James Otis

The suggestion of the unknown speaker that it would be impossible for him to make his way toward the American lines without detection was by no means comforting to Enoch.

It was a situation, however, which he had anticipated, for he understood that the English would make every exertion to capture the messenger who had carried information to General Lafayette, and thereby, perhaps, saved him from capture.

In addition Enoch knew that the Tories would be most eager in their present mood to make him prisoner, for now that it seemed certain the city was to be evacuated, those who had been living a life of ease and comparative plenty because of their loyalty to the king felt particularly irritated against the Americans, who it was believed would so soon change very decidedly this satisfactory condition of affairs.

Enoch wondered not a little who the speakers were, and why they had chanced to halt directly outside his hiding-place.

From what he had heard he believed they were members of the army, and it seemed strange they should have strayed down to the river bank, until the apparent mystery was solved when one of them said impatiently:

"At what hour did you understand that Lord Howe would send the boat for us?"

"Eight o'clock."

"And this was the landing-place he appointed, was it not?"

"The messenger said the boat would be put in near-by a sloop which was hauled up on the shore, and unless I am mistaken this is the only craft of the kind in the vicinity."

"I wish we might have been able to take to Lord Howe the information that the young rebel was apprehended, for I really believe he has not recovered from the chagrin of having ordered the frigate to be made ready with all dispatch to carry the Marquis de Lafayette a prisoner to England when he had captured him."

"He will have the pleasure of hearing such news before midnight, as to that there can be no doubt. You said you had a copy of the order which is to be issued on the sixteenth?"

"Yes, I saw the rough draft on Sir Henry's desk, and asked permission to make a copy for personal use. It may be the last order issued in the rebel capital, and I thought might at some time prove a curiosity."

"Can you give me the substance of it without violating any confidence?"

"I think so. I was only enjoined to keep it a profound secret from the civilians. It may be that it is yet sufficiently light for me to read it."

Then ensued a brief silence, during which Enoch's heart beat a triumphant tattoo, for he realized that now, when a moment previous it had seemed as if all his opportunities for gaining information were lost, he was about to learn that which General Washington was so eager to know.

The fugitive crouched yet nearer the deck-planking as Lord Howe's intended guest read slowly:

Headquarters, Philadelphia, June 16, 1778.

"Lieutenant-General Knyphausen and Major-General Grant will cross the river to-morrow at four o'clock in the morning with the following regiments: Yagers, mounted and dismounted, Queen's Rangers, Hessian Grenadiers, Second Battalion New Jersey Volunteers,[C] Maryland Loyalists, Volunteers of Ireland, and the Caledonian Volunteers. All wagons and carts, with the wagons and bathorses[D] belonging to the general and staff officers, are to be embarked this afternoon at half-past three, at the upper coal wharf, and to-morrow at six all the saddle horses belonging to the general and staff officers are to be embarked at the same place, except two for the commander-in-chief, and one for each of the general officers. All the sick that are absolutely unable to march are to be at Primrose's Wharf to-morrow morning at five o'clock, where they will be received on board the Active."

"I fancied we would go around by water," Enoch heard one of the men say after the order had been read; "but according to that it is evident we shall march across New Jersey."

"I believe that was Sir Henry's first intention; but fearing head winds might lengthen the passage, and that the rebel Washington would have an opportunity to capture New York, he has decided no such risks should be taken. For my part I am not unwilling to exchange this life of idleness for one of action, and hope we may see plenty of it."

"It appears quite evident your wish will be granted, for it is reported the rebels are in good condition for the summer campaign, and from the fact that they have so insolently rejected his majesty's proffers of peace I argue they are much stronger in numbers than ever before."

"However that may be, I care not; we shall soon whip out the overweening confidence in their own abilities, and before this campaign is ended I predict Congress will be suing for that which it has so promptly refused. Here comes a boat, and, if I mistake not, we shall learn considerably more of Sir Henry's intentions this evening than we already know."

The sound of footsteps on the sand told that the officers were moving toward the water's edge, and, shortly after, Enoch could distinguish the click of oars in the rowlocks.

Then came the short, quick orders of the coxswain in charge of the craft, and five minutes later a profound silence reigned.

The one thought now in Enoch's mind was, that he had learned that which it was of the utmost importance General Washington should know.

For the moment he forgot that armed men were searching for him in every direction, and that his capture was almost certain to be followed immediately by an ignominious death.

He had accomplished the mission with which he and Greene were intrusted, and it only remained to carry the information to headquarters.

With this thought came once more the realization of his utter helplessness and desperate situation.

It was possible he might remain undiscovered in his hiding-place until sunrise; but no longer, for then the laborers would resume work upon the sloop, and must unquestionably soon discover there was more in the hold than they had left there the night previous.

"It is more than my own life now that I am working for," the boy said to himself. "By repeating what I have heard General Washington will have a chance to strike a blow at the Britishers, and I shall indeed have been of service to the cause. That order is to be issued on the sixteenth, and the enemy will begin to leave on the seventeenth. There is plenty of time in which to carry the news, if I can succeed in finding Greene."

Fully alive to the importance of what he had learned, Enoch was now prepared to take greater risks than when it was only a question of saving his own life.

The personal danger appeared to have been lessened, and the one idea in his mind was to make known without unnecessary delay that which he had learned.

No sound broke the stillness of the night as the boy clambered up from his damp hiding-place until he could peer out through the hatchway.

The darkness shrouded everything, and as if the elements were in sympathy with his purpose, heavy clouds obscured even the light of the stars.

"I couldn't have a better chance, and if I don't get past the guards which have been set it will be because I am stupid," Enoch thought as he drew himself up to the combing of the hatchway and dropped noiselessly down on the sand beneath.

Here he stood motionless an instant to listen.

In the distance could be heard the noises of the city, but close at hand appeared to be no living thing save himself.

Following up the bank of the river to the creek, and then into Third Street, he went cautiously, ready at any moment to break into a run, or retreat as should be necessary.

To venture upon the street did not seem prudent, therefore he swam the upper end of the creek, and made his way by a zigzag course, avoiding the thoroughfares to traverse gardens and lawns, but all the while continuing on in as nearly a direct course as was consistent with safety toward the farmhouse where he believed Greene would be found.

More than once he heard the tramp of the patrol, and at such times he doubled here and there, moving cautiously as an Indian, and on the alert for the first sounds which should proclaim he was discovered.

An hour previous it had seemed impossible to him he could escape even the ordinary number of guards; but now when he knew they had been doubled, perhaps trebled, he instinctively—almost as if by chance—avoided them, until he was beyond the city and on the road over which Greene traveled when he brought his produce into the market.

Even now he knew he was far from safe, for squads of soldiers often patrolled the country roads at a distance of four or five miles from the town at a late hour in the night, and he fully believed that on this occasion scouting parties would be sent in every direction.

Had he heard the orders given, however, he would have known that the only precaution taken to prevent his escape was to double the number of guards around the town, and that those who were searching for him believed he was yet hidden in some building near the City Tavern. Consequently a rigorous search was being instituted in that quarter, while he was lessening each moment the distance between himself and the American camp.

Even when he was so far out in the country that the lights of the city could no longer be seen, he was afraid to travel at his utmost speed lest he should inadvertently come upon the patrol; but stopped at short intervals to listen.

Two hours passed, and during all this time he had continued steadily onward, without having heard anything to arouse his fears.

"Who would have believed I could have given them the slip so readily," he said to himself. "I thought when I jumped on board the sloop that I should only leave there as a prisoner, and perhaps if that order hadn't been read where I could hear it, I'd still be crouching in the hold waiting for the redcoats to pounce upon me. What a fool I was to so far forget myself as to brush up against that Quaker! Even if they hadn't suspected me of being a spy, I stood a chance of getting a flogging for my impudence. Yet suppose I hadn't been discovered? Then I shouldn't know the exact date set down for the evacuation of the city. Everything has happened in my favor, and—"

He ceased speaking very suddenly, for in the distance he could hear the sound of footsteps, and waiting only long enough to assure himself there had been no mistake, Enoch darted into the bushes that lined the road on either side at this point.

Then came the thought that it was nearly time for Greene to go into town, and pressing as closely to the edge of the road as was possible without showing himself, the boy waited until the pedestrian should appear.

After a short time he saw a single figure approaching with a burden upon his back; but the night was so dark that Enoch was unable to determine whether this was the man whom he hoped to meet or some enemy.

He hesitated to make himself known until he realized that if the spy should pass him he might have difficulty in carrying his news to Valley Forge, and, regardless of possible danger, cried softly:

"Robert Greene!"

The figure halted, looked around for a moment, and then was apparently about to resume the journey when Enoch asked in a low tone:

"Is that you, Mr. Greene?"

"I know no one of that name, and if it was mine wouldn't be willing to own it to one who is afraid to show himself."

Enoch recognized the voice, and springing forward with an exclamation of joy literally hugged the vegetable-laden spy.

"Is it you, Enoch?" Greene asked in surprise. "What has happened? Have you been in danger?"

"I was discovered by a Quaker at whose house General Lafayette lodged at Barren Hill, and seized by him and a British officer in front of the City Tavern."

"But how did you escape?"

"Come with me into the bushes, for I am afraid men will be sent out on this road, since you told the patrol I was in your employ."

When the two were screened from view of any who might chance to pass, Enoch told his story in all its details, interrupted only by low chuckles of satisfaction now and then, and exclamations of pleasurable surprise when the more important portions of his adventures were related.

"You have done a good work this night, lad! A brave work, and your seeming misfortunes were the luckiest that ever befell man or boy. I was not mistaken in you, lad."

"But I haven't done anything, Mr. Greene. It was all an accident, and one that came very near costing my life."

"Never mind how it came about. The work has been done, and we can carry to Valley Forge such news as has long been waited for—news that will change the condition of affairs there very decidedly."

As he spoke Greene sprang to his feet, and seizing Enoch by the arm went hurriedly into the road.

"Are you going to leave your market-truck?" Enoch asked.

"I would willingly leave everything on Rogers' farm to the mercy of the Britishers after such word had been brought, my boy. Now step out at your liveliest pace until we can get the horses, and then it is a question of a quick ride to headquarters to announce the fact that our work has been finished in the completest manner."

"But isn't it dangerous to go ahead too boldly? There may be soldiers between here and the farm."

"I will answer for it there are none, lad, for haven't I just traveled over this road? It is seldom they come out so far unless in goodly force."

"I thought perhaps scouts might be sent in every direction, for the two men whom I heard talking while I was in the sloop seemed very certain I'd be captured."

"They are most likely looking for you in the city yet, and a rare time they'll have of it. I would have been willing to give a good many shillings if I could have seen the old Quaker's face when you bowled him over. So he must have been the one who warned Howe of General Lafayette's advance? We'll settle matters with him after the evacuation, and there are one or two other Quakers who should be attended to, particularly he who would have made prisoners of Generals Reed and Cadwalader."

"I have never heard of him."

"Then I will tell you the story, and it isn't a bad one, seeing that it didn't turn out to our disadvantage. The two generals were reconnoitering the country, and stopped at the house of a Quaker with whom they were acquainted. I don't remember his name. After leaving him, and it may be certain he protested that he dearly loved the cause, it began to rain, and Cadwalader and Reed, fearing lest their blue cloaks should be injured by the water, turned them inside out. Now it so chanced that these same cloaks were lined with red, and as they returned past the house they had just visited, in the gloom of the evening it was not unnatural that they should have been mistaken for English officers. That is exactly the mistake the Quaker made, and he rushed out quickly, shouting: 'Gentlemen, gentlemen, if you will only turn back, you will certainly catch General Reed and General Cadwalader, who have just gone down this road.' I'll lay guineas to pence that he could have bitten his tongue when the two officers made themselves known. And what a wigging they gave him! General Reed promised that when the proper time came he would square accounts with that man of peace, and I reckon he won't forget his word. Neither shall I neglect the Quaker you tumbled over in front of the City Tavern. That was a narrow escape for you, my boy."

"I don't care to try anything of the kind again," Enoch replied grimly.

"Not unless it could result as happily as this adventure has. You made a mistake in being too eager to overhear the conversation, and by that very mistake accomplished all we wanted to know."

Greene did not cease commenting upon the events of the evening and congratulating Enoch, until they had arrived at the farmhouse where he pretended to be employed.

