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.”