Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 21, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 October 1899 — THE PATRIOTS FALISMAN. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE PATRIOTS FALISMAN.

By Sylvanus Cobb, Jr.

CHAPTER XIII. | At the time of which we are now writthe main defenses of the British rakray at Philadelphia, on the north, were B line of intrenchments, commencing on ■he Delaware river, just above Willow Mnet, and running across to the Schuyl'<*lll, terminating at the Upper Ferry. Mk a line with that part of Callowhill Btreet. This line was composed of ten ■•doubts, well manned, and connected by Bprong palisades. The first redoubt was ■t the junction of what were then counroads, one leading to Frankford, and Hfce Other to Kensington, very near to I’Che Delaware, and on the present line of Mhteene street; it was occupied by a force raf light-horse, called The Queen’s RangMn, under command of Lieut. Col. Simfc-' Just 'at dusk, on the evening of TuesMay, tiie third of March, in the midst of HI driving snowstorm, a stranger apKtoached the redoubt by way of the KenKtngton road, and upon being hailed by rathe sentinel, he demanded to see the ■Acer of the guard. “I am one of the king's scouts,” he maid, “with a pass, but without the coun- , As the sentinel had no business with Mtny pass but the countersign, he called Hfor tile sergeant of the guard. The serHpant came, and when he had learned the particulars he went back to the guard ||house, and soon returned, bearing a langtern, and accompanied by a lieutenant. pThe sergeant held up his lantern, the ■ght of which revealed a tall, strongly Mailt man, enveloped in a rough, thick ■horse blanket, beneath which was per■eptible the green garb peculiar to the Kbry legion. His face was dark, with a Surge piece of surgeon’s sticking plaster Kpon the left cheek, extending from the ■burner of the mouth almost to the temBpe. His hair was black and matted, and girorn quite long, being cropped in front ■B keep it from his eyes. B “You have a pass?” said the lieutenR**By your leave, yes—and from Sir MYilliam.” “Who are you?” ■i-My pass will tell you, if you have the pght to look at it.” ; “Let me see it.” fe “It’s hardly the thing, Lieutenant, in |this driving storm. Isn’t Qol. Simcoe at Khe redoubt?” “Give me your name and I will carry nt to him.” | "It’s a name that I guess has been Beard of in both camps—John Tremaine." HJt may have been the name, or it may ■have been the man’s manner, that led the ■eu tenant to pass him by the sentinel, MBid then direct him to follow with the ■Sergeant. 'i. A sort of blockhouse had been erected pblose by the redoubt, upon the south, in ■Which was a suite of very comfortable ■jiartments, and in one of the largest of Hhese the lieutenant found his superior, Bn. whom he reported, and who immedi|||b<rly ordered that the scout should be Brought before him. '' I Lieut. Col. J. Graves Simcoe, lately ■promoted from the rank of major, was a pniddle-aged, strongly framed man, bearMog the stamp of hard service upon his Breather beaten face. He looked up from ■is desk, where he had been writing in Bis journal, as the newcomer entered. Bftre scout had laid aside his storm beaten Kanket in an ante-room, and he now ■food proudly erect in his green uniform, Ks though conscious that he was of imKtttance enough to the royal cause to be ■Mpeeted, even by a lieutenant colonel. pSe patch of plaster gave his dark face a ■Minister expression, and the long, black Bair was like an Indian’s. Frnm an inBer pocket he drew a vellum pouch, and Eom the pouch he took a paper, which, Mrlthout speaking, he handed to the col- | Simcoe opened the paper and held it toBirards the light of his candles; and when Be R bad read it, he signed to the lieutenMtnt and the sergeant that they might Btthdraw. b “So,” he said, when they two were Blone, “you are John Tremaine?” f “Yes, Colonel.” f “Where are you from?” | “From the Chester farms back of Walley Forge—from Gabriel Van Tromp’s you come with information for P'Fer Sir William, yes.” E“What is its nature?” R "Excuse me, Colonel. My orders are Mfeam Sir William Howe, and to him I ■gust first report.” E"You are right. By what route have ■pu come?” p* “I crossed the Schuylkill below Valley ■nrge, and came by the way of White ■tarsh and Germantown.” “A roundabout way, I should say.” K*Yes, but a safe one. Seaton’s cavalry Bre raiding on the other side.” expressed bis estimation of SeaBga’s cavalry in language rather more Bgofane than polite, and then continued: so Captain Seated is not dead, HjFghould think not, sir.” | "Your chief, Kirk Fagan, sent us word ■mat he was surely done for.” “Aye, sir, and on the very next day Slkfter that Fagan was himself captured.” I heard of that. But, say—have Bbah or iicsird. anything of a orovis* od the road since you struc k the ■kite Marsh?” sir." . “It is strange where Maj. McKenzie ■mb be, He should have been here yesKjtobe the storm, sir tfiahHie should have been here hours '■More this storm set in. But I will not ■ I will se V d an orderly with - Rir William’s headQuartcrs ” -There is no need of that, Colonel. If u Howe to at the old place, on High 1* a secret one, and there may Ito people at. his quarters who. ought not that I ht V be Co “ e t ilL d” and

