The Loyalist

  CHAPTER VI

  I

  "Father! Father! Where are you? Arnold has betrayed! He has betrayed hiscountry!"

  Breathless, Marjorie rushed into the hallway, leaving the door ajarbehind her. It was late in the afternoon of a September day. The air wassoft and hazy, tempered with just the chill of evening that comes atthis time of the year before sundown.

  More than two months had passed, months crowded with happiness which hadfilled her life with fancy. Her engagement to Captain Meagher had beenannounced, quietly and simply; their marriage was to take place in thefall. Day after day sped by and hid themselves in the records of timeuntil the event, anxiously awaited, yet equally dreaded, was but a baremonth distant. It would be a quiet affair after all, with no ostentationor display; but that would in no wise prevent her from looking herprettiest.

  And so on this September afternoon while she was visiting the shops forthe purpose of discovering whatever tempting and choice bits of warethey might have to offer, she thought she heard the blast of a trumpetfrom the direction of the balcony of the old Governor's Mansion.Attracted by the sound, which recalled to her mind a former occasionwhen the news of the battle of Monmouth was brought to the city bycourier and announced to the public, she quickened her steps in thedirection of the venerable building. True, a man was addressing thepeople who had congregated beneath the balcony. Straining every facultyshe caught the awful news.

  Straightway she sped homewards, running as often as her panting breathwould allow. She did not wait to open the door, but seemed to burstthrough it.

  "What was that, child?" her father asked quickly as he met her in thedining-room.

  "Arnold ... Arnold ..." she repeated, waiting to catch her breath.

  "Has betrayed, you say?"

  "West Point."

  "My God! We are lost."

  He threw his hands heavenwards and started across the floor.

  "What is it, Marjorie?" asked the mother, who now stood in thepassageway, a corner of her apron held in both hands, a look of wonderand suspicion full upon her.

  "No, Father!" the girl replied, apparently heedless of her mother'spresence, "West Point is saved. Arnold has gone."

  "Let him go. But West Point is still ours? Thank God! He is with theBritish, I suppose?"

  "So they say. The plot was discovered in the nick of time. Hisaccomplice was captured and the papers found upon him."

  "When did this happen?"

  "Only a few days ago. The courier was dispatched at once to the membersof Congress. The message was delivered today."

  "And General Arnold tried to sell West Point to the British?" commentedMrs. Allison, who had listened as long as possible to the disconnectedstory. "A scoundrel of a man."

  "Three Americans arrested a suspicious man in the neighborhood ofTarrytown. Upon searching him they discovered some papers in thehandwriting of Arnold containing descriptions of the fortress. They tookhim for a spy."

  "I thought as much," said Mrs. Allison. "Didn't I tell you that Arnoldwould do something like that? I knew it. I knew it."

  "Thank God he is not one of us," was Mr. Allison's grave reply. "His actwould only serve to fan into fury the dormant flames of Pope Day."

  "This is an act of vengeance," Marjorie reflected. "He never forgot hiscourt-martial, and evidently sought his country's ruin in revenge.Adversities he could contend with; humiliation he could not endure."

  The little group presented a varied scene. The girl, young, tender, wasplainly animated with a strong undercurrent of excitement which thrilledher entire frame, flushing her cheeks and sparkling in her eyes. Hertender years, her inexperience with the world, her guileless mind andfrank open manner had not yet prepared her for the enormity of the crimewhich had of a sudden been flashed full upon her. For the momentrealization had given way to wonder. She sensed only the magnitude ofthe tragedy without its atrocious and more insidious details. On theother hand there was the father, composed and imperturbable, to whom thedisclosure of this scheme of the blackest treason was but anotherchapter added to the year of disasters which was just coming to a close.His more astute mind, schooled by long experience with the world and itsartifices, had taught him to view the transit of events with a certainphilosophy, a sort of pragmatic philosophy, with reference to the causesand the results of events and how they bore on the practical utility ofall concerned; and finally the mother, who in her devout and pious way,saw only the Holy Will of God working in all things for His own praiseand glory.

  "And they found the dispatches in his own writing?" the father askeddeliberately.

  "In his stockings, beneath the soles of his feet."

  Again there was silence.

  "He is a prisoner?"

  "Of course. He was arrested for a spy. They say he is an Adjutant in theBritish army. He was in full disguise."

  "Hm!"

  Mr. Allison set his lips.

  "I think," continued Marjorie, "that it was the effect of a stroke ofgood fortune. He was taken by three men who were lying in wait forrobbers. Otherwise he might have continued his journey in safety and theplot would have succeeded."

