The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 30 October 1913, Page 5

The Storyteller

A SOLDIER'S SACRIFICE It was at the close of 1776. Washington, compelled to abandon Fort Lee, was retreating through New Jersey, with Cornwallis in hot pursuit. The god of battles appeared to have definitely sided with the biggest battalions. Disaster had succeeded disaster in rapid succession and despondency prevailed among the patriots everywhere. The American commander-in-chief had been baulked at every turn, his best laid plans had been frustrated, his most audacious coups anticipated. It was evident that the British were kept informed of the plans and movements of the little army. But how ? jfa whom? The strictest investigation,, the utmost \vgilance had failed to show. The fact, as was inevitable, was gradually causing a demoralising effect upon the force. Comrades began to regard each other with suspicion. Enthusiasm had been succeeded by uneasiness, which in turn was giving place to vague terror. . "

Col. Edward Dayton, one of the chief's trustiest and most zealous officers, had been specially charged to elucidate the mystery, and had set about the task with the thoroughness that characterised all his actions. He had devised all manner of ingenious but futile

schemes to entrap the traitor, and had sworn to make a terrible example of him if he ever caught him. Col. Dayton was a stern man, a martinet in all matters pertaining to military discipline, but of a kindly nature at heart. Of old Colonial stock, he had served with Washington against the Indians and was intensely patriotic. When the struggle for freedom began he had at once issued from the retirement in which he had been living in New York and hurried to the field', accompanied by his son George and Ernest Travers, a distant relative. Young Travers, who was about the same age as George, had been left an orphan and destitute when a little child. Mrs. Dayton had suggested that they could do no less than take the boy in and bring him up with their own children. Her husband. had readily acquiesced and had never had reason to regret his kindness. Ernest, in fact, was engaged to marry Priscilla Dayton, the colonel's only other child. The retreating army, by a series of rapid marches, had finally succeeded in baffling their pursuers, and found themselves at nightfall on the outskirts of a wood. The commander-in-chief decided to call a brief halt. As a precaution no fires were allowed; but despite the bitter cold the exhausted soldiers, with the exception of those Told off to guard the camp, threw themselves on the snow-covered ground, and soon forgot their troubles and hardships in sleep. Ernest Travers was among the unfortunate men detailed for outpost duty. He found himself stationed at the edge of the wood, out of sight of the camp and of every other sentry. It was dreadfully lonely. The moon was at the full, but veiled by clouds and in the dim light the. tall, bare trees looked like specfres. He was as brave as any other man of his inexperience, but there was something awesome in the knowledge that the lives of his • slumbering comrades, perhaps the success of his country's cause, might depend upon his alertness and sagacity, and then the solitude and obscurity impressed him. . Moreover, he was worn out by many hours of forced marching, and his nervous system was shaken by weeks of fighting, excitement, and fatigue. His eyes and ears were strained to catch the slightest sight or sound of anything portending danger. He started at every rustle, every moving shadow caused by the swaying of a branch in the wind, and could scarcely restrain himself from firing off his musket and running back to camp, where confidence could alone be regained by mingling with his fellows.

Under the strain of physical exhaustion, supplemented by the freezing temperature, he at length became drowsy and numb. His legs began to give way. He felt that he was slowly but surely 'losing consciousness, notwithstanding his efforts to fight it off. He staggered against a tree and, sliding to the ground in the shadow of""it, rolled over on his face. The snow that melted upon his lips and temples revived him after he had lain there a few minutes, and he gathered his wits together sufficiently to realise the danger in which the army stood of being surprised by the enemy and his own peril if found in his present position by the round. No explanation would be listened to. Accused of sleeping at His post, he would be summarily courtmartialled and shot.

This thought galvanised him into activity again, and he bent his stiffened limbs in an effort to struggle to his feet. As he did so he thought he saw something moving among the trees, and his heart came into his mouth as he made that something out to. be a man. His first' impulse was to secure his musket, which was lying where he had dropped it a few yards away, and challenge the prowler. He checked himself, however, for he reflected that if he moved out of the shadow of the tree he would certainly be seen and the man would get clear away in the wood before he could fire at him. At the same time it occurred to him that he might be watching tlie spy whose identity his uncle, everybody, had vainly sought to discover. His surmise was strengthened by the fact that the man was coming from the direction of the camp, not going towards it.

