The Heavens Shall Fall (29 page)

Gabriel didn
’t have time to answer. From the corner of his eye, Jonathan caught sight of a group of men walking down the road. He nodded toward the movement.

“
Looks as though we have company.”

“
They are my men.”

Jonathan took comfort in Gabriel
’s words as a cluster of a half-dozen men walked up the road, ragged and scruffy with muskets in hand.

Gabriel reined his horse around to face the group and barked out,
“Captain Romer, I thought you patrolling down at Buttermilk Hill.”

“
Yes, Lieutenant,” a skinny man with a large scar on his chin responded. He pointed back at a man straggling behind. “We found Paulding wandering along the road from Tarrytown. He escaped from the damn Brits. Hurt himself.”

The men gathered around a rather huge, formidable man, who appeared to be injured. Grimacing with clenched teeth, he held his arm against his chest awkwardly.

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at Jonathan.

“
I will see to him.” Jonathan dismounted and walked toward the injured man. “I am a physician for the Continental Army. I’ll take a look at your shoulder if you allow.”

“
He’s one of the best,” Gabriel said from behind him. “An old friend.”

“
Hurts bad, Doc…”

“
Corbett. Dr. Corbett.” Jonathan motioned the man back to a fallen tree. “Why don’t you sit and I will take a look. Can you get out of that coat?”

Jonathan watched one of the other men help Paulding out of a heavy regimental coat, green in color with red facing. He had seen it often on the backs of the enemy, Hessian soldiers.

“Be damn careful, Williams,” Paulding snapped. “Don’t think you’re going to sneak off with my new coat! Spoils of war!”

“
Hold steady, now. I’m going to examine your shoulder.” His skilled hands felt an indentation through his hunting shirt. “It’s what I thought. A dislocated shoulder. You had a fall?”

Paulding nodded.
“The Brits imprisoned me in the Sugar House. Slipped out a window, I did. Wasn’t going to go to the
Jersey
or worse. Take my chances. I leaped, falling and rolling onto the street. It’s when I hurt my shoulder.”

“
I know the feeling.” Jonathan maneuvered the man to his side and motioned to his friend. “Hold him. This is going to hurt.”

Jonathan gripped the wrist of Paulding.
“Don’t move.”

With both his hands
, he pulled downward in a firm fashion and ignored the man’s swears. He pulled until he felt a pop and then he released the arm.

“
By golly!” Paulding exclaimed with the sudden relief from the pain. He gripped his shoulder and shrugged it slightly, amazed it seemed to work properly. “You’re a miracle worker, Doc. Many thanks.”

“
Think nothing of it. Expect it to be sore, but you will be able to use it normally.” Jonathan stepped back and wiped his sweaty hands on his breeches. “So you were a prisoner of war?”

“
Not sure and wasn’t going to stay around and find out what they charged me with.” Paulding shook his head. “I went to see my girl. It was her brother who turned me in to the Brits. The fuckin’ Redcoats threw me into the Sugar House without a word. Made a friend in my cell. He’s the one who tole me.”

“
Told you what?”

“
He said ’em Brits treated another prisoner like me. Didn’t say a word to him to the day they came in the cell and dragged him out. Called him a spy and took him into the
last
room.”

“
I’ve never heard of the
last
room…”

“
A room where they got the gallows set up in the warehouse. The prisoners think that they’re being taken to the prison ship, but they ain’t. Don’t have no time to prepare. Don’t know which is worse. A slow agonizing death or one where you don’t see it coming.

“
But I didn’t want a part of either. Was no small thing to slip through that window for me, but wasn’t gonna sit around and wait for ’em damn Redcoats to hang me.”

“
How the hell did ya of all people slip out a window?” Williams challenged.

“
Climbed up, kicked it out and leaped. Rolled along the street, scrambled up and ran. I hid in the stables where a group of Hessians were drinking and playing cards. I stole one of their coats. Big enough, too, it is. Like I said, spoils of war.”

“
And you walked right out of New York.”

Paulding took his coat back.
“Saved me, it did. Nobody said a word to me with it on. I just kept on walking and didn’t look back.”

