University of Virginia Library

20. CHHPTER XX.
A MISTAKE, AND NIGHT ALARM.

Punctual to the hour of ten, Signor
Carlini made his appearance; and soon after,
Dame Hagold, disguised in male attire, as she
had been the previous night, and accompanied
by the soi disant Henry. The first friendly
greetings over, Captain Milford said:

“We have all met again, thank heaven!
but there is one absent whom I hoped to see.
Ah me! I fear friend Champe's forebodings
are realized—for if possible for him to be here,
he would not be a minute behind the time.”

“I doubt that we see him to night,” replied
Carlini;” for from what I could learn
through the day, there are some important
changes being effected among a portion of
the soldiery, and the probability is, that, on
this account, he has been denied leave of absence.
It seems a pity he enlisted so soon.”

“I must differ with you there, Signor; for
had neither he nor I enlisted, suspicion would
doubtless have been excited, that we came
hither with no right feeling toward the royal
cause.”

“Ah, true, I overlooked that.”

“Well, if Champe comes not,” pursued the
Captain,” we must pursue our plan without
him. But I have neglected to impart to you
some good news. Major Lee, with four true
men, and seven horses, is on the opposite side
of the river, awaiting the result of to-night's
adventure.”

“This is good news, certainly—but how do
you know this, Captain?”

“I have been across the river and seen
him.”

“Then George got through safely?”

“Yes, and is now with him.”

“Thank Heaven!” returned the other, fervently;
“my mind is now more at ease, for I
feared some accident might befal him.”

The conversation of this little band of heroic
spies was carried on in whispers, and
many things were talked over, during the
next half hour, unnecessary for us to detail.
Suffice it to say, that before eleven o'clock
they all separated. Josh accompanied Dame
Hagold to the skiff, which he silently rowed
down to the point agreed upon; and then,
leaving it in her charge, the same as the night
before, he repaired to the rear of Arnold's
dwelling, whither the rest of the party
had gone singly, in order not to excite suspicion,
in the event of being seen and challenged
by any of the sentinels. Carlini had
imparted to each the countersign for the night,
so that there was little risk in meeting the patrols,

unless two or more should be seen together;
and perhaps no danger even then;
but it was judged politic not to make the trial,
since it could just as well be avoided.

Long before the arrival of Josh, Milford
and Carlini had ensconsed themselves in the
shrubbery, leaving Rosalie, still unknown to
the Captain, to watch by the palings without.
Josh drew silently and cautiously to the side
of the soi disant Henry, and in a whisper inquired:

“Is all right, lad?”

“Yes,” was the reply.

No more was said, and a deep silence succeeded.
For nearly an hour, Carlini and
Milford remained at their past, in the shrubbery,
waiting for the appearance of one who
came not. At last, just, as they were about
to despair of seeing him that night, a door in
the rear of the mansion was heard to open
and shut; and though the position in which
they were, rendered it impossible for them to
see if any person issued without, yet, by listening,
with suspended breath, a foot fall in
the garden became faintly audible to their
ears.

“At last,” whispered Milford, pressing the
arm of his companion in a nervous manner,
that denoted the state of his feelings: “At
last we have the object of our solicitude.”

“Be not too sanguine,” was the reply, in
the same manner, “there is many a slip between
the cup and lip. Be ready, be prompt,
be bold, and heaven send us success!”

“Have you the rope and gag disencumbered?
for this must be speedy work.”

“All is prepared, and we must spring and
seize him together. But silence now—he
comes this way. When you shall feel me
squeeze your hand, know that as the signal to
do your duty.

Our friends now remained silent, and quiet,
listening to the sound of foot-steps, which
were evidently nearing them. Presently they
were enabled to perceive the outlines of a
figure, which was rapidly gliding toward that
point of the garden where they were concealed.
The advancing party, all unconscious
of danger, was humming a popular air,
and seemed in good spirits. As he drew near
to the thicket, Carlini felt the hand of his
companion, which he held in his own, tremble
with eager excitement; and he ventured to
say, in the lowest possible whisper:

“Be calm.”

Within ten feet of the thicket, the individual
our friends were watching, paused, and
listened, as if he heard some unusual sound;
and once or twice he seemed on the point of
turning back; but finally, with a half muttered
“Pshaw!” he advanced straight to the
shrubbery.

Carlini now pressed the hand of his companion,
and both bounded from the thicket,
and the next moment the new-comer was
firmly secured in their grasp; but, by some
trifling blunder, the gag, prepared for his
mouth, missed it, and before the error could
be retrieved, he set up an agonizing scream,
shouting:

“Murder! murder! fire! thieves! help!
help!”

At the first sound of his voice, which was
very effeminate, with a foreign accent, both
Carlini and Milford released their hold of him,
in astonishment and dismay; for they needed
no further proof, that he was not the man
they sought, and that therefore they had committed
a fatal mistake.

“It is not the traitor after all,” said Milford.

“Murder! murder! thieves! robbers! help!
help! screamed the frightened varlet, fairly
dancing up and down in wild excitement.

“Hold thy tongue, fool, or I will knife thee
on the spot!” cried Carlini.

But heedless of consequences, the other
only repeated his outcry for help.

“Take that, knave!” said Carlini, in a hissing
tone of passion; and with a blow of his
fist, he laid the other senseless on the earth.

By this time there was considerable of a
stir in the mansion, windows were thrown up,
heads protruded, and the cry of “guard!
guard!” was shouted by some half a dozen
voices.

“Good heavens! I fear we are lost!” cried
Milford, in dismay.

“Quick! quick!” returned Carlini; “we
must save ourselves ere too late;” and as he

spoke, he darted away to the point where
the palings had been removed, followed by the
Captain.

“Fly! fly! oh! for heaven's sake, fly!” cried
an agonized voice: “to the boat! to the boat!”

It was the voice of Rosalie that now spoke,
in undisguised tones of alarm and terror; and
had Captain Milford not been laboring under
intense excitement, he would have recognized
it as the voice of her he loved; but he thought
of nothing now save his own safety, and that
of his friends. As he and Carlini together
reached the alley, they heard the tramp of
men running, some in one direction and some
in another, and at the same moment a musket
was fired, and the alarm-cry raised—

“Turn out, guard! turn out, guard!”

“This way, friends! this way!” cried Carlini,
darting down the alley, followed by Milford,
Josh, and Rosalie.

But ere they reached the cross street that
led to the river, another musket was fired, and
the roll of the drum was heard in three directions,
arousing many a sleeper, and filling
their hearts with terror. Turning down the
street leading to the river, and perceiving
their way clear, as far as their range of vision
could extent, for there was no artificial
light to aid them, the fugatives, with Carlini
still on the lead, ran as fast as they could,
at the same time making as little noise as possible.
But they were not destined to escape
without new troubles; for they had not gone
a hundred yards further, when a sentry suddenly
sprang before them, from behind a tree,
and leveling his musket, cried:

“If ye are true men, stand.”

To stop was to be lost—for their only hope
was to gain the river in advance of their pursuers,
whom they could now hear running behind
them, though at some distance—and
therefore, goaded to desperation, Carlini, who
was as brave as a lion, without replying to
the sentry, rushed toward him, and made a
grasp at his musket. He missed his object; and
the soldier, springing back too or three paces,
with the quickness of lightning, brought his
piece to bear full upon the other's body, and
pulled the trigger. Fortunately for the astrologer,
the gun missed fire; and the next
moment it was wrenched from the sentry's
grasp, and, with a tremendous blow from the
breech, he was stretched senseless on the
half-frozen muddy ground. Leaping over
his prostrate body, Carlini, throwing the useless
weapon aside, shouted:

“On! comrades—on!”

“Here they go—this way—we are on the
right track!” the fugitives now heard shouted
behind them; and the shout was taken up by
another party, some distance off to the right,
who were evidently running to intercept them.
Our friends now strained every nerve to gain
the bank of the river, which was already in
sight, with only here and there a house to intercept
the view in any direction, when a
small party of soldiers suddenly turned the
angle of the nearest building, and fairly
headed them.

