Perils were gathering thick and fast, and at another council, held on the 12th, it was resolved to abandon the city and take a position on Harlem Heights. The sick were sent over to New Jersey, and the public stores were taken to Dobb's Ferry, twenty miles up the Hudson River. Then the main army moved northward, leaving in the city a guard of four thousand men under General Putnam, with orders to follow if necessary.

Washington made his headquarters at the house of Robert Murray on the 14th. The position of the American army now appeared more perilous than ever. Two ships-of-war had passed up the East River. Others soon followed. Scouts reported active movements among the British troops everywhere, but could not penetrate, even by reasonable conjecture, the designs of the enemy. It was of the utmost importance to know something of their real intentions. Washington wrote to General Heath, then stationed at Kingsbridge:

"As everything, in a manner, depends upon obtaining intelligence of the enemy's motions, I do most earnestly entreat you and General Clinton to exert yourselves to accomplish this most desirable end. Leave no stone unturned, nor do not stick at expense, to bring this to pass, as I was never more uneasy than on account of my want of knowledge on this score. Keep constant lookout, with good glasses, on some commanding heights that look well on to the other shore."

The vital questions pressing for answer were, Will they make a direct attack upon the city? Will they land upon the island, above the city, or at Morrisania beyond the Harlem River? Will they attempt to cut off our communications with the main, by seizing the region along the Harlem River or at Kingsbridge, by landing forces on the shores of the East and Hudson Rivers, at Turtle Bay, or at Bloomingdale, and, stretching a cordon of armed men from river to river, cut off the four thousand troops left in the city?

Washington, in his perplexity, called another council of war at Murray's. He told his officers that he could not procure the least information concerning the intentions of the enemy, and asked the usual question of late, What shall be done? It was resolved to send a competent person, in disguise, into the British camps on Long Island to unveil the momentous secret. It needed one skilled in military and scientific knowledge and a good draughtsman; a man possessed of a quick eye, a cool head, unflinching courage; tact, caution, and sagacity—a man on whose judgment and fidelity implicit reliance might be placed.

Washington sent for Lieutenant-Colonel Knowlton and asked him to seek for a trustful man for the service, in his own noted regiment or in some other. Knowlton summoned a large number of officers to a conference at his quarters, and, in the name of the commander-in-chief, invited a volunteer for the important service. They were surprised. There was a long pause. Patriotism, ambition, a love of adventure, and indignation, alternately took possession of their feelings. It was an invitation to serve their country supremely by becoming a spy—a character upon whom all civilized nations place the ban of scorn and contumely! They recoiled from such a service, and there was a general and even resentful refusal to comply with the request.

Late in the conference, when Knowlton had despaired of finding a man competent and willing to undertake the perilous mission, a young officer appeared, pale from the effects of recent severe sickness. Knowlton repeated the invitation, when, almost immediately, the voice of the young soldier was heard uttering the momentous words, "I will undertake it!" It was the voice of Captain Nathan Hale.

Everybody was astonished. The whole company knew Hale. They loved and admired him. They tried to dissuade him from his decision, setting forth the risk of sacrificing all his good prospects in life and the fond hopes of his parents and friends. They painted in darkest colors the ignominy and death to which he might be exposed. His warmly attached friend, William Hull (afterward a general in the War of 1812), who was a member of his company and had been a classmate at college, employed all the force of friendship and the arts of persuasion to bend him from his purpose, but in vain. With warmth and decision Hale said:

"Gentlemen, I think I owe to my country the accomplishment of an object so important and so much desired by the commander of her armies, and I know no mode of obtaining the information but by assuming a disguise and passing into the enemy's camp. I am fully sensible of the consequences of discovery and capture in such a situation. But for a year I have been attached to the army, and have not rendered any material service, while receiving a compensation for which I make no return. Yet I am not influenced by any expectation of promotion or pecuniary reward. I wish to be useful; and every kind of service necessary for the public good becomes honorable by being necessary. If the exigencies of my country demand a peculiar service, its claims to the performance of that service are imperious."

These manly, wise, and patriotic words—this willingness to sacrifice himself, if necessary, for the good of his country—silenced his brother officers. Accompanied by Knowlton, he appeared before Washington the same afternoon, and received instructions concerning his mission. His commander also furnished him with a general order to the owners of all American vessels in Long Island Sound to convey him to any point on Long Island which he might designate.

Hale left the camp on Harlem Heights the same evening, accompanied by Sergeant Stephen Hempstead, a trustworthy member of his company, whom he engaged to go with him as far as it would be prudent. He was also accompanied by his trusty servant, Ansel Wright. They found no safe place to cross the Sound until they arrived at Norwalk, fifty miles from New York, owing to the presence of small British cruisers in those waters. There Hale exchanged his regimentals for a citizen's dress of brown cloth and a broad-brimmed round hat, and directed Hempstead and Wright to tarry for him at Norwalk until his return, which he supposed would be on the 20th. He directed a boat to be sent for him on the morning of that day, and left with Hempstead his uniform and his military commission and other papers.

There are somewhat conflicting accounts concerning Hale's movements after he left Norwalk. All agree that he was conveyed across the Sound to Huntington Bay, where he landed; that he assumed the character of a schoolmaster and loyalist disgusted with the "rebel" cause, and that he professed to be in quest of an engagement as a school-teacher. It is known that he entered the British camps in personal disguise and with the pretext of loyalty and the character of a pedagogue; that he was received with great cordiality as a "good fellow"; that he visited all the British camps on Long Island, made observations openly, and drawings and memoranda of fortifications, etc., secretly; that he passed over from Brooklyn to New York city and gathered much information concerning affairs there, the British having invaded Manhattan Island and secured possession of the town since his departure;[3] and that he returned to Long Island and passed through the various camps to Huntington Bay for the purpose of going back to Norwalk.

Tradition tells us that Hale was conveyed from Norwalk to Huntington Bay on a sloop, and was landed from her yawl two hours before daybreak in the neighborhood of a place called "The Cedars." Near there a Widow Chichester, a stanch loyalist (called "Widow Chich"), kept a tavern, which was the resort of all the Tories in that region. Hale passed this dangerous place with safety before cock-crowing, and at a farm-house a mile distant he was kindly furnished with breakfast and a bed for repose after his night's toil. Then he made his way to the nearest British camp, and was received without suspicion of his real character. Concerning his movements after that, until his return from New York, tradition is silent.

Hale, on his return, had reached in safety the point on the Long Island shore where he first landed, and prepared to recross the sound at Norwalk the next morning. He wore shoes with loose inner soles. Between the soles he had concealed the accurate drawings he had made of fortifications, etc., and also his memoranda, written in Latin on thin paper. He had given directions for the boat, from which he had landed, to come for him on a designated morning, which would be the next after his return. Satisfied that he was safe from harm, for he was remote from a British post, and happy with the thought that his perilous mission was ended successfully and that he should render his country most important service, he awaited the coming morning with patience and serenity of mind.

Feeling secure in his simple dress and disguised manner, Hale entered the tavern of the Widow Chichester, at "The Cedars." A number of persons were in the room. A moment afterward, a man, whose face seemed familiar to him, suddenly departed and was not seen again.

Hale passed the night at the tavern, and at dawn went out to look for the expected boat. To his great joy he saw one moving toward the shore, with several men in it. Not doubting they were his friends, he hastened toward the beach, where, as the vessel touched the shore, he was astounded by the sight of a barge bearing British marines. He turned to flee, when a loud voice called, "Surrender or die!" Looking back he saw six men standing erect, with muskets leveled at him. He was seized, taken into the barge, and conveyed to the British guard-ship Halifax, Captain Quarne, which was anchored behind a point of wooded land of Lloyd's Neck.

It has been asserted that the man who so suddenly departed from the room of the tavern at "The Cedars" when Hale entered was a Tory cousin of his, a dissipated fellow, who recognized his kinsman in disguise and betrayed him into the hands of the enemy; but there is no warrant for such an accusation.

Hale's captors stripped and searched him, and found the evidences of his being a spy in the papers concealed between the soles of his shoes. These formed as positive testimony as to his true character as did the papers found in AndrÉ's boot, which convicted the adjutant-general of the British army of being a spy.

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The Beekman Mansion.

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Beekman's Greenhouse.

Captain Hale was taken in one of the boats of the Halifax to General Howe's headquarters, at the elegant mansion of James Beekman, at Mount Pleasant, as the high bank of the East River at Turtle Bay was called. The house was situated at (present) Fifty-first Street and First Avenue. It was then deserted by its stanch Whig owner. Around it were beautiful lawns and blooming gardens; and near it was a greenhouse filled with exotic shrubbery and plants.[4] In that greenhouse Hale was confined, under a strong guard, on Saturday night, the 21st of September. He had been taken before Howe, who, without trial, and upon the evidence found in his shoes, condemned him to be hanged early the next morning. Howe delivered him into the custody of William Cunningham, the notorious British provost-marshal, with orders to execute him before sunrise the next day.

This severity, nay, absolute inhumanity, was doubtless the result of great irritation of the minds of the British officers at that moment. They had looked upon the little city of New York, containing twenty thousand inhabitants, as a most comfortable place for their winter-quarters. On the very morning when Hale was arrested (at a little past midnight), a fearful conflagration was accidentally begun at a low tavern on the wharf near Whitehall Slip (now Staten Island Ferry). Swiftly the flames spread, and were not quenched until about five hundred buildings were consumed. The British believed, and so declared, that the fire was the work of Whig incendiaries, to deprive the army of comforts. The city was yet ablaze while Hale was lying in Beekman's greenhouse, awaiting his doom in the early morning.

When Hale was taken before Howe, he frankly acknowledged his rank and his purpose as a spy. He firmly but respectfully told of his success in getting information in the British camps, and expressed his regret that he had not been able to serve his country better. "I was present at this interview," wrote a British officer, "and I observed that the frankness, the manly bearing, and the evident disinterested patriotism of the handsome young prisoner, sensibly touched a tender chord of General Howe's nature; but the stern rules of war concerning such offenses would not allow him to exercise even pity."