CHAPTER V.
"How many would like to take another trip up or down the river to-morrow?" asked Captain Raymond, as they sat together on the front porch after leaving the tea table.
"Every one of us, I presume, captain," said Grandma Elsie, with a smiling glance from one to another of the eager, interested faces about them.
"Oh, yes; yes, indeed, we would!" exclaimed several voices, Mrs. Leland adding, "We could hardly contrive a more delightful way of spending the time; there are a number of historic spots which would be interesting ones to visit."
"Tarrytown and the other places connected with Arnold's treachery," suggested Violet.
"Fishkill, too, is a historically interesting place," said her mother.
"West Point also," remarked Lucilla. "Papa took Max and me there once, but I should not at all object to going again."
"I think we can visit all the places mentioned within the next few days," said her father; "and we need not decide until to-morrow morning which we will take first."
"In the meantime we may talk the matter over, I suppose, and see what the majority is in favor of?" remarked Lucilla inquiringly.
"I think that would be a good plan," said her father. "Let everyone feel at perfect liberty to give his or her opinion."
"I think we could hardly find a more interesting locality to visit than Fishkill," said Grandma Elsie. "Though perhaps a longer sail may be thought desirable."
"We could supplement it with as long a one as we might find agreeable, by passing on either up or down the river, upon returning from the shore to the yacht," said the captain.
"Why, yes, so we could," said Violet; "and I think it would be very enjoyable."
"Papa, what is there to see at Fishkill? and what happened there in the Revolution?" asked Elsie Raymond.
"Quite a good deal," replied the captain. "Fishkill village lies five miles eastward from the landing of that name, on a plain near the foot of the mountains. Those high mountains sheltered it from invasion in the time of the Revolution, and it was chosen as a place of safe deposit for military stores. Also for the confinement of Tory prisoners and others captured by strategy or in skirmishes upon the neutral ground in West Chester. For a while too a portion of the Continental Army was encamped there; also the State Legislature met there at one time."
"Was the camp in the town, papa?" asked Grace.
"No; the barracks were about half a mile south of the village. The officers had their quarters at the house of a Mr. Wharton, and the barracks extended along the road from there to the foot of the mountains."
"Is not that vicinity the scene of many of the incidents given in
Cooper's 'Spy'?" asked Mr. Leland.
"Yes," replied the captain. "Enoch Crosby was a spy who did good service to his country in that capacity, and is supposed to have been the original of Cooper's spy—Harvey Birch. In the Wharton House, Crosby at one time went through a mock trial by the Committee of Safety, and was then confined in irons in the old Dutch church in the village. It was in the autumn of 1776 he began his career as spy in the service of his country by learning the plans and purposes of the Tories and revealing them to his Whig friends. In that neighborhood, at that time, secret foes were more to be feared than open enemies, but for a long time Crosby mingled with the Tories, learning their plans and purposes, without being suspected by them; they thought him as much an enemy to his and their country as they were themselves. Lossing tells us that while on one of his excursions he asked lodging for the night of a woman who proved to be a Tory; and that from her he learned that a company of Tories was being formed in the neighborhood with the intention of marching to New York and joining the British Army. He seemed delighted with the idea and most anxious to join the company. He gained the confidence of its captain and learned all his plans. It seems that after their talk they retired to bed; but Crosby did not immediately fall asleep. When all had grown quiet, so that there was reason to suppose everyone else was asleep, he rose and stealthily left the house, hastened to White Plains, where lived the Committee of Safety, and told them what he had just learned of the plans of the Tories. He also suggested that they should hold a meeting the following evening and send a band of Whigs to arrest the Tories and himself as though believing him to be one of them. That plan was carried out; they were all made prisoners, taken to Fishkill, and confined in the old stone church. I believe that church is one of the relics of the Revolution which yet remain.
"When the arrested men were taken there the Committee of Safety was already at the Wharton House prepared to try them. They held an examination of the prisoners after which they—Crosby among the rest—were sent back to their prison. Seemingly by accident, he was left alone with the Committee for a few minutes and the plan was concerted by which he might escape.
"At the northwest corner of the church was a window hidden by a willow. He reached the ground through that, got rid of his loose manacles, sprang out of his concealment, and rushed away past the sentinels with the speed of a deer. The sentinels fired a few shots after him, but missed him in the gloom; and he escaped unhurt to a swamp."
