There was not a ray of hope apparent to tell the Americans whether they were not vainly persisting in a struggle which could have but one termination, torture and death at the stake from the merciless allies of the English General.
As Gansevoort was thus looking from the low log parapet, at the twinkling circle of English fires, he was surprised to hear a low voice from the ditch of the bastion on which he stood, calling him by name. Starting, he hastily asked:
“Who’s there!”
“A friend,” replied the low voice, “with news from Schuyler. Come down to the sallyport, for I must away when I have given my news.”
Without a moment’s hesitation the colonel left the rampart, and hastened down to the sallyport spoken of by the other. This was a low heavy door on the inner side of the ditch, approached by an underground passage, and protected by the fire of two faces of the fort, and the colonel emerged from this, finding himself confronted by a figure of great hight, but thin and attenuated as a specter. This figure was wrapped in a long, flowing cloak, and its face was hidden by a broad, shadowy hat.
Under any circumstances, it is probable that Gansevoort would have felt some distrust of the other, but as it was, he was too eager to hear the news to be particular about how it came.
“The news, quick, man, what is it?” he whispered. “Good or bad?”
“Good,” answered the stranger, in the same low tone. “Read this letter.”
As he spoke, he extended both arms, the shadowy cloak hanging from them, so as to conceal what passed from the view of any lurking besieger. Gansevoort then noticed, for the first time, that the other bore, at his belt, a small dark-lantern. He eagerly grasped the letter which the stranger extended to him, and beheld the well-known bold clerkly hand of General Schuyler. Quickly he ran it over.
[2]“Stillwater, August 15th, 1777.