Elsie on the Hudson Part 9

"'Upon that,' continued Paulding, 'I told him I hoped he would not be offended; that we did not mean to take anything from him; and I told him there were many bad people on the road, and I did not know but perhaps he might be one,' Paulding also said that he asked the person his name, and was told that it was John Anderson. He added that if Anderson had not already told that he was a British officer, he would have let him go on seeing Arnold's pa.s.s. He also said that he understood the pulling out of the watch to mean to show that he was a British officer; not that he was offering it to his captors.

"Williams too gave his testimony in regard to the occurrences. 'We took him into the bushes,' he said, 'and ordered him to pull off his clothes, which he did; but on searching him narrowly we could not find any sort of writing. We told him to pull off his boots, which he seemed to be indifferent about; but we got one boot off and searched in it, but could find nothing. But we found that there were some papers in the bottom of his stocking next to his foot; on which we made him pull his stocking off, and found three papers wrapped up. Mr.

Paulding looked at the contents, and said that he was a spy. We then made him pull off his other boot, and there we found three more papers at the bottom of his foot, within his stocking. Upon this we made him dress himself, and I asked him what he would give us to let him go. He said he would give us any sum of money. I asked him whether he would give us his horse, saddle, bridle, watch, and one hundred guineas. He said Yes, and told us he would direct them to any place, even if it was that very spot, so that we could get them. I asked him whether he would not give us more. He said he would give us any quant.i.ty of dry goods, or any sum of money, and bring it to any place that we might pitch upon, so that we might get it. Mr. Paulding answered, "No; if you would give us ten thousand guineas, you should not stir one step."

I then asked the person who had called himself John Anderson if he would not get away if it lay in his power. He answered, "Yes, I would." I told him I did not intend he should. While taking him along we asked him a few questions, and we stopped under a shade. He begged us not to ask him questions, and said that when he came to any commander he would reveal all.

"'He was dressed in a blue overcoat,' Williams went on to say, 'and a tight bodycoat that was a kind of claret color, though a rather deeper red than claret. The b.u.t.tonholes were laced with gold tinsel, and the b.u.t.tons drawn over with the same kind of lace. He had on a round hat, and nankeen waistcoat and breeches, with a flannel waistcoat and drawers, boots and thread stockings.'

"North Castle was the nearest military post, and there they took Andre and delivered both the man and the papers they had found upon him to Lieutenant Colonel Jameson, the officer in command.

"It seems hard to understand how Jameson could be so foolish as to decide as he did, to send the prisoner immediately to Arnold. He knew that some of the papers were in Arnold's undisguised handwriting, and it seems unaccountable that the circ.u.mstances under which they had come into his hands should not have opened his eyes to the treachery of that officer. He wrote a letter to Arnold saying that he sent a certain Mr. Anderson forward under the charge of Lieutenant Allen and a guard, Anderson having been taken while on his way to New York; adding, 'He had a pa.s.sport signed in your name, and a parcel of papers taken from under his stockings which I think of a very dangerous tendency.' He went on to describe the papers and to say that he had sent them to Washington.

"Major Tallmadge, who was next in command to Jameson, was that day on duty farther down the river. When he returned in the evening and heard of the circ.u.mstances, he was filled with astonishment at Jameson's folly, and boldly expressed his doubts of Arnold's fidelity. He offered to take upon himself the entire responsibility of acting on the belief of his guilt, if Jameson would consent. But Jameson refused to allow anything that would seem to imply distrust of Arnold.

"Then Tallmadge earnestly begged of him to have the prisoner brought back. Jameson gave an unwilling consent to that, but insisted on forwarding his letter and informing the general why the prisoner was not sent on. That was the letter Arnold received in time to enable him to make his escape to the _Vulture_.

"Jameson at once sent an express after Lieutenant Allen, who had Andre in charge, directing him to take his prisoner back to headquarters at North Castle.

"When Major Tallmadge saw Andre, and noticed his manner and gait as he paced the room, he felt convinced that he was a military man and more than ever certain that Arnold was indeed a traitor. He talked the matter over with Jameson and partly convinced him. The result was the removal of Andre to Colonel Sheldon's quarters at North Salem, as a more secure place.

"There Andre wrote a letter to Washington, giving his name and rank and a brief account of the occurrences which had brought him into his present situation. This he handed to Major Tallmadge, who learned with astonishment that his prisoner was the adjutant-general of the British Army.