"Oh, that was good!" cried Eric. "Did he have any more such escapes, uncle?"
"Yes; twice after that he was made a prisoner with Tories, but managed to escape each time. At one time Colonel Van Cortlandt was stationed with a detachment of troops on the east side of the Hudson, to watch what was going on upon the Neutral Ground. One day Crosby was with a part of that detachment near Teller's Point and the mouth of the Croton River, when they saw a British sloop of war come sailing up the stream. It cast anchor in the channel opposite. Crosby and six others then went to the Point, where all but one concealed themselves in the bushes, while the other, dressed in infantry uniform, paraded the beach. Of course the officers on the sloop soon saw and determined to capture him. They promptly sent a boat with eleven men to take him. But as the British landed the American ran. They pursued, not thinking of any danger. Then Crosby and his companions began making a noise in the bushes that made it seem as though they were half a regiment; then they rushed out and called on the enemy to surrender—which they did without firing a shot. The next day the stone church at Fishkill held them as prisoners."
"I suppose Crosby was a born American, uncle?" Eric said inquiringly.
"Yes; born in Massachusetts early in January, 1750."
"That would make him twenty-five a few months before the war began.
But he did not live in Massachusetts?"
"No; his parents moved to New York while he was still an infant. When he grew up he learned the trade of a shoemaker; but when the war broke out he gave up his trade and shouldered a musket. He was living at Danbury then, and was one of the hundred men who in 1775 marched to Lake Champlain and fought battles in that quarter until Quebec was stormed. It was after his return from that expedition that he engaged in the secret service."
"Being a spy?" queried Neddie.
"Yes; but at length finding that his many escapes after being taken prisoner by the Whigs had excited the suspicions of the Tories, he gave up that work and joined a detachment of the Continental Army then stationed in the Highlands."
"I hope he didn't get killed, papa?" said Little Elsie.
"No; he lived through the war, and for many years afterward. In 1827 he was in New York City as witness at a trial in court, and an old gentleman who knew him introduced him to the audience as the original of Harvey Birch—Cooper's spy. That story had been turned into a play, and was then being performed at one of the theatres. Notice was given that Crosby had accepted an invitation to attend the play, and the house was crowded with an audience who warmly greeted the old soldier."
"I'm glad they did," said Elsie. "It must have been pleasant for him, and I'm sure he deserved it; for he had helped a great deal to get us all free. Papa, haven't we just the very best country in all the world?"
"So I think," her father answered with a smile; adding, "and that being the case we ought to be the best people in all the world. Don't you think so, daughter?"
"Yes, indeed, papa; and I mean to try."
"Why not go to Fishkill to-morrow?" asked Sydney.
"All in favor of so doing may say aye," said the captain, glancing around upon the small crowd of hearers, big and little.
"Aye!" exclaimed every voice, and that was followed by a ripple of laughter. As that died down, "We seem to be of one mind," remarked the captain pleasantly. "Well, the yacht will be ready to start immediately after breakfast, if the weather is pleasant. We would hardly wish to go in a storm."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed several voices; "especially as we have plenty of time to wait for a pleasant day."
"Yes," the captain said; "but there is every indication that we will not have to do so—that to-morrow will prove as fine a day as we could wish; and I suggest that our young people—and all older ones who desire plenty of sleep—should retire pretty soon; for we will need to rise early if we want abundance of time for our expedition. The trip on the river will be short, but we will probably want to spend at least half the day on shore."
Everyone followed the captain's good advice; they were all up early next morning and ready to start on their proposed trip in good season.
The weather proved pleasant, no accident befell any of them, and all enjoyed very thoroughly their visit to Fishkill and its vicinity. They visited the Verplanck House—interesting as having been the headquarters of Baron Steuben when the American Army was encamped near Newburgh, and also as the place where the celebrated Society of the Cincinnati was organized in 1783.
"Won't you please tell us something about Baron Steuben, papa?" asked
Elsie Raymond as they were returning from their visit to the Verplanck
House.
