"The Military Governor, General Arnold, was early initiated into the scheme. For a long time he has borne a fierce grudge against Congress, and he hoped that the several Catholic members of the body might be induced to forsake the American cause. They sought Father Farmer, our good pastor, as chaplain of the regiment, but he refused with mingled delicacy and tact. Indeed, were it not for the hostile state of the public mind, a campaign of violence would have been resorted to; but Arnold felt the pulse of dislike throbbing in the heart of the community and very wisely refrained from increasing its fervor. All possible aid was furnished by him, however, in a secret manner. His counsel was generously given. Many of your names were supplied by him together with an estimate of your financial standing, your worth in the community, your political tendencies, the strength of your religious convictions. And what a comparatively simple matter it was for one thus equipped to accomplish so marvelous and so satisfactory results!
"I repeat, then, General Arnold is strongly prejudiced against us. It is an open secret that Catholic soldiers have fared ill at his hands. Tories and Jews compose his retinue, but no Catholics. I am not critical in this respect for I observe that he is enjoying but a personal privilege. But I allude to this fact at this moment to assure you that this scheme of forming a regiment of Roman Catholic Volunteers is directed solely to subvert the good relations already existing between us and our brethren in arms. The promises made bore no hope of fulfillment. The guarantees of immunity deserve no consideration. The Quebec Act, and for this I might say in passing that we are duly grateful, was never to be extended. In view of these observations, I ask you: are you willing to continue with this nefarious business? Are you?"
"No!" was the interruption. The outburst was riotous. "Arrest the traitor!.. I move we adjourn!.."
Stephen held out his hands in supplication to beseech them to hear him further.
"Please, gentlemen! Just one more word," he pleaded.
They stood still and listened.
"Has it occurred to you, let me ask, that the vessel which has been engaged to transport you to the city of New York is named the Isis, a sloop well known to sea-faring men of this city? She is owned by Philadelphia citizens and manned by a local crew. Does not this strike you as remarkably strange and significant, – that a vessel of this character should clear this port and enter the port of the enemy without flying the enemy's flag? Think of it, gentlemen! An American vessel with an American crew employed by the enemy, and chartered to aid and abet the enemy's cause!"
They resumed their seats to give their undivided attention to this new topic of interest. Some sat alert, only partly on the chair; some sat forward with their chins resting in the palms of their hands. So absorbed were all in astonishment and amazement, that no other thought gave them any concern save that of the vessel. The side door had opened and closed, yet no one seemed to notice the occurrence. Even Stephen had failed to observe it.
"As a matter of fact," he continued, "the ship has not been chartered by the enemy. She is about to clear this port and enter the port of the enemy by virtue of a pass issued through General Arnold… Please, just a moment, until I conclude," he exclaimed, holding out his hand with a restraining gesture. "This matter has heretofore been a close secret, but it is necessary now that the truth should be known. To issue a pass for such an errand is a violation of the American Articles of War and for this offense I now formally charge Major-General Benedict Arnold with treason."
"The traitor!.. Court-martial him!.." shouted several voices.
"I charge him with being unfaithful to his trust. He had made use of our wagons to transport the property of the enemy at a time when the lines of communication of the enemy were no farther distant than Egg Harbor. He has allowed many of our people to enter and leave the lines of the enemy. He has illegally concerned himself over the profits of a privateer. He has imposed, or at any rate has given his sanction to the imposition of menial offices upon the sons of freedom who are now serving in the militia, as was the case with young Matlack, which you will remember. And he has of late improperly granted a pass for a vessel to clear for the port of the enemy. I desire to make these charges publicly in order that you may know that my criticisms are not without foundation. I have in view your welfare alone."
"Aye!.. We believe you!.. Let us adjourn!"
"Let me ask Mr. Anderson one or two questions. If they can be answered to your satisfaction we shall accept his overtures. On the other hand let us dispense once and for all with this nefarious business and frustrate this insidious conspiracy so that we may renew our energies for the task before us which alone matters – the task of overcoming the enemy.
"First! Who has financed the organization, equipment, transportation of this regiment of Roman Catholic Volunteers?