having looked over the pass again, he refolded it and handed it back. “I think I will trust you, Tremaine. This pass gives you considerable latitude. The countersign is Oxford. How long shall you be in town?” "That depends upon the commander-in-chief.” ’» “I see. Very wall. Don’t get lost in the snow. Y’ou know the way?” “Perfectly.” “Good-night.” “Good-night, Colonel.” And then the scout went out. In the ante-room he resumed his blanket, and to the sentinel at the outer door he gave the countersign, and was allowed to emerge once more into the storm. Ah! well was it for Simcoe’s orderly that he was not called upon to conduct the wayfarer to Hoyve’s quarters. There is a desolate stretch between the redoubt and High street, which he would certainly never have passed alive! Could the lieutenant colonel have had his thoughts led in any such direction? Had he been led to mistrust the scout? Certain it is, at all events, that before the man had been gone two minutes he summoned an orderly. “Duston, did you observe the man who just left me?” “The man with the blanket, sir?” “Blanket?” “Ah, I forgot. He put off his blanket outside. Him with the green coat, sir?” “Yes.” “Yea, Colonel.” “I wish you to follow him, close and sharp. Lt he stops at Gen. Howe’s

headquarters, let him go. If he goes elsewhere, be able to let me know where it is. Do you understand?” “Ye®, sir.” “Be careful that he does not observe you. Make haste, now.” Graves Simcoe was an old soldier, and had been placed in command of that particular redoubt because of his watchfulness and native shrewdness. He had seen a good many of the'up-river Tories, but never before one exactly like this one. He had been the most keenly observant when he had appeared the furthest from it. In the first place, he knew that the man was thoroughly military—a soldier from top to toe. Not a single posture or point of bearing had he exhibited like a hireling Tory scout. In the next place, he knew the man was disguised. The beating snow had wet the plaster patch, and there was certainly no wound beneath it! And, further, the lustrous, fullorbed, gray eyes were not in keeping with the coarse, straight, black hair. The man might be all right, but there had been strange doings in and around the American camp at Valley Forge, and the colonel certainly had his doubts. Meantime, the man with the pass, with his blanket gathered closely about him, made his way to Second street He passed three sentinels before he reached High srtreet, to whom he gave the countersign. At length High street (now Market) was reached, but he did not turn into it He kept on past that, and also past Chestnut. At the corner of Walnut street he stopped, and had he turned he might have seen a man dodge quickly behind a tree; but he seemed to have no thought that he was followed. He moved like one whose mind was wholly preoccupied, and whose thoughts were profoundly and intensely fixed. After a little seeming hesitation he moved on to Locust street, where he turned to the westward, which course he pursued until he had reached a point not far from the Schuylkill, where he stopped. Upon his right was a low gate, hooked upon she inside, which fastening he easily loosed. Beyond was a narrow passage, between two garden walks, or fences, running in towards Walnut street, at the end of which was another gate, opening to the small back yard of a wooden dwelling. This latter point gained, the man in the blanket looked up at the small rear windows, but could see no light. He listened awhile, and then applied his knuckles to the door of the porch. After repeating his summons twice and waiting a long time, a window was opened above, and a voicve—a woman’s voice—hailed him: “Who’s there?” “A sergeant of the guard after deserters. Open the door!” “There are no deserters here, good sir.” “There are soldiers in the house?” “No.-” “Your roof gives shelter to members of the army of some kind?” “Not at present, sir ” “Patience, let me in!” The sound of a smothered cry came down with the driving snow; the window wa shutt and ere logg afterwards the door of the porch was opened and the man vent in. “Robert!” "Hush! Let us doee and relock the door.” That feat being accomplished, the worn-

