by L. E. Waters
He yells at them, “Get back to work.” They leave the room in a hurry.
He stands there in silence as I say, “Bravo, Lieutenant!” and cheerfully clap. “Triple agent?”
Smith sits across from me and nods, holding my eyes carefully.
“Peggy, too?” I take a deep breath, not wanting to hear the answer.
He shakes his head, looks up to the ceiling, and sighs. “No, not Peggy.”
Oh good, loyal Peggy.
My rage sets its sights on delivering the greatest insult. “Oh, then I shouldn’t take any of your betrayal personally, since you are clearly devoid of morals and all honor.”
Smith stares back, accepting what I say with his jaw clenched.
“Pretending to love her—”
He slams his hands on the desk and yells, “I love her! I loved her the first moment I saw her. I did all of this for her!”
“For her?” I laugh.
He now quiets in rage, looks out my one small window and then unclenches his jaw. He speaks slowly, enunciating every word. “This was never supposed to happen this way. Things did not go as planned.”
“How else could it have ended up? You have handed me over, on a silver platter and with great humiliation, directly into rebel arms. Snaring me as a spy. Primed for the gibbet. I can only pray for Peggy that they have fled—”
He stands, pounding on the table. “Arnold has fled, you arse! That is the problem!”
“I don’t understand.”
He sinks back in the chair. “I set you up to be caught and knew you’d protect Arnold. After I left you, I made my way back to gather troops to detain Arnold for Washington’s arrival. But the British sent out patrols, looking for you at the crossing on Croton. I had to wait out three days in a farmhouse. I never dreamed Jameson would be such a fool to send out a warning to Arnold and, as luck would have it, it reached him before the letter got to Washington—though it was twice the distance!”
He stares directly into my eyes. “I rode all day and night to Garrison, hoping to catch Arnold, only to arrive at his headquarters with a dozen guards and to receive word that Arnold’s longboat was halfway across to the Vulture, back in the same place it had dropped you off, with the flag of truce waving high.” He flips his hands high over his head in disgusted sarcasm.
“Had I only stayed put—” I say out loud, to myself.
“I knew if Arnold had been caught, the sensation of your capture would have been forgotten as the rebel rage focused on Arnold’s fat neck—”
“But now they only have my neck.”
“I would never have set you up had I not been assured I would have Arnold the way I wanted him.”
“Why wait then? You could have had guards arrive with everything you needed at the house, and I would have still been in my uniform.”
“I wanted him to think he’d gotten away with everything.” He throws one arm in the air with a gesture of futilely. “I wanted to be the one who opened the door with the troops behind me.” The other arm rises, palm open and empty. “And most of all, I didn’t want Peggy there to witness it all.”
I understood that.
He puts his head in his hands. “The moment she looked into my eyes I knew I had to marry her. I didn’t want another man to dance with her or hold her in their arms. Her father would have never allowed the son of a farmer—”
“Farmer? I thought you were the son of a ship captain?”
“No, you fool,” He stares out from between his fingers. “I met her in the country. I was carrying the milk to her estate when I met her. Both my brothers had already joined the local militia. As I worked my way up in the Culpepper spy ring, they picked that estate for me, on the Hudson near Arnold, to lure him.”
“So you were thinking you’d have Peggy help you deal a blow to Britain’s espionage, but how would that win you Peggy?”
He pulls his hat off and digs his hands through his dark, wavy hair. “I thought she’d accept everything once Arnold was done away with and she saw that what I did was to end the war and bring everything back to peace. I would be greatly rewarded for saving the nation, and I could give her the life she always wanted.”
“But she would be known infamously as Arnold’s wife.”
“I had already arranged new identities for her and her son. People would think she’d fled to Britain. You would have been traded back to Britain. Everything would have worked out. But now everything has gone wrong!” He kicks over a chair, causing the guards to open the door to check on the noise. Seeing it was only the lieutenant causing it, they quickly close it again. “Peggy was there when I showed up for Arnold. She came running out to me, but when she saw the guards behind me, it all hit her. She said nothing and ran into the house, locking herself in the bedroom. I couldn’t talk to her with the guards around since I had to hide her involvement with everything. When Washington arrived only moments later, I attested to her innocence in the whole matter. So she will be safe.”
I laugh. “Safe? She is the wife of a traitor who has escaped and left her and his children to face the Americans’ wrath! How can you offer her any comfort that she is safe?” Deep sorrow darkens the indigo of his pained eyes. “She can never be with you now.”
Smith clears the heaviness from his throat. “That is why I am here.”
“Oh, so it is not to apologize? You should at least apologize for your choice of such ridiculous captors.” I laugh, causing him to crack a brief, stubborn smile.
“That, and the fact that I haven’t given up all hope. We can still try to get Clinton to hand Arnold over in your exchange. We can still fix everything.” He gets up, replaces his hat, and bows to me on his way out. “I’ll do what I can, Limey.”
Chapter 23
I’m again moved, this time near the Continental Army headquarters. I’m given a shed with an ample living room and tiny bedroom under a sloped roof. From the windows I watch a picturesque town that reminds me of England, with its quaint, small-steepled church in the center. Religion means so much more to me now that I suddenly near death’s threshold.