"Second: From what source or sources originated the various methods of blackmail?
"Third: Who first suggested the coöperation of General Arnold?
"Fourth: What pressure was brought to bear in the obtaining of the passport for the vessel to clear port?"
III
But there was no Anderson to give answer. It was found that he, together with Colonel Clifton and several members of the party, had disappeared from the room. No one had remembered seeing them take their departure, yet it was observed that they had left the platform in the course of Stephen's speech to take seats on the further side of the hall, near to the door. This might have opened and closed several times during Stephen's speech, and, more especially, at the time when they had crowded the aisles near the close of the address, and little or no attention would have been paid to it. Very likely Anderson had taken advantage of such an opportunity to make an escape.
It was a very different room now. What had been a state of remarkable quiet with every man in his seat, with the conversation hardly above the tone of a whisper, with the uniform tranquillity disturbed solely by the remarks of the two speakers, was now giving way to a precipitous uproar which approached a riot. Men surged about one another and about Stephen in an endeavor to learn the details of the plot. Groups separated themselves from other equally detached groups, all absorbed, however, in the same topic. Voices, formerly hushed, now became vociferous. The walls reverberated with the tumultuous confusion.
"What dupes!" one was remarking to his neighbor. "How easily were we led by his smooth talk!"
"We were misguided in our motives of allegiance. We might have sensed a trick of the enemy," was the reply.
"Let us win the war, first," shouted a third.
"Aye! Freedom first; then religious liberty."
"Who is he?" another asked. "It cannot be Cadwalader."
"No," answered the neighbor. "This was prearranged. He borrowed Cadwalader's card to come here."
"I always told you Arnold was no good," sounded a great voice. "He'd sell us to the devil if he could get paid for it. I suppose he'll go to New York sure."
"Let him. Wish he was out of here."
"Say!" one asked Stephen rather abruptly. "How did you get all this straight?"
"I interested myself the moment the scheme took root. I assured myself that all was not as it should be and I took pains to verify my suspicions," was the grave reply.
"I know, but how did ye get 'em?"
"By following every move this Anderson made. I tracked him even to Mount Pleasant."
"And got beforehand with Arnold?"
"I overheard the major portion of the conversation."
"Pardon me," asked another individual, neater in appearance than the majority, and evidently of more education, "but have I not seen you before?"
"Perhaps you have," laughed Stephen.
"Where?"
"I could not begin to imagine."
"Where do you live? In town?"
"For the present, yes."
"Who are you?"
"Can't you see? Just one of you?"
"Never saw you in those clothes before. If I am not greatly mistaken you are the one who came to the Coffee House one day with Matt. Allison."
"Yes," admitted Stephen, "I am the same."
"How did you come by those clothes?"
"Borrowed them."
"In disguise, eh?"
"It was necessary to simulate a disguise. Otherwise I could never have gained admission here. I learned that Jim Cadwalader had been impressed into the company and I arranged to come in his place."
"Oh!"
"You took a mighty big risk."
"It was required. But I knew that there was but one way of playing this game and that was to defeat them openly by their own tactics. I had to depend, of course, upon the temper of the proposed members. All might be lost or won at one throw of the dice. I worded my remarks to that effect, and I won."
"What did you say your name was?"
"I did not say what it was," Stephen exchanged in good-natured repartee, "but since you ask, it is Meagher."
"Captain Meagher?"
Stephen smiled.
It must have been fully half-past nine when the meeting broke up; and that was at the departure of Stephen. He had lingered long enough to assure himself that the company was of a mind far different from that which had engaged them upon their arrival. They were now to go forth wiser men. But they knew that the people of the city could be moved quickly to indignation – as quickly, indeed, as they could be moved to favor. And how were they to explain their conduct? They resolved to lay the story with all its details before the very table of public opinion and allow that tribunal to discriminate between the shades of guilt.
Anderson, of course, had fled. That in itself was a confession and a point in their favor. It was plain to their minds that they had been victimized by the clever machinations of this man. If there had been any lack of unity of opinion concerning the righteousness of the project before, there was no divided opinion now. They knew what they were about to do, and they made all possible haste to put their thought into execution.
