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returning
privateer. A few minutes later there were three more shots, which
was curious, especially since no vessels could be seen approaching.
Her stomach tightened in alarm. She had noticed men riding south
along the Bank, and now another group went galloping past the
shop.
    Devon raced downstairs, nearly colliding with
her mother.
    "You can't be finished yet!" Deborah
accused.
    "Something is wrong. I can feel it! I knew it
when I woke up this morning!" With that, she ran outside, just as
Nick came thundering down Bank Street on his best horse. She could
read his face even before he dismounted.
    "It's the British, isn't it?"
    "Yes, child, it is. There's a whole fleet—two
dozen vessels or more—at the mouth of the harbor."
    "But the signal—"
    "They must have added the third shot to fool
us, though God only knows how they learned our signals. It may only
be a plundering party, after stock, but I doubt it."
    "Nick, where are you going?"
    "To Fort Trumbull, of course! To meet those
damned lobsterbacks head-on!"
    He gave her a hug, then was off. Devon lifted
her skirts and raced to the river to get a better view. A cold
chill ran down her spine at the sight of the imposing British ships
bearing down on New London, and she immediately returned to the
shop to warn her mother.
    "I am not going anywhere," Deborah stated
flatly.
    * * *
    Minutes stretched into hours as New London
frantically tried to evacuate. All around the Linen and Pewter Shop
townspeople harnessed horses and hurriedly loaded valuables into
wagons. Devon, unable to reason with her mother, retreated to the
top floor to watch the chaos on the Beach as the privateers hoisted
sail in a wild effort to escape before the British fleet could trap
them. Devon was not surprised to see the Black Eagle sailing
upriver first.
    Several neighbors took a moment to run to the
Linen and Pewter Shop to make certain that the Widow Lindsay
intended to leave. Devon watched hopefully as first Dr. Wolcott,
then Jonathan Starr, and finally Titus Hurlbutt entered the door,
but she expected no miracle. Deborah had been pulled along during
the false-alarm evacuations, but now, as the enemy landed only a
few miles away, she had no intention of turning her back on her
shop. She seemed to feel that her cold stare would chase any
intruders away.
    News spread rapidly. By nine o'clock Devon
had heard that half the British had landed at White Beach, just
below the lighthouse, while the rest had reached Groton Point,
south of Fort Griswold across the river. She could see the shots
coming from the Groton fort, aimed at the enemy vessels. Was there
a chance that they might be frightened off?
    Then she spotted the boatloads of men from
Fort Trumbull crossing the Thames to join forces with the soldiers
at Fort Griswold. So quickly! They must have been hopelessly
outnumbered, Devon thought, feeling ill. She ran downstairs to
relay these facts to her mother but was immediately distracted by a
familiar figure on horseback. It was Jonathan Brooks, a boy from
nearby Bradley Street whom she knew and liked well.
    Dashing outside, Devon shouted, “Wait!”
    "I can't stop! Father has ordered me to hurry
home and put the horse in the barn."
    "Jonathan, you must tell me what you know.
Mother won't leave! Did you see them? How many are there?"
    "Yes, I saw them. Jenny here got caught in a
mire while I was trying for the heights. A shot passed right over
my head as I got down to free her! There are hundreds of
redcoats, Devon, and they've split up. Half of those landing at
White Beach made for the fort, but the rest are on their way to
town. Father and about a hundred others have hidden along Town Hill
Road and have managed to hit a few of them, but it looks bad. I've
really got to be off now. I'm to wait for word from Father at home.
You should get away! The redcoats will be upon New London
soon!"
    "Thank you, Jonathan. Good luck!"
    Jenny galloped off in a cloud of dust,
leaving Devon standing on a nearly