Philip Winwood Part 18

'Twas, after all, a most natural request. A brother may wish to speak to his sister in private, and 'tis more fitting to put a gentleman than a lady to the trouble of an absence. Seeing it thus, and speaking with recovered composure as if nothing were wrong, the captain courteously replied:

"Most certainly. Mr. Russell, after you, sir--nay, no precedence to rank, while we are simply private gentlemen."

He bowed low to Margaret, and we two rode out to the highway, there to pace our horses up and down within call. Of what pa.s.sed between brother and sister, I afterward received a close account.

"I must have a straight answer," Tom began, "for I must not be put to the folly of acting without cause. Tell me, then, upon your honour, has there been reason between you and Captain Falconer for me to fight him? The truth, now! Of course, I shall find another pretext. It looks a thousand to one, there's reason; but I must be sure."

"Why, I think you have lost your wits, Tom," said she. "If a gentleman known to the family happens to meet me when I ride out, and we chance to talk--"

"Ay, but in such a private place, and in such familiar tones, when you scarce ever converse together at home, and then in the most formal way! Oh, sister, that it should come to this!"

"I say, you're a fool, Tom! And a spy too--d.o.g.g.i.ng my footsteps! What right have you to call me to account?"

"As your brother, of course."

"My younger brother you are; and too young to understand all you see, for one thing, or to hold me responsible to you for my actions, for another."

"I understand when your honour calls for my actions, however! Your very anger betrays you. I will kill Falconer!"

"You'll do nothing of the kind!"

"You shall see! I know a brother's duties--his rights, by heaven!"

"A brother has no duties nor rights, concerning a sister who is married."

"Then, if not as your brother, I have as your husband's friend. For, by G.o.d, I _am_ Phil's friend, to the death; and while he's not here to see what's pa.s.sing, I dare act on his behalf. If I may not have a care of my sister's honour, I may of Philip Winwood's! And now I'll go to your captain!"

"But wait--stay, Tom--a moment, for G.o.d's sake! You're mistaken, I tell you. There's naught against Philip Winwood's honour in my meeting Captain Falconer. We have conferences, I grant. But 'tis upon a matter you know nothing of--a matter of the war."

"What nonsense! To think I should believe that! What affair of the war could you have to do with? It makes me laugh!"

"I vow there's an affair I have to do with. What do you know of my secrets, my planning and plotting? 'Tis an affair for the royal cause, I'll tell you that much. Nay, I'll tell you all; you won't dare betray it--you'd be a traitor to the king if you did. You shall be let into it, you and Bert. Call back Captain Falconer and him."

Puzzled and incredulous, but glad to test any a.s.sertion that might clear his sister of the suspicion most odious, Tom hallooed for us.

When we re-entered the glade, Margaret spoke ere any one else had time for a word:

"Captain Falconer, I think you'll allow me the right to admit these gentlemen into the secret of our interviews. They are both loyal, both so dear to me that I'd gladly have them take a part in the honour of our project--of which, heaven knows, there'll be enough and to spare if we succeed."

"Madam," said he, "its chance of success will be all the greater, for the partic.i.p.ation of these gentlemen."

"Well?" said Tom, looking inquiringly at his sister.

"You promise your aid, then, both?" she asked.

"Let us hear it first," he replied.

She obtained our a.s.surances of secrecy in any event, and proceeded:

"Everybody knows what this rebellion costs England, in money, men, and commerce; not to speak of the king's peace of mind, and the feelings of the nation. Everybody sees it must last well-nigh for ever, if it doesn't even win in the end! Well, then, think what it would mean for England, for the king, for America, if the war could be cut short by a single blow, with no cost; cut short by one night's courage, daring, and skill, on the part of a handful of men!"

Tom and I smiled as at one who dreams golden impossibilities.

"Laugh if you will," said she; "but tell me this: what is the soul of the rebellion? What is the one vital part its life depends on? The different rebel provinces hate and mistrust one another--what holds 'em together? The rebel Congress quarrels and plots, and issues money that isn't worth the dirty paper it's printed on; disturbs its army, and does no good to any one--what keeps the rebellion afoot in spite of it? The rebel army complains, and goes hungry and half-naked, and is full of mutiny and desertion--what still controls it from melting away entirely? What carries it through such Winters as the rebels had at Valley Forge, when the Congress, the army, and the people were all at sixes and sevens and swords' points? What raises money the Lord knows how, finds supplies the Lord knows where, induces men to stay in the field, by the Lord knows what means, and has got such renown the world over that now France is the rebels' ally? I make you stare, boys; you're not used to seeing me play the orator. I never did before, and I sha'n't again, for heaven forbid I should be a woman of that kind! But I've studied this matter, and I hope I have a few ideas upon it."

"But what has done all these things you mention? May I ask that?" said I, both amused and curious.

"Washington!" was her reply. "Remove him, and this rebellion will burst like a soap-bubble! And that's the last of my speechmaking. Our project is to remove Washington--nay, there's no a.s.sa.s.sination in it.

We'll do better--capture him and send him to England. Once he is in the Tower awaiting trial, how long do you think the rebellion will last? And what rewards do you think there'll be for those that sent him there?"

"Why," said Tom, "is that a new project? Hasn't the British army been trying to wipe out Washington's army and take him prisoner these four years?"

"But not in the way that we have planned it," replied Margaret, "and that Captain Falconer shall execute it. Tell them, captain."