I sit down and write:
MY HIDING PLACE
Hail, sovereign love, which first began
The scheme to rescue fallen man!
Hail, matchless, free, eternal grace,
Which gave my soul a Hiding Place!
Against the God who built the sky
I fought with hands uplifted high—
Despised the mention of His grace,
Too proud to seek a Hiding Place.
Enwrapt in thick Egyptian night,
And fond of darkness more than light,
Madly I ran the sinful race,
Secure—without a Hiding Place!
But thus the eternal counsel ran:
Almighty love, arrest that man!
I felt the arrows of distress,
And found I had no Hiding Place.
Indignant Justice stood in view;
To Sinai’s fiery mount I flew;
But Justice cried with frowning face,
This mountain is no Hiding Place!
Ere long a heavenly voice I heard,
And mercy’s angel soon appeared:
He led me, with a beaming face,
To Jesus as a Hiding Place.
On Him almighty vengeance fell,
Which must have sunk a world to hell!
He bore it for a sinful race,
And thus became our Hiding Place.
Should sevenfold storms of thunder roll,
And shake this globe from pole to pole,
No thunderbolt shall daunt my face,
For Jesus is my Hiding Place.
A few more setting suns at most
Shall land me on that glorious coast,
Where I shall sing the song of grace,
And see my glorious Hiding Place!
Staring out at the salvation of the old Dutch church, I jump at the sound of cannon fire accompanied with cheers and know that it’s t
he big shot a town fires off to welcome a high-ranking officer. Washington has arrived and will most likely be coming to speak to me at any moment.
I can’t believe I’m to speak with the man who was the target of so many of our jokes and curses. Minutes later, there is a knock at the door and in steps a much larger and older man than I imagined. He stands at such a great height he’s forced to bow under the lintel, and his loud boots clunk loudly on the scratched-up floor. Following right behind him is a powerful, stout colored man, exceptionally well dressed for a slave, with a bright, red turban atop his regal head. He stands behind Washington when the General sits across from me. It appears as though the chair will buckle under his weight. He removes his gold-fringed tricorn hat and hands it to his man. “Thank you, Billy Lee.”
Billy steps back into the corner, his eyes obediently to the floor, revealing a slightly purple birthmark on his dark right eyelid. I’m surprised that Washington has his hair powdered and tied back as simply as I have mine. His color is immensely pale and, in the light from the window, I can see deep pockmarks that make a once handsome face look ragged. His wide-set, dark eyes seem haggard as he brings his hand up touch the mole beside his eye.
His jaw is somewhat out of sorts, and once he begins to talk, I see a strange jumble and assortment of borrowed teeth within his mouth. “I have heard so much about this gentleman of such great talents he has become the breath of Sir Henry Clinton, the very soul of the British army.”
“Your Excellency.” I bow my head, thinking I’m a great hypocrite for once calling this same man Major Washington. “Any word from General Clinton, sir?”
He nods and pulls out a letter they intercepted.
The general has escaped to us, but we have lost—how shall I tell it to you—poor André. I am distressed beyond words to describe. I have nothing to reproach myself with. I am forced to honor General Arnold’s protection, though I like nothing better than to hang the greedy scoundrel, so as not to discourage more rebel desertions. With my hands tied, I have rounded up twenty American noncombatants on the charge of espionage that I am more than happy to negotiate for Major André’s liberation.
SHC
He leans forward, and I try my best not to be distracted with attempting to guess what species donated his poorly fitted teeth. “Major André, I have suffered from malaria, smallpox, pleurisy and dysentery, all before I was thirty. On my way back from French Fort le Boeuf, I fell off my raft into an icy river and nearly drowned.” I’m wondering why he is saying all this. “Later, in the same trip, I was shot at by an Indian standing less than fifty feet away, who obviously missed. During Braddock’s Defeat in 1755, four bullets punctured my coat and two horses were shot out from under me.”
I could not pretend to follow him or hide how I wished one of those bullets had found him.
He grins and slowly says, “And I’ll be damned if this almost got me. Unfortunately, for King George and yourself, I’m a lucky devil.” He pushes back in his chair.
I can’t restrain my ego and point to Billy. “For someone who believes in the liberties of all men, yet fails to see the glaring hypocrisy standing right behind him.”
Billy Lee’s bright eyes flash to mine for an intimate instant then dart back to their respectful spot on the ground. Washington appears thrown off guard, then says, in solemn tone, “Yes, I know. It is the very thought that has been keeping me awake at night recently.”
I’m surprised he accepts my insult so well and know not what to say.
He avoids the silence by changing the subject. “I have always said to ‘Guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism,’”—he laughs—“and there Arnold was, right under my wing. I had intelligence that a high-ranking officer was about to defect but had no idea who it was. I could not let myself believe it was Arnold.”
“I apologize for my involvement in your pain, sir, but what are your thoughts concerning my welfare?”