/ * However this might be, the man was plainly ignorant of the sentry's proximity. He advanced to the edge of the wood, peered rapidly in every direction, and, running along the shadow, entered the wood again a few yards from where Travers was crouching. Leaping out upon him, Ernest grabbed him with both hands. The man uttered a low, startled yell and struggled desperately to free himself. Back and forth they swayed, the sentry shouting for help until he was~*oorne against a tree withviolence that he was nearly stunned. ' / Suddenly the man ceased struggling. r T am lost! Here comes the guard. Don't shout. For God's sake have mercy upon me and let me go/ he supplicated, hoarsely. Travers ■ started as though he had been shot. Dragging the man into a clearing, where it was light enough for him to see his face, he pushed him away from him after a moment's hesitation and said: ' Run !' The man needed no second bidding. As he disappeared in the darkness Travers, trying to calm his violent agitation, hurried back toward his post; but ere he had taken many steps a stern voice ordered him to halt, and he found himself . surrounded by the guard. One of the soldiers was carrying the musket he had dropped. ' What are you doing off post and without your musket?' demanded the sergeant. ' I—-l—nothing,' stammered Travers, confusedly. ' I saw something run into yonder thicket. Here, Putnam, iVan Zandt, Holloway, quick, after him. Get him, alive or dead. Shoot at anything you see moving. You others arrest this fellow and fill him full of slugs if he attempts to break away.' The three men named darted away.into the wood, while the others seized Travers, who offered no resistance. The sergeant struck a light with a tinder box and flint and explored the ground round about. * I thought I was not mistaken,' he exclaimed. ' Another man has been here. The footmarks are different. Oh, if it were only daylight, so that we could follow his trail! Ah! what is this?' He picked up a slip of folded paper. It bore a number of figures and capital letters. ' A cipher message ! Oh, ho ! We're on a redhot clue this uime, and no mistake.' r "Sergeant/ began Travers, ' I ' Silence, traitor!' commanded the sergeant. ' Keep your lies for Col. Dayton and the. chief. You'll need to invent a mighty plausible explanation to escape facing a firing party at daybreak.' The soldiers who had been seen in pursuit of the fugitive presently returned and reported that they had seen nothing of him. The guard then closed around Travers and he was marched back to the main command. The army was already astir and the other sentries had been called in, for Washington was very anxious to put the Delaware between him and the British. Travers' comrades looked wonderingly at him as he was brought in. Col. Dayton listened to the sergeant's report without saying a word, and taking the cipher message examined it long and intently. His face waxed very pale and hard as he said, shortly : ' Bring the prisoner here.' Travers, heavily manacled, was brought forward. The colonel motioned to the sergeant to draw off his men, and the guard, lining up and grounding arms at a respectful distance, left uncle and nephew facingeach other. ( / For a moment neither spoke. Travers, with head ■ erect, eyed the old soldier calmly and waited to be questioned. 'Ernest Travers,' said the colonel at last, and his voice was harsh, ' when you joined the army of liberty yon for the time being severed all family ties and became the servant of your country, which you swore to serve faithfully and defend with your life. Remember that you are dealing not with your uncle, but your superior officer, and that claims of relationship cannot be evoked. You are accused of a terrible crime,

the punishment of which is an ignominious death. Unless you can prove to me beyond the shadow of a doubt that you are innocent, the penalty will be inflicted swiftly and pitilessly. ' The charge against you is that you are a spy in the services of your country's enemies; that you have systematically kept them informed of the movements of the army of liberty; that while on outpost duty you were caught holding intercourse with some person or persons unknown, emissary or emissaries of the enemy; that in the confusion caused by the unexpected arrival of the guard you, or the person to whom you had given it, dropped a cipher message written by you, the meaning of which is not yet known to your superior officers, but which is thought to betray military secrets of which you by some means yet to be discovered have obtained possession. What have you to say?' ' That I am innocent, sir.'

