Early in the spring of this year, 1781, the French government had sent a powerful fleet to the West Indies, under the command of Count de Grasse. De Grasse now had orders to act in concert with Washington and Rochambeau, against the common enemy. This was joyful news.
News traveled very slowly in those times. It took ten days for Washington to hear from Lafayette that Cornwallis had retreated to Yorktown, and thirty days to learn that Greene was marching southward against Lord Rawdon in South Carolina. And as for De Grasse, it was uncertain just when and where he would arrive on the coast.
Washington had some hard thinking to do. The storm center of the whole war might suddenly shift to Virginia.
Now came the test for his military genius. Hitherto, the British fleet had been in control of our coast. Now, however, nobody but a Nelson would ever hope to defeat the French men-of-war that were nearing our shores. Cornwallis was safe enough on the York peninsula so long as the British fleet had control of the Virginia coast. But suppose De Grasse should take up a position on the three sides of Yorktown, would it not be an easy matter, with the aid of a large land force, to entrap Cornwallis?
The supreme moment for the patriot cause was now at hand. In the middle of August, word came from De Grasse that he was headed with his whole fleet for Chesapeake Bay.
As might be expected, Washington was equal to the occasion. The capture of New York must wait. He made up his mind that he would swoop down with his army upon Yorktown, four hundred miles away, and crush Cornwallis.
Yes, but what about Sir Henry Clinton, the British commander in chief in New York? If Sir Henry should happen to get an inkling of what Washington intended to do, what would prevent his sending an army by sea to the relief of Yorktown?
Nothing, of course, and so the all-important point was to hoodwink the British commander. It was cleverly done, as we shall see.