“There can be no question in my mind,” returned Arnold, now that he had been assured of his allowance and his commission. “We can raise a force and take West Point by regular attacks. I shall prepare plans and submit them to you for approval.
“Then,” continued Arnold, “the Colonies can not hold out against the resources of Great Britain. We must fight until the tide of victory turns our way. We cannot afford to lose. We must win.”
“What do you think about the situation, Mr. Barclugh?” asked General Clinton, turning to the special agent of His Majesty’s government, graciously.
Barclugh drew himself up to his full height and said bitterly, for he felt that both of the men before him had made a mess of his plans:
“Gentlemen, if you want my candid opinion, I am forced to say that you will not conquer the American Colonists if you fight from now until doomsday. They are simple, fearless people, liberty-loving and self-sacrificing. They have no need of money. They live next to nature and fight and exist wholly within their own resources.
“My mission to the Colonies has been made utterly unsuccessful since our plot failed. One cannot understand the temper of the people until he has lived among them as I have. The mothers and maidens, as well as the men, are fighting for their land. There may be a few malcontents among them, like our new friend here (pointing over his shoulder with his thumb toward Arnold), but they are only loud talkers and boasters, and carry no weight.”
Arnold scowled at Barclugh, and General Clinton’s ire began to gather force when the color mounted into his thick neck and his wine-flushed face, as he exclaimed:
“What! do you mean to tell me, sir, that His Majesty’s armies can never conquer the Colonies? Impossible! Sir, impossible!”
“That’s what I mean,” responded Barclugh coolly.
“Do you mean to imply, sir, that the forces under the command of General and Sir Henry Clinton, K. B., are not able to carry out the King’s commands?” demanded General Clinton.