Jonathan took the coat and helped the large man ease his arms into it once more.
“Take care, my friend, that someone doesn’t take you for the enemy.”

“
Not any from around here. They all know who I am.”

Jonathan wanted to add that it would be hard to give up a warm coat. Like most in the militia in this area, the man was more likely to be a small farmer who had suffered from the war. Hard to make a living with the Cowboys ruining laid fields while you
’re patrolling the border.

“
Then wear it proudly.” Jonathan patted his back. “You’ve been given a second chance. Use it well.”

“
Tell ya’, Doc, n’ver prayed like I did when I was in there. Someone looked after me.”

“
Then perhaps you have a destiny to fulfill.”

Paulding looked back at Jonathan oddly.
“You believe in that stuff—destiny…fate?”

“
I believe in God and that there is a purpose for each of us.”

“
Do ya think?”

“
Without question. It has been said that this war has tried our souls. Sacrifices had and have to be made. We need only to hold to our commitment to our cause. We can’t let those who have fallen before us die without meaning. They gave their lives for us to have this chance.”

“
Lately, I’ve been thinking only about making it to the next day, Doc.”

Jonathan smiled.
“Of course. I’m sorry I went on a rant. It is only I, too, have only been recently released from the Brits. I was in Charles Town when it fell. I thought I would never see another sunset. I was at the lowest I have ever been in my life.

“
I thought I had failed my wife, my children, and…my father who gave his life for this cause. But somehow I was given a second chance. It made me see we choose our own destiny. I believe in our cause and wherever that belief takes me, I will go.”

“
Do you…do you, Doc, believe that someone like me has a destiny?”

Jonathan nodded.
“Is that not what we are fighting for? For everyone to have that right. Yes, Paulding, I believe you have a destiny. We all do.”

“
Gentlemen,” said General Henry Clinton. “We are on the verge of handing the Americans a devastating blow. Each move we make now has to be made with caution and thought. The Americans public chest is empty. Their currency almost worthless. The bulk of their people are weary of war. The army itself is no more than the ragtag undisciplined mess it always has been: ill-paid, ill-fed, and ill-clad. Regiment after regiment is rising in mutiny. There never has been a better time than now to deliver the final blow.

“
King George wants nothing more than a complete and utter victory. This we will accomplish. The South is ours. Moreover, I am confident the whole of the rebellion will fall with the deliverance of West Point. The reduction of their most vital point along the Hudson will not only demoralize the troops, but with the turning of their greatest general, all hope will be lost. To accomplish this without loss of life will be a triumph for the ages and the most brilliant conclusion to this campaign.”

A light round of applause greeted the announcement.
The need for secrecy dictated there were few to hear the general’s account: only Andre, Colonel Beverly Robinson, and Marcus. Robinson, a gentleman of high standing with both the Patriots and Loyalists, had been instrumental in the whole of the mission. A trustworthy man, he had been in on it from the beginning.

Marcus drew in a breath and relaxed. He had been recalled to New York for this moment. He had never seen the serious general so optimistic, almost downright giddy with anticipation. The details and plans had all been settled.

Clinton had demanded the last negotiations be done swiftly and Arnold answered readily he was committed. He asked only for a final interview with Andre.

Over the last few months, Andre had in fact met with Arnold twice. This last meeting had been met with opposition from Clinton and himself. Marcus had long sided with Clinton about the need for caution and profound secrecy. The mission to this point had progressed quite smoothly and the finality was at hand.

Marcus saw no purpose to Arnold’s meeting with Andre. It could be done as in the past through couriers, but Marcus saw a light in Andre’s eyes when Arnold had delayed their meeting because General Washington was in the area and was to meet with Arnold within the next few days.

“
Be wary, Andre. Do not lose sight of our goal,” Marcus warned, but he recognized that Andre had other ideas, which included more than the seizure of West Point.

“
Ah, my friend, you have become the cautious one,” Andre said. “There is no harm to look into the prospect of all our opportunities. Fear not. I will not do anything foolish. I have come too far to lose what is in my grasp.”

Marcus understood. He
and Clinton had discussed the accolades that would befall Andre upon his conclusion of this mission and the promise of the end of the war, among them a baronetcy. Marcus promised his support. Andre would deserve nothing less.

