University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.
ONE OF THE SPIES.

On quitting the presence of General Washington,
on the night before the execution of
Major Andre, Major Lee at once repaired to
his quarters, and sent for Sergeant Champe,
at the same time issuing imperative orders that
no one should be allowed to interrupt their interview.
In a few minutes Champe was with
the Major, who, without cireumlocution, thus
addressed him:

“Within the hour, Sergeant, I have been
closeted with our commander-in-chief, on an
aflair of great importance. He wishes to
find a brave heart, who will embark on a perilous
but inglorious enterprise, to serve the
common cause. I named you—was I wrong?”

“I freely denote my life to the cause of liberty
and my country,” answered Champe,
proudly, “and I thank you for bringing me
so favorably to the notice of our noble commander.”

“And you are ready to set out this night—
ay, within the hour—on an enterprise full of
peril, with even the chances of ever returning
against you, and without so much as saying
farewell to a single comrade?”

“Major Lee,” answered the noble fellow,
“there are no sacrifices I would not make, in
an honorable venture, to serve my country,
I am a man of few words, and mean what I
say—therefore proceed with your instruction.”

“Well, then, to be brief, it will be necessary,
in the first instance, for you to desert
and go over to the enemy.”

“Desert!” cried Champe, in astonishment,
while a heavy frown gathered on his brow.
“Desert, Major Lee? do I hear aright?”

“You do, Sergeant; for only by desertion
can you accomplish the plan we have in view.
Listen! It is the wish and design of Washington
to seize upon that vile traitor, Arnold,

and bring him to justice. This of course can
only be done by some one, or more than one,
deserting our ranks and joining the British.
There are at present a number of real deserters
from our side, and these no doubt will be
placed under the traitor's command. By
joining them, you will thus be near the person
of Arnold, and can watch all his movements,
and peradventure find an opportunity
to seize him, and take him to the river, where
a boat must be in waiting to convey him across
to Hoboken, and thence he shall be escorted
to head-quarters. You will not be alone in
this business—there are others already among
the enemy, with whom you must communicate,
and who will render you what assistance
they can. This paper contains the instructions
of General Washington himself, in regard
to your proceedings, and it only now remains
for you to say whether you will attempt
the hazardous enterprise or not.”

“Major Lee,” returned Champe, after a
few moments' reflection, “I believe not even
my most bitter enemy would accuse me o
physical cowardice.”

“I would venture to say not,” returned Lee,
not a little puzzled as to what could be the
drift of the Sergeant's remarks; “certainly
not, if he knew you and had any regard for
truth. I do not wish to flatter you, but I
must honestly say, I consider you one of
the very bravest men of my corps, and that
is saying no little.”

“Then it must be moral courage I lack,
Major,” rejoined Champe, reflectingly.

“How so?”

“Why, for the very reason that I do not wish
to undertake this mission. I fear not the personal
risk I should be obliged to run—and
Heaven knows the adventure would be none
of the safest—but to me the idea of desertion
seems terrible. I am ready to peril my life
in my country's cause—but the thought of
periling my honor appals me. And that I
should peril the latter, as well as the former,
even you, Major Lee, can not gainsay. To
succeed in this business, I must indeed desert,
and leave my comrades to believe me a treacherous
villain; and were I to fall, I should fall
ignobly, and they would glory in my death;
and my name, that now stands fair with them,
would become a by-word of reproach. No,
no, Major, do not urge this business upon me
—for, believe me, I would an hundred times
rather suffer death than disgrace.”

“But consider, my dear sir,” pursued Lee,
“what valuable service you would be rendering
your country, in bringing this villainous
general to justice; and remember, too,
that though there are many who might for a
time look upon you as a deserter, yet there
are those, high in power, who will regard your
noble sacrifices aright, and who, should you
fall, which Heaven forefend! will take care to
place your character in its true light; and
then those who may have been loudest in
their denunciations, will be loudest in your
praise, And should you succeed, what honor
would redound to you for such a glorious
achievement, together with a name and fame
immortal. Consider well all these things, and
that, though you may suffer a temporary disgrace,
yet the time may soon come when you
will be able to wipe away all dishonor, and
stand forth to the world a noble example of
what a true heart may dare to do in the cause
of freedom and his country. Unless you undertake
this business, I fear me I shall not be
able to find another so every way competent,
and I shall the more deeply regret it, that I
have almost pledged myself to General Washington
on your behalf, and already he counts
on you to push the hazardous undertaking to
a successful issue. If you refuse, I fear the
scheme will fail—for honestly I know of no
other so well capacitated to carry it out. You
are a man of tried courage, cool, steady, persevering,
shrewd, full of resources, and inflexible.”

