by night, cut through the French, and by forced
marches make his way to New York.

On the night of the 16th, a few of the redcoats actually succeeded in
reaching the opposite shore, when a storm of wind and rain suddenly
arose and continued till morning. This last ray of hope was gone.

Cornwallis had his headquarters in a large brick mansion owned by a
Tory. It was a fine target for the artillery, and was soon riddled.
His lordship stayed in the house until a cannon ball killed his
steward, as he was carrying a tureen of soup to his master's table.

The British general now moved his headquarters into Governor Nelson's
fine stone mansion. Its owner was {133} in command of the Virginia
troops in the besieging army. He was the "war governor" who had left
his crops to their fate, and his plows in the furrows, while his
horses and his oxen were harnessed to the cannon that were being
hurried to the siege. When Nelson learned, through a deserter, where
Cornwallis and his staff were, regardless of his personal loss, he
ordered the bombarding of the house.

In Trumbull's famous painting, "The Surrender of Cornwallis,"
Governor Nelson's mansion is plainly seen.

By this time, the only safe place in Yorktown was a cave, which had
been dug under the bank of the river. To this spot, as the story
goes, Cornwallis moved his headquarters. Here he received a British
colonel who had made his way in the night through the French fleet,
to bring orders from Sir Henry Clinton. Cornwallis was to hold out to
the last. Seven thousand troops had sailed to his relief.

His lordship served a lunch for his guest, and while they were
drinking their wine, the colonel declared his intention of going up
on the ramparts for a moment, to take a look at the Yankees. As he
left, he gayly said that on his return he would give Washington's
health in a bumper. It was useless to urge him to remain under
shelter. He had scarcely climbed to the top of the redoubt when his
head was shot off by a cannon ball.

On October 17, the thirteenth day of the siege and the fourth
anniversary of Burgoyne's surrender, a red-coated {134} drummer boy
stands on the rampart and beats a parley. A white flag is raised on
the British works. The roar of the cannon ceases. Cornwallis sends an
officer to ask that fighting be stopped for twenty-four hours.

Twenty-four hours! No! "No more fighting for two hours," says
Washington.

Held in an iron grasp both by land and by