Writing of these events afterward, Captain Hull said, "It was evident that the superior force of the British would soon give them possession of New York. The Commander-in-chief, therefore, took a position at Fort Washington at the other end of the island. To ascertain the further object of the enemy was now a subject of anxious inquiry with General Washington."

In a letter to General Heath at this crisis Washington wrote as follows: "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 never was more uneasy than on account of my want of knowledge on this score."

Johnston, in his valuable "Life of Nathan Hale," says: "If he [Washington] had been anxious to fathom Howe's plans before the latter began the campaign from Staten Island, he was infinitely more so now. It was not enough to keep a ceaseless watch across the East river.... Like every other commander in history, all through the contest he came to depend much on intelligence gained through the 'secret service.'"

Stuart, the earliest reliable biographer of Hale, in writing of spies says: "The exigency of the American army which we have just described, would not permit the employment, in the service proposed, of any ordinary soldier, unpracticed in military observation and without skill as a draughtsman,—least of all of the common mercenary, to whom, allured by the hope of a large reward, such tasks are usually assigned. Accurate estimates of the numbers of the enemy, of their distribution, of the form and position of their various encampments, of their marchings and countermarchings, of the concentration at one point or another, of the instruments of war, but more than all of their plan of attack, as derived from the open report or the unguarded whispers in camp of officers or men,—estimates of all these things, requiring a quick eye, a cool head, a practical pencil, military science, general intelligence, and pliable address, were to be made. The common soldier would not answer the purpose, and the mercenary might yield to the higher seductions of the enemy, and betray his employers."

During the war with the French and Indians, American officers had learned the need of trained men who could keep the commanders informed both of the movements and of the plans of the opposing forces. Washington had learned this unforgetable lesson in Braddock's campaign, and, as full commander and wholly responsible not only for the immediate safety but for the future success of his little army, he realized the necessity of obtaining the most accurate information possible.

A corps collected from the best men in the army was organized, and its command was given to Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Knowlton. He had gained experience as a ranger in the French and Indian War, and was noted for his coolness, skill, and bravery at Bunker Hill. One hundred and fifty men and twenty officers were considered sufficient for the work assigned to this special corps, known as Knowlton's Rangers. They were divided into four companies. Two of the captains of these men were chosen from Knowlton's own regiment; the other two—one of them Nathan Hale—were from other companies. There can be little doubt that Nathan Hale was proud of his enrollment in this brave corps.

After Hale's services were ended, one brief record remained of "moneys due to the Company of Rangers commanded late by Captain Hale." After the 1st of September, about which time this company of Rangers was organized, it was constantly on duty wherever its services were required, and one can easily imagine Nathan Hale's enthusiasm in his enlarged duties.

Knowlton spoke to some of his officers of the wishes of the commanding general for some one to enter upon this special secret service,—wishes that so appealed to Hale that he at once seriously considered offering himself for the hazardous undertaking.

Captain Hull, two years his senior in age, and one year in advance of him in Yale, a close friend while in college and during their subsequent days, shall describe the personal interview between himself and Captain Hale in regard to this matter. It is said that many remonstrated with Hale at his decision, but Hull's statement shows the arguments of a practical man against which Hale had to contend.

In his memoirs Captain Hull writes thus of his last interview with Captain Hale:

"After his interview with Col. Knowlton, he repaired to my quarters and informed me of what had passed. He remarked '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 of no other mode of obtaining the information than by assuming a disguise and passing into the enemy's camp.'

"He asked my candid opinion. I replied that it was an act which involved serious consequences, and the propriety of it was doubtful; and though he viewed the business of a spy as a duty, yet he could not officially be required to perform it; that such a service was not claimed of the meanest soldier, though many might be willing, for a pecuniary compensation, to engage in it; and as for himself, the employment was not in keeping with his character. His nature was too frank and open for deceit and disguise, and he was incapable of acting a part equally foreign to his feelings and habits. Admitting that he was successful, who would wish success at such a price? Did his country demand the moral degradation of her sons, to advance her interests?

"Stratagems are resorted to in war; they are feints and evasions, performed under no disguise; are familiar to commanders; form a part of their plans, and, considered in a military view, lawful and advantageous. The tact with which they are executed exacts admiration from the enemy. But who respects the character of a spy, assuming the garb of friendship but to betray? The very death assigned him is expressive of the estimation in which he is held. As soldiers, let us do our duty in the field; contend for our legitimate rights, and not stain our honor by the sacrifice of integrity. And when present events, with all their deep and exciting interests, shall have passed away, may the blush of shame never arise, by the remembrance of an unworthy though successful act, in the performance of which we were deceived by the belief that it was sanctioned by its object. I ended by saying that, should he undertake the enterprise, his short, bright career would close with an ignominious death.

"He replied, '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,' he continued, 'I am not influenced by the 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 perform that service are imperative!'

"He spoke with warmth and decision. I replied, 'That such are your wishes cannot be doubted. But is this the most effectual mode of carrying them into execution? In the progress of the war there will be ample opportunity to give your talents and your life, should it be so ordered, to the sacred cause to which we are pledged. You can bestow upon your country the richest benefits, and win for yourself the highest honours. Your exertions for her interests will be daily felt, while, by one fatal act, you crush forever the power and opportunity Heaven offers for her glory and your happiness.'

