“It is small,” he said with hesitation. “Small, and the fort unfinished. I fear me that ’twill not withstand attack, even though it should be defended with stubbornness. But I must not make you uneasy. There may be no ground for apprehension after all.”
So he spoke, and knew not that at that very moment some British and loyalists from Sandy Hook were landing at Coates’ Point, a few miles to the north of Tom’s River. Here their number was augmented by the addition of a band of refugees under the Tory, Davenport. A vidette dashed into the village with the news at midnight. Almost instantly came the order:
“Every man to the blockhouse! The British and refugees are approaching!”
CHAPTER XV
THE ATTACK ON THE BLOCKHOUSE
“Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in beauty’s circle, proudly gay,
The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife,
The morn the marshaling in arms,—the day,
Battle’s magnificently-stern array!”
—Byron.
The cry echoed and reëchoed through the streets of Tom’s River: