THE BRITISH FLEET ARRIVES OFF SANDY HOOK.
On the morning of the 10th of May, the telegraph operator stationed
at Fire Island, telegraphed to New York that four large war vessels
were in sight, proceeding slowly westward towards Sandy Hook.
Later in the day, numbers of other vessels were reported as also
passing in the same direction; and it became evident that the long
expected fleet had at length reached our shores. The excitement
which this news caused in the cities of New York and Brooklyn was
intense and indescribable.
Although it had been the uppermost thought in people's minds for
months past, and in spite of the fact that there had been scarcely
any other subject of conversation among the citizens, and
notwithstanding the almost universal feeling of confidence which had
possessed them in the efficiency of their defensive preparations, the
news of the actual arrival of a hostile fleet--representing the most
formidable naval power in the world, and presumably containing all
the best and most approved offensive weapons known to modern
science--seemed to exert an almost paralyzing effect upon the
inhabitants of the two cities. The noisy and boisterous ebullitions,
which usually accompany occasions of great public excitement, were
entirely wanting. Business of all kinds was suspended, and in all of
the down-town centers, groups of anxious and pale-faced men were to
be encountered at every corner and street crossing, engaged in
earnest, but quiet conversation. The lively spirit of braggadocio
and bravado, which had heretofore been such a prominent feature of
every gathering, large or small, when the pending "invasion" happened
to be the subject of conversation, was noticeable by its total
absence. Conversation was carried on almost entirely in hurried and
anxious whispers; and anybody who raised his voice above a colloquial
tone--whether it was an excited newsboy, shouting out the latest
extra; or a half intoxicated tramp, yelling patriotic defiance to the
hated British--was looked upon, much as the deliberate violator of
some sacred spot would be regarded, by an enthusiastic believer in
its sanctified character.
A complete hush seemed to have fallen upon the two cities; and a
subdued air, as if some impending calamity had proclaimed its near
approach, seized upon the people. For the first time, a faint idea
of the real gravity of the situation seemed to dawn upon the public
mind. Here was war, bitter, relentless, destructive, cruel war, at
their very doors. In a day or two at the latest, possibly within a
few hours, the thunder of distant cannon would be faintly heard, and
the bursting and crashing of deadly shells would involve the city in
ruin and desolation. What was to be done? How could this frightful
downpour of dynamite shells be averted? What if those formidable
marine monsters were able to defy the attacks of our insignificant
looking little torpedo boats and rams. Supposing some of them should
be destroyed; what if two, or three, or even one, should remain
uninjured, and should proceed to pour its hail of deadly projectiles
upon these defenseless and exposed cities? Who could tell where the
shells might strike, or who would be safe from their deadly work?
Many of the more timid of the inhabitants took time by the forelock
and sought safety in flight. The newspapers, however, did much to
avert what threatened to become a panic, by treating the whole
subject in a light and cheerful vein, and their optimistic
predictions were regarded as gospel truths by the great majority of
the citizens.