There horses were procured with the least possible delay, and the two set out toward Valley Forge at full speed, Enoch's heart beating rapidly with joy and exultation, as he thought that at last he would have an opportunity of speaking with General Washington, and would be a welcome visitor.

Only at such times as it was absolutely necessary did the travelers slacken their pace, and the sun had not yet risen when they were halted by the pickets of the encampment.

Greene was provided with a password which would admit him without delay, whatever the parole or the countersign might be, and after a brief pause the two spies galloped at full speed up to the rude hut where General Washington had lived during the severe winter.

"Robert Greene to see the commander-in-chief on urgent business," was the reply to the challenge of the sentries who guarded the building, and so well was the spy's name known that no hesitation was made in awakening the general.

The two were ushered into the sleeping apartment, and there, as he lay in bed, his face lighted up in anticipation of welcome news, Enoch saw the commander whom he revered.

After Greene had hurriedly given the information they had brought, the boy was made more than happy when Washington took him by the hand and said:

"You are a brave lad, Enoch Ball. You have rendered good service, and I thank you."

To be thanked by General Washington was a greater reward, in Enoch's eyes, than a commission would have been in Jacob's, and he felt that whatever the future might have in store for him he had been fully repaid for everything by these three words from such a man.

"Will it be advisable, do you think, sir, for the boy to return to Philadelphia?" Greene asked.

"Not to the town itself, while the British are in possession; but he might remain at your rendezvous to act as messenger between there and the camp, although I question if you will have any further important information to bring us, unless it should chance that the order was not issued."

"It is my desire, sir, to enlist as a soldier," Enoch said timidly.

"It would seem as if you already were one, save for the ceremony of signing your name. Remain with Greene until some decided move is made, and then it shall be my care to see that your desire is granted. In the meantime you may consider yourself as attached to my staff in order that there shall be no question about rations. Mr. Greene, you will see that the boy messes with my aids while he is in camp."

Enoch was so overwhelmed by the honor thus conferred upon him as to be hardly aware of what he did during the next few moments.

When Greene touched him on the arm to signify that the interview was at an end and they should depart, he followed like one in a dream wherever the spy led him, until the latter said, laying his hand heavily upon the boy's shoulder:

"Haven't you a word of comment, lad, upon the honor you have received? Let me tell you there are few men in the Continental army who wouldn't be bristling with pride in your place."

"It doesn't seem possible! I cannot realize that the general really meant it! I mess with his aids!"

"But it is not only messing, lad; you are attached to his staff—perhaps not in a very important position; but when it is known that because of personal services you have rendered, the commander-in-chief allows you to consider yourself one of the 'members of his family,' as the staff is termed, you will be treated with greater respect than if Congress had given you a colonel's commission."

"I know the honor is great," Enoch said slowly; "but I am almost afraid—"

"Of what?"

"That in such a position I shall do something wrong—make a fool of myself, or so behave that the general will be sorry he praised me."

"Never you fear for that, lad. A boy who can have such fears won't go far astray. Attached to the staff of General Washington, the commander-in-chief of the Continental army! Well, if that isn't an honor for a boy hardly more than sixteen years old I don't know what is! And it all came through a Tory Quaker, and the bungling of a spy in his work! Talk about chance!"

"That's just it," Enoch added hurriedly. "It was all a chance, therefore I don't deserve it."

"But I allow you do, my boy, so we won't discuss the matter. We're heading straight now for my regiment, and I intend that your friends shall hear this wonderful piece of news, even if I am forced to awaken them for the purpose of telling it."

"Why not wait until daylight?"

"Because I particularly want to see the expression on Master Ludwick's face when he learns that you have earned more than a commission."

"I am afraid Jacob will feel sore."

"Afraid? I know he will, and that's why I propose telling the news at once."

"But he is a good friend, and was never as disagreeable as since the night we carried the news to General Lafayette. Then he allowed himself to believe we were to be made officers at once, and it was disappointment that prevented him from acting as he would have done the day before."

"He could never really have had the good of the cause at heart, otherwise his father's threats would not have been necessary in order to force him to enlist. However, I will take your word for it that he is a good comrade; but at the same time I am bound he and all the members of my regiment shall know what General Washington has said to you this evening."