On The Track Of A Traitor


While Major Andr['e] was dying the death of a spy, General

Arnold, his tempter and betrayer, was living the life of a

cherished traitor, in the midst of the British army at New

York. This was a state of affairs far from satisfactory to

the American authorities. The tool had suffered; the schemer

had escaped. Could Arnold be captured, and made to pay the

penalty of his treason, it would be a sharp lesson of

retribution to any who might feel disposed to follow his

base example.



Washington had his secret correspondents in New York, and

from them had learned that Arnold was living in quarters

adjoining those of Sir Henry Clinton, at but a short

distance from the river, and apparently with no thought of

or precaution against danger. It might be possible to seize

him and carry him away bodily from the midst of his new

friends.



Sending for Major Henry Lee, a brave and shrewd cavalry

leader, Washington broached to him this important matter,

and submitted a plan of action which seemed to him to

promise success.



"It is a delicate and dangerous project," he said. "Much

depends on our finding an agent fit for such hazardous work.

You may have the man in your corps. Whoever volunteers for

this duty will lay me under the greatest personal

obligation, and may expect an ample reward. But no time is

to be lost. He must proceed, if possible, to-night."



"Not only courage and daring, but very peculiar talent, are

needed for such an enterprise," said Lee. "I have plenty of

brave men, but can think of only one whom I can recommend

for such a duty as this. His name is John Champe; his rank,

sergeant-major, but there is one serious obstacle in the

way,--he must appear to desert, and I fear that Champe has

too high a sense of military honor for that."



"Try him," said Washington. "The service he will do to his

country far outweighs anything he can do in the ranks. Rumor

says that other officers of high rank are ready to follow

Arnold's example. If we can punish this traitor, he will

have no imitators."



"I can try," answered Lee. "I may succeed. Champe is not

without ambition, and the object to be attained is a great

one. I may safely promise him the promotion which he

ardently desires."



"That will be but part of his reward," said Washington.



Lee sent for Champe. There entered in response a young man,

large and muscular of build, saturnine of countenance; a

grave, thoughtful, silent person, safe to trust with a

secret, for his words were few, his sense of honor high. In

all the army there was not his superior in courage and

persistence in anything he should undertake.



It was no agreeable surprise to the worthy fellow to learn

what he was desired to do. The plan was an admirable one,

he admitted, it promised the best results. He did not care

for peril, and was ready to venture on anything that would

not involve his honor; but to desert from his corps, to win

the scorn and detestation of his fellows, to seem to play

the traitor to his country,--these were serious obstacles.

He begged to be excused.



Lee combated his objections. Success promised honor to

himself and to his corps, the gratitude of his country, the

greatest service to his beloved commander-in-chief.

Desertion, for such a purpose, carried with it no dishonor,

and any stain upon his character would vanish when the truth

became known. The conference was a long one; in the end

Lee's arguments proved efficacious; Champe yielded, and

promised to undertake the mission.



The necessary instructions had already been prepared by

Washington himself. The chosen agent was to deliver letters

to two persons in New York, who were in Washington's

confidence, and who would lend him their assistance. He was

to use his own judgment in procuring aid for the capture of

Arnold, and to lay such plans as circumstances should

suggest; and he was strictly enjoined not to kill the

traitor under any circumstances.



All this settled, the question of the difficulties in the

way arose. Between the American camp and the British outpost

were many pickets and patrols. Parties of marauding

patriots, like those that had seized Andr['e], might be in the

way. Against these Lee could offer no aid. The desertion

must seem a real one. All he could do would be to delay

pursuit. For the rest, Champe must trust to his own skill

and daring.



Eleven o'clock was the hour fixed. At that hour the worthy

sergeant, taking his cloak, valise, and orderly-book, and

with three guineas in his pocket, which Lee had given him,

secretly mounted his horse and slipped quietly from the

camp.



Lee immediately went to bed, and seemingly to sleep, though

he had never been more wide awake. A half-hour passed. Then

a heavy tread was heard outside the major's quarters, and a

loud knock came upon his door. It was some time before he

could be aroused.



"Who is there?" he asked, in sleepy tones.



"It is I, Captain Carnes," was the reply. "I am here for

orders. One of our patrols has just fallen in with a

dragoon, who put spurs to his horse on being challenged, and

fled at full speed. He is a deserter, and must be pursued."



Lee still seemed half asleep. He questioned the officer in a

drowsy way, affecting not to understand him. When at length

the captain's purpose was made clear to his seemingly drowsy

wits, Lee ridiculed the idea that one of his men had

deserted. Such a thing had happened but once during the

whole war. He could not believe it possible.



"It has happened now," persisted Captain Carnes. "The fellow

is a deserter, and must be pursued."