He looks at me and releases his breath quickly. “Fortunately, I have little decision to make here. You will be tried, and if Arnold is protected, I am sorry to say, things do not look good for you.”
This is no surprise to me, and I accept it with a nod. “Can you please tell me of Mrs. Arnold’s wellbeing?”
Concern washes over Washington. “Mrs. Arnold has been locked away for days, racked with terrible and unyielding fits. Slowly, she emerged only to dissolve at the very sight of me, accusing that I had come to kill her child. We have all seen to her care, especially the soldiers who have all fallen in love with her upon sight. She is being sent back to her father as soon as she is fit enough to travel.”
Hoping she is just using her tantrums to play on everyone’s best sympathies, yet knowing that much of her transferred grief is real, I say, “Sir, please be sure to encourage great sympathy for her. She is the greatest victim of this all.”
He stands up, and Billy is there to hand him his hat in the instant. Washington turns to me. “I am not a devout man, but I fear in your case praying might not be a waste of time.”
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
During my quick trial, I try to keep up a bold front. The guards and officers around me watch in wonderment as I remain jovial. One morning, I’m asked to come for sentencing and those around me sag, pathetically glum. Happy that I’m allowed out, I strut down the sweet lane, past the Dutch church, to the courthouse.
General officers convene inside and one asks, “Major John André, have you anything to say?”
The entire, filled courthouse holds its breath to hear my answer.
“You have my confession, your honor.”
They seem surprised. “You have nothing to plead?”
“Can I plea for a trial by a court of ladies?”
The normally serious board breaks into muffled laughter. I wait until they regain themselves and finish, “I will allow the evidence to operate within the board.”
They read on reluctantly, “Major André, Adjutant General of the British Army, ought to be considered a spy from the enemy, and that, agreeable to the law and usage of nations, it is their opinion he ought to suffer death.”
I clear my thickened throat. “I’d like to thank the board for every mark of indulgence and not pressing me to answer questions that would embarrass my feelings. If I have ever felt any hostility toward Americans, my present experience has obliterated them.”
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
I hear the familiar loud boots down the walkway outside my cabin as I draw a self-portrait from my reflection in the mirror. Washington again ducks in, with his faithful man, but this time does not sit down. “I regret I have come to inform you that your execution will take place tomorrow at five o’clock p.m.”
Something in his pained expression unhinges me unexpectedly, and I break down. “I foresee my fate, and, though I pretend not to play the hero or to be indifferent about life, yet I am reconciled to whatever may happen, conscious that misfortune, not guilt, has brought it upon me. There is only one thing that disturbs my tranquility.”
He nods sympathetically and waits for me to compose myself again.
I swallow my tears and finish, “Sir Henry Clinton has been too good to me. I would not for the world leave a sting in his mind that should embitter his future days.”
“Permission granted to write him, Major,” Washington says as he quickly motions for his slave to open the briefcase he carries with him. Giving me the tools I need, I’m surprised to see him wait there as I write.
I laugh. “I guess time is of the essence.”
He nods, and I write:
Your Excellency,
Is doubtless already apprised of the manner in which I was taken and possibly of the serious light in which my conduct is considered and the rigorous determination that is impending. I wish to remove from your breast any suspicion that I could imagine I was bound by Your Excellency’s ordered to expose myself to what has happened. The events of my coming within an enemy’s p
osts and of changing my dress, which led me to my present situation, were contrary to my own intentions, as they were to your orders, and the circuitous route which I took to return was imposed without alternative upon me.
I am perfectly tranquil within my mind, and prepared for any fate to which an honest zeal for my King’s service may have devoted me. In addressing myself to Your Excellency on this occasion, the force of all my obligations to you, and of the attachment and gratitude I bear you, occurs to me. With all the warmth of my heart, I give you thanks for Your Excellency’s profuse kindness to me, and I send you the most earnest wishes for your welfare which a faithful, affectionate, and respectful attendant can frame.
I have a mother and three sisters to whom the value of my commission would be an object, as the loss of Grenada has much affected their income; it is needless to be more explicit on this subject; I am persuaded of Your Excellency’s goodness.
Your loyal man of ability,
Major André
I fold up the letter and hand it to him, which he reads right in front of me, and I might have even seen a glimmer in his eye. He sucks his sniffles in quickly, regaining his composure. “Policy requires a sacrifice—”
I nod. “No need, I understand.”
“I have ordered thousands of men to die for an ideal. Generals, officers, militiamen, and peasants are all shook by this most heinous betrayal. If I were to excuse you from punishment, one man for all of those thousands, I would fear the whole cause would be lost, however charming that one life would be.” He smiles at this, causing me to smile back. “I fear I am betwixt the devil and the deep blue sea here.”
“You do not need to explain your actions to me, Your Excellency,” I say, feeling no hypocrisy this time.
“However, I see, all who have the pleasure to have known you, shall all lament it.”
As he goes to leave, I ask, “Sympathy toward a soldier will surely induce Your Excellency and a military tribunal to adapt the mode of my death to the feelings of a man of honor.” I attempt to change his mind with my most dashing smile.