Chapter 10

On the fourth day after Champe's departure, Lee received a letter from him, written the day before, in a disguised hand, without any signature, and stating what had passed, after he got on board the galley, where he was kindly received. He was immediately conducted to New York, and introduced to the British commandant, to whom he presented a letter from the captain of the galley. Being asked to what corps he belonged, and a few other general questions, he was sent under charge of an orderly-sergeant to the adjutant-general, who was rejoiced to find that he was sergeant-major of the legion of horse, hitherto remarkable for their fidelity.

The adjutant-general noted down, in a large folio book, some particulars in regard to Champe--his size, figure, place of birth, countenance, the color of his hair, name of the corps to which he had belonged. After this was finished, he was sent to the commander-in-chief in charge of one of the staff, with a letter from the adjutant-general. Sir Henry Clinton received him very kindly, and detained him more than an hour, asking many questions in regard to the probable fate of Andre--whether the example of Arnold's defection had not contaminated many of the American officers and troops--whether Washington was popular with the army, and what means might be employed to induce the men to desert. To these various interrogatories, some of which were perplexing, Champe answered warily; exciting, nevertheless, hopes that the adoption of proper measures to encourage desertion, would probably bring off hundreds of the American soldiers, including some of the best troops, horse as well as foot. Respecting the fate of Andre, he said he was ignorant, though there appeared to be a general wish in the army that his life might not be taken; and that he believed that it would depend more on the disposition of Congress, than on the will of Washington.

After the close of this long conversation, Sir Henry presented Champe with a couple of guineas, and recommended him to wait on General Arnold, who was engaged in raising an American legion for the service of his majesty. Arnold expressed much satisfaction on being informed of the effect of his example, and the manner of Champe's escape. He concluded his numerous inquiries by assigning quarters to the sergeant. He afterward proposed to Champe to join his legion, promising him the same station he had held in the rebel service, and further advancement. Expressing his wish to retire from the service, and his conviction of the certainty of his being hung, if ever taken by the rebels, he begged to be excused from enlistment; assuring the general, that should he change his mind, he would accept his offer.

Retiring to the assigned quarters, Champe now turned his attention to the delivery of his letters, which he could not effect till the next night, and then only to one of the two incogniti, to whom he was recommended. This man received the sergeant with attention, and having read the letter, assured him of his faithful cooperation. The object for which the aid of this individual was required, regarded those persons implicated in the information sent to Washington. Promising to enter with zeal upon the investigation, and engaging to transmit Champe's letters to Major Lee, he fixed the time and place of their next meeting, when they separated. A day or two afterward, Champe accepted the appointment of recruiting sergeant to Arnold, for the purpose of securing uninterrupted ingress and egress at the house which the general occupied.

The letters which Lee received from Champe, announced that the difficulties in his way were numerous and stubborn, and that his prospect of success was by no means cheering. With respect to the charges against certain officers and soldiers in the American army of an intention to follow Arnold's example, he expressed his decided conviction that they were unfounded; that they had taken their rise in the enemy's camp, and that they would be satisfactorily confuted. But the pleasure which the latter part of this communication afforded was damped by the tidings it imparted respecting Arnold--as on his speedy capture and safe delivery depended Andre's relief.

The interposition of Sir Henry Clinton, who was extremely anxious to save his much-loved aid-de-camp, still continued. It was expected that the examination of witnesses in Andre's case and the defense of the prisoner, would protract the decision of the court of inquiry then assembled, and give sufficient time for the consummation of the project confided to Champe. This hope was disappointed in a manner wholly unexpected. The honorable and accomplished Andre disdained defense, and prevented the examination of witnesses, by confessing the character of the mission, in the execution of which he was arrested. The court reassembled on the second of October. Andre was declared to be a spy, and condemned to suffer accordingly.

The painful sentence was executed on the subsequent day, in the usual form, the commander-in-chief deeming it improper to interpose any delay. In this decision he was warranted by the unpromising intelligence received from Champe--by the still existing implication of other officers in Arnold's conspiracy--by a due regard to public opinion, and by the inexorable necessity of a severe example.

The fate of Andre, hastened by himself, deprived the enterprise committed to Champe of a feature which had been highly prized by the projector, and which had engaged the heart of the individual selected for its execution. Washington ordered Major Lee to communicate what had passed to the sergeant, with directions to encourage him to prosecute with vigor the remaining objects of his instructions. Champe bitterly deplored the fate of Andre, and confessed that the hope of saving the unfortunate young man had been his main inducement in undertaking his dangerous enterprise. Nothing now remained but to attempt the seizure of Arnold. To this object Champe gave his undivided attention. Ten days elapsed before he could conclude his arrangements, at the end of which time, Lee received from him his final communication, appointing the third subsequent night for a party of dragoons to meet him at Hoboken, when he hoped to deliver Arnold to the officer.