Lee still affected incredulity, and was with difficulty

brought to order that the whole squadron should be

mustered, to see if any of them were missing. This done,

there was no longer room for doubt or delay. Champe, the

sergeant-major, was gone, and with him his arms, baggage,

and orderly-book.



Captain Carnes ordered that pursuit should be made at once.

Here, too, Lee made such delay as he could without arousing

suspicion; and when the pursuing party was ready he changed

its command, giving it to Lieutenant Middleton, a

tender-hearted young man, whom he could trust to treat

Champe mercifully if he should be overtaken. These various

delays had the desired effect. By the time the party

started, Champe had been an hour on the road.



It was past twelve o'clock of a starry night when Middleton

and his men took to horse, and galloped away on the track of

the deserter. It was a plain track, unluckily; a trail that

a child might have followed. There had been a shower at

sunset, sharp enough to wash out all previous hoof-marks

from the road. The footprints of a single horse were all

that now appeared. In addition to this, the horse-shoes of

Lee's legion had a private mark, by which they could be

readily recognized. There could be no question; those foot

prints were made by the horse of the deserter.



Here was a contingency unlooked for by Lee. The pursuit

could be pushed on at full speed. At every fork or

cross-road a trooper sprang quickly from his horse and

examined the trail. It needed but a glance to discover what

road had been taken. On they went, with scarce a moment's

loss of time, and with sure knowledge that they were on the

fugitive's track.



At sunrise the pursuing party found themselves at the top of

a ridge in the road, near the "Three Pigeons," a road-side

tavern several miles north of the village of Bergen. Looking

ahead, their eyes fell on the form of the deserter. He was

but half a mile in advance. They had gained on him greatly

during the night.



At the same moment Champe perceived them. Both parties

spurred their horses to greater speed, and away went

fugitive and pursuers at a rattling pace. The roads in that

vicinity were well known to them all. There was a short cut

through the woods from near the Three Pigeons to the bridge

below Bergen. Middleton sent part of his men by this route

to cut off the fugitive, while he followed the main road

with the rest. He felt sure now that he had the deserter,

for he could not reach the British outposts without crossing

the bridge.



On they went. No long time elapsed before the two divisions

met at the bridge. But Champe was not between them. The trap

had been sprung, but had failed to catch its game. He had in

some strange manner disappeared. What was to be done? How

had he eluded them?



Middleton rode hastily back to Bergen, and inquired if a

dragoon had passed through the village that morning.



"Yes; and not long ago."



"Which way did he go?"



"That we cannot say. No one took notice."



Middleton examined the road. Other horses had been out that

morning, and the Lee corps footprint was no longer to be

seen. But at a short distance from the village the trail

again became legible and the pursuit was resumed. In a few

minutes Champe was discovered. He had reached a point near

the water's edge, and was making signals to certain British

galleys which lay in the stream.



The truth was that the fugitive knew of the short cut quite

as well as his pursuers, and had shrewdly judged that they

would take it, and endeavor to cut him off before he could

reach the enemy's lines at Paulus Hook. He knew, besides,

that two of the king's galleys lay in the bay, a mile from

Bergen, and in front of the small settlement of Communipaw.

Hither he directed his course, lashing his valise, as he

went, upon his back.



Champe now found himself in imminent peril of capture. There

had been no response from the galleys to his signals. The

pursuers were close at hand, and pushing forward with shouts

of triumph. Soon they were but a few hundred yards away.

There was but one hope left. Champe sprang from his horse,

flung away the scabbard of his sword, and with the naked

blade in his hand ran across the marshy ground before him,

leaped into the waters of the bay, and swam lustily for the

galleys, calling loudly for help.



A boat had just before left the side of the nearest galley.

As the pursuers reined up their horses by the side of the

marsh, the fugitive was hauled in and was swiftly rowed back

to the ship. Middleton, disappointed in his main object,

took the horse, cloak, and scabbard of the fugitive and

returned with them to camp.



"He has not been killed?" asked Lee, hastily, on seeing

these articles.



"No; the rascal gave us the slip. He is safely on a British

galley, and this is all we have to show."



A few days afterwards Lee received a letter from Champe, in

a disguised hand and without signature, transmitted through

a secret channel which had been arranged, telling of his

success up to this point, and what he proposed to do.



As it appeared, the seeming deserter had been well received

in New York. The sharpness of the pursuit and the

orderly-book which he bore seemed satisfactory proofs of his

sincerity of purpose. The captain of the galley sent him to

New York, with a letter to Sir Henry Clinton.



Clinton was glad to see him. For a deserter to come to him

from a legion so faithful to the rebel cause as that of

Major Lee seemed an evidence that the American side was

rapidly weakening. He questioned Champe closely. The

taciturn deserter answered him briefly, but with such a show

of sincerity as to win his confidence. The interview ended

in Clinton's giving him a couple of guineas, and bidding him

to call on General Arnold, who was forming a corps of

loyalists and deserters, and who would be glad to have his

name on his rolls. This suggestion hit Champe's views

exactly. It was what had been calculated upon by Washington

in advance. The seeming deserter called upon Arnold, who

received him courteously, and gave him quarters among his

recruiting sergeants. He asked him to join his legion, but

Champe declined, saying that if caught by the rebels in this

corps he was sure to be hanged.



