Decision at Fletcher's Mill

by David Caringer

  Ezekiel neared the massive stone structure and noticed a small group of men on horseback at the front of the building. Three large empty wagons with surly and impatient-looking teamsters were lined up along the lane leading to the front door. The men on horseback wore the distinctive uniforms of British dragoon cavalry. One of them was holding the reins of a beautiful horse whose saddle was empty. Zeke slowed his pace but continued to approach the doorway. He lifted his hat and nodded a smile in greeting when the men noticed him. They said nothing but edged their mounts away to let him pass. Zeke noticed that the door was ajar. He pushed it open and stepped into the shadows of the large entry foyer which also served as the business office and one of many storage areas for the mill. Zeke hung his hat on the peg near the door and turned to face a large impeccably uniformed Royal Army captain.

  Ezekiel’s apprentice miller, young Tobias, was standing almost at attention in front of the captain while the officer leafed through the mill’s open business ledger. Peter Johansen was sitting on a stack of fine flour bags near the shuttered window on the other side of the room. Zeke smiled at the captain as he told Peter to get up and get to work cleaning the lower mill station. Peter brushed past him with a sullen look on his face but said nothing. Tobias looked greatly relieved at Zeke’s arrival and followed Peter out of the room.

  Ezekiel said, “May I be of service, sir?”

  The captain looked inquisitive and responded, “I need to speak with your master. Please tell me where I might find him.”

  Zeke said, “I’m a free man, sir. I’m also the chief millwright here. The owner of the mill is Reverend Ira Fletcher.”

  The captain shrugged and said, “Then where can I find Mr. Fletcher?”

  Zeke explained that Ira was away on his preaching circuit and again said, “Can I help you, sir?”

  The captain abruptly closed the ledger and looked sternly at Ezekiel as he said, “I heard rumors about this place, but I scarcely believed them.”

  Zeke replied, “Yes, sir. Can I help you, sir?”

  The captain seemed to swell slightly as he said, “My name is Captain Reginald Crispin. I’m the deputy quartermaster on the staff of His Majesty’s army serving under General Lord Cornwallis. My men and I are here to requisition provisions. We had been told of the wealth in this building. Now that I see it with my own eyes, I am astounded. I had no idea that three wagons would not suffice to carry these provisions back to the army. Where can I requisition more wagons?”

  Ezekiel stared openmouthed at the man for a moment before he managed to say, “Sir, do you intend to take everything from the mill?”

  The captain shouted, “Of course I do! Your precious Mr. Fletcher will be paid well for everything!” Captain Crispin stomped past Ezekiel and out the door as he shouted for the teamsters to bring the wagons forward.

  Zeke followed him out the door pleading, “Sir, most of the materials in the mill belong to the mill customers, to the area farmers and their families.”

  The captain spun on Zeke and stepped very close, almost spitting in his face as he shouted, “Then your precious Mr. Fletcher will have to show where his real loyalties lie by using his own legendary fortune to reimburse his customers until he is paid by the Crown!” The captain turned his back to Zeke and again shouted orders to his men and the teamsters.

  The noise of angry shouting had been growing from the direction of the village for several seconds and it continued to get louder. The horses began to shy and stir. The dragoon sergeant holding the captain’s horse moved closer and held the reins out to his officer. Zeke said, “But sir….” and he reached forward to grasp the captain’s arm. He remembered later that he never actually felt the blow as the sergeant struck him on the side of the head with the flat of his heavy saber. Everything went black, and he was spared witnessing what happened next.

  The source of the shouting voices became clear as a crowd of about thirty villagers, old, young, male, and female moved into sight around the bend in the lane. The people were led by Tobias and a huge older man, Tobias’ father, Robert Griffin. Mr. Griffin was the village blacksmith. He was one of the strongest men in the county, and he was carrying his best two-pound ball-peen hammer. Several of the villagers were armed with clubs, pitchforks, and even a few old fowling pieces.