an opened a door leading to a room in which a candle was burning—a room we have seen before—the kitchen of the house which had aforetime been the dwelling of Gen. Seaton. The newcomer threw off his snow-covered blanket in the porch, and easily pulled the now thoroughly saturated plaster a from his cheek; and, as he entered the kitchen he removed the unseemly wig of coarse black hair from his head. (‘Robert!—my boy!—my blessed master! O! God be praised!” The old housekeeper grasped both his hands and wrung them fervently. Aye, it was Robert Seaton, alive and well! His face was very dark, and disfigured by a patch of lighter hue upon the left cheek; but there was no mistaking him now. “Yes, good Patience, it is your boy Robert. But, tell me—am I wholly safe? Are we alone in the house?” “We are alone, Robert—alone for the present—but I know not how soon the officers, who find quarters here, may return. O! my dear, dear master, can it be? And we thought you dead!” “It is as you see, Patience; but, before all else, let me know just how I am situated. Who are the officers of whom you speak?” “A captain and two lieutenants of dragoons. They are not bad men. They have treated me with respect. I did not write to you of them for fear you would worry needlessly. But they must not see you.” “Where are they now?” “I do not know. They went away last Thursday, on some sort of an expedition.” A light broke upon our hero. “Were they bound upon a foraging expedition?” “For provisions—yes.” “And to the northward?” “Yes —towards the Lehigh Valley.” “Officers of dragoons, you say?” “Yes.” "Captain Stanley was one of them?” “Yes.” “Then we need not fear their immediate return, Patience. The captain and both his lieutenants are safely lodged with our provost at Valley Forge. Let me have fresh water and soap and a towel, and I will tell you the story by and by.”

“And you are hungry, Robert?” “Yes, Patience, I am hungry as a man can be who has not eaten for twelve hours.” While the woman went for the water, the adventurer went into the room overlooking the front court, and saw that the shutters were tightly closed and secured, after which he seated himself by the kitchen fire, where he was aroused by his companion. , “Ahl Patience!” he cried, starting up “I can keep back the sigh no longer. If my heart must break, let it be now, and be done! Is—is—Lillian ” “Dear boy,” answered Patience, seizing his outstretched hands, and not waiting for him to finish, “Lillian is alive and well, and has not yet surrendered. Oh, Robert, she has been most true to you!” “God bless her! And God bless you, dear woman, for telling me so! I shall see her —you can help me in this, Patience?” “I will tell you when you have washed. The water is getting cold.” When our hero had thoroughly cleansed the skin which had been stained, and had combed out his soft brown, wavy hair, he looked so entirely like his old self that his green garb would hardly have been noticed by a friend. By this time, Patience had set out a gen-, erous in quantity, if not so very delicate in quality, and as the youthful hero sat down, she regarded him with reverent admiration. “Now, Patience, while I am eating you can tell me of Lillian. How can I see her?” “Dear boy, if you see her at all, you will see her here. Of course you would not venture to her father’s house. He is the worst enemy, I think, you have on earth.” “I know he is—ah, I know it! I would not go there if it can be avoided. But I must see Lillian.” “And so you shall, Robert. She comes here whenever she can. She has one faithful servant who remains true to her through all, and by exchanging clothes with that girl she manages to escape observation. She may be here this very night.” “How! This night, say you?” “Easy, my master. She will come as soon as she can, for she is very, very anxious to know if I have heard from you. Her life is one constant strife with her father, - and she seeks knowledge of you to give her strength." “And this strife?” “Wait, Robert. If she comes to-night, it must be ere long. She will tell you the story of her trials. But you have not done your supper?” “Yea, Patience —I have eaten enough. O, if I can see my Lillian, she shall be saved. If she will flee with me, I can take her from the city. I have another pass—l have two passes from Gen. Howe, taken from our Tory prisoners. If she will assume a male dipguise, we will away together! She wUI go! She will go with' me, I know! Do you not think so,-Patience?” “Yes—yes. Ah! Hark! I hear a signal at the porch door!” “la it—can it be—Lillian?” “Go you into the other room, Robert, and I will go and see.” And with this the housekeeper arose and went out into the porch. •••• ♦ • • ( While these things were going on in the

