man?Pasquin. As handsome a man, please your honour, as ever the sun shone upon. It did me good to look upon him.
Arnold (aside). This must be him. [To Pasquin] Bid the sergeant show him the way to me immediately, and put up his horse in my own stable. He is from Philadelphia, a friend and relative of mine.
[Exit Pasquin
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Arnold (solus). This is Major Andre, indeed. We have agreed in our correspondence that he shall pass here under the name of Captain Ashton, to prevent suspicion.
[Sergeant introduces Major Andre
Arnold. Captain Ashton, my friend, how are you? Please to draw near the fire and sit. How do our friends at Philadelphia? [Exit
sergeant] The booby is now gone, and we may talk freely without suspicion.
Maj. Andre. I am happy at length to see General Arnold, with whom I have corresponded so long at a distance. I hope, my dear general, you are ready to perform your promise.
Arnold. Undoubtedly the fort shall be yours within three days, upon the conditions I mentioned to you in[Pg 62] my last letter. I
hope you have apprised Sir Henry of them.
Maj. Andre. Yes, sir. He is satisfied, and thinks your demand really moderate; but now let us to the point. We must fall upon some plan by which we must act without much danger of miscarriage. Would it not be best that our troops should seem to take the fort by surprise, and thus prevent the world from having any suspicion of treachery in the case?
Arnold. I have had the same thought, my dear sir. Besides, if we can make this pass, I shall become a prisoner of war to you in appearance, be exchanged after a little time, and so be in a capacity to serve you again; or, pretending the fort not tenable, I may make my escape during your attack, and all this without any suspicion on the part of the Americans.
Maj. Andre. God grant your scheme may be successful.
Arnold. Now hear what I have to propose further. When you are embarked with your army, suppose one or two thousand men or more sail up the river as far as you safely can, short of the fort, and endeavour to make the country believe you are on a plundering expedition. I shall have companies out who will give me notice of all your movements. Then land your men, march up to the fort, demand a surrender, which I will absolutely refuse. Upon which hang out your bloody flag and fire against the walls point blank, without mercy. In that part of the fortress where I shall be, you will see a small white flag flying. Do not fire to that quarter. The garrison shall discharge the artillery three times over your heads, after which I will surrender and open the gates to you. Then, by not putting one of the garrison to death, which would be your right, you[Pg 63] having stormed it, you will have an excellent opportunity of giving the world a new instance of British humanity. Then you may pour your troops into the fort, take possession of it, and hoist the British flag. The prisoners may immediately be sent to the shipping and ordered to New York before the Continental forces will have a chance of hindering the embarkation. What say you?
Maj. Andre. Excellently well imagined. I hope it may succeed. The money shall be paid you on your arrival at York; but there is another service Sir Henry would fain hope you could indulge him in, and your reward shall be double.
Arnold. What may it be?
Maj. Andre. He is eager to be possessed of your Commander-in-Chief. Could you contrive no way to get him into our hands? He is the soul of this obstinate rebellion. Were he a prisoner to us, America would soon be ours again.
Arnold (pausing). Why, true, it would greatly facilitate the recovery of the colonies. Let me see. I will endeavour to prevail upon him to spend a day or two at Robinson's home. Nay, I am sure he will be here next Monday, and the garrison. There are a number of disaffected people not far from hence, whom I can engage to secure his person and convey him on board the Vulture ship of war.
Maj. Andre. If we become by your means possessed of these two jewels, General Washington and this important fort, we shall never
think the obligation sufficiently acknowledged. You will become the greatest man in the world. Britain will adore you. She will kiss
the very ground you tread upon, besides lavishing wealth upon you by millions.[Pg 64]
Arnold. She is heartily welcome to such poor services as I can render her. What I do is from principle, from the consciousness of a rectitude of heart and love to my country.
Maj. Andre. Sir, you were born to be a great man. Now, if you will be pleased to deliver me the plan of the fort, signals of recog-nizance and other papers of consequence in this affair, I will be going. I do not think myself safe till such times as I get within the British lines again.
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Arnold. The danger is trifling. With a passport from me, you may go anywhere in these colonies.
Maj. Andre. Sir, I thank you. It may be of service indeed.
Arnold. I will write it immediately. There, sir; and here is the packet. I will not detain you, because I know the business requires dispatch. You will, however, sup with me, and take a glass of wine before you go.
Maj. Andre. I shall hardly have time; however, I will wait half an hour.
Arnold. Walk with me into this other apartment; we soldiers do not stand upon ceremony. But how do you carry these papers so as to conceal them in case you meet with any over-curious persons?
Maj. Andre. I have an expedient. I can carry them in the foot of my boot. Do you see how snug they lie? [Putting them on
Arnold. Aye, faith, that was well thought of; but do not put the passport in your boot. Maj. Andre. No, no. That goes into my pocket.
[Pg 65]
Scene II.--An ancient stone building in the Dutch taste. Three officers, Vincent, Ambrose, Asmith. Vincent and Asmith entering.
Am. Well are we met in these sequestered wilds; Whence come ye, brothers, at so late an hour?
Vin. From scouring all the country up and down, To seize, if fortune please, illicit traders,
Who are so bold and unscrupulous grown
That oft in open day, as well as night,
They bear large cargoes of provision down To yonder ships that still infest our river. How I detest these underhanded scoundrels, Who, hungry as the grave for British gold,
Feed the vile foe that lurks within our harbours.
Am. Gods! Can they be so base,--but there are they
Who sell their country for a mess of pottage,-- A servile, scheming race whose god is gain,
Who for a little gold would stab their fathers And plunder life from her who gave them life. These are not true Americans. They are
A spurious race--scum, dregs, and bastards all. They are not true Americans, I say.
As. They cannot be, they help toward our ruin. But, gentlemen, I'll tell you what I think;
We have so many lurking foes within, And such a potent enemy without, That I almost despair, I must confess,
That ever