  The villagers’ shouts turned to rage when they saw Ezekiel on the ground. They began to surge forward. The sergeant shouted an order bringing the dragoons into line and spreading them out in front of the mill entrance and the wagons. The crowd slowed to a stop when they saw the brandished sabers and the still holstered carbines. Captain Crispin was holding a fully cocked pistol in his free hand.

  The blacksmith shouted, “What is going on here? What have you done to old Mr. Zeke?”

  The crowd milled several yards down the road. They continued to shout in anger at the alarmed British soldiers. More villagers joined them as people rushed to see what was happening. Fear began to spark greater emotion on both sides in this momentary impasse. Someone in the crowd noticed the teamsters and their wagons and correctly deduced the reason for the army presence. A few young men began to move around the mounted soldiers toward the wagons in the distance. A sharp yell from Robert Griffin brought them back.

  The blacksmith realized that the situation was growing hopelessly out of control and could end badly for everyone involved. These soldiers were foraging for food and supplies. There was nothing he or any of his neighbors could do to stop them. Griffin turned to his neighbors and tried to reason with them for calm before turning back to the mounted officer and asking again what had happened. The terrified captain shouted at him to be silent and raised the pistol as if to enforce the point. The effect on the crowd was opposite what was intended. They became louder and started again to move slowly forward.

  CHAPTER 5

  The battle of Cowpens lasted less than one hour. It was ferocious and stunningly decisive. It was an astounding victory for the Continental Army. The British defeat at Cowpens was both a shock and a humiliation to His Majesty’s forces in the Carolinas. Banastre Tarleton barely escaped the field with two hundred of his men. He entered the battle with almost fourteen hundred. Those killed, wounded, or captured were from some of the best units in the Royal Army.

  Cowpens would be recognized as a tactical masterpiece on the part of Daniel Morgan. It was arguably one of the most successful double envelopments in modern military history. It was also seen as an example of prideful foolishness on the part of Lieutenant Colonel Banastre Tarleton. The continental losses included 12 killed and 60 wounded. The British lost 99 killed, over 200 wounded, and 829 captured. Thirty-nine of the British killed in action were valuable, tactically proficient junior officers. Tarleton somehow managed to save the two grasshopper canons, but the continentals captured a huge amount of powder, ammunition, weapons, and other crucial military supplies.

  Billy Morgan gave little thought to any of this. This was a horrendous ordeal for him. It involved stark terror, almost insane fury, and shocked disbelief at discovering that Silas Whitaker somehow survived when he thought him dead. Billy managed to gently roll Silas onto a makeshift stretcher with the help of Sergeant Duncan and Private Plunket. They moved him to a clearer spot and laid him back down long enough for the sergeant to go search the hillside looking for medical help. Plunket backed away slightly as Billy bent over Silas trying to clear the blood and dirt from his friend’s face.

  Silas bled profusely from his head wound, and the right side of his face was swollen terribly. Billy doused his oily rifle cleaning rag with drinking water from his own bottle and began to swab Silas’ face as carefully as possible. Silas’ left eye twitched and slowly came open. He brought Billy’s face into focus with difficulty, then began to cough. This caused immediate searing pain in his chest and lower abdomen. He managed to rasp, “What … what happened?” A coughing spell started again, and he quietly croaked, “I think my ribs are busted.”

  Billy said, “Just stay still, Silas. I�
��m gonna take care of you.”

  A shadow moved over Billy and Silas. They heard the deep voice of General Daniel Morgan just above a whisper as he said, “He looks like he’s hurt bad, son.” Billy looked up to see genuine concern in the older man’s face. The general said, “I’ll have my surgeon look at him, son.” To Private Plunket, he said, “Stay with this man til the surgeon gets over here.” The general reached out and gently grasped Billy’s upper arm, pulling him to his feet as he whispered, “We need to talk.”

  Billy stepped a few yards away, trailing the giant strides of the legendary general. He expected to be chewed out now that the battle was over. The embarrassment over his lie hardly seemed to matter anymore. To his surprise, General Morgan stepped away from him a few paces, then turned around to stare at him with a giant grin on his face. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence ensued before the general slapped himself on the thigh and let out a startling peal of laughter followed with the words, “Let me shake your hand, young man!”

