CHAPTER XVII.
CAPTAIN WHARTON'S TRIAL.
The following morning the cavalcade[99] dispersed. The woundeddiverged towards the river, with the intention of taking water atPeekskill, in order to be transported to the hospital of the Americanarmy above.
[Footnote 99: a procession of persons on horseback.]
The road taken by our party was not the one that communicates betweenthe two principal cities of the State, but was a retired andunfrequented pass, that to this hour is but little known, and which,entering the hills near the eastern boundary, emerges into the plainabove, many miles from the Hudson.
It would have been impossible for the tired steeds of Mr. Wharton todrag the heavy chariot up the lengthened and steep ascents which nowlay before them; and a pair of country horses was procured, with butlittle regard to their owner's wishes, by the two dragoons, who stillcontinued to accompany the party. With their assistance, Caesar wasenabled to advance, by slow and toilsome steps, into the bosom of thehills.
The day had been cloudy and cool, and thin fleecy clouds hungaround the horizon, often promising to disperse, but as frequentlydisappointing Frances in the hope of catching a parting beam fromthe setting sun. At length a solitary gleam struck the base of themountain on which she was gazing, and moved gracefully up its side,until, reaching the summit, it stood for a minute, forming a crownof glory to the sombre pile. With a feeling of awe at being thusunexpectedly admitted, as it were, into the secrets of that desertplace, Frances gazed intently, until, among the scattered trees andfantastic rocks, something like a rude structure was seen. It was low,and so obscured by the color of its materials, that but for its roof,and the glittering of a window, it must have escaped her notice. Whileyet lost in the astonishment created by discovering a habitation insuch a spot, on moving her eyes she perceived another object thatincreased her wonder. It apparently was a human figure, but ofsingular mould and unusual deformity. It stood on the edge of a rock,a little above the hut, and it was no difficult task for our heroineto fancy it was gazing at the vehicles that were ascending the side ofthe mountain beneath her. The distance, however, was too great for herto distinguish with precision. She continued to gaze at the mysteriousresidence, when the tones of a bugle rang through the glens andhollows, and were reechoed in every direction, and directly a party inthe well-known uniform of the Virginians came sweeping round the pointof a rock, and drew up at a short distance.
Dunwoodie dashed by the party of dragoons, threw himself from hischarger, and advanced to her side. His manner was earnest andinterested. In a few words he explained that he had been ordered up,with a party of Lawton's men, in the absence of the captain himself,to attend the trial of Henry, which was fixed for the morrow, andthat, anxious for their safety in the rude passes of the mountain, hehad ridden a mile or two in quest of the travellers. A short half-hourbrought them to the door of the farm-house which the care of Dunwoodiehad already prepared for their reception, and where Captain Whartonwas anxiously expecting their arrival.
The friends of Henry Wharton had placed so much reliance on hisinnocence, that they were unable to see the full danger of hissituation. The moment at length arrived, and the different actors inthe approaching investigation assembled. The judges, three in number,sat by themselves, clad in the vestments of their profession, andmaintaining a gravity worthy of the occasion and becoming their rank.In the centre was a man of advanced years, and whose whole exteriorbore the stamp of early and long-tried military habits. This was thepresident of the court; and Frances, after taking a hasty andunsatisfactory view of his associates, turned to his benevolentcountenance as to the harbinger[100] of mercy to her brother. Therewas a melting and subdued expression in the features of the veteran,that, contrasted with the rigid decency and composure of the others,could not fail to attract her notice. His associates were selectedfrom the Eastern troops, who held the fortresses of West Point[101]and the adjacent passes; they were men who had attained themeridian[102] of life, and the eye sought in vain the expression ofany passion or emotion on which it might seize as an indication ofhuman infirmity. In their demeanor there was a mild, but a grave,intellectual reserve.
[Footnote 100: messenger.]
[Footnote 101: a stronghold on the Hudson.]
[Footnote 102: middle age.]
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. Two of the judges sat in gravereserve, fixing their eyes on the object of their investigation; butthe president continued gazing round with uneasy, convulsive motionsof the muscles of the face, that indicated a restlessness foreign tohis years and duty. The silence, and the expectation in every eye, atlength struck him, and making an effort to collect himself, he spoke,in the tone of one used to authority.
"Bring forth the prisoner," he said, with a wave of the hand.
Frances turned for a moment, in grateful emotion, as the deep andperturbed breathings of Dunwoodie reached her ears; but her brotheragain concentrated all her interest in one feeling of intense care. Inthe background were arranged the inmates of the family who owned thedwelling, and behind them, again, was a row of shining faces ofebony, glistening with pleased wonder. Among these was the fadedlustre of Caesar Thompson's countenance.
"You are said," continued the president, "to be Henry Wharton, acaptain in his Britannic Majesty's Sixtieth regiment of foot."
"I am."
"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 wasso plain, the facts so limited, the proof so obvious, and the penaltyso well established, that escape seemed impossible. But Henry repliedwith earnest grace:
"That I passed your pickets in disguise is true; but----"
"Peace!" interrupted the president; "the usages of war are sternenough in themselves; you need not aid them in your own condemnation."
"The prisoner can retract that declaration, if he please," remarkedanother judge. "His confession, if taken, goes fully to prove thecharge."
"I retract nothing that is true," said Henry, proudly.
"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 face.
