THE TREASON OF RUGSDALE
"What I am now about to tell you occurred in the fall of 1782," began Colson. "General Washington was then at West Point. One evening he was invited to a party given at the house of one Rugsdale, an old friend. Several other officers were invited to accompany him. The general seldom engaged in festivities at the period, but in respect to an old acquaintance, and, it is whispered, the solicitations of the daughter of Rugsdale, he consented to honour the company with his presence. He started from West Point in a barge, with some officers and men. As the barge gained the opposite bank, one of the rowers leaped on shore, and made it fast to the root of a willow which hung its broad branches over the river. The rest of the party then landed, and uncovering, saluted their commander, who returned their courtesy.
"'By ten o'clock you may expect me,' said Washington. 'Be cautious; look well that you are not surprised. These are no times for trifling.'
"'Depend on us,' replied one of the party.
"'I do,' he responded; and bidding them farewell, departed along the bank of the river.
"After continuing his path some distance along the river's side he struck off into a narrow road, bordered thickly with brushwood, tinged with a thousand dyes of departed summer; here and there a grey crag peeped out from the foliage, over which the green ivy and the scarlet woodbine hung in wreathy dalliance; at other places the arms of the chestnut and mountain ash met in lofty fondness, casting a gloom deep almost as night. Suddenly a crashing among the trees was heard, and like a deer an Indian girl bounded into the path, and stood full in his presence. He started back with surprise, laid his hand upon his sword—but the Indian only fell upon her knee, placed her finger on her lips, and by a sign with her hand forbade him to proceed.
"'What seek you, my wild flower,' said the General.
"She started to her feet, drew a small tomahawk from her belt of wampum, and imitated the act of scalping the enemy; then again waving her hand as forbidding him to advance, she darted into the bushes, leaving him lost in amazement.
"There is danger," said he to himself, after a short pause, and recovering from his surprise. "That Indian's manner betokens no good, but my trust is in God; he has never deserted me!" and, resuming the path, he shortly reached the mansion of Rufus Rugsdale.
"His appearance was the signal of joy among the party assembled, each of whom vied with the other to do him honour. Although grave in council, and bold in war, yet in the bosom of domestic bliss no one knew better how to render himself agreeable. The old were cheered by his consolatory word; the young by his mirthful manner; nor even in gallantry was he wanting, when it added to the cheerful spirit of the hour. The protestations of friendship and welcome were warmly tendered to him by his host. Fast and thick the guests were assembling; the laugh and mingling music rose joyously around. The twilight was fast emerging into night; but a thousand sparkling lamps of beauty gave a brilliancy of day to the scene; all was happiness; bright eyes and blooming aces were every where beaming; but alas! a serpent was lurking among the flowers.
"In the midst of the hilarity, the sound of a cannon burst upon the ear, startling the guests and suspending the dance. Washington and the officers looked at each other with surprise, but their fears were quickly dispelled by Rugsdale, who assured him it was only a discharge of ordnance in honour of his distinguished visitors. The joy of the moment was again resumed, but the gloom of suspicion had fallen upon the spirit of Washington, who sat in moody silence apart from the happy throng.
"A silent tap upon the shoulder aroused him from his abstraction, and looking up he perceived the person of the Indian standing in the shadow of a myrtle bush close to his side.
"'Ha! again here!' he exclaimed with astonishment; but she motioned him to be silent, and kneeling at his feet, presented him with a bouquet of flowers. Washington received it, and was about to place it in his breast, when she grasped him firmly by the arm, and pointing to it, said in a whisper 'Snake! Snake!' and the next moment mingled with the company, who appeared to recognise and welcome her as one well-known and esteemed.
