So Nathaniel had learned of secret information received by Congress. Who, I wondered, had sent that information, which had proved to be false? I thought I knew. I pretended to ponder his words; but what I really did was rack my brain for a plan that would turn him from his infatuation. The tents around us were a soft pink from the setting sun. The distant booming of cannon had again ceased.

“What would happen,” I asked, “if we stayed on this side—if we didn’t go back to the American side?”

“Happen?” Nathaniel asked. “Nothing! When Burgoyne joins Howe and Clinton, as he’ll soon do, the war’ll be over, and you and I’ll be free to go home and see that nothing happens to Mother or Father or the girls. There’ll have to be trustworthy, loyal people put in charge of things everywhere, and it’d be a godsend to a place like Arundel if we could have the say in building it up. Why, I’ve been thinking it over, and I know how it could be made into a real seaport: one of the best.” His words sounded reasonable and sensible: yet they filled me with a sort of despair.

“Nathaniel,” I said, “listen to me. I’ve heard you say yourself that in fifty years’ time no power on earth could keep us from having our freedom, no matter how England might feel about it.”

“Yes!” he said eagerly. “There’d be nobody powerful enough to stop us, once we were stronger; but the devil of it is, we can’t ever be stronger while we’re governed by such a Congress!”

“But,” I said, “if we stop now, we’re stopping before we have to. Those men up at Isle aux Noix didn’t stop till they had to. We wouldn’t either of us feel right, ever, I don’t believe, if we stopped before we’d tried everything!”

“I tell you there’s nothing more to try, Peter!” Nathaniel cried. “The war’s lost! The American troops won’t fight; and even if they would, they’ve got no generals fit to show ’em what to do! Burgoyne’s officers are soldiers, and they say there isn’t a real soldier on the whole American side—not one of ’em capable of planning or fighting a battle.”

“How about Arnold?” I asked.

Nathaniel whisked away an imaginary obstacle. “Arnold doesn’t have to be considered. Congress heard so many things about him that they promoted five officers over his head!”

Then, observing the expression on my face, he added, “They’re lunatics, I tell you! That’s the way they govern! If they have their way, they’ll make America into a madhouse!”