"'Tis very simple, gentlemen," said the English officer. "If the honour of the execution is to be mine, and the men's whom I shall lead, the honour of the design, and of securing the necessary collusion in the rebel camp, is Mrs. Winwood's. My part hitherto has been, with Sir Henry Clinton's approval, to make up a chosen body of men from all branches of the army; and my part finally shall be to lead this select troop on horseback one dark night, by a devious route, to that part of the rebel lines nearest Washington's quarters; then, with the cooperation that this lady has obtained among the rebels, to make a swift dash upon those quarters, seize Washington while our presence is scarce yet known, and carry him back to New York by outriding all pursuit. Boats will be waiting to bring us across the river. I allow such projects have been tried before, but they have been defeated through rebel sentries giving the alarm in time. They lacked one advantage we possess--collusion in the rebel camp--"

"And 'twas you obtained that collusion?" Tom broke in, turning to Margaret. "Hang me if I see how you in New York--oh, but I do, though!

Through brother Ned!"

"You're a marvel at a guess," quoth she.

"Ay, ay! But how did you carry on your correspondence with him? 'Twas he, then, originated this scheme?"

"Oh, no; 'twas no such thing! The credit is all mine, if you please. I make no doubt, he _would_ have originated it, if he had thought of it.

But a sister's wits are sometimes as good as a brother's--remember that, Tom. For I had the wit not only to devise this project, but to know from the first that Ned's reason for joining the rebels was, that he might profit by betraying them."

"Ay, we might have known as much, Bert," said Tom. "But we give you all credit for beating us there, sister."

"Thank you! But the rascal never saw the way to his ends, I fancy; for he's still in good repute in the rebel army. And when I began to think of a way to gain--to gain the honour of aiding the king's cause, you know, I saw at once that Ned might help me. Much as we disliked each other, he would work with me in this, for the money 'twould bring him.

And I had 'lighted upon something else, too--quite by chance. A certain old person I know of has been serving to carry news from a particular Whig of my acquaintance (and neither of 'em must ever come to harm, Captain Falconer has sworn) to General Washington." (As was afterward made sure, 'twas old Bill Meadows, who carried secret word and money from Mr. Faringfield and other friends of the rebellion.) "This old person is very much my friend, and will keep my secrets as well as those of other people. So each time he has gone to the rebel camp, of late--and how he gets there and back into New York uncaught, heaven only knows--he has carried a message to brother Ned; and brought back a reply. Thus while he knowingly serves the rebel cause, he ignorantly serves ours too, for he has no notion of what my brother and I correspond about. And so 'tis all arranged. Through Ned we have learned that the rebel light horse troop under Harry Lee has gone off upon some long business or other, and, as far as the army knows, may return to the camp at any time. All that our company under Captain Falconer has to do, then, is to ride upon a dark night to a place outside the rebel pickets, where Ned will meet them. How Ned shall come there unsuspected, is his own affair--he swears 'tis easy. He will place himself at the head of our troop, and knowing the rebel pa.s.swords for the night, as well as how to speak like one of Major Lee's officers, he can lead our men past the sentries without alarm.

Our troop will have on the blue greatcoats and the caps the rebel cavalry wear--General Grey's men took a number of these last year, and now they come into use. And besides our having all these means of pa.s.sing the rebel lines without hindrance, Ned has won over a number of the rebels themselves, by promising 'em a share of the great reward the parliament is sure to vote for this business. He has secured some of the men about headquarters to our interest."

"What a traitor!" quoth Tom, in a tone of disgust.

"Why, sure, we can make use of his treason, without being proud of him as one of the family," said Margaret. "The matter now is, that Captain Falconer offers you two gentlemen places in the troop he has chosen."

"The offer comes a little late, sir," said Tom, turning to the captain.

"Why, sir," replied Falconer, "I protest I often thought of you two.

But the risk, gentlemen, and your youth, and my dislike of imperilling my friends--however, take it as you will, I now see I had done better to enlist you at the first. The point is, to enlist you now. You shall have your commander's permission; General Clinton gives me my choice of men. 'Twill be a very small company, gentlemen; the need of silence and dash requires that. And you two shall come in for honour and pay, next to myself--that I engage. 'Twill make rich men of us three, at least, and of your brother, sir; while this lady will find herself the world's talk, the heroine of the age, the saviour of America, the glory of England. I can see her hailed in London for this, if it succeed; praised by princes, toasted by n.o.blemen, envied by the ladies of fashion and the Court, huzza'd by the people in the streets and parks when she rides out--"

"Nay, captain, you see too far ahead," she interrupted, seeming ill at ease that these things should be said before Tom and me.

"A strange role, sure, for Captain Winwood's wife," said Tom; "that of plotter against his commander."

"Nay," she cried, quickly, "Captain Winwood plays a strange role for Margaret Faringfield's husband--that of rebel against her king. For look ye, I had a king before he had a commander. Isn't that what you might call logic, Tom?"

"'Tis an unanswerable answer, at least," said Captain Falconer, smiling gallantly. "But come, gentlemen, shall we have your aid in this fine adventure?"

It was a fine adventure, and that was the truth. The underhand work, the plotting and the treason involved, were none of ours. 'Twas against Philip Winwood's cause, but our cause was as much to us as his was to him. The prospect of pay and honour did not much allure us; but the vision of that silent night ride, that perilous entrance into the enemy's camp, that swift dash for the person of our greatest foe, that gallop homeward with a roused rebel cavalry, desperate with consternation, at our heels, quite supplanted all feelings of slight in not having been invited earlier. Such an enterprise, for young fellows like us, there was no staying out of.