CHAPTER XXVI
These limbs are strengthened with a soldier's toil, Nor has this cheek been ever blanched with fear-- But this sad tale of thine enervates all Within me that I once could boast as man; Chill trembling agues seize upon my frame, And tears of childish sorrow pour, apace, Through scarred channels that were marked by wounds. --_Duo._
The friends of Henry Wharton had placed so much reliance on hisinnocence, that they were unable to see the full danger of hissituation. As the moment of trial, however, approached, the uneasinessof the youth himself increased; and after spending most of the nightwith his afflicted family, he awoke, on the following morning, from ashort and disturbed slumber, to a clearer sense of his condition, and asurvey of the means that were to extricate him from it with life. Therank of Andre, and the importance of the measures he was plotting,together with the powerful intercessions that had been made in hisbehalf, occasioned his execution to be stamped with greater notorietythan the ordinary events of the war. But spies were frequently arrested;and the instances that occurred of summary punishment for this crimewere numerous. These were facts that were well known to both Dunwoodieand the prisoner; and to their experienced judgments the preparationsfor the trial were indeed alarming. Notwithstanding their apprehensions,they succeeded so far in concealing them, that neither Miss Peyton norFrances was aware of their extent. A strong guard was stationed in theoutbuilding of the farmhouse where the prisoner was quartered, andseveral sentinels watched the avenues that approached the dwelling.Another was constantly near the room of the British officer. A court wasalready detailed to examine into the circumstances; and upon theirdecision the fate of Henry rested.
The moment at length arrived, and the different actors in theapproaching investigation assembled. Frances experienced a feeling likesuffocation, as, after taking her seat in the midst of her family, hereyes wandered over the group who were thus collected. The judges, threein number, sat by themselves, clad in the vestments of their profession,and maintained a gravity worthy of the occasion, and becoming in theirrank. In the center was a man of advanced years, and whose wholeexterior bore the stamp of early and long-tried military habits. Thiswas the president of the court; and Frances, after taking a hasty andunsatisfactory view of his associates, turned to his benevolentcountenance as to the harbinger of mercy to her brother. There was amelting and subdued expression in the features of the veteran, that,contrasted with the rigid decency and composure of the others, couldnot fail to attract her notice. His attire was strictly in conformity tothe prescribed rules of the service to which he belonged; but while hisair was erect and military, his fingers trifled with a kind ofconvulsive and unconscious motion, with a bit of crape that entwined thehilt of the sword on which his body partly reclined, and which, likehimself, seemed a relic of older times. There were the workings of anunquiet soul within; but his military front blended awe with the pitythat its exhibition excited. His associates were officers selected fromthe eastern troops, who held the fortresses of West Point and theadjacent passes; they were men who had attained the meridian of life,and the eye sought in vain the expression of any passion or emotion onwhich it might seize as an indication of human infirmity. In theirdemeanor there was a mild, but a grave, intellectual reserve. If therewas no ferocity nor harshness to chill, neither was there compassion norinterest to attract. They were men who had long acted under the dominionof a prudent reason, and whose feelings seemed trained to a perfectsubmission to their judgments.
Before these arbiters of his fate Henry Wharton was ushered under thecustody of armed men. A profound and awful silence succeeded hisentrance, and the blood of Frances chilled as she noted the gravecharacter of the whole proceedings. There was but little of pomp in thepreparations, to impress her imagination; but the reserved, businesslikeair of the whole scene made it seem, indeed, as if the destinies of lifeawaited the result. Two of the judges sat in grave reserve, fixing theirinquiring eyes on the object of their investigation; but the presidentcontinued gazing around with uneasy, convulsive motions of the musclesof the face, that indicated a restlessness foreign to his years andduty. It was Colonel Singleton, who, but the day before, had learned thefate of Isabella, but who stood forth in the discharge of a duty thathis country required at his hands. The silence, and the expectation inevery eye, at length struck him, and making an effort to collecthimself, he spoke, in the tones of one used to authority.
"Bring forth the prisoner," he said, with a wave of the hand.
The sentinels dropped the points of their bayonets towards the judges,and Henry Wharton advanced, with a firm step, into the center of theapartment. All was now anxiety and eager curiosity. Frances turned for amoment in grateful emotion, as the deep and perturbed breathing ofDunwoodie reached her ears; but her brother again concentrated all herinterest in one feeling of intense care. In the background were arrangedthe inmates of the family who owned the dwelling, and behind them,again, was a row of shining faces of ebony, glistening with pleasedwonder. Amongst these was the faded luster of Caesar Thompson'scountenance.
