At a few words from his friends, George Prentiss was released; but Hickey and some others who had been taken were marched to a place of security and put under guard.

Next day all was in a turmoil; the Tories in and about the city feared for their lives. As Nat Brewster had predicted, Matthews, the mayor of New York, was arrested by a detachment of Greene’s brigade; his house and person were searched, but no incriminating papers were found. Those of the Tories who had prepared for an outbreak fled, upon learning that their leaders had been taken.

Washington struck swiftly and strongly; those of the plotters who belonged to the army were at once brought before a courtmartial; the others were handed over to the civic power. Of the members of the general’s guard taken, only Hickey was convicted; he was promptly hanged on June 28th.

On the day following this execution, a lookout on Staten Island reported a fleet of forty sail in sight. The news quickly spread and the city, not yet recovered from the shock of the Tory conspiracy, was wild with excitement once more.

The fleet proved to be from Halifax, and carried some ten thousand of the troops which Washington had only recently driven out of Boston; also there were six transports, having on board some regiments of Highlanders which had joined the fleet at sea.

At sight of this formidable armament heading up the bay, Washington’s couriers were sent dashing here and there with the news, warning all the commanders along the Hudson to hold themselves in readiness in case the British should attempt to push their war-ships up the river. But there was no such attempt. Day after day, however, the fleet was increased; not long afterward there were one hundred and thirty men-of-war and transports in the bay; the troops were disembarked and the hillsides of Staten Island were whitened with their tents.

This force was under the command of Howe, and Washington watched it anxiously, knowing that the British general awaited only the coming of the admiral, his brother, to begin operations. Young Cooper carried a message to the President of Congress, urging the Massachusetts authorities to send its quota of continental troops to New York; the formation of a flying camp of ten thousand men in the Jerseys, to be used wherever required, was also advised. Recruits began to pour into the city; upon every open space they could be seen going through the manual of arms.

One afternoon, George, who had carried a dispatch summoning General Greene to headquarters, was riding with that officer across a stretch of fields beyond Broadway. A company of provincial artillery were drilling; and the deftness of their work, the smooth, capable manners of their commander, a small-sized youth of about twenty, attracted the general’s attention. Quick to recognize ability, the general pulled up and sat his horse, watching the proceedings, and during a pause he inquired the officer’s name.

The youth saluted.

“Alexander Hamilton,” he replied. “A student at King’s College.”

And it was that same evening, just at twilight, that George was pacing along Maiden Lane near to William Street, his hands behind him and his head bent. He still frequently rode and walked in that neighborhood; always did he grow thoughtful when there, and always upon the same subject. That Herbert Camp had been recognized by no one but himself that night at Corbie’s tavern was evident, as no search had been made for him; but George was puzzled to know if he and his sister had come off unhurt in the rain of pistol shots that followed the dash from the tavern.

“Neither of them could have been grievously injured,” he mused. “If they had been, they would have more than likely not have made off so quickly.”

But it was Peggy’s attitude that occupied him more than anything else.

“ALEXANDER HAMILTON,”
HE REPLIED

“Now, why,” the young man mutely demanded, “should she so set herself to insult me? How have I deserved it? Is there one thing which I have done since I came to New York and which touched her in any way, that has not been in the nature of a service? On the wharf where the ‘Nancy Breen’ tied up, I lent a helping hand to her uncle. And she recognized it as such, for a few hours later when those popinjays on the Parade sought to make me a butt for their wit, she was kind. I helped her brother out of a tight place at the ‘Wheat Sheaf’; and even then she seemed to show appreciation, for she warned me against a mysterious danger. Once more at Corbie’s I try to serve her; and she turns upon me like a fury.”

He was still fuming along with bent head when he felt a hand laid upon his shoulder.

“Your pardon, young sir, if I am mistaken,” spoke a voice; “but it seems to me that I should know you.”

It was Merchant Camp, and the young New Englander, freeing himself from his exasperating thoughts, smiled as he answered:

“I had the pleasure of meeting you one morning, sir, on the river front, when a certain sailorman differed with your political beliefs.”

The stout old Tory burst into a laugh; red-faced and gasping a little, he patted George on the shoulder.

“Right!” cried he. “Right, lad! So it was. I knew, the moment I put eyes on you, that you were one that I should not pass as a stranger. I suppose,” inquiringly, “that I thanked you at the time? Yes? Well and good. But I will also thank you now.” He shook George warmly by the hand. “It was no light thing to do, sir, to lend a hand to a king’s man in New York at this time. It was indeed a matter of some risk. And the deeper the chance you ran, the greater is my obligation.”

“The political side of the incident did not occur to me, Mr. Camp,” said the youth. “I only saw that you’d be outmatched in a game of buffets, that was all.”

“He was a sturdy rascal, to be sure,” replied the old merchant. “But take ten years off my age and I’d ask no odds of him.” He looked at George for a moment, and his big red face wrinkled with smiles. “That was a rare drubbing you gave him,” chuckled he. “But come,” after a moment. “I have yet to hear your name.”

“George Prentiss,” replied the young man. “I am from Boston.”

“Prentiss—Boston!” The merchant looked at him with fresh interest. “Can it be possible that you are kin to Seth Prentiss of that city?”

“I am his grandson,” answered George.

“Grandson!” The old man grasped his hand firmly and his broad face beamed with good will. “His grandson, do you say! Well, well, here’s a circumstance, indeed! Why, then, you are own cousin to my niece Peggy and my nephew Herbert. Their mother was your mother’s younger sister. Surely you’ve heard her mention us.”

“Frequently, sir.”

“And still you never made yourself known,” inquiringly.

“There were reasons, sir. You see, in times like these——”

The old gentleman did not allow him to proceed further.

“I understand,” said he. “Nothing can be done straightforwardly these days, with safety. Perhaps, when all is said, you have acted well. But,” in another tone, “how is your grandfather?”

“Very well, sir.”

“There is no one in all the colonies for whom I have a greater regard than I have for your grandfather,” spoke Merchant Camp, heartily. “There is no more successful merchant than he, no more honest man and no one more devoted to the cause of the king.”

It was upon the tip of George’s tongue to correct this last, but he restrained himself. There had been no more ardent king’s man in all Boston town than old Seth Prentiss, that was true. But he had experienced a change of heart, and now stood as stoutly for the colonies as he had heretofore stood for their foes.

“I cannot tell you,” went on Merchant Camp, “how pleased I am to meet with you, and all the more so, the conditions being what they are. I trust,” eagerly, “that you are in no way engaged for the evening, lad.”

“No, sir,” replied George.

“Excellent! I am on my way home just now; I live but a step from here, and I want——” Here he paused as though something had occurred to him; he looked searchingly at the young man for a moment, then went on with less enthusiasm: “If you have nothing better to do with your time, I should like to have you dine with me.” George bowed his willingness. “My nephew dines with me to-night, and he will be pleased,” said Mr. Camp. “And Peggy will no doubt be delighted to greet her cousin.”

Then something in the lad’s expression seemed to strike him; and after a moment he added:

“But, perhaps, on the whole, I had better not mention your relationship just yet.”

“Perhaps,” answered George, “it would be as well if you did not.”