The Boy Spies of Philadelphia
"Jacob means well at heart."
"I believe you, lad – that is to say, he did up to last night, but that little affair seems to have spoiled him entirely."
"He will soon get over it, and by the time we come back, if we ever do, he will be in a fair way to become as good a soldier as Seth appears to be."
"Don't make the mistake, lad, of questioning whether we are ever coming back. I grant you the work we're on is dangerous; but the chances of our being captured are not as great as the possibility of our being killed if we were going into battle. To anticipate danger is, to my mind, a good bit like inviting it, and the man who expects to be shot has given himself a deal of unnecessary worriment, if it so chances he comes out of the engagement unscratched. If, when we get to work, you are constantly thinking your arrest as a spy is certain to happen, you won't be so keen on the scent of news as you would if the venture was, to your mind nothing more than a pleasant excursion."
"I suppose you think I am frightened. Well, I am: but that won't interfere with my doing all you require."
"I don't believe it will, lad. You have got the right kind of pluck, and I am counting on your distinguishing yourself between now and the time the Britishers leave Philadelphia. Here are our horses, and this time you are riding a nag belonging to the Colonies; not one you have been obliged to impress."
"I thought we would be forced to walk!"
"We shall ride as far as it is safe to do so, and stop at the farm where I am supposed to be working. The man who owns it is a true friend to the cause, and through him I am enabled to do very much more than would otherwise be possible, for he supplies me with all the vegetables I can sell. It isn't such a bad idea for him either, for he gets the money at the same time he is serving his country, and the market-stoppers never trouble me."
"What do you intend I shall do in town?"
"First of all, simply go home, providing we arrive there so early in the morning that you can get in without being seen. If your mother reports that the Britishers have been looking for you, leave town immediately, and make your way back to the farm without giving any heed to me. In such case I shall be deprived of your services, for we cannot keep you here if you are under suspicion. Should it chance, however, as I anticipate, that you are not known to have done more than aid Seth Graydon's escape, you will simply loiter around the city as you have been doing, meeting me in the market-place when you have anything to report, and, in case of important news, such as you learned last night, make your way to the farm at the earliest possible moment."
"You spoke to Seth of the chance that I might see his mother?"
"Yes, there is no reason why you should not go there, if matters are as I suppose. In fact, Enoch, you will do exactly as you have been doing, and with the assurance that I shall be on the alert in case any danger threatens."
Greene spoke of the duties to be performed in such a matter-of-fact tone, treating the business as if it was nothing out of the ordinary, that long before they arrived at the place where the horses were to be left all sense of peril which had hung over Enoch was dispelled, and he felt confident of being able to successfully perform the work required of him.
Not until nightfall was the first stage of the journey ended, when the two partook of an appetizing meal, rested an hour, and then set their faces cityward, each carrying on his back a small assortment of vegetables.
"We shall be there a good while before morning," Enoch suggested when the long tramp was begun.
"I count on arriving shortly after midnight."
"But you can't go to the market-place until sunrise."
"Neither do I want to do so, my boy. I shall have an excuse for loitering around town, and you may rest assured I don't waste my time during the hours of apparent idleness."
"I should think the Britishers would be suspicious of your getting into town at midnight."
"Bless you, lad, I've done the same thing for the past three months, and been stopped by the patrol so many times that now they all know me. It no longer excites surprise because I am so particularly attentive to my business. My explanation is that I get a better price for the marketing if I am first upon the ground."
As the journey progressed the miles seemed to Enoch to have doubled in length, and the burden on his back increased tenfold in weight; but he toiled manfully forward, repressing, so far as possible, every evidence of fatigue lest the spy should think him one easily discouraged.
As they neared their destination there was less inclination for conversation, and when half an hour had passed in silence Greene said in a cheery tone:
"Your friend Seth, with all his marching and counter-marching, shouldering and carrying arms, isn't forced to work as hard as you have been doing this night, lad."