“I fear you overrate my abilities,” replied
the Sergeant, modestly; “but since your heart
is so strongly set upon the matter; and since,
as you say, from your representation, the
commander-in-chief looks upon me as engaged
in the enterprise; and since I shall be
doing my country some service, I will agree
to go, on one condition.”

“Name it,” said Lee.

“That should it unfortunately happen I do
not live to return, you now solemnly pledge
yourself to vindicate my honor—for that is
dearer to me than life.”

“On my honor, as a gentleman and a soldier,
I sacredly pledge myself to the terms
proposed,” answered Lee, emphatically.

“Enough! Where are my instructions?”

“In this paper, in the handwriting of
Wasbington himself;” and Lee handed the
Sergeant the document, which, not an hour before,
had been placed in his hands by the
commander-in-chief. “It will be your safest
plan,” he continued, “to commit the instructions
to memory—otherwise the paper might
fall into the hands of the British, which would
be proof sufficient to condemn you as a spy.”

Champe immediately drew near a table, in
the center of the tent, on which stood a light,
and twice read the paper carefully through.
This done, he held it to the flame, and in a
moment it was reduced to ashes.

“Have you not been too hasty?” asked Lee.

“No, Major, it is here, where it will never
be effaced save with life,” returned the Sergeant,
tapping his forehead with his finger.
“I know the whole plan, I approve of it, and,
to the best of my poor abilities, I will endeavor
to execute it. In the arrangement of
every part, I perceive the wisdom of our
great chief. Well, the die is cast. I go
soon. Farewell, Major Lee—it may be we
shall never meet again.”

“Farewell,” returned the other, grasping
the extended hand of the noble Sergeant.
“Farewell, my friend, but I hope only for a
season. Bear with you the remembrance,
that you leave two warm friends behind, who
can appreciate you as you deserve—General
Washington and my humble self.”

“Thank you; I desire none better;” and
with a hasty step, Sergeant Champe quitted
the tent of his commanding officer.

The night was dark and cloudy, which so
far favored the design of the Sergeant; but
unfortunately there were signs of rain, which,
if it fell, would be certain to make the road
soft, and leave palpable traces of the course
he had taken. But nothing daunted, now
that he had settled upon his course, Champe
moved stealthily forward to his quarters; and
getting his valise, and such other articles as
he most needed, he proceeded to the picket,
at no great distance, withdrew his horse,
bridled and saddled him, mounted, and dashed
away upon the run.

He had not gone above a hundred yards,
when he was challenged by a sentinel. Without
reply, he buried his rowels in the horse's
flanks, and, with an angry snort, the animal
bounded away with increased speed. The
sentry fired, the ball whizzed through the air,
close to the sergeant's head, but fortunately
missed both him and his beast, and the next
moment he was out of sight.

Soon after Champe quitted the tent of Lee,
the latter, being somewhat fatigued, for the
day had been a busy one with him, laid down
upon his rude couch, and endeavored to compose
himself to sleep. But he felt feverish
and restless, and could not avoid thinking of
Champe, and speculating on what might be
the result of his daring adventure. In Champe
personally he took a deep interest, aside from
his official capacity as his own orderly, and he
felt great solicitude for his success, both on the
score of friendship and as it concerned the
welfare of the country. If the Sergeant could
only get a few hours' start, before being missed,
he reasoned, he would be comparatively safe;
and he listened eagerly for any sound that
might be taken as evidence to the contrary.
The report of the sentry's gun he did not
hear; and when some three quarters of an
hour had elspsed, since Champe departed from
his tent, he began to congratulate himself that
all had gone well; but just at this moment he
heard his name spoken aloud, and Captain
Carnes, the officer of the day, entered his
marquee in haste.

“Well?” demanded Lee, partly rising from
his couch.

“Pardon me, Major, for so rudely disturbing
you,” answered the new-comer; “but the
fact is, a dragoon of our corps has just made
his escape, and I have come for your written
orders to pursue him.”