"You are said," continued the president, "to be Henry Wharton, a captainin his Britannic Majesty's 60th regiment of foot."
"I am."
"I like your candor, sir; it partakes of the honorable feelings of asoldier, and cannot fail to impress your judges favorably."
"It would be prudent," said one of his companions, "to advise theprisoner that he is bound to answer no more than he deems necessary;although we are a court of martial law, yet, in this respect, we own theprinciples of all free governments."
A nod of approbation from the silent member was bestowed on this remark,and the president proceeded with caution, referring to the minutes heheld in his hand.
"It is an accusation against you, that, being an officer of the enemy,you passed the pickets of the American army at the White Plains, indisguise, on the 29th of October last, whereby you are suspected ofviews hostile to the interests of America, and have subjected yourselfto the punishment of a spy."
The mild but steady tones of the speaker, as he slowly repeated thesubstance of this charge, were full of authority. The accusation was soplain, the facts so limited, the proof so obvious, and the penalty sowell established, that escape seemed impossible. But Henry replied, withearnest grace,--
"That I passed your pickets in disguise, is true; but--"
"Peace!" interrupted the president. "The usages of war are stern enoughin themselves; you need not aid them to your own condemnation."
"The prisoner can retract that declaration, if he please," remarkedanother judge. "His confession, if taken, goes fully to provethe charge."
"I retract nothing that is true," said Henry proudly.
The two nameless judges heard him in silent composure, yet there was noexultation mingled with their gravity. The president now appeared,however, to take new interest in the scene.
"Your sentiment is noble, sir," he said. "I only regret that a youthfulsoldier should so far be misled by loyalty as to lend himself to thepurposes of deceit."
"Deceit!" echoed Wharton. "I thought it prudent to guard against capturefrom my enemies."
"A soldier, Captain Wharton, should never meet his enemy but openly, andwith arms in his hands. I have served two kings of England, as I nowserve my native land; but never did I approach a foe, unless under thelight of the sun, and with honest notice that an enemy was nigh."
"You are at liberty to explain what your motives were in entering theground held by our army in disguise," said the other judge, with aslight movement of the muscles of his mouth.
"I am the son of this aged man before you," continued Henry. "It was tovisit him that I encountered the danger. Besides, the country below isseldom held by your troops, and its very name implies a right to eitherparty to move at pleasure over its territory."
"Its name, as a neutral ground, is unauthorized by law; it is anappellation that originates with the
condition of the country. Butwherever an army goes, it carries its rights along, and the first is theability to protect itself."
"I am no casuist, sir," returned the youth; "but I feel that my fatheris entitled to my affection, and I would encounter greater risks toprove it to him in his old age."
"A very commendable spirit," cried the veteran. "Come, gentlemen, thisbusiness brightens. I confess, at first, it was very bad, but no man cancensure him for desiring to see his parents."
"And have you proof that such only was your intention?"
"Yes--here," said Henry, admitting a ray of hope. "Here is proof--myfather, my sister, Major Dunwoodie, all know it."
"Then, indeed," returned his immovable judge, "we may be able to saveyou. It would be well, sir, to examine further into this business."
"Certainly," said the president, with alacrity. "Let the elder Mr.Wharton approach and take the oath."
The father made an effort at composure, and, advancing with a feeblestep, he complied with the necessary forms of the court.
"You are the father of the prisoner?" said Colonel Singleton, in asubdued voice, after pausing a moment in respect for the agitation ofthe witness.
"He is my only son."
"And what do you know of his visit to your house, on the 29th day ofOctober last?"
"He came, as he told you, to see me and his sisters."
"Was he in disguise?" asked the other judge.
"He did not wear the uniform of the 60th."
"To see his sisters, too!" said the president with great emotion. "Haveyou daughters, sir?"
"I have two--both are in this house."
"Had he a wig?" interrupted the officer.
"There was some such thing I do believe, upon his head."
"And how long had you been separated?" asked the president.
"One year and two months."
"Did he wear a loose greatcoat of coarse materials?" inquired theofficer, referring to the paper that contained the charges.
"There was an overcoat."
"And you think that it was to see you, only, that he came out?"
"Me, and my daughters."