"But I am not grumbling."
"I am well aware of that, my boy, and proud of the fact, for it shows I wasn't mistaken in my estimate of you. I know you are tired, though, for I am, and I have been over this road in the same fashion nigh on to a hundred times. It is the hardest kind of hard work; but there's a big satisfaction in doing it, for we know that it insures our safety when we are among the Britishers."
"Suppose you should meet any of the enemy who had seen me when I was in jail with Jacob? Wouldn't it cast suspicion on you?"
"Not a bit of it, lad, for I am ready in case that happens, and it wouldn't be strange if something of the kind should occur. Here is the story: You found it necessary to go to work in order to help support your mother, because in these days I don't fancy she has as many scholars, either in French or dancing, as a month ago, when times even with the enemy were more prosperous. I have hired you to help me bring in my goods."
"But doesn't it seem strange that you shouldn't come in with a wagon?"
"Not a bit of it, and for this reason: The Americans might seize my horse, and pay for it with an order on Congress, or the British might do the same thing and give me English gold. In either case I should be the loser, if I was really what I represent myself, for horses can't be purchased readily even though one is willing to pay a big price, and that fact is well known. Only those farmers living near the town, and who are assured of General Howe's protection because of their Tory sentiments, venture with their beasts where it is so easy to lose them."
It was half an hour past midnight when they had arrived opposite the Carpenter mansion, and there, to Enoch's alarm, they were halted by a patrol.
"It's only me, cap'n," Greene said when the command to halt was given.
"You still believe in the luck of being first at the market-place, Daniel," the sergeant in command of the squad said with a laugh.
"And it is luck, cap'n. I haven't missed of sellin' all I've brought a single day since you Britishers come here."
"And you think that wouldn't be the case if some one got in ahead of you?"
"It mightn't be."
"But there are plenty who don't arrive until daylight, and yet sell all their wares."
"I allow that's a fact, cap'n dear; but who gets the best price? The early bird like me what can afford to haggle for an extra sixpence, or them as have only time enough to sell out and get home before dark?"
"There may be some truth in that, my man; you appear to be a rare one for driving bargains. But who is this with you?"
"A city-bred lad what has found out at last that he's got a livin' to earn. He's the son of the Widow Ball on Letitia Street – she's an old customer of mine. I sold her enough potatoes for winter early in the fall, and got the money before I brought 'em in."
"You are not wise in your choice of an assistant, Daniel," the sergeant said in an admonitory tone. "Young Ball isn't looked upon as an honest lad."
"What do you mean by that?" and the alleged farmer gave evidence of the liveliest alarm. "His mother told me he wouldn't take a pin's worth that didn't belong to him."
"All of which may be true; but certain it is that he has been suspected of having an affection for the rebels, and it isn't many days since he came out of jail, where he was held on suspicion of having aided a spy to escape."
"Oh, is that all you've got agin him? I allowed from the way you began it was something serious."
"And don't you call acting the rebel a serious matter?"
"Not in a boy like him, cap'n. It's a way all young chaps have. They think it's a sign of smartness to side with the under dog in the fight; but after a few hard knocks that is thumped out of 'em, an' this one is as loyal to the king as I am."
"It won't do any harm to keep your eye on him, at all events, Daniel, for if he should indulge in more disagreeable practices he might get not only himself, but you, into trouble."
"I reckon hard work will take all that out of him, and after he's tramped in here a dozen times he'll be glad to stay at home instead of cavorting 'round with the rebels, though I should be the last to say anything agin 'em."
"What do you mean by that?" the sergeant asked sternly.
"Why, ain't they doing me a mighty good turn, cap'n? If it wasn't for them all you Britishers wouldn't be here, and I should have to take less than half-price for my truck, and trust the biggest part out at that."
"Oh, I see," the sergeant replied laughingly as he ordered his men to move on. "It's the pounds, shillings and pence that touch you more deeply than anything else. Good-night to you, Daniel. Don't charge more than three prices for your truck, and see to it that your assistant behaves himself."