“What proof have you, Captain, that any
one has fled?”

“Why, he passed the patrol on horseback,
at a full run, and refused to answer when
challenged. The sentry fired, but missed
him, and then hastened to inform me what
had occurred. I immediately ordered a party

to get ready for pursuit, and, as I said before,
have come hither for your written orders.”

“Poh! poh!” said Lee, anxious to create as
much delay as possible: “the sentry has been
drinking, doubtless, and mistaken some frightened
countryman for a dragoon.”

“No, sir, the man was sober, for I questioned
him closely, and know by his answers,
which were brief and straight forward.”

“And who do you suspect has fled?”

“I do not know, of course—but I can soon
ascertain.”

“Well, find out; and if it is really as you
report, you shall have my orders with as little
delay as possible. But it will all turn out a
bug-bear story, depend upon it—although, if
otherwise, you can let me know. Heigh ho!
I feel very much fatigued, and I was just getting
into a dose as you came in.”

“But duty, you know, Major Lee—”

“Certainly, sir,” interrupted the other—
“certainly, I understand all that, and of course
you are excused, and, if the matter turns out
as you suspect, deserve much credit for your
promptness and vigilance. There, go, and
ascertain the truth as soon as you please.”

Captain Carnes departed; and the moment
he was alone, Lee muttered:

“Poor fellow! I fear for his safety now—
though I will delay the pursuit as long as I
can without exciting suspicion.”

Some half an hour elapsed, and Captain
Carnes returned in haste.

“I am sorry to say,” he said, speaking rapidly,
“that my suspicions were well founded.
Since I left you, I have assembled my command,
and, much to my regret and astonishment,
find Sergeant Champe missing.”

“Sergeant Champe!” repeated Lee, in well-affected
surprise: “my orderly sergeant missing?—impossible!”

“True, upon my honor! Strange though
it seem, in one who apparently had the good
of his country so much at heart, I doubt not
the follow has all along played the hypocrite,
and has now fled to the British to join that
scoundrel Arnold. But if you will be kind
enough to hasten with your written instructions,
we may yet overtake him. It has just
begun to rain, and that is in our favor; for if
we can once get upon his track, we can keep
it, as the shoes of his horse, like those of all
the rest of our corps, have a private mark, by
which we can distinguish them from all others,
and in the soft, moist ground the mark
will of course be conspicuous.”

Lee, finding no excuse for longer delaying
the pursuit, arose, in apparent haste, but managed
to make even his haste prevent a quick
completion of what he was about to do; for in
arranging his writing materials, he accidently,
as he seemed, upset the ink, and the captain
was obliged to go for his own. At last, however,
the order was written out, and delivered
to the captain. It was to the effect, that
Champe should be taken alive, and brought
directly to the Major's quarters—though, in
the event of his making a stout resistance, or
attempting to escape after being captured, the
party in pursnit were duly authorized to use
extreme measures.

As soon as this document was placed in the
hands of Captain Carnes, that officer hastened
to the party in waiting, and handed it to Lieutenant
Middleton, who was deputed the leader
of the pursuing detachment, the Captain repeating
the contents, that no further delay
might be occasioned by stopping to peruse it.
The word was then given, and away dashed
the dragoons, taking the direction of the deserter,
as reported by the patrol.

That night was one of painful anxiety and
feverish restlessness to Major Lee. He could
not sleep; and for hours he paced the earthen
floor of his tent, in no enviable frame of mind.
Morning came, but brought no intelligence of
either the pursuers or the pursued. The day
wore slowly away, and about three o'clock in
the afternoon, as the Major was sitting in his
tent alone, he heard a loud, long, triumphant
shout, amid which he could distinguish the
words, uttered in bitter tones:

“The scoundrel is killed! the scoundrel is
killed!”

“My God!” groaned Lee, in terrible agony
of mind: “have I then been the means of
dooming this brave, generous, and noble fellow
to an ignominious death! Oh! Heaven
help me! I shall never forgive myself.”

He buried his face in his hands, and for a

few moments fairly sobbed aloud. Then
rising, he tottered, rather than walked, to the
door of his marquee, expecting to find his
worst fears confirmed. He beheld Captain
Carnes and Lieutenant Middleton approaching
him, the latter leading a horse and bearing
on his arm a cloak, both of which he instantly
recognized as belonging to Champe.

