They were thin, unshaven, half clothed. Some had bundles of muddy cloth tied around their feet in place of shoes: some wore coats with gaping seams through which the linings hung: their breeches were torn and draggled: some were coatless, and in ragged shirts as dingy as the gray clouds that drifted from the eastward.

As we stared at them, two men a little better dressed walked to the landing from the nearest warehouse. Their clothes were travesties on uniforms: but uniforms they must have been; for though the men were swordless, they wore officers’ gorgets.

“Where’s the provision-boats?” one asked.

“An hour behind,” Nason said.

“How much this time, and what is it you’re carrying?”

Nason shook his head. “We aren’t with ’em.”

“Not with ’em! Then you got to keep away from here! Orders are, no more men received in this section unless provided with rations! That’s what’s been holding Sullivan and Wayne in Albany, damn it, and here you come, contrary to orders! My God! There’s two hundred and eighty smallpox cases—soldiers they call themselves—lying in huts here with nothing to put in their stomachs! I say you can’t come ashore!”

Nason studied the cheerless town. “We’ll feed ourselves,” he said at length. “We—–”

“Feed yourselves!” the officer cried. “What with! What’re you going to eat in place of food? This army’s supposed to be getting six tons of pork a day, and we’re getting less than two!”

“We’ve got to get through to Arnold,” Nason said. “He sent me back to Maine from Quebec on purpose to get these men to do scout duty.”

The officer’s face changed a little. “Scout duty? It’s a pity you couldn’t have been here sooner, to do some scouting on a few of the rats Arnold’s got under him!”

Nason cleared his throat and spoke softly. “Rats? Who would that be?”

“That would be Bedel and Butterfield, just to name two of ’em!” the officer said. “You don’t mean to say you haven’t heard what happened at the Cedars!”

“Look here,” Nason said, “I’m going to take these men through to Arnold! Do we come ashore here, or do we have to land back a piece and dodge around you?”

The officer spat. “Well, everything’s in a mess, anyway, and I guess you won’t make it much worse. Come ahead.”

Drawing our canoes from the water, we overturned them to make shelters for our muskets and packs, while the two officers stood watching us. Nason placed guards over our baggage: then turned to the officers. “What’s this about the Cedars? Was it because of something that happened at Quebec?”