"A boy of spirit," whispered the president to his silent comrade. "I seebut little harm in such a freak; 'twas imprudent, but then it was kind."
"Do you know that your son was intrusted with no commission from SirHenry Clinton, and that the visit to you was not merely a cloak toother designs?"
"How can I know it?" said Mr. Wharton, in alarm. "Would Sir Henryintrust me with such a business?"
"Know you anything of this pass?" exhibiting the paper that Dunwoodiehad retained when Wharton was taken.
"Nothing--upon my honor, nothing," cried the father, shrinking from thepaper as from contagion.
"On your oath?"
"Nothing."
"Have you other testimony? This does not avail you, Captain Wharton. Youhave been taken in a situation where your life is forfeited; the laborof proving your innocence rests with yourself. Take time to reflect,and be cool."
There was a frightful calmness in the manner of this judge that appalledthe prisoner. In the sympathy of Colonel Singleton, he could easily losesight of his danger; but the obdurate and collected air of the otherswas ominous of his fate. He continued silent, casting imploring glancestowards his friend. Dunwoodie understood the appeal, and offered himselfas a witness. He was sworn, and desired to relate what he knew. Hisstatement did not materially alter the case, and Dunwoodie felt that itcould not. To him personally but little was known, and that littlerather militated against the safety of Henry than otherwise. His accountwas listened to in silence, and the significant shake of the head thatwas made by the silent member spoke too plainly what effect ithad produced.
"Still you think that the prisoner had no other object than what he hasavowed?" said the president, when he had ended.
"None other, I will pledge my life," cried the major, with fervor.
"Will you swear it?" asked the immovable judge.
"How can I? God alone can tell the heart; but I have known thisgentleman from a boy; deceit never formed part of his character. He isabove it."
"You say that he escaped, and was retaken in open arms?" said thepresident.
"He was; nay, he received a wound in the combat. You see he yet moveshis arm with difficulty. Would he, think you, sir, have trusted himselfwhere he could fall again into our hands, unless conscious ofinnocence?"
"Would Andre have deserted a field of battle, Major Dunwoodie, had heencountered such an event, near Tarrytown?" asked his deliberateexaminer. "Is it not natural to youth to seek glory?"
"Do you call this glory?" exclaimed the major: "an ignominious death anda tarnished name."
"Major Dunwoodie," returned the other, still with inveterate gravity,"you have acted nobly; your duty has been arduous and severe, but it hasbeen faithfully and honorably discharged; ours must not be less so."
During the examination, the most intense interest prevailed among thehearers. With that kind of feeling which could not separate theprinciple from the cause, most of the auditors thought that if Dunwoodiefailed to move the hearts of Henry's judges, no other possessed thepower. Caesar thrust his misshapen form forward and his features, soexpressive of the concern he felt, and so different from the vacantcuriosity pictured in the countenance of the other blacks, caught theattention of the silent judge. For the first time he spoke:--
"Let that black be brought forward."
It was too late to retreat, and Caesar found himself confronted with arow of rebel officers, before he knew what was uppermost in histhoughts. The others yielded the examination to the one who suggestedit, and using all due deliberation, he proceeded accordingly.
"You know the prisoner?"
"I t'ink he ought," returned the black, in a manner as sententious asthat of his examiner.
"Did he give you the wig when he threw it aside?"
"I don't want 'em," grumbled Caesar; "got a berry good hair heself."
"Were you employed in carrying any letters or messages of any kind whileCaptain Wharton was in your master's house?"
"I do what a tell me," returned the black.
"But what did they tell you to do?"
"Sometime a one ting--sometime anoder."
"Enough," said Colonel Singleton, with dignity. "You have the nobleacknowledgment of a gentleman, what more can you obtain from thisslave?--Captain Wharton, you perceive the unfortunate impression againstyou. Have you other testimony to adduce?"
To Henry there now remained but little hope; his confidence in hissecurity was fast ebbing, but with an indefinite expectation ofassistance from the loveliness of his sister, he fixed an earnest gazeon the pallid features of Frances. She arose, and with a tottering stepmoved towards the judges; the paleness of her cheek continued but for amoment, and gave place to a flush of fire, and with a light but firmtread, she stood before them. Raising her hand to her polishedforehead, Frances threw aside her exuberant locks, and displayed apicture of beauty and innocence to their view that might have moved evensterner natures. The president shrouded his eyes for a moment, as if thewild eye and speaking countenance recalled the image of another. Themovement was transient, and recovering himself, with an earnestness thatbetrayed his secret wishes,--
"To you, then, your brother previously communicated his intention ofpaying your family a secret visit?"