“We are lost,” cried Milford, “but I will
sell my life dearly.”

“Divide! divide! each man for himself,
and God for us all!” shouted Carlini.

Acting upon this suggestion, without a moment's
consideration, Carlini, Milford, and
Josh, each took a different direction, there
being no houses here, as we said before, to
prevent. As for poor Rosalie, unable to keep
up with the others, she had fallen far behind;
and providentally, too, as the sequel will show.
At the moment the spies separated, they heard
the voice of the leader of the soldiers in front
of them, commanding them to halt and surrender;
and as they, heeding not his order,
only fled the faster, they heard the words:

“Fire, and pursue them!”

Scarcely was this lest command given, when
the report of half a dozen muskets rang out,
on the still frosty air, and as many bullets sped
whizzing away in the darkness, but fortunately
leaving unharmed those for whom they
were intended. As our friends were now
fairly separated, and running fast, it was necessary
for the soldiers to divide also, and give
chase, or lose them altogether. This was accordingly
done; and each fugitive now had at
least two men in direct and close pursuit of
him, but also the satisfaction of knowing that
their muskets were empty, and consequently
that they could do him little or no harm before

coming to close quarters. But as we can follow
only one of our gallant spies at the same
time, we shall proceed to chronicle the adventures
of our hero, as being best calculated to
interest the reader.

Captain Milford, then, on separating from
his companions, turned off to the right, and
ran across an open plot of ground, which,
from having been soaked with the late rain,
and only partially frozen, was still soft in many
places, often clogged his feet, and, in a great
degree, retarded his progress; but still he
struggled forward manfully, and strove to console
himself with the reflection, that it was as
good for him as for his pursuers.

The latter were not more than twenty yards
behind him; but though somewhat blown
with hard running, Milford succeeded in preserving
this distance, till he struck into a lane,
intended for a street, and which, at this day,
has a compact row of houses on either side,
and is a very busy thoroughfare of the great
metropolis. This, like the other half built street
out of which he had turned to get here, led
direct from Broadway to the river, and as a
matter of course, Milford took the latter direction.
He was still some way below the
point where he hoped to find the boat, to gain
which, in advance of his pursurers, was, in his
view, the only chance he had of saving his
life—for if taken, he felt certain the fate of
poor Andre would be his. The execution of
that unfortunate young man, right in the face
of all protestation and remonstrance on the
part of his influential friends, he keenly felt
would utterly close the door of mercy against
himself, even did not the stern policy of war
demand his life as a sacrificial warning to such
as might think of venturing upon a scheme
as rash as his own.

As Milford turned down the lane already
mentioned, he heard the shouts of others than
those, whom he had been led to hope were his
only pursuers; and glancing back over his
shoulder, he caught a glimpse of three figures,
between him and Broadway, coming toward
him with a speed that seemed to lessen the
distance between himself and them at every
step. He now, indeed felt that all was lost;
for though naturally a fleet runner, he had so
fatigued himself in struggling through the
mud, that he despaired of being a match for
men apparently fresh in the race. But he
was not one to tamely yield while there was
even a bare hope of escape; and consequently
he renewed his exertions, and fled
faster than ever. He was now rapidly descending
a slight declivity, to a hollow or a
level, the darkness not permitting him to tell
which; and as the earth under his feet was
less miry than that he had so recently passed
over, he began to grow more confident of ultimately
baffling his pursurers.

But, also for human calculation! or perhaps
we should rather say, alas for the dawning
hopes of our hero! When he reached
the bottom of the declivity, he was at least a
dozen yards in advance of his nearest pursuer;
and could he have gained the bank of
the stream, which was now only a few rods
distant, he would doubtless have succeeded in
eluding them, even though it had been effected
by jumping into the river, and striking
out boldly for the opposite shore. But fate
had decreed otherwise; for at the third step,
he fell into a slough, and sunk almost to his
arm-pits. He made two or three ineffectual
struggles to extricate himself, and then gave
up in despair, remaining a helpless prisoner,
entirely at the mercy of the soldiers, who,
hearing the plunge, and divining the cause,
took good care to guard themselves against a
like catastrophe.