The ancient antipathy against the Military Governor was only intensified the more. Rumor would confirm the charges that would be published against him, of that they would take proper care. It was enough that they had been deluded by Anderson, but to be mere pawns in the hands of Arnold was more than they could stand. Too long had he been tolerated with his Tory wife and her manner of living, and now was an opportunity. Their path of duty was outlined before them.
Thoroughly satisfied with his evening's work, Stephen turned down the street whistling softly to himself.
CHAPTER IX
I
"Come!" said Stephen in response to the soft knock upon his door panel. "Just a minute."
He arose from his knees from the side of his bed. It was his custom to pray in this posture both morning and night; in the morning to thank his Lord for having brought him safely through the night and to offer Him all his prayers and works and sufferings of the day. At night to implore pardon for his shortcomings of the day and to commend himself into the hands of his Creator. This morning, however, the noise of heavy footsteps on the stairway had caused him to abbreviate somewhat his devotional exercise.
"Come in!" he repeated as he slipped back the bolt and opened the door. "Oh! Good morning! You're out early. How are you?"
He shook the hands of his early morning visitors warmly.
"Fine morning!" replied Mr. Allison. "Sorry to have disturbed you, but Jim was around early and desired to see you."
"Sure! No disturbance at all, I assure you. I was on the point of leaving for breakfast."
"Go right ahead. Please don't delay on our account. We can wait. Go ahead," expostulated Mr. Allison.
"We want'd t' be sure an' git ye, thet wuz all," remarked Jim. "Eat first. We'll be here when y' git back."
"Sit down and make yourselves comfortable," and he arranged several chairs about the room. "I overslept, I fear. Last night taxed me."
"You did justice to yourself and to us last night. The splendid result was your reward."
They were seated, Jim by the window, Mr. Allison at Stephen's desk. The disorder of early morning was apparent in the room, the furniture disarranged and all manner of clothing, bed covering, wearing apparel, towels, piled or thrown carelessly about. No one seemed to mind it, however, for no one paused to rearrange it.
"It wuz a big night. Tell us how did ye git along with 'em?" asked Jim.
"Much better than I had anticipated," Stephen replied. "I thought that Anderson's talk had won them entirely, but when I asked for the floor, I saw at once that many were with me. Had you instructed them?" This question was directed towards Jim.
"I did. I saw a doz'n at least. You know they had no use fur th' thing and were glad o' th' chance. I made a big secret out o' it, and they watch'd fur my ol' clothes."
"I thought I felt their glances. They stuck true, you may be assured. I knew, too, that I possessed a reserve blow in the affair of the Isis. The mention of Arnold's name inflamed them."
"I am sorry to have missed that," Mr. Allison said.
"How did they avoid you?" Stephen asked.
"I don't know. I was never approached although I had been acquainted with the rumors of the thing right along. I suppose they figured that I would threaten them with exposure. They knew where I stood; and then again they knew that they could threaten me with no debts. For some reason or other they thought best to avoid me."
"I guess we killed it for good."
"Kill'd it?" exclaimed Jim. "It's deader 'n a six-day corpse. An' there's great talk goin' on t'day on all th' corners. We're right wid th' peepul y' kin bet, and they thought best to avoid me."
"Have you noticed any agitation?"
"There has been a little disturbance," Mr. Allison admitted, "but no violence. It has been talk more than anything. Many are wondering who you are and how you obtained your information. Others are considerably taken back by the unveiling of Anderson. The greatest of respect is being shown to us on the street, and congratulations are being offered to us from all sides."
"I am glad the sentiment has changed. It now looks like the dawn of a better day. We should be spurred on, however, to greater endeavor in the manifestation of our loyalty, especially among the minority Tory element."
Outside, the street was beginning to feel the impulse of life. Over across, the buildings shone with the brightness of the morning sun which was reflected mildly from the glassy windows. There was a silent composure about it all, with no sound save the footfalls of the passing horse or the rattle of the business wagon. Somewhere across the street the man with the violin continued his fiddling.
"Does that keep up all day?"
"Almost! It is amusing to hear Griff swearing at him. The humorous part of it is that he plays but one tune, 'Yankee Doodle.'"
"Can't ye steal it some night?" asked Jim, "an' bust it over 's head."
"I don't care," laughed Stephen, "he doesn't bother me."
The door opened and shut. Sergeant Griffin entered, saluted Stephen and took the hands of the visitors.
"Well, what do you think of the boy?"
"I alwa's said he wuz a good boy."
"The fun hasn't begun yet," announced the Sergeant. "I have just learned that the City Council has met, and is about to issue formal charges against General Arnold."
Stephen whistled.
"They are glad of this opportunity," he announced quietly.
"Reed never took kindly to him, not from the first day," declared Mr. Allison.
"Well, if Reed gits after 'm he'll make the fur fly. He's a bad man when he gits goin'."
"Did you say they had met?" Stephen inquired.
"I understand they have. The affair of last night is being talked of freely on the street. And they are talking about you, most of all, and wonder if you had been sent by Washington to uncover this. One thing is certain: Arnold is in disgrace and the sooner he gets out of here the better it will be for him."
"The General likes 'im and p'rhaps 'll give 'im a transf'r."
"By the way!" interrupted Mr. Allison. "My girl wants to see you."
"See me?" Stephen quickly repeated, pointing to himself.
"She told me on leaving to tell you."
"Very well. Is it urgent?"
"No. I guess not. She didn't say it as if it were."
"Tell her for me, I shall go as soon as I can."
"What's th' next thin' t' do?" asked Jim.
"Matters will take care of themselves for awhile," Stephen replied. "Anderson, I suppose, has left town together with Clifton and the others. If the City Council has met to publish charges against Arnold, there is nothing to do but await the result of these. The people, I presume, are of one mind now and if they are not they will soon be converted once the news of last night's affair has reached their ears."
"Are you going to remain here?" asked Mr. Allison.
"I am going to take some breakfast, first; then I shall busy myself with a report. I may be busy for several days away from the city. In the meantime I would advise that the whole affair be aired as much as possible. There is nothing like supplying the public mind with food. Meet me, Jim, at the Coffee House; or are you coming with me?"
"Guess I'll go. This man wants t' eat."
II
The City Council did meet, as rumor announced to Sergeant Griffin, and immediately published charges against David Franks, the father of the aide-de-camp of the Military Governor, charging him with being in correspondence with his brother in London, who was holding the office of Commissary for British prisoners. He was ordered to be placed under immediate arrest. At the same time formal charges, partly of a military nature, partly of a civil, were preferred against the Military Governor. Copies of indictment were laid before Congress and before the Governors of the states, who were asked to communicate them to their respective legislatures.
The press became wildly excited. Great headlines announced the startling news to the amazement of the country. For, it must be remembered, Philadelphia was the center of government and colonial life, and the eyes of the infant nation were turned continually in its direction. General Arnold's name soon became a subject for conversation on every side.
None took the news more to heart than the General himself, as he sat in his great drawing-room with a copy of the evening news sheet before him. Being of an imaginative, impulsive nature it was natural for him to worry, but tonight there was the added feature of the revelation of his guilt. Reed had pursued him relentlessly, and the public announcement of his participation in the attempted formation of this detestable regiment only furnished the President of the Council with the opening he had so long desired. He re-read the charges preferred against him, his name across the front in big bold type. In substance they were as follows:
First: That the Military Governor had issued a pass for a vessel employed by the enemy, to come into port without the knowledge of the State authorities or of the Commander-in-chief.
Second: That upon taking possession of the city he had closed the shops and stores, preventing the public from purchasing, while at the same time, "as was believed," he had made considerable purchases for his own benefit.
Third: That he imposed menial offices upon the militia when called into service.
Fourth: That in a dispute over the capture of a prize brought in by a state privateer he had purchased the suit at a low and inadequate price.
Fifth: That he had devoted the wagons of the state to transporting the private property of Tories.
Sixth: That, contrary to law, he had given a pass to an unworthy person to go within the enemy's lines.
Seventh: That the Council had been met with a disrespectful refusal when they asked him to explain the subject-matter of the Fifth charge.
Eighth: That the patriotic authorities, both civil and military, were treated coldly and neglectfully, in a manner entirely different from his line of conduct towards the adherents of the king.
A further account of the Council meeting was then given wherein it was stated that a motion had been made to suspend General Arnold from all command during the time the inquiry was being made into these accusations, but it had been voted down. Congress was asked, the story went on, to decide on the value of these charges and to refer them to the proper tribunal, the necessary amount of evidence being promised at the proper time.
"The fools!" he muttered. "They think that these can hold water."
He continued to read, and holding the paper at a distance from him, gazed at it.
"What a shame! Every paper in the country will have this story before the week is out. I'm disgraced."
He fell back in his chair with his head propped up by his elbow. In his other hand, thrown across the arm of the chair, was held the paper. His brows were contracted, his eyes closed, his face flushed in indication of the tumult that surged within him. His mind was engaged in a long process of thought which began with his memories of his early campaigns and traced themselves down to the events of the present moment. There was no decision, no constancy of resolution, no determination; just worry, and apprehension, and solicitude, and the loud, rapid beatings of his temple against his hand.
"Suspend me! I'll forestall them, damn 'em. I'll resign first."
He wondered where Anderson had gone or what fortune he had met with. The morning brought the first report of the disruption of the meeting and of the unknown person who had single-handed accomplished it. There must be a traitor somewhere, for no one save Anderson and himself had been initiated into the secret. Margaret knew, of course, but she could be trusted. Perhaps after all the man had escaped that night. Perhaps it was this very person who had created the furore at the meeting. Who was he? How did he get in? Why were proper steps not taken to safeguard the room against all possibilities of this nature? Bah! Anderson had bungled the thing from the start. He was a boy sent on a man's errand.
The regiment was defunct. To speculate further on that subject would be futile. It never had existed, as far as he could see, except on paper, and there it remained, a mere potentiality. The single-handed disruption of it proved how utterly deprived it was of cohesion and organization. That one man, alone and in disguise, could have acquainted himself thoroughly with the whole proceeding, could have found his way with no attempt at interference into the meeting place, and with a few well-chosen words could have moved an entire audience to espouse the very contrary of their original purpose, indicated the stability and the temper of the assembly. To coerce men is a useless endeavor. Even the Almighty finds it well not to interfere with man's power of choice. They might be led or enticed or cajoled; but to force them, or intimidate them, or overwhelm them, is an idle and unavailing adventure.
Anderson had failed miserably and his conspiracy had perished with him. Not a prominent Catholic had been reached in the first place; not a member of the poorest class would now leave the city. The affair with its awful disclosures only added strength to their position, for whatever aspersions might have been cast upon their loyalty in the event of the successful deportation of the company, were now turned like a boomerang against the very ones who had engineered the scheme. The community would respect the Catholics more for the future. They were to profit by his undoing. They would be valued for the test that their patriotism had stood.
There was another consideration, however, which wore a graver complexion and tormented him beyond endurance. This was the solicitude for his own safety. The people had hated him for years and had proceeded to invent stories about him which might justify its anger. It had been a satisfaction for him to reflect that, for the most part, these stories had not been the causes, but rather the effects of public indignation. But what answer could he make now, what apology could he offer for this late transaction, this conspiracy at once so evident and palpable? As far as the question of his guilt was concerned there would be little conjecture about that. Ten or twenty accounts of the venture, inconsistent with one another and with themselves, would be circulated simultaneously. Of that he had no doubt. People would neither know nor care about the evidence. It was enough that he had been implicated.
He would ask for a court-martial. That, of course. Through no other tribunal could a just and a satisfactory decision be reached, and it was paramount that another verdict besides that pronounced by public opinion be obtained. Unquestionably, he would be acquitted. His past service, his influence, his character would prove themselves determining factors during his trial. Fully one-half of the charges were ridiculous and would be thrown out of court as incontestable, and of the remainder only one would find him technically culpable. Still it were better for a court to decide upon these matters, and to that end he decided to request a general court-martial.
III
"You have removed your uniform?" Peggy asked in surprise as she beheld him entering the doorway of the drawing-room.
