and deserters.
Arnold received him politely, gave him quarters among his recruiting
sergeants, and invited him to join his legion. Champe begged to be
excused from that, saying that if caught by the rebels he would surely
be hanged; but added that if he changed his mind he would surely join
his legion.
"Champe soon found means to deliver the letters Washington had
entrusted to him, made arrangements with one of the correspondents to
aid him in his designs upon Arnold; then communicated with Major Lee,
telling him that he had made inquiries in regard to those who were
suspected of beginning to favor the enemy, and learned that there was
no foundation for the report. Soon he enlisted in the traitor's
legion that he might have free intercourse with him and learn his
night habits and pursuits. He soon discovered that it was Arnold's
custom to return to his quarters about midnight and then to visit a
garden at the back of his house which extended down to the edge of the
river. Adjoining the garden was a dark alley leading to the street.
All this seemed favorable to Champe's design. He arranged with two
accomplices a plan which seemed feasible: a boat was to be in
readiness on the river; they were to seize and gag Arnold, carry him
through the alley, and from there through the most unfrequented
streets to the river; and should anyone attempt to interfere with them
on the way they were to represent him as a drunken soldier whom they
were taking to the guardhouse. When once they had reached the boat
there would be no further difficulty.
"Champe was to remove some of the palings in the garden fence and
replace them so slightly that they could be easily, quietly, and
quickly taken out when desired. When all was arranged he wrote to Lee
and appointed the third subsequent night for the delivery of the
traitor on the Jersey shore.
"No doubt Lee was well pleased, and on that evening he and a small
party left the camp with three accoutred horses--one for Arnold, one
for Champe, and one for the man who was assisting him--and concealed
themselves at a place agreed upon in the woods at Hoboken. There they
remained hour after hour until dawn, but no Champe and no prisoner
appeared. They were much disappointed, but a few days later Lee
received a letter from Champe telling how their plan had failed, and
assuring him that nothing could be done in the matter at present.
"He said that on the very day when his plan was to have been carried
out Arnold changed his quarters in order to superintend the
embarkation of troops for an expedition southward to be commanded by
himself. In this expedition the legion in which Champe had enlisted in
order to carry out his plans was to take part, and the poor fellow was
in a sad dilemma. Instead of crossing the Hudson that night with the
traitor as his prisoner, he had been obliged to go on board a
transport with that traitor as his commander; and that to fight
against, instead of for, his country."
"Oh, papa, did he go and fight against his country?" asked Elsie,
drawing a long breath of surprise and sympathy.
"He had to allow himself to be carried to Virginia along with the
troops of the enemy, and, I suppose, to go into battle with them,"
replied the captain; "but I dare say he was careful not to shoot any
of the Americans. He watched his opportunity to desert, and after a
time succeeded in so doing. He went up into the mountains of North
Carolina, and when Lee and his legion were pursuing Lord Rawdon, he
joined them. His old comrades were greatly astonished to see him--a
deserter, as they supposed--and that Major Lee gave him a most cordial
reception. But the truth was soon told, and then his old corps showed
the greatest love and admiration for him. They were very proud of him,
but he was discharged from service because it was very certain that
the British, if they could get hold of him, would hang him."
"Is he alive now, papa?" asked Ned.
"Oh, no, my son; he died in 1798--a hundred years ago. At that time we
were threatened with a war with France, and Washington, appointed to
the chief command of our armies, sent to Colonel Lee to inquire for
Champe, intending to make him a captain of infantry. But it was too
late; the brave and gallant soldier had gone to another world."
"Dear man! I hope he went to heaven!" exclaimed Little Elsie in
quivering tones.
"I hope so," responded her father.
There was a moment of silence, presently broken by Ned. "Papa, you
know you promised to tell about Nathan Hale; please won't you do it
now?"
"I will," replied the captain. "He was a fine, brave, good young man;
described as very handsome--six feet tall, perfectly proportioned,
light-blue eyes beaming with intelligence, roseate complexion, and
soft light-brown hair. He was overflowing with good humor, and always
ready to help anyone in distress. He received a good education, his
father wishing him to enter the ministry; but he was teaching school
in New London when the news of the Battle of Lexington came. A town
meeting was at once held, and Hale was one of the speakers. He urged
prompt action, saying, 'Let us march immediately, and never lay down
our arms until we have obtained our independence.'
"He took part in the siege of Boston, and was made a captain in
January, 1776. He went to New York and did good service there. Early
in the fall, in response to a call from General Washington, he
volunteered to enter the British lines and procure intelligence.
Disguised as a schoolmaster and loyalist, he visited all of the
British camps on Long Island and in New York, openly making
observations, drawings, and memoranda of fortifications. When he had
about finished his work, he was seized by the British and taken before
Sir William Howe. On the evidence of papers found in his shoes, he was
condemned as a spy, and Sir William ordered him to be hanged. He asked
for a Bible, but it was refused him, nor would they let him see a
minister. He had written letters to his sisters and to his betrothed,
but his cruel captors destroyed them before his eyes. That last was
done by William Cunningham--one of the most notoriously cruel Tories
of the war. He afterward gave as his reason for that act of cruelty
that he meant the rebels should never know they had a man who could
die with such firmness.
"As Hale mounted the scaffold he said,'You are shedding the blood of
the innocent; if I had a thousand lives I would lay them down in the
defence of my injured, bleeding country'; and his last words were, 'I
only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.'
"A country that may well remember him with love and pride," said
Grandma Elsie.
"Oh, what wicked, wicked things they do in war times!" sighed Little
Elsie.
"Yes," said her grandma; "war is itself a wicked thing: wholesale
murder--sometimes on both sides, always on one."
"When the folks on one side are fighting for freedom, that's right,
isn't it?" asked Eric.
"Yes; everyone not a criminal has a right to life, liberty, and the
pursuit of happiness."
"Is it right to hang a man just for being a spy?" asked Ned.
"Not always, I'm sure," exclaimed Eric. "It wasn't right to hang
Nathan Hale, I'm sure, for he was a good man, and only doing what he
could to save his country."
"Very true," said his father; "and he is now one whose memory is
cherished and honored, while that of Cunningham--his cruel
executioner--is abhorred."
"I'd rather be entirely forgotten than remembered as a cruel, wicked
wretch!" exclaimed Eric.
"Yes; as any right-minded person would," said his father.