“Alas! alas!” groaned Lee, mentally: “the
Sergeant is dead, sure enough, and they came
to bring me the supposed joyful tidings. Oh!
if they could but see my poor heart in this trying
moment! Well? well?” he hastily added
aloud, as the officers came up, both of
whom observed that his features were very
pale, and that he seemed much agitated.

“We pursued the villain closely, as these
troplies bear evidence,” said Middleton; “but
the scoundrel escaped us for all that.”

“Thank God!” ejaculated Lee, catching his
breath; and then, bethinking him what he had
said, he added, quickly—“that he did not get
off scott free.”

“It was a race of life and death,” returned
Middleton—“but the fellow bad too much the
start of us; though, I'm thinking, he will remember
the pursuit to the latest day of his
life.”

“Doubtless,” rejoined the Major, turning
back into his tent to conceal the joy he felt at
hearing this intelligence. “Come in, gentlemen;
come in, and tell me all about it. Seats,
gentlemen. There, proceed.”

“We had little difficulty in getting on his
trail,” pursued Middleton, “though unfortunately
he had an hour the start.”

“Ay, very unfortunate that,” chimed in
Lee, “and all owing to myself, too, I believe.
Well, you found his trail!”

“Yes, the rain made it eonspicuous; but
at every place where the road forked, or another
crossed it, we were obliged to halt and
examine the greund, to be sure we did not
miss his route. This of course delayed us
considerably—so that, notwithstanding we
rode hard all night, we did not get in sight of
the fugitive till just after daylight. At this
time we ascended a steep hill, and, to our great
delight, we espied the scoundrel on the brow
of another, about half a mile ahead of us. As
luck would have it, he saw us at the same mo
ment, and spurred on with all his might. We
pressed forward, and the race became terrific
—he seeking life, we revenge.

“So certain were we now of overtaking
him, and also that he would continue straight
on, that we no longer thought of examining
the road; but when we reached the spot where
we had first seen him, we dashed forward in
reckless confusion, not doubting that when we
turned an angle in the road, about a quarter
of a mile ahead, he would again be in sight.
We soon turned the angle, but were much disappointed
to behold the road straight before
us for nearly a mile, but no Champe. I now
looked down for the prints of his horse's feet,
and, judge of my vexation and chagrin when
I perceived that no horse had sassed along
there since the rain.

“I now ordered a halt, and sent a part of the
men back to take his trail, while the rest of us
kept on, hoping to find a way soon to turn off
to the river and head him, for I rightly conjectured
he had taken that direction. About
an hour after, the party sent back joined me
at a cross road, a little above Bergen, where
we again came upon the tracks of the fugitive,
he having reached there, apparently, by a
short cut across some open fields. We again
set forward together, and soon came in sight
of the deserter, near the river, pushing with
all his might for a British galley that lay
anchored out in the stream. He saw us, and
that unless he could reach the vessel, his case
was hopeless, for, from some cause, his horse
was very much blown, while ours seemed comparatively
fresh.

“While making his last desperate effort for
the river, he unlashed his valise from his saddle,
and strapped it to his own back; then, as
his horse drew up on the bank of the stream,
he leaped over his head into the water, struck
out for the vessel, and called upon the crew
thereof for assistance. We were now within
good musket shot, and I ordered the men to
unsling their carbines, and, the moment we
halted, to give him a volley. Scon after we
fired a round, but unfortunately missed him.
Meantime boats had put out to his assistance,
and the galley opened a fire on us to cover
them. The result of the adventure is, that
we captured his horse and cloak, but had the

mortification to see him get safely on board
the enemy's vessel.”

“Well, you did well, Lieutenant,” replied
Lee, “and I shall take care to report you in
the same light to our commander-in-chief.”

“I thank you, Major,” rejoined Middleton,
`and assure you I sincerely regret that you
will be obliged to report our failure also.”

“Well, let him go,” said the Major—“let
him go. True, I would have liked to have
made an example of him—but otherwise I feel
all traitors can well be spared.”

Shortly after this, the two officers took their
leave, and, with a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving,
for the safety of the noble sergeant,
Major Lee set out for head-quarters, to communieate
the result of Champe's perilous adventure
to the American chief.