of a
squadron coming out under Admiral Byron, had hastened to its relief;
though still inferior in force to the French admiral. The delay of the
concerted attack had enabled him to arrive in time. The wind set
directly into the harbor. Had he entered promptly the French would
have been placed between two fires, from his ships and the batteries,
and cramped up in a confined channel where their largest ships had no
room to operate. His lordship, however, came to anchor at Point
Judith, some distance from the south-west entrance of the bay.

In the night the wind changed to the north-east. The count hastened to
avail himself of the error of the British admiral. Favored by the
wind, he stood out of the harbor at eight o'clock in the morning to
give the enemy battle where he should have good sea room; previously
sending word to General Sullivan that he would land his promised
troops and marines, and co-operate with him on his return. The French
ships were severely cannonaded as they passed the batteries, but
without material damage. Forming in order of battle, they bore down
upon the fleet of Lord Howe, confidently anticipating a victory from
their superiority of force. The British ships slipt their cables at
their approach, and likewise formed in line of battle, but his
lordship avoided an encounter while the enemy had the weathergage. To
gain this on the one part, and retain it on the other, the two fleets
manoeuvred throughout the day standing to the southward, and gradually
disappearing from the anxious eyes of the belligerent forces on Rhode
Island.

The army of Sullivan, now left to itself before Newport, amounted to
ten thousand men, having received the militia reinforcements.
Lafayette advised the delay of hostile operations until the return of
D'Estaing, but the American commander, piqued and chagrined at the
departure of his allies, determined to commence the siege immediately
without waiting for his tardy aid. On the 12th, however, came on a
tempest of wind and rain which raged for two days and nights with
unexampled violence. On the 14th the weather cleared up and the sun
shone brightly, but the army was worn down and dispirited. The day was
passed in drying their clothes, cleaning their arms, and putting
themselves in order for action. By the next morning they were again on
the alert. Expecting the prompt return of the French, they now took
post on Honeyman's Hill, about two miles from the British lines, and