A little later three or four other officers came in for their suppers, among them Major Simcoe, who had commanded the Queen’s Rangers at Germantown. Their talk, which comfortably ignored me either as a deserter and as beneath their notice, or as an untried recruit, turned upon the ship expedition and the secret of its destination, which latter seemed to have been well guarded, inasmuch as none of those present appeared to know where the fleet would cast anchor.
I surmised that Major Simcoe’s ignorance was assumed, however. He was deep in the counsels of Sir Henry Clinton, and was a well-trusted officer. I noticed that he kept his face pretty well in his plate and joined in the conversation only as he had to, letting the younger men keep the ball rolling.
From this table talk I learned that the work of putting the troops and stores aboard the ships had been going on all day, and was likely to dig deep into the night, though when the actual sailing order was to be given, did not appear. I was concerned about this on only one point, namely, the hope that there might be time for a visit, hurried or otherwise, to the house where I had seen Margaret Shippen’s face at the door and Beatrix Leigh’s at the upper window.
What excuse I should have for intruding into a house whose owner’s name, even, was still unknown to me, I could not imagine. But that the thing must be compassed admitted of no question. After what I had done in Mr. Justice Smith’s glass-roofed rose-house, I should be either a knave or a coward to run away in silence. Moreover, I had not learned why Mistress Beatrix was in New York, or how long she meant to stay, or any of the hundred things her presence at the Smith mansion had put question-marks after.
From what I heard at the supper-table, I judged my time was short. It was Major Simcoe who said that when the troops were all embarked, the officers would have shore leave only until the ebb tide would serve to let the ships drop down the bay. It was here that I ventured to ask about the wind, and if it were favorable; and the major said it was not, but that the fleet would come to anchor in the lower bay to wait for it.
It was while we were still at table that an orderly came with a summons for me. I was to report to Arnold at my earliest convenience,—I marked the word and took courage from it,—and I might delay so long as would be necessary to make all my preparations for going aboard beforehand, to the end that I should not be obliged to return to the tavern later on if time pressed.
I showed Arnold’s note to Castner, and the lieutenant very kindly offered to expedite my affair by looking after my impedimenta; which was light enough, since I had only the clothes I stood in, the civilian’s suit I had bought of the Dutch Jew, and my patriot homespun. I was the more willing to turn Castner loose in my room for the packing up, because there were no papers, plans of fortifications or any other spy’s death-sentences for him to stumble on, and it lent a fine air of sincerity to my new pledge to give him my keys and to tell him to take or leave what he chose.
This left me free to accompany the orderly who had brought Arnold’s note, and the young man, a fine young gentleman who was a son of that Colonel Hetheridge who was killed at the battle of Monmouth, walked with me to the door of Arnold’s quarters.
I found the traitor busily writing, as he seemed always to be at my entrances. And, as on a former occasion, he waved me to a chair and went on pushing the quill like a regimental clerk who had got behind in his records. When he had folded, sealed and superscribed his letter, he turned to me, and I saw that Sergeant-Major Champe had not failed either himself or me in the cross-questioning of the early morning.
“You are quite refreshed, Captain Page?” he began most kindly; and again I caught myself wishing that he would not so persistently show me the likeable side of him. “You are fortunate in having no family ties to break when we turn our backs upon New York. Will you take it as an older man’s weakness if I say that I shall leave my heart behind me when we sail, Captain Page?”