  "Thank God and His Blessed Mother!" breathed Mrs. Allison as she claspedher hands together before her in an attitude of prayer.

  "And Arnold?" methodically asked Mr. Allison.

  "He escaped to the British lines. I do not know how, but it seems thathe has departed. The one important item, which pleased and interestedthe people, was the capture of the spy and the frustration of the plot."

  The father left the chair and began to pace the room, his hands behindhim.

  "It is a bad blow. Too bad! Too bad!" he repeated. "I do not like it,for it will destroy the courage and confidence of our people. Arnoldwas the idol of the army, and I fear that his defection will create agreat change of heart."

  "The army will be better off without him," said Mrs. Allison.

  "I agree with you," was the reply. "But the people may decide in adifferent manner. There is reason for worry."

  "What was the effect of Lee's attempted treason?" spoke up Marjorie."The people loathe him, and he will die an outcast."

  "There is no punishment too severe for Lee. He has been from the startnothing but a selfish adventurer. But the cases are not parallel. Leewas never popular with the army. Arnold, you must remember, was the mostsuccessful leader in the field and the officer most prized by theCommander-in-chief."

  "Nevertheless he will sink as fast as he climbed, I think. The countrymust not tolerate a traitor."

  "Must not! But will not the circumstance alter the case? I say thatunless the proofs of Arnold's treason are irrefutable, the people willbe slow to believe. I don't like it. I don't."

  There was some logic in his argument which began to impress Marjorie.Arnold could exercise a tremendous amount of influence over the army.Whether the strings of loyalty which had united their hearts with hiswould be now snapped by his act of perfidy was the mooted question. As amatter of fact a spirit of mutiny already was beginning to make itselfmanifest. The soldiers of Pennsylvania who were encamped on the heightsof Morristown marched out of camp the following January and set out forPhiladelphia. They were rebuked by Washington, who sent a letter byGeneral Wayne, whereupon they returned to their posts. Later in the samemonth another mutiny occurred among the New Jersey troops, but this,too, was quickly suppressed. Just how much responsibility for theseuprisings might be traced to the treason of Arnold can not be estimated.There is no question, however, that his act was not wholly unproductiveof 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 waswhen she met him," was Mrs. Allison's comment.

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

  "We do not know how much she is concerned with this," announced Mr.Allison, "but her ambition knew no restraint o
r limitation. She has herpeerage now."

  "And her husband?"

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

  "God 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 inexchange six thousand pounds sterling, together with a brigadiership inthe British Army.

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

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

  Accordingly the British sloop _Vulture_ moved up the river as far asStony Point, bearing the Adjutant-General. Arnold had fixed on the houseof Joshua Smith as the place for the meeting. On the night of thetwenty-first of September, he sent a boat to the _Vulture_ which broughtthe emissary shore. In a thick grove of cedars, in the shroud of theblackest night, Arnold waited the return of the rowboat, its oarsmuffled with sheepskins, its passenger on board. The latter spranglightly to the shore, his large blue watchcoat and high boots alonevisible. As he climbed the bank and approached the grove, he threw backhis 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 inPhiladelphia."

  "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. "Mysafety 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 rosterof its garrison."

  Andre took the papers and glanced at them as best he could by means ofthe 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 havegiven my word. That is enough. I have already placed myself in yourhands by these plans and inventories made in my own handwriting. This isall.... No more."

  "General Washington visits here on Saturday?"

  "Yes."

  "The surrender must take place that night."

  Arnold looked fiercely at him. This was one matter which seemedintolerable. To betray his country was treason; to betray his solefriend and benefactor was unknown to him by any name in the Englishlanguage. He refused absolutely. Andre insisted, and the discussionbecame violent.

  Neither became aware of the dawn which was about to break through thethicket of fir-trees which bounded the opposite bank of the Hudson.Still the details had not been arranged; the matter of Arnold's rewardwas still unsettled. There had been various promises of compensation,maintenance of military rank, a peerage or a viceroyalty in one of thecolonies, but Andre was empowered to offer no more than compensation andmilitary rank. With the dawning light, the boatmen became alarmed andrefused to take Andre back to his ship, with the result that the twoconspirators were obliged to pass the time until the next night in thehouse of Joshua Smith.

  It so happened that the day brought to pass an unforeseen accident.Livingston, the Colonel of "Congress' Own," in command of the batterieson the opposite side of the river at Verplanck's Point, opened fire uponthe _Vulture_, compelling her to drop down the river. It was necessary,therefore, for Major Andre to proceed by land down the opposite shoreuntil he had met with his vessel, and so late at night he departed, hisuniform and coat exchanged for a disguise, the six papers in Arnold'shandwriting crammed between his stockings and feet.