"No!--no!" said Frances, pressing her hand on her brain, as if tocollect her thoughts; "he told me nothing--we knew not of the visituntil he arrived; but can it be necessary to explain to gallant men,that a child would incur hazard to meet his only parent, and that intimes like these, and in a situation like ours?"
"But was this the first time? Did he never even talk of doing sobefore?" inquired the colonel, leaning towards her withpaternal interest.
"Certainly--certainly," cried Frances, catching the expression of hisown benevolent countenance. "This is but the fourth of his visits."
"I knew it!" exclaimed
the veteran, rubbing his hands with delight. "Anadventurous, warm-hearted son--I warrant me, gentlemen, a fiery soldierin the field! In what disguises did he come?"
"In none, for none were then necessary; the royal troops covered thecountry, and gave him safe passage."
"And was this the first of his visits out of the uniform of hisregiment?" asked the colonel, in a suppressed voice, avoiding thepenetrating looks of his companions.
"Oh! the very first," exclaimed the eager girl. "His first offense, I doassure you, if offense it be."
"But you wrote him--you urged the visit; surely, young lady, you wishedto see your brother?" added the impatient colonel.
"That we wished it, and prayed for it,--oh, how fervently we prayed forit!--is true; but to have held communion with the royal army would haveendangered our father, and we dared not."
"Did he leave the house until taken, or had he intercourse with any outof your own dwelling?"
"With none--no one, excepting our neighbor, the peddler Birch."
"With whom!" exclaimed the colonel, turning pale, and shrinking as fromthe sting of an adder.
Dunwoodie groaned aloud, and striking his head with his hand, cried inpiercing tones, "He is lost!" and rushed from the apartment.
"But Harvey Birch," repeated Frances, gazing wildly at the door throughwhich her lover had disappeared.
"Harvey Birch!" echoed all the judges. The two immovable members of thecourt exchanged looks, and threw an inquisitive glance at the prisoner.
"To you, gentlemen, it can be no new intelligence to hear that HarveyBirch is suspected of favoring the royal cause," said Henry, againadvancing before the judges; "for he has already been condemned by yourtribunals to the fate that I now see awaits myself. I will thereforeexplain, that it was by his assistance I procured the disguise, andpassed your pickets; but to my dying moments, and with my dying breath,I will avow, that my intentions were as pure as the innocent beingbefore you."
"Captain Wharton," said the president, solemnly, "the enemies ofAmerican liberty have made mighty and subtle efforts to overthrow ourpower. A more dangerous man, for his means and education, is not rankedamong our foes than this peddler of Westchester. He is a spy--artful,delusive, and penetrating, beyond the abilities of any of his class. SirHenry could not do better than to associate him with the officer in hisnext attempt. He would have saved Andre. Indeed, young man, this is aconnection that may prove fatal to you!"
The honest indignation that beamed on the countenance of the agedwarrior was met by a look of perfect conviction on the part ofhis comrades.
"I have ruined him!" cried Frances, clasping her hands in terror. "Doyou desert us? then he is lost, indeed!"
"Forbear! lovely innocent, forbear!" said the colonel, with strongemotion; "you injure none, but distress us all."
"Is it then such a crime to possess natural affection?" said Franceswildly. "Would Washington--the noble, upright, impartial Washington,judge so harshly? Delay, till Washington can hear his tale."
"It is impossible," said the president, covering his eyes, as if to hideher beauty from his view.
"Impossible! oh! but for a week suspend your judgment. On my knees Ientreat you, as you will expect mercy yourself, when no human power canavail you, give him but a day."
"It is impossible," repeated the colonel, in a voice that was nearlychoked. "Our orders are peremptory, and too long delay has beengiven already."
He turned from the kneeling suppliant, but could not, or would not,extricate that hand that she grasped with frenzied fervor.
"Remand your prisoner," said one of the judges to the officer who hadthe charge of Henry. "Colonel Singleton, shall we withdraw?"
"Singleton! Singleton!" echoed Frances. "Then you are a father, and knowhow to pity a father's woes; you cannot, will not, wound a heart that isnow nearly crushed. Hear me, Colonel Singleton; as God will listen toyour dying prayers, hear me, and spare my brother!"
