About three o'clock the following afternoon, a sloop of war got
under weigh in the harbor of New York, and spreading sail after
sail, stood boldly up the Hudson. As night approached she entered
the Highlands, and came to an anchor off Verplanck's point,
and within range of an American battery thrown up on the head-land.

Her progress up the river had been watched by spectators on
shore, with apprehension not unmingled with curiosity. But as
she stood standing on her course without manifesting any hostile
purpose, she was supposed to bear a flag for the purpose of opening
a treaty with Washington, and was suffered to pass the several
batteries that lined the shore, without being fired into.

After she had swung round to her anchor, and her sails were
furled and a double watch set, two gentlemen came on deck, and
took an elevated position on the quarter deck from which, with
night-glasses they began carefully to reconnoitre the land. One
of them was in the uniform of an English Naval Captain, and
was the commander of the vessel. The other was a handsome
young man, with noble features, a manly and elegant person, refined
by an air of grace and high breeding. He was dressed as
a British Army officer, and his bearing was marked by the frankness
of the soldier, tempered with the courtesy of an

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accomplished gentleman. While his companion constantly kept the glass to
his eye, in the direction of the western shore, he paced the deck
with an impatient step. At length he paused for an instant to
glance landward, and exclaimed in a disappointed tone:

“No boat yet Captain? The night is advancing!”

“Nothing in sight but a brace of rebel barges, that are lying
off, and on, to prevent us communicating with the shore. They
suspect us strongly of being here on mischief, and the good
dames inland, doubtless tremble for their poultry and dairies.”

“A boat!” cried the young officer, who, while the Captain was
speaking, had placed the glass to his eye. “It is putting towards
the ship. Ah! By Heaven! all is lost! The guard-boat has
challenged and detained it! No, they are permitted to pass, and
are rapidly approaching. It must be him we seek! I will receive
him in your state room, Sutherland. I have some papers to
prepare beforehand, and will leave to you the honor of ushering
the gentleman below.”

The officer had left the deck but a few minutes, when the watch
on the forecastle suddenly sung out in a rough stern voice, “Boat
ahoy!”

“Holloa!” was the distant reply, in a voice equally hoarse.

“What boat is that?”

“Ferry-boat!”

“Is this the way you come athwart His Majesty's hawser?”
growled the officer of the watch.

“Order that boat alongside!” said the Captain, advancing to
the gangway.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

The boat was pulled alertly alongside, and a man stepped from
her and ascended the side.

“Which is Mr. John Anderson,” he asked in a bold, swaggering
manner.

“If you have business with any one on board the Vulture, you
bear some token from him you came from?” said the Captain
half interrogating.

“West Point,” said the man in a subdued tone.

“'Tis right. Follow me below.”

“Where is Gen—the principal?” exclaimed the young officer,

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on seeing a rough, gigantic fellow, enter the cabin behind his
friend.

“On shore,” said Smithson, gruffly, “and bade me give you
this letter if you be Mr. John Anderson.”

“Give it me!” he said, taking it from his hesitating hold and
tearing it open. `This will be delivered to you,' he read, `by
Smithson, who will take you to a retired place on shore, where
with perfect saftey to yourself, we can confer togather on the matters
touching your mission to the Highlands. Gustavus.'

“Leave the ship! By—no, Andre,” said the Captain: “I allow
no soul on board the Vulture to put foot on rebel soil. If this
General wants to see you, he must come here.”

“That he was to meet me on board, I certainly understood from
his letters to Sir Henry,” said Major Andre; “but if he fears to
trust his person with us, I see no alternative but to do as he desires.”

“Not if Harry Sutherland can help it shall you have any thing
to do with his proposition. If you are caught on shore, they'll
hang you as sure as the devil. No, no. `Twill never do, my dear
boy. Never! If he wants to see you let him come and see you
here.”

“My dear Sutherland, the advantages in this matter are not his,
but ours, and we must not calculate risks in securing them, so
vast and important as they are to His Majesty's arms. My own
life is nothing weighed against the value of West Point. But
there is no need of sacrificing life. There is no danger under
cover of night, of going on shore and meeting this man; an hour's
time will suffice for the interview, and I shall be on board again,
by two hours before daybreak.

“Major Andre, I'll be — if you do.”

“Not a word, Sutherland,” said the officer playfully, “this
project must not be given up at a time when it is about to be crowned
with success—the hour has arrived when the fruits of our long
pending negotiation may be gathered—when the hopes of General
Clinton may be realised—when the reward for which we have so
long toiled, may be reaped. Fanciful apprehensions ought to
have no weight with me now; nothing, life itself would not make
me waver. Every thing depends on me this night. I will go on

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shore and meet Arnold. I see no great risk in it, and what there
is, I cheerfully encounter for the sake of the object I have in view.”

“Well, do as you will, Andre. I have no power to control your
movements, my orders being to afford you every means of achieving
successfully your object. If you must go,—go, and God bless
you! but I fear evil will come of it.”