“
I have no doubt,” Marcus conceded. “I wish only I could go with you, but Robinson is a good man.”

“
Then I will be in good hands,” Andre said. “This is a simple mission. We have been on ones much more dangerous.”

“
But never with the stakes so high.”

Andre
’s eyes gleamed. “I have my orders. I will keep to them.”

“
Do so and I will give you a celebration larger than Colonel Williams’ last night.”

“
It was a grand time,” Andre said. “I cannot imagine a finer night.”

“
I admit I was surprised to see Mrs. Millbury on your arm last night. You have settled your issues with her?”

“
I can say with confidence that I have. I discovered the best solution is to keep her by my side.”

Marcus wanted to press the matter, but thought better of it. Andre had been certain
Susanna had taken the letters from Stansbury. So certain he had her placed under house arrest. Though, Marcus reasoned that there had been no evidence that there had been a leak. The mission had proceeded without any issues.

The
Susanna he once knew would not have been capable of such a deception, but he had learned over the years never to discount anyone. Then there was the rumor abounding that the fair Mrs. Millbury was increasing.

If that was the case, Andre would never marry the lady. No, the man was too ambitious by half, but then again he would never abandon her either. If the brilliant sapphire necklace around her neck last night was any indication, it would seem the two had come upon an agreement of sorts.

“The heavens are indeed smiling down upon you, Andre. Go. Carry out your mission and the war will be ours.”

* * * *

Bitter disappointment! Midnight had come and gone, the time appointed for their meeting. The day that held such promise had faded into the twilight.

Andre paced within his cabin on board the
Vulture,
which had anchored in Haverstraw Bay within the Hudson’s highlands. He listened anxiously for the sound of splashing oars that did not come. His nerves frayed with the morning sun. Arnold had not appeared.

What could have gone wrong! Clinton expected him back in New York. Disappoint
ment filled him. He would not go back a failure. Never! He needed another night. He sat and wrote a note to Clinton, feigning illness to allow the mission to continue.

* *
* *

Andre stood with his back to the window of the upper room. Dawn would break over the horizon soon enough. He glanced over at his companion, General Benedict Arnold.

He had made concessions in the mission, but as he looked over the final papers, it would be well worth it…if he now made it back to the
Vulture
.

General Arnold had never made it to their assigned
destination. Instead, Arnold had sent a courier, a one Joshua Hett Smith, to escort Andre to him. Andre knew of Smith’s brother, a Loyalist Chief Justice in New York, and another who lived in London. This man, though, was a known sympathizer with the Patriot cause and not one previously aware of the situation.

Despite a warning from Colonel Robinson, Andre chose to trust Arnold
’s judgment and left with the man without Robinson. The rowboat took Andre to Smith’s home, a two-story stone house two and a half miles from Stony Brook. There he found Arnold.

Within Smith
’s home, the night progressed, the agreement solidified. The final obstacle, the monetary agreement, had been sealed. Arnold had handed over detailed information on West Point: list of the garrison’s strengths, the number to defend each position, the caliber and quantity of the fort’s ordinance, the artillery commander’s plan…and Washington’s military intentions.

A plan had been laid to take West Point. Arnold had caused a breach in the wall at Fort Putnam, a section large enough for a regiment. A debarkation at Kosciusko
’s Landing would ensure the water assault and a short surrender.

Andre
’s instincts strove to capture General Washington when the general arrived at West Point. Did they not know the date he would be present? Clinton rejected the idea on his departure. Arnold had echoed the sentiment. Too many variables. Nothing came before the primary mission. Much to his chagrin, Andre agreed the plan held too much risk.

Instead, the plan forged dictated Arnold to call for reinforcements when Clinton attacked West Point. A special unit would be prepared to overtake the regiments
, which would no doubt be led by General Washington himself. Thus ending the war!

“
Come, Major Andre, have a light breakfast and I will prepare for you to row back out to the
Vulture
. You will be in New York by evening with the good news,” General Arnold said. “I will see you off.”

“
But of course,” Andre said. He turned back toward his host, but the corner of his eye caught sight on an explosion on the river.