"Remove her," said the colonel, gently endeavoring to extricate hishand; but none appeared disposed to obey. Frances eagerly strove to readthe expression of his averted face, and resisted all his effortsto retire.
"Colonel Singleton! how lately was your own son in suffering and indanger! Under the roof of my father he was cherished-under my father'sroof he found shelter and protection. Oh! suppose that son the pride ofyour age, the solace and protection of your infant children, and thenpronounce my brother guilty, if you dare!"
"What right has Heath to make an executioner of me!" exclaimed theveteran fiercely, rising with a face flushed like fire, and every veinand artery swollen with suppressed emotion. "But I forget myself; come,gentlemen, let us mount, our painful duty must be done."
"Mount not! go not!" shrieked Frances. "Can you tear a son from hisparent--a brother from his sister, so coldly? Is this the cause I haveso ardently loved? Are these the men that I have been taught toreverence? But you relent, you do hear me, you will pity and forgive."
"Lead on, gentlemen," said the colonel, motioning towards the door, anderecting himself into an air of military grandeur, in the vain hope ofquieting his feelings.
"Lead not on, but hear me," cried Frances, grasping his handconvulsively. "Colonel Singleton, you are a father!--pity--mercy--mercyfor the son! mercy for the daughter! Yes--you had a daughter. On thisbosom she poured out her last breath; these hands closed her eyes; thesevery hands, that are now clasped in prayer, did those offices for herthat you condemn my poor, poor brother, to require."
One mighty emotion the veteran struggled with, and quelled; but with agroan that shook his whole frame. He even looked around in consciouspride at his victory; but a second burst of feeling conquered. His head,white with the frost of seventy winters, sank upon the shoulder of thefrantic suppliant. The sword that had been his companion in so manyfields of blood dropped from his nerveless hand, and as he cried, "MayGod bless you for the deed!" he wept aloud.
Long and violent was the indulgence that Colonel Singleton yielded tohis feelings. On recovering, he gave the senseless Frances into thearms of her aunt, and, turning with an air of fortitude to his comrades,he said,--
"Still, gentlemen, we have our duty as officers to discharge; ourfeelings as men may be indulged hereafter. What is your pleasure withthe prisoner?"
One of the judges placed in his hand a written sentence, that he hadprepared while the colonel was engaged with Frances, and declared it tobe the opinion of himself and his companion.
It briefly stated that Henry Wharton had been detected in passing thelines of the American army as a spy, and in disguise. That thereby,according to the laws of war, he was liable to suffer death, and thatthis court adjudged him to the penalty; recommending him to be executedby hanging, before nine o'clock on the following morning.
It was not usual to inflict capital punishments, even on the enemy,without referring the case to the commander in chief, for hisapprobation; or, in his absence, to the officer commanding for the timebeing. But, as Washington held his headquarters at New Windsor, on thewestern bank of the Hudson, there was sufficient time to receivehis answer.
"This is short notice," said the veteran, holding the pen in his hand,in a suspense that had no object; "not a day to fit one so youngfor heaven?"
"The royal officers gave Hale [Footnote: An American officer of thisname was detected within the British lines, in disguise, in search ofmilitary information. He was tried and executed, as stated in the text,as soon as the preparations could be made. It is said that he wasreproached under the gallows with dishonoring the rank he held by hisfate. 'What a death for an officer to die!' said one of his captors.'Gentlemen, any death is honorable when a man dies in a cause like thatof America,' was his answer. Andre was executed amid the tears of hisenemies; Hale died unpitied and with reproaches in his ears; and yet onewas the victim of ambition, and the other of devotion to his country.Posterity will do justice between them.] but an hour," returned hiscomrade; "we have granted the usual time. But Washington has the powerto extend it
, or to pardon."
"Then to Washington will I go," cried the colonel, returning the paperwith his signature; "and if the services of an old man like me, or thatbrave boy of mine, entitle me to his ear, I will yet save the youth."
So saying, he departed, full of his generous intentions in favor ofHenry Wharton.
The sentence of the court was communicated, with proper tenderness, tothe prisoner; and after giving a few necessary instructions to theofficer in command, and dispatching a courier to headquarters with theirreport, the remaining judges mounted, and rode to their own quarters,with the same unmoved exterior, but with the consciousness of the samedispassionate integrity, that they had maintained throughout the trial.