• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 1362 0

the West Indies that a large fleet under de Grasse had been making ready to sail northward. The British command in the islands discounted the reports, could not fathom that de Grasse would weaken the French forces so severely. But Clinton and Graves accepted the strong possibility that the intelligence was accurate, both men certain that New York was the intended target. Graves had finally ordered the British ships into action, and from the West Indies, Samuel Hood had sailed northward with a fleet of fourteen warships. Cornwallis had seen Hood’s flagship, a cluster of sails suddenly appearing out beyond the mouth of the wide river. But the British fleet was fast on their way to New York, and Hood did not stop at Yorktown. His visit was only a quick inspection, making sure there was no immediate threat to Cornwallis’ port.

Cornwallis walked the waterfront, ignoring the work of the engineers, felt the chains from Clinton’s orders wrapped tightly around him. Already he was suffering from boredom, chafing at the quiet atmosphere of a new headquarters, another fine mansion made ready just for him.

He had been forced to send Leslie back to the Carolinas, a sudden need to replace Francis Rawdon. Rawdon had endured a miserably hot summer facing the ongoing threat of assault by Greene’s rebels, and the brutal climate had finally destroyed the man’s health. Cornwallis had no choice but to approve Rawdon’s return to England. He moved O’Hara into Leslie’s position, confident that O’Hara was the one officer in his command who would not require Cornwallis to peer over his shoulder. He was also the one man Cornwallis felt comfortable with pouring out his vitriol against Henry Clinton.

“Sir, the wharf is nearly complete. Fine work, those chaps.”

O’Hara’s words slipped past him, and Cornwallis said, “What’s that? What chaps?”

“Sir, the wharf. The engineers have done a fine job, I’d say.”

“Fine job.”

They continued their walk, and Cornwallis could feel O’Hara glancing at him, stopped now, said, “Am I causing you some discomfort again, General?”

O’Hara seemed to flinch, said, “Oh, my, no. I’m sorry, sir. I am concerned, that’s all. Perhaps my accompanying you was a bad idea. You would prefer to be alone, it seems.”

Cornwallis stared out toward the open water, said, “We are alone, General. We are firmly and completely in a prison of our own making. Not even Admiral Hood would risk landing here, to suffer the monotony of this swamp. General Clinton might as well order us into winter quarters. It would hardly matter that in this damnable place, winter is defined by a brief lack of mosquitoes.” He continued to walk. “I have never been one to ignore my enemies, General. Now, I have been ordered to do precisely that. That . . . boy is out there with his band of rebels, wondering why I do not pursue him. I’m quite certain General Lafayette felt it was bloody good sport. Now, we can do nothing until General Clinton and the navy sort out their fears and find some reliable piece of information about our enemies. In the meantime, we must endure a holiday in Yorktown.”

He realized O’Hara was not beside him, and he turned, saw the man staring out toward the open water, the mouth of the river.

“Sir. It seems we are not so alone after all. It appears Admiral Hood has returned.”

O’Hara retrieved a small pair of field glasses from his coat, raised them, said, “Yes, his entire fleet, I would say. I can see a number of sails. He must have decided to make port here, after all, inspect our good work, as it were.”

He handed the glasses to Cornwallis, who focused, stared out, could see small clusters of white clouds spread along the horizon. Behind him, he heard excited shouts from the lookout posts, men watching as he watched, the fat white sails growing closer, driven by a hard stiff breeze. O’Hara continued to talk, a babble of enthusiasm for the sudden security of the naval force, livening the town, the certain competition between soldier and sailor, games, perhaps, to relieve the boredom. Cornwallis continued to stare for a long moment, O’Hara