The Loyalist / A Story of the American Revolution

by James Francis Barrett

Neither became aware of the dawn which was about to break through the thicket of fir-trees which bounded the opposite bank of the Hudson. Still the details had not been arranged; the matter of Arnold's reward was still unsettled. There had been various promises of compensation, maintenance of military rank, a peerage or a viceroyalty in one of the colonies, but André was empowered to offer no more than compensation and military rank. With the dawning light, the boatmen became alarmed and refused to take André back to his ship, with the result that the two conspirators were obliged to pass the time until the next night in the house of Joshua Smith.

It so happened that the day brought to pass an unforeseen accident. Livingston, the Colonel of "Congress' Own," in command of the batteries on the opposite side of the river at Verplanck's Point, opened fire upon the Vulture, compelling her to drop down the river. It was necessary, therefore, for Major André to proceed by land down the opposite shore until he had met with his vessel, and so late at night he departed, his uniform and coat exchanged for a disguise, the six papers in Arnold's handwriting crammed between his stockings and feet.

It also happened, by a strange irony of fate, that a party of American soldiers had set out that very morning to intercept a band of robbers who had infested the roadways of this neighborhood, and who had rendered the highways impassable because of their depredations. Near Tarrytown, three of this party confronted a passing traveler, and leveling their muskets at him, ordered him to halt. They were obeyed on the instant, and because of the suspicious manner of the stranger, a complete search of him was made. The set of papers was found in their hiding place, and he was placed under arrest, and sent to North Castle. There the papers were examined, and instead of being sent to General Arnold himself, were forwarded to His Excellency, who was known to be lodged at West Point. At the same time a complementary letter was sent to General Arnold, informing him of what had taken place.

He was at breakfast when the news was brought him. The letter was crumbled in his hand as he hastily arose from the table and rushed to Peggy's room where he acquainted her of his fate. She screamed and fainted. He stooped to kiss his sleeping child; then rushing from the house was soon mounted and on his way to the place where he knew a barge had been anchored. Jumping aboard he ordered the oarsmen to take him to the Vulture, eighteen miles down the river. Next morning he was safe within the enemy's lines at New York.

III

The minute details of the attempted plot had not filtered into Philadelphia when a demonstration had begun in celebration of its frustration. Spontaneously and exuberantly the citizens of the city gathered in the public square and for several hours the joy-making continued with unabated energy and enthusiasm. Like a flash it seemed that the full realization of what this news had meant broke like a rushing tide upon their consciousness. The country had been threatened; but the danger had been averted.

In a few hours the streets were mad with hundreds of people singing and shouting and marching in unrestrained glee. Bulletins had been posted in the public square acquainting the people of the great facts, yet this did not begin to equal the amount of news which had been relayed from mouth to mouth and grew in detail and magnitude as it went. Chains, trays, broken iron were dragged in rattling bundles up and down the streets amid the laughs and cheers of the mass of humanity that had swarmed upon the roadways and sidewalks.

Marjorie and her father were among the early arrivals on Market Street. Little by little items of information came to them as they alternately talked with their many acquaintances. Out of the many and varied accounts one or two points had stood out prominently—Arnold had attempted to surrender the fortress while Washington was lodged there in the hope that complete disaster would befall the American cause; he had completed negotiations with the British emissary; who was known as Major André, whom the people of Philadelphia associated with the person of John Anderson, a frequent visitor of the Arnolds during their stay in the city; the officer had been taken prisoner by the American forces and the papers found upon him; while Arnold and his wife had escaped to the British forces in the city of New York.

When the gayety seemed to have attained its climax, a procession began to wend its way through the howling crowd. There was no attempt at regular formation, the multitude trailing along in whatever order seemed most desirable to them. In the midst of the line of march, two gaunt figures towered aloft over the heads of the marchers, the one bearing a placard upon which was scrawled the name "Arnold the traitor," the other, "André the spy." These were carried with great acclaim several times around the city until the procession rested at the square, where amid cheers and huzzas they were publicly burned. This seemed to satisfy the crowd, for they gradually began to disperse. The hour was late and Marjorie and her father journeyed homewards, passing the watchman at the corner as he announced the hour, "Eleven o'clock and Arnold is burned."

The state bordering on frenzy into which the mob had been cast was responsible, for the most part, for the violence of the celebration, nevertheless there stood many sober and composed individuals apart from the ranks who had looked on in silent acquiescence during the riotous proceedings. Arnold had fallen to the lowest ebb of infamy and contempt so that even his past services were entirely forgotten. There was no palliation. There were no extenuating circumstances. The enormity of his crime alone mattered. His name could not be mentioned without a shudder.