The storm raging without at times compelled a pause in the conversation. It was nearly midnight when a rapid knocking on the door followed the lull caused by a tremendous thunder-clap.
An officer thrust his head in from the hallway. "Pardon me, your Excellency," he said, "but there's a well-nigh drowned youth here, who claims he has come from Staten Island and bears news of importance."
"Show him in at once," said Washington, pushing back from the map-covered table.
Some of the officers half arose as a bedraggled figure entered. Barefooted, clad only in his shirt and trousers, with a big smooch of black paint covering half his face, the messenger drew himself up at attention.
"Well, sir," said the General, "what have you to tell, my lad?"
"I have just come from the British fleet," was the reply. "They are landing twenty thousand men on Long Island near Gravesend, your Excellency."
In a few words he told his story, and great was the excitement. In obedience to an invitation, the bearer of the tidings had sat down in a corner of a big sofa. The water dripped from his soaked clothing.
"Here, one of you gentlemen take this brave lad and find him something warm and dry to wear," spoke the Commander-in-chief, kindly.
One of the aides arose. "I have nothing but a spare uniform," he remarked, as the two went out into the hall and climbed the stairs to a little room on the third floor.
In a few minutes they returned, each dressed in the full uniform of a lieutenant.