However, he stood in thrilling admiration of this wonderful work of engineering skill which had been built by a nation that the English King had been wont to call barbarous. Here, frowning with cannon, were works that had risen out of a desert in less than two years, and which would have cost the English government five hundred thousand pounds sterling, but they had been built by Americans who did not expect pay.
Immediately above West Point the Hudson flows through two precipitous headlands almost face to face,—one upon the east and the other upon the west bank. After passing these two promontories the river makes a quick turn to the eastward, and then to the southward, thus forming a short bend and then stretching out into a straight reach of several miles.
On the point of land thus projecting into the bend of the river, six redoubts were bristling with cannon. They were located in the form of an amphitheatre, beginning at the lowest ground and extending to the highest summits. As the river here is surrounded by mountains, the construction was planned so that one redoubt commanded the next lower and also the river both up and down stream. A chain was stretched across the channel to stop ships of war. Two lofty heights opposite West Point protected the eastern bank with frowning cannon that overlooked the whole valley. One hundred and fifty cannon were counted by Barclugh in these strongholds, and a goodly part of them were the spoils of the American victory over Burgoyne.
“Was he to succeed in his plans to cause the downfall of such a military position?” recurred to his mind as he sought his horse and nervously turned his steps to the highway. There were now only fifty miles of a journey to King’s Bridge, the first British outpost.
His plans seemed to be working admirably, and he was thanking his luck that he had travelled thus far and no mishaps to block his game had occurred. As his horse galloped nearer the British position his hopes mounted higher, and he saw visions of the future, where he would be emulated for his part in the subjugation of the rebellious Colonists. Surely they would be better off under the protection of the powerful mother country than to pursue the mad career of independence. His reverie was suddenly brought to a termination when he came to a fork in the road where the question as to the wisest course to follow had to be determined.
The roads fork below West Point, and form two parallel routes to New York,—one following close to the Hudson, and the other, five miles back, taking the same direction. Barclugh had to rely on his chart and on his own judgment,—he thought the back road would be less frequented and consequently more to his liking,—so he chose the back road.
Everything went along serenely this day with Barclugh. He passed the last American outpost by simply presenting his passport from Colonel Hamilton and entered the neutral territory infested by roving bands of “cow-boys,” and “skinners,” as they were termed.
Arriving at the Croton River near sundown, Barclugh stopped at an inn kept by a Connecticut dame, whose husband, it was learned afterward, had gone to war to escape death at home from the length of his wife’s tongue.
When Barclugh arrived in sight of the inn he had visions of a square meal; for his ride since sunrise had aroused the demands of nature. But as he dismounted, somewhat of a surprise awaited him at the doorsteps in the person of a smallish woman, having a weazened face, a short, whittled-off nose, little, steel-blue eyes and a large mouth. The lips were thin, colorless and compressed in such a manner that no man dared to dispute her ability to bear down and insist upon her own, sweet way.
Without any preliminaries the woman commenced at Barclugh as soon as she saw him approach: