CHAPTER XVI

IN WHICH A PEEP AT THE STATE-HOUSE LEADS TO AN UGLY ADVENTURE

Harris's Ferry--now the populous capital city of Harrisburg--was, in 1778, a small and unimportant place. John Harris, an old Indian trader and the founder of the town, lived here. Some years before, he had made the acquaintance of Captain Stanbury, when the latter stopped at the ferry on a trip from Philadelphia to Wyoming. Nathan was aware of this fact, and resolved to make use of it at such a time of need. So, after the lads had landed and given their canoe in charge of an old boatman, they climbed the river bank and presented themselves at the door of John Harris's big stone mansion.

The old trader was at breakfast, early as was the hour, and he gave his visitors a cordial greeting even before he had heard their story. Nathan's explanation gained much sympathy and a ready promise of assistance. There was little time to spare, but the lads tarried long enough to eat a hearty meal. That finished, the trader took them to the bank of the river directly opposite his house, and pointed out the mulberry-tree to which he had been tied by hostile Indians some years before, and where he would have been burnt to death had not aid arrived in the nick of time.

Then, in haste to the Three Stars Tavern on Front Street, where the Philadelphia coach, with three elderly passengers inside, was about ready to start. John Harris paid the fares, and after shaking hands with the lads and bidding them come to see him again, they mounted to the outside seat beside the driver. A couple of minutes later the blasts of the coaching-horn rang through the little settlement, and the long ride had begun.

Nothing worthy of special mention took place during the journey. Passengers got on and off, stoppages were made for fresh horses and meals, and the nights were spent at wayside towns. The lads' incidental expenses were paid by the driver, in accordance with secret instructions given him by the kind-hearted trader.

Lancaster was reached on the evening of the first day, and here the night was spent. The two following days were rainy, and the muddy condition of the roads made traveling slow. The lads remained outside, sheltered by a sail-cloth hood that was stretched over the top of the seat. Under other circumstances they must have enjoyed the journey, but the shadow of the terrible events they had so lately passed through was still upon them. They could not forget the horrors of Wyoming, the vexatious escape of Noah Waxpenny, and the tragic death of Barnabas Otter and the Tory ruffian. Nor was the future free from worry. Nathan felt a burning impatience to reach the Shrewsbury, and he could not rid himself of the fear that he would find his father either dead or gone. Godfrey, on the other hand, was concerned not a little for his own safety. In spite of the assurances of his companion, he believed himself to be in danger. And there was some ground for this fear. The lad, though not a spy, was still a British officer and loyal at heart to the cause of the enemy. And he was on his way to Philadelphia, where there was a strong likelihood of his being recognized as one of that hostile army which had occupied the city during the previous winter.

Nathan tried to inspire his friend with confidence, and partly succeeded. Neither cared to be questioned concerning their past adventures and their future plans, so they held aloof at all times from their fellow-passengers. The driver was a garrulous fellow, but fortunately with an inclination to do all the talking himself. This just suited the lads, and from morning till night they listened with feigned interest to his accounts of coaching experiences and his remarks on passing scenery.

On the evening of the fourth day after leaving Harris's Ferry, just as dusk was falling, the coach rumbled down to Middle Ferry on the Schuylkill, and the passage across in a big flat-boat was quickly made. Then followed a short ride through the fields and woods in the cool of the evening, and a spirited dash down Chestnut Street, where the good citizens of the town were smoking and gossiping at their front-door steps. Taranta, taranta, tara! sounded the horn as the lumbering stage turned into Fifth Street at the corner of the State-House, and a minute later the panting steeds drew up at their destination--Homly's Inn at Fifth and Walnut Streets. The painted face of Benjamin Franklin beamed a welcome from the creaking signboard that swung under a lighted lantern, and there was further encouragement to the thirsty and hungry travelers in the following printed couplet:

"Come view your patriot father! and your friend, And toast to freedom, and to slavery's end!"

Nathan and Godfrey climbed down from the high seat, and stood looking about them. Of the half-dozen passengers in the stage some had already entered the inn, and others had trudged away in the shadows of the night.

"The dear old town again!" said Nathan; and a tear glistened in his eye. "It seems too good to be true!"

"I know how you feel," replied Godfrey, "and I'm sorry I can't feel that way myself. But all I'm thinking about is getting away from a place where recognition will mean danger."

"And I'm in as big a hurry to leave as you are," said Nathan. "There are miles and miles between me and that farm-house on the Shrewsbury where my father is lying wounded--perhaps dead."

"Not that," Godfrey answered quickly. "You will find him getting well--I'm sure of it. And where are we going first? Not to the inn, I hope--"

"No," interrupted Nathan, "I'm too anxious to see Cornelius De Vries. We'll go straight there, and get supper and a night's rest, and then we'll arrange about the rest of the journey."

"Lads, there's good cheer to be had inside," called the driver, as he started to lead the horses to the stable-yard. "Homly's the man to give you a meal and a bed."

"Thank you, but we have friends here," Nathan replied.

"All right! Good-bye, and good luck to you!"

"Good-bye!" the lads answered; and then they started briskly up Fifth Street. They reached Chestnut Street, where there were plenty of lights and people, and crossed to the opposite side. On the corner Nathan halted and turned around.

"There's no danger," he said, noticing his companion's uneasiness. "We'll go on in half a minute--I want to take a look at the State-House. There's a light in the big hall, and up yonder hangs the dear old bell--the bell that rang out liberty for us two years ago."

"For you, not for me," Godfrey gently reminded.

"Oh! I forgot!" Nathan exclaimed contritely. "Forgive me, old fellow. I should have known better than to stop you here--we'll go on now."

But it was too late. During that brief interval of delay, unobserved by the lads, a ragged and sinister-looking man of middle age had been staring keenly at Godfrey, whose features were partly exposed to the glimmer of a street lamp. Now he came quickly to the spot, barring the way up Fifth Street for the lads.

"It's you, is it?" he said insolently, with a leer of malice at Godfrey. "I thought I weren't mistaken. And what are you doing in Philadelphia, my fine British officer? Did you just wake up and find the red-coats gone? Or did you come over from New York to look about a little--"

"You are mistaken, my good fellow," interrupted Godfrey, his face turning slightly pale.

"Get out of the way," Nathan added angrily. "Don't stop us here--"

"I'm not mistaken," the man asserted loudly; "not a bit of it. I know who I'm talking to--your name's Spencer, and you were here with the British last winter. Don't be in a hurry to get away, you and your friend."

"Who is he--do you know him?" Nathan asked in an undertone.

"I do now," Godfrey whispered. "His name is Burd, and he kept a store up near the barracks. I had him arrested by the guard for threatening Major Langdon. He's going to give us trouble, Nathan. Look, the people are beginning to notice us--"

"Whispering treason, that's what you are," exclaimed the ruffian. "No such doings, my fine fellows. It's lucky I saw you--"

"We must get away at once," muttered Nathan. "What a fool I was to stop you here! Now will you get out of the way?" he added to the man. "You're making a mistake that will cost you dear--I am a son of Captain Stanbury of the American army, and a soldier myself--"

"A likely story!" sneered the ruffian; and that quickly, as the lads started to move, he threw himself upon Godfrey and bore him hard back against the corner of the house. "A spy! a spy!" he yelled at the top of his voice.

Nathan lost his temper completely, and like a flash he fetched the man a stunning blow in the face that made him release Godfrey. A second blow sent him staggering to the edge of the sidewalk, where he set up a prodigious shouting for help.

Clamor and confusion followed, and escape for the lads was out of the question. As they stood side by side against the wall they were quickly hemmed in by an excited mob, and so deafening was the noise that they could not make themselves heard. Men came running from every direction--citizens, store-keepers, tavern loungers, lads eager for a fight, and a few crippled and bandaged soldiers.

"Spies! spies!" they howled. "Kill them! hang them!"

Nathan, feeling himself to blame for the trouble, stepped a little in front of Godfrey. He had a pistol in his pocket, and this he pulled out with a flourish, though he hoped to avoid the necessity of using it.

"Listen, my good people!" he shouted. "There must be some here who know me. I am an American soldier, and my companion is not a spy--"

It was no use. He could not make himself heard. Closer and closer pressed the mob, inflamed and urged on by the ruffian, Burd. The sight of the lad's drawn pistol kept the foremost back a few paces, but those in the rear began to hurl missiles. Stones and clubs struck the wall on both sides of Nathan, and a rotten apple burst on Godfrey's shoulder. The crowd was increasing, and the clamor was waking noisy echoes in other quarters of the town.

Nathan's pallor gave way to a flush of anger. "Keep back!" he roared. "Keep back, or I'll fire. You cowards! Give me a chance to speak."

The uproar deepened, but the circle widened a little at the ominous look of the weapon. Then, just as a rush began in the rear, a hoarse shout of "The watch! the watch!" rose above the clamor of voices. The sound of dull blows were heard, and right and left through the parting crowd, wielding their staves at every step, came a dozen men of the town watch. At their head, and seemingly acting as the leader, was a man wearing a sword and a military coat. Without ceremony he snatched Nathan's pistol.

"Keep close to me," he commanded, "and walk boldly."

At once the men of the watch surrounded the two lads and led them quickly across Chestnut Street. The crowd followed, hooting and yelling, but taking good care not to venture within reach of the staves. Right into the State-House marched the officer, the watch, and the prisoners, and a moment later Godfrey and Nathan crossed the threshold of the large chamber on the eastern side of the first floor--the same in which the memorable Declaration of Independence had been signed.

Here several lights were burning, and a number of men were standing about in groups. The watch had halted in the hall, but the officer entered with the lads, and turned to a man who had just come forward. The latter was tall and wore a long cloak of light material. As the glow of a lamp flashed on his face it revealed the familiar features of General Washington.

"Sir, I have obeyed your orders," said the officer. "These young gentlemen were the cause of the disturbance, and they can explain for themselves. I think you will recognize one of them--"

"Nathan Stanbury!" exclaimed Washington. He held out his hand, and the stern expression of his face relaxed.

"It is I, sir," replied Nathan, stammering in his surprise. Before he could say more two arms were thrown around him from behind, a kiss was planted on his forehead, and the familiar voice of Cornelius De Vries cried: "My dear lad! God be praised!"

Again and again the worthy old Hollander embraced the lad, giving him scarcely a chance to breathe. Finally, in his delight, he turned to Godfrey, and would have embraced him as well. But Washington held up his hand with a smile.

"Master Stanbury," he said, "I did not expect to find you in Philadelphia so soon, nor was I certain that you had escaped the bloodshed at Wyoming. It affords me the highest pleasure to know that you are safe, for I assure you that I have not forgotten your valuable and trusty services in the past. But a short time ago I was telling Master De Vries how gallantly you fought at Monmouth, and what a narrow escape you had from hanging when you saved my papers at Valley Forge."

"You do me too much honor, sir," said Nathan, with a blush.

"Not enough, my brave lad," replied Washington. "But come, I forget that you may speedily fall in my good graces," he added, in a jesting tone, "since you are accused of disturbing the peace of this good and loyal town of Philadelphia. You shall give me an explanation, and account for your companion."

"That I will gladly do, sir," declared Nathan.

"But I can spare you only a little time," added Washington. "I left my army at White Plains, on the Hudson, and made a quick journey here to confer with some of my Quaker friends on matters of importance. I must be starting back by morning, and before my presence becomes generally known in the town. And I prefer to talk apart from these worthy gentlemen."

He led the way to a far corner of the room, bidding Cornelius De Vries follow himself and the lads. With as much brevity as possible Nathan told his story, and he was careful to omit nothing, since he knew that the whole truth would be best for the interests of Godfrey.

Washington listened intently, now smiling, now frowning at parts of the narrative. "I have already heard the news from Wyoming," he said, when the lad had finished, "but not so clear an account as yours. You seem to have displayed your usual bravery and clear-headedness, Master Stanbury, and you have certainly had more than your share of perils and adventures. I deplore the loss of Barnabas Otter, who was a trusty and valuable man, and I regret that you have not fathomed this strange mystery with which your father seems to be connected. I confess that it has a deep interest for me. As for the recent brawl out in the street--why, it seems that you are not to blame. But it was imprudent for your companion to have entered Philadelphia, and I hardly know what disposition to make of him." He paused a moment, smiling. "Is he disposed to turn patriot?"

"He is not, sir, with all due respect to you," Godfrey answered, firmly.

"Let him accompany me, sir," exclaimed Nathan. "He risked his life to save myself and my friends. He is not a spy, and he should not be held as a prisoner. Help him to get back to the British lines."

Washington shook his head. "I can't do that," he replied. "I can't lend my aid to such a purpose. But Master Spencer deserves to be rewarded for his gallant conduct, which I do commend most heartily. So I shall let him accompany you to visit your father, Master Stanbury, and I dare say he will be making a little trip over to Long Island one of these days. Is that satisfactory?"

"Quite so," replied Godfrey, with a smile, "and thank you, sir."

Washington turned to Nathan. "Now, my boy, you will want to get speedily to your father?" he asked.

"As soon as possible, sir," Nathan replied, eagerly. "Please tell me how he is? Have you heard lately?"

"At last accounts he was doing well, but he was not able to be moved, else I should have sent a party for him. I will not deny that he is in some danger of capture by raiding-parties of the enemy, so you had better get to him without delay. What is your opinion, Master De Vries?"

"I agree with you, sir," answered the Hollander, "much as I should like the lad to spend a day or two with me in Philadelphia. But it is all for the best."

"Yes, I must start at once," assented Nathan. "And how shall we go, sir? By land?"

"I think not," replied Washington; "the roads through the Jersies are bad and lonely, and you would run a risk of meeting bodies of the enemy. As it happens, there is a sailing vessel lying now down at South Street wharf, and I can arrange with the captain to take you along the coast and up the Shrewsbury. He and his crew are loyal and trusty men, and have been engaged in secret service for me for some time past. Master De Vries," he added, "you know the place and the man. Suppose you make the necessary arrangements at once, and as soon as that is done the lads can go secretly to the river. By then the streets will be quiet."

"It is a wise plan, sir," agreed the Hollander, "and I will see to the proper arrangements."

He departed immediately, and then Washington drew Nathan a little apart from Godfrey.

"I can spare but a moment more," he said, in a low tone. "You are a brave lad, Master Stanbury, and an honor to your country and to your father. I shall not forget you in the future, and I predict that you will have an officer's commission before you are much older. I will speak to you of other matters at a better opportunity. I trust that you will reach your father safely, and that he and you will speedily be within the shelter of my lines at White Plains. When you leave the farm-house with him come by way of New Brunswick, where you will find American out-posts. You will both be needed. A battle cannot be long delayed, and by this time the French fleet has probably arrived off Sandy Hook. As for Master Spencer, to whom you owe much--why, I leave his interests in your hands, and I trust no harm will befall him."

Washington shook hands with both lads, and spoke a word of farewell. Then he joined the gentlemen who were waiting for him, and an aid shortly conducted Nathan and Godfrey to another apartment of the State-House. Here they remained three hours, at the end of which time Cornelius De Vries returned to announce his complete success. The town was now quiet, and the lads safely reached South Street wharf. It was not quite midnight when they parted from the old Hollander and went on board the sloop "Speedswift," and when they came on deck in the morning, after a good night's rest, the vessel was many miles down the Delaware.

No British men-of-war were met with, but, owing to bad weather, the voyage was prolonged to nearly a week--a delay that sorely tried Nathan's patience.

At last, one dark and sultry July night, the "Speedswift" entered the mouth of the Shrewsbury, and sailed cautiously along the south shore.

When the channel became shallow a small boat was lowered, and two of the crew rowed the lads to a point near the head of the river. The captain, who knew the locality thoroughly, went along with the party, and when they landed in a little cove he pointed to a road that skirted the north shore of the river.

"That's your way, my young gentlemen," he said. "Follow the road for two miles, and you'll come to Jonas Welfare's place. You can't miss it, for it's the first house."

A moment later the boat was pulling back to the vessel, and the two lads were walking rapidly toward their destination. Nathan was in a state of doubt and suspense--now confident of finding his father, now fearing that he was dead or captured. He kept Godfrey almost on a run, and after half an hour's tramp they reached an old stone farm-house standing in a yard full of pine trees.

No light was to be seen, and with a fast-beating heart Nathan mounted the porch and rapped on the door. It was opened almost immediately by an elderly man, who carried a candle in his hand.

He looked at the lads suspiciously, and with an air of disappointment, and then gruffly demanded their business.

"Are you Jonas Welfare?" Nathan asked, eagerly.

"That's my name, sir."

"Well, I am Captain Stanbury's son. Is--is he still here?"

"Captain Stanbury's son?" exclaimed the farmer, incredulously. "Yes, you look like him. Come right in."

The lads followed Mr. Welfare into the hall, and after closing and barring the door he led the way to an apartment on the left. Here a lamp was burning, and in a large chair sat a bearded man with sunken eyes and pale and hollow cheeks. With an eager cry he rose to his feet, and the next instant Nathan was clasped in his father's arms.

Godfrey discreetly stepped back into the hall, and when he entered the room five minutes later, the farmer had left it by a rear door. Nathan was kneeling by his father's side, and the captain's hand rested lovingly on the lad's head.

"Who is this?" he asked, looking up. "Did he come with you, my boy?"

"He is an old friend," replied Nathan, motioning Godfrey to sit down. "He saved my life. But I will explain presently. You have been very ill, father. Are you getting better and stronger now? Tell me all about it."

"I have improved wonderfully in the last week," replied Captain Stanbury, "though it will be some time before I am quite myself again. And there is but little to tell, my boy."

His face suddenly became grave, and he fixed his eyes on the floor.

"The wound I received at Monmouth was more painful than dangerous, and when I came to my senses I was a prisoner with the enemy's rear-guard of Hessians. After carrying me some miles on the retreat they brutally assaulted me with bayonets and clubbed muskets, and left me for dead along the road. This kind-hearted farmer found me and brought me here, and to him and his faithful wife I owe my recovery."

"I was sure you were alive," said Nathan. "I never quite lost hope, father, and now you will want to hear my story--"

"Yes, if you can make it brief. There are reasons, my boy. I heard of your perilous journey through Jonas Welfare, and when news of the Wyoming massacre reached me I feared greatly for your safety. God has been very good to us both."

"I will tell you all about the journey," said Nathan, "but there is something to come first." In a few words he related Noah Waxpenny's visit to the Indian Queen tavern, and mentioned the name of the legal firm that he represented. "The man was trying to find you, father," he added, "and also Major Langdon, of the British army."

Captain Stanbury's face turned even whiter, and there was a strange look in his eyes. "Sharswood & Feeman, Lincoln's Inn!" he muttered, half to himself. "It has come at last, after all these years! And at a time when I despise and spurn it for myself! But for the sake of my son--" He paused abruptly. "You should have told me this before, my boy," he added.

"I had so little chance," Nathan replied, "and most of the time I forgot it."

"And have you seen this man since?"

"That is part of my story, father. I am coming to it--"

"Go on quickly, lad. I am listening."

Accordingly, as briefly and clearly as he could, Nathan described his adventurous travels, telling how desperately Simon Glass tried to get the papers for Major Langdon, and how Godfrey saved the lives of the prisoners. He told all the leading incidents of the cruise down the river, and concluded with the escape of Noah Waxpenny from Fort Hunter and the sad death of Barnabas.

Captain Stanbury listened with a countenance as rigid as marble, and when the story was done he rose to his feet and feebly paced the floor half a dozen times. On his agitated features were depicted grief, passion, and unutterable horror. Finally he paused in front of the lads, and took Godfrey's hand in his own cold and trembling grasp. "My brave boy, I want to thank you," he said hoarsely. "Your conduct has been indeed noble. I could not feel more gratitude and respect for you were you a patriot at heart, instead of one who has clung to the cause of oppression. But party feeling shall make no breach between us. Sir, you are a hero."

Turning to Nathan he went on hastily, and with an air of confusion: "This is a terrible story, my boy, terrible. I hardly know what to make of it. By God's mercy you have escaped death a dozen times over. And so Barnabas Otter is dead! You say he perished with this Tory ruffian. A braver man, and a truer friend never lived. But the packet of papers, my boy? I fear they are lost."

"They will be recovered with the body," replied Nathan, "and if Noah Waxpenny has not been caught--"

"Never mind about him," interrupted Captain Stanbury. "The papers are the most important, and for your sake I trust they will be found."

"For my sake!" exclaimed Nathan. "Father, what does this mean? Why do you speak and act so strangely? What did Major Langdon want with the papers, and why is Noah Waxpenny seeking you both?"

Captain Stanbury pressed one hand to his brow, and a look of anguish appeared on his face. "My boy, you shall know all," he said, in a tone of hoarse resolve. "Sooner or later the truth would have to come out. Major Langdon is--"

Just then the rear door opened noisily and Jonas Welfare hurried into the room. "Captain, they are coming!" he exclaimed. "I hear the tramp of the horses on the road."