At the ferry we reported to Captain Falconer, who was expeditiously sending each rider and horse aboard one of the waiting flat-boats as soon as each arrived.  Thus was avoided the assemblage, for any length of time, of a special body of horsemen in the streets—­for not even the army, let alone the townspeople, should know more of our setting forth than could not be hid.  The departure of those who were to embark from the town was managed with exceeding quietness and rapidity.  Captain Falconer and the man who was to guide us to Edward Faringfield’s trysting-place were the last to board.

Upon rounding the lower end of the town, and crossing the Hudson to Paulus Hook, which post our troops had reoccupied after the rebel capture of its former garrison, we went ashore and were joined by men and horses from up the river, and by others from Staten Island.  We then exchanged our hats for the caps taken from the rebel cavalry, donned the blue surtouts, and set out; Captain Falconer and the guide riding at the head.

For a short distance we kept to the Newark road, but, without proceeding to that town, we deviated to the right, and made Northwestwardly, the purpose being to pass through a hiatus in the semicircle of rebel detached posts, turn the extremity of the main army, and approach Morristown—­where Washington had his headquarters—­from a side whence a British force from New York might be the less expected.

Each man of us carried a sword and two pistols, having otherwise no burden but his clothes.  At first we walked our horses, but presently we put them to a steady, easy gallop.  The snow on the ground greatly muffled the sound of our horses’ footfalls, and made our way less invisible than so dark a night might have allowed.  But it made ourselves also the more likely to be seen; though scarce at a great distance nor in more than brief glimpses, for the wind raised clouds of fine snow from the whitened fields, the black growth of tree and brush along the road served now as curtain for us, now as background into which our outlines might sink, and a stretch of woods sometimes swallowed us entirely from sight.  Besides, on such a night there would be few folk outdoors, and if any of these came near, or if we were seen from farmhouses or village windows, our appearance of rebel horse would protect our purpose.  So, in silence all, following our captain and his guide, we rode forward to seize the rebel chief, and make several people’s fortunes.

I must now turn to Philip Winwood, and relate matters of which I was not a witness, but with which I was subsequently made acquainted in all minuteness.

We had had no direct communication with Philip since the time after our capture of Mr. Cornelius, who, as every exchange of prisoners had passed him by, still remarked upon parole at Mr. Faringfield’s.  If Mr. Faringfield received news of Winwood through his surreptitious messenger, Bill Meadows, he kept it to himself, naturally making a secret of his being in correspondence with General Washington.