"The letter was sealed and sent to General Washington, and the prisoner seemed to feel relieved. In obedience to an order from Washington, Andre was taken to West Point and kept there until the morning of the 28th, when he was conducted to Stony Point and from there, under a strong escort, to Tappan. Major Tallmadge commanded the escort and rode by Andre's side all the way. He and Andre were about the same age and held the same rank in their respective armies. They talked on the way as familiarly as possible. Andre told Tallmadge that he was to have taken part in the attack on West Point if Arnold's plans had succeeded; that he had asked no reward but the military glory to be won by such service to his king, though he had been promised the rank and pay of a brigadier-general if he had succeeded.

He inquired earnestly of Tallmadge what would probably be the result of his capture. In reply Tallmadge reminded him of the fate of the unfortunate Captain Hale.

"'But you surely do not consider his case and mine alike?' said Andre.

"'Yes, precisely similar, and similar will be your fate,' replied Tallmadge.

"The prospect of that--the being branded as a spy--greatly distressed poor Andre; he seemed to feel it the very worst part of his sad fate."

"To be called a spy, papa?" asked Ned.

"Yes; it is an odious name, and in his case would not have the excuse that it was work undertaken for the salvation of his country, as it was in that of Nathan Hale."

"Nathan Hale? Who was he, papa? and what did he do?"

"I must go on with this story now, and you shall learn that of Captain Hale at another time," replied his father.

"Washington now made arrangements for the security of West Point, then went to the army at Tappan. There he called together a board of general officers and directed them to inquire into the case of Andre and report to him, stating in what light they thought the prisoner should be regarded and what his punishment should be. That court was convened at Tappan on the 29th of September, and Major Andre arraigned before it. He made a plain statement of the facts, acknowledged and confirmed the account he had given in his letter to Washington, confessed that he came ash.o.r.e in the night and without a flag, and answered the question whether he had anything further to say in regard to the charges against him by the remark, 'I leave them to operate with the board, persuaded that you will do me justice.'

"He was sent back to prison while the board deliberated long and carefully over the question of his guilt. Their final verdict was that 'Major Andre, adjutant-general of the British Army, ought to be considered as a spy from the enemy, and that agreeably to the law and usage of nations, it is their opinion that he ought to suffer death.'

"The next day Washington's approval of the decision was given, accompanied by the order that the execution should take place on the following day at five o'clock P. M."

"What a pity!" exclaimed Grace. "I think I have read that our officers felt sorry for him and would have been glad to spare his life. Was it not so, papa?"

"Yes," the captain said. "There was a general desire on the part of the Americans to save his life, and I think no one desired it more earnestly than Washington, if it could have been done in a manner consistent with his public duty. The only way to accomplish that was by exchanging him for Arnold, and holding the latter responsible for the acts of his victim. A formal proposition of the kind would not answer,--Washington could not make, nor Clinton accept it,--but a plan to attempt such an arrangement was decided upon. A trusty officer of the New Jersey line, Captain Aaron Ogden, was given a packet of papers by Washington containing an official account of Andre's trial, the decision of the board of inquiry, and Andre's letter to his general.

Ogden was told to choose his escort of men known for their fidelity, then go to Lafayette for further instructions.

"Lafayette was in command of the light infantry and stationed nearest to the British. He instructed Ogden to travel so slowly that he would not reach Paulus Hotel till near night, and he would be invited to stay there till morning. He was then to get into talk with the commandant of the post about this affair of Andre, and suggest that it would be well to exchange him for Arnold if it could be done.

"It all occurred just as planned: the commandant received Ogden courteously, sent the package across the river, invited him to stay all night, and in the course of conversation Andre's case was introduced.

"'Is there no way to spare his life?' asked the commandant.

"'If Sir Henry Clinton would give up Arnold, Andre might be saved,'

replied Ogden. 'I have no a.s.surance to that effect from General Washington, but I have reason to know that such an arrangement might be effected.'

"'On hearing that the commandant left the company immediately, crossed the river, and had an interview with Sir Henry Clinton. It availed nothing, however. Sir Henry at once refused compliance; honor, he said, would not allow the surrender of Arnold--a man who had deserted from the Americans and openly espoused the cause of the king.

"When Ogden mustered his men at dawn the next morning a sergeant was missing. He had deserted to the enemy during the night. There was no time to search for him, and they returned to Tappan without him."

"Did he go over to the British, papa? Oh, what a naughty man!" cried Ned.

"That was what his fellow-soldiers thought," returned the captain with a smile. "But he was really obeying Washington, who wanted him to obtain in that way some very important information. A paper had been intercepted in which was the name of General St. Clair, mentioned in such a way as to excite suspicion that he was connected with Arnold's treason. The sergeant, who was an intelligent man, soon discovered that there was no ground for such suspicion, and that the paper which had excited it was designed by the enemy to fall into Washington's hands and excite jealousy and ill-feeling among the American officers.

The papers were traced to a British emissary named Brown.

"Sir Henry Clinton was much distressed on reading Washington's despatch and the letter of Andre. He summoned a council of officers and it was at once resolved to send a deputation of three persons to the nearest American outpost to open communication with Washington, present proofs of Andre's innocence, and try to procure his release.

General Robertson, Andrew Elliott, and William Smith were the men chosen as the committee, and Beverly Robinson went with them as a witness in the case. Toward noon, on the last of October, they arrived at Dobbs Ferry, in the _Greyhound_ schooner, with a flag of truce.

"General Greene had been appointed by Washington to act in his behalf, and was already at the ferry when the _Greyhound_ came to anchor.

General Robertson opened the conference with great courtesy of manner and flattering words, and was going on to discuss the subject of conference, when General Greene politely interrupted him by saying, 'Let us understand our position. I meet you only as a private gentleman, not as an officer, for the case of an acknowledged spy admits of no discussion.'

"With that understanding the conference was carried on, the British saying what they could in Andre's favor, but bringing forward nothing that affected the justice of his sentence. Then a letter from Arnold to Washington was produced. It was impudent, malignant, and hypocritical; menaced Washington with dreadful retaliation if Andre should be executed, prophesying that it would cause torrents of blood to flow, and the guilt of that would be upon Washington. Such a letter could not reasonably be expected to produce any good effect.

"The conference ended at sunset. Robertson expressed his confidence that Greene would be candid in reporting to Washington the substance of what had pa.s.sed between them, adding that he should remain on board the _Greyhound_ all night, and that he hoped that in the morning he might take Major Andre back with him, or at least hear that his life was safe.

"Robertson was overwhelmed with astonishment and grief when early the next morning he received a note from Greene stating that Washington's opinion and decision were unchanged, and the prisoner would be executed that day.

"Sir Henry Clinton wrote to Washington, offering some important prisoners in exchange; but it was too late.

"Andre showed no fear of death, but was very solicitous to be shot rather than hanged. He pleaded for that with touching but manly earnestness, importuning Washington in a letter written the day before his death. It was, however, contrary to the customs of war, and Washington, kind-hearted as he was, could not grant his request.

"Major Andre was executed at Tappan on the 2d of October, 1780, at twelve o'clock. A large detachment of troops was paraded; there was an immense concourse of people present; excepting Washington and his staff, almost all the field officers were there on horseback. There was a strong feeling of pity for the young man, and the whole scene was very affecting. I suppose the general feeling was that he was suffering the punishment that ought, if possible, to have been meted out to Arnold--the traitor."

"I think history says that Andre went through it all very bravely; does it not, captain?" asked Sydney.

"Yes; there was a smile on his countenance as he walked from the stone-house where he had been confined, to the place of execution, and he bowed politely to several officers whom he knew, they returning it respectfully. He had hoped to be shot rather than hanged, and when he suddenly came in view of the gallows he started backward and made a pause. An officer by his side asked, 'Why this emotion, sir?' Andre instantly recovered his composure, and answered, 'I am reconciled to my death, but I detest the mode,' Tears came into the eyes of many of the spectators as they saw him take off his hat and stock, and bandage his own eyes. He slipped the noose over his head, and adjusted it to his neck with perfect firmness. He was then told that he had an opportunity to speak if he wished to do so. At that he raised the handkerchief from his eyes, and said, 'I pray you to bear me witness that I meet my fate like a brave man.' He had said of the manner of his death, 'It will be but a momentary pang,' and so it proved, as, on the removal of the wagon on which he stood, he expired almost instantly. The body was placed in an ordinary coffin, and buried at the foot of the gallows. And the spot was consecrated by the tears of thousands."

"But it doesn't lie there now?" Sydney said half in a.s.sertion, half inquiringly.

"No; in 1831 it was taken up, carried to England, and buried near his monument in Westminster Abbey. But here we are at our temporary home again, and further talk on these interesting historical themes must be deferred until our usual gathering together on the porch for an evening chat," said the captain as the boat rounded to at the wharf below Evelyn's cottage.

CHAPTER VII.