Chapter 28
The attack on Norfolk quickly failed. Although the British began an attack both by land and by sea, apparently with heavy reinforcements, a huge summer storm prevented the landing of half of their marines and those that succeeded were decimated by the heavy artillery fire of the American regulars.
Within two hours, the British forces withdrew.
The news of the American victory rapidly swept through the county and reached Sweet Briar by the end of the day.
Once again, Virginia was not quite well.
She sat in the kitchen as Tillie prepared a light supper of fried greens, ham and eggs, fanning herself.
It was a very warm day, but that was not why she could not seem to breathe properly and she knew it.
She was also light-headed, enough so that she saw dancing lights in the room and her heart raced and pounded uncomfortably.
When Frank came in, beaming, to impart the news of their triumph, she could not breathe at all.
As he began to speak—“Turned tail and ran, cowards, all of ’em”—her world grayed and began undulating and she began to fall.
“Frank, help her,” Tillie screamed.
Virginia fought the blackness and she fought for air. Images of Devlin as she had last seen him assailed her as she clawed someone’s arms. Her last thought was she needed her husband, and then the blackness came.
She awoke slowly in her bed, stripped down to her chemise and drawers, with an ice compress on her throbbing head.
Tillie sat beside her, her eyes huge with fear.
Virginia tested her lungs and found she could breathe normally and she inhaled hard.
Relief assailed her. Then she smiled. “Tillie. The baby. He kicked again.” It was true.
Just before she had passed out, she had felt her child kick.
Tillie did not smile. “You need to see a doctor. You swooned and hit your head on the floor! I sent Frank to go get Doc Barnes.” Her tone meant she would tolerate only compliance.
Virginia closed her eyes. These attacks where she felt faint, her heart beating so hard that it hurt her, were becoming more and more frequent.
She was afraid. This time she had fainted and hit her head—what if this happened yet again?
She looked at Tillie. “I agree with you. I need a doctor. Something is wrong. I’m afraid for the baby, Tillie. ”
Tillie stood, looking ferocious. “I know what is wrong! You need your husband home, that’s what’s wrong. He broke your heart and now you’re sick because of it! How dare he treat you so! How can he war against us?” she cried.
Virginia did not know how to respond, because she had to wonder if Tillie was right.
It almost seemed that whenever she heard word of him or his actions, or some war news that might involve him, she could not breathe and she felt faint.
It was as if her anxiety over where her husband was and what he was doing was simply too much for her to bear.
And seeing him so briefly last week—being in his arms one more time—made her love him more than ever.
It made their separation hurt more than ever, too.
Virginia desperately yearned for the future.
Just as desperately, she feared what that day might bring.
But when Doc Barnes visited the next day, he insisted it was exhaustion combined with her pregnancy and the strain of the war.
“A small woman like you needs a man at home to run things,” he said, snapping closed his satchel.
“I heard all about that husband of yours, fighting for the enemy! No good can come of a divided marriage, missy. I feel right in telling you that, as I’ve known you since you were born. ”
Still in bed and feeling somewhat better, Virginia smiled at him. “So what do you suggest?”
“Get your man to throw down his arms and come home,” Barnes challenged. Although close to sixty, with shocking white hair, he stood as straight as an arrow.
“We are estranged,” Virginia said softly.
“As if I don’t know! Whole county knows! You stay in bed if you don’t want to lose that baby.” With that last bit of abrupt advice, he walked out.
Virginia looked at Tillie. “It’s late June. The baby won’t be born until sometime in October. I can’t stay in bed for three or four months!”
“You may have to, whether you like it or not.” Tillie hesitated. “I think we should tell the captain how ill you are.”
Virginia froze. Then she said, “I’m not ill. And Devlin has enough to worry about.”
“He should know,” Tillie said stubbornly.
Very grim, Virginia patted her bed and Arthur leapt up, sprawling his length down beside her. She stroked him, seeking comfort. “I want to see another doctor, Tillie. That’s what we should do.” Surely she would not have to stay in bed for months on end. Surely everything was all right.
Tillie sighed. “You are still as stubborn as a mule.”
Virginia watched her walk out, sinking back against the pillows, her arm around Arthur. A part of her desperately wished to do as Tillie wanted, but Devlin had enough on his mind. Besides, they were separated—and she was proud. But he had come once to see her. Maybe he would come again.
