It would be all up with Washington's plans if the British fleet should now defeat the French. The French fleet, however, was much the stronger, and Graves was no Nelson. There was a sharp fight for two hours. On the two fleets, the killed and the wounded amounted to seven hundred. The British admiral was then forced to withdraw; and after a few days he sailed back to New York. De Grasse was now in complete control of the Chesapeake. Cornwallis did not as yet know that Washington was marching at full speed straight for Yorktown. Still, his {131} lordship began to realize that he was fast getting himself into a tight place. Why not cross the James River and retreat to a safe place in North Carolina? It was too late. Three thousand French troops had already landed on the neck of the peninsula, and were united with the patriot forces. The "boy" had now more than eight thousand men, with which he could easily cut off every chance for his lordship's retreat. In the American camp, the combined armies were working with a hearty good will to hasten the siege. There could be no delay. The British fleet was sure to return, and another fleet was hourly expected from England. Again, Sir Henry might at any moment come by sea to the rescue. Day and night the men toiled. Nobody was permitted to speak aloud, for they were close to the British pickets. Intrenchments were made, and cannon were rapidly dragged up and placed in position. By October 10, all was ready. [Illustration: General Washington in the Trenches before Yorktown] {132} The siege begins in earnest. Shot and shell are hurled into the British lines. All day and all night long, are heard the roaring of cannon and the bursting of shells. Bang! bang! The French fire red-hot shot across the water and set fire to the British transports. New lines of redoubts are thrown up during the night, and guns are mounted, which pound away at the doomed army. Two of the British redoubts are troublesome. These are gallantly captured. On the next night, Cornwallis makes a vigorous effort to break through the American lines, but is driven back into the town. With seventy cannon pounding away, the British earthworks are fast crumbling. The British commander grows desperate. He thinks that, by leaving his baggage and his sick behind, he can cross the river to Gloucester in boats, 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.