' That is no answer. Facts and details are what I want, not empty phrases. I warn you again not to trifle with me. It is a matter of life or death to you.' ' I was on outpost duty and saw a man advancing through the wood. I suspected that he might be a spy and tried to arrest him. He escaped as the guard came up.' ' Your duty was to challenge him and if necessary fire upon him. Did you do that?' 'No, sir. From some cause or other I had fainted a little while previously and dropped my musket some paces from where I fell. When I recovered I saw the man coming through the wood and feared that •' if I moved to reach my musket he would see me and get away. I sprang out upon him as he passed me.' ' You fainted ! A likely story, truly. At any rate, you must have seen the man's face if you struggled with him. Do you know him? Would you know him if you saw him again?' ' It was pitch dark in the wood.' ' Why did you say you did not know what you were doing off post duty when the sergeant caught you?' ' I was probably dazed by a blow received in the struggle, which made my head bleed, as you see.' ' That proves nothing. You may have struck your head against a tree in your precipitation to return on the approach of the guard. What is the meaning of this cipher 'I do not know sir.' ' Who gave it to you?' 'No one; it must have been dropped by the man with whom I struggled.' ' Is that the only explanation you can offer?' ' That is all, sir.' ' What you have told me is a tissue of absurd, patently absurd, falsehoods.' ' I admit that circumstantial evidence is strongly against me, but I assure you on my honor, sir, that I am innocent.' 'The honor of a traitor and a spy!' No, sir the honor of an honest man and a patriot.' ' I do not believe you,' said the colonel, fiercely. The sergeant's account ,of the circumstances in which lib had arrested the young man appeared to leave no room for doubt as to his guilt. He thought upon all that he had done for him. The base ingratitude with which he had apparently been requited and the fact that a member of his family had been the traitor who had so long eluded him and wrought such harm to the patriot army maddened him. For a moment he lost his head, forgot the dignity of his position and struck the prisoner with his clenched fist.

The news of Travers' arrest and of the charge against him had spread through the camp like wildfire and caused the greatest excitement. The men, disregarding for once the authority of their officers, rushed at the prisoner as he was marched through the lines and would have torn him to pieces had they not been beaten back by the guard, who so vigorously used their muskets as clubs. As it was, when, half an hour later, he was taken before the drum-head court-martial, over which Washington himself presided, he was fear-

fully, bruised and covered with blood. He'made no defence. He seemed to be completely crushed and.returned no answer at all or responded in scarcely audible monosyllables to the questions addressed to him. It was agreed that his explanations to Col. Dayton were too weak to merit serious consideration when compared with the straightforward report of the sergeant, given with great embellishment of detail. . ■ The deliberation of the court was brief. . Ernest Travers was sentenced to be shot in the presence of the whole army.- «

There was no time to lose. The safety of the force depended upon a hurried advance. Washington's anxiety was depicted upon his martial visage. But it was imperative that the execution should be summary and as imposing as possible, in order to properly impress the troops with the heinousness of the offence and to serve as a warning to the prisoner's accomplices, for it was not doubted that there were other traitors in the camp. It was deemed impossible for any member of the rank and file to obtain unaided the information that had been sent to the enemy, and the court had exhausted every means of inducing Travers to disclose the names of his fellow-culprits. The army was drawn up in three sides of a square, with the commander-in-chief and his staff in the centre space. The condemned man, after being marched along the front of the ranks, was placed against a tree. The muskets of the execution platoon were levelled at his breast and the officer in command had raised his sword, which, when lowered, would give the fatal signal, when a shriek was heard, there was a commotion on one side of the square and a soldier rushed forward calling wildly upon the men not to fire. The general held up his hand as a signal to the officer commanding the firing party to wait. Col. Dayton had immediately spurred his horse' toward the man who was the cause of this sensational interruption. The soldier clasped the officer's knee and said something to him as he bent from his saddle. Suddenly Dayton shook him off, ordered a sergeant to arrest him and, ghastly pale, galloped back to the chief, who was awaiting with visible impatience and annoyance at the delay. A few minutes' earnest conversation passed between them, while the army looked on in breathless wonder at it all. The colonel's report resulted in the postponement of the execution and the immediate resumption of the march to the Delaware. Meanwhile the condemned man had fainted.