  It also happened, by a strange irony of fate, that a party of Americansoldiers had set out that very morning to intercept a band of robberswho had infested the roadways of this neighborhood, and who had renderedthe highways impassable because of their depredations. Near Tarrytown,three of this party confronted a passing traveler, and leveling theirmuskets at him, ordered him to halt. They were obeyed on the instant,and because of the suspicious manner of the stranger, a complete searchof him was made. The set of papers was found in their hiding place, andhe was placed under arrest, and sent to North Castle. There the paperswere examined, and instead of being sent to General Arnold himself,were forwarded to His Excellency, who was known to be lodged at WestPoint. At the same time a complementary letter was sent to GeneralArnold, informing him of what had taken place.

  He was at breakfast when the news was brought him. The letter wascrumbled in his hand as he hastily arose from the table and rushed toPeggy's room where he acquainted her of his fate. She screamed andfainted. He stooped to kiss his sleeping child; then rushing from thehouse was soon mounted and on his way to the place where he knew a bargehad been anchored. Jumping aboard he ordered the oarsmen to take him tothe _Vulture_, eighteen miles down the river. Next morning he was safewithin the enemy's lines at New York.

  III

  The minute details of the attempted plot had not filtered intoPhiladelphia when a demonstration had begun in celebration of itsfrustration. Spontaneously and exuberantly the citizens of the citygathered in the public square and for several hours the joy-makingcontinued with unabated energy and enthusiasm. Like a flash it seemedthat the full realization of what this news had meant broke like arushing 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 andshouting and marching in unrestrained glee. Bulletins had been posted inthe public square acquainting the people of the great facts, yet thisdid not begin to equal the amount of news which had been relayed frommouth to mouth and grew in detail and magnitude as it went. Chains,trays, broken iron were dragged in rattling bundles up and down thestreets amid the laughs and cheers of the mass of humanity that hadswarmed 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 alternatelytalked with their many acquaintances. Out of the many and variedaccounts one or two points had stood out prominently--Arnold hadattempted to surrender the fortress while Washington was lodged there inthe hope that complete disaster would befall the American cause; he hadcompleted negotiations with the British emissary; who was known as MajorAndre, whom the people of Philadelphia associated with the person ofJohn Anderson, a frequent visitor of the Arnolds during their stay inthe city; the officer had been taken prisoner by the American forces andthe papers found upon him; while Arnold and his wife had escaped to theBritish forces in the city of New York.

  When the gayety seemed to have attained its climax, a procession beganto wend its way through the howling crowd. There was no attempt atregular formation, the multitude trailing along in whatever order seemedmost desirable to them. In the midst of the line of march, two gauntfigures towered aloft over the heads of the marchers, the one bearing aplacard upon which was scrawled the name "Arnold the traitor," theother, "Andre the spy." Th
ese were carried with great acclaim severaltimes around the city until the procession rested at the square, whereamid cheers and huzzas they were publicly burned. This seemed tosatisfy the crowd, for they gradually began to disperse. The hour waslate and Marjorie and her father journeyed homewards, passing thewatchman at the corner as he announced the hour, "Eleven o'clock andArnold is burned."

  The state bordering on frenzy into which the mob had been cast wasresponsible, for the most part, for the violence of the celebration,nevertheless there stood many sober and composed individuals apart fromthe ranks who had looked on in silent acquiescence during the riotousproceedings. Arnold had fallen to the lowest ebb of infamy and contemptso that even his past services were entirely forgotten. There was nopalliation. There were no extenuating circumstances. The enormity of hiscrime alone mattered. His name could not be mentioned without a shudder.

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

  "He would never escape the fury of that crowd," Mr. Allison observed tohis 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 woundedleg, 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 broadand charitable soul has no room in him for base designs. Arnold wouldcrucify us if he could, yet we have lived to see him repudiated by hisown."

  "It does seem after all that God takes care of His own. Even the sparrowdoes not fall to the ground."

  Plainly the spirit of the evening had awakened a serious vein of thoughtin the two. They could take no delight in a tragedy so intimatelyinterwoven with pity and compassion. The fate of the two principalactors, the courageous Arnold and the ambitious Andre, erstwhile knownas Anderson, could not fail to touch their hearts. Their lot was notenviable; but it was lamentable.

  "And John Anderson, too," said Marjorie, "I cannot believe it."

  "When the truth is known, I am of the opinion that he will be morepitied and less condemned. Arnold was the chief actor. Andre a merepawn."

  "How brilliant he was! You remember his visits? The afternoon at thepiano?"

  "Yes. He was talented. But to what purpose?"

  "I am sorry."

  And so were the many.