Part 5 (1/2)

It was plain that Was.h.i.+ngton was troubled. As he paced the piazza of the stately Murray mansion one fine autumn afternoon, he was saying half aloud to himself, ”Shall we defend or shall we quit New York?”

At this time Was.h.i.+ngton's headquarters were on Manhattan Island, at the home of the Quaker merchant, Robert Murray; and here, in the first week of September, 1776, he had asked his officers to meet him in council.

Was it strange that Was.h.i.+ngton's heart was heavy? During the last week of August, the Continental army had been defeated in the battle of Long Island. A fourth of the army were on the sick list; a third were without tents. Winter was close at hand, and the men, mostly new recruits, were short of clothing, shoes, and blankets. Only fourteen thousand men were fit for duty, and they were scattered all the way from the Battery to Kingsbridge, a distance of a dozen miles or more.

The British army, numbering about twenty-five thousand, lay encamped along the sh.o.r.es of New York Bay and the East River. The soldiers were veterans, and {51} they were led by veterans. A large fleet of war s.h.i.+ps, lying at anchor, was ready to a.s.sist the land forces at a moment's notice. Scores of guard s.h.i.+ps sailed to and fro, watching every movement of the patriot troops.

To give up the city to the British without battle seemed a great pity. The effect upon the patriot cause in all the colonies would be bad. Still, there was no help for it. What was the use of fighting against such odds? Why run the risk of almost certain defeat?

Was.h.i.+ngton always looked beyond the present, and he did not intend now to be shut up on Manhattan Island, perhaps to lose his entire army; so, with the main body, he moved north to Harlem Heights. Here he was soon informed by scouts that the British were getting ready to move at once. Whither, n.o.body could tell. Such was the state of affairs that led Was.h.i.+ngton to call his chief officers to the Murray mansion, on that September afternoon.

Of course they talked over the situation long and calmly. After all, the main question was, What shall be done? Among other things, it was thought best to find the right sort of man, and send him in disguise into the British camp on Long Island, to find out just where the enemy were planning to attack.

”Upon this, gentlemen,” said Was.h.i.+ngton, ”depends at this time the fate of our army.”

The commander in chief sent for Colonel Knowlton, the hero of the rail fence at Bunker Hill.

{52} ”I want you to find for me in your regiment or in some other,”

he said, ”some young officer to go at once into the British camp, to discover what is going on. The man must have a quick eye, a cool head, and nerves of steel. I wish him to make notes of the position of the enemy, draw plans of the forts, and listen to the talk of the officers. Can you find such a man for me this very afternoon?”

”I will do my best, General Was.h.i.+ngton,” said the colonel, as he took leave to go to his regiment.

On arriving at his quarters that afternoon, Knowlton called together a number of officers. He briefly told them what Was.h.i.+ngton wanted, and asked for volunteers. There was a long pause, amid deep surprise.

These soldiers were willing to serve their country; but to play the spy, the hated spy, was too much even for Was.h.i.+ngton to ask.

One after another of the officers, as Knowlton called them by name, declined. His task seemed hopeless. At last, he asked a grizzled Frenchman, who had fought in many battles and was noted for his rash bravery.

”No, no! Colonel Knowlton,” he said, ”I am ready to fight the redcoats at any place and at any time; but, sir, I am not willing to play the spy, and be hanged like a dog if I am caught.”

Just as Knowlton gave up hope of finding a man willing to go on the perilous mission, there came to him the painfully thrilling but cheering words, ”I will undertake {53} it.” It was the voice of Captain Nathan Hale. He had just entered Knowlton's tent. His face was still pale from a severe sickness. Every man was astonished. The whole company knew the brilliant young officer, and they loved him.

Now they all tried to dissuade him. They spoke of his fair prospects, and of the fond hopes of his parents and his friends. It was all in vain. They could not turn him from his purpose.

”I wish to be useful,” he said, ”and every kind of service necessary for the public good becomes honorable by being necessary. If my country needs a peculiar service, its claims upon me are imperious.”

These patriotic words of a man willing to give up his life, if necessary, for the good of his country silenced his brother officers.

”Good-by, Nathan!” ”Don't you let the redcoats catch you!” ”Good luck to you!” ”We never expect to see you again!” cried his nearest friends in camp, as, in company with Colonel Knowlton, the young captain rode out that same afternoon to receive his orders from Was.h.i.+ngton himself.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Hale receiving his Orders from Was.h.i.+ngton]

{54} Nathan Hale was born, as were his eight brothers and his three sisters, in an old-fas.h.i.+oned, two-storied house, in a little country village of Connecticut. His father, a man of integrity, was a stanch patriot. Instead of allowing his family to use the wool raised on his farm, he saved it to make blankets for the Continental army. The mother of this large family was a woman of high moral and domestic worth, devoted to her children, for whom she sought the highest good.

It was a quiet, strict household, Puritan in its faith and its manners, where the Bible ruled, where family prayers never failed, nor was grace ever omitted at meals. On a Sat.u.r.day night, no work was done after sundown.

Young Nathan was a bright, active American boy. He liked his gun and his fis.h.i.+ng pole. He was fond of running, leaping, wrestling, and playing ball. One of his pupils said that Hale would put his hand upon a fence as high as his head, and clear it easily at a bound. He liked books, and read much out of school. Like two of his brothers, he was to be educated for the ministry. When only sixteen, he entered Yale College, and was graduated two years before the battle of Bunker Hill. Early in the fall of 1773, the young graduate began to teach school, and was soon afterwards made master of a select school in New London, in his native state.

At this time young Hale was about six feet tall, and well built. He had a broad chest, full face, light blue eyes, fair complexion, and light brown hair. He had a {55} large mole on his neck, just where the knot of his cravat came. At college his friends used to joke him about it, declaring that he was surely born to be hanged.

Such was Nathan Hale when the news of the bloodshed at Lexington reached New London. A rousing meeting was held that evening. The young schoolmaster was one of the speakers.