"Yes," was the solemn reply. "I am no longer a confederate of France."
He limped slowly across the room, leaning on his cane. He had laid aside his buff and blue uniform, with the epaulets and sword knots, and was clad in a suit of silken black. His hose and shoes were of the same color, against which his blouse, cuffs and periwig were emphasized, a pale white.
"But you are still a Major-General," she corrected.
"I was; but am no longer. I have resigned."
She started at the announcement. Obviously she had not anticipated this move.
"You have resigned? When?"
"I wrote the letter a short time ago. I precluded their designs."
He sat in his great chair, and, reaching for his stool, placed his foot upon it.
"But … I … I don't understand."
"I do perfectly. I shall be tried by court-martial, of course; they have moved already to suspend me pending the course of my trial. I want to anticipate any such possibility, that is all."
"But you will be reinstated?"
"I don't know, – nor care," he added.
"And what about us, our home, our life here," she asked with a marked concern.
"Oh! That will go on. This is your house, remember, if it comes to the worst; you are mistress here. This is your home."
"If it comes to the worst? To what?"
"Well, if I should be found guilty … and … sentenced."
"I should not stay here a minute," she cried, stamping her foot. "Not one minute after the trial! In this town? With that element? Not for an hour!"
"Well!" he exclaimed, making a gesture with both hands, together with a slight shrug of the shoulders.
"Where is Anderson?" she asked quickly.
"In New York, I presume, ere this. I have not seen him."
"Fled?"
"The only proper thing. It's a great wonder to me that he escaped at all. I should have expected him torn to pieces by that mob."
"A bungled piece of business. I imagined that he was assured of success. A sorry spectacle to allow them to slip from his grasp so easily."
"Margaret, you do not understand a mob. They are as fickle as a weather-cock. The least attraction sways them."
"Who did it? Have you yet learned?"
"No. A bedraggled loafer, gifted with more talk than occupation. He was acquainted with the whole scheme from beginning to end, and worked upon their feelings with evidences of treason. The sudden mention of my name in connection with the plot threw cold water on the whole business. They were on their feet in an instant."
"You are quite popular," was the taunt.
"Evidently. The pass inspired them. It would defeat any purpose, and Anderson must have sensed it and taken his hurried departure. No one has since heard or seen aught of him."
"He was a fool to drag you into this, and you were as great a fool to allow it."
"Margaret, don't chide me in that manner. I did what I thought best. But I'm through now with these cursed Catholics and with France."
"You are a free man now," she murmured.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that this court-martial relieves you of any further obligation to the colonies," was the answer.
"But I may still be Second in command."
She paused to regard him. Did he continue to cherish ambitions of this nature; or was he attempting to jest with her?
"You seem to forget Gates and the Congress," she said with manifest derision.
"No. In spite of them."
She lost all patience.
"Listen! Don't flatter yourself any longer. Your cause is hopeless, as hopeless as the cause for which the stupid colonists are contending. You are now free to put an end to this strife. Go over to the enemy and persuade Washington and the leaders of the revolt to discuss terms."
"Impossible!"
"What is impossible? Simply announce your defection; accept the terms of His Majesty's government; and invite Adams, Franklin, Jefferson, Hamilton and Washington to meet you. There is the assurance of all save complete independence."
"I shall wait."
"For what? The court-martial will be against you from the start. Mark my words. You will be found guilty, if not actually, at least technically. They are determined upon revenge and they are going to have it. You saw the paper?"
"I did."
"You read the list of charges?"
He did not answer. He had sunk into his chair and his hands were clasped before him. He was engaged in a detailed series of thought.
"How many of them were artificial? Except for the first, that about the pass, none are worth the reading, and the first never can be proved. They have no evidence apart from the fanatical ravings of a drunken Catholic. But wait! You shall be adjudged guilty in the end. See if I am not correct."
"I have the right to question the composition of the court!"
"What matter! You know the people detest you. They have hated you from the moment you set foot in this city. Every issue of the paper found some new grievance against you. And when you married me the bomb was exploded. You yourself know that it was the mere fact of your participation in this scheme that quelled it. They loathe you, I tell you. They hate you."