Hampton was a small, sleepy town compared to the bustling port and commercial center of Norfolk.
Several days later, Virginia was feeling well enough to make the short trip there; Frank drove the buggy and Tillie sat in the back seat with her, both of them dressed in their best day gowns, bonnets and pelisses.
Virginia hadn’t had another attack since the other day.
And it was a truly pleasant summer day, warm but not humid.
In fact, the sky was a robin’s-egg blue, with hardly a cloud to mar it.
“We’re an hour early,” Virginia commented.
“Better than an hour late,” Tillie said. “Do you want to walk a bit before we go see Dr. Niles?”
“Why not?” Virginia smiled a little. Maybe a stroll through the quiet town would help her to get her mind off of Devlin. His strange midnight visit had given her so much to think about and so much hope.
They alighted from the carriage not far from a pawnshop. “Should I wait here?” Frank asked.
“Why don’t you go get our flour while we walk? Meet us in two hours at Dr. Niles’s,” Virginia said. They had ordered one single sack last week and Tillie’d promised she’d make a pie.
Frank nodded and drove the buggy off.
Virginia smiled at Tillie as they paused before the shop window. Displayed were a gold watch, a pretty silver locket, two fine cameos and filigreed earrings with topaz stones. The earrings would be lovely on Tillie. Virginia was about to suggest they step inside when she heard an explosion.
It was terribly close by and Virginia instantly tensed with fear and dread. Surely this was a blast from someone’s furnace or oven, or maybe even the ordnance belonging to the militia!
“What was that?” Tillie asked warily, pale beneath her dark complexion.
“I don’t know,” Virginia said. In truth, she was afraid it was not an innocent explosion. Virginia grabbed Tillie’s hand and they ran down the block and around the corner, which afforded them a view of the inlet and, just beyond it, the Chesapeake Bay.
Her heart stopped.
“Dear God,” Tillie whispered.
Virginia stared in horror. Two huge ships had cruised into the inlet and were dangerously close to the shore. Dozens of rowboats, all loaded with scarlet marines, were being launched. And as she stared, paralyzed, both ships fired broadsides directly at the town.
They screamed and ducked. A house down the block was struck. Windows behind them shattered.
Virginia and Tillie looked at each other and shrank against the wall of a building. “We’re being attacked,” Tillie exclaimed.
Virginia was in disbelief.
Suddenly a troop of militia came running toward them from farther down the block.
The men wore their blue-and-gray uniforms, all homemade, and carried muskets, pistols and the occasional sword.
More cannons were fired from the two ships and the first battery of rowed boats was almost upon the shore.
Virginia stared at the closest frigate. She knew the Defiance from any distance, any angle. It was Devlin.
Tillie leapt up and ran to the passing militiamen. “What’s happening?” she cried, seizing the arm of one of the men.
Blond, dirty and blue-eyed, no more than eighteen, he paused, grim. “They’re attacking the town. It’s O’Neill and Cockburn. They must be a thousand strong and we have only militia to defend the town!” He shook Tillie off and ran after his regiment.
Virginia came to stand beside her, faint now with horror and fear.
She turned to stare at the shore as the first line of attacking British marines leapt from their craft.
There was no Virginia militia to greet them.
Another broadside sounded; Tillie and Virginia ducked and ran to the closest building for shelter.
Crouching there, they saw smoke billowing from the northern edge of town, where apparently a fire or fires had started. More broadsides exploded.
“We have to find Frank and get home,” Tillie said fiercely.
She was right. But Virginia did not move, thinking about Devlin standing on the quarterdeck of the Defiance, commanding his men, ordering them to attack her town, her people, Tillie and herself.
The baby kicked and she soothed him with her palm.
But she was sick, and it was not the illness that had been afflicting her these past few months. How had their marriage—their love—come to this terrible moment?
“Virginia, let’s go,” Tillie said, gripping her arm.
Virginia took one last look at the strip of beach, but to her amazement and utter dismay, still no militia appeared to stop the invaders. Hundreds of redcoats were running up the beach and would soon reach the town. She turned away, beginning to tremble with fear. “Let’s go,” she said hoarsely.