  The general covered the few paces that separated them with his own right hand outstretched and his face split into a jovial grin. Billy didn’t know what else to do, so he timidly offered his hand. The general grabbed it and slapped Billy several times on the back as he continued to laugh. He shouted, “That was the most amazing thing I ever did see!” Billy felt himself almost lifted off the ground as the older man spun him around so that the gathering crowd could stare at the two of them. The general roared, “That was the most astoundin’ bit of soldierin’ I’ve seen in years! Wait, I know you young fella! Seems to me we’re related somehow….” He looked sidelong at Billy and winked. He continued, “Yeah, that’s right … ain’t you my cousin’s boy?” Before Billy had time to react, he was shocked to listen as General Daniel Morgan described him as a distant cousin of some kind. The general bewildered Billy even further by referring to him as “Lieutenant” Morgan.

  Billy stammered, “But … sir … I’m just a militia private….”

  General Morgan leaned close and whispered, “Shut your mouth, boy! Don’t ever argue with me again!” He stepped back and laughed, “Congratulations, Lieutenant. I’ve got lots of business to tend to right now, but I’ll want to talk quiet with you later today. Get your friend seen to with my surgeon like I said. Then find me again. I’ve got a job that needs done, and you’re the one to handle it.” He stepped over to where his horse was being held by an orderly and swung painfully up into the saddle. Without another word, the general pulled the horse’s head around and started back up the hill followed by his retinue of aids and messengers.

  Billy looked on in disbelief. The nearby group of men suddenly converged on him and began to loudly congratulate him and pat him on the shoulders and back. It slowly occurred to Billy that the shame he felt from his earlier lie wasn’t really gone. It was altered slightly with the realization that General Morgan had publicly claimed him as a relative. That brought feelings that were difficult to understand. His emotions were so jumbled that he felt overwhelmed, bewildered, elated, and euphoric all at the same time. Billy was exhausted and felt like laughing and crying at the same time. He knew one certain thing now. Billy would gladly march into the jaws of death for Daniel Morgan if asked. He had no idea what the new task might be, and he didn’t care. The fact that Billy would be trusted with any kind of mission was enough to guarantee his complete devotion to the cause, whatever that meant.

  A small elderly man in a once fine suit of clothes slowly worked his way through the crowd and approached the place where Silas was lying. He identified himself, in a thick Polish/German accent, as General Morgan’s personal surgeon. Dr. Mikhael Bolt leaned quickly over Silas and began a process of searching and probing which would have brought painful protest to even an uninjured man. Looking around quickly, he sent Private Plunket to collect a bundle of twenty straight sticks about four hand-breadths in length and the diameter of his little finger. His accent and the strangeness of the instructions made him repeat them twice before Plunket understood. This brought a slightly annoyed look to the doctor’s face which was instantly replaced by the stoic expression he seemed to wear most of the time. Dr. Bolt returned immediately to his patient, identified the worst of the injuries, and deftly treated them with an undeniable skill that left Billy feeling greatly relieved. It was now clear to him that Silas would get the best possible care.

  Doctor Bolt gave Silas a strong dose of some brown liquid from a stoppered vial he removed from his huge leather satchel. He continued to clean and bandage the wounds as Silas gradually became quieter, apparently under the influence of the strange liquid. Plunket hurried back with the bundle of sticks. The doctor nodded a curt thanks and began sorting the sticks into a row on the ground. He then stood up and enlisted the help of Billy and Plunket as he straightened the now bandaged and sleeping form of Silas Whitaker on his back. Gently opening Silas’ coat and shirt, he probed and examined his abdomen with mumbled comments and nods. Dr. Bolt carefully closed the shirt and coat. He again requested help from the two other men as he carefully eased a sheet that had been folded into a long narrow rectangle under the injured man’s abdomen and chest. Working slowly, he arranged the sticks vertically along Silas’ ribcage using his coat for padding as he wrapped the sheet snuggly around his patient’s body. He secured the end of the sheet to itself by sewing it swiftly in place with a dexterity that surprised the two observers.