house of the Walnut street court, something not entirely uninteresting, and not widely severed in bearing from the affairs of our adventurer, was transpiring elsewhere. Col. Simcoe’s orderly had returned to the block house. It was near nine o’clock when he came in. He threw off his overcoat without stopping to shake the snow from it, and knocked at his master’s door. “Ah—Duston!” The colonel pushed aside his writing, and turned his chair. “Did you* follow that man?” “Yes, Colonel,” replied the orderly, open-eyed; “and he did not go to headquarters at all—he did not offer to go. I followed him close, and he pushed on like a man who had something important on hand. He did not even stop at High street, but at Walnut he stopped just a Yew moments, and then kept on and tunned up Locust street. Over towards the Schuylkill river he turned into a narrow passage to his right, by which he gained the rear of the house in which Captain Stanley of McKenzie’s Dragoons has his quarters. I was close upon his heels, and waited until some one—a woman, I am sure—let him in, and then ” “And then,” cried the colonel, springing to his feet, “did you come away and leave him?” “No, sir. I have not served J. Graves Simcoe three years to be guilty of such oversight. I ran to the redoubt on the Schuylkill, at the foot of Chestnut street, and got a sergeant and eight men of the Seventy-first, to watch the place. They might let people in, but they were to suffer no one to come out. They are stationed in the court leading in from Walnut street, and also at the alley on Locust; and there they will wait until further orders. I used your name, Colonel. Did Ido right?” “My brave Duston, you did just the thing! I’ll put a chevron upon your arm for this. At Stanley’s quarters!—lt is Seaton’s house!—And Stanley is with the provision train—and not in yet! By the gods of war! I scent mischief here! My hat and cloak—quick!” And in a very few minutes Col. Simcoe was out in the storm, with his orderly trotting close behind, hurrying away towards headquarters. The British commander-in-chief occupied a stately residlence on High street, very near to the corner of Sixth, and at half-past nine o’clock the commander of the Queen’s Rangers appeared in the broad, deep doorway, and demanded admission. So peremptory was he in his demand that the sentinel admitted him at once upon the countersign. Sir William Howe was drinking wine with a few of his favorite officers when Simcoe entered, close upon the orderly’s announcement of his name, and without waiting for permission. “Ah, Colonel!” cried Howe, rising from his chair in evident surprise at this unceremonious intrusion—and that, too, by an officer from the intrenchments, in jack boots and overcoat. “Excuse me, General, but I am on business that may be of importance. Have you reason to expect a visit from a Tory scout called, by your pass, John Tremaine?” “John Tremaine?” repeated Sir William. “Why, the man is dead. 1 received intelligence two days ago from Gabriel Van Tromp. He was captured by young Seaton, and died in the hands of the enemy.” “You know this?” “My information is direct and reliable. But, in heaven’s name, Colonel, what has happened? Have you ” “Wait, General. I have my trap set for a spy! I will report within an hour.” And having thus spoken, Col. Simcoe departed as unceremoniously as he had come. (To be continued.) Copyright.

CAPTAIN SEATON AN D COLONEL SIMCOE.