“That is a strange manoeuvre,” remarked Philemon. “Why stop they outside, instead of sailing up the river?”
“They’ve hove to, no doubt, to wait a pilot, being strangers to the waters,” surmised Clowes, wheeling and looking up the river townwards. “Ay, there goes some signal from the ‘Charon’s’ truck,” he went on, as the British frigate anchored off the town displayed three flags at her masthead.
Janice, thankful for the diversion the arrivals had caused, said something to Philemon in a low voice, and they set out toward the town. Not noticing the obvious attempt to escape from his society, or to outward appearance perturbed, the baron put himself alongside the two, and walked with them until the custom-house was reached.
“Will you come in, Philemon, and see dadda and mommy?” questioned the girl, as the three halted at the doorway.
As she spoke, an orderly, who a moment before had come out of headquarters, made towards the major, and, saluting, said, “Colonel Tarleton directs that you report at headquarters without delay, sir.”
“My answer is made for me, Janice,” sighed Philemon. “I fear me ’t is some vidette duty, and that once again we are doomed to part, just as I thought my hour had come. Many more of such disappointments will turn me from a soldier into a Quaker. However, ’t is possible his Lordship wants but to put some questions, and, if so, I’ll be with you shortly.” He crossed the street and entered the Nelson house.
Shown by the orderly to the room where Cornwallis was, he found with him his colonel and a man in the uniform of a naval officer.
“Ah, here he is,” said the British general. “Major Hennion, the three ships which have taken station at the mouth of the river pay no heed to the ‘Charon’s ’signals, nor are theirs to be read by our book, so ’t is feared that they are French ships. As ’t is impossible to believe they would thus boldly venture into the bay if alone, we wish to know if there are others below. Furnish Lieutenant Foley with a mount, and, with an escort of a troop, guide him over the road you came to-day to some spot where a view of the roadstead at Old Point Comfort is to be commanded.” Speaking to the naval officer, he enjoined, “You will carefully observe any shipping there may be, sir, and of what force, and report to me with the least possible delay.”
It was a little after ten o’clock on the following day when a troop of hot and weary-looking horses and men clattered along the main street of the town and drew up in front of headquarters. Throwing himself from the saddle, Major Hennion hurried into the house. The moment he was in the presence of Cornwallis, he said: “’T is as you surmised, general. Between thirty and forty sail stretch from Lynnhaven Bay to the mouth of the James, and though ’t was difficult to exactly estimate their force, they are mostly men of war, and some even three-deckers.”
“Beyond question ’t is the French West India fleet,” burst from Cornwallis. For a moment he was silent, then sternly demanded, “Where is Lieutenant Foley?”