The Boy Spies of Philadelphia

So far as Enoch could learn, the commissioners did nothing save allow themselves to be entertained by the officers and Tory families. Congress refused to receive them until after the "hostile fleets and armies had been withdrawn, or the independence of the United States acknowledged," and, so far as advancing the king's cause was concerned, they might as well have remained at home.

Another week passed in what to Enoch seemed like idleness, and then Greene electrified him by announcing:

"Within a few days we shall see stirring times, and you will have no further cause to complain that you are doing nothing."

"What have you heard?"

"Nothing; but I have noticed that preparations are being quietly made for a general move – "

"I can't see that there has been any change."

"Nothing to particularly attract attention, I'll admit; yet it is a fact that the troops are nearly ready to evacuate the city, or make a forced march to Valley Forge for the purpose of attacking our camp."

"Is it possible General Clinton would do that?"

"It is possible, but not probable. My idea is that the Britishers will leave this city bag and baggage before we're many days older."

"I don't understand why they should."

"It is feared by the enemy that General Washington may strike a blow at New York, and Clinton's troops are needed there to prevent a possible disaster. Then again they are accomplishing nothing here, and the British government don't relish the idea of paying twelve or fifteen thousand men for holding a town which is of no real benefit, save as a loafing-place for the officers."

"If they evacuate this city will they be allowed to go away without being molested?"

"I think we can trust General Washington to take care of them, and when you see the redcoats start you can be mighty certain a battle ain't far off."

"And I won't be in it!" Enoch exclaimed mournfully. "Seth and Jacob will play the part of soldiers, while I hang around here as if I was afraid."

"I promise faithfully that you shall be in the thick of any scrimmage that comes, so don't let such thoughts worry you. Have patience a few days longer, and keep your eyes open wider than usual."

"Is there anything in particular to be done?"

"Loiter around the City Tavern as much as possible. The officers may give their friends an idea of what is going to happen, and you stand a good chance of overhearing the gossip. The lightest hint now from a prominent Tory will have a big meaning."

From this moment it appeared to Enoch as if he could perceive a change of demeanor in those whom he met. The British officers no longer sauntered to and fro as if time hung heavily on their hands, but went from point to point rapidly, much as though they had business which would permit of no delay.

The Tories, who during the winter had assumed a lordly bearing, now looked anxious, and well they might, for their lot would not be an enviable one when the Continental army stood in the place of the redcoats, and those who had been oppressed because of loyalty to the cause would be in a position to demand reprisals.

It seemed to the boy as if nearly all whom he saw were aware of the impending change, and he went about his business of listening with more confidence than ever before.

On the night after his last conversation with Greene he saw an unusually large throng in front of the City Tavern, and, as a matter of course, pretended to be on the point of entering the building in order that he might mingle with the bystanders.

Ordinarily he would have moved slowly onward to prevent any one from suspecting he really wished to listen, but on this night, excited beyond the bounds of prudence, he deliberately halted in front of a group composed of two officers, a citizen, and a Quaker who had the appearance of having just come from the country.

"The fact is known to but few, and we depend upon our friends in whom we have confided to keep it a secret," one of the officers was saying as Enoch approached.

"There is little doubt but that thy plans are known to the rebel Washington, for his men are ready to execute a quick movement," the Quaker replied. "It is to be regretted that any of the citizens were trusted with thy secret, for all are not loyal to the king."

"Very true, friend Williams; there are more of King George's enemies in Philadelphia to-day than there were two weeks ago. The belief that his majesty's troops are about to leave has made those who had a leaning toward the rebels brave, and they now hope to find favor in the eyes of the new rulers of the city."

"Has the day been fixed upon?" the man in citizen's garb asked, and Enoch pressed yet nearer to hear the reply.

So eager was the boy to learn this most important bit of information that he gave no heed to the fact he was pressing against the Quaker more rudely than would have been proper even if they had been crowded for space, and before the officer could speak Enoch was seized suddenly by the ear.

Looking up quickly and in alarm, he saw that his captor was the Quaker, and now for the first time realized that the man's face was one he had seen before, although where he could not remember.

"Thou art an eavesdropper, lad, and one who makes it his calling, if I do not mistake," the Quaker said sternly. "What business hast thou here?"

"I was going into the tavern, sir," Enoch replied, his cheeks crimsoning with shame, and then he tried to wrench himself free regardless of the pain, for he recognized in his captor that Quaker at whose house General Lafayette had established his headquarters on Barren Hill.

"Thou wast not thinking of going into the tavern – at least, not until thou hadst learned the purport of our conversation. Have I not seen thee before?"

"I have always lived in this city, and it may have been that you and I have passed each other on the street," Enoch replied, with much stammering and show of confusion.

"I have seen thee elsewhere, lad. Unless I much mistake thou wast one who brought to the rebel Lafayette, when he was in my house, word that General Howe had started in pursuit of him."

"What is that?" one of the officers asked quickly, stepping in front of Enoch to peer into his face. "Are you certain this boy carried that information, Friend Williams?"

"It may be I am mistaken; but it does not seem possible. The lad much resembled this one; I saw him only for a moment, yet then I had a full view of his face."

By this time several of the gentlemen nearest had gathered around to learn the cause of the disturbance, for all, even including the Quaker, were displaying considerable excitement, and Enoch was so hemmed in that escape seemed impossible.

"It should be a simple matter to ascertain if he is in the rebel service," the second officer suggested. "A squad of our men chased two boys on that night, and, so it was reported, wounded or killed one of them. We will send this fellow to the guard-house until he has been seen by all. I would like to get hold of a few spies before we leave the city."

Enoch knew that even if those who had chased Jacob and himself failed to identify him, there were very many British soldiers, as well as officers, who knew him as one suspected of aiding Seth to escape, and that his doom was sealed once he was in custody.

It was absolutely necessary, if he would save his life, to make a supreme effort to get free before a squad of soldiers could be summoned, and even though he should fail, his position would be no more desperate than it already was.

The Quaker still retained his hold of the boy's ear, and one of the officers was grasping him by the collar, while on every side the throng was so dense that there appeared little hope he could force his way through, even though no one tried to detain him.

It was, perhaps, because of this fact that the officer's hold was by no means firm; but the Quaker was clutching his ear as if anticipating an attempt at escape.

The gentleman in the broad-brimmed hat was, therefore, the greatest obstacle in Enoch's road to freedom, and he it was who must be vanquished before further move could be made.

One of the officers had gone in search of the guard, and Enoch resolved on making a desperate effort.

Hanging back as far as possible in order to give greater effect to the blow, he suddenly lowered his head and darted forward at full speed.

The Quaker was taken by surprise, and could make no effort to protect himself. Enoch launched against him with all his strength, bringing forth a shrill cry of pain as the man of peace was doubled up like a pocket-knife, giving the boy an opportunity to leap directly over him.

Two other men were thrown down, and those who had been on the outskirts of the throng rushed quickly toward the immediate scene of action, thereby preventing the officer and his companion from giving chase.

Enoch ran as he had never run before, knowing full well that his life depended upon fleetness of foot, and before the excited men were fully aware of what had happened he was out of sight around the corner.

A pile of logs an hundred yards distant seemed to offer a temporary hiding-place, the whole being stacked up so loosely that he could readily make his way among them, and here he crouched, understanding that if he threw the pursuers off the scent now there was a fair possibility of escaping.

Nothing could have been done better on Enoch's part.

Such of the throng as were first around the corner shouted that the boy had taken refuge in the rear of the house, as seemed to be the case since he was no longer in sight, and the building was instantly invaded by a mob eager to hunt down a spy.