The Poems of Philip Freneau Volume II Part 7

_Maj. Andre._ Excellently well imagined. I hope it may succeed. The money shall be paid you on your arrival at York; but there is another service Sir Henry would fain hope you could indulge him in, and your reward shall be double.

_Arnold._ What may it be?

_Maj. Andre._ He is eager to be possessed of your Commander-in-Chief.

Could you contrive no way to get him into our hands? He is the soul of this obstinate rebellion. Were he a prisoner to us, America would soon be ours again.

_Arnold_ (_pausing_). Why, true, it would greatly facilitate the recovery of the colonies. Let me see. I will endeavour to prevail upon him to spend a day or two at Robinson's home. Nay, I am sure he will be here next Monday, and the garrison. There are a number of disaffected people not far from hence, whom I can engage to secure his person and convey him on board the _Vulture_ ship of war.

_Maj. Andre._ If we become by your means possessed of these two jewels, General Washington and this important fort, we shall never think the obligation sufficiently acknowledged. You will become the greatest man in the world. Britain will adore you. She will kiss the very ground you tread upon, besides lavishing wealth upon you by millions.

_Arnold._ She is heartily welcome to such poor services as I can render her. What I do is from principle, from the consciousness of a rect.i.tude of heart and love to my country.

_Maj. Andre._ Sir, you were born to be a great man. Now, if you will be pleased to deliver me the plan of the fort, signals of recognizance and other papers of consequence in this affair, I will be going. I do not think myself safe till such times as I get within the British lines again.

_Arnold._ The danger is trifling. With a pa.s.sport from me, you may go anywhere in these colonies.

_Maj. Andre._ Sir, I thank you. It may be of service indeed.

_Arnold._ I will write it immediately. There, sir; and here is the packet. I will not detain you, because I know the business requires dispatch. You will, however, sup with me, and take a gla.s.s of wine before you go.

_Maj. Andre._ I shall hardly have time; however, I will wait half an hour.

_Arnold._ Walk with me into this other apartment; we soldiers do not stand upon ceremony. But how do you carry these papers so as to conceal them in case you meet with any over-curious persons?

_Maj. Andre._ I have an expedient. I can carry them in the foot of my boot. Do you see how snug they lie?

[_Putting them on_

_Arnold._ Aye, faith, that was well thought of; but do not put the pa.s.sport in your boot.

_Maj. Andre._ No, no. That goes into my pocket.

SCENE II.--_An ancient stone building in the Dutch taste. Three officers_, VINCENT, AMBROSE, ASMITH. VINCENT _and_ ASMITH _entering_.

_Am._ Well are we met in these sequestered wilds; Whence come ye, brothers, at so late an hour?

_Vin._ From scouring all the country up and down, To seize, if fortune please, illicit traders, Who are so bold and unscrupulous grown That oft in open day, as well as night, They bear large cargoes of provision down To yonder ships that still infest our river.

How I detest these underhanded scoundrels, Who, hungry as the grave for British gold, Feed the vile foe that lurks within our harbours.

_Am._ G.o.ds! Can they be so base,--but there are they Who sell their country for a mess of pottage,-- A servile, scheming race whose G.o.d is gain, Who for a little gold would stab their fathers And plunder life from her who gave them life.

These are not true Americans. They are A spurious race--sc.u.m, dregs, and b.a.s.t.a.r.ds all.

They are not true Americans, I say.

_As._ They cannot be, they help toward our ruin.

But, gentlemen, I'll tell you what I think; We have so many lurking foes within, And such a potent enemy without, That I almost despair, I must confess, That ever we shall rend these thirteen States From persevering Britain, and compel Acknowledgment of independence here.

_Vin._ Say not so.

The rights of humanity, 'tis these we fight for, And not to carry ruin round the globe.

Appearances are so much in our favour That he who doubts that this event shall be, Must be as blind as he whose useless...o...b.. Have never drank the radiated light.

Nay, he who doubts of this, who dares to doubt (If nature be not ----[37] to miracles And devils rule with delegated sway) Deserves not nor is worthy to enjoy The paradise we look for.

_Amb._ Be it so.

But let us leave the great event to fate, Who soon or late will bring to light its purpose; Our duty to our country must be done, And in so doing we its freedom hasten.

But, friends, why stay we here? By yonder stars That still revolving point toward the pole, I find it must be midnight.

_Vin._ I do expect a score of peasants here, A set of hardy, bold, and faithful fellows, Whom I can trust in all emergencies.

In different parties I shall these despatch Toward the hostile lines, for I suspect That intercourse too often doth subsist Between our disaffected and the foe.

_Amb._ And are these peasants armed?

_Vin._ Armed with a musquet and a bayonet; A true and desperate soldier wants no more.

_As._ And thirty cartridges to every man, With three days' victuals in their knapsacks stored.

_Amb._ It is enough. I hope they will not tarry.

SCENE III.--_A number of armed peasants in an outhouse._

_1st P._ Do you know what we are sent for, brother Harry?

_2nd P._ To go on some secret expedition, I suppose.

_1st P._ And which way shall we bend, think ye?

_2nd P._ G.o.d bless you. Why do you ask such a question? It is not for us to know where we are going. We shall know bye and bye, I warrant you, after we have marched two or three score of miles.

_1st P._ And where are our officers?

_2nd P._ They are in the adjoining house. They will be with us presently.

_3rd P._ And how shall we pa.s.s the time till they come?

_2nd P._ O, merrily enough. We can dance and sing.

_1st P._ Harry, you can sing. Give us a song.

_2nd P._ [_Sings_

Ours not to sleep in shady bowers,[38]

When frosts are chilling all the plain, And nights are cold and long the hours To check the ardor of the swain, Who parting from his cheerful fire All comforts doth forego, And here and there And everywhere Pursues the prowling foe.

_2nd P._ How like you that?

_3rd P._ O, very well. I love to hear anything that touches upon the hardships of a soldier's life.

_4th P._ Give us the rest; give us the rest. I love that song, Harry.