The Loyalist Part 62

There is no question, however, that his act was not wholly unproductive of its psychological effects.

"I feel so sorry for Peggy," Marjorie sighed.

"The young wife has a sore burden thrown upon her. A sorry day it was when she met him," was Mrs. Allison's comment.

"Strange, I never suspected Peggy for a moment," Marjorie said. "I had been raised with her and thought we knew each other. I am sorry, very sorry."

"We do not know how much she is concerned with this," announced Mr.

Allison, "but her ambition knew no restraint or limitation. She has her peerage now."

"And her husband?"

"The grave of a traitor, the sole immortality of degraded ambition, religious prejudice, treason and infamy."

"G.o.d help him!" exclaimed Mrs. Allison.

II

In July, 1780, General Arnold had been placed in command of West Point; two months later he was safe on board the British sloop-of-war, _Vulture_. He had attempted to betray his country; he received in exchange six thousand pounds sterling, together with a brigadiership in the British Army.

From the time he left Philadelphia until the morning of his flight he had kept up a continual correspondence with John Anderson. Information was at length conveyed to him that Sir Henry Clinton was in possession of advices that the American Commander-in-chief contemplated an advance on New York by way of King's Bridge. Clinton's scheme would allow the army of General Washington to move upon the city, having collected all his magazines at the fortification at West Point, but at a given moment Arnold was expected to surrender the fort and garrison and compel the army of Washington to retire immediately or else suffer capture in the field.

Still Arnold felt that everything was not quite settled between Sir Henry and himself, and wrote accordingly, advising that a written guarantee be forwarded or delivered in person to him by an officer of Sir Henry's staff of his own mensuration. He was informed by way of reply that the necessary meeting might be arranged, and that the emissary would be the Adjutant-General of the British Army.

Accordingly the British sloop _Vulture_ moved up the river as far as Stony Point, bearing the Adjutant-General. Arnold had fixed on the house of Joshua Smith as the place for the meeting. On the night of the twenty-first of September, he sent a boat to the _Vulture_ which brought the emissary sh.o.r.e. In a thick grove of cedars, in the shroud of the blackest night, Arnold waited the return of the rowboat, its oars m.u.f.fled with sheepskins, its pa.s.senger on board. The latter sprang lightly to the sh.o.r.e, his large blue watchcoat and high boots alone visible. As he climbed the bank and approached the grove, he threw back his cloak and revealed the full British uniform of a general officer.

"Anderson?" Arnold exclaimed. "You?"

"No! Andre, Major Andre," was the reply.

"Hm! I thought as much. I suspected you from the moment I met you in Philadelphia."

"Come. Let us finish. I must return before daybreak."

"Where is your disguise? I advised you to come in disguise."

He understood the piercing glance.

"I have come thus under General Clinton's orders," was the reply. "My safety lies in open uniform."

"Let it go at that. Here! I have with me the plans of West Point, together with a full inventory of its armament and stores and a roster of its garrison."

Andre took the papers and glanced at them as best he could by means of the lantern light.

"But I do not see here a written promise to surrender the fortress?"

"No! Nor, by Heaven, you shall not receive it," Arnold snapped. "I have given my word. That is enough. I have already placed myself in your hands by these plans and inventories made in my own handwriting. This is all.... No more."

"General Washington visits here on Sat.u.r.day?"

"Yes."

"The surrender must take place that night."

Arnold looked fiercely at him. This was one matter which seemed intolerable. To betray his country was treason; to betray his sole friend and benefactor was unknown to him by any name in the English language. He refused absolutely. Andre insisted, and the discussion became violent.

Neither became aware of the dawn which was about to break through the thicket of fir-trees which bounded the opposite bank of the Hudson.

Still the details had not been arranged; the matter of Arnold's reward was still unsettled. There had been various promises of compensation, maintenance of military rank, a peerage or a viceroyalty in one of the colonies, but Andre was empowered to offer no more than compensation and military rank. With the dawning light, the boatmen became alarmed and refused to take Andre back to his ship, with the result that the two conspirators were obliged to pa.s.s the time until the next night in the house of Joshua Smith.

It so happened that the day brought to pa.s.s an unforeseen accident.

Livingston, the Colonel of "Congress' Own," in command of the batteries on the opposite side of the river at Verplanck's Point, opened fire upon the _Vulture_, compelling her to drop down the river. It was necessary, therefore, for Major Andre to proceed by land down the opposite sh.o.r.e until he had met with his vessel, and so late at night he departed, his uniform and coat exchanged for a disguise, the six papers in Arnold's handwriting crammed between his stockings and feet.

It also happened, by a strange irony of fate, that a party of American soldiers had set out that very morning to intercept a band of robbers who had infested the roadways of this neighborhood, and who had rendered the highways impa.s.sable because of their depredations. Near Tarrytown, three of this party confronted a pa.s.sing traveler, and leveling their muskets at him, ordered him to halt. They were obeyed on the instant, and because of the suspicious manner of the stranger, a complete search of him was made. The set of papers was found in their hiding place, and he was placed under arrest, and sent to North Castle. There the papers were examined, and instead of being sent to General Arnold himself, were forwarded to His Excellency, who was known to be lodged at West Point. At the same time a complementary letter was sent to General Arnold, informing him of what had taken place.

He was at breakfast when the news was brought him. The letter was crumbled in his hand as he hastily arose from the table and rushed to Peggy's room where he acquainted her of his fate. She screamed and fainted. He stooped to kiss his sleeping child; then rushing from the house was soon mounted and on his way to the place where he knew a barge had been anch.o.r.ed. Jumping aboard he ordered the oarsmen to take him to the _Vulture_, eighteen miles down the river. Next morning he was safe within the enemy's lines at New York.

III

The minute details of the attempted plot had not filtered into Philadelphia when a demonstration had begun in celebration of its frustration. Spontaneously and exuberantly the citizens of the city gathered in the public square and for several hours the joy-making continued with unabated energy and enthusiasm. Like a flash it seemed that the full realization of what this news had meant broke like a rushing tide upon their consciousness. The country had been threatened; but the danger had been averted.

In a few hours the streets were mad with hundreds of people singing and shouting and marching in unrestrained glee. Bulletins had been posted in the public square acquainting the people of the great facts, yet this did not begin to equal the amount of news which had been relayed from mouth to mouth and grew in detail and magnitude as it went. Chains, trays, broken iron were dragged in rattling bundles up and down the streets amid the laughs and cheers of the ma.s.s of humanity that had swarmed upon the roadways and sidewalks.

Marjorie and her father were among the early arrivals on Market Street.

Little by little items of information came to them as they alternately talked with their many acquaintances. Out of the many and varied accounts one or two points had stood out prominently--Arnold had attempted to surrender the fortress while Washington was lodged there in the hope that complete disaster would befall the American cause; he had completed negotiations with the British emissary; who was known as Major Andre, whom the people of Philadelphia a.s.sociated with the person of John Anderson, a frequent visitor of the Arnolds during their stay in the city; the officer had been taken prisoner by the American forces and the papers found upon him; while Arnold and his wife had escaped to the British forces in the city of New York.

When the gayety seemed to have attained its climax, a procession began to wend its way through the howling crowd. There was no attempt at regular formation, the mult.i.tude trailing along in whatever order seemed most desirable to them. In the midst of the line of march, two gaunt figures towered aloft over the heads of the marchers, the one bearing a placard upon which was scrawled the name "Arnold the traitor," the other, "Andre the spy." These were carried with great acclaim several times around the city until the procession rested at the square, where amid cheers and huzzas they were publicly burned. This seemed to satisfy the crowd, for they gradually began to disperse. The hour was late and Marjorie and her father journeyed homewards, pa.s.sing the watchman at the corner as he announced the hour, "Eleven o'clock and Arnold is burned."

The state bordering on frenzy into which the mob had been cast was responsible, for the most part, for the violence of the celebration, nevertheless there stood many sober and composed individuals apart from the ranks who had looked on in silent acquiescence during the riotous proceedings. Arnold had fallen to the lowest ebb of infamy and contempt so that even his past services were entirely forgotten. There was no palliation. There were no extenuating circ.u.mstances. The enormity of his crime alone mattered. His name could not be mentioned without a shudder.

Mount Pleasant was not permitted to remain idle. It soon was seized by the city authorities and rented to Baron Steuben, the disciplinarian of the American Army and the author of its first Manual of Arms. The household furniture, too, had been removed and offered for sale at public auction, while the coach and four was bought by a trader at the Coffee House. Arnold's presence in the city was now no more than a memory--a memory, indeed, but a sad one.

"He would never escape the fury of that crowd," Mr. Allison observed to his daughter as the two journeyed homewards.

"They would surely put him to death."

"If they ever lay hands on him--they might perhaps cut off his wounded leg, but the rest of him they would burn."

She considered.

"I can scarce believe it--it seems too awful."

"Well! I never could see much good in a bigot. A man with a truly broad and charitable soul has no room in him for base designs. Arnold would crucify us if he could, yet we have lived to see him repudiated by his own."

"It does seem after all that G.o.d takes care of His own. Even the sparrow does not fall to the ground."

Plainly the spirit of the evening had awakened a serious vein of thought in the two. They could take no delight in a tragedy so intimately interwoven with pity and compa.s.sion. The fate of the two princ.i.p.al actors, the courageous Arnold and the ambitious Andre, erstwhile known as Anderson, could not fail to touch their hearts. Their lot was not enviable; but it was lamentable.