"Washington regarded the bouquet with wonder; her words and singular appearance had, however, sunk deeper into his heart, and looking closer upon the nosegay, to his surprise he saw a small piece of paper in the midst of the flowers. Hastily he drew it forth, and confounded and horror-stricken, read, 'Beware! you are betrayed!' It was now apparent that he was within the den of the tiger; but to quit abruptly, might only draw the consummation of treachery the speedier upon his head. He resolved therefore that he would disguise his feelings, and trust to that Power which had never forsaken him. The festivities were again renewed, but almost momentarily interrupted by a second sound of the cannon. The guests now began to regard each other with distrust, while many and moody were the glances cast upon Rugsdale, whose countenance began to show symptoms of uneasiness, while ever and anon he looked from the window out upon the broad green lawn which extended to the river's edge, as if in expectation of some one's arrival.
"'What can detain them?' he muttered to himself. 'Can they have deceived me? Why answer they not the signal?' At that moment a bright flame rose from the river, illuminating, for a moment, the surrounding scenery, and showing a small boat filled with persons making rapidly towards the shore. 'All's well,' he continued; 'in three minutes I shall be the possessor of a coronet, and the cause of the Republic be no more.'
"Then gaily turning to Washington, he said, 'Come, General, pledge me to the success of your arms.' The eye of Rugsdale at that moment encountered the scrutinizing look of Washington, and sunk to the ground; his hand trembled violently, even to so great a degree as to partly spill the contents of the goblet. With difficulty he conveyed it to his lips—then retiring to the window, he waved his hand, which action was immediately responded to by a third sound of the cannon, at the same moment the English anthem of 'God save the King,' burst in full volume upon the ear, and a band of men attired in British uniform, with their faces hidden by masks, entered the apartment. The American officers drew their swords, but Washington, cool and collected, stood with his arms folded upon his breast, and quietly remarked to them, 'Be calm, gentlemen—this is an honour we did not anticipate.' Then, turning to Rugsdale, he said, 'Speak, sir, what does this mean?'
"'It means,' replied the traitor, (placing his hand upon the shoulder of Washington,) 'that you are my prisoner. In the name of King George, I arrest you.'
"'Never,' exclaimed the General. 'We may be cut to pieces, but surrender we will not. Therefore give way,' and he waved his sword to the guard who stood with their muskets levelled, as ready to fire, should they attempt to escape. In an instant were their weapons reversed, and, dropping their masks, to the horror of Rugsdale, and the agreeable surprise of Washington, his own brave party, whom he had left in charge of the barge, stood revealed before him.
"'Seize that traitor!' exclaimed the commander. 'In ten minutes from this moment let him be a spectacle between the heavens and the earth.' The wife and daughter clung to his knees in supplication, but an irrevocable oath had passed his lips that never should treason receive his forgiveness after that of the miscreant Arnold. 'For my own life,' he said, while tears rolled down his noble countenance at the agony of the wife and daughter: 'For my own life I heed not; but the liberty of my native land—the welfare of millions demand this sacrifice. For the sake of humanity, I pity him; but my oath is recorded, and now in the presence of Heaven, I swear I will not forgive him.'
"Like a thunderbolt fell these words upon the wife and daughter. They sank lifeless into the hands of the domestics, and when they had recovered to consciousness, Rugsdale had atoned for his treason by the sacrifice of his life.
"It appears that the Indian girl, who was an especial favourite and domesticated in the family, had overheard the intentions of Rugsdale to betray the American General, and other valuable officers, that evening, into the hands of the British, for which purpose they had been invited to this 'feast of Judas.' Hating, in her heart, the enemies of America, who had driven her tribe from their native forests, she resolved to frustrate the design, and consequently waylaid the steps of Washington, as we have described, but failing in her noble purpose, she had recourse to the party left in possession of the boat.
"Scarcely had she given the information, and night closed round, when a company of British soldiers were discovered making their way rapidly towards the banks of the Hudson, within a short distance of the spot where the American party was waiting the return of their commander. Bold in the cause of liberty, and knowing that immediate action alone could preserve him, they rushed upon and overpowered them, bound them hand and foot, placed them with their companions, and sent them to the American camp at West Point. Having disguised themselves in the habiliments of the enemy, they proceeded to the house of Rugsdale, where, at the appointed time and sign made known by the Indian, they opportunely arrived to the relief of Washington, and the confusion of the traitor."
