He should have been at his home that day instead of at sea. All over New England, all over the other colonies, north and south, as far as the news had been carried; from town to town, from village to village, and from farm to farm, horsemen were riding, men and boys on foot were running to tell of the surrender of Burgoyne. The great British invasion and conquest of the northern half of the American rebellion had broken down. The Six Nations had scattered to their wigwams and council-fires. It would be many days yet before the tidings could reach England or cross the Channel to astonish Continental Europe and seal the alliance between the United States and France. It would be longer still before it could be known by roving cruisers out at sea. For all American keels, however, their home ports had been made secure from British assailing until the generals and admirals of King George should have time given them to consider the Saratoga affair, and make up their astonished minds as to what it might be best for them to undertake next. "Anneke Ten Eyck," remarked Rachel Tarns, "thee wicked rebel! Has thee no feelings for thy good king and his wise counsellors? Cannot thee understand that their souls may be much disturbed by this untoward event?" "I wish their fleets were as badly whipped as Burgoyne's army is," replied Mrs. Ten Eyck. "Oh! it is so very long since I've heard from Guert!" "Trust thy son with thy God!" said Rachel, reverently. "Thee may think of this, Anneke: our victory over Burgoyne hath cost much to hundreds of mothers, as loving as thou art. Their sons lie buried at Stillwater and Saratoga. No gallant ship will bring them home again." "I know it! I know it!" sobbed Mrs. Ten Eyck. "They gave their lives for liberty. Guert may have to give his as Nathan Hale did. He told me he believed he could die as bravely, only he would rather it should be in battle." "That he may not choose for himself," said Rachel. "It hath come, heretofore, to many of my own people, Quakers, thou callest them, to die by the fire, and by the water, and by the hempen cord, because they would not give up their freedom to worship God in their own way. I think it was well with them. Let thy son die as it shall be given him in the hour of his appointing." Deep and solemn had grown the tones of the enthusiastic old Friend, but Mrs. Ten Eyck dropped her knitting and went to a window to look out long and wistfully toward the harbor. "When will he come sailing in?" she thought. "Am I ever to see him again? Oh! the war is so long, and the sea is so wide, and I love him so!"