From the moment of his enlistment into Arnold's corps, Champe had every opportunity he could desire for watching the habits of that individual. He discovered that it was his custom to return home about twelve every night, and that, previous to going to bed, he generally walked in his garden. During this visit, the conspirators were to seize him, gag him, and carry him across the river.

Adjoining the house in which Arnold resided, and in which it was designed to seize and gag him, Champe had taken out several of the palings and replaced them, so that they might be readily removed, and open a way to the neighboring alley. Into this alley he meant to have conveyed his prisoner, aided by his companions, one of two associates who had been introduced by the friend to whom Champe had been originally made known by letter from the commander-in-chief, and with whose aid and counsel he had so far conducted the enterprise. His other associate was in readiness with the boat at one of the wharves on the Hudson river, to receive the party.

Champe and his friend intended to have placed themselves each under Arnold's shoulder, and to have thus borne him through the most unfrequented alleys and streets to the boat; representing Arnold, in case of being questioned, as a drunken sailor, whom they were conveying to the guard-house. The passage across the river could be easily accomplished.

These particulars were communicated by Lee to Washington, who directed the former to meet Champe, and to take care that Arnold should not be hurt. The appointed day arrived, and Lee with a party of dragoons, left camp late in the evening, with three led horses--one for Arnold, one for the sergeant, and the third for his associate. From the tenor of the last communication from Champe, no doubt was entertained of the success of the enterprise. The party from the American camp reached Hoboken about midnight, where they were concealed in the adjoining wood--Lee, with three dragoons, stationing himself near the river shore.

Hour after hour passed. No boat approached. At length the day broke, and the major retired with his party back to the camp, much chagrined at the failure of the project.

In a few days, Lee received an anonymous letter from Champe's patron and friend, informing him, that on the day preceding the night for the execution of the plot, Arnold had removed his quarters to another part of the town, to superintend the embarkation of troops preparing, as was rumored, for an expedition, to be placed under his own direction. The American legion, consisting chiefly of American deserters, had been transferred from the barracks to one of the transports; it being apprehended that if left on shore till the expedition was ready, many of them might desert.

Thus it happened that John Champe, instead of crossing the Hudson that night, was safely deposited on board one of the transports, from which he never departed till the troops under Arnold landed in Virginia, Nor was he able to escape from the British army till after the junction of Lord Cornwallis, at Petersburgh, when he deserted; and passing through Virginia and North Carolina, safely joined the American army soon after it had passed the Congaree, in pursuit of Lord Rawdon.

Champe's appearance excited extreme surprise among his former comrades, which was not a little increased when they witnessed the cordial reception, which he met with from the late Major, now Lieutenant-Colonel Lee. His whole story soon became known to the corps, and he became an object of increased respect and regard.

Champe was munificently rewarded, and General Washington gave him a discharge from further service, lest, in the vicissitudes of war, he might fall into the enemy's hands, in which event, if recognized, he could expect no mercy. Champe resided in London county, Virginia, after leaving the army. He afterward removed to Kentucky, where he died. For a full account of his adventures, we may refer the reader to Major Lee's Memoirs, to which we have been largely indebted.

ADVENTURE WITH PIRATES.

There lived, not many years ago, on the eastern shore of Mt. Desert--a large island off the coast of Maine--an old fisherman, by the name of Jedediah Spinnet, who owned a schooner of some hundred tons burden, in which he, together with some four stout sons, was wont to go, about once a year, to the Grand Banks, for the purpose of catching codfish. The old man had five things, upon the peculiar merits of which he loved to boast--his schooner, "Betsy Jenkins," and his four sons. The four sons were all their father represented them to be, and no one ever doubted his word, when he said that their like was not to be found for fifty miles around. The oldest was thirty-two, while the youngest had just completed his twenty-sixth year, and they answered to the names of Seth, Andrew, John, and Samuel.

One morning a stranger called upon Jedediah to engage him to take to Havana some iron machinery belonging to steam engines for sugar plantations. The terms were soon agreed upon, and the old man and his sons immediately set about putting the machinery on board; that accomplished, they set sail for Havana, with a fair wind, and for several days proceeded on their course without any adventure of any kind. One morning, however, a vessel was descried off their starboard quarter, which, after some hesitation, the old man pronounced a pirate. There was not much time allowed them for doubting, for the vessel soon saluted them with a very agreeable whizzing of an eighteen pound shot under the stern.

"That means for us to heave to," remarked the old man.

"Then I guess we'd better do it hadn't we?" said Seth.

"Of course."

Accordingly, the Betsy Jenkins was brought up into the wind, and her main-boom hauled over to windward.