The army had safely crossed the river and was quartered in a large village. Enthusiastic recruits were pouring in from every direction and Washington was preparing to turn back and resume the offensive in New Jersey. ' Travers, imprisoned in an upper room of a farmhouse, had recovered somewhat from the terrible emotions through which he had passed and the ill usage to which he had been subjected, but he was haggard and emaciated. He spent most of the time stretched upon his mattress. He did not know why he had been respited. None of the men who guarded him and brought him food ever spoke to him. He lived in hourly expectation of being led out to die, and indeed he would have welcomed death as a happy release from his sufferings. On the afternoon of the fourth day of his incarceration the door was thrown open and Col. Dayton stalked in. Travers staggered painfully to his feet and the colonel faced him with folded arms. The

prisoner stood at attention, with lowered eyes and dogged, listless mien, waiting to be questioned, but Dayton did not speak. Then the former looked up wearily, and a flush came into his white cheeks. His uncle, with heaving breast and the tears streaming down his face, was gazing at him with an expression of unspeakable tenderness and grief. ' My boy, my boy, poor boy!' he cried, clasping him to his breast. 'My old heart is broken. Can you ever forgive me? Could I, as I gladly would, give my life for you, I could not recompense you for your noble sacrifice and the suffering I and mine have caused you. Oh, Ernest, Ernest, I am not deserving of your pity, yet I need it sorely/

Don't, uncle don't talk so you are killing me! This is hardest of all to bear,' sobbed Travers, greatly agitated.' • ■■' ; ...■-./. ■ " The old man sank into the only chair in the room, and his nephew, kneeling beside him and clasping his hand, learned what had happened. '"" 'God could not permit the perpetration v of such a crime as the ignoble snuffing out of your life,' said the colonel. 'He has surely marked you for a higher destiny. In His infinite mercy He maddened with remorse him in whose stead you .had suffered-and would have died, forced him at the supreme moment to confess his infamy, and I, my pride justly humbled, thank Him reverently on my bended knees for having saved my wretched son from the additional guilt of murder. ' The story of George's undoing is an old one—none the less pitiable for the retelling. Unknown to me he had been living a fast life with debauched and wealthier young fools than himself. To procure the money wherewith to gratify his vicious tastes and pose as their equal, he took to gambling, got heavily, hopelessly into debt, x and was shown the only way to save himself and me from ruin by a boon companion, rich and in the service of the king. He succumbed to the temptation. ■/. '■'..{ , ;.

. 'ln whom can a .father have : confidence if not in his son ? When I became attached to the.general staff I employed George to' do clerical work for me, and in this way he was able to obtain from confidential dispatches and otherwise information valuable to the enemy. Of course, I never doubted him a minute. He feigned to second me zealously in my efforts to discover the traitor who was betraying us. The improbability of ' your story, the suspicious circumstances of your arrest, compelled me to judge you guilty. George confessed that agents of the king's government are posted in every hamlet. He had the list and was seeking the nearest agent, whom he supposed was stationed at no great distance from where we were encamped that night, when he lost his way in the wood and was captured by you. He did not know who you were till you dragged him into the light after his appeal to you to let him go. You were misguided, my poor boy, in releasing him.'. 'How so, uncle What else could Ido ? It. was not for his sake. Had he been my own brother I would have had no pity. But could I, by delivering him up to justice, wreck the lives, break the hearts of you and my aunt, who have been more than father and mother to me, and of my gentle little Priscilla, my affianced wife? Surely not. I had intended on returning to camp to arouse him to a sense of the enormity of his conduct, force him to quit. the army and to prove in some way, on pain of exposure, his devotedness to the cause for which we are fighting. I felt that this threat, held over his head, would keep him in the right path. But when I found myself r in the unfortunate position in which I was placed, there remained only one way of repaying you—if it is ever possible to repay youfor all your kindness to me, and that was by hiding the truth. Anybody in my place would have done the same.' >■ ■'l fear not, my. dear' Ernest. Nevertheless, when George had confessed I divined your generous motives, understood the full extent of your sacrifice, and I have come with your pardon and an officer's commission conferred upon you by the commander-in-chief, who was greatly impressed when I acquainted him with the circumstances of the case, and orders you to report to him personally when you are in condition to return to service.'

'And George?' faltered Travers, making a mighty effort to control his emotion at .finding himself thus suddenly raised from the lowest depths of degradation and despair to love and honor. 'George,' said the old man, brokenly, ' blew out his brains,last night. Some unknown friend smuggled a pistol to him. As for me, my life, alas! is not mine to take. It belongs to my country. But I beseech God to send me a soldier's death,in the heat of battle against

my country's foes. He will grant my prayer if -He judge best, and thus I may in a measure atone for my son's sin.'