"It is evident there has been no very great hue and cry over you and Jacob since yesterday afternoon," Greene said in a whisper as the patrol passed on in advance, "otherwise the sergeant would have known it. There's nothing now to prevent our carrying out the plan as I had allowed. Keep your eyes open, lad, and don't stay in the house a single minute after daylight."
CHAPTER XI.
A RECOGNITION
Enoch soon learned that the most difficult task which confronted him in his new line of work was to persuade his mother he was not exposed to any more danger than he would be on the battlefield.
She, remembering Seth's capture and narrow escape from the scaffold, insisted her son should refuse to assist Greene the spy in any way. She was willing for Enoch to enlist; but objected most strenuously to his doing that which, if discovered, would doom him to a disgraceful death.
During the first two hours spent at home the boy used every argument to convince her he would not be in any greater danger than he had been since his release from jail, and not until he had begged she would consent to his carrying on the work "because he had promised, and would be ashamed to go back to camp with the excuse that his mother would not allow him to do anything of the kind," did she give an unwilling consent to the proposition.
"I shall live in constant terror of hearing that you have been arrested and sentenced to be hanged," she said finally; "but will try to hide such fears because you have given your word to cease playing the spy as soon as you can honorably leave the work and enter the army."
Enoch was more than willing to agree to this; he preferred to serve his country in any other way than that which he had just begun, and would welcome the time when he could stand boldly before his friends and acquaintances as a Continental soldier.
Agreeably to the promise made Greene, he was on the street as soon as daylight, and during the entire day lounged around the city, listening eagerly for scraps of important conversation whenever he passed a group of men; but hearing nothing which might benefit his friends.
Late in the afternoon he succeeded in gaining an interview with Seth's mother, and, by approaching the house from the rear, had been able to gain access to the premises without being seen by any one save her.
As a matter of course she was greatly rejoiced at learning that her son was safe and happy, but during the past few weeks she was not unduly anxious concerning him, for Lord Gordon assured her that since the boy had not been brought back to Philadelphia he was unquestionably with the Continental army.
"It hardly seems as if Lord Gordon was an enemy of ours," the good woman said when she had finished telling Enoch of that gentleman's kindness. "He has acted the part of a true friend, and although he refuses to admit that he had any share in Seth's escape, I am positive you and Jacob could not have succeeded but for him."
"He's a gentleman all the way through, that's what he is!" Enoch replied emphatically, "and I only wish we might have a chance to pay him for what he has done."
It was not safe to prolong the interview lest some of Mrs. Graydon's boarders should see the visitor and suspect he had just come from Valley Forge, therefore the boy left the house immediately his budget of news had been unfolded.
During the week which followed this visit Enoch worked industriously and conscientiously, spending his entire time on the streets, but without learning anything of importance.
Just before daybreak each morning he went to the market-place, where he was certain of meeting Greene, but not once had he anything to communicate.
"It seems as if I was wasting my time here," he said despondently on the morning of the eighth day when he and the spy were sheltered alike from the rain that was falling steadily and the observation of the enemy's patrols, through having sought shelter in a shed near the market-place. "I walk around all the time; but hear nothing except what it is possible the peace commissioners may accomplish when they arrive."
"It isn't to be expected you can bring in valuable news when everything is as quiet as appears now."
"Yet I might be of service in the army."
"No more than you are here. Except for the fact that they are drilled each day, Seth and Jacob are as idle as you."
"Has Jacob enlisted?"
"Yes; he could not hold out longer against his father's commands. Old Chris was ashamed because his son did not appear eager to enter the army, and declared that the boy should not leave the encampment, save as a soldier. Jacob tried twice to run away, but was stopped by the guard, and when the last failure was reported to the old baker he declared the boy must earn his livelihood in some way, so set him to work in the bakery. That was not at all to Master Ludwick's liking, and twenty-four hours later he was in the same company with Seth. I now make it a point never to visit camp without reporting to them as to your safety."