"Now boys," said the old man, as soon as the schooner came to a stand, "all we can do is to be as cool as possible, and to trust to fortune. There is no way to escape that I can see now; but, perhaps, if we are civil, they will take such stuff as they want, then let us go. At any rate there is no use crying about it, for it can't be helped. Now get your pistols, and see that they are surely loaded, and have your knives ready, but be sure and hide them, so that the pirates shall see no show of resistance. In a few moments all the arms which the schooner afforded, with the exception of one or two old muskets, were secured about the persons of our Down Easters, and they quietly awaited the coming of the schooner.

"One word more, boys," said the old man, just as the pirate came round under the stern.

"Now watch every movement I make, and be ready to jump the moment I speak."

As Captain Spinnet ceased speaking, the pirate luffed under the fisherman's lee-quarter, and, in a moment more, the latter's deck was graced with the presence of a dozen as savage-looking mortals as eyes ever rested upon.

"Are you the captain of this vessel," demanded the leader of the boarders, as he approached the old man.

"Yes sir."

"What is your cargo?"

"Machinery for ingines."

"Nothing else?" asked the pirate with a searching look.

At this moment, Captain Spinnet's eye caught what looked like a sail off to the southward and eastward, but no sign betrayed the discovery, and, while a brilliant idea shot through his mind, he hesitatingly replied:

"Well, there is a leetle something else."

"Ha! and what is it?"

"Why, sir, perhaps I hadn't ought to tell," said Captain Spinnet, counterfeiting the most extreme perturbation. "You see, 'twas given to me as a sort of trust, an' 't wouldn't be right for me to give up. You can take any thing else you please, for I s'pose I can't help myself."

"You are an honest codger, at any rate," said the pirate; "but, if you would live ten minutes longer, just tell me what you've got on board, and exactly where it lays."

The sight of the cocked pistol brought the old man to his senses, and, in a deprecating tone, he muttered:

"Don't kill me, sir, don't, I'll tell you all. We have got forty thousand silver dollars nailed up in boxes and stowed away under some of the boxes just forward of the cabin bulkhead, but Mr. Defoe didn't suspect that any body would have thought of looking for it there."

"Perhaps so," chuckled the pirate, while his eyes sparkled with delight. And then, turning to his own vessel, he ordered all but three of his men to jump on board the Yankee.

In a few moments the pirates had taken off the hatches, and, in their haste to get at the "silver dollars," they forgot all else; but not so with Spinnet; he had his wits at work, and no sooner had the last of the villains disappeared below the hatchway, than he turned to his boys.

"Now, boys, for our lives. Seth, you clap your knife across the fore throat and peak halyards; and you, John, cut the main. Be quick now, an' the moment you've done it, jump aboard the pirate. Andrew and Sam, you cast off the pirate's graplings; an' then you jump--then we'll walk into them three chaps aboard the clipper. _Now for it_."

No sooner were the last words out of the old man's mouth, than his sons did exactly as they had been directed. The fore and main halyards were cut, and the two graplings cast off at the same instant, and, as the heavy gaffs came rattling down, our five heroes leaped on board the pirate. The moment the clipper felt at liberty, her head swung off, and, before the astonished buccaneers could gain the decks of the fisherman, their own vessel was a cable's length to leeward, sweeping gracefully away before the wind, while the three men left in charge were easily secured.

"Halloa, there!" shouted Captain Spinnet, as the luckless pirates crowded around the lee gangway of their prize, "when you find them silver dollars, just let us know, will you?"

Half a dozen pistol shots was all the answer the old man got, but they did him no harm; and, crowding up all sail, he made for the vessel he had discovered, which lay dead to leeward of him, and which he made out to be a large ship. The clipper cut through the water like a dolphin, and, in a remarkably short space of time, Spinnet luffed up under the ship's stern, and explained all that had happened. The ship proved to be an East Indiaman, bound for Charleston, having, all told, thirty men on board, twenty of whom at once jumped into the clipper and offered their services in helping to take the pirate.

Before dark, Captain Spinnet was once more within hailing distance of his own vessel, and raising a trumpet to his mouth, he shouted:

"Schooner ahoy! Will you quietly surrender yourselves prisoners, if we come on board!"

"Come and try it!" returned the pirate captain, as he brandished his cutlass above his head in a threatening manner, which seemed to indicate that he would fight to the last.

But that was his last moment, for Seth was crouched below the bulwarks, taking deliberate aim along the barrel of a heavy rifle, and, as the bloody villain was in the act of turning to his men, the sharp crack of Seth Spinnet's weapon rang its fatal death-peal, and the next moment the captain fell back into the arms of his men, with a brace of bullets in his heart.

"Now," shouted the old man, as he leveled the long pivot gun, and seized a lighted match, "I'll give you just five minutes to make your minds up in, and, if you don't surrender, I'll blow every one of you into the other world."