"Yes," replied the captain. "He was a German soldier, born in Magdeburg, Prussia. His full name was Frederick William Augustus Henry Ferdinand von Steuben. His father was a captain in the army, and he became a soldier when a mere lad. He saw and took part in a great deal of fighting, and in 1762 was made aide to Frederick the Great. He took part in the siege of Schweidnitz, and that closed his military career in his own land. He retired from the army, and was living most comfortably on a salary, while we were struggling for our freedom. In December, 1777, he went to Paris, on his way to visit some English noblemen who were friends of his. In Paris he met the French minister of war, who seems to have been a good friend to America, for, knowing that the great weakness of our army lay in the fact that the men lacked discipline and knew little or nothing of military tactics, he tried to persuade Steuben to come to this country and teach them.
"But very naturally the baron was not willing to sacrifice his income and his honors in order to help a cause that seemed so desperate. Yet at length he yielded to Germain's solicitation and promises, and decided to come to the help of the struggling Colonies. He came over on a French gunboat; having a long stormy passage of fifty-five days, the vessel taking fire three times—a very hazardous thing, as there were 1700 pounds of powder on board. Also there was an attempt to mutiny. However, he finally arrived safely at Portsmouth, N. H. He had a warm welcome there, the whole population going out to receive him."
"And did he go right into our army, papa?" asked Elsie.
"He wrote at once to Congress offering his services to the Colonies, saying he had come to this country because he would serve a nation engaged in the noble work of defending its rights and liberties, adding that although he had given up an honorable title and lucrative rank, he asked neither riches nor honors. He called upon Congress, and told them he would enter the army as a volunteer; if his services were not satisfactory, or if the Colonies failed to establish their independence, he was to receive nothing; but if they were successful, and he remained in the army, he expected to be refunded the income he had given up, and remunerated for his services."
"That was a good offer," remarked Eric. "I suppose they accepted it?"
"They did," replied his uncle; "and Steuben went to Valley Forge, where Washington and his army were encamped at that time. When he saw our half-starved, poorly clad soldiers come creeping out of their huts he was astounded, and said 'No European army could be kept together a week in such a state.' But he began his work at once. He did a great work; probably we could never have won our independence without the help he gave us in training our soldiers for the hard struggle necessary to win it. The fine effect of that discipline was seen in the Battle of Monmouth, when Baron Steuben rallied the retreating and disordered troops of Charles Lee like veterans."
"Did he stay in this country till the war was over, papa?" asked
Elsie.
"Yes; and as long as he lived. He made New York City his home for several years. I am ashamed to say that Congress refused to fulfil its contract with him to pay him for his services, but he was given grants of land in New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Virginia. The first he declined to take when he learned that it was the estate of an old Tory who would be left destitute, and in the kindness of his heart he interceded for him. Steuben was very kind-hearted and generous. Lossing gives us some anecdotes illustrative of that. He says that in Newburgh, at the time of the disbanding of the army, Colonel Cochran was standing in the street penniless, when Steuben tried to comfort him by saying that better times would come.
"'For myself,' replied the brave officer, 'I can stand it; but my wife and daughters are in the garret of that wretched tavern; and I have nowhere to carry them, nor even money to remove them.' As Lossing says, 'The baron's generous heart was touched, and, though poor himself, he hastened to the family of Cochran, poured the whole contents of his purse upon the table, and left as suddenly as he had entered.'
"As he was walking toward the wharf a wounded negro soldier came up to him bitterly lamenting that he had no means with which to get to New York. The baron borrowed a dollar, handed it to the negro, hailed a sloop, and put him on board. 'God Almighty bless you, baron!' said the negro as Steuben walked away. Many such stories could be told of the kind-hearted baron."
"What a shame that Congress did not keep the promise it made him when he first came over here!" exclaimed Lucilla.
"Yes; it was a great shame," acknowledged her father; "however, after seven years of delay they allowed him a pension of $2400. Then he retired to his land; he had a whole township near Utica, N. Y. He cleared sixty acres of that, built a loghouse upon it, and made his home there for the rest of his life; though he went to New York every winter. On the 22d of November, 1795, he was making preparation for that yearly visit, when he was stricken with paralysis. Three days afterward he died. In accordance with directions which he had given, he was buried near his house, with his military cloak around him and the star of honor that he always wore on his breast."
"Ah, the dear, good man! I hope he is reaping a great reward in the other world," said Sydney.
"A wish which I think we can all echo from our hearts," responded
Grandma Elsie.