Part 1 (1/2)

The Reckoning.

by Robert W. Chambers.

PREFACE

The author's intention is to treat, in a series of four or five romances, that part of the war for independence which particularly affected the great landed families of northern New York: the Johnsons, represented by Sir William, Sir John, Guy Johnson, and Colonel Claus; the notorious Butlers, father and son; the Schuylers, Van Rensselaers, and others.

The first romance of the series, Cardigan, was followed by the second, The Maid-at-Arms. The third in order is not completed. The fourth is the present volume.

As Cardigan pretended to portray life on the baronial estate of Sir William Johnson, the first uneasiness concerning the coming trouble, the first discordant note struck in the harmonious councils of the Long House, so, in The Maid-at-Arms, which followed in order, the author attempted to paint a patroon family disturbed by the approaching rumble of battle. That romance dealt with the first serious split in the Iroquois Confederacy; it showed the Long House shattered though not fallen; the demoralization and final flight of the great landed families who remained loyal to the British Crown; and it struck the key-note to the future att.i.tude of the Iroquois toward the patriots of the frontier--revenge for their losses at the battle of Oriskany--and ended with the march of the militia and Continental troops on Saratoga.

The third romance, as yet incomplete and unpublished, deals with the war-path and those who followed it, led by the landed gentry of Tryon County, and ends with the first solid blow delivered at the Long House, and the terrible punishment of the Great Confederacy.

The present romance, the fourth in chronological order, picks up the thread at that point.

The author is not conscious of having taken any liberties with history in preparing a framework of facts for a mantle of romance.

ROBERT W. CHAMBERS.

NEW YORK, _May 26, 1904_.

I

_His muscle to the ax and plow, His calm eye to the rifle sight, Or at his country's beck and bow, Setting the fiery cross alight, Or, in the city's pageantry, Serving the Cause in secrecy,-- Behold him now, haranguing kings While through the shallow court there rings The light laugh of the courtezan; This the New Yorker, this the Man!_

II

_Standing upon his blackened land, He saw the flames mount up to G.o.d, He saw the death tracks in the sand, And the dead children on the sod, He saw the half-charred door, unbarred, The dying hound he left on guard, And that still thing he once had wed Sprawled on the threshold dripping red: Dry-eyed he primed his rifle pan; This the New Yorker, this the Man!_

III

He plowed the graveyard of his dead And sowed the grain to feed a host; In silent lands untenanted Save by the Sachems' painted ghost He set the ensign of the sun; A thousand axes rang as one In the black forest's falling roar, And through the glade the plowshare tore Like G.o.d's own blade in Freedom's van; This the New Yorker, and the Man!

R. W. C.

PROLOGUE

ECHOES OF YESTERDAY

His Excellency's system of intelligence in the City of New York I never pretended to comprehend. That I was one of many agents I could have no doubt; yet as long as I remained there I never knew but three or four established spies with residence in town. Although I had no illusions concerning Mr. Gaine and his ”Gazette,” at intervals I violently suspected Mr. Rivington of friendliness to us, and this in spite of his Tory newspaper and the fierce broadsides he fired at rebels and rebellion. But I must confess that in my long and amiable acquaintance with the gentleman he never, by word or hint or inference, so much as by the quiver of an eyelash, corroborated my suspicion, and to this day I do not know whether or not Mr. Rivington furnished secret information to his Excellency while publicly in print he raged and sneered.

Itinerant spies were always in the city in spite of the deadly watch kept up by regular and partizan, and sometimes they bore messages for me, the words ”Pro Gloria” establis.h.i.+ng their credentials as well as mine. They entered the city in all guises and under all pretexts, some as refugees, some as traitors, some wearing the uniform of Tory partizan corps, others attired as tradesmen, farmers, fishermen, and often bearing pa.s.ses, too, though where they contrived to find pa.s.ses I never understood.