"Who told you that story?" enquired Kinnison.
"An old friend of mine, named Buckram; he was one of the men who disguised themselves," replied Colson.
"I'm inclined to believe it's a tough yarn," said Kinnison. "It's true enough to the character of Washington. He never let his feelings swerve him from the strict line of duty. But all that stuff about the Indian girl is somebody's invention, or the most extraordinary thing of the kind I've heard tell of. I don't doubt your friend's veracity, but it's a tough yarn."
"Probable enough," remarked Hand.
"It's a very pretty story," said Ransom, "and I'm inclined to swallow it as truth."
"I'm satisfied of its truth," said Colson. "But I wouldn't ask any of you to believe it, if there's anything in it staggers you."
"I think Rugsdale was served as all such traitors in such times should be served," said Hanson. "Hurra! for Gineral Washington."
"Three cheers for General Washington!" suggested Hand, and the three cheers were given. A song was called for by several voices, and a young man volunteered to favour the company with "Liberty and Washington," the song which follows:—
When Freedom, from her starry home,
Look'd down upon the drooping world,
She saw a land of fairy bloom,
Where Ocean's sparkling billows curl'd;
The sunbeams kiss'd its mighty floods,
And verdure clad its boundless plains—
But floods and fields and leafy woods,
All wore alike a despot's chains!
"Be free!" she cried, "land of my choice;
Arise! and put thy buckler on;
Let every patriot raise his voice
For Liberty and Washington!"
The word went forth from hill to vale,
Each patriot heart leapt at the sound;
Proud Freedom's banner flapp'd the gale,
And Britain's chains fell to the ground.
Man stood erect in majesty,
The proud defender of his rights:
For where is he would not be free
From stern oppression's deadening blights!
Be free—be free then, happy land!
Forever beam the light that shone
Upon the firm and dauntless band,
Who fought beside our Washington!
Lo! where the forest's children rove
Midst woody hill and rocky glen,
Wild as the dark retreats they loved—
What now are towns were deserts then.
The world has marked her onward way,
Beneath the smile of Liberty;
And Fame records the glorious day
Which made the western empire free.
Be free—be free then, glorious land!
In union be thy millions one;
Be strong in friendship's holy band,
Thy brightest star—our Washington!
This song and the applause which succeeded wakened the sleeping fifer, Brown, who looked around him as if wondering where he was.
"Hallo, old boy," said Kinnison, "you look frightened. What's the matter with you?"
"I was dreaming," replied Brown. "I thought I was at the battle of Lexington, and the roar of the British guns was in my ears. But I find it is only the roar of your voices. Liberty and Washington was our war-cry on many a field, and I thought I heard it again."
"It was our peace cry," said Hand.
Some of the young men, we regret to say, were not members of any of the temperance societies; and as they had partaken freely of the stimulating beverages which had been called for, they were getting very noisy and losing much of that bashfulness which had hitherto kept them silent. In this state of things, Mr. Hand was forced to entreat one of the veterans to amuse them with some interesting incidents of the Revolution.
"There was a British officer, whose career has often interested me," said Hand, "and that was Colonel Tarleton. He was a daring, fiery soldier, according to the accounts of him; but a savage man."
THE CRUELTY OF TARLETON
"Tarleton was a regular blood-hound," said Pitts, "A savage, though among civilized men. I always admired his fiery spirit and daring courage, but never could regard him as a civilized warrior. I'll tell you of an instance in which Tarleton displayed his character in full. I had a Tory relative in North Carolina, who died not long ago. When Colonel Tarleton was encamped west of the Haw River, Cornwallis received information that Lee's fiery Legion had recrossed the Dan, cut up several detachments of Tories, and was scouring the neighbouring country in search of parties of the enemy. The British general immediately sent information to Colonel Tarleton, to warn him to guard against surprise. My Tory relative was the messenger, and he told me about what he saw at Tarleton's camp.
"As soon (says the old Tory) as I came in view of the British lines, I hastened to deliver myself up to the nearest patrol, informing him that I was the bearer of important despatches from Lord Cornwallis to Colonel Tarleton. The guard was immediately called out, the commander of which taking me in charge, carried me at once to Tarleton's marquee. A servant informed him of my arrival, and returned immediately with the answer that his master would see me after a while, and that in the mean time I was to await his pleasure where I then was. The servant was a grave and sedate looking Englishman, between 50 and 60 years of age, and informed me that he had known Colonel Tarleton from his earliest youth, having lived for many years in the family of his father, a worthy clergyman, at whose particular request he had followed the Colonel to this country, with the view that, if overtaken by disease and suffering in his headlong career, he might have some one near him who had known him ere the pranksome mischief of the boy had hardened into the sterner vices of the man. 'He was always a wild blade, friend,' (said the old man) 'and many a heart-ache has he given us all, but he'll mend in time, I hope." Just then my attention was arrested by the violent plungings of a horse, which two stout grooms, one on each side, were endeavouring to lead to the spot where we were standing. He was a large and powerful brute, beautifully formed, and black as a crow, with an eye that seemed actually to blaze with rage, at the restraint which was put upon him. His progress was one continued bound, at times swinging the grooms clear from the earth, as lightly as though they were but tassels hung on to the huge Spanish bit, so that with difficulty they escaped being trampled under foot. I asked the meaning of the scene, and was informed that the horse was one that Tarleton had heard of as being a magnificent animal, but one altogether unmanageable; and so delighted was he with the description, that he sent all the way down into Moore County where his owner resided, and purchased him at the extravagant price of one hundred guineas; and that moreover, he was about to ride him that morning. 'Ride him?' said I, 'why one had as well try to back a streak of lightning!—the mad brute will certainly be the death of him.' 'Never fear for him,' said my companion; 'never fear for him, his time has not come yet.' By this time the horse had been brought up to where we were; the curtain of the marquee was pushed aside and my attention was drawn from the savage stud, to rivet itself upon his dauntless rider. And a picture of a man he was. Rather below the middle height, and with a face almost femininely beautiful, Tarleton possessed a form that was a model of manly strength and vigor. Without a particle of superfluous flesh, his rounded limbs and full broad chest seemed moulded from iron, yet at the same time displaying all the elasticity which usually accompanies elegance of proportion. His dress (strange as it may appear) was a jacket and breeches of white linen, fitted to his form with the utmost exactness. Boots of Russet leather were half-way up the leg, the broad tops of which were turned down, and the heels garnished with spurs of an immense size and length of rowel. On his head was a low-crowned hat curiously formed from the snow white-feathers of the swan; and in his hand he carried a heavy scourge, with shot well twisted into its knotted lash. After looking round for a moment or two, as though to command the attention of all, he advanced to the side of the horse, and disdaining the use of the stirrup, with one bound threw himself into the saddle, at the same time calling on the grooms to let him go. For an instant the animal seemed paralyzed; then, with a perfect yell of rage, bounded into the air like a stricken deer.
"The struggle for the mastery had commenced—bound succeeded bound with the rapidity of thought; every device which its animal instinct could teach, was resorted to by the maddened brute to shake off its unwelcome burthen—but in vain. Its ruthless rider proved irresistible—and, clinging like fate itself, plied the scourge and rowel like a fiend. The punishment was too severe to be long withstood, and at length, after a succession of frantic efforts, the tortured animal, with a scream of agony, leaped forth upon the plain and flew across it with the speed of an arrow. The ground upon which Tarleton had pitched his camp was an almost perfectly level plain, something more than half a mile in circumference.