A few days sufficed the secret agent to lay his plans. He

delivered the letters which had been given him, and made

arrangements with one of the parties written to for aid in

the proposed abduction of Arnold. This done, he went to

Arnold, told him that he had changed his mind, and agreed to

enlist in his legion. His purpose now was to gain free

intercourse with him, that he might learn all that was

possible about his habits.



Arnold's quarters were at No. 3 Broadway. Back of the house

was a garden, which extended towards the water's edge.

Champe soon learned that it was Arnold's habit to seek his

quarters about midnight, and that before going to bed he

always visited the garden. Adjoining this garden was a dark

alley, which led to the street. In short, all the

surroundings and circumstances were adapted to the design,

and seemed to promise success.



The plan was well laid. Two patriotic accomplices were

found. One of them was to have a boat in readiness by the

river-side. On the night fixed upon they were to conceal

themselves in Arnold's garden at midnight, seize and gag

him when he came out for his nightly walk, and take him by

way of the alley, and of unfrequented streets in the

vicinity, to the adjoining river-side. In case of meeting

any one and being questioned, it was arranged that they

should profess to be carrying a drunken soldier to the

guard-house. Once in the boat, Hoboken could quickly be

reached. Here assistance from Lee's corps had been arranged

for.






The plot was a promising one. Champe prepared for it by

removing some of the palings between the garden and the

alley. These he replaced in such a way that they could be

taken out again without noise. All being arranged, he wrote

to Lee, and told him that on the third night from that date,

if all went well, the traitor would be delivered upon the

Jersey shore. He must be present, at an appointed place in

the woods at Hoboken, to receive him.



This information gave Lee the greatest satisfaction. On the

night in question he left camp with a small party, taking

with him three led horses, for the prisoner and his captors,

and at midnight sought the appointed spot. Here he waited

with slowly declining hope. Hour after hour passed; the gray

light of dawn appeared in the east; the sun rose over the

waters; yet Champe and his prisoner failed to appear. Deeply

disappointed, Lee led his party back to camp.



The cause of the failure may be told in a few words. It was

a simple one. The merest chance saved Arnold from the fate

which he so richly merited. This was, that on the very day

which Champe had fixed for the execution of his plot, Arnold

changed his quarters, his purpose being to attend to the

embarkation of an expedition to the south, which was to be

under his command.



In a few days Lee received a letter from his agent, telling

the cause of failure, and saying that, at present, success

was hopeless. In fact, Champe found himself unexpectedly in

an awkward situation. Arnold's American legion was to form

part of this expedition. Champe had enlisted in it. He was

caught in a trap of his own setting. Instead of crossing the

Hudson that night, with Arnold as his prisoner, he found

himself on board a British transport, with Arnold as his

commander. He was in for the war on the British side; forced

to face his fellow-countrymen in the field.



We need not tell the story of Arnold's expedition to

Virginia, with the brutal incidents which history relates

concerning it. It will suffice to say that Champe formed

part of it, all his efforts to desert proving fruitless. It

may safely be said that no bullet from his musket reached

the American ranks, but he was forced to brave death from

the hands of those with whom alone he was in sympathy.



Not until Arnold's corps had joined Cornwallis at Petersburg

did its unwilling recruit succeed in escaping. Taking to the

mountains he made his way into North Carolina, and was not

long in finding himself among friends. His old corps was in

that State, taking part in the pursuit of Lord Rawdon. It

had just passed the Congaree in this pursuit when, greatly

to the surprise of his old comrades, the deserter appeared

in their ranks. Their surprise was redoubled when they saw

Major Lee receive him with the utmost cordiality. A few

minutes sufficed to change their surprise to admiration.

There was no longer occasion for secrecy. Champe's story was

told, and was received with the utmost enthusiasm by his old

comrades. So this was the man they had pursued so closely,

this man who had been seeking to put the arch-traitor within

their hands! John Champe they declared, was a comrade to be

proud of, and his promotion to a higher rank was the plain

duty of the military authorities.



Washington knew too well, however, what would be the fate of

his late agent, if taken by the enemy, to subject him to

this peril. He would have been immediately hanged. Champe

was, therefore, discharged from the service, after having

been richly rewarded by the commander-in-chief. When

Washington, seventeen years afterwards, was preparing

against a threatened war with the French, he sent to Lee for

information about Champe, whom he desired to make a captain

of infantry. He was too late. The gallant sergeant-major had

joined a higher corps. He had enlisted in the grand army of

the dead.



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