  Doctor Bolt took another quick look at and around Silas and then stood to face Billy. He looked up into the young man’s face with care and concern that again surprised Billy. “This man … he is your comrade … your friend?” Billy was afraid of what might be said next, so he simply nodded. The doctor nodded also and said, “He will live I think!” Brushing his hands on the front of his coat, he continued, “There are at least three broken ribs. His left shoulder, it is dislocated. His skull, it could be cracked, but I am not certain.” He looked back down at Silas briefly and then back up at Billy. “I have immobilized his ribcage as best I can here. The bleeding has stopped, and I have sedated him. I need to reset his shoulder, but I can’t risk doing that here and now.” Billy nodded as if he understood all that he was told. The doctor continued, “He is severely concussed even if his skull is not cracked. I have taken a great risk giving him so much laudanum, but I feel we must keep him from going into shock. We must get him inside a building somewhere soon.” Billy nodded again, but felt completely helpless. He was staring down at Silas’ now motionless body.

  Billy watched and listened a while longer as Dr. Bolt continued to make arrangements for transporting Silas to a place more suitable for proper medical care. He bent over his unconscious friend and gently grasped his uninjured shoulder momentarily as if to reassure himself that Silas really had survived. Standing up, he turned again to the doctor and thanked him profusely for all that he had done and all that he would do to care for Silas. Dr. Bolt nodded quietly with no real emotion on his face. He then turned back to Private Plunket and began barking instructions.

  A few men who had witnessed these events moved quietly near Billy. One of the men, Private Howard from Billy’s company, cleared his throat and said, “Excuse us, sir, we was wonderin’ if we could help you with….” Billy looked sharply at Howard. The older man seemed to flinch away. Howard had been one of the loudest of his tormenters over the last few days. “Help me with what?” Howard removed his worn slouch hat and held it before himself in both hands. The barrel of his long musket was propped inside his right elbow with the butt of the weapon resting on his right foot. The man had his head lowered and his face was covered with a look of almost comic humility. Billy didn’t know the other two men, but he had seen them in the ranks of the other company. These two had the same low expression as their spokesman. Howard tried again, “Well you see, sir, we followed you into that last part of the fight, and we agree with the general, I mean … your … your ‘uncle’ sir. Fact is, we ain’t never seen nothing like that either….” Billy didn’t know what to
say, so he remained silent. Howard went on, “We heard the gen…. I mean your uncle … promote you to be an officer and all, and we was lookin’ at your clothes, and we was thinkin….”

  Billy looked down at himself and suddenly realized what Howard was trying to say. He looked back up and said, “What would you suggest?”

  The older man brightened as he lifted his head. “Well, you see, lieutenant….” He nodded toward the thin scarecrow of a man at his right. “Jimmy here, he was goin” through the baggage those English fellas dropped down by the tree line before they came chargin’ up the hill. One of them must have been a Hessian officer or somethin,’ cause his sack looked different than the others, and it had a pretty clean dark blue coat tied to the outside of it. Inside, he also found a pair of good quality trousers, stockins, and two good white wool shirts. We found a useable officer sword too with a fine leather belt and scabbard and all the trim…. This stuff looks to us like it’d fit you just fine. Jimmy here wanted to keep it all, but he showed it to me and we talked about it, and then we heard the gen … I mean your uncle shoutin’ … and we thought of a better use for it like….”

  Billy couldn’t help smiling now as he realized the tremendous respect and generosity he was being shown by these hardened men. Howard went on, “Thomas here also ‘found’ two pairs of good calf-skin boots on a couple of those dead lobster officers. We don’t know if either of them would fit you, but you could try both on.” Billy again looked down at his torn and filthy clothing. He was so covered with mud and blood that it was difficult to see the threadbare knees of his trousers. His shoes were ready to disintegrate. His coat was just as filthy, and the left shoulder was torn beyond repair. The only thing he was wearing that was still in fair condition was the belt and shoulder sash holding the weight of his canteen, cartridge pouch, and powder horn. He still had one pretty good shirt and the remains of a knit sweater in his rucksack back by the creek, but he couldn’t deny that these offered treasures would be very valuable to him indeed.