“We don’t know.” He passed her the spyglass and reached for another ham and cheese biscuit. “Between the darkness and the rain, all we can see is the bombs and rockets blasting at the Star Fort and the battery across at Lazaretto Point.”
She adjusted the spyglass. “When a rocket goes off over the fort, I can see the brick walls, but nothing more.” She sighed and passed the spyglass on to Sarah. “What a very, very strange day this is.”
“Someday the history books will describe this day as the Battle of Baltimore and this will all be seen as obvious and predictable because history books know who won,” Gordon mused. “But tonight it’s a mystery. For what it’s worth, I’m beginning to feel optimistic for the city. The Royal Navy has been blasting away at the fort for hours to very little effect.”
“Looks to me like the British ships have cannons with a greater range than the American guns,” Josh said judiciously. “But keeping far enough away to stay safe maybe makes the cannons less accurate.”
“I can’t hear any firing from the east,” Molly said. “Do you think the British troops have withdrawn?” she asked without much hope.
“More likely the two armies are staring at each other and shifting their troops around like a chess game,” Gordon replied. “The American forces are much larger and they’re dug in behind formidable earthworks. My guess is that the British troops are waiting for the naval attack to succeed. If that happens, the British Army attacks and the city will be caught like a nut in a nutcracker.” He demonstrated a pincer movement with thumb and forefinger.
Molly winced at a particularly ear-numbing blast. “They must be able to hear this in Washington!”
“Maybe even in Philadelphia,” Trey said as he scooped up two more biscuits.
Callie sighed. “How long can the British keep this up? They’ve been blasting away for”—she paused to calculate—“fifteen hours now. Won’t they run out of ammunition?”
“Eventually, but they haven’t yet,” Josh said grimly. “The fort isn’t using as much since they know the British warships are out of range of their guns. I guess they’re saving their ammunition to use if the British come closer.”
They ate in silence until all the food and drink were gone. The spyglass had come to rest with Callie, who looked through it now and then. “Even though we can’t see much of anything, there’s a ghastly fascination to it all,” she observed.
“Maybe so,” Josh said as he got to his feet. “But I’m tired. Wake me if anything interesting happens.”
Sarah also rose. “You can get used to anything, can’t you? I’m pretty sure I can sleep through a few hundred more cannon shots. Molly, Trey, time for bed for you, too. These have been difficult days.”
Proof of their fatigue was that the young people headed inside without protest. Josh slung his arm around Sarah’s shoulders and they followed.
“It’s just us now. Come sit on my lap,” Gordon suggested. “I find it comforting.”
“So do I.” Callie rose from her chair and scooped up a blanket from their pallet, which was still made up between the tobacco barrels. When she settled into his welcoming lap, she tugged the blanket over them both and rested her head on his shoulder with a sight of relaxation. “I could become accustomed to this.”
“I hope you do.” Gordon toyed with her hair, pulling out the pins she’d used earlier to look like a respectable widow. Then he combed the heavy silken mass over her shoulders. “I love your hair. It shines red-gold in the glare of the Congreve rockets.”
“I think we’re a little too far away for that,” she said with a laugh. “I hate those horrible rockets—they shoot around like mad things. I’ll never forget when the British blasted two of them into my house.” She sighed. “That seems a thousand years ago.”
“I feel the same. So much has happened since then. We’re living in a strange limbo.” He frowned as he tried to define his feelings. “It’s odd not doing anything. I’m not used to being a spectator. Generally when there’s trouble, I’m either fighting or fleeing for my life.”
She chuckled. “I expect you fight more often than you flee. Where are your loyalties now?”
“I admire this city. Boys like Trey and a handful of canny old veterans like Sam Smith are facing down the greatest military power on earth. Wellington’s Invincibles defeated Napoleon himself, yet inexperienced American troops are holding the line against them.” He let his hand rest on the nape of her neck, warm and protective. “I don’t want to see Baltimore defeated.”
“Neither do I.” Callie yawned. “As Josh said, wake me if something interesting happens.”
“I will. Sleep well, Catkin,” he whispered. He loved having her sleeping in his arms. Their intimacies of the previous night had made this possible. How long until she was so used to having him around that she’d be willing to marry him? Not long, he hoped. He wanted to go home, and he wanted Callie by his side.
Despite the continuing cannonade, he also dozed. Then an abrupt change woke him up. Not more cannon blasts, but silence. Eerie silence. The bombardment had stopped.
He came sharply alert, staring out at the dark, rain-filled skies over Fort McHenry. In the distance, a clock struck four times.
Callie stirred, then snapped awake. “The guns have stopped firing! The battle for the fort must be over, but who won?”
“Impossible to tell,” he said grimly. “But even if Fort McHenry has surrendered, the Royal Navy will still have to pass by the blockade of ships that were sunk in the channel. That won’t be easy.”
She stared into the darkness with frustration. “Ihatenot knowing!”
“So do I,” he agreed as he tightened his arms around her. “There are so many things to hate about war, but lack of information about what is happening is one of the worst. We’ll have to wait until dawn to see which flag is flying over the fort.”
She slid from his lap and stretched. “You make a good mattress, but my muscles are stiff.”
