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.