The death of their captain, and, withal the sight of the pivot gun--its peculiar properties they knew full well--brought the pirates to their senses, and they threw down their weapons, and agreed to give themselves up.

In two days from that time, Captain Spinnet delivered his cargo safely in Havana, gave the pirates into the hands of the civil authorities, and delivered the clipper up to the government, in return for which, he received a sum of money sufficient for an independence during the remainder of his life, as well as a very handsome medal from the government.

KENTON THE SPY.

A secret expedition had been planned by Col. Bowman, of Kentucky, against an Indian town on the little Miama. Simon Kenton and two young men, named Clark and Montgomery, were employed to proceed in advance, and reconnoiter. Kenton was a native of Fauquier county, Virginia, where he was born the fifteenth of May, 1755; his companions were roving backwoodsmen, denizens of the wood, and hunters like himself.

These adventurers set out in obedience to their orders, and reached the neighborhood of the Indian village without being discovered. They examined it attentively, and walked around the cabins during the night with perfect impunity. Had they returned after reconnoitering the place, they would have accomplished the object of their mission, and avoided a heavy calamity. They fell martyrs, however to their passion for horseflesh.

Unfortunately, during their nightly promenade, they stumbled upon a pound, in which were a number of Indian horses. The temptation was not to be resisted. They severally seized a horse and mounted. But there still remained a number of fine animals; and the adventurers cast longing, lingering looks behind. It was melancholy--the idea of forsaking such a goodly prize. Flesh and blood could not resist the temptation. Getting scalped was nothing to the loss of such beautiful specimens of horseflesh. They turned back, and took several more. The horses, however, seemed indisposed to change masters, and so much noise was made, in the attempt to secure them, that at last the thieves were discovered.

The cry rang through the village at once, that the Long-Knives were stealing their horses right before the doors of their wigwams. A great hubbub ensued; and Indians, old and young, squaws, children, and warriors, all sallied out with loud screams, to save their property from the greedy spoilers. Kenton and his friends saw that they had overshot their mark, and that they must ride for their lives. Even in this extremity, however, they could not reconcile their minds to the surrender of a single horse which they had haltered; and while two of them rode in front and led a great number of horses, the other brought up the rear, and, plying his whip from right to left, did not permit a single animal to lag behind.

In this manner, they dashed through the woods at a furious rate with the hue and cry after them, until their course was suddenly stopped by an impenetrable swamp. Here, from necessity, they paused a few minutes, and listened attentively. Hearing no sounds of pursuit, they resumed their course, and, skirting the swamp for some distance in the vain hope of crossing it, they bent their course in a straight direction to the Ohio. They rode during the whole night without resting a moment. Halting a brief space at daylight, they continued their journey throughout the day, and the whole of the following night; and, by this uncommon celerity of movement, they succeeded in reaching the northern bank of the Ohio on the morning of the second day.

Crossing the river would now insure their safety, but this was likely to prove a difficult undertaking, and the close pursuit, which they had reason to expect, rendered it expedient to lose as little time as possible. The wind was high, and the river rough and boisterous. It was determined that Kenton should cross with the horses, while Clark and Montgomery should construct a raft, in order to transport their guns, baggage, and ammunition, to the opposite shore. The necessary preparations were soon made, and Kenton, after forcing his horses into the river, plunged in himself, and swam by their side.

In a few minutes the high waves completely overwhelmed him, and forced him considerably below the horses, who stemmed the current much more successfully than he.

The horses, being left to themselves, turned about and made for the Ohio shore, where Kenton was compelled to follow them. Again he forced them into the water, and again they returned to the same spot, until Kenton became so exhausted by repeated efforts, as to be unable to swim. What was to be done?

That the Indians would pursue them was certain. That the horses would not and could not be made to cross the river in its present state, was equally certain. Should they abandon their horses and cross on the raft, or remain with their horses and brave the consequence? The latter alternative was adopted unanimously. Death or captivity might be tolerated, but the loss of such a beautiful lot of horses, after working so hard for them, was not to be thought of for a moment.

Should they move up or down the river, or remain where they were? The latter plan was adopted, and a more indiscreet one could hardly have been imagined. They supposed that the wind would fall at sunset, and the river become sufficiently calm to admit of their passage; and, as it was thought probable that the Indians might be upon them before night, it was determined to conceal their horses in a neighboring ravine, while they should take their stations in the adjoining wood.

The day passed away in tranquility; but at night the wind blew harder than ever, and the water became so rough, that they would hardly have been able to cross on their raft. As if totally infatuated, they remained where they were until morning; thus wasting twenty-four hours of most precious time in idleness. In the morning, the wind abated, and the river became calm; but, it was now too late. Their horses had become obstinate and intractible, and positively and repeatedly refused to take to the water.