Timpoochee awoke and discovered he’d been dreaming.
But the dream haunted him. The torrent, the deluge. It seemed too much, too overwhelming, perhaps even fruitless to try to overcome it all.
A flood is coming, Timpoochee reasoned. What to do about it was the question.
“Good morning, my dear friend,” Panton exclaimed as he burst through the door into Timpoochee’s room. “Are we feeling better this morning?”
He did not even wait for an answer.
“I’ve just come from Chester’s quarters in Fort George and I have much to tell you about the British surrender.”
Seems oddly happy for a man on a defeated army, Timpoochee thought. Oddly happy for a man whose town has just been captured by his enemy.
Panton explained the terms of the capitulation agreed to by both the British and the Spanish commanders. The British soldiers, he said, those who had not been taken prisoner, would be allowed to walk out of the fort in a formal ceremony tomorrow and allowed to set sail for safe refuge in the American colonies.
“And,” he said, pointing at Timpoochee. “This is the part which affects you and your men, Sam Story, all the peaceful residents and visitors of Pensacola will be allowed to leave in peace if they wish, as they wish. That means you will be allowed to return home a soon as you have recuperated.”