CHAPTER X
Captain Risk was astir early next morning, called at the office of Roderick Barclugh, and secured the fictitious name for the passport. He then at once went to the office of General Arnold on Market Street.
Arnold was in a happier mood than the day previous. The expectancy of an easy $3000 had given him a chance to see some relief from his hopeless financial entanglements.
From the developments of the past few days he thus reasoned to himself, as he paced nervously up and down his small office floor:
“Wherever that $3000 is to come from there surely must be more for me if my part of the contract were zealously performed. But who can be the person or persons that are carrying through these transactions? Captain Risk is only the skipper of the Privateer Holker; who has the money? I’ll find out, by thunder! Just give Arnold a chance. These pangs of debt gnaw at the very core of my mental existence. I would be honorable, but the slavery of financial obligations drives me to desperate means of relief. Money! money!! money!!! What would I not do just now for 20,000 pounds in gold? Ha, ha! General Washington would not dare to reprimand me for my extravagance. I would not dodge every one then, fearing a demand for that which I have not. Then,—O God, my wife’s social position would be secure. To get money nowadays you must look for it among those who have it,—not among the poverty-stricken Colonists. The English have money and, by thunder, they have gratitude for the services of their generals. If I had been fighting on the English side I would not now have been begging. I would have had a title,—Lord Arnold of Saratoga,—an estate, a pension, and a settled position for myself and family for such services as I rendered at Bemis Heights. Bah! what reward have I now in fighting for the rights of mankind? I ought to fight for the glory of a King; then I would be sensible; Mrs. Arnold tells me so, and she must be right. But then, could I have fought in blinding snowstorm from cake to cake of ice, and travelled over snow in bare and bleeding feet, starved and bled from gaping wounds, for money? Never! never!! But then I was free, reckless, and wedded to the profession of a soldier,—now I am linked to the ambition and tastes of an aristocratic lady. As a man to whom shall be my duty,—to my country or to my wife? Arnold was never a coward,—my wife shall prevail!”
In such a reverie of conflicting thoughts was Arnold wrapped, when a loud rap at the office door caused him to face about and, assuming a military posture, sharply command:
“Come in.”
“Good morning, General Arnold, I am here for the passport, and we are ready to load the flour and to start the messenger to New York. The messenger’s name is Pierre La Fitte,” was the direct, businesslike way in which the little sea-captain approached Arnold.