"I urged him for the love of country, for the love of kindred, to abandon an enterprise which would only end in the sacrifice of the dearest interests of both. He paused—then affectionately taking my hand, he said, 'I will reflect, and do nothing but what duty demands.' He was absent from the army, and I feared he had gone to the British lines to execute his fatal purpose."

Just how soon after this conversation Captain Hale left camp on his perilous mission, cannot now be determined. We only know that it must have been early in September, during the first week or ten days. He proceeded with Sergeant Hempstead by the safest route, and reached Norwalk before finding a place to cross Long Island Sound.

Sergeant Hempstead alone has furnished the few details of Captain Hale's final preparations. He had decided to assume civilian's dress, probably that of an educated man seeking employment as tutor among the Americans still living in New York. Hempstead says he was dressed in a brown suit of citizen's clothes, with a round, broad-brimmed hat. On parting he gave Hempstead his private papers and letters, and his silver shoebuckles, to take care of for him.

It is, we think, not an undue inference that the letters and private papers he left in Hempstead's care were all to be sent to his family. These doubtless included personal letters to them, for no man such as we know Nathan Hale to have been would have faced a journey from which he might never return without some words of explanation, and possible farewell, to those he loved at home. There is one fact that all who believe in the sanctity of personal confidences and possible farewells will be glad to remember,—that not one private word from Nathan Hale to Alice Adams Ripley, or from her to him, has ever been exploited to satisfy the curiosity of those who have no right to share it.

Hempstead left Captain Hale, who, now fully committed to his hazardous quest, set forth on the armed sloop Schuyler with Captain Pond—one of the captains in the 19th Regiment—in command, across the Sound to Long Island. When he landed Captain Hale said farewell to the last American friend he was to be with, so far as we have any record.

Assuming that he reached this point on or near the 15th of September, one or two other facts suggest themselves. It is known that the Declaration of Independence had been carried to the American camp as early as possible after its announcement in July, had been read to the troops assembled for that purpose, and had been received with unbounded enthusiasm. It is probable that both Colonel Knowlton, later in command of the Rangers, and Captain Hale, one of its officers, were present at that reading and joined in the huzzas. Singularly enough, neither one of these two men was a citizen of the United States for three months.

Two months later Colonel Knowlton fell in the battle of Harlem Heights, on September 16th, six days before Nathan Hale's execution. Knowlton's last words are said to have been, "I do not care for my life, if we do but win the day."

From the moment of his leaving New York, the mind of such a man as Nathan Hale must have had solemn foreshadowings of the possible result, of the tremendous risk he was facing. Men do not grow old by the passing of years so much as by the endurance of great experiences, and in the few brief days that were left to Nathan Hale we know really nothing of his whereabouts, of what risks he ran, of how often he barely escaped recognition as a spy, where he slept, of any possible friends whom he may have encountered, or of any moment when his very life seemed to hang on the accidental glance of an enemy's eye.

Finally dawned the 21st of September. Hale had fully accomplished his mission.

There are conflicting accounts as to what occurred on the last evening of Nathan Hale's life, some going into minute details of occurrences that were assumed to have taken place. One with considerable plausibility says that, as the time had elapsed which he had expected to spend among the British (at the end of which time a boat was to be sent across the Sound for him), Hale, having finished his quest, had entered a tavern kept by a certain widow Chichester. She was a stanch friend of the Tories, and her house was the constant resort of Tories and British men and officers. While Hale was sitting in the tavern, apparently at his ease among the men there assembled, some one passed him whose face he thought familiar,—a man who glanced at him sharply and then passed from the room. Later it was said to have been his own cousin who betrayed him. Fortunately, there is not a word of truth in the assertion.

Although Deacon Hale writes that his son was undoubtedly betrayed by some one, it appears to have been effectually disproved that he was betrayed by a relative—a cousin who, it is stated, had never seen him, and therefore could not have recognized him. A much more probable rumor is that he was recognized by a loyalist woman who might easily have seen him before the American army retreated farther north on the island, and been impressed by his personal appearance and by his prowess in kicking the football over the trees in the Bowery. This feat Hale is said to have performed.

The report goes on to say that a man suddenly entered saying that a boat was approaching, and that Hale, supposing this boat to have been sent for him, at once left the room and went to the shore. If there is any truth in this narrative, it is very possible that here Hale committed his one indiscretion. In his joy at seeing the friends who had been sent for him, he may have uttered words of such joyous welcome that the officer who heard them must have known that this was some one expecting a boat, and presumably a boat from the opposite shore. At all events, it is stated that Hale, seeing his mistake when several marines presented their guns, turned to fly, stopping only when told by the officer to stand or be shot. These events are said to have taken place at Huntington, Long Island, about forty miles from New York.

But more than a century after Hale's death a British Orderly Book was found, containing the statement, dated September 22d, 1776, that follows:

Footnote [1] A spy fm the Enemy (by his own full Confession) Apprehended Last night, was this day Executed at 11 o'clock in front of the Artilery Park.

From an Orderly Book of the British Guard. Reproduced from the original in possession of the New York Historical Society.