"Around this, after getting him under way, he continued to urge his furious steed, amid the raptures and shouts of the admiring soldiery, plying the whip and spur at every leap, until wearied and worn down with its prodigious efforts, the tired creature discontinued all exertion, save that to which it was urged by its merciless rider.
"At length, exhausted from the conflict, Tarleton drew up before his tent and threw himself from his saddle. The horse was completely subdued, and at the word of command followed him like a dog. The victory was complete. His eye of fire was dim and lustreless—drops of agony fell from his drooping front, while from his labouring and mangled sides the mingled blood and foam poured in a thick and clotted stream. Tarleton himself was pale as death, and as soon as he was satisfied with his success, retired and threw himself on his couch. In a short time I was called into his presence and delivered my despatches. Immediate orders were issued to make preparation for a return to Hillsborough, so soon as all the scouts had come in; and the next morning early found us again beyond the Haw River—and in good time, too, for as the last files were emerging from the stream, the advance of Lee's Legion appeared on the opposite bank, and, with a shout of disappointed rage, poured a volley into the ranks of the retreating columns.
"I have witnessed many stirring scenes," said the old man, "both during the Revolution and since, but I never saw one half so exciting as the strife between that savage man and savage horse."
"It was almost equal to Alexander and Buce—Buce—Alexander the Great, and that wild horse you know he tamed when a boy—what was its name?" said Kinnison.
"Bucephalus," said Hand.
"That's the name," said Kinnison. "Tarleton was more savage, however, than even that conqueror."
"The same relative told me of several other instances in which Tarleton displayed his savage and merciless nature," said Pitts. "After the fall of Charleston, a young man named Stroud, who had taken a British protection, resumed arms in defence of his country. Shortly after, Tarleton captured him, and without any shadow of a trial, hung him up by the public road, with a label attached to his back, announcing that such should be the fate of the man who presumed to cut him down. The body was exposed in that manner for more than three weeks, when the sister of the young man ventured out, cut the body down and gave it decent burial. At another time, a young man named Wade, who had been induced to join Tarleton's Legion, deserted, to unite with his countrymen. He was taken, tried and sentenced to receive a thousand lashes. Of course the poor fellow died under the punishment."
"The wretch!" said Hand. "I suppose if he had fallen into the hands of our men, they would have strung him up without mercy."
"He never would have fallen alive into the hands of our men," replied Pitts. "Such men know that they must expect vengeance. He came near losing his life in various battles. At Cowpens, Colonel Washington cut him with his sabre, and would have killed him, if be had turned and fought like a man; at the Waxhaws, Captain Adam Wallace made a thrust at Tarleton that would have done for him, if a British trooper had not struck Wallace to the earth just at the time."
"There were many Tarletons among the enemy," said Colson, as "far as cruelty is considered, but most of them lacked his activity, and were therefore less formidable."
"It seemed," said Pitts, "as if Tarleton never aimed to win merely, but to destroy. He said that severity alone could establish the regal authority in America. If a party of Americans were surprised, they were not made prisoners, but slaughtered while asking for quarter. He was a tiger that was never satisfied until he had mangled and devoured his enemy." And so the veterans went on, talking of the cruelties of Tarleton, giving his character no more quarter than he had given his unfortunate prisoners.
"There was another British officer, up in these parts, who was nearly equal to Tarleton," said Davenport. "I mean General Grey—the man who massacred our men at Paoli and Tappan. Both these were night-attacks, it is true, and we always expect bloody work on such an occasion. But it is known that our men were bayoneted while calling for quarter, which can't be justified. Did Wayne slaughter the enemy at Stony Point? No; he spared them, although they were the men who had acted otherwise at Paoli."
"Grey was known as the no-quarter General, I believe," said Hand.
"Yes," said Davenport; "and he was always selected to do the bloodiest work—the hangman of the enemy, as we might say."
"Hang Tarleton and Grey," said Hand. "Tell us something of our own men. Did either of you ever see Henry Lee? he was always one of my favourite heroes."