"I am the son of this aged man before you," continued Henry. "It wasto visit him that I encountered the danger. Besides, the country belowis seldom held by your troops, and its very name implies a right toeither party to move at pleasure over its territory."
"Its name as neutral ground is unauthorized by law; it is anappellation[103] that originates with the condition of the country.But wherever an army goes, it carries its rights along, and the firstis the ability to protect itself."
[Footnote 103: name.]
"I am no casuist,[104] sir," returned the youth; "but I feel that myfather is entitled to my affection, and I would encounter greaterrisks to prove it to him in his old age."
[Footnote 104: one who studies cases of conscience.]
"A very commendable spirit," cried the veteran. "Come, gentlemen, thisbusiness brightens. I confess, at first it was very bad, but no mancan censure him for desiring to see his parent."
"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 the immovable judge, "we may be able to saveyou. It would be well, sir, to examine further into this business."
"Certainly," said the presiden
t, 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.
"He is my only son."
"And what do you know of his visit to your house on the twenty-ninthday of October 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 Sixtieth."
"To see his sisters, too!" said the president, with great emotion."Have you 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 great-coat of coarse materials?" inquired theofficer, referring to a paper that contained the charges.
"There was an overcoat."
"And you think 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. "Isee but little harm in such a freak; 'twas imprudent, but then it waskind."
"Do you know that your son was intrusted with no commission from SirHenry Clinton, and that his visit to you was not merely a cloak toother designs?"
"How can I know it?" said Mr. Wharton, in alarm. "Would Sir Henrytrust me with such 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 fromthe paper as from contagion.[105]
[Footnote 105: communication of disease by contact.]
"On your oath?"
"Nothing."
"Have you other testimony? This does not avail you, Captain Wharton.You have been taken in a situation where your life is forfeited. Thelabor of proving your innocence rests with yourself. Take time toreflect, and be cool."
There was a frightful calmness in the manner of this judge thatappalled the prisoner. In the sympathy of Colonel Singleton, he couldeasily lose sight of his danger; but the obdurate and collected air ofthe others was ominous of his fate. He continued silent, castingimploring glances towards his friends.
Dunwoodie understood the appeal, and offered himself as a witness. Hewas sworn, and desired to relate what he knew. His statement did notmaterially alter the case, and Dunwoodie felt that it could not. Tohim personally but little was known, and that little rather militatedagainst the safety of Henry than otherwise. His account was listenedto in silence, and the significant shake of the head that was made bythe silent member too plainly told what effect it had made.
"Still you think that the prisoner had no other object than what hehas avowed?" said the president, when he had ended.
"None other, I will pledge my life," cried the major.
"Will you swear it?" asked the immovable judge.
"How can I? God alone can see 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 taken in open arms?" said thepresident.
"He was; nay, he received a wound in the combat."
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 totteringstep, moved towards the judges; the paleness of her cheek continuedbut for a moment, and gave place to a flush of fire, and with a lightbut firm tread she stood before them.
"To you, then, your brother previously communicated his intention ofpaying your family a secret visit?"
"No, no!" said Frances, pressing her hand to her head, 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 menthat 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 with paternalinterest.
"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;"an adventurous, warm-hearted son--I warrant me, gentlemen--a fierysoldier in 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 offence, Ido assure you, if offence it be."
"But you wrote him--you urged the visit; surely, young lady, youwished to see your brother?" added the impatient colonel.
"That we wished for it, and prayed for it--oh, how fervently we prayedfor it!--is true; but to have 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 anyout of your own dwelling?"
"With no one excepting our neighbor, the peddler Birch."
"With whom?" exclaimed the colonel, turning pale, and shrinking asfrom the sting of an adder.
Dunwoodie groaned aloud, and, striking his head with his hand, criedout in piercing tones, "He is lost!" and rushed from the apartment.
"But Harvey Birch," repeated Frances, gazing wildly at the doorthrough which her lover had disappeared.
"Harvey Birch!" echoed all the judges. The two immovable members ofthe court exchanged looks, and threw an inquisitive glance at theprisoner.
"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 byyour tribunals to the fate that I see now awaits myself. I willtherefore explain that it was by his assistance I procured thedisguise and passed your pickets; but to my dying moments and with mydying breath I will avow that my intentions were as pure as theinnocent beings before 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 notranked among our foes than this peddler of Westchester. He is aspy--artful, delusive, and penetrating beyond the abilities of hisclass. Indeed, young man, this is a connection that may prove fatal toyou."
The honest indignation that beamed on the countenance of the agedwarrior was met by a look of perfect conviction on the part of hiscomrades.
"I have ruined him!" cried Frances, clasping her hands in terror.
"Gentlemen, what is your pleasure?" asked the president.
One of the judges placed in his hand a written sentence, and declaredit to be 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 sufferdeath, and that this court adjudge him to the penalty, recommendinghim to be executed, by hanging, before nine o'clock on the followingmorning.
"This is short notice," said the veteran, holding the pen in hishand, in a suspense that had no object; "not a day to fit one so youngfor heaven."
"The royal officers gave Hale[106] but an hour," returned his comrade;"we have granted the usual time. But Washington has the power toextend it, or to pardon."
[Footnote 106: an American offi
cer who was detected within the British lines in disguise.]
"Then to Washington will I go," cried the colonel, returning the paperwith his signature; "and if the services of an old man like me, orthat brave boy of mine, entitle me to his ear, I will yet save theyouth."
So saying, he departed, full of the generous intentions in favor ofHenry Wharton.