“
Good God!” Andre said in a stricken voice. “Oh, dear God! You Americans are bombarding the
Vulture
!”

“
Calm yourself, Major. It would be Colonel Livingston. He has only puny four pounders. It can do no damage.”

From the distance
came another explosion, this one much louder. Andre faced Arnold, who had made his way to the window. “Then your colonel must have replaced them for I believe they are at least six pounders.” The river flared once more with a brilliant blaze. He tried to contain his anger over the sorry turn of affairs. He grimaced. “It seems he has also added a howitzer.”

Incredulously,
Andre helplessly watched the continuous bombardment until the
Vulture
upped its anchor and sailed downstream.

“
Distressful,” Arnold acknowledged. “But not without its remedy. Have faith, Major Andre. I will get you to New York.”

*
* * *

Andre sat upon a mount General Arnold had supplied. He waited only on Smith and his man to guide him down to New York by land. Arnold had given him a signed pass. He wished only to begin the journey.

“You should not be bothered along the way, not with your pass, Major,” Arnold stated. “Mr. Smith will escort you.”

“
But my uniform?”

“
Unfortunate,” Smith said. “It will not do at all to travel in a British officer’s uniform. You will not be able to conceal it under your coat.”

“
Then what pray would you have me do?”

* * * *

Late in the afternoon, Andre reined back his horse. His mood had greatly improved. The journey had gone uneventfully despite his sleepless night. The day and a half he had spent with Smith was about to come to an end. New York lay only ten miles to the south.

The nightmare of the night before faded…of death and shame. He had lived his life for this moment. He would not fail.

The whirlwind of danger he had been sucked into had eased. The fear of detection lessened. The whole of his life flashed before him. He had come precariously close to losing the fortune and fame that was within his grasp. Before him lay glory, fame, and the happiness he sought for his family…his mother.

“
This is where we shall part, Mr. Anderson,” Smith said. “We are at Croton, neutral ground. Stay on the road and you will be there before dinner.”

Andre knew the land before him. At one time, the land had been fruitful and peaceful
; now it lay in ruins. Most of the farmers had left the area. No crops could be harvested, not with the Cowboys and Skinners. The fields had been left untended; orchards ignored with rotted fruit fallen on the ground. No, it was not the place it once was; it was not a safe region.

“
My thanks,” Andre replied. “I will make haste.”

Andre trotted over Pine
’s Bridge. He glanced over his shoulder. He saw Smith and his servant had given no hesitation and had already headed back north. He was alone. He trudged onward.

He paused only at a farm to ask for water. A
young lad held his horse while he drank.

“
How far is Tarrytown?”

“
Four miles ahead, sir, if you stay on the road.”

“
Ah, I did not think it that far.”

As he took
his reins back, he heard horses approach. He looked upward at the riders; his heart was in his throat. American soldiers! A group of six riders. One slowed and stared. Andre felt the hair on his back stand straight up. He recognized the officer, having met on one occasion…a Colonel Webb.

Andre breathed again as the officers hasten
ed their pace. Safe…once more. By Jove, his luck was holding! He mounted. He tipped his hat to the boy, thanked him and rode toward Tarrytown.

No more than a mile outside Tarrytown, Andre came upon a bridge. The brook flowed through a ravine covered in overgrowth of bush. His horse had taken no more than a few steps upon the bridge when three men sprang out from behind a large oak.

Taken by surprise, Andre reared back on his horse.

“
Hold, good sir. I need your name and destination.” The large one held a musket aimed at Andre.

“
Ah, lads.” Andre smiled suddenly, noticing the coat the man wore. Hessian. “It seems we are with the same party.”

“
And that would be?”

“
The lower party.”

The man pressed his lips together in a thoughtful manner,
and then nodded. “But of course.”

Andre sighed with relief. Exultation assaulted him. Finally, he had made it. He needed only to get to General Clinton.

“Thank God! I am once more among friends! I need not to be detained, but to get within New York with all speed. I am a British officer.”

He pulled out his gold watch of standing to verify his statement.
As he brought his gaze upwards, he froze. The men’s expressions altered. Immediately, he realized his mistake. They were not British.