cross the eastern sky, illumining the
river whereon boats were plying to and fro, and showing clear as in a
mirror the red-coats massed upon the banks awaiting their turn to go
across to Gloucester Point.

After that came a downpour of water, when the wind drove the rain-drops
in solid sheets, as you might say, which stung one's face like thousands
of needles. The roaring of thunder, for after the first outburst of the
tempest it seemed to be almost continuous, the blinding flashes of
light, together with the deluge of water, all served to confuse one, and
I believe I stood there struggling against the elements to hold my
footing, a full minute before gathering my wits sufficiently to turn
about in order to rejoin Uncle 'Rasmus.

"For de Lawd's sake, honey, am de earth turnin' upside down?" the old
man cried when I came to where he stood exposed to all the fury of the
tempest, for he dared not remain amid the ruins of the building where
great timbers were being flung about by the wind like straws. "What's
Gin'ral Cornwallis gone done to bring on dis yere ter'ble racket?"

"I have released the Tories, Uncle 'Rasmus," I shouted, forced to speak
close in his ear else he could not have heard me. "Why should we not
push on even as Pierre has planned for us to do?"

"Was you gwine to tell our people dat de Britishers were takin' to dere
heels for Gloucester Point?" Uncle 'Rasmus asked, as if having forgotten
all that I had told him.

"Of course that is the story. Why else should it be necessary for us to
make such haste?"

"Den stay whar you are, honey. Dere's gwine to be no retreatin' dis yere
night."

"What do you mean?" I asked in bewilderment, almost fancying the old man
had taken leave of his senses. "We saw a portion of the army go across."

"I'se 'lowin' all dat, honey; but yer Uncle 'Rasmus am tellin' yer dat
dere won't any odder Britishers go ober dis yere night. I'se libed right
erlong dis riber all my life, an' I knows dere ain' de bigges' skiff
eber was built dat could make a landin' on de Gloucester shore sence dis
yere storm got up. Gin'ral Cornwallis am boun' to put an end to dat ere
fun ob his kase he can't get across, honey, I'se tellin' yer he can't
get across, not till dis yere racket done died away, an' den dere's
boun' fo' to be a ragin' torrent."

It was not until several moments had passed that I realized the truth of
all Uncle 'Rasmus had said. Then was borne in upon me the memory of what
I