Chapter VI

THE BRITISH FLEET ARRIVES OFF SANDY HOOK.

On the morning of the 10th of May, the telegraph operator stationed at Fire Island, telegraphed to New York that four large war vessels were in sight, proceeding slowly westward towards Sandy Hook.

Later in the day, numbers of other vessels were reported as also passing in the same direction; and it became evident that the long expected fleet had at length reached our shores. The excitement which this news caused in the cities of New York and Brooklyn was intense and indescribable.

Although it had been the uppermost thought in people's minds for months past, and in spite of the fact that there had been scarcely any other subject of conversation among the citizens, and notwithstanding the almost universal feeling of confidence which had possessed them in the efficiency of their defensive preparations, the news of the actual arrival of a hostile fleet--representing the most formidable naval power in the world, and presumably containing all the best and most approved offensive weapons known to modern science--seemed to exert an almost paralyzing effect upon the inhabitants of the two cities. The noisy and boisterous ebullitions, which usually accompany occasions of great public excitement, were entirely wanting. Business of all kinds was suspended, and in all of the down-town centers, groups of anxious and pale-faced men were to be encountered at every corner and street crossing, engaged in earnest, but quiet conversation. The lively spirit of braggadocio and bravado, which had heretofore been such a prominent feature of every gathering, large or small, when the pending "invasion" happened to be the subject of conversation, was noticeable by its total absence. Conversation was carried on almost entirely in hurried and anxious whispers; and anybody who raised his voice above a colloquial tone--whether it was an excited newsboy, shouting out the latest extra; or a half intoxicated tramp, yelling patriotic defiance to the hated British--was looked upon, much as the deliberate violator of some sacred spot would be regarded, by an enthusiastic believer in its sanctified character.

A complete hush seemed to have fallen upon the two cities; and a subdued air, as if some impending calamity had proclaimed its near approach, seized upon the people. For the first time, a faint idea of the real gravity of the situation seemed to dawn upon the public mind. Here was war, bitter, relentless, destructive, cruel war, at their very doors. In a day or two at the latest, possibly within a few hours, the thunder of distant cannon would be faintly heard, and the bursting and crashing of deadly shells would involve the city in ruin and desolation. What was to be done? How could this frightful downpour of dynamite shells be averted? What if those formidable marine monsters were able to defy the attacks of our insignificant looking little torpedo boats and rams. Supposing some of them should be destroyed; what if two, or three, or even one, should remain uninjured, and should proceed to pour its hail of deadly projectiles upon these defenseless and exposed cities? Who could tell where the shells might strike, or who would be safe from their deadly work? Many of the more timid of the inhabitants took time by the forelock and sought safety in flight. The newspapers, however, did much to avert what threatened to become a panic, by treating the whole subject in a light and cheerful vein, and their optimistic predictions were regarded as gospel truths by the great majority of the citizens.