Chapter 56. Good - or Bad - News

“Good show, old boy, very good job!” William was ebullient. Thomas tried his best to appear indifferent. There was a patter of applause from the men, and Thomas bowed. It had been quite some time since Thomas had delivered the “discovered” letter, but William was still over-joyed. It had gone very well for New-York; there was great relief that Washington’s siege of the Town had not materialized.

The general staff of the British Army attributed this good fortune – to have not been be-sieged – to Clinton’s decision to hold the fleet in the waters surrounding New-York, continually raking the Jersey palisades – Washington’s imagined west flank – with repeated cannonades, and keeping the Army in Town. Joy had spread far and wide through New-York – it was as peaceful a life in Town as the Loyalists had ever enjoyed. The British Army was having a jolly time of it as well. Amusements abounded – the general staff and various high-society Loyalists were gathered again in Clinton’s head-quarters; again there were large stakes at cards. The men laughed heartily as the General laid down his cards, raking a ponderous stack of gold guineas to his side of the table. Women fanned themselves, a trifle bored. Servants were drinking the General’s Madeira in the pantry. Life was good in New-York.

Leaves on the trees were just starting to turn, the wind smelled of pine tar, the fields north of Town were golden.

A packet ship flew up the river on a hard reach, its sails billowing, and made a hasty docking at the foot of Broad Street. A young officer fairly sprouted wings, dancing down the plank with a squad of Royal Marines in his wake.

Breathless, the officer bowed, saluted, laying a letter before the General. The letter bore an impressive-looking wax seal.

“Veddy well, lef-tenant,” Clinton sniffed, “you may go. What is this great news that we have here? Open it, Smith,” and by that the general meant William. Thomas was, militarily, a non-person.

William carefully pried open the letter, taking care not to deface the beautiful seal that bore the crest of Lord Cornwallis. William knew the handwriting – it was from Cornwallis himself; they had corresponded at great length before. It was Cornwallis who had recruited William for the post of intelligence officer for Clinton after the execution of Major André.

William blanched, and threw down the letter. “Oh, God! But this is dreadful!”

“Let me see that – “ the General was frowning. “Oh, dear God, indeed! We may be marooned! –  What of our Fleet?  My ships under Admiral Graves should have arrived in time!”

Thomas took up the letter and read aloud, using his preaching voice to command the room. And this is what he read:

Your Excellency, Etcetera,

It is with greatest regrets that I must inform you that We have been handed a decisive defeat at the Hands of, and under the Guns of the Fleet of Admiral DeGrasse ––––

There was a gasp from one of the officers – “But, DeGrasse was sailing here to lay siege to us!” Clinton shushed the man with a wave of his hand, and Thomas continued –

– aided by French regulars under the command of the Marquis de la Fayette and Comte de Rochambeau –––––  We have surrendered, and have made preparations to debark for Britain, If Your Lordship would consent to send Transport to these Shores. Our arms are confiscated, and our men are weary from the Labor of the Siege. May God grant you success with the Yankees, for we have failed,

Yours, etcetera,

Charles Cornwallis

At York-town, Colony of Virginia, October the Twentieth, the Year of Our Lord Seventeen Hundred Eighty-One.”

“Admiral Graves arrived too late to save Cornwallis – “ intoned Clinton, stating the obvious fact of the matter.

~

Thomas laid aside the letter, folded his hands, and began reciting the Lord’s Prayer. He prayed aloud, and alone – ‘though there was otherwise silence among the formerly boisterous gathering. “Amen, and Amen. I leave you all to your deliberations,” he concluded.

With that, Thomas took up his broad-brimmed hat and left the room as quietly as was possible. No one was looking at him as he left, but the wide grin on his face was brilliant. It would be a very good autumn, indeed: already the harvest was in, and the fruits of the season would be very rich for his people – his Yankee folk.

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