"Of course they know I am doing nothing."
"They know, as do all your friends and acquaintances, that you are here in a post of danger, on the alert for whatever may chance to occur."
"But there doesn't seem to be a likelihood anything of importance will happen. Since Sir Henry Clinton has taken Howe's place as commander of the army, it appears as if his plan was to remain idle, contenting himself with depriving us of our capital."
"His inaction is but the lull before the storm. General Washington feels so positive some decided movement is planned for the near future that all the troops at Valley Forge are ready to act at a moment's notice, and it is from you and I, as well as other friends of the cause here, that he expects to receive information which will enable him to checkmate the enemy. Don't grow despondent because you accomplish nothing great at once; but remember that the longer matters thus remain apparently stationary the nearer we are to a crisis."
This conversation served to cheer Enoch wonderfully, and as the days went by his mother was more reconciled to the part he was playing, although she reminded him daily of the promise to give up his task as a spy at the first good opportunity.
On the fourth of June, the king's birthday, Enoch saw the peace commissioners enter the city, received with courtesy by Sir Henry Clinton and his army, but neither the boy nor any true-minded American believed they would accomplish anything after General Washington had pronounced so decidedly against treating with the king on other terms than that of independence for the colonies.
So far as Enoch could learn, the commissioners did nothing save allow themselves to be entertained by the officers and Tory families. Congress refused to receive them until after the "hostile fleets and armies had been withdrawn, or the independence of the United States acknowledged," and, so far as advancing the king's cause was concerned, they might as well have remained at home.
Another week passed in what to Enoch seemed like idleness, and then Greene electrified him by announcing:
"Within a few days we shall see stirring times, and you will have no further cause to complain that you are doing nothing."
"What have you heard?"
"Nothing; but I have noticed that preparations are being quietly made for a general move – "
"I can't see that there has been any change."
"Nothing to particularly attract attention, I'll admit; yet it is a fact that the troops are nearly ready to evacuate the city, or make a forced march to Valley Forge for the purpose of attacking our camp."
"Is it possible General Clinton would do that?"
"It is possible, but not probable. My idea is that the Britishers will leave this city bag and baggage before we're many days older."
"I don't understand why they should."
"It is feared by the enemy that General Washington may strike a blow at New York, and Clinton's troops are needed there to prevent a possible disaster. Then again they are accomplishing nothing here, and the British government don't relish the idea of paying twelve or fifteen thousand men for holding a town which is of no real benefit, save as a loafing-place for the officers."
"If they evacuate this city will they be allowed to go away without being molested?"
"I think we can trust General Washington to take care of them, and when you see the redcoats start you can be mighty certain a battle ain't far off."
"And I won't be in it!" Enoch exclaimed mournfully. "Seth and Jacob will play the part of soldiers, while I hang around here as if I was afraid."
"I promise faithfully that you shall be in the thick of any scrimmage that comes, so don't let such thoughts worry you. Have patience a few days longer, and keep your eyes open wider than usual."
"Is there anything in particular to be done?"
"Loiter around the City Tavern as much as possible. The officers may give their friends an idea of what is going to happen, and you stand a good chance of overhearing the gossip. The lightest hint now from a prominent Tory will have a big meaning."
From this moment it appeared to Enoch as if he could perceive a change of demeanor in those whom he met. The British officers no longer sauntered to and fro as if time hung heavily on their hands, but went from point to point rapidly, much as though they had business which would permit of no delay.
The Tories, who during the winter had assumed a lordly bearing, now looked anxious, and well they might, for their lot would not be an enviable one when the Continental army stood in the place of the redcoats, and those who had been oppressed because of loyalty to the cause would be in a position to demand reprisals.
It seemed to the boy as if nearly all whom he saw were aware of the impending change, and he went about his business of listening with more confidence than ever before.
On the night after his last conversation with Greene he saw an unusually large throng in front of the City Tavern, and, as a matter of course, pretended to be on the point of entering the building in order that he might mingle with the bystanders.
Ordinarily he would have moved slowly onward to prevent any one from suspecting he really wished to listen, but on this night, excited beyond the bounds of prudence, he deliberately halted in front of a group composed of two officers, a citizen, and a Quaker who had the appearance of having just come from the country.
"The fact is known to but few, and we depend upon our friends in whom we have confided to keep it a secret," one of the officers was saying as Enoch approached.
"There is little doubt but that thy plans are known to the rebel Washington, for his men are ready to execute a quick movement," the Quaker replied. "It is to be regretted that any of the citizens were trusted with thy secret, for all are not loyal to the king."
"Very true, friend Williams; there are more of King George's enemies in Philadelphia to-day than there were two weeks ago. The belief that his majesty's troops are about to leave has made those who had a leaning toward the rebels brave, and they now hope to find favor in the eyes of the new rulers of the city."
"Has the day been fixed upon?" the man in citizen's garb asked, and Enoch pressed yet nearer to hear the reply.
So eager was the boy to learn this most important bit of information that he gave no heed to the fact he was pressing against the Quaker more rudely than would have been proper even if they had been crowded for space, and before the officer could speak Enoch was seized suddenly by the ear.
Looking up quickly and in alarm, he saw that his captor was the Quaker, and now for the first time realized that the man's face was one he had seen before, although where he could not remember.
"Thou art an eavesdropper, lad, and one who makes it his calling, if I do not mistake," the Quaker said sternly. "What business hast thou here?"
"I was going into the tavern, sir," Enoch replied, his cheeks crimsoning with shame, and then he tried to wrench himself free regardless of the pain, for he recognized in his captor that Quaker at whose house General Lafayette had established his headquarters on Barren Hill.
"Thou wast not thinking of going into the tavern – at least, not until thou hadst learned the purport of our conversation. Have I not seen thee before?"
"I have always lived in this city, and it may have been that you and I have passed each other on the street," Enoch replied, with much stammering and show of confusion.
"I have seen thee elsewhere, lad. Unless I much mistake thou wast one who brought to the rebel Lafayette, when he was in my house, word that General Howe had started in pursuit of him."
"What is that?" one of the officers asked quickly, stepping in front of Enoch to peer into his face. "Are you certain this boy carried that information, Friend Williams?"
"It may be I am mistaken; but it does not seem possible. The lad much resembled this one; I saw him only for a moment, yet then I had a full view of his face."
By this time several of the gentlemen nearest had gathered around to learn the cause of the disturbance, for all, even including the Quaker, were displaying considerable excitement, and Enoch was so hemmed in that escape seemed impossible.
"It should be a simple matter to ascertain if he is in the rebel service," the second officer suggested. "A squad of our men chased two boys on that night, and, so it was reported, wounded or killed one of them. We will send this fellow to the guard-house until he has been seen by all. I would like to get hold of a few spies before we leave the city."
Enoch knew that even if those who had chased Jacob and himself failed to identify him, there were very many British soldiers, as well as officers, who knew him as one suspected of aiding Seth to escape, and that his doom was sealed once he was in custody.
It was absolutely necessary, if he would save his life, to make a supreme effort to get free before a squad of soldiers could be summoned, and even though he should fail, his position would be no more desperate than it already was.
The Quaker still retained his hold of the boy's ear, and one of the officers was grasping him by the collar, while on every side the throng was so dense that there appeared little hope he could force his way through, even though no one tried to detain him.
It was, perhaps, because of this fact that the officer's hold was by no means firm; but the Quaker was clutching his ear as if anticipating an attempt at escape.
The gentleman in the broad-brimmed hat was, therefore, the greatest obstacle in Enoch's road